#sometimes i remember that bastard exists and it’s over for me

[bethiewhimsy]

can’t believe i’m experiencing “i cant watch anything because nothing else will be as good as this” over BRYCE a show by brandon rogers.

[rowarn]

shadow entity!ghost part: one | two | three

cw: angry!ghost, umm he hurts u )-:, but he feels bad so it's okay, a bit shorter than other parts

the mystery surrounding ghost was driving you insane. living with a primordial entity of unfathomable horrors was already a mindfuck but now you realized it could just...erase people from existence.

no one had asked about phillip, no one had shown up to seek you out since you were the last one to see him before he vanished. you even wandered into the bar he said he frequented -- and he seemed well known in. and...nothing. no one even brought up how he went home with you and never returned. no one asked about him.

it was unnerving. had ghost somehow pulled all memory of this one human out of the world along with its physical form? where did phillip even go? all you remember was being surrounded by the shadow and how hard it was to breathe -- and the horrible, inhuman scream before silence.

it had already confirmed that it wasn't a ghost. so what was it?

"ghost?" you called into the house as you returned from the bar, "can you come out so we can talk?"

as you stepped into the living room, you took a glance at the scorch mark on the floor before your attention was diverted to it -- a shadowy manifestation across from you.

it didn't speak, simply stood there. usually you would divert your eyes from its face because something about it unsettled you, but this time you stared right at it. shapes formed and faded before your eyes, making you wonder if you were really seeing them in the first place. eyes, sometimes two sometimes dozens. a vague, fading silhouette of a skull face. you wonder if it intentionally let you see these images or if it just was.

"i-i want to know..." you swallow thickly around the nervous lump in your throat, "is phillip dead?"

it was quiet for a moment, "not quite."

"what's that mean? where is he?" you prod, furrowing your brows as you stare at it, hoping that it can understand your pleading.

"why do you care?"

"b-because..." you sputtered, licking your dry lips, "i just...want to know."

"he's in the pits," it finally supplies, sounding almost bored.

"...of hell?" you sputter, "so you're a demon?"

"your hell is a bastardization of the pits," it explains, "where i come from is not hell. it's worse, darker. that's where i put the human."

"can you...can you bring him back..?" you whisper.

ghost's shadow flickers and it falls silent for a moment before speaking again, "i could. but you don't want that."

you can't help but think you'll regret asking but you do anyway, "...why?"

"he's not the same anymore," it explains, "it's much kinder to simply leave him in the pits."

you're not sure how to take that. it doesn't answer any of your questions. what exactly are the pits? what happens in them? what is happening to phillip down there?

"ghost..." you take a small step back and you swear you see it's head cock to the side curiously, "what are you?"

"you can consider me a demon if you wish," it responded, taking a step forward to follow you.

your heart skips a beat, "but you're not."

"no," it answers with ease.

"so tell me what you are," you demand, growing tired of these mind games it's playing with you.

"i don't think your human mind can comprehend just what i am," it says.

"try me," you challenge, already mentally slapping yourself.

"no," it responds.

your temper flares, "just tell me, damn you! what the hell are you?"

suddenly, the shadow grows in size -- as do your eyes. you watch as it takes up more space in the room, that overpowering weight on your body making you wince. it makes the room feel so heavy, makes your bones ache to the marrow.

you're not sure how you know -- despite the fact it's not saying anything; you know you've made it very angry. your eyes lock onto his shadowy form, making out the horrible, unsettling images of eyeballs inside the darkness that flicker in and out of your vision.

nausea settles like a pit in your stomach and you double over, dropping to your hands and your knees to keep yourself from throwing up. your head throbs and aches, a ringing in your ears only makes the pain worse. it feels like your eyes are going to pop out of their sockets from the overwhelming pressure growing inside your skull.

"s-stop..." you manage to choke out before you slump against the floor.

then, all at once it's gone. you gasp for air once it finally feels like there's nothing coiling around your lungs and tears trickle down your cheeks. you're not sure if you're trembling from the pain or from the fear you just experienced.

you can't bring yourself to uncurl yourself from the ball you've found yourself in on the floor.

you're acutely aware that ghost hasn't left -- in fact, you can hear it's heavy footsteps on the creaky wooden floor as it approaches you. it kneels down, disturbing the air around you with the movement.

you feel a strange weight on your head and it takes your foggy mind a moment to realize that it's touching you. as if it had reached a hand out and was tenderly petting your head, consoling you.

a silent apology before it vanishes completely.

when you finally uncurl and look around, you see yet another strange, scorch mark on the ground where it had stood.

you realize instantly that those scorch marks are a manifestation of it's anger. pure, unbridled rage that leaves a physical mark on the ground where it stands.

you swallow thickly and close your eyes again, deciding that standing is much too hard for now.

do not repost to third party sites. reblogs okay!

[i-cant-sing]

Veiled princess reader and yandere Knight Dabi, sitting on their balcony, wrapped in each others arms as they stare at the moon above them. Your head is on Dabi's chest, your veil cast aside now that you're alone with your husband. Dabi is rubbing your forearms slowly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked. Your eyes met his as you smiled.

He's always able to read your mind.

"Do you believe in God?" You aksed cautiously. Religion was always a sensitive topic for most people.

Dabi exhaled as he pondered over the question. "I didn't used to. I was taught religion as a child, but I never really believed in it. Why would God make me be a "bastard"? But then-" He looked at you. "I met you. And I knew instantly, God existed. There is no chance, no fate, no coincidence that could've made our paths cross. It must be something supernatural for us to meet. And when you took off your veil, I knew only God could've made such perfection. For there is no way, the universe just spontaneously made you. Something Divine must've taken their time to craft you, perfect you, mould you into a little piece of heaven and then for us to be together? Only He could have such power and plans."

He wiped the stray tear from your eye. "I won't say I'm always religious though. I try to remember God as often as I could, but sometimes I get entangled in worldly affairs. Then I'd take one look at you, and I'd remember Him, for He was the one who was benevolent enough to give you to me. Even when I was astray, even when I was sinful, he blessed me with you."

"Dabi~" you whispered. He smiled and kissed your eyes.

"I am ungrateful to Him sometimes. When I don't win the battles, when I don't conquer some land because of traitors, I complain to Him, blame Him when things don't go my way. But everytime I lay my head in your lap and look at your face, I realise how He has already given me paradise in this life alone. I don't need to conquer lands or win gems, for I have the "envy of the Moon" right in my arms." He said as he kissed you, your cheeks wet with your tears.

"I may not get into heaven because of my past sins, my love, but I am forever in His debt for granting me a little piece of heaven on Earth."

[doesthendnlive]

I'm so tired. Sorry for bad grammar or mistakes.

TW for rape/pedophilia/slavery/domestic violence/violence against Indigenous women and girls specifically

It makes me so angry we Sacagawea and "Pocahontas" are known our figure head Native "Women". If you want to go a litter further the fact that "La Malinche" is idolized as well in the same way. But we don't learn about their actual lives.

Why are public schools obessed with these pedophilic relationships between Native girls and old gross ass white males as "The country coming together" or a "unity between 'Indians' and whites'" or "the creation of our mestizo race" or whatever else.

Sacagewa was only 12 when her "husband" bought her, and 16 when he impregnated her. I didn't learn this until I looked it up and searched for it myself.

"Charbonneau was also known for his short temper with his wives. On August 14, 1805, Charbonneau struck Sacagawea during a domestic argument, and was told to stop by Clark. This one incident has led to Charbonneau's reputation as a "wife beater," although it was the only time during the expedition that this type of behavior was noted. Coupled with the rape incident described above, however, Charbonneau seems to have been a sometimes violent person with little regard for women Native girls . His consistent record of marrying Native girls under age 16 also makes one wonder about a possible need to exhibit power over women Native girls

Charbonneau is known to have had a total of five wives, all young Native American women girls whom he married when they were sixteen years old or younger. He may have had more wives who have been lost to the record, however. His last known wife, an Assiniboine girl, was 14 when she married him in 1837; he was more than 70 years old."

Matoaka was even younger if I remember right, the bastardization of her real life story and the fetishization of her story and Native women and girls beause apparently we're all from her people. The fact the "Pocahontas" even exists, the disregard for her actual story and scraping details out to make it more palatable.

Despite the fact the she didn't get to have palatable, she had to endure violence, forced removal, rape, and forced impregnation by her rapist(s). She didn't get to have that comfort or safety but everyone else gets to when 'learning' about her.

"La Malinche" or "Malintzin" (we literally don't know her birth name) was around 11-16 years of age when she ended up on the hands of Spaniards

What makes it worse in regards of "Malintzin" is that Hispanic Males fetishize the "Mestizo race" and the rape of Indigenous women and girls especially to create this race.

They only claim their Indigenous decent when it benefits them, while they are still actively anti Indigenous themselves and hate actual indigenous peoples/communities.

Argentina specifically, it's called chineo, criollo males are known for targeting Indigenous women and girls to rape/gangrape them. It's a old colonial practice that still happens to this day.

Im just so angry that our figure Indigenous "women" are just these little girls adultified into these grown women just to make people less uncomfortable with the power dynamic imbalance and pedophilic relationships and colonialism and colonization in general

Racist white males (Spanish, English, French, whatever flavour of white idc) love this idea of conquering Indigenous women and raping them. I heard way too many gross comments from old white males with rapey undertones to them about them being white and me being a Indigenous girl.

Or even them mocking the sexual violence we face, one of my ex white male friends mocked me for being abused when we got into a argument not related to it at all he also was more and more racist to me as time went on.

In both of the Americas Indigenous people, but especially Indigenous Women and girls aren't safe. It's scary how much violence is forced onto us and how these figure head "Women" are watered down into comfortability for the general public.

The violence we face is pretty much the same in the Americas, and its scary to know we are stuck in places that hate us despite being on our lands in the first place.

all of this but THIS PART ESPECIALLY:

[jacenbren]

My Saiki K headcanons because I can’t think of any other ways to satisfy my hyperfixation rn:

Nendou is fully aware that Saiki has psychic powers but it never crossed his mind that that was weird

Kaidou fucking LOVES magic: the gathering and has one of those books full of cards

He also loves digimon. Aren is a devout pokemon enjoyer. yes they are constantly at each others throats trying to insist that their favorite is better

It took much convincing, but the rest of the gang managed to convince Saiki to join their weekly D&D sessions. Saiki whines and complains every time they drag him there. he then proceeds to have the time of his life every session without fail

Aiura was one of those girls who had a shit ton of Barbie dolls as a kid and sometimes she and Toritsuka get together to play with them (aka act out horrific and violent soap opera scenarios that every child who owned Barbie dolls concocted)

Mera and Nendou bond over their mutual love of food and watch food network cooking contests with the enthusiasm of white suburban dads watching the Superbowl

Nendou regularly picks Saiki up like a sack of potatoes to hug him. Saiki will never admit in a million years that he absolutely loves it

Teruhashi saw that Saiki barely acknowledges her existence and had a realization of “oh wow he isn’t obsessed with me simply because of my looks and treats me like a person rather than some unattainable object of desire I want to spend more time with him because he doesn’t superficially adore me” but she misinterpreted it as a crush and is EXTREMELY confused

Akechi & Saiki = adhd/autistic besties

Nendou & Saiki = also adhd/autistic besties but in like a queerplatonic way????

Saiki won’t admit it but he likes hanging out with Akechi because the guy does all the talking for him and all he has to do is listen

Saiki secretly really likes Hairo because his internal monologue is pretty much the same as how he presents himself to others (Saiki finds Hairo’s sincerity oddly comforting)

Saiki also finds it oddly comforting that he can’t read Nendou’s mind because when spending time alone with him Saiki isn’t constantly bombarded by an internal monologue

Aiura and Saiki casually bully Toritsuka on the regular

“Just get a boyfriend arent you bi” “damn Toritsuka nobody wants you fr”

Kaidou can’t whistle. Aren constantly teases him about it. Kaidou will then attempt to climb his body like a tree and strangle him.

Aiura is a stoner

Saiki is very much affected by weed

Saiki + Aiura’s “special” coffee brownies she made one day and put in the fridge not remembering that Saiki is an utter bastard when it comes to stealing other peoples snacks = utter chaos

Saiko secretly really wants friends but due to his upbringing he doesn’t know how to act around people in lower tax brackets

Saiki sometimes sits next to him at lunch out of pity

Nendou learned how to make coffee jelly after finding out that Saiki loves it

Every year for Saiki’s birthday the gang throws him a surprise party (Saiki is never surprised because of his powers but he’s always so touched by the gesture that he can’t help but play along)

[tanix-dragon]

To Be the Dragon: Living as Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii

For many years now (about 6!), I've been in the alterhuman community, thinking about how I want to write about my dragon kintype. I’ve never written much, though, despite being fairly comfortable doing so. This isn’t out of lack of things to talk about—it’s more because I have such a basic run-of-the-mill spiritual dragon kintype (in my mind) that I wasn’t sure that writing about it would do anything for anyone. Besides, it’s all so normal to me. It’s hard to write about your life when it feels so utterly mundane that to pick each piece out of it feels ridiculous. I have a dozen concepts for essays in my Tumblr drafts, but in the end, I’ve just decided to write something big. I’m going to go through it all, all I can think of, because I don’t know if I can pull it apart enough to write about each piece separately. It’s all so intertwined that it’s just easier to write a big one.

Strap in. This is going to take awhile. I’m a wordy bastard and despite how little I actually go into it, I do know a lot about this kintype.

Awakening

This is where most people start, and I’m sorry to disappoint; this is a short one. When I was a kid, I loved dinosaurs, and when I discovered dragons, and I mean really discovered them, realized how cool they are, I felt some kind of deep resonance. As a kid, I figured that it was just because they were the coolest thing of all time. In reality, this awakened phantom limbs (I think? Or just strengthened them. I don’t really remember very well; “I” as I’m known didn’t quite exist at the time, system stuff, you understand) and set me on a path of self-discovery and overwhelming draconity. I was known as the “crazy dragon kid” at school, even for years after I stopped talking about them, and I’ve always been very recognizable, even at a distance, even for people that barely know me, because I “move differently.” A friend once told me that I move like someone put a lizard or a bird in a human’s body, that I have a dragon’s walk cycle, that I have the wrong animation set for my skeleton. That was a very nice thing to be told.

I don’t know. I spent a lot of years with constant phantom limbs and sort of figured that they were normal, more or less? I didn’t think about them. They were just a part of me. Only once I tripped over a dragonkin’s blog completely accidentally in early 2018 did I start putting pieces together, and then it hit me like lightning: oh. I’m a dragon. I’m actually a dragon. And I’m not alone. I started my Tumblr kin blog and that was that. No questioning, no kinsidering, no “am I really?”--I had known that the thing was dragon, but I hadn’t known how it applied to me, and the second I did, I knew it was right. I am a dragon, and that was that.

I’d wondered off and on for a while if someone could have a past life as a dragon, but had never mentioned it to anyone (at least as far as I remember), because I was worried about the response I’d get. Once I realized that I was otherkin, though, I embraced that wholeheartedly: I had been a dragon, and that had rolled over so powerfully that I still am a dragon. It fits, and I love it.

What’s it like?

“What’s it like being a dragon?” my non-kin friends ask me sometimes. It’s kind of almost exactly the same as being not a dragon, except my mental image of myself is a big blue dragon instead of a human. Chronic pain flaring up? Dragon curled up and complaining about it. OCD lashing out? Dragon resting head against the wall with shut eyes and half-bared teeth. Someone annoying me? Dragon with exposed teeth and fangs all puffed up to try to make them back down.

My dragon body maps onto my human body to produce feeling like an anthro dragon most of the time, even though my dragonself isn’t even bipedal. It’s the happy medium my brain can settle on between what I feel I should be and my physical reality, although, again, mentally, most of the time when I imagine myself, I’m as I should be. In headspace where my headmates can see me, I’m quadrupedal unless I’m doing something that requires me to be bipedal. (Our headspace is pretty flexible, don’t worry about it.) All of this evens out to me moving kind of oddly—toss in how stiff and sore I am all the time (it’s some kind of unknown but disabling condition, hooray), and you get someone who moves very oddly. I turn my head like there’s significantly more weight to it than there should be, I visibly squeeze through spaces that are plenty big enough for me as if trying to accommodate great wings, I walk with a slight adjustment to my hips to compensate for a heavy tail, and I lift my shoulders to flare or gesture with my wings. I have slight head movements that correspond to how I move my ear fins, expressions that call for me to bare my teeth, gestures that only make sense with wings, tail, and claws, and a dozen other little things I probably don’t even notice that I do.

I don’t get a lot of species dysphoria anymore. I’d prefer to be able to switch in and out of dragon form (ideally with that anthro dragon that my brain has invented for me as an option too! I do love it as a middle ground), but I can make do as-is. I spent untold centuries as a dragon, I can handle some decades as a human. I’m here now, and I have a different life to live, and frankly, I love humans. I love the things they do, the cultures they have, the things they make, the ways they act, and I feel really lucky that I get to be in one of those human cultures and witness others. I have a minor in anthropology—I promise I’m not about to become a misanthrope anytime soon. I believe that humans are inherently creatures like any other, and can be driven to great good or great evil. I don’t believe that’s a reason to hate them, and besides, some part of me identifies as human as well as my kintypes. Not everyone does, but I do, and it’s comfortable for me.

I do have a few draconic instincts I have to juggle, but none are terribly maladaptive or troublesome. I know exactly how to breathe fire and want to when angry or struggling to keep a fire going in winter, and I know that there’s something in my chest and something else in my throat that are missing, structures that allow firebreathing, but I have phantoms and can mimic it okay, so I can huff and puff and burn nothing down. I have a prey drive that kicks in hard watching squirrels or, worse, rabbits out of my window, but I don’t ever actually chase anything (not that my slow ass could catch anything even if I did). I want to sharpen my claws, curl up in the sun, growl and threat-display with my wings (and do flare my phantoms when I’m in the car and another vehicle does something I don’t like), and a bunch of other small things I can’t think of right now. Again, it doesn’t bother me—it’s just affirmations of my draconity, and most are subtle enough that I can do them in front of people and they don’t notice, or, if they do, they don’t think much of it. 

What’s it like? What a question. What else do I say? Sometimes my chronic back pain reaches into my rhomboid muscles, which is where my phantom wings connect, so it registers as wing pain, I guess. That doesn’t usually happen, but it can. I walk on my toes a lot because I naturally want to move digitigrade. Shocker, I know. I don’t know—what’s it like being a dragon? What’s it like being human, or anything else? What’s it like to be who and what you are?

The Dragon Driik’lor

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii. Tanix of Fire and Breath. What a name—and one I have known parts of for a long, long time. As a kid, I’d sign off messages and emails as Tanadin of Fire and Air. When choosing a name for myself when I came out as trans (Tanix), I knew that I wanted something with the nickname ‘Tan’ still, derived originally from my username “Tanadin,” because it felt right. Was my name truly Tanix? I don’t know. It feels right, or at least, right enough. I swapped out “air” for “breath” because Tanix lei Dramon ak Voron didn’t feel as right. I guess the question is—who is, or was, this Tanix, and what language is that?

(I'll occasionally be referring to my dragonself as Tanix and myself as… me, I guess. I know, I’m sorry, that’s confusing, but that’s driiv name as far as I know, and calling driik anything else feels weird.)

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was a mature adult dragon of a sapient and extremely intelligent species with its own language. My noemata have provided me with pieces of this language—individual words and ideas on its structure, some suffixes, some sounds and pieces of what a sentence should sound like. A few letters, even, for the written version. For the past fourteen or so years, I have worked on uncovering as much of this language (that, as a kid, I called Dranonic, and I haven’t changed that) as I can, and have made up much of the rest. I will never reconstruct an entire language from noemata alone, and I know that, so I just do what doesn’t feel wrong and change things if I get an inkling that I’m off somewhere.

Tanix’s species had some extremely complex social rules and dances that driit largely didn’t do much with. Dragons could be either solitary or live in clans, and driit was pretty solitary. Driit was also fucking annoying. Sorry, but it’s true—Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was a pretentious, self-centered, prideful, overconfident bastard that had other dragons going “oh gods here comes Tanix again, just smile and wave.” Driit was a bulky, powerful, physically imposing dragon, and driit knew it. (In this human life, my family is actually fairly dense and stout despite being quite tall, so that’s free species euphoria.) As far as I can tell, given driiv five horns and larger stature, driit was female. (I talk about horn count and dragon gender more in my essay Counting Horns and Making Assumptions, or, Draconic Age and Gender, if you’re interested.) However, pronouns in Dranonic are based on age category, not gender, so the fact that Tanix and driiv mate have different pronouns is because of a difference in age, not gender.

Oh, Selkhenar. Selkhenar of the Darkened Swamp. I wish I knew more about you. Muut seems to be the only dragon that Tanix wasn’t a huge bitch to—and let me tell you something. Driit was vain as fuck. My dragon instincts know what driit did and did not find attractive in a dragon, and Selkhenar was considered, in that society, to be a kind of dumpy little green and black swamp beast with a weirdly long face, short ass legs, and kind of weird proportions.

And driit loved muut more than anything. Every time I think about Selkhenar, I get holdover fuzzies and butterflies from my time as the dragon the first go-around, and man, driit was gone for this swamp dragon. I have flashes of memory of much more impressive-looking dragons trying to woo driik and getting passed up, but accidentally tripping over Selkhenar in the swamp just beyond the edge of driiv territory was apparently what driik needed.

They had at least one clutch of eggs together. I remember guarding them ferociously, even growling at Selkhenar once before recognizing muuk. I remember them hatching into the cutest little whelplings of all time, and I remember them being a mix of blue and green and red and black. I remember teaching them to fly, throwing them over the ledge outside of the cave and off the cliff. Selkhenar was below, ready to catch if they didn’t figure it out, but still, uh, not the strategy I would recommend, necessarily. I remember hunting for them, both land animals and skimming the lake outside of our cave, down in the evergreens at the base of the mountain, for fish, even though… Selkhenar was a water dragon and therefore better suited to fishing…. I think it was a pride thing. Tanix was a ferociously prideful dragon and I suspect driit was like NO, MY LOVE, I WILL HUNT FOR YOU, YOU TINY THING… YOU GUARD THE BABIES WHILE I PROVIDE FOR YOU…. and then proceeded to accidentally driik’lor (Dranonic for him/her/themself) into the water. Repeatedly. Over and over. I have very firm noemata of hunting fish, eating fish, and fucking up while hunting fish and fouling my wings and falling into the lake. I was an okay swimmer and was mostly just glad that no one saw, but like… come on. Let the swamp dragon do it. I mean, I’m sure muut did, but I don’t have memories of that.

What’d This Dragon Look Like, Anyway?

Good question! That’s something I have the firmest grasp on. I’ve been drawing this dragon for as long as I’ve been super aware of dragons, and driit has been through a lot of iterations, but I think I’m very close.

Tanix lei Dramon ak Hyuukii was approximately fifty feet long from nose to tailtip. Driit was a deep, intense blue (take a peek at any art I’ve ever done of driik/myself) with bright red stripes along driiv midline—basically, along the spine, down the tail, and along the face. The stripes also appeared on driiv legs and maybe wings, but I’m not sure about that one. Driit had five horns that were either darker blue or slightly purple that curved slightly back and were slightly offset from one another, with each set being slightly smaller than the last and a bit further back, with the single horn being the smallest and furthest back. Driit also had a single nose spike that matched the horns. Driit had big (kind of disproportionately big) ear fins, a more recent discovery of mine and out of date on most of my art, used for communication and showing of mood, mostly. Driiv “hands” had three fingers and a thumb, driiv back feet had three toes and a dewclaw, and driiv wings had four “fingers” with membrane stretched between them and a fifth “finger” that seemed to serve little to no purpose. This wing membrane connected pretty low down on the body (near or on the tail), providing a large area for lift. I believe this membrane was a lighter color than the scales around it, and I have the distinct feeling that I could flush blood into it to make it change color—red, I think? Maybe it was just some markings that could appear. I’m not sure.

Along driiv back were spikes or spines, of a similar color to the horns, lined up perfectly with the stripes. I know that driit had some kind of dangerous weapon on the dip of driiv tail, and I know that this thing had three sharp points, but its exact shape and color, I’m less sure on. I know that the tail itself was fairly flexible, especially near the tip, but was most assuredly a powerful weapon when needed. Driiv belly was lightly plated, providing protection for the vital organs. Driit also, of course, had sharp teeth and a forked tongue, although two of driiv teeth were elongated and poked slightly out of the mouth when shut, which I tend to call driiv fangs.

The Binding

Back in August of 2023, I tripped over an image that made dragonbrain click on and triggered a fear response as well as a flood of noemata. The post I wrote at the time of that discovery is here, but I’ll write it out in a more comprehensible format, both for your convenience and so that I have a more organized version in general.

Some kind of humanoid species (not humans) on my planet found and trapped me when I was quite young, and dragged me to a structure not dissimilar to the image I found, not far from or in one of their cities. My limbs and jaws were chained so that I couldn’t fight or escape, and I so clearly remember feeling my claws and scales scrape over that rough, coarse stone, and the sound of the chains dragging across it. Some of the humanoids rode other dragons, who were clearly enslaved and, in many ways, broken. They had no choice but to obey, or face punishment. Their eyes were dull and they passed over me without registering me, because to acknowledge that such a young dragon was facing their same fate was, I imagine, too painful.

For the record, I was so young that I thought I might be able to carry one of these humanoids, maybe, and not all of my red markings had come in yet. I was very young.

For some reason or another—maybe I was misbehaving, maybe this was protocol with all new dragons, I don’t know—they dragged me to a dungeon underneath a great arena where they made some dragons that they figured they could never turn into mounts fight for their amusement. I was chained up down there, fairly tightly, barely fed and barely able to move. There were a couple of other dragons down there with me, in the dark and the damp, curled up on those horrible stone bricks just like I was. I could barely see them, it was so dark, but they could see me, their eyes more adjusted due to years or decades down here.

My primary companion was a dull red dragon, an adult male, as far as I can figure. I don’t remember muuv name, but it started with an Ez- or an El- with a z in there somewhere, and ended in -iel or something along those lines. Elaziel, Ezkhaliel, Ezkerial, Elzariel? I don’t remember. I wish I did. I remember muut being as reassuring as muut could be, trying to do muuv best for this poor scared youngling. Muut was beaten and broken but incapable of either fighting or being a mount—one or more of muuv limbs were gone or broken and healed incorrectly. Muut couldn’t fly and I think muut struggled to walk. I don’t know why the humanoids kept muut alive, but I do know that I reinvigorated muuk, and muut decided to do whatever muut could to get me out.

I don’t remember what happened, really. All I know is that, at some point, there was an escape, and multiple dragons made it out, or at least tried to. I remember the red dragon shouting “Mor anor axid, mor anor axid! Mor anor axid veran!”, which is Dranonic for “Let them fly, let them fly! Let them fly away!” with “anor” being distinctly plural—you would never call a single dragon “anor,” indicating that there were multiple dragons trying to get away. I know muut wasn’t among them—muut would never make it out, and I’m sure that the humanoids killed him after. I never looked back. I never saw.

I know that there was a light green dragon involved in all that, a female, I think. Muut was chained down there with myself and the red dragon, and maybe others. Maybe muut was the other one in “anor.” I don’t know. I don’t remember much about muut.

I do remember part of the escape—the red dragon’s shouted pleas, the hesitation of the dragon mounts, the sting of the dragonbone arrows fired from the humanoids that pierced my scales (because of course they harvested the bodies of their spent slaves, why wouldn’t they, the bastards), the screaming of my underused wing muscles as I tore out of that place and never looked back, not once.

I never returned. Not even as an adult, not even once my fifth horn came in. I flew far, far away, and never drew closer again. I never wanted to see that place, never wanted to fear it, never wanted to risk it. My two fears as a dragon were that place and the ocean, and the second, I feel, had some kind of horrible dragon-slaughtering beast in it that was a long, instinctive, genetic terror. That horrible place beat it out by miles.

A Couple Other Memories

I remember other things, too, not just that whole… sequence, or what I talked about before. I know that there were some kind of “dragon mimics” out there, some kind of insectoid things that looked like dragons at a distance but revealed what they were close up. They’d either do displays intended to anger a dragon and draw them close, or courtship displays to interest a dragon. Either way, once a dragon was close enough for the mimic to strike, it was too late. A lot of insectoid dragon designs set off my dragonbrain’s “mimic alarm,” and it’s kind of interesting to play with and see what triggers it and what doesn’t. I’m sure I had personal experience with them—I have too clear of a mental image of one trying to lure me in for anything else—but I don’t know the specifics.

One of the memories that I’ve had, crystal clear, for a long time, is my death. I was falling from a great height, wings too damaged to hold me, uselessly streaming behind me as I fell. Selkhenar flew down with me in a panic, knowing muut could never catch me (I was far bigger than muuk), trying to talk me into getting my wings sorted out and at least slowing my fall or something. I remember there being wounds all over me—I’d been losing some great, horrible battle—and peering at Selkhenar, thinking it was very sweet of muuk to be so worried about me but I was clearly lost, muut needed to get out of here—and then a sharp pain at the base of my skull, where it connects to my spine, and nothing. I feel like it was some sort of projectile, well-aimed, that took me out instantly.

I’m still afraid of heights without my wings.

Wrap-Up

There’s more, I’m sure. More specific essays that I feel like I can write now that I’ve gotten most of it down. I could write an essay on draconic courtship, or what little I know of rearing offspring, or whatever else comes to mind. For now, though—that’s most of it. That’s The Everything. I’ve been meaning to put this together for a long time, and now I have, and I hope it’s helpful to someone—either in understanding me, or in understanding yourself. I know that, when you’re questioning something, reading about someone else’s experiences helps a lot. I’ve never felt like talking about my dragon kintype was ever going to be terribly helpful in that regard—after all, there’s a dozen other similar essays out there—but I decided, well, it’s not for other people. It’s for me. And no one’s written four thousand words detailing my kintype before.

That’s the thing about writing like this. It’s for you, and if it helps someone else, that’s just a bonus. Write what will help you, what will let you figure yourself out and document it so that, if it changes, you can pinpoint when that was and track your own growth and change. I wonder what, in a few years, will be inaccurate in this essay? I wonder what I will add, what I will change, in a theoretical future version?

I guess we’ll find out together. Thanks for reading.

[ac-liveblogs]

Munchen Bastard vs Manshine City: The Finale

This panel is inexplicably hilarious to me. Isagi reflects so calmly on that batshit match like he and Kaiser were being completely normal and reasonable. That was an average match. Nothing to see or comment on there.

Is it still a technical foul if the one you're assaulting is on your own team? Anyway.

...god, I want to see what Blue Lock TV has to say about that one. You know it's wild when Nagi and Reo go full uh... Nagi and Reo, and they're still not the biggest trainwreck ('most interesting') of a duo on the field.

Ego talking about Nagi's goal as a one-hit wonder is interesting, because I think he's right that Nagi will never be able to replicate it. Nagi could barely keep that same energy going for the match he was already in, let alone another one. Nagi, whose only real faults read as 'just less experienced than everyone else', seems to finally be getting a real flaw he'll have to work on - motivation. Which is interesting, right, given his motivation is supposed to be getting the world cup with Reo - but that's not a big enough driver to keep him really going? Episode Nagi's reframing of events seems mildly contradictory in that way. Guess we'll see how it goes.

Suddenly, Yukimiya. You know a guy is screwed when he starts saying shit like "god never gives you more than you can handle!" He can pretend he's gonna be a player all he wants, I don't think he's coming back in any major capacity.

Oh yeah, speaking of Isagi blasting past people regardless of their sad backstories, Sae is inevitably going to be Isagi's midfielder later, right? Because screw Rin, right? That's awesome, I can't wait.

I don't know much about soccer, but as a 'playmaker' who is very good at strategic passing, would Isagi be better off as a midfielder like Sae? Is that a criminal thing to say. I'm sorry. Isagi's just really bad at actually scoring goals lately. Maybe he should refocus. Since he apparently thinks he doesn't need any special moves to get one over on Kaiser, he might want to build the skillset he definitely already has. (amazed at Isagi's hyper-confident bullshit).

Kaiser just like. Ruined a goal. For his own teammate. Is that legal? Should it be illegal? Obviously this shit can only happen in Blue Lock but is it REALLY something sponsors are gonna like like. 'oh yeah that's a good team player that guy he'll work really well in a team', REALLY?

I guess teams only seem to consist of like max. four relevant people at any one time so what does it matter... the author only sometimes remembers Chigiri and Kunigami are around... particularly insulting for Kunigami all things considered.

Actually, it'd be so cool if Kira reappears after Wild Card as a final joker card boss or something. I'd love that. Please do that. I'll be sad if that doesn't happen now.

Just once, I want to see these jackasses go up against a really competent goalie. I want Kaiser Impact stopped dead. Just once. Please.

For real though, it does make their soccer feel pretty 'incomplete' that other players like that aren't really accounted for. These guys don't feel like they're training to go up against really competent defense or anything. Maybe the author just doesn't think it exists. I don't know.

Backstory: I played soccer for two years in primary school, and the first year I was defense. Our forwards were so competent the ball very rarely came anywhere near us, so I didn't have to be good or anything. It's not like I could do much if it did. So my soccer experience is entirely consistent with Blue Lock, but that doesn't mean I have to like it! Why are these pro athletes on the same level as me at age 10!

Ness is so funny. I want to see his Kaiser stan account's deranged blogging of the entire Blue Lock experience.

I love that Isagi thought so hard he passed out. "Metavision" is so funny.

One, why is Noa's bedroom some sci-fi alien ship. Two, why was Isagi taken THERE when he passed out. Did Ego just like. Not fund an infirmary? Is that where Blue Lock cut costs? I'd buy it.

Noa's just watching his team burn with a completely impassive face. Man he does not give a SHIT, I bet he's loving Kaiser getting assaulted by some random high schooler.

The idea that Ego ever actually played soccer is bonkers to me. Like, it makes perfect sense. But I don't buy it. Seeing that guy in soccer shorts will actually make my brain melt out my ears.

But of course Blue Lock, designed to attract/produce guys that are not even remotely normal about each other, was founded by a guy that is also not normal about another dude. Phenomenal stuff.

Bastard Munchen's sponsors watching Isagi and Kaiser brutalise each other on the field like "yeah we want that all the time actually"

I expected Shidou to rank much higher given his U-20 showing. How is he so much lower than Rin? Does Rin just knock him unconscious before every match?

If I were told I had the same worth as Ness I think I'd kill myself.

LET'S GO BAROUUUUUU

[stellisketches]

why? please explain the soldier, port, king in excruciating detail PLEASE

EDIT: ITS FINALLY DONE i'm so sorry this took me like six months I got really busy with school work and I wanted to make sure I wasn't half-assing this anyway thank you for asking please enjoy

For reference I will be quoting the “Poet Soldier King” test on uQuiz as I feel they summarize each role most succinctly.

"You wonder, sometimes, if anger is the only thing you can feel. Remember: love is passion too. You made your own rules and will follow them to death. You try and forget that there is only one rule, and that it is "FIGHT". You are tired of fighting. You try to forget that, too, and keep going. You dream of quiet. Your love is where you heal." -Soldier

It's a subtle element but Vylad’s entire character/existence is about enduring conflict. It's an easy thing to forget due to his calm demeanor, but Vylad has been fighting since the moment he was born (hell, even before). Fighting the ill-contrived gossip of being a bastard son, fighting to prove himself a genuine Ro’Meave, and fighting against Garte and Zane’s abuse over his childhood. It’s a subtler form of conflict, but it’s very interesting to imagine how he was able to put up with all of it (I’ve planned so many prequel fics about the Ro’Meaves you guys). Then there’s the whole shadowknight topic that really is indicative of itself. Vylad's whole arc was based upon leaving behind the violence of his past as a literal soldier within the Shadow Lord's army. Again it’s really easy to forget but this is someone who was revived to burn the world to the ground and slaughter any and every man, woman, and child that got in the way of it. He told Aphmau himself in season 2: “One good deed does not fix a thousand wrongs done. I'm not a good person, let's just leave it at that. Please.” We may not have seen it on screen, but who knows how long Vylad was traveling with Sasha and Gene. I doubt Phoenix Drop was the first village they targeted, and I doubt Gene or Sasha or even Zenix were ever like “oh yeah you can wait outside while we commit atrocities on this Lord and his family and burn the whole village to the ground.” Vylad has a very practical mindset (another trait indicative of a good soldier), and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was purposefully good at his job so it would land him more opportunities to get out of the nether now and again. He enacted violence well enough that he was trusted to be sent outside the nether to go fuck up the overworld. Vylad is a man thoroughly haunted by war and the violence he’s committed against others in a way his brothers just… aren't. Sure, Garroth knows fighting and violence as a means of protection and ensuring the safety of others, but he doesn’t know war. He’s never had someone he cared about die in his arms. He’s never seen a whole village burn to the ground and see innocent people slaughtered left and right. He’s never seen a child screaming at their dead mother to get up. He may use violence, but he was never a violent person. Zane, on the other hand, most definitely was, however, but he hardly ever enacted any of the violence himself. 90% of the time it was jurors or guards he’d given orders to. And while he was more than happy to get his hands dirty every once in a while, he never felt genuine consequence from it. 

Continuing on Vylad’s inner psyche, we see after he still keeps a very practical, soldier-like mindset out of the nether in company with Aph and Co: He gets annoyed at Aphmau when she puts off telling everyone about the Tuu’la invasion. He surveys Laurance from a distance and does not interfere even in danger because he’s aware of the long term effect of distrust it would cause him. Upon the chaos in Narhaka, he immediately goes to burn books that have important locations the enemy could use against them. This is actually one of my favorite scenes because of how subtly status-quo breaking it is. Tell me right now of any scene involving book burnings done by a guy the audience is supposed to root for. Vylad’s view of the world makes him incredibly pragmatic and able to calculate the win-loss ratio of his actions and let that decide whether or not he will go through with it.

Vylad may not have the typical surface-level look of the characters often put into the category, but if you really dive into his past, his mindset, and the way he views the world, he easily fits into the role of soldier; with the final line “Your love is where you heal” setting him on the path of redemption we see throughout the whole series.

"Loneliness. Strength. Joy. You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough. Here's the truth : you are. You sing songs and hope they carry faith, because you have run out of it, and yet you still throw your heart out to the world and hope it makes it through. You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create. You are tired of stumbling through life. You dream of a ground you can stand on. One day, you will dance. Your love is where you feel - without fear." -Poet

Now I admit for Zane it does require a more particular perspective to place him as poet, but I’ll start simple and slowly transition to red string and corkboard. Firstly, from the original song lyrics, “He will slay you with his tongue” applies in at least two different ways. The first being obvious: Zane is incredibly charismatic- you don’t just make it to High Priest without a certain degree of people skills included but not limited to negotiating, preaching, and being able to reason your way through any theological question a questioning sinner could ask you. It’s a shame we don’t see it put into use very often throughout the series, but I think his position gives enough testament to his people skills. The second way this line applied is a bit more literal and a bit more dark, which would be the sheer amount of people who were murdered not by his hands directly, but on mere orders. He can quite literally have people slain in just a few words to the right people. Moving to the more esoteric; the line “You are powerful, but struggle believing it. You think you're not enough.” seems like it be a hitch to his characterization, as it first invokes the idea of someone who lacks self-confidence, which is FAR from what we see Zane characterized as in the story. However I see this from the lense of artists becoming blind to the depth of their own skill. Zane is powerful, but it’s not enough for him. He’s become so accustomed to the level of influence he holds he’s become desensitized to it, like how you stop feeling the cold of the water once you stay in it long enough.The power he’s been swimming in his entire life no longer brings that vitalic shudder of control he craves. Thus he seeks power that goes beyond mortal influence to raw, unchanneled divinity, as that’s the only thing that he has ever been told is above him. He hungers the same as any artist— to be something greater than they already are.

“You convince yourself that pain is art because at least then, you will always have something to create.” The idea of creation draws back to Zane’s relationship with control and divinity. I think it's highly debatable as to whether or not Zane has actual “faith” in the divine (i.e, seeing them as gods he wishes to emulate or simply as extremely powerful beings minus the religious element), but in either case it again leads back to desire for more. (sidenote: Zane’s fatal flaw being lust is such a delicious piece of irony and I could make an essay of its own on it). Anyway, back to the point I was originally trying to make: Zane sows pain and destruction as a means of asserting his power/importance both to others and himself. The “pain” spoken of would normally belong to the poet themself— but this is no ordinary poet, and there is no specific indication where said pain emerges from. 

"Duty. Strength. Resignation. You were told to do things and you did them. The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will. You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture ? You don't know. You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs. Your love is where you breathe." -King

God where do I start. “Duty. Strength. Resignation” It’s like someone just said ‘describe Garroth in three words’. Duty has been his entire life, wanted or not, which leads directly into resignation. “You were told to do things and you did them.The world is something that was put into your hands and that you must deal with - so you will.” He learned his history. He learned the politics. He followed the dogma. He believed in Irene and his father and the glory of O’Khasis and his divine duty to lord over its people. His people. He said it himself in episode 68 he wanted to be exactly like his father, and that he thought to be lord was an honor and a privilege. To him, the weight of the world has rested upon his shoulders for so long that he becomes accustomed to each additional hardship quickly and quietly, never kicking up a fuss about his growing stress and dissatisfaction, like a frog in a pool of water that is steadily increasing in temperature. He locks his festering disdain for glorification of leadership away from his father, his family, and the rest of the world because he cannot show that he is anything but the Atlas of duty he was born to be. 

Until, one day, he has enough. He saw what happens to his dear little brother, likely the only person he felt he could truly bond with, and despite everything he still dealt with it, for the sake of the people around him, but when his father commands him to marry a girl he has never met (likely while he is still processing his grief) in the name of ‘duty’, it is the straw that breaks the camel's back. He sees that everything he has worked towards is meaningless as he will never reach a point where his father will be satisfied with him. That his father will continue to take and take from him until there is nothing left but a soulless puppet that will continue to speak his words even after his reign has ended. Every burden he has carried, every grievance he has hidden, every struggle he’s overcome and the hard work he’s put into building himself a true heir of O’Khasis— it all amounts to nothing.

So he leaves. 

Now, let me ask you: what would you do if you were a runaway prince escaping the crushing weight of expectation? Take a bunch of money from your no-good dad? Buy a boat ticket and live a new life in luxury on the other side of the world? Never work a day again and dive head first into careless relaxation? Surely, you wouldn’t look twice at a dilapidated little village on the coast. Wouldn’t bother to stop by and lift a finger to help it. You're free, you have a whole life of sweet exemption to look forward to. You wouldn’t give it the time of day.

“You have a rigid back and steady hands, either metaphorically or physically. Is it nature or nurture?”

Garroth finds himself in Phoenix Drop— a rickety dead-end little town as far away from home as possible. He stays, and he helps. He keeps the village running, he helps the Lord wherever he can. He takes in the broken, starved boy he finds in the woods. He does whatever he can to improve the lives of the people around him. Why? He owes them nothing, he’s spent a lifetime crushed under the weight of people's expectations and he turns around just to find himself carrying the weight of more lives on his shoulders. He is doing everything he was taught and everything he ran away from. 

But this time it’s different. This time, he sees how he’s helping. There’s no more grating voice telling him none of the effort matters. He has a rigid back and steady hands, metaphorically and physically. For the first time in his life, he can see with his own two eyes that his effort is worth it. There isn’t doubt and lies and corruption floating in and out of his mind. Just the warm, honest smiles of the people he helps. He feels it and it is real. The question “Is it nature or nurture?” is genuine: Is Garroth helping these people out of the kindness of his heart or because it was what he was always told to do, and now that he is without the purpose he was assigned he’s leaning on something familiar? Personally, I think that’s for the audience to decide. I myself would say a mixture of both, leaning more so towards nature. But I digress. 

It’s better then, when he helps and can see that he is doing good, but of course, that peace is not to last him. With the Lord’s death and impending turmoil of Phoenix Drop, Garroth’s role in the village shifts drastically to closer resembling the role he ran away from. People are treating him with near as much kindness anymore, no. The most forgiving are losing faith and the least are blaming him. Blaming him for failing to meet their expectations. Now, as things are deteriorating, he has more than enough reason to leave. He gave it the good ol’ college try, and he failed. With the sentiments of the village becoming scarily familiar to that of his father, he should just say “fuck it” and head on off to that faraway land where no one will know his name.

But still, he doesn’t. We see him in Rebirth and how desperate he is to fix the village, to make it work. Even when everyone else is telling him to give up, he refuses. Even sinking, a captain stays on his ship. (Side note: it’s scenes like this that cause me to start tearing up people’s lawns whenever I see takes that label Garroth as having a “fear of responsibility”). And he is completely ready to either make things work or die trying, regardless of what stands in his way. 

‘You are tired of being steady. You dream of feeling alive. Not that you aren't, but, sometimes, it's hard to remember that there is a heart between your ribs.’

Aphmau wasn’t the first person he saved. Zenix had likely been around for at least a year beforehand. However Zenix was a hothead teenager in need of guidance, which simply made him become another responsibility Garroth set upon himself. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely cares for him, but their relationship is far different than the one he has with Aphmau. 

With Aphmau, he finally has someone who shares the burden. Not only that, but sharing it willingly and with a smile on her face. He’s not used to having a person who presents themselves as an equal sharer of responsibility. Much less, someone who is willing and wanting for him to put his burdens on her (At least, that’s how he sees it). He can’t remember the last time he truly allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone. All the desires he’s pushed down start to bubble back up again, and he starts to imagine things he’d long tried to do away with. He sees Aphmau as a strong leader, one whose idealism is a strength and not a weakness, and how she accomplishes things he never quite got around to doing. An admiration grows for her, yes, but that’s not what makes her different. The difference, he sees, is her vulnerability. How she allows herself to be vulnerable around him. How despite the brave face she puts on, she has just as much fear that she isn’t enough. And she tells him this, directly, because she trusts him. And all of a sudden he realizes that if she can be strong to the rest of the world, and yet still let him see her weakness, her softness, then maybe, just maybe

“Your love is where you breathe.”

He can take his armor off, too.

[stepmarchen]

Analyzing Shuri and Lucas' Relationship

Mostly a Lucas rant because he's one of my favorite characters (even though we love to hate this bastard)

spoilers up to Ch. 126

Despite our not so lovely introduction to Lucas' character in the early chapters of the manhwa, It's so interesting how Lucas' villainy took a complex route in later chapters and the role his strengths and weaknesses play to Shuri's misfortune and favor.

Shuri often recounts memories of Lucas during their childhood in Bretten and we get an inside look on the person he is inside.

"Lucas Ighofer, my brother... He thought I was slow and dull-witted because I didn't know how to be tough... but he would also sometimes step in like an older brother in front of the rough neighbors. Whenever that happened... He made me think that maybe some things would go his way."

- Shuri, Ch. 125

He wasn't exactly "nice" but the two relied on one another in that way that only siblings would relate to. While he totally belittled her, Lucas also trusted Shuri with his earnings, the code to his safe, and defended Shuri like a true big brother.

In a way, I think it's actually thanks to Lucas that Shuri also dreamt of a better life. We see this in the way she seems to remember him in a positive light (literally basked in warm light). There's also major significance in how her core memories of him are usually about his hopes and dreams, as opposed to say, his gambling habits or laziness.

Shuri could've had the same humble dreams as her bff Anna but I think she looked up to Lucas, who was the only real role model in her early life.

The main difference between the two was the vehicles in which they took towards their shared goal. Shuri planned a more earnest living, selling crops for a chicken, and the eggs for a pig, and so forth. Meanwhile, Lucas made bets, resulting in quick and large sums of cash while simultaneously losing it all in the process.

Lucas knows exactly how corrupt the world can be and he's fully willing to go down with it. It's just unfortunate that he's also willing to drag down Shuri along with him.

In the end, Shuri got an involuntary ride to the top of the food chain and Lucas... climbed his way to the capital... eventually.

Now let's talk briefly interlude about Lucas' time in the capital.

While he's a selfish mf that tried to extort his own baby sister (multiple times), he is also one of the most motivated characters in the series, even to the point where he becomes a pest. He'll take all the shortcuts he can take, but if it doesn't work out, he's not totally unwilling to take the long and hard route. In their first on-page meeting, Shuri calls out Lucas for lying about starving for 4 days. But this is never actually confirmed. I want to say that it's pretty likely that he really was starving. Now, the reason why? Proooobably because he gambled away his food money.

Anyway, back on topic.

Eventually, Lucas does make it and opens the Sheiss Gambling House at the call of Cardinal Meissner.

"He used other people's weaknesses for his own selfish interests... yet despised being exploited himself. He, more than anyone... wanted to live a life where he could use others."

- Shuri, Ch. 125

The thing about Lucas is that he's also one of the smarter characters as well. His outer farce makes him seem like a small threat, but he singlehandedly started the gears for the upcoming Holy War.

Think about it. He somehow gathered tons of blackmail on the church because he disliked the idea of being used by Cardinal Meissner over his Gambling Business. Blackmail that at this point, only an insider (with access to secret tunnels in the Vatican) like Richelieu had privvy to. We don't know exactly how Lucas gathered this material... but the fact that he did makes him a pretty big threat.

Which is exactly why the church captured him.

And it's only thanks to years of growing up side by side together that Shuri knew her brother well enough to know that the blackmail existed and where/how to retrieve it.

The only concern now is that Lucas may have also given the Church vital information regarding Shuri. And we don't know what he disclosed.

At this point, we know that Shuri still has some lingering sisterly love for Lucas, but it's unconfirmed whether Lucas feels the same way. Lucas is an asshole but I would like to think that in his final moments, Lucas would still protect Shuri like he did years ago.

In the end, Shuri outgrew her "dim-witted" nature and took advantage of the information waiting in her lap. She evolved past Lucas' shadow used his brains to her advantage. But she never used anything against him. Even in the bitter end, she tried to save him. And he ended up killing himself.

[hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha]

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥.

Gyūtarō x Fem!Reader [Yandere]

Synopsis: She is of House Kyogoku and surprisingly her favourite. She's always calling her over and praising her for even the smallest things. However, one night, she is to meet the Oiran in her room but is met with someone new...

Warnings: Cannibalism, Possessive behaviour (duh), very little blood mention, Coddling, Stalking, Suffering :D

Notes: Believe it or not, this was supposed to be posted all the way back in December but I just kinda forgot about it. It is also a migration so that's why (I was too lazy to rephrase) but here we are now :D. Enjoy this one-shot of my favourite character to write after Hantengu. (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ + I didn't proofread (⁠●⁠♡⁠∀⁠♡⁠)

Beautiful people annoy him.

They always have and will with the exception of his lovely younger sister. Beautiful people are privileged bastards who love to look down upon the ugly and unfortunate. Someone like him. They are selfish, cruel, barbaric, sometimes even evil. However, he makes it his job to put them in their place and remind them that they are not above him, not above a demon, an Upper Rank. He makes it obvious to especially the rich and beautiful, yes. They are beneath him, beneath someone as ugly as himself. Yet, with her... There was something about her he couldn't piece out. Why did he become so obsessed with her the moment he saw her? A human? A beautiful one no less. She's pathetic, mere cattle, so why did he want that one in particular? Was it her patient behaviour with Daki or the fact that she had a smile that made her shine like a star? Or was it her beauty? Maybe. Daki is the most beautiful girl in existence, that much he knows. No one can rival her, hell, even an average human man faints at the sight of her and he couldn't be more proud of that fact but... She was... something. He still believed that truly no one could be more beautiful than his beloved little sister but she was something else entirely. He could almost say her beauty rivalled hers and he hated that fact. Whatever the case for his infatuation with her may be, all he knew is that she was his. His favourite doll. And he would ensure that she would stay within his grasp forever.

"What do even see in her, brother?" The sound of his sister's irritated voice snapped him out of his train of thought. "She's average at best and she's a human too. We eat those, remember?" Daki could not see what he saw through her vanity and pride and he could not blame her. She is after all the most beautiful girl of the land. At the very least, she played nice with her just like he had requested of her. "Don't be so harsh, Daki. She is more beautiful than any of the courtesans you have working under your. Far more beautiful..." The taller demon croaked from the corner of the room. Whenever she spoke so ill of his doll, he couldn't help but feel offended and angry for her, but this was his sister, he couldn't just snap at her. But he couldn't let her speak so horribly of her either. "Take a look at the other human women. She is like a bright light among those dull and uninteresting women, which is a huge feat in itself, especially for a human." Daki couldn't answer because she knew he was right. She herself unknowingly felt a slight bit of fondness for her simply because of her beauty and the fact that her big brother Gyūtarō held a fondness for her too. Still, she couldn't help but think she was trying to outshine her and that won't do. "She's isn't as beautiful as you, that much is obvious, but she's on a certain level that makes her far better than the rest." She felt satisfied with his answer and huffed with pride before turning her head away.

"But of course she isn't as beautiful as me! I knew that!" Daki laughed in a vain manner as she walked away from the moonlight that shone into the room from the balcony to leave. "Ugh, anyways. I have a client to deal with today and yes, I'll make sure she's not taken for service." Daki added on as she held out her arm for Gyūtarō so he could be absorbed. Gyūtarō didn't say much and fused with his sister until it was just her as he would watch through her eyes for another night of her doing business. Daki had been called by the master so she could meet her client and needless to say, both she and Gyūtarō weren't impressed. Such a lowly, perverted man. Gyūtarō was getting angry at the man's mere presence and he didn't know why. It reminded him of something and it involved his little sister as well. Fortunately, before his temper could flare and add onto to Daki's, his favourite courtesan arrived. "Oh, what a beautiful one she is. Is she available for service?" And as quickly as his temper had disappeared, it reappeared. This lowlife of a human was asking for his favourite doll's service? The audacity especially from someone like him. Daki herself couldn't help but feel insulted that the human would want one of her more beautiful employees.

Nevertheless, she had to keep up impressions and play dollhouse for the time being. She could bring no shame to her so-called master after all. "Oh, yes. That is Y/N and she is is available for service." The demon smiled in a feigned manner as she 'proudly' presented one of her courtesans. Y/N certainly seemed to hold a bit of pride and Daki noticed. It disgusted and irritated her how such a beautiful human held so much pride and tried to show off for such an ugly one. Oh well, as long as she made money. All was going well, the client seemed to be very cooperative with the deals and whatnot until... Y/N tripped. The women fell and the tray she held slipped right of her hand. The scalding tea fell in the cups fell out and while Daki was quick to dodge, the human was not. He howled in pain at the scorching feeling while Daki fumed at the fact that a client was now likely to be discouraged from requesting any service from House Kyogoku. Gyūtarō on the other hand, was greatly amused by the man's pain. "Y/N! What is the meaning of this?!" Daki yelled furiously at the human woman. For a moment, she thought it was her fault until she just barely caught the foot of another courtesan quickly retreating from the woman's kimono.

She noticed how the poor woman tried to explain herself but to keep up appearances, she didn't allow her to continue. "I-I apologise, Oiran!I-I swear it wasn't—" "Silence! I don't want to hear it! We will be having a conversation in private tonight! And I want no excuses!" Daki had immediately sent her away to her room as she requested the younger girls to help assist her client while she tried to fix the damage that had been done. Thankfully, the human seemed to be one of the more eager bunch and accepted her apology with a smile. His request only got bolder but she could live with that, right now, she had two courtesans to confront. Once the man left, Daki was quick to ignore everyone and immediately headed up to her room to confront to await the courtesan. She disappeared from everyone's eyes like a ghost. No one heard or saw her entering her room and didn't even know she was there until she requested one of the girls to call Y/N.

The people of House Kyogoku always wondered how she did it and her answer was always the same. She doesn't know. They've all told her that Oiran Warabihime is a woman who is easily irritated and that the smallest mistakes irked her. That she's brutal and many of the prostitutes have committed ashinuke because of her, some even suicide! Yet, from Y/N's point of view, she can't believe that the woman they described is the same woman she see almost everyday. She's always so sweet and respectful, encouraging and thoughtful, nothing like what they described! Yet, today might be the day she see her true self after the accident that had occurred. As she walks towards the private quarters if the Oiran, anxious and worried, she wonders what she would do. How would she be punished? All the other prostitutes looked upon the poor woman with pity, even the master himself. Knowing how irritable the Oiran is, they fear for her safety and they also fear that her charm over the Oiran might've run out. After all, it was Y/N who would calm down the Oiran whenever she'd have her rage fits. The master would summon her to talk to the Oiran and it would always work without fail. All she would have to do is spend some time with her and usually it wasn't that bad either. Just some gossip and pleasant conversation.

Though, now, her luck has ran out. She now stands infront of the Oiran's room, waiting to be let in to receive her scolding and punishment. She would've knocked, however, the door slid open on its own revealing Oiran Warabihime's eerily dark room. The people of House Kyogoku never knew why her room was so dark and obscured, but none of them dared to ask in fear of her lashing out at them. Right now however, the room was pitch black. There was no light or even a lit candle visible, just pure darkness with the only source of light being that of the outside. With a gulp, Y/N slowly entered the room, a bead of sweat running down the side of her face. The door suddenly then slid closed which startled and confused her greatly. What was happening? She feared it may have been the vengeful spirits of the prostitutes that have committed suicide. "Hey..." But no, it wasn't that... That wasn't the Oiran. The woman didn't wait a moment longer and ran straight for the door, however— "Don't try running. You'll be back in my arms before you can even blink." She was suddenly in the man's arms and she didn't even notice until he spoke. The courtesan hyperventilated in fear. Who is this man? Why is he in the Oiran's room? She can't see a thing. "I've been watching you for a while, you know?" "W-Who are you...?" She wondered what this man was going to do to her, if he even was one to begin with. His voice sounded so raspy and hoarse, as if he hadn't drank water in years and his grip was so unnaturally strong. She thought her bones were going to break with how firm his grip is.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I asked my sister to let you off the hook and thankfully, she agreed. She wasn't too angry at you anyways..." ["Sister?! What is he talking about?! There's no way Oiran Warabihime is related to this man!"] She thought even through all her fear. How could someone him be related to someone as well-respected as Oiran Warabihime? Did she even know he was here? Where even was the Oiran? Suddenly, the lights flickered on, dimly lighting up the room which revealed a tall malnourished male to the poor woman. He is tall, muscular on his upper body, but terribly skinny on his lower half. He has skin so pale that it appears grey and a blotting birthmark that spreads from the right side of his cheek just half-way across his face. His hair is partially tied up, with uneven bangs, and the ends are a lime green. His eyes, they're downturned and a sickly yellow... Not human. His teeth are crooked and sharp, but that's not the most eye-catching part. His irises, they have the kanji for "Upper Rank" and daiji for "Six" etched into them. This man is no human. "I'm sure you know by now that I'm not a human, which means you're not like all the other dumb humans I've eaten." She would've screamed for help, screamed out that there was a demon in the household, but in the blink of an eye, she was cut off.

He was behind the woman now, head pressed right next to hers and not letting out or taking in a single breath, as she how his calloused hands gripped her jaws shut. ["What does he want from me?"] The courtesan thought fearfully as her eyes welled up with tears. She thought that this is how she was going to die. "Don't scream, I won't hurt you. I just want to be with you. Oiran Warabihime will take care of the one who tripped you." The demon croaked, leaving the courtesan confused as to how he knew of the incident. Before she could even process any more thoughts. He wrapped his free arm around her waist as he then lifted her off the floor effortlessly and took her into his arms. "My name is Gyūtaro. Don't worry, doll. I'll keep you away from all those prying eyes. You won't have to worry about anything anymore, my sister will keep you away from any customers so you'll be all mine. Isn't that nice?" His yellow eyes stared deep into hers as if waiting for an answer, but she didn't. She couldn't answer, not when his hand is clenching her jaws shut. He then let go and waited intently, it almost seemed as if wanted her to be happy about the fact that she was going to be his. When she answered, it was in the heat of the moment. She really didn't mean what she said. Obviously she's not happy about the fact that some man-eating demon is obsessed with her and possessive over her. But, what hurts her even more is that the Oiran is part of this. She eats humans! And she worked with this monster!

"No..."

He wasn't surprised. Not in the slightest. "That's alright, I can wait. It's not like you'll be leaving anytime soon." And he can always make her a demon anyways, that way he won't lose her. She tried to struggle against his grasp, but failed so miserably that Gyūtarō was amused by it. Humans are so weak and pathetic, he couldn't help but chuckle softly. Her weak and plump muscles couldn't budge him in the slightest. "Quit squirming around, I won't hurt you. Not if you want me to..." He felt immediately how she froze in fear and had to force back a cruel laugh as he heard her heartbeat quicken. So easy to scare. Through all her clothing, Gyūtarō could feel her soft, delicate flesh, so supple and smooth. Her smell is divine and he assumed that her blood must be even better. "Please, let me go... I'm just here to meet the Oiran..." Daki was only nice to her because he had asked her to. His dear little sister, so kind enough to let her live for me. He couldn't be more grateful. "Oiran Warabihime is attending to some business elsewhere now. I'll be the one you'll be with for tonight." The demon chuckled lowly when he heard her breath hitch once more, her fear is so adorable to him. The smooth feeling of her kimono against his skin felt pleasant and her soft hand trying to pull his arm away even better. He almost laughed at her useless attempts. Almost.

"Stop struggling, little doll, it's futile. You won't be leaving me anytime soon." Gyūtarō grumbled, annoyed at the fact that she still persisted. His temper was quickly flaring at her attempts of trying to free herself and it took a lot of his self-control to not break her legs. "Please, let me go!" The fear in her voice amused him slightly and was the only thing preventing him from lashing out at her. Gyūtarō then turned her around, holding her face firmly so she could look into his eyes before he warned. "Your struggling won't get you anywhere, Y/N. I won't ever let you go and I suggest you remember that. If you try to escape, I will find you, drag you back and break your legs so you won't run again. Understood?" His pupils remained constricted as he waited for her to answer. She answered with a simple nod but Gyūtarō wasn't going to take that as an answer. He wanted to hear her beautiful voice, a voice he knew that sounded absolutely divine when singing. "Understood?" The demon repeated, this time in a firmer tone as the grip on her cheeks tightened a dangerous amount. "Y-Yes!" "Yes what?" "Y-Yes, Gyūtarō..." Her final answer satisfied the demon as he then let go of her face and relaxed his grip on her body. "Good. Don't you forget my name now..."

The rest of her night was awful. It was full of unwanted praise and touches, though, none inappropriate, they were directed at her face and the beauty it had and his compliments at her smooth, beautiful skin. Even as she was busy doing her tasks and served the customers she had for the night, she could feel his stare and how he practically almost undressed her by just looking. But, it wasn't enough for Gyūtarō. He wanted to see her better, even if the brothel had lights bright enough to make her entire frame visible, he wanted something better. The demon snatched her away when she neared Daki's room and in a the blink of an eye, he was atop the roof of the brothel with Y/N in his arms, standing under the moonlight and taking in every single detail his advanced eyes could. He held her so close, so tight, as if she would disappear from his arms at any moment. "You're very pretty, you know that?" His eyes took in every bit of her features, feasted upon her beauty like a hungry predator. It was awful.

At Daki's return, Gyūtarō was still fawning over the courtesan, praising her face and holding her in his arms with an uncomfortably tight grip. Of course, Daki, cared less for the woman and continued to play nice with her, barely ever losing her temper simply for Gyūtarō. She made an exception for only her, and continued being 'kind' to her, all while Y/N pretender to be fine. Whenever a customer would come for Y/N in particular, Gyūtarō would grow furious, and would seperate from Daki to follow the customer and Y/N. Before she could even get begin her services, Gyūtarō would come in, slash the customer down and proceed to pamper the courtesan with affection. She saw him kill the customers in the cruelest yet quickest ways possible, and it never improved.

Today, another customer came, requesting Y/N her services. Putting up a show and fake smiles, Daki—Oiran Warabihime agreed, gladly letting the customer pay and take Y/N for service. Meanwhile, Gyūtarō observed through his sister's eyes as Y/N was taken away. Once the customer left, Daki huffed, ordering the others around while she herself retreated to her room. "Brother." Gyūtarō revealed himself the second the doors to her soon slid closed. His sister saw how furious he was but simply dismissed his mood. Overtime, she noticed just how obsessed he had grown with the courtesan and would try to keep her off-limits for him. "At least let her do her duty, brother. These constant murders could easily lead back to us, you know?" Daki complained, rolling her eyes at the many obvious deaths that occurred when Y/N would be given out for service. "I know, I know, but she's mine! I'm not going to have any other man ogle her!" Daki sighed heavily but didn't try to stop him, only waving him off to attend to this business.

In the blink of an eye, Gyūtarō transported himself outside atop the roof, before observing the district and sniffing the air for her scent. It didn't take long before he managed to catch onto it before he quickly followed it as fast as he could, appearing merely as a blur or not appearing at all to those pathetic humans. He heard how the customer complimented her beauty, her body and all else. It pissed her off and all poor Y/N could do was smile and laugh in flattery as this human ogled her. He'd make it hurt extra for him. By the time Gyūtarō arrived at the designated area, they hadn't even arrived which brought the selfish demon much relief. ["I can just swoop in and kill him there, have her all to myself again..."] He quickly stalked the pair and waited for them to walk near a fairly desolate area. Once they did, he jumped down, startling them both in the process and Y/N of course, dreaded his presence but was too helpless to do anything. Before the man could get out a sound, Gyūtarō slashed him in half and quickly shielded Y/N from the blood splatter. She was sobbing at the sight, at the fact that she knew she'd never be free from this psychopath who seems to think of himself as her lover. "There, there, you're back with me now." The demon consoled her though clearly showed little care for what he did, her feelings and especially the man he had just slain. "Now, do me a favour and scream. You don't want to look like the bad guy now, do you?" She complied, but turned away from the corpse, as her demon stalker quickly retreated to the shadows, watching her intently with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Once she had caught the attention of the people, she began crying more and letting out whatever stress that was in her system as best as she could despite the demon being near. The people rushed over, asking many questions about what happened and what she saw. The courtesan didn't say anything and was eventually escorted back to her house, to where he would be waiting for her. Gyūtarō waited for her to arrive, and once she did, she was escorted to Daki's quarters. "Gyūtarō..." The poor courtesan gulped, hesitating to walk into the very room her demon stalker awaited her. "My beautiful Y/N, I've been waiting for you. Come here..." Gyūtarō wanted her in his arms again, wanted to feel her soft skin on his again. He craved her and he didn't understand why. He couldn't understand why not having her in his arms would drive him nearly mad but he didn't care. She was his and she was as perfect. She was his to admire and gaze upon in awe and desire, nobody else's. Y/N slowly stepped towards Gyūtarō, hesitating. The demon, however, had little patience as he then took her into his arms, trapping her in a caging embrace. "You did well, doll. As you always do..." He'd never let her leave, he'd be insane if he did. This courtesan was like no other human and Gyūtarō had decided that he wanted her, wanted to keep her as a pet of sorts, wanted to keep her as a sort of charm and she couldn't do a single thing because in the end, he was a demon over a century old that could easily kill her before she'd even realise and she was a mere human to him. Food. A beaut.

His favourite doll...

Fun fact: I used to to be a huge yandere writer before the smut began taking over and bet your ass I used the same damn context over and over again. I want to return to my roots and quite my yandere again and this time it will be beautiful.

Divider credits

The first green thing I can't describe

The star line

That white with green

Gradient + the other green

Lace (ling—)

[askthefivefallen]

Failure to Communicate

Righty blinked.

In her existence, she’d had a lot of interesting experiences. The Exterminations, Falling, working at the hotel- not unique, but interesting.

However, she was almost certain no Exorcist angel had ever been thrown through an infernal portal conjured by an Ars Goetia.

Until her, anyway.

“Uh… okay… guess that was a long shot anyway.” Righty picked herself up off the ground and dusted off her hotel uniform. “Where’d that bastard send me, anyway?”

Righty had seen a lot of Hell by this point. More than when the Exterminations were happening, anyway- she’d been to other Rings, she’d ridden the elevator a few times, all that- but she didn’t recognize the shadowy, fog filled field she seemed to be. Actually, could it even be a field if there was nothing but dirt and rocks? Lefty would probably know.

She spread her wings, intending to fly up and get a better look… but every time she flapped them… nothing… happened? She couldn’t get off the ground. She couldn’t fly, as if something was keeping her in place. But infernal magic couldn’t do that, she was pretty sure; Angel Dust had tested if they could break handcuffs and other restraints their first week working at the hotel for reasons he refused to elaborate on but she suspected were tied to Vaggie’s yelling a few days later.

Which… would imply there’s some… Holy power at work… but where could an Ars Goetia send her that would be under Heaven’s-

“Oh… no… am I in Purgatory? That place actually exists!?” Righty groaned, stamping her foot. “Why? Why here? How the fuck do I get out of-”

From behind, she was tackled to the ground, and she turned ready to shout but a hand covered her mouth as a face appeared over her.

Another Exorcist, still in her black and silver uniform, orange eyes blazing with a long burning fury that pinned her in place. Just beyond orange and brown hair, Righty spotted something truly horrifying flying above- four wings but eyeless, with long pikes clenched in demonic claws, and open jaws filled with serrated teeth. Lesser Dominions, those who could only hear, and listened to purge the souls trapped in Purgatory.

It flew over them, seeking its next target, and the Exorcist above her watched it fly away before glaring and letting her up.

“Thanks,” Righty said, her voice far softer as she pushed herself up and dusted herself off. So much for her one claim to uniqueness. “What’s an Exorcist doing down here?” The question sparks nothing from the other Exorcist. “Um, okay, maybe that’s a touchy subject. Well… uh… my name’s Righty. What’s yours?” Nothing- and now she was walking away. “Wait!”

The moment Righty grabbed her, the Exorcist reacted, and Righty did as well, summoning her halberd to her hand to block… the… fist?

Her brows furrowed while the other’s shot up in surprise. “Where’s your weapon?”

The Exorcist backs away and tilts her head, pointing to her ear.

“You can’t hear me?” Righty presses her lips into a thin line. “I don’t remember that being a rule of Purgatory- oh! Are you deaf?”

After saying the word, Righty remembered that she is, as Lefty often put it, a bit dumb sometimes.

Thinking quickly, she used the butt of her halberd to scratch into the dirt at their feet.

‘Deaf?’

The Exorcist read the word- upside down, because Righty didn’t think that far ahead- and nodded.

Righty smiled. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.” She quickly wiped the word away with her shoe and scratched out another word.

‘Name?’

She then pointed at herself and shook her right hand while speaking slowly. “Righty. My name is Righty.”

The flat look she received in response seemed to convey that speaking slowly wasn’t helping. However, the Exorcist motioned for her halberd and Righty handed it over, watching as she scratched out her name.

‘Rin.’

“Rin.” Righty nodded, then looked up to see Rin cross two fingers, then extend her pinky, then loop her two fingers over her thumb. Three hand gestures, three… letters? Was that how to spell her name? Righty raised her left hand and mimicked the motions, much to Rin’s surprise. “Like that?”

Rin tilted her head, her lips curling slightly. She did the motions again, then capped it off by crossing her fingers and moving her hand like… a sword? No, wait- if the other gestures were letters, maybe this was… pronouncing the word?

‘R-I-N, Rin?’

Rin nodded. She did only the gesture and pointed towards Rin and received a nod in response.

“Okay, so I know how to say… er, well… I’ve got your name.” Righty once again resorted to drawing in the dirt. ‘Out?’

Rin shook her head, looking crestfallen.

“Yeah, I figured.” Righty sighed, looking around… but there was nothing to see. So… they had time. 

‘Teach?’

Rin raised a brow, and only then did Righty really adjust to being in Purgatory enough to notice the scars on her face. She’d either had to fight one of the Dominions or… that was from before…

Righty pointed at Rin, then at her own ear. She did the signs for Rin’s name, then wrote her own name in the dirt and pointed to it.

Rin rolled her eyes and turned as if to leave but stopped a few steps away, shoulders falling as she turned back. One of Rin’s wings extended and, for all the time Righty had been gone from Heaven, her stripes remained. While nothing else about them might be the same, their wings were similar enough that Rin turned back, tapped her foot against the ‘g’ in Righty’s name, and made a sign with her hand.

Righty smiled.

Now, they were really getting somewhere!

—

Time didn’t really exist in Purgatory. There was no day or night, just a persistent gray miasma that weighed everything down. After hours of learning how to do the hand language, they started walking. The direction didn’t seem to matter as their footing never seemed to change, just the desolate wasteland of Purgatory. In the distance, Righty could hear others lamenting their fate and the rush of Dominion wings hunting them down, silencing them. There were others in the fog, quieter, but still holding out hope that it might end.

Righty felt bad for them… Purgatory was supposed to have an end point but, after the Exterminations started, Heaven had closed the path up the mountain and shrouded the whole of it in fog. There was no salvation awaiting them. Hope and faith could not save them.

Rin, of course, couldn’t hear them, but she could see their shadows in the fog and steered clear of them. It made sense. They didn’t really resemble the Dominions but mortals would see wings and jump to conclusions. Rin probably would’ve avoided Righty if there hadn’t been imminent danger, and the way the Exorcist tensed, as if she could sense the Dominions’ approach… she’d been there for a long time.

They walked until they were tired, then sat and Righty learned some more. Hunger and thirst weren’t much of a concern but sleep was- at least, for Righty. Rin seemed content to sit, hunched over, and just rest.

Well… none of that.

Righty waved to get Rin’s attention. ‘Down.’

‘What?’

‘Down.’ She didn’t know the word for sleep, so she spelled it. ‘S-L-E-E-P.’

Rin shook her head.

‘N-O T-R-U-S-T?’

‘Yes.’ Righty huffed out a breath and got to her feet. ‘What?’

Righty explained, brokenly, that she’d remain standing until Rin laid down, to which the Exorcist shrugged and acted as if she didn’t care.

So there Righty stood for a few hours, at least, before Rin became frustrated enough to lie down on her back, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at Righty. Righty smiled and sat down, laying the shaft of her halberd across her lap. ‘Me, F-I-R-S-T W-A-T-C-H.’

‘You S-U-C-K.’

Righty stuck out her tongue and Rin rolled her eyes. Little did Rin know, Righty had experience dealing with Ass’ stubbornness, but the cantankerous Fallen had one really solid point: when they were all they had left, it meant they had to stick together. There was no escaping Purgatory. So, for all intents and purposes, it was just her and Rin. They had to take care of each other.

After about ten minutes of glaring, Rin had resigned herself to the situation enough to fall into a short but deep sleep.

Interestingly, she snored. Righty thought it was kinda cute.

—

It took a few nights for the exhaustion to wear off enough that Righty understood why Rin had refused to sleep. Nightmares plagued her, left her gasping and watching with a silent cry on her lips and tears in her eyes. Whatever had caused her to be sent to this place, the wounds were not visible but they were deep. 

Righty felt for her. At least through all the things she’d experienced, she had Lefty at her side. Sure, she was around less after getting together with Tits, and that was… an adjustment, at first. But, still, she had someone. Rin had been alone for so long.

They walked in the same direction every day. Rin eventually explained she wasn’t looking for an exit- she knew none existed- but sitting still would drive them both crazy. They were Exorcists, hunters of Sinners- they were meant to be restless and persistent. So, they walked.

Rin didn’t seem to like talking about her existence prior to Purgatory and Righty didn’t exactly have the vocabulary… but she tried. She explained the hotel, the other Fallen, some of their hijinks; she learned how to ‘say’ their names. Junior got a ‘J’ with both hands, kinda, but it was mixed with the word ‘change’. Lefty got ‘knowledge’ that then formed a ‘L’. Tits was a ‘T’ combined with ‘happy’. Ass got ‘A’ and ‘fight’. The one for Righty, she couldn’t really figure out; it was ‘R’ that Rin shook from her head. She refused to elaborate and Righty accepted it.

But what Rin didn’t tell her, Righty learned in other ways. Deaf she might be, Rin was still an Exorcist with the senses and skills of a trained huntress. She remained calm and poised throughout everything. There was never fear in those blazing orange eyes but just anger, burning just as hot as it had when they first met. Righty never got the sense Rin was mad at her- just… mad at being there, probably.

Honestly? Fair.

—

Righty had first watch again. Rin was beginning to stir from nightmares. She probably shouldn’t but… Righty moved quickly to Rin’s side and put a hand, gently on her shoulder- just to try and reassure her, maybe soothe her back to sleep. Rin leaned her head towards Righty’s hand in her sleep, as if needing the comfort…

She didn’t really… get it, when Lefty talked about Tits. She didn’t understand why Ass would risk her actual fucking existence for a joke. When her heart skipped a beat, though… she got it. She understood why Lefty got so flustered, why Ass faced down Sera’s wrath. Her lips lifted into a smile and she moved her hand to, very carefully, cup Rin’s cheek, avoiding her scars and just soothing her back into slumber.

It was probably stupid of her to think it… but Purgatory might be worth this feeling.

—

Maybe it was just wearing her down or some good, nightmare-less ‘nights’, but Rin started to loosen up a little. She smiled a bit when Righty got through a whole story without having to spell out any words. She even laughed!

Righty wished the others could meet her. Tits would love to learn how to do the hand language and Lefty would find it stimulating. Junior got along with just about everyone. Even Ass, if she’d made it back to Hell, would have a blast learning a new way to curse.

Little daydreams like that got her through the monotony of just… walking. She’d never walked this much before. Even around the hotel, she usually found an excuse to use her wings at least a little bit.

She also found herself wondering if she should say anything… it wasn’t like they were pressed for time. They had all eternity. She could wait.

Honestly, she probably should.

Righty heard the wings first and quickly put her halberd out, signaling to Rin for both of them to kneel down as a Dominion passed overhead.

Rin smiled at her and nodded. ‘Good job.’

She smiled wide in return.

Fuck, she really wouldn’t last long, would she?

—

They sat side-by-side, preparing to get through another ‘day’ of walking. Righty cleared her throat. “You know… I really like you.”

From the corner of her eye, she could tell Rin wasn’t paying her much attention. She couldn’t hear Righty. So, no risk.

“And… it’s weird because I’ve never felt like this before… I thought I was happy just having friends but… I get it now. What love feels like. So… if nothing else, thank you for… being my first love.”

Rin blinked and turned towards her, brows furrowed. ‘What?’

Righty smiled in response. ‘Thinking out loud.’

Rin drew back and raised a brow. ‘You can think?’

Righty shoved at her shoulder, laughing, and saw the laughter in Rin’s eyes matching her.

—

They were walking again, of course, when she suddenly felt a… tug… and stopped.

Rin stopped, too, looking at her with a questioning tilt to her head.

Righty shrugged- then was tugged again, backwards, stumbling a step.

In that moment, for the first time, she saw fear in Rin’s eyes. ‘Rin-’

A portal ripped open behind her and black talons sunk into her. Righty dropped her halberd to reach out for Rin even as the Exorcist tried to grab her- but too late. She was ripped backwards through the portal…

… and into the hotel lobby.

“Righty!” Lefty and Tits spoke in unison, Tits offering her a hand up while Lefty dropped down beside her.

‘Send me back!’ Both of them just stared at her. Right, they can hear her. “Send me back!”

“Absolutely not.” She twisted around, watching as Prince Stolas shook his head. “Opening a portal to Purgatory puts all of Hell at risk. If one of those Dominions gets loose, it will be pandemonium!”

“Okay, then go back and grab Rin!”

Owlish features furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“She’s another Exorcist- she’s down there and-”

He raised a hand to stop her. “I was only able to get you back because you are not marked for Purgatory. I can’t yank any soul from that dreary place. Lucifer might have that power but I doubt it.”

“Wait, there was another Exorcist there?” Lefty put a hand on Righty’s shoulder. “A Fallen?”

“N-no.”

“Ah, then, yes, she would be far beyond my power to… save.” Prince Stolas bowed his head, truly contrite. “I’m dreadfully sorry, my dear.”

“But… Rin… she’s still there…” Righty looked between the three of them… but to no avail. “No…”

Lefty pulled her into a hug as she started to cry, and Tits joined them. For the first time since Falling, she truly feels like she’s in Hell.

((@lost-rin))

[moosemonstrous]

Tagged by @doreyg, thank you!

No pressure tags: @ulfrsmal, @kermit-coded, @rokhal, @swaps55, and feel free to steal!

How many works do you have on ao3?

38, I'm the opposite of prolific 🫡

What’s your total word count?

164,872

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

stillness of remembering, what you lost and what you had (kalluzeb), amid the voiceless mountains (tbb), with open arms and with open doors and today is always gone tomorrow (FH3) - so Star Wars and a big video game series, no surprises there!

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I don't necessarily mind if a writer doesn't respond to my comments, but it's not like I get an overwhelming amount either so it's hardly an issue to shoot off a response.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I suppose Boundary (BG3), after a fashion. I tend to get Into It with the really angsty ideas and they don't end up published very often.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

thoughts compressed (ANGR) still gets me sappy on a reread, but I reckon what you lost and what you had takes the cake. Old bastards get to see the end of war! It's probably for the best I never wrote a follow-up.

Do you write crossovers?

AUs, more like. I tend to have a preference for one side over the other, so calling the results crossovers feels... incorrect.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not a lot!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

The kind that will mostly never see the light of the day 😂

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Every now and then I promise myself to write something in Polish, but it would just be for the sake of it and I don't know that I've got the patience anymore.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Other than some primary school notebook adventures, I suppose a better part of the Ghost Rider AUs were co-written with @wazzappp 🥰 But in a more traditional sense, nope.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I go for a specific dynamic rather than characters, so it really changes every time I get into a new fandom! Currently it's amareyes. I suppose my preference is that the blorbos kinda hate each other to start with.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The fuck-off massive Midnight Suns fic that's frankly grown too big to handle, and that terrible Rex-centric Clone Wars retelling that was going to be so sad you guys that I ran out of steam on. I open the wip files sometimes in vain hope they'll have tied themselves off when I wasn't looking.

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I occasionally get the character voice just right.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing. Oops. I know what should happen, the words just won't go :(

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Shrug. Anything can be done if it's done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Oh my god if we go for the FIRST-first one... Yeah I dealt exclusively in crossovers as a kid, why limit myself to one 😅 It would be some wild mixture of Saint Seiya, Slayers, FMA and Soul Hunter. In many notebooks. First one I published would've been for W.I.T.C.H., although the forum it was on ceased to exist a very long time ago. First AO3 fandom was Mass Effect.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'd love to one day have the confidence to write a Discworld fic and sincerely believe it adds anything to the fandom. Ship-wise... look somebody has to write the first Robbie/Guero fic in the tag and I'm not opposed to it being me.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

in spe salus (sw), I think I got Wolffe down pretty well. Although after-school special (angr) has my favourite paragraph in it.

[noirvette]

WE NEVER EXISTED

[band smau]

[FOURTEEN]

masterlist.

prev. | next.

extra.

note: the black italics is Michael singing. The lyrics aren't in order though haha

"You guys out there don't mind if we play a cover right?" Michael calls out to the crowd. The crowd responds with loud cheers.

The guitar strum of 'Black Hole Sun' by Soundgarden starts to fall over the crowd's ears. The crowd cheers in delight at the prospect of this particular cover. From the sidelines as you watch the band; Graveyard Soldiers, your openers for the night play, you couldn't help but get into the groove of Michael's captivating voice.

"In my eyes"

Michael, last name unknown, he keeps it mysterious like that; is the band's front line singer, and electric guitarist. Last member, and from what Kyle told you was the whole reason this band (Graveyard Soldiers, not your band) nearly didn't happen.

"In disguises no one knows"

Pete Thelman, back up singer and plays the bass guitar, you and him had a fun time talking about what were the best bass guitarists of all time earlier. Second member, he was awkward, but overall a refreshing person to talk too.

"Lies the snake"

Henrietta Biggle, lead guitarist and sometimes keyboardist. She kept to herself mainly, but loved to talk to about music with you and Nichole. First member, she started this band to raise money to help find her missing brother. You remember the day he went missing, your band even helped pitch in with money before.

"Boiling heat.. summer stench"

Firkle Smith, drummer; absolute menace. He was scary, intimidating in a way you'd never thought was possible. He was nice, polite when needing to be but you know what they say about how the eyes are windows to the soul... He was the third member to join.

"Call my name"

From the corner of your eye you can spot Kyle walking over towards you, "They're good yeah?" He tilts his head towards the Graveyard Soldiers.

"Yeah! I'm really loving their style, I've heard their eps and now that they got an album, I'm excited to listen to more of their stuff." You gush.

"And I'll hear you scream again."

Kyle hums and you see his face become more serious, "Stan told me that Cartman's worming his way into causing havoc for you, that true Y/n?"

"Won't you come?"

Sighing, you look away from him and back towards the stage, "I really don't know. Cartman's never really interacted with me too much before, now he's tagging me in an update about his podcast? He even called me like four days ago. I'm sure it was a misclick, considering I say his name pop up for maybe three seconds before it disappeared."

"Cold and damp"

"God I hate him so much. You'd think he'd leave us alone, but he uses our band as a way to gather more fame for himself. Miserable bastard."

"For honest men"

You've never really seen Kyle badmouth anyone, sure for Cartman it's warranted and you've heard of the weird friendship they used to have, before it fell apart suddenly in high school. However it's still a bit surprising to you, seeing as Kyle makes it a point to be amicable towards everyone, even if he's not the biggest fan of them.

"In my youth, I pray to keep"

"It's fine, Kyle. He's a dickhead sure and he's the world's biggest attention seeker but that's all he really is. An attention seeker. No matter what he's going to do tonight, I'm not letting his bad mood ruin one of our best nights."

Kyle sets his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, "If he continuously causes trouble for you, let me know. You've helped me out a lot Y/n, let me return the favor. Besides, beating up Cartman is an easy task, it's refreshing seeing him get knocked down a peg."

"No one sings like you anymore...

Black hole sun"

Kyle removes his hand from your shoulder and you can still feel the warmth of his hand. "Thanks Ky, I doubt I'll need you to go extreme like that but if he becomes an even bigger thorn in my side, you'll be the first to know."

"And wash away the rain"

A bemused smirk dawns Kyle's face, "First? To know? Over Nichole?"

You chuckle, "Okayyy.. so maybe not the exact first, but it's the thought that counts? Right?"

"Won't you come?"

"Yeah, maybe when you're not lying.. miss L/n," Kyle teases,.

Your face holds one of mock annoyance as Kyle teases you and as Graveyard Soldiers do the instrumental part of the song you and Kyle just stand there, looking at each other.

"Hang my head... drown my fear... till you all just disappear"

"They're ending soon, make sure to do your last tune in." Kyle softly says.

"Won't you come"

"Got it captain!" You head further in towards the back to quick test your guitars, leaving Kyle to himself.

"And wash away the rain?"

Kyle turns to the band performing as Michael repeats the last lines of the post chorus.

You had decided to not bother checking twitter nor Cartman's podcast episode during the set change, the whole band decided against it, not for a lack of curiosity, but considering set changes were so hectic. You were curious, the nausea feeling of not knowing the answer to any form of a question of "why" eating at you.

You weren't even sure if Cartman had gone live, you doubted it, the crowd was just having a fun time talking to each other from what you saw when you peeked around the curtains earlier. Some people were on there phones but you doubt it was for Cartman.

In all honesty, you didn't need the stress of Cartman in your mind. What you needed was to give South Park the best god damn show you've ever done. You've grown a lot since your last big performance here, hell the whole band has grown.

So instead of giving Cartman another thought, you focused your mind on the set change.

Set changes were annoying, it's why Clyde actually hated having opening bands or opening for other bands like you have done in the past. Of course, opening bands were good in your eyes, it paved the way to allowing the crowd to experience new bands or genres.

"Dude, where did you put my drumsticks?" Clyde asked one of the stage workers in passing.

"Clyde. They're on your seat on stage." The worker replied, you could hear the disbelief in their tone. You couldn't help but feel bad for them.

With that, the worker left and Clyde was standing there like an idiot, but he was your guys' idiot and you had to let him do his own thing.

However, Clyde had a point to complain, the backstage workers going insane as they try and get everything put together properly did take a toll on you even. The quick instrument check before they were put up on the stage by the stage crew. Lights crew making sure they'd have no problem.

You could see Craig was munching on some crackers, having the time of his life knowing all he had to do was go on stage and take pictures of the band and the crowd and then call it a night.

Beside him, Nichole was going insane on making sure the stage looked absolutely perfect even though it'd be too late to change anything right now.

"Y/n! You don't think the stage is ugly right? I've been staring at this one sheer cloth placement that Craig took a pic for me, bless him, anyhow for like twenty minutes. It just looks off to me." Nichole rushed over to you, a picture on her phone that Craig took.

You look down at the picture, "Nicky.. the cloth is fine, besides Craig took the photo at angle look," You gently grabbed her phone and tilted it to the right, that way the picture was centered.

"Oh thank you, I was nervous that it was off center this entire time, I was about to jump on stage to fix it. Good thing I didn't it was just Craig's poor photography skills."

Craig looked at the two of you with a pointed look of "What the fuck" written all over his face; "You know, how about you guys find a NEW photographer then."

"Nooooo! Craig I'm sorryyyyyy." Nichole drawled. And the two started going back and forth.

Kyle looking lost as he ran out of things to do but you could see stress and worry marks all over his face as he ran through every scenario in which the band suddenly had the worst experience performing. Stan not caring about anything, he was really just taking in everything while he was doing last minute vocal warm ups.

You hadn't bothered to say anything to Kyle as he was trying to do something; not because you didn't want to but because you're not even sure Kyle would hear you. Whenever he got into this stressed manager mode (or as Clyde would call it; normal Kyle Broflovski), he tended to tune people out.

Tweek was playing with Craig's camera, or.. a spare. You doubt Craig would ever let Tweek handle his camera. There were three things Craig loved in the world; Tweek, his guinea pigs, and his camera.. but no matter how much Craig loved Tweek that camera did cost a whole lot.. and it was Craig's profession.

The lights were dimming out.. which meant go time. Everyone else paused and got into show business mode. You shook the nerves out of your body. No matter how many performances you did, you doubt that you'd ever go on stage without some sort of performance anxiety.

"Good luck guys! Have fun out there!" You hear Kyle call out as you all start to head out onto stage.

"You too!" Clyde responds before smacking his forehead with his hand.

From the podcast studio, Cartman and Heidi go live.

TAGLIST: @captivq @kimiesstuff @bwljules @the-cooler-kira @1one1person1 @kenny-the-ken @neenieweenie @n0tangeliccc @frogindisguise @revzxn @mirophobic @gonefiishiing @musiclovebot @bootsieboo @bonez4brainz @s0l4riss @1996kj @sweetadonisbutbetter @scinclaitnoir @okarigold

[seirooo0]

Rui lacks in content so much I'm gonna strt crying, anyways take this rui x reader I made out of desperation for rui oneshots

words: 2,806 💀

plot: u sick as fuck and rui takes care of you

gn reader, use of you/your pronouns, also established relationship

What a great day it was for you— was something you wish you could've said but unfortunately, "sick days" exist (you probably forgot about them with how "healthy" you are). Spending the day doing nothing but dreading the headaches and the pain of being sick, maybe you're too dramatic that you'd fit in a theatrical scene but this is what it felt like for you. How long has it been since you last fell ill? It felt like a millennial or it's an exaggeration.

You wouldn't mind having such a day today, but it's so damn boring for you. Nothing to do all day other than resting and eating and resting, or perhaps you're into that if you're such a lazy guy. But anyone with shame in themselves wouldn't use this excuse to skip school, you're not an asshole after all. Clearly, you're worried about what's happening at school right now. Given that you had a test today, but your mother seemed persistent to make you stay in bed. Quite annoying, but it's the motherly nature in her, you can't blame her at all for worrying. Looking dully at the ticking clock, you wondered; how many hours had passed by now? With nothing to do, no sort of entertainment (you chose not to use your phone for health's sake), and you're just literally laying in bed like some sort of corpse in a coffin; motionless as hell.

And either your mom was so nosy that she had to call your boyfriend (weirdly enough, can't she just call dad or you're dadless (I'm sorry)) or one of your friends noticed that you weren't around so they called Rui in to visit you. But right now, all you know is that the purple male is right in front of you, cooking something in the kitchen. You had to drag yourself out of bed just to see who the hell entered, you would've freaked out but then you remembered your mother probably gave him the spare keys that you were looking for for the past 3 months. Standing behind him, you covered yourself in your blanket as if you're freezing to death, and you wondered if it's even enough to warm you up despite the scorching weather outside right now. Rui felt your presence almost immediately by the time you entered, and on his face he wore his signature cat-like grin (something that you always wondered; is he some sort of cat reincarnation or what) "You're awake, or perhaps you weren't sleeping at all? I heard you were sick today, so I came here just to watch over you, dear." He said, and despite his little cat-like grin, you can tell he's worried about you. "And which bastard?" "Don't call Tsukasa a bastard! Do you want me to snitch on you?" He replied with a laugh, honestly, it doesn't make a difference. You kind of wished Tsukasa pretended you existed in school today, but with how much you two hung out together you figured that won't be the case. "What about classes?" "Oh, don't worry about that, worry about yourself first." With his simple retort, you figured he might've skipped classes today just to tend you. You feel a little guilty now, but sometimes you're an ass. You kinda don't care about that, at least he's spoiling you (no shame at all, it seems). Maybe sick days aren't as bad as you thought.

"Come on now, standing up won't do at all." He said, and clearly you could feel some sort of evil teasing intent. And surely enough, without warning he lifted you up as if you're a small little thing (with his height, it's almost impossible you're not at least a few centimeters smaller than him unless) and what's worse, it's bridal style. Anyone who has no idea that you two are in highschool would mistake you two for an old married couple but Rui's uniform is still on, so that's a given. "H-Hey!" "Don't squirm around now, or else I might drop you!" The male laid you down on the sofa, which is fortunately comfortable enough to lay down on. You watched as Rui fixed the blanket for you, neatly covering you up like some sort of delicate, beautiful thing. "Now then… Hmm.. I'm less experienced with these types of things, but I assure you I'll take care of you, okay dear?" You feared he may blow up your kitchen with his limited culinary skills and with how experimental he tends to be, but right now he looks promising. You simply nodded your head, giving him a soft smile that would easily melt his heart but of course, this is Rui. You wished you would've seen him blushing a little more though. "Yeah, but isn't carrying me a little too much? I can walk, mind you." "Fufu~ I just wanted to be as close to you as possible. is that the answer you're looking for?" And like the usual you, his words managed to tug your heartstrings, enough to make you blush. His choice of words and his charm always managed to hit your heart like cupid's arrows whenever he's around. And thinking about him like this makes it feel like you guys aren't dating, that was 4 months ago dear, you already have his heart and he has yours. "Anyway, stay put alright? I'll bring you some tea and some porridge." He said, his figure slowly getting farther and farther away from you and towards the kitchen. You watched him attentively, and it's probably the sickness hitting you like alcohol but you seem to notice every little detail in your surroundings but specifically; on him. The way sunshine hits him that he seems to have come out of a beautiful photograph, his golden eyes shining in the dimly lit kitchen, you thanked the weather with how sunny it is today, otherwise you wouldn't witness such a scene. Everything feels as if it came out of a dream, that it took you a few moments to realize he's walking towards you. And like the observant little shit he is, he always seems to notice your actions the same way you take note of every detail in today's scene. "You always seem to love staring at me, don't you?" He teased, breaking you out of your dreamy reverie of him. His head tilted at an angle as he placed the tray of food on the center table, sitting down next to you. "Can you feed yourself, or would you like for me to feed you?" You can't tell if he's teasing you or if you're really high from your fever, he looked at you awaiting an answer that you can't seem to find in your head. How empty was it at the moment? I doubt you can even think straight. And for anyone who knew you as a complete stranger with no deep knowledge of each other, your prolonged staring could become off-putting. Thank the gods Rui was patient with you, but since you couldn't answer he decided to take things to his own accord. Right now, all you can see is him picking up the bowl of porridge and the spoon, you've already forgotten his question and looked at him in complete confusion. He seemed to notice that little expression on your face. "Well, it doesn't seem like you want to feed yourself. I'll do it for you instead." He said with such a smile, you can't tell if it's a cheeky one or a warm smile, all you knew is that you'd fall head over heels for him all over again like this is the first time you've seen such a man so fine (despite his awful choice of casual clothing and his eccentricity).

Bringing the spoon-full of the porridge, he brought it closer to your mouth (he made sure it's cool enough to swallow down), and with a bit of reluctance you opened your mouth and ate up the food he had offered. He seems to be pleased that you didn't deny it at all. This cycle continued on until the bowl was empty, you wondered how much time had passed because for you, it felt like hours. Handing you the cup of tea he prepared, Rui took the dirty dish and went ahead in the kitchen to wash it. Today seems calming, he wasn't acting out his usual teasing bullcrap which was a little odd. You watched him wash the dishes, weirdly enough you seem to focus on him more than anything today. And you're sure he noticed that from the moment you two had seen each other in the house. Comfortable silence engulfed the both of you as Rui worked on the dishes and you stayed on the couch, sipping the warm tea he had prepared for you. The taste of the porridge was still on your tongue, and if you were to be completely honest it doesn't taste really well. But you couldn't really voice that out, unless you're a cruel bastard or some sort of brutally honest person, regardless you kept those words to yourself. But Rui can tell you didn't like it from the moment your face contort to an expression similar to disgust, and you feel a little bad you wished you could've hid it better the same way he hides every emotion with such a calm demeanor. Upon taking your final drink of tea, you looked back at him and with perfect timing, he's done cleaning the dishes as well. Rui looked back at you while he's wiping his hands, he simply gave you a smile before walking back towards you. You're not quite used to this side of him if you were to be frank. "You act weird today." You said, and you just realized the word choice of yours. How stupid, you thought, you could've said "odd" or anything similar to that. But well, he didn't seem offended by that, rather he just gave you a simper grin as he sat down on the couch (with what's left of an empty space, since you're laying down) "Do I? I don't seem to understand what you mean, elaborate please!" That came out more unserious than what you had expected, but this is Rui after all. And it's not a heavily serious situation, both you and Rui knew that given by the light atmosphere around you two. This time, you actually took enough consideration with your words making sure no sort of misunderstanding happens "You don't seem to be— well… Rui? How do I put it into words..—" And as if he's reading your mind, he immediately replied to you with a knowing smile "You mean the usual teasing and the eccentricity everyone and you know me for?" He looked at you with arms crossed, and you nodded ever so slightly. It feels a little embarrassing to voice that out now. "Well, I figured you're not in the mood for that since you're sick. And don't I throw in some jokes for a light-hearted atmosphere? Did the sickness get to you so bad now, dear?" Oh, and the usual him is back. You smiled at his consideration, though you wanted to say he can just keep his usual teasing around, a moment like this isn't so bad once in a while. Sure, you kind of miss it (even if it's just a single day without it), but it can't be helped now, can it? You let out a chuckle "Maybe? Well, it's a natural thing I suppose." He let out a laugh as a response.

Rui's hand gently landed on your forehead, checking your temperature. He treats you so delicately that you wished it was an everyday experience. You took a mental note of getting sick again some other time for him to dote on you all over again. "Hm, your temperature is still high… I'll go get a wet cloth for you." That was the last thing he said before standing up and leaving you behind. Sounds sad doesn't it? Don't be so gloomy now, he just went to the bathroom to get a basin and a cloth to soak it in water. Generic first fever kit, the same way your mother always does, don't you know that? But knowing you, you're a clingy bastard towards him. It's not a surprise you'd like to be near him almost all the time. And it just became worse with your fever putting you in such a silly little goofy mood that you don't want him to leave at all. Oh, and while you're doing your little monodrama, he just came back and it hasn't even been an hour. Yeah, this is all the work of your fever, sure. And you're not quite sure what kind of expression you were making, but Rui looked at you in amusement (kinda worrying, don't you think?) "Is my brief disappearance such a huge problem that you'd be making an expression beyond describing?" Frankly, you wished he wasn't such a teasing type of guy, but here's the situation you ended up in. You looked at him with a cranky expression and he simply laughed as a response. Watching him place down the small basin on the table, you wondered if this was even necessary at all if you were the type to just sleep off an entire fever and wake up all healthy again. His hands squeezed out any excess water on the cloth before placing it on your forehead, the coolness was enough to make you relax as you let out a soft sigh. He looked at you with a small smile on his face before placing his hand on your head, "Get better soon, otherwise I might start missing you at school." he said, grinning playfully. You laugh at his little statement, kicking him playfully (since he sat by your legs). "Hey, hey!" "I'll be back in no time, I'm a healthy person after all unlike you." You joked, earning a little laugh from the man himself. Rui looked at you with a little coy smile before placing a hand on your head "Well, even so who knows if it'll be worse," He started as he planted a fleeting little kiss on your cheeks, enough to make you flush from surprise. "That's why I want to make sure you're alright so long as you're in my care, dear." His sudden endearment was a sure surprise for you. It doesn't mean he doesn't show any affection though, don't get me wrong, but to see him with such an expression full of genuine love and worry for you is such a dreamy scene. You wished you could see this almost everyday if possible. Sure, you miss his little antics, his teasing, but having something like this for compensation isn't so bad after all. You smiled at his little declaration, letting out a giggle, "I'll be alright, after all my dear Rui Kamishiro is taking care of me." You said, cringing a little at your choice of words. He seems to take that excellently, letting out a soft laugh before his hand (that was previously on your head) breaks contact. Oh how you wished it lasted a little longer.

"Then I'll let you rest, you can call me if you need anything.." He said, standing up and beginning to walk away and as if you were possessed by some unknown force, your hand reached for his, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at you, a little confused and curious. Gathering enough of your thoughts to construct a coherent sentence, you spoke out with what's left of your shame. Is it too much to ask if you simply wanted to be with him? "Stay with me for a little longer.." You managed to speak out after a moment of awkward silence. Rui looked at you, not reacting whatsoever. That simple action made you a little worried that subconsciously, you let go of his hand. But it didn't seem like that was his plan, as he immediately grabbed it again the moment you break contact with it. "No need to act so shy about it, why are you acting as if we're not dating?" He laughed out, before sitting on the floor, next to your face. It may be a way to tease you, perhaps, or he simply wants to be near you as possible. Either way, you smiled at his little gesture of endearment. "Thank you." "Anything for you, dear." Those were the last words you heard from him, drowsiness hitting you like a truck as you slowly fell into dreamland.

And as for how Rui is going to explain this to your mother if she ever found out he skipped school just to tend you, you can find out about that in another time.

I can't take it anymore doggey

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[cws: violent ableism and fantasy racism, anti-indigenous racism mention, dehumanization, abuse culture, implied SA/CSA which did not happen but sure would have looked like it to outside parties.]

-

every single time i see someone talk about how the ancients (more specifically the amaurotines, because they always mean the amaurotines) weren't that bad--sure, their society had a few little problems, but overall they were responsible and compassionate and knew what they were doing, and had a good thing going that shouldn't have been interfered with even internally--i think about them turning the violent death of a grieving coworker's disabled daughter, the events of which they mock him for, into a funny story to share around the water cooler.

i think about how someone in a high position of authority, who was in charge of the legal aspect of her existence--of deciding whether she should be euthanized or not, in fact!--ignored blatant red flags for her being sexually abused when he was fully in a position to help. obviously, as fucked as what was happening with meteion was that was not the case. and hermes, i love you. but holy shit is 'haha yeah i made a little girl servant i have complete power over, and didn't register or approve her existence with the government like i'm supposed to. which also would have involved people looking her over. because she's my pet project :)' a REALLY bad look. people should have been investigating him, and the person whose primary job it was to investigate him went 'oh okay, you're an authority figure and i know you so i'll take your word for it :)'

i think about how that authority figure barely remembered she died or even existed, and thought the idea that she could be murdered or should be grieved at all was an odd little thought her quirky dad was self-harming by making such a big deal out of. i think about the fact that these people preen about their ~vigorous intellectual debates~ and ~constructive free exchange of ideas about society,~ and yet after untold thousands of years this idea is such an utterly unthinkable fringe position that supposedly no one has ever heard of it.

(no shade on hythlodaeus enjoyers but holy shit i do NOT like this man, and this is one of the biggest reasons why. jesus fucking christ.)

like i'm sorry but no amount of pretty parks and sharing and being polite and paying lip service to responsible creation, and speaking nicely to children (sometimes) and meaning well (sometimes), and just generally not being a bunch of malicious mustache-twirling cartoon villains, changes the fact that amaurot was a society of cruel evil selfish bastards who had the power to treat the world like their personal toybox and get away with it. and who are also strongly implied to have been colonizers long before the final days, no less. and it horrifies me how it sails over so many people's heads that the entire point of the Nicey Nice Everyone Shares and Gets Along and is Happy is that it's absolutely fucking terrifying how effective they clearly were at stifling any meaningful accountability, opposition, or reform.

(don't get me started on the take i keep seeing everywhere that the amaurotines are analogous to real-life indigenous genocide victims, oh my god do NOT get me started, jesus wept)

like. this isn't just annoyance over incorrect or kind of insensitive takes. the vast majority of the time when i see people try to defend the ancients, they say with their whole chests a mountain of absolutely horrible things--implied or mask off--about real life issues, and seeing things like this reduced down to 'having a few little problems, but really what society doesn't' is just. upsetting. it is really upsetting and i wish it was not such a constant, and that i could find more people actually talking about the nature of amaurot's fuckery without at best getting immediately derailed into SO YOU'RE SAYING THEY SHOULD ALL BE DRAGGED OUT AND SHOT IN THE STREET, IS THAT IT

all this is to say: setting aside any wider-scale events, it boggles my fucking mind that just for that passage alone the fandom as a whole wouldn't cheer hermes on if he started setting people in his vicinity on fire lmao

[peachesofteal]

Beltane

A Witchling world one shot.

Morpheus/reader Witchling masterlist – AO3 3.8k words Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, brief descriptions of sex, angst, sad feelings, cigar smoking, discussions of death and dying.  Notes: Beltane is the modernized/bastardized/whateverized version of Bealtaine but for ease of understanding purposes I just wrote it as Beltane. Your grief threatens to extinguish your glow, and a new tradition is born in The Dreaming.

The sun was always shining here. Bright and cheery, it filtered through the cottage’s windows, beaming down onto your face every day it rose. Obnoxious. This morning was no different, and you buried your face down in your pillow to try to escape the blinding rays. Maybe if you closed your eyes, you could go back to sleep. You grumbled aloud, cursing the cottage for its stubbornness that has put you in this predicament. No matter what you tried, The Dreaming would not allow you to conjure black out curtains for your room. Let you have a king size bed? Sure. Conjure a whole, freshly tilled garden out back and seeds so you could start planting? Go for it. But black out curtains so you can sleep in? Guess not.

You shove your head back into the pillow when you hear the tapping at the glass, Matthew’s tell-tale knock forcing you up with a sigh. 

“Are you working in the library today?” he asks as he settles on the kitchen table, his usual spot for his morning treat. Matthew has been reaping the benefits of having a recently deceased person living in The Dreaming. You baked, often. You made muffins, cookies, scones, anything and everything, passing the goods out to residents of The Dreaming or leaving them in the library for Lucienne and others. Matthew always got first dibs, flying down to the little cottage past Fiddler’s Green almost everything morning to say hi and get his snack. 

“I am.” You put a blueberry scone on a plate in front of him, and he makes a pleased trilling sound in his beak. 

“Lord Morpheus is in a foul mood.” He advises you, but you shrug. It won’t affect you. Morpheus avoids you like the plague. You tried not to take it too personally, he was a King after all, with an entire realm to look after and care for. You would sometimes probe Lucienne or Matthew about his whereabouts and they would always look at you as if you had grown three heads. 

“Lord Morpheus is incredibly busy with the care of The Dreaming.” 

“The boss isn’t really one for social visits.” 

You had only seen him a handful of times since you came here. He would stop in the library on the days you were working, inquiring about how you were and if you were in need of anything. Sometimes, he would linger after you assured him you were okay, his voice changing from the sharp edge of a monarch to something softer as he asked you if you were ‘settling in alright’. His aloofness confused you, and it was a far cry from the level of intimacy you shared before your death. You were surprised to realize that you missed that level of affection from him, your mind sometimes wandering to the memory of him fucking you open, or his mouth lavishing your clit on the throne, his face covered in your orgasm. Let me taste your light. 

You sigh. Sadly, the only thing he seemed to be interested in lately was if you were ‘well’ and settling in. 

You supposed you were adjusting okay. It’s been months since you died and woke up in a bed with an anxious, starry eyed Morpheus hovering over you, holding you hand. Your fingers find the black pearl strung around your neck as you remember the hushed conversation you had, your grip on his unyielding as he assuaged your fears. 

“So, am I like, a ghost or something?”  “No.” He strokes a soft pattern on your skin, eyes searching yours.  “Am I a dream?” his lips quirk, one corner lifting slightly into a small smile.  “No, witchling. You are no dream.”  “But I’m dead?” 

“Your mortal life has ended. The pearl you wear keeps your mind, body and spirit preserved so that you may exist in The Dreaming, for however long you choose.” 

You did choose. You were not ready to seek whatever lay beyond the end of life; that you knew for certain. Instead of going to what he called the Sunless Lands, his sister’s realm, you decided to stay in The Dreaming. 

“And my magic?”  “Your magic remains intact; however, it is a part of The Dreaming now, just as you are. You will find it different than you remember.” 

It was different. Vastly so. You were surprisingly more powerful, your magic bending and weaving within the frame of the realm, your ability to call upon it eased, the confines of your mortal body no longer a barrier between you and your power. It was intoxicating. You hadn’t expected to retain your magic, let alone have this much unfettered access. 

He trusts you. You concluded with a startling revelation one day as you bent The Dreaming so you could conjure a claw foot tub in the cottage. He could easily stop you from using magic in his realm with the snap of his fingers. But he doesn’t. The knowledge settled in your heart with a light thump, the idea that Morpheus held such confidence in you warming your cheeks with pride. 

Matthew caws, snapping you out of your memory with a jump and you give him an apologetic smile as you get up to pour yourself more coffee. 

“I’m sorry to hear he’s in a pissy mood. I know that probably makes your day hell.” Matthew’s head bobs, his version of a shrug. 

“He’s been worse. At least it’s not raining.” You sigh. You wouldn’t hate a little rain right now. You keep having to conjure giant buckets of water to care for your garden. “And it’s about to be summer in the Waking World, which has been nice. It’s not frigid cold every time I have to go there.” You freeze. About to be summer. 

“Do you know the date?” you ask mildly, the reflection in your coffee staring up at you.  “I think it’s April 27th.” A pang of sadness so strong comes out of left field and nearly knocks you senseless. You can practically hear the echo of your mother and her sisters in the cottage, their weeklong preps for Beltane bringing them together every year under one roof, your grandmother micromanaging them while she forced you to sit and listen to her recount years of tradition. Cétshamhain is your history, child. You’d be wise to listen to it’s lessons. You can feel the smart of tears in your eyes as you close them. Would you have seen them? In the Sunless lands? Did you give up an opportunity to be reunited with your family? Would you just have gone straight to hell? Would they be so pissed at you over the grimoire? You think about everything probably going on at home, the community preparing for the festival, boughs of yellow flowers lining doors and windows. You didn’t have many friends when you were alive, but you were known, and always welcomed on Beltane. Longing thrums in your chest, the feeling so vibrant that it has tears falling down your cheeks before you can get a handle on yourself. Matthew caws, alarmed.

“Hey, you okay?” you shake it off, forcing the wistfulness from your limbs as if you’re stretching out sore muscles. 

“Yeah. Fine, just got distracted. Sorry.” You pop the last of your scone in your mouth and pack up the leftovers for Lucienne. “We should probably get going.” 

A dark cloud of hangs over your head the rest of the day. You tuck yourself into a corner with the stack of miscellaneous books Lucienne handed to you, taking your time finding where they belong. Your mind is stuck, trapped in an endless loop of thoughts of your family, the festival, your own death. Did you make a mistake? Did you sacrifice an eternity of being with your family to stay here? Would this ever feel like home? Your hand grips the pearl around your neck tightly.

“Excuse me?” you jump, startled by the small voice of a dream. A wraith like girl stands a few feet from you, her body translucent like a ghost. You recognize her right away; you’ve seen her many times in The Dreaming. She’s visited your cottage with Cain and Abel in tow. You think you’d consider her a friend, even. You relax at the sight of her face, and she gives you an apologetic smile. “Lucienne mentioned that you might be able to help me find a book?” She gives you the name of the dreamer she is researching, and you motion for her to follow you. 

“Of course.” You locate the volume in question quickly and go to pull it from where it sits on the shelf when she speaks again. 

“Are you alright?” Your fingers dig into the leather-bound spine, and your force breath in and out through your nose. 

“Yes.” The false cheer in your voice is flimsy at best, and she gives you an odd look. “Did you need anything else?” 

“No, this is it. Thank you.” her smile is genuine as she bids you goodbye. “It was good to see you.” she adds over her shoulder, and you return the sentiment. You drag yourself off to settle back into a corner, this time making sure you couldn’t be found. 

You puff the cigar slowly, the cherry and wood flavor of the smoke warming your mouth as you attempt to blow circles from your lips. You had finished up late today, the sun already set by the time you left, and you stumbled upon Merv smoking under a stone archway. Just your luck. You had always liked the taste of a cigar. 

“Like this, kid.” You passed it back and he demonstrated, earning him a laugh as you watched smoke rings disappear into the night sky. 

“Okay, okay. Let me try.” You’re just about to take a pull when the swing of a familiar black coat in the dark catches your eye, and your spine immediately straightens. Merv clears his throat with a cough. 

“Er, hey Boss.” Merv says. Your eyes look down to your feet, fingers still clutching the lit cigar. 

“Mervyn. There is an issue in the library that requires your attention.” Merv stands with a huff, and you hand the cigar back to him with a slight grimace. He grumbles under his breath as he stalks off. 

“Hello.” Morpheus stands stiffly before where you’re sitting, his shoulders high and tight, teeth gnashed together tensely. You chew on the inside of your cheek, the tingling in your nose nearly making your eyes water with the need to sneeze. What’s his deal? 

“Hi.”

“May I sit?” 

“It’s your realm.” Your voice is bitter and rough. He ignores it. 

“How are you faring?” you beat back the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I’m good.” 

“Are you?” You tilt your head in confusion. “You have become a beloved figure in The Dreaming, witchling. The residents are eager to voice their concerns when they fear something may be wrong with their dear friend.” Gossip. He means the residents have been gossiping about you and your terrible mood. Conflict roars in your ears as guilt wars with your sadness. You regret being so short with the wraith from earlier, you hope you haven’t hurt her feelings. 

“I’m fine. Just going through some stuff.” You’re not particularly eager to share how you feel with him. He’s been practically a stranger for months, and now he wants to know how you’re faring? 

“Stuff.” The word sounds foreign as it falls from his mouth. He studies your face for a moment before his head snaps in the other direction, eyes focusing on something far off in the distance, and he stands in a hurry. “I apologize, I must attend-“ you wave your hand. 

“Go. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” You chuckle drily. Something dark flashes across his features before he’s evaporating in a cloud of shadow and you’re alone again. 

The next morning, you are returning from a walk with the wisps when your nose starts to tingle. The sensation jerks your head up, eyes scanning in every direction for the Endless that you know must be somewhere close by. When you step out of the woods and into the clearing where the cottage sits, you’re surprised to see him standing on the porch, waiting for you. 

“Are you well?” he asks as you rest a foot on the bottom step, looking up at him. Something is different. He looks, almost nervous? 

“I am. Are you?” you answer quickly, unsure what to do with him lingering so awkwardly on the porch. 

“I am.” 

“That’s good.” You glance around as the tips of your ears burn. “Do you uh, wanna come inside?” 

“Yes.” You gulp nervously as you gesture for him to step forward, your legs a little shaky as you follow him through the door. It occurs to you that he hasn’t been here since you’ve… upgraded the cottage, so to speak. What if he hates it? What if he doesn’t approve? The cottage is his, it’s a part of his realm. What if he doesn’t want you to change it? You glance around in a panic before closing your eyes to steel your nerves. 

“You have made changes.” Your throat tightens as you wring your hands together and nod. 

“Yup. Ah, just a few. To kind of modernize it. And I wanted a bathtub.” You rush to explain. He nods thoughtfully. 

“I am pleased you are making it your home.” The celestial sparks that are his eyes met yours, and your skin ripples with goosebumps. Is it hot in here? His expression grows somber. “I regret that I have not been able to spend more time with you, witchling. It occurs to me that you may be suffering.” 

“What? No, I’m not suffering.” 

“It is natural to mourn. You have lost your mortal life.” You don’t understand how he knows, but he does. The pulse of sadness beats under your skin. “I wish to ask you if you would spend the evening with me, tomorrow.” You peer up at him slack jawed. Your heart takes off at a gallop, excited, before it comes crashing to a stop. He feels bad for you.  

“Do you pity me, Morpheus?” your tone is flat. 

“No, but I have neglected you. You have been hurting and I… have not been here. I would like to remedy my mistake.” You purse your lips, and shrug. Be cool, be cool. Don’t squeal. 

“Okay. Sure.” He smiles at you, one of his small ones, the kind that only lifts the corners of his eyes slightly, but it still melts you to your core. 

He does not linger after your agreement, departing quickly to attend something in the realm. As he goes, he brings your knuckles to his lips like he did that day you woke up here, the feeling of his touch soothing and igniting something inside your heart. 

You spend your day in the library, performing your usual tasks for Lucienne. Oddly, there are less today than there ever are, but you don’t question it as you’re grateful it means you’ll be able to slip out earlier. 

There’s a note scrawled on brittle paper sitting on your kitchen table when you finally make it back to your cottage. 

Please accompany Matthew to Fiddler’s Green at sunset. I will join you later. 

“Matthew?” you call out. A little caw sounds from your loveseat. 

“Right here.” 

“What’s going on in Fiddler’s Green?” you’re perplexed. What is happening? 

“It’s a surprise.” Matthew says and you immediately become nervous. You hate surprises. You bitch about it as you change, fussing with yourself in the mirror while Matthew tries to assure you that this is a good surprise, and that you’ll like it. You’re still putting up a fight about as you both leave the cottage, the wisps lighting the way in the dusk of the setting sun. 

When you crest the hill that looks down on the valley of Fiddler’s your breath catches in your throat. Your feet become immobile, and you stand quietly in shock, trying to register what is happening. 

“What is this?” You turn to Matthew, your face confused. You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re seeing. But when you do, when you make the connections, your face scrunches up with emotion. 

Your vision grows blurry with tears as you watch the residents of The Dreaming move between large pyres. Music drifts in the air, the beat of drums vibrating through the ground, the voices of dreams and nightmares blending together as one. 

Beltane.

You nearly cry as The Dreaming gives you the honor of lighting the first pyre. The residents gather around, each with their own piece of wood to contribute to it. It’s different from the traditional aspect of the festival, but you love it all the same. You watch in awe as fires spark throughout the valley, laughter and contentment resonating through every single dream and nightmare in attendance. 

You’re breathless. Your cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing, legs tired and weak from dancing in circles between the fires all night. Merv even slipped you some dark liquid that you think was The Dreaming’s version of liquor. You stumble off into the dark, away from the burning fires and raucous crowd, tripping into the heavy wood of Fiddler’s Green. It’s darker here, the pyres raging in the distance, hooting and hollering echoing over the hills. You wipe the sweat from your brow with your shirt, hiking your skirt up to free your legs and cool yourself down.

 “I have been looking for you.” his voice, cool and deep, floats over you softly. The wisps shiver, their soft light flickering, illuminating the Endless who is suddenly standing before you. You lick your lips. 

“Morpheus…”

“Witchling.” You both stand silent before each other, and you’re about to ask him where he’s been when he speaks. “I have something I would like to show you, if you would care to join me?” He holds his hand out to yours, supernovas blinking in his eyes. 

“You did all this for me?” you ask as you walk, stepping carefully on the path to avoid anything that could knock you off course. You don’t want to let go of his hand. Ever. 

“I had assistance.” 

“Morpheus, thank you… it was incredible. I can’t even begin to tell you how perfect it was. It was beautiful… I feel very lucky.” You grin broadly, your exuberance overflowing. The wisps reflect your mood, their warm glow shining more intensely, shimmering in the dark like stars themselves. You feel his eyes watching you, and you grip his hand tighter. 

You stand perplexed as he brings you to a halt outside of the cottage. At first, you don’t notice anything amiss. It’s dark, and your eyes strain to catalogue your surroundings. 

But then you hear it. 

The soothing sound of running water. The wisps brighten, and your eyes find a moss-covered mound, with an opening in its center revealing a small pool. 

“This is a freshwater spring. I am aware you have been conjuring water so that you may nourish your garden. I hope this will ease that burden.” 

“You made me a well. On Beltane.” Does he know? The light trickling sounds of the water fills the silence between you two as you glance over, the knowledge that he holds of every culture, every custom, every ritual blinking back at you. Of course, he knows. “You made me a well, on Beltane.” 

“I did.” And idea sparks in your mind, and you turn, reaching out to touch his arm briefly. 

“Wait right here, please.” Sprinting off into the cottage, you grab the object you need hastily, returning to his side as quickly as you can manage. 

“The first water drawn from a well on Beltane is said to bring luck for the rest of the year.” You dip your mug into the babbling spring, bringing it up full. “Will you share it with me, Dream of the Endless?” The formal use of his moniker feels familiar and true, and warmth coils in your stomach. 

“Yes.” He answers. You lift the china to your lips, drinking the water deep into your soul and then pass it to him. You envision good fortune, for both of you, and push the other potential blessings far from your mind. You supposed you could invoke fertility for your garden, but the risk is too great, the concentration of power in this realm is too strong, and Hecate forbid you end up making that kind of mistake. His fingers brush yours during the exchange, the swell of longing rising in you again. It’s not home you’re sick for this time, but him. He closes his eyes as he drinks, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows. You’re illuminated by the moon and the wisps, the soft light from both casting onto his flawless skin, and you envision it flush against yours. You shift your body away, face moving to a different direction lest you get caught staring, again. Wisps dance in your line of sight, their light momentarily distracting you when he says your name, the inflection impressed with a sentimental fondness that tugs at your heart. 

You turn and realize he’s staring at you, tracing your face reverently as if you’re the only thing in existence. His eyes blaze, the starlight in his gaze captivating, pulling you closer until you’re standing right in front him, the wisps glowing in a circle around you both. 

“Morpheus.” You breathe. 

“I must admit something to you.” 

“Oh?”

“When you first woke here, after your death, you asked me if you had become a dream.” You nod, remembering. “I said you were not a dream, but I am afraid that was a lie.” You startle and look up to him with wide eyes. He places a hand on your cheek, palm cradling your face like you mean something. Like you matter.

“Am I actually a dream, Morpheus?” He shakes his head no, finger coming to stroke the pearl around your neck. 

“You are the dream of an Endless.” His mouth meets yours, and your eyes slide shut instinctively as your body responds, your own lips moving with his, the kiss effortless and tender. As he draws away, stars swirl above you, dropping from The Dreaming’s atmosphere to streak across the rich velvet of the night sky. His hand gently tilts your head upward, and you stand together as he holds you close, the outline of his profile illuminated by the celestial show above. You stay there for what feels like hours, until he presses his forehead to yours and whispers,

“You are my dream, little star.”