#it seemed they had personal reasons for calling them that

[essektheylyss]

I love that Caleb does not ever seem to take opportunities to take any kind of "this might be the last moment I have" actions. No matter what, when everyone else is going around and making their desperate moves, Caleb doesn't. Even after he recommends otherwise to others, it is notable that he among the group doesn't do so, and this is consistent with his previous behavior.

I like to think that stems from the moment he opted against trying to work with Trent—which I think, at its core, was an attempt at such an action. If Caleb had died fighting the Somnovem, he had every reason to believe that Trent would continue in his actions. Though Astrid and Eadwulf were willing to subtly undermine him, they had made it clear that they were not willing to challenge him outright. Caleb tells the Nein, when they are discussing their last wishes at the Blooming Grove before returning to Eiselcross, that he would appreciate Trent being eliminated in the event of his death. I have to believe that there was a fear or regret that his dearest motivations would not come to fruition which spurred his interest in using an alliance with him in Aeor to trap and kill him.

I've mentioned elsewhere that I believe Essek's willingness to disagree with him was one of the factors in Caleb being able to trust him and his judgment, but I would also argue it was a wake-up call for Caleb—about letting himself be distracted; about not focusing in on the mission at hand; about, potentially, expecting failure in this goal, especially after he has watched his friends say their goodbyes as if they too expect to die. "Stay on task, Widogast," is a mantra he uses in Vergessen, but he does get caught up, to an extent, in enacting as much damage as he can to the place in the process, and regardless of whether this ruthless assault slowed or sped their discovery, Trent did catch up to them, and very nearly caught Veth and Jester as well as himself. Given Caleb's fears throughout the campaign that he will draw the danger that dogs him onto his newfound friends, and his later apology to Essek in the same conversation for drawing Trent's attention to him, it is not a stretch to argue that this is yet another guilt he shoulders.

It isn't lost on me that Caleb almost died before the Nein even met, he was perpetually aware of his fragility among the group, and he was the last member of the Nein to go down and need to be revived. So I just think it's very fun if he, who so often seemed to be on the verge of death, who in fact planned to step back in history and in the process erase the person he had become, found himself at some point determined to live, and firmly confident in his ability to do so.

He does not wrap up his affairs, he does not say goodbyes, and while he may acknowledge the stakes for the group, he does not entertain the idea that he personally will not make it out alive—because, as Dorian notes, he has a lot to live for. He has to get back home to his partner and his well-maintained garden; he has to make sure the Cerberus Assembly's nefarious schemes do not continue in Ludinus's absence, perhaps even in the absence of the Assembly itself, depending on what its members do in its wake; he probably has to go egg on his godson's shenanigans as payback for Veth threatening to shoot him out of the sky.

Caleb Widogast is an absolute cockroach of a wizard, and, in true Mighty Nein form, he is at all times thriving on unfinished business.

[cielie-voss]

The guinea pig whisperer

Eddie Munson x fem!reader (and her guinea pigs)

Summary: When your family needs your help, you turn to your best friend Eddie Munson to take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Couldn't be that difficult, right?

Warnings: use of y/n, but other than that none I think

Wordcount: 4.4k

Taglist: @violettsoul @evileyeandthecattywhumps

Masterlist

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

“Okay, guys, we’ve got this,” Eddie said softly as he knelt down, trying to convince himself as much as the little creatures in front of him.

“We totally got this.”

Who was he kidding? He totally didn’t have this. What had possessed him to agree to this quest?

As the little furballs scurried back into their houses, teeth chattering in disapproval of the strange guy invading their space, Eddie leaned back against the rustling beanbag and sighed.

Eddie loved animals—really, he did. Sometimes, he even loved them more than people. But most animals didn’t seem to love him back. He was usually too loud, too hectic, too fidgety, and he ended up scaring them away.

“Come on, I’m not a bad guy,” he tried to convince the crested guinea pig that was cautiously sticking its nose out of the door, sniffling and clearly unimpressed with Eddie's presence.

“Hey, it’s not my fault, okay? You’re the one who needs special care. I’m just doing what I’ve been told,” Eddie said, as if reasoning with the little ball of fur would somehow help. Did the guinea pig even understand him? Probably not—it’s just a guinea pig. Guinea pigs couldn’t understand humans, right?

When you had asked him to take care of your guinea pigs for a few days while you were out of town, he figured it wouldn’t be that hard. Feed them a couple of times a day, refill their water bottle—how complicated could it be?

But, oh boy, was he wrong.

You were the most generous person he’d ever met, always caring for every creature that crossed your path. For as long as he’d known you, you’d always had special needs animals in your care. Abandoned rabbits, blind cats, deaf dogs, birds with deformed wings, abused animals—you always tried to give these innocent souls a place of refuge.

The other day, you got a call from your family, needing your help with your grandma’s funeral. In a panic, you reached out to Eddie, asking if he could take care of your beloved guinea pigs. Knowing Eddie’s kind nature and willingness to help, you entrusted him with the responsibility of looking after Elvis and the other guinea pigs in your absence.

Who could possibly refuse such a request?

Certainly not Eddie.

Before you left, you handed him a list of instructions on how to take care of the guinea pigs, especially Elvis, your oldest guinea pig who needed special attention due to his dental issues.

Veggies cut in thin slices.

He eats pretty slowly, so make sure the others don’t steal his food.

Make sure nothing gets stuck where his teeth are growing back.

Nothing complicated, right? But he hadn’t expected Elvis to be such a diva. When you led him into the living room, where the huge guinea pig cage took up half the space, the other guinea pigs had excitedly approached the glass pane enclosing the cage. But Elvis stayed at the back, laying majestically in his snuggle sack, eyeing Eddie warily, clearly unimpressed by his presence.

As soon as you left and Eddie tried to introduce himself, Elvis sprinted into one of the wooden houses, out of Eddie’s reach. Realizing this task might be more complicated than he’d thought, Eddie sat down and observed the guinea pigs for a while. Maybe they just needed to get used to his presence? Maybe they were just shy and needed to see that he wasn’t a threat?

He glanced at the list you gave him: Treats are in the drawer next to the cage.

Treats sounded like a good idea. He grabbed a handful of pea flakes and tried to lure the guinea pigs out, carefully whispering reassuring words to them as if they could understand him.

Bit by bit, the first noses peeked out of the houses, sniffing the delicious treats in his hand. But it took some more time before the first guinea pig dared to approach Eddie, sneaking up to him cautiously. Excited, Eddie held his breath, freezing like a statue so as not to scare the fragile, timid creature. Just as he was struggling to hold his breath any longer, the guinea pig grabbed one of the flakes and, with its head held high, ran back into one of the houses.

He knew he had to be patient to gain their trust, but no matter what he tried, Elvis wouldn’t come out, making the task nearly impossible.

The rest of the day, Eddie spent in the living room, switching between the couch and the bean bag next to the cage. Whenever he moved around, he made sure to be as quiet as possible. Sitting still was something Eddie wasn’t really good at—he was always fidgeting with anything he could get his hands on.

After a while, he decided to read something to them. Maybe the sound of his voice would help the piggies get used to him? At least it would help him stay still. He figured it didn’t matter what he read aloud, so he inspected the small bookshelf in the corner of the room.

“Romeo and Juliet?” He glanced over his shoulder, searching for approval.

“No, maybe… What about Dracula? No, that’s probably too scary for you guys.” His eyes scanned the other titles. “Red Dragon? No, not appropriate. The Shining? Or maybe Carrie?” He furrowed his brows as he picked up one of the books and turned it around to read the blurb.

“Goddamn, these are some pretty bloody and violent books for such a gentle girl,” he muttered, surprised by your choice in literature. He put Cujo back on the shelf before finding Howl’s Moving Castle.

That might do the trick.

To lure the piggies out of their houses, he placed a bowl of thinly sliced vegetables in the middle of the cage and sat down on the bean bag, reading to them in a soft voice. But still, Elvis remained stubborn, refusing to come out of his house.

“Damn, you really are one headstrong little guy, huh?” Eddie peeked through the entrance of Elvis’s hiding place. “I won’t hurt you. I just wanna make sure you get enough food.”

They locked eyes in a silent standoff—two stubborn souls, neither willing to give in. Eddie cocked his head, looking at Elvis with pleading puppy eyes.

“Come on, dude. Do it for Y/N,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice, as he held out his hand, offering some pea flakes. But Elvis simply turned his back on Eddie. Groaning, Eddie leaned back into the bean bag. How was he supposed to take care of this little guy?

The next couple of hours were a trial of patience for Eddie. Bit by bit the other guinea pigs started to become comfortable around Eddie - accepting the neatly cut veggie strips he offered them in an attempt to gain their trust. They even let him touch them and ate right out of his hand after some time. But Elvis? Hell no. There was no sign he started to trust Eddie. No matter what Eddie tried - pea flakes, grapes, cucumber or even blueberries - Elvis wouldn’t even look at him.

Slowly Eddie became frustrated, even anxiously because Elvis simply wouldn’t eat anything other than hay. After countless rejections Eddie searched through your kitchen, not actually knowing what he was looking for. He let out a sigh, his fingers running through his hair, about to give up, when finally he found a big bush of parsley taking up the space of the kitchen's windowsill. “Okay, one last try” he declared and gently picked a few twigs.

With the parsley in hand Eddie sat down on the bean bag again. “Hopefully this’ll work” he said before he tried to lure Elvis out of his hiding place. And miraculously it was working. Slowly Elvis’ nose peeked out of the little plushy tunnel he was hiding in. And it didn’t take long before, paw after paw, he followed the smell of the parsley in Eddie's hand.

“So you’re just like everyone else,” Eddie stated, grinning like an idiot, “Everyone is corruptible, even a guinea pig like you.” Relieved Eddie watched the little guy munch on that parsley. The little triumph filled Eddie with so much pride, he was convinced that there was nothing stopping him from successfully completing this quest. Even though Elvis was still on high alert, inspecting Eddie attentively and freezing every now and then when Eddie dared to move ever so slightly, it was another small step in the right direction, another piece of the puzzle that was earning the trust of these tiny creatures—Elvis, most of all.

Every morning, he would sit by the cage, reading softly from Howl’s Moving Castle, carefully offering treats, and speaking in his gentlest tone. The other guinea pigs had started to warm up to him, now eagerly gathering around whenever they saw or heard him coming. But Elvis remained stubborn, only occasionally poking his nose out to observe the others before retreating back into his hideaway.

Eddie found himself growing more and more determined. There was something about the challenge that made him even more committed to winning Elvis’s trust. Maybe it was because you had entrusted him with such an important task, or maybe it was because he recognized a kindred spirit in the little guy—a fellow outcast, wary of letting others in.

On the third day, a breakthrough happened. Eddie was lying on the floor next to the cage, chin resting on his hands, his voice low and soothing as he read another chapter. He hadn’t noticed at first, but slowly, ever so slowly, Elvis began to inch closer to the entrance of his wooden house. Eddie kept reading, trying not to make any sudden movements. After what felt like an eternity, Elvis crept out just enough to sniff the air, his tiny whiskers twitching.

Eddie’s heart raced. He didn’t move, barely even breathed, as Elvis cautiously approached the bowl of veggies. The little guy sniffed around, eyes constantly flicking up to keep Eddie in sight. But eventually, he started to nibble on a piece of lettuce, his guard seemingly lowered. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling a surge of triumph. Maybe, just maybe, they were slowly starting to understand each other.

But getting Elvis to eat in his presence was one thing; getting him to trust Eddie enough to be touched was another. Every time Eddie tried to reach out, Elvis would dart back into his house, and they would be back to square one. Frustration gnawed at Eddie, but he refused to give up. He tried everything he could think of—different treats, talking to Elvis in even softer tones, staying as still as a statue whenever the guinea pig ventured out. But nothing seemed to work.

One afternoon, after another failed attempt to coax Elvis out, Eddie slumped onto the couch, feeling defeated. He had a sprig of parsley in his hand, the latest in his arsenal of treats, but Elvis wasn’t biting—literally or figuratively. Eddie absentmindedly twirled the parsley between his fingers, thinking about what he might be doing wrong. Then, a thought struck him. He remembered how you had once mentioned that animals, especially small ones like guinea pigs, relied heavily on scent. Maybe Elvis was so attached to you because he associated your scent with safety.

Eddie searched through your apartment until he found a little cupboard in the bathroom, filled with makeup, different sorts of hairspray and a few little flacons of perfume. He stared at it for a moment, the idea forming in his mind. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? But then again, everything else had failed. What did he have to lose?

With a determined sigh, Eddie grabbed the bottle and spritzed a small amount on his hoodie. The familiar scent filled the air, a mix of something floral and earthy, like freshly cut grass. He couldn’t help but smile a little—this was so absurd it just might work.

Feeling a bit silly, but hopeful, Eddie returned to the cage. He gently placed the parsley in front of Elvis’s hideaway and then sat back, waiting. Eventually, Elvis emerged, sniffing the air as usual. But this time, something was different. His tiny nose twitched more rapidly, almost excited, and he stepped out a little farther than usual, his gaze fixed on Eddie. The guinea pig’s hesitation seemed to lessen, and to Eddie’s astonishment, Elvis slowly made his way over to him, stopping just short of where Eddie’s hand rested on the floor.

Eddie’s heart pounded as Elvis sniffed at his hand, clearly intrigued by the scent. He stayed perfectly still, allowing the little creature to take his time. Finally, with what seemed like a deep breath of resolve, Elvis nudged the parsley with his nose and then—almost miraculously���climbed into Eddie’s lap. Eddie was so shocked he barely dared to move. But Elvis, after a moment of careful observation, seemed to decide that this strange new version of Eddie was okay, settling down on his lap.

Eddie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Gently, he raised a hand and started to stroke Elvis’s soft fur. This time, the guinea pig didn’t flinch or run. Instead, he let out a tiny, contented squeak, closing his eyes and stretching out his legs as Eddie continued to pet him. Eddie grinned like a fool, feeling like he’d just won the lottery.

Eddie had settled into a routine with the guinea pigs over the next couple of days. He'd spend his mornings preparing their veggies, carefully slicing them just the way you had shown him, then patiently coaxing Elvis out of his hideaway with a mix of treats, soft words and the scent of your perfume. Though Elvis had finally started to warm up to him, Eddie still found himself with plenty of downtime as the guinea pigs quietly went about their business.

That afternoon, as the guinea pigs dozed off after their midday snack, Eddie found himself drawn to his guitar, which he had brought along just in case he needed something to pass the time. He hadn’t played much since he’d been focused on the guinea pigs, but the itch to strum a few chords was starting to get to him. So, he grabbed his guitar and lay down on the floor, fingers absentmindedly picking at the strings.

He started with something soft, just a few random chords, not really thinking about what he was playing. The sound of the guitar strings filled the room, blending with the soft rustle of hay from the guinea pig cage. Eddie smiled to himself, feeling the familiar comfort of the guitar beneath his fingers.

But as he relaxed into the music, his fingers instinctively drifted into a familiar riff—Metallica's "For Whom the Bell Tolls." The heavy, thrumming notes reverberated through the room, and Eddie couldn’t help but get into it, his fingers moving more confidently across the strings as he lost himself in the music.

He was just starting to really enjoy himself when he noticed something strange. The peaceful quiet of the room had been interrupted by a series of sharp, disapproving clicks. Eddie paused mid-riff and looked over at the cage, where all five guinea pigs were wide awake, teeth chattering in what could only be described as intense disapproval.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his fingers hovering above the strings. "Seriously, guys?" he muttered, half-amused, half-offended. He plucked another string experimentally, and the chattering grew louder, the guinea pigs shifting restlessly in their cage.

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "What, you don’t like Metallica? I thought you guys had better taste than that." But the guinea pigs weren’t having it—every time he strummed a chord, their chatter became more insistent, as if they were staging a tiny, furry protest.

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright, I get it. No Metallica,” he conceded, setting his guitar aside with a grin. “Guess you’re more into the easy-listening stuff, huh?” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Can’t believe I’m getting critiqued by a bunch of guinea pigs,” he muttered to himself, a smile still tugging at his lips.

The room fell back into a peaceful silence, the guinea pigs settling down once more as Eddie let the moment wash over him. He was still smiling, even as he turned his thoughts back to the challenge of getting Elvis to trust him completely.

A few minutes later, he picked up his guitar again, but this time, instead of metal, he gently strummed a softer melody—something calm and soothing, more to the guinea pigs' taste. The chatter subsided, and Eddie felt a small sense of victory as he noticed them relaxing again.

As the days passed, Elvis began to venture closer and closer to Eddie. The once hesitant little guinea pig now seemed less afraid of the strange man who had taken over his home. Eddie noticed the subtle changes—how Elvis would come out of his hiding spot more often, how he’d eat his veggies with less hesitation, and how he’d sometimes watch Eddie with what looked like growing curiosity.

One afternoon, after hours of reading aloud and playing soft melodies on his guitar, Eddie felt the weight of the day catching up to him. The warm afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. The rhythmic sounds of the guinea pigs munching on their food, coupled with the cozy warmth of the bean bag, lulled Eddie into a sleepy daze.

Before he knew it, he had dozed off, his head resting against the back of the bean bag, his breathing slow and steady.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, Elvis had also grown sleepy. The little guinea pig had gradually moved closer to the side of the cage nearest Eddie, his tiny body finally relaxing as he curled up in a pile of hay. For the first time since you had left, Elvis drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, feeling safe with Eddie nearby.

About an hour later, Eddie stirred awake. His neck ached slightly from the angle he’d been sleeping in, but as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the nap had been surprisingly refreshing. He turned to check on the guinea pigs, expecting to see them scurrying around or nibbling on some hay.

But then he noticed Elvis, who was still lying in the same spot, completely still. Eddie’s smile faded as a pang of worry shot through him. He leaned closer to the cage, his heart starting to race. Elvis wasn’t moving at all.

“Elvis?” Eddie called softly, tapping the side of the cage. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

There was no response. No twitch of the nose, no flutter of the ears—nothing. Eddie’s mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario. Was Elvis…? No, he couldn’t be. But the stillness, the lack of movement, made Eddie’s stomach twist in fear.

Panic set in as Eddie quickly reached out to gently pet Elvis’ white crest, his hands trembling. “Elvis, come on, don’t do this to me,” he murmured, trying to nudge the guinea pig gently. But Elvis remained motionless, his tiny body limp and unresponsive.

“Oh god,” Eddie breathed, his voice tinged with desperation. “Y/N’s gonna kill me. I’m so sorry, Elvis, I didn’t—”

He froze mid-sentence, his brain scrambling for a solution. Maybe Elvis was just in a deep sleep, right? Maybe he just needed a little incentive to wake up. Eddie’s eyes darted around the room, searching for something—anything—that might help.

Then he remembered the parsley. Seemingly Elvis’ favorite thing to snack.

Practically diving for the drawer, Eddie grabbed a sprig of parsley, his hands shaking as he brought it up to Elvis’s nose. “Come on, little guy,” Eddie begged, holding his breath and praying to whatever god might hear him right now. “I know you love this stuff. Just wake up, please.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Eddie’s heart pounded in his chest, and he was on the verge of full-blown panic. But then, just as he was about to lose hope, Elvis’s nose twitched. It was barely noticeable at first, but Eddie’s sharp eyes caught it. Then, slowly, Elvis’s whiskers twitched, and he took a long, deep sniff of the parsley.

Eddie nearly sagged with relief. “Oh, thank God,” he muttered, watching as Elvis’s eyes fluttered open, the guinea pig groggily lifting his head to nibble on the parsley. The sight of Elvis happily munching away, casually as if nothing happened, made Eddie laugh out loud, though his laughter was shaky with the remnants of his panic.

"You scared the hell out of me, you little rascal,” Eddie said, his voice filled with both amusement and lingering relief. He gently stroked Elvis’s fur as the guinea pig chewed contentedly, seemingly unaware of the scare he’d just given Eddie.

Eddie sat back on the bean bag, his heart rate gradually returning to normal as he watched Elvis eat. The little guy had just been in a deep sleep, completely comfortable in Eddie’s presence. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride—Elvis finally trusted him enough to sleep so soundly, something that seemed impossible just days ago.

Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he teased, though his tone was affectionate. “But hey, at least I know how to wake you up now.”

For the rest of the day, Elvis stayed close to Eddie, either nestled in his hoodie or perched on his chest as Eddie lay on the couch. They watched TV together, with Eddie flipping through channels until he found an old movie that wouldn’t be too loud or scary.

When you returned that evening, the first thing you noticed was the unusual stillness in your living room. Expecting the usual rustling of hay and the soft chattering of your guinea pigs, you tiptoed in, not wanting to disturb whatever was happening. As you rounded the corner, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks, your heart melting instantly.

Eddie Munson, the chaotic, metal-as-fuck guy you knew, was stretched out on your couch, his wild curls splayed out on the cushion, with Elvis nestled snugly inside his hoodie, just below his chin. The two of them were watching some cheesy sitcom, but it was clear they were both on the verge of dozing off. Elvis looked completely at ease, his tiny nose twitching as he snuggled deeper into Eddie’s hoodie.

You had to stifle a giggle, half from the absurdity of the scene and half from the warmth it brought to your chest. You almost didn’t want to disturb them, but curiosity got the better of you. “How the hell did you do that?” you whispered, eyes wide with amazement. Elvis had always been so fixated on you, never letting anyone else get near him, let alone cuddle up like that. Not even your closest friends or family had managed to gain his trust like this.

Eddie stirred at the sound of your voice, blinking groggily as he turned his head to look at you. A slow, sleepy grin spread across his face when he saw the look of disbelief on yours. He glanced down at Elvis, who remained contentedly curled up, his little body rising and falling with Eddie’s steady breaths. “Oh, this?” Eddie said with a playful smirk, his voice still heavy with sleep. “I found out he’s a sucker for parsley. And, well… your perfume.”

Your eyes widened as you stepped closer, leaning in to catch the familiar scent lingering on Eddie’s hoodie. Sure enough, there it was - your perfume, the one you always wore. The realization hit you like a warm wave, making your heart flutter. “You’re wearing my perfume?” you asked, half amused, half touched by the gesture.

Eddie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “What can I say? Figured if I couldn’t be you, I could at least smell like you. Gotta say, I think it’s working. Might have to start wearing this stuff all the time, I think it suits me, don’t you?” He winked, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously charming,” he teased, raising an eyebrow as if daring you to disagree. “I mean, it worked, didn’t it? This little guy’s all about the Munson charm now.” He gently stroked Elvis’s fur with the back of his finger, the guinea pig letting out a contented little purr in response.

“Looks like he’s not the only one,” you muttered under your breath, though a smile tugged at your lips as you said it.

Eddie’s grin widened as he caught your words, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Is that so?” he drawled, his tone light but his gaze warm.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the flutter in your stomach. “Maybe,” you replied, your voice just above a whisper.

For a moment, the room was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of the sitcom. You gently draped a blanket over Eddie and Elvis, who both looked completely content in their shared little cocoon. The sight of Eddie, usually so loud and full of energy, lying there with your favorite guinea pig snuggled up against him, melted away any lingering doubts you had about him.

“Thanks for taking care of them,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the blanket for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Anytime,” Eddie replied. “I kinda get it now. Why you’re so into these little guys. Elvis is pretty cool once you get past the whole ‘tiny ball of anxiety’ thing.” His voice was sincere, though the playful glint in his eye remained. “But just so you know, I’m expecting a bonus for going above and beyond the call of duty here.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what kind of bonus are we talking about?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly as he looked up at you. “How about dinner? You know, as a thank you. And maybe you could tell me more about this perfume - I’m thinking of making it my signature scent.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Dinner, huh? I suppose I owe you that much.”

Eddie’s smile softened, his teasing fading into something more genuine. “You don’t owe me anything,” he said quietly, “but I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. And Elvis, of course. We make a pretty good team.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and as you looked down at the two of them, the warmth in your chest spread until it felt like you might burst. Maybe there was something special here - something you hadn’t expected to find.

“Well,” you said, your voice soft, “I guess dinner it is.”

xxx

I wrote this just for myself because I miss my little diva so so much. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. The picture above is one of my favorites, Elvis in his favorite blanket, sleeping on my hand.

[akanemnon]

Since you confirmed that it is possible to open a Dark Fountain and, consequently, create a Dark World in the Underground (but only after the connection between the two worlds has been established), I have some doubts:

1) If someone opened a Dark Fountain (and, therefore, created a Dark World) in Asgore's house, would the resulting Dark World be similar to the Evergreen Empire? My personal theory is that Asgore's house in Undertale is some sort of counterpart to Asgore's shop in Deltarune (just as UT!Toriel's house in the Ruins seems to correspond to DR!Toriel's house in Hometown). For this reason, it would make sense if the two places were at least somewhat similar.

2) Following the reasoning of the first question: if (hypothetically) UT!Asgore had a wedding ring in the house (since, even in the Undertale universe, he and Toriel are divorced), when this new Dark World is created, could a version of Lesslo from Undertale appear?

And if so, would this version be similar or identical to the canon Lesslo? (In my opinion, considering that the canon Lesslo is already an annoying little bitch — probably because of DR!Asgore and DR!Toriel's divorce — I don't dare to imagine what a version of him would be like in the Undertale universe, where UT! Asgore and UT!Toriel had a much more traumatic divorce...)

3) And finally:

Would the six human Souls (who, if I remember correctly, in the Twin Runes canon are called Patches, Nikey, Quaver, Doodle, Sunny and Clover) become Darkners in all respects if this hypothetical Dark World were to be created? Or would they be some sort of hybrid, half Darkner and half Lightner, similar to Chara?

(Sorry for asking so many questions, but I got carried away...)

You are asking me questions that I cannot answer. Mainly because I haven't thought that deep into them. All of this is more of less fan territory. Things for fans to work with if they ever so like to.

[deusfoundry]

i've got no idea if you are writing right now but i would love myself a fem!reader x kageyama. love you xx

U KNOW WHAT NONNIE i would love myself a kageyama x reader too hehe so here u go!!

p.s. i was half asleep when i wrote this literally i was fighting to keep my eyes open so its not my best pls forgive me i tried

you remember the conversation you had with tobio so, so clearly, almost as if it was yesterday. which, you think, isn't entirely untrue considering it occurred barely two weeks ago.

tobio had outright rejected the idea of keeping your relationship a secret.

"why would i want to hide the fact that you're my girlfriend?"

and you try not to melt into a puddle over his bluntness, the way the words my girlfriend rolled off his tongue with ease. he didn't stutter. didn't trip over his words. you were his.

you cite a few reasons why he would consider it, all of which are valid in your eyes. backlash from fans. reduced sponsorships. less guest appearances on evening talk shows. factors that were valuable to his career. but he had told you, with an almost terrifying conviction, that he doesn't care. so long as he still gets to be on the court, the less-athlete and more-celebrity side of his career doesn't matter to him.

so you two agreed on a compromise. you would ease your relationship to the world, slowly letting more and more people know until it's out in the public.

and the first ones to know are the ones closest to you both. your family and his sister. your friends and his old teammates from highschool.

shoyo had been the first person he called when you agreed to be his girlfriend on one of your at-home dates. you can recall peering into your apartment's living room after a quick trip to the bathroom, watching tobio with his back hunched near the corner.

"she said yes." he whispered into his phone, and you could hear shoyo's overexcited screaming even though he's not on speaker.

next, was your boss. though workplace relationships aren't explicitly stated in your contract to be forbidden, it's highly still discouraged. in turn, you two had gotten an almost hour long lecture about policies and rules. about what this could mean for not only your careers, but for everyone else on the team as well. about the public's possible response.

and with a practiced, corporate smile, you reassured your boss that you have it all under control.

the last people in your four-part plan to find out would've been tobio's teammates and coach, before you (when you're both ready) make an announcement on all of schweiden adlers' social media accounts.

it was so easy, and tobio had agreed to follow through with it. you remember because he swore with a kiss on the edge of your lips and a shy smile that he would.

which is why you're equally dumbfounded and shocked when he announced your relationship to the public. during a post-match press conference. on live, national television.

satisfaction began to settle in halfway through the presscon. the team was doing great. they answered every question with ease, behaved as well as they could. there were moments of playful banter between the members that the fans would go crazy over. every reporter followed through the brief you gave them earlier about which questions they could and couldn't ask (heavily emphasizing no questions about kourai's height).

it was going so well.

until one of the reporters asked one particular question. it was done in good faith, you could tell by the small grin on her face and the quiet chuckles from everyone. she was playing off an inside joke from the adlers' fanbase which, to your confusion, seemed to adore you just as much as the members of the team.

"is your manager single?"

hirugami laughs, toying a bit with the microphone in his hand before he opens his mouth to answer the question in the same lighthearted nature.

except, tobio beats him to it.

"she's not."

the room falls silent. everyone, even his teammates, look at tobio with intrigue.

"r- really, kageyama-san?" she's damn near shaking, the poor lady, when she realizes tobio's eyes are on her. all bright and blue and intense.

he decides to spare her when he takes a moment to look at you, standing near the side of the stage. you're glaring daggers at him, trying to convey with your two eyes multiple warning signs in big, bold, and red letters.

please don't.

and tobio, who has grown to be perceptive when it comes to you, knows exactly what you mean. he just doesn't have it in him to care right now.

"i should know. i'm her boyfriend."

your mouth falls wide open. the only thought that runs through your mind is you two are so fucking screwed. this wasn't part of the plan you meticulously arranged and presented to your boss.

you don't know how long the silence lasts until kourai decides to break it.

"i knew it!" he says, slamming the velvet cloth covering the long panel table. the sound brings you out of your daze. "i knew something was going on between you two."

you think there's no possible way this situation can get worse, but wakatoshi nods in agreement, which brings about an onslaught of hungry reporters asking questions left and right. you take this as your cue to rush in and call off the presscon.

"is it true?"

"how long have you two been dating?"

"did kageyama-san really ask you out?"

you drown them out to the best of your abilities, ignoring the less than kind and backhanded questions directed towards you. tobio looks into your eyes as he passes by you in the line of players you're ushering off the stage, but you quickly avert your gaze.

"we'll talk later." you mouth.

after gathering their belongings from the locker room, the team piles onto the bus to head back to their home court. tobio settles into one of the seats near the back, saving the window seat for you.

he waits, watches in anticipation as you step inside the bus. you catch his pleading eyes right as you're about to take a seat in an empty row on the front.

you try to resist. really, you do. but you've never been the best at denying tobio. for more times than you care to admit had you been the subject of teasing by the team for entertaining each and every request that tobio makes.

so you sigh, before making the long walk to the back of the bus.

tobio allows you to scoot inside after helping you with shoving your backpack inside the overhead compartment. the bus springs to life right as you take your seat, engines silently roaring as it begins the trip back home.

a moment of silence passes before tobio takes your hand in his.

"i'm sorry." he says, dragging his thumb over the lines on your palm with each syllable.

"are you really?"

tobio pauses, almost contemplating. "you'd feel better if i didn't answer that."

a quiet laugh falls off your lips. of course you already knew the answer to that. tobio has always been unapologetically open about what he wants.

screw his old teammates for going with all his demands.

tobio's ministrations on your hand doesn't stop. in fact, it grows more frantic by the second. lazy movements turn into his thumb rushing back and forth against your skin. it means he wants to ask you something, and he's hoping this will silently convey his question.

"i'm not mad." in an instant, his worries are quelled. you move closer to lean your head on his shoulder. he plants his head on top of yours.

your limbs melt into each other until you're not sure where you end and tobio begins.

"but you didn't have to say that, you know. hirugami was handling it." you give him a light nudge.

"they were asking if you were single," tobio scoffs, turning his head so he can nuzzle his face against your hair. he breathes you in. your scent overtakes his senses until the only thing he knows is you. that you are his. "i think i have the right to answer that."

"god your publicist must hate you." you roll your eyes. "our boss must hate us right now too."

"don't care." he pries himself off the crown of your head, leaning down to latch his lips on your jaw.

tobio leaves one kiss, right at the very edge. you tip your head to the side so he can leave another on the flesh of your neck. he's about to plant a kiss just above your collarbone when wakatoshi chimes in from the seat in front of you.

"it's not very appropriate to make out on the bus."

you jump away from each other, cheeks flushing red now that the entire team's attention is on you. but you can't find it in you to care enough to tell them off. the hollering and the teasing matters less than the fact that you have tobio, right by your side.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 19: The Scars of Betrayal

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.8k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Tensions rise at the war camp, threatening to spill into the human kingdom.

There was a long moment of silence as the information you and Aegon fed Daeron and Helaena sunk in. It was hard to prove without the physical evidence, but you and Aegon were determined to convince them. You started from the very beginning, from your father going on his trip to Lake Rosemagne and then to the moment you had been stabbed. Aegon filled in bits and pieces, moments in the past when Cole had made suspicious and altogether horrible decisions while on the council; especially vicious and cruel ones that heightened during the Great War. 

Once finished, Daeron and Helaena were silent. They sat in their spots and glanced back and forth between the two of you as if waiting for one to confess it had all been a lie. 

“Ser Cole is a longstanding loyal member of the council and guard.” Daeron’s voice was not coated in argumentative tones; he was simply trying to reason.

“Daeron, what reason would I or Aegon have to lie about this?” You asked him. 

Daeron shrugged. “Nothing… but you have to understand I have known him for almost two millennia. He should be given the common decency of innocent until found guilty.” 

Aegon became visibly frustrated as his gaze went down to your side. While the wound was covered, it was not an easy sight to forget. His gaze seemed so harden while looking at it, deeply disturbed by the violence shown to his friend. 

“If he was so innocent, why was he the first person after Aemond who came into the laboratory? What business would he ever have on this side of the castle?” Aegon forced out as his teeth ground together. The two brothers entered a stare-off. You then glance towards Helaena who looked nearly done with their behaviour. She got out of her seat and left the curtained area. You wish she did not leave, but you understood that this was likely the last thing she wanted to witness. 

“Aegon, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. This is just…” Daeron stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed and paced a small section of the room with his arms crossed. You simply sat there, not wanting to interfere in their conversation but also growing irritable. Each second that passed was a further second that could be used to prevent the war from happening. They seemed to forget that you were human and that it was your people about to become targets. 

“It’s what, Daeron? It’s pretty damn simple. Cole’s always been a twat but-” Aegon had stepped forward to go toe to toe with his brother, but the curtain shuffled once again and Helaena entered the room. The brothers stopped their movements and turned to her. 

“The guards have been called. I am assuming you will need around twenty?” She questioned. 

“Twenty?” Daeron responded. 

“Well, if you’re going to arrest Cole, I assume he’ll resist.” Helaena shrugged and went back to where she had been sitting. Her hands reached out to the nearby table and picked up her embroidery work to begin stitching again. You were more thankful than ever for Helaena’s willingness to trust and believe you. Since that day you had helped her, she had acted like a sister. 

“We can argue about the schematics of everything later, but now we need to get him before things escalate any further,” You reasoned. Your hands gripped the blanket and shoved it off of your form as you moved to sit with your legs hanging off the edge. The movement caused you to grunt in pain, letting out sharp and quick breaths. 

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” Aegon spoke as he and Daeron moved to try and push you back into a resting position. Their hands gently pushed on your shoulders but you shrugged them off. 

You shook your head, “I’m going with you.” 

“Absolutely not!”

“No!” 

Both of them spoke at the same time. You sighed deeply. This petty squabbling was beginning to push you over the edge. Nothing mattered but stopping this war by proving to Aemond that his advisor orchestrated it all. Aemond. You were terrified about what would happen to him. 

You loved him, simply and truly. It was not something you would have admitted so openly to yourself, but your close encounter with death had you shift your priorities. That state of dreaming you had been in forced you to come to terms with it.  

You needed to get to him before things became worse. He survived the last war, but there was no guarantee he would survive this one – especially if his closest advisor was so volatile and corrupt. 

“The two of you can keep talking, but I won’t be listening. Now, will one of you help me up?” You snapped. You looked up at them with the intensity a mother would when scolding their children for being too rowdy. They shirked back at your tone and glare. 

“If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right,” Daeron spoke, “I’ll organize the retinue of knights, simple guards are not skilled enough for this.” Daeron had finally relented his position but still had an air of skepticism. 

Aegon reached out to help you stand, his hold reassuring but cautious, “I’ll join you in that.” 

“Are you sure you want to come?” Daeron asked you, “Your wound has only just started to heal and we cannot guarantee your safety should anything happen.” 

You broke from Aegon’s hold and walked to him, only near stumbling once. You stared him right in the eyes with determination, “The bastard tried to kill me. There is no way I will sit this out.” 

“Good!” Aegon interrupted and squeezed his brother's shoulder, “Haven’t had a good conflict in a few centuries.” Aegon then gripped the fabric of Daeron’s shirt and tugged him free from the room. You looked towards Helaena and the events before you became clear. The risk of this, of arresting a high-ranking member of the court – an incredibly skilled one with a longstanding reputation – was not going to be easy. 

Bone-chilling dread had sunk into your body. Your first encounter with Cole’s wrath nearly killed you and this next one was likely to be your last; you could feel it.

It was only after Aegon and Daeron had left that Helaena informed you of the full story when you had been incapacitated. To your knowledge, you had simply been stabbed. However, Helaena spoke about the knife being coated in taint. You had almost become faint at such a revelation, overcome with the feeling that you were going to die. However, you did nearly faint entirely when she said that the cure potion had worked. A few of the brews by some of the healers after you had been stabbed did not work, having gotten the process wrong. The one that Daeron made worked. He was closer than ever to your work and had understood fully the process you had outlined before Cole’s untimely attack. 

With only one pot made, it had been expressly used on you as a last resort to keep you from dying. There was not enough to give to others, but Daeron had instructed the other healers on how to brew it. It would be difficult to make in large batches, as the use of dark magic and energy draining took its toll on each elf that brewed it. As soon as the first batch was ready, they were instructed to administer it immediately to the most severe cases. 

You felt accomplished at that. All of your work, of your father's work, had succeeded. That was why, as Amara and Liriel got you dressed in elven armour for protection, you had accepted the likely possibility of this being your last day in the land of the living. Cole would not surrender without a fight and seeing you there as a walking testament to him finally being caught would be more than enough to do whatever possible to finish the job. 

Pieces of armour were attached to your body as Amara and Liriel silently worked. There was no need to speak, as the severity of the situation deeply settled on the shoulders of everyone. There was a good possibility that this would be unsuccessful. The unsettling feeling of war loomed close. Cole may have gotten what he wanted - a second chance at annihilating your kind.

You were no warrior, but the armour was purely for protection should anything go wrong.  

It was difficult to change into the new pieces that adorned you with the pain of your wound. Daeron had been correct about your fragile state. It had been a deep stab, penetrating multiple layers of your skin. Each movement, any strain, would cause scorching pain to spread out from your side. There had been a few times when Amara and Liriel had to stop for a moment. You only allowed yourself some milk of the poppy; any more and your mind would be too fuzzy. 

When you were done, you walked out of your room to see Aegon waiting for you. 

“Thank you, lovely ladies,” Aegon spoke to Amara and Liriel. His smile was strained. One part was an effort to make the situation feel lighter, the other was likely to reassure himself. 

Aegon then looked down the dimly lit hall before he stepped closer, “The castle is only minimally guarded. Go to Helaena’s apartments, it is the most secure. Should anything happen, the stationed guards will protect you both.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Amara said, “It's your lives that we’re worried about.” 

You moved forward to hug both of the elves. For you, it was a goodbye. You did not wish to tell anyone of your looming fear, for they would surely make a big deal of it. It was best to keep things as chipper as you could with the weight of war upon everyone. 

“Stay safe” Liriel whispered in your ear before releasing you from her hold. You sent them both a tight-lipped smile. Aegon began to walk down the hall and you followed closely after. 

Silence engulfed you during the walk towards the stables. Nothing but the pattering of your footsteps that echoed against the stone. You could smell the burning wood from the torches that lit up the way and you never thought you would be sad about leaving. This place had become your home. You longed to spend the rest of your days walking these halls, experiencing the parties and healing more elves. 

For the first time in your life, it felt right. Yet now, you were marching towards imminent death. 

Upon reaching the stables, you found comfort in the twenty guards that sat ready on their horses. Daeron was in front and wore elf armour like Aegon. You had never seen them in such prestigious pieces. For the first time since you came here, they truly looked like royalty. There was a set of steps next to one of the two horses that were positioned in the front by Daeron. Aegon helped you up the steps and to mount your horse. It was difficult and you wanted to pause multiple times due to the pain but chose not to. 

Your hands gripped the reins with intensity as your knuckles turned white. You sucked in short breaths, anything longer caused you to be in more pain. When both of you were ready to go, Daeron nodded his head to the elves lined up behind and called his horse to move. From what you were told, Aemond’s camp was only a few hours away from the capital. He wanted to invade at the closest border edge, which happened to be near the village you had lived in. 

The dark forest had slowly disappeared as your company got closer to the edge. The trees were younger and scraps of light filtered through the leaves. The air became warmer and beads of sweat had begun to trail down your neck. You dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe away some of the gloss that coated your skin. None of this helped the bitter fever that had taken hold as your body fought away infection from the wound. 

A camp came into view that was settled amongst the young trees. Many soldiers stood around both in and out of armour and conversed around the camp. Others were standing guard on their makeshift perimeters. Various tents and sitting spaces were erected to accommodate the rising numbers of elves coming from all corners of the kingdom. 

As your group made its way to the buzzing camp, a squad of elves marched forward to block your horses. You could see that both Daeron and Aegon took great offence to this. 

“Let us pass,” Daeron did not want to cause tensions to rise and spoke with a gentle tone. There was no reason to confront them with anger over what could very well be a misunderstanding. 

“We cannot let you in, my prince.” The guard at the front of the group spoke. He wore the typical silver armour with green and gold embellishments – the elven kingdom colours. It was plated and complex, indicating a higher rank among the other soldiers. Slick, greasy black hair hung from his head in tiny ringlets.

“And why do you refuse the orders from your prince?” Aegon questioned. 

“We have orders from the general to not let anyone in,” The elf responded. You flinched just slightly at the mention of Cole. The horse you were on sensed your unease and began to dig its hooves into the ground as it swayed from side to side. 

“Well, we outrank the general, so best move to the side,” Aegon dismissed the elf with a wave, but he remained steadfast in his position. 

“We may let both of your graces in, but the human cannot pass.” His beady eyes pierced through you and the same intensity of hate you recognized in Coles's eyes was replicated in his. 

Daeron scoffed at his words, “Where we go, she goes.” 

“Then I am afraid none of you can enter. We have strict orders.” You knew his excuse was thin. Cole had likely feared you living or any of the brothers figuring out what he had done. You were just being used as a piece on the board. If you had not been here, they might have come up with another lie to prevent Daeron and Aegon from reaching Aemond. 

“That’s bullshit,” Aegon then turned to the twenty guards behind him and they got the message to be on guard, “You will let us through, now.” At this point, numerous members of the camp stood and watched, unsure of what to do. 

“We do not wish to escalate things further. It is best that you concede.” Daeron tried to reason. 

Aegon shared a look with you. His head moved almost imperceptively to gesture onwards while mouthing ‘go.’ Your heart began to thump quickly at the implication. The horse you had been on had been growing antsy and was likely ready to sprint off any second. One, two, and three calming breaths came in and out of your body. One hand rested on your wound and knew this was going to hurt. Your other hand tightened on the reins and in a split moment, you spurred the horse on. 

It lurched forward and swept past the men. You heard shouts from behind you but were unwilling to glance back. You had no idea where Aemond’s tent may be, but you assumed it would be closer to the centre of camp. Thankfully, that intuition was correct. In little time you had skidded to a halt outside a tent that was significantly larger than the others. Other elves around had turned to look at you as you galloped near but went about their activities likely having recognized you and thought you had come simply because of your status as a healer. 

You were grateful that none interfered with you. 

Getting off the horse had been a near disaster. Each movement you made was painful and you feared your stitches would rip at any moment. You hunkered over for a moment once finally on the ground and wheezed. Steeling yourself, you moved towards the entrance flap that had been closed. You pushed it to the side and stood at the entrance. 

You looked around at the tent, cluttered with weapons, pieces of armour, and a large war table. It held a map of all the known lands and pieces were laid out strategically. You could not find a cot in your scan, instead finding a reasonably comfortable-looking chair with a blanket folded on it. If that was any indication of your beliefs, you would gather that Aemond had not slept or at the very least got little sleep. Even in such a space, you could smell Aemond’s signature scent of parchment, firewood, and spices. 

You finally zeroed in on Aemond who stood at the centre of the tent. His back was to you and you could see the armor that adorned his form. It was a contrast to his usual choice of leathers, however it suited him. All of the metal pieces, from the greaves on his calves to the pauldrons on his shoulders were coloured black with gold outlines; real gold that shined in the light that illuminated the tent. He had a long red piece of fabric that acted like a cape, strung from both sides over a single shoulder. The large broadsword he always had was strapped to his waist. 

In your not-so-humble opinion, he was a vision of phantasmal beauty; a spectre of frightensome splendor.

Aemond had likely confused you with someone else he had been expecting, too focused on adjusting the armour piece on his shoulder, “All of their lands will be burned as we move forward. For what they’ve done, reduce it all to ash.” 

It had come back to you again that he was speaking of your people, your towns, your cities that he wished to destroy. Your relief at seeing him had been knocked down with disappointment. Those flashes of memories you had seen in that trap between the living and dead came forth; you had finally understood his hate towards your kind for all the pain that had been inflicted upon him. You could truly see him now. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name in both disappointment and relief while utterly breathless. No use of ‘your grace’ or any other acknowledgement of his title – only the desperate pleading of a name. His body froze and his shoulders squared up tightly. The red cape that he had been affixing to his shoulder fell to the ground. Aemond’s head turned just slightly before his body did as well. 

There was a moment of confusion that swept across his features. He nearly took a step back, but placed his foot forward and approached you slowly. You were overwhelmed by the look in his eye. For once, the blue ocean in his eye calmed and left behind a glittering reflection of a calm sea of adoration. He approached you, unsure and scanning the length of your body as if it were a mirage. 

You wanted to speak, truly you did, but his look sucked all the air from your lungs. You had never received such an emotional face from anyone in your life. He was right in front of you then, sweeping his eye across your face. The heat that started in your stomach moved across your body and turned the skin of your cheeks a dark shade of red. 

It was hesitant, but Aemond moved his arms around your waist and pulled you into a hug. It was clear, by the awkward positioning, that he was not used to expressing such sentiment. There were likely centuries that had passed between now and the last hug he received. You responded immediately and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The armour led to a degree of separation, but you did not mind. However, his hold tightened after you reciprocated and pain bloomed from your side. 

A wince came forth from your lips and you flinched. Aemond pulled away like he, too, was hurt. Your hands went to your side, where underneath the metal plackart was your wound. You could feel the strain the stitches made on your skin. 

“I,” Aemond’s mouth opened and closed a few times, “How are you…” 

“Daeron, he’s a damn genius with stitching people back together.” You sucked in a breath as more shoots of pain rippled through your body. 

Aemond shook his head, “But the knife had taint on it.” 

You nodded at his words, “Yes but my idea worked. The cure… We did it.” Your lips wobbled. You were unsure if you were trying to smile or hold back a sob at the culmination of years of work. He moved his hands to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. 

“You did it.” His words were light and graceful, washing over you in waves. It was a stark contrast to his attitude when you first arrived. He had treated you with nothing but disregard then – no human could ever come close to the level of intellect and elves possessed. You were glad to prove him wrong. 

The reason as to why you came so hastily pushed forth in your mind, “Aemond, it was not humans that did this.” 

“What?” His thumbs stopped brushing your cheeks but his hands stayed in place. You swallowed and shook your head. It would be difficult to tell him that his closest friend was a traitor – an elf colluding with sinister means. You placed your hands over his and hoped it would help support him when you exposed his friend's transgressions.

“It was not humans that infiltrated the lab. I’m sorry, but–” The tent opening ruffled with movement. Both you and Aemond turned your heads to watch Cole enter the tent. Dread and fear gripped your body and set itself deep in your heart which had begun to beat rapidly. Aemond’s hands dropped from your face, but you remained right next to him. You wanted to shrink behind him and hide and pray that this could all go away. However, the rage that built up in you at seeing the elf that tried to kill you overcame that fear. 

“Ah,” Cole plastered on a fake smile, “It’s good to see you up and about.” 

“No thanks to you,” You sneered. 

“You seem to be delirious. All of that milk of the poppy must be messing with your mind.” Cole moved to step closer, but you flinched back. Aemond noticed that reaction and held his arm out in front of you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you sincerely. You swiped your tongue across your chapped lips. While your body faced Aemond, you were staring down Cole. There was no way you could look away from him; you would not give him an advantage over you. 

“Ask Cole.” You answered. 

Aemond looked to his friend with a questioning face, but Cole continued to brush it off, “Do not worry your grace. She is suffering from delusions, I can escort her back to the castle.” 

“Coward,” Your teeth gritted together, “Show him the marks on your arms. Show him the spell-casting marks that happen to coincidentally match those on the patients.” You were more thankful than ever that Lyra had brought them to your attention. That morning she showed you the marks felt like a lifetime ago. You were too late to save her, but not too late to kill the one who played a part in her death. 

“Or maybe show him the book that Aegon found in your room, the one with all that dark magic.” You finished. 

“Your grace, listen to her delusion. It is–” 

“Perhaps, most of all, tell him why you are still standing here after murdering my father.” By then you had been reduced in tone. Your lips quivered with unvoiced sobs and tears lined your eyes. You wanted to be brave, to face this with no fear, but your life had been nothing but that and you were exhausted more than ever. 

“What in the seven hells is she talking about, Ser Cole?” Aemond asked. His arm had wrapped around your waist when you had become unstable as you stood there. The pain in your wound intensified with your mood. 

“Tell him how heinous you are, how tainted your soul is.” The final accusation was laid out in the open. While Aemond may not understand what you said, Cole clued in on your choice of words. His eyes darkened and his jaw locked.

“I will not stand here and take such accusations.” Cole simmered with anger. He scoffed towards you and turned back to leave the tent. Once again, the coward was fleeing. When he left, you followed quickly after. The intensity of the glaring sun nearly knocked you off your feet. When you got out, you were surprised to see Aegon and Daeron already standing outside the tent. The guards that came with you formed a half circle. Cole occupied some free space. 

“Ah, good to see you, Cole.” Aegon had his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

“Let me through,” Cole demanded.

Daeron and Aegon looked at one another before turning back to him. Daeron’s lips were in a tight line, “Absolutely not.” 

“What is going on here?” You had not even noticed Aemond’s form behind you until he spoke to his brothers. He was close, with his chest just short of hitting your back. 

You turned to Aemond with a solemn look on your face, “It was Cole, the whole time.” His brow twitched at your words but you continued, “The taint, he played a part in it. He murdered my father and he was the one who stabbed me.” 

Aemond shook his head, “No,” His voice showed that he was clearly in denial. 

“Brother,” Daeron spoke, “We can tell you the truth after Cole is in the dungeons.” 

“Where are these accusations coming from?” Aemond questioned, “What validity could they possibly hold?” 

You turned to Aemond and rested a hand on the metal covering his chest while you looked him in the eye, “I know this all sounds overwhelming right now, but I promise it will all make sense.” 

“Then tell me now,” Aemond told you. His hand went up to cover yours that was placed on his chest. You did not know if he did it consciously, but he made no move to let go. Cole had been watching and his gaze intensified. 

You remember growing up, in the stories your father told you, that there were evil people who did evil things, but their motivations behind it were not always bad. He emphasized that a lot; he had always been particular in his ability to see the good in people, no matter who. You had taken those lessons to heart like all the other wisdom imparted to you. Evil was something that often came from desperation, either to protect oneself or others in some twisted reasoning. 

Even now, looking at Cole, you could not see what your father would have been able to see. Perhaps, there was no reasoning behind Cole’s motives. You highly doubted that. There was a reason, as deep as the secrets he kept. You hoped to be privy to it. You wanted to know why he had done this but knew there may never be an answer. 

Cole had begun to laugh. Not jovial, but strange and wild in temper, “Still now you listen to those things.” You were worried that he would make a miscalculated move and hurt any of the surrounding elves, but he seemed to be caught up in his reverie. 

“You betrayed your people… for a fucking peace treaty.” Cole’s words seemed to knock into Aemond and make a profound impact. In all their years together, you doubted Cole had ever spoken to him like that. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Aemond said. 

“The war. Those things,” Cole had raised his voice and pointed at you, “killed countless of our people, your people. And you just ended it all with a piece of parchment, like none of them ever mattered.” 

Aemond stepped forward to be by your side, “Our people had seen enough violence,” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. This time, we’ll take them all out. Starting with this spoiled bitch.” Cole had become nearly raving mad. He reached towards his waist and pulled his long sword out of his scabbard to point directly at you, only a person’s distance away. 

You were frozen in fear, staring at the glinting steel that aimed to strike you down. 

Chapter 20: An Elf's Rage Preview

Elves were immortal, but still susceptible to death. That you knew all too well in the eyes of your patients. The fleeting of their soul was something you recognized. 

That is why it petrified you to see that same look on Aemond.

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[twopoppies]

Hi Gina,

I’m in Europe, so I’m just waking up to all the discourse on your blog about SC. Maybe it’s because I’m older, maybe it’s because I’m more jaded or just the fact that I tend to look for the motives behind the obvious, but SC’s actions yesterday struck me as being very calculated. I forced myself to watch the footage of mourners leaving the service and what I noticed was the boys very discreetly leaving, one by one, trying not to attract too much attention to themselves. Then Liam’s devastated parents escorted Liam to the hearse waiting in front of the church to begin his last journey. It was at that moment that SC made his way towards them and ‘broke down’ in front of them, which basically forced these sweet, kind people to console him in view of the paps and the spectators.

SC has been getting a lot of bad press lately. His search for the next boyband turned out to be a flop. The interview he gave where he talked about his single greatest regret with 1D did him no favors. He tried to use Harry’s name when he told an interviewer that Harry had called him up for a little chat about the good old days and as recently as a month ago he implied Liam had paid him a nice little visit only last summer. He used those boys names to keep himself relevant and to boost his PR, even though Liam’s death had created a lot of backlash for him. What better way then, to clear his name and get back in the public’s good graces, than being seen breaking down in front of Liam’s poor parents and being consoled by them. He’s a narcissist and a master manipulator, so he must have known very well that these sweet people would never do anything to dishonor their son’s memory by pushing him away in full view of the press. And judging by some of the anon’s you’ve gotten, his nefarious little plan seems to be working, because he’s now being seen as the heartbroken friend of the boys and we are the heartless a-holes who refuse to forgive his transgressions.

Anyway, this is just my two cents. Maybe I’m too harsh, but this feels in line with everything else we know about the man, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have orchestrated this entire interaction.

On a side note, thank you for being a voice of reason and a port in a storm for all of us in these difficult times. Your blog is the first thing I turn to every single day and I want you to know how much I appreciate you being here for us all. Don’t forget to take good care of yourself! Sending you much love from Belgium!

Hi sweetheart. Thank you for this. I 100% agree with you. There's absolutely no way he didn't do that as a calculated move.

And thank you for the sweet personal message, too. I'm logging off shortly. Yesterday was super draining. ❤️

[sleepystargaze]

On Caitlyn's 180: An Essay

This is all spoiler below. But I NEED to talk about it.

What if this is the exact moment Caitlyn puts everything together, including Vi being one of the children who burglarized Jayce's penthouse.

Hear me out.

So, Caitlyn asks Vi what she's doing there, and Vi says, "Trying to save my dad." She has this little "AHA!" moment.

(go look at the last panel of this gif set rn for more context)

That woman just had an epiphany. Furthermore, the way the music swells at this exact moment just feels like it's clueing in on more than meets the eyes.

She clearly realizes, at minimum, that her and Vi are here for the same thing: Warwick. And then doesn't even really question it. This got me to thinking, "but how she do that though?"

Well, she has all the information she needs to put it together, this is just the first time she's had a reason to pull that SPECIFIC information together.

Let's start with the fact that Caitlyn loves a mystery, and the rise of shimmer is a part of her favorite mystery.

Literally, in her giant bedroom, the only part of it that looks lived in is the big map at the foot of her bed. The show doesn't indicate when exactly this obsession started for Caitlyn, but it makes it clear that it's been on her mind for a very long time. Jayce called it "the great conspiracy," so she definitely talked about it a lot. And Jayce's flippant attitude tells us she's definitely been thinking about it since she was a teenager.

Educated guess, I believe this started with Sheriff Grayson's murder. (a) It would be unsurprising Caitlyn felt a great need to bring justice to the person that murdered someone she cared for. (b) It was a murder that would ultimately become a cold case. (c) Silco being the main conspirator to her murder, the trail would lead her to a larger conspiracy.

And from this scene above, we know that Vi is impressed with what Caitlyn was able to gather without ever going to the Undercity. Which means, we know her board was really close to the truth. Afterall, it did lead her to Vi, who single-handedly led her to the answers she sought.

So, why the hell does this matter in regards to Vi being involved in the burglary?

Caitlyn knows that Grayson's main priority at the time of her death was finding the culprits of the explosion.

Caitlyn's parents clearly involve her in the conversations revolving around the explosion at the penthouse. I don't feel it's a stretch to assume she also knew that the council were putting pressure on Grayson to solve the case.

The explosion of the warehouse happened on the same night as Grayson's murder. While I don't think Caitlyn had a way to really connect the 2 explosions except that they happen within days of each other, I doubt Caitlyn forgets this fact even if she does not connect them initially. 

Now you may being wondering why the heck that matters. What does the warehouse have anything to do with it?

Caitlyn was in the ruins of the destroyed warehouse at the end of season 1.

In which she heard this conversation.

Thing is, she was going through an extremely traumatic experience at the time... Then her mom was killed... So I doubt she realized it was the same place nor had the mental capabilities of processing the information. And by the time she did have the capacity to really consider it, she likely had no reason to...at least yet.

Regardless, she's here for this conversation. She now at least knows Vander's name and that he was important to them and that Silco murdered him here.

So, she has her connection here. If she realizes this was the location of the second explosion, she now knows that Grayson and Vander were murdered on the same night. And if she connects it to the penthouse explosion, Grayson's investigation and main focus at the time, she also knows that...

4 children were fleeing the scene.

Seems like everyone knew this within the hour after the explosion. Word spread so fast, Vander knew before the kids even got home. Caitlyn undoubtedly knows about the kids. She just doesn't know who they are, but she has seen them.

Caitlyn has an eye for detail and a mind for investigation. I doubt she lets much fall between the cracks. They didn't leave Ekko's home until it was dark. She had plenty of time to look at this mural, at the 4 children including Vi. Then at the tea party when Jinx starts talking to her hallucinations, she's pointed to...

Again, traumatic experience. Probably not thinking about it that hard, but she did see the puppets. Again, no reason to connect those things yet. But she does now have the context to connect that these 2 other children are important to Vi and Jinx and that they were important enough to be brought to the "tea party."

And because of the mural, she knows that these were real people and that they died.

FURTHERMORE, they undoubtedly know who Vander was by the reputation he left behind.

When that one guy getting tortured gave up Vander's statue as the meeting location, Ambessa's second-hand man, who is not from Zaun OR Piltover, knew exactly where that was. There's no way Caitlyn doesn't also know about the statue. Besides that, she also saw him in the mural. If she's seen this statue, she knows it's the same man.

Caitlyn would now know that Vander is important to the whole undercity. "Well respected."

Lastly, Singed told Ambessa about the man behind the monster.

This one is a bit of a stretch, but think about it. Ambessa has no reason to withhold the information Singed gave her. Here it is below if you want a reminder:

"He isn't a monster. He was once a man. Well respected, at that. Victim of great tragedy. He had a furocious will to live. An incredible tolerance for pain. With him, I was able to make strides impossible with any other specimen. But the mind... the mind I could not recover. The man forever lost in the bowels of the beast, compelled only by the scent of blood. Or so I thought. It now seems I had yet to uncover the right catalyst."

Singed is awfully forthcoming with information once he realizes he doesn't have to hide it from Ambessa. And when Caitlyn walks in on them in Singe's lab, Ambessa makes no effort to hide her current involvement with Singed. AND even if Ambessa realizes Singed is talking about Vander, I highly doubt Ambessa has the information necessary to realize she's literally delivering Caitlyn to a connection to not only Vi, but Jinx.

Caitlyn, however, does have all the information. If Ambessa or Singed told Caitlyn the same info or even more, Caitlyn could likely start making some assumptions on who the man behind the beast is.

She just didn't have a catalyst to put everything together... Again, yet.

And while we're on the topic of this scene...

We learn Caitlyn abhors a gap in information.

Caitlyn talks about the mystery of shimmer, "This led to one other missing puzzle piece whose absence has always gnawed at my mind."

She wants all the details even if it does not add much to the full picture.

She already knows Silco and the chembarons are responsible for the manufacturing and distribution of shimmer. Learning who made it only tells her who made it. It doesn't solve anything or change what she would have to do to stop the spread of shimmer. But she wants to know. She HAS to know.

She wants all the dots to connect and is not satisfied until they do.

So, when Vi says, "Trying to save... my dad."

What if this one sentence was all Caitlyn needs to connect everything she didn't understand before. I mean, how else do you explain that little "aha" head move she does.

There is no way she did not take a greater interested in how the heck Vi was involved to begin with and especially as a child.

Her main focus has been on Jinx: finding her and bringing her to justice. She's been distracted.

What if this is the catalyst, the first time she has a reason to connect all those dots to make what Vi said make sense. And suddenly it all does.

Honestly, it would explain why Caitlyn jumped ship so easily.

In conclusion.

Caitlyn has all the information she needs to connect the dots.

She has the motivations to continue seeking those answers.

She just didn't have the mental opportunity to really consider it... until she did.

Anyway... Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe one "Cupcake" is just not enough to convince me she'd immediately plan a mutiny, but maybe she is that simple! (She's definitely not. *coughs*)

But you know what, even if she didn't glean that Warwick is actually Vander and Vander is Vi's dad in that moment, she definitely knows after this...

So, anyway, I think she definitely knows or is at minimum primed to have the realization. Guess we'll see.

[fallen--starlight]

hi tumblr user if-you-soul i need to preface this by saying i was actually discussing the god awful mischaracterization this fandom inflicts on HMS with my besties & opened tumblr to look for your reblog of that soul fanart saying "YOU fell for the character's facade that was meant to be dismantled by the viewer!" & got hit w this & it MADE MY DAY. i fucking love this album to death & im a soul fictionkin so these things drive me up a fucking wall

cccc is pretty straightforward while also being purposefully vague & left up to interpretation in many areas but soooo many people take interpretation to twisting the narrative until its no longer what it was & it makes me ask myself did we listen to same tracks here?? where are yall getting these things from???? this got rly fucking long so im adding a cut here voilá

when people talk abt the mischaracterization in the fandom its usually focused on heart & mind so im INSANELY glad to see someone talk abt the soul shit. cause what kinda crack are people on?? he never threatens to harm h&m except for at the end of TSE where he is... having a mental breakdown? have people forgotten what it's like to have a breakdown??? you say shit you dont mean bc you're splitting at the seams & falling apart. there is no point in the entire album where soul is portrayed as manipulative/entitled/evil/violent/abusive/erratic, which are descriptions a surprisingly large amt of ppl seem to subscribe to? HE'S A VICTIM !!!! & im so glad you said it! i too have been in a kind of middleman position to parties fighting with each other & its insanely detrimental to one's mental health & had me at an incredibly low point so yeah TSE feels deeply personal to me & soul's character in general (waves in soul kin again LMAO), drives me bonkers how ppl describe him.

mind WISHES he was unfeeling. heart calling him an automaton freak doesnt mean he doesnt feel! it means that he just PUSHES AWAY & REPRESSES EMOTION, or at least tries to. like one has to really emphasize that everything between the heart acoustic & the soul eclectic has mind clearly displaying rage & bitterness & all kinds of emotions. even the end of TME says "maybe my existence might be by design, a simple fact that he'll refuse to see" like bro says its a maybe & then immediately claims its a fact yall are falling for his facade so hardcore its not even funny atp. the way people treat heart is borderline gross, he is NOT an uwu baby innocent boy that doesnt know anything & ppl infantilize him so much idek why. heart represents emotion- ALL emotions. & you're right! emotions are so fucking draining & exhausting at times, especially if you're mentally ill! all this weird portrayal of evil mind & innocent heart is so ?? can i quote TSE with neither is wrong yet neither is right. all 3 of them are neither good nor evil. they're people. they're human. the album really emphasizes this a lot.

the juno incident & RoE in general is made to be a much bigger deal by the fandom that it really is. applies to more than one thing in cccc but RoE takes the cake tbh. & yeah! whole is an entirely fanon thing lololol like im pretty fucking sure even chonny jash has said this someway or another. what we call whole is literally just...chonny. i think ppl took dream's "when harmonia shines, atlas beholds her" & RAN. & honestly i like whole hcs but this brings me to another thing: i really feel like cccc fans come up with so many hcs & interpretations for the album that they forget what the canon is in favor of their fanon. there's so much shock gore & gore in general for lowkey no reason in here </3 its so much & for what. fanon is awesome like everyone should be free to do whatever but i do wish ppl would Remember Canon a bit more & separate their hcs from it more. along with the gore. where are yall getting all this insane amount of gore & violence from. i feel like any violence alluded to in the album is more metaphorical than it is physical bc emotions can be felt violently. internal violence. the album is abt the never ending cycle of mental illness getting better & then getting bad again & so forth as a natural part of life & accepting yourself in those moments.

tl;dr u r so correct & i couldnt agree more & you've voiced the way i've felt abt this fandom for ages we lost the fucking plot & kept running anyways lets pause & find it again thank you so much for sharing ur yapsesh with us

Mischaracterization in the CCCC fandom: a yapsesh (alternative title: Erm... What the Gore is Going On?)

Hi. Woaw. I'm actually making that post I talked about.

So. One thing I've noticed in the CCCC fandom is this weird fixation on gore, torture, violence, etc. Usually a level of graphic content that makes your average horror flick look... pretty tame!

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy horror! I even think a horror story based around psychological conflict similar to CCCC could work well!

But is it just me, or has this fandom COMPLETELY lost track of what the characters are like in the source material?

Like. Let's be real. Nowhere in the album does Soul do gruesome surgeries on Mind, nowhere does Mind go ripping people to shreds like Doomguy, et cetera. The closest thing we have to an implication of violence is what most of us call the "Juno incident"- as even "tines stabbed through eyes" is clearly a metaphor with the next line: "that the sides have condemned."

Im gonna talk ab the characters themselves under the cut

I feel the biggest victim of this mischaracterization is Soul. In the album he's... kind of a victim, really. He toughs out being dismissed and fought over and pushed aside and outright dehumanized for so, so long. Are we seriously just... going to characterize him based solely on his lowest point in TSE? Spring and a Storm and Mucka Blucka are also songs where he's present- along with his presence in Just Apathy that the fandom seems to outright deny to keep their characterization of him as some violent, abusive monster. (Which, again, is quite literally never alluded to! He's honestly kind of a victim, if anything!)

Ohhkay. Next topic. Mind. Oh boy I have thoughts on how people characterize Mind.

He's not emotionless. If you believe this, you've fallen for his stoic facade. All of his songs are just. So full of so much rage. Maybe even a little bit of grief and sadness and fear, masked by said rage. He isn't some emotionless robot- (Heart calls him an automaton as an insult, but that's another rant.) and honestly it feels like such a disservice to such an interesting character with so much unexplored depth to portray him as such.

Heart. Oh boy. Where do I start. Heart what did they do to you.

Heart is the emotional side, yes, but that isn't just some... smol innocent uwu baby who cries all the time. Emotions aren't small and cute and timid. They're INTENSE and PASSIONATE and EXHAUSTING. Strong emotions leave you so, so drained, good OR bad. This is so much more interesting than portraying him as some "uwu hai dere!!" type of character. Which is nowhere in the album.

Whole is hardly even a character. Soul worshipping and praying to whole is fanon.

This fandom's weird obsession with creating shock gore and one-upping each other in a violence competition has spiraled pretty far out of control, and it's honestly crazy. How do you go from an album about internal conflict to violence that would make even the cast of Resident Evil cringe? Brah.

Final notes uhhh. Soul is a victim who got pushed to his limit, not an evil heartless abuser. Mind is angry and unstable and hurt, not some emotionless robot. Heart is the entire emotional spectrum, not some innocent baby. Ok i . I think that's all. Have a good one

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Fives Thoughts

Sooooo I literally just made a post being like 'here are some fun bits from Umbara because the arc is depressing and I don't wanna talk about the sad bits' but uh... I had thoughts in the last 15 mins and now I wanna share them. 😃

And of course tagging as usual for people I'm interested to hear opinions from: @saturn-sends-hugs @inkstainedhandswithrings @the-bi-space-ace

It's been a while since I watched these story arcs back-to-back, so a lot of the character development is really showing atm. And one I find interesting is a shift in Fives between The Citadel and Umbara.

Fives has always had a bit of a firey personality, but up until this point he's been a little bit held back with that passion for the most part. And I'm gonna touch in something that @novaceleste and @spaceyjessa spoke about in their podcast (@coffeeandclones I was just listening to it the other day and they talk about some interesting points. Defo recommend you check it out. Also #JusticeForDroidbait2024) because it really is the basis for this whole point. Despite Fives being the brasher, slightly more hardheaded personality, and Echo being the more by-the-books one, it's Echo that tends to do a lot of the talking when authority is involved. When they speak to Shaak Ti, it's Echo that takes the lead, while Fives is a little more hesitant.

And when they first meet Rex and Cody, Fives automatically introduces himself as CT-27-5555, despite being very open about his displeasure of being called that throughout their training. He has this louder personality but he tends to draw into himself and panic slightly when put in front of authority.

However, he still has these more fiery moments, like during his speech in ARC Troopers. When he's put in a fight, that spark within him comes out full force. "My blood is boiling for a fight." That's what drives Fives. That's where that passion comes from. He always wanted to make ARC trooper, to prove himself and to demonstrate that fire in the fight.

And yet when we get to the Citadel, he's surprisingly nervous. Echo seems to be fairly on board with everything, he's listening intently, he's down with the plan. But Fives is rather hesitant and doesn't seem totally enthused about the whole thing. They've made ARC trooper, they're being included in a specialist mission, the things that Fives so desperately worked for. But now that they're here? He's really not comfortable with it.

And I think that Fives' passion and drive is so prominent in the heat of battle because his adrenaline is going, he's got the energy to burn and so that's when we see this fire in him. But in the quieter moments, the meetings, the in-between fights? He's nervous. Those are the moments where he can sit on it and really think about what they're up against. And what becomes really apparent is that Fives is absolutely terrified of the thing that fuels his fire. The thing he worked so hard for scares the absolute shit out of him. And for good reason.

But it's never been so much of an issue because he had Echo. Echo, who's more level headed, who feels comfortable with plans and formats and authority. He could be the comforting presence that Fives needed outside of battle, while Fives could be the spark in it. They're like fire and water. They keep each other regulated, balanced.

But then The Citadel happens.

And watching the Umbara arc, I noticed that Fives doesn't have that very noticeable fear. It's not that it's absent, it's just that it isn't so obvious all of the time. Of course, some of that is going to come with experience, he's been an ARC for longer, he's know Rex for a while so there's slightly more comfort with that level of authority, but he's definitely more consistently confident than he was before.

So my suggestion is, what if that comes as a result of losing Echo (at least in part)? He doesn't have that calming presence anymore, the one to balance his nerves. He doesn't have someone to stand firm beside him or take the bigger step for the two of them, so he's had to learn to do that himself. I think part of it is natural growth that comes with experience (to quote Rex: "experience outranks everything") but I do also think it comes with no longer having that constant other half. Fives has had to learn to balance himself.

Like I said earlier, a lot of this links back to stuff said in Nova and Jessa's podcast, so I'd recommend checking it out. But I just wanted to add my extra thoughts on it, having just watched Umbara, because it definitely stuck out to me on this rewatch.

[writerfromshikahr]

A pre-relationship piece. TW for some discussion of abuse, but nothing detailed.

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Pebbles - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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"I can see why this is your favourite spot," Rook said, gazing out at the bustling city below. "Treviso looks stunning from up here. I never got to explore this part of the city as a child."

Lucanis smiled as they sat together on the rooftop. "Illario and I would come up here and throw pebbles at the people below—until Caterina caught us," he said, smirking. "It was his idea, of course."

Rook laughed softly. "Yes, that does seem like something he would do," she said, turning to him with a knowing smile. "But you should have known better."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city below filling the air. Then Rook spoke again. "Must have been hard, growing up with Caterina. She seems like a formidable woman. If your training was anything like mine…" Rook trailed off, her voice softening as she caught herself.

Lucanis regarded her for a moment, his gaze steady but unreadable. "She’s my grandmother, but yes, it was difficult. At the time, I hated her. She was impossible to please, and like most Crows, I suffered. But what made it worse," he said, his tone lowering, "was when she’d turn around and tell me it was because she cared for me. It was… confusing."

"I understand," she said quietly, though her voice carried the weight of her memories.

"And you?" Lucanis asked, his gaze lingering on her. "I learned a little from Viago. He may have called you 'his idiot,' but don’t take it personally. If he ever stops using that word, then you should start worrying." His smirk softened as he added, "You were eight when you joined House de Riva?"

"My parents were killed while they were trading here," Rook said, her gaze fixed on the city below. "We were walking back to our accommodations when some mercenaries jumped them. I don’t remember much of that evening." She hesitated, "But I do remember using my magic for the first time—trying to help my mother."

Her hand drifted to her lap, her fingers fidgeting as she spoke. "I would have been killed too if it hadn’t been for a Crow that… intervened." The word lingered, heavy with meaning. "House de Riva took me in—gave me a home, a place to sleep. But they never addressed what I’d witnessed. Instead, they used it, reminded me of that night, to push me harder in training." She glanced at Lucanis, her expression conflicted. "I’m grateful, but like you said, it’s strange to feel grateful to people who also hurt you."

"We have things in common, it seems," his voice thoughtful. "I lost my parents young, but unlike you, I had family." He glanced at her, his expression softening. "You were alone in a city that wasn’t your own, surrounded by strangers you had no choice but to rely on." He paused, his dark eyes lingering on hers. "Admirable resilience for someone so young, Rook."

"I get a compliment Dellamorte? I’ll take it—Viago doesn’t hand those out too often."

"Oh, you’re his favourite; that’s why he’s harder on you," Lucanis leaned back on his hands. "Besides, you have me by your side now. That’d terrify him more—he and I, we have a history."

"By my side? Is this just Crow loyalty, or… something else?" she mused, glancing down at the city. Her heart fluttered as the question lingered, unspoken feelings stirring beneath her curiosity.

He regarded her quietly for a moment before replying, his tone unreadable. "As I said, there are plenty of reasons to work with you. Some, I admit, might be more out of self-interest than others."

"Self-interest? I can work with that," she said, smiling at him.

Lucanis didn’t respond, and she hadn’t expected him to. Silence fell again, broken only by the faint hum of the city. She noticed him digging into his pocket.

"I almost forgot," he said, pulling out a small handful of pebbles and offering them to her.

"I wondered why you were picking those up when we walked here."

He smiled playfully. "Whoever can hit that merchant’s stall three times in a row buys the coffee later. Bonus points if you can land one in the bowl of mackerel."

Rook raised a brow, taking a pebble. "The fish? Now you’re just trying to show off."

Lucanis rolled a pebble between his fingers. "Maybe. Or maybe I just want to see if you're up for the challenge." He tossed the pebble lightly in the air and caught it, his gaze darting to the stall below. "Your move."

Rook narrowed her eyes, "Oh, I’m more than up for it."

She aimed, letting the pebble fly. It bounced off the corner of the merchant's stall, missing her mark by inches. "Damn it," she muttered, biting back a laugh.

He chuckled, leaning forward. "Close, but not quite. Watch and learn." With an almost lazy flick of his wrist, his pebble sailed down, landing with a soft plunk in the bowl. He tossed another pebble in the air looking decidedly smug.

"My coffee’s going to taste even better knowing you’re paying for it."

[whereispearlescentmoon]

Pearl Wild Life Session 6 Live Reaction

Title has me scared, thumbnail has me hyped. Murder camel?? But also Loss??? | | |I

|| | |_

Yay trap day!

Ooo our only choices are Gem and Lizzie!

Meeting time! We have a six person team that’s literally crazy. Grandpa and Ghost are here.

Not them being liars in chat lol “This is crazy!” “no way” “YOU GUYS DONT HAVE THIS?” “that was scary for a second” the power of having so many people is you can just lie.

PEARL STOP GOING PLACES ALONE! THIS IS HOW WE DIE PEARL!

Hi Billy! Hi cows!

Bluetooth redstone!

BILLY NO!

GUARDIAN AND PIGLINS AND PILLAGERS??

Billy is a donkey now??

New camel duo!!

OG CAMEL DUO YAY!

“How much do you hate me today Gem?” “A lot!” We may be on a camel but the divorce is still on!

“You know why though? I’ve reasons today. I have reason. I’ve reflected. Do you remember last session when you couldn’t remember, you thought you put your eye into the portal! Do you remember that?” “Ohhh but we weren’t even there for you putting the eyeball into that!” “Did you even look me in the face during our murder camel happenings?” “Yeah we had such a good time! It was so much fun!” “Do you remember what my face looked like?” “Oh. I forgot about your skin.” “Are you guys bonding?” “No, not bonding at all Impulse. This is so sad” “Okay and then other than that!” “It’s okay she’s gonna talk about it Impulse.” “You 2v1’d me! I’m still holding a grudge about that! And you know about holding grudges across seasons!” “Let’s put this straight! I didn’t 2v1 you. I let Scar kill you, I watched.” “No, I remember specifically you hitting me once!” “Just once! Just one little wack!” “It was not a regen based season!” “I sat the dogs down, Gem. You had so many hearts, you were gonna live!” “Once was enough!” “You were fine, you see look at that! We’re thriving!” You’re both right and both wrong. The best kind of argument.

“I’m just saying, I’ll forgive you if you actually 1v1v1v whatever me and not 2v1.” “It seems kinda like we’re trying to kill each other at that point. Seems kinda against the point, no? Right?” “Yeah, we have to die Pearl, that’s the game.” “Seems like there’s only resolution after the game, right?” “We can die six times, we don’t have to die.” “I CANT DIE SIX TIMES? I can die twice!” “You can die once.” “Okay, 1v1 me right now Gem.” “Okay!” “You were too all into that.” “Well. It’s high stakes for you. We’ve PvPed on Hermitcraft, it’s about 50/50 who wins who loses.” “Yeah but I’m yellow.” You two are going to drive me insane. SHES OFFERING YOU A SOLUTION PEARL PLEASE I KNOW ITS HIGH STAKES BUT THE DRAMA WOULD BE DELISH EITHER WAY!

Oh no what happens if Billy becomes hostile. Do we have to kill him?

Lizzie sacrificed herself to Jimmy! Gem is the last dark green…

Impulse and Pearl trapping together! And failing!

“You don’t need Impulse! You’re capable!” “Clearly not!” Seems like you weren’t there for her 27 fails against Lizzie last session lol.

“Two hunks on the hump” martyn why

“Puppy! Awwwww”

All that argument about the cows was for nothing…. We made enemies with Gem and Joel for nothing…

A positive shiny duo interaction? In my wild life? (Ignore that she called Gem a rat and tried to kill her it’s fine) AND THEY GOT ON A CAMEL AFTER!

Tango on the camel! A new murder buddy! Hi Skizzy! Can’t wait to watch other povs and see her camel scooting across the ground lol.

SKIZZ GOT THE GEM KILL YAY! Pearl didn’t aww

THERES A WARDEN WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING IN THIS SERIES!

Oh it’s Tango, Pearl and Etho! That’s the perfect trio to encounter a warden! The decked out winner, Queen, and game master lol

Oh great they name tagged it so he can never leave. Beautiful.

Pearl’s immunity to warden fear is real and true. I do not believe Grian even a little bit. No one should get near the warden lol.

SKIZZ RUN SKIZZ RUN SKIZZ WHY YOU JUST GOT BACK TO GREEN

Skizz, Scott and Pearl slowly tridenting a warden to death is so funny. PEARL DO NOT GET CLOSER PEARL!

Oh she got the totem! Yay!! I should have believed Grian!

A creeper claims another kill. Oh BigB with a creeper! He doesn’t get a life cause Skizz was light green tho.

Ah! A pit trap on the creeper farm! And a trap on the wheat! This whole base is rigged to kill and that’s wonderful.

Scar died to a Vex? Ironic. And Etho to a Skellyboy!

Ooo Skizz on red!

PEARL WHY DO YOU WANT TO START A RAID??

“Pearl and I are off to cause chaos!” Welcome to the summary of Impulse and Pearl’s wild life season. Aw the raid isn’t working :( NEVER MIND ITS WORKING NOW SCRAM

Jimmy was killed by bloop?

“You know I want you to win the series!” AWW SHE GAVE HIM HER TOTEM! THEY ARE BESTIES! I LOVE THEM!

Skizz is gone! Aw! Jimmy is officially the highest rank he’s ever been btw.

It’s a birthday cake! Yay!

Since when was Lizzie on red? Hello?

Pearl failing to kill… again. She’s so washed up (affectionate)

Trip cancelled! Trip cancelled! That editing was hilarious with the music stopping.

Pearl you will not be able to successfully trap Gem. I think we have to give up at some point. (This is a joke)

“Pearl, Scar wants me to kill you and I said no way” “Why would he want to kill me? I haven’t done anything to him.” “He said you want out of the series, so, and I said no that’s a lie.” Nosey Neighbors crumbs.

Calling a lie a “porky” is the most Aussie thing I’ve ever heard.

Omg she stole Gem’s camel. There’s some symbolism there I guess.

Yay Bdubs ally! I dub thee, Gonzo.

I liked the wild card this episode! Very fun, especially cause of how much of the season has been squabbling about cows lol. Who cares, the cows are dead!

[m4iya]

⋆⑅˚₊ Order up! - Strawberry Muffins with cookie dough to eat in for @ailurophile

Club Manager ft. Tetsurou Kuroo (fluff)

w.c 2k

Spoilers for the Battle at the Garbage Dump movie!!

“It’s already our second year, are you sure you aren’t going to join a club at all?” The girl spoke while glancing over at her friend, whose head was slumped on the table.

It wasn’t like she didn’t want to at all, but the thought of asking would be too embarrassing. It was already the fourth week of school, and everyone seemed to have joined a club already. She hadn’t joined one in her first year, so how would she gain the confidence to join one now?

“It’d stand out on your resume” She grinned convincingly.

“I know..” The girl groaned. “It’s hard for me to just waltz up to an already established club and ask to join.”

“You can be so awkward.”

“I know.”

Though, it seemed someone had overheard her from across the classroom, as when she was packing her bag for the day, she was approached by a timid boy.

“Um.. I overheard you and your friend from across the class..” He spoke with a soft tone, avoiding her gaze. She titled her head in confusion.

“About?”

“Joining a club.”

“Right..” She chuckled.

The boy stuck his hand into his pocket, taking a phone out. “We have a spot at the volleyball club. The team is looking for a manager.. I can call our captain if you want to join” He offered.

“Oh! Um… I don’t really know much about volleyball. I’ve never even seen a game, I don’t think I’d be much help.” A nervous laugh escaped her lips.

“It’s fine. I had to start somewhere too.”

Nodding in agreement, she zipped her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She weighed her options; she could join a club now, and continue with it until her third year. Or she’d reach her third year, having not joined any clubs or made any friends outside her small circle.

And after three whole years, she’d leave school with so many things she could’ve partook in. She’d be the one person who always stood off to the side while everybody else took the opportunity to grow.

“I guess I’ll join.” She smiled warmly.

“I’ll call him then..” The boy’s voice trailed off as he pulled out his phone, dialling somebody. Suddenly, the sound of a ringing phone from outside the classroom inched closer alongside a set of footsteps.

“Is he outside?” She questioned

“Give it a few seconds,” he replied “He’ll probably let it ring out.”

Sure enough, a few moments later, a tall student slid the door to the classroom open. The first thing that stood out to her was his very messy bedhead.

She stifled a laugh.

“Kuroo, this girl said she’ll be our manager.” He said, stepping aside.

“Hello..” She waved.

Kuroo let out a hearty laugh as he walked towards the pair. “Kenma, you actually spoke to someone you didn’t know? Without anyone else?”

“It was for the club.”

As he stood in front of her, she was reminded how tall the third year students were in comparison to her.

“Our new manager?”

“I don’t have any experience, so..” She replied, shy.

“We’ll teach you the ropes!” He grinned, slinging an arm over the boy who looked as though he wanted to leave immediately.

After introducing themselves, the three of them, headed for the gymnasium with Kenma lagging behind. It seemed he was distracted by a game on his phone.

She felt nervous, walking next to this boy who she’d never seen before today. Not to mention how tall he was; if she’d turn her head to the side, his shoulder would block her view.

“Say..” She began, aware of his gaze turning towards her. “Is there a reason why you waited until now to recruit a manager?”

“Well, we usually do all the manager work ourselves.” He admitted. “But for us to grow as a team, we need every member - even the substitutes - focused on enhancing their skills.”

She had never involved herself in something like this before, having no idea that it required this level of perseverance. She wondered if this new role of hers would inspire her to pursue a goal of her own.

“..And why did you wait until now to join a club?” He teased, almost scoldingly.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she raised a hand to rub her neck, eyes locked onto the hallway in front of her. She didn’t even think about turning to face him – not from this close.

“I don’t know.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “I guess I’m a bit lazy.”

Through a sideways glance, she caught a glimpse of a smile forming on his lips. “To be honest with you, some guys on our team want a female manager” He blurted out casually.

Eyes wide with surprise, she giggled “What?”

Listening as Kuroo explained the situation with Karasuno’s manager – forming an unspoken rivalry between two boys on each team.

As the minutes passed, her speech began to flow more than usual. She hadn’t expected to be this at ease when talking to somebody new – especially someone who seemed as intense as he did. She found herself sneaking glances at him as he spoke, her gaze lingering longer each time.

He continued, answering her basic questions about volleyball theatrically. The corners of her lips curved upwards as she was unable to stop the constant laughs escaping her as he spoke.

Their walk to the gymnasium seemed to last way longer than any usual circumstance. Their initial brisk pace gradually slowed down.

As he spoke, it was as though he singlehandedly untied the knot in her chest. It was then when she began noticing the smallest things. The way his genuine laughter would sound in her ears, the brightness in his eyes despite their oak hue, the softness in his expression when he spoke of his friends on the team. The way he’d lean over to hear her when she wasn’t clear enough.

Amongst dozens of students passing by, each engrossed in their own conversations, and through all the lingering shouts and laughter, her attention remained focused on him.

And just like that, he introduced her to the rest of the team. Met with a warm welcome, she didn’t feel any of the pressure she had imagined.

She watched as they trained, playing practice matches on a weekly basis with multiple other schools, each team member striving to work on their weaknesses.

Alongside her new friendships with the team members, something separate happened to be blooming on the side.

Whether during class time or practice – it became a joke amongst the team members that if you saw Kuroo, you’d probaby see her, and vice versa.

“Kuroo, eyes on the ball!” Yaku shouted from behind the defence line.

He was usually hyper-focused when on the court. Though, something had uncharacteristically been weighing down his thoughts lately.

The libero’s shout broke Kuroo’s distraction, and with a forward glance, the flying spike rushed into his face and sent him to the ground.

“You okay?” Taketora yelled from the opposite side of the net.

“I’m fine..” He replied, standing back up despite feeling a little dizzy.

“Someone’s been pretty distracted lately.” Yaku teased, walking up to Kuroo and slapping his back.

“Excuse me?” He defensively responds, crossing his arms. “Kenma, you tell them.”

“He’s always talking about our manager.”

“Hey!”               

The rest of the team bursts out in laughter as not even Kenma could disagree that he’d definitely been distracted by something lately.

As if right on cue, she walked into the gym holding water bottles for the team, handing one to each of them as they regrouped for a break. His eyes softened upon seeing her face again, something that he’d been doing subconsciously as of late. Upon handing him a bottle, she noticed his face was visibly wounded.

“Did you hurt yourself?!” She gasped, leaning forward for a closer look.

Kuroo’s eyes widened, darting to the side “I’m good..!” He nervously chuckled, taking a gulp of water. He knew he was distracted and was well aware of how he was acting – especially around her.

Bright lights, roaring crowds and dozens of teams, each representing their prefecture. 52 whole teams. It was one of the first times she’d been somewhere so intense, and although she wasn’t playing, she felt extremely nervous.

Nekoma had made it to the quarterfinals – facing their long awaited opponents. She heard about the rivalry from Coach Nekomata; she could only imagine the stress weighing down on the shoulders of both teams.

Though, she herself had been thinking of something for a while. After clarifying with one of the team members, he confirmed that this would be the last match for the third years unless they make it through.

That also meant her last match as Kuroo’s manager.

She had a feeling that he’d been thinking of the same thing as well. Though, she’d avoided mentioning it. If she was the captain of a team playing a national match that generations had been waiting to see, she’d probably try to drown out distractions.

All she could do was sit on the bench, record details, and  keep things organised for their time-outs.

She watched as each team fought tooth and nail for every point, treating each play like it was their last. The tension weighed heavy, Nekomas persistent defence paired with Karasuno’s intense offence. Every point scored, every set passed inched closer to the conclusion of the match.

Then it came – Karasuno’s match point of the last set. Gripping her book and pen tightly in her hands, her eyes darted across the court, following the course of the ball. Both teams’ exhaustion was reaching its limit.  

She watched as Kenma briskly stepped back, raising his arms for a set as Taketora ran outwards for a quick start to his jump. It all happened so quickly – the next thing she knew, the ball had hit the floor on their side of the net.

Everyone seemed to pause for a moment, taking time to process everything that had just happened in the span of a few seconds.

The whistle sounded, marking the end of the match. She watched as the boys shook hands with the opposing team, not a single one bearing a semblance of anger at the other.

Remaining seated on the bench, her lips began to quiver. She kept her gaze downwards at her feet, her vision becoming clouded by the layer of tears glossing her eyes.

The team then regrouped in front of the coach to hear a few words from him. She stood beside them, unable to look anyone in the eye; she flicked through her book, making annotations here and there to keep herself distracted.

He had noticed her uncharacteristic silence - usually, she’d be all over the place, making jokes and whatnot. Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand why she had been so quiet.

As she stood behind the bench, stuffing her notebook and pen into her backpack, she noticed a familiar pair of black shoes in her peripheral.

Looking up at him, she felt tears intensely well up in her eyes, once again distorting her sight.

“Kuroo, I-“

“Not here.” He said gently “Let’s go.”

She followed him as he guided her into the hallway, voices and cheers from the court muffling, and the crowds decreasing. In front of him, she crumbled, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to communicate her feelings.

“Come on, why the tears?” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and gently rocking back and forth. “Aren’t you supposed to be the calm and collected manager?”

She sniffed, managing a stifled giggle. Loosening his hold around her, he pulled back momentarily.

She wiped her tears before finally looking up at him. He met her eyes with an expression that read ‘I know’.

“I’ll still be around. After I graduate..” Pausing, his voice softened “..And even after you graduate.”

“It won’t be the same..”

“But it doesn’t mean it’s over.”

Mya's Bakery Event 𝜗𝜚 other works

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 16

Masterlist

Jason had been planning on waiting to call Phantom until a bit later in the day, he had, really! But after a few hours of trying to sleep and a few dozen more muffins, Jason was bored out of his mind and fighting the urge to storm Danny’s apartment and ask him what the fuck he wasn’t telling. So instead of freaking out the only kind of normal person he’d kind of befriended (and really wanted to have the chance to get to know better) he decided to get answers from someone who’d basically offered them.

That’s how he found himself standing in the alley beside a coffee shop (the same one he’d met Danny at to discuss tutoring the boys) in full gear in the middle of the afternoon holding out a piece of paper with a summoning circle on it. The directions on the back said to just hold it out and say his name three times and he shall appear (was that real or was Phantom making a stupid ass joke?) like bloody mary or some shit.

But it worked and only a few moments after he’d said ‘Phantom’ for the third time there was a glowing, blinding light.

“I thought we were going to get coffee, eh sugar?” The ghost’s voice was strange, it sounded layered and loud and yet…. Something about it was soothing, gentle, like he was meant to hear it.

Jason snorted. “Didn’t think summoning you inside the coffee shop was such a good idea.” He looked in the general direction he thought the ghost's eyes would be but his glowing was making it difficult to see.

The ghost floated closer to the ground until he landed gently and the light emanating off of him dimmed enough to really see what he looked like. He wore knee high white boots with loose fitting black pants tucked into them (Jason did not note that the pants were tighter around his hips- he didn’t- he most certainly was not checking out this stranger), a white belt that helped break up the black pants from the black undershirt he had tucked into the pants, some silver chains hanging off his belt, a cropped black sweatshirt that hung just below his ribs with the sleeves tucked into white gloves that matched the boots, and a symbol on his chest. The symbol wasn’t something he recognized.

“Fair enough. I actually slept well for once so I’m not in desperate need of coffee like usual.” smirking, as if he’d just remembered something, Phantom side eyed Hood. “I can think of a few other things I’m in desperate need of.”

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the butterflies in his stomach (what was he- a twelve year old girl?), Hood crossed his arms. “I was unaware a king could be desperate for anything.”

Waving a hand dismissively, the Ghost chuckled. “Believe me, there are many things I desperately need as a king, one of them is to not be the king but, well, what’re you gonna do? But you didn’t call me here to talk about that, what can I help you with, hot stuff?”

“You wanted coffee, I have questions, seemed like a good enough reason.” Hood shrugged.

Phantom pretended to pout. “I’m hurt. You didn’t just call me here for a date?”

“You don’t even know me.” Hood responded flatly.

The king shrugged. “I know you’re a hero in the eyes of my people. I know you’ve got a bit of a dead thing going on.” he wiggled his fingers at Hood. “I know you’re hot.” He smirked as Hood clenched his jaw, Danny flashing through his mind for some reason. “I know if you weren’t curious about me you wouldn’t have called me here. So, I’ve got a couple of hours, and I believe I promised you coffee.”

The looks they got when walking into the coffee shop were admittedly hilarious and Jason vowed to go out a little more often as Red Hood in broad daylight just to see it. Although it might not have been the crime lord walking around midday but the glowing ghost who floated beside him that earned them so many looks. They placed their orders quickly and got their drinks even quicker.

Hood gave him an inquisitive look as he headed for the exit. “Best not to talk about all this around civilians.” He paused before offering another smirk that Hood was growing far too used to. “Unless you like when others watch.”

Jesus Christ Phantom was going to be the death of him. This time he wouldn’t come back. Would he be a ghost? If he were a ghost and Phantom the king of ghosts- 

Jason cut that line of thinking off with a firm shake of his head.

The pair made their way to a nearby rooftop and sat on the edge in silence. Only for a moment though while Phantom was drinking his tea, then he broke the silence.

“Well? Let’s hear your questions.” 

Hood didn’t know where to start. “Why are your eyes green?”

Phantom gave him a strange look. “Why… are my… eyes green? That’s what you’re going with? Why are you built like a brick shit house?”

A brick- what?

“Huh?” 

“You can ask me- the ghost king- anything you want, and you ask about my eye color?” Phantom scoffed.

Hood stared trying to figure out how to ask about their matchy glowing green eyes without outing himself. “No I- fuck, listen- I have a friend.” He finally settled on. “Something happened and he was angry and beating someone- someone who deserved it, mind you. When I pulled him offa the guy he was beating up, his eyes were green like yours. Like, glowy neon green.”

“Is this a ‘I have a friend’ situation where you're actually talking about yourself?” Phantom asked slowly and wow, okay. Sure, it was kind of, but not really either. How the fuck did Phantom manage to read him like a book?

“If I say it’s not?”

Phantom smirked. “I’d say you’re lying. But whatever.” He shrugged, setting his tea down beside him and clasping his hands together. “My eyes are green like ectoplasm- kinda like the lifeblood of ghosts in a sense. Anyone whose eyes glow green like mine have likely been around ectoplasm and- more likely- have died. Not all ghosts' eyes are green, but that’s my best guess for why this ‘friend’ of yours has glowing eyes.”

He supposed that made sense. He and Danny had both died but- “But why does it come and go?”

Phantom eyed him for a while, oddly quiet, before responding. “This friend of yours. What’s his name?”

And- okay, that wasn’t information he was sure he should give out. Danny had told him in confidence about his death and all of the ghost things that came along with it so he didn’t want to go around spreading his business. At the same time this was the ghost king- he could probably figure out who Jason was talking about if he really wanted to. But still! He didn’t want to do anything that would hurt Danny-

As if sensing Hood’s discomfort, Phantom spoke again. “I’m just going to take a guess and say it was Danny Nightingale?” When Hood neither confirmed nor denied, he continued. “Danny’s a bit of a special case. The guy is kind of dead, kind of alive. Sometimes his powers flare up even in his human form. It’s… disturbing to hear that he lost control of his powers while hurting someone, but it’s not unusual for his eyes or hair to change color. Especially if emotions are high.”

“You mean emotions being high makes him lose control?”

“Eh, not exactly. Ghosts are created through emotions. Ghosts are formed when someone dies with a lot of emotions attached to their death. That means ghosts tend to be pretty emotional, they feel things stronger than normal people and emotional pain is worse than any other kind. Emotional pain can even cause serious harm to our cores.” Phantom explained casually, as if they were talking about the weather.

That made sense. For the short time he’d known Danny he had noticed that the man seemed to feel emotions a lot more than others. He was still affected by killing the Joker despite being fine with the man's death, he flew into a blind rage when someone was going to hurt people he loved, one thing he’d noticed about Danny a long time ago was that he emoted so much more than others.

Though, Hood’s understanding of normal emoting was based on his family and they were... Probably not a good comparison for that. Either way, he liked that he could read Danny through his emotions that he had no problem displaying for anyone to see. It was refreshing for someone who hid behind a mask fifty percent of the time.

“So… if someone came back from the dead and… all they felt was… blinding rage… would that just be a normal ghost thing?” Fuck that sounded stupid.

Phantom tilted his head, considering. “Um. Depends I guess. I’m going to assume this is another ‘my friend’ situation. Do you mind if I check something real quick?” Thinking it was going to be like a phone or something, Hood nodded. “This will feel weird.” He didn’t expect the fucking ghost king to reach his hand into Hood’s chest and root around.

Hood let out a very undignified squeak as the feeling of someone poking around inside his chest overwhelmed his senses. Just as he was growing accustomed to the feeling and taking the time to examine Phantom’s face up close (Holy fuck his freckles were stars and they were glowing and when he bit his lip his fangs dug into it and this man had been flirting with Hood and he hadn’t been flirting back because of Da-) he felt the hand leave his chest and involuntarily exhaled.

“Okay, so- that’s… not great.” Phantom started, holding his chin in one hand in deep thought. “I think I know what will fix it so that’s good at least.”

“What’s wrong with me, doc? Give it to me straight, am I gonna live?” Hood asked sardonically.

Phantom rolled his eyes, amused. “I don’t know how, but you’ve been- for lack of a better word- infected with toxic ectoplasm. Not sure how, or even where you came across it but that stuffs nasty. Luckily the fix is easy enough. You need to be getting healthy ectoplasm- you aren’t going to find stuff good to fix what you’ve got going on in Gotham- But! Hanging around myself or someone like Danny Nightingale will help filter out the toxic stuff and replace it with a healthier version.”

Was that why he hadn’t been feeling the pit as strongly recently? He’d been to the manor willingly, he’d been feeling good- happy even, was that because he’d been hanging around Danny? If so, would he be able to hang around Danny more without having to explain himself? They did still need to have a conversation about what they’d talked about last time, but things had gotten busy and he hadn’t had the chance.

“Just tell Danny what I said and he won’t have a problem with you hanging around.” Phantom shrugged.

“I can’t just crash into the guy's life and make him fix me- that’s rude.” Hood growls. Who was Phantom to think he could just decide what Danny did and didn’t do? 

Giving Hood a hard look, Phantom repeated himself. “He won’t have a problem with you hanging around. He likes helping people.” He paused before thinking of something. “I’m not saying this as like, the king ordering one of his people to do something. I know Danny- personally. Not everyday a kid dies, comes back as half ghost, and becomes a teen vigilante who stops ghosts- my people- from disrupting humans’ lives. Obviously, I know Danny.”

Oh. Well that…. Kinda made sense actually. Obviously Phantom wouldn’t know every subject but if there was one subject who was keeping a bunch of other, more unruly, subjects in line, the king would start to take notice. “Like you know him or you know of him?” Hood asked.

“I know him, Hood. Is that good enough for you? Now let’s get any other questions out of the way, I wanted to enjoy our date before I have to go back.”

Hood pushed past the fact that Phantom had called this a date again (why would you push that aside you fucking dumbass a voice in the back of his head screamed, he’s hot, he’s interested in you, you’re single, what more could you fucking want?) and continued with the questions. “How’d you know to show up at the Daycare yesterday?”

“Danny obviously has one of my personal summoning cards.” Phantom shrugged. “He used it before tackling that scarecrow guy- which, by the way- your city’s rogues are fucking crazy.”

Letting out a genuine laugh, Hood agreed. “Yeah, they are.”

“Like I’ve dealt with so many weird things- but they’re ghosts with powers- scarecrow’s just a fucking weirdo! Thank god Joker’s gone cause I do not fuck with clowns.” Phantom held his hands up in a giant ‘X’.

But- wait…

“How did you know the fuckhead clown’s gone?”

Phantom froze for a millisecond. “Danny may have mentioned it.”

Danny mentioned it? The same Danny who said he didn’t want anyone to know about it? The same Danny who’d said he had barely slept since accidentally killing the Joker? He hadn’t realized that Danny was so close with the ghost king. It made a negative emotion boil in his stomach but he wasn’t sure why. Why would he be upset to learn that Danny had someone he was close to that he could tell about the terrible and traumatic things he’d gone through? 

That’s probably how Phantom knew he was talking about Danny earlier too- Danny told Phantom about beating the shit out of Miguel and Santiago’s sperm donor and the rage he felt. He told himself to be happy that Danny has someone to talk to- he and Phantom must be really close if they talked about things like murder. So why wasn’t he happy? 

“Hood?” Phantom prodded.

Snapping out of whatever daze he’d gone into, Hood focused on his date. “Just out of curiosity… did that fucker become a ghost?”

“No- fuck no.” Phantom shuddered. “He’s for sure in hell though, don’t worry, that guys never going to hurt anyone again- I’ve made sure of that.”

That made Jason feel a bit better. He tried to think of his next question but it seemed to be Phantom’s turn.

“Have you heard of the GIW, Hood?” The humor in his voice was gone, replaced with solemnity. Hood shook his head. “They are a branch of the American government whose goal is to capture, experiment on, and exterminate my people.”

“What. The. Fuck. What do you mean?” Hood growled deep enough to rival Batman.

Phantom fiddled with the sleeve around his tea cup. “I had to put strict conditions around my people visiting earth anymore because of what the GIW will do if they catch them. I didn’t know how to deal with them, I hoped… I’d hoped someone like the Justice League would see what was happening and step in before I had to. But they didn’t. And who suffers because of my patience? My people.

“I didn’t just call you here for a fun date.” Phantom offered him a smirk but it was far less playful than before. “I need help taking down the GIW before they hurt anymore of my people. If they had their way they would commit genocide with a smile and say they’d done it to better the world.”

Hood crushed his cup of coffee, spilling hot coffee onto his hands but he barely processed it. “So you need help bringing them to light?”

“No. What they’re doing is legal. I need it to be illegal and punished severely.”

“How is it legal?” Hood demanded. 

With a sigh, Phantom looked into the distance. “When I was a teenager, something called the Anti-Ecto-Acts was passed. It declares all beings who use or produce ectoplasm to be non-sentient and non-sapient beings, belonging to the government to be done with as they see fit. And they see fit to torture us.”

There was no way something like that had flown under the JL’s radar. There was no way it had flown under the BAT’S radar. Jason would have to talk to Tim and Oracle ASAP to dig up everything they could find on the GIW and these Anti-Ecto-Acts and get the fuck rid of them. Anyone who uses or produces ectoplasm would include Danny and- and him. The bats were going to be capital ‘P’ pissed. 

“I’ve never heard of them but I’ll get the bats and the JL on it immediately.” Hood promised. “Bats ain’t gonna be happy about this.”

Phantom gave him a small smile. “It’ll be nice to finally have some help. I- to be honest… I wasn’t sure when I was going to do anything about them. So many other things have been added to my plate recently and I kept pushing back the timeline to deal with them but… well frankly the attack last night has forced me to move things forward.”

“Why?” What about Scarecrow’s attack could possibly change the timeline for a government agency hellbent on committing genocide against ghosts?

Phantom bit his lip, Jason’s eyes drifting down to follow the motion before meeting his eyes again. Thank god for his helmet. “Well, apparently the attack was on the news. Everyone now knows that the daycare- Danny’s daycare- was attacked in Gotham. There are…” Phantom twisted his fingers anxiously before stilling and letting out a sharp sigh. “To put it bluntly, the GIW would like nothing more than to capture Danny again and have their way with him.”

Again? Despite Phantom’s presence, green seemed to seep into his vision. Hood felt his heartbeat pick up and heard his blood pounding in his ears. What had they done to Danny? He wanted to ask. He didn’t want to know. Who would want to hurt Danny? Danny who opened a daycare because he saw a need and filled it, who got mugged by a kid and offered to give the kid a safe place to live, Danny who’d died and used his death as a way to protect his town from ghosts.

“Not only is Danny in danger, but Santi and Miguel will be too. I can’t have that. So I’ve reached out to my team and alerted them to the situation. I’ll also be speaking with my council about this new development, but it would be a great help to have someone like Batman or Superman on our side.” Phantom rubbed a hand across his forehead tiredly.

Interesting how the straw that broke the camel's back was the danger posed to Santiago and Miguel. Hood also hadn’t missed how Phantom called Santiago, Santi, which seemed to be something only those he deemed close enough got to call him. Each passing comment painted a new picture of how close Danny and Phantom were and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Hood discarded the cup he’d thoroughly ruined and tried to shake out the coffee that had soaked into his glove. “Listen, Phantom, I promise you, there’s no way in hell Batman knew about any of this. I’ll tell him about this and he’ll light a fire under the JL and we will get this sorted. Or- you know, I could just kill every GIW agent out there and then… problem kind of solved.”

Phantom snorted. “While I wouldn’t mind that, the laws would still be a problem. And if you- someone with ectoplasm- killed them all it would be the opposite of helpful. But I’ll keep you in mind if I ever need someone dead.”

“You can keep me in mind for more than that-” he cut himself off before he could call the KING of the INFINITE REALMS ‘doll’. It didn’t matter though, the tone was clear in his voice; he was flirting.

Whipping around to face Hood full on, Phantom squinted. It was a long dragged out moment of confusion but not discomfort as Hood wondered what Phantom was staring at. “What else should I keep you in mind for, casanova? Cause I can think of quite a few things.” He looked Hood up and down, suggestively biting his lower lip and -wow, okay, his fangs were really digging in and Hood couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like if he dug right in-

Clearing his throat, Hood looked away- why was it so hot in his helmet? 

“Well, this has been lovely,” Phantom smirked, standing up. “But I’ve got some responsibilities to attend to and some explaining to do so I’ve got to head out. Let’s do this again sometime eh Mcdreamy? Call me.”

Before the ghost could disappear Hood grabbed his wrist. “I’ll summon you when I’ve spoken to Bats about it. We won’t let this happen to your people.”

Phantom offered a tender smile that almost reached his eyes. “Thank you.” With much less blinding light than before, Phantom disappeared, leaving Jason alone on a rooftop with a crumpled paper cup and a weight in his chest. That interaction at the end… Hadn’t that been exactly what he’d said to Danny the other day?

Oh.

Fuck.

Of course.

Hood couldn’t believe he’d been such and oblivious fucking idiot. The whole ghost thing, Danny having so much money, Phantom being a king, Danny coming to Gotham as a ‘favor’ for a friend,  Phantom saying the GIW was after Danny, Danny telling Phantom about the Joker, Phantom knowing about their flirting the other day (even if the flirting had been as Jason and not Hood)- it all made sense.

Danny Nightingale was dating Phantom the ghost king.

As he headed home for the day, Hood couldn’t help but feel a confusing amount of disappointment.

~~~~~~~~

Oh fuck- of course.

It made so much sense- Jesse had told him but he hadn’t believed her because why would he when what she was saying didn’t make any sense! But then the whole dying thing and the vibes were similar and the cookies! The cookies Jason had brought tasted so much like the ones Hood brought and it just makes so much sense that they’re dating!

Danny couldn’t believe his luck. The two hot men he’d been flirting with were already dating each other! Fucking Ancients- he’d never find someone at this rate! Just then a memory popped into his head.

Yeah one of them.

Woah- no no no Danny, time-out! You are not going to be in a throuple with the Red Hood and Jason- they probably weren’t even interested-

Well.

They had been flirting with him.

Technically Hood’s flirting had been with Phantom and Jason’s had been with Danny so maybe they were in an open relationship? 

No! He shook his head wildly. You’re way too busy for one boyfriend- there’s no universe in which you can handle two!

Though he would love to handle them. Ancients with Hood’s muscles and his thighs that could crush a watermelon and Jason’s eyes that couldn’t seem to decide if they were blue or green and both of their inclination towards leather and-

No! Bad Danny!

“You’ve got two kids to go home and explain your deadness too, stop drooling over taken men.” He grumbled to himself as he crossed the hallway and knocked on the boys’ door. Ancients, this was going to be a long conversation.

~~~~~~

“Told you he wasn’t human!” Santi shouted, pointing a finger at his brother.

Danny frowned, looking between the gloating and pouting boys. 

“I never said ‘e wasn’t not human! Jus’ didn’t care enough ta ask.” Miguel shrugged.

“Okay wait- stop.” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “You guys don’t… have any questions?”

“Like what?” They looked at each other and then him blankly.

“Like- I don’t know! I’m kind of dead, kind of alive, I’m the king of ghosts- you don’t have any questions?”

Danny had come back to find the boys sticking post-it notes to the wall with different theories about what had happened to Danny, who was at fault, and when he’d be back. There were some pretty wild theories and ‘is dead?’ was among them somehow, but not in the way that was true. They thought when he got summoned he might have died. He was grateful that they didn’t break down in panic but also confused at the composure they’d kept.

“C’mon man, you wouldn’t DIE die on us, I ain’t worried.” Miguel shrugged uncomfortably.

He’d swallowed back the tears that threatened to formulate if he thought too deeply about Miguel’s sudden trust for Danny and moved on. But now they were just bickering back and forth about his identity and what it meant.

“Who cares? I was right!” Santi jumped up and down before freezing. “Does this make us princes?”

Danny looked between the two of them, not daring to breathe for fear of Miguel getting upset at the implication.

“Yeah, does it?” Miguel asked quietly, not meeting Danny’s eyes.

“Uh, well.” Danny swallowed. “If you’d… If you’d like to be my sons then- yes. But you don’t have to. I would never expect either of you to want to be my kids or to make it legal or anything like that and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“Old man.” 

He kept rambling. “I know you both have issues with your bio dad and I understand if you never want to have a dad again, I mean that’s what I did and I’m doing fine! I mean, I’m not *fine* after everything my dad did- but you know what I mean!”

“Old man.”

“And really- it wouldn’t change anything if you said you never wanted to think of me like that- I mean I kind of think of you as my kids but not in the way that I’d introduce you as my sons or anything, I’d never cross that boundary! Miguel made it clear that he didn’t want me acting like a parent so I’ve been trying to behave like a cool older brother but I’m not sure how I’m doing because I’m not one and I don’t have one and-”

“Old man!” Miguel shouted, cutting off Danny’s embarrassing ramble. Santi and Danny whipped around to look at the usually quiet and reserved boy. He met their stares with uncertainty. “I already said you were dad-shaped.”

And it was like someone filled the room with pure ectoplasm as Danny registered what he was saying. Forget cloud nine, Danny had far surpassed the troposphere and landed somewhere in space where he felt the giddiest and he couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed across his face. “Are you… are you sure, Miguel? ‘Cause I’d like to make it legal if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Yeah whatever, do what ya want old man, ain’t gonna change nothin’. You already take care of us.” He shrugged casually and left the living room, likely trying to hide from the emotions he’d expressed.

Santi watched him go, eyes wide. “I think you broke my brother.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Danny covered his face. Fuck he didn’t know what he was doing. Guess he had to call his friends and tell them they were right. He was a dad.

Prev. Next

[rhiannonsknife]

Just wanted to maybe request an addition to the Stockholm!Rhiannon and raise you Yandere!Rhiannon.

Rhiannon, who kidnapped you not because you witnessed a murder but because she needs you. Maybe she wants you to watch her kill someone, maybe it gives her a rush?

She keeps you tied up, and maybe one day you call her crazy, or say that she needs help and she gets so angry that she kills someone and then blames you for it? Convincing you to stay because it's all your fault that she killed that innocent person and look at what you've done to her.

I love your writing so so much, could I maybe be 🍁 anon?

— warnings: yandere!rhiannon. she’s insane in this one, guys. kidnapping. canon typical violence. obsessive!rhiannon.

rhiannon didn’t kidnap you out of revenge or because you witnessed something you weren’t supposed to -she kidnapped you because you’re hers. in her mind, it’s not even a question of morality; it’s a mere necessity. she didn’t even have a proper reason to take you, except her growing obsession. you happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, bumping into her at night, after one of her kills. you couldn’t have known, the blood hidden under her rain coat.

there was no reasons that would justify the fact that she had to have you that night, only the adrenaline from the kill and the need to be yours the way you’re hers already.

she keeps you tied up at first, but not in the garage where she keeps most of her victims (you’re not a victim to her, after all). somewhere personal, somewhere that feels like her. she wants you to associate your surroundings with her presence. she tries her bedroom, at first, but the way you stay up half the night, exhausting yourself by banging the back of your head against the bed frame to make some noise soon pisses her off too much to keep you there. so, she settles for the living room instead.

when she does untie you (on good days), she’s extra vigilant, watching your every move. you can feel her eyes boring into your back no matter where you are; whether she has ran you a bath to clean yourself up or allowed you to move through the space because you stopped feeling your legs from all the sitting.

after a while of your unwilling stay (she refuses to call it what it really is.), rhiannon starts introduce you to her violent nature, not just as an observer but as an accomplice in her mind. she wants you to watch her “work” because it’s the ultimate expression of who she is.

by then, you’ve obviously put two and two together and realized that she’s the killer on the loose that everyone’s been looking for. you’ve also noticed that she really seems to have some fucked up kind of soft spot for you: in all the time you’ve been here, rhiannon has not once laid hands on you (except for when she first took you). she’s been surprisingly gentle, instead.

that doesn’t make it any less terrifying when she returns home to you exhilarated, her clothes stained with blood, her breath heavy. she smiles wide, kneeling in front of you to explain in graphic detail how much she enjoyed it. “i did it for you. doesn’t that mean something?”

the first time you try to ignore it entirely, to draw your eyes away from the crimson that’s staining her clothes and is still dripping from her hands when she runs them through your hair. yet, when it becomes a frequent occurrence that she confesses her kills to you, you can’t hold it together forever.

the first time you call rhiannon crazy, her expression freezes, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. she doesn’t lash out at you immediately, but later that night, she returns with blood on her hands all over again -more than usual.

“you did this,” she accuses, her voice trembling with faux heartbreak. “you made me feel like i wasn’t enough, and i needed to prove myself. don’t you see? this is all your fault”

it’s the first, yet by far not the last time rhiannon does this: she plays the victim often, lamenting how “difficult” you’re making things. she tries to convince you that the outside world could never compare to all that she’s capable of doing for you.

“you’ve seen what i’m capable of. do you think anyone else would protect you like that?” she asks while serving you dinner she’s cooked.

through all of her madness, that soft spot for you is still palpable: she’ll sit beside you while you sleep, stroking your hair, whispering how much you mean to her or surprise you with gifts she’s stolen from her victims -a necklace, a watch, something she thinks will make you feel special. “look what i got for you. do you like it? say you like it”

if you ever dare to defy her, though, she becomes cold and calculating. she might isolate you for hours or days, refusing to speak to you while you remain tied up, just to make you beg for her attention. on the flip side, when you comply or show her even the slightest kindness, she becomes overwhelmingly affectionate, showering you with praise. “see? that’s how it’s supposed to be. just us”

any mention of someone else, anyone who isn’t part of this imaginary ‘us’ rhiannon has created (whether a friend, family member, or stranger) sends her into a jealous spiral. “why are you thinking about them when i’m right here? what do they have that i don’t?” she’ll start making veiled threats about cutting off any potential ties you have to the outside world. “if they cared so much, they’d already be looking for you!”

at this point you’ve learned to tread carefully, where a single wrong word can send her spiraling into either rage or despair. and yet, as she crouches in front of you after another kill, her eyes wide with the kind of devotion that suffocates, you feel something snap inside you.

“why are you doing this?” the question tumbles out of you before you can stop it.

rhiannon’s lips part, surprise flashing across her face. clearly, she hadn’t expected you to speak. then, she leans in a little closer, her breath warm against your face.

“because you’re mine,” she says simply, her smile curling into something sharp, like this is the most logical conclusion. “you’ll see that eventually. you have to”

as she brushes her bloodstained fingers down your cheek, the realization sinks in that she’s not just convincing you. she’s convincing herself of this, too.

[ideasnstuff]

Not an idea but a short thing nevertheless.

One of my favourite skk scenes.

A description.

Looking at Chuuya at that precise moment had become extremely awkward.

Well, in reality it had always been embarrassing to look at Chuuya, when the boy shone as brightly as a blazing flame.

Looking at Chuuya had always been simultaneously embarrassing and a source of inexplicable irritation.

But now... now that he looked at the boy in front of him... the one taller, now felt small.

Blood bubbled violently in the pale veins, producing human heat that Dazai was not even aware of its existence.

It contrasted, therefore, with the cooled air of the light and melancholy night.

The previous conversation had been done casually, in an attempt to calm Chuuya, who - Dazai had realized - hadn't needed any reassurance.

But seeing the face covered in pungent stains of dried blood on the white skin, writhing in an expression of irritation and frustration, it had been enough to confirm Nakahara Chuuya's usual state.

The boy was fine, as he always was.

And Dazai, faced with so much willpower, so much resistance, stronger than the burden of fate, could only feel a certain respect.

Looking at the boy had become wrong. Looking at someone who had been through hell on earth was extremely shameful.

But Chuuya didn't seem fazed by this, speaking and treating Dazai, a mere mortal, as if nothing had happened.

Who would have thought, that the annoying boy and arrogant, had become the remedy for Dazai's eternal and inherent boredom.

Surely, a year ago, Dazai wouldn't have guessed such a thing.

Even though from the first day she had laid eyes on the boy, she had felt something different, something protective and... necessary... he'd never thought that would be enough to continue playing the game that people called life.

And for that very reason, Dazai looked with different eyes - or rather, with his only eye - with a feeling of admiration, respect and some inferiority towards Chuuya.

He felt small next to the boy.

Oh how his heart beat with atrocity against the fragile ribs...

He felt almost alive, the wind passing between them, like a caress from a mother's hand that neither had ever felt...

It was strange, but a pleasant and exciting strangeness.

So when Chuuya - altruistic and carefree Chuuya - had shown signs of wanting to sacrifice himself - the only person Dazai would eventually feel something for after his imminent death - had shown signs of his sacrifice - Dazai felt the need to at least try to stop that madness.

More for his own sake, that for the city's sake.

He knew he was selfish, but he couldn't let the flame that still burned, albeit a little less than usual, go out.

But... and so he told him what he felt, feelings camouflaged by excessive logic.

Chuuya had looked at him, eyes gradually larger with each passing second, the storm looming over his captivating iris and his features more surprised than he had planned.

Would he be... surprised?

Why would he be surprised?

In order to find out why, Dazai took a moment to look at him.

A mistake.

A big mistake.

Chuuya's eyes pierced into his soul as if trying to see behind the superficial layer that Dazai covered himself with.

Even with the layer of baggage in his eye.

Terrifying.

Absolutely terrifying.

But... so... magnetic.

It was the pair of eyes that had made him want to live a year ago.

Stormy, confusing, misty... beautiful...

And with his face dressed in pain and chaos... Dazai thought that Chuuya was... even more fascinating.

And as a source of attraction and interest, Dazai had to look away, feeling a certain heat in the cheeks, cooled by the night air.

Chuuya didn't look away, his gaze seemed to see everything, revealing everything.

The visible and invisible.

And Dazai felt even smaller and more naked, stumbling over the words and feelings implied.

He knew nothing would change Chuuya's decision, but he didn't want to be the one who got in Chuuya's way.

Just that once... he allowed himself to open his heart, because... someone as deserving and fascinating as Chuuya Nakahara deserved it.

He deserved honesty and Dazai could give it to him.

It was the least he could do.

And at the end of it all, with the boy asleep in his arms, Dazai finally allowed himself to release the breath he had suppressed.

A small, relieved smile appeared on his lips, looking down at Chuuya in his arms...

He could say, now for sure, with honesty and a delicacy unknown to him...

"Sleep now Chuuya"

And Chuuya, like the obedient dog he was, or out of extreme exhaustion...

Stayed still.

Chuuya was safe in those arms-

Dazai's arms.

His relatively misty eyes met Dazai's single eye before falling asleep in his arms... making Dazai suppress the emotional surprise that had invaded him, as soon as Chuuya had turned his head against his chest.

Peaceful and quiet, so... Chuuya-unlike.

But he had trusted Dazai.

The guy that nobody in the mafia trusted.

But Chuuya... Chuuya did.

(Dazai convinced himself that it was because he had no other choice and not because of the trust he had in him-)

But either way... Chuuya was lying in Dazai's arms, sleeping in his arms, using Dazai's chest as a pillow... and Dazai fed the fantasy that at least Chuuya had-

Chuuya had trusted him.

Chuuya had trusted his life to him.

He couldn't let him down.

He laughed a little, a laugh that was more desperate and relieved than funny.

(He ended up leaving Chuuya on the ground, after a brief caress on his bloody face, cleaning it with the sleeve of his coat.)

[isaacthedruid]

i wrote this weird little zombie poem/short story and for some reason my brain was supplying buck and eddie from 9-1-1 as the characters, so here’s the buddie cut of this stupid little story (trigger warnings of the normal zombie related media stuff<3)

my best friend died on thursday– car crash.

it’s saturday now but don’t cry for him, he was alive a few hours later. 

my best friend died on thursday– but i think he came back wrong.

i still don’t understand what happened, 

buck was in the hospital, in a coma and dead to the world. 

i was sat there with him, holding his limp hand in mine, 

his girlfriend (now ex-girlfriend) didn’t have the heart to show. 

he looked so small and pale, covered in bandages from head to toe. 

then his heart stopped, they couldn’t get it pumping again. 

they dragged me out of the room, to let them work. 

thursday, 1:17pm.

thursday, 3:34pm, buck called me. 

i hadn’t left the hospital, i thought it was some sick fucking joke. 

“my best friend just died, how fucking dare you-” i remember yelling into the phone. 

that certainly turned some heads but then he was standing there, 

my fucking dead best friend, in a hospital gown with bandages hung loosely off of him. 

what the fuck– i thought i was dreaming–

some fucked up grief induced hallucination but nurses were scrambling to help him. 

the person from the morgue was running down the hallway after him. 

all of them ushered him away, into an exam room. 

he was making a scene, apparently i was too. 

what the actual fuck- 

no, no, no- his heart stopped, all brain activity had died, he died-

anyways, i passed out. (thursday, i don’t know what time.)

i must have hit my head pretty hard on the way down

and there he was, sat like i had been earlier, holding my hand. 

his hand was cold, that pink that always flushed his skin hadn’t come back yet. 

the nurses had given him some clothes and me, a bandage for my head. 

“you died, buck..” i said.

“it didn’t stick,” he shrugged. 

they wanted to keep him for observation but he disagreed, seeing as he was perfectly fine. 

every scan was clear, even the random ones they pulled out of their asses to keep him longer.

my best friend who had just died, who earlier was more bandage than skin, was fine. 

i don’t get it but they discharged the both of us, 

we uber’d back to his place, he wouldn’t let me sleep on the couch, 

i can’t remember his reasoning but we shared his bed– i held him in my arms.

(we cuddled, not that either will actually admit it.)

friday, 8;13am, he was gone when i woke up. 

i found him downstairs, doubled over the toilet. 

the kitchen, a mess and food strewn out across the counters.

the ground beef (we were planning to cook for dinner) was torn into–

like an animal had got to it. he had eaten it, my brain supplied.

“don’t throw that away!” he said, wiping the bile from his mouth. 

“did you eat this?” i asked, the beef held frozen over the trash.

“i- you know the answer to that.” 

“why?” i sighed, rubbing at my temples and setting the half eaten- jesus- 

i sat the half eaten thing of ground beef back where i found it.

my best friend looked at it, pink and raw and ground, and then back to me, 

i wasn’t sure what buck was exactly getting at with that look. 

he scooped his fork into the beef, not breaking eye contact with me and took a bite. 

i nearly vomited but he seemed fine, unaffected,

which confused me given the initial vomiting on his part.

“what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“what? i’m hungry,” he said with his mouthful.

“so, some raw meat was your choice of a nice breakfast?” 

“i cooked some eggs but they made me hurl.” 

“are you fucking serious, buck, and this? this isn’t making you sick?” 

“nope.” he answered matter-of-factly. 

friday, 7;46pm, he broke up with his girlfriend. 

his girlfriend of three years, the woman he was going to propose to next month. 

it’s kinda understandable as she didn’t visit him in the hospital when he literally died. 

other than that, the breakup came out of nowhere. broken up just like that.

she’d come to check on us– no, come to check on him. 

(we had an understanding. she didn’t like me and i didn’t like her either.) 

(she always said i was jealous of her which… i can’t fight her on.)

he was angry at her, rightfully so, and things got heated. 

she’d cheated on him, she revealed post-breakup. i shouldn’t have been listening–

but it was kinda hard to ignore when they were screaming at each other

and then she was screaming bloody murder. 

i ran into the kitchen, she was on the ground flailing and he was on top of her-

holy fucking shit, my best friend fucking bit her! 

he tore right through her neck and gnawed at her flesh. 

what the actual fuck was happening? holy fucking shit, this was actually happening. 

i pushed him off of her but she’d already bled out. 

“do you mind?” he asked, blood smeared across his face. coating his nose and chin.

“yes. i do mind! you- holy fucking shit, buck! are you crazy?” 

“i was hungry,” he said meekly. “also, she cheated on me and i-”

 “you didn’t have to eat her!” 

saturday, 1:02am, we buried the body in a field out in the middle of nowhere. 

we buried a body in the middle of nowhere.

no, we buried the bits and pieces that my best friend decided he didn’t want to eat.

what the actual fuck is my life turning into? 

“this better not become a habit of yours.” i sighed, dropping my shovel. 

“and what if it does?” buck smirked. 

“i’m not helping you bury more body parts.” 

“oh really?” 

“really.” i said, lying through my teeth.

it’s him and i til the end of the line, i’m his accomplice in this

and i wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“so, are you zombie?” i asked, starting up the truck. 

“i think so.” he replied, looking out the window. “are you okay with that?” 

“are you still, y’know, you?”

“i think so.” he repeated.

“then yeah…” i laughed, awkwardly as i often do. “as long as you don’t eat me.” 

“i wasn’t planning on it.” 

“i’m glad.” 

“besides, it would be kinda mean to eat you before i take you on a date.” 

“what-” 

“i’m serious, eddie.” 

“oh.” i blanched, “i’d like that.” 

oh. oh- oh my god? what the fuck is happening?

it’s not every day you get to bury a body with your best friend 

or burn evidence or scrub the kitchen down from top to bottom 

because he happened to decide he was craving human flesh. 

saturday, 7:30am, my boyfriend after a long conversation, took me out for breakfast. 

he was full, he’d just eaten an entire person minus the gallbladder and some bones

because apparently he’s like a cat who won’t eat every part of the mouse. 

i still don’t understand how this happened, he died,

became a honest to god zombie, he ate his cheating girlfriend, 

we buried her body, lied to the police and now, 

here, we are getting breakfast. 

how the fuck did i manage to get a boyfriend out of this…

it’s been a long two days.