#just having fun and angst

[asteriasfallingstarsandtears]

A very rough piece of when Graha left the 8th Calamity Timeline and brought himself and the Tower to the First and a chance meeting between worlds. I've taken some liberties and this is just a first draft.

Lost in the Sea

2427 words

G'raha x WoL references, Azemet references

G'raha, Hydaelyn, referenced named WoL, referenced Hades(Emet-Selch)

CW: Black Rose death, grief, threats of harm

It had worked, in a sense. G'raha Tia couldn't deny that the Tower and him had left the Source, the world he had been born in. The Tycoon had been a superb creation, the last invention of Cid and Nero before their passing, and realised by Bigg’s descendant. The Tower had also been fantastic, he was fairly certain that the fact he and it hadn't been completely destroyed was because it had formed a stasis around itself again.

The royal lineage and the Tower just survive above all. There were no more heirs. 

Just G'raha, and the Tower, and they were both trapped horribly in the Aetherial Sea.

It should have worked, there shouldn't have been this stop, the Rift and the Sea were so entwined, to go through one was to risk the other. 

And so, he sat at the door, horribly locked against everyone (and him) once more. Only this time he hadn't done it.

He slammed his fist against his leg, cursing himself. It was too much, he was the thinnest of Allag's bloodline left, and while the Tower listened to him, he didn't have the power to supplement it. He had been the weak point in this whole affair, centuries of work and effort, and he had failed before even starting.

There was a knock at the door and he frowned, believing it his imagination.

Another. “What in the world?”

He stood and laid his hand against the door, ordering it to open with a force of incredible will. If he was going mad, then let the Sea take him, he wouldn't be able to do the job anyway.

The doors slowly slid open and revealed a tall pale woman clothed in brilliant white robes. He stared up at her in disbelief, having to crane his head up considerably to meet her gaze. Had he ever seen anyone this tall before? She towered over even the tallest people he had known, making Biggs and Nero look like they were his height and he looked absolutely tiny compared to her.

What did one say to what must be an avatar of death or the delusion of his failing mind? Hello? What did it matter, he had clearly lost his mind and the Sea would claim him soon. 

“Hello, I'd offer to let you in, but it's rather a mess inside.” Her face shifts from placid peacefulness to full mirth, laughing boisterously as though he had said the most clever of jests. He stared at her, utterly perplexed at whatever his mind had conjured in these final moments. “If you don't mind, you're welcome inside, I guess?”

Her laughter quieted down into a giggle before she collected herself and stepped within the Tower’s bounds. She looked around as though she was someone who had been here before and was reacquainting herself with it. He supposed if she was some sort of guide to the afterlife it was possible she had, many people had died in the Tower when Allag fell. 

“I hope you don't find me terribly rude.” He began, trying to catch her attention. “But can I ask what you're doing here? I know what I'm doing here, but I don't know how anyone else can survive out there. And who are you?”

She stood there as though she hadn't heard him and then gave herself a little shake before turning back to him. “Forgive me, I was remembering someone I once knew. She lived in this Tower and died here, but I was here to catch her before she was lost, thankfully.”

“Uh…” This was a bizarre conversation and he felt completely out of sorts, as though he was supposed to know what she talked about but didn't. “I don't think anyone has died here since we opened the Tower the first time, and before that it would have been millenia. I'm sorry for your loss?” 

She smiled sadly. “It was, but that was then, and she has been lost for good this time.” Her face hardened as she looked at him and then knelt down so her face was on his level. He started at the irritation and anger on her face and the glowing prismatic blue eyes she had. He had seen those twice before, different colours, but so similar. He became very afraid, this woman had to be an Ascian. “And I have you to thank for that, G'raha Tia, heir of Allag.”

He swallowed heavily, not sure what to say. Had they learned of their plan to save the Warrior of Light? To stop the Calamity before it started? To undo the tragedy written in the Star? Would she destroy him and the Tower?

“Now tell me, little one, why I shouldn't throw you out of this Tower and condemn your soul to the deepest pits of the Underworld for your transgressions?” She seemed to grow bigger in front of him, or he grew smaller, a child being chastened. He knew who she spoke of, Azemya preserve him, she was talking about the very person he was trying to save, to unwrite her death and subsequent fall from Light from history's uncaring pages.

He briefly saw a flash of the last moment he saw her, horrible gurgles in her chest as she coughed up dark congealed blood and poisonous gas. The death she had been denied two centuries before by the man she had called Hades catching up with her in his darkest moment.

The moment he had failed Hades’ test, when he had looked back when he was told not to. He was told to not look until they had both left the city. He should have trusted her to tell him when she was safe, but he had been so excited, so relieved to have righted this wrong that he had believed whoever had tapped him on the shoulder and said she was there.

He had looked behind him.

She was still within the old gate of Garlemald city, the last barrier to cross.

And she had died 

Horribly.

He knelt down before her, pressing his head down against the cold stone flooring of the Tower.

“I don't deserve your mercy, only that I am trying to fix what I broke.” His voice is small, cracking with grief as he watched her die over and over in his mind. The guilt that had eaten him for two full years since that day, since he had buried himself in his work with Biggs and readied himself for his own sacrifice. “Please, I deserve to die, but I need to continue.”

The woman's face peers at him for horrible long seconds before it softens and she pats his head gently. “She told me she trusted you and what you planned, and so will I.”

“How do you…? How did she…?” He didn't know what to say, Mina had died in the ruins of Garlemald that Hades had made his own well before G'raha had returned to the Tower and learned of the time travel plan from Biggs. “But she's dead, she can't have known. I didn't know.”

She tilts her head curiously. “Is she? Lost, certainly, but none of us ever truly die. Even your own soul, were you to rejoin the Sea now, it would merely rest and remake itself in preparation of rebirth. But our souls, those who are beyond the cycle of death, we do not end so easily. There are certain souls who do not return to the Sea if they do not wish them to, and now, hers is likewise removed from the cycle of life and death.”

His heart sank. What he had done has irrevocably destroyed her chances of rebirth? 

“I'm trying to prevent it from happening.” He whispered, his heart being ground into even finer shards as he imagined the torment her soul must be in. “I couldn't stop it there, but I can try and stop it from ever happening in any world, in any timeline.”

“Of course you are, she told me you would, so I waited and watched, wondering if it would be this time or next time. Normally by now I would have given up on a timeline but this time…” she paused, looking him over thoughtfully. “This time, I'm glad I waited. The pieces were right, the Eighth Calamity had occurred, the Crystal Tower was occupied, Hades had captured her soul. I knew it had to be this time, it had to be the timeline she told me of.” She shook her head. “I would that I could have reached out to her, but Hades was too thorough in trapping her and breaking our bond.”

“Your bond?” His mind raced, trying to remember who she had a bond with. A horrible idea crossed his mind, but surely not. She didn't look like a Goddess, like he had always imagined one to look, or like the artwork of all Gods and Goddesses he had ever seen. 

The corner of her lips twitch in amusement and he peers closer at her. He cannot deny she appears as a woman, a very, very tall woman, but a woman nonetheless, as though someone had taken the template or a hyur and made it very, very large. 

But she had the same kind of eyes as Hades did and as Mina’s eyes had been turning into. 

What did it mean? Why did she have the same features as the Ascians he had come to know?

“Do you know who I am yet?” She asked gently.

“I don't know how it's possible.” 

Her form flickered, the woman turning into something larger and more impressive. He had the hazy vision of flowing lines of fabric, hair and crystalline wings before she resumed the form she had first appeared as. 

“This is really quite ingenious, the others don't give you enough credit. They never did, for all you carry the spark of what we were, and the ability to grow beyond us, but they only see you as broken and dull.” She looks around, shaking her head sadly. “I'll say that Hades did create something beautiful, he was always good at making such things. A shame that he turned it to such destructive purposes. If he had only worked with you mortals for good…” 

She turned back to him. “I am Hydaelyn, G'raha Tia, though I come to you as I once was.” She laid a hand on his head and he felt healing warmth and light spread through him, imbuing him with hope and purpose. “I said I wouldn't interfere, but it is imperative you complete your task, and I wished to meet you, to help you, to guide you to the First Reflection where the fate of your world will be determined. If you can succeed there, I will know mankind is ready, and in being ready, the Star will be saved.”

“It seems so hopeless here. I'm trapped, I failed to bring the Tower through the Rift to the First.” 

She laughs again, mirthful once more. “Only because I asked the Tower to wait.”

“You did what?” It had worked? He hadn’t failed, Hydaelyn herself had reached out from the Aetherial Sea and plucked him and it from their travels. “But why?”

“I wanted to know the one she spoke of.” She smiled. “I recognized your soul, you know, I may not have Hades’ eyes, but after so many long eons in the Sea, I have come to recognize those who resonate most with hers in every lifetime.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Then the scholars are right, we reincarnate?”

“In a sense. Whatever form you wear, you are as you were once, but that is a story for another day.” She peered back out the open door and gave a soft sigh. “My time is nearing, I will need to abandon this timeline now, and I will follow you to the next.”

“What?” 

She smiled and patted his head soothingly. “Worry not, the people here are not abandoned, I have left contingency plans in every one I have left. The next one must succeed, G’raha Tia, or else there will be no more.”

“I don’t even know where to start.” The task had been daunting enough, but to know this might be the last time he could ever try? The weight of responsibility was crushing. If he failed here, would it mean the end to those he had left behind? “She may not even know me in this one, how can I get her to trust me?”

“The only certainty I can give is that you will know what to do, even bereft of the memories of this meeting.” A gentle warmth began to spread through him and he felt as though he was slowly drifting off to sleep. “I’m sorry, I cannot risk Hades knowing that I have a hand in this. You will have a very long century ahead of you sweet boy, in which you will fight with everything you have.” A pause as he slumped to the ground, eyes struggling to remain open. “You will believe you passed out during the spell but it will be successful and you will be on the First where you will gather the survivors. Do not give up, no matter how terrible it seems.”

When he woke he hissed as pervasive light struck his eyes from the open door of the Tower. He had the feeling he was forgetting something but he couldn’t remember what as he stood, stumbling towards the foreign world outside of the Tower. He shaded his eyes as he gazed outwards, marvelling at the strange scene before him.

“Purple trees aren't what I expected.” He chuckled, laying a hand against the Tower. “Thank you, we made it.” There was a gathering crowd of people outside the Tower who stared at him and it in apprehension. “Hello! I’ve come from far away, can anyone tell me what has happened?”

And so began his journey as what the people came to call the Crystal Exarch. A long, lonely journey of a hundred years in which he and the Tower fought to survive in the barren aether of this Reflection. He met friends and companions over the years, withdrawing further and further into himself as he bound his body and soul closer to the Tower.

Until finally, it was almost time, the two worlds slowly coming together to match once more, when the conditions were right for the Reflection to rejoin… or heal.

And he intended to heal it.

[hinamie]

spiraling

[egophiliac]

What do you like about the Diasomnia boys if I may ask?

I always love hearing about the different reasons people enjoy characters.

I mean, c'mon. he has split custody over Sebek okay

also, Lilia in particular has maybe the best timeskip character development of all time

[jedi-starbird]

Palpatine: My boy, Master Kenobi is lying to you!

Anakin: ?...yeah? He does that? Lying is Obi-Wan's favourite sport. Bant told me that he was dropped on his head by Master Qui-Gon when he was a child and Master Qui-Gon was really tall, so the fall shook loose some things in his brain and now Obi-Wan is allergic to giving straight answers. It took me 3 years to figure out his favourite colour. and his birthday. 5 to figure out that he's allergic to shellfish. I once told a restaurant that Obi-Wan can't have shrimp and he told me to "stop giving information to the enemy". I've made a game of it really.

Palpatine: *muttering under his breath* ok try using shrimp next time

Anakin: what?

Palpatine: Nothing!

[courfee]

17 December 1975 / 15 May 1976

[rendevok]

“Take my hand” a comic for NaruMitsu Week 2023

day 1 - lies & secrets - 2 - 3 - 4

[ghosty-scribblings]

Okay I am just gonna throw something out because I got to thinking about and what is this blog for if not to yell into the void?

Danny gets hired as a janitor at the Daily Planet. It's just a job, something to make money and not clash schedules with his Metopolis Community College classes. But while working there he meets this reporter who is definitely also not fully human.

Does danny care? Nah. Not causing problems. None of his business. Not his circus not his monkeys.

But imagine the hijinks.

Clark? Initially confused but also glad at meeting someone so chill? One story about the ecto-weenies later and he has to know more. Let these two goobers bond over "what is my life" and "ya got a little not normal right there." This Danny guy is just a chill civilian friend he doesn't have to hide from.

And Danny? Staying-in-his-lane and sleep-deprived-college-studenting so hard he doesn't even realize his fellow not-baseline-human friend is Superman. Clark is just his friend who is also trying to be Normal.

[mobius-m-mobius]

#always the optimist 🥰

Loki S2 Anniversary x Episode 3 - “1893”

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

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

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[zu-is-here]

Happy birthday to the boy who changed the fate★

Axel [10/29] & Eve by @ari-cuno

Anko by groovygladiatorsheep

Crazy Lace by clownyclowns

Esther by orange-dreamzer

Flicker by bluepallilworld

[strawberri-draws]

"Innocence died screaming, Honey ask me, I should know. I slithered here from Eden; Just to sit outside your door"

-From Eden, Hozier

aka: au where they grow old in the dungeon together in their monster forms.

[marimeeko]

I'm back with more for that one post by @dailytogachako (Himiko Toga lived, went undercover, dyes and cut her hair and doesn't use her Quirk for murder and continues to admire Ochako/uravity from afar because love)

Plz help this is becoming an entire ass comic lmao

404 no frame found, but suddenly the train stops and people move, and Himiko gets off the train amongst the crowd, just seconds after Ochako notices her

Ochako chases mystery girl off the train, but it's crowded and she quickly loses her in a sea of people. (Could she solve this by using her Quirk to float above? Yes, but one, would draw too much attention, and if its really Himiko then she wouldn't want that, and 2...

She stops, because what is she even doing? There's no way it could be HER. ....right? )

Maybe part 2 later bc I have more in me but need a break lol

++additional notes: Himiko has an URAVITY Keychain and what I attempted to make of a Froppy Keychain as well.

Ochako is wearing her hair in a Himiko inspired bun!

Ochako has a small heart tattooed on her wrist....it's for Himiko, to always remind her of her, and what Ochako fights for in her work.

Cute little gloves prevent Ochako from accidentally using Quirk while she is out and about.

As I said before, Himiko dyed her hair black, cut it, straightens it as needed(though there's still always a stubborn little Stick-up piece!) Braids to frame her face differently than her usual look, pierced her ears because why not? Darker eye contacts to hide eye color. Face mask to hide the cutest smile in the world!

:') it's all good, my brain is just rotten with these two

[proxycrit]

Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[magicpiano]

I have seen a few DCxMarvel dimension travel fics, and quite a few of them are of them are Peter Parker post-blip. Which gives me a crack fic idea: everyone who got snapped ended up in the DC universe. Yes, all of them.

The current world population is around eight billion, so half of that would be 4 billion... Yeah that would cause so so so many problems. But the DC universe is used to crazy shit.

Obviously there would be a sudden influx of "new" heroes and villains but with absolutely no context it is hard to figure out who is who.

Batman immediately trying to make contingency plans for all these new heroes and villains as well as figure out their civilian identities but this is very difficult because literally no records exist yet.

Magic users from both worlds team up, but I think they were still unable to fix it, the infinity stones were just too powerful. Also I think Dr. Strange and Constantine can't stand each other.

While I am at it, Wonder Woman and Loki would probably hate each other too. DC is more Greek but it has had their own version of Norse mythology, so maybe they are the same and have beef?

They would struggle to feed and house that many new people, but getting them jobs and integrating them into society would be hard too. And good luck proving anything anyone says. "You swear you have a law degree from Harvard? Okay I guess."

Do doubles exist? Yeah a lot of people probably don't have an alternate universe double, but it stands to reason some do. How do you deal with having a new kind-of twin? Or a dead friend or relative coming back, but different? Or even someone you never knew/doesn't exist in this world insisting they are family.

Some au double ideas I have seen people toss around are: Dick Grayson as Richard Parker, Kara Danvers as Carol Danvers, Steve Trevor as Steve Rogers, and Slade Wilson as/being somehow related to Wade Wilson, but I am sure there are other fun ideas out there too.

The snap didn't just affect humans/earth! So other planets are having the same problems.

Then randomly, five years later, just when people were getting used to the change, they all disappear again without warning. This causes as many problems as the original appearance did.

[angee1011]

I love pjo fandom because we are watching this show and people are like “wow these kids’ parents sure do suck”

And we are just like “✨yes they do✨ isn’t it great ✨”

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.