#so i could only finish this by posting it on the former just to edit it on the latter lmao

[ace-the-fox]

Random question you don’t have to answer but, does haruka ever find out that Kira was the one pregnant with her, not Reimi? And if so how would she react to that information? 😂

OH. THIS IS A GOOD ONE, HOL' UP, HOL' UP—

Never actually thought about this before, and I have two possible answers, lol:

I don't see being pregnant as something Kira talks about often, given how much he despised it. So it was either a) something he mentioned off-handedly when Haru was a tween/teen or b) something Haru was never told but figured out herself when she realised that her mom died before she was born.

Either way, if it's in a universe where this is uncommon if not impossible (I never give an explanation for how mpreg works in any of my fanfics so god knows lmao), she's pretty stunned and a little weirded out at the thought... but then, given that all her dad's girlfriends are decaying hands and her closest friend (bar Momo ofc) is the ghost cat thing she got by getting stabbed with an arrow, she probably rationalises that it's not the weirdest thing in her life. And, if Kira does tell her, they never speak of it again :)

[feeder86]

Feeder 86: The Top Ten

Can you believe that the Feeder86 ‘Orginal Gainer Stories’ blog will soon be posting the two hundredth story? I thought of many ways to celebrate. But then I stopped and realised that I would probably be best using the time to address one of the questions I get asked about most frequently. Which of the stories do I personally like the most?

This was not an easy list to make as I very rarely go back to re-read my own work after I have finished editing and posting them. This is not because I do not like them, but because I always see bits that I want to change. Nevertheless, this project was the perfect opportunity to revisit a few oldies that I remember being very proud of at the time. 

Hopefully you will see this list for what it is: a glimpse into how I write, my motivations and drive; rather than just a self indulgent pat on the back for myself. Yuck!

So, with that being said, let us begin...

#10 The Feeders’ Formula: This tale certainly had to be placed into the list. After all, it is the one that kicked off ‘Original Gainer Stories’ all those years ago. There are many amazing examples of instant body weight transformation stories out there. I felt that I needed to write this one as my contribution to the genre. It went down well at the time. I swiftly wrote a Part Two, then followed it up with others (The Feeders’ Formation, The Feeders’ Formalities, The Feeders’ Foreclosure, The Feeders’ Forecast, The Feeders’ Former Years), becoming something of an ongoing saga in recent years; focusing on the different Feeders from that very first meeting. As a writer who sometimes struggles to find the ending, these are wonderful to write as they all have the same inevitable conclusion. There is also so much freedom to be had when you’re working with characters who are pretty much pure evil. I know so much more about the Feeders than I’ve ever written down, so it is great to tease out those little details with each new installment. The newest of these tales (The Feeders’ Foreplay) was the darkest yet, but seems to have provoked a very favourable reaction from many. Who knows what the Feeders may get up to next? I do! And you can find out too, once we start a whole new sweeps season of stories this April! Come with me into The Feeders' Fortress!

#9 Only One: Where do I start? Only One has my absolute favourite type of feeder. Ben is big, sexy and very in control. He’s one of those rare types of guys who always stays on top and is a step ahead of absoultely everyone he meets. Who wouldn’t fall for him? I certainly did! In fact, I loved him so much that I wrote an entire prequel for him (and none of you even noticed!) Check out Rewire if you want to see how Ben became the man we know and love.

#8 The Wright Boys: The idea of a weight gain that cannot be stopped or controlled is a tempting one for many. How much easier would it be if you didn’t have to second guess your choices or face the pressure to lose weight? This was the first tale of what I see as ‘The Curses’ saga that eventually bled into many other stories (including another one on this list!) and culminated in Wright vs Beckett. However, this story remains my personal favourite of these. If you’re a fan of looking for crossovers between my stories, these are some of the most explicitly linked. I followed it up with a spin-off tale (The Wright Boys: DNA), but continue to have ideas about how I could go back to these boys in the future. Watch this space.

#7 Making Monsters: The title of this story really does give away how I felt about it at the time. This is quite the saga, spread over into not just two, but three parts! It began as a story that was very similar to Blackmailed; a tale that I had written previously about a guy voyeristically enjoying seeing his friend fatten up her boyfriend. However, this story evolved even further for me, with Tommy’s love of eating and gaining weight being both his greatest love, and his biggest shame. His denial only heightened the tension for me, and, when he does eventually give in, the gains feel all the more satisfying as a result.

#6 The Pig Feed: It’s not easy to write a gainer story where there isn’t another character spurring the events along and encouraging things. In this tale however, that role is given to a very tasty and surprisingly addictive pig feed mixture that Steve gets himself hooked on. It’s a story that I really enjoyed writing and still feel very happy with. I have considered writing more stories around this interesting feed. However, I am yet to do so; deciding (for now at least) that things are perhaps best left as they are. But, feel free to let me know your thoughts on this.

#5 Farm Boy: Whether you grew up in a big city, or a small rural community, like Hayden in this story, we can all relate to having desires and attractions that those around us don’t understand. And, thanks to how well connected we are these days, we now know what it’s like to realise that you’re not actually alone, and the whirlwind of excited emotions that follow. I enjoyed writing this story because I, quite simply, fell completely in love with Hayden. As kinky as he was, he still retained that fresh faced innocence throughout. If any of my characters were destined to be together forever, I imagine that these two would be my top choice.

#4 Keeping a Crush: This is one of those stories that I wrote in a matter of hours, and I was so pleased with it when I was done. Getting the train to go to work is not necessarily something that many Americans have to do, and so the location had to be switched to the UK (quite refreshing, I thought!). For me, it’s one of those really rare instances where placing very solid restrictions on the structure of a story (In this case, having it all take place during the commute to and from work) and finding that it actually elevates the sexual tension and mood. All scenes take place in public settings. All conversations could, in theory, be overheard. These days, so many people meet online and flirt for weeks by messaging back and forth, before they even see each other for the first time. Nowadays, for better or for worse, the actual, real fantasy is finding a connection with someone you just see in the real world; perhaps with a person you literally just met on the way to work...

If you’ve not read this one, I really would highly recommend it.

#3 To the Max: Stories with a magical element to them are either loved or hated. However, I find that this tale walks that line very successfully. Ned gets his hands on a love potion and makes straight guy, Max, fall for him. I’m sure we’ve all been there with that fantasy! However, it is in the consequences of inviting someone into your life, someone that you actually know very little about, that the entire eroticism of this story is based. I won’t spoil it for those who have not read it, but believe me when I say that things soon start getting very interesting indeed…

#2 Tommy’s Two Hundred. Don’t recognise this one? Well, that's because none of you have read it yet. 

Now, I’m not just saying this because I want you all to come back for the two hundreth story, but this is genuinely one of my absolute favourites. For my big milestone stories in the past, I have written something specifically for that event (Wright vs Beckett, The Seven Feeders of Finn). However, this is just a tale that I adored writing and decided to hold back for you all, especially for this occasion. It’s a story of domination and submission within a fairly open, but very kinky, relationship. Strapping Hunter plays the part of a very controlling feeder, making me break many of my own rules and stretching my boundaries to the absolute limits. You’ll either love him, or you’ll hate him. That’s all I’m going to say…

Also, this story is going to be the first Feeder86 story that will be fully illustrated. It’s all thanks to the amazing talents of Spellwell9 who was given an advanced copy and asked to imagine the characters in four different scenes. I cannot wait for you to see this!

Put it in your diary. All will be revealed from Friday 5th April…

#1 F80 Control: This is perhaps a controvercial choice (especially as my #1). I have previously admitted that this story strays a little from its purpose of being a gainer story. In other words, I get very caught up in the background story that is being told. However, I feel that the science fiction genre is surprisingly underused in tales of weight gain. Yet, the combination of Aritificial Intelligence and submission seemed, to me, to be the perfect blend. It really is a beast of a story if you can follow it all the way through to its conclusion. 

With the advent of improved artificial intelligence software in recent years, I felt the time was right to develop the world further, with the addition of F80 Ctrl Alt Del; a spin-off tale set slightly before the main story. Then, unable to help myself, I followed this up again with another companion story, F80: Kidnap and Control. 

The reason I chose this universe as my favourite is because this is where I am happiest writing. With AI, I don’t need to consider the morality or motivations - I know exactly what their aims are and I can see multiple ways in which it will cause conflict with humanity (and their waistlines!) I would also love to write more for this world one day, and I even left a little unused subplot in the last story that I think would provide the perfect starting-off point for another chapter. Will I ever write it? Well, we’ll have to wait and see…

So, there you have it! The the complete list!

This was a much harder exercise than I expected when I first embarked upon it. Stories like: Jiggle the Jock, Meticulous, Rule Number One, Freaks, Leftovers I and II, Ethan: The Secret Feeder and, not fogetting The Consequences I, II and III all crept in and out of the list, unfortunatley missing out on the final cut. There are many, many others, of course. But this list cannot go on forever...

So, why not tell me which ones were your favourites? Feel free to write in the comments and post a link to any other stories that you have enjoyed from myself, or from other authors. Hopefully, if we all work together, this could become a great resource for people in the future, filled with signposts and reccommendations.  

Also, don’t forget the Feeder86 Contents page where you can find links and descriptions of all the 200 stories posted so far (as well as plot outlines for upcoming tales as well). Please continue to enjoy the vast catalogue of stories, and even have a go yourself! I love supporting the many new gainer fiction writers who contact me. So please do get in touch if you need advice, or to talk through your ideas. Let’s all encourage a whole new generation of people to get typing away! I’m sure you will cheer them on just as much as I will.

Thank you to everyone who supports the stories blog here on Tumblr. Keep checking in every Friday througout April for a whole new sweeps season to celebrate this milestone. Stories will include: Tommy's Two Hundred, Train for a Gain, The Feeders' Fortress and The 1% (a companion story to The 5%). For now, I thank you all for taking time out to sit and read the very bizarre tales that sprout from my mind. You are all wonderful.

Happy 200 stories!

Feeder86

[notelcol]

A rivals desire 🌹

Non gender specific rival/lover✨

A little story inspired by the Wanderers ‘about us: rivals’ voiceline. In this story, reader is studying in Vahamuna with the Wanderer and is his only true academic rival. You and he are the only ones able to really challenge each others work. It will, of course, be set in Sumeru post it’s archon quest.

Mildly edited, apologies for mistakes🫶

——-

“So, you're still stewing over our run-ins from before? Huh. Well, what are you going to do about it? Take your time. I'm in no hurry.” The Wanderer scowled at you, referring to the time you helped thwart his plans to become a god.

“For the last time. No!” Your voice became faster and louder as you continued. “Unlike you, I can let things go!” You glared at him.

“If you aren’t out for revenge, then why would you rebuke my paper?!” He leaned closer as he waved your latest paper around. “Why else would you make a point of disputing every paper I submit?” His voice became quiet, full of venom with a touch of vulnerability.

“I rebuked your paper because it was short sighted. Same as all the others.” You told him. “Your takes on history and society are factually correct and full of potential, yes. But, you always fail to see the true story.” You say, slightly distracted by how close you stood to him. “You miss out the heart of everything by only focusing on the tangible parts. True insight comes from mixing the facts with the feelings that follow in their wake.” You explained, eyes flicking to the ground as you finished talking and realised how long you’d been maintaining eye contact.

When he didn’t reply, you returned his gaze again. He seemed to be lost in his mind, you could almost see the churning of waves behind his blue eyes.

“So you’re telling me, that to reach academic greatness I must tap into my emotions to find the heart of things?” He asked incredulously before scoffing. “You realise I don’t have a heart right?” He folded his arms and raised a brow as he spoke. His words made you chuckle.

“The heart just pumps blood around a body. The brain is where all thoughts and feelings lie….surely you have one of those don’t you?” You smirked.

“Yes. Very funny.” He deadpanned. You rolled your eyes.

“Well, if we’re done here?” You gestured to the path you were on your way down before he interrupted your journey.

“Wait!” He grabbed your wrist as you began to turn away. “If you think you know so much, then show me. Show me how to achieve ‘true insight’.”

You deliberated his request for no where near long enough, given the task it would be to get this man to view society in a sympathetic way.

“Fine. Lesson one. Tell me one emotion you are familiar with feeling.” You looked expectantly, assuming he would give you an immediate answer. After mulling it over he opened his mouth..and then closed it again, before finally speaking.

“Desire.”

“Good! That’s good, you can tap into that. Think of something you want and go after it. Study that feeling. Then when you succeed, focus on how you feel when you get whatever it is you want and it will lead you to another emotion to study.“

“This is ridiculous. Talking about feelings to better writing, how warped.” He grumbled.

“You sound like Azar.” You shook your head at him, remembering the former grand sage.

“Don’t compare me to that old fool!” Offence tainted the Wanderer’s words. “I am nothing like that failure. I am better.” His breath fanned your face as he argued with you.

“Then stop acting like him and prove it! I wouldn’t ‘make a point’ of challenging you all the time if I didn’t believe you could be brilliant.” You exclaimed. His eyes darted around your face as he seemed to freeze. You watched him wade through his mind, slowly you could see his soul becoming clearer in the distance. You had lost yourself in his eyes and possibly would have stayed that way for eternity if he hadn’t grabbed your cheeks, shocking you back to reality. He almost looked as confused as you, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened as the space between you closed, but when his fingers started stroking your cheek as he kissed you, you couldn’t help but melt. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and you let yourself fall into the kiss. You swore you could feel him smile right before he pulled away.

“Peace.” He spoke as he rested his forehead on yours. “The fruition of my desire leads to peace.”

——-

Thank you for reading 🌹

[zirobitches]

One Piece: Soulmate AU

Always in this twilight - Crocodile x GN!Reader

Summary: Soulmates are incapable of hurting each other. As a pirate, this leads to some tragic moments midst battles. You thought you were prepared for when it might happen to you, but damn you were wrong.

Gn! Reader, Angst no comfort, no beta we die like Roger, Reader is Croc's First Mate and a former Roger pirate (Shanks/Buggy's age) but it doesnt really matter, also former slave background, congrats you are now in the place of my self insert OC, no promises on not being cringe this is literally a /reader fic, also had to make a fake crew bc we dont know enough crocs backstory HAND IT OVER ODA

Word count: 4500+

Also first fic on tumblr, idk what im doing here, lmk ur opinions. It is now 2:03am and i have class at 10:30. Might have to skip lmao

EDITS: grammar check lol. also cross posted it on ao3 - same name as my blog

-----------

Soulmates weren't as common as you'd might assume when you first hear about it. There's an easy way to prove someone is your soulmate, but when that method is to harm them, well, it doesn't make it easy to find that person. And society gets a bit weird when you know your soulmate is out there.

you've known that some people carry around little needles to poke into strangers hoping to find the one. But that was in decent society; among pirates you more often heard tales of bullets suddenly dropping to the ground after they hit their target, or swords stopping on someone's skin as though it just hit steel. A battlefield is a hell of a place to meet the person fate had decided for you, but for pirates it had become a norm.

Not that long ago, some genius named Vegapunk did a study on how many people meet their soulmate - 1 in a 100. And that's just how many people find them. It never accounts for how many actually happily end up together. You had chosen to live your life as a pirate, so a happy ending with your supposed soulmate wasn't something you foresaw in your future.

You were always grateful most of your current crew felt the same. There was a small group among pirates that were always on the lookout to find their soulmate and then immediately retire. Your crew however like to joke that if they found them in battle, they would move out of the way so someone else could finish them off. It was a grim reality, but it was your reality.

However, on nights like these where you drank the night away, some romantic always had to bring it up.

"C'mon, did old Roger really make you so cold hearted that you don't believe in true love?"

"Pfft, you're fucking joking right?" You scoffed back. You always argued with Tink about this, but you understood your young navigator still had hope. Too bad you were the pessimist of the crew.

"It's not that I don't believe in true love," you continued. "Soulmates are real, I don't really see another explanation for not being able to harm only one other person in the world. But why limit yourself to waiting for a person you might never meet? So many are denying themselves to fall in love with someone else and then end up dying alone because they never found their soulmate."

Tink pouted in front of you. This was a tired conversation, one that was repeated every few weeks much to the chagrin of your other crewmates. But a controversial topic was always a great topic for a group such as yourselves.

"I'm not denying myself the chance to fall in love! I'm denying ever feeling heartbroken over someone who doesn't matter!" Tink tried to argue back, but you just groaned in response.

"And if you never meet the one? You'll just live and die without ever letting yourself even get a taste of what it is you're chasing." Tink glared, knowing it was futile to keep going, but the pink of her cheeks told you that the grog in her system was trying to get her to keep fighting.

It was then that a familiar tall figure caught your eye. There was your beloved captain Crocodile, trying to sneak behind everyone's back to grab another bottle for himself.

Crocodile was never much one for festivities, at least not one 'undeserved' as he might put it. While there was no battle won to celebrate, the night sky was clear and the waters calm; in the Grand Line, shouldn't that be enough to be happy about?

However tonight you weren't going to let him sneak booze and hide from the crew.

"Cap'n!" Apparently the grog was getting to you as well. "Come over here and help me crush Tink's dream of a soulmate!" You laughed as Tink gasped at your audacity. The rest of your company seemed more or less happy with how the night was going, but your captain was still less than enthused to join.

"If this is the same soulmate debate you've been going on about for the past 3 years, I will pass again. You already know my feelings on the matter." Crocodile's deep voice reverberated across the deck of the ship. Even if he wasn't giving orders, he still commanded the attention of everyone within earshot.

He gave a long drag of the bottle in his hand, and then turned to walk away. However you felt it was your duty as first mate to pester your captain into spending casual time with his crew.

"I may know your opinion, but would you be so kind and gracious to remind the rest of the crew? Perhaps?" You called out to the dark coat trying to run from the party, and saw him pause, then turn to walk back.

You could see some of the newer additions to the crew cower. You didn't blame them, Crocodile was an imposing figure, and was developing a infamous reputation as a pirate on the Grand Line. But he was your captain, and he would never hurt his crew, this you knew.

"If I ever met my soulmate," Crocodile began, "I assume it would be when I attempt to kill them." He took another sip from his bottle. This was one of the rare moments he was not puffing a cigar you suddenly realize. It made his face look younger, as though he was actually a man in his 20s as he claimed he was.

As though he knew you were thinking of him, Crocodile made eye contact with you. "When I realize I can't kill them, I'll call out for you." You felt your heart skip a beat. "Then you can finish them for me."

It was purely the grog's fault for making your face warm. The lack of a sea breeze was also suddenly apparent. But you couldn't be flustered, not when you were the one who asked for this answer.

You smiled, doing your best to brush off the tension. You were still maintaining eye contact with him after all. "Well there you have it. Not exactly the opinion I remember, but I hope I can live up to your expectations, Cap'n."

Crocodile nodded, then told you all to start to sober up or get to bed. "I don't need a crew of drunks on the Grand Line, or else we will never make it to the New World."

Your crew began to disperse and you went below deck to your cabin. You really hadn't had much to drink that night, yet your chest felt tight.

You thought you had learned your lesson, but no. Even after promising yourself you wouldn't, you became attached to your crew. Even after your last one fell apart. Even after you watched your first captain, your savior, be executed, you fucked up and dove straight into a different crew expecting it to be different.

You laid down in your bed, staring at the ceiling, the world slightly spinning. Suddenly all you can think about is when you met Croc.

-

It was little more than 3 years ago now, wasn't it? A whole 3 years since Roger died. The weight is still heavy in your chest, but not nearly as devastating as it was in Logue Town that day. You were a wreck, physically and emotionally.

After watching the execution, you were too heartbroken to join the others in pursuit of the One Piece. Your world has just officially ended, the crew was technically already disbanded, but now there was no hope of getting it back.

You ended up in some local bar. No one recognized you, and in the haze of all the excitement following Roger's death, why would they? You had just been some nobody apprentice who happened to stick on his ship after Roger saved your life.

But your sorrow did catch someone's eye.

You sat at the counter of this dive bar in Logue Town, mindlessly stirring whatever number drink sat in front of you now. You had run out of tears, and sat stuck in some frozen state of grief.

However, this sad portrait of yourself did not seem to deter someone from sitting next to you.

You paid them no mind, just staring into empty space, not enough energy to even remember you were still alive.

"You were a member of the Pirate King's crew weren't you?"

A deep voice rattled from the stranger, but it was his words that really caught your attention.

"How'd you figure?" You had paused your stirring at first, but now focused on your drink to avoid eye contact. You were a mess, you could feel your puffy eyes, and were still sniffling every so often.

"There's no reason anyone in this town should be sad that someone like him died. So, you must have known him, right?" The deep voice continued, and you could feel their eyes staring, but didn't have the strength to meet them.

"Well, you caught me. Going to take me in and see if you can get a reward? I'm afraid you won't find any posters of me though. I tended to get lost in the crowd, you could say." After that statement you finally grasped the glass in front of you and decided to knock back what was left. If this was the end of your little pirating career, so be it. It can die with Roger.

"Will you join my crew?"

Your head snapped up at that, and you finally looked up at the stranger.

Long black hair was slicked back to show all the sharp features of the man's face. A strong square jaw, a prominent, perfect nose, and pale, piercing eyes, hooded by thin black eyebrows. Undoubtedly, even in your drunken haze, you were sure sober you would agree the man was handsome.

After a moment to take in this stranger all you could manage was a "Excuse me?"

He smiled - no, smirked - and pulled a cigar out from his coat. "I could use someone with your experience on my crew." He carried on, as if you were discussing the weather outside. He lit the cigar with a lighter you hadn't noticed him pull out. Perhaps it was the booze, but looking at this guy, he almost seemed… fuzzy, around the edges.

"Having someone who once worked for the Pirate King should help me become the next Pirate King."

The stranger took a long drag from his cigar, then exhaled over the counter. You didn't know where the barkeep was now, but at the moment, it felt like you and him were the only people in the building.

You should be mad. Enraged at the audacity of someone to come up to you on the worst day of your life, and to ask you to work for them. But you felt nothing.

No. That wasn't right. You did feel something.

You chuckled. Giggled even. A small laugh that built up till you were laughing, nearly hysterically. You hadn't felt like this sort of light headed elation in a long time, and it was nice.

After taking a moment to catch your breath you finally looked back at the stranger. He didn't look upset at your reaction. He just kept smoking his cigar, waiting for an answer.

"I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"I am Sir Crocodile, captain of the Neverland Pirates."

"Hmmm. Well, Sir Crocodile, I can tell you now that you have no chance of being Pirate King." You smirked back at him, propping your head up on your hand as you leaned against the counter.

This response still didn't bother the man. If anything, you swore he almost seemed… satisfied by your answer. Perhaps he knows what's coming next.

"I can help you out on the Grand Line and maybe help you get to the New World, but I promise," you leaned in towards this captain, staring him down. "You will never be the man Roger was. No one will."

Yet Crocodile was unperturbed.

"So you'll join my crew?"

You leaned back and reassessed your empty glass. You cast a quick glance at the bar and then back at the other pirate.

"Sure. I don't have anything better to do anyways."

-

You thought back in Logue Town you could never feel the same way about Crocodile's crew that you felt with Roger's, but you were always the fool. Now you are attached.

Now you need a reason to leave.

You couldn't waste your time or your heart with them. You had already died once with Roger, and if you stayed any longer you know you could never leave alive. You got up from bed - still plenty tipsy you swayed over - to your dresser.

Middle drawer, back left, underneath some no longer worn t-shirts was a small box. You opened it.

There were several small scraps of paper. Vivre cards.

As a child on Roger's boat, you were ecstatic to learn about vivre cards. A simple way to know the people you loved were alive and safe, and be able to find their exact location? It was too good to be true.

When you remember the feeling of Roger's paper burning in your hands at his execution, you knew the reality of vivre cards.

Your fingertips gently sorted through the papers you had made for some of Roger's crew. Each had a tiny name written in a corner. Shanks, Buggy, Ray, Gaban, Oden, and a few others of people who had been most important to you.

Maybe you could leave this crew and seek out the others. Rayleigh had always said he would retire at Sabaody, and your crew was bound to get there soon, hopefully in a couple months. The ache in your chest; you missed your old family. This could be the excuse you needed.

With a heavy sigh you closed the box and hid it away again. Sleeping on it would be good. Sleeping away the booze would also be nice.

Maybe then the tears would stop silently slipping down your face.

-

It turns out the excuse of seeing your old crew was unneeded. The news coo was kind enough to drop a reason to leave directly in your lap.

You stared at the newspaper for a long moment. The sinking feeling in your gut still did not go away.

You walked up to the bow where Crocodile was standing. He stared at the horizon as you approached the next island, Water 7.

"Captain."

Crocodile turned to look at you, face neutral, signature cigar in his mouth.

"Morning. The news any good?"

"They want to make you a Warlord."

Your own feelings were swept under the rug as your crewmates overheard. Instantly the deck was buzzing, the news spreading and making the once sleepy, slightly hungover crew come back to life.

"This is perfect!" The helmsman Diat yelled, a grin wide on his face. "Not only do we get the Marines off our back, it's recognition that we are some of the strongest pirates on the Grand Line!"

You would have laughed at him if not for the ice in your chest. Similar celebratory remarks were made all around you, but you didn't have the strength to pretend this was good news to you.

All you could feel was an icy feeling on your back, right where you had a large scar that tore up a long faded tattoo. But time could not get rid of the mark you could never forget about, no matter how much you wanted to.

Amid the spontaneous party you finally turned back to Crocodile. Amidst it all, he was still only looking at you.

Your words were quiet compared to the raucous around you, but your captain heard you just fine.

"If you become a Warlord I'm leaving the crew."

A couple of nearby crew gasped, heads whipped in your direction and murmurs quickly took place of all the yells.

Instantly protests, people yelling your name, yelling their arguments, but it all fell on deaf ears as you stared down your captain.

Tink of all people knew it was futile to argue with you, and turned to the man of the hour. "Captain! You can't just let your first mate leave!"

Before she could continue, Crocodile interjected. "You never planned on making me King of the Pirates, right? So you never planned on staying on this ship anyways."

This evoked even more protests from the crowd. Many of them weren't sure what you two were talking about, and some had begun to yell again.

The sounds were starting to be overwhelming, and this was not a conversation that required the whole crew anyways.

"That's enough from everyone!" You yelled over the cacophony. The crew went quiet. "This is a conversation for me and the captain, the rest of you need to beat it! Do something useful, we will make a port soon."

The crowd was not placated in the least, but it was true the ship would be docked soon, and there were things that needed to be prepared beforehand.

"You heard them. Get back to work." Crocodile finished your command, and the crowd dispersed. You knew they would still be listening, but it didn't stop you.

"I refuse to be part of a crew that works alongside the Marines. If you become a Warlord you automatically become their dog - then you may as well be a dog of the celestial dragons." Your tongue burned even at the mention of the world nobles.

Crocodile took a long drag of his cigar. He looked away from you and sighed an exhale of smoke, then dragged his line of sight back to you.

"I haven't decided yet."

You bristled at this. "Are you suggesting they already offered this to you? And I had to find out through a newspaper?"

Crocodile took yet another drag, and you lost your patience with his nicotine addiction. "Answer me Crocodile."

Your captain sighed through his nose this time, some of the smoke reaching you, a familiar smell after all these years. It once may have been a nice fragrance, knowing your captain was near, but now it blinded you and stoked your anger.

"We are almost to Water 7. Let's save it for there."

-

Tensions were high, especially between you and Crocodile, when your mood worsened when he disappeared while you oversaw the docking. But you docked. You got the crew into a hotel. During this time the crew began splitting into sides, which was not something you had anticipated. But you ignored it all until finally, Crocodile returned and you cornered him into in a room alone with you.

He had no cigar, and you had no drink in hand. It was a painfully sober room.

Crocodile sighed and slumped into an armchair. He dragged his eyes across the room till they met yours. You refused to look away this time, jaw set with determination to stand your ground.

"I don't want to be the Marine's dog," Croc began. "But they offered me a deal."

"The deal that our crimes are excused? Big whoop, as long as we don't get caught it's almost the same."

"No," he sighed, a large ring covered hand dragging down his face in exasperation. "A deal to help take down Whitebeard."

That got you silent. For a moment, as you recalled every time you saw Roger and Whitebeard exchange blows and fight for days on end.

"You? Take down Whitebeard?" You laughed, but it was a dry and bitter thing. "Your bounty is $81 million berries. Your devil fruit is great and all, but it is by no means fight and beat Whitebeard good. Even if Newgate was without his crew, our entire crew would be wiped off the map. You've lost it if you truly believe that this is achieveable."

Crocodile glared from across the room. Not his usual, perpetual glare, but a genuine, freeze you in your tracks ice cold glare.

He stood up, all 8 feet imposing over you as he stalked across the room. "I have let you say plenty of cruel things to me, but this may cross the line."

But you were his first mate and you couldn't fear him if you were supposed to talk sense into him. "Cross the line? I'm not the one who is making deals with the Navy so I can sail us to our deaths at the hands of Whitebeard!" You were yelling now, no, roaring at your foolish headstrong captain.

"If you take that ship and that crew as it is now to the New World to fight Whitebeard and his sons, no one will come back alive!" Your heart was on fire with rage and frozen in fear. Rage at your captain, who is very much overestimating his abilities. Fear for your crewmates who have no idea what sort of danger their captain was going to put them in.

Crocodile was now truly enraged on the same level as you. He sneered down at you as he suddenly grabbed you by the neck - much to your shock. "I wanted you there to see me become the next Pirate King. But if you can't support me for this, one of the biggest moments in my life since I've been a pirate, then I have no need for you anymore."

With his free hand he opened the door that was behind you. A group of Marines walked in with cuffs ready. "To sweeten the deal, what better than to give a former Roger pirate to the Navy?"

You felt all the blood drain from your face, as fear for your own well being finally pierced your heart. You looked up at Crocodile, and you could feel tears begin to creep at the corner of your eyes. "You never fail to surprise me, Captain."

"Well done Sir Crocodile." One of the Marines spoke, and you could tell from their uniform it was a Vice Admiral, though you didn't recognize them.

"A public execution of a Roger's pirate should be a grand way to ring in your instatement as Warlord."

You felt the world slow down around you and felt Crocodile's grip on your neck slip at the Marine's sentencing.

Crocodile began to speak, "That was not what we agreed on," But your ears had begun to ring.

Growing up on the Oro Jackson, you had picked up some neat tricks. You found out you were hopeless with the color of observation haki, but had a special knack for color of arms. Perfect against those darn logia fruit users.

In a blink of an eye you ripped Crocodile's arm away from your neck and you made a mad dash past him. And jumped straight through a window, glass and all.

You could vaguely hear a commotion behind you as Marines ran after you, but it was lost with the ringing in your ears.

You could hear and feel your heartbeat, pounding throughout your body as you ran through the endless alleys and canals of Water 7. You could feel tears pierce through the wind rushing past your face as you ran, desperately with no objective.

All you could think about was the way the heat of Crocodile's hand felt on your neck, the cold metal of the rings that had pressed against your pulse.

Have you ever really touched Crocodile before?

…

You missed him. You didn't understand why. He had just betrayed you - fucking hell, he was just handing you over to the Navy as part of his deal to become a warlord, but god. You wanted to be with him anyways. You're not sure how long you've been in love with him; his sharp eyes, the smell of his cigars, the rings on his hands, but gods above.

You had fallen in love with Crocodile.

In your realization you slowed down. Your legs and lungs burned, you were gasping for air and not just because you had been running.

Has it always been this dark? When did the day leave you behind?

You now stood in some nondescript alley, dimly lit a golden hue by windows that lined it. It was a long alley, each end blocked by canals. How you arrived there you weren't certain. But you weren't alone.

At one end sand had appeared. And from it stepped your dear, awful captain Crocodile. You both stared at each other, both of you panting for breath.

"I didn't want it to be like this." Crocodile's voice cuts through the air to you. You knew you should run. But for some reason you couldn't find the strength.

"I didn't know they would execute you. I imagined they would send you to Impel Down." Crocodile continued to speak. You just stood there and listened as he walked towards you.

As you watched him, there was a strange look on his face. You've seen it before but still didn't know what it meant.

He stopped walking ten feet in front of you. The light was still too dim to see him clearly, but it was fine. You knew his face well enough.

"I won't let the Navy kill you. Not after what the nobles did to you, it feels wrong." You had never told Crocodile what the scar on your back was. It didn't feel like it mattered anymore.

"I think I'll feel better about this if I'm the one who kills you."

You knew this was coming. The second you saw him at the end of the alley. But you agreed with him. If you had to die at someone's hands, you would pick Crocodile over anyone else. Even if it meant he didn't feel the same about you, it didn't matter anymore. You were so tired.

It would be nice to see Roger again.

But then Rayleigh's face flashed in your mind. You still had to pay him a visit. You still had to visit Wano to see Oden. You wanted to see Shanks and Buggy find the One Piece.

You couldn't see Roger just yet.

So, in a sudden scramble, you turned around and ran.

The ground where you had been standing suddenly crumbled. You felt a gasp finally escape your lungs as you realized you almost gave up. But not yet. You had to save your crew too.

Then you finally ran out of luck. The dim light hid a hole in the cobblestones and you fell to the alley ground. You quickly twisted your body just in time to see Crocodile's scythe of sand arc straight towards you.

It hits you right in the chest, and crumbles to dust.

Confused, you run your hands through the sand that has landed on your lap. You're not cut in half - instead you just have sand all over you.

Crocodile change his mind? He was letting you go? Thoughts and heart still racing, you looked up at him.

Oh.

Oh no.

The horror on his face was plain to see - that was supposed to be a killing blow.

But he didn't hurt you.

Your hand jumped to your neck from when he grabbed you earlier. But in retrospect, you had just been shocked by the action, he hadn't harmed you.

Crocodile didn't hurt you.

No.

Crocodile couldn't hurt you.

Because he was your soulmate.

It was the look on his face that hurt you the most. The disgust, anger, horror - this man did not want a soulmate. He did not want you. So why bother sticking around?

You scrambled back to your feet. Even if he couldn't hurt you, the Marines still could.

So, with blurry eyes and a heavy heart, you ran away.

Faintly, you heard a painfully familiar voice call your name, but then all that was left was the wind as you ran.

pt. 2 (if you want, but this might be better as a one shot)

[destroymeinherz]

The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. “Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Fear Toxin: The Memories that Haunts Us | Batman/Bruce Wayne x Magician!Reader

Synopsis: Wanting to test his new fear toxin, Scarecrow installed it in an event that had all of Gotham’s elite and powerful. As one of the guest speakers for her new book about the history of the Wayne family, Vivian Pryor was too late to realize what was already happening and inhaled the gas, subjecting her to a spiral that brought her back to her most horrific memories in her past and wakes a dormant power that rings beyond the waking world

Vivian looked at herself in the mirror and tried to calm down by fixing whatever she could on her dress. It was a beautiful dress, one that Bruce offered she wore for the launch of her newest book that told the story of the Wayne family – their history, bloodline, and how they influenced Gotham. It was one of his mother’s dresses, a beautiful classic design in the shade of blue and black lace patterns on top, which complimented her auburn hair. It had a square cut neckline that connected to her lace sleeves. 

When he offered her the dress, Vivian felt so honored and overwhelmed but Bruce reassured her that it was alright, in fact it was perfect since she will be presenting the book about his family history.

The book took her almost four years to write, and she made sure to not be biased by having her former mentor be her editor. The man was the best person to question her work about certain topics, and he advised her to write the book away from Wayne Manor and away from her boyfriend, Bruce Wayne, to keep everything factual and neutral.

It took a lot of edits, a lot of drafts, but after four years, she finally finished her thesis, presented it to the board, and was going to publish a new book yet again. This time, unlike her first book launch, the guest list quadrupled with almost all of Gotham’s elite and powerful were present, along with the media, and experts in her field, and, of course, her colleagues from Gotham University.

And, unlike the last, it had more press. More people are writing about the event, about her, about her relationship with Bruce Wayne, and about how she took advantage of her relationship for a new book. She’s seen the articles posted online and on the tabloids when her publishing team started marketing the book. It nearly broke her as she started questioning her own work, but Alfred was there to bring some sense into her, and Dick was always there to cheer her up by doing some absurd thing to the press by raising the middle finger at them.

And Bruce.

Bruce would always remind her that it was all just media, that once the book is on the shelves people will see that she did work without bias, that their relationship wasn’t transactional but two people who found comfort with each other. Who found happiness and love. 

It didn’t help when paparazzi would follow her around or block her from getting to her car, but Bruce would always be there whenever she needed her, shielding her from them. He had a talent for that. 

The knock on the door didn’t pull Vivian from her anxious thoughts, but the feeling of his lips on her neck did. Vivian only realized that Bruce was there when she felt his warm enveloping her, and then saw his reflection. She let out a sigh as he continued to kiss her at that spot he knew made feel jelly.

“Don’t even think about leaving a mark there,” she warned him.

“I can’t help it,” Bruce teased.

“I mean it. I don’t need another headline about me being your whore so I’d write only good things about the Waynes.”

Bruce stopped with his kisses and then looked at her through the mirror. “Who wrote it?”

“Bruce…”

“Viv. Tell me.”

“You don’t need to do anything. Please, It’s just something I saw. See? Forgetting about it now.”

“That doesn’t look like a face that’s forgetting about it.” Bruce sat on the desk and brought her close to him. “Who did it, Viv?”

“What, you’re gonna go all dark knight on him just for me?” She gasped teasingly, making him roll his eyes.”I’m touched, I didn’t know I meant so much to you.”

“You do. Very much, in fact,” Bruce pulled her in for a kiss. “What can I do to make you relax?” He asked suggestively.

She saw right through it though and said, “Scotch. Double. Neat.”

“That won’t get you drunk in the middle of the event.”

“Please, a double won’t even ease the nerves,” she let out a sigh. “Where’s Dick, he can calm me down.”

“What is that that Dick can do that I can’t?”

“Be adorable,” she walked to the door and looked around for the boy. She found the teenager hitting on a girl, who happens to be one of her students and was older than him. “Dick, she has a boyfriend and you’re too young for her. Get over here!”

“Vivian!” Dick blushed in embarrassment. He apologized to the girl and went to the room where Vivian has been pacing around and closed the door before saying, “Are you serious right now?”

“I am. Just stay here and help me calm down. Please,” Vivian slumped on the boy’s back. Dick sighed and let her lean on him while he did nothing. It became some sort of his job to calm her down these past few weeks when the Internet started writing about her relationship with Bruce Wayne and not about her book. He would find her in the manor lying on the couch with her laptop in mid-scroll of the article, and to cheer her up, he'd sit on the floor, take her hand and put it on his head. Like how he finds comfort whenever she brushes his hair, she too finds it relaxing.

“Come on, Viv, it’s gonna be alright,” said Dick.

“I’ll go head out and see what else needs to be prepared. Dick, make sure Vivian’s alright before we start. And don’t give her any drinks.”

“But what if she’s thirsty?”

“Then give her water.”

“And if that’s not enough?”

“Coffee. I had someone bring a coffee maker here. That’ll do.”

~*~

One moment Vivian was sitting on the leather sofa with the host of the event, talking about the research she made for the book, and what it felt like digging through the archives of one of the most private families in Gotham, the next she found herself standing in the middle of the wet road. Police sirens flashing in the night.

How did she end up…

“Vivian Pryor,” an officer approached her. They didn’t wear the standard police officer uniforms of GCPD, instead they wore light reflector jackets over the white shirt and bulletproof vest, their hats resembled tophats but smaller and round. And this one had a Liverpooldian accent. “Better come with us.”

She followed them, not sure why but she did and –

They were in a morgue? 

How did they…

“Can you help us identify this woman, Ma'am?” The police officer pointed to the body on the table, covered with a white sheet.

“I… why my? Why…” she was confused. How did she even come to this place? Why did they suddenly want her to identify this dead woman? When the officer didn't say and continued to write something on the pad, Vivian walked towards the body and pulled down the –

A gasping scream left her chest and Vivian almost fell to the ground as she saw the face of the eyeless woman. “No, no, no…” Vivian sobbed as she identified her so easily. The woman's red hair, her high cheekbones, her once tan skin now pale and lifeless. “Mom? Mommy, no! Please, no!” Vivian cried as she held her mother's arm and sunk down on the ground. “WHAT IS THIS?!” Vivian cried out.

“Vee,” a voice spoke. A cold hand came to her arm.

Slowly looking up, the scream got stuck in her throat as she came face to face with her mother's dead and eyeless face looking down at her, sitting up and holding her arm with her nails digging in. “He's coming. He's coming. He's coming.” Madeline's corpse repeated over and over and her nails buried on Vivian's forearm. 

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. 

“Let go of me!”

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. 

“Mommy, please! Let go! AH!” She shrieked in pain as her mother's nails started carving to her flesh, following the pattern of the seal that bound the majority of her magic.

“Mommy, please! Please!” Vivian cried –

Madeline's hand grabbed her face and brought her close –

“WHY DID YOU BURY ME ALIVE, VIVIAN?!” 

“NO, I DIDN'T ! I DIDN'T!”

“WHY?!”

“NO!”

“WHY?!”

“LET ME GO!” Vivian cast the spell, freeing her from Madeline's hold –

“VEE! VEE! VIVIAN!” It was a different voice this time. “Damn it, Vee!” The man grabbed her by her shoulders and made her open her eyes. “Love, we need to do this now!”

“John?” She said in a whisper as she saw the man she swore to never see again. He looked exactly as the day she left him. Young, blonde, with an arrogant face, he wore that ridiculous black shirt with the ripped sleeves and the pentagram in the middle. Who was she kidding, it was rock and roll then, and John Constantine was the literal personal of it. He still smelled like cigarettes but there was sulfur in the air too.

“Love, come on, we need you,” said John. “Angela, needs you! Richie is down. Isabel is gone! You are our only hope now!” John said. “Use it!”

No…

“You know what will happen if I –”

“LOOK AT HER!” John pointed. 

On the ground, Chas Kramer, held down a woman thrashing around while one of their friends, Gary Lester was holding her head while performing the exorcism ritual.

She can't be here…

This is impossible.

But she was, and she could see the demon trying to claw its way out of Angela's body, literally, as the woman tried so hard to keep it down with Chas and Gary's help.

“If you don't do this, Love, the bastard will come out!” John told her.

“John, I don't have my powers – I don't have them – I – I'm sorry –” Vivian sobbed. “This isn't real. This can't be real.” Vivian closed her eyes. “Wake up! I need to wake up!”

Silence came to the room. She knew that silence. It's what set them all off. It's what brought her to near insanity as it killed them for only a moment and she saw the other side. 

A breath blew in her ear and a whisper said, “Open your eyes, Vivian.”

She did –

The distorted face of Angela was before her. The demon has possessed her fully and –

“Mommy,” Angela spoke laced with the demon's voice. “Why did you bury me alive?”

“Please, don't,” Vivian begged.

Angela’s face contorted to a sinister grin. 

Over Angela’s shoulder, Vivian could see John’s hand holding out to her their direction, the pentagram marked on his hand, and was starting the incarnation. The binding spell of a demon. 

“John, don’t… please, don’t,” Vivian begged.

Angela’s grin grew. The demon was killing her body, causing the massive deterioration that blood flowed out of her mouth like waterfalls. “Oops, looks like the baby's coming.”

Vivian was pushed back down, to a slab where her hands were tied down. The morgue, she was in the morgue again –

“AAAAAH!” Vivian screamed in pain as something inside her was clawing its way out. Looking down at her body, she saw her belly round with the demon's claws trying to break free from her womb. “STOP IT! GET OUT OF ME! GET OUT OF ME!” Vivian cried out. “GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT! NO, PLEASE, JOHN! PLEASE! PLEASE, DON’T DO THIS! PLEASE! JOHN, GET IT OUT OF ME! PLEASE! I DON'T WANT THIS! PLEASE! AAAAAAHHHHHH!”

She felt the creature coming out of the womb, crawling like a monster reaching for freedom. Breaking every bone there was to break. Then she saw it's arm raising from between her legs and slowly, subjecting her to agonizing pain, pulled its body out, all boney and flesh, with horns and claws. Vivian screamed in pain, she tried everything to stop it but the demon tore its way out of her flesh and was now standing before her, covered in the soot and sulfurs of hell, mixed with her own blood. 

Trembling, Vivian watched as the demon climbed the table, hovering over her and loomed its horrific face over hers and said, “You've dug yourself into your grave, Vivian Pryor. No dream can save you from me now. I will come and I will take this body, and you will birth the soldiers of hell for our wars,” the demon grinned sadistically as it saw the look of pain and realization in her face.

A bloodcurdling scream tore from her throat as she felt them, all of them, inside her, trying to claw out of her body.

She can't. She can't let them do this. She'd rather burn than let this happen. She'd rather burn than let them use her body like this. She'd burn, she’d burn all of this.

Release me, Vivian Pryor.

A chain broke deep inside, and Vivian let out a scream as she let the power surge around her, burning the demons and herself –

~*~

“LESLIE, SHE'S GOING INTO SHOCK! HER FEVER IS GOING HIGHER!” Batman said as he held Vivian down on the medical bed in the Batcave. 

He should have known about it. He should have anticipated it but he knew Scarecrow was in Arkham Asylum, he and Robin put him there a week ago, and now the man came during Vivian's launch and tested his new toxin in the venue that had all of Gotham's rich and powerful, and the media. The easy part was apprehending Scarecrow and stopping the release of the gas variation of the Fear Toxin into the vents. The hard part was getting all of the affected to the hospital. The hardest was Vivian Pryor. When the paramedics tried to sedate her, Vivian started to go hysterical, crying about her mother, then it happened. The powerful release of energy that Batman knew all too well.

Vivian's magic pulsed through them like a heatwave, and he knew the hospital can't help her now. After telling Jim Gordon that he'll take Vivian to a more isolated facility, he and Robin drove across Gotham to get back to the cave. At the back, Dick had to restrain Vivian as she kept thrashing around, crying in pain and horror, begging them to stop. 

It will be the source of his nightmares for a while, hearing her cry out: “GET IT OUT OF ME! GET IT OUT! JOHN, GET IT OUT OF ME! IT'S COMING OUT! LET GO OF ME! PLEASE!”

Dick, near to tears, held Vivian tight and said, “Batman, she's burning up!”

Through the chaos, Batman contacted Leslie Thomkins and had her brought to the cave as quickly as possible.

But she wasn't fast enough. They came before Leslie did. Dick and Brue held Vivian down as Alfred strapped her down to the medical bed as she kept thrashing, screaming, and crying.

“GET OUT OF ME! NO, PLEASE! NO, PLEASE!” Vivian cried. “I DON'T WANT THIS! PLEASE! JUST KILL ME NOW! JOHN, KILL ME NOW, PLEASE! PLEASE!”

She kept crying for names that neither of the men in the cave knew: Chas, Richie, Angela, Isabel, Maureen, Gary, and a John, who was the most called name and begged him to kill her.

When Leslie came, she immediately went to work. Taking blood samples to see why the antidote wasn't working.

It was her body. Her temperature was so high the moment they injected the antidote it burns up and never goes into the bloodstream. It was also making the toxin worse.

Then it came. 

The pulse of power that shook the cave and caused a blackout. Resembling a sun’s solar flare.

“ROBIN, CHECK THE GENERATOR, NOW!” Batman ordered.

“On it!” Dick jumped and grappled down to where they kept the generators to bring power back to the cave. He had a feeling this blackout wasn't just at Wayne Manor. That surge of power was too strong to be contained in a certain radius.

“Leslie, please,” Bruce pulled down his cowl and looked at the woman, who has been his surrogate mother since the tragedy at Crime Alley. “What do you need me to do? Wh-What can we do?”

Leslie looked down at Vivian who was clearly no ordinary human after seeing all methods were not working. 

“Leslie, please!” Bruce begged. “Save her. I don't care how, just save her.”

“We need to flush out the toxin from her blood, and the only way to do that is an exchange transfusion,” said Leslie. 

Without hesitation, Bruce turned to Alfred and ordered him to get the equipment they needed, and the blood that they have banked that matches Vivian's. Alfred jumped to action immediately and went to grab the tools before Bruce could even finish. Actually, the moment Leslie said the process, he was already looking for the machine they would need.

Dick restored the power to the cave, and Alfred prepared the machine and the blood bank, Bruce pushed Vivian's bed to the station and held her down for Leslie to start the procedure. 

Her thrashing started to cease but her fever kept going up. It was as if she were giving up. Bruce would have preferred she kept fighting whatever she saw in that hallucination than this. It meant she was giving up. 

For the first time, Dick saw Bruce nearly fall to his knees as he leaned down and pressed his forehead on Vivian's and begged her to stay with him. That this will pass. Telling her that they were doing everything they can to save her, so hold on.

When the process started, Vivian was no longer thrashing around. She fell silent and her cries stopped, but tears still fell. The storm has passed, what awaits now is her recovery. Bruce never left her side since, and was only forced to do so when Dick said that Commissioner Gordon was at the other line, asking about Vivian Pryor.

“I'll keep her company, Bruce,” said Dick. “You need to talk to him.”

Bruce reluctantly left Vivian's side and went to the computer where the call was put on hold. Wearing the cowl, Batman spoke to Jim and answered the man's main concern, what happened to Vivian Pryor. The press were not leaving them alone when they heard Vivian wasn't in the hospital. 

“They're biting our heads off with this. Vivian Pryor's been the center of the media and she can't just disappear, especially with Wayne –”

“Don't worry, Jim. Professor Pryor is with Bruce Wayne at the moment. I contacted him to retrieve her when she was stable. She's with him at Wayne Manor now, being cared for, privately. If you want to see her yourself, you can. I'll inform them about it.”

“I'll contact Wayne myself. Next time, call me and I'll handle the transition,” Jim sighed.

“Of course. Batman, out.”

Ending the call, Batman informed Alfred and Leslie, who were having a visitor, Jim Gordon once Bruce gets the call. Not long after, he did, and after reassuring the Commissioner Vivian was with them, Bruce ended the call and asked for help to transport Vivian to one of the guest rooms where the treatment will continue.

Changing out of his Bat costume, Bruce wore his usual attire and had Dick do the same for the commissioner. They were sitting in the room where Vivian was kept when Jim came in with Harvey Bullock, and Alfred leading them there.

“As you can see, Commissioner Professor Pryor is very much taken care of. Doctor Thompkins, the family doctor, has given her the best care there is to rid of the toxin from her body,” Alfred said.

“Why the transfusion?” Bullock asked. “What about the antidote?”

“The antidote wasn't working with Professor Pryor,” said Leslie. “We were forced to make other measures to remove the toxin from her.” 

“Do you have any more questions, Commissioner?” Bruce asked.

“I just wanted to make sure she was alright, Mr. Wayne. Of all the people there, she looked like she was the most affected one,” Jim’s gaze went to Vivian as the memory of her going hysterical in the room and in the hospital replayed. “It's the ones that always have a smile on their face that have seen darker things. Don't you agree, Wayne?”

Bruce remained silent.

“I know the sound of real terror, and that girl sounded like she just went to hell and back. Take care of her, Wayne. Let's go, Bullock,” Jim said his goodbye and left.

They waited until Alfred returned from escorting the Commissioner and Detective Bullock out of the manor before talking about the matter at hand. Leslie told Bruce that the transfusion will last for two more hours, and after that she'll be in bedrest for a while. 

“Bruce, as your family doctor and, now hers, I need to know what was that?” Leslie asked. “And you know what I mean. That girl's fever should have killed her, she was burning from the inside – Burning, Bruce. And not just because of the fever. It felt like flames were inside her.”

When Bruce remained silent, Alfred spoke, “It is for the best, Master Bruce. So, Doctor Thompkins may know the best course of action the next time such an encounter happens.”

“But it won't happen again,” Bruce said. 

“Bruce,” Leslie began.

“I won't let this happen again.”

“Bruce, if this is some sort of secret, you know that I can keep it.”

Bruce only looked at her, and then gave in. He apologized to Vivian as he told his surrogate mother the secret they have been hiding. “Vivian is a Homo Magi. A Magician. A witch. She stopped practicing her magic a long time ago after an incident. We still don't know what it was but it still frightens her. What happened now is something we have never encountered before.”

“Viv usually just casts spells or something,” Dick spoke. “Nothing too major. A bit of teleportation. Trust me, she never did anything like this.”

“I see. So, not exactly something science can handle,” Leslie sighed. “Talk to her, Bruce. It seems that's the only thing I can,” a sigh. “That's all that I can give to you now. And when she's awake, bring her to the clinic. I can’ get a good blood sample with it burning up and evaporating before we could test it.”

“Thank you, Leslie,” Bruce told her.

Seeing the fear still in his face, Leslie went to Bruce and patted his shoulder. “The storm has passed. She will be alright now. While you wait, rest.” After that, Leslie left and Alfred drove her back to the clinic in Parkway. 

~*~

Bruce was sitting on the leather seat when Vivian woke. He normally succumbs to micro sleep and then be fully energized for the day and night, but this time he was truly knocked out. He hasn’t left Vivian’s side the entire night, leaving Robin to do most of the patrols for the past few days. Ever since Dick turned sixteen, Bruce has been taking trips abroad for Wayne Enterprise or just stay in with Vivian to get a break. 

It was Dick who suggested it to him, wanting to do crime fighting on his own and prove that he could. Bruce was reluctant to agree, though, when Vivian supported Dick’s idea.

A flatline. The sound of the long beep of the heart monitor pulled Bruce from his sleep and jump from his seat, his heart dropping as the worse happened. But Vivian wasn’t there. She wasn’t in bed, and there was a trail of blood from the ripped IV leading to the door. Following the trail, Bruce heard Alfred’s voice calling for Vivian in panic.

“Ms. Vivian!” Alfred called for her. “Please, Ms. Vivian! Calm down!”

“Alfred, I… I need to…” Vivian’s voice was weak and hoarse. “I need to go to the…”

“At least let me bandage your arm, please, Ma’am!” Alfred begged.

Arriving at the entrance hall of Wayne MAnor, Bruce saw Vivian barely holding herself as she leaned on the wall for support. Her pajamas stained with blood from the IV. 

“Alfred, please,” Vivian was trying to catch her breath.

“Ms. Vivian!” Alfred caught her as her knees buckled, but as soon as he did, Vivian tried to push him away and cried in fear, startling Alfred.

“Please, don’t touch me, please!” Vivian backed up against the heavy door, holding herself.

“Ms. Vivian, I…”

“Viv!” Bruce arrived and kept a good distance from her, not too far nor too close to frighten her. “Viv. Viv, please, listen to us. You’re bleeding, we need you to let us fix that before you lose blood. Vivian, please, my love, you just had an exchange transfusion two days ago to get rid of the Fear Toxin in your body. Please, let us help you.”

She looked at him for a moment, fear seen in her eyes, but Bruce could see the conflict inside. To trust him yet she didn’t want to be touched. What did she see while under that toxin? After a while, Vivian finally opens her arms and takes Bruce’s hand, but she flinches upon touch and took a moment before she held tight and lets him come close. 

Bruce cautiously scooped her up from the ground, taking one step at a time that wouldn’t frighten her. They brought her to the living room where Alfred came with a first aid kit. He expertly removed the remaining wire of the IV, and placed a bandage on the puncture. Once done, he excused himself to get Vivian new clothes to change out of the bloody ones she wore and the entire time, Bruce sat beside her. Holding her.

When Alfred came back, Bruce asked Alfred to see to Dick, who has been asking a million questions in his comms. He must have been notified of the flatline and was panicking. Bruce helped her change her clothes, and noticed how Vivian looked at her reflection on the window glass, pressing on her belly and then lower as if to check an injury before taking the jumper and sweatpants. 

“Leslie said you need bedrest,” said Bruce.

Vivian shook her head. “Take me to the chapel.”

“What?”

“I need to go to the chapel, in the estate.”

“Viv, you need rest. And it’s pouring out.”

“Please!” Vivian hugged herself again, just as she would do whenever she felt overwhelmed and could feel all that he couldn’t see. “Please, please, I just need to go there.”

“Alright,” Bruce gave in and asked her to sit for a while as he went to get the keys for the car and a raincoat.

The drive to the chapel only took a couple of minutes. As soon as he stopped the car, Vivian got out, not bothering too wait for him or the umbrella he prepared. “Vivian!” He called out, running after her, as she entered the rundown chapel. He expected the inside to be dark, yet as soon as Vivian stepped in the candles and the torches lit up. Each step she made, the candles would light up until she sat down and the the candles on the altar now had flames to show the cross on the wall and the bible that has been eaten by moths and other insects that’s been living in there.

Bruce sat beside her, both of them wet from the rain, and asked, “what are we doing here, Vivian?” 

Silence.

“Vivian, please,” Bruce knelt before her, holding her hands. “I want to help you, but I don’t know how. Viv, my love, please, tell me… I almost lost you – you were burning up, the antidote won’t work because whenever Leslie would inject it, it would just evaporate or be burned up before it would go into the bloodstream. We had to result to an exchange transfusion just to get the toxin out of you. And during that time this power came from you and it…

“Vivian, please, tell me. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t stand seeing you like this. So afraid. I promise you, we got Scarecrow, he’s in Arkham now… and he won’t hurt you anymore.”

“It’s not Scarecrow I’m afraid of,” she whispered. “It’s what I saw and what’s coming. There’s a reason why I asked to be brought here because I don’t feel safe right now.”

Vivian wasn’t a practicing Catholic. She can’t claim she was an atheist since her magic showed her all that was in the other world. She believes in the hierarchy of things, especially in the mystic arts, but she doesn’t exactly follow them. She once told Bruce that “all gods are the same, all have rules, and all have the idea of good and bad, right and wrong, and the ego of a narcissistic asshole.”

Swallowing his pride and facing his fears, Bruce asked, “Vivian, whose John?”

The mention of the name made her flinch. Bruce wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but if made him scared. Of what, he wasn’t sure.

“Catholic religion was once an art or practice of magic that became a religion. And it’s one of the oldest magic there is and to practice it means risking the line of crossing to dark magic,” Vivian began. “When my mother died, I practiced dark magic so I could bring her back again, but that’s not how the world works. I can’t bring back the dead nor I just bring them from whatever plain they’re in just to talk to them. So, I went to where there myself. I didn’t do it alone though. No matter what I tried, I can’t kill myself.” 

She saw the shock in Bruce’s eyes. But she continued. “That’s where John comes in. I met him in one of Papa Midnight’s clubs, drinking and smoking thirty-cigarettes a day. He’s an occultist, dabbles in the dark arts. John fucking Constantine. I should have listened to the first person who told me to stay away from him, but I didn’t. I told him what I wanted to do, he told me to fuck off, until I showed him a wad of cash. Stolen from an ATM. 

“Then fuck it. He brought me to his place where he brought me to the place where all souls nowadays goes. He drowned me in his tub. I was dead for thirty seconds, and when I woke up, I saw him blasted off to the wall and the tub broken. Thirty seconds, I was gone. But it felt like an eternity in that goddamn place.”

“Where did you go, Viv?” Bruce asked.

“Where all souls go nowadays. Hell.”

Bruce got up and brought her to an embrace, he couldn’t imagine what she must have felt then. A girl of fifteen or sixteen, going through Hell. Literally.

“After that, John told me what happened outside. He said that I had some kind of power he’s never seen before and he gave me his card. Back then it was just a scribbled piece of paper for his cigarettes. But I didn’t go home that night, how can I? I just saw hell. I needed a drink, and I needed something to make me forget.” She laughed cynically at the memory. “Or maybe he just thought it’d be an easy way to get laid that night. I don’t care, but it helped.”

She felt Bruce’s hold on her tightened, and she squeezed his arm to reassure him that she was alright. Or to reassure him that it was all in the past now.

“You can say we dated, but it wasn’t exactly exclusive. He’d fuck around with someone, I’d do the same. Practicing the dark arts was taxing, and alcohol and fucking were the only things we knew how to get a piece of sanity from seeing all of those things and feeling all of those horrifying experiences. Alcohol numbs us, sex makes us feel good. But only for a while. Once that’s gone, it’s back in the rut.

“We’d take on jobs, get called on for jobs by mortals and immortals and divine alike. We even got a little group… and then it happened. There was a case of a woman jumping off a building. Police said it was suicide, but the sister didn’t believe it was. She said that there was something demonic that made her sister jump. John and our little group investigated in it. All young and idiotic. All foolish to think we’re fucking gods ourselves. Until we saw it.

“The demon was one of the princes of Hell. And He wanted to get through to the mortal world and ravage on the lands. To do that he took the body of Isabel but she killed herself before he could take her. So, he went for the twin. Angela. The exorcism was a mess. A lot of us got hurt. Some died. It was the first time I saw real horror, Bruce. The first time I experienced fear, and I just stood there as they try to save Angela from being ripped to pieces. She was dying and the demon was about to get out… until.”

Memories flashed before her eyes as she remembered John holding her down with his magic and then starting the incantation. His last words to her that night were: “Sorry, love. But it’s the only way.” 

“John fucking Constantine, knew the demon needed a powerful witch. So, he presented me like a fucking prize and was about to bound us together so he could kill both the host and the demon. But I didn’t let him. I burned it. The demon, putting it back into hell but I knew it’d be back for me. Angela died that day. Richie got this demon-inflicted cancer. And the rest just went our separate ways.

“After that, I left John and I went back home and tried to forget. For nights I’d dream about that horrible experience, and I could feel it pinning me down and trying to get to me. So, I did the only thing I could think of to stop him. I sealed my powers away, which also seals the fucker in hell.”

“You gave up your magic – your real power so you can seal the demon in hell?” Bruce asked.

“A good trade for a good night’s sleep and a new life,” Vivian shrugged. “What I saw while I was infected with the Fear Toxin was a mix of all that – my Mom’s death, that night, but this time. The demon got me and it crawled its way out of my body and –” The memory of the dream came back as flashes that had Vivian running to vomit at the corner. Bruce approached her and rubbed her back and held her hair. “I can still feel them crawling out of my body. Using me like some gateway.”

Which was why she didn’t want them touching her earlier, Bruce concluded.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, Vivian?”

She let out a cynical laugh, “I don’t think Batman can battle a demon. Let alone a Prince of Hell.”

Bruce chuckled. “You’d be surprised. For you, I’d battle monsters, aliens, and demons just to keep you safe.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of…” Vivian whispered.

~*~

Upon returning to the Manor, Vivian was tackled to an embrace by Dick, despite Alfred telling him about not startling her with such attacks. But this time, Vivian didn’t flinch, she welcomed Dick’s embrace and brushed his hair. It always did calm her.

“I’m gonna make Scarecrow pay,” Dick said.

“Dick, I’m fine,” Vivian told him.

“You’re not! I-I thought — I thought we lost you. We couldn’t get the fever down until Doctor Leslie did the transfusion – He crossed a line this time!”

“I know, kiddo,” Vivian hugged him again. “But please. Scarecrow is in Arkham, he can’t touch us again.”

“If I see him out here again, I’ll fucking –”

“Master Dick!” Alfred chastised him.

“Sorry, Alfred…”

Releasing him from the hug, Vivian told him to get changed. Clean up and head to bed as tomorrow it was a school day and he only had a few hours left before he goes to school. Dick was about to argue but one look from Alfred and Bruce, he was marching up to his room.

~*~

Cleaned and changed from their muddy clothes, Vivian entered their bedroom and saw Bruce sitting in his spot on their bed, looking through one of her books. Specifically the one of demonology. She took the book from his hand and tossed it to the floor.

“Not tonight,” she told him. “Don’t be Batman tonight.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Really?”

“With you, Vivian, I’m your partner first before I am Batman.”

She smiled and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I got you scotch. Double,” he handed her the glass. “To numb the pain… but just for tonight.”

Vivian nodded and took a shot and let the alcohol do its work. “And to forget?”

Bruce led her to the bed and kissed her slowly, but just as he was going to lay her down, Vivian pushed him back and climbed on top of him. Not tonight. Not after that dream. Tonight, she’ll lead. She’ll have control. 

They made slow and passionate love as Vivian rode him. Both focusing on the now, the pleasure sex brought them, and how they used it to show their love. When she came, Bruce followed and with a loud grunt, and spasms of his cum filled her that it leaked out. They rarely did it unprotected, despite Vivian taking contraceptive pills, but tonight they just wanted to feel each other. Vivian wanted to feel him.

~*~

A week later Vivian returned to the campus. Bruce insisted on driving her to and from work, wanting to make sure she was safe. Upon stepping in, she was greeted with concerned colleagues and students who learned of the bad effects of the toxin which resulted in her body going into shock and requiring a blood transfusion. She reassured them she was alright and insisted she just wanted to work.

Her mentor chastised her about drowning herself in work just to bury what she experienced, but she told him that she’s rested long enough and processed long enough and just wanted to work.

The hovering didn’t stop there though, Kirk thought it was a good idea to be a hovering mother by telling her over and over that she should take a break.

“Vivian, Professor Strauss is right, you need to rest,” said Kirk.

“I have rested long enough.”

“Or talk to someone. What you saw that day – others haven’t recovered and are still in the hospital. They said you were in that thing for much longer than they have – the university is more than willing to let you rest. If they don’t I can talk to them –”

“Kirk, please,” she raised a hand to push him away gently. “Thank you for the concern but I am fine. I’ve been talking about this with my therapist –” lies, she couldn’t do it or else she’d be thrown in Arkham as clinically insane “-- and Bruce has been helping me through it.”

Kirk scoffed. “Yeah? If he’s so rich and powerful, he would have had the board given you more days off – I heard he’s chummy with them –”

“First of all, back off, alright?” Vivian snapped. “That is none of your concern. He told me to rest for another week but I wanted to come back and work. I didn’t want to stay at home and do nothing. And for your information, Bruce is doing a good job in making me forget.” Kirk could read through the lines clearly and glared at her. Good, she wanted him to get the message. “And he’s very good at helping me process all of this. So, thanks for the unsolicited advice, but I’m more than fine. And speaking of,” Vivian picked up her phone which rang. “Bruce, hey. No, not busy, just finished with my last class before lunch. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up at our usual place,” she turned away from Kirk and walked to the front of the campus.

Vivian wasn’t the only one who's been busy too.

At night, after getting her to sleep, Bruce would kiss her lovingly before getting to the Batcave and prepare for work. He and Dick have been hunting down the remaining men of Scarecrow who were behind the attack during Vivian’s book launch. It took them a while but they got all of them, and tied them up for GCPD to collect. 

When he got back to her, he wrapped her in an embrace to let her know that nothing would get to her as long as he was there to protect her.

~ Epilogue ~

Beyond the Waking World, the pulse traveled across the multiple realms that build the cosmos. Rattling those that reside in the shadows and in between the world of mortals, gods, and Endless. 

"My Lord," Lucien came to the throne room where Dream stood, looking around his palace, looking perplexed. No, that wasn’t the right word for it. Since the return of the Lord of Dreams, Lucien has seen the Endless show more emotion aside from his usual stoic nature. Was it a concern that appeared on Lucien’s master’s face?  "You felt it as well..."

"Yes, I did,” said Dream. “Matthew, see The Dreaming, and report to me at once for any cracks in its foundation or any sort of anomalies.”

“Yes, Sir!” Matthew flew away, exiting through the window.

“Cracks, my Lord?” Lucien asked.

“Yes.”

"Dream," Dream heard the voice of one of his siblings speaking to him through his sigil that they hold. “We’re coming through." It was Death, her usual face that wore a smile was too now filled with concern. With her was Desire. To have his younger sibling there meant this also disturbed them. "We sensed it."

"It seems it is awake," Dream said.

"This early? Now?" Desire questioned. “How are you so sure?” It was the first time Dream heard his sibling speak without certainty, without their voice that charms mortals and immortals.

"Yes,” said Dream.

"Then we must find it."

Death met Dream’s eyes and then called for this sibling to stop them from leaving The Dreaming. “Desire. It cannot be done.”

"If it is fate, then we have no right to meddle," said Dream. “It is in the laws to not intervene with the works of our siblings,” Dream reminded them. “Don’t

"Have you forgotten, brother? This being can destroy the cosmos, which includes us. Which includes Father Time and Mother Night!"

“And from that destruction shall the Phoenix birth new life. A new world. A new universe. A new order.”

“And if we cease to exist in that?” Desire questioned him.

“That is for the Phoenix to decide – and where do you think you’re going, sibling?” Dream appeared before Desire, stopping them from leaving his realm. “Do not try what you have done with me, dear sibling of mine. Your tricks might have worked on me – trapping me for nearly a century, and tricking me to kill my family by fathering the Vortex with Unity Kincaid while she was in The Dreaming. 

“But not this time. Because this is beyond us and beyond our realm. Beyond Father Time and Mother Night. This is Creation itself.”

“Watch me,” Desire smirked and was to leave but Dream grabbed them by their neck to keep them from slipping away.

“Do not test me, dear sibling,” Dream sneered.

“Dream,” Death warned him.

Glancing at Death and then to Desire, Dream released them and let his young sibling leave The Dreaming. Alone with only Lucien to hear, Death spoke to her younger brother: “You know who it is, don’t you?”

“I do,” said Dream. “For a while now, I have known. And Desire cannot and must not move against them. Or else they will be killing family.”

[four-white-trees]

Sunday Six - Back on my bullshit edition

So the election happened in the US and it was. bad. so to cope I made a police detective OC I'm hoping to smash into Akutsu 💀 idk if I'll ever post this if i ever even finish it but Akuma has gotten me through this week

Shoutout to @humbletaxidriver for letting me yap and contributing some ideas and also tagging everyone else @overdevelopedglasses @jichanxo @passthroughtime @skysquid22 @mike----wazowski @ikainkspills

Akutsu was usually found around Shichifuku street in the early evenings, and that night was no exception. The late summer sun had fallen behind Tokyo's skyscrapers, casting Kamurocho in a beautiful polluted glow. Akuma saw him and a group of about nine men, none of whom reached his shoulders, loitering in the big parking lot next to Kanrai.

Judging by how sweaty and flushed everyone was, they'd just finished a round of basketball. The ball rested forgotten in a dirty corner of the parking lot. Akutsu was leaning heavily on one of the few cars left in the lot, his tank top pulled up to wipe at the sweat on his brow. Akuma couldn't help but get an eyefull of his thick waist. The line of tribal tattoos seen on his arm and left connected here, long, sharp shapes inked to the skin along his side and curved over the pad of fat on his belly.

Akutsu let his shirt drop, falling back over his waist, and his eyes met Akuma's across the lot. Akuma attempted his boyish smile, hoping to disarm any potential hostility from the man Akuma was meant to be investigating, but before he could so much as lift his lips, Akutsu had crossed the ten or so meters between them in a few long strides and threw his fist right at Akuma's head.

Akuma's own instincts were the only thing that saved him from getting his face caved in, as he dropped low and dove out of Akutsu's reach. Akuma didn't have time to wonder why he'd been attacked so suddenly - but he didn't need to.

Akuma had been upwind of Akutsu when he approached, so he hadn't been able to smell him. But now, with the big man upon him, he caught it: that wild, feral scent, deeply musky and decidedly inhuman. In a split second Akuma noticed his long, sharp nails, the way his pupils had shrink to long vertical slits in his bloodshot eyes, the sharpness of his teeth that he bared at Akuma.

Akutsu wasn't just a former yakuza, not just a shady businessman trying to take the reins of Kamurocho’s drug trade. He was something more.

Just like Akuma himself.

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue”

[DOODLES AND DRAWINGS]

So, in the last couple of days, I’ve been experiencing some mild writer’s block while progressing with the next chapter of DMTMYHB.

Rest assured, it’s about 60-65% finished if we exclude grammar and editing, so if I’m lucky, it’ll be out sometime along next week if I have the energy. Night shifts all fucking week.

In the meantime, I hope you’ll enjoy some scribbles and drawings I’ve been procrastinating with.

- Yours truly, WWW.

This is what I personally imagine Reader/“Cross-Hairs” looking like as I’m writing. Helps with some visuals, y’know? (Ignore the weird angles of her eyes in the second one plz)

Context: Buggy wanted to ask you something in private, only to discover you were engrossed in a conversation with Shanks. Fuck ‘im.

Gol D. Rogers’ Legacy: the Next Generation of Pirates in the New World.

Reader/“Cross-Hairs” — (former) Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates and the Beast of the East.

“Red-Haired” Shanks — Captain of the Red-Haired Pirates and one of the Four Emperors.

Buggy “The Clown” — The Genius Jester, The Flashy Fool, Captain of the Buggy Pirates.

Gol D. Could not have been any prouder, and is currently cheering on them from the grave.

Ah, young love ❤️ (… hope nothing bad happens to them…)

And there you have it! What I’ve spent the last few days working on, both sober and otherwise. Have some more doodles I might post at a later date.

If any of you have any fanart you wish me to put up on the page, regardless of what it is, I strongly encourage it (if you feel like it).

- WWW.

———

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu , @carpinchootaku , @ay0nha , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lokiscure , @internationalsuper-spy , @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin , @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314 , @autumn-slaves . @marvelouskatie , @floristoflillys , @dizzyenby, @redpool , @deliri-yum22 , @aemondsb1tch , @ackroxia , @gayandfairycore , @knightsfavoriteprincess , @asterizee , @aamethyst23 , @lizzie1107 , @cyberwears , @heylookliisten , @f41k47, @beep-beep1 , @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts , @rayleeya , @timeladyrikaofgallifrey

(If you want to be tagged for this story or content related to it, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

[tonydaddingham]

Enoch in particular is interesting bc of Saraqael. It's the ONLY text that lists Saraqael as an Archangel. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Uriel are identified as the Supreme Princes of Heaven, and Saraquel is one of the "seven holy Archangels", which also includes those four. Sandalphon isn't listed, but I DO think a fun little fact there is that he and Metatron are the only angels whose names end in -on, likely a reference to how they're the only angels who originated as humans. I don't think he and Metatron are 'twins' in the literal sense though? Enoch (pre-Noah) and Elijah (post-Noah) weren't contemporaries. They just happen to be the only humans who become angels.

hi!!!✨ god im so sorry ive taken so long to get to this, anon!!! - tbh, im finding saraqael a bit of an enigma, both from the GO narrative perspective and indeed trying to work out who they were in terms of biblical/apocryphal significance... i hope you don't mind, but im gonna talk about saraqael in general in my response; as seems to be the way, i typically get carried away in answering what seems to be a fairly straightforward ask!!!

edit: further speculation on BOL and saraqael's potential role in it

saraqael theory(?)/analysis:

i think are a couple of crucial bits to saraqael in s2, and not just the ones where they recognise crowley etc. i talked a little bit about what i think their rank is in GO, which i don't think is the same rank as the other archangels, but perhaps a lower archangel like sandalphon. in terms of what saraqael actually does... it feels like they are essentially in charge of earth operations, or something to that effect.

muriel is, by all accounts so far, a (very?) low ranking angel. and yet, when muriel finds the matchbox, it's saraqael that accompanies them to the archangels to report it. now, that doesn't necessarily mean anything - muriel could have gone to a supervisor and then it got escalated, but what saraqael says here:

makes me think that, actually, saraqael knows muriel at least to a greater degree than the separation of an archangel (or whatever tier), and a 'lowly' 37th-class scrivener would have. in fact, this is the only scene other than presenting the matchbox, i believe, where we see saraqael and muriel interact? there is some kind of history there, and potentially even a degree of fondness.

now, let's take into consideration the theory that muriel themself may have been higher-ranking, and got Got by the metatron. they originally were going to demote gabriel to 38th Class; was saraqael similarly the one who wiped muriel's memory, as they attempted to wipe gabriel's? what was the purpose of saraqael being at the trial, other than to fulfil that purpose? and they took muriel directly into their chain of command as a means of keeping an eye on them, protecting them?

this kind of supports my thought that saraqael is somewhat an operations manager (but also...not just that at all*), doing essentially the archangel grunt-work, including keeping an eye on unauthorised miracles:

then we take a look at their interaction with crowley; because i do think there's a lot more to unpack in this bit than that they may have worked on a nebula together, and that crowley doesn't remember them.

summarising a couple of observations:

the seemingly innocent but assertive point made that the trial was in fact real, and didn't take a long time to happen start to finish

the fact that saraqael even notices the interaction between crowley and muriel: he's dressed as an angel (and demonstrated as being a 'bee' when michael/uriel don't fully catch it was him), muriel seems - despite the aesthetic of heaven generally - to be tucked away in the equivalent of a cupboard cubicle, and he accessed a file without, presumably, any alarms - the file recognised his former rank/that he 'knew' the password... so what exactly prompts saraqael to come over in the first place?

saraqael looks happy to see crowley, possibly even a little relieved, but once again like they're... fond?

they use his chosen name (specifically not 'crawley'), and use it with ease despite knowing him pre-fall and therefore, theoretically, not having any cause to use 'crowley' up until this moment

saraqael seems disappointed that crowley doesn't remember them.

where am i going with this bit? well, put simply. i think saraqael had some hand in the mechanics of the fall. i think they were meant to wipe the fallens' memories, but jigged about with the settings. perhaps, now, they regret their part in it, and is working to undo it somewhat, from the inside. i think, where they can, they protect those that get fully wiped (ie. muriel, and gabriel had the wipe gone to plan). and i think, maybe just their favourites, they keep an eye on those that actually fell. and i think that they are trying to break out this information without outright saying it ("well, don't let me interrupt you! show him the trial..."), because they know first-hand the consequences. and they know the consequences, because they are literally metatron's operational right-hand* angel:

this would explain why they seem to remember metatron in the bookshop: exposure to him? seems to fully understand how dangerous he is? not only does saraqael look genuinely apprehensive on behalf of michael, but watch their eyeline movement:

(ok but a moment of appreciation for how adorably derek jacobi says 'piffle' i mean💕)

it almost looks like it goes from michael, and then flips to up beyond michael? as they clasp their hands together? and then after the cut, they're actually breathing so heavily, out of... stress? worry? this is such a tiny thing that may well just coincidental actor-choice on liz's part, but it certainly works in the scene context... that saraqael seems quietly and calmly terrified.

another point, back on the subject of saraqael's role in heaven; i feel like the source of both the earth observation files michael gets in s1, and the fact that metatron says he's "looked back over a number of [aziraphale and crowley's] exploits" may have come from saraqael themself. that's a bit tentative, but it would certainly fit that it would come, at least, from their department. say - metatron has been spying on our boys through the sigil in the bookshop (or something to that effect), has gone to saraqael essentially for intel, and then put the offer to aziraphale to return to heaven in order to split them apart, after seeing the extent to which they're entwined with each other.

we haven't seen a direct, lone aziraphale-saraqael interaction, but their line about, "we'll be keeping a very close eye on you, aziraphale.", doesn't actually feel as ominous as i once felt. in fact, it's muriel that saraqael sends down which - let's face it, by all accounts they are not the angel to send down to earth when camouflage is key - feels actually like saraqael was banking on covering up the miracle for aziraphale and crowley, or at least buying them time.

last little bit: the comment on aziraphale's frisbee halo trick makes me think once again of saraqael's potential role as, essentially, head of operations (declaring war is rather messy, they're right), but also brings me back to the point i made here about the halo toss... somehow, i feel like it signifies something a bit more than just a casual hand grenade.

and now for the bible-y bits

well, i mean, there isn't really a lot to go on, lbr. as anon said (hi, anon, if you made it this far✨), they're described as one of the seven archangels in the first book of enoch (20:6), and if ive read correctly, the second book describes that they brought enoch himself to heaven... so maybe the GO narrative will follow this somewhat? if saraqael feels somewhat responsible for metatron being in the position he is, and having done the hypothetical things he's done? and that's why they might be trying to undo it, or undermine it?

i think the first book also describes saraqael (who i believe is synonymous with sariel and suriel, as well as other different but similar angel names in biblical/apocryphal texts) as being essentially the observer of justice and injustice on earth, "who sin in the spirit", which would also track against them having potential control over earth observations, and them potentially guarding over those that have fallen/have been punished by heaven.

i think some islam and talmud texts also indicate that saraqael may be azrael and metatron respectively, but i doubt that is an arc that the GO narrative will follow, nor indeed other bits and pieces from enoch that ive read through... but certainly there's enough that looks like it could have hypothetically inspired the saraqael story that im interpreting at the moment!

and as for metratr-on, and sandalph-on, iirc that is the meaning of the -on suffix, to reflect being born of man...? i looked at this a little while ago and found zephon as another example... parsing out abaddon kinda drove me a bit insane though, so that's where i left it! i agree that i doubt that metatron and sandalphon are twins, but definitely seems to speak to their origins, perhaps!!!✨

[kenmascat]

jiang cheng's role and involvement in the burial mounds siege against wei wuxian and how he is directly responsible for it, a mini thread :

quotes from the unedited mdzs translation by exiled rebel translations which clearly state he was the very reason behind the burial mounds siege success to kill wei wuxian

chapter 1, prologue

“But, if not for Jiang Cheng making a plan that aimed at Wei WuXian’s weaknesses, the siege might not have succeeded. Should I remind you folks of the item that Wei WuXian possesses? Did you forget about the day that three thousand skilled cultivators were completely annihilated?”

chapter 43 -

After a moment of silence, Wei WuXian asked again, “What else have you heard?”

Wen Ning whispered, “Sect Leader Jiang, Jiang Cheng, brought a siege upon the Burial Mounds. And he killed you.”

Wei WuXian, “I’ll have to clarify this one. He didn’t kill me. I died from a backfire.”

(note how he doesn't defend the statement that jc brought the siege upon burial mounds, but only about the fact that he didn't directly kill him)

Chapter 68 -

Back then, during the first siege of Burial Mound, Jin GuangShan led the LanlingJin Sect, while Jiang Cheng led the YunmengJiang Sect; Lan QiRen led the GusuLan Sect, while Nie MingJue led the QingheNie Sect. The former two were the main forces, the latter two could’ve gone without. Now, the LanlingJin Sect’s leader hadn’t arrived at, having only sent people for the GusuLan Sect to command; the GusuLan Sect was still led by Lan QiRen; Nie HuaiSang replaced his brother’s position, shrunken within the crowd, his face still full of ‘I don’t know about anything’, ‘I don’t want to do anything’, and ‘I’m just here for the numbers’.

Chapter 104 -

(In the GuanYin temple scene, JGY himself says that if not for jc, things wouldn't have become what they were, implying he was a main factor behind the burial mounds siege)

Jin GuangYao wasn't swayed, continu- ing with a smile, "... Back then, the Lan- lingJin Sect, the QingheNie Sect, and the Gusulan Sect had already finished fighting over the biggest share. The rest co- uld only get some small shrimps. You, on the other hand, had just rebuilt Lotus Pier and behind you was the YiLing Patriarch, Wei WuXian, the danger of whom was immeasurable. Do you think the other sects would like to see a young sect leader who was so advantaged? Luckily, you didn't seem to be on good terms with your shixiong, and since everyone thought there was an opportunity, of course they'd add fuels to your fire if they could. No matter what, to weaken the YunmengJiang Sect was to stren- gthen themselves. Sect Leader Jiang, if only your attitude towards your shixiong was just a bit better, showing everyone that your bond was too strong to be bro- ken for them to have a chance, or if you exhibited just a bit more tolerance after what happened, things wouldn't have become what they were. Oh, speaking of it, you were also a main force of the siege at Burial Mound..."

all this clearly indicates Jiang Cheng played as the main force at the siege at burial mound against wei wuxian. If there's anything else I missed please feel free to add in.

Edit (22nd July 23')

adding this comment by @jiangchenganalysis

a great addition to the post, thankyou so much.

Another addition by me :

In ch72 (EXR translation)

wei wuxian finds that wens are being put in concentration camps, and that wen ning died, after learning about this he attacks the guards and frees the wens from them.

Following up, in the next chapter, there is a meeting at jinlintai with many sect leaders and people present, wei wuxian's topic is brought up and how he attacked the guards Jin's question Jiang Cheng who was present there about it, he apologized and said wwx's actions were too much and said they (wwx and jc) owe them for helping them during the sunshot campaign.

Then there is this -

Nie MingJue, “You owe them gratitude? Isn’t the QishanWen Sect the ones who caused the YunmengJiang Sect’s annihilation?”

Within these few years, Jiang Cheng insisted on working late into the night every day. That day, just as he decided to rest early, he had to rush to Koi Tower overnight because of the thundering news. He’d been suppressing some anger under his fatigue since the beginning. With his natural competitiveness, he was already quite agitated since he had to apologize to other people. When he heard Nie MingJue mention the incident of his sect again, hatred sprouted within him.

The hatred was directed at not only everyone who was seated in this room, but also Wei WuXian.

(ch73)

During this meeting be never once defended wei wuxian (only lan wangji and mianmian did) and he agreed with Jgy when he was badmouthing wei wuxian.

This also shows that he did not step in at a crucial time where everyone was against wei wuxian and all the hostility lead to the nightless city massacre as well which lead to wei wuxian dying eventually

[kandyrezi]

Kcalb + Wodahs [thesis]

Still working on some fics, but in the meanwhile, I had this post in my drafts for so long and I forgot about it entirely, so I thought I might as well edit and post it now.

I was going to discuss the “Kurotsuno & Sullivan’s relation to Kcalb” theory first, but I got finished with this one a lot faster, so I’ll be posting the former one at a later date. This headcanon post concerns Wodahs & Kcalb + their relation to one another.

This is just for fun, so I apologize for any potential inaccuracies - if that’s the case, then I implore people to point them out so I can try and fix any inconsistencies there might be. This is quite short, but there’s always a lot to talk about.

I want to first start off by not focusing on either Kcalb or Wodahs, but on other characters far distant from TGG to give a bit more context and background behind my theory. Namely, this image here is quite intriguing.

Ivlis, Rosaliya, & Reficul are labeled as, “Manufactured by God” - that is, they were created by the God of the world they (used to) reside in.

Two appear to be missing from this picture, leaving out Satanick & Kcalb, but they obviously had to appear somehow. They did not materialize out of thin air by nothingness - we've seen previously, as an example, Siralos created Ivlis (& Igls) from flames, Meikai was created from a star by Satanick. So, if their corresponding Gods did not make them out of something, then where did they come from?

Speaking out of materializing out of thin air, All of the Gods ALSO had to “appear” somehow, as they are not clearly the highest deities in DSPverse, considering Vicers, Justim, Photon, Nortkele, Reminiscences are all above them in terms of ranking and categorizing, although it's largely unknown what they are supposed to represent (in the grander scheme) or even what species they are. They could also similarly just be cosmic deities, but higher-ranking than the gods we currently know most about.

It is likely, as one of many possibilities, that either Justim or Vicers created them. Judging by the image below - by how Justim is in focus and standing in front of all the other gods - I’m inclined to think they are the one who created all the Gods, at the very least, since they have been stated to be “God of Gods” - yet Vicers has never been called “Devil of Devils”, which would make sense if Vicers only created two of them (Satanick and Kcalb), as the rest of the devils were created by their own corresponding Gods.

Justim: *gestures behind them* these r my ocs! ^ u ^

(Not really related as such, but Photon and Nortkele are fairly obvious in a sense what they’re supposed to represent (it’s pretty much spelled out in their names), but that leaves Reminiscences… so, maybe they (she?) are a personification of “Matter” while their dark counterpart is a personification of “Antimatter”? Either way, they’re supposed to represent at least something floating around in space? An atom? A neutron? We’ll have to wait patiently for a while longer for another clue.)

Anyway, back to Vicers.

“The power to bestow life and the power to take it all away.”

So, Vicers can both create and destroy, it seems like. If he really did make Kcalb, he could have bestowed the latter with his destruction powers.

Vicers & Justim’s relationship seems quite complex, they’ve been inconsistently described as several things ( “can’t stand eachother, can’t live without one another either” / “used to have a big fight in the past”, and now “lovers” ), all these facebook relationship statues could be spread out within a specific span of time; maybe they started off as friends, then got into a conflict with one another, almost started (or did start) a war, then they made up, but it was still quite tense between them. At long last, they settled their differences and then became friends again, eventually lovers.

Wodahs could similarly have been created by either Vicers or Justim (or they could have created them together, as sort of a peace treaty and proof that two opposite beings can co-exist together, but I am more inclined towards only Vicers having manufactured Kcalb, as well as Wodahs.)

EDIT: Future!me has come to edit this wall of text before posting, having now read some of the more recent information from one of DSP's drawing livestreams. "Did Etihw create Wodahs?" question was answered with an uncertain: "You can say yes AND no to that." well, that kinda throws the "Vicers created Wodahs" theory out the window, doesn't it?

So, what if Etihw gave life to something that originally belonged Kcalb? Like a feather from a crow?

Characters of different species can be “blood siblings” as we’ve seen (Igls Unth is an angel, Ivlis is a demon, but they’re still technically 'siblings' created by the same god, if you see them as such), so could Kcalb & Wodahs be the same? It might be more appropriate to refer to them as half-siblings in this case.

Reficul & Sol / Ivlis & Igls Unth “Devil and the Head Angel” - both duos are considered blood siblings, so why couldn’t Wodahs & Kcalb be considered the same? (granted, Reficul used to be an angel, so using her is kind of a flimsier example.)

I personally can’t get behind either 1) “Kcalb used to be an angel” or 2) “Wodahs used to be a demon” theories, because

1) For Kcalb to have been angel, he would have to have been created by Etihw in the first place, but that’s clearly (as we saw in the previous point) not the case.

2) Wodahs has been an angel since he was a young babey;

and a FALLEN angel, no less? Gray wings in DSP’s universe are associated with damnation by god... hmm…

We’ve seen angels turn into demons, but never a demon turning into an angel. The concept of "redemption for your sins" doesn’t appear to exist with Gods & their angels. Once you’ve turned into a demon, there is no "reversing" that effect or gaining back the status as an angel. It’s the same with biblical/mythological concept of angels/demons (as all fallen angels automatically become demons, but never in reverse).

Since all angels are typically created by Gods, Wodahs could possibly be an outlier and considered not a true angel, but a “farce” in a sense he was created out of something that originally belonged to a Devil, hence why his wings have been gray since he was a child.

He’s also quite brutal in some instances in TGG in contrast to most angels; he keeps bullying/purposefully reminding Kcalb about his missing eye (instead of just letting go of the past), chokes out Grora and almost breaks her leg when she messed up his flowerbeds, and his GGT!self was seen trying to drunkenly molest GGT!Grora in one of the omakes...)

But, maybe in the past things were different with someone like Etihw (who is generally considered an anomaly amongst the other gods), who was willing to give Wodahs actual pure white wings and halo when he left Kcalb to go over to Etihw’s side during the war (thus is the reason Kcalb took his eye for betraying him in the first place).

He still shows more loyalty to Kcalb in the game over Etihw despite everything, which reaffirms my theory of him not having a very close relation to Etihw post-war.

Curious to hear anyone else's thoughts on this!

[rivetgoth]

I’m like 16k words into my next novel (working title This Edge of Midnight), super close to the end of Part 1! A few notes:

After I finished Waxed and Feathered I told myself I’d never do long chapters again because it was such a headache to edit and then immediately threw myself into another long-chaptered project 🫠 Ah well, at least it’s a LITTLE shorter—W&F’s Acts come out to like 25k words on average while I’m predicting closer to 20k max with TEOM. I think it’ll also just have a more reader-friendly structure in general, as once Part 2 begins it’s going to be broken up into short scenes with subheadings.

I found out ~10k words in that copyright for song lyrics is a fucking nightmare that makes no sense and works only to censor art and bring more money in for massive labels. Fuck copyright sincerely. Basically: Song titles and allusions to songs in a work of fiction are fine, song lyrics themselves are not. So for example, I can state in the story that Eris is listening to “Tainted Love” by Soft Cell and describe the song, but if I actually write out the lyrics record label Some Bizarre could hypothetically sue for copyright infringement. I’m at least grateful that I learned quickly so that I could pivot quickly. Nothing of too much value is lost at this point. I’d originally wanted to interweave lyrics to “Friday I’m In Love” into Part 1, but instead that just became the chapter title, lol.

On that note, I do want to ask Chris Connelly personally for his blessing to use “This Edge of Midnight” as a book title. As previously stated I do not need copyright permission to use a song title so this would be purely out of respect, not necessity. I don’t want to do this just yet though, as I’m still so early into the first draft of this project. Gonna wait until it’s actually gearing up to be published—hopefully it won’t take 7 years again 😭 Also speaking of that, happy birthday Chris!! 🥳🎉

I’m also really excited to finally be at a point where I’m introducing more of my characters into the story! So far we have my protagonist Mickie, who’s a mixed rivethead witch in her early 20s. She’s very withdrawn and avoidant, she uses magic to kinda deflect from dealing with her own emotions (like “hmm I’m feeling weird maybe a tarot reading will tell me why” ykwim lol). Her boyfriend Zeph is this grungy post punk guy who plays guitar and works at an animal shelter. Their mutual best friend is a bisexual dancer named Jasmine who’s this very 90s Switchblade Symphony type goth girl, really sweet and bubbly but objectively more put together than Mickie or Zeph. And we JUST met Chauce who’s this laidback punky tguy drug dealer and Foxy who’s a pretentious vampire goth event promoter. Pretty soon we meet Eris, the gay former frontman of Mickie’s favorite electroindustrial band that broke up 5 years ago and has since become washed up and strung out, and Genie and Star, a white hippie couple who pride themselves on selling ethical drugs and love gentrification. It’s a really fun cast of characters and I’m really excited for everyone to see them brought to life!! :D

[claraxbarton]

You might have answered this before, BUT I’m a recent follower and curious ok!! Generally speaking, what is your writing process like? I’m genuinely so impressed by how many different fics you’ll have going simultaneously and they’re all updated SO frequently. AND THEY’RE ALL SO GOOD?? Like do you have vague plans/outlines or drafts that you expand on/edit? Your accountability post will mention writing a few thousand words and then there’s an update the same day and it’s written so well lmao it blows my MIND bc it seems like you just come up with the plot on the fly and then casually write a lil masterpiece after work like it’s nbd. All of this to say I appreciate your work so much ♥️

<3

So uh, to start off with, I'm guessing when you say you recently started following me, you're probably just reading my HRPF fics? I SAY that/ask that because I've bounced through a few fandoms and I kind of go back and forth between being VERY prolific and finishing up projects and kind of... losing steam.

To be fair to me and not to scare anyone off, before this year I have, for the last decade and change, been juggling two full time jobs, part time work, childcare and a lot of volunteer work PLUS trying to write so like, I'm cutting myself some slack on abandoned projects. Because I'm finally down to 1 full time job and 1 part time gig that is only during the summer. I will ALSO say, in December I switched meds for my anxiety/depression so I'm on a new dose, new meds for the first time in 5 years and I do think that's been really impactful in a positive way.

SO, exposition and TMI out of the way:

I wish I could say I had a really clear process that I follow every time, but I don't want to lie. I create docs with notes - I'm thinking about including those as an epilogue chapter on the fics I'm currently working on, if anyone is interested in my scribbles aside from myself and my beta - and SOMETIMES I create outlines. A lot of the time, I will write a chapter or two and THEN create the outline? That's what happened with Gold Rush, but also with Gold Rush, I have already deviated from the outline like... a lot.

I'm trying to be way more chill with myself than I used to be. I was in this deep grind of forcing myself to be productive because that's where my value was (@kangofu-cb is a real one and has been trying to beat this out of me for years. Beating with love). And I'll be honest, being kinder to myself and putting less pressure is, like, so far, so good.

I usually have about, like... a dozen or so fic ideas in my head at any one time (@dwisp can attest to the DAILY messages of 'hear me out' as can @kangofu-cb), but I uh, I really feel 4 long fic is my simultaneous max.

I also have a problem with like, so if you DO want to read some of my not HRPF stuff, I think a good primer is the WinterhawkHood month I did in October with a fic a day, and the consistent issue is: I feel like I'm really good at creating a premise and that premise wants to exist beyond 2-5k. So longfic is probably the format to best tell the stories I want to tell, but, like, writing shorter fic is a lot of fun? That also does NOT answer your question.

Oh! MUSIC! It's so so so so important to my process. I used to put on specific artists, like really get into a singular vibe for a fic. But these days it's just my routine sleepy sad girl playlists (name coined by a former assistant and like she wasn't wrong). Which also probably explains how much sad sack Leon there is in my current fics. I should probably like, get some new playlists going...

Uh, in terms of like, my style/my ideas... so my professional life is theatre adjacent, and I think because of that, dialogue and THE INCITING INCIDENT are really important to me. So usually any fic idea forms around the kernal of the meet ugly and some choice words.

Like, for Gold Rush, I absolutely started from the idea of Leon being a bitch to the press and getting a text from an unknown number/Matthew and it just grew from there.

For Playing Favorites, I absolutely wanted to have former camboy Vince realize his new... work colleague??? Adam Larsson knew he was a former camboy. Which is funny because that moment happens in the middle of the fic (which I AM going to update again soon, y'all might vote consistently for Gold Rush in the polls but this weekend I think it's gotta be some love for my two Lars&Dunn fics).

For Northern Attitude, that inciting incident is, uh, about to occur in ch4 that I'm currently working on. And it's. Well. Yeah. So I got the idea for that 'scene' if you will first and then figured it out backwards?

For Wildfire that, too, has an inciting incident that has yet to make it into a chapter. But she's coming soon.

So really, only Gold Rush started as the beginning as far as ideas went for me? That said, I still START at the beginning when I write. I used to scribble down scenes and then piece them in, but I honestly found it constrained me more than anything else and I'm aware that doesn't make much sense.

I feel like this entire answer is a total nonanswer of me just blathering away. I hope at least part of this is what you wanted and uh... sincerely? Thank you for asking. It means a lot and like, my process is weird and inconsistent but I do genuinely love to talk about my writing.

[majorbaby]

20 questions for fic writers

thank you so much for the tag @bornforastorm, i loved reading through yours :3 

i will tag @marley-manson / @rescue-ram / @persianflaw / @leonardcohenofficial / @raywritesthings

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 14… will be 15 in under 24 hrs ;)

2. What's your total Ao3 word count? 136,971… just over 100K of which were published this year :D 

3. What fandoms do you write for? MASH at the moment, with no end in sight. I have two ideas for twin peaks but not much motivation to write them, let alone the discipline. 

4. What are your top five fics by kudos? if you really wanna know here’s my ao3 and you can you sort by kudos, i don’t wanna link my fics in other fandoms that are almost 7 years old now… pls… 

5. Do you respond to comments? i used to be quite diligent about doing it but when i was publishing near-daily for kinktober i fell behind because i was literally writing every day. i may still go back to respond to them because i like doing it. 

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? the beejhawk sex pollen fic (heavy dubcon warning)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? i’m realizing that most of traphawk fics are only ‘happy endings’ if you see them as self-contained, which they aren’t really, because even though trapper’s exit isn’t at all relevant, i’m not consciously ‘unwriting’ that. but in-fic probably Goodbye, Farewell and Amen to That because it explicitly states that TrapHawk can handle whatever is thrown at them, which would include whatever happens post-fic. 

8. Do you get hate on fics? for a while i had an anon who submitted vagues about me / my work so like yes, i’ve read a couple vagues seemed they were about my fic but, and i know this sounds like a cop-out but genuinely, i’m kinda flattered by anyone who hates my fic and still manages to read the whole thing and write a public post about how how they didn’t like it? like, what are we??? 

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? i consider myself primarily a smut writer, only incidentally non-smut writer. i write all kinds and can’t wait to diversify more. 

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? my dream fic is a specific crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? yes

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? not recently, but in former fandoms yes. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? sort of. it isn’t published. but maybe soon. 

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? traphawk is the ship to me. some things we should be dramatic about: there’s the traphawk that i write and then there’s the traphawk that i live, which only my irl trapper understands 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? now that i have discovered the margaret longfic i really want to write i’ve officially abandoned my 80K canon-compliant margaret WIP

16. What are your writing strengths? i’m disciplined, i want to improve, i take risks, i’m curious, i’m honest and i welcome strong challenges from the people who edit my work.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i have some barriers (i’m dyslexic and english is my not my first language) but i could still stand to be much more diligent about grammar and punctuation. beyond that, my prose tends to be flowery and verbose and need to be reined in a lot. i’m trying to get better at on my own but it helps that my OG beta, marley, is kind of my stylistic foil lol (hope she doesn’t mind me saying), she trims a lot of the fat from my work and helps me communicate my ideas better. lastly, sometimes i suffer from being really married to an idea that sounded cooler in my head than it does on paper, and i have a really hard time setting it down.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i say this as someone who is multilingual - it’s almost never a good idea, especially in fic, if you’re having a main character speak partially in another language for no reason except to note that you, the author, knows that they speak another language. it could maybe make sense for atmosphere, but in that case, just say “they were speaking x language / they said something in x language”. 

i’ll be honest, it annoys me so much that if i see a character in a fic drop a few words in a language other than english and then continue on in english that i will x-out of a fic. there’s got to be some thoughtful in-universe explanation for that e.g. if you’re in Canada, bilingual service agents will say ‘Hello/Bonjour’ to you to indicate that you have an option to speak with them in either language. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? uhhh i honestly don’t remember. i’ve been writing fanfiction since before i was a teenager. first time i published it might’ve been for the legend of zelda. 

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? at the moment it’s cherry bomb! because it was a nice, smutty interlude in traphawk’s relationship and a fic that exists mostly for kink’s sake but still has a distinct vibe, unlike filthysweet which i don’t hate, but imo is unremarkable. CB is 95% style 5% substance and still contains weight somehow. i really hope i can recreate that again. 

[voxofthevoid]

Hey, I actually don't know if you've ever answered the question I'm going to ask (I'm like 90% sure you did lol), but you're very active on Tumblr, so I couldn't find an updated direct response 😅 - have you ever considered to post more often on ao3, not just one chapter for each work you're currently posting? From my understanding, all JJK and Marvel works you have on a current schedule are finished? And don't get me wrong - of course you have life and I don't mean you SHOULD post everything all at once, but as a fic writer myself - I do not have a patience to sit on my works for long! Like I need to share my obsession I have with certain ships ASAP. For example, your Shibuya Swap fic - someone already picked on that too - will take 2 years to post! That's insane, I don't know if I would like my own stuff in 2 years enough to not feel embarrassed about it and delete, and you will be coming back to it on a monthly basis for 2 years at best, 2.5 at worst, if something will not change the schedule by that time.

Or could it be, that those works aren't actually *finished* it's just that you have a general idea or "drafts" how will it start, progress and end?

I really admire your consistency though, but sometimes can't help myself, but think "Man, I wish you'd post *that* fic more often, it's SO good!" Or post like one fic, just 3-5 chapters of it in a month or sum. But alas, I will restrain myself from begging on my knees in the ao3 comments, because I can understand how annoying it can get, FAST (I dealt with certain people there, too).

Have a great day and please don't take this question as an attack, I'm just a desperate fan of yours, who can't even mind my own business most of the time due to being an ANNOYING person with ADHD lmfao🙏

You WILL see me generally commenting *OMG SO GOOD WOW HOLD UP* gibberish on your works, though (it is a threat).

Haha, don't worry, I won't bite your head off for this. No offense taken or attack interpreted 💜

I have answered a few versions of this question before, twice in relation to JJK and at least once in relation to MCU. They're all somewhere in this tag (link only works in browsers), and the former two will be more recent...but well, that tag has 127 pages of results and Tumblr search sucks balls; even I can't find my posts most of the time, so I definitely don't expect others to. But I did hunt down the most recent one: https://voxofthevoid.tumblr.com/post/746745605036064768/hey-i-was-wondering-why-you-post-one-chapter-a

As for stuff you've asked that's not covered in that answer—

My works are all finished, not just drafts. The "plot bunnies" I talk about are outlines of varying detail, but the fics I'm posting to Ao3 as well as the fics I've posted in previous WIP Wednesday installments are all complete. They need editing, but my first drafts are essentially my final drafts. I proofread to catch typos and grammar errors and to generally polish the phrasing. My day job is editing, which means I'm extremely lazy about editing my leisure writing, but I manage a decent pass.

Regarding how I feel about my work years down the line: I've more or less settled into my writing style. It's still changing and growing, and I enjoy experiments and challenges, but the base quality is at a level I'm content with in terms of both prose and mechanical elements. I'm not embarrassed by anything I've written after 2018, and I don't really see that changing. I will always see the flaws prominently, both objective and subjective ones, but I'll also see the strengths. The older fics (2014–2018) are of significantly poorer quality as well as clumsily executed in many, many ways, but I'm still proud of my ideas and absolutely delighted by how they still entertain so many people. Regardless of my personal feelings toward my writing at a given time, I won't delete my fics.

As for patience, I am indeed patient 🤣. Well, for a year or so, I've been posting snippets from whatever I'm currently working on as WIP Wednesday posts, so I am actively sharing the pieces that I'm working on, but I'm pretty comfortable with sitting on the full stories for months or even years. It just doesn't bother me.

The only issue with how I build a backlog is that once I lose interest in the ship/fandom, my posting slows down, and I get 100 times lazier about editing—to the point I'll likely post the rest of my MCU and Bleach works all raw and dirty. One of the reasons I'm posting as much as I do for JJK is that I'd like to avoid a similar fate in this fandom. Fool's errand with how my inspiration and writing function, but hey, no harm in trying.

And, in line with the post I've linked above, even if I had fewer fics on the roster, my pace would remain a chapter a month per fic. Let's say I suddenly stop writing and also whittle my backlog down to only 2 fics: That won't mean I'll post 3 chapters each for those 2 fics every month; I'll still only post twice a month in total—one chapter from each fic.

As long as no one's being rude or entitled (I've seen some asinine takes about prewritten fics being posted slowly), I consider people wanting more of specific stories as a compliment! However, you'll have to be patient right along with me 😂

And that's a wonderful threat; I look forward to it 🥰

[mirror-to-the-past]

Finished playing 358/2 Days! Needless to say, I now understand Xion's deal. The only thing that I raise an eyebrow at in terms of confusion was what Xion was to Sora and the nature of her design. I'll touch on the latter first, as the former is moreso story analysis from me and becomes more rambling.

How was it exactly that Xion was able to slowly sap memories of Sora's? In my understanding of Replica Riku's functioning, he was injected with Sora's (Edit: Riku's memories, I recall, albeit still tampered by Naminé) memories as per Naminé's influence. However, it seems Naminé had no power over Xion, leading me to wonder how the memories were given to her in the first place. Was it purely because of her being around Roxas, who has Sora's memories, that she was unknowingly able to do so? I could believe that she was created with an inclination towards such a function that then kicked into gear upon exposure.

As for "what Xion was to Sora," Riku says to Mickey that she has Sora's memories of Kairi (which, I'd like to mention, Riku believes were those "most precious" to him. I found that telling, especially considering how avoidant he was of Sora in the following game chronologically, KH2. I don't believe he considered himself important to Sora following his actions in the previous games, poor guy. Roxas' dream/memory of Sora being left behind by Riku and co. in Hollow Bastion where he cried upon waking says otherwise, regarding how much Riku's opinion means to Sora. I digress.) Naminé adds onto that by telling Xion that he views her (through Roxas, I assume) as he remembered Kairi. This is further demonstrated by Xion, in her imaginary sequence with Roxas, her, and Axel in Destiny Islands' Paopu tree sitting in the places of Sora, Kairi, and Riku accordingly. However, there's much more to Xion than JUST Kairi. If she just had Sora's memories of Kairi, there would be no reason for Roxas having his entirety sapped by her, first of all. Xion was taking much more than things regarding Kairi, from anything like Sora/Roxas' battle techniques, to memories of happenings in other worlds, things like keyholes and whatnot. That's not even to mention that SOMEHOW, Xion, and I would then assume also Sora by proxy, had memories of Riku's confrontation with Zexion in his portion of CoM! Double that with the fact that although her hairstyle was similar to Kairi's, she has Sora's eyes, and a grayscale (since it's black) hair coloring like Riku, and she's more like a combination of the trio of Islanders. Which would make more sense and be less reductive than just: "Xion is everything Kairi to Sora," because just that would write out a lot of other stuff Xion took, too.

Anyway...

That fever dream sequence was so interesting?? The fact that that scene from CoM was re-highlighted by the 358/2 Days story as important has me boggling my mind. Why is it that Xion widened her eyes in surprise and shapeshifted to Sora at the part where Zexion said: "You were the one that destroyed your home!" Even though it was established in that original scene that Riku was the one who did that by opening the Door to Darkness? The intrigue? Aaaa? What could this mean?? Going insane! CoM continues to be the most important game, with the Replicas now being revisited in Days, it being the birthplace of repressed memories of Sora's and sort of kick-starting the whole thing with how memories continue to exist within the heart as feelings regardless of conscious awareness of them, the memory of Sora's that Naminé messed with regarding the meteor shower (the event and imagery that keeps getting brought up across games- it feels important) (As of writing this I have now started Birth By Sleep and once again have raised an eyebrow at the meteor shower in the opening movie and tutorial sequence), man, CoM!

So, that's pretty much everything cohesive from the top of my head. Now comes the part of this post where I generally scream about things that I can recall from the story and general sentiments:

Xigbar is establishing a theme that for every game he's in, he says something extremely intriguing at the end and then nopes out. KH2 he hinted at other Keyblade wielders and then died. This game he sees in Xion who I now know as Ventus (I yelled: "That can't be Roxas, he's wearing different clothes" upon seeing that part and surprisingly I was right, lol) and then doesn't elaborate. So curious about this eye-patched man and all the things he knows.

I WAS RIGHT ABOUT AXEL'S NAME BEING LEA! 🎊 I have no idea what Saïx was like before he became a Nobody, but this guy is a complete jackass as of now, so I don't know why he'd think he's hot enough shit to pull the "you're prioritizing your new, fake friendships over the *real* ones from before, Lea," card, because dude. Axel deserves better than your blue-haired ass. I called him so many names this game, sorry to any Saïx enjoyers. Actually, not sorry. He's mean.

When Roxas flaked out in his and Axel's expedition to Castle Oblivion, and then emerged to consciousness with a yell of "RIKU!" I laughed so much. Like... of course Sora's subconscious gut response of even slightly engaging with a Riku-based stimuli would hit so hard that even his Nobody would then emulate a teaspoon of Sora's oncoming KH2 behavior. Roxas was just like *screwed up expression* 'Where the hell did that come from.' Hah.

Speaking of sad boy Wiku who I now hold in my hands so gently, his entire interaction with Xion post fever dream was one of my favorite parts of the game. He was so immediately kind towards the Nobodies/Replicas, once again, in a way that no one else has been, not least themselves. Of course, as it's implied that Riku likely saw Sora's face in Xion's, I imagine it would be harder to be especially cruel to her, but considering his sympathy towards Roxas in KH2, I think it's just in his nature. Just...

"Do you hate me for taking your friend away from you?"

"No. I'm just... sad."

IT WAS SO SIMPLE, YET SO EFFECTIVE. GUT PUNCH. OWIE.

Added Riku note: I only now noticed in the final duel between Roxas and Riku that Oblivion, the Riku Keyblade, has the same silver crown on Sora's necklace on the end of it. 🤔 Storing this interesting information away for later...

Xion! I love Xion so much! The fact that she was ready to go down a-blazing at the end because of how she knew she was hurting Roxas? AGH. Killed me. And yet, she got so wrapped up in her sense of purposelessness without Sora that she still was ready to take Roxas down with her at the same time? It feels so contradictory, and yet it doesn't! She didn't want Roxas to suffer, and she especially didn't want Roxas to suffer and feel, as she perceived it, incomplete. And just... ah.... she wanted to give him the greatest gift she felt like someone else could give her: a feeling of belonging in identity. Except she never truly realized that Roxas had found a different answer to that question than she had, even if it turned out to be a shaky one: he found his sense of home in the loved ones around him. He never cared to learn about himself or his origins when he was with her and Axel. His diary entries repeatedly showed him forgetting to ask Xion about his Sora dreams, and repeatedly forgetting to show Axel the Winner stick, because all he could care about when being with his friends was... being with them. Never answers. He only wanted answers when he had nothing else. Whereas with Xion, she was the one who would say she wanted everything to stay the same between them, and yet she, in a conflicting manner, was the one disastifsifed without having answers, therefore driving the three of them further apart.

And MAN the Winner stick with Axel! When he pulled it out of the envelope at the end of the game... ouch. I personally wonder if Xion was the one who gave it to him, considering between grilling Axel for answers and then escaping the castle, I didn't see any off screen time for Roxas to have given Axel the stick. However, in the in-between time of Xion being apprehended by Xemnas and fighting Roxas, there's definitely a window of time where Xion could've given the slipped the Winner stick to Axel, perhaps as a final attempt to reconcile him and Roxas. I personally found that thought so affective that unless there's a canon alternative, I've accepted that as my headcanon. It's definitely something I could see Xion doing and man, I love her. I have hope about Roxas being able to reemerge from Sora somehow down the line, but Xion? What with no one even remembering her and being a blank canvas of an individual to begin with, I don't have as much hope for her. I want to, but... :(

Lastly, poor Axel being stuck in the middle the whole time. That scene where he told Xion that 'he was the one who would always bring her back' rendered my soul vulnerable as all hell. That was the closest I got to crying, honestly. His voice actor perfectly exuded that angry, torn up feeling of trying so hard to help someone who doesn't want to be saved, despite everything. That line perfectly encapsulated Axel's struggle of being stuck in the middle this entire game series. Being a double-double agent in the Castle Oblivion mission. Knowing his previous life, and trying to appease the connections he has in this one. Trying to make it good in the Organization. Trying to find his own freedom. Trying to be a good friend to Roxas and Xion, even when he knows they're destroying each other. He just felt so helpless by the end of this game, seeing how despite trying so hard, despite saying the things he was meant to and keeping quiet about the things he wasn't supposed to, he ended up losing everything it was all for, in the end. By being too careful, he was left scorned and abandoned by the only things that mattered. I bet he wished he would have said "I would miss you," more than he did.

All in all, really interesting experience playing a game I knew was gonna end badly since finishing KH2, all while still becoming invested regardless. It was like reading some sort of old tragedy. I think the KH strategy is to confuse you just enough that you get invested by your attempts to understand the plot, therefore trapping you into becoming emotionally invested, as well. Good plan, writers. I'm taking notes. Another compliment to the writers, I've not found KH's dialogue bad, but it's not stood out to me a bunch for the most part. This game had some really good dialogue writing though, in my opinion. Liked it a lot.

Like I said, I've now booted up Birth By Sleep, and already have my head abound with theories and questions and- Xehanort's old now? I thought this was a prequel! Luke Skywalker is a Keyblade Master mentor? Why does Terra enunciate in lowercase? Why does Roxas look like Ventus? Okay, I do have a theory for that one, given the intro...

I restarted my playthrough after starting as Aqua, because I quickly realized doing so was going to make the story seem very disorderly. Stay tuned for my continued documentation of my KH journey! I'm healing post-358/2 Days by playing KH monopoly in Birth By Sleep's Command Board minigame, lol.