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[levoci]

° in the holy land

𓁄 Alexander the Great!Gojo x Female Warrior Reader

𓐬 — You try to fix a friendship that has no future with Prince Satoru, who seems more incomprehensibly psychotic every day, and after the death of his father being the straw that broke the camel's back, Satoru makes sure to consolidate his power as a bloodthirsty heir to the throne of Macedonia to later start the Panhellenic War, as his predecessor's plans were. Meanwhile, you, the daughter of a commander, the forgotten old friend of a very young king, have to secure a place in the coming battles, to fulfill an almost impossible promise for the sake of the soul of Philip II, maybe for yours too. Will you be able to make your place in the white-haired man's heart again? Have you ever lost it?.

⚠ tags and warnings — friends to kinda enemies to friends?? to lovers (hell yea) mentions of war, blood, fighting, girl idk it's a war. mentions of mental disorders, smut, hurt/no comfort, hurt/comfort idk what else lol so this will be updated as a chapter is uploaded

𓁄 a/n — my writing is quite influenced by classical literature (yeah i'm that petty) i know that for some it is a bit tedious to read and i will try to make it lighter, i hope you understand. on the other hand, i will try to explain in small notes the references to some historical facts (like idk, the sarisa) with asterisks, so those who don't know can get a little context. enjoy!

series masterlist || general masterlist [soon]

if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, let me know!

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His father had a very serene voice, a very peaceful gaze.

One morning, as he accompanied you to the strawberry fields, taking a bite out of one of the red triangles, he said—he asked you with a quiet smile. "When i leave, i would like you to take care of him. We know he's more of an idiot than his appearance lets on."

At that moment, you had laughed, because the war seemed far away, because it seemed that Philip had a long way to go, but now he... was no longer there, and now he murdered your father and razed cities. Sometimes you wondered if had you really failed that badly in the task your godfather entrusted to you, but all this was out of your hands, so was he this idiot?

Nah. You know there's something you don't know.

The blood of the man with whom you shared a bittersweet relationship is splattered on his pale hands. He wasn't a good man, no, but he was the only family you had left, at least according to the concept of family your archaic grandmother taught you and the white-haired boy when you were 7 years old.

The consolidation of his power after his father's death had been a tortuous, traumatic process, reaching the point of destroying Thebes and selling its people into slavery. Holy hell, the Thebes Suguru came from. Were they that bad? How bad were they? When did it get to that point?

Now his hands are stained with more and more blood, but now it's blood from your blood, isn't it? We're talking about the man who taught you both how to wield a sword. It should be different, right? Will he stop this paranoia? He has to. Will you? He will.

No. Your subconscious screams at you that Gojo could have stopped sooner. It begs you to do something, to say something, but what specifically?

Because, what can you do while he has Suguru by his side with that blank stare? No, actually, what could you do against Satoru himself? Would you even want to do something against him? You could at least curse him, right? You can. So why do you want to go over and clean his hands after all? Why do you allow yourself to still care?

"You're going to Athens."

Only when he gives that... that rigid order, that sentence, you realize that the corpse must have been there for a couple of minutes. That Suguru approached the balcony of your room, taking a breath and his hair in a bun. That Satoru isn't looking at you, isn't looking at your father, his eyes fixed on your dressing table, specifically on your jeweler. That that wasn't a question. That he was speaking to you as your king.

"What?" Your voice comes out raspy, weak, and a few pathetic tears that had accumulated in your eyes fall down your cheeks and slide down your collarbone at the movement of your head that tilts. It's midnight judging by the position of the moon that looks out your window, so you're wearing a white nightgown like a ghost from a horror tale, illuminated by the loyal moonlight and a weak candle on the wall.

They had arrived with your father yelling at you to wake up and before he could take refuge with your body, Suguru held him, Satoru called him a traitor and choked him until he coughed blood and fell to the ground.

This time he lowers his voice a little, but it's still harsh as if he's holding back from saying something else. "It's what you always wanted, isn't it? Math. Agriculture. It'll be tomorrow morning, the crown will bear the costs."

You frown, you don't stop looking at him, but no longer knowing him.

A very selfish part of you, very attached to the past, wants to think he suggests it orders it to keep you alive and safe, to come back for you when Greece is stable again and he has to leave for Persia,to tske you with him, you want to believe that he has reasons that are born from the appreciation of two old friends, but you know for a fact that your delusions have inconsistencies, that nothing makes sense because he knows it's a plan you would hate, because you know that's something the young a carefree Satoru wouldn't do, and more importantly, because even before his father was killed, even before you and he stopped talking, Satoru did and said hurtful things already, little by little, and you didn't understand what had caused that crack.

Clinging to any good reason or shred of honesty he has, you think of a clever way to respond to his piece of garbage argument. You belong to the closest family to the crown. The crown now owns all of Greece, obviously it's not about the costs, but you try, and.. you don't even know what to say really, so you just clarify it as if his excuse wasn't an stupidity. "You think it was about... about the expenses? My God. I have a duty here in Macedonia, my father-"

Suguru sighs and walks around Satoru to leave the room without even looking at you, it seems that he cannot bear the agonizing nature of the situation, you would also like to just leave, but in the second Suguru took your attention, Satoru took the reins of the conversation. Again. "There's just a war brewing here. You're not even from Macedonia. Your father is dead. You have nothing else to do her-' He lists and you interrupt him too, the difference is that you are hurt and sound hurt.

"I love Macedonia, Satoru, you know that. And you and i—"

"I'll go to Persia" the fact that he didn't even want to listen to what you were going to say about the two of you makes your frown go deeper.

"Yes, but your father-" you had held back from mentioning him because it is a tough subject for everyone, so when he opens his mouth to interrupt you again, you suddenly shout, "YOUR FATHER WOULDN'T WANT THIS! NOTHING, NOTHING OF ALL THIS, NOTHING OF ALL THAT YOU HAVE DONE!"

His gaze moves from the corpse to your feet, to your legs, to your torso, to your eyes. The cold night wind seeps into your bones.

His eyes have a mad glint, his jaw clenches and relaxes a few times before he speaks in a tone too threatening for you to bear. "You are the daughter of a traitor, I can't, I shouldn't, and I don't choose to trust you."

You both look at each other in silence, you review his angelic features wondering, is this real?

And it is, so that's it.

You swallow all your words and emotions, because for a brief moment you wonder how you could possibly stay one step ahead of him —for your own good, you remind yourself— and it's definitely not by kneeling down, so, forcing your body to follow your commands, you turn your back on him and reach up to blow out the candle with your fingers.

"I know what to do when i'm not welcome somewhere." You throw it out as a fact, but it's a reminder, because you'd already been kicked out of your home in Sparta, and he knows that story better than anyone. "I'll ride off myself with a guard. I won't be here by noon. Good night."

You lie down with your back to him, as if there were no corpse there, too tense remembering the fact, but hearing movement, a body dragging and a closed door, you allow yourself to close your eyes and to think that swapping identities with some visionary scholar who wants to philosophize in Athens might not be so difficult.

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well that was the preface 😮‍💨 hope you like it

[lu-fic-recommendation-of-the-day]

Any good “The Chain Meets Age (age of calamity) Link?” It’s fine if he has other names I just call him that

A Timeline Over to Find Some Closure by @the-au-collector

Summary:

After the lackluster visit to the temple, the Chain finds themselves in a new Hyrule just as disagreements run high between them. When one of their own is injured and their life hangs in the balance, the Chain must confront their own issues--and each other--before time runs out.

featuring: Age of Calamity Link, Wild's fucked up past, and even more time travel headaches for everyone!

Oh How I Forgot What It's Like by @snail-studios

Summary:

Trapped in Ruta, faced with a shard of Ganon, injured, afraid– Mipha is sure she’s going to die. Until she’s rescued by nine strange boys- one of whom looks identical to her best friend and love of her life. Things just get weirder from there.

OR

Instead of Sidon, Yunobo, Riju and Teba, the Chain are the ones to rescue the Champions. With help from an ocarina, Terakko and a lot of red potions, chaos and family bonding ensues.

(And Age is just confused and absolutely not jealous, thank you very much. He’s just worried for his girlfriend, as he should be. Duh.)

Wayward Son by Serenity_V

Summary:

For a moment, Wild thought time must have passed too quickly in his world since the Chain had last set foot there, and he had somehow missed most of Castle Town’s reconstruction, not to mention Flora growing her hair back out. Then, he saw…himself.

OR the Chain gets dropped into AoC universe. Conversations ensue.

How To Build Friendships (side effects include getting emotionally destroyed) by El_Marnie

Summary:

The Chain ends up in a familiar Hyrule, but this isn't what Wild's era usually looks like.

The Chain-Meets-Age fic that no one asked for. YOU STILL HAVE TO READ IT THOUGH HA HA HA-

Does my writing style change multiple times throughout this thing? Yes, yes it does. I'm not sure why it's doing that. Please ignore it.

Tags will update as the story does. Content warnings in chapter notes. Archive warnings will probably change as I hurl these boys headlong into a violent bloodbath.

Also, yes, I KNOW it's another Wild-centric fic about Time being his dad but it's MY self-indulgent fanfics okay and I happen to LIKE Wild and YOU STILL HAVE TO READ IT HA HA HA HA

Age of Calamity by K3ttl3_gurl_784

Summary:

A new Link will join the ranks of the Chain. How will Wild take to his new position as mentor, and how will his successor view him?

________________________________________________________________________________________________ His name would be Calamity.

Scrubbed Clean by MarcusDoodlesALot

Summary:

They didn't expect this new Link. They didn't expect him to be a version of Wild, they didn't expect him to be so shy and quiet, and they didn't expect him to have nearly Pure White wings.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

On Good Behaviour 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Darling, over here!" The woman chimes again. 

You look over at the golden-haired goddess-like figure. Older but not weathered for it. A woman of luxury and privilege. Just another echelon of Laufeyson’s lifestyle you'll never attain. 

"Mother," he tilts his head slightly, his cheek ticking. "I wasn't expecting you hear on a Tuesday." 

"Oh, I came to town to meet your Aunt Fulla. She was seeing a specialist and I thought it was a perfect convenience," the blond woman struts past her table.

Another, with a highlighted bob and not much years’ difference turns to smile over her shoulder. Her lips have that puffiness you see on that video app. You stand aside, hoping that you might just fade away. 

The first blonde, who he proclaimed as his mother, nears and frames his face before kissing his cheek. You see the twitch of agitation in his fingers. You will deal with that later, you're sure. 

"But forgive me, am I interrupting?" She lets him go and looks at you. "Oh my, aren't you a pretty thing?" 

She surprises you with a kiss as well. You feel the smudge of her lipstick on her cheek. You muster a smile. The expression still feels strange to you. 

"Loki," the other woman greets kindly as she stands. 

"Aunt Fulla," he utters. 

"Please, won't you join us? It's such a splendid coincidence to see you," she claps her hands then quickly flags down a man in black slacks and a pressed white shirt, "excuse me, dear, would it be too much for us to put our tables together?" 

The server smiles, better than you can, "of course, Mrs. Odinson." 

Oh, she's known here. Wonderful. All these people belong and you are the ugly duckling of the bunch. 

Loki gestures to you. He assists the server in sliding over another table. 

"Darling," the woman with the bob offers her hand as you sit next to her, "Fulla, but Loki always called me FooFoo." 

"As a child," He sits across from you. 

"Frigga," his mother offers her hand in turn. You shake hers as daintily as the first. Consciously so as your innate roughness comes without a second thought. "And what are you doing here in the middle of the day with my son?" 

She preens at him and tucks his hair behind his ear. He leans away. He suppresses a frown and his lips thin. 

"Business," he answers. "She is an assistant at my firm." 

"Oh, you finally found some help! This is wonderful. Does that mean you'll be available for your father's birthday?" 

Laufeyson peers around and signals to the same server, "scotch please. No ice." 

"Yes, sir," the server responds, "and ladies, a refill?" 

"Yes, please," Frigga smiles and Fulla nods. He looks to you next. 

"Just water please," you request. Your parole doesn't permit alcohol and you'd rather not. 

You look around evasively. This is awkward. Worse, you're not entirely certain this won't result in losing everything. Laufeyson has hardly proven himself fair. It would be beyond him to punish you for bad timing. 

"Mother, I'll check my calendar." He resigns. 

"Or your lovely assistant will," Frigga suggests and gives you dreamy look. "My she is... well, I'm sorry, dear, I wouldn't want to toe the line, but you are a rather beautiful woman." 

You almost flinch. It's quite the compliment. One you've never got. Your mother called you hideous; the women inside pushed you around, spit on you, and her son... 

"Thank you, ma'am," you say. 

"Ma'am, oh no, Fulla, did you hear that?" 

The other woman laughs. 

"Oh, a proper one we have," Fulla guffaws. "You're tryna push us straight to the grave, are ya? No, no, young at heart. Frig and FooFoo, ready to conquer the world." 

Laufeyson groans, "please, mother, are you sure you should have another drink?" 

"Yes, the driver will fetch us," she trills and the server returns on cue. "Thank you, Braxton. Oh, such a dear." 

The server, Braxton, doles out the drinks. You sit patiently as he strides away, promising to return shortly.  

Frigga pets her son's arm, "we've ordered. What will you have? Oh, avoid those peppercorns. Do you recall the last we came here?" 

"Mother, I'm certain I can choose my own meal," he shrugs her off as he reaches for the menu. He looks at you and you mirror him. 

"Oh, tell me you are not such a tyrant with this one," she chides. "Darling, he's all smoke. Trust me." 

"Mother," he doesn't look up as he browses. 

You go through the options, by the numbers. A salad is fine and affordable. Ish. 

"Perhaps you will figure out how to pull the thorn from his side," Fulla remarks with a snort. "Loki Beans, what happened to that little cherub who use to giggle with me?" 

"He grew up," Laufeyson sniffs and closes the menu. "Truly, we've come as professionals. You may keep all that to yourself." 

"Oh, are professionals not allowed to be humans?" Fulla chirps. 

You side eye her. You like her. She says everything you can't. 

"No, they are not," Laufeyson retorts and reaches for his scotch. "Where's the waiter?" 

You languish in the tension. It isn’t the women that make you uneasy, but the man across from you. His green eyes find you again. He’s calculating how he will take his discomfort out on you. 

“Oh, do not let him fool you. He’s still my baby nephew,” Fulla pauses to sip from her bright drink; layers of pink, orange and yellow. “Ah, he used to put on these little magic shows for us. Do you remember when the rabbit bit you and you cried terribly, Loki Beans?” 

“Aunt,” he sends her a terse look. 

“And there was the snake. That was particularly worrying,” Frigga adds as she swirls her tall glass. “It constricted him purple--” 

“Mother, please. She needn’t hear the tales of my childhood. I’ve forgotten them myself,” he sniffs. 

“How could you forget?” She squeezes his arm. “Perhaps you should try. You might not be so wound up.” 

You sip your water silently. Your mother isn’t as sweet. You’d never use that word to describe her. And when it comes to childhood memories, you don’t think she could pick out if it was you or one of your siblings who got stuck in the mud pit for an hour. She didn’t care then, and wouldn’t now. 

“I have much work to do--” 

“Which is why you came here?” Frigga challenges. 

Her son sighs and goes rigid in his chair. He tilts his head until his neck pops. His jaw grits. 

“It is good chance we found you. Your father called but got no answer. Perhaps I should have him call the office,” she looks at you. “She must be very good worker if you brought her to our special place.” 

Your cheeks tinge with heat. You had no idea it was somewhere special. You only went by how often he came. He didn’t let on either. 

“It is a public restaurant,” he shakes his head. 

The server returns and nips away some of the discomfort. The brief distraction is enough to catch your breath. You order your Greek salad and Loki opts for some Ahi Tuna. It’s all so much better than prison food; even the lettuce. 

“Still, I’m very happy for you, dear,” Frigga leans into her son. “And it is a great opportunity for one as young as her. She will learn a lot. That is, if you let her help. You’ve always been so defiant--” 

“Why don’t you write up a list of all the things I am and forward it to me?” Loki sneers. “I shall review and make certain to repress it all.” 

“Son,” she pinches his ear and he hisses. “Do not be smart with me.” 

“Always a sharp tongue on the little serpent,” Fulla tuts.  

“You are one to speak,” he bites back at his aunt. 

“Oh, but I am funny,” Fulla laughs haughtily. “You are just drab, my boy.” 

His hand forms a fist on the table. His already pale skin whitens around his knuckles. You don’t move. Like prey trying to hide from a hawk, you can only hope they fly over you. 

“Darling, tell me,” Fulla startles you out of self-preservation as she touches your skirt. For a moment, you’re reminded of the man across from you, though she only admires the fabric. “Where did you get this? I like the colour.” 

“Um,” you look down, “I... would need to think... um. Oh, a boutique down at Harrow’s Row?” 

“Harrow’s... oh, I’ve not been that way in some time,” she reaches to play with your hair. “You wear it so effortlessly--” She pauses and touches behind your ear. Your shift. “And what’s that? A birthmark?” 

You resist the urge to swat her away. That regrettable spiral of ink is easy enough to hide but a permanent reminder of your mistakes. You thought you were so hard, so tough. A rebel with a needle tattoo. All your so-called sisters who shared the same mark sent you to prison. 

“Just... a tattoo.” You answer honestly and peek at Laufeyson. His lashes flick curiously. “Nothing, really.” 

“It reminds me of a rune,” she tweaks her head to see it better. 

“It’s nothing. Really. I was a teenager once,” you shrug. 

“Not so long ago,” she draws away. “Ah, but with a face like that, you’ve far to go.” 

“Thanks,” you swallow and reach for the water. 

“My other son has many tattoos. Oh, I told him not to do it but...” Frigga mourns with a hand to her forehead. “He’s such a sweet boy but he acts before he thinks.” 

“That is one way to put it,” Laufeyson mutters. “Must we speak of him?’ 

“Oh, he’s so excited to see you. Another reason you should come to your father’s special day. Not to mention, you are his son.” 

“He would seem to forget it,” he rebuffs. 

“You two are too alike,” she reproaches. “So stubborn.” 

“He is stubborn, I merely do not appease him,” Laufeyson smooths his tie, keeping his hand around it. 

“Well, your brother is on the right foot now. He’s out and he’s going to be helping out your father--” 

“Ah, yes, he gets out and goes right back to the golden child. He will take on the business--” 

“No, that isn’t what I’m saying--” 

“Let me guess, he learned so much in prison. He is redeemed?” Laufeyson snips at his mother then wince. His eyes list to you and his eyebrows tweak. His brother is a convict? Like you? 

“He is trying. And he shows up. We never see you--” 

“Never see me? As I am working to keep all in order. Who sees that the gardener is sent on the correct day? That the maid does not disturb your luncheons? That the property is kept secure? I mightn’t be there in person but my hard work is there.” 

“I understand that, but we would prefer a son to an accountant,” she pets his hand and his fingers unfurl. 

“Mother,” he looks at the far wall. 

“Oof, I am getting rather stuffy in here,” Fulla says, “pretty one,” she taps your knee, “come. I need a cigarette.” 

You’re taken aback at that. You never smoked much. In prison, keeping the habit could rule your existence, more than it was already restricted. 

“Oh, sure,” you take the subtle signal that this conversation is better left to simmer.  

“And you could use some fresh air,” she stands and takes her purse from the back of the chair. 

You get up and look at Laufeyson. He doesn’t offer much back. You follow his aunt across the dining room. 

You go outside as she pulls out a brown cigarette, the scented type that makes you sick. You keep your distance as she lights it. She offers you one and you decline politely. 

“Families,” she snorts. “I’m sure you know.” 

“They’re complicated,” you shrug. 

“Very,” she agrees. “You have siblings?” 

“Seven,” you answer honestly. 

She coughs as her eyes bulge, “dear lord, your poor mother.” 

Poor her. Always her plights. A mother who had too many children to mind. A mother who never should have been one. 

“She didn’t let us forget so,” you affirm. 

“Oldest?” She wonders. 

“Right in the middle, with my brother.” 

“Ah, yes, well, middle children... Frigga’s the eldest, our baby brother, Freyr, can do no wrong. I’m the special one. Like you, I know how to make friends with the wall,” she inhales and lets out a plume. “Loki, the youngest, coddled boy. I’m sure you can tell.” 

“He is only my boss. They are all demanding,” you say. 

[lightlycareless]

I was thinking about what would happen if like Y/N or Naoya somehow turned into like a younger version of themself for a day and the other has to look after them. I think it’d be especially cute if the younger version only had memories up to that age. Like all I can imagine is little Naoya all shy with grown Y/N not realizing that’s his future wife or maybe little Y/N feeling a little intimidated by adult Naoya or maybe even overwhelmed since he probably dotes on her too much lol

UHHHH THIS IS SO CUTE????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

Also, I had to rewrite this various times because I wasn't sure how to begin!! Like I had the idea, but I just couldn't translate it into words; but, here it is! Which I hope will be to your enjoyment :>

Warnings: fluff. you and naoya turn into kids but in different occasions. who knows if they happened in the same timeline lol. there's also references to other works which I will link once I update the masterlist. :') but you're always welcomed to search in my prompts tag.

Happy reading!

On one hand, we have a young Naoya that at first, doesn’t believe there’s a girl like you walking around the estate. And secondly, that the two eventually marry… in the future? Your relationship is somewhat explained to him; whatever he could understand it anyways…

But it still doesn’t make it any better.

It’s just—impossible! There’s no way he’d ever be with a girl that… that is so rude like you! Improper of the Zen’in standard!

Yet, makes him feel all warm up inside whenever you prepare his favorite miso soup, make sure that he’s well-dressed if the weather is too cold…or checking up on him between your duties, simply to see if he’s alright, if he’s getting adjusted to this temporary situation while reassuring him a solution will be found.

Something that was unusually done, without an ulterior motive, that is. Which instinctively draws him closer and closer to you.

And that’s without even considering your affinity for the same hobbies as him! Like watching anime, reading manga… Naoya couldn’t keep to himself anymore, he needed to know more of his supposed wife.

“How do you know all that?!” He exclaims, surprised by your vast knowledge in all his favorite series.

“Well, I had someone to guide me. An excellent teacher, actually.”

“Really?! Who???” Naoya breathes, growingly slightly jealous at the notion of someone else gaining your attention—guess that has always been the same.

“It’s you, silly.” You giggle, gently patting his head and making him blush. “You’re very passionate about these things whenever talking about them, how could I just ignore you?”

If the previous situations weren’t enough to warrant his complete devotion, this was. Because from that point forward he begins to follow you everywhere, but no longer with the intention of scrutinizing you—no; or learn more about the future the two shared, but rather, with the desire to impress you!

Naoya needed to hear more of lovely laughter, your warm compliments, and your bright grin whenever bringing you gifts—like those flowers he somehow knew were your favorite though you never told him (not in this age), but yet made sense for a pretty girl like you.

“I’m also a really good sorcerer, you know? I can protect you if you’re ever in danger!” Naoya proudly states, unwittingly making you laugh. “It’s true! There’s no one stronger than me!”

“Oh, I know you’re the strongest.”

“…And the most handsome one too.” He quietly adds, you smile.

“Perhaps, but you’re undoubtedly cute right now.” You then pinch his cheek, flaring his face even further before giving you a dejected pout, in disagreement of your words. “Ah, there’s no need to get upset—being cute is just as good!”

“No, as the great heir of the Zen’in I can’t be cute, I have to be handsome!” he protests. “Heir’s have to be strong and intimidating, command fear with every step I take!”

“And you’ll do just that, in due time. There’s no rush to get there.” You explain, shuffling the top of his hair. “Everybody is doing their best to get a solution for your situation, so why don’t you enjoy being a kid again? Not everyone gets a second chance like this one.”

“Because I don’t want to, I want—” he suddenly goes quiet, as if slowly accepting his face. Or perhaps still making amends with it.

“What is it?” you worriedly ask, leaning closer to him. “Is everything alright?”

“…Will you wait for me, then?” Naoya says, making you blink. “To when I grow up and become stronger, capable of protecting you and making you happy?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden declaration, a striking contrast from the unwittingly arrogant child that never missed a chance to show off and impress you… now doubting his own capabilities.

But you could see it in his eyes, even then, what you always suspected of him became true: Naoya longed to love, and to be loved. To feel important, cherished. That his life was more than just fulfilling his family’s expectations and obtaining power.

He wished to be part of something greater, and that proved to be a family with you.

A part of you aches knowing that, if you hadn’t met him, his destiny would’ve been vastly different. Stings understanding his childhood had been nothing short of lonely.

But what you weren’t able to do then, you’re capable of now. Given a chance to mend those pains, give him a sample of what’s to come…

Reassuring him that life indeed, gets better.

“Yeah, I’ll wait for you. So, do your best until you become just that!” you cheer, offering him your pinky finger as the definitive sign of dedication, which he intertwines with his own soon after. “But don’t keep me waiting too long, we still have lots of things to do together once you’re grown up, ok?”

“I promise!”

When Naoya eventually returns to his normal self, you expected everything to go right back to how it was. But much to your shock, he’s unusually… shyer. As if ashamed that you got to see the only part he wished to keep a secret from you.

Yet, his actions would soon disprove your assumptions, revealing that the truth behind his demure actions were nothing less that appreciation, gratefulness at your unwavering commitment to take care of him, even when he was nothing less than a wimpy child—a stage in his life only God knows how much he needed that. To be cherished.

Makes him realize how truly blessed he is to have met you, and share his existence with yours.

Even on his last day on earth, he’ll never forget that.

You, on the other hand, are the complete opposite—at least in the very beginning.

When Naoya was nothing short of a reserved, shy piece of work, you went ahead and portrayed a striking contrast: enthusiastic to know all about this cool, somewhat handsome man that diligent took care of you.

Sure, you were a bit confused (frightened) as to why you were surrounded by people you didn’t know since you essentially lived at the Zen’in estate by that point, but after managing to calm you down by the presence of your family and a quick rundown of what happened to you, you were nothing but glued to Naoya, always excited to know what he’ll do that day, what cool technique he’ll perform during training…

Or, of course, what sweets he’ll bring for you to taste. Mochi are your all-time favorite hands down, but you’re always open for other suggestions.

“Do you like these?” Naoya would ask even though the answer was quite obvious in the way you gobbled all the treats one after another, yet he still wished to know.

“Yes! I love them!” you nod fervently, grabbing another sweet, unwrapping it, and moving it into your mouth. “They’re my favorite!”

“More than taro mochi?” He teases.

“No, that’s impossible. Taro is the best flavor in the whole world. Maybe Ube too.” You state confidently, in such adorable way he couldn’t help himself from laughing. And naturally, making you blush. “What…?”

“Nothing, guess it’s good to know that you’ve always been this way.”  Naoya admits.

“How?” you ask back, tilting your head.

“Like… you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s perfect.” He smiles before winking. “But I’m sure you already knew that, little princess.”

“N—no…” you quietly answer, looking away in hopes of calming your thundering heart, but of course, that would prove impossible for the following days because as soon as he uttered those words, they were imprinted into your mind… leading you astray.

From a giddy, playful girl, you soon turned into a blushing mess whenever he was around, now quietly admiring him from afar instead of eagerly approaching as you always did. As if you’ve grown self-concious…

And this sudden change obviously caused Naoya to worry; fretting if perhaps he had done something to bother you, if not worse…

But all those worries disappeared the moment you finally gathered all the courage to ask him what has kept your thoughts busy these past few days: about the relationship you two seemed to have beforehand.

Eyes glistening with curiosity as you eagerly awaited his response, revealing to him the hopeless in love child he always suspected you to be, far beyond the Gengar-loving, mochi enthusiast everyone knew.

“How did we meet?”

“At school, Jujutsu High.”

“What did you think of me?”

“That you were pretty.”

“And what did I think of you?”

“…That I was bold.”

“Did you like me??”

“Of course, I still do.”

“Did I like you too?”

“Not at fir—yes.”

“How did you ask me to be your girlfriend?! Oh, did you bring me flowers and chocolates?!”

“Actually, it was you who asked me to be your boyfriend.”

“Huh??? I thought you were supposed to do that!”

And Naoya wanted to, but your eagerness and fear of losing him made you move first. Now that he reflects on it, it’s quite endearing.

“It’s a moment I hold dear to my heart.” He confesses. “And I know you did too.”

You blush.

“…And where did we go for our first date? Was it Disneyland?!”

“Not quite, we went to the mall first.” Or technically, the fair. You frown.

“What?” He chuckles. “It was a nice date.”

“I always wanted my first date to be at Disney…”

“I did take you for Valentine’s day, though.” Naoya says, fondly recalling the way you… appeared to have fainted at his revelation. Luckily, you remained conscious throughout your whole visit at the park to make it memorable. “And we’ve gone many times after, too. I always took you whenever you wanted.”

“Really?” you breathe, stars in your eyes. “Did you really do that for me?”

Oh, if you only knew how far he’d go for you.

“I even bought you that giant Gengar you’ve always wanted. Got you all the gaming consoles you can think of, with the newest videogames too.” He goes on, each and every word making your smile wider and wider. “And naturally, all the sweets you can eat. But not too many, or it’ll be bad for you. I’d say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Yet, when he expected another question to follow suit, just as you’ve bombarded him these past few minutes, he’s welcomed by silence. A prominent saddened pout on your face as you seem to be… disappointed by his words. Or maybe the limits he’s had to place to your sugary addiction?

“Now, Y/N; it’s necessary for your health—”

“No, it’s not that.” You interrupt, shaking your head, before going eerily quiet yet again.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Naoya asks, worried at this point. “Does something hurt?”

“…I don’t want to be like this anymore.” You eventually confess, revealing the tears beginning to form at the corners of your eyes; it’s a sight that has his breath hitching to his throat, tightening his heart.

“Y/N—”

 “I want to grow up!”

“You will, we’re already looking into it, remember? There’s no need to stress about it.” Naoya attempts to reassure you, carefully wiping away the tears in your eyes that simply keep on flowing. “Just hang on for a little longer, I promise this will be over sooner than you expect.”

“But—but what if it doesn’t? What if I stay like this forever?!” you sob, causing something in Naoya’s heart to tighten. “I won’t be able to live all those pretty things again!!”

“Then I’ll just have to find whoever did this to you and turn into a kid myself.” His sudden words earn him a quizzical look from you, which he presses on with a smile. “That way we can experience all those things together again, like it was the first time.”

“Na—Naoya…”

“I promised we’d always be together, through thick and thin. Even if we turn into kids, or 100 years old.” Naoya continues. “So don’t cry, little princess. As long as you have me around, everything will be alright.”

The culprit is soon found after that, and you, with the work of talented sorcerers, return to normal.

However, as in both instances, you kept these new memories as a child—alongside a sentiment of nostalgia that hindered you from doinganything else that wasn’t being close to Naoya.

Such was your determination that it actually pushed you to do one of the things you least enjoyed, which was seeking him when busy, heading straight into the training grounds where you knew him to be at this hour—ignorant of who else was there—to pour your affection in a tight embrace and sweet kiss.

A demonstration that he doesn’t reject, though he is startled by it. Upon noticing your longing, Naoya promptly dismisses the rest of his entourage, before captivating you into his arms and deepening your gesture.

“What is the meaning of this?” He breathes, slightly flustered as he debates whether to lean in for another kiss or let you talk. Naoya choses the latter, he asked for an answer, after all.

“Do I need one?” you respond, a smirk appearing on his lips as you rest your face against his chest, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “…I just wanted to thank you for… taking care of me—No. For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.” And duty, he once swore. “And I’ll do it again, if you want me to.”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” You give him a breathy laughter, looking up into his eyes. Remaining so, still, attentive to the gaze you fell in love with, before assessing your feelings yet again—your undeniable truth. “I love you.”

And Naoya smiles in response, placing a kiss on your forehead as he gives you the confirmation of what you already knew; for all eternity so.

“I love you too.”

This just made the two fall more in love with the other; also, when your kids eventually come along you can easily say "hey, they act like you!" and Naoya will no longer be able to deny it 🤣

As stated in the beginning, this was very sweet 🥺 Thank you so much for filling my life with a little bit of fluff—it's always necessary during these harsh times. Now I want to write domestic fluff jfc. Look what you have done... lmao 🤣

Anyways, thank you so much for sending me this ask!! I truly enjoyed writing it.

Now, take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐍𝐨𝐱 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐀𝐮

“This is an au that I have made, and is up coming as I wanted some action from my “MerMay Chronicles” in May 2024. This one will be a bit more animalistic and hopefully a bit more horrifying for mine and your tastes. So, I will try and explain to my best abilities of what this Au is, and the planned warnings it will have.” - Ichor

||This Au Is Still In The Works||

Alright, this Au will not be like @/Kit-Willams “Space Marine Husbandry Sentience” or @/Egrets-not-regrets “Of Fin and Feathers AU,” but it does have an hint of their aspects in there as both of those aus has inspired this one. One of those aspects being that it’s set in the same modern era (21st century.)

This one is more of a… sea monster, elderich au. That the best I can explain it in a few words or less, but for an attempted longer description?

Nox Thalassic is an au of mystery, horror with hints of slimy fluffiness within. An au with more big or small, monstrous-like Adeptus Custodes & Adeptus Astartes that stay unknown to the modern world. Aways hiding in the deep depths, causing destruction like unseen gods, and forever known to be a myth…

||Information|| & {Questions}

What Is The Point Of This Au: It’s for my own enjoyment and yours if you would like to read it. Though, I mostly wanted to create this au to be included, but I realized my mindset is a bit different than others.

What Is The Goal Of This Au: What’s the enjoyment in it if you and I already know the end and climax of the Au?

How Will The Updates Be Like: I’m not honestly particularly fond of this question. I update when I can. I am uncanny for switching projects and WIP’s. Not to mention life can get in the way. Though, I update my Masterlist immediately.

What Are These “Creatures” Like: They are mythical; elderich. Something like the Cthulhu, Charybdis and a Lernaean Hydra.

Where Do These Creatures Reside: The deep depths of the sea: From the Midnight Zone all the down to the Trenches, and past that.

How Can They Cause “Destruction:” They usually come up for air on the darkest nights, the most dangerous storms, forbidden areas like the Bermuda Triangle, and even cause a such catastrophe for themselves in order to get what they want.

Can There Be Primarchs: Unfortunately, no. I have personalized this for the Adeptus Astartes & Custodies to be… even more horrifyingly overpowered. So, with having an Primarch in the mix? The planet might not survive…

Can I Ask You Things About The Au: Most certainly! I’m very open-minded to anyone’s curiosities. You can DM, and reply from this post if you like!

Can I Use This Au: Yes, if one would like to have a shot at this au? You are more welcome to, and please do tag me in it!

Does “The Emperor” Know: Of course he does.

||Warnings||

I highly suggest you heed these- and any other warnings as I or anyone else is not responsible for what you read. (This concludes my other creations as well.)

These however, are the few main warnings that it will have: Violence, Gore, Smut, Polygamy & Monogamy, Teratophilia, Xenophilia, and more importantly Slow-burn. There will be additional tags within a posted story under this tag.

||There Will Be A Separate Tagging(@) For This.||

For those tagged, you can choose to be included in this au as well or keep to your original. All is okay with what your beautiful lil’ mind does.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part One / Previous Part / Part 10.1 (you are here)

A03

Chapter 10 is complete and will be fully uploaded to A03 this weekend when I can get around holiday shenanigans. It's very long so tumblr gets it in parts. I'm sure I could make a Thanksgiving food pun there if I tried hard enough but alas I am not Steve nor Dustin.

Apparently, if you stumbled into supernatural shit, you were rewarded with a mountain of legal paperwork so absurdly thick that Gareth was almost positive it included a government-approved execution clause for anyone reckless enough to speak about things better left unsaid

So, here they were: barely a week past the lab incident, eating lunch, keeping their heads down, like their entire world hadn’t been turned upside down.

(He couldn’t even appreciate the pun.)

“She keeps looking over here.” Tiff’s pen tapped out a furious rhythm, her gaze fixed on one Nancy Wheeler, “And she’s been following us.”

“Well according to Steve she knows about--you know.” Gareth said, keeping things vague in hopes it would prevent any visits from men in black suits.

“I’m sure she just wants to talk.” Jeff said with a note of sympathy.

The fucking traitor.

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to talk.” Stewart muttered darkly, pushing his peas around his lunch tray with a fork.

“Only with people who don’t already know.” Grant tried to argue, and that rapidly dissolved into an argument regarding NDA’s and tricky legal language that Gareth tuned out in favor of his new found hobby--doing his level best not to think about anything beyond his lunch and what new D&D character he wanted to play.

His last one died in the prior game, and though Eddie had--weirdly and entirely out of character--offered to revive it, Gareth had waived him off.

They needed some normalcy right now, and if that came at the cost of Gareth’s beloved druid meeting her maker, then so be it.

Plus a new character was a great distraction.

(He was set on playing a noble elf known as ‘Gregg from Accounting’, but a second dwarf named Iron the Chef had been tempting…)

“She’s coming!” Tiffany hissed, slamming her pen down.

Mourning the loss of an easy, drama free lunch, Gareth sighed and prepared himself.

“Hi.” Nancy said, announcing her presence with quiet determination, books stacked in her arms and chin raised defiantly.

No one said a word back.

“Jonathan let me know what happened, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry you got pulled into all of this.” She paused, clearly thinking her words over, before adding; “Steve, Jonathan, and I used to practice.”

Nancy stopped again, this time blatantly waiting for one of them to say something.

She got more stares in return.

“Given that things sound a little open ended, and that there were injuries, I thought it might be good to start up again. Steve suggested if we do, you all should come too.” She finished, bulldozing right through her own awkwardness.

“Practice what?” Grant asked, confused and trying to cover it with suspicion.

“Defensive measures.” Nancy answered.

Seeing their unchanged blank stares, she gathered her books in one arm, formed a finger gun with her free hand, and mimed shooting in such a deadpan manner that Gareth almost burst into disbelieving laughter.

While he was haunted by visions of Nancy Wheeler holding a gun, Tiff loudly picked her pen back up, making enough noise that all eyes went to her.

“You beat my score on Mrs. Click’s practice test by two points.”

“Uh--yes?” Nancy said, blinking at her.

Tiff's eyes narrowed. “I’m kicking your ass on the final.”

Another dumbfounded blink.

“Okay?”

“Tiff’s coping, as are we--no…defensive measures necessary.” Jeff said, in a desperate bid to soothe things over, “We appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, seemingly placated by his response. “Actually, where is Steve? I wanted to talk to him too.” Nancy asked, changing topics with ease. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Ah-ha.” Tiff muttered under her breath, as if catching out what Nancy really wanted.

Stewart kicked her ankle.

“He’s with Eddie.” Grant said, covering the sound of their resulting scuffle.

“He’s been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.” Nancy noted, in that same neutral tone the Feds spoke in. All fake nice without giving a single thing away.

It was a little terrifying.

“We all spend a lot of time with each other.” Tiffany shot back, hackles very much raised and not bothering to hide it. “We’re friends. That’s what friends do.”

“Man, we are vicious today!”

“She’s really sore about that grade.” Stewart covered, offering a sympathetic pat to Tiffany’s shoulder (who looked an awful lot like she was going to bite his hand for it).

Did Nancy Wheeler even know about the weird academic rivalry Tiff had with her? Gareth took one look at Tiff’s gritted teeth, and thought better of it.

“I wouldn't be if I was able to properly finish that essay,” Tiff motioned to the now hopelessly crumpled paper underneath her pen, “ instead of rushing it because I had to pull someone out of a lab--”

“Nancy’s right.” Jeff cut in, in another desperate attempt to distract them all from eating each other. “I haven't seen much of Steve or Eddie today.”

He turned expectantly to his right. “Gary?”

Gareth frowned back at him.

“Why would I know where they are?”

“Oh,” Stewart said, far too innocently. “You haven’t realized you’re their assigned zookeeper?”

Wadding up his napkin was second nature. So was launching it at his friend's head, who expertly (and unfortunately) dodged.

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” Grant asked, a smile creeping across his face.

Gareth opened his jacket, fishing around for a moment as if he was searching for something, before pulling his hand back to show off his extended middle finger.

Pity he actually had the answer.

“They’re in the drama room. Steve sweettalked Mr. Barns into letting them set up early for Hellfire’s game.” He grumbled, ruining the entire effect.

“See?” Stewart said smugly.

With deliberate slowness, Gareth raised up his other middle finger before waving them both in a circle.

“Fuck you, fuck you--”

“Not in your lifetime.” Tiffany answered, to multiple chortles.

“Don’t bother them, Wheeler.” Gareth continued, ignoring the assholes he called friends to turn back to Nancy. “They’re setting up for the Hellfire’s last game of the year and Ed’s is a little…obsessive about it.”

As in he was known to be a complete and utter terror in the days leading up to his grand finales but Gareth wasn’t telling her that.

These games were a big deal for Hellfire as a whole. Precious things they looked forward to and the finale game was something they often worked several months, if not a solid year, to reach.

This year's game had more riding on it than any one prior. Hellfire’s shared sanity, for example, and a shining piece of normality they all found themselves desperately needing.

(Plus the problem of Eddie flunking again--and not telling anyone.

See--Eddie had been touchy the first time he hadn’t graduated and even with the appearance of monsters and government lackeys, Gareth expected this year to be even worse--but the Steve of it all added a rather explosive emotional element.

“You still have most of Hellfire.” Gareth had pointed out, when he’d hitched a ride home a few days prior and found the paper declaring Eddie’s super senior year a lost cause. “You know you’ll still have them after they graduate too, right?”

“Because they’re going to be looking forward to their old pal Eddie while in college, sure.” Had been the clipped response.

“They will.” Gareth said, with a level of assurance he hoped Eddie could feel. “And if that’s the concern, then you’ll definitely still have Steve.”

Who hadn’t gotten into college, and openly admitted to refusing to try now that monsters were back.

“I guess.” Eddie had said, looking like a deflated party balloon.

In typical Munson fashion, he seemed to realize he was giving away more “real feelings” than he’d intended too, and changed the subject with an energy that Gareth knew was fake.

He hadn’t called him out on it though, and equally, he had not called out the mania Eddie had slowly been succumbing to since that fateful day. He’d get over it--Gareth knew he’d get over it--if they could just make it past the point where Eddie’s own brain informed him the world was ending to prove it.)

All of them deserved a break, and a place to put aside all the stupid shit and simply have a good time, and heading off Steve’s nosey ex-girlfriend before she could cause problems would go a long way to help.

“I’m sure they can spare two minutes.” Nancy was saying, mid creation of the exact problem Gareth was hoping to avoid.

“No--uh,” He flailed about for a reason she couldn’t, and the longer she frowned at him the more his brain simply vanished all forms of higher thought. “Don’t?”

Nancy’s expression soured, mouth twisting in a line Gareth very much did not like. “I’m sure they--”

“Tell us what other things you practice. Besides, you know. The pews.” He interrupted frantically.

Under the table his foot struck out, and though he had no idea who he’d struck he hoped whoever it was understood what exactly he was trying to do.

“The pews?” Nancy echoed, after a painfully long moment.

“You know? Pews!” Gareth mimed a gun, and then made “pew” noises while firing it.

Besides him, Jeff gave a very Harrington-like sigh.

(He’d been doing that a lot lately, Gareth made a mental note to mock him for it.)

“You cannot tell me you guys only practice with guns.” Tiffany huffed. She had not been the kicked party, but thankfully, hadn’t needed the nudge to catch on. “What happens if you run out of bullets?”

Nancy gave her an odd, almost calculating look.

“We use whatever else we have on hand.” She said flatly.

Which just boded so fucking well for the rest of this conversation (and Gareth’s life, given he was uncomfortably aware of the things that went bump in the night.)

“Well, give us an example.” Tiff continued, and given the now increasingly concerned looks that the rest of Hellfire was darting between her and Nancy, Gareth knew the rest of his idiots hadn’t caught on.

On a piece of paper he scrawled--and the underlined twice, for good measure;

‘Go. Find. Byers!’

--and then chucked it at Grant’s head. Who thankfully opened it, even if he made a face while doing so, before proceeding to pass the note around as Tiff and Nancy traded increasingly pointed words about weapons training.

“When you’re in a situation, you use whatever you have on hand. I would assume you knew this, given what I heard happened the other day.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t it make more sense to train and carry with backup weapons rather than just hoping you find something on the way? What if the--what if we’d been in the woods?”

Gareth watched the note travel from person to person, until it was dropped back in front of him.

‘You go find him.’ Someone had scrawled, followed by multitudes of doodles, two of which featured army-hat wearing dicks driving tanks.

Then and there, he decided that perhaps his friends truly did deserve death should a similar situation arise in the future.

Useless. They were all useless.

“You’re welcome to make a suggestion, Tiffany.”

“I will. I’ll make a list even.”

“Good.” Nancy smiled, with all her teeth.

“Fine.” Tiff returned, looking half feral.

Was this some type of weird mating ritual between academic types? God, they were scary.

‘Well, that definitely won’t come back to bite us in the ass.’ Gareth thought wryly as Nancy stormed off in the opposite direction of the drama room, tapping the note against the table. He glanced at the rest of the group, who appeared to be attempting to tempt Tiff out of her snit by way of asking her what dramatic bullshit she thought Eddie would be pulling in the finale.

If nothing else, he decided, they’d prevented ruining Eddie’s day--and possibly, their entire night.

Nothing, save more fucking monsters or equally evil government lackeys could manage that.

(Pity that Gareth had forgotten the third most powerful force on the planet when it came to wrecking plans.

Middle schoolers.)

xXx

The day had dragged but they'd made it, and Eddie in turn, had made that wait worth their while.

The lights in the drama room were low.

The entire table had been set up with such care and drama that Gareth almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Goblets lined both sides, each filled with a dark red liquid Gareth knew damn well could not be wine.

Candles--real ones, had been lit, casting shadows across Eddie’s face as he lounged in his throne, a master in their element.

A castle, meticulously crafted out of wooden sticks and painted a dark, forbidding gray towered in front of Eddie down at the end, with the layout of the insides crawling down the table atop carefully gridded paper.

Monstrous figurines stood in a row off to the side, like little soldiers, planted right in front of a plain, if not comically large, cardboard box.

It was elaborate, meticulous, and half the items had clearly been stolen from Steve’s house, if not outright decorated by the man’s own hand.

“Welcome, my friends.” Eddie purred, breaking the spell that had fallen over Hellfire.

“Oh my God.” Grant breathed, jostling Gareth’s shoulder as he pushed inside.

“Dude, you outdid yourself!” Stewart added, voice awed as he took it all in.

“He had help.” Steve confirmed, materializing at Eddie’s shoulder. He leaned forward, adjusting something in front of Eddie, ignoring the immediate angry swat and hissed warnings about “ruining the moment, Steven!”

“Glad to see you putting your mom’s party planning skills to good use.” Jeff teased, but no one missed the way he ran a hand down the table, staring giddily at the spread.

Steve gave him a shrug, but even in the dim light Gareth could see how pleased he looked.

It was magical, and Gareth felt something come alive in his chest that he’d privately thought the manticore had killed.

A childish sort of excitement, bubbling up as he realized he was about to have a damn fine time.

This, of course, is when the actual children came in.

“I made a timeline.” Dustin announced, shouldering his way in between Jeff and Grant to slam down a massive piece of paper.

“Oh my God where did you come from!?” Stewart yelped, started as more and more children suddenly swarmed Hellfire’s table.

“The middle school is literally next door. We walked.” Max rolled her eyes as she took a seat next to Tiffany. “What idiot let you guys light candles in here?”

El fell in right next to her, stealing what was clearly intended to be Grant’s chair.

Who looked like he’s about to say something about it until he caught sight of her delighted face.

Gareth would have laughed at the obvious way Grant’s shoulders slumped as he accepted his fate, if his own chair hadn’t just been usurped by Michael Wheeler.

“A timeline?” Steve asked, before Eddie could surge to his feet and kick the brats out.

(They all watched him jerk anyway, like he’d intended to do just that and barely caught himself.)

“Uh, everything?” Dustin scoffed, waving a beat up folder in the air. “We took it all the way back to when we first met El.”

Next to him, Lucas had stepped up to the table, running a hand down it in much the same way Jeff had. “We decided it might help us figure out where the manticore came from.” He said absently.

A riot of emotion exploded over Steve’s face, made all the funnier by the fact that it was entirely at odds with the setup he’d so lovingly created.

“I’m sorry, did we not hear the Chief of Police? He’s investigating this, our involvement is over.” Steve made a slashing motion with his hand, as if that would hold them all off.

(Gareth, who once watched all of these children fight each other over an arcade score for three consecutive days, knew it was a lost cause.)

Dustin made yet another scoffing sound in return.

Given how often he seemed to make them, Gareth wondered if he had problems with a sore throat.

“I thought we all widely agreed Hop’s investigation skills are terrible.”

“Hello?” Stewart said irritably. “We were about to get started?”

Eddie swung himself into a sitting position and made like he was going to stand up, likely to pounce on the opening Stewart had just given.

Pity Steve once again, beat him there.

“Yes, but he’s not investigating, is he? We,” Hellfire’s jock made another motion, this one a circular twirl of the hand. Gareth was starting to wonder if the gestures are directly linked to his stress level. “already did that part. He can now do the part he’s good at, which is fixing it.”

“He’s not good at fixing it, look at what happened with the demodogs!”

It was at this moment Gareth made his fatal mistake. In hindsight, he should have known better than to ask out loud,

“Okay, can someone please explain what the hell’s a demodog?”

Several protests, groans, and pencils are flung his way for it.

(“Do you know how often that word has been thrown around!?” He’d defend much, much later. “You guys keep saying it but not what they are!”

“If you stopped eavesdropping all the time maybe you wouldn’t be wondering about such things.” Eddie had responded snidely.

“It’s not my fault you keep talking about this shit when I’m right there you asshat--”)

“What, you didn’t think there were actually feral dogs in Hawkins did you?” One of the kids asks incredulously, like he can’t possibly believe anyone is so stupid as to buy into it.

“They were like the manticore, but small and more, well, doggish.” Dustin dismissed, this time with a Harrington flavored hand waive of his own. “Ask Steve, he was there.”

Gareth turned to do just that, D&D campaign be damned (He would not apologize for wanting to know what else might be out to kill them all even if the finale was technically on, sue him) to find Steve had slipped right into mother hen mode.

“No.” He spat, charging forward as he flapped his arms around, like the children are a flock of birds he can scare away. “You are not sucking anyone into this, and we are not getting involved! You heard Hop!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a coward, Steve.”

“I’m not a coward, I’m someone who doesn’t need another near death experience! There’s not a reward if you have five in a row, dickheads.”

Seething and not bothering to hide it, Eddie picked up the massive gold goblet in front of him and took an obnoxiously loud sip out of it.

“I’m also going to remind you that Henderson here,” Steve stopped behind Dustin to rattle his, “is going to camp in a few days? I believe the rest of you also have similar engagements.”

It was Mike’s turn to scoff.

“Lucas is only in summer school until 3 and camp doesn’t start for another two weeks. We have plenty of time!”

“It’s not summer school,” Lucas protested, eyes darting to Max and back as if she wasn’t aware the kid was a nerd. “It’s a creative writing program--”

“Yeah, well, the rest of us are busy.” Steve fired back. “So any theories you have, you can take and shove right up your ass.”

“Why is it always the ass with you Steve? Do you have an ass fixation?”

Gareth watched as Eddie immediately choked on the dyed Mountain Dew he had been chugging down, hacking so hard tears welled in his eyes.

Jeff shared a pained look with Gareth over the table as Grant pounded him on the back.

“I do not have an ass fixation, Henderson--”

“Okay.” Tiffany clapped her hands together, the sound ringing out throughout the drama room.

“Here’s the deal. Summer break is two days away. Steve is right--most of us here are working, if not preparing to go to college. No one needs to go snooping around where we aren’t wanted, and we definitely do not need anymore injuries. Kapeesh?”

Henderson immediately turned on her. “So we’re just gonna trust the guys who fucking started all this!?”

“Given they also have better ways of handling it, yes. We are. Hopper told them about Stewarts goo, they sent some suits in to kill the manticore, and thanks to El’s heads up we caught things ahead of time for once. Can’t we just enjoy that?” Steve was beyond worked up now, repeatedly running his hands through his hair, only to fix it, pick at it, and then repeat the process again. “For fucks sake Dustin, Eddie just stopped limping!”

“I don’t think it’s over.” Mike muttered angrily, pushing a finger against Tiffany’s water bottle.

She grabbed it before it toppled over, glaring at him.

“El, do you feel anything?” Steve spoke like he was invoking a god and not an undersocialized twelve year old.

“No.” She admitted, after a long almost uncomfortable pause. “I do not.”

Steve pointed at her victoriously. “There you go!”

“But--”

“No more buts!” Steve shrieked, before seemingly to realize he’d done so. He coughed, and then said; “I thought you dorks would be storming in here trying to get Eddie to DM for you, not harassing us about the Upside Down.”

“You guys are playing D&D?” Lucas asked, as if he hadn’t been salivating over the spread for the last five minutes.

“I really like your cleric.” Will said quietly to Jeff, having leaned over to look at his character sheet at some point during the argument.

“Will, aren’t you a Dungeon Boss?” Steve asked, to the horror of those around him. “Why don’t you go sit by Eddie, I’m sure you’d enjoy seeing how he does stuff.”

A wince rippled through the members of Hellfire.

There was simply no way Eddie Munson, a man known to be possessive at best, would ever allow any of them to even glance at his notebook, let alone his entire spread laid bare behind his screen.

Those were his secrets--the result of too many late nights and an easy contributor to his failing high school yet again--and this was the grand finale.

Steve sitting next to Eddie had been miraculous enough--and that was with Eddie actively demanding he sit there, in a vain attempt to drag Steve out of his issues.

Fearing the worst, Gareth snuck a glance at their glorious--and notoriously ridiculous--leader.

Eddie sucked on his teeth, the noise painfully loud in the abrupt silence, eyes on Byers the Younger before they drifted back to Steve.

Who clearly had no idea he’d put his foot in it.

Tiff looked ready to break a pencil, eyes glaring a hole in Eddie’s head as if daring him to disappoint the group's golden retriever while Grant, Jeff and Stewart had all magically found something else to look at.

Gareth himself hunkered down, waiting to see how this would play out.

One more painful, pulsing second and then Eddie seemed to come to a decision, rolling out his hand and gesturing Will closer.

“Indeed Baby Byers,” He dropped into one of his many DM voices, something deep but alluring. “come closer and learn from the master of masters. Perhaps you’ll find something here to take back to your own campaigns. Something truly…terrible.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Dustin as Will’s Party groaned, though none of them put up much of a fuss once they saw the sheer smile that overtook Will’s face.

With the unique combination of embarrassment and pride, Will took his place next to Eddie.

Steve beamed in the corner, clearly pleased with himself and it was not lost on Gareth (or anyone else in the know) that Eddie preened only after sneaking an obvious look at Steve’s face.

“God he has it bad.” Stewart muttered, only to hiss when Jeff not so subtly jabbed him with a pen.

Gareth just shook his head, and gave Eddie a grin that said he would absolutely be getting shit for this later.

“Stevie, be a dear and fetch more chairs would you?” Eddie drawled, as he settled back into his throne, baby Byers happily checking out the items he had laid out behind his DM screen.

Which Gareth supposed was Steve’s punishment for inviting the kids along, but then, Eddie may as well have been bossing the jock around all day regardless given the look of the place.

(He’d certainly taken advantage of doing just that while his leg had been healing.)

That was their mess though, and Gareth happily put all thoughts of monsters, murder, men in black and every other awful M word aside to inside pull out his luckiest D20 die.

“Hellfire,” Eddie boomed as the all finally settled, “It's time to show the kiddies how it's done. Let’s roll!”

“And Dustin bitches at me for my puns.” Steve loudly complained as he came back into the room with chairs.

Eddie shushed him again.

[egophiliac]

LEON

LEON YOUR EYEBALLS

[jash-updates]

Most normal energy drink consumer

[kitkatsgalore]

you have my soul, you have my heart ♡

[2hoothoots]

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

[fibi-draws]

i've been really into making really high effort drawings of my favorite kpop boys because autism is one hell of a drug i will not explain myself just please take them and listen to p1harmony i promise you my obsession is justified ple a s-

also my [commisions are open] so this could be u think about it

bonus me making literal stickers to promote them like its bad over here gamers i dont even apologize

[tkbrokkoli]

cant believe that after driving the car, riding the train, booking a hotel room, having a nightmare, visiting the father in law, visiting a hospital, making a friend, and escaping an assassin, the incomprehensible Horrors™ are back at it again and harder to bear than ever 🐻

[dallonwrites]

actually making my tags from my last post into their own post. writers who struggle with grammar, spelling, typos, errors etc i love you. writers who struggle with rereading their stuff thoroughly no matter how much they try, who don't always have access to other people to help them read i love you. whilst reading through and checking for these things is good practice i really believe that the weight of it should not be put wholly on the writer's shoulders. especially writers who are neurodivergent, disabled, have any condition that can impede their reading + comprehension, are overworked and overtired, are not writing in their native language, list goes on....because grammar mistakes/language mistakes/typos have nothing to do with your abilities as a creative. this is where editors should be uplifting writers, helping them, not scrutinising them for something they cannot always control

[thegreatyin]

completely normal roommates bonding over completely normal things like *flips through notes* murdering each other and having complicated opinions on giant alien bats

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

All the stock images of the 10th Doctor are. Silly. Like geniune white-backdrop, doing some random pose or expression stock images. Like not "this is the picture png stock image that gets slapped on his wiki and other places" but like the if you Google "stock images of people" it's just that. Except him.

[blindedguilt-archived]

Drakengard Cut Content Found - Leonard's intro scene

//So not too long ago, some cut Drakengard content was found and posted to the Drakengard subreddit by u/drakengarded (Their profile is linked under their user), it was a short cut clip from Leonard's intro scene! I immediately knew I had to share it with everyone here, so I asked them and they gave me permission to share the clip they made! They said they might be able to get back to me with a better clip, but as I see it, this is perfect as it is.

//In the original, when Leonard brings the knife up to his throat, the screen quickly cuts back to him collapsing to his hands and knees, unable to take his own life. But in the cut version, the tip of the knife is seen barely entering his throat before he falls, providing a clearer look into just how close he was before caving into his fear of death!! The aspect ratio is slightly changed to show the difference of the original scene from the cut content.

//Waaaaaa I'm really thankful to u/Drakengarded for sharing this huge discovery!! If anything, thankful wouldn't even begin to describe how I feel <3 I've been watching this nonstop, and have picked work back up on several projects specifically because of the inspiration this has given me!! I hope everyone else has found it as interesting as I have, and thanks so much to u/Drakengarded again for allowing me to share this with everyone here!! I'm so happy <3