#that's what I get for writing at 3am

[hazbinshusk]

not me coming up with dialogue for a fic and thinking 'oh, that's hot shit' only to realise it's from my favourite book series and I'm just ripping off one of my favourite ships lmao

in my defense, both husk and the guy I was stealing the line from are sarcastic hotties with an alcohol addiction... I may have a type.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

thinking about Lucanis again (always). and how so much of his narrative boils down to the theme of "control". and of course also about how this applies to the Rook x Lucanis relationship.

like the first scenes with him in the game are, in theory, about freeing him from the Ossuary (although he seems to have an escape attempt already in progress at the time, they certainly weren't just letting him keep those knives on him for enrichment purposes, Rook just provided an opening/distraction he could take advantage of and crucially Rook has A Way Out of the whole place not just a cell). but ACTUALLY the purpose it to put him right into a new contract for Us, one set up by his own grandmother and first talon no less, and the person he has the MOST trouble saying no to. He's escaped torture and the Venatori for sure but he still isn't free, which I think is part of what leads to Spite's confusion/the Inner Demons plotline. He agrees to the contract but you can tell it's in many parts out of a sense of duty/mourning vs something he actively wants to do for himself. And then the FIRST real heartfelt conversation you have with him, where he tells you "even before I was captured, my life was not really my own. So much had been determined for me." But he's chaffaing at that! He thinks "to live truly is to live fully" and so directly tells you he doesn't think he's lived a life true to himself. He's been constantly smothered by the weight of expectations around him, even though he longs for more.

And then once you get him to the Lighthouse you see how this Big lack of control in his life comes out as all these smaller frustrations. He's terrified of sleeping and downing 11 cups of coffee per hour because sleeping means he will lose control to Spite, even though Spite is shown to flee rather than fight when he feels threatened, and once calmed down, is more drawn to just benign curiosity/mischief than anything actively malicious. Like if Lucanis loses control and sleeps for a few hours he is not going to wake up surrounded by bloodshed, he's going to wake up to a belly full of candle wax because he wouldn't like Spite taste one while they were awake. Which is the other half of this--he constantly denying Spite's impulses for reasons that in some ways make sense (HE doesn't want to eat candles), but not in a way that's actually satisfying to either of them (why not just take a bite, chew for a bit, and spit it out so Spite knows they kind of suck actually?). But he CAN say no to Spite and so he does. Over and over. Spite's one of the few people he can deny things without feeling bad about it, because it's HIS body he doesn't like that has to share now (<- this is what he thinks about it at first anyway, but he's wrong, it's both of theirs and it's useless to try to hold those kind of boundaries forever. but the "no its mine" spiteful instinct is very beautifully ironic and reflective of them both and their early relationship).

And personally I think this is where his fear of his own desires and intimacy is coming from, at the root. I don't think he's afraid of the concept of being in a romance or having feelings (even if they're unusual and rare for him, this is by no means incompatible with him being demi) but I DO think he is afraid of the kind of power it gives people over you. Getting something you want means there's something else that can be taken away. Admitting your desire means the other person has the opportunity to deny that. The more you have, the more you have to lose, and he has lost again and again and again in his life--his parents, his childhood to the crows, his independence, even his future--he doesn't aspire to be first Talon but he knows the rumors. He knows his grandmother wanted it for him, not Illario. His life path has been laid out for him by others and up to this point he has simply been going along with it anyway, even though it bothers him. He COULD argue and fight Caterina and push for Illario who actually wants the job to be First Talon instead, but from The Wigmaker Job we know he doesn't. He just ignores it and pretends maybe it won't happen, without him having to do any of the work. Which is why in the end Illario is the one who has to make a move about it (and even warns Lucanis of this!!!!). Lucanis KNOWS all this makes him a target but is neither taking charge or getting off of the train tracks, just closes his eyes.

And I think THIS context is what makes the almost kiss scene in the pantry make more sense to me. Rather than being afraid of having feelings (and then NEVER addressing this in game with a Rook who pursues him anyway) or not knowing how to finish what he's started via crow seduction training, it's more like this is a pivotal moment where he can actively choose to step off the planned path of be given a job -> kill the gods -> enact revenge -> go home. even if he doesn't at that point realize that a relationship with Rook could be something that lasts long-term, the very act of doing something just for himself is what's foreign and scary and hard. It's that first step off the tracks, and even if he were to keep walking in the same direction, it means he's making a choice about it. he's accepting that one way or another it IS in his power to go along with everyone else's plans or not. Hence the hesitation, and drawing back, and needing to clear his head.

And then the rest of Rook's role in his narrative IS about giving him more and more control for himself. Inner Demons, dealing with Illario, his questlines move less towards revenge and more towards just... not being locked into one fate. Which of course Caterina comes back and immediately tries to overturn by declaring him First Talon after all, even though she and him and everyone else knows she's not ACTUALLY ready to give up her rule/decision making power yet. Which in a way is maddening because cmon I did all this work here so this sad man could have some agency in his own life just to watch him get sucked right back in (which, at least we get many directions to headcanon from here), but there's no denying that THIS version of Lucanis at least is actually going in with his eyes open now. THIS Lucanis has had a taste of life outside the Crows, and seen the politics and power dynamics in other places/organizations, and finally has emotional ties to the big picture state of the world now, both in relationship and friendship paths with Rook. He's not just hyper focused on each contract as it's given to him now, he's looking at the whole thing.

Anyway of course the beautiful culmination of all this within the romance is the lighthouse scene with Rook, where he finally is willing to let himself be vulnerable (emotionally and physically), and fall asleep without fear of what Spite's going to do in the meanwhile. He also (depending on dialogue choice) finally talks about his feelings directly with you for the first time instead of in roundabout ways (the dessert being "not enough" is it really the dessert you mean, Lucanis. is it.). Even though he is STILL reluctant to verbally admit his feelings or let Rook share their own at this point, I think that's more a narrative choice about saving those last emotional dialogue options for the big final battle. but it is another point where he does have to stop just following along and ACTIVELY choose that yes, yes sometimes loving is worth the risk of losing it. Even if someone takes it away from you later, even if you don't survive it, sometimes the love alone makes it worth it.

I have like another 5000 words I could add into about how Spite ties into all this, about how having the demon in him is something he both fears AND how it forces him to acknowledge that actually yes he DOES share the same base feelings/instincts Spite does in terms of not wanting to be told what to do. And how this in a way is part of what gives him permission to act on it since he can no longer just shove it down out of sight. but this post is long enough already so i'm just going to take the rest of this and gnaw on it all day like a chew toy I guess.

anyway. AHG. it is kind of frustrating that the culmination of his arc seems to be "and then he got the job he never wanted anyway" but I do think at least all this prepares him for it in a way Caterina actively failed to actually do on her own. He NEEDED that step away from his straightforward path. Whether he stays first talon or not, and with or without rook as a romantic partner, he's finally been able to explore ideas outside the expectations of others.

[erinwantstowrite]

i think im not a fan of what dc keeps doing with jason because they keep having him, the abused, become an abuser in some way shape or form. and the classism they don't want to talk about (i am being so for real there is a genuine problem of both writers and readers who do not understand jason's background and it pissed me off so bad because it always shapes their opinion of him in the wrong way and they don't care to even try to listen). and how if they were going to have him come back they should have had delved into his identity crisis and the inherent horror of coming back but not knowing how or why or what to do about it and not knowing what you were doing while dead and having to deal with time jumping forward on you and the fact that you will never get the time back and no one will he the same as they were before you died and how isolating and lonely that would be. and they also definitely weren't prepared for the fact that jason was grieving his life and his death and his hopes for his mother and his dad who didn't get there in time and the dc writers are fucking cowards. which brings me to my next point: why do we keep listening to them about shit because they are quite literally always fighting with each other and projecting their own personal biases into characters (i.e. making them worse than they are/2 dimensional/trying to make them iredeemable so their favorite character gets to shine) and also they are all freaks of nature with a consistent problem of being God Awful People who why would we trust them with these characters. jason todd they don't get you like i do

[jouyato]

star-crossed..... or one might say, missile-crossed lovers

pose based off of this lol. my brain was like "brrrr burda dying in the missile" "and they were colleagues"

[wandixx]

Ok it closes out on me when I tried typing it the first time-

Anyway, I'm a sucker for shock value ones, just so funny to me, so how about M'gann being nervous about introducing bf danny and it happens at an inconvenient time! Could go ghost royalty, ancient of space or anything, hell ghost as dragons would be pretty funny, up to you though!

I'm not sure if I did a good job at this, but I didn't want you to wait too long and real life is keepimg me busier than expected, so for now, it's here. I may continue it one day (I also have different version of fill for this prompt, because neither idea felt right, so if you'd like to see I too, just let me know whatever way is most convenient to you)

This wasn't supposed to happen like that. M'gann didn't have a super detailed plan on how it was supposed to happen, but even her vague (thought and rethought every night) ideas were anything but this. It was supposed to be a calm, low-stakes situation. Maybe even make it look like an accidental meeting, Team in civies hanging out around Happy Harbour, bumping into Danny and then she'd just introduced him, perhaps adding ‘btw, he is my boyfriend’ almost like an afterthought. This seemed like the best possible scenario.

This was also, as expected with the way hero life is, the exact opposite of what actually happened.

Of course, it didn’t start with anything heralding the absolute disaster this day had to become. Kinda accidentally the Team stumbled upon something between a cave and a basement, and in it a group of people, who decided to perform a summoning of a genie so they could… wish for stuff. They didn’t even look like cultists or villains of any sort, just a group of random adults from seemingly very different backgrounds. M’gann had a really hard time understanding what actually brought them together other than their wishes.

Which was actually pretty useful when it came to fighting them, because nobody really cared about their fellow summoner, just trying to save their own butt. She kinda wished more of their opponents were so incompetent.

Though, she spoke too soon because in the excitement of the fight, somehow all of them didn’t realize that one or two of the summoners… actually managed to finish a summoning. It was honestly a little bit embarrassing.

But, it was too late to dwell on all that, as right above the summoning circle appeared a circle in a worryingly familiar shade of green.

Of course, this one time she didn’t have any equipment from Danny, had to be when the Team encountered a ghost.

Ghost in question was a beautiful woman, with long hair covering one of her eyes, in a blue outfit that was related to one of Earth cultures, but M’gann didn’t know which, and a bunch of bracelets on her wrists. Martian could make a hazard guess on who it was, based on the stories Danny told her.

“We don’t have time for explanations, I think I know who this is, if I’m right for the love of everything that’s dear to you, don’t say the word ‘wish’ out loud” she demanded over the Mindlink.

Before she finished, Artemis took silver tape from somewhere and slapped a piece of it over Wally’s mouth. M’gann understood the sentiment but still… it was a little bit too nuclear option.

Desiree (if it was her) didn’t attack anyone, looking a bit confused, giving Team a moment of reprieve to plan and for Kid Flash to make sure none of the summoners could make whatever wish they wanted either. Also with the use of silver tape. Djinn’s were always tricky.

M'gann used this moment of everyone getting their bearings to curse herself for not bringing any ghost weapons this time. Any other mission, Team or not, she had something on her but today? Today she had nothing.

Excluding the summoning engraved into clips holding her cape but it was kinda last resort. It wouldn't annihilate everything in one mile radius or something but she didn't want to drag Danny there if he was during a test, other ghost fight or something. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t need more distractions.

Conner crashed into a wall right next to her. Artemis seemed to lose her cool when none of her arrows seemed to reach the ghost while Robin was trying to make some counter plans with Kaldur. They couldn't do a thing to Desiree and it was a matter of seconds before she stopped entertaining them and went to the city. It… would end badly, most likely. Danny would prefer to get involved before it got that far. Yeah…

She really wished she didn’t have to call.

“I have an idea, cover for me for a minute or two”

“Bold of you to assume we can stop her from anything”

“I believe in you Wally. Just distract her”

“My water attacks seem to be effective weapon against her”

“That’s aster! What do you plan to do, M'gann?”

“Summon another ghost”

She expertly ignored yelling that followed, taking the golden clip off of her cape. She held fabric in place with absentminded use of telekinesis, while she focused on an engraved pattern. Danny's summoning circle wasn't actually too complicated or intricate but she needed to do it just right. And frankly, she just liked looking at it. Physical proof that her boyfriend would be there if she needed it. Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand.

And it was beautiful. Absolutely incredible. Much better than Desiree's circle, thank you very much.

M’gann dropped to her knees and grabbed leftover chalk from previous summoning and crouched to quickly draw Danny's seal. She had a lot of practice from all the times she doodled it on a whim just to get something of him with her when she missed him the most. She rarely actually summoned him, again, it was difficult to align their schedules, but she was very familiar with the first step.

And it was really easy from there.

She placed the clip in the middle of the circle, shapeshifted one of her nails to get a bit of blood on the chalk and leaned back.

After a careful, deep breath, she started an incantation, putting as much power in her voice as she could.

“I call upon you guard of Amity Park, I call upon you dearest child of the Ice, I call upon you one favored by the Time, I call upon you vanquisher of the Fear, I call upon you subduer of the King, I call upon you defender and the guide, I call upon Phantom, both worlds beloved child”

Circle erupted in green light, putting a momentary pause to the fight. M’gann was still blinking spots away when a figure flung itself out of the summoning circle, right at the Desiree.

“What the fuck?!”

Only after the first punch was thrown did Danny turn back to her, with his usual, somehow both gallant and bashful smile, that without fault made her knees get a little weaker. She smiled back.

“Hello Starlight” he greeted, sounding almost casual.

“Starlight?”

“Hi Angel. Nice of you to drop by” she answered in the same manner. Wally tried to yell from behind the duck tape.

“Angel?! M'gann, who is he? Who is she?!”

“I will always come if you call” he said without any doubt, suddenly as serious as if he was sharing information that could break or make the world.

It certainly worked like that to her world. She actually melted a little on the inside.

“I know”

“Actually, that's kinda cute. I still have no idea who this is, but you go girl”

“I feel like it's not the right time Artemis”

“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but the other ghost is escaping” Robin cut in “Also, if you want to make out afterwards, please find the room, Batman and Catwoman are traumatizing enough“

Few people snorted, while Danny blushed green. He darted back at Desiree, clearly to escape the embarrassment. M’gann stood up, totally at ease now, that he was there to take care of it.

“Will you need a hand? I don't have any tech but we have a trick or two up our sleeves!” she asked, projecting her voice so it carried through the cavernous basement without yelling.

“I'm good for now but thanks for asking!”

“M’gann, can you give us anything substantial? Who is this? How do you know him?”

“One question at the time and let's wait until he finishes, okay?“

She cut off Mindlink before anyone agreed or protested.

“Miss Martian!”

“Soup time!”

With a blast of light, Desiree got sucked in and Danny landed in front of them with a proud grin.

“My job here is done”

“It truly is. You're getting faster too”

“And thanks to who is that?”

“You”

Danny sent her both an incredulous and playful glare.

“Of course. I miraculously found a ways to not be a mess and don't crash through every wall on my way and–”

“Well, no but–”

“Let me remind you, you're not alone… also who are you dude? And where did the other lady go?” Wally asked, right after ripping the duct tape off his mouth.

“Oh, well, I'm Phantom, I usually work in Amity Park?” he said a bit unsure, as if calling him a protector was under any question. That just wouldn't do.

“He's a hero from Amity Park”

“Thanks love. It's nice to finally meet you all. M talked a lot about you!”

“Can't say same about you, sorry”

“That's fine. I know M was agonizing over how to introduce me in the best way possible. I'm really happy it's finally over,” he paused for a moment, with his brows furrowed “Did I do good? This first impression thing?”

“You're… far less imposing that I personally expected after hearing Miss Martian summoning you, but–”

“M’gann how could you hide this from us?” Conner blurted out quietly, and oh, he sounded so utterly crushed. Everyone fell silent, the playful atmosphere gone as if it had evaporated.

“I never intentionally hid it. It wasn't significant enough to mention at the start and when it became important I felt like I couldn't just drop it at you during lunch or something. I always planned to tell you, there was just never the right time nor right words. I never wanted to hide it.”

“Even just me?”

“Especially you”

“You still should've…”

“Yeah, I should. I'm sorry”

“How long ago have you met?”

“Half a year ago,” Danny said before she managed to answer “It's all kinda my fault actually. I was really set on not getting mixed up with more hero business than I had to back then. I didn't want you or Justice League finding out about me. And when I agreed, it was already really late. I'm sure she'd told you all from the get go if I let her, I'm sorry”

“Why wouldn't you want us to know about you?”

“It's… Probably not the conversation we should have right here, over gagged wannabe cultists.”

“Valid. Let's call the cops and get going. You two have much to explain”

“And you're sitting eight feet apart until you do!”

Danny leaned in to kiss her, quick and playful, before he jumped back at the demanded distance.

“Well, this still went better than at your side”

“Absolutely”

*******

Also, here is some lil arts for a longish wait, sorry again, I hope this story is yours to your expectations

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏

[chimerahyperfix]

This loop has to be the one. Nevermind that you said it last loop, and the one before, and the one before that, and most of the ones before that. THIS was the one you'd stop the King in his tracks. You push a few of your many potions to the side to make room on your desk. None of them worked to stop him, so they were useless. He's still about twelve, fourteen? hours away, so you have enough time to make the bomb, eat and take a fat nap before you go pick a fight. Maybe this time, it'll work! It has to!

You've gotten better at making the Craft Bomb. It hasn't blown up on you before you intended to use it in... a long time. You can make it fast enough, now, for it to still be light outside! You've become silent while you work, which Mirabelle has told you is ''worrying'', but you don't see why it is. Are you really that loud? (Yes. You are.)

It's hard work. Soft light bathes your desk, your work, you. You reach out, past your potions, and grab your water bottle. Take a big swig, and

Hmm. That's not water.

How. HOW do you keep making this mistake. You look at the bottle in your hand, and sure enough, it’s one of the potions; your water bottle is shoved in the back of the collection of other containers. The taste is caustic, your throat begins to burn. You shouldn’t be this calm for having just drank something that’ll kill you in a handful of minutes, but it’s happened before. Despite the pain you don't bother trying anything. Just push the finished bomb to the side and lay your face against the wood of the table. Feel the blood start to pool in your mouth and dribbling out, staining the wood. Mirabelle, or Euphie or whoever comes in next, they can use it this loop. It's not the first time you've drank one of the many, many dangerous potions on your desk, and it's probably not the last. Maybe you'll actually clean the crabbing thing off before you work.

Whatever. You have next time. You have all the time.

Perhaps a bit too much, actually.

[dismas-n-dismay]

Me after reading a typical wtfoctagon fic (it literally is a master class in lesbian writing)

[gertritude-art]

hi aorry if weird dumb ask but your art and characters are awesome rn im at a hellschool (school that is hell) and my supervisor i think legitimately does not gaf about me and kind of wants me to kill myself so i kind of want to sometimes because everybodys so snobbish about art but i thought about ur ocs and atories today i remembered em cause i used to follow a lor of your stuff a few years ago and yeah its make me laugh and smile and not want to die as much, have a good day.

Not a weird ask at all. Creative people are all pretentious blowhards (myself included), and school sucks on all educational levels... I was going to include a personal anecdote here to relate to what you're saying, but I honestly don't think anyone - myself included - needs to revisit those educational times more than necessary LOL <- (deep pain).

Anyway, shit sucks, and I'm sorry your having so much trouble at school... I wish I knew what you were specifically thinking of so I could dig up my art for it for you, but I am glad they were able to help!!! Hooray for amateur art

[andy-clutterbuck]

Happy Valentine's Day

[zakalwe-the-ninth]

Ok but Harrow/Gideon gives me vague Vetinari/Vimes vibes.

I'm not sure I could elaborate if I tried.

[witchysniffles]

cause and effect

So this started because I was inspired by @snezus-christ-risen's tags on this fantastic fic about what if W/anda's spell had left A/gatha with a photic reflex, you know, as a little treat. This was meant to be a short little thing as a break from a couple of longer projects, but well, here we are.

A (somewhat) canon compliant rewrite of the end of ep. 1 ft. photic A/gatha (and a little bit of implied snzfucker R/io, but I feel like that goes without saying at this point). 2.3k words.

CW for canon-typical violence/knife-use and brief mentions of blood.

Please don't reblog to non-kink blogs!

The last thing Agatha remembered—or rather, the first thing she was aware of—was Rio’s voice.

There are two Jane Does in this case, and you know her name. Now what’s yours?

It was torturously slow and horribly unpleasant at first, like dipping her toes into a freezing lake. Nearly every part of her was screaming for her to stop, but there was Rio’s voice urging her on, pushing her to keep going, and even though she knew she should hate her—even if she couldn’t quite remember why yet—she couldn’t come up with a reason not to trust her. And so she dove head first into that frigid water until she found herself gasping and clawing her way back to the surface. The world around her was blurring, fading in and out of focus, and then suddenly everything was still.

The second things she noticed simultaneously as she settled back into herself and opened her eyes were that she was standing in her living room—or rather, what her living room would look like if she had suddenly decided to start a true crime podcast—and that she was completely fucking naked.

The third thing that she became aware of as she turned towards the bright sunlight streaming in through the open window behind her was that she quite suddenly really needed to—

“HhEITSHhiu!”

The first sneeze tore out of her faster than she could prepare for it, and it was followed immediately by another rapid, burning build-up that she managed to catch against her open palm. “HehT’TSH! Ugh, fuck!”

She ran through a quick check of her body: no congestion, no fever, no watery eyes or wheezy breath or anything else to indicate that that was anything other than a random sneeze. Annoying, sure, but otherwise inconsequential, and frankly she had much bigger things to worry about.

Like the fact that the Darkhold was gone.

And even more pressingly, for the first time in her whole life, Agatha couldn’t even feel her own magic. For as long as she could remember, it had always been there, humming and swirling beneath her skin with an energy all its own, but a halfhearted attempt at the most basic of light spells proved what she already knew in her bones: the Darkhold was gone, and it had taken every ounce of her power with it.

Rage and terror burned in her chest in equal measure, and she screamed into the stillness of the air. There was no one around to hear, and it didn’t really make her feel any better, but it felt better than doing nothing.

She snatched a robe off a hook by the stairs and slipped it on as she started for the basement door. She knew exactly what she was going to find—or rather, what she was missing—at the bottom of the steps, but it still set a sick feeling rolling in the pit of her stomach when she saw not a trace of magic, not a single spellbook or grimoire, not even a rune. She stared in disbelief at the laundry setup and the hot water heater and the tool shelves covered in a thick layer of dust that almost made her nose tickle again just by looking at it.

She was about to storm back upstairs when a small squeak from behind a bin labeled ‘Holiday Table Settings’—ugh—caught her attention. Señor Scratchy hopped out into the open, and Agatha felt a rush of relief at seeing him safe. She swept him up and knelt on the cold basement floor, nuzzling her face against his soft fur.

“I got mugged, mister,” she murmured. “She took every little bit of power I had and left me with household appliances. We gotta get back on top.” She kept her fingers moving in the rabbit’s thick fluff as she let her gaze wander around the basement. It was all so pedestrian, and so fucking dusty. Would it have killed Agnes to have picked up a rag at any point in the last…however long it had been?

Señor Scratchy, for his part, seemed more than happy to stay in Agatha’s arms as long as she’d have him, and right now, Agatha wanted nothing more than to just hold him until she could convince herself this was all just a horrible dream. The only problem was that even without actively disturbing any of the dust around her, her nose was starting to itch in earnest, so she scooped the rabbit up as she got to her feet and hurried up the basement steps before things could get any worse.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust from the dim light of the basement to the sunlight streaming into hallway. “HE’TSschiu—‘TSCH!” Agatha had barely even felt the sneezes come on this time, and she cursed under her breath as she recovered. Whatever kept making her do that, it was getting really old, really fast.

Startled by the noise, Señor Scratchy started wiggling to get free and Agatha leaned down to set him on the floor.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Who needs you anyway?”

She scrubbed her wrist under her nose and started to make her way towards the kitchen to see what Agnes had in the way of real food when a flash of movement outside caught her attention. She couldn’t tell at first what—or who—it was, but she stiffened in place and waited, her whole body on high alert, until everything suddenly happened all at once.

One second, it was deadly calm, and then the next, the front door crashed open and flew off its hinges. Sunlight flooded into the dim interior, and Agatha barely had time to get a hand up before her traitorous fucking nose picked that moment to start burning again. She sneezed twice into her cupped palm, and she had no time to recover before she was blasted backwards by a gust of wind that knocked her into the wall and sent her tumbling onto the floor.

Agatha looked up, and there she was, stalking into Agatha’s house like she fucking owned the place, dressed all in black with a murderous look on her face that should not be making Agatha’s insides stir the way that it did. There were a thousand thoughts and feelings boiling inside of Agatha as she got to her feet, but before she could even think about a next move, another strong gust knocked her back into the wall, and then Rio was on her, knife unsheathed and held at her throat, Agatha’s trembling hands on Rio’s wrist the only thing keeping it from slicing her open.

“I’ve missed you,” Rio said playfully.

“I hate you,” Agatha spat back.

 “How long has it been, Agatha?”

“Not sure,” Agatha said. Her eyes flitted from the knife to Rio’s face and back again. Every inch of her felt raw and exposed; she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt quite so powerless in her life.

“Since you acquired the Darkhold? You hid behind all that dark magic?” Rio’s voice was shaking, and if Agatha didn’t know better, she’d swear there was a glassy sheen over those brown eyes boring into her. “But then you lost it, and now…” Rio gripped the knife’s hilt with her second hand, and pressed the tip of it into the skin at the base of Agatha’s throat. “Touch.” Agatha winced at the sting of it as it bit in, and bared her teeth as she felt a trickle of blood run down her chest. “You’re vulnerable.”

There were tears burning hot in Agatha’s eyes, and she was hyperaware of the quiver in her voice as she spat out “Only physically.”

In one sharp movement, Agatha grabbed Rio by the hair to wrench her head to the side. They wrestled for control of the knife until Agatha managed to get it stabbed into the wall. Rio grinned hungrily at her, and Agatha let out a mirthless laugh. In another lifetime, this might have had a very different ending, but in this one, Rio’s hand tightened around Agatha’s neck, and the next thing Agatha knew, she was thrown towards the kitchen, crash landing on the floor with a groan.

Rio retrieved her knife out of the drywall and whipped it at Agatha, who managed to deflect it off the back of a displaced sheet tray. It hit the floor, and in the mad scramble for it, Agatha found herself in the path of a long shaft of sunlight that made her eyes burn and—oh fuck not now!

Agatha stopped dead. Her hand was already curled around the blade of the knife, and she gasped, not entirely sure if it was from the pain or just her breath hitching in the split second before she—“Hh’ETSH! hEH’YSHeu—‘EHSHhiew!”

“Huh.” Rio stopped and seemed to study Agatha’s burning face, looking from her to the window behind her and back again. “Well that’s new.”

Before Agatha could collect herself any further, Rio surged forward and grabbed both her knife and Agatha’s face, her hand under Agatha’s jaw, her nails pressing nearly hard enough to draw blood. She pulled Agatha back up and they hit the wall again, except this time there was no knife between them. It was a familiar enough position that Agatha couldn’t tell if the shaky little breath that slipped past her parted lips was from fear, fury, arousal, or a heady combination of all three.

Rio was so close, and she pressed even closer as she placed the tip of her knife against the side of Agatha’s nose, tracing the shape of it with the point of the blade, lightly enough to almost tickle.

Arousal was definitely winning out now, but that realization just made her angrier.

“That Scarlet Bitch really did a number on you, huh?” The point of the knife slid upwards to the top of Agatha’s nose right between her eyes, where Rio used it to draw out a gossamer-thin tendril of red magic that glimmered and twisted in the air for just a moment before it snapped back and disappeared against Agatha’s skin. It left a cold, tickly feeling deep in her sinuses, but she’d be damned if she let Rio see that.

“Hmm,” Rio mused. “Effective, but the work itself is clunky. I’m not surprised it’s got some lasting physical effects.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Agatha snapped.

Rio raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Without breaking eye contact or her grip on Agatha’s face, Rio sheathed her knife and thrust her free hand out to the side. A sudden burst of wind forced the dining room curtains open. As bright rays of midmorning sunlight streamed into the room, Agatha felt that infuriating itch flare deep in her nose again. It happened so fast she didn’t have time to even try to cover—not that Rio would have let her—and with her back quite literally against the wall and Rio still holding her in place, she was powerless as her breath hitched, her eyes fell shut, and—“EH’TSCHhu—‘TSHEW! Hh-ITSHU!”

“Oh, bless you,” Rio purred. “Did that make it a little more clear?”

Of course just trapping Agatha’s mind and stealing her power wasn’t enough. No, Wanda’s shoddy spellwork just had to leave her with a fucking sneeze reflex, and a damn sensitive one at that.

Agatha kept her eyes closed a little longer than was strictly necessary. She could feel Rio’s gaze on her, burning hot enough to make her flush. Rio finally let go of her jaw and traced a finger lightly down the side of Agatha’s nose. It wrinkled involuntarily and Rio chuckled.

“It’s cute,” she said. “Shame we couldn’t have some more fun with that.”

“Did you come here for a reason,” Agatha snapped, “or are you just trying to be a cunt?”

Rio scoffed and shook her head incredulously. “You should consider yourself lucky I’m the one that found you,” she said. “You’ve lost your shield. And now any witch with a beating heart and a score to settle could track you down. In fact, I’d wager there are probably some on their way here already.”

Agatha’s blood ran cold. “You don’t mean—”

“The Salem Seven,” Rio confirmed with a nod. “I expect you’ll see them at sundown.” She looked down and took Agatha’s bloody hand in her own, her fingers far too soft for the message she was delivering. “After all these centuries, Agatha Harkness will finally meet her end. Ugh, it really warms the heart.”

“You don’t have a heart,” Agatha snapped.

“Yes, I do.” Rio squeezed her hand, and stared intensely into Agatha’s eyes. “It’s black. And it beats for you.”

She raised Agatha’s hand to her mouth and licked it, dragging the flat of her tongue up Agatha’s palm without breaking eye contact. The moment she released it, Agatha snatched it back like she’d been burned. She didn’t have to look to know the cut had disappeared.

Rio shouldered past her with a wry chuckle and paused in the space where Agatha’s front door had been. She glanced down at the debris on the floor and then back at Agatha.

“Te veo,” she said softly before stepping through the doorway.

Agatha took a moment to collect herself—let her eyes fall shut and took a deep breath in and out—in an attempt to calm her racing heart and stormy mind. It didn’t do much good, and before she could think better of it, she scrambled towards the doorway, not even thinking about how bright it was outside until it was too late.

“Heh’ETSCHhiu! God f-fuh-fucking da—AT’TYSHieu!”

Rio was nowhere to be seen, but there was a part of Agatha swore she could almost hear her teasing laughter on the breeze. With a frustrated growl, Agatha turned and stalked back into her house. First order of business before fleeing the vengeance seekers: find some goddamn sunglasses until the last of this cursed fucking spell was out of her system.

[timelessbian]

cannot believe i have to just go about my life like a normal person after this i fear i need 3-5 business days to process my thoughts and recover!!

[dangaer]

shi.n's amnesia later route is such an out of character experience bc wdym someone this cute shows me all the love they have for me and i dont healthily communicate with him that im feeling overwhelmed by it.

[crescentfool]

i love ryomina

no but seriously. even when i’m thinking about other things that captivate my interest, i find myself coming back to them and feeling like i fell down three whole flights of staircases every time i do. they are one of my favorite pairs in media and are very special to me.

it’s the way that ryoji and minato’s lives are inevitably intertwined with each other due to the circumstances 10 years ago on the moonlight bridge. without no minato, there is no ryoji. minato as he is today is because of ryoji. they have irreparably affected each other’s lives that you cannot discuss one without bringing up the other one.

ryoji mochizuki, who is death, pharos, thanatos, nyx avatar, the man of many names and identities, is the perfect summation of p3′s messages and themes.

minato arisato, the wildcard and protagonist, who has boundless kindness in his actions despite the unfortunate cards handed to him.

the two of them complement each other and tell a beautiful story from start to finish.

minato’s personas capture this perfectly. he awakens to orpheus, who’s flames burns bright, is snuffed out by thanatos during the encounter against the arcana magician. a visual precursor of the idea that ryoji stole from the life that minato could have had.

it’s the way that over the course of the game as minato interacts with pharos, talking throughout the dark hour, forging a bond that cannot be broken, that allows ryoji to exist. minato humanizes death.

november. the bells toll, calling the appriser. and yet, it’s peaceful... quiet, and full of life. ryoji, who breaks free from death’s chains, refusing his role, is given the chance to live for a month. to make the most of the humanity that minato has given him over those ten years. and what a life he lived. ryoji’s life is a reflection of what minato’s life could have been like in another universe.

it is the way the two of them are reflections of each other. ryoji with his hair down is just like minato. they are both stubbornly committed to choosing to be kind, to love life, yet are chained down by the cards the narrative dealt them with. they finish each other’s sentences, knowing each other intimately in a way no one else does.

how is that, a boy who lived for only one month, profoundly changes the course of the narrative? he is simultaneously relevant and irrelevant. blink, and you miss it, the beautiful life that he led.

ryoji is horrified at the revelations of being the appriser. he who so desperately wished to forget that his existence was meant to bring the end to all life, was unable to escape the inevitability of death. in a non-human way, of course. he becomes remorseful. a shadow of his brief time as a human who was enamored by the small beautiful things that life had to offer.

he is swallowed by grief. grief knowing that his very existence will take away not only minato’s life, but everyone else’s. the very thing that ryoji loved- life, fundamentally went against the role he was born for- to be the harbinger of death. and unable to grapple with this sadness he believes that the best thing for minato to do is to kill him, so that SEES can live in bliss not knowing about their inevitable end.

SEES is left rattled, calling into question what the meaning of life is and what they do when faced against the inevitability of death.

and!!! minato chooses!! for ryoji to live!! even in spite of what ryoji is MEANT to embody, minato still stubbornly chooses to defy death itself! and if that’s not cool i don’t know what is!! minato wants everyone to have the chance to live!!

so he climbs. he ascends tartarus, to meet ryoji, again, who is now the nyx avatar. and i just think there’s something so so beautiful about being able to use messiah, minato’s ultimate persona, against nyx avatar.

messiah, being the fusion of orpheus and thanatos is peak ryomina to me. because ryoji and minato have established an unbreakable bond from having been entwined for 10 years, minato still has a piece of death with him, and by proxy!! ryoji is able to defy and rebel against nyx trying to bring the fall! and i think that’s fucking cool shit if you ask me!

even when all of the arcanas have been gone through, it’s still not enough to stop the fall. and yet. minato knows. in the way that ryoji was sealed in minato 10 years ago by aigis... minato becomes the great seal so that everyone can live. it comes full circle.

march rolls around. he fulfills his promise to SEES on graduation day. minato dies from exhaustion. but goddamn does his sacrifice make me weep- he’s had such, such a tiring journey. he’s been through so many things because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. but at the end of it all, he’s reunited with ryoji in death.

and i think this is why ryomina continues to evoke so much emotions for me, to this day. the relationship that they have embodies so much of persona 3′s messages and themes that it makes me feel like a microwave with nothing running in it.

p3′s message is very hopeful, for me. my favorite takeaway from it is that even if death is inevitable, appreciating the life that we were given and choosing to live as best as we can with kindness (even if we can’t feasibly do everything), is just? really nice? and you see this manifest in both ryoji and minato’s personalities and what they do for the other characters.

ryomina just feels so distinct to me, the flavor that their relationship ties back to my favorite takeaways from this game and im just!!  god!! i love you minato arisato! i love you ryoji mochizuki! im so glad that i could meet them! i’m happy that they changed my life! they made me want to appreciate the connections in life even if they were fleeting! they made me!! want to pay attention to the good moments in life and cherish them!

i love ryomina so much!!! i’m so glad that these two could bring so much joy into my life! and i hope that others can have this joy too! 💛💙

[3amfanfiction]

You know what I honestly hope and believe comes after death?

Nothingness. The same thing you feel when you’re deeply asleep. No awareness. But not in an ended sort of way.

Bear with me here.

There’s a cartoon sketch I remember reading of two snowmen looking at the spring sun and one says do you believe in the water cycle? And the other scoffs and says that they just water the grass when they melt and he’s okay with that.

I think we go through our own water cycle. I hope that after we die, we’re broken down to our smallest pieces that are reused in a trillion different ways.

Our pieces break apart and attach to other’s pieces. These new pieces become something a little bit bigger before mixing with 2 different pieces and morphing again.

Some parts of us soak into the ground, seeping down, down, down until we merge with groundwater.

Some parts of us evaporate and get carried away by the breeze. Mixed and swirled with things moving through you that you can’t observe.

Some of us get drunk. Entering another’s bloodstream until you are carried far away and are once more expelled. What do snowmen know of the bloodstream of a squirrel?

You never die— you’re still all there just not in a format you recognize. But keep in mind that for as infinite as the water cycle is, our pieces’ cycle is just as long. The odds of anything are possible which means sometimes, when everything happens just right . . . a few pieces of you happen to match back up together in the next cycle.

If we’re going back to our comic we would say that after the snowmen melted, all the atoms/pieces that made up one specific drop of water manage to keep themselves together through the water cycle. They evaporate into the sky. They move into clouds. The clouds release water. The water freezes and becomes snow. And all those original atoms which happened to stay together, become a single snowflake again.

The odds are low but they’re not zero in the infinite.

I think we see this in the people who say they can remember a past life. For the ones who swear they lived in different times. I think enough of their pieces came back together to give them a small glimpse of who they were.

In no way are they the same as the original. They have a mix of too many other pieces for that to happen, but what they do have is enough for an echo. An echo of the energy that it once held.

It’s not reincarnation but it’s certainly not death either.