#just. being born a kind heart in an unusually cruel world.

[sailing-ever-west]

it's not really what happens in canon as far as I can tell but I'm rotating the idea that when Chopper joins the crew and starts desperately people-pleasing and allowing himself to suffer thinking that's what it takes to be accepted and loved, something in Sanji goes "O h ." and he starts making an effort to show Chopper very clearly that the love from this crew is not conditional. and maybe a little bit (a lot), he's saying it all to make himself believe it, too.

[rdr2gifs]

''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

[yukiblob]

Name:Ziya

Height: 5’0

Birthday: March 12th

Age: 18

Magic: Plant magic

Occupation: Magic Knight

Squad: Golden Dawn

Birth place : unknown foreign country

Background:

Ziya was born in a foreign land. When he was a baby he was forcefully taken away by invaders in his homeland and was taken to a testing facility owned by these attackers. Since childhood he was sadly treated poorly being used for cruel experiments to enhance magic power. At age 14, he managed to escape from the facility and with the help of his new modified power (and cute forest friends :D) he has been able to live free and experience what it’s like to be a clover citizen.

Personality:

Ziya is a kindhearted soul who cares for all creatures. He’s always there for his squad mates (even though they’re never there for him ). He tends to keep to himself and is usually in the garden area of the Golden Dawn. He’s sometimes a little forgetful so a simple reminder will help greatly! He also gives out great advice! Anyone with issues always goes to him for some wisdom! He rarely looses his temper like RARELY, in fact nobody’s ever seen him angry or even irritated. He’s the nicest guy around so make time to talk to him ☆(－ｏ⌒)

Relationships:

Family

Who?

Friends

Mimosa vermillion

Plant buddies! When mimosa saw the passion and care Ziya has for plants she instantly became his friend. When both of them have nothing to do, they usually are having a pleasant conversation in the Garden! If you manage to come across them during a conversation you’ll hear them info dumping about all kinds of plants. They even hang out outside of the base! They’re besties for life !!

William Vangeance

“Woah, someone becoming buddies with a captain?” Now that’s unusual.. not only that he’s a foreigner 🫢”-alecdora probably . Same thing with mimosa he also noticed his passion for plants! He found him tending to the garden when he first joined. Ever since then they seem to talk on the regular and William even goes to Ziya for plant advice! The grass has been greener ever since he joined.

Isabella Roselei (belongs to mamavino 🚶🏾‍♂️)

Ziya was late out walking when he met her. While he was walking, he kept seeing these weird illusions. At first Ziya thought he was tired but, it turns out it was just some girl pulling pranks on him 😑 Now why would he hangout with someone who pranks him every time they meet? Welll he admires her carefree; independent nature. He sometimes wishes to explore more of this kingdom and even more. They bond over the places they want to/wish to go. Someday they’ll finally explore the world (._.)

Others:

Levi Foudre

He’s a little strange, but he has a good heart. He’s seems concerned for Ziya being in the Golden Dawn. Well since Levi does have more experience with royals/nobles and how than can act(especially around foreigners) so it’s only natural for him to be worried. Don’t worry Levi, Ziya is strong!

Trivia (^o^)／

Ziya has serial numbers on his neck from when he confined in the laboratory.(something like avernturines or something like Emma’s from the promised neverland)

He remembers nothing from that time( even though he got out 4 years ago )(he’ll remember due to a certain somebody (alecdora (ー_ー))

When he uses his magic, his hair tips glows. When he achieves a certain special form, his hair will fully change :D

He didn’t even know grimores existed till he lived in the Clover Kingdom

He can summon multiple arms

His original country is definitely based off the Middle East cultures

Only oc that has a hooked nose(in the black clover verse)

Can speak Arabic and English

Can Dance really well(even on water;D)

[daughters-of-liberty]

For some reason, this time of year always draws me to God more than any season. Maybe it's all the Christmas songs, particularly the religious ones like Silent Night or God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen (which is actually my very favorite non-secular Christmas song) bringing a bit of Christian imagery to the mundane. You're grocery shopping, eating pancakes at Perkins, getting your oil changed, doesn't matter, there's a Christmas song playing and something in the air shifts whenever a religious one comes on. I can't describe it.

Someone I follow posted some lyrics from different hymns and whatnot, but the first one was the opening verse from O Holy Night:

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

'Til He appeared, and the soul felt it's worth...

I have often thought about this verse, particularly the "soul felt its worth" bit, even in the deepest of my pagan days. Something about that sentiment carried an extra weight that could be felt by someone who had never read the Bible and hadn't gone to church or listened to a sermon since I was like 10.

So often, people bring up eternal damnation as a way to try to scare people into believing in God. But I can honestly say that simple lyric "long lay the world in sin and error pining, til He appeared, and the soul felt it's worth" did more to turn my heart back toward God than any fire and brimstone rhetoric.

Not that I ever hated God, don't be mistaken. I actually thought God hated me, or at the very least, strongly disapproved of my life choices. Being a dedicated pagan from about age 8, but with definite pagan ideals and concepts–such as ancestor veneration and reincarnation–incorporated into my belief system from my earliest contemplations on matters such as death, I thought I was an outcast...though I didn't know why I felt that way at the time.

Several years later, I had gone through so many books on paganism, desperate to quell this hollow feeling I had on a soul deep level, this longing to belong with no respite, only to come up not only empty-handed, but also angrier and angrier. I had hoped that some book–any book!–would give me further insight. But everything just became progressively dumber and dumber and more and more infuriatingly so. And every Christmas season, when angels are everywhere and bells are tolling and a choir can be heard inside and outside of every store singing "come and behold Him, born the king of angels", and people are unusually kind and charitable...there's something there. A filling to that hollow feeling.

Now, don't get me wrong, this isn't the Redemption of Bee, I'm not a prodigal daughter. Not entirely, anyway. But, after learning more about God and Jesus, and the full context of Jesus' time on the cross and what He did for us (going literally to Hell and back to save all of humanity from our sins is frickin metal, I don't care who you are), and reading Genesis and seeing exactly how much love God has for us, and how well-meaning and genuine He is (don't blame me, I kinda bought into some atheistic rhetoric about how cruel God is in my teens), the non-secular Christmas songs don't make me cringe anymore. Heck, Christian rock doesn't make me cringe anymore (Crowder's Crushing Snakes is a banger, change my mind).

But what used to make me ponder about Things when I was a pagan, the line "and the soul felt it's worth", now really struck a chord with me. To the point where contemplating the full scope of that simple little line inexplicably brings me to tears. On my journey, winding though it may be, I didn't listen to preachers or priests or anything like that. I mean, I tried to, and only really liked Father Mike Schmitz's approach to talking about things. But mostly, and feel free to judge me for this, I listened to a lot of Andrew Klavan and his musings about God and Jesus and the meaning of life and death and questions of morality. Say whatever you will about him, I found a lot of his takes very comforting, like talking to your father about God. Because I never really talked to my dad about God, except when I came out as pagan to him.

One thing Andrew Klavan talks about a lot in regards to Christianity, is that God is forgiving. God is loving. Yes, sometimes he can be cruel, but that's usually to teach a lesson that's falling on deaf ears, like your father taking away a toy as a child because you disobeyed him. But, one thing he especially highlights, is that God loves you. It doesn't matter if you hate Him, if you blame Him for every little bad thing in your life, He loves you and He forgives you. And should you ever find your way back to God, he will embrace you with open arms and say "welcome home". Even if you've sinned. Jesus ate with the sinners, and counted them more dearly than the Pharisees.

In some ways, my period of paganism felt like the period before Christ's birth. I waited for a very long time, in sin and error, pining for that feeling of belonging, of worth, of acceptance, of order, of gratitude. Of sheer unconditional love. And I waited and waited, until God and Christ kind of nudged their way into my psyche, and then into my life. And the soul felt it's worth. My existence wasn't meaningless, my life has a purpose, and no purpose is too small. I was hopeful, I rejoiced, a new and glorious morn broke. I didn't hate myself anymore, and realized God never hated me. How can I go forward not completely revitalized by that notion? That concept that even when all seems lost and hopeless, there is always hope.

“Turn your face from the green world, and look where all seems barren and cold!” said Gandalf. Then Aragorn turned, and there was a stony slope behind him running down from the skirts of the snow; and as he looked he was aware that alone there in the waste a growing thing stood. And he climbed to it, and saw that out of the very edge of the snow there sprang a sapling tree no more than three foot high. Already it had put forth young leaves long and shapely, dark above and silver beneath, and upon its slender crown it bore one small cluster of flowers whose white petals shone like the sunlit snow.

[hello-nichya-here]

Should Toph have taken more time to fully accept Zuko as an ally and as a friend?

First, let's remember one thing: they kind of had no choice but to accept Zuko as their ally. Like Toph herself pointed out, Aang NEEDED a firebending teacher, and there was no way they'd find someone else by that point. Desperate times, desperate meassures, and all that crap.

But did she becomes his friend too quickly? Not really, because Toph is really the odd one out when it came to opinions on Zuko for a few specific reasons.

1 - Toph has A LOT in common with Zuko, be it in regards to temperament, trauma and background. They're both proud, stubborn, and difficult to deal with at times. They both show affection in unusual ways, with Toph punching the people she likes in the arm REALLY hard, and Zuzu's smoothest line in the show being "You're so beautiful when you hate the world." Zuko was disowned by his father due to being seen as someone who would bring nothing but shame, and Toph's family straight pretended she didn't exist, which just HAS to hurt, especially for a child. Iroh became a bit of a helicopter parent to Zuko in book 2, just like Toph's parents did to her since she was born, and it led to both of them rebeling - and in book 3 we see Toph writting to her mom and Zuko trying to find Iroh, both clearly struggling with some guilt. When Zuko didn't speak up against a cruel, inhumane plan, out of fear of being punished, he thinks about how he was the perfect prince, the son his father wanted, but he wasn't himself. Toph straight up had to live a double life to be able to both please her parents, while also not ignoring her own wishes and needs. For God's sake, they're both from rich, powerful families, had alter egos, and were thiefs. Toph had WAY more in common with Zuko than with the rest of the Gaang.

2 - She wasn't part of the group in book 1, when Zuko was being openly hostile to the Gaang nearly every single episode. She didn't even know he existed until "The Chase", and she sort of heard about him for "the first time" twice. First as an enemy, then as just a troubled teenager that wanted to find himself, and felt he had to leave his loving uncle behind to do so - and she got that version of the story from someone she clicked with way faster than she did with the Gaang.

3 - Toph was there when Zuko lost his shit sering Azula attack Iroh, to the point that even Katara, who we KNOW thought of Zuko as "the face of the enemy", offered to help, so she knew that, yes, Zuko has a heart. She also knew, for a fact, that he was being honest when he said that he wanted to teach Aang forebending, that he had freed Appa, that he wanted to be their friend (and Aang confirmed that he DID offer Zuko that option, back when they had to join forces against Zhao), and that he was willing to help even as a prisoner, and that he WAS sorry for sending Combustion Man after them - though that last one was, naturally, so serious of a confession that Toph DID get mad and not object (at first) when her friends told Zuko to fuck off.

4 - While Toph is not nearly as forgiving as Aang, she doesn't REALLY hold grudges. She was the one proposing a truce to Aang after their petty fight so they'd talk things out, she only needed a nice conversation with Iroh to calm down enough to give being in the Gaang another shot (even with Katara's comment on her blindness, which was waaaay out of line), she went from being annoyed at Sokka for not thanking her for helping save him and Suki to trying to kiss him in just five minutes, she didn't complain in the SPA about people touching her feet even though she explicitly warned Katara that this was her one condition to agree to going to said SPA, she dealt with her friends constantly forgetting that she was blind with nothing more than some sarcastic comments, she forgave Aang for lashing out at her when she couldn't protect Appa because she knew he was going through a lot, she never said a single bad thing about Suki even though she clearly had a thing for Sokka, she was talking about how Katara genuinely loved her for who she was right after they spent an entire episode bickering, she wrote a letter to her mom so they could try mending their relationship, she was instantly cool with the guys she had fought mere months before just because they said they wanted to help out against the Fire Nation, and, yes, she forgave Zuko super fast when he burned her feet AND when he was super rude to her while rejecting the thought of their life changing field trip (I personally still hold a grudge against the writers for that).

I say Toph warming up to Zuko as fast as she did makes total sense - and that she deserved that life changing field trip.

#JusticeForToph

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[ga-yuu]

Sutokuin/Akihito Main Story Chapter 2

Chapter 1

----Part 1----

Akihito: "It's not given to you when you want it, and when it's brought to you, it's too much to handle. That's the kind of freedom I've always had."

Akihito: "So playing in the bright sunshine with a healthy you don't feel so bad. It's like I'm a different person."

(What do you mean)

It was tricky, but I was hesitant to ask about the intricacies.

His fingertips entwine with my hand and urge me to join him.

Akihito: "Let's go, Yoshino."

(For some reason, Akihito-san...has an atmosphere where if you go too deep there's no turning back)

I may have already become interested in Akihito-san when I thought that.

......................

Yoshino: "That is the most popular teahouse in Kamakura. The general shop next door has a good selection of goods and might be a convenient place for travelers."

Akihito: "Mm. I'll keep that in mind."

As we were looking around the market together, we unexpectedly heard a 'Chi chi...' voice.

Akihito: "Is that...."

(A bird shop? That's unusual)

Birdcages made of bamboo are laid out on the ground, and the shopkeeper was sitting beside them.

Yoshino: "Can we check?"

After he nods, we both approached the bird shop....

Yoshino: "Wow, their feathers are so beautiful!"

Fluttering their multicolored wings, the little birds sang their hearts out in their cages.

Shopkeeper: "Welcome. All the birds here are of a rare species."

Akihito: "You're right. There's a lot of birds in here I've never seen before."

Yoshino: "You're so cute!....Hm? What happened to that one?"

A birdcage in the corner suddenly catches my eye.

Of the several small birds that were put in, there was one that was cowering without energy, with broken wings.

Akihito: "...One of its wings is broken. Is that for sale too?"

Shopkeeper: "Oh, please don't mind that sir. It's just a damaged stock. I'm thinking of getting rid of it later today."

Yoshino: "....Getting rid of it?"

Shopkeeper: "Of course. Why would a businessman want to keep something that will never give him any profits?"

Yoshino: "Maybe with proper medical care, she would be okay? Have you thought about that?"

Shopkeeper: "Don't be stupid, young lady. I'm not wasting my money anymore on his useless bird."

The owner shrugged his shoulders ignoring my statement.

Shopkeeper: "Why don't you guys go and play with her before I throw her out."

Little bird: "Chi chiii"

The small blue bird frantically flaps its wings when being chased around by other small birds.

(....! The others are bullying her because she's weak)

Akihito: "........"

I frowned when I saw her being pecked by another bird's beak and screaming, unable to escape.

Yoshino: "....Mm."

Akihito: "Excuse me."

Akihito-san inserts his fingertips into the gaps of the birdcage.

Shopkeeper: "Hey, what are you doing?"

Akihito: "Sorry, I just couldn't bear to watch."

Sheltered by Akihito-san, the little blue bird chirped weakly.

Akihito: "A life of being shunned by your owner and also oppressed by your fellow mates. What were you born for?"

----Part 2-----

Akihito: "A life of being shunned by your owner and also oppressed by your fellow mates. What were you born for?"

(Akihito-san?)

The long eyelashes cast a languid shadow over the downcast eyes.

(I don't know...why do you look like that)

Yoshino: "----I will buy her."

Akihito: "....!"

Shopkeeper: "What?"

Yoshino: "Please, I want to try treating her."

Akihito-san eyes widened when he heard my wish.

Akihito: "I don't know. If it's this bad, it might not ever recover."

Yoshino: "Maybe, but I don't want to overlook it."

Akihito: "I might sound cruel, but there isn't just one little bird in this world that dies."

Yoshino: "But this is my personal selfishness."

Yoshino: "Even if I don't have the power to save everything, I at least want to try to save little lives I come across."

Akihito: "........"

(It may sound hypocritical. But if I don't do anything, I will surely regret it. I don't want to do that)

I try to convey the words from my mind as much as I could.

Yoshino: "If she is destined to be marginalized and oppressed from birth, I want to change that."

Yoshino: "I want her to think that she is born to fly high."

Akihito: "....Fly high."

----Options----

Maybe I want to see it....

Just like a human child..(+4/+4)

I don't know if little birds.....

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

Yoshino: "She's just like a human child, being born in this world unhappy, right?:

Akihito: "----I don't know."

Akihito: "But your words are strangely comforting."

Akihito-san spoke thoughtfully.

Yoshino: "Excuse me. How much does she cost?"

Shopkeeper: "I don't mind, but..."

After staring at me, the owner mentioned the price in a mocking tone.

(....That's much higher than I expected)

Yoshino: "Can't you at least give us a discount?"

Shopkeeper: "Not happening."

Shopkeeper: "You're so naive. You don't have any money but you're so naive to make a move out of cheap sympathy."

Yoshino: "...."

Akihito: "Is it the thing for a man who knows the world to pick on a naive woman? If so, the world is a barren place."

Akihito: "I don't think Yoshino, who managed to land a good job and living a respectable life by herself, is naive."

Yoshino: "Akihito-san..."

A hand is placed on my shoulder as if to protect me, and my stiff body relaxes a little.

Shopkeeper: "Ha? Do you think listening to your moral values will make me want to reduce the price? Sorry, but I'm not backing down."

Akihito: "I never heard her saying anything about moral value. All she did was try to bargain, which is a normal thing that any customer would do. Your perception is distorted."

Shopkeeper: "Nn....."

Akihito: "Or maybe you didn't hear her well. Don't worry, she's a pharmacist, she will treat your ears if you want."

Shopkeeper: "Do you think I'm stupid!"

Akihito-san then reaches into his pocket and places the coins in front of the shopkeeper.

He also removed his earring and dropped it on top of it.

Akihito: "That should be more than enough."

(Eh!?)

Shopkeeper: "Oh?"

Yoshino: "Akihito-san! What are you...."

(I can certainly tell you that those earrings are quite expensive, even as a layman...)

Yoshino: "I can't borrow that much!"

Akihito: "It seems you have been mistaken. I'm not lending it to you. I'm paying it."

----Part 3----

Yoshino: "I can't borrow that much!"

Akihito: "It seems you have been mistaken. I'm not lending it to you. I'm paying it."

Yoshino: "That's even worse."

(Who really is Akihito-san to be able to pay such a large sum of money so easily?)

Akihito: "How about it?"

Shopkeeper: "Ah? Well...if you say so."

The owner of the shop looks intently at Akihito-san's earrings.

Shopkeeper: "Just so you know, you can't return it if you change your mind later."

Akihito: "Hm? Yeah, sure."

(No, I can't let you...!)

When I was about to open my mouth to stop him....

???: "Wait a minute, please."

(Who?)

An amused voice came down and I turned around to see a man.

???: "It's a rip-off, isn't it? I don't think it's a fair price."

Shopkeeper: "K-Kichiji-san!"

(The name doesn't sound familiar, but I think I've seen this person somewhere before)

The face with eye catch is sweet and well-defined.

Kichiji: "That little bird. It certainly is a rare species, but they've been popping up regularly in recent years."

Kichiji: "On top of that it's injured, so don't overstate the price."

Kichiji: "If I had to guess, I'd say a 40% reduction is about right."

(Really...?)

When I looked at the scary shopkeeper, his face was reddish-black with impatience and anger.

Shopkeeper: "Nn....This is none of your business!"

Shopkeeper: "You're doing a pretty shady business yourself."

Kichiji: "So what? But I wouldn't be caught doing an assessment that would lie to my own appraising eye."

Kichiji: "If you betray yourself as a merchant, you only diminish your market value."

Shopkeeper: "Tch....Don't try to be all high and mighty. You have no reason to interfere with how I do my business."

Kichiji: "Certainly in business, it's worse when you're being scammed. Even I would normally ignore small ones like this."

Kichiji: "But they don't seem to be ready to pay that much."

Akihito: "..........."

Akihito-san looked at Kichiji-san with an unreadable smile.

Kichiji: "Also, it's my personal wish to help them."

(Personal wish?)

Kichiji-san finally looked at me and winked.

Kichiji: "Good to see you arrived in Kamakura safely. I hope you're doing well."

Yoshino: "Hm?....Oh!"

I finally remembered a memory that had stuck with me for a long time.

(Before I met Tamamo and everyone else....I encountered this person!)

----FLASHBACK----

Yoshino: “Um, excuse me. Is this road leading to Kamakura?”

Kichiji Kaneuri: “That’s right….but are you heading to Kamakura now?”

-----Part 4----

Yoshino: “Um, excuse me. Is this road leading to Kamakura?”

Kichiji: “That’s right….but are you heading to Kamakura now?”

Yoshino: “Yeah. I was hoping to be there by nightfall, but it took me a while.”

Kichiji: “…………."

Kichiji: "How about you don’t?”

Yoshino: “Pardon?”

Kichiji: “Yeah, how about you don’t and have dinner with me instead? Promise I’ll make it worth your while, pretty lady."

Yoshino: "I-I'm sorry. I'm kinda in hurry. So..."

Kichiji: "Aww that's bad. Well, if we ever meet again somewhere then we'll call it fate."

Yoshino: "Eeehh."

Kichiji: "I hope we do. ....So be careful on your way."

----FLASHBACK END----

Yoshino: "You're that merchant!"

Kichiji: "I'm glad that you remembered."

Kichiji-san had the same sexy smile just like the night we met.

.................

After Akihito-san bought the little bird at a fair price from the shopkeeper who had lost his patience....

All three of us went to a quiet place...

Yoshino: "Thank you so much, Akihito-san. For buying that bird...."

Akihito: "Your welcome. But it's also thanks to him, that we could buy it at a reasonable price."

Akihito-san paid the money and also offered to take care of it.

We both had a major discussion on who should raise the bird.

(It wasn't cheap, even though it was a fair price, and it was indeed awkward for me to let him take it home)

I asked, though because I knew it must be hard to look after an injured little bird.

It was a little surprising to see Akihito-san insisting on keeping the little bird.

(I heard that the little bird would be delivered to Akihito-san's inn later, which is really good)

(I will ask him if I could visit him frequently to treat the bird)

Yoshino: "Also, Kichiji-san. Thank you for helping us back there!"

Kichiji: "Sueharu."

Yoshino: "Eh?"

Sueharu: "Call me Sueharu. Kichiji is a name I use for business-related purposes."

Yoshino: "For business-related purpose?"

Akihito: "Kichiji Kaneuri---the famous merchant, right?"

(Famous)

Sueharu: "----Don't mistake me for someone else."

Akihito: "Fufu...you mean there are two people named Kichiji doing shady business?"

(Akihito-san's laugh looked like he was provoking Sueharu-san...)

I gulped when I saw sparks fly on the crossed lines of sight.

Sueharu: "But you. Your background smells a lot shadier than mine, though."

Sueharu: "From those earrings to your clothes. All look very exclusive."

Akihito: "Wealth is not a sign of evil."

Sueharu: "Unfortunately, it's not just silent objects that I can appraise. People too?"

Sueharu-san's one eye was sharply narrowed.

Sueharu: "People who grew up without any encumbrances don't have eyes like yours."

Akihito: "Eyes like me?"

Sueharu: "----It's the eyes of someone who has seen hell once."

(Eh....)

Akihito: "Maybe, I still am."

Akihito: "And you, who can understand it, are you feeling sorry for me?"

Akihito-san's tone is as graceful and calm as ever, as he retorts without hesitation.

But the unfathomable light in his eyes flickered....and the smile on his mouth was unforgettable.

Akihito: "Tell me something, Sueharu."

Akihito: "Did you live by seeing only the ugly things until you could get the wealth and color you wanted?"

Sueharu: "..........."

(...The air feels heavy)

An invisible thread of tension is suffocating between them.

But then----

Sueharu: "Seriously, you're creeping me out!"

The place loosened up at once at Sueharu-san's words which he spat out in disgust.

Sueharu: "Ughh. The kind of outlandishness that people don't like to be told about, in an elegant way. I see what you mean."

(He looks like the guy who doesn't hesitate to speak his mind)

Akihito: "Forgive me, I was just messing with you."

----Part 5----

Akihito: "Forgive me, I was just messing with you."

Sueharu: "Were you? You sounded very curious."

Sueharu: "But you're a hella lot better than a danger-loving gambler wearing the skin of a kind-hearted looking guy."

(Seems like he's referring to someone specific...?)

Sueharu: "So, what's your name again?"

Akihito: "Akihito. Yoshino's lover."

(Huh!?)

Akihito: "Nice to meet you, Sueharu."

Sueharu: "Oh no no. Please call me Kaneuri Kichiji."

Akihito: "Looks like you don't want to act casual in front of me."

Yoshino: "Also, we're not lovers!"

Sueharu: "I see. So you got dumped?"

Akihito: "No, we were just in the middle of a fight."

Sueharu: "Aww. What am I going to do now? There's a pesky bug on a pretty flower I'm trying to pick."

Akihito: "I hear as much about your infamy as I do about your notoriety, though, don't I?"

Sueharu: "Yes yes, my games are the kind of games that make girls happy, so don't try to play with me."

(These two have never met before...right?)

(Maybe they are actually not incompatible with each other, even though they have totally different atmospheres?)

Sueharu: "If you don't want anything bad to happen, it's best if you cut ties with this person, Yoshino."

Akihito: "Maybe it's a little too late to cut ties."

Sueharu: "Haha. Then that's not very good."

Yoshino: "Anyways, thank you very much, Sueharu-san."

Sueharu: "Yeah, you can pay me back when you see me again."

Sueharu-san walks away, leaving behind a pair of sexy streaming eyes.

(He seems like a good person. I hope we meet again)

Yoshino: "So..."

I turned to Akihito-san again and bowed my head.

Yoshino: "Akihito-san, please let me come by your inn to treat the little bird."

Akihito: "....."

Akihito: "As the owner, I should be the one asking you that."

Yoshino: "I wasn't able to buy her. So I wanted to do at least this much."

Yoshino: "Thank you for fulfilling my desire to save her when there was nothing I could do."

Akihito: ".....Honestly, you're so...."

(Akihito-san?)

After a moment of silence, Akihito-san opens his mouth again.

Akihito: "It's really me who should be thanking you. Thank you for taking pity on a little bird."

Akihito: "....Because I couldn't have done that."

I was flabbergasted to feel that the quiet tone of his voice meant something more than words.

Akihito: "You had a firm will. That is to be prized above money and means."

Akihito: "I have the utmost respect and appreciation for that strength."

Yoshino: "Akihito-san...."

Yoshino: "I didn't expect you to say something like that."

Akihito: "If Yoshino hadn't wished for that, neither I nor Sueharu would have moved."

Yoshino: ".....Then, I'm glad that I wished for it."

(Ever since I took on the big role of being the fox princess, I've been worried about what I could do)

(But what I all needed was a little bit of encouragement)

Yoshino: "One day, I will try my best to be the one who has the ability to make someone's wish come true!"

Akihito: "....."

Mysterious blue eyes stared at me as I started to blush.

The expression he had, sends a tingling effect in my heart.

(Akihito-san, is mysterious...but he's really kind)

I smiled, happy to know that I know just a little bit more about Akihito-san.

Akihito: "Sueharu has a point."

Yoshino: "Hm?"

He scooped up my chin with his beautiful fingertips.....

Akihito: "Your heart is so sweet. It could certainly attract some pesky bugs."

Akihito: "You need to be more careful not be devoured by them."

Chapter 3

[pastelpaperplanes]

You mostly draw Megatron with Crusade in his Cybertronian look but in your canons it was said that while carrying the spark Megs wore his Marauder look. Did Megatron changed bodies or is the Canon changed?

yes! haha so hmm let’s see. So far up until A Little Too Familiar I have tossed Crusade into my Crackship AU—because with the Cybertron’s future AU with a whole lot of my other sparklings, ones that have considered backstories, they wouldn’t exist because of Shamus and Envoy!—and yes in the Crack AU, Megan does sport his Marauder Upgrade.

I’m still 1000% open to keeping Crusade as like,,a cameo for the Crack AU but I will say I’m getting far too attached to their character to better NOT explore them more in a more intricate backstory kind of sense! Many of the asks I’ve answered previously about Crusade’s personality and future are still canon—with the exemption that Crusade has a far more present/loving relationship with their Carrier, who as a literal helicopter parent is near suffocating in his protectiveness and efforts to keep his sparkling away from the hands and influence of the Autobots, even if that means locking them away on the Nemesis far too much to be healthy, and lying straight to their face, and others, about their origins.

Since the TFN 2021 S4 kickoff script reading I’ve been leaning towards guess what—a whole other AU that continues RIGHT after that point, much like where the CF AU would—only certain rescission within the timeline have been changed leading to, in some relationships, a vastly different setting for a next generation! (No, I don’t think I’d create a whole ton of other sparklings in place, for example a planned Strika/Lugnut kiddo wouldn’t happen for obvious reasons, nor would Shmaus or Envoy exist!! Who would remain, THAT I will figure out later down the line.) So Megatron is not in his Marauder form, Optimus is named Magnus, Jazz is with team Prime/Ninja Corps, Sentinel is still a dick figures, Prowl is still dead and so forth.

What I have planned is sort of like where the Deceptions sport a retreat after their bust on Earth when attempting to take over the central line of techno organic energon. The Cons faced losses, high command was scrambled and still very much injured from their cruel, and unusual keeping within Trypticon, heavy sacrifices turned out to NOT reap greater rewards, and the troops are still starving—and starving, scared mecha are far more dangerous than angry ones.

Optimus is still coming to terms that he is due to lead Cybertron, under the title of Optimus Magnus as soon as he’s back, whether he likes it or not as the front lines are still very much on edge with the evermore increasingly violent rouge Con raids.

I made some commentary on the reading as a whole which was PHENOMENAL and I’m still riding the high that is the fanTASTIC work that was put into is, like god. There was a brief but hilarious moment from Rattletrap where he attempted to sell off a crudely photoshopped Megop photograph as dirt—a part of me thought it would be even MORE hilarious if said photo was actually, used and Op was left sputtering after a double take going like how did they find that. HOW.

My poor, poor fanfic loving heart got going on of course the What if the Enemies Were Fraternizing Throughout the Whole of The Show, Morals be Damned in Those Stolen Moments Because I Like YOU For Some Reason trope. Wow is me, be still my beating HEART. It did not stop—so I made another AU :D yayyyyy

Basically the creation of Crusade follows along in this timeline in that sense. They were a product of one too many lonely nights in some far off abandoned cave that never could quite seem to end with a civil conversation, let alone spark apprehension from the other when it came to going toe to toe of the battlefield for the sake of their Causes. A Comfort without Strings relationship, even if they did come to grow fond of each other, not that they’d ever admit it—a confession, in a sense, would only hurt both parties knowing that the two would never give up their motivations in the ‘impossible ‘case that said feelings were mutual.

From the looks of it, the Autobots did not once tend to the Deceptions during their stay at Trypticon. Megs still sported bare struts and tattered armor up to his escape—it would be believable that medics never once ran scans, let alone were ordered to get anywhere near the high command. With already being in such poor shape, battered, humiliated, starved, violated (those minicons?? homage to Trepan??? yikessssss) and sedated—it would be believable that Megatron wouldn’t pay notice to a small flutter in his spark amongst all the pain and anxiety, at least until he finally could gather his bearings under the lockdown of his temporary fortress stuck on Earth.

Megatron, knowing he was alone, now extremely vulnerable, heavily outnumbered and out favored by his remaining struggling troops, called upon his definitely not most favorite sub team to cower behind—the DJD, to meet his blaring distress beacon.

Tarn and his crew, with the help of the rest of high command’s signal dampeners, are able to as covertly as possible—minus the world sweeper size of the Peaceful Tyranny and the paralyzing droning on of the Empyrean Suite that Tarn just loves so dearly—made it off planet save for a few bumps and bruises from the small force of Team Prime. The High & Mighty Megatron was no where to be seen in the action. Probably off in a hurry to lick his wounds in retreat after getting his ass handed to him, many assumed, but Nickel knew better. Tarn knew better. Something was terribly wrong in order to resort to a ‘cowardly’ extraction and evasion mission.

You can see where I’m going w this—so anyways YES that is the general gist of where this AU kicks off!!! Megs and Op, particularly Megs, got unlucky on their last night together—eventually all leading to the introduction of the previously secretive back up weapon that was the DJD. Coming to the rescue of their Fearless, All Powerful, and Resilient Leader?? A strange, but instantly understandable measure to resort to once Megatron reveals himself as a carrying mech, the beholder of a true heir and a testament to the resilience that is the Deceptions though the terrible reign the Autobots have held against them through the eons.

I’ll go into why he keeps Crusade on a tight leash and Op out of the loop entirely for as long as he possibly could—and how the rest of Megaton’s troops behaved around this clearly, half blooded Con sparkling their leader doted on— later!

Needless to say, Crusade’s reputation from the moment they were born was tottering on a fine line between that of pitiable condolences for their leader, and that of true Decepticon pride knowing that the one to lead them to glory some day is none other than one of the Autobots’ very own descendants.

Hope that kinda better explains things! I like Meg’s Cybertronian design, it’s sleek, it’s sexy, it’s easier to draw, and since S4 gave us a fresher design to admire of Optimus, why not have the same for his other half!

YEAHH. so new AU :D AYOOOO I’ll tag this timeline/future mentionings of Crusade and their journey as Cybertron’s Legacy AU

extremely stupid doodle under the cut! I can’t get over the duality of Old Written vs New Written Crusade ahhh 💀💀

I found a horrifically perfect tik tok audio for these two oml

Swapping Megatron stories!

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Unrequited love

I should be working on comfort requests-

Instead, I have two ideas that kept me awake last night cause I apparently like to make Dazai suffer.

Angst (Idk kinda?)

Words: 1491

Unrequited love |Dazai x Reader x Chuuya|

Shadows loomed over the night, coating the starless sky. The light provided by street lamps left the deeper down into the alleyways. Cold winds blew past, ruffling the black mafioso coat, the symbol of death. The familiar crimson dripped from the barrel of the mafioso's gun. As it landed the blood crystallized into beautiful roses, courtesy from his partner. Normally there would be three of them. A devil, a demon, and a god. When the three worked together there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do, alone they were just as strong. The devil, as most people in the underworld called him, placed the gun back on its hold. He looked back at the demon with no expression, only jolting his head to the side. Even in the dim light, they were memorized by the devil. Perhaps that’s why they were the demon. What else could love the devil? A man so cruel he held no mercy, not for his co-workers, his enemies, he had nothing to spare. Some pity him, an executive at such a young age, so heartless and cruel. Surely he was suffering beneath the layers. Of course, that’s what they, the demon, thought.

They were 17 when the demon held a bundle of crystallized flowers. Having dipped them in water and turned the liquid that laid atop the petals into crystals they handed them to the male. Dazai, the devil only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first or last time this would happen. How many times had they confessed to the brunette, only to receive silence? Then again, they had never said they loved him. The brunette let them cling to him, much to the ginger's displeasure. The god tended to be the middle between them. Chuuya hated watching his partner's ungrateful attitude. To be honest, he was still shocked Dazai hadn’t tried to ravage the one they called a demon.

The day you, the demon, stood in front of Dazai, just before he’d leave forever, you spoke the three words. Instead of silence, he gave that dark shadowy look. Though only one eye was exposed his message was clear. Even in those dark, deadly eyes that showed no emotion, you could tell before he spoke. “When will you take the hint? I don’t have interest in you, never will." His words were so cold.

You looked down as your heart nearly leaped from its place. You stood and watched him leave to the scene of an explosion. You stood before your knees gave out and you fell. That was the last time you would see him for four years.

Dazai spent every day thinking about that moment, the different paths that you could have walked. To not immerse yourself in the senseless bloodshed for life. Had he said yes could you be here among the Agency laughing like you used to? He heard the new rumors, the things they said about you. A Deity of bloodshed. Nobody saw you and lived to tell the tale. An executioner of the port mafia. A heartless demon who lived only to spread their misery to others. They said your eyes were cold and emotionless. No longer lively and that beautiful trap he had been captured by. They said you never laughed, but when you did it was to mock your victims. The cheerful laugh that used to mix into the few good dreams he had now lay within the nightmares. Some Days he woke up and saw the old him. Other times he would wake up from a nightmare and swear you were there. Looking back at him in the mirror. A look of hate on your face as you blamed him for the monster you are.

The rumor that hurt the most had to be your relationship status. Nobody could confirm it, but hearing that you and Chuuya had become a killer duo killed him. Jealousy, anger, disgust, most of that aimed at himself. Another reason to add to the list of miseries he’s gone through. The others at the agency never noticed the way his mind was starting to unravel as rumors increased. As more and more people began to fear the name he regretted tossing to the side. He had been scared of those words, the three words he still can’t say because he’s afraid of how human they make him. For years, he’s been so distant from humanity. Why did it take him so long to realize that pain in his chest as he declined your confessions? The shattering pain he felt when he walked away was his own heart shattering from a love that could have been. He could only imagine you sitting at the desk laughing away with his coworkers. He could imagine his hands over your eyes as he surprised you.

The worst trick of his eyes was when he could really see you sitting there at the empty desk. When he could hear your laughter. Why did this world have to hate him so much? It’s hated him from the day he was born. He hated living so alone, and he could have had somebody, could have shared the miseries of this world with you but he won’t be able to.

Your first appearance at the agency happened during a meeting. The guild would be a problem only the two agencies combined could conquer. His eyes had spotted you immediately. You looked matured, no longer the demon who was far too kind to wear such a title. You truly looked like he had once. Eyes devoid of all emotion. You held your head high, hands behind your back as you took a right next to Mori. Chuuya stood next to you, and upon seeing Dazai his lips curled into a cruel smirk. He leaned over to whisper into your ear.

The smile your lips curled into mirrored the twisted smirk he would wear when delivering punishments to his underlings. He could only shiver before the two of you shared a brisk kiss. His whole world shattered but he held himself together. He kept his unusually bright smile as the two leaders worked out a deal.

When the two of them showed before Dazai he could only wave to hear your voice. “Listen Dazai, neither of us is pleased about working with you. The faster this is done the less we have to deal with you and your heartless personality.” Dazai had no words, he’d never heard you talk like that before. You were always the one silent or praising his accomplishments.

After the mission when Chuuya passed out from using corruption he reached out to you. “Y/n, what happened to you?” among all the questions amidst his mind that one spilled from his lips first.

“Oh Dazai, you happened. The mafia changes people the same way your… current job does.” you sounded disappointed and disgusted.

Behind that mask, you were crying out. Your heart raced as he stood in front of you. A part of you still wanted to hold him as you had. You learned the hard way feelings only granted you pain. “You know, keeping the act up won’t last that long. I recognize the act. Modeled after how I used to hide away?” The snarl that passed over your lips as you reached to punch him didn’t surprise him.

Though it hurt both of you, it took his taunting words to bring out the emotions swimming under the lock. “I hate you. Get it into your head Dazai! You broke me, you abandoned me, you abandoned us! All for what some stupid friend! I was there longer than him Dazai… I held you after nightmares, I cleaned the wounds after battle. Do you know what hurts more than rejection? Abandonment! I trusted you, we trusted you with everything and you threw it all away like nothing. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? He was some stupid friend you spent less time with, knew for less, sure he didn’t kill, he was perfect, better than me but you didn’t even say goodbye!”

He didn’t get to respond before you carried Chuuya off.

Dazai could only stare at the ground and the stains of blood that lay crystallized from your outburst. You had never been good at holding back. He plucked the grass from the ground holding the frozen crimson in his hand. It didn’t melt in his touch as he looked around for a complete flower. He’d kept everything you gave him, he loved the collection of crimson flowers, real flowers, even rain or snow. Your ability was so beautiful and peaceful, like you had been. However, all he found were shards that could cut through flesh. Cruel like the persona you’d adopted to keep yourself from being hurt. He envied Chuuya, who now lay at the receiving end of your love while he stood within the bubble of hate that iced over your heart.

[stylistiquements]

The Sorcerer pt. 1

Corpse Husband x gn!reader

Reincarnation AU | Summary :

The same candle lights up on Corpse’s desk every time you are reborn and turn 23. He has been looking for you during centuries but this time you might be closer than anticipated.  {Playlist}

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

You’re about to blow your 23rd candles and Corpse is about to experience the consequences of it. Somehow, something about your rebirth is different this time.

☾ Words : 6009.

☾ Warnings : angst, mention of death (only suggested and not specific), grieving, swearing 

Masterlist | Next 

What does it mean to be a sorcerer in 2021? Corpse wonders as he chooses an outfit for his black bean character, lightly tapping his fingers in a crafted rhythm against his dark wooden desk. Nothing, really. The modern days turned his kind into a groundless concept, legendary creatures at best and it’s truly a shame when you think about it.

“Alright, are you ready?” Corpse asks as he moves his mouse above the “start” button and projects everyone into a new round.

“I won’t forgive you like I did last round,” Karl warns Corpse, dash of amusement in his tone.

“Sure,” he scoffs and the devious ghost of a smile shines on his lips when the bloody word “imposter” appears above his virtual pink cat hat.

Sorcerers used to be the rulers of this world and the most famous of well-hidden secrets; no one talked about it yet everyone knew. You just had to be here, respect and adoration followed their every move. People from all horizons went out of their way to meet them in hope of witnessing a miracle.

Oh, how the tables have turned now. They didn’t have to hide their face back then and it all went the harmonious way until a certain day when their fate met a tragic outcome. The day when life took a turn for the hidden.

Corpse is somehow retired now. Maybe that’s why he started doing youtube in the first place; because the craving of being needed had to be fulfilled one way or another. Or maybe because the thrill of life has been gone for so long he had to try everything to fill the void in hope of feeling a drip of something again. The weariness of a mere life stiffened in his rib cage from time to time, preventing a proper breathing.

He could have still been able to practice his magic facelessly -he wouldn’t be the first one to do so after all- but it seems crazy, surreal even, for him to picture being so public about such a heavy little secret nowadays. He found comfort in the concealed, in the invisible so long ago.

See, that’s the most important reason why Corpse is who he is today but stopping the explanations there would be neglecting the truth. Corpse would, but I'm more honest than he is.

Somehow, he believes a little too seriously that a kid’s app was designed to ruin his life. He feels this rotting taste that burns his tongue every time he thinks about it, he always talks about it with great passion; as if one minute videos could compete against the thundering energy that travels from his veins to the tip of his fingers. Witchcraft tiktok got the last bit of his ancestral pride and that’s a damn shame.

His character ambles around the hostile corridors dipped in yellow light, looking for a prey to slice in half. He doesn’t have a plan yet but he sure knows how to improvise by now. Corpse deems that he’s rather good at it. He meets Tina in O2. She’s wandering around, running like a headless chicken. What if he took that expression a little too seriously? Alas, he can’t wrap his mind around the idea of the unforgivable and she escapes his reach. Corpse’s nose wrinkles, better luck next time.

His fictional blood thirst gets stronger when he hops inside a vent and observes Rae’s red character doing her tasks. Corpse knows what comes next, it’s inevitable. A hint of excitement and nervousness hatch on his chest.

At the same time on the other side of the country, the ones you love are carrying a big cake to your table. It seems so silly and it leaves you slightly embarrassed that people are celebrating the fact that you were born but, somehow, you can’t forbid that smile to reach your ears.

When you look at the cake, a snort escapes your control. Your friends drew a glazed picture of you but you find yourself hoping that there isn’t much resemblance between that Picasso-ish designed cake and your actual face. I mean, except for that particularity your face displays; eyes that don’t match in colors, one green and one hazel, it really just looks like a kid's doodle.

23, what a weird number. It doesn’t sit quite right with you for some reason. 22 is fine, same goes for 24 but 23 … Somehow, it feels like something is either missing or too much. You’re not too sure which one it could be.

The warmth that emanates from the candles is sweet and tickles your chin softly and everyone is singing along the most disastrous birthday wishes. You’re preparing for your wish. What could you need more? You’re a faceless horror narrator on youtube and life is just about good. I mean, there really isn’t much to complain about and that should be enough.

Your mind drifts off for a second, contemplating what the dream life could be about while one of your friends is already complaining about wax getting all over your glazed face. You could wish for material things but they come and go and their meaning is only ephemeral, maybe 23 is about getting more than that.

Ah, found it. You close your eyes. May I find the place where I truly belong. 23 candles are blown in one breath, not a bad performance.

That’s when the candle on Corpse’s desk starts shining a delicate and orange shade.

Corpse doesn’t notice it at first, too impregnated by his hunt, but when the unusual warmth finally informs him of the merry event, he wrestles to keep his mind into the game. His virtual character stands motionless for a second as he mutes his mic and takes his headphones off.

Fuck, not now please.

Somewhere, a new version of the love of his life turned 23. His mind drifts off, wandering near this idea as his eyes meet the flame.

It’s been hundreds of years and that fucking candle kept you hostage of his mind. Because Corpse couldn’t forget about you, he built those walls to provide you from slipping away, from invading too much of his busy mind. It was a compromise he made with himself so he couldn’t reach you entirely and, therefore, miss you completely. Yet, your rebirth leaks through the pores of his brain and past the fences no matter how hard he tries.

Corpse battles to breathe, he tries to get his mind back on the game but somehow his throat is already filling with a dangerously acidic concoction. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice immediately the way his fingers start shaking at a painstaking rhythm.

He moves his character around. Left and right. It’s mechanical and meaningless, nothing but a lost cause. Corpse clenches his grip around the mouse, hoping that the unsteadiness would pity him. How much longer can he carry that feeling? It sits on his shoulders and his chest. It tests out his patience, his own resistance to pain.

“Corpse!” Rae shouts wholeheartedly, rooting him out of his spiral. “Where are you?!”

Fuck; he has no ounce of idea of what is happening in real life, too busy going down this familiar and intimate loop once more. He swallows it all, praying that you would spare him some earned mercy. You’re always so cruel, unabashedly sneaking in and taking over his space despite all his efforts.

“I-huh- I’m in medbay, I have scan," he bluffs, hoping that no one would notice the way his voice cracks at the end.

Because if anyone did, he would have to admit that he’s not okay, that he never was and doubts that he ever will be. Just as if conceding the facts would’ve allowed him to feel how flourishing his despair was. There’s this knot inside his throat. It’s painful and he’s so tired. How many times was he left crawling on his bathroom’s floor when his heart fractured a little deeper? He misses you every fucking day but each rebirth brings back more and more longing.

He would love to abandon himself to the aching pleasure of this unsolicited reminiscence but he knows that if he did, you would possess him wholly and never give him back. You plague his mind like a mist that grows thicker and thicker on his lungs. It diffuses everywhere and intoxicates what’s left of him.

“Sure sleepy but that’s bullshit,” Tina whines. “We know it’s Corpse. He’s been sus’ the entire round!”

“He said he had scan, right?” Sean interferes, believing that Corpse is the jester. “Why don’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

They’re all waiting for Corpse to step in, to defend himself but he’s no longer here, too busy trying to swallow the emotions that are leaking all over the place. It gnaws him alive, piece by piece and it hurts so fucking much. Will it ever stop?

Silence is convenient, “I voted” badges get pinned on everyone’s chest. His black character falls into the lava, what an ironic metaphor.

“Sorry guys, something came up and I gotta go.” He finally says, hurry in his voice. He doesn’t try to hide it. In fact, he can’t.

“Are you s…” Rae’s voice gets cut abruptly when Corpse quits the call without further notice.

Corpse knows what’s next, when his head gets overcrowded by feelings and his heart too empty. It’s ugly, it’s messy and oh how he wishes it would be different this time.

The room is spinning from the crumbs of your sweet face and the trickle of your voice that drips through his ears as if you were still here. He clings onto that distorted and stained picture as if it was the ultimate proof that you were real. Were you even real once ? Remembering feels like repeating a word over and over again: with time, it loses its meaning. It wasn’t you he remembered, Corpse figured it out a long time ago. You weren’t there anymore.

The thought of it drives him crazy. He wishes he could get rid of that fucking candle, constant reminder of your rebirth away from him, constant reminder of the defeat he has to endure every time you turn 23 and you’re still not by his side. He has been looking for you everywhere for hundreds of years, from the biggest capitals to the most secluded parts of this world, without a single hint of your existence. You’re his greatest failure and he can’t, he won’t stand that.

Corpse grabs the candle and it collides with the floor with a thud that tangles with his raw voice. His chest moves heavily. It's scattered and in discord and there is this distorted gaze on his face when he remembers that the candle cannot be shattered. It’s this unsolicited spark of self-awareness that brings him closer to reality. Fuck. What the fuck is he doing? Corpse finally lost his damn mind. His hands wander uncontrollably in his hair and he looks around frantically for a second, trying to remember how to survive.

Corpse’s head is pressuring him, rushing him to turn off his computer and spill the words that are stuck on the back of his tongue on a piece of paper. That grip is unforgivable and unclear but he starts writing as if it was the only thing left to do, maybe it is. It feels like survival instinct at this point, it feels like the last attempt to collect the pieces of himself you left behind.

Dear you,

Happy birthday, wherever you are in this world. Another letter is about to join the pile. How many are there already? I wouldn’t know. I stopped counting since it made me sick.

As every time, I hope it’s the best birthday you have ever had. I remember the twenty-third birthday we spent together as if it were yesterday. I can no longer recall the way your eyes wrinkled under your bright smile or the sound of your echoing laughter but I do remember that warm feeling inside my chest, the pain in my cheeks from laughing with all my heart. How pleasant was it to be able to live it all with you? To be able to embrace you, to breathe you, to see you. Forgive me, my love, for I am no longer capable of picturing anything of you. I wish I could. I wish I could be haunted by a proper ghost, at least, and not just a glimpse of the range of emotions that animated me when you were by my side. All I can remember now is that you felt like a firework and that my eyes never met a prettier human. It’s so truly unfair to think about the fact that no one matters as much as you still do.

I am drifting off, am I? I always tend to do that in those letters. I hope you’re doing well, I really do. Did you spend your birthday with the ones who love you? I hope you’re happy and healthy. It’s the only important thing, or at least that’s what I have learned so far.

I hate those letters, they make me realize how lonely I am. Somehow, it feels like I’m expecting an answer that is never going to arrive.

Fuck. My skin aches from the lack of your touch. I miss you so fucking much. Just tell me what to do. I tried everything and you’re still stuck inside my brain. I’m a sorcerer for fuck’s sake, one of the most powerful beings to have ever existed and yet the concept of one single human defeats me day after day, rebirth after rebirth. I’m a fucking shame for my kind. I hate you. I love you so very much. Happy birthday.

Yours truly, Corpse Husband

The paper is stained by the storm that has been building up in Corpse's mind for hours. The letters are deformed now. Look at the mess you just made. He throws the letters away, where he can no longer see it and brings his knees to his chest, resting his head between his legs. He feels like screaming one more time but he’s choking. Sweet and sore agony grips his throat as his veins are burning with thick poison.

Don’t be fooled, Corpse would have been able to cast a spell or two to forget about your existence and spare himself a bit. Yet, it would only erase the last proof he had of you, not his feelings. He would have to bear the burden of a quest he could no longer figure out. He would be left longing for something that no longer existed. As if it wasn’t the case already. He wishes he could sleep, life would be so fucking easier if he could just fall asleep.

A few days have passed since your birthday. The thread between days and nights is thin and confusing and the candle on Corpse’s desk is still radiating with as much energy as the first day.

Corpse’s head is heavy, aching, he wonders if he could still carry it on his shoulders if he wasn’t lying on his bed. That sore body feels like it has been drained from an eagerness that has been growing for too long. Corpse groans, trying to figure out what’s sheets and blankets and what’s limbs, living up to the name he chose for himself.

Every ray of the sun is burning his skin. It leaves his body smelling like heat, he doesn't like that smell. Now, he could just get up and draw the curtains but that laziness is as weary as infiltrated. If only it could rain, maybe it would soothe his nerves and his growing migraine.

After a few minutes of silent fulminations, Corpse finally unlocks his phone and opens his texts one by one just to ignore them. He’s curled up on himself, as if a compressed version of his darkness could help in order to block the light. Sorcerers are supposed to be tied with nature, with every ray of the moon and the sun. His bond with the sun is molded, if not completely doomed to grow untie. Corpse is a sorcerer like no others and that goes without saying.

One text captures his breath and his attention, bringing back some interest into the numbness. It’s coming from you, y/n. Or at least, the “you” from this present life. The “you” who isn’t aware of the past and the “you” Corpse doesn’t know is the one he has been looking for during eternity.

In this life, the two of you aren’t close enough to be friends -and he would never let you take that role- but, by the time of your first Twitter interaction -which consisted of you tweeting emo Sykkuno with tattoo pictures and Corpse replying with a meme that said "If life is a simulation please turn it off", Corpse knew you should be near him at all time. Not too close for you to actually be able to touch him but definitely not too far. It’s peculiar but something that has to be felt, not explained; a primitive hunch so loud it couldn’t be unheard.

His mind is awake again. The plan for today, which consisted of him rotting in his bed, seems compromised right now. Corpse turns to lay on the left side of the bed, where the sheets are cooler. His brows furrow and he sighs heavily as he rubs his eyes with his thumbs.

Corpse really doesn’t know why he’d feel that way in the first place for someone like you. You always seem so organic, radiating, so free in the way you choose to exist. He envies you for being so authentic when all he can afford to do is remain hidden, where no light can really reach him if not to draw a faint shape of his being. No harsh feelings though, it’s just the way he feels about anyone who doesn’t sound fake. There is still a bit of remaining endearment in the way Corpse’s words are thrown at you, you just have to know what to look for.

Now, Corpse trades his horror narrator's advices against some social media help. Those things are bigger than him, he’s too old for that anyway. You think the way he still uses symbols as emojis is charming -no one does that anymore- but Corpse just can’t keep up with today’s slang and way of showing emotions via texts. Kids these days are just too creative with the way they express themselves.

[Hello, Mr Sorcerer, hope you’re doing good. I need your help on something.]

Huh.

He meets your words and his mind gets coated in sweat, frozen blood preventing the next heartbeat from happening. Who told you?

Corpse can’t wrap his mind around the fact that his most precious secret is being exposed with that much negligence. He can count on his fingers the number of people who are aware of his true nature, half of them are actually other magical beings of some sort. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

His head is hammered by thoughts. He thinks he’s screwed, that everyone will know. He can already foresee what is about to come. That’s why there is a bit of fear in the way his eyebrows are arching. His alerted mind screams for him to just throw his phone across the room but his fingers, covered in panic, are faster. The first text he sends is not directed to you, but to Sykkuno, his familiar.

Familiars are to sorcerers what assistants are to magicians. In short -but not limited to- a massive help.

Corpse’s link with Sykkuno transcends the law of words and thoughts. They just understand each other and the way they do, without even having to see each other, is just something that has to be witnessed once in a lifetime. It’s a sort of energy that travels through space, a special connection. It's light and invisible but leaves a warm trail on its way.

However, what doesn’t transcend their bond is the concept of time zone -which Corpse forgot about for a second. Sykkuno is probably asleep right now. Corpse’s panic takes back its race once he realizes he’s on his own and he types:

[Haha, very funny. You know, if you wanted to talk, you just had to say hi :)]

Denial, that will do the trick, right? You can’t be that persistent. Or at least that’s what Corpse hopes when he leaves his phone on an unstable balance on his forehead, waiting for an answer he hopes would spare his mind from yet another issue he has to take care of.

[I knew you’d say that but don’t worry, I promise I won’t snitch,] you reply, lips twitching under a sly smile. [I’m way too afraid of you cursing me or something.]

[Who told you shit like that anyway?]

[I just know someone.]

His expression hardens, that head keeps throbbing harder and harder by the minute. You’re so impetuous and it turns him into an impatient and choleric fog. The topic is too important, crucial and it shows how you truly have no idea what you’re talking about when you act as recklessly as you do.

[Some crazy folk told you about magic and you believed them, huh? Thought you were smarter than that.]

[Dream would be pretty upset if he knew you called him “some crazy folk”.]

Corpse stares numbly at his screen before sitting back on his bed, pulling away from his vision the curly strands that fell down. He throws a bunch of silent curses at the sun which is still attacking him, if not even more now. He types a few words but erases them in a snap, repeating the process once or twice more. Now he has to send another text, this one is for Dream : “we need to talk.”

What a weird day.

Questions, Corpse has so many of them but he can’t stop shaking his head with confusion. He had no idea you knew Dream. Why would Dream reveal something so critical as Corpse’s identity? Why would another sorcerer send you his way? That’s not how things are done unless it’s something they deem they wouldn’t be able to handle and there’s really a few things Dream wouldn’t be able to do. Corpse hesitates for second, fingers fidgeting in the air. He doubts that he would ever be capable of doing something Dream can’t do but does it really matter when, right now, you’re holding information you should never be holding in the first place?

[Feeling like trading secrets under the full moon?] You outbid. It’s always so tempting to tease Corpse when he sounds like a grumpy old man.

[A sincere fuck you.]

[That’s very rude, Mr Sorcerer.]

The way you avoid providing any sort of explanation grows in his mind like weeds that need to be ripped off. Really, from all the good timing in the world, you had to choose the worst one. But there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips when he does the math and realizes that, if you wanted to use that secret to your advantage, you would have done it by now. A slow relief that softens his headache. Also, Corpse is well aware that, as annoying as you can get, he can’t refuse you a thing.

[Fine, tell me what you need.]

[So I keep seeing the same number again and again and your name keeps appearing in my head at random times. Still don’t get the correlation but I know there is one. I wanna know the number’s meaning and how I can get rid of you.]

Corpse huffs, he’d like to know that himself. He’s about to laugh it off when he reads the text one more time. Something about it is mysterious enough to pique his curiosity. You mentioned his name, it bothers him. Not that he doesn’t appreciate you thinking about him but because it sounds odd enough to be something related to magic in one way or another. There’s this mix of excitement and apprehension that fills the pit of his stomach and now half of a smile is embellishing his lips. This buzzing sound in his brain, maybe it’s the final signal that he should start practicing magic again, the final signal his life will feel thrilling again.

[Call you in 5. This is a consultation by the way, I’m not doing this for free.]

[Fine, you rat.] You answer with a victorious smile.

Corpse’s words linger in the air. It’s smooth like velvet -you could almost touch it if you pictured it hard enough- and it’s soothing in some way. It’s deep mumbles and bits of light chuckles and a little magic. You’re spinning slowly on your chair, playing with strands of your hair. There’s a different tone in Corpse’s voice. He sounds tired and it’s mixed with something else you can’t really pinpoint. For the best or the worst, that, has yet to be determined.

“So.” Corpse says, bringing you back to reality. “What’s that number you were talking about?”

“Right. So, I keep seeing the number 5 everywhere. I wake up at 5:55 every morning. When my eyes are looking at the clock, it’s 5:55PM and it extends to absolutely everything.” You faintly slap your palm against your thighs in exasperation.

Corpse is silent for a moment as he tries to collect the bits of knowledge that are still hanging here and there inside his mind. As he expected, the pressure below his left eyebrow makes it hard to think. He really doesn’t get why Dream wouldn’t be able to take care of a matter that sounds so frivolous. It feels like the most important piece of the puzzle is missing , the one that makes the whole picture makes sense.

“Okay, this is not really my specialty but the number 5 is an interesting angel number.” Corpse hums. The word “specialty” echoes. Dream talked about that once and somehow, that’s how you finally realized that Corpse was, indeed, a sorcerer. Not that you wouldn’t believe the information in the first place but there’s a remarkable difference between learning and experiencing. What would be his specialty then?

Dream introduced you to this new veil a couple of months ago and you never fully believed in it before getting involved. Maybe that’s why you never talked about it to anyone. Even now, your skeptical nature always finds its way back to you. He said all sorcerers had specialties and that his was clairvoyance. You don’t really know what that means but you wouldn’t ask too much. Knowledge seems like a curse in that field, or at least that’s what you have learned from Dream’s distressed tone when he talked about the past. He always sounded like a broken record, a little out of tune, as if his soul was still partially stuck back there and maybe that’s why Corpse always sounded that way too.

“Do you believe in guardian angels?” You raise an eyebrow, high voice brimming with confusion.

“Do you?” Corpse pauses, you’re silent for a couple of seconds and he realizes that he won’t get an answer to that. “The number 5 is your guardian angel trying to tell you that things are about to change in your life. In fact, it means that the process already started.”

“You’re kinda scaring me though,” you say as you readjust your sit, nose wrinkling under an almost grimace. You don’t like it, you don’t like their world. It’s not yours, you’re only a human with a mere life and an almost mere job. Sometimes, you hate Dream for letting you on this secret you were now forced to keep. It always felt so two faced.

“You don’t have to be scared, the change is only gonna benefit you.” Corpse’s voice is soft and the way you can tell he believes in the words he is speaking is almost as surprising as reassuring. You can’t help it, you don’t like change. The unknown is called that way for a reason and maybe this reason is the explanation for why it needs to remain that way.

“Sure,” you coy. “What do I do about you? That’s what really interests me.”

He scoffs. Trust me, that’s what interests him the most as well. Yet Corpse knows no answer to that. He hesitates for a second and his eyes wander into the void. Should he let you know that he doesn’t have a clue, that it somehow scares him as much as it intrigues you? It feels like his broken sorcerer ego would crack even more if he did. Maybe he just had to find out before letting you know.

“Are you obsessed with me, y/n?” Corpse winces. Why would he have to travel through sarcasmland(™) to escape the question? His eyes go wide for a second, flickering on corners of his empty room. It’s only fair that he would tease you like you tease him, right?

“You’re just being annoying now,” you mumble, cheeks flushing in a vivid tint of pink and Corpse snorts.

Corpse almost forgot about himself for a second, about that damn candle, but it hits him once the conversation fades away and the static silence is the only thing left. So he gets up, grunts in complaint rooted out by sore muscles, turns his computer on and plays some rain sounds. The melody of droplets hitting the ground is reminding him how to breathe.

“Rain sounds, huh,” you whisper. “You like those.”

Corpse hums and the two of you are left listening to the rain. It tickles your ears pleasantly, so you close your eyes and relax in the back of your chair for a moment. It’s a beautiful disharmony if you really pay attention, just like Corpse is. You feel like the conversation is about to end, you don’t want him to hang up just yet.

“Corpse?” Your voice trails for a second and Corpse hums again. “Why did you decide to be faceless?”

“What did Dream answer to that question?” His tone is interesting, a bit higher than it probably should have been. What came up as conversation modalities turns into a piqued interest.

“He never answered me," you mumble.

“So people like you can’t take advantage of our nature in real life too,” he lies and you can tell by the half chuckle that travels with the answer.

You know you won’t get more from him, way less than you wish you did. Those faceless sorcerers always leave you hanging. They let you in on their little Hannah Montana life but never bear the consequence that is this endless and flowing well of questions. The rain rings heavily through your ears. It’s time for the call to end.

"Goodbye, Mr Sorcerer,” you sing before hanging up.

When the darkness finally surrounds Corpse, he slips into a strange place that greets him with a familiar smell; vanilla and freshly cut grass. The birds are singing. He takes a long inspiration, his body knows before he does. Corpse looks around, trying to let the image of the surrounding setting sink in.

That place seems oddly familiar, yet totally new; a kitchen made of golden wooden walls. It's decorated with an old and distinguished taste. The wooden table is dressed with a pretty blue and red tablecloth. Vases of fresh flowers displayed on parts of the kitchen, dried herbs hanging above the sink in front of the window. It’s dipped in sunlight, too bright to be real. The rays of light are swaying with the shadows of branches which are dancing outside with the wind. Corpse doesn’t mind the light for once, he even closes his eyes for a second to let every pore of his body get soaked in it. God, did he miss that place.

“Honey, I was waiting for you.”

Corpse’s heart jumps a little before clutching harder. He knows who’s here, he knows it’s his unforgettable love and the idea makes him almost want to never open his eyes again. He can feel it, the profound kindness and sweet smiles that are surrounding you like it always have and it makes his eyes burn with tears that are ready to trail down his cheek, sobs jostling inside his throat. Corpse wishes he could just cover you in embraces and kisses but he can’t, he can never do that in those dreams.

Corpse tries his hardest not to let the frustration immerse him in bitterness by controlling his breathing which could get carried away at any moment now. He finally swallows it all to look at you. There’s a significant disappointment on his face when he realizes yours is as blurry as always. He wishes he could just witness this beauty one more time. He doesn’t remember what your face looks like, you’re not real. It’s nothing but a dream and you’re not here.

“I made some cookies for you.” The ghost of you says as it points out a chair that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, inviting him to take a seat as it does the same. “Those are your favorite, remember?”

With a voice sweeter than honey, so bewitching, Corpse’s body works on its own and mimics your gestures. His eyes are frozen on your silhouette. He tries to remember the shades and colors that were once painted on your face. If only he could remember.

“Did you redecorate our kitchen?” Corpse asks as he takes a bite of the cookie.

“Did I?” Your past self wonders out loud. “It’s been so long, I can’t tell.”

The treat tastes as good as it always has, Corpse takes another bite. The silence in the kitchen is delicate, contemplative. Outside, the weather is lovely; white clouds floating above the endless and bright green meadows. Corpse tries to take everything he can from that dream, from the peacefulness he feels now deep inside, and the perfume of your skin, to the sweet voice that caresses his ears. If Corpse could stay here forever, he would.

“Why are you here, my love?” You suddenly ask, forcing Corpse’s attention which he refuses by looking away.

“I wonder if the wind is warm or cool outside, maybe I should check.”

Corpse knows what happens every time you visit his dreams : you end up asking this question, he answers and suddenly he’s alone and you vanished into thin air. The response is always the same; because I miss you. It leaves him feeling lonelier than ever, craving a presence he can no longer be blessed with. Just a little bit longer, please. He blinks rapidly to expel the few tears that are forming in his eyes, so the knot inside his throat wouldn’t become more unbearable than it already is. Corpse is left feeling so desperate and helpless.

In a precipitation he almost can't control, he gets up and walks towards the door. He just wants to feel the wind on his skin. Please, just a bit longer. Corpse is almost at the door when his eyes deform with stupor under the pressure of a hand that grabs his sleeve. His heart stops, he was never able to touch you in a dream before. What changed? There’s a moment of hesitation before his eyes travel from your hand, to your arm, to your neck, to your face and he can no longer swallow his emotions when he dives into your eyes. Your eyes, he can see them.

When Corpse wakes up, wiped out of his dream, his breath is short and sweat pearls down his forehead. He’s in a rush, he remembers something about your face, something important. He knows what to look for now; your eyes, your irises. They don’t match in color. The left is green, the right has a pretty hazel color.

☾ A/N : Welcome on this new AU my friends I’m so excited to have you here with me on this new journey! I hope you liked the first chapter. A big thank you to @moontwinkles for beta reading the chapter and being a big help 💗 How are we feeling about this? Faceless leo men being sorcerers and familiar Sykkuno??? Idk I’m a little too passionate about it. Don’t worry the next chapter won’t be as angsty as this one but I needed to express my thrist for angst lmao anyway let me know what you think! Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

☾ 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 *OPEN* : @open-minded-chip-101​ ; @lochness-butmakeitsexy​ ; @bizarrebibitch​ ; @bellomi-clarke​ ; @ladybismuth​ ; @katyasrussianaccent​ ; @satanhauntedourcats​ ; @owl-llie​ ; @teenloves​ ; @notannis​ ; @mcntsee​ ; @rottenroyalebooks​​ ; @peachdoppi​ ; @mirahg​ ; @foxxtrot-116​ ; @koi-soi​ ; @lupinpetersclearwaterodairparker ; @butterfly-skinnylegend ; @fanworrior ; @stickystrawberrysyrup ;

[mondayrobot]

120-Day Fanfiction List (G)

A collection of my recommended Eren/Mikasa fanfictions for the first one-hundred and twenty days of the year.

Rating: General Audiences

a gilded world by infinitesimalll

The world was cruel. It was cold. Nearly everyday those words flowed through her mind, often accompanied by traumatic experiences.

All The Things Between You and Me by iRememberTheDark @irememberthedark

In most situations, Mikasa takes what she can get, especially where Eren, her...her...whatever he was to her, was concerned, and she was more than willing to let that pattern continue. Too bad life was so adept at kicking her out of her comfort zone.

"What am I to you?"

Mikasa asks a simple question and the world tilts.

Bad Idea by fevversinherhair

Like all bad ideas that passed between them, pretending to be dating at his brother's wedding was 100% Eren's.

Call out my name by Gcf_khaleesi

Ever since he brought her back into paths he knew that this would be the last time, he knew that he wasn't getting out of this what he was doing out there alive and she knew it as well.

canvas by orphan_account

there’s a familiarity in that question, the same one that comes along with the unspeakable way she smiles.

Cruel Decisions by solsun

The public now knows the truth of the outside world and who they are. The impending threat. No matter what, they must survive. Eren struggles with the colossal responsibility he believes he bears, the weight of an entire nation in his hands. He searches for a way to ground himself while keeping his principles intact.

demands by infinitesimalll

In all honesty, Eren hadn't expected Mikasa to take his offer after they had faced the titan who killed his mother and Hannes. It was something he said in the heat of the moment, when he was determined to survive.

for you, 2000 years later by aenar_thedragonlady

life seemed normal, as it always was but she wasn't aware of something, or rather, someone, who's been waiting for 2000 years.

fuel to my fire by aenar_thedragonlady

Being the princess of a powerful kingdom and with a legendary bloodline, Mikasa came to terms with how she was born and raised a conqueror in her father, family and kingdom's name. But when her conquest led her to Eren, a solitary king hidden in his domain far north in the mountains, she knew things could never go back to how they were.

Will she extinguish all the fires she never knew she had?

Or will she add more fuel to the flames?

ghost out of his grave by simplyhumann

At first glance, one might even think this is his glimpse of heaven. To come home to her in death, like how he always wanted to when he was alive.

It was anything but that. This was his punishment, Eren knew. To have a front row seat to the way he ruined the woman he once loved— no— still loves— and all the consequences that came after it.

hallucinating by enchantingoats

Mikasa knew it was undoubtedly her drug-addled subconscious longing for a second reunion with better odds.

Still, she wanted to touch him.

home by infinitesimalll

"in this world, i've got a place to go home to."

I’ll Take Care of You by Queenzie

When Mikasa falls sick, Eren decides that for once he needs to look after her.

Long Dream by wallmaria

“What am I to you?” Eren had suddenly said. Mikasa was again taken aback by his question. She looked at Eren’s face, there were no hints of shame when he said it, when he’s practically asking her to bare herself before him… She felt her heart pound loudly in her chest… She felt embarrassed to say the truth, but Eren also seemed to look distraught and expectant as Mikasa stammered.

not so strong after all by infinitesimalll

After a patrol in the freezing cold rain, humanity's second strongest has come down with the common cold.

Now and Forever by connectedfeelings @connectedfeelings

Waking up from a strange dream, Mikasa experiences odd visions throughout the day, all of a man and of a red scarf. Everyone leaves her with a strong sense of melancholy. Who is he? And why has he been in her mind all day? Perhaps she could ask him. Because his scarf just landed on her face, and she can't help but feel like the universe is telling her something.

New Year by Ilucida

The New Year celebration in Hizuru style was different.

remember a day we dreamt by Violea

Let's live the rest of our lives peacefully. Just the two of us.

return to me, the you of 2000 years ago by rilakkuma5 @uhhstar

Eternal return is a concept that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space.

Simpler Times by wamomo

Three moments in which Eren doesn't regret leaving and one in which he does.

some place to be at peace by bacondestiny

He remembers the feeling of his head exploding off his body and the earth quaking before him under the weight of millions of titans on the march, remembers the awful ruin and the craters and the puddles and the charred remains as he crawled after them on hundreds of ribs--but all of that is so far away. It’s so far away that he’ll never see it again. All he can see is Mikasa, smiling up at him.

It doesn’t matter what’s flowing through his veins or lurking in his bones or rattling around in his head. What matters is what he has in his arms.

sparkling green by maketea @rosekasa

mikasa wakes up to find eren has done all the work for her.

The hellfire called love by septembersnotes

I hold us together, our lives, our pitiful youth, our days under the sun- shard by shard.

The Red String of Fate by hunnyB

Alone and defeated, Eren sighs and sinks back on the bench, eyes flickering up on Mikasa's seemingly frail frame as she sleeps soundlessly beneath the white bedsheets. He stares at the peacefulness transpiring through her face, glossed lips parted gently, raven hair splayed across the pillow, and thin long eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks, giving off an extremely pleasant sight to lie eyes upon.

A sight that Eren has always had nearby but never sought, never once stopped to admire.

they are the prey by bacondestiny @inbothourhandsgloria

Eren does not want to be here.

It is sunny and warm and the birds are singing, today is the kind of day that should be spent running through the streets and splashing in the creek. He could be helping Mama with errands or Daddy with mixing medicines or Zeke with the goats. But no. Now he has to stand in this stupid line with Zeke so he can go to school. It’s terrible.

Through the Night by Diphy_D

It’s through the night when Eren’s mind doesn’t stop thinking while his hands don’t stop tracing the profile of the sleeping woman who rests at his side. The boy loses his faith and sinks alone.

And it’s through the night too when Mikasa's sweet touch calms his demons.

“We'll be free. The two of us, just wait”.

To You, 2000 Years From Now. by fetching

“You were dreaming again. What was it about?” He asks, smiling at her.

It takes a great effort not to cry.

This is it. This is home.

“Home,” She breathes. “I was dreaming about coming home.”

to you, at world’s end, a promise by AdelineVW7

She has never been one to sleep deeply, so Eren moves with deliberate gentleness. With only the tips of his fingers he caresses the dark hair splayed upon the pillow, all the while watching the rhythm of her breathing, the flitting movement of a dream beneath her eyelids.

viva la vida by zeninclan

"Mikasa, what am I to you?"

She looked down at him as the crowd watched them, standing face to face.

A soft blush spread across her skin as she stared back at him for a moment, wind pushing through their hair as they stood in silence. They had been friends since childhood. He knew everything about her, and she did the same for him.

"Family," was the answer she landed on. She cursed herself that night for not answering him honestly.

Since then, something had changed in Eren.

Warmth by ApplePapelProductions

His body, against yours. So close, so safe, the bite of the cold, the closeness of death, did not matter. Even in this fleeting moment, only to last a second, it meant more than the entire world. More than the remainders of humanity. More than the world beyond the walls. More than you could have ever imagined, no matter how many times you prayed for it to happen.

It would end soon. Maybe one day, he could tell you that he loved you, too. But until then, this was enough.

when you move I move with you by SapphireOcean

An unrequited crush comes back into Eren's life in an unusual way.

would have married you by enchantingoats

But truly it was beyond that. She was precious to him above all else, and though it was hard to put his finger on the feeling, this attachment, it had to be what they called love.

You can also check out: 2020 Eremika Fanfiction Masterlist

[thorns-and-rosewings]

Additional Owl House/ Gargoyles AU Info: OCs

Here we are with some more information regarding the AU, only this will time it will be focusing on the 3 OCs whose pics I posted a little while ago since I didn't think anyone wanted the bios jammed onto their pics.

Hope y'all think these are interesting. :)

-----Rhiannon Frostflame

Nicknames and Aliases: Rhyan or Rhya (Default nicknames) The Wyvern Witch, Ice Queen, The Best Healer on the Isles, Cruel and Fearless, Frozen Flame

Age: Roughly the same as Eda

Palisman: A Wyvern named Wisteria

Magic Specialty: Healing Magic, but is a master of Ice Magic and has created a unique spell of burning blue fire that inflicts awful frostbite and severe necrosis on anyone it comes into contact with...

Friends/Associates: Eda Clawthorne (Best friend and drinking buddy) Raine Whispers (A close friend who in spite of falling out of contact with, Rhiannon still holds them in high regards) Shaelyn Silverstone (Apprentice and Ward) Warden Wrath (Occasional Employer) Fiadh Stonespire (Grandmother figure/deceased)

Background: Rhiannon was born into one of the larger clans of the last name 'Stonespire' that still chose to follow the Gargoyle Way of communally raising their children and protecting their estate and other landholdings. They were also extremely prideful of their skilled members they contributed to the Construction Coven. From a young age, Rhiannon was considered strange due to her shunning of the clans expectations and rather developed an interest in becoming a member of the Healing Coven. Although in her youth she was particularly bad at anything involving healing, having turned several small animals inside out in her attempts to mend their injuries. Her lack of skill and stubborn pursuit of her dreams led her to be alienated from nearly all of the clan who began to treat her as an annoyance if not an embarrassment. The only individuals who showed her any affection were an older female Gargoyle named Fiadh, who Rhiannon viewed as her grandmother and Saoirse, the only rookery sister who cared about her and supported her goals.

Her fierce dedication to studying and mastering healing magics eventually paid off and she not only excelled, but grew to master every healing spell and even learned a myriad of techniques all aimed at helping others. Of course on the flip side of this, through her studies of how to heal she also learned how to inflict immense pain on others. Knowing to attack certain points where an opponent is weak in order to defeat them in a brawl, as it seemed to Rhiannon that most witches and demons had forgotten how to fight without using magic and thus a physical fight is something she can use to her advantage... And she got into fights A LOT.

When she finished her education and applied to the Healing Coven she found that she was denied membership due to her clan contacting the head of the Coven and warning him against letting her join due to her poor skills as a healer... As they had not paid attention to her enough to know of her improvement and eventual mastery of the art.

Denied her dream, humiliated by her so called clan and filled with an anger that could not be put into words, Rhiannon lost her temper and broke the jaw of the Coven Head and fled. Stating she was now going to live her life as a Wild Witch and never give a damn about anyone else ever again. She was promptly disowned by her clan, which was fine with her. She gave herself the last name of Frostflame after the spell she had created and has become synonymous with her very existence.

Personality: Rhiannon is a bit of a contradiction. At first she comes off as cold, calculating and selfish. She is extremely sarcastic and tends to believe that someone 'Can get away with anything, as long as they are useful to someone else.' Which is how she, as a Wild Witch, doesn't have a bounty on her head nor any warrents for her arrest. As she is a freelance healer whom people come to see when they either can't afford to go to the Healing Coven, or do not want there to be a record of the visit... But also members of both the Emperor's Coven and town guards bet on her in the underground fights and thus overlook that she is not in any coven... She is also not above blackmail and is currently holding a massive gambling debt over the head of Coven Head Darius. As further insurance to keep from being arrested or have the Covens forcing her to join.

However... If someone truly gets to know her, Rhiannon is a very devoted, kind hearted person who has been so burnt by the world she no longer desires to be a part of it. She has sympathy for those less fortunate than her and does genuinely wish to help the people who seek her out in need of help. She has an special soft spot in her heart for kids. Especially since in the depths of her ice cold heart she truly longs for a family. This is somewhat evident in how she took in Shaelyn and has done her best to watch out for the younger gargoyle. However her own bias's can be detrimental to the relationships she has... As she has repeatedly told Shaelyn to forget about finding out what happened to her family and missing memories. Arguing that if she forgot them there's probably a good reason for it. Which has led to a rift between her and her apprentice.

-----Shaelyn Silverstone

Nicknames and Aliases: Shae, (Default Nickname) Lyn-Lyn (From Luz)

Age: Roughly 15

Palisman: None at the moment

Magic Specialty: Is attending both the Plant track and the Oracle track in Hexside. As she has unusual visions... both while she is awake and in her sleep. These visions often warn of dark events yet to happen or strange unknown things from a past she cannot remember. While not being taught healing at Hexside, Shaelyn is receiving training in healing magics straight from her guardian Rhiannon. Due to the talent of her mentor, she doesn't believe she could learn more from the school in that subject. As for the plant track... She is in that to both hang out with her friend Willow but also to help with Rhiannons garden which tends to grow out of control more often than not. As well as helping maintain the health of the tree Rhiannon's house is currently sitting in...

Friends/Associates: Willow Park, Gus Porter and Luz Noceda (Best Friends) Rhiannon (Guardian)

Background: Little is known about Shaelyns past beyond her name. Try as she might the young Gargoyle cannot remember much of her life prior to her being found in the wrecked hull of a ship that was brought ashore by a bad storm. While she has 'Shadows of Memories' she cannot remember where exactly she was from or even the faces of her parents. Rhiannon found the girl when she was looking through the wreck and happened upon her buried underneath several heavy cargo boxes with a broken wing and a very bloody head wound. Rhiannon took her back to her home, deep in the woods and healed her. Upon realizing that the girl had no family and no memories and that she would be left in probably one of the orphanages on the Isles, Rhiannon took her in as her apprentice and Shae has been living with her for the last five years.

Although Shaelyn is in awe of her mentor and greatly admires and respects her, she often feels like a burden. Their relationship is not like that of a mother and daughter, but is probably closer to that of sisters. Or of an older sister attempting to be a mother to a younger sibling in the absence of any parents... Shae also has gone through several different means to try and find out what happened to her family... but her search has led to nothing but dead ends. It doesn't help that Rhiannon often tells her to let the subject of her family drop as she would not have forgotten them if they were close... And how she might not like what she finds if she ever does find anything.

Nonetheless, Rhiannon has done her best to take care of Shae and has enrolled her at Hexside, so she can learn other magics that Rhiannon cannot teach. It was here that Shaelyn came across the sight of Amity and Boscha bullying Willow... And using the other skills Rhyan has taught her, Shae started throwing punches and beat up both of the bullies and warned them to leave Willow alone lest they receive another beating... This was how she initially met Willow and later on Gus and the three formed a very close friendship. Some time later Luz would be introduced and Shae grows to be just as protective of her as she is of her other two friends.

Personality: Shaelyn is quite friendly and outgoing with her friends and is the first one to come to the defense of a kid that is getting bullied. Due to her training with Rhiannon she is actually pretty good at fighting physically... Unfortunately in earlier times this put Shae into direct conflict with Amity as she was often quite mean to Willow... Unaware of Amity's true nature, let alone the bullying she received from her family. Like her mentor, Shae can hold a grudge and has a long memory of people who wrong her and her friends... Only unlike Rhiannon she is more willing to give someone a second chance or allow them to make amends... This lets her and Amity to eventually become friends... Although she and Boscha will never get along and Shae will continue to administer black eyes whenever the other girl starts looking for a fight. But when it comes to complete strangers, Shaelyn can be very wary... As was evident when she and the others were looking at booths set up by the Covens for recruitment and she was approached by Hunter as the Golden Guard. Now Hunter, with his very lackluster social skills was attempting to just talk nicely and give Shae a few compliments... Unfortunately for him he came off as aloof and mocking her. This resulted in two punches to his helm and three into his ribs. The blows to the mask dented it so badly it became stuck and the blows to his ribs made it difficult to breathe... Resulting in him passing out and needing to be carried away by Steve.

Undoubtedly when she learns more about Hunter, she will be remorseful for kicking his ass.

-----Saoirse Fireglass

Nicknames: Saer (General Nickname) The Glass Maker, The Crystal Witch, Firebender and Wannabe-Matchmaker (From Rhiannon)

Age: Same as Rhiannon

Palisman: A unique serpent with four eyes and a golden moth shaped hood named Amaranth

Magic Specialty: Construction magic with the specialty of glassmaking and crystal working. She is also capable of using fire spells in a fight.

Friends/Associates: Rhiannon (Rookery sister and best friend) Eda Clawthorne (Friend) Lilith Clawthorne (Friend) Shaelyn (Niece-figure)

Background: Saoirse was born into the same clan and was even from the same clutch as Rhiannon, born with the family name of Stonespire. However unlike her Rookery sister, Saoirse was considered to be one of the most magically gifted gargoyles that had ever been born into the clan. She displayed immense talent in the construction track and was even able to master a very difficult branch of the track that dealt with glassmaking and crystal working. In spite of the heaps of praise and accolades she received amidst her family, she developed a close friendship with Rhyan and was always deeply off-put when she witnessed how she was ostracized by other members of their clan. Still upon completing her schooling she was quickly brought into the Construction Coven and was even taken under the wing of the Coven Head for a time.

But when Rhiannon was cast out from their clan, Saoirse was livid. One of the few times anyone could truly remember her getting angry. She was pretty much told by the clan leader that Rhiannon was a disgrace and that Saer was always special and brought a great deal of respect and admiration to their entire clan with her talent... so she needed to stop defending that lost soul and continue to move forward and possibly become the next Coven Head...

Saoirse formally cut ties with the clan right then and there.

She gave herself a new name and while still formally a member of the Construction Coven, she chose to renounce any Coven status she had an instead opened her own business. She did so with the blessing of the Coven Head, who remains her good friend to this day.

When it comes to her wayward Rookery sister, Saer deeply worries about Rhyan and would love to see her find a place in the world rather than trying to live outside it. Although she knows that the stubborn Wild Witch is unlikely to ever change her ways without reason...

Personality: Unlike Rhiannon, Saer is a bubbly, friendly and outgoing individual who always looks for the good in people... In fact she is probably one of the few people who believes there just might be some good inside the Emperor's heart. (When she voiced this Rhiannon laughed so hard she swallowed the cigarette she was smoking.) Due to this kind nature she has, Rhyan frequently worries about her being taken advantage of... Fortunately Saoirse also is quick witted and can pretty quickly tell if someone is trying to pull a fast one on her. She also has a weird gift for matchmaking, as she can just tell when two people are right for each other. It's something that Rhiannon frequently teases her about.

...Until she finds one stranger who seems to be just perfect for the Wild Witch...

[yourfinalbow]

hi lol this is totally random but based on a harry potter post you just reblogged and you can completely ignore me if you want, but do you think snape deserved better, or are you a quote unquote "snape apologist"? I'm genuinely curious cuz I've come across a lot of different opinions on severus. Again, feel free to ignore :)

This ended up way longer than it needed to be, and I apologize for that lmao.

Hi! Hmmm I have many mixed opinions on this. First we have to talk about which Snape. Book!Snape is actually kind of an asshole, and not in the fun way. (Way more than I remembered.) But but but Alan Rickman!Snape I like a lot.

And no I'm not mentioning Snape from TCC. That was not Snape and that world was not Harry Potter.

Snape is an interesting character because of how flawed and layered he is.

(Putting a cut because it's so long, and tw for non-detailed mentions/reference to abuse, as well as both trauma and death.)

He wasn't born in a very good household, which I can definitely see as being a reason for why he is who he is. (A reason, not an excuse. Those are two extremely different things.) You look at Sirius, who also came from a horrible household, yet he managed to dig himself out of the mud and make his own path for himself. (Though I have many angsty headcanons for the thoughts he has and being afraid of what he will do and in turn his own mind. WolfStar solidarity. Neither one of them know what they are truly capable of, and both are completely afraid to find out.

Ahem sorry I got a little distracted there.

During the Marauder's era, Snape wasn't a good person in general, but he tried to be nice to Lily. (One of the only exceptions he made.) That being said, (sorry, going on a tangent again), it does not excuse what the Marauders did. As much as they are, in my humble opinion, JK's greatest creation, they should be held accountable for both the prank, and dangling Snape upside down. (Though Remus does make a few good points in their defense later, it's still not an excuse.) Two wrongs never make a right.

Snape doesn't deny Lily's claims at him wanting to join a supremacy group, nor does he say he isn't friends with Death Eaters.

It's clear through the flashbacks we're given that Snape is apathetic in the face of innocent people dying, but once again Lily is the exception.

Dumbledore defends Snape by saying it wasn't his fault that Harry's parents are dead. I actually semi-agree with this. On one hand, he was directly at fault, but on the other hand he had no way of knowing. As a severe Loki apologist, I do not blame Loki for Frigga's death. He may have led the dark elves to her, but he didn't know it was her she was sending them to. That's the comparison I make in my mind, and so I don't completely blame him like other people do. (One could also make the argument that Sirius is to blame. Sirius, who is 100% my favorite character in the entire franchise, gave the secret keeper job to Peter, thinking it would be safer with him. However, he had no ill will or malicious intentions towards Lily, James, and Harry, so I don't blame him.)

All that being said, Snape not only would have been fine with random people dying, he also didn't care whether or not James and Harry lived.

For context:

(Dumbledore is speaking, right after Snape comes to him for help.)

"You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child?" They can die, as long as you have what you want?"

Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore.

He has a strange relationship with Lily. He obviously loves her, but not enough to want to stop Voldemort from killing the two things that bring her the most amount of happiness. It's clear he doesn't care about anyone except for Lily. Which on some level, I can understand why. When people have traumatic childhoods, they tend to hold on to a person that was there for them. Sometimes it can be the hands of the person who caused them pain in the first place, but other times it is another person who was there for him. He holds Lily's opinions of himself higher than anybody else, and he holds Lily above anybody else, and I think this can be attributed to some sort of trauma response, which is why his love for her is so unusual. That doesn't mean I think he should be fine with killing innocent people.

On the topic of trauma, I think joining the Death Eaters was another response to this, as well as a result of what kind of family he had.

Similar to both Harry and Voldemort, Snape much preferred Hogwarts to where he lived, and such the castle became his home more than his house ever was.

The Death Eaters could offer him something he had never been offered before. He belonged to something. In his own, twisted, traumatic mindset, he might have even almost seen the Death Eaters as a family. Not consciously of course, but there was definitely a feeling of belonging they gave him.

And there's something to be said about the fact that many serial killers in real life come from an abusive family. I don't pretend to understand the minds of someone who can do something so vile, but I have watched enough Criminal Minds episodes to know what they long for is control.

So being apart of this supremacy group, even though he was a half-blood himself and undoubtedly didn't entirely share Voldermort's racist beliefs, gave him both control and something he belonged to.

It's not an excuse, but it's a reason.

Alternatively, you can look at it through a quote from the most recent episode of Loki.

"It's part of the illusion. It's a cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

So it's also possible that when he was a kid, he thought being a villain was the only way to prevent others from being one to him.

Ok sorry, back on the chronological track.

So he agrees to change sides and work with Dumbledore. (Who must see just how distraught Snape was over Lily's death, to trust him immediately.)

Snape spends most of Harry's time at Hogwarts humiliating his own students. He particularly calls out Harry and his friends a lot, but I can definitely see this being a defence mechanism. He assumes Harry is James and reverts back to what we talked about earlier. (Becoming the villain so nobody else has a chance.)

But but but, he does a lot of good throughout the books. Snape mutters the countercurse, saving Harry from Quirrell during the Quidditch match. He then actually referees at the next match, preventing anything from happening altogether.

In retrospective, we see that he spends most of the first book helping Dumbledore by protecting the stone, and helping Lily by protecting Harry.

Now I could go through and list the goods and the bads of Snape throughout the entire series, but I have neither the time nor the patience, and I think you get the point.

(Except I would like the mention that Snape becomes a double agent for Dumbledore in book four, and risks his life every single day by constantly betraying Voldermort, and never once does he use this as a way to double cross Dumbledore. This was actually probably really hard on him. You can assume that having to pretend to be a Death Eater means he had to do some despicable things just so he didn't blow his cover. If he really has changed by this time, which I would like to think he has, is a lot of added guilt to live with.)

(I would also mention that he tried to save Sirius in book five, but... *falls on floor dramatically* I don't want to think about it.)

Severus Snape's time comes to the end in book seven. At the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his death is a valiant act of sacrifice. Protecting the living and defending the honour of the fallen.

So, he has done a lot of bad in his lifetime, but by the time we as readers get to know him, his fundamental set of beliefs have begun to change. Through the eyes of what started as an eleven year old boy, you can definitely see that even after this he wasn't necessarily a good person.

And that's because his good is behind the scenes. He's good on a larger scale. He's chosen the light over darkness, but in his everyday life he's still the scared, traumatized little kid he's always been.

And him being this way has reasons, but these reasons are not excuses.

Sorry anon, this kind of turned into a long winded review of the entire character. I know that's not really what you asked, so I'll sum it up in a final few sentences sentence.

Yes. I wish Snape had gotten to live. Not because I'm necessarily a "Snape apologist", but because I find his character interesting, and seeing his reaction to his sacrifice could have been a really good read. Also Harry coming up and thanking him would have been really touching, and as a cherry on top maybe we could have gotten to read Harry apologizing for his father. Maybe even Snape sharing memories of Lily?! (Sorry that might have gotten a little to fanfic-y.)

That being said, his death being a final sacrifice towards the good of everyone, and a final testimony to his change of heart, was -- and I'll give JK credit just this once -- good storytelling, and a good way to end it.

Also I like movie!Snape because fuck yeah he's just so awesome.

If anyone has anything to add/take away, or they just want to discuss the wonder that was Alan Rickman, let me know! (Ask/Comment/Reblog/Etc.)

[laceymorganwrites]

Callous heart

Word count: 1,749

Pairing: Kitsune!Suna x Human!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Suna watches you from afar, wanting nothing more than to protect you. He decides it´s better to do it from a distance.

You live in a village where foxes are worshiped, Suna, being one of those, hates the fact that his kind aren´t what you make them out to be.

A/N:  "At war with the world, yet worlds apart To return is a promise I can't make You see, we together have The Callous Heart Because Callous Hearts don't break." - Creeper, Black Rain (it just fits so well, I had to share it)

Taglist: @wansseul @newfriendjen @varia-venus @luvsuna

Event masterlist

In the small village you grew up in, people believed in fox deities.

They made offerings to them in the form of crops and overall parts of the harvest in hopes to be guided to heaven after they died.

Foxes were worshiped in your area, it was the only thing that kept the villagers going in their secluded life.

Travelers who came through your village always were interested to hear about the legends.

Your family was always so nice and welcoming to everyone, their warmth and kindness passing down onto you.

A lot of elderly people settled down in your village as well as it was so peaceful.

The appearing of foxes wasn´t uncommon whatsoever, they were as much inhabitants as humans.

Maybe that´s why they were worshiped. In mythology they usually were looked down upon as tricksters who only meant trouble, but because you were living together in peace, you came to the belief that they were giving you their good will.

Thus the fascination for foxes was born. You couldn´t help but notice how cunning and elegant they were, how perceptive.

Sometimes the foxes got injured and you´d treat them, having your own little clinic and shop for travelers where you sold salves and ointments.

The day your parents passed, the foxes guided them to the afterlife.

However, the way you saw the foxes and the way they truly were, were two different things.

They were supposed to guide people to hell, easing their way to sin, tempting them and bringing them to ruin.

That was their sole purpose.

And Suna fucking hated it.

It was way too much work every single damn time.

Besides, why should he bring someone to ruin who helped him out his entire life? Who healed his wounds and watched over him?

Because Suna refused to do his work for the devil, he got exiled from his pack, now living in your village with other foxes like him.

You were his favorite human though, you didn´t seem to judge, your kindness and smile were infectious and most importantly you had that warm and comforting aura around you.

Suna often wondered what it would be like to show himself to you in his true form, but he never dared, not wanting to scare you.

The demon foxes looked human enough, but then again, there were the ears and the nine tails.

Yet, he didn´t really have any other choice.

Every full moon, he needed to change into his original form because otherwise he´d be stuck as a fox.

He wouldn´t really mind it that much, but it was such a bother not to follow this routine he had for the past century.

Besides, somehow he felt as if something bad would happen if he didn´t change back on this fateful night.

Suna went into the woods to transform, it was a peaceful and quiet night. The villagers celebrated the full moon with a big campfire and food.

It always was a nice get together in which everyone exchanged stories, most of the travelers came through on the full moon as well.

Other demon foxes would die for the opportunity to wreak havoc and chaos here, to manipulate the minds of the humans and then lead them into hell, but Suna wouldn´t let that happen.

Not over his dead body.

You lived in this village and he´d rather let himself get tortured in hell than to sell you out like that.

Him and his friends protected your village with their magic, it drained them a bit, but it was worth it.

You´ve always been so kind to them, you didn´t deserve a forced death.

All Suna wanted was for you to be able to live your life the way you wanted to, to its fullest, without any cruel interruptions, without any ill intended temptations.

Suna was too caught up in his thoughts, he didn´t even notice you approaching.

To be fair, you didn´t quite notice him in the woodwork, too busy carrying firewood for the festival.

Only when you were gone, did he let out the breath he was holding and finished his transformation.

Though, he concealed his ears and tails.

It was stupid and reckless, but this time Suna was the one being tempted, tempted for a false sense of humanity.

He made his way through the woods, following your trail to find his way to the campfire.

Everyone was preparing and working with each other, you and some others prepared the fire while the rest carried logs to sit on and tables to put the food and drinks on.

The laughter and chatting could be heard throughout the forest even, it brought a smile to Suna´s lips.

Why could anyone want to destroy all that happiness? What did you ever do to deserve that?

You caught Suna´s eyes and walked over to him, greeting him with a big smile.

“You must be a traveler, I haven´t seen you before” you started talking to him in a friendly tone and Suna felt touched to his core, nobody ever treated him like an equal.

Yet he still felt bad for fooling you. Maybe one day he´d have the courage to reveal himself to you.

He nodded in response, affirming your statement.

“How long do you plan on staying? Or are you just coming through? Either way, you´ve come at the perfect time, we´re having a festival for the full moon. Please join us” you told him, grabbing his hand to lead him towards the campfire.

Suna´s eyes went wide. You just… touched him… why did that make him feel so warm inside?

He followed you and sat down on one of the logs after you told him so. To be honest, he felt a bit out of place, not being used to being part of anything.

But he enjoyed it. He felt welcome.

Though it was quite unusual and Suna had trouble fitting in, he felt at ease.

He felt at ease doing what he always did, watching over you, making sure nobody would come between you and your happiness.

Listening to the stories the elders told him about the legends and all, he found himself smiling to himself.

Oh how wrong they were. But he couldn´t tell them, he couldn´t bring himself to.

“Isn´t it beautiful?” you sat down next to him, looking up at the sky, now painted golden with the fire.

Your eyes were sparking with excitement and it was infectious, Suna found himself nodding along to everything you said, listening to you thoroughly.

“You´re not one to talk, are you?” you giggled, making the faintest blush appear on his cheeks.

“Talking´s too much of a bother” he admitted, Suna preferred to stay to himself, besides, talking only meant sharing things about himself and honestly, that could be dangerous.

“But how am I gonna get to know you if you don´t talk?” you asked curiously, lightly tapping his shoulder.

There it was again, that curious, sunny smile that just made him melt.

He shouldn´t be here.

It wasn´t right, it wasn´t his place.

“You shouldn´t get to know me” and yet, he couldn´t stop himself, enjoying your presence way too much to let it go.

“You do know that that´s only gonna make me want to know you more” you giggled.

Suna sighed, looking into your eyes the first time and getting lost.

“Come on, tell me something about yourself, stranger” you teased, you were quite persistent and Suna realized in this moment that he made a huge mistake.

He should´ve never interfered with you, never shown himself to you.

You´d only get hurt that way. Hurt because of him.

But it was too late, Suna got carried away, protecting you and watching you from afar.

Catching feelings for a human… how pathetic.

How was he supposed to help it, though? You made it too easy.

“Suna… that´s my name” he said quietly before it was too late.

What did he even try here? He shouldn´t talk to you, he shouldn´t tell you anything about himself…

If he did, he´d fall even more for you, be more vulnerable. He´d want to show himself to you more and that couldn´t happen.

If it did, he´d have to tell you the truth about him, his kind.

He never wanted to hurt you like that, he wanted you to live a peaceful life without demon foxes interfering.

“I´m (Y/N), it´s nice to meet you!” you smiled and shook his hand, making him chuckle slightly.

You were so formal, yet so excited at the same time, it made him happy.

“So, Suna, what brings you here?” you asked, watching him stare off into the distance.

He thought about that for a while, deciding to tell the truth, it was too late anyway, he already revealed too much.

“I wanted to get away from my family. They´re very… violent in the way they think. I´m a disappointment to them because I don´t want to participate in their ways. I just needed to get away” he confessed.

You gently placed a hand on Suna´s arm for comfort.

“I´m sorry you had to go through that, but you´re always welcome here” you let him know and the worst thing was that you meant it. You were actually willing to let a demon reside in your village.

Suna realized that he wasn´t any better than the rest of his kind, he was fooling you just as much, bringing just as much ruin upon you.

“You have a good soul, (Y/N). Please never change” he stated, his pain emitting from the words as he patted your head as a gesture of goodbye.

Suna shouldn´t interfere with your life. He didn´t have any right to.

Instead he just enjoyed the evening with you until he went back into the woods, strengthening the protecting spell once again before returning to hell.

It wasn´t in the same state as it was when he left. The new ruler was much more kind than the last one, welcoming him back and offering him to bring souls in the way he wanted to.

Suna felt at peace.

Sure, he had decided to leave you alone, not giving you the chance to get to know him in fears of hurting you, but he´d still be able to lead you to the afterlife when your time came.

Somehow that made him happy, happy to be reunited with you at some point, to be able to explain and apologize.

[crackinglamb]

You Have Chosen Nydha To Be Your Companion!

Hopping off @little-lightning-lavellan's idea to take a DA:I OC and turn them into a companion, may I present Banal'ras Nydha (from Hope Is a Fragile Thing) and her wiki page.

General

Banal'ras Nydha looks human, although there is something that doesn't seem quite right about her. She has dark hair and skin and startlingly green eyes, and speaks with a low, raspy voice. It is often difficult to find her in a room. Nydha first appears, and is available to recruit, in the Temple of Sacred Ashes before attempting to close the Breach. She offers knowledge and combat tactics against demons. If dismissed, or never spoken to, she will then be spotted in Haven behind Solas's cabin. She will not be available to recruit at that time, although once the Inquisition is relocated to Skyhold, she will make an offer to travel with the Inquisitor. If dismissed again, she will become a non-interactive NPC in the Rotunda, usually found near the mural or atop the scaffolding. If she is never recruited, she will disappear from Skyhold after the final battle with Corypheus.

Nydha is not romanceable by any Inquisitor, but can engage in a relationship with Solas if a female Dalish Inquisitor has not done so. She is friendly and bonds well with most of the other party members, especially Cole, Dorian and, of course, Solas. She prefers diplomacy and tends towards mediation rather than confrontation. If a Dalish Inquisitor has romanced Solas, and has high approval, Nydha will offer comfort and sympathy upon termination of the relationship. If low approval, Nydha has nothing to say.

She has strong opinions on the plight of elves, slaves and mages. She is supportive of any measures that would improve the lives of them. Her early banter with Dorian revolves around debating Tevinter's practices and trying to get him to see a better way. She will also speak with Iron Bull about the shortcomings of the Qun, although never with the same level of disdain as Solas. While she never openly mocks the Chantry or Andrastianism, she isn't a strong supporter or believer and has no opinion on who becomes Divine.

Location

In Haven, Nydha can be found behind Solas's cabin, usually in the darkest corner. Once the Inquisition relocates to Skyhold, she can be found in either the Arcane Library or the Rotunda.

Approval

Nydha's approval level is based upon empathy. An Inquisitor who is helpful, respectful and curious will gain approval. Nydha has no opinion on quests such as Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts or the outcome of Here Lies the Abyss, but approves diplomatic resolutions to judgments. She will greatly approve allying with the Free Mages, and only slightly approve conscripting the Templars. Conscription of the Free Mages or allying with the Templars will result in full disapproval. She will greatly approve Iron Bull becoming Tal-Vashoth and keeping Cole as a spirit. Actions that are ruthless or cruel will lose approval.

A high approval Inquisitor will learn that Nydha was born in another world and 'crossed over' through the Veil when the Breach opened. She will tell the Inquisitor that her name was given to her as a gift from someone she met in the Fade. She does not, however, say that it is Solas (see below for unique Trespasser dialogue). She will say that her name means 'Shadow of Night', according to her translation. A Dalish Inquisitor can have special dialogue to recognize the name as being Elvish and can question how a human came to have it. Nydha will answer that it is because the native language of the Fade is Elvish, a remnant from when elves held all of Thedas before human arrival.

A low approval Inquisitor will not learn this part of her history and she will remain an enigma. If approval falls to zero, she will refuse to speak to the Inquisitor, although she does not leave and is still available as a companion.

Quests

Survivor In the Shadows – the quest for meeting Nydha initially at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It begins upon speaking with her, and ends with either recruitment or dismissal.

From the Ashes – only available after either In Hushed Whispers or Champions of the Just, but before completion of In Your Heart Shall Burn, Nydha will ask the Herald to accompany her back to the Temple of Sacred Ashes to search for her few belongings. The Herald will find a journal, a bundle of unusual clothes and a single unmarked vial. Nydha will approve completing this quest.

A Better Form – Nydha will ask for help in stabilizing her corporeal body if Dagna is brought into the Inquisition. Resolution of this quest will involve having Dagna create a unique amulet that will act as a permanent grounding source, rather like a lightning rod. Components for this amulet are: 1 blank rune stone, 1 wisp essence, and either 5 dawnstone or 5 volcanic aurum (both imbue constitution bonuses). It will act as an Amulet of Power, granting Nydha an extra skill point. This is the only time such an ability will be available to her. This will also allow her to wear other amulets throughout the remainder of the game. She, and Solas, will greatly approve completing this quest.

Twice-Born – available during the Jaws of Hakkon DLC. Nydha, if in the party, will ask to speak with the Augur of Stone-Bear Hold once relations with the hold have been established. If she is not among the Inquisitor's party, she will be found in the main scout camp near Professor Kenric. What the two speak about will be unknown, but at the end of the quest, Nydha will inform the Inquisitor that she has been given the legend-mark Twice-Born from the hold's 'gods'. Cole will greatly approve completing this quest, regardless of whether or not he is in the party.

Note: This quest is not dependent upon approval, but is the only time she will speak with a zeroed out Inquisitor, should that level of low approval be reached.

Ability Tree/Specialization

Nydha is technically a rogue, and can utilize either a bow or double daggers. She has an autolevel preference for the Subterfuge tree, and has an additional, unique starting skill in Fade Cloak. This does not require further leveling to be active. It is the only skill that cannot be deactivated from her skillset.

She can specialize in either Tempest or Rift Mage, due to her nature as a being from the Fade. She is not otherwise a mage. Her decision on specialization can be influenced, as she will ask the Inquisitor's opinion. If no opinion is given, she will default to taking Tempest.

Combat comments

“Come get some!”

“Catch me if you can!”

(If specialized in Tempest) “Burn, baby, burn.”

(If specialized in Rift Mage) “Ooh, the stuff of nightmares.”

Kills an enemy

“Another one bites the dust.”

“Cool story, bro.”

“Then perish.”

Low Health

“This was not on my agenda today.”

“A little help?”

Low Health (Companions)

For all general companions: “I have your back.”

If in a romance with Solas: “Take a breather, fenorain.”

Fallen Companions

For all general companions: “I'll make them pay!”

If in a romance with Solas: “NO!”

Location Comments

Ferelden:

Hinterlands: “Why is it so big? Why is everything so big?”

Fallow Mire: “I have mud in unmentionable places. Can we go now?”

Storm Coast: “I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and sky.”

If companions question her: “It's just from a poem I once read.”

Orlais:

Exalted Plains: “So much death. Can't you feel it?”

Emerald Graves: “This forest is old. Very old.” [laughs] “I always wanted to say that in proper context.”

Emprise du Lion: “Stay away from the bloody lyrium. And wear a hat.”

At Suledin Keep after Imshael, if Solas is in the party: “Ir abelas, lethallin.” (If romanced) Ir abelas, fenorain.”

Solas's reply (only translated if the Inquisitor is Dalish): “Ma serannas. Ea lam'an.” (It is in the past)

At the Pools of the Sun, regarding the trio of dragons: “Can't we just leave them alone? They really won't hurt anyone if we keep our distance.”

Hissing Waste: “You know, if you ignore the endless vista of sand, it's really quite beautiful. In a bleak kind of way.”

Western Approach: “Hot. Hot and blighted. I need a drink.”

Forbidden Oasis, upon reaching the second camp: “That's it, I'm never leaving.”

Arbor Wilds: “Mind your footing. This place is full of secrets.”

In Val Royeaux: “Pretty place.”

Frostback Basin: “I could stay here forever. Even with the varmints.”

The Descent: “Nice and dark, just the way I like it.”

At the Wellspring: “Wow...that's amazing.”

Trespasser: “Now it all ends, my friend.”

If the Inquisitor questions the statement: “You'll see soon enough.”

Companion/Advisor comments

Varric – Gotta watch out for Spooky, there's something about her I can't put my finger on.

Cassandra – She is an able fighter, but I would not trust her out of my sight, which is far too often.

Solas – She is secretive by nature, but I would assure you that she means no harm.

Iron Bull – She's a tricky one. Good fighter, lotta secrets. Good at keeping them too. I don't think I've cracked a single one that she didn't tell me herself.

Dorian – She's fascinating. I am not at liberty to say why, of course, if you don't already know.

Cole – Bright as the sun and scattered as the stars. She wants to help, just like I do.

Vivienne – She seems capable enough, my dear. But I would not dare to trust her. She is an accomplished player of the Game, for all her smiles and good cheer.

Sera – She's as bad as Creepy, although she's better at jokes. She's better at hiding than I am!

Blackwall – She knows something. She knows too many somethings.

Josephine – She keeps to herself and has caused no diplomatic incidents. I wish I could say the same for some of the others gathered here.

Leliana – I find it curious that I cannot find any solid evidence of her existence before the Conclave, but that does not automatically mark her a spy. However, her nature makes me no more inclined to trust her. I would be wary of her.

Cullen – Who? Oh, the...shadowy...person. I hear she can handle herself. I can't say I've spoken with her, so I don't have an opinion.

Trespasser

There is a unique dialogue tree available to the Inquisitor while speaking with Solas if Nydha was recruited as a companion.

“Did you know about Nydha?”

“Yes, I am the one who gave her her name. I found her while I yet slept, and she became corporeal after the Breach.”

(First branch) “Is she one of your agents?”

“No. She has only ever been my friend.”

(Special, if not romanced) “Your friend? It seemed to be more than that.”

“In another world, perhaps.”

(Second branch) “Is she joining you?”

“No, I would not wish her on this path.”

(Third branch) “She knew this whole time. Why didn't she tell me?”

“She had her reasons for not telling you. (If high approval) I hope you will not hold them against her.”

Regardless of approval, Nydha disappears after the Exalted Council. She settles in the Frostback Basin among the Avvar. A high approval Inquisitor will receive correspondence from her from time to time, but she will refuse to come back to the 'civilized' nations of Thedas, preferring privacy and isolation.

Trivia

If in the party during Here Lies the Abyss, the Nightmare demon will speak to her in Elvish. Her reply is a scoff and nothing else.

Nydha can be a third option at the Vir'Abelasan if she is in the party. If she is chosen to drink from the Well, Abelas does not object, although he will still point out that she will be bound as they are. If Nydha drinks, she will summon Flemeth and work with the Inquisitor to tame the dragon for the final confrontation with Corypheus. If she is in the party during Trespasser, she will be able to provide the password to the spirit guards, preventing a fight.

If Morrigan is allowed to attack Abelas, she will attempt to defend him and will argue that the witch is not worthy of the knowledge she seeks if brutality is her only way to get it. If there is a peaceful alliance with the Sentinels and Morrigan is chosen to drink, Nydha will slightly disapprove but hold her tongue on the matter.

If the Inquisitor drank from the Well, and succeeds in finding enough clues to determine that Solas is Fen'Harel, Nydha will appear saddened when the Inquisitor rebuts to the Viddasala that they already know. She will state that this was what she'd been waiting for. The Inquisitor will have the option to accuse her of knowing the whole time. She will answer yes, but she won't explain.

If Nydha is never recruited, and remains an NPC in the Rotunda, one will hear her occasionally speak with Solas. These conversations range in topic from books they are reading to the mural. Never about Inquisition business. There is a slight chance to hear them speaking in Elvish, and their words are not translated, regardless of Inquisitor's race. Solas's replies appear to be noncommittal.

Nydha will remark upon the Inquisitor's romantic choices, usually with something supportive and a hope that they are happy together. She will also comment something generally pleasant about each companion if asked. The exception to this is if Iron Bull remains Ben-Hassrath. Nydha will caution the Inquisitor to be careful of telling him too much since his loyalty is now unknown.

It can be implied from various interactions and from high approval conversation that Nydha was in fact aware of everything that would happen during the course of the game. She never gives a reason for keeping her silence on matters pertaining to what foreknowledge she had, although any input given during the game events is sound and often given in such a way so as not to risk suspicion.

It can also be implied that regardless of what Solas says during Trespasser, Nydha has actually left the Inquisition to join his ranks, or at least does not stand opposed to him. This is not confirmed, however, and according to her epilogue card, she is enjoying a quiet life in the Frostback Basin with no intention of ever interfering with Thedosian politics or events again.

[foxofthedesert]

So I just finished my 3rd watch thru of Merlin, and yet again am brokenhearted. Not only by Arthur's death and Merlin's grief, but by Morgana's tragic descent into madness. Though I loathed the choice, I always understood why the writers went the direction they did with Morgana. What I did not understand was the way they handled her relationship with Gwen. It just never made any sense to me that Morgana could be so cruel to someone she clearly loved very deeply - even if only in the platonic sense. To me, it seemed like the Morgana that existed at the end of season 2 was replaced by a totally different, inexplicably cruel and insufferably smirky one by the start of season 3.

Still, prophecies need fulfilled and such, and after all it is a fantasy series based on a complicated mythology where Morgana sometimes is portrayed as evil. I just wish it was handled better.

Be that as it may, as a writer I tend to gravitate toward the untold stories within canon. That being the case, Gwen and Morgana's relationship is a natural attraction. I adore their chemistry, which makes them so easy to pair up. Since I am also not necessarily beholden to canon, that means I can imagine whatever the hell I want for them. Such an AU where their potential is realized before Morgause enters the picture to warp Morgana into her father's daughter.

This little piece is part of that. I may or may not add more entries in the future.

As a side note, this was initially supposed to be much shorter, but my fingers wouldn't stop typing words. Silly digits.

Ficlet below the line!

Morgana awoke giggling in an entirely unrefined manner. Her uncharacteristic bubbly mirth, she discovered, was due to a gentle tickling sensation all across her face. Once the wispy haze of sleep was blinked out of her blurry eyes, a familiar shape resolved into an entirely too handsome face wearing such a love-sick expression that her chest reflexively suffused with an affectionate warmth that quickly seeped into her very bones.

“What time is it?” she asked to the person hovering above her, voice still gravelly and slightly slurred from having been roused out of such a deep, blessedly dreamless repose. The pleasant tickling sensation began anew immediately after her half-slurred inquiry, and when she lifted her gaze she was greeted by rich brown eyes she would swear on her life she could live and die in.

“Just after dawn.” The utterly enchanting creature paying her such lovely attention continued to delicately and reverently brush calloused fingertips across the expanse of her jaw. “Sorry I woke you. I meant to let you sleep in a bit longer, I just really couldn’t help myself.”

A pause allowed a full, dusky lip to be pulled rather invitingly between pearly white teeth before her beloved added, “It seems I never can where you are concerned.”

Morgana smiled. A genuine smile, too. Nothing like the false ones she graced her guardian with, full of barely suppressed loathing and rage. Lately she had been consumed by disgust for the man who so many times proclaimed to cherish her, a man who would see her burnt at the stake if he knew who she truly was. Uther Pendragon claimed to be a fair and just king, yet he waged unlawful wars against territories that dared stand up against his brutish rule and relentlessly persecuted innocents whose only crime was to be born different. People like her. People with magic.

Coming to terms with her gifts had cost Morgana both countless nights spent in wakeful torment over horrific visions that plagued her dreams and untold days spent wrestling with throat-clogging anxiety over the possibility of discovery. There were many occasions during that frightening period in which she felt as though tottering precariously over a dark, abyssal chasm at the bottom of which lie only inescapable madness. Every second spent at court was an exhausting exercise in choking down a nauseating terror of the tyrant who held the power of life and death over her and would surely decide upon the latter should he learn the truth about her magic. Meals were a unique form of torture due to the perpetual knot residing in her stomach and every event she would normally revel in was transformed into a dreaded affair during which she could scarcely breathe for the crushing weight resting upon her chest.

Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Guinevere and Merlin she is sure she would have already plummeted headlong into those foreboding depths, right into the waiting arms of a hatred no human heart could withstand without incurring irreparable damage.

If Merlin hadn’t told her the truth about his magic as he lead her to Aglain’s druid camp, the pervasive sense of isolation and desperation worming insidiously through her mind would have inevitably forced her into drastic choices. Even before her magic manifested she had silently nursed treasonous thoughts toward Camelot’s cruel monarch. What might she have done if the walls closed in so tightly on her she felt there was no avenue of escape outside of acting upon those unsavory impulses? It hardly bears thinking about for risk of inviting such evil desires back in to her heart when of all her attributes, it is her heart which makes her most special – or at least that is what Guinevere insists to be the case.

Thankfully, finding a steadfast friend and ally in Merlin had done much to ameliorate the suffocating feeling of helplessness she felt as a member of the court harboring so deadly a secret. With much diligence and patience he was teaching her to control her powers, to harness them for good, and to have faith that better days were ahead for their kind. It was also mostly due to the Merlin’s deceptive wisdom and boundless optimism – and to be fair what reasonable person could resist that impish, dimpled smile? – that she began to view Arthur through a fresh lens.

If she bothered to look deeply, as Merlin insisted, to ignore the chauvinistic bravado and infuriating superiority complex, it was not difficult to recognize Arthur’s innate nobility and compassion that existed despite his monstrous father. And seeing as Merlin was as stubborn as he was convincing, it did not take long for Morgana to accept with a cautiously hopeful heart that with the aid of loyal friends, Arthur had it in him to become to the greatest sovereign Camelot had ever seen, a king who might actually prove himself worthy of the people both common and magical to whom he would be sworn to serve. Of course, she and Arthur still had their mundane squabbles and butted heads frequently over political and legal matters, but in the months since Merlin began her training, Morgana had acquired a new appreciation for the young man who was to her as good as a sibling.

As much as Merlin had done for her, however, it paled in comparison to Gwen’s contributions to her health and happiness.

For as long as Morgana had known Gwen she had held the blacksmith’s daughter in esteem far higher than any Lady should their maidservant. What started out as mutual respect born from shared grief over the loss of a parent soon flowered into genuine friendship. For many years they were the best of friends, each providing for the other a refuge from the storms of life and a confidante more reliable and wise and loyal than could be hired with all of Midas’ gold.

By the time Morgana entered womanhood, her fondness for Gwen had only swelled to become boundless as it was profound. In her eyes, Gwen was the most wonderful person in all the world; none could hope to be her equal in breathtaking beauty, charitable kindness, seemingly endless stores of patience, altogether praiseworthy meekness, a silent strength surpassing steel, or in nearly saintly levels of graciousness. Gwen was the unfailing light to Morgana’s rapidly encroaching darkness, the quickening sun to her deathly pale moon, the Aurora to her Luna. She neither trusted any more deeply as she did Gwen, nor did she desire the company of another so keenly. As a result, they were rarely parted until retiring for bed, and then only by necessity of station. So inextricably attached were they Gwen’s friends often jested that she must have accidentally stitched herself to her lady’s garments at the hip. The noblewomen were not nearly so kind. Some of the more prominent Ladies in the castle questioned the innocence of their arrangement, going so far as to exchange idle speculation which painted them as clandestine devotees of Sappho.

If Morgana could be bothered to care about the rumors, she would have confronted the useless busybodies long ago. But quite frankly, their opinions on her relationship with Gwen mattered for naught seeing as Arthur dismissed them as absurd upon reaching his ears and, beyond even that, Morgana would rather die than provide the snide gossipers ammunition that might serve as tacit confirmation that their unwelcome conjecture was not without merit – which was in fact the case.

All the same, though, she took great pains to prevent them from reaching the ears of the king. Uther already disapproved of their unusual bond and reminded her of such every time she treated Gwen with an ounce of basic human dignity while in his presence. Rather than censure the prejudice as she might have no long ago, Morgana now bore the chastisement with pride. Were it required, she would gladly wear forty stripes upon her skin if that be the price of Gwen’s love. The haughty bigotry of her guardian could never dissuade her from the path her heart had chosen to travel. Gwen was far too precious to ever surrender without a fight, to death if she must.

For what felt like ages, Morgana had believed her feelings would never be reciprocated. And that was perfectly acceptable to her, so long as Gwen remained an integral part of her life. The constant yearning that caused her chest to ache, sometimes almost painfully, was something she could endure so long as Gwen was happy.

That perspective radically transformed the night Gwen’s father died.

The midnight bells sounded in the citadel as Morgana slipped out into the upper town. Her intentions were pure at the time. She had only meant to visit her friend and offer what support she could, no matter the reckless impropriety of her visiting the her maidservant’s home so late at night. Instead, one glimpse of Gwen’s devastation over the pointless tragedy reignited her rage. All too quickly it boiled over, allowing those old, bitter feelings to spill out as impetuous threats of vengeance, and not only on Gwen’s behalf but for all those wronged by the merciless hand of Uther Pendragon. For what felt like hours she railed, heedless of the effect her malicious speech was having on the distraught girl she was supposed to be comforting.

It was only when Gwen – sweet Gwen, kind and thoughtful and selfless to a fault – had been pushed to her limits that Morgana’s perilous vitriol was interrupted.

Casting aside station, Gwen grasped her by the face and made her swear to never utter such dangerous words again.

“My brother has already abandoned me and now both my parents are dead,” Gwen had said, lips quivering and cheeks stained by tears. “I can’t lose you, too. I can’t. I won’t survive it.”

“Of course you would, Gwen. You’re the strongest person I know,” Morgana had replied, grasping reflexively at lean wrists, Gwen’s hands having migrated to the back of Morgana’s neck, thumbs cupped round the front of her ears. It was the first time she had been embraced so intimately, and if it weren’t for her anger she most certainly would have shivered with excitement at the surprisingly welcome contact.

“I’m not,” Gwen had half-sobbed, voice hoarse from hours surrendered to grief. “I’m only standing at all right now because the person I love most in all the world is here with me.”

Morgana hadn’t understood the nature of that declaration at first. Not until Gwen tucked her lip between her teeth, her nostrils flared with what could not be misinterpreted as anything but raw want, and her eyes went impossibly dark. A sharp gasp of realization was all Morgana could manage as a response, so stunned was she that her most secretive and treasured wish was being fulfilled.

But when Gwen nodded, chest heaving with emotion, despair and fear warring with adoration in her eyes, Morgana could no longer contain herself. Suddenly all the pieces of the puzzle fused together, revealing the explanation as to why a simple smile from Gwen was able to chase away the storm clouds gathering above her head, or why Gwen’s chiming laughter kicked up butterflies in her stomach and a captivating warmth in her chest, or why even the most airy of touches from Gwen left a wake of goose-flesh in her skin. It wasn’t just love. It was destiny.

In retrospect, Morgana probably should have been as if not more terrified of crossing that final, socially forbidden line between mistress and servant, friend and lover, than she was of being magical. The thing of it was, the only relevant factors in that moment was Gwen willingly offering of herself more than she probably should and Morgana being selfish enough to accept.

They made love that night beneath Gwen’s threadbare sheets, and it was glorious, just as Morgana had imagined it would be.

All of their sorrows and anxieties and animosities drifted away like dandelion seeds upon a crisp summer breeze. Cliches regarding such unions suddenly made sense. Somewhere along the journey that began by laving the stiffened peak of a pert breast then languidly progressed into nestling her face into the delicate, aromatic flower situated between smooth bronze legs, she lost all sense of self. It was as if with each bruising kiss, playful nibble, and greedy draw with open mouth, she and Gwen were merging into one being. Gwen’s throaty noises and keening pleas reverberated through her every muscle fiber, down even into the very marrow of her bones. Gwen’s intoxicating flavor permeated her senses until it was all she could taste or smell. And Gwen’s gratification became hers as her hand slipped beneath her ridiculously extravagant undergarments to relieve the desperate pressure upon a mound so slick with arousal that the sound of her feverish rubbing was positively obscene.

Mere heartbeats after Gwen went taut with a silent scream, stars exploded behind Morgana’s eyes as the most exquisite mixture of pleasure and pain engulfed her mind and set her nether regions aflame. Spent and unable to control her trembling limbs, she collapsed across Gwen’s heaving chest. Strong arms immediately wrapped around underneath her arms to pull her in tight, and as she buried her nose in the damp curls at Gwen’s neck, all she could do was weep, utterly overcome by an unspeakable joy she understood without needing to ask was fully mutual. They fell asleep like that, Morgana stretched across Gwen, encased in an embrace that felt like a subconscious announcement of a claim upon her, heart and soul and body, something she not only welcomed but reveled in.

Wonderful thoughts about publicly belonging to Gwen lulled Morgana into a peaceful sleep that went markedly undisturbed.

In the pale light of morning she was still so drunken upon pure, heady, all consuming bliss to realize she would be missed if she did make an appearance in the castle. Had Gwen not pointed that out, she would have been more than glad to spend the entire day wrapped around her new lover, discovering every last spot that made Gwen’s toes curl ‘til the girl was too exhausted to move the tiniest muscle.

Alas, the constraints of reality marshaled both of them to action, and so once they had dressed, they sneaked carefully into the castle by auxiliary corridors during the changing of the guard. By only the slimmest of margins, they slipped into her chambers just as the fresh patrol rounded the corner in their direction. Once inside, the thrill of the close call and euphoria over their consummated love invigorated Morgana into a passion she could not ignore. Overcome by a need – more like an almost maddening hunger really – to touch, smell, and taste every delicious inch of the skin she had feasted upon last night, she unceremoniously dragged a breathless, ruddy cheeked Gwen straight over to her bed.

After that thorough christening, they lingered together in a tangle of limbs, both sated and happy. At least until the sound of Camelot’s awakening resounded through the chambers from the courtyard below and with it the first doubts crept in. Morgana could recall the subsequent conversation as though it had just happened.

***************

“I should see to my duties directly,” Gwen had said, immediately rustling to exit the bed upon hearing Arthur’s booming voice rattle down the hallway, clearly a response to the latest in an endless string of mistakes by his loyal yet tragically clumsy manservant.

Morgana hadn’t wanted to turn loose quite yet, so she tightened hold around Gwen’s waist, halting the undesired escape.

“They can wait,” she replied between leisurely kisses trailed up a shapely arm. “The laundry isn’t going anywhere, nor is the evening gown that needs mending. Stay with me a while longer.” She paused to nuzzle into Gwen’s shoulder. “Stay with me forever.”

Rather than struggle, Gwen melted the embrace. “You know that is all I wish for. I love you, Morgana. More than anything. But…”

“But what?”

“What if someone catches us?”

Morgana scoffed, having missed the long term nature of the question in addition to the concern pouring off of Gwen in waves she should not have missed. It was not her finest moment. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive, though. The idea had just seemed so preposterous at the time because she had thought Gwen was only speaking about the present.

“Who would be so bold as to enter my chambers without permission?” she had said. “Not even Uther at his most disrespectful would dare venture such a trespass. We are entirely safe here. No need to worry your pretty head.”

Gwen shifted in Morgana’s arms then so that they were face to face. “I do, though. Worry that is. And I have to ask: why aren’t you?”

“Why should I be? For that matter why should you be?” Morgana replied. And then she met Gwen’s eyes. Large, and impossibly dark, and unmistakably upset.

All of the sudden it was impossible for Morgana to ignore how frightened Gwen really was. In response, her stomach twisted almost painfully and her heart fell as the happy bubble she had been floating in abruptly burst.

What in all the world, she wondered in a moment of regrettable obliviousness, had Gwen afraid of them being caught? Her brow furrowed as deeply as it ever had as she mulled around potential causes.

Certainly they were going to have to be careful in the future to avoid exposure, she reckoned, but Gwen was as fully cognizant that there were more perilous secrets both were currently keeping. Morgana’s ability to pull the wool over Uther’s eyes was well established, and no one else besides the two of them had unfettered access to her chambers. Besides all that, Morgana knew every nook and cranny of the citadel and was able to slip out and into the upper town undetected at will, of which Gwen was also very well aware. So there had to be more to it. But what?

Only one other possibility occurred to her, and it was the one she least wanted to entertain. And yet...

“Unless you regret what has transpired between us?” she asked at length, unable to disguise her own fear, which manifested through a faint trembling in her voice. “No!” Shaking her head fervently, Gwen grasped Morgana’s face much as she did the night before. “Not even for a second. I’ve lost so much, and I have much to regret, but not this. This is the best thing to ever happen to me. I just…”

Again Gwen trailed off, her hands retreating to clasp together against her mouth. And although Morgana’s anxiety had quieted with Gwen’s reassurance, there was clearly something still bothering her.

“Just what?” Morgana prompted, then reached out to stroke Gwen’s hair. “I hate seeing you so twisted up. Tell me. Please.”

A single, contrite nibble of a kiss-stung lip later, Gwen averted her eyes and gave her answer, “Don’t you wonder, even just for a second in the back of your mind, if what we did was wrong?”

Morgana very nearly sighed in relief. This was a problem she could easily remedy, as it was a one she had wrestled with for years only for Merlin’s simple yet profound worldview to unexpectedly resolve.

During the incident where Gwen was accused of using sorcery to heal her father, he had stumbled upon Morgana beside herself after a visit to Gwen’s cell. In her anxiety and grief she had confessed to having feelings for her handmaiden that although unseemly nonetheless had taken hold of her. Where she had expected disgust, she was instead given only understanding and compassion. In that endearingly provincial way of his, Merlin ensured her that love – if true and pure and unselfish, which he insisted hers for Gwen surely was – could never be wrong.

Morgana had felt something turn loose inside her at Merlin’s easy acceptance, as if her heart had been tied into a knot being slowly and perpetually tightened. Breathing became a relief once again. And as she learned to accept herself the way Merlin did, she began to hope that perhaps one day in the future a door would open for her to act upon her feelings without destroying what she and Gwen already shared. She could not have anticipated Tom’s death being the impetus for her to do so. Yet as awful as his tragic death was, it birthed something so infinitely precious that Morgana would never cease being grateful. And if only for the memory of that kind, thoughtful, patient man, she would never stop fighting for the love she shared with her beloved Guinevere.

“Gwen,” she had said, unsuccessfully vying for her conflicted love’s attention. Twice more she called Gwen’s name, and after receiving no response pushed up slightly on her elbow. “Look at me, Guinevere.” When large, uncertain eyes, brimming with tears, met hers, she leaned over so that she could press her forehead against Gwen’s. “We have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? If you trust me, if you love me as you assert to, believe me when I say this. Something so wonderful and beautiful and perfect could never be anything less than rightly divine.”

***************

That phrase that swiftly became Morgana’s favorite answer to Gwen’s occasional concerns. The world at large, and most definitely those housed within the vaunted halls of Camelot’s citadel, would most certainly view their relationship as wicked and immoral and perverse. If that was indeed the case, Morgana did not believe she ever wanted to be either innocent or righteous. Their love was wonderful, and beautiful, and perfectly divine; an immutable fact which Morgana was determined to never allow either of them to forget.

No doubt lurked within Gwen’s eyes this morning, however, only unadulterated affection. And that made Morgana exceedingly joyful indeed.

“I understand what you mean,” Morgana at last said after escaping that precious memory. She sighed contentedly and shuttered her eyelids as yet another reverent brush of fingers smoothed along the crest of her chin. And while the diligent attention felt incredible, she grew increasingly curious why Gwen’s focus appeared to have narrowly fixated on that one specific region of her face.

“What’s the matter?” Gwen said after a bit of easy silence.

“What makes you think something’s the matter?” Morgana replied, still basking in the glow of Gwen’s magical touch.

“You have that telltale crease between your brow which means something is bothering you.”

This time Morgana opened her eyes. “I’m not bothered, merely at a loss as to why you suddenly find my chin so hypnotizing.”

Gwen sucked at her lip momentarily as if weighing whether to answer before a crooked smile bloomed across her handsome features.

“Well, not just your chin, but if you must know it’s all these little hairs…” And then she stroked Morgana’s chin again, this time allowing her fingers to feather over said hairs all the way down her jawline.

“Are you saying my face is hairy, Gwen?” Morgana asked, frowning as a thread of hurt pulled taut.

As should be obvious, she didn’t appreciate it pointed out that her alabaster skin failed to conceal what otherwise would have been a nearly invisible coat of fine hairs that covered all humans male and female alike. Arthur teased her about it relentlessly when she was a blossoming teenager, and even now some of the noble ladies who envied her would snidely comment upon how it clearly indicated that she was a witch destined for a life of barren unhappiness.

Up til now, Gwen had made no mention of that peculiar feature and Morgana would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t wounded that it would be brought up only now that they were in an intimate situation.

“No!” Gwen’s eyes went wide as the full moon. “No, not at all! I mean...well, yes, it sort of is.” A huffed breath of remorse followed Morgana’s gasp of offense. “Not that it’s a bad thing! I swear I meant no insult. I have some too, after all. It’s just less visible because of my skin tone probably. And don’t worry! It’s nothing like Lady Johanna’s fledgling beard. Not even close. On the contrary, they’re so tiny and delicate and wispy and soft, and I really am utterly obsessed with them because they are part of you and you are perfect, so they are also perfect by extension, and I just can’t get over how adorable they are, and I am currently babbling like a lunatic with zero manners. I am so sorry, milady.”

At the end of that adorable ramble, Gwen’s shoulders hunched in as her cheeks darkened and she yet again sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Any insult Morgana felt evaporated as quickly as it formed. How could she be upset with such an enchanting creature?

Reaching across Gwen’s waist, she pulled her abashed lover down until they were flush, skin to skin from shoulders to hips.

“Oh, Gwen, there is nothing to be sorry for,” she said, legs instinctively parting as Gwen’s familiar weight settled against her. “My reaction is habit, I’m afraid, due to Arthur’s derisive mocking. It’s actually quite nice to hear a compliment for a change.”

“Are you sure you’re not cross with me? I’d understand if you were…”

No one with a functioning soul could be cross with those doe eyes staring at them, Morgana decided. She danced her fingers with lighthearted mirth across Gwen’s cheeks and over the ridge of her nose.

“Nonsense, sweetling. It’s no different than me admiring your freckles.”

Gwen’s features relaxed into a flattered smile. “You like my freckles?”

“Like them? I love them! How could I not? It’s like you said, they are a part of you, and you are perfect, therefore they are perfect by extension.”

In response, Gwen gave her an appreciative little smile before arresting her hand to place a kiss upon the inside of her wrist.

“So you won’t mind to be awakened like that again should I fail to curb my weird fascination?”

“Only if you won’t should I wake you by mapping the stars written across your cheeks,” Morgana said, then returned Gwen’s tactile affection with some of her own by again acting out her words with her own fingers. She was pleased when Gwen leaned in to the touch.

“I promise I won’t. I think I’d quite fancy that, actually.”

“Then I promise, too. And if you’re a good girl today, perhaps I will indulge your fancy tomorrow morning.”

“Well, then, I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?”

Eyes flashing with eager anticipation, Gwen threw the covers aside and made to get out of bed – a development Morgana was not prepared to authorize. Not only was she of a mind to lounge abed and cuddle away another hour or two, all of Camelot was blanketed in snow and she was loathe to be deprived of Gwen’s heavenly body...heat.

“Now, now,” Morgana tugged at Gwen, almost desperate with a need to curl right back into Gwen’s warmth and never move again while hoping she sounded at least somewhat the dignified noblewoman she was supposed to be. “Don’t be so hasty. Have you forgotten yourself and your duties to your lady? I haven’t yet had my good morning kiss.”

Gwen tumbled back into bed giggling merrily. “For shame! I have failed my lady most unforgivably. I shall rectify the trespass immediately.”

“See that you do, Guinevere, and promptly,” Morgana said, her eyes twinkling as her own merriment curved her lips into a smile. “As you know, your lady does not appreciate being made to wait.”

After a deliberately silly half-curtsy, Gwen draped herself across Morgana’s body, and once settled whispered her reply against Morgana’s already tingling lips.

“My lady’s wish is my command.”

The brief peck that followed was not enough for Morgana. Fingers winding into dark curls, she pulled Gwen into a much more passionate kiss, which lead to another, and another, until the embrace quickly evolved into tangling tongues and undulating hips. Soon enough, Gwen’s head was disappearing beneath the sheets and Morgana was having to recall how to breathe due to the magnificently excruciating pleasure coursing through her loins.

And that was how she came to be late for her first appointment of the morning, where she was relentlessly lectured about the importance of punctuality over manchet, eggs, sausage, and apples sprinkled with cinnamon. It was worth it, though. Her giddy grin throughout breakfast only made Arthur more bewildered and Uther more angry.