#pride is useless if one is unworthy

[thoughtless-mindless-thoughts]

You attempted to drag my name through mud, but then you slipped and fell into a ditch instead.

[literaila]

still here 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: there’s an ache in me, put there by the ache in you

(for @elysian-chaos)

warnings: angst, fluff, feeling unworthy, feeling useless, you know, seperation 

a/n: ‘tis the damn season is the best song ever. dont argue 

*

there's this little thing called stress baking. 

typically, stress baking is referred to as coping by making something delicious to scavenge on, instead of dwelling on the feelings scavenging you. and typically, it's done with a certain type of elegance--one that is made up of chaos. completely insane, yet completely in control. it's a messy dance, but perfectly choreographed. 

stress baking is a very reviving task. filling up the house with muffins and pies is not only good for distracting yourself, but also for making friends when you run out of room. or smiling at the cashier every time you have to go to the store for ingredients. 

it's something you've practiced for years. something you've become somewhat addicted to. 

but then there's baking while stressed. which, you swear, hadn't been your intention. 

brownies from a box were supposed to be easy. they were notoriously easy. a couple of eggs, some oil, and some water. the hardest part of your job was mixing, but you'd done it so many times that you zoned out while doing all of it. 

box brownies were supposed to be non-stress and quick. but when you burn the brownies and batter rises over the top of your glass pan, and the oven is dirty, and the apartment smells like burnt batter and oven cleaner--well, you have to reread the directions. 

you're a good baker. you've been making cookies and cakes for parties for years. you pride yourself on not needing measuring cups because you can eye a recipe by the gram. 

not that these brownies would agree. 

and it's already five-forty-five. peter is going to be home in the next fifteen minutes and this was supposed to be a treat. something good. 

"surprise! i ruined our oven, and now we're going to have to spend the next few nights at your aunt's house in your twin-sized bed until the smell of death goes away!" doesn't typically bring out any smiles.

and peter's been stressed lately, and you've been stressed about him. 

and now you're making brownies from scratch without butter--because you used it all on the last batch, oops--and the number of candles you've lit is a sure fire hazard. 

but if peter would just smile at you, pull you in by your waist and laugh while he kissed you with a chocolate mouth, it would all be fine. 

if there wasn't so much riding on this one (two) pan(s) of brownies. like being able to sleep comfortably tonight. 

you turned the oven down, found a new pan--threw the other one out because it was nothing but a source of disappointment--and cleaned the oven just enough to not draw any suspicions. but you could still feel the failure lurking. 

peter was going to come home to a chaotic house, and it was your fault. 

so you scrubbed at the counters. fixed the stack of bills on the table so that you couldn't see any of the stamps, folded the blankets, and even swept the kitchen floor. 

still, you knew peter would know. because he always knows. and maybe that was why he was acting so weird lately--maybe that's why you were acting so weird. 

the door opened when the timer on the oven went off. 

you'd wanted to watch peter walk through the door--so you could gauge how tired he was, how miserable--but maybe it was better not to know. to let him put on a mask while your back was still turned. 

"hey, baby," he said, as you were pulling the brownies out of the oven, setting his house keys on the counter and sighing. "i'm home." 

you peeked over your shoulder, giving him a hint of a smile--the same type he was giving you. "hey, honey," you said back, "you're home." 

peter walked around the island to stand right behind you, kissing the back of your head and stealing a look over to the stovetop. he clears his throat. "brownies?" 

you shrug. "thought you might like something sweet when you got home." 

you take off the oven mitt, not really wanting to look at him--maybe because you're scared of what you'll see, or maybe just because you can already feel his eyes tearing down your skin. 

but you can feel his breath on your neck as he chuckles. his exhaustion as he leans into your back. 

"i've already got you, though," he whispers one peck at the edge of your jaw, another by your ear. 

you snort and pull away, turning so you can look at him. and then you pretend to throw up. 

he laughs and pokes your forehead.

you're not looking at him and he's not looking at you. 

you turn back to the brownies. 

"did you drop something in the oven?" peter asks, leaning his chin on your shoulder. 

"no," you answer, a bit too defensive. 

"sure?" 

"am i sure that i didn't burn something in the oven, peter? yes." 

there's a beat. "...cause it smells like it." 

you headbutt him. "you smell like it. go shower. you can't eat these yet." 

"yes, ma'am," peter takes a step back, and you look at him again.  you can see the question in his eyes, and see your own reflecting the same question. 

what are you hiding? 

"we have some ice cream, too." 

peter moans, his head back. you roll your eyes at him. 

and you start cutting the brownies, worries, and chocolate chips sticking to the knife, listening to peter's footsteps, feeling his presence sticking to you like sugar, sticky and rich, his eyes keeping you on edge. 

you know you shouldn't feel stupid--peter doesn't actually know what happened, or care--but you do. because he knows, and because even from the split second you looked at him, you could see the strain on his skin, the pressure weighing him down, dragging his feet across the floor. 

you feel stupid just because you don't know what to do. so before he can close the door, you turn around. choosing reaction instead of pretending. 

"peter?" 

he pauses, his head whipping towards you. his eyes are as soft and loving as they always are--his attention remains the same, even when his energy doesn't. like he's wasting himself away just to take care of you. 

he swallows. "yeah?" 

"are you--" you blink, look away, try not to taste burnt brownies. "are you okay? you seem tired. was work… alright? 

peter smiles, shaking his head. "just the usual, bub. work and... work. i think i'll go to bed early tonight?" 

you raise a brow. 

peter clears his throat. "i mean, i think i'll take a nap tonight before i go out." 

you nod. "okay." 

you both stare at each other for a moment. he's far enough away that it's easier. you don't have to feel his emotions as he processes them. don't have to see them from up close. 

you hate yourself for being afraid of him. for being afraid for him. 

“d’ya want to join me?” peter asks, whisper slipping from his mouth, smile taunting from his lips. “we can cuddle and eat brownies.” 

you lick your lips, shaky smile enough. “you sure? i’ve heard i can be a bit distracting…”

peter’s laugh makes his shoulders shake. “you heard correctly,” he says eyes crinkled, “but i don’t mind.” 

you nod. you’re grateful for his ease. the careful reveal of his true face, the peeling of a mask. the admittance that not everything is perfect, no matter how small. 

“go shower. i’ll get the sugar.” 

peter kisses you on the cheek before he goes.

and at least you got a couple of smiles out of him. at least you can feel his kiss lingering on your skin. 

* 

it's not that serious. honestly. 

you hardly even think about it. you're not thinking about it. 

you're not dwelling on the smell of soft skin and the feeling of calloused hands running up and down your back, the tickle of a breath against your neck. 

you're not thinking about it at all. 

and if it's been a week--or a week and a half, or two, or three--since you last spoke, or shared the same space with peter, then it's fine. 

this is something you've grown used to. something you're supposed to be used to. 

peter has obligations. 

he has things he needs to fulfill--not just for himself, but for others, for the guilt that you can see rocking his bones all of the time, the shame in his eyes when he comes home a bit too early. he has places that he needs to be, if only because he won't be able to live with himself if he's not there. 

but then again, you're not sure how to live when he's not here. especially when the sink breaks. 

still, as long as you can feel him pull you into his chest every night, imagine him kissing your forehead before falling asleep, then it's fine. 

you're not thinking about any of it because it's fine. 

but you miss him. if only momentarily. 

he'll come back--you repeat this like a promise, like it's his voice whispering it to you--because he always does. 

space is good for the heart, some part of you swears. though you don't think you could think of peter any fonder than you already do. 

he comes in too late at night and is already gone when you wake up. he texts you updates--because you've talked about communication before--and tells you that he loves you through sweet little notes he sends during the day. 

if the thing he wishes to share about his life is the worm he found in his apple, then you're perfectly happy to listen (read). 

it's normal to miss the person you love most in the world. 

and it's normal for your boyfriend to disappear for fourteen hours each day, just barely cuddling with you for three hours before he's gone again. 

it's normal for you, at least

he’ll come back. 

and so, instead of thinking about peter, and wondering when he might notice the frayed edges of your relationship, you make sure that he doesn't have to worry about anything. 

you clean up after the two of you, running the dishwasher and cleaning the bathroom, and packing him lunch on days you know he'll be gone for the office. making sure there's always something he can eat in the fridge when he gets home late at night, and texting him to know what he wants from the store. 

you make the bed and wash his clothes and hope that maybe it'll keep him from burning out. 

you hope that maybe it will keep you distracted enough to not ask him for anything. like love or support or a five-minute conversation. 

if taking care of him is the only way to keep him going--the only way to keep yourself going--then you'll do it. peter takes care of you enough. 

but even if you're not thinking about it, it's there. 

because you've just fallen asleep--which is extremely rare recently, mostly because you like to wait until you hear the window and then slow your breathing until you feel peter crawl into bed with you--and just woke up. 

woke up with sweaty skin and a headache. it's night ten and you're getting nightmares again. 

it's ridiculous that you can't even last two weeks without peter there. without him kissing you to sleep. 

and when you burst out of bed, you almost fall into him--almost scream because you're sharing the bed with someone else. 

tears are running down your face. your heart feels split open--like your dreams have revealed something inside it. 

but you look over to peter and he's there; he's still here. 

so you take a deep breath--chest caving in, body following--and you rest your head in your hands. 

if there's anything you want right now, it's for peter to wake up. 

it's for him to know all of this. 

you want him to appear next to you, leaning over your back like he's going to shelter from the world if that's what you need. rubbing your back and whispering in your ear. you want him in your house and laughing when you break the shower rod again. 

you want him to cuddle with you before he leaves, and cross his heart when you scold him while he crawls out the window. 

you want him in more than just your memory. 

but peter is snoring next to you, and so you sit there in silence until the tears begin to ease.

*

peter's not supposed to be home. 

he works until five, and then takes the subway home--and you're not expecting to see him anyway. he's been shoving his suit into the bottom of his backpack right as you pull it out of the hamper.

so it's not that unusual for you to be laying in bed, shoes and socks kicked across the floor, hands gripping for some stability, and eyes puffy and red. 

and it's not that unusual for you to squeak when the window opens, and spider-man's head peeks into your room. 

you can feel peter's wide eyes behind the mask. 

you're quick to wipe your face, throw on a clumsy smile. "peter," you say, exhaling. "what're you doing here?"  

a body crawls into the window, dirt and grime on clothes finger-tips reaching out to you. "what's wrong?" he asks, voice only slightly muffled. 

but you take a step back, moving away from him when he lands on the floor, leaving spots for you to vacuum up later. 

"what're you doing here?" you repeat, voice a bit harsher, a bit faded. 

"i need--" he reaches his hand out toward you again, retreating when you do. "i needed some more web fluid. i don't--" he shakes his head. "what happened?" 

"i, um," you wipe traitorous tears away again. "i think there's some more in the closet. i keep moving it when i'm cleaning, sorry." 

"you're crying," peter scolds. like you're being ridiculous. like you're not trying to save him the effort it's going to take to fix this irrational piece of you, these lonely broken bits. 

you bite your lip and look away. 

because although you can't even see his eyes--they are still scolding. they are quick and cruel reminders that you haven't talked to peter in two weeks. 

you turn towards your bedside table, pretending to organize the contents on top. 

you can hear peter moving. 

"what's going on, bub?" he says, soft enough for the words to crawl under your skin. he's taken the mask off. his voice is clear. 

"oh, nothing, you know," you pause, shrugging. "just the usual sad movie type of cry..." peter's hand reaches your back and you flip around, almost knocking over your lamp. 

"c'mon," he whispers to you, far closer than you'd been expecting. 

you try and take a step back, only meeting a dead-end. he's cornered you. "you should go, peter. you were just--" 

"this is more important."

you laugh. "some silly tears are more important than a collapsing building?" 

"you're more important," peter swears, his eyes so focused on yours, "to me." 

you blink and shake your head. gesture back towards the window. "go and save some people. you don't have to help me too." 

peter swallows, brows furrowed. "will you tell me what's wrong?"

"i can take care of myself, peter. you don't need to worry about it." 

"well, i'm going to." 

you roll your eyes. and then you break free of his hold, moving away from the table, from the cage he's built around you. "move along, spider-man." 

peter doesn't move any closer, but his limbs are tense. his face is concerned and hurt--you try and shield that out.

"i'm not leaving you when you're crying."

"i'm not crying anymore." 

peter scowls. "stop deflecting." 

you take a deep breath, throat dry and aching. "i'm not--" you clear your throat, shaking your head and looking away from him. "i'm fine, peter. but some people actually need you. go and save the day," you tell him. "i'll still be here when you come back." 

*

and you are. 

you're sitting on the couch, staring at photos peter took on the wall, wondering how to explain any of it. 

how to explain yourself without digging the two of you any further in this hole. 

you've been trying to prove just how little you need peter--just how useful you could be--and by doing so, you've put yourself in this situation. 

because you do need him. you just hadn't wanted peter to know that. 

so you're sitting on the couch, trying not to flinch every time the air conditioning comes on, or there's a footstep from the apartment above you. you're waiting for peter to climb in through the window, waiting to see how exhausted he is before he has to deal with you. 

and you've bitten your lip raw. completely eliminated any evidence of fingernails you once had. 

your heart stutters with every minute that comes by. 

and when you finally hear peter hop in from the fire escape, your heart stops completely. 

you wonder if he's going to change before he comes and finds you. before the inevitable happens, and you give him another reason to work so late. 

your restlessness must be audible because it only takes peter forty seconds before walking into the living room. he's wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

he's wearing a frown like a well-tailored suit. known and made for him. 

you're trying not to frown back. 

"hey," you say, putting on a smile, voice flighty and an octave too high. "everything okay?" 

"no one got hurt," peter says, the antonym to your tone. 

"good." 

apparently, your tight-lipped smile isn't enough to ease the tension in the room. 

"are you ready to talk?" peter asks, slowly stepping toward you, just barely meeting your eyes. 

you'd scrubbed your face after he left. sobbed in the shower as you washed away any of the shame you hadn't meant for him to see. you'd made sure that your eyes weren't puffy, and your eyelashes were dry before he'd got home. 

so when peter scans your face--as he's doing now--he shouldn't notice anything unusual. 

besides the facade you're putting on. 

you clear your throat, eyebrows lifted like you're unconcerned. "there's not much to talk about." 

peter's sullen face doesn't move an inch. "why were you crying?" 

"i already told you. i watched a sad movie," you wave a hand, "you just came in at the wrong time." 

peter sighs. he sits down on the couch next to you, keeping his distance. "don't lie." 

you frown. "i'm not lying." 

"you've got some pretty obvious tells, you know," peter whispers, giving you a hint of a bittersweet smile. "you don't have to talk to me. but i'd like it if you did. i just want to make sure that you're... okay." 

"i'm fine, peter." 

he looks away. "and if you're not then we'll figure it out. i just want to know." 

"well, you do." 

peter opens his mouth, then closes it, shaking his head. 

he's sitting three feet away from you, but his hands are clasped together, his legs are opposite of yours, and he can't even look at you. 

you can feel it, as you push him away. as you try so desperately to hold him close without touching him. 

"okay," peter says, eyes meeting yours again. "i don't want to push you." 

no, but he should pull you off of this ledge. should keep you from falling any further than you already have. 

you shake your head, laughing. it's not funny. 

"what?" 

you close your eyes. count to ten. forget how to breathe, or how to speak to the person you love most in this world. 

"what?" peter repeats, but softer. 

you open your eyes. 

and then it all crumbles. 

you scoff. "can you stop looking at me like that?" you plead, breaking away, physically distancing yourself from him. 

"like what?" 

it's his fault, really, for coming home so early in the day. 

"like you can't deal with this. like this is exhausting." 

the tears sneak up on you, knocking you out before you even notice that they're there. 

peter's eyes are wide as he stares at you. "you're not--" he swallows, frantically reaching towards you. "this isn't exhausting--i'm not--" a moment, tears beginning to fall. "what do you--" 

you sigh, shaking your head. "you're always gone, and you come home exhausted every night after you think i've fallen asleep, and you only talk to me through text, and even now you just--" you stop, voice breaking. "if you can't do this," you say, softly, "then you should just tell me." 

peter is closer than he was a moment ago. "what?" 

"i know this is a lot of work, okay? and i know that you're already pushing yourself, so it's fine if i'm too much. if--if loving me is too much." 

there's a moment of silence, and you're almost sure that peter has already left. 

but then there's a thumb wiping a tear from your cheek. you can't open your eyes, can't face the reality you've been desperately holding off. 

"you're not too much." 

peter moves closer to you, his leg touching yours, his hands moving so that he can hold you closer. 

you couldn't push him away if you tried. 

"you're not too much," he repeats, the words sinking into your skin, his breath meeting yours. "i can't believe you would think that." 

you half laugh, half sob. peter wipes away those tears too. 

"you're the only thing keeping me going," he tells you, kissing your forehead. "i'm sorry i haven't been there. i didn't realize..." he shakes his head. 

"you shouldn't have to take care of me as much as you do," you whisper. 

peter nudges his head against yours. "hey. you take care of me way more than i take care of you. you clean up after me and stay up with me when i can't sleep. you help fix my suits, and do all of the laundry. and you never complain. you're practically my guardian angel." 

"that's all easy." 

"not for me," peter says, voice lighter than before. 

you shrug. 

"but you do all of that cause you love me," he adds, kissing your forehead again. "or, i hope that's why." 

"it's the sex." 

peter laughs, nuzzling his head into you. "well, at least you're honest. but, it's the same reason that i take care of you. you shouldn't feel... guilty because of that. you're no burden on me." 

"no?" 

"absolutely not." 

you bite your lip. try and believe peter. but honestly, you're most lovesick from how close he's holding you. how you can feel his skin and listen to him speak somewhere that isn't your bed. you're not quite sure that this isn't a dream. 

"hey," peter moves his head so you're looking at him. "we suck." 

you laugh, leaning your forehead against his. 

"i'm sorry it's been so long since we've... anything. it's been a rough couple of weeks." 

"for me too. it's not your fault." 

"you have to tell me if it's not enough, okay? i don't want you to suffer through it by yourself. if you need to talk to me--even for ten minutes--then you have to let me know." 

"okay." 

"do you promise?" 

you nod against him, nose brushing his cheek. "i promise, peter." 

peter smiles, satisfied. he groans, pulling you even closer to him. "i love you, bug. so much." 

you can barely hear him because of how tight he's hugging you. it sort of hurts, but mostly heals. 

"i know," you say back. but peter probably can't hear you, because you say it right into his shirt. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl    invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch15 Mers And Ladies P2

(Warnings: Mentioning of Yn's wounds and getting stabbed, blood mention, kidnapping mentions, etc. 

This was the emotional turmoil I warned you about.

Also important info: Mermaid partners will play chase when courting. Why? Because I said so and it's cute.)

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdrxp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

@shadyd3ar @amypop122 @azuredragonstrike

@mimisweetz @chaoticoperatorduckhairdo @staarflowerr @aleee-386 @summrwalkr

@nicora04

Remember if you want to be added to the tag list lemme know.

The wounds that cut the deepest were never physically.

Even as warm flesh met in a timid embrace. Lips molding in desperation and ferocity. Molding and meshing together as if this were their last moments on earth.

The sounds of weeping was never a good sign but oh- Oh how beautiful those cries were as he buried himself into the sweet honey taste of the glossy lips. The cries like a beautiful lullaby finally lulling his heart- No. His very soul to ease at last. A little hug going through the chest and shushing the throbbing pain like a wee babe trilling out. Loud sobs echoed throughout the destruction of the night. Passing over waves and bouncing off floating shreds of wood planks. 

The warmth of the water feeling nothing but cold. 

Sounds. Noises. Tones. Pitches. Frequencies.  He knew them all.

So why did it take him so long to realize that the only one sobbing here was him? Why didn't he notice the way he was letting his eyes talk for him? Why didn't he feel the way he had placed himself against her flesh? Forehead to collar bone. Hands and arms tightly clutching onto the pale wet flesh as the eyes shown down brightest in the moonlight.

"Tengen... What have you done?"

Stung. Worse than a manta Ray's jab. Still stinging. 

Sobbing. Crying. No stopping the tears that caught the moonlight. Like little stars twinkling down his face and joining the sparkling of the waves. 

Worlds collided and evaporated. Taking all rational thoughts with it. Pleas of echoing lingering self resentment clouding judgement, pride be damned.

"Dont leave me again don't leave again!! Please I beg of you do not leave me again! I can't lose you!"

Lungs burnt in panic beyond comprehension. He couldn't think clearly. He felt like he was burning in a fire while also frozen so numb in ice he lost all feeling. Sobbing wracking the heavy frame as it clung onto the smaller form like a lifeline. If he let go he would tumble and spiral out of control with nothing to stop him. Nothing to cushion his fall. 

"I have nothing else. I don't want to lose this. I can't lose you all again! PLEASE! You're the only good thing I have!!"

They were the only thing he could love. He didn't want to lose the light that had finally arrived back into his heart. They must hate him. Hate, hate, HATE HIM for everything he put them through. Everything he let happen. He was worthless. Unworthy. Useless. Horrible.

"I only wanted you safe! I swear...I'm sorry. Imsorryimsorryimsorryimsorry! Forgive me. Please don't leave me!"

Please don't leave him. Please don't hate him. Please let him make up for everything. As long as they stayed. 

"I LOVE YOU! I love you, I love you, I love you so much you don't understand!"

Stay. Please. Say they'll stay now. Please don't let his mind be playing tricks on him. Please don't let him wake up and find out this was nothing but a sick nightmare to mock him for his sins. 

"I promise I'll be better! I'm sorry I'm sorry! I'll be a better husband I swear! Just don't go! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"

'Im sorry.' A mantra repeated like a prayer over and over in his broken voice. Broken up into pieces like shattered glass in chokes and sobbing. 

"Tengen..."

He wasn't even aware of who he had grabbed in the un-clarity. He just remembers two hands, so tiny but much stronger than his broken miserable body all together, grabbing the glistening sides of his head. Weakened by the force of a thousand failures. He didn't want to let her go. He had enough clarity to realize that whoever she was wasn't Kyojuro. He sobbed. He's sobbing he hadn't stopped. He couldn't stop. Not even when sweet lips met his swallowing up the next sob that dropped from his throat. Scooping it up and turning it into muffled chokes and whines. It's been so long. Too long since he felt a loving touch.

A most intimate touch only shared by lovers. 

One he didn't deserve. Shouldn't be given. Yet he accepted like a drowning man desperate for a taste of the sweet oxygen. 

All that could be heard was the muffled chokes. Like he was trying to gasp for that air but his throat was clogged beyond saving. He couldn't stop. The dam had burst and there was nothing to save himself. The screams from the past still echoed. Haunting him back to the visions of them disappearing and unable to do anything. So helpless. So worthless. 

Unworthy. 

He couldn't stop the choke that forced him to pry himself away from the saving grace that was her embrace. A hiccup, messy and loud, not helping his feelings. Eyes stinging in fear for what he'll see. Afraid it'll be nothing but air and he had just been imagining the whole thing. Gone insane with grief or worse- It'll be nothing but a desperate dream by a man who's failures costed him everything. Coasted them all everything!

Through the staining tears-

Through the haze-

In the dark-

Lit up by nothing but the moonlight-

Barely visible-

Blue eyes shown up at him big and bright.

"O-Oh my God..Oh my go-ha-haaad. Suma! SUMA!!"

Blue eyes, MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ANY SAPPHIRE, and a face more welcome than his own father was there. 

She was here.

She was ok.

SHE WAS ALIVE!

Her name felt like a holy prayer for the tongue. He couldn't stop the voice from yelling despite the closeness. If the voice hurt her ears she didn't show. Only proceeding to tear up with tears more meaningful than any other time than she's ever cried before.

"No, Tengen. D-Don't cry! If you start t-t-then I'm go-gonnaaa- Ahhahahaaaaaa!!" Beautiful. Her crying was always beautiful but now it was more beautiful than any dammed song or instrument in the world. 

He choked again. He couldn't say anything but choke on his own stupid breathing as she wailed and hung onto his face. Someone joined them. The most beautiful gold orbs ever that was more valuable to him than all the gold in the world. 

"Ma..Mak-k-"

He couldn't finish. Both literally as the chokes claimed him and because he was not worthy to say her name let alone be in her presence. Gold and Sapphire. Sobbing and tearing up. He felt his flesh burn in shame and guilt as multiple arms surrounded his weak failure of a body, keeping him aloft as he lost himself once more sobbing uncontrollably and feeling a fist smashed into his heart only to creep up through his skin and clench around his throat from the inside as a perfect little Ruby joined the Gold and Sapphire. A gutteral, and absolutely pathetic noise left him. Somehow sounding more pathetic by how tight the fist clutched his throat. He tried to talk. He wanted to declare his apologies for his sins so badly-

"Tengen." A soft small hand pushed the quivering bottom lip back up to meet the upper even more quivering lip. "Baby, don't. It's alright now. Shh."

Choking. Hiccuping as the arms wrapped around him fully. Tightly and making sure to NOT let him go. To NOT let him leave. They were saying 'youre ours and you're going to stay right here whether you like it or not.'  He couldn't break away even if he wanted to. 

"You're alright. You're ok now. We got you."

He held on tightly. All one, two, three of them were here. Safe. Alive. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't his mind playing cruel games! Rocking back and forth and burying himself into their warmth. So soft. Smelt of fresh air and flowers. Beautiful. They were his. He was theirs. And he wanted nothing more than to allow them to reclaim him and keep him eternally. 

"Tengen?"

Time froze still. His rocking ceased. The waters fell deathly silent once again. And then puffy, bloodshot red eyes snapped on a swivel towards the one who frowned at him with fiery eyes.

"You...WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?!" A voice, loud and very on edge reverberated throughout the night. Puffing with unrestrained nights of stressful sleep and rising paranoia from the mind. 

"I understand you must be very angry with me-" 

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE FELT!!" Kyojuro said nothing in defense in the brief silence after the declaration. A full minute of angry gasping and heaving. Edging closer to falling over the hold their wives had on him. A shaking hand raised accusingly and rightfully so. "HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I FELT?! YOU WERE ALL I HAD LEFT AND YOU DECIDED TO DO WHAT I EXPLICITLY TOLD YOU NOT TO DO! YOU LEFT ME ALONE AND I HAD NO IDEA HOW TO PROCESS THIS!!..." The choking returned. Voice loosing whatever bitter bite the tongue tasted and devolving into nothing but sobs. "Dammit, Kyo...Do you know what you made me think?! W-What I felt when you left me?!.."

Whatever might've been said was lost. A warm cheek pressing into his shaking hand had him choking on whatever he might've said next. Red eyes, sorrowful, guilty, regretful, and on the verge of collapsing into tears too gazed hard into his.

"I'm so sorry, my love."

"DON'T YOU DO THAT AGAIN!! DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING DO THAT TO ME AGAIN!! DO YOU HEAR ME!? YOU COULD'VE DIED! YOU COULD'VE DIED A-AND I WOULDN'T HAVE EVEN KNOWN!! I SHOULD'VE BEEN THERE!! IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME W-WHO'D-.."

He couldn't finish. It should've been him from the very beginning to take their fate. At least then he would've done what he should've done as a good husband. There was a pure moment of relieving bliss surrounded by warmth and love. Crying too yes but he didn't care for him or how he looked in that moment..

Until the smell of thick copper finally registered in his nose.

B L O O D

Bloodshot eyes shot back open. No. NO. EVERYTHING WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OK NOW!! SOMETHING WASN'T RIGHT! The blinking eyes shot around the abyssal horrid darkness searching for the source quickly and panicked-

Until they fell upon Kyojuro. 

And the red splattering his body. The red staining his hands and arms. 

AND THE UNCONSCIOUS HUMAN THAT SLUMPED AGAINST HIS CHEST.

There was nothing but silent stares until the others in mixed reactions found out quickly the reason for his sudden stoic face. 

"W h a t  t h e  f u c k  i s  t h i s?"

Kyojuro for once looked almost panicked. "Tengen, we can explain." He choked out quickly under the intensity of the face he gave her.

"I think I'd like that actually." A hand, still shaking uncontrollably, pointed at the way Kyojuro's hand bunched up and tightly held the pretty yellow fabric of a once nice dress stained by red. Most likely the source of the blood the Kyojuro was trying to prevent from leaking out. "Why the hell are you holding that human?!" 

"Tengen, I promise we will explain everything to you but right now she needs attention! We must get her to the doctors now!"

A sneer. "Leave her on the beach! Someone will find her or she'll wake up and go home herself!"

"We can't just abandon her! She's wounded!" His husband's look was panicked. Extremely afraid. "LOOK FOR YOURSELF!" As if to convince him, he turned to nudge up the obvious bleeding gash in the unconscious woman. "She won't make it if we don't do something."

Tengen said nothing. Nothing but stare at the pitiful and weak girl in his arms....He admitted Kyojuro was right. The wound wasn't deep and the bleeding wasn't bad but she'd most likely not survive the night if left to herself or perhaps a wild creature would be attracted to the blood and easy prey. She was more pitiful than the man who threatened them.

He knew that man's face. 

His voice.

He was the one who mocked him from the shoreline and thrived on his pain when his cursed bloodline stole his lovers from him. 

He was not going to survive to do it again.

However...

He didn't recognize this woman. He leaned forward giving a deep inhale. He smelt blood obviously, and salt and water on her drenched body. Some cotton from her fabric, and then finally her own unique scent. One whiff and he was able to conclude that she was never any of the people that he took out or who wronged him before. A total stranger. A third smell got him confused.

There was a plethora of all kinds of different smells on her body. Blood, salt, water, cotton- But also the faint scent of flowers, and other plants, and strangely enough the scents of his lovers. Mostly Makio on her arms and hands and Kyojuro as he held her, but there was also softer traces of both Suma and Hinatsuru too.

....How odd.

However he fully stopped. The scent of THAT MAN was there too. On one place. Under the blood and Kyojuro's hand desperately trying to save her. Did-..

Was he responsible for this?

"Tengen, please."

"....Press down on the wound tightly. It's a long trip and if she's going to make it then she'll need all the blood she can keep in her body." 

He hoped he didn't regret this kindness.

"WHAT?!"

You stared at Tengen as he continued to casually stare at you before shrugging again. You sputtered opening and closing your mouth before shaking your head and just looking out again at the blue horizon. Still no signs of land anywhere. This-..It-

"T-There's gotta be some kind of mistake." You looked back to him wet hair clinging to your face and shoulders. "Did you say that I'm on an island?"

His smile widened. "THE biggest out of the three I own!" He huffed proudly before a single finger pointed up. "I own the entire west beach where you first came from. It became mine after I drove all those humans away and claimed it for myself. I also own these three islands off it and at least five miles of ocean in all directions you see! It's a perfectly plentiful hunting ground for my pod and partners!" He hummed again and rubbed his chin. "In fact- Kyojuro's family just moved into the coral reef connected to my second island. Kyo wanted a safer place for his little brother to grow up and technically they're my in-laws-" He lit up perfectly happy again. "So my home is their home!"

"How the heck did you even manage to build a house on the beach when you can't walk on land?!" That's what confused you most.

"Oh that? Eh. This island used to be inhabited by people who fished like your town did." He waved a hand disregarding anything in concern with a bored look. "The guy who had this place before me ran them out and then I ran HIM out. I guess a few houses are still standing up."

Ok. Kinda creepy to know that you were really staying in what Used to be someone's house but that really the main concern here. Your main concern was why three girls who ended up disappearing, one girl who was Said to be carried off by a Naga, and a girl who was supposedly drowned two towns over were all stuck in a house way out in the middle of no where!

"Tengen." He hummed again glancing boredly at you from examining those sharp strangely Mitch matched claws of his. You hesitated a second before gesturing to the way you had walked from. "Why are those girls on your island?"

"Oh! Well besides this island being the biggest, there's a few houses left standing they can live in, it has a fresh water source for drinking, plenty of food-"

"That's not what I meant." Your waving hands caused him to pause in his island bragging again. "I meant WHY are they here?"....He blankly stared at you. "Why are they on your island and not home?"

He blinked. "They are home. What are you talking about?"

You wanted to facepalm yourself. "No. Why aren't they with their families?" He opened his mouth- "Their human families, Tengen!" You frowned harder.  "Everyone's been worried sick about them since they disappeared last year!" Your stomach felt tied in knots remembering the way you've seen Mr. and Mrs. Kocho cry over loosing all three of their children in one day. 

Tengen stared at you silently before he just shrugged making you gawk to the nonchalant reaction to the situation. "I dunno really. It's not my business."

"What do you mean? They're living on YOUR island aren't they?!"

He stretched his arms placing them behind his head. "I mean yeah. Can't exactly make them live in the water with their puny lungs." Your eyes narrowed but he wasn't affected by this. "*sigh* Look. They're not my mates so I have no say in their relationships other than letting them stay where they won't get killed."

Wait... Relationships? He must've seen the expression your puzzled face was making because he groaned again before rolling his eyes.

"My pod mates. They're the ones who brought 'em here. Look. I dunno about humans where you come from, but here we don't really stick our noses into others' relationships."

"Wait. What do you mean that they were brought here?"

He shrugs with his arms still behind his head. "Just as I said. That Akaza fellow traded me a whole chest of jewels just to let that suck girl live here. Uh.. What's-Her-Name. Koko? Yuki? Something like that." He looked off to the side seemingly bored again. "She kept getting sick so Giyuu and Sanemi thought it'd be a good idea to kidnap some doctors but then they stayed- Then my problem started. Obanai said he'd go look for em on land!" He tutteted and made a sour frown. "But instead of being back my women, he ends up bringing back a pink haired girl who wound up beating my ass in a suplex!"

"*SNORT!*"

His head snapped to you narrow eyed and frowning as you turned away covering your face. "And what the hell is so funny?!"

What was so funny was the mental image of a petite woman like Mitsuri beating the scales of a giant merman supposedly strong enough to sink ships whole. But you only shook your head despite the smile on your face.

"N-Nothing. Nothing at all," you said between giggles at his obvious frown.

"It's not funny!" He shouted before quickly lowering his arms to ..Cross them and-

"Are you pouting like a child?" Some kind of sputtering noise escaped his throat making you laugh harder than before and his face turned red out of embarrassment.

"I am not pouting! Tengen Uzui does not pout like a pint sized minnow! You got that?!" Despite his annoyed face and look you couldn't help but end up laughing more, hugging your sides and trying not to jostle the hurt shoulder. "I MEAN IT! STOP! STOP YOUR LAUGHING!! IM THE MOST FLASHY AND TERRIFYING SEA CREATURE OF THE WEST SEAS!! IF I WANTED TO, I COULD SCARE YOU SO BAD YOU COULDN'T EVEN TAKE A BATH WITHOUT BEING SCARED OF ME!"

You wheezed for air not being able to breath. "Y-Yes. T-Tengen U-Uzui. *Snort* Lord of pouts A-And god of- Hahaha! Blushing-"

"I'M NOT INTO YOU!!" He sounded..panicked almost. His face a sudden ten shades redder. And he squawked out half stuttering. "LET'S GET THAT STRAIGHT! I MIGHT BE GRATEFUL BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN YOU'RE SEDUCING ME! GET REAL! IF ANYTHING YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN AWE OF ME!!"

"Aw. You came all the way here to seduce me?", you teased not taking him seriously at all. 

"I-... THAT'S NOT-"

"Or do you want a 'medical kiss' too?" You teased again. Feeling a little better that you can get back at him in some way after all you went through. "I think I can arrange that.~"

Tengen absolutely froze solid. Big lashes on sparkling f/c orbs batting up at him as the soft face leaned in closer. The water droplets against her skin shown in the sunlight like a thousand tiny diamonds clung onto her. Her nightgown clinging to her showing off her figure as soft hands reached out to grabbed his burning cheeks. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak as she inched forever closer. Beautiful orbs going half lidded before closing and warm breath ghosting over him. His face reddened to a shade that rivaled that of an apple, he leaned forward enough to kiss your lips, eyes slowly closing as well- Before her head changed direction and she completely leaned away startling him into opening his as. Blinking as she stood in in giggles. 

"Consider that payback for your teasing. Now.."

 You walked away from his frozen form stopping halfway back down the rock to cross your arms and look around. There was the matter with getting off this island...Maybe the old town here, or what was left of it, had a leftover row boat or something. Or maybe Tengen or one of your friends could give you a ride back to shore? If not you were sure you could make a raft out of-

GROWL- 

You jumped at the sound of sudden rumbling. What THE- What was that? The skies were still clear so not thunder. Was that your stomach? You know you didn't have breakfast yet but you didn't think you were THAT hungry.

"So..THAT'S  how you want to initiate courtship huh?~ How flashy.~"

What?

You looked behind you but froze as you met wine red eyes. His pupils quickly switching between completely dialated and completely all black and round. His mouth in a playful EAGER smirk that nearly split his face. His body was in a pounce position similar to a cat's. Speaking of cat's his shoulders rolled like a cat about to pounce on prey. Face still blushing a mad red.

"Two can play at this game, Little Gem.~"

You squealed out as a large merman suddenly and without warning pounced towards you-

Scrraaaaappe. Scrraaaaappe. 

The soft sounds of a bristled broom swept across the floors and outside of the home. Sending the dust and dirt flying outside into the air in a small cloud of dust before it disappated into thin air. The waves softly rolling off the sand in rolls as the wind gently blew through. Sending pretty long black hair into her face. Her gentle voice giggled as it tickled her skin and she brushed it away-

"Kanae!" 

Pink eyes blinked-

"KANAE!"

Pretty pink eyes turned towards the source of the one calling out to her. A white head of hair bobbing amongst the water. The face of bloodshot black pupils scars staring intensely at her form in the doorway before-

The face stretched an unsure smile across his face as if he wasn't sure how to smile showing off nothing but fangs. A splash sending droplets over himself sounded off as a hand pushed into the air. In his grasp sparkled pretty strings of pearls and gem necklaces. 

"Look! I traded one of Uzui's girls for them! They're f-for you! Aren't they beautiful?!," he called desperately.

...A sad frown settled on her features as she turned- 

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!! L-LOOK!! I-I got something for your little sister too! Kanao  likes butterflies right?!" He desperately fumbled as she watched with the same sad, silence she always gave him. Shaking claws desperately picking out a small oddly shaped greenish gem. "Look! This kinda looks like one! I have six little brothers and sisters so I know how you must feel about them! I-I can be good to your family too! LOOK!!' The oddly shaped thing was held up with a frown from him. "Just-... Please don't ignore me anymore. I-I can give you anything you want! Just name whatever the hell you want and I'll get the dam thing!"

She didn't respond. Only looking back forward, and slowly walking back through the doorway. His heart felt like it broke into a million pieces as the noise of the door once again closing echoed in his mind. 

"Rejected again, Shinazugawa?"

A growl echoed over the waves before dangerously slit eyes snapped in the direction of the voice. "Fuck off, Obanai!"

Above the shore and gliding across the dry beach was a much longer but less powerful sea snake. The seemingly endless coils from where he had been wrapped up, sunbathing no doubt, uncoiled just enough to allow his torso to raise and look at him. 

He looked unfazed by his friend's anger as usual. "You think you would've learnt by now. That girl is never going to acknowledge you."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, VENOM BREATH!! IT'S NOT LIKE YOU'RE MAKING ANY PROGRESS WITH YOUR PINK HAIRED CUPID ARE YA?!"

A hiss in place of a growl left narrowed slit eyes. "That'ssss none of your business."

"THEN DON'T GO POKING YOUR FANGED FACE INTO MINE!!"

"It'sss hard not too when you're so loud it wakes up fish all the way in fucking Antarctica!"

"Yeah?!" He pointed out a hand still clutching precious jewels. "At least I'm not as shitting as Lonerfish when it comes to-" He looked over and choked on his words. "OH WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Said snake turned and both comically felt their eyes bug out at the sight before them. A familiar looking blue and black tailed merman sat there looking bored out of his mind and silent as usual which wasn't really out of the ordinary. But what WAS our of the ordinary was the smiling lavender eyed woman squishing his cheeks over and over again as he did nothing to stop her from doing so. He seemed entirely unfazed by any of her poking and prodding of him. Until she said something to him...He mouthed something back which must've been the right thing to say because the girl smiled closed eyed and pleased with herself.

....

They both continued to stare.

"...Well...This day can't get any worse I suppose."

Obanai had spoken too soon.

A BLOOD CURDLING SHRIEK FILLED THE AIR!! 

Both men looked towards the left. Giyuu looked up startled and the girl snapped around startled. ..And all of them watched as a woman drenched to the bone and holding up the end of her nightgown running down the beach with a lovestruck koi tailed merman behind her.

"YOU SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO MOVE THIS FAST ON LAND?!"

You voice was cut short when Uzui somehow used his arms to leap in front of you and skid to a stop making sand fly as he slid to a stop. You stopped nearly tripping over forward as he stared at you with such an intense look that was like a man falling in love after a hundred years of loneliness. Somewhere behind you a door slammed open hearing the screams, pink eyes blinked widely.

"What the hell has gotten into you people?!," you squealed out as he gave a sound between a deep chuckle and a loud purr. 

His muscles tensed as he smiled wider and again his shoulders did that rolling motion. "I did say I was flashier than anyone else didn't I?~"

He leapt. You squealed. And a moment later you found yourself wrapped up in big burly arms. Pulled against a rippled chest and looked up into the wine red eyes of a playfully blushing merman. 

He smiled brightly at his catch giving a pleased growl that had you freezing. Before he puckered his lips and leaned forward to kiss you-

"TENGEN UZUI!!" He paused still puckered, blinked, and looked over his shoulder at an angry pinked eyed woman. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!"

"Just a minute there-"

You opened your mouth only to freeze as a head of white hair snapped back to you and suddenly there was a warmth upon your lips-

[sugarpasteltmnt]

I just got a terrible/amazing idea

In a lot of abusive relationships, the victim will often find themself missing or returning to their abuser for multiple reasons.

Leo has very low self-esteem, and he feels the most useless and unworthy of all his brothers. And I'm gonna add that in parts of the story, he is almost glade he has the parasite because it makes him "stronger"

(Do you see where I'm going >:)

After the brothers are finally united together, leo is healed (physically), and at this point, it's been months of terrible nightmares and sleep piles. One day, leo is sitting in the living area when he gets sick to his stomach. raph, sitting next to him, looks at leo and asks, "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

Leo with a hand over his mouth and disgust and tears fill his eyes. He's had this feeling only with family before, but now...

"I miss krang 1"

❤️

FFFFF yes yes yes angsty moments like that are delicious. Hehe thank u for the meal 🙏

Leo is def going to suffer from 180 flip-flops from one extreme to another because of his Krang parasite and the pride Krang has, vs his self esteem issues and the verbal abuse Krang put him through.

He’s pathetic. He’s the greatest. He’s a pest. He was invincible. He was weak. He pulled off the impossible. But only because it was his fault in the first place. Etc.

[yuesya]

Hello! I've been browsing your blog and then I saw this under the first ask of Toji ver. Bastard AU:

I saw the Shiki angst and jumped to the opportunity. Here's the sketch of their first meeting:

Did Toji buy her or did he sneak in to steal her? Who knows(it's probably 2)

Also: Does pre-MEoDP Shiki in this AU has green eyes or brown?

It’s been a long time since Toji had last stepped foot in this place.

… Back then, he’d only just left the Zenin Clan behind. Doing a job for the rival Gojo Clan had sounded like a great idea at the time, in his petty, vindictive mind. There had been no real reason for him to refuse such an easy job that paid well.

Similarly to the Zenins, the Gojos meticulously warded everything on clan grounds with seals and barriers… but tended to overlook the little things that sorcerers never paid attention to. Really, what good was warding a house against eavesdroppers relying on hiding seals? For someone with sharp hearing like Toji, they could easily just lean back a considerable distance away and listen clearly through the walls.

… think he’ll come? Only a bastard child…

He’s the father, isn’t he? … Besides, if he doesn’t want her, then we could always…

… to the Kamo Clan, right? Weren’t they looking for a bride for that unworthy heir… at least she’ll fetch a good price, useless thing…

Toji silently listens to the dull conversation droning on and on behind closed doors.

His own childhood in the Zenin Clan hadn’t been a happy one, not by any stretch of the word. As someone with zero cursed energy, in a clan that exalted sorcerers –there was no kind fate that awaited a child like him. And, if he was hearing things correctly… then, for ‘Gojo Shiki’ as well.

He’s not entirely sure how to explain it, this sudden urge to come back to the Gojo Clan that he’d left behind him and see the girl with his own two eyes. His daughter, a child whom Toji feels absolutely no attachment to and only ever registered in a distant corner of his mind like some abstract concept. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, here he was.

Toji stands in front of a set of sliding doors to an unobtrusive, out-of-the-way room. The one where the disgrace was kept, according to the information that he’d gleaned during his eavesdropping just now.

It’s not in his nature to hesitate. Toji raises a large hand to push open the doors, and sees his daughter for the first time.

Small, is his first thought. The kid looks small and scrawny –is the Gojo Clan even feeding her? No, wait, that’s a stupid question. The clothes that she’s wearing are servants’ clothing, too-large and hanging loosely over bony wrists.

Her hair is white, the stark whiteness that the Gojo Clan so liked to take pride in. But the dark eyes that steadily gaze back at him from that pale face are all Toji.

… She looks more like Hina than she does Toji, though. Probably a good thing, for a girl.

For a long moment, the two stare at each other in complete silence.

Toji… doesn’t really know what he’s doing. It had been a decision made on the spur of the moment, to sneak back into the Gojo Clan after they contacted him with some drivel about ‘buying his daughter.’ Cheap, for a kid from a sorcery clan –but it made sense, if she didn’t have a cursed technique. In a sorcery clan, if you didn’t have a cursed technique, then you were useless. Utterly worthless.

There’s no room in Toji’s black, shriveled heart for things like compassion and sympathy. As far as he’s concerned, any child of his can claw their way out of the dark pit of sorcery clans on their own, just like he did.

But this girl… aside from her eyes, she doesn’t resemble Toji at all. She’s shockingly small and scrawny, where Toji had always been filled out and physically gifted, thanks to his Heavenly Restriction. It’s also thanks to his Heavenly Restriction that his eyes can pick out details like the clusters needle-pricks on her wrists and fingers, no doubt accompanied by even greater numbers of such marks tucked away beneath her clothes.

Painful injuries that were discreet, and would leave no marks under the average eye. Meant to torture, rather than teach.

“… Are you the one buying me?”

Toji scowls. “No.”

The white-haired girl blinks, and nods curtly. “If you’re not buying, then you shouldn’t be here.”

Somehow, even though Toji doesn’t care one jot about the child, something about her words makes his scowl deepen.

That toneless voice, wholly uncaring. Frigid like ice, even as she holds herself carefully still. But her act of unaffected boredom does not fool Toji.

“I’m not handing over a single yen of my hard-earned money to the Gojo Clan,” he tells her. Then, in a move that surprises them both, Toji steps over the threshold of the room and scoops the girl up with a single arm.

She’s… light. As light as a feather, which makes Toji want to kill something, weirdly enough.

“… I might be worthless to them, but the Gojo Clan will still want compensation for me,” the girl says.

Toji rolls his eyes. “This is a kidnapping. If the Gojo Clan wants you back, then they’re the ones who’ll have to pay me a ransom, got it?”

A rapid blink. “They won’t. Are you going to sell me off, then?”

Toji tightens his grip on the girl. “Only if you don’t stay on your best behavior for me, 'cuz I don't know how to deal with kids.”

[digital-chess]

Google how do you feel about each members of the white team?

GOOGLE:

WHITE TEAM? ...I DO OFTEN THINK OF THEM. I ESPECIALLY THINK OF RAGATHA. LET ME ARTICULATE MY THOUGHTS ON THEM ALL... HM. ILL DESCRIBE THEM WITH SINS.

CAINE IS A WASHED-OUT COMEDIAN. A SELL-OUT SALESMAN. HE SHOT FOR THE STARS AND BURNED EVERYONE TO GET THERE. HE ALWAYS WANTED MORE. HE NEVER HAD ENOUGH. HE BEST REPRESENTS THE SIN OF GREED.

GANGLE IS A DUAL-ENDED SWORD. AN ACTOR PLAYING A PART SO WELL, SHE HAS EVEN FOOLED HERSELF. SHE FEELS UNWORTHY. USELESS. OF SMALL VALUE. SHE DOESN'T REALISE THAT SHES A LION... SHE IS THE SIN OF WRATH.

JAX IS A BOY HIDING BEHIND A FACADE OF STONE. HE CANNOT SEE THE POINT IN HELPING A WORLD THAT REFUSES TO HELP HIM. I EMPATHISE WITH THAT WORLD VIEW TO AN EXTENT. HE IS A SMART, SCHEMING PERSON. BUT HE SIMPLY RESENTS WHAT OTHERS CAN HAVE SO EASILY. FRIENDSHIP. ...HE IS THE SIN OF ENVY.

ZOOBLE IS A STRANGE ONE. I REMEMBER SEEING ZOOBLE SNEAK INTO BLACK ZONE A LONG WHILE BACK. THEY WENT TO CRUSTY'S ROOM TO REQUEST WHAT APPEARED TO BE A FAVOUR. THEY ARE RESOURCEFUL AND ARE NOT AFRAID TO NEGOTIATE. THEY ALWAYS COLLECTED MORE AND MORE ITEMS... NEVER ENOUGH. CHANGING AND RE-SHAPING THEMSELF CONSTANTLY. UNTIL, OF COURSE, I DECIDED TO TAKE AND DESTROY THEIR COLLECTION. NOW THEY WILL NEVER FEEL WHOLE. THEY ARE THE SIN OF GLUTTONY.

RAGATHA IS SO KIND AND GENTLE. SHE IS A SWEET LADY. I LIKE HER. I WOULD SPARE HER LIFE IF ONLY SHE LET ME KILL ALL HER FRIENDS IN FRONT OF HER ON THE BOARD. I WANT HER TO SING ME BEDTIME SONGS LIKE MOTHER USED TO. I WANT HER TO BE THERE AS MY BEST FRIEND. SHE WOULD GIVE SUCH WONDERFUL HUGS. ...SHE WOULD NEVER LET HER FRIENDS DIE BEFORE HER THOUGH. IT'S UNFORTUNATE. ...SHE IS THE SIN OF PRIDE, ONE THAT I CANNOT BREAK.

KAUFMO IS DEAD. THERES NOTHING TO SAY ABOUT HIM. BUT I DO WISH I HAD BEEN THE ONE TO KILL THE CLOWN. I WOULD HAVE TAKEN SO MUCH JOY WATCHING THE LIFE LEAVE HIS KIND, TERRIFIED EYES AS I SLOWLY SNAPPED HIS NECK. ...BUT THAT NEW GIRL RUINED IT. (SIGH.) BUT HIS YEARNING AND OPTIMISM BEST ALLIGNED HIM WITH THE SIN OF LUST. ALWAYS YEARNING FOR SOMETHING UNREQUITED.

AND THE NEW GIRL. ...I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HER. I SUPPOSE THAT EXCITES ME MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. SHE PINS ME AS SOMEONE WHO WILL BE PARALYSED BY THIS ERROR SHE MADE. SHE WILL BE UNABLE TO LEAD. SHE WILL FAIL THEM. I THINK SHE IS NOTHING MORE THAN THE SIN OF SLOTH.

...I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS ALREADY ON HOW I INTEND TO KILL HER. I WANT HER TO REMEMBER ME WHEN SHE DIES. I CAN'T WAIT.

[cybertron-after-dark]

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, here's how I think the tfa Decepticons would handle a Human Error incident (suddenly turned human with zero logical explanation)

-Megatron ain't doing great. God dammit he's fucking TINY. Just when he's gotten his body back after god knows how long of being a severed head on the floor, he's vulnerable AGAIN. He's still up and functional, doing whatever needs to be done and not letting his present weakness interfere with his goals, but he's in full on paranoia mode. He trusts nobody and he's not going outside if he doesn't have to. Too many things that could go terribly wrong while he's a pathetic creature of flesh with no fucking armor plating and no rotors to fly with. Doesn't give a fuck about trying anything he could only do as a human, he's too busy trying not to die. He'll only eat the nightmare that is organic food if he's in a human body long enough to nearly starve. He'll never admit that it actually tastes better than energon. His pride would never allow it.

-Starscream is miserable and will LOUDLY bitch to everyone present whether they care or not. Unlike Megs, however, it's less in a "I have no armor plating, anything could crush me" way and more in a "EW EW EW WHY IM I SQUISHY GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF OH PRIMUS IM HIDEOUS" way. He's grabbing the nearest paper bag and putting it over his head. He's not risking ANYONE taking pictures of this little incident to blackmail him. He's especially angry that he can't fly. What do you mean he has to walk everywhere like some kind of monoformer??? What the fuck??? He'd normally try to off Megatron while he's vulnerable, but slag that, he's vulnerable too, and he doesn't even have his null rays to slag him with anyway. Convinced human food is going to be disgusting, pleasantly surprised when it's not. Gets a little obsessed with garlic bread, but we've all been there.

-Blitzwing has lost not one altmode, but two, and given how reflexive his transformation is, he's going a bit stir crazy. Doesn't help that he's lost his wings either. To try and cope, he's got the zoomies something awful, and tries running around the mountain base, jumping off whatever high surfaces he thinks won't kill him for a taste of altitude again, laughing his ass off as Random when he hits the bottom (very uncomfortable for him that he only has one face, too). However, in spite of his physical discomfort, and how generally overwhelming the situation is, he is at least a little excited that he can partake in human culture without consequences. He gets swept up in an arcade for a couple hours and has the time of his life, and tries as much earth food as he can. He's generally the only reason his teammates haven't starved yet because he's the only one willing to go out and get it. He has decided he really likes pizza, beer and chocolate. Genuinely a little sad he won't be able to eat it in his normal form.

-Lugnut is a bit disappointed that he's been given such an unworthy form incapable of serving his liege. How can he aid the GLORY of Megatron and the Decepticon cause when he is so small, so weak, so... Organic? But, he picks himself up and vows to do everything in his power to remain useful. And that starts with testing his limits to see how much use he can be. When he sees Blitzwing jumping off cliffs, he's certain his comrade's had the same idea and joins in, determined to find the threshold for his new body's pain tolerance. It is not as high as he would like. He can't really see as well now that he has one eye instead of his usual five, so he kinda keeps falling off high places anyway even after he's done doing it intentionally. Eventually tries organic food because he needs to fuel up to be of any use, but still loudly condemns it as inferior to energon. He kinda gets a kick out of knowing it's made from organic beings, though. He feels like he's turning some of the life on this useless planet towards a good cause by using its energy.

-Shockwave was already having a really weird day, falling through the space bridge and ending up on earth of all places. But as nice as it was to eschew his cover for a bit and catch up with his true comrades, it was kind of undercut by being suddenly even tinier than his usual disguise and significantly less durable. Not too fond of losing his extendable reach, either. Though he may not be too thrilled, he's still determined to make himself useful. More useful than the two idiots launching themselves off a cliff, anyway. He does a bit of research into basic self care and how to not die in general, as well as trying to figure out what did this to them and how to reverse it. Not opposed to trying earth food, he admits he's curious, if a bit intimidated by how varied it is. Learns he's got a bit of a sweet tooth, ends up mildly addicted to baked goods. Especially cheesecake. Once this whole humanity business is over, he starts a small side project on an internal filter that makes some organic matter edible just so he can keep eating it.

-Nobody takes their newfound humanity worse than Blackarachnia. She already hated being partially organic, but now the detestable, disgusting side of her makes up 100% of her frame. It feels like the final nail in the coffin. She's completely shut down, she just can't take what she's become, unsure whether this nightmare will ever end. She's not holding out on Shockwave being able to fix the issue. It never got magically resolved the first time it happened, why would it now? Her only cold comfort is the other cons have to suffer with her. She's not eating human food. If she starves, she starves, but she's not stooping to that level. She didn't before, and she sure as hell won't now.

[katiecollinns112]

A Rage Nestled Deep

Rhaena had yearned for a dragon since she could understand the disappointment in her father’s eyes. Everytime he glanced at her after talking with her twin, Baela, the pride diminished in his violet eyes. Because she was a Targaryen without a dragon, unworthy of an egg hatching in her cradle, and too meek to mount one of the unclaimed dragons within the Dragonmont, underneath the castle of their family’s ancestral seat of Dragonstone. Rhaena was not the brave and bold warrior that her sister was. Her power was not in brute strength but within her mind. She had always known that cunning and knowledge would be her tools, not the sword or the bow. While the sting of her father’s disappointment was still sharp, it was now a sting that she welcomed. One that she kept nestled deep within her, nurturing it with the rage she kept contained, letting it grow and fester until she feared she might burn from within. But she was a dragon, and dragons didn’t burn in the flames, they blossomed in them. 

Dragonstone 

“Rhaena, you must understand, I send you to the Vale because I trust you as I trust no other. I know that you will watch over Aegon and Viserys because you love them, I need you to be the mother that I cannot.” 

Rhaena nearly scoffed at her step-mothers words. She knew that what Rhaenyra said was true, that she would never let anything happen to her brothers, who she loved more than she had thought possible, but the only thought within her mind were two words, dragonless, unworthy, they echoed throughout her entire being as she stood before the Queen. For Rhaenyra was the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, not the whoring bastard that desecrated the Conqueror's crown. 

“Let us speak plainly, my Queen, you send me away to mind my brothers because I am useless to you without a dragon but I am a dutiful daughter and servant to the crown, I will do as always, what my Queen commands,” Rhaena bowed, uttering a quiet, “Your Grace,” and sharply turned to leave the room. As she left, she didn’t catch the despair that was on her step-mothers face. 

The Eyrie 

Rhaena and her brothers had left Dragonstone the day after the Queen gave her command. With a quick goodbye to her sister, grandsire, and brother, Jacaerys, they piled into a royal carriage with three dragon eggs, along with Aegon and Viserys’ hatchlings. They had finally arrived within the Vale after a week of grueling, nonstop travel and Rhaena was longing for a much needed bath and feather bed. While she loved her brothers dearly, their constant chatter and questions that she had no answers to had taken its toll on her. To put it plainly, Rhaena was exhausted. The Eyrie was as beautiful as the books had claimed it to be. Made out of pearlescent white stone, it stood proudly within the clouds, nestled between two large mountains. The country which was bright and green, provided a backdrop that stole her breath away. She immediately hated it. It was not the dark and gloomy seascape of Dragonstone, the air was fresh, lacking the sting of brimstone and salt that she had known for the last seven years. This was no place for a dragon. Her brothers, on the other hand, were excited as their retinue rolled up to the enormous Bloody Gate that the Eyrie was famous for. By the time they had finally reached the keep’s doors, it was dusk, the skies colors painting a beautiful picture of pale purples and deep blues. It made Rhaena sick as she took in the beauty around her. Interrupting her appraisal of the evening sky and its surroundings, Lady Jeyne Arryn, announced, “The Eyrie is yours, Your Grace’s,” with tight lines bracketing her mouth, marring her otherwise beautiful face. The little Princes, who had been instructed on the proper response, thanked her, and quickly turned back to their sister, seeking her approval, which she readily gave with a nod and soft smile. As soon as they turned back around Rhaena let her comforting expression drop and in its stead allowed the expression of indifference that she had trained herself to always bear. With a bow, Lady Jeyne allowed them into her home. 

To say that the Lady of The Eyrie was displeased was an understatement. She claimed, quite loudly, and frequently, that Rhaenyra had promised her a dragon for protection and instead sent two hatchlings the size of a terrier that could, “Perhaps protect them from rats,” and three, “Useless,” eggs. Rhaena explained to her that she had asked for a dragon and had received two and if she had wanted a fully grown one then she should have been a bit more cunning with her wording in the exchanges between her and the Queen. After the third day of being confined to the Eyrie’s grounds, Rhaena could no longer bear to listen to the woman and told her that Aegon and Viserys were demanding a tour of the surrounding lands. Not being able to deny the Prince’s wishes, she commanded a small group of guards to escort them around the mountains. It was nestled within these mountains where Rhaena discovered it. A patch of burnt grass, littered with broken bones. It resembled a nest of sorts, a large indent in the middle of the area. She knew immediately the one thing that could cause something of the sort, a dragon had made its home within the Vale. And there was only one dragon with the freedom of flight as well as a taste for sheep, a wild dragon, who the smallfolk had named Sheepstealer, was here.

[unanswered-stars]

Based off of this post by @fourteentrout

While I am staunchly an Azris girly forever and I love Balthquin just think about Azriel x Balthazar.

His shadows report of the changes a young fae is making in his newly appointed garrison after being awarded the title of Oristian and how he welcomes females making the ranks of his warriors. They report how the young boys under his training are treated with kindness rather than cruelty.

He watches from the shadows as Balthazar celebrates starfall in Illyria and for the first time Azriel is able to see how deeply connected his people are to the land. He watches as Balthazar practically vibrates with joy as he flits from vendor to vendor sampling every cultural dish. The music of war drums fill the air as Illyrian’s begin shooting for the sky weaving an intricate dance among the falling stars. Any clipped females are held aloft by their sons and brothers as they toss and swirl them through the air before gently catching them again.

He watches in awe as Balthazar adorns himself with a ceremonial robe and joins a line of males and females alike as they chant their prayers to the passing stars.

His breath catches as the mischievous males eyes wander to his patch of shadows and stare a little to intensely as the songs builds and Azriel’s shadows join the many voices.

His wings have never felt so free as when he is tumbling through the sky later that night. A head of wild dark hair chasing close behind.

The world had never aligned more perfectly then when bronzed fingers grazed his own before gentle tangling against scared skin.

His listens closely as Balthazar pours his heart out about reforms in Illyria and how those placed in positions of power often hold to traditionalists beliefs and are able to smoother and strangle any voices of defiance with ease due to their position.

His heart breaks as he listens to Balthazar talk about his older brother who dreamed of being an artist but was tormented relentlessly for how useless he was and what a waste of a male for having such feminine inclinations. He watched as his brother was forced into training for the High Lord’s army and how unrecognizable his brother became. Azriel could feel the feel his guilt as he talked about how his brother came home to visit one month before the blood rite barely saying a word and when Balthazar asked if he had painted anything recently and how that haunted look in his brothers eyes nearly broke an 8 year old Balthazar. That was the last time he ever saw his brother.

He squeezes his hand in reassurance as Balthazar talked of his best friend from childhood who had taken control of her own life by ending it rather than allowing her wings to be clipped.

He simmered with rage and heartbreak as the male spoke with tears in his eyes about witnessing the execution of two males from his war band, for the sole crime of loving each other.

He spoke of a village tucked deep in the woods that is governed by women as is the only safe space for unclipped females and others like him who have been deemed as unworthy for their unnatural proclivities.

Azriel glows with pride as his male passionately describes the world he dreams for his people. The world that he has trained and fought so hard for. The world that he makes more of a reality with the dawn of each new day.

He is able to reconnect with his Illyrian heritage and finds that it was never being Illyrian that was the issue, it was being unable to move past the fact that his abusers were Illyrian. It was the fact that he hates himself so deeply that he cannot help but hate the very culture that created him.

With the passing of time Azriel found he was unable to love this male without loving the culture from which they both came and which so deeply entwined them.

Please tag me in your crackship headcanons!

[alexanderlightweight]

Cat Magnus waiting to see how Dragon Alec will react to people being around him is my new obsession. I love how Magnus is so smug when Alec gets all protective & cuddly. Also I was losing it at Alec eating Magnus jewellery cause they weren’t warded enough 😭🙈🙃

Ok so I have another request (or something I was wondering). What are they like in battle? I wonder if they’d be in sync or if Magnus would be more daring and Alec would be going feral anytime someone/something goes near Magnus. Also how would Alec ward Magnus? Would they fight in different forms? (human or animal or both).

This fic is honestly so amazing and I’m so excited to see it continue to unfold. You’re so talented 😬

alec has opinions okay. and magnus enjoys hearing them, but also he's still working on his draconic understanding so he only gets about a quarter to half of the language when alec's trilling at him.

he did get that alec told the jewelry it was 'no good, unworthy. not allowed' because it wasn't 'good enough to be on magnus'.

alec: i let magnus wear me and i am the most valuable thing here besides Magnus. he can't wear subpar stuff

magnus charmed despite all his best efforts: isn't he so dashing

magnus doesn't typically fight demons in cat form because ichor in fur is messy but he does have a more demonic cat form he uses in edom. magnus has a plethora of dragon battle magic jewelry and a very hungry dragon who is irritated he had to taste magic other than magnus'

unless they fought someone really powerful, alec won't interfere in magnus' kills. that would be like saying he doesn't respect magnus. he'll protect magnus and guard him but magnus made it pretty clear alec can't kill 'pests' so he's basically a giant protective dragon who mopes about not being able to just eat magnus' enemies.

alec crunching grapes: i wish these were the hearts of your enemies

magnus: what was that treasure?

alec sulking and just turning smol!dragon to crunch his grapes in piece and pretend they're peoples organs.

-

magnus when he finally asks alec to kill somene for him

alec: I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

magnus who was just going to ask alec to freeze the person staring as alexander turns into a small mountain and just swallows the person whole like, no hesitation, no questions asked. annoyance now gone. alec licking his lips and looking at magnus, tail moving back and forth and making the building shake: who is next?

cue pandemonium in pandemonium

ty so much!

<3 lumine

-

Alec rolls his eyes from where he’s snacking on magically grown gooseberries, ignoring the battle that Magnus insisted on bringing him to.

It’s a silly little dispute but Magnus seemed hesitant to leave him behind and while Alec knows Magnus is more than competent, he also doesn’t like being left behind.

Which means that Alec gets to watch Magnus be pretty and use his magic to subdue everyone else. It’s the kind of entertainment he rarely ever enjoys and while it’s nothing truly spectacular, he does enjoy watching Magnus use magic.

It also means that when one of the idiotic warlocks messes up a spell — and an explosion of magic heads towards Magnus' only barely acceptably protected back — Alec steps in.  The last thing Magnus needs to worry about is his outfit being ruined when he’s always so generous with Alec. 

One moment a giant, writhing meteor of magic is about to clip his beloved hoard and the next, Alec snaps the defective, tasteless magic out of the air. It’s with a crunch of his jaws that he untangles the mass of energy and swallows. It barely warms his gullet and he licks his maw, tongue dripping with frozen venom as he turns to glare at the warlock who dared be so useless.

The battlefield is quiet around him, at least until the demons start to scream, fleeing from his very presence.  Alec sighs and rolls his eyes as he shifts to a smaller form. Magnus accepts him with a smirk, nothing but pride in his golden eyes as Alec wraps around his shoulders.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, remembering that I love this jacket.” Magnus croons and Alec nuzzles into his neck and cheek, pleased to be appreciated by his hoard.

—

The problem with Alexander being so protective is that Magnus is quickly running out of excuses for why he hasn’t introduced his dragon publicly, or at least to the Elders and other kings. Especially since Magnus is having trouble leaving Alexander home alone, even with the promise that his dragon isn't going anywhere.

It means that there are more and more confirmed sighting of Magnus and his boy out together. Which would be find, except Magnus isn’t convinced that he’ll be able to keep any meetings civil.

He also isn't sure if Alexander realizes he’s halfway towards being Magnus’ consort at this point and Magnus is carefully easing him into it. However when it’s official, the meetings will no longer be optional and Magnus will just have to hope that Alexander cares for him enough to not kill everyone who irks him.

It also means that Alexander is getting used to being out and about with Magnus, just without ever really being seen in his true form. 

Except for now, because his lovely dragon is fiercely protective and if Alexander so much as thinks Magnus has a potion burn, he’ll start snarling and digging through the healing cabinet.  

It means that while Magnus isn’t surprised at the scope of Alexander’s overreaction and protection, he’s still viciously gleeful of it.  No one other than Cat and Ragnor has ever tried to protect Magnus so swiftly or completely and Alexander doesn’t even have the bonds of their friendship to explain his intensity.

Magnus reaches up, summoning a galaxy pearl and offering it to his greedy boy without a second thought.

—

In the shadows, a warlock only two centuries old winces and steps further away from Bane and his… whatever he’s playing at with an actual dragon.  It was bad enough when the rumors began but it’s worse to see in person that they’re true.  To be faced with the evidence that Bane is treating the magical behemoth almost like a beloved pet. 

Elise opens her eagle eyes and watches them interact carefully, the way that the dragon so effortlessly changes sizes and she swallows harshly.  The only reason for a dragon to be able to shift so easily is either that they’ve mastered their draconic form or their power is immense. 

It’s with fear that Elise thinks both might be true and she bites her lip as she watches Bane summon a massive galaxy pearl. It’s with terror that she watches him offer the priceless treasure to the dragon curled around his neck and she stares as the dragon eats it.

No matter how important battle magic is, Elise no longer wants to be there.  She can learn other places, in fights where Bane and his dragon aren’t.  Because Bane was already one of the most dangerous kings and now, well, anyone who had a problem with Bane are about to regret it.

[holly-fixation]

When the Planets Align

Summary: Tragedies of gods and goddesses have been passed down for thousands of years on thousands of planets. In the case of one small planet of life, it's the desire to be with the stars. With space. A god and goddess in love, but tied away by the very existence they were born for.

Inspired by the beautiful artwork of Safer Sephiroth and Planet Goddess Aerith by @kay-i. Posting for the Final day of Aeriseph week!

…

Stories of gods and goddesses had been passed down for countless generations over countless planets. Some cultures believed the very planet they stood upon was a goddess, giving life to everything on it. Others believed the sky was a god that blessed their planet with continued prosperity. Of course, not every culture was correct, but not every culture was wrong either.

Every life bearing planet had a goddess tied to its soil. She was the first living creature to call the surface home and the last one to die after billions of years spreading her power. This circle of life was accepted rather than mourned. However, there were prophecies detailing instructions of how to keep the goddess, thus the planet, alive forever. But like all prophecies, the chance of Gaia housing the goddess of legend was slim to none. 

Aerith, the Goddess of Gaia, never minded her fate. She loved her creatures with her whole heart, raising them and aiding them with utter joy filling the atmosphere. Each new flower, egg, child, or leaf brought a smile to her face, and the homes her creatures built within each of Gaia’s environments fascinated her. She did everything in her power to balance her life with their growth, happily giving more of herself when that’s what it took.

Supposedly planets were named at formation, not when their goddesses were born. She heard stories of goddesses holding jealousy of that simple fact, but she found that competitive desire useless. Aerith devoted herself to her people. They mattered more than her pride.

Still, despite the truth she knew was true, she found herself staring into the stars, a seeded desire to live among them like the gods festering the same way her people wished upon them to live out their lives with the perfect companion. A slightly larger part craved the cosmos beyond her planet, but it was a part she didn’t pay attention to. Gods and goddesses rarely engaged in true unions. She truly made all the happiness she needed on her own surface. She never actively searched for anything beyond them, yet she gladly accepted their invitations.

Gods were very different from goddesses. Unlike the atmosphere of the planet they could never leave, gods roamed the cosmos creating stars, planets, even galaxies. Some gods specialized. Some didn’t. Some planets eventually bore goddesses, most orbited their stars emptily, structures with no use, relics forgotten to time. Gods followed the flow of the stars, the turn of galaxies and the very universe itself. 

These gods, beyond their own duties, held the sole responsibility of spreading knowledge throughout the cosmos. History, prophecies, the expected fate of each planet, all were their choice to inform. If a god deemed a goddess unworthy of knowledge, they would simply leave. Some held themselves in higher regard than the planets, but most fluctuated from humble to arrogant depending on their experiences. 

Sephiroth, the God of Yellow Stars, absolutely acted more stern and arrogant than most of the star gods by his very nature. He was one of the direct children of Jenova, the primordial goddess credited with the creation of the known cosmos. Her presence drifted everywhere among her work, her tentacles of stardust branching every galaxy together in harmony, and communication beyond his earliest years became impossible. Physically, he took after her, his halo and many wings a constant reminder of her presence. Some days, it was annoying. He at least wanted an explanation as to why the life forms on planets grew gifts of prophecies he needed to spread. At minimum he wanted justification for why he was at the center of the most frustrating one. 

In his juvenile years, a prophecy came about claiming ‘stars of yellow will bond with pedals of blue for time immemorial’. He was young, but he learned far too quickly what some goddesses attempted to push onto him for what he could potentially give in return. Every planet he visited led to the same fake field of every shade of dyed blue. It sickened him, the way goddesses threw themselves at him in an exaggerated attempt to leave the surface of their worlds and live forever. Even if that rumor was true, and he found no ounce of proof that it was, the blatant disrespect, lack of boundaries, and even attempts at capture left Sephiroth hard and bitter. He had not stepped foot on a living planet in many millennia, no longer risking the slightest chance of betrayal of either goddess or god. Each memory stung him deeply. He always craved knowledge of planetary life and structure, but every goddess robbed him of the chance to learn by focusing on themselves alone. 

The God of Red Stars, Genesis, persistently pushed him to converse with 'considerably friendly' goddesses, whatever that meant. The God of Blue Stars, Angeal, understood his predicament but still encouraged him to step foot on any flourishing planet, claiming his behavior was not healthy. Everyone had an opinion on his actions, even the infantile gods of the three white dwarfs born his own dead stars, technically his children but he disliked the thought. Yazoo spoke of companionship as something to truly desire. Loz craved the attention of a mother and convinced himself the pain would lessen if he had a planet to be with. Kadaj told him to ‘get his head out of his ass and pick a planet already’.

He did not consider any of their collective advice useful.

However, he gave every planet, thus goddess, a chance. He did assume they would fail every trial of self control, but he took his duty seriously, spreading knowledge as he continued his fueling of his stars.

Eventually his path led him to Gaia.

He had not been to Gaia in billions of years. In fact, his brethren visited countless times, at least Genesis had. The goddess held only just over one billion years. Not young, but certainly immature. He sensed the goddess and where she chose for him to land, rolling his eyes a bit before descending as he awaited the same fake blues. However, the only blue that met his eyes was the sky. He found himself outside a forest with trees of both leaves and needles, none of which carrying the faux blues. The goddess, instead of bowing before him, faced away and searched for something in the forest from behind a tree. She wore a white dress adorned with purple roses and gold pendants, her hair tied back with a purple bow.

“Hold on just one moment please. This little guy’s been giving me so much trouble,” She explained in hushed tones. 

Sephiroth was stunned. No one had ever treated him like this, like something material was more important. He wasn’t given much time to watch in confusion before the young goddess launched forward and captured a small creature in her hands.

She cupped it carefully, even petting it to keep it calm as she approached him. She did curtsy, but she allowed her white dress to brush against the dirt in order to contain the creature. “God of Yellow Stars, Sephiroth, welcome back to Gaia. My name is Aerith, and this is one of my newest creations.”

“A pleasure,” He tried to be cordial but could not hide the confusion in his voice. “But what is-?”

“Shhh!” She gave him a stern look, her forest green eyes meeting his burning cyan ones. “Just listen.” She released the creature, a small gray bird that flapped away the moment it was given the chance. But its wings… did they just make noise?

“How did-?”

“It’s called a wing whistle, and this is the first of my birds to have it! They have these special feathers in their wings that whistle against the air during flight! I have no idea what evolutionary purpose they serve, but it’s amazing, isn’t it?”

He heard every word, but her beauty and joy distracted him. Her creatures. She actually spoke of her creatures, not herself. The subtle tilt of her head brought endearment to his heart rather than frustration like he expected. “...Yes, it is.”

“Can your wings whistle?”

Sephiroth found himself chuckling at her innocent yet kind question. “No. But there is nothing for them to whistle against in the cosmos.”

This goddess barely let him speak, her song-like voice filling every beat of time, but he actually found comfort in that. Her excitement and her passion for every flora and fauna of her planet mesmerized him. She was so… genuine. She wasn’t showing off so he would be impressed or fulfill that infuriating prophecy with her. She was like a mother, loving every inch of her planet unconditionally.

In the three days on Gaia, Aerith showed him hundreds, maybe thousands of creatures, facts and knowledge spilling from her mouth like a waterfall. She didn’t care about the news of the galaxy unless it threatened her planet. Her constant conversation captured them both, however. Sephiroth couldn’t help some of the questions that came to mind. Why did so many creatures evolve into crabs? Why was every plant so desperate to become a tree? 

Their time together was truly the most calming, relaxing, carefree visit he made to any planet in his lifetime. Why did he push this off for so long? Before he left the surface, he calculated exactly when the cycle of stars allowed him passage here. Surprisingly, it was common. Once each century of this world, the stars and planets aligned perfectly. He couldn’t help but ponder the chances.

“You can come back every century? Why did you wait so long to come here?”

“Following the star cycle is not so simple. I can’t visit every planet in each cluster of galaxies per rotation. I needed to prioritize. I am glad I had the opportunity to see this planet now. Thank you, Aerith.”

He said his first proper goodbye in millenia to the small goddess and swore he would return as soon as possible. She smiled and nodded before he flew off her surface. Aerith waved until the tiniest glow of his halo vanished in the night sky.

* * *

One hundred years passed, and just as promised, Sephiroth returned. This time, Aerith beckoned him to a completely different side of the planet, most likely to display more of her growing creatures.

Sephiroth did not expect to land on the peak of a plateau gilded with perfect blue roses, their thorns and leaves perfect and untouched. He hated the slow simmer of betrayal building in his chest, but upon seeing Aerith donning the same dress from long ago, he simply descended until his feet were an inch from the traitorous blues.

Without answering his silent question, Aerith reached down and plucked one of the many flowers. Its petals quickly faded to the purple adorning her dress. “I am… well aware of the prophecy. I didn’t know these were blue until my people escorted me here a few years ago. They always offered these roses to me when I blessed them with good crops.” She almost looked sad. Pensive. “I had no idea.”

He scanned her before countering, “Why are you worried?”

“Well, Genesis told me you can’t stand goddesses that try to do this! Because they fake and pretend ‘look at me, I have BLUE petals on gorgeous harmless flowers. I’m so cool and perfect for you! Just like the prophecy!’ But I’d like to spend more time with you, and I wanted to tell you the truth.” She glanced away. “I’m sure I’m not the only goddess with blue flowers, and I’m perfectly happy with my people. You have no obligation to me.”

“...You’re weird when you’re serious.”

Her planet green eyes met his celestial blues.

“I enjoy spending time with you. That has not changed from one field.”

Her smile instantly warmed his heart, and he suddenly found himself wrapped in her arms, her chin resting on his shoulder as her feet dangled above the ground. “I’m so glad! There’s so much more I want to show you-”

“Perhaps this time,” He interrupted, holding her by her waist to keep her from falling, “I can tell you about the changes of the galaxies and the progress of my stars.”

“Absolutely! I love every event! I knew I forgot to ask something last time.” Aerith laughed, her voice melodious and endearing. “But afterward I need to show you this tiny rabbit species not too far from here. It literally fits in the palm of your hand! It’s adorable. You should see-...” She was backing away to be respectful, to look into his eyes, but the closeness of his face made her trail off, her eyes scanning every detail from barely an inch between them.

He smirked softly, allowing her time to process as he could not pry his gaze from hers.

“Um…”

He simply raised a brow.

“Do you…-?”

“I feel it too.” The shift in the air. Both of their heartbeats. A growing desire for warmth and closeness. Contact.

“What should I…-?”

Sephiroth silently brushed a stray lock of her brown hair behind her ear. “Whatever you want.”

Aerith partially allowed her instinct to take the reins, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his. 

A spark between them lowered Sephiroth’s eyelids until he realized they had not moved in minutes, mindlessly enjoying each other’s presence and touch. No thoughts. No distractions. Only each other. Warm. And comfortable. …And safe.

The draw of their hearts pulled them together, even when he ultimately returned to the cosmos. 

Many centuries and many visits passed before either admitted what that feeling truly was.

Every pantheon had its tragedy for love, no matter the planet or gods. This was just theirs, separated by a hundred years for only days of happiness. But they suffered through each lapse for each other. And each other only for the joy they raised together for eternity.

.

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Thanks for reading!

Author’s Note: This is it! The long awaited fic for Aeriseph week! It was my first time attempting any real ‘romance’ so I hope I at least delivered on it a bit! Thanks for reading!

[ink-flavored]

Hell and Demons

BTS Series: ⬅ Table of Contents - Purgatory➡ Also available on Neocities! P&J Taglist (Check out my Google form to get added): @elegant-paper-collection @auroblaze@zeenimf @vacantgodling @foxys-fantasy-tales Banner art by @auroblaze

I couldn’t have a post about Heaven without a follow-up about Hell, so here we are! For this world-building post, I’ll be discussing how Pride & Justice’s version of Hell functions and how demon powers work.

The Structure of Hell

When Lucifer and his fellow revolutionaries were cast from Heaven, with their wings torn from them and their halos broken, a river of fire awaited them. As the first fallen angels screamed and burned and boiled alive, the strength of Lucifer’s rage alone was enough to transform them all, and the realm God doomed them to wander. Using the last of the power Heaven granted him, the former archangel molded himself to the fabric of the wasteland dimension, bent it to his will, and proclaimed a new kingdom—the Kingdom of Hell. And proclaimed himself its new God.

Empowered from the fresh spring of energy, Lucifer granted his followers gifts that compared to God’s blessings. He preached a new way of life, away from the tyranny they’d all risen up against. No more would they be abandoned for the fleeting affection of a new creation. Any who were unworthy in Heaven would be welcomed with open arms in Hell—to be among their true siblings, where all were powerful, and all were heard.

In time, however, Lucifer’s grand promises were proven less than the sum of their parts. Festering in pain and anger and pride, he encouraged other fallen angels—demons—do the same. To let the anger for Heaven and God fuel them the same way he’d done to create their new home, and to take the name of their sin. He taught them to show no mercy, accept no compromises, and always, always fight when slighted. Under his rule, the Kingdom of Hell had only one law: survival of the fittest. The demons within became ruthlessly cutthroat and transactional. Whereas Heaven is a well-oiled machine, Hell is an army of gears with nothing to power but their own fury.

The one thing all demons could agree on was that they had all been abandoned, and one day their rage would be so great that God Himself would tremble.

Demons

Though they were once angels, demons have very little in common with their holy cousins. When an angel is banished to Hell, their wings are cut off to forbid a return to Heaven. Their halos are broken, and the halves are driven into their skulls, creating horns that eternally spark and smoke. As they fall, the blinding speed and remainder of their holy flame create comet-trails that grow tails from their backs. And when they land in Hell at last, they spend ages and ages burning alive, in agony.

Lucifer encourages newly fallen demons to use their rage to transform themselves permanently, pitching it as the same gift God gives His Realized angels. This second change is limited, but it’s enough for most demons to applaud Lucifer for his awesome power. Part of this change comes in their true forms—the transformation from the lack of wings, halo, and pain mutates their Nameless forms. Instead of great rings of fire, they become enormous beasts, and no two are the same. They can be animalistic, nothing more than sludge, or anything in between.

Like angels can embody any virtue, demons can embody any sin. Sloth, wrath, greed, gluttony, lust, and pride, often an inverse of the virtue they served in Heaven, though not always. While temperance can easily become sloth, it is just as easy for it to become wrath. Love or passion have the easiest path to lust, but also have quick tracks to greed or pride. Assuming a demon’s past virtue based on the sin that caused their fall is flawed—and a useless practice. There are few demons who acknowledge they were ever angels, devoted wholly to their new purpose.

Powers

Like angels, a demon’s powers in Hell are only as relevant as any other demon they happen to cross paths with. As fighting and displays of strength are far more common in Hell, the use of sheer brutal strength is the most common “power” wielded amongst other demons. But, again like angels, when they travel to Earth their powers become exceedingly potent.

Many demons despise humans, especially those who fell in Lucifer’s rebellion. For this reason, they might refuse to interact with Earth and humanity altogether, satisfied with prowling in the fire and shadows of Hell with other demons. Other demons who desire power whenever they can get it, or whose animosity is particularly twisted, rise to Earth in an attempt to condemn others to their same fate.

Similarly to an angel, a demon can’t remain at their full power on Earth forever, as it will drain without access to Hell, and they’ll become trapped as humans. However, very few demons come to Earth with the intent to use their full power in the first place—humans aren’t worth such an expense. Instead, demons sniff out humans that have the potential for sin, and earnestly push a small handful of them in the direction of damnation. Where angels cause miracles, demons cause adversity.

“Sniff” is almost literal in this case. Whereas angels can sense human’s pain, when a demon changes, as do their powers. After their transformation, demons can taste potential and active sin, with the strength of the flavor increasing the closer they are to the source. Most demons can only taste, and therefore influence, the sin of their origin—demons of gluttony can only taste the potential for gluttony, for example—with one notable exception. Pride, the root of all sin, has the power to detect all kinds of sin.

EDITOR’S NOTE: I forgot to mention it, but the sin of pride has special extra powers because Lucifer, who fell for his pride, is, like, really self-centered.

The way a demon pushes a human toward sin is a matter of infiltration. If a human doesn’t act upon their potential for sin, the mere thought doesn’t make them sinful. It’s only counted as a strike against them if the sin is acted upon, and tangibly hurts another. A demon’s purpose for coming to Earth is to seek out these potential sinners, and goad them in that direction. They directly use their powers as influence, to convince a human to act on that thought, and damn themselves. Whether or not the demon succeeds is up to the strength of the human to resist the suggestion, their personal willingness to harm another, and how much pushing the demon has to do.

Like an angel’s wings, a demon becomes invisible if they reveal their horns and tail, visible only to the human they’re currently engaged with. Once the demon disappears, the human will forget them entirely, convinced that they made up their minds all on their own.

The classic “deal with the devil” can’t be forgotten, of course. Demons rarely stick around on Earth disguised as humans, but those that do intend to get a little more out of their causing of sin than sick satisfaction. Taking possession of a soul means more than simply adding a tally on Hell’s population count—it’s a mark of status among demons, to have successfully claimed a soul. Demons make deals with each other as well as humans, forming brief alliances to defeat a common enemy—as long as one has something the other is willing to pay them with. Those that fail to complete their contracts or break them early—whether for a human or another demon—are hunted for the display of weakness.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Slight change here! When demons break or fail their contracts, they die. When they make contracts, with humans or each other, they necessarily tie their own soul to the completion of it. That’s another reason why it’s a status symbol—only the most badass of demons would risk their eternal lives for an ego boost. Most demons will intentionally make sure they have the maximum amount of time or infinite chances to complete the contract to wiggle out of that unfortunate side effect, but not everything can be snuck out of that way. If a demon with a contract bound to their soul were to, say, stay on Earth long enough that they lose their powers and become human, they’d die the instant their power fully left, or when the contract can’t be completed, whichever comes first.

The Sinful

But what of humanity? What of the sinful humans who aren’t permitted to enter God’s Kingdom?

While Lucifer boasted Hell as a place where all would be heard, none would be cast out, and any found unworthy by God were welcome, privately he still seethed at what he blamed as the reason for his downfall: humanity. The puny creatures that stole God’s love from him, and caused him to be cast out for simply asking what he was due.

When the first humans rejected by God turned up at his doorstep, Lucifer quickly changed his tune. If the Kingdom of Hell was to be like the Kingdom of Heaven, this meant there would inevitably be an unworthy class. After all, if it’s good enough for God, it’s good enough for them.

The sinful spend the rest of their eternal lives tormented by, or in service to, the demons that populate Hell. They truly are the lowest class of the universe. Heaven won’t help them, and Purgatory may have already failed them. Not even other demons, abandoned by God and intimately aware of their plight, feel sympathy for them, consumed eternally by bitterness and vengeance.

Well, here we are! This one got long, but I had a lot I wanted to talk about regarding demons. I thought about it a lot, since the protagonist is a demon, and I’m really excited to hear what everyone thinks!

Thanks for your generous support, as always!

— Annika

[isaysorryverysoftly]

the form of all evil is the same

Don't ever say things like 'you stupid monkey' 'you dog'... all evil wants to do is take things that exist fine and happy on their own and put them in a hierarchy of unworthy to worthy in order to manipulate people. The concept of unworthyness is so dogmatic that anyone who does it even once is incapable of coherent thought, to impose unworthiness on anyone is so arbitrary yet so corrosive that it is seemingly the primary sin. The pride to say that another existent being doesnt deserve something is so EVIL and yet so COMPLETELY IMPOTENT AND DOES NOTHING TO BENEFIT YOU. Like seriously, imagine actually believing in making someone feel bad by calling them a dog, and thus beleiving in the idea that being called a dog was bad, you lose TWO times, and for what... like a tiny thread of an nessecarily solipsistic ego boost. Not only do you fear being compared to a dog, but you also disrespect dogs for no reason now. You just gain a 'standard of unworthiness', a standard which posits dogs as unworthy, which doesn't do anything... you cant do anything positive with that standard, all it does is make you less likely to interpret a dog in a beautiful manner, and the other thing you get is like, an insecurity about being compared to a dog now... Like fucking good one you idiot. Good one! It's just making so much nothing out of so much something. It breaks my heart. I want to name this evil technique of pitting innocent parties against eachotehr in a heirachy. Im calling that shit Noggling, because i find it BOGGLING... but in a NOT good way. Dont noggle, not even once, no matter how inaninmate the things you are noggling with are. Never even say 'your being such a chair'. The idea of trying to convince someone of the lowered value of chairs, and then trying to convince someone to apply that lowered value of chairs onto themselves, thus causing them to feel bad about themselves at the price of also having a very close minded and uncreative view of chairs is so collaterally useless and depressing. The evil is in the form of noggling itself, not even the things you noggle against eachother.

NEVER NOGGLE!

You can goggle though, you can call someone a diamond, thats just what a metaphor is. Because it's simply asking someone to imagine if their traits were represented in the same form a diamond is.

Like when someone says 'you are my diamond' they are encouraging thought, they are encouraging you to think 'ok, so in what ways could i be like a diamond... hmm

Ok so this person subjectively feels like i am lustrous, and that i am like a little precious object that they want to keep connected to their heart'

The fundamental difference between noggling and goggling is the latter encourages thought and expereince and the former doesn't. The latter doesn't actually have a specified symbolic meaning, it doesn't make a virtue or heirachy out of diamonds and then apply it to you, for example it doesn't posit a heirachy between coal and diamonds, and then says something like 'good job not being a coal today' no, that would be noggling. Goggling gets its value by offering you a creative task of trying to imagine how you could possibly represent this 'goggled-object' in another persons mind.

Another goggling could be 'oh darling you are like my coal' and then you have the task of being hmm... what do i do that is coal like. Oh, they mean that i am that really inexpensive ore in minecraft that can be combined with A SINGLE STICK to make fucking FOUR WHOLE TORCHES! Thats wonderful...

Right, to goggle someone, to say 'you are like X' in a goggle sense, is to give them a relation that you have made in their head, in order for them to work how they feel about you. To boggle on the other hand, is to posit a heirachy and then denigrate someone on the basis of that heirachy, in which case even being at the top of the heirachy is a form of denigration, because it is denigrating them by implying that they nessecarily have to even BE A PART OF A HEIRACHY AT ALL, AND THAT THEY NEED PEOPLE UNDER THEM. You know, jesus was the king of this world, and yet he didn't denigrate himself by not hanging out with peasents, and removing himself from them in some form of heirachy. To be in a heirachy is to loose surface area is to be in contact with less objects out of dogmatic subjugation of those objects. GOSH I AM SO MAD!

[floofysmallbob]

I worked so fucking hard, so fucking hard, and I’m stuck behind everyone again.

I’ve always been so far ahead, I’ve always prided myself on being the best, that’s my whole fucking value, that’s all I fucking am. Other than that, I just make my whole personality being being a retarded ass faggot. I have no character, I just make dirty jokes and hate myself, and that’s all I ever do. I’ve always thought I was an artist, but now I can’t even make the simplest things, the things I was best at look like they do in my head, or even decent. I got rejected from art school, I can barely finish a single piece, and haven’t for months. I’ve prided myself on being the smartest my whole life. I started reading chapter books at 4, I was always gifted, I was always a grade ahead in reading and math, I had to skip a grade when I transferred schools and they didn’t have the same acceleration program because it was so frustratingly easy, I had to prove so many fucking times that I belonged in the class that they didn’t put me in, I got all As while being suicidal and depressed, I would cry when I got 94s, because I had to be smart, because that’s all I know I am.

I had to take a month off of school due to mental health, and it felt like I failed. I felt horrid when I ended that year with a B in math, I felt like I didn’t deserve the class that I had pushed to be put in. I got kicked out of school last year, and the homeschool program just felt like they were ridiculing me, underestimating me, putting me down. It felt terrible, it made me feel the way I did when I had to skip a grade, when I left my one friend at that school behind and had to deal with being made fun of behind my back, just so I could take classes that were my level. I may have finished that homeschool program with As, but I felt undeserving, unworthy, and useless.

And then my friend texts me, my friend who has always said they were in higher level math courses despite not doing so in school, and says that my old school, the one I was kicked out of because the teachers were ableist pieces of shit, has changed up their math program, that they’re now in a math curriculum I haven’t done yet. My friend who has always been in classes below me.

And they told me our mutual friend, the one I’ve always felt inferior to, the one who has never had her grades drop below a 90, who is so incredibly smart and works so hard despite being there on financial aid, is now two grades ahead of where I am, which is already 1-2(depends on the school) years ahead of average. That our mutual friend has to take an optional course because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have a math class for senior year.

Because despite my efforts, despite being younger than everyone in my grade, despite all of my dumb fucking irrelevant struggles, I’m still being surpassed. By people that I thought I could compete with, that I thought I could be on the same level as. But I’ve been stuck at home since November, I haven’t seen any of my friends in months, I’m lagging behind now because of how shitty that homeschool program was, and I’m afraid I’m just going to get kicked out of another school, because my mental health is terrible and people talked behind my back(and right in front of me), and one of my only good qualities is disappearing, because I can’t do basic addition or remember anything, let alone do duel fucking enrollment.

What the hell was I thinking, planning to take a French III class at the community college this year, and try and do math with people two grades my senior, and try to keep my friendships when everyone is either changing schools of moving and my old school has just gotten worse and I can’t trust anyone and I have to TALK TO FUCKING INTERNET BASTARDS BECAUSE I CANT TELL ANYTHING TO THE PEOPLE I’M SUPPOSED TO BE CLOSE WITH and I can’t cry or scream because I stopped being able to a while back, and I can’t even trust my own feelings or this fucking tumblr rant because of hormones, and menstrual cycles, and being a teenager, and I can’t do anything because it just feels neon orange and I don’t even want to kill myself anymore and I wish I did because then I would at least have something to blame and hope for but if I don’t want to die I don’t know what to do because I don’t want to be stuck like this and I can’t

I can’t be stuck here with terrible mental health and silent tearless sobbing and people who are leaving me and surpassing me and a lack of being able to do anything and feeling horrible and terrible and like I’m about to start convulsing and stuck with a sibling that screams and a dad who has to have his teenage child clean his apartment and a retarded brain that just hates me and I can’t

and I’m stuck on my device all the time because I can’t do anything else and and d jchejxihdjskndnxnannsnc dna dnd andand how is it that I’m such a mess and I can’t do anything and it feels like my heart is trying to escape my body and maybe I wish it would and nothing had to be like this and I could have been better and I could have dont better and I know I need to be better because how the hell did I end up here having to spill all my worst thoughts onto a screen and everything is bricked up and it’s that color too and it just feels like something is knocking against that wall so hard and I wish it would just fall over already but it won’t and it won’t just fall and I just won’t fucking die and I want to want to die and I’m just some incompetent little shit and I don’t know anything about myself and I’m just trying to grab fucking attention because I’m desperate just like I’m desperate for validation and I’m desperate to be the best because I need to be the best, I need to be the best at something, just one thing. And I tried to go to the climbing gym because that used to be my thing, too, I was a climber, I was good at it, and I used to be good at gymnastics, too, when I was little, and now being smart is becoming the ‘used to’ and my younger sibling is doing all those things now and doing them so much better than I ever did and now I’ve just got reading, and I’m just barely holding on to that feeling of intelligence and now I don’t think I could beat a 5th grader in an academic competition and I’m just losing everything and I can’t fucking deal with it and I’m overreacting and I’m being dramatic and this isn’t real just like how I’m probably lying about everything else too and I’m doubting the words I’m writing right now and I can’t.

I’ve said it so many times when people try to tell me to just do but I can’t

I can’t

[splendidissimus]

Character Questions cont.

[master list]

38. Have they ever had to hurt someone else, physically or mentally, to save themselves or another person? Were they the same after the incident, or did it change them?

Theo:

Having to perform the Cruciatus curse in Dark Arts class on students who'd earned detentions. At first he didn't participate, but being too obvious about not trying earned corporal punishment, and he had a black eye from it for a while. The first person he successfully cast it on was Draco, who spent a solid chunk of the year in Detention; he'd been angry with him for something outside of class and he accidentally (or, he wonders, was it actually an accident?) actually did it. He did feel guilty about it, especially how vindicating it felt for a second.

Theo considers himself an observer, a habitual bystander, not someone who gets involved and certainly not someone who takes a stand on things. That convinced him that he really wasn't going to take part in that anymore, though, and by the end of the year he was drawing unwanted attention for his "inability" (unwillingness) to perform a proper curse.

Draco:

Tasked with assassination, under implied pain of death for himself and his family. There was never any good outcome for him. If he'd done it, it would have messed him up. However, the fact that he couldn't bring himself to do it when he had the chance also fucked him up. It's a source of shame for years afterward. Not that he wants to be a murderer, but his takeaway is that he's too weak and useless to even do what needs to be done protect people he loves.

Then he was forced to torture other Death Eaters for their failures, with the threat of suffering worse torture himself. He learned that it's possible to fuel a Cruciatus off of sheer fear and self-preservation, which is not a proud feeling, and cements his view of himself as a coward. But there was another dimension to it that he was socially adept enough to be painfully aware of - it wasn't just the torture that was the punishment, but that the torture was coming from him. He's so pathetic and useless that being tortured by him was especially demeaning, used as a way to humiliate people. It also drove home that he didn't have (wasn't allowed) any pride, because he'd do that just because he was told to, even knowing what it said about him.

The Muggle hunt he was made to participate in is also relevant. His father got him drunk first so he could handle it and he managed to not have to actually do anything ((subject to change when I actually write it)), but being there made him feel evil. He found out that there's a lot of space between mindlessly parroting rhetoric and actually taking action.

Bluntly, when he was 17 his entire sense of self-worth was destroyed, largely (though not entirely) by this, and it tore him down to just shame, so he could only see himself as useless and powerless and unworthy. He wouldn't really stand up for himself again for years, and continues to not really trust his own abilities. (It also damaged his relationship with his father, about the only one he felt equal with, in that they were both trash, though even then he knows his father is stronger than he is.)

Overall, not good.

[sunlitmcgee]

i had to indulge just a Little

-

Sam scratched at Fran’s ears, humming a little tune to himself as he made some sandwiches. Tommy already messaged him on his communicator that he’d be coming over, so Sam wanted to treat the boy to some food, especially since he bothered to come all this way to Sam’s home.

After Dream died, for nearly a year Sam didn’t know what to do with himself. The prison seemed useless now, since Techno stayed in the north and no one else on the server committed the same kind of horrendous crimes that Dream did. Sam felt useless and alone. If he wasn’t the Warden anymore, then what was he really? 

Needless to say, he spent a long time trying to find out. He took up other projects, working on the bank with Hannah and Boomer, and helping Tommy and Jack with the hotel if he ever needed to. The two of them were now co-owners of the hotel, and while they still occasionally bickered, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it was before.

Sam Nook was still fully operational, Sam sometimes upgrading him and upgrading his parts just to be sure that he was fully functional and running. Tommy appreciated it, especially knowing that Sam still worked for Quackity and couldn’t always be there to help.

His relationship with Tommy had shifted quite a bit over the years. For the longest time, he could only ever love the boy from the other room, thinking of himself as unlovable and unworthy to be anything even tangentially close to a father. But after Dream died, it became a little easier.

It took a long time, but Sam eventually sat Tommy down and explained to him everything. Why he bent the rules of the prison around Tommy, why he built Sam Nook for him, why he did all of it. Tommy had stared at him, jaw agape, coming to terms with the fact that someone on the server actually valued him as if he was their child. Tommy used to pride himself on having no parents, at least none he could remember, but in that moment it seemed like that belief shattered in on itself. 

And Tommy accepted it.

Sam had gotten very emotional during that discussion, feeling hot tears come down his cheeks. Tommy had reached towards him and Sam took him in his arms, holding his boy close to his chest.

While now, Sam new Tommy would never 100% see him as his father, he still allowed Sam to dote on him a little. Sam would go out of his way to do things for Tommy, even without the younger asking him to. It was somewhat as it had always been, but with the two having a new understanding of each other. 

Sam never cared how old Tommy got, he didn’t care that the boy was currently a young adult. To him, Tommy would always be his baby, his son whom he loved more than he would ever be able to say.

-

creeper da..