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[writingwithsky]

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[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 21 - spirit possession

Does this fit the prompt? ehhhh

I love making up monsters for these, especially since I can then potentially reuse them for some of my various zelda AUs. Wahoo!

Warnings: just some ghosty stuff, nothing severe.

ao3 link

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It was a quiet night, cold and clear, stars so bright it looked like you could reach out and touch them.

Sky was whittling as he kept watch, adding details to a small bird he was about finished with. The general shape was done, the wings and tail carefully shaped, and Sky was adding small curves for feathers when he suddenly heard a noise.

He paused, lowering his hands as he listened. He wasn’t quite sure what it had been, but he felt suddenly uneasy, goosebumps raising on his arms, the air colder than before. The hair on his neck rose, and Sky straightened and looked around camp, counting the others as they slept.

It was cold enough that they were all closer together then they sometimes were, Legend curled up close to Four, the smithy between him and Twilight. Time softly snored beside Warriors, and Wild and Hyrule were tangled up in a heap of blankets and stray limbs. That just left Wind, who...

Who was sitting up in his bedroll, staring wide-eyed at something to his left.

Sky immediately looked in that direction as well, but he didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. But Wind kept staring, motionless, and the unease in his chest grew.

“Wind? What is it?” Sky whispered.

Wind didn’t look at him and continued to stare off into the distance.

Sky frowned and got off his log, carefully tiptoeing to Wind, and put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Wind didn’t react.

“Sailor? What’s there?” Sky asked again.

Wind slowly turned his head and looked at him, an odd light in his eyes.

“There’s something... out there,” he murmured. “I think...” he stood up almost dazedly. “...I think I should check it out.”

Sky didn’t release his shoulder. “What kind of thing, Wind?”

The sailor slowly blinked, but the dazed look didn’t leave his eyes. “Some kind of light... kinda blue..? It looks like...” his voice lowered. “...like a spirit or something.”

He took a step forward, and Sky frowned, catching his arm.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, but Wind didn’t reply. Just kept walking forward, easily pulling Sky’s hand off his arm.

Sky hesitated, not wanting to leave the camp unguarded, but also unsure he could wake someone up before Wind disappeared from his view. His movement was a little wobbly, but he was starting to walk faster now.

“Wind, wait a second,” Sky said, stepping forward and grabbing his arm again. “What exactly are you seeing?”

“I... I dunno,” Wind said, his steps faltering a little. “There’s... singing, I think, I... Sky... I think something’s wrong.”

Wind suddenly dug his heels into the ground, his eyes still slightly dazed, but shining with alarm now as well. But somehow despite his legs being planted firmly in the ground, Wind was being pulled forward, his eyes wide and shining bright blue.

“Sky!”

Sky lunged forward and grabbed Wind’s arm, Wind scrambling to hold onto him even as he was tugged further forward.

“Wind, what’s going on?” Sky grunted as he tried to pull Wind back.

“I-I don’t know, Sky I can’t stop!” Wind cried out, his feet scrabbling against the dry leaves on the forest floor. “Th-that light is still there, I...”

Wind breathed in shakily, and the force pulling him increased further, Sky nearly falling over as he tried to hold on.

“What’s going on?” someone asked in a groggy voice.

Sky glanced behind him, seeing Hyrule sitting up and wiping the sleep out of his eyes, and Sky grunted as Wind stumbled forward a few more steps.

“Something’s got Wind, I don’t know what!” Sky yelped, trying to plant his own feet but failing. It was like Wind was being pulled away by an invisible rope, and trying to pull him back was like yanking on a brick wall. “Help?!”

Hyrule immediately stood and rushed over as the others started to wake up, and he grabbed Wind’s other arm, eyes widening as he felt the resistance they were pulling against.

“What the—”

“Sailor!” Warriors exclaimed, and he and Legend both rushed over, standing in front of Wind and trying to stop him from that direction.

With four people pulling him back, whatever was forcing Wind forward seemed to be a little less extreme, though still plenty tough. Despite all of them pulling, Wind was still sliding forward.

“Wind, what are you seeing?” Time demanded as he ran to their sides, grabbing Wind in one of the few places he wasn’t being held yet.

“Just light, blue light, i-it’s on me, it’s pulling me,” Wind stuttered, sounding unusually alarmed. He was gripping Sky’s arm tight enough to bruise, but Sky kept holding on, his grip never faltering. “It’s cold, it feels... I don’t know—”

Wind’s eyes flashed and he suddenly cried out, scrabbling at Sky’s arm with a scared expression.

“Time! Sky it’s—” Wind gasped, his face pale and eyes glowing even bluer. “I can’t— no!”

The force pulling on Wind abruptly increased, and several of them lost their grips, falling to the ground. Sky and a few of the others who hung on were practically being dragged along by Wind, and Sky grunted, trying to hold onto him more tightly.

The fire was far enough behind them now that the only real light in the woods was the strange glow of Wind’s eyes. Leaves crunched as the Links that had tripped caught back up, and everyone piled on Wind, trying to hold him back with sheer force of numbers.

Even with eight heroes clinging to him, a few with strength-enhancing items, Wind was still stumbling forward, no matter how he fought against it.

“Any ideas as to what’s going on?” Twilight grunted, pushing at Wind from the front. “Sky?”

“Nothing, he just woke up and was acting weird,” Sky replied, out of breath. “Said he heard singing and saw a light, but I didn’t see or hear anything.”

Wind whimpered, his eyes still glowing, and Sky felt him clutch tighter at his sleeve.

“...I might have something that could help, but I’ll have to go get it,” Time spoke up in a strained voice.

“If it’ll help it’s worth it,” Warriors bit out, expression tightening when Wind let out a sound that was a mix of scared and frustrated. “Go.”

Time nodded and ran off, and Sky felt the pull get worse without his help. Everyone stumbled, and Wind was yanked forward, crying out as he stumbled forward through the leaves. Sky was the only one who really kept his grip, and he and Wind went skidding across the ground, towards where the trees thinned.

The other Links hurriedly caught back up and grabbed Wind again, barely making a difference in slowing him down. Sky looked around at where Wind was being dragged, and his blood ran cold.

Wind was being pulled directly towards a cliff.

“Pull harder!” Legend shouted as he noticed, and everyone planted their feet and tugged, trying to keep Wind back from the steep drop as much as possible.

Wind clung to them all like a remlit with its claws out, and Sky watched helplessly as they all edged closer and closer to the cliff. They were barely making a difference, and Sky practically held Wind in a chokehold, trying to slow him.

Time suddenly came crashing back through the woods behind them, something clutched in his hands. He skidded to a stop in front of the clump of people, and held up a purple-colored lens, angling it so he wasn’t the only one who could see through it.

Sky wasn’t the only one who gasped.

A huge ghostly bird loomed in front of them, glowing blueish except for its piercing yellow eyes. It had a long feathery plume stretching out from its tail, and Time followed it down with the lens, seeing where it was wrapped right around Wind’s middle.

The monstrous bird screeched as they looked at it, and Wind cried out, his pupils blown wide with fear.

“What is that?” Hyrule exclaimed, and Sky shook his head helplessly, staring at the ghostly bird. It looked a little like a furnix, with the curved point on its head, and long elegant tail.

A ghost furnix?

The bird abruptly flapped its wings forward, and a huge gust of wind threw everyone backwards, tumbling across the grass. Everyone except for Sky, something about the way he was holding to Wind granting him a little extra stability.

Sky couldn’t see the furnix anymore without the lens, but Wind obviously could, and he cried out again as he was pulled right to the edge of the cliff.

“Sky!” Wind nearly shrieked, and Sky held onto him as tightly as possible, tugging him back with everything he had.

Wind just kept moving forward though, his feet scrabbling wildly, whimpering as he clutched at Sky, and Sky fully expected the both of them to go over the edge.

Until Hyrule leapt forward with his sword, slashing at the invisible line.

All of them heard a bloodcurdling shriek as Wind and Sky were flung backwards, and everyone else ran forwards to attack the strange furnix now that Wind was free.

Sky knew the seven of them had it handled, and focused all his attention on Wind, who was gasping for breath in his arms, face pale and eyes finally back to their normal color. Wind’s grip hadn’t lessened in the slightest, and Sky didn’t pull him loose, even though he was sure his nails had scratched him deep enough to bleed.

“I got you, I got you,” Sky wheezed, clinging to Wind just as tightly as the Sailor was to him. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Wind shuddered violently, burying his head in Sky’s neck, and as the others took down the monstrous bird, Sky held him tight, carding a careful hand through his hair.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Heroes To Villains

DILF Yandere Superheroes x Gender Neutral Superhero Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, minor violence, gratuitous amount of firearms, super powers, super soldiers, spitroasting, general yandere behavior, bratty reader Word Count: 3.8k (I am sorry this took a bit for me to get to, only took a few hours to write though. I hope you guys love it. Feel free to tip if you do~)

The city you were stationed in was under attack by some fairly destructive super villains. They were either traitors born of the same government program that had produced you and the other super soldiers you worked with or they were sent by another country to attack the retired super agents of your country. Though it was also possible they were a rogue foreigner with a vendetta. All the people making up your squad had been in the military and had made significant enemies.

Their goals did not really matter so much at the moment. It was more important that they were defeated before they caused any casualties.

There were two of them. One of them with an ability to lash out with streams of fire and smoke and another that could jump up really fast and high before slamming down and causing a large explosion on impact.

They were no match for you and your comrades. Red and Ace had handled much worse threats than these two with ease. Ace had been a top pilot before undergoing medical experimentation that left him with angel-like wings and the ability to shoot energy blasts from his hands. The man was like a living B-52. And Red was basically a human tank. Very little could so much as scratch his skin and he had tremendous physical strength.

Both of them had soared through the ranks and had distinguished themselves as competent generals in the last great war. Now they were retired and used their abilities as super soldiers to become heroes and protect the capital from the strange threats that had been unleashed during war time. Mostly the occasional villain. Sometimes a mutant animal.

You had just been a simple medic. Nothing too fancy, but you had hesitantly taken the opportunity to go through experiments that would allow you to heal others much more effectively and without the need for invasive surgery. Most of the super soldiers gained a unique ability and also became more resilient to damage and agile.

And you had gotten those perks too, but not to the degree as everyone else. Though you had gotten an extra ability that most people lacked. Hyper accurate aim with long distance weapons. But you also suffered a drawback when compared to your peers. You got exhausted easily, having very little stamina.

Who could forget the time you had saved the city by firing the railroad gun at the giant robot that used mutated biological components in its construction? Firing a 19,000 pound shell and obliterating an entire giant robot with one perfectly executed shot had been amazing.

You longed for that kind of usefulness again. But currently you were a bit bored, as a long range support unit you frequently hung back a bit. Red and Ace normally cleared everything up themselves without having need of your abilities.

Ace had plucked the hopper from the sky and injected him with a serum that would knock him out cold until he could be taken into custody where his abilities would be removed completely, if they could be. Red had similarly taken out the fire user who had discovered that his searing flames did little more than make Red sweat a bit.

They regrouped together before they started walking back to you, each carrying the limp weight of an unconscious enemy on their shoulders. It would be a few minutes before they got to the rendezvous.

You heard the gruff voice of Red on your comm line.

“We got em’ On our way back now.”

“Affirma-”

You were cut off by a sudden shift underground followed by a woman jumping up from the earth below you and punching you hard enough to launch you several feet.

There had been a third and they had split up to take you on individually.

As you fell through the air you took out your side arm and fired every round in rapid succession. Each one aimed for her heart. Each one hit their mark. But when you hit the ground you had smacked your head pretty hard and the world faded to black.

You woke up in a medical bed in the basement of your headquarters. You were quite dizzy and you felt like you were certainly going to vomit.

You held your hands to your head and your palms flashed.

Much better. If you hadn’t been knocked out you would have simply been able to heal whatever injuries you had sustained in a flash. Oh well you were better now.

Ace walked in to check on you right as you had been getting up. He burst into a smile at seeing you awake. His blue eyes full of joy.

“Hey runt! Glad to see that you’re getting up and about!”

“Who’s a runt!?”

He flexed his biceps to drive the point in.

“Red, get in here, The runt is up!”

You heard his loud steps reverberate upstairs as he bounded towards the basement door and came rushing down.

“It’s been five days, we were beginning to really worry about you, squirt.”

He was smiling but you could tell his red eyes held a lot of concern in them. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Well, no need to worry. I am not as fragile as a regular person. And I am fully healed now.”

“Yeah… but you weren’t hit by a normal person. And you aren’t as durable as most of us…”

That was Ace.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be more careful, okay? I know my limits. I don’t need a lecture. I took the enemy down and I am okay now so we don’t need to linger on it.”

Ace put his hand to his face and his wings quivered in annoyance as they often do when he tries to lecture you and you just won’t have it.

You rolled your eyes and finally Red spoke up.

“This isn’t the first time you have gotten hurt on the field. Even with precautions like staying back you still end up injured!”

“What’s your point? It's a battle, injuries happen. At least I can heal.”

Ugh, an Ace lecture you were used to. You didn’t need both of them nagging at you.

You rolled your eyes as Red continued.

“Have you ever considered… going into another career? You volunteer at the hospital… maybe you could do that full time?”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t in any command position, but I was a trained soldier all the same! I think I can handle myself!”

You stormed away from them and went up the stairs, slamming the door behind you. Assholes. Who were they to tell you what you should consider doing? It was your life and if you wanted to use it fighting genetically enhanced monsters and super-criminals then that was your right to do so.

It would become evident in the future that this incident was where everything started to go wrong. Going forward in battle they always had at least one of them at your side whenever it was physically possible for them to do so.

When you were eventually still injured even with that precaution, even though it was minor, they pressured you again to quit being a hero. They thought maybe you just were too attached to them to leave so they even suggested that you could still be their medic but you would stay on at the base. You could even still operate the railroad rifle that could fire shells from miles away whenever a large foe approached the city.

But you wouldn’t have it. Fuck them. You told them that if you had to form a new squad in a new city then you would do so.

They frantically apologized immediately so they let it go.

It was unfathomable that they would ever allow you to do such a thing. Go off where they couldn’t protect you even a little? Where some inexperienced whelp of a leader would surely get you killed? Not a chance!

But neither could they allow you to remain a front line combatant. Not after the injuries and not with how easily you became fatigued when exerting yourself.

The solution was ugly, but it was what it was. You left them no other option for your own safety.

Though it would make them criminals themselves they had to do it for your own good. They had to keep you here with them where you would be safe and secure. They could turn the base’s AI defenses to keep you here and make sure that you were safe. They could also have it alert them through their comms if you there was any trouble while they were on a mission.

You were laying on your bed with your hands behind your head. You stared at your ceiling and contemplated all that you had been through. The war, seeing comrades on the battlefield ripped apart with no way to save them as they bled out in agony. You had to protect people from that in every way that you could, and if you did die on the battlefield then that was fine by you.

The intrusion of Red and Ace barging into your room out of nowhere pulled you from your thoughts and you regarded them both with a scowl.

“What NOW!? Can’t you guys at least knock? I mean seriousl-”

Ace cut you off with a hand gesture for silence before Red spoke up.

“Listen squirt… we decided something. We can’t allow you to join us on the field anymore…”

“Didn’t you just apologize for saying that after I threatened to leave? Whatever, I am out of here!”

You hopped up to gather your belongings and set out at once, the mere sight of the two heroes making you want to go on a rampage, but Red pushed you back onto the bed, then Ace picked up where Red had left off.

“Well that’s not all, runt. We also decided… you can’t leave here either…”

You started laughing. It had to be some kind of joke. But the tension that filled the room told you otherwise. You looked from Red to Ace and the empty expression from Ace and the guilty one from Red told you that they were deadly serious.

You grabbed your sidearm and launched yourself at Ace, you weaved past Red and twirled yo get behind Ace and held your arm around his neck with your gun aimed at his head. You didn’t speak a word, your intention clear.

There was no way you would be kept here.

You couldn’t go for Red as small arms fire would bounce off of him, but at point blank range Ace was toast. You backed out of the room, pulling Ace along with you. He cooperated fully. Even a pair of overprotective psychos didn’t want their brains blown out.

Out of nowhere a robotic arm emerged from one of the sockets in the walls. It seized your gun and then Ace flipped your positions with him behind you.

They had reprogrammed the defenses of the base to not allow you to have a weapon. These two were not former generals for nothing. They knew how their adversary, you, would react.

You slammed your foot down on Ace’s and smacked your head behind him to hit his nose. Such weak attacks did nothing to dislodge you from his ironclad grasp.

“Stop this childish behavior and just accept things. This is for your own good. If anything this little outburst has proven that you need to be protected because you certainly cannot control your emotions!”

Red was in front of you, still looking at you with that guilty expression.

“I’ll go get your weapons from your room.”

Ace and you watched in the doorway as Red got a sack and rummaged through every single inch of your private space to look for what was now contraband.

“Come on! If you are going to keep me here at least don’t go invading my privacy like this!”

Much to your embarrassment you actually cried a bit as the large man went through all your things.

He started by removing your pistols from your weapon’s display case. Your Beretta M9, your SIG Sauer P320, you… dear god no… not your baby, not your Magnum Research BFR!

You thrashed more as you saw him take that one.

Then he moved on to your bookshelf. He took out your religious text from the shelf.

“Hey, keep your grubby mitts off of that! It’s sacred!”

“Yeah, Red, don’t you think you should focus o-”

He opened it revealing that it had been cut out and housed one of your many sidearms.

“Of course,” Ace said flatly.

When Red finished with all your pistols he moved on to the ones mounted on your wall. Your Mauser M 98, your Browning BLR, and your little Marlin 70PSS.

The rest of the search was much the same. All but one had been found. Red had to get a second bag for them all. The ones in your desk, under your bed, and the one in your mattress.

Well at least they hadn’t found your most precious gun-child…

“Okay I think I got them all. Nowhere else to search. Be truthful, did I miss any?”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes and lied convincingly. You tried to look as defeated as you could.

“No”

Ace moved the two of you out of the way so Red could take your weaponry to the armory. As he started to leave the room he noticed his footsteps sounded odd in one place.

He pressed his large foot down in the spot a few times, narrowing his eyes.

Fuck.

He bent down and realized he could remove the floor board under the rug in that spot.

He found it, the bag unzipped and your M1 Garand joined the rest of your firearms.

“NOOOO!!! That one is my favorite! It PINGS when you use it!”

Now you were truly defeated, they had gotten every single one of them…

“Holy fuck, how many did you need??”

Ace joined in.

“Yeah that’s all a bit… much…”

“If your only offensive power came from guns then you would make sure to have one near you at all times in case of infiltration or emergencies…”

Ace sighed and let you return to your bed in peace. Or what peace could be had in your glorified prison.

Later in the evening they knocked on your door.

“Hey, we made your favorite food for dinner! And made your favorite dessert too…”

That was Red, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. He knew you would hate him now. You ignored them.

“Come on, don't be like this, you have to eat!”

And that was Ace, insisting that not complying with his psychopathic behavior was childish.

You opened the door and took the food tray. Both of them smiled.

“There, see? We can all still get along. We worked very hard on that meal for you!”

You were sure that they had, they were both skilled cooks. You stared at them expressionless and slammed the tray into their faces before slamming the door.

Ace looked furious but Red held him back.

“Come on Ace… they just need to adjust…”

But you refused to adjust. You ate only when they were out of the house. As the days went by you didn’t speak a single solitary word to either of them, you may as well have been a ghost.

Well… it would have been. Had you not been doing your best to make them the two most miserable men on the planet. You destroyed all the toilet paper, clogging every toilet in the base with it, you destroyed the fridge twice, you broke the TV, tore the couch, the robotic arms stopped you, of course, but you could manage to do a bit of damage each time before it stopped you.

Even Red was getting annoyed with your behavior.

They had both tried everything to get you to behave. Punishments ranging from not eating anything but flavorless oatmeal for days to being forced to sleep in a bed with one of them so they could make sure you didn’t cause any destruction while they slept.

Finally they had had enough, things could not continue on like this and it seemed like you may never open your eyes and see that they were just trying to keep you safe. Without them you’d have ran right into the jaws of danger.

They discussed it among themselves and had one more idea. You needed to feel loved in every possible way. They loved you so much after all, that’s what all this had been about, to protect you because they cared for you. But clearly they needed to step things up a notch or ten.

When they came home that day they barged into your room and grabbed you, taking you kicking and screaming into one of the many spare rooms the base had.

They had outfitted it with a huge bed, the walls painted your favorite color, fresh roses filled a heart shaped vase on the nightstand.

“Let go of me! What did you drag me here just to give me a newer bigger room? A prison is still a prison…”

“It’s going to be…” Red started.

“Our love… nest…” Ace finished, blush evident on his face.

“No thanks. Fucking weirdos.”

“Come on, sex is known to alleviate one’s mood!”

“Yeah, just give it a chance”

Ace smashed his lips into yours and kissed you deeply, you looked at him stunned.

They were serious… You wanted to wretch… Fervently you struggled, trying to get out of Red’s grip but he handed you off to Ace who wrapped his wing around you and led you to the bed.

They took your clothing off before moving on to your own. All of you had scars due to combat and training, and you had seen them nude in the showers before, but this was different. For the first time you felt vulnerable and scared under their combined gaze.

You covered your genitals but they each removed and held one arm so they could appreciate the view. “Come on, don’t be like that. Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ace whispered as he spread your legs apart.

“Red, did you bring the lube?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Red opened a bottle and lathered both of their growing cocks so that they were drenched with the stuff and then pressed some to your hole and massaged it in. They had no intention of letting this be a painful experience for you. They wanted to show how much they cared about you.

You tried to clench. To close yourself off from them. But the probing fingers would not be denied. You squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of cold lube being worked into you.

“Try to relax, it will be much better if you embrace us.”

“FUCK YO-”

Red cut you off with a kiss. You tried to bite his tongue but his tongue was no more vulnerable than the rest of his body.

Two sets of hand roamed and pet, and groped your body. Gently caressing you as Red made out with you. When they felt as if they had explored every part of your body they flipped you on to your belly, with Red on his knees in front of you. His crotch level with your face.

Ace was behind you on his knees between your legs, holding them still as he wedged himself closer to your entrance, until the tip of his cock was kissing it.

You couldn’t kick because he had control of your legs. You couldn’t punch because Red had your arms pinned. Now they just had to plug your bratty mouth and you wouldn’t have any means of protest. Verbal or otherwise.

They knew you’d try to bite so Red took your mouth, claiming it with his cock. You tried to move and turn away but once Ace sank his cock into your sensitive depths you gasped in surprise so Red took the chance to put his cock in your soft mouth. He did not go in balls deep, neither of them had yet. They wanted you to enjoy it. To relax. Not worry about being hurt or gagged.

Red humped into your mouth carefully and slowly while Ace did the same behind you.

“Damn, for someone so opposed to it you fit me so well.”

Then Ace added, “Your mouth feels amazing babe. He used his thumb to draw lazy circles into your arms where he held them down. He sighed in pleasure when he felt the pleasured moans Ace was coaxing out of you. Much to your dismay.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Your body relaxed, just a bit, as the men slowly bred a bit of the stress you had been under out of it.

Now that it seemed that you were enjoying yourself, even though reluctantly, Ace decided he could speed up just a bit, rolling his hips as his cock dug further into you.

Red was going a bit faster too now that you had acclimated and stopped trying to resist so hard. He let your arms go, sure that you had finally realized how silly fighting was. The large man stroked your cheek as he continued thrusting into those sweet lips.

Ace was the first to cum, his wings outstretching fully and deep voice gasping as his large nuts filled you with wave after wave of his seed. His large cock twitched inside of you, pushing you over the edge and into your own orgasm.

Feeling all your muffled cries of pleasure right in his prick caused Red to start cumming. He pulled out, not wanting to choke you on his copious amount of semen that he knew all super soldiers produced in spades, instead cumming all over your face.

Ace pulled out of you and was the first to speak.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You didn’t respond, you were still panting from the workout you had just received. You didn’t protest when Ace pulled you into his lap and held you with your head nestled into his chest. Your head laying right on his hawk tattoo. You didn’t protest when red scooted beside him and kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You even let them clean you up and feed you your favorite meal that they diligently cooked for you while you waited politely on the couch. They figured your resistance to them before was just because you had needs that weren’t getting met.

And from that day forward they knew that anytime you got too snarky or rebellious all they had to do was make time to fuck the brattiness out of you.

[fictionalslvr]

SYNOPSIS: Leon hated you, but even more, hated himself. The pure anger growing because of his selfish mind. He was just jealous, jealous you were younger and prettier. But his chest couldn't help himself. Not on this case.

PAIRING: Vendetta¡Leon x Younger agent¡Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.148k.

WARNINGS: Age gap, but reader is +18! (Not really Enemies) to lovers, not use of y/n, based on the lyrics of "Cigarette Daydreams - Cage the Elephant"

Vorfreude:(n.) The joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures.

NOTES: I'm trying really hard to get out of this writer block, so I'm writing slowly. This is just the start of what can turn into a series, so tell me if you guys like to motivate me to continue writing!

“You can drive all night…”

Leon really could. On nights like this, when the stars aren't visible in the obscure sky, his hands would grip on the steering wheel and drive towards nothing. He's definitely wrong for doing that. Driving while being drunk. Barely recognizing anything on the road, the semaphore lights look like a beam that irritates his eyes. Those same eyes who used to shine brighter than that. Those damn eyes who used to look bigger. Those same eyes who are now tired, exhausted, spent, worn out, every single synonym you could search up for to describe those parts he couldn't recognize anymore on himself. He's now nearly forty, and he never imagined this. The younger and pure him would always thought that forty was the age of success, where he would be resting all day, without work to do, without people in his mind, without worries, nothing to worry about. Silly him for thinking that.

“Lookin' for the answers in the pourin' rain…"

He never had his answers, never even had one. He would always question himself, like why he's alive and most of his friends dead. This wasn't a bit fair, and not a single fair for that big rounded younger Leon. When he looks to the past, he hopes he gets blind to not see those things again. Forget everything that happened, the days he spent in pure automatic, the bad things he said, the disgusting things he saw and had to participate in. Leon used to think that things would get better, when it didn't.

“You wanna find peace of mind

Lookin' for the answer

If we can find a reason, a reason to change

Lookin' for the answers

If you can find a reason, a reason to stay

Standin' in the pourin' rain…”

That poor old dog had his reasons to stay. Some reasons even seem foolish, like taking care of his dog. He always thought what his dear four-legged friend would do without him, he would probably die, and he can't let this happen. The big Irish Setter called Luis was a gift from Ashley after some years, she said it was to help them to deal with what happened in Spain. The blond was septic at first, and refused to call a damn dog as Luis. But they were very similar. Those eyes followed him everywhere, the way his fur looked like his hair, and soon…he found himself calling him that way he promised not to. It was stupid. But that stupid act helped. Leon felt like Luis was with him all the time, that his friend were there on his side. And he caught himself chatting with the animal, telling him how the day was tiring, and he seemed to understand everything, practically paying attention to his words. He would sniff Leon, place his snout below his hands to earn some caresses and help him forget the subject quickly. He sure is a clever dog, and he rapidly got attached to the pet, or better saying, his friend. Now, the man would enter his house and found the old dog running to him, jumping on his legs to earn his attention. And that futile act would take out a sincere chuckle out of him, only he could do that.

Old as he is now, he asked the D.S.O to work less. And as he worked so much for them, they granted it. Letting him do little jobs, more like a detective. And that only earned him more headaches. Specifically saying, one headache of a woman, his partner that he despises so much. That voice of yours would get into his brain and annoy him.

—”You drank last night again, right? I can see you're not looking well.”

That got him rolling his eyes up every time, groaning in bitterness. Why would you care about him that much? You never did, and he knows it. You were so much younger, so much brighter, so much like him in the past, and he hated this. You were always such a tease, that damn smile plastered on your face like he wasn't worthy of that happiness. Leon hates you. With the depths of his heart, his repugnance about you is real, and he knows himself enough for that. He just doesn't understand. But he thinks he does, and silly him for thinking that.

His true impliccance to you is your happiness. You can't be happy if he isn't, that's obvious. He started to dig why you're happy and he's not. In the serious cases you were alongside with him, you never took it one hundred percent seriously, you would make jokes all the time and he would just ignore. But deep inside, he was holding himself not to laugh.

—”Damn, where's everyone going?” — Leon looked behind, watching you circle on your place, searching for human sights.

—”Bingo.”

And his answer came out of nowhere. So suddenly you didn't expect it. That took a single giggle of you, your eyes squinting as you shook your head to it.

—”Yeah, okay old man.”

He found himself proud, proud that his same old joke made some effect. Even if it was on someone he hated it. Leon sighed softly, turning back to his place and wondering if you would find his other jokes funny. You were always laughing, so it would be easy to make you laugh. But that wasn't the time for it, and neither was important. Leon quickly got back to his serious face and focused on the mission. But you, you were surprised to see such a side of him, even a fraction of it. He never was the one talking to you, and you just thought he was the serious old man you heard of. And honestly, you heard a bit of his story, of his mades and how impressionnant he is. But you would never admit it, because that would be invasive, and you're not prepared to understand his pain.

But Leon is a bad liar, a really bad one. And he couldn't lie to himself, couldn't lie when his hurt hung to each other, not when his pupils dilated without his consent every time, not when his hands started to sweat or the words slipped out of his tongue incontrollably. He knew this was love, in the most bad time to come in, and the most bad person to fell in love, but there's no denial. The problem is, Leon Kennedy is also not going to accept it easy, so that's a big problem from now on. Even bigger if the problem is you, the so annoying rookie that's he's slowly wishing you two are on the same mission, the same rookie that laughs of his stupid jokes, that rookie that brings some desserts some times and he pretends not to like. That damn rookie.

[aurae-rori]

children of the city ; a dr. ratio analysis

Dedicated to all the people in my inbox going, "WHAT IS A CHILDREN OF THE CITY AND WHY IS IT DR. RATIOCORE?!" I will now be pointing all of you to this post, because it's easier to access and find.

If you are finding this out in the wild, greetings. I am Aurae, one of the many Dr. Ratio Analyzers (shoutout to my other homies who are doing the work of the aeons and clearing the misinfo and slander to my boy's name). I am here to tell you why the song "Children of the City" by Mili is Dr. Ratiocore.

It's time to deconstruct my boy like the puppets that you see on tv, who find comfort in the strings. (if you know, you know.)

"Sleep for a total of 800 hours per day And then drink a liter of milk Warm-up before you go play Only eat, or write Or pull the trigger with your right hand Only thing that's left Is to work on following commands"

I'm totally not projecting my gifted child trauma here, nuh uh... Anyway, my personal HC for Ratio is that his child might have felt monotonous being in classes that he was already too "intelligent" for. Learning things at a quicker pace than other children, absorbing knowledge up like a sponge - sure, the praise is nice, but after awhile, especially when you get to higher levels, intelligence isn't enough to carry you. You have to put diligence, effort, blood sweat and tears into what you're studying for, especially if you want to make a change, like how Dr. Ratio wanted to. It. must have gotten lonely, getting up only to do more researcher, eating only to go back to work. Following a schedule is wonderful, and he would have enjoyed the routine, but after being isolated from other people along with that, it might have made him feel subhuman or less than human for only being there for the studying of more knowledge. Eat, study, work, repeat. This is more of a personal HC rather than something canon, though. :)

"By the time you realize You'll be restrained to a desk And with your dreams on the floor, you comply Eyes chained to the test In 30 minutes, find a groom or bride Bonus if brunette In 90 hours, spill their insides Paint your room picturesque"

I feel like the prospect of romance is pushed onto children at a very young age - and that can be applied to Dr. Ratio. Who knows what romantic beliefs that he grew with? However, I believe this is less of him observing himself, but more of him seeing what the education system does to others, and how society molds others into the person that they "should" be, rather than what they want to be. Also, it could be a reference to academic trauma and placing all your self worth in your grades.

"Now it's time for another vendetta Going through the shelves Picking out my pre-written persona (ha-ah-ah) Children of the city sees only the neon stars Reflected upon the murky gutter sky Don't ask me why I desperately wish to be included in the city's night"

This is how I see Dr. Ratio holding a grudge against the Aeons and other figures of authority. We are all expected to be "good" and "well-behaved", and yet, we all look to the "city's night" - the approval of those who are in a higher position of us. We want to gain the approval and the praise of our parents, of our teachers - it's natural, after. We want to be included in the "city's night" - in Dr. Ratio's case, the gaze of Nous. He wants to be acknowledged by Nous and let into the Genius Society because his beliefs that were instilled into him as a child dictate that since he is hailed as a genius, he should be seen as one by the Aeons, right? However, I'd like to point out the usage of the words "neon stars" - stars are not neon. This implies that the stars are fake - I can also see this as a pointer to the idea of there system itself being fake, or societal "norms" being fake, as we are all unique.

"In four hundred thousand meters, turn right

Pick up a knife and stab a familiar warm body Learned to fight before I knew love or bitterness of coffee Snippy scissors cut down the strings I set myself free Only to figure out everything I chose was by proxy"

Dr. Ratio following orders until he doesn't. Fitting in until he gives up on it. Setting himself free from the chains of what is expected from him of other people, but not by the Aeons - no, that's something that still stays with him. However, I like to interpret the idea of a "familiar warm body" being his own childhood - killing the child that you used to be in favour of facing the future. Coffee is also something commonly regarded as students or workers using it to keep awake during long periods of work and study - it talks about how he has known to fight for himself, or fight for what he wants, before he was told to suck it up and just work for the sake of others, for the sake of the authority. However, this might feel scripted to him as well, with the mention of a "proxy" - it was a decision someone else made for him, maybe? Who knows? Maybe his selflessness was originally chosen by someone else, and drilled into him?

"As we suckled upon the nine millimeter pacifier Swallowing the fact that other than to expand We had no purpose As my ever-burning will to stay afloat backfires I now know I must be comfortable being Who I considered worthless"

This is definitely expanding on the idea of being raised to just be used by the authorities. Also, this can also be a representation of the way that he calls himself "mundane" - he was called a genius and raised as one, and now that Nous has not seen him, he must be "mundane" and he must come to terms that he is exactly what he wasn't called growing up. None of their words of praise have any meaning any more, because in the all seeing gaze of an Aeon, he is nothing.

"Follow the city's ribbon To a heart nobody seems to listen It takes my heart being broken and broken again (broken and broken again) To know that I am the reason why (the reason why) The sufferings never end"

As Dr. Ratio uncovers the truth of his childhood and the truth of why he was raised this way, the empathy that he has suppressed comes back up. And this is it - because he feels for others, because he is so incredibly human, that is the reason why his suffering does not end. He cannot detach himself like other people, like other geniuses, and treat life with little to no care. He cannot, because he loves, and that is his fatal flaw. He listens to his heart, as well as his mind, and that does not make him a genius in the eyes of an Aeon.

"Do not go home until you finish reading the value of E. 2.71 8281 8284 5904 5235 3602 8747 1352 6624 9775 7247 0936 9995 9574 9669 6762"

"E" is a mathematical constant, and therefore is logical. It's called the base of a natural logarithm, and while my knowledge in that area is limited, the fact that it is called a "constant" means that it cannot change, just like all numbers cannot. It might be a representation of the idea of Dr. Ratio trying again to fit in with others, only to fail once more, even though he knows all the rules. He was simply born in a different way, doomed from the start. It wasn't his fault.

He was just human.

You can also see this as Dr. Ratio observing the world as he grows up in an "apathetic" and "detached" way - as he pushes down his own emotions in favour of staring at his own success to help others, knowing that his empathy will not get him anywhere in terms of a cruel world. However, he cannot help it.

Ultimately, "Children of the City" is about how we are raised in a society that forces the idea of work on us ever since we are young. We do not get to cherish our childhoods nor our youth, and are immediately turned to the prospect of how we can provide value to society. We are raised in a never ending cycle like machines, to be puppets to corporations, to be slaves by the desire of the majority, to never have free will of our own.

[cheollipop]

double shot espresso

navi | taglist

pairing: choi seungcheol x gn!reader

w.c.: 1.4k

tags: fluff, so fluffy you might suffocate (sorry)

Dragging him out of the warm confines of your shared bed and into the chill air of dawn, Seungcheol wordlessly holds you while you marvel at the start of a new day.

A/N: this was originally a fic for another fandom, but sleepy scoups has me wrapped so tightly around his pinky finger that I just had to write a version for him as well. this man.... anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─

You pried your eyes off the bright screen at the first coo outside the open window to your right, only for the early rays of the morning to greet you from behind the cotton-candy clouds, a pinkish-purplish hue to them as the sun began to rise.

You let the controller fall onto the couch beside you, leaving your Sims to talk amongst themselves, rising to your feet – your toes had started to go numb as you sat in the same position for the past hour. Taking a few steps forward, you reached out to hold onto the windowsill, taking in the sky in all its different hues, birds scarcely flying across the wide expanse of it.

You thought you would regret staying up all night with your eyes glued to the large screen, wishing you had gone to sleep when your boyfriend did; but with this view spread out before you, you’re beginning to think otherwise. Usually, he would stay up with you, playing his own games beside you. However, on this particular Friday night – morning – he knocked out early after a rather rough day at work.

You made your way to the balcony door, but your fingers paused at the handle. Abruptly turning around, your soles padded softly against the hardwood floor as you made your way through the short hallway of your apartment. You twisted the knob to the master bedroom, peeking your head inside, an easy smile curving the corners of your lips. Despite being a well-kept man, Seungcheol slept as if he had a personal vendetta with the sheets – limbs all tangled up with the blanket, his pillows beaten and thrown all around the bed and floor. Aside from the one under his head, and the other between his legs – or under them, as he laid on his stomach. His shirt had ridden up in his sleep to reveal a slither of his toned torso, one of his pant legs halfway up his calf. Amidst the chaos he had brought about the bed and its surroundings, his face looked the exact opposite – at peace. Soft puffs of air left his nose, the faintest of snores that he will swear up and down, left and right, are nothing but a hallucination. Because Choi Seungcheol does not snore.

You found yourself leaning on the doorframe, the ticking from clock on the wall acting as background noise as you took in the steady rise and fall of his back. Then you snapped out of it, standing up straight and clearing your throat, realizing that if he were to wake up right now – as unlikely that would be – and encounter the dreamy eyes being directed at him, he would never let you live it down, teasing you until you were redder than tomatoes themselves. That, and the fact that if you were to stare for any longer, you would miss the bewitching scenery just outside your window. You wondered if it was cruel to wake him up when he looked so at ease, but realized that it would be even crueller enjoying the sunrise without him by your side.

You gradually made your way to the bed, sitting down by his waist and resting a palm on his shoulder blade. “Cheol,” you whispered, shaking him once, twice, and he was up, bolting upright and sucking in a deep breath of air, as if he had been deprived of it in his sleep. You flinch even though you had expected it. The man may sleep tranquilly, but never wakes in that manner.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, nearly panting, bleary eyes looking you up and down. His voice was hoarse with sleep, brushing off the remnants of his dream. You wondered if he had been dreaming of you.

You smiled fondly, reaching out to squeeze his hand, the gentle touch calming his racing heart. “Let’s watch the sunrise together.”

Choi Seungcheol – all wide shoulders and big arms – rubbing his eye as you led him by the hand through your apartment, dark locks tousled and pointing in different directions, pant leg still halfway up his calf. It was almost adorable – a man of his stature, following you like a lost puppy.

There were many things Seungcheol loved in life, most of which being you. Why else would he allow you to interrupt his beloved slumber, dragging him out into the crisp air while even some birds remain dormant?

He waited for you by the balcony door as you collected a few cushions from the couch where you had spent your night. Seungcheol felt more awake after he had rubbed his eye dry, with enough awareness to go through the linen closet, tucking a few blankets under his arms. He walked outside where you had laid the pillows down, taking the blankets from him with a grin splitting your face. Cute, he thought. You were the most beautiful when you were excited, even at the break of dawn. You built a makeshift fort on the tiled floor, his hands warm as they brushed against yours. His body more so as you finally settled against it, your back flush against his chest while you stared ahead. He sighed into the crook of your neck.

The sky was more orange than pink now, the glowing arc of the sun parting from the horizon. The stars that once scattered the breadth of the sky now swallowed up by the golden flares. The chill of the night still stuck around, not yet ready to part from the earth for the day, and a shiver ran through your body. Seungcheol unravelled himself from you momentarily, reaching behind him for a spare blanket before wrapping it around his shoulders, bringing it around to close around your frame. His arms held you tighter, wave of heat rushing through your skin. His head rested on one of your shoulders, warm breath blowing against your skin as his chest rose and fell against your back.

“This is nice,” you spoke, voice soft as if not to cut through the quiet. Your smile was just as soft, an easy twist to the corner of your lips, eyes unwavering as you watched the sky change colours – from a bright magenta, to a fiery orange, and gradually to a radiant yellow.

Seungcheol hummed, the gravelly sound raising goosebumps along your skin. He planted a tender kiss to the crook of your neck, your skin cool against the warmth of his lips. He places a few more – on your nape, your clothed shoulder, your cheek. Anywhere he could reach without disturbing the comfortable position you were sat in, legs tangled and fingers interlocked under the fleecy blanket. His head found its way back to your shoulder, relaxing against the cotton of your shirt.

“It’s so pretty,” you added, eyes wandering, moving from one side of the sky to the other, taking in the view as though this was your last chance to do so.

Seungcheol hummed again, dimples dipping into his cheek as a soft smile graced his lips. “It truly is.”

You continued to stare ahead, but Seungcheol’s eyes lingered on you. He would never tell you, but for the entirety of the hour you had spent on that balcony, Seungcheol didn’t look at the sky once.

After the sun found its rightful place between the clouds, and the sky lost its yellow hue, making way for soft blue, Seungcheol forced you into bed. Although you felt wide awake, you found yourself dozing off rather quickly, engulfed within the warmth of Seungcheol’s arms. And yet, you rose before he did. The blackbirds and robins had long since ceased their melodies, the shining star smiling at you from the centre of the sky as you stared out the kitchen window. Your hands worked while your thoughts remained elsewhere, perhaps musing about the man resting just a few doors down the hallway. Plucking out his favourite mug from the cupboard, you placed it in its allotted space in the machine, watching the creamy stream of coffee pool into the ceramic. The fresh aroma of the espresso danced through the kitchen – a scent you associated entirely with Seungcheol.

He should be up soon, you thought. Considering you saw him every day, you figured the giddiness you felt whenever you thought about him would fade away. And yet, here you were, smiling at the fresh cup of coffee you had brewed, hoping he would wake soon, ready to spend your day enveloped within his warm embrace.

apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[adrift-in-thyme]

I've got so many wips rn and what do I do? Start something new. I'm hopeless. But how am I supposed to resist the chance to write more fairy Time? ;)

CW for blood and injury

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

He drags himself to the fountain.

The battle would have been difficult for nine heroes. For one — even one as experienced as himself — it had been nearly impossible. A fight hardly even worthy of being called a battle. 

No, Time thinks, grim and dizzy, as he digs his fingers into the dirt and attempts to sit up, it had been a pathetic struggle at best. He had barely escaped with his life. 

The Shadow, it seems, has a vendetta against him. Not that he doesn’t have one toward all of the Links, but…

Time’s efforts land him back on the ground, shuddering as wet coughs tear through him. 

…but it had felt like something beyond his usual distaste for the Heroes of Hyrule. As he had poured monster after monster through those cursed portals, as he had attacked with a sneer on his lips and a glint in his eyes, it had felt personal.

Perhaps, that is not so surprising. 

Wavering, Time grits his teeth. Blood trails down his chin. Its warmth is in stark contrast with the icy chill that has taken root in his bones. 

The Shadow’s sentiments hardly matter right now. It is not as though he could decipher them correctly if he wanted to. 

His thoughts are scattered and panicked, his body failing, his vision going gray. He is mere inches away from salvation, from safety, and his time is running out. 

Another stab of pain imprisons him in its steely grip. A muffled cry breaks through his tightly closed lips. His vision whites out for a moment, before returning fuzzy and distorted. 

Desperately, he reaches out. Trembling fingers slip, slick with blood and monster gore. He collapses with a small splash. 

The effect of the sacred water is instant. A ripple of magic runs through him, warm like a blanket and sweet like the sugar water he offers in hopes of regaining his fairy. In the next second, wings unfold from his back, his body shrinking to fit them.  

He slips fully into the embrace of the shallow waters. 

Time ends up on his side, liquid seeping in through the chinks in his armor and beading upon his wings. He blinks, slow and agonizing, trying to drag himself back to some semblance of awareness. But whatever delirious strength had born him here has fled and taken everything with it.

The water flows around him, glittering and cool. Gently, it soothes his injuries, carefully, it numbs them. But it’s not enough. He knows that now.

This fountain has been weakened. This fountain has no fairies left — save for himself — to imbue it with blessed strength.

No doubt, the monsters have driven them away. He can feel their distress, can imagine their flight, away from here and the encroaching darkness of evil and night.

Time gazes at the surrounding trees. They are mere shadows now, hazy and grayish. Twilight is long gone, bringing with it its brilliant purples and pinks and oranges. Storm clouds cloak the usual speckling of stars and block out the dismal light of the moon.

Not that Time minds that. Without its depressive glare, he feels calmer. 

If he has to fade away, he would rather do so beneath an angry sky, curled in the fountains that have always been his haven, in the form he feels most comfortable in. The form he cannot comprehend, yet treasures all the same. 

The waters turn black with his blood, feathery wisps of it floating out and away from him. He watches it with disinterest. Everything feels far away now. Even his need to survive, to return to Malon. 

He tries to grasp for it, to bring it back to the forefront of his mind. But his efforts are for naught. And what good would it do him anyway? He is too weak to move. He spent his remaining energy on the desperate gamble of stumbling here. Hoping, praying that the magic he felt calling him was still active. Was still alive.

Something rustles in the bushes. A creature, most likely, scampering about, unperturbed by his wavering presence. He is so small now he would be surprised if anyone could see him. Or hear him.  

His blood, however, is another matter altogether. Who knows what beasts have tracked the scent? 

He shifts slightly and a groan slips out before he can stop it. It doesn’t matter though. Whatever horrors seek him cannot measure up to the pain he is already enduring. The Shadow has the power to turn one’s own body against them. No wolf or bear has that ability.  

Something large and dark emerges from the shadowy foliage. Piercing blue eyes glare into his. Time tries to focus on them, tries to decipher their strange familiarity. But the world seems off-kilter, pain turns everything distant. 

I’m sorry, Malon. He thinks as the form moves toward him, looking to his fading eye almost like the clouds that hover above them. I’m sorry that I broke my promise.

And pup…I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.

“Time?” He hears the voice from very, very far away, growled more than spoken, a rumble like thunder before a downpour of rain. It cracks at the end, splintering like his bones when the Shadow had swung his sword too high, too fast for him to evade.

Time wants to drag himself up, wants to comfort this being he is certain he knows. But he lacks the strength to so much as raise a finger. 

And when he is lifted with a gentleness he cannot comprehend, when something soft and warm envelopes him, something that murmurs, “safe” in tones he knows — he doesn’t even attempt to break free.

If this is death, it is wonderful. ---------------------------------

He must lose himself soon after that. Because when he opens his eye it is an act of awakening, surfacing from the unfeeling deep. 

Time stirs, sighing as that same warmth of before embraces him. The pain that had torn him apart has dulled greatly, leaving behind only a ghost of what it once was. And though he isn’t certain why it’s gone — or even if that is a good omen or bad one — he can’t truly bring himself to care. 

He is comfortable here, drifting in this haze of dark, and he doesn’t want to disturb it. It has been so long since he felt like this (perhaps, since the start of the heroes’ journey). It has been so long since he slept, actually slept. 

“Old man?”

Something damp and cool nudges at him. His bed of plush fur (fur? His mind questions blearily) quivers at the movement. 

“Hey, old man. Can you hear me?” 

Time hums, a low sound that grates on his abused throat. 

A sigh of relief. His sanctuary shifts again. 

“Thank Hylia. I thought we’d…I thought…”

Time frowns. There it is again — that voice he knows, usually so strong and joyful, not shattered like broken panes of glass. The voice that ignites something in him, a protective instinct as strong as he feels toward Malon. The voice that reminds him of their love and the miracle that will come of it.

Reluctantly, he drags his eye open. 

At first, he can make out very little. But a few blinks and his vision clears enough that he can see the thick gray fur that surrounds him. He is nestled on Twilight’s back, he realizes, sluggishly, situated so his pup can keep an eye on him, even reach him if he cranes his neck. 

Those crystal blue orbs meet his and there is something broken in them. Time has never seen such emotion in a wolf’s eyes before.

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

He shouldn’t be able to understand that sorrowful growl, and yet, Time can hear the words as clear as day. 

That…is a mystery he will decipher later.

“‘M sorry, pup,” he croaks. His wings flutter gently. “‘M sorry.”

Twilight must have found him lying there in his own blood, hardly clinging to life. To have come upon such a sight…

Guilt wells within him. Time swallows against it.

Twilight shakes his proud head. 

“You can’t scare me like that. I can’t even scold ya like you can me.” He narrows his eyes. “Not that that’s gonna stop me from trying.”

Time huffs an attempt at a laugh. “I don’t…don’t doubt that.” He grows somber once more. He feels unconsciousness tugging at him again. But before he falls, he must at least say this. “You saved me. You shouldn’t-shouldn’t have had to. But I thank you for it.”

Twilight gazes at him for a long moment. “Of course. I love you, old man. Malon loves you. I never would’ve left you there. I never even entertained the thought. So, no thanks are necessary.” He cocks his head. “Although, gotta admit I’m a little sore about the fairy secret.”

Time resists the urge to roll his eyes. “You keep your own transformation a secret. Why…why should I not keep mine?”

“Oh, you can keep it from everyone else if you want. Just not from me.”

“What makes you s-so special?”

“I’m your descendant,” Twilight answers drily. “So, how do you do it? This isn’t an after-effect of what they…what happened to you…is it?”

Time shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs, struggling to stay alert. “I’ve always been able to do this.”

Twilight is silent for a moment. Then, “I came across a stray fairy when I was trying to get you back to camp. She was the one who healed you. She called you a child of the fairies. Not ‘brother’ like Hyrule. Their child.”

Time stares dazedly at the shrubbery surrounding them. They have always called him that. Even Tatl had. But hearing it now, from Twilight, raises new questions. Questions he supposes have always been there, hovering in the back of his mind. But that he has never bothered to ponder. 

The quiet stretches and Time can’t decide how to break it. So, he merely lets it be and snuggles deeper into Twilight’s fur, suddenly immeasurably grateful that his descendant’s secondary form is a wolf.

Powerful and gentle in equal parts. It fits his pup well. 

“But never mind that now,” Twilight says, as though sensing Time’s exhaustion. He sighs. “You need your rest. You comfortable up there, old man?”

Time nods. “Soft,” he mumbles, drowsily. 

Twilight nuzzles him again and humor is in the movement.  

“Good. Go to sleep then. I’ll watch over you.” His tone grows serious, unyielding. “Nothing will touch you while I’m here.”

A slight smile lifts the edges of Time’s mouth, even as a voice cries out within him, protesting this display of weakness, this terrible burden he has put on his descendant. But he is so, so tired. Too tired to rise and be the stalwart leader he knows he should be. 

His wings spread flat upon his back, like a shield. Darkness crowds his vision, numbing his thoughts and weighing down his still-sore limbs. 

“Thank you, pup,” he whispers, with what little strength he has left. 

He is gone before he can hear Twilight’s reply.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

What do you think of Grrm's portrayal of religion?

Hi anon, this is a really interesting question, and it took me awhile to put together what I hope is a coherent answer.

For context, I think GRRM's background is important to keep in mind. George is almost exactly my parents' age and belongs to the same demographic of American anti-war ex hippies who aged into broadly liberal baby-boomers. Their radicalism has largely mellowed over the years, they may not be the most up to date on the appropriate terminology, and they tend to prioritize nonviolent solutions to systemic problems (my mom often tells me the younger generation needs to do another March on Washington). One thing liberal boomers also tend have in common is that often they grew up religious but, as they entered their 20s and went to college, broke away from the churches of their childhood. My family is full of ex-Catholic liberal boomers like George. They might have dabbled in Buddhism or Hinduism in the 70s, New Age mysticism in the 80s or 90s, and ended up settling into statements like, "I'm spiritual, but not religious." Almost invariably, they have a sort of disdain for organized religion, which they associate with a kind of yokel mentality, a place for anti-Choice anti-LGBTQ traditionalists. Although they will profess "to each his own," to the average liberal boomer, the church represents regressive values and they cannot imagine why anyone would willingly return to it. Even those who did remain religious take great pains to make it known they are not like those Christians. And to be fair, liberal boomers have a good reason to feel this way. The churches of their childhoods were not fun places for people whose own ideas and values went against post-WW2 broadly white middle class values. Unsurprisingly, SFF authors tend to fit into this category.

And this sort of bleeds into a lot of 90s SFF. You see a lot of worlds that have religion, but rarely do you have characters that are religious, and even more rarely do you have sympathetic young protagonists who are religious. You might have the occasional kindly priest or nun type, but far more often these characters will be abusive, mean spirited, or narrow minded (think of Brienne's childhood septas). Religion is often treated with the same disdain by in-world characters as it is by the authors themselves. You might even have worlds that are almost entirely secular, with vague references to "The Gods," but without any real religious traditions constructed around them (Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings series, which features two vague dieties, Eda and El, who seem to have no religious traditions surrounding them whatsoever). You might have cultish religions that are actively dangerous and must be stopped, or you might have Catholic church analogues, existing in opposition to everything cool and fun. Protagonists tend to be cynical non-believer types, or they might start off as true believers and lose their religion along the way. Rarely are they allowed to have sincere and abiding faith.

And you can see a lot of this in George's writing, in the way he portrays the Faith of the Seven and other religions, and the way the fandom receives them. The Faith of the Seven is Westeros' answer to the Catholic church, but there are also the Old Gods, the faith of R'hllor, and others, often presented in opposition to each other. George himself sees religion as a divisive force, and in ASOIAF, we see religions in conflict with each other, we see them weaponized to fuel vendettas, we see them used to drive prophesies and start wars. There's a clip somewhere, of George at a panel, where he's talking about religious conflict and his take is very reminiscent of George Carlin's-- you can tell he knows the bit. "Are you really going to kill all of these people because a giant invisible guy in the sky told you too? And your giant guy in the sky is different?" George asks, receiving a round of applause from the crowd. It's a very modern view on religion, which is fair, I think. He's writing for a modern audience who have modern conceptions of the church, and he is making a deliberate point about the harm religion can do. .

What I do think is missing, or at least downplayed, are the ways in which the medieval church was really a driving cultural and social force in medieval Europe. We live in a secular society, so we have the luxury of disregarding the church in a way that medieval people did not. This is one major way in which the worldbuilding of ASOIAF departs from the real world middle ages. To portray the medieval church as a primarily regressive institution that mostly drove conflict is too simplistic. The Catholic church is what culturally unified most of western Europe into what was known as "Christendom." The clergy served political functions, such as providing an important check upon the power of medieval kings, and when the power of the church declined, despotism grew. Socially, for most western Europeans, the church was also the center of day to day life. Insofar as medieval peasants had any opportunities for leisure time and celebrations, most of these revolved around the church. The church was for centuries a driving force behind art, music, literature, and architecture, and it also performed important social functions, such as operating poorhouses and leper-houses, and providing educations for children.

And all of this was just extremely normal. Most people prayed multiple times each day, and sincerely believed in heaven a hell. The state of one's soul after death was such a real concern that the sale of indulgences-- a way that you could pay to get your dead loved ones whose souls were in purgatory into heaven more quickly-- became a major racket for the Church. I've seen the HotD fandom react to Alicent Hightower's level of devotion calling her a religious "fanatic" and I cannot stress enough how absolutely normal Alicent would have been in medieval times. This is where I blame the framing of the show more than George, because it does set Alicent's faith in opposition to Rhaenyra's seemingly more modern values, but does it in a selective way. For instance, Alicent comes off as prudish, and modern audiences hate a prude, but we never see how her faith would have certainly inspired her, as queen, to take other more progressive actions such as giving alms to the poor or bestowing her patronage upon motherhouses. In another post about the fandom perception of Valyrian culture, I talked about how this modern view of devout belief, particularly Catholicism, tends to cast anything that is presented in opposition to it as an unequivocal good, and I see this sort of rhetoric slung around the fandom a lot, "why would you defend the pseudo-Catholics who hate women??" But the pseudo-Catholics are really just normal medieval people, and they didn't hate women, they simply lived in a patriarchal society and the material conditions did not yet exist which would allow them to challenge that in any meaningful way.

[kirschteinoir]

about you.

vendetta!leon kennedy x reader.

❝ ”and I'll miss you on a train, i'll miss you in the mornin'. i never know what to think about...” “i think about you.” ❞

leon has a favourite bar and one day, you decide to visit him there.

wc; 2277

!! gender-neutral reader but wearing perfume is mentioned, i wrote this with a slight age-gap in mind (what can i say i love me a dilf) but can be read without, drinking, mutual pining (TENSION!!!), leon is a bit of a lewser in this sorry i can’t resist writing cringefail leon

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢!𝘭𝘦𝘰𝘯-𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘪’𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺,,, 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱

to anyone but you, it sounded like he was just talking nonsense about an arbitrary bar on the wrong side of town. no one gave leon more than a nod of acknowledgement every time he brought it up, wondering what was so special about this place. but not you - you slipped him a telling smile as he spoke, peering through his long blond lashes.

you hadn’t seen the D.S.O agent in a few months now - you’d had your own commitments and he’d had his. this didn’t stop him from crossing your mind often during your missions: you thought about his eyes, once sky-blue bright but now dull and frozen over like the arctic, his soft blond hair, which was so often matted with blood and sweat that you weren’t even sure he was blond for a while after you met him.

you didn’t know why you’d suddenly had the urge to grace this side of town with your presence, the side that is lit only by neon signs and cigarette butts. the rain patters against your umbrella as you wander down the alleys and the clack of your expensive shoes against the asphalt echoes in the narrow spaces. for a reason unknown even to you, you’d slipped into your best clothes before you’d left - the kind of clothes you reserved for official government meetings and stuffy medal ceremonies. you’d even sprayed a little extra of your expensive perfume in hopes that he would compliment it like he always did.

your relationship with leon was complex to say the least. all you knew of him were longing gazes after the other had left the room, a lingering touch for a second too long as you handed paperwork to him or when he brushed past you in doorways. you knew nothing of his past - his family, his friends or how he became one of america’s best B.O.W hunters - but you could paint his face from memory and pick out his cologne in a blind test. you could map the freckles on his face and trace your fingers over the stubble on his cheeks.

the hour becomes later and later as you sweep past various storefronts and other shifty establishments - some closed for the night, some advertising theri after-hour ventures. you decided to allow yourself to indulge in your thoughts of leon tonight: how had you met again? no matter how hard you tried, you blanked every time you thought about your first meeting with leon. to you, he felt like someone you had never not known and had always been a part of your life (and by extension a part of you). this line of work had a reputation for numbing you to the human condition, making everyday feel the same and replacing your earlier happier memories with unspeakable horrors.

it’s not long before you find yourself in front of a non-descript wooden door that had been painted over so many times and beaten by the elements that it appears a dull, unassuming brown. the glass windows have blackened with the build-up of grime and the brass handle is half-rust by now.

there’s no name, no sign: just a single flickering LED light to draw your attention to the uneven step sitting poised under the door, reading to ensnare the oblivious and send them flying. you lower your umbrella, feeling the rain mist your face as you shake off the excess water and tuck it under your arm. a deep breath escapes you as you push open the door, the wood dragging over the stone with an ugly screech.

you step inside and drop your umbrella into the basket by the door, sighing as you glanced around.

this is exactly the place where leon would be on a day like this.

despite looking unkempt and almost abandoned on the outside, it was rather cosy on the inside thanks to the cheap yellow lights casting a sickly warm glow. very few tables littered the bar floor and even fewer customers to occupy the sticky stools. those who had chosen to sit at the tables sat alone, their backs facing everyone else. they sipped their drinks like robots, staring into space or at the cigarette smoke dancing up from the ashtrays. their gaze barely flickered to you as the door slammed behind you.

there was no ambient music, no chatter - nothing to audibly entice you except the thump of pitchers on the tables or the clumsy clink of a bottleneck against a glass.

there was only one man sat at the bar. you dust down your clothes and clear your throat a little - you weren’t actually expecting him to have to face him tonight. the air feels sluggish as you march over to the bartender and ask for an extra dry martini. he nods once to let you know that he heard you before turning around, effectively leaving you alone with him.

“long day?” the deep timbre of his voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you bite back a smile. you turn to face him, resting your elbow on the grimy bar counter.

“everyday is a long day,” you respond with an honest edge in your voice. his features look tired and worn even under the soft yellow glow of the lights. he chuckles at your response and takes another sip of his drink, pretty pink lips wrapping around the cool glass. you watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows the last of it in one go. you avert your eyes, your heart racing a little.

leon doesn’t need to look at you to know that you’re beautiful today, as you are everyday. even when the pair of you have been covered in blood and guts and you have mud all over your hair and face and your under-eyes show your many sleepless nights, leon still finds you breathtaking. he’ll never forget when you both met for the first time: you, a new recruit just wanting to make the world a better place and him, already numb to the things he’d been forced to endure. the mischievous glint in your eye as you sized him up and how you got him to smile within the first fifteen minutes of knowing him will remain in his memory forever.

he can feel your gaze on him as his glass clinks against the wooden table. clearly, you’re waiting for an invitation to sit with him - he wants to tell you that you don’t need one, ever.

“i don’t bite,” he muses, his finger circles the rim of his empty glass absent-mindedly.

your laugh makes him feel lighter than any mixture of spirit and liquor ever could as you slide over to the stool next to his.

“geez, you reek of liquor. how long have you been at this shithole?”

you raise your eyebrows as you sip your martini, swallowing dryly. now you’re beside him you can see the details of his face: his rough stubble, the faint wrinkles on his forehead from the constant furrowing of his eyebrows and, your favourite, his long blond lashes guarding his cerulean eyes like reeds around a pond. his irises are brighter than normal but still hint at exhaustion and you try not to stare for too long.

leon doesn’t respond: he doesn’t feel as though he needs to. he knows you know the answer to your own question, as if the empty bottle beside his gloved hand wasn’t a dead giveaway.

you mutter his name under your breath as you reprimand him lightly and he feels a lump forming in his throat as his heart skips a beat. his fingers tighten around his glass and he finally allows himself the privilege of looking at you for the first time since you walked in here.

he draws in a quick breath as he’s engulfed by your appearance: you’re a deity to him as you swirl your drink, watching the gin swish against the side of your martini glass. leon feels utterly undeserving of your company and he sighs, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

he doesn’t want to burden you by falling for you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks gruffly, no longer wanting the attention to be on him. he watches from the corner of his eye as you shrug.

“you kept talking about this place so much that i had to come and check it out. i had a gut feeling you’d be here tonight.”

leon smirks and stares down at his calloused hands: the ones that wield pistols with the same ease as he does his toothbrush. his fingertips, constantly smeared with gunpowder, should never be allowed to touch you. his smirk falls.

“pretty miserable gut feeling then, if it led you to me,” he jokes softly. his bad habit of self-deprecation made him cringe but you laugh, downing the last of your martini.

“ever the optimist, leon. lighten up, will you? i haven’t seen you in ages. don’t you think it’s fate that we met tonight?” the alcohol was beginning to daub your judgement and although you only half-believed in what you were saying, the thought that seeing leon tonight was because of divine intervention made you smile. you lean closer to the blond, trying to coax a more relaxed side of him out.

he’s caught off-guard by your openness and lifts his glass to his lips to ease the awkwardness of his reaction. it’s empty though, so he sets it down again.

“fate? i...i don’t believe in fate...”

you roll your eyes playfully at his leon-esque response.

“you know what i mean. it’s funny though, because i was just thinking about you the other day.” you’d meant it to sound light-hearted and friendly but leon senses something else hiding between your words. he raises an eyebrow at you, genuinely curious.

“thinking about me? to what do i owe the honour?”

he finally turns to face you fully, crossing his arms over his chest. his leather jacket squeaks as he anticipates your reply.

“nothing like that...” you begin, sensing the smugness of his question. “you just crossed my mind, s’all.”

your answer doesn’t satisfy leon but he doesn’t push you, knowing you’d let him in eventually - you often found yourself being more chatty, more open, more vulnerable when you spoke alone with leon. it constantly eluded you as to why: he didn’t exactly have the most welcoming personality. you just couldn’t help yourself, taking his comfortable silence as a sign to continue whatever you were rambling on about. it was a dangerous habit that you knew you had to reign in, for both of your sakes.

he notices the lull in conversation and his throat starts to close up - his hands feel a little clammy and he realises that he doesn’t want you to leave just yet.

“can i get you another drink?”

your cheeks heat a little as you nod. “sure. i’ll just have another martini,” you say sweetly.

he nods stiffly and flags down the bartender. he doesn’t order a refill for himself, which honestly surprises you.

“are you tapping out for the night?” you joke, motioning to his empty glass with a smirk.

the blond dares to chuckle at your joke, shaking his head. now that you were here, he wanted to remember every second of it and he knew another bottle would breach his usual limit. no, he was very much staying sober from now on.

“a thank you would be nice,” he quips, leaning forward and resting his arms against the table. he steals another glance at you, getting lost in your features as he commits them to memory for the millionth time, afraid of ever forgetting you. he doesn’t realise he’s staring until you clear your throat softly and look towards the bottles of liquor lined up behind the bar.

“thanks...”

“you look nice today,” leon blurts out at the same time as you thank him. he immediately fidgets in his seat, not meaning to speak over you.

whilst leon has complimented you before (nice shot!, you just saved my ass., good work today. ect) this one felt new. it stirred something within you that you had been trying to suppress ever since you first joined the D.S.O. your gaze snaps up to his face and you try to discern his own feelings right now. he was making it difficult though, by refusing to look at you.

“thank you, leon,” you say tenderly.

god, the way you said his name had his mind reeling. he sucks in a sharp breath at your tone, knowing he was fighting a losing battle by trying to stay on his side of the line.

“sorry..i-” what was he even apologising for?

you cut him off by placing a hand on his arm as an attempt at reaching out to leon, hoping he’ll meet you halfway. his cornflower eyes flicker up to yours in surprise and you can see his lashes fluttering as he figures out what to say next.

“there’s this new vietnamese restaurant that opened up near my place. i’ve been meaning to go recently but i’ve always been away on missions...”

his eyes visibly soften and he relaxes as he realises what you’re doing.

“oh really?” he breathes, daring to glance at your lips for a fraction of a second. this doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you smile.

“yeah. i was thinking of going tomorrow actually. around 7.”

after a pause, leon nods.

“maybe you’re right. fate did bring us together tonight.”

you bite back a laugh, taking another sip of your martini.

about me. 

[90sbee]

I was dead, and then you came (back).

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader. 0.7k words. Also on a03

There is no way you’re just human, though. No normal person would let him come back. No normal person would choose to act with such kindness, with this tremendous and fervent love.

Leon learned his lesson. You're willing to return to him. He can't help thinking about what a miracle that is.

So, I've been writing so much about this man it is about time I start posting all the delusions. You can blame @navstuffs for this mess since she was the one that encouraged me to keep on writing and start posting. Her fault, tbh.

Content: Fluff, basically him yearning under the excuse of a morning after. Mostly his pov. No use of y/n, some sprinkles of size kink I guess. It's just them being dumb for each other. I guess any older Leon works, though I had Vendetta Leon in mind (but you do you).

Warnings: Leon's mental struggles; some suggestive lines; rough sex mentioned but no smut. STILL, minors do not interact. +18 only. Also I'm not a native English speaker so, apologies for any mistakes.

Leon looks at you in awe. How could he look at you differently? With soft steps you traverse the distance between the bed and the kitchen moving calmly, delicate figure enchanting him.

He licks his lips, amused. He sits on the bed, stretching his arms as he keeps his gaze on you.

“What is it?” you ask once you return to his side, a cup of tea in your hands.

“… You’re breathtaking,” Leon muses, a smirk decorating his mouth.

The cup shakes slightly, obvious signal as to how you feel.

“Always the charmer, Kennedy.”

“No, I mean it,” he replies, piercing blue gaze as tender as a summer sky.

“If you say so,” you sip on your tea, sitting closer to him and he presses his face against your shoulder, eyes closed.

The agent is aware that this is a privilege: a man like him is not bound for the whole spectrum of pleasure, both the carnal dance of two bodies as well as the warm company that now brightens his morning.

You smell sweet still. Even after he spit in your mouth, even after he forced pretty tears from your eyes. No trace of the sweaty musk that should surround you both after such exhausting physical activities from the night before.

You’re magical. More than human, Leon thinks.

When he opens his eyes, he is greeted by the sight of a pinkish love bite on your neck. He fixes his eyes on it, on the oval shape it draws on your skin. Could he do it again? He wants to. Hell, he would beg to mark you like that again. Every mark, every bruise, every trace of tears as evidence that he was there. That he is still here, with you. You’re real. And most importantly, he is there to experience it. To reverence your existence and praise you as you deserve.

The affection in his thoughts must be too loud, as you look at him, a hint of comprehension in your tone.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Leon shakes his head, body moving forward, as if caught on the spot.

“I just… would like to do it again. I mean, like last night. But also maybe not just… sex. If you’re… okay with that,” he explains, trying to sound casual, as if his heart isn’t attempting to break free from his chest, destroying bones and lungs on its way out. As if he wouldn’t fight the biggest horrors in this world with just his bare fists for just the chance of a lifetime with you.

Leon pushed you away once. He won’t make that same mistake twice.

You smile at him, scrunched up nose and the gentlest glimmer in your eyes. No reply comes out of your mouth, but the kiss you offer him is more than enough of an answer for him.

He kisses you again then, trying to process this still. The notion that even after his fears had overcome his whole life, terrorizing his thoughts and destroying his most precious bonds, you’re still willing to try again. To forgive him, to help him build himself up from deep, deep into the ground.

If the soil had buried him and drilled pain deep into his skull, so be it. There was still hope now. He wasn’t a dead man. Not yet. Not as long as he had you.

You chuckle when you both pull apart after the kiss, your bubbly energy making his grey bedroom light up.

Leon wants to add something else. But when he looks into your eyes again, he senses that you understand. And when you cup his cheek, caressing his stubble with heavenly devotion, the teacup long abandoned on the night table, he is more than certain that you know.

There is no way you’re just human, though. No normal person would let him come back. No normal person would choose to act with such kindness, with this tremendous and fervent love.

You look at him in awe, chest burning with yearning. Gaze tasting his pink lips, savouring the pretty eyelashes and the early wrinkles around his eyes.  The display of your feelings must be too strong, since he chuckles, taking your wrist in his hand, kissing your palm.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he teases you.

And when you laugh, his stomach jumping with happiness after so long without being greeted with that divine sound, Leon is finally convinced: there is an angel in front of him.

If you've made it to the end, thank you. You're now legally required to tell me your thoughts (or not, I'm not a cop) 💜

[interact-if]

Hi, do you know of any IFs that include family drama? There was one IF that I can’t remember the name but you visit your family after your mother was murdered. Thank you

Hi Anon, here's a list of interactive fictions that include family drama. If anyone has any further suggestions, feel free to reply and we'll add them to the list, thank you!

Completed:

Blood Money by @hpowellsmith

Blood Moon by @barbwritesstuff

Dragon Racer by @13leaguestories

Fernweh Saga: Book One by @lacunafiction

Never Date Werewolves by Rebecca Zahabi

New Year's Eve, 2019 by @cyberpunklesbian

Pageant by @cyberpunklesbian

Portrait of a Texas Family (VN) by Lookout Drive Games

Rent-a-Vice by Natalie Theodoridou

The Parenting Simulator by Matt Simpson

Twofold (VN) by @vnstudioelan

Demos:

Blood Legacies by @bloodlegacies

Checkmate in 3 Moves by @checkmatein3moves

College Tennis: Origin Story by @collegetennisoriginstory

Crown of Exile by @ramonag-if

Dear Diary, We Created a Plothole! by @ddwcaph-game

Exiled From Court by @beeanca-writing

Fallen Lights by @fallenlightsif

Golden by @milaswriting

Hollowed Minds by @shai-manahan

Larkin by @larkin-if 

Merry Crisis by @merrycrisis-if

Runaway by @ericclem

Speaker by @speakergame

The Bastard of Camelot by @llamagirl28

The Deal: Act One Inferno by @thedeal-if

The Exile by @exilethegame

The Hunger Within by @thehungerwithin-if

The Sky Left Us (VN) by Rat Worm Games

Undead Heir by @undeadheir-if 

Vendetta by @vendetta-if

When The Moon Bleeds by @whenthemoonbleeds-if

No Demos:

In Her Shadow by @in-her-shadow-if

[infosphere]

Batman: The Dawn of Shadows

Chapter 1: The Silent Night

The story opens on a stormy night, the rain pounding against the window of Wayne Manor. Bruce, restless and haunted by nightmares, roams the halls of his home, clutching a worn-out journal filled with his thoughts and sketches of his training. He writes about his dreams of becoming a symbol of hope and justice in Gotham, a city plagued by crime and corruption.

Chapter 2: The Masked Avenger

With the help of his trusted friend, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce begins to hone his skills. He trains in secret at a hidden gym beneath the mansion, donning a makeshift mask and dark clothing. He learns the art of stealth, combat, and investigation, driven by a desire to confront the criminals who prey on the innocent.One night, while patrolling the streets, he encounters a gang of thieves robbing a convenience store. Using his newly acquired skills, Bruce intervenes, surprising the criminals with his agility and quick thinking. Although he manages to scare them off, he realizes that he is far from ready to take on Gotham's most dangerous villains.

Chapter 3: The Shadows of Gotham

As Bruce delves deeper into the criminal underbelly of Gotham, he uncovers a sinister plot orchestrated by a mysterious figure known only as "The Joker." This enigmatic character thrives on chaos and violence, and his influence spreads like wildfire throughout the city. Bruce's investigation leads him to a group of vigilantes, including a fierce young woman named Selina Kyle, who operates under the alias Catwoman.Initially at odds, Bruce and Selina form an uneasy alliance, each motivated by their personal vendettas against the criminal elements plaguing Gotham. Together, they delve into the heart of the city’s corruption, uncovering a web of deceit that reaches the highest levels of power.

Chapter 4: The Turning Point

The tension escalates as Bruce faces his first major challenge when The Joker targets Gotham Academy, where he and Selina are students. The villain plans to unleash chaos during the annual school fundraiser, putting innocent lives at risk. With time running out, Bruce dons a more refined version of his costume, symbolizing his transformation into the Batman.In a dramatic showdown at the fundraiser, Bruce confronts The Joker, utilizing his intellect and combat training. The encounter pushes him to his limits, forcing him to confront his deepest fears. With Selina's help, they thwart The Joker's plan, but not without consequences. The experience leaves Bruce scarred yet more determined to embrace his destiny as Gotham's protector.

Chapter 5: The Birth of a Legend

By the end of the story, Bruce realizes that being Batman is not just about vengeance; it’s about hope, justice, and the strength to inspire others. He has transformed from a grieving boy into a symbol of resilience. With Selina by his side, he understands that the fight for Gotham is just beginning. As they look out over the city from the rooftops, the Bat-Signal lights up the sky, marking the dawn of a new era in Gotham.

Epilogue: The Shadows Return

Though Bruce has made a significant impact, he knows that the shadows of Gotham will always return. He resolves to continue his training, ready to face whatever darkness lies ahead, as he steps into his role as the legendary Batman. The story closes with a hint of the challenges to come, setting the stage for the epic battles that will define his journey in the years to come.

Story by InfoSphere, follow, like and share for more stories!!

[praisethegabs]

before sunrise

pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's alive and recovering. the sun is rising, it's time to start a new day and, possibly, a new chapter in your life.

warnings: mentions of injuries, being at hospital, deaths, and traumas. starts with angst, but has a happy ending like our boy deserves. fluff, leon being vulnerable and sensitive and the reader comforting him, references to id!leon and vendetta!leon. no use of y/n, second person (you)

author's note: the third and final part of before trilogy. this part took more time to write because i wanted a good ending. there's some quotes from infinite darkness and vendetta bc why not? i rly enjoyed writing this trilogy, and i'm sad that it ended. i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing this!

word count: 4243k (approximately, i've lost count)

before: part one | part two

There was a soft breeze coming through the window, announcing the sunrise.

Although it was a cold day, the sun was shining in the blue sky outside. For some reason, you always enjoyed this type of weather. It wasn't cold enough, but it wasn't warm, too. It was perfect, even though you had to be satisfied with the view.

The walls were white, and you were starting to hate that color. Everything, absolute everything, was white. You sighed again, feeling the pain in your lower lip due to the cut you had. At least, it was something real, and you could feel it, and deep down, you were glad to feel something instead of cold, tiredness, and hunger. Even though you were safe, you hated to wait. And you hated even being at the hospital, especially when you couldn't do anything to change that.

But, just for some release of conscience, you weren't the one that was in there. Of course, the circumstances were terrible, but at least he was safe. Your mission was a complete success, but you were so worried. Nothing could make you feel better, and you were starting to despise that feeling.

Sure, patience wasn't your best virtue, and despite everything you did, all that was left was to watch Leon while he slept, completely medicated and out of danger.

You managed to call for help, and you couldn't stop remembering the fact that he almost died due to high fever. When you found him inside that house, he wasn't breathing anymore, and things happened so quickly that you couldn't even process everything yet. In one minute, he was presumed dead, and in the next one, he was inside the helicopter and being medicated, being resurrected by someone way more qualified than you. You had your share of cuts, contusions, and wounds, but still, he was your priority, and you wouldn't allow yourself to rest until you had sure Leon was safe.

And you brought him home safe.

Now, you were in the hospital and waiting for him to wake up. You glanced at your arm with the clean bandage and then at your hands. You were shaking, and you couldn't tell why, or you were just lying to yourself again like you always did when you were under stress.

"Hey, you" you hear Leon say, his voice weaker and husky, but still your Leon. Your eyes meet with his and suddenly, there's only peace. "Where are we?"

"We're safe" you said to him, your voice full of concern. You were trying so hard to make things easier, even though he was indeed safe.

"What happened?" he asks again, closing his eyes due to his tiredness, his voice low and more husky.

"I contacted Hunnigan, and she sent the rescue team. The medical team brought you here a few days ago" you explained to him, careful enough to not let him worry.

"I was sleeping for days? I guess I needed to rest" he chuckled, and his comment made you smile, your body starting to relax. Yes, it was your Leon.

"You always look like you need to rest" you teased him, a slight smile appearing on your lips as you feel more relaxed around him. "I'm glad you survived. You scared the living shit out of me... again"

"Are we doing scores now?" Leon teased you, the same sentence you used when you were helping him years ago during the outbreak in Raccoon City.

"How do you even remember that?" you ask him, laughing out loud, completely caught off guard by his question.

"I have a good memory, and besides, I couldn't forget the night you saved my life... twice" he said, smiling, and he looked very lovingly saying that way. Your heart melted inside your chest. "I owe you three times"

"Well, you made a promise to Marvin that day. I can't let you die, right?" you smiled back, feeling your cheeks turning red. After all these years, Leon still had that effect on you. "Even after we turned special agents, I'm afraid you'll stick with me till the day I die... and I'm pretty sure you'll still haunt me in the afterlife"

"Well, I'm glad you know that. I can't just lose the love of my life like that" Leon said, now opening his eyes and looking directly at you. "I'm sorry I scared you... I know you wouldn't let me die in peace"

"You're an asshole, Kennedy" You called him by his surname, but you laughed after you finished the sentence. "By the way, how are you feeling?"

"I'm in pain. Thank you for remembering it. Now I can complain about your terrible stitch skills" he tried to laugh, but his expression changed quickly, and he groaned in pain.

But you just laughed at him. Besides the laughs and the terrible jokes, he was still your Leon. The same man you had fallen in love with, and the same man you had the luck to share your home with. And, at the end of the day, he would be there. Home.

Life was weird sometimes.

You knew one day he wouldn't come home. One day, he could die during one assignment and leave you on your own. And the thought of that made your body shiver because you weren't prepared to lose him. The same thought was running through his mind. Although Leon had difficulty sharing his feelings, you could see and feel everything through his eyes. Words were unnecessary at that point. You knew him, and he knows you. That's all that matters.

"You look so beautiful when you're thinking about something else" Leon said, whispering, his voice soft as he looked at you, his blue eyes shining.

"When I'm distracted?" you ask him, smiling. True, he always loved to watch you doing absolutely everything.

"Yeah, especially when you're distracted. I love you, do you know that?" he asks you, a slight smile appearing on his lips as he declares himself to you.

"I love you too" you smiled again, your heart full of joy at the moment. He always expressed himself through actions instead of words, so hearing him say that, well, it completely melted your heart.

But suddenly, you caught yourself thinking about everything, starting with Raccoon City and ending with your last assignment, the one that almost ended Leon's life. You felt fear, although you usually didn't have time to feel scared like that. He was safe, right? Then why couldn't you feel the same? Your mind was tricking you to think otherwise, and you were starting to hate this.

"Hey, I'm fine" Leon said to you like he could read your mind and like he knew what was going on with you. "I'm not gonna die, trust me"

"I'm scared, and I don't know why" you replied, looking straight at his blue eyes, seeking comfort. "All that happened... Jesus, I can't let go, you know? I can't stop seeing Raccoon City all over again... you almost died in there and almost died again in our last assignment... and I just don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't lose you"

"I'm not going anywhere without you, babe. I promise you" his voice is full of comfort and kindness, as he talks very smoothly and caring. Sometimes, you just forget how lovely he can be. "I'm here, aren't I? I'll never leave you because if I do, then who's gonna haunt you in the afterlife?"

And with that, he made you smile. Even in pain and tired to the bones, he still tries his best to comfort you. You kiss his forehead gently as he sighs to your touch. He loved being kissed and spoiled by you, even though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

"Get some rest, I'll go see if I can find any snacks to eat" you said to him before leaving his room.

He then sighed again, feeling much more tired than before. At least, he wasn't lost and alone in the middle of nowhere, and even though he also hated being in the hospital, Leon was feeling much happier having you around him. He glanced outside the window and started to thank every possible God out there to let them know he was glad to be alive again. The sun was rising, and he had a new opportunity to make things right.

Slowly, he started to close his eyes, embracing the darkness and diving into a dream.

He was again in Raccoon City. Leon could feel the cold rain touching his skin. He could see the nightmare that place was. Worse, he could see the tyrant that was hunting you both that day. His heart started to race inside his chest. He was scared to be in there again, being obligated to see his worst nightmare again and feel that all over again.

But, this time, something changed.

He saw you running from the same tyrant, and this time, he wasn't able to help you. Leon had to watch you die. He screamed and cried, he tried to get rid of whatever was holding him against the floor until the dream started to repeat and he realized he had to watch you die over and over again, unable to save you.

"NO, PLEASE! STOP!" he screamed, waking up. His breath was heavier. He was shaking and sweating. When he realized it wasn't real, he started to look around desperate, trying to find you.

"Leon? What happened?" you ask him, entering his room. He was still breathing heavily and shaking.

"It's... it's nothing. I'm fine" he lied, but he knew you already had figured out what happened to him. He was a terrible liar. "Don't look at me like that"

"Did you have a nightmare?" you ask him, sitting on the edge of his bed, your hands caressing his leg above the blanket that covers him.

But he didn't give you an answer. Instead, he remained silent, trying to calm himself down. His hands were shaking, and for some reason, words were unnecessary. You just knew what he needed. So, without telling him anything or asking him for permission, you just embraced him with your open arms, as if you could protect him from everything in the world.

And, with that warm embrace, Leon started to cry.

It was unusual for him to be so vulnerable like that, but truth be told, he was so tired. Every night, he had the same nightmare, but he always thought he could deal with that. Until he saw you dying, and there was nothing he could do to keep you safe. He had to watch you die. He had to hear you scream and hear you blame him for everything bad that has ever happened. And this time, he couldn't take it. He was scared, truly scared.

"It's okay, it wasn't real, and you're safe" you whisper to him, your voice soft and caring enough to calm him down.

"I saw you" he sobs, covering his face on your chest so you can't see him cry. "I saw you die... and there was nothing I could do to save you"

You said nothing. Instead, your hands were running through his hair. You knew he always had a soft spot for that, and he always loved being touched by you. He was indeed touch starved, but he always worshiped you for touching him so softly, so kindly. Slowly, he started to calm down, although you could hear him sobbing.

"It wasn't real, Leon" you assured him, your voice calm and yet caring. He needed that. He needed to remain that he did all he could, and it wasn't his fault. "Nothing bad will ever happen to you again"

But he kept sobbing, his voice muffled by his face covered on your chest. And he cried and sobbed like that until he fell asleep again, tears falling through his face. You gently covered him with the blanket, and then you gave him another kiss on his forehead before you left his room again. You were tired as well. You missed your home, and you wanted so desperately to run away from the hospital. Your thoughts were interrupted by someone calling you, and when you saw 'Redfield' on the screen, you just sighed.

"Hey, you" Chris said when you picked up the phone.

"Hey, Redfield. What's up?" you ask him, walking around the entrance to the hospital, where you could hear the sound of the traffic and the city.

"How is he?" Chris's voice seems to be concerned, and you know he is worried about Leon. You glanced to the sky before thinking about everything that happened.

"He's fine... Leon woke up today, and to be fair, he's really tired" you tell Chris, still remembering everything that happened during your escape. Just the thought of Leon being so hurt like that made your stomach twist. "But I guess he'll be here for a couple of days"

"Yeah, I thought so" he said, and you could imagine him shaking his head, and you smiled. "Can you tell him I called?"

"Yeah, sure... I'll let him know," you said, nodding your head, although Chris wasn't there to see you. "How're you doing?"

"The same as always. I'm investigating a guy named Glenn Arias, and hopefully, I'll find him soon" Chris said, now sounding very excited. It was a surprise he had time to check on Leon. Sometimes, he was very busy at the BSAA. "But I need to get going, I just wanted to hear from you. Take care of yourself"

"Yeah, you too, asshole" you smirk slightly when you call him an asshole. Then, you heard him laugh as well before he ended the call. Your hands were shaking again, and you were starting to feel the consequences of what happened.

You weren't weak, but this time, you were feeling something different inside you.

Sure, seeing the love of your life almost die in front of your eyes while there was nothing you could do to stop that... You were tired and overwhelmed by something you had never felt before, and you hated it. You looked up again, observing the sky, trying to calm yourself and noticing the shapes of the clouds and the colors combined. It was beautiful.

You took a deep breath and then returned to his room. He was sleeping peacefully, although you could see his swollen eyes, the result of so many tears being released by his sudden breakdown. It was so unusual to see Leon vulnerable, but you knew that he was tired of saving everyone and having no one to save him or take care of him when he needed it. And you understood that you were the one to do that. You were his home and his safe place, the one he needed to assure him everything was fine.

Sometimes, he just needed you.

Saving the world was a tough job and took everything from him, except for you. Sometimes, he needed to feel your touch, feel your presence, and hear you tell him everything was fine the way they were. He wasn't the scared boy you met at Raccoon City. He was so different, and yet, he remained the same. His essence hasn't changed. Time couldn't break him, although it was rough.

He had to endure all over these years, but still, he was the same, Leon. His eyes only shine when you're around, and he can be very lovely and kind only with you, although he had a lot of trust issues you had to overcome with patience and love. Leon was your everything, and by now, you were seeing how close you were to losing him. And this memory was killing you inside, melting you like acid, poisoning your mind, and making you feel guilty.

"A penny for your thoughts" you hear his voice, even though he sounds husky for a moment. His eyes were swollen, but they were shining so beautifully.

"I thought you were sleeping" you smirk, sitting again on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "Chris called, just for you to know"

"He did?" Leon raised an eyebrow as he watched you nod your head. "Thanks, I'll talk to him when I leave"

"You should be sleeping" you said to him, sitting on the edge of his bed, making yourself comfortable.

"I can't sleep. I hate being in here, and I don't want to close my eyes..." he sighed heavily, avoiding looking at you. You knew what it was.

"It's okay to be afraid, you know?" you smiled gently, reaching for his hand. Your fingers tangled with his, as he slowly started to put his attention on you again. "We went through a lot, and we still have each other. This has to mean something, Leon"

"Do you think this will pass?" he asks you, and for a moment, you saw that he was truly scared. This was unusual, too, but you had to be there for him. He needed you.

"Yeah, I do. I have nightmares too, sometimes I'm afraid to sleep, I don't want them to scare me" you said to him, your voice full of empathy and kindness, as the comfort words were everything he needed at the moment. Leon seemed to be surprised, but he remained silent. "Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and look for you, to make sure you're here with me and safe... I know they twist your mind and make you feel worse, but they aren't real, and they can't hurt you. This is what I tell myself every night"

Leon nods his head as he silently asks for a hug. Your arms were around him in a warm hug, like you can protect him from everything else in the world. You both watched the sunrise outside. It was such a beautiful morning like it was telling you to start again. Like you both had a new chance to start a new chapter in your life.

"When you leave the hospital, we can start again, you know?" you ask him, your eyes still looking outside.

"What do you mean by that?" Leon glances at you, his eyes shining even more. They were like sapphires, and they had their glow. Such a beautiful pair.

"I won't risk losing you. I'm considering retirement... I've had my share of danger. And I'm done with it" you explained to him very calmly, but you were sure about your decision. The government could find someone else.

"Are you sure about that?" Leon asks you again, as he considers your words. You nodded again to him, and for some reason, you knew what he was thinking. "Maybe we can buy that house we've always wanted... travel the world like tourists and... grow old together"

"You don't have to retire just because I want to. I know you love your job and the adrenaline that comes with it... but I can't do this anymore" you tell him, trying to convince him to don't do anything he might regret later.

"Sweetheart, I know one day I won't be able to wake up again and see a sunrise like this. This time, I only escaped because you were there with me... but who knows what will happen next?" Leon said, his voice full of determination and certainty. He squeezed your hand to let you know he was convinced. "And if you won't be there with me, then I don't want to go alone"

You knew you couldn't change his mind. He was the type of person who once decided something, he wasn't going back. On the other hand, it was a tremendous surprise to see he was willing to retire just for you. He wanted so badly to have peace and a happy ending that he would do that.

"When I was a kid, I used to think about what kind of man I'd grow up to be. I never thought my life would turn out this way" Leon sighed heavily, avoiding looking at you while he was rethinking his entire life. It wasn't a secret to you that he was an orphan, that his parents were killed, and he was left alone, saved by a cop, which led him to become one of them. You just knew. "I keep fighting... and fighting and fighting. Instead of seeing an end to this shit, it just keeps getting worse. Is this what my life is supposed to be? Fighting the living dead and the bastards that make them? What's the point of it all? It feels like I'm stuck in a goddamn loop... how much longer can we keep going on like this?"

And there he was.

The broken man you loved and tried to heal over and over, the man you saved a thousand times. The same man that carried this trauma since the day you met, the same pain in those beautiful sapphire eyes. He was done. And you both knew that. He reaches for your hand, a desperate way to seek comfort, to know you both share the same thoughts and feelings. He needed to hear that. He needed to be sure you were on the same page.

"You never seemed so angry about something before..." you smirk, seeing his face relax for a moment. He hated talking about Raccoon City.

"I'm angry because the government wiped the city off the map and covered it all up, I'm angry because there were people alive in there. There were families alive in there. And they didn't even try to get them out. They also said it was a tough call" Leon sighed again, he never spoke like that before, it was like he was hiding it inside him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to let it all out. He needed to get out of that off his chest. "So, tough call my ass! You can not save a country if you don't give a damn about the people in it"

Then he sighed again. He was keeping it inside his chest for so long that he felt great to speak his mind without being concerned about the consequences. It felt so good to finally be able to say whatever he wanted because he knew you wouldn't complain or say otherwise to him.

"So, yeah, that's why I want to retire as well. I'm so done with this that I don't want to spend the rest of my life chasing freaks and preventing the end of the world. They can find someone as good as me" he finally looks at you, seeking some kind of approval, although he didn't need one.

For some reason, you didn't have an answer. Everything he needed at the moment was told through your eyes because you both shared a connection that sometimes, words were unnecessary. Leon felt relaxed when he noticed the way you were looking at him because you didn't have to say a word.

"I just don't want an end that means a coffin or wasting time with things that I don't like. I want to end my life living peaceful days without being scared and traumatized... I want to be happy" Leon finished his vent with a sigh of pure relief. He leaned back his head against the pillow, feeling a bit exhausted.

"Then I promise you, sweetie, we'll have the happy ending we both deserve." you smiled gently at him, finding the proper words to express yourself and to make sure he felt embraced. He just smiled at you, his eyes shining again. "You know, we create such unnecessary pain for ourselves"

"What do you mean by that?" Leon raises an eyebrow, his face slowly confused. He was so adorable when he was like that.

"Remember when we first met? You asked me about my perception of what happened in there, and I told you I was elaborating... I think now I have the answer" you said to him, smiling again. It was weird to think about that after so many years, but finally, it would have some conclusions.

"Yes, and what's your answer?"

"We think we're a failure because no one loves us. It's like we only exist if there's someone who sees us. Our life only has worth if we're living for someone else" you explained to him, your eyes looking outside the window, as you think about everything and everyone. "That restlessness we feel? It's our souls crying out to be set free from all the deceit we've been forced to believe"

"Your perception of the world always amuses me. I wish I could see things the way you see them" his voice is kind. He always loved to hear you, to listen to your voice as it helped him calm down during his dark days. You were light to his darkness.

Your face slightly turns red. It was weird. You always love to tease him and make him blush, but when he does the same to you, oh, dear God... you can't even react. He's the only one that has the power to make you speechless, the one that makes you blush harder and the same that makes your heart beat faster inside your chest. This man was Leon Scott Kennedy, and he would always have your heart.

"I love you" he said to you before starting to close his eyes.

"I know"

[ego-meliorem-esse]

inspired from your post on arthur's love for alfred being compared to his home, what would arthur's affinity (i don't think it's love? but more like fondness?) for matthew look like as a house?

I wrote this more in Matthews POV, not Arthurs and realised too late. I'm sorry :/

Mathieu comes under Arthurs care in 1763. His home is both prepared yet also unprepared. Alfred is the beloved son who lacks nothing, is granted every wish, from literature of his choice, to expensive astronomy equipment. Yet, while this home is very child proof and child accomodating, it's all those things for a particular child though: Alfred. For a whole year Arthurs home is Alfred centered. That started to change, but I'm afraid not by Arthurs will or trying. Alfred found his platonic soulmate in his brother. They become inseperable. Matt starts to speak more English and Alfred is asking him for his oppinion more and more. Eventually even Arthur finds out what Matts interests are.

At a certain point the boys room becomes his own. The furniture is a fine dark wood color, it matches. But not in a painful way for Matthew. The wood is scratched and old. It's used and clearly loved. The boy has a good quality bed with dark red bedding and missmatched pillows. The matress is fine too. It's new. Matthew appreciates that. By the side of the bed stands a wayy too large drawer, and atop it are notebooks. some used to write in some to sketch in. Mathieu, now Matthew, is sketching less and less though. He's smiling more. He is playing outside more. He hasn't touched a rifle in a while. The only blood he sees is when Alfred cuts himself on the book page he is turning. He considers his brother to be slightly annoying in the beginning, though as time passes, Alfreds charm and kindness shines brighter than any negative notion Matthew has of his brother.

His room isn't empty. Even if no-one is occupying it at times, it's still very much full of life. And not only by his own things, but with knickknacks Alfred brought and left there. Alfred doesn't like Matthew's room. He doesn't like that the window in his brother's room face north. It gets less sunlight and that's something that annoys Alfred a lot. There is also a rather large tree in front of Matthews window that obstructs any view of the nights sky. Very annoying to Alfred.

But Matthew is not Alfred. Matthew's room is the best and safest place the boy has ever had. It's not cold at night and the door is opposite of the window. Also, he gets to choose where his desk is to be placed. He settled next to the window, but changes it quite a bit.

He is on guard and tense less and less as time flows. He starts to live in his new home instead of staying in Monsieur Kirklands house. Matthew is not keeping company to the lord's son anymore, but playing and jumping and telling stories with his brother.

The feeling of being an imposter and not belonging never truly left the boy, but feelings of being care free and happy buried the insecurities quite deep down in his chest.

Naturally, life seems to have a personal vendetta against the boy, so as the 12th year of his new life comes to a close, things change and feelings hidden float up.

The feelings resurfaced after Alfred stubbornly decided that he ought to buy passage on a commercial ship headed to Boston. The fear of being not wanted or needed came back when Matthew received a letter from Alfred telling him that he wasn't coming back "home". The only family he had, had left him once again. The feeling of being left to fend for himself pierced a cannon shaped hole in his heart once more. It wasn't until the early 20th century that he would actually consider Arthur his father, not just a mentor and patron. So in his mind he was left again with no family.

And so his room changed. He left fewer and fewer belongings out in sight on tables, drawers and the bed. His room was clean and clothes tucked away. He didn't draw anymore and the books he read were the ones which found themselves already in his room.

It's funny how our mental state reflects in the spaces we occupy. I need to clean my room.

[ackermelon]

double shot espresso

nanami kento x reader

word count: 1.47k

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, so fluffy you might suffocate (I'm sorry)

*˚:✧｡ After a long night of gaming, you find yourself being pulled back to reality by the pigeons' coos outside your window. Your eyes gawk at the purple sky, the golden flares of the emerging sun peeking through the soft tufts of cloud. You go to admire the view from the balcony, but quickly remember the soundly sleeping man inside. Dragging him out of the warm confines of your shared bed and into the chill air of dawn, Nanami wordlessly holds you while you marvel at the start of a new day. *˚:✧｡

A/N: I genuinely cannot express how much fun I had writing this one. I was definitely NOT giggling and kicking my legs. I love him *cries*.

the comfort café masterlist

this series is inspired by the teacup collection by @seokmingiggles

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You pried your eyes off the bright screen at the first coo outside the open window to your right, only for the early rays of the morning to greet you from behind the cotton-candy clouds, a pinkish-purplish hue to them as the sun began to rise.

You let the controller fall onto the couch beside you, rising to your feet – your toes had started to go numb as you sat in the same position for the past hour. Taking a few steps forward, you reached out to hold onto the windowsill, taking in the sky in all its different hues, birds scarcely flying across the wide expanse of it.

With your job picking up its pace before the holidays began, you found less and less time to engage in hobbies you used to enjoy – and even lesser time to stay up all night building a Sims household. You thought you would regret it, wishing you had gone to sleep when your boyfriend did; but with this view spread out before you, you’re beginning to think otherwise. While your boyfriend enjoyed going to sleep early when he had the time, you enjoyed gaming all night and watching as the sun peeked through the horizon.

You made your way to the balcony door, but your fingers paused at the handle. Abruptly turning around, your soles padded softly against the hardwood floor as you made your way through the short hallway of your apartment. You twisted the knob to the master bedroom, peeking your head inside, an easy smile curving the corners of your lips. Despite being a proper, well-kept man, Nanami slept as if he had a personal vendetta with the sheets – limbs all tangled up with the blanket, his pillows beaten and thrown all around the bed and floor. Aside from the one under his head, and the other between his legs – or under them, as he laid on his stomach. His shirt had ridden up in his sleep to reveal a slither of his toned torso, one of his pant legs halfway up his calf. Amidst the chaos he had brought about the bed and its surroundings, his face looked the exact opposite – at peace. Soft puffs of air left his nose, the faintest of snores that he will swear up and down, left and right, are nothing but a hallucination. Because Nanami Kento does not snore, and saying he does is considered profanity in his book. So you play along, taking his side when Gojo and Geto – his managers – decide to team up and tease him, leaving him helpless as he refuses to talk back to his superiors.

You found yourself leaning on the doorframe, the ticking from the clock on the wall acting as background noise as you took in the steady rise and fall of his back. Then you snapped out of it, standing up straight and clearing your throat, realizing that if he were to wake up right now – as unlikely as that was – and encounter the dreamy eyes being directed at him, he would never let you live it down. That, and the fact that if you were to stare for any longer, you would miss the bewitching scenery just outside your window. You wondered if it was cruel to wake him up when he looked so at ease, but realized that it would be even crueller enjoying the sunrise without him by your side.

You gradually made your way to the bed, sitting down by his waist and resting a palm on his shoulder blade. You shook him once, twice, and he was up, bolting upright and sucking in a deep breath of air, as if he had been deprived of it in his sleep. You flinch even though you had expected it. The man may sleep tranquilly, but never wakes in that manner.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, nearly panting, bleary eyes looking you up and down. His voice was hoarse with sleep, brushing off the remnants of his dream. You wondered if he had been dreaming of you.

You smiled fondly, reaching out to squeeze his hand, the gentle touch calming his racing heart. “Let’s watch the sunrise together.”

Nanami Kento – a man loved and admired for being prim and elegant – rubbing his eye as you led him by the hand through your apartment, blonde locks tousled and pointing in different directions, pant leg still halfway up his calf. It was almost adorable – a man of his stature, following you like a lost puppy.

There were only a few things Nanami loved in life: finishing work on time, deli sandwiches, sleep, and – most of all – you. Why else would he allow you to interrupt his beloved slumber, dragging him out into the crisp air while even some birds remained dormant?

He waited for you by the balcony door as you collected a few cushions from the couch where you had spent your night. Nanami felt more awake after he had rubbed his eye dry, with enough awareness to go through the linen closet, tucking a few blankets under his arms. He walked outside where you had laid the pillows down, taking the blankets from him with a grin splitting your face. Cute, he thought. You were the most beautiful when you were excited, even at the break of dawn. You built a makeshift fort on the tiled floor, his hands warm as they brushed against yours. His body more so as you finally settled against it, your back flush against his chest while you stared ahead.

The sky was more orange than pink now, the glowing arc of the sun parting from the horizon. The stars that once scattered the breadth of the sky now swallowed up by the golden flares. The chill of the night still stuck around, not yet ready to part from the earth for the day, and a shiver ran through your body. Nanami unravelled himself from you momentarily, reaching behind him for a spare blanket before wrapping it around his shoulders, bringing it around to close around your frame. His arms held you tighter, waves of heat rushing through your skin. His head rested on one of your shoulders, warm breath blowing against your skin as his chest rose and fell against your back.

You half-expected a chiding on his end for staying up so late, but he remained silent, breathing in the early morning breeze while you watched the start of a new day.

“This is nice,” you spoke, voice soft as if not to cut through the quiet. Your smile was just as soft, an easy twist to the corner of your lips, eyes unwavering as you watched the sky change colours – from a bright magenta, to a fiery orange, and gradually to a radiant yellow.

Nanami hummed, planting a tender kiss to the crook of your neck, your skin cool against the warmth of his lips. He places a few more – on your nape, your clothed shoulder, your cheek. Anywhere he could reach without disturbing the comfortable position you were sat in, legs tangled and fingers interlocked under the fleecy blanket. His head found its way back to your shoulder, relaxing against the cotton of your shirt.

“It’s beautiful,” you added, eyes wandering, moving from one side of the sky to the other, taking in the view as though this was your last chance to do so.

Nanami hummed again. “It truly is.”

You continued to stare ahead, but Nanami’s eyes lingered on you. He would never tell you, but for the entirety of the hour you had spent on that balcony, Nanami didn’t look at the sky once.

After the sun found its rightful place between the clouds, and the sky lost its yellow hue, making way for soft blue, Nanami forced you into bed. Although you felt wide awake, you found yourself dozing off rather quickly, engulfed within the warmth of Nanami’s arms. And yet, you rose before he did. The blackbirds and robins had long since ceased their melodies, the shining star smiling at you from the centre of the sky as you stared out the kitchen window. Your hands worked while your thoughts remained elsewhere, perhaps musing about the man resting just a few doors down the hallway. Plucking out his favourite mug from the cupboard, you placed it in its allotted space in the machine, watching the creamy stream of coffee pool into the ceramic. The fresh aroma of the espresso danced through the kitchen – a scent you associated entirely with Nanami.

He should be up soon, you thought. Considering you saw him every day, you figured the giddiness you felt whenever you thought about him would fade away. And yet, here you were, smiling at the fresh cup of coffee you had brewed, hoping he would wake soon, ready to spend another day enveloped within his warm embrace.

[aurae-rori]

hi friend, i am literally so glad i've found another dr. ratio enjoyer! you're literally such a great writer and I love your character analyses.

anyways, my curiosity is peaked, how is children of the city dr. ratio core?

First of all, thank you so much - haha, I'm glad that you enjoy my analyses and writings. I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get back to you - I had a few things to take care of, but I'm going to do a full analysis in your honour!

Analysis under the cut, because it gets really long. :)

"Sleep for a total of 800 hours per day And then drink a liter of milk Warm-up before you go play Only eat, or write Or pull the trigger with your right hand Only thing that's left Is to work on following commands"

I'm totally not projecting my gifted child trauma here, nuh uh... Anyway, my personal HC for Ratio is that his child might have felt monotonous being in classes that he was already too "intelligent" for. Learning things at a quicker pace than other children, absorbing knowledge up like a sponge - sure, the praise is nice, but after awhile, especially when you get to higher levels, intelligence isn't enough to carry you. You have to put diligence, effort, blood sweat and tears into what you're studying for, especially if you want to make a change, like how Dr. Ratio wanted to. It. must have gotten lonely, getting up only to do more researcher, eating only to go back to work. Following a schedule is wonderful, and he would have enjoyed the routine, but after being isolated from other people along with that, it might have made him feel subhuman or less than human for only being there for the studying of more knowledge. Eat, study, work, repeat. This is more of a personal HC rather than something canon, though. :)

"By the time you realize You'll be restrained to a desk And with your dreams on the floor, you comply Eyes chained to the test In 30 minutes, find a groom or bride Bonus if brunette In 90 hours, spill their insides Paint your room picturesque"

I feel like the prospect of romance is pushed onto children at a very young age - and that can be applied to Dr. Ratio. Who knows what romantic beliefs that he grew with? However, I believe this is less of him observing himself, but more of him seeing what the education system does to others, and how society molds others into the person that they "should" be, rather than what they want to be. Also, it could be a reference to academic trauma and placing all your self worth in your grades.

"Now it's time for another vendetta Going through the shelves Picking out my pre-written persona (ha-ah-ah) Children of the city sees only the neon stars Reflected upon the murky gutter sky Don't ask me why I desperately wish to be included in the city's night"

This is how I see Dr. Ratio holding a grudge against the Aeons and other figures of authority. We are all expected to be "good" and "well-behaved", and yet, we all look to the "city's night" - the approval of those who are in a higher position of us. We want to gain the approval and the praise of our parents, of our teachers - it's natural, after. We want to be included in the "city's night" - in Dr. Ratio's case, the gaze of Nous. He wants to be acknowledged by Nous and let into the Genius Society because his beliefs that were instilled into him as a child dictate that since he is hailed as a genius, he should be seen as one by the Aeons, right? However, I'd like to point out the usage of the words "neon stars" - stars are not neon. This implies that the stars are fake - I can also see this as a pointer to the idea of there system itself being fake, or societal "norms" being fake, as we are all unique.

"In four hundred thousand meters, turn right

Pick up a knife and stab a familiar warm body Learned to fight before I knew love or bitterness of coffee Snippy scissors cut down the strings I set myself free Only to figure out everything I chose was by proxy"

Dr. Ratio following orders until he doesn't. Fitting in until he gives up on it. Setting himself free from the chains of what is expected from him of other people, but not by the Aeons - no, that's something that still stays with him. However, I like to interpret the idea of a "familiar warm body" being his own childhood - killing the child that you used to be in favour of facing the future. Coffee is also something commonly regarded as students or workers using it to keep awake during long periods of work and study - it talks about how he has known to fight for himself, or fight for what he wants, before he was told to suck it up and just work for the sake of others, for the sake of the authority. However, this might feel scripted to him as well, with the mention of a "proxy" - it was a decision someone else made for him, maybe? Who knows? Maybe his selflessness was originally chosen by someone else, and drilled into him?

"As we suckled upon the nine millimeter pacifier Swallowing the fact that other than to expand We had no purpose As my ever-burning will to stay afloat backfires I now know I must be comfortable being Who I considered worthless"

This is definitely expanding on the idea of being raised to just be used by the authorities. Also, this can also be a representation of the way that he calls himself "mundane" - he was called a genius and raised as one, and now that Nous has not seen him, he must be "mundane" and he must come to terms that he is exactly what he wasn't called growing up. None of their words of praise have any meaning any more, because in the all seeing gaze of an Aeon, he is nothing.

"Follow the city's ribbon To a heart nobody seems to listen It takes my heart being broken and broken again (broken and broken again) To know that I am the reason why (the reason why) The sufferings never end"

As Dr. Ratio uncovers the truth of his childhood and the truth of why he was raised this way, the empathy that he has suppressed comes back up. And this is it - because he feels for others, because he is so incredibly human, that is the reason why his suffering does not end. He cannot detach himself like other people, like other geniuses, and treat life with little to no care. He cannot, because he loves, and that is his fatal flaw. He listens to his heart, as well as his mind, and that does not make him a genius in the eyes of an Aeon.

"Do not go home until you finish reading the value of E. 2.71 8281 8284 5904 5235 3602 8747 1352 6624 9775 7247 0936 9995 9574 9669 6762"

"E" is a mathematical constant, and therefore is logical. It's called the base of a natural logarithm, and while my knowledge in that area is limited, the fact that it is called a "constant" means that it cannot change, just like all numbers cannot. It might be a representation of the idea of Dr. Ratio trying again to fit in with others, only to fail once more, even though he knows all the rules. He was simply born in a different way, doomed from the start. It wasn't his fault.

He was just human.

You can also see this as Dr. Ratio observing the world as he grows up in an "apathetic" and "detached" way - as he pushes down his own emotions in favour of staring at his own success to help others, knowing that his empathy will not get him anywhere in terms of a cruel world. However, he cannot help it.

Ultimately, "Children of the City" is about how we are raised in a society that forces the idea of work on us ever since we are young. We do not get to cherish our childhoods nor our youth, and are immediately turned to the prospect of how we can provide value to society. We are raised in a never ending cycle like machines, to be puppets to corporations, to be slaves by the desire of the majority, to never have free will of our own.

Summoning @ironunderstands @pepper-demon @misty-lilies @sleepyburito :)