#when it was me it took me a Lot of time and the influence of many different factors

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

[madschiavelique]

Hi! So, modding has ruined me and as such I’d like to request the Origin Companions with a Lich Tav / S/O? Like, they did the whole process a while ago and only now with the Tadpole Sitch have they returned from death and have no idea what they’re doing and are far weaker than they expected. Maybe they show the companion a sign of “I love and trust you” by allowing them to (gently) hold their phylactery? Idk, fill how you see fit if you want :]

hi anon!! sorry it took so long but i wanted to make a bit of research for it to be accurate. i hope you'll like it!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ characters : shadowheart, astarion, gale, lae'zel, wyll, karlach

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst, but some comfort

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 1.4k (250~ per characters)

( not proofread, english is not my first language ☆)

─ ‧ shadowheart :

at a first glance, you amazed her as much as terrified her. but it was mostly a terrified respect. because being a lich, aka an undead sorcerer who seeks to transcend death itself is in clear opposition to the cycle of life and death, which is a central theme of most faiths including Shar’s.

she swore you must have followed Shar herself though as, per her words, “the darkness that precedes you would make a fierce soldier in her eyes.”

chances are that Shadowheart will have to put some parts of her faith in question for you, but on the other hand she could simply see your powers as a sort of extension of Shar’s influence.

as time goes by however, she realises a lot of prejudices held against lichs such as being cold and goal driven can be wrong, especially when it comes about you.

she’d be very much interested in hearing you talk about the process of becoming a lich. she admires your patience and devotion so much, a person as old and wise as you has seen more than she ever will and she craves to know more about your life, before becoming a lich and during it.

if you ever allowed her to hold your phylactery, she would never doubt your sincerity ever again. she knows how much this act means for her, for you, for your relationship, and she would not forget it nor lower it for anything in Faerun.

─ ‧ astarion :

when astarion learns about you being a lich at the very beginning of your adventure, it is certain that you and him would bicker about your age.

“how old are you? i didn’t know mummies could have such deplorable fashion styles, but how could it be otherwise considering you’re older than most of Gale’s books“ he said, to which you’d answer “it pains me that i have lived long enough to see idiots like you being born.”

it’s really just a game of bickering at the beginning, especially when you underlined that most liches are more powerful than vampires.

this however brought a spark to him, because if you were indeed more powerful than most vampires, then you would be of great utility in helping him go against his master.

over time of you gaining back your powers and abilities, he found something absolutely breathtaking in your darkness, your devotion, your ambition to outlive anything in your path.

he would see an opportunity to live in eternity by your sides. all other mortals perish eventually, and the knowledge of having you by his sides for all eternity makes him impossibly happy.

you offering him to hold your phylactery would mean the world to him, because he knew that if he had such a thing, he would have gave it to you. it’s an incomparable proof of your trust for him, no one had ever allowed him such an honour and you can be sure he will value it greatly.

─ ‧ gale :

this man is a scholar, and it would be lying to say that apart from being frightened and pretty much offended that you are here, he is extremely curious. 

he obviously has a deep fascination of magic, particularly the forbidden type, and you are a literal gift from the skies to be in his path.

ethical boundaries aside, i don’t think he will be able to shut up. 

you will be bombarded by all types of questions about the whole entire process of becoming a lich, from your years to learning about the Arcane arts to the gathering the rare and powerful components needed for the creation of your phylactery. 

He will not let you rest, he needs answers he’s been pondering on for so long and you’re here with all the answers.

This however raises for him the question of morality and mortality, unless he takes the path of moving from Evocation to Necromancy, in which case one could say he found the perfect pair.

Having gale as your s/o while being a lich is something you didn’t expect, in the sense that being with gale made you feel understood and seen.

If you allow gale to touch your phylactery, he would jump to the ceiling. He would hold it gently and ask about each and every part of it, asking how you got the components, how you assembled it all and how it felt once you had completed the entire process. But most of all, he is extremely aware of what it means and how much of a token of trust and respect it is for you to allow him to handle such a precious object.

─ ‧ lae'zel :

Lae’zel’s first approach would most definitely be one of suspicion. Githyankis and their traditions consider others as weak or unnatural, especially those who use necromancy. Chances are her first thoughts about you gravitate around repulsion, since you alone represent a source of power that is so dishonorable.

She would take quite the time to let herself trust you. There is one thing she cannot deny about you that changes during your adventure : you’re powerful, very powerful. When you start gaining back some of your powers and offer proper almost overwhelming force of will, you’ve owned lae’zel’s respect (no matter of grudgingly she acknowledges you as a worthy potential partner). 

Plus, your immortality is an asset in battle that cannot be circumvented.

In the end, your strong senses of battle and unrelenting determination won her.

When you allowed her to handle your phylactery, she was confused as to what such an artefact was. But when you explained to her that your very remains of life and mortality were in that very object, her heart leaped in her chest. For you to offer your life and allow her to have it in her own hands proved to her that you were more trustworthy than any other allies and lovers.

─ ‧ wyll :

His original reaction to your situation would be disbelief. He’d only ever heard of Lichs in storybooks or tails one would mysteriously count in a tavern. But a real one, in the flesh ? that was a first for him.

The concept of necromancy alone is not one Wyll appreciates much. It defies moralities and mortality to bring back from the dead. He’s worked hard to defeat enemies in the past that used such methods to build armies and soulless soldiers, and he is frightened of having feelings for you when these questions pull to the front of his mind.

But his sense of forgiveness would take over. Along the road to Baldur’s Gate, during your many adventures, he saw how your dedication to getting the team out of a deadly situation was pure and true.

It’s hard for him to deconstruct so many beliefs he’s had on necromancy and lichs in general, but he’s willing to do it for you. He does fear that it will be an imbalance relationship, but he wants to try.

But this thought vanishes from his mind when you allow him to touch your phylactery. He’s heard of such artefacts, of what they hold within, and it undoubtedly makes his heart stammer. He’ll never ever doubt of your love for him, that is for certain.

─ ‧ karlach :

Karlach’s first impression of her s/o being a Lich would not be positive, since being a lich represents the concept of immortality at the cost of the soul, and it could be something she finds repulsive.

Because you had the choice to abandon your mortality, your life, and you took it while she never had a choice on her own mortality.

But when you started travelling together, fighting together, living together, she didn’t find you so bad after all. It felt like you were just one of them, just a person with ambitions and goals.

She realised the lengths at which you were ready to go for your companions, and it owned her trust and admiration.

And when you kept finding infernal iron and stopped anything you were all doing just to go see Dammon as soon as you could to get her heart fixed, she knew she could trust you and appreciate you.

She has her own fears of being with you though, the fatality of her own heart failing her in opposition to your eternity frightened her beyond belief. What will happen if she dies and you go on without her ? She is very much tormented about this question.

But she loves you, and she knows you love her.

When you allow her to touch your phylactery, she would crumble in tears as if you’re offering her a wedding ring. If she could take out her mechanical heart from her chest and give it to you without dying the same way you give her the last piece of life you own in this world, she would.

[taisgf]

What about a relationship with the yellowjackets girls post-rescue. Or what about 25 years later, reuniting with them. Like in the show, they all find a way to come back together, but with the weight of their shared history in the wilderness, how would that be? Would old feelings rekindle? (By the way, I love your writing!)

hc. reunion with the adult timeline yj girls (shauna, tai, van, lottie, nat)

A/N: sorry this is a bit small nonnie!! and that i took so long… this is such a cool ask so I had to do it 😈 and again peep the van favouritism. a bit nsfw tee hee, implied wlw (duh), drugs n shit, van’s cancer😔 not proofread because nnnmnhnhb….. uhhh mmm. nah.

NATALIE:

Natalie would be almost embarrassed to see you again after it all. Being such a pillar within the group in the wilderness, and having lost herself so much after would really hit her when she sees you again.

You’re engraved in Nat’s mind during those 20-something years, a spit image of your face lurking in her subconscious. Somehow, each time Natalie found herself blacking out, or hitting the peak of her high, you’d come to mind. Your face, looking at her- and suddenly she’s 17 again, sat next to you by a fire.

Natalie would be torn between never wanting to see you again, and craving your company so deeply. So when you’re thrust into her life again, likely by Misty’s influence- she doesn’t quite know how to react.

You’d catch her staring- all interactions short, yet packed. As things with Lottie pick up, Nat would be quick to defend you, never leaving a few metres distance just like she used to.

After that, she wouldn’t be as subtle about her feelings toward you. She’d be hesitant to go into anything serious let alone long term, but having you back with her would do a lot for Nat. She’d have someone she can really trust- and who would that be if not you?

Any intimacy with adult timeline Nat would be wild, impromptu and more than likely when you’re both under the influence. Rough, and fast and heated- but lying together after? Maybe, if you’re lucky, Nat would let you look into her soul a little. Maybe she’d let you in. Keep at it and who knows where you two would end up.

TLDR; Nat’s very confused. But aroused?

VAN:

Reuniting with Van would definitely go the smoothest out of all the girls (women)? She’d let you stay in her shop, keeping you for days- enticing you with nostalgic movies and shows you’d watch together as teenagers. Cuddled up at night referencing some dumbass sitcom- watching all the films that came out while you were stranded that you never got to experience together as teenagers. Dumb reality TV, some Jim Carrey ‘AS SEEN ON VHS’ movie for the 80th time- anything to be close to you.

Van wouldn’t be the one to bring up getting back together by any means, but she wouldn’t shut it down either. It would be great for a while- until you find her discreetly sneaking around her medicine cabinet, or her constant complains of pain. Van would gradually grow distant, and knowing her- you’d pick up on it pretty fast.

She’d be reluctant to let you know about her cancer- but it would be a huge weight off her shoulders once she did. She’d be able to enjoy your time together way more, and your company would make her feel a lot better.

Chances are you’d be with Van a good while before all of the things with Lottie and the others- meaning you’d meet back with the group as a united front, secure and positive through all the bullshit. You’d be a huge anchor for Van through it all- and no doubt she would be for you too.

(Van’s cancer was totally cured btw. Showtime told me themself sorry) (I’ll be so mad if she dies) (my baby….)

Van’s still silly as shit, too. Everything that happened in the wilderness would no doubt just become fodder for her twisted sense of humour, but deep down she’s deeply hurt. Having you back and repairing those old relationships would really help her, more than you could understand.

Adult van’s strap is like. That retro pinky-reddy-orangey by the way. Canon. I can see the future (and because she used it on me yesterday)

TAI:

I feel like reuniting with Tai before everything would be rather inevitable. She’s a public figure- and after months and months of seeing her on TV, you’d reunite- maybe teaching Sammy at school, only to see her walk in for a parent-teacher conference. Maybe you’d see her posters around, enticing you to vote for her.

(I want to write a reunion, Sammy’s-teacher fic now💔)

Tai has legitimately nobody to confide in about what happened- and with all the drama surrounding her campaign for senator, you can imagine how relieved she was when you find your way back into her life.

I imagine you’d reunite at the peak of her stress; maybe after the whole ‘SPILL’ drama. Tai’s sleepwalking again, she knows it- and she remembers how it was you who knew how to calm her. So, when you drunkenly stumble your way into her bed after meeting in a bar she’s not surprised that she can finally sleep the whole night. Only with you does Tai ever feel well rested. Only in your arms can she relax.

Which, given Tai’s whole marital downfall, would lead to a passionate and almost desperate love affair. Change my mind- wait, you can’t. It would be almost scandalous, the fact that the esteemed senator candidate and yourself, both having endured the wilderness together, are together. If the press found out, they’d have a fit. Tai never fails to remind you this, so your relationship would be kept under tight, tight wraps.

Any intimacy with adult Tai would go one of two ways. Option 1, as an act of comfort. To remedy sadness, take that stress of eachother’s shoulders. Slow, and tender- a mature kind of love, like Tai’s always been. You’d lie for hours after, talking. Maybe you’d unload about all the nightmares and flashbacks to the wilderness, or maybe Tai would ramble about Sammy and [WIFE NAME].

Or, option 2. Rough, angry sessions that last hours at a time. Unloading all of the bottled up negative emotions which between the two of you is enough to last a lifetime. Tai would pull your hair, rut into you without a care of how you might bruise- or maybe she’d let you dig your nails into her thighs, bite at her skin and just pray that it wouldn’t show the next day in time for her meeting.

LOTTIE:

I feel like reuniting with Lottie at her retreat alongside the other girls is the obvious answer, but I’m inclined to say that you’d actually turn up a good while earlier.

Lottie’s presence in your life would never cease- not since you’d met her, no matter where she was or where you are. Lottie lingers- and she always will.

She’d think that some spiritual presence, be it fate or the wilderness drew you back to her. That of course you found your way back to her somehow. You were Lottie’s girl the second that plane went down, and there’s no doubt in her mind that you’ll always be.

That’s why she’s so happy to see you at the gates of her commune- eagerly offering you a room in her best suite, right beside her own. She’s cater to your every want, showing you around and explaining how everything’s connected to what you all experienced out there.

And no doubt, you’d fall for it. Maybe you’d want to. Either way, you do. With Lottie, old feelings don’t rekindle per se, they were always just there. Even when you didn’t talk, even when she was god knows where- Lottie was there, and so were you.

Having sex with adult Lottie would be less ritualistic and spiritual than it used to be when you were out in the wild. At first, it might even seem normal. But, the passionate sensuality, the way she worships you and insists that ’no, no, you just lay back, let me take care of you’ or the way her tongue spells a prayer against you while her head’s buried between your thighs brings you back.

SHAUNA:

While with the other girls it’d likely be themselves or maybe the hand of fate drawing you back together, with Shauna it would have to be you starting things.

You’d reach out a few times- maybe she’d humour you, and you’d grab a coffee while you’re in town. Shauna couldn’t deny that it did make her feel a certain way and sure after a few drinks and if you were lucky enough to catch her during the whole ‘Jeff allegedly cheating’ thing, maybe she’d concede and you’d hook up.

As hard as I try, though, I can’t imagine it going any further. Shauna cares about you; of course she does. But, she’s resilient and now she has a whole family of her own. We see Shauna do her best to distance herself from everything that happened, and having you like that would only bring her back.

So, she’d blow you off. Maybe you’d be a new victim of her drunk, sad booty-calls, but beyond that? I don’t think Shauna would be so quick to get back together. But the love? Of course it’s still there.

(Sorry to my shauna girlies😔 I cannot lie and say she would because I just don’t think so!!)

[actuallysaiyan]

|Come Down And Waste Away With Me| Chapter One: I Am Here.

warnings: angst, mentions of death, set during the final war arc, mentions of alcohol, very heavy and dark themes, mentions of wounds, driving under the influence, self-deprecation, hospital stay, Reader has a quirk and a hero name pairings: All Might/Toshinori Yagi x Fem!Disgraced Hero!Reader summary: the last time you saw Valorie was when the car had flipped and you were seeing her lose her life. while in the hospital during the end of the final war, you begin to lose hope that you're even cut out to be a good person. someone hears your cries for help, and he shows you a light.

dividers: @adornedwithlight

taglist: @cherryblossombankai

masterlist

In the year 20xx…

Here we are at the scene of the crime. Last night was the tragic car accident that took the life of Spectral Valor, also known as Valorie Teagan, and left about half a dozen others injured. What was speculated as foul play at first ended up being corrected as driving under the influence. Also in the vehicle with Spectral Valor was the electrokinetic hero known as Haywire. More details at six…

“You could have died!” A voice yells at you through your drunken stupor.

Here you rest in your hospital bed. Wires and tubes poking and prodding and coming from your mangled body. You fractured your tibia causing you the most pain, followed by the few cracked ribs. A concussion, a few chipped teeth, a fractured tibia, three cracked ribs…

But really none of them hurt more than losing your best friend. Valorie was your glue. She was the angel that helped you shine. Even while you were becoming a hero, she was always right there with you. It hurt you to think you’d never get to see that smile again. You’d never hear her laughter again. You tried to not cry, but it was so fucking hard.

“Did you hear me, Haywire?! You could have died! I can’t deal with this shit anymore.”

It’s the voice of your manager. Why would a hero need a manager? You don’t know, but you had a feeling it had to do with all the club life you were leading. The drinking, the drugs, the week long benders you’d go on…it’s not good for a hero of your stature. Yet you were so good at hiding it. 

“Ken,” you try to say despite your throat having a lump in it. “Ken, I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry, kid. I promised your parents I’d take care of you, but I can’t.”

Oh yeah…Kento had been a family friend. When you lost your parents, he promised to take good care of you. You lost your parents at a young age. They had died doing what they love, saving the world.

“I promise,” you swallow hard. “I promise, I’ll do better.”

Kento sits on the edge of the bed. He runs his fingers through his sandy blond hair. He then sheds a few of his own tears, wiping them away and facing you. He presses his hand carefully on the cast that is on your left leg.

“The agency is dropping you. Or at least, that’s the gist of what I understood.”

You looked away ashamed. “Is anyone still in that building? Isn’t there a war going on?”

Kento laughs sarcastically. He explains to you that even with the war happening, and with the crumbling of society, the agency you still worked for had decided to shut its doors for the time being. Instead of healing and getting to go back to it after, you were being pushed out.

“Sorry kid, but I can’t fix this one.”

That had been three weeks ago. You got your official letter about two days after that conversation. You didn’t get many visitors in the hospital. Especially not with all the heroes coming back from the war. All For One had been defeated. Even that young kid, Shigaraki, had been defeated. Somehow you were clinging to those details as a means to cope with Valorie’s death.

Then you got your hands on a smartphone. You were able to keep up with the battle a lot better this way. Things had seemed so dire for so long. The way things could have ended made you nervous. It wracked you with guilt. You weren’t out there helping. You were just a waste of space. All you were was good for nothing. You couldn’t even contribute to the fight to save humanity and heroes alike.

Rotting in a hospital room after everything that was going on, you begin to wonder if maybe you should have died in that stupid car crash as well. You had been the one to procure the alcohol that night. You were the one who stupidly coaxed Valorie into driving back home. Things had been so bleak for heroes. Nobody trusted you. This only made you feel worse, turning to drugs and alcohol even harder to cope with this shit.

You remember the way you felt when you finally opened your eyes. Just once…just once before passing out again. Seeing her lifeless body next to you. The car had flipped multiple times. Nothing hurt at the time because of the shock, but seeing her…oh Valorie had been so beautiful.

Her life was snuffed out before it even truly began. You had wanted so desperately to start your own agency with her. That had been the plan. You two would have gone on to do such amazing things. And here you had been, looking at the lifeless body of your truest friend.

In the history of assholes, you wondered if maybe you were going to take the top spot. Nothing could make you feel any better. You hated yourself for being so weak to addiction. So weak to addiction that you couldn’t even properly contribute to the world. People were out there risking their lives to keep everyone safe, and you were partying.

And now, you were in the hospital, taking up space.

And even worse, was that you were in the same hospital as Him.

All Might.

The man, the legend, the strongest…

Call him whatever you want, but he also ended up in the same hospital as you. While you were out partying in the wreckage of Japan and getting in the fatal car accident that killed your friend, he and all the other pro heroes had been fighting the good fight. The dread and the pain you felt deep inside of you kept you from wanting anyone but your manager, Kento, to come visit.

Still, you had been curious about the extent of All Might’s injuries. After the battle in Kamino Ward, you had found out about his secret along with everyone else in the world. You still tried to cling to having him as your idol.  You tried your best to see the good in him, just like everyone else had accepted. But soon when people stopped seeing the heroes as the good guys, they started to see that their Symbol Of Peace wasn’t going to be the one to save them. Everyone else basically dropped him like yesterday’s news, but you always looked up to the man.

That’s what kept you and Valorie close. A transfer student from America, Valorie had been very interested in meeting All Might. She was a big fan of his, memorizing all the battles he had in America. The shine in her eyes is what made you become even more fanatical of the man.

She was a shining force and you lost her. You lost the one person in this world that knew you more than anyone else. She was always the one to lift you up when you truly needed it. She was the one to show you the logical way of things.

But times were tough. People started to distrust the heroes. They didn’t want heroes to come help. Even prior to that, you and Valorie had enjoyed the fame and fortune that came with being pro heroes. You had indulged in all sorts of things from time to time, but you never thought you’d get to the point you were now.

You were clinging to anything in a way of coping with this. With the fighting going on outside, you hadn’t been sure if Valorie even got a proper funeral. It didn’t matter, you thought to yourself, because you weren’t going to be able to go. You were confined to this hospital bed for some time.

And with that came the change of rooms…

It all happened so fast. One day you were in a room by yourself, the next day you were being wheeled into another room. The curtains had been drawn around the other occupant in this room. As nosy as you were, you couldn’t quite just get out of bed and find out who it was. Still, you could tell that whoever it was, they were in worse shape than you were.

Lots of rooms were going to be pretty full now. The beds would be needed for those who actually put their lives on the line. Unlike you, the waste of space. You cried often, trying to hide it from your roommate. You tried to desperately keep your sobs low. Thankfully, whoever was in this room with you was often sleeping.

You longed to be able to walk again. The doctors said it would be a while before you were up and doing that. But you hadn’t lost the use of your leg. You’d be going through lots of extended physical therapy to go along with the rehabilitation and emotional therapy you’d be going through as well.

Crying had been the soothing balm at first, but the less Kento came to visit you, the lonelier you got. You heard all kinds of things from the hallways. The news that the doctors would give you had just made you feel even worse. And the one person who came to visit you that wasn’t your manager had been Valorie’s mother. She was very sympathetic with you, which truly surprised you.

Your heart felt so heavy with so much. You felt like you could burst from the amount of emotions that run through you every second. You were clinging to the sweater her mom brought you and you sniffed her scent every chance you could.

Nothing could bring her back and you knew this.

Nothing could bring back the dead.

The world could be at peace, and there was still so much hurt. So much pain would linger. The world could be rebuilt, but the pain would remain like a stain on everyone’s heart. You wondered how you and everyone else would get through this.

You wished you could take it all back…

The last moments with her keep replaying in your mind and you know you’ll never get to see that beautiful smile again. No, she won’t be there to comfort you ever again when you need her.

One night, things seemed very quiet. You were just trying to get some rest despite the fact that your body was aching. You had spent the good part of an hour just scrolling through your phone that somehow hadn’t been damaged in the car crash. The way things were going, it seemed like the world and Japan was trying to band together to get over this.

Still, you couldn’t help but go look at pictures of her. It was breaking your heart, but you needed to see her smile. The same smile that always pushed you to do your best. Even when you felt scared as a new and upcoming hero, she was there to guide you through it all even though she was just as scared as you.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you tried so hard to quiet your sobs. It had been a few days now that you were in the new room and you were sure that whoever your new roommate was would probably grow tired of your constant crying. Doesn’t matter what’s going on in the world, whoever was trying to heal next to your bed would find you annoying.

In reality, the person in the bed next to yours was sleeping most of the time. Tonight was the first time he heard your cries. It pained his heart more than he’d like to admit. He had been in so much pain, but so happy to know the outcome of the battle. He had worked so hard to make sure things would go the way he desperately hoped for.

And now with hearing you cry, his heart clenched in his chest. These were the tears of a lost someone. When he had been first admitted to the hospital, they had told him that he’d be in the same room as you. He barely knew you, but he had heard of the electrokinetic hero Haywire. He knew what had happened, and he did not think any less of you.

Finally, the curtain is pulled back from the bed and you gasp when you see the older man in his bed. You try to wipe away your tears, but it’s obvious you’ve been crying. He looks at you and gives you his best smile, even while in a sorry state himself.

“Don’t cry,” he says. “I am here.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2024– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

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[innocentcurse]

Evangeline’s heart swelled at Marisol’s words, the kindness in her voice wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Human connection was so important to Evangeline, and to feel seen by another was always one of the most joyous aspects of those connections. “Thank you,” she said softly, her voice a little more than a whisper as she met Marisol’s gaze. “That really means a lot to me. I didn’t expect to feel so connected to a place this quickly, but Cardinal Hill… it’s different. It feels like home.” Evangeline had had many homes in her life, and so she couldn't say if this would be her home forever, but it definitely was for the time being, and she was thrilled about that.

She felt a quiet warmth settle in her chest as Marisol spoke about the town and the energy it gave off. Evangeline had only just begun to understand the deeper layers of Cardinal Hill, and hearing it reflected back at her like this, with such understanding, filled her with a quiet sense of belonging she hadn’t expected. God, Evangeline loved speaking to new people. “I’m glad it resonates with you,” she added, glancing at the piece in front of them again. “It’s the town, really - its quiet moments, and those little things people often overlook. It’s like they’re all captured in this one, simple scene. The magic is in the stillness.”

When Marisol spoke about the magic of the town and the connection Evangeline had with it, something shifted in her so warmly, so pleasantly; it was so affirming, in such a surprisingly joyous way. Cardinal Hill had called to her in ways she didn’t yet fully understand, and the connection she was beginning to feel was undeniable. “I think you’re right,” Evangeline agreed, her voice full of a quiet certainty. “There’s something in the air here… it’s hard to explain, but it’s definitely real.” She gave a small, almost shy smile. “I’m happy that I’m able to capture even a fraction of that with my art.”

As Marisol spoke of the stall and the magic of seeing beyond the surface, Evangeline nodded slowly. She had always prided herself on looking deeper, on seeking out what was hidden beneath the surface, whether in her own work or in the people she met - which had naturally been influenced by her father's work in her upbringing. Now, it seemed that Cardinal Hill, with all its quirky charm and underlying mysteries, was doing the same with her. She wasn’t here by accident. She was meant to be here.

Her breath caught a little as Marisol mentioned taking the piece home with her. The idea of it finding a place where it would be appreciated, framed and displayed, filled her with a sense of pride she didn’t expect. Evangeline had given away and sold her art to so many different people, but it wasn't every time that it felt so meant to be. She looked at the painting again, the way the light seemed to dance across the water, and felt a pang of reluctance to let it go. But she could see it - framed and placed just right in Marisol’s home, a part of the woman’s world, and that felt right too, even more so than Evangeline keeping it herself.

“I’d be honoured,” Evangeline replied, her voice steady but warm. “It’s exactly what I wanted, to share my art with someone who truly appreciates it. I would love to come visit Widow’s Wail to see it once it’s framed. Thank you, Marisol.” She took a deep breath, then smiled. “I’ve already said it, but it’s worth saying again - you’re too kind. Your words mean so much to me.” With the invitation to visit hanging in the air, Evangeline felt a growing sense of excitement. This wasn’t just a transaction of art, it was the beginning of a connection. One she was eager to see unfold.

Marisol listened intently, her gaze lingering on Evangeline’s art with a soft appreciation, her own gratitude evident in the warm smile she offered. "The energy in your work speaks volumes,” she said, admiring how each piece seemed to capture the essence of Cardinal Hill through fresh eyes. “It’s as if you’re breathing life into each scene, and that’s no easy feat.” She gave an approving nod, recognizing the soul poured into these depictions of her beloved town.

As Evangeline mentioned the theme, Marisol’s eyes flickered with understanding. “Choosing autumnal pieces shows great thoughtfulness,” she remarked. “It’s one thing to paint, but quite another to capture the spirit of a season and place." She studied the subtle blend of warm tones and delicate lines Evangeline had used, each brushstroke seeming to evoke a different feeling within her.

Her attention shifted to the favorite piece Evangeline placed before her—a lakeside scene at dusk. Marisol’s eyes softened, taking in the tranquil glow of the setting sun casting warmth over the water. “Ah, yes,” she murmured, tracing her fingers along the air above the piece as if not daring to touch it. “I can see why you feel a connection with this one. It holds a quiet magic of its own—one that words can hardly capture. There’s a sense of stillness, of belonging… as if nature herself is offering up this place as a gift.”

Meeting Evangeline’s gaze, Marisol smiled. “That sense you spoke of — feeling meant to be somewhere — that’s a rare thing. Cardinal Hill is not an easy town, but for those it calls to, it offers more than a place. And I think that may be what you’re capturing here - what she's offering to you. Each piece you make becomes a testament to this moment, and the magic you’re making of it.”

She glanced at the stalls around them, many pristine and deliberate in their presentation, then returned her gaze to Evangeline’s. “You may not have the flashiest stall, but I suspect people will find you for what truly matters—the heart you put into each stroke. After all, that’s the charm of this town: it calls those who see beyond the surface, just as you seem to.” And yet, the town was a siren, and sirens were dangerous, fickle creatures. Still, Marisol didn't have it in her heart to warn the other. She loved the capricious bitch the town could be and welcomed her chaos.

"My mother will love the piece you will give her, and I love this one. Would you allow me to give it a home? I will get it framed, and then, you will come visit me at Widow's Wail to see it, won't you? I will send you a formal invitation, of course. My mother would allow nothing else. But if this piece speaks to you, and you wish to keep it - please. Do."

[sskk-manifesto]

Atsushi's back in the game!!! ۶( ˆ o ˆ )

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Hello.

You and gay-jesus-probably have successfully made me question everything with your view that Tears of the Kingdom is imperialist propaganda, so that's been fun.

Anyway, I decided to share this discussion with the Zelda fans on reddit, and perhaps unsurprisingly, a lot of them disagreed. Here is what they said (I'm Alarming_Afternoon44):

So what do you think? Have I and all these other people just been duped by the game's manipulative framing? Or do they actually have a point?

And if you'd rather not answer this, or would prefer if I censored the usernames, just tell me and I'll delete this.

Hey! Thanks a lot for reaching out, and I'm glad it made you think stuff through!!

Honestly, as I mentioned in this post, I am not super interested about in-world conversations about who oppresses who, because what can be assessed from the game is super vague and more vibes-based than evidence-based. Within the text, of course that the Good Zonais are good and the Bad Ganondorf is bad! But that's my whole point! The narrative has been deliberately crafted so that the zonais and Rauru (and Hyrule) are as blameless as possible (and it's not doing a great job at it overall to be frank; we would not be having these conversations about how offputting it all feels for a non-zero number of people if it did do a great job). More importantly, I want to focus on what sort of real-life narrative it all parallels. Because people make stories, and people live in the real world.

Not going after everyone's throat here, gamedev is hard and the hydras that are AAA game production do end up doing super weird stuff, especially since the thematic ramifications are absolutely never prioritized (and it's also always the same kind of people who make the final calls and push out what can and can't be talked about also). And as fans, we tend to have trouble stepping outside the lens of lore and take a look at the bigger picture sometimes; not as an attack on any individual part of that decision-making process but to just pause, stop, and question our standards, our priorities and the kind of reality (or skewing of reality) the stories we tell each other reflect.

Again: do we want to take videogames seriously or not? If we do, then we need to accept they are a vehicle for ideology, just like any other artform. And sometimes, you push out questionable ideology, sometimes without meaning to, because you didn't unpack your own biases as you did. And it's even fine to do it, nobody is perfect, a 300+ people team spread over 6 years certainly will not be that. But that it wasn't prioritized is, in my opinion, a problem. As a narrative designer, I want games (at least the narrative side) to be held to a higher standard than this. It's literally my job to work with the industry so it can hold itself to higher standards of quality --so the whole TotK situation is quite frustrating to witness from a very pragmatic, work perspective where I already spend my days trying to convince people that things mean things. I have a vested interest here in not having the companies I work for being given a free pass by gamers to do literally whatever as long as it's fun, especially when we're talking about a billion-dollars company suing its own fans left and right for any perceived slight. Nintendo are not underdogs here. It's fine to point out they cut corners and maybe promoted messy ideologies, voluntarily or not.

So long story short: no I don't believe anyone here has a point in regards to what I think is actually important, which is why these choices were made in the first place. If you look at an imperialist text expecting the text to tell you that it's imperialist instead of recognizing a framing used for propaganda by yourself, you're never gonna find any imperialist text ever, obviously not!! I'm sorry if I sound a little gngngn here, but I don't know why audiences have, at large, this feeling that lore and story beat decisions materialize themselves already formed and without any human bias, meddling, intervention, internal politics or approximations (it seems that people can only conceptualize this part if they have actual names to attach to the story, but without clear authors it's like there are no authors and so no bias, which is... a very strange bias in itself). I can promise you that it does not work that way in practice: every narrative department on every big game is a battlefield --some nicer than others, but all of them very emotionally draining either way.

So yeah, I guess that on these grounds, I disagree with every point raised here. Sorry Reddit :/

But thank you for the ask and sorry if I didn't go more into details as to why. The big Why I Dislike Rauru Post and the Gerudo Post might have some more specific rebuttals, but I am not super interested in debating small detail stuff tbh. I feel like it's no use if the frame of reference isn't being understood in the first place.

[theygender]

Does anyone have any good book recommendations that talk about transmisogyny in a way that would be entry level to like. A 50 year old cis lesbian

[spotaus]

YEAHHHH!!!!!! >:D

Ancha I am SO glad you liked it because. Ough. I started writing it at like 11 at night and just. Kept going??? I was so so pumped!!!

I'm gonna try and follow where you went with the ideas, gimme a sec-

Okay so, yeah! Nightmare, at this point, views the training has his relax time! Kinda how someone can spend all their time doing work, say writing reports, and still enjoy writing stories in their free time! It still challenges him and interests him, but it's in a way with low stress. His knights can improve inch by inch now that their foundation is stable! And the training room is one of the most secure rooms in the castle, thanks to reinforcing it to withstand magic attacks!

And I really really wanted to take on idea of each of the guy's strengths! You got it perfectly so I'll try not to linger, but I kinda wanted to run off that original idea I had for the Knights knowing eachother and being in sync, but now it's more fitting to their personalities since I've gone into more depth with them! Killer has greatly influenced the others, in the way they fight and the way they act on the battlefield. It's like setting loose a feral animal on all these Knights who are Not Ready for dirty fighting. (Dust was used to diplomatic scuffles gone wrong, usually with the use of enchanted weaponry, Horror just. Did not fight prior to this. Abd Cross, as mentioned, was a muscle-memiry routine combat kinda guy!) And in the same breath, Killer learned from them too! Night might be their mentor, but Killer was committed to being a good influence on them, even if it didn't register to any of them-

A lot of that was also me trying to get a grip on how they'd behave in such a space alone with Night. Killer the most relaxed, Cross the most nervous, etc! And the little banter between them was fun!! (I also was trying to use technique I learned recently so combat reflection was a good opportunity for it, haha!)

One of my favorite bits in the beginning I think was, like you mentioned, Nightmare making sure they left training on a high note! I took the idea from your Q&A drabble actually, when u mentioned Night looking for ways to better keep hold of his knights? Yeah, he ensures to be even more vocal about what he noticed everyone doing well, just so they know! And Cross takes the praise the best visually, but he can tell the others at least seem pleased by it <3

Lastly!!! Yes, the bed-time was meant to be sorta a hint to the incoming turn of events, but it's also just meant to be a cute lil cameo too!! I think a few things never quite left his habits (like, his body getting more tired around Bedtime even though he regularly skipped sleep all together anymore) because. Y'know! Adult body still has Kid Night in there running the show! And because of the weird suspended state of his mind, it left him with odd quirks!

Okay, okay, hearing that you enjoyed the drama bit makes me SO happy, because this time I wanted to go with sonething that felt a bit more Nightmare-accurate. Night was always a quiet kid, a fawn rather than fight or flight, he kept his emotions tight to his chest because so few people cared in the first place. So, when his magic (the thing that made his moves for him, before he could freeze up or downplay or smother his feelings) Leaves? He's exhausted, and confused, and scared, and frankly out of it. He fawns again!

And the magic leaving, this time I wanted it to feel like it was in a moment of lull, no tension, no stakes (aside from a stinky Killer) and no sign for Night that anything was wrong. It all just dipped at once, and as it left his awareness it left him dizzy, disoriented, and!!!! I'm glad that you caught that he couldn't feel anything because the magic refused to work with him anymore!!! So the normal input didn't transfer to him!!! That weird lack of senses was also sort of my excuse to let the Knights start freaking out! Because idk how clear it was (intentionally not very if I did my job right lol-) but when Night's balance starts to screw up, Killer turns around. But it's Night initially who reaches out and grabs his arm, and then Killer has indirect permission to support his weight further and grab hold of him! Night subconsciously reached out to Killer, even if he didn't realize it in the moment. And ofc that's Killer being like 'oh that's not normal'.

And!!! Like in the og drabble, Dust goes on high alert immediately, but this time Cross and Horror hesitate! There's a part that Nightmare misses where Horror expresses worry and suggests he should grab the first aid and take a look, and Killer tells him no. Because Night (in that moment) is unresponsive, and Killer doesn't think Horror coukd help even if he tried. He might make it worse. And Horror tries to press his offer, before Night comes-to again to hear Killer snap at Horror to get Ccino! And like you said, Killer has no idea what's happening, but he's sure if anyone could help it would be Ccino! And in the meantime he just tries to keep Nightmare close, keep him steady. He doesn't like it one bit, but he knows he has to keep watch because Dust doesn't sense/see anyone, and Cross doesn't either as he guards the door!

And, ofc, Killer was horrified to find what was basically a babybones in his arms when all the goop left, but he was also shaken because. Well. That's the Prince from the tapestry. Night doesn't make the connection, but he'd seen images of Nightmare a few times, abd certainly images of his twin, enough to recognize that. Yeah. That's the same guy. And he can't explain it, but since Dust chimes in with magic loss, Killer makes some leaps in judgement. (Also!!! Dust isn't good with magic usually, but Nightmare's was so impressive it was always looming. The moment it was gone he spoke up. He's also OBNOXIOUSLY familiar with symptoms of magic loss. For. Obvious reasons 🙏)

Nightmare, in his fawning, couldn't decide whether the voice in his head reminding him that these Knights were kind, loyal souls was right, or if the instincts telling him to get away NOW were winning. He compromised in the firm of 'can't really move anyways so I'll sit here and be scared'.

And!!!!! I'm glad u liked Killer telling Cross to hold onto the magic! Killer's smart, and a fast thinker, and Cross was the nearest thing with any chance if keeping his king from??? Melting??? And to Cross' credit he DID grab it! He did great! (He feels awful about it after because from what *he* saw, it didn't help. It did! He just doesn't know!)

And. Ccino's piece in this was probably the part I was least certain on. Because Ccino assumed the Knights somehow set Nightmare into one of his worse episodes. Or, worse, he worried Night accidentally hurt one of the Knights and panicked. Horror was pretty vague about why he needed to hurry. And Ccino gets there and- well.

He hasn't seen that little skull in seven years, and it's got a big crack, and it's trembling, and one big eyelight is looking up at him. Nightmare was always his little brother, and yet all at once his instincts kicked back in. This was no powerful bomb waiting to be nudged just too far before exploding, not some otherworldly tyrant. This was his Nighty, somehow back to the way he was the day he protected his twin and swore into the prophecy. This was HIS Nighty.

So, for the first time in a while he drops pretenses. There's no effort to hide him away, Ccino knows well enough that trying to remove Nightmare from the Knight's vision right now would possibly get them both in hot water. So he does what he can, throws open his arms, and coddled his little brother tightly. So, so tightly. He has no idea how, or why, and obviously it's the same Night who'd spent the morning writing laws, but it was so surreal that he just had to get him close!!!!!

And Night, yeah, he just feels safe with Ccino, and irrational mind running off of a huge magic-drop? He deemed Ccino's arms a perfect place to shed some tears and then pass out-

If I had to do a follow-up it'd definitely be either a Ccino or Killer chapter following either the moment Night is free of the goop (Killer) or the moment he enters the training room (Ccino) and then the conversational aftermath! (I also think they move the whole party to Nightmare's room eventually, and somewhere along the line Dust brings up that lighter foods might help-) just lil silly details haha! But it's basically a force of nature making the Knights and Ccino agree to a pact of sorts just to agree to help Nightmare. He's still the king. He's just... young now. Again.

Okay I got a lil wild but- I'm just so so happy you enjoyed it!!! A healthy balance if shenanigans for the boys, panic for Nightmare, and an unexpected surprise for Ccino!!!!

New Age AU (The Magic Retreats)

Hi guys!!! So, I wrote this one in a fit of passion, but here's a brief take 2 on the most important chapter of the fic and the first one I posted! (In which Night becomes Tiny again :] ) As always this drabble is unedited and un-checked so uhh. Good luck!

(HI @ancha-aus , @papiliovolens , and @mutzelputz welcome back!)

   The days felt like they were growing longer again. Maybe it was the change of the seasons, or the workload ramping up again making his nights bleed into his mornings. No matter the case, Nightmare was lucky to have moments of rest from his endless piles of debts and taxes and laws and requests that were strewn all about his office. They were nice, neat, piles now, but they seemed to be an endless cycle. He'd solve one problem and it would result in a new report of catastrophe somewhere else.

   Often, he wondered whether it was that his Mother's ruling style had truly worked, or if she'd ignored it. After all, she'd been a God amongst mortals, why would she care for a few challenged livelihoods amidst her paradise?

   The sharp clash of metal on magic drew Nightmare's attention back to the present. Against all odds, he'd managed to convince Cross to start training his sword again. When Cross had first started getting lessons to properly control his magic, harnessing even whisps of Nightmare's own spells on occasion, he'd quickly neglected his physical training. Over the last few weeks, Nightmare had voiced his worry that Cross might find himself up against another foe like Dust. One who he couldn't simply control. He needed to re-learn his old battle tactics. Only then, he'd promised, they would move on to harnessing both at once.

   So, now, he was sparring against Horror in the training room. Nightmare sat off to the side on the benches, Dust and Killer on either side of him watching intently. Two of his tendrils hovered readily before him, ready to pounce to intercept any wayward attacks or truly dangerous intent, though he trusted his Knight to not put his newest comrade in any real danger. The other two tendrils lay lax behind the bench, curling comfortably beneath where his other Knights sat at his sides.

   These were the sorts of daily distractions he enjoyed. Which pulled him away from the stress of the papers and the outside world. He could focus solely on his charges and how best to help them. They helped him so often, he just wanted to return the favor.

   His eyelight followed the movements, as Horror stayed more or less right on Cross's tail. His axe swung slower than normal, and it was obvious he was taking the training seriously without giving Cross a heart-attack from the force of his normal blows. It wasn't often Nightmare allowed them to pair up precisely because of that. Horror had no magic for Cross to control, none that would help him at least. Meanwhile, Horror's brute strength could snap Cross like a twig if something were to go slightly awry.

   A swing of the axe, Cross's longsword cracking against the handle as he blocked. A push-off, sending Cross back a few steps before he swung. Missed. The axe was on him again, this time towards his side. Cross jumped over it, swung his sword. Missed again. The axe came in again, from above. A narrow block, one which forced Cross to his knee, before Horror let up.

   Horror was simply a marvel of physical combat. He hadn't been a good fighter when Nightmare met him, but he'd learned very quickly. From watching the guards, from listening to Nightmare. Though, Nightmare was almost positive Killer had actually been his biggest influence. Killer, the cockpit, single Knight at that time. He'd taken Dust under his supervision at the time, practically heading the dismantling of the crime rings Dust knew so well all on his own. Meanwhile, Nightmare was working with Horror to understand how to fix the farming situation across the kingdom. Once things settled, and Nightmare expressed interest in having Horror stick around, it was Killer who showed off in combat training. Horror spun off his feet and pushed off his hands in the way expected of a much smaller, leaner, monster. Very similar to how Killer fought when he was playing around.

   It was evidently too unfamiliar for Cross. He'd been taught formal swordplay, but here in this kingdom? That was about as useful as playing with a slingshot and trying to operate a trebuchet. It seemed similar, but it could only get one so far.

   Cross had been steadily improving, of course. Just a year or so ago, Cross had been besting all the rest of the royal guard out on the training field. But placed against Killer, the best of the best at practical combat, no holds bar? He'd fumbled. Now, Nightmare knew Cross could hold his own against his proudest Knight. That meant a lot in such a short time. Pride filled his chest at the thought, as he watched the two of them clash again and again.

   He knew his time was running short for today. He'd had Dust and Killer work on their team-building and attack him earlier on in training while Cross and Horror were warming up. As he already knew, they were chatty, but very efficient in their coordination.

   "On your left!" Killer would call out. Dust would simply duck as Killer instead vaulted over his head as though emerging from the shorter Knight's shadow, knife in hand, glowing red with energy.

   Killer's use of deceptive verbal cues was a talent he'd come up with all his own. Nightmare remembered him pestering Dust over it every dinner for a week after he'd first thought of it. Dust had seemed annoyed at first, but Nightmare could tell after the first session of them trying it out, against him? He'd been unaware, and if his magic didn't work separate from his mind on occasion, they would have gotten him in the first two minutes.

   They'd used it again earlier, and even after several years it still kept Nightmare on his toes. He figured that was why he felt tired as he watched the two locked in mock battle before him. The cognitive challenges did tend to make his socket heavy with sleep. And he hated to admit it, but he always knew about when to end their afternoon trainings, because it lined up with when his mind would start to lag. Even years later, his body still seemed to respond to the familiar draw of a long-discarded bed time.

   He'd let them exchange a few more blows, before calling it off and ushering them all off to clean up before dinner. Even if he knew only Cross and Dust would go wash up. Horror would go change out of his training gear into clean clothes, he hated to look messy at the dinner table, abd Killer would simply stick to his side like glue.

   It never was a point of complaint, he appreciated the commitment, but sometimes he really did wish he'd at least take a moment to swap clothes. Sometimes he tracked all sorts of dirt and scraps of magic out of the training room and into the halls.

   Mm. The clashing seemed to have reached a rhythm. That meant Cross had gotten familiar with Horror's movement patterns again. It never lasted long, Horror was very adaptable, but it did mean that Cross would be locked into the stalemate now, or it'd be an easy defeat for Horror. Better to call it now and send them off with a bit of praise. They never ceased to impress him, they'd all grown so much.

   "Alright, end the match." he called. It didn't take hardly a moment for the order to register after his voice carried to the two monsters.

   Cross was the first to pull away, with Horror letting his swing fall short and his Axe's momentum swing up and into the air. He caught the grip and almost immediately stuffed it back into its own holster along his back. Cross sheathed his sword, and while a bit out of breath, he still grinned triumphantly and bowed amicably to Horror. Horror returned it with a nod. Their little ritual.

   "Wonderful work today, all of you." Nightmare announced, his front two tendrils slinking back to his sides as they no longer had danger to be hyper aware of. To defend against. "Tomorrow, I want to see you two spar again, I believe you are making great leaps in progress, Cross. Dust will provide you both with terrain obstacles in the form of erratic magic attacks to simulate a more turbulent battle field and provide Horror with more opportunity to practice dodging." The suggestion seemed well-recieved, and Nightmare let his good eyelight turn to Killer, who sat grinning beside him. "Killer, you and I will be doing more endurance training for your magic."

   "Looking forward to it, my Lord," Killer replied.

   That made Nightmare chuckle a bit. Once upon a time, Killer would tense up at the premise of magic training. Then, as he grew bolder, groan at the mention. He was not proficient in the sort of magic Cross, Dust, or he himself relied on, but his preferred weapon was a knife or two summoned by his own soul. Since it was magic, Nightmare insisted he learn to better sustain and alter it rather than letting it atrophy in the wake of his extensive physical training. Now, seeing him grin lazily at the idea, not a worry weighing on his soul? It made Nightmare feel a lot more justified in making the rambunctious Knight do the more "boring" practical training.

   "If we understand what to expect for the afternoon tomorrow, then you are dismissed. I will see you all at dinner," he declared. Humor filled his chest at the warmth which rolled off his knights at the mention of food. Dinner was always cooked by Ccino, and Ccino was the best cook. Nightmare would know.

   He watched as Cross gave a little salute before he turned on his heel to begin to follow Horror's lumbering gait towards the heavy doors separating this room from the hall. The newest Knight's voice was quiet, but excitable as he started to reflect on his techniques to Horror. He always debriefed after a training.

   Beside him, Dust swung forward off the bench and landed silently, already moving to follow the other two. His body-language always seemed disgruntled, and his expression was hidden under his darkened hood, but Nightmare knew he was pleased with his work tonight. Content with what he had accomplished.

   "Cross is gettin' a lot faster." Killer's voice was calm beside him, and Nightmare followed the other's hollow gaze to where the other three were discarding their gear, hanging it up on the racks near the door where they always stored the supplies.

   Four spaces, one for each knight. Killer had gouged his name into the wooden base of his own years ago.

   "I agree." Nightmare let one of his tendrils wrap at the ground around a leg of the bench. "It helps that he is eager and willing to improve on his skills. And that he has others to lean on as he continues to learn."

   Killer's scoff quickly devolved into a laugh at the thinly veiled praise. It wasn't unusual of him to slip it into conversation. A quick, gentle nudge of praise. Acknowledgement and appreciation. Killer had heard to most of it, and Nightmare often worried he'd find it insincere.

   As far as he knew, he never did.

   "You should go put up your armor as well." Nightmare suggested, nudging at Killer's back with a tendril.

  

   "Yes, sir." Killer chimed, the sharpness of his laughter still on his tongue.

   Nightmare rose simply, and Killer pushed off the bench with a quick hop. His feet planted, and Nightmare waited for him to take a step towards where the others were before moving to follow. It felt right, to see them all in one spot. Relaxed.

   He moved to follow Killer's quick steps, only... All at once his vision seemed to double, and he halted himself. He could feel his tendrils lash out, moving to stabilize him against the floor of the training room. He still stood upright, just barely, but it seemed all his balance had left him. Instinctively, in a fit of habit, he shut his good socket and took a moment. The swaying feeling he was gripped by, even after a deep breath an counting to five, did not fade. The darkness which usually seemed to calm him only seemed to make the swaying worse. He could not tell if the motion was coming from him, or I the ground beneath him was shifting like the deck of a boat. Without his vision he couldn't orient up versus down, let alone find his stability again.

   Opening his good socket provided him with orientation, though his vision still danced and swirled. He was looking down, down towards the brick ground, from the space behind his palm. When did he place his hand to his socket? The view included his legs, which he recognized now were shaking, and his tendrils which were trying to hold him in place.

   And...

   He jolted at the contact he could see but hadn't felt in the slightest. He skull reeled up so that he could see who had touched him. One hand on his elbow. The other- when did he grab Killer's arm? When had Killer turned around to look at him? Why was Killer looking at him like that?

   It was Killer, who had ahold of him, though he couldn't feel the Knight's touch, and he couldn't tell if he was gripping the other's arm at all. Though he was, he could see it.

   His vision warped again with the quick movement. A desperate bid to look past Killer. Was there a threat? The blurry form of Dust shot past him, he thought. Horror and Cross still seemed to be by the door.

   The ceiling. Why was he looking at the ceiling? No, wait, the floor now. It grew closer, in the space between himself and Killer, as the opening for him to see it grew smaller. Then he couldn't see it at all, his vision replaced swiftly by- training gear. The leather smell invaded his senses as the rest failed him. He couldn't feel Killer, though he knew the knight was near to him. That, as far as he could tell, Killer had caught him. That he'd sunken to the ground under his own weight.

   Why?

   His socket wasn't being helpful. It seemed, from what he saw, that his tendrils were trying to melt away as they moved errantly to slap onto Killer's back or the ground beyond. Surely that wasn't right? His tendrils had never wavered. He shut his socket again, letting his skull sink into the training armor again.

   It didn't occur to him for a few moments, that he couldn't hear his knights, until he suddenly could.

   The voices were loud and grating, breaking his wobbling darkness once again as he tried to force his socket back open. What was wrong with him?

   "Horror, I said go get Ccino! Now!" Killer. He'd know that voice anywhere, though he didn't like the angry tone. Like fire spitting from his tongue seemingly right above Nightmare's skull. "This isn't some sort of test, I- I don't know what this is. It can't be good."

   Nightmare tried to reach out. Not physically, it felt he still couldn't control his limbs. No, he tried to sense. Did the others know what was wrong with him? Was the rising panic in his chest originating from his own emotions or theirs? Had... had one of them done something?

   No, it wasn't them.

   "Shit." Somewhere behind him, he heard Dust's voice hiss. "His magic levels are dropping. And fast."

   For a second, Nightmare was stunned. What did he mean his magic levels were dropping? Though, it made sense. Somewhere deep in his chest he could feel it, the swaying motion as his magic tried to peel away from his bones. He-

   "What do you-" Killer still sounded frustrated, and he too spat an expletive a moment later.

   Nightmare, for the briefest moment, thought he felt touch again against his skull. He let his blurry socket fall closed again, the vision only worsening as his magic rocked with unseen waves of revulsion.

   "Cross, try to grab his magic," Killer ordered.

   The familiar splattering of the young Night would've been comforting, if the suggestion didn't fill him with dread. Killer knew better than that. They'd agreed Cross could only touch on controlling his magic. Nothing more. It was too vast.

   "W-what! I- I shouldn't-" Cross attempted to stammer a defense, but Killer was quicker with words. Always had been.

   "Just try. Now. Hold it in place and see if it stablizes." The command was a lot more controlled than the previous one, but his tone was leaving no room for error. "When the King and Ccino are unavailable, I'm in charge. Listen to me."

   Nightmare had never heard Killer take charge in such a way before, and in his haze he might've written it off as a product of his imagination. All of this being some sort of weird hallucination. But he felt the invasive force of Cross' magic snake over his bones.

   He'd felt it before, a sort of blanket or hand-hold aimed at the ends if his tendrils which could make them twitch a bit with Cross's own will. This time he felt it creep up the length of his spine and dig unseen claws into his shoulder blades. He could feel it, just like he could now feel Killer's chin and shoulder, where his skull had been tucked. He could feel the hand supporting his back, the other his side. He felt limp as the forceful magic washed over him.

   Nightmare gagged.

   Cross's magic caught on something, like a hook finding the fish, and for a brief few moments, Nightmare felt like he had a ball of gunk in his non-existant gut. Something heavy and feral, trying to escape.

   For just a moment, he regained a breath of awareness. He felt his Knight supporting his weight, he felt the nakedness of his back where his tendrils had completely abandoned him, he felt the emotions of the three still with him. Fear. Confusion. Anger. He didn't like it much. He still couldn't move his limbs.

   And just as quickly as it was stable, the hold on the wild magic slipped away. Like the fish had broken the string.

   It flowed up, like the force of a dam finally released. Through his ribcage, past his shoulders where Cross's magic seemed to dissipate all at once, into his mouth.

   Nightmare regained some semblance of control over his body at that moment. As the magic seemed to rush towards freedom. He shoved away from Killer all at once, the chill of the stone hitting his palms heavily and his socket opening if only to watch as he lost it. That dark, thick, sticky magic that had marked him as a bad omen. That had gifted him the power to rule in place of his twin. Protect those he loved.

    It spilled to the stone before him, and he was stunned to watched that, as he heaved suddenly labored breaths, it sunk away. Disappeared. Just like that, instead of his familiar darkness, the protective shield, the instinctive defense he had grown to know, he was staring at the floor. And the space in which his wobbling arms hid under too-big sleeves, and from the cuffs escaped perfect, pearly-white bone. Bone he could never seem to reach no matter how hard he scrubbed with water and soap. Bones that seemed so frail in the torchlight.

   "My king?"

   Nightmare let his eyelight raise from the ground. It wasn't as wobbly anymore, his vision slowly coming back to normal. He still took his time trailing from the ground, to look at Killer's pants. He was on his knees, hardly an arm's length away. Then the edges of his chestplate. His arms were outstretched, hovering barely away from touching Nightmare. He shook at the closeness, but didn't dare try to move. Killer's soul was wobbling. Nightmare's boww furrowed at the sight. It was very small, but he'd always notice the little changes and moves. Though, he noticed an absence of something at the back of his skull as he stared. Something missing.

   Killer's face was last. He looked serious, his dark sockets not a new sight, but Nightmare hardly saw Killer so serious. He'd seen the look before. Usually when he'd see someone bothering Ccino. It had always been brief, quickly disguised under his patented sadistic grin. Killer just watched him now. As though he was sone glass sculpture ready to tip off the end of the table.

   He hated, as he stared, that he couldn't- he could feel-

   He tried to shift, to whip his head to look for the knight he knew should've been behind him. And he was right, of course. A glimpse of Dust's shadowed skull and tense body-language told Night he was on high-alert, but Nightmare hadn't been able to feel him. Hadn't sensed his presence at all. No emotions, no aura, no nothing.

  

   "Woah, steady!" Killer yelped as Nightmare felt himself tilt.

   Looking up at Dust had disoriented him. The weight distribution was different now. His body listed to the side, and he flinched when arms wrapped around at his sides and tugged his upper half onto soft fabric. Killer's legs. Killer had caught him.

   "My king, Nightmare, it's you, right?" He sounded the same. Something told Nightmare he was uncertain.

   "Y-" His attempt to speak was short-lived. His voice wasn't right. It was high-pitched and raw. All the rumble and low tones entirely missing. He couldn't be sure if he stopped on account of keeping his pride alive, or if he feared speaking in a voice he hadn't heard in years.

   It didn't help that he couldn't feel them. No matter how much he tried, the only feeling in his chest was his own solitary anxiety. Balling up tighter and tighter, an old friend come home again. If he could tell what they were thinking- if he could know if he was safe...

   He bit back his panic, holding in the weakness which was threatening to give him away. Though, what else was there to give? If he was right, then the prophecy had finally rejected him. Left him as an offering to a pack of wolves.

   Nightmare knew he was shaking, but some irrational part of him thought that if he kept his socket shut that this would all be some absurd night terror and he'd wake up cozy in his bed, or exhausted at his desk, or maybe passed out on the floor. Somewhere else. Anywhere else.

  

   "What's wrong?" That voice was deeply familiar, and all at once Nightmare felt like he had a surge of strength. "Why did Horror rush me back here? Where is our King?" It was Ccino. He sounded more frustrated than anything else, but he didn't need to feel his emotions to know the rise to his tone. The worry buried there.

   "We finished training and everything was fine," Killer explained, tone as even as he could muster, "But when we were on our way out, he just collapsed."

   Nightmare pitied him, having to tell Ccino any sort of bad news. Nightmare didn't think as he attempted again to shove himself up. If only to catch a glimpse of Ccino.

   As he peered barely over Killer's shoulder, he saw what the others did. Ccino had some sort if flour or wheat all down the front of his nice apron, and a few streaks along the thighs of hid pants from where he'd probably wiped his hands along the way. His expression was a mix of concern and fury that set Nightmare's soul into a pretzel-twist of regret, and his eyelights scanned the room as he rapidly approached Killer. Obviously looking for answers.

   Only, Ccino arrived to Killer's side, and his growing rage seemed to stop all at once, alongside his steps. He stared down at Nightmare with wide eyes. Nightmare stared up at him wearily. The king's sockets were beginning to water. Ccino's expression, the way his balled fists twitched and relaxed, the way he seemed to lose all the tension I'm his body, just getting a glimpse at him. Ccino recognized his face, no doubt about it.

   "Nightmare?" Ccino's voice was small.

   Nightmare fumbled a bit as he tried to launch away from Killer. Having Ccino so close to him simply... broke whatever had been holding back the emotional damage within. It didn't help in the slightest when Ccino crouched and immediately tugged him away from Killer and into a gentle bear-hug there on the floor.

   For the first time, in a very long time, he found that the welling of tears in his sockets didn't result in dark, tarlike, goop that fell in chunks down his skull. This time the tears were real, a transparent lilac which raced down his cheeks abd planted themselves against the fabric of Ccino's tunic and apron. He wasn't wearing his fur, he was smart like that.

   Ccino's arms wrapped around his back like they always did, and Nightmare felt himself slipping. Ccino was safe. He had always been safe.

   Nightmare didn't have time to begin sobbing as he had expected, or to even begin to hyperventilate into Ccino's shirt or curl into a ball against his chest. The moment Ccino nuzzled the side of his skull, his vision went blurry again.

   At the tightening of Ccino's grip, he heard Dust's voice again. "Magic-loss. A lot of it." Faintly rolled into his mind like a distance voice two doors over. He didn't quite catch when Killer started to speak again, or Ccino worriedly said his name. Dust was right, the magic was gone. Out of nowhere. It was a lot for his little body to handle.

[sysig]

Just thinking about @10yrsy’s Things, y’know, casually (Patreon)

[tbcanary]

thinking about jason and dick. thinking about how when jason was robin, dick was too hurt and angry at bruce to really be there for jason as a mentor and older brother. thinking about how dick is with tim, how he very clearly wants to take him in as a younger brother and show him the ropes, and how he and jason could have gotten there, too, if they had more time to figure it out.

[pixlpawz]

thank you for the love on my fursona forecast post🩷

[viktortittiforov]

the 2010s sure were a time in my life

[no1ryomafan]

The urge to not be the most annoying person ever when Gurren Lagann is mentioned by anyone randomly and I get the urge to scream “DID YOU KNOW GETTER ROBO IS A INFLUENCE ON IT” because every instance it’s always unprompted, probably not getting the person interested and it’s not like I even watched Gurren to make justifiable comparisons nor do I know when the fuck I will.

[enderspawn]

had a bitb themed dream last night except i still haven’t listened to much of bitb so instead it filled in the gaps of bitb horror with my own Personalized Horrors and also timothy rand was there

[disasterhimbo]

[ID: a chart titled “Meaning of RAADS-R Scores” with a “score” column and an “interpretation” column. It says, “25: You are not autistic. 50: Some autistic traits, but likely not autistic (yet some autistic people score as low as 44). 65: The minimum score at which autism is considered. 90: Stronger indications of autism, although non-autistics may score as high. 130: The mean score of autistic people; strong evidence for autism. 160: Very strong evidence for autism. 227: The maximum score autistic people acquired in Ritvo's seminal paper on the RAADS-R. 240: The maximum possible RAADS-R score.”]

If you don’t know your score, take the test here