#making almost immortal characters just to kill them off...

[aghostsnail]

Just so you know, you asked for this

<3

FULL FIC COMING SOMEDAY IM CURRENTLY SITTING AT LIKE 17K WRITTEN WORDS AND SUFFERING ACTIVELY ON THE FIRST CHAP-

IM A LIAR I SAW THE FIRST SENTENCE AND COULDNT HOLD BACK

THE INTERNALIZED DENIAL YOUR WRITING KILLS ME

it didn't respond-no HES not responding someones still in there it can't be a hollow piece of metal when seconds ago it held the most important person??

17k+ words I'm going to be a WRECK

[zayne-li]

Zayne and Siming

First of all, if you’re unfamiliar with the lore of Love and Deepspace, and don’t want to be majorly spoiled for just about everything (mainly Zayne’s lore), then I suggest you skip for now until you learn more. Unless you don’t care about spoilers, then go ahead.

I think that to all of us, so far, other than Sylus(who can blame him, he’s new), Zayne is the most confusing character to the Western audience. Rafayel tells us he’s a mermaid every other sentence, and Xavier has more than a few clues pointing to the fact that he’s a time traveler from another planet and possibly immortal?

Zayne’s main thing that seems to be talked about frequently in his cards and events are more so things related to Gods, fate, and fortune telling. And for me, for a while, this didn’t make a ton of sense to me, because I felt like I didn’t really have anything super specific to compare it to, but clearly he’s not just based off of anything random, you’re meant to recognize him as some specific God of Fate/reader of fate. And then Infold released this video when they released Master of Fates, and I realized that in Chinese, the myth was called Da Siming, which is a real Chinese god. So I got to work. Welcome to my Ted Talk on why Zayne’s entire story, mainly focusing on his main story counterpart, is still Siming in modern day Linkon City. 

Disclaimer: I am no Chinese mythology expert, this is simply what I’ve learned from Google and what that video Infold released tells us.

Who is Siming?

Siming is a Chinese deity or deified functionary of that title(meaning this title can pass from person to person) who makes fine adjustments to human fate (meaning you can pray to him for things as small as a chest cold etc)

He is referred to in Chinese as almost a secretary, his job in allocating human lifespans is almost a bureaucratic one. Think a guy in an insurance office.

Siming's main duty/power is the balancing of yin and yang, specifically in regards to human health/lifespans. He has the power to either shorten or lengthen life essentially as he sees fit (as long as it doesn't fuck things up too badly).

There can be more than one Siming at a time, who take on slightly different roles. Such as Da Siming(Greater Siming) acting as a Priest of Death, and a Shao Siming(Lesser Siming) acting as a Priest of Birth (this is just an example taken from a movie)

other titles (aside from Master of Fate) include Director of Allotted Life Spans, and Director of Destinies

While the 'job' of Siming can be passed down to multiple different people, the length of time they end up serving as Siming can result in different qualifying titles being added to them. 'Da Siming' (which is the one Infold told the story of when they released Shifu in that video apparently no one watched) would be more revered. "Da" means big, or greater, meaning he held that title for a great period of time. Bitch was tenured.

The 3 deathbringers

Essentially 3 spirits who take residence in the 3 energy centers of the human body. (head, chest, abdomen. probably only the chest would be relevant to us, given that Zayne is a cardiac surgeon)

these spirits enter the human body at birth, and seek to hasten the death of their hosts. 

Siming controls the process of these deathbringers killing their hosts, he may or may not permit it. 

to regulate this process, Siming relies on reports given to him by the deathbringers, which are brought to him on specific dates. Based on what he learns he may or may not use that information (and possibly other information) to decide whether or not to shorten or lengthen that specific persons lifespan. 

This bitch is not making sweeping decisions, he's looking at every individual person.

humans are believed to have various things available to alter the judgment of Siming regarding their fates, such as interfering with the reporting process, praying to Siming or his superiors, or following treatment from a doctor to improve the yin-yang balance, and thus extend their lifespan.

Other things:

There's a story about an ancient man who finds a skull on the ground, and mourns the fact that this person never had a proper burial. He lays down on the skull and uses it as a pillow, then has a dream where the skull comes to him and tells him about the tranquility and happiness found in death. The man tells the skull that he could petition Siming to bring him back to life, and then he would be able to return to his family. The skull denies he would want that, asking rhetorically to the man, 'why would anyone in such a peaceful and happy place as death ever want to return to the suffering of living?'

Where do we see these elements pop up in Zayne’s story?

Now, we already know that at the very least Zayne’s Master of Fate myth is heavily based on this deity, and you can see some elements of Siming in Foreseer as well. Foreseer most likely takes place in the far future from Master of Fates given that he resides on Philos, and we know that Philos is the planet humanity started inhabiting only after Earth was destroyed. Philos is also where both Xavier and Sylus are from. This is no Xavier lore post, but if you know anything about his lore, you know that he’s come back in time from the future. There will be a section on Foreseer below, but for now I want to focus on why I believe Zayne is still Siming in present day Linkon City.

The story of the man and the skull immediately brought me back to the World Underneath: Snowy Stairs, where Carter is actively trying to recruit Zayne to Xander Sciences for the purpose of bringing people back from the dead.

Snowy Stairs

First, we see Carter come across (well he’s kind of stalking him actually) Zayne who is consoling a child about the death of their dog, Pilot. The child is asking him to do something to save the dog, and Zayne simply tells him that he’s already dead, while Carter pulls out a Protocore and tells the child that he can bring the dog back to life with it.  

Carter and Zayne then have a mostly one sided conversation about the morals and ethics of using Protocores to bring people and animals back to life. Carter asks Zayne if the natural law is an unshakable moral boundary, or if it’s a comfort people use. 

I see two things here: As Siming, the ability for humans to bring themselves back to life despite the natural law would be a great disruption to the balance of fate, or yin and yang, which would explain why Zayne is so against this process, even though he himself was clearly interested in it at one point for the sole and selfish reason of keeping MC from dying. It seems to me that although Zayne is Siming, MC has some sort of destined death associated with her that is outside of his jurisdiction. Possibly because he has shirked his duties in order to keep her safe in the past (shielding her with umbrellas instead of killing her like he was supposed to as the Master of Fates.)

Carter then tells Zayne of a patient who is on the verge of death and asks him to come take a look and help them at Xander Sciences. Zayne does not appear, and though they seemingly have all the tools to save the man, they still fail. Is it maybe because as Siming, Zayne truly does alone have the power to control life and death? 

Carter then shouts as Zayne gets up to leave: “Our job is to save people. If we can control life and death, why shouldn’t we?!” Which is another clear reference to the job of Siming and the delicate balance he maintains. 

Side note, something else they’re referring to in this part is possibly this procedure of bringing life back has something to do with the creation of Wanderers? Unsure.

Then, Zayne oversees a couple essentially praying to have their son back. Siming controls life and death, and may respond to prayers if he so chooses to. He doesn’t bring the man back to life, but instead cleans the body so that the parents may properly say goodbye to their son. 

In this anecdote what we learn is that Zayne alone is seen as capable of controlling life and death, and it is implied that in whatever research he did on this subject, he found a solution. One that he rejects, possibly because it is a process that can and will result in creating Abominations, as seen in the Dawnbreaker anecdote. Wanderers/Abominations may be like the undead, resulting in these people not finding the proper peace in death. 

Other main story things

Mainly what I’m seeing in main story/event stories is that we are talking about Siming a lot with our present day Zayne, in terms of Gods of fate, and etc(Spceifically I’m thinking about the silk balls event, where that was the main focus of the conversation with him).

Foreseer/Master of Fates

Like I said, I don’t want to go into too much detail on Foreseer, but the fact that he has the power to see into Fate, and has superiors (Astra) tells me that he at least has some of the same powers as he did when he was the Master of Fates. Master of Fates seems to be a more peaceful era of his life as Siming, where I am assuming that all of the slips and scrolls MC is helping him record are indeed related to his ‘reporting’ as Siming, going back to the idea that Siming is more or less a sort of secretary, a record keeper. I believe he fell out of favor with the Gods when he chose to protect MC instead of killing her as he was told by either one of his deathbringers, or one of his superiors(I’m inclined to think it’s the latter).

I believe that after the moment when he chooses to protect MC rather than kill her as he said he would, he went on the run. We later find him as Dr. Zayne, and something happens in the story(we don't know yet) which results in him becoming the Foreseer. 

Foreseer was supposed to let her die as well, or possibly never even meet her, but he instead chooses to finally accept the consequences of his actions as Master of Fates and possibly Dr. Zayne and instead sacrifices himself so that she can live as a sort of. Equal exchange. 

That's uh… that's all I got right now! Will possibly add more to this post later we shall see. Basically I feel like I’m just seeing a lot of parallels between all of Zayne’s major character beats/themes and this specific Chinese deity, and by the Rafayel Precedent(telling us he’s a mermaid and then turning out to be a mermaid), I would not be surprised at all if Dr. Zayne in the main story ends up just being Siming.

[aviradasa]

I was debating whether to do this or not, but since I’m here— I’m going to

Eric Draven x reader-

idk what they are doing yet, but something in me wants to say Eric is comforting reader after a hard HARD day- she hasn’t slept much the past few nights and it’s getting harder for her.. so like.. soft dom Eric?? (No smut- I just kinda need this haha)

Love this request and it kinda got away from me. But then I fell asleep while making it so it's kinda short and also i proofread it not 10 minutes after waking up 🤣

Not my best work but as I get a feel for his character trust it will be better lol. I hope you enjoy this little shitty drabble

It felt like the days just kept dragging on. Like a repeating cycle of the same shit on different days, like you were running in a hamster wheel.

Sleep, eat, work, come home, sleep, repeat. And to top it off you were constantly finding yourself up at night waiting and Worrying.

One of the highlights of your life was your lovely boyfriend Eric. He's the best thing to happen to you in your life. Not a day goes by that you aren't grateful for him.

But with his tendency to go out late at Night, killing those who have it coming, he is also the cause of some of your greatest stress.

Though he was immortal and undead he was still killable if his crow gets injured, and you can't bear the thought of it.

You have tried to ask him if it was possible for the crow to just stay here where it's safe, but with him being able to see through its eyes, he refuses.

He knows about your concern for his safety, and sometimes he wonders if you worry more for him than he does for you.

But you try to hide your fears. Really, you do, but of course he sees right through it. He always did.

He can feel your sorrow when he sees you lately. Almost like it radiates from you.

He sees the bags and dark circles under your eyes growing worse as the weeks go on. you carry on without sleep, and he notices when your mental state declines slowly but surely. Noticing how you seem to be withering away almost

He fights with himself to refrain from asking you about it; he knows if you wish to tell him you will come to him. But he won't pretend It doesn't eat at his eternal soul being kept in the dark.

The day he walked into the apartment at 1 am hearing a loud crash and a loud exclamation of “FUCK” followed By a sob. He was sick of seeing you like this.

He knew part of the issues but not the full extent; he didnt want to be overbearing but he was gonna need to know your mind entirely to help.

So He followed the direction of the noises that led to the bathroom.

Slowly push the door open to see you sitting on the floor up against the wall with your knees to your chest, one of your hands curled into your hair, and the other covering your face as you cry.

Next to you on the floor are the broken Pieces of the cup you kept your toothbrush in, which was most likely the cause of the crash.

Hearing the screech Of the door opening, your head shot up quickly, wiping your face as you look up at him.

Your hair was disheveled from tugging; your eyes were glassy and dilated to the Point he wondered if your soul was truly trapped behind them, and your face and lips had a rosy tint from The salty tears that previously spilled from your eyes.

You looked almost like an animal caught in a trap, looking back at him like you did something wrong, and it hurt to see you in such a state.

Without a word he crouched down next To you, lifting a hand to your face. Gently moving some stray Hairs away from your skin as his fingers glide down your cheek, light as a feather. before tracing them to your chin, tilting your head up to the side and checking for any sign Of injury. Before switching to the other side. He knew there probably wasn't any but it was habit to make sure at this point.

Once satisfied by the inspection, he moves your head to face him, looking you dead in the eyes as he studies you.

It feels like he's reaching into your soul the longer he looks, so you attempt to avert your gaze As if you're Afraid to let him see too much at the moment.

But he doesn't let you. Instead, bringing his other hand to the opposite side of your head. Speaking the first words of the night in A calming voice, “Look at me.”

The gentle tone grabs your attention away from your hardship for a moment, making you latch on to his command like a lifeline as you shift your gaze to him.

Even with the worn grease paint That covers your lover's skin, you can see the tender worry on his features. Most people would probably falter or fear his strange look., But for you, it only calmed you.

I mean it's what You see whenever he does finally appear to you. The black and white paint and leather trenchcoat remind you that he kept his promise to come back to you that night. So you welcome it with open arms each time.

“What happened in here?” He asks you, releasing you from his grip to your misfortune, snapping you out of your thoughts as you look over at the mess with a dazed expression, feeling your throat tighten and your eyes water.

You take a moment before you speak so you don't end up breaking down again though it's in vain as you barely get a sentence in before it all comes out.

“ I came in here to clean up after getting off work cause it fucking pissed me off, and I wasn't thinking and I knocked the fucking cup off and it broke and I couldn't deal with it cause I'm having trouble dealing with everything and I don't know what the fucks going on anymore or what's happening!-” you try to explain, though about halfway through you just end up rambling About all sorts of different things as tears begin to fall once more.

You're so overwhelmed, and feeling like you have no control of your life at the moment scares you more than you can explain. So he makes sure you don't have to. Your rambling said enough.

He sits down fully next to you with a small smile, pulling you into his side, letting you cling to him feeling your grip tighten on the fabric of his shirt as he wraps his arms tightly around you one of his hands gently cradling the back of your head as you release All the pent up emotions that were swirling around your mind.

As you begin to calm down he doesn't say anything. Just sitting in comforting silence until you look up at him.

“I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to come home to this bullshit.” You tell him with a dry chuckle as you lighten your grip on him and sit up a little, using your sleeve to wipe your face.

“You shouldn't be having to deal with this on your own, you need to talk to me about this stuff. I'll be here with you through anything, but you have to let me.” He comforts all While making a pretty good point.

You had a tendency to refuse help or support, not wanting to be a bother. But with Eric, you were just gonna have to learn To communicate whether you want to or Not.

With that in mind, you just give him a small nod before you hear him speak once again “ no, say it to me. What did we just talk about?” He tells you in a sassy tone that surprises you for a moment.

“Come on, you know what I'm sayin'-” I object with an airy laugh, a grin creeping onto his face as he shakes his head side to side. “No, no. You didn't say anything. Shaking your head isn't a direct form of speaking. I want you to promise me. use your words.” He tells you with a hint of amusement.

At this point, he's just trying to put a smile on your face, and it's clearly working. He doesn't give a damn about a promise as long as he can see that smile he loves so much. You roll your eyes at him with a sarcastic sigh “Yeah, Alright, I promise.” I confirm with a smile as I lean back into his side. A few moments go by before you let out a yawn.

“Hey let's get you off this floor. Don't worry about the mess I'll get it. You just get comfortable and I'll meet you out there. ok?” He offers as he stands slowly, holding his hand out to you, hoisting you up slowly with ease.

You shoot him a quiet thank you and a kiss on the cheek before exiting the bathroom. You deeply appreciated his care. But something about it made you wanna return The favor as you made your way to your room.

[multiversalfandomwriter222]

Hii can you write az saying something he doesn't mean and making reader cry and then comforting her? Or the classic flinching during argument? I just really love hurt/comfort loll

Thank you and I hope you have a good day!! <33

OH I LOVE THESE TROPES! Your wish is my command!

Warnings: Cussing, Yelling, somebody almost getting stabbed.

Reckless

"You can't keep doing that shit y/n!" Azriel yells. "Well, what the fuck was I supposed to do Azriel? Just let them corner my older sisters?" You yell. You were supposed to only stay with Nest and Feyre while they were in the library, but you had risked your life, distracting them so Nesta and Feyre could go get help while you led the Hybern Intel down, down, down into the library, and that's when you had met your new best friend, Bryaxis(which is beside the point). Azriel was horrified to find out that you were down there, by yourself, with no one to protect you. But you were always like that. Doing reckless things with your new immortality.

"You were supposed to find a way out, y/n. You put yourself in these situations and it pisses me off!" He steps close to you wings flaring; eyes filled with icy rage. "You cannot keep being so fucking dumb and reckless!" He shouts.

You flinch at the insult, tears filling your eyes. "You whimper and a sob spills from your lips "I-I'm so sorry Azriel." Azriel's eyes widen. "No, no I'm sorry. I'm so sorry angel, I didn't-" He tries to pull you against his chest, but you shove him away. Azriel's heart breaks as he sees you sob, mentally kicking himself for hurting you.

"I was scared. So, so scared to lose you." He whispers. You look at him. "I didn't mean to say that you're dumb, y/n. You are so smart, the most beautiful fae I have ever seen. And the fact that I insulted you just now kills me. I am so sorry." He says. "It's fine." You whisper. "Now please come and hug me. I don't want to be apart anymore." Azriel nods and starts to walk over, but you rush over, impatient to be in his arms. He kisses the top of your head as he rocks you back and forth, sort of like a slow dance moment. "I love you Azriel." You say and look up at him, adoration filling your eyes. Azriel leans down to give you a sweet kiss. "I love you so much angel, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you." He says. "Well, it's a good thing I came along!" You say cheerfully and kiss his cheek.

A/N: Okay! Three in one day! Y'all keep coming with the request, it's helping me be motivated and keep me out of the funk in my head. Keep requesting from the list, but also give me some other characters so I don't get bored and back into my procrastination mood. Love y'all, be safe!

[elbiotipo]

Yeah, like you said, Buddhist and Hindu texts definitely use very large units of time, and they are often meant, not to be perfectly literal, but more placeholder for ''incomprehensibly long time'' which causes fun dissonances when it bleeds into the popular culture.

When it comes to Taoism and Shinto inspired works, however, while symbolic phrase of ten thousand years/things/ eight million kami does retain symbolic meaning, character's insane long ages are often meant to be read as literal, at least in more contemporary works ( so, ten thousand year old protagonist really is that old haha) though context is pretty interesting:

Both Taoism and Shinto generally hold to premise that the older something or somebody is, more spiritually potent it is- whether because they have gathered life energy through careful cultivation, or spiritual power naturally builds up with the years, or they simply attained experience that helps with spiritual insight, or in case of objects or places, have been revered for the centuries and thus empowered with time.

In both of these religions, supernatural creatures ( yao, youkai, xian, guai; can be translated as demon, monster, spirit, tho neither are wholly correct etc) usually start out as completely ordinary animals, plants, objects, natural phenomena, that with long passage of years attained human intellect, form, and supernatural powers- whether by pure luck of existing that long or intentionally seeking out spiritual practices/medicines/magic techniques. So, say, a huli jing/ kitsune/ kumiho/ nine tailed fox isn't spirit or demon that just resembles fox; rather, it began as ordinary fox that lived long enough to develop human intellect, and then decided to seek out more magic knowledge for itself, growing new tail with each century and ascending to Heaven once it reaches 1,000.

Taoism, particularly, is devoted to search for immortality, with that being motivation of both positive and negative characters; it is achieved with everything from medicines and strange herbs; over breathing and physical exercises; to recitation of the particular mantras. Immortals themselves vary in status and power, from ''magic warrior who is ageless and immune to illness but can be killed'' to ''transcendent being whose enlightenment allows them to arise above worldly matters''. Living that uncountably long is both their goal and source of their power at the same time; and basic background logic is that achieving immortality and living for aeons is all too possible if you figure out right way.

Translated in game and novel terms, it usually means that the characters who lived longer are more powerful, both because they had more time to practice and accrue skills, but also because they have more energy to their disposal. On character building side, immortality and thousands of years of existence also plays significant part; in more human focused stories, humans who achieved immortality will be portrayed as kinda distant from mundane mortals, whether because of arrogance or millenia of loss. Meanwhile, in novels that focus on gods and spirits, you will see truly insane numbers ( like 50,000 years, I have even come across stories where age of characters was numbered in millions) with implication that most of that time was spent busying with 1) godly duties of establishing cosmos and commanding natural phenomena 2) being a piece of rock trying to figure out sentience.

Ah, sorry for such large text and getting off topic!

I have almost nothing to comment here because this is truly fascinating. I was aware of some of this but it's interesting to be aware how it is reflected in pop-culture.

That last part of becoming one or the same as natural phenomena really strikes me, from my limited understanding of Taoism, as one very interesting way to explore inmortal characters in a setting; they become part of nature, of the Tao itself. To imagine the life of such a character makes my mind run. I really should learn more about this.

(I'm also writing or at least brainstorming about a huli jing character, and much of what you've said I was aware of but it really gets me some more ideas. The idea that despite all, she was once just a fox, it's really compelling to talk about)

[galaxymagitech]

Grave Ghost

For @jasontoddweek2025 - Day 4:

Grave | Buried Alive | Immortal Jason Todd

Summary:

“I’m you,” Jason says, spreading his arms wide. “Don’t like what you see?” He snorts. “Don’t worry, I don’t either.”

Or: Jason visits his own grave and meets his ghost.

Characters: Jason Todd

Warnings: Referenced sort-of temporary character death?

You can read it here or on AO3!

Even on an early April afternoon, the cemetery grounds are cold and the sky is an overcast gray. It rains plenty in Gotham, but somehow, the water never seems to make it to the flora; the flowers are always wilted, and the grass is perpetually yellow and rough. On one of the cemetery’s mild hills, there lies a patch of freshly turned soil. Above this patch sits gravestone carved like an angel, her hands pressed together in prayer, and an empty coffin sitting six feet below the Earth.

Jay doesn’t how long he’s been standing here—whether it was since yesterday or for years—but he’s here now, an incorporeal hand resting on the stone folds of the angel’s dress as he watches a man approach his grave.

The stranger seems to startle when he sees Jay, but then his shoulders slump in resignation. “Hi, Jay,” he says. When the stranger speaks, Jay’s world seems to slide into focus.

“Who are you?” Jay asks, tilting his head to the side. He observes the stranger’s tired eyes—a blue so similar to Jay’s own, but tinged with the barest hint of green—and wild black hair with a streak of white at the front. Jay registers the hard lines of the man’s jaw, so similar to Willis’s, and the grimace that seems set into his face. Then, his gaze travels down to see the scuffed leather jacket, the muscles honed by years of fighting, the scars crisscrossing the man’s forearms.

“I’m you,” Jason says, spreading his arms wide. “Don’t like what you see?” He snorts. “Don’t worry, I don’t either.”

In a flash, Jay is sitting atop the angel’s shoulder, looking down at—at Jason. At himself, but older and stronger and harder. Even though his heart is nothing more than whisps of a memory, Jay feels his pulse pick up. “Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. This is my place.”

“Good question.” Jason steps forwards, casually treading on his own grave, and plucks one of the stones Bruce left off the base of the gravestone. Tossing it in the air and catching it, Jason grins. “I came to tell you that I’m going to make them pay.”

Them. Jay tilts his head again, trying to understand. Jay knows about revenge, knows the fire that flowed through his veins when he saw his mother’s dealer, when he learned that Two-Face killed his father, when he fought Garzonas. If the Joker stole someone he cared about from him, he would feel that same desire for revenge.

But the Joker didn’t kill someone Jason cared about. Just Jay.

Jason tosses the stone and catches it again. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

“That’s mine,” Jay says, pointing to the stone. “Bruce gave it to me. Put it back.” It’s a silly thing, to be attached to a rock. But it’s one of the only things Jay has, these days. The jagged stones Bruce collected from the cemetery grounds, an empty coffin, and gravedirt. And this one is something Bruce gave him. A gift from his almost-father.

 “Bruce gave you a lot of things,” Jason says, continuing to throw the stone. Toss. Catch. “Including a funeral shroud.”

Jay still doesn’t understand. It must show, because Jason gestures to Jay’s torn, bloody uniform.

“Robin,” Jason clarifies.

“Robin is magic!” Jay shoots forwards, and then he’s standing in front of his older self, his pointer finger less than an inch from Jason’s chest.

Jason throws back his head and laughs.

“Stop it!” Jay stamps his foot, but he lacks the substance to make a sound, let alone shake the ground beneath him. “Stop it, Jason, stop it!”

Jason gasps for air. “Good one kid.” He shakes his head. “Robin is a death sentence. Because you know what? After everything the Joker did to you, Jay, he’s still there. Still in Arkham, laughing his crazy head off. Still in here.” Jason taps his temple with his pointer finger, then raises his thumb and pulls his hand away like the kickback of a gun. “Blam.” Jason laughs again. “Bruce never avenged you. He never even cared about you. You were nothing to him.”

Toss. Catch. “Then why are you still holding his rock?”

Jason drops the stone like it’s a hot coal, then kicks it away with his foot. Jay tries to pick it up, but his hand passes through it and he slumps in defeat. “I’m going to make Bruce pay,” Jason hisses. “Him and the Joker.”

“I don’t want that,” Jay says. “I never asked for that.”

Jason goes from one to a hundred in an instant, just like Willis always did. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Jay flinches away. “You’re just a figment of my imagination!”

“Actually,” Jay says quietly, “I think you’re just a figment of mine.”

“Like hell.”

Jay steps forwards. “You’re just a cheap copy of Willis, a teenager pretending he’s all big and strong and grown up. Laughing like the Joker. Going off about revenge, monologuing. You’re a caricature, Jason. You’re not real.” Jason tries to grab Jay by the throat, and for a moment, Jay’s heart freezes in terror. But then Jason’s hand passes straight through and Jay giggles. “Look at you. Attacking a child, like it’ll make you a real man.”

“Fuck you!” Jason shouts. His voice dissipates into the cemetery’s cold air. “We were never a child, we were a fucking soldier in Bruce’s fucking war and we fucking died for it!”

“We were Robin!” Jay screams right back. “We were magic!”

“You’re not even real!” Jason insists, covering his ears like it’ll stop him from hearing Jay’s voice.

Jay sticks out his tongue. “More real than you.”

“I’m Jason Todd! You’re just ‘Jay’! You’re in my head and I’m not crazy so go the fuck away!”

Jay crosses his arms and huffs out a breath of cold air. “Yeah, I’m Jay. The one with the nickname. The real person. Jay Wayne.” Jason lunges forwards again, but this time, Jay doesn’t even flinch. “I’m Robin. You’re just some kid playing dress-up.”

Jason screams wordlessly, then doubles over, hands on his knees, as he catches his breath. “I’m real. I’m real. Fuck you. I’m real.” He clenches his fists and looks down at Jay to meet his eyes. Jay shivers. “I’m going to give Bruce a choice between me and the Joker. And he’s going to have to choose. And then you’ll see how little we mean to him. Maybe then you’ll finally fucking die.” Jason’s fist flies at the gravestone, hitting it with a sickening crack. Fear shoots through Jay’s chest, and before he knows it, he’s behind the gravestone, peeking out at his older self. Jason’s face goes pale like the corpse that he is. “Wait. Kid. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I didn’t come here to argue with myself.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Jay whispers, still hiding.

“To read you a bedtime story,” Jason says. “You died today, after all. Figured you could use something to help you fall asleep.”

“That’s dumb,” Jay says, but he still slips out from behind the cracked angel statue and sits on the barren earth of his grave, crisscross-applesauce. 

Jason sits across from him, mimicking his position, and pulls a book out of his jacket. Bridge to Terabithia.

“Why that one?” Jay asks, eyes wide. “That’s a sad story.”

“Life’s a sad story, Jay,” Jason says. He sighs. “Because…because you said it yourself: Robin is magic. And magic never comes without a cost.”

“I want a happy story,” Jay pouts.

“Tough luck.” Jason opens the book to the first page. “This is what you’re getting.”

“But—”

Jason stands up gracefully, and for a moment Jay thinks Jason will leave him here in this graveyard, alone forever and ever and ever. But instead, the man—teenager, really—picks up the stone he kicked aside.

“You gotta use your left hand,” Jay says. “Bruce always uses his left hand.”

Jason sighs but transfers the stone to his left hand and places it back on the grave with a pointed look. Then, he sits back down and opens Bridge to Terabithia again. Jay doesn’t protest.

When he reads, Jason’s voice is soft and sweet, reminiscent of the boy sitting in front of him who hangs on his every word.

[splosh-crime]

Riordanverse:

Monster Worldbuilding

The Riordanverse has a practically limitless amount of potential and it’s a crying shame that there are so few fics for worldbuilding and viewing the universe at a different angle then we see in the books. I love seeing writers that break from the mold and inspire readers to see things from a different perspective.

The concepts of Monster Sally Jackson, Monster Percy Jackson, Half Monster Percy Jackson, and New Immortal Percy Jackson all fascinate me. If you want to worldbuild but don’t know where to start, put your favorite characters in situations that confront the base concept of you’re working off of and go from there. Tons of opportunity for worldbuilding here.

As an example of lore that can be expanded on for worldbuilding purposes, the monsters in Percy Jackson seem fully sapient and capable of choosing kindness over gluttony/power (Tyson and the Atlantean Cyclopes, Ella and the CHB Harpies, Bob the Titan, Damasen the Giant, Mrs. O’Leary the Hellhound) but we rarely see anyone exploring their perspective or even trying to negotiate with them, let alone finding the boundary that designates “monstrous” empousai vs “mythical” satyrs/fauns beyond their choices and death effect.

Another worldbuilding strategy that has more to do with brainstorming requires asking questions. Would Percy go to Tartarus if he died or is he unable to die? Is he a God, if so; what are his domains? What makes a monster a monster?

Hellhounds are one of the most common monsters but Mrs. O’Leary is a sweetheart (I really don’t understand why there’s no info on how she was tamed tho). Cyclops can either work in Poseidon’s forges or eat children, Iapetus the Titan was evil until he got amnesia and chose for himself while being influenced by Nico, Harpies will kill kids but will also work security at CHB, and Telekhines are explicitly shown manipulating their kids to hate demigods with propaganda.

Clearly monsters have just as much potential for good as humans, so why are they considered monsters but Centaurs, Satyrs, Nymphs, Nereids, Argus, and many misery-based gods aren’t? If it’s about helpfulness then why are Cerberus and Ladon seen as monsters? Is it about looks?

I’ve always thought it was weird that despite Sally’s “death” in The Lightning Thief greatly resembling that of a monster’s (flash of golden light/sand/disintegration), not once did anyone even theorize that she was a monster. Like, I get that it’s not exactly common for gods to have kids with monsters but it does happen, especially with water-based gods. Chrysaor (pirate captain) and Pegasus are famous examples of this, their parents being Medusa and Poseidon. Poseidon had Charybdis (whirlpool), Scylla (6-headed sea monster), and every Cyclops as monster kids, every Siren is a monster kid of Achelous (river god), and Typhon and Echidna were born from gods/primordials too. Sally could’ve been a monster passing as human in the Mist™️ but she wasn’t even suspected because she looks and acts human.

Anyway, if any of you have thoughts, additions, or reactions to anything said here, please don’t hesitate to share in the notes/comments. Almost no one I talk to regularly shares my fandoms or wants to hear my info-dumps so Tumblr’s my enrichment team. All my posts double as invitations to discuss.

[cloveroctobers]

SAVE YOUR BREATH — Armando Aretas [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: This was inspired by the show FROM and this fic has a slight crossover with the show that I squeezed into this plot. I initially had no plans to take it further than a certain symbol. I was supposed to end it there (while also keeping this short) but I kept writing lol! If you haven’t watched you should for this season especially! Also loosely inspired by Midnight mass 🫣 & just know picking songs that fit the spooky vibe or fall aesthetic is also a job y’all 😆

S/N: If you’re a reader who’s been impacted by the hurricane(s) I hope you and your loved ones are safe during this difficult time! 🫶🏽

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & HERE + I’m using: "Give me one good reason not to kill you." "I'm immortal, so…it's actually not possible." + SCENARIOS — 6. Visiting an apple orchard.

SYNOPSIS: in which Armando wants to avenge your death but your attempts to make him let it slide, brings on a new level of danger he’s not all that prepared for.

🏷️: @violetmuses + @believeinthefireflies95 + @nobodygetsza

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Giving Armando space wasn’t really effective since he can still feel you hovering, whether you were behind him lounging against the wall and slicing up some apples to eat while you kept quiet for the most part, or just you simply letting your ghost eyes chill through him.

He’s been on his computer for weeks and didn’t want any help. Any wink of sleep he got was not something he allowed on his own, he’s been functioning off caffeine and eye drops to keep him going trying to track down your killer. Mike’s been telling him to let him handle it, since there was a part of Mike that knew Armando would be back to his old ways, especially after losing you. Now that Mike was slowly building something with his son, he didn’t want Armando to throw it all away. Which definitely brought off heated energy because who was Mike Lowrey to tell Armando how to get justice? Armando had his mother to thank for that, even in death, she was still controlling his life. It has been months since he was on the run and since you played a part in his hiding, that meant you had to serve time, whereas Mike pulled a deal for Armando to work for AMMO that would amount up to the added time he needed to serve, You got the short end of the stick.

No shock there—and to make a long story short, you gave as good as you could in prison but Armando’s mother had it planned that if something were to ever happen to her, she had people that would take you out as well, since she had this unhealthy jealousy when it came to you and Armando.

Nothing ever become of you and Armando but she saw it before you two ever had the chance to fully explore.

So when Mike had to deliver the news of your passing, Armando felt like what was left of him died.

Your relationship with his mother was also very complex. Isabel Aretas was the one who stole you from your own family at just eight years old. Nothing Isabel did made logical sense, you would think that the one person that made your child happy, you would still want your child to have some sort of happiness so that they wouldn’t be alone right? Wrong. Isabel strived to be the only one in her son’s life, out of some unresolved issues and because your bond with Armando was also strong, she wanted to take that with her as well.

It took time but it happened.

In her mind, this would make Armando the deadliest kingpin there could ever be. It builds character, which was her excuse for masking her love as manipulation. When you got away from her, you wanted Armando out too but that resulted in many things with Isabel calling you a, “ungrateful bitch,” and Armando being too blind to see how Isabel was going to get them both killed.

She almost succeeded.

“I think you should just let this go, you’re able to start this new life now. Even if you hate it, maybe it’ll be worth it.” You tried to tell Armando, who wouldn’t bring his red eyes away from the screen.

His brows furrowed as he harshly clicked around on his mouse, “No. I won’t. I’m doing this for us.”

“It’s not going to bring me back.” You state, “Karma will get them one way or another.”

“I don’t have faith in that.”

But he had the answers!

“Well maybe you should have some faith in me.”

“Maybe if you minded your business, you wouldn’t be where you’re at.” Armando snapped, which caught you off guard.

You wouldn’t make excuses for him.

That was low and he knew it because his eyes clenched not long after those words escaped his lips. “I’m sorry—

A gush of wind was all that he heard, which means that you actually left him on his own. It was for a minute too, he kept calling out to you like a crazy person in his apartment as the days went on but you wouldn’t break. Sure he was persistent but you were also very stubborn and didn’t mind making him sweat it out.

There was no way he tried to shift his mother’s actions and deem them as your fault. She took you from your family as a child, causing an accident where you couldn’t remember the last eight years of your life—only the new image the Aretas’ built—killed your father instantly in that accident, left your mother in the hospital with a lengthy recovery just to worry herself into sickness and die not knowing if you were ever safe, made you believe you were living with the Aretas out of false pretenses, made everything so squeaky clean that for years you couldn’t find any true history of your past life, tried to mold you into her one of her many soldiers, continued to lie to about not only you but Armando’s upbringing, and gaslit the both of you once those truth’s came to light.

Isabel was taken out of the game first but at least you were able to go out with a smile on your face, Mrs. Aretas couldn’t say the same.

When you did return, it was when Armando found out the whereabouts of your killer. She was free from jail, ironically five months after your murder—the system pinned it on another inmate—and would be down at the apple orchard with her little family.

“Arman…this isn’t a good idea.” You appeared behind him, as he’s flicking the collar of his leather jacket up after sipping into it.

He scoffs, “Appearing from the shadows today? After you literally ghosted me? is rich I have to say.”

“And I had every right to. This vengefulness is making you sick, haven’t you learned this yet? What is it going to take for you to get it through your thick ass skull, huh?” You follow him as he opens the secret compartment in his room that contained all of his weapons.

You were positive Mike did not know about this stash. Armando probably shouldn’t have any of this kind of weaponry in this temporary home Mike had him set up in. Regardless, Armando was smart he wouldn’t just take these handouts since he knew they came at a cost and had numerous bunkers over the globe. If he wanted to be gone again, he could be.

“You need to get out of my way,” Armando says to you as you simply cross your arms after he comes back out with a case.

You tilt your head, “or what?”

With swiftness, Armando pulls a knife that looks awfully familar as he shoves it right underneath your chin, “Give me one good reason not to kill you.”

Flashing your pretty teeth at him with your arms still folded you respond, “I'm immortal, so…it's actually not possible. Is it genius?”

Armando blinks, “doesn’t mean it still won’t hurt?”

“…that’s the thing, you don’t want to hurt me. You want to hurt everybody else.” You reason, which proves to be right as Armando rolls his eyes before removing the blade from your cold skin.

Sighing Armando puts his back to you, “I really don’t have time for this.”

The sarcasm is heavy in your tone, “Sure but you have time to execute a murder in front of who knows how many people and children?”

“No need to worry,” Armando smirks, “I’m the better shooter anyway.”

Huffing you follow Armando as he starts making his way through the apartment, making sure he has everything before closing the door in your face. Of course you throw your hands up before walking right through the wall to follow the man down the hallway. If he was going to do this, then you were going to be right beside him trying to get him to change his mind before he actually got to the orchard.

It was funny really, Armando going to the one place you loved being. Something you could never explain, you always loved apples since you came into Armando’s life. Apple scented things, favorite fruit and snack were apples, loved baking anything that had to do with apples—not that you had that much time to do that either catching bodies and all but in your sprinkle of free time you did. This was only explained once you knew your background, that you weren’t from another place in South America but North. You had grandparents who owned a farm and were still looking for you after your parents passed.

Your parents were in debt to the wrong people.

The Aretas, so they took the one valuable thing and that happened to be you.

Now here you were not getting to enjoy the sights of the orchard because Armando was out for blood. In your honor. Past you who was just doing these things because you knew you could, would be proud but once you got away from the dark of this game, living the life you could have? Changed how you viewed the world. It drastically changed again once Armando Aretas showed up at your door.

“What are you looking to accomplish by doing this?”

Armando sighed as he opens the car door, “I went over this already.”

“Okay…so what are you going to tell Mike and Secada once they find out?” You inquire as you appear on the passenger side, “The first person they’re going to look for is you, you know that right?”

“I have an alibi.”

“Don’t say something lame like visiting my mausoleum all the way in Massachusetts…knowing you can’t leave the state alone.”

Armando goes quiet which lets you know that was exactly what he was planning on using. He hated having you be one step ahead of him and it showed. The blank expression he shot you, had you snorting into your hand and with a shake of your head you start to comment before Armando interupts.

“Save your breath.” Armando mutters

Moving the seatbelt with a sigh, so you can free your braids you say, “no, I don’t think I will. We went long enough not speaking after you disrespected me by playing the blame game.”

He briefly glances over at you, hand tightening on the wheel, he regretted saying that to you, “I didn’t mean any of it, amiga. I was in my head and when I’m in my head—

“You don’t listen,” you finish with a sharp nod, “which is why I’m telling you that this a bad idea.”

He blinks, “is that a immortal feeling or something?”

You laugh again, “I don’t…think that’s a thing? It’s just natural to not want you to end up, you know? Dead.”

“Appreciate that but the only way I get to move on, is if I do this.”

“Until something else feeds that desire to kill again.”

“We’re always going to be killers, though.” Armando replies, “whether you like it or not in death or life. That’s just what we were made to be.”

“And it’s sad that you can’t see that you can be much more than this.” You tell, “Maybe someday you’ll see that.”

Armando hums, “Are you supposed to be my guardian Angel?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that amigo.” You rest your head back against the headrest, “you did say we were killers and I don’t think murders get to hold angel status.”

“Icarus was a fallen Angel though.”

“Touché.”

A small silence falls over the car ride while being surrounded by the busy life style of Miami. To find quality farms required traveling a good distance so Armando appreciated the silence, to gather his thoughts together. He could have gotten there faster if he purchased another bike but he was very limited now being underneath everyone’s eyes.

With the way Armando drove, it felt like less than over an hour where the palm trees started to fade and the grass roads become more prominent. He’s getting off the exit and there’s a lot less traffic around this area, which worked in Armando’s favor since you knew he preferred to go for the silent kill but if it had to get rowdy he could handle that as well. If there were kids there, which you hoped there wouldn’t be many, you prayed that they would be leaving the site before Armando got into position.

“Would you look at that,” Armando pulls your attention away from the passenger window, “Lime green jeep gladiator, we’re just in time.”

You deeply inhale, sitting up in the passenger seat while Armando keeps his distance, “get the case ready.”

“No.”

The dark haired man with the thick facial hair cuts his eyes at you, “fine. Take the wheel, then.”

And his eyes told you not to argue with him, as he twists to the back of the vehicle to grab said item.

“There’s witnesses.” You state, letting go of the wheel as Armando plops the case right into your lap.

Armando nods, “I’ll aim for the tires, make it seem like they got a flat.”

“…do you know if their kid is with them?”

“I know how to aim,” he argues, moving one hand to the case in your lap to unlock for his gun of choice along with a silencer.

Which didn’t answer your question.

He’s getting ready to roll down his window, your eyes go into slits as a black Escalade cuts you two off. You hold onto the arm of the door as Armando tries to swerve to the right as the Escalade also break checks him.

“Arman,” you start, it’s a feeling that felt like the rolling of waves in the beginning of a storm but warm and you haven’t felt warmth in some time.

He’s slamming on breaks himself, that you feel your toes curl just waiting to slam into the gladiator. Yet the gladiator is off to the left in front of the Escalade that’s attempting to shield your view of the car.

“The hell?” Armando questions and you feel your breathing halt.

In front of you was a tree blocking the pathway to the orchard.

“T-This is it. This is what I tried to warn you of.” You say with shaky breath as you glance to meet Armando’s eyes.

There’s a furrow in Armando’s brows, trying to decipher what you were saying to him. He’s caught off guard by you as he’s yanked out of the driver’s side. You feel a pull to your right, which made you frown because why could you feel this touch when it didn’t belong to Armando?

You’re shoved to your knees beside Armando who’s trying to move the hands that hold him, away until a gun is placed to his temple. The doors to the gladiator are opened, revealing your killer and her wife, who quickly grabs hold of their five year old son.

“No. This isn’t right. I killed you.” She pointed at you, still keeping her distance behind what you and Armando believed to be her bodyguards.

Armando keeps his head still but his eyes move to peek at you.

“You can see me?” You whisper before looking around at your surroundings, “…we shouldn’t be here.”

Your killer laughs, “no, you shouldn’t.” She steps forward, eyes are harsh as she glared at you before shushing her partner while she moves in closer, “did you two come here to kill me and my family? Big mistake.”

Armando shakes his head while admitting, “not your family, just you.”

You wish you could have shushed him in this moment too.

There’s a film of gray that spills over the sky followed by the rustle of trees. You don’t feel safe and not just because everyone can suddenly see you now. Where you resided when you weren’t with Armando, allowed you to see many things you still couldn’t explain. Perhaps it took time to make sense and you didn’t have anyone that worked as a guide. In essence this was just like life.

No answers and just winging it.

However you’ve seen this scene plenty of times before. The getting stuck by a road blockage, always a large tree with vehicles trying to find a way around. It was a cycle before they arrived to the town.

“The town.” You inform causing all eyes to turn to you, “we need to leave, now.”

Your killer huffs, “you keep saying that. You want to leave so bad, here.”

And with that she snatched the gun from one of her bodyguards and aims right at you, firing the gun. At least for this death, you don’t even feel it but you can only imagine how traumatizing this must have been for Armando.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

Waking with a deep gasp that feels as if it’s been punched into your chest, you jolt upwards.

“Whoa, you’re okay.” Armando’s voice is heard to the left of you, his hand rests on your thigh covered blanket.

Your eyes are wide while they connect with his dark ones.

A woman’s voice remarks next, “holy shit! You weren’t lying…and there’s no bullet wound, not even a scar.” Her thumb swipes over your forehead, which you slap away.

“Sorry.” She raised her hands in surrender, “I should introduce myself, I’m Kristi. Armando brought you here in hopes that you’d come back to life. He uh, proved me wrong about you being dead since apparently you were already dead?”

You flick your eyes back to Armando who takes hold of your hand and that’s when you notice they’re stained, “that’s right…”

A click of a gun is heard next, making all eyes turn to a dark skinned man in a blazer.

Not this again!

“Boyd! I don’t think that’s necessary.” Kristi tries to reason.

Boyd scoffs, “I think it is. Sure we get visitors but not ones like her. So you’re gonna tell me the truth and not what I want to fucking hear, are you one of those things because I’ve been waiting to trap one?”

Armando quickly moves to stand in front of the bed, blocking this Boyd guy’s view of you, “Even if she was whatever you’re accusing her to be, why would she tell the person that has a gun pointed at her?”

“That’s fair,” Boyd shrugs, “we just like to have some sort of answers in this fucked up town.”

“Join the club,” you laugh, “since I died, nothing has made much sense. And now I’m back alive or at least somewhat? In this place I’ve only had visions of?”

Boyd starts to lower his gun and shares a glance with the wavy haired woman, who introduced herself as: Kristi.

“…I think we have a lot to discuss before we let you two freely roam the town.”

Armando glances at you from over his shoulder as he speaks, “the town…is that the official name of this depressing looking place?”

“It’s easier to call it as such.” Kristi informs.

Armando realizes that you’re more connected than you let on.

“Sorry about this,” Boyd says as he cuffs Armando who’s confused, “we found some bodies that don’t belong here, along with a young boy who needs looking after, and it’s obvious you were all together and involved in some shit. So I’m going to have to separate you two while we get some more information.”

“Are you fucken serious?” Armando gruffs, “we’ll talk, we have nothing to hide but it seems like you dumbasses do.”

“Yeah alright, wise guy.” Boyd roughly turns Armando around, “I’ll be back before night falls to have a chat with you.” He explains as he shortly looks at you before turning to Kristi, “Make sure she doesn’t leave your sight.”

Armando snickers, “good luck with that, my amiga walks through walls for fun.”

Only that was something you understood, a small smile appearing on the corner of your lips as Boyd and Kristi share a frown, before Boyd leads Armando away from your sight.

“Don’t worry, Armando is in good hands with the sheriff.”

You snort, “that actually exists in this make believe place?”

Kristi pulls up a chair beside you, pulling her stethoscope from around her neck, “unfortunately this place isn’t just in your head.”

A growl rips through your stomach just as she’s scooting forward to listen to your heartbeat and breathing, “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Immortals don’t really get to eat. We just taste.” You answer.

Kristi nods and pushes back, disappearing behind a curtain for a moment before returning with a piece of a fruit, “Well try this for a change.”

You take the apple from her and wipe it against your sweater with slight laughter. Holding the red fruit towards the light, you bring it to your lips and take a bite. The crunch is almost as satisfying as its taste and your eyes close while you chew. “Honey crisp?”

“I…actually don’t know.” Kristi says, “Food has just gotten better around here…But something tells me I should trust your instincts.”

You smile and breathe in as Kristi places the tool against your chest before moving to your back.

“Tell me something…I have a feeling that your boyfriend—

“Save your breath if you’re trying to hint at shooting your shot at him.” You dismiss.

It’s Kristi’s turn to laugh, “oh no…um…just trying to make conversation. And my fiancée actually works here with me. She’s doing inventory but you’ll probably see her later since I’ll be hiking sometime tomorrow.”

You nod, “Hiking? Armando and I aren’t really hiking people. We grew up in Mexico City where rural wasn’t what we were really used to but he wanted to go to the apple orchard today.”

Kristi hums, “doing some good ol’ apple picking huh? Never would have guessed.” She finished with a laugh.

“Guess we can be full of surprises.”

Kristi sits back in the chair, “you can say that again…there’s no heartbeat when I listen to your chest but there’s a sound when I listen to your back.”

“A sound?” You press.

“Like…a whirling sound?”

You tilt your head to the side, which makes Kristi stand and hand you the end of the tool to place into your ears, raising one arm so the wire can travel underneath your arm, she stretches the stethoscope to place at your back.

“Breathe in for me.”

You do.

“Then out and listen,” Kristi continues to instruct.

Following through again, you exhale all the way out awaiting the sound. The whirling sound, that sounds like wind in a snowstorm. A force against the quiet that has no thudding like a normal heart would and it’s so eerie that you know Kristi can’t explain it either.

Taking another bite from the honeycrisp, you continue to listen while you breathe as you normally would and it’s still there every time you exhale. The season you left behind was autumn in a humid climate, you originally passed in late spring, and now as you got into the town and from what you can see from the window, winter was approaching.

Perhaps your heart was the timer for this town?

“Well…” you say around chewing, “either we’re going to be clueless for a while or I’m going to be answer to saving everybody’s lives. Let the party begin, chica!”

Kristi takes the medical device back and plops back down in the chair, offering a small smile. She didn’t know you yet or the guy you came here with but part of Kristi felt like maybe things will start to become a little bit clearer.

So she saved her breath and hoped.

How much more hope can someone have in a place like this?

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

Back at the station, Boyd is pacing in front of the jail cell he’s holding Armando in.

Boyd summarized, “So you kill people for a living?”

“I did.” Armando’s monotone was off putting as he sat comfortably in the jail cell.

Boyd shakes his head and corrects, “you do. You stopped for a little bit because you had no other choice but then relapsed at the sake of your…your girlfriend? Wife? Fiancée?

“My family.” Armando rectifies while Boyd didn’t see the difference or really need the specifics.

“Are you some sort of serial killer?” Boyd quizzes, finding Armando demeanor to be too at ease.

“No. I’m many things but that.”

Boyd’s eyes are in slits as he spits out, “Are you unalive too because there’s no way you didn’t get injured while taking four people out?”

Armando raises his hand, “just more blood to scrub. The real person we should be worried about is her. I told you she was murdered in prison months ago and has been haunting me ever since. Now we get to some fucken fallen tree in the road and everybody but me can see her? That sound right to you, sheriff?”

Boyd laughs, “oh you’re gonna learn very quickly that nothing in this town is right.”

“She said she had visions of this place before in spurts.” Armando reveals with his elbows digging into his knees, “And how she never wanted to be here, how she feared that once I didn’t need to see her anymore this is exactly where she would end up. That some type of power was telling her this would be her eternity and I guess mine too if I didn’t get my shit together.”

“W-what does that mean? If you died? We’re not dead. She maybe but we’re not.”

“How do you know?”

“There’s gotta be missing signs of us. People looking for us. We’ve all been gone too long for there not to be.” Boyd mumbled to himself but Armando feels as if he isn’t too sure.

If that is the case, then that means Mike is probably losing his shit right about now.

Armando inhales and sits back, “looks like we got a lot to learn about each then, right sheriff? And I think the first person you actually want to start with…is her.”

Boyd doesn’t doubt that since Armando didn’t hold anything back. He quickly learned that the man was in his late twenties, had heavy resentment for both of his parents, especially the one he just learned was actually his parent and was now stuck working with him to pay for his crimes, which he’s been trained to basically be a killer with the friend beside him, and had no issue turning back into that person but was it worth it?

“Why do I feel like you’re about to throw her under the bus? If she’s family then why stab her in the back?”

Armando shrugs his shoulders, “It’s not stabbing when you do research and hold your cards close. I know what she is but I don’t know much about this place, only she does. Which is why I’m telling you, you need to let me out of this cage if you know what’s good for you.”

Boyd held Armando’s stare and it only took a few moments for him to believe a complete stranger, which is not something he usually did.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊

When they get back to the clinic, they’re greeted at the door by Kristi who waves them in with a finger to her lips. A frown appears on Boyd’s face as he stops by the door while Armando pushes his way by. He stops at the doorway where a blonde reaches for his shoulder to stop him.

From where they stand, he can see you sleeping on your side. Apple rind fallen from your fingertips, as a white as snow singular wing is arched up and out from your shoulder.

“That’s new and I don’t get out much.” The blonde whispers from Armando’s left.

He folds his arms and turns to meet Boyd and Kristi’s eyes with raised brows.

‘Told you so,’ is written all over his face as he moved to step into the room but the blonde, who touched him again tries to get him not to move any further.

He looks at her hand and then at her face.

She suggests, “I think we should give her some space. Until she’s alert and we see how she reacts, if it’s still out.”

“Marielle’s right, That’s not a bad idea.” Kristi observes.

Armando shrugs Marielle’s hand from him, “how long has she been like that? She normally doesn’t sleep…because she can’t.”

“Not long.” Kristi tells as she glanced at Boyd whose face held complete stress, “Maybe we should get Kenny down here or even Sara?”

Boyd immediately shakes his head, “No to Kenny. We don’t need to bother him right now, we can handle it.”

“You don’t know that, sheriff.” Armando disagrees with a humorless laugh.

“Well, thanks for your load of fucking confidence, Armando.”

“I’m just saying.” Armando leans against the doorway, eyeing you again while crossing one leg over the other, “we…mainly her might have just changed the entire game.”

Boyd clenched his fist and stalked out of the clinic to swing at the air and let out a string of curse words.

Armando rolls his head to look at the two women who peer at the direction where the sheriff walked off too. It was so quiet over here that everyone heard his frustrations.

“Is he always like that? And he’s a sheriff? You might need to check his blood pressure.” Armando mentions while Marielle shakes her head at him and Kristi rolls her eyes.

“You’re strangely calm about this, guy with the bloody hands. You should clean that up by the way.” Marielle says.

Armando unfolds his hands to look at the stains and moves into the main area in search of a sink. “Someone’s got to learn how to not lose their shit and I have a hunch that it’s not that many people around here.”

Kristi defends Boyd, “Okay Mr. Calm, we’ll see how long that lasts once you see what the night brings.”

Armando gives a wicked smile to the two women as he shakes out his damp hands, “I’ve seen plenty in my twenty-eight years and I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”

And with that he moves, despite Marielle’s protest, to sit right beside you, almost keeping guard of you this time around.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Beautiful Song

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Tragedy, Romance, Friendship Characters: Venus, Apollo, Commodus, Reyna, Frank Venus watched her plan come to fruition, and then enjoyed the bonus content that followed. @toapril-official TOApril day 8 - Echoes of Battle Cries. This was supposed to be Aphrodite. Venus wanted in instead.

Venus loved people-watching.  Mortals, immortals, gods… it was all the same to her, wrapped up in the glorious bundle that was entertainment, some dancing to her whims and some dancing all of their own accord, falling in love, falling out of love, breaking hearts…

No-one could ever accuse love of being boring.

It wasn’t just romantic love she presided over, of course.  Love was nothing so narrow-minded, and the making and breaking of friendships, familial and platonic bonds was no less entertaining and fun to play with.

Right then, Apollo was giving her bountiful entertainment on all fronts.  His uncertainty with Reyna – a particularly clever set-up of hers, Venus thought with no small amount of smugness – had reached its conclusion, resulting in an embarrassed Apollo and a Reyna who had finally recognised who she was and what she did and didn’t need to exist as herself.  Venus hadn’t been the only observing god to delight in Apollo’s predicament, there, although she had been rightfully the most delighted, seeing as it was her own handiwork coming to fruition.

Now, she was watching something she had had no hand in, but was enjoying the results regardless.  The emotional torment of the loss of a loved one – platonic perhaps, but Apollo had almost viewed Frank as a son for all that he belonged to her beloved – was delicious.  Venus hadn’t involved herself in Juno’s lifewood scheme, wasn’t particularly interested in what the other goddess got up to most of the time, given her prudish and limiting attitude towards things like monogamy, but that certainly didn’t stop her appreciating the way it had ended in such a blaze of glory.

Apollo’s anguish and pain, his heartbreak at Frank’s sacrifice, came very close to toppling her own Reyna scheme for the most entertaining moment since Apollo and Margaret had arrived at Camp Jupiter, and Venus was also eager to see young Hazel’s reaction to the news.  She was a strong young woman, and that only meant her reaction would be all the more exquisite.

Despite that, Apollo wasn’t done providing her with entertainment she would remember and cherish for centuries, because to finish it off, the third emotional torment of the trio he was experiencing, was a mess of his own making, and that…

Well, Venus loved orchestrating her romances and love-based relationships, loved interfering to gain the maximum entertainment, but she also loved it when people were messy enough that she didn’t even need to give them a nudge to bring out the best and worst in them.

Apollo and Commodus were one such pair.  They had been a disaster from the start, hurtling together like two out of control chariots and crashing together in a tangle of reins that couldn’t be separated and instead drew them even closer together, despite how terribly suited they were for each other – or how perfectly suited they were, depending on the perspective.

Venus had watched them the first time, the power imbalance between them and the way Apollo tried to ignore it and Commodus clawed his way up to try and even it out but always falling short because he wasn’t a god back then, and barely counted now, and thrived on it.  It was always messy, always take and take and take, no side ever giving to the other no matter what pretty words they dressed it up in, and was always destined to end in the most beautifully ugly fashion.

There was something darkly romantic about lovers killing lovers, the possessiveness of it all when they loved and hated themselves and each other, but despite it all, claimed each other’s life and death.  No-one else could have them, not a single aspect of them.  Not their love, not their life, not their death.

Venus had watched Apollo straddle the young emperor in his bathtub, outwardly so calm despite his essence being a wreck, and pin him down in a way that was sensual and brutal all at once.  Ending the life of the mortal he had fallen in love with, a stark parallel to the number of times he had desperately tried to save doomed mortals.

There was nothing healthy about the relationship Apollo and Commodus shared.  Not back then, and not now, either.  Commodus had died, but Commodus had survived, and the hate-love-hate between them had only tangled further, both of them still in love with the other while they hated them with every fibre of their being.

It was poetic that it ended like this.

Apollo’s hands were around Commodus’ throat again, straddling him in the same sensual manner he had millennia before, except they were accompanied by fire instead of water.  Perhaps Apollo himself, one day, would be able to craft something out of the parallels there, if he would bring himself to sing of this.  Venus hoped he would; his songs crafted of heartbreak always excited her essence the way nothing else he wrote quite managed.  A broken god beneath a mortal god, the end of the tale of two doomed lovers, doomed from the start and both always aware of it, but too obsessed to let go regardless.

It didn’t matter that Commodus had lost his beauty in the fire, that he was hardly a husk of the beautiful man he had once been.  Apollo’s anguish was still the same, bolstered even further by Frank’s sacrifice mere seconds before.  It was a tangible thing, the grief.

And then Apollo screamed.

Mortal he might have been, but it was not a mortal cry.  It was the cry of a god, a cry that reached deep inside the fabric of the world and tore at it, shaking the essence of watching gods.

It was thrilling, a song of heartbreak and rage and complicated emotions that all stemmed back to his love for his friends, for those he would see as his children if only he could, for the doomed love story he’d reprised against his will.

Apollo was aghast at what he’d just done, what he’d been able to do, and Venus suspected there were other gods watching and drawing their own opinions, but none of that mattered to her.  Let them think what they want, let Apollo struggle with his emotions and what love could do when he unleashed the darker side of it.

Venus had found her new favourite song of Apollo.

[c0pernicus]

i don't have any friends to talk to about jjk shit so just disregard this dumbass rant

im getting sick and tired of ppl getting all uppity about "sukuna had plot armor thats the only reason that gojo died, it's a bad excuse to say he GoT cAuGhT oFf GuArD especially when gege is going to confirm he was the strongest after all !!!! "

my brother . my brother it is consistent writing not plot armor or bad writing or an excuse . it's consistent . It is a pattern that we see in Gojo .

Listen to me as I say this . Hear me out .

What happened the two other times that we saw Gojo get his shit absolutely rocked? He got caught off guard - By Toji, because he thought he would be safe within the schools barriers and dropped Infinity. By Kenjaku, when his one and only suddenly seemed to have risen from the dead to show up and greet him like nothing ever happened, the one person he trusted the most because he thought he saw him as a person and an individual, and seeing him again made him drop infinity. Both times, he was caught off guard, and both times it bit him in the ass. He isn't immune to fault and mistakes.

NOT TO MENTION, I think it's a great way to represent the full circle of his character arc and design.

He was born to be revered as a God and treated as a weapon- Almost everyone reduces him in some capacity, and the way he's treated like this strips him of his humanity as an individual. He isn't a person, he's The Strongest. He's put under the pressure of being the perfect, world saving tool for Jujutsu society and always has been.

He is just a fucking guy though. Yes, incredibly skilled and raised to be that tool everyone expects him to be, with amazing inherited techniques- But he is just a person. Who makes mistakes, who is caught off guard, who loved and had dreams and is not immortal no matter how much everyone wants to try and say otherwise.

And it makes me think a lot about what he said to Sukuna about teaching him love. Because ultimately, love was his downfall- With Suguru, as the obvious first example, because he wouldn't even let Shoko handle his body after he killed him. And with Megumi, who he raised and cared for like a son or a little brother, who supplied (unwillingly) the weapon that Sukuna used to defeat him. Who Gojo didn't have to go save from the Zen'in and raise himself, but he did anyways because he wanted to not just have faith in the new generations of sorcerers, but have an influence and positive impact on them. Who's to say who Megumi would have become if he was sold to the Zen'in instead of left in Gojo's care? The changes that would have made to the whole plotline?

Both Gojo and Sukuna shared the same loneliness in being the strongest. They both dealt with the massive gap being considered the strongest gave them; Being seen as some unreachable thing that nobody could get close to, with Gojo it being quite literal given his Infinity. But unlike Sukuna, Gojo still wanted and did love. He cared for and about love and connection and the impact of himself on others where Sukuna didn't care at all about it. He forsake it and his humanity because he sought after and wanted to be the strongest. Gojo had it handed to him, he inherited the fact that he was the strongest, but I don't think he ever ultimately wanted it the way that Sukuna coveted it. Gojo took being the strongest as his part to play and his role to fill, despite his own feelings because he knew that the entirety of the Jujutsu world depended on him filling it, and it made the conversation that Itadori has with Sukuna in chapter 265 all the more devastating because of it.

Anyways . I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about all of this nonsense .

[akaranali]

Cosmic Horror V2

Kurt Wagner x Fem reader

In which: A girl infused with the cosmic powers of a celestial wakes up after sleeping for 1000 years wake up in the morden era

Warning: characters may be OOC. Slight spelling/ grammar mistakes. Overpower MC trope

After being a sleep for a couple of thousand year to self reflect on yourself. You walk through the 21st- Century mostly confused with the new technology. Being so use to being awake when new things are invented. For example being alive when the first paper was used. Though the newest thing you heard about was people called “mutants”

According to the people you inte- talked to. You gathered that mutants were basically the evolved species of humans that has powers. What you also learn is that most humans have a strange hatred for them. Being anger at evolution? That a first for humanity.

You keep walking and walking try to theorize what could’ve made humans hate evolution so till you hear the sound of screaming. You lift your gaze to the side to see some…you don’t even know how to describe it. Some huge humanoid thing running rampage. Over the screaming you can hear words like “Damn Mutant” or “I hate mutants”

You almost step into the fight but that damn thing in forcibly stop you. “That ant has no need for my divine justice. You can sit by and watch. I have a feeling some other will deal with it” a voice booms into your head. “God I hate you” you say outside distain in your voice. That stupid celestial that gave you this curse of immortality. Gave you its power but barely let you use it, only when its deems when a person crime is harsh enough for it justice. “One say I swear I’ll overcome-“

You were about to swear when you see huge pile of rumble coming your way. Shrugging it off. It not like this could even kill me, you think closing your eye waiting for it to hit you. But you hear a weird sound and something grabbing your arm. You open your eyes and see you are in a different place. You also see a blue face-a man?.

You look confused and the man seems to notice it. “Are you alright madam? I teleport you somewhere safer” He speaks with a accent you can’t quite make out. The world develop without you so your best guess was someone east from here. You stare very deeply at him and he smile uncomfortable. “Is this your first time seeing a mutant?” He say you can hear the teasing in his voice.

You don’t pay attention to it however. You step closer to him studying him. Blue skin, sharp ears, a bit of fur on the side of his neck, and a tail. Mutants are something. As you keep studying him going closer each second. The mutant starts to blush. You don’t know if he’s uncomfortable or just shy but he seems to shifted up. Before you can ask him anything you hear a voice call out.

“Kurt when need you back over-here!!” A voice yell. Just when that voice screams. The mutant. Now you know as Kurt teleport in a purple smoke leaving you alone. “I should’ve ask for a dna sample” groaning in frustrated you walk away.

Mutant have now peaked your interest. You went back to the battle and found out he was part of some group called the X-Men. Quickly fleeing before anyone of them spots you, you run and see a person who was also in the middle of that attack. Going to them, you quickly learn that the X-men was a super hero group of mutants that helps humans. Though you also learn how much the person hates mutants.

Now your main goal is to study the mutant race, how hard could that be?

An: I plan to Write more i Just wanted to make this one not that long 😭 also this is a horrible version I just didn’t want to go 2 years without posting….😕

[a-midnight-smoke]

Never meant to leave him here like this

___

Mydei x Phainon (Honkai: Star Rail)

___

content: angst, pining, established relatioship kinda but in separation, exploration of a character a bit

trigger warnings: i guess Mydei talks about ripping his heart out and stuff like that a bit

words: ~1 200

___

Listen, this is just me being insane about homosexuals from a gacha game. If two years ago you would have told me I'd be playing a gacha game other than cookie run I would have shot you with a gun and then myself, but here we are.

I didn't even finish the 3.1 update, but I'm done with Mydei's part of the plot and I SCRAMBLED to write some angst about Phaidei. Also, everyone and their mother talked about this but THE BATH SCENE??????? GET THESE FAGGOTS OUT OF MY FACE!!!!!!

I'll probably write a second part where they're fucking but who knows with me.

This is pretty short, just had to get it off my brain before I exploded, ok bye.

___

The goodbye was… painful. More so than Mydeimos could have imagined it would be, with the way his chest constricted and ached more than from any wound his immortal body had endured. While looking into those sad, bright eyes the colour of the sky, at the edge of Okhema, the last king of Kremnos wished his emotions were taken away the moment he gained divinity. He wished the bloodlust thrumming under his skin had taken over his mind, had let him throw himself into a senseless, neverending battle against the Black Tide, his body breaking and remolding itself every time he fell. But, he wasn't even granted that momentary respite every ‘death’ brought him before. His body was of the strongest steel and most of his foes did not require him to even stand up from his crimson throne. A flick of his gauntleted hand was enough to overwhelm a swarm of enemies before they even managed to come within fifty metres of him. He still fought with them in close combat on occasion, even if just to keep his physique in prime condition befitting the strongest warrior of this world.

During moments of peace, when even the Black Tide seemed to need a respite from the relentless assault, Mydeimos would wander through his kingdom, abandoned and in disarray. He would arrange the books, and stone slates back on their respective shelves, read through those he found curious and practice his Kremnoan that was average at best. He would clean up the debris littering every space in the fallen kingdom, his godly strength making the task almost menial even when faced with picking up entire fallen statues.

It brought him some semblance of peace, a normalcy that he hasn't been granted since he was casted into the Sea of Souls. 

And if he was busying himself with anything and everything at any possible moment that was his to know and for everybody else to not care about. He needed something to focus on lest his mind remind him of how terribly lonely he was. A single moment when his thoughts weren't occupied and the bright, azure eyes, always brimming with unbridled joy whenever they met his own golden ones would appear in his mind's eye, that grin that was equally infuriating and utterly beautiful on the Deliverer's handsome face.

Yet it was also always in moments where the bloodlust tinged his vision red that those same shining eyes brought him back to his senses, the memory of them and the hope and promise of seeing them again someday. In the next life, he hoped.

The ‘next life’ was something he found himself thinking about sometimes, despite his efforts of keeping his thoughts occupied. Fantasies, because they were nothing more than that, of what life could've been, if they lived in different times. Would've Mydeimos ascended the throne after killing his father, if Nikador hadn't gone mad? Would he have continued the conquests and the millenia old tradition of Castrum Kremnos, and not give his people a new path? Maybe he would've come across Aedes Elysiae, fought against its lone, snow-haired protector and ultimately took him in as a spoil of war? A gift, since it would be a shame for such an exquisite warrior to die in a far away village. Oh, the hatred Phainon would've felt for him, for destroying his homeland, for making him into a spectacle - a gladiator fighting for his life and glory in the arena, while Mydeimos watched from his throne up high. They would've clashed someday in the arena, and the King of Kremnos would have spared Phainon's life, in complete disregard of their traditions.

Over time, Phainon would have grown a reluctant respect for Mydeimos, and maybe, after years of winning every Kremnos Festival up until having to fight the king, they would've spend a night in the royal hot bath, after Mydeimos invited the gladiator to join him, a sign of respect and a protection all the same, not that Phainon would need it.

Mydeimos liked to think they would grow to love each other even then, he wanted to believe that their love entwined them in all their lives, as cheesy and corny as it sounded even to his own ears.

In a different fantasy, Mydeimos imagined he and Phainon would have grown up together, maybe in a world where they didn't have to worry about prophecies, the Black Tide and impending apocalypse. They were neighbours, in a village like Aedes Elysiae. From what Phainon told him under the shade of night, with his blue eyes full of sorrow, their legs tangled on the bed, it used to be idyllic and peaceful. It would’ve been nice to grow up in such a place, Mydeimos thought. Running through fields and laying under the golden sky. It seemed almost impossible to the immortal king, such a life was so removed from everything he grew up among, and yet it was Phainon’s reality even in this life. Loving him would’ve been so easy in that fantasy, he was certain it, at the very least, wouldn't make him want to rip his heart out and give it to the Deliverer.

‘Love’. That was a peculiar concept in and of itself. Gorgo loved her son, she gave her life fighting for his dignity. Mydeimos loved his mother too, he avenged her death. But that was a different kind of love. Phainon was infuriating him, he wasn't a Kremnoan yet his prowess rivalled those of the kings. He was stupidly handsome and charming and people swarmed to him where they feared and despised Mydeimos - despite the king’s attempts at softening his image. He wasn’t a brute, but Okhemans had a hard time believing it. Phainon didn’t. He saw past the rough exterior immediately, saw him playing with children, cooking for and spending time with his people and knew he was soft at heart. Phainon carved a space for himself inside Mydeimos’ chest and the king cherished his place there, as scary as it was, and as much as he now hurt, knowing the distance between them, and not knowing whether they’d have a chance to meet in this life again.

Truth be told, Mydeimos didn't even know how much time had passed since he returned to Castrum Kremnos as its new god. The sky was forever dark and the only thing marking the passage of time was the slow and arduous restoration of the moving city-state done by one lonely god-king. Sometimes, a fleeting thought passed through Mydeimos’ mind that said he should've let his fellow Kremnoans come with him back into their homeland, just so he could have someone to open his mouth to. But that thought always passed as quickly as it appeared. His people were better off forging their new path, and not giving themselves into the cycle of violence of their ancestors. That was his burden to bear. The last Kremnoan king, and the new god of Strife - Mydeimos, son of Gorgo. Destined to warding off the evil plaguing their world, all on his own.

…

“Mydei?” That would've been the case, if only Phainon wasn't a puppy desperate for his attention and a stubborn fool refusing to quit.

[blueknight20]

Blood-Sucker part 2

CecilxReader!superhero

Word Count:2,855

T/W: Broken bones, constant mention of blood, torture kind of, body horror,

!! I'M SO SORRY IF I MISSED ANYMORE, PLEASE JUST LET ME KNOW, SOME MAY HAVE SLIPPED!!

!Note!: The start is heavily impaired by “all i need” on 3AM

Info: Reader is basically a vampire with slight blood manipulation power, that isn't helpfully against super humans. This is of course the second part to the last story I made and as you can tell I love angst and putting characters in pain, so yeah, hope you enjoy. Also let's pretend this makes sense timewise. 

Background: This is taking place during the invincible war . Reader and Cecil have been dating for a couple of years now and reader is a reformed villain.

You had left Cecil by himself and it seemed that the GDA’s communications were down so you knew it couldn’t hurt to get some help while saving civilians so made your way to the Guardians of the Glopes headquarters. You were flying there as fast as you could and you were almost there till you felt someone slam against your body, its arms wrapping around your body, bear hugging you from behind. You tried to stop your bodies from flying while also squirming out of their grip. Then you heard a voice yelling your ear as you were free falling 

“Holy shit, I know you from my universe ! My dad killed you with the original Guardians of the Globe, you’re the one that was kind of married to Cecil right ?!” You instantly knew the voice and turned your head to see Invincible or at least a version of him whose mask was missing glasses and before you could say anything, you felt your body hit the rock of the mountain, falling all the way down until you finally broke through and hit the floor of the Guardians of Globe headquarters. 

You were face down with blood spilling out of your mouth, you could already tell that your ribs were broken on impact. You saw the new guardians looking at you with shocked looks on their face, you were going to crawl towards them before you felt a foot on your back.

“INVINCIBLE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING ?!” Immortal yelled but he was swiftly ignored as Invincible started to talk to you

“And just where do you think you’re going” He took his foot off your back and grabbed you by the back of the neck, lifting you up like a trophy in front of everyone. “We were just having fu-” He was cut off by you kicking backwards into his leg, it didn’t seem to cause much damage but it was enough from him to drop you, allowing you to fall from his grip and run over to the guardians while he recollected himself but you could hear he was…laughing ?

“Dude I can’t believe you just did that when I was ready to give you a quick death.” He laughed out before looking serious “I’ll just make sure it’s slow and painfully, maybe if Cecil is still alive when I kill him I’ll let him know how loud you screamed ” He started to fly towards you until Immoral flew his way as well, punching him which made him stumble back and allow shapesmith to wrap himself around him.

There were a few moments while Invincible was struggling to get out his skin that allowed Black Sampson and Kate to make their way to you, holding either side of you while you were trying to breathe but it was hard to catch your breath while blood was slowly pouring out of your mouth. Darkwing was throwing explosives while also disappearing into the shadows and this repeated for a little before Invincible finally broke out Shapsmith’s skin, grabbing what you believed to be his torso and ripped him apart as he yelling out something along the lines of “NO, I DON’T WANT TO NOT BE LIVING” before dropping to the floor lifelessly. Kate then left you, thinking she could maybe try her cards at doing some damage and you could’ve swore all you did was blink when you were left on the steps of the HQ but you must’ve past out, seeing as when you opened your Black sampson was passed out clearly injured, multiple kate’s were dead on the floor, and Immortal was trying to keep up with mark. 

You forced yourself to get up and fly over to Mark, punched him repeatedly when you finally got there but he was still sitting with that creepy ass smile on his face, it was so discouraging. He grabbed your hand, moving it out the way before grabbing you by your neck, slamming you into the ground, before lifting you up, you tried to kick your way out of his grip again no matter how much it hurt your broken ribs but you watched his fish pull back before punching a hole in your stomach and there was a moment of silence followed but a small ringing in your ear. He pulled his hand out of your stomach and you could see your blood coated his hand. 

You didn’t think it went all the way through but from the way Immortal's face looked, maybe it did, you felt him let go of your neck but when your boots hit the floor that was covered in your blood you couldn’t catch yourself and ended up slipping into the puddle. Your body felt numb and what made it worse wasn’t the fact that you couldn’t breath but also the fact all you started to be able to make out was his ear piercing laugh, before you closed your eye’s for what was more lightly the last time, you saw immortal slam into the Invincible which at least let you die with a smirk on your face knowing that obnoxious laughing wouldn’t be the last thing you heard.

When you opened your eyes there was a breathing mask on your face and bright lights over you that were blinding. Your memories hit you causing you to jump up, ripping the mask off your face and slightly move backwards in the bed you were in, not stopping till your back hit the wall. You were looking around trying to get a sense of where you were while hyperventilating but quickly regraded all those quick movements you just made when you felt a shooting pain in your stomach causing you to grab it. You slowly started to relax when you saw Donald standing next to you with a concerned look on his face.

“What happened..? How am I still…alive..?” Your attention was drawn away as you looked around the room to see it was basically covered in flowers, to be more specific they were ��Dracula's kiss”, which weren’t your favorite but it was the flowers Cecil sent you whenever he was sorry for something, usually pairing them with a thoughtful note. You then realized it was Donald that was sitting in front of you and couldn’t help but ask “Am I dead” Which caused a worried look to take over is face and waved his arms to indicate ‘no’

“My goddess no, you're in the GDA’s hospital, after your encounter with an alternate Invincible, it seems we got there just in time, you stopped breathing but we were able to bring you back allowing us to fix the hole that was made in your stomach as well as of course fix your broken rips with the resources we had, you’d lost a lot of blood but we were able to keep your condition stable” You looked at the hundreds of flowers on your floor and pointed to them.

“Cecil ?” You knew Donald would understand what you were asking, he always did and although the two of you relationship was always platonic you were close, he’d help you plan surprises for Cecil and he was who you talked to whenever Cecil was busy in one of the meetings.

“After the disappearance of all the Invincibles, there was another Viltrumite attack, one stronger than we’ve ever seen, Cecil has had his hand full.” There was a hit of something in his voice but  you slowly nodded while looking down before you narrowed your eyes and looked up at the flowers again, what was he sorry for this time. You looked back up at Donald.

“But h-he’s been here right ? ” you breathed out, you saw Donald's hesitation to answer and chuckled a little before repeating yourself. “Donald..he came to see me, right ?”

“When I brought it up to him…he said that he just couldn’t and asked me to not bring it up again” You raised your eyebrows, trying now to blow up, you stayed quiet and pull the plugs in your arm out and standing up causing Donald to run over and allow you to put your weight onto him, you walked out of the room and made your way to Cecil’s office, opening the door yourself. The sudden sound must have caused him to look up from whatever he was writing on, you saw his eyes widen when he saw you and he stood up.

“What are you doing here ? You should be resting” Cecil stated simply 

“Yeah I really should be ” You made your way over to his desk, standing in front of it, staring at him. “Where the fuck were you ? I wake up after how long, Donald ?” You turned around asking him

“A week, ma’am” He stated quickly, causing you to turn back to Cecil.

“I was in a week-long coma and you can teleport to come see me at any time and you just can’t be bothered to?”

“I sent flowers and Donald to keep an eye on you.” You could tell he was annoyed and trying to de-escalate you, which just pissed you off more.

“WELL I’M NOT FUCKING DONALD OR THE FUCKING FLOWERS, I’M FUCKING YOU” You yelled, slamming your hand onto the talk, leaving an imprint of your hand on his table, you quickly realized you needed to calm down when you saw how scared they both looked or maybe they were surprised or maybe you just didn’t care, you let out a light chuckle. “Cecil, I almost fucking died and you weren’t there. I have always defended you and stuck in your corner when no one else did and they looked at you like you were crazy. I've risked my life for you more times than I can count on our hands combined. I’ve never pressured you into anything or rushed you into a commitment or relationship or even a fucking marriage. I never pressed you when you missed a date without saying anything, leaving me looking like an idiot because I truly believe that maybe you felt at least something towards me, you had to, we’ve been together for years.” When you were finally done you tried to search his face for anything, hoping that he would show you some type of remorse but he looked so unfazed by everything you said. You let out a chuckle in disbelief, putting a hand on your head. “God, I should’ve known..”

“We.will.talk.about.this.later” He started talking through his teeth, had this bossy authoritative tone, like you were some kid he was scolding but he sighed and calmly said. “I’m busy right now, go back to your hospital bed and we will talk later.” Cecil then sat back down in his chair and started signing papers again. You know you weren’t going to cry but you’d bring lying if you said his nonchalant attitude didn’t piss you off so bad you wanted to pull his head off but instead you said nothing, you held your head high, turn and walked out the door, you knew you weren’t going back to that hospital room fill the the brim with Cecil’s “I’m sorry I can’t visit you when you almost died just because even we are basically married ” flowers but you didn’t know where you go, the two of you were basically living together when he wasn’t sleeping at work. You could hear Donald's steps behind you, he was trying to catch up but all you really wanted to focus on was not having a panic attack. You put a hand on the wall of the hall to try and stabilize yourself and catch your breath, you saw Donald come around into your view, he went to help you stand but you put your hand up in a stop hand motion causing him to just look at you.

“I just have a headache and need some air, just please give me some space, thank you” You continued on your way to the elevator and pressed the button to go to the roof, when you stepped out of the elevator and the air hit your face, it felt so freeing, you took a seat on the side of the elevator outside structure, letting your head rest on the buildings wall. When you got there the sun was just starting to go down but by the time you heard the elevator ding and the door open, it was dark and there were stars in the sky. You looked over to see Cecil walk around the corner causing you to sigh. You knew he was stubborn and this sexy old man was going to tell you about how you’re acting like a child. He took a seat next to you and rested his head against the wall too , closing his eyes, letting out a sigh. You stayed like this for a bit until the anticipation of getting yelled at was too much.

“Don’t you have some scolding to do?” You looked over at him, expecting him to say something.

“I’m so sorry, I was wrong” came out of Cecil’s mouth causing you to immediately sit up which caused a sharp pain to hit in your stomach which made you suck in air which also made Cecil sit up, grabbing your shoulder, “Be careful.”

“What did you say to me just now ?!” Your eyebrows were raised and you had a slight smile. He sighed seeing how it was important to you. 

“I was just scared I was going to lose you.” You immediately were about to say something but you were interrupted “Just stop…I just need you to know that I care about you. I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit you…I’ve never felt so fucking helpless, and now you’re sitting here having to heal from my mistake, I should have prepared better..I should been able to protect you better and I..” He stopped himself, moving the hand on your shoulder before rubbing it hand on his head and let out a humorless chuckle like he couldn’t believe himself  “..I’ve never been a man for many words but I do care for you and I need you to know that.”

You were completely speechless, this had been the most romantic thing he’d said in the whole time you've known with each other. You hand touched his cheek and you felt him lean into it, you pressed your lips against him, slowly opening your mouth and he followed your lead putting a hand on the back of your neck. You slowly laid back into the roof’s floor, allowing Cecil to hover over you settling in between your legs, the kiss not breaking, you could tell he was trying not to hurt you which was funny, he treated you like you were fragile and could break at any second which was very much the opposite, if you even pushed him too hard you could break a bone. 

The kiss continued for a while, you felt Cecil’s hand wrap around your waist then he pulled away for air, both of you slightly panting while making eye contact with each other. Cecil knew two of you couldn't, at least not right now, you were still healing from wounds and having sex wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do at the moment no matter how much he really wanted to especially with your mouth slightly open basically urging him to keep going and your glossy, barely open eyes basically begging him to just fuck you on this roof. He knew couldn’t just yet, that's what he kept telling himself in his head, which was cut off by Donald coming on his earpiece.

“Sir, y/n is needed in her room for tests” You could hear him since Cecil if you were so close to each other, he gave a quick, “Okay” for getting up and helping you up. The both of you made your way back to your room, did a bunch of test which in your option was completely useless, they were acting like your were going to burst at the seems, truly it was fucking annoying, it was made better by the fact that Cecil stayed by your side for everything and when it was finally over you were able to lay down in your hospital bed, you looked to Cecil who was standing next to your bed, looking down at you.

“Come lay with me..” He had a look that told you he was more than likely weighing the pros and cons, the responsibilities that came with him taking a quick hour nap with you. He had made up his mind, taking his place next to you as you both squeezed into the bed, acting as if this twin bed was really supposed to fit two grown adults. He laid on his back which allowed you to rest your head on his chest, wrapping a hand on his stomach, while he wrapped his arm under your neck and hand on your waist. You’d think after a week long coma you’d be well rested but fuck you were exhausted and before anyone knew it, the two of you were knocked out.

Author note: I kind of hate this but idk, I didn’t want reader to seem too pathetic or weak or for Cecil to seems out of character but it’s so hard when we don’t really see him with people he loves other than Donald. I got to where reader wakes up and my mind went blank. But I have “prequel thing” of mostly office dates in a google doc plus when they first got together that I was thing of posting since both these parts didn't have smut . But I was planning on writing something with an Invincible x Spiderman inspired reader just because I think that’s such a cute idea and I read about it in someone else’s fanfic that I’ll credit if I ever go through with it or maybe Invincible x Zatanna inspired reader.

[trekmupf]

Kirk starring in The Pacifier 🧬🧒 💉

Pro

Love how McCoy hangs out on the bridge for no reason, again

McCoy, old timey architecture enthusiast

McCoy and Spock get to interact so much during this!

Kirk's way of dealing with the kids has such a range this episode – we go from softly and nicely interacting with Miri to literally yanking a child off a table after desperately yelling nonsense

Pointing out separately how Kirk is beat up by a bunch of children

Spock famously sniffing and almost nibbling the documents

Spock being helpless and having to deal with the possibility of his friends dying and him staying behind; also further insight in his unique position due to his heritage

McCoy also feeling helpless – and giving us insight into his character: being scared of succumbing to the illness and hurting others, trying to safe not only his friends but a bunch of children, the stress of the time constraint and him doing the logical thing in the end and testing the vaccine on himself as soon as Spock is out of sight so no one can stop him

Also him shouting for Spock immediately

Spock leaning over him is a great moment for all the shippers out there (me)

Also extra point for McCoy looking beautiful while lying unconsciously on the floor (a trend that picks up in S3)

the deterioration of sanity in the adults is actually terrifying and adds to the tension

the basic idea for the plot (a virus that kills adult and leaves a planet full of almost immortal children and stranding out characters there)

creepy atmosphere, especially in the beginning with the children's voices

Generally the tension early in the episode is held up by not knowing what's going on, then gains speed because we know exactly what's going on

great set design underlining the creepy narrative and feeling of being lost without help

Another narrative about the dangers of pursuing immortality / long-levity which ends up in great tragedy

Also This episode analysis by @trek-tracks is amazing. Major galaxy brain energy.(who doesn't love our boys suffering juuust a little bit more)

Con

The casting of Jahn is just. Not great. I know why they had to put in a „leader“ but he gets too much screentime, is everything I hate about children characters and he annoys me.

The children's group scenes are exhausting

The childrens "language", even though it makes sense and is technically a nice touch, gets old real fast

The combination of that makes parts of the episode feel almost silly (in a not good way) and are hard to watch

Even though it's sort of realistic considering Miri's narrative the jealousy plot with Yeoman Rand is unnecessary. It takes away time that could've been used to explore better themes in the episode and plays the only two female characters of the episode against each other

I wish Yeoman Rand would have more to do to do than "make Miri jealous and be scared"

after the episode takes a long time to get to certain points the ending feels very sudden

I know it looks like so many more Pro points but I love some of the characterwork, and the points that are bad are SO BAD.

Counter:

Kirk shirt-rip

One of the trio being ready to sacrifice himself (McCoy)

Quote: „And I do want to go back to the ship, captain“ - Spock Honorary: That Look Bones and Spock share when Kirk asks them to „simply create a vaccine“ Moment: McCoy being immediately ready to sacrifice himself and the dynamic surrounding that

Extra shot of beautiful McCoy with Spock gently holding his face

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[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

It Fucks with me that straight up

Purgatory hall, the new characters and basically people in Mc//ourlives don’t know what Belphie did in chapter 16 and esp in Nightbringer, like we 100% habe trauma and like straight up makes me wanna write angst but I’m Shitty with it and always fuck it up

So I’m just….gonna ramble under cut about it? //spoilers for both games I suppose!

-

So to start, there’s several instances of the brothers (and in one occasion Barbatos and Diavolo separately) get aggressive towards reader and I like imagine they must have some kinda PTSD since they’ve literally died and honestly I self project and I act nothing like Mc…I’d be in fucking tears miserable over the fact I just got warped in the past without anyone but my mentor

Like I cant see my family, friends or PETS for who knows how long???

Just imagine how it would feel….

You’re already living in a worn down old building since the moment you’ve arrived in the past, where else can you go?? The brothers aren’t friendly, you have not a cent to your name, just what’s on your person the second you’re dropped off and left. You WANT to think things will be ok, Solomon is here to help you so at least you’re not alone but…

You will die eventually, what if this takes too long, and you die here? Will anyone from your timeline ever find out?

Would you family know? Your friends?

Solomon keeps reassuring you that it’s fine, but he’s a sorcerer who’s immune to everything…his own stupidity gave him immortality…maybe if you’re unlucky enough he’d make you immortal and you’d…wait till you could see the brothers ‘normally’ again. Well them and everyone else.

As time goes on you ultimately are forced to continue to try to re friend them. Solomon is equal parts helpful as he is a problem, but it all seems to work out.

Until they find out your human. Why does it matter? You never said you were a demon! You TOLD THEM YOU WERE HUMAN. They laughed it off…why is it your fault…your not like them?

Belphegore was the aggressor, just like before. You don’t know if he was going to hurt you and you didn’t want to find out. You saw his hand reaching towards you, almost like they were going for your throat…

Again…

“Not again!”

You screamed as you collapsed on the ground, hand instinctively going to protect your neck. You’re gasping for air even though you haven’t been touched yet, you’re terrified. Is this really it? Is he really going to kill you again? Did you really think…this would end well, Solomon? Diavolo? Barbatos?…Anyone?

Now you are where you are, trembling and in tears on the ground. But you didn’t feel anyone grab you, you did however feel like someone walked in front of you. To your relief, Solomon had come to your rescue…

You wanted to appreciate it, but all you wanted to do was go home now.

You let out a broken sob, you honestly didn’t care anymore if they saw you like this. You have been through hell and back for these idiots and yet, you still love them so much, so much so that all you want to do is see them again, but the version of them you know.

You love them, they are worth it, but why do you have to suffer for it? Your time in the human world after Devildom…nothing bad happened…maybe…you’re the problem?

With your mind spiraling, you don’t even hear everyone shouting, you don’t hear your name, you don’t hear who says it.

All you can do is cry and hope whoever sent you here shows mercy and let’s you go home.

(Ok now it’s done sorry)

[charmwasjess]

Hi Jess! I have been reading the Darth Plagueis book, wherein he says that to get a true Sith, you can’t just corrupt a Jedi, you have to go a lot further… as much as Dooku was the right hand man of Palpatine, I think he was a lot less “true Sith Lord” and a lot more “fallen Jedi”… thoughts?

P.S. what do you think would’ve happened if Obi-Wan and Dooku joined forces? I’m not sure if you have written about them yet 

Always good to hear from you, bud! :D What a fantastic question!

I’ll start off by pointing out that Sidious, who as The Big Sith Master is the only dude who gets to say who is or isn’t a Sith, seems to consider him one, in an official capacity. But I TOTALLY see what you’re saying, and I tend to agree with you (and with Plagueis!) I think Dooku’s storytelling role, his identity in the saga, is that of a fallen Jedi, not characterizing the typical qualities in a Sith Lord. He might be officially a Sith, but narratively, it almost doesn’t matter. 

You know, it’s Dooku: Jedi Lost, not Dooku: Sith Rising. There’s no denying that Dooku is an unconventional Sith, to say the least. He only flashes Sith eyes once. He still uses his Jedi lightsaber form - a lightsaber form which is all about disarming, not deathblows. He has a notoriously difficult time killing, and seems to put off important kills out of blatant sentimentality, or get someone else to do them, often halfheartedly. On the sliding scale from “moments where he visibly looks miserable” in Clone Wars to some of the Legends novels where Dooku as a POV character outright describes his own life in excruciating terms full of regret and desperation, we as viewers are to understand that Dooku’s decision is the ultimate sunk-cost fallacy, one he pays for again and again. A miserable dance that concludes on his knees with that very expressive final look at Sidious. We see that he has wagered wrongly, and more, in that moment, that he finally knows it – just as much as we do. 

And of course, there are plenty of reasons for the conflict in the character  - everything from his motivations of corrupted idealism to the simple fact of old habits. I mean, Anakin spent 23 years as Vader as opposed to 14 years in the Order; Dooku, a mere 13 years as Tyranus, with a 60 year Jedi career hardcoded into his body.

But I think it’s more than just how Dooku feels about his identity as a Sith. Some of it is surely how Sidious treats him. 

To Sidious, Dooku is a servant and a patsy, a stopgap solution to his Maul -> Anakin apprentice problem, and certainly not ever as an heir to his and Plagueis’s Sith line. He is not training Dooku to carry on the legacy and knowledge of the Sith after he’s gone. (It’s arguable that Sidious doesn’t think anyone will NEED to carry it on, as he himself will be immortal.) Still, it’s not hard to see that Sidious does not have a lot of motivation or time to thoroughly sithize Dooku or give him an equal stake. Dooku himself behaves unreliably, is resentful and argumentative, can’t stop collecting minions, and plotting to overthrow his Master seems to be the one part of being a Sith that Dooku actually enjoys. He’s a liability to Sidious- and teaching him more Sith lore and powers just makes him more of a threat. 

Dooku himself articulates it well, so I'll give the last word to him. Here he is talking about what it’s like to be a Sith apprentice from Yoda: Dark Rendezvous: