#look upon my works and despair etc

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[gender-trash]

god i really HAVE been posting all of my most pedestrian personal bullshit on this stupid website for aeons

what's really incomprehensible to me is how many of you there are now. i think i have twice as many followers now as i did when i graduated college and definitely WAY more than i had in freshman year and yet i'm still posting like "ahh yes... we all remember those days........"

[simmonsized]

40! any poetry speaking to you rn?

You know, I was just thinking, "man I hope no one asks me about poetry" lol I don't read a lot of poetry it's very sad I should fix that

Today I have actually been thinking a lot about the poem Ozymandias by mary shelley's husband, mr percy shelley, and it's sister poem, by horace smith. it is too embarrassing to say why, but it is interesting that there are more than 20 fanfics with the title "Nothing Beside Remains". I always remember the poem because the name is used in the book The Lake House which I loved as a teenager haha

BUT more embarrassing, and actually completely unironically, I have had the poem from Bojack Horseman, The View From Halfway Down (written by alison tafel) rattling around in my head for the past two weeks. it is genuinely good, and i love that the poem moves from third to second to first person as it progresses to the end.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Guileless

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, dejection, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The reader attempts to move past her ruination, but is reminded of her tarnish conscience at every turn. (Regency AU, tall!reader)

Masterlist

Character: Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson

Note: thanks to those who waited on this one!.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love coffee and that’s a lot and probably unhealthy. Take care. 💖

It should be the happiest time in your life. You should be elated, and yet, as ever it is, every victory precedes a treacherous defeat. A proposal one day, and despair the next. That nipping of doom in your gut, that ever present doubt, is made certain by the passage of time. It has been much too long. 

You sit in the pews, throat tight as you keep your chin locked. You breathe slowly, as if too sudden an intake might unleash the tempest brewing inside of you. It is more than nerves, you know it, that sicken you so. You should be happy for your pending nuptials but you are only horrified at the thought. 

The bishop reads out the banns before the rows; the first for yourself, the third for your sister. She will be permitted to wed and your mother has presided over much of planning already. You dip your head as your name rings out beside Lord Odinson’s and you swallow back a swell of bile. You’ve been gulping down your own stomach for much of the morning, ever since you caught a whiff of pickled shallots in passing the kitchens. 

You push your head up and your hand down to your lap, knowing you will be observed. You must at least look certain of your fate. You must sit proud for the engagement all would put into question. For the time until it shall all dissolve, you must play your part. 

You can barely keep from wilting where you are. A prudent woman might bite her tongue. She may commit to the theatre of it all. She might lie and get away with the folly. You glance over at Lord Odinson, just across the aisle, and you know you cannot. It isn’t one lie, it’s a lifetimes’ worth of betrayal. 

Yet how should you tell it? It isn’t only him who must know. Your father would need good reason why you’d rather the convent to a proper marriage. You will be ruined but you could not put that stain upon the only person who was ever kind to you. Lord Odinson deserves an honest wife and a child of his own. 

Your insides sour and you nearly spasm as you fight the tide of nausea, brought upon by more than your forsaken condition. Your eyes trail away from your betrothed to another man bound in promise. Lord Rogers sits with your sister, as ever, and she leans on him shamelessly, even beneath the Lord’s rafters. 

She would deny it. She would laugh in your face should you ever reveal the absolute truth. No, you must confess the sin as your own and that alone. You will not name the culprit for they would they never believe you and he would never admit it himself. 

Yet, you know that the Duke Rogers will ever be triumphant in knowing that he has brought the monstrous giant to her knees. You are his Goliath, the vile retched creature he has slain in his valour. He will be hero and you be the villain. 

💟

You hand the letter to the carrier just before noon. You don’t expect an audience to be granted until the next morning at earliest. Lord Odinson is a busy man; an ambassador in much demand between the house and society. Even his betrothed must request his presence. 

The cart rattles through the gates and you watch it fade off into the grim horizon. The winter bites in the air, adding to the chill in your bones. That coldness that freeze over your heart. You must be strong now, as strong as the valkyrie he misnamed you as. 

When you go to Lord Odinson, you will bring the crown to him. You will hand it back and admit your tainted stature to him. You will show him how truly small you are.  

At least, that is what you intend. You may prove yourself weak as ever. However it should unfold, this engagement cannot persist. 

“A day! A day and I shall call you husband,” Cora’s shrill tone greets you as you come through the front doors. She is in the sitting room with Lord Rogers. Your mother continues to fawn over the last-minute details for their wedding. “Isn’t it very exciting, my lord?” 

“And I shall call you wife.” 

“And Duchess,” she preens with a trilling laugh, “oh, how elaborate I shall be.” 

“My Athena,” Rogers drones back, “my goddess, my beloved.” 

“Oh, how darling,” your mother preens over them, “it shall be resplendent. I’ve made certain the cake will be exactly as you like it, dearie. The cook has even procured some citrus for the lemonade.” 

The mention of lemonade makes you shrivel. You recall the sunny day when Lord Rogers spoke to you over a weeping beverage. As you fell for that virulent charm. And all that came after. 

You peer at the grim windows and frown. How everything does change so quickly. Happiness is fleeting and yet disappointment comes as a chronic plight. You will never know a day without shame. 

You flit off without notice. Your heart rents at the thought that you will not have the same fervour. You will not sit and plan your own wedding with Lord Odinson. All your fanciful dreams have evaporated. It is one thing to put a mask on, to pretend as virgin, but you could never foist a bastard upon the kind man who has shown you a taste happiness. You will be certain to thank him for all he’s done but you will not spit in his face. 

As you get to the bedroom doors, your stomach churns violently and you burst through, not stopping as you rush to the pot and fall to your knees. You wretch into it as your body contracts painfully. You empty your stomach until you are panting and hollow. 

“Sister,” Alina startles you as she rolls to the edge of the bed, a novel in hand, “is it a winter ague?” 

“I...” you shakily wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I believe so.” 

That lie alone singes your tongue like a brand. Your eyes well with tears and you flick them away with your lashes. You sit back on your heels and heave out a pungent breath. 

“Oh, how awful, and just before the wedding,” she sits up and shuts the novel. “Let us pray it passes quickly. You needn’t delay your own nuptials.” 

“Mm, no, that wouldn’t be...” you let the sentence tail off and you stand, taking the pot with you, “I’ll dump it before it can stink.” 

“If you are unwell, call for the maid.” 

“No, it is fine,” you insist, “I didn’t mean to disturb your reading.” 

“You didn’t,” she insists. “What’s the matter, sissie? You hardly seem a lady about to marry.” 

“I...” you croak, “it is the ague, that’s all.” 

“Mm, perhaps Lord Odinson might offer some comfort should it get any worse. He does seem the character,” she offers. 

“Or perhaps he is better to stay away. You as well, should it pass onto anyone else,” you hold the pot to your stomach and turn, carrying it out without another word. Albina huffs and falls back onto the bed, the flutter of pages following shortly after. 

You descend and keep along the wall, passing through the kitchens and beyond the servants’ quarters to the rear of the manse. You come out into the crisp air and overturn the pot well away from the house. A wave of dizziness washes over you, silver spots dotting your vision. Perhaps it is an ague. Oh how you wish it were. 

You set the pot down as you grasp at some stability. You stand and wipe your clammy forehead. Your hand drifts down to your bodice and you let it venture further. You try to feel your stomach through the layers. It is tauter than it once was but no rounder. Not as yet. 

You sit on a low stump, the seat the stabler uses to shoe the horses. You let the frigid air seep through your dress and stare at the grey clouds that blot out the sun. You hold your chin, elbows on your legs, hunched over as you let the stagnancy of that moment swallow you. 

For a moment, you believe that you can make time stand still. That you might stretch on this fantasy a little longer. That a single second might be spent into an eternity. You shake your head and close your eyes as your cheeks tingle with the cold. 

You try to picture the convent. You imagine dark halls and darker mornings. Prayers and repentance filling the days and keeping wakeless the nights. Would the nuns even accept a ruined soul like yours? 

“Miss,” Mary, the broom girl, stands along the path back to the house, “you have a caller.” 

You sit up and blink, a caller? How long have you been there? You shiver and rise, towering over the young servant like the mottled forest creature of wives tales. You nod and stride past her, rubbing your arms to warm yourself as you return to the house. 

It cannot be him. Not already. You’re not prepared. It has been all you can think of and yet you are wholly unready for it. 

You carry on inside and come into the main hall. Lord Odinson waits, your mother chittering at his elbow as Lord Rogers and Cora stand in the archway to the west wing. 

“You will be at the wedding tomorrow? We did not receive your response sir,” your mother pleads as she tugs his sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, did I not give it?” Odinson says coolly, “certainly I will come with some Asgardian ale to christen the blissful newlyweds.” 

“And we thank you for such generosity,” Cora coos. 

“I’m certain refreshments will be plenty,” Lord Rogers deflects. 

“Ah,” Lord Odinson’s attention is drawn by your emergence from behind the staircase, “my valkyrie, you called for me and I am here.” 

“I... you have come so... swiftly,” you remark, your voice teetering. 

“Of course,” he assures as he crosses the polished floor, “as ever I will for my beloved.” He approaches and takes your hands in his, kissing your knuckles, “you are like ice,” he feels your hands and covers them with his gloved ones, “are you ill?” 

“No, uh, yes, no,” you stammer, “sir, I only meant... I only thought to speak with you.” 

“I do cherish the tenor of your sweet voice, lady, I would ride so fast as I might to hear it,” he assures. 

“You rode... all this way, my lord?” 

“I do prefer to be in a saddle,” he affirms, “so, shall we converse? Perhaps we might have some tea to warm you, my valkyrie.” 

“Please,” you cringe, wishing he would quit his honeyed words, “I do not require it. Perhaps somewhere private...” 

“With chaperone of course,” your mother insists. You blanch but do your best not to show your unease. “Pollo! Pollo!” She claps, “forgive me I will not be able to do so myself as I have much to attend to for the morrow, but we have a groom here... Pollo!” 

She cries out and the dark-haired man appears. The old groom has a round belly and wine-reddened cheeks. He doesn’t speak more than Italian but he is steadfast in his service. Your mother bids him, pointing at you, then shoos him with a flick of her fingers. 

He shrugs and bows his head, nearing you and the duke. You peer over at your sister and Lord Rogers as they watch. The former stares at your betrothed as he clings still to your hands and the latter narrows his eyes in your direction. Just the sight of him makes you even more sick than before. Of any, he cannot know though you expect should Cora find out, it will not be a secret. 

“The sun room, perhaps,” Odinson suggests. 

“As you wish,” you agree. 

He offers his arms and you accept it. He guides you along, well-acquainted to the halls already, and takes you around to the sun room. The curtains are closed and the space is dim with the shadow of winter. The groom claims the armchair in the corner, making it groan with his weight, as another servant follows to light a lamp and put flint to the fireplace. 

When all is lit, you detach from Odinson and retreat from him. You mash your hands together and sway, spinning back to face him as he watches you intently. He seems unbothered by the spontaneity of it all. 

“You missed me? I have longed to see you again,” he beams. 

“Please,” you show your palms, “please, I... we must speak.” 

“Of? Name anything and it shall be yours. As my wife, you will never want for anything, valkyrie.” 

You wince as if struck. You drop your arms and your head. You stalk over to the bench that looks toward the window and sit, slumped forward as you shake your head. He approaches as he lets out a long exhale. He sits beside you. 

“Something is amiss. Forgive me for making light, I came upon mistaken sentiment,” his voice is grave, “you have something to say and I must listen. As ever, I am the storm but these winds have calmed.” 

You rock and another hot tinge settles behind your eyes. You roll them up and sit straight. You crane to see over your shoulder. Rollo’s eyes are closed as he’s halfway to sleeping. It is propriety alone that has him sat in that chair. 

You look ahead once more, “I cannot marry you.” 

He sucks in air and snorts, “what?” 

“I cannot—it cannot—I'm sorry, Lord Odinson.” 

“Why ever should you change your mind? The banns are read and will be again,” he touches your arm and you shy away. 

“You deserve... better.” 

“I deserve you,” he insists. 

“Please, sir, let me find the words,” you beg touch your temples as you try to rein in your wits. You close your eyes and shudder. 

“You are cold still, perhaps you might move closer to the fire--” 

“It hardly matters,” you lower your hands and clutch them tight.  

You make yourself look at him. You must. He warrants at least the truth told to his face and not the floor. His blue eyes twinkle as his usually bright face is stern. 

“I am...” you take a breath and struggle to let it back out as the words burn the tip of your tongue, “I... am with... child.” 

You choke out the last word and nearly faint. You stare at him, waiting for him to explode. You mightn’t even have a say in who knows should he speak too loudly. His eyes search yours and he blinks. He turns his face down and looks at his lap, gripping his thighs as he nods and hums. 

“That’s wonderful,” he says. 

“Pardon?” 

“Yes, it’s wonderful. We’ll have a child.” 

“Sir, I—we haven’t... it is another man’s,” you feel as if you shouldn’t have to explain this. 

“Why certainly he put it there, yes, but I would claim it,” he faces you again. 

Your eyes round, “why should you do that? That isn’t... proper. I am not proper, sir. I am telling you that I have been... corrupted. I should never have said yes.” 

“But you did.” 

“You needn’t-- it isn’t fair.” 

“Perhaps it isn’t fair that you should have to carry the cad’s seed,” he agrees, “for any many who would lay with a lady and not seek her hand, well, he can be nothing else.” 

You’re quiet as disbelief clouds around you. He can’t possibly mean it. He must be in shock. Certainly, he wouldn’t just accept another’s child. 

“Sir, you shouldn’t-- you shouldn’t do this. I am releasing you.” 

“I don’t want to be released,” he says sullenly. 

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask. 

“I meant all I said to you, from the first breath, my valkyrie,” he proclaims. “And I mean it still.” 

“But, sir, you cannot—I cannot live with myself--” 

“You are honourable. Honest. You have told me this when you did not need to. When you could’ve claimed an early birth, when you could have kept quiet, yet you did not. That says more than a fleeting tryst. For that’s what it was, yes? Or do you lay with this man still?” 

You shake your head and look down at your fingers as you twists them until they hurt, “just once. Only once. It was... unplanned. It wasn’t...” your voice cracks. 

His chest inflates with a sonorous breath, “did you want it?” 

“Pardon?” You murmur. 

“Unplanned... did you... was it... your tryst, was it willing?” 

You put your fist to your mouth and sob. You can’t say it. You won’t. You replay it in your head every night and you think of how you told him to stop and yet you did not stop him. You should have fought more. You should have screamed. 

“I didn’t make him stop,” you eke around your hand. 

“Make him? Did you ask him to begin?” 

“Please, sir, I cannot—please just end this and I will ask my father for the convent once more. I cannot bring this shame on you.” 

“Shame? Shame is the man, if I should call him that, who has done this,” he snarls and reaches for you, taking your hand. “I swore you would be my wife and I will hold to that. As you swore to be my wife. We will see the altar together. As one.” 

“You do not have to--” 

“I want to,” he growls and you look up at his angry face. You’ve never seen such fury in him. “I have never done anything but by my own whim and will not change that now.” 

“You are too nice, sir. Too nice, I cannot ask it--” 

“Who?” He sneers. 

“Sir?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

“I cannot--” 

“I should know.” 

“No, please, I wouldn’t-- it would be my ruin--” 

“No, it would be his and you protect him still, so tell me.” 

“No, no I will not. That I cannot tell you, sir. To say it would defeat me completely.” 

He sighs into a snarls and lowers his chin. He sounds like a simmering bull, readying for the charge. You tug on your hand but he will not release you. You relent and let him cling to you. 

Silence, suffocating and still.  

“My brother was an orphan. We took him in when he was young. He is a duke, same as me, now,” he declares as he squares his posture. “You wouldn’t know the difference. And I won’t. Not between this child and our next.” 

“Sir, surely--” 

“We are to have a child,” he says, “that is happy news and I thank you for bringing me here to hear it.” He pets your hand and leans his arm against yours. He brings your fingers up to your mouth and kisses them, “one day, I will know who the culprit is and on that, I will surely split his skull. Not for his bastard, for that child has no sin, but for your honour, lady. For my wife’s honour.” 

💟

Cora’s wedding to Lord Rogers culminates in a grand luncheon. The bride is a beautiful mist of tears as she accepts the well wishes of her guests. She basks in the attention as you gladly languish in the shadows. 

Despite Lord Odinson’s unexpected and reassuring reaction, you’re still uncertain. You don’t know if he’s keeping a good face on until he knows how to act, perhaps renegs his grace, or if you might come to pay for your discretion later in your union. You’re prepared to meet your atonement, however it comes. 

As you sit for the meal, the chair beside you is claimed almost at once. Your betrothed has appeared throughout the event but you’ve hardly been at his side. Each time you see him, his eyes skim the crowd as if he can see right through every one of them. Yet, when he looks at you, you feel only warmth. You don’t understand how he can look at you as such. 

“How do you fare, today, my valkyrie?” He asks as he straightens his cravat, “you look well.” 

“Good, I think.” 

“Glad to hear it,” he raises his glass for a servant to fill it with sherry. You opt for lemon water, as much as your tumultuous stomach can handle. 

“I thought we might have our own reception at Nine Pillars,” he suggests. 

“I would like that,” you agree, your eyes drifting beyond him, to your father’s gardens, where... “whatever you may offer, I will be grateful for.” 

“Mighty valkyrie, full of grace,” he praises and reaches for a platter, “ooh, they have some sweet ham here with pineapple.” 

He takes a helping and puts it on your plate. You smell the tangy fruit and the underline savoury waft of the meat. You lurch and grasp the edge of the table. You give a panicked look to Odinson as he peers down at the food. He switches your plates out swiftly. 

“Tell me, what are you in the mind for then?” He leans in so his arm touches yours as you sip from the lemon water to quell your stomach. “Valkyrie, give me your command and I will obey.” 

You give him a coy grin, “you can be so silly.” 

“Silly. Mad. All for love,” he assures you.  

“Is their anything dry?” You ask, “bread, perhaps.” 

“Sourdough,” he reaches to take the basket as others help themselves to the spread. 

“I’ll have some of that.” 

“With marmalade?” He offers.  

“No,” your face pinches at the thought, “no, bread will do.” 

You blink and shake of another tide of sickness. As you do, your eyes meet another pair further down the table, amid the rabble of voices. Lord Rogers tilts his head as Cora tugs on his sleeve and giggles up at the couple behind them. He hardly seems to notice as he stares you down. 

You go rigid and quickly look away. You touch Odinson’s arm to keep from panicking. He looks at you, then down the table. He doesn’t say anything, merely carves off a chunk of bread for you. 

You pick away at the hard crust and the dry spongey inside. You take small bites, cautious of upsetting your volatile stomach. The afternoon wears on, course after course, and you avoid those dishes which threaten to overthrow your restraint. 

At last, the cake is serves, a tiered sponge with cream and fruit and candied sugar spun in a facsimile fountain atop it. It’s splended and beautiful. The couple are served first as they smiles in delight. The doling out of servings takes some time as guests wait patiently for their turn and the cake is pushed on a cart from chair to chair. 

When it comes your turn, your name rises over the crowd. You sit up and glance over, relieved at least not to watch the layers of custard and cake hit your plate. Lord Rogers has his hand on the back of his wife’s chair. 

“And how do you like the dessert? I believe you’ve been saving space for it all day, eh?” He chirps. 

You angle your head in confusion. You look down then at Odinson who sits a little taller as he leans forward. 

“You’ve hardly indulged, so I hope you might show your support and delight in this delectable dessert,” Rogers taunts. “A wedding is no place for a sour face.” 

Your lips part. You’re stunned. How could he be so bold as to call you out? Among all his guests and he must torment you. Was one night not enough. Your whole life as his violation thrives within your womb. Lord Odinson subtly touches your elbows. 

“I am most happy for you and my sister,” you rebuff, “and you are correct, I’ve been in much anticipation for dessert.” 

You take your fork and scoop up a heaping mouthful. You smile at it even as your insides rage. You make yourself taste it. It’s so sweet and smooth and wonderful, but your stomach mulches as if it is rubbish. Your cheeks tremble and you swallow, nearly gagging. 

“To you, sir, and my sister, Cora, I wish a happy marriage,” you force out as you hide your mouth behind a handkerchief. 

“To the happy couple,” Lord Odinson raises his glass and the table erupts, at once, the attention shifted back to them. 

You brace his arm and squeeze. You fight but you cannot withhold the uproar within. You stand and rush away, frantically searching for somewhere to hide and spew your guts. 

💟

The days overcome your doubts. The weeks come with more affectations; your sickness ebbs and flows and the temperature feels at times hotter then colder, swaying back forth, while some moments you spend with a throbbing head and pulsing feet. The most obvious symptom of your condition is the tightness of your stay. Soon, you will be showing more than you like, but for now, loosened laces can ease your discomfort. 

Your wedding day fast approaches. Time does seem to defy any human whim. You wish it would slow so you could catch your breath. Much like your husband-to-be who has yet to falter in his affections. 

You sit before the mirror with the grown of silver petals in your lap. There is one still bent from Cora’s envy but you will keep it to the back of your head. You will wear it as proudly as that night Lord Odinson gifted it to you. You hope for the day you might both forget all else. 

If it is to be. If he is at the altar waiting still. 

Albina and Hannah take the crown from you and secure it among your styled locks. Albina smiles at your reflection as Hannah jabs you with a pin. You nervously wring your hands as you admire the lavender shade of your gown. You wish you’d had more of it, that you hadn’t needed to trim it in ivory to make up for your height. Still, it is beautiful and the nicest dress you’ve ever worn. 

“Are you nervous?” Albina asks. 

“Suppose,” you admit and lift your chin, “very, truly.” Though not for the reason she might think. 

“Lord Odinson is kind. He should be gentle,” Hannah says. 

Your cheeks tinge at her suggestion, “sister.” 

“Well, it is what we are all thinking, isn’t it?” She shrugs. 

“I hope I do not find a husband so soon,” Albina adds, “I would like to enjoy my books a little longer.” 

“You might take on the spinster’s mantel then,” Hannah snipes. 

“It shouldn’t be so bad,” you murmur. “Every woman must do it. Eventually. It cannot be so horrible.” 

You lower your head again, trying to hide the emotion battling in your chest. It was bad, that first time. Lord Rogers hadn’t been kind at all. Would Lord Odinson be any different? For Rogers seemed kind at first glance only to be cruel upon touch. 

What if you husband did not want to meet his duty? What if he could not knowing you had lain with another? You would not blame him and without consummation, he might still turn you away. 

“Cora said it was more painful than anything she’s ever felt,” Hannah undercuts your dread. “Though she still loves her husband well.” 

“You shouldn’t speak of that,” you gird. 

“Why not? Won’t you tell us how it is so we may be ready?” She challenges. 

“I... I... It’s rather strange to speak of it.” 

“You are strange,” Hannah retorts with a huff. 

“But pretty,” Albina chimes, “look at you, sissie. You truly look like a queen in that crown.” 

You meet the gaze of your reflection. You do look better than you ever have before. You wonder if they notice the new fullness in your cheeks. If they do, they don’t mention it. You take a deep breath. 

“I shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer,” you stand.  

If you wait any longer, you might lose your nerve. 

The bishop waits in the grand hall of Nine Pillars as you emerge from the rooms allotted for your preparations. The crowd stands among the columns and hushes as you appear at the end of the hall. You face the clergy man and for an instant, your heart dangles precariously, ready to plummet.  

Where is Lord Odinson? 

His golden head pops up beside the bishop and he fixes the flower tucked into his lapel. His long blond hair is draw back as a scarlet bow holds it back, its ears peeking out behind his nape. He is smiling as he pauses and his eyes meet yours across the space. 

You can see even from there how his features slacken and for a moment, you are breathless. He looks as stricken. You put one foot down and let your long legs carry you. 

All your doubts float away. The faces around you haze together and the world crumbles to dust. It's only you and that man.  

💟

The ceremony gives way to a soiree, bodies clustered together, partners dancing, and you among them. Your husband, a husband, has your hand in his as he leads you in the steps. This man, this wonderful forgiving man you vowed yourself too nearly sweeps you off your feet, a sensation you've never known before. 

Your cheer blooms from you as his cheeks flush in his excess. He barely pauses to receive kind words from his guest. His elation is contagious. It gives no way to your fears. 

"Do you know what I thought upon the altar, beautiful valkyrie," he purrs, "I nearly fell upon my knees even." 

"What?" You smile, glowing up at him. 

"That the gods did bless me. That you must be sent from them, a gift to me, mere mortal." 

You can't help but pat his chest, "you flatter." 

"You are too modest," he guides you along, "you are a statue come too life, art in the flesh." 

"My husband... you words are too sweet." 

"I know, I know, the wedding night is still ahead of us, I do run too fast," he chuckles, "but how can I help the anticipation? 

Your lashes flick and giggle, "husband." 

"That word has never sounded sweeter," he grins, "but a sweeter noise might be my own name. Say it for me, valkyrie." 

Your cheeks burn hot, "Thor?" 

"Delicious," he growls nearly baring his teeth, "and I shall savour every sound you make. Every moan and mewl. Every breath and laugh. Just as every part of you." 

It's too good to be true. You deign to let yourself feel it all but you must. If even only for tonight. If only for the next moment. You will have a morsel of happiness if it's all you have to chew on for the rest of your life. 

💟

The night wears on and so do you. Your feet ache, as does most of you, and your voice is raw from laughing and talking. It is the first that you ever spent an event not along the wall or hiding in some shadow. It is a night all your own, or so your husband has made it feel. 

Yet, he does not tire. Not as quickly. As he booms and bawls to the amusement of all, you cling to his arm and repress a yawn. You will not spoil his fun, you will persist. 

Still, you cannot ignore all urges of your humanity. You press a hand to his sleeve and excuse yourself, promising to return. Your husband pauses to bid you not be long and you're further abashed at his attention. 

You flit off to find the privy. You've been several times over the day. Your bladder swells no matter how little you drink. As you progress, you find your body is contradictory to your mind. 

You venture down the corridor and sweep into the room. Once relieved, you emerge feeling lighter but no less tired. The silent desolation of the corridor rather makes your exhaustion all the more potent. 

You turn towards the statue of a warrior, you recognise it, it is the means by which you've found your way. Before you can pass it, a figure appears from behind it and you falter in your slippers. 

You gasp and ball your hands, the man before you sending a ripple of horror through you as he smirks at your surprise. Lord Rogers' cheek dimples as he quorks his head like a cynical crow. 

"You are ever a creature of urges," he muses, "fluttering back and forth as a skittish bird." 

"My lord, I... what is the meaning--" 

"I'm afraid we've not had much of a chance to speak, have we? The blushing bride is much a titter," he chortles, "she has the gull to giggle like a maiden, even." 

"Lord Rogers," you utter, appalled. 

"But the sway of her hips do betray her true nature. That which is within her," he sneers, "as does the curdling of her face over any dish that tickles her nose." 

"Sir, I know not what you mean--" 

"I should laugh truly, to know that another will raise my bastard," he taunts, "that it is him, does entertain me more." He takes a step forward and you back, "so you will be certain to lay with him this night so he may believe he has vigour." He grabs your arms before you can elude him, "you will think of me, won't you, Athena, my fallen goddess? Of how I desecrated your--" 

Suddenly, you are staggered. Lord Rogers is swung backward and flung into the statue. There's a roar, tha same noise you would expect of a charging bear, and the flash of scarlet. You watch paralysed as Thor grabs Lord Rogers by his jacket and spins him, throwing him into the other wall. 

The smaller of the men, though they are both built well, slides to one knee, his hand on the plaster. The other is quick, wasting not a second before aims a foot into Rogers' stomach. The duke falls backward and is at once straddled beneath the larger. 

Thor lays blows upon the other man, hailing down on him like the tempest he claims himself. Your fear overflows and you push through the thick waves. You come forward numbly and pull your husband by the back of his collar.  

"Please sir, unhand him." 

"You would defend this animal!" He wails down another fist and growls. 

"No, no, I would not spare him but I would... I would have my husband not take me to my wedding night with bloodied knuckles. Thor," you pet the back of his head, "let this be a happy day. Please." 

He sits back on his heels and puffs out. He looks back at you as you step away. You put your hand to your middle.  

"Husband?" 

He snarls and spits on Lord Rogers, standing with a huff. You reach for his hand and he takes it. He squeezes as he sends one last kick of his toe to the man on the floor. 

"Let me save my strength for you, wife. I certainly would need it." 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

after your post about malleus i finally said to myself “yeah i can’t force myself to pretend like i like any of the dormheads”. not like i hate them, but after their blots were over i felt like nothing in particular has ever changed about them. the only person who made me think yeah he’s a changed guy is vil. i was really surprised when in chapter 6(if it wasn’t the end of 5th? can’t remember) he apologised to the boys, his acceptance of his own mistakes and awful doings made him skyrocket in my mental tier list

[Referencing this post!]

Mmmm, I'm in a similar boat when it comes to the dorm leaders but for my own reasons; I like the vice dorm leaders a lot better simply because I tend to enjoy characters who play "supportive" roles (butler, bodyguard, knight, older sibling, etc.).

I don't know if I agree with the idea that the dorm leaders (well, + Jamil instead of Kalim) didn't change after their OBs. I believe that we miss out on seeing a lot of their development because it happens off-screen and we the players don't spend every waking moment checking up on the OB boys--but they definitely do change. More specifically, right after their OBs and sometimes upon their returns in the subsequent books. Just because we do not personally witness every step of their development doesn't mean it didn't happen.

Let's look at one example with the first dorm leader. After his defeat, Riddle cries and confesses he doesn't care about the silly rules, he just wants to enjoy his time with everyone. During the unbirthday party that follows his OB, Riddle sees some roses that are not entirely red and his peers expect him to lose his temper again. Instead, he laughs and says he can overlook it, then invites everyone to help him paint them properly. Riddle expresses similar restraint with his anger in book 2; he adopts a policy of strictly chastising and then trying to fix the problem instead of immediately collaring rule transgressors. (The exceptions being with, of course, the wrongdoers of book 2, like Leona.) Then, in book 6, we see Riddle struggling with his character change, as he is shown to still heavily rely on absolute rules and laws to govern his actions, and relies on himself to be the judge of them while shunting out others. It's only when he butts heads with Azul that he's able to be a little more flexible and recognize his peers' strengths. This makes sense, because the time period between book 1 and book 6 is only about 6 months; a complete shift in one's character and worldview won't happen that quickly, nor completely. Riddle must have been working on himself a lot and consciously trying to repress his anger--and he's imperfect at it. This is fine!! Character growth can be messy, slow, and non-linear--and this is true of how the dorm leaders change over time.

As for Vil (since he was specifically cited in your ask!), I'm of the opinion that his early book 6 apology was not the result of a character change. Vil was already very mature and self-aware prior to OBing; I think he would have still apologized if he thought something going wrong was genuinely his fault, as he holds himself to high standards and would acknowledge when he has fallen short of them (even in regards to morals). This is implied in his behavior before he overblotted too; in book 5, Vil repeatedly claims he will defeat Neige using his own power, fair and square. When he falls into despair and resorts to dirty methods to take his rival out, VIl is appalled by the "ugliness" of his actions and begs his classmates to "not look at [him]" because "[he's] so ugly" (referring to his ugly character/morals). This means he was aware of the cruelty of his actions and how they poorly reflect on him (ie he would have felt guilty and apologized afterwards about it anyway). Vil typically comes off as harsh, but he's truly noble when it comes to accepting when he has fucked up. I feel the real change in Vil is something that Rook highlights: the importance of loving oneself, regardless of what others may think of you. This development is made more apparent in book 6, which is the follow-up book to Vil's and allows him a time to shine. Whereas in book 5 Vil was obsessed with being a "hero" and public opinion, book 6 Vil declares to Idia "there are no heroes or villains" and that he is still "fairest of them all" (echoing a line Rook says in book 5), even as a withered old man.

I don’t want to ramble on for too long!! If you’re interested in reading about how the dorm leaders (+ Jamil) are grappling with their character arcs following their books, I’d recommend this post. It only goes up to Vil since the analysis is very book 6 heavy. I’d recommend this one for Idia, but be warned it does not take into account book 7 events since it was not out at the time of writing.

[theamityelf]

What's your take on polytagonist/naehinahara? I just feel like they'd be really cute 'cause they're unconfident boys who would definitely support and be there for each other <3

Also just the thought of them tag teaming in each class trial is really appealing to me............ but how would that even work? maybe in an au where Monokuma gathers all the past killing game survivors for one last killing game? but ough that's just so tragic............ but at the same time can you imagine them taking turns in pairing up together?? investigating together?? 🥹

First of all, of course I love them as a ship! I already like Hinaegi and Naehara separately, and Hinahara would also be a fun combination, with Hajime's steady abrasiveness and Shuichi's more precise, infrequent abrasiveness in-between bouts of malleability.

As for that specific scenario:

Oh my gosh, first of all, I'm going to say for this AU that despite the 77th class all having been brought back after SDR2, only the survivors of that game are in this new killing game. For V3 I'm going to say that was also a simulation, specifically so Kaito and Kokichi can get pulled in on some technicality about their case being inconclusive.

Now, you may look at this as me very specifically targeting the trauma of the THH cast, since they're the only ones whose entire friend group is in the killing game.

Anyway, I'm also going to say everyone's memory is erased except the protags, because whoever set this up is doing it as a specific torture of them. This means we have pre-character development Maki, Fuyuhiko, Byakuya, etc. in play, and if the protagonists try to impress upon them that they're already friends, they just get extremely suspicious and defensive.

Naturally, this means the protagonists all huddle up together right away.

"Alright, who's doing this one?" Makoto wonders.

"I don't know," Hajime says.

"You don't know?" Shuichi repeats in dismay. "You're from the Future Foundation and you're from Ultimate Despair. I thought one of you would have some idea."

"Whoever it is, we're not in a simulation right now," Hajime says.

"You're sure?" Makoto says.

"Positive."

"That's...worse, but...we know our friends. Whoever let us keep our memories did it to hurt us, but we know our friends."

(Hajime levels a sympathetic look on Makoto.)

"Knowing someone doesn't help you stop them from killing, if they feel they have a reason," Shuichi says quietly, thinking of Maki. "And the mastermind is in charge of giving people reasons."

"I probably could have re-befriended my friends the slow way, if I'd caught on faster that they didn't remember me," Makoto sighs. "Now, I weirded them out, and it'll be a lot harder."

"That's okay. You can actually branch out," Hajime suggests. "You should talk to Fuyuhiko and...Yumeno. Those are good matches for you. Once you've gotten to know them, I think Hagakure is also still an option; he's more interested in your seemingly supernatural insights than anything, though aligning yourself with him might not legitimize you in the eyes of Kirigiri, Togami, or Fukawa. I can reason with those three. Shuichi should spend time with Akane and Asahina."

"Then, what about Sonia, Kaito, Maki, Kazuichi, and Kokichi?" Makoto asks.

"Focus on your two for now, okay?"

It is a good idea, and they do mesh well with those groupings, but of course things don't go entirely to plan.

And of course, whenever something terrible happens, they retreat to each other's arms. They're all protective of each other, and they're all protective of their own friends, and the potential for hurt/comfort is matched only by the potential for messiness when some of them have to prioritize who they most want to protect.

Hajime's many talents are, of course, an asset, but if he knows multiple people are in danger at once and he can't save all of them, he's prioritizing his friends (which include Makoto and Shuichi) over their friends and might even have to do a trolley-problem-style switcheroo where Toko dies in Sonia's stead or something of the sort. He wasn't the one to kill her, but he decided who he was more willing to lose.

Shuichi would be willing to lie in the trials, and Kokichi would notice, and Kyoko would probably also notice. Hajime would back up Shuichi's lies when he knows he can get away with it and contradict them when he knows he can't. Makoto would not lie because he finds it really important that everyone is able to trust each other.

Kaito might punch Fuyuhiko in the face at some point. That would go really poorly. Or maybe he tries to punch Fuyuhiko in the face but Makoto's in the way and gets punched instead, solidifying Fuyuhiko's bond with Makoto because now he's got to teach this guy a lesson for effing with both of them! (Kaito is sorry, but like...not sorry enough?)

And Makoto (who passes out on impact, btw; his character development didn't involve not passing out when he gets punched in the face) is just like "No, you don't have to do anything to Kaito!" while Fuyuhiko is all "Sit down and let me handle this."

Makoto realizes, over the course of calming his friend down, that Hajime set both him and Shuichi up with people who could and would protect them from physical threats. He always thought of it as Hajime trusting him to keep Fuyuhiko out of trouble and trusting Shuichi to keep Akane out of trouble, but in a way, he's also trusting his friends to keep Makoto and Shuichi safe.

The day Maki dies or gets executed (I'm sorry, there's no way she sruvives this one.), Shuichi sleeps in Makoto's bed, crying into his chest. Hajime intuits where they both are and brings them food. He wants to curl up on Makoto's other side, but he has to keep watch over the school. There are too many people they can't afford to lose.

(A version of this same AU where it is a simulation is also on the table. In that case, Hajime wouldn't have any Kamukura Project stuff in his head and also motives like Despair Disease could happen.)

[magpiewithinternetaccess]

What is your favourite WIP you are creating of any kind for any fandom?

Hi!! (I got overexcited about your question so long answer incoming hope you don’t mind)

the supernatural brainrot runs deep so all my wips both art/writing are exclusively about that 😅

current notable favourites (aka ones I look at longingly in my doc but procrastinate working on) include:

The apocalypse fic I’ve got in progress on ao3 which is particularly close to my heart

A season 6 era christmas fic I’ll hopefully write in December

An endverse fic revolving around a DnD campaign

A Despair time loop fix it fic

A Cassie centric fic about her getting into hunting

A witch-Sam Stanford era thing that’s pure chaos

And too many more aus and character studies to even count!!

However my actual reigning favourite is top secret and by that I mean I’ve been too intimidated to start working on it because I love the idea too much and don’t want to psyche myself out by mentioning it anywhere 😭😂

it’s a post 15 fic and what I like most about it is that it’s a story that can ONLY be fanfiction if that makes sense - as in, the actual plot and idea can only happen if it’s Dean Winchester and co. having gone through 15 seasons of television and now this continuation of mine.

I write a lot of original fiction alongside my fan works and multiple times now I’ve been developing something for a fic that I realise can actually be a novel so I pivot and create new characters etc, but I love this particular idea because I can’t do that with this concept. It has to be Dean. It has to be Cas. It has to come after everything else they’ve gone through.

Fanfiction is something pretty new to me but I’ve fallen in love with writing it so quickly because it’s such a fun and interesting way to construct stories and ugh I just have such an undying appreciation for it!!

ok rant over now 🤐

Thank you so much for the question!! I love getting to connect with people over our creative ideas, that really is what fandom is for 💚💙

I’d LOVE to hear if there’s anything else you’re working on/brainstorming at the moment too!! (that goes out to anyone who happens to stumble upon this post as well)

[generalluxun]

Chloe Travels back in tie AU question, but what is her Akuma like?

I always feel Akuma re meant to reflect the person changed, with those who have notably strong but distinct drives, despairs or obsessions (Or just a lot of character growth) having more than one, while more stagnant people end to return to form so to speak.

Anyway, my mind, with a Chloe in this kind of head-sace would be Obsidia (She's dropped the Queen theme cos Audrey sucks too actually) Despite her new and well established standard of "Audrey sucks" the powers are annoyingly similar, but Chloe's are a vastly improved variant.

IE, her body is made of obsidian class, she is constantly cracking and reforming (A reflection of her disintegrating mental health She can swiftly alter the shape, form and density of the glass which is primarily used to make blades, claws and other cutting implements given Obsidians sharp nature.

So for example she could point her finger and then boom, its suddenly a super long blade piercing whatever is on the other side of a given room.

She can also turn herself into glass particles to fly and dodge, as well as grow her form by absorbing and converting the glass or even sand around her to increase her material mass or make herself giant, or otherwise shape shift, ETC.

This is also meant to reflect the fact Chloe is sharp, dangerous but frankly very fragile, IE, Obsidian is a supreme cutting implement but can shatter. Chloe's form is constantly shattering but she's reforming it just as fast, its sheer willpower and rage keeping her together at this point and that is all that keeps Obsidia from disintegrating.

Okay first off-this is a very cool akuma design! If you are writing you should definitely use it! I could see working it into a different fic, but it might be too much for this particular AU. The focus here is on emotional trauma not physical danger, and since it's a season 1 throwback I'd like to keep it less 'lethal' overall.

So perhaps... 'Miracle Queen' suits our usage with a face lift, minus the bee theme. It's less 'look at me' Queen and more 'I am better than you!' Queen. Her power is 'Queen's Battle'(with a nod back to the S2 name) which isolates her and one other person in their own little pocket-dual dimension. Since she thinks she can beat them H2H(like with Mayura) she's cutting them off from their friends, just like she is cut off and alone.

This also neatly explains why LB couldn't find her partner in time to intervene. And upon winning it finally sinks in that... She's not the hero right now, she's the badguy. Hence, breaking the akumatization and fleeing.

[sweatermuppet]

sorry if you've been asked this before but have you gone to college or are you interested? a lot of my fav writers went to pretty prestigious places and have masters or phds etc and i was the type of person who never thought i'd be able to go to school for writing (or anything really) but i'm gonna try this upcoming school year. would love any insight you have if any <3

my feelings on further education for writing are complicated, but to put it out there at the top: i did not go to college & do not consider it necessary to be published

i did not apply to college in high school, which was highly controversial according to teachers, who insisted i need to at least look. i had some poor grades (almost failed creative writing, almost failed sophomore english) & did not attend many after school programs. i skipped class, had a suspension on record for fighting, & i was deeply deeply clinically depressed. i was in therapy, on medication, & could not see that another few years of school would suit me, especially because i was trying to come out as trans in a small school & that exhausted & despaired me. i did not have savings, scholarship offers, & my parents had told me since childhood that any secondary education would be my responsibility

i would like to go to college now i think, or at least attend more workshops & small classes for poetry & fiction, but i still feel it is very unlikely. education costs are too high for me to consider it an agreeable sacrifice for those experiences & connections. if i had the chance to go somewhere for writing, it would have to be within a financial margin that seemingly does not exist for current college costs & i refuse to take out loans, especially when i would rather work a day job & further my transition

i think it is very possible to educate yourself. there are lots of online resources available that can provide you with lessons, prompts, readings, & "homework". one key element, that ive discussed with other published friends, is that doing it alone... means you are that: alone. there is a lot of value in being taught by someone or someones who can answer your questions & give you a uniquely human perspective. i have taught myself a lot privately, but it does come with a sometimes crushing distance that can feel downright alienating, if not discouraging. there is a thrill in discussing poetry in a group that cannot be replicated in solitude

on the other hand, i think experiences cannot be taught in a classroom. to write, you must live first. you have to have material & it is difficult to craft material when you are entirely occupied with study. heartbreak, loss, love, wonder, can all happen during college, & even college is its own experience, but i do think there is a lot of overlooked value in people who just do... people things without wondering if it'll make a good poem

when i went to a writing retreat last year, i was the only man to attend (or ever apply!) & the only person in the group to not have gone to, or actively be in, college. i was torn between thinking i was an outsider, because everyone around me was "better educated" & feeling like id accomplished something all on my own

so... at the end of the day, i think it is entirely personal whether someone goes to college for writing. i know people who have gone & loved it & others who did not find it useful. i think these depend upon yourself, the school, your style, what you're hoping to achieve, etc. i think most of all it's deeply important to learn with other people when you can, to talk to people about poetry, to go to readings & subscribe to journals & visit libraries & take notes. how that is done is up to you

[valiantstarlights]

Your showXcomic swap AU is so deliciously unhinged and sweetly dark

Now I have the saddest imagining that Comic Dream lost his Hob because he chose Death a few years after 1989, unable to live in a world where his Stranger "forgot" about him. The Stranger he loved for close to 600 years.

But I do hope that Comic Dream finds a Hob to love and cuddle and stockholm syndrome into loving him.

Thank you! 🥰 I worked hard on the sweetly dark part, in the hopes that it would make the fic less unhinged. 😊 *glances at Dream* I think I failed, but that's okay! 😂

(putting everything else under the cut because fic spoilers 👀 CW: comic spoilers, dark!Dream, depression, dubious consent)

In this AU's multiverse, what you're imagining is definitely possible. 😔 There are Hobs who chose to take Death's hand after Dream didn't show up in 1989, Hobs who did it during one of the World Wars out of overwhelming grief, heartbroken Hobs in 1889, etc.

In The Truth Can't Hurt You, It's Just Like the Dark, I imagined that Dream lost his Hob in 1689, and his realm has been deteriorating ever since. And the state of the Dreaming is so bad that, after Dream escapes from his fishbowl, there is absolutely nothing left in the Dreaming except for ruins.

"But where are all the dreams and nightmares who have escaped to the Waking World?" you may ask.

As this is a dark AU, I'm gonna say that Dream ate them. 👀

He escapes and devours the first dreams and nightmares he finds in the Waking World without conscious thought. Just full on starving man at a feast mode. Because while he is Endless, he has also been starving for centuries, and the fishbowl made him feral enough to not care about anything except getting sustenance.

His arcanas give him more of a fight, though they do so with reluctance. Dream looks so gaunt, and they remember being lovingly crafted by him once upon a time. Surely they could help him, just a little, without losing themselves in the process?

But no. This Dream is too empty, too hungry, and has lost too much to hear their cries of mercy, and their pleas of no more, my lord, please, I still want to live!

I think Dream intentionally finds Corinthian last, and I think he relished each and every bite of him.

Does Desire go through with their dream vortex plan, knowing that their brother is already a shell of his former, haughty self? Probably not.

And anyway, I don't think Dream would talk to his siblings after 1689 at all. But especially not to Death. Even during their family dinners, and even with Destruction trying to get him to talk, Delirium trying to cheer him up, and Death apologizing endlessly because it was Hob's choice--

He doesn't say anything, doesn't eat anything, and just stares at the tablecloth until it's time to leave.

Desire senses no desire from him. Despair feels all his despair, but even that is too much for her. She chokes when she tries to bait him, while Desire feels like their lungs are collapsing because it's hard to breathe around him. It only takes one or two family dinners for the twins to ignore him completely. They both sit as far away as they can from him. They do not want to even look at him. (They still plot to get him captured though, but in this universe, it's because they hope that he becomes so weak that he would be forced to end his being Morpheus and become a new Dream of the Endless.)

On the bright(?) side, yes, this Dream will absolutely find a show!Hob who would love him and all his red flags. 👀 I think the Hob he'll find is very compassionate, and would see the state of him and his realm, and immediately be like, 'This Dream needs me, unlike my Dream whose funeral I just went to. 🥺 I cannot possibly abandon him.'

This Dream needs an entire realm's worth of new dreams and nightmares? Hob can help with that! Just tell him how, and he'll get to work. 😊

Rejuvenated by Hob's presence, Dream recovers his ability to create new dreams and nightmares from dreamsand. But Hob looks so eager to help, and Dream can't possibly let him down and say he can make new dreams and nightmares on his own.

So he tells Hob that they absolutely have to fuck, and Hob has to get pregnant and give birth to all of Dream's children. Because that's how dreams and nightmares are made.

Hob is intimidated because he has never even thought about being pregnant before. But if it's with Dream... 🥺👉👈

And a Dream who has been so kind to him ever since he arrived, never leaving his side and telling him that he loves no one else but him? A Dream who literally ripped the fabric of reality apart for him?

"Of course I'll help," Hob says shyly. "It might be a frightening experience, but as long as you're with me, I'm not going to be afraid. 🥰"

(Cue Dream immediately teleporting them both to the comfiest spot in the currently work-in-progress Dreaming and fucking Hob until his seed takes, because why does Hob know exactly how to make Dream insane about him? 🔥 Is that a skill that all show!Hobs have or something?)

And then of course Hob discovers that he absolutely loves being pregnant, because Dream dotes on him even more. So even when Dream confesses that he lied about the process of making dreams and nightmares, Hob just laughs and kisses him, and tells him to abandon his old way of creating on the beach, because Hob definitely prefers this method.

Needless to say, Dream is absolutely head-over-heels in love with his new Hob. He makes his castle--and basically the entire Dreaming, to Hob's liking. Hob would like to have more bright courtyards filled with flowering trees and picnic spots? Done. Hob would like for all their children to be able to have their own homes (so he and Dream can fuck wherever they want in the castle without getting interrupted)? A stellar idea. Dream helps Lucienne 2.0 build her house that's full of books, Gilbert 2.0 with his botanical gardens, and even Corinthian 2.0 with his sarlacc pit.

As a result, the new Dreaming is a cheerier and brighter place. The new dreams and nightmares love their parents very much, and they do not find it strange that both Dream and Hob always smell like sex, with their moddy always happily pregnant, and their father always smug and possessive.

Dream learns to delegate most of his tasks to his many children, so he and Hob could work on making more dreams and nightmares to repopulate the entire Dreaming. It's Hob's idea that he delegates so they can fuck more, and Dream thinks that his lovely husband has all the best ideas and can do no wrong.

And in this universe, all the new dreams and nightmares agree. Having Hob in the new Dreaming is a blessing. Absolutely the best thing that has ever happened ever. And the entire realm will go to war with anyone who would try to take him away from them.

[hauntedwizardmoment]

HELLO, this is your open invitation to talk about any song choices or parallels on your jace-and-jaceclones playlist collection that you wish to elaborate upon, bc I've been listening to them all weekend and I'm absolutely obsessed. Incredible music selections and I'm possessed with emotions now; thank you for your work 🫡

OH MY GOD YES okay so i think i'll start with just like. the general comment that i used songs from a lot of the same artists on them because i wanted them to feel/sound similar but also have distinct vibes - i think a different mcr song appears on each one, there's jack off jill on three of them, etc.

buuuuuuut they also all have at least one pick that's wildly different that i kind of think as the standout/signature song. i wanted to represent that theyre all Of the same guy (jaceprime) but theyre different facets of him: devotion, hedonism, rage. also because i'm insane they do have an order to them and there's an arc within each one

ETA after i finished writing all of this: jesus fuck it got long i'm so sorry i'm insane

i'll go in the order that i finished them in:

for j2 (the acolyte), the vibe is probably the Most distinct from the other three, since his starts out so happy and optimistic; all the small things! baby you're a haunted house! look at these lyrics!!

theyre love songs!! ringtone, too, that's the one i think of as j2s signature song, since it's in a wildly different genre. ringtone is also where the playlist kind starts to get an inkling of despair and tragedy, too

spellbound + heaven, iowa + closer kind of make up a weird trilogy in my head of "j2's thoughts when he and porter are alone together" since it's like, feeling an inexorable pull towards him, feeling so so so weak for him, and of course: religious devotion mixed with intense horniness.

i feel the need to justify the "closer" pick for j2 and not j3, i did go back and forth on it but honestly it's like... j3 doesnt worship the same way j2 does. j2's the acolyte, not the whore. thats also why tourniquet, shame, and all again for you are on here.

lastly for j2: drowning lessons is the unofficial j2porter vegas wedding song to me. the imagery of it is so evocative. look at this.

for j3 (the whore), obviously the vibe is like, getting railed within an inch of your life. but i also wanted songs that conveyed a sense of desperation + misery and self hatred. because j3 has issues and problems.

give 'em hell kid + celebrity skin + ponyboy are like. the Fuck Me trio. j3 wants you to want him, he looks good, he knows he looks good, what are you gonna do about it? he's got a half-life of his own and he's gonna spend it with the hottest people he can.

straight to video, joyriding, and everybody's fool are what i was talking about re. desperation, misery, and self-hatred. he's never been fulfilled or felt like he has a purpose the same way j2 does. he doesnt like looking in the mirror longer than it takes to put on his makeup.

violent pornography + eat me alive are like, two sides of the same coin in my head. more Fuck Me vibes but like, this time with a definite sense of danger and obsession. obligatory choking mention. obligatory erotic cannibalism mention. these things are basically part of the starbreaker bible atp.

and for j3's signature song: living dead girl by rob zombie. he IS the living dead girl to me!! he's jace post-resurrection, trying to fill up the new void inside him with anything, be it pleasures of the flesh or just straight up flesh. he's back from the dead and he's gonna make it your problem. unlike j2's born sexy yesterday he's more like. resurrected sexy (and evil) last night.

for j4 (the devil): the main thing here was like. rebellion. going against the narrative that's trying to draw her in. she's gonna escape the cycle or die trying.

i think my favorite pulls for this were playing god, losing his touch, and going under, which in my mind made up like a trio of being fed the fuck up with someone and walking out for good. there are also a couple songs on here like dead throne and IAGTKTPOTUSOA (cant type out the song name now jic the fbi is watching) where i was like... j4 would listen to these while she's mad. she deserves to have her metal and harsh noise moment.

ofc j4 is still Of Jace so i had to include i hate everything about you, whore, and noise and kisses because unfortunately he's still attracted to porter. why is whore on here but adrenalize was on j3 (the whore)'s playlist? well. whore is WAY more of a Fuck You than adrenalize.

and j4's signature song is ofc ptolemaea. no matter how hard she fights back and how close she gets to escaping, she always ends up back at porter's side. it's inevitable.

aaaaaaaaand lastly for jace's playlist (the one): i think everyone's already noticed that half of this playlist is where the titles for my fics come from but i did want to say that explicitly.

jaceprime's playlist is very much about devotion even when it hurts. giving up parts of yourself to make someone else love you. being doomed. not being understood even by the person who knows you inside and out.

its also like. sleepless nights and waking up disoriented and unsure of who you are. feeling crushed and abandoned but too proud to do anything about it. brain stew, i slept with someone in fall out boy, and broken bones are very that.

i did include drowning lessons on this one again, i think it's the only repeat i have, and i didnt want to but man it's what i listened to while i was writing jace getting strangled to death in his marital bed so i HAD to. i also think it fits because j2 and jace are funhouse mirrors of each other and it's fun to think about how they're both interpreting the lyrics in very different ways.

for jace's signature song, it's dig up her bones. he got brought back wrong in service of an evil plan! it doesnt matter what came before, who he used to be! that jace died and now this one's here to stay. it's similar to j3 on purpose, but j3's more jennifer check while jaceprime is more bride of frankenstein.

lastly, white crosses is kind of the bookend to this whole deal because of the i'll make my way back home to you chorus. that's very starbreaker to me. at the end of the day, theyre each others' homes. theyre all they have left, even if they hate it.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Hey mod did you see the hundred of last line of defense academy what your thought

//Honestly, at this point I'm exhausted trying to keep up with all of these games. Kodaka won't rest until he puts a Danganronpa spin on every genre out there.

//My face definitely lit up the moment I saw Komatsuzaki's art style, and I'm glad that they're opting to go back to the more visual novel aspect of it.

//It makes me laugh because Last Defense Academy looks like it SHOULD be a Danganronpa spinoff. They're trapped in a school, they have a mascot character overseeing them.

//Rain Code didn't really have this problem (I say problem, but it's not really a problem, just something worth noting) because even if there were some stark similarities between it and Danganronpa, Kanai Ward as a setting, the interactions between the characters, the supernatural element of the story, as well as the overall theme and style of that game made it stand out as its own thing that could be loosely linked to Danganronpa.

//You could legit replace the main cast of this new game with the cast of Danganronpa, and have Monokuma fill in the role of that mascot, and I don't think there'd be much difference.

//In fact, do you know what this feels like? This genuinely feels like what could have happened during the two years before the first killing game, when Class 78 holed themselves up in the school and are defending it from the Despair outside while they board it up and cut them off. It really just does feel like it should be a Danganronpa title, but Kodaka didn't want to slap the name on it anymore.

//I mean, it's not like he can. He doesn't really own the series anymore. But it's clear he loves Danganronpa dearly, and so he should, it's his pride and joy, and there's no shame in basing most of his games off of it. That's what put him on the map in the first place.

//This is the closest thing I have to a gripe. The characters look plenty interesting, and the idea of a strategy RPG-style game coming from Kodaka is cool, and I really want to see where he takes it.

//Narratively, from what I can understand of the plot, Kodaka is taking the stuff he wrote with the Danganronpa series and Rain Code, and he's giving it more of an Assassination Classroom spin. And if you remember some of the discussions I had during the Mukuro Vs Kayano phase of the Death Battle even, I think that sort of twist works really well.

//Not only that, but when I went back and listened to what they were saying in the trailer, it also seems like the team is re-using a really old concept that they first came up with with Distrust; Danganronpa's Beta Version. And that's the idea that your choices can affect which of the main characters die and which one's live.

//Like the typical DR setting, there are 16 students including the protagonist, and the trailer states that you need to defend the school from the unknown assailants for 100 days. This makes me think that the game is taking a Fire Emblem/Until Dawn route, and there will be multiple endings to it, like one where all the students die, one where they all live, one where certain students die and it affects the others, etc.

//If that IS the case, then that's pretty stellar for what Kodaka and his team have put out so far. Danganronpa may be a sensation, but it's simple in practice and execution. It's the character writing that carries it; not the gameplay.

//Rain Code improved upon the gameplay aspect a lot, but even then, it never went as far as this.

//Unfortunately, despite all I've said I can't give a full opinion of it until the game actually comes out, and/or we see more gameplay footage and information of it. The stuff that they showed in the teasers isn't an awful lot to go off of.

//Also, whenever this comes out, there's a chance that, depending on whether I like it enough, I MIGHT add the characters to the blog. HOWEVER, if I DO, then it's probably only going to happen if I decide to do a Phase 4.

//Originally, I only planned to have Phase 3 be the end of the blog's main story, but for all we know, depending on how far this goes, it could very well just serve as the end of the Zetsubou saga. I don't really like dragging these sorts of things out, but this blog and it's story got way more popular than even I was expecting, and I'm always happy to deliver for you guys.

//But again, I can't write promises that my mouth can't cache, so don't quote me on this.

-Mod

[light-end-dragon]

Rondo in Amber and Lapis-En Lyrics

✦✦Valkyrie ✦✦Enstars ✦✦

**This is not an official translation. All rights to the lyrics and characters etc. are property of Happy Elements. The only thing that is my own is the translation**

Note: I suggest reading/listening to these lyrics along with Shu's solo, as they have many moments that relate to each other.

~琥珀ト瑠璃ノ輪舞曲 "Rondo in Amber and Lapis"~(1)

煤けた硝子玉  淡い月と碧い夜

The two glass beads are covered in grime / as I lay hidden, unbidden by time 

それだけを映して  時の函に横たわっていた

The pale moonlight reflects onto me / the glint in my eyes answers back ever so feebly 

優しく触れた指 轉々捲かれてく

Those fingers gently turn the gears round / over and over they spin as i am wound  

発条の魔法が 壊れていた魂にかかった

The magic of their clockworks grow / fastening life onto pieces of my shattered soul

✦✦✦✦✦

暗く……くすんでいた世界

Oh, it’s so dark….Oh, how gloomy it all carries on

色を与えてくれた 嗚呼、旋律は

Can your hands paint my world full of color too …. That song that you play….

この朽ちゆく身すら救済う

Oh, can it save me as I’m rotting away? 

✦✦✦✦✦

踊ろう 唯、その意の侭 人形に意思は要らない

And all I ask is that I can dance as you please  / A doll like me hasn’t a will to appease

黄金の繰糸が 紡いでくお伽話が  一つだけの真実

The only wish that a thing like me needs   / is to come along with the strings that you lead

それ以外棄ててしまおう 

Oh yes-tell me what you don’t like -let me gather it-and I’ll cast it away 

憧れが染み付いた琥珀も    絶望が染み付いた瑠璃も

Like this broken amber I have caught in a prayer / And this piece of lapis dark with despair 

✦✦✦✦✦

下限の三日月の   欠けた影の一片を (2)

The moon above me calls my shadow night / One a replica gave here upon the light

繕ってくれたから    人の形を纏えたんだ

The broken strings brings it as I’m sewn /  fragments that give me a body that looks like your own

時計の歯車が    轉々廻り出す

The gears click into place as they spin / round and around they all turn once again

調律師の振るう   指揮棒こそが命の鼓動さ

The rhythm of the tuner’s baton /  is the same beat that calls me to live on and on

✦✦✦✦✦

例え……崩れていく世界

Yes, and I know….that the world may crumble away

潰えてしまおうとも   嗚呼、構わない

And if I do too, then let it be so, I am just a doll

そう、痛みなどない救済

No, I don’t feel any pain at all!

✦✦✦✦✦

 歌おう 唯、欲しいのは  完璧な環を成す輪舞曲 (3)

Oh please I ask, just let me sing to the end / and let my rondo meet at its refrain

黄金の琴糸が    奏でゆく絢なる調べ     たった一つの星

If it lies with the song you once played / then the desolate star in the sky might have stayed 

この魂……燃え尽きても

Yes, that is my soul you see ….And just like the moon, it may disappear soon

溶けてゆく硝子にも映そう   永遠に消えはしない愛を

Know that though my eyes burn out on this final day / endless is their love as they melt away…..

✦✦✦✦✦

This is not as much a translation note (those are below) as it is me pointing out that I've noticed a lot of the things Mika says in these lyrics are very heavily reminiscent of things Nazuna also says during ExValk days. Mika himself has even admitted that he used his nii-chan as a reference in Acanthe, so I would like to believe this is very intentional.

✦✦✦✦✦

(1). There are a lot of 'everyone knows this' moments I'm pointing out, but either way, the 'amber' and 'lapis' here are referring to his eyes, same as in the lyrics. I also chose to translate the title as "Rondo in Amber and Lapis' b/c most classical songs are titled "Rondo in X Key" and it just sounds better to me that way.

(2). Another 'probably obvious' moment as I've seen it get pointed out before, but it also took me a little while to realize this entire line is a play on words involving Mika's own name.

三日月 "mi-ka-d(z)u-ki"  

欠けた影の一片を "ka-ke-ta ka-ge no hi-to-hi-ra"

plus, the 'kage' and 'hira' use the same kanji as his name does.

There isn't a really good way for this to translate it into english while keeping the meaning of the lines, but I wanted to really try my best b/c I'm stubborn, which is why the line might sound a bit odd. (I'm hoping not, but...)

However, while english has a lot more syllables and sounds for things than jp does, I did manage to get something to work.

The moon above me calls my shadow night (mi:- kɑ:)

One a replica gave here upon the light (kə: - ɡeɪ: -hɪr: əˈpɑː)

Translated more literally, the original line is something like "a piece of the waning crescent moon's broken shadow" so I was trying to match the phonetics while keeping it in line with the moon and shadow imagery, as well as Mika inferring that this is what made up his body as he was given a human form.

(3). This is another very important not for the whole song, but the line here more literally translated has Mika singing something like "my only wish is to sing/be able to sing / a rondo that forms a perfect loop"

Rondo form in music is typically characterized as a main theme or refrain of sorts (I'm using that term b/c it rhymes, I dunno if its supposed to be called that lol) alternating contrasting episodes. A typical rondo is in ABABA formation or variations of. This is likely what he means in the lyrics; he wishes to be able to sing his song until the end, so it can meet back at the beginning again like a proper rondo.

Another note like in Shu's song, a rondo can also be both a music form and a dance, and looking it up, the closest thing I see it coming out to is a ring or circle dance, which seems pretty similar to square dancing in the US. It refers to a pretty broad genre so its hard to pin down exactly what people might be saying when referring to it, but an interesting note is that a waltz can be considered a round dance, round/circle dancing is more associated with communal and folk dancing than typical waltzes.

This likely has rather little bearing on the song in general, but I didn't spend an inordinate amount of time on Wikipedia and other sites to not put something down.

And the final note that is far more relevant to the composition, is about the end. I have to preface this saying that i am not an expert on musical theory, nor am I wholly confident in saying this, so take it as you will.

That being said, I've been listening to the song and melody left and right, and if you recall what I said before about rondo structure, its typically at its simplest, ABABA? There of course can be many variations, but I don't think Mika's song ever finally loops back.

He very well might be singing an incomplete rondo, which makes his line right before it about asking that he's able to finish his song before he burns away....

I certainly feel an emotion, and it isn't good.

These lyrics are not a word for word translation, and are an adaptation of the original song's message, made to (pretty much) fit in with the original vocals. It's my interpretation, but I wanted to keep the meaning close to what it was in Jp while coming across as what one would write in an En song.

[penguwastaken]

On ‘Danganronpa Togami’ also, I would be of the viewpoint that most of what happened in the present in terms of actual events not merely spoken of was real (unlike the interpretation of certain others) and that the way Borges worked was essentially like a more advanced versions of the vision filters from ‘Black Mirror’, replacing what was seen/heard by Blue Ink with regards to the identities of (some of) the people who were being encountered then being obscured/replaced with others if they seemed to contradict what Blue Ink’s reality (as Byakuya’s biographer) was supposed to be, and what words they were saying. That what can be guaranteed to have been real 100% would be those scenes Borges wouldn’t have had the right context to in order to properly filter it off into something else, like most of the Ultimate Despair encounters, Byakuya calling Junko, the brief Mukuro encounter, Toko showing up and Genocide Jill going into action, etc., as well as any information given by characters in the games (like there being 15 to 108 Togami siblings). One particular fan theory building on this concept that I like being that the real Shinobu who died was the actual decapitator in the island flashbacks, Borges having switched around the identities of the major players in terms of what they did in presenting a facsimile of the past for her to look back upon. And that while the Ultimate Imposter may very well have been one of the many Togami siblings, it didn’t matter anymore to his present goals with Ultimate Despair, the ‘Kazuya’ Orvin made that way basically to see how his original plan might have gone if he hadn’t met Junko. It was a trilogy that seemed to assume one had played the other games/read the other novels, that its readership would understand what certain things would be referring to, even if not explicitly spelled out.

What would be your thoughts on the trilogy?

Ignore everything below, my mind has completely changed (lol). Read my updated review instead.

If you want a very short description of my opinion of Danganronpa Togami, it's basically this image.

I can't help but think that maybe if i read the Kagami Family Saga novels or if there were just better full translations, maybe i would have liked Danganronpa Togami more. But the truth is, I REALLY don't like Danganronpa Togami. It's honestly one of the worst media experiences I've ever had 😭

My biggest gripe is that i hate that any flaw with its storytelling can be exempt by just saying "well actually it was all fake and you don't know what's real and what isn't" because that just makes it worth nothing, if the bad stuff can be exempt then so can the good stuff. And it is HEAVILY implied that a majority of the novel is fake, the themes rely on it, it's the main point of the novel. And if they were real, that would make it actual dogshit and also just noncanon because it would contradict Danganronpa 3 and Zero.

I genuinely can't tell if I really like the twist or if I really hate it because it makes so much sense in retrospect but getting to that point was an actual pain to read, and the implications of it are also so baffling.

There's so much god awful stuff in this book like Kazuya and Suzuhiko, the weird recurring incest stuff, Byakuya's really bad and flanderized characterization, and all the absurd stuff that happens like Sakura projecting herself or the despair novel but it's all dismissed by the "it was all made up" thing which is so awesome but so stupid at the same time. If that twist was in literally any other novel I might like it but it's handled so poorly that I end up despising it.

Basically, I don't like this novel. And while parts of it matter, for the most part it can be easily dismissed because most of it was canonically made up.

I shouldn't have to read a completely separate book series to enjoy this. There was no need for all of the gross and poorly handled incest and sexual abuse stuff. Byakuya's characterization just makes him insufferable and his entire motive and actions is kind of gross. And to top it all off, NONE of it mattered. It's not like V3 where the events had an effect on the people involved or changed something, the book literally just describes it as another weekend in Byakuya's life and it's all forgotten and most of it didn't even happen. I sat through all of that for none of it to even matter. Basically what it results is self nullifying nonsense that means literally nothing as none of the events happened.

I'm sorry if you like this trilogy, I just can't find many positives. I went in thinking that maybe the hate for it was unfounded, I wanted to like it. I mean, I think Danganronpa 3 is great, I found redeeming qualities in Danganronpa S and Ultra Despair Girls. So if anyone can find something to like in an unpopular piece of Danganronpa media, it would be me. And honestly volume 1 wasn't even that bad, I remember thinking that it was kinda dumb but harmless. But my experience with Danganronpa Togami can best be described as a decent into madness. I have a lot of issues with it, but that's just my opinion.

[50shadesofoctarine]

Just a thing I've noticed. Tons of (I'm assuming new) tumblr/ao3 users are getting really irritated/upset at unfinished fics and or fandom WIPs on indefinite hiatus, yet, when I go look at the fics/comics/etc mentioned, they have like 10 notes and 0 comments.

If you want a creator to continue to create, you've gotta reblog/comment/kudos their work. On a very basic level, it provides that creator with a boost of dopamine. Y'know, dopamine. The task activation chemical.

If you want fanworks to remain unabandoned, you should be commenting on them like your life depends on it. I keep seeing these brilliant fanartists/writers, despondently looking at their lack of notes, and despairing at their kudos to hit ratio. I've spoken to many a downtrodden artist in my dms. And they're producing quality work! But no one is interacting with their content in a meaningful sense. It's unfair. They create this stuff for free. Hours upon hours spent honing their craft. And still, they're treated like a mindless content generator. Fancreators are not AI. Be kind to them.

I know, from personal experience, that comments are HUGELY motivating. For a few paragraphs in my inbox, I sometimes end up writing thousands of words over my goal for that day. Comments inspire me to pick up my pen (keyboard???) and actually start writing. Here's an example of the comment that coaxed me into doubling the length of QE's latest chapter:

This comment made me feel great! It boosted my confidence in my writing style and actively made me want to sit down and crack out another chapter.

If you want more out of your fandom, flattery gets you everywhere.

[cyxnidx]

Heyaaa~ I hope you're doing great today. I just recently read your works and you instantly became one of my favorite writers 🌻 I'm new here in Tumblr so I don't know if I'm requesting the right way here so you can ignore this if I'm going against the rules. Anyway, may I kindly request an angst/comfort about close friends Itto and gn reader?

Reader was in a dark alley and encountered some creeps who wanted to harass them. The creeps asked if the reader has a partner or someone they like and they said yes. Unbeknownst to the reader's knowledge, Itto was just nearby and ready to jump in the scene but stopped when he heard their friend's answer to the creepy guys. He was confused why he suddenly felt heavy about you liking some possibly another guy and became curious about who is it.

On the other hand, the creepy guys are slowly getting closer to the reader and they said "He's an oni so don't come any closer or you'll regret it!" something like that lmao. The creeps didn't believe it for some reason (either they came from another nation or etc. You can insert your own idea 💓)

I'm sorry if this is a bit long TT_TT coz this scenario is a courtesy of my dream this morning 🙈 I woke up on the last part so I didn't get to know Itto's reaction upon that statement and how it will end. I desperately want a closure 😭 Anyway thank you for your time reading this 🌻 Again if I'm going against some rules you can ignore this 💛

SECRETS TO TELL..?

character pairing: itto x gn!reader

genre: angst -> fluff & comfort

summary: having taken a detour to your home, you run into some interesting treasure hoarders.

a/n: you’re doing it correctly :)) & i took this idea and ran with it..hope i did your dream justice, my love <3 (this came out fairly large..) i also switched a dialogue around slightly. not too much !!

“ha! i’ve won again.” you grinned, watching itto throw his head back in despair. you had quite the winning streak in this game of cards you and itto were playing.

“one more round! i’ll beat you, i swear!” the oni protested, warranting a rematch. you could only chuckle at his eagerness. “i would, but it’s getting late out, itto..” you sighed, picking up your bag and jacket.

you watched as he looked up. it did look pretty dark out. probably already past 8. “you have a point..” he said, standing himself. “perhaps we could play tomorrow?” you suggested, watching a smile perk up on his face at the opportunity to spend his time with you.

it almost made you feel a certain kind of special. almost.

“well that’s that. we’ll meet back up here tomorrow afternoon!” he agreed. the two of you hugged, and he watched as you began walking off to take your usual walk back home.

he couldn’t help but fall further in love with you as your skin and the moon made the most graceful combination. he felt like he was blessed to see such a sight.

it almost made him wish you were his already. he’s not quite ready to confess yet. too early, he’d say.

looking down at the ground to pick up the cards, he realized something — they were yours.

“shit.” he mumbled, picking them up hastily and following where he thinks you went, come to find there was a detour due to the overwhelming population of hilichurls and samachurls.

he would’ve offered to help, but he really wanted to get your cards back. he’d hate for you to come out in the cold again. the detour to your home was a bit sketchy though. a dark alleyway, filled with a bunch of junk.

not only that, but he heard your faint yelling in the distance. disappearing into the darkness, he followed your voice.

once he found you, he saw quite average looking treasure hoarders. the type he’d occasionally see roaming inazuma. however, the event transpiring was anything but average..

listening quietly, he watched the scene go down, careful to be ready to shut the situation down if anything gets out of hand.

“what’s someone like you doing out this late? hmm?” one of the men asked, circling around you.

“trying to get home. now would you please-“ you said, walking to leave them there, though being stopped.

“c’mon. we just wanna talk a bit, yeah? let’s get to know one another.” one of them said, smiling with a false sense of innocence.

“mhmm, have anyone you like? eyes on anybody particular?” another asked, hands on his hips. hesitantly nodding, you decided to simply entertain them until they either got bored of you or left an opening for you to escape.

from the sidelines, itto could feel his heart weighing down on him. he almost felt played, if he hadn’t remembered you were best friends., despite the fact that he always winced internally at that label.

“is that so?” he mused, hands behind his back, the other standing beside you. “he anybody important? or rather, wealthy at all? what’s his life like.” the other pressed.

thinking about it, you could somewhat see through the little plan they had. seeing as though they were treasure hoarders, they most likely planned to rob whoever you described.

with the questions you were asked, it was quite easy to tell. ask anybody about anyone they had eyes on, get them to talk about them a bit and have a general idea of their life or habits. once that’s done, they just have to go look for the matching appearance and do their so-called ‘job’.

you couldn’t help but feel his angsty tone press down on you, pressure growing. what if you’d told too much? would it even be right to answer? thinking about it, itto would be able to handle his own. he’s told you many stories before.

“an oni,” you said briefly. “can i go now?” you asked impatiently. you didn’t feel like fighting, not in this cold.

they shook their heads. “not yet. oni’s don’t exist, don’t you know?” the one on the right sighed. “an urban myth at most.”

you were confused until you realized. the use of oni’s would be in scary stories to tell children, and merely considered child’s play. something used to keep kids from going out late.

however, never exactly recognized as an actual creature, let alone being.

the one on your left chuckled. “I’m sure you’ve already caught onto our plan, or so it seems. so, im only gonna say it once,” he sighed, removing his hands from behind his back. grabbing your arm harshly, he pulled you close to whisper in your ear. “give me a name or you’ll regret it.”

pushing him away, you began running only to be tripped and pulled back. hand wrapping around your throat, you struggled as you were held up. “tell me a name.”

falling down, you choked as you saw the man who was once holding you by your throat on the ground, holding his head.

with itto standing over him, broken bottle shards on the ground. the other man came from behind him, though to little to no avail after being backhanded to the floor as well.

looking back at the man on the ground, he’d passed out from what you’d like to think, a concussion. the next thing you saw was the once aggressive oni meeting you eye-to-eye.

he couldn’t help but give you a silly grin. he could never think to be the least bit of aggressive with you.

“itto?” you asked, confused. when did he get here? how long was he there, and what exactly did he hear?

“heya..” he said shyly, what was once silly turned shy and hesitant in an instant. he held the cards up beside his face. “you..left it.” he told you, sliding them beside you. “so uh..” he began, ready to ask the question he’s been so eager to find an answer to. “i’d like to think..you have somethin’ to tell me?”

the two of you sat silently, not knowing how to communicate at the moment.

one second passed.

two.

three.

squeezing your eyes shut you kissed him quickly and turned from him, sitting criss crossed.

you felt yourself blush once you heard him chuckle silently, only to find arms wrap around you lovingly. “i love you too.”