#if you sever a spirit from the fade will you just straight up die

[fatedmuses]

//do you think if you tried to make an ancient elf tranquil it would:

a. actually make them tranquil as we understand it today

b. straight up kill them

c. force them into uthenera basically

[icyowl]

Infinity

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader

Scenario: Gojo’s Infinity protects you

A/N: But just imagine a fatal attack from a cursed spirit is rendered void at the last possible second by some unforeseen force. Gojo knows his ability well enough to conclude it was him -- rather, Infinity -- that protected you. How was that possible? You think of what the Infinity is, what it does for Gojo, and come to a wholesome conclusion (3.37k words).

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The curse was fast and brutal beyond measure. Of course Gojo could handle this thing easily, but you never got to do anything when you were paired together. Please you’d asked adamantly, and who was he to deny you some fun? Now though, you were beginning to regret the insistence. It wasn’t your fault this curse was literally an avalanche. All those negative emotions of fear, loss, and the like surrounding the casualties of avalanches; no wonder the curse was so strong. Power, you expected; ruthlessness, you anticipated; cunning, it was a given. What had caught you off guard was the pure speed this curse possessed. It made sense though, given how quickly an avalanche could overwhelm the landscape. The sheer determination of this curse had forced you to think defensively, and you fell back to Gojo to catch a small breather.

“Need help?” He looked back at you over his shoulder, cheeky and relaxed. Though annoying, his attitude made sense. Wouldn’t you be a little confident if you were untouchable?

“I got it, just need to come up with a gameplan.” You said, wiping dirt and sweat from your mouth. Obviously there was little chance of outpacing it and executing a surprise attack, so you’d have to either slow it down or simply overwhelm it by force alone.

However, this curse wasn’t just fast. It was smart, too. If you didn’t know that already, it became apparent when the thing launched at you from underground. You’d been listening for Gojo’s reply, not your surroundings. The curse had keyed in on that and now the monstrous claws it possessed were rising up to your face too fast for either you or Gojo to stop. This would be your last moments as your normal self for sure. It was too fast, and while you or Gojo would likely stop it from doing anything fatal, you’d still be horribly injured and likely disfigured. At least it would be at the hands of a lightning fast special grade curse and not something dumb or weak. Would you lose one or both eyes? The pain alone would be unimaginable, and the recovery would probably take some time even with Ieiri’s help -- if you survived. Your heart shrunk in on itself, preparing for the incoming assault. Maybe you would die. After all, the talons possessed by the curse were as long as you were tall and reinforced strongly with gleaming cursed ice. There simply wasn’t a way around this. All the missions you and Gojo shared had been fun; perhaps you could be his ‘man in the chair’ or something. 

Of course Gojo would never treat you any differently no matter what happened to you or what you looked like, but the prospect of possible grave injury wasn’t exactly going to boost your self confidence. You could see the countless hours you’d spend in the bathroom thinking about how you could look better or maybe fix the wounds this creature was about to cause you. Gojo was already capable of snagging any gorgeous dame off the street -- perhaps an angelic singer, or maybe a worldly photographer. This impending wound wouldn’t do anything for your self image. What would the bystanders whisper this time if you walked the town, hand holding Gojo’s, and holding a walking stick or an eyepatch? You’d never want to put him through that.

The curse’s weapons hit your forehead and on either side of your eye. Blood gushed profusely and pain sang straight to your brain. It hurt in a way that stopped your thoughts from functioning… but then it faded. It subsided quickly enough to be a wound much less severe than it should have been. When you opened your eyes the blood from your wounds flowed in freely, but surprise kept you from blinking away the irritation just yet. The curse groaned and struggled to impale you, but was kept as bay. Nothing physical was holding it back -- not Gojo’s outstretched hand or any other kind of entrapment, and yet you were kept safely out of reach from the worst of the attack. The more the curse tried to close the gap, the more the space around its arms flexed and undulated. The very air around you wouldn’t let it get any nearer.

You were stunned, but Gojo didn’t wait around for answers. He catapulted the curse far off into a nearby river with an explosion of spinning red light and wrapped your snuggly to his chest with his free arm. An ominous void erupted from the atmosphere behind him and he simply leaned back into the growing swirl of fathomless darkness. Going through one of Gojo’s space-altering wormholes was always a strange experience. It felt cold and dark yet overstimulated your skin simultaneously. You used your arms to pin his own more tightly around your midsection. It was very important you not get separated from him during this alteration in space and time. When you first were presented with the idea of joining Gojo in one of his spirals of darkness you’d been incredibly nervous. Who wouldn’t be? All sense of… well… sensation, became warped and distorted. Firstly, it didn’t sound fun, but secondly, it was a known fact that you had to stay incredibly close to Gojo in order to make it to the other side. He, of course, took that point in the conversation as a perfect opportunity to slip in a crude joke about having to stay close, but this was serious! What if you got separated by some freak accident? Obviously he eventually won you over, but it still made you nervous.

The fresh air of the earth’s normal dimension was welcoming when you emerged from the shadows to arrive in his room at the school. You said nothing while he sat you on his bed and moved with hasty strides into the bathroom for a medical kit. It was late at night and Gojo prefered to patch you up himself when the wounds were minor so Ieiri didn’t have to be bothered. It took a while to see under his mask of humor, but after some time you could tell Gojo simply enjoyed tending to your wounds when he could. It was a quiet and intimate activity that made him feel like he was doing something to help you. At least, that’s how you explained it.

The full moon blazing a path in through the partly open window meant there was no need for artificial lighting. It was nice; it made it feel like you were the only two here.

“Can we talk about what just happened?” You said towards the bathroom.

“I don’t think there’s much to discuss.”

“Satoru--”

“Found it!” He called and waved the large orange back out into the doorway for you to see. You couldn’t help but giggle at the antics.

“That’s good, but I can’t see what you���re showing me.”

The blood had run so freely into your eyes it was impossible to keep them open. Every brush and swipe of your hand was useless since the blood simply overcame your face again. Gojo’s large bulk was heavy in his dress shoes, but he was quiet while he leaned in close and helped wipe the blood off your face and neck. He would have gone to wipe your chest too had you not batted at his roaming hands. There was a lively chuckle, but he returned to your forehead without a word. Finally you could open your eyes. Gojo’s grin was satisfied; it betrayed the happiness he experienced while taking care of you. His large hand kept the towel above your eyes with a firm pressure. You knew what mirth his gaze must have held, even when you couldn’t see them.

“He got you good, didn’t he?”

“He should have gotten me worse. What was that?”

“Sweetheart, if I knew, I would have told you. It was rather fascinating though.”

“But you have an idea, right? That had to have been your Infinity. Did you feel it activate?”

Gojo’s free hand rummaged around in the med kit for the tools needed to patch up the wounds to your face. “I did.”

“So what does that mean? Infinity only works on the user; we know that.”

He pulled the rag back off your head to inspect the wound only to rapidly replace it. “Head wounds always bleed so much even for small scratches.”

You simply watched him work for a while. One would think that, given Gojo’s near-invulnerability, he’d be pretty bad at treating and fixing wounds. The truth was actually quite the opposite. To be fair, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that bleeding needed to be stopped, injuries should be cleaned, and then everything should be bandaged appropriately. He did have a good teacher though: you. It still made you laugh to remember walking him through patching you up when you’d come back from skirmishes less than unscathed. Back then the man was unsure that sticking the needle through your skin wouldn’t somehow strike an artery and cause you to bleed out, but eventually he became an experienced hand. After all, in this line of work, he always had plenty of your injuries to practice on.

Silence was prominent while he uncapped a bottle of rubbing alcohol, placed a swab on the exposed tip, and rocked it back and forth to soak the material. You didn’t want to flinch when he came at your eye with the foul smelling wad, but you couldn’t help it. Alcohol on open wounds didn’t exactly feel good. He did apologize though. Despite the obvious gore, it was sweet to have this moment with him. Any time you were this close to him was cause for enjoyment. It wasn’t only his skill that made you feel safe and cared for, it was also the persistent commitment he had to fixing you up. This wasn’t a chore for him; Gojo wanted to be the one to treat your wounds. Was it because he desired to help you in your time of need? Did he revel in being the one to address your vulnerability? Looking at his softened face told you he felt all of that and more. He was the best, but he could really be Type-A sometimes.

“Can we talk about this?” You had to grab his arm to get him to look away from his work.

Gojo knew he had become too focused on the task at hand. “Sorry.”

“What do you think it was?”

“I don’t know.” Gojo replied, chasing your head down with another bunch of cotton after you flinched from the stinging pain again. “I wasn’t trying to make it happen, and Infinity doesn’t have a mind of its own.”

“Could it happen again? Not that I wanna risk my life to see if it’ll work. Just curious.”

The blood coming from the major wound on your forehead finally seemed to be subsiding enough that Gojo could remove the pressure. He poured a healthy amount of alcohol onto it and rammed the offending cloth back onto your gash before you could attempt an escape. The squeal of pain couldn’t be helped. One of Gojo’s powerful kitten-kisses to an unblemished part of your forehead almost made you forgive the previous assault. “I’d say it was a fluke. Perhaps Infinity decided that if the attack were to pass through you, it would hit me.”

“That can’t be the whole story. It’s your ability, Gojo, you have a knack for cursed energy unlike anybody else. Surely you know what your own ability was trying to accomplish.”

“Cursed techniques don’t try to accomplish anything, they’re not sentient.”

“Well… do you have any ideas?”

Gojo’s imposing frame neared your seated one with a haughty swagger. He was relentless with his antics, so your heart stuttered at the anticipation of his incoming actions. What was he thinking now? That grin wasn’t just any typical one; it was wily, conniving, and strong enough to force you to sit still in apprehension and just take whatever he was going to do to you. You were surprised when his large hand fell onto your head gently with a poff. A single finger rubbed in a kind of subtle, childish stroke.

His face leaned down very close to your own. “You won’t let this go, will you?”

It took a second, but you managed to avoid thinking about the way his presence made you feel and how his hand began to heat up the top of your head. “Not really.”

Gojo’s next movement was too fast to react to. He collapsed onto the space behind you and yanked you down swiftly to fall into his long arms. They mindlessly reached for your waist and -- had you possessed a fighting chance -- you would have tried to wriggle away. The affectionate invasion of your space was nice though in its own way, so you let it be. “Well alright, let’s go down the rabbit hole. Suppose my Infinity gained a mind of its own and tried to save you. How come you still got hurt? Sure it stopped the brunt of the attack, but I’m still wiping up your blood.” Gojo grabbed the white-turned-brown rag and waved it in front of both of you.

“Well I can’t imagine it would work as well for me as it does for you.”

Now flirtatious Gojo had been awakened and was taking over. He moved you carefully off his body and got up to hover very close over you. The smirk was powerful; he knew the exact amount of minimal space he kept between you both. If you took a large inhale you’d just be grazing his coat. The anticipation of his weight made your heart grow swiftly in strength.

“I’d say we should just thank our lucky stars and get onto more fun things. All this contemplating is boring.”

“I…” you had to find your brain again amongst the pool of feelings he was causing it to drown in. Thoughts were hard when that kind of water tasted so sweet. “I still wanna talk about it.”

Gojo huffed in fake annoyance and sat back on the bed like a normal person with a healthy respect for space. He helped you to sit up next to him -- no doubt he could tell the head trauma and blood loss made sudden changes in orientation a dizzying experience. Your sense of balance took a moment to catch up with your eyes, but eventually it got there. By the time you could see properly Gojo had slid a leg up next to you and propped his arm up on the bent knee.

“So what did we discover? Techniques have their own thoughts and feelings?”

“No, Infinity doesn’t have a brain, but a person’s conscious brain -- even yours -- only picks up so much. What about something deeper than that, like a subconscious need to protect a person close to you?”

His head tilted like a cat. At least he was giving your rambling thoughts their due consideration. It was nice to have a man kind enough to indulge things that were important to you even if he himself didn’t see the reason. “I suppose a honed subconscious mind could interpret the impending harm to an important thing and use the instincts a person has on hand to act where the developed brain cannot. What do you think?”

Now was time to buck up and just say what you were thinking. Gojo was on board with his technique acting as an extension of his deeper emotions and feelings. This was the time to tell him what you thought that meant. You rubbed your thigh as some sort of physical outlet for your overwhelming thoughts. Of course Gojo picked up on it, but he said nothing. He was going to let you get through it like he knew you could. He wouldn’t laugh out loud… right? 

“I think the Infinity saw me as something special to you. Harm coming to me would affect you just like a physical injury. At least, that’s what I’ve come up with.”

And now he was just propping himself up with his lean arms behind him and smiling a snarky smile at you in the shape of a crescent moon. Could this guy just give you a small break from his incessant humor this once? Now you felt stupid and love-struck and totally at the mercy of whatever was going on under that infuriating blindfold. Christ, maybe this was his roundabout way of ducking under the inherent meaning of your words. You’d basically just told the man he needed you to survive -- talk about cocky. These obvious thoughts of romance had turned you into a love-hungry teenager.

“I know it’s silly, just forget--”

Gojo stopped your thoughts dead by securely grabbing one of your wrists and pulling you slowly yet deliberately over to him. Like a child in need of coddling, you obeyed without rebuke or struggle. After all, Gojo did give the best hugs. His stature made him the perfect size for nestling under his lean chin and basking in his aura of calm confidence. The adrenaline of the near-death experience was beginning to wear thin, and you hoped he wouldn’t mind the tremor in your flesh while your unsteady fingers softly took hold of his jacket. Those claws had been a few centimeters from probably killing you -- and they may have -- had Gojo’s cursed technique not basically broken its own rules of combat and defied literal space to keep you safe. The fact it was a miracle had finally hit you, and the blood loss didn’t help your unsteadiness. His other arm wrapped around your shoulder to perch there as a friend’s might, but it was just what you needed to feel better. Damn this guy was good.

The both of you enjoyed each other's presence for some time while Gojo helped you regain your bearings from the fear shaking in your bones. Once in a while a hand of his would delve into your hair and give a couple grounding strokes. You didn’t realize you’d let out the occasional noise of contentment, but the man around you did. For Gojo, having proof of you within arms reach was an extreme relief. He’d gotten a good look at the gash and small cuts on your face; he’d get an even better look when he was confident you were feeling better and went to stitch them up. They were going to be deep and deadly had they not been stopped. Out of all the times that little trick would have been handy to manifest, out of all the people his technique had ignored, it had been you to cause it to… evolve might be the right word. Gojo looked down at the little body curled up close, totally confident he would protect her and convinced nothing bad could ever happen. He began to understand why Infinity chose you of all people to save.

“If anything did happen to you I think it would feel something like a stab or the break of a bone. I can see why you would think that.”

You hoped your eyes weren’t so wide it was awkward. This was Satoru Gojo; he wasn’t known for heartfelt declarations like the one you’d just heard. He stared off straight ahead with a typical smile like he’d said nothing at all. Now was your turn to return the favor. Conscious or not, he did save you, and you wanted to repay the kindness shown to you by the deepest part of him. You couldn’t get any closer, but still you attempted to nestle deeper into his hold.

“Just to let you know, Satoru, I’d do the same for you.”

Gojo thought about your tiny self, filled to bursting with rock-solid determination, and knew you were telling the truth wholly and with perfect exactness.

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Hi! Glad you made it this far. I fee like I struggle sometimes to properly portray Gojo, so let me know if you think there’s room for improvement. Thanks for giving my work your time :).

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tedious Joys - Chapter 6 -

- Ao3 link -

The jade pendant Lan Qiren had worked so hard on had not stopped burning painfully hot since what he now knew was the day Jiwei had been shattered. It retroactively made perfect sense why his music could do nothing to calm the flames no matter how soothing; the pendant was so hot as to be dangerous even to him, a cultivator in his prime – even if not the most martially inclined – and in all honesty he had not dared to wear it since that day.

Despite this, he hung it on his belt before leaving the Cloud Recesses, ignoring the discomfort.

If Lao Nie did not recognize his sons, which he prized more than the stars in the sky, more than his own life, he would not recognize Lan Qiren no matter how good friends they were. Lan Qiren knew better than to flatter himself in that way. He was confident in Lao Nie’s affection, in his trust and even his love; he had never once doubted that when given a choice, Lao Nie would pick him over Wen Ruohan every time, no matter how often the latter shared Lao Nie’s bed – but Lao Nie was not himself right now, incapable of making rational decisions.

Lao Nie had raised his own hand against those he loved, something he would in the normal course of events never do. Lan Qiren would likely share the same fate as Nie Mingjue, only with even less power to defend himself – he had only music and wise words and inferior swordsmanship on his side, and of those, only his music had even half a chance of stopping a maddened charge.

He would need every advantage he could get, and the jade pendant, he hoped, would provide one.

Lan Qiren left the Cloud Recesses with his guqin over his back, his sword beneath his feet, and the jade pendant burning into his thigh, Nie Mingjue at his side. He hoped that Lao Nie might be able to draw some comfort from the jade pendant, which had been tuned to Jiwei’s frequency; he hoped that he could calm Lao Nie’s wrecked mind with his playing the way he had once sought to calm Jiwei’s rage.

And if neither of those worked…there was still his sword.

To the best of his ability, he would not allow Nie Mingjue to be harmed.

Lao Nie would have agreed, if he could.

When they arrived at the Unclean Realm, both Lan Qiren and Nie Mingjue were exhausted from their trip; even with regular breaks, it was not an easy journey to make by sword, much less twice over, with several days or even a week or more of travel being more customary. Lan Qiren had insisted that they rest for a few shichen in a town just outside of the borders of the Qinghe Nie sect to recover even more of their strength, and tellingly Nie Mingjue had not disagreed.

The Unclean Realm towered over them both as they approached, and to Lan Qiren’s eyes it somehow seemed more intimidating and imposing than that familiar, beloved place usually was – it was as if the tragedy within its walls had tainted it, giving it a more sinister aura than usual.

The guards of the Nie sect were unhappy to see Lan Qiren, as he’d suspected they would be, but they could not override Nie Mingjue, who ordered them to let Lan Qiren enter. A Nie disciple, older even than Lan Qiren but with exhaustion and fear written into every line of him, met them by the entrance, telling them that the Sect Leader was in his study – and that he was asking for them, or at least for Nie Mingjue.

“How is he?” Nie Mingjue asked, and glanced sidelong at Lan Qiren, explaining, “There are times when it is worse, times when it is better and he’s almost himself…”

“Forgive this humble one,” the disciple said, sounding tired. “The Sect Leader’s state is not good. He believes himself to be surrounded by enemies, besieged and betrayed. He believes we have taken you away from him purposefully, Nie-gongzi, and he fears for your well-being.”

Nie Mingjue’s face crumpled. “And when he sees me, he’ll think I’m one of the ones hurting him.”

“It is not your fault,” Lan Qiren told him in an undertone as they walked towards to the study. “He’s been infected with the saber spirit’s rage, becoming unbalanced – not just unbalanced, but unable to find himself. Just like a saber, he sees everything around him as a target, and seeks their destruction.”

Nie Mingjue’s head dropped in a nod. “Baxia’s just the same. She longs to eradicate evil, but her definition of evil is – wider than it should be.”

“We are all made of good and evil,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Right now, Lao Nie can only see the evil, not the good. That’s why he can’t recognize you. He loves you too much.”

Nie Mingjue nodded again and stopped in front of the study, taking a deep breath. Even through its soundproofed doors, they could hear the faint echoes of Lao Nie’s voice, bellowing out demands and threats, calling for Nie Mingjue, calling for Jiwei – my saber, my saber, where is my saber? – and Lan Qiren flinched briefly before recovering himself.

“Go,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened the door and let them both step in.

Lao Nie was standing by the window, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles bloody from having beaten his fists against the walls in his rage. His back was straight and his shoulders broad, as always, but there was a strange purposelessness to the way his head turned from side to side as if he were trying to hear something just out of range.

He turned to look at them. His hair wasn’t arranged properly, oily as if he hadn’t washed it for a while; his eyes were red and bloodshot, his skin flushed and ruddy, raised veins on his forehead, making him look as if he were on the verge of exploding.

“What do you want?” he spat.

“You called for me, A-die,” Nie Mingjue said, taking a step into the room and then another as Lan Qiren watched. “It’s me – it’s me, it’s Mingjue. A-Jue, I’m A-Jue –”

Lan Qiren never saw Lao Nie move.

One moment he was all the way across the room, the next moment he was standing right in front of Nie Mingjue. There was the resounding echo of a slap: Lao Nie had backhanded Nie Mingjue, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, his reddened eyes blank and unseeing. “If you’re my A-Jue, why haven’t you done what I asked, like a filial son should? Bring me my saber! Bring me my Jiwei!”

“A-die – please – she’s gone, Jiwei is gone –”

Lao Nie raised his hand again, clearly ready to strike again, already pulling his leg back to kick at the young man cowering at his feet, a red mark already staining Nie Mingjue’s cheek where the heavy blow from before had fallen – Lan Qiren hadn’t been in the Unclean Realm for enough time to burn a stick of incense, hadn’t even had a chance to say anything, and things had already gotten to this point.

Wait, the doctors had said to Nie Mingjue when he’d asked them what could be done about his father’s illness. Wait. How terrible would Nie Mingjue’s life have become if he had listened to them?

“Lao Nie,” he said, stepping into the room and already reaching for his guqin. “Don’t hit him.”

Lao Nie turned to him, a heavy scowl on his face, and Lan Qiren braced himself for that same speed, that same casual viciousness that Lao Nie had before used only on his real enemies.

But unexpectedly - Lao Nie did not attack.

He didn’t move at all, in fact; he just stared at Lan Qiren, his frown fading into something like confusion.

“Jiwei?” he asked, a glimmer of recognition in his voice.

Lan Qiren’s hands were on his guqin strings, a spell at the ready, but he paused at Lao Nie’s words.

Very cautiously, he shifted the guqin to the side to free up one hand, which he lowered to the jade pendant that hung at his waist. “Yes,” he said encouragingly. “It’s Jiwei’s pendant. You remember? I made it for you, to drain off some of her anger. It’s yours. I brought it to you.”

Lao Nie took a stumbling step forward, and then another, his lost eyes brightening in happiness. Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and tolerated the pain of the fiercely burning pendant, taking it into his palm and holding it out to Lao Nie as an offering.

But it wasn’t the pendant that Lao Nie reached out for, but Lan Qiren himself.

His broad hands fell upon Lan Qiren’s shoulders, and then slid up to cradle his face, his thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones in an unfamiliar gesture that made Lan Qiren shiver despite himself.

“Jiwei,” Lao Nie said, sounding pleased. “Jiwei, where were you? I missed you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed. “Lao Nie…”

“You look so different,” Lao Nie said, undeterred by Lan Qiren’s barely-said protest – undeterred, in fact, by the fact that Lan Qiren was a human being, not a saber spirit.

His hands were warm against Lan Qiren’s face.

“Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said, very slowly, and after a moment Lao Nie responded, no longer surveying him with his eyes but meeting his gaze. “I am Lan Qiren, your friend.”

“My friend,” Lao Nie agreed, and smiled. It was his old familiar smile, confident and carefree. “Jiwei.”

“No, not Jiwei. Jiwei…Jiwei shattered, Lao Nie. Your saber shattered.”

“Yes,” Lao Nie said, very unexpectedly, and Nie Mingjue, who had gotten up and was cautiously creeping closer, looked at him with hope shining in his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

“You know your saber was shattered?” Lan Qiren said, testing, and Lao Nie nodded. “Do you know why?”

Lao Nie tilted his head to the side.

“It was Wen Ruohan,” Nie Mingjue said. “I think – when he patted it? He did something, I’m sure of it.”

Lao Nie considered this statement, his eyes half-lidded in thought; he looked for a moment very much like he had before, putting aside the state of his hair and clothing. “I think you’re right,” he said after a while. “A-Han was very angry at me, at the start, and then at the end he was still angry, but also pleased with himself in that way that he gets. You know what I mean: when he’s done something vile, something everyone would condemn him for, and he knows no one will be able to do anything about it – the way he’s both pleased with the demonstration of his power and disgusted in himself, and he has to bury the latter in the former to make himself feel better.”

You know what he’s like, why do you like him? Lan Qiren thought to himself but did not say, but Nie Mingjue wasn’t so tactful and asked the same thing, virtually verbatim, outright.

“Grown-ups are complicated, A-Jue,” Lao Nie told him, and Nie Mingjue’s knees gave out at once. He tumbled down to the floor once again, landing on his ass with a thud, and stared up at his father with tears already spilling down his cheeks.

“A-die?” he whispered. “A-die, you know me?”

Lao Nie frowned, not understanding his son’s reaction, and pulled away to turn to look at him – but the moment his hands left Lan Qiren’s skin, the look in his eyes changed, the clarity disappearing and the rage returning. His brow furrowed in confusion and offense, and Lan Qiren thought about how it must appear to him: his beloved son was there only a moment ago, and then he turned and there was a stranger there instead, taking his place. It was no wonder that Lao Nie lashed out so fiercely, no wonder that his anger burned hottest against those he loved the most.

Lan Qiren stepped forward and put his own hand on Lao Nie’s shoulder, and when that didn’t seem to help, his face, instinctively following his teacher’s habits and grabbing him by the ear like a disobedient student in need of some shaking.

“Lao Nie, calm yourself,” he ordered, ignoring the lack of calm in his own heart.

Amazingly, miraculously, Lao Nie did. The red even started to fade a little out of his eyes – they were still bloodshot, still covered in a thin red film, but he no longer looked as though he were on the verge of crying blood. The ruddiness in his face faded as well, the blood summoned up by his rage starting to recirculate throughout his body as it should, and hopefully no longer on the verge of giving him an aneurysm.

Progress, Lan Qiren thought.

“What’s going on?” Lao Nie asked, alert and aware, if confused. “Why is my study such a mess? A-Jue, why are you crying? What happened to you – A-Jue, look at you, you look terrible! Who hurt you? Who dared touch you?”

Nie Mingjue was crying too hard to speak now, shaking his head, refusing to speak.

“You tell me, then,” Lao Nie said, turning his face, belligerent again but so much more normally so, to look at Lan Qiren. “Tell me what happened!”

“It’s complicated,” Lan Qiren temporized, although he stepped forward to press his entire palm against Lao Nie’s cheek, eventually sliding it down to rest at the back of his neck instead, the still too-hot pendant trapped between his palm and Lao Nie’s flesh. He didn’t dare break the contact again, not after last time. “It will take time to explain…”

“I didn’t ask for excuses,” Lao Nie said, exasperated, impatient as always, and the sheer familiarity and nostalgia stuck in Lan Qiren’s throat, choking him. “I asked for an answer, Jiwei, and I expect one.”

The pleasant feeling froze at once, like having swallowed something the wrong way and getting it caught halfway down, stuck in his chest like a weight pressing down.

Not progress.

Or, rather – a very specific type of progress, in which Lao Nie was no longer on imminent verge of death from further qi deviations, in which he was no longer raving mad, rabid and attacking all those around him, but in which he also, apparently, believed that Lan Qiren was…his saber.

This was problematic for any number of reasons.

The first, of course, being that Lan Qiren was not, in fact, Jiwei. He was human, not a saber spirit; he was made of flesh, not metal. He wasn’t even the same gender, insofar as sabers considered themselves to have gender – both Lao Nie and Nie Mingjue affirmatively described their sabers using feminine terms, but quibbled whenever Lan Qiren attempted to describe them as women, claiming that their sabers were sabers, not humans, and therefore difficult to fit into the usual categorization.

At any rate, Lao Nie, at least, did not appear to be noticing any discrepancy.

However, that led them to the second major problem, which was that Lan Qiren and Lao Nie did not have the same relationship between them as Lao Nie had with his saber. The former were friends, however close; the latter were literally intertwined at the level of the soul, human master and spiritual weapon, co-dependent on each other in ways words could not even begin to describe. Even now, only standing next to each other, Lan Qiren could feel Lao Nie’s spiritual energy knocking against his palm, trying to enter his body to begin cultivating with him –

His ears suddenly felt like they were burning red.

What was perfectly appropriate, normal and even expected, between a cultivator and his spiritual weapon was not appropriate between two people, except perhaps dao companions who had agreed to share their lives and bodies with each other. It was entirely reasonable for Lao Nie to initiate such intimate contact – that was how spiritual weapons worked, through the cultivation of a blade or instrument through shared qi – and yet at the same time, because Lan Qiren was most definitely not a weapon, it became an offer for dual cultivation instead.

Right in front of Nie Mingjue.

Lan Qiren very firmly rejected the offer and Lao Nie laughed a little under his breath, an indulgent sound, and casually reached over to wrap his hand around Lan Qiren’s waist, pulling him closer – as if he thought Lan Qiren were merely playing hard-to-get, being prickly and inexplicitly unreasonable. As if a little bit of coaxing would be enough to get him to let down his guard, open up and let him in –

Lan Qiren coughed, abruptly very glad that he had not allowed either of his nephews to join in this trip. Or Nie Huaisang, for that matter, who despite his young age already had an over-active interest in other people���s personal lives.

That, he supposed, led them to the third problem: Lan Qiren was not nearly as easily mobile as a saber, could not be carried at Lao Nie’s belt nor kept with him at all times, and yet ceasing physical contact was clearly a bad idea. Perhaps once he had had some time to calm down…?

Nie Mingjue was looking between them with some concern as well. “A-die,” he said. “That’s Teacher Lan. Do you remember Teacher Lan?”

“Of course,” Lao Nie said, reaching out idly with his free hand as if to swat Nie Mingjue lightly on the head, an affectionate gesture that he forestalled immediately when he remembered that his son was injured. “What nonsense are you talking about? I’ve known Qiren since before I met your mother.”

“Good. That’s…good. I’m glad you remember him. You were sick for a little while, A-die; it made you confused.” Nie Mingjue paused briefly. “Can you tell me who’s that standing next to you?”

Lao Nie frowned at him. “Are you sure you’re not the one confused, A-Jue? Are you telling me you don’t recognize Jiwei?”

Nie Mingjue looked helplessly at Lan Qiren, who looked just as helplessly back.

He had absolutely no idea what to do about this – no notion of what the next step would be.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the decision was taken out of his hands when Lao Nie looked down at himself and, with an abrupt scowl, appeared to realize the state of himself. “What a mess,” he said, disgusted. “A-Jue, have someone run me a bath. I’ll wash and head to bed for the night, but I want an answer from you as to what happened first thing tomorrow morning, do you understand me?”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes went very wide and traveled very slowly over to rest on Lan Qiren, who set aside his guqin and used that hand, once free, to pinch the bridge of his nose and try to summon patience, careful not to disturb the hand that still rested on the back of Lao Nie’s neck, the pendant still burning in his palm.

“It’s fine,” he said shortly. It was not fine, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do at the moment except continue to indulge Lao Nie’s delusion – his state was so much improved from what it was just a little while before that he couldn’t bear to even try anything that would return him to it at the moment, and he could tell from Nie Mingjue’s constant glances to his hand that he felt the same. “We’ve been night-hunting together before.”

They’d bathed together before – mostly in rivers and lakes and hot springs, not bathtubs – and they’d slept in the same bed before, when that was the only thing that was available at the local inn.

This was nothing more than that.

It’d be fine.

Nie Mingjue did not look convinced, looked in fact on the verge of protesting, but Lao Nie was already looking at him with a growing scowl – he disliked being disobeyed, even though he tolerated it more from Nie Mingjue than from others – and he had no choice but to run off to do his father’s bidding.

The second he was out of the room, Lao Nie reached over and caught Lan Qiren’s free hand, bringing it up to his face, pressing his lips against Lan Qiren’s palm.

“Jiwei, have I displeased you in some manner?” he asked, very earnestly, as Lan Qiren stared at him. “Tell me what’s the matter, darling.”

[petrichormeraki]

If you don't mind then 10 kiss prompt with fwt? 👉👈 Pls

10. “Happy you’re alive” kisses

*SCREAMS* G O D I LOVE THIS SHIT HELL YES 

-

This was supposed to be the best day of Dream’s life, the day he would marry his true love, despite the war and conflict that their respective sides had endured. It was the SMP vs L’manburg, and yet even with both sides so vehemently refusing to back down, Dream found love in the son of his enemy. 

Today was supposed to be their wedding. Even if it wouldn’t change the war back home, even if Fundy and Dream would find themselves on the opposite sides of the battlefield, today was supposed to be perfect. There even was a truce, upheld under threat of permanent death; there would be no fighting here. Only love. 

Dream exited the spawn portal, immediately greeted by his future husband, dressed to the nines in a three piece suit and grinning so wide his face looked about to split in half. He rocked on the balls of his feet as Dream gawked at the world, completely outfitted to represent Treasure Planet, the movie they watched on the night Fundy proposed. 

“Before we do anything, I want you to put this on.” Fundy said shyly, producing folds of shimmering white fabric from his inventory. Dream uttered a surprised laugh as he unfolded the cloth to reveal a beautiful wedding dress, studded with white diamonds and rhinestones. 

“WHAT? You got me a dress? Oh, and a flower--” Dream stuttered as Fundy held out a bouquet of yellow daffodils to his fiance. “This--this is amazing!” Dream carefully pulled the dress over his head, doing a little spin to dazzle Fundy as the gemstones glittered in the setting sun. “Did you--Did you get this just for me?” 

“I bought the dress! It was so expensive!” Fundy affirmed, beaming as Dream turned away from him so he could help him with the veil. “I don’t want to say I’m in debt, but, uh--” 

Dream snorted as Fundy pulled away, nodding in satisfaction as the veil seemed to hold steady. Fundy then formally held out his elbow to his fiance, who looped his arm in with his without prompt. “Alright, follow me, Dream, I’ve got a LOT to show you.” 

-

Fundy gave Dream a tour of everything he had prepared, most of which were as stunning as the portal Dream came through. (The one exception was the cobblestone crafting tables. Dream playfully punched his fiance in the arm as soon as he saw them, prompting Fundy to burst out in laughter and mischievous snickers.) 

The tour ended with Fundy revealing a button in the middle of a bridge looking out at the flying ship, which Fundy explained would shoot cannonballs at the island as it was pressed. Dream’s eyes lit up as soon as Fundy finished talking, and with that the guests were allowed to spawn in. 

Dream immediately pressed the button as soon as their communicators buzzed with the notification that people had begun to spawn, jumping back in shock as the cannons fired explosions worth several stacks of TNT at the island. “That’s not what I was expecting!!” Dream shouted breathlessly over the deafening sound as Fundy cracked up beside him, watching the guests jump out of their skin at the noise and carnage. “That is NOT what I was expecting!!” 

“...I’m gonna do it again, though.” Dream said after a second’s hesitation, slamming his fist on the button again. Fundy flinched as more explosions rocked the bridge, wheezing with laughter as he saw the guests scramble for safety. “Stop, stop!” Fundy laughed desperately, wiping a tear from his eye. “Stop, stop, stop--” 

Dream figured Fundy was joking, as his laughter prohibited him from speaking, so with an ecstatic grin on his face he punched the button again. 

The final explosions directly hit the bridge supports, and with a startled shout Dream and Fundy were thrown off the breaking structure straight into the void. 

Dream caught himself in midair, floating in place. He tried to refrain from using his godly abilities in front of his friends, but in moments like these they came out in a reflex. 

Dream’s relief was torn from him as he realized his fiance did not have the fail-safe he possessed, and was plummeting into the endless void with a choked scream of terror exploding from his lungs. 

Dream moved without thinking. He dropped into the void after Fundy, wind tearing against his body and making his eyes water. Still, he plummeted, reaching out his arms for his husband as the sky became darker and darker the longer they fell. 

The air got thinner and thinner, and right as Dream saw Fundy’s eyes flutter shut, his hand brushed his suit jacket sleeve. Dream gripped it as tight as he could, yanking upwards and praying that his clothes wouldn’t rip him away.

Dream pulled Fundy close and abruptly halted their decent, his balance thrown off by the sudden midair stop. Dream wasted no time in shooting back up to the floating islands, the air’s sudden shift from freezing to a comfortable warmth making his muscles ache. 

Dream landed on the bouncy castle, springing into the air a few times before his momentum slowed and allowed him to dismount. Ever so gently, he laid Fundy on the ground, his heart thudding so hard he was sure the entire server could hear it. 

Fundy’s eyes were closed, his head limply succumbing to gravity when Dream hesitantly tried to shake him. “Fundy-? F--Fundy, wake up--” 

Footsteps rapidly approached him, and Dream felt Sapnap’s calloused hands nervously flit about his shoulders as he stared at Fundy. His chest hadn’t moved since Dream laid him down.  

“Fundy?” Dream said, less as a question and more as a statement. He didn’t know who he was even directing it to. “Dream, h-” Sapnap said gently, breaking off to swallow thickly. “He’s....He fell in the void, man.” 

“I saved him,” Dream weakly argued, unable to tear his eyes away from Fundy’s still form. He heard Sapnap take a shaking breath, his friend’s hand squeezing his shoulder in a failed attempt to be reassuring. 

“He...He’s gone, Dream. He went too deep.” 

A strangled cry spilled out of Dream’s throat, his body going rigid at Sapnap’s words. “NO! NO! HE’S-” 

Dream struggled against Sapnap’s arms that had suddenly wrapped around him tight and attempted to drag him away. “NO!! LET ME GO!! SAPNAP!!” Dream sobbed, reeling his head back and slamming it into Sapnap’s face. His friend cried out and released him at once, clutching at his bleeding nose with watering eyes. 

Dream raced to Fundy’s body and hugged him close, reaching out his omnipotent senses for the life force that he begged the universe was still within reach. 

His mind entered the in between, between life and death and everything in the middle. It was a place where Dream had only been once before, in an attempt to test how far his abilities could reach. He had no motive then, other than curiosity, and that alone was not enough for even a god like him to push back against the forces of nature. 

But now, he had a cause. He would not accept death, not this time. 

Dream pooled all the love in his heart that he felt for Fundy, remembered the fox’s caring and compassionate nature and his unabashed love for Dream despite them being on the opposite sides of the wars. The god held on to his love for Fundy like a lifeline and cast it to the void of spirits, praying to anyone who could hear him that his hand would not return empty. 

He would not let Fundy die. He refused to believe this was the end. 

Dream’s consciousness brushed against the color of love, of familiarity, the pure feeling of his Fundy. He snatched at it with all of the force his mind could conjure, and then visualized snapping it away from the light in the far distance. 

Fundy’s body jerked violently in Dream’s arms, ripping his mind back to waking world. He opened his eyes to Fundy taking a heaving breath, shaking in his fiance’s arms. 

Fundy’s pupils were blown way out of proportion, fear and confusion and subtly growing recognition in his expression. “Wh--what--” Fundy whispered, the words cutting off with a breathy cough as he gasped for breath. “What--what happened? Dream?” 

A mix of a laugh and a sob bubbled in Dream’s throat as he made eye contact with Fundy, warm and breathing and alive in his arms. He faintly recalled moving, but then his lips were on Fundy’s and everything else faded away. 

It felt like a million years when they broke apart, breathless and in tears. Dream held Fundy’s face and bit down another sob of relief as he traced every detail of his fiance like he would never see him again. 

“You’re alive,” He said, tears spilling down his face. Fundy’s cheeks had flushed a deep pink at Dream’s sudden display of affection, seeming to steadily become aware of the crowd of guests that had gathered while he and Dream were in limbo. 

“I shouldn’t have seen you.” Fundy said hazily, blinking rapidly. A flash of confusion crossed Dream’s mind. “What?”

“It--it’s bad luck, huh.” Fundy explained with the slightest hint of a playful grin on his face. “T--to see the bride before the wedding.” 

A shocked laugh burst from Dream’s chest and he kissed Fundy once more to wipe that dumb look off his face. 

“Stupid.” Dream said, his voice welling with love when they parted. “You’re so stupid.” 

[awkward-tension-art]

Put on a Show

So @weebsinstash has an incredible yandere!erasermic x reader series go read everything they write, its fantastic

I wanted to play around with the idea too, so i asked for permission on anon lol.

enjoy this full 2,090 words

Warning: yandere themes, yandere!erasermic, League of Villains, fear, mentions of past torture, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, implied  Spinner x Reader, kissing, Villain origin story, female pronouns used for reader, (if i missed a tag lmk)

You ran. You ran as fast and as far as you could. Your bare feet hit the wet ground, cursing as you stumbled. Your hands hit the mud, but you didn’t stop.

Even when your lungs screamed.

Even when your muscles burned.

You kept going.

With luck, a razor and your own wits you had managed to escape that hell house. You’d managed to escape from the clutches of your obsessed demons. 

At the slight thought of your tormentors, the now healed break in your leg aches all over again. 

Keep going.

Keep going.

KEEP GOING.

The woods betrayed you before, but hopefully, the downpour may erase your footprints. A branch latched onto your shoulder and you screeched. Memories of Aizawa’s cruel grasp flooded your mind. You slipped on the wet ground, tumbling down a slight incline. 

Dazed, confused and hurt, you ignored your pain and kept going. Desperation and adrenaline kept you going.

Do not stop.

Do not stop.

You looked down to avoid losing your eyes to another branch, only to embarrassingly run straight into a tree. Your body fell back, landing harshly on the mud.

You heard a groan.

Trees do not groan.

Fear overran your systems as you slowly, shakily looked up.

In front of you was a man covered in green scales. He looked more like a lizard, than an actual human, but you quickly guessed that was his quirk. But, he wasn’t alone.

A scarred man with piercings. A teenage girl with blond hair. Another man with a mask. And lastly…

You recognized him from the news.

Shigaraki.

The League Of Villains

“What the hell,” The lizard-man hissed, rubbing his head, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

You took your chances.

“Please…” you gasped, looking up at the white haired leader, “Help me.”

It took approximately 3 seconds to be taken from the forest. The scarred man, Dabi you learned, pulled out his phone and called Kurogiri, their method of transport. 

Spinner, surprisingly like a gentleman, helped you stand and introduced himself. 

Not a second later your vision was filled with black and you were out of the rain.

Out of the cold.

Out of the monsters’ clutches.

Instead, you found yourself in a surprisingly comfortable bar scene. It was warm, bright, and quite homey.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you, his red eyes giving away nothing. The blonde however, hovered, as she began to talk. You couldn’t keep up, exhaustion slowing your mind and mental process. All you managed to register is ‘blood’.

A tall woman spoke up first, “oh dear, look at you. You look like a wet rat.” She inspected you before standing straight, “Let me get you something dry.You can call my Big Sis Magne!”

You nodded, managing a small “thank you,” as she rushed out of the room to come back with a dry towel, draping it over you.

‘Huh, it smells nice,’ you thought, wrapping it around your shoulders, taking in the small comfort. Almost like roses and lavender…

The leader finally spoke up, “Who are you?”

That was the question. That one simple question caused the dam to burst. You broke down, telling them everything. The torture, the abuse, the agony, all by the hands of two supposed heroes. You went over every grueling, painful detail, tears pouring down your face. 

They knew of your captors and torture before they even knew your name.

With every word, The league members, especially Dabi, became more and more disgusted and angry. You didn’t even finish when Spinner offered a kind hand for you to hold onto. 

“P-please,” you finally managed, “D-don’t send me back…”

Shigaraki scoffed, “Heroes think they can just do whatever they want huh? Well fuck ‘em. Eraserhead and Present Mic want their precious treasure back? Well too bad. It’s ours now.”

Big Sis Magne let out a happy laugh, “Oh good! Another girl! If you ask me, only having Toga around was getting to be too much.” She took your other free hand, “We’re gonna be such a good team, those nasty heroes won’t know what hit them.”

“I can’t wait to make them pay with their blood,” Toga smiled, her golden eyes shining with excitement. Dabi remained silent, but Spinner gave you a kind smile. “What a show it will be! You, coming face to face with those demons, and having us at your back!” The one with the mask, Mr.Compress, finally spoke, giving a theatrical hand wave.

With every word, you felt your shoulders get lighter. 

“Now,” The leader, your new leader, spoke up, “Tell me all about your quirk, and those pieces of garbage that hurt you.”

When Shouta and Hizashi returned home, they knew something was wrong. The house seemed...cold. You were not in the living room, nor the kitchen. 

They assumed this was one of your bad days. Where you’d sleep until it was late at night, only so you can avoid them.

Quickly, that changed. 

The closer Shouta got to your door, the more he felt his gut twist. The air seemed wet and almost humid.

“Hey, are you awake in there?” He knocked, concerned, “I’m coming in!” 

When he opened the door, the wet air made sense. Your window was open, rain poured in from the storm outside. The carpet and everything else by the window was soaked, giving the hero a clue that you’ve been gone a while. 

“HIZASHI!” The black haired male called out, darting into the room. Desperately he looked around, only to look up when he heard his husband cry out. 

“She’s gone! Our songbird is gone!!” He panicked, aiding Shouta in his desperate search. The couple tore apart the house, hoping this was something else. Hoping you didn’t leave through the window. 

They hoped and prayed, only for their optimism to be dashed when their search turned up empty. 

“We need to go after her!” The blonde hero cried, “s-she could be hurt! She doesn’t know how to take care of herself!!” 

Shouta was already preparing to venture outside. He was at the door when he turned to look at his severely distressed husband, “stay here. In case she comes back, I’ll go look for her.” 

With that, Eraserhead ran out of the front door of the house, hoping to find you in the woods. 

Days became weeks became months. With every passing hour, you felt happier and lighter. Your spirit and soul were healing. It will take time, but you knew you were able to recover. You had escaped, and found a family who would ride or die with you. 

You’d ride or die with them. 

Spinner was especially kind to you. He was a gentleman, always asking before touching. You spent most of your free time with him when he or you weren’t gone collecting information or searching for members. 

You still weren't comfortable going on missions by yourself. Most of the them were with Dabi, Big Sis Magne or Jin, who you’d met shortly after your joining. Despite the short time with them, you felt like you belonged. You helped them, they helped you. You became a part of their family. 

They’d even gone so far as to get your cat Mochi back. Dabi simply dumped the kitty on your lap and walked away without saying anything. You missed your feline friend, and now in the league, he gets all the love the villains could muster. 

They try to keep sudden loud noises to a minimum. Occasionally a surprise yell or sound would happen, but someone was always quick to jump to your defense. 

It was mostly Shigaraki, but he’d apologize begrudgingly.

Even he wasn’t so bad. You had gone with Toga to get him a new controller, and he’s tolerated you ever since (maybe even respect you after you managed to beat him to a quick video game match). 

This was your life. This was your freedom. 

This was what you wanted. 

It’s been hell without you. Shouta and Hizashi were in hell. It’s been months since the eraser hero found your footprints surrounded by others. It’s been months of searching. Months of desperation to rescue you from your kidnappers. That’s the only logical reason for your disappearance. 

You were kidnapped. 

You needed them. You needed your lovers. 

But they couldn’t save you. 

Some nights Shouta would wake up alone. He’d be cold and lonely. Slowly he’d walk to your room, and find his blonde husband asleep, holding your favorite pillow. 

It stopped smelling like you a while ago. 

With every passing day their hope waned. With every passing hour their hearts ached. 

Shouta finally broke down one night. When he woke up alone again he wandered to your room, finding Hizashi in his usual position. Instead of being asleep, the blonde’s shoulders shook with muffled sobs and cries. 

The Eraser hero sat on the bed and held his husband, not bothering to muffle his own weeping. 

This isn’t what they wanted. 

The view from the roof was both beautiful and hilarious. You orchestrated a nomu attack, remaining hidden. Spinner was accompanying you. The others were scattered around the city, taking in the chaos. 

You remembered those roads and streets. You walked them for so long. 

Until those bastards stole you. 

Now, with your life in the league, you could stroll down the sidewalk again. You could see the sky and feel the sun. 

You could punish heroes for abandoning you. For letting you get kidnapped. 

A smile graced your lips. The chaos of the nomu was beautiful. 

There was a flash of black in the corner of your eye, and you turned your head. Slowly, your smile grew at the sight of Eraserhead struggling to take down the brutish monster. 

Only to have your smile fade when Present Mic saves him. 

“Ugh, I hate them.” You growled, “I see them and I hate them.” 

Spinner looked up from his spot on the roof. He swished his tail once before following your gaze to your distant tormentors.  

“You should put on a show,” he put a hand on your shoulder, “drive ‘em even more bat shit.”

You laughed warmly, the idea of breaking their hearts even more gave you infinite joy. 

“Mind if I use you?” You asked, preparing to use your quirk. 

With the villains you have gotten stronger. Your quirk was a weapon. A strong, powerful, useful weapon. 

You’re the opposite of what Shouta and Hizashi said over and over again. 

They can’t tell you that you're weak. Not anymore. 

There was a tipped over bus, and that’s where you planted the illusion. 

You and Spinner, hand in hand. 

Oh this is gonna be good. 

When they dealt with the Nomu, Hizashi looked to the bus, and even from a distance, you could see his eyes widen. 

“S-songbird!” 

You gagged, and Spinner laughed softly beside you.

Shouta looked up, meeting the illusions gaze. 

You feared he’d use his quirk, destroying your fun, but he didn’t, at least not in that instant. 

“G-get away from her!” The black haired male shouted, his black eyes trained on fake-spinner. 

“No,” the illusion spoke, “I think your precious songbird belongs to me.”

The illusion of spinner pulled illusion you closer. The illusion of you looking bashful.

Shouta prepared an attack, jumping up in the air to do so. Hizashi prepared his own quirk, apparently ok with sacrificing your well-being to get you. 

You cause fake-spinner to dip fake-you into a deep kiss. 

That was apparently distracting enough to cause Present Mic to choke on air, and Eraserhead to stumble and miss his attack. 

“Come on my sweet,” fake-you cooed, “let’s go.” 

You created one more illusion, covering the two fakes in smoke, making them disappear. 

As you finished with your quirk, you rubbed your temples. 

Spinner laughed beside you, “m-my sweet! Oh my god you killed me.” 

You gave a faint smile, that only grew when you heard Hizashi’s mournful howling. 

Spinner and you peered over the edge of the roof, and spotted the two of them breaking down. The blonde was wailing. You swear you saw his fat tears from your position. 

Shouta just looked broken. He looked absolutely devastated.

Maybe a long time ago that sight would have hurt you. 

You made eye contact with your partner next to you. 

“My sweet,” you teased, promptly bursting into laughter.

“Let’s go! Before they hear us!” Spinner tried to shush you, failing with his own giggling. 

You nodded and grabbed his hand. 

“Let’s go then,” you winked, “my sweet.”

The both of you fled, making your way to Jin and Toga. 

You smiled at the sight of them, only feeling happier as more of your family of villains got together. 

This is exactly where you wanted to be. 

A villain, to make those heroes suffer.

[bogkeep]

hmmmmmmmmmm maybe i’ll write an Introspective Musing Post about my relationship to religion and their depiction in stories because i’ve pondering about this topic lately

so for those who are reading this and DON’T know what’s been going on...  there’s this webcomic i fell in love with some years ago, about six years actually, that depicts a post-apocalyptic fantasy/horror adventure set in the nordic countries. it had, and has still, some very uncomfortable flaws regarding racial representation, and the creator has historically not dealt very well with criticism towards it. it’s a whole Thing. my relationship with this comic has fluctuated a lot, since there are a lot of elements in it i DO love and i still feel very nostalgic about, and like idk i felt like i trust my skills in critical thinking enough to keep reading. aaand then the creator went a teensy bit off the deep end created a whole minicomic which is like... a lukewarm social media dystopia where christians are oppressed (and also everyone is a cute bunny, including our lord and saviour jesus christ). which is already tonedeaf enough considering there are religious people who DO get prosecuted for their faith, like, that’s an actual reality for a lot of people - but as far as i can tell, usually not christians. and then there’s an afterword that’s like, “anyway i got recently converted and realized i’m a disgusting human being full of sin who doesn’t deserve redemption but jesus loves me so i’ll be fine!! remember to repent for your sins xoxo” and a bunch of other stuff and IT’S KIND OF REALLY CONCERNING i have, uh, been habitually looking at the reactions to and discussions around this, maybe it’s not very self care of me but there’s a lot of overwhelming things rn and it’s fantastically distracting, yknow? like, overall this situation is fairly reminiscent of the whole jkr thing. creator of a series that is Fairly Beloved, does something hurtful, handles backlash in a weird way, a lot of people start taking distance from Beloved Series or find ways to enjoy it on their own terms, creator later reveals to have been fully radicalized and releases a whole manifesto, and any and all criticism gets framed as harassment and proving them right. of course, one of them is a super rich person with a LOT of media power and a topic that is a lot more destructive in our current zeitgeist, and the other is an independent webcomic creator, so it’s  not the same situation. just similar vibez ya feel as a result of this, i have been Thinking. and just this feels like some sort of defeat like god dammit she got me i AM thinking about the topic she wrote about!!! i should dismiss the whole thing!!! but thinking about topics is probably a good thing so hey lets go. me, i’m agnostic. i understand that this is a ‘lazy’ position to take, but it’s what works for me. i simply do not vibe with organized religion, personally. (i had the wikipedia page for ‘chaos magic’ open in a tab for several weeks, if that helps.) i was raised by atheists in a majorly atheist culture. christian atheist, i should specify. norway has been mostly and historically lutheran, and religion has usually been a private and personal thing. it turns out the teacher i had in 7th grade was mormon, but i ONLY found out because he showed up in a tv series discussing religious groups in norway later, and he was honestly one of the best teachers i have ever had - he reignited the whole class’ interest in science, math, and dungeons and dragons. it was a real “wait WHAT” moment for my teenage self. i think i was briefly converted to christianity by my friend when i was like 7, who grew up in a christian family (i visited them a couple times and always forgot they do prayers before dinner. oops!), but like, she ALSO made me believe she was the guardian of a secret magic orb that controls the entire world and if i told anybody the world would burn down in 3 seconds. i only suspected something was off when one day the Orb ran on batteries, and another day the Orb had to be plugged in to charge. in my defense i really wanted to be part of a cool fantasy plot. i had no idea how to be a christian beyond “uuuuh believe in god i guess” so it just faded away on its own. when i met this friend several years later, she was no longer christian. i think every childhood friend of mine who grew up in a christian family, was no longer christian when they grew up. most notably my closest internet friend whose family was catholic - she had several siblings, and each of them took a wildly different path, from hippie treehugger to laveyan satanist or something in that area. (i joined them for a sermon in a church when they visited my town. my phone went off during it because i had forgotten to silence it. oops!) ((i also really liked their mother’s interpretation of purgatory. she explained it as a bath, not fire. i like that.)) i have never had any personal negative experiences with christianity, despite being openly queer/gay/trans. the only time someone has directly told me i’m going to hell was some guy who saw me wearing a hoodie on norway’s constitution day. yeah i still remember that you bastard i’ve sworn to be spiteful about it till the day i die!! i’ve actually had much more insufferable interactions with the obnoxious kind of atheists - like yes yes i agree with you on a lot but that doesn’t diminish your ability to be an absolute hypocrite, it turns out? i remember going to see the movie ‘noah’ with a friend who had recently discovered reddit atheism and it was just really exhausting to discuss it with her. one of these Obnoxious Atheists is my Own Mother. which is a little strange, honestly, because she LOVES visiting churches for the Aesthetic and Architecture. we cannot go anywhere without having to stop by a pretty church to Admire and Explore. I’VE BEEN IN SO MANY CHURCHES FOR AN ATHEIST RAISED NON-CHRISTIAN. i’ve been to the vatican TWICE (i genuinely don’t even know how much of my extended family is christian. up north in the tiny village i come from, i believe my uncle is the churchkeeper, and it’s the only building in the area that did not get burnt down by the the nazis during ww2 - mostly because soldiers needed a place to sleep. still don’t know whether or not said uncle believes or not, because hey, it’s Personal) i think my biggest personal relationship to religion, and christianity specifically, has been academic. yeah, we learned a brief synopsis of world religions at school (and i remember the class used to be called ‘christianity, religion, and ethics’ and got changed to ‘religion, beliefs, and ethics’ which is cool. it was probably a big discourse but i was a teen who didnt care), but also my bachelor degree is in art history, specifically western art history because it’s a vast sprawling topic and they had to distill it as best they could SIGHS. western art history is deeply entangled with the history of the church, and i think the most i’ve ever learnt about christianity is through these classes (one of my professors wrote an article about how jesus can be interpreted as queer which i Deeply Appreciate). i also specifically tried to diversify my academic input by picking classes such as ‘depiction of muslims and jewish people in western medieval art’ and ‘art and religion’ when i was an exchange student in canada, along with 101 classes in anthropology and archaeology. because i think human diversity and culture is very cool and i want to absorb that knowledge as best as i can. i think my exchange semester in canada was the most religiously diverse space have ever been in, to be honest. now as an adult i have more christian friends again, but friends who chose it for themselves, and who practice in ways that sound good and healthy, like a place of solace and community for them. the vast majority of my friends are queer too, yknow?? i’ve known too many people who have seen these identities as fated opposites, but they aren’t, they’re just parts of who people are. it’s like... i genuinely love people having their faiths and beliefs so much. i love people finding that space where they belong and feel safe in. i love people having communities and heritages and connections. i deeply respect and admire opening up that space for faith within any other communities, like... if i’m going to listen to a podcast about scepticism and cults, i am not going to listen to it if it’s just an excuse to bash religion. i think the search for truth needs to be compassionate, always. you can acknowledge that crystals are cool and make people happy AND that multi level marketing schemes are deeply harmful and prey on people in vulnerable situaitons. YOU KNOW???? so now’s when i bring up Apocalypse Comic again. one of the things i really did like about it was, ironically, how it handled religion. in its setting, people have returned to old gods, and their magic drew power from their religion. characters from different regions had different beliefs and sources. in the first arc, they meet the spirit of a lutheran pastor, who ends up helping them with her powers. it was treated as, in the creators own words, ‘just another mythology’. and honestly? i love that. it was one of the nicest depictions i’ve seen of christianity in fiction, and as something that could coexist with other faiths. I Vibe With That. and then, uh, then... bunny dystopia comic. it just... it just straight up tells you christianity is literally the only way to..?? be a good person??? i guess?? i’m still kind of struggling to parse what exactly it wanted to say. the evil social media overlord bird tells you the bible makes you a DANGEROUS FREETHINKER, but the comic also treats rewriting the bible or finding your own way to faith as something,, Bad. The Bible Must Remain Unsullied. Never Criticize The Bible. also, doing good things just for social media clout is bad and selfish. you should do good things so you don’t burn in hell instead. is that the message? it reads a lot like the comic creator already had the idea for the comic, but only got the urge to make it after she was converted and needed to spread the good word. you do you i guess!! i understand that she’s new to this and probably Going Through Something, and this is just a step on her journey. but the absolute self-loathing she described in her afterword... it does not sound good. i’m just some agnostic kid so what do i know, but i do not think that kind of self-flagellating is a kind faith to have for yourself. i might not ever have been properly religious, but you know what i AM familiar with? a brain wired for ocd and intrusive thoughts. for a lot of my life i’ve struggled with my own kind of purity complex. i’ve had this really strange sensitivity for things that felt ‘tainted’. i’ve experienced having to remove more and more words from my vocabulary because they were Bad and i did not want to sully my sentences. it stacked, too - if a word turned out to be an euphemism for something, i could never feel comfortable saying it again. i still struggle a bit with these things, but i have confronted these things within myself. i’ve had to make myself comfortable with imperfection and ‘tainted’ things and accept that these are just, arbitrary categories my mind made up. maybe that’s the reason i can’t do organized religion even if i found one that fit for me - just like diets can trigger disordered eating, i think it would carve some bad brainpaths for me. so yeah i’m worried i guess! i’m worried when people think it’s so good that she finally found the correct faith even if it’s causing all this self-hate. is there really not a better way? or are they just trusting she’ll find it? and yeah it’s none of my concern, it’s like, i worry for jkr too but i do not want her within miles of my trans self thANKS. so like, i DO enjoy media that explores faith and what it means for you. my favourite band is the oh hellos, which DOES draw on faith and the songwriter’s experience with it. because of my religious iliteracy most of it has flown over my head for years and i’m like “oh hey this is gay” and then only later realize it was about god all along Probably. i like what they’ve done with the place. also, stormlight archive - i had NO idea sanderson was mormon, the way he writes his characters, many of whom actively discuss religion and their relationship to it. i love that about the books, honestly. Media That Explores Religion In A Complex And Compassionate Way... we like that i’ve been thinking about my own stories too, and how i might want to explore faith in them. most of my settings are based on magic and it’s like, what role does religion have in a world where gods are real and makes u magic. in sparrow spellcaster’s story, xe creates? summons? an old god - brings them to life out of the idea of them. it’s a story about hubris, mostly. then there’s iphimery, the story where i am actively fleshing out a pantheon. there’s no doubt the gods are real in the fantasy version of iphimery, they are the source of magic and sustain themselves on slivers of humanity in exchange. but in the modern version, where they are mostly forgotten? that’s some room for me to explore, i think. especially the character of timian, who comes from a smaller town and moves to a large and diverse city. in the fantasy story, the guardian deity chooses his sister as a vessel. in the modern setting, that does not happen, and i don’t yet know what does, but i really want timian to be someone who struggles with his identity - his faith, his sexuality, the expectations cast upon him by his hometown... i’m sure it’s a cliché story retold through a million gay characters but i want to do it too okay. i want to see him carve out his own way of existing within the world because i care him and want to see him thrive!!! alrighty i THINK that’s all i wanted to write. thanks if you read all of this, and if you didn’t that’s super cool have a nice day !

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 19: Sand On My Feet Are The Worst

Imagine the largest concert crowd you've ever seen, a football field packed with a million fans. Now imagine a field a million times that big, packed with people, and imagine the electricity has gone out, and there is no noise, no light, no beach ball bouncing around over the crowd. Something tragic has happened backstage. Whispering masses of people are just milling around in the shadows, waiting for a concert that will never start.

If you can picture that, you have a pretty good idea what the Fields of Asphodel looked like. The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—Grover told me they were poplars—grew in clumps here and there.

The cavern ceiling was so high above us it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed faint gray and looked wickedly pointed. I tried not to imagine they'd fall on us at any moment, but dotted around the fields were several that had fallen and impaled themselves in the black grass. I guess the dead didn't have to worry about little hazards like being speared by stalactites the size of booster rockets. Annabeth, Grover, Percy, and I tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. I couldn't help looking for familiar faces among the spirits of Asphodel, but the dead are hard to look at. Their faces shimmer. They all look slightly angry or confused. They will come up to you and speak, but their voices sound like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realize you can't understand them, they frown and move away. The dead aren't scary. They're just sad.

Don't worry... Death isn't bad compared to life. We crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read: JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION Welcome, Newly Deceased! Out the back of the tent came two much smaller lines. To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance, a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, I could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music. I could just make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top. And I saw worse tortures, too—things I don't want to describe. The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history, Roman villas and medieval castles and Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. I could hear laughter and smell barbecue cooking. Elysium. In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium. Immediately I knew that's where I wanted to go when I died. If I die.

"I am so ready to die if that's where I'll go." "That's what it's all about," Annabeth said, "That's the place for heroes." But I thought of how few people there were in Elysium, how tiny it was compared to the Fields of Asphodel or even the Fields of Punishment. So few people did good in their lives. It was depressing. We left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Asphodel Fields. It got darker. The colors faded from our clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin. After a few miles of walking, we began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark bat like creatures: the Furies. I got the feeling they were waiting for us. "I suppose it's too late to turn back," Percy said wistfully. "We'll be okay." I smiled. "Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..." "Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm. Grover yelped. His sneakers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass. "Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around." "But I didn't—" He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away from us. "Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!" I got over being stunned and made a grab for Grover's hand, but too late. He was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled. We ran after him. Annabeth shouted, "Untie the shoes!" It was a smart idea, but I guess it's not so easy when your shoes are pulling you along feetfirst at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn't get close to the laces. We kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he ripped between the legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance. I was sure Grover was going to barrel straight through the gates of Hades's palace, but his shoes veered sharply to the right and dragged him in the opposite direction. The slope got steeper. Grover picked up speed. Annabeth, Percy and I had to sprint to keep up. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and I realized we'd entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above. "Grover!" Percy yelled, my voice echoing. "Hold on to something!" "What?" he yelled back. He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down. The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on my arms bristled. It smelled evil down here. It made me think of things I shouldn't even know about—blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, the foul breath of a murderer. Percy saw what was ahead of us, and he stopped dead in my tracks. The tunnel widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block. Grover was sliding straight toward the edge. "Come on, Percy!" I yelled, tugging at his wrist. "But that's—" "I know!" Annabeth shouted. "The place you described in your dream! But Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him." She was right, of course. Grover's predicament got me moving again. He was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the winged shoes kept dragging him toward the pit, and it didn't look like we could possibly get to him in time. What saved him were his hooves. The flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on him, and finally Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off. It sped into the darkness, down into the chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but not as fast. Grover was able to slow himself down by grabbing on to the big rock and using it like an anchor. He was ten feet from the edge of the pit when we caught him and hauled him back up the slope. The other winged shoe tugged itself off, circled around us angrily and kicked our heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its twin. We all collapsed, exhausted, on the obsidian gravel.

"Are you okay?" Grover was scratched up pretty bad. His hands were bleeding. His eyes had gone slit-pupiled, goat style, the way they did whenever he was terrified. "I don't know how..." he panted. "I didn't..." "Wait," I said. "Listen." I heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness. Another few seconds, and Annabeth said, "Y/N, this place—" "Shh." I stood. The sound was getting louder, a muttering, evil voice from far, far below us. Coming from the pit. Grover sat up. "Wh—what's that noise?" Annabeth heard it too, now. I could see it in her eyes. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus."

I turned to Percy, he uncapped Riptide. The bronze sword expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant. I could almost make out words now, ancient, ancient words, older even than Greek. As if... "Magic," I said. "We have to get out of here," Annabeth said. Annabeth and I dragged Grover to his hooves and started back up the tunnel. Percy was lagging behind us. The voice got louder and angrier behind us, and we broke into a run. Not a moment too soon. A cold blast of wind pulled at our backs, as if the entire pit were inhaling. For a terrifying moment, Percy lost ground, I luckily got a hold of him. If we'd been any closer to the edge, we would've been sucked in. We kept struggling forward, and finally reached the top of the tunnel, where the cavern widened out into the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died. A wail of outrage echoed from deep in the tunnel. Something was not happy we'd gotten away. "What was that?" Grover panted, when we'd collapsed in the relative safety of a black poplar grove. "One of Hades's pets?"

No... We all know what's down there. Annabeth and Percy looked at each other. I could tell they knew what's down there. Percy capped his sword, put the pen back in jis pocket. "Let's keep going."

I looked at Grover. "Can you walk?" He swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes, anyway." He tried to sound brave about it, but he was trembling as badly as Annabeth and I were. Whatever was in that pit was nobody's pet. It was unspeakably old and powerful. Even Echidna hadn't given me that feeling. I was almost relieved to turn my back on that tunnel and head toward the palace of Hades. Almost. The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open. Up close, I saw that the engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago. I wondered if I was looking at prophecies that had come true. Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden I'd ever seen. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of flowers, piles of rubies as big as my fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues— petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs—all smiling grotesquely. In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark. "The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking." I understood why she wanted to move on. The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. I had a sudden desire to eat them, but then I remembered the story of Persephone. One bite of Underworld food, and we would never be able to leave. I pulled Grover away to keep him from picking a big juicy one. We walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico, and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. I guess they never had to worry about rain down here. Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered us, but their hollow eye sockets followed us as we walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at us, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests. "You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen." "Well, guys," I said. "I suppose we should ... knock?" A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside. "I guess that means entrez-vous," Annabeth said.

A god we shall meet. But this one's different. The room inside looked just like in my dream, except this time the throne of Hades was occupied. He was the third god I'd met, but the first who really struck me as godlike. He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was albino white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and dangerous as a panther. I immediately felt like he should be giving the orders. He knew more than I did. He should be my master. Then I told myself to snap out of it. Hades's aura was affecting me, just as Ares's had. The Lord of the Dead resembled pictures I'd seen of Adolph Hitler, or Napoleon, or the terrorist leaders who direct suicide bombers. Hades had the same intense eyes, the same kind of mesmerizing, evil charisma. "You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

I fought the feeling to step forward.

Percy knew what to say, he had to be the one to talk... "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched of trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out. The ADHD part of me wondered, off-task, whether the rest of his clothes were made the same way. What horrible things would you have to do in your life to get woven into Hades's underwear? "Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet." I glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. I wished Queen Persephone were here. I recalled something in the myths about how she could calm her husband's moods. But it was summer. Of course, Persephone would be above in the world of light with her mother, the goddess of agriculture, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the planet, create the seasons. Annabeth cleared her throat. Her finger prodded Percy in the back. "Lord Hades," Percy said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be... bad." "Really bad," Grover added helpfully. "Return Zeus's master bolt to me," Percy said. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus." Hades's eyes grew dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?" Percy glanced back to us. "Um... Uncle," He said. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?" The throne room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits. Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war, godling?" "Well, these guys don't look like peace activists." I accidentally slipped.

The three of them looked at me in surprise. Hades glared at me.

"The unclaimed." He scoffed. "You are as foolish as every Gods had said."

I wanted to say more but Annabeth had grabbed me and forced me to bow.

"U-Uhm... Y-You are the Lord of the Dead," Percy said carefully. "A war would expand your kingdom, right?" "A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of the Asphodel Fields?" "Well..." "Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?" Hades was on a roll now. Go Hades. "More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!" "Charon wants a pay raise," I smirked. "Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. No, godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war." "But you took Zeus's master bolt." "Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan." "His plan?" "You were the thief on the winter solstice," he said. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus, You took the master bolt and my helm. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helm back!" "But...." Annabeth spoke. I could tell her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your helm of darkness is missing, too?" "Do not play innocent with me, girl. You and the satyr have been helping this hero—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?" "No!" Percy said. "Poseidon didn't—I didn't—" "I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you." "You didn't try to stop us? But—" "Return my helm now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson—your skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons ready.

At that point, I probably should have been terrified. The strange thing was, I felt offended. Nothing gets me angrier than being accused of something I didn't do. I've had a lot of experience with that. "You're as bad as Zeus and Poseidon," I said. "You think Percy stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after us?" "Of course," Hades said. "And the other monsters?" Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?" "Easily?" I scoffed. "You are the worse! My gods! I hate all of you!" I was gripping my hair laughing like a maniac.

Annabeth was about to grab me when I shrugged her and walked forward which alerted everyone.

"Wat---"

"Wait up, I let you go on a roll dead guy. My turn." I hissed staring at him right in the eye.

We are going to talk.

I had no idea why but no one moved, Hades looked at me curiously then to my friends who are either scared of Hades's upcoming wrath or mine.

"Do carry on."

"Listen here big guy." Pointing my finger at him, "You. Are. Mean. Are all gods stupid and mean?! I can't get close to water since I was a kid because there's an idiot who hates me! And here I am trying to help him get something! And he hadn't even bothered to keep his hate for me until this stupid quest is over!!" I panted.

"Y/---"

"Not yet goat boy!" I pointed at what ever was above us. "and that stuck up, up there who thinks he's all high and mighty? Does he have to cause a war?! Can't he just get down from his high throne none of this would happen if he wasn't all high and mighty when all he could do is take a child's parents because they cheated on sims!"

"I don---"

"And you Mr. Emo! You've had Mrs. Dodds on Percy! What made you think he's have your stupid helmet?! When did he get it? During his potty time?! Did his father Amazon that thing to him or something?! We. Don't. Have. Anything! Grover doesn't even have shoes!! What made you think we'd have the luxury of carrying the bolt and helm but not extra shoes for the goat?!"

"Y/N!" Percy yelled.

"What?!"

"If you're done with your point calm down... I don't think Lord Hades would be kind enough to entertain you anymore..." Annabeth whispered.

"I am almost done." I took a deep breath. And walked closer to actually be able to touch him, the three behind me caught their breath. "... My parents... are M/N and F/N L/N. I am Y/N L/N. I don't care which all mighty it is. I am not unclaimed. I will get them back. I will save them. And I will come back here and get on with you again if I have to just to save them. Because they're my parents, I have no other." I then gave him a smile which was a total turn of my emotions, "And kill me now if you will. Just know, I'll be here in your kingdom forever which ever part and I will be taking it as a compliment of how much you enjoy my company."

He was much larger than I was so all I could do there was shove whatever I could, then walked back to Percy.

They all looked at Hades, he was going to kill us. That was one thing everyone agreed on.

Nine. I chose that prophecy. You are aware of my prophecy. You are aware of who our parents are after all.

"Y/N L/N, daughter of L/N. It's foolish of you to talk to me like that. You best be careful of how you talk to Gods. Others won't hesitate killing you."

The other three were stunned. Looking between me and Hades. "Whoa, wait a minute. You won't kill me? Are you saying it was cool I talked to you like that? "

"I will not kill you." Hades emphasized on the word 'you' and looked at Percy, Grover and Annabeth. "And I may spare your friends, if you return what is mine." "We don't have it." Pointing at Percy, "Open your pack, then." A horrible feeling struck me.

Percy slung it off his shoulder and unzipped it. Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy. "Percy," Annabeth said. "How—" "I—I don't know. I don't understand." "You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now... my helm. Where is it?" I was speechless. I knew Percy had no helm. I had no idea how the master bolt had gotten into his backpack. I wanted to think Hades was pulling some kind of trick.

I realized we've been played with. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades had been set at each other's throats by someone else. The master bolt had been in the backpack, and I'd gotten the backpack from... "Hades bro, wait," I said. "This is all a mistake."

"Bro?" Percy looked at me. "A mistake?" Hades roared. The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of their master's throne. Mrs. Rudolph grinned at Percy eagerly and flicked her whip. "There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come—I know the real reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for her." Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of me, and there was Mrs. Jackson, frozen in a shower of gold, just as she was at the moment when the Minotaur began to squeeze her to death. I couldn't speak. Percy reached out to touch her, but the light was as hot as a bonfire. "Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change." "Ah, the pearls," Hades said, and my blood froze. I turned to see Percy with his hands in his pocket. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson." Percy brought out the pearls. "Only four," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms." Percy looked at Me, Annabeth and Grover. Their faces were grim. "We were tricked," Percy told them. "Set up." "Yes, but why?" Annabeth asked. "And the voice in the pit—" "I don't know yet," Percy said. "But I intend to ask." "Decide, boy!" Hades yelled. "Percy." Grover put his hand on his shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt," "I know that." "Leave me here," he said. "Use the third pearl on your mom."

"No!" "I'm a satyr," Grover said. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way." "No." Annabeth drew her bronze knife. "You two go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting." "No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind." "Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

"I'll stay. I low-key wanna be bros with Hades right now honestly. I also high-key don't want to meet the two sticks up there." "Stop it, I know what to do," Percy said. "Take these." He handed us each a pearl. Annabeth said, "But, Percy..." He turned and faced his mother. I desperately wanted to sacrifice myself and use the last pearl on her, but I knew what she wouldn’t like that. She would never allow it. We had to get the bolt back to Olympus and tell Zeus the truth. We had to stop the war. She would never forgive us if we saved her instead. I thought about the prophecy made at Half-Blood Hill, what seemed like a million years ago, the one Percy shared. 

You will fail to save what matters most in the end. "I'm sorry," He told her. "I'll be back. I'll find a way." The smug look on Hades's face faded. He said, "Godling... ?" "I'll find your helm, Uncle," Percy told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise." "Do not defy me—" "And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls." "Percy Jackson, you will not—" He shouted, "Now, guys!" We smashed the pearls at our feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened. Hades yelled, "Destroy them!" The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame. Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at their feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. They were encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.

"Y/N?" Percy looked at me in shock. Annabeth and Grover were right behind him.

At my feet were dry sand. My eyes widened.

"NO! Y/N!!"

Mrs. Rudolph pulled me close to her as spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles while they floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A. I could still see Percy and Annabeth trying to break the bubble. But sure enough, they were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop their bubbles like the two wanted. Then they vanished. I fell on my knees tears filling my eyes.

"D-Did Poseidon just leave me here in hopes you'll kill me...?" I managed to say. Tears were pilling up my eyes.

"Sweetie..." I heard Mrs. Rudolph say. She was back to her soft demeanor, the one she had back then.

"Does he hate me this much? After all I've done to help with this quest? Drowning me wasn't enough?" Tears were now flowing. "Taking my parents and torturing them wasn't enough?"

I curled up my knees and sobs escaped my mouth.

"Y/N..." I heard a familiar voice. I looked up to see Mrs. Jackson.

I gasped and turned to Hades who looked at me with a frown. "You are in luck, I don't wish to kill you. Converse with one another to comfort yourself, I will not provide you of such."

I weak laugh escaped from me, "So, you're a softie huh Hades?"

The ground cracked beneath me but I didn't fall. "Don't make me regret my choices child."

Mrs. Jackson smiled at Hades and gave me a hug. Then as if things couldn't get better, I heard a bark.

"D/N!!" At Hades's foot he sat, a skeleton was holding his leash. "You have him!! You are so my favorite."

Hades signaled the skeleton to free D/N who immediately ran to me.

Our parents had already decided on our parent.

"Yeah." Mrs. Jackson said.

"What?"

"Your parents will tell you who your god parent is." Mrs. Jackson said.

"Don't you guys know?"

"We do." Mrs. Jackson gave a look at Hades who rolled his eyes.

"Only Hades is the parent I want right now. But I don't like the idea of my mom and Hades together."

"I do not wish to have you as a child."

"Go away, I am the best daughter. You'd be honored to have me."

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[whattimeisitintokyo]

Somos Familia Ch 46: A Tale of Woe

Ch 46: A Tale of Woe

Pacing outside of the shack she just exited, Leti bit the end of her thumb and whined a little. This did not go according to what she had planned. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. How often had Nieve said how she wished she could see her son at least once to tell him that she was sorry, to let him hear her side of the story? She was supposed to cry in happiness and embrace Papa like she never got to in life, and he would return it in kind. A mother and son reunited after over fifty years.

It should have been a happy occasion. It shouldn’t have ended up with Nieve being furious at her and Papa looking like he was going to throw up.

“I made the right decision, sí?” she asked the two animals sitting outside with her. “I mean come on. This is the kind of situation that would make for a good story. Haven’t these two always wanted to meet each other?”

Dante yipped in what seemed to be approval of Leti’s question, while she could have sworn she saw Frangipanni’s eyes dart slightly to the side.

“What? You don’t think this was a good idea?”

Frangipani just looked at her with what Leti swore was a wince, and let out a puff of air from her trunk.

“Well why didn’t you tell me before?!” Leti moaned. “Some spirit guide you are…” Easily dodging Frangipani’s attempt to splash water at her, Leti fought to put a confident grin on her face. “Well no matter! It’s been over fifty years since she’s seen him, and no doubt Papa would have tons of questions for her. I’m sure they have loads to talk about!”

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

…..

…..

…..

“I like your jacket.”

Jumping slightly after the break of near dead silence, Héctor looked down at his jacket and picked at the purple sleeve. “Oh, gracias. It’s Balenciaga.”

“What’s that?”

“He’s a fashion designer. From… Spain…”

“Oh.”

…..

…..

This was excruciating. They both knew that this couldn’t go on forever, let alone for the next few minutes. Héctor was obviously running out of time, the slow disappearance of his skin a clear indicator. But for some reason Héctor couldn’t leave his seat. He just kept looking at this girl, trying to take in every curve of bone and every twitch of facial features. Trying to burn them into his memory. Several times he tried to say something, his throat constricting every time, until Nieve broke the silence once more.

“Look, we don’t have a lot of time.” she said. “And I know you must have questions.”

“Not really, no.”

His answer surprised them both, and Héctor knew that it was a big fat lie. Maybe it was because he was on a tight schedule and didn’t have time to ask her his many questions, or maybe he was too afraid to know the answers. But seeing her face crumple a little at what he said, and feeling a small bit of satisfaction at causing it, Héctor could conclude he was just being petty. Letting his long-buried feelings of hurt and anger from his childhood come back up, he wanted her to feel even a little bit of the pain he had felt.

“No?” Nieve asked in confusion.

“Fine then, just one.” Héctor relented. “Are you really my mother?”

“…Sí.”

It was confirmed. Héctor felt his belly drop and he sucked in a quick breath of air before pursing his lips and nodding. Okay, that was all he needed to know. He could just leave and never see this girl again.

Girl…

“How old were you when you had me?” Héctor asked. “You look so young.”

Nieve winced and lowered her eyes. “I was fourteen.”

Perfect, just perfect. He was the product of a teenage love affair. But his quick flash of disgust was quickly subdued when he remembered he was not that much older when he and Imelda had Coco. He had no right to be offended by that, especially since he assumed she was unwed at the time she had him.

Still, she seemed so young.

“And… how old were you when you died?” He had to ask, fearing the answer.

“Fourteen.”

Ay, Dios.

“Wh-what?” Héctor choked out, suddenly horror-stricken. “You mean? Are you saying that I-… That it’s my fault you-”

“No no!” Nieve reached out to touch him before stopping herself and drawing her hands back. Still she dared to venture a step closer to him. “No, I didn’t die in childbirth. It was hard on me, but all ten pounds of you made it out in the end.”

“Hah, good.” Héctor sighed in relief and sagged back onto the crate. “I was worried that-wait, ten pounds?!”

Nieve nodded and for the first time her bony lips turned upward into small grin. “You were a very fat baby. The nuns said that meant you were healthy.”

Laying a hand against his flat stomach, Héctor shook his head in disbelief. “Well I can assure you that the fatness didn’t last long.”

Nieve’s smile faded, sorrow finding its way back. “Yes, I’m sure there were many nights where you went hungry. Didn’t you?”

There were. More than Héctor would have liked to admit. The nuns were kind and Padre Mateo did all he could to make sure that the children under his care were well looked after, but Santa Cecilia used to be a poor town and food was lean then. Many a night Héctor found himself curled into a ball with a fist driving itself into his cramping stomach, trying not to cry through his hunger pangs. Even now it was difficult for him to gain weight, no matter how much food was available to him. It had made a lasting effect on him.

As Héctor stayed silent Nieve studied him some more and hummed in approval. “You look like me.”

“I do?”

Nieve nodded. “Of course my facial features look better on you as a man, not so much on a young girl. I always felt I was too homely to turn the boys’ heads… until I met your father.”

“…What?”

“You look nothing like him, by the way. Well, you have his height and a full head of thick hair. All the men in my family were short and bald.”

“Wait, you… know who my father was?” Héctor asked, not sure how many more surprises he could handle tonight.

This time it was Nieve’s turn to look a little angry, crossing her arms across her chest and tsking. “Really now, I’m not some common street walker. There was one man in my life and one only.”

Héctor mumbled out an awkward apology and had the decency to look ashamed of his unintentional rudeness. Looking around he had to ask. “… Is my father… dead as well? I mean, is he here?”

With a disgusted shake of her head and a sneer, she said, “No, that cabrón is still alive. Only the good die young, they say. He should be about… sixty-seven right now.”

“I see… So he was young too.” Héctor concluded after doing the math in his head, relieved that his father wasn’t some viejo who had taken advantage of a young girl.

There was a pause, Nieve processing what Héctor had just said, her face thawing into something more wistful but still hurt. “Sí… He was sixteen, considered a man by society but… Dom was still in his boyhood in so many ways. He was so regal and charming, but he was also silly. I can’t count the number of times he made me laugh with his antics. And so handsome, he could have any girl he could have wanted. I still don’t know why he chose me.”

Héctor found himself listening intently as Nieve described the beginnings of his parents relationship, hungry for the information. It was only natural, being an orphan, that he would want some inkling of what his family was like.

“He didn’t live where I did in Guerrero, he was sent to stay with his tío to learn more about the silver mine business and was set to leave for home in the summer. I met him at a New Year’s Eve party at his tío’s mansion where my parents had sent me to work at as a waitress. I don’t know why he came over to talk to me, but we really hit it off. He didn’t seem to care that I was a poor, he just liked me for who I was. And eventually… we fell in love.”

“We spent an incredible two months together until the wait staff found us one day mid kiss, and of course they informed his tío about us. Needless to say his visit was cut short and he was sent back to Santa Cecilia while I went back to my parents in shame. It was during that time while I was dealing with losing the love of my life and my parents’ coldness and harsh punishments… that I realized that I was pregnant.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Héctor didn’t know how to feel about that. He sensed that this was where the story was about to take a dark turn, and that he was the catalyst.

“My parents kicked me out, naturally. My brothers and my sister wanted nothing to do with me, neither did my extended family. I was alone in the world, but there was one shining light at the end of the tunnel: To head to Santa Cecilia to be with your father.”

“It took months to earn enough money to cross the state line to get to Oaxaca, and even more to get to Santa Cecilia. By then you had grown so much, so it was that much harder to make the distance. But in the end I did it! I made it to Santa Cecilia, found out where Dom lived, and walked straight to his house. I was so happy to see him, and he… just…”

Héctor watched as Nieve let the sentence die off, almost looking choked up and about to cry. But there was also simmering anger in her expression as well. He could easily guess what happened way back when, and if she couldn’t say it out loud then he would for her. “He rejected you.”

“…He did…”

“But I don’t understand?” Héctor said. “I thought you said he loved you. Why would he-?”

“’Because I am the son of a family descended from the richest houses in Europe, and you are a filthy peasant that came from savages and slaves.’” Nieve spat acidly, like the words had been burned into her mind and left to rot for decades. “He called me a whore, told me to never come to his house again, and slammed the door on me. Oh, after asking his servants to gently escort me off the grounds. My arms were bruised for weeks.”

Héctor grit his teeth. “Bastardo… What happened then?”

“I was alone in a town I was a stranger in, but luckily the nuns took me in and helped me get settled in the church. At least until you were born I had a roof over my head.”

Héctor nodded with a small smile. The nuns at his church were stern, for sure, but they were always kind to him. But a thought still bothered him. “So you never tried to pursue my f-… Dom… again?”

Nieve laughed bitterly. “Of course I did. Several times. Never at his home, though. Ever since my arrival it was guarded like a fortress. He dismissed me very time until the last time. Then he got physical. He grabbed me by the arm tightly, so hard it hurt, and shouted at me to never bother him again, or I would soon learn that no one messes with the Cavalleros.”

….

….

“WHAT?!”

Héctor’s outburst startled Nieve into such a state that she automatically moved into a defensive position, looking like she was ready to karate chop the air. “What?! What’d I do?!”

Héctor started to pace the room frantically, wildly gesturing as he went. “The Cavelleros?!” he shouted. “I’m related to the wealthiest family in-Oh no, my family is the wealthiest now… But the former wealthiest family in Santa Cecilia?! In Oaxaca?! I mean they’re not wealthy anymore, just today I got a business request from Ignacio and his father Dom…in…go…”

The fire that had lit underneath him sputtered out until there was nothing left. Shakily he sat back down onto the crate, feeling like he was going to be sick. Domingo Cavellero, the man who had never once talked to him but had often sneered at him if they came across each other in the plaza when he was just a small boy. Who forbade any of his children to listen to him play music with the rest of the crowd. The man who had actually bought his shoes from Rivera Zapatos, though always through a servant instead of in person.

“Domingo Cavellero… is my father…”

“A father is someone who loves their children and raises them, that cabrón did neither. Just forget him.” Nieve said. “At least one of us has to.”

Héctor had to agree to that. Domingo never did anything for him, it was best to just pretend like he was just another citizen in Santa Cecilia. But then he thought back to what Leti and her had discussed before he entered the room, and things didn’t make sense. “You have an ofrenda. One that you refuse to go to… Is it his?”

“… It is.”

“Why would he have an ofrenda for you if he rejected you?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care to know. He told me to never return to him, and I am content to do just that.”

Héctor could tell that she was not content at all, far from it, but Héctor was not about to argue with a teenage girl. Wait no, his mother. Damn, this was all so confusing. And some aspects were still not synching up.

“Wait a minute.” he said, “I thought I was abandoned on the church steps. Padre Mateo and the nuns never told me that you were there with them until I was born.”

Nieve’s eyes lost their fire quickly at that, almost looking deadened, and she quickly turned back to the window. Looking out into the fog, she stayed silent for a few moments to the point where Héctor felt like he had to ask what had happened. Then she spoke again, quietly, “I assume they thought it was best you didn’t know about me.”

“Why?”

“…Because the cause of my death was not… condoned by the church.”

Héctor was confused for about a second before the meaning of her words set in. With a quick intake of air he stared at her, heartbroken and a little angry. “Did you… kill yourself?”

Nieve kept looking out the window, trying not to meet Héctor’s gaze, and sighed. “You were such a beautiful baby; I’ll never forget the way you looked at me when you first opened your eyes. I could tell, even then, that you were going to be what your father wasn’t: A good person to his very core. There was only one obstacle, I thought, that was standing in your way of happiness. That was me.”

“I was so confused, so heartbroken, my brain was going crazy at the time. For weeks I tried to care for you, but every time you cried I felt more and more like a failure as a mother. There were times I would just stare at you as you cried, couldn’t make myself to move and reach for you for comfort. Sometimes I wanted to just shut you up for good, and those times scared me the most. It was when that darkness kept overtaking me that I made the decision to stop it before something terrible happened.”

“But something terrible did happen.” Héctor said, his throat constricting painfully. “You killed yourself.”

Nieve slowly nodded, still looking away. “I gave you one final kiss and left you in the care of the nuns. They had no idea what I was about to do until days later when my body, otherwise they would have tried to stop me... I walked down to the creek in the middle of the night, waded in, and let it sweep me away. December 31st, 1900. Exactly one year after I had met your father… I thought I was being very poetic, as most stupid little girls do.”

Héctor sniffled and scrubbed his face with a boney hand, tears blurring his vision. When Nieve finally looked back at him she was saddened to see them fall down his cheeks, but still she dared not touch him. “I’m sorry Héctor, but I thought I had lost everything. I felt I had no other choice.”

“You didn’t lose everything!” Héctor snapped, wiping the tears away. “You had me. All my life I wanted to know who my parents were and why they left me. And now that I do know I feel cheated! I could have!...” trailing off he pursed his lips tight, looking up at his mother with watery eyes. “I would have been a good son.”

That was it.

Without a seconds hesitation Nieve crossed the threshold and pulled Héctor into a fierce hug, pulling him close to her and knocking off her straw hat at the same time. It didn’t seem like it would be compatible for a teenage girl and a grown man to hug, but they fit perfectly together. Even though he had grown, and she remained the same, Héctor was still able fit into his mother’s hold. Hesitantly he put his hands on her back, eyes wide, before he too melted into the embrace. An embrace fifty years in the making.

“I know you would have been a good son.” Nieve whimpered into his ear. “You would have been the sweetest boy from the stories Leti has told me… And that is part of my punishment, knowing that.”

“Punishment?” Héctor mumbled.

Nieve nodded. “When I took my life I didn’t care about what happened next. All I wanted was for the pain to stop. But it didn’t stop, it stayed and grew. Only difference now is that I’m in this gaudy, technicolor party town where everyone celebrates their death and does whatever they want that they couldn’t do in death. While I had something so precious in my life that I couldn’t see through my pain. Now I’m just an old woman, living in isolation in the slums while pining for something that I threw away.”

Pulling back, Nieve cupped Héctor’s cheek lovingly and smiled. “You deserved so much better, Héctor.”

“So did you.” Héctor said. “I’m sorry your life turned out so bad in the end.”

Nieve shook her head. “It could have been prevented. I knew something was screwing with my head and I just let it fester. I should have just asked for counsel with Padre Mateo or the nuns, or maybe gone to the doctor or an institution. Maybe then I would have been a better mother for you, if I had just… asked someone to help me, I guess.”

Héctor felt something in his chest drop at what Nieve had said. That seemed… familiar. Staring off a ways, thinking about earlier conversations he’d rather be forgotten, he barely mumbled, “Yeah, maybe…”

Smiling tightly, Nieve pulled her hand away from him. “Are you all right?”

Sighing a deep, cleansing breath Héctor nodded. “I think so. I just don’t think my heart can take any more surprises tonight… But I do have one more question.”

Bracing herself to what it might be, Nieve wrung her hands. “Okay…”

“Why did you name me Héctor? Is it a family name or something? I just got teased a lot as a child.”

Sighing in relief Nieve nodded. “In a way. I named you after my pet pig Héctor.”

“… What?”

She nodded fondly, “He was a very good pig, so pink and squishy. Until he got too big, and we had to eat him. That’s probably why he didn’t turn up as my alebrije.”

“You named me after a pig?!”

“I was fourteen years old! Of course I would name you after something I loved! And need I remind you that you were a fat baby!”

Crossing his arms in a huff, Héctor seethed while Nieve continued. “I had a lot of good memories with that pig, thank you very much. Riding on his back, rolling in the mud, eating fruit and chapulines. They were good times.”

His pout fading away, Héctor looked back up at her. “Did you say chapulines?”

Nieve nodded, smiling again. “Sí, they’re my favorite dish. Dios, I must have eaten my entire body weight in chapulines while I was pregnant with you. Why?”

His lips quirking up, Héctor shook his head in wonderment. “No reason.”

Again there was a long stretch of silence between the two of them, but it wasn’t awkward or painful anymore. They just stared at each other, smiling in contentment and newfound affection, before Nieve finally sighed.

“You need to go. Get that curse removed.”

“Yeah… I do.” Héctor said, a part of him aching to stay with her and learn more. But staring down at his boney hand he knew that that wasn’t an option for him. He made move to leave when Nieve suddenly put her hand on his shoulder.

“Wait, one more thing.” She said with a warm smile. Bending down and picking up her straw hat off the ground, she shook the dust off of it and raised it up. “I know it’s twenty-seven days until your birthday, but since I’m fifty years behind on your other birthdays I need some catching up. It’s not much, but…Feliz Cumpleaños, mijo…”

Reaching up, Héctor touched the frayed edges of the straw hat that had been plopped down onto his head. It wasn’t much at all, really. Especially when he had designers to make proper clothing for him and his entire family. Not to mention he had never been much of a hat person outside of performing. But this was a gift from his mother, his first gift, and it had instantly become a treasured heirloom passed on to a son.

Still touching it with reverence, Héctor fought the urge to cry again as he choked out, “…Gracias.”

“De nada.” Nieve whispered. “Now go.”

With a jerky nod Héctor stood up and away, pausing at the exit. “I… I will see you again, right?”

“Of course. All souls end up here eventually, though hopefully you’ll last a few more decades yet.” Nieve said with a grin.

Returning the smile Héctor peeled back the tattered curtain and, with one last look back, was gone. Alone now Nieve let her smile fall, sorrow filling her entire being, and collapsed to the floor. Trying to suppress the deep sobs in her chest, Nieve couldn’t keep herself to comparing this last time seeing Héctor with all those years ago. With a little sleepy baby, innocent to the turmoil he would face without her, looking at her with half lidded eyes in the arms of a nun. An imaged practically burned into her retinas.

And as she wept she said the same thing she told him almost fifty-one years ago.

“Goodbye, my little baby…”

[punkpoemprose]

December 13th- A Convenient Arrangement Part 5

Universe: Canonverse Arranged Marriage AU Rating:T Length: 4046 Words A/N: Anna meets the trolls! I continue to try to catch up! Lets see which one of these two things goes better, shall we? A bit of a slow chapter all in all. More fun stuff coming in parts 6 & 7!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

They walked through the quickly darkening wood and Anna felt her heart racing in her chest as the dark part of her thoughts, the part of her that could never believe that anything good could ever happen to her, was screaming.

Don’t trust him. You’re going to die out here. He’ll call it an accident. It’ll be just like Hans.

She hadn’t been so scared at first, in fact she’d been enjoying the walk. There was plenty on the path to keep her eye occupied in the warm afternoon light. Little flowers, and mushrooms were bright and friendly, their petals and caps gleaming when she glanced down at them. The gentle rustling of leaves on the trees and the call of overhead birds had seemed so lively and comforting when everything was bright and warm.

When the sun sank low over the horizon, the shadows grew longer, and the air began to grow cool. The breezes were not icy, just cool in the way that the air sometimes became on summer nights, particularly away from the temperate influence of air coming off the fjord. The rustling of leaves seemed less lively then, and more ominous. The calls of birds seemed less friendly and more predatory, and some part of her brain that had been listening in her science lessons reminded her that mushrooms were associated with death and decay.

Kristoff’s hand felt less reassuring.

Run.

He squeezed her palm.

“Almost there,” he said.

She couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her.

Run before it’s too late you stupid girl.

“I did my best to explain the circumstances of our wedding,” he said, his voice low as he again broke the silence between them, “They’re kind of… hardheaded though. So, if they say anything rude or if they ask anything that makes you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I’ll stay right with you, you can squeeze my hand if you’re upset and I’ll figure out how to change the subject or something. They’re very excited to meet you.”

She wasn’t sure what it was that calmed her really. Maybe it was the gentleness of his apologetic tone? Or perhaps it was the fact that he was making plans to ensure her comfort. Surely it wasn’t something he’d invent if he had any intentions of hurting her.

He would never hurt you.

The much more charitable voice was attempting to wrest control from the negative one, and Anna tried to focus on something positive as she tried to level out her breathing and walk one step at a time forward. She decided to focus on Kristoff, as he was surely the most friendly looking part of their current surroundings.

He hadn’t shaved today. She noticed the very light shade of stubble on his cheeks and along his jaw. She hadn’t noticed on their wedding day that he could even grow facial hair. He’d looked so much more boyish to her then, probably because he was just as nervous as she’d been.

His hand was warm and grounding in her own. She gave his hand a little squeeze, and was surprised when he looked over at her with concern in his brown eyes. He squeezed back gently, and she realized that he had just got finished saying that she could squeeze his hand if she was upset. She gave him an apologetic look at then she saw the concern fade, replaced with a soft smile on his lips and a small spark of something in his eye.

She felt warm under his attention.

Safe.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” she asked quietly, the first thing she’d said since the start of the walk.

He smiled then, a broad and amused grin. He looked at her for a moment as if she’d said something very funny and pulled her, just a bit, closer to his side.

“I think they already do.”

***

When they broke into the clearing of the Valley of the Living Rock, Kristoff felt a nervousness in his stomach. It was a fluttering thing, making him wonder if he was going to be ill. It made him feel hollow, like his heartbeat was bouncing and echoing through him, amplifying his anxieties.

He almost wondered if Anna could sense his nervousness, but she seemed unaffected by it. Her mood had been, just a few short minutes before, apprehensive at best. He chocked it up to nerves, but now he thought that there might have been more to it. When he’d glanced at her she’d seemed outright scared, but then after they talked, she’d calmed significantly.

He could already read his wife quite well. Her moods read to him a bit like a popup book did to a child. This meaning that he could get the main idea rather quickly, but interpreting it further was a struggle. That he’d managed to respond to her properly was surely dumb luck, but he was glad for it. She seemed at least somewhat comfortable standing at his side before the open field of mossy stones.

“Is your family meeting us here, or?”

He took a deep breath, letting it fill his lungs and make his gut feel a little less like a hollow receptacle for fears and concerns. Explaining his family to her was something he’d thought about, but mostly in a theoretical sense, and not particularly deeply. He hadn’t formulated a plan on his way to his cabin, nor had he found a particularly good way to broach the subject on his way back to the valley with her.

You’re going to sound like a crazy person.

He gestured at the stones, a bit broadly as the sky continued to darken. Day had turned to afternoon and it too had turned to evening at a rapid pace. Despite the significant time spend in the sled together as they rode up to his cabin, he felt like he hadn’t had enough time with her at all, not enough time to explain, not enough time to know how she’d react.

“They’re already here.”

He watched as she glanced around the space, as if she’d simply just missed someone standing before her. He saw her eyes scanning the stones, grazing over them like she couldn’t possibly imagine anyone there, and he wished that he had the words to prepare her. He couldn’t find them, or anything even close.

So he stepped forward into the space and reached down to touch the nearest stone.

“The sun’s almost set,” he said, “You can wake up now. I brought her.”

He could sense the confusion from Anna behind him. He could practically feel her eyes on him as he walked through the valley and touched more stones, gently waking his family.

She thinks you’re crazy person.

“Kristoff?”

Her voice sounded strange from behind him, a mixture of fear and concern that made his heart pound. He wasn’t sure if she’d understand, if he could make her understand, that his family was not exactly human. With the confirmation that her sister, the Queen of Arendelle, had abilities beyond the realm of conventional belief, he had to hope that she would keep an open mind.

“Kristoff,” she repeated, “Are you… are you alright? I…”

The rocks began to shift around his feet, rolling towards him.

Anna stopped speaking and instead shrieked. He turned quickly to see her backing up with stuttering steps, her hands out before her, with terror in her eyes.

“It’s okay, Anna. Don’t be scared, they’re just…”

“Trolls.”

***

Anna felt as though her eyes were about to pop out of her head, that her heart was about to give out. Kristoff had told her that he was going to bring her to meet his family, but instead she’d watched him address a field of mossy stones that were now rapidly rolling his way.

She thought for a moment that there may have been some kind of natural disaster happening, a landslide, or an earthquake, or something explainable. She tried to make it work in her head as she backed away from the space on shaking feet, but to no avail.

A landslide on flat land. An earthquake that only moves stones and doesn’t shake the ground. Logical Anna. Very logical.

Kristoff turned to her and seemed to register her panic. She could see the fear in his eyes in return, but it was a strange look. It wasn’t the sort of panic she would expect to see on the face of someone about to be crushed by oncoming moving stones, but instead it seemed to be directed at her.

It reminded her of the hurt she’d seen in his eyes on their wedding night. When she’d insulted him by accident when she’d thought he’d insist on bedding her. It confused her, and as she continued to try to move away, her eyes pleading with him to do the same, she heard him speak.

He was telling her not to be afraid.

He’s crazy. He’s literally insane. I have been married off to some kind of half mad forest hermit and he’s only held it together until this moment.

There was a scraping sound that joined with the dull thudding of the rolling stones. She tried to make sense of the noise, to understand what was making it, but it was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. She thought it might just be the stones bumping together, but then she realized that none of the small boulders were colliding, but rather were moving in unnaturally straight paths toward Kristoff, like they were seeking him out.

She saw it then, the source of the scraping sound.

They’re unrolling. They’re alive.

She felt her jaw drop, her stumbling feet almost tripping beneath her as she took in the change occurring before her. The stones weren’t really stones at all, but were instead small humanoid creatures made of grey stone. They varied a bit in appearance, some large and some small, all with round noses and black eyes. She noticed that they were dressed in clothes of moss and grass, and that some, around their rocky necks, wore crystals.

Like the ones in his chest.

“Trolls,” she said, the word falling from her lips as soon as the connection was made. “They’re trolls.”

She remembered childhood stories, being held in her mother’s arms on her bed as she or her father told her tales. There was one about an enchanted forest, one about the spirits of nature, one about the creation of the kingdom, and several about creatures who were said to live in the mountains and forests of Arendelle. The topic of several stories she’d enjoyed in particular was trolls.

She recalled him reaching out for her hair before the impromptu hike they’d just taken. She remember his questioning her about how she’d gotten it, and the amused and pleased look he’d offered her when she’d told him the childish explanation she’d formed as a child.

I dreamt I was kissed by a troll.

She supposed that she had been now. Even if only an adopted one.

Kristoff looked straight at her, the concerned look on his face, the nervous upturn of his lips, the furrowing of his brows, still evident despite the space they’d put between them.

“They are.”

Oh.

She was half expecting him to shake his head and let her know that she was seeing things. She almost wanted to hear that she was losing her mind from stress and lack of sleep, but no. He was standing with his family, looking at her with an almost pleading expression, as if he needed her to understand.

And she did.

If my sister can freeze half the kingdom because she panics, I can’t exactly find it odd that his family is a valley full of rock trolls.

“I…” she didn’t know what to say.

She took a deep breath, focusing on letting her lungs fill with air after the panicked shouting she’d done. She let her eyes linger on Kristoff’s face, and the softness that was there. She thought about how he made her feel, even though their relationship was new, and felt her muscles relax as she calmed. Once she was breathing with relative ease and she managed to wrap her head around the basic concept that she was addressing her husband and his family, she was able to let years of “princess training” take over. She’d never been perfect at being properly royal, something she chocked up to not ever being able to practice what was preached to her, but she hoped that her manners would be good enough for a valley of stone people.

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

She addressed the crowd, but kept her eyes on Kristoff as she spoke, anchoring herself on him. This was his family, and now, through marriage, hers as well.

***

Kristoff watched as the valley around him descended into chaos.

Somewhere off to his side one of his aunts broke the silence after Anna spoke, and did so in a much less delicate and proper manner than his wife had managed.

“Kristoff brought a girl!”

The convergence on Anna after her shout was inevitable, and he couldn’t help but curse himself for walking so far away from her. There was a momentary panic in his wife’s face as his family ran and rolled towards her but when he gave her a concerned and apologetic glance, he found that she simply smiled and furrowed her brows in return, her shoulders shrugging as if she were trying to communicate “I’m okay” over the distance, but still offer her trepidation at the same time.

He walked through the crush of small stone bodies before someone could steal her away. There were questions being shouted to both of them, but there was little he could make out as the voices intermingled into a cacophony of hoots and hollers and conversation. Evidently his parents and grandfather had not had the time to inform the rest of the family before his arrival with Anna.

“Guys, please,” he said, loud enough that he hoped he could be heard, but not so loud that he might frighten Anna with his shouting, “We’ll explain soon, just… where’s Pabbie?”

He managed to catch Anna’s hand as he approached, and carefully pulled her towards him, his family moving out of the way as they moved to occupy a closer space.

Trying his best to be comforting he squeezed Anna’s hand in his own, but instead of her usual squeeze back, he found her moving closer into his space, shifting so that their arms crossed behind them and so that her back was against his chest. She dropped his hand and then leaned into him.

It was instinct when he took the hand that had been in hers and draped it around her waist protectively.

She made a soft sound when he did so, and while he still wasn’t totally sure of her cues and what anything she did really meant beyond his initial instinct and assumption, he thought that she might be comforted. He pulled her a little closer and she leaned into him further. He thought that he might feel some tension leaving her at the contact.

Wishful thinking.

He was about to ask about Pabbie again when the crowd of the family parted abruptly, and a familiar stone came rolling their way. He pressed his arm into Anna’s waist gently, doing his best to be reassuring as the crowd returned to silence. He could feel her tensing again, and he wished more than anything that he would have waited to bring her to meet his family.

If he’d just managed to spend a week with her, to learn more about her, he may have known how to comfort her better. He might have known the right words to say so that this wouldn’t all come to her as a shock, but he hadn’t. He’d brought her to meet his family after marrying her as a complete stranger. He’d frightened her more in the last few days than he would have liked.

If she makes it through this and doesn’t hate me, we’ll be alright.

At least, I hope.

“Pabbie,” he addressed the old troll as he unrolled himself before them.

His parents then shifted out of the edges of the assemblage and made their way to Pabbie’s side, standing in the small clearing with him and Anna. They were a small bubble of his immediate family in a sea of the extended members of the troll clan he’d been adopted into, and while he couldn’t say that he thought Anna was particularly relaxed by this, he did think that the space allowed her to again release some of the tension in her body.

“Mom. Dad,” he added as they entered the space.

He wished that he could see Anna’s face. He was reading her based on body language alone, and he wasn’t particularly proficient at it.

His mother and father were smiling though, and he had to hope that Anna found it as comforting as he did.

***

Kristoff was at her back and Anna was trying to focus on her breathing as the chaos of the stone creatures swirled around her. She took comfort in the fact that those who had entered her space had backed off a bit. She knew, instinctually, and from the stories her parents had told her as a child that the trolls were not going to hurt her, but she was still overwhelmed by them.

Kristoff wouldn’t take you anywhere where someone would hurt you. This is his family. They’re excited to see you.

The positive part of her thoughts was back and with a vengeance. She thought it might have something to do with the intimacy of Kristoff’s arm being wrapped around her waist, the way his chest being at her back made he feel surrounded and protected in a way she’d never experienced before. She realized after a short time that the deep calming breaths she was taking were mirroring the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

She closed her eyes for a moment and felt her face flush as she thought about breathing with him, but she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was the mental image of facing him while doing so, lips barely an inch apart.

She tried to push it out of her mind.

When she began to focus on what was happening around her again she noted three trolls before her. If she’d heard and understood Kristoff correctly, she was fairly certain that they were his adopted parents and grandfather. She supposed it made sense given the wide berth the rest of the crowd was giving them while the three trolls closest to her were not seemingly bothered by their proximity to her and Kristoff. They all seemed to have smiles on their faces, and Anna allowed herself to think of them as happy to see her.

“You’re beautiful,” the troll with glowing pink crystals and white puffy flowers in her hair said in a warm tone.

His mother.

She managed to slip back into Princess mode, and thought that maybe if she thought of her marriage to Kristoff as political, and this meeting with his family as diplomatic might help. It wasn’t incorrect by any stretch of the imagination. Even in her father’s stories Arendelle was aligned with the trolls and had treaties with them.

Her marriage to Kristoff had been political. She’d just never realized how much, and she doubted that it was at all intentional.

“Thank you,” she managed, “That’s very kind to say, given you’re lovely yourself.”

She thought that maybe her tone made it sound like she was laying it on thick, but she actually meant it. There was a softness to the stone woman’s features and a brightness to her eye that Anna read as a unique sort of beauty. The pitted stone of her nose reminded Anna a bit of her own freckles, and she’d always liked them, so also liked the feature on the troll woman.

“Oh Kris,” the troll said, stepping forward into their space a bit more and grinning up at him, “I like her already.”

Anna felt his laugh as she heard it. More tension leached from her muscles as he gently shifted his hand up her side a bit until it was resting on her ribs. His laughter was soothing to her, and she already knew that she would enjoy making him laugh when she could manage it.

“I do too Ma,” he said, his voice low, as if it were just for her ears.

Anna’s heart fluttered at the admission, the words so close to her ear that she took it to be something that he wanted her to hear.

He likes me.

It was a silly thing to be excited about, but she supposed that every positive thing they could manage to find about their situation was something worth celebrating.

I like him too.

Pabbie, the older troll that seemed to command the respect of all others, cleared his throat.

Anna felt her eyes drawn to him and his wizened features. He had bags under his eyes, and a larger nose than the rest. She supposed the signs of aging were much the same in all humanoid creatures, though she couldn’t say for sure as her current count of humanoids only included trolls and humans.

He had expressive thick mossy brows, and his eyes appeared kind as they settled upon her face.

She did her best to hold his gaze and keep her breathing level. She wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with so many eyes on her, even though it was practically in the description of being a crown princess to be stared at. She hadn’t experienced it very much in her life before the last couple weeks.

“Welcome to our family,” the old troll announced loudly, setting the tone for the whole family, though it didn’t seem much different to Anna than the tone they’d set running towards her.

She realized it now that she was feeling safe and protected under Kristoff’s hold, that they were only excited about meeting her and that they’d only meant to greet her. It had been so overwhelming in the moment that she’d struggled to think anything about it, but now she could see that the valley was full of “people” who were just excited to see her. “People” who had raised her husband despite being a totally different species.

“We have much to discuss,” the old troll added, much more quietly.

He stretched out a hand to her, and Anna couldn’t help but disentangle herself from Kristoff’s arm to take his hand before she took the one offered by the old troll as well.

She wasn’t entirely sure what they had to talk about, but she suddenly felt excited about the prospect to discuss anything with the three trolls before her.

They know Kristoff better than anyone. They love him.

She hoped that maybe learning more from them, hearing their thoughts and stories might help her love him too.

There was a quiet part of her that thought that she didn’t need the help.

She squeezed Kristoff’s hand and felt him return the gesture comfortingly.

I’m already falling for him.

She thought that it was a bad idea perhaps, to let herself move from thinking about like to love, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart had always been open, and she couldn’t let what had happened to her close it.

You can’t fall in love with someone you just met.

She thought again about the irony of their situation. She’d managed to cause this whole mess by breaking the cardinal rule that you’re not supposed to marry someone you just met, and then the solution to fix the aftermath had been to do just that. So some rules, she supposed were meant to be broken for the right person. Or at least for politics.

She liked to think that maybe it really was for the right person though as she followed the old troll and felt Kristoff keep pace with her as they went.

I’m falling in love with my husband.

[thedinanshiral]

My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy.  I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return. 

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely.  My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total  injustice. 

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that  glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

[call-me-nerdy]

She slept like the dead (Daminette)

Marinette slept like she was dead.

Or

How an Angel's sleeping habits left the Devil disturbed and concerned.

------

Damian Wayne wasn't the type to be emotional, – no, never. He refused to delude himself with useless endeavors and stupid hyperboles. Damian always reasoned that even if he was a Wayne, the name he carried didn't mean he was as dramatic as his family. Actually, he fancied himself not dramatic at all.

Ever since the league forced a blade into his hands at the mere age of three, the value of pragmatism was practically burned into his head by means of gleaming metal and acrid gunpowder. With every bruise that littered his skin, with every scar carved onto his back, – Damian knew that in order to survive, every ounce of childlike naivety was to be abandoned. He was an assassin for god's sake. And no assassin could afford to lose their lives because of foolish impulsiveness.

He was taught to be fearless as well. At age six, he no longer dreaded the whips that licked his ankles until his steps were feather-light. He no longer whined when his palms were red, sore and throbbing, – strained by the heavy katanas that were too big for his clammy, little fingers.

It was so deeply ingrained into his mind that even after defecting from the league, Damian couldn't shake off his rigorous training. He couldn't discard the wariness that stuck stubbornly to his brow, nor the sternness that lined his lips straight and tightly shut. He couldn't even fathom to live the childhood that he missed, – couldn't bare to live a life of freedom and carelessness. It was almost his nature to be an assassin, – to be nimble, to be cold, to be blunt, to be fearless. It was muscle memory.

But despite all of this, his heart trembled when he saw his Marinette's body still and silent on her chaise bed, unmoving if not for the excruciatingly slow and shallow rise of her chest.

She slept like the dead.

Marinette laid on her back, a hand on her stomach and the other limp at her side. Damian didn't notice it immediately. But when he spared a closer glance, he froze when her position was too stiff to be slumbering, – too still for someone alive. It brought back unwelcome memories from before he was ten years old.

"She's just sleeping." A high voice tinkled beside his ear, speaking softly with motherly assurance. Damian tilted his head to see a small, red creature fly in front of him.

"Tikki?" He muttered, the name slipping from his tongue and through his teeth. Damian sucked in a breath hastily, as if inhaling his words when he realized his mistake. Tikki only smiled briefly, only slightly; a wordless reassurance that told him it was okay to say her name. He sighed his panic away.

Damian returned his gaze to the sleeping girl, his chest tightening with every breath. His hands became cold, numbness spreading from the tips of his fingers. He frowned, biting down on his teeth. At closer look, Marinette's skin was unhealthily pale. Damian winced when he realized it resembled translucent paper, delicate enough to rip with the slightest pressure.

Her eyes were closed, almost laborlessly so. As if they had no intention of opening ever again. Never to light the room up with their sincerity and determination. Never to widen in surprise nor sparkle in delight when Damian surprises her with her favorite food. Never to glisten and waver whenever Marinette pouts, trying to convince him to go back to sleep when a memory wakes him up at 3 AM. Never to look at him again when Marinette holds his hands tightly to tell him it's all going to be alright.

"That doesn't look like sleeping." Damian breathed out, clenching the fabric inside his pockets. He tried to hide the quiver in his voice.

He couldn't. Not when his Angel was like this.

Tikki frowned, and Damian's stomach flipped with unsettlement. "It..." She dragged, biting down on her teeth as she searched for words to say. "Happens a lot." The kwami said awkwardly, nervously. Turning her head to avoid his eyes, Damian didn't fail to catch the reluctance that tensed her little body.

"That's... concerning." Unsettling. Damian closed his eyes, bowing his head to look at his shoes. The longer he saw Marinette's state, the more she resembled the dead.

And he hated it.

He hated how the bright smile that always played on her mouth was absent from her slumbering face, – how her lips that should be petal pink was pale and tainted a sickly purple. He hated how the dark rings under her eyes were prominent against her skin, – her skin that was pasty pale when she slept, – that Damian remembered so vividly as soft and healthy underneath his fingers.

He hated how his heart raced and twisted and dropped to his feet when she laid like the dead.

"You know, she wasn't always like this."

Damian stayed silent, only his furrowed brows signaled Tikki to continue.

"Marinette." Tikki clarified, "She used to be very animated in her sleep." she said with a fond tone, her blue eyes glossy in reminiscence.

It seemed to be a happy memory.

"What happened?" The words nearly died in his throat. Damian tried to step forward, but his legs couldn't move. They were paralyzed in place. Whether it was by shock, guilt, or fear, he didn't know.

Tikki sucked a breath, regret built her posture. "Ladybug happened."

"Did the stress take a toll on her?" Damian said through gritted teeth, running a hand through his hair. Stress or not, he should've been there for her.

"Partly, but that's not the whole story." The tiny goddess sighed, dejection sunk her shoulders low.

Damian looked up, "What?" his heartbeat slowed. It thumped loudly against his rib cage. Dread piled up between his ribs.

"The miraculous cure. You know of it's nature, yes?" Tikki started, finally turning her head to meet his eyes.

Damian bit the inside of his cheek, "It repairs all the damage caused by an akuma according to Ladybug's mental state." he recited verbatim. Marinette told him those exact words, when she vented her frustrations to him on a late Friday night. He comforted her on video call, when her room was disheveled and her pigtails undone.

"It also reverses any injury that was sustained from the battle." Tikki added, making Damian crumple his face in questioning. "From simple bruises to fatal wounds, – everything."

He stayed speechless, stiff in his spot. His jaw quivered, slightly but still there. He clamped his mouth shut, ignoring his drying tongue.

It was too uncanny.

"It can also reverse death." Tikki's voice faded, but Damian caught her every word. His spine shook and tremored.

"What do you mean? How?!" He nearly screamed, nearly cried. Damian glimpsed at Tikki's wince. How she drew back at the crack in his voice, – at the horror that weaved itself into his lips and his eyes and his cheeks.

Despite him, she continued. "The Ladybug's earrings are the most powerful items in the world alongside the Black cat's ring." She carefully said, slowly as if to ease Damian into her explanation. To ease him in, despite his clenched fists and gritted teeth.

He relented and listened.

"Plagg can unleash destruction on everything he touches. And I..." She flew to a small, pink-tinted vase on Marinette's bedside, where clear water rested idly. "Can bring life." Tikki placed her small hand on the glass for less than a second, a soft pink glow emitting from her palm, barely-there if not for his keen sight. Damian's eyes widened when a stem grew from nothing, growing until it bloomed a vibrantly red carnation on its head. He continued to stare, flabbergasted, when the plant still continued to grow, swallowing the vase entirely in its a mess of green and leaves. The stems thickened as they crawled and coiled around the table, enveloping it until they finally reached the floor.

All that from a single touch...

Damian peeled his eyes away, shaking the nerves that clung to his bones.

Unnatural.

"It's how we created the pools of life." Tikki stared at the abomination of a plant, downcast. "You might better know it as the Lazarus Pit."

Damian's breath hitched, "You created the Lazarus pit?! Wh–" he was silenced by the regret that glimmered in Tikki's big blue eyes.

"It was a long time ago, before the order. When we were still reckless little spirits." Tikki sighed, floating to Marinette's side to stroke her hair.

"How does this affect Marinette? What about the Cure?" Damian stepped forward, mustering every ounce of his strength to approach Marinette.

Tikki frowned, "It always affected my previous Ladybugs, but never to this extent. Never this severe." she looked to the floor.

"What do you mean?" He halted in his steps, and Tikki flew to his face.

"Damian." She peered into his eyes, and Damian stared back with equal conviction. "Remember, Hawkmoth is extremely dangerous. Even with the miraculous cure reversing everything, keep in mind that people die every day because of his schemes." Tikki paused, breathing shallowly.

"You know better than anyone that people who die," She trailed off, her watering eyes flickering.

"Are supposed to stay dead." Damian finished for her, quietly; tonelessly. He couldn't feel his legs anymore. Nor his arms, his hands and his torso. Suddenly, all he could hear was his heartbeat. It was as if the world stopped moving, and his head had swirled in it's place.

Tikki nodded, "Exactly. But rules are rules, and rules can always be bent." she exhaled. "But even if the cure essentially heals the damage done..."

"The trauma doesn't disappear." Damian barely registered his voice when he spoke. It was automatic, – a reality.

"The cure doesn't heal everyone, Damian. At least, not entirely." Tikki bowed her head, sinking in the air. Sorrow didn't sit well with her tiny voice.

"Not mentally." Damian mused bitterly as he held out his hand.

"No. Not even emotionally." Tikki landed on his palm. She weighed nothing.

Damian could almost laugh at the familiarity of the situation, though he only huffed. "It's a side effect." He forced through gritted teeth.

Silence filled the air for a minute, the tension suffocating.

"Ladybug has seen many people die. She has witnessed strangers, friends and even family members perish at the hands of an akuma. It's almost daily at this point. She's even seen her partner mortally wounded, almost dead where he stood." Tikki choked out, her voice breaking at several points.

"Wait, can the heroes die? Even with the miraculous?"

Tikki looked up at him, "That's the point, they can't." she emphasized. "Even if they're supposed to."

"They're supposed to?!"

The kwami lightly shook her head, "Ladybugs cannot die when they are transformed. No matter the injury. The miraculous keeps her going."

Damian inhaled deeply, searching for the words he had to say only to find none sitting in his throat.

"Damian, listen to me." Tikki whispered, her voice now shaking. She wrapped her tiny arms around her.

"Marinette's supposed to be dead a hundred times over."

Time stopped and the world dropped alongside his heart. Bile crawled up his neck to bitter and poison the roof of his mouth. The sudden ringing in his ears was intense, it left him disoriented like his soul was sucked from his body. Fear iced his skin and bones, and suddenly he couldn't feel his chest. Realization dawned upon him like water over his head.

"Then... if not for the miraculous..."

Tikki sluggishly bobbed her head once, "Her body might be fine, but her mind and soul are not. The only reason she's still fighting is because of her resilience. So whenever she lets down her guard, – whenever she sleeps..." she trailed off.

"She sleeps like the dead." Damian whispered, enough so Tikki can hear but silent enough that he could deny it for one minute more. But it stuck to his tongue, to the roof of his mouth.

"Is there any way to help her?" He said tonelessly, but desperation shook his voice.

"She can heal with time, I can make sure of that. But Ladybug's healing requires the mental fortitude of the wielder." Tikki forced herself up, collecting her strength as he floated up from his palm. "Marinette already forces herself to be strong as Ladybug. But as her civilian self, she lacks the support to recover. The stress and trauma on her shoulders prevent her from doing so."

Damian sighed, a bit relieved. "That's why you told me." his tense shoulders relaxed.

"Yes." Tikki affirmed, "Damian, she's been so much better since you came along." relief washed over her eyes.

Damian frowned, concerned and curious.

"She used to be so pale. Mari, my little bug... A few months ago she didn't even seem to breathe! She'd go full days without anyone being able to wake her up!" Tikki cried, holding a hand to her small chest.

Damian felt his chest tighten again, his palms aching with the soles of his feet.

She was worse off?

"Please, Damian. I know I'm asking too much," Tikki's forced composure broke, and desperation seeped through the cracks. "but please, please..."

"Save my little bug."

"I will." Damian answered without a second thought, and Tikki's lips pulled up at the ends at his conviction, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

She wiped the tears away, "Thank you..." she bowed down, her hands clamped together.

Although Damian agreed to helping her, he was still at a loss on what to do. He looked at Marinette again, biting his cheek to numb the fear in his chest.

Tikki seemed to notice this, "She wouldn't wake up when I called her. But maybe you can try?" she wore her motherly smile again.

Damian walked to Marinette as if in a trance, swallowing the panic that previously blocked his throat. He kneeled next to her, putting a hand on her bare shoulder. She was cold.

"It's time to wake up, Habibti." He shook her lightly, his voice gentle. It was quite counter-intuitive that he spoke so softly, but he couldn't help the instinct that pulled at his gut.

And as if by miracle, she stirred.

Damian held his breath when her hand moved, closing into a fist. Marinette's eyebrows crumpled together and her mouth opened to whine lightly. Color returned to her lips and cheeks, spreading down to her neck and chest, no longer lifelessly white when her fingers twitched to life. Damian retracted slightly when she pushed herself up.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Damian?" she said mid yawn.

He didn't register the slight smile that was on his face.

"Good morning, Angel."

----

Yoooo does this count as angst? Not really sure myself, since I've never been good at writing sad stories. But it sure ain't fluff.

This is a bit of a grim take on why Marinette never wakes up on time. I came up with this idea when I was on a Daminette reading spree and there was like, one line that said Marinette slept like she was dead, and that not even a bomb would wake her up. It was a pretty light-hearted story, so I haven't a single clue why I took it so literally.

Oh, and forgive me for Damian's characterization. I know nothing about DC. I based this off of the Maribat fanfics I've read, so please take this one shot with a healthy dose of salt. I made his POV pretty general. I know next to nothing about the Lazarus pits, so I'm going on a limb there too. I made it so that the Lazarus pits are basically a crime against humanity, kinda like Victor Frankenstein playing god. And I'm not sure if that's accurate to the DC verse, but it's dramatic, and that's all I'm looking for ngl.

I'm also assuming that Death feels like, well, Death. That coming back from the dead is against the laws of nature. That yes, rules can bend, but the side effects are always nasty.

Oh, additionally I have no clue what AU this takes place in. Just... I think they met before Lila? I haven't really thought this through.

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

what's beyond compare, prologue

also on AO3

---

The Avatar was not the only spirit that reincarnated. Many spirits had their own cycles, human one life and nature the next several turns, if they decided to try again at all. Coming back to the mortal world as a human took energy that, for any normal spirit, would take several lives to regenerate. Those that could be human time and time again were the strongest of spirits, respected far and wide, often living to be quiet ancient and powerful.

Two of these were the spirits of Oma and Shu.

They were different in that they rarely reincarnated, but always came back to mortal life as humans. Always in times of strife; always meant to change the world.

Shu did not always die, but it was a common, tragic end, a blow Oma would never recover from, even after their mortal lives ended. These scars were buried deeply, carried from one life to the next. Shu’s fate was to be the catalyst; Oma’s to destroy and rebuild. Each reunion in the spirit world was teary-eyed and frantic—they weren’t meant to be apart. And though they were often separated in the mortal world, the spirit plane was different. They were together, and they did not leave the other’s side for anything except their next lives.

The day the young Air Avatar ran away, face first into a storm of destiny, the spirit world was quiet, its breath held. Oma and Shu did not feel the pull they so rarely did, and stayed together in their sunny meadow, unaware of what was to come.

One moment, all was normal, the peace shuddering but still staying strong. Then, with both all too little and all too much warning, there was swiftly an influx of spirits, a flood which overwhelmed nature itself as it dragged on and on. The sun flickered and wavered; the moon appeared in the sky much too early; the ocean stopped turning.

The air nomads, terrified and clinging to each other as they wouldn’t have in life, were sure that the mighty spirits were angry. Those that knew—that accepted they had passed on, and that there was a little boy somewhere with the weight of the world falling upon his shoulders—were more interested in finding the Avatar. A monk called Gyatso ran amongst his people, his heart breaking all over again at the number of children he saw. Every time he turned a boy around and saw one he knew—but not the one he was looking for—it thudded in his chest; if he were alive, it would hurt, how harshly it beat.

Suddenly the world shone bright, bloody red. Agni faded back into his normal shine, and Tui went back to silently and invisibly (for now) watching. La was brought to shore once again. The Nomads could not relax, even as relief swept through parts of the crowd. The calm was just as vast and unknowable as the chaos. Children, scared, huddled together. Couples clung to each other, and others stood back to back, sure there would be more displays of divine—rage? Grief? They weren’t to know.

In the midst of this, another soul joined the masses. They were unlike the others, who were young and hale, not yet ready to be back to this place—they were ancient and incomprehensible. Yet, at the same time, diminished; scarred. There were spots on their body that flickered in and out of sight, and others which held strong and visible.

“The Avatar,” Gyatso knew. He knew the boy, and he knew this being on some level, able to recognize that understated power anywhere. But the spirit of the Avatar did not live in the Spirit World, nor did it ever stay after its life was ended.

The pale eyes of this new spirit flickered to Gyatso. “He lives,” they said, voice a pained rasp. There was not supposed to be pain here, but supposed-to’s never withstood reality. “The boy lives.”

But in what condition, Gyatso didn’t dare ask. He believed he knew, and the truth was too much for him, in that moment. He bowed to the Avatar, the half-soul, and walked away with his heart in his throat.

For some time, there was inescapable tension hanging in the air of the spirit world.

Some of the Air Nomads moved on, becoming plants and animals, desperate to be home again however they could be. Others haunted their old temples with an earnestness that brought tears to the eyes of those that wandered, who brought back devastating news of war. More powerful spirits amongst the Nomads returned to life as humans, drawing on the energy they had left over from their too-short previous lives, and found each other again.

There weren’t many air benders still living, after the genocide, but those that did created small groups, put down roots and lived inconspicuous lives where no one but their families ever knew they could bend.

The severed soul moved about from one place to the next, never quite staying anywhere for long. They could not see where they were going, but felt tugs on their very faint heartstrings that left them going one way or the other. They were always so cold, and so alone, hands out not to find their way, but to find their balance. Their other half.

Every spot they were brought to was empty, the missing pieces of their very being nowhere to be found.

Oma and Shu stayed in their meadow. It was safe there, secluded and favored by Agni, who kept a pocket of light forever shining for them. It was the half-spirit that alerted them something was going on in the mortal world. They visited them frequently, searching for something they could not give.

“I feel you,” they said, a hand fisted over their thin chest. “I feel that. Don’t you feel it too?”

Oma and Shu only knew of one pull such as that. The call back to the mortal world. But it did not call them to other spirits, and never each other until the new life had already begun.

“Come,” said Shu kindly, reaching out a gentle hand. “Why don’t you sit with us?”

“It’s very nice here,” said Oma. They never let outsiders enter their sanctuary, but ancient recognized ancient, and Oma was sure no half-soul could hurt Shu. Not there, not under Agni’s careful and giving eye. “We shall meditate and see what we find.”

Reluctantly, the half-soul joined them on the soft grass. As one, all three spirits closed their eyes and envisioned their futures.

The half-soul saw a face. Shrouded in icy blue, the features were difficult to make sense of. But the feelings attached were that of complete and utter rightness, belonging, matched. They could feel even from so different a plane that this soul was halved, too.

Oma saw lightning. There were no other features to this vision, just a terrible crack cutting through the air and a bolt aimed by no one, heading nowhere. A familiar, awful fear grew in Oma’s chest. It wasn’t headed nowhere, they knew. It was headed for Shu.

Shu saw something much different. They saw the Fire Nation. There was a crowd below them, the features blurry, the accompanying shouts muffled. But they knew the feeling of the people, the joy, the acceptance. An invisible hand took hold of Shu’s, and peace filled their very being as they realized they were right where they needed to be. Alive, and with Oma.

Alone, the half-soul stumbled away. No other spirit dared to harm them, for the first and only time one tried, the power of the Avatar reacted harshly, forcing the attacker away. But the half-soul didn’t feel safe—they felt the holes where their other half should have been very keenly.

This just wouldn’t do, they came to realize. They could not be weak here, especially considering the numbers of Fire Nation soldiers who were passing every day now.

Vowing to be stronger, the half-soul found a spot that was blessed by Tui. It was dark and blessedly quiet except for the ever-present tugging in their chest. They closed their eyes against the blurry nothingness they always saw, and looked inside of themself instead.

Piece by piece, over nearly a hundred years, they built up their empty spots as much as they could. They would always have those spots, the shadows of aching loss lingering, but they made themself whole.

Still, the tugging never left.

Oma was not ready when the pull to the mortal world came once again. They never were—the pain of knowing what was to come was nearly as bad as having to leave Shu behind. They would be separated. They would have to find each other. They would have to change the world, and Shu would almost surely be killed for all their efforts.

Shu held their face in their hands. Eyes meeting, Shu pressed a kiss to their lips and said softly, “We will be together again, my love. One way or another. This time will be different.”

Oma didn’t want to cry, but it was so difficult. Forcing their posture straight, they gave Shu one last smile. Forced though it may have been, they both knew it was best to leave on a happy note, even if it was false.

Then, each step feeling like it was fated, Oma returned to the world of mortals.

[anotherhawk]

Second Chance Ghost ch 2 (Star Wars Prequel Fanfiction)

Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent back in time to the fight in the Naboo reactor. This time he dies in Qui-Gon’s place.

In this chapter Anakin gets several hugs and Qui-Gon does not.

On AO3 here or under the cut.

It only took a moment for the universe to change. One moment he'd been having the time of his life, being carried aloft by the jubilant Naboo pilots, grinning from ear to ear as they recounted the battle – the battle he'd been a part of, that they'd won – and then, in an instant, he was crying, great, uncomfortable sobs, forcing themselves up from somewhere deeper than himself, and there were tears streaming down his face – he was wasting water and he didn't know why.

Somehow he'd been sat down and people were talking at him but he couldn't seem to understand, and someone was hugging him, but he didn't know who it was, and he wanted Mom and he wanted...and he wanted... “Something's gone wrong,” he said, trying to explain what he didn't understand. “It wasn't supposed to be this way.”

He was hugged tighter, pulled against the pilot's chest. “It's alright, kid. It's alright. Just let it all out. You're safe now.”

“He's in shock,” a woman said. “Battle stress. We should take him to the medics – poor kid should never have been up there.”

That wasn't fair, because he'd stayed in the cockpit, just like Mister Qui-Gon had said, and besides “I blew up the ship,” he pointed out, between gulping sobs.

“Yeah, you did,” the pilot said. “You were very brave, and you saved our butts so now it's our turn to take care of you, okay? Let's get you someplace quiet to rest, get you some water and something to eat, and see if we can find your Jedi friends, okay?”

That did sound good, and he still couldn't seem to stop crying, so he just nodded and even though he was perfectly able to walk by himself – he wasn't a baby – he let the pilot carry him through the corridors to the medical wing. The feeling of wrongness didn't fade, exactly, but it seemed to spread out, like ripples through the dunes after a bad storm.

The medics were very busy and after a quick check over he was given a big glass of water and a protein bar and left in one of the offices. He guessed he'd been sort of forgotten, but it wasn't a big deal right now – the door was open and he could see into the clinic and he could see them all running around taking care of people that were much worse off than he was. Mister Qui-Gon or Padmé or someone would come and get him at some point, and in the meantime if he couldn't be useful he should just stay out of the way.

Except then Mister Qui-Gon did come into the clinic, and he wasn't looking for Anakin at all. He was being carried on a stretcher, even though he was wide awake and arguing. One of his hands was holding a robe tightly and the other one was...the other one was gone.

He felt a stab of fear – had the red and black creature done that? Where was it now? If it had beaten Mister Qui-Gon, was it going to come and kill the rest of them? And where was Obi-Wan?

A woman wearing a security officer and carrying two lightsabers followed the stretcher into the room. Judging by the expression on her face she was the one Mister Qui-Gon was arguing with. And then following her was another Jedi. He hadn't known there were any other Jedi on Naboo, and he wondered why this one hadn't taken part in the battle. He was an old man, though, and he didn't look up to much, so maybe that was understandable. He wore robes like all the other Jedi Anakin had met, but his were worn and patched, and they looked to be made of a coarser material, more like the stuff you got on Tattoine than the beautiful soft fabric everyone else seemed to have. He was watching Qui-Gon with a frown of concern, even though he wasn't saying anything.

“I'm telling you to let me go and organise a search party right now! I was holding him and - “

“ - you said he died, Master Jedi. Forgive me, but sadly I don't think a search party is going to be of any use in this case. I grieve for your loss.”

“He didn't just die, he vanished,” Mister Qui-Gon snarled, angry in a way Anakin hadn't thought he was capable of. He always seemed so calm, so nice. He shrank back a little from the gap in the door. Were they talking about the sith? Or...no. They'd been talking about grief and loss. They must be talking about Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had died.

“Oh, no,” he whispered, his hand pressed to his mouth, and no one knew he was there and no-one could have heard him, but the strange Jedi looked over to him immediately, and his face did something strange when he saw Anakin, like he was incredibly sad and unbelievably happy, all at the same time.

Jedi were weird.

He turned back to listen to what Mister Qui-Gon was saying. “...I don't know what happened, but I can assure you that I've seen more than enough Jedi die before today. Our bodies decompose like the rest of the galaxy, we don't simply vanish. Something strange is going on, and if there's even a chance my padawan could be alive somehow, I must find out.” He tried to stand up off the stretcher, but his knees buckled immediately and he toppled forwards, and only the quick action of the security officer stopped him from hitting the ground.

“Honestly, Qui-Gon,” the other Jedi sighed, and he hadn't tried to grab him, but he had held his hand out, and Anakin wondered if he had done something in the Force. Qui-Gon didn't so much as look at him anyway, which seemed fair. He hadn't sounded very sympathetic, and that wasn't right – when someone died, even if you didn't like them, you should be nice to the people who did. Someone should clearly be looking after Mister Qui-Gon, and maybe that someone should be him.

He took a hesitant step forward but then the door was opening again, and one of the handmaidens – Rabé, he thought – was hurrying straight towards him, concern all over her face. “Ani! Are you alright? The Queen was very worried about you, she wants to see you as soon as possible. She asked me to find you a room in the royal apartments in the meantime.”

Now everyone in the room was looking at him. Or...no. Everyone in the room was looking at him except Mister Qui-Gon who was looking down at the robe he was holding again.

“Um,” he said, biting at his lip. “That's very nice of you, but maybe I should stay with Mister Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon still didn't look up. He didn't even say anything. Maybe he hadn't heard.

“Mister Qui-Gon?” he tried again.

The strange Jedi sighed. “On you go, Anakin. Go with  Rabé and get some rest. You've had a very long day and you've done very well. Now get some sleep and let me worry about Qui-Gon.”

“Okay,” he said, relieved, and he was surprised to see the Jedi turn to look at him as if in shock – was it really so surprising that he hadn't argued? He wasn't that bad, after all.

Rabé was looking at him strangely too, but she held out her hand and he obediently followed.

*

It was dark when he woke from his nightmare, and for a moment he was sure he was alone, and he wished he'd never left home, wished he'd never left Mom, but then he realised that there was someone sitting at the foot of his bed, someone who felt like a bonfire on a cold night, like warmth and light and love, and he scrambled forwards, and Obi-Wan's arms came up and wrapped around him, keeping him safe as he cried.

“There you go, Ani. You're alright. Hush now, dear one. Hush.”

Presently he managed to calm down, at least a little, but he chose to stay in the hug, clinging on in the darkness.

“That was some bad dream you were having. Would you like to talk about it? Or would you like to be distracted from it?”

He thought of the desert, and the sandstorm, and the lonely man walking through it with thousands of dead voices in his head, and he shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it, not ever. And as for distractions, he was beginning to realise - “You're dead,” he blurted out and immediately he wished he hadn't said anything, because everyone knew that if you told a restless spirit what it was then it would be driven back into the desert.

Obi-Wan stayed exactly where he was. “Yes.”

“Oh. Am I still dreaming?”

“Do you think you are?”

He rolled his eyes. “Do all Jedi answer questions with more questions?”

He received a light poke to his nose. “Well, if they do you'll fit right in, won't you?”

“I'm not going to be a Jedi,” he pointed out grumpily, pulling away. “The Council said not to train me.”

Obi-Wan sighed and settled an arm lightly across his shoulders. It felt nice. It felt like they'd done this a thousand times before, even though they'd hardly even spoken. “The future is always in motion. You may find things have changed.”

Right. He swallowed hard. “Because you're not here anymore, yeah? Mister Qui-Gon said he would train me, and the Council said he couldn't because he still had to train you. And now...I don't want to take your place! That's not fair.”

“Perhaps not. But is it fair for you to lose an opportunity just because I got myself killed? And you would not be 'taking my place', Anakin. That isn't possible. One person cannot replace another. We can always make room in our hearts to love new people without rejecting the people we loved before. My time with Qui-Gon is over. Your time may just be beginning; we shall see.”

“Maybe.” He shuffled his feet. “I'm scared. I know I'm not supposed to be, but I don't know what's going to happen to me now, and I'm scared.”

“Not knowing what's going to happen next can be very frightening,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And it's alright to be scared. It's how you handle the fear that matters. Now. There are any number of things that could happen next, so let's start by considering what you want to happen. What do you want, Anakin?”

It was a big question and he thought about it earnestly. “I want to be a Jedi. I want to help people, and I want to come back to Tattoine and free my Mom, and everyone else.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Ending slavery is certainly a worthy goal to work towards, as is freeing your mother.”

He couldn't let that go. “But Mister Qui-Gon said that Jedi don't end slavery.”

There was a pause. “I think you may have misunderstood him. Between you and me, Master Qui-Gon doesn't always consider his words as carefully as he should. We were not on Tattoine to fight against slavery, it's true, and for political reasons the senate has to be careful not to provoke the Hutts. What that means is that the Jedi Order cannot be seen to be fighting to end slavery.” He gave Anakin a slow wink. “Fortunately there are many Jedi missions which go completely unseen. But more to the point there are many ways in which you can work against slavery, Ani, whether you are in the Jedi Order or outside it. Several planetary governments seek to end slavery in Hutt space by diplomatic means, there are many organisations which combat slavers operating within the republic, and there are programs on quite a few planets that offer refuge and retraining to the freed, however that freedom may have come about.”

Oh. “Is Naboo one of them?” he asked, leaning in close, and whether he was a ghost or a dream, Obi-Wan felt alive.

“Not at present,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “But the Naboo are a compassionate people, and that compassion is examplified in their Queen. I think that, perhaps, if someone were to talk to Queen Amidala about the horrors of slavery she would listen, and she would remember what she witnessed on Tattoine, and she would choose to help where she could.”

That sounded almost unbelievable. “I could help....by talking?”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Oh, Anakin, you would be amazed what can be accomplished by talking.” He grew serious again. “And...remember, Naboo considers you a hero for destroying the control ship. A Jedi would never accept a reward for doing their duty, but whatever happens next you were not a member of the Order when you did that, and it certainly was not your duty. If you were offered a reward then I am certain that  Padmé would understand if you requested something that could be easily exchanged for wupiupi.

Oh. He swallowed hard. “I could free my Mom. Now. Not when I'm grown up, or when I finally become a Jedi. I could really go back and buy her and bring her somewhere safe.”

“Yes. You cannot end slavery by buying slaves. But you can free your mother.” There was a pause and Obi-Wan glanced towards the door. “It would seem Padmé can't sleep either. She's drinking hot chocolate in the courtyard. Why don't you go and join her?”

He nodded. Suddenly the future seemed full of so many more possibilities.

[houseisekai]

House Isekai: Shadowbringers - Act 1 Finale: The Warrior of Darkness

House Isekai Shadowbringers AU Masterlist Here

—

Most of House Isekai have finally reunited, with the help of the Ashen Wolves, The former Blue Lions, and Black Eagles class. Leaving Claude and the Investigation Team unaccounted for.

However, as they are discussing the nature behind Sitri’s resurrection and the plans of Lahabrea, they notice something terribly wrong...

—

Outside the Monastery, Present Day...

Byleth walked towards the Monastery alone, the winds blowing back his white hair.

One hand held Sara’s pistol while the other held the Sword of the Creator.

It had been five long years since he saw any members of House Isekai.

He hadn’t even seen the Investigation Team with Claude, even though he knew they were alive.

So much has happened since that first battle at Garreg Mach. He wasn’t even sure what to say when he saw them again.

As he kept walking, he noted something was off.

The wind had just stopped blowing completely.

He looked up into the air and his eyes went wide.

The skies had just went almost completely white.

(Byleth) “Shit.”

He held his weapons tightly and began running towards the Monastery.

...

(Yuki) “U-Um, excuse me.”

Everyone turned to her.

(Megumi) “Yuki-chan? What is it?”

(Yuki) “What time is it?”

Ryuji pulled out his phone and checked.

(Ryuji) “Hm…According to the phone, time in Fodlan’s about 9 in the morning. You forget something to do, Takeya?”

(Yuki) “Should…it be THAT bright outside?”

Everyone paused for a moment before slowly turning to the door behind them.

The outside shone an eerily bright white on the grass, and the wind appeared to stop blowing against the trees.

And the sound of footsteps seemed to be approaching from the main hall.

Megumi got the School-Living Club and Sitri behind her as everyone slowly stood up and reached for their weapons…

The clothes of the Phantom Thieves suddenly switched from their school uniform into their metaverse forms.

(Bernadetta) “Um...D-Don’t your clothes only do that when-?”

(Akechi) “Oh SHIT.”

KABOOOOOM!

[Holminster Switch - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

The wall exploded into chunks of concrete, monstrous four legged creatures cloaked in white erupting from the main hall and reducing the entrance of the mess hall to rubble.

Albedo, Sebas, and Sara and Darkness jumped to the front, hitting back the debris that was about to hit them.

The monsters’ mouths separated into four jaws, looking something akin to a horribly mutilated dog.

Soldiers began to flood in behind the monsters, drawing their weapons.

(Edelgard) “Damn it, the Church found us!”

(Yuri) “Tch, brought the war right to us, didn’t ya?!”

(Dimitri) “It was going to reach you regardless, now quit complaining and help us kill the angels!”

Edelgard, Yuri, and Dimitri ran forward to meet the soldiers head on.

(Minato) “What’s the plan here?!”

(Kazuma) “WE GET THE HELL OUT, THAT’S WHAT!”

Kazuma motioned the others to himself before trying to head out the exit, before more soldiers started to flood in.

(Felix) “That’s just great!”

(Sitri) “What about the entrance near the lake?!-”

Right as they spun around, more angels blocked the doorway.

(Balthus) “Well, IF IT’S FIGHT THEY WANT!”

(Junpei) “Not sure fighting them head on is our best idea, man!”

(Millium) “Then we’ll make an exit out of here! LAMMY!”

Her golem materialized behind her and charged the soldiers, and with one swipe sent them into the air.

(Megumin) “Think our best bet is to move our butts to Abyss!”

(Sharon) “Very well! We will take point!”

Sharon jumped above everyone and towards the entrance along with Doomguy.

More soldiers were on their way from the direction of the classrooms, forcing Doomguy to pull out an assault rifle.

As he began to unload the gun’s ammo into the Church soldiers, everyone began to retreat.

Edelgard, Dimitri, and Yuri sheathed their weapons and quickly got behind the group running away.

(Church Captain) “DON’T LET THEM ESCAPE!”

The Captain turned to the angels and nodded.

(Church Captain) “Cut them off at all entrances!"

The angels nodded and charged away, leaving the soldiers to pursue the others.

The Phantom Thieves, Machias, Crow, Towa, Aigis, and Doomguy covered everyone as they ran from area to area with their guns, dropping soldier after soldier.

(Machias) “This is absolutely insane! Just how much people did they send after us?!”

(Aigis) “According to my scans, there are currently over a hundred-”

(Towa) “I-I DON’T THINK I WANT TO KNOW THAT NUMBER, AIGIS!”

(Ann) “JUST GO AWAAAAAAAAY!”

(Megumin) “W-Wait a second!”

It was then everyone realized that the group was shooting to kill.

(Kazuma) “The hell?! I thought you guys didn’t ki-”

The fallen soldier��s bodies began to twitch violently as they exploded into pure white winged bats.

(Kazuma) “OKAY, WHAT IN THE FUCK?!”

(Constance) “Keep moving, Kazuma!”

Sharon and Doomguy turned the corner to the entrance of Abyss before Hapi realized something.

(Hapi) “Wait a second, we never saw their bodies do that when we were leaving. Crap, does that mean?-”

Hapi’s question was answered when several more of the white bats flew out of Abyss’s entrance.

An angel was there waiting for them, charging full speed.

(Albedo) “OUT OF THE WAY!”

(Darkness) “EXCUSE ME!”

Albedo in an instant transformed into her black armor and shoved the others out her way, Darkness standing beside her.

They both blocked the monster and shoved them both back into the ground.

Its jaws unhinged and was about to devour them before the two of them drew their weapons and cleaved the side jaws, making it recoil back in pain.

Mercedes, Annette, Linhardt, and Dorothea raised their hands and all cast a fire spell, flying straight into the creature’s mouth and setting it ablaze.

It made an almost ear piercing screech as it inelegantly flopped over, immediately lying dead.

(Linhardt) “Hm, these angels appear to die from our attacks than the one we encountered at Enbarr.-”

(Annette) “D-Don’t think now’s a good time to conduct research, Linhardt!”

(Linhardt) “I’d beg to differ but eh, you’re probably right. Gotta waste our energy escaping.”

Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid slashed apart the bats following behind them.

(Sylvain) “LESS TALKING, MORE RUNNING!”

(Ingrid) “I don’t think we can get to the stables in time!”

(Felix) “Not gonna help anyway, there’s too many of us to escape on horseback!”

Petra and Ashe shot two out of the air with a bow as Dedue grabbed one and slammed it into the floot.

(Petra) “Then we are hard of pressed for decisions!”

(Ashe) “All the exits are covered by these things right? Then that means they got us surrounded!”

(Dedue) “And going into Abyss seems like a good way for us to get separated and picked off!”

(Bernadetta) “S-SO WE’RE JUST GOING TO BE TRAPPED HERE THEN?!”

(Caspar) “Calm down, Bernadetta! I’m sure we can punch our way outta here!”

(Ferdinand) “Then they will simply follow us! I am not sure we have the stamina to nor the manpower to stave off an entire army!”

(Miki) “Wait a second, what about Valimar?! He can teleport us out of here with that spirit portal thing!”

(Rean) “We’re going to need a huge area for all of us to get teleported!”

(Sitri) “I-If the Cathedral is still here, we could try that!”

(Aqua) “WHAT?! That’s like, the number one spot they would be in!”

(Hubert) “Then we will need to secure the area inside first.”

(Yuuri) “Besides, the Entrance Hall is too dangerous to push towards there, and if we’re out in the courtyard then we’ll be right in the open!”

(Futaba) “Enemies closing in behind us!”

(Fuuka) “More coming from Abyss’s entrance!”

(Pandora’s Actor) “MMMM, IF WE MAKE OUR CHOICE, WE BEST DO IT NOW!”

(Kazuma) “BRIDGE IT IS, MOVE YOUR ASSES PEOPLE!”

...

Byleth cut down the angel blocking the entrance to the Monastery, and shot down any soldier trying to approach him.

The angel began to fade into nothingness before its energy was absorbed into Byleth.

(Soldier) “I-IT’S THE WARRIOR OF DARKNESS!”

(Soldier 2) “GET THE CAPTAIN, WE’LL TRY TO-”

The soldier was interrupted when his head exploded and fell to the floor.

When the other soldier looked back at Byleth, the sword slashed across his chest, sending him flying back.

Their bodies started twitching as Byleth raised a hand towards them.

His hand shot out a wave of a black and purple aura, completely enveloping them.

The bodies had disintegrated completely, leaving no trace of them on the ground.

Byleth saw the path of destruction from the main hall, to the Mess Hall.

After running to the room, he looked at the debris and bodies left in the group’s wake and followed the trail towards the church.

...

(Narberal) “Lord Ainz, the main hall is secure for now!”

The Pleiades and Sharon killed the soldiers inside and collapsed the other entrances leading inside.

(Ainz) “Understood, DEMIURGE, COCYTUS!”

Demiurge opened his hands and flicked his wrists, summoning a massive flame wall in front of the bridge.

Everyone else made it inside, and Cocytus created a freezing mist cloud in front of their entrance, letting ice shoot up into the air forming another wall.

(Cocytus) “IT IS DONE, LORD AINZ.”

(Shalltear) “Get on with it, Schwarzer!”

(Rean) “Right. Heed my call...

VALIMAR, THE ASHEN KNIGHT!”

Valimar stood up from the forests nearby and flew into the air, towards the Monastery.

Byleth finally cut his way to the bridge when he saw several winged bats pick up a specially dressed Church soldier.

(Byleth) “Damn it!”

He aimed the pistol at it and squeezed the trigger.

More bats flew in to intervene and took the bullet, the bat dropping below the bridge. Byleth fired several more shots only to have the same result.

A massive shadow enveloped Byleth, and he spun around with his sword expecting another angel.

Instead, it was Valimar stopping its flying to float next to Byleth.

(Valimar) Instructor Byleth. Please get on.

Valimar held a hand out for Byleth to hop on, to which Byleth responded with a nod.

(Rean) “Valimar, where are you?!”

(Valimar) Awakener, the Instructor is here.

(Rean) “Instructor- Wait, Instructor Byleth?!”

(Minako) “HEY, INCOMING!”

Minato and Minako put their Evokers to their heads and summoned Thanatos, and it casted a massive sphere around them as the ice wall exploded.

From the mist, a massive angel stepped in, roaring and shaking the entire Cathedral.

It had four legs and jaws like the others, but the tail appeared to be some sort of snake-like creature.

(Yuri) “Tsk, must be that captain!”

(Aqua) “Come on, we’ll kick your ass!”

(Edelgard) “This is bad!”

(Albedo) “What do you mean, with all of us here it stands no chance!”

(Akira) “That’s what we thought at Enbarr too!”

(Rean) “We have no idea what the hell’s empowering them, but an ‘Inquisitor’ or whatever turned into one of these, not even Slayer laid a permanent scratch on it!”

(Megumi) “C-Come again?!”

(Bernadetta) “WHAT CHANCE DO WE HAVE THEN?!”

(Ingrid) “If I die today, I die for Faerghus!”

(Hubert) “And I for the Empire!”

(Kazuma) “REAN, WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR GIANT ROBOT!?”

A massive figure dropped in from the ceiling and landed in front of the angel who was approaching the group.

(Angel) “WHO DARES-...!!! YOU.”

Valimar’s hand went loose as it flew back behind everyone.

(Valimar) Preparing Spirit Portal. Please secure time for me to allow us a safe transportation.

(Byleth’s Voice) “Sara, catch.”

A pistol flew out from the dust and Sara caught it, and a smile grew on her face.

(Sara) “You took your time, didn’t you?”

[Boss Theme #2 - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

(Sitri) “Byleth...!”

(Futaba) “Cheesy reunion dialogue later, enemies are starting to come from behind!”

(Angel) “I WILL NOT PERMIT THE WARRIOR OF DARKNESS TO INTERFERE ANY LONGER! YOU DIE NOW!”

(Byleth) “I’ll worry about the finishing blow, who’s helping me?”

(Cocytus) “I WILL ASSIST YOU, BYLETH.”

(Sharon) “I as well!”

Doomguy nodded as he threw a few of his smaller guns at the School-Living Club and unsheathed his sword.

(Sara) “Well, looks like this is a good way for the staff to reunite!”

(Angelica) “We’ll join in the fight another time, we’ll take care of our kids!”

(Towa) “Good luck, Instructors!”

Byleth couldn’t remember the last time he smiled. Hearing their voices again brought him a calmness he hadn’t experienced in five years.

He also noted Sitri’s presence with them, but those questions will come later. For now-

The angel roared again, readying its tail.

(Byleth) “With me!”

(Sharon) “Understood!”

(Sara) “Got your back!”

(Cocytus) “FOR THE GLORY OF NAZARICK!”

(Doomguy) “...”

The angel spun around and had its snake-like tail lunge at the five.

Cocytus was the only one not to jump out the way, grabbing it with three of his arms.

It spat poison on the floor, which quickly began to spread into a wide area.

Cocytus stabbed it through its head with the arm holding the halberd and moved aside before the poison could reach him.

(Cocytus) “THE TAIL IS DOWN.”

Doomguy didn’t bother to look at the area he was jumping to as his shoulder cannon fired a grenade behind him, setting the poison ablaze.

He jumped onto the angel, which begun to flail wildly, trying to get him off.

Doomguy jammed his wristblade into it, but couldn’t do anything else other than hold on.

Sara kept its attention by repeatedly shooting it in the face with her pistol, which didn’t seem to do much other than annoy the angel.

Byleth appeared to be doing something with his sword and made it glow a black and purple aura.

(Sharon) “Arcus, activate!”

Sharon smiled and used her wires to wrap around the angel’s legs, making it slower and almost trip.

She dashed from leg to leg at high speeds, using her knife to slice open the parts behind its legs, then pulled the wires closer to her, making them shift into the open wounds.

The angel screamed loudly, flailing even more violently and finally flinging Doomguy off.

The wires broke off which made Sharon frown. It was still moving far too much for her liking.

And just as she expected, the wounds began to heal.

(Sharon) “Master Byleth, I trust you have a solution to our problem?”

Byleth didn’t respond and instead held his hand out, shooting out a wave of dark energy at the creature, making it howl in pain as the wounds suddenly stopped regenerating and caused miniature explosions.

He activated the whip function of the sword as he jumped onto the angel, and swung at the head, dicing many parts into pieces.

(Sara) “Arcus, activate!”

Purple lightning shot back and forth around the angel, slicing off entire limbs with Sara finally appearing where the lightning ended, right in front of the beast.

Byleth jumped off as Doomguy took his place, putting his sword between its neck and slicing downwards, severing the head.

The head was still alive and was about to lunge at Sara with its jaws before Cocytus used the top part of his halberd and impaled it to the floor.

Byleth’s eyes glowed red for a moment before deactivating the whip and looking at the angel.

He raised his hand into the air and began to absorb the light from the angel.

It then was enveloped by a dark aura which covered the floor they were standing in, making everyone take a step back.

When the dark aura disappeared, the angel was completely gone. Even the head Cocytus had impaled left no trace of any gore.

(Cocytus) “HMPH. I CANNOT HELP BUT FEEL A LITTLE DISAPPOINTED AFTER WHAT WAS SAID ABOUT THE LAST ENCOUNTER WITH ONE OF THESE.”

Doomguy shrugged in response as Sharon dusted off her dress.

(Sara) “Well, this one didn’t seem to be an inquisitor. If it weren’t for Byleth, I’m not sure we could’ve killed it.”

She smiled and turned to face him.

(Sara) “Speaking of which-”

That smile went away when she realized Byleth was heavily panting and on one knee.

(Sara) “Crap, Byleth!”

The four ran over to him and helped him up.

(Sara) “Rean, status?”

Rean sliced apart the last bat with his tachi and took a quick look around.

(Rean) “Now’s a great time to go!”

(Valimar) Opening Spirit Portal. Destination required.

(Dimitri) “Take us to Derdriu!”

(Rean) “Right, what Dimitri said!”

(Valimar) Acknowledged. Beginning transport now.

Everyone in the room was quickly teleported away from Garreg Mach.

Soldiers flooded into the room alongside the lesser angels but saw no trace of anyone left.

(Soldier) “W-What happened? I thought the captain was here?”

(Soldier) “Goddess save us...!”

They saw several burn marks on the ground that wasn’t caused by fire. Some of the energy was still emanating off and that's when they came to the conclusion:

(Soldier) “The Warrior of Darkness is with House Isekai!”

Several Agarthans were watching from a distance as the soldiers began to move out of Garreg Mach. The men and women in black robes looked at each other.

(Agarthan) “This is going to be a problem...”

...

Zanado, the Red Canyon, Present Day...

[Sands of Amber - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers]

Hilda yawned as she exited the tent she was sleeping in.

(Hilda) “Ugh, we gotta wake up so early...”

The skies hadn’t even turned blue yet and was still a crimson red over the horizon. Hilda groaned as Marianne exited the same tent and stretched.

(Marianne) “Well, at least we’ll just be exploring today right?”

Hilda rolled her eyes as she picked up her axe.

(Hilda) “Psh, my butt. Claude always says that and it ALWAYS escalates into a skirmish.”

The two walked beside each other as they moved down the resting area and towards the rest of the group.

Naoto and Rise were already up, staring at the same thing.

(Rise) “My Persona still isn’t picking anything up.”

(Naoto) “That can’t be right. Perhaps we need to-...Oh, good morning.”

(Marianne) “Hello. Still nothing?”

(Rise) “Not a thing. I still can’t believe none of us ever noticed this beforehand during the academy!”

(Hilda) “Well, I don’t think it was there to begin with...”

Hilda put her hands on her hips as she examined it.

The Golden Deer and Investigation Team had set up camp to examine a massive tower that went up into the sky, something that definitely wasn’t there before.

Or, maybe it was. Every time they stared at the tower, their memory got a bit fuzzy.

The tower stood out from the rest of the area, looking half natural formation, and half man-made. It had glowing blue lines throughout the entire structure.

Records seemed to indicate it had been there prior, yet earlier in the year when the Houses were sent to this canyon, it wasn’t present. Nor was it present during the previous five years. 

Or, at the very least no one was aware of its existence until just recently.

(Marianne) “Perhaps we should wait for everyone else to wake up?”

(Claude) “Wow, Hilda up early. Didn’t think that was possible.”

Claude tossed everyone a canteen of water as he looked up at the tower.

(Hilda) “Speak for yourself! You used to sleep in all the time back in Garreg Mach!”

(Claude) “Well, I like to think I’m a changed man. Though sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Growing up sucks.”

His smile faded as he continued to examine the tower.

(Claude) “...Ugh, looking at this is just giving me a headache.”

(Naoto) “Perhaps this tower is messing with our memories and causing us to perceive things differently?”

(Claude) “Too early to tell, Naoto. And uh, little too early to start conspiring when we haven’t even gone inside the thing yet.”

When he looked at Naoto and Rise, another thing was starting to give him a headache.

They had been here for at least 3 years, yet not a single one of the Investigation Team showed any signs of having aged.

A velvet door appeared next to them with Yu and that strange girl Marie stepping out.

(Yu) “Mornin’.”

(Marie) “...Hey.”

(Rise) “Any luck, senpai?”

(Yu) “No. Margaret, Theodore, Elizabeth, and Lavenza had no idea what it was either.”

Yu held out the sample from the tower and Naoto put it near the crates.

(Marie) “Most we’re really able to tell is it’s definitely from this world. Other than that, Iunno.”

(Claude) “Then we’re really left with the worst plan we got...”

He sighed as he turned to the others.

(Claude) “Let’s get everyone up and grab some grub. After that, we’re going inside.”

Everyone nodded and turned around back to camp. Claude was about to follow them when-

“I see. Right until the very end, I've read this whole thing terribly wrong... All my hopes have fallen to ash...” 

Claude first checked his throat. He was positive that he hadn’t spoken, yet...

He then looked behind him, and there was nothing other than a few crates facing the tower.

That was definitely his voice he heard clear as day, but there was no one around him.

(Claude) “The hell...?”

Shaking his head, sure he hadn’t gotten enough sleep and went back with the others.

Town outside Derdriu territory...

[Return of the Night - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

The townspeople watched from their windows as the massive ball of light began pulsating and eventually flickered out, revealing a group of people they had never seen before materialize into existence.

(Valimar) Apologies Awakener. This is as close as I am able to get.

(Yuri) “Huh? Why can’t you get us into the city directly?”

(Valimar) I cannot teleport anywhere without the magical currents in the area being high enough.

(Kazuma) “So, you just happened to teleport us in the middle of some backwoods town and had us scare the shit out of everyone here?”

(Megumi) “W-What about Byleth? I think he’s injured!”

(Byleth) “N-No, I’m not...just...so...tired.”

Byleth gently shoved off Sara and Doomguy’s arm and stood on his own.

It was then everyone realized what was different about Byleth.

He looked more jaded than anything, but what stuck out most was his white hair.

It was some form of green the last time they saw him, but...

(Byleth) “It’s good to see all of you again.”

Byleth made a weak smile, and Megumi was the first to hug him.

(Megumi) “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

She began to cry as Byleth hugged her back.

(Byleth) “Words cannot describe how relieved I am to see everyone okay.”

(Sara) “Oh come on, don’t start crying too. You might make me tear up too.”

(Rean) “Welcome back, Instructor!”

(Yuuri) “It must have been a long wait, Byleth-sensei!”

(Minato) “It’s only been half a year and that’s already been too long.”

(Minako) “We almost got the whole gang together!”

(Akira) “Nice to see you again.”

Dimitri and Edelgard wanted to say something, but thought it best to keep quiet for now. The Black Eagles and Blue Lions watched the class all speak to each other again. 

House Isekai was as close as one could be, and seeing almost everyone reunited was a sight for sore eyes.

It reminded them of a certain missing House that could really make this feel like a proper reunion...

Sitri wiped away some tears, finally getting to see her son all grown up.

Megumi let go and motioned towards Sitri, and the two finally met face to face.

(Sitri) “Hello, Byleth.”

(Byleth) “Si...Sitri?”

She slowly reached out her hands, and Byleth grabbed hers.

Both of them made the same response, their eyes going wide.

(Sitri) “Look at you, hah...You’re all grown up...!”

Some of the group began sniffing and wiping their eyes but the rest smiled as they watched.

(Hapi) “Kiiinda feels like we’re intruding here.”

(Yuri) “Shut up, you’ll ruin the moment.”

(Balthus) “Nah, she doesn’t mean on Byleth and Sitri, dumbass. I meant the fact we’re doing this in the middle of a town.”

(Ainz) “Wait a second, Valimar said that he can only teleport us to areas with high magical energies. What’s so special about this town?”

(???) “Oh nothing. I just made enough energy to where you’ll teleport here.”

[Bedlam’s Brink - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers]

Everyone turned around to see Lahabrea leaning against a nearby building.

Sitri put Byleth behind her as everyone had a hand over their weapons.

(Lahabrea) “Oh, spare me the dramatics, would you?”

He got off the wall and looked at the group standing.

(Lahabrea) “And take a look at this! At...!....A-At...”

Lahabrea was cut off as he reached for his head.

(Kazuma) “...The hell is he-AGH, FUCK!”

Kazuma and his group were the first to reach for their heads, wincing in pain.

The next was the Phantom Thieves, Class VII, the School-Living Club, S.E.E.S, then the denizens of Nazarick.

Byleth and the Blue Lions and Black Eagles quickly followed, leaving Sitri the only one unaffected.

After a few moments, Byleth collapsed to the ground while Lahabrea fell to one knee.

(Sitri) “BYLETH!”

Lahabrea shook it off and looked back up to see everyone slowly recovering.

(Rean) “What...What was that?!”

(Fie) “Ugh, nearly split my head open...”

(Elliot) “Um...W-Was I the only one who heard voices during that?”

(Mare) “You too?!”

(Albedo) “That voice was my own, it was-Ugh...!”

(Yukari) “I don’t remember saying those things at all, yet...”

(Ken) “C-Clear as day? Yeah, same here.”

(Ryuji) “Hey, asshole! What the ‘eff’s going on with...us?”

Lahabrea slowly got up look back at everyone.

(Morgana) “You better have a good explanation of what you did to us!”

(Lahabrea) “...”

(Kurumi) “Tch, what?! Nothing funny to say now? No sass in ya all of a sudden?!”

(Emma) “Guys, he’s not alone!”

Everyone looked at Emma then back at Lahabrea who was still standing there, staring at them.

(Kazuma) “Sold us out to the Agarthan’s didn’t you?! Made them put shit in our heads!”

(Darkness) “You will pay for that, fiend!”

She was the first to draw her weapon, and the rest followed suit.

(Ainz) “Hang on a moment.”

Ainz finally took the time to scan Lahabrea with a magic detection spell.

As he was doing so, Megumi stepped forth.

(Megumi) “You’re putting a lot of time into people you’re supposed to hate. No more dodging the question, who are you, and why are you so invested in us fighting the Church and the Those who Slither?!”

(Minato) “Give us another stupid answer, and you won’t like what happens!”

...

(Lahabrea) “...They deserve to know.”

(Everyone) ?

(Lahabrea) “...Yes, I know what might happen if we do.”

(Towa) “Why is he just talking to himse-”

It was then Towa noticed the faces on Emma and Aqua. Megumin was quick to notice what she was looking at and caught on.

(Megumin) “Eh? Aqua?”

Kazuma had the same face as well. Akira, Morgana, Minato, Minako, all of Nazarick, Doomguy, and Sitri included.

(Edelgard) “What’s happening to them?”

(Dimitri) “Can someone give an explanation or-”

(Kazuma) “What. The. Fuck.”

[More than Truth - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers]

(Sothis?) “...Hello, everyone.”

She awkwardly rubbed the back of her head.

(Sothis?) “I forgot that not everyone can see me.”

Sothis had appeared next to Lahabrea, though she was wearing slightly more ragged and darker clothes.

Compared to the normal Sothis, she had a dark red dress and looked slightly older and more tired, but it was still undoubtedly Sothis.

(Albedo) “What sort of trickery is this?!”

(Emma) “S-Sothis was infused into Byleth such a long time ago! How are you here?”

(Aqua) “No...No! You’re not Sothis! This is some sort of magic that-”

(Lahabrea) “Would the Agarthans really go through the lengths to make an exact copy of Sothis that only certain offworlders can see, Aqua?”

By the tone of his voice, he had dropped any pretense of disguising his voice.

He took a deep sigh and shook his head.

(Lahabrea) “No...You and all of House Isekai have every right to doubt our motives.”

(Yuki) “T-That voice...”

Everyone started listening closely and realized what Yuki was hearing.

(Lahabrea) “Good, I can end this charade. Felt annoying as hell to keep up.”

Lahabrea reached for his mask and slowly took it off, putting the hood down and revealing his full face.

Everyone lowered their weapons, some gasped while some held their breath.

Sharon’s smile had went away a while ago but this was the first time anyone had seen her shocked.

Doomguy took off his helmet for a brief moment to make sure his visor wasn’t acting up, and saw the look of utter confusion on his face as well.

(Lahabrea?) “Sothis, go ahead and make yourself visible to everyone.”

Sothis nodded and did as he asked, making most of everyone jump.

(Sitri) “You’re...also Byleth? How is that possible?!”

(Kazuma) “Hey, don’t fall for it! The Agarthans did some crazy shit with Monica and Thomas way back! This has got to be the same thing now!”

(Sothis?) “Kazuma, it’s-”

Sothis floated towards Kazuma, but everyone quickly went back on guard.

(Kazuma) “Back off, asshole! You aren’t Sothis! This is some really clever trick so you can stab us in the back!”

Lahabrea looked at the Sword of the Creator and grabbed it.

(Alisa) “S-SITRI! GET AWAY FROM HIM!”

Megumi got in front of Sitri and stretched her arms wide.

Lahabrea motioned a hand upwards, motioning them to wait.

(Crow) “Nice try, that thing only responds to people with a crest of!-”

The sword glowed in response, activating in the exact same way as if Byleth held it.

(Crow) “...Flames...”

(Ainz) “Everyone...That is Byleth and Sothis.”

(Lahabrea?) “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at this reaction...”

He looked among the group, but all he felt were the eyes of complete strangers.

(Sothis?) “I told you this would’ve happened...”

(Lahabrea?) “I promise, I will answer any question you have. For now, let’s get to Derdriu and get your Byleth some rest.”

(Rean) “...Fine.”

Rean was the first to sheathe his Tachi, and Valimar stood up and began to walk with him.

Class VII eventually followed, then the rest of the group.

(Lahabrea?) “...”

(Sothis?) “I told you they wouldn’t remember us. They never do.”

(Lahabrea?) sigh “...I know, Sothis. I know.”

He put on his mask and hood again and followed behind everyone, Sothis floating behind.

(Lahabrea) “Hopefully in due time, they’ll remember us.”

PART 4: END

---

[Escape - Darling in the FranXX OST]

The forecasted rain wets us

What should I say to you, as you tremble? My soaked blazer is cold and heavy

I feel as helpless as a chick who’s left its cage. I felt that my dreams were on the other side of the heavy clouds

I digested only the sweet pain that spread in my chest

I wonder if it’d be better if I’d never met you

Hey, I can’t even see the stars

Hey, my tears won’t fall either

---

EPILOGUE:

The first thing anyone would notice stepping into the Hearing Chamber was that it was a blinding white.

The floors, the wall, and even the guards were dressed head to toe in white, with gold accents highlighting the armor and edges of the room.

Catherine never liked this room much, but whatever made Rhea happy. She guessed.

Catherine knelt down before Rhea, joined in by Alois, Shamir, Seteth, Flayn, and Cyril.

(Cyril) “Lady Seiros, the Warrior of Darkness has made a reappearance at Garreg Mach Monastery.”

(Rhea) “And?”

(Cyril) “...He has rejoined House Isekai. It would seem that this third party is making its move.”

Rhea frowned and looked back at her loyal subjects.

(Rhea) “Then we will make ours as well. Do not fail me, Inquisitors...”

...

Claude took a deep breath, opening the door to the tower.

The Golden Deer and the Investigation Team stood behind him, weapons at the ready.

(Yosuke) “Dude, you REALLY didn’t have any other plan than just walk through the front door?”

(Teddie) “This is a very terrible idea!”

(Leonie) “...No bear pun?”

(Teddie) “NO, CAUSE THIS IS A TERRIBLE PLAN!”

(Chie) “Daaamn, didn’t think I’d ever hear that!”

(Lorenz) “I, for once, agree with Teddie.”

(Lysithea) “And I didn’t think I’d hear THAT.”

(Yu) “Everyone keep quiet and...listen...?”

“You’re not me!” “The dreams of men don't amount to much. Sorry, but... it's up to you now.”

The voices flooding in gradually grew louder and louder, everyone being able to recognize their voice as they stood there.

(Claude) “What in the hell did we just find...?!”

...

Everyone continued walking towards Derdriu silently, unable to make words of any kind after what they just saw.

Lahabrea and Sothis continued to stay behind, unable to approach any of them.

(Sothis?) “So, what do you plan to tell them when they ask?”

(Lahabrea?) “The truth. They deserve to know everything...Even everything that I’ve done.”

He looked at his hand and clenched it into a fist.

(Lahabrea?) “...How many years have come and gone, since that day, Sothis?”

Looking back up, he saw House Isekai, the Black Eagles, and Blue Lions standing side by side.

(Lahabrea?) “How many years have we waited for this moment?”

Sitri was next to Byleth with the Pleiades carrying him.

(Lahabrea?) “For the House that stood alone against the storm?”

(Sothis?) “I suppose you’re not wrong. What about the Sothis of this time?”

(Lahabrea?) “I’m sure she’s watching us as we speak.”

Lahabrea’s attention turned to Sitri.

(Lahabrea?) “Even if they don’t know it.”

ACT 1: ENDED

[Shadowbringers - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

One brings shadow, one brings light Two-toned echoes tumbling through time

Threescore wasted, ten cast aside Four-fold knowing, no end in sight

One brings shadow, one brings light One dark future no one survives

On their shadows, away we fly

The road that we walk

Is lost in the flood

Here proud angels bathe in

Their wages of blood

At this, the world's end, do we cast off tomorrow

One brings shadow, one brings light To this riddle all souls are tied

Brief our moments, brazen and bright Forged in fury, tempered in ice

Hindmost devils, early to rise Sing come twilight, sleep when they die

Heaven's banquet leavened with lies Sating honor, envy, and pride

One brings shadow, one brings light

Run from the light

Authors of our fates

Orchestrate our fall from grace

Poorest players on the stage

Our defiance drives us straight to the edge

A reflection in the glass

Recollections of our past

Swift as darkness, cold as ash

Far beyond this dream of paradise lost

HOME

RIDING HOME

DYING HOPE HOLD ONTO HOPE

HOME

RIDING HOME

HOME, RIDING HOME HOPE, FINDING HOPE

One brings shadow, one brings light One more chapter we've yet to write

Want for nothing, nothing denied Wand'ring ended, futures aligned

One brings shadow, one brings light One brings shadow, one brings light

You are the light 

We fall

We fall

We fall

We fall unto the end

ONE WORLD’S END (The end)

OUR WORLD’S END (The end)

WE (Our world)

END (We won’t end)

I am shadow, I am the light 

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 12

My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 12 of RWBY Volume 8, “Creation”

SPOILERS BELOW:

Is it just me, or do Nora’s scars seems somewhat faded?

My god, it’s true. Ironwood actually has a gun-gun.

I may have been too quick to lump Vine in with Harriet. He might have some remorse in him after all. Neither he nor Elm are out of the doghouse, though.

I have to admit, my heart sunk for a quick second when Winter went back to Ironwood’s side. I mean, I knew she was still defecting, I was just thinking maybe we called it prematurely.

I love that they wasted no time drawing out the reveals of the things the fans saw coming a mile away. Emerald tricking Ironwood, Winter turning on him, Marrow NOT being in the brig, it all happens so fast and I love it.

NEW SONG!

If I had one complaint about this episode, it’s that I wish we had gotten a more proper immediate reaction from Ironwood’s concerning Winter’s defection. There’s a brief moment where he realizes it and starts to look angry, but it’s interrupted Nora’s hammer acquainting itself with his face that it doesn’t process properly. Hopefully we get more of his thoughts on it later.

Winter’s final blow was a straight up Zantetsuken from Final Fantasy and I LOVE IT!!!

Ah, the ol’ “execute the plan then flasback to it’s formation” edit. The classics truly never go out of style.

Ah, so the people Qrow and Robyn saw in the elevator were Marrow and Winter. To the surprise of absolutely frikkin’ nobody.

So the Spirit of the Staff is a dude? Well, there goes my theory concerning Oz and Salem’s children.

Once again, Whitley comes in clutch. I’m so proud of you, my dude.

All right, confession time, I have no idea who Ambrosius is based off of. I was hoping it would be obvious once we learned his name, but I’m completely drawing a blank. It sounds like it’s derived from ambrosia, so my mind’s going Greek, but I can’t really make any real connections past that. Well, moving past that-

OH NO HE’S HOT!!!

Oz wasn’t lying when he said Ambrosius is quite the character. I am in love with his personality. After meeting both him and Jinn, I am now really excited to meet the Spirits in the Sword and Crown

I’ll admit, it took me a couple of rewatches to fully understand what they were trying to do with Penny. So, basically, she just exists as a soul, now? That’s about to get existential real quick.

Jaune remains an absolute dork and we love him for it.

Well, that cutoff was perfectly timed. You really know how to be cruel, don’t you Watts?

Is...is Winter implying that if it were up to her, she would have left Jacques to die? Damn, girl, that’s cold. Valid, but cold.

Ooh, I like the subtle design differences between Human!Penny and Android!Penny. The gloves and leggings were obvious, but her bow and neck-brace-thing are now just normal cloth rather than robotic. Very well done.

Yay! Penny gets all the hugs! I love how, while Weiss and Yang politely accommodate her, Blake enthusiastically returns it.

So, umm, just how much of this did they have ready before coming here? Ironwood only gave them an hour and they spent several minutes of that angsting before coming up with this plan. Seems very conveniently thought out.

The central location looks like a Dissidia map, and I love it. It is no accident that I’ve been saying that a lot this episode.

Well, I mean, now somebody HAS to fall. You can’t just give a warning like that and then not have it happen, especially when you don’t elaborate on what happens if you do.

Not gonna lie, I saw the dark skinned girl with a beret in front of Cinder and for a second thought it was Ciel. Sadly, I was mistaken.

Cinder should wear more stealth cloaks. She looks boss in them.

Ok, I’ve never heard of Ambrosius’s VA, and it appears he’s got very few credits under his belt, which really makes his performance here all that more impressive. Dude knocked it out of the park.

GAAAAH, only two more episodes left, and it looks like we’re priming to have our final battle in a location straight out of an RPG’s final dungeon! This is almost too hype!

[mhdiaries]

Haunted – Student Spirits Kiyomi Haunterly Diary

30/04

I had one of those dreams last night where I was running like I was a solid. It was so liberating to feel the grass on my toes and the hard surface of the ground with each step I took. The clouds were so far above me that I could not touch them, and I had to go around obstacles instead of over or through them. Then the dream changed, and I was standing in a big room with many other solids, and there was music and dancing and beautiful party dresses, and I woke up. I must have been dream flying, because I was hovering above our house. I floated back down to my bedroom and tried to go back to sleep in hopes of rejoining the party in my dream, but I could not. I just floated there, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember every detail. I liked the feeling of being in the middle of the party instead of quietly watching from the sidelines. I suppose I must have been trying harder than I realized to reconnect to the dream world, because something unexpected and remarkable happened. A tiny hole opened above me – not in the roof – but in the air. Light from another world poured into my room like reality had sprung a leak. Had I just opened a portal into the dream world? I gasped, lost concentration, and it was gone. I do not know what happened or how, but I must find out.

01/05

Today as I was passing through the halls and trying to avoid breaking one of Principal Revenant’s many rules, I heard a voice above me say, “Hey Kiyomi, why so blue?” I looked up to see Porter floating on his back, balancing a spray can of ghost paint on one finger. I can never tell if Porter is teasing or being serious, but I glanced down at my hands, and they were indeed the color of a blue funk; although they were quickly taking on a purplish tinge as scarlet embarrassment washed over me. Porter floated down and passed down the hall next to me. “You’ve really been stuck on cerulean lately – what’s up with that?” How could I tell him that I was sad because of a dream? So instead I told him that I was surprised he even noticed me at all. He laughed and said, “I’m an artist and you have colorful personalities – why wouldn’t I notice you?” I am afraid I blushed again, but Porter pretended not to notice as he turned and painted a mustache on a poster of Principal Revenant. I asked if he was afraid of getting in trouble. “Nah, it’ll disappear before she sees it, although boo knows – she might like it.” I cannot tell why I felt at that moment that I could trust him – but I did – so I asked if he ever wanted to be something other than what he was. I thought he might laugh at me, but he got a serious look on his face instead. “Sometimes I think unlife would be easier if I was just a regular ghost, if there really is such a thing. But if I was just a regular ghost I wouldn’t be able to do this.” Then Porter rose to the ceiling, and using a can of paint in each hand, wrote:

A quiet presence

Kiyomi Haunterly ghost

In colors beauty speaks

It was the nicest thing any ghost has ever done for me, and I stood there looking up at it until the ghost paint faded away. I could hear Porter laughing as he disappeared through a wall. “That’s a lovely shade of blush you have on.” Well, at least there wasn’t enough blue left to turn it purple.

03/05

Tonight I successfully opened another portal. This time I was able to hold it open a little longer, but instead of light shining through I heard the sound of laughter. It was not the mocking laughter of someone who is happy at your misfortune, but the genuine laughter of friends. I wanted to look through to see who was making such a joyful noise. Unfortunately, my kaiju woke up and roared like he needed to go out, so I lost concentration and the portal closed again. I must learn more about this ability, though I dare not tell or risk asking any ghost. I shall go tomorrow to the library and find out what there is to know, if there is something to know.

04/05

Oh my ghost. I copied this page on portals from a reference book in the library:

There are only three known ways to travel between the ghost world and the world of solids. The first – and it all practicality, only way – available to the majority of ghosts is to secure passage on one of the reaper vessels that navigate the currents of light, which in certain places link the two worlds. This is by far the most reliable method, although final reservations must be made at least a day in advance, as float-up passengers are always turned away.

The second way is also via reaper, as their scythes have the power to slice through the unseen barrier that separates the two worlds. Reapers do not, however, make outward-bound trips with passengers.

The third and final way is a power seemingly unique to the infamous “Red Lady.” Although she never elaborated how her powers work, it is theorized that she had the ability to open a portal to any place in the solid world by simply willing it. This theory remains unproven mainly because, when asked how she did it, the Red Lady’s reply was, “Wouldn’t boo like to know?”

I haven’t been opening portals to the dream world – I’ve been opening them to the solid world. What do I do now? Will I become the next Red Lady?

06/05

It has not taken long for curiosity to sweep aside any haunting worries of becoming the next Red Lady. I am not her, I am me. So now, after many hours of practice, I can open a portal large enough to see through, and can keep it open even if I become distracted. I have been watching a group of monster ghouls who seem to be very close, and for whom friendship plays a large role in their unlives. I am most fascinated by a vampire ghoul called Draculaura. I think her fashion sense is… totes adorbs… and her vocabulary, while strange to my ears, is simply put… fun. I have even started using little bits of it in my everyday speech, and I have made several of my school mates genuinely laugh out loud. This is strange to me, and I believe to them as well, as they have remarked, “Kiyomi, we had no idea you were so funny – where do you come up with this stuff?” I simply tell them that I have a good teacher, and then leave them wondering who that might be.

08/05

I opened a portal today and what – or rather who – I saw caused me to break out in ghost bumps. It happened like this: Draculaura was showing off a new pair of shoes. I was fascinated by their design, so much so that I did not pay attention to anyone or anything else around me. That is when I heard Draculaura say, “Spectra! Check out my new purchase. Aren’t they just to un-die for?” Spectra Vondergeist! She and I had been beast friends before she left the ghost world for the solid. I quickly closed the portal hoping she had not seen me. Perhaps I am being selfish, but I do not wish any ghost or solid to know about my newfound ability. It is my secret alone, at least for now.

10/05

I have taken much courage from haunting out with my “friend” Draculaura. I have already begun to use some of her words, and now I think I should like to imitate her style. That is why I journeyed to the phantom island of Hy Brasil today in order to shop at the fashion markets there, which are… totes off the chain. My family is friends with the captain of a ghost yacht, and since he was taking his own family over, I asked if I might go along. The island was already scary busy by the time we arrived, and I was orange with expectation. I promised to meet everyone back at the yacht by sundown and then faded into the crowd. The first thing I did was head straight to where the fashion vendors were selling their wares. There were fabrics in more colors than even I could feel! I felt unalive in a way that I never had before, and for the first time in my unlife, being anonymous didn’t make me shy. It made me bold. I even bargained with some of the sellers to get a better price. Before I would buy anything, though, I would duck into a dressing room and haunt in on Draculaura and the ghouls to try and match the fashions they were wearing. I only saw one other ghost that I knew, and that was River Styxx, but I saw her on the other side of a crowded square, and I was able to vanish from sight before she saw me again. I like River, she has always been very kind to me, but I wanted this to be my day. Maybe that was selfish of me, but it was how I felt at that moment. The day ended too soon, and before I knew it we were casting off and motoring out of the harbor. On the way to Hy Brasil I stayed in my cabin. On the way back I stood on the bow. As the wind blew through my hair, I knew I was going to do something bold with my unlife. I cannot wait to begin.