#is it so much of a stretch if canon agrees none of these people are friends anymore

[rxttenfish]

starts hyperventilating as i repeat over and over that i have to make miranda and aaravi my ocs already i have to i have to i have to

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: seungkwan + blossoms

alternative title: this is what healing is

pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader

genre: canon universe, established relationship, comfort-ish

word count: 1285

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @weird-bookworm @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994 (and @wheeboo cz. it's seungkwan)

"Y/N! Come on, we can't slow down now, we're almost there!"

"And where," you pant, "is 'almost there', Seungkwan? Almost there to my death?"

Seungkwan smiles, and it's not his brilliant, heart-bursting smile but it's close enough. "You shouldn't have offered to take me out hiking, love," he says teasingly, from where he's standing on the path further up. "You gotta deal with the consequences."

You groan, pulling yourself up with your hiking poles along the dirt path. "Yeah, next time I'll just offer to pay for a full spa day for you. That'll be way easier than this torture I accidentally signed up for."

Seungkwan chuckles, continuing to hike up the mountainside while you groan and complain and sweat to death behind him. 

Your boyfriend loves nature. He loves being surrounded by it, feeling humbled by the vast everlastingness of the earth, feeling part of the unending beauty of the world and the countless lives of animals and plants that he has the privilege of living alongside. It relaxes him, brings him peace, allows his soul to settle more comfortably in his body once he's able to see that he's important, that he matters, that nature is there for him and surrounds him and he is at once a part of it and forever under its power the entire time. 

It's a complex combination of feeling humility at nature's capability and feeling comfort at being in her care, but you get it. You understand Seungkwan. 

That's why you offered him a healing day out trekking up some of South Korea's most idyllic mountains, after all. 

You're kind of regretting agreeing to come along, though. 

Well, almost. 

"Y/N, I swear, we're almost there this time," Seungkwan insists when you wail about your legs again. He's standing at a curve in the path you're following, which isn't really much of a path but more of a wobbly line of soil where the ground has been worn down just a little more than the rest of the undergrowth surrounding you. 

"What, almost to the top?" you manage to say. Wow, you need to exercise more. 

Seungkwan shakes his head. "No, we're almost at a rest point though! There's a fallen tree we can sit on."

"A fallen tree," you deadpan, crunching through leaves. "We're almost at a fallen tree."

Seungkwan wrinkles his nose playfully at your tone. "Yes. A fallen tree. But I'm really, really certain that we've almost reached the summit, if you wanna forgo a break and carry on…?"

"No, no, let's take a break," you say hurriedly, hobbling up the remaining stretch to find the fallen tree he was talking about and flopping down. "Ah, that's better."

There's a peaceful silence then, as you drink your water and Seungkwan tilts his head back, revelling in the quiet that comes with being so, so far away from other people. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and fight the urge to grin widely. 

This is the one, sole reason that you don't regret coming on this trip. 

He has his eyes closed, the sunlight peeking through the green leaves of the trees and casting an uneven glow across his face, one cheek, half of his forehead, the tip of his nose and small spatterings of his eyelids lit up in gold. He looks like he's been blessed all over by some sun deity, but nothing can top the utterly content look on his face. 

Seungkwan hasn't been feeling himself lately, and you get it, with all that's been going on for him. He's been doing so well, and you tell him so, but sometimes those words aren't enough. Sometimes he just needs time to distance himself, to heal without having the reminders of his pain and struggles hitting him in the face. 

Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirps, and Seungkwan opens his eyes. 

"Don't you think that the day sky is so beautiful?" he says, contemplatively, squinting through the forest canopy. 

You look up with him, squinting your eyes. "The day sky?" you echo. 

He shrugs. "Yeah. Everyone always talks about the night sky, and yet no one seems to mention how pretty the sky is during the day."

You tilt your head, watching as faint wisps of white clouds drift by, in between the green leaves and up there in the brilliant blueness of the sky. 

"The moon is really, really beautiful," you say, "but I guess we never do think about how pretty the sun is too."

"The moon will forever be beautiful," Seungkwan agrees, voice softening, "but there's beauty in the day as well. There's so much light. So much vibrancy. So much potential for living."

You smile, lowering your head to look over at Seungkwan. He still has his head tilted upwards, so far up that you can't see his eyes. But after a moment, he squeezes his eyes shut and looks at you with a smile. It's a sad smile, but there's relief there, a happiness that comes from having the time to be with such refreshing scenery and his thoughts and with you. 

His eyes crinkle as he leans forward to press a kiss to your nose. "You know I love you, right?"

You hum, placing your hand on his cheek to keep him in place and quickly kiss his forehead. His skin is clammy with sweat, your hand warm on his equally warm cheek, but the softness in his eyes makes everything else rendered irrelevant. 

"I should hope so," you say drily after pulling away. "I'm here, suffering with you right now. I'm currently loving you too damn much for you not to love me back."

Seungkwan laughs at that, a ringing bell sound that sounds so much like his usual self that it makes you laugh too. 

"Well, thank you for loving me that much," he says, and it's teasing, but there are rosy warm threads of sincerity to his words. "Thank you, oh noble Y/N, for putting up with me."

"Any time," you say, and you can recognise that warm sincerity in your own voice too. "I'll do anything for you."

Seungkwan smiles. 

A wind blows around you, blessedly cool, and you sigh in happiness. Sometimes small and cold sticks to your forehead, and you dislodge it to gawk at the small blossom petal that managed to stick to your sweaty skin. 

"Kwan, look at this petal that stuck to me," you say, turning to your boyfriend, only to laugh at the way he has two on his cheek, seemingly going unnoticed by him.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"You had a little something on your face, babe," you say, taking off the petals and showing them to him. Seungkwan blinks down at them before chuckling and shaking his head. 

"There must be cherry blossom trees further up ahead," he said, watching as more pale pink petals float around you.

You hum thoughtfully, staring at the little blossom petals. "Blossoms represent growth, you know," you say. "And new beginnings. They symbolise a better tomorrow."

Seungkwan tilts his head. "Really?" He's silent for a moment, before standing up. "Well, we better get going, I think. I want to see this blossom tree at the summit, now that we know it's there."

Instantly, you're groaning, and Seungkwan laughs as he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, teasing you the entire way. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and the two of you walk leisurely up the mountain, skin all sun-dappled and with blossoms in your hair as you make your way to the top and to that blossom tree. 

All the way to a better tomorrow. 

[jaegonsmoon]

As a lucemond shipper, it is sad that's all we'll ever get from canon, but also, now we're free to explore more. I say free as in, I read the wiki pages and oof, othee ships are gonna burn in one way or another.

So I do hope we continue to get more works for lucemond.

don’t worry!! this is a creative little fandom indeed. but I think we’ve always had that freedom, I think that every ship does tbh, it's what a lot of people have yet to understand and that’s why they’re always in everyone else’s business (hotdtwt i’m looking at you directly).

like—I have brainrotted and found content and created content for ships and characters that have been in the same room once or none at all, and never have shared a second of screentime, and managed to enjoy it to the FULLESSST, some of the best content is found by focusing on the creativity of taking these two dolls and playing pretend with them with no guidance just vibes. so what what I mean by this is that ships usually die when people rely only on canon content to keep going, insted of just being infinitely delusional and using what barney gave us all along (imagination). so if we keep the magic going (being extra delusional) we'll just keep thriving!!! trust 🫶

also we are lucky to have the source material we have tbf, it is quite a feast. however yes, I agree that I would’ve wanted to have/see more bc there was soo much potential for it! like I think they could’ve stretched the dynamic a bit longer. and yeah I get what you mean, everything IS gonna burn and crash from s2 on, it's gonna be hard to watch, but I'm sat and quite excited! I’m also looking forward to see what lcmders come up with during this new phase, the lcmnd tag on ao3 it’s almost at 4k!! so YAAAAY to that. I wish on everybody that the brain juices never dry out ever 🙏🙏

[rapturesbest]

Silly haha Hector and Cohen thing. The usual.

Canon typical language and threats of violence yadda yadda

“He is a child, Sander. He is a boy.”

“Have you suddenly grown a spine, Hector? I cannot recall you ever caring for any of the ones before him.”

Hector glared at Cohen through the reflection of the mirror, “None of the ones before him had the potential of passing your fucking tests.”

“Ah! So you do believe in the boy.” Cohen waved a hand, “You are over thinking this. He will have you and Silas and Martin to guide him after I am through shaping him. I can take his potential and turn it into something worth while.”

“You’ll fucking kill him!”

Hector turned towar him, a heavy silence fell over the room that suddenly seemed too small, Hector knew he would pay dearly but he continued, “It’s fucking sick is what it is. You’ll squeeze the life out of anything around you to earn the approval of a man who hasn’t looked at you in years.”

Hector realized his words after they left his lips, signing his own death warrant in blood.

“I would… watch my tone if I were you, Rodriguez.” Cohen’s voice was calm and flat, lacking any of the usual vibrato, “I do not enjoy your judegment. It is unbecoming of one of my own.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes flicking across his second Disciple, “The young Fitzpatrick does display extraordinary talent for a boy of his age.” He mused, running his pointer finger across a red stained lip as he turned away from Hector, “I can see potential trapped within that twitching rabbit of a boy, yearning to break free like the marble carved by artists.” He clasped his hands together, his smile growing tight around the edges as Hector grabbed his arm, forcing his attention back, “Sander I am asking you. As one of your own, to reconsider. You know damn well I don’t ask you for much, don’t make him do this.”

“My dear Hector I am not making him do anything. He agreed to his trial just as all those before him.”

“He doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what will happen if he fails. If you appreciate his talent then observe it from a distance.” Hector knew he, Silas and Martin alike had been pinned like butterflies to be critiqued and observed under Cohen’s harsh lens.

“I think we are done here. Leave me.” Cohen made a dismissive gesture, “I must finish my masterpiece.”

Hector seethed, pacing back and forth at being dismissed, “Fucking hell, Cohen. If you won’t fucking listen to reason I’ll talk to him myself. Fuck this.” he turned on his heel, only to hear the all too familiar sound of a plasmid being used, as soon as he finished his turn he found his employer standing in front of him, a too wide smile stretching across his face as he leaned closer, “If you fuck with my newest muse, I will peel your skin off, cover you in plastar and have you be the centerpiece in the Atrium as a warning to not fuck with me amd I making myself perfectly clear to you, Hector?”

Hector swallowed, nails biting into the meat of his hand as he grit his teeth, “Clear.”

“Splendid.”

Hector left the dressing room, anger bubbling beneath the surface of his skin as he descended the stairs, ignoring Cohen’s words behind him, “Do share my warning to the others! I would hate to see either of them injured on your behalf.”

“Eat shit.” Hector muttered as he entered the upper level of the Atrium, stalking to the stairs before he looked out across the people milling about. He needed a drink.

He hated this fucking city.

[indigosabyss]

Canon Event Maintenance: A Gwenpool in BTSV fic

Gwen Stacy stared at the small group they had managed to amass. Compared to the hundreds of Spider-People Miguel had on his side, they weren't much, but they had potential.

"Okay, first thing we need is resources and allies." She announced, "We don't want to bring in anyone who doesn't know about the multiverse, or get them involved if you don't think they should, but if there's anyone you know who might lend us a hand, please get us in contact with them."

There was silence as all the Spiders thought this over. Because of course none of them had a solid support network. They were Spiders. Maybe Miguel was right about all that canon event stuff, even if the murder was unjustified.

It was Peter B who raised his hand, looking incredibly reluctant.

"I think I know a gal." He admitted, face twisted into a grimace, "And she would be really eager to join in on this."

"...Okay, so why's your face doing that thing?" Pavitr asked.

"Yeah! What's the catch, buster?" Spider-Ham cocked his head.

"There's nothing wrong with her! She's a wonderful kid. Just... well, you'll understand when you meet her."

In dimension 616-B, the Spider-Band stood at the top of a skyscraper, looking at the cars milling down below. Not a single building was close enough to parkour jump from, so how this mystery person was supposed to get there... Peni didn't know.

And another thing. Peter was being very evasive about the details. They didn't even know her name! But he promised that she was trustworthy, and the entire band had to take him at his word.

"Where even is she, mate?" Hobie asked, looking around impatiently, "We're nearing the agreed time, and there's no sign of her."

"Give it a sec." Peter shook his head, rocking Mayday a little in her sleep. Then, he took a slow, deliberate step to the right, just as a white hole ripped into the air above him and a figure dropped down. She was a white girl, wearing a pink civilian hoodie with a baseball hat under the hood. Her eyes were obscured by purple sunglasses that didn't seem to match her style, and had one hand shoved into the pocket of her shorts. The other one was lazily holding a unsheathed katana, with a pink handle.

Before anyone could comment, she was already talking, "Hey, Peter, what's the sitch that got you to finally call me up for a teamup? I---" She froze, finally noticing the other extradimensional spider-people all standing there. Peni had the dreadful realization that Peter had not told her anything about the spider-verse when calling her.

And then an excited grin stretched over her face.

"Oh. My. Marvel. Gods." She pulled off the sunglasses to reveal blue eyes, throwing them to the side, where they got swallowed up by another white rip in reality as if it was a normal occurrence, "This is a Spider-Verse event."

What? How'd she known that? Everyone exchanged discomfited glances, except Peter, who nodded gratefully, "Oh, good, so you're already filled in and everything. I was hoping you would be."

"Uh? Duh." The strange girl rolled her eyes, hopping excitedly in place, "Wow. Wow. I'm important enough to be in a Spider-Verse event. Except... damn, this is just a fic, so does it really count?"

Pavitr was making chopping motions, trying to get them to quit the meeting. Peni had similar doubts. Who was this girl? And how much could she really help?

"I'm getting ahead of myself!" She laughed, "Let's start from the beginning. One last time." Another giggle as she took a quick step back and... vanished? For barely a millisecond, and it was only SP//DR's keen sight which told her that, because then she was back, dressed in a pink and white battle-grade leotard, with leather pouches and guns strapped all over her. There was a mask, but it was clutched in her hand, allowing them to see shoulder-length blond hair tipped with pink that, combined with her skin tone and blue eyes and overall color pallette made her look a lot like... Gwen.

Everyone's eyes drifted to the woman in question, and Peni knew they were all thinking the same thing. Peter's contact took a sweeping bow, "Hello, then! My name's Gwen Poole! I can manipulate reality as well as the Scarlet Witch can!"

Huh. Well, okay then.

----

Author's Notes:

Might do a part two if you guys enjoy. Seen a lot of people thinking about a Gwenpool in the Spider-Verse movies cameo, but not enough fics to solve that problem. By which I mean any. I haven't seen any fics. Pls tag me if theres a tumblr fic like this. Characterization is a little off bc Gwen P. is too excited to think straight. Her media awareness and the mechanics of it will be built up further, but lets just say she knows she's in a fic, but not in which fandom its for, so reacting to it like a comic teamup.

Also. Those were indeed Kate's sunglasses she was wearing.

[everystephoftheway]

Hi!! May I ask for 'Pulling you aside from an incoming force preventing you from colliding with said force.' with Vaxleth please? (Keyleth is canonically clumsy and Vax 1000% has to steer her out of danger all the time XD)

sorry it took me ten years to respond to this! and bc it's been ten years i don't remember which list this prompt came from lol I set this in the Camp Cloudtop universe ^_^

Vax wasn’t much of a fan of the green market that sprouted in the center of town every Yulisen, but Keyleth loved it and, well, he loved Keyleth. It wasn’t that he hated vegetables or local artisans; there were just…so. many. people. He was used to staying to the sides, keeping an eye on everyone where no eyes could find him. Emon was safe enough, but the crowds at the green market were large and condensed, perfect ground for a smooth pickpocket (he would certainly know). 

Yet, his girlfriend–his outdoor-loving, friendly, curious girlfriend–wanted to be down the center street every time. “There are new vendors every week!” She threw her arms up to emphasize her point as they walked toward the closed streets in the center of town. “I’d hate to miss out on one because we’re walking behind everything.”

Vax couldn’t quite argue back; his reasons of paranoia and safety would simply get an eye roll and a gentle squeeze of his hand, a promise that she wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him. He lingered behind Keyleth as they made their way into the crowded beginnings of the market. The long street was lined with stalls selling everything from farm goods to armor to weapons to crafts. The food stalls always had the longest lines; today a vendor selling hard candy had the customers’ attention, and Vax flicked his chin toward the curving line.

“Let’s come back to this one. The line will be shorter later.” 

Keyleth nodded in agreement and continued walking, but her eyes stayed fixed on the stall where an older gnome was stretching long ropes of melted sugar, shaping and creating the candies right in front of everyone. 

“Keyleth!” Vax’s eyes, never fixed on anything but her, reached out and pulled her back by the straps of her long dress so she bumped into his chest just in time to avoid a collision with a gaggle of kids running right at them. 

His hands didn’t leave her waist where they had secured her even as the kids ran past, none the wiser to the crash they almost caused. 

“Slow down!” Vax called after them–the camp counselor instinct ripe and quick–but his attention was brought back to Keyleth as she pulled his hands away. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she breathed, cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I didn’t see them coming at all. Sorry. I should pay better attention.” 

Vax shook his head. “They are the ones running through a crowd like a bunch of morons. And I’m happy to be your eyes in the back of your head.”

With a smile, Keyleth leaned down and gave Vax a sweet kiss. “Thank you. We definitely need to come back to this stall, though. The candy looks amazing.”

“Mm.” Vax finally looked over at the candy being made and he gave an agreeing nod. “It does look pretty good.” 

He only looked for a moment before his eyes fell back onto Keyleth, their hands intertwined as she began to lead them forward through the crowd. She managed to keep her eyes on the heads in front of her for about thirty seconds before her focus was drawn to a stall with beautiful silk work. Vax simply chuckled to himself and started to watch for any other impending collisions. 

[mlwritersguild]

Start a story with “I need a place to stay.”

maybe shake a tambourine, by noirshitsuji

AO3 link; POV Félix Graham de Vanily/Félix Fathom, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Adrien Agreste Runs Away, Félix 'Fundamentally Frustrated' Fathom, Family Feels, Referenced Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug As Ladybug

Summary:

Felix looks at his cousin, sometimes. Looks and wonders. The silver ring he’d taken to wearing a couple of years ago is gone.

But the Adrien he’s known since childhood isn’t there either, and, much as Felix would like to attribute the tapping he’s noticed his fingers do every time Adrien doesn’t answer one of his questions to annoyance, he knows it’s truly because he feels unnerved by it all.

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

“I need a place to stay.”

Adrien says this in English, not French. Felix, in opposition to any kind of fraternal instinct he may be hypothesised as (or blamed for not) possessing, grips the doorframe a bit tighter to himself.

“You should’ve sent a message.”

“You know he listens in on my phone,” his cousin replies, not missing a beat, and his eyes haven’t left Felix’s yet. Adrien doesn’t like holding eye contact for that long. Not when he’s asking for help.

Felix opens the door wide.

---

There are calls in the next few days. His mother deflects all questions, letting the appropriate amount of distress seep into her voice, the appropriate amount of futile consolations and dignified groveling (which is how he knows his uncle is on the line and not Nathalie Sancoeur). There is one visit from Ladybug, and none from Chat Noir. When Felix asks Ladybug how her partner is, she says ‘fine’ in that distinct tone of voice people have when the truth is ‘I don’t know’.

Felix looks at his cousin, sometimes. Looks and wonders. The silver ring he’d taken to wearing a couple of years ago is gone.

But the Adrien he’s known since childhood isn’t there either, and, much as Felix would like to attribute the tapping he’s noticed his fingers do every time Adrien doesn’t answer one of his questions to annoyance, he knows it’s truly because he feels unnerved by it all. 

This, in turn, makes him actually annoyed, nearly as much as Adrien and his mother’s whispering behind closed doors. Felix suspects it has to do with something else he suspects about his uncle. He cannot seem to make the final connection, though, another annoyance in an ever-growing arsenal.

There is one call that isn’t like the rest, mostly because it rings on Felix’s phone and not his mother’s or the house phone (Adrien had discarded his and had started operating with a new one; Felix and his mother had powered up some back-ups of their own to contact him), and because it is not somebody that Felix even thought could have his number.

“I believe we have a mutual friend at your school,” Kagami Tsurugi says, and Felix believes her for a fraction of a second before she adds, “and I was hoping you could give him a message from me?”

Felix agrees, and Kagami dictates to him how to transliterate the Japanese phrase she gives him. “He’s not fluent,” she says, “but I did teach him enough for him to understand it,” and, with little further pleasantries, hangs up.

When Felix gives Adrien the note, he watches his cousin grip the piece of paper at one corner in the same way he’d handled sparklers as a kid at New Year’s: as if the flitting bits of flame would burn off his face. His expression turns blank as his eyes scan and rescan the short sentence, evidently putting together its meaning, and by the end of it it’s completely closed off in a way Felix doesn’t remember ever seeing.

“Couldn’t have been that unfriendly, now, could it,” he says, then realises he’s tapping his fingers against his thigh again. Blast it all.

Adrien shakes his head so slowly it almost looks like a cat stretching its neck. “No, not unfriendly. Kagami’s just very blunt sometimes. Like you.”

“By which you mean correct?”

A smile - small and see-through like origami paper. “Yes. Correct.”

He doesn’t elaborate any more than that. Felix keeps tapping his fingers, and keeps his cursing to himself.

---

The first thing Adrien does is find a job.

Luckily for him, being a star young model in France had involved a sufficient amount of photo alteration that, supplanted by a hair-colour change, had meant his being virtually unrecognisable once his hair had turned chestnut brown under their sink. Felix still thinks it’s a stupid risk to take vis-a-vis his cousin’s aim to avoid discovery, but he’s not going to tell him that. He’s only going to indirectly but pointedly insult his intelligence for it.

Adrien, continuing to be completely not-himself, rolls his eyes and doesn’t argue, just trudges himself up on Tuesday and Thursday mornings for opening shifts at the Costa he works in in Elephant and Castle and comes back in the evenings on Mondays and Fridays after he closes, and Felix does point out how he doesn’t technically need to earn money, to which the answer is:

“If he finds out where I am and that he has to settle a debt with my aunt, I will genuinely be in big trouble.”

You already are, Felix thinks, what does it matter, but then he realises that what Adrien is actually saying is that this is temporary and I’m sorry and I need a little bit of courage, just a tiny bit of rest and that he’s right, and Felix’s uncle’s idea of honour would absolutely include a clause against relying on family when needing any of these things. So, he lets it go and keeps leaving Adrien’s meals out covered for when he comes back late and doesn’t dine with them (insisting they don’t wait for him) and lets him believe it’s Felix’s mother that’s doing it.

---

One day, Adrien doesn’t come back home alone. 

There’s a small black blob on his shoulder that has yellow eyes and a surprisingly ferocious bite when Felix’s mother reaches for it. 

“His name is Crép,” Adrien says, “short for crépuscule, not as in crêpe.”

Felix can’t help but snort at that, but stops in his tracks when he sees his cousin smile - really smile, and suddenly he realises it’s the first time it hasn’t been forced in the weeks he’s been with them.

“It’s the mark of an adult to name a pet the way a child would and call it clever,” Felix says, and this time, Adrien laughs.

---

Felix’s mother doesn’t try to convince Adrien to go back. Felix finds himself believing her when she tells him she has little more idea about Adrien’s reasons than Felix himself does (though that may well be false either because she is, in fact, finagling slightly, or because she doesn’t realise the extent of Felix’s own suspicions), but as August slowly comes to a close and the rentrée season begins, Felix begins to count the days down until she finally breaks and asks Adrien to talk. She must; there is no other way.

He isn’t disappointed.

“Adrien, darling,” she starts one afternoon over tea, thumb tracing the rim of her cup. Adrien puts his down immediately. “I realise there may be things you are yet unwilling to share, but it is my duty to ask you: what are your long-term plans? The school year is nearly here, and despite your humility I know that your dream isn’t to be a barista.”

Adrien smiles from where he’s sitting on the couch, then leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. Felix starts tapping his fingers again.

His cousin turns his face towards the sun shining down on him from the window. 

“Why, there are worse things than being a barista, Aunt Amelie. Don’t worry, though, I’ll be going back to Paris this weekend. I only stayed so long because I know London doesn’t usually enjoy this much sun during summer, but it all ends on Saturday, I think.”

“Climate change gets to us all in the end,” Felix says on reflex, succeeding in making his cousin chortle. 

It’s a favour: Adrien gets to pretend his voice hadn’t broken at the end of his last sentence, and Felix gets to pretend that he can’t see a tear track on the side of his cousin’s face that’s turned away from Amelie.

---

The day Adrien has to catch the Eurostar back, the weather forecast’s prediction turns out wrong. They ride the DLR and then the Northern Line into St Pancras, but that doesn’t save them from getting wet between their home and Cutty Sark. 

Felix’s mother looks towards the outpour outside as they emerge from the escalators inside the station. “I hope the weather in Paris is better. Have you called ahead? Is anyone picking you up?”

“I figured it’d be better if I had a conversation with my father in private first,” Adrien says as he takes advantage of the lack of pressed up bodies around them to shake off water from his umbrella. “Not that he’d come personally either way, but I would rather not face Nathalie and the Gorilla first. He doesn’t know I was with you, either.”

“Oh, let him know. I can handle him,” Amelie says, shaking her head.

Felix side-eyes her, but says nothing. She is not looking at him, and it feels like it’s on purpose.

Uncle Gabriel might figure it out regardless, Felix thinks as Adrien explains how he’ll throw away his ticket after he arrives at Gare du Nord, but takes solace in the knowledge that Adrien’s father may not be moved to act without conclusive evidence. Yet.

Felix’s mother shakes her head again, and he reaches out to tap down a few stray strands of hair. She shoots him a smile before looking back at Adrien and saying, “I hope you have a safe journey. Let me know you’ve returned safely.”

Adrien nods. “You will likely be informed anyway, but I will do my best to talk to you myself.”

He pauses, then adds, “Of course, you could use this as an excuse to visit. Nephew and cousin miraculously returned and all of that.”

“We will,” Amelie says at the same time as Felix does, “The school year is starting and my schedule is very busy.”

Adrien snorts and jostles his arm in a manner that is so bizarrely reminiscent of childhood that Felix does, in fact, take a step back. 

“Come have a weekend-long study session with me, then,” he replies, and after a few more words of goodbye, Felix and his mother stand and watch him fade into the crowd as he heads towards the Eurostar queue. 

“He’ll be alright,” Felix’s mother says, and, though he would never admit it, he knows that it is as effective a reassurance for her as it is for him.

[ninjadeathblade]

Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part seven)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 1,285 (shorter than I thought but who cares)

Warnings: None

Author's notes: Cinema chapter! Literally only Conductor and Grooves are named characters this chapter. Next chapter we have a little more Owlice. But yeah, enjoy the boys at the cinema!

"Two large portions of popcorn please," Conductor requested before turning back to look at Grooves.

"You want anythin' else?"

"Um, maybe a bottle of water." Grooves shrugged, looking around the cinema.

"And two bottles of water please," Conductor added, turning back to the vendor.

The vendor nodded, taking a minute to get the things together.

"I cannae believe these tickets have the added charges of food and drinks prepaid. How much did it cost you?" Conductor asked.

"Not much. Besides, you seemed down. And I wanted to help," Grooves admitted.

Conductor let out a huff of amusement as the vendor arrived back with their things.

"Enjoy the movie marathon! There are five minute breaks between each movie and those tickets allow as many snacks and drinks as you and your companion would like," the vendor explained.

"Thanks lad," Conductor responded, balancing the bottles and popcorn buckets in his arms.

"Want a hand with those?" Grooves offered, moving towards Conductor.

The owl shifted the food and drinks in his arms, looking up at the penguin.

"It's fine. But can you direct me? I can't see that well," Conductor replied.

Grooves laughed quietly and picked up a bottle of water and some popcorn anyway.

"We're working together, remember? Let me help," Grooves said, smiling down at him.

Conductor returned the smile, pushing open the door to their cinema room.

"This place is empty, you'd think no one else had been allowed to book," Conductor joked, scanning the room before looking back at Grooves.

Grooves made a face and shrugged slightly.

Conductor stared at him, blinking a few times as he pieced everything together.

"You didn't."

"Well-"

"You hired out the whole cinema room just for me?!"

"I asked around the Express Owls and they said you didn't like when you had to share a cinema with other people! It's not my fault!" Grooves protested, his face a portrait of guilt.

"You pecking idiot," Conductor muttered, not meeting Grooves' eye as he walked over and sat down in a chair.

The lights dimmed and the first movie began to roll.

"So are you mad?" Grooves quietly questioned, sitting down next to him.

Conductor tore his gaze away from the first ever winner of the Annual Bird Movie Award, looking at his co-director.

"I cannae be that mad. I mean, I love these movies," Conductor whispered, looking back at the screen.

"But you shouldn't have done all this for me."

Silence stretched between the two of them as the opening credits finished, launching into the first scene of the movie.

"It's what friends do for each other."

Conductor almost missed Grooves' words.

Conductor looked back over at him, chest growing warm.

He moved his hand over to Grooves', holding onto his flipper.

"You peck neck."

"Yeah, you're nice too."Grooves looked over at him and the two smiled at each other.

"You're a great director," Grooves complimented.

"Shut up and watch the movie," Conductor giggled, resting his head on Grooves' shoulder.

"Those movies were brilliant!" Grooves cheered, pushing open the doors to the lobby.

A couple members of staff looked over at the two birds before returning to their business.

"I told yer! They're amazing!" Conductor replied at an equal volume.

After the second movie the two of them had found out about the cinema's minibar and decided that they could have a few drinks due to the free refreshments.

A few per movie. And there had been three more movies.

"What should we do now?" Grooves asked, holding onto Conductor's hand.

The owl's face screwed up before he gasped. "We should write another love song!"

"But you hate the love songs I write," Grooves frowned as both of them walked outside.

Conductor shivered, feathers puffing up as he pulled his coat tighter around him.

"No I don't. I actually really like yer songs. But how aren't you freezing?!" Conductor hopped up and down slightly, trying to stay warm.

"The moon is really cold," Grooves said.

"Here, take my jacket." The penguin took off his red jacket, draping it around his partner's shoulder.

The owl pulled it tighter around himself, frowning as the baggy fabric touched the floor.

"Why is it so big?"

"Because it still needs to look the right size when I'm wearing my platform shoes," Grooves replied.

"Anyway, are we gonna write this love song or not?"

"Course we pecking are! We're amazing!" Conductor answered loudly.

"We're the greatest directors ever!" Grooves shouted, spinning around a lamp post.

"Actually, the director who won Annual Bird Movie Awards five, seven, and twenty one was the greatest director ever, he was declared as it," Conductor stated.

"Oh."

"Tied for second greatest directors ever! Conductor and Grooves!" Conductor yelled happily, grabbing onto the penguin's arm as he swayed slightly

"How come you get to go first?" Grooves asked, looking down at his friend.

"Because I've won more awards." Conductor said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Let's go write that song!" Grooves began walking, dragging Conductor along with him."

"Yeah!" Conductor agreed before pausing.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait!" Grooves looked down at his companion.

"What?"

"Yer drunk," Conductor deadpanned.

"So are you."

"No, I'm not. If I were drunk you'd know it," Conductor explained. "But I still don't trust myself to get us back to the studio."

"Well then, let's go back to my place. My apartment's only a block or two away," Grooves suggested.

"I didn't know you had an apartment near here."

Conductor blinked up at the penguin, tugging his friend's coat tighter around himself.

"You never asked."

"Well then, I'll take you back to yours then I'll head to either the Express or the studio," Conductor responded, putting his hands into the pockets of Grooves' coat.

"D'you want your coat back?"

"No, you can hold onto it for now. Just give it back to me tomorrow," Grooves decided. "And you could always stay over tonight. It's already early morning."

"No. I'll head back."

"It's fine, really."

"You already treated me to the cinema, no need for anythin' else."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Most of the walk to Grooves' apartment was spent in silence until just before they reached the door.

"I think I'm gonna collapse from tiredness. Keep talking to me so I stay awake," Grooves instructed, fumbling with his keys.

"About what?" Conductor asked.

"Anything. Everything."

Conductor took a deep breath. "Okay then."

He wasn't sure what came over him but he plunged into a nervous rant as he followed Grooves.

"I'm worried about making the movie. I'm worried about findin' good actors. I'm worried about the fact that I'm making another romance. I'm worried about working with you. I'm worried that we'll never find the leads. I'm worried that I'll never be good enough for this. I'm worried that I won't be creative enough, that I'll never succeed again-"

"Stop being so worried," Grooves interrupted, turning to Conductor and holding the owl's head in his flippers.

"Look at me. You are an amazing director. Your films are brilliant and way better than mine. You have earned every single one of those awards you've gotten. You are one of the best people I've ever met. I am so glad to be working with you. Don't discredit yourself," Grooves affirmed.

"Oh." Conductor wasn't really sure what else to say.

"Anyway, I'm gonna pass out on the sofa darling. See you tomorrow." Grooves yawned, letting go of Conductor and walking the short distance to the sofa before lying down.

"Should I leave your coat here too?" Conductor asked from the doorway.

"Keep it. I'll have it back tomorrow. You'll freeze otherwise," Grooves said tiredly.

"Okay. Night Grooves."

"Night Connie."

"Don't call me that."

[withgreatpowercomesmyfuckingdick]

this come out of nowhere really, I just can't get myself to sleep without sharing this but why in all time travel fanfic. sephiroth seems to be extra aware of his status of " experiment " ??? it just, I don't know. I don't say that sephiroth or even genesis and angeal are stupid but it's strange to me that they seem extremely aware about it in those fanfic. when in crisis core, that piece of Informations seems to be new to them. i mean, do I just see the wrong issue? the way they learn that they are experiment choked them to the core. none of them reacted well? sephiroth just thought that he was special he said it himself.

maybe he lied to himself or the company and hojo did not treat him like we thought they did , at least outside of those experiment. so I find it weird when I read fanfiction that the big 3 already knows and acknowledged it, when that information was one of the big reveal and issues of crisis core.

also sephiroth not technically being 100 % aware of his experiment status means that most of us write hojo extremely wrong when he interacted with sephiroth. I mean, I don't know he seems to snob every one but sephiroth. in ff7, he was just weird, extremely fixed on sephiroth.

or maybe I interpreted it the wrong way ? maybe I am just stupid I don't know. I don't want to say something stupid.

I don’t think this is stupid at all and you are definitely not stupid, lovely! No one is stupid for expressing their opinions, even and especially when those opinions go against the crowd. And nothing’s wrong with a little critique lol, keeps me humble

(long text as always, but main points highlighted red lovelies)

Truth is, most fanfic around Sane!Sephiroth is heavy headcanon, and I am no better. We know (somewhat) that Sephiroth was raised in Nibelheim for some time but obviously didn’t see the townspeople as he has no memory of them, so it’s easier to conclude he was raised in a lab or some other isolated Shinra area. Sephiroth doesn’t actually know much about his origins, neither in canon nor in my fic. He doesn’t even believe he has parents, which he doesn’t cause they’re both ass or dead, but that’s beside the point lol. Sephiroth’s backstory just gives a lot of room for headcanons and the fandom sort of mutually agreed “Yup he’s traumatized as shit” and rolled with it

Now what I definitely took creative liberties with is his confiding in Genesis and Angeal about this childhood trauma. This is a much bigger stretch and more than likely not directly canon, but since I have them in a romantic relationship, there definitely had to be some opening up about what the fuck Hojo was calling Sephiroth into a lab for once a week (back when things were *bad* bad). I think in canon, Genesis and Angeal undoubtedly spotted some things that helped them see that Seph wasn’t completely normal, but they took it in stride because they’re good friends like that.

I would like to clarify one thing: the Firsts are aware that *Sephiroth* was treated badly during his childhood, but only as a SOLDIER child. They don’t have a clue about Jenova and the extent of what Hojo/Hollander/Gast did. Sephiroth doesn’t even know the full extent of what was done to him because as far as he’s aware, he’s a mako SOLDIER with a few gimmicks wired in. Traumatizing? Yes. Inherently monstrous? In his own eyes occasionally, but he’s got other people similar enough to him he can be talked away from it

The introduction of Jenova was nerve wracking and brand new and horrible and gut wrenching. They didn’t ask to be implanted with literal alien cells before their births, doomed to unstable and insane deaths before they’d taken their first steps. Sephiroth grew up a child SOLDIER, but monsters? Artificially made ones perhaps. A little gene splicing, even breeding, like how humanity helped the Liger happen (lion-tiger breed). But monsters that used to be *people*? That was new, and that terrified him. And that’s what sent him into the spiral. So I mean, you’re right. Jenova’s existence does shock them to their core, but Sephiroth’s entire childhood did not revolve around Jenova. Even if his purpose was to be a ‘mock Ancient,’ his developmental years revolved around being a weapon for war.

While I’m on that nofe, I’ve seen some comments on Sephiroth’s “alien cells” comment when he speaks to Zack on things for the first time and I want to clarify: when Sephiroth says alien cells, he meant foreign to the human body, not the fucking earth. None of them have a right clue what Jenova is, just like in canon

Also Everybody Hates Hojo so honestly I don’t think people are concerned? This is a man who was definitely not above experimenting on children, manipulated, nearly killed, and then experimented on a former friend, took advantage of a life/scientific partner for the advancement of an experiment and admitted to having seen her as nothing more than a tool, referred to Aerith as her species rather than a person and planned to literally breed her with another species (facilitated rape, basically), and in the OG game, helps fuel a major mental breakdown of Cloud’s for basically…no fucking reason? Not to mention DoG where he just…decides the planet’s fucking moving lmao. Literally goes “Ah yes, let me follow in my son’s footsteps and genocide the whole population so we can sail the stars :D”

the man is fucking mental regardless. just a personal opinion, but any rendition of Hojo is somewhat accurate if his cruelty is kept. I will admit that my Hojo is more reminiscent of an abusive parent because…that’s sort of what he is, and there’s some projection of my own personal experiences happening

And that’s an aspect of all fiction ofc, and especially fanfiction. Renditions change with authors because authors have different experiences. I can’t begin to tell you all the things I’ve accidentally or purposefully projected into this story.

Honestly I could write more but my eyes keep crossing and I should go to bed myself lol. Your ask really made me think so thanks for submitting! Hope I actually answered you amidst all my nonsense babble, and I hope you get some sleep!!!

[days-left-until-sonic3]

The Knuckles spin-off is officially in production!!

Official synopsis from Variety:

"Knuckles 'agrees to train Wade as his protégé and teach him the ways of the Echidna warrior.'"

My thoughts and theories under the cut!

I am VERY excited but also kind of worried about the synopsis reveal. Of course, it's vague and doesn't give out much, but it is an unfortunate reminder that, despite how enjoyable/likeable the human cast from the Sonic movies can be, it is ultimately at the cost of screen time dedicated to fleshing out the Sonic crew and their world (Mobius, whatever you wanna call it). Nevertheless, it's confirmed the crew will include writers and producers from Sonic 2, so I remain hopeful.

That brings me to my next point— the potential introduction of other characters. When I first heard of the spin off's existence, my mind IMMEDIATELY jumped to Rouge and the Chaotix.

Let's face it: If there's a perfect place to introduce the two, it's here. Come on, Rouge is a WIDELY beloved character for many reasons, and she is a core part of Shadow's development and growth as one of the first people he grows fond of after being awakened. Additionally, her being AFTER the Master Emerald would be a good conflict/arc for the series. We could have her come to our world looking for the ME, finding Knuckles has it, tries and almost manages to steal it, and then Knuckles realizes "oh shit we really need a better hiding place for it." After this, Knuckles and Wade (because Wade is his protegé and thus Knuckles will most likely want him to prove himself and learn first hand about Knuckles' world) could make their way across the universe until they get to Mobius and later Angel Island.

Angel Island would be ideal since, once the ME is restored to its rightful place, it would be virtually inaccessible to 99% of individuals. At this point, the Chaotix could come in as individuals Wade and Knuckles bump into and recruit because they seem to have a clue about where Angel Island might be (they really don't but Vector says they just need to find a clue before K&W and then fake that they knew it all along, plus they just need the money come on Knucks rent won't pay itself). Throughout the journey, Tikal could show up in visions/dreams to Knuckles, speaking to him about what *really* happened with his ancestors and the ME. If we were really taking a stretch, you could even hint at Chaos or something similar, OR introduce the Chao! Maybe Wade could get a Chao to take care of back in Green Hills.

By the end, we would have introduced highly important side characters, fleshed out the plot and worldbuilding, and still keep the human characters in. Additionally, if the series does follow Knuckles and Wade going on their own adventure, it would greatly reduce the cast from S1 and 2 we'd have to keep up with/cutting back to on Earth (after all, it IS the Knuckles spin off XD).

Of course, none of what I've just written is canon or confirmed, just my speculation of how things could play out. If you have any theories or wanna share your opinion on the Knuckles spin off, be sure to send an ask! I'd love to talk to you guys about this :3

Until next time,

-- Mod Shibumi

[straightlightyagami]

decided to poast second chapter of my death note fic here as well (ao3 link).

(first chapter)

(next chapter)

was going for a specific vibe here, might have overdone it. you can already see where some stuff is/will be different from canon.

EDIT: slightly changed some scenes!! I decided what I wanted to do with the "trans Light" thing, with help from a mutual (thank you, Vinny!! idk if you want me to say your username here). Basically, he identifies as trans but is in girlmode and not out to his parents. I was told this would be more in character and I agree. Also, this is not something common in Death Note fanfic, so I thought it would be interesting. Light is referred to with he/him pronouns in his POV and she/her in POV of people who don't know about it.

cw for some mention of eating issues in this chapter but it's just for Light's first few days of using the death note guilt arc

With mounting horror, he was beginning to grasp the impossibility of the task, especially in the worst case scenario of having only a few hours or days. Sure, he could eliminate anyone whose name he knew, and this would seem like an obvious easy way to dismantle certain institutions or governments. But it was not that simple, not at all. In the absence of an existing satisfactory alternative power structure to take the place of a corrupt leader, said leader would simply be replaced. Eliminating all possible replacements would result in a power vacuum, likely making the situation much worse than it was in the first place. So, in the very short term, his power was functionally useless in political terms. 

However, there was no guarantee, or indeed any evidence at all, in favor of or against, that there would be some sort of immediate divine punishment for using this power. As such, it was a balancing act of avoiding sabotaging his future work while also getting enough done to at least have any impact in whatever time he had. So the first step must be…

All of a sudden, it was all clear as day to him. He twirled his pen, turning on the computer and getting to work.

***

It was less than a month away from the winter solstice, so the sun had not yet risen when it was time to start getting ready for school. The sun’s rays painted strokes on the predawn sky like a painter on a canvas. The low clouds were the color of blood.

Light was snapped out of his trance-like state by the sounding of his alarm. He finished the last stroke with his pen, snapped the notebook shut, and hid it in his drawer under some papers, noting to himself that he would have to find a better hiding place later. Both of his hands were cramping a lot, as was his back and neck. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. He had started writing with his right hand, then switched to his left even though it was slower, then switched back. Maybe the hand pain will turn out to be a bigger problem than the guilt of killing people in the long run, he thought, then recoiled from his own thoughts with a revulsion at the rather nonchalant way he was treating the whole affair. Was it really that easy? It was better for him if it was, he supposed.

He went about his morning routine in a methodical, almost robotic fashion. Standing in front of the mirror, he straightened his tie and took a deep breath. I just have to focus on acting as usual. It was all a bad dream. None of it happened. Except, of course, it did. 

As he finished combing his hair in front of the bathroom mirror, he heard his sister Sayu banging on the door. “Are you done in there? I’ve been waiting here for five minutes. I need to go.” 

“Yes, sorry. And good morning to you too.” Adjusting his facial expression to leave no clue to his emotional state, he opened the door, walked past Sayu while pointedly ignoring her pouting and further comments, and went into his room to grab his school bag before heading downstairs. 

He greeted his mother in the kitchen and sat down to eat breakfast, occasionally contributing to the conversation between her and Sayu, who had joined them. He had half expected to feel too nauseous to eat, but all he felt was the familiar sense of numbness.

After packing his lunch in his bag and thanking his mother for the food, Light stood at the door, waiting for Sayu to join him to walk the stretch of road at which their routes to school coincided. They walked together under the late autumn sky, the sound of Sayu’s voice bouncing from the houses as she excitedly chattered about something. Light wished her a good day at school and they parted at the next intersection. 

***

Perhaps as the natural result of pulling an all-nighter (he did not have much experience with that prior to that night), or as his brain’s subconscious method of coping with what he had done, he found himself in a strange state where his mind felt completely empty for once but he was unable to concentrate on any specific task. Every conversation, every action was carried out as if on autopilot. It was as if an icy crust of numbness had encased him. This numbness was broken through when he found himself holding a pencil, ready to start working on an assignment for some class (he realized he was unsure what time in the day it was). As he was about to write his name in the corner of the page, he felt his head spin and found it slightly hard to breathe. Dropping the pen to prevent his hands from visibly shaking, he got up, apologized, saying he wasn’t feeling well, and walked out of the classroom. 

He headed to the girls’ bathroom on the third floor, figuring that unless someone purposefully wanted to summon Hanako-san, it would be the most private option. Inwardly, he scoffed at such superstitions, but remembering the cause of his present torment, could he be as sure that all urban legends are entirely baseless?

Thankfully, there was no one inside, so he could avoid being asked awkward questions, or worse, someone witnessing his inevitable tears. It was less uncomfortable that way. He took a shaky breath and steadied himself against the sink, staring into his reflection in the mirror as if it could give him the answers he needed. His face was just the same as the day before, the same soft brown hair falling into his eyes, but could he be the same person? He could pretend, but he could definitionally no longer truly be the person he was before. Every smile, every word would be a lie. In a way, every decision he made about someone else’s death killed a part of him too.

Another wave of panic hit him as he realized that him being dead might soon be not so metaphorical. Feeling hot tears flow down his cheeks, he headed for the third bathroom stall so nobody would see. He sat on the toilet with its lid closed and pulled his legs up, pressing his forehead against his knees, and wept soundlessly. 

There was objective proof of the supernatural. No doubt this meant there would be some kind of retribution for his actions. Or, if someone were to stumble upon the notebook… if they found out it was real… even if it was his family, they would hate him. They would kill him. Maybe he deserved it. He did not want to die. There was still so much he wanted to see and know… It seemed to him that it would make for a miserable life for him to die this young.

More than ever before, he wanted to live.

But he had no choice. What was done was done, he had to keep going (sunk cost fallacy, a voice in his mind supplied. Except it’s not a fallacy, he reasoned, because it actually applies in this case. There are no second chances. One mistake is all it takes. Might as well make the most of it). He finally had what he had always wanted, a chance to change the world, and he had to take it even if it ultimately killed him. Doing otherwise would be a supremely selfish act. And Light resolved that until his last breath, he would hold out hope that he could see a better world come to fruition, for his altruism was matched only by his optimism.

***

It was just past eleven in the evening. Sachiko closed her book as her phone buzzed with a message from her husband. He was working late again, so there was no point in waiting. She got up and was about to turn off the lights in her room when she heard a strange noise downstairs. 

Light was standing in the middle of the kitchen, head in her hands, elbows on the counter. 

“Light? Did something happen?”

She looked up, slightly startled, as if she had not expected to see anyone there. “No, mom… Everything is fine. I’m just a little tired. I will go to bed now.”

“If you say so…” Sachiko watched her begin to walk away and stopped her. “Listen. If there is something wrong, you can always tell me, you know. I am your mother.”

Light turned around and smiled. “I know. It’s nothing. Goodnight.”

She pulled her into a hug. “You are the best daughter a mother could ask for.”

***

Somehow, his mother’s embrace made him feel worse, and for once not even because it was an unwelcome reminder of how he was a daughter. He felt disgusting and impure because he was a liar who lied to himself and to everyone else, who allowed his own mother to love a murderer. He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to fall asleep for three hours before giving up and going to his desk to write names.

***

The next few days passed similarly. Light forced himself to sleep and eat whenever he could so he would not die, but it was a challenge. During the weekend, he spent most of the day writing names, taking breaks only when his hands hurt too much. When he went back to school, he felt like he could collapse at any moment. 

On Wednesday evening, he was sitting at his desk, flipping through the notebook, feeling rather self-satisfied. In five days, he had written over 500 names. His plan was going great; he had no doubt about it now. Outside, the wind was howling and the rain pattered on the roof and on the window. A quiet laugh escaped his lips.

“You seem to like it,” a raspy voice sounded behind him.

Light whipped around and found himself facing some kind of demonic creature. It was well over two meters tall, with black feathery wings, bugged out eyes that glowed red, and long, sharp teeth and claws. He screamed and fell off his chair. 

“Why are you so surprised to see me? I’m Ryuk, the shinigami who dropped that notebook,” the creature said. “The way you were acting just now, I can tell you know it isn’t an ordinary notebook.”

“A shinigami?” Light slowly rose to his feet, steadying himself against his chair. So he was right… “I’m not surprised to see you, Ryuk. In fact, I have been waiting for you.”

The shinigami tilted its (his?) head curiously. “Really?”

“By visiting me, you have confirmed what I thought,” Light continued. If he was going to die now, he would not let the creature see his fear. “There is a lot I wanted to ask you.” He showed Ryuk the filled pages. 

“Wow,” the shinigami said with a grating laugh, “I gotta say I’m surprised. Death notes have made it to the human world before, but you are the first to write so many in just five days. Most humans would be too scared.”

“I used the notebook knowing it belonged to a shinigami. Ryuk, did you come to take my soul?”

“Huh? Is that some fantasy you humans came up with? I’m not going to do anything to you. The moment a death note lands in the human world, it belongs there. So it’s yours now.”

“Mine?”

“You don’t want it, give it to another human. When you do, I will erase all of your death note memories.”

“So there is no price to pay for using the death note?” 

“Not exactly. There is the terror and torment only humans who’ve used it will experience, and when you die, I’ll be the one writing your name down. But don’t think that any human who’s used the death note can go to heaven or hell.”

That could mean only one thing. Justice truly did not inherently exist in the universe. Not that Light believed in such things, but it was still odd to be probably the only person alive to know it for certain. “One more question. Why did you choose me?”

Ryuk laughed again. “Choose you? Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t choose you. I dropped the notebook, and you just happened to pick it up.”

It was not quite adding up. Ryuk’s actions, from a logical standpoint, did not make sense. He was withholding something. “Why did you drop it?”

“I was bored.”

At that moment, Light heard a knock at his door. He panicked. How would he hide a shinigami from his mom?

“Go ahead, open it.”

Light hesitated but obliged. His mother was holding a basket of apples (red delicious, the worst kind). “The neighbors brought some over…” she explained, completely unaware of the monster in his room. “Why is it so dark in here? You’ll ruin your eyes.”

“Sorry, Mom. Thank you.” He closed the door, set the apples down on his desk, then looked at Ryuk questioningly.

“The death note is the bond between Light the human and Ryuk the shinigami. Nobody else can see me unless they touch the notebook.” Ryuk paused to gobble up an apple. “Apples in the human world are so… how do you say? Juicy.” He proceeded to eat the rest of the apples.

Well, he would have to find a way to hide the notebook to make sure nobody touched it. In the meantime, he decided to get back to the previous topic. “You said you were bored?”

“There’s nothing interesting in the shinigami realm. The others spend all their time gambling. All there is to do is write humans’ names, and that’s no fun when we can’t even see them. I figured the human world would be more interesting.” Ryuk turned his unblinking stare on the pages again. “I have to ask, what did you write all of these names and descriptions for? We shinigami do it because the remaining years of the human’s lifespan are added to our own. But you don’t get anything from it.”

“I was bored, too.” Light smiled sadly. “To tell you the truth, the human world is rotten. We have built great civilizations, but people continue to suffer. And the worst thing is, all these problems, of war, poverty, environmental collapse… we would be perfectly capable of fixing them, but the interests of those with the means to do so necessitate their continued existence. I may be in a position to benefit from how things are now, but,” he turned to face the window, “I cannot simply look at the world and turn away from all this suffering that I am capable of reducing by using this notebook. My goal is not to rule the world. I just want people to see how wrong our capitalist system is and take action themselves. The first phase of my plan, that I have been enacting for the past few days, is to get people to take notice. I’ve done this by getting rid of the world’s worst criminals, such as serial killers and rapists, crime bosses and the like whose identities are known but nonetheless elude the police, and corrupt officials or corporate criminals, who are usually not punished by the justice system. You may have noticed that while I controlled the actions of some people before death, I did not specify the cause of death for most of them. That’s the best thing about the death note, Ryuk. If you don’t write a cause of death, they all die of a heart attack. People are bound to start noticing soon… and then, I can move on to the next phase of my plan.”

“And what’s that?”

Light turned back around to face Ryuk. “You will find out when it’s time.”

“I was right… Humans are so interesting.”

***

After showering and brushing his teeth, Light walked back to his room in pajamas and stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. “Do shinigami sleep?”

“Huh? No.”

“Well, please do not disturb me while I’m sleeping,” and with that, he turned off the lights and climbed under the covers. 

Ryuk was definitely a threat, and one Light did not know how to eliminate at that, so it was a little disconcerting, but he could think about that later. For now, at least he knew he would likely not die in the near future, so he would be able to plan ahead. Knowing this felt like a weight had been lifted from him. He realized just how tired he was. It was only half past nine, quite a bit earlier than he usually went to bed, but the several days of poor sleep and nightmares had caught up to him. He curled up beneath the covers, closed his eyes, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[edalynn]

huntlow shippers say its pretty much confirmed they'll be canon and i do see some of their arguments. blushing is used as shorthand for romantic feelings so it makes sense for some to interpret hunter blushing as a crush. and to make it more balanced shippers then look at scenes of them interacting and stretch the logic a bit to argue that willow also has a crush (though i absolutely don't see it lol).

but i feel like the crew is more teasing the fans with the ship than actually foreshadowing that it would happen in the story, you know? they go out of their way to avoid any actual conversation between hunter and willow after their first episode together. and even though hunter is given the "romantic" shorthands willow is given none.

in that one stream when someone asked if the ship would happen dana found it rly funny and reacted like they were going to tease the fandom with something unexpected. and they can't kill off one half of the ship bc that would go against the vibe of the story and hunter and willows character arcs. but if they're just going to make them canon then it's weird that dana would have such a big reaction to it. i would have just expected a cryptic smile and a "stay tuned ;DDD"

same with that one promo art of thanks to them with huntlow holding hands like if they do get together why would you show that on a piece of promo art? especially for an episode where they don't get together? it would have been more impactful if they just let it happen in the show without alluding to it in the promos. they definitely didn't do that for lumity or raeda. same thing with some other promo arts where huntlow are standing next to each other or that one where hunter is looking at willow.

i can buy that hunter has a crush but i can't see willow having one, or them getting together in a well-written way. im really hoping they go with the "willow rejects hunters love confession" route bc they haven't had a conversation in almost 10 episodes and i trust the crew to write romantic relationships better than that. i hope the crew's push for the huntlow ship is just a big troll on their part (although it would be kind of mean to huntlow shippers if it was just a troll)

The whole belief that it’s “confirmed canon” is honestly my biggest gripe with huntlows because the ones that insist it is canon are the ones that come after people that don’t ship it, as if there haven’t always been people in fandom spaces that actively ignore actual canon ships anyway. It’s definitely frustrating because blushing is often used as romantic shorthand, but toh has down an amazing job from day one of showing characters blushing at people they look up to or admire with absolutely no romantic context (I.e. Willow at Luz, or Luz at Eda which is CLEARLY one of awe and admiration) so I think if they pull the rug out from under shippers and have it said or implied “it was because he looked up to her the whole time, not romantic!” It would be very on brand and also hilarious. And if it IS a crush, I’m going to decide to ignore canon and say Hunter has very little social skills and has no idea what just admiring and wanting to be a person’s friend feels like so he thinks it’s romantic attraction lol. In the other hand with Willow, she clearly has no romantic interest in him whatsoever. As I said before, we’ve seen Willow blush and it’s only ever been in a platonic sense (aroace Willow 👀) so if that’s shippers’ marker for romantic attraction she definitely is NOT interested in him in that way.

I definitely agree with you that it feels like a tease, and it would definitely be Dana’s MO for a show she’s so heavily laden with queer rep for the straight “couple” to get the usual queerbait treatment. It would feel like a fuck you to Disney and every other show that has made queer ppl the butt of their jokes for so many years and I think that’s beautiful. Also im so glad you think the same thing about that stream. I’ve said the EXACT same thing in the past- that reaction was definitely not a blushy uwu my pairing reaction that was the reaction of a person that has some shit up her sleeve in regards to the question lmfao. Dana hasn’t reacted that way visibly about lumity OR raeda which she later in the same stream said was her favorite ship, so reacting that way to a ship that’s not even canon and that fans are constantly theorizing about seems SO un-Dana terrace to me. Like I cannot stress enough how much that would not make sense lmao.

I haven’t seen the promo art of them holding hands??? Kind of glad I haven’t seen it? But yeah, the way they’re always looking at each other in promo art. It definitely seems like a tease, though because none of those episodes have really had them interacting at all. I genuinely cannot see how they could produce a well written romance like you said even before this last episode, but ESPECIALLY now after this last episode. It would feel cheap and like they’re using a romance as the thing to heal hunter after all the trauma he’s gone through. With flapjack, you know,, and being the most important thing in Hunter’s life, it feels they’ve narratively gone too far for huntlow to end up being anything more than a “sure your best friend might have died to save your life, but you’re all better now because the girl said yes :)” type deal. It makes me feel kinda sick thinking about it because it would feel disrespectful to everything he’s just gone through. Hunter needs time to grieve and re-find himself, the thought of him having any romantic feelings for anyone/a crush on anyone after what happened wouldn’t make sense. Like “oh yeah that was traumatizing, but potential romance!!”. Like it would be shelving all the trauma he now needs to process and make flapjack’s sacrifice feel so cheap because I cannot see hunter having any interest in anything like that anymore directly after that’s happened. When people are traumatized like that they tend to close off, emotions shut down, etc (not to say that’s exactly what will happen, but it narratively makes sense after all that with how we already know hunter acts) and wouldn’t actively be thinking about a romance but would more likely be distancing himself. I swear to god if we get a scene of the hexsquad and camila of hunter explaining being a grimwalker/what all happened and it ends with him blushing at Willow because she for once ever does something romantic back or just hugs him or something I will snap because like I said it would make it feel like flapjacks sacrifice is being pushed to the wayside just to further a random ship that barely has any canon evidence. It already would have felt cheap to make it canon before, but it REALLY would now. That being said, I agree with you that I trust that if they were going to end up romantic the crew would have done much better writing for it rather than it feeling like a constant tease AND I trust Dana to handle the aftermath of all the shown physical abuse Hunter just experienced better than to make huntlow canon to “fix him”. The amazing quality of writing for lumity and raeda really doesn’t lend high hopes for huntlow actually becoming canon & I hope it stays that way for the sake of the writing.

[icollectyoursins]

Jotaro Relationship Head Canons SFW

Because I’m a self indulgent little shit and just love to ignore all of the work I have to do, have some Jotaro head canons. I am but a humble simp, and love this man. So much.

Update as of writing this. Somehow, it got very angsty, so... yeah. Sad man vibes. Also rambly. I just kinda kept going.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: None, just angst, but nothing too serious.

Word Count: 2,985

Jotaro’s type is... I mean, it depends, like most people. I don’t think he’s super picky over appearances or things like that, it’s more whether or not he gets along with you and how long he can put up with you.  He’s polite (well, as polite as he can be) and courteous, but probably a little more apathetic when you’ve first met. Once you’ve been around for a while he’s more relaxed and almost a little more critical. Mostly because you’re his friend now and he expects more from his friends.

While I was writing this I sort of realized that he could be aromantic. Maybe it’s just my own aro tendencies coming through, but I thought it sort of lined up with his personality. Or at least from my experience with romantic attraction.

Eventually, though, he’ll admit he cares about you a little more than he cares about others. It comes through in little almost compliments. “You did good. Keep it up” or “good job, dealing with this” are common phrases that sound nice on the surface, but it almost feels like he’s trying to pressure you to do more, which is far from the truth.  

If it’s not awkward compliments like that, it’s awkward gifts. Always something you had briefly mentioned wanting or stared at a minute longer than you usually do, wrapped in a paper that’s your favourite colour or pattern. Sometimes, though, it’s something you’ve never mentioned that he somehow guessed would be something you wanted.

At the same time, though, he’s oblivious or at least acts like he is. There may be times when he goes home after you said something exceptionally sweet to him or that just means so much and he’ll just take a moment sitting at his desk to mull over what you said.

    With a grunt, Jotaro rolled back into the armchair with a cup of tea in one hand and today’s newspaper in the other, since he didn’t get to read it this morning. It’s late with the sun almost completely set, giving his room an orange hue. He tries reading the first column, something about a cat being saved from a sewer grate, but after about a minute, he catches himself drifting away, sort of staring blankly at the paper.

    He blinks hard, taking a long sip from his coffee. He must be tired. Another attempt is made at reading, this time the comics. They’re not his favourite thing, but short enough that he can focus on them. Or so he thought.

    He zones out again, face suddenly feeling very hot.

    He was thinking about you. Or, rather what you said.

    It was something so simple, so mundane.

    You had been talking about family together, exchanging drama, if you will, and he had brought up how his father had left his mother when he was very young. It didn’t bother him, he had said, after all, it was years ago and if he was being honest, he didn’t really need a father. Then, you gave him this look. It wasn’t pity or something like that. You put your hand on his knee, staring deep into his eyes.

    “Jotaro,” you said, voice soft and sweet. You struggled to say the next words, opening your mouth, sighing, then finally: “I’m not leaving you.”

    “Why would you be leaving?” He said, confused, taking it literally. Or, he pretended to be confused. It had made his heart warm with affection.

    What Jotaro hadn’t noticed at that moment was that his eyes seemed to gloss over with wet tears while talking about his father. He wasn’t over it, you understood that. How could he be? He was so young then, he probably didn’t understand what was happening or why and now that he’s a father himself, there had to be so much guilt about being the same way. It was only now that he was realizing how much you had an effect on him.

    It didn’t make him sad, by any means but... loved. He’ll say thank you tomorrow with a gift or some flowers. He hadn’t planned on meeting you for the rest of the week because he was busy, but work could wait, right? Yeah. Tomorrow.

God, it would take so long for him to get you to move in together. He’s so used to living on his own that I think he’s a little self-conscious about it. He’s not a slob by any means, but certainly a bachelor. I mean, he lived (assumedly) on his own from probably around or earlier than DiU right up until Stone Free, so it’s been a while and he’s certainly comfortable with his mess of clothes lying on the floor in the corner, but you won’t be. He cleans up before people come over, obviously, but how many times did he actually invite someone in?

When you start staying around more, he starts cleaning more, which makes him a little frustrated both coming to terms with liking someone enough that he’s actively cleaning for them once a week and also discovering that he’s a lot more gross than he thought. You would not believe how stained the counter was from coffee or how gross the filter was on the coffee maker. He takes his coffee very seriously. You begin to notice how clean everything is, well, how consistently clean everything is and it even starts to smell nicer, more floral and fresh. He bought a lavender air freshener. “It’s supposed to be calming,” he’ll say with a hint of annoyance. It’s not a bad smell to him, better than vanilla air fresheners, but it does give him a headache when he first sprays his place. You seem to like it though, so he’s willing to put up with it.

I honestly believe this man can cook, but nervous when cooking for other people. His food when he was a bachelor was good enough for him and I’m sure Holly would have shown him a lot too, but it’s not the best food. He definitely steps up his game when you’re over and even more so when you move in. He’s better with dishes that have pasta or noodles because it’s easy, but he’s not too bad behind the grill either.

When you guys finally live together, he tries to keep the cooking even, with you cooking some days and him doing the rest, but I honestly feel like unless you are a hazard in the kitchen, you would do most of it.

Jotaro would be like that with most things around the house partly because he doesn’t want you to do all the work if you don’t want to but he enjoys having a little more time to himself to either do work or... yeah, it’s just work. There are a few things that he’ll never make you do because it’s either too hard or he’s built up a routine of doing that thing a certain way and he’s convinced no one else will do it right. Like his laundry. He won’t let anyone else clean his clothes. He tried once and nothing dried right, he swears that his jacket is still damp to this day. You can fold his stuff or hang it up, but he’s running the washing machine and dryer. Also picky about how his office is cleaned.

If you asked and gave a legitimate reason for not doing a certain chore, he’ll do it, but be prepared with an excuse as to why you can’t wash the dishes or fold the laundry. He’s especially resistant if he’s working whether that be gathering information for the Speedwagon Foundation or editing his latest Marine Biology book.

Actually, can we just talk about how much this man hates folding laundry? It’s so pointless to him. Why fold it and put it into neat little piles when you’re just gonna rummage through the drawer and mess everything up? Sure, it looks nice, I guess, but not for long. He was for sure a floordrobe kind of guy, especially in his early years. He knows which ones are clean, it’s fine, just leave it. Of course, he would get better the longer you’re at his place, but still. It’s not that he’s lazy, he’s just busy and putting clothes away takes way too fucking long. (which, honestly, agreed.)

Date nights with Jotaro are... rare. I mean, you live with him, why would he want to go out and pay for something when he could do the same thing at home? They’re nice, of course, but it’s more common for him to take you out to dinner while you guys are on vacation or in a location other than home, because he doesn’t feel like cooking and it’s more special when you’re supposed to go out. Eventually, it clicks in that you are supposed to make each other feel special and will surprise you with an expensive dinner or a short cruise. If you suggest the aquarium he’ll think you’re just saying that because he’s into aquatic wildlife, but honestly doesn’t put up much of a fight and will answer any questions you or anyone else has about the fish.

He does enjoy a good relaxing movie (or documentary) night at home, though. It’s so nice to finally be finished work, settle into your super comfy couch and just chill until he gets tired. Even better when you’re lying on top of him with your head just under his chin. There’s something so soothing about smelling your perfume, shampoo, conditioner, cologne, etc. To just smell you so close to him and feel your weight. Aaah. So nice.

    The microwave beeps faintly from the kitchen signalling that popcorn was done. You trailed out soon after, tossing the bowl to mix around the butter. You smile sweetly at him, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Jotaro’s lips before settling into his lap, nestling your head just under his while stretching out your legs. His arm instinctively moves from the back of the couch to drape over your back, rubbing circles into it with his thumb.

    He sighs; relaxed, finally. He allows himself to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes for a moment, just basking in your comfort. When he opens his eyes, he pulls you closer to him, feeling your heart beat almost in time with his. It was moments like these that eased his panic of losing you. You were here in his arms, safe and sound and vice versa. He was safe in yours.

Yeah, he’s a little angsty. But, can you blame him? He’s getting better, though. With help, of course. With you being around so often (and being very adamant that you’re not going anywhere) he’s able to let go a little. He’s not perfect, by a long shot and progress is slow, but it’s the little things like these that makes you proud of how far he’s come.

PDA is common, but a little restricted. When you’re out together, Jotaro’ll always have his hand on your back or shoulder. Hand-holding isn’t really a thing for him, but he will make sure you know he’s there. He’ll kiss you in public, but it’s not nearly as intimate or special as when you’re at home. Still, it’s a sweet reminder that he loves you, seeing as words of affection aren’t really his thing.

I mean, he can express himself just fine, but he still gets a little nervous saying things like ‘I love you.’ It’s more along the lines of ‘I care about you.’ Or, well. “of course, I care about you. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Which... thanks. I think.

Kissing him is so nice, so you’re not too mad about him doing that instead of words. When Jotaro kisses you it’s full of a mix of emotions. Mostly caring, but on his rough days, there’s something else there. It could be worry or whatever the emotional equivalent of never letting you go is. You can always tell that he wants it to last a little bit longer. There’s something in the sad look in his eyes when he or you has to pull away. Sometimes he’s overly gentle like he’ll break you somehow, especially if you’re not a stand user or fighting-inclined (whether physical or otherwise). It’s not patronizing, or at least he tries not to be patronizing, he just prefers you safe.

    It started out simple enough. You and Jotaro were just sitting at the table, eating dinner when he got this... sinking sort of feeling. There was something in the silence between you that just sent his mind spiralling. Thoughts of you someday dying too soon for whatever reason or leaving him because he’s not there enough, stand users, car crashes, divorce. They all started to flood into his mind, fabricating that you would somehow be taken away from him.

    “Jotaro? Are you okay?” Your voice rings through; a bright light breaking the storm. He’s been staring at his plate for a while now, his eyes are dry and itchy. He looks at you and tries to say something, but the words don’t come. Is he okay?

    You stand up and walk over to him, cupping his face gently. You rub the dark circles under his eyes while kissing his forehead. Jotaro slowly wraps his arms around you, letting his face fall into your hands. You’re pulled into his lap after a few minutes, running your fingers through his hair next. Finally, he sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

    “Thank you,” he mumbles and though you’re not quite sure why, you still say a quiet you’re welcome, silently soothing him through whatever happened.

If you couldn’t tell, he needs a lot of reassurance. Not so much words, but actions like the snippet above. I mean, he can be as strong as he wants but we all know he’s got some baggage and while he’s able to put it aside, for the most part, I think when you’re at home he’s just a little more vulnerable.

Now, onto happier things! If you like coffee or tea, he will always make you a cup in the morning. Jotaro is a very early riser except on the weekends, so he usually gets that done while reading or watching the news and when you come down, he’ll ask if you want breakfast then make it for you seeing as he’s more awake.

He loves coffee. So much. He might have a caffeine addiction, honestly. At all times of every day, you can see him with a black coffee in hand and a book or phone in the other. He will switch to decaf at some point, but you might have to switch it for him. He’s forgetful when he gets busy.

Sleeping in on the weekends is like heaven for him. The two nights (or more on holidays) that he gets a full nights rest, breakfast in bed and a warm soul to cuddle into. He’s usually big spoon with a hand just resting on your side, but please, for the love of god make him the little spoon once a week. Will never admit it or vocalize wanting it. He just grabs your hand and drapes it over him with a “good night” and then promptly passes out.

He’s a heavy sleeper but doesn’t sleep often. Once he’s out, there is nothing that could wake him up except the fire alarm or something like that. It just takes a while. Not because of trauma, but more just internal clock is delayed.

Not a bath guy, strictly showers ‘cause they’re quicker. Most of the time he’s in and out before you can invite him into yours. When you do he’s “reluctant” but showers with you are a favourite of his. He gets his hair washed for him (if he bends down), he can wash you. It’s great.

I don’t think he would want more kids. He’s getting older, busier and just doesn’t think he has the time to care for a baby, even with help. Plus, if they were anything like Joylne or god forbid him when he was younger, he might start greying sooner than he thought. Joylne is a great kid, but... she’s definitely got some of his defiance in him. One kid is fine.

He doesn’t really like pets either, hates when there’s fur on all the furniture. But, if you came home with a stray cat or two, he’s not gonna put up a fight if you say they’re not going to the pound. “Just as long as you take care of them yourself.”

You got him a betta fish once because Jotaro. Fish. Makes sense. He thought it was a little pointless at first. You can’t pet them or play fetch (not like he does those things anyway). All a fish does is sit there and look pretty. You were a little disappointed, but whatever, you’ll take care of it. Then he comes home one day with a 30-gallon tank, freshwater plants and fancy lighting to help them grow which he quietly sets up in the living room. He spent at least a half-hour deciding on where to put it.

A week later, after he’s pleased with how it looks and the tank has been cycled he puts in an order for more fish then lets your betta acclimate to the tank. “There, he’ll be happier in here. The idea of bettas not enjoying or panicking in larger tanks is a myth. He won’t be alone for long anyway. He also won’t kill everything in the tank.” Well, he hopes he won’t, each fish is different. Thankfully, the small school of tetras get along with your betta just fine. From then on, he’s in there once a week, cleaning everything, trimming the overgrowth. It is officially his tank.

[fromzerotoeuphoria]

So you wanna say that RinHaru is a "tOxiC" ship...

*siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh*

It's 2021, humanity has survived a freakin pandemic and people are still out here calling RinHaru 'tOxiC!!1!'?? Like with their full chests??

Imagine HOW TIRED—

Random blog post:

Also random blog post:

In at number one we have RinHaru, also known as Sharkbait. Everything Free! began and ended with these two. The entire first season is about their relationship, and the final fight in the Eternal Summer Special is between them. RinHaru may not have the years of friendship that MakoHaru and SouRin have behind them - but that’s what makes them such an amazing pairing. Within just a short few months in the last term of their last year of elementary school, Rin and Haru became an unforgettable presence in each other’s lives.

(Come on, you know points were made 😉).

But then ofc, you got people crying in the comments that their ship isn't No.1. Which okay, I totally get that you'd feel your ship should be at the top even though the article is just someone's personal opinion...and they didn't even attack your ship; if anything, they put it at No.2 and only had lovely things to say about it, but seriously?? Calling RinHaru toxic?? In the year of our lord 2021???

Aren't y'all exhausted with your own selves by now? I know the rest of us are.

And so, I'm sharing my response to those comments here, for although I have much more organized and polished essays on my drafts on how RinHaru Is NOT Toxic, I really had to just get these points out for now:

Claiming something to be true doesn't make it true, especially when it's driven by an emotional attachment to an opposing ship.

None of the relationships in Free are toxic except for Ikuya x Hiyori, ugh, especially RinHaru, since this is the one haters love to ignorantly throw the "toxic" label on. The entire series wouldn't revolve around Haru and Rin's relationship if that were the case (and Utsumi, the director, comes out and says that Free! is Haru and Rin's story).

The staff, director, VAs all have POSITIVE and lovely things to say about Haru and Rin's friendship. Utsumi said in the RinHaru Mook interview that Rin was the only one who could do what he did in helping Haru realize his dream in S2. In Ep4 of Take Your Marks, Haru himself literally tells Rin that he is the reason Haru was even able to move towards the future. This is all CANON, not headcanon, not fanon, but actual canon material directly from the words of the Free! staffa and anime.

Explain to me how RinHaru is "tOxiC"?? Because they've argued? Because Rin unknowingly and unintentionally hurt Haru when he only once ever told him he'd never have to swim with him again?? Because Rin was suffering with depression (as Utsumi herself said) throughout Season 1 and sometimes showed symptoms of his depression? Because Rin kicked a trashcan out of frustration in S1E12????

Hahaha like seriously, it's okay if you strongly dislike RinHaru as a ship, but calling it "tOxiC" is such a pathetic stretch as a hater. Especially when doing so, you undermine actual toxic relationships and the victims who live through them.

The entire Free! franchise has multiple movies, 2.5 whole seasons and even a 4-episode film that shows Rin being one of the most supportive, sweet, caring and motivating characters on the show. He drives Haru to constantly improve at swimming, was the only one who was able to breakthrough to Haru in Season 2 about Haru's future dream the way he did (again, as Utsumi herself said), is the reason Haru attributes to being able to step towards the future, is a "dear friend" to Haru whom Haru cares a whole lot about and, as Season 1 shows us, strongly wants in his life.

But I guess none of this exists for antis—nope, in their own 2013-stuck worlds, RiNhArU iZ dA tOxiC sHiP.

(But hey, at least the commenter agreed in a follow-up comment that their claim is "dry, unoriginal ignorant and completely-undermining-to-ACTUAL-toxic-relationship"—acceptance is one of the first steps to recovery :))

[iatethepomegranate]

For now, they had this

So Shadowgast has finally made me write fanfic again. I started this a few hours after the finale, and then woke up to find Twitter confirmation for my reading of their epilogue. So here’s 2k of soft wizards confirming for each other what they already knew, in their quiet way. I’m playing with the timeline ordering of things, so my interpretation is not necessarily the Canon interpretation of how things went between them.

Demisexual Essek is addressed here, without saying it explicitly. I tried. Massive spoilers for the finale, obviously.

____

For now, they had this

As much as Caleb trusted Essek to handle himself, he had to admit he was nervous about leaving him behind in Aeor. But the longer they spent together, the greater the weight of things unsaid, and Caleb had to take care of something first.

He had to go home. Blumenthal.

So he did. Found his parents’ resting place. Buried his letters to them. Grieved.

He didn’t go back to Aeor right away, the weight of the Sending stone Essek had foisted on him heavy in his pocket. Essek didn’t need it; he could Send without expending too much of his reserves. Essek hadn’t said anything, but Caleb was keenly aware this stone was solely for his benefit.

Caleb lingered close to Blumenthal for a time, feeling the finality wash over him. He could sometimes feel the phantom weight of the letters as if they still hung from his book holster. It would take time for him to get used to not carrying them around anymore. Just like he had carried the weight of what he had done for so long. And likely always would. But he was more at peace with that now. He had a mission to prevent this from ever happening again. There were things he had done about it, and things he would continue to do for as long as he lived. Fixing his home would be a lifelong mission, but he was finally ready to handle it.

Essek left him alone for a few days, until he must have grown anxious. Well, more anxious than usual. Essek, Caleb had learned, was an anxious person.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice appeared in Caleb’s head. Soft, but concerned. “I apologise for the intrusion. Are you all right?” The barest pause. “I am safe up here, but… I am concerned. But no rush. Please.”

“I’m all right,” Caleb replied before the spell could decay, losing the thread of the dome ritual he had begun to cast moments ago. “I will return tomorrow. Stay safe. And thank you.”

Jester would be appalled that he didn’t use all his words, but Caleb was… wrung out. Catharsis was, by its nature, exhausting. His response must have satisfied Essek, who did not Send again.

Caleb began to cast the dome once more, blending the exterior with the greens and browns of the woods, but transparent inside so he could fall asleep under the stars of his childhood one last time.

***

Caleb risked the teleport directly into Aeor the following morning, grasping the paper from the records room firmly in his hand. He mercifully landed exactly where he had intended, breathing the dusty air. His ribs expanded more freely than they had in years.

Essek floated cross-legged just above the floor in the corner, looking up from the pages of a ledger in his hands. He watched silently for a second, as he usually did while waiting for a wild magic surge in this place. When none materialised, he gave Caleb a soft smile.

“Welcome back. Come. I am sure you will find this interesting.”

Essek rarely pushed Caleb to talk when he wasn’t ready; he was grateful, especially now. They sat together on the floor for a time, smudges of salt and soot on their fingers as they dug deeper into the records of Aeor. Stacks of books, long-hidden information, and Essek’s steady, quiet company. Caleb had needed this.

It was only when Caleb threw off his coat to more comfortably crawl among the books, collecting fragments of a damaged volume that had fallen apart at the spine, that Essek said anything unrelated to the work.

“Uh, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Your other book…”

Caleb followed Essek’s gaze to the empty side of his holster. “Ah.” He sat back, depositing the rescued fragments on the floor in front of him. “It was… time to let go.”

Essek watched him quietly, but did not press. But, mere weeks earlier, he had listened to Caleb lay out all his plans to save his parents. He had even offered to help him. And had been visibly relieved when Caleb instead destroyed the time travel device and all the notes that could have been used to replicate it. He knew enough to understand.

So Caleb explained. The letters he had written. His plans to give them to his mother and father after he had saved them. But he had to let go.

“So, I…” Caleb had to take a moment, the tears threatening to overtake him.

Essek silently looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, tucking Caleb into the hollow of his throat. Caleb breathed him in, and remained there. 

“I teleported the book into the earth between their graves,” he murmured. “It's the closest I can… it’s with them now. Best I can manage.” Talking hurt too much, so he stopped.

“Caleb,” Essek said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Caleb let himself cry.

***

Essek was always gentle with him, but even more so in the following days. Passing of materials gave rise to held hands, lingering touches, lingering stares. Slowly, Caleb began to feel better. As much as he believed he could, at least for now. It was better than he had felt in a long time. With time, perhaps, the wounds would ache less. Never perfect, but better.

Having disturbed an absorber of an evening, the resulting scuffle left Caleb too tired to summon the tower. He instead set to conjuring the dome while Essek kept watch. They were a little far to retreat to the records room, but they had managed to barricade an entranceway with damaged furniture despite their pitiful strength. Essek, of course, had demonstrated he was more than capable of surprising everyone, including himself, in moments of great duress. Fortunately, Caleb had not gotten himself trapped under a tower this time.

So, Essek hovered close to Caleb during the ritual, keeping an eye on the door they had barricaded. He was tense, but Caleb had to get this dome up before he could address it. There was also a gash on his forearm that would need dressing… but later. Focus.

The dome popped into existence. Caleb put his spellbook away, feeling his shoulder protest. He would need Essek’s help checking the damage.

Essek ducked into the dome, sighing. “Let us not repeat the events of today.”

Caleb produced a set of clean bandages, a cloth and a waterskin. “Agreed.” He grabbed Essek’s arm and dabbed the dampened cloth against the cut. Essek hissed in pain, but didn’t flinch. He hadn’t in a while. Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a sign Essek was getting hurt far too much, or a sign of trust. Both, perhaps. Caleb bandaged the wound, and held Essek’s arm for a moment longer. He was okay. The fight had been tiring, but they had both come out of it. A cut on the arm was nothing in the scheme of things.

Essek extricated his arm from Caleb’s grip, and pushed Caleb’s coat off his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Caleb hadn’t spoken of the pain, but he also hadn’t tried to hide it. Essek carefully loosened the book holsters--a research journal, for the moment, filled the spot once occupied by the letters--and set them aside. He then ran his fingers gently across the front laces of Caleb’s shirt, until Caleb nodded his consent.

Essek gently tugged the shirt loose until he could pull one side off the sore shoulder. He frowned; Caleb couldn’t see the cause. Essek prestidigitated the washcloth clean and wet it, carefully draping it across Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closed his eyes as the cool sensation took the edge off the pain. He heard a soft mumble, and sensed movement akin to the somatic components of a basic evocation cantrip. The cloth grew colder.

Essek placed his hand over the cloth, squeezing gently. “I think you pulled something. I will continue to ice it tonight.”

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“Rest.” Lips on his forehead. “I will keep watch.”

Caleb opened his eyes. Essek was kneeling at his side, not floating. Too tired, perhaps. But his eyes were sharp, trained on the barricaded doorway.

“Essek.”

“Yes?” Eyes still focused outward.

“Relax a moment. This has been a hard day for both of us.”

Essek let out a long breath, turning his gaze towards Caleb. “I apologise. I… have a hard time seeing you hurt.”

Caleb’s keen mind kindly conjured for him all the times Essek had seen him hurt much worse than this, but he held his tongue. Frequency did not make these things easier. Least of all for Essek, who had been alive for over a century but had only been genuinely close to a small number of people. Caring was hard. Worth it, but hard.

“I know,” Caleb said. “The very nature of caring for someone… witnessing their suffering… it hurts.”

Essek frowned at the floor, but then lifted his gaze to Caleb. “I worried while you were away.”

“I know. And thank you.” Caleb pulled Essek in with his good arm, laying his head on his shoulder. He felt, not for the first time, the urge to talk about this thing between them. But, as he had felt many times before, now was not the time.

Caleb and Essek were not the kind of people to blurt out complicated feelings in a moment of distress or exhaustion. So he closed his eyes and rested against Essek instead. They were what they were to each other, and Caleb was confident this would not disappear overnight. Putting that into words could wait a little longer.

***

The next day was quiet, spent examining record books rescued from the rampage of yesterday’s absorber. Caleb and Essek needed a quieter day, and the slower pace was welcome. They rarely spoke while in the throes of research, always keenly aware of each other, passing paper and writing implements back and forth, smudging soot and salt against each other’s skin as their touches lingered.

It was everything Caleb had ever wanted.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and roll his aching shoulder, his eyes were drawn to Essek’s form in the corner. So engrossed in his reading and note-taking, he had stopped floating about an hour ago. Hunched on the hard, warped floor of this broken city, eyes intense as he scribbled feverishly. He was running low on ink again.

Caleb chuckled softly and crawled closer, gently nudging another inkwell into Essek’s reach. Essek paused in his scribbles, a small smile softening his features. He reached out, eyes retracing the notes he had just written, but instead of taking the ink, he caught Caleb’s fingers and laced them with his own.

Caleb had figured out he was in love with Essek long ago, but in this moment, those feelings swelled until he thought he would burst into tears. He squeezed Essek’s hand. Essek squeezed back.

And the words finally found their way from Caleb’s heart, and out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Essek tore his eyes from the papers, softening as he met Caleb’s gaze. “I love you, too, Caleb.”

Of course, the curse of a mind as keen as Caleb’s was the ability to have too many thoughts at once. He loved Essek. Essek loved him (Caleb had already known that, but it was beautiful to hear out loud). Caleb was human. Essek was an elf. Caleb probably had sixty years left to live, if he was lucky. Essek would likely live another six hundred or more, if he was careful. Essek was on the run from the Dynasty. Caleb had to return home, at least periodically, to root out corruption and make it the place he had once believed it to be. So many factors. So many barriers.

He wanted what time he could have with Essek, but it would be cruel to entangle him when Caleb’s lifespan was barely a speck of dust in the winds of time, when there were so many things they would have to do apart even before Caleb would succumb to his mortality. Caleb had hurt the people he loved too much already.

Essek’s free hand slid up Caleb’s neck and into his hair, cradling the base of his skull. “Your eyes are sad again, my love.”

“This will hurt you,” Caleb said, “in the end.”

“I know.” And it was Essek who pressed their foreheads together this time. “I will cherish the time we have together, and whatever comes after that. It is… rare for me to feel this way about anyone. I will not give you up so easily, even if I know it will end. I am who I am today because of you, and I will carry you with me long after you are gone.”

Caleb had tried to keep people at arm’s-length before, just as Essek had. But he felt emotions deeply, especially love, and it went against his nature to deny the love he felt. And Essek was the love of his life. It would hurt in the end, but they still had time. Decades, if they were lucky.

Essek and Caleb knew a thing or two about pulling luck in their favour.

The moment stretched beyond words. Caleb reached up to kiss Essek’s forehead. They were both reserved people, not given to grand gestures. It was not necessary. Their love bled into everything they did together, in dressing each other’s wounds, in defending each other in battle, and in their quiet moments--the shared silences, the passing of research materials, the touch of soot-stained fingers.

They were what they were to each other, in the time they had together. The joy would one day turn to sorrow, but, for now, they had this.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Anon said: tried to read through all your request rules, but I didnt specifically see which Characters you write for. If you do, could you write for Porco helping his S/o sleep? I have super bad insomnia most days, and I just really want something fluffy with Porco...just cuddles or stories or something. If you dont write for Porco though could you switch it with a AoT character you do write for, I'm not really picky. Thank you so much in advance! 🥺💗

Porco helping you sleep

{Porco x reader | tw:none | sleep help, fluff | canon }

{ "The Night School" C.1660-C.1665 By Gerrit Dou 1613-1675 }

Unmoving shadows cast into the empty white walls, slightly flickering with the flame on the white candle sitting on the nightstand. Half lidded eyes observe their small movements for they're the only interesting thing in this empty hotel room you've been assigned. 

Your beige uniform tucked into the small closest with a single hanger inside, the armband hanging on the closest door for easy reach. The squeak of the spring mattress chirping up whenever you moved to flip your too stiff pillow. 

Judging by the amount of melted wax collecting on the bottom of the candle, you've been awake for far too long. 

This isn't the first time this has happened, you're used to getting acquainted with the room's walls and shadowy furniture.

Sleep has abandoned you long ago, its friend insomnia visiting you daily instead. Only leaving every week or so to remind you of what you could never have, taunting almost.

You've tried to force yourself to sleep really, did every known trick in the book, you even tried mediation like Zeke has been preaching to you about, but to no avail. so you've started making peace with the thing, you know at least using the night time to get things done since you're not getting rest either way.

Books were your first friend, for staring at the walls could only be entertaining for so long, but now with your stash of books miles away back home, you're left with nothing else to do.

The nightstand drawer only contained an emergency gun with several bullets inside, and the pocket knife under your pillow wasn't interesting enough.

Getting up from the bed, you picked up the candle before slowly inching the creaky door open. Maybe a glass of water could help, who cares that this is your third time going for water in the last hour? Well hydration is important after all, or so you tried to bargain for an excuse to stretch your legs.

Attempting your best to glide through the old wooden boards without as much as a squeak, you headed towards the kitchen, passing through several other bedrooms in the process, probably all deep in dream land already.

Everything was too quiet, the sound of water filling the glass was the only thing interrupting the silence, its cool feeling going down your dry throat helped you a bit.

Drinking down what you can, you decided to take the rest with you back, a good excuse for a trip to the bathroom later. Although as you turned, a figure was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and staring at you.

"Isn't it too early for breakfast?" Porco said, covering his mouth with his hand as he yawned, "you should get some rest while you can, we're getting thrown in the front trenches tomorrow." 

Just the mention of it made your stomach roll at the thought of staying in a muddy hole for days, the smell of gunpowder and yelling of soldiers, not to mention the crowded train rides back home.

"I know, it's just…" you stared at the water moving inside your glass while tilting it, "one of those days, you know?" 

eyes narrowing with his eyebrows pulling down in concentration, even Porco's sleep clouded mind could recognise the heavy bags under your eyes. The ride here used all of your energy and now you're too tired to even sleep.

Feeling an unpleasant weight on his chest, he wasn't sure what to say as he approached you, awkwardly leaning against the sink, a heavy sigh left him.

"You know, you should bother me more often, I don't mind it." His gentle tone was followed by a melancholic smile, "let's just...go to bed."

With that his hand wrapped around your wrist, loosely at first like he was reluctant about it, before it got more secure once you didn't pull away.

…

The old door gave out a creek as it closed behind you, the room dimmer than you left it with the candle you're carrying almost burning out. 

Looking at the small bed with a single pillow, you wondered how the two grown people would fit in it and judging by the frustrated look Porco was eyeing it with, he must be thinking the same.

Looking at him, your mind wondered back to all the battles you've fought together. For some reason the superiors always seemed more strick and harsh with him, especially after the paradise mission was launched.

Belitting and nagging, carelessly throwing him in risky situations.

Your grip tightened around the water glass, feeling growing thickness in your throat. "Hey...it's okay you can go to your room, you need sleep." You said moving past him to sit on the bed, "I'll be fine."

"Should've thought of that before waking me up, now scoot over." He said, rising an eyebrow and stepping closer.

"I didn't wake you up, you're just a light sleeper." Laying down, you stretched your limbs filling the bed, "there's no room, it won't fit."

Silence filled the room for a while, you could feel his eyes roaming over you, "Oh really? Well…"

One second, you were laying on the mattress while staring at his stubborn expression in confusion, the next a pair of arms was lifting you up as he stole your place before dropping you on him. His arm circled your waist not trusting that you won't pull away

"I made it fit." he looked at you with smugness in his eyes

His warm skin felt comforting against yours, contrasting with the cold room air, you could hear his slowing heartbeat with being so close to his chest, your legs slowly tangling to fit under the blanket covering you.

Apparently that's as far as his genius plan went, because after that an awkward silence filled the room.

"So...you made it fit huh?" You couldn't help but say, a grin slowly spreading on your face. 

Porco blinked in response, tilting his head, before his eyes stilled as his ears flushed. "Fucking god, you're such a-" his attempt to scold you was interrupted by a chuckle escaping mid-sentence.

Having a contagious laugh, soon enough you too joined him.

After it died down, the atmosphere was replaced by a much more relaxed one as his hold on you softened, more intimate than the previous one. 

"When I was a kid, i used to have trouble sleeping- well more like i was too stubborn to fall asleep." Porco said, trailing his finger up your back soothingly, "and since Marcel was stuck sharing a room with me, he'd tell me stories to get me to fall asleep."

"What kind of stories?" 

"...if you tell this to anyone I'm reporting you to the higher ups you for treason, they were flower stories." Clearing his throat, you could feel his heartbeat rising under you, 

Closely watching your reaction, Porco continued after some seconds. "now I'm not calling you a kid nor do i think it's as simple, i just think...we should give it a chance." 

With the heaviness of the blanket above you and warmth of his body underneath you, it was hard to refuse his request, especially with the way he looked at you so earnestly. 

You agreed, and felt his other hand reach to pull up the blanket more, tucking you protectively between his body and the soft fabric. 

"This first one is called...well i don't remember what names Marcel gave them, but it's about poppies."

Crimson red bringers of eternal sleep, their crumbled petals and dark centers often found in the ancient tombs of soldiers.

As the mother of nature, Demeter, mourned and grieved from the betrayal of Zeus, it wasn't only the mortal realm in which death loomed at every corner, for her own mind was a tormenting prison of never ending suffering.

And so a droplet of her blood sprang and flourished to create a six petaled flower, easing her heartache if only for a moment as the poppy put her to sleep, numbing the pain.

Following in her trail was a red carpet of poppies, soon enough death and sleep themselves wore the flower, red crowns resting on top of Thanatos's held up head and one almost slipping from Hypnosi's leaning one as he dozed off. for eternal sleep was only another name for visiting the underworld. 

A symbol of peace in resting and condolence for the loss of a loved one, became the poppy's role. 

"This is why you'd often see them in people's front pockets whenever we return home." Porco said, the light slowly vanishing from the room as the candle burned itself out, the flame snuffed.

You've never questioned why a delivery of poppies would always be on the requirements in each returning celebration, it's just always been there. 

Slow and easy breathes flew through you, lazily stretching your arms up till it met something soft. Porco seemed to tense as your fingers loosely combed through his hair, leaning into the touch after a while.

"Don't stop." He murmured, sleep clear in his voice as another yawn left him.

"Do you have any other stories?" Drowsiness sweeping through your mind, you buried your hed deeper against his neck, eyelids fluttering shut.

"Yeah just…" his hand stilled from behind you as he looked into space attempting to recall a memory, soon enough the soft stroking returned. "This one is about peony."

Named after none other than Paeon himself, these flowers lived up to their reputation of healing and honour, for they have their own story to tell.

How the peony came to be declared king of flowers.

During the Tang dynasty, empress Wu Zetian strolled through her garden. Frowning at the empty field of green covered in thick white blankets of snow, the harsh season not showing mercy for the plants.

With a new goal in mind to flip this dreadful looking graveyard of a garden, she set to defy nature for she is the ruler of the land and her word is law.

Per her majesty's order, all flowers shall bloom in the midst of winter's visit.

As the word travelled far, all the fairies in the land couldn't believe their ears, how could such delicate fragile petals grow amidst the storm and snow. For flowers only bloom in spring, how could we go against mother nature?

While merciless mother nature was cruel, she couldn't compare for the empress's strong rule. For the fairies feared for their wings as their knees shook in her presence.

When the sun shined again, it welcomed colourful fields of different flowers in full bloom. The empress was pleased with their sweet smell and proud colours, each one rivaling the other.

And yet, she stood still near one flower bed, eyes wide. The peony deified her words and stubbornly refused to open, only sticks and brittle leaves left in their place.

In a fit of rage, the empress banished the flower to a far away city, striping away their status.

Living up to their stubborn nature, the peony bloomed that spring the most beautiful flowers humans have ever seen, turning the city of Luoyang into a heavenly soft land as their petals danced through the wind.

But their beauty couldn't last long, for a hungry fire swallowed them all, under the order of the empress who turned their green to coal.

And yet to everyone's surprise, when the earth circled the sun again, the peonies were back in bloom. Springing from the ashes were their mesmerising big petals and soft colours. 

In their respect, the fairies crowned them for their bravery as the ruler of the flowers, for wasn't it for their sacrifice the flowers wouldn't have been freed.

"They stayed on the right way, even if it meant going against the world." Porco's slurred words were half muffled against the pillow, head buried in it, his eyelids seemed to get too heavy for him to force them open again.

Turning his head to the side, you felt his lips press a light kiss against your forehead before whispering a goodnight, his hold still comfortably secure around you as if you might slip away. 

Soon enough, you too drifted into sleep as only his soft snoring filled the room. The moon watching over both of you through the windows as her light barely reached inside. 

And at this instant, you didn't think there was anywhere else in the world you'd rather be. Thoughts of what the future holds were pushed to the back of your mind next to the past, for the present is now and what a waste it would be not to bask in these rare moments of peace in this horrible world