#of finally dying and stopping the dragon cycle once and for all

[luckycheesefoodie321]

PUKYUU WATCH CH 42

The introduction of what I wager is one of the most complex written characters I have ever personally read about.

My guy, genuinely asking, how long has it been since you last ate?

BUT ALSO LOOK AT AO ALSO WITH HER LIL HANDS PRAYING FOR THE DEER

[beautifulterriblequeen]

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When Viren was ready to die properly, he went out wearing the clothing of a Sunfire prisoner, defending his home against a maddened archdragon. His death was dramatic, but it's still a death within the cycle. He died in Xadian penal clothing, actively defending against one of its strongest figures.

He couldn't escape that cycle, in the end. He spent too much time fueling its great engine.

Thanks to all the parallels between him and Runaan, I've already been worrying for my favorite assassin following a similar route in S7. (and celebrating his return, I can multitask) Specifically, Runaan achieving another death, one of his own choosing, but also one where he remains trapped in the cycle he kept contributing to.

We know someone is going to die. Runaan is very much a sacrificial character. He owes a debt to humanity that is so great he can never truly repay it, just like Viren.

And now he's out of uniform, too. Wearing the shirt of a softer, more penitent person.

If Runaan dies saving someone else, it will probably be Ezran. He owes Katolis that debt specifically. But he could also save Callum, for Rayla. He could save Aanya, other royals, or somehow all of the humans at once. If Viren's call to action and his final foe were both "Dragons!" then Runaan's should be a human threat. Probably dark magic.

Probably Claudia.

One human - Viren - and one elf - Runaan - dying to stop the two halves of the cycle might be enough to finally do it.

The part that makes me saddest about this speculation is Runaan leaving Ethari twice. I don't think Ethari would let him go alone a second time. And with the way we've seen Lain and Tiadrin dance off into their forever-after, happy and together, well...

Ethari wouldn't let Runaan go alone. Xadia could lose its best craftsman as part of the price to pay to stop the cycle. Rayla could lose her last parents.

It's a kids show. You don't generally get to keep living parents on a kids show. No one else has any, at this point. The kids have to grow up and take over. They can't do that in the shadow of their parents, and those parents' sins.

Rayla has made up for her mistake in getting Runaan coined, as far as the Silvergrove is concerned. She can be unghosted now. Any further deaths on Runaan's part won't be her fault. She's free to move forward with Callum.

There is balance here. I could see this playing out somehow. A fitting end.

But, of course, this isn't a perfect show with perfect characters and perfect outcomes. Can I make it a little angstier?

Ahaha. Of course.

Maybe Runaan does try to sacrifice himself, seeing no other purpose for his life anymore, but Ethari takes his place alone, knowing that he will do anything to spare Runaan's suffering a second time, and Runaan is left once again to live, and live, and live, past the point when he expected to perish.

A peaceful long life with Rayla and Callum and no cycle of violence, everything he could want, but no precious husband to share it with. What if living in the best timeline without Ethari is Runaan's true punishment for his choices?

That Green Mile is so long.

[matcha-chai-latte]

Thoughts that I had after reading chapter 260.

Who is toying with whom?

Yona has once again demonstrated extreme, unbending determination to save the people she loves. All of them, with no exception. And she has turned her back on the gods to the extent that she would toss them from the skies if they mess with the people close to her.

But now, if we think soberly and put aside the coolness of her statement, there’s another side of the coin. Like it or not, she is as much responsible for Zeno’s and everyone else’s suffering as are the dragon gods. Did she forget? SHE was the one that permitted the cycle to continue with no hesitation. SHE was the one that told Hiryuu to keep the dragons and Zeno until she meets them. SHE is the very person she should be angry at in the first place.

She’s angry at the gods for the suffering of her friends, yet she doesn’t care that both them and other countless people have been suffering like that for 2000 years because she asked for it? It’s very ambiguous.

I hope talking with the dragon gods will finally put her brains in place and remind her whose wish it was and who is to blame for the fact that Zeno begged her to grant him death. She is the reason he’s still alive. It doesn’t matter that she didn’t MEAN for anything bad to happen, because it still did happen. She has to face this reality to see the situation objectively.

The only thing the dragon gods can be blamed for is that they made the 2000 year cycle “painful”: Zeno’s eternal existence, the dragon warriors’ broken fates and short lives, the Crimson Illness. And the only way for Zeno to finally die is to be killed by Yona? It is extremely cruel. It was not Yona’s doing and she’s absolutely right for being angry at them for doing it. But she had a hand it letting it all happen.

The deal with the Dragon Gods

Now about her dealing with the gods. Despite her statement, of course she won’t be able to throw the gods out of the sky or anything like that. The gods are still gods, and she is only human (with a dragon god’s soul in her). Therefore, even though she will be able to convince them through aggressive confronta..khm..I meant reasonable argumentation, they are unlikely to comply with her conditions without a benefit for themselves. And they have one desire: to return the crimson dragon back to heaven. They did everything they did, made all those people and even both Hiryuu’s human forms suffer only to achieve that goal.

They will grant her wish to save the people dear to her, in exchange for the return of the red dragon. I can’t imagine any other condition they may have. And fate is cruel. Unfortunately, the soul of the crimson dragon is inside of Yona.

And I don’t think the dragon gods will back down. It has already happened once:

Hiryuu went against gods’ wish, stayed in the world of humans and…you know what happened next. If he stays, the dragons will not leave. The only way to end this is for the crimson dragon god to return to the skies.

The dragon gods cursing the dragons warriors along with Hiryuu’s descendants and making Zeno’s life eternal was a plan to return the Crimson Dragon to heaven?

The dragon gods are GODS. They created the prophecy, gave Hiryuu the relics and they knew what was going to happen in the future. Maybe they knew that Yona would make the decision to keep the dragons and continue the cycle. The gods made the cycle painful and made countless people suffer to make the empathetic human-loving red dragon leave the human world in order to stop it. They will face Yona / Hiryuu with the reality and the consequences of her / their decision, which may result in Yona having no other choice but to sacrifice herself and let the crimson dragon’s soul return to the heavens to stop the cycle and amend for what she did. Maybe that was their plan all along. Any decision we make comes with a price and Yona is not an exception.

So, then Yona will face two options: Yona lives on, nothing changes, everyone continues dying / Yona dies, everyone is saved and lives. I guess we know which one she will choose. She wants to save everyone.

But there has to be a trick to it, something that will save her from dying completely. After all, she and Hiryuu are two different people and the dragons want Hiryuu himself, not his reincarnation. That lake Jinsui is still on my mind, there has to be something about it.

That’s how I see the plot proceed unless any other circumstances rise up or unless Yona magically convinces the gods to leave them all alone.

And what’s the deal with Yona’s blood? Zeno’s blood never “reacted” to the medallion, but hers instantly did. What might that mean? What can she do? Will she be the one to go to the realm of the gods or will they descend to the human world?

[sittingoverheredreaming]

TOTK is so great but its story mostly doesn’t hit for me so

THINGS I WOULD CHANGE (major spoilers ahead)

Sonia purposely reaches through time for help against Ganondorf and that’s how Zelda ends up specifically in their time

Rather than being the first king and queen of Hyrule, Rauru and Sonia are the Zonai rulers in an unspecified past era prior to the 10,000 years ago of the Calamity legend

Also, instead of being Zelda’s ancestors, they are Link’s

BULLET TIME IS CLEARLY A TIME POWER, ZELDA DIDN’T HAVE TIME POWERS IN BOTW

BotW/TotK Link is more than just an ordinary dude but there’s no sign he’s chosen by the goddesses like in some other games so why not say he’d descended from the Zonai and a magical monster fucker with time powers

This also makes more sense why they think Zelda could make a difference, because her powers wouldn’t just be copies of Rauru and Sonia’s 

I think also it would be cool to have her be the Sage of Light while Rauru is the royalty/leader of the sages, basically a role swap from Ocarina of Time

Ganondorf (implied to have been resurrected rather than born into the Gerudo as a new man) originally wanted to ally with the Zonai against Hyrule 

Rather than being with the Gerudo, he’s with the beginnings of the Yiga clan (the Yiga are said to have been formed after the first Calamity, but the Shiekah have had a long cycle of being used and then discarded/persecuted by Hyrule’s rulers so I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to have it start before and history has just misattributed it to post-Calamity)

Part of Ganondorf’s argument is that the Sheikah of the time are copying Zonai designs and technology for the Hylian Royal Family’s use, and must be stopped (so much was SO similar I really thought it would be addressed)

The Royal Family already has the blood of the goddess/Triforce/etc, and still they reach for more

Ganondorf blames Sonia, as she is Rauru’s Hylian wife, for the refusal, which is why he targets her specifically

But the Zonai are a fading people, and even if they had the strength and numbers to stand against Hyrule Kingdom, the Sheikah using their technology and building on it is a way their work can survive after they’re gone, and they bear no ill will towards Hyrule

I wish I could have Sonia not die because I love her but that part of the story and the Light Dragon stuff are both solid

BUT before shit starts going down WE SEE HER AND RAURU’S KID. They clearly have one and I’m mad we didn’t see it, why will Nintendo not show us characters’ kids (yes I am still mad Age of Calamity didn’t address if Urbosa had a child/heir) 

Bonus points if the kid like, accidentally enters bullet time while playing around and that’s how Zelda starts putting together that she’s with Link’s ancestors

From there the past mostly unfolds the same as in-game, but maybe with a little more individuality from the sages so the moment when they see Zelda fly off as the Light Dragon hits a little harder

Rauru’s final lines about Link also then will have the weight of knowing Link is his descendant, Ganondorf has failed in eliminating their future

The present is mostly the same as well, except Link gains recall from a tear Zelda hid for him that amplifies the time powers he already has, rather than her giving him her own powers

Then in the final fight, once Ganondorf has swallowed the tear, he moves to attack Lookout Landing, and Link does the only thing he can think of to save everyone– he sends Ganon, along with himself and the Light Dragon, back in time

The fight progresses as it does in the game, up until Link breaks open the tear on Ganon’s forehead

Instead of dying, all Ganon’s malice pours out, coating the dragon and making it near invincible

This is the origin of Calamity Ganon

But this is not the time of legend, it is before, while the Shiekah have begun their work based on the Zonai designs, they are not prepared for an attack

Ganon must be sealed until they are ready, and there’s only one person who can do it

Link calls on all the power of the sages through his hand, reaching through time to draw their power and combine it with his own, and uses everything he has to reverse the tear out of Zelda and return her to her original form

His magic arm shatters in the process. He does not get his original arm back

Zelda seals the Calamity, knowing it’s temporary, knowing that even after everything she’s done, she cannot prevent the tragedies that have already happened. The best they can do is know that they’ve paved the way for their future where he can be fully defeated.

We end on her collapsing against Link, silent for a long moment, and then just, “Link, take me home.” 

[nerdgasmgate]

The Waxing of a Red Moon: Introduction

Weeks had turned into long months. It seemed like an endless cycle of marching, fighting and failing to sleep. And like the shadow curse before them, rumor of their exploits began to spread throughout all of Faerȗn. A band of adventurers led by a Druid of Tiefling descent. A band that would become known as the Red Moon.  

Those who worshiped at the feet of the Absolute, soon felt a trickle of fear creeping in. How had a once indomitable force been broken by a mere druidic woman? How had a chip been cut into the chaotic resonance of the Absolute? These were the kinds of questions that flitted through the mind of Ketheric Thorm as the undying light within his eyes faded into nothingness. 

…………………………………………

  Though the defeat of the General was a heavy blow to the enemy, no feast or song were had. The shadowlands around Moonrise Towers had been stained red. The loss of life had been great. Any spare rooms within the tower were quickly converted into infirmaries and barracks. An inventory of food and supplies was counted and a map of their next journey was laid before all. 

And it wasn’t until the sun began to rise above the fog, dawning a new day, that the band were able to lay their heads to rest. Camp was quiet, save for the sound of a dying fire. Karlach had fallen asleep within seconds of collapsing in her tent. She slept so deeply that she failed to notice that Scratch had snuck in behind her, nestling himself into a little ball at the end of her feet. 

Shadowheart had finished the quickest of prayers just as the sun rose. The light fading in her tent as she clasped it closed. Lae’zel had drunk herself to sleep, an empty pint still in her hand as she snored away, dreaming of red-backed Dragons. Both Wyll and Gale had resigned to their tents, books and distant gaze in hand. 

It was Astarion and Rhaenyra who sat nearest the fire, eyes fixed on the fading embers. After a moment, Astarion broke the silence between them. 

“Bastard got what he deserved,” he muttered. “Don’t doubt yourself.” a cool hand reached for Rhaenyra’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I know.” she finally replied, exhaling. 

Leaning over, Astarion placed a gentle kiss on her temple. “You need rest. Don’t linger long.” The vampire rose to his feet, giving her a final glance before retiring to his own bed. 

Rhaenyra waited until Astarion disappeared before rising and heading towards the woods. Around her, the ash began to fade from the trees. Roots thrummed beneath her, like a still beating heart stirring once again. Stopping among a crowd of Birchwood, the druid removed her boots and knelt down, palms spread across the heating ground. 

Just as she started to take a deep, cleansing breath, a light snapping jolted her to attention. Turning abruptly, ready to face whatever goblin or hellbeast remained, Rhaenyra saw a man. 

Halsin. 

Exhaling with relief, she almost laughed at her own fright. 

“Apologies, I wasn’t aware that you were out here.” although that wasn’t entirely true. Upon the wind, he had picked up her familiar, sweet scent. “They drew you in as well, I see.” he stated, gesturing among the trees. 

“Yes, I could feel them all the way from camp.” she watched as Halsin also removed his boots and knelt down beside her. But she seemed suddenly distracted. Not by the humming around them or by Halsin's appearance, but the memory he triggered.  

Ketheric had landed a near fatal blow to her during their final battle. She remembers hearing Astarion shout after her, anger flaring in his crimson eyes as he turned to face Myrkuls chosen, but she also remembers Halsin. A familiar, feathered frame towering over her, shielding her from further harm. She remembered another shout, one that came just after Astarions. 

“Rhaenyra!” there had been panic in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. A panic that caused her cheeks to flush as she remembered the echoing of her name. 

“Rhaenyra?” Halsin lightly touched her shoulder, concern sprawled across his brow as he pulled her from her thoughts. She blinked a moment before turning to meet his hazel eyes. “Are you alright? You seemed…elsewhere.”

“I never thanked you.” she finally said. “I know it was you who carried me from that pit.” 

Rhaenyra had faded in and out of consciousness. Her eyes flickering over glimpses of the wood elf, his armor smelling of iron and salt, his skin almost hot to the touch. 

Save her. Those were the final words she heard before waking up back at camp. 

Halsin seemed taken aback by her comment. He hadn’t realized she’d remembered any of it. Had she also heard the pounding in his chest as she laid against it? Or sensed the fear he carried as he tended to her. A gentle smile then crossed his lips as he sat back on his heels, his hand falling from her shoulder. 

“No thanks is needed. I would have done so for any of us. I’m just happy the Oak Father brought you back to us.” he stated plainly, turning his eyes from her. 

“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Of course, I know you would. We’re lucky to have you fighting at our side.”

With a change of subject, Halsin looked to the trees. “I’m assuming you came to ground yourself?” 

She nodded, her attention also turning to the wood around them. “I can only spend so much time in stone towers before I have to get away.” Rhaenyra then sighed. “Just one of the many reasons I’m not looking forward to Baldur’s Gate. Cities and I don’t tend to get along.” 

Halsin chuckled softly, understanding exactly how she felt. “I’m sure a creature such as yourself could thrive in any environment, but I get it. I don’t believe I’ve ever spent more than a night or two locked within a city's walls.”

“Perhaps we can fly beyond the walls on occasion. Stretch our wings.” Rhaenyra smiled at the thought. Already her mind pictured the moonlight reflecting from raven backs as they soared above Baldur Gate’s steel and iron mass. 

“I’d like that.” Halsin smiled. I’d like that and more, he thought. But the scent of Astarion always lingered on her body. And Halsin was not the kind to cross boundaries. No matter how hard they may have been to resist. 

Rhaenyra glanced at the druid, only to find him already gazing upon her. I see the way he looks at you, Astarions voice echoed in her mind. I know what hunger looks like. 

These words had only been spoken about a week prior. The band had been sitting around camp, talking of the day's events. As the night progressed, more ale and wine had been passed. It was their last joyful night before they began taking the tower. 

Astarion had caught the bear druid longing for something other than food and drink on several occasions. And it seemed the more Halsin drank, the more sloppy his attempted secrecy became. It made the vampire laugh.

But Astarion could also hear the race of Rhaenyra’s pulse at the sight of Halsin. It was the same, breath catching race he heard when she whispered his name. And who was he to deny her all the pleasure’s of the world? 

“You could partake, you know.” Astarion had offered. “Be a shame not to really.”    

Rhaenyra had given thought to it, but what if she wanted to do more than just partake? What she felt for Halsin was more than a calling of flesh. What if she laid with him but could not leave? Or what if Astarion was wrong. Perhaps Halsin only saw her as a companion. No different than Wyll or Lae’zel. 

Yet there she sat, eyes caught by the warmth of Halsin’s. The two druids savoring the thrum of the forest beneath them. Each exhausted and stained from the day's battles. Each longing for something that seemed so far from reach.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

Hi! 3 and 7 for the ask, please :)

Sorry it took me a few days to get to this, these are great questions! 3. Which of your fics is most different from what you usually write? This was a hard one for me to answer! I suppose Our Fathers Clad in Red is the first fic I have ever co-written, so even though I do not think it is all that different stylistically or thematically from what I usually write, the process of writing it has been very different, but in a good way. I've learned a lot too-- not to hate outlining for one, and I've learned how having two writers with different but complementary styles can really enhance a piece. @aifsaath is a very talented writer and collaborating on it is so much fun that I would gladly do it again, when a year ago I never would have imagined collaborating on a project in the first place!

7. What's your favorite piece of description or narration? It's probably the second to last scene in Chapter 5 of Our Fathers Clad in Red. The entire scene consists of Aegon alone in bed having a particularly bad morning, and I'm fond of the whole scene, but I'll post the two parts like the best below the cut:

Tears pricked his eyes. Just a nightmare, but for a moment he’d felt as if he were there all over again, on that burning battlefield, the smell of roasting bodies— their own men dying along with Rhaenyra’s loyalists, by which dragon's fire no one could say. Criston Cole had pulled him from the saddle, and this Aegon recalled clearly, for there’d been no poppy milk yet to dull his mind, he’d cursed and had called out, his voice booming across the battlefield, “Your king lives! Protect the king!”

Then there had been pain and choking smoke and a voice murmuring the Mother’s prayer and more voices screaming please oh gods please and get it off him, get it off . There had been a brother’s hand latched to his unburnt hand. “Stay with me,” Aemond had said. Aegon had thought he was dying. He remembered having the wild thought that these were his last moments, and they’d be filled with nothing meaningful, only chaos and burning. There would be no final words, no heartfelt goodbyes, just pain and noise and charred flesh. 

It had taken months for the pain to subside enough for him to manage more than a few moments awake at a time. When he started to be allowed longer periods of awareness, he’d found himself an unrecognizable mass of misshapen flesh, and his skin felt like nothing more than his own funeral shroud. He hadn’t yet then found the will to live. That had come later.

The first few months after that, he’d still wanted to die. He’d stopped begging for it at some point, but every time he’d been woken from the poppy-sleep, he’d prayed that he might not wake again. There had been fevers that would come and go, mild infections. Poppy milk had brought sleep and took away the pain, but it left him groggy and nauseous when it wore off. Food never tasted good, and he wasn’t allowed wine. When he wasn’t sleeping, the pain was constant.

He’d cycled from one misery to the next.  Would that he could say he’d been determined from the start to fight for his children, that he’d thought only of his family, but that would be a lie. At first, there had seemed little reason to live if his life was to be nothing but dream-filled sleep punctuated by hours of agonized awareness.

He clutched the blanket, trying to curl himself into a tighter ball, but his legs would not cooperate. Even the more well healed right leg was stiff from the past week of exertion. He was beyond ashamed to admit that occasionally there were moments when he wondered if it had been worth it, if it was still worth it. He was so tired of it, so sick and tired of living like this. There was not a day when some part of him didn’t hurt. 

Now that he was in the capital once again, holding court, there was the fresh indignity of judgment. Bad enough that his healthy young body was no more, he’d lost his looks too, and his dignity as a man. It was almost too much to bear, the lords asking openly if he could still sire children, the women staring at his scarred face and tittering behind their hands. 

______________________________________________________________

In Aegon’s youth, he’d experienced bouts of melancholy, as his mother had called them. Usually, they happened after a visit with his father, and most often they involved copious amounts of wine. Once he had confined himself to his quarters for nearly a fortnight, sleeping the days away only to wake at night and drink until nearly dawn while scrawling maudlin poetry and composing funerary dirges on his lute. Sing this when I die, he’d write in the margins. Sing this one for father. 

Always, it had been his mother who would eventually force her way in, usually once she realized how long it had been since she’d seen her eldest son. Once, a minor marcher lord had come to court with a trio of beautiful daughters and one equally lovely son. When his mother realized she had not seen him flirting with any of the lord’s children even once, she’d immediately become suspicious and had barged into his room with a troop of maids, directing them to tidy up, and then she’d pulled him from bed, bathed him, clothed him, and fed him as if he were six and not sixteen.

He did not write poetry any longer, or songs. His old lute was in the school room, passed down to the children– Jae hated seeing anyone play it but him, but since Rook’s Rest, he’d not even wanted to try. The last poem he’d written had been an apology to his children and Helaena, for all his failures. He’d left it beside her bed, before he’d flown off to battle. The thought of it made his breath hitch and he pressed his face into his quilts, trying uselessly to staunch the flow of his tears. 

[saint-bestial]

@ygoc-week - Day 6

(sooo i know free day is tomorrow's prompt but i didn't really have anything for today's. so i'm gonna do free day today and AU tomorrow if that's ok ;-;)

doing a general lore dump today!! i love rambling about Sylvester, so i thought it'd be fun to talk about a bunch of stuff i couldn't fit elsewhere. i need a bit of a break since i've been drawing nonstop all week. this isn't exhaustive by any means but i know for a fact it'll get long. Sylvester has been in development for like 2 years now and it shows.

i tried to organize everything in rough categories under the cut:

As a Signer Dragon:

like the rest of the Signer Dragons, Sylvester was created by the Crimson Dragon to serve it and the Signers. he participated in the Signer Wars of the past, fighting Earthbound Immortals by air and sea.

his main ability was producing electricity. the orange markings that ran down the sides of his body and tail gave off devastating electric shocks. additionally, he could fire great bolts of lightning from his mouth. he had a high degree of control over the strength of his electricity, but he could overwhelm his natural resistance and injure himself if not careful.

at first, Sylvester served faithfully like the other dragons. but he soon grew resentful of the cycle of war. his only purpose was to serve the Signers, fight, and then lie in wait until the next Signers were born thousands of years later. he desired more out of his life than simply being used as a weapon.

the Earthbound Immortals, feeding off his negative emotions, approached him with a deal. if he agreed to turn on the Crimson Dragon and help them defeat it, its death would break the cycle of war, thus freeing him from servitude. of course, this would mean sacrificing humanity's existence, but he valued humans very little. he was apathetic at best toward them. so he agreed.

when the Signer War 5,000 years prior to 5Ds began, Sylvester turned on his fellow dragons as planned. he received additional power from the Earthbound Immortals, making him even harder to stop. he mortally wounded Life Stream Dragon and facilitated Ancient Fairy Dragon's capture by Uru. it took both Stardust and Black Rose Dragon to finally subdue him, but a final burst of energy allowed him to break free.

actively dying, Sylvester soared toward the Crimson Dragon to engage with it directly. discharging at full power, he flew into its body as a last ditch effort. he was incinerated instantly by the sacred flames. ultimately, the plan failed and the Signers won the war once again.

Relationship to the other Signer Dragons:

Sylvester's mind may have long forgotten his feud with his brethren, but his soul has not. he feels an ancient anger rising in him if they're summoned in a duel against him. in turn, they become similarly aggressive.

he is capable of understanding Signer Dragon speech during duels, and can respond in dragon tongue. this is done unconsciously, the language is embedded so deeply in him that he can't speak in it at will.

Identity and Body:

Sylvester identifies as nonhuman. he comes to strongly believe he deserves dignity regardless of his species, and that he shouldn't need to act human to be respected.

he has a complicated relationship with the body he inhabits. he frequently suffers from phantom limbs and the sensation of being suffocated, crushed, or otherwise attacked by his own skin. most of the scars on his forearms come from him gouging/biting at his skin during episodes where he can't recognize his own body.

despite all the grief his human body gives him, Sylvester refuses to give it up. it's what allowed him to meet Kiryu and experience a taste of a real life. he wouldn't change anything even though he's been through so much pain.

his attachment to his Signer Dragon self is really weird. he doesn't directly remember anything he did, he only knows what others have told him about himself. and while he wishes he could remember, at the same time he's glad he can't. because if he remembered it would change him. he would become someone else. and deep down he doesn't want that, he wants to be who he is now and free himself from all the expectations and preconceptions heaped onto him. and that's the real reason the Dark Signers can't bring him back to his full dragon form.

he can and does talk when he has to, but it's not his preferred method of communicating. his voice is low and rough sounding.

due to being a duel spirit, the process of becoming a Dark Signer produced strange effects on his body. he gained longer, sharper teeth, which he kept even after proper resurrection. notably, he would temporarily grow scales, fins, or even small extra limbs for brief periods of time. they would simply disintegrate, though. despite not needing to eat, he became constantly hungry for raw meat and fish.

after being revived after the Dark Signer arc, he would sometimes experience digestive issues after eating non-meat foods. the issue comes and goes, tending to occur more often in periods of high stress.

if Sylvester's soul were to be removed or partly removed from his body, his eyes would change from orange with a soft glow to blue. the host body has blue eyes, which are overwritten when Sylvester is inside.

On Death:

Sylvester has died three times. Once as a dragon, again as a human, and lastly as a Dark Signer. he's terrified of dying again because he's afraid of being brought back. there's always some god deciding he isn't done.

mostly, though, he fears being separated from Kiryu. he even briefly researches complete fusion at some point, an act that would ensure they can never be apart from each other even in death. ultimately, he decides against this. (this process would combine them into a single consciousness to create an entirely new self, it wouldn't be like a judai and yubel thing)

Care:

he prefers to shower or bathe at least once a day. being dirty just makes the body more unbearable to be in than it already is. he's pretty good about his personal hygiene.

prone to getting depressed if he hasn't been near the ocean in a while. becomes a big problem when he lives permanently in Satisfaction Town. when Sylvester starts getting apathetic and laying around the house, Kiryu knows he should schedule a beach trip soon.

he enjoys physical activity like climbing, running on all fours, etc. he needs enrichment or else he'll get bored.

likes to have small, dark, enclosed spaces to hide. closets are typically best for this.

needs things to chew on

Affection and Intimacy:

after Sylvester and Kiryu become a thing, Sylvester is very physically affectionate toward him at least in private. he's like a cat, rubbing his face on him and laying all over him. a really big cat.

he nibbles too, but he's careful with his fangs.

he reeeally likes to lay on top of Kiryu while Kiryu talks to him and pets him. one of the most effective ways to get him to relax.

Sylvester also likes to show his affection in more practical ways like doing favors and such. care is kind of a big thing for him. he'll brush out Kiryu's hair and help him wash it once it starts getting long. bc good god Kiryu doesn't take care of it and it gets so bad.

doesn't really care for PDA. he's too anxious in public settings to focus on it.

Stuff he likes:

cats!!! he loves cats!!! he likes to collect cat-related objects!!! he's been carrying around an old cat plush he found since he was a kid!!!

speaking of which. he loves plushies. so much. there are so many on the bed.

anything to do with the ocean. fish, birds, water, beaches, anything. he also really loves to eat fish.

there is a part of him that will crave violence always. hey man you can't shove a giant predatory creature into a human body and expect him to not want to do predatory creature things. if someone is an ass to Kiryu he will look at him with sad puppy eyes like Can I Maul Them.

his animals :) besides all the stray cats that hang out he ends up getting some chickens and even a horse. the horse's name is Tempest and he's a black and white paint horse. eventually he gets himself a fish tank too.

DRAGONS

Dueling:

to Sylvester dueling is more like a mechanism for survival than a fun hobby. he learned how to do it in Satellite because it was a way to avoid a physical altercation in some situations. he prefers to win as quickly as possible.

his first deck before he got his current one was composed of dragon cards.

in terms of skill, he's about equal to Kiryu. they've both won and lost duels against each other.

Sylvester's salvaged dragon card slowly heals post Crash Town arc. it appears less decayed visually until fully recovering and gaining a new effect. it is distinctly different from how he looked as a Signer Dragon, combining its design with new elements. it represents Sylvester making peace with himself and his place in the world.

[linnoya-writes]

—Katara: a Lesson on Strong Work Ethic— Sometimes I just think about characters like Azula and Aang, who were naturally-gifted in their elements and became child prodigies, and how Toph became a prodigy with the help of blind badger-moles, embracing earthbending as an extension of herself.  Zuko wasn’t exactly gifted, but he had the Dragon of the West as his private teacher for at least 3 years, and he pushed Zuko to learn discipline and patience.  These characters had the privilege of time to practice their element, and they had excellent masters to help hone those skills to the best of their abilities. Katara? She didn’t have anyone. She was the only waterbender in the South Pole, and she was practically a secret.  I wouldn’t be surprised if Gran Gran discouraged her to waterbend due to the long history of war-violence against the Southern water benders, and perhaps the only reason she occasionally went fishing with Sokka was to sneak some practice. (Why else would she tolerate his antics more often than necessary?) 

Katara taught herself basic water moves without a clue of what she was doing, because she felt connected to that element. It was all around her with the ice and water and snow, so she had to give it a shot, right?  This must have been so awkward for her — her village may have seen her as a freak, but she didn’t care because waterbending was a part of her and she wasn’t going to ignore her ambition just because she was alone with the tools without a teacher.  

Imagine trying to teach yourself how to bake a cake, because you have a huge craving... and the ingredients and stove are right there in front of you... but no recipe. So you end up doing countless cycles of trial-and-error, measuring ingredients, mixing, heating, tasting, spitting out grossness, then measuring different ingredients, mixing them in different orders, then heating everything in different temperatures... learning more from every single attempt... until finally, things start to go somewhere... and you begin to smell the cake more and more as you go. 

That was Katara with her waterbending —and she did this for years. 

Without even understanding what she was doing, she gave herself structure and learned the value of discipline.  She didn’t care if what she did looked foolish, and she was determined to connect more with her element through self-discipline and self-discovery because nobody else was going to help her.  She did it when it was probably the most dangerous time in the world to do it, too. Her mother was killed for being mistaken as a waterbender... but if anything, this gave Katara another reason to keep practicing.  She must’ve known that if she didn’t stop waterbending, a significant part of her culture would die out.  She wanted keep her culture alive. Katara was fighting for its survival; it fueled her determination to learn waterbending.

In the entire year she travelled with Aang, she didn’t wait for teachers or scrolls to show up before giving herself a reason to practice.  She knew there was a war, she knew she needed to protect Aang, and it was her personal desire to master water-bending.  So she practiced whenever she found time to do it. 

Oh yeah— and she was also the resident “mom” of her group, playing the nurse, the therapist, the one who would cook the meals, train Aang, sew, clean. Every time the group arrived at a new place, the group had to adapt to new surroundings ... and yet, she still found the time to practice and train herself in new methods of waterbending all on her own. She was able to gather knowledge from other bending techniques that her friends had, and became perhaps the most versatile waterbender in a century of war.  

She became so good that, within less than a year of training on her own... she wasn’t just able to float blobs of water.  She was able to freeze and thaw water on command, suspend rain droplets, maneuver a water whip, create water-tentacles, create water pockets to travel underwater, create thick ship-disappearing mist, create cliff-high water chutes, create ship-capsize-able water waves, create face-reflecting ice plates, create wood/metal-cutting ice shards, heal internal wounds, and control human bodies against their will. 

Imagine how differently Katara’s skills would have developed had she been given the same luxury of time, resources and masters like everyone else. Those few weeks that she trained with Master Pakku-- excelling more than any student he’s ever had-- demonstrates how passionate and dedicated she was to becoming a master waterbender and learning from the best.  However, would she have garnered the same discipline, versatility, and appreciation to this craft... had she not had to pick things up on her own, in her own time, throughout that whole journey with the Avatar?  I believe it was because of her drive, her self-study and self-discipline with this practice that made Katara so unique of a student, and her sense of adaptation and open-mindedness made her all the more powerful.

Then, take a moment to think about how much wrong the world had thrown at her (the war-devastation, the sexism, the friend-betrayals), all the reasons Katara had to just “screw the world” because what she wanted didn’t come easily for her, and people were never fair to her.  At any point in this journey, she could’ve chosen a dark path.

Think about that, and how, in spite of her tenacity and her extraordinary self-taught abilities... Katara never lost her compassion.  She was an extremely powerful, self-made prodigy, yet she still chose to be good.  Think about how she used her gifts to help bring an end to the war and build an era of peace. She didn’t make excuses to not learn or practice just because she was alone in the South Pole without anyone supporting her of her gift. She didn’t give up because she lacked the resources to formally train herself. She didn’t complain about the little time she had to practice, due to all of her other responsibilities.

Not once did Katara consider settling for another hobby when she realized she wasn’t as naturally-talented as her other bending peers.  She kept at it.

Katara held onto her ambition. She gave herself the time, she gave herself the discipline, and (with her tribe’s dying culture, the war still happening, and the Avatar still a novice waterbender) she gave herself the reasons to work that much harder.   She made the most with whatever she had.  She learned to be resourceful, sharpened her skills and embraced new techniques... and that ultimately made her unstoppable. And...instead of turning selfish and chasing power, like Azula... Katara chose to use her skills to serve communities and inspire kindness instead of fear.

So, all of this is really to say: if you want something, stop waiting for the world to give you permission to pursue it.  Just get to work.  Give yourself the time, the tools, the structure and the discipline to practice getting better at it. Teachers can only push your potential, but they are not responsible for your drive or ambition.  Stop making excuses.  If it doesn’t come easy for you, remember why you want it so much and keep working at it.  If someone says you’re wasting your time, ignore them.  If someone says you should be wanting something else, prove them wrong.  Fight for what you want, and always be a positive inspiration. Let’s all strive to be brave, hard-working, determined, headstrong, and compassionate like our resident badass, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe.

[a-nonspecificexcuse]

Thinking about canon manhunts

Thinking about how Bad told Tommy that he and Ant were “professional hunters” when he tried running away from the Egg.

Thinking about how that one line basically canonized the manhunts.

Thinking about story implications, including but not limited to:

Dream being told by a god (possibly Oogway?) that someone needs to “Free the End” by killing the Ender Dragon and that he’s the only one in existence who can do it (God complex, anyone?)

DreamXD or some other god recruiting four of the most skilled people in the land to stop him from doing so, telling them that killing the Ender Dragon would ruin the world as they know it

George, Sapnap, Bad, and Ant being gifted compasses from some god in the afterlife that only track Dream (Ghostbur had to get the knowledge on how to make them from somewhere, right?)

The gods restarting the entire world and all their lives every time one side overtakes the other, just so their side can win

The hunters cherishing the downtime where they can just gather resources and not have to worry about finding Dream for a moment

Dream having way too much fun coming up with new ways to surprise and/or trap the hunters in his very limited downtime

Dream eventually learning to respect his hunter’s skills

The hunters gaining an immense amount of respect for Dream’s quick thinking

Dream taking a special liking to George and Sapnap especially because George makes him laugh and Sapnap presents a good challenge.

Dream, George, Sapnap, Bad, and Ant being enemies for most of their existences 

Them all becoming numb to violence, blood, and dying after awhile

Them finally giving up the hunt when they realize that the cycle of Dream beating the Ender Dragon or the hunters stopping him from doing so will never end if they keep doing the same thing over and over again

DreamXD having to take over the role of guardian of the End because his hunters stopped

Dream, George, Sapnap, Bad, and Ant becoming fast friends once they set aside their differences because they all have the same dumb sense of humor and actually connect really well when they’re not trying to kill each other

Them deciding to start a little village together where people can stop fighting for awhile and be at peace with each other

George in particular being thankful that after everything he’s gone through, he finally has found one big happy family

Sapnap realizing that he doesn’t know how he lived so many lives without his best friends

Dream being grateful that he has people that have taken the weight of the world off his shoulders

Dream secretly missing being an important chosen one type figure, but pushing those thoughts away because he has grown attached to these people

None of them ever really losing their violent streaks deep down

I just love the implications of canon manhunts, man. Please do add your own ideas if you have them.

[notchesandbullets]

Bodyguard (Tattooed!Hak x Shy!Reader) Modern AU

Warning: Borderline 18+ content and steamy session at the end. Let's just say Hak's not okay with just being your bodyguard anymore after he sees you getting hit on by some guy.

You pranced up and down the grocery aisles, wrap skirt flowing behind you as you tossed various items into the shopping cart. The blouse you had worn earlier for work was much fancier than necessary for a simple trip to the store, but you didn't notice, mind taken up by a certain someone.

A huge, easy on the eyes, incredibly strong man with broad shoulders and intricate tattoos adorning his sculpted body who was dubbed the Dark Dragon by the surrounding towns.

Hak was gentle when he asked if it was okay that he leave your side to go find some pads for Ayame, one of his cousins. She needed more for her monthly cycle coming up and didn't trust Tae-woo and Han-dae to get it for her without practically buying the whole entire store in the process.

Her boyfriend, Saki, was still recovering from a gunshot wound he had gotten in a shooting last month and was bedridden for the time being. So Hak, being the only option left, offered to spare her the trouble.

He was more concerned than you think he should've been when he asked permission to leave your side for a second while he went to go get some. Having trained you himself, you were more than capable being left by yourself for a little while.

As much as you enjoyed the company, you did like your alone time.

And you haven't had much of it since he decided to attach himself to your side. Usually, you liked to grocery shop alone but this time your bodyguard had insisted on coming with.

Originally, he was appointed your bodyguard by Mundok, one of the heads of the Dragons when your father's small restaurant was trashed one night. You had gotten caught in the crossfire and was badly beaten up when the mysterious gangsters came to your rescue.

They fought for freedom and ensured the citizens' rights. They were really vigilantes, but it didn't sound as intimidating to their enemies as a mafia did.

Using it as a front, they were swift and decisive when it came to matters on their territory, nicknamed the Five Quadrants, run by the Dragons, five men who had extraordinary strength.

You knew you would've been killed that night if they didn't come when they did. You owed them your life.

In response, the retired general had entrusted your safety to his grandson, Hak.

Biting your lip as you browsed the crackers to find the one that he liked the most, you tapped a finger to your chin thoughtfully, not finding it among the many varieties. He didn't like you buying stuff for him but you found it handy to have some food on hand specifically for him since he was practically with you all day and night unless he had an errand to run for the old man.

You were head over heels for him. And it didn't help that he was so caring underneath that indifferent façade of his.

You had seen him help people without hesitation and even adopt a stray kitten on a whim. When people were in trouble, he was there. His heart was bigger than most you've seen and was all in when it came to his family and friends. He had some serious ink decorating his body that most people found intimidating but you knew what a softie he was inside.

He didn't fool you for a second.

An admirable quality, that's for sure... You mused, laughing to yourself as you finally found what you were looking for.

Hopping up and down in an attempt to reach the colorful package on the top shelf, your mouth twisted down in a frown when your fingers didn't even come close to reaching it.

"Here, let me help with that."

Your eyes shot open wide as a touch you didn't register as familiar gripped your waist, hoisting you up without a second thought. Fumbling for the package so that he would put you down quickly, you yelped when you missed and ended up knocking a whole bunch of them down.

The stranger holding you up didn't flinch as they rained down on him, setting you down carefully after the storm of crackers had ended.

Brushing back the hair that had fallen into your eyes, you looked up at the person who had so kindly helped you.

He was taller than you, with dyed red hair that somehow suited him. He hadn't let go of you yet and you cleared your throat uncomfortably, trying to put some space between you.

"Oh!! Sorry," He rubbed the back of his neck apologetically. "I'm Kyron."

You smiled at him, grateful for the assistance he had provided you. "Thank you for your help, Kyron."

He smirked at your timid voice and took your hand, kissing the back of it and making your cheeks flame up. "Of course, m'lady. It's my pleasure."

You took a step back as he advanced, swallowing when he backed you into the shelving.

"You are so beautiful. May I know your name?" He asked seductively.

Before you could speak a word, your hand was released and you were being pulled back into a broad chest. Squeaking in surprise when you lost your footing only to be steadied by strong arms looping around your waist, you glanced up to find your furious bodyguard glaring at Kyron.

"H-Hak?!"

Kryon's eyes widened in fear as he took in the dark tattoos swirling around his bulging muscles, his chest about to rip the sleeveless hoodie he was wearing. You didn't move as Hak stared him down with daggers in his eyes. The guy swallowed nervously before backing away, turning tail to run off.

The excuse on the tip of your tongue faded as you faced him, cheeks reddening at his proximity as he stuck his face close to yours.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, cobalt eyes scorching yours in search of a lie as you shook your head no. "Did he touch you?"

"Nothing like that." You said quietly but with certainty.

He released a heavy sigh, tinged with relief. Taking the crackers from you and putting the ones that fell back where they belonged, he took your hand to ensure you wouldn't be touched by someone else again.

The raid on the shop had you wary around strangers more than usual and even though a few months had passed since then, he didn't want to take any chances.

Tossing the pads for Ayame in the cart along with the snacks, he pushed the cart to the checkout lane, paying for all the items despite your protests.

"You didn't have to do that!!" You exclaimed as you both walked to your car.

Sure the job you had didn't pay a ton but you still could afford the necessities. You felt bad every time he pitched in to help you financially since it was pretty often but he always convinced you that he liked to take care of you.

He helped put everything away in the trunk, catching your hand as you moved to roll the cart in one of the outdoor pens.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Hak questioned lowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Um, to put away the cart." You said meekly, shrinking under his steely gaze. "It's just over there."

"It's dark." He stated matter-of-factly, grip gentle but firm around your wrist. "You're not going anywhere off on your own."

"Hak~" You whined childishly. "I'm not a kid, it's like ten feet away."

He ran a hand through his hair, slamming the trunk close. Last time he had left you alone for a few minutes and you got hit on by some guy with weak shoulders. There was no way he was letting you out of his sight for the rest of the night.

"It's still too far..." He muttered under his breath, making you giggle.

"Come on," You urged quietly, suppressing the blush that wanted to rise to your face as he peered at you. "Let's go home."

Ten minutes later, you arrived in your apartment. You had barely stepped foot in the doorway when you were being shoved against the wall. Hak kicked the door closed with his foot, dropping the groceries carelessly on the ground as he pinned to you the wall with your wrists above your head.

You gulped, not recognizing the predatory look in his eyes.

"Tell me this isn't okay." He murmured deeply, tipping your chin up to look at him as his other hand held your wrists captive. "Tell me to stop and I will."

All words dried up. You couldn't say anything. He released your wrists and took a step back.

"I'm not doing anything until you give me your consent." He declared firmly, backing away until he was leaning against the opposite wall. "Once you admit your feelings and decide to acknowledge how much you've been looking at me, Princess..."

His eyes darkened with lust.

"Then Daddy will take care of you."

A week had passed. And then another. And then another.

After you had put away the food and gave the products to Ayame for her cycle the next time she came to visit, you had put it in the back of your mind.

But you hadn't forgotten his words, the promise behind them. You were just too scared to act on your feelings. Hands shaking as you cut vegetables for tonight's dinner, you tried to quell your racing heart but to no avail. You were a goner and you knew it as well as he did.

So why couldn't you let it happen?

Easy. You knew he was under assignment. He wasn't really attracted to you, it was just all part of the job. Your mind played tricks on you, convincing you that he didn't really care and that he would leave once his job was done.

But your heart was stronger.

Throwing down the knife on the cutting board, you hastily wiped your hands on your apron, yanking it off to pitch in the general direction of the kitchen chairs as you sped to the guest bedroom where he was napping.

Not even bothering to knock, you threw open the door, cheeks flushed with exertion.

The sight stole the air out of your lungs.

Hak was laying down on the middle of the bed with an arm thrown over his eyes.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt.

He didn't acknowledge your presence and you approached him cautiously. It wouldn't be the first time he tricked you into thinking he was asleep when he really wasn't.

Sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed so that you didn't touch him, you gazed down at him softly.

Now so close to him, you wondered if you had made a mistake.

Eyes flitting around, you shot up to your feet and headed for the door. You hadn't even taken two steps when you were being tossed on the bed.

Gasping as your body bounced when it hit the mattress, your breath caught in your throat when your bodyguard loomed over you, very much awake.

"Hak..."

His muscles flexed as he braced himself over you, strong arms caging you underneath him without a second thought. You ran your fingers over his bare chest, flushing at how well defined it was.

"Have you made up your mind, Princess?" He murmured in your ear as he traced your jaw with his forefinger, shivering at your feather-light touch. "Or are we going to keep pretending that I don't notice how you undress me with those pretty eyes of yours every time I pass by you?"

He cursed as you bit your lip, suppressing the urge to take you right then in there. You were so cute, so pure, so innocent. He wanted to see your face contort in pleasure and hear the sounds you would make when as you hit your high.

He wanted it so badly.

"Tell me now." Hak demanded, never breaking eye contact with you.

You were still unsure, worried about what the future held but knew what you wanted in that moment.

Biting your lip, you mumbled, "You, Hak."

He didn't need anything else after that. Having your permission, he slammed his lips on yours. You squeaked in surprise at the passionate attack, timidly moving your lips with his. He parted from you to let you breathe, pupils blown wide with lust.

"Was that your first kiss, Princess?" He remarked, tongue darting out to wet his lips and practically groaned at your intoxicating taste.

Pouting, you flushed bright red and he chuckled, leaning in to kiss you again. You mewled in his mouth as he aggressively kissed you, arching your back as he moved to trail along your jawline and suckled on your neck.

Stammering out his name as he pressed his body into yours causing you to sink into the mattress, you flattened your hands against his defined chest when he found what he was looking for.

You keened as he found your sweet spot with uncanny ease, squirming beneath him at the heat that pooled between your legs.

Hak growled against the hollow of your throat, biting and sucking on that spot until he was satisfied with the purple mark that splotched against the pale skin.

"Hak... wait!!" You cried out as he traveled further down. "Just how far are you going to go?"

He grinned, sending another wave of arousal down to your center. Shifting up to meet your soft lips again, he murmured,

"As far as you want me to go. I've been yours since day one, Princess."

He stroked your face gently, pressing his forehead against yours lovingly.

"I don't mind waiting if it's for you."

Tags: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Die for the Many

Mother and my friends adorned my hair and dress with flower wreaths. I still vividly remember the sweet scent of those desert blooms, so many of them offered up and woven together so artfully. I tried to think about anything else but could not get my mind off my fate. Mother hummed all the while.

She hummed so melodiously. So sadly.

"There is great honor in the sacrifice you are making," she said.

As if I needed to be reminded for the thousandth time. They all said the same.

The people of our village all always spoke such hollow words. You could decline when you were chosen, but nobody ever dared. I still vividly remembered the last girl who protested, the look of helpless dread on her face, fidgeting nervously.

She did not protest for long, though. Nobody even forced her, nobody said a word to change her mind—they just looked at her with all the accusations their eyes could project. And in her own gaze, I could see the fire of rebellion dying. The fear taking overhand, and the will to live flickering like a dying flame.

Everybody feared the consequences of failing this sacred duty. I am sure there were others like her, before her. Surely, there were others like me, before me, resigned but quietly unwilling.

Mother hummed, and my friends eventually joined in on it. As if this was a joyous day, an occasion worth celebrating. Fingers that grazed my skin, they felt like ghostly wisps, so very far away, yet electrifying and giving me gooseflesh.

"It is only sacrifice when you give up something meaningful to you," they chimed in.

Oh, how easy it was for them to say. To believe that their sacrifice was giving us up into the jaws of death.

They were allowed to continue living. They got to hide behind their sorrow of losing us. Of knowing no other way than surrender.

Girls like me—we were supposed to die for them.

A tearful kiss on my forehead was all she gave me, in the end. Though I could tell it was not easy for her, that all she did to add levity or beauty or honor to what my destiny foretold, it all only served to outshine the crushing weight of losing her daughter this way.

Generations after generations had lived thus. And watched their daughters die thus. I do not think that any still lived who knew a time before this cycle.

The cycle of sacrifice of the few, for the good of all, and chosen carefully by the Many.

It was the only way our village knew how to survive. In this wasteland, our walls and homes made of adobe stood proud and tall atop the only oasis wide and far. Who knew what lay beyond those windswept dunes, hidden beneath the infinite horizon? Who knew if others would ever find to us out here, or if we could venture into the unknown, and find a different form of salvation?

In the shadow of the mountain that towered above us, the Many selected those of us virgins to wander the path of the rock, to the top of those dizzying pinnacles where tall stone kissed the sky.

To see the dragon, and to offer ourselves to it. To spare our home of the dragon's wrath.

One of us perished in the dragon's maw, and the village continued to survive for five more years.

Such was our way.

Such had always been our way. Nobody dared to lie about knowing a time before it. Some elders claimed to pass on tales of the time before our arrival there, from before our ancestors crossing the blighted wastelands even. But those old fairy tales of pilgrimages and saints and self-sacrifice, they all sounded so absurd. So unreal.

Especially now.

I admit I was selfish. Until the Many had chosen me, I had repeated those same mantras, those same hollow words as all others had always done. Those empty phrases allowed me to sleep at night, to pretend that nothing was wrong. I used to sometimes awaken from my nightmares, covered in sweat, having dreamt of being chosen next. And lying to myself like the elders lied to themselves, and our people perpetuating these myths—misfortune only happened to others, right?

It was noble to give one's life for the others. To obey the law of the Many.

I grew up believing that all of this was perfectly in order.

"There is great honor in my sacrifice," I repeated to the elders as they grazed my cheeks and shoulders and arms with fleeting caresses.

There was something loving about these touches. Of course, they loved the one they gave away. Of course, they loved the one that secured their continued survival.

Never before had I felt so sick at seeing their aged, wizened, wrinkled faces. Knowing they were allowed to grow old and die in their slumber while I would be cut down in my prime.

Devoured by a monster.

I smiled, but it was as empty and soulless as our collective words. It certainly did not reach my eyes.

It never reached our eyes. I remembered another girl who had marched to her death. I had been so small at the time, yet I remembered her with such staggering clarity. I must have looked the same in this moment. A mask to match, to hide the despair; a cork to bottle up the urge to run—the instinct to flee into the wasteland and find a different fate in the sands, stung to death by scorpions and devoured by the dunes perhaps, but leaving them all to their own doom.

I refrained from acting upon my selfish instincts. We regarded such as courage, I believe, even when it stayed unspoken. But was it gutlessness, I wondered? It must have been.

In the end, if all you know are cowards, then it is easiest to fall in line and do as the others live before you. Die before you.

Easiest to uphold a legacy, rather than question it. Rather than mustering the audacity, the bravery to challenge old ways.

Still, they sang, and everybody cheered, and frolicked, and danced. Holding my hand for the rest of the way to the gates of our town, my sweetheart accompanied me. He had the gall to tell me how proud of me he was, how proud he was to have known me. His pain was genuine, but it paled in comparison to my own anguish—I knew this in my heart of hearts.

I never resented another person as much as I resented him in that moment. But it, too, was fleeting. Devoured by the dread that gripped me. The finality of it all, weighing down on me like an avalanche of crushing stone.

My friends were the first to stop following before reaching the gate. They kept shooting glances over their shoulders as the distance between us grew to lengths that could no longer be bridged.

Then my mother and my sweetheart let go of my hands, let me continue forth alone. Though true sadness rang with their goodbyes, it all felt weak. Pathetic, even.

Then the priestesses accompanied me the last steps of the forlorn way, up the dusty road, and they only turned back once the rocky crystalline crags jutted high above my narrow path.

My lonesome path.

And from our village, the Many watched. I felt cold as the Many watched me leave and disappear into the rocks. Back then, I did not understand it yet. But it makes so much sense to me now.

The Many always watched.

The singing, cheering, and weeping trailed behind me, growing fainter and fainter after I lost sight of them, and they lost sight of me. The village continued to celebrate my noble sacrifice, my great honor, but it was no longer in celebration of me. In truth, they rejoiced, their joy of life eclipsed the tragedy of my death. Whether they would admit it or not, they celebrated five more years of prosperity. Of knowing they would brave the wasteland in their idyllic little oasis, for five more years.

As for me, I harbored no such hopes. I admit to my cowardice and fear that had taken root within me. I could not have cared any less about that damned place. Some part of me, the rage within, it hoped to know their bones would one day lay bleached beneath the merciless sun. The adobe walls could crumble and bury them for all I cared. I fantasized about their singing and cheering turning to screams of agony as I envisioned myself in fantasies, of straying from the path and leaving them to their rotten fates.

It would not make a difference to me any longer. For me, the dragon awaited.

But I stayed my course. I truly think it was fear—cowardice—that guided me.

The uneven grounds and sharp rocks bent the leather of my sandals, making the walk as unpleasant as possible. I had to continuously readjust the flower wreath as it shifted crookedly upon my crown, but after what felt like an eternity of walking, I gave up on correcting it. How little would my appearance matter? Would the dragon be picky about its prey's adornments?

The spark of defiance within me never died, even if I had resigned myself to my fate. Too fearful of the consequences of challenging what was, and always had been.

I needed to use my hands to keep going, anyway. To find balance as the dusty path gave way to jagged rocks, and grounds too difficult to leisurely stride upon anymore.

My bitterness had grown to meet my fear. Perhaps it even eclipsed it. I was prepared to get this over with. I would even taunt the dragon, if necessary, if that helped speed things up. I prayed for a swift death, not a dignified one.

Another small eternity passed, leaving the bitterness to poison the well of my mind, flying by as my thoughts circled within the darkest depths of that well, antagonizing the place I had grown up in; demonizing the home I had thought I loved. And with that, I had chanced upon my destination. The precarious path led here, and only here. Only the damned had walked it.

A rumbling beneath the stone filled me. It shook me to the bone. Before I knew it, it felt rhythmic, like breathing. Or a colossal heartbeat.

Finally had I reached the great cave where the dragon dwelt.

A roar erupted from it, suggesting that it sensed my presence. A bright blaze illuminated the cave's bowels and made shadows dance along its rugged walls.

Growled the creature, with the volume of an earthquake and thunder conjoined, "Come to me."

I wanted to run, but I was too afraid. Not afraid of the beast chasing me or of tumbling down the rocks and breaking every bone in my body in a fall that would likely not have had the kindness to kill me instantly—but afraid of the consequences of being punished for breaking ancient law.

Sixty-four seasons young, and that was all it had taken to drill this feeble-mindedness into me.

Thus, I did as the dragon bid me to. What good was I at anything but doing as I was told?

I stepped inside the cave. I trembled all over. Though I told myself I had resigned my entire being to my death, I feared it more than anything now. My mind painted horrid pictures of many ways I could die—of ways I would die. Fire engulfing me and knowing the sensation of being burnt alive, with the skin blistering and sloughing off the bone. Of gigantic teeth that snapped my body like twigs.

Another growl heralded a small flame, lighting the path to my grim destiny.

The dragon awaited me at the end of the tunnel, where its scorched and scarred walls adjoined with a huge, cavernous hall. The rock had molten in its center, a perpetual fire within the stone that cast an eerie red glow, and perched upon a ledge, majestic in its magnificent size, there the beast sat, enthroned above the little creature I was in comparison to its awesome size.

But the dragon was not alone. The gloomy crimson shine revealed to me other people dwelling in this cavern. They surrounded me.

Women stood guard, all clad in armor and carrying spears of fearsome make. Star-metal gleamed in the glow, shaped to perfection upon mysterious forges. Many of the women looked older, grown adult, more beautiful than the day they had departed from the village. I recognized some of their faces. Many others looked strange and unknown, yet familiar somehow. My seniors, some elderly, all people I had expected to be long dead.

Yet here they stood. Alive, and fierce in appearance. Huntresses. Warriors.

Asked the dragon, "Did you choose to come here and end your life of your own volition?"

Imperiously it spoke, with the flames licking from its nostrils, and eyes glowing as red as the molten rock, a wisdom of eons pooling behind its glare.

It answered for me, for I had lost my speech, trading it for bewilderment over this strange sight, when it said, "Or was it the Many who chose for you to die hither on this day?"

A question that was no question. We all knew the answer.

I could not contain myself; curiosity had seized my senses, my gaze wandering across all these women gathered here, and then coming to rest upon the giant scaled beast, covered in horns and wings unfurling.

"Am I not to die here?" I asked, knowing the answer.

More growls erupted from the beast and tremors shook the earth. Murmurs traveled through the Ladies of the Spears.

"Do you know what the Many is?" asked the dragon instead of meeting my question.

With all due diligence and all the reverence I had been brought up to harbor, I replied, "The eldest say the Many is the manifestation of the spirits of our ancestors."

Words that came from a place of constant drill and blind repetition.

Of constant indoctrination.

"The Many is a dark spirit," growled the dragon.

Only now did I realize that the creature had been calm all this time—calm until now, that is. Until now, when fury welled in its air, and fires of rage erupted from its maw without harming anybody present but casting a bright light within the cave.

Said one of the women, every syllable resonating with crystal-clear resolve, "It feeds on the darkness of our people. Every act of cowardice bolsters its body. Every ounce of greed and envy is what feeds its blackened essence."

The strike of her spear against the stone echoed through the cave and punctuated her speech with a fury of her own.

Spake another, with a voice that trembled with anger, "It keeps our people weak. Pliable. It drinks the ghosts of those who breathe their last breath of old age, bitter and yellow-bellied, and it grows fatter with each selfish surrendering of us girls."

The dragon finished their angry remarks, "Whether they truly perish or not matters little to the Many. It knows not that it and I are ancient enemies, and that I would spare every one of your kind to end its existence. Come to me, child. Arm yourself, and we begin your lessons. Soon, the time will come that we march upon your home and face the Many in bloody battle. Only together do we stand any chance against such a demon."

And know you, who listens to me now, of that lost village. Of Umbra.

The day I came of age, my calloused hands could wield the spear better than I could ever wield the sewing needle or the pot. On that fateful day, the demon lost in our battle. And Umbra crumbled in its wake, a desolate ruin stranded in the wastes.

The dragon perished, as did many of my Sisters of the Spear who left their lives on the battlefield. And the Many, a giant hungry shadow it had become in my absence, it took our people with it. When our people screamed in fear upon seeing the dragon, the Many sapped them of their very life force and used it to grow to terrifying proportions. It used them as its shield, used their fear as its axe. Matched our resolve and slew so many before we could even hope to best it.

But as with all evil, now I know, it can never be eradicated. As long as man lives, darkness dwells in man's heart.

You seek the oasis? You seek the treasures you think we left behind in Umbra? You are a fool.

Do not go there. You will find only misery, and perhaps you will birth the Many again. For we could not destroy it. A dragon and all of us warriors, and we could not destroy it. We could only bury it beneath the bones of our ancestors and the crumbling adobe walls of our fallen village.

You cannot destroy it, either.

No man can.

As long as weakness lingers in the heart of man, the Many can feed upon it, and will always return.

Turn back now, traveler. I beseech you. There is nothing beyond this wasteland but death and gloom. Do not tempt fate, do not make our battle something that was fought in vain. For as long as Umbra stays buried and forgotten, so does the Many.

I care not for your story. Your excuses are feeble. Your supposed motives do not impress upon me.

Your greatest honor would be to now heed my words—to sacrifice your quest and abandon your folly—and turn back. Turn back now—or I shall do us the favor of striking you down before your greed can feed the Many again.

What shall it be?

—Submitted by Wratts

[lesyeuxdeflwr]

NOTRE AMOUR INTERDIT. [ OUR FORBIDDEN LOVE. ]

☆ warnings : cursing ( probably ) BOLD IS NARRATOR’S DIALOGUE. BOLD ITALIC IS [BLONDIE] RED LOCKS’ CHANNEL. Character names are kind of cringey since I based it on Ever After High characters.

☆ pairing : kuroo tetsurou x reader <3

☆ AU : EVER AFTER HIGH! x HAIKYUU!

★ sypnosis : You and kuroo weren’t the least ideal pairing if you were to be a teensy weensy honest to your own uneasy and scattered thoughts. Okay maybe SCARTCH THAT, you had to be MASSIVELY honest. I mean for real, the daughter of Belle and the Beast, a royal; coupled up with the son of the vicious Gaston, a rebel? Both of your parents and Headmaster Grimm thinks the both of you can seriously do much better. "If you’re a Royal. You must marry a Royal. If you’re a Rebel, you must marry a Rebel." The bullshit they would say. Apparently Kuroo and you thought the opposite.

★ author’s note : I haven’t wrote in so long 😇🙏 I myself find this absolutely cringe worthy but I tried 😬😬. I was and still absolutely in love with Ever After High so I just wanted to give it a try, like the idea just popped into my mind and wow "seems cool" 😱😔🙏😯✋🤨❌😐🙏

You and kuroo never wished to be stucked in both of your parents wretched legacies. It was something you never asked for and will never ever need. And ever since you knew you were destined to dump his ass just for a so Prince Charming and for you to be able to live happily ever after with that so called 'Prince', it was an definite no. Your story was just like any other tragic heck of of a love story. Just like Romeo and Juliet..but definitely without the dying part, you thought. And this time you were dedicated to stop the multiple dragging of the stereotypical cycle that had been stretched on for long ages and decades, it had absolutely sicken you to death. Kuroo and you were just teenagers. Both who love each other to death to even have the biggest confidence to rebel against your parents. Plus Kuroo wasn’t anything like his dad. His dad was arrogant, vicious, overly narcissistic, obsessive, and chauvinistic. While, him. He was everything you wanted. They never deciphered who he was, to them he was the exact embodiment of his old man. But to you he was just another smart closeted nerd who gave unfunny jokes, to you he was a dorky simp who’d make flower crowns whenever you had dreamy secret garden dates, to you he looked just about like a puppy when waking up with his unusually messier bed hair, to you he was your twin flame, your other half. Though definitely he was surely narcissistic from time to time but he was nothing too overbearing. It wouldn’t make sense if he was Gaston’s son and wasn’t at all manifesting and voicing out his arrogant opinions about his looks once in a while, right?

But you couldn’t really blame him either, he was just out-rightly plain handsome. You giggled lightly a hand over your mouth, that was your first thought about him. In your first meeting. It wasn’t really a fond memory of yours at first, before you started seeing each other. You two clashed bad, hardly any space to confine in between the both your petty arguments towards each other. You were as sensitive as him as he was as sarcastic as you. You’ve never even thought of about standing two feet near his as you’d say before 'Rebel ass'. But now here you were stroking his abnormally large rooster bed hair lightly while he had his head laid on your lap humming a cute song that had been both of your favorite song ever since you’ve introduced him to the diverse beauty of music. You should thank the Cupid of Ever After High, Yachi Hitoka for having you slowly grown off your slow burn wattpad kind of story and into the land of sweetness and absolute love. "Have you ever heard of the song 'Line without a hook'?" Kuroo had asked you kissing the top of your right, soft, and feminine hand as he stood up into a sitting position, laying his head on your comfortable and long neck. "No? Is that like a type of figure of speech or a slang term I missed hearing about? I swear Alisa always tells me the new slangs." Kuroo nodded through the crook of your warm neck. "It’s kind of like me telling you that I don’t think I’ll be able to live without you. You’re a big deal, a Royal, a princess, and I’m just a Rebel, a villain whose job was to ruin everything they surrounded. I’m a line without a hook, except I do have the hook. You. you were and will always be the hook to my line. But I’m beginning to wonder if you would really want to be with me. I mean you’re just so wonderful? So beautiful, so admirable—" Before he could even process on with his ramble you’ve already chapped his lips on yours, kissing him desperately like it was the end of the cruel world— a demanding but soft kiss. It wasn’t the even the first time you kissed but holy fuck, Kuroo had still heard his loud heart beating, enough to get him into a frenzy as he felt his knees grow weaker and weaker to your touch. The way you curled your fingers around his own, your own fragrance that he loved ever since, smelled like books with a hint of freshly baked cinnamon and strawberries. He wasn’t sure if nature rooted for this moment or if his mind tricked him into a perfect present, but every breath he took smelled like jasmine and for the first time since he’d known himself, he didn’t feel insecure because you who had been there for him, although he was too blinded with his own doubtful thoughts to see. Had basked him with affection and the warmth your body gave off. This time around he draped both arms around your own small frame and met your lips again halfway.

You’ve finally decided to rip the both of your lips from each other as you made eye contact with his soft hazel eyes, it reflecting so ethereally under the winsome hues of orange tangerine, mellow yellow, murky red the sunset had offered. "To start with I choose you and I will never choose anyone else, Kuroo. I will never not love you. You are so beautiful, so handsome. My love for you is so strong that neither a bank full of riches could break it down. Kuroo I love you, and I always will. Let’s go through this together, yeah? You don’t need to carry the burden for your own self, love. We’re in this, the two of us, together." Kuroo couldn’t help but spread a euphoric grin to his face as he tackled you into a tight hug under the cherry blossom tea. "I love you so much."

Lunch had came to Ever After High as you and Kuroo had pretended to despise each other through your expressions but something was different. He wasn’t as intense with his glares, it looked more nervous than it should have. Wait why is he standing up? Why is he carrying an enormous amount of pink roses in a big bouquet? Why are birds dropping petals around him, singing angelic and melodic tunes? Is he going towards your direction? You thought he wanted the both of you to be an unknown secret? Thoughts go through your thick head as you hadn’t notice Kuroo had already been in front of you. "You had made me realize that maybe, just maybe, we can be able to defy against all odds and stop the stereotypical cicrcle once and for all. So will you Beauty Y/n accept my public confession and mark this as our first day of not having to spend days and nights planning out hidden dates?" Before you could have comprehend your own body was not cooperating, your legs giving out as you find yourself already wrapped in kuroo’s sweet smell as he held you high up twirling you around, arms balancing you, and two goofy smiles plastered on your face. "Y/n? You and Kuroo a-are dating?" Alisa Haiba White, daughter of Snow White had asked so hesitantly. "B-but you’re a Royal? And he’s a..Rebel?!" She had opened both of her hands that looked like she was offering, transitioning over to you and Kuroo. "Totally awkward!" Terushima Yuuji Hood, son of Robin hood. Singing as he played a small rock tune on his guitar along with it. You ignored her and Hood as you stroll to the opposite side of their direction pulling Kuroo with you, he gave her an apologetic look shrugging his shoulders and obediently following you.

"A Royal dating a Rebel? That’s just not how the tale is told."

"The followed their true hearts! After all that’s kind of the things you do in True heart’s day? It’s in the title!"

"So fellow Fairy Tales! Red Locks here aka Tendou Satori, to give you reaction to the Royal Rebellious romance!"

"I think it’s hexcellent! Y/n and Kuroo decided to rewrite their destinies, what’s wrong with that?" Alisa can be heard and seen from the back, her cries and tantrums shown throughout the interview. — Interview answered by Sugawara Queen Koushi, son of the Evil Queen.

"I feel for them. I mean keeping secrets is hard.." Terushima can be seen trying to steal Kenma’s food failing as the red hooded boy, threatened him with his piercing gold eyes. —Interview answered by Kenma Kozume Hood, son of Red Riding Hood.

"A Royal and a Rebel? Heh. They’re from two different worlds—" Hot blazing fire shots towards Oikawa’s strong shield, a big and buff dragon towering over him. "I am trying to do an interview here!" He threw the shield on the ground as the dragon let out a whimper and sulked in fear. — Interview answered by Prince Oikawa Tooru Charming, son of Prince Charming.

"I’m worried about Y/n and Kuroo. If they don’t follow their destinies, their books could close...forever." — Interview answered by Alisa Haiba White, daughter of Snow White.

"Remember our quiz tomorrow, on Tiara sighs and future neck problems." You begrudgingly stride towards your best friend. "Alisa we need to talk." Alisa stopd up a sorrowful and worried look plastered on her face. "N/n this is hard for me. Which is a first because I usually handle everything so very well. I’m just surprised you didn’t trust me enough to tell me." Alisa’s hand shapes into a small crunched heart as she places it under her chin midway, into her second sentence. "I know. I just didn’t think you’d understand, well mostly because you’re very much strict in following our own destinies." Alisa creases both her eyebrows hand staying staying still under her chin. "I guess I don’t? It just doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to someone I care so much about." At this point Alisa’s arms were crosses against each other the clash of her eyebrows going even deeper.

"And so you’re telling me all these heart-shaped cakes are for your play...?" Headmaster Grimm had asked as he opened the white boxes that was offered. Cute shades of pink are shown throughout the exquisite designs of the heart-shaped cakes as it is shown in his line of sight. "Y-yeah for the play! T-they’re for the really funny scene, where Suna throws them at Yamomoto!" Yamomoto Taketora, the son of the Frog Prince. Had looked so done with his life blustering out a small, "Excuse me?!" Suna Rintarou, son of sleeping beauty. Went down the the Headmaster, as he winds up his shoulder throwing the heart-shaped cake at Yamomoto. "Very well." Both Yachi, Suna, and Yamomoto had sauntered down their shoulders a hard sigh of relief passing through their throats and out their mouths.

You walked through the rocky roads as multiple clothing, hair, shoe shops surrounded every corner of the side roads. You stopped at the shop Alisa was in your right hand touching the window as your longing gaze intenses, of course you would miss your best friend. "Hi Y/n." Duch Kōrai Hoshiumi, son of the Swan Queen had appeared in front of you suddenly as his voice held a gentle and almost desperate tone. "Duch. What do you want?" You let go of your lingering touch on the window as you walked to the opposite direction of the latter. "What do I want? My own happily every after, of course! And now that everyone knows that you’re dating a Rebel it looks like there’s one available. No hard cover books for you, boo." You look at him hurt and worried. You didn’t know whether to be worried of how he was so invested in ruining others life just because he won’t have his own happily ever after. Or be hurt by the way he told you that publicly dating Kuroo was the biggest mistake of you life. Why not just write your own destiny, like me, like Kuroo, like the both of us? "So you’re happy about Kuroo and I are dating, while my best friends aren’t happy? Maybe I did make a mistake..." Hoshiumi widens his eyes mentally slapping himself as the guilt slips in, he shakes his head. Not like he would tell anyone what he was actually feeling. "What?! No! You’re totally doing the right thing! Follow your heart...and..uh all of that.. sappy stuff.." He was too late for you were already running around the corners, laying in your shared dorm room with Suna. Am I taking back what I said to him? Am I doing the opposite of what I’ve promised to him myself? Am I going to stop ‘never not loving him'? But I can’t. I love him too much. But what about Alisa. You know what, fuck this. If she can’t accept who I love it’s not worth it to continue our friendship. We’ll keep on holding on to the person who we thought each other was rather than the present persona we have right now.

That’s what you thought.

"Sorry but I’m saving this for Y/n." Kuroo mutters placing a mirror frame with a picture of the both of you together, cuddly and kissy. The lanky teenage boy who had been rejected begins to find another seat but not without a nasty glare and an ugly leer to spare. Kuroo whistles a high pitches tune with his fingers between his lips. A squirrel and a bunny hop their way to the table wearing cute mini suits, arranging a fancy dinner plate set and an extra extravagant candle that lit up the moment it touches the table. "Hey Y/n!" Kuroo waves his thinly hand at you, clearing his dry throat. Two birds pass by you dropping your favorite kind of flowers. Tulips. And finally a hand-made flower crown is over her head, now dropping. He made the flower crown the way you like it. "Kuroo.. we need to talk." Kuroo has this sense of urgency, just from telling by the way you talked he could already comprehend it was something bad and he wasn’t ready. "Uhh..Y/n?" He never was and never will be. "I just— I thought this would be a good thing. You showing us we’re dating to the whole school. I thought it would take the pressure off but now...everything is worse." Kuroo can’t bare to look at you, if he did he would’ve broken down here and now. "W-what do you mean? I thought we were through this together? I thought I didn’t have to do this alone? Why does it feel like I’m drifting away from you again, but this time. This time it’s you whose the cause of it?" You could already feel the horror and grief you would during the aftermath of these heartbreaking events. "I-i don’t know, but what will happen to our stories, to our legacies, to our destinies. I swear I’m being such a hypocrite now but what if it is best? What if we really actually were not supposed to be for each other? I don’t want anything bad to happen to us, to you. I think�� I think we should break-up."

"And so, as the Sun set in Ever After High. The students were getting fairest for the big dance."

You looked at the the side of your mirror a clear picture of you and Kuroo placed with a heart-shaped sticker. The frown on your face had become much more frowny, if that was even possible.

"Give it up for Semi Eita Piper!" Loud cheers of hilarity can be heard from the whole room as they danced to their hearts content to the cool music and beats Semi Eita Piper, the son of Peter Piper had in stored for them. "Now since True Heart’s Day hasn’t been spelebrated in such a long time I wanted to tell everyone what it’s all about. Once upon a time, there grew a very special tree. The Heart Tree. And even if the winter was harsh, and the other’s failed to bloom; the Heart Tree blossomed no matter what. And so, our Fairy Tale ancestors gave the blossoms to each other on True Heart’s Day. To show that even though it’s not always easy true love will always find a way. And so to encourage all of us to follow our true heart—" Petite and ethereal fairies fly all over the room dropping multiple numbers of hearts to the students inside each receiving colors of hot hot pink and lovely red. "Make sure to give yours to someone special to you!" Before you knew it you were already on stage with your friend, Yachi as you ask to take the mic from her and prepare for your small speech towards the only love of your life. "Excuse me— uhm can I? Kuroo? When I listened to my true heart, it tells me that you’re the only one. You’re my Prince Charming, villain or not. You’re my love, my everything, my twin flame. And I think you’re a fairy tale. I think you’re magical , and brave, and exquisite. And I hope you’ll let me be in your story once again." Kuroo was about to say something but Tendou beat him to it as his curious personality spikes him up as the son of Goldie Locks. "But how can you be a Royal and date Kuroo?" He looks at you intently as if waiting for your answer, hoping it would be a good one. "If writing our own 'Happily Ever After' means I can’t be a Royal then call me Beauty Y/n the Rebel!" You pointed your left pointing finger as the once worry wart look on your face had disappeared and was replaced with a jovial and confident smirk. "Kuroo? I want to give this to you, if you’ll have it." You grin at him awkwardly offering the small heart to him. "Of course I will, I can never resist you no matter what." He would’ve begged you either way to come back to him after the part but this was a hundred times better.

"Alisa! I-i’m so sorry I just had to do it and I love him so mu—" Alisa had approached you with a frown on her face offering her small heart just like how you offered Kuroo your own heart. "I might be worried about you, and I might think you’re doing the wrong thing, but I want you to know we’ll always be friends. That’s what’s in my True heart." You smiled widely at her, finally coming into good terms and resolved the issue once and for all. "Thank you Alisa!" You let out an insanely jovial glee at her. Dragging your bed headed boyfriend, you slow danced with him. "Do you think we could have cuddly sessions after these?" He asks hesitantly playing with the hem of your silk dress. "At our cottage in the forest Sir yes Sir." You bluntly said so serious that Kuroo can’t help but laugh because you were just absolutely too cute for your own good. He leans in your forehead, ignorant to both your height differences as he basks in his own enjoyment, happiness, and joy he is now currently feeling. He is happy, you are happy, both of you are happy.

[taptroupe]

evergrace chapter 11 FINALLY LET’S GO LET’S GO

This would happen if darius did not push the two out of the way in the first four lines of this chapter. yes. lmao. 

WILL DARIUS AND CO MAKE IT OUT OF THIS BATTLE ALIVE?! READ MORE NOW. LOTS OF FUNNY ART WITHIN

they’re teleported into the lab, which has a dome like ceiling, very spacious, and with markings engraved into the walls. the light of the magic circle fades away, and....

Immediately, Darius pushes the two out of the circle. Right in front of his eyes, a roaring flame crashes into the floor, making a wave of red. The fire dies down, revealing who other than that small child... Trandin. 

And behind him, standing on a shadowy pillar was... ooohooo.... The Morpheus.... or something like that

“Hyohyohyo, you’re here, you’re here. I’ve been waiting...”

“Give Sharline back, now!”

“Hyohyo, seems like that little missus is very important to you, isn’t she?”

Morpheus pointed a skinny finger to a corner of the room. [i swear the lab is circular]

Against the walls of the circular lab, several enclaves sealed off with green glass. In one of them, a small, enclosed room where Sharline was held. Turning to face Darius, she seemed to be shouting something with all her might as she hit the green wall of the room over and over.

“Indeed, the Cycle was a big help, a great lab rat to aid in freeing this country from its binds. To let go of such a test subject, never!”

Sharline pointed to another room beside her. There was another woman, the same person who kidnapped her back at the Human Research Lab. The woman who saved Sharline’s life - it must’ve been Sienna.

From behind Darius, Orladin and Ralbadora jumped forward. [there’s a metaphor here for jumping as fast as rabbits, please imagine they wavedashed] Trandin’s eyes seemed to dart from left to right, confronted by these two -

“DON’T LOOK AT THEM BUDDY. I’M DARIUS AND I’M GONNA FIGHT A CHILD WHO IS YOU. MEET YOUR NEW BULLY”

Darius readied his spear, forming a ball of ice palmira at its tip. Blasting it off, a countless number of shards were aimed at the young boy. But, a wall of light appeared, and it probably melted those shards or threw it back at darius, whatever works. Trandin, weakened temporarily by his epic flex of power, floats to Morpheus’s side.

“How, Trandin, how can you already be at your limit? I gave you the ultimate weapon, the Alcrest! Did my readings on the Cycle go wrong somewhere.... Useless!”

Morpheus waved his cane, and ORLADIN JUST GETS HIT WITH A BLAST OF THUNDER. MAN WAS JUST STANDING THERE 

“Prince Orladin, it’s an honour that you came all this way. These two men are here to save these two ladies, but you’re here for Princess Lismur, aren’t you? How about you look through this door, then?

Hyohyo, what a nice man I am, aren’t I? However, you’re the one who left the princess behind in the castle - she must be in so much pain, don’t you think? I’ll let you meet her again.”

“WHAT?!”

Morpheus, standing atop his shadowy pillar thing, raises a hand. A certain green wall in the back disappears, and out comes black, black ivy... Ivy that entwined the princess, slithering out...

“Orladin?”

An overflowing wave of black seemed to approach Orladin, who was standing with sword gripped tightly. Watching the whole spectacle, Morpheus simply laughed to himself full of satisfaction, as if dancing.

[the descrption of lismur comes from the rieubane castle chapter. blonde long hair, blue eyes, a red dress. . ...................... i had to make her naked here at least i wouldn’t be reminded of katia and get too horny to translate more LOL DON’T READ THIS DON’T READ THIS PART]

Suddenly ralbadora tries to hit morpheus while he’s laughing, but the man in black armor is deflected by a shimmering wall as usual. An assortment of blades, all engraved with dragons, all trying to break through that protecting light wall. But only sparks of beautiful green light came out.

“You! There was another Palmira soldier you had at your disposal?”

Waving a cane, Morpheus launches a purple ball of energy as Ralbadora, but he’s cool and just jumps backwards before opening his mouth to speak (coolly).

“I have neither the Crest nor the Alcrest. The Palmira soldier you (derogatory) speak of, it is not I (politely)”

“What? So you’re another one graced by the Cycle?”

[note the usage of grace. heh. lol. yeah when they say evergrace the grace bit is meant to refer to “being chosen” or “favoured”]

“My power comes from The Mother of All Things. I do not know anything regarding this Cycle you speak of. For your senior of your age, I suggest you get off that platform for your own safety.”

“Hyo, say that again! The one backing off will be you lot!”

From the ground underneath Morpheus, a ring of light appeared, hitting Ralbadora’s feet. Well, obviously it’s gonna hit his feet, right? From his platform, Morpheus raised a shaky finger.

“Hyohyo, now look well. To the little miss you call Sharline, keep your eyes glued!”

Darius was in the midst of the battle with Trandin, when suddenly a groan reverberating through the air made his body freeze up.

From beyond the green glass wall, Sharline was grasping her head, body hunched over in pain.

From atop this black platform, Morpheus raised a finger, and suddenly Sharline’s body lifted from the floor - with the floor below her crumbling.

[you can probably guess the floor below her is probably you know, air]

“Don’t move! If you do, this girl will...”

“Morpheus, you motherfu - URGH” 

Trandin’s ball of light hit Darius’s chest, blasting him away. probably sending him flying, can never tell with tobasu

Orladin, who had given up cutting the ivy intertwining around him, seemed to be entranced into the pale arms of the princess.

Ralbadora, at least, could slowly approach Morpheus, letting out a weakened voice.

“That girl is important to us... As she is to your research, isn’t it?”

“A good assumption, but no. I don’t have any sentimentality for the little missus. Sure, Trandin wasn’t the right research sample at all, but the use for that is all over now.”

As Morpheus’s finger danced, so did.... i’m sorry sharline..... So did Sharline’s body, violently shaken around in midair. Ralbadora could only look on in anger, as Morpheus laughed loudly.

“And now, you can’t even run away. Only pitting three people against me? Just foolish! For believing you could even try to oppose me, I suppose I’ll just turn this girl into Palmira.”

OY WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO!? SAY THAT AGAIN

SHARLINE IS NOT JUST SOME KIND OF FERTILZER FOR YOU BASTARD. SHE IS A CURED DELI MEAT - I MEAN SHE IS MY FRIEND

“TURN INTO PALMIRA?!” Darius groaned.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? Whether it be Billiana fruit or a human, both can be transformed into Palmira. If we’d known this sooner, there sure would’ve been a lot less waste.”

The three could only watch as the cheerful Morpheus continued his monologue.

“Hyohyo, Trandin, fetch the Crest if you could please.”

Trandin floated over to where Darius was, and landed in front of him. Extending his small hands out, Darius tried to shield himself with his own arms.

“Hyohyo, a tug of war, is it?”

“Trandin, stop it!”

A spiral of yellow light appeared before Darius, unfurling itself to be none other than Krisalis. She fluttered noisily at Trandin’s emotionless face.

“Trandin, can you hear what I’m saying? It’s me. Please, stop this.”

“What in the.. You’re... No, it couldn’t be...?!”

Upon realizing Krisalis’s appearance, Morpheus turned his head towards Sienna. Beyond the wall, her head was slightly lowered, with her hands resting on her chest, unmoving.

“So if that’s how you’re going to be, one ridiculous thing after another... Then you’re next!”

Morpheus raised his hand, and suddenly Sienna’s body................. BENT BACKWARDS?! JISHO!?!?

Krisalis let out a wail of pain.

“.....Tr... an..... din.....!”

The bird-like shape disappeared, leaving nothing but a spiral of yellow light left in front of the boy’s eyes.

But, slowly, his eyes grew wide.

“Mom..... my?”

no agetec, not mom, my. mommy

As the yellow light gently embraced the boy, he turned around and looked at Morpheus. And he flew to him, as if an arrow flying from its bow.

Of course, the reflective wall around Morpheus repelled the boy, but only for a moment. In a flash of light, the wall came crashing down.

Morpheus, still focused on Sienna, was knocked down from his platform. As he tried to get up, a short sword swung by Ralbadora struck him.

“Trandin?! Wait, no, how, impossible..!”

A green, glowing sword with a polished tip plunged deep into the robes that Morpheus wore. His body leaned uncomfortably backwards, cane on the ground. This is basically old man dying i’m skipping this tiny portion.

The blood stained the robes black. Painful breaths, veiny arms, clawing over to Sienna’s wall.

“Why... Now... You’re going to destroy it all... Your very purpose.... Your reason to live.... Destruction...

Truly, you both are... A demon...”

A shaky finger pointed at Sienna, who kneeled down in her cell. She had a face of sadness, listening to Morpheus’s groans of pain, she tried to say something with nothing coming out. 

With great effort, Morpheus raised his finger once more.

“Why.... Does this world.... have something.... like you.... a demon... exist? Everyone..... was..... alive......”

“I’m sorry..... Even I...... Couldn’t do anything.... Not a single........”

Sienna turned away.

“My..... To Medina, I..........................................”

With that final word, Morpheus’s arm dropped to the ground. 

And that was the last of Morpheus’s strength.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Ye who held too much faith (Platonic)

welp hi again, can i request daenerys x brother!reader (or sibling if ur not comfortable writing for male reader) where r gets injured and dany takes care of him. whether he wakes up i leave it up to you

AN/ Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my writing :D Hope you enjoy!

There had been attempts on your life before. In fact, there had been multiple attempts on both of your lives during your journey together to cross the sea to take what was rightfully your own. The Iron Throne.

For Danny, her main goal was to seize the throne, but the other was to have you survive this war and be an adviser to her. As much as she knew that some families had incestuous tendencies (She was informed about them via Jorah) she broke that cycle when you were born. You were the youngest out of the siblings, thus making her more protective of you.

That’s what made this worse, that you had been hurt because of her mission to grab something to make you both feel more secure.

She had always been the protector, ever since your elder brother struck you, she did all she could to help you through those traumas. To help you feel a little bit safe, even if it meant that he turned his sights on her. It would’ve been worth it, as you would’ve been safe.

Now, here you laid, on the bed with a ghostly white colour to your skin. You looked dead, and maybe you were –

No, she couldn’t think like that, she couldn’t afford to.

You needed to be ok, you had to be. There was no other option; no other way this thing could go, really.

She wouldn’t let it.

“Have you slept yet, my queen?” Tyrion asked as he approached both of you, keeping his eyes on your sister as he spoke. He was clearly worried for her mental health; he knew that she wouldn’t be able to take much more of this. She seemed to just be losing people left and right.

Now it had really gotten personal with you.

You had to be ok, she didn’t care how it happened, you just had to be.

But, first, you had to wake up. You had to open your eyes and prove to the world that you were in fact alive.

 “I’m fine.” She said, though neither in the room believe it. Both could hear the quiver in her voice as she said those false words.

“Y/N might not –”

“Y/N will be fine.” She said, firmly, as if the other option didn’t exist. As said above, she wouldn’t let that version come into existence.

“He might not be.” He warned her, but it fell on death ears.

“He has to be…. He’ll make it, I’m sure of it.” She said, determined to make those words come true.

“As much as I believe in you and your cause, faith can sometimes go misplaced in anything or anyone.” He told her.

That did not get the reaction that he wanted to garner from those words, “Is that a threat?” She asked; as much as she had started to se him as friend, she was still weary of him and whether or not she should let him in.

Still, he was here; no one else had shown up, yet. No one had even asked her that question, yet. But he had. So, that meant something.

“For once, it won’t be.” She said.

The next moment, your hand that she had been holding tighten it’s held a little. It got her attention and stopped the conversation from continuing between the Queen and the Hand of said Queen.

“Are you alright?” Was the first thing your sister asked you as you opened your eyes; you took a moment to survey the room and realise that you were indeed safe and not in any immediate danger.

You then met the slightly worried eyes of your sister; since the day your brother had hit you, she had never fully ceased with that worry in her gaze. She was always mothering you. Hell, she was more of that than a sister at times.

She was mainly that as she wanted you to feel like you could be you. That you could be happy, even if a little. She just wanted you safe.

You were awake sure, but you still weren’t out of the woods, yet.

“What happened?” You asked her with a croaky voice, she passed you a mug of water; one you drank from in a rush, desperate to get yourself back up and ready to go as quickly as you could do.

“I- I, uhm…” She wasn’t sure if you even should know how you ended up like this. She had it all prepared beforehand; her lines rehearsed to a T; but that had all gone out the window the second you had opened your eyes. All she was going on now was instinct, both sisterly and motherly, to make sure that you were ok and see if she could help you in any way.

This was not one of those ways in her book.

“Danny,” She looked into your eyes again, “Please, I just want to know what happened. That’s all.” You told her softly, in an honest tone.

She sighed, knowing that she would only be making things worse if she didn’t tell you.

“Do you need me to fetch the –” Tyrion was about to finish his offer, when Daenerys answered.

“No, I’ll be fine on my own.” Her own voice was soft, she didn’t break eye contact with you. When you heard the door close, Daenerys sat on your bed and grabbed the bandage that the maester had left beforehand.

“Ok.” She said, as she begun to painfully recount what had happened to you.

 “Danny –” You said as you tried to beg your sister to let you go out to try and quell the seemingly endless amount of anarchy reigning outside. She, however, would not budge.

“No, Y/N! For the last time, I’m not letting you go out there, you’re safer here!” You sighed, knowing she was right. But that didn’t mean anything if there were still people dying.

Daenerys secretly hated that part of you, the part that was this selfless; granted, she had it too, just to a much lesser degree. Still, she knew that the fire of a dragon was deadly and rarely could be stopped. She knew that giving you the answer she gave wasn’t helping you; if anything, it was making you more and more impatient and more and more cause to want to go out and fight.

Still, that part of her soon died when the protective part of her overruled that thought.

“You are to stay, Y/N. I need you by my side…. What if you get hurt – what if you – I can’t…I can’t do this alone.” She said, letting her emotions take control now; let her worry be fully known to you. She couldn’t lose the advice you gave her; the way you could read her like a book and vice versa; but, most of all, she couldn’t lose her best friend and only surviving family member she could actually talk and communicate with.

She couldn’t go across the sea and have you not been there, it would feel hollow in doing so. She was waging this war for the both of you, after all. If you died, it would feel like this victory wouldn’t fully be earned.

“Danny,” You said softly as you grabbed her hands in your own, she squeezed them softly, “I…. I’ll stay, if that’s what you want. I’ll stay.” You promised you, even gave her a smile to try and sell it more.

She hugged you tightly, you returned the gesture, “Thank you, little brother.” She said as she then pulled away, planting a kiss on your head, before leaving to try and take back control of her currently burning city.

You let out an attempt of a calming breath as your sister turned the corner before exiting to your chambers. You had indeed done what she had asked, you just weren’t going to stay.

You also hoped that this wouldn’t backfire horribly.

 “How do you know I did that?” You asked Danny as she gently took off your old bandage and replaced it with a new one. Despite not being a maester, she was doing a decent job so far. She hadn’t caused you anymore pain and was quite calm. Externally that was, internally she was worried at making even the slightest mistake and hurting you.

“It was Grey Worm’s best summary of how you got out. No one else saw you; you aren’t as sneaky as you might think you are, sometimes.” She said in a teasing voice that then saddened when she remembered where those actions that got you.

“Oh…”

 The buildings were burning, and the streets were either filled with screaming people or the attackers in the city. You were in the midst of all that, of course; really, you hadn’t fully had a plan set out, mainly it was just go down and fight in any way you could.

You were capable of fighting, just not as well as these people were. You weren’t trained since birth, you weren’t forced to train every day, almost all day.

You were trained for a few hours to around a full day a week before you’d go back to supporting your sister.

So, in short, you were fucked.

You saw one civilian being attacked, and instantly ran over; the attacker swung at you, you ducked and tried to hit him; he, however, dodged and sliced you in the arm.

You sneered as you pulled a dagger and tried once again to attack the person, however, he blocked and punched you.

That was when the blade came down again.

“Why did you do it?” She asked as she wrapped the final new bandage; she did feel a bit stupid having now asked it, as she knew the answer, but she wanted to know your reasoning for it.

“You saved the city your way, I wanted to save it –” You stopped talking as you let out a gasp; Daenerys was set on edge, scared she had done something wrong; however, when your eyes started to show more blood in the corners, she knew it wasn’t her fault.

It was a poison instead.

“Y/N…? Y/N!” She cried out as she held your figure as it started to convulse erratically.

“Maester!” She yelled, hating to leave you, but having to find some help for you.

To make sure that you’d survive.

 The assassin must’ve thought you dead, as they had walked away the next moment. You weren’t, however, gone. But you had failed in your job to protect the woman, her dead and cold eyes stared back at you.

You were bleeding badly; you could almost feel the blood leaving your body. You managed to turn yourself over, only to see smoke still rising from one of the houses. There were still screams, but they were less in mass and fainter; whether that be further away, or you were losing consciousness or that one side was winning.

Only thing was, you didn’t know which one it was.

You turned to your side, placing a hand on the floor, your hand had patches of blood on it dotted around; you placed your second hand, seeing the same thing, only your left one held a lot more blood. That was most likely the hand that was on your now worse wound. You were sure it was probably infected by now.

 “How is he?” Daenerys asked nervously as she paced in the room, the Maester put a rag to your head to try and help with the sweating that had occurred moments after she left, it only made you shiver more however.

“It’s not just poison, my queen,” He told her gravely, “The wound was infected as well from dirt and other objects. Look here,” He pointed to your wound, “Someone had tried to cauterize it; however, they didn’t have much time or a clean instrument to use.” Danny gulped; the odds weren’t exactly in your favour for survival.

She was now allowing herself to panic, this could be your deathbed. This could be it, the moment it all fell apart.

 You fell into a crawl as your wound bled more and more. You groaned as you put your hand that had been scrapping through dirt to it, ignoring what that would do to you and your already agitated wound.

You slowly got back up, stumbling forward towards your palace in an attempt to get back to your room and find a way to patch yourself up without your sister finding you and worrying about you.

That was the last thing you wanted.

Your convulsions had stopped, but your sweating and groaning in pain had not ceased. Daenerys wished there was something she could do. However, in reality, the only thing she could do was hope and pray that the Maester would heal you and this would all be over. She could admonish you and then you both would move on.

Part of her knew, however, that neither of you would be the same after this. No matter what the outcome was. Even thought she hoped for the positive one (as any sister would), she knew that it would hold a lot of questions and doubt in the coming days/months/years until you both would reach your goal.

You reached the door, bloody hand pressing against it, it didn’t take much pressure to open it. Once it did, you pretty much fell inside, letting out another groan as you hit the floor in pain.

Someone reached you, your eyes opened to see Missandei hovering above you worriedly. She was speaking, but those words were lost on you as you felt yourself fading.

When you opened your eyes again to a blurry world, you saw the recognisable clothes of Dany kneeling next to you; you felt the faint touch of her hand as her own words were inaudible to you. But you were sure they were begging you to stay awake and not to leave her.

You closed your eyes one more time. This time not reopening for a while.

 She was outside of the room now, standing outside the door and nervously playing with her fingers. She didn’t have anything to say or do other than to stay silent and wait anxiously for the Maester to walk out of the room.

Finally, they did, but the grim look on their face told Danny all she needed to know.

You were gone.

 Daenerys had cried before over loss; she had cried before over pain. She had never done it over both at the same time, however. This felt like knives stabbing her heart over and over again without pause or an end in sight.

You were gone; her brother and her best friend in the whole world was gone. She was alone now, truly alone; the last of the Targaryen’s and left to carry the burden of being one alone.

She, however, looked out at the view of the city. Of the city you had died for, of the city you had helped her take just like the rest of them.

She let out a breath as she rose from her bed and went out onto the balcony, already missing how you would sometimes rest next to her and talk about your day or your plans for the future.

That would never happen again.

 “Fetch the Maester!” She yelled at anyone who would listen, Missandei was the one who followed through with it and left to get one. She, however, carried your body in her arms and burst into your room, placing your body on the bed.

“Please, Y/N; please, please, please, please. Don’t leave me, not yet. There’s so much we need to do. There’s so much I have to show you.”

 It was an empty promise now. There was, however, one more she could follow through.

That being to take back the kingdoms in your name.

 That fateful day led to a snowball affect: when she left to Winterfell, she was immediately outcasted, having you there would’ve helped calm that, helped her feel less alone; the next was the loss of two of her children, that loss made her fall further away from friends; then, finally, was the death of Missandei, her other best friend and a sister to you both.

It was what made her burn Kings Landing almost entirely to the ground, it was what led to her walking to the throne in a vision she had forgotten about long ago. She did it all in your name; all to make your death mean something.

It ended, however, with a dagger in the heart. As she slipped from this world to whatever came next. Her last thought, however, was of you; when she was an innocent but scared girl, and you were a damaged but happy child.

Those were simpler times, times when you could just be two siblings.

Now, you were both gone; if there was a world after this one, you’d meet there.

She’d make sure of it.

[justphilia]

Mob Psycho Characters Playing Minecraft (Headcanons)

Shigeo

He starts with creative mode, just to get the gist of it, before finally heading into survival but on peaceful. Then he’ll do survival easy mode and just stay on that tier forever, until he feels more confident to up his game a little higher.

Only played because Telepathy club was playing and he heard the word “Mob” and was like; “Did you call me?” and the club goes “nah fam, it Minecraft.” “what’s Minecraft.” Boom he plays.

Most likely to have a farm with a lot of cows

Has a dirt house/villager’s house on the first night and stops at just that.

Not much of a great builder

Takes forever to get diamonds

Dies often, but not too much. Just often enough for him to lose a few good iron pickaxes.

Always goes to bed once it’s night.

Most likely to have a pet cat

He just plays for fun, when he’s bored and stuff. So he doesn’t go as far as to defeating the ender dragon. He’ll travel to the nether though, just for potion making

But he does play a heck more when Teru’s around, or when the Telepathy club invites him.

He awaits for a frog update

Reigen

Jumps into survival hardcore right off the bat after watching one play through

Most likely to have a villager colony and farm

Makes a wooden house with windows and stuff on the first night with a furnace and a crafting table and a bed. The essentials. But he won’t stay in one house often and will move a lot

He can build, but he’s pretty amateur at it, he’s a fast learner though so he could easily replicate houses he see online

He’s the type of guy that never stops mining until he finds diamonds, which means he makes sure he’s at 13-11y in coordinates, has a shit ton of extra pickaxes, and stacks upon stacks of torches. Once he finds them goodies, he heads on home and repeats the cycle

He’ll defeat the ender dragon if he’s bored enough or when someone challenges/pays him to.

Same goes with The Wither

Will skip Minecraft sleep very often and will only go to bed when the phantom starts attacking

Most likely to have many many pet dogs, each one of them have name tags.

When he dies, he gets mad for a few hours, then jumps right back in. He doesn’t die all that often though, so he won’t rage quit.

He gets the minecraft books later on and you can see him reading it under his table time to time

Ritsu

He starts off with easy or normal without much knowledge on the game, probably only played because Shigeo introduced him to or Shou bugged him about it.

He’ll have a farm, but just for resources. Won't have much animals, mostly crops. He’ll live next to a village if there is one.

His first house will also be a dirt house, he’ll improve it overtime and add more levels and decorations. It can get very pretty in the end and he’ll be content to just stay and keep adding more to his house.

Not the best builder, but good enough for people to compliment it. He feels especially proud when Shigeo likes them, so he’s keen on building better and more.

He plans before he mines, calculates how many torches he needs and plans out what he’s exactly looking for, even calculates how many hunger bars each food item will fill before taking it with him.

If he gets really into the game, he’ll defeat the ender dragon, wither and head on into the nether. Not in that order though.

Will sleep if he doesn’t need to do anything

Most likely to have pets, perhaps a cat, or a dog, or a parrot. Only one though.

When he dies, he accepts it and moves on. Though, that would rarely happen.

Recently got into a forced Minecraft marriage with Shou. Is it forced if he enjoyed it though?

Teru

This bitch really just gonna jump right into survival just to flex on Shigeo.

Duh, of course he’ll have a farm. Will probably talk to the animals.

His first house is either borrowed from a villager or built with wood, but it’ll definitely not be a simple ass wooden house. It will be a nice fucking mansion, just watch him, he will. He’ll fight all the mobs he needs to just to built this mansion right off the bat, doesn’t even care if the first night he sleeps roofless.

Really good at building, because he wants to compete with Ritsu for fun and boast about it to Shigeo. Shigeo would just clap and be like “Wow so cool.”

“Thanks, made it myself, I can make one for you.” Shigeo declines, he’s an independent man, which makes Teru a mixture of disappointment and oh-my-god-you’re-adorable???

He doesn't plan when he mines, he just estimates and half ass some stuff before he struts into the cave. Sometimes he gets lost, but that’s perfectly fine.

Will defeat every mob boss and mob ever to show Shigeo he’s very powerful.

Doesn’t sleep, fights the phantom instead. Will sleep if Shigeo asks him to.

Most likely to have a pet cat, but he doesn’t mind dogs.

When he dies, he’s an angry baby and makes up some excuse as to why he’s dead. “I was distracted, didn’t see the lava. Whoops I guess ha ha no big deal.” But it is a big deal, he lost his diamonds, he wants to give it to his boyfriend but he cannot. Because he died.

Has yet to marry Shigeo in Minecraft.

Shou

Plays because he is a gamer. Survival hardcore ftw. He only plays multiplayer with Ritsu these days, never single player because he has been playing Minecraft his whole childhood and it gets boring on his own.

What’s a fucking farm? I take my food from my Minecraft husband.

Sleeps in a cave, but if Ritsu’s done with the house, he joins his bed with him and sleeps under a roof.

But he’s really really good at building, probably the best next to Serizawa. If you gave him the resources and time, he can recreate Seasoning City.

A concerning miner, jumps in with just torches and a pickaxe and somehow still survives (mostly because Ritsu always goes looking for him)

Could probably easily defeat the bosses because he has already done it so many times

Will only sleep when Ritsu is, which is almost all the time.

He owns every kind of animal.

He dies too many times because he really doesn’t mind, it makes Ritsu mad and that’s what keeps him going.

Shou was suffocated in sand.

“S H O U.” Ritsu yells at the boy next to him.

Was the one that proposed to Ritsu, invited everyone to the wedding; including Serizawa and Reigen.

Serizawa

Played while he was still hiding in his home, so he knows everything about the game when he finally played it with Reigen or the kids.

He loves farming, even the animals, it’s oddly calming to take care of something that won’t die unless he hits em.

He always collects resources first before he actually starts building a home, so he always sleeps in a cave or a villager’s house.

After years of experience, he became really good at building, he use to spend time recreating maps from other games. But he says Shou is better than him, the boy disagrees.

Yeah he mines, but he’s wary of dying when he heads into the cave, so he always brings too many torches. 

Makes sure he is very very prepared before defeating bosses

Always sleeps in time, because Reigen said so. Well, because Reigen advised it, what a hypocrite am I right?

Doesn’t have pets, and even if he does, he always make them stay put at one place.

Doesn’t die all that often, almost not at all.

He pretends to not be good at the game when Reigen’s around, he mostly lets the other do what they wanna do because he loves watching his husband play.

“Serizawa! Look, I made the zombie villager back into a villager!” Reigen pointed, Serizawa smiles and nods. He already knew how to do that, but Reigen’s discovery makes it feel he discovered something new himself.

Tome

Bro this woman is so experienced to a point everyone consults her for tips.

She’s building up to find aliens in minecraft, even though they don’t exist, but she’s convinced they’re an easter egg or something.

No, she doesn’t farm. She takes em from the villagers, but she has a few beehives here and there.

She’s only mining to find diamonds as a peace offering to minecraft aliens.

One time she thought the Wither was an alien.

One time, she thought the phantom was an alien.

One time she thought the ghast was an alien.

Has died multiple times because she is careless, but she is never upset about it. Always jumps right back into the game immediately.

Parrots are her pets, because they f l y and d a n c e.

One time she thought the creepers were aliens.

She has this summoning circle made of redstone and torches in case there really are aliens.

She believes in herobrine and sometimes tries to summon him.

She thinks the aliens made the temples in minecraft.

Other Characters

Minegishi has so many bees and flowers and crops it’s almost covering the whole map.

Takenaka plays because it’s very quiet and calming

Shimazaki cannot play. He is blind.

Shou’s old resistance team use to play with him, now they sometimes play together as a trio when Shou is playing with Ritsu.

Mukai and Tsuchi play because Mukai wanted to, she has a lot of armor stands in her house.

Tsubomi does not play, she played once and didn’t enjoy it all that much, but she’s perfectly happy watching her friends play.

Emi roleplays in minecraft.

Mezato doesn’t play, but she likes watching minecraft videos on youtube, mostly the theories.

Everyone in the awakening lab plays, Kurosaki is fantastic at mining because she always knows which way are the mobs and which way are the diamonds. Asahi is an arsonist.

Minori once got invited by Shigeo to play, then she proceeded to buy minecraft and everything in it to impress him. Shigeo only congratulated her once. Contemplating buying the whole of Mojang, but she’s a good girl now so she won’t.

Hoshida plays to impress Tome. Too bad, son, she’s not into you.

[crispyjenkins]

'ullo! Dicky here, what do you think about a song prompt? I give you the song and the ship and you let the song guide you??? Ship: Obikin Song: Help by Hurts Prompt: Aftermath of Satine's death By the way, I love your blog (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

(hello!! heck yeah you can!! oh man i haven’t listened to hurts since devotion came out, it’s so strange to listen to them again, so thank you for the rec ゞ(´ε｀●) i’m so flattered you like my blog (always lovely to find another on the spectrum!), i’m having so much fun with it and all you lovely people. 

is this what you wanted?? because anakin fought my ass the entire time and i hope you like it anyway!) 

Anakin had not seen his master grieve for Qui-Gon. In the whirlwind of the battle, and the funeral, and the celebrations, and then trying to figure out where he fit in a temple he was not raised in, Anakin just... hadn’t noticed Obi-Wan dealing with Qui-Gon’s death after Naboo. 

  It’s only now, watching Obi-Wan return to the Negotiator that Anakin realises that that had been by design. 

  Because Obi-Wan debriefs Cody like it’s nothing, accepts his reprimand from the whole council on holocomm like it doesn’t hurt, and then asks Anakin how the 501st is doing like he hadn’t just held the love of his life as she died in his arms.

  And the thought makes the dragon in Anakin’s chest so unfathomably angry he doesn’t even—

  “Anakin, are you quite alright?”

  “I’m going to throw you out the airlock.”

  Obi-Wan blinks at him with sincere surprise, and that just makes it worse. “I beg your pardon?” he asks calmly, pausing in the hall on the way to his quarters. Anakin technically has to get back to the Resolute, technically has to help sort out this entire mess of a mission, technically has to step up and be a proper general and Jedi and do his job, but Obi-Wan has always been more important than all that anyways. 

  Anakin takes a deep breath to stop himself from yelling, bolstering the Force around himself, because surely Obi-Wan isn’t actually this heartless, isn’t actually this put-together and proper, he can’t be. “Didn’t she mean anything to you?”

  Obi-Wan’s brows twitch before smoothing back into blank indifference. “I surely don’t know what you mean.”

  “Satine, Obi-Wan!” Anakin jerks his hand in the vague direction of the nearest viewport, though it’s only hyperspace rushing by. “How can you just prance around like she wasn’t just murdered right in front of you? Like she meant nothing? You’re the perfect Jedi, I get it, but you can’t just—”

  Obi-Wan grabs his wrist before he can gesture again, grip too tight as his chest jerks. “Do not,” he says, just short of gasping, “presume to know what I’m feeling at this moment, Anakin.”

  Anakin stops from ripping himself free, startled by the way Obi-Wan will not meet his eye. Force, now that Anakin's been forced to pay attention, his master looks awful, skin almost translucent and eyes over-bright, a gauntness to his cheeks that Anakin doesn't remember there being before. The fingers that hold his wrist tremble, and Obi-Wan's whole body leans away from him as if expecting to be struck, as if preparing to run. 

  It's so out of character, this fear, that Anakin forgets everything he planned to say. 

  "Do not... mistake my control for apathy." Obi-Wan slowly releases him like it physically hurts to, and Anakin wishes he understood the expression that he can't quite will back to calm and collected. 

  "Obi-Wan," he starts, but his usual quick-thinking fails him immediately.

  "Just because I do not rage does not mean I am not filled with fury." He takes a step away and clenches his fists instead, and Anakin realises he's never been on the receiving end of Obi-Wan truly angry, not like this. "Have you learned nothing from me, Anakin?"

  And then Anakin's a padawan again, after another fit of temper at another inappropriate time, scuffing his shoe under his master's disappointed gaze. Force, but he always hated upsetting him. 

  "Master, I..." He swallows and has to look away, clenching his jaw.

  "A Jedi cannot be controlled by their emotions, we cannot let our... feelings dictate our actions. I went after Satine against the council's wishes, I let my fear control me, and she paid the price. Do not presume that what you see is all there is to know."

  "So you cannot grieve?" Anakin snaps, rallying his anger like a shield. "You can't even admit if it was your fault?"

  The Force flashes a warning, like it does before blood is spilt, like before everything goes to kriffing hell, and Anakin freezes as Obi-Wan leans into his space with a snarl. "I only appear not to have blood on my hands, because Satine did not bleed."

  Anakin lets him whirl around towards his room, and does not follow.

-

  Only once the watchguard cycles over does Anakin sneak back towards the command quarters, dodging his own men and Obi-Wan's with practiced ease. He resolutely doesn’t think as he goes, because he’ll chicken out if he does, and he knows he can’t leave things the way they had.

  The way he had. Kriff. 

  He keys in the code for the door and tries to ignore the way Obi-Wan’s shields slam up around his mind. His old master sits on his bunk with his back to the wall, shirtless in the warmth of his quarters, and he barely looks up as Anakin shuts the door behind himself.

  He looks him over, the bruising from the fight with Maul that he should have gotten checked out, the way the blanket pools around his waist, and notes with disdain that it doesn’t look like he’s cried even a little bit. 

  Sighing, Anakin toes out of his boots and leaves them next to Obi-Wan’s on the mat by the door, before padding softly the rest of the way into the room. He’s here to help, not antagonise Obi-Wan, so he eases himself onto the floor by the bunk, close enough that Obi-Wan can reach for him if he wishes, but far enough away that he can ignore him instead, if that’s what he needs.

  “Master, I... wanted to apologise.” He shuffles uncomfortably. “You know how my mind gets ahead of me, I didn’t...”

  “I’m too tired to lecture you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly, and Anakin mentally curses.

  “No, that’s not—” Exhaling harshly through his nose, Anakin takes a moment to get his anger back under control before trying again. “I know you don’t let anyone around when you’re hurting, and you sure as hell weren’t going to ask Cody, and I just. Didn’t want you to be alone.”

  The silence that settles over them isn’t quite as heavy as it was before, but it isn’t good either. Anakin had tried telling himself that he’d be alright if Obi-Wan didn’t forgive him, that just saying the words was more important because this wasn’t about him, but that doesn’t stop the hurt.

  Then, so quietly Anakin almost misses it, Obi-Wan says, “I almost left the Order.”

 Sighing, Anakin drops his head back onto the mattress and glares up at the ceiling. “If Satine had asked, I know.”

  “I was going to leave after my trials.” But that was years after his time with Satine, and she hadn’t actually asked him to, had she? “I couldn’t abandon my apprenticeship, I owed Qui-Gon far too much for that, but I... I stayed for you.”

  Anakin’s throat closes like a dam, his body going rigid: he’s heard this story, that Qui-Gon had begged Obi-Wan with his dying breath to train him, that Anakin was a padawan of obligation. This story has passed the lips of every initiate and knight in the Order, whispered where they think Anakin won’t hear. Part of him has known not to expect more of his bond with Obi-Wan, but if Anakin is good at anything, it’s caring so recklessly that there’s nothing left of him by the end.

  “Obi-Wan,” he growls, but Obi-Wan doesn’t give him the chance to continue.

  “I stayed because you needed a family, whatever Qui-Gon asked me be damned,” he says firmly, with more bitterness than Anakin expected. “You were a child, Anakin, I stayed for you, and I do not regret it.”

  Oh. But that... is somehow much, much worse, Anakin decides, watching Obi-Wan’s expression crumble at the edges before he can right it again. It’s worse than thinking himself a last choice, a pet project, a karking final request, because this means... Obi-Wan actually cared, right from the beginning, and Anakin hadn’t seen it. 

  He still finds himself asking, “But Satine...?”

  “Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs, and holds out a hand. Compelled, Anakin takes it and lets Obi-Wan curl them both in his lap. “I loved her, I will always love her, I don’t know if I will ever love anyone as I did Satine, but I would not have traded a life with her for the years I’ve had with you.”

  “Stop,” Anakin chokes out, feeling like his lungs are shrinking in his chest. “Force, you can’t just— Obi-Wan.”

  “I can’t what, padawan? Master Yoda didn’t want me to train you, despite the council’s wishes, and I would have left with you then. I was prepared to train you away from the Temple, and if you had asked us to leave any time after that, I would have.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he finally manages, glad it’s his flesh hand in Obi-Wan’s so he can’t crush it in his grip. 

  Obi-Wan shrugs. “Because you needed to hear it.”

  “This isn’t about me. I came here to comfort you, you can’t just— How are you so calm?”

  “I’m not, my dear Ani.” He squeezes his hand in return, leaning closer. “But you seemed to misunderstand my relationship with Satine. There was a time I would have left the Order for her, there was a time I almost did, but I... would still leave for you, if you asked.” 

  “Holy kark, stop talking.”

  Stop before he says something he regrets, or thinks he can take back, or thinks Anakin can handle when he can’t.

  Obi-Wan blinks at him in surprise, and maybe Anakin is broadcasting, but he doesn't care. He hauls himself up onto the bunk right into Obi-Wan's space, pulling their joined hands against his chest to stare at him helplessly. Obi-Wan stares back as if startled by their closeness, but doesn't push him away. 

  "You can't say things like that," Anakin finally decides on. "You can't leave the Order, the council would fall apart without you, you're the perfect Jedi."

  "I can assure you I'm not."

  "But you are.”

  Obi-Wan lets out a little breath and leans the rest of the way in, setting his foreheads against Anakin’s as if they’ve always done this. “Not with you.”

  Which explains so much, and yet nothing at all.