#i will simply not exist for the rest of the day

[meimalr]

BABY IT'S COLD INSIDE - SOPHIA LAFORTEZA

wordcount: 3k

tags: fluff, college!au, enemies (one sided) to lovers, kissing at the end

the heating is broken in your dorm room, and while you really hate your roommate, sophia, there was only one solution. sleeping together

The two of you had never been close. 

It was the night of the first day of classes, when the initial excitement of school was slowing down. Students were tired. Full blown conversations were turning into whispers and the occasional giggle. The hallways were clearing out, and you were snuggled in your bed, sheets pulled all the way up to your chin. While the day was fun and you would never deny that—constantly having to introduce yourself the same way over 50 times was definitely not the most interesting part of your day. You just wanted to close your eyes and sleep.

All was well until you heard the soft padding of footsteps in the dorm, venturing concerningly close to your dorm room’s front door. There was a click, and then light from the hallway started spilling into your dorm. Quiet voices could be heard as they giggled and whispered, and it only got worse as they seemed to be coming into the room and not leaving.

You tossed and turned, letting out an audible groan in hopes of having them feel guilty and leaving, but they only stopped for a moment making sure you were still sleeping before continuing.

“Sophia! I thought your roommate would be awake,” a voice whispered, her tone sharp but you could hear a hint of laughter behind it.

“I didn’t think she was a grandma, Lara. It’s literally only 9," Sophia whispered back, and the group of girls giggled as they moved around the room to sit on the other bed.

You weren’t old. You were simply tired after starting your day at the ass crack of dawn and only ending it a few hours ago. You had told Sophia you were going to knock out early. She nodded in response and made jokes about how tiring the first day was. You thought she had understood that that meant you wanted quiet. Apparently she didn’t.

That night—filled with endless laughter and repeated shushing—marked the day that you knew Sophia Laforteza would remain an enemy for the rest of the semester. 

“Did you hear the news?” Manon questioned as the two of you sat together on a bench on the school’s campus. You had met Manon months prior in one of your classes, and while you originally shied away from her friendly advances, she wouldn’t stop pestering you and eventually it blossomed into a close friendship.

“What news?” you replied, barely listening, a hand in your hair as you flipped through notes trying to absorb last minute information before a big test. 

“Some of the heating in the dorms isn't gonna be working for the next week. Admin suggested either finding another dorm with a friend or just living through it.” Manon glanced toward you at her words, but you didn’t reply. You didn’t even hear her.

She gave up on trying to talk to you and turned her attention to her phone, sighing and folding her body into her jacket to brace the cold wind that was hitting the both of you. 

It only hit you hours after she told you.

The both of you were eating out to celebrate the end of the first semester. The weather outside was freezing, and you were never one to appreciate the cold. 

“Wait,” you said, interrupting Manon as she talked about a class that was annoying her. She rolled her eyes and lowered her hands, used to your random outbursts. “Did you say the heating is broken in the dorms?”

“I said that like 6 hours ago. It’s broken on most of the third floor rooms.”

You blinked slowly and sat still for a moment.

“I live on the third floor.”

Your friend simply nodded, a ghost of a smile visible on her lips as your brain attempted to digest the information.

“With Sophia. The bane of my existence. The reason why I’m always over at your room.” You continued, and she kept nodding, the smile only growing wider. 

The solution was simple. You’d just room with Manon for the week again. You’ve shared a room with Manon for so long throughout the semester that you’d basically moved in. She lived a floor above, and her roommate Megan wouldn’t mind either. As you started to open your mouth she quickly ruined your night with her next words.

“You can’t room with me.” The words were sharp even if she meant to deliver them softly.

Silence. The utensils clanging against plates in the corners of the restaurant were the only things you could hear. 

You took a steady inhale. “Why?”

“Megan already invited some friends from the third floor. She got first dibs because I always have you over. Her words, not mine.” 

You decided then and there that you’d kill Manon and then you’d kill Megan soon after. 

“Please Manon.” You begged, hands clasped together and you even started reaching over the table to clasp her hands with yours. She let out a loud wheeze and started laughing uncontrollably at your despair.

“I’m not going to be on campus for the week, Y/n.” She couldn’t stop laughing at the pure despair on your face. “There’s no chance that Megan’s gonna let you in the room. Especially if I’m not there.” 

She didn’t understand how much you hated Sophia. This was the worst thing that could’ve happened.

You entered your dorm a little bit after you begged Manon for help. It was pointless and she only sat there in pity as you went on and on about your distaste for your roommate.

Sophia was on her bed, her blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Her glasses were perched on her nose as she balanced her laptop on her knees. You glanced over at her once before quickly looking away. Something in your heart reacted, but you pushed the emotion deep down and made your way to your own bed.

She silently glanced up at you before looking down at her computer again. You only knew a bit of Sophia’s schedule from other friends, but you knew that she still had one more class to finish before she would be on break as well. 

You slowly put your stuff down and summoned the courage to break the silence in the room.

“I’m going to head into the shower,” you said, rummaging through your belongings.

She hummed a response, not even giving you the time of day. 

As you looked through your stuff you realised that you made a mistake. Many of your things were still in Manon's room, including your towel. You hissed in annoyance and you could feel Sophia’s gaze on your back.

“Are you okay-”

“Do you have a spare towel-”

You both spoke at the same time, and you quickly apologised before stopping yourself because why were you apologising to Sophia Laforteza. 

“A spare towel?” She asked as she got up from under her blanket, placing her laptop beside her. Her shirt had ridden up slightly and you quickly averted your gaze, your face getting warmer at the sight.

She scanned her belongings before finding an extra towel and throwing it across the room at you. You fumbled with it before catching it.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, annoyed at the fact that you needed help from Sophia in the first place.

“You're welcome.” she responded as she moved back toward her bed, shivering slightly from the lack of heating. 

You had made another mistake. Apparently tonight was full of them. It was so cold inside your room that showering only made it worse no matter how warm you made the water. You were practically vibrating with cold once you finished your shower. Your solution was to throw on multiple sweaters, but that only made you uncomfortable as you laid on your bed, but it was better than freezing.

As you glanced to the other side of the room, you noticed that Sophia was most likely just as cold, if not worse off. She had given up on studying and had pulled her blanket up and over her head. The light of her phone was visible under the sheets and you could faintly hear her breathing which was the only indicator that she was still alive.

After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you glanced at the clock to see that it read 11 at night. An annoyed breath escaped you, and you did what you never thought you would have done in a million years.

“So.” You awkwardly started, and the noise coming from Sophia’s phone quickly turned off, her head peeking from underneath the covers. “You still have classes, right?” 

“Yeah,” She said, a curious edge to her voice.

You nodded slowly, “That sucks. I just finished today.”

“Do you not have anything to wear that will make you warmer?”

Sophia rolled her eyes as if annoyed with you continuing the conversation.

“I had to do laundry, and somehow I ended up with none of my sweaters for tonight.”

“I see.”

She made no effort to continue the conversation, and you laid on your bed tensely as she stared at you in confusion. You looked over at her and saw that her cheeks had taken on a pinkish colour. The cold was obviously affecting her, and you didn’t know how she’d survive the whole night.

Unfortunately, you decided to speak up on the matter.

“Would you like to-” you paused, trying to think of a way to articulate yourself. “Would you maybe like to borrow one of my sweaters? Just because it’s really cold and you look like you’re freezing. I wouldn’t mind– well that is if you’re comfortable with that.” 

You cringed at your rambling and sank further down into your bed. 

“Sorry,” You mumbled in embarrassment.

“Could I?” Her voice overpowered yours.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes again, “Could I borrow one of your sweaters?” 

You didn’t expect her to actually take up on your offer. 

You nodded rapidly and shot up from your bed, taking one of the many sweaters you had on off.

“Oh. I thought you’d give me a different one.” she said, an eyebrow raised at you struggling to move your limbs.

“I’m kind of wearing all of them right now. The only other one I have has my name plastered all over it, I didn’t think you’d want it-”

“I’ll take that one,” she interrupted you again, and you only looked at her puzzled. You shrugged your shoulders and went to grab the offending sweater.

She stood up from her bed and thanked you, her hands touching yours as she grabbed the sweater from you. You almost flinched at how cold they were, and had the urge to put your hands around hers to warm them up.

No–

What were you saying? This was Sophia. The same Sophia that completely ruined your sleep schedule and had no respect for you several months ago. The same Sophia you never even gave a chance.

You slipped back under your covers and fell asleep quite quickly, not noticing the way Sophia peered over at your sleeping form with a certain look in her eyes.

You woke up in the morning to your sweater folded neatly and a note on top of it written in Sophia’s strangely beautiful handwriting.

Thanks for the sweater, Y/n.

-Sophia

A warm feeling spread throughout your chest.

“You’re joking,” Manon screeched as you flinched and held your phone away from your ears. “You talked to Sophia?”

“It was like a two minute conversation.” You rolled your eyes, forgetting that your friend couldn’t see you.

“You borrowed her towel, Y/n,” she said, and you sighed in response.

“That’s nothing serious. It was an extra one she doesn’t use.”

“Did anything else happen?”

“I gave her my sweater, she looked really cold-”

“You gave her your sweater!?” Manon screamed again, and it was loud enough that the people you were walking past could hear her through your phone. 

“Shut up!” You whisper shouted into your phone, hoping she would quiet down.

“Why didn’t you start with that? That’s like- next level relationship stuff,” Manon spoke, slightly calmer but still loud.

“We’re barely even acquaintances. I was just being nice.” You scoffed.

“Yeah, and next thing you know you’re introducing her to me as your girlfriend.” 

For some reason, the thought of Sophia being your girlfriend didn’t immediately overwhelm you in a feeling of disgust. Unfortunately, your quietness didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend.

“Y/n, are you seriously thinking about that?”

“No!” You shouted affronted. 

“Don’t lie to me Y/n. I know you too well. You like her.” 

“I literally don’t. I’ve barely spoken to her. I hate her and you know this.”

Manon only ignored you and continued laughing throughout the call. 

Somehow, the next night was colder than the last. It was seeping through your bones, and no matter how much you layered it was still freezing. Sophia had seemingly gotten her laundry, and was dressed much more appropriately than yesterday. You almost felt sad that she wouldn’t need your sweater again. Almost.

“Y/n.” She spoke out of the blue, and you shot up to attention.

“Yes?”

“It’s really cold,” she stated, and you almost laughed at how serious she sounded for such a simple observation.

“I noticed.”

“Come here.”

You chuckled.

Sophia didn’t say anything else.

You laughed again, but much more worried. She wasn’t joking. She rolled over in her bed to make space for you and turned her attention back to her phone. 

She was leaving it up to you.

She was evil. She had to have been put on this world to torment you.

She was beautiful. Even when her attention wasn’t on you, you could recognize her beauty. Her cheeks, slightly pink. The rise and fall of her chest. Her silky hair splayed out on her pillow.

She was absolutely beautiful, and you couldn’t help but get out of your bed and step toward her.

“Bring you blanket, stupid.”

You flushed in embarrassment before turning around and snatching your blanket off of its original home.

You were in front of her bed now, and she made no sound of disapproval as you slipped a leg under her own blanket and slowly eased down into it.

You were stiff, and you couldn’t help but lie on your back and stare straight up at the ceiling. 

After a few moments, she placed her phone somewhere and shifted slightly closer to you.

“Is this okay?” Sophia whispered somewhere in the air, her voice’s tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, knowing your words would betray you.

The two of you remained silent for a while, but you knew she wasn’t sleeping, and you weren’t fooling anyone either. 

“Why are you never in our dorm?” She questioned.

“Do you remember the first day of school?” You asked, still lying stiffly against her on the small bed.

“No.” She laughed, and her laugh sounded like music to your ears. “That was such a long time ago.” 

“I was trying to sleep, and you brought friends over. I couldn’t sleep for practically the whole night.”

Her laughing stopped for a moment, and then it started again, seemingly louder than before.

“You really hate me over that?” She sounded bewildered, and you flushed in embarrassment realizing how petty it was to hold such a grudge.

"It was more so because you said you had understood why I was so tired," You said, frustrated. You paused for a moment before adding, “I don’t hate you anymore,” You mumbled, and quickly regretted the words once they came out of your mouth.

Sophia stopped laughing at your expense and shifted closer to you again. Your body was impossibly still. She was close enough for you to feel her cold breath on your neck.

“Is that so?” She asked.

You turned to face her, taking in her full beauty. “I don’t think I ever hated you. I think I was just so frustrated and too petty to talk about.”

She started giggling again, and the way she threw her head back as her face scrunched up enamored you. You stared at her, gaze occasionally glancing down to her lips. 

Even though she was laughing at you and your unwillingness to communicate, you couldn’t help but start to laugh with her, heat rising to your cheeks. Such a small thing caused a giant rift between you two.

Deep down in your heart, you knew that Sophia was nice, one of the kindest people on campus. There were always anecdotes from other students of her helping around and trying her best. The truth was that you just never wanted to believe it after your first interaction with the girl.

Sophia eventually stopped laughing and laid her eyes on you, and you felt your mind go blank.

Before you could realize what you were doing, you reached your hand from underneath the blanket and touched Sophia’s cheek. Gently as first, and the cold of the room seemed to transform to heat that accumulated on her face as you flinched away. She reacted just as quick and held your hand there, looking at you intensely.

You hesitated, searching through Sophia’s eyes for any sort of message. Any sort of green light.

“Are you-”

Sophia was the one to close the distance.

Her lips pressed against yours in a featherlike touch, and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. Her hands were cold as she pressed them against your cheeks, and your own hands dropped to the front of her shirt, gripping it tight as if it could ground you further into the moment.

It was soft at first, and she backed away from it just as fast as it came.

And then she leaned in again and pressed her lips to yours—harder this time—filled with emotion that you never thought your roommate could harbor. 

You didn’t know what you were doing, but nothing mattered at the moment. The chill of the room was absent as you pressed closer to Sophia, tangling your legs with hers underneath the sheets. Her lips were soft and warm, a welcoming feeling compared to the sharpness of the air between you. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but let yourself become poisoned by her.

The kiss ended only because of the lack of oxygen travelling between you, and she pressed her forehead against yours. Both of your bodies were warm, hot even.

“I-”

“We could’ve done that months ago if you had just talked to me,” Sophia said, a pink to her cheeks that wasn’t just due to the cold anymore.

Then she climbed on top of you, straddling you, her mouth connecting with yours once again.

Manon was gonna pass out once she heard about this.

[onlygarden]

TEASER ☘︎ [would it scare you?] - yang jungwon

genre: smut (with plot i promise)

description: for six years, jungwon has been your best friend. he hides his aching obsession from you, however, too afraid you'd just cut all ties with him if you ever found out just how deep that obsession ran. but eventually jungwon has had enough - enough of hearing about your dates, enough of the relentless teasing from his friends, and enough of pretending he could ever be content with calling you his best friend for the rest of his life. contains obsessed best friend yang jungwon x fem reader, unprotected sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), marking, blood, bruising, some violence, overstimulation, protectiveness, possessiveness, pervertedness, panty stealing, masturbation, degradation (not from jungwon) + possibly more. subject to change. feat. heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon

projected length: 10k-15k words. teaser length: 1.4k words

a/n: i'm so so so super excited about this, as it will be the longest fic i've ever written and also just the plot is something i've brainstormed contemplated and obsessed over for AGES i tell you. i haven't ever been this nervous about a fic either but it WILL be posted very soon because i'm working on it gradually everyday!!! please enjoy the teaser :D also!! comment or visit my inbox to be added to the taglist!

m.list

“peas, yuck.” 

the sound of your voice captures his attention, and he would say it made him divert his gaze to you – but who is he kidding, he was already looking at you. was there somewhere else he could be looking, anyway? however, this information was new to him. you don’t like peas? jot that down, he thinks.

he’s at your place, ever the usual, sitting at your counter and observing the sight of you in your kitchen, scrolling through the board of recipes you’ve gathered on pinterest. that’s all he ever wants to willingly partake in; watching you and whichever activity you’ve decided has seized your interest that day. 

oh, if watching you wasn’t rewarding. delicious. you’re bent over the counter, phone in hand, but he’s far from concerned with your phone; not when you’re putting all his favorite goodies on display. if they could understand him, he would easily say ‘thank you’ to the soft shorts you donned, simply for disclosing the smooth flesh of your thighs and framing the plush swell of your ass so perfectly. your ass, fuck, if that’s not something he really loved about you. over the years, he’s created a detailed map, captured detailed memories of every inch of skin your clothing has allowed him to see even a brief peak of. all the beautiful traits surrounding you, the kindness and grace of your soul, and nothing short of a smokeshow of a body to pair with it. holy fuck, you’re an angel if they’ve ever existed. 

he clears his throat, the dryness of it evident in the rasp it creates. his thoughts were beginning to carry him away, much like they always do when he’s around you. it irritates him to no end, merely for the possibility of missing out on any form of any sound your breath might escape you in.

“what are you looking at, babydoll?” he asks, his voice soft, still with a hint of the rasp he earned from his shameless distraction. the pet name always slips out when he talks to you. the first time it happened, you were a bit taken aback, but it’s not like you ever said anything in protest. you’ve grown pleasantly accustomed to it now, though, and you’re not sure of the last time he’s ever called you by your real name. that delights him to no end, since it makes him feel more  like he owns you. which he does, you just don’t know it yet. 

“just some pasta recipes. but after seeing all these peas, i think i’d rather bake something instead,” you tell him, straightening your position from the counter – a tragic loss for the perverted little goblin inside of jungwon – and moving to gather all the tools necessary for your mentioned activity.

his eyes follow you, almost as though they were tracking devices programmed with auto-targeting precision to lock aim upon you. shameless, greedy in his gaze, more-than-admiring the ratio from your shoulders, to your waist, then your hips. to him, the importance and significance just bloomed from every perceivably minor feature that aided in creating you. the subtly visible blemishes on your shoulders, the way each tendril of your hair spilled over your neck, the way your flesh rippled and jiggled from your thighs up to your ass as you walked. as might be expected, no different from all the other times he,s ever spent in your presence, the blood began rushing to visit him in his cock. he’s having such a hard time, in such a vast array of ways. fortunately for jungwon, you always seemed to be distracted in some way– something he learned to love about you. because, well, it���s you, and because he’s yet to be caught solid and poking through his pants in front of you. 

“you really like baking, huh?” he inquires, the soft tone of his voice bleeding into the soft smile settling on his face. his voice was always ironically casual in a way that never betrayed his thoughts which were anything but. after all, six years is plenty of time to reign control over those things.

you flash him a soft, natural smile which he doesn’t miss. however, he also doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce slightly after your heels touch the ground, having elevated yourself on your toes to reach for a bowl. under absolutely no circumstances would jungwon miss that. as if it aided the situation for him at all, more blood rushes to visit his awakening cock.

“yea, i do. i love the decorating part too.” 

“i know you do.” of course he fucking knows. 

with the same autonomous instincts as always, his eyes attach themselves to the way a radiant smile decorates your face as you read the notification lighting up your phone screen. what’s this, he thinks. what was making you so damn happy, and why wasn’t that smile directed towards him? something as beautiful as a smile you create should only ever be directed towards him. 

“oh, yea!” you start, striding to stand directly across from the counter where he sat, phone still in your clutch. it’s apparent to him from the blazing excitement in your tone, for something he wasn’t responsible for, he wasn’t going to like this one bit. 

“i didn’t tell you about the date i’m going on tomorrow.”

for a moment, the world seems to halt in it’s rotation – jungwon’s world, at least, which so shamelessly, obviously revolved around you. any syllable following the word ‘date’ seemed to drift into a languid murmur as that single, treacherous word blared echoes throughout his vacant mind. the possessiveness spreads over his rational thoughts like an infection. the air surrounding him sinks into his chest like cinderblocks. the pressure constricts his throat, as if the words you spoke placed a hand there. no, not this, he thinks. anything but this.

managing enough self-control to present himself normally – normal for him, at least – he schools his expression. his front teeth sink into his tongue, his cheekbones even more prominent for a moment before he mutters, “what date?” 

you knew jungwon felt an intense protectiveness towards you, it was nothing new. one that translated into the way he demanded every trivial detail of any endeavor you participated in which didn’t involve his company, not just dates. going to the doctor? he wants to research him. seeing your family? he wants you to text him. planning a girls day? he wants to know how long you’ve known them.

a date, however, was an entirely different arena. 

your expression softens into fond resignation, your mind preparing to quell the queries you know are pending behind the protective gleam in jungwon’s eyes.

“he’s a guy i met recently. he’s a friend of a friend, he asked me for my phone number when she introduced us.” 

that wasn’t enough to subdue your best friend. 

“describe him.” 

oh, here he goes. the manner in which his words travel to you, the command they carry with them, makes you falter subtly – a certain sensation fills your chest, a sudden sense of apprehension, hardly apparent, but apparent nonetheless, melds with the fondness expanding within you. what was jungwon planning on doing with that kind of information? 

you comply, however, listing off the attributes of the man – the man whom you only planned to get a harmless cup of coffee with – like you were filing a police report. 

“does that make you feel better?” you ask your best friend, a sense of amusement with his antics betraying itself in the laugh laced with your question, and the tone in your voice that almost tells him ‘you’re being ridiculous.’ 

jungwon knew he was being ridiculous, but it’s not like that would ever stop him. he’s never been reluctant to question you in his superabundant way, nor will he ever. even if you think his reactions are undue, he just wants to be absolutely certain you’re safe, protected with every waking moment. the only issue is, he’s only ever convinced of your safety when you’re with him. 

a laugh escapes him in a breath through his nose. no, actually. his tension isn’t eased at all. he can’t tell you that, though. he can’t tell you that he wants to camouflage himself in a bush near the window of the coffee shop you’ll be taken to. that’ll just make you run away, he thinks. 

“a little better. just– share your location with me. even if you think you don’t need to,” he reminds, gluing his gaze to yours to be sure his conviction sticks with you.

“okay, okay. i will, jungwon. you don’t need to go all ‘hitman’ on me. now come help me choose what i’m going to wear.” 

[tiny-twinstars]

Fire Pit : Rebirth

A/N: The epilogue is here! Just a mini backstory and recap of KPDH. I plan to have all chapters between 1k to 3k words, this word count is 803. I really hope you all enjoy it! This is Polytrix x fem demon!reader. Reader is later implied as afab and some flavor of sapphic. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist, and if you like the title as I'm thinking of changing it. As well as how you feel about reader being referred to with a nickname for later chapters. Enjoy <3

Divider by: Huraxy

CW: Description of pain

You weren't meant to exist.

You should have never been possible.

Yet you did.

Yet you 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦.

Your birth was an accident, when the Honmoon first laid its ground and Gwi-Ma nearly went out. The Honmoon had weakened him severely, yet a small flame hadn't reattached to the rest when he healed. This little flame of reds and oranges and pinks burned bright in its own little pit. Gwi-Ma waited days for this flame to burn brighter, to reattach, but it stayed cradled in its little pit.

Gwi-Ma had learned of your conscious state when a demon had managed to get two souls to feed him, and in curiosity, he gave the little fire pit a soul. Your flames bursted up, just a little, with a soft croak of hunger. The demon king saw this new revelation, if only you would grow stronger. Souls were hard to get for nearly four hundred years, the occasional soul that made a deal with Gwi-Ma usually fed him, yet you were starved, cradled in your father's flames.

Then came Jinu with his idea, and suddenly you were being fed. Flames growing stronger, but not enough to escape the pit you resided in. For every tenth sold, you got two, and when Gwi-Ma would take over, you could have more. Your little flame resided in the Night as the demons took to the overworld, ready to eat. Huntrix was broken, allowing Gwi-Ma to rise, the Honmoon gone.

The demon king used this to his advantage, consuming souls left and right as the masses walked mindlessly into his flames. The influx of souls made him grow, and for every three souls consumed, he sent two for you. Being fed at a rapid rate made you grow, steadily rising and almost filling out your little pit. Your conscious state started to understand, not a lot, but enough to realize your hunger. Everything had been going as planned.

Until it wasn't.

Gwi-Ma was defeated, sent back to the Night with the rest of his useless underlings. The Saja Boys were defeated as well, weakened severely with Jinu gone. Gwi-Ma’s flames weakened as they settled back onto their throne. Huntrix had nearly snuffed him out, but he knew the Honmoon wouldn't hold. The demon king yelled, snatching up demons and strangling their weaker bodies, burning them to crisps. His anger turned to a sense of despair when he checked on your growth, but your little pit was empty. The roar he released shook the Night, thinking his little flame had turned to ash.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You could 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡.

That had been the first thing you noticed. The ground was hard and kinda cold, nothing like the molten stone of your pit or your father's flames. You felt solid and heavy, in a way you didn't understand. Your hearing was greater than before, and it hurt. Everything was loud, things chatting and screaming, but it wasn't the sound of demons wailing in pain and anguish.

Your entire being ached in a way that made you want to yell, to cry out for Gwi-Ma, to understand what was happening. Everything was dark, something even more terrifying as usually you could see stone and flames. Even worse was the feeling of being weak, weak in a way that starving usually left you, but worse. Everything was simply too much.

A guttural noise ripped from something deep within you as you finally gained enough strength, and the first thing that happened was something peeling away from your vision. Eyelids. Panic hit as you realized your body was solid. Every new limb ached in a way you shouldn't have felt. The floor was concrete, covered in shadows between two towering buildings. The narrow walkway opened to another row of buildings as you could somewhat see, figures walking by. Tiny humans jumping and squealing in a way that made your ears ring.

Bright light cast down throughout the larger street. The sight of souls was tempting. Your vision blurry as you try to force strength into the rest of your new body. Your stomach clenched, a horrible acid taste filling your mouth as hunger twisted each new organ. Digging your fingers into the concrete, you started heaving, hardly moving in half inches towards the busy street.Each painful drag cut up your fingertips, threatening to break your nails.

Deep purple patterns traced your arms, fading in and out as you channelled any amount of power possible. You didn't even make it a complete foot before your body gave up, patterns darkening to stay as your cheek hit the hard floor. The scrape against delicate skin stung, a whine burning in your throat as your eyes closed. If only you could hear the noises coming towards you, the sound of shoes on pavement.

Your rebirth had been too soon.

Taglist:

♡ @enerofairy

[dizzydaisychains]

𝒜𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹 𝒞𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝐼𝓃

☾⋆ pairing: sylus x reader

☾⋆ summary: in which goodbyes are never easy and sylus can only try his best to find comfort in spending his final moments with you.

☾⋆ word count: 2.2k

☾⋆ a/n: this picture had me laughing but also crying because they both looks so sad ?? it inspired me to write this brief little snapshot of a doomed wedding and a last goodbye (praying the actual card gives sylus eternal happiness and not the abysmal ending i gave him…also i listened to as the world caves in by matt maltese on repeat as i wrote this hence the title…poor sylus…)

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆⋆˙⟡☾ ˙⋆⋆˙𖤓☽⟡˙

In the middle of the Cassiopeia constellation, eleven thousand light-years away from Earth, a lonely chapel floats among the stars. 

It’s a curious sight for anyone that manages to spot it; very few do. Because despite all their advancements in technology, many of the people on Earth still cannot distinguish the chapel from the thousands of stars that make up the constellation. Some have even started to question its existence. But that doesn’t stop the stories of course. The legends of the floating chapel and how it came to be doomed to a life floating in space. 

The stories all begin with the same premise: that once upon a time, the chapel lived on a planet named Philos, revered and loved by all until the dragon claimed it as his own.

The tale becomes murky from this point onwards. Some claim the chapel became the nest where the dragon swallowed his victims whole. Others say it became the entrance to Hell itself, born from greed and sin of the beast. But only two people know the truth. The forbidden lovers who sealed their eternal fate with an oath.

However, neither lived to pass down the truth; that in the end, the chapel became the place where the sorceress gave half of her soul to her beloved dragon. A deal to make. A price to pay. And once the dragon had been slain and his lover found dead in a field of flowers, the mortals banished the chapel into Deepspace, tossing it into the depths of the Universe as if it were nothing more than a pebble on the side of the street, for blasphemous deeds had occurred within the chapel’s walls.

It drifted aimlessly for centuries. An empty vessel with no place to call home, until one day, the Moon took pity on it. How could the mortals treat such a magnificent building with disgust and disdain? How could they not understand the sacrifice that the lovers made just for a chance to be together? 

No, the Moon simply could not spend another decade watching the chapel orbit nothing, so the Moon gifted the chapel to the little stars of Cassiopeia. And where humanity had rejected the chapel that had been soiled with sin, the stars of Cassiopeia welcomed it with open arms, for they understood how much it had meant to the forbidden lovers. 

After centuries of battling against the elements of Deepspace, today the chapel is nothing more than a shell of its former glory, an impressionist painting that has faded over time. But still, despite the crumbling bricks and rotting pews, small specks of beauty can be found among the rubble. Stained-glass windows and wild roses are among some of the surviving spectacles, and most of the steps leading up to the altar still remain intact. 

But the chapel cannot live within the stars forever. A building made by mortals can only last so long in Deepspace, and as the sun sets on Earth and the Moon awakens from its peaceful slumber, the stars of Cassiopeia whisper that tonight is to be the night that the chapel will finally be laid to rest after a long and arduous life. It’s what Destiny had written many aeons ago, back when the Moon had plucked it from its loneliness in the sky. All things must return to the Ether eventually.

However, Destiny had failed to predict that two familiar souls would enter the chapel once more in secret, their hands intertwined as they hurry down the aisle, desperation in their footsteps as they climb the steps to the altar together in tandem.

It’s the dragon! The great and powerful Stayrus! One of the stars exclaims as the others look down in bewilderment at the lovers. The dragon has found his beloved again, and thus he has renewed his curse! Another lifetime where he is unable to defy his fate! Another lifetime where his love has doomed him!

He is not Styrus anymore, but has been renamed Sylus by his other half, the Moon sighs, watching the lovers with pity as two pairs of eyes stare deeply into each other, not a single word uttered, yet there’s a gentle understanding that this is to be a bittersweet ending to a condemned romance. 

I wish I could have given you two more time, the Moon laments as some of the older stars begin to weep at the tragedy of it all.

As predestined, Sylus must say farewell to his lover tonight, for this is the cross the dragon must bear alone.

There is nothing more you could have done, my dearest Moon, the mighty star of the North says, comforting its friend as the lovers begin to speak their vows to each other.

There are still more chances to come. Their souls will be reborn, and a new lifetime will be created for them. And when their souls fall to Earth, we will guide them to each other as we always do, with the hope that one of them will find a way to break the cycle. 

The Moon does not reply to the North star’s words of comfort. Instead, it simply casts its silver light one last time over the lovers, all of Cassiopeia falling silent as down below, Sylus gets down on one knee and kisses the knuckles of his other half. You. The person who he has chosen in every life. 

Gold light blooms from where his soft lips touch your skin as a ring materialises around your finger. The vows, sealed with a kiss of pure devotion, have come to pass. Now all Sylus can do is sit on the steps of the altar and wait for Fate to fulfil its duty and take him away. Not exactly how he had imagined his wedding day, but when you only have less than ten minutes left to live, you’re forced to settle with whatever you can get. 

He stares down at the gold band around his finger. Nunc Scio Quid Sit Amor/Now I know what love is. Sylus reads the words that are forever engraved into the ring. A reminder that you were the first person to teach him how to love, and oh, how wonderful it feels to be wanted by another. A light in the abyss. A single rose that blooms in the garden of Hades. Hope. A dangerous feeling, yet Sylus can’t seem to let it go, even when faced with death once again.

“Do you really have to go?”

Your voice is quiet as you sit down beside him, your palms resting in your lap as your veil falls around your face like a halo. Beautiful. In every life, your face has remained as breathtaking as the life before. Every time he looks at you, it feels like the first time all over again, your beauty knocking the air out of his lungs with just a single glance. The playful twinkle in your eyes as you tease him, the way you know exactly what he wants, because it’s simple. He only wants you. 

But you are the one thing he cannot have, and now he must lay down his final valediction before he leaves. 

“I’m so sorry, my little dove.” Is all he can manage to say, his voice hollow as looks up at the stars.

“I’m afraid we weren’t meant to be in this lifetime either.”

He can’t bear to face you, even though he’s already memorised every detail of your wedding dress. The shape of every bead, the curl of every feather, the delicate patterns on every strip of lace. It’s all engraved into his mind. His only solace is that he’ll be able to take these memories with him into his next life, unlike you, who won’t even remember his name once your mortal body shrivels up and fades into dust.

“What if we don’t find each other next time?” you ask, tears beginning to stream down your face, your self-preservation failing you in these final moments.

“Sylus, what if this really is our last goodbye?”

Sylus swallows back a lump in his throat. It could be decades until his soul re-enters the Ether lifestream. And even when he is reincarnated, there’s a chance that your soul won’t be ready yet. That he’ll have to suffer in purgatory for an unbearable amount of time until he can finally embrace you again.

He thinks about lying to you. Thinks about laughing it off and ruffling your hair one last time. But his heart feels heavier than a shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean. What’s the point of lying when you both already know the truth? Perhaps you’re only asking him because you’re hoping he’ll feed you a little white lie. Anything but the silence. The waiting. It’s only prolonging the dreaded farewell. 

In the end, he can only speak the truth. 

“In every lifetime, you forget me,” he says slowly, taking your hands into his own as he turns to face you. 

“But it never stops you from finding me. Our souls are bound for eternity. No curse can change that.”

But it’s clear that you’re unsatisfied with his answer. 

“Why do I have to forget you every time?” you sob, the tears now pouring from your eyes as you squeeze his hands with every bit of strength you have, as if it’s enough to keep him from leaving. 

The ground begins to shake as the clock strikes midnight. The time has come. With nothing left to say in fear of upsetting you even more, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and heaves himself to his feet, trying his best to pry your hands away from him. 

“No!” 

He’s caught off guard as you let go of his hands and throw yourself at him, slamming your fists into his chest, screaming and cursing blindly as a black hole tears through Cassiopeia and a powerful force begins to devour what’s left of the old chapel. The structure wails as the scaffolding creaks and groans in protest, trying its best to hold on, but the chapel is tired. Like Sylus, it cannot fight what has already been set in motion, and so, it begins to let go of the final bricks that are keeping it together. 

“I won’t! I won’t accept this Fate again! There has to be another option!” 

Sylus stumbles as you grab onto his hand and begin to flee, dragging him behind you as the altar steps crumble beneath your feet. 

It’s too late, Sylus wants to say. He can already feel his Evol weakening, can feel his body becoming weary as he feels a small flame ignite inside his chest.

It’s only a matter of time now.

But as you pull him to the edge of the chapel, the look on your face makes him want to try one last time.

Please. Let us survive. Isn’t our love enough? 

You skid to a halt as the floor comes to an end, the vast emptiness of Space surrounding the two of you as Sylus awaits your next move. There’s nowhere left to hide.

“We’re not going to be able to escape this, are we?” you say, complete and utter resignation in your voice.

“No,” Sylus says. “But we can try.”

You laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes as he grabs your wrist and you both leap into the vastness of Space, both of you floating like two feathers in the wind. It’s glorious, like he has wings again, and you’re right there with him, gravity making your dress spread across the sky, transforming you into a lily in full bloom. The Moon sighs as it shines its light on you, for it too has fallen in love with the dragon’s bride. 

Sylus feels infinite as he floats closer towards you, one hand wrapping around your waist, reeling you in as the other holds your face, his fingertips tracing over your features as he tries to memorise the curve of your nose, the soft feeling of your cheek, the colour of your eyes and the soft pink of your lips. 

“I promise to find you, no matter what,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours as you look into his crimson eyes for the last time. “So wait for me.”

He slips his wedding ring onto your finger and slowly shuts his eyes, his body becoming weightless as the fire in his chest spreads to his muscles, then to his bones, and then finally to his heart. 

“Sylus?” 

He reaches for your voice, but it’s only getting further away. 

See you in the next life, my beloved. 

And just like that, Sylus is devoured by his curse, his body becoming nothing more than red and black particles floating in the air as you let your face fall into your hands, your sobs echoing throughout Deepspace, for you are alone once again, just like you were destined to be.

The stars bow their heads in sorrow as they watch their precious chapel disappear, leaving the widowed bride with nothing but two wedding rings and half a heart. Dimming their glow in lamentation, they bid farewell to Sylus as his soul leaves this lifetime.

Look after her for me.

His final wish reverberates among the stars as they promise to guide you back to Earth safely when the time is right.

For now, they let you grieve, for they know you will be okay in the end.

After all, you've survived this loss before. 

[razorblade180]

Brave the Lightning

Ei:*cleaning blade*

Miko:Look who’s up earlier than usual. Someone must be in a pleasant mood.

Ei:It’s easy to do when there’s no distractions well into the night.

Miko:Surly you don’t mean me?

Ei:….

Miko:Ah, silence. And after I went through all the effort to hand you these letters personally.

Ei:Letters? *turns head*

Miko:*waves them* Interested? Aether’s little one has been sending them nonstop these last few days seeking advice. Honestly, if she was going through all this trouble then you’d think she’d write to Ms. Hina or-

Ei casually took the letters and started reading them silently. She could feel Miko squinting at her.

Miko:I forget you’re not as playful this early.

Ei:I’m the same this morning as I am last night and the day before. The only difference is you don’t have to bait me for this. It’s not often letters from Aether or Paimon arrive; let alone about trouble. *flips paper* Hmm double sided.

Miko:I told her once we charge by the number of papers sent. She tries fitting too much in single envelope.

Ei:*folds paper* Miko, I’m stepping out for a while. Please-

Miko:If you think you’re going alone then you’re still fast asleep. It’s rare seeing how you problem solve such an unofficial and delicate task. Inazuma won’t fall to pieces in a morning if we step out.

Ei:*mild discomfort*…

Miko:You could also ignore the letter entirely. I’m sure a situation like this would be solved with or without you. Go ahead. Ignore a letter from a friend. *smiles*

Ei:….

xxxxxx

Inside the humble abode of a teapot, all feels still. What was the purpose of a journey? Some would say it’s found from the start; hence the reason for it in the first place. Others would argue the meaning is found throughout. Aether thought he understood his, but now, after recent events, he wasn’t sure of anything. He sat on soft sand as his gaze glossed over an endless horizon. It was almost as if he had woken up again. Although, an exhaustion had seeped in somewhere along the line. These days he felt like going back to sleep.

Calm waves stirred below the surface and brought unrest against the shores. How long will this journey go? Will it even have what he wants by the end? That was an answer out of reach, a question that took everything and nothing at once. To say he was numb felt inaccurate. Aether simply existed; for better or for worse, yet a certain stirring didn’t cease. It didn’t bring rest but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. It just…hungered. For what, Aether didn’t know. He did know however that any longer out here might cause Paimon to actually starve. A long drawn out sigh left his lungs. Time for the regular routine again. Aether stood up.

In doing so, the feeling inside grew. Only now it twisted and churned into something more turbulent. Nerves fired and his breath paused as his emblems shifted to electro; a faint but powerful voice rang in his head.

“Stay focused!”

Aether turned around quickly, summoning a Favonius blade mid spin and blocking the honed edge of Engulfing Lightning. The entire ground shook from the impact, planting his feet further in the sand. Whatever daze he was in, Raiden shook right out of him!

“What the!? Ei!? Why-”

“Where the mind fails to find, the body shall answer.” She put more weight down on her polearm. “Enlighten me, former enemy of eternity. Why do you stagnant of all people?”

“Agh! Raiden!?”

Aether’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening before pushing the spear off. Unfortunately it left him open to receive a kick in the gut that sent him tumbling across the beach and back onto his feet. There was no time for talking. She was already coming right at him with a swing that carved through the ground before slashing upwards.

Ei watched him spin to her right with a blade ready to cross slash. A backswing would easily parry. That quickly became impossible however. Geo crystals rose up between them, temporarily blocking her view of Aether before he spun left and shot a fireball to make her block. He immediately followed up with a kick to the body of the spear, creating more distance to follow up with an anemo strike to the sand right at his feet to create a dust cloud. The back swing was a complete feint. Interesting. Ei dashed away from the dust cloud before swinging down with enough force to part it easily. Aether was gone.

“He’s faster than last time.”

Ei looked up to see him high in the air. Another anemo trick no doubt. Several orbs of hydro manifested almost instantaneously before shooting down violently from multiple angles. A left pivot into a right got her past two. Engulfing Lightning spun from hand to hand between her fingertips to deflect the volley of hydro. One more complete pivot forward put Ei in perfect range to throw her weapon like a javelin right at Aether as he fell. Her aim was perfect and at his skill level, blocking it wouldn’t be hard. However, once again, Ei was left surprised.

Anemo wrapped around his body, twisting him around like a dance partner to avoid the attack. He reached out quickly to grab the spear, turn it around, then throw it back with impressive strength. As Ei watched her own attack come back like lightning cleaving through the sky, her eyes widened and muscles relaxed. Electro manifested in her right hand then projecting out like a shield that bounced the spear towards the sand beside her before it disappeared.

“Ah, I see. Forgive me. I wasn’t aware you found a master.”

It happened in a blink of an eye. Raiden was gone from Aether’s view. If it wasn’t for the sensation of electricity dancing in the air, he might’ve been too slow. Instinct brought his blade blocking left. Sure enough, the resounding noise of thunder came as Musou Isshin made contact with all its radiance. With no ground beneath his feet, Aether was sent flying over the sea while Paimon and Yae Miko watched the fight from the path leading to the beach.

“And there he goes…” Miko looked at the sheer terror of the travel companion’s face. “Why are you surprised? How did you think this would go?”

“What did Paimon think!? Paimon wanted Ei to help cheer Aether up! Not start a fight! She didn’t even talk first! She just walked onto the beach and attacked!”

“What did you expect? You think a little shared sadness is grounds for simple bonding? Since when has Ei ever chosen words over actions?”

Paimon couldn’t even find the words. She could only stare in disbelief with her hands open and slack jawed.

Still soaring sideways, Aether spun himself rapidly to send four hydro tornadoes to shore. He then struck the ocean with his blade hard enough to part his section of the sea, allowing him to fall on the ocean floor to make a geo pillar that rose him up before the water rushed back in.

Ei watched the tornadoes grow in size dramatically as they gathered more water; ultimately swirling together to create a massive waterspout. Both her hands raised Musou Isshin above her head. One single downward strike sent unrestrained power across the water and split the disaster. Glimmers of green shimmered in the electro charged air. Ei didn’t have to squint for long before realizing dozens of bloom cores were now flying her way.

“Hm, how resourceful.” She couldn’t help but smile. It’s been awhile since she had meaningful exercise.

Ei started running along the beach. Hyperbloom was a bit trickier to evade than hyrdo orbs. The guided cores did well to keep up with her at first. The archon did will to create distance between herself and anything worth keeping before turning around and blasting out electro for her left hand, reducing most of the cores to ash. The rest that came after her were far simpler to manage with her blade. Although with further analysis, glints of stone were noticeable.

“He weaved in geo.”

Like before, she spun, deflected, and cut through the salvo of attacks; distinguishing when to cut through a core or block a crystal until there was a cloud of minced elements. Ei went to cut through another core when her attention shifted back to the water. Coming in fast in hot was another fireball, and she was currently in the middle of dendro rich air. She didn’t even have to interact with the flame. Her brilliant Musou Isshin and earlier attack was all the electro needed to turn the flame violently unstable.

A massive overload explosion led to a bigger burgeon detonation. For a moment, nobody could see anything until a flash of lightning several yards away lit up the beach. Ei had reappeared as calm as ever with her blade slowly sliding through her left hand like a sheath. Paimon and Miko were familiar with that stance. They looked at the giant pillar in the ocean Aether was supposed to be on. It was already crumbling before the thunder reached their ears and impact brought more sea water rising to the heavens before falling like rain.

“IS SHE TRYING TO KILL HIM!!” Paimon screamed, not seeing Aether anywhere through the spectacle.

Miko on the other hand was observing as calmly as ever. The lightning in the air lit up the sky, turning her attention straight up above the sand. “Heh, how childish. Perhaps they are similar.”

“What?” Paimon looked up.

Ei had never lost track of Aether. She was staring at him the entire time, witnessing his emotions on full display with how he handled the blade in his hands. Purple and white lightning bathed his sword in immense power that grew rapidly. His eyes were squarely on her as he reeled both arms back further.

“So you dare to brave the lightning’s glow? Very well.” With a single hand, Musou Isshin pointed towards the sky. The realm rattled as the blade let out pure, divine electro in response to Aether. His face remained composed, hands unwavering despite the turrets in his eyes. Ei took a slow breath inwards before raising her second hand. “COME!”

Aether kicked off the air itself, descending like a star dragging lightning across the heavens towards its master. Ei didn’t hesitate. She swung down right when he did, clashing blades with him directly.

Trails of electro shot out in every direction, including towards the onlookers. For the first time since arriving, Miko acted with urgency. Tails sprung forth as she placed Paimon and herself inside her torrents. The oncoming attack curved into each torrent before getting sent out towards the water. Miko looked down to see Paimon clutching her right sleeve tightly, earning a smirk from the kitsune. Just this once, she would allow the little one to remain this close.

The rest of the excess lighting gradually began receding inwards before bursting in a showy display of harmless glowing orbs that surrounded the two swordsmen like fireflies. Seconds seemed to stretch out into far longer before Aether back stepped a couple feet. Ei studied his labored breathing. He remained poised and ready all the same. Truly an incredible feat. More importantly, the light was back in his eyes. One more brilliant than lightning itself. Ei relaxed her stance.

“Seems like the stagnation has subsided, wouldn’t you say?”

Aether was puzzled by the evenness of her tone. “Ei, I know it’s you and not the shogun.”

The archon blinked twice. “…Oh. Strange, I thought I was doing a pretty good job remaining rigid. Tell me, what gave me away?”

Aether’s shoulders slouched. Looks like talking was on the table now! “Your ambush attack at the start. If it was the shogun, I doubt I would’ve reacted fast enough. Meanwhile you manually shifted me to electro right before you attacked as a heads up.”

“Is that what you think? Personally, I simply believe purple is a better look on you. I must’ve subconsciously resonated.”

“She’s such a terrible liar. What’s so wrong with admitting she wasn’t trying to kill me?” Aether sighed heavily. He forgot how fickled Ei could be.

“Anyways…” she continued in earnest. “I actually believe you would block that attack under any circumstance. Even with a clouded head, your senses remain keen. It’s why I didn’t bother holding back.”

Paimon yelled from across the beach. “YOU SHOULD’VE!”

Aether still didn’t understand exactly why he just fought for his life. He got that it had something to do with Paimon most likely. Ei slowly approached him with no intent to attack that he could sense. Once she was several inches away, she smiled softly while presenting her blade.

“It’s been quite some time since I faced a blade that bore the weight of many hopes and aspirations. How does your blade feel in your hand?”

“…Heavy. Really heavy.” He mimicked how Ei presented her blade. “Too heavy at times.”

“And yet you can still swing it. I suppose it’s very fortunate that both of us have those around us to make sure we remember to put it down occasionally; and others willing to draw their blades to make a fight less arduous. Not that I need to tell you of all people that, right?”

The message and care was evident. In a strange way, Aether was on the same page as Ei. His body finally relaxed a little. “Right. I did spend quite a bit of time trying to tell that, didn’t I?”

“My thoughts exactly. Now then, a splendid sparring match like this could only be made better with hard earned desserts. Last time I was in this space, I remember seeing quite the variety.”

With that said, Ei took one of her most cherished possessions and let it pierce the ground in confidence that it would remain safe and sound as she made her walk to the main house. Not once did she look back. Ei did however hear the sound of a second sword joining Musou Isshin, then footsteps that raced after her until they were right beside her own in stride.

Aether couldn’t quite explain it, but he definitely felt a little lighter. Not to mention not as tired. The churning inside had faded too. Perhaps what he needed was to get it all out of his system?

“Ei, thank you.” He said with relief and renewed vigor.

“Think nothing of it. I enjoy sparring against talent and friends alike.” She looked down at his left hand. Aether was slowly opening and closing. “Does it hurt?”

“Tingles a bit. I’m fine. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Splendid answer. Still, never make light of any injury.”

With a sway of her right hand, excess electro pulled from Aether’s wrist and fingers. The energy gathered into her palm like an orb before dissipating harmlessly. Aether shook his hand out in awe. He felt fine!

“Can you teach me that?” He grinned.

“Of course. But first, sweets.”

Miko watched the two walk and talk. “Unbelievable. Not even a glance in this direction. They really are giant children; playing hard and then going to get snacks.” She said to Paimon, who was holding her own hand over her heart. “See? I told you everything would be fine.”

“Next time I’m sending my letters to Ms. Hina directly.”

“Why that wasn’t your first choice, I’ll never know.”

[whereserpentswalk]

It is possible to remove a human soul. For a long time mages thought there was no way to do it. Even the darkest creations of magic, vampires, werewolves, banshees, all still have souls, even if they're twisted and dark. But now, in this industrial age, we've found the way to remove a soul to be simple...

...You have to rip it out yourself...

Only you can remove your own soul. Nobody else can take it out for you. It's a simple spell but you have to remove it for yourself, on your own. You have to decide that you're better off not having one rather then having one. You have to make the choice yourself, that you'd rather be empty.

People without souls aren't some sort of shocking monster like how scifi movies and philosophers texts predicted. They are simply people, except they are entirely without any want or desire. They just passively exist without wanting anything, still doing what they have to do, but not yearning for anything more then what they have. The only physical difference that we've found is that those without souls are ever so slightly desaturated.

There are many people who remove their souls. About 0.2 percent of the population, which is small but not that small for a major curse that one has to inflict on themselves. There are a lot of people in this world who don't want to have wants.

Someone out there there's a worker in a coal mine, her lungs filled with ash, the skin of her feet and hands hardened by labor. She has decided to remove her soul, it was too painful for her to want a better life, so now she doesn't. She used to dream of finally getting out of her poor mining town, of going to university on the emerald coast, of seeing a wyvern with her own two eyes, of being a singer in some shining city, and now she dreams of nothing. She has no desire for a world beyond the mines, though the black air still scratches at her lungs, she doesn't have the feeling that she wants a better life. She still eats little more food then what her father can shoot, but she doesn't let her hunger for more be anything but physical sensation. When the miners form a union her soulless body is the first scab to side with the company. She is satisfied with the pay that she has.

There's a preist out there whose removed his soul and considered it enlightment. He tells the small fringe church that this is enlightenment and hopes to show the rest of them what he's found one day. He is finally what he considers pure and without desires. But the people who know him the most closely are the most disturbed. The other preists say that he no longer bothers to sing songs, or watch the sunrise over the mountains. The children complain that he doesn't take time to read stories to them like he used to. He tells them he no longer has the pain of even the most basic desires, that he has finally reached a calm, but nobody really has seen him happy since the transformation, calm and peaceful, but without any of the things that make him happy anymore.

There is a nobleman living on the shores of the emerald coast, who ripped out his soul waiting for a lover who will never return. He fell in love with a boy when he was young, and stayed with him for nearly a decade. But now the nobleman is being forced to marry some woman his father selected for him, and the man he loved is off somewhere he'll never know. He could have had that grief of mourning, could have remembered that smile, those shining eyes, those flowing locks of hair reaching like the arms of the sea across his chest. But he chose not to cry. Chose not to have happy memories. To be something empty that his father would be proud of.

Some say you shouldn't rip out your soul because some wants can be fulfilled, because the slave can find the freedom they yearn for, for the artist can finish their great works, for there is happiness to be had...

I think there's a simpler reason to not want to rip out your soul, I think it's better to be sad then to be empty. Within yearning for what cannot be there is some comfort, regardless of if the darkest of fates can be escaped or not. When there is only emptiness it the pain my become quiet and calm, but it's not like you won't be hurt, just that the despair surrounds you so much, and the pain is so deep inside you, it doesn't look like pain anymore.

[fr3akshow-d4rlin]

Universal x reader

Warnings: none, just lazy writing?

Sorry for being away for so long..?

He doesn’t smile when you meet him.

Actually, he doesn’t even look at you—just mutters something gruff as he brushes past, shouldering through the crowd like he’s fighting it. You’re standing in front of the community center bulletin board, taping up flyers for a neighborhood food drive, when he stops beside you.

“That won’t do anything,” he says.

You glance at him. He’s got tired eyes, a scar near his jawline, and an expression like he’s permanently disappointed in everything.

“Excuse me?”

He nods at your flyer. “People only show up when there’s something in it for them. You’ll see. No one wants to help for free.”

You blink at him, stunned, but something about his bitterness isn’t cruel—it’s just worn out. Like someone who gave up hope a long time ago and hasn’t found a reason to pick it back up since.

“Well,” you say brightly, “maybe they just need a reason. Sometimes people surprise you.”

He scoffs. “Not in this world.”

But he doesn’t walk away.

He stands there while you finish putting up the flyer. Watches as you smile and wave at a passing kid. And then, oddly, asks when the food drive is.

---

You don’t expect him to show up.

But he does.

Quietly, on the day of the event, dressed like he doesn't belong—dark clothes, hands shoved in his pockets, staying near the edges like he’s allergic to being noticed. You watch him help an old woman carry a box of canned goods anyway. When you thank him, he just shrugs.

You learn his name in pieces.

You learn he fixes things—motorcycles, old radios, anything broken. You learn he doesn’t like crowds, small talk, or people who smile too much.

So naturally, you keep smiling at him.

You run into him more often after that. He always insists it’s coincidence, but you catch the way his eyes search the room for you when he walks in. The way his shoulders ease when you say his name.

He challenges everything you say—about people, about hope, about kindness—but over time, the sharpness in his voice softens.

“I don’t get you,” he says once, when you bring him coffee just because it’s cold and he looked like he needed it. “Why do you bother?”

You grin, handing him the cup. “Because I like making people’s days a little better.”

“But what do you get out of it?”

“Seeing them smile,” you say simply.

He stares at you like he can’t tell if you’re lying or just deluded. But the next time, he brings you coffee.

Without a word.

One night, he finally lets something slip.

You're sitting on a bench under a streetlamp after helping out at the shelter. You’re swinging your feet a little; he’s hunched beside you, elbows on his knees.

“People don’t stay,” he says suddenly. “They take what they want and leave. That’s how the world works.”

You don’t rush to argue. You just rest your head on his shoulder and say quietly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes a moment. But then you feel him breathe out—like he’s been holding that air for years.

---

He doesn’t call what’s growing between you “love.” Not for a long time.

But you see it in the little things: the way he saves the last piece of your favorite chocolate, even though he pretends not to like sweets. The way he starts fixing things at the shelter without being asked. The way his walls are still there—but now there’s a door, and it’s cracked open just for you.

You don’t fix him.

You just remind him the world isn't all broken.

And slowly—slowly—he starts to believe it.

Because he believes in you

Weeks pass.

You keep showing up—sometimes with purpose, sometimes with snacks, sometimes just to exist in the same space as him. He still grumbles every time you call his name with that bright, sing-song tone of yours, but now? There’s a small smile hidden in it. You’ve learned to look for it—not in his mouth, but in his eyes.

He’s all edges, but you’ve found the corners where he softens.

The first time he lets you into his apartment, he says, “Don’t touch anything,” and you immediately pick up the weird little ceramic turtle on the shelf.

“Seriously?” he deadpans.

You grin. “It’s cute. Did you make it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He doesn’t answer.

But he doesn’t take it away from you, either.

---

There are questions you want to ask, but don’t. Not yet.

Like why he flinched when the shelter coordinator raised his voice. Why he keeps his fridge almost empty. Why he won’t ever let you walk him home—only the other way around.

Instead, you ask smaller things.

“What’s your favorite movie?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Come on, everyone has one.”

“…‘The Iron Giant.’”

You light up. “That’s such a good choice!”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say it was a choice. Just… stuck with me.”

You don’t press. But later that night, you show up at his place with two cups of instant noodles and a blanket, and you say, “Let’s watch it.”

He protests, of course. Grumbles about how you’re always barging in and that you’re too damn cheerful and why are you always cold and stealing his hoodies.

But you notice he lets you stay until the credits roll.

And after the movie ends, you find his hand inching toward yours, like it’s accidental.

It isn’t.

---

He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it matters.

“You make things feel different,” he murmurs one evening, when it’s late and neither of you want to go home. “Lighter.”

You blink, stunned

“That’s… good different, right?”

He glances at you. "You know it is."

Your heart does a stupid little skip.

---

Then one night, everything almost changes.

You’ve had a bad day. Nothing catastrophic—just one of those days where the world feels too heavy, and you don’t know why you’re crying in the stairwell.

He finds you like that. Silent. Curled in on yourself.

You expect him to say something blunt. Or leave. Or panic.

He doesn’t.

He sits down beside you without a word.

Doesn’t ask what’s wrong. Doesn’t try to fix it.

He just puts his hand on your knee, firm and steady, and says, “I’ve got you.”

You lean into him like he’s gravity and you’re so tired of floating.

He lets you.

And for once, his guard is all the way down. There’s no sarcasm, no eye-rolling, no careful half-smile.

Just him. Real. Raw.

“I don’t trust people,” he says. “But I’m starting to trust you.”

You turn to him, wide-eyed. You want to say something, something soft and big and terrifying like me too.

But he’s already looking away.

So instead, you reach for his hand again. No words.

He doesn’t let go.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Stay In My Corner

Chapter 3 - X-Men Comics Aren't Accurate

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

You and Laura talk

A/N: I didn't even pick serious pics for this one lets be silly. look how cute they are lol Warnings: Lil angst, laura and reader bonding <3, brief wound description and death mentions, not much logan in this chapter sorry ! (but next chapter....)

Series Masterlist

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Present Day

“Doctor?” 

You and Laura both looked up from where you watched Logan rest. Laura looked at you, silent- her expression concentrated and calculated as she watches your body language. She hasn’t said much to you since they were brought here, usual yes or no’s whenever you asked if she wanted something to eat or drink. You recognized it as the Howlett way- so much like Logan when he had first appeared in the mansion. 

“Yes?” You looked at the young assistant of yours. An ambitious girl who has potential to grow into a wonderful scientist. 

“We- Got that thing ready for you.” She says, glancing at Laura, who caught the look.

“You mean- Right..” You nodded, realizing what she was talking about, you stood up, checking Logans vitals one more time before looking at Laura. “You’ll be okay?” You asked softly. Her tense expression relaxed, and she nodded. “I won’t be long, but if anything happens-”

“The call button.” She says, repeating your instructions you’ve given her before. You smiled, and nodded. For a moment you wanted to ruffle her hair, boop her nose- a sign of affection but you restrained yourself, not wanting to make the young girl more uncomfortable than she already must feel. 

You followed your assistant, Penny, out of the room, taking one look back at Laura- and then Logan again as your brows creased in concern.

“Are you alright Doctor?”

“Fine.” You reply simply as you watch the door slide shut behind you, Logan and Laura disappearing from view.

“You have spent a lot of time with him, is he someone important?” 

You thought the rumor train would have spread by now; the Wolverine was here and dying. Your assistant director must have made sure the news didn’t spread. Didn’t need any other issues arising. 

“He’s…Someone very dear to me.” You say. You had a lot of words to describe who Logan was to you- but there was so many unanswered questions with him the last few years and you really didn’t feel like explaining a very long history. 

Penny, sensing your apprehension, simply nodded as you both walked through the halls together. The facility, a research campus and hospital where you work and live - Or rather, you’re the director, in charge of the scientific future of medicine this facility is meant to pursue. 

It’s a homey little place- something you made sure to be included in the design when Stark first invited you to be a part of its creation. While still maintaining the clean look- there were windows, furniture, plants, painted walls, to make it a place of comfort and healing. The courtyard that sat in the center of everything was a lush garden for patients and staff to walk through.

It was made for it’s staff to live in, the other half of the building was apartments but commuting was an option- it would just be a very long commute. It was surrounded by miles of forests, Canadian mountains in the distance, and if you climbed far enough you could see distant lights of American cities.

The facility didn’t exist. Located in the middle of the border of Canada and the U.S. It started out to be meant for research, especially regarding mutants, environmental changes, so on- but you lobbied it to be a hospital as well. Focusing on the health and well-being of mutants- and non-mutants as well, since mutant-kind is slowly disappearing. 

You glanced out the large windows as you and Penny walk by, into the large courtyard. Several of the children brought here were exploring. One found a bug it seems and they were all fascinated. A staff member nearby watches them keenly from the side. 

Making a mental note to change out the “babysitters” you assigned to keep an eye on the kids and help them out until they’re comfortable and familiar with the place. Johnathon- The current babysitter- wasn’t exactly warm.

You both reached the elevator, where Penny used her ID to gain clearance to the lower floors where research was held. Pleasant music played over the speakers as you stared into space, Logans pale face was in your mind, pictures flashing by; the blood that covered your hands as you desperatly tried to keep him alive, the flatline you listened to more than you can cared for as you kept restarting his heart, and the tears of the little girl who watched powerless. 

“We didn’t do an autopsy yet, but the subject is prepared for one if you’d like to perform it yourself.” Penny says. 

“Subject?” You look at her. “He’s a man Penny, not an experiment.” 

“Um..Yeah.” She nods. The elevator dinged, opening up to the sterile hallways. Unfortunately, you couldn’t maintain that homely feeling on a floor that needs to remain sterile. As much as you love research, you can’t stand how cold it feels. 

Penny led you to the morgue, an empty room with a few lights on. That’s where he laid. 

Another group was sent quickly after you had departed with Logan and Laura. They were able to rescue the children, and perform cleanup on the mess left behind before Alkali-Transgien, as you later learned was behind it, could come in themselves.

One of the casualties was this man that lay on the table before you. He shared the face of Logan and it haunts you to see the wound in his skull as he lies there lifelessly. He wasn’t Logan, you understood that of course. Yet you still felt sympathy, he was a living being no matter the circumstances of his life.

From what you could get out of Laura and the others- and your own understanding, he was known as X-24, another experiment made from Logans DNA, a perfect clone of him. Only this time made to do everything he’s told. He nearly killed Logan- may have still succeeded if things go badly. Yet you can’t bring yourself to hate him.

He was a victim to these sick and cruel experiments. Never given a chance of a real life. Never given a choice. 

He killed Charles- That’s what Laura told you. Charles, your mentor, your friend. Someone who took you in at your lowest and supported you no matter what. You only wished you could have returned the favor.

All this time, he and Logan were alive. 

“Stark mentioned about recovering the bones- They’re adamantium.”

“Why?”

“Well-” Penny stammered. “The…metal is rare, Even if it’s a small amount we could use it-”

“No. This man is not to be disturbed.” You say firmly. “Everything that happened to him…. He deserves respect in death.” 

“With all due respect to you ma’am, Stark-”

“I don’t care what Stark said.” You say firmly. You look at her and she lowers her eyes. “I know, you’re just the messenger.” Your tone softens, you look back at the body. “He needs a proper burial. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry about Stark.” 

She nods. “So nothing to be done?”

“No. Let the man rest.” You say. You reached to grab the thing sheet that was pulled away to reveal his upper half, and gently placed over it over his head. “He’s no longer going to be an experiment.” 

You looked at Penny, Logans face flashed in your mind again- a younger version of him. Happy, safe. You didn’t want to be away from him much longer.

“I’m going back upstairs. Is there anything else?” You asked.

“Yeah well…” She trailed off. “Since you’ve been busy there’s a lot of paperwork piling up.” 

Well shit.

“Got it, I’ll get caught up tonight. Thanks Penny.” You force a smile, turning to leave the morgue and heading to the elevator with a brisk pace. 

Going back to the floor Logans room was on, you walked past the courtyard windows again, noting the children were gone already. Glancing at the clock on the wall you realized it was dinner time. A thought came across your mind, wondering if Laura had eaten. 

Turning around, you went to the cafeteria, managing through the crowd to collect a dinner tray and grabbed a decent meal for Laura and hoped that she wasn’t picky. It was a burger and fries, with some fruit and chips. Kids love those- at least the ones back at the school did. 

You shook the thought away, and made your way back to Logans room

Reaching the room, you hit the button for the door to slid open- relief filled you to find things were the same. Laura looked over at you, and you let out a breath and smiled warmly at her.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

She nods, so you step in and present the tray. “Want some dinner?”

Her eyes brightened at the food as she eagerly took the tray from your hand and setting it in her lap. She immediately began chowing down, stuffing the food into her mouth- only to stop, glancing at Logan asleep in bed, and slowed her chewing. She looks up at you.

“Thank you.” She says. You beamed, moving to sit next to her.

“No, thank you for watching over him.” You gently bumped her with your elbow. A flicker of a smile appeared on her face, but returned to the same stoic expression and nodded. She turned her attention back to the tray to eat at a much slower pace. You glanced back up at Logan. 

“Laura, how are you doing?” You ask gently.

She pressed her lips together, and nodded. “Okay.” 

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Are you feeling okay? I know you went through a lot, and traveling with Lo….” You glanced up, wondering if he could hear you, a faint smile on your face. “He gets a little cranky on the road.” 

“He was mean.” She says as she picks up the burger. You give her a sympathetic smile. “But he protected me.”

“Yeah, he….” You laughed softly. “Has a temper. Always did, doesn’t make it right- But he cares, a lot….I’m sorry you had to go through everything that happened. I want you to know that I will do everything to make sure you and your friends stay safe.” 

Her face softens. She set her food down and turned away from you, reaching into her jacket that was slung over the arm of the couch and pulled out a piece of paper. 

It was actually a photograph, folded in half. You took it from her hands, giving her a questioning look as you unfolded it. You blinked at the picture.

It was you. 

Nearly a decade ago now, maybe more- You don’t keep very good track of time anymore. You were smiling shyly at the camera, leaning against a motorcycle- Logans- It was a birthday gift you got him. In the bottom right corner was a blurry fingertip, which made you smile. Logan took the photo- always terrible with technology. 

Laura tapped on it, signaling for you to turn it over. The back was your number. 

“So that’s how you called me.” You nodded. “Logan had this?” 

She nodded. 

You stared at the number. So he’d been able to contact you. Why didn’t he?

“He looked at it a lot.” She says.

You recalled he kept it in his jacket, or wallet, all the time. It amazed you it wasn’t falling apart yet. Aside from a few smudges, and the photo being worn where it’s folded- it was in pretty good condition. 

“Who are you?” Laura asks. “You and him?” 

She was asking who you were to each other. 

“Well….” You didn’t know how to start. “It’s a long story.” You glanced over at her bag, where several X-Men comic books stuck off. Reaching over you pulled one out. You flipped through the pages, heart aching at the sight of people you had called family, immortalized on page. “These comics are never accurate.” You shook your head at a particular scene where it had appeared you and Jean were having words about Logan. They always presented like there was some love triangle going on but that never happened. You and Jean were practically sisters; she and Logan had no romantic interest.

“There.” You landed on the page of you and Logan. Logan was visiting you in the”secret lab” that was in the mansion. You in your lab coat and absorbed in your work hadn’t even noticed him coming in until he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek, teasing you about working so much.

That was accurate.

Lauras eyes brightened as she recognized the cartoon Logan was hugging as you. She pulled out another comic, one that highlighted one of your famous stories. The time you went undercover for a research facility- posing as a lab intern to gain intel on what the company was pursuing in terms of mutant research. 

You weren’t much for the missions. Not really a fighter, you rather had stuck to the sidelines. The “guy in the chair” some would call it. Charles has insisted though- thought you were best to fit in. Logan convinced him to let him go undercover as a security guard in the same place. 

He claimed it was because you’d get better intel from different positions. Really, he just didn’t want to be away from you for 6 months.

During the mission, you got exposed- and you and Logan had to fight nearly the entire staff to escape. It was one of the only times you’ve ever used you powers to such an extent, and once it came out you were branded “A wolf in sheeps clothing”  of the X-men. 

Which you hated.

C’mon, you’re the director of one of the top research facility and hospitals, you have helped created countless cures, worked with both Tony Stark and Reed Richards to build a number of inventions that helped the human race and mutantkind and you’re remembered because one time you could fight good?

“Yeah, that was me.” You hummed. Laura smiled, before looking down at the comic. “So you’re a big fan of the comics?” 

She does a shy shrug and looks away. She looks at you. “You said you will keep us safe. Will we stay here?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “You all will have your own rooms, school, get to be real kids. Okay?” 

She smiled and nodded, returning back to her food. You leaned back on the couch, and watched her eat and Logan sleep. You drifted off, not meaning too- but exhaustion crept on you faster than you realised despite the pressing weight of paperwork on your mind.. 

When you woke up, Laura as curled up against your side with a blanket over the both of you.

[satinroses]

Hiii can I request a fluffy fluff dottore x f!reader? In which the reader is an angel and has a halo and wings, also she's Dottore's secretary (or personal assistant)? Pretty pls accept my request I need this troupe done more 😩

Yandere Dottore x Angelic! Reader

A/N: Of course you can gorgeous!! Thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy <3 , sorry this took AGES im afraid uni has been beating my ass and i had to get a j*b this summer </3 having money is nice and all but i can't believe im gonna have to work for the rest of my life, i should be out frolicking in a meadow somewhere, not working a 9-5.

There had been whisperings among his men that a new recruit had very unique features, unlike anything seen before. Dottore is a man whose thirst for knowledge came before all else. Adventurers from that damned guild place discovery above all else and are revered for it as heroes, Dottore too prioritises discovery over even the sanctity of human life and yet he was reviled and outcasted yet in spite of it all he remained ever curious. When he hears several officers discussing you he cannot help but indulge the nagging curiosity distracting him from his work

When it comes to his attention that you have these unique features he is very curious about you, were you part adepti? Did you have some relation to the heavenly principles? Perhaps you were a yokai from Inazuma? A thousand theories flood his mind, each one more disjointed than the last. He is half tempted to strap you to the operating table and cut you open, to pull you apart and see what forms you. Every vein and artery, each inch of flesh, every feather of your wings, every mole and scar and bruise and wound must meet the discerning gaze of his scalpel. You must feel the cold bite of his steel across your flesh. Let him break you down and build you up once more in his image. Once you have been remade once again, this time with him knowing each nook and cranny of your being, will he know satisfaction. 

The atrocities committed under his stewardship would doubtlessly incite the wrath of the divine, he mused for days on the possibility of you being an extension of the heavenly principles sent to spy and observe the endless preparations in place for the ever approaching war against divinity. You may not even be conscious of the fact that you may simply be a pawn in the God’s games yet should his theory be proven he could not allow you to live. He would make an incision into that soft flesh of yours and… as he began to think again about his plans to repurpose you, the urge to wince at the thought of plucking those wings was overwhelming.

His reluctance to harm you only drives his spiral of interest further. The level of empathy he is able to extend was near non-existent, it has to be in order to fulfil the Tsaritsa’s vision for the future of Teyvat. The doctor had long forgotten how it felt to falter or yield and yet he cannot bring himself to harm you. He has watched you for weeks now, day in day out. Reports detailing your daily routines have piled up on his desk. All it would take would be a word and some skirmishers would force you to your knees before him and he could do as he pleased yet he wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted from you. Perhaps he could rip that halo right off your head but then… what would he have? A meaningless ring of light? What would he stand to gain from harming you other than your resentment? Why would he rip you apart when he could keep you intact? Does he truly need to pull you apart to possess you or can he keep you his and whole? As each new day passes he finds himself less and less inclined towards gaining your resentment. Of course he ponders on how you may react to different stimuli but actually inflicting such distress upon you is something he will not entertain.

He is tormented with thoughts of you. What to do with you? Are your wings more or less sensitive? If he ran a hot poker or an ice shard across those delicate wings would they twitch? If he pressed gentle kisses to where the delicate expanse of your back blossoms into a delicate field of white plumes would you appreciate the restraint it takes for him to treat you with the gentleness he thought had long gone since disappeared from himself. He decides the only way to try and tame these conflicting thoughts is to bring you into his service. He must demystify you. Once he gets to know you he will realise that you are just as pathetic as the rest of humanity and he can return to his experiments without any unnecessary distractions.

Both his fellow harbingers and his subordinates were surprised to learn about Dottore bringing someone into his service. In his over 500 years of being a harbinger no one could seem to recall Dottore entrusting his work to anyone but himself. Of course Dottore will not permit you to assist in his experiments (If anyone asks he will insist it is to prevent sensitive information being leaked, in reality he frets over the possibility of you coming to harm), instead assigning you menial paperwork and administration to complete as he finally returns his attention to his long-neglected experiments.

Unfortunately for the second harbinger, your close proximity only exacerbated the issue, seeing you perched on a desk in the corner of his eye was nothing short of captivating. The faint glow of your halo illuminating your features and casting a warm glow over you even in the cold, dim lights of his laboratory, the way your wings gently fluttered as you adjusted in your seat, watching your delicate hands scrawl countless correspondences, the sound of your gentle breathing. 

Much to Dottore’s chagrin, he is besotted. He simply cannot cast you out of his minds despite his efforts. He entertained sending you away to some inane mission in the furthest corner of Inazuma to collect seashells, nothing dangerous of course, but he knows that distance would not remedy this illness you have inflicted upon him and the thought of sending you from his side leaves his hands trembling and ears ringing.

It was maddening, he cannot recall a time in which he felt such emotions, not even in his youth (much to the disappointment of many of his classmates) and most certainly not now that he was the mighty second harbinger. His power rivalled that of Gods and yet the thought of this delicate being could bring him to his knees

Initially he didn’t realise what he felt for you was romantic. He understood his fascination with you on a purely scientific level, you were unlike any woman he had ever met before, not just in regards to your physical attributes but also the warmth you seemed to exude, the tenderness in the caress of your hands over his as you handed him the letters sent from his subordinates. However he is eternally a practical man, he has yet to encounter something that he cannot produce a logical explanation for. As such he is able to observe the speeding up of his heart when he hears you call out for him, he takes note of the warmth that spreads to his cheeks when you look up at him, the way his eyes always seem to fall to your lips, the fact that his thoughts to you extend far beyond what he feels for any of his test subjects, how he frets over you when you part from his side. Looking at the facts of the matter he cannot deny the facts, despite his desperation to hide from the truth

Nearly paralysed by his constant thoughts of you and your wellbeing he realises there is only one diagnosis that will be able to get this out of his system. He must possess you in your entirety lest he be driven even more mad from deprivation of your presence. He will not permit a drop of your celestial presence to slip between his fingers and into the lap of some unwashed vagrant who thinks themselves worthy of his beloved's unending patience. He alone is worthy to stand side by side with your divinity and sup from the goblet of your tenderness greedily.

[ratasum]

Rolling around how healing magic in particular works in Tyria, largely because I don't think that healing is as easy and convenient in game. In game, it has to be that way- we need to be able to heal on the fly during combat.

In universe, I get the feeling it's a lot more like triage.

If you're a soldier - be it in the Pact, in any of the racial militaries, or the commander themselves - you need to be able to pick yourself up and get right back into the fight. Magic healing works best in this case. You effectively give someone an adrenaline shot and a slap on the ass and send them back into the fight.

Meanwhile, anyone else not in active combat seeking medical care is less likely to need immediate magical assistance except for to stabilize someone who's losing a lot of blood. Stop the bleeding then address the rest of the issues.

As a result, you DO see a lot of practical medicine in use in the vast majority of places in Tyria. It's far LESS common to see people actively getting treated for immediate injuries except for to triage immediate needs. A farmer with a broken bone is going to benefit more from a reset arm, splint or cast, and rest with some incidental healing to speed up the process than a fast heal.

And that can even extend to combat zones. You still need to clean significant injuries. Compound fractures, if healed with magic, can heal WRONG, leading to them needing to be re-broken and re-set. Severe wounds healed too quickly could result in a patient going into shock or worse, experiencing phantom pains, and significant scarring... in some cases it can also significantly increase the risk of infection.

I think you also see as many engineers as elementalists in healing fields, as well, simply due to the elixirs they can create. They're effectively Tyria's alchemists, creating mixtures that can have any number of effects on the physical body, and many choose to remain in that field, as working on medical devices created by asura and/or charr is as much of a challenge in itself as building their own devices to their own schematics.

Aside from that, I do get the feeling high level magic users aren't as common as in game. In game there's tons of us because it's an MMO, but in the world as it exists, I think the number of individuals with significant magic is considerably lower. Even in the Pact you probably have a lot of soldiers with basic training and maybe a gun but healing magic? That's for the commander and/or their companions!

I always just like playing with the idea of magic healing as a stopgap instead of as the core way healing is done. It leads to a blended world with interesting problems to solve on both sides: how much magic to use, when to use magic versus when to use traditional healing. Can you magic away a papercut? Probably, but it's more energy efficient to just slap some salve and a bandaid on it. It'll heal in a few days anyway.

[lilliths-story-studio]

For a pair of girls who talk as much as we do, there’s a whole lot of silence filling this trip.

Showers have been had and clothes had been changed. Cassy is patching up her shoulders inside. I’m waiting outside, hands tucked in the pocket of my jeans. I toy with the necklace therein and decide to take a walk along the property towards the barn. I’m no good at playing nurse and I’m still a bit cagey from my courage test in that cave.

I’d finally learned my lesson, choosing a light wash jean and white tank for the second half of our day. I’d been adjusting the hem when I’d popped out of the bathroom to find Cassy sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed wearing only a bra and black shorts. She was bandaging the cleaned scrapes I had assumed she’d handle in the bathroom. She had looked up at me, eyes puffy, and her mouth had opened…but I hadn’t given her the chance to speak. I’d simply told her I’d meet her outside when she was ready to go.

I still don’t like seeing her cry; that’s annoying.

The red paint on the barn is worn, but not drying or peeling. The door is padlocked, and I suppose I should have expected that. There are no sounds, and from Cassy’s explanation it seems this property is used regularly, but not predictably, so I assume there’s no animals.

So what’s in here now?

“Let’s go!” Cassy calls.

Back at her car, she’s changed into a new pair of torn, black shorts and a Garbage t-shirt. Her hair is back up in a set of pigtail braids, and there’s a large, silver pendant reaching just past the band logo. She casts quick eyes over my unbound, drying, black curls and ticks her tongue twice.

“…you should let me fix it.”

“I don’t know if physical contact is a good idea just now.”

I’m no longer in danger of causing bodily harm, but the knot tugging at my ribcage hasn’t loosened enough to be much more than cordial.

She blows out a breath.

“Just stay out of the woods with it loose like that.”

“Noted. Groceries?”

Maybe a Snickers will make me more charitable to her cause. It’s not like I want to leave her cousin lost wherever-the-fuck. But the girl had sorta walked right into the situation on her own.

The first twenty minutes of the drive pass with memories holding the space between us. My stomach reminds me of its neglected state, which in turn reminds me of how pleasant I’m not when I’m underfed.

“So what’s the necklace?” I finally ask, when I trust my own temper.

Poking the elephant won’t do anything but make it dance around nervously. We still don’t work well together under pressure, which isn’t news. But we still have to work together under pressure. So this unbreakable silence is not going to work.

“It’s the clue E showed me before she went missing.”

“The clue was a necklace?”

“She said she found it in the mine tunnels, so that’s where I went. I almost missed the edge of it in that hole.”

The hills rolling by are absolutely gorgeous- mottled hues of varying green reaching up towards the gleaming sunlight. It’s two in the afternoon, our bright start devoured by the unfortunate detour that had begun our morning.

“Why did you crawl so far in, anyway?”

“I went in after the necklace chain and notice what looked like a cavern on the other side of that hole. I thought I could make the squeeze through.”

“Because checking the tunnels that exist would be too straightforward?”

“Obviously, I misjudged.” Her lips press together. “Thank you for getting me out of there. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

How much farther to Alandale? Or Corbin? Did she say which one she was headed for?

“You’re welcome.”

There.

See? I can play nice.

“You’re still upset.”

Fucking Sherlock, she is.

The treeline offers no insight, so I try actually looking at her. One hand rests atop the wheel, swinging through curves with the relaxed casualty of practice. The other is curled around her cousins necklace, the silver chain pulling taut.

“I didn’t intend to go so far in, I swear. I just got…caught up.” Her hand wrings the wheel. “I should have gone with her in the first place.”

I’m inclined to agree, if for no other reason than my presence would have never been called to the situation. But even I know that to say as much would be a shade too cruel until we know what’s become of the girl.

“We’ll find her.” I have no authority to say that, but the stubborn woman I’ve always known just looks so damned lost. Her eyes are cast forward, but I have my doubts that she’s seeing much of the road. “Can I see the necklace?”

I’m surprised when she pulls it free without comment. The pendant itself is silver. The design is crafted of wire woven and wrapped in twisting bones to form a triangular shape around a coin in the middle. My brow furrows, holding it closer.

“Hold on.” I fish in my pocket and pull out Drew’s coin- the chain and the pendant are gold while the one Cassy has is silver, but the image on the pendant is the same.

“What’s that?”

“Amulet I got from Drew. What’s the symbol?”

“Not sure, I don’t have any research materials out here, but there a charge to it for sure.”

There’s a charge to both of them. Though the golden one feels older, while it’s silver doppelgänger feels more like an imitation of the same deep, thrumming tingle that I’m starting to notice from this odd little charm. Like the difference between the duckpond game that Jax is likely stuck working in my absence and any of the glittering lakes interspersed along our drive.

“So the coin was her clue?” I pass the silver necklace back and find myself fastening the golden twin about my throat.

“I guess. Like I said, we didn’t get a chance to talk about it.”

Cassy gives my coin another curious glance as she clicks on the local rock station. The rest of our ride passes in personality dj’s shuffling requests and sappy dedication stories.

When we roll into Alandale city limits, it doesn’t look like there’s anything but a factory lined with grain silos sitting across the highway from a worn looking Texaco. But after a couple of turns to pass behind said silos, we’re greeted with a humble stretch called Main Street that can’t be more than a block and a half.

We pull up halfway through the meager stretch of shop fronts. In front of us, a Walter’s Drug that looks big enough to hold a bottle of aspirin is connected to Ollie’s Grocery, both buildings crafted of orange brick. I’m surprised either of them are still operating, though as the only options not involving an hour and a half drive for the townsfolk, I suppose Walter and Ollie have a captive clientele.

By this point, Cassy’s shoulders have finally lowered from their post just under her jaw. The tension has eased from between her brows, and her hands are no longer white-knuckling the wheel. Sunlight stretches warm fingers over her hair as she pushes her door open, golden light combing woven sapphire into prismatic relief.

“I have the tab.” She says as we make for the set of glass double doors.

I reach for the handle out of habit, and she stops to look at me with a distantly familiar smile. It highlights the golden ring towards the center of her eyes and eases the remaining wrinkles from the corners of her mouth.

She looks better this way.

I hate that I still think so.

“I assumed you did- the least you can do is feed me.”

She rolls her eyes and passes into the store, and I try to figure out what the hell my pulse is doing as I follow her.

Inside, florescent lights line a total of six dry aisles, two check out counters, a line of meat coolers, two fridges and two freezers. Behind the cashier counter leans a wiry man with dusty hair chopped short and clean about his ears, Pointdexter glasses that try and fail to obscure the most remarkable silver-grey eyes, and a smile already on for Cassy.

“Cabin getaway weekend?” He asks her as we grab a cart and roll by.

The woman nods her head

He feels too clean for this place. His simple white button down is fitted, pressed and tucked into crisp, tan slacks. A bottle of hand sanitizer rests on the yellowing countertop beside him.

His pleasant demeanor fades as his attention shifts to me. The smile and his tone are both kissed by a winter breeze when next he speaks.

“New Friend?”

”An old one, actually.” She says, slowing her stride to glance back at me. “Coming?”

I raise a brow at the gentleman, who glances between the pair of us a moment longer before sweeping an arm towards the aisles.

“Yeah…”

The first two things in the cart are a bag of nacho dusted corn triangles and a 12 pack of carbonated depression. The hunt for them is accompanied by the squeak and wobble of the janky ass wheel on our cart over cream and white checkered linoleum.

“So y’all were out here a lot then.”

Cassy nods.

“I started coming out with her in high school. She was the only person who…got me, if you get me.“

I grab a bag of Funyuns and toss them in the cart. Somewhere in the back of my head, Jax yells something about sodium and I spite his memory with a second bag. I hope the jackass is helping Drew keep shit in line. It’s only the first day, so no one will even notice there’s a problem if we can get this done on the full moon like Cassy thinks.

That’d be nice.

“When is the full moon?” I ask.

“Two days.” She says, turning down the bread aisle and grabbing a loaf of honey wheat.

Today is Friday…with any luck, this could be handled before the crew ever even becomes aware that there’s a problem to start with.

I’m given directions to fetch granola bars while she grabs sandwich fixings. The journey takes me up the right aisle to spot those silver eyes watching Cassy in the large security mirror like a hawk, spindly fingers tapping the same off-kilter rhythm against his upper arm over and again. She’s climbing into one of the coolers to get an item from the top shelf.

Familiar.

Less familiar is the way the man is watching her. It’s calculated, and that smile he’d flashed her is nowhere in sight. After a minute he seems to notice my observation. His gaze cuts to mine pale as a blade in the moonlight, and it’s all I can do not to recoil.

There’s no anger there, just a sort of detached disapproval. I find my lip curling as I give him a similar once over. My glance to my ex is pointed, before I return my attention to him, eyes narrowing.

I don’t like her.

But I dislike whatever’s going on here more.

Cassy turns a corner and disappears from the mirror and his immediate vision, and I slip away to get the stupid granola bars. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I want to be done with this place last week.

Huey Luis and The News clicks on as I take my prize and make towards the corner I’d watched her disappear to. The synth heavy intro of ‘Do You Believe in Love’ gives way to the first verse at the same time that I see her drop a case of Miller into the cart, and I swear to god I’ve stepped back in time.

Her hair had still been blonde then, her mom hadn’t wanted her to color it. We’d been living together all of a month and I’d come home early from work to find her dancing across the kitchen, singing into her spatula, to this very jam. Given the vehemence with which she’d mocked the genre, she’d flushed a tomato red from forehead to throat. It had been both understandable and undeniably adorable.

I’d stolen her spatula and the spotlight, and we’d danced through the song together.

Here, today, she’s looking right back at me.

Does she remember that day? There wasn’t anything particularly special about the rest of it, but it’s one of my favorite memories. I haven’t been able to listen to this song since we split.

Her lips press together and she looks down, then up through her lashes. I know that look.

My eyes focus on the case of beer to avoid the confusing case of Cassy just past it. I toss my items in with the rest, stuff my hands into my pockets, and finally resolve to restore eye contact.

Mistake.

She’s got this little grin on her lips and the sparkle of embers alive in her eyes.

“Whatcha thinking about?” The head tilt is intentional. I’d told her on our first date, in line for the tilt-a-whirl, that I thought it was cute.

Drew had called my infatuation out that first night.

“To be honest, I’m still a little messed up by the past.”

I hadn’t intended to say that.

“Who isn’t?” She says softly. “I think we just learn to live with it the best we can.”

I don’t know if that’s the right answer, but it doesn’t sound entirely wrong either.

“Ready to go?” She tilts her head towards the front, and I turn to look down the long aisle.

I find Leering Larry earning his new nickname as he scowls back at the two of us. Or I presume he scowls, as it seems most in line with the personality I’ve glimpsed so far.

“What’s this guys deal?”

She raises a brow, seemingly amused by my question.

“You pick up fast when you’re not fuzzy.” She must sense my growing frustration with the constant reminders- or more likely it shows on my face- because she holds up a hand and bows her head. “I don’t mean that like you think.” She pats the case she’d dropped into the cart. “If you say it’s just beer and it’s not a problem, then I trust you. It would be silly to ask you to watch my back if I didn’t, wouldn’t it?”

The question drags a sharp needle across the moment. In sudden, scratching clarity the shine of Huey’s enthusiastic phrase is marred by the reminder of our current arrangement.

“You have collateral, remember?”

She looks into the cart and I tilt my head towards the front.

“Let’s go. And when we’re outside, you can tell me what’s up with Creepy Charles here.”

“He’s not creepy - just very protective of his town.” The light that had started to leak back into her dims and I swallow the drop in my chest.

At the counter, that smile is back in place for my ex and entirely absent for myself. No attempt is made to disguise the strength of his preference, and I find myself respecting the transparency and consistency, if nothing else. His eyes fall to the set of necklaces between us, lingering on me and mine for what seems a fraction longer.

“Interesting jewelry- friendship necklace of some kind?” He asks Cassy.

“Coincidence, actually.” She shrugs.

He tuts.

“You know better than that.” He looks to me. “And by now, you certainly should.”

What the fuck does that mean?

“She’s an old friend, but new around here.”

Something shifts and flickers in that mercurial gaze. It slides slowly back to her.

“Is she?”

His tone has deepened the slightest measure, and the way he says it sounds like a test.

“Yep, just came out to visit and catch up.”

Did she pass? Does it matter?

He looks at me.

“That right?”

It’s on my tongue to corroborate it, but the words get caught just below the pendant at my throat.

The hesitation seems answer enough for him.

“Well, I hope you girls enjoy your getaway. It was nice to meet you, old friend of Cassy’s. I hope you enjoy your time in the woods. There’s something about time spent in these hills- has a way of leading you to exactly what you need.”

I’ve officially had enough of the wacko behind the counter.

“Thanks.” I say, grabbing the last of the bags.

I’m all but nipping at Cassy’s heels to chase her out of this sideways ass store. She’s in no way off put by the man, which make me question my own read.

“You still worry about all the wrong things.” The words set my hackles up, but the tone is affectionate, soothing the damage down to a mild irritation. “He’s like you. That’s all. Charged, but harmless.”

She breezes through the door with her bags and I chance one more look back at the cashier. I rather wish I hadn’t, as now there’s a smile in place for me; I’m no more comforted by it than a bunny looking up at a fox.

I can’t say how alike we are or aren’t.

But I can promise, this man is not harmless.

Next Post

1977

"To be honest, I'm still a little messed up about the past."

"Who isn't?"

[soleillunne]

I AM FREE RAAAA

[wildbasil]

everyone say hello to creiddylad! 🥰👋🥳🥳🥳🥳

[cheekblush]

i need to remind myself that unfortunately a lot of mean spirited people exist that don’t wish you well and don’t want you to succeed but that’s just a reflection of their poor character and does not determine my worth 🧿

[maxdibert]

Honestly, almost everything you said is completely wrong but since I’m in a good mood, I’ll answer without too much venom, because I truly think you simply haven’t read the books and you just know these characters through fanfics:

“Not defending Barty because he's a little silly…”

Calling someone “a little silly” when we’re talking about a man Voldemort considered his most loyal follower, someone who killed his own father, let his mother die in Azkaban in his place, who canonically tortured and killed people, who imprisoned a man in a trunk for months and impersonated him while psychologically and physically tormenting children that’s just absurd. Barty Crouch Jr. is canonically a psychopath. He enjoyed inflicting pain. The fact that the rest of your text focuses on downplaying Severus’ trauma and justifying what happened to him while you dismiss Barty’s actual atrocities as “a little silly” says a lot about your bias.

Let’s be honest: you like Barty because of the aesthetic, because he’s shipped with guys, and because in your unicorn-and-sprinkles fanon you’ve turned him into a poor misunderstood twink who was abused by daddy (false), not understood (false), and who wasn’t a psychopath but merely eccentric (also false). Canon Barty was seen as a model student and no one suspected him of being a Death Eater, that’s what made the reveal so shocking. The version of Barty in your fandom simply doesn’t exist.

But anyway, let’s get to the core of it.

“The purpose behind James and Sirius bullying Snape was because he often talked down to people like Lily and other non-purebloods despite being a pureblood himself…”

First of all: Snape wasn’t pureblood. He was a half-blood i mean literally the title of a whole book in the series. The Half-Blood Prince. If you don’t know that, then you're starting from a place of zero credibility.

Second, James Potter explicitly states in canon that he bullied Snape “because he exists.” That’s a quote. At no point does he say it was ideological or political. James starts picking on Snape from day one, literally on the Hogwarts Express. He’s the one who jumps into Snape and Lily’s conversation to insult him unprovoked. At that point, James had no idea who Snape was hanging out with.

Even Sirius, post-Azkaban, admits they never knew Snape had become a Death Eater, only that he hung around with “the wrong crowd.” So where are you getting this justification from? Which fanfic are you quoting? Because the books say the opposite. They show James hexing people in the hallways “just for fun.” They show him stripping Snape in public and humiliating him because “he exists.” They show him using illegal spells on other students. Were those all future Death Eaters too? No — they were just random students James felt entitled to torment.

“He sought power with the Death Eaters and hated that Lily spent more time with Gryffindors and turned that into hate...”

Again: false. That literally never happens in the books. Snape is never romantically rejected by Lily because he never confesses any romantic feelings to her. They’re childhood friends. She repeatedly says he’s her best friend. Where are you getting this from? What are you talking about? Have you read the books? Any of them?

“On the Jily side of my head compared to Jegulus and Marlily, I headcanon them getting together in 6th or 7th…”

Your headcanons are bullshit. They’re not real. Canon states James and Lily got together in seventh year. That’s it. Regulus and James wouldn’t have touched each other with a ten-foot pole, and Mary McDonald is less important than a soggy Happy Meal toy. She has no face, no history, no personality, stop projecting your OCs into canon.

“The prank in question being when they hung Snape upside down and flashed everyone…”

You seriously consider stripping someone in public and shoving soap into their throat while they’re hanging upside down to be a “prank”? If I grabbed you off the street because I was bored, shoved a bar of soap down your throat and stripped you naked in front of a crowd, would you consider that a prank or a violent, humiliating assault? Be honest.

“Since we only have Snape’s side of the story years later, we don’t know the full picture…”

You sound exactly like people who hear about a woman being assaulted and say “well, we’ve only heard her side.” Do you understand how problematic that line of reasoning is?

Some things are canon. That James and Sirius were disgustingly rich and privileged? Canon. That Snape was dirt-poor and could barely afford clothes? Canon. That James and Sirius bullied people in groups while Snape was always alone? Canon. That their targets were never other rich kids who could fight back? Canon. That their reason for doing it was boredom? Canon.

You know what’s not canon? All the crap you’ve pulled from your fanfics.

Let’s be clear: this narrative you're spinning is explicitly refuted in the books. When Harry sees Snape’s memories, he’s horrified. That scene exists to shatter his idealized image of James, to show that his father was kind of a jerk. He runs to confront Remus and Sirius, and you know what they do? They admit it happened. They don’t deny it. They even joke about it.

And for the record, in literature, they don’t need to spell everything out for you. If Rowling shows you that James did this kind of thing for no reason, that Sirius found it fun, that Lupin passively enabled it and never once intervened — and that it continued into seventh year — that’s all intentional. That’s there to tell you that the bullying was systematic, ongoing, and cruel. You’re supposed to get it.

“The victim-blaming and abuse-excusing aspects of this are problematic…”

No. What’s problematic is pretending someone stops being a victim just because they later make bad choices. Snape did terrible things but that doesn’t erase the abuse he endured. The Marauders bullied and abused him, full stop. Denying that is victim-blaming.

“This fandom has no canon…”

This fandom has seven canon books. That you refuse to read them is your problem. And no, none of this “relies on headcanon.” You choose to ignore canon and make excuses for a gang of privileged bullies. That’s on you and your classism, frankly.

I hope this reply has been clear and comprehensive. If it’s still not enough, I invite you to check out my metas on Snape and the Marauders I’ve written several, and they break down exactly why takes like yours are not only wrong, but deeply problematic.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, I went on a trip to the dumb side (I was scrolling down the anti Snape tag) and the way people hate Severus not only seems childish and willingly ignorant because 99% of the people are talking about fanon, they hate him because Lily rejected him a million times and he wouldn’t take no for an answer, the irony of these idiots to know nothing about canon but having the courage to brag about their ignorance but the other 1% that calls him an incel feels like a projection, they go on and on how Snape is like guys they’ve known, their hate is blown out of proportion and personal that is hard to take them seriously because again, they have 0 understanding of canon and lastly, I think how they’ve been adopting Barty and Regulus, whitewashing them into poor little boys that were forced to do evil while actively and yet again leaving Severus out of this new trend feels like someone started it and was being petty like ‘see? Even the other nazis were better than Snape’ also they love to be politically incorrect but seriously hating Severus so bad and for non canonical reasons, treating him as the devil incarnate is becoming like a case of mass hysteria because I’ve yet to see someone giving an actual argument against him, not the regurgitation of the same five, six reasons

Golden Trio fans usually hate Severus for being an asshole to the kids (which is fair), while a lot of Voldemort fans hate him basically for being a traitor (also fair, because for them, he was). But Marauders stans don’t actually have any coherent reason. The only thing that really bothers them about Severus is that he was the actual victim of that little gang, and because of him, their favorites are exposed for what they were: a bunch of aggressive, privileged bullies.

Severus is also a problem because he gets in the way of turning Lily into some untouchable saint. If you really look at her choices and priorities, they come off as deeply insensitive and lacking in empathy, considering she ended up marrying a guy she’d seen abuse people for years. And as for James, he’s left looking like a privileged, abusive jerk. And they don’t like that, because for some reason they’ve convinced themselves Lily and James were flawless heroes who should basically be canonized when in reality, they were a hyper-normative, privileged couple who never actually knew what it meant to suffer, and who ended up dead because they thought playing at resistance was a game and because of their own prejudice against the people around them.

Basically, they’ve got nothing in canon to back their headcanons up, because canon makes their faves look like victim-blaming, abuse-excusing, classist assholes. So all they have left is to make up whatever crap they can.

[robinmage]

no kind of relationship will ever be as impactful as the slightly toxic slightly homoromantic hyperdependent bestfriendship you had with someone when you were like 12