#talents aren't supposed to be buried

[herunswithscissors]

Something I wrote to a student today. And I thought it might be handy for others who realized that

You shouldn't stop learning just because there is no teacher or obvious consequences.

____________

If I find out in 10 years you are managing an Olive Garden, I won’t be the least disappointed in you. But I think you will do something different and I’m excited to see what you do with your gifts, the skills you’ve collected and honed, and the mind you’ve built.

Partly because you won the genetic lottery with that amazing brain of yours, but mostly because you put that brain to work and built a mind.

Keep building your mind. You are never done with that.

• Watch Nova. Watch Spongebob. Learn useless stuff. Read novels. Build something. Learn to read novels, listen to music, and watch movies like an artist and you will get so much more out of them. Art & creativity of all sorts is so important to developing your mind. Get on Tumblr and follow a bunch of weirdos to be inspired by and to just get different perspectives on life and this world. Hug a sequoia and listen to the water rushing up inside. Make a LOT of mistakes. Keep trying new things.

• Your mind will follow your heart. Don’t let the money, comfort, and insulation of academic life harden your heart or make you apathetic. Don’t look away from the lines of broken down RVs. Don’t look away from the working conditions of the staff in your institution. Don’t look away from Palestine. God is love and God loves by being present with us in the mess and not looking away from it. God never looked away from Jesus on the cross. That is antithetical to who God is. Notice the unhoused person hiding outside the Starbucks. If it is safe, give them some money for drugs and keep your heart.

• Find scientists, other experts, nerds, and peers on social media and just be yourself (so many of them are super friendly and kind people, but not all so watch your back).

• And stay away from drugs until after your prefrontal cortex is done developing sometime after 25. Go to parties and have fun of course, but your brain is still building itself and the pathways you make now will be very difficult to change. You will need your executive function for grad/medical school and for your calling. So take it easy at the parties and don’t fall into habitual use of ethanol, THC, etc until that brain is done developing.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had long accepted that Carol always came up with the best or the worst idea. There was no in between. But this time, he might have to thank her for telling him about Eddie Munson's talented mouth.

ao3

One night, when they were drunk and feeling funny, Carol had dared Steve to walk up to The Freak and demand the alpha eat him out.

“What’s the reward?” Steve had squinted at her.

“A mind-blowing orgasm,” Carol had wiggled her brows. “I heard Munson is really good with his mouth.”

Steve had snorted and that was the end of the topic.

He knew Carol hadn't meant it and had probably forgotten about the whole thing came the morning.

But every time he ran into Eddie at the school, his eyes would always linger a bit too long on those plump lips.

Carol’s words kept circling in his head like a broken record.

Munson is really good with his mouth.

Steve should’ve known better than to give in to his curiosity (and desire), but by the time he stood in Eddie’s bedroom, blushing and trying to not fumble around like an idiot, it had been too late to back out.

He had suggested the school’s bathroom stall at first, but the alpha just shook his head with a lopsided smile, “Princesses like you deserve to be taken to a bed.”

It was supposed to be mocking, but the way Eddie scrambled up to follow after him like a dog with a bone told Steve everything he needed to know.

So now, with Eddie’s head burying between his legs and hot tongue lapping at his cunt, Steve decided that Carol was right for once.

That mouth was really talented.

Steve had his fingers tangled in the mass of dark curls, thighs trembling and eyes rolling back as Eddie pinned him down and drank all of his slick from the very source.

“Eddie,” he mewled, seeing stars when the alpha licked at his sweet spot.

And then, his stomach tightened, the pulsating heat coursed through him and before he knew it, the blinding pleasure crashed over him like a bull.

It was his most intense orgasm and he was still shaking when Eddie pulled away, eyes dark and heavy with want.

“Again?” The alpha asked, hand stroking his hipbone slowly, temptingly.

Steve should’ve turned down the offer, told Eddie it was just a one-time thing, put on his briefs and slacks and gone on his way.

But Steve did none of that. He just nodded and spread his legs wider, “Please.”

It was all Eddie needed to kiss him on the forehead, “So polite. Such a good boy, aren't you?”

Steve let out a chirp but before he could feel embarrassed about it, Eddie kissed him again. This time, it was on his lips.

“Gonna treat you right, sweetheart.”

And Steve was helplessly charmed.

In hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming a mile away with how eager Eddie had been at his audacious request.

Because after three orgasms being wrung out of him, Eddie just kept going, sucking and licking and fucking Steve’s sensitive pussy with his tongue.

He didn't stop until Steve screamed his name and squirted all over his face, cross-eyed and delirious from the overstimulation.

Steve had been too out of it to register whatever the alpha tried to tell him afterward. When he regained his senses again, he found himself all cleaned up with his briefs on and tucked under a soft quilt that smelled of citrus and cigarettes.

It felt like coming home but Steve didn't want to get ahead of himself so he ignored the joyful purr from his inner omega and let his eyes wander, searching for a certain alpha instead.

As soon as he wondered where the hell Eddie was, the door opened and let the alpha in. He smiled teasingly when he caught Steve staring.

“Back to earth, Harrington?”

Steve frowned. He wanted to be ‘sweetheart’ again. But he just pushed through his sudden discomfort and sat up.

“Yeah, I gotta go,” he didn't bother meeting Eddie’s eyes as he tried to stand up on his wobbly legs.

And yet, he was taken off guard when Eddie was by his side within seconds and gently pushed him back down.

“Wha–”

The kiss was a surprise, but Steve wasn't picky so he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck and let out those happy trills and chirps.

Was he too easy to please? Perhaps.

Then again, Steve wasn't one to turn down his chance and if Eddie decided to give him what he wanted, he didn't see why he shouldn’t take it and run as far away as possible.

“God, you’re so sweet,” Eddie groaned once they parted. “Never taste anything as sweet as you.”

“Liar,” Steve pouted with a haughty sniff.

“I’m not,” Eddie pecked the corner of his lips repeatedly, as if couldn't have enough of him, as if to stave off the endless hunger. “Been crazy about you for years, sweetheart.”

“Really?” Steve arched his eyebrow and bit his lips to contain his stupid smile.

“Really really,” Eddie seemed to give up the charade and kissed him square on the lips again. “Just say the word and I’ll give you everything, baby boy.”

“Then fuck me,” Steve murmured against those plump lips. “And if you’re good, I might ride your knot later.”

Steve knew he had gotten Eddie right where he wanted when the alpha growled and flipped him over.

The next day, he walked to his locker with a limp and Carol just shot him an impressed look.

Honestly, Steve also felt pretty proud of himself.

[kyber-crystal]

red thread || jake “hangman” seresin

summary: fate has a funny way of bringing people together, and it’s made no exception for you and hangman. you’ve grown up together; there's not a day that goes by in which you aren't glued to each others' sides. as kids, you promised each other that if you were still single at 30 you'd get married. but when that day finally arrives, you wonder just how much things will change.

words: ~2.3k

warnings: nothing. unless you’re like me and commitment scares you, then yeah lmao. hangman is an absolute gentleman in this though :) biggest TW is my writing...sorry. idk what happened. some slight mentions of angst and injury but nothing graphic :)

a/n: mannn my writing has gone downhill idk how yall other talented writers do it. i wish i could write that well 😭but, i’m proud of this...plotwise, at least! (my fics are doing so bad for some reason while everyone else seems to be blowing up??? idk) btw, the first part of this fic takes place two years before tgm

It was 1:30 a.m, and you couldn’t fall asleep. 

It seemed that Hangman had the same idea as you as he told you to meet him outside the Hard Deck in five. The coastal air and Jake Seresin was the perfect combination to help you unwind, so of course you said yes. 

“There she is,” he grinned as he offered a helping hand. “My favorite fellow insomniac.”

“Nightmares keep you up, Jake?” you teased. “What’s the matter this time?”

“Same as you. Don’t feel like sleeping yet,” Hangman answered. “Can you believe it? We’re awake, and Fanboy and Payback aren’t.”

“Now that’s a first,” you laughed. “Thought I’d never live to see that day, but here we are.”

“We’re making history day by day.”

“You know…sometimes,” you breathed out as you rested your head on his shoulder, “I wonder what it’d be like if we never met.”

“Didn’t you ask that same question fifteen years ago?”

“We were much younger back then. It’s different now.”

“Well, then…I don’t like to imagine it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Why not?”

“It’d be weird. You’ve always been a big part of my life, so to think you almost could’ve not been in it…it’s weird. Uncomfortable, even.”

“Yeah, it is weird…” your voice trailed off as you lingered on the thought. You’ve always done everything together. How different would your lives be now if you hadn’t become friends; hadn’t stayed in touch through college? “But don’t be sad, because I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

Hangman gave you a light punch in the arm. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

“You know, Y/N…there’s one more thing.”

“Uh oh.”

“Hear me out,” he started. “Remember that deal we made when we were kids?”

“The one about helping each other bury a body if needed, or getting married?”

“The second one…I thought the first was a given since the day we met. That’s something all friends are supposed to do for each other, right? Bury bodies, hide their trails…all that good stuff.”

“What about the second one?”

“We’re turning 30 soon,” he recounted. Any and all traces of cockiness were completely wiped off his face. “And we said that if we’re both still single by the time our 30th birthdays roll around, we’d get married.”

You smiled as you revisited the memory: wide-eyed and curious, and so blissfully unaware with the only worry in the world was whether you’d grow up together or not. “You still remembered all that?”

“Of course I did. You still in, or what?”

“I guess so…I mean, what else do I have to lose?”

The two of you fall back into your comfortable silence, and he wraps you up into his arms. 

TWO YEARS LATER

As usual, the base is busy and rather chaotic: day after day you’re busy filing reports and training. This causes you to become prone to forgetting the littler things in your life, so you assign Bob to keep track of them for you. He had the best memory of anyone you knew—that man kept mental notes of everything. 

“What do I have to do today, Floyd? Any events…”

“Uhhh…” Bob thought for a moment as you took a long drink of water. “Dinner with Phoenix. Do laundry. Don’t get yelled at by Cyclone for the 19th time (You’re only one point behind Bradshaw, he’s at 20). Grocery shopping. And most importantly…yours’ and Hangman’s birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I completely forgot,” you swore under your breath. “How could I forget…”

“You have some time, so don’t worry. Five days.”

“Only five days?” your eyes widened. “I have to run through four more simulations over the next two. I can’t plan everything in the remaining three.”

“If you pay Garcia in Doordash deliveries, he’ll help out. You know he minored in art.”

“That’s…actually not a bad idea.”

After you finish your final exercise that week, you pass out, but luckily, Hangman’s right there to catch you so you don’t get a concussion. Bless that man—he always seemed to be around wherever you went and you were very grateful for it. 

You were delirious and couldn’t walk straight, so as much as you claimed you were okay, he wouldn’t believe you. 

“I’m taking you home because you’re in no condition to be wandering around by yourself. The birthday planning can wait. You’ve tired yourself out enough as it is and you don’t want to make things worse.” So you let him help you get into his car, then drive you home and lead you inside. Then, he forced you to go upstairs to take a hot shower and relax while he cooked up dinner for you. 

Though Hangman admired your determined spirit, it scared the hell out of him because you wouldn’t know when to stop yourself. 

“I got that from you though! Who’s the one I spend the most time around?” you’d claim in response to that  argument. You weren’t wrong—it was a quality you picked up from him many years ago.

You woke up the next morning to the smell of French toast and jam, which lessens the tension in your shoulders right away. Amidst the early morning light drifting through the windows he stands out like a priceless work of art in a museum. You struggle to tear your eyes off him. 

Rubbing the sleepiness from your eyes, you rested your chin on his shoulder and exhaled. “Hey.”

“Morning. You sleep okay? How’s that headache of yours?”

“I’m alright.” You closed your eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of cinnamon sugar. “This smells nice.”

If Hangman was tired, you couldn’t tell. “Woke up at 6:30 to relearn the recipe for you. It’s been a while, it took three burnt batches to get the hang of things.”

“You woke up an hour early to cook for me?” 

“Why else? Of course I did,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat down at the kitchen island together and ate your breakfast in silence. Something about this moment feels more domestic than all the others you’ve shared in the past, and you can’t help but smile. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of eternity like this...

“Y/N, there’s some honey on your chin.”

You blinked, trying to find it. “Where?”

“Hold on a sec.” Hangman took his napkin and rubbed gently at the corner of your lip to wipe it off. For a brief moment, you could feel his warm breath fanning across your face. You stayed as still as possible. “There.”

If anyone looked in from the outside, it was another simple day in the life of a longtime couple. But for you and Jake, it’s always been like this. Showing up at each others’ place wasn’t unusual for either of you; if anything, it was quite normal. 

“...Thanks.”

“Yeah. You got any ideas in mind? For the big day.”

“Whatever you want is what I want.”

“Funny enough, that’s what I was about to tell you,” he replied.” 

You locked eyes with each other and laughed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m sure we will.”

Less than three days until everything as you knew it would change forever...if you were being honest, you were absolutely terrified. What if he changed his mind and left you in the dust, all alone? You weren’t ready to face the cold truth. 

Hangman offered a simple celebration: food and drinks at the Hard Deck with the crew, then some karaoke if you were up for it after. He starts it off by serenading you at the bar, reaching a hand out to you as he sang your favorite Billy Joel track. You let him lead you out to the dance floor and spin you around, and he’s equal parts addicting as he is entertaining. 

Thirty candles, and you agree on blowing out fifteen each—somehow, by some miracle, you manage to do exactly that, and it’s perfect. Then Fanboy yells that he and Rooster want a rematch with you in Just Dance…so you go at it for two hours straight, until sweat is dripping down your face and your sweater grows hot. 

You’re burnt out, and he can see the look in your eyes as you step aside to let Phoenix play. “You want to head out? There’s something I want to show you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He gives Maverick a look, and the captain shoots him a subtle nod in return. He takes this as his signal to put his hand on the small of your back and lead you out the door. 

You can’t help but laugh a little as you get outside. “Is this Mav’s motorcycle?”

“No…” Hangman shifts from foot to foot, feigning cluelessness. 

“Did you steal it?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s his, isn’t it.”

“Look, he let me borrow it for the night. It’s not stealing if he says it’s okay…besides, he never noticed when I did steal from him last week—”

“What did you—do you even have a motorcycle license?”

“Got it a year ago. I thought, ‘maybe I’ll take my best girl on a ride someday, so who knows if it’ll come in handy’. So here we are now.”

“That’s very sweet.”

“Alright, now come on.” He swung his leg over the side and motioned for you to sit behind him. The cushion was not in fact, cushiony, and you found yourself growing colder by the second.

The bike burst forward without warning. You let out a small yelp and immediately wrapped your arms around Hangman’s waist—which was ridiculously firm…had he been working out more lately?—as you went speeding down the road. 

“If I die, I’m gonna kill you and haunt you in your sleep,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket. “Even in death, I’ll stick to you always.”

“That sounds both morbid and weirdly romantic.”

“Shut up.”

Several minutes later you found yourselves by the cliffs, standing high over the ocean, and deja vu hits almost right away. After we go on this make up date, he had said, I’m going to find that guy who messed you up and mess him up. Then we’re going to go home, I’ll let you wear any of my sweatshirts you want, and we’ll watch true crime. One where someone like that jerk dies. Okay? Okay.

You’re miles away from Top Gun, miles away from your jet and your uniform and everything you’ve ever known, but you’ve never felt more at home than now. It’s in this moment in which you realize all you really need in the world is Jake, the sky above you, and the sea below you. 

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed that he’s getting fidgety. He can’t stop stuffing his hands in and out of his pockets or running them through his hair—he’s restless. The action takes you by surprise a bit. 

“Why are you all tensed up?” you questioned. “It’s just me and a nice sunset. We’ve done things like this many times.”

“But it’s not just you and a sunset,” he explained. “I’m supposed to be asking you the most important question of our lives. That’s a big deal, sweetheart.”

Your heart spluttered to a stop. “Are you…”

“Let me finish,” Jake cut in. “If you could be quiet for a few minutes…that would help. I’m nervous.”

“Jake Seresin, nervous?” you teased. “That’s a first.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Give me a break.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be nice…for now.”

“I haven’t slept at all in the past week. I went to eleven different jewelry stores around San Diego but nothing seemed to scream ‘Y/N’. So, I decided to take a trip out of state.” He cleared his throat, and reached into his jacket pocket. You saw his hand shake as he did so. “Out of the country. That mini mission I went on while you were training? I was in Canada. Victoria, to be specific. Maverick and Rooster came along to help out.”

Now in his hand was a small velvet box, and inside was the most breathtaking ring you’d ever seen. “Diamond and ruby. They don’t sell plain red strings for rings…so I had them design this. The red thread of fate…the one that brought you into my life. We were kids when we promised to spend our lives together, if circumstances permitted. And I know we might’ve been young, but I’d be lying if I said I could imagine myself with someone that wasn’t you. There was a part of me that wished you wouldn’t find anyone before this day came along. It’s you, Y/N. It always has been.

“I’m not going to get down on one knee. I’m not going to give you a long, cheesy speech about divine power and soulmates. But I’m going to tell you this: you’re my forever, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It’s getting cold out so I’ll cut to the chase: what I’m saying here is that I’m asking you to marry me.”

The world fell silent as you replied with a shaky nod, holding out a trembling hand as Jake slid the golden band onto your ring finger. Neither of you made a sound, and you swore you felt time stop and the ground crack wide open beneath your feet.

tags, including those who may be interested: @callsignbarb @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @dilfsandtherapy @purelyfiction @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @newlibrary @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @thisismypointofview @ice-mans-world @burnedbrisket @fangirlinc @knowledgefulbutterfly @levis-butterfingers @lunamooncole @coastingline @chaoticassidy @hbstre @fantasias-creativebubble @light-the-moon @winteryoungie @aie1840 @midnightdevotion @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @cosm1cfae @tallrock35 @uwiuwi @elenavampire21 @aerangi @hoedameronsworld @whotfatemywaffles @littlebadariell

[deonsx]

If They Argue With You

Feat: Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo

Not: You are the right side in the discussions here, but he understands this later and is trying to win your heart

Dazai Osamu

You had an argument a day ago and when she suddenly shouted at you, you stopped defending yourself and went to your room, slamming the door, and that night she went out too and didn't come back

You couldn't sleep at night, despite that fight, you thought about where he went at night and why didn't he come back, "could it be?" No, you quickly wiped that stupid thought from your head and went into the living room

The worry inside you grew every hour he didn't come. You were angry with him, but you couldn't stop worrying, where? You suspect that something has happened to because you know your lover, all your worries disappeared with the sound of the key on the door and you continued to watch your movie

Footsteps approached you and sat next to you. silence.. it was so reactionary you got up to prepare breakfast and went to the kitchen pulled back with a grip on your waist he pulled you towards him with his hands and rested his head on your neck "sorry about last night Bella"

his voice was muffled. you wanted to ask him "where were you osamu" did he go to someone else? you doubted your relationship "I slept in agency"

You got the answer that you were unresponsive, but you wouldn't forgive him that easily, you promised each other before your relationship started that you would be respectful and not shout. "Bella please" there was silence "let me cook dinner sit at the table"

This went on all day, giving you hugs and kisse. but you no reaction. if you give him what he wants so simply he will always do it. when you go to sleep he quickly comes to the bed and snuggles next to you he grabs your waist and buried his head in his neck "forgive me I promise I won't do it again"

"my heart is empty without you" the kisses continued you looked at him you ran your hand through his brown locks you tilted, his head towards your hand and he grunted

"Please don't do it again osamu"

"Never.. I promise it won't happen" he kissed your eyes and hugged you tight"

Chuuya Nakahara

You had a fight with your lover and he quickly threw the glass against the wall with his talent, you couldn't believe that he treated you like that and stopped talking. You let silence fill the room. you continued to eat your food in silence but obviously chuuya quickly realized what you were doing

"My love, I'm sorry I didn't mean to do it like that"

he kept staring at you but you remained unresponsive he constantly defended his own boss in the argument and refused to believe you now he's apologizing? he chose to trust her instead of trusting you made him think you were not worth it

"My love, it's just this-" "You don't trust me?" The silence repeated, "You don't trust me! Then what's our relationship worth?"

"you don't understand" you got up from the table and went to bed he didn't come to you during the night he probably slept in the living room

When you woke up, you smelled the smell of food, you walked slowly into the living room with your hair messy and saw your boyfriend with messy orange hair. With his hair tied up like a ponytail, your boyfriend cook all the meals one by one. he is a really good cook

when he saw you she smiled quickly "good morning my love" you wanted to ask his "you at home? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" he gave a warm sigh and took off his kitchen apron and sat down at the table "I quit" your eyes opened “you quit?"

“I left because I didn't want to fight with you again, youre right”

I wanted to cook our dinner this morning so you can forgive me so you can give me an idea of ​​my cooking? he grinned and spoke. you chuckled "let's see how many points you cook"

Ranpo Edogawa

You had a fight with him because you felt that he didn't pay enough attention to you and he was too fond of his job, sometimes he wouldn't even come home at night, and you were waiting for him at home at night. This has been about 1 month, he hasn't written anything about whether he will come to you like this or not

Even if you called him, he didn't pick up, of course you didn't think he was with someone else. but when you asked him why you didn't pick up the phone he said "I'll get stupid if I look at the phone too much" this indifference was driving you crazy but you didn't say anything

You waited for it to end for 1 month, but it didn't,he was always in the place called "agency", he came morning and night, but he went back 3-4 hours before you wake up and he is chaotic these days

you couldn't stand it and one night you decided to go to the agency, put on a nice formal outfit and got in your car and drove by opening the location. In the end, he was where he was every night for a month, he didn't introduce you to anyone, you just knew where he worked

You entered the apartment and climbed up the steps until you saw the door. you knocked on the door but no one opened it, you hesitated about whether to go in, what were you thinking when you came anyway, your mind was full but everything was disappearing.you finally got rid of the thoughts and you opened the door everything was dark but on the right there was a yellow light leaking from the slightly open door

you took your steps towards the light and when you looked through the doorway you saw a woman with ranpo a purple haired woman whose clothes looked like a doctor they looked like they were talking to her about something important but a thousand thoughts came to your mind but you thought you should be respectful and you knocked on the door all eyes turned to you "s/o?"

"Sorry, I was worried about you and I came..." he interrupted, "I always tell you not to do something stupid like that."you ran out of the apartment

the rain got you wet by the time you reached your car your hair was already wet you got in the car and started the car you paused with your boyfriend banging on the window his voice was muffled by the rain "s/o open the door, let's talk a bit" you thought about whether or not to open the window "tell me here" your eyes were full of tears "s/o. .please open the door, let's talk, I don't want argue”

the rain water was quenching him quickly "1 month ranpo.. you haven't given me any explanation for 1 month and when I come to work I see you with a girl friend but you shout at me instead of explaining"

"My colleague Yosana sure doesn't mind such things I told him about you and he knows you please open the door"

"You don't seem to care about me or you feel that way I can't take it anymore Ranpo" "We've been on a job for a month, you're right, I should have explained" the rain started to stop

"Please let's talk about this when you get home. be kind to me" you got quiet, unlocked the door and ranpo sat next to you, talking at length as you made your way home

Request Are Open

[theidiotwhowrites]

𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑨𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒕

𝐵𝑦𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑦𝑎 𝑇𝑜𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑖 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Equals

(Story is related to this post I made, lol Togami won by a landslide)

Warning;

Rude comments, Classism, Pre Despair Arc, Reader comes from a financially unstable household (broke), Rivals to lovers (slow burn?), Reader with a fencing background, Slow start, Arguing, Multipart. Kinda petty Reader (Aren't we all tho?)

You have been warned

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

Hope's Peak Academy

was the most prestigious private institution where anyone could go to, fortunately, you were accepted but for you, it was a bittersweet moment.

Everyone praised you all you could think about was leaving your life behind.

Fencing is what you had that didn't let you down and now it would have been thrown aside.

You finally felt like you did something, made your family proud but it didn't feel right.

All those days you've practiced for your upcoming tournament felt like a waste.

Sleep, School, Fencing, Rinse and Repeat It was routine, the thought of breaking from it didn't sit right with you.

It wouldn't for anybody, yet. You were supposed to be grateful and not "whine" about it but how could you when what you held dear was getting stripped away you weren't an Ultimate with a mind-blowing talent; Ultimates are what the school called their most gifted and breathtaking students,

(Your fencing skills weren't all that)

Unlike them it didn't change lives, it didn't inspire hope and technically you also weren't a 'Proper Reserve Course' student by definition, being that you didn't pay your way in.

Maybe the school's leaderboard took pity on you and accepted you only because of your academics.

Maybe they have an ulterior motive.

Nobody Knows.

Standing in front of the tall building, blue pillars from behind peak out catching the corner of your eyes.

You walk through the gates but that was 2 months ago...

Now you lie awake in your dorm, boring and plain are the decorations. The only spark it has is what you added which wasn't much since you weren't able to.

The days passing by started turning into mirrored images of the last.

It is better than wondering about what you were going to eat today or if there's any water or something added to the unpredictable chaos of poverty.

You weren't your class's top student.

(mostly given that the ones that were bribed the teachers into giving them better marks)

Or had close friends of any kind from the school.

You simply laid low. Invisible.

Staying in the background, with the spotlight never gracing your face for no longer than a second...

...Till...

The speakers called your name. Echoing throughout the empty halls. The stares from the others you didn't see, you felt, buried in the back of your skull.

All eyes were focused on you while you packed your things and said your temporary goodbyes.

Sprinting, you rush towards the headmaster's office. Slowly knocking on the door, opening it with shaky hands.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble" Says the headmaster; Jin Krigri, next to his right sits another man one that's quite unfamiliar,

"Before your arrival, the school did a background check on you as we do with all our students."

He shifts his chair

"And I was informed that you had done extracurricular activities. So to make you feel more welcomed, I took it upon myself to give you that chance again".

Endorphins filled with excitement lace through your veins. This was your redemption, a second chance. The thought of it makes you wanna shout for joy. You felt like you were overflowing with bliss and swimming in happiness.

If you signed up, another competition would be in your grasp. To be able to do what was taken from you. Being awarded, adored, standing in front of a stage whilst the crowd cheers for you, holding a medal you earned.

It's almost too much to bear.

Almost.

"Why?" You question. It didnt make sense, there has to have some repercussions. Opportunities like these don't come without them. There is something that lurk beneath such a pretty offer.

A faint smile crosses the stranger's lips as Mr Kirigri speaks up again.

"I did expect that you are a smart student after all. In return, all I ask is if you continue your fencing journey with a new coach..." He gestures to his right.

"Coach Tsukuda" The man interjects, standing up from his chair before calmly walking over, and putting one of his hands in front of him.

Hesitantly, you shake it.

Mr Tsukuda's, hands are rough to the touch, lacking any moisture with it. Bumpy like an unrepaired road, It's an unpleasant feeling against your own but you don't feel the need to decline.

To not be impolite, of course.

"It's is a pleasure to meet you," He remarked.

"Ahem" Mr Krigri clears his throat, drawing attention back to him.

"As I was saying, if you choose to make the conscious choice to accept this proposal by joining our fencing club, all I ask in return is if you compete in a tournament overseas with your fellow members, you as well as them to talk about the school in a positive light. Too nudge our reputation in the right direction."

He puts heavy emphasis on the word right.

In other words, Mr Krigri wants you to make the school look good. It was nothing short of unsurprising. Playing only a pawn in the time-consuming game of social climbing.

You agreed to such conditions. Being the school's talking puppet for a moment in time is better than the constant agony of boredom and longing for excitement. Some may disagree but it is a price willing to be paid.

The next day painfully went by.

Seconds turned into minutes.

Minutes turned into hours and at this rate, you felt like you were going to rip your hair out by the roots as the hands of time perceived to move slower and slower and even slower.

The bell rings, ending your torment.

Lazily, you turn the metal handle mounted on the wooden door, walking inside.

Yanking the strap of the duffle bag, destined to be forgotten before today, pulling it over your shoulder, leaving from whence you came.

Hope's peak was undoubtedly beautiful. A perfect muse for photography. However its only flaw are the stairs, You trance your index finger over the matte black railing. It is such a tedious experience but how else were you going to get there?

After what feels like forever, you stand before the Gymnatorium.

The temporary room for the fencing club. It calls your name like a siren song.

Spacious

It's the first thing you notice, the room is elegant yet simplistic. Gym equipment is neatly placed in the corners of the room.

Everyone talked in their own flock, mingling with their friends. Selectivity amongst others. Everyone except one.

Silently reading on a bench with a scowl on his face. Blonde hair falls to his face as a white-gloved hand fixes his hair. For a second they look up, his eyes connecting with yours.

The door behind you creaked behind you, ripping you from your thoughts. Making you look at the source of the sound

Coach Tsukuda stands in front of the door, he signals you to come closer. A sense of unease washes over you.

"You're here," He says, his voice lacking surprise, simply pointing out facts. He pauses to think of his next words.

"How good would you say you were at fencing before now?" Odd.

You shrugged. Doubt clouds your next judgment.

You thought you were good but are you?. Are you actually or were the people you were surrounded with weren't any better? Questioning your abilities.

"I don't know, good I guess" Was your response. Being humble about your talents. Maybe they were good but I didn't earn you a title. You still weren't an ultimate.

"Why do you ask?" You added. Not really sure where he was going with this.

"I've been thinking. That's our best fencer-" Coach points at the blonde on the bench, who continues to read. Not noticing that he is the object of your conversation.

"He thinks he lacks any competition and truth be told he's not wrong and you haven't showcased your skills to me, go and put on your gear, I'll be back to you in a second"

You oblige. Putting on your gear you notice, it's tight.

You are still able to move somewhat comfortably but it feels strange. Perhaps it's from the length of time you haven't worn it or you just need a new one. You toss your uniform in your bag.

Out of the changing rooms. You see Mr Tsukuda who stands next to the boy on the bench, signalling you to come towards them. Well, he's off of the bench now so you can't call him that anymore. You should ask what his name is.

Standing on the safety mat, it's a peculiar feeling under your shoes.

Mr Tsukuda's gestures to you

"This is who you will be fighting against, nothing drastic, best of five hits. "

The coach steps to the side and steps forward, to the boy.

He looks you up and down. Sapphire eyes studying your body. Judging every inch of you.

The tension is thick. To distract from it, you try to introduce yourself.

"Uhhh, Hi my name is-" Try, he cuts you off.

"I know who you are, I have not the energy to entertain this discussion you plan on conjuring with me, commoner. Let's get this over with. You will lose either way."

His tongue is razor sharp, cutting into you, deep. Dripping with disdain.

What is his problem? Did he wake up on the wrong side of life or something? He had not only rejected your advances but as well as insulted you in the same breath.

Tough Crowd.

So sure that he's better. It doesn't matter to you who does but now you want to, to win, simply push it in his face. To mess with his sense of arrogance.

You scuff at his remark. Glaring at his monotone expression.

He grabs what seems random to be a random épeé however it has an interesting design, one you haven't seen before.

Like any sport fencing has rules, mostly with its equipment. Every fencing sword has its own set of rules. Foil, only being able to touch your competitor's torso. Saber, allowing you to hit your opponent's waist up, only. However, the Éppé is the easiest to remember, having free range.

Grabbing your éppé, you get in a stance. He makes one last swift movement as he puts on his mask.

"Start!" The words echo through your ears. With a quick pace, he lunges towards you. You raise your blade. Swords clashing together, stepping back. Maintaining momentum, dodging his attacks. The tip of the blade touches your chest. "I suggest you give up, to prevent the shame of your inevitable loss."

"Shut up...." You mutter under your breath, he seems to be getting to you. "En garde!"

The contrast of your outfits becomes more clear. A dry taste fills your mouth. Adrenaline rushes through your brain. Under your gloves, sweat drips from your palms. Your next moves are calculated. You swung, A slash against his waist stops him in his tracks. Gaining you a point.

"Wanna give up?" You taunted, mocking his previous statement.

You can hear his teeth clench under his mask as he makes his next attack. You move your blade. Determined. Both blades swing left to right.

Your eyes scan over the room, glassed over. The sleeves feel like they dig into your wrist.

Faces close to each. Weapons stranded against each other. Looking for an opening. A thud rings out, as he lands to the floor. The sound of your heartbeat fills your ears.

You hit him with one final strike, and simultaneously the metal of the sword hit your leg with force.

"Take a break" Coach says.

He gets up from the floor, brushing the dirt off of him. Dropping it without a care, leaving.

Your hands feel sore to the touch. He comes to a sharp halt. Standing there before he utters. For the first time in his life, he has met an equal. A person on the same level as him.

"Byakuya Togami...."

"Excuse me?" You say, taking off your mask.

"Byakuya Togami.....it's my name, considering you asked earlier. However, do not think for a moment this means I am willing to fraternize with you."

Oh....So he's not so cold after all?

... To be continued ...

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

Should I continue this?

I can't believe this took me a month, it feels like nobody write about fencing even though it's such an interesting sport and I say this purely off research. Where I live we don't have that so I have no prior experience.

And when people write about fencing in media, it's very overlooked. It's kinda like a place holder for time rather than the main plot point but whatever.

Also shout out to the people who supported me on this long adventure. (You know who you are)

Thank you for reading, it is really appreciated. (◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[prettypei]

hi i'm here to request again! may i have another drabble with gojo, choso, yuta, kashimo and kamo! could you please write about how he accidentally discovers that gender neutral s/o is a good singer and used to be in an award-winning school choir? thank you!!

some context: s/o doesn't like to brag or even care enough to behave like that, so he isn't aware of the fact that s/o is an all-rounder and has many hidden skills and talents! (it's all thanks to their hardworking, passionate nature but also having countless hobbies due to their curious personality)

oh i just remembered... regarding the previous request, gege once said that gojo is canonically good at everything so he doesn't want to be too involved or attached to things. i think it's safe to say that he's actually good at cooking hahaha

plot: them with reader who's good at singing; fluff

reader: gn! Reader

characters: gojo, choso, yuta, kashimo, kamo

warnings: kashi’s is a bit angsty at first

a/n: HI ANON!! Your requests are so cute to write yayaya! Fun fact: I was in the school choir in elementary! also I want to believe that gojo is vulnerable in some aspects of his character so he doesn't get too cocky LOL but I'll keep that in mind so I can write more accurate reqs :3 also for those who want to request in the future: this is the last post I'll accept with five characters since this was submitted before I changed my rules!!

✰GOJO

Normally, Gojo doesn’t press his ear to others doors, but normally, Gojo doesn’t hear a lot of amazing singers singing live. Gojo was at your apartment, and he wanted to give you a fright since he was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago, but now, he’s entranced by your voice. At first, he was shocked by your amazing voice, because, could someone really be that perfect? Attractive and a good voice? He just won in life! "Baby?" Gojo coos while knocking on the door. There's a reluctant pause before you open the door. "Gojo? Aren't you supposed to be gone?" You try to hide your bashful face with the brush in your hand. "Not the point, where did you learn to sing like that babe?" He smiles. "Well... I used to be in xxx choir.." Gojo's eyes widen in surprise as he feigns a dramatic gasp. "You mean... like the one who won the national competition?" "Yeah that's the one." You answer nonchalantly, as if it wasn't such a big deal. Gojo then wraps his long arms around you, mumbling about how "my baby's so talented" and "I have such an amazing partner". "Stop that, weirdo." You giggle while burying your face in his chest. "What else are you hiding from me?" Gojo's eyes twinkle as he says those words.

✰CHOSO

Choso should not have came here. You had reassured him that "It's fine! Go out with your family once in a while babe" but in reality, he preferred to spend some time with you. But when he brought this up to you, you said that you had something busy tonight. Busy? What did you have to do today? Animal Shelter? No, that was on Thursday mornings. Coffee Shop? No, that was on weekdays. Cheating? Choso feels guilty for even thinking about the idea of you cheating on him, but you had just disappeared so mysteriously that he didn't even have the chance to question you. So now, he's at a bar with his brother. "Choso! Have you tried the food here? It's delicious." Itadori grins while holding up a can of coke. "...no, not yet." Choso mumbles halfheartedly. "mic check, mic check!" The whole club goes silent as the manger steps up on the stage. "Hello! Welcome to xxx club! Can I hear a big round of applause from the audience?" The crowd around him erupts in cheers and Choso covers his ears. "Welcome, all! So today, xxx club has prepared a lovely guest that has been in high demand since the start of the year! Lets welcome... (name) from xxx choir!" Choso swears that his mouth fell to the ground as you waltzed onstage with a microphone. What? You're a singer? He's still in disbelief...and he loses it when you start singing. Choso had never head such beautiful singing in his life before... okay maybe it might be the fact that you're his s/o but still! The crowd erupts in cheers as you take a bow. In that moment, Your eyes meets Choso's and you give his an almost secret wink. Choso's whole face is red as he tries to hide his face with his hands. You and him were definitely gonna have a little talk tonight.

✰YUUTA

"I hate escape rooms..." You mumble while clutching onto yuuta's arm. "You were the one who suggested this for date night, remember?" Yuuta chuckled. “Shut up… and wipe that smirk off your face!” You hiss. “I’ll go find clues in this room and you go look for ones in another room, Kay?” Yuuta suggests. The bth of you split up, and you find a key. You rush to find your boyfriend, but… “BOO!” “AHHHHHH!” Yuuta falls to the ground, belly-laughing as he just gave you a heart-attack. “WHAT THE HELL?” You shriek. “You’re so-!” “I know, I know.” Yuuta smirks before grabbing the key from you. “Let’s head to the next room, shall we?” The both of you unlock the door as Yuuta starts flipping through the cabinets. “(name), I think-(name)?” He turns his head, confused to see no one. All of a sudden, he hears a creepy singing behind the door he came from. Its high and weird, like a little girl speaking, which does definitely not sound like your voice. Although the singing is good, he’s too creeped out to appreciate it, so he takes a chair in self-defense and opens the door, surprised to see you. “(name)?? B-but y-your voice-“ “I have many talents yuuta.” He shudders as you speak in that voice again. “Where did you learn how to sing like that though?” You shrug mysteriously. “Let’s head to the next room, shall we?” You tease before giving him a kiss on the cheek. Damn, he loves you.

✰KASHIMO

Kashimo doesn’t doubt you. He really, really doesn’t but when you had signed up for the national singing competition rather than the city one first, he asked you to think twice before going onstage, the biggest performance of your life happening in 5 minutes. “Kashi I’m gonna be fine!” You reassure him. “(name), I mean this in the nicest way possible, don’t go.” It was then when he knew he struck a nerve. “Kashi, can’t you just support me for once?” You mumble. “I just…” he grits his teeth as he musters out the words. “I just don’t wanna see you get hurt. I’ve done the same thing before… rushing into battle before I’m prepared… and I paid the price. I don’t.. wanna see it happen to you.” You eyes soften instantly as you press a kiss on his cheek. “Kashi, I’ve trained for a long time… plus you’ll be here for me right?” You grin. “(name)? You’re on.” A staff member pushes you onto the stage and all Kashimo can do is pray that you won’t get hurt. But as soon as you start singing, Kashimo knows, he knows that his worrying was for nothing. You sing like a bird flapping its long and delicate wings, spinning and spiriting into the wind, as if it was really where you belonged to. He watches in amazement as you channel your voice to the highest note, the whole crowd screaming as you do. And as the judges clap and the audience cheers, a certain someone pushes the guards away and engulfs you in a tight hug, to show you how much you meant to him.

✰KAMO

“Kamo! I bought your favorite…!” It’s pretty funny seeing your once stoic boyfriend be reduced to a sniveling mess, but you can’t help but feel pity for him. “Babe *sniffs* s’ okay, I can do it myself-“ “Say ahhhhhh…” you tease as you serve a spoon into his mouth, airplane style, earning a blush from him. “Shut up…” He hissed. “I’ll go cook some more chicken soup, Kay? Gimmie a sec.” You left his side to serve another bowl, and that’s when Kamo heard the most beautiful melody of his life. It was bittersweet and kind, a smooth mixture of love and…home. When had he ever felt at home before? Probably only with his mom or you. Sure, his eyesight was blurry and he has a raging fever, but he’s pretty sure that that wonderful melody is coming from you. “(name)?” He whispers when you come back. “Hmmm?” You sigh as you feed him another spoon. “Can you sing that melody you were humming again? It was…nice.” You nod as you start humming along to the tune, head bobbing up and down. Perhaps being sick wasn’t so bad after all.

[hello-nichya-here]

Girl.... Imma need all the tea abt Michael's brothers being leaches.

I do remember that one of them said that there wouldn't be no Michael Jackson without Jackson 5. BFFR. omg.

Just look at Spotify monthly listeners. I tend to compare artists who debuted at the same time and if they are still alive or not.

Marlon Jackson: 945

Jackie Jackson: 1'180

Tito Jackson: 15'148

Jermaine Jackson: 771'648

The Jacksons: 2'862'021

The Jackson 5: 8'607'046

Michael Jackson: 43'067'506

I know Spotify listeners aren't everything in terms of success or talent. Just look how Selena Gomez supposedly has more than Beyonce. But here I mean the gap is huge.

And the fact they NEEDED him for the Victory Tour otherwise no one would have showed up.

...Anon, I'm gonna be honest here, I completely forgot Jermaine wasn't the only of MJ's brothers to try and have his own solo career. And it says a lot that even though he was the most sucessful of MJ's brothers, he was nowhere near as relevant as he wanted to be - let alone as relevant as Michael.

Also, I know that showbusiness is cruel, especially to child stars, and the music industry is super unfair and buries really talented artists while promoting others that are not even good - but lets not kid ourselves here.

Like you said, the very fact that they had to drag him into that tour to make it relevant already says a lot - but there's even more to that. Michael decided, on his own, that this was going to be the LAST tour, and announced it at the last concert, without discussing it with anyone. He didn't just quit, he essentially ended the group.

They tried to carry on without him a few years later, and it went nowhere because nobody cared about them if Michael wasn't there. Meanwhile, he had random dancers/back-up singers stand in for his brothers whenever he'd ocasionally perform "his" old songs, and nobody except their mom ever complained. I strongly suspect some people didn't even notice - first time I watched some of the performances of the Bad Era, I sure didn't.

They had a reunion in 2001 - in some concerts to celebrate MICHAEL's career, with a moment dedicated to some Jackson 5/the Jackson's hits. They tried for a reunion and their own TV show in 2009 - the same time Michael's final tour was supposed to happen. When Michael died, all the interest in the projects of his brother's died too, with their proper reunion only happening a few years later... in a tribute to Michael.

But by far the biggest evidence that Michael didn't need them was Motown 25. He performed with his brothers, and even though he was obviously the star, they were still great, truly fucking awesome, you can clearly tell they are all giving it all their talent and energy.

Then he performed Billie Jean and did the moonwalk without a breaking a sweat and it was like his brothers never existed. Their big moment was Michael's warm up, and his big moment had him on stage by himself, singing the biggest hit of his SOLO career, overshadowing everything that came before it.

The only one of his siblings that ever managed to not be in his shadow was Janet. And even then, despite being HUGE, she was not KING OF POP huge. Probably because literally nobody else, before or since, could do what Michael did.

For fuck's sake, look at "We Are The World." Pretty much every famous singer of the decade was there, every single one of them giving it their all - and Michael is still clearly the star, because he wasn't just better than his siblings, he was better than everybody.

And I think that's the reason why his brothers never fully let go of all their envy. Pretty much everyone in that family exploited Michael for his money/relevance, but since his brothers were once his bandmates, they felt full on entitled towards not just Michael's money, but his career in general - because their time as a band was the most sucess they were ever gonna achieve, but it was quickly becoming just "Michael Jackson's early years, when he was not as famous as he is right now, but was already way more famous than his brothers will ever be." They were dependent on him, and were now being told "No, he won't let you all tag along forever."

Hence them demanding to be part of "Off The Wall" and getting mad when Michael didn't let them, making him tour with them singing the band's biggest hits instead of doing a tour for Thriller, fucking raiding his house for valluable stuff, using his money to buy mansions for themselves and raise their kids/pay child support, claiming that if things had been just slightly different their own solo careers totally could have been just as big as Michael's, etc.

It wasn't just that their sibling slowly became way better than them and eventually didn't need them to be sucessful. Michael NEVER needed them. He was always the star, the one people were more interested in, the one with the most talent, and eventually he realized that, if he continued letting his family pressure him into ignoring his own goals and focused on "paying his debt to his siblings (and father)" he was at best going to be held back forever so his brother's could stay relevant at his expense, and at worst he'd ruin his own career completely just so they could all fail together and his brother's egos would be spared.

Again, see how HE basically ended the band (or at least the version the public actually cared about). To them, it wasn't Michael going solo, it was him kicking them out. Like they would have TOTALLY made Thriller with him, or could have each done it on their own. Like his solo works are theirs by extention just because they used to do things as a group, and therefore they deserve the profit and the credit for something they were not involved in.

Joseph, of course, did not fucking help make the situation any better. I already mentioned all the physical abuse he put his children through during reharsals, but there's one more thing: he'd sometimes deliberately compare his other sons to Michael when they made a mistake while dancing or singing, to make them feel worse about themselves for not being as good as their brother. OBVIOUSLY that led to a ton of misplaced resentment towards their sibling for them, and to Michael feeling guilty about something that wasn't his fault.

Joseph is also the person who taught them their very warped idea of "family." He had always said that family was the most important thing in the world - because he was one of these parents who believed that, since he was responsible for them being alive, they owed him literally EVERYTHING and thus had to put up with EVERYTHING.

He wanted to beat them with a belt whenever they did anything wrong? They should just shut up and endure it, it's just discipline, and they wouldn't be going through that if they could just do what they're told.

He wants to control their careers, have "his share" of their money, and then use said money to cheat on their mother? Doesn't matter, he is still the man of the house if he's not the one making the money, and thus they owe him respect and shouldn't meddle on what he does with his life.

Michael is clearly depressed about all the trauma he was put through and the childhood that was stolen from him? Oh please, he should be thankful that he was made to work like a dog for most of his life, it's the thing that has allowed the whole family to live not just comfortably, but luxuriously - with his money. That he totally only made because of Joseph, so they really don't owe anything to Michael.

It's really no surprise that, after being raised by that man, Michael's brothers turned out the way they did. Their complaints were "God, he told me to buy a smaller house since I can't afford a mansion instead of buying said mansion for me, the watch he gave me for my birthday is only worth ONE million dollars instead of two, and he will only let us do a medley of our Jackson 5 hits during his show, not tour with us again, how selfish!" meanwhile Michael was complaining that since everyone, including his own family, was only ever thinking of how being close to him would benefit their image/lead to them making money, he was incredibly lonely and miserable.

Nine times out of ten, Michael helped his family out of "obligation" - because that's what they turned their relationship into. A transaction, a contract. Michael "paying his debt" to people that cared about his money and fame so much that they often forgot he was a person that, even after all they did, STILL loved them.

But I guess "We are totally responsible for his sucess, and in fact could have totally been just as famous" is a much more pleasant version of the story than "We completely failed our brother, and we should thank God everyday that he never fully broke free of this AWFUL family, because otherwise we'd be broke and even more irrelevant."

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 1: Waiting

Only way to get back into my groove is to post as often as possible so let's do this! As always, people who hate spoilers (for this book, for this series, for everything that has ever or will ever exist) should not Keep Reading.

This chapter begins with the ravens icon because it features gratuitous abuse of corvids.

The land seemed to be waiting. Waiting for something to burst.

The land and Rand being one and all, presumably it's waiting for Rand himself to snap and go on a solo adventure.

He sniffed the wind without thinking. The smell of horse predominated, and of men and men’s sweat. A rabbit had gone through those trees not long since, fear powering its run, but the fox on its trail had not killed there. He realized what he was doing, and stopped it.

I really "enjoy" how we jump from Perrin whining about Moiraine holding things up and having a tight grip to Perrin holding up his own character arc with a vicegrip. I do feel like our boy will be making subtle progress this book, at least.

They were not as tall as he, nor as big—years as a blacksmith’s apprentice had given him arms and shoulders to make two of most men’s—but he had begun shaving every day to stop their jokes about his youth. Friendly jokes, but still jokes. He would not have them start again because he spoke of a feeling.

I would think the best way to avoid accusations of youth would be to keep your facial hair but maybe Perrin's still in that patchy phase. You can really see just how tightly strung he is that even friendly jokes from dudes he's been traveling with for months get to him.

“It has to report. To a Halfman, usually.” In the Borderlands there was a bounty on ravens; no one there ever dared assume any raven was just a bird. “Light, if Heartsbane saw what the ravens saw, we would all have been dead before we reached the mountains.”

Of course, if the Halfmen were at all clever about their shadow jumping then they'd be able to significantly narrow the delay in response times. That said,

“Too long for horseback,” Masema sneered. The triangular scar on his dark cheek twisted his contemptuous grin even more. “A good breastplate will stop even a pile arrow except at close range, and if your first shot fails, the man you’re shooting at will carve your guts out.”

It's good to see that months of hanging out have done absolutely nothing to make Masema more likable. Fain's handiwork is alarming with how well it sticks.

The Shienarans knew how far he could see, but they seemed to take it as a matter of course, that and the color of his eyes, as well. They did not know everything, not by half, but they accepted him as he was. As they thought he was. They seemed to accept everything and anything.

Their open acceptance of Perrin and his talents really only makes his reticence all the more frustrating. It's not like he's among the Aes Sedai who might try to gentle him or among the Whitecloaks who'd try to kill him. Dude has possibly the best support network in the world and he still tries to bury everything.

Ragan’s topknot waved as he shook his head. “A Tinker wouldn’t be mixed in this. Either she’s not a Tinker, or she is not the one we are supposed to meet.”

Okay I guess the Shienarians aren't completely perfect, since even the nicer ones are a bit biased against the Traveling People. As Uno points out though, it's very impressive that she's come all this way.

The raven, Perrin thought. Stop looking at that bird and come on, woman. Maybe you’ve brought the word that finally takes us out of here. If Moiraine means to let us leave before spring. Burn her! For a moment he was not sure whether he meant the Aes Sedai, or the Tinker woman who seemed to be taking her own time.

I can't help but feel that despite everything, Perrin might actually be the least patient and even-headed of the boys. He plays a good stoic on the outside - usually - but it's difficult to see early!Rand having this kind of thought process.

She was not young—gray showed thick in her hair where it was not hidden by her cowl—but her face had few lines, other than the disapproving frown she ran over their weapons. If she was alarmed at meeting armed men in the heart of mountain wilderness, though, she gave no sign. Her hands rested easily on the high pommel of her worn but well-kept saddle. And she did not smell afraid.

She's not long for this book, but I do respect Leya quite a bit. This should be quite terrifying.

Leya shrugged and answered hesitantly. “I . . . knew that if I came this way, someone would find me and take me to her. I . . . just . . . knew. I have news for her.”

One wonders what Moiraine is doing to pull off this effect. It might just be that her eyes-and-ears are entirely mundane and simply under instruction to play things up as magical influence; I certainly can't think of any magic in the series that Moiraine would have access to at present that could do this... but it's still early enough in the series that this might be the remnant of some idea of Jordan's that never came to fruition.

“It is possible to oppose evil without doing violence.” Her voice held the simplicity of someone stating an obvious truth.

This feels like a lesson Perrin was meant to learn along the way but of course he never quite does, does he? Even at the end, when his dreamwalking could open him up to non-violent courses of action, he's still pretty much just locked in battle with Slayer and Lanfear. I can't even fully blame Sanderson for this because it's not like Jordan had any better ideas.

She gave him a penetrating look. “And yet you are not happy with your weapons.” How did she know that? He shook his head irritably, shaggy hair swaying. “The Creator made the world,” he muttered, “not I. I must live the best I can in the world the way it is.” “So sad for one so young,” she said softly. “Why so sad?”

For such a peaceful people, they sure do love annihilating their opponents with words. Perrin's got no argument... and again, he won't ever find that better way.

In the distance, the side of a mountain had been carved into the semblance of two towering forms. A man and a woman, Perrin thought they might be, though wind and rain had long since made that uncertain. Even Moiraine claimed to be unsure who they were supposed to be, or when the granite had been cut.

Perhaps King Eawynd of Safer and his queen - or perhaps even him and Mabriam, to celebrate the Compact of the Ten Nations. Perhaps King Aedomon to celebrate his battles against Manetheren. Probably no one we've heard of though.

When he looked over his shoulder, she was casting worried glances up the steep slopes to either side. Scattered trees perched precariously above them. It appeared impossible they would not fall. The Shienarans rode easily, at last beginning to relax.

Maybe it's just that I've been taking a break for a month, maybe it's changing the program I'm using for the ebooks, but I feel like this book has a bit more environmental description than the last one did. It makes it a bit harder to comment - Jordan's descriptions are all quite good so what is there to say - but it really builds up the isolation of this strange mountain camp.

A four-legged serpent scaled in gold and scarlet, golden maned like a lion, and its feet each tipped with five golden claws. A banner of legend. A banner most men would not know if they saw it, but would fear when they learned its name.

The Pattern really made some interesting choices when it decided that the calling card of the Dragon shouldn't be immediately recognizable, didn't it?

[harmonyckrs]

Some Specter Family Headcanons (mainly Olive bc she's one of my faves)

The Muenda family was an upper class household, and Olive was supposed to be the heir to the family due to being the older one. Her parents considered giving the title of heir to Willow instead due to Willow being more sociable, but Olive found out and got them killed for it

Everyone in the family is really tall. Ophelia is the shortest out of them all, but is still tall compared to other people in Strangetown

Willow was never aware that Olive was behind their parents' murder until Olive was trying to kill her and Creon. Due to Willow not updating her will in time, Olive got custody of Ophelia

Olive sets up her house in a way that makes almost everything a hazard that could lead to death. This is how she was able to get away with murder, as most people viewed her as a scatterbrained woman who's accident-prone and lucky

Olive has attempted to kill Ophelia a couple of times but Ophelia is usually smart/observant enough to notice the traps Olive sets up and is able to avoid them. Once she turned eighteen she immediately moved in with Johnny and never looked back

Olive's motives for killing people involves wanting to see the Grim Reaper as well as having a very twisted sense of justice. Each person in the garden has "wronged her" in some way, with the exception of Ichabod who died normally

The service workers usually made some kind of quip that Olive interpreted as an insult or were slightly rude towards her due other circumstances, like them being tired

Olive met all of her previous lovers through the parties she attended. She became jaded after Earl E. DeMise but started getting over it once she got to Ichabod

Olive never cared for Hugh Thanasia or Rigger Mortis and mainly just married them for the sake of having a husband and so she could eventually sacrifice them to see the Grim Reaper

On Halloween, Olive turns off all of her lights and leaves a bowl of candy in front of her gate. Nervous also does this during the period of time when he lived alone

There's various trinkets buried in the garden that is associated with different victims. Olive also makes everyone's tombstones herself and has a special talent in making sculptures

Nervous has a random assortment of skills/knowledge and secretly has dark powers as a result of being the son of the Grim

Olive and Nervous aren't really close as Olive doesn't approve of anyone that Nervous chooses to date and usually makes passive aggressive remarks towards them, which is noticeable by both Nervous and whoever his partner is

Didn't feel like making a Mii for Ophelia lol sorry. I don't have any particuarly strong headcanons for her at all. I think she's either straight or bi

[riahlynn101]

"Of Headaches and Heartaches" (9).

Chapter Nine

--

Sun is pleasantly surprised that Gregory is brought back to the daycare. And, judging by his little friend’s reaction, he’d hazard a guess Gregory is just as happy to see him. 

His friend’s guardians leave (an itch, a voice, a whisper in his head, telling him that something is off about them, won’t leave him alone until the heavy, wooden door slams shut). Gregory doesn’t seem to notice, clinging to his legs. But that’s for the best, because dealing with separation anxiety has never been his strong suit. 

A kid get injured and needs a bandaid? 

Sun has Band-Aids of all different colors, Fazbear characters, and sizes. 

Is a kid cranky or too overwhelmed?

Not really Sun’s forte, but Moon has always had a talent for calming down the ones that can’t be quelled with finger paint or funny voices. 

But give them a kid with separation anxiety and they’re lost. Not for lack of trying of course. 

A couple of years ago, a two-year-old girl, named Erica, was placed in the daycare. All smiles and giggles up until the very moment mom and dad were no longer in view. 

You would have thought the world was ending with the tantrum she threw. 

That day had been particularly busy - thirty-seven children being placed in the daycare, even though he’s legally not supposed to watch more than twenty at a time. But, despite that, he tried his best to calm her down. Singing, dancing, funny voices, and promises of stickers later on did nothing. It was….disheartening to say the least. 

Erica continued her tantrum, albeit, quieter (the little ones always run out of steam so quickly) up until her mom and dad popped into view a few hours later. 

He thinks of her every time a young child walks through the door, or slides down the tube into the ballpit. Most children go through a period of being upset - being separated from one’s caregiver(s) can be a very scary thing to go through, especially if there’s any history of abuse, neglect, or abandonment. 

Still, all this to say, Sun’s very happy that Gregory doesn’t seem to mind his parents’ absence. He scoops him up, and brings him over to introduce Gregory to all his other friends. There aren't very many (usually only three or four during the week) until the afternoon. 

All his friends have already found their place on the carpet. As he approaches, they all look up at him expectantly. 

“Makayla,” he says, pointing to a little girl, six-years-old, with thick, dark, curly hair. 

“Xander.” He points to a red haired little boy, four-years-old, with large, wired glasses. 

“And Sarah.” He motions towards a small girl, three-years-old, with large blue eyes and a face full of freckles. She’s also the reason Sun had to ban any products containing tree nuts. 

Gregory clings to him, refusing to look at the other kids. The kids stare up at him, confused and a little bewildered with the newest addition. 

“Mister Sun, who’s that?” Makayla asks, pointing at Gregory. 

“His name is Gregory,” Sundrop says, allowing the aforementioned child to bury his head in the ruffled lining of Sun’s shirt. 

“Why’s he hiding?” Sarah leans forward on her knees to get a better view of Gregory. 

“He’s a bit shy right now, but he’ll talk when he’s ready.” Shifting Gregory to one arm, Sun snaps his fingers (usually he claps his hands to get the kids’ attention, but that really isn’t an option right now). “O-kay!” He shouts, cheerfully. “Let’s start with our morning song.”

-x-x-x-

One thing about working at Fazbear’s that they don’t tell you (among many) is the fact that no one is allowed to breathe a word of the restaurant’s bloody history. Oh, they’ll say it started in Hurricane (or some other, nearby smalltown). They throw names around when employees or curious customers ask. Upper management even has a whole backstory regarding the “supposed owners.” Which is probably for the best because the real story is not for the faint of heart. 

Anyone who has lived in Hurricane for more than a day knows why everyone avoids the pizzaplex like the plague. It’s only the business from tourists that keeps the lights on. 

Vanessa wasn’t alive when the original murders took place. Nor was she alive when the killer struck again (and then another time), but her parents had been. She grew up hearing their stories and warnings about a killer hiding behind a mask as trustworthy as Spring Bonnie.

She recalls their tales of two men who ran the original diner in the center of town, and then several more preceding that one. She remembers how distraught her mother would become at the memory of a blonde-haired little girl with the greenest eyes and most obnoxious accent. 

“Elizabeth,” her mother had once said during one of these recollections, rocking back-and-forth on their porch swing, “her name was Elizabeth Afton. And she was my only friend.”

She thinks of her mother’s tears whenever management gets a stick up their ass regarding the retelling of the who, why, where, and when of how Fazbear’s came to be. Their retelling of events erases the Afton and Emily families. It erases all the pain that the residents of Hurricane went through. 

“I’m sorry ma’am, Officer Vanessa must have been reading up on the conspiracy theories surrounding Fazbear’s,” her manager, John, jokes. He winks at the middle-aged woman, who giggles in response. 

The moment the woman leaves, Vanessa knows she’s in for it. 

He turns to her, eyes cold. “What does policy say about telling customers what happened back in the eighties?”

She shifts. “Don’t do it?” 

“Right. But yet here you are trying to dredge up the past.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, eyeing the floor. Honestly, Vanessa’s not. It’s a stupid policy that has only made the residents of Hurricane angrier (it’s quite frankly a miracle that the stupid mall hasn’t been set ablaze). 

“Manager John?” A deep, cartoonish sounding voice asks, a little sheepish. 

Vanessa looks up, past John - who has gone noticeably tense. 

She grins. “Hey, Freddy.”

[groovesnjams]

"We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel

DV:

Since the original WDSTF is a frequently-cited contender for the worst song of all time, the concept of doing a cover version that updates its references seems either borderline-genius (because there's nowhere to go but up) or exceptionally foolish (because the core idea is so flawed that there's no value to uncover.) It makes sense that Fall Out Boy would do this, and it makes sense that the result reveals that both things are true. Here's the thing: I come not to bury "We Didn't Start the Fire (A Fall Out Boy cover of the Billy Joel song "We Didn't Start the Fire)" but to praise it. Because it gets right one of the core things that Joel got wrong. The original "Fire" is a series of signifiers, ironically juxtaposed and strung together as disconnected events - a chronolog of nearly half a century that Joel connects into a meta-argument that "things happen" to every generation. But "H-bomb" didn't just materialize out of thin air, nor did "Belgians in the Congo" or the Vietnam war that Joel references a couple times. His is a history without subjects, and consequently without responsibility or blame. "AIDS, crack, Bernie Goetz," he sings: these are presented as merely things that happened, not deliberate choices with moral consequence.

Fall Out Boy make no such pretense. Their "Fire" is a list of events that made an impact on Pete Wentz and crew, abandoning the pseudo-objectivity of chronological order in favor of a random, stream of consciousness approach. "World Trade, second plane" is unquestionably a defining event of the past 30 years, but "Cubs go all the way again" and dual Michael Jordan references only belong on a list that comes from a band that claims Chicago as its hometown. Add Captain Planet and the overly-cute "Prince and the Queen die"? This is something that only Fall Out Boy could - or would - attempt. It's a cliffsnotes version of their specific lifetimes, and can't possibly be seen as anything else. It's dumb - so dumb, like "Trump gets impeached twice/ Polar bears got no ice" is not even the nadir - but Fall Out Boy aren't cloaking their point of view like the world's worst historian (Billy Joel.) I'll gladly take their nonsense honesty over Joel's logical elision of history.

Or rather, I won't, because while Fall Out Boy upgrade the lyrics the fundamental concept here is so useless - and the melody so grating - that it's impossible to want to listen to this godforsaken song more than once, as a curiosity. It says something fascinating about Fall Out Boy that in 2023, a decade into an afterlife that's now lasted nearly twice as long as their original run, they're following up a return-to-form album with a one-off single as wildly misconstrued as this and managing to get even one thing right. I think what it says is, "Imagine Dragons better get their shit together if they want to compete."

MG:

"We Didn't Start the Fire" is an absolutely vile song, a piece of pure capitalist crap. Whether Billy Joel's smooth, solid, original turd or the clasp of dingleberries that make up this cover, it's still flag-waving propaganda barrelling around the bend. How can you both assert your nativist perspective as the center of the universe and excuse yourself and your fellow countrymen for any responsibility in all the wars, slavery, and unfounded hatred we've wrought in our existence? You can't, but it warms my heart that some of the richest men in the last two centuries have attempted the impossible. Fall Out Boy's stab at ironic juxtaposition might be funny in an arch way if Pete Wentz weren't an actually talented lyricist capable of staking out emotional truth in his work. Instead he's wasting his time not quite rhyming "black parade" with "Y2K." And while we're here, are these supposed to be the good events, the bad events, or just the events most worthy of laminating and tacking to the bulletin board? Sandy Hook, Columbine -- brutal, horrific losses of very young life -- on one hand, Meghan Markle and Venus and Serena -- famous black women -- on the other. What's the suggestion here?

Don't bother. There's nothing at the core of this song, nothing on this song's outer rings, nothing at all. Fall Out Boy have robbed these words of the energy they possessed in their inert state, produced meaninglessness where potential once stood. Defending this song is an exercise in tragedy but typing on about something so obviously wretched and doomed isn't a much better use of time.

[alexsfictionaddiction]

Review: The House Of Broken Bricks by Fiona Williams

The soft verdant tones on this striking book cover caught my eye and apparently that was enough for me to give this book a go. I then saw it predicted to be on this year's longlist for the Women's Prize for Fiction (it wasn't) and learned a bit more about the story. I was braced for a tearjerker and it definitely is that.

Tess and her husband Richard's house in rural England was once loud and chaotic with the energy of their twin sons but now the quiet has set in. Both of them go about their lives avoiding painful conversations and burying their heartache. However, the time may be coming for their healing journey to begin.

We hear from all four members of the family's perspectives and this really enriched the storytelling. I saw events from every point of view and was able to piece together the imagery in a much more accurate, vivid manner than if we'd had the whole story from one or two voices. Max and Sonny both speak about their unique twinhood and how their differing skin tones affects their lives as brothers. The bond between them is beautiful and their relationship has a kind of ethereal vibe to it, perhaps for an obvious reason -however, it would be a spoiler to disclose this here.

Grief is probably the overriding theme of the book and its coldness does seep through the entire narrative. I can only describe the atmosphere of this book as grey. Everything just seemed very drab and washed out, which reflects the horrendous event that the whole thing hinges on. Tess appears to bear the brunt of the grief but I really felt the ripples of it in Richard in his aloofness and actually in both of the boys too. Williams did such a good job of demonstrating how grief can manifest differently. The brokenness is reflected in the house too.

Sonny's voice was very heavily descriptive. He notices absolutely everything and it was actually his distinctive voice that allowed me to cotton on to what was happening within the family very early on. We aren't told exactly what has happened until near the end of the novel but something was loudly telling me within the opening pages and I couldn't ignore it. I'm not sure whether Williams intended it to be a twist or whether we were always supposed to know. Either way, whenever you realise, it will be sure to hit you hard!

We meet a variety of characters throughout the narrative including the wider family and neighbours. Marge is an elderly neighbour who Tess takes care of and she often takes the boys with her when she visits. She explicitly makes the comparison between the broken house and the souls of its inhabitants. I think I would have liked this parallel to have featured more prominently throughout the book, as I always find it a really powerful visual when a character's psyche or emotions reflect the setting.

The House Of Broken Bricks is a reflective, quiet book with some devastating depictions of grief. There wasn't much in the way of plot and I wasn't really wondering who had died because as mentioned, I realised very quickly. Williams is a talented writer though and I can still picture the house and the neighbourhood very vividly, which I have to commend her for. I'd recommend it to anyone who likes literary fiction about families and strong emotions with some deep character studies.

[theheadlessgroom]

"And despite saying looks aren't everything, you always fixate over mine." Constance haughtily remarked, "Hmph! For one who claims there's more to love than good looks, you can't seem to understand how my husbands ever fell for me. There are plenty of ways to make someone fall for you. Why Ms. Emily barely had to do anything to make you fall for her." She snickered with a wry smile, "Part of me thinks you might just be jealous." "And besides, for as 'terrifying' as she may be, you still don't see her around, do you? I don't believe either of us have any control over that whatsoever." Constance twirled a lock of hair around her fingers, staring off dismissively, "Who knows? I may even come to replicate her 'talents' someday." The Black Widow smirked, next interlocking her fingers. "After all, your bride exists in memory, surely, but who here has merchandise with her name and face on it, hmm? And who here has blood on their hands? Emily may have disturbed, but she's no killer." Though her grin quickly became more malicious as she added, "I'm sure you and the man she was meant to marry can attest to that." Constance outstretched her arms, tilting her head back slightly as she sighed, "Perhaps I could've loved him, from what you've said of him, he sounds like my type. Though, perhaps if he were richer." She twisted her arms around again to hold her shoulders, "After all, if he were marrying Emily for her money, that means he probably didn't have much himself, did he? Sorry, but even if I can respect his mentality, I could never be with such a pathetic man. What's there to gain?" She smiled serenely, "...Well, apart from a wedding of course. Those are always lovely to attend. My weddings were always the talk of the town in my life, you know?" She chuckled a bit from behind the back of her hand, fondly reminiscing, "And I'll have you know I don't JUST think of murder and money. How blasé. My husbands can attest that our marriages are perfect and that I am a wonderful bride, they're all perfectly happy and content in our relationship, even if they don't have much of a choice otherwise." She paused for a moment, before continuing, looking off, "...And yes, yes, it was a figure of speech. Honestly, as if her going on about that wasn't bad enough as it is. That girl never shuts up about it." She rolled her eyes, clearly thinking about the other stretching portrait ghosts.

"Oh, please," Randall rolled his eyes at the "jealous" comment-pretty bold claim in his book. "I just don't understand what any of your husbands would see in you: You're not particularly attractive, and your personality isn't much better. I suppose the only answer is that either you were that good an actress (which I doubt...), and your husbands were all blind as bats. Either way, poor bastards.

"And believe me, Constance, the chances of you becoming anywhere nearly as frightening as my Emily are the same as the chance of pigs sprouting wings," he snorted. "And she's a far better woman than you could ever be-you're pathetic, making your money by burying a hatchet in the necks of love-hungry men. You're not better than her just because you have the willingness to kill. You're nothing but a monster-you say you love your husbands, but what you really love is their money, and the attention you probably got after you killed them. You probably kicked up some big ol' crocodile tears for the press, didn't'cha? Tragic widow, oh, everyone come gather 'round the poor, heartbroken young bride! And all their wealthy friends did come along to comfort you, and you had a whole lotta new prey...

You're nothing but a soulless witch, Constance, and I wish when you kicked the bucket that Ol' Scratch came along to take you down to Hell as his bride. Though that might be too cruel to do to even him, honestly."

[tartrazeen]

I added this to my other post about Angus probably having his own magic, but since there's so little content on here about Mystic Knights of Tir Na Nog, I might as well make it its own post. :) Don't wanna bury it in a reblog.

So to pick up from what I was saying about Angus probably having magic and Cathbad knowing about it, part of my evidence comes from Cathbad putting so much emphasis on him being a thief. And - yes, he is one, but Cathbad takes it like it's a personal slight. Like "You aren't living up to your full potential," building off that time when Angus even admits that Cathbad doesn't think much of him.

There are so many episodes where he refers to Angus as 'a common thief' or 'a petty thief'. It's the emphasis on the adjective - like, "Being a thief is one thing, but being a common or petty one is supposed to be beneath you." Torc says it once too, but it's in that fully disparaging way 'cause Enemy™ - so it's totally different from when Cathbad goes on to get pissed at one point that Angus is "running around like the village thief." There's a sense of disappointment from Cathbad that's even highlighed by that little note for when Angus tries to steal the bravery powder.

So I am in love with the idea of it all being because Angus is magic, knows some magic, or is trying to learn more magic from Cathbad (and probably did!)... just to use it to steal shit. Completely squandering the 'true' talent Cathbad thinks Angus should have.

Like - when that bratty little prince showed up and showed Angus how to put his hand through stone, that might as well have been screaming "JACKPOT." Cathbad mocking who he thinks is Angus (but is really Midar) for getting shrunk and being stuck that way? It's definitely 'cause he assumed Angus only did it to sneak in somewhere. The extra-tickled amusement from Cathbad in the scene could've come from how he was at least impressed Angus had learned enough to even be stuck that way.

It's also probably why Cathbad looked willing to say Angus was innocent during that trial, since despite the evidence and an obvious reputation, it was too much like common theft for him to fully believe Angus could stoop so low.

I feel like the stakes were higher than 'just' jail that time. It seemed to putting their relationship directly on the line, and as happy as everyone was to find the real thief, Cathbad must've been the most relieved person in the room. A guilty verdict would've shattered something between them that I don't tooootally think they even realized existed to shatter ('cause while I'm all here for "I Have Two Sons Actually 😌" Cathbad, I'm delighted by the idea that Cathbad has no goddamn idea what to really do with kids and has never wanted to admit why he puts up with this one, eVeN iF Angus happens to be very damn smart. And Angus sure as shit doesn't think Cathbad likes him, beyond occasionally being able to talk the druid into doing Angus a favour now and then.) For Cathbad to casually go like, "Oh wow I guess we'll never know if I thought you were guilty" after that is the biggest fuckin' tell for "I was praying you weren't, you would've broken my heart :'(" there is.

So yeah, Angus wastes his life picking pockets, probably a little more for fun than any honest need at this point, but Cathbad seems to think (mostly despite himself) that there's something in there destined for more. They've just gotta... kinda... get to it somehow. :/ And every time they don't, Cathbad just sees Angus slipping further away.

🤣 No wonder he shuts Angus down so hard near the end when he asks about creating illusionary walls. Think of how much Angus could take if he could also conjure walls as cover.

I'm happy enough with where the show ended, but I'd like to think that in a future episode, there would've been one with Cathbad and Angus where it was all about that. Like Cathbad would finally snap over Angus throwing his potential away to just steal again, get caught again, go to jail again. He could actually try to cut Angus off or force Angus (somehow) to give the thievery up. Maybe it starts by trying to reason with him, then with (poorly) attempting to have a heart-to-heart, and then in a fit of anger and frustration, almost definitely because Angus steals some important potion to play around with it, actually casting some sort of spell that's supposed to 'fix' the problem of stealing. And it works! Angus suddenly becomes very well-behaved and polite.

But it also saps Angus' motivation and creativity. He has to be told what to do every step of the way, because he can't even conceive of doing something out of order anymore. He loses his ability to fight effectively, maybe even loses the ability to summon his armour (because the part of him that earned it is gone), and he stops going anywhere at all because he doesn't 'technically' belong anywhere. He doesn't have his own hut, he's not royal, he's presumably an orphan, and Cathbad doesn't ever permit him to be around. And he just gets quieter and more miserable until Cathbad agrees to reverse the spell, but the damage is done: the message was sent when it came to using magic to 'cure' him.

(Yes, this could fit into 22 minutes. The pacing of that show's quick, and going from 'Angus is in jail again' to 'We have to do something about Angus' to 'Well, that's just how Angus is, Cathbad' to 'Fine, I'll do something about Angus myself' to 'bad attempt to talk' to 'Angus steal more shit anyway' to 'Magic anti-steal' to 'Angus is sad' is like... six scenes.)

Anyway, I'd want it to end with Cathbad actually doing the heart-to-heart properly. He apologizes for going so far to control Angus like that, and then moves right into "But I can't have you running around as a thief!" And it'd be over to Angus to basically say, "It's all I'm good for around here," which - hopefully - would snap a bit of shit into focus for Cathbad. With all of the insults and teasing and unsolicited lessons, Angus really has been left with the idea that being a thief all he is. Is it a good thing to be a thief? Maybe not, but Cathbad's always declared him as one, so Angus is pretty confident in that identity. And it's challenging and fun, and when it wasn't fun, it was necessary - for him and Rohan both (hint hint starving orphans).

Because I'd like that to set the stage for Cathbad to finally list some positives about him: Angus is smart, and he has a talent for seeing opportunities no one else can. He wishes it was more respectable, but the fact that Angus earned his mystic armour should've been proof enough that he was worthy. It wasn't like he stole that armour, after all. And part of his ability to see things makes him uniquely talented at combining magic powders. Something happens when he does. It's rarely ever less than chaotic, but it's always something, and that's a sign that there's magic in him that simply needs to be focused properly. (And Angus sees there's that 'focused'/'controlled' thing again 🙄 - so Cathbad's going to have assure them both this has nothing to do with casting another spell on Angus. I want him to have to earn back a little of Angus' trust for once).

It wouldn't go on and on for hours, but eventually Cathbad would say that if it's a challenge Angus is looking for, then perhaps it's time to have a proper lesson in magic. It might be even be overdue. And as a show of goodwill, Cathbad agrees to show Angus what that potion he stole even does. He goes to get it. Just to find...

... nothing. 🫠

And Angus looking like 😬

And Cathbad going like, "... okay. That's... We'll have to make another one then, won't we?" Really, really trying here. Then saying he needs certain ingredients and has to find them in the slow mess that his inventory's become without Rohan to (badly lmao) tend to them.

And Angus is like, "oh I know where everything is :) here here here here and here :)"

And Cathbad's actually really impressed by this, because he's realizing Angus has always been an oddly precise thief when he goes through Cathbad's stuff - because he's stolen so much of it that he has an even better inventory in his head than Cathbad does.

But then Cathbad says, "Now we just need one last ingredient. I know I had some yesterday."

And Angus is like 😬

And Cathbad just picks up his herb basket and says, "At least you're aren't simply a common thief" (or something like that, whatever the kiddies would understand :P)

From there, I'd want episodes to reference Angus getting some lessons from Cathbad. He's like a weirdly unofficial apprentice - actually more like an unofficial student - and we start having him be the one to explain magic stuff that the knights run into rather than Rohan as much. It'd be a great set up for another Rohan versus Angus fight, where Rohan starts to feel like he's being replaced (and maybe ungratefully throws a lot of shit into Angus' face that cuts deep). I hope that'd end with blah-blah-blah the three of them are a family pretty much, everyone makes up, Rohan feels secure in his place again and Angus gets some actual approval from Rohan about anything for once lmao

Importantly, it'd set the stage for Angus to be practicing magic, and then very suddenly fucking revealing he's got his own. Or if it's not a reveal to him, it's a reveal to the others, because he's never been able to use it for things that aren't related to theft and he's never been consistent enough or experienced enough to want to test it in an actual battle. But the fact that he's learning from Cathbad at all would be the foundation of him being his own full-fledged magic user on the show.

As a bard. :3

A bard who knows a lot of Druid spells. :3

'cause that's my damn head canon and I'll be as self-indulgent as I pleeeeaaaaassseeeeeeeee

(also keeping a Magic-Using Angus away from Maeve is important, but imagining Nimaine finding out about it?! Maeve would force a wedge between Angus and Rohan, but Nimaine would drive it between Angus and Cathbad. Both of them, though, I can see trying to trick Angus into being afraid of himself or what others think, not really being lured in by being promised more power. That's more of a Rohan plot 😅)

But I'd also love to see some sort of treasure-hunting episode. Imagine an ancient temple or ghostly cave that Cathbad needs something from or gets trapped in. The only one with the right mix of skill, magic and experience - more than even Cathbad's as a druid - is Angus, who explicitly knows how to sneak around and disable the various traps that these kinds of places have. As in, he's been to other places just like this all over Ireland to swipe shit. Very Tomb Raider, basically. 💖 And being able to get into those places to find the hidden secrets of magic thought to have been lost generations ago is something that could instantly bring the two of them closer together.

:( and since I heard that Vincent Walsh supposedly wasn't gonna come back for a second season (THAT'S WHY I'M HAPPY IT ENDED WHERE DID, SORRY, I'M SELFISH, HE NEEDED TO BE THERE), it would've been a great handwave te explain his abscence.

'Cause they were not gonna recast him 😤 My eight-year-old self would've fuckin' refused.

[xbaebsae]

When I woke up the next morning, face buried in a dumb fishing pun, I felt like something had changed. Maybe it was the lack of embarrassment on my part, usually the only way I'd end up this close to him was with a lot of whiskey involved. Maybe it would just hit me twice as hard later. But somewhere deep down I knew it was because this was the first time he'd ever trusted me with something personal.

And from Tucker I knew that that trust was very hard to come by.

This stunning piece is a commission I got from the seriously insanely talented @ziorre. You have no idea how much I loved this from the very first sketch onwards. This piece is perfection, like a screenshot of the image in my mind when I wrote the scene for this, absolutely crazy! I can't recommend to commission her enough when she reopens. Trust me, there's just no way you'll be disappointed ever.

Part of the chapter that is directly related to this image is attached below, many kisses to anyone who actually reads it ♥

(...)

“What about your mother?” His posture grew tense and I was ready for him to avoid the topic like any other slightly more personal question. “Don’t ya already know my whole family story?”, he scoffed and glued his eyes on a pile of junk at the opposite side of the room. I knew from Tucker that Jakob hated their family story becoming center of attention in the project's religion. “I know Joseph’s, not yours.” “Well, a lot of what he wrote into his book is true for all of us.” “A lot, but not all. I know about your dad, not much is mentioned about your mum, though.” After he showed no sign of answering I figured I’d change the topic. “It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk about -” “I’ve got this one memory”, he interrupted me clumsily, as if he'd wanted to get it out before he could change his mind again. “Was never really able to place or make sense of it.” I had no idea when I'd moved closer to him but suddenly our faces weren’t too far apart. “It’s safe with me”, I whispered, my hand moved to his leg in an attempt of reassurance. A cocky smile rushed over his lips. “I know, cause if ya told anyone, you would have to explain how ya got to know it in the first place.” My fingers pinched into the skin of his thigh but he didn’t even flinch. “Ugh, I swear whenever I try to be nice to you-”, I rambled, rolling my eyes and pulling my hand away, but he grabbed it and put it back where it was. Our eyes met and it was one of those indefinable moments that told me nothing and everything at once.

After a moment of silence he looked down at my hand on his thigh. “I was a child, toddler probably, sittin’ on the counter in our kitchen. Woman with a red mane of hair was humming a melody I can’t recall, swirling through the room. She was happy, truly happy, either cookin’ or bakin’ and there was nobody else with us.” He paused for a moment. “No idea who she was." His brows frowned and I figured this memory still bothered him even today. "She wasn't your mum?'' I asked carefully. Nothing I would have hated more than to ruin this moment. Subtly, he shook his head. "Nah, our mother was blonde ‘n in all years I remember with her I’d never seen her smile. She hated cookin' too, my dad's fault.” "Do you think she's… your actual mum?" His smile grew sad even though he tried his best to hide it. "Guess I'll never know. Maybe she was, dad hadn’t liked when I'd asked. But maybe she's not real at all. Just a little boy dreaming someone into existence. Might run in the family, y’know? Joe hearin' voices, I'm seeing faces…" "You aren’t like him!", my voice was unexpectedly loud when I interrupted and I lowered both it and my face in a hint of embarrassment immediately when I added: "You aren't crazy, Jake. I don't know the answer to who she is either, if she’s real or not, but maybe it simply doesn't matter." Lost in thoughts he watched me as if my face would offer some kind of new truth. "Suppose it doesn't."

[rmoonstoner]

Opalescent Dreamer

***

Notes:

Not Canon timeline. I'm pulling things from here and there. I've been dying to write a fic with Dr. Strange in it after watching the Multiverse of Madness. Reader is a natural Dream Walker with a slight psychic ability. This results in the reader becoming proficient in magic. 

***

Story will be 18+

MK system x Reader

Warnings:

Eventual smut, angst, fluff, death, gore, blood, foul language traumatic experiences

Summary:

You're a traveller, always have been, always will be. On one fateful trip to Egypt, you find a small shiny greenish opal, and things start to get intensely weird from that moment on. You start having way too real dreams about other people's lives. They are always about the same two people. A peculiar man with three faces, and a strange doctor learning about magic. As you dream about them, learning about their lives, you feel like something is pushing you towards them. While time passes, you teach yourself magic as the doctor learns it, while also yearning to meet with the man with three faces.

***

Chapter 1 - Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

***

You have been having peculiar dreams, and you've tried everything to understand them. You did extensive research on dreams. All your information was just theories. Many of them were different, like they were telling you the future in subtle ways, or about your past, while others claimed they were you subconsciously trying to tell yourself what you truly wanted, but the most common theory you found was that dreams showed you lives that you could have been living.

Yet those types of dreams never seemed to be about your life. No, they were always about other people. Their lives, and what they were doing. You saw things as if they were from your point of view, but you knew it was disconnected somehow, like you were a fly on the wall, or looking through a stranger's eyes. A stranger that could never have really been you, or any version of you. Dreams are a window to other realities, and you have been dreaming of strange things for quite some time, at least for the past five years.

It happened only after you had found a strange rock buried in the sands on a trip to Egypt. One that you swear whispers these dreams to you at night. You also think this rock does other things to you, like keeping you safe from harm and somehow heals you when you're sick, or injured. You believe this, because you haven't had any health problems since, and somehow you've managed to avoid all sorts of major injuries from any accidents you've been in. You've also found you get thirsty and hungry a lot less. Ever since then, you've worn the rock around your neck, and the dreams kept coming, the wounds always healing. A buzzing of something bittersweet running through your veins.

Most of the recurring dreams that you keep having are about a man with many faces and talents. In some of these dreams, you're nothing more than a background character, serving coffee or tea to him in a diner. In other dreams, you're friends with him, exchanging friendly banter, and doing things that friends do.

But again, it was never you. Should you ever glance at a mirror, or a reflective surface, you would see someone else. An old woman, a young boy, a pregnant teenager, a grumpy middle aged man, a beautiful woman with golden skin…

None of them were you, but you still saw what they did, how they lived.

The only variance to these odd point of view dreams, were the times when it was clear that you were looking through a mirror at this man, when he wasn't aware of you, when he wasn't looking at you.

But no matter the dream, this man always talks to himself, like he's talking to someone who isn't there. He'll talk for the unseen person, his voice changing to suit whoever these people are supposed to be. Sometimes, he changes into those people, and when he does, it's like he's become an entirely different person. Sometimes you swear the other reflections of him make different faces, like they aren't reflections at all. It leads you to think there are three different men, but you knew better.

Sometimes he would look at the mirror, and he would see you, really see you. It was during those quiet moments that a silent understanding would run through you, that he knew you existed, but he never saw you unless he was looking deeply into the mirror, in a world where everything felt off, like being stuck in a room full of mirrors.

Those were the times you quickly figured out this man was dreaming, stuck in the same confusing mirror world as you.

This man, despite his seemingly random personality changes, always changes into one of three distinct personalities in both types of dreams. It is so consistent, that you know this man probably cannot help the way his brain short circuits and forces him to change to suit whatever situation arises. The switch always looks painful and disorienting, with a brief look of complete terror, followed by confusion, and understanding, and finally acceptance.

One is super grumpy and off-putting, and he comes off as brash and rude, but he always smiles at you when he sees you in the mirror. The second is very humble and gentle, and he is usually kind and polite to you, more so when he stands behind the reflective glass, grinning sheepishly at you, like you're something precious. The last one is always close to you, quiet and calm. He is usually the one in the mirror, because the other two are awake most of the time. This one sings to you in Spanish, even when he seems to be nothing more than a faded image in a dream.

But he is real, so very real. Sometimes you see this man, but he's different, like it's yet another version of this specific persona. It happens with the other two personalities, but not nearly as often as the one with a dangerous smile, that flat cap, and that blood red eye. It takes you a while to figure out that your dreams are forcibly picking this specific man with three identities, and linking you to him, especially the one that speaks fluent Spanish.

But in the other types of dreams this odd Spanish personality is dangerous and fearless, quick and cunning. Those are the dreams he doesn't see you at all, and those show you just how deadly the man with three faces truly is.

And after those dreams, the mirror-like ones got even more real. That dangerous man would whisper to you that he longed for something more. A connection to someone that wasn't the two other people in his head. Whenever he gazes at you, his eyes go soft, and he never fails to regard you with a toothy grin and wink.

But some of these dreams don't appear to be just you peering into an odd, endless room of mirrors, some sort of dimension that makes your stomach curl, and your mind dizzy…

Some of these dreams seem to force you to watch from the reflections that surround this man, wherever he is. In these kinds of dreams, you can't communicate with him. You feel like this man, and any of his alters, never see you, even when you've tried to speak. This happens for three years, and then one day, you're in one of these types of weird out of body experiences. Everything is so real, but it feels like an acid trip on overdrive. The way the world shifts and moves like liquid crystals, melting, and reforming into sharp points, makes you feel like it's an in-between world. A realm where you cannot be seen, heard, or perceived…

The current scene in front of you is alarming. It's that man again, but he is alone, and he's hurt. He's dragging himself through sand at night, and he gasps for breath as he leaves a thick gouge in the dusty Earth under him. You see blood in the trail he leaves. You're jolted forwards for a closer look as your heart beats wildly in your chest.

You don't understand how it's happening, because there's nothing reflective around you, that is until you look again and see you're much closer, and then in the blink of an eye he is far away again. It happens again and again as he crawls, and you realize he's getting wet, as are the sands around him as it turns dark and soaked with water.

Rain.

It's raining you figure out, so you try to hover in a certain spot, and try not be dragged with the droplets of water.

It worked, and now you are looking around, desperately, trying to see if there's a building he can use as a shelter. Even a small oasis with water. Anything at all.

You see a weird temple, made of smooth white marble. Marble that doesn't belong out in the desert. But it is something, so you go back to the man, and try to convey that he should turn just a little to the right, or he will miss it. He doesn't budge in the direction he is going, and you know he's getting to the point of missing the shelter. You go to his side, the side that's towards the temple, and you try to think on how to get him to turn towards you. Towards safety and cover.

You scream at him. You wail and shout, using everything in you. He pauses and coughs. You shout again, louder this time. He turns his head, face bloodied, sand sticking to his brow. His black hair is a mess, matted with dirt and more blood. He stares directly at you, shock on his face like he's seen you-

But what he actually sees is the top of the temple that pokes up from behind the ridge of the dune behind you. He sighs, feeling a little energy has been given to him because of the rain. He tries to stand, managing to steady himself as he trudges towards the stone structure. You cheer him on, gliding through the rain after him. He makes it inside, and you follow, only to see an odd statue, and not much else, the building crumbling everywhere except around the massive figure in this room.

Then you watched as time seemed to shift, the air around you feeling like soup. A booming voice echoed loudly, deep and commanding as it offered the man salvation in exchange for becoming his knight. As it spoke, a fine mist appeared, and a tall figure materialized above the man, seemingly as if he were sprayed from the statue's mouth.

From what you could tell, this being was Egyptian, and he looked similar to the statue. His voice was thick and raspy, like an ancient being from the distant past. He looked ancient, and it didn't help that he looked quite dead. He was a mummy, with a skull of a bird for a head. You gasped, and made some sort of noise, and the skull seemed to turn all the way around to face you while the body stayed facing the injured man.

"You don't belong here." The being rumbled into your mind.

"Yet." You shivered in fear, not knowing what that meant.

Then the being turned his head back around and he asked the man again to be his knight, and he would save him. The man agreed, and you watched as his body rode into the air and glowed. He went rigid, a silent scream on his lips. His eyes were white, shooting rays as pure as moon light up to the moon that hung in the sky. Cracking of bone and cartilage could be heard, the man grunting and huffing in discomfort as his bones healed and reset themselves. His wounds healed themselves, cuts closing, bruises fading. Even the dirt and grime melted away as the being directed the rain to wash his new knight clean with moon blessed water.

A white suit of armour made of wrappings formed all around him. Thick white bands covered every inch of his body, forming a perfect suit of armor. He was lowered to the ground where he crouched on his knees, kneeling before the skull headed man. The knight looks up, his gleaming white eyes piercing right into your very soul, causing your heart to wrench in your chest…

The deity turns to you and bellows again.

"Be gone, until we meet again."

In an instant, the image shatters like glass, the pieces falling away like they were being gone, sucked into a vortex vacuum. You scream as the world whirls around you, the images being dragged away, leaving you in dark and cold water.

***

You wake up, gasping for breath as you drag yourself out of the sheets. Everything feels so real now, but it felt real there, too, but in a different way. You steal yourself a breath, then you get out of bed to go to work. You tried for days not to think about that dream.

Weeks go by, and the dreams suddenly switch from this olive skinned man, to a completely different one. They start out as mundane days of life for him, getting ready for work, or shopping. Some days are ones where this man is at dinner parties, or important functions, but you can tell that he hates them. You see glimpses into his job, all graphic and bloody. He isn't killing anyone, but saving them in a sterile hospital full of bright lights. He appears to be a surgeon of some sorts.

Another few dreams, and you've figured out he is a brain doctor, a neurosurgeon. You haven't seen his face yet, but you know for sure this man isn't the one that has three people inside of him, because his hands are different, and so is his voice. This man sounds cocky, like he is self important somehow.

Finally one night you catch a glimpse of him looking in the mirror, and he's doing up his tie. He is a pale skinned man, with a black goatee, and short hair with streaks of white above his ears. He is thin and healthy looking, but you can't quite tell his body type with the clothes he is wearing. He is wearing a nice three piece suit, and he turns to a beautiful woman, taking her by the hand. You hear her name, Christine, and she calls back, saying his.

Stephen. Dr. Stephen Strange.

You have one of them in this timeline. You have met him before. He's not very nice, and he's pushy and a bit arrogant. You met him when you needed someone to help you with your mother, but he had turned you down, saying her condition was fatal, and inoperable. 

You never held it against him, because your mother died shortly after, about a week after meeting him. That was a year ago now. He did have the decency to send a card with his condolences when she died, so there was that.

The dream flashes ahead to a car driving down the winding roads of the countryside, and then something eventful happens.

A car crash.

The woman that's with him dies, but the doctor lives. He screams when he holds her corpse, and the dream cuts out.

**

More weeks go by, with you watching this man descend in madness. He's upset because his hands are ruined, which is weird, because they were perfectly fine in the dream where the woman had died. It takes a few more dreams to realize this is a different man, because he talks about the woman as if she is alive.

The dreams seem to speed through montages of this Stephen going through the healing process. Physical therapy, retraining his useless pitiful hands. He manages to heal all the cuts, scrapes, bruises, but there is soft tissue damage that leaves his hands barely able to write with a pen, or to open a bottle of water.

He gets frustrated and throws himself into research. He scours the internet, libraries, and anything he can get his broken hands on. At first he's looking to cure himself, learning about experimental procedures and wishing to try anything in the hopes it might work.

He gets turned down by many people, his people. Fellow doctors and surgeons alike all tell him they can do nothing to help him. Stephen begs and pleads. He tries to offer his wealth, but even then, he still gets told he is a lost cause.

He decides to seek answers elsewhere. He searches far and wide, ending up in an odd looking temple halfway across the world. He trains in the Mystic arts, and learns magic in an effort to ease his grieving heart. You catch small details of what he was doing, how he manages to conjure the magic, and in time, you discover you can do the same when awake.

***

Again, the dreams focus on this man, but it's the one whose lady had died in the accident, and his hands are perfectly fine. He too descends into madness, lost in the memories of his dearly departed love. He becomes depressed, and he blames himself, no matter what anyone tells him.

Again he goes through the journey to learn magic, but now he has a new goal. This goal is to learn how to manipulate magic to bring his dead love back. He's voiced it once before, and he was threatened not to try to reverse time, or the sorcerers won't train him. He agrees, staying quiet about his true intentions, just so he can learn the magic.

These dreams go over the spells he's been learning, but he's now channeling his power from darker dimensions. The result is learning different spells and different techniques. A lot of them are dangerous, like perhaps this one is trying to learn higher level spells than the other version did. This one is learning at double the speed, like he is fueled by gaining enough knowledge to turn back the clock.

***

You were bored one day, fully awake and you thought about the hand gestures you saw, and what he was told,  or what he learned by himself. How to summon the power from deep within, and pull it from the world around you, or from the realms that existed parallel to it. The magic you produced was a different colour than he had. His was a reddish orange, glowing like the radiant sun, while yours were a brilliant blinding white like the moon.

You became so absorbed in the dreams, focusing on these magic lessons this man and his other self were showing you, with them being completely unaware of it. You ended up quitting your job in order to practice these techniques and spells daily, and you worked hard to make sure you perfected whatever you saw. Each dream showed you exactly what you needed to know, like you were sharing this journey with the two different doctors, gaining new knowledge when they did.

Both versions of the doctor started collecting magical artifacts, one in particular they were heavily invested in, The Eye of Agamotto. They both lost themselves in research, which annoyed you. You wanted to learn more magic, but all they were doing was reading books and scrolls all the time.

So, you watched. You took in his surroundings, studied the open books he had, and tried to remember the things you had read. If this little green amulet was so important, then you should know everything about it, not that it would do you any good. You'd probably never see the real thing.

Life took an unexpected turn about two years after. By then, you had mastered everything both Dr. Stranges had mastered. You knew everything there was to know about them and their lives, which was now starting to get boring. You knew everything about their personal items, like the Cloak of Levitation, the Eye, and the books they held.

***

A couple of months later, you were on a trip to New York, hoping to find the Sanctum, the place that was used as a link to the Kamar Taj. You wanted to meet Dr. Strange, and see which version from your dreams was the one that resided in this world. You honestly were hoping for the one with broken hands, because that had an air of purity to him, whereas the other felt like the darkness was reeling him in, tainting him with dark magic.

You hopped into the back of a cab, hoping the cabbie knew the street you wanted by just describing the building. You managed to get about half way through your description, when you looked up at the driver. He was patiently sitting there, facing the road, both leather clad hands gripping the steering wheel loosely.

"Sí. I know where that is. People tend to stay away from there, because weird magic shit keeps happening." The man's rough voice said as he reached over to flick his ticker on, and pulled the car out into the road. You knew that voice.

You squinted at him, studying the side of his face for a long while. He had a sharp jaw, thick lips, dark olive skin, and dark curly hair under a flat cap. He looked so familiar, but you had a hard time trying to see his face from the middle seat in the back. You slowly looked into the mirror, and you could see his eyes focused on the road. He had dark circles under his brown eyes, eyes that looked like honey and chocolate. From what you could see of his nose, it was long, but rounded perfectly, seemingly the perfect size for his face. He grew aware that you were staring, and he stopped the car at a red light.

"Something on your mind, señorita?" He asked, his voice crisp with a Spanish twang to the Chicago accent.

"Oh, uh… Nothing. I like your hat. It suits your handsome face." You sheepishly said, and his face faltered for a brief moment, before a smug grin melted onto his face.

"Gracias." He replied, and the light turned green.

Now at your destination, you took notice of his face when he turned fully to you for payment.

It was that man you had been dreaming about before Dr. Strange. The one with the multiple people living inside of him.

"Thank you, sir. May I have your card? For when I need a ride after?" You asked him as you brought out more than double the fare price. His eyes went wide at the wad of bills in your hand, and he glanced up at your face.

"That's too much."

"Nonsense. You must work hard all day, driving people in such a big city. I bet you get a lot of weirdos. You deserve it." You cheerfully said. He reluctantly took the money, then he scribbled down his number on the back of a pack of matches and handed it to you.

"Name's Jake Lockley. I'll be around all day." He said softly, and you left him to go to the front door. He watched you leave and withdrew his pack of cigarettes, lighting one as you knocked on the door.

"Keep an eye out on that one." A raspy voice said in the back seat. Jake nodded and he watched as the door opened for you, a man greeting you with a confused look.

***

"Hello? Are you Wong?" You greeted the man who answered the door, and he blinked a few times at you as you bowed to him in the same manner you witnessed everyone else do this man.

"Ah. Hello. Yes, may I help you?" He asked while he worriedly looked around the street, like he was looking for any possible thing that could be wrong in the vicinity.

"Yes. I've… Uh… I've come to ask about the Mystic Arts… I understand that Dr. Strange is a sorcerer, yes?" You sounded timid and scared, as you should be. There was really no reason to be there, and his face mirrored that as his brows furrowed.

"Well, yeah. Everyone knows who Dr. Strange is. I'm sorry, but he is not here at the moment. He's… He has been busy recently." He sounded a bit nervous when talking about the man, and you knew why. Whenever you dreamed of him, he was always reading and researching about magic.

"Ah, well… I just wanted to see if he was here. Thank you for your time. I'm sorry I bothered you and-"

"Wait a second. I can sense great magic flowing in and out of you. Are you a witch?"

"Ahaha… I don't think I am."

"Please, come in for a moment."

So you went inside, completely unaware that Jake and his companion were still sitting there, watching as you disappeared with Wong.

***

Wong had asked you to show him what you knew, and he was flabbergasted that you were able to show him everything he had personally taught to his students, including a few things he had only ever seen Dr. Strange do. He was even more shocked to find that you learned this all on your own, without the aid of a teacher. When he asked how you knew, a small gravelly voice suddenly told you not to reveal every little detail on how, and you listened.

Instead, you managed to tell Wong a somewhat half truth. That you dreamed of how to do these things, and when you woke up, you tried them. He seemed to accept that answer, but the look on his face told you that he knew you were holding back the whole truth.

By dinner time, you had shown him most of the things you were capable of doing, and he seemed rather impressed. He deemed your level of knowledge to be on par with Dr. Strange, and that bothered him a great deal that some random woman was able to teach themselves to this degree without a teacher. He asked if you could come back the next day, and you nodded and left the building.

When you came outside, a good six hours later, Jake's cab was still sitting out front. You were worried he might have misunderstood what you asked of him, and maybe he thought you wished him to stay there until you were done. You tried to apologize, but he threw a hand up and muttered about the fact he owned his own cab, and he didn't have any place to be.

He took you to your hotel. The entire ride there he was silent. You thanked him, paid the fare, and got ready for the next day.

***

The next morning you texted Jake to see if he was on duty again, mostly because he said he would be available, and you got a quick reply in return. By the time you left the hotel, he was parked out front, ready to take you to your destination, which was right back to the Sanctum. You explicitly told him you weren't expecting him to wait for you, but he rolled his eyes and told you that you could call him if he wasn't outside.

Again you went through your spells with Wong, and he seemed fairly confident that he could get Dr. Strange to show up, but the day went by, and the man didn't come. Wong apologized to you, saying that the doctor was a busy man. You told him it was okay, because you knew the doctor was an Avenger. Wong sighed, and he ushered you out the door again.

To your surprise, Jake was again sitting outside in his cab. He was smoking and listening to Latino rock. Again, you went back to your hotel, and prepared for the next day.

This went on for two weeks, and not a single one of those days did the doctor show his face. During those two weeks, your dreams got worse. They were still centered on Dr. Strange, which was a bit annoying, because you wanted to see what Jake was doing. It was selfish, but you thought Jake was very attractive, more so after actually meeting him in person.

But these dreams seemed to be painting a picture that the good doctor wasn't so good after all. He was meddling in the dark arts, the most forbidden ones at that. Necromancy and time manipulation. You studied everything he was doing, wishing you had a way to show Wong, and perhaps warn him of the dark path that Stephen was on, but you had no idea how you could do that.

On the last day of being at the Sanctum, you were shown a new spell. Wong wanted to show you how to convey memories to others in a psychic way, in case people refused to believe you about something important. What a coincidence that was, and when you tried to cast the spell, you focused on the memories of what Stephen was doing.

Wong was floored after seeing the memories. He stared at you long and hard, his brows furrowed and his lower lip sat snugly between his teeth. He looked almost angry despite his calm exterior.

"That's 'Dream Walking'. That's a dark and forbidden spell. Not only that, but it's very hard to do." He sounded almost horrified, but mostly irritated.

"It's not a spell! It just happens when I go to sleep. It's been happening for years to me." You replied quickly. You were about to mention the rock around your neck, when you heard an echo of a voice.

Don't mention the necklace.

"You mean to tell me that you're not casting a spell? It just naturally happens?" Wong put his hands on his hips as he gave you a scrutinizing look. He was trying to see if you were lying.

"Yes! That's how I learned to use magic in the first place. I figured if I keep dreaming about it, I should at least try it out." You explained to him, and you were honest as you went to cast the spell again to show him another memory of the other doctor just in the early stages of learning, when his hands were ruined.

Wong rubbed his chin. He was obviously very perturbed that you could do such things, but then again, the doctor had learned so much in such a short span of time. He took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I must say that's ludicrously insane, but not unheard of. I believe you. You definitely have a natural affinity for magic." He admitted with a small smile.

***

You went back to your hotel, again sitting in the back of Jake's cab. When you got there, he parked in the guest parking, and he also got out. You watched him walk to the other end of the strip of rooms, and he bid you a good night as he entered his own rented place.

Had he always been staying there? Or had he decided to just rent a room, because you kept calling or texting him everyday for rides?

You had a strong suspicion that he was watching you, and it both thrilled and scared you to know that one of the men from your dreams was ever present, while the other kept eluding you with his self indulgent quest.

***

It was quite late at night when you left your room to go outside to the gazebo area. You sat back with your phone and smoked a joint, enjoying the night air, the full moon in the sky, and the weird lanky figure sitting on the roof above where Jake was staying…

Ah fuck.

You had nearly forgotten about that guy, so you made a point to keep your eyes scanning the horizon so it wasn't obvious that you were looking at him. You felt like it didn't work, because the figure seemed to be staring right at you, even though you were now scrolling idly on your phone. You felt a bit scared, because that very same being from your dreams had spoken to you. Well, one version of him anyway, because this one looked slightly different. This one had chains and a robe, whereas the other one only wore wrappings and a shendyt.

After a moment of pretending to look at Jake's door, and not the weird bird man on the roof, the door opened. Jake stepped out, and he was dressed in his full cabbie outfit, which was odd, because it was midnight, and you were just in short shorts and tee-shirt. He lit a cigarette, and shook his hand as he flung the match into the ashtray, then he looked up at the roof.

The figure motioned towards you, and Jake peered over, looking surprised you were still up. He started walking towards you, figuring he would talk to you while he could. You felt nervous, knowing he was a servant of that dark being, but you knew this man wouldn't hurt you.

"¡Hola, señorita! Why are you up so late?" Jake said as he came to stand next to you. He quickly noticed you were smoking weed, and his eyes lit up.

"Did you want some?" You offered him the joint, and he gladly took it. He seemed quite excited for it. You spent a good hour just sitting there and smoking with him, and eventually he asked you why you kept going to the Sanctum.

"Why do you keep going there? Isn't that place for magic users only?"

"Oh, uh… Yeah. I can use magic." You admitted between hoots. Jake nodded and lit another smoke.

"Are you allowed to show me any cool tricks?"

"Actually, yes. I'm not a member of the Sanctum, but Wong has been letting me come by to test me on my knowledge. I am self taught."

"Self taught? I don't believe you." He laughed a bit, and you huffed at him.

"I can show you. Here…" You replied with a grin while moving your hands and fingers around. White circles filled with runes appeared, and you produced a small ball of light. You moved your hands again, and the ball turned into a rose, then water in the shape of a rose, before you flicked the water at him. Jake snorted, not minding that his face was now wet.

"That's badass."

You showed him A wide range of harmless spells, and by the time you ran out of weed, you were both toasted. Jake was amazed you could still flawlessly cast the magic while high, and you assured him you could, even while drunk.

"Prove it…"

"Jake. We don't have fucking time for that tonight. Wrap up your little visit, and we must go." That same voice you kept hearing suddenly bellowed around you. You pretended not to hear it, and Jake huffed as he fished his phone out, obviously trying to pretend the voice was coming from his phone.

"Yeah. Uh huh. Right, boss. See ya soon" He said, and put his phone back into his pocket. You know you didn't see him even swipe his screen, but you said nothing.

"I gotta go, doll. I'm going to be busy until daylight. Maybe if you're around in the morning, I can take you out for breakfast?" Jake asked, and you blushed.

"Yes. Of course." You quickly agreed, and he grinned wildly.

"See ya later." And with that, he left in his cab.

***

Finally you got what you had been desperately wishing for.

Tonight's dream featured a masked man. He was in the same clothing as Jake's, and he plagued your dreams tonight. He dashed along the rooftops, hud in dark corners, and he beat up a couple of thugs. Half way through, his clothing switched to a brilliant white suit, and he started whacking people with two truncheons. Near the end of the night, his suit changed yet again, and it was the cloak and wrapping look.

More thugs are taken down, then some are tied up and carted away, only to be thrown into the trunk of the cab. Some are outright killed, left behind to rot. You peer closely at the man in your dreams, noting that when he changes back, he's Jake again, but this one is different. This one has different gloves, and a slightly different jacket to one you have been hiring to drive you around.

Then the view pans to the bird man, this one with the shendyt, and no chains. He peers at you, filling your body with a cold feeling.

"You're in the wrong place, little one. Wake up."

***

You wake with a start to a heavy pounding on your door. You roll out of bed and answer it. There Jake is, looking bagged and tired. He looks freshly showered, and he's in black  sweatpants and a hoodie. He's got his hat on, otherwise you would have figured one of his alters had come out.

Speaking of which, he hasn't told you about that yet, and you would wait until he did.

He took you out for breakfast at some local diner. It was very greasy, but it was delicious. He insisted on paying, and then he took you for a drive around the city, free of charge. He had you up in front with him as he told you how shitty his night was, without actually telling you what he did. You happily listened to him talk, and then by lunch time, he was looking worse for wear. You suggested he go back to the hotel and go to sleep, and he agreed.

When you got back, he did something strange. He parked the car directly in front of your door, he stripped off his jacket, his hat and he handed you his keys, and said you could borrow his car if you needed to. After, he went into his little hotel room, and you figured you wouldn't be seeing him for at least eight hours. You left to grab your weed and a beer, and you sat on the bumper of his car as you drank and smoked a joint while scrolling through your phone.

About twenty minutes later, Jake's door opened, banging off its hinges as a disoriented man came stumbling out and looking very confused. Your face fell, knowing he must have been tired enough to allow one of his alters to come out, and you waited to see if this man was the timid one, or the one that was a bit grumpy like the eagle from Sesame Street.

This man was wearing a large baby blue sweater, and Jake's sweat pants and shoes. He was frantically looking all around while patting himself down, like he was desperately looking for his wallet. You remembered from your dreams that Jake would hide his alters belongings in the trunk of his cab. You quickly opened it, finding a dark khaki jacket, and a wallet inside. You quickly checked it, seeing two identification cards inside, one that said Marc Spector, the other that said Steven Grant. 

Oh. So this version of the man you had seen in your dreams was at least aware of one of his alters, and judging by the fact Jake had their stuff in his car, and not in the hotel room, said quite a lot about their situation. You grinned, thinking up a quick plan to help the guy out, and you shut Jake's trunk as you sauntered on over with the jacket.

"Excuse me, sir!" You called out to him while waving the jacket around. The man's eyes lit up, and a look of pure relief formed on his face. He trotted on up to you with a sheepish smile while he wrung his hands together in his sleeves.

"Uh, hello. Is that my jacket?"

"I was going to ask you if it was your jacket. I… I found it outside in the parking lot." You quickly lied, hoping this man wasn't aware of Jake, otherwise he'd know right quick that you were lying.

But he just smiled, and nodded then reached out for his jacket.

"Thanks, love. I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on. Though it is somewhat loose if you ask me." He chuckled as he threw the jacket on and checked his pockets. More relief washed over his face when he found his wallet.

"Oh man. I'm so happy you found this. All my money and cards are in it. Marc would be furious with me if I lost it." He muttered as he tried to reward you with a hundred dollar bill. You shoved his hand away and shook your head.

"No thanks. I'm happy to see the rightful owner get it back. That's good enough for me. I saw two IDs in that wallet. Ya got a twin, or are you one of those suave spies?" You said in a teasing manner. The man blushed and looked away.

"Oh, uh… I am Steven. The other ID is… Uh… You wouldn't understand…" He muttered softly as he ran a hand through his unruly hair. You saw some movement on the roof, and it was that weird bird man again. You switched to looking at the cab, then you lit another joint. Steven scrunched up his nose at the smell of the weed burning and wafting towards him.

"Sorry, but I betcha I would." You replied with a sly smile as you moved a bit away from him so the smoke would not go to him. You leaned on the car, and waited for him to reply.

"Oh, well, if you're a cabbie, you've probably seen much crazier people than myself… Haha… Well, I have Dissociative Identity Disorder. It means-"

"Gotcha. I know what that means. No need to explain to me. Are you confused as to where you are, then?" You asked, and he nodded.

You told him that you had seen him hanging around and drinking by the pool a lot. He seemed skeptical, but he accepted your answer. He asked if he talked to you during that time, because he and Marc couldn't remember shit.

You said he was drunk off his ass, but he wasn't a bother. That he sat back and just stayed quiet, then would go to sleep most of the day on one of the loungers in the shade. He huffed at that information, but he seemed happy that he didn't do anything dangerous while he was out. You told him to check with the front desk to see how long his reservation was for. You told him you'd be around for another week, before heading back home, so if he needed any help, or a ride anywhere, you'd help him out. You figured Jake wouldn't be mad that you used his own car to chauffeur his alters around. Well, you hoped he wouldn't be.

You spent a week with Steven and Marc, with no sign of Jake anywhere. He obviously trusted you enough with his cab to stay in the background of his alters. The last day you planned to be there, you panicked a little, because Jake still hadn't come out, and you still had his keys.

You had a decision to make. Stay and keep holding onto this man's keys in the hopes he would come back, or leave his keys someplace where he would find them. You decided to stay, and you booked yet another week in the hotel.

It was a good thing you did, because Steven had shown up two days later, asking if you could drive him to a place to buy a new phone. Apparently Marc had smashed theirs the previous night when he was out for a jog, and Steven was furious about it. You got him to a store, and he bought a new phone. After, you took him back to the hotel. It felt weird driving a cab that didn't belong to you, but by now it was comforting, because everytime you climbed into the car, it smelled like them.

***

The dreams you had this week had switched back to the doctor. Your world's Stephen Strange. He looked like he'd been through hell and back, and soon, you would find out that he was actually going to hell. You caught glimpses of him in a dark room, candles lit everywhere, summoning creature after creature, and then he would weaken them with attacks. When the final blow was to be dealt, he would absorb it, the creature screaming in agony as he ripped their souls and powers from their bodies.

They were disturbing, and you knew enough from your visions and what Wong had told you, that this was not good. Whatever this Strange was planning, it was a danger to this world. You went back to the Sanctum to show Wong your memories of your dreams, and he looked scared. He explained to you that he had been lying about Stephen, and that he knew the doctor was planning on doing something forbidden.

That's when Wong told you about Christine. You had nearly forgotten all about that dream where she died. Wong told you what had happened, and it matched the dream perfectly. She died, he lived, and he blamed himself for it. He planned to go back in time and try to save her, even though he knew damn well that could possibly tear this reality into pieces.

That was not good.

It was bad. So very, very bad. If the doctor was successful, this universe could go right to shit. 

But lucky for you, that wouldn't happen for a while, not that you would know it.

You moved to New York, not really giving a shit about your things at home. You had no family left, not pets, or plants to care for. Just an empty farm house with old furniture.

Steven had vanished for a day or so. You figured Marc was on the prowl, probably doing only their God knows what. You desperately wanted to talk to someone about the possibility of the world crumbling apart, but Wong had asked you not to tell any mortal soul-

Wait.

The bird man. Maybe he could help? You knew he referred to himself as a God, so maybe he could do something, but you hadn't seen him for two days either.

Luck was on your side that night when Marc came back to the hotel looking like someone had beat the snot out of him. You saw him yell at the tall being, then he went into his room, slamming the door shut. You wasted no time in leaping from your spot at the gazebo. No one else was around, and you wanted to catch the deity before he faded away into the night.

"Hey, hey! Excuse me. Uh, hello? Big bird guy." You shouted just loud enough to get his attention, but not enough to alert Marc. The bird man tilted his head at you, surprised you had the balls to approach him.

"Are you addressing me, a God? The almighty Khonshu-!"

"Yes. You. I'm talking to you!"

"What the fuck do you want?" This version glared as his chains rattled in an effort to scare you. You laughed at him, which earned you a loud growl of disapproval.

"What do you know about mortals manipulating time to try and save a loved one?" You inquired, and he huffed, like you were dampening his day. But he had nothing better to do, so he moved to sit and stare at you.

"It's been done before. It's no big deal… Unless it is a fixed point of time, or an absolute event." He explained and he rested his skull in his hand.

"What happens if it is a fixed point in time?"

"Then trying to undo the event could destroy this reality. Everything and everyone who is not capable of moving over to a different reality, would perish." He said so casually, like it wasn't something he was worried about in the slightest.

"I know of someone trying to do this. I'm not sure if it's a fixed point in time, but the sorcerer supreme, Wong, mentioned he thinks a woman’s death is one of those absolute time events. If she didn't die, Dr. Strange would never have become a sorcerer." You explained to him, carefully leaving out all of the other realities where it was his hands that were damaged, and not Christine. Khonshu went deathly silent as he pondered your words.

"After a quick glance into the matter, I see now that there is a very high possibility of this sorcerer destroying this world. I cannot allow that to happen."

"I sure hope you can do something about it. I'm scared that he has already amassed enough power to start trying. He's been summoning demons and spirits, and absorbing their powers through their souls." You explained either a heavy sigh.

"I shall do some research and get back to you. I'll make my knight stay in the area…"

"Thank you-"

"No. Thank you, little one. You've kept Jake's cab safe while he's been away, and you've kept his existence a secret. I appreciate that." And with that, he vanished into the void, just as the curtain to Marc's hotel room opened. You froze, realizing you were standing right in front of it, and you sheepishly waved.

The man that came out grinned at you, and he held himself differently than Marc. He looked you over, then he held out his hand.

"Hola, señorita. May I have my keys, please? I'd like to grab my cigarettes." He asked. He spent about a half an hour with you, before he excused himself to go back to bed.

***

The next day the cab was gone, and you sighed. You wished he was there to drive you to the Sanctum, but alas, he was not. You decided to try the ring you had, hoping it worked the way Wong had shown you. It did work, but you ended up being shot from the roof to the floor in the main lobby, right in front of Wong, and some bald person.

"Ah, there is our self taught sorceress. This is the Ancient One." Wong introduced you to the person standing before you. From what you could tell, this was a woman, but you could be wrong.

"Hello. It's good to meet you." You said with the customary bow, and the Ancient One bowed back with a smile.

"I have been told of your dreams. They are an alarming warning about our dear friend. I'm afraid to admit that Dr. Stephen Strange has become a danger to himself and to this world. We might need your help to stop him, since he has never met you before."

"I wish to help in any way that I can."

From that day forward, you were asked to train at the Sanctum. Both Wong and the Ancient One taught you so much more than you could have learned by yourself. Physical defence was a key part of their discipline, and that was an aspect your dreams didn't exactly show you. You would go to train everyday, then at night time, you would get driven back to the hotel by Jake. You'd have more dreams about the doctor, and they became more terrifying as time went by.

He summoned bigger and more powerful creatures, almost never stopping to sleep or eat. Every day you would report back to your teachers, showing them your dreams. Every day they would teach you how to use your own body to attack or defend yourself, using the magic you learned to enhance their teachings.

One night was different from the rest. The doctor was confronted by the Ancient One. It ended up in the doctor being split into two, and the darker, more evil of them, fled into the night.

Weeks went by, with the better side of the doctor joining the Sanctum. He spent his days searching the library, trying to figure out how to defeat his other self, while the evil version got stronger and stronger.

You barely got to directly speak to him, as he would be sitting and reading. Stacks of books from all over littered his desk. You would quietly help him, by trying to look into the books he had already read, to see if you could catch something his eagle eyes missed. During these times, his cape would become agitated that its master was ignoring him, and Stephen would sometimes demand you entertain the sentient cloak so he could continue his research unbothered.

You reluctantly did it, because you hoped to earn some brownie points with him. You soon found out the cloak was a delightful little creature. It acted much like an animal, a cross between a dog and cat. It enjoyed playing fetch, and it went bat shit crazy over a laser pointer. It enjoyed being touched, and sometimes it would follow you to the bathroom, shoving a corner of itself under the door like a cat trying to get in.

Only a few times did Stephen take the time to talk to you. Once when he thanked you for taking the cloak out for a walk, again when you brought him a stack of books he hadn't read yet, and the last time was to ask you to take care of the cloak, should he ever perish.

You learned nothing from him, except that he regretted ever becoming a sorcerer in the first place.

***

Every so often, the odd being would show up, informing you that he had been trying to locate the dark doctor, but because he was split into two, the old bird kept being directed towards the good one. Wherever the bad one was, he wasn't in this plane of existence, but he was still in this universe.

Eventually you had a dream where the dark sorcerer was summoning more beasts, only for it to backfire. A small and not very powerful bug creature appeared, wearing a cape. The doctor took the cape, and incinerated the insect, then he just kept going into the night.

Just the fact that he was doing this was weakening the structural integrity of the universe. You shuddered to think how much worse he could make it, if he started trying to reverse his lost love's death.

***

It got worse about a month later. The good Dr. Strange had left to find his bad side, and to try and fight him to save the universe. The dream you were having right now, proved that the evil side was more powerful, and he absorbed his other half after he defeated him. His cape had managed to flee the scene with the ring it had slipped from its master's fingers.

Now that he was whole, he paused, and his head turned to look directly at you, his dark soulless eyes staring right into yours. You panicked, because that meant he could see you in the dreams.

"Don't try to stop me. I'll kill your precious little cabbie, and his alters, if you try. Not even that useless bird god can stop me."

And then you woke up.

You were sweating, shaking, and trembling. It wasn't just the fact that the doctor had seen you, then outright threatened you. It was the fact you knew you were going to die. Everyone, everywhere, from the farthest corners of the universe, all would be perishing soon. There would be no afterlife for anyone, just nothingness as they ceased to exist.

You panicked more and more, and you left your hotel room, going outside for a joint. It could be very well the last one that you ever had.

Jake was standing outside, smoking as he sat in his car. He saw you come out and snap your fingers to light your joint, then he watched you pace back and forth as you power puffed the doobie. He got out of his car to see what was wrong, and you told him all about the problems that were plaguing you. He quietly listened, and at some point, he glanced up to the rooftops, and you looked, too. There Khonshu was and his shoulders were slumped.

"I'm afraid to inform you that he has begun. He's tried three times already, and now the edges of this universe are starting to crumble. This plane of existence is cracking at an alarming rate, and my guess is that it will be a matter of days, perhaps weeks, until this universe crumbles to dust." Khonshu muttered as he gripped his staff tightly. He looked up at the moon, and then down at his Avatar.

"Is there anything we can do?" You asked, but the way he hummed and looked away, told you what the answer would be.

"No. This world is dying. The Ancient One and Wong are both dead. Most of the Avengers have tried to best him, and they have all failed. Even the mighty God of thunder has perished. Unless this Supreme Strange is killed, or stops trying, there will be no way to save this world. Even I cannot turn back the clock to do it. The only thing I can do is jump ship, and abandon this universe altogether, fusing with one of my alternate versions of myself." Khonshu explained that he couldn't do anything. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

You were scared to die, but for some reason, you were more concerned about his Avatar.

"What about… What about everyone else? What about Jake, Marc, and Steven?" You asked as you fiddled with the ring Wong had given you.

"I can protect him from succumbing to the dark voids that break reality, at least until this world is gone. I can bring him with me, but only him. No one else." Khonshu said the words carefully. You could tell he wasn't trying to be mean or calloused towards you. He probably didn't have the power to take you with them. You didn't try to argue. You didn't try to beg for your own life to be spared. You merely hung your head, happy to know the man with many faces would be safe.

"Wait a minute, boss. What about her?" Jake suddenly spoke up in a panicked tone. He wasn't happy to hear that you would be left here to die.

"She will be fine like you will be, at least until everything fails again. I cannot take her with me to the next universe. You know this already. It's not that I don't want to, I just can't. I could, if I had my true form back, but the other Gods won't give me back my soul that was sealed away in a desert opal. They threw it into the sands of the Duat, and I haven't seen it in a few thousand years." Khonshu muttered with a huff and a heavy sigh.

"Then we must go find this pearl. If we cannot save this world, we can at least try to save her. Please boss…" As Jake pleaded with Khonshu, you heard the whispers again. It sounded like Khonshu was speaking to you, but in your mind, yet the god appeared to be oblivious.

"Your necklace… Show him the necklace…"

You looked around and reached into your shirt, pulling out the greenish glowing opal. Khonshu tilted his head and stepped forward.

"My opal! Where did you get that?!" He snapped as he tried to snatch it from you, but Jake blocked him and snarled.

"Easy, boss. Perhaps be a little nicer. She just found out she's going to die soon."

"Fine. Where did you get that? Please tell me." He sounded only slightly nicer, but you told how you acquired it. He was confused as to how you found it in the desert on Earth, when he was told it was tossed into the Duat. It didn't matter to him that you had it, all that mattered was that it was there, and it wasn't a trick.

Eventually you gave it to him, and Khonshu stuck the opal into the gaping hole where his neck should have been. Slowly he reformed to what the old depictions of him looked like. He had skin and feathers again, his body not nearly as thin as it used to be. The gold he was adorned with was shiny and new as the day they were created. Even his shendyt was perfectly clean and brand new, like he hadn't been stuck in a tomb for thousands of years. He seemed quite pleased.

He stood taller and now you could see the expressions in his eyes, instead of the dark holes they once were. The thick ghostly chains that had surrounded him had changed into thin silver and gold jewelry. 

He agreed to try to try and save this world, now that he was whole again, and at the very least, take you with him if all else failed. He demanded you and Jake get some rest, because tomorrow would truly be a test of strength and will.

***

Thank you 

Beta/proof readers: @Moonmoonboys