#in a way i feel lonely but at the same time quite literally everyone here sucks so much.

[autosarcophagy-avaritia]

stupid how many breakdowns ive had in the time of having this acc and them all turning out fine

[adyophene]

lucifer x husk is something i never knew i needed and as a multishipper im screaming

literally. king of hell x some alcoholic furry guy

i love them i need to know how they wouldve met, fallen for each other and started dating. and how much thatd piss alastor off

Ooh I am so happy other people are enjoying this pair as much as I am! I've gotten a few asks about my headcanons for them, and I am happy to blab on and on. Fair warning. This is gunna be a long and rambling essay.

I'm gunna put it all under a readmore, just cause I want to insert the art I've done of them so far, since I've been half-heartedly trying to tell a visual story through the doodles.

Okay. On we go!

How they met;

We did see them technically meet in the show, where they shared their singular canon piece of dialogue, which was just Husk saying 'hey'. And then in the finale where we see a literal split second moment of Lucifer holding Husk's arm.

(also seeing the sweet looks huskerdust is giving each other here just makes me feel so delulu for writing this all, but crackships are silly by definition, so lets get back to the lucihusk) For me, what I imagined, is after the Hotel is finished its rebuilding, that is when Husk and Lucifer finally actually meet in a proper manner. I think Lucifer would be trying to make a good impression on all Charlie's friends at this point, endeared to all of them from their actions during the finale. Unfortunately, I think he is also the King of Bad First Impressions.

[Note. I think at this point Lucifer wouldn't even remember Husk's name quite yet. I think he would call him 'Keekee' ( by accident) or 'Dusk' (confidently incorrect) or just be like "Hey!.... Uh... You?" until Charlie or Vaggie finally corrected him. ]

Husk, on the other hand, I feel like maybe wouldn't gel with Lucifer right away. Wouldn't hate him, but also maybe not be enamored with him right away. Same as Lucifer, maybe he would have sweetened on him a bit through the hotel's rebuilding, but I think they'd start out at very neutral feelings. Maybe a vague sense of 'He's okay, but I don't know if we will really get along.'

Despite this, Lucifer is persistent, and he's going to be everyone's (except maybe Al, unless they start getting along by s2) buddy. He'd start hanging around the bar and participate in the redemption exercises.

Now, we know Lucifer struggles with depression, and I think he would be trying real hard to mask anything going on during this time. They defeated Adam! They rebuilt the Hotel! He believes in Charlie's dream, and he's more involved with her life and other people than he has been for years.

His only issue being Husk sees right through it, both because Husk is perceptive, but also because even the King of Hell can't help but have a lonely night or two at the bar where he ends up venting about his divorce and subsequent lingering loneliness.

[snapcube ref aside, )I really do think Husk would start to feel more positively toward Lucifer after Luci would drop the act somewhat. That they could bond over feeling both at their lowest of lows, while also being to admit that things seem to be getting better!

This would be about the point that I imagine Lucifer developing more romantic feelings! Husk would be a bit less prickly, and Luci would just absolutely eat up any and all positive interactions they'd have. I like to picture a lot of little shows of care at the this point, like Husk memorizing what Lucifer likes and even making up 'fun' drinks just to try and cheer the guy up. And Lucifer would fun a fun game in trying to get the grumpy cat to smile, and just, lighting up himself any time he was successful.

And that culminating into the two of them making each other laugh, with Alastor being an easy butt of the jokes, and a good way for Husk, himself, to finally get a chance to vent. I think Lucifer would be one of the only 'safe' options for Husk to do that with, in just so far as Al can't really threaten Lucifer, and Lucifer already sees Al as a bit of a manipulative bastard.

Falling for each other; At this point, Lucifer would start being a bit more caring toward Husk, though with that wonderful, oblivious flair of his. I don't think Lucifer himself would realize he'd have a crush up until he'd start feeling protective or jealous over Husk, and it would really throw him for a loop at first.

Because fake dating is one of my all-time favorite tropes, I have always had a idea for a fanfic (or comic) that I haven't gotten around to yet, based around Lilith coming back, and Lucifer panickily asking Husk to pretend to be his boyfriend, so he can appear well adjusted/completely over her. Of course the whole thing would backfire, as Lilith would see through it (as Lucifer wouldn't be as good of an actor as he'd think), and that Husk would end up kind of feeling hurt by the whole thing.

Husk, who'd go along with the plot with an eyeroll, would find himself seizing up through the whole fake date/encounter. Would find weird, sudden emotions bubbling up and absolutely hating it.

I don't think that man would think about the class difference between him and Lucifer up until someone would say something about it, maybe Lucifer himself trying to rationalize the (at this time still fake) relationship to Lilith. Now, Husk feels uneasy about the whole thing and ends up drinking heavily the whole night so he doesn't have to think about feelings. (Blitz and Stolas who? Ahaha. fuck.) Meanwhile, while the date would be fake, I think Lucifer would really rather like having Husk on his arm and feeling like he'd have a love-life again, while also not really getting why Husk's mood would be getting worse throughout the night. I think they'd still end up on good terms, but both of them would have their feelings in a jumble, and Husk would not like it. (he thinks he's lost the ability to love, after all)

I think somewhere at this point, as they are starting to develop feelings for one another, is when Lucifer finally starts really realizing how tied to Alastor Husk is, and he starts to make it everyone's problem. I do think Al and Lucifer would stay snarky at each other this whole time, but that it'd only get worse, as Al would poke back since he'd find Lu's over reactions funny.

I also think Al would be maybe the last person to realize anything romantic would be brewing between Lucifer and Husk, and he'd just think it'd be a purely platonic thing.

Beyond just bitching about Alastor, Lucifer would really be ramping up his attention towards Husk too. Fully in that 'puppylove/crush' stage, and trying his darndest to make Husk feel good and special. Husk would be resistant to it all, thinking it would just be Lucifer rebounding hard, and not wanting to get wrapped up in Morningstar family drama when he could happily (miserably) keep his head down and just keep drinking the days away.

But then Lucifer would find out about Husk's love of stage magic, and his history as a performer, and it'd be all over for the catman. It would become Luci's new pet project to rope Husk into some joyful self-expression, and after a song and dance number's worth of convincing, Husk would start to come around. I have to post all these images now cause- I drew them with the intention of mimicking a musical number! Husk starting off as a bit resistant before jumping in whole heartedly, and Lucifer overexcitedly dragging him along throughout the music number, hyping him up and just all around being smitten.

And this is where Husk would start really falling. Getting swept up in indulging his favorite, least destructive hobby, and having someone who absolutely loves it to bond with. Especially when it would be over. When they would just settle down and talk, and laugh, and bond over what they love about performing. The spectacle, the audience, the love of the craft. Its about the comradery!!!

@belladonazeppole wrote a wonderful series of fanfics based off these pictures, as well as the songs from 'The Greatest Showman' that really fit the ship! I would be remiss to not mention them here, because Bella and their fics are just wonderful!

How they started dating;

Now. Don't think just cause they both caught feelings for each other, that they'd immediately admit to it. No. I think both of them would drag their heels. I don't think Husk would admit to them at all, without some outside force effecting it. I think he'd stubbornly try to ignore the crush or drink it away, rather than let his heart become vulnerable to anymore damage.

Meanwhile, Lucifer would be struggling between his feelings for Husk and Lilith. (In the actual canon, I do think they might try to rekindle things, depending on what kind of person Lilith turns out to be, but I digress.) Part of him would be so swept up in a giddy kind of excitement, while the other would be set firmly in the camp of 'this is a bad idea, this won't work out, just look at what happened to your last relationship'. It wouldn't stop him from being outwardly more and more affectionate, but it would be weighing on him.

I do think Lucifer would end up being the one who would be thinking; "What am I doing. He'd never like me back." While Husk would be just sitting there (echoing what was said in the ask- sorry I went all wild and wrote this much about the ship dear god)- "I'm just some fucking furry alcoholic, what the fuck would the king of hell see in me??? Am I delusional? What the fuck is going on??" And I feel like this stage would go on for MONTHS and drive everyone else nuts. It would be clear to everyone (except Alastor, who again, would be just this meme

Though that wouldn't stop him from getting a little pissy about it) And then it would all come to a head during something benign, like a board game night. There would be flirting, there would be jealousy, there would be arguing, and then finally, loudly and with a lot of feeling, Lucifer would shout his way through asking Husk out on a date. A real Date. A capital 'D' date out on the town, dressed to the nines and a real good time. The board would be knocked over in the fray, game pieces raining down upon them while Husk would just stare blank faced, trying to process what just happened. An awkward half-minute would pass before he'd finally, trying to play it cool, shrug out a 'sure'.

How much it'd piss Alastor off;

In the aftermath, a radio static would just lowly grate everyone's ears as Alastor would be slowly coming to terms on how just annoying it would be to have his friend (/Unhealthy co-dependent pet friend possession??) romantically involved (ew) with the King of Hell (double ew)??? Then, either it would be something light hearted like 'he keeps trying to break them up but failing cause he hates interacting with romance' or a darker route where 'he keeps trying to manipulate them into breaking up by preying on all their worst insecurities in the relationship'.

And that, my friend, is all I have in mind so far for this delusional crackship au! There is more I could flesh out, of course, like Angel's role as a friend or potential third in the relationship, or what I imagine as Husk becoming like a stepdad to Charlie, but I've typed enough for the whole month. Hope any of that was coherent! I did not bother to edit or proof read it. Just pure stream of consciousness.

[fairydares]

loook i get why the idea of riding the "anti/pro" fandom disk horse makes people gag a little in their mouth and try to opt out entirely, but here's why i went from feeling exactly the same way to taking a firm profiction stance. I've been meaning to make this post for a while.

~10 years ago, I posted a fic for the first time and it got its own harassment campaign. The fic wasn't even sexual, and wasn't going to be (it remains incomplete). It was accurately rated T on fanfiction.net. Anyone in the Fairy Tail fandom will understand this: I literally got harassed for writing a "Lucy leaves the guild" fic💀.

After many nice comments, someone left a pretty nasty one. Hurt, I messaged them back. They acted super attacked that I'd responded (lmao) and after we argued, threatened to "rip my shitty story apart in the comments section" if I responded again. I told them "go ahead lol."

They went ahead.

Now know that it was a relatively small harassment campaign, but at the time, it was devastating. Right around then, I wound up in the hospital. After I got out, I went to excitedly check my fic, and found several reviews saying things I wouldn't repeat to my worst enemy. I was suicide-baited more than once, told "thank fuck you finally abandoned this shitty story, dumb cunt," stuff like that.

There were several accounts involved, and I can't say for sure, but I suspect at least a couple different people were involved, though probably at least half of it was one person.

All the other comments were screeching about how I hadn't updated, mostly. "NO UPDAAATEE WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPENS TO MEEEE??!!!" was one that stood out after I'd been miserable in a hospital for an extended period of time.

Idk what people think is going on when FT fic authors write this trope, and frankly I don't give a fuck. Because while I was partly writing the story out of some young, cringe feminist rage, I also did genuinely have a real story I was compelled to tell. I was inspired by another, popular fic I loved which used the trope to talk about how trying to shoulder our burdens alone really just hurts both ourselves and everyone who cares about us.

My own story was ultimately going to have similar themes, with more focus on strength, what it means, and in what contexts earning and having it actually matters. In retrospect, no wonder I wound up in hot water, because at the time "Lucy vs. Strength vs. Misogyny" was the FT fandom's Designated Nonsensically Activist Debate™. But that's partly why i wanted to write about it; engaging with the fandom had gotten me thinking about it 🤷‍♂️

Not too long after that, FFNet oh-so-benevolently granted us the ability to delete comments from our own stories (they never took my reports seriously at all, afaik). I deleted all or most of the harassers' comments (may still be a one or two up, and i'm fairly sure there's a couple comments defending my fic from the harassment) without saving screenshots, which I really regret now. I was just so mortified and full of self-loathing about the whole thing that i wanted to forget it completely. Something that had brought me joy at a very lonely, vulnerable period of my life had turned so negative, and i couldn't even tell the people closest to me about it without being made fun of for writing anime fan fiction.

I didn't understand why this happened at the time, but--after a period of trying to forget/bid out of it all with a slight anti lean (a common approach I see people use, and one which I'm not proud of adopting)--I just had to figure out What the Fuck Even Happened There. And I'm telling you, after years of reflecting, wrestling with both sides, and educating myself, that this "status quo of harassment" culture which pervades fandom goes way deeper than you think and comes out of a way darker well than you probably realize. An astonishing amount of this is, quite literally, TERF shit and evangelical shit.

Trying to be in fandom and take a stance of, "Anti/Pro shit? Ew, I'm Not Touching that," is like swimming in a heavily polluted river and being like, "Poison? Cringe. Not me lol."

You might be lucky enough to be in a less-polluted part of the river (AKA a relatively non-toxic fandom, in which case good for you!)...but tbh this rhetoric and peer-signalling will still seep in.

I can't stress enough that pro-fiction, AKA "proship", is the normal, leftist-about-art-and-sex opinion. Pro-ship is against all the horrible things you're against; in fact, pro-ship isn't trivializing real trauma by equating it with fictional trauma, or trying to apply literal evangelical/radfem solutions--which are proven not to prevent or help. Profiction/proship is literally just saying, "Fiction is fiction, reality is reality, and the two don't have a 1:1 relationship. And historically, trying to censor just things we've decided are bad has done nothing but get LGBTQ+ and POCs censored. Therefore, depictions of illegal things shouldn't be censored." That's it. "Proshippers all ship problematic ships," is a brazen lie. Many of them share other fans' disgust for those ships, they just don't believe in censoring fic authors over it.

It is also taking a stand against harassment because--and I hope my own story has helped drive this home--as with all groups who adopt ingroup/outgroup thinking, antis are defined by their tactics, not actual stances on real, serious issues. What happened to me was absolutely a result of anti, "it's okay to 'bully out' anything I just don't like" mindset pervading fandom. In a way, this was the mindset's final form. They didn't even feel the need to cite a reason the trope was "bad" or "wrong"; it annoyed them, and they viewed their own feelings as a valid enough pathway for policing to go right ahead and do so.

In the interest of offering solutions instead of just bitching about problems, I might make a "how to know if you've bought into these types of views"-type post sometime. Also might come back to this and provide some sources/citation.

[kkaewrites]

real or not real — nagi seishiro x reader !

warnings. indecent language, ooc nagi.

tropes. meet-ugly, enemies to lovers.

you hate nagi seishiro.

he was stone cold, often referred to as socially awkward— but you feel like those were just excuses to make up for his rude and nasty behavior. personally, you think he’s overrated just because he’s considered a soccer genius. of course, no one ever believes you. they think your hatred clouds your judgement (it obviously does not).

you first met him when you were in grade school, deskmates for the first day of class. he was shorter than you at that time, but aside from his height, everything about him stayed the same. he still has the same gunmetal gray eyes that’s either reflected with boredom or reflected by the screen of his gray nintendo gameboy. he still has the same white hair, as clean as the first drop of snow, but as wild as a lion’s mane.

to you, there was absolutely nothing about him that’s fascinating— he was the same as any average boy. playing mobile games was his favorite past time, so much so that you believed that it was his lifeline at one point. or so you’d assume. he always kept to himself and was left to his own devices (quite literally), most things that kids enjoy don’t seem to pique his interest. you guess those were the reasons why he didn’t have many friends.

no, scratch that— he didn’t have any friends.

at first you wondered why. if there’s one thing you noticed about him even at a very young age, it’s that he’s handsome. he doesn’t have to be the “rich kid” with amazing gadgets and fancy toys, or the “cool kid” who knows what right words to say and way to say it, but he’s nagi. he was conventionally attractive without even trying. however, that fact doesn’t seem to make up for the fact that he looks lonely.

so, you’ve devised a plan to talk to him.

“hey. sei-chan, wanna be my friend?” you’re everyone’s friend. the sunshine child, the one who always lends her classmate crayons or pencils, the kid with pigtails who smile at strangers for no reason. you’re the kid that everyone loves, and if by some miracle, someone hates you (which has never happened and will never happen)— everyone would simply take your side. you’re loved by all.

if nagi was shocked by your sudden proposal, his features didn’t show any signs of it. what he does is pause his current game and faces you. it’s the first time you’ve ever stared at him eye-to-eye. your heart jumps.

uh oh. is this what they call a crush?

eyes filled with hope, you patiently waited for nagi’s response. you expected him to utter “sure” wearing his usual monotone voice, but it doesn’t come. and what he says instead ruins you. your heart does a somersault and tumbles, crashing onto the pavement and breaking into tiny, gliterring pieces. it did not feel good.

“no thanks. i despise people like you.”

you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong at that very moment. maybe you were too blunt, too cheery, too whatever — just something too much to be able to upset someone like nagi seishiro, who doesn’t feel strongly about anything or anyone. you didn’t have the courage to ask him what you’ve done wrong because your vision blurs. you always reckoned that it was due to anger, but your mother who saw you run home with tear-streaked cheeks says otherwise.

you still don’t know how you managed to piss off nagi, even until your very first year of college. after grade school, you never saw him again. you heard he studied at some prestigious high school but that was the end of it, you never really asked because you had no interest whatsoever. you somehow managed to assure yourself that there was no way you’d ever cross paths with him once again— so why is he here?

why, of all places, would he be your deskmate for your politics class?

at this point, you thought maybe the gods above despised you, too. did they hate you enough to not only be schoolmates, not only be classmates with this man, but to be deskmates? hate is the only logical explanation for this fucked-up coincidence. you’re not keen on fates or invisible strings so you’re sure this was just a punishment for you.

oh god. you hate it so much. you hate him so much.

without a word, you took the seat right next to him, taking the opportunity while he’s sound asleep. you’re not sure why he would take politics as his subject, because as far as you know about him, all he ever cares about is his mobile games. maybe soccer as well, but that’s not exactly related to politics, either.

when the professor enters the class, you found no reason to wake him up. he could get screamed at for all you care, but there was no way you’d ever converse with him at your own accord. because the only way you’d ever survive sitting next to him for the whole semester is by not acknowledging him at all. you can do that. you can avoid talking or looking at him. he’s not that talkative (and he’s not even awake) to begin with.

until your plan crashes and burns.

he turns out to be your partner for a school project— a big one, at that. you considered going solo, but the whole point of the project is to make sure two people are working together. it was a community development kind of plan, so unless he works with you and you work with him, you’d be getting an F for your politics class. that, you can’t have. even if it meant talking to him and enduring his presence.

he wakes up right after the class ended and you could barely contain your scoff. he sat through the whole 2 hour lecture just like that, does he have no care for his grades? doesn’t matter. it’s none of your business if he fails, that simply means that you won’t see him much anymore (which is a win for you).

you sighed. he should’ve been paired with someone else. why did it have to be you? why did it have to be your deskmate? and why did he have to be your deskmate? it was too much. how could you ever work with someone you hate? with someone who hates you?

you’re going to fail politics. you’re 100% sure of that. there was just no way that you’d ever accomplish this task— or you could beg your professor to let you switch partners. or you could ask your classmates to let you switch... but who would ever want someone as lazy as nagi to be their partner? fuck.

from the corner of your eye, you saw nagi yawn. it took all of you to swallow your pride whole and gulp it down to ever approach him, but it’s better than not trying. if you fail, at least you tried. even if it meant battling your inner demons.

so, clutching your bag straps tightly as if it would ever help, you turned to your sleepy deskmate. “nagi. it seems like we’re partners for the politics subject. i’m expecting you’d cooperate willingly so that—”

“sorry,” he interrupts with half lidded eyes. “do i know you?”

“you’re going to rip your paper to shreds.” nagi commented from behind you, peering over your shoulder as you aggressively wrote on your notebook. you imagined the page to be nagi’s face as you cruelly stabbed it, not caring about your pen or your paper’s state. you cannot believe that for some reason, you’re still stuck with the snow white haired guy. you’ve tried everything there is to get rid of him but nothing seemed to work.

“right,” your teeth could break with how hard you clenched your jaw. “will you be free later?”

“oh. i have soccer training.”

of course he fucking has soccer training.

you gave him the strongest deadpan you could muster before exhaling a deep breath. once to calm yourself down, twice to clear your head and thrice in hopes of losing all of your lungs’ air so you could shrivel and die on the spot. nagi seems to be unaware of your thoughts— and even if he had understood your facial expression and body language, he simply did not care.

“i’ll be free after, though.” he adds, as if you’d ever know that information if he hasn’t uttered it. this at least gives you the sense that he might care about the group project, and that he won’t be a complete inconvenience.

“okay. let’s meet up at the coffee shop near school. will you be done at 8?”

“yeah. but,” he pauses. “i thought we’d just do the project at my place.”

“who died and made you king?” you blurt out before you could think of a proper response. you wondered if you’d ever feel so strongly about a person the same way you did for nagi. he was driving you mad.

“what?” his clueless face almost made you feel guilt— almost. but you ignored the sensation and frowned instead. the least you could do was give him a clearer sentence:

“there’s no way i’d ever step a foot at your house.”

“it’s fine. no one’s home anyway.”

“that’s even worse.”

“huh? oh. don’t worry. you’re not my type.”

the conversations you somehow hold with nagi infuriates you. he has this way of making you feel like shit for some reason, and he does it with so much nonchalance you’d wonder if he insults everyone. but you know better and you know he definitely doesn’t, because you’re the only one he treats like this. it’s the absolute worst.

what does he mean you’re not his type? were you not pretty enough? not tall enough? not skinny enough? not fair enough? not what? ever since grade school, you’ve always thought that he sees you as someone “too much” and yet as he stands here with you, in an empty classroom— you wondered how you could be “too much” and yet be “not enough” at the same time.

and since when did you care about how he views you? since you were kids, apparently. because the words he would utter up until this day shatters you all the same. and you hate him— so goddamn much. but beyond all that anger, there’s grief. it doesn’t subside even as you grabbed all your things and shoved 6”3 foot tall nagi aside.

for some reason, he shows up at the café you mentioned at exactly 8 o’clock in the evening. you were typing away on your laptop, while a cup of caramel macchiato and a bunch of scattered papers littered your desk. you didn’t expect him to come, and it would’ve been better if he didn’t. but somehow, he’s here and he looks a little apologetic.

“are you upset?” he asks. his sports bag slumped over his shoulder as he stands right next to you. there’s an unoccupied seat in front but he doesn’t take it— at least, not yet. his whole, undivided attention was poured onto you and you alone. it makes you squirm in your seat, so you decided not to look up from your screen to greet him.

“no. take a seat.”

“you look upset.”

“do you want me to be upset?”

“no.”

“then shut up.”

wordlessly, he takes the seat right in front of you and slouches. he looks battered and fatigued from practice, but he doesn’t say a word to complain (to your absolute shock). you guessed that he walked straight from the field to the café without even changing or taking a shower, because his clothes clung to him like a shirt a few sizes smaller.

“shouldn’t you go change?”

“yeah. but i left my clean clothes at my apartment.”

fifteen minutes pass and you suddenly closed your laptop shut, eyes fixated on nagi’s gunmetal gray ones. he looks surprised from your sudden move, a look that you didn’t expect to recognize due to how miniscule it was. you felt bad for him. the café was getting too cold for comfort and all he wore was his jersey (one that’s drenched with his sweat). if you stayed any longer, he’d probably catch a cold.

why you care, however, that was not a question you could currently answer.

“let’s just go to your place.”

despite his constant need to laze around, his place wasn’t a complete mess— well, yes, there are (presumably dirty) clothes on the floor and used dishes on the sink, but you’ve seen worse. you expected his apartment to be so much worse. it seems like he’s not a complete monkey to not understand basic hygiene and cleanliness.

your only problem is that nagi seems to be bored. you caught him dozing off the coffee table as you ramble about your politics project, and you don’t even have to ask if he cares at all— because he’s trying to hide his obvious distate and boredom. so, even though you’d rather proceed to do your work rather than humoring this 6 foot tall giant, you pipe up:

“wanna play a game?”

“what game? i don’t like games that require effort.”

“it’s called real or not real. we take turns in guessing if the other person’s sentence is real or not real.”

“sounds like a pain.” he groans.

“you know what truly is a pain?” you turned to look at him. “this politics project. so take it or leave it. i’m kind enough to give you a break.”

“shouldn’t we play a different game? a mobile game, maybe.”

“what about a wager, then? the winner’s the boss.”

the game was a piece of cake— to you, at least. nagi’s an open book and it’s easy to read him. you explained that the mechanics goes like this: you take turns in giving very specific sentences about yourself, and the other party has to guess whether it’s real or not real. five wrong guesses means that the other person wins. so the only thing you have to do is to make sure that nagi loses first.

unfortunately, you were down to four mistakes while nagi only had one. the game wasn’t going like how you imagined it would be. how were you supposed to know that nagi keeps a cactus as a pet? how were you supposed to know that he only figured out how to play soccer when he was in high school? how were you supposed to know that he’s got a picture of his crush under his study table? (you still had no idea who that crush is, and it quite literally shocked you). how were you supposed to know that someone like nagi seishiro, was capable of liking someone romantically?

on the other hand, out of the six sentences you threw at him— he had only guessed wrong once. you don’t know how he’s so good at this game, too. it was either he knew awfully a lot about you, or was really good at second guessing things. you’re pretty sure it was the former. how could he know a lot about you, when he doesn’t even know your name?

“real or not real: i hate you.” you stated. his nonchalance was putting you off, but you’re not sure if you were uneasy because of it or if you felt guilty for saying that sentence out loud. you told yourself you could just take it back and act as if it’s not real but nagi himself looked so convinced when he said:

“real.”

he was right once again. but you didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whole thing when his sentence comes.

“real or not real: i want to kiss you right now.”

the silence was so loud it pierces your ears— or maybe you have gone deaf with that sentence. you’re not sure of anything at the moment because it feels like your senses were slowly slipping from your own fingers. if nagi was joking, his face didn’t show any signs of him laughing soon. but maybe you should know better, maybe he could joke like that with a straight face.

so you waited for a few minutes, for him to tell you that it was a joke— that it’s not part of the goddamn game because how could it be part of it? but nothing comes. his eyes were simply on you as he patiently awaits your answer. your make it or break it answer, at that. and it only dawns on you that this is real, this is his sentence and he’s expecting you to play. he’s expecting you to answer real or not real. because you were the one who proposed the game in the first place.

you wanted to scream and to run away, but you were rooted on the spot. time stood still and it froze you under nagi’s unblinking gunmetal gray eyes, as if the situation’s not bad at all. but this is a trick question, your rational mind says. he told you when you were younger that he despises people like you, asked you if he knows you upon meeting at your politics class, and told you that you’re not exactly his type— so there’s no way he’d want to kiss you. right?

you meet his gaze. right, nagi?

against your better judgement to think it through, you suddenly blurted: “real.”

his face doesn’t shift and nor did the mood of the room. your heart was beating erratically as if you’re not facing the guy you clearly hated with a passion, but the silence ensues. you were screaming at yourself, why the fuck did you say real? were you out of your goddamned mind? were you crazy? the answer’s clearly not real!

nagi, however, only looks away. “huh.”

“what?”

“i almost won. what a pity.”

“the answer’s real?”

“yeah.” he tilts his head and answers as if you were stupid. as if you were the one who’s weird and doesn’t get what’s happening— but maybe that really is the case. because you’re mind hasn’t caught up yet. what does he mean the answer’s real? does that mean he wants to kiss you, right now? how is that possible after all the things he had said to you?

you laugh. not the quiet giggle or the chuckle you were accustomed to doing, but a belly laugh— one that could rival a hyena’s. because this was funny. too funny. he’s definitely joking and you’ve only figured out that now.

“okay, fine. you got me.”

“what do you mean?”

“the joke. you’re so serious that i almost missed it.”

confusion marrs his face. “what joke?”

“about the kiss.”

“i wasn’t joking.”

“well, i’d rather have you joking than for that sentence to be real.”

“you hate me that much?”

he almost sounds hurt, but you knew better. how could he be hurt, out of all people? if there’s anyone who’s hurt, it would be you. how can he say all those hurtful things with so much nonchalance and tell you things like he wants to kiss you? how cruel must he be to toy with you like this? it was not funny. none of this was funny.

and it reminds you of your childhood— of your little crush on nagi that never seemed to go away. somehow, the little you screams that you should not fall for something like this. that it is easier to hate nagi than to love him. that it is easier to stand up from your seat, smile, and tell him: “yeah. i do.”

it has been a week. maybe two. or three? you’ve lost count. you’ve never visisted nagi again after the whole real or not real game, and you never saw him often because he’s been excused. something about soccer championship that you didn’t bother listening to. besides, you liked the comfortable silence now that he’s not around.

your phone dings. and it’s from an unknown number. but somehow, you guessed it has something to do with nagi.

unknown

real or not real: i’m sorry

oh. that’s right. the game technically hasn’t finished yet because no one has won. you told yourself numerous time that you won’t reply to his message, but against your better judgement, you somehow still did.

you

real

when your class ended, nagi seishiro was right outside. he was panting and sweaty— as if he ran just to get where you were. but this is nagi we’re talking about. there’s no way he’d actually do something like that, despite his lingering look on you. what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?

breathless, he speaks up to catch your attention. you were busy stuffing your books inside your locker, back against him as you completely ignored his presence. you did not say hi. you did not meet his gaze. but even without direct contact, your heart was drumming against your rib just by knowing that he’s near. what the heck.

“we won the game.”

there’s a lot of responses that entered your mind at that very moment. entry #1, who asked? entry #2, who cares? entry #3, why are you telling me this? and the list goes on. you’re pretty sure none of them were positive— but this was all so confusing. why was nagi chasing after you like a lost puppy who lost its mom? what’s he going for here?

“that’s good for you.” you slammed your locker shut and walked away. nagi eventually follows after you, as if there’s something in his throat that he wants to let out, but you didn’t give him the chance to. you’re sure nothing that would come out of his mouth is good. you’re sure he’s running after you because of the politics project, or because he wants to annoy you.

and you hate it. you hate him. your gut twists at the thought of him running after you like this is some shoujo manga and that’s the annoying part. how is your heart flipping with your every waking step if you hate him so much? you’re supposed to hate nagi, god fucking damn it.

you finally stop in your tracks, whipping around to face the 6 foot tall soccer player. to get it all over with.

“is there something you need to tell me?”

“we haven’t finished the game.”

“i don’t care about the game. leave me alone.”

“it’s your turn. your real or not real.”

this was stupid no matter what angle you look at it. it was just some game you made up and decided to try with nagi. it didn’t mean anything to you because all you wanted by then was to get his attention, so why did it matter so much to him? you don’t get it. you’re not sure how nagi circuits because everything he does confuses you. and before you know it, your irrational side takes over. reason left your body when you blurted the words:

“stop it. fucking stop this.”

why are you so persistent?

“was it fun to toy with me? was it fun when you told me you despised me when we were kids? was it fun when you told me i was not your type? i don’t fucking get it.”

you were angry. mad. seething. your blood boiled underneath your skin and you feared that it would leave your whole being in nothing but dust. through it all, you’re also confused. perplexed. lost. your mind can’t understand the fine line between hate and love anymore. your feelings overlap with each other and merges— you’re not sure what you’re feeling now. you’ve wondered how long you’ve buried this string of emotions you’ve had for nagi. that would explain why you’re nothing but a ticking time bomb now.

“if my playing with my feelings give you so much fun— then do it elsewhere. i have no time for things like this, nagi.”

“but i’m not playing, though. i’ve liked you for quite awhile now.”

excuse me?

“oops. i accidentally gave the answer to my next sentence. what a pain,” he scratches the nape of his nexk and looks away.

how the fuck am i supposed to respond to that?

“do you expect me to believe you?”

“i’ve got no reason to lie,” he shrugs. “plus, lying’s a pain. i don’t like it.”

“but— what you said back then...”

“i, well. i go blank when i talk to you. i guess. my stomach flips when you’re around and my throat goes dry.” nagi doesn’t look at you once while he utters this. tinge of red coats the tip of his ears and this is where you think ‘this is it’. he’s not lying. this is real, and you know that much— nagi never looked nervous until now. you think maybe that explains why he would avoid your gaze and why he would say the most confusing things. you think maybe this is nagi. the socially awkward nagi. the one who can’t talk to people properly nagi.

“i’ve always thought you were pretty. i despise pretty things because it makes me feel things. it’s a pain.” he mumbles. “of course i know you. of course i know your name. but it’s the first thing i thought to say because your face was too close. you’re prettier up close.”

he should stop talking. he should drop it all together and just kiss you, but you could never say these words because you haven’t wrapped your head around the whole thing yet. nagi likes you. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi short circuits when you’re around. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi’s actually confessing. nagi likes you. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes you.

“i don’t like pretty things. that’s not my type at all. but reo said i might be in love with you.” he finally turns to look at you and tilts his head. your face burns— and you swore it was because of the remnants of your anger, but everyone else could tell that it was not. your heart does a somersault, but this time it does not drop. it stays in the air, lingering like nagi’s perfume scent, until he carefully waits for it to land on his palms when he said: “i think he’s right. i’m in love with you.”

for the duration of your game with nagi and with all the truths shared between the both of you— this is probably the most real out of them. this is the only time he doesn’t ask the question ‘real or not real’ because his face says it all. his face says that it’s the real and raw truth. his face says that you must believe this because he’s not making it up. it was the first time you could read his expression. it was the first time that you’re not confused by nagi.

“fucking dumbass,” you comment. “that’s not how it works.”

you reach over to grab his collar, on your highest tip-toes because of his height. you’re pretty sure you’re the only ones present in the secluded corridor but the clamors of your heart makes an illusion of people cheering for you. somewhere in the parallel worlds of your universe, you think maybe those cheers exist. it only silences when you pulled nagi down with you, whispering:

“i hope you still want to kiss me, then.”

when he closes in the gap between the both of you, his answer was loud and clear.

i do. always.

notes. YES YES YES i finally finished this long ass fic! i’ve been writing it since forever & im just SO glad i finally get to finish it 🥹 as u can see, there is nothing on my mind rn but nagi seishiro. he’s literally living in my head rent-free and i’m not complaining. i love him too much. i hope u enjoyed this ‼️ as always, likes & reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you so so much for ur patience & love for this blog ❤️

ִ ࣪𖤐 masterlist !

[ky-yk]

2:28 am (hyj x f!reader)

genre: fluff || word count: 968 author's note: back from the dead with smth self indulgent and way farther from what i envisioned

in. out. deep breaths, y/n.

lying in a pool of your own sweat, you heaved while staring up at the ceiling. not even a blasting a/c could stop me from shedding my weight in sweat, huh. you learn something new every day, you thought to yourself.

you turned my head with what energy you had left and squinted your eyes to look at the time: 02:28 am, it read. you closed your eyes and sighed, turning to look back up at the ceiling.

"literally, why do i do this to myself. i had a whole day to work out and yet here i am," you muttered to know one in particular. maybe it was a way to distract from the baby hairs sticking onto your forehead and the ends of my locks feeling like you'd taken a shower that you'd suddenly become hyper-aware of.

"i wonder the exact same thing."

a husky voice broke you out of your reverie. you propped yourself up on your arms as you looked over to the door that you're surprised you didn't hear open and met the striking brown eyes of a certain songstress. your eyes grew wide as you tried to sputter out an answer.

"o-oh, hey yunjin!" such a charmer, y/n. nice going.

you then got up and ran over to the couch where your towel lay and tried to at least make myself look presentable. "what're you doing here? it's so late," you asked in english.

"i could ask you the same thing, y/n," she chuckled with a shake of her head. she turned her attention to the lone yoga mat near the end of the room.

"i-i'll clean that up, don't worry!" you sputtered out. you then scuffled over to the yoga mat and started rolling it up. "anyways, what're you doing here again?"

"leader's orders. she's been trying to contact you all night," she replied nonchalantly. you cringed at the thought of worrying your chaewon-unnie. yikes...

"um, tell her i'll be home soon," you replied.

the quiet hum of the air conditioners was the only thing filling the awkward silence between you and your same-aged friend. who you also happened to be crushing on. hard. i mean, it was hard not to. she was quite literally everyone's dream girl. insanely talented, creative, witty, and not to mention, absolutely gorgeous. when she came home from the salon after dyeing her hair black for unforgiven promotions, your soul quite literally left your body.

aside from those, though, she felt like home. the whole debut process -- from getting scouted at a school talent show to moving to korea barely speaking the language -- would've been even more hellish had she not been around. your first training session with the girls was nothing short of grueling, made even more so by your evident insecurity and shyness. you sat on the couch with the girls as they chattered away nonstop among each other, their conversations going in one ear and out the other as you stared off into the distance and just let everything sink in.

"hey, you good?" she asked you in english, and the familiarity in a strange land lifted a whole weight off your shoulders.

only for it to make it so easy for you to fall into the trenches that is huh yunjin.

"i'll wash up real quick and then head home," you told her after cleaning up after yourself. she hummed noncommittally as you picked up your belongings and made your way to the hybe showers. when you came back, she was sitting patiently with her legs crossed and her phone in her hands, looking at it intently. you finally got a good look at her: how her glasses hung on for dear life at the end of her nose, how her hoodie engulfed her and made her look oh so cuddly, and how she let her hair down and had it frame her face perfectly.

goddamn, get up, y/n.

"let's get going?"

"come here, first."

she put her phone down and opened her arms up for you to come into. you confusedly put your bag down and walked over to her, only for her to turn you around and pull you into her lap. your eyes widened as you felt your heart beat against your chest. you looked down at her arms tightening around your waist, hoping your hair would cover your reddening face. that was probably fruitless though because you were certain she could feel the heat radiating off of you with her chin resting on your shoulder.

"um...care to explain?"

"i'm just feeling affectionate," she mumbled.

"ah." she probably would've clung onto kkura-unnie if she was here. i just happened to be the only person around. get up, y/n.

"besides, i haven't seen you often. you're always disappearing after our schedules; my english is getting rusty, you know?" you could hear the pout in her voice. you turned to look at her and completely underestimated the distance when she turned to look at you too, noses barely touching.

"so when chaewon-unnie was going to ask zuha to look for you, i stepped up. i missed you."

"we see each other every day though."

"but we never get to hang out."

"valid, i guess."

you broke her gaze and turned to look at yourselves in the mirror. yunjin plucked her phone up and turned her camera on.

"look, y/n."

your idol instincts turned on and posed for the camera in front of the mirror: hand on your cheek, face scrunched up in a smile as yunjin shot away until...

you felt her nosing away at your neck and leaving a little peck on the spot. there was no way she couldn't feel your heart drumming against your chest.

"cute. let's get going?"

"yeah, sure..."

[kyouka-supremacy]

what do you think drew dazai to ango in the dark era + do you have any thoughts on his feelings about him now?

I like to think of the Buraiha trio as this group of people that have absolutely nothing in common between each other, yet immediately click for some unknown reason. Maybe it's precisely the curiosity of knowing someone who's nothing like you, the yearning of getting to know them more and more which makes it so that you would never tire out of spending time with them. I think that's what Dazai used to feel towards Ango. I feel like Buraiha as a whole was a well balanced trio of people that enjoyed each other's presence; a so perfectly balanced combination where every member is equally fundamental to the group's standing, that losing even one person would immediately mean irreparably breaking the bond between all of them and would cause an equal great grief for everyone- which is what happened.

Dazai cared about his little safe place in Dark Era sooooooo much. And like, how could it have been any different. Here you have this young man who's been deeply lonely¹ his whole life, who infinitely struggles to connect with other people and who struggles to find a reason to live, finally having found a space where he can hang out with people he considers friends, who don't quite understand him but who still care about him and who he cares about back. Someone he can feel a little more light around. It was literally the first time this man found relief in his life, as well as likely the first time he ever experienced genuine happiness in his 18 years of life.

Of course Dazai despised Ango when he ruined that, when he chose his loyalty to the government over their friendship. Of course Dazai felt betrayed and can't forgive Ango for that. I do believe Dazai still loves Ango - because what the three of them shared at Buraiha was deep and unconditional -, but I don't think he can ever forgive him, and I don't think Dazai can ever be in good terms with Ango again. Though, their latest interactions in the manga quite contradict this, since Dazai didn't really manifest any hard feeling when cooperating with Ango, so who knows! ╮(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)╭

It's kind of sweetly tragic how devoted Ango is to Dazai. He's willing to do anything, to be denigrated and hated to no end for Dazai, because he knows nothing will make up for what he's done, but he still feels like he's forever indebted towards Dazai for the loss he caused him. It's so contradictory, how Ango was willing to betray Dazai for the sake of the government, but is now going to betray the same government out of the guilt he feels towards Dazai; but it's also contradictory in the way humans are, you know?

¹ Before Buraiha, Dazai had Mori, and Chuuya. And although I think in different ways both lessened Dazai's loneliness, for different reasons and circumstances they weren't all around positive relationships like Buraiha was for him.

[committingwarcr1mes]

mitski once said:

“i don't need the world to see that i've been the best i can be, but

i don't think i could stand to be where you don't see me”

and now i have to write this.

i really don’t get why people are so superficial about griffith, y’all like “nah, he always was evil vicious callous etc 🙄🙄🙄” and not even trying to look beneath, which is really discouraging because the eclipse arc made it very clear and showed everything in the most obvious way possible.

oh, remark: it’s only about berserk 1997.

so let’s start from afar. “griffith never cared of his people and friends, he easily betrayed them for batman costume 👻👻👻” like WTF?? he DID. he DID CARE. he sold himself to feed and equip his people, and it wasn’t like “he enjoyed f***ing that bearded guy ahshdjsa lmao 😂🤡🤡” (btw i don’t get this crap cause it seems like y’all are so obsessed with rape theme, but while feeling sorry for one victim you at the same time make fun of another. the hypocrisy of this fandom i can’t--). but return to what i’ve started. griffith always cared for his people; he never showed it and never admitted it even to himself, but he remembered everyone who died fighting for him, and i guess sometimes he really blamed himself for that — but again, never admitted it. those scenes weren’t given just for drama or something — these contradictions were always an important part of his character and determined his sight. failure would make victims meaningless. like people died for nothing.

another thing people don’t understand is that griffith never cared only about the power and the fact of becoming the king. people never strive to go on top just to go on top, all our actions are motivated by deeply personal reasons. so i think he really wanted people to follow him, believe in him, attach with his yearning. it always feels good when you see that people like you, need you, rely on you. that is what makes a leader a leader. of course you can say that it’s a selfish and vain wish, but aren’t all people selfish? you always set guts against griffith — so weren’t guts’ wishes and life stance selfish? i think it ridiculous to judge such things.

and now we get to the core — the need for love. love of thousands is pleasant, but in the end humans need something more than that. it’s lonely at the top, as they say. you still need someone to be close to, to trust and rely on. for griffith that “someone” was guts. “ wELL aCtUaLlY hE wAs NeVEr iN lOvE wiTH gUtS 🤓” oh STFU. you didn’t get the homosexual drama, but i did 🤭

and now i’m not going to speculate on was it healthy love or sElFiSh or tOxiC or pOsSeSiVe, i don’t care, you need to get that love can be twisted, sick, destructive, wrong, but it still LOVE. i agree that griffith did use guts for his own affairs, pulled in palace intrigues and etc, but it doesn’t change the fact that he had feelings for him that were able to confuse and mess him up.

“amongst the thousands of comrades... and the tens of thousands of enemies... there was only one man... you were the only one... who ever made me forget my dream” like WHY DO YOU THINK THIS NEEDED TO BE SAID??

their relationships deserve a separate paragraph actually so i won’t drive too deep. all we need to understand is that guts became too important to griffith and it was literally the end to everything he worked for during all those years.

so, guts decides to leave, nothing now can stops him. griffith is messed up and disordered, he’s crushed and isn't really aware of what he's doing. and it is a very good subtext here — he feels rejected, so he goes to charlotte who’s obviously in love with him and has sex with her. it’s a reckless impulse, a moment of weakness, and it leads to the only mistake that cost EVERYTHING. and then griffith is tortured, mutilated and losing even the possibility to talk.

retreat: i find quite interesting how easily he lost that fighting with guts. you can say “well it’s just because guts is stronger blah blah blah etc 🙄🙄🙄”, but i think it was probably about griffith’s subliminal unwillingness to hold someone who’s already decided to give up on him. however…

what is going on in griffith’s head during all these horrible events? guts. guts guts guts. logic chain is simple: he got here because of guts, he lost everything because of guts, guts is the reason for everything he has to pass through now. i’m not blaming guts, but it’s just how griffith was thinking there — which is not surprising, like imagine yourself going through this kind of torture while remembering whom have you been and what you were striving for. all can imagine, but not all can understand.

“and yet… here, in this empty, hollow world… one thing is clear in my mind. him alone… like lightning splitting through the darkness… he appears in my mind so vividly. over and over again like the waves of a tsunami… hatred… friendship… jealousy… frustration… helplessness… affection… sorrow… they all come together into a giant vortex… they pin my fading consciousness down so that it doesn’t slip away. the one who caused this… my confinement in this darkness… will now… become the only chance at survival. when did it happen? this man, whose life was once in my hands… when did i fall into his powerful clutches? and now… in my mind i see him radiating so brightly it pierces in my eyes. guts!” IN BLACK AND WHITE

and this was the moment when love started to turn into hatred; when the pain of abandonment is so strong that it destroys the rest of the feelings. no one made griffith go to charlotte and do what he did, and yet he was so messed up with guts’ leaving that he went and did it. and now he isn’t even able to talk, to walk and to hold anything with his hands. no more fighting, no more winning. no more way to fulfill his dream. all because of guts. and still, affection is living. that moment when guts & co came to save griffith and guts holding him, griffith stretches his arm to touch… or to choke him? guess we’ll never now. however, some kind of hope flared up in him again. guts came back, and probably it will get better…

but oh, it won’t. only worse.

moving on scene when griffith lays in carriage and hears guts and casca conversation on the outside. it’s a VERY important moment that many people overlook, but it is exactly what led to the eclipse events as they are. so, guts is going to leave again and offers casca to join him, casca refuses because she needs to take care of griffith, and when she said that guts decides to stay. with HER. for HER. not for griffith. the story repeats itself, and griffith is still not that significant for him.

and look what happens here. griffith’s people saw his injuries and knew that he can’t lead them any longer. one part of them is going to follow casca now, the other one — guts. they all gave up on him. so did guts. the last one, whose affection griffith desired the most. what is for casca… it is a pretty complicated moment, but a part of the problem here is feel of betrayal. you can think as you wish but i’m considering casca as more like a sister, a fellow, a loyal companion and an assistant to griffith, than a love interest. like yeah, he had a dream where he lives with her taking care of him in small nice house, but… i think it is a question of a habit. we saw two women in griffith’s life: casca and charlotte. charlotte could be a key to power, but i don’t think that griffith wanted to even remember her after the torture. casca, on the other hand, was the one who was near him for quite a long time. she cared for him, supported him. so if griffith needed to give up and live normal life like simple men do, he would choose casca as a partner just because there is now other woman. but at this moment casca took guts away from him. another betrayal. and of course, it starts the jealous.

after overhearing guts and casca’s conversation griffith gathering his strength and drives horses to… somewhere. i don’t think he was fully aware of what he was doing, most likely it was just an another reckless impulse, but he gets into a river and decides to 💀 himself. it was a peak of his despair, but accidentally the red behelit returns to him — and the eclipse starts.

no need to retell, just want to make clear two things: 1) why did griffith betrayed his friends for batman costume 👻👻👻 2) and why he raped casca

moment №1.

besides obviously outlined in the series “he built his way on corpses and he must go on with no regret blah blah blah ☝☝☝” there is a much more important element of disappointment. like yeah, griffith is definitely disappointed about people and affections by this point. he’s not a leader for his people anymore; if they still feel something for him, it’s more like a pity for the cripple. and of course — guts. affection that cost everything, the reason why he appeared in such a position.

so now he has a choice: to sacrifice something that only ruins and ruins and finally get what he dreamt of the entire life, or to choose things that once already destroyed him and live the rest of the life as a cripple even unable to speak. noble are those who chose the second option, but i absolutely and with no doubts understand griffith’s choice here.

so yeah, now griffith chooses the power over everything indeed. he chooses himself and only. good for him <3

moment №2.

the rape. and the reason why that sacrifice was so bloody and brutal. yeah, all the people who appeared there with griffith went through hell right before their death. i don’t think all these sufferings and such nightmares were needed, like just blood & flesh & bone would be enough to give a body to femto, and still it was as it was. why?

it was said that femto will be born on the ruins of griffith’s dream. THE RUINS. so i think there was ruins of his personality either. during the last year griffith survived dreadful torments, the physical pain he suffered is unimaginable, and the trauma that leaves after such horrible events is immense. and it’s not a rare thing when people who survived violence now want to bring that pain to others — to make others suffer like they have suffered. femto is a product of griffith’s worst angles of personality, of darkest things that lived in him. so yes, everyone had to anguish and die the most dire way possible.

same thing is with casca. griffith NEVER wanted to rape her, like WHY WOULD HE EVEN DO, but he was angry and jealous because guts chose her over him. femto soaked it and just did the worst thing possible to avenge. and THE CORE: femto did it in front of the guts, so HE could watch. it was never about casca. only about guts.

idk what to write in conclusion. griffguts completely devastated me. love is an evil thing. never do such 💋

[luxstring]

Written by the lovely @ceruleancattail , thank you so much for doing this art trade with me, it was a pleasure doing this with you. You were easy to chat with, direct & a fast worker [my god ur speed]. I hope to do another trade with you in the future ^v^. Now I feast.

The abundance of the stars in the sky isn’t something that’s celebrated often enough.

Pollution has congested the sparkling lights above, rendering the night sky as a void rather than the divine sight that our ancestors once behold, many an age ago. If you’re lucky, you’ll see the moon. Maybe the North Star.

That’s about it.

Not that most people notice, either way. Children of men were always so absorbed in their own lives, bustling around here and there in order to strive to make a living. Working, studying, all in a flustered rush.

No one really has time to take it slow and look up anymore. It’s a pity, truly.

For taking it slow is all that Malleus knows.

It’s an unfortunate characteristic of someone of his lifespan. Why rush about when you have quite literally almost all the time in the world? The Fae have long laughed in the face of time, prancing around on earth’s time-worn surfaces still as youthful as the day they were born.

Unfortunately that sort of existence tends to get... lonely, sometimes. Knowing that everyone you meet is flowing in a different time as compared to you. He’s gotten to know many, over the years... he doesn’t know how they’re doing, anymore. Malleus has never been too overly fond of goodbyes.

He loathes them, in fact.

If he had it his way, everyone would last forever, in this picture perfect fairytale with him. Happily ever after, as most stories go. Yet life doesn’t work out that way, does it? So Malleus resigns himself to walking at his own pace, exchanging brief moments of time with the short-lived.

However, it’s surprising to have someone who’s able walk through life the same

“Draconia.”

A soft, gentle voice rung out, as sonorous as a church's bell. It echoed through the silent landscape, a wonderful sound so familiar to Malleus himself. Something he's heard, over and over again, through the flow of time.

A finger pokes Malleus' cheek gently, the touch much like a refreshing night breeze.

"Spacing out again, are we, my prince?"

Chuckling, Malleus shoots the newcomer a gentle smile.

"No. I was simply... appreciating beauty."

A twinkling laugh, as bright as the stars in the sky. A tall figure slides through the foliage, every footstep as light as dewdrops on grass. Grey hair flowed down his scalp, framing his face perfectly. Clear azure eyes peered at Malleus somewhat curiously, a faint amusement twinkling deep within.

The entire world seemed to fall silent when Stolas spoke. As if they were waiting with bated breath just for the sound of his voice. Sometimes, Malleus felt the same way.

It was an odd feeling, really. Malleus wasn't ever one to wait on others. Others waited for him, made allowances for him, as a member of the Draconia family.

His heavy name came with pressure. Malleus was rather accustomed to the weight on his shoulders. A regal mantle laid upon him, to be borne by his body until the day he finally breathes his last. Every single one of his movements was calculated, was done with purpose. Scrutinised by all eyes in the room, whispers echoing off the walls.

However, whenever he was with Stolas, he didn't feel that pressure. There was something about Stolas' manner that set Malleus to ease. Almost like being blanketed by the swirl of stars in the night sky, gently embraced by the night's breeze.

Perhaps it's the maturity of Stolas' age. Malleus admits that it's a comfort to have someone who's lived as long as he has by his side. Perhaps.

The ghost of a grin playing on his lips, Stolas withdraws his finger, chuckling softly.

"You jest. I am not one of your precious gargoyles."

Tilting his head slightly to the side, Malleus regards Stolas with a renewed interest.

"You wouldn't be a gargoyle, Stolas Minci."

Blinking in surprise, Stolas asks:

"Oh? Then do pray tell, what exactly would I be, my dear prince?"

Pausing for a moment, Malleus hums to himself. Carefully thinking about what exactly Stolas was. What he was, to Malleus himself.

Stolas was the faint glow of the stars, pinpricks of light in the night sky. He was the North Star, always within view, ready to guide the lost back home. A reliable presence of stability, a trustworthy being. Someone who's lasted for millennia, still glowing as brightly as he did, decades ago.

Stolas was gentle touches, careful brushing of fingertips against each other then they walked side by side.

Stolas was midnight walks done around campus, silently observing the beauty hidden by the dark shawl of night.

Stolas was... someone Malleus loved, truly and deeply.

Muttering softly, Malleus let those words of truth slip from his lips.

"You are Stolas Minci. Nothing more, nothing less. I wish not for you to change.

You are....precious to me, after all."

[greetingfromthedead]

10. Loose Ends

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.4k

Author's Note: A massive thank you to everyone who has shown support for this series! I can't thank you all enough! It truly means the world to me and it's the whole reason I am really inspired to continue with this series. I can't wait to dive into the next arc, I've had ideas for it for a long time now and I am buzzing to put them into words. Still, it will have to wait as it is time for me to give some attention to my other ongoing series, Vash's Mermaid!AU Depth of Despair. So with my focus shifting to that and other personal life things, Apple Blossoms will be on hold for a little while once again, but not to worry, I have every intention of returning thanks to you! Until I'm back with new updates, perhaps my other writing will hold you off.

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Patient after patient after patient shuffled through the clinic. Quite literally, the whole town stopped by to be seen by you and Jenny. A few were healthy; most needed attention. It seemed never ending. From morning to sundown, you spent tending to the people here. From the walk-ins to the ones you took care of the night you arrived in Silvercrest. Not everything went smoothly. While the treatments seem to be effective, more than a few people got the infection again and required you to repeat the cruel procedure. And still there were those who you couldn't save despite your best efforts.

The nightmares have continued too, haunting you every time you close your eyes. Each morning you wake up in a cold sweat having tossed and turned all night. To your relief, you didn't find yourself curled up in Knives's arms a second time, but from the dark shadows under his eyes, it became clear that he didn't sleep much while you battled with the guilt that came with doing what you had to. So when the receptionist told you that a second room became available, you took it without hesitation, hoping that at least Knives would be able to sleep in peace.

The night you did spend beside him, Knives was awake for all of it. He watched you for hours as you turned one way and the other. He watched the furrow of your brow and heard the choked sounds escaping your lungs. More than once he raised his hand to shake you awake, but then pulled back, reminded of the way you looked pressed against his body and the curve of your side under his arm. He doesn't want a repeat of that; he has enough unwelcome thoughts and feelings inside him as is; he doesn't want any more. Yet when he was left alone in the room after you got your own, it felt empty. And while he refused to admit it, it also felt lonely. It was the first time since arriving under your care that he did not hear you in the night. Even in your house, he heard your mattress squeak as you turned, but now he is left in silence.

"I am sorry it has taken me so long," you say as you remove the stitches from Knives's wound. "I should have done this days ago."

"You talk as if I am the neglected one," Knives replies almost coldly.

Ever since waking up in his embrace, Knives has mostly turned back to the same uninterested and distant facade he used to constantly have up. He speaks less, his answers short and lacking emotion. You really thought you had made progress with him, getting him to open up and speaking to you without hesitation. He hasn't put up all of his defenses, remaining somewhat open for a conversation, but it is nothing compared to what he displayed just a few nights ago.

"What are you saying? I have neglected you." you continue as you pull out another thread, "Part of the reason I dragged you along was to take care of you. Instead, I have put you in danger, taking you with me to see infectious people with festering wounds while you are at high risk. It is irresponsible of me. I am sorry."

"You always find something to apologize for. How irritating." Knives says more to himself than to you. This comment takes you by surprise; it is the first time he has complained about anything. Your forceps snag a little bit of skin, pinching Knives on accident, and you hear an ever so slight hiss as he winces.

"Sorry," you mumble, forcing your head back to the task at hand.

"Here you go again." Knives rolls his eyes at you, determined not to study your face and your hunched over posture as you work on his side. "There is always something."

You fall silent, focusing all your attention on his wound that is mostly healed, but compared to all the other cuts and injuries, this one closes slower. It worries you as you smear some ointment on it before covering it with a clean bandage. You hope it will heal soon, so you can stop fretting about it. The bandage is securely stuck to his skin as you run your fingers along the edges of it, making sure the adhesive does its job. Knives sits shirtless on the chair by the window, his eyes fixed on the view outside. He feels your fingers run gently upward from the bandage, along the red angry lines of his scars. You check them one by one, feeling the raised skin under your touch, making sure they are healing properly. Knives senses the tingle of where your fingers have been and the anticipation of where they will go next. You don't cause him pain, but he still feels uncomfortable, exposed, and strangely vulnerable. You lift his arm to check on the cuts there and to make sure the joints work as they should.

"What are you doing?" he asks without turning his head towards you.

"Making sure you've healed up well."

"You haven't been that thorough in a while."

"I should have been," you answer, but as you don't get a reply, it makes it clear he knows you're at least partially lying. "Fine, I am stalling. But that doesn't mean I am not interested in your wellbeing."

"Stalling? Thought you would be running out the first chance you get, just like every morning, neglecting to get enough sleep and food. Just rushing off to fix everybody, whatever it means."

"I want to leave this place. As soon as possible," you admit, "I've been hurrying, both to help these people but also to get everything to a point where Jenny can take over. We need to leave."

"Does it have anything to do with that military police officer? Stephen?" Knives asks, shocking you with the insight.

Stephen arrived shortly after you did with his partner, but while the other man left, Stephen stayed in town. He gave the excuse of being worried since he is almost a local to the area. He kept coming by the clinic and lending a hand wherever he could or you would let him. Every day he returned, talking to you, asking if you would have time for him, each time you brushed him off.

"It has everything to do with him," you sigh, finishing your examination of a scar that runs across his chest, and you look up just as Knives turns to face you. "Listen to me."

Knives is immediately captured by your gaze. Your face is so close to his as you look up at him, your hand still resting on his chest. The same annoying fluttering pit forms in his stomach; part of him wants to pull away, the other one is completely paralyzed by the sight of you.

"He shouldn't be underestimated," you emphasize. "He acts like an ass, but he is actually smarter than he looks. As long as I can excuse hiding our faces, I have hope, but he will get suspicious soon. He will recognize you, and I want to be long gone before he realizes anything of the sort."

"So it's not that you want to leave, but that you want to get me out of his radar," Knives speaks, his eyes slipping over your face, from your eyes to your lips.

"Yes and no. I don't want to put up with him, yet I might make an exception so I could stay and take care of the people here. But I made a promise, and until all your wounds have healed, I will not let you wander off, and I will do what I have to to keep you safe."

"All that for a troublesome promise," he mumbles, more to himself than to you, as he looks into your eyes again. They seem so fearless and so kind. That's not how humans look at him. He remembers enough to know that. "You don't have to keep it."

"I do and I will," you smile and pull back, taking your hand from his chest, where it lingered for too long. "We're almost there. It's just the one that's still left, then you can finally get rid of me."

A horrible thought crosses Knives's mind for just a moment. That singular, unwelcome intrusive thought passes so quickly and is so thoroughly shoved aside that Knives can almost pretend like it was never there. But it was. He doesn't want your time together to end. Quickly he conjures up a hundred excuses to justify that thought in case it does emerge from its banishment. He is just using you: for resources, for knowledge, as a guide, as a potential bargening chip. Everything he can think of to justify that blip of a thought and the stinging feeling in his chest that accompanied it.

"Yes. You can focus all your energy on others without having to worry about how I am doing. You can go your own way and not be kept back," Knives asys, standing up to pull the shirt over his head.

"Well, not quite," you scoff, cleaning up after yourself. "I have grown quite used to your company, and I will continue to worry no matter what. I told you I would."

You did as much as you could. You wrote down treatment plans and recipes for pain medications. You helped to take inventory of the supplies, and you taught Jenny more tricks she might need. Everything you could think of, you passed on to her. She took it well, telling you over and over again that the worst is now over thanks to you.

"I will come back. As soon as possible, I will come and check on everyone. I'm just going to go get some supplies; I am all out of medications," you explain.

"Well, it might take you longer than you think to get those supplies," Marvin chimes in. "The trading routes have dried up; not much is moving along them 'cause the stores are empty. They brought what was left last time around."

"You can stock up on what we have here. It's the least we can offer," Jenny suggests.

"No," you shake your head. "You will need all of it; I can't take it."

"Your best bet is Octovern City. From what I've heard, the newcomers set up their base of operation there. If it is true that they are offering supplies there, you should go stock up. While you're at it, maybe you can get us some of the potent stuff too, just until we get back on our feet. We will fund our share, of course."

You know Marvin is right; your best bet is indeed Octovern now that November has been decimated. But taking Knives any closer to the brunt of Earth's forces and the location that turned out to be humanity's last stand on this planet would be far too risky. But there isn't a better plan you can think of either.

"Yeah, you're probably right," you sigh. "If there's any place to get medical supplies, it's probably there, but it is a long way away. I'll go along the villages; maybe I will get lucky, and there are some traders around that can give me a boost in that regard."

"Maybe you don't have to go all the way to Octovern; perhaps the traders are stocking up there for the journey back." Jenny suggests.

"If that were true, we wouldn't be scrambling for supplies," Marvin explains. "Doesn't mean there aren't traders dealing, just that those are not our guys."

"Yeah. There are always resellers; they just haven't made their way here yet. If I am lucky, I won't have to go all the way to the city; I can return sooner in that case." you contemplate, partially telling the truth but leaving out the part where you're traveling with a wanted criminal.

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow!" Jenny exclaims sadly, "There is so much more I want to learn from you! And I am so grateful you came!"

"Yeah, I really don't want to think about what would have happened if you didn't arrive so quickly. Thank you. And tell Dave we are grateful for him too." Marvin says with a smile.

"You're welcome! I will be back. I believe in you, Jenny!" you say.

"I promise I will do everything just like you showed me and just like you wrote down! Everyone will be in top shape when you return!" Jenny promises, and you can't help but look at her warmly. You know the people here are in good hands. She is a quick study and takes long strides in her work.

"I wish you the best of luck! I do believe things are looking up, but it is too early to say for sure," you remark, standing up to head out. "Keep up the great work, and I will see you tomorrow. I gotta make sure I have all we need for the road."

You go back to the clinic, only lighting the one oil lamp that you need to shuffle through the supplies to find the bags you brought yourself. The room is quiet, so different now in the dim circle of light compared to the daytime when the suns pour their brilliance in through the windows, the silence replaces the chatter and yelps of pain and surprise. You find the bags you took with you and sort through them, dividing them up into what Jenny might need and the bare minimum you want to keep for yourself to hold you off until you can stock up. Some bandages, suture kits, small vials of strong alcohol, one dose of painkillers, tools, cloth, and cotton. The pile you're willing to leave behind is larger than what you plan on taking with you, compressing the multiple filled bags into just one. You pick out your water skins, filling four of them for the journey ahead and leaving the others. Moving from village to village has its advantages, including not needing to bring too many supplies, counting on the ability to restock on your way.

You're almost ready when you hear the clinic doors open, and you assume it is Jenny or Marvin who followed you, but the heavy boots quickly tip you off. Turning around, you see Stephen's silhouette approaching, with his back straight and chest puffed out in a self assured manner, displaying all of the confidence of a military police officer.

"Good evening, Mousey," he speaks softly, but you hear an edge to his voice.

"Evening, Stephen. How may I help you?" you echo back, staying cordial.

"Why so formal? You act as if we're strangers. You'll hurt my feelings like this," he says more lightly, but you recognize that there is more hiding behind those words. "I am here to ask for you to join me for a drink, like always. You deserve it, and as I hear, you're leaving town tomorrow morning."

Jenny must have told him. She is a chatterbox, and while it usually plays into her strengths, in this situation you wish she would have stayed quiet. Not that she knows that she should; you haven't told her anything that would make her think that.

"Yes, I am needed elsewhere too. I have to pack up my things, so I am sorry, I don't have the time to have a drink with you," you try to brush him off, turning away from him again to collect your things that you plan on taking with you.

Stephen comes closer, standing just a step away from you, and says, "You know I don't like to be told no."

"Yes, that's why we find ourselves in this situation in the first place," you respond firmly, a touch of impatience seeping in.

You feel his hand land on your shoulder as he turns you around. His towering figure takes a step closer, making you press yourself against the edge of the table and tilt your body back. The lamplight casts long shadows on his face, emphasizing the darkness in his eyes.

"How long do you think you can keep avoiding me?" He asks in a low voice. He tilts his head as he leans closer. Your fingers hurt from the force with which you clench the edge of the steel table. His hands hover just over your cheeks, like wishing to cup them in his palms but being unable to follow through.

"You should know," you nearly spit the answer out. "I told you that I don't want anything to do with you anymore the day that I left you. Just leave me alone."

"But I don't want to," he whispers, his eyes looking into you with a fire in them.

"I don't care," you hiss, not looking away from him.

"But you care about everybody else."

"There was a time when I cared about you too."

The clinic doors open again, one side swinging outward with enough force to slam into the wall with a loud crash. It makes Stephen back off. He straightens up, his arms lowering to his sides, but his eyes never leave yours. His lips turn into a tight line, as if holding back a flood of words.

"I guess I can give you a rain check on that drink. I understand that you are busy," he says more gently than before, but you don't believe the tenderness of his tone.

He backs away further before turning away from you, giving you the chance to shift your gaze to the door. A large, broad shouldered figure stands in the doorway, holding open the door. He doesn't say anything, but you recognize him anyway. The sight of Knives ties your stomach into knots; your only hope is that it is too dark for Stephen to see his uncovered face. For good measure, you shift yourself more in front of the oil lamp, and you see how the officer only briefly looks at Knives, probably recognizing him as your so called apprentice but not seeing enough to get suspicious about his true identity. Neither of them says a word as they stare at each other.

As Stephen leaves, a moment of tense silence remains before you finally let out a long, slow breath and relax, leaning against the table not in fear but in relief. With a squeak, the doors of the clinic close, and Knives takes a few steps closer.

"How did you get here?" you finally ask him. "I thought I told you to stay in the inn."

"I did; I was looking at the books when Marvin came in and told me you needed some help." Knives speaks, his voice level and unbothered as usual, but you see his clenched fist and wonder why that is.

You're not sure if Marvin suspected Stephen giving you trouble or if he wanted you to have a hand with packing up. Whatever the reason, you're grateful for Knives's arrival.

"Thank you for coming to help me," you say softly. "I packed up our things. I think we should take them back to the inn, in case someone comes and messes up my system."

You watch as he walks closer. Unlike Stephen, his presence makes you feel safe and glad that he is here. Somehow you get captured by the shadows dancing on his shirt and on his face; you don't move even as he stands before you. His face is the same as usual; it doesn't depict any particular emotion; it seems cold and uninterested, but his blue eyes looking into yours reveal something you haven't noticed before—a hint of something more, a flicker of some sort of emotion. You can't quite put your finger on it, but it's there.

He reaches past you to take the strap of one of the bags; by doing so, he leans closer, and you get a whiff of his familiar scent. His eyes remain on yours, piercing through the silent tension between you. It is a stark contrast to how Stephen made you feel just moments ago. Knives's presence isn't threatening to you; it makes you feel safe, but also something else, a feeling of longing and comfort that you can't quite explain. As he helps you with the bags, you can't help but wonder what goes on inside his head. What does he think, and why did he slam the door the way he did?

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[nayatarot777]

karma for your abusive father

• pile one •

cards:

inner child

faceless ghosts and the haunted girl - “ghost people”

athame - boundaries

sundress - “do it for you”

fragmentation

eistibus- “angel of divination”

the first thing that i’m seeing is that his inner child wounds will be deeply triggered - especially any abandonment wounds that he may have. he seems very selfish and he’s leading himself down the path of being completely alone. many people will put up boundaries with him, and he’s going to be haunted by the past. he’s losing connections with people who could’ve been of extreme help and value to him. but his selfishness is what will push everyone away. he’s going to suffer from either mental health issues or maybe even spiritual damage. he could be getting spiritually attacked by someone, and this is deeply effecting his psyche. if you have put any spell-work on him, it’s working. spiritually and mentally, he’s definitely going to be fragmented. i’m seeing major depression. he’s going to have to know that you’re living life completely for yourself without the need for any help from him. any boundaries that you put up with him is going to really bother him too. you could have siblings who also cut him off, and he’s going to be followed by all of his fuck ups and mistakes when having to think about this. he’s plagued with peter pan syndrome. never wanting to actually grow up and mature. being a child in an adult’s body while being a mess of a person at the same time. his karma is mainly you protecting yourself from him as well as many others. this is what’s leading him to his loneliness where he has to sit alone with his thoughts that he can’t run away from. he’s going to have to see you live life in the way that you want to and lead yourself to accepting yourself radically and relentlessly - something that he has never done for himself. which is probably why he tries to tear down anyone’s self esteem that he can. but he’s going to be left as the lonely, broken person that he tried to harm other people into being. he’s not going to feel any type of happiness or fulfilment. at all. aries energy is prevalent here.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 💖

• pile two •

cards:

home

library - “take control of your own narrative”

atonement

strange valentine - love is strange!

hearth - homecoming

raziel - angel of mysteries

your father is going to really have to pay for whatever he’s done. he’s manipulative. constantly trying to lie and change the narrative of a story. particularly regarding with what happened within the home or your childhood home. he’s going to have to face major judgement for this. there’s a point where he can no longer lie, and i’m seeing him face a lot of backlash from others - maybe extended family. whatever secrets that he’s keeping is coming to the frontline. if your father is weird af in his relationships - like dating much younger women, or teenage girls, then i feel like this is something that is kept quite hidden. there’s a repetition of the home as a topic in his karma. if he’s abusive towards a partner, i’m seeing this partner telling someone about it. perhaps contacting someone like a family member from “back home”. he’s going to be a puppet on a string for someone. this could even be something extreme like blackmail for some of you, from the very same person who he assumed was too naive or easily-controlled to take a stand for themselves. he’s going to be forced to ask for forgiveness. he could literally have to “move back home”. whether that’s with a sister specifically or some other family member, and this would be due to losing his home. i’m getting a really sick message, so feel free to skip the following sentences: your father could be a major creep towards you. he could’ve completely been inappropriate with you in an extremely sick and weird way, and if that applies then i’m extremely sorry that you had to go through this. but this is the secret that will cause him to be exposed for who he truly is. you could be the person who he thought was too under his control to actually expose anything, but i’m seeing that you know exactly how fucking weird he is. he underestimates that. and this doesn’t have to be anything like extreme abuse (although it definitely could be) but perhaps this is about your father being emotionally incestuous and treating you more like a partner (putting weird ass standards and expectations onto you, your body, what you wear, etc) than his own fucking child. he’s getting so much karma from this. overall, everyone will eventually turn his back on him and he’ll really be put into the position of asking for forgiveness. not that this would make any difference.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 🤍

• pile three •

cards:

wild

red - “forgive”

sacrifice

marie masquerade - “glamour, intrigue, and drama”

samhain - death

uriel - “angel of flame”

your father is going to be plagued by a turbulent life, full of dramatic situations and stresses. and i’m seeing that your father could be a cheater. a womaniser. he acts like he can’t control his actions towards “sexual temptations”. he’s going to be finessed and played by a woman to the highest degree. a young woman who knows how to use her looks to her advantage. he’s going to fall for this like the no-self-control-having, thirsty person that he is. and she’s going to be a dark divine feminine that is coming in to be your father’s karma. this entire situation could lead to your father being exposed as a cheater which would result in the complete destruction and ending of something that he has built - i’m seeing tomatoes so this most likely relates to the family dynamic. there’s definitely going to be a major ending for him that is going to make him feel like his life is in complete rubbles. he’s going to have to sacrifice something too. something that he thought that he was ready and prepared to bear the fruits of, but it’s being ripped away. or someone’s going to sacrifice him and cut him out of their life (for some of you, it’s your mother). he’s not going to receive any forgiveness for whatever he has done. his karma could even be getting his ass beat with this “angel of flame” card. he could have a temper and be so used to being able to snap on people without consequences, but he will try the wrong one - one day. and his ego is going to be humbled greatly. i’m seeing continuous trickery throughout this reading though. i really feel like he’s going to be tricked, played, and exposed for who he actually is. and he’s going to be left in a state of not being able to find value in anything - even if he’s at least financially abundant after this karma hits, it won’t matter. what he decided to prioritise won’t bring him any type of fulfilment or peace, and he’ll be left with what he was chasing after this whole time - but without whatever this is that he seems to regret losing at this point. whatever it is that he felt brought him security that he doesn’t deserve. he’s going to feel like he’s having to navigate something completely foreign to him after this - like he’s a teenager or a young adult figuring out life for the first time, all over again.

if you’d like a private reading, then please check out my pinned post 🧡

[littlemissmanga]

Hey love! Here with that quote i was talking about!

“may my heart

be the softest place you fall,

may this love

be the wildest place you run”

Let your inspiration flow and decide which clone boy this vibes best for! 🩵

DUDE I was struck with instant inspiration when I saw this. That is a beautiful quote! This was almost stream of conscious writing and I am actively in love with it. Thank you so much for this prompt!

Wedding Speech

Pairing: Echo x Reader

W/C: 490

Warnings: None, slightly emotional but happy, so much fluff

The clinking of glasses fills the room, slowly at first until the cacophony echoes through the hall. The chatter of conversation falls away in much the same way, ending with a deafening silence.

You steady your breathing, actively keeping the tremor in your hands minute enough that you can read off your datapad. Opening your mouth, you realize you forgot your own glass. You hurriedly grab it before looking out at your family and friends, the warmth from their gazes flooding you.

“Welcome,” you say, letting your voice rise from your chest to carry through the room. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate our wedding. I know it was a long time coming.” A gentle laughter rolls from table to table, a few teasing looks are tossed your new husband’s way.

Husband. The word still felt odd, foreign. But so right it fills you with certainty.

“I promise I won’t keep you long. I just have a few words for my husband, and I wanted you all to hear them, too. They would have been vows, but someone didn’t get around to writing his.”

Playful jeering has your spouse rolling his eyes and shouting at his brothers. “We were literally running from the Empire!” His reasonable defense garners no sympathy. You are clearly their favorite.

When the roar calms to a whisper, you continue.

“My love, I know the road you’ve walked has not been an easy one. Some parts were quite lonely. My own has had some rough bumps, too. And while I wish I could take away your pain, I can’t regret the circumstances that brought you to me.

“Now, our paths have merged into one. I cannot promise the road ahead of us will be smooth. In fact, we both know it likely won’t be. But what I can promise is that you will never again walk it alone.”

You hear and feel your voice shaking, but it still rings clear and loud. You take a quick, shallow breath, knowing you are going to lose your composure as soon as you lift your eyes to meet your husband’s. A smile overtakes your lips without conscious thought as you vision blurs.

“No matter what we face, I pray that my heart will be the softest place you fall, and this love be the wildest place you run. I love you, Echo.”

You blink at your tears, forcing them over your lids to slide down your cheeks. With clearer vision, you can finally see how Echo is looking at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen. All the love that fills your heart to bursting is reflected back at you in his eyes.

He stands and in one quick step, his arm is around you and his lips are on you, kissing you deeply. Claiming you in front of everyone who means something to you for the second time that day.

“I love you so much, cyar’ika.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @freesia-writes @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @@dystopicjumpsuit

[nalpurex]

i got souyo brainworms again and i gotta share some thoughts i have

this ones a long one so ill put a 'keep reading' thing here just in case yall dont wanna scroll past a wall of text

basically some headcanons about a healthy mix of chad narukami and normal yu, injecting loads of gap moe into this guy

(and it eventually devolves into some weird semi-story because my brains really spiralling here)

okok so, hear me out, chad narukami isnt that bad as an idea...? maybe as a more calm iteration, just another layer to yu

in the p4 manga, we get to see some of yu's backstory. (its been a while since ive read it so i might get some details wrong but) his parents are very busy people, always working and moving around, so yu's always moving around with them

because of this, hes a very independent but also lonely kid. poor guy doesnt talk much with his own mom and dad, and he never really have a good enough chance to form lasting friendships

so when he moves to inaba and starts making friends there, hes like 'oh i really want to keep these guys around...' so he starts putting up a bit of a persona (hah), some cool, unfazed guy that everyone can rely on thinking thats what people might like more. to his credit, it works pretty well, but its a bit stifling for yu himself. hes never had this many friends though, so he'll keep it up

we all know yosuke admires him quite a fair bit as is, just as a dependable friend and a strong leader. he looks up to yu in these aspects, thinking hes basically the perfect guy. (and lets never unpack that thought.) talented, charming, 'gets all the ladies', that kind of stuff

at some point its just the two of them, maybe walking home from school or something, yu gets pretty comfortable and his facade slips a little. maybe he says something completely silly, or heavens forbid theres a stray cat along the road! ("awww look at the little guy, cmeree, pspsps- oh- ahem- uh, its pretty cute...") it surprises yosuke quite a bit. he's thinking about it a lot as they part ways, it was... definitely a new side to his partner, but its also not a bad thing...

after that, yosuke starts noticing more small things about yu. whenever he invites anyone to share his lunch, its always something they like. whenever the IT are talking, he makes sure no one feels left out. he likes cats, a lot more than hes willing to show, and he loves nanako a whole lot too. his partner's... a bit of a softie under that calm and collected vibe, isnt he?

(alternatively, it'd be really funny if the entire IT knew? like "yeah, hes got a straight face all the time and sparkles fly around him whenever he strikes a pose, but hes got a dedicated schedule for hanging out with us and hes always asking when we're free. hes a big puppy, really.")

anyways, yosuke tries to encourage him to show more of this other side of him. stuff like "c'mon, we'll think you're cool either way!" and yu at first is a little hesitant, so yosuke suggests he just try it out with him

he feels some pride about it, because hes the first to learn about this side of yu! his partner trusts him the most, hes the most comfortable around him! (whats this strange other feeling? hm. dont like that.)

yu takes a little more time with the others, but theyre very welcoming about it nonetheless. specifically, they find it very charming! (making cute shapes in your bento? sewing cute stuffed toys with kanji? playing with literally every single stray cat you lay your eyes on? hell yeag.)

of course the facade doesnt completely shatter, because some parts of it are still true to yu. its just that he'll now crack the dumbest joke youve heard in your life with the same old straight face

(aaand now to derail for the sappy stuff huhuhu)

because yosuke's usually the first to be exposed to whatever new shenanigans yu's up to, eventually he starts getting some... weirder things. he brings some of it up to the other IT members and he looks insane, like:

"what? he hasnt been giving you guys origami?"

"why would he? i mean itd be cool, but thats just his part-time job isnt it? hes probably sick of paper cranes!"

"cranes... haha, yeah..." (as he thinks about the row of stupid paper animals sitting on his windowsill)

yu over time starts getting real sweet with yosuke, and he kind of gets the feeling he should just... keep this to himself...? especially when he doesnt see him acting this way with anyone else, and a small part of him wants to keep it to himself. all of this, just for him.

but that would be kind of gay, wouldnt it? hes not gay, is he...? he gets pretty happy whenever yu smiles at him, whenever he does something for him, but its just because he appreciates him as his partner... right?

eventually it all comes to a head when yu invites him to that... that spot high up in inaba. (ykno the one, its got the railing and shit.)

yosuke's climbing the hill, wondering whats yu gonna tell him, and at the top he sees him already waiting there as the sun's about to set on a nice breezy day

he kinda jokes a bit about it, like "damn did you ask me to come here now for the atmosphere?" but yu's strangely quiet

so they kinda just stand in a bit of an awkward silence before yu clears his throat... and confesses to yosuke.

...

they just. stare at each other for a bit. yosuke's at a loss, heat slowly rising in his cheeks, because what the hell?

and then yu explodes into a flustered mess, bumbling about "hey yeah man you dont have to accept if you dont wanna, i was just saying things yknow? you dont really have to-"

yosuke cuts him off, sighing a little. he tells him its okay, hes kinda had a feeling he felt the same way but he wasnt ready yet... and now his partner's confessing to his face, he cant really put it off anymore, can he?

("by the way, did you plan this? like, the timing and everything?"

"i... had a hard enough time saying 'i like you' with a straight face as it was, i kind of had to..."

"... ah.")

[lily-alphonse]

hihi!! i read ur sandy fic literally today and i couldn't get it out of my head im so obsessed😭it hurts SO good i just finished rereading it again, and I was wondering, since Steve refuses to talk about his previous experience at the End, what actually happened there? :0 (sorry if this is smth that's easy to piece together I'm not very bright sometimes T-T) Also, did you have any ideas on stuff that happened in other cycles that you didn't end up including? Hehe, personally my headcanon is that for their first hug in a future reunion, Steve would try to hug Sandy for as long as he can before Sandy learns that it hurts him, so that he can get his proper hug dosage in. Sandy give that lonely man a hug damnit :') He's been waiting for like 3 lifetimes!!

EEEEEEEEE

Ok first, if you are reading this and haven't read Sandy: An Enderman Tale, here is the AO3 link, this is going to be a spoiler-filled discussion

And second I want everyone to know that fic writers DIE for this level of engagement, I'm deceased, melted into the ground and incredibly flattered, thank you 😭🪦

Now to answer

Oh gosh the End. Oh man. Well consider this, right. How many Enderman does the average player have to kill to even open the End portal?

😬

Lmao yeah... that's... not something Steve is proud of.

I hadn't put much thought into it before but here is how I imagine things would have gone before the events of the fic, which will also explain Steve's hangups surrounding the End.

Steve wakes up in the world of Minecraft with no memory. He only knows his name, and that he is not of this world. He begins as an even more reckless adventurer than he is now, and just wants to experience everything the world has to offer

He kills a ton of Enderman and uses their pearls to find and open the portal. He knows somehow this portal is his escape out of this world

He makes it to the End and dies in his first attempt to kill the dragon. It was a rash decision to even try, he isn't even all that certain he wants to leave this world yet. He intends to go back some day, maybe once he is tired of being immortal.

It is at this point that he meets Sandy. Sandy saves Steve, playing out much like chapter 1 except for more hesitance on Steve's part. They have a tenuous ally-ship, mostly held up by the fact that Sandy won't quit following Steve.

Steve is hesitant to accept that Sandy could be good because of all of the Endermen he's slain assuming they were mindless monsters. What if one of them was Sandy? What if they are all like Sandy?

While he is in denial and trying to process, Sandy just keeps following him. Like I'm imagining he even builds a base under a lake only for Sandy to pop in as soon as he builds a ceiling tall enough lol

Steve lashes out at Sandy in misdirected anger at himself. Ok wait Ive just decided something very dramatic, he strikes Sandy when they won't stop following him. He's almost surprised when Sandy subsequently goes insane and hits him back, and he actually ends up killing them.

Instant regret. The Enderpearl left behind fucking haunts him. He goes to the End again out of desperation. Maybe there is some kind of answer to be found there, maybe Sandy will respawn there somewhere.

He finds nothing. It's exactly like the last time. Just endstone and faceless Endermen and a dragon that wants to kill him. But in a way everything has changed since the last time he was here. HE isn't the same.

As a last ditch effort, or maybe feeling sorry for himself, he makes eye contact with an Enderman. Sandy doesn't come to save him this time, and he is ripped apart. It feels fitting, in any case, that they should have a tiny taste of retribution for what he's done to them.

A long time passes before he encounters Sandy again. He's decided he's not leaving this world. Clearly there is so much more to experience that he can't even fathom, if his friendship with Sandy was even possible.

When Sandy finds him again he is beside himself, and actually scares Sandy away with his intense reaction. So he learns to be more casual about it in the future lol. He also learns that explaining what happened at the End is a no-no, because when he mentioned attacking the Enderdragon, Sandy got angry and went away for a long time.

There is a lot of trial and error in this go around. Sandy would either die because of rain or getting in the way of a monster again. Or maybe they attempt the Nether and Steve learns, no more Nether, lmao.

I did want to expand on the concept of the End with that in mind. It becomes sort of a symbol of his past failures and who he used to be. Even the fact that he nearly killed the Enderdragon and escaped this place haunts him.

He still has a lot of growing to do, he still displays selfishness and recklessness, but his relationship with Sandy is steadily making him a better person.

I love that you have a headcanon that's so fun for me. I would also like them to have a very long hug BUT it wouldn't be in the beginning since Sandy is easily spooked at first. At the end of the last chapter, Sandy is more accepting of the physical affection. So it just takes a while for them to warm up to the idea. It would prbly also help if Steve didn't make them kill him at any point lol. I see them making hugs a regular thing in a future lifetime, as long as Star is sitting somewhere out of sight!

Thank you for your ask and your incredible support my heart is warm ♥️

[be-my-ally]

Do you mind?

This is pure, meet-cute, fluff where literally nothing happens. For the prompt - “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.” 

thanks to @whositmcwhatsit for the game + @thatbanditqueen for the prompt + @ellie-24 , @vintageshanny , @missmaywemeetagain + @from-memphis-with-love for the fun!!

I super stupidly got a lil bit confused with scheduling this post so ... it's uhh.... by my attempts at scheduling the post 13 hours early, but actually 11 hours late. many apologies folks.

It’s overwhelming - the noise, the people, the conversations. You just need five minutes to yourself, time to take a breather, and try and get yourself back together. You hadn’t known everyone was going to be bringing a partner, or a date, to this party; you’d managed to forgive Nancy for it, because she was the one picking you up (or rather Paul,  her date, was driving) but you had felt blindsided when the group was waiting outside, double the size you had expected since everyone had their plus ones. It was meant to be casual, the birthday party of Sharon’s brother - the perfect excuse for a get-together of people who were now all busy with their own lives. It was meant to have been a chance for you and your friends to catch up and have some fun; you’d all agreed to attend as a group - no partners. Worse than being blindsided as the only girl solo was how left-out you were feeling, it was just making you feel lonely. 

You make your way across the lobby, desperate to find somewhere quiet - away from the other event rooms, or guests. Build yourself back up to going in, stay for the toasts and leave politely after another half hour. You check the time on the large clock above the reception desk as you wander past; half past eleven. A pitiful time to be wanting to leave a party. You want to roll your eyes, internally berating yourself for being so overdramatic. You cringe as you think about how much you’re now looking forward to being tucked up in bed, cup of tea in hand, with perhaps one of the gossip magazines you’d picked up earlier in the week and how much you wished you could just skip this whole party.  It’s quite a large hotel, and there’s several reception and event rooms but eventually, on the other side of the lobby, you stumble into an empty and dark space; seemingly some sort of library/games room situation, judging from the bookshelves surrounding the walls.

You look around, seeing, in the barely-there dim light from the hallway that allowed the objects in the room to be just visible, a little couch nestled in a corner. You practically throw yourself onto it, burrowing your head into the cushion. Ugh, it had been frustrating, and ultimately overwhelming to have to continue to answer the exact same questions again and again from the other people at the party - the same two worded responses coming out of your mouth. 

Where was your boyfriend? Not here. Did you come with a date? Not today. Are you still ‘going’ with Daniel? Not anymore. Sorry to hear about your dad. Thank You. They almost all responded with a similar politely sad but evidently morbidly curious face; clearly desiring to know if your break-up had occurred before or after your father’s funeral, or wanting to know more details in general. It had almost been worse when the questions had ended and small-talk had resumed; relief at the chance to not have to explain your life, but annoyance that it was clearly only because word had spread about your situation. You kick your feet against the sofa cushions still feeling your upset rise again at the memory of being stood in your group of friends while everyone around you laughed about their wedding plans with no regard for the fact that most of them knew that you and Daniel had broken up almost a month ago. 

You reach out, fingertips knocking against something, before your fingers curl under the cushion. 

You scream into it, muffling the noise - as frustrated as you were it would be mortifying to be found like this. You relax for a second as you lose your breath, for some, potentially insane reason you can feel your annoyance lessening and your body starting to release the tension it had been holding. You ready yourself for another, 

But you’re distracted when you take another breath, ready to go again, by a faint cough in the opposite corner. 

“Do you mind?” Your head whirls around, noticing for the first time, a man sat in an armchair on the other side. You push the cushion you’d been screaming into back into its place as surreptitiously as possible, blushing at the idea that someone had just witnessed your behaviour. 

“I came here to get away from other people.” He says it in such a tone that you’re immediately annoyed again, who was he to speak to you like that? You scoff, nose wrinkling; 

“Huh? Well yeah, me too.” He makes a wordless harrumphing noise and you roll your eyes. “I have just as much of a right to be here as you do.”  He doesn’t respond - standing up and starting to walk over to the sofa. He walks through the streak of light shining across the floor from the window in the door and you quickly realise why his voice had seemed familiar. You blink, slightly dazed at seeing Elvis walking towards you, frantically sitting up and smoothing out your skirt; panicked voice in your head telling you to be calm, it’s ok, he’s just a man, don’t panic.

He plops himself down beside you, for a man claiming he was out here to get away from people he had clearly been desperate for company, leaning back against the cushions. He angles himself sideways to get a better look at you, and you tuck your legs up - deciding there was little point in pretending to be all prim and proper when he had just witnessed your miniature breakdown. It means you can sit sideways on the couch - examining his side profile. His hair is coiffed within an inch of its life and it immediately makes you want to muss it up, you wonder if he feels the relief you do when you can finally brush out your Elnett. You sit in silence for a moment, but you can’t resist for much longer than a couple of minutes. 

“What - What are you doing out here?” You glance at his fancy looking suit and tie, “You, uh, here for a party?” He shakes his head at your tentative questions, glancing over at you, 

“it’s a- uh benefit thing but it’s really just an excuse for everyone to hound me for somethin’ or other, half of the producers are in there… they want me to do more movies, I don’t know - I, I,  shouldn’t tell you this but I’m not happy with them at the moment and I-I want to go back to the music but…I don’t know.” You frown, having no idea how to respond to that, hesitating briefly before patting his arm gently. 

“Oh, that sounds awful - you should be able to do whatever you want to do.” He huffs a little laugh at that, staring across the room before turning back to you, 

“Anyway honey, what’s got you all screamin’ into that little pillow - what’d it ever do to you?” He smiles as you blush, you were still hoping that by some miracle he might not have noticed that - although you suppose a screaming girl flinging herself onto a sofa was pretty obvious. 

It sounds trivial and childish when you try to explain, especially in the face of his own, clearly much larger and important problems; “‘s just - I’ve had this difficult break up recently, and all my friends were gonna come to this party solo but they’ve, they’ve actually all brought their partners and I’m just, all on my own. I just, I didn’t want to come anyway but I definitely wouldn’t have agreed to come if I’d known!” 

“Pretty thing like you couldn’t get a date?” You blink at him, he’s turned the charm on full force and it feels almost a bit much to have his bright eyes focussed on you. 

“No-no it wasn’t like that,” You’re quick to deny that it was something you’d failed to do, “I didn’t know! They all told me we were coming together!” He laughs, a little cruelly, 

“And you believed ‘em?” You frowned, squirming a little - you had believed them, perhaps in sheer desperation to make it worthwhile leaving your house, or from the belief that they also wanted to spend time with you. You shrug, unsure what else to say, you wish you weren’t going home to an empty house, you wish you’d at least been able to have fun this evening, but it wasn’t like you’d be able to do anything about it now. You change the subject, 

“Tell me more about the movies, do you not like making them?” You tried to remember if you’d even been to see his latest release, but couldn’t even remember the name to suggest it wasn’t as bad as he thought. He looks pleased that you’re interested, and starts to chat away - explaining his reservations with the soundtracks, and filming methods. You are listening, but there’s something about his voice, and while you’re interested in what he’s telling you, fascinated by the glimpse into an industry so removed from your everyday life as he starts to go into the intricacies of his studio contracts you can feel your attention beginning to wane. Your eyes starting to drift close, and your head dipping towards his shoulder. A moment later his hand, somehow simultaneously heavy and delicate, brushes your shoulder, startling you out of your relaxed almost-asleep state. 

“C’mon honey, who’s gonna take you home? You got a car?” You blink, shaking your head, 

“No, no I’m uh, No, I got a ride here - It’s not far though,” You shrug, “I can get a cab, or walk.” He frowns at you, 

“You’re dead on your feet,” He looks at you sideways, as if assessing you for something, “I got a room upstairs, you can join me if you like?” You blink properly awake at that, a surge of anxiety rippling through you - as much as you’d want to you’re not ready for anything intimate again, too fragile. The idea of having to turn down Elvis though is sending your heart racing. 

“I don’t, I don’t know if I can, I haven’t, not with just anyone and my, my, boy-my ex-boyfriend he was uh, no I think I really ought to go home.” He nods, a little sadly, 

“Well that’s alright sweetheart, if you want, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea - just, just offering to, uh, sleep mama, that’s all.” He looks back at you, completely earnest, eyes wide, and you can feel yourself caving in, 

“Well alright then. But, no funny business.” He does a scout salute as he beams at you, and you giggle - relaxing again; you know you shouldn’t trust him, he’s still a man you’ve just met and yet he just gives off an air, that you somehow know you’ll be safe with him. 

Your nerves skyrocket as he pulls you by the hand into the elevator, you hope he can’t feel your anxiety through your clammy hands, and you wonder how it is that he was just able to sneak away so easily. He starts to talk in the confined space, you wonder if he can tell you were getting nervous, telling you,

“I’m not sure if it’s the same thing,” Looking a little nervous himself, “Because I haven’t - haven’t uh had a split, but I, I get lonely too. I just, just like having someone ‘round to uh, take care of… or take care of me.” He whispers it like a secret and your heart aches a little for him, but before you can respond the doors are opening and he’s pulling you down the hallway. It’s not that late so you don’t expect for him to immediately be directing you through to the bathroom, instructing you to get ready for bed, but you also can’t find the energy to protest. 

You’re glad, now you’re thinking about it, that you didn’t bother with too-much make up, as you inspect your face, hopeful that keeping it on throughout the night won’t make you break out too much. His voice though chimes in through the door - almost as if he could hear your thoughts; 

“There’s cold cream on the side there, honey.” You’re pleased, but also a little disconcerted - was that how many women he had over? Your eyes rove over the counter, seeing the little jar on the side, and you reach for it - before noticing the little stack of eyeliners and mascaras, oh, it’s for him. You hate that that makes you feel better - you shouldn’t be feeling jealous, he’d invited you up here to sleep, because it was convenient. Nothing else. 

You leave the bathroom, having taken the pins out of your hair and brushed it out, and face fresh from being washed to find him waiting for you. He had already gotten himself changed - monogrammed silk-satin pyjamas that looked almost too similar to something your father might have worn, it made you smile to yourself. You still couldn’t believe you were getting to see him like this. He motions you forward, 

“Let me take care of you, honey,” You frown, a little confused, until he’s turning you around to undo the waistband on your party dress, his fingers light over the zipper down your back. You clutch the dress to your chest as it starts to open down your back, still shy about showing off too much to him. You can’t help but shiver as you feel his hands on your bare skin; perhaps you’ve been touch starved since your break-up, it feels like an age since you’ve even had a fingertip brush across your body. You yelp a little when he tugs the dress down, pulling it off of your arms and away from your torso, pooling at your feet. He chuckles when you wrap an arm around yourself, embarrassed at your boring, old, bra slip and underwear, 

“S’ok baby, here put these on.” He hands you a soft cotton shirt, and you nibble your lip looking at him for a moment, before he playfully huffs and putting a hand over his eyes, “I won’t look, go on.” You hastily pull the slip off, quickly shrugging the shirt on.

“Ok, you can open your eyes again.” He looks over at you, smiling, clearly pleased with however you look. You feel like a child, but you honestly couldn’t care less. Instead you make the subconscious decision to lean into the warmth and coziness he was providing, clambering under the bedsheets he pulled back, fingering the EP adorned on your breast while you waited for him to come back from the bathroom. You’d only known him two hours and now you were feeling owned. It wasn’t, however, an unwelcome feeling, alarmingly domestic perhaps, worryingly forward but not unwelcome. 

When he returns he turns off the lights, climbing in behind you. You know you should be more reserved, more reluctant but you can’t find it in yourself to be instead curling into his body, his arms automatically coming around you. You can't help but hope that this might happen again as outlandish as it might seem. But if nothing else ever comes from it at least you can sleep happy that it had been worth your while leaving the house tonight, if only for the feel of his warm body against yours, and the knowledge of how his hair looks before he goes to bed.

…

[summersmithlatinxgyatt]

GoTron Was Another Summer Best (another Summer yap session)

Let's start with one thing. I felt generous and tried to watch Rickdependence Spray. I turned it off after 10 seconds. In fact, I paused after I saw that horse breeder thing for longer than I watched the intro Tried watching the Thanksgiving episode which was, just fine. Although nothing Summer caught my eye. I did this to finish up Season 5 but it was not worth it

You know WHAT was worth it, though? And what a few of you guys recommended?

'GoTron Jerrysis Rickvangelion'

I now see why this was recommended to me, and by the way it means a lot that most of you guys want me to write about Summer :3

It's almost Summer's episode, focused on her dynamic with Rick too and how it can clash with Morty

(FYI the wiki doesn't have a gallery for this episode I literally will rely on Google for this shit)

Right from the start we see that Summer is basically Rick's right-hand man. I know many people have pointed out (and it's outright said) that Summer is enabling Rick's obsession, which is explained IN the episode and something I'll return to later. Part of this episode is not only her relationship with Rick but with herself. Morty sees this as some sort of sabotage when Rick goes with her opinion and sees Morty as sort of an enemy for not going with what he wanted

She not only LITERALLY becomes a right-hand to the GoTron itself but oversees these Rick meetings instead of just hanging out with the other Summers. I mentioned the fact that Summer holds family in such a high regard. Whether or not they did this because this was also a Goodfellas parody, any good parody utilizes its characters purposefully, so I think it still works. There's also several lines where Summer talks about keeping the family close, and considering the blog I wrote about Rickmancing the Stone that mentions her being the glue that keeps the family together...yeah. When I say she's consistent and has a clear arc, it's because I managed to break her down and see the same attributes pop up here explicitly

Rick congratulates Summer for being the one reason he's even doing this GoTron shit and calls her a queen (queef first tho). Considering Season 7 where he says Summer reminds him of Diane, every time he cherishes Summer it's very genuine and because of how special and important she is to him

I know that the plot was hinging on Morty pointing out Summer being a negative influence but I still understood what she was going for. If my points sound hollow, it's because from now on I don't want to sound like a broken record whenever I mention the words 'Family' and 'Summer'

Like I said I was not a fan of Naruto and the fact that this show says the phrase 'giant incest space baby' more than once, which no show should ever do. But when Summer talks about how lonely she feels, it felt fitting. Sure, it's a...gross incest baby, but Summer felt basic motherly instincts kick on. She also wanted him to escape from there because she knows about the literal feeling of being cooped up. Like...how often does Summer go out?

With whatever friends she has she usually just stays inside. I am writing this AS I'M COOPED UP INSIDE AS PER USUAL I'D KILL SOMEONE TO GO OUT. The point being that avoiding this is something she actively does. That's why she was surprised her mom didn't originally want to use the GoTron Ferrets and why she kept enabling Rick. It's not an agenda, she just wants to bond more and go out more

However, I want to know - does this contradict 'Big Trouble in Little Sanchez'? I bring this up because it's an episode where they're supposed to be bonding and Summer is rational enough to know Rick is being harmed, yet everyone hates her for it. Why didn't Summer stop enabling Rick if it meant he would've been obsessed further? In that episode, it quite literally was killing Rick. Here, different universe versions of the Smith family come together as if to emphasize the point further. The actual issues were ones that Summer weren't aware of, but I just bring this up because no, this doesn't contradict any earlier episodes. Plus, Summer is obviously changing

Also, Summer's speech was fucking amazing. She mentions how lonely she feels in her OWN FAMILY because she has no one and went with Naruto, which is also temporary. She'll take any chance to bond with anyone

To wrap this up - Summer's place in this episode IS the crux of the plot. The family is brought together in more ways than one, with the robots and alternate universes coming together. This also makes sense with Rick having Morty and Beth having Jerry 'naturally', so to speak. If these people have each other, who does Summer have?

Her family

And even if she doesn't have ONE person to always fall back on (as she tends to be around Rick AND Morty), she'll be the one that chooses to keep everyone together. What I said in 'Rickmancing the Stone' and the trilogy I analyzed was true, Summer is the glue that keeps the family together

oh also im gonna be making a blog on the voiceovarians and a theory on Night Summer so keep an eye out for that guys

Thanks for reading!! <3

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Have you never heard of such a thing, darling?

(The Timari Buzzfeed Unsolved AU)

Chapter 2: The Mysterious Case of Haly’s Circus

The video opens, as always, with Tim sitting on the couch, ramrod straight despite the apparent comfortableness of his cushions, smiling in a way that he knows will set people on edge.

People who have been watching Tim’s channel for a while are suddenly struck with the same feeling that new viewers endure when they open one of his videos for the first time. There is something wrong here, though they can’t quite put their finger on what, exactly, is off.

It is never quite scary. It is hard to be scared of a teenage boy. But it is certainly unsettling.

The reason becomes apparent soon enough: the couch is not pressed to the wall as much as it usually was.

Not that this was an easy thing to realize… until someone pops out of the gap for no reason outside of wanting to be dramatic, smiling widely at the audience.

“I’m back by popular demand!” Marinette says. She leans her arms on the back of the couch. “I’m not sure why I agreed. He doesn’t pay me. I’m being exploited.”

“I literally do pay you.”

“Riiiiight, of course you do,” she says, winking. “Don’t worry, GCPD people watching this, I am well taken care of. There is no fraud going on.”

“I don’t think I like this bit,” Tim mumbles.

“Sucks to suck! I do!”

He huffs. “Why did I invite you along again?”

“Because Alya said that I didn’t complete the bet and you’re lonely?”

“You know, at some point, I’m going to sue you for slander.”

“Public figures can’t really sue for slander!”

Tim’s eyebrows raised. “Is that true?”

“Yeah. It’s why tabloids get away with everything. Probably worth a google.”

He groans and rests his head in his hands. This does not entirely hide the faint smile on his face or the way his shoulders shake with barely restrained laughter. But it’s the effort that counts. Probably.

“Okay. Editor!Me, roll intro.”

The terrible dubstep intro is back, to everyone’s utter dismay. ‘The Gotham Files, with Tim Drake’ bounces around the screen once again, but it ends soon enough, thankfully.

Unfortunately, it is quickly replaced by another intro, complete with a different terrible dubstep song and set of strobe lights, proclaiming that ‘Marinette is also here!!!!!!!!!!’

People who listen closely can hear both of them giggling in the background.

Then, there is a hard cut to the two of them standing outside of what looks to be a run-down carnival. The sign above them declares the place to be Haly’s, but it has long since been graffitied over to say ‘Hell’s’ instead.

Marinette does not seem particularly happy about this change, gripping her new ‘company-provided’ flashlight (Tim gave her a spare he found lying around his house so she wouldn’t drain her phone battery) like it was a lifeline.

Tim pays it no mind, other than a murmur of how cliche it is. He smiles at the camera. “Now, since my intro was so rudely interrupted by Marinette –.”

“Popping out from behind the couch was your idea.”

“– I will explain everything now! We are at the site of Haly’s circus. Twelve years ago, tragedy struck during a seemingly routine circus act. A trapeze line snapped, and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths, right in front of their young son.”

There is a moment of silence for the two fallen.

Tim brightens up the moment sixty seconds have finished passing. “And, dear viewers, this particular case is a special one, because I was there when it happened!”

Marinette frowns just slightly.

Tim laughs and waves her off immediately. “I was three, I don’t remember any of it, don’t worry about it.”

She looks somewhat unconvinced, but glances at the camera and decides to drop it. Her concern is wiped from her face like it had never been there at all. She smiles and elbows him in the side. “I guess it’s… a plan to conquer trauma by adding another trauma on top of it. Men would rather visit a haunted theme park than go to therapy.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not adding more trauma on top of it, I’m not going to be traumatized. There’s nothing here that can traumatize me.”

“The ghosts are going to make it their mission to prove you wrong, you know.”

“Yeah yeah, my hubris will be my downfall, of this I am aware,” he intones. And then he goes back to addressing the camera. “Now, to this day, people suspect foul play, but police refuse to investigate. Perfect conditions for a possible ghost, don’t you think? So, as always, we are here to solve the mystery of whether the supernatural exists!”

“It does. Can we go home now?”

“Thank you for your investigative journalism,” he says sarcastically, but he slings his arm over her shoulder regardless, pulling her into his side. “Besides, you don’t have to worry. With all the stuff I’ve said to diss them over the years, ghosts – if they were real, which they aren’t – would go for me first.”

“Then could you please let go? I don’t want to be near you when that happens,” she teases.

He huffs a laugh and lifts his arm, allowing her plenty of time to get away. She remains close to his side.

He snickers and lets his arm fall right back into its seemingly perpetual spot around her shoulders. “It’s just an hour.” On cue, bright red numbers appear in the top right corner of the screen, a timer waiting for them to step over the threshold before it could start. “Then we can both leave, yeah?”

“Just an hour,” she mumbles disdainfully.

“Hey, I usually stay overnight. We can do that instead, if you want.”

The video cuts to show… someone, sitting at a desk, in the dark. Their silhouette is rather chunky, it is clear they are draped in one of the biggest, fluffiest blankets known to man. But they are not the focus. No, instead the camera zooms in, to look at the two different computer screens in front of the person. One of them is clearly editing software, and the other is on YouTube. Viewers can see that he is apparently listening to the ChipiChipiChapaChapa song on loop, and has been for at least three hours. Now, though, he finally opens a second tab. The keyboard clacks as they google ‘what time is the sunrise in Gotham’. The mouse circles the time stamp on the bottom of the screen, and the person mumbles under their breath. Apparently doing math, because they edit the timer to say 8:06:45.

The viewers are back to the actual video, where Marinette is laughing.

Tim does not join her.

Her laughter does not quite peter off, but it does gain a slightly nervous edge.

“That’s… a joke right?” she says. “You don’t actually stay in haunted places for hours every time, do you?”

“Well, no, but the only reason I don’t is that there is no such thing as a ‘haunted place’. I do hang out at attractions like this overnight, though.”

“Actually, an hour seems fine.”

The video pauses. Editor!Tim heaves a deep sigh and the clock changes back to its original one-hour-long countdown.

“Also, you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Marinette huffs when time returns to normal. They finally step into the carnival together, and the timer starts ticking down. “At least try and pretend like you think ghosts could exist, to make things fair.”

“You think that this place has a house of mirrors somewhere?” he asks. “Because I would like to introduce you to the most stubborn person to exist.”

She huffs. She might have rolled her eyes, but she was too concerned with drinking in every detail of the world around them, searching for anything amiss.

There was a lot amiss about the place, to be fair to her. Old popcorn bags lay forgotten on the ground, abandoned in a rush and trampled under hundreds of feet, their previously bright colors muddied by the elements over the years. What had once been gleaming, colorful rides were now rusting. A family of opossums peers at them suspiciously from behind a couple of molding stuffed animals, their eyes gleaming hauntingly when their flashlights turn on them.

But nothing supernatural.

The longer they go without finding anything of note, the more Marinette relaxes.

She tugs at Tim’s backpack, and he gives her a mildly questioning look, but lets her open it and pull out a spray can of bright red paint.

“How –? When –?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” she says, smirking, tossing the can from hand to hand.

“Isn’t that saying supposed to be about – uh – demonitizable things?”

“Probably,” she shrugs. “Not my problem, though.”

“Uh. I think it is, actually,” he laughs. “You’re going to give the viewers the wrong idea about you.”

“Oh no. The supernatural-obsessed, parasocial people in your comment section are going to witch hunt me. Oh nooooooo.”

“You know, they’d probably be happy if they managed to kill you. More things for me to investigate – and with a personal element.”

“They’re just mad because they get no –.”

No one can guess what word is bleeped out here.

He groans, but he is still grinning widely. “Don’t insult my audience and their lack of... dates! You know how important my viewer retention rates are to me!”

She sticks her tongue out at him, slipping out from under his arm and walking over to the nearest contraption. It’s a gravitron, from the looks of things – one of those rides where they spin you around so quickly that you can stick to the walls.

Marinette tugs her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose (Tim quickly shifts the camera upwards at the sight of the barest sliver or midriff with mumbles of ‘demonetization’) and spray paints the words ‘Marinette and Tim were here’.

She looks at it for a moment, seemingly thinking hard, before adding a tiny heart next to their names.

Tim groans. “You’re going to make the shippers freak out.”

Her shirt falls away from her face when she tips her head back in a laugh, and she tosses the can into a nearby trash can. It thumps against something inside, but no pissed-off animals come seeking revenge, so they pay this no mind.

“You can always cut it out in editing.”

“Mmmm trueeeeee,” he says, humming thoughtfully. “But I’d prefer not to. Engagement, you know?”

She gives a little hum of her own before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

His face flushes pink. “What was that for?”

“Engagement.”

He gasps and presses the back of his hand to his forehead, like a Victorian woman who is about to faint over a couch because she happened to catch sight of a collarbone. “Oh of course it’s for the views and not for me,” he pretends to pout.

She grins widely, opening her mouth to respond, but it seems that they are not allowed to enjoy themselves and have fun.

For, in that second, the carnival whirrs to life.

Lights, muted and strangely speckled due to the accumulation of years of grime, shine down on them. The speakers crackle to life, playing songs they hadn’t heard in years. The rides creak as their rusty gears are forced into motion once again.

If you, dear viewer, pay close enough attention, you can see the exact moment the light in their eyes dies.

It coincides pretty well with the lights in the park flicking on.

Hence why paying close attention is vitally important.

Needless to say, the kids are stressed. Probably because the abandoned amusement park does not seem all that abandoned anymore.

“Any chance we tripped a motion sensor somewhere?” Marinette asks.

Tim looks like he has accidentally swallowed a lemon. “Uh… I don’t think that they would still be working after this long…”

“Great! Great. That’s what I thought, too,” Marinette says, her voice squeaking in a way that suggests she does not, in fact, think it is great.

“But – but! There is always an explanation for supernatural phenomena,” Tim says, though he is eyeing the contraption warily. It is hard to tell who he is comforting – Marinette, or himself. Hopefully himself, seeing as he was utterly failing to calm down Marinette. “Noxious fumes causing hallucinations, confirmation bias, a trick done by living people for the sake of monetary gain (a la Scoobert Doo), the wind...”

“You know, at some point this loops around to being in denial,” Marinette mumbles, pressing so close to his side that it starts to look like she is trying to meld with him.

“Shut up,” is all he can manage in retort.

There is a loud bang nearby and the pair of teens scream. Their heads spin on a swivel, and the video is briefly impossible to watch without getting sick. By the time things stabilize, the teens have come up with a solution. Marinette points at the big top, the largest and most instantly recognizable building. It’s the only place that would provide proper cover.

Not that that would do that much good against a ghost, but you have to at least try to survive in situations like these.

“There! C’mon!”

Tim makes a vague sound of protest, but Marinette is already running, and he is dragged along for the ride.

Perhaps that is not the best phrasing, since a kiddie ride they pass screeches off the rails, and they only barely stop in time to avoid getting run over by a roller coaster car.

The ghost is hot on their heels.

Marinette and Tim hop the car, adrenaline fueling them, their feet thudding against the dirt.

Neon lights spark and shatter overhead, raining sparks and gas down upon them.

Marinette’s shirtsleeve catches, and Tim is quick to put it out for her, because she doesn’t even seem to notice, too focused on helping him into the circus tent.

It is as if they have walked into another world. A kinder one, without weird ghosts that are trying to kill them for intruding upon the place they had once died. It is blissfully dark, the only sound their own ragged breathing. After all the bright lights and loud sounds and near murder attempts, it is nice.

Electricity whirrs.

A spotlight blares down on them, briefly, a clear I know you’re here, before it slides away, down to its natural resting position in the middle of the tent.

Now, you may know I am here, too.

A man in a torn circus uniform sits in the spotlight, sobbing into his hands. A tarp lay stretched beneath the long-since broken trapeze, almost mockingly, as if the ghost is making a joke about how easily avoidable their deaths had been, if only they had used a net that night. The dust they had kicked up upon entering catches in the spotlight, making it look as if the air itself is reacting to the ghost, dancing with shimmering lights.

Marinette is physically shaking by this point, her nails digging into Tim’s arm hard enough to draw blood. Tim doesn’t look much better, either, his face an ashy gray color.

Red pools in the sand the ghost kneels in.

“... wait,” Tim breathes.

He moves as if to take a step forward, but Marinette is still holding onto him, and she clearly has no intentions of getting any closer to the ghost.

Tim meets her eyes.

“Trust me.”

She bites her lip, but when he moves again she allows herself to be pulled with him.

They make their way down the steps.

He moves to make his way over the railing and jump down into the sand pit, but the lights flicker and go out.

The hand Marinette has on him is the only thing that stops him from braining himself on the ground. He wouldn’t have died, probably, but it still would have been quite an embarrassing moment to have caught on camera.

When the lights turn back on, Tim sends her a grateful smile.

Marinette doesn’t return it. Her eyes are locked on where the ghost is.

Or, was.

She doesn’t seem much more relieved by the lack of it.

Tim jumps down and helps her come down after him. Slowly, they make their way over to where the ghost had been.

He crouches to squint at the pool of blood. Marinette gags and drags her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose again. Tim looks like he very much wants to do the same, but he has other things he needs to do, first. He rifles through his backpack, his eyes never leaving the ground.

“Tim…” she says, quietly. “We should go.”

He sends her a hesitant smile. “I want a sample of this.”

He pulls out a flashlight and points it out into the darkness provided by the tarp.

There stands the ghost.

Well, it isn’t a ghost. A ghost wouldn’t cringe away from a sudden bright light being shone into their eyes. Nor would it be wearing stage makeup.

The grimy-looking clothes check out, though. A+ for effort on that, that trapeze outfit definitely looks like someone died in it.

The man glances behind himself briefly, as if considering running, before his shoulders slump in clear defeat.

He groans. “What gave it away?”

Tim points at the blood on the ground. “It should be dry by now.”

“It’s –? I’m supposed to be a ghost? The blood being wet is not the most unbelievable part?”

There was a long beat of silence.

“Oh,” says Tim.

The man – Dick Grayson, the sole surviving member of the Flying Graysons – looks like he wants to scream. Which he does, but not in the traditional way: “Jay! Cass! Come out!”

Two people step out into the light, looking just as irritable about the whole situation.

They, too, are wearing ratty clothes.

Oh. Praise revoked. The clothes are not a Choice. They are simply poor.

Marinette groans and slumps into Tim, burying her face in his shoulder as if she can’t bear to see the world anymore. He loops his arm around her, dragging her ever closer.

“Ready to stop believing that ghosts are real, yet?” Tim teases softly.

She groans. Again. Louder. She beats her fist against his chest, but there is no real power or anger behind it.

And then she fixes the three homeless people with a tired look. “I understand why you’re doing this and all… like, the economy sucks, get that bag – or free housing, I guess… but…”

There is a long string of beeps as Marinette lets loose a frankly impressive number of swears. It’s doubly impressive when one remembers that she isn’t even speaking in her first language. Go her. Clearly, she took her English lessons very seriously.

When she finally feels better, she flashes a smile and sticks her hand out for the second guy to shake.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

The guy looks confused, but he shakes it.

The video cuts abruptly. The three homeless people are waving them off as Tim and Marinette head back to his car. The viewers would never get to know exactly what was said that day, but it seems they're leaving each other on well-enough terms.

“Sucks that we went through all of that just to not be able to post any of it,” she sighs. “The GCPD would probably arrest them or something.”

“Nah, it’s fine. We can just cut around it and say it was a front for the mafia. The police hate the poor, but they won't mess with organized crime. Because a lot of them are in it.”

“Oh! Great!” she says. Her tone seems to be almost sarcastic. Almost, because why would it be? It is a great plan.

“I’ll keep the real footage on my Patreon, though. My journalistic credibility shall not be marred.” He winks at the camera. “Say hi to the Patreon viewers.”

While she does lift her hand in a vague wave, she does not seem particularly soothed by his words. Perhaps because his ‘journalistic integrity’ was not at all what she had been concerned about.

“Alright, now, we need to convince the nonpaying viewers that we are scared out of our minds because of mafia b.s., so put on your best concerned face.”

Marinette looks at him.

“Perfect! And we’re rolling again!” He turns to address the camera, all wide eyes and frantic hand movements. “Okay, so, it turns out this place is a mafia hideout. Who knew?”

Marinette’s lips begin to twitch into a slight smile at his antics. “Well, I’m going back to France in a few days, so this is not my problem.”

He gasps. “You’re going to leave me here to die?! After all we’ve been through?!”

“Yep.”

Tim looks devastated.

She giggles. “Fine, fine, I’ll stuff you in my backpack and you can come with me.”

He lights back up again instantly. “Ohmygod! We can have The Gotham Files: World Tour!”

“Mmmm, I only live in France,” Marinette points out, which certainly makes the ‘World Tour’ seem less than stellar all of a sudden.

Tim takes it in stride, though. “The Gotham Files: France Tour!”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is nothing but fond. “Nice save.”

“I know. I’m kind of awesome.”

“And always right!” she adds, in the kind of tone that suggests they’ve joked like this before many times offscreen.

“And always right,” he agrees, nodding along, sage in his always right-ness.

“Except…” Marinette says, smirking. “You were almost convinced about the ghosts for a second there. I think that means that, somewhere, you know the supernatural exists.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. He shrugs lazily. “I just think that, if ghosts were real and could affect our reality in any meaningful way, white people just wouldn’t exist anymore.”

It is quiet for a solid nine seconds.

Marinette has stopped walking. Tim slows, turns to look at her, mildly concerned.

“Mari –?”

“Fuck, maybe ghosts don’t exist.”

The video ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3