#wanted to focus on dialogue

[akakumoeteru]

"Have you chosen a name yet?" "Lan Yuan. Lan Sizhui."

[citrusandrottefruit]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Over the centuries, many poets, writers, painters, and sculptors were suspected of having Hanahaki. It seemed appropriate for an artist. A disease as poetic as it was tragic.

That's why, despite its rarity, Hanahaki was a famous disease.

Books, movies, plays, songs. It wasn't uncommon to find some portrayal of Hanahaki in the media. Everyone had some romantic and silly idea of ​​what it was like to have Hanahaki.

Usually, this knowledge was limited to emotional triggers and the fact that the sufferer lived with a chest full of roots. Sometimes, people believed that Hanahaki could be cured through love.

Steve hated that idea.

Because he knew nothing would cure him. He could get a lung transplant, a heart transplant, a liver transplant, a kidney transplant, or any other organ that failed. The most likely outcome was his lungs. He would probably need a lung transplant one day, considering how much scar tissue he had accumulated in his chest. Pulmonary fibrosis was a bitch.

But he wouldn't be cured, he would just have more time.

His mother had managed to improve her quality of life by following Mr. Harrington around the world. They even seemed quite happy sometimes. Steve figured that staying away from him, having few feelings for him, helped too, after all, he was one less thing for Mrs. Harrington to worry about, since she put most of her feelings into her husband.

And if not even his mother, who understood him better than anyone else in the world, was capable of truly loving him, who would be?

Hanahaki could not be cured through love, and Steve preferred it that way, or he would have to face the reality that he was not loved as much as he wanted.

But Hanahaki could be controlled as long as he was on medication, treating the complications, monitoring the disease, and having a support network. People who would take care of him, who would not hurt him so easily. Being loved so intensely helped, because his body would understand love. It would not cure the disease, but it would ensure a slower progression, giving his body more time to recover.

The positive side of the Upside Down was this. Steve gained the children, Robin and Eddie. With Eddie, came Wayne. And even Joyce and Hopper cared immensely for him, even if they were more busy being the parents their children deserved. Nancy and Jonathan were a more complicated subject, and yet they were trustworthy.

Steve found himself surrounded by more love, loyalty and protection than he could have ever dreamed of.

The negative side, besides all the trauma, was that having so many people close to his heart meant that each of them had immense power over Steve, and, except for Robin, none of them knew it.

So when Eddie and Wayne left, he smiled and accepted it graciously. He tried to help them move, but his health had become increasingly declining and they rejected any help. Instead, he simply wandered around their new house, watching as the people he had grown to love, who shared so much of his pain, fears, and traumas, helped make it a home.

When he got tired, Steve decided to sit in the garden and eventually fell asleep there.

That was another thing Steve had learned to hate: it seemed like the disease had decided to finish him off. Even though he had been sick for most of his life, everything was manageable, easy to hide except for the flare-ups. When the flare-ups were over, he would bounce back and be his old self again. A tired, aching, constantly medicated young man. Not anymore.

He would have terrible days, get a little better, and then have a worse day. It was like taking 3 steps back, 2 steps forward, and then 2 steps back again.

It had become impossible to go a whole day without taking at least one nap.

When he woke up, restless and with his heart racing, it was still light out, so it couldn't have been that long. Robin was there, staring at him intently through her hair, her eyes a little teary.

"You scared me, Dingus." Steve blinked, still feeling a bit of the brain fog that was becoming more and more common. "Your parents still pay for your health insurance, don't they?"

For the next three weeks, Steve and Robin were absent from activities and meetings with everyone else a lot. Steve because he had to go for tests, Robin because she wanted to be with him through it all.

"It's good that you have such a great girlfriend, Steve." The doctor, who had known Steve for years, commented almost too happily. "It'll be good for your health." The look of pity she usually wore when she met Steve seemed softer.

He had some blocked bile ducts, and they put in biliary stents. His platelets were low, and he received a transfusion. Since there were too many remnants of roots in his chest and throat, Steve had to stay in the hospital for two nights, dissolving and aspirating everything, to make sure he would be okay to go home.

He was also given a vitamin supplement, his medication was adjusted, and he discovered that he would need beta blockers to slow his heart rate and reduce the chances of having an upper gastrointestinal hemorrhage.

They also discussed the possibility of another surgery. Steve refused.

On the way home, Robin tried to convince him to accept it, to remove all the roots, every single one of them. “I don’t want to. With each surgery, there are more scars.”

“Who cares about a few scars? Steve! You… You never did, why now? Nobody gives a shit about that, and if some girl complains about it, she doesn’t deserve you!”

“On my lungs, Robin. I don’t think it’s worth another surgery right now, because it’ll just give me more scar tissue. They’re too deep, so it’s probably better to wait for them to get worse rather than dig through my chest to rip them out. Eventually, I’ll need a transplant, I guess, and I figure it’s better to put off unnecessary risks until there’s no other option. I don’t know. Does that make sense? I don’t want to have another surgery, just to delay the inevitable. Maybe it’s stupid, but…”

He paused, trying to find ways to say what he wanted to say.

“Sometimes I think if I keep doing all this, I’ll be so patched up that there won’t be anything left in the end. It’s stupid, isn’t it?” Steve laughed self-deprecatingly.

After that, they sat in silence until they reached Steve's apartment, and before they went in, Robin grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes with such intensity that he wanted to squirm.

"I'll be your donor, Steve. I have two perfectly healthy lungs."

"Robin…" She swung her arms so aggressively that she almost hit the door, and Steve's hand, which was still between hers, froze in midair. Robin's eyes widened even more, and she pulled his hand again desperately, as if letting go would make him disappear into thin air.

“If I’m not a match, I’ll steal it, Dingus. I swear I’ll steal all the organs you need with my own hands.”

Steve laughed and hugged him, because what else was there to do?

They spent the whole night snuggled up on the couch, watching movies until they fell asleep. Steve, who spent the whole day taking naps and had insomnia at night, woke up after a few hours, as usual, and almost went to Eddie’s room, before he remembered that Eddie wasn’t there anymore.

Steve coughed, just a little, with longing.

He looked at Robin, illuminated by the soft glow of the television, then looked out onto the balcony and, despite his better judgment, woke her up, who was alarmed until she realized he was smiling.

"I’m in love with Eddie."

[nessacousland]

Well, I finally finished Dragon Age: Friendship is Magic and that is *my* biggest regret.

[lyriumsings]

The assumptions people are making on Veilguard bc ALL decisions won’t carry over are insane to me “OH so morrigan won’t mention her ONLY SON!! or her roMANCE??”. We have no idea what context or capacity she’s going to be in the game? In skyhold, she stayed at skyhold for a while, so it made sense to chat her up and ask about her life. Also Kieran was THERE bc he was TEN. Kieran is now in his twenties and most likely living his own life. If we’re saving the world and fighting darkspawn WHY would her grown ass son come up? Esp when she doesn’t even know Rook?? Like i would understand if we had veilguard in our hands and people were complaining bc Morrigan actually had dialogue invalidating their canon but for fuck’s sake the game isn’t even out yet. They’re saying it doesn’t matter as in it’s not gonna come up bc Rook is busy doing other shit, rather than quizzing characters who aren’t companions on their lives. “What about Varric”. Varric seems to have a pre-established relationship with Rook which means you can headcanon that they already had the talk about Varric’s life story considering he called them his “second in command”. Like cancel your preorders, preorder, do whatever you want no one on the internet is the boss of you. But oh my fucking god complaining about something you don’t even fully know about is already getting so old. Best case scenario, you’re right and i guess your bitching is validated yay for you ig. Worst case, you’re wrong and like wasted so much time and energy bitching for nothing. Like I completely understand being upset the choices don’t carry over, it IS disappointing! But we don’t even KNOW what it’s going to affect if anything at all. It’s just so funny how everyone was like “it’s not about the Inquisitor” and now that the focus is confirmed to be pretty much entirely on Rook and the inquistor’s choices barely seem to matter in game and half of everybody has lost the plot bc of it and we don’t even actually know how this will affect the game like ????

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Are those little dolls made to look like 3zun as animals in the most recent comic? I need to know how/when Nie Mingjue got those. Are they gifts from Lan Xichen or Nie Huaisang? Did Jin Guangyao sew them himself and stuff them full of evil talismans in case the song didn't work? So many possibilities.

The 3zun dolls were a self-indulgent reference to this (previously abandoned) doodle! As for who made them in universe? I'll leave it up for interpretation B*)

[himbohimhoe]

Holding out hope that the writing in veilguard will get more bearable but rook saying to lucanis that it's "not nice that Spite hurt him" and he "shouldn't accept that it’s fine bc it wouldn't be ok if a person did that" like. That is a demon. Built off a single emotion called SPITE. Rook I am finding it really hard to believe that u have lived in thedas for more than 30 seconds.

[t-u-i-t-c]

"You're looking for a place to die, aren't you?" "A place to die...?"

[slightlyunconventional]

long overdue second dbhwks fic (2.8k)

SLAVED AWAY at this for days (i didnt. i could have done it in one but i procrastinated so much it’s unbelievable. but heres some food) quite happy w how it came out too if i do say so myself,, hope u enjoy!! 🫶

-

“Sorry I’m late.” Dabi. He’s picked the damn lock again. 

“Oh my god, do you seriously not know how to knock?” Hawks calls back, practically skipping into the living room. 

“Don’t wanna stand around outside your door like a creep, thanks,” deadpans the villain. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“You look like more of a creep picking the lock, but sure. Come here.”

He takes Dabi by the hand and leads him toward the couch. His fingers are warm, like usual. God, has Hawks missed that. Between hero work, villainy, and conflicting schedules they’d barely had time to see each other and, man, was it miserable. It takes everything in him not to bowl Dabi over with an absolutely suffocating embrace - it’d probably kill the man. 

Dabi raises his eyebrows. “You cleaned?” 

Hawks had expected Dabi to notice, but not point it out, so he’s a little caught off guard by the halfway-question. “Oh, yeah,” he says, a fraction sheepishly, “Is it too much?”

“Mm, no, looks good,” Dabi smirks, “Makes a nice change from all the crap you’ve usually got lying around.” Hawks hits him playfully and he laughs, clear and smooth, not at all like the peals brimming with malice he’d usually hear from Dabi.

“Uuugh, I hate you, leave me alone,” he complains. When Dabi’s eyebrows raise again, Hawks pulls a face and adds, “I’m a busy man! I don’t have time to clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m flattered.”

He sits Dabi down on the couch, maybe a little too eagerly, and comes down to straddle the taller man’s lap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Dabi’s with an urgency that only comes from being deprived of seeing one’s lover for far too long. Dabi loosens underneath Hawks and they quickly fall into a long practised pattern, all pretences dropped for this moment of touch-starved tenderness. Nothing exists outside of this room, everything is so warm, and Hawks melts even more when he feels Dabi smile against his lips.

“Seems like someone missed me,” murmurs the villain, voice sleek and low. The response is simply a hand laced through the dyed-black hair at the back of Dabi’s head, taking hold of him and pulling him closer with nothing short of absolute need. In turn, Dabi’s hands find the small of Hawks’ back, and heat begins to pool in his stomach as they slowly threaten to sneak closer to the bases of his wings. And his lips are warm, so warm, and he always seems to know exactly what to do with them to make Hawks collapse like putty in his hands. For a crazed villain who incinerates shit for fun, Dabi’s a fucking good kisser. 

…And a tease, apparently! Hawks knows that Dabi knows how badly he wants this, and how long he’s been waiting - yet he still seems to be taking his sweet time. He can feel the villain absently tracing circles into his back, with the same pace as his mouth is working against Hawks’. The little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing; well, two can play at that game. Hawks takes it as a challenge, takes Dabi’s scarred face between his hands, and takes control. He presses closer, kissing the man with some previously unseen vigour, practically forcing him to match the increased pace. A little wave of triumph passes through Hawks as he hears Dabi’s breath catch in the back of his throat, nearly silent, but they’re close enough that nothing can really go unheard. Feeling like he’s succeeded, Hawks goes to indulge further, perhaps elicit some more reactions like that, when he feels Dabi’s hand leave his back. Before he can register it properly, the hand is upon his chest, pushing with some insistence. Hawks pulls away, panicked.

“Oh, shit, fuck, sorry, was that too much?”

The arm Dabi has outstretched towards Hawks’ chest slackens slightly, as do his facial features. He doesn’t reply, but rather his lips part and his eyes glaze over, forming an expression so laced with vulnerability that Hawks is almost taken aback - though, he can’t dwell on the display for long, as he’s quickly instead watching Dabi bring his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, up to his own face and press it most firmly to the underside of his nose. His chest rises once with an inhale not unlike before, only this time a little louder and deeper, and he ducks forward slightly with two slightly-awkwardly stifled sneezes.

“hhahh-! ..hh’nGXT! kxNTsh! Ugh, fuck.”

“Oh!” Hawks says, a little surprised, “Bless you.” A part of him wants to chide the villain for holding it in like that, but he refrains, knowing full well he himself would stifle exactly the same.

Dabi hums in lieu of a thanks, and Hawks returns his hand to his boyfriend’s face and leans back in.

“Can I go back to kissing you now?” he murmurs.

Dabi rolls his eyes but drapes his arms lazily over Hawks’ shoulders, an invitation, yes, you can go back to kissing me now. Their lips interlock once again, picking up where they left off, with Hawks feeling absolutely on top of the world from the fact that he’s doing the work here, he’s the one kissing Dabi, not the other way around. He’s never been opposed to Dabi taking control, in fact he loves being ravaged by the man, but sue him, sometimes it feels good to be the one doing the ravaging. However, his elation at this seems to be poorly concealed, or perhaps Dabi just wants to knock him down a peg, because Hawks feels teeth closing on his bottom lip. Not so hard that it hurts, but just enough to tease an audible gasp from him as he tenses up on Dabi’s lap. He’s fairly certain he’s never needed someone all over him so badly until this point. Clearly it shows, too, since Dabi insists on being such a menace and playing the long game with him. Well, Hawks decides that’s not going to fly; he presses in closer, almost entirely closing the gap between them and slides his other hand behind Dabi’s head, not-so-subtly tugging him closer and kissing him harder, once more regaining the upper hand. He takes to gently thumbing back and forth against the base of Dabi’s neck, to which the man lets out, involuntarily, a little noise of satisfaction, finally accepting submission. Hawks is almost tempted to bite Dabi back, but maybe that’d be pushing his luck. Besides, this side of Dabi - soft, pliant, accepting - is one he rarely sees, and he’s kind of into it. It’s a good look on the villain. 

Before long, however, their rhythm is broken once again. One of the arms laying around Hawks’ neck begins to move, and the hand meets his shoulder. Hawks has a sneaking feeling he knows what’s coming (for the second time), as Dabi’s hand pushes against his shoulder - slowly, though, as if he’s really trying to prolong the inevitable. It really doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away, so Hawks does it for him, gently separates their faces, strangely endeared by Dabi’s reluctance - and it seems he did so at exactly the right moment. Being so close to him, Hawks can easily see the way his face immediately crumples, eyes flickering shut and lips parting with an inhale that sounded as though it had been waiting to be drawn for… a while. In a split second, he’s tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand with some urgency, and Hawks catches the flare of his nostrils right before he pinches his nose, clamping the thick black fabric over the bottom half of his face. There’s hardly six inches between the two of them, so Dabi twists awkwardly to the side with a set of cruelly stifled sneezes.

“hh’GKTtch! ‘KXXSHh! Ugh, god– h-hahH’KGXt’sh!”

They sound harsher this time around, harder to stifle, probably.

“Bless,” says Hawks, “You okay?”

“Mm… yeah, just something really… stings,” Dabi replies. He’s knuckling the side of his nose with some force.

“You’re, uh, not getting sick are you?” Hawks asks, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness that seeps into his tone. As much as he loves the man, he’s got some long days on patrol coming up soon, and a cold from Dabi would severely compromise him.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Kei.”

“Right-! Yeah, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t really think there.” Hawks grimaces internally at himself, and Dabi shakes his head.

“Ugh, Jesus, hold on–” He turns away again, breath wavering, “hehh’nGXKt!” A shaky exhale escapes from him as he releases his nose.

“So, what’s got you all worked up, then?” asks Hawks, teasing.

Dabi half-sighs, half-groans, and replies, “Don’t know, but I wish it would fucking stop.” As if for emphasis, the sentence is punctuated with an irritated-sounding sniffle.

“Well, it probably would if you stopped stifling like that,” Hawks says pointedly. That earns him a hazy blue-eyed glare… that doesn’t last long, since Dabi’s squinting again, and his mouth curls up into the beginnings of something akin to a snarl. Hawks smirks as he ducks into the crook of his sweater-clad elbow to muffle yet another sneeze.

“hehH’DSHHh’uh! What the fuck?”

At least he didn’t stifle it.

Hawks hums. “Bless you.” He sends a feather to retrieve a box of tissues, then decides the villain probably also needs some space, so he manoeuvres himself gracelessly off Dabi’s lap to sit beside him on the couch. 

“Very elegant,” Dabi remarks.

“Ugh, shut up,” he replies, elbowing Dabi in the ribs. The laugh this elicits almost straight away rises into a staggered gasp, that itself turns into a pair of hastily covered sneezes.

“hhahH’KXXTshuh! hh’huuhh’DZSHHhue!”

“Jeez, bless you.”

Dabi sniffles thickly. “Yeah.”

Hawks’ feather zips back into the room and drops a box of tissues into Dabi’s lap - the thicker, softer ones that the hero always insists on buying despite them being double the price of regular ones. 

“Sounds like they’re getting stronger,” Hawks observes, a note of concern in his tone, but then adds, more teasingly, “Not allergic to me, are you?”

Dabi scoffs and tugs a couple of tissues from the box. “I wish,” he says, scrubbing at his nose. “Then I’d actually have an excuse to avoid your annoying ass.”

“Wow, okay, that was so uncalled for. Just say you hate me at that point.”

It’s Dabi’s turn to elbow Hawks back. He probably deserves it. 

 “Ow, bitch,” he says in mock offence. 

“You’re the bitch,” comes the reply, from behind a handful of tissues (which are then promptly screwed up and tossed, flying in a neat arc, straight into the trash on the other side of the room). 

“Whatever, bitch. Are you done sneezing yet? This couch isn’t as comfy as your thighs-”

“Ugh, shut up, you are so weird,” Dabi interjects in fond disgust. 

“Oh my god, what if you’re allergic to my apartment being clean? Then I never have to clean ever again, hah!”

Dabi gives him a look. “You say that as a joke, but honestly, you migh-might be right…hh.. hehH’KXNTtsh’uh!”

Dabi’s expression falls midway through his sentence, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he gives into another sneeze, hastily half-stifled against the back of his hand.

“Seriously,” Hawks deadpans, eyebrows raised. That’s new, he thinks.

“Well, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a pet cat - which I doubt - then yeah, seriously,” says the villain flatly, though with a note of congestion starting to creep into his voice. “Last I checked, your place didn’t reek of fuckin’ –all of spring and then some.” 

Hawks suddenly remembers the air freshener he’d used–the only one he had, some floral one found right at the back of a cupboard, unused for entirely too long. He hadn’t had a clue what clean apartments were supposed to smell of, so he’d sort of just… went ham with it. Definitely a mistake.

“Don’t slander my choice in scents,” he teases, “Are you sure it’s… that?”

“Nothing else changed ‘round here, has it?” Dabi pauses to give his nose a brief rub. “I’m here practically every week and I’ve been fine, so, you tell me.”

Hawks will never not poke the bear when he’s got the opportunity, so he says, “So this does mean I never have to clean the place ever again, right?”

Dabi’s mouth falls open as he feigns offence. He says, dramatically, “Wow. That’s all you have to say? When I could literally die right now in front of you? I’m.. hah- I’m-”

Hawks snickers. “Bless you,” he sing-songs prematurely, utterly pleased with himself. It’s almost cute, the attempted glare Dabi gives him through his glazed over expression. Nobody can look menacing in the slightest when they’re trying not to sneeze (and that’s a fact!).

“Sh-shut uhhhp..” replies Dabi, his voice quavering. He lifts a hand slowly, bringing it to hover weakly before his face. His breathing is unsteady and his eyes half-lidded, and the crease between his dark brows deepens.

“Okay, point proven, idiot,” Hawks says with a laugh, “Just sneeze, this is torture even for me.”

The hazy glare returns, and Hawks clocks it. 

“Oh!” he laughs, giving Dabi a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh my god, I jinxed it. You deserve that ‘cause you’re mean to me.”

“I hahh-hate you-” Dabi responds breathily. He rubs at the side of his nose with two knuckles, pressing decently harder than is probably necessary. The bridge crinkles in irritation when the rubbing clearly has no effect. “Jesus, it won’t go away.”

“Mm, what a shame.”

There goes a third bleary glare from the villain. “I’d like to remind you wh-whose fault thhihhs.. was in the first place,” he says. Any malice intended to be behind his utterance is immediately negated by his breath catching and wavering through the words. Though, at a point, Hawks begins to feel a little… voyeuristic just watching Dabi struggle. Sure, he’s his boyfriend and all, and yeah, he’s definitely seen worse, but it’s easy to tell Dabi’s getting a little self-conscious about this… spectacle. He’s never been a fan of having things out of his control, especially not displays of vulnerability like this, and Hawks knows this, so why prolong it?

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it,” he says, taking matters into his own hands. 

“Fuck off- what–” Dabi gets out, as Hawks takes his face between his hands and begins to press kisses softly down the bridge of his nose. Hawks doesn’t let him twist away from it, trying not to laugh to himself about how dumb this probably looks. At least one of them is having fun. He considers pulling away with a “Gonna sneeze yet?”, but refrains - he’d probably end up on fire. He does, however, pause for a moment when he reaches Dabi’s trio of silver nose studs, hovering. There’ve been feathery, wavering breaths coming from his boyfriend consistently but, nothing has come to fruition, so Hawks decides–those piercings have always been sensitive, a fact he’d discovered about Dabi rather early on (and maybe, possibly sometimes used to be a menace). He plants a final, delicate kiss right upon where the three studs lie, and finally lets Dabi pull away.

“Oh, oh, fuck– s-screw you–hh’ehH’IIDTSSHh’uh! ‘kXXTS’SHhue! …Christ, you’re such an ass.” The pair of sneezes that result are harsh to say the very least. And even after all that, he still tries stifling the second– unsurprising, but at that point is it even worth it?

 “Sorry! I had to!” Hawks says, really trying to look like he isn’t laughing. It doesn’t work.

“You absolutely did not have to,” corrects Dabi. 

“Okaaay, okay, sorry. It was funny though.”

“Yeah, for you, maybe,” Dabi mutters, shaking his head, “Oh, fuck’s sake, hold on–”

“I’ll wait till you’re done to say bless you, this time,” says Hawks with a fond snicker. 

“Good plah-an–! hhuh’hHDSHH’SHuh! …Ugh, fuck.”

“Bless,” Hawks replies. He averts his eyes, a little sheepishly. Dabi pulls a face.

He asks, “What the fuck’s with the guilty face?” to which Hawks throws his head back with a groan and slides his hands across his face.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he says, “You know, clean the place up a bit. Since it’s always kind of a massive mess.”

“Jesus, Kei, I don’t care about that,” says Dabi, breathing a laugh. “It’s you I’m here for, not your fuckin’ apartment. I can kiss you whether or not there’s crap on every surface.”

Hawks isn’t used to Dabi outright saying nice things, so his cheeks flush slightly hearing this. He’s unsure what to say. Thankfully, Dabi speaks again.

“Okay. Where didn’t you spray that shit?”

Hawks scoffs. “I sort of went crazy with it, uh… my bedroom? If that works?”

“Very forward,” Dabi replies, raising his eyebrows. “Almost like you wanted me in there.”

Hawks jabs him in the ribs but still smirks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

[trappedinafantasy37]

It is now time to go down into the sewers and to face Orin. With this run being just Shadowheart and Minthara and no Durge, this definitely feels a lot more personal for Minthara.

The moment we passed the threshold into the Undercity, Minthara drops the alurlssrin confession. Of course, Shadowheart has no idea what that means. But Minthara is walking down into that temple terrified that she will not make it out alive and she wants to tell Shadowheart she loves her in the best way that she can

Did not exactly feel like doing this bullshit of a fight, so I engaged in a little pro-gamer move I like to call, "If they can't see me, they can't fight me." You'd be surprised how many problems you can get out of if you just avoid them entirely!

Behold, the Temple of Bhaal in all its dreadful glory!

Orin is quite excited to see Minthara again! Oh, how she missed her Minthara.

Turns out, Orin is not too happy that Minthara has a new girlfriend now and wants to get rid of the competition. What is it about evil lesbians that compels them to resort to violence to solve their problems?

I have learned quite a lot of things about Orin these past few days. Not only is Orin capable of turning invisible in the middle of a fight, but she can also resurrect the dead! Who knew? I sure as fuck didn't! What else is she hiding?

YES! SHE DID IT! BABYGURL KILLED ORIN ALL BY HERSELF!

Death is too good for Orin, she deserved worse. Minthara deserved the honor of doing worse.

Even though she personally dispatched of Orin, Minthara has a hard time believing that Orin is dead and that her nightmare is over. She is still quite terrified. Once, she had believed that killing Orin would make her feel better. But vengeance is not all its cracked up to be it would seem.

But, it's okay. Shadowheart is here to make it all better. Orin is dead and can never touch her again.

I almost exclusively play Durge and have always found the fight to be easier in a one-on-one duel. Sadly, Minthara is not granted a duel or the ability to confront Orin directly. Stocking up on some spell scrolls and with some carefully targeted attacks, I was able to make it so that Minthara was the one who fought Orin. And she won.

Like I said, Minthara being my only companion on this run definitely made the confrontation with Orin feel a lot more personal for her. She is sidelined and regarded as if her trauma is just an after thought and doesn't get the opportunity to confront her abuser. Perhaps Minthara's character development gets stunted because she isn't given the proper chance to work through her trauma like all the rest. It will forever infuriate me. But, that's what fanfiction is for and I will always give Minthara what she actually deserves in my little stories.

Next up, the Elder Brain and the end of the game.

< The Foundry and Gortash | Doomsday >

[good-beanswrites]

john x fuuta ?👉👈 or 090309

I love the dynamic between them all, thank you for the request! I went with an earlier meeting for them (well, one of the first times Fuuta's aware of speaking with John, at least). As much as I joke about Fuuta being starstruck by his strength in the attack, I tried to take a more serious route for the "something to rely on" vibe.

John’s eyes flicked over Fuuta, sprawled out on his bedding and looking up expectantly.

“Man, you look like shit.”

Fuuta scowled deeper. “I asked for the reason you’re here in the middle of the fucking night, not your opinion.”

“That is the reason I came.”

Somehow, amid all the other things he had to worry about given the horror of the past few days and exile that followed, Mikoto had still found the time to lose sleep over Fuuta’s condition. John had always liked the guy, but he wasn’t in the business of watching over people he didn’t truly care about. He didn’t know what Mikoto saw in him to cause such an overreaction.

Though, with the futon dragged to the bars of the cell, and bathing him in the dim light of the guard’s tower, it was becoming clear that Mikoto’s concern was indeed warranted. Fuuta appeared deathly. The fresh injuries had been bandaged, but there were stains where blood was beginning to seep through. His eye – the one that had survived the ordeal – was bloodshot and rimmed with dark bags. His hair was as tangled as the rumpled hoodie it poked out of.

Fuuta was still staring in anticipation. It took John a moment to understand why. 

“You recognize me.”

“No shit. Mikoto came in here like a fumbling idiot earlier today. He wanted to make sure I was okay or whatever. Like I’d be okay after what happened!” He paused, a clanging from someone else’s cell briefly distracting him. “But you… the way you carry yourself… it’s different.”

“Not that different. I’m here for the same reason.”

The plan was simple. Once Fuuta slept, Mikoto would relax, and everyone would be happy. If it turned out to be his injuries keeping him awake, John didn’t mind crushing Fuuta’s pride and explaining his weakness to the doctor to get more painkillers. If it was noisy neighbors, he’d teach one of those girls a lesson the following day. If the problem was just plain insomnia, well, John’s swinging arm was still completely functional...

“I just want to make sure you’re sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me you’re as disgustingly sentimental as him.”

John’s expression twitched. He didn’t appreciate the condescension. That was Mikoto’s most admirable trait, after all – offering help to others even when he was falling apart himself. He was so selfless, so self-sacrificial. It was no wonder John felt compelled to do the same for him. But Fuuta…

“Ugh, he’s always trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone around here, it makes me sick. Nice words don’t do shit. Look where his friendship with Kotoko got him, eh? That’s what these fools still don’t understand – you need to face these things head-on.”

“Oi, don’t be hard on me just for caring.” He didn’t say it as any sort of gentle encouragement; it was a command, and Fuuta understood. He snapped his attention away from where he’d been peering around the bars. “The world needs more people with that kindness. That optimistic view of life, of others, no matter what – it’s why I’ll do everything I can to save me.”

Silence stretched after the intense comment. Fuuta was looking away again, and John couldn’t read him. When he did speak, his voice came out more defeated than expected.

“Tch. Well. Not all of us have that luxury.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

His eyebrows raised.

Cheeks reddening, Fuuta hurried to add, “I mean someone to have your back like that. I wish I could be half as relaxed as that, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. I need to be strong myself, I don’t have anyone else to take care of my problems for me.”

It hit him suddenly, that everything came down to that. Relief washed over him, now that a clear, easy, (and nonviolent) solution had presented itself.

“What if you did? I could take over your little sentry duty for the night.”

“W-what do you –?”

He gestured to where Fuuta was laying. “No need to play dumb. You’ve been keeping an eye on everything, even the other side of the guard’s tower. The sounds from around cell eight have caught your attention. You’re positioned so you can see cell six, but haven’t moved all the way over, because cell ten has easiest access from the right.”

“The others would say it’s pointless, or that they’re handling it. I’m not buying it, though. I don’t care if they say it’s crazy of me to do.”

“I think…” John’s posture softened. “I think it’s very selfless of you.”

He was constantly amazed at Fuuta’s tendency to react to everything as if it were some world-shattering statement just told to him.

“So?” He prodded before Fuuta’s expression could grow any more wide-eyed. “How about it?”

 “I mean… they told me about the attacks… what you did…”

John set his jaw. No matter how many times it had happened in the past few days, it still stung to see how quickly people turned against him because of the fight. He thought they all had come to terms with each other’s capabilities for violence, but as usual, the moment he showed his true face, the world turned against him.

Of course Fuuta could never relax knowing such a violent and unpredictable person was sitting right beside him through the night. It was a miracle he hadn’t panicked immediately at the sight of yet another cold, towering figure appearing at his door in the middle of the night.

John stretched his right arm across his chest. It looked like his original solution still stood. Fuuta said problems should be faced head-on. Surely he’d understand this was for his own good.

“…Yeah, okay.” Fuuta gave a decisive nod. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “I trust you.”

“I –” John blinked. “What?”

“You understand me. You understand what it takes to be in a place like this.” His gaze flit away momentarily. “You’re incredibly strong. You’re prepared, and have good instincts, and your confidence is –" Noticing how intently John was listening, he interrupted himself to bark, “but don’t think I couldn’t handle this on my own! It’s only because you offered, and it’s a smart move. I’ll just sleep for a bit, we can take shifts. Wake me in three hours, okay?”

“Fine by me.” A little lying was definitely better than what else he’d had in mind.

Fuuta moved his futon over a few feet so John could settle into his carefully chosen spot on the ground. Everything was all set to begin keeping watch, until a new sound rose up to drown out the other noises in the panopticon – soft snoring from beside him.

He glanced over in disbelief at the instantaneous security Fuuta had sunk into. All the tension had melted away from his face and shoulders. He lay completely at peace.

John had achieved his goal. He should be celebrating. Instead, he couldn’t help heaving a heavy sigh.

How did he end up with two self-destructive idiots to watch over?

[fluffypotatey]

*puts on my Professor glasses* Macky really knows EXACTLY how to talk to Wukong, let's dissect it! M: Looks like things are going smoothly. W: I say, you've been here the whole time, haven't you? M: FFM is your home, but it's also mine. W: Did you find anything? M: Still nothing, however. Now the Jade Emperor is no longer present. The Celestial Realm already gives me an unsettling feeling. M: Wukong...that kid. W: I understand. M: You have to go and talk to him. W: I know! But...he still isn't ready. M: I see. You're the one who isn't ready, yet. How did you even become a teacher! M: He has to be. We all have to be realistic. W: He's just a kid. We can't let him... M: Who says he's just a kid! Why is it him? When you chose him, did you know? W: I didn't know, I really didn't know! I just followed...a feeling. M: Are you not the least bit worried?! This child has all of your special powers, and he always runs into trouble. Have you never questioned this before? Not a single person knows where he came from. Is it not strange?! M: We still have no clue as to whoever let out Azure Lion. All your old foes returned in one swoop. Are you not even a little- W: Then what about you? You also suddenly came back. M: Argh- M: I say, someone must be manipulating us behind our backs. Especially Xiaotian. But they still haven't succeeded. W: Then tell me. What about you? M: Tell me do you want my help or not?! / W: Not long ago you were still against me! / M: I see, you're just a- / W: ...after I assume you'll teach me how to train my own disciples? ~ Xiaotian Interupts ~ M: Look. That kid has made you his idol. You're his one true hero, but you... W: But I what? M: He has to understand, he doesn't need to carry these burdens. You have to do better. You can really tell whose the chatty one in this relationship XD Wukong might be a lil annoyed, but he's tolerant. And Macky is a little playful turd as always. Where Wukong gets gloomy and concerned, Mac swaps between teasing and serious in a blink. Then things get a lot more strained and tense, but unlike their previous fights, it never escalates into violence. Never a growl, never a raised fist. They're right at the edge, and they drop it. I'm very much interested in the psychology of arguments and when it comes to people latching onto (1) thing a person says and relating it slightly off topic to avoid talking about that other thing, like Wukong is doing here. It's so cool seeing how physical they are in trying to visibly control their emotions around each other, and how they keep trying to hold themselves back from tearing in further, always pausing and halting, and switching to another thing. They're TRYING. Ugh. I think Mac was trying to give a comforting smile at the end, but it's kinda warped by the whole ~ everything else. ~ Anyhow, I like how this starts with Wukong establishing, or rather cementing to Macaque that he believes MK is a kid. And while Macaque argues against that, he did also say before that Wukong should talk to him. And they have their squabble, with Mac pushing Wukong's buttons to get him to say something, BUT the fact this gets resolved with he needs to understand he doesn't need to carry these burdens. YOU HAVE TO DO BETTER. Like of all things Mac could have chosen. He's playing right into what Wukong himself believes, that will overwrite the "MK isn't ready" thing. Because let's face it. Mac is right when he says Wukong also isn't ready for that talk yet. He's so down throughout all this, Wukong probably feels himself that he needs to be better. AND by appealing to the fact MK is a kid, without explicitly stating that, just a statement that cannot be denied, BUT is a subject that undoubtedly, even Wukong cannot avoid. Because he wants better for MK. For him to not walk down the same path as him. Macaque has basically nudged Wukong into having that talk he wanted with MK by reframing it differently from what Wukong wasn't ready for. Thoughts? Critique?

*squishes you* anon…anon, you’re telling me..that this was the actual dialogue between SWK and Macky in 5x01. that what i just read is the translated version of the Mandarin dub. correct?

ok ok cool. i’m cool. gucci. feeling fantastic lemme just

WHAT THE FUCK LMK

ok so i ranted in the tags but realized i forgot to say more things (also i was worried i’d exceed the tag limit bc that is a real thing what do you know!)

so, anon, you said Macky knows how to talk to Wukong and yeah agreed but for me it’s for of the sense of “Macky knows how to get his words under Wukong’s skin”

he knows how to let his words sink in and fester in Wukong’s mind, making him reconsider things or another to help speed up certain decisions or choices Wukong is hesitating on. and ain’t it fascinating how despite how long it’s been since either character have talked or interacted with each other, they still know the ins and outs of their behavior and thoughts.

Macky knows Wukong needs to talk to MK but is holding back. Macky after one answer from Wukong realizes that it’s Wukong who isn’t ready for that conversation and switches tactics to try and breach that mental block

Wukong, in a need to avoid the conversation, brings up the questions surrounding Macky’s reason for even being alive again because that is information neither have talked about and oh hey! Macky is avoiding that conversation too! and it’s an important one to have so he pushes for it, but Macky knows it’s being pushed to avoid their original discussion and is annoyed bc “classic Wukong, never wanting to delve too deep into topics where he’ll need to be vulnerable for” (especially when said vulnerability is with his newly re-allied ex friend Macaroni himself)

god i love them

[gt-daboss]

GT Writing/Reading Question

Ive been writing GT stories for some time now, and reading them for much much longer, so I'm curious what the consensus of this topic is (my opinion and reasons in the tags if you're curious)

[icewindandboringhorror]

finally finished all of one character's entire quests/optional dialogue/questions/etc.... 100,000 words... .... aughhh

[emotsper]

just had a conversation with someone who

1. is not a mmj oshi

2. reads mmj story thru twitter

about how a plotline where mmj gets picked up by a label cant actually work (they suggest the plotline. i denied it)

this is a sign to read the story not from twitter 😭

[heartbeatbookclub]

FINALLY

[gifti3]

Okay i wrote this in record time for me. i just got the urge and boom here it is. I wanted to get this out fast so I didn't forget about it.

I called it a CEO AU but honestly its just an AU where MC works as Lucifer's assistant and is ready to wrap up this part of their life and move on to different work.

All the brothers are mentioned in this. And this can be whatever you want honestly. Platonic not so platonic. Maybe MC is dating one of them, maybe not. I kept it pretty vague!

MC is gender neutral.

_________________________

_________________________

"What is this?"

You push the envelope forward. "My letter of resignation."

Maybe it was a bit much handing it to him in person like this, but emailing just felt too cold. And yea he was your boss, but you considered Lucy a friend too and wanted to leave on the best note possible.

"I know you're busy but I wanted to let you know asap so we can plan accordingly."

Surprising to you, Lucifer seems slightly caught off guard. "Did you find new work?"

You nod with a smile. "Yep! It’s pay and benefits aren't as good but it's practically my dream job."

Lucifer observes you. It was obvious that working as his assistant was a lot of stress on you. Asmodeus mentioned your frustrations to him several times. But you always pulled through in the end. 

Did he overestimate you? No, overwork you?

"When do you leave?"

"2 weeks!"

-------

"They're literally going to the other side of the world you guys!"

“They’re what!?” Mammon responds, bewildered.

"They're moving to the other side of the world! A completely different country--this sucks!" Asmodeus lays his head down in his arms.

Unease fills the meeting room. This was new information to the rest of the brothers, including Lucifer. MC had never mentioned anything about moving and now an unwanted change had become much more unpleasant.  

-------

"Hey MC! Why didn't ya mention ya were moving to the other side of the world?" Mammon approaches from the meeting room, wasting no time.

"Ohhh... right, I forgot to mention that part to everyone. But it wasn't really that important honestly."

“What do ya mean it’s not important. It’s kind of a big deal!”

"....Okay yeah you're right, but it honestly slipped my mind. By the way, not on the other side of the world. Asmo likes to exaggerate, I swear. Either that or his geography could use some polishing."

You continue dropping random items from inside your desk into a box. You still had a week and half left but you wanted to take all your personal non-work stuff home to avoid forgetting anything. You were honestly surprised by how much unnecessary crap had found its way into the desk. It was a stark difference compared to your first couple of months working here.

When you first started, it sucked honestly. If it wasn't for the amazing pay you would have quit fairly quick. 

The first several months were rough, but with time you started getting used to working for the overbearing perfectionist that was Lucifer. Things started to feel routine, you could access possible issues before they happened. And Lucifer’s brothers coming in and out of this building stopped being an annoyance and began to be something to look forward to. You made friends with each and every one of them. Then even Lucifer eventually came around. And before you knew it had been 4 years.

You always thought about moving on to new work but would forget about it and go back to the usual routine. But recently, you were starting to feel content--no resigned. Like "I guess I could stay here forever…" resigned. And it scared you! So you immediately started job searching more seriously and your months of work paid off.

But I'm still gonna miss this place.

Next, Asmo is out of the room. He walks straight for you and wraps you in a tight hug. "MC don't leave us please!"

"I must--AH you're squeezing me too hard!"

He loosens his hold. "Sorry."

You pat his arm.

“Aren't ya gonna miss me--us? Whatever new people ya meet couldn't measure up to the Great Mammom!”

"That’s definitely true, but I need to spread my wings and fly you guys. Hmm…that sounded better in my head."

You notice Leviathan standing off to the side listening so you give him a smile. 

"Levi, why are you standing over there?"

He jumps but makes his way over from your prompting.

"S-So you really found your dream job. It sucks you're leaving but maybe it's a good thing too…"

You nod. "It's new and a little scary, but just consider it me starting a new arc in life."

"And honestly if you guys really want to talk to me, then keep in touch. You literally all have my number."

Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to help much for cheering up Levi or the other two.

Fortunately though, Satan appears before the silence becomes unbearable.

"So you're finally escaping Lucifer MC?”

"Ha! I guess you could put it that way..."

Asmo crosses his arms, his frown deepening. "Please don't let him overhear that."

Satan shows what he's hiding behind his back. "I'll miss your company but I'd like to send you off on the right foot so I brought you a couple of items."

He hands you the gift bag.

"If this isn't a book, I'll be shocked," you say.

You peep inside and realize there's multiple things.

A hardback book from a series you and Satan are currently reading (of course), a neck pillow, and a kitty eye mask.

"Oh wait there's something else."

You dig in and pull out a bracelet. But not just any bracelet. A very limited edition one. It was official merch for one of your favorite series, but you couldn't afford it at the time when it was released.

"What the heck, how'd you find this? This came out years ago!"

"Lots of online searching, and thanks to Levi and Asmo we found a somewhat reasonable price to all pitch in for."

You put the bracelet on. 

“And in such a short time too…Im.never taking this off!” 

You grin. “Well…now I gotta hug you all!”

Before he responds you're crushing Satan, managing to fluster him. You then pull (a blushing) Levi and then Asmo in for a hug, the latter eagerly returning it. 

“No way ya guys are making me look bad,” Mammon says.

"Get in on the collab next time!" Asmo quips.

“Don't worry Mammon, I'll give you a hug later.”

“What? I didn't say anything about a hug…”

“So you don't want one. Got it.”

“Hold on, wait a second…”

You smirk and shake your head. “Okay help me move my stuff you guys so we have a reason to keep talking.”

-------

"Is Belphie still ignoring me?"

Beel nods. "Sorry MC. I think he just needs more time to process."

The other day after leaving the meeting room the youngest made a beeline for the elevator. He didn't even look your way.

"Ah he wounds me..."

"I'll talk to him. Maybe eating out together would help clear the air?"

“Oo, you, me and Belphie. Let's do it!”

Beel smiles that way you love and you give him a sudden hug. It couldn’t be helped, you had a soft spot for the two youngest brothers.”

“Beel, I’m gonna miss you so much!”

He returns the hug. "Me too. I wish you didn’t have to leave, but what makes you happy is most important."

You pull back to look at his face. “I swear you're way more mature than some of your older brothers.”

-------

As your last day gets closer and closer, the brothers (6 out of 7 at least) accept your impending departure. And along with that came endless gifts. It was like Satan triggered a competition to see who could do better. And it looked like you'd have to spend extra money on moving all this extra stuff that had been dumped on you.

Especially after that shopping spree Asmo took you on.

Start your new life with a new wardrobe MC!

Even Belphie had gotten over his initial shock after your dinner with him and Beel and gifted you several items. 

Please make sure to answer mine and Beel’s messages right away.

Don't worry I won't miss any of you or your brother's texts!

Who's talking about those others?

You chuckle at the memory. Belphie was too much sometimes.

You shake your head and sniffle. 

….Oh god. 

You wouldn't see them in person like this anymore! These moments with them. They would be far and few between once you started your new job.

And for some reason while you're surrounded by half packed boxes in your home, it’s finally hitting you.

Your phone pings and you wipe your eyes.

A text from Lucifer.

That was the last person you expected. He hasn't really been talking to you much outside of work since you gave him your resignation, and even then it was purely professional. It made you feel bad. Like your relationship had regressed.

So you quickly respond.

L: Did you already schedule transportation to the airport?

M: of course 👍 don’t wanna wait last minute

L: Make sure you double check the dates too.

M: lucy are you gonna miss me? :3c

If you didn’t bring it up, he might not say it out right.

L: You're so troublesome.

L: But yes, I will miss you.

L: And I honestly don't understand why you're leaving.

You stare at the messages. How were you supposed to respond to that?

M: i have to. it's what i want to do with my life…

L: Okay. Make sure you're on time tomorrow.

That's it? 

You let out an annoyed sigh.

-----

You're in Lucifer's office first thing in the morning. He looks up with you with a raised eyebrow when you barge in.

You drag a seat directly in front of his desk so he’s forced to look at you. "We are handling this right now. I want to leave here with no loose ends"

"What is there to handle exactly? Youre leaving this job in 3 days to start your new one."

"Lucifer, you're obviously upset at me and I want you to be happy for me....like everyone else."

"I'm not like everyone else."

"Obviously, everyone is different. You're all different. That's not what I meant..."

You take a deep breath, lean forward and rest your arms on his desk. "Be vulnerable with me this one time. I know you're going to miss me but I feel like that's not enough for you to be so cold towards me like this..." 

He’s quiet.

"Please Lucy?"

"...I don't want you to leave. The idea that I won't get to see you easily bothers me."

He looks away

"And I feel like I'm the reason you're leaving."

Oh.

“I'm so sorry, I know sometimes I joke around with your brothers but Lucifer it's not actually you. Work like this has always been stressful for me. It's always been. And I just happened to find where my limit was in this particular job.”

“I love you and all your brothers but my final goal was to always aim for work that would be easier on me mentally in a place where it was enough to sustain me. I just got too used to being here.”

"You handle every situation so calmly though. You're always on top of everything

"Heh my acting skills are just that good! But you're starting to understand I hope?"  

He crosses his arms. “I can’t be happy about you leaving MC.”

Your brows furrow.

“But I suppose I can support you going for what you really want.”

“You know what…I’ll take it!” You rest your head on your arms.

He smirks. “Now get out, I'm busy. We can talk more afterwards.”