#ready to resurrect him and kill him Again

[allbeendonebefore]

every single time im like i need to cool it about ralph klein i read about some other bullshit and i’m like nope nope nope nope i was right he was a scumbag!!!!!!

[winepresswrath]

John as a magical girl feels right and true but it's really thinking of Mercy and Augustine as his supporting cast and Alecto as his Tuxedo mask that's doing me in. Mercy in particular. He blasted her atoms apart! She was his cranky yet adoring rival and he killed her because she made herself unloveable.

[lynnlovesthestars]

The sun, the moon and the stars.

Pairing: Astarion x reader.

Synopsis: with the solution in your hands, you give back Astarion all he has lost.

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, kinda smut but not graphic?

Warnings: mentions of insecurities and self doubt, mention of past abuse, death. Extra warning: Astarion being so loving and caring. Tav/reader taking risks for Astarion. Post act 3.

WC: 5k

Alternate name: Curses, Undead, Deseases.

Author's note: Hello everyone, before i posted "One and only" I didn't expect it to be loved so much, but after seeing the love it received, I took it to my heart to grant your wish. So here it is, the part two of One and Only, which I'll link down here.

One and Only.

Taglist: @skittleabyss

Cure for vampirism: kill and resurrect the vampire with a scroll of true resurrection or, use a scroll of wish and hope you won't fuck it up.

Finally the scroll was in your hands, the legendary wish.

The great Mordenkainen spoke plenty of this spell, the inevitable results of using it and the power it held.

The risks were great, like being sick and weak for weeks, and the chance you might never be able to cast the spell ever again. It was a one shot enchantment, and you would have done it in a heartbeat if it meant your Astarion would be free from vampirism, even if it meant not being able to control the weave ever again.

You were all on the floor, weighing the situation while you read and reread the spell.

Astarion sat next to you, his hands shaking as he kneaded your thigh. The adrenaline from the fight was still cursing through your bodies, even though you were all eagerly to get over with this, you knew that it'd be better to cast the spell in the safety of your home, where you could rest right away.

Gale spent the whole trip explaining the hows and whats of the spell, especially the risks, trying to remind you that there could have been other ways. nevertheless your mind was set. You would risk it all for Astarion.

Everyone scattered around the living room, tea cups were all over the place to ease everyone's nerves as you mentally repeated what you were going to ask.

Shadowheart protected your home, making sure you could feel safe as you rested afterwards.

Wyll was sitting close to you, in case you would pass out and needed to be carried to bed.

Gale was reading and rereading Mordenkainen's tome to make sure there was no trap.

Karlach was trying to cheer everyone up, offering hugs to everyone.

When she planted herself in front of Astarion, ready to beg him to be hugged, he took her by surprise.

He was shaking ever so slightly, the pure anxiety was ebbing through his veins, he was not going to back away from an hug.

"Can you stay next to me? I trust you" He smiled weakly as she squealed happily.

"Of course" She beamed. She took the spot next to Astarion and opened her arms to wrap the pale elf's body in her warm embrace.

When you finally raised your eyes, ready to cast the wish, you locked eyes with everyone one at a time.

All your friends were gathered there because they loved you and Astarion, and were not going to miss the moment. Even Lae'zel was uncharacteristically sweet, even in her harsh and bitter words. "Tck, you better not come back as a zombie, cause I don't know what zombies need" She scoffed. "And you already reeked like this, I can't stand zombie stench at all". She said scrunching her nose.

You took a long breath and lastly locked eyes with Astarion, exchanging a nod as the silence fell around you.

The knot in your throat was tight, your words almost were strangled out of your lips.

"I wish.." You could feel the air being knocked out of your chest. "That Astarion Acunin" the words wrapped around your throat tightly, the magic vividly ebbing from your body for everyone to see. "Could be" The soft blue-purple glow flowing out of your body, wrapped around Astarion's throat, making him breath harder. "Cured.." You felt the word drain you almost completely. "From vampirism and" You breaths were heavy, worry in everyone's eyes while you didn't stop. "Could live his life as elf" You were shaking, threatening to hit the ground, but no one had to intervene, you had to endure it all alone, for him.

"Like before being turned" As you spoke the last word, the magic that was holding you in a chokehold suddenly released you. The magical flow disappeared in Astarion as you fell to the ground, and him with you.

Everyone scrambled around the room, checking for pulses and bringing you to your shared bed.

They tucked you under the comforter, as they planned turns to take care of you both.

They didn't know how long it would take for you to wake again, but they concentrated on things they had power to do.

Your body was heavy with an inexplicable tiredness. Your eyelids felt like bricks as you fought to open them.

The soft light of the sunrise filtered through the curtains of the room, almost blinding you for a moment.

You were in your bed, tucked in and warm. An arm was wrapped around your waist protectively as you could hear the faint chatting coming from the other rooms.

You turned to look around you,then it hit you.

The arm around you, it was warm. The complexion was still pale, yet it looked like it was almost a very faint shade of pink.

You almost jolted up, if it wasn't for your limbs, that grounded you, startling the sleeping Astarion next to you.

He gasped as he awoke suddenly, his eyes squeezing for a moment before opening wide at the realization that you were awake.

He didn't change much, his body at the end of the day was mostly the same, if not for the color that he regained.

His hair was a mess from sleep, the soft white curls were all over the place, untamed. His cheeks, nose and lips were warm with a pinkish blush, and his eyes.

Oh his beautiful scarlet eyes were still there, but softer. A shade that was more pinkish blue, than red. A color so soft that swirled peacefully. His canines were still slightly vampiresque, but way duller than before.

And when you leaned in his arms, you could feel it. His heartbeat, fast in the beginning, probably from the scare, but then rhythmic as it calmed down.

Astarion's arms wrapped around you, pushing you tightly against him as he sunk back in the comfort of the bed.

Your eyes filled with tears, before you could even process the elf in front of you.

"We did it" You sobbed in his tight embrace, relishing the newfound warmth.

"No my love.." He whispered as his own eyes were teary, threatening to spill any second. "You did it" He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "You cured me and I will be forever grateful for this gift" He lulled you, gently tapping his fingers on your skin.

You sobbed harder, your arms wrapping around him as well as you allowed the realization to completely hit you.

You weren't quite sure what day it was, or how long Astarion has been cradling you close to him, but you didn't care anymore.

Only when you finally regained a bit of your control, your head started filling with questions.

"How long have i been out?" You asked, before yawning.

"So.. if i did the math correctly" He counted on his fingers before beaming. "You sleep for a whole week. I fed you and hydrated you as you rested. The wish literally drained you" He gently raised your chin to look at you, a tender smile spread over his face, along with the warmth of a blush.

He took in your beauty, gently tracing the tip of your pointed ear to your cheek, resting his palm on it.

Your body chased the warmth of his touch, leaning into it.

"How long were you asleep instead?" You asked as your body was melting.

"The thing is, I didn't sleep" He shrugged. "Gale gave me a long and boring explanation of what happened, but I'm going to take out all the useless informations he added" He explained, waving his hand in the air. You couldn't help but snort at the remark.

"Anyway, making it quick, you killed me" He blurted out, making you jolt up confused, your mouth hung open and your index finger pointed up as you were about to ask something. Then you curled back your fingers and closed your mouth, thoughtful.

"Basically the cure for vampirism involves killing the vampire and using true resurrection on the body or soul" In a way it made sense, cause a vampire is a dead person turned into undead, reason why restoration spells and curing curses wouldn't be effective. You didn't have to remove a disease either, but revert the body back to its original form. And the only way was true resurrection.

"Oh, cause the spell would be able to bind your soul back to your body completely, reversing death instead of just raising you as undead as vampirism does" You whisper shouted as you connected the dots. "But your death was way past 200 years ago" You remembered.

"I'm glad you remembered how long it's been since my first death" He tucked a stray hair behind his ear. "But apparently that's where the wish spell comes in aid" He kissed the top of your nose.

"It erased the time clause from the spell, since it was a wish" He smiled.

"Mhmh makes sense" You whispered as you tapped a finger on your chin and slowly eased again in the silence.

There was so much you wanted to say in that moment, like the fine print of the spell, whether he could already walk in the sun freely now, how did he feel, and so many more questions about this new story you were going to start together, but your body started growing heavy and thick again, drawing you back in your sleep, but this time you were lulled by Astarion's steady heartbeat.

Hours later you woke up still in Astarion’s lap, though now he was using a magic hand to read a book that you couldn’t quite recognize.

“That’s a very smart use of a magic hand” You stretched your arms, squinted and yawned loudly.

“It is, and this book has been very enlightening as well” He flips pages quickly, getting back to one that had a bookmark.

“Really?” You asked mindlessly as you rested your head on his shoulder.

He nodded, skimming through the page looking for a specific paragraph.

“I always wondered why you choose to sleep every night, aren’t you bothered by the weird dreams?” He asked. He never thought about it until he started reading this guide he found with the wish scroll. It was a book by Mordenkainen himself which spoke of his studies of all the races he encountered. He picked it up to read about what he missed through the decades about his culture and habits, just in case elves grew a new horn at a certain age or something. Dying so young, really cut off a huge chunk of his youth. At the time he was still considered young by his family, he was looking forward to that 100 birthday so much. At least he was glad he kept his youngish self for a little longer than his peers. if that really mattered.

“Mh, no I like them” You mumbled, another yawn escaping between one word and the other. “I found meditating boring, what even is the point of relieving past experiences when most of the memories are negative?” You shrugged, slowly stretching your legs.

“I never thought about that” He was definitely contemplating ditching meditation, if he had to see less of the memories, and more of.. anything but that. He usually slept when you happened to fall asleep next to him, or while you were traveling, and everyone would take their sweet time in the morning. He didn’t need to be up for 8 hours so why not just sleep, he always thought.

“You should do it more often” You smiled at him as you crawled out of his embrace, already missing the warmth of his chest, but you needed something to eat, a whole week asleep really took a toll on your stomach.

The house was still crawling with friends lounging all over, even withers found a corner for himself, in case a resurrection was needed, funny since the conditions of this party, you thought.

Whoever allowed Gale in your kitchen would pay the price. You walked slowly towards the chair in the kitchen, making sure you could hold on to the wall, in case your body decided to be too tired to move.

Gale didn't notice you joined until he turned and unexpectedly saw you sat with your arms crossed, staring stoically at him.

The most satisfying part? The squeal he let out, though it didn't last long. In an instant he was next to you handing you a glass of water.

"How are you feeling?" He asked as he sat in front of you, playing with a peanut he got from your nuts basket.

"Groggy" you mumbled. "Tired" You took your time stretching a little more. "It truly drained me" You leaned on the table wondering what to fill your stomach with.

"I cannot even imagine" He patted your back. "Though actually i could since the netherese orb whole ordeal" He mumbled.

"The price a man must pay to seduce a goddess" You rolled your eyes jokingly.

"Ehy, if you knew Mystra, you'd do the same" He poked your shoulder before handing you a fruit that was laying nearby.

You rose from the table, taking a bite from the apple he gave you. "No, I don't think I would. I'm more the whole I will fix your vampirism I promise, person" You shrugged before taking another big bite.

"I would have never guessed" He laughed.

"Oh so I'm a type, you did this for other spawns?" Astarion chimed while wrapping his arms around you, and placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Yeah, don't you know?" You took the last bite from the fruit before attempting to throw it in the trash. "I've kept a diary with all the names of the spawns I saved" You picked up a piece of paper nearby and scribbled a few names all over the paper, and handed it to Astarion.

"So, we got: Astarion, the annoying one, the mysterious one that almost cut my throat, the one that almost sucked me dry, the one that I recently casted a wish spell for" Astarion counted on his fingers. "Damn that's a lot of people right there, you must be an expert" He joked as he folded the paper.

"Of course, don't you see?" You pointed at yourself, sluggish on the chair. "I'm so good at it, I'm not even tired" You jokingly dropped your upper body on the table, faking to be asleep.

"Well, this is my time to leave the room" Gale awkwardly said before standing up and quickly escaping the kitchen.

"I've got sad news for you, my dear expert" Astarion took the seat in front of you, and took your hand in his, absolutely ignoring your friend. You didn't even wait to raise your head, you were already lost in his eyes. "You don't have all the names of the spawns you freed." He poked your nose.

"Mh, who's missing?" You smiled at him as the sly grin appeared on Astarion's lips.

"You will know in due time"

When was the due time? You had absolutely no clue. A few days passed by, everyone left when they were sure you were at least able to move on your own, and Astarion was remembering his physical needs. For so long he only drank blood, and for most of his life, it was very inconsistent as well, so they just made sure he had all the necessary to stay hydrated and well fed, while you were still recovering.

One afternoon you were sitting outside on the porch, the chirping of the birds and the whooshing of the trees was the only sound around you. You enjoyed the warmth of the sun as you waited for Astarion to join you. You had planned a nice picnic in your garden, so together you could enjoy your first sunset since he was a normal elf again.

Astarion just appeared from the door, mittens in hand as he carried out a tray. You could still see the steam coming from it as you were eager to know what he had been fumbling with in the kitchen.

"My darling, they might look wonky, but I promise you, they are way better than what they seem" He smiled, as he placed the tray on top of the low table you set up outside for the two of you.

They did indeed smell delicious, though the cookies looked like they lost their shape.

You couldn't hold back your smile as you picked one that looked like a disfigured kobold.

As you took a bite of it, Astarion joined you. "Wow that's how you treat our dear Wyll uh?" he asked, trying to not laugh at his own joke.

"That was Wyll?!" You took another bite of it, the look of fake surprise on your lips was adorable.

"Didn't you notice the detail of the fake eye and the horns? I thought it was pretty obvious" He joke-scoffed as he relaxed.

For a moment you couldn't believe this was real: the soft breeze lullying you and Astarion as you had a late afternoon snack together. You no longer had to worry about the sun burning to ashes your other half, or to eat alone, though Astarion always sat at the table with you. You didn't have to worry about excuses or mirrors that wouldn't dare to reflect Astarion's beauty.

Just the thought of mirrors brought you back two memories you held dearly: the night you helped him read his back, and the first time after 2 centuries that he could see himself with his own eyes, rather than through yours.

It was the same night you finally awoke after a whole week. He had waited through that week eagerly, as you recovered. All those things that he lost the habit of doing, he wanted to experience them with you.

So you both stood in front of the mirror, you were behind him, your arms tightly wrapped against his hips and your head on his shoulder, as he stared wide-eyed at his reflection.

"See?" You twirled one of those curls that fell in front of his face. "This is what I mean" you gently twisted his head so he could see better his ear and the way his curls wrapped behind it.

He was speechless as you guided him through all those things you always swore to love, but sounded silly for him.

You even ended up telling him a joke about kobolds and goblins to steal a smile from his lips, just enough you could show him those creases that made your knees like jelly.

But the more he'd look at the reflection, the more he'd notice also the details he always dreaded would forever haunt him: like the bite mark on his neck, so deep that it never healed properly, or the scar he never knew was on his shoulder. It was a cold shower while you were trying to cheer him up, and he was so sad because he thought he ruined such a lovely moment between the two of you, focusing on the wrong details.

The one thing he was truly afraid of though, was looking at the rest of the body, the back in particular, terrified of what gruesome scars might have harbored between his shoulder blades, so he didn't dare yet.

He wore his best smile as he turned your way, placing a tender kiss on your lips before muttering—

"My love, are you alright?" He asked, sitting closer to you, and placing a hand on your thigh, drawing slow circles, bringing you back to your picnic and away from memories.

"Yeah, sorry" You muttered, still half lost in the memories. "I just remembered your smile, and I couldn't stop. '' You said softly, your cheeks warming up at the look on Astarion's face. His eyes were wide and soft, so beautiful as the sunset light started to reflect in them. The now softer red of his irises danced and swirled with the soft shades of pink that twinkled reflected. His lips were turned in a grin that he couldn't wipe away even if the world would be crushing on him. Even his ears had a cute reaction as the tips twitched for a moment.

Lastly his cheeks flushed, a sight that was so unique, as they took the colors of peaches.

He wanted to kiss you now that you were so close, but then his mind connected the dots, and he couldn't help but yelp ever so slightly at the realization.

"My love" He called lovingly, his gaze not leaving yours as you admired him. It was not about the admiring itself, but the love those eyes were shining with. Eyes that twinkled like that only for one, him.

A soft hum was your answer as you just enjoyed the little corner of peace you were sharing.

"In the beginning I thought me and you were like the sun and the moon, destined to chase each other and never meet in the middle. Even before we knew each other, deep down- very very deep down I might point out- I would dream of a love like this, of being rescued by a kind soul that would teach me what I never had the chance to experience." He didn't stop, he poured it all like a river during a high moon. "And even in those dreams, you were a fleeting presence, you'd run around kissing everyone's cheeks, and meeting with me in those small moments when the sun and moon would be next to each other"

You could see the raw emotions seeping through his eyes as he just let it all out, while you listened devotedly.

"I wonder if in those two hundred years, we met accidentally down the roads of Baldur's Gate. If by any chance we stumbled upon each other as we were running for errands. If the universe tried to bring us together earlier but failed over and over again" He sighed, taking a long breath before starting again.

He didn't notice your hand reaching for his and cupping it with your fingers, until the pads of your thumb brushed delicately against his knuckles.

"But then we met, and you were no longer running away. Yet I was so afraid that I ended up being the one who did, and you chased me" He smiled ever so softly.

"I was truly awful to you if I think back. I initially planned to toy with your feelings to have a safety net, and instead I had you there, poking with your dexterous fingers where no one ever did. You came every morning, before leaving camp, to say hi. You offered your neck to me and trusted me, it was so new. All of it."

He unclasped your hand, bringing it to your cheek, and caressing it.

"Then I saw it. We were no longer the moon and the sun. We became the moon and the stars. You were there in all that darkness. You listened to a story that would make anyone weep in pity, and yet you offered me a shoulder to cry on and ears willing to hear. You offered a heart to share the burden with, willing to help me carry it. You were my moon, the light that I couldn't help but yearn for. So I became the stars, lingering around you and taking in all those little things you'd do." He could feel his chest tighten as he went on, seeing the way your eyes would soften by the minutes.

"You taught me all. With you I didn't have to be afraid of being myself, I didn't need to be afraid cause you had my back. I didn't have to charm my way through you, and despite the fact that I could give you nothing, you still managed to patiently give me your everything. You taught me love, something I've never thought I could feel, in any way" He leaned forward, placing a ever so soft kiss on your forehead before sitting back.

You were still there where you leaned as well, your eyes yet to open. Then he spoke again, his voice low yet delicate.

"And I will be forever grateful for it, my love. I will forever be grateful for you to be in my life. I will be grateful of the gifts you made me, giving me a second chance at life" It was something he couldn't fully explain, and neither could you, how naturally you two fit together. How the universe made sure his arms would perfectly wrap around your waist, or how he could shake you like no one ever could. The fates truly took their time threading you two together, and you both were grateful for it.

A calm was between you two, silence filling where words could have been, silence where you allowed your eyes to say it all. Yet that silence was abruptly stopped.

"So my love." He took a long breath, mustering all his love in his heart before gifting it to you. "I was wondering if you'd like to share the night sky with me forever, until the end of time." You smiled, and he swore he saw the universe in your irises.

"I thought it was obvious, my star." You brushed your thumb along his cheek. "I'd cross the nine hells if it meant staying by your side. I'd sail the elemental planes and even at the edge of the universe if it meant to kiss you" You leaned in, your lips barely caressing his in the most delicate and pure kiss.

He hummed, closing his eyes at your warmth, but quickly brought himself back to the reality around you.

"So" He cleared his throat, swiftly reaching into his pocket. "My moon, will you marry me?" His words came out so full, like he wanted to scream the question into the void, and yet so gentle, like he was holding a single flower in his palm, out for you.

Warm tears traced your cheeks as your heart swelled. You wanted to say it out loud, to yell it. Yet the words were stuck in your throat behind the trembling lips as you were so overwhelmed.

Your head did it all for you, nodding before you could control the rest of your body.

Your touch was delicate against his chest, even when you were pushing him to have him lay down.

You towered over him, as you gripped the collar of his shirt, and crushed your lips together.

You poured every drop of you to him, cause you were his and only his.

He didn't let go of you, or of your kiss. He basked in the slow dance you were making together, while the cookies and the ring laid forgotten on the table. You don't know how or when you moved back inside, your bodies still flush against each other, and your lips still tangled.

It was something so harmonious, the way you'd moan in his lips, as he grazed your skin. You were one as you made love over and over again. So tender, slow, emotional.

Sometimes tears would swell on your eyes just for a brief moment as you'd profess your love to each other between those choked moans.

You were truly the other piece of him. The only one that would fit perfectly wrapped around his hips, and still perfect when he'd be tangled in your limbs, coaxing those sweet sounds that drove him insane. You were perfect when your arms held him to you, and perfect when he filled you to the brim.

He wanted to say so many things as you showed him the stars, as his head rested in the crook of your neck while he could feel his body lose control over and over again. For you, with you, in you.

"I'll be yours in every universe" He'd kiss your shoulder.

"L-love you in every life" He'd lock your leg on his hip.

"M-my moon" He'd moan as he'd spill in your warmth.

He was glad they were alone, secluded away from any prying ears, cause all he wanted was to drown in the sweet sounds of the love you'd give to each other.

And then you laid in his arms. Your head pressed against his chest as your bodies grew tired, as your legs were still tangled with his while he'd whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

"I'll never love again the way I love you" He'd let his fingers trace the hills and dips of your body, and for a moment he'd indulge in thoughts he always feared to cross his mind; like his hands cradling your swollen belly, or the tiny life you'd protect with every fiber of your beings. The byproduct of your love asleep in his arms. He dared to dream about growing old by your side, and for a moment he dared to imagine meeting you in his next life, but this time he'd waste no time.

Like that, he'd also forget about that folded piece of paper in his pocket where he added one more name to the list. He wanted to finally uncover the mysterious person you saved: your husband.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 9 ]

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I've been resurrected from the dead once again and have something to deliver? I know; I can't believe it either. Seven more chapters and this series will be complete.

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ SMUT ] + [ GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF VIOLENCE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD & GORE/CORPSE ] + [ BLOOD KIINK ] + [ CANNIBALISM ]

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“Darlin’, I’m home!..”

Alastor halted in the parlor room’s entryway, his blood ice cold, his hazel eyes slightly blown wide with shock, as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hi, honey…” you chirped casually, sounding as cheerful as ever with blood all over you and the body responsible for it lying by the spot you knelt.

Alastor swallowed hard, blinking slowly as his mind established that what he saw was real and not some sick fantasy he’d conjured up on his way home.

You smiled wide at him, giggling nervously at his reaction and ready to explain yourself, seeing the bewildered look on his face.

“I-it’s not what it looks like-“

Alastor dropped everything he held, his coat, keys, and work case, cluttering to the ground so loudly that you went silent in fear of the noise and the implications.

You gulped quietly as he stalked over to you with a purpose in each step, quick, long strides that had your head spinning with anxiety.

Your gaze stayed glued to the ground, too afraid to look at his face. His lack of words did not help your state of mind.

Alastor felt no urge to speak. He wanted to act more than anything, to get a hold of you before any logical thought could cross his mind.

And get a hold of you he did…

“Alastor..w-wait!?..” you yelped softly as your husband towered above you, not hesitating to drag you up from the blood-stained floor with a firm hand around your forearm. You prepared to be handled by him roughly, well aware he’d never laid a hand on you before, but expecting it under such unusual circumstances…

The hit never came…

No, Alastor had just the opposite action in mind for you, eyes burning so brightly through his glasses and smile so wide you wondered if he’d even noticed the dead body next to you.

“Alas- mmph…mmm,” you lost all feeling and comprehension as his lips pressed onto yours, hungry and eager to swallow whatever you planned to say.

His tongue slid into your mouth with ease, searching for yours until it came out to play with his, and never leaving as the kiss dwindled into an intimate mess.

You tried to breathe, thrown off by Alastor’s sudden excitement but reluctant to stop him as he kissed you deeper. His hands traveled up your neck, squeezing it gently until you moaned into his mouth, easing to cup your face gently as drool seeped from the corner of your lips from the action.

You reached for his wrists to ground yourself to reality and hold yourself steady as he leaned into your more petite frame. Alastor couldn’t get enough of you. Driven a little more insane with every glimpse he had of your innocent hands covered in another’s blood and losing it entirely when you stained his skin with it.

Had you done this for him?…

Killed someone for him?…

Put your purity on the line just for his sake?…

I want her…need to have her…. she's just too…fuck…she’s perfect.

Alastor sensed his shadow leering in the low light of the dining room, drooling as desire coursed through his veins, flowing straight to his head and back down to the tip of his cock.

He growled a deep, lonely sound that had your core throbbing in seconds. It grew more intense as he backed you into the table, finally letting you get a heavy breath in while sliding an arm around your waist. “Alastor…please let me-“ you whined quietly, thrown off by the strength he had when lifting you onto the table, slotting himself right between your legs without a second thought.

Your eyes went wide, feeling the firm tent into his pants, an apparent, distinct hardness pressing against your lower half, and not even close to being a misguided illusion on your end.

Was….did this….make him….?

Your body was set on fire as the thought crossed your mind. Your face flushed a deep pink, and your eyes finally drifted to meet his.

Red…

His eyes were blood red. Not an ounce of gold in them.

Not a glimmer of humanity, either.

Alastor’s smile was even less sane and gentler than usual, but it simultaneously felt natural to you.

His expression should have made you feel afraid, unsettled, and disturbed.

It felt impossible to gauge any of those emotions, a perpetual fluttering in your stomach signaling anything but, and it elevated as he chuckled softly.

“I don’t think you understand how lovely you look to me right now, sweetheart….”

Your skin gathered chills as his normal tone dropped several octaves, returning to a drawl you’d heard many times, but it still made you utterly speechless the same way.

The need to speak distanced itself from you as Alastor cupped your face again, thumbs gliding over your blood-stained cheeks ever so gently and his lips inching back towards yours. You refused to move away from his touch, eyes glossing over with want as he handled you like a doll.

“You…killed for me,” he mumbled, amused, far from concerned, and you nodded with a whimper falling from your mouth. “I…I had to. I wanted to…please…Alastor, please don’t..”

Please don’t hate me…

The words felt strenuous, heavy on your tongue, and drowned out by the feverish kiss he used to silence you. Tears gathered in your eyes, relief filling your chest as his hand wandered over you, caressing your curves with deliberate firmness.

He was anything but angry with you, not caring about the blood on your hands, caring even less about the dead woman on the floor.

Alastor had little focus on anything that wasn’t you. His mind was a mess, and his body control was even worse. Your clothes were made a distant memory in mere moments, discarded on the table's messy surface, and only his glasses were placed there with them.

You’d barely managed to get those off him, having to forget to unbutton his dress shirt as he discreetly undid the restraints of his pants and bared his cock against your gleaming folds.

“Hmm..ahh..” you whined at the familiar feeling, eyes sliding shut as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist and wrapped a hand around your throat. The gentle nudge of his tip sliding between your slit was dizzying, quiet sounds of wetness resonating through the room from the teasing action, and body going numb as your walls clenched in anticipation.

Alastor bit his lip, leveling his patience to enjoy the sight of your bare body covered in blood, writhing helplessly to feel him inside you and still gleaning like an angel under the warm golden light.

In his eyes, you could do no wrong and be nothing but perfect, and every fiber of his being knew it.

“Look at me, ma chere,” Alastor choked you harder, watching the blush on your cheeks flare up and your eyes flutter open without hesitation. If he wasn’t already feeling proud of you, the eagerness in your gaze indeed was his last straw, and with little warning, he emphasized that by pushing his cock past your folds with a force that had your eyes rolling again.

“Ah ah, don’t look away, sweet girl. “He groaned lowly, mindful of the twins sleeping upstairs. “Open those pretty eyes for me…”

His hips snapped into yours, rough and demanding, and you shuddered from the effect it had on your womb. The hit was spot on, harsh in all the right ways, and you wanted nothing more than to fall back on the table and enjoy it to the fullest…

However, Alastor’s command was final, and you followed it with little argument. Your eyes peered into his, full of sweetness, and fixated on him.

The blood on your hands had smeared across his face, covering his jaw and neck in your red handprints and streaks of it on his chest and arms. Your stomach flipped at the sight, pleasure pooling there at the thought of him covered in blood during his hunts, “More..” you begged quietly, unsure if you were asking for more blood on him or more satisfaction.

Alastor interpreted the latter, picking up the force of his thrusts with ease and tuning out the world entirely as your creamy walls greedily entrapped his cock. You couldn’t help it; he was never really used to his size and was less experienced with him being so rough.

Your eyes struggled to stay focused, watering with more tears as he brushed up against your cunt’s sensitive areas, abusing them to the point of frazzled nerves. Sweat glistened on his skin, dripping from his temple and down the defined lines of his jaw. You had an urge to lick it off, smiling stupidly at the thought as a string of stifled moans filled your chest.

Alastor huffed at your attempt to be quiet, aware of your reasoning but selfishly wanting to hear you slowly devolve into a fucked out mess no matter the repercussions. You gasped as his hand on your throat forced air from your lungs, a remarkably swift thrust from him pulling a delighted cry from you right after.

You gave him a pleading look, embarrassed but too far gone to stop him from doing it again. Alastor wouldn’t let up, ruthlessly pounding into you even when your weight collapsed on the table. The combination of inhaling spare breaths and the constant bashing he was giving your core made it hard to see, think, and stay conscious.

He held you to his earlier demand, not letting you look away from him even when you fell to lay on the table. You clawed at his forearm, bracing yourself for your impending high and needing to touch him somewhere for a tether to reality when it did

There was that hidden fight in you he’d grown to love, a sliver of darkness you kept hidden to please others.

Alastor was fully aware you only showed that side of yourself to him, cared enough to let it show amid demented pleasure and use it as an excuse to kill for him…

To please and protect him.

“I fucking love you…” he muttered between hushed breaths in your ear, drowning in the feeling of your hands tangling through his dark curls, and you immediately responded in a gentle whisper, “I know….I love you too Al…”

He groaned, a little closer to his edge as your soft voice echoed in his head, morphing into a moan while both of his hands shifted to hold your hips up from the table.

You choked on a scream at the new angle he had you in, losing track of your surroundings as he gave three definitive thrusts before your bodies went rigid together, and a steady stream of mixed arousal leaked from between your thighs.

Alastor smiled against the skin of your shoulder, kissing it gently as an airy laugh fell from his lips, and you shivered at the sound. “So, I take it a home-cooked meal won’t be an option tonight, will it, darling?” He rasped into your ear, and you blushed heavily, remembering the body on the floor, the dinner unfinished in the kitchen, and the utter mess he’d made of you moments ago.

“No... I don’t think so…” you pouted, a little disappointed at yourself but overwhelmed all at once.

Your husband stood to his full height again, gently pulling out of you with a smirk on his lips, seeing the slick seeping from your cunt as he did, “No, worries, dear. I’m sure we can scrounge up something….edible.”

You sat up slowly, following his gaze as it landed on your victim, and your stomach dropped as you made the connection.

“Alastor, you can’t be…“

He hummed cheerfully, already fixing himself up and eyeing you curiously as he did so, “Then I’ll save it for another time, dear. There’s no rush for your first…real meal..”

You glowered at him, flustered by the thought of eating another person, “That’ll never happen, Al. Never.”

He laughed, helping you sit up before placing a chaste kiss on your head, “Ah, yes. You said the same thing about killing. Did you not?..”

Damn it….he’s right.

xxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Planning on going to New Orleans for my 21st birthday in a month. I am so excited because not only am I gonna be able to actually have fun and drink but I'll also get a chance to experience habit of what Alastor's life would've been like. Gathering prime writing material and partying at the same time? I can't wait..!

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette @gasiacos @marvelgirl123 @dinosaur-crime-scene @mo-0-o

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I'm fairly confident that Human Alastor was just another more sociable and charismatic version of Hannibal. Credits to the creator.❤️

[yandere-wishes]

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see. 

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded. 

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back. 

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

 Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown. 

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual. 

You stare frozen. 

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies? 

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat? 

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers. 

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

 It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple." 

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll. 

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today. 

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked. 

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment. 

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine. 

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you. 

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here. 

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll. 

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring. 

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered. 

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm. 

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn. 

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

 Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts. 

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.  

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her." 

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?" 

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to. 

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin. 

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage. 

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself. 

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?" 

 he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space." 

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

 "I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing. 

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin. 

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles. 

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre. 

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices. 

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

[blueskittlesart]

can you expand on your purah thoughts

i've been waiting for someone to ask me about purah since botw came out. im obsessed with her. let's talk about it.

what we know about purah's life pre-calamity is limited, but we do know that she was a sheikah tech researcher in her 20s when the calamity hit. in her diary, she says this about the calamity:

Ganon had been dormant for 10,000 years. Perhaps his power had been building all that time. The slaughter that followed was arbitrary and merciless. The destruction complete. We lost everything... Hyrule Castle, Princess Zelda... Well, perhaps not everything was lost. A youth named Link was brought to me a hundred years ago, covered in wounds and on death's doorstep. Link... So young, yet so courageous. He was the youngest knight to have ever been appointed to the Imperial Guard at Hyrule Castle. He was also a gifted swordsman who was selected as captain of Princess Zelda's personal guard. I thought his skills would be enough to defeat Ganon in glorious fashion... Since ancient times, the royal family of Hyrule and us Sheikah researchers have had a strong bond. Their pain is our own. We took the swordsman and the Sheikah Slate Princess Zelda left behind to the Shrine of Resurrection. Although the Slumber of Restoration had not been fully tested, we decided to put the swordsman under to save his life. It was the best we could do...

What this tells us is that Purah was present and involved in the war effort pre-calamity, and she, like most other hyrulians, bought into the idea that Link was strong enough to defeat ganon. it was only after his defeat that she saw him for what he truly was: a child. "So young," she says. There's a clear undertone of regret in the way she talks about Link and the slumber of restoration. It wasn't fully tested, and she knew that it would likely cause him more pain in the long run, but it was the best she could do. It also implies that she believes Zelda is dead, or, at the very least, unreachable in her current state.

Purah was a researcher of ancient sheikah tech pre-calamity, and one who was very close to Zelda, meaning it's very likely she was heavily involved with the development of the guardians and divine beasts. When this tech was ultimately turned against hyrule and used to decimate their armies, Purah likely felt more grief than most. this was her tech, her brainchild, that was killing thousands of innocents. When link was brought to her, inches from death, covered in wounds inflicted by guardians, she would have known exactly what it was that did him in. For all intents and purposes, she killed him. it was her technology that led to this. Her decision to put him in the untested and potentially dangerous shrine of resurrection is an act of desperation -- not just an attempt to save hyrule from the calamity, but an attempt to prove to HERSELF that her tech is capable of more than senseless violence. that she's capable of saving this boy who she has caused such suffering for.

For 100 years, she has no idea if her gamble has worked. Presumably, it's only after nearly a century of radio silence from Link that she begins working on the anti-aging rune. in her diary, she says:

This technology will enable us to make retired warriors young again, thereby strengthening the Hyrulean army. When Calamity Ganon inevitably returns, we'll be ready. Our offense will be solid, and our defense impenetrable. The need for this tech pains me, but I truly hope to use it to attain everlasting peace for all.

it's interesting, here, the way she equates youth with strength. I think it's likely that, subconsciously or not, she is remembering Link and the other young champions. She believes that they COULD have won the war as they were, if only HER tech hadn't gone haywire. In her mind, the young soldiers and champions she saw weren't doomed until SHE doomed them. With this rune, she is once again clinging to the hope that her inventions will be able to do some good in the war, to somehow make up for the suffering she caused. I think this is also a big part of the reason why she tests it on herself rather than a third party -- she would rather put herself in imminent danger than let someone else suffer the consequences of her actions ever again.

The self-inflicted de-aging is also especially interesting. The way her BOTW diary is written suggests that the anti-aging rune affected not just her body, but her mind, too. there are noticeable changes in the way she writes as her body ages in reverse -- the diary becomes more juvenile and carefree the younger she gets. This is an especially important piece, the fact that she was mentally affected by the de-aging. Before the de-aging process, based on her diary, purah comes off as a very wise, very careful, very grief-stricken woman. Every decision she makes is rationalized and carefully tested in such a way that no one (except her) gets hurt. She looks back on impulsive decisions she made in her youth with melancholy regret -- "I thought his skills would be enough." "it was the best we could do." but she moves forward regardless, attempting at every turn to correct her mistakes in any way she can. "The need for this tech pains me, but I truly hope to use it to attain everlasting peace for all."

And her de-aging rune works. but when she tests it on herself, she accidentally takes herself back to the mindset of a six-year-old child. She remembers what she's doing and why she's doing it, but the wisdom and impulse control and regret that came to her with age and experience have all left her now. She has the boundless optimism of a little girl -- the same boundless optimism that likely led her to utilize the guardians and divine beasts pre-calamity, and with none of the fear of consequence she learned in those hundred years past. When link comes back, she's playful and carefree with him despite her knowledge of who he is and what his return means. She's dismissive of the choice she made to put him in the shrine of resurrection -- when link tells her he doesn't remember her, she says:

"Really?! Well! I'm so shocked I don't know if I'll ever be able to recover from this! Even though, 100 years ago, I took you to the Shrine of Resurrection after Calamity Ganon fatally wounded you... Even though I was the one who put you safely into the Slumber of Restoration... Hmm... As expected. After 100 years in the Slumber of Restoration, subject...has...lost...all...memories. Noted! Oh, sooooorry... I have a bad habit of taking notes rather abruptly like that. It's a charming quirk, isn't it?"

and in her diary:

I can't believe it... Our hero, Linky, has awoken from his 100-year slumber! As expected, he has lost his memory. The Slumber of Restoration... I really should have done a test run on that thing first. Well, live and learn. In any case, he got the ancient furnace working, so now I can start my research once again. Finally!! ☆ Only a truly gifted and heroic swordsman like him could have achieved all that. ♪ Speaking of...this seems like a good opportunity to get him to do some other chores for me too, heh. ☆

All the regret and careful wisdom she spoke with when she was still her accurate age has been replaced with childlike curiosity and mischief. She has, essentially, zapped the war right out of herself. In conversation, she consistently frames this as a mistake, an experiment gone wrong, but I almost wonder if that's truly the case. In totk, she re-ages herself only up into her 20s, the age she was just before the calamity hit, and her diaries reveal that this was a deliberate decision. She decided to put herself back into the headspace of a researcher unburdened by past failures, rather than putting herself back to a true "normal," i.e. her accurate age. I wonder if her regret over what happened in the calamity became too much to bear; if, after a hundred years of not knowing if her final desperate gamble had paid off or if she'd just killed a 17-year-old, she decided to take matters into her own hands and get rid of the guilt. Being the first test subject for the anti-aging rune, she had no idea what the effect on her body would be -- it was an act of self-sacrifice just as much as it was an experiment. Whether the consequences were intentional or not, whether she expected to die, or lose her memory, or nothing to happen at all, taking her life into her own hands with an untested piece of ancient technology was likely her attempt to atone for her sins -- to sacrifice herself to tech she didn't fully understand in the way she'd unwittingly sacrificed so many lives to the guardians during the calamity. the result of the experiment is a little girl with the mind of a seasoned veteran researcher but none of the inhibitions, and while that luckily ended up working out for link, it could just have easily have led him down the path of destruction again.

Ultimately, purah is a selfish character. she chose to put link in the shrine of resurrection in order to prove herself and her tech, ignoring the potential danger to his life. She chose to de-age herself and get rid of her guilt, ignoring the ramifications her experiment could have had on Link and his journey when he woke up. but for all her selfishness, she still cares very deeply for those around her; for her friends, for her family, for the soldiers and princess she lost in the war. She cares so much that she's incapable of dealing with her own guilt over their fates. She is a researcher, and all she knows how to do is make things, so she makes things that she desperately hopes might undo the harm she's caused.

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

🔪🪓 GIVE IT UP FOR I.N.K.!🩸🎤

[TWST AU]: This MC/Yuu/[Reader] may have more than just fairytale magic.

[Synopsis]: In this timeline, MC/Yuu/[Reader] returns back from the “dead” and is ready to unleash their horror-based magic. Also to understand that they were resting for about 30 years.

[Gender Neutral!MC/Yuu/[Reader]]

[TW]: Mentions of murder, blood and horror movie depictions of violence.

[(A/N)]: Hi everyone. It’s been a while since I last posted any content here. Things got busy IRL and also put up some content on my main blog. I’m sorry I didn’t warn anyone about my sudden break. Anywho, I wrote another MC/Yuu variant twisted from Ice Nine Kills (the vibe of the band).

To begin this journey, there is a hidden grave deep in the forest behind Night Raven College. Nobody has visited that very spot as their families have either passed or moved far away.

The etchings of the tombstone reads…

“Here Lies [Y/N]/MC/Yuu [L/N]”

“You Left Too Soon”

“Therefore If A Miracle Happens, Doom Will Be In Tune”

Then one night as the Dorm Sorting Ceremony, a storm occurs with lightning striking down.

Then, a strike hits the unbothered grave, electrocuting the fencing that protected the grave from trespasser and the ground shakes as a resurrection happens.

[The ground cracks open as a coffin unveils its lid and reveals a well-preserved corpse.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: *Yawns from their supposed eternal slumber* That was a long nap…Why am I in a coffin?

[The living corpse leaves their disturbed burial and walks aimlessly out of the forest, unintentionally leading themselves to the NRC building.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I don’t remember much, but this place…

[Then a voice boomed across the hall to grab MC/Yuu’s attention.]

Crowley: *From afar* You! Why are not at the ceremony?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I beg your pardon.

Crowley: *Closing the distance between him and MC/Yuu* I asked what…are…you… *Stops dead at his tracks* You…How?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Old man, I don’t know what kind of ceremony is happening but I remember now. I’m already an NRC student.

[And so, after the ceremony ended, Crowley gathered the Staff members and explained they have a student returned from the dead. They weren’t pleased by this sudden information. In the meantime, MC/Yuu will have to start NRC again as a first year student and they were transferred to the infamous Ramshackle Dormitory.]

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[At the Heartslabyul]

[MC/Yuu was invited by Cater as they joined back the Music Club and the MagiCam influencer thought they were cool.]

Cater: You got a new phone? Need help with anything?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu/[Reader]: I still need help with the apps. How do you find movies on this thing?

Cater: I can teach you.

[Few Minutes Later]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Whoa! You guys released new horror films? It’s been years since I watched one. The last one I seen was some hockey-masked killer.

Cater: *Little concerned* MC/Yuu, when did you stop attending NRC?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Oh. Well…I guess around 30 years ago? Why asking, suddenly?

Cater: That explains why you asked what MagiCam is.

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[During a Dorm Leader meeting]

Riddle: You’re explaining you used to attend Night Raven College 30 years ago?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Yeah, I used to be the president of the Music Club and still well versed in the darker side of magic.

Azul: What kind of magic you possess?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: The kind if you can stomach the macabre world. The goriest parts of that field.

Vil: Necromancy, I presumed?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Sort of. It’s hard to explain about my magic, but all I know is it gets stronger when I perform music.

Kalim: Like it’s your Unique Magic.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Yeah, like that. Crazy how today’s people are using that term.

Leona: Still odd how you came back to life. You remember your old life?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I remember my family used to live on this island and the accident that happened in this school…

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[Chapter 5: During the VDC event and Vil’s Overblot]

[Ice Nine Kills - Welcome To Horrorwood]

Epel: We need to distract Vil-Senpai.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Allow me. I know the perfect song.

[Then the stage is set for MC/Yuu’s performance. They magically summoned a dark dome to cover the entire stadium for the light effects and manifest some pseudo band mates to play the appropriate instruments. Finally, they summoned their cursed electric guitar to fend off the latest Blot battle.]

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: *Starts singing*

Ink fills the page

A classic killer completes the cast

If evil's all the rage

Cut to the close up, then fade to black

Sit back for the sequel of your dreams

All psychos crave more shocking scenes

Who cares if it bleeds beyond the screen?

Are you misunderstood?

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back!

[They casted some powerful spells to weaken Overblot!Vil. The rest of the gang starts throwing their spells at the corrupted Head of Pomefiore.]

'Cause everyone is just so fucking…

Desperate for fame

Can't blame the savages this town attracts

I guess we're all insane (Insane!)

So silence the critics, 'cause this is not an act

(But here's the soundtrack!)

Sit back for the sequel of your dreams

All psychos crave more shocking scenes

Who cares if it bleeds beyond the screen?

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place it pays to be a hack!

(But will you make the cut if you know?)

Stardom's just an afterthought

For all those stabbed in the backlot

Piled up and left to rot

“So how's this for an establishing shot?”

[MC/Yuu shoots another fire spell at Overblot!Vil.]

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place where everyone should

Fear the premiere

There's always a target out on the red carpet

Between 'Silver Screams' something's awakened

And you'll never make it

But enjoy the show!

[They perform an impressive solo-guitar play as they summoned restraints to trap the weakened Overblot!Vil in one place.]

Are you misunderstood? (YEAH!)

Are you more bad than good?

Welcome to Horrorwood

Where anyone would kill for a call back

The tabloids say

"There goes the neighborhood"

But long live Horrorwood

The only place it pays to be a hack

Be a hack!

Welcome back!

[After the song finishes, MC/Yuu holds up their guitar and brutally swings it at Overblot!Vil to dislodge the Blot stone.]

Vil: *Turns back to normal and groans* What happened?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: You kind of went berserk and we had stop you from almost killing everyone.

Vil: I see. My head is aching, however.

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: Uhhh…You probably hit your head during VDC.

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[Back in Crowley’s Office]

Crowley: *Shaken up by day one* I couldn’t believe they’re back…

“Dire, you wanna hang out today?”

“Dire, you forgot the assignment? Fine, just copy mine but change it up a bit.”

“Dire…You’ll regret the day I resurrect from my slumber. Heed my warning!”

???: CROWLEY!

Crowley: *Spooked by the outburst* IT’S NOT MY FAULT!!!

Crewel: Great Seven, you seemed out of your mind lately.

Crowley: Oh, I’m extremely busy, especially since their return.

Crewel: Oh yeah. They seem to be doing well with academics despite having to teach them newer materials. Their magic is what I fear about them.

Crowley: Yes, yes. Their magic hasn’t changed much.

Crewel: Dire, I heard that.

Crowley: It’s nothing. I’m just worried about the students.

Crewel: Uh huh. I’ll leave my reports here. *Leaves the office*

Crowley: *Suddenly scared* What if they remember that day?

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[Cafeteria]

Ace: You murdered someone?!

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I didn’t murder anyone.

Sebek: Then what is this?! *Points at the crimson stain on their shirt*

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: *Wipes it off and taste the content* Oh, ground beef. I was helping Jade and Floyd with some hamburger orders.

Jack: And you just licked it? Won’t you get sick?

I.N.K.!MC/Yuu: I’m undead. Nothing’s gonna harm me, again. *Bites into their extremely rare steak as some myoglobin leaks down from their lips*

[The First Year group felt fear of their new friend.]

✨[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]💫

[chaostroberry1]

Hey just tell us if you're uncomfortable writing the same character again cuz this is akward-😭 (I'M LAUGHINH SO HARD HELPP)

Erm so pookie.. a smut (optional) Beelzebub x Dom!M!Reader where we're basically the Arché Odin trying to revives but ended up falling in love with our little fly which leads to Odin's anger nah cus imagine sacrificing your whole life and preparing a massive Ragnarok against humanity just for the primordial God to be obsessed with your own new found enemy.

Imagine Adamas' and Buddha's face tho 👀

THERE'S JUST SO MANY PEOPLE ASKED FOR HIM— I'M SO SORRY TO BE ONE OF THEM, please ignore this if you're uncomfortable rllyy😭

I went on reddit to read all the theories about arché and damn that was fire. I like this idea a lot 😍 💕 I accept!

Beelzebub × Dom!male!primordial god! reader.

I researched abt the term 'arché' and abt Odin and why he trying to revive broski. So I'll use up all my knowledge on it since I read ROR with an empty head. 😭

The room was full of heavy pounding, cries and moans echoing throughout the huge space. It's been nearly three hours since you guys got into it.

"haaaa...lord (m/n)...." Whimpers came from the mouth of the god, his voice barely audible from the loudness of pounding. You've been switching him into different positions, one of which was a cowgirl position, the one you both are doing currently. His butthole was sucking your cock so greedily, and you he knew that he'd be left with a huge gape after all this was over.

His cries grew louder when you sped up, to a faster pace, having him squint his eyes in pleasure. Tears rolling down his cheeks when you continued to pound his virgin hole.

It's been so long, you don't know how long, but you knew that a lot of time has passed ever since you were dead long ago. But you had been resurrected by Odin, brought back to life, with the purpose of.....what was his purpose? What did he even want from you? Well, you didn't really care. He can't lay a finger on you now.

Odin had expected you to listen to him when he finished ragnarok. But, you suddenly woke up, way too soon. This led to you walking out, and ready to kill. You defied orders, you were not something to be fucked with. That's for sure.

Anyone who entered within your aura's range would feel your sense of authority. Making them know to keep quiet when passing your way, not really like they live long enough to pass by you anyway. But you found out about a certain fighter named Beelzebub, who's match caught your eye. He was powerful, yes, but you were oddly attracted to him.

You? A primordial god. A primordial GOD. Falling for a lower being? Disgusting, that's what others would say. But who were they to tell you what to do? They weren't on your rank. They can't even open their mouth in your presence.

You approached Beelzebub when he was treating his wounds, eyeing him like prey.

"lord of the flies.... Beelzebub, yes?" He looked at you with suspicion, replying harshly. "Who are you?"

He thought you were just someone who wanted to mess with him. Possibly calling him names, or giving sly remarks to get him riled up. But no, you were different.

"that is no way to talk to someone. don't you think? You should be lowering your head in my presence."

He scoffed in annoyance, who was this jerk? Why were you talking to him like that, even after knowing who he was? His thoughts were immediately interrupted when you spoke again.

"it seems you aren't aware of who I am. Lord (m/n). The one and only arché."

Your statement caught him off guard, his heart sinking. There's no way. There couldn't be a way that you were revived so soon—there was still so much time left.

A primordial god was standing right before his very eyes. Staring at him with longing.

"what...? You were already.. resurrected?"

"that's right, pretty insect. Like I said, the one and only."

You must've have been bluffing. There's no way. Did Buddha know about this too? Or was he the first one you approached. His face remained calm when you talk about how much you took an interest in him, an dhow you loved his fight with Nikola Tesla. His head was a mess right now for you to be talking to him like this.

That was until you scratched the bottom of his chin, like he was some stray cat. And he couldn't do anything, because he knew that something bad would happen if he were to defy a being with such divine status. More diving than any god at that.

"say...are you free later? No. I'll just get to the point. I wanna take you as my spouse...you are so beautiful."

He stayed quiet when you held his hand and dragged him around the place, like a child with it's new doll. You were used to acting neutral towards matters, but when it came to wanting something...you couldn't help but overdo yourself. You have destroyed everything on your path when what you wanted wasn't given to you. That's why you were so used to all the good treatment from those afraid to rebel against you. Even the gods were afraid, and knew that you were a threat to them if they ever angered you. Which is why you lived in peace. Before you rested for a long time, soon awakened by Odin.

You brought Beelzebub to some place you deemed fitted for your activities. It was okay if it was outdoors, it's not really like anyone would dare interrupt your session together. Even if they tried, they wouldn't wake up to see another day.

Adamas was walking around, his usual expression on his face before he saw you dragging Beelzebub around. He wanted to call after the lord of the flies, before a sudden dread shook him to his core. The aura that came from you was deadly, and stepping inside it made him feel like at any moment, his head would be cut off. He stayed silent when he saw your eyes narrow, piercing into his own as if it was a good enough warning for him not to interfere.

You loved to bother Beelzebub, it was so fun, there was no point denying it. And he just sits there and takes it so good. You didn't take it to 2/3rd base just yet though. You knew better than that. But you were going to get to it at some point with him.

Imagine how flabbergasted adamas would look when he saw you pounding Beelzebub like it was your last day on earth to tickle your pickle. Outdoors too bro?? Are you okay?? Then we have Buddha, who would just randomly walk in like

"man...these old geezers just won't leave me alone... I want some more of that candy-"

Before he walks in on Beelzebub face contorted in pleasure from how good you were at it. Just bc you were a 'few' years older didn't mean you were slow in these things. You stopped aging when you were around 18-19. So you were specifically still in your youth. Forever in your youth. Which was a bad thing for some.

I bet Buddha just walks out with a "jeez sorry man. y'all shouldn't even be doing this in public-" slowly disappearing after shutting the door. Beelzebub's primal cries echoing out the doors. I think it's best if Buddha just puts a little "do not enter" sign...yeah, that's a good idea.

Bro Odin would be so pissed when he found out you were fucking around with his newfound enemy. He set up the Ragnarok and everything else, just for this moment. Only to find you sticking your pickle into a container...(That being Beelzebub) But hey what could he do? He just has to wait patiently till you were ready to listen to him. Even though you probably weren't.

Continuing to you shifting into another position with your newfound sweetheart, you put him on all fours, before coming in and out of his destroyed bussy. You liked this. You wanted to make up for all that lost time that you missed out on. And you knew exactly how.

"baby I'll cum now okay? Just fill you up nice and good.."

You growled before thrusting inside faster, his moans growing hoarse from how much he'd been at it. It was an addicting feeling that he could get used to. And he started to love it. "(M/n)...lord (m/n) ooh, fuck that's good! Fuck that's sooo good~!"

He cried when you pumped his cock, while still destroying him from the back, taking it out and spilling all that cum on his back. Flipping him again and continuing to fuck him. Your cock tip was so swollen and overused but you liked it that way. You'll fuck and fuck allll day. Make him take it good, just for you.

You took your cock out, before inserting two fingers inside. Receiving a gasp of pleasure when you started fingerfucking him mercilessly. Using his hole like a personal cum dumpster to play and mess with. Before he could cum, you slid your cock back in, licking your fingers before cumming hard into his hole. Filling him to the brim with just seed. Breeding sessions were always so good.

Such a tease you were. Randomly groping his ass or rubbing your bulge on his leg, knowing he wanted it too. But spare some love towards adamas who was in the middle of talking to Beelzebub before witnessing you do such a thing.

The poor guy didn't ask for this, he never wanted to see two gods sexually teasing each other in front of his naked eyes....

[seireitonin]

Can you make Toby headcanons

I can’t believe I haven’t already done this?? He’s literally all I think about lately. Also sorry for the lack of posts life is busy. Anyway! (Some of this will be canon)

“Ticci” Toby Head Canons

Toby was in and out of the hospital all his life

CIPA will do that for you

He constantly had to lie about the bruises he got from his dad while he was in the hospital

He didn’t want to be separated from his sister in foster care

Toby got bullied and outcasted at school

But he also was a bully kinda

The violence he was experiencing at home made him violent at school

He would beat people who teased him bloody

He’s impulsive and cynical but also empathic

He would use his body as a shield against his father to protect his sister and mother

Purposely behaving bad so he would get it the worst, sparing his sister and mother

Slenderman was trying to get both Lyra and Toby to become proxies and Lyra had been experiencing the slender sickness and seeing Slenderman

So she purposely crashed the car so her and Toby would both die, but he was none the wiser

Only Lyra died and Toby has survivors guilt

Not only because he’s alive but because Lyra was a better person in his eyes

She took care of him, she was sweet, she was gentle

Toby was rough, standoff ish, and rude

Toby thinks he deserved to die, not her

Wishes he died instead of her

Slenderman only targeted Toby after that

The hallucinations getting stronger and worse

Him seeing his dead sister

Constantly feeling sick

Toby looked at all his neighbors with jealousy

Why did they get the perfect suburban life?

Why was he given a life of suffering?

Slenderman was breaking him down day after day

On top of all that the abuse didn’t stop

Slenderman was able to take his mind over easily with all that Toby was going through

Toby’s grief, anger, sadness, pain and suffering making him unable to fight off Slendermans influence

The night he killed his father he was under Slendermans control completely

Only snapping out of his trance for a few seconds before being taken over again

He didn’t really want to kill his father but his body wasn’t his

Luckily he was able to snap out of the trance before he hurt his mom

But he still burned the neighborhood down, ready to accept death

Then Slenderman took him in

When he was 19 he acted a bit like the teen he never got to be

Not super upbeat but he was more playful and free

Masky and Hoodie do care about him, just in a rough love kind of way because they didn’t want to see him die

Also he was so young, they know what it’s like to loose your life and mind to Slenderman at a fairly young age

So they trained him hard and kept reminding him that he’s disposable so be careful and not so reckless with his body

Toby’s not only good with hatchets but knives as well

Also good at hand to hand combat and dodging

Has infinite stamina and is really strong and fast

Dated Clockwork from ages 19-24

He died at 25 but was resurrected by Slenderman and became possessed fully (which is another reason why he’s so sickly pale)

Slenderman attempted to make him kill Clockwork, but luckily some of Toby was still in there and he was able to hold back from killing her

She was able to fight him off easily after that but couldn’t bring herself to kill him

But she doesn’t want to see him ever again

The one man she trusted tried to kill her and it was too much for her to handle

Toby was heartbroken for months and killed a lot of people, letting himself become a puppet for Slenderman completely

Toby came to the realization that his body was never his to own

His body belonged to the doctors when he was a kid to experiment on, the shield to protect his family, a puppet for Slenderman to use, even his Tourette’s controlled him sometimes

Toby is bi but leans towards women because women were kind to him all his life

Total horndog

He can be manipulative but honestly it’s not on purpose he’s just scared to loose people

“You shouldn’t leave. You’re all I have. My family is gone. Please. You’re the only thing I love.”

Very clingy with people he cares about

Especially because he knows he’s a lot to handle

His emotions can change very quickly

Since his mind has gotten used to Slendermans influence, his memories come back in full force

He vividly remembers everything that happened to him and will sometimes have breakdowns

The memories come at random times too

He’s full of himself and not insecure at all

Blunt, rude, will say what he wants whenever he wants with no filter but is nice to people he likes

Constantly has bloody and bruised knuckles

Smells like the woods/ outdoors and campfires

Made a promise to his sister when they were young to never be like his dad. So he’ll never hit a woman he loves

Belive she’s not meant to be loved. Everyone who’s loved him has either died or left one way or another

Wears neutral colors to blend in with the forest

Touched starved, due to not getting much gentle touch and affection in his life

Wants a normal life so bad but knows that will never happen

Wants to have kids. He wants to be the man his father never was

Hides his face gash with bandages and gauze when he goes out in public

He’s handsome and he knows it. He uses that charm to lure in/ manipulate his victims

Dark brown eyes and hair and pale pink lips

29 years old

Started dating Nina at 27

Toby is 6’0 flat

Very lanky but his back and arms are toned because of constant axe throwing and swinging

Toby is much more mature now that he’s 29 but can still joke around and stuff

Has scars all over his body not only from his father, but fighting since he was 17

He’s so full of himself and cocky especially when he’s manic

He’s an extremely jealous person and can be very possessive especially over the person he’s dating

He’s just scared to loose anyone

Hes violent as hell when it comes to killing

Very very messy because he’s impulsive and reckless and doesn’t care about getting hurt because he doesn’t feel it

Sometimes will target abusive men and will beat them to death with his fists while looking them in the eyes, smiling

Just because he was manipulated into killing at first doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it now

Because he really enjoys it

Especially when he’s angry or emotional

Still needs constant check ups and has to check for injuries on his body because he can’t feel them

Eats people on occasion. Since he chewed on his hands a lot he likes the taste of flesh

Likes fucking with his victims before he kills them sometimes. He learned that from Masky.

Has nightmares but doesn’t tell anyone about them

Doesn’t drink alcohol often because he really doesn’t wanna be like his dad

Midwestern emo

Looks like his mom. It makes him sad. He misses her.

When he’s by himself he wears grandpa sweaters and loose jeans

Nina is the only other person who can wear his clothes

Anyone else? No way.

Is close with EJ because of the constant medical checkups

Close with Jane too since Nina became friends with her

Actually can cook pretty well since he had to survive on his own a lot

His hair is mid neck and curly because he doesn’t bother to cut it

His beard is prickly and it started growing at 23

Has a bunch of piercings because he can’t feel pain (eyebrows, snakebites, tounge, septum, a bunch of ear ones) he also did it to match with Nina

His favorite food is ramen

His ADHD can make him upbeat and happy sometimes but it doesn’t last long

He likes to sit in the woods by himself sometimes and just enjoy his own company

He has quite the reputation working for Slenderman and all

Masky, Hoodie and Toby are called the triple threat

Hoodie handles ranged combat like guns. Masky is a hard hitting melee fighter, using crowbars, bats etc. Toby can do both by throwing hatches and using them in hand to hand combat. But he can also use his fists.

That’s all I got 4 now I’ll make a part 2 when I can remember more. Also this isn’t proof read sorry :3

[anxious-witch]

Some thoughts on Edwin through the lenses of flaws and sexuality, specifically connected to his meetings with the Cat King and what metaphors I think are cleverly used through the offers he makes to Edwin.

Part 2, because part 1 got too long. Also, as I was reading @manicpixiedreamedwins 's analysis on loneliness through the lenses of queerness here, I realized we might have some overlapping points. And it is an amazing analysis so you should also definitely read that.

Anyway! Onto the actual analysis.

Before we get to their meeting, let's acknowledge what happened in between their meeting in the forest and the meeting in the alley.

Cat King first, because that will be a shorter explanation. After Edwin goes back to hell, we see the Cat King holding a bracelet-the same bracelet that we established quite literally represents Edwin's repressed attraction to men. The same symbol Edwin threw in his face in their meeting in the forest. "This is all that you are", he said. And then we see as the bracelet dissolves. Why? Because Edwin was ready to accept his attraction to men! He was ready to confess to Charles even before he went to hell. Which made his shame around his desire for the Cat King dissolve(we'll get back to this later), and we see Cat King stare sadly as it dissolves.

I also think that during his scene with Esther, we get to see Cat King's true desire for the first time, which is one for companionship. Sure, he hinted at it before, on the cliff, "Because it gives me more time with you", but Edwin, and by extension, we as the audience, assumed it was a matter of sexual desire. But here, when he talks to Esther, when he reveals how much he admires Edwin's resilience and how he will wait for him, he finally stop hiding behind his flaw and reveals his desire. What flaw, you may wonder? Selfishness, we could even call it self preservation, but also yes, he is most certainly selfish. He is a cat, after all. Animal instincts makes us all selfish. And despite all his talk about desire, he much like Edwin, hides his desire behind his flaw. He plays woth Edwin, while not giving himself away, but he is enticed by Edwin because they are so alike.

And what happens once he admits his desire? He dies and gets resurrected, as a more somber, perhaps we can even say more mature version of himself. A version that later offers information about Esther to Niko and Crystal. Because for all his bravado, he is now aware that what he desires is companionship and for that, he has to risk something. (And before anyone says "he didn't risk anything, if they lost, Esther wouldn't have found out he gave her away" and. Really? A powerful witch rulling the entire town wouldn't know? Give me a break).

Now, back to Edwin. Edwin goes through a whole transformation. But I would love to firstly point out how, when Edwin was ready to confess, aka when he accepts his feelings/desires fully, he gets sent back to hell, mirroring how when the Cat King accepted his desire/feelings for companionship, he gets killed by Esther.

Why? Because when we admit what we truly want, we need to battle our demons(literally or figuratively) because we are afraid of it. And if we do so successfully we transform because of it.

As for Edwin, he quite literally goes to hell, he sees his worst fears. But what I think makes it so powerful is that he doesn't get out alone again, or even due to some divine interface (if we do not count the Night Nurse), but because Charles comes and saves him. Shows him the way that Edwin himself once created.

Whenever you see their relationship as platonic or romantic, the message is clear. Edwin couldn't didn't have to find his way out on his own. Because Charles was there to help guide him. And when we talk about lust pulling Edwin back, I have seen few people say "oh, it's because he felt lust now, but his love for Charles is pure and that's what gets him out" and I have to politely disagree? Because let's remember, hell in the Sandman universe works is through shame. Through people believe they deserve to be punished for what they did, regardless if they actually deserve it or not. So as such, I think Edwin gets pulled back by his old beliefs for a moment, telling his that his desire, his lust is a sin worth of punishment.

And then Charles, one of the objects of his desires, sees him and pulls him out of it. And due to all the development and acceptance Edwin went through before that point, he goes with him. Because there is nothing shameful about wanting someone, be is romantically or sexually.

Which is why Edwin's confession after that is so impactful! He accepted, and then he uttered it out loud. Because he couldn't be transformed without admitting it! And what does Charles do? He accepts him. Which is another reason why I'm glad he didn't immediately return his feelings. What Edwin really needed in that moment was to be accepted for all his flaws and desires and taken out of the environment that created shame around it. And that's exactly what Charles did.

So. With all that said, let's go back on track aka the alley meeting between Edwin and the Cat King. The Cat King(or one of his cats?) knocks on a window to get Edwin's attention. What a change from him getting scratched in episode 4! Because their connection is gentler now, and there is a degree of respect. Asking for attention instead of demanding it.

And Edwin comes willingly. There is no bracelet forcing him and when the Cat King appears to give his condolences for Niko's death, it truly feels like meeting of equals. What is interesting is that Cat King looks sort of demure here. He attempts to reels Edwin in with his desire twice. I believe he knows something shifted because what is the first thing he offers? A hug. Now, it seems like he expect Edwin's rejection, so it's mostly a moot attempt. But then Edwin says: "I think I understand you better now." And the switch immediately flips into Cat King's flirty persona. Sure, the newfound gentleness is still there, but the way he leans closer and says "Oh, tell me all about me." Certainly plays into Edwin's reaction. He needs Edwin to react to have power.

But then Edwin calls him out on his desire. "You are lonely," he says, and then proceeds to point out how the Cat King hides that loneliness with his toys, amusements and flaws. Because what does a selfish person do? Picks up a toy while it amuses them and then discards them, disregarding the feelings of others. Again, drawing parallel to Edwin's own flaw. But then Edwin goes further and says "we are both lonely" acknowledging those similarities. And the Cat King? I don't know how else to describe his look but adoration. He feels seen, in god knows how long. And Edwin does the same thing Charles did for him. He accepts him and forgives him. You matter, no matter your flaws. You can stop the game now, because I accept you and I accept myself.

The Cat King is there to be a mirror. To show Edwin's desires and flaws. To make him face it. But when Edwin does, the mirror disappears. The Cat King is left as he truly is, with nothing to hide behind, no offers left to make. Especially when Edwin tells him "there are 147 cats in Port Towsend". Proving he overcame his disregard for others. And when the Cat King corrects him, Edwin in turn says "you forgot to count yourself".

You forgot to take into consideration yourself. Your own desires. Edwin won. Not only their little game, but he is the one holding power now. Which is why I found it odd that some people still found Cat King a villian after that. He cannot be one. He has no offers that can sway Edwin. If he appears again, the only thing he can offer Edwin is the truth and companionship, in whatever form that may be. Personally, I'd love to see them as friends at least. I think they have such understanding of each other now, it would be interesting to watch.

Anyway! Thank you for coming to my ted talk, I think that's all. If you have anything to add, comment, etc please feel free to!

[fritzmonorail]

An abridged guide to Morph

Spoilers for X-Men 92/97

I feel like people who only watched X-Men 97 don’t quite understand all that Morph went through, why it makes sense that they would have such strong feelings for Logan, and why it was so incredibly rewarding to watch them mock decrepit Mr Sinister after Jean took away all his stolen dna.

Morph went through a lot in the original series. They were killed by a sentinel in the beginning of the 92 series, Something that Logan takes the hardest. It’s clear that they were close before Morph’s death with Logan remarking that they where “The only one that could ever make me laugh”

Morph is later resurrected by Mr. Sinister who controlled them and used them as a weapon against the X-Men.

Through all of this the one person who never gave up on them, who always went after them, and who even when they lashed out in anger let them know that he would always be there for them was Logan.

Eventually Morph managed to overcome Sinister’s influence and return the X-Men. They would then spend most of the remainder of the series recovering on Muir Island as they were traumatized both by sinister and their near death at the hands of the Sentinel. They briefly returned to the team but realized, after becoming paralyzed with fear during a mission, that they weren’t ready and left once again for further treatment. Logan and Scott made sure to visit him when they could.

Morph would remain there until the final episode when they would return to help the X-Men with a dying Charles Xavier.

[tossawary]

Thinking about two (three?) different "Rin Lives" AUs for "Naruto" in very different styles.

The first (Option 1A) is, of course, the classic where Rin survives having the Sanbi sealed inside her instead of having Kakashi kill her (while Obito watches). I can't exactly call Zetsu's sinister plan here unreasonable, but it does still rely heavily on a bunch of relatively unpredictable elements.

With Obito as a hostage, Zetsu has relatively intimate information on Rin, Kakashi, and Minato, but by that point, it's like a year out of date. What if Rin, Kakashi, and Minato have all been significantly changed by Obito's apparent death and have adjusted their techniques and procedures? The plan relies on 1) neither of Namikaze Minato's students (who also know Uzumaki Kushina and Jiraiya of the Sannin) having sufficient sealing knowledge to hold out long enough for help to arrive, 2) the YELLOW FLASH to be fully distracted and occupied while this is happening, and 3) Rin dying in such a way that it looks like Kakashi's fault. (Also, 4) no other Kiri nin catching on and having issues with all of this.)

Again, it's not exactly unreasonable that all of these elements came together in a tragedy, but also still too reliant for my liking on all of these different moving pieces who could potentially pull out skills and escape plans that Zetsu hasn't foreseen. I'll need to reread that part to figure out why clones / genjutsu weren't just used to fool Obito, who wasn't exactly in a good state to resist that kind of manipulation. (Itachi used Tsukuyomi on Kakashi at least once. Obito is under severe physical, mental, and emotional strain and only awakened his Sharingan directly before his kidnapping. He's so vulnerable.)

Option 1B for this AU, a twist on the classic, is that nothing about this mission was real. The Sanbi was never put inside Rin. Zetsu or Madara fooled a vulnerable Obito with a trick / gaslighting, and Zetsu has been desperately struggling to kill Nohara Rin for years to get her out of the way before a grieving / vengeful Obito notices that Rin isn't actually dead. This AU probably takes place before Minato's death. Kakashi and Minato have caught on to some attempted murder mystery going on here and they are SO overprotective.

OPTION 2 for a "Rin Lives" AU is actually a "Rin gets resurrected" AU. Obito catches on earlier that Madara and Zetsu are full of shit, but Obito still isn't exactly sane after everything, so while Obito has Rinnegan superpowers in the middle of the final fight, he throws Madara and Zetsu's plan out the window and somehow uses a stolen / modified version of Orochimaru's Edo Tensai technique to bring Nohara Rin fully back from the dead. Obito says a big "FUCK YOU" to all of those long conspiracies and wastes all of that ultimate power on fully resurrecting some random nobody girl he loved as a young teenager.

So, it's like: "Your name is Nohara Rin and you are no longer dead. You were turned into a bomb and killed yourself when you were 14 to save your village, and now you've been resurrected as though you never died; you're not exactly 14 anymore after the dreamy time you spent watching the world of the living, but you are definitely not actually 31. It's weird.

"The teammate you once thought was dead was actually kidnapped by two different madmen and has spent the past 15 years with them molding his body and whispering in his ears, only to betray them anyway. His hands are covered in so much blood and he's started a war and it was all apparently a trick to bring you back. So everyone is looking at you, shocked, and confused, because you're not special. All of that? For you? For some random dead girl? They were ready for the world to end. Obito is looking at you, satisfied, expectant, like you're supposed to have any answers or any kind of comfort for him.

"Minato-Sensei is here too, undead in a different way, not alive again like you are (at least, like you think you are), and so is Kakashi, all grown up the hard way. They are looking at you like a miracle and also like you're breaking their hearts all over again. And oh, no, Uchiha Madara and Zetsu are very, VERY mad right now, there's no time for any of this, is there? You died in one war and it's right back into another."

[running-with-the-feels]

Okay, so, I had to reread some of the mkx blood ties comics as research for a fic and:

Kuai Liang had just woken up, when Raiden sent him after the Kamidogu.

Like, it's never outright stated, but the implication is that Kuai Liang has literally just been resurrected. He's waking up after being a revenant for the first time since having his humanity restored.

And he's awake for all of 2 seconds before Raiden sends him on that sidequest.

Which, I mean, I hadn't forgotten that (for all that I choose to ignore it for the sake of Plot) but it still slaps me in the face every time.

Because that's pretty fucked up, right?

Kuai Liang's literal entire family is dead, he has nothing and no one left, has Just woken up free to think his own thoughts for the first time in actual years, has woken up From A Nightmare about being controlled by Quan Chi

And Raiden sends him after the Kamidogu while he's still trying to catch his breath

This is made all the worse by the fact that it is further implied that Hanzo got given a Kamidogu to protect around the same time, which would have been before Takeda joined at about 8, and when Hanzo and Takeda are sent (BY RAIDEN) after a possessed Kuai Liang, Takeda is a teenager

Which means that Kuai Liang was going after the Kamidogu for years, and given his skill, it wouldn't have taken him all of those years just to locate it, it would have taken months. A single year tops.

So he was probably possessed for years.

And the comics explicitly tells us (if I remember correctly, if I don't then they Heavily implied it) that Raiden knew Kuai Liang was possessed the whole time. But instead of sending help, Raiden sent Hanzo, who had just lost his entire clan AGAIN, and was fully ready to kill Kuai Liang, which Raiden would have to be a moron to not see coming.

I don't have a point to this rant, I just wanted to point out the fact that Kuai Liang has literally never gotten a single break in his life

[nevadancitizen]

-> YOU'RE OUT OF TOUCH – I'VE BEEN OUTTA TIME

synopsis: you died six months ago, but you've come back to haunt johnny. not as a ghost, no – as some twisted version of you that johnny still loves. too bad you don't still love johnny, or remember him in any capacity.

word count: 4k

characters: john "soap" mactavish, resurrected! reader

trigger warnings: talk of canon-typical violence, temporal weirdness, hurt + damn near no comfort

notes: first soap fic.. hopefully i've written him well!! also i couldn't resist incorporating madness combat in this somehow lol it's taking over my life (you don't need to know anything about madcom to read this, don't worry). also tumblr user nevadancitizen using the amnesia trope again? it's more likely than you think.

Somewhere in Nevada, a battered body is denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse…

And six months ago, somewhere in Russia, you were killed in action. 

It was a single shot through the skull – nice, clean. You didn’t suffer. Despite your killer more than likely being a terrorist (or working for one), they did you right. It was probably unintentional, but they still did you right. 

Johnny couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed, even to piss, for weeks after. He was completely numb to almost everything. The world passed by while he stood completely still, laying on his side in your shared bed, spooning a pillow that was rapidly losing your scent. 

(He even tried spraying it with your perfume or cologne, but it didn’t work. It was too strong – it didn’t smell like when you wore it.)

Johnny thought all-too-often about what happened after death. He was ready to die, always has been, but he never really thought about what would happen if (or, more accurately, when) you died. He always cast those thoughts away, because he was done losing people. He was done with grief and screaming, pleading to God, and crying so hard he threw up. 

But he eventually returned to his job. He eventually put you to rest. He prayed for the first time in damn near two decades that, if there was really an afterlife, that you were in Heaven.

(He just hoped that, whatever Heaven there was, it was good enough for you.)

But again, six months ago, somewhere in Nevada, a battered body was denied death, so that it may be granted, en masse.

It is a land without sun, without warmth unless you could find it in another body. It is a land without rules, without remorse, without regret. 

It is a land of violence. It is a land that fits you well.

Despite being dead, you were sewed back together and cursed to live once more. Someone put a gun in your hands and told you, “Listen bozo, I don’t care where you’re from – just shoot!”

Of course, Johnny didn’t know this. How could he? He watched your casket be lowered into the ground. He knew it wasn’t empty – he had to confirm your identity in the morgue. 

But he can’t help but feel his stomach drop when Kyle comes rushing into his office, pointing behind him and, in a panting breath, says your name. 

Johnny immediately springs up from behind his desk and almost pushes past Kyle to get out the door. He turns down the hallway to the left, where he knows it leads to the hospital ward. 

“No, Soap – Soap!” Kyle sprints after him, just barely catching his wrist. “Wrong way, man.”

Johnny stops and, in his stunned state, lets Kyle lead him down the hallway to the right, away from the medbay, away from where you were surely waiting for him, recovering.

Kyle leads him into an elevator, scans his keycard, and presses the button for -3. They’re both uncharacteristically quiet. It just faintly registers in Johnny’s mind that the floor -3 is below the parking garages, past where anyone typically goes. 

(Past where anyone can hear screams ripped from tortured throats, really.)

When the elevator doors open, Soap’s greeted by a familiar sight. It’s a grey concrete hallway, with two soldiers on either side, guarding the way in. Doors line the hall, each one steel with a keypad to unlock it.

Gaz leads Soap down the hall and doesn’t stop for a while. Eventually, he stops in front of the last door and takes a deep, almost shuddering, breath.

Gaz inputs the code into the keypad and opens the door, nodding at the inside. “Come on.”

Soap, almost so quick he clips his shoulder on the doorframe, goes into the room. It overlooks an interrogation room, and it’s fit with a double-sided mirror, recording tech, everything.

Soap freezes when he looks into the interrogation room. It – it’s you, but… not you. You’re pacing, and Johnny can only stare. There’s a grey flush to your skin – no, your skin is actually grey – and bandages cover the back of your head, dirty and frayed, like you haven’t changed them in a while. 

You’re angry, a far cry from the person Johnny knew you to be. Sure, you could be angry, and Johnny’s seen you angry, but this…

You’re panting as you pace, fists clenching and unclenching as your eyes dart around the room. Soft mutters and expletives leave your mouth as you look around, surely looking for a way to escape. 

Johnny just keeps staring. You’re… alive? Yes, you’re not what Johnny remembers you to be, but you’re still alive. 

“Fucking – goddamnit!” You bang your fist on the steel table, causing it to rattle. “I don’t have anything to tell you! You’re all cowards –” you turn to the double-sided mirror and point at it “– especially you, Sheriff! Don’t tell me you’re not back there!”

You immediately turn away, your hands coming to clutch at the sides of your head, your fingers digging into the bandages, almost ripping them. “I swear, when I get my hands on you…!” 

“We don’t know what to do,” Kyle says softly. He looks over at Soap, his gaze obviously sad and sympathetic. “Do you want to try ‘n talk ‘em? Even if they’re feelin’ a tad… neurotic.”

Johnny can’t rip his gaze from you as you throw a steel chair at the wall, still cursing out someone named Sheriff and his lackeys. The chair bounces off the wall and one of the legs hits your shin, causing you to curse it out, too.

“Yes,” Johnny says quickly, decisively. 

Soap shifts on his feet, oddly impatient, as he waits for Kyle to unlock the door to the interrogation room. As soon as he does, Johnny shoulders past him and into the room. He hears a faint click as Gaz closes it behind him. 

You immediately whirl on Johnny, your eyes wide and your breath labored. 

“You!” You point at Johnny like it’s meant to be some offensive gesture. “What do you want?”

You move closer, and Johnny catches sight of the dogtags hanging from your neck. You were buried with one, and he kept the other. He even gave you one of his own because, on that day, a part of him died with you. But… instead of two, you have four hanging from the metal chain. 

You shove your finger in Johnny’s chest, your fingernail digging through the thin fabric of his fatigues. “Answer me!”

Soap immediately takes your wrist and cradles your hand to his chest. “Bonnie, please, calm down.”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you bark, ripping your hand away from him. “I just lost one of my team and you’re telling me to calm down?!”

“Your team?” Soap echoes.

“Deimos!” you snap. “You – you killed Deimos.”

You take a step back, your fists still clenched and your eyes still angry. “I saw your stupid fucking Engineer murder him. He was dead from the first five bullets, and you know he knew that! But oh, let’s just make sure he’s dead by unloading clip after clip into him.”

You heave a breath, almost growling. “Let’s desecrate his corpse. All because he’s a dissenter. Let’s make it oh-so-hard to bring him back.”

Johnny steps forward, just barely moving his foot, and you jump back like he took out a knife. 

He breathes out your name, soft and unbelieving. “Are… is it really you?”

“Of course it’s me!” You turn and rest your hands on the steel table, obviously resisting the urge to bring your fists down against it. “Always has been, always will be. It’s always me.”

Johnny circles around the table and leans down a little, taking in your face. The grey makes you look dirty and unwashed, like you’ve got a layer of dirt on you that you couldn’t wash away.

You look up at him through your eyelashes. “I know you.”

Johnny’s heart leaps into his throat and, for a hopeful moment, thinks that you remember him, that this is all some sort of stupid trick, that you went MIA instead of being KIA, that this is really you. The you Johnny knows, the you Johnny loves. But his heart is crushed beneath your boot when you speak next. 

“I know soldiers like you,” you say softly. “Soldiers, produced en masse, told to shoot first and die quietly. We’re both clones, you know? But there’s a difference in what we want.”

You stand up straight, glancing at the double-sided mirror before turning your eyes back to Soap. “You follow orders. When they say jump, you ask how high. But I…” you laugh beneath your breath. “I am fighting for change. Normality. You’re comfortable living in this… this chaos.”

“Bonnie, what are you on about?” Johnny reaches across the table, trying to take your hand. You snatch it away before he even comes close.

Gaz slides into the room, holding a tablet. You whip your head around and glare at him. 

His eyebrows lift a little, and he raises the tablet, as if in a defensive manner. “Your tablet. It –”

You snatch it from Gaz’s hands before he can talk again. You set it down on the table and stare at it, waiting.

Johnny can just barely see the interface. The top of the screen reads COMBASIC .9(beta). It looks like some sort of chat room. A few messages pop up in quick succession.

FellowD9: GOTEM FellowD9: YOU WERE RIGHT FellowD9: HE WAS COMPLIANT 2BDamned: Neat FellowD9: CHECK MY SECTOR FellowD9: ANCHOR HIM NOW [user:FellowD9 IS OFFLINE]

The messages seem to relax you, even if Johnny has no idea what they’re talking about. You bring a hand to your forehead and laugh breathlessly, then set to typing.

CrosshairF6: lol hey im still alive CrosshairF6: aahw assholes gave me my tablet idk why CrosshairF6: check my sector & get me back 2BDamned: Getting Deimos right now, I’ll get back to you CrosshairF6: better do it right CrosshairF6: saw his corpse, looks like he ran through traffic [user:2BDamned IS OFFLINE]

Johnny watches as you tuck your tablet back in one of the inner pockets of your jacket, casting a suspicious glance at Gaz, like you expect him to take it back. 

Gaz raises his hands and slips back out of the room, leaving you and Johnny.

“So.” You look at Johnny. “Why are you trying to act all buddy-buddy with me?”

“You’re… you were…” Johnny sighs, an overwhelming feeling settling in his chest. “Do you remember… dying?”

“Of course,” you say, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “2B brought me back.”

“2B?” Johnny echoes. “Like, the one you were talkin’ to? 2BDamned?”

“Yeah.” You move and lean back against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s all doctor-like, y’know? Brings us back when we need it.”

“And he’s… on your team?” Johnny asks. He feels a deep pang of… something in his chest when the thought of you actually being on another team, separate from him, settles in his mind.

You nod. “Yeah. 2B, Hank, Sanford, Deimos.” You tap the dog tags resting against your chest. “We’re a team. Some of us are on a subteam, but still. We’re a team.”

Johnny blinks hard, shaking the thought from his head. “Do you remember anything before you died?”

“Some, but… not a lot. Just blips of fighting, some soldiers, then Nevada.” You shrug. “2B says that happens sometimes.”

Johnny feels his tense shoulders relax, if only a little. “Any one specific soldier, bonnie?”

“No,” you say. You look away and fiddle with your dogtags. “But I’ve got the dogtag of someone named John.”

“John?” Johnny echoes, his heart picking up in his chest. “John ‘Soap’ MacTavish?”

“Yeah.” Your gaze fixes on him again, immediately suspicious. “How do you know that?”

“That’s me, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly, moving towards you. He makes sure to stay slow and cautious, just in case. “I’m Johnny. Your Johnny.”

You move along the wall, away from him, just slightly. You seem to bristle a little, and bring your shoulders up a bit. “You’re not mine. I don’t own anyone.”

“Not in the literal sense, bonnie,” Johnny laughs, resisting the urge to trail after you. “I’m yours, romantically.”

You bring yourself off the wall, taking a step back. It’s like you’re repulsed by the idea. “I’ve never been romantically involved with anyone. You think I’ve got time for that?”

It’s like Johnny’s been punched in the gut. Tears well in his eyes and he suddenly feels so fucking sick. His feet almost come out from under him as he stumbles to the door, shaking hands putting in the code before slipping out. 

He could take the idea of you maybe not remembering him, sure. He could just re-introduce himself. He could take the idea of you forgetting the time you’ve spent together, because you’d remember, right? But the way you were disgusted by the idea of romance, the vitriol in your voice as you spoke…

Johnny doesn’t like the word ‘relapse’ because he thinks it holds too heavy of a connotation, but that’s the best way to describe what he did for the rest of the day, and into the early hours of tomorrow. He rotted in your shared bed, but instead of feeling numb, he felt his heart being wrenched by your hand, by your words. 

He just laid there, looking at his sketchbook – a good one with thick paper. The one you’d gifted him for your six-month anniversary. It’s filled with drawings of you: candid ones, ones where he had you pose (even though you were embarrassed), ones of you and him, together, doing couple-y things. 

He could only mourn what was lost, because you seemed to have absolutely no interest in recovering it. 

A week passes before you’re able to be let out of your cell. You slowly lost the fire and brimstone that filled your heart as you realized that the 141 really did want to help you. You feel better now that you have a few people by your side, fresh bandages, and a renewed sense of comfort.

(But you forgave yourself for acting like that in the beginning because, in Nevada, no one is nice. Not without an ulterior motive, at least.)

You’re practically on a leash as Ghost leads you throughout the base. He doesn’t talk as he guides you through winding hallways and up an exhaustive amount of flights of stairs. 

Eventually, he opens a door labeled ‘ROOF EXIT.’ He tilts his head towards the door.

“Someone waitin’ for you,” Ghost says gruffly. “And…”

He fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a carton of cigarettes. Your cigarettes. 

Ghost takes your hand and puts it in your palm. “Don’t set anything on fire.”

You close your fingers around it and nod. “Got it, boss.”

Ghost starts back down the stairs, leaving you and the open door to the roof. You move through it and look around. 

Johnny’s sitting, cross-legged, on the concrete roof, facing away from you. It’s dark – obviously, it’s night. You look up and take in the stars, and…

“You have a moon,” you say softly.

Johnny looks back at you, a tentative smile on his face. Like he’s scared to be too hopeful. “Yeah. We do.”

You hum and look at Johnny. 

“Do you…” Johnny glances at the floor, then back up at you. “Do you wanna sit with me, bonnie?”

You slowly move over to Johnny and sit by him. You keep a healthy distance, but you’re still closer than you’ve ever been to him before. 

“Those fags for sharin’?” Johnny asks, a teasing smile on his face. 

You look down at the carton of cigarettes in your hand. You grip them a little tighter, causing the thin carton to crumple a bit. “Sure. Don’t know if you’ll like them, though.”

“Nonsense, bonnie.” Johnny bumps his shoulder against yours. “Let’s give ‘em a go.”

You smile and take out two cigarettes. You hand one over to Johnny. They’re hand-rolled and don’t have a filter, so they look more like joints, but the overwhelming smell of raw tobacco quickly quells that thought.

“Got a light?” you ask.

“‘Course.” Johnny reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small lighter. He lights his own cigarette, then pulls it away with a sputtering cough. 

“Steamin’ Jesus, what is that?” He asks in between coughs. 

You laugh, hitting your knee as Johnny reels from the taste. “It’s good, yeah?”

“Hell no!” Johnny wipes tears from his eyes and looks over at you. Despite his coughing, a soft smile spreads across his face at the way you’re laughing – loud, unabashed. Just like before.

You swipe Johnny’s lighter from his hand and light your cigarette, the cherry basking your face in a soft, warm glow. “Welcome to Nevada.”

“Let’s see that thing.” Johnny reaches over and takes the carton from your hand.

He turns it over, looking at it. The carton is worn, like it’s been refilled many times. There’s no warning about nicotine being an addictive chemical, just a grey box with a simple brand: G01 Choice. There’s a name scribbled on the back – Deimos, in all capital letters. 

“Deimos,” Johnny says aloud. “The man died and you stole his cigs?”

“He’s not dead.” You take the carton back and tuck it into your jacket pocket. “Not anymore. Well, he’s died lotsa times, so I guess he’s an... honorary corpse.”

“An honorary corpse,” Johnny echoes, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. He puts it out on the concrete. “Just like you, yeah?”

You take a drag off your cigarette and blow out the smoke in a single, smooth stream. “Just like me.”

A silence settles as you look up at the moon. You can feel Johnny’s eyes occasionally flitting to you, then back up at the night sky. 

“Your dogtags.” Johnny points in your direction. “Whose are they?”

You look down and tug on the metal chain, causing them to clink together. “Mine, yours, and my team’s.”

“Your team?” Johnny asks softly. “You never told me about them.”

“Yeah.” You look over at him. “I’m part of an extraction team. My partners are Sanford and Deimos.”

A pain, almost so real he thought he was actually injured, runs through Johnny when you say partners. The logical side of his brain chides him a few moments later because you obviously meant it in a militaristic sense, not a romantic sense.

“Can I see them?” Johnny asks.

You nod and take off the chain, then hand them to Johnny. He looks at the dogtags – he recognizes his and yours as being standard military dogtags, but Sanford and Deimos’ are much more… odd.

Sanford’s reads SANFORD / MELEE + EXPLOSIVES / G02 (NEG) / RETURN TO FAMILY. Deimos’ reads DEIMOS / FIREARMS + TECH / G02 (POS) / NO FAMILY. 

Johnny tilts the dogtags so that you can see them and runs a finger along the lettering. “What do these mean, bonnie?” 

You move a bit closer and lean in. “The first lines are their names, obviously. The second is what they’re proficient in. The third is what generation clone they are, and their blood types – there are only two blood types for second generation clones. And the last one is what to do with their bodies if they can’t be revived.”

“Wait, bonnie.” Johnny laughs breathlessly. “Clones?”

“Yeah, clones.” You tilt your head a little to the side. “What, you don’t have cloning technology here?”

“Of course not!” Johnny laughs.

You laugh and bump your shoulder against his. “You people are so primitive.”

Johnny smiles back at you and it’s like nothing is wrong. You both go quiet as you stare at each other until you look away.

“I, uh…” you clear your throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry for being so… abrasive. Earlier, I mean.”

“It’s alright,” Johnny says, almost too quickly. 

You scratch your cheek and glance over at Johnny, then away. “But it’s not, is it? I should’ve handled things better.”

“Someone you know died right before we talked.” Johnny reaches over and, cautiously, puts his hand over yours where it rests on your knee. “It’s expected that you don’t act like yourself.”

Your breath hitches, and Johnny squeezes your hand reassuringly in response. 

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “I’ve seen so many awful things before. People getting shot, stabbed, beaten, Hank tearing people apart with his bare hands. But, Maker…”

You drag a hand down your face, rubbing your jaw. “Deimos is young. So young. He’s only twenty-seven, and he always has a smile like he’s just tied your shoelaces together and is waiting for you to trip. And he’s so smart, even if everyone calls him a bit stupid. Yeah, he’s got a slower reaction time, but that’s what me and Sanford are for, y’know? He…”

You blink hard, trying to will your tears away. A soft, frustrated groan leaves your mouth as you duck your head and put your cigarette to your lips. “Don’t look at me.”

Johnny starts to pull his hand away, but stops when you squeeze his hand. Instead, he squeezes your hand back, averting his gaze.

To Johnny, it again almost feels like nothing ever happened. Like there’s no Russia, no Nevada, nothing besides you and him on this roof, together. But he’s no fool. He knows things have changed – that Nevada has changed you. 

You breathe out a shaky plume of cigarette smoke. “I just want to go back.”

“But you’re here now, bonnie,” Johnny says. He tries to ignore the crushing feeling in his chest, tries to keep his composure for you. “Aren’t you glad you’re back?”

“I don’t know this place.” You look over at Johnny, your eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “You keep saying that we’re together, that – that this is my home. But how can this be my home if I don’t remember a thing about it? How can you be my boyfriend if I don’t remember a thing about you?”

Johnny exhales sharply, like he’s just got the wind knocked out of him. “Bonnie, please don’t say that. Please.”

“I know violence, and I know bloodshed,” you say softly. “I know Nevada. This place, this world…” You gesture vaguely with your cigarette still in your hand. “It’s not mine.”

“But there is violence here, there is bloodshed here,” Johnny insists. “Here, we fought together.”

“But I don’t remember us being together, in any capacity!” you snap. You take a breath and try your best to soften your words. “All I remember from before is just flashes. I didn’t remember your face. I just had your dogtag and a weird, empty feeling.”

Johnny sighs and feels tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t tear his gaze away from you. 

“You really expected me to trace the bullet and sift through fleeting memories when there was an entire agency playing Pinkertons knocking down our door?” you ask softly. “2B was bandaging my head ‘cause he just finished playing around in my brains and Sanford was shoving a gun in my hands. They pointed me in a direction and told me to shoot. I didn’t have the time to remember you.

“I’m sorry, but I just didn’t.” You squeeze his hand before letting it go.

Johnny immediately scrambles to catch your hand in both of his, holding on desperately. “No, bonnie, please.”

A few tears slip down Johnny’s cheeks as he looks at you. Your face is a mirror of his own, just in greyscale. Your cheeks are stained with tears and your eyes are just beginning to get a bit puffy. 

“If you know you’re gonna be leaving again, then just let me hold your hand,” Johnny says softly, his voice wavering. “Just for a few more minutes.”

You nod and, when you blink, a tear rolls down your already-wet cheek. “Okay.”

Johnny slowly moves so that you’re sitting shoulder-to-shoulder to him. He hesitates before resting his head on your shoulder. You smell just like how he remembers, albeit tinged with the acrid tang of G01 Choice cigarette smoke. You’re just as beautiful as the day he lost you.

“Okay.”

[thorias]

SEASON 2 WISH LIST:

-Madelyne is resurrected as a Horseman along with Gambit: I think there's a better story to tell with Madelyne being brought back (at least temporarily) than staying dead. The X-men having to fight her too would give Cyclops and Cable a more personal stake in this Apocalypse storyline, not that they really needed one, but still...

I said in another post that I wouldn't want to dilute the "Saving Gambit" story by making a bunch of other X-men Horsemen as well, but if it's just Madelyne, then I think it's okay. And I wouldn't expect Madelyne to survive this story anyway, since, aside from tying up a couple loose threads with the Summers family, her arc is basically finished now.

Plus, I just kind of like the idea of giving Deathbit a buddy in the spurned lover department; that could be fun.

-----

-Sabretooth returns. Logan (sans adamantium) has to fight him... and loses: I've always liked the idea that Sabretooth would probably beat Wolverine in a fair fight, (dude is like 3x Logan's size after all) but it's never been a fair fight since the adamantium basically made Logan unstoppable. But take the adamantium away and suddenly Wolverine is the underdog for a change, which makes the match-up a lot more interesting. And what's even the point of doing the bone claws story if it's not to see how Logan deals with being in a weakened state like this?

Granted, I want to see this for selfish reasons since Sabretooth is one of my favorite villains, but come on! Victor is long overdue for a W against Wolverine, and if he can't get it now, then I'm calling BS lol.

-----

-Mystique returns, working for Apocalypse: I think Demayo shot down the Val-Cooper-is-Mystique-in-disguise theory, (correct me if I'm wrong about that) but it would be pretty ridiculous if we didn't see her in season 2 since she worked with Apocalypse in XTAS on multiple occasions.

Plus, there's a ready-made story there with her and Rogue. In the 90s cartoon, Mystique wanted to get Rogue back as her daughter so badly that she was even willing to turn Rogue into a Horseman to do it. So just imagine if Mystique had a hand in convincing Apocalypse to resurrect Remy as Deathbit, or at least helped him pull it off, because she saw this as a way to get back into Rogue's good graces. That would add some really interesting pathos to a story that's already super emotionally charged.

-----

-Costume changes: I get that Marvel has toys to sell, but the different suits the team got in season 1 ain't it. Sorry, they're just not. The only one who pulled it off was Storm. Everyone else got a serious glow down. I actually felt low key embarrassed for Scott and Jean trying to make those retro costumes from the 60s/80s eras work; there's a reason those designs stayed in the past, you guys.

And I even like Rogue's green & white suit in the comics, but in the show it just looked awkward with the gloves being a different shade of green than the rest of it. I'd take just about any of her other costumes over this one.

Either change the suits again or go back to the old versions because I'm not feeling these current ones at all.

-----

-Magneto has a reunion with his kids... and it doesn't go the way he wants: We saw in the season 1 finale that Mags' separation from his children is something that's at least been bothering him, (though not enough for him to lift a finger to save them from being killed along with everyone else on Earth if he succeeded in destroying the planet's electromagnetic field, but I guess we're blaming that on bad writing) so I want him to meet his kids in season 2... only for it to go as horribly as it possibly could.

It would be both ironic and hilarious if Magneto is hoping to patch things up with his kids, only for Pietro and Lorna to try to fight and arrest him the instant they see him (X-Factor doesn't seem to be a thing anymore, but let's say they're still government employees and have the authority to arrest criminals/terrorists) because he did after all murder millions of innocent people with that EMP AND try to murder every other living thing on the planet, including them.

I mean, let's not kid ourselves, there's no way this family reunion is going to be a happy one after what he did. SOMEBODY has to hold Magneto accountable for that, and his own children doing it is about the most fitting thing that I can think of.

-----

-A big story arc for Gambit: Romy fans got gipped in season 1, and even if you're just a Gambit fan, you still had to settle for scraps with him only playing a major role in one episode, which coincidentally was the one where he got killed off. Yes, the stage is set for Deathbit to have a really compelling story in season 2, but that's going to depend on how it's done and frankly, after I got burned so many times in the first season, I'm skeptical that the writers will give this the care and attention it deserves.

Demayo said it was "key" that Remy died thinking he didn't deserve to be a hero and that Rogue had chosen Magneto instead of him. These things have gone unaddressed in the show since then, so I'm going to assume they're being saved for the Deathbit story and THE PAYOFF FOR THIS BETTER BE DAMN GOOD.

I want to see all of Remy's low self-esteem, self-loathing and resentment over the Rogneto debacle get twisted into a dark rage that Deathbit throws back in everyone's faces. AJ himself said that Remy didn't feel valued by the X-men or Rogue when he died, so use that! Make it part of the story! Make them own up to it. Force Rogue to confront her own feelings about how she handled that situation, (so far, she's been avoiding doing this) so it can factor into how they bring him back.

I know a lot of us assume that freeing Remy from Apocalypse's influence is going to come down to Rogue finally telling him that she loves him. And, yeah, that should be a big part of it, but it shouldn't be the only part. That's fine as far as Rogue is concerned, but Remy needs an arc too, and I just want it to be worth the wait after they put us through all this.

-----

-Deathbit vs Magneto: This needs to happen. Aside from the fact that Romy fans will have been clamoring for it for a long time, frankly, both characters are going to want it too. Mags will no doubt view Deathbit as the reason why he can't get Rogue back, and Deathbit... well, we all know what his reasons are; he'll likely want to take Magneto apart just for the pure satisfaction of it.

Now since Magneto's so OP, Gambit wouldn't stand much of a chance in a straight fight under normal conditions, but we know Apocalypse evolves/enhances mutants' powers when they become Horsemen, so imagine if he unlocked Gambit's Omega potential, so Remy has his New Son powers now, or at least a heightened version of what he had before. So Magneto goes in brimming with confidence that he's going to wipe the floor with his rival for Rogue's affections, but then in a shocking twist, Deathbit breaks out his newly enhanced power set and turns the tables on him.

Do I really want to see Mags get taken down a peg and humbled by Gambit? Sure. But narratively, this makes a ton of sense to do. Since Demayo loves Magneto so much, I highly doubt it will happen, (certainly not with this outcome at least) but I think it would be super satisfying for fans.

[cat-mentality]

It happens at night.

When darkness falls and the moon is not enough to illuminate the world, when the stars dim and the monsters are at their most active.

It happens at night.

They are not silent.

Why would they be?

You hear the laughter first. Always the laughter.

The screams and the laughter mixing together in a cacophony that sends shivers down everyone's spines, the sound grating at their ears.

They are not silent.

Knowing they are coming doesn't mean anything.

Their weapons are rudimentary, not a single enchanted item but the ones they took from previous corpses. Their armor does very little to protect their body but it doesn't matter, they welcome death as a blessing, hug her as an old friend.

They come, as a group.

Always a group.

They destroy the lights first, always. Bathed in darkness, like their senses have gotten intimately familiar with it.

A flash of colorful wings, cracked with dirt and blood and debris, and she laughs and laughs as she descends upon you with a stolen knife. She laughs and laughs as they strike her back, as they kill her, she is still laughing when she comes back and attacks again with her bare hands. Blood coats her whole body and she bathes on it.

Eyes that flash in the darkness, pools of blue consumed by madness, eyes that stared at the void and smiled at it. He smiles with blood red lips as he cuts you with a knife made of bone, he smiles as he licks the blood of the blade looking you in the eyes, a challenge, a plea. He smiles as he tears out pieces of the bodies, as he offers it to his companions like offerings. You never thought monsters could be so beautiful.

A flash of corrupted green, static that cuts the air, whispering things you cannot understand, that you cannot make sense off. He follows, without rest, he tears himself apart as long as it keeps you going and going and going, you blink and suddenly you are alone in the middle of nowhere, he smiles, twisted, eyes poison green. The static consumes you.

A sword you never see coming. A moment you are watching your surroundings, ready for an attack, expecting it because you know you are stronger, knowing that victory is promised to you. It doesn't matter, you don't see the blade until it is sticking from your body, gone in the blink of an eye searching for a new victim to sink into. You never see who is holding it.

A flash of ink black wings, in the darkness of the night you can't even see the spots where feathers do not grow anymore. Before you see the wings you can always feel them approaching, a chill down your spine, the air growing colder and colder, mist surrounding you, heavy, oppressing, the smell of blood and candles mixing together. Your death is an offering, a sacrifice. Blood for the Blood God. A soul for the Goddess of Death.

Eyes that stalk you in the darkness, unblinking, challenging you. He laughs and laughs in good nature as he invites you to kill him, as he begs for a reason to feel something, you can swear that sometimes even as his lips spread into the biggest grin you ever saw tears glisten into his golden eyes, his skin glowing, blessed with the un-death. You kill him over and over and over again. It doesn't matter. You cannot kill what was never truly alive in the first place.

A voice, soft in the darkness of the night, singing. Songs of mirth and joy, some in a foreign language most do not speak but those who do recognize the silly little lyrics, she sings and she kills you, she sings as you kill her, she invites you to join her over and over again, coming back like a lamb waiting to be made sacrifice, grinning, asking you why do you care? Why do you fight? You shiver once more as you sink your sword into her knowing she will be back and you still wouldn't have an answer to her question.

They die.

Over and over and over and over and over.

An unending circle of death and resurrection, of blood and pain and screams and laughter and madness.

They don't care.

They come back with the night, they bring darkness, they bring death like a second skin, they laugh and they laugh as they kill and as they die.

This is not Purgatory, they will crackle with blood dripping from their mouths, this is Hell.

Why do you care, they ask with genuine curiosity as you sink diamond blades into unprotected flesh, Why do you care.

Join us, they chant as they disappear into the shadows as the sun threatens to appear, join us, join us, join us.

We will wait for you, the last words spoken before they are gone, when you realize, we will be waiting for you.

You don't relax even when you can't hear their laughter and screams anymore, when you can't feel the madness spreading, consuming.

They will come when the night returns.

They always do.