#a bit too young to remember the place properly unfortunately

[scrollingfan]

Testing an artsyle on the Kamado siblings

[an0nymousmessenger]

A Thousand Wishes Unheard

Synopsis: You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru. Word Count: 9.06k tags. fluff, angst, hurt no comfort ( a little bit if you squint ) note: A bit rushed. The copium is real. Ao3 Link Part 2.

You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru.

You’ve always known Gojo Satoru. Who doesn’t? He was the strongest. He was the holder of the six eyes, master of limitless, the one that went against the King of Curses. He was your classmate. He was your friend. He was arrogant. He was condescending. He was loud. He was careful. He was kind. He was–

Gojo Satoru was a lot of things. Sometimes he was cocky, and other times he was annoying, and well– you suppose despite that, in the little crevices of your memories, he was…alright. As to you, he was just Satoru.

You remember the day you first met him, the memory was clear, and oh so very blue. You had walked past him underneath the school’s Torii gates, the one with many short stone pillars that lined up to the school. It had been a clear day, one of the clearest it had been during the season of summer.

He had been walking with Shoko and Suguru when you first made eye contact. You paid him little to no attention, too occupied with your hair not falling correctly in the right place. It was your first time attending Jujustu Tech and you were curious– excited, and a bit nervous.

You had been born with your clan’s technique, and thus here you were, sent off to attend a school to train and raise you to hone those abilities. Although the path here wasn’t easy, you still made it.

However, this story is for another time…This story…it wasn’t about you...well- it was sort of. It was mainly about him. The boy that you had walked past under the clear blue sky, not even noticing him properly. It was about the boy that you had no idea you would one day spend so much time with.

Little did you know after that short meeting under the stone gate that you would see him again not long after when you walked into your first class. He was leaning in his chair and about to fall off.

He really did fall off when you opened the door.

Back then you were both first years. Young, naive, and free. You would find yourself spending a lot of time with your new classmates, training, talking, going on missions, and small getaways.

Your secret little adventures away from the world of curses.

That summer was one that you couldn’t forget even if you tried.

It was one of the rare collections of memories that you held close, the one where you got to see a side of Gojo Satoru’s youth.

“Yo~!”

A loud and obnoxious voice came from behind, telling you exactly who had been the first one to arrive back at the beach.

Unfortunately for you, it just had to be the annoying white-haired teen of the group.

“Guess what!”

“...What?” You replied a bit late while letting out a long tired sigh. 

It had been a long day, and although a few moments before you had hoped the others would hurry it up, now you wished that you could have gotten a few more moments alone to spend watching the setting sun fall beneath the waves.

“Oh c’mon! Guess!”

You could already feel a headache coming up.

Just as you were about to turn your head around and give Satoru a wack on the back of his legs, hoping to trip him with your hand, he bent down to your eye level, meeting your deadpanned gaze.

He put on his iconic pouting face, “Can’t turn around, that’s cheating!”

You couldn’t help but let out an amused snort, “As if that’s above you.”

He grinned, “Are you suggesting I’m a cheater?”

“The very worst,” you nodded.

He did a dramatic fainting gesture to his heart while putting on his best look of surprise and betrayal before gasping aloud, “Me!? Cheat?”

He leaned backward, “How so? How could you think so low of m-“

He was about to continue his nonsensical rant but you had cut him short with a quick jap to his sides.

In the end, you had managed to figure out that he was the one who had brought the firecrackers. Of course, you thought. Though you weren’t exactly sure how he managed to come into possession of them. Satoru with firecrackers was like giving a baby a chainsaw.

Okay, maybe not that bad, but still– the image was still there.

Perhaps he had managed to slip by Suguru’s watchful gaze when they were unloading stuff from the van.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when you heard the sound of tearing.

Looking next to you to where the white-haired gremlin was, you saw that he was already opening the box of firecrackers.

“Not going to wait for Suguru and Shoko?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nah, It’s not like I’m going to burn through all of them, don’t worry about it!.”

You mutter something like ‘overgrown child’ under your breath as you watch him continue to tear and rip the package apart like a rabid animal.

Though, you knew it was because he was probably really ecstatic at the prospect of a little firework display at the tip of your fingertips. You could tell from the light in his eyes that shined brightly that you managed to glimpse from the side of his glasses.

You held back a laugh, remembering you and Suguru describing what a firecracker to Satoru was earlier when you suggested bringing them out when the sunset as you had packed them the night before.

The shock and look on his face was something that was hard to forget. Being from one of the three top clans he was spoiled, that was a given. But even with that, it came to you as a shock that he had never been able to play with a firecracker.

Though after some thought you thought it did make sense. The elders may have thought it was dangerous, and Satoru being the wielder of those rare eyes after a few hundred years…well it was self-explanatory when you put it like that.

Eventually, he managed to get two out. 

‘Like hell, he won’t burn through all of them before they get here,’ you mentally comment, but making no sound or move to stop him. You continue to keep your eye on him.

Just so he doesn’t commit arson– of course.

He held out the long stick before lighting the two of them with his lighter.

Instantly the firecracker came to life, bustling and crackling with little mini explosions. It lit up the surrounding area to a small degree now that the sun had set to some degree, illuminating Satoru’s smiling face. 

“Hello? Earth to his highness?” You ask with a light amused tone as you watch him, entranced by the mini light show.

Bringing him back to earth with your words and that nickname that you and Shoko would sometimes call him from how large his ego was, he tore his eyes away from the small firework display to finally look at you.

“Ah! Can’t forget this, can I?” Just as you were about to ask what he meant by that he suddenly offered you his other firecracker with a bright smile.

Satoru has always had a pretty smile. You had noticed that very soon into the time you got to know him. It was bright and contagious. His energy was contagious.

And that light somehow made that smile brighter, and possibly even more unearthly. Though you would never admit it aloud. 

A little taken aback, you held out your hand nonetheless and grabbed ahold of the firecracker he was passing to you.

Your hands brushed, if only barely before he retracted them, going back to stare at his own firecracker with that childlike amazement.

You sat there in confusion as you looked at him, unable to take your eyes away, your hands still outstretched, holding onto the firecracker.

It was only after the firecracker was almost ⅖ of the way done that you finally came to your senses and retracted your aching arm.

You brought the mini firework show closer to you, but not too close to get harmed. 

The tiny explosions were nice to pretty, you supposed.

You smiled. It was a small but noticeable smile. It was most likely then that you decided Satoru wasn’t so bad…not really, anyway. He was okay…you supposed.

Little did you know that that moment soon became one of your most hidden and treasured memories, kept away behind locked doors and secrets. A memory that you will always hold close, a priceless thing.

It was the first of many times that you wished that moment had lasted just a little longer.

You were too lost in your own thought that you failed to notice sometime later– before the firecrackers died and Shoko and Suguru had arrived and brought the snacks, and before talked late into the night underneath the watchful gaze of the stars while lighting more firecrackers, so many in fact, that someone had noticed them and kicked them out. 

Before they were all on the way back to Jujustu Tech in the van with Suguru driving and Shoko playing the music, as Satoru had his head against the window, occasionally bumping against the glass with a few bumps in the road, and with you tapping a soft tune as you looked out the window at the scenery.

Before all that, he– instead of staring at his firecracker, had instead focused his eyes on you at that moment.

It wasn’t anything drastic, but a slight tilt of the head, a slight breathless intake of breath. He focused, not on the mini lights to call for his attention, but on the way your hair flew with the slight breeze, your small but delicate smile that Satoru had sometimes caught you wearing. The small smile that showcased your dimples, the way your eyes softened as you looked at the tiny fireworks display in front of you.

The sun had almost completely set behind the raging waves, and with that allowed the light to softly hit your face, and to him…at that moment you seem to appear otherworldly.

Perhaps it was then that Satoru…

Whatever he wanted to say then was muffled out by the seaside wind.

Gojo Satoru was not always the strongest. Sure, he had been born with the limitless technique as well as the legendary six eyes, but despite that– there was a period where he was still Satoru. Just Satoru. Not some strongest sorcerer of the century or what-not. 

Yet ever since that day– that year– that summer. That blue spring changed everything. Ever since that day Gojo Satoru has been known as the strongest. It was official, there was no doubt. 

It was then that the line that you were now so familiar with was drawn between Gojo Satoru and others. Others such as you.

It was then that almost every moment after felt as if you weren’t really with Satoru, no…not really. Despite talking to him, hanging out with him, hell– even laughing with him…it felt as if something was missing.

As you weren’t really talking with Satoru. You were talking with Gojo Satoru. It was as if even though he was right next to you, when you reach out a hand he was suddenly miles and miles away.

Because that was who he was. Untouchable. The strongest.

Years past…just like that. Through those years you had grown into a fine sorcerer. You were capable, and strong in your own league. Grade 1, and later in your late 20s you would be promoted to semi-grade-1. 

You trained and trained; you wanted to forget, wanted to better yourself so that what happened that summer wouldn’t happen again. And so you eventually made it, you surpassed your limits and grew as a sorcerer, as a person, and eventually became an author in your off time. 

Before coming to Jujustu Tech you were always fond of writing. It was an escape and something that easily passed the time.

A few of your works even blew up, earning you a little extra cash. Not that you needed any, being a sorcerer provided you with enough income.

Though you still kept on writing. It wasn’t for the money, but for the story, you could create. 

Although you would never admit it, in many of your famous published works, the characters in your novels were often based on the people in your life.

Which is why you never brought it up.

It had little to do with the fact that one of your most popular and well-liked character who is loved by all of your readers being based on some annoying white-haired man. 

It had been an accident. Really!

But you were ready to shoot yourself if your friends ever found out.

Well…it wasn’t like that man, the person you prayed about every day for him to never come across that book, was likely to find out.

As the lot of you grew older and older you also grew distant.

Shoko became a doctor and was mostly too occupied in her laboratory at Jujustu Tech while Utahime, Nanami, who you were glad to rejoin the Jujustu World, and Gojo… were all busy with their missions halfway across the world. You were too, so it was only natural.

You made attempts to get them together again– just to hang out, like old times. But it almost never worked out, everyone was too busy…and on the off chances that a few of them managed to make time, Gojo was never there.

The strongest…that word felt bitter on your tongue. It felt like that was preventing you from seeing your friend again. A friend that you had missed.

Yet there were still those moments, those rare moments where you were able to cross that line and reach him– if only barely. Those little accidents where you manage to slip by.

You remember a few of them, but there was always one that stood out.

It had been a long time since that summer, but you remember finishing up a rather easy mission earlier than expected, so you decided to find a place to relax.

It was a few minutes later that you found yourself on top of one of the Jujustu Tech buildings, lying on the roof as you enjoyed the feeling of the sun against your skin.

Though your break was very short-lasted as you felt a presence, a very familiar presence, join you not a moment after. It had been quite a surprise, but all the same, a welcomed one.

Closing your eyes you breathed in the fall air. Autumn was here, and in your wholehearted opinion, the best season by far. The temperature was just right, not too cold nor hot, the leaves were turning beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow, and everywhere smelled pleasant.

You felt yourself relax as you pressed yourself against the roof, enjoying your little moment of freedom that you found.

But eventually, you spoke up, as if to the air around you, but you knew better. Even if your eyes didn’t tell you, his scent did. It was recognizable anywhere, and if his scent didn’t, then your ears would, and even if that didn’t work, your soul could.

“If you’re here, might as well join me down here, won’t you?” 

You peek through one of your eyelids, looking past the hair that had been blown onto your face. 

Right past that there he was, the man in all of his glory, the cocky and annoying bastard.

He stood behind your head, a little higher on the part where the roof was raised, leaning down with his hands in his pocket, a little bag at his side, and peering at your unimpressed expression with a grin.

“Now, now, I didn’t think you were the type to–”

You raised your hand, threatening to wack his lanky ankles, which would cause him to lose balance and make him fall off the roof. 

But you knew you couldn’t, nothing could get past that infinity of his. But it still held the same effect after all these years as he raised both of his arms in surrender, sighing like a child as he made himself a spot next to you.

You noticed he didn’t wear his blindfold or glasses today. It somehow made him look bare. You suppose you just weren’t used to it…not having seen him without one for a very long time.

You two didn’t speak for a while, and you were afraid, not that you wanted to admit it, but just a little bit that he would leave too soon, and so you started to talk.

“Fancy seeing you here, weren’t you assigned a mission across the world in the Americas a few days ago?”

He replied back with his smug and cocky tone, coupled with that shit-eating grin, the one that he still had despite all these years, “Why? Did you miss me that badly?”

“No,” was your flat-out response.

You’ve grown used to his absence.

But did you really?

“Ouch. Come on! Shouldn’t you be happy I’m back early for once?” He whined. Somehow when it was just the two of you alone he always put on that same overgrown child act.

Not that you complained.

He hummed in fake contemplation, “Hmm. Should I tell you? It’s supposed to be a secret~ a huge one! I’ll probably get in big trouble.”

As if he’s ever been scared of the higher-ups.

You hold back an eye roll as you mutter, “On second thought— I don’t think I’m all that interested anymore.”

You were used to his antics, his usual method of craving for sympathy.

“Well,” he chuckled, “Now I’ve got to tell you, don’t I?”

“...I don’t care.” You say, biting back a tired sigh. You seem to do that a lot in his presence.

“Precisely! Since you don’t want to hear it, then now I’ve got to tell you!”

Great.

He leaned back, his hands behind his head as he began to explain his early return, “Turns out the case wasn’t as bad as the higher-ups thought it was, a misunderstanding. The curse was pretty easy to deal with, of course, it was mainly because I was there.”

Uh-huh.

You rolled your eyes.

He took a breath before continuing, “And so, I finished the mission, bought a couple of souvenirs, and decided to come back early. I figured since I had some free time on my hands I would come and visit.”

To you. To come and visit you.

“How thoughtful of you,” you remark lazily as you follow the clouds slow drift.

“Aren’t I?” He replied sitting up and grinning down at you, “So you’ve noticed!”

This guy–

Just as you were about to smack him he continued- almost hurriedly.

“I even bought you some souvenirs!” He gave you a quick glance at your unconvincing expression and added seriously, “Really! I’m being for real.”

Now that only made you more suspicious, “Did you break something of mine?”

He supports himself up with his arm, “Whaaat? What brings you to say that?”

You scrutinize him further, checking for any signs of potential an apology gift-ing face, “For all the reasons there are.” 

He rarely brings you anything, rather keeping them to himself. Though, the majority of the reason for why that is, is because all he ever buys is sweets. Now, you may appreciate having a few every so often, but the problem is the ones he buys are always…too sweet.

So, this was suspicious, to say the least. He must be trying to make up for something.

“And…because you’re you,” You decide to add.

He smiles down at you as with his other free arm lifts the gift bag from earlier, a child-like excitement showing on his face, announcing, “Specialties from the Americas!”

You look at his bag with some curiosity, and a part of you did wonder what foods from another country would taste like. 

You decided you would forgive Satoru this time…and perhaps even a little thankful.

However, that thankful feeling for his consideration soon disappeared, as fast as how fast a paper would burn when being thrown into a burning building.

“Fucking shit! Water! Water!!” You yelled as you wrenched the water bottle Satoru handed you with his shaking hands as he was too busy holding in his laughter, watching as you chugged it almost whole in one go.

Your yells echoed off the rooftop and were so loud the whole campus could probably hear you. It was actually because of this that later it was the reason Principle Yaga had found the both of you and kicked you guys out for the rest of the afternoon. 

The water didn’t help much, if at all. The burning sensation in your throat only continued to sting, a stubborn feeling that wouldn’t go away no matter how much water you downed.

You gasped roughly as if you were fighting for air, “What…the…hell…Satoru!?”

Satoru, the perpetrator, the man of all your current problems, sat next to you uncontrollably shaking, desperately trying to keep in his laughter.

He managed to calm himself down, smiling to himself as he dug into his bag for something else, “Ah! My bad! I must’ve given you the wrong thing!” 

“You're bad!? The wrong thing!?” You shout in disbelief.

You could not believe this man. He knew you couldn’t handle spice and yet he still–!

“This is the one! Here, catch,” he said as he tossed something that looked like another typical piece of sweets into the air. 

You caught it with ease, and brought it up close for closer inspection; forcing yourself to ignore the stinging that threatened to make tears spill, you checked the labels and ingredients this time more carefully.

You made a mental note to work on your English skills. Perhaps you could ask Nananmi sometime down the line.

You looked at the packaging before looking up at Satoru with a suspicious gaze.

“What is this,” you demanded, eyeing the manchild sorcerer.

He grinned, “Find out.”

“I’ll pass,” you replied, raising your arm and about to toss the candy over the rooftop when Satoru shouted, 

“Hey hey! Don’t toss that!”

You spare him an untrusting glance.

“Don’t you know those are expensive!?”

You laugh at his words, “Are you telling me the Gojo Satoru can’t afford a few more of these sweets?”

Knowing Gojo, he was probably one of the richest people in the country…sorcerer-wise anyway. Actually– scratch that. With how much his clan has, with him being the head, he probably is the richest. 

“They’re from another country! It’s a different kind of expensive!” He retorted, crossing his arms defensively and in disbelief at your daring to question his wallet.

You relent, biting back a comment on how he could probably warp there in no time to buy a few more, you bring the candy back down from the air.

The package is clutched tightly in your hands, and if it had a consciousness it would probably be shaking in fear from the intensity of your gaze.

“You promise these aren’t spicy?” You ask him, still deciding not to trust whatever answer falls from his mouth.

“When I ate them they were very sweet.”

You continued to give him a suspicious look. 

“Pinky swear,” he reaffirmed, even going all out as to holding out his pinky.

You stare at him, unimpressed.

“What! It’s the strongest bond in the world.”

“Is it now?” You ask with amusement.

He nodded enthusiastically, “A promise from the strongest, so don’t worry about it.”

A promise from him. 

You rolled your eyes, deciding to comment, “How childish,” and ignore him. 

He sighed dejectedly before looking back up, waiting for you to taste-test the foreign candy.

You slowly unwrap it, before bringing it up to your mouth. Sparing Satoru one more look, you push the candy past your lips and into your mouth.

Your eyes light up. It was…sweet. He wasn’t lying. The candy seemed to dissolve on your tongue and had this light feeling.

It…wasn’t bad.

“It’s sweet, right?” Satoru perked up.

“Yeah– it is…” You answer through the sweetness. You think that if Satoru himself could be a candy it would probably be this one.

“Told you.”

You give him a look that suggested, really? You watch him as he unwarps a different kind of candy before popping it into his mouth.

It was alright…at least he had some sort of skill for picking sweets…

…

You eventually (not too soon after) take that back.

Even though it was sweet at first, the outer layer of the candy soon dissolved and all too soon a flaming sensation filled your lungs again.

Spitting the candy out immediately you find your bottle of water from earlier, downing the rest of it this time before tossing the empty water bottle with all your might (and a little bit of cursed energy) at your now currently laughing backstabber.

He brought his head back as he laughed at your current state. The water bottle bounced off his head with a small thwack, too busy laughing to notice his infinity was off.

Was it intentional? Or was he just so used…to you?

Apparently, the sight of you fanning your mouth and trying whatever antics could help rid you of the prickling sensation now that you have no more water was something he deemed comedy gold. He fell back onto the roof and continued laughing at your misery with even tears appearing.

He tried to say something that resembled barely a sentence before dissolving back into a fit of uncontrolled laughter.

You on the other hand were too busy suffering to notice what the blindfolded man had said and instead focused on how to get rid of this burning feeling of scratching and stinging in your mouth.

That- stupid– bastard!

You should’ve known better! That blindfolded cheating cheater! Yes, you said used the word twice, because that’s exactly what he was!

Yet you weren’t too last in your own misery to notice a rare sight in front of you. He was…smiling. Satoru Gojo was smiling and laughing.

Instead of his now infamous grin, there it was– that pretty smile that often adorned his face back during the times of his youth. That smile that you thought you had lost.

The sun naturally lit up his skin, bright and clear, applying an almost angelic beauty to him.

And his laugh, you could tell this one was a real one, a real laugh. Not the ones he would do for the act, nor the ones where he did it because the situation called for it.

No…this was the real thing.

A laugh just for you.

You almost pulled out your phone to snap a picture but that was when the spice had just gotten too much, and way too out of hand.

Instead, you sigh to yourself, “Blindfolded cheater…”

As you looked at him you found yourself laughing along. It was nice, you thought. Almost like nothing had changed, almost like it was still the same. It was…nice.

You and Satoru spent the rest of the evening up on the rooftop, occasionally popping another candy into your mouths, and this time you made sure to only eat the ones you knew were safe. 

It was only a little while later when the sun had started hiding behind the trees that Satoru suddenly spoke up,

“I’m going to kill the higher-ups.”

Okay. That was a little out of nowhere.

“Oh?”

You could hear the smug and determined tone in his response, “Yeah, I’m going to tear down this messed up system.”

You don’t respond.

He lifts himself up to lean down to look at you, allowing you to see his vibrant and unearthly blue eyes in such detail as his hair fell downwards, almost touching your face as it blew with the wind. 

It was a bit ticklish.

If those eyes didn't hold heaven, you questioned its very existence.

“I’m being serious. I’m going to do it.” 

His expression and tone he had used in his voice already told you this much, and you knew that he had always hated the system. And you understood where it came from. Hell– you even hate the system.

But you knew Satoru was adamant about it, about preserving the youth of others that he himself had been stripped from.

That blue spring.

And because you knew this, you broke out into a small smile and answered in a very quiet voice, “I know. I know you will.”

He grinned, falling back onto his back, seemly satisfied as he set his gaze back up at the evening sky, decorated with purple and orange tones.

“You believe me?”

“Yeah, I do.”

How could you not believe him?

“Well,” he said, “Now I definitely will with your support.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to do it anyway?” You ask, raising a brow, but unable to keep the smile out of your tone.

“Yeah! I did! And I am. But now that I know you have my back I know for sure that I will.”

You snort at his words, knowing that your words alone would have made little effort in his pursuit, but you couldn’t help but entertain the idea anyway.

Peering to the side to look at Satoru, he wore a content smile, illuminated by the setting sun that made his hair almost glow, you find yourself pulling out your phone.

A little longer in this moment wouldn’t have hurt.

You still managed to take a photo.

It was the photo that would become the wallpaper on your phone. Mainly because Satoru had been going through it one day and found it, deciding to set it to your phone screen.

Now whenever you open your phone screen you’re reminded of that day. You think it was the last time you heard him laugh, smile that wide, and truly talk to you about him, and so you’ll treasure it close to your heart as well.

Was it too selfish to wish to see that smile again?

With that photo it was like that moment was forefeet frozen in time, the way his hair was swept up by the wind while his smile was wide and carefree. His eyes even seemed to glow even more heavenly.

If one were to ask you who Satoru Gojo was to you…you probably would have just shown them this picture. But alas you were also selfish, and so you think you’ll keep this one to yourself.

Just this one.

Time passed again.

It was around this time that your worst nightmare had come true.

This time, you heard he had become a teacher. A teacher. If you hadn’t seen it for yourself you wouldn’t have believed it.

Yuta, Maki, Panda, and Inumaki. 

They were bright and talented students, and you grew a bit fond of them. They reminded you of when you were once a student, once like them.

But why did it have to end that way?

You often found yourself in your free time helping them train and work on their combat technique. It was to the point where others would wonder who was the teacher, Gojo or you?

But you didn’t really complain, not really. You enjoyed working with them, seeing them improve, and watching them grow.

“Yuta, lower your arms by a few degrees when parrying against that, it’ll help with flowing you into another the next movement.”

Yuta nodded, readjusting her grip on his weapon as he returned back into the first stance.

“I’m ready to go again,” Yuta said.

You nod, smiling at the young boy’s determination while his friends gave him encouragement from the sides.

Yuta took a step back, his sole digging into the ground before he disappeared from view.

Only seconds later did he reappear, his katana clashing with yours.

Clang–!

He pushed off against your weapon, landing just a few feet away.

“Nice one! Again!” You call as you ready your stance once more.

You block and parry each of his attacks, letting sparks fly each time metal met metal. It was after a few times that you finally decided to go on the attack.

Pushing against the ground you flew toward’s Yuta from the side, aiming at his shoulder, only to feint last second and go for legs. To your expectations, your attack was met with his blade; a perfectly executed counter.

You step again, making your movements flow into the next attack, the head, the chest, and legs, every attack was met with a sword similar to yours.

What a scary kid, you thought, proud of his fast adaptation abilities to your attacks.

You were just about to sidestep and swing again when you heard a voice calling out your name.

“Hey! What are you guys up to without me?”

You and Yuta immediately pause mid-attack. 

You felt your shoulders sag a bit as you sighed deeply, bringing your weapon back to your side, and wiping the sweat off your face with your uniform; then turning to meet the person who had just interrupted your spar, though you already knew who it was.

“Seems like his highness was a bit busy today, don’t you think? Not showing up for your own class?” 

Satoru only shrugged as he continued to make his way down the stairs and towards you and his students, his bandages on and his hair looking like the usual porcupine. Though it did nothing to hinder his appearance.

“There’s no problem, my favorite person in the world has taken care of it for me, didn’t they?”

You roll your eyes, “As if. What if I wasn’t able to make it in today, hm? Or what if I decided I wanted to bail out?”

Not that you would ever.

Yet he only grinned and laughed, “I trust you! So there's no worry!”

You held back another tired sigh as you muttered, “This isn’t about whether you trust me or not.”

What if one day you really couldn’t make it? What if one day something happened to you or the kids? What will you do then?

He then turned towards the students, “Okay everyone! Today’s class is over!”

“What?” Maki asked, leaning on her spear as he gave her teacher a confused look.

Inumaki chirped, “Salmon.”

Which was followed by a very confused Yuta and Panda “Huh?” 

Satoru clapped his hands together, “Yup! Lesson over!”

You brought your hand up to your face and facepamed.

It was only later when you and Satoru were walking around on the streets of Toyoko that you figured out why he had ended the lesson early despite his arrival, which also explained his absence in class that day.

“So…what your saying is that the curses are getting stronger? And more intelligent?” You say, summarizing the information dump that he had just given you.

Apparently, he had been cooped up in a meeting with the higher-up, and being the head of the Gojo Clan, it was obvious his attendance was required.

This information would usually cause one to panic or be scared because it would only mean something was wrong, something was so very wrong.

Yet the man-child before you had a grin on his face as he said in an almost relaxed nature, replying through his mouthful of cake that he had bought on the way, “Exactly!”

“What are they planning on doing about it then?”

“Dunno,” he responds simply, more concerned with licking the frosting off his fingers.

…

“Weren’t you in the meeting?!”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head off to the side to finally look at you, “said a bunch of nonsense, though.”

You felt like hitting him, “I’m sure curses becoming more dangerous is a bunch of nonsense.”

“Yeah, it was. But do you know what’s more interesting?”

There he goes, switching the topic.

“What?”

“The Mochi Mochi shop’s new cake,” He grinned, holding up the half-eaten cake with only the bottom part of the box present, the lid long gone.

It was lemon-flavored.

There was frosting stuck to the side of that grin of his, and you fought the urge to tiptoe and wipe it off. Just how sweet would it taste?

No! You were getting distracted. Too distracted! 

You should be focusing on the sudden bombshell of news that was suddenly dropped on you, and how there should be more urgency to such news, “This is serious Gojo!”

But when you expected his response you look up only to see the edges of his mouth in a downturn line as he grunted.

A headache was definitely coming up for you. 

“What?”

“My name.” 

His response was short. A clear meaning that something had bothered him. And of course, like the child he is– instead of communicating he will drag this out as long as possible.

“Your name?” You say in disbelief, having no clue as to what you had said to cause such a reaction from him, “What about your name?”

But you received no response as the manchild in front of you continued to pout.

You start to laugh, “Don’t tell me..-! Are you upset that your name isn’t the second coming of Jesus Christ or something?”

He only grunted again, and you could tell from under his blindfold he was scrunching up his face in a way that suggested he was bothered by something.

“Is the title as the strongest not enough?”

Silence.

“Oh come on…what is it?”

As the two of you walked on you continued to relay the past conversation again in your head.

What was it? Did you say something wrong? That couldn’t be it. Was it perhaps something happening around you weren’t aware of? Could it…

Ah. 

You knew why he was upset…you think– anyway. He couldn’t be upset over such a small thing…could he? Then again, he was a child stuffed inside an adult’s body.

Wasn’t he 28 this year?

You sigh, before stopping in your strides. You turn around and look up a him, a smile playing on your lips as he looked down at you curiously, his pout still in place.

You gesture for him to lean down, and so he complies, while also using one finger to lift his bandages halfway, revealing one of his blue eyes.

What happened next was something you don’t even know how it came to be. Your own daring had gotten too strong that night, or perhaps you had gotten too drunk off of Satoru’s presence.

Tiptoing to meet him in the middle, you bring your finger up to wipe the leftover frosting from his lips before bringing it to your mouth.

Sweet.

Too sweet.

You smiled up at him, “Aren’t you a spoiled child, Satoru?”

You look up at his eyes, expecting him to quip back. But you were met with wide eyes and complete silence.

Ah- had you gotten too comfortable? Did you go too far?

You watch as he slowly leaned away, tugging the blindfold back down to his eyes, before breaking out into a smug grin, “I-...I am quite a spoiled child.”

He stuttered.

Satoru Gojo never stutters.

He returned back to walking, waving a hand in the air, “And it does require a lot of attention.”

It was as if nothing happened, and that he was simply put off by it…is that you would have thought if you hadn’t spotted the back of his neck and the tip of his ears turning a bright shade of red.

You still stood there in place, only moving when he looked back at you after noticing you weren’t walking beside him anymore, “Don’t tell me I paralyzed you with my beauty?”

“In your dreams.”

You run to catch up with him.

Perhaps that night he did manage to successfully diverge you from the pressing topic he had no interest in discussing. But you also managed to make the Gojo Satoru flustered that night, so you wouldn’t take it as a complete loss.

Ever since that day, you notice that he had become a little clumsier with his eating, often getting it on different parts of his face.

He also visits that Mochi Mochi shop a lot more often after that…

That interaction gave you hope that perhaps…that just maybe…there was a chance. But that was all it was and ever will be.

A chance.

Tell me, in another life, would it have been something more ‘than a chance’?

But it seemed fate had other plans. 

Fate, you now think to yourself, what a curse it is.

Shortly after that things started going downhill. The vessel for Sukuna, the King of Curses in the form of a child named Yuji, appeared. And many things came crashing after that.

But most of you still made it out okay, and things were looking up. It was okay, you told yourself. Things were…okay. Because things had to be okay.

.

.

.

But it wasn’t.

October 31st.

One of the two dates you will never be able to forget.

The Shibuya Incident.

The Sealing of the Strongest Sorcerer alive.

The Sealing of Gojo Satoru.

You remember the empty panic you felt when you heard the news. It had made your mind blank, and it felt as if it was falling apart. It was almost the exact same feeling from that day, all those years ago. But you were older now, more mature. 

So…you didn’t cry. Nor did you act out on your panic, nor did you break down. Even if every single cell in your body wanted to just collapse on itself. 

No, you couldn’t. You had a duty to fulfill first, and your emotions came last.

And so you fought, and fought, you fought for your life and for the lives of others. For the lives of the citizens, of the students, and for your home.

He will be alright, you repeated in your mind.

It was constant, never-ending. It was a sort of comfort, and it felt like if you said it long enough it would be true.

It has to be true.

He will be alright because he said so. 

Because he said so to you.

He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer alive. He was Gojo Satoru, your arrogant classmate. He was Satoru, your…

“Be careful,” You say after him, mere moments before he entered the dark veil. He wore his blindfold and his Jujustu Tech uniform, all prepared for what was to come, and yet his expression showed no sign of worry.

And you almost believed it.

Almost.

He turned around to look at you. It was one of these moments that you wished you could’ve seen his clear sky-like eyes so that you could’ve seen what he was hiding behind his mask of arrogance.

A way to a person’s soul was through their eyes, no matter how high their wall was or how far the line was drawn. But the person in front of you had closed that off too.

You sometimes wondered if you could see those eyes…would they have helped you understand Gojo Satoru a little better?

“Are you concerned?” He grinned, “Worried about me?”

“Yeah, and what about it?”

He brings a hand over his heart, “I’m honored.”

You take a step forward.

You wondered if you could reach him.

“Listen, I have a bad feeling.”

“Don’t sweat. I’m the strongest, remember? I’ll be fine,” He said, waving you off.

That damn line. 

That damn line.

“I know. Trust me, I know that…”

More than anyone else, perhaps.

You continue, “But just- just in case-”

Just in case something goes wrong.

“Remind me after to take you cake shopping, isn’t your birthday soon? Don’t worry,” He flashed a peace sign, “We’ll celebrate it,” Was all he said before he disappeared into the curtain with a small wave.

You wished he was there to celebrate all your birthdays to come.

It was only after you arrived back in your cold and empty apartment that you collapsed by the door that you had just closed.

You couldn’t stand up any longer, and even walking from your car to the elevator had your legs shaking.

But you didn’t cry. You couldn’t cry. Because crying would have meant it was over. Crying would have meant you were grieving. You couldn’t grieve, not now. For now, you must remain strong. For your students, for friends, for your Satoru, and for you. 

So no, you were not going to cry. You had no one to grieve over.

It was not over. Not yet. Not now.

And so you sat there, collapsed by your apartment door for the rest of the night, unmoving. You felt as if you’d lost a bit of yourself. As if someone had come in and torn it away, tossing it into the deepest depths of the sea.

Your eyes were a bit empty, but still alive, nonetheless. 

That night you did not shed a single tear.

It was to your immense relief when you heard the news that Satoru was alive. He was alive, breathing, and unsealed.

You wanted to run to him, to give him a hug, to hold him tight, just for your heart to confirm that he was okay.

He was okay.

You wanted to hear him laugh, to see his stupid grin, and to hear all the weird things he had to say. Everything and anything that told you that he was fine.

But the events that followed did not allow you to see much of Gojo Satoru. He was busy and was away preparing.

Preparing for what could have possibly be his biggest battle yet. You had other words to title the battle, but you didn’t want to say it. You couldn’t say it.

Because it would have made it all the more painful.

You had many memories of Gojo Satoru, many treasured ones that you kept close to your heart, locked away and hidden from sight. Some of the sweetness of youthful ignorance, some were more of a competition to see who could come up with the more creative insult, and some were of the times you managed to steal his love, if only for a few moments.

Could you even call it that?

But this one will forever be the most painful.

A night before December 24th, you, who were walking around the Jujustu Campus to delay the sun from rising, just so happened to pass by the Tori Gate, and to your luck, also see him.

It was almost as if fate decided to play one last cruel joke.

You saw him standing there surrounded by the many stone lanterns that remained intact there after all these years. He stood there silently and unmoving, staring somewhere off into the distance as if he was waiting for you.

He was. But he’ll never tell you. He never managed to tell you many things.

He didn’t wear his blindfold. His hair was down with remnants of water. He must’ve taken a shower not too long ago. He wore a T-shirt with sweatpants, somehow unbothered from the cold of winter’s night.

You silently walk up to him, standing there for a while. You knew he knew you were here. Just as how you always knew when he was there.

The two of you didn’t say anything.

You took a sharp inhale, and then a deep exhale before you raised your head, bringing it to look at him. To your surprise, he was already looking at you.

You stare into his eyes which still somehow managed to bring heaven to you. Looking at those eyes reminded you of many memories, of the past, present, and now…

They provided a sense of comfort…of familiarity in this ever-changing world, because even if the whole city was destroyed one day, it seemed as if those eyes would still be there, to hold you stable.

“Hey,” he softly breathed out.

“Hi.”

“It’s pretty cold out,” he says as a gust of wind passes by, making you shiver slightly.

Ah. So he does know what being cold is.

You take another glance at his outfit, “Says you.”

You could hear a faint smile in the way he sighed.

“Come to wish me luck, hm?” He asks, his voice light and calm.

You raise your eyebrows, “Do you even need it?”

“Of course,” he answers back almost instantaneously.

“I suppose I’ll make an exception today then,” you decide as you tilt back and forth on the heels of your foot.

You offer your best smile.

“Good luck then, Satoru. May the heavens be in your…favor”

Yet you couldn’t help your voice from breaking near the end. You’re sure he heard it as well.

This was goodbye, wasn’t it?

Saying goodbye was hard. It was never your specialty, and even with how many goodbyes you’ve said you could never get used to it.

Yet you were certain this was the hardest goodbye you’ve had to say yet.

He offered a small grin, “Why are you crying?”

You could feel something wet fall down your cheek and onto your shirt, but you didn’t look down and check. It felt as if the moment you looked away from those eyes it would be gone all too soon.

His eyes softened, bringing his hand to cup the side of your cheek so carefully as if you might break any moment now.

You wanted to respond with a quip, insult his hair, or even his attitude, and yet you could only bite your lips to prevent the sobs from breaking through.

This couldn’t be goodbye. It simply can’t be.

And so, you could only softly shake your head as your vision started to blur from your tears.

“Hey, don’t cry,” He laughed quietly, wiping your tears with his thumb, still cupping your face.

“I’m not,” you say, your voice shaky and barely audible.

But he heard you. He always did.

“Sure you aren’t.”

You look down, bringing your arm to wipe the tears from your eyes.

You can’t cry. Not now.

But you couldn’t stop. It was as if apart of you knew that this might be the last time you were going to see him, to feel his warmth against yours, to hear his voice, to–

“Look at me,” he requested gently, using his thumb to draw small circles on the side of your cheek.

And so you do, you look back at him, taking in his white soft hair that almost reminded you of the first snow, the purest of snow. You take in his scent, the smell of vanilla. 

You force yourself to etch his voice into your memories so that you will never forget.

“I’m the strongest. I’ll win.”

You wanted to believe him, oh how dearly you wanted to. But he probably even knew better than you did.

Satoru sighs when he still sees your hesitating face, his face lost in thought before bringing up his pinky to you.

And suddenly, you were sixteen again, and not a day older than when you had first walked under this gate. You and him, standing underneath the Torii Gate in the presence of the bluest spring as petals danced around the two of you.

“Let’s make a promise then,” he whispers with a cheeky smile.

You eye him suspiciously through your tears as you force your voice to be stable, “What kind of promise?”

“I’ll win, that’s my promise,” he says.

A promise to you.

“You promise?” You couldn’t help but ask again, like a child seeking comfort.

He nods affirmatively, “I promise.”

You bring your pinky up to his, entwining in a desperate kind of promise.

He smiles down softly at you as the two of you shake on it.

You then take a step closer, wrapping your arms around his waist.

And he let you.

You could feel his warmth. He didn’t have his infinity on.

He never did when it came to you.

He chuckled warmly, “If my memory serves me correctly…” he paused, “A while ago, someone had called the motion childish?”

“Shut up,” you mumble through into his shirt.

You felt his hands wrap around yours, pulling you closer to him.

This was possibly the closest you’ve ever been to Gojo Satoru.

“Don’t go,” You say quietly, “Don’t go.”

 “Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not!” You protest.

And all of a sudden you were the child now, all your walls were broken and damaged as you lay yourself bare.

“Not you…not you too,” you beg softly, as if hoping that your words could change his will.

You know it can’t.

“Didn’t we just promise?” He says, “We’ll see eachother again. I’m sure of it.”

And for a second, you believed him.

Gojo Satoru, you are a cruel man, did you know?

Gojo Satoru, what were you supposed to do now with your promise? Tell me, you begged. Tell me, what am I supposed to do now that all there was left was that promise of yours?

Where are you to come and comfort me when I’m no longer able to stand by myself? Where are you to come and dry my tears again?

What were you supposed to do when all there left were memories locked behind your heart? What were you supposed to do now when all the words he’s ever said will forever be played on repeat.

Gojo Satoru was a lot of things. Sometimes he was arrogant, annoying, and rude. But he was also kind, caring, and lonely. He was a child at heart, someone who dreamed, someone who had high ambitions, someone who took care of his students, and someone who had a pretty smile.

He was your friend, your coworker, your classmate, he was someone you confided with, someone that made you feel like home, someone that made you laugh, someone who was close to you, he was always and had only ever been Satoru to you.

You’ve always known there was a before Gojo Satoru, then there was during Gojo Satoru…you just never thought that one day there would be an after Gojo Satoru.

[aurora-ze-aquarius]

Unfinished Fic: "Sometimes, a bit of rain is all you need"

(Jackson Storm centered fic)

Written sometime in December 2022.

--

I was never able to finish this story, mainly because I couldn't come up with a proper ending.

This story takes place in an au where magic exists, also the cars are humans too. I never got to flesh it out properly. Maybe next time.

In this au, some people are born with magic, Jackson has the ability to manipulate the weather through his emotions. Basically Peppa from Encanto. I was inspired by greendreamer's fantasy cars/ttte au.

Inspired by a oneshot on ao3 where Jackson had weather magic. Unfortunately, I don't remember what it was called :(

Oh yeah, his real name is supposed to be Jackson Ian Rivera (🇺🇸🇵🇭)

⚠️TW/CW⚠️: Implied child neglect, emotional ab*se, panic attacks.

--

'Put your cloud away'

Is a phrase he's been told more times that he could count. 

The Rivera family is not unfamiliar to weather magic. It's been said that they're a family that has practiced this sort of arcana for generations. They are said to be able to summon winds and clouds, to make it rain at will. A Stormbringer is said to be able to control an average area of about 30 meters in diameter surrounding them. The more powerful mages can control the winds up to a mile away. The more refined the user is in their magic, the stronger and more controlled it is. 

They are a proud family, not to mention rich and wealthy. Proud to display their powerful and unique arcana. Majestic eyes of the storms. Something Jackson is not. 

Arcana. How he despises it. The magic has brought nothing but misery and pain in his life. 

Unlike most of his family members, Jackson was born with a curse. A curse in which his arcana is deeply intertwined with his emotions. Arcana in its very nature, is heavily intertwined with one's thoughts and emotions. Losing control of how one feels means losing control of one's connections with their magic. But Jackson's case is different. 

Whenever he's happy, skies are clear, as the breezes are light. Whenever he's not, rain begins to pour, as the thunder claps loudly. Not to mention, how unusually powerful his arcana is compared to most of his family members.

'Put your cloud away' they'd say. They would tell the young child that whenever he would misbehave in their eyes. Whenever tears swelled up in the corners of his retinas as small raindrops began to fall, dampening his once neatened clothes and hair. 

'Put your cloud away' they'd say- whenever the boy would feel frustrated, perhaps even angry, and would throw tantrums. Whenever lightning flashed, when he felt like they didn't understand him, why even felt that way in the first place. 

'Put your cloud away' they'd say- when dark skies and strong winds would cover almost every square inch of their large mansion.  When the boy tried… he tried so hard, yet failed and 'couldn't keep his emotions in check' according to them. 

It wasn't his fault though… was it..?

There's a reason why Jackson failed to connect to other people. They were either deemed not good enough to be his friends, or they would make fun of him and his interests. His family was of no help to those issues.

Honestly? He found it hilarious how shocked that so-called family was when he decided to finally cut them out of his life once IGNTR found him.

Despite having them out of his life, he could never rid himself of their, and subsequently, his views on his arcana. It's part of him, and he hates it. No matter what he did, it was always there. Continuously taunting him, whilst being just out of reach.

Despite them being gone, he knows better than to have a cloud constantly follow him whenever he's in a bad mood. 

--

Jackson hopped out of the car, panting as sweat beads dripped from his forehead. He turned towards the large monitor and growled, unsatisfied with his results.

" '214 mph'. You're doing good." Ray said, crossing his arms.

Jackson scoffed, wiping his sweat with an arm. "Not good enough…" Thunder crackled, as faint drips of water fell down from above him. 

Ray took note of this and sighed. He patted Jackson's shoulder and said, "You did good today, Storm. Take it easy." 

Jackson glared at him, but immediately tore his gaze to the small cloud that loomed above him. He gritted his teeth, wanting to curse it out but instead heaved a sigh, closing his eyes. 

"Put your cloud away… Put your cloud away…" He whispered to himself, taking deep breaths. He repeated this process until the rain stopped, the thunder ceased and the cloud disappeared. 

He opened his eyes. He turned away from the simulator and began to leave the room. "I can do better… I will do better…"

"Your powers are great, but far too unstable… Keep your cloud away… 

You could kill someone with that lightning bolt."

--

Jackson stared at the large monitor that stood tall above the stadium. His breath hitched, eyes widened in shock. 

"I… I…" 

It wasn't his name that took first place. But instead, McQueen and his little costume girl stole the win from him. Little shit appeared out of nowhere and stole the win for herself. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. He felt a vein almost pop. 

"FUCK." He screamed. He nearly got into a tangent when the sound of thunder crackling grabbed his attention. A mass of large clouds seemed to have manifested out of nowhere and had covered the stadium, blocking out the starlight from reaching the people. 

"What's this Darrel? It seems like rain clouds have appeared out of nowhere."

"It looks to me like someone's arcana is going haywire! Hopefully things will calm down before they get crazy. And it's already been a pretty crazy day!"

Jackson swallowed a gulp. 'Shit. Not now—!' 

Turning his car on he quickly made his way to where his trailer was. The paparazzi wanted his attention, but thankfully security kept them out of his way, lest someone gets injured due to getting in the way of his car. He quickly drove into the trailer and shut the door, not wanting to face the public. Not wanting to face Ray, McQueen, the other racers, and especially not that costume girl. 

He was panting, breaths were heavy and uneven as the reality set in. He lost. He lost to a random street racer. He lost his cool and almost killed someone, again. He lost his calm and now his storm—

He stiffens. That cloud. It shrouded the whole area. It was massive.

Jackson slowly backed into a corner, hugging himself. His back slid against the wall as he began chanting the words.

"Put your cloud away… put your cloud away… put your cloud away… put it away… just fucking put it away…"

He didn't know how long it took for the dark clouds to disappear; he fell asleep on the floor. But they did disappear just moments before he closed his eyes. Luckily before any raindrops fell and spoiled the day for the racing fans.

--

Jackson was pacing back and forth, still chanting about how his cloud needs to 'go away'. He just wrapped up another training session, and had stormed off to IGNTR's back gardens when he failed to break through 214 mps. 

He gripped his hair, yelling out in frustration. His clothes were soaked, not only from the sweat from training. The rain cloud above him thundered, flashing a bit of lightning once in a while. Jackson tried to swat it away, despite his futile efforts. 

"GO AWAY. DAMMIT." 

Ray watched him from a window heaving a sigh. He was worried. Jackson's storms seemed to be getting worse each time he lost a race, whether it was against Cruz or a different racer. He knew Jackson was a perfectionist at heart, and has tried multiple times to get him to understand that it's not just about winning, but each time, his pleas would fall on deaf ears. 

He knows the boy has it in him to change. But Jackson's mind is clouded in poor judgement, and it pains him to see him this way. That's not even mentioning Jackson's terrible coping mechanisms.

Ray sighed, crossing his arms. "There's no need to force your cloud away…" He mumbled. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of rain every once in a while…" He watched as Jackson seemed to have given up, and just seemed to be standing there, underneath the ever growing storm. 

"I just hope you can realize that one day…"

---

Jackson didn't know how he was dragged into this situation. He was at a party. A party to celebrate the success of the latest race. He won the race (thankfully) of course, but he absolutely despised going to events like these. 

Too many people here. Possibly drunkards just partying it up with A-list celebrities and fellow racers. 

Ray somehow managed to convince him to go. Says he "needs to make peace with the other racers'' or that "he has to try to be nicer to them." He doesn't understand it at all. It's been this way for years. Jackson's already used to it. But nonetheless, he managed to reluctantly drag his ass here. 

It took less than five minutes of just standing around in the middle of the room for Jackson to immediately say 'fuck it' and make his way onto the rooftop of the building, away from where everyone else is at. 

He sighed, elbows propped up against the concrete railings. Ray would be disappointed, but he could just lie and say nobody wanted to talk to him. Well technically, it wouldn't be lying when that's exactly what happened. Nobody knew he was here, and thus nobody could talk to him.

"Hello?" 

Until someone else made their way to the rooftop as well. 

Jackson sharply inhaled, the winds howled, the cold breezes blowing past his face. He knew who that voice belonged to. 

"Brr. Really chilly here, huh?" She joked, rubbing her arms as a means to keep warm. Jackson attempted to ignore her, staring off into the distance, a can of cranberry flavored Sprite in his hand. 

"Hey um. Would you mind if I stayed here for a bit?" She asked, walking up right next to him. Well, she lingered just away from him, but just close enough where she could talk to him. 

Jackson groaned, lightly crushing the half empty can in his hands. "What do you want, Ramirez?"   

[Unfinished Ending]

[anotherrosesthatfell]

Is there any story about how Cross received the veil from Killer?

Oh yes, it's a draft but thank God you remind me of it so I finished it already- also I change Cross and Killer age gap- to make it more logical duh- 💀 I didn't count properly back then-

It have been a few days since Cross made a deal with Nightmare. He had to admit that Nightmare is a bit dumb and desperate. At least for Cross he get to walk around the castle freely.

Also he really want to meet with the Queen again. He was so in love with her beauty but unfortunately Nightmare didn't let him to talk with Killer.

"I wonder where is she...." he look around looking for a servant that could help him.

Unfortunately none of the servants want to help him and they seems to avoid talking about Killer.

Well seems like Cross have to use his skill to find- he's too dedicated-

Later he stumbled across a garden. Seems like it was hidden because he only find it because he fell off from the pond which lead him to the garden. Oddly enough his clothes is still dry.

The garden seems to be tend carefully by someone. The flowers, the fishes and kids.

"Wait children? What are they doing here-." Cross muttered to himself.

The two children are sleeping and they resemble Nightmare. Cross guessed it's Nightmare kids since he did told him he was married.

Cross decided to wake the two children so he can ask them why are they here alone.

Before he can do that, a red knife suddenly threatened his neck. Cross recognized the glove, it's Killer.

"Ah! Lady, it's me! Remember?" Cross smiles as he slowly took away the knife from Killer.

"... Oh. You the weird man who proposed to me with that flower ring." Said Killer.

"yes that's is me!" Said Cross. "Are you the one who tend this garden? It's beautiful just like you."

"be quiet, my children is sleeping." Killer took away her knife from Cross then pushed him to the side.

"Wait children-?! Oh damn are you the Queen?" realization hits Cross harder than his almost execution. "You look young to be a mother though, how old are you? I'm 23 by the way."

"Queen.... Yeah sure." Killer sighed and looked dead in the eyes. "I'm 20."

"20..? But your children..." Cross finally realized what's going on. "Oh...- sorry, I heard the king is a very evil man. I should expect something like this... ...-"

"... It's okay, it's not your fault." Said Killer. "How did you get in here? This place is.. Well a prison for me."

"A prison? So you mean you can't get out at all?" He asked.

"Yeah...- I tried and my children ended up getting hurt by him." she replied then start to picking up both Crescent and Angst from the ground. "You should go back, he will come back anytime soon. I don't want people to get hurt because of me again..."

She then enter the small cottage that's is in the garden. It's where she sleep since she hates being in the same room with Nightmare.

Cross had a deep thought for while. He went back to castle, thinking what he can do for Killer.

"hmm... I think this should work." Cross got a wonderful idea now.

The next day....

As usual Killer is tending the garden while Crescent and Angst playing with the fishes.

It was a peaceful morning until Cross came again-

"Hello my lady and princes! I have a great news!" Said Cross happily. "Buckle up because we're going out!"

Killer was startled while the children immediately hide behind Killer.

"What...?" She doesn't understand what Cross meant by that.

"Well I talked with the king. He agreed to let you out once a while so let's go! I'll bring you out for lunch." Cross explained everything to Killer.

"Ah... Mom are we really going out? Can I finally see the sun?" Asked Crescent.

"Of course kiddo! If you want to see the sun you have to go to the light kingdom though but we can go there right now if you want."

"Uwah! Mom let's go there!" Angst tugged on Killer sleeve. "Please I want to read more books too!"

"...- okay fine. Before that we have to wear disguise. I don't want to get weird stares." Said Killer.

"If people stares at you, they probably think you're beautiful you know?" Cross suddenly complimented Killer out of nowhere which got her flustered.

"Ah... Huh...?" a second later she frown. "Real funny- haha, I'll go get some scarfs."

Killer went inside the tiny cottage to get some scarfs-

"Mister, you shouldn't call my mommy pretty. She don't like being called that." Said Angst.

"really? She seems a bit happy when I called her that though. You also should call your mother beautiful, so she can know how much you loves her." Said Cross.

"I don't see the point of loving—"

Crescent quickly cut Angst off and smile nervously. "of course mister! We will always say that to mom."

A few moments later, they arrived at the sun kingdom. Crescent and Angst are wearing adorable onesie bear. Meanwhile Killer is wearing a hijab and Cross wearing a veil...

"Seriously is this necessary?" Asked Cross.

"No but it's funny to see you in that veil." Killer slightly chuckles. "Don't take it seriously, you look decent."

"Really? thanks!" Cross was happy to hear a compliment from Killer. "Oh I pickpockets some people money while you were talking. Let's use it."

"How did you..- never mind..." She chuckles. "Let's go."

It was a very happy time for them. Killer was happy to see her children get to express their childhood.

Hours passed by, Crescent and Angst fell asleep on Killer's lap.

"Here I got free cotton candy for you." Said Cross as he sat next to Killer. "Don't worry I didn't steal it, I seduce the seller instead."

"you're really bad haha-" Killer smiles as she took the cotton candy from Cross hand. "You know this is my first time having this. I was isolated and didn't get to experience my childhood..." Said Killer.

"Oh... Then from now on I'll try to be more free so I can bring you out." Cross immediately replied to Killer. "I also didn't get to experience my childhood since I was living in a slum...-"

"heh... I guess we do have something in common." Killer smiles faintly.

It was a very comforting atmosphere. Cross get to know Killer while Killer got a new friend.

"I really like the veil you gave me. It's actually more comfortable than I thought." Said Cross.

"I'm glad. It belonged to someone I care about. Not gonna lie, it suits you more than them." Said Killer. "you... You can keep it. I trust you to take care of it."

"Really? I mean I don't want to take something precious from you." Cross was about to take off the veil but Cross stopped him.

"It's alright, you're now precious to me..."

"oh...!" Cross quickly nodded, he was blushing but thank God the veil hide the redness on his cheeks. "My real name is Hermes-" Cross suddenly blurted out his real out of nowhere- damn simp-

"... Oh, my real name is Amaris." she suddenly laugh at Cross behavior. "You can call me by my name when we're alone. I don't trust anyone expect you now."

"Oh my God lady please marry me-"

"what?"

"I mean I want to marry a bird!" Cross mentally slapped himself

Wow he really make himself an embarrassment-

[skzcoffeemachine]

Darling..

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

a/n : moonbin (may his soul rest in peace) was actually one of my earliest bias. And this is not me romanticising the whole unfortunate accident. I just wish to be there for Chan, parasocially, delusionally, whatever works.

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

“it's believed that the young idol passed out and his phone was on the floor, broken..”

You turned off the YouTube video you clicked on, expecting some truth to come out behind the passing, but ofc it was the internet with speculations abound.

Astro was the first group that got you into kpop, and the demise had affected you but not as much as it had affected your boyfriend.

“hey.. ”

He sounds weak.

“Hey.. ”, you smiled softly but his head was hung too low to notice. You knew what was affecting him. But cannot even start to imagine what must be going through his head. Just the thought makes your eyes well up.

I wish your pain was mine.

You watched as he trudged over to his desk, sitting down, laptop opened, trying to drown himself into his work.

You realise the least you could do was to help him eat. He has not ate properly in days, chugging down energy drinks, something out of character for Chan. But he needed energy to appear reliable in front of his kids. Earlier in the day, you had called Chan's mom to learn her curry recipe. It was ready, on the stove, piping hot.

It has also been days since he smiled in front of you. True, he force smiles when he's out and about. He did not have to pretend , in front of you. And you preferred it that way.

As much as you wanted to go up to him and kiss his worries away, you knew better . Instead, you went straight to the bathroom and started prepping a warm bath.

He recently bought bath bombs to try, but neither of you really knew the best way to enjoy it. So, you earlier asked Hyunjin about it. Time to apply it practically. You added some epsom salts, known to relieve stress. Then, dropped the bath bomb, which started fuzzing up into the colours of the galaxy. Next step was to dim the lights. You smiled to yourself. The mood lighting in the bathroom was a great idea on your part. Now it was the harder part. You silently draw up cue cards in your head to chain the perfect sentences , something that might help him.

“Chan.. ” his eyes looked up to you when you put your hands on his shoulders. “Come”.

He was probably too tired to retaliate or even say no. You gently tugged on his hoodie, signalling him to take it off. He stripped down, quite lazily, his eyes glued on the floor the whole time. You gulped down tears. How can you bear to see someone you love like this?

You guided him to the bathtub. He slid into the water until he was immersed upto his neck. You sat besides the tub, helping him place his head comfortably against the edge.

“baby, can I wash your hair? It will feel good”, you said in a whisper. He hummed in response. You stood up to bring out your shampoo from the cabinet. You remembered how he said your shampoo relaxes him whenever he was feeling less than ideal.

You were not the slightest bit alarmed or shocked by the sound of small sniffles that come from him as you detangle as gently as possible.

You silently and delicately wipe some tears from his eyes. 

“Darling.. ” you whispered, “it was not your fault”.

That was what he needed to hear. Enough for silent sniffles to evolve into hoarse sobs. Enough to finally break you too.

It was not the first time he had cried in front of you. Yet, it had never been like this. As far as you knew this man, you know his soul and how he takes the blame for everything bad that goes in his loved one's life. He had been working on it. It was getting better.

“I ..Should..Have been there”, he cried out in between sobs.

“y/n..what must be his family going through? His members? His sister?” he was shaking so much that you had to get into the water waist deep, with your clothes on, to hug him tight.

As his face buried in your chest, tears staining the sweater darker, he let it all out, everything he had been holding on inside himself. You hugged him tighter as he clung on the fabric in a failed attempt of control.

“Chan.. Chan.. Look at me.. Look..”

You held his reddened face in both hands.

“Breathe.. Baby”

He obeyed, although it was getting progressively difficult for him, from all the tears.

“Chan.. ”, you drew small circles on his cheek with your thumb, “you know..you have always been there, for us, for them, even for people you haven't meet yet. ”

For the first moment in what felt like forever, he held eye contact. His eyes was swollen, more than his morning kind of swollen, more than you have ever seen before.

“But what if one of you was going through the same thing.. And what if I failed to be there.. ” he spoke what was in his mind the whole time, mustering up courage.

To that, you smiled. “Well.. You have given us so much love and hope and strength . You have even saved millions with Channie's room. You just don't know it yet”.

And that was the truth.

His sigh was of relief to you. It hurts. He will hurt. But also it was extremely important for him to realise how loved he was, how he was helping millions out there.

The silence was disrupted by a growl. Your stomach. Perfect timing, dear tummy. He let out a small laugh. That was the sound of angels to you. “Let's have dinner, hmm? ”, you took the chance to ensure he has his proper meal in days. “How can I say no to that cute tummy? ", he quipped, rubbing your belly violently but teasingly,both of your giggles resounding through the bathroom walls.

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

A/n : is it peaceful there, moonbin? Rest well. Thank you for everything. 6

[mephinomaly]

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 12

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Time: The next day

Location: ES building, RhythmLink office conversation space

Keito: (Just what are you planning on doing Sakuma!?)

(“I’ll be away for a few days. In my absence, take care of anything that happens at the office for me.” ? And you tell me this now?!)

(...Ever since we filmed “Vampire Shogun”, he’s been acting overly friendly.)

(Do you really think that I’ve forgotten everything you’ve done? That we’ve bonded again to the point that it’s like we’re childhood friends again?)

(If you thought such naivety would get through to me, who is past salvation…I’m insulted.)

(...Well, even if Sakuma doesn’t ask me to, I’d take care of anything that comes up for him.)

(As of late, UNDEAD seems to be in an unfortunate situation, and Ra*bits is tangled up with some influential figure–)

(Among us young ones in RhythmLink, the unit with the most momentum at the moment is us, AKATSUKI.)

(From this point, things start to get complicated. Well, on the surface at least…)

(Therefore we will take charge and ensure a bright future for the young ones in this agency.)

(To do that, I must be proactive and introduce myself to the higher ups!)

(I need to complete chores diligently, and take care of small tasks for my senpais!)

(At the moment, there’s a deep trench between RhythmLink higher ups and us. Let’s bridge this gap, and work together to bring this agency into a new era.)

Tomoya: Zzz, zzzz… ♪

Keito: …!? Mashiro? Why are you sleeping here on the sofa?

That’s dangerous… I almost sat on you. I could have squished you

Tomoya: Mmnhnnn…. H-hng? Where, am I?

Keito: Are you awake now?... Good morning, Mashiro.

Tomoya: Waah!? Aaa, g-g-good morning Hasumi-senpai!

Keito: Hm. Well done for greeting me properly.

More importantly, what are you doing sleeping here of all places?

Tomoya: Ah, um, I’m sorry… As you might know, things have been tricky as of late.

Keito: Are you a stray cat? If you’re going to sleep, go back to your own room. You need to sleep in a proper bed otherwise you’ll hurt yourself.

Tomoya: I know… But this is an important time for us, so I have to try my hardest.

Keito: Is there anything I can do?

Tomoya: Ah, there is something I wanted to ask you. There’s something I want to do using the SSVRS–

But um, UNDEAD are currently using it, so. I have some of the things I need but I don’t think it’s enough.

Keito: What? UNDEAD are using the SSVRS?

Tomoya: Yes. When I applied to use it, the person in charge told me that.

Keito: They’re away taking part in some sort of secret plan. And that plan involves using the SSVRS?

Tomoya: Oh? I didn’t know about that, so maybe they’re not really away?

I thought they were going to take part in a live broadcast today.

Keito: Live broadcast? Is that a part of the secret plan too? You know quite a lot about the activities of other units, don’t you?

Tomoya: Ahaha. I think that’s one of my strong points, and since I like it, I’m good at it. Well, my love of idols has been stolen by Shiratori.

Ah, look. They’re live already. A special emergency broadcast from UNDEAD.

Keito: Emergency broadcast? Are they disbanding?

Tomoya: No, I don’t think so. UNDEAD are a popular unit, so.

Hm? What are they saying? Isn’t that weird?

Keito: What is it, show me.

Tomoya: Look at it on your own phone please~...?

Keito: Fine. …Hm, what is this? What are these costumes they’re wearing?

What are they singing— is that their debut song?

No, that was a slightly different song. This is one of the songs they were deciding on for their debut live.

There was quite a lot of reasons why they didn’t end up singing it—

Tomoya: You’re quite well informed too. Are you an UNDEAD fan too, Hasumi-senpai?

Keito: Hm. There’s been a lot going on with them since they formed, really even before that.

But why are they singing that? A song from ages ago that nobody remembers?

Are they planning on going back to their roots? It’s true UNDEAD have been on decline recently, but enough to do that?

Fumu, HELLSING, was it? As in that famous vampire exterminator, Van Helsing? No, isn’t the spelling different?

‘Hell’, as in the underworld, and ‘sing’ as in, to sing.

How ominous. What the hell are those guys up to this time…?

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 11

Directory

PYSCHOBREAK/Chapter 1

[butterfrogmantis]

Precontext this is sort of a replacement for my original Kheprii & Diligent dynamic because as much fun as that was it was based off a dream and in my actual au it doesn't really work properly due to in-universe stuff so like it was fun and all but it's more or less retconned now maybe they still had the epic fight and maybe they still had a lil' something but then Kheprii returns to her assigned post and yadda yadda mostly just a fun au rather than being part of the actual Butterverse ya know

SmurfIvy was the head animal handler for the lead Grove scout team. Not just dragonflies, but equipped with a varied knowledge of other mounts for the grove. This is perhaps how she met her wife, SmurfBuddleia. The head of the farming committee and lover of animals herself, bubbly, buff Bud was the perfect match. Their baby did come with some complications – an infant infection needed a lifesaving amputation of her left arm as a child but after that it was a smooth recovery and the family were happy. Until they weren’t.

That night happened. The night SmurfStorm crashed into the grove, panicked and shaking, desperately seeking out the baby she knew had just been orphaned. Stormy’s team of 7 had been reduced to 1 in a freak accident involving a scouting party gone wrong. An unknown human wizard had captured the other 6 members of the scout party to turn to gold. Amongst these were the married couple SmurfTiger and SmurfPoppy, who had recently had a stork delivery, and SmurfIvy, whose wife and young daughter were at home. Whilst SmurfStorm was desperately seeking the orphaned baby (later Quixotic) it was SmurfLily who came to Bud with the bad news.

I mean. There’s other ng that are country kids. Mari simply has a country accent, Wrangler gets involved with a cowboy lifestyle, Sower is a textbook farmer’s daughter and even child Diligent could lay down a banjo himself, but Fuchsia was the grove equivalent. Banjo skills to rival Diligent even with a prosthetic arm - but with a voice that didn’t quite match up, Fuchsia dove hard into the honky-tonk ways of her mother Buddleia for the first few years of her life and was darn-tootin’ proud of it too. Unfortunately it wasn’t always viewed so well by the other grove kids, and Fuchsia started to resent it later on.

Buddleia and Farmer are pretty good friends even if they don’t see each other often, them’s farmin’ folk stick together. The kids? Less so. Fuchsia insists her farm in the grove is much cooler than Dil’s and they have a lot more workers and more animals so why does only Diligent’s tall dad work the village farm … also his little sister is sorta weird looking no offence Fuchsia just doesn’t really hang around babies much they’re too squirmy and gross and actuallly boys are gross too what's she even doing here.

Fuchsia is one of the oldest NG, coming just under Lapidary in the official pipeline list of deliveries (for important ng – truth is there’s a lot more than my ocs wandering around but I don’t have time to dedicate 100+ ocs) Fuchsia very much grows up in the grove but she starts to turn away from her farming life in her preteens. She becomes embarrassed of her mother’s extroverted and simple ways and ends up in a rebellious phase of wanting to be looked up too, starting to look more towards the kind of person her other mother was and resentful she barely remembers her. Fuchsia starts working to become a major athlete – allstar trackstar, rock climber, swimmer, martial artist – she’s got the attitude to match the muscles and a mean fightin’ side to her. She’s not necessarily mean herself but VERY quick tempered and arguably as bad as Tuffy for instigating fisticuffs.

Fuchsia returns to Smurf Village for the first time in years to see her friend Foxglove and wow this place has hardly changed a bit since she was a kid and HOLY SHIT IS THAT THE FARM BOY SHE USED TO KNOW? He’s …… actually super buff wow. Fuchsia joins the Diligent simp club (get in line).

Butttt unlike the majority of the simp club Fuchsia will flat out refuse to admit it, culminating instead in what looks like a one sided rivalry. Truly, despite being one of the nicest dudes around Diligent always finds himself paired with people who want to kick his ass for some reason. Unlike Slacker who originally hated his work ethic and Kheprii who wanted her damn beetles back, in Fuchsia’s case it’s because she’s slightly obsessed with proving herself more athletic than him. Or perhaps she just wants to see him in tank tops. Her goals are beyond your understanding.

SmurfFuchsia and Quixotic have a vague mutual … acknowledgement, since both lost mom’s in the scout party disaster. Quixotic lost both but also gained a whole new family whilst Fuchsia still has 1 bio mom but has become distant from her … perhaps talking with Quixy will give Fuchsia the push she needs to repair the relationship with Bud.

Not Vitriolic tho. That’s putting gunpowder and fire together. Vitty is more of silver tongued fox with less muscle and Fuchsia's more of a physical fighter that can't come up with insults but stick em in a room together and watch em explode. They've definitely kissed

SmurfIvy, SmurfBud, SmurfFuchsia, Diligent, Sower, SmurfFoxglove, Quixotic and Vitriolic are mine

[builtbybrokenbells]

ive stuck to posting mostly fic content on this blog, and i will remain doing so from here on out. but in light of a certain post made, I came here to air out some feelings, I suppose. not in attempt to draw the light away from anybody, but more like a reflection in response.

from the minute i discovered gvf it was almost like a breath of fresh air. in the time listening to them, as an aspiring musician, artist, writer, or whatever the fuck I am, I’ve found great solace and inspiration in the four boys we love so much. today, i found a piece of home within them, too, but more specifically, from Josh.

i grew up and, unfortunately, still reside in a little, homophobic town that is nothing if not dedicated to normalcy. it has been a devastating twenty years of life knowing that my existence is abnormal to others, including some family and friends, and they would prefer if i remain quiet about it. ive lost friends, family, acquaintances, you name it, just because i was born the way i am. just the other day, there were news reporters in front of my apartment building seeking opinions on a lgbtq+ bill for youth passed by the government. that’s right, opinion, on the human rights of very real children that walk on the same streets they were spewing their hate on.

I’ve always been quite comfortable with who am sexuality-wise. from a very young age, to now, it has never been a debate or shameful idea to me. I’ve been very loud and proud, and will remain so. my gender, not so much. less than a month ago, i finally voiced my proper pronouns to the first person ever, after years of struggle with it. i still haven’t told family, or properly ‘came out’ (because, if you know me, you would know that i think the whole idea of coming out is quite ridiculous) and i have no plans on doing so in any intimate manner. but, today, a bit of courage bled into me from one of the people I look up to most, and i told a bit more of the world about myself.

to say i am beyond proud of josh for his transparency is not enough. what he did, although some would disagree, was one of the most courageous things a person in any type of spotlight could do. i surround myself with only a few people, and i have yet to find the power within myself to tell the closest to me, who i am. what i am more moved by, is that he used his platform to not only make himself known, but vocally and actively join an ongoing battle that many believe is already over. he was already such a beacon of light and love, that i did not believe he could be any more so. today, i happily admit that the idea was wholly untrue. not because of his sexuality or anything like that; he’s still the same Josh he has always been. but because his own moral was so strong that he, without fear, showed an intimate part of himself to the entire world, and guided others on how to help the cause in the process. it is admirable to be proud of who you are, but even more so to educate and inspire others while doing it.

being so vulnerable, especially in the public eye, is terrifying. being a beacon of light and love in a world full of hate and darkness is also terrifying. he did both today with grace and strength, and as someone who’s been actively fighting this fight for my entire lifetime, i am beyond words. i said a lot of things here, but nothing can truly amount to how i feel. i cannot articulate the feelings accurately, and in place of that, i ramble.

basically, if you stuck through this, thanks. if you use this angels sexuality against him in any way, i will find you. if this changed the way you view him, you didn’t deserve him in the first place. together, these four boys have created a community of love and all things that come with it; if you are not willing to give it back to them, or right now, him specifically, this is not the place for you. remember, as proud/happy/whatever you’re feeling about this, he’s still a person. the same one who you knew months ago, who worked to create the community and music we love and appreciate. that did not change, and there is no need to view him any differently. im certain that if he’s been so private about this for so long, he does not want the world to see him only as such.

so, from the bottom of my heart, the message of my rambling is to say im proud of him, and that im incredibly grateful for the chance to live in the same time as him. I’m even more thankful that his courage has given me some, too. be respectful of him and his privacy, because he is deserving of such (and much more). and, if you also find a piece of his courage within you, im proud of you, too.

as always, be kind, thanks for reading, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes ;) 🫶🏻

[minimoefoe]

on series 14: I kinda lumped it together with the 60th special because I have only been hearing news and am unable to properly place them with one or the other. Here are the things I am mainly concerned about:

RTD bringing back everyone from last time and (apparently?) actively keeping new talent at bay. Moffat and Murray Gold are the biggest names and yes I loved their work and yes I understand they're buddies. But the thing I liked about Chibnall's era was the attempt to let more diverse voices speak as writers and directors. Both rtd1 and Moffat era have flaws (chibnall's too obv, but I don't think he will be involved from now on?) and we should have learnt from them. The biggest takeaway should have been that we need more input from different writers/directors/people in charge of decisions. And so far it seems like series 14/the 60th is actively preventing that. Also, Murray Gold's music is amazing but we've had 10 series of that. We could give someone else a chance! (This rejection of change is my main point of concern tbh but it's a big one)

Conected to that I am concerned about racism. Especially rtd1 is - not great with that. And we'll be having our first full-time black Doctor. Luckily, it sounds like Ncuti was able to add to the role and decide some things. But if everybody writing for him is white? (not saying that they are but I've yet to hear the opposite) I am afraid how that will go down. There's already been that unfortunate (to put it lightly) bit about the announcement in a twitter post and the wrong regeneration plus numbering issue, making Ncuti be overshadowed by both David and Millie. That's not a good start. So, I sincerely hope they will do better from now on but as I said, reason for concern.

Again, connected to that. Rose. Oh God. I hope the name is just a coincidence that will go without further comment. Do not have a second woman of colour be forced into the shadow of Rose Tyler. Please.

Ruby. I actually thought Rose would be travelling with the Doctor, so in the beginning I was just confused. And since then I've been kinda bored? I mean, Millie's sweet. But I was hoping for an alien companion. Or a proper old companion. Or a literal child. Or a single male companion. Or a black companion. Literally anything but yet another young, white woman. We've had that so many times now? But like, honestly, this is a weaker concern. I'm still hoping she might be an alien after all and even if she isn't, it'll be fine. I've loved every single companion until now, I'll love her, too.

The clothes. There's the obvious thing with the regenerating suit but also the other outfits have left me kinda baffled? Since when does the Doctor know how to dress? But I mean, maybe it's an incarnation thing or maybe Ruby is just a really good influence. I'll take it, at least it looks beautiful.

Several of the things happening ( the regenerating suit, the old writers+Gold, the way press has been handling it (!) ) , also feels to me like they're trying very hard to forget about Chibnall Who. To make it seem like it never happened. Maybe that's paranoia but I think there were some really beautiful takeaways from 13 and her run (first and foremost how explicity nonbinary the Doctor is) that I am afraid might get erased/hidden now. I mean, canon is flexible in dw anyway and that's a good thing. But 13 is important to me and I want her to be honoured and remembered suitably.

Now, as I said, these are merely concerns. Not unfounded, I guess, but I am ready for the show to prove me wrong. I hope series 14 will be everything we hope for and that I'll be able to laugh about my ridiculous fears from above once it takes off. But, well, for now I remain only very cautiously optimistic.

Okay yeah, in terms of ppl working on the show, I agree that there's vibes of them making RTD2 have RTD1 vibes. I think the main RTD1 team being back makes some amount of sense bc I guess RTD just likes to work with the same group of ppl and they presumably all work at Bad Wolf together, and Moffat potentially doing an ep or two won't bother me as long as the line up of writers isn't just made up of returning writers (which I'd like to think it won't be). Murray Gold being back is probably the thing I'm most not happy about bc I think it's idk, cowardly? lazy? boring? to decide to bring him back instead of seeking out new talent. I saw some ppl be like 'well we need someone who we know can do good DW music' and I'm like... why are you acting like composers are rare as hell like I'm sure there's plenty out there that would've loved to work on Doctor Who but now they don't have the chance bc RTD brought back the same guy whose already done 10 seasons. I don't think it's the end of the world bc yeah I like Gold's stuff too but there will always be part of me, regardless of how good his new stuff is, that will be a bit bitter than RTD didn't get someone new in for S14 onwards. I think it makes sense for Gold to do the 60th, that's kinda fun, but past that it's like... why.

I defo agree about the racism concern. RTD1 isn't great with it at all. I always think about that bit in The Shakespeare Code where Ten tells Martha to walk around like she owns the place and the fact it's in an era ran by the person who is now in charge of our first main black Doctor. The general treatment of both Martha and Mickey is awful at times as well. I think I'm just kinda assuming/hoping that he's grown/learnt over the last however many years and will take more care with things. Bc I am interested to see how being black effects how the Doctor is able to get by in some situations and if we get some Shakespeare Code bs every time he's in that kind of situation I'll lose my mind a little bit. and yeah if RTD doesn't bring in at least a couple of black writers that will be genuinely weird as hell imo. Like even if the Doctor wasn't black, I think it's important for the show to keep trying to bring in diverse writers, new talent, etc, but especially now that the Doctor is black, a big ass team of white writers would be odd.

Honestly I think no matter why Rose Temple-Noble is called Rose - if it's a coincidence put in there purely for 14 to have a shock reaction or if it has some explanation within the story - I think RTD casting a black trans woman and naming her character Rose is ridiculous and I'll never be fully on board with it. There's literally been articles calling her Rose Tyler and imo it's very possible it has just increased the amount of hate Yasmin Finney has had thrown her way bc ppl don't like the idea of someone else (probably especially a black and/or trans woman) being called Rose or replacing Rose Tyler (even though that isn't what she's doing). I honestly find that interesting bc one of RTD's reasons for not wanting to have DT wear 13's outfit was bc he didn't want tabloids to run with it and stir up more transphobia but he has no issue casting the first trans actor in the show and giving her the name of one of the most beloved characters the show has ever seen??

Yeah I don't really feel much of anything towards Ruby rn. I'll probs like her once we see her in episodes bc I tend to like all companions but rn I'm just in awe at how unoriginal RTD has been in his character creation of a white blonde teenage girl who has a four letter name that means red and is, as far as I know, from London. Feels like 2005 all over again. the main thing that I've heard that I think sounds fun is how they've described 15 and Ruby's relationship as sibling-like.

14 not wearing 13's clothes is something I will be salty about forever and based on RTD's DWM explanation I think some of his reasoning for it was really not great despite what he says about it being out of concern for giving tabloids a reason to be more transphobic than they already are. I'm not about to analyse what he said rn bc this is getting long enough but the vibes are off imo. 15 is definitely way too fashion conscious like yeah the outfits for the most part look great but they don't scream Doctor to me at all. I also don't love that he so far doesn't seem to have a signature outfit, he's always in something different.

Tbh I think chances are the big step away from 13's eras that seems to be happening is probably bc RTD wants his new era to feel like a good stepping in point for the show (which is a thing I can't stand) but it doesn't worry me too much bc the show has obviously done that kinda thing before.

There's a couple things I will always be not too happy about but yeah most stuff atm is very dependant on how things go over the next year-ish. I'm really hoping all of these concerns just get washed away and RTD2 is amazing, and tbh I'm hopeful that it will be amazing and most of this stuff will end up not being an issue, but I don't think that means we're not allowed to have these thoughts rn yknow? Like I'm more than capable of changing mind as more info comes out and I'll gladly do that for these things.

[worldguardian]

@landscapingfan said: was there a mistake in CoM? i wasn't aware of that (but im also not hugely informed about it, i only played it once)

so CoM had a lot of goofiness in it, largely people acting very out of character and also the fact that the player character didn’t really need to be involved at all but much of the OOC-ness can be put down to a combination of the writers having to try and distribute dialogue evenly amongst every character, thus no single character really got to have a properly big, fleshed out speaking role (aside from azzy, zaros, and arguably kharshai),

and also the fact that two of those aforementioned major characters were probably not in the best place mentally for the duration. zaros having to recall the betrayal and azzy having to not only relive that through their bond, but also literally relive it through divination memory shit wouldn’t have been the greatest time for them, ya dig!

but anyway i’m blathering. i could talk a lot about CoM.

the big “mistake” in CoM was, like i sort of mentioned, something that you could actually work with. you could either ignore it outright or find other things in-canon to explain it with to make it Less Stupid.

the mistake was two-fold: the reveal that zamorak had been there personally when seren came to the mahjarrat posing as mah and taught them the rituals. right from the off, this reveal COMPLETELY fucks the timeline of mahjarrat history. it makes zamorak - and by extension, almost every other mahjarrat, because zamorak is one of the oldest - either WAY older or WAY younger (we’ll get to that) than you would otherwise suspect. this also naturally necessitates that azzy was there for this moment as well, since he’s The oldest.

first of all, the idea that any currently living mahjarrat was alive for this thing that supposedly happened so far in their culture’s past that none of them even believe mah is real anymore is just capital-f Fucking Stupid. this cultural turning point that shaped their entire history and put them down the path of becoming the bloodthirsty, violent, warlike species that they are today? the thing that happened so far into their species history that it’s literally part of their own creation myth by the present day?

nah lmao not only did that happen within living memory, it didn’t even happen within living memory of the oldest member of their species, because:

BILRACH WAS THERE TOO.

this is the second part of this mistake, and instead of being the result of just not thinking the implications of things through like the first bit, this part is directly because of NOT KNOWING THEIR OWN FUCKING LORE.

everything wrong with “zamorak was there when seren taught them the rituals” so far can either be ignored or teeth-grittingly headcanoned into making sense. but the mere addition of bilrach popping in to say “hey i remember that shit too! i was there!” fucks it ALL THE WAY INTO THE STRATOSPHERE

why?

because bilrach is one of the youngest mahjarrat! in mahjarrat memories, bilrach is described as being young by the time of the move to gielinor. combine this with khazard probably being the only mahjarrat born on gielinor, and that makes bilrach like, the second or third-youngest mahjarrat!

so if he was there too then this shit happened like barely ten thousand years ago! so not only is zamorak way younger than you’d think, but so is azzy, the guy who’s so brain-breakingly old that even the other mahjarrat find his age incredible!

WHAT THE FUCK!

there is seriously so much that this one singular decision fucks up that i could keep at this for several paragraphs more but i’ll spare you because god damn. unfortunately they hardcore doubled down on this in future updates in way that made it CATASTROPHICALLY MORE STUPID because this one flub makes anything else based on it go to shit

end rant

[saarasabaku]

DMC OC Week Day 3

Day 3

Saara’s past is a tragic one so this is gonna get a bit angsty TW/CW: Murder, Killing, Death, Violence, War, Experimentation, and more glimpses into Saara's Mental Illness and PTSD

Past:

Saara was born an extremely powerful child, bursting at the seams with Chaos. A power in which she inherited from her Father. Unfortunately her tiny baby body could not adequately contain such overwhelming strength, due to the fact that she was not a full blooded Primordial. And so in a bid to save his child, Saara’s Father placed a magical seal upon her power, thus preventing it from destroying her. Incidentally, this action also created the first ever DT. However, this also limited Saara’s ability to properly control her Chaos for quite a long time but as time goes on, the weaker the seal gets…

Saara’s childhood was fairly normal, well, as normal as a Demon’s life can be.

She would train in different disciplines with her Father and spend a lot of time learning the histories and wonders of the Demon World with him. With her Mother Saara would learn to garden and how to wield her lightning with deadly precision.

At least until… The war.

It was a long and bloody affair, practically erased from all but the oldest Demons memory. The Dark Prince, Mundus, a rowdy upstart at the time, decided he was far more fit to rule the Primordials. To him they were weak, soft, because they cared rather than commanded with fear. And for this he condemned them, to Mundus there was only one kind of strength and that was through control.

“The War of the Fallen…”

“One by one the Primordials fell till only two remained. My Father, Belial the First Demon and his sister.”

“Space and Chaos. Time and Creation. The first in the universe became the last of their kind…”

“Through trickery, deceit, and a love lost, so were they…”  “Broken children, abandoned and forgotten was all they left behind…”  

“But I refuse to be just a memory…” 

Saara was the one to bear witness to the near end of her race. Mundus slaughtered her Mother to weaken her Father, dealing the killing blow even before Sparda’s sword reached Belial’s neck. 

“I love you, my child. Be strong and live well. Remember always you are The Chaos… Make them all fear your name…” 

“His last word to me… Just another thing to haunt me with…”

After The War:

When the battles were long over, Saara was left alone, hiding in her home. 

A loyal friend of the family came searching for any sign of where the little Primordial had gone. Fortunately, Saara had listened to her Mother when she had told her to stay put. This made finding and taking her somewhere safer much easier. Unfortunately, after quite a lot of running it seemed such a place could never exist so long as Saara could be easily discovered as one of the Fallen (Mundus’ name for the Primordials after the war.)

To remedy this she was taken to a place, an experimentation facility, where they specialized in giving weaker Demons an extra power boost through alchemy. 

The friend of the family figured this as the only solution to protect the child left behind by the ones they held so dear. For months Saara endured many torturous rituals and experiments, all to try and hide her true lineage from those who would wish her harm. 

The blood of the young Primordial was far too strong for any other Demonic essence to take hold, making the process take far longer and far more arduous than it should have been. In the end Saara had finally been weakened enough for the blood of a Demon to take hold, successfully muddying her genes enough to hide them. This lowly Demon would also be the same one to take Saara in and raise her. 

That Demon was Berial, Conqueror of the Fire Hell. 

Long before he was the ruler, he was weak, so much so that the Prince of Darkness would not take notice of him. The perfect place for little Saara to hide, right under Mundus’ nose. The facility managed to acquire Berial’s blood to use as a component in the experimentation for this very reason. 

Once Saara was recovered enough she was moved to the Fire Hell and given to Berial, he was looking for a protege and felt bonded to Saara once he saw her at the facility. 

Just as planned.

While with him she was raised to be the perfect successor and was taught everything that would entail.

A Never-ending Void: 

Saara’s teenage years were spent mostly learning, growing in power. 

She honed her skills to a deadly point, training constantly to be the best, to feel worthy of the Birthright she inherited the day her kind was slaughtered.

The Primordials would rise again through her but first she would get her vengeance.  

However, none of this made the void in her soul grow any smaller.

Saara didn’t feel worthy, deadly or anything else, all she could feel was the nothingness of her failure. Mundus had taken everything from the young Primordial, leaving only guilt and regret.

“I lost them all…” “I am alone…” “Bondless…” “I could not protect them…” “I should have been able…” You are weak. A failure. No one could ever want a broken little thing like you. But you’ll seek them out anyway, won't you? Who are- The truth you hide

Saara’s young adult years are not really something she likes to remember although her mind will never let her forget them…

“This… Is a point in my life that… was not… great…” “I… did things… to myself and to others that were not…” “Nothing I did filled the void that gnaws away at me constantly…” “I can no longer feel much physical pain but the mental toll is still… There.” “I cannot escape the screams, the monsters that haunt my dreams…” “I wake up every night wishing the pain would just… disappear.” “Knowing full well it never will…” 

Eventually Saara leaves the Demon World to finally exact her revenge, but ends up making a bit of a name for herself as a Devil Hunter whilst doing so. 

None of this gets the Primordial the vengeance she so craves but she does end up finding a decent of Sparda instead. They fight, speaking in the only way either knows how. 

The Exchange of Blades:

Vergil Sparda, the eldest son of the Legendary Dark King Sparda.

One of Two but the other was unimportant for now.

Saara had finally tracked down Sparda, but all her leads went nowhere, until one didn’t.

She followed this one as if her life depended on it and eventually it bore fruit. 

The Primordial had found the son of the being she so despised and without much of a word they fought. Blade meeting blade, a conversation where no words need be said.

They made their intentions known to each other, their emotions on full display.

The battle ended in a draw, Saara was still very young and the seal on her power had not yet loosened enough for her to overpower the young Sparda.

But all that needed to be said was.

“Where is he?!”

“Who?”

“Your Father!”

“My… Dead.”

“... Dead…”

“I… Am a failure once again it seems…”

Saara’s anger dissipated upon hearing those words, only despair was left.

“What… Did my Father do?”

“Ha as if you do not know…”

“I do not.”

“You do not lie… But you cannot help me now.”

“Your Father murdered mine, him and that createn Mundus.”

“I despise them both but their sins are not yours… I have no quarrel with you, Son of Sparda.”

“Vergil.”

“Vergil…”

“I cannot make right the sins of my Father but it seems to me we have a similar enemy…”

The young Sparda felt it best to tell the truth of it, no need to hide.

“I see… Mundus has wronged you as well… Killed someone important to you and threatens the life of someone else you care for… Do I have the right of it?”

Vergil was taken aback at Saara’s ability to read him so well but he did not feel threatened by it.

“Correct…”

“Hmm it seems we are much too similar, Son- Vergil.”

“You may call Saara, I will lend you my aid.”

[augment-techs]

Billy/Skull

AU: Moving into a Haunted House

Emoji: 🎭

-The house is a contemptible Victorian model that needs to be restored with only the best materials. The ghosts sliding between rooms, among the rafters, through closets, in and out of windows won't have it any other way. -The strongest ghost likes to make Irish Car Bombs (a very nice liquor blend with lavender flavor and brandy) for the new owner, Billy, when the young man gets back from work in the middle of the night. They put him right out and he never wakes up to find the glass, because it’s always on the drying board full of lemon water next to the fresh toast in the morning. -Billy has met the three slightly weaker ghosts in the day time that are definitely not the ones making sure he is taken care of. -Kimberly died in the 1890′s, shot through with an arrow on the ground by a child in fields that used to be behind the house aiming for a sparrow; she didn’t hold it against him, and wasn’t vengeful. Billy liked her, but it was a little disconcerting to see this extremely pale young woman float around in a sleep dress with a hole in her chest display such a...sunny disposition. -Tommy died flying for his life from some assholes building a railway that had a problem with him and his brother being native in a gold rush town. He pushed his brother out of the way of a racist piece of shit with a gun and hit his head on a rock before he felt the shot. He was a bit more somber than Kim, but got blushy the moment Kim found something new age Billy brought home and started asking a million questions. -Aisha was a perfectly wonderful young woman who was unfortunate enough to be outside during a record breaking lightning storm in 1985 with her best friends...who saw her get struck by a dead tree blown apart by a direct hit from a lightning bolt. They sometimes drop by after clearing it with Billy with a spare key to see her and just hang out; just talk and listen to what’s going on with her--her listening to what’s going on with them. Just vibing when Billy’s trying to repaint the dining room. -When Billy finally, properly, met the ghost that had been trying to take care of him, he almost had a heart attack because the guy who delivered the perfect cleaning fluid for the hardwood actually called the ghost out by name and he appeared instantly. -The ghost was Eugene Skullovitch, a friend Billy had when they were in diapers throughout junior high who he lost touch with just as they entered high school. Bulk was there for him right up until he wasn’t, due to Skull’s dad picking him up one day after school and him never coming back. It turned out the father had killed him because he found out he liked boys; it started out as one of those gay bashing things to “teach him a lesson” that went way too far.  -Billy tore the place apart when he realized Skull was buried somewhere in the place; he just couldn’t remember where.

[cherienymphe]

Bloodied Crowns (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, STEPCEST, murder, violence, abusive realtionships, Tony x reader, prince!Peter, king!Tony, queen!Reader

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ based off of this ask

summary:  When your husband, King Anthony, is killed in a coup staged by his son from his previous marriage, Peter, you are forced to marry the young man who no longer feels the need to hide his feelings.

~

Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, the stern monarch losing his wife only a few months prior. The engagement and the wedding happened so quickly, and before you knew it, you were married to King Anthony Stark. Truth be told, you’d feared that you’d never marry at all, and that you’d bring shame to your name, but a stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had put you directly into the king’s path.

Your family had attended the queen’s funeral to pay your respects. It had been drilled into you to catch the eye of an available suitor, as it had been many times before, and while you were disgusted that you could not even properly pay your respects to the royal family, you understood your parents’ desperation. You were twenty-eight with no prospects on the horizon. They had no other children, no sons, your mother unable to conceive after yourself, and so the weight of carrying on the family name was solely on your shoulders.

Your family was not poor by any means, but you were far from wealthy. That being said, your mother spent an outrageous amount to get you the most captivating black dress money could buy. It was not something that would draw too much attention, but enough so that you did not look like a grieving widow yourself. When it was your turn to pay your respects, you recalled bowing to the young prince, the brunette barely acknowledging anyone’s presence. It was rumored that he and his mother were close, that he’d taken her death very hard, and the way he seemed to stare right through you confirmed as much.

When you bowed to the king, apologizing for his loss, you could feel his eyes on you. This was nothing you concerned yourself with. After all, you were speaking to him and he you, but when you rose, you were taken aback by the intensity you found in his dark eyes. Where his son seemed to look through you, the king could not seem to take his eyes off of you. No one else seemed to notice, and, brushing it off, by the time you returned home, you had forgotten all about it.

Until a few days later when a royal guard was at your door. You were being invited to dine with the king, the invitation extending to your family as well, and although you were confused, you knew you could not refuse. Even if you wanted to. The dinner was nice, and you were a bit surprised at how easy it was to get along with the king. You never thought him cruel, but you’d heard that he was a rather stern man. After supper, he extended the invitation to staying at the castle so that you would not have to travel back so late in the evening. Your mother answered before you had the chance to, and it was no surprise to you that the answer was yes.

The castle was so different during the night. It seemed less welcoming and more ominous, and you found it hard to sleep that night. Convinced that the corridors would be empty, you quietly slipped from your chambers and made your way down to the kitchens. There were still a few servants lingering about, cleaning or preparing for the next day. You felt guilty for bothering them for something to drink.

“Nonsense, my lady. I would be more than happy to get that for you,” a younger girl by the name of Guinevere told you.

“Oh...please,” you waved her off. “No one is around. Call me Y/N.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle as you told her your name, but she said nothing more as she gave you your water. The dark corridors did not scare you, but the eerie silence was a bit off putting, especially in such a grand structure. You had turned the corner to make your way back to your room when you bumped into none other than the prince. You had almost dropped the drink, and you placed your hand on your chest in an attempt to still your heart.

“Your highness. My apologies, I did not see…”

Your words died in your throat as the prince fixed you with a look that made your stomach churn. You snapped your mouth shut, swallowing as he simply glared at you, brown eyes looking so much darker. You had not seen him since the queen’s burial, and he did not look much better than he did then. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he had shoved past you, almost making you drop the goblet in your hand, and a low gasp escaped you as your other shoulder harshly met the wall. You turned to watch him go, shock and confusion pouring through you, wondering what you had done to offend him so.

It was only a few weeks later did you get your answer.

“I...I beg your pardon?”

The king reached for your hand, a soft breeze ruffling his dark hair as he brought it to his lips. They were soft as they brushed over your skin, and the corner of them curved upwards into a smile.

“Everything is already being arranged, but...this is my formal proposal. I need a queen, Peter needs a mother, and you are everything I could have hoped for,” he told you.

You stared at him in shock, feeling as if the world had been ripped out from beneath your feet. Your mind whirled as you tried to make sense of this and where this had come from, and suddenly, the puzzle started to piece together. The countless dinner invitations, the gleam in your parents’ eyes, the hushed conversations...the prince’s animosity. You were being courted by the king this whole time...and you’d been none the wiser. His chuckle pulled you from your thoughts.

“When your mother told me that you could be quite oblivious, I thought that it was a simple exaggeration.”

He found humor in your distress, you realized, and you swallowed.

“I do not know what to say,” you slowly breathed, and you watched him tilt his head at you, a frown beginning to form.

“You say yes,” he said with a scoffing laugh as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

You realized that to anyone else, it would be.

“Your majesty...I feel as if we’ve only just met. Surely, you would allow me time to think-.”

“Think about what?”

His hand tightened on yours, and you winced. He leaned in, genuine confusion in his dark eyes as he stared into your own.

“I am a king telling you that you are to be my queen...and you are hesitant?”

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on you. Anthony was a king. You were a mere lady attempting to refuse his proposal for marriage, and your heart sank to your stomach. You blinked at him, and his face suddenly smoothed over as he sighed.

“Ah. I understand what this is about…”

“You do…?”

He softly smiled at you, reaching up to brush his thumb along your chin.

“You come from an acceptable background. You are beautiful and smart and kind. I assure you, this is genuine. This is not some poor attempt to cope with my grief. In all honesty, my marriage to the queen was over long before she died,” he told you.

You looked away, realizing that you were not getting out of this. Whether you liked it or not, you would be marrying the king, and with reluctance and a shaky voice, you accepted his proposal. He straightened when you did, a look of satisfaction on his features, and he looked as if he wanted to kiss you. You were thankful that he did not.

The wedding took place only a couple of months later, every nearby royal, and even some across the water, in attendance. It was a grand and beautiful affair, no expense spared, and it was days later that you found out it far outshined his first wedding. You remembered feeling sick as you walked down the aisle, the feeling only getting worse as your gaze met that of the prince.

In the time since the official engagement, you had interacted with the prince only a handful of times. Each time more disastrous than the last. You told yourself that he was grieving. His mother’s death was sudden and had hit him hard and here his father was, marrying again so soon. You did not fault him for his cold behavior. He was young, after all. You would expect nothing less, to be honest, but you could not lie and say that it did not hurt.

Unfortunately, even after the marriage, he did not soften towards you. Every attempt to get to know him was met with nothing short of loathing, and you finally accepted that he would come around in his own time. The last thing you wanted Peter to think was that you were trying to replace his mother. You did not know how long this would go on, but you did not expect it to be more than a year. 

You were wrong.

“I throw that kid the best birthday celebration a nineteen year old could ask for and this is how he shows his appreciation? By not even having the decency to show up?”

Tony was angry as he sipped from his goblet, glaring down at the attendees dancing below. A wonderful number was being played by a string quartet, several single princesses in attendance, and an hour into the celebration, Peter was still absent. You placed your hand on your husband’s arm with a sigh.

“I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, Tony. He will show,” you tried to assure him.

His shoulders sagged as he slammed his drink down, and his eyes softened as he turned to you. He reached for you, and you flinched, but he paid it no mind as he brushed his finger along your cheek.

“You are far too nice to him...and he hardly deserves it,” he whispered.

“He’s your son,” you reminded him with a frown. “Do not talk about him like that.”

“He’s ungrateful,” he spat.

“He’s grieving,” you argued.

“It’s been a year,” Tony sneered. “How much time does he need?”

You sharply turned away, swallowing a sigh as anger flared within you. Sometimes Tony could be so insensitive, amongst other things, and it baffled you. Peter lost the only mother he ever knew, and Tony was treating it as if it was something minor. After a few more moments, you excused yourself under the guise of needing some air. In truth, you were determined to track down the prince.

It was not a hard task. He tended to frequent the same places when he called himself hiding. You found him deep within the grounds, lounging on a branch high up in the tree. It was getting late, the sun currently setting, and you held up the skirts of your dress as you trudged towards him. You knew that he heard you, and you resisted the urge to sigh as you stood below him. Your heart ached for him as you could not even begin to imagine what he was going through. After all, you still had both of your parents.

“Peter,” you eventually called.

He yet again pretended as if he had not heard you, a hurtful habit of his, and this time you did sigh.

“Peter, please come down. Your father is concerned about your whereabouts, and...and I am concerned about you. I-.”

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking I care about how you feel?”

His tone was cold, venom coating every word, and your heart clenched. He rarely spoke to you, every time he did as cold as today, but this was different. You were unsure of what to say, and before you had the chance to remedy that, he was hopping down. It was a bit cool out, and his coat flared behind him as he strode towards you, face hard and nostrils flared.

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking that I care about you at all?”

You reared back, staring at him with wide eyes. His words hurt, that you would not deny, and as much as you fought against it, you could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes. You swallowed, briefly glancing down as you took a step back.

“Peter-.”

“My mother was not even in the ground properly before you came sniffing around my father like a bitch in heat,” he sneered.

Your lips parted, wide eyes staring at him in shock at his words. You had never seen him look so hateful, borderline murderous, and you suddenly realized that this was about more than grief.

“P-Peter...that… That is not what happened-.”

“Isn’t it?” he wondered, taking another step towards you. “Do you think me stupid? Blind? You think I have never known of the way so many women prayed on my mother’s downfall?”

“I never-.”

“Do you think that I do not know that you all came to her funeral not as mourners, but as vultures? As desperate snakes trying to slip your way into my father’s bed so that you may take her place?”

“No! That is not what happened-!”

“You are no different from the rest!”

He was practically upon you now, glaring down his nose at you with so much disgust it finally made the tears spill over.

“I always knew that you were a desperate and conniving whore…”

You gasped, more tears falling at his insult. He raised one dark eyebrow at you.

“...but I never took you for a liar too.”

You were frozen as he looked you over one last time before breezing past you. You shook, unable to stop the tears, and you felt like you were going to be sick. You had no idea that Peter’s disdain was in fact not misplaced due to grief, but was instead as genuine as could be because he thought you to be something you were not. This knowledge made your heart hurt, and it turned out that you were not as adept at hiding your feelings as you thought.

“What troubles you so?” Tony wondered later that night, his hand on your shoulder as you sat at your vanity.

“Whatever do you mean?” you asked with a small smile.

His gaze met yours in the mirror, and the way his jaw clenched told you that he did not have much patience tonight. His fingers pressed into your skin, and you swallowed. You looked away, eyes blurring a bit as you recalled Peter’s cruel words.

“Peter hates me,” you confessed.

You heard Tony heave a sigh, and you turned to look up at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he rolled his eyes.

“That kid hates everyone and everything,” he replied.

“No, Tony. You do not understand. He believes me to be something I am not. He thinks that I schemed my way into marrying you, that I am trying to replace his mother-.”

“Peter will be just fine. He will grow to get over it in time,” was his enlightening reply, and you stood.

“But it is not true. Tony, does this not bother you? Because it bothers me! He should be like a son to me. He should be looking to me for guidance and care, and he curses the very ground I walk on. It hurts,” you spat, wrapping your arms around yourself. 

Tony’s entire demeanor softened, and he pulled you into his arms. He pressed his lips to your cheek, and you winced at the soreness before he took your chin in between his fingers. He tilted his head at you.

“I love that you’ve grown to really care about him. It warms my cold heart…”

You forced a chuckle at that.

“...but Peter has always been a bit difficult when it comes to me and anything in relation to me. His mother is really the only person he ever really connected with. This will pass, I assure you.”

You reluctantly accepted that Tony just did not care about this as much as you did, and likely never would. Against your better judgement, you opted to let it go, and softly exhaled when Tony pressed his lips to your jaw. He trailed kisses down your neck, tightening his arms around you.

“As much as I enjoy your big heart, I would rather not spend the rest of the night discussing my troubled son,” he murmured, lips finally finding yours.

You did not know if you would ever grow used to making love to Tony. The only time he had ever been anything close to gentle was on your wedding night, and you had still cried, waking up sore and bruised. It eventually dawned on you that this was simply how Tony was, but it did not mean that you had to like it. 

The years that passed did not improve things as you’d hoped they would. Tony was still the same as ever, and Peter was no different. Your conversations with the prince were rare, but every one was brief and left you with a paralyzing chill. When he was not speaking to you, his animosity was enough to force you to keep your distance. The hurt that his behavior caused never got any easier. 

“When you have a child of your own, this will mean nothing to you,” Tony would assure you.

However, it only did the opposite. Even though Peter was not your own, it did not mean that you viewed him any less, and you knew that would not change when you finally did have a child. Whenever that happened. You and Tony had been trying for years, and there was still nothing to show for it. It was a great source of stress for you both, but Tony was taking it much harder than you.

“They say that it took many tries before they were finally able to have Peter, and even afterwards...the queen was never able to conceive again,” Guinevere had whispered to you one night.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “How awful…”

The blonde girl had glanced around the busy kitchen before leaning in.

“The king will never admit it, but many believe that he was the problem, and considering he is experiencing the same thing with you…”

Your heart sank as she trailed off, and despite everything, you found yourself feeling sorry for your husband. Many would argue that you should feel sorry for yourself. After all, it was a popular opinion that the woman’s womb was always at fault, and kings have gotten rid of their wives for less, but you knew that Tony was far too possessive of you to ever do such a thing.

It was a subject you wished you could talk to Peter about. He knew his father far better than you did, and sometimes you wished you could get some insight on how to make this better for him, but Peter was disgusted by your very presence. There came a time when you reluctantly accepted that it might always be this way, but everything changed when Peter was only a few weeks shy of his twenty-third birthday.

Tony, ever the showoff, was having a ball every week for five weeks straight leading up to the night. It was the second gathering when he had dragged you out of the great hall. His hold had been tight, steps hurried, and you forced yourself to swallow down the pain. The corridor was dimly lit and equally as empty, and tears of frustration were kissing your eyes.

“Tony-.”

“I saw you,” he spat.

“Saw me what? Saw me greet one of your friends? Because that is exactly what King Steven is to me and nothing more!”

His dark eyes were hard as he pressed his fingers into your arms, lip curled over his teeth as he sneered at you.

“He desires you. It is plain as day, and he has never been subtle,” he bit out.

“Somehow I am at fault for that? Steven is a bachelor in every sense of the word. That is how he is, and you know it-.”

“Yes, but I thought to myself, surely my loving wife would have the sense not to entertain his antics!”

“I was being polite,” you told him, wincing at his tight grip. “Just because you are only ever nice to people when you want something-.”

You swallowed your words with a sharp shriek, pressing your hand to your hot cheek as the tears finally spilled over. Your eyes were on the floor as Tony shook you, a scathing remark on his tongue, no doubt, when he suddenly stilled, swallowing whatever he was about to say. His sudden change confused you, and you hesitantly looked up only to realize that his gaze was not on you. You turned to find Peter standing just at the entrance of the corridor, his wide eyes on the two of you. 

Tony was quick in straightening you up, and you hurriedly looked away as he acknowledged Peter.

“Why are you not enjoying your celebration with your friends?”

It was a while before Peter responded.

“I noticed that you had slipped out, so I came to find you. I had hoped to continue our...conversation from earlier,” the prince answered.

When you turned back around, you avoided Peter’s eye, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. Tony’s hand was rubbing into your back as he responded.

“Of course. Sweetheart, you will excuse us, won’t you? Peter and I have much to discuss, and I am sure the other wives are missing your presence,” he said, turning to you.

He threw you a tense and threatening smile, and you shakily returned it with a forced one.

“Of course. I shall see you in there when you return. Peter,” you acknowledged as you hurried past him, avoiding his gaze still.

You did not return to the hall though, but instead made your way down to the kitchen. It was filled with servants, and Mary Jane gasped when she saw you. She and Guinevere were always joined at the hip, but the other girl had been ill for the last few days. The redhead dropped what she was doing, shooing another servant off of a stool before grabbing your arm.

“My God,” she breathed.

The other occupants tended to the food and drinks, much too used to seeing you down here twice a week or so. Mary Jane pressed a cold piece of steak to your face, and you hissed.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is swelling already, your majesty,” she said.

You shifted on the seat, holding the cold meat to your face as you shooed her off.

“I hardly notice how hard he hits anymore. It still manages to shock me every time though, and I have no idea as to why,” you whispered.

She was just about to reply when another voice rang throughout the kitchen.

“Everyone out.”

You turned with wide eyes, confusion tearing through you at the sight of Peter just at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone seemed to hesitate for a moment, worrying about the food, no doubt, before eventually heeding his order. Mary Jane, no stranger to your relationship with the prince, threw you a worrying look before being the last one out. Peter seemed to hesitate as well before huffing, quickly approaching you.

You moved to stop him, but he was already pulling the red meat from your cheek before you had the chance. He stared at your skin for a while before putting it back in place. You held it there as he leaned against the counter, a familiar look of anger on his boyish features.

“This is not the first time this has happened,” he murmured.

There was no need to respond. It was a statement, not an answer. The silence was heavy, thick with tension and filled with words unspoken. Outside of that night, this was the longest you had ever been alone with Peter, and the first time you did not feel uncomfortable in his presence.

“You did not want to marry my father...did you?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, lips parting to refute such a blasphemous statement, but no words came out. Words failed you. Peter was a smart young man, always had been, and you were sure that he would see through whatever lie you pieced together.

“Of course, it was not like you could refuse if you wanted to. He is a king, and you were a mere lady,” he said more to himself than you.

You sighed, putting the steak down as you stood.

“My father has never been kind to anyone in his life. I do not know why I thought you were an exception…”

“Peter… I do not want this to affect how you view your father, do you understand?”

He simply frowned at you, and you continued.

“He is not without his flaws, this is true,” you slowly said. “...but he is still your father. In his own way, he loves you and only wants what is best.”

Peter stared at you for a while before scoffing, a humorless laugh not far behind. He pressed his hand to the counter as he stared at you with a look of shock.

“My father does not deserve you,” he said, almost as if he could not believe it.

He chuckled again, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“All this time, I thought that the two of you deserved each other. I hated you...and now...now I just feel sorry for you. For both my father...and me…,” he quietly finished.

“Peter-.”

“I have been nothing but cruel to you, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the things that I have done...and the things that I have said.”

You blinked, convinced that you would never hear those words. They warmed your heart, and you looked away.

“It’s alright. You believed what you believed, and if I were in your shoes, I might have believed the same. Your feelings were valid, Peter,” you told him.

He blinked at you.

“I never wanted to replace your mother. That is still not what I desire...but I am here. I know that there is only a decade between us, but I have come to love you like a son despite everything.”

Peter’s eyes softened, and you could see the guilt there.

“I never wanted to rush you, even now, but I hope that you will view me the same one day. Tony is no longer your only parent, and I am always here.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held off.

“I should get back before your father comes looking for me,” you said, heading for the stairs. “Oh...and please refrain from provoking him.”

You looked to Peter.

“I may dislike him at times, but I do not want to send him to an early grave.”

Peter simply hummed, sending you a strained smile before you left him to find your husband.

You remained in the corridor as the angry voices bled through the door. Both Tony and Peter assured you countless times that their strained relationship was none of your concern, but it could not be helped. They had never had the best relationship, but if possible, it had soured even more over the years, and you were unsure of who to blame.

The minute Tony started to get more serious about grooming Peter for the throne, things had gone from tense and strained to borderline violent at times. Not only did the two have such opposing views when it came to how to run the kingdom, but your husband had been pushing the idea of marriage more and more lately. It had only gotten worse when Peter neared his twenty-fifth birthday, the party on that fateful day ending abruptly when Peter had stormed out.

You were pulled from your reverie when the door swung open. Peter was the first one out, and he held up a hand as you moved to approach him.

“Not now, Y/N,” he huffed, quickly striding down the corridor with a frustrated sigh.

Tony emerged not long after, and you moved to kiss him, knowing that it would soothe him for the time being.

“That boy will be the death of me,” he complained.

“You both provoke each other, and I do not know why,” you told him. 

“He has duties! He is twenty-five and nowhere near taking them seriously. It seems that he is determined to ruin me,” he spat.

You sighed.

“Would you like for me to talk to him?”

“You seem to be the only one he actually listens to, so by all means,” he gestured down the hall, face cloudy.

You patted his chest before leaving him, wondering if a day would come where you would be a functional family. You and Peter were nowhere near what you used to be, and for that you were eternally grateful, but his relationship with Tony was far worse than it had ever been, and you did not know how to even begin to fix it.

You found Peter sparring with his dueling instructor. The sound of clashing swords was loud, and you rounded the corner, wincing when Peter just narrowly missed a rather dangerous blow. He motioned for the other gentleman to stop once he spotted you.

“Come on his behalf, have you?”

“Peter,” you sighed.

He snapped at the other man.

“Give your queen a sword, will you? Come,” he was talking to you now. “Spar with me.”

You reluctantly accepted the other man’s sword, a grimace on your face as you stepped forward.

“I am a horrible dueling partner,” you complained.

“Nonsense, Y/N. You are far better than what you were a year ago,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Your heart sank a bit at the sound of your name, but it did not distract you from blocking the swing of his sword with your own. Peter smirked at you.

“See?”

“Peter, this is not why I am here,” you told him.

“Of course not,” he calmly said. “My father knows that between the two of you, you are the only one I actually respect. He believes that you have some sway over me...and I am not reluctant to admit that he is right.”

He blocked your blow, quick to do so again when you swung your sword down towards his legs. He eyed you, a bit of pride in his gaze.

“Very good,” he praised.

“I was hoping to talk you into agreeing to some sort of compromise with him. Any compromise, really.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh, spinning before bringing his sword down over his head. Your eyes were wide as you lifted your sword, the sound of them clashing meeting your ears.

“There is no compromising with that man. He is determined to bring this kingdom and all of its subjects to ruin, and he wishes for me to just stand back and watch. He does not hear a word I say,” he spat.

He swiped his sword at you, several times and in several different successions. Unable to keep up, you were not surprised when your sword was knocked from your hands. You did not flinch when the tip of his blade found your throat, confident that Peter would never hurt you. He pressed the tip further, eyes locked on yours, and you swallowed.

“Do you agree with him?”

“Of course not,” you honestly answered.

Peter lightly dragged his blade down your neck and towards the top of your dress, his eyes following its movement before he quickly snatched it away. He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue.

“You know I do not agree with how your father runs this kingdom, but I have no say. I never did. Believe it or not, Peter, you have much more influence than I do.”

He turned away with a disbelieving laugh.

“Somehow, I doubt that…”

“Look, I am going to say something that I know you are not going to like,” you suddenly said.

Peter did not respond, so you continued.

“I think that you should consider marriage.”

You saw him straighten at that, back tense, and you rushed to say something else.

“If Tony feels that you are taking your future seriously, then he will be more inclined to take you seriously.”

He turned to you with a withering look, and you rolled your eyes.

“Do not look at me that way. I am not saying that you have to marry some poor girl right away, but at least make an effort to look around, and show Tony that you are attempting to meet him halfway,” you advised.

Peter gave you a hard stare for the longest time before eventually rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Very well. You always do get your way, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your mouth parted for a moment before you snapped it shut, looking down. This did not go unnoticed by Peter, and he neared you.

“What is it, now?”

Your eyes met his, and you tried to hide your hurt, but it must have been clear as day. Peter’s entire demeanor softened, and he stuck his sword in the dirt, reaching for you.

“What is it?”

You exhaled.

“That...is another thing I had hoped to discuss with you.”

He frowned in confusion.

“You still refer to me by my name…” you watched as his face fell. “And I do not wish to rush you, I never have, but when you say my name...it makes me feel as if I am doing something wrong here.”

“You are not,” he rushed to assure you. “Believe me…”

“I do not want to replace your mother, but if I am doing something-.”

“It is merely a force of habit. That is all,” he interrupted. 

“You are sure…?”

“Positive,” he said with a small smile.

“...okay,” you said with a nod. “...and what will you be doing after this...?”

“I will be speaking with my father,” he reluctantly told you.

“Good,” you said, Peter bending to allow you to quickly peck his forehead. “...and please be polite. I hate the way you two provoke each other.”

He roughly exhaled.

“Yes...mother…,” he seemed to bite out, eyes on you.

You looked to him with wide eyes, heart swelling as your smile grew. You chuckled, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving him to finish his instruction.

Contrary to what you had hoped, your advice did not improve things. Now that Peter had agreed to at least looking for a wife, it just gave him and Tony one more thing to disagree on, and disagreements about the smallest of things only gave room for disagreements about more serious matters. Peter hated the way Tony ran the kingdom, and you could not fault him for that.

Meals were more tense than ever, and it soon became suffocating to be in the same room as father and son. You did your best to keep the peace between them but there was only so much you could do. Especially when the arguments would get so intense that you feared for them. Tony could get so angry, and while you had never known him to put his hands on Peter as he did you, it still worried you that he might one day. And Peter…

Sometimes Peter would get a look in his eye that chilled you to the bone. He would get so fed up with his father, lips pressed together as Tony tore into him, and you would see the younger man’s eyes flash with something you could not name. It was a look that terrified you and made him look like someone that was not Peter, at all. 

Tensions only mounted as your birthday neared. You did not want either of them involved in the party planning process, convinced this would be the final nail in the coffin. Truth be told, it was also for yourself as well. It allowed you to breathe better.

“The party is tomorrow night, and Peter has yet to have the last fitting for his attire,” you told Mary Jane as you stood.

“I can finish this up, your majesty, while you go find Peter,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! I am almost finished, anyway.”

“Wonderful! I shall return shortly. There are only so many places he could be at this hour…”

The corridors were scarcely occupied as you decided to check Peter’s chambers first, making your way to his wing of the castle. You were unsurprised to find them empty, and you quickly made your way outside. He had a habit of frequenting the grounds, the maze especially, and you were confident that you would find him there then. 

You had not been inside the maze for a while, but you remembered how to navigate it vividly. You were deep within it, somewhere in the middle perfectly between the beginning and the end when you stumbled upon a sight you were not prepared for.

At the other end of a long stretch, were a couple, far too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence. You felt your face heat up as you stumbled upon the lovers, and you were prepared to turn back when the young man lifted his head, familiar eyes meeting yours. A gasp escaped you, and you were frozen on the spot as Peter simply stared at you.

He did not break his gaze as he continued to thrust into the woman beneath him, who you absentmindedly recognized as Guinevere. Her eyes were closed, clinging to Peter as moans tumbled from her lips, and even though Peter was silent as he stared at you, the heat in his eyes was undeniable. Finally coming to your senses, you willed your feet to move, but you did not escape in time to miss the way Peter’s deep moan rang throughout the air.

Upon your return, you told Mary Jane that you were unable to find Peter. You did not want to think of the awkward encounter, and told yourself that the tailor had never been wrong before. You were positive that Peter’s attire would fit. You did not see the young man again until the following day, your birthday, and it was only an hour or so until your party. Tony was meeting with a few of his Lords when there was a knock on your chamber door.

You were quick to answer it, surprised to find Peter on the other side. You only felt uncomfortable for a moment before you took in his attire. You beamed, widening the door to allow him in.

“Oh, Peter, you look positively dashing!”

“Did you doubt that I would?” he smugly wondered.

You threw him a look.

“I swear, you are getting more and more like your father every day,” you told him with a chuckle.

“I got you something,” he suddenly said, and it was only then did you notice the box in his hand.

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening when he opened it to reveal the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. The ruby heart in the middle was positively blinding, standing out against the rest of the diamonds that made up the band. You pressed your hand to your chest, mouth parting.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Oh my… Peter, this is so sweet of you,” you told him.

“Well,” he started, setting the box aside as he took the piece of jewelry into his hands. “It is not every day that one turns thirty-six.”

He motioned for you to spin around, and you obliged.

“This might also double as an apology for yesterday. I regret that you had to see that,” he chuckled.

You joined him, waving him off.

“Nonsense, Peter. It was a bit of a shock, but nothing more. You are a young man, after all, and I could never fault you for doing what young men do. You are treating Guinevere well, I hope? She is a sweet girl.”

Peter groaned.

“Yes, Y/N.”

Your heart sank at the sound of your name, and you frowned a bit.

“I am treating her just fine,” he assured you.

You chose not to comment on his use of your name, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Would you ever consider marrying her?” you pushed.

Peter was quiet as he brought his hands over to lower the necklace at your neck. It was not one that rested at your décolletage, but at your throat instead, and your eyes widened a bit when he pulled it back. You reached up to your neck, forced to stumble back into his chest to keep from choking, relaxing a bit when he finally clasped it together.

“No,” was his simple answer. “It is not like that.”

He rested his hands on your shoulder, turning you around to admire you. His dark eyes took you in before finally focusing on the necklace, the corner of his lips lifting a bit. He pressed his finger to the ruby heart, drawing patterns over it before eventually stepping away.

“It looks great,” he told you.

“Thank you. We should track down your father before they start my own celebration without me,” you replied.

It was not long after that the three of you were entering the great hall, a smile on your face as everyone greeted you. Tony and Peter were at your sides, and both of their hands rested at the small of your back as they guided you to the royal table at the head of the room. Everyone only quieted down when you took your seats, and you looked down at the familiar faces with a smile.

Your attention was drawn to Peter as he stood, raising his glass as a servant came by to fill them. He only filled yours and Peters, but another quickly came to fill Tony’s. Once everyone’s glasses were filled, that was when Peter spoke.

“I would like to propose a toast…”

He turned to look down at you, dark eyes unreadable as he swallowed.

“...to the woman who loved me even when I did not deserve it.”

Your heart swelled as you smiled at Peter, so happy that you two had come this far.

“No one could ever replace my mother...and I would not want them to, but you, Y/N, you are the next best thing.”

Your eyes softened, realizing that while maybe Peter did not see you as something akin to a mother just yet, he still loved you, and that gave you hope. You could live with that for now. Peter’s eyes fell onto his father, and he suddenly smiled.

“...and to my father, the king. If it were not for you, Y/N would never have come into our lives.”

His voice was even, but his eyes glinted before he turned to the rest of the royal court, his glass held high.

“To the king and queen. Long may they reign,” his voice traveled over the room.

Everyone else repeated his words before taking a drink, you and Tony following suit. As you set your glass down, you watched, a bit concerned, as Peter swallowed all of his wine, a look of satisfaction on his face as he lowered his glass. You turned to Tony, prepared to ask him if he wished to say anything, just as he let out that first cough.

It sounded nasty, and you frowned, prepared to ask him if he drank too fast when he coughed again, blood staining his bottom lip. Your heart fell to your stomach, eyes widening as you reached for him, hands trembling. You were prepared to call for help when you noted the sound of several coughs reaching your ears, followed by screams.

When you turned towards the rest of the room, you saw every single one of the royal court coughing up blood, and you stood on unsteady legs as understanding dawned on you. You reached for Peter, your hand gripping his arm as fear and horror clung to you.

“P-Peter…”

You looked to him, but his face was stony as he looked down at everyone. The only people who were okay were you, Peter, the servants, and the few guards. You watched as Peter waved his hand, confusion filling you as two guards opened the door to let more in. You were frozen as they all drew their swords, stomach churning as you realized what was about to happen. You turned back to Peter, but he was already moving past you.

“Peter, what- what is happening? What are you doing?”

You lunged for him as he drew a dagger, hand fisted into his fathers hair to pull the struggling man’s head back.

“Peter, no!”

He shoved you away, right into the arms of a waiting guard, and you did not turn your head in time to miss the way he dragged the blade across his father’s neck. A scream left you, belonging to a voice that you did not recognize, and you continued to scream and cry as the guard backed up. Peter pointed at you, his father’s blood coating his hand, his face unrecognizable to you.

“Get her out of here…”

His eyes met yours, dark with a harmful intent that terrified you. Who was this man? He ran his eyes over you.

“...and do not let her get away.”

You fought against the guard as he dragged you away, kicking and screaming all the way. Your efforts did not even cease as you made it into the corridor, having been forced past the dead bodies of your friends and acquaintances. The guard towered over you and was easily double your size, so all of your efforts were useless. 

He only let you go when you reached Peter’s chambers, dragging you through the receiving chamber to toss you onto the floor of his bedchamber. The impact made your head spin, and by the time you pushed yourself to your feet, he was already pulling the door shut. You slammed your hands against it just as you heard it lock, and another sob threatened to escape you.

You had only ever been in Peter’s room a handful of times, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around. Your chest hurt, heart breaking as you recalled the way Peter had so callously taken his father’s life. Your husband was dead, and it was no secret that the man was far from perfect, but his absence scared you. What would become of you now? Why did Peter not poison you like the rest? God, had his feelings never changed, at all? Had he still secretly hated you this whole time and wanted to get some sick satisfaction out of killing you here?

You lost count of how many times you tried the door before moving to the balcony doors. They too did not budge, and you kicked them in frustration. You could barely form a coherent thought, and more tears spilled over as you realized just how alone you were. You did not understand anything. Why would Peter do this?

As you heard someone enter his receiving chamber, it occurred to you that you might get your answer.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he entered his chambers, and you stumbled back, afraid to take your eyes off of him. You watched as he locked the door behind him, and the sight of that made your face crumble.

“What have you done?” you shakily asked.

The room was quiet save for your soft sobs, and you flinched when Peter took a step forward. He did not look like the young man you knew. He stood there in the dark attire he had picked out for your birthday, looking every bit like the murderous man you now knew him to be. A dark strand of hair kissed his forehead, jaw clenched as he eyed you. It started to lightly rain outside, and your eyes fell to the blood on his hands.

His father’s blood.

“Have you come to kill me too?”

Finally, his face shifted, and he frowned at you.

“Kill you?”

Peter scoffed, laughing to himself as he tilted his head at you.

“You could not be farther from the truth…”

“Then what do you plan to do? What are you doing, Peter? I do not understand…”

“My father was going to run this kingdom into the ground. We both know it…”

You started shaking your head before he was even done.

“Something had to be done.”

“Not like this! You killed him- you killed everyone,” you cried.

“...and here I thought you would be thanking me,” he sneered.

“Thanking you?”

“Unless I was wrong, and you enjoy being slapped around,” he threw at you.

You felt as if you were just slapped then, and you pressed your back into the wall, tightening your arms around yourself.

“Not like this, Peter. Not like this,” you tearfully murmured.

The rain got louder, filling the otherwise silent room with some noise, and you flinched when lightning flashed, shedding light on the room and on Peter’s dark gaze.

“What will become of me? Did you ever think about that? I am the widow of a murdered king. A king murdered by his own son in a coup!”

“...and the future wife of the next one,” Peter calmly stated.

You froze, his words failing to make sense despite the fact that you heard him just fine. Something about them did not sound right, and your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping you.

“What...what did you just say?” you hesitantly questioned. 

Peter took another step towards you, and you slid along the wall...away from him.

“Do you have any idea how much it pained me to watch you with him?”

“Peter…”

You shook your head, still moving away as he moved closer.

“Do know what it was like to watch him mistreat you again and again only to turn around and reap the spoils of his marriage as if he had not just caused you harm only moments before?”

His voice was low, thick with something you were too disgusted to name. Your eyes were wide, filled with tears as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Peter’s feelings, his father’s murder...the two of you alone in a castle full of people that have proven their loyalty to him. Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, standing face to face with you, but now, eight years later, the young man towered over you.

He suddenly chuckled, and the sound terrified you more than anything now.

“I find it funny… My father was always telling me that royals take. We take what is ours. We take what we believe we should have. That is what we do, son,” he mocked. “We take.”

His cold eyes bore into yours as you stumbled away from him. In a circle the two of you went, and you pulled on the handle of the door as you pressed your back to it. Fresh tears spilled as it refused to budge.

“Now look. I have taken his life, I have taken his kingdom, and I have taken the woman he thought belonged to him-.”

He swallowed the rest of his words as you suddenly dived to the other side of the room. Peter followed, and you reached up to pull the portrait from the wall, tossing it at him only for Peter to evade it. You frantically crawled across the bed, kicking Peter in the chest as he reached for your ankle. You fell to your knees on the other side, running to the balcony doors with tears in your eyes.

Again, the doors would not budge, and you were prepared to throw yourself through the glass when Peter was suddenly there at your back. He enclosed you in his arms, and you reached back to fight against him and push him away, but he only pinned you between him and the glass. The sound of the thunder drowned out your screams, and you yelped in shock when he fisted a hand in your hair, yanking your head to the side.

Peter was determined to taste you, tongue and teeth brushing your skin as he ground himself against you. Nothing you did seemed to deter him, and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. The storm raged outside, wind pushing rain against the window. One of Peter’s hands dragged up your leg, pushing the skirts of your dress with it, and you slammed your hands against the window, attempting to push back.

This only egged him on, and he moaned in your ear.

“Peter, please,” you begged

You could feel the air against you, and your efforts to get away only increased when you felt him moving to release himself. The hand in your hair moved to your neck, cutting off your airway as he pulled your head back to rest against him. You struggled to breathe, nails scraping against the glass. He leaned down to cover your lips with his own, kissing you for the first time, and you sharply inhaled.

He moaned at the taste of you, his tongue meeting yours, tasting the wine that you wish had killed you too. You both struggled against the window, your hands turning into fists when he pushed his leg between yours, quickly followed by the other. You turned your head away, your small victory overshadowed by your ultimate defeat as he thrust into you. You yelped just as Peter shuddered against your back, a long sigh escaping him as he pressed a hand into the glass beside your head.

He pressed his face into your hair, grinding against you, the sound of him breathing you in reaching your ears. Your own forehead was pressed to the glass now, tearful eyes taking in the storm as Peter dragged his cock in and out of your unwilling core. Your body shook from both your sobs and his ministrations, and again, you pushed against the glass in hopes to push him away.

He merely shoved his chest into your back, forcing you back against the glass before wrapping his arms around you again. One hand pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it straight down, and your lashes fluttered when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to roll his fingers over you. His other arm came across your middle, pinning your own at your sides.

“You are finally mine,” he breathed after a while.

You shook your head in denial, another lightning strike bathing the room in a glow. It was gone as quickly as it came, and you were forced to focus on Peter’s reflection in the window. He was lost in the euphoria of you, the feel of you wrapped around him, sucking him back in again and again.

“Finally,” he groaned. “At my side and in my bed as my queen…”

His hand slipped from beneath the torn fabric of your dress, dancing along your skin before his fingers brushed over the diamond choker at your neck.

“I have all night to claim you as mine, and no one is around to stop me.”

“Peter, this is not you-.”

“Oh, but it is,” he sighed. “This is the man you loved when he did not deserve it. This is the man you will marry, bear children with…’

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears falling at his words.

“Oh, please. Everyone knew that my father was the problem. He was the only one in denial about it, and I have a feeling that by the time I am done with you, you shall be with child by tomorrow.”

“Peter, please,” you screamed.

His hand tightened on your throat, pulling your head back so you were forced to stare at the ceiling, back arched to take his slow and purposeful thrusts. He kissed the corner of your eye before doing the same to your cheek. His breathing was choppy, heart pounding in his chest, and the way his hips stuttered told you that he was close.

“Oh God,” he moaned, stilling against your back as he spilled himself into you.

You froze against him at the feel, realizing that there was no turning back. You shook in his hold, feeling the urge to be sick when he suddenly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers. You gasped, reaching down to grab his wrist as he shoved a second finger inside of you, the wet sound of it reaching your ears even with the rain outside. He pressed you to his chest as he curled his fingers into you.

You bucked your hips, ashamed with your actions as he pulled pleasure from you like it was nothing. LIke he somehow knew your body better than you did. His lips were at your ear, brushing against your skin before he trailed them to your neck again, pressing kisses there. Your nails dug into his wrist, but he paid your efforts no mind as he thrust his fingers into you, setting a pace that had your legs shaking. You knew that if it were not for his hold, you would have collapsed already.

Peter hummed when your breath hitched.

“You are close...aren’t you?”

“Peter...stop,” you shakily begged.

“I shall stop when I feel your arousal dripping down my hand,” he purred.

His words had you clenching around him, and he moaned against your neck.

“I suppose I cannot blame my father for being so possessive of you. Your walls feel like heaven…”

“Peter…”

“I do not know how I will ever allow you to leave our bed-.”

“Peter-.”

“I guess I shall just have to keep you tired…”

“Please-!”

“Come for me, Y/N. Fall apart for your king,” he whispered.

And you did. You seized in his arms, walls clenching around him, your arousal coating his fingers and dripping down his hand. Your nails drew blood, but he only moaned with you, cursing as you rode yourself on his fingers, your other hand reaching back to twist into his shirt. That was the hardest you ever came, and shame filled you.  As you came down from your high, Peter lowered the both of you to the floor.

It was only then did you notice the bloody handprints on the glass. The same blood on you, no doubt. More tears sprung forth as it all seemed to hit you, and Peter forced your head onto his shoulder as he shushed you. You obliged, and he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, rocking you as you sobbed in his tightening arms.

~

tags:   @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie  @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @mcudarklibrary @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @dramaholic18​

[ladydimitrescuspet]

A Living Hell

ao3 link! a little bit of angst for you beautiful souls! I must admit that I hurt my feelings writing this so I ask that you send alcina some love and all the positivity that you can! as always sorry for any grammatical errors, please enjoy, and let me know your thoughts if you want to share them!

warning: no happy ending, sorry!

Tag List (only fill out the form once please): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp, @rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians, @celina1221, ｜Anna, @Gansito83, @Followingmyheartledmetoyou, @theuslesslezbian (won’t tag, idk why)

-----

“Mother, I think Y/N’s broken. They’re afraid of me, they’ve never been afraid of me.” Daniela said to her mother.

Alcina motioned for her daughter to come over to her, patting her lap. When Daniela was on her lap, her head rested against her mother. “Y/N’s...” Alcina trailed off, gathering her words together properly. “I know Y/N acts a little different around us nowadays, but.... because of that wretched man-thing and what he did, their memories of us have disappeared, for lack of a better word.” Alcina explained.

“Disappeared? Will they come back?” Daniela asked with a small frown.

Alcina pressed a kiss to Daniela’s forehead. “It’s complicated, darling. With Y/N’s amnesia, there’s no telling if they’ll retain their memories ever again. Donna’s doing all she can to monitor their progress.”

“But?” Daniela questioned.

Alcina sighed. “But it’s not looking hopeful.” Alcina replied. Daniela sniffled, her eyes watering. “Nonetheless, my sweet girl, we’ll do all we can to create new memories with them. We must, however, gain their trust again. Where are your sisters?”

“In Y/N’s room.” Daniela replied quietly.

“That’s no good. If Y/N’s scared of you then there’s no doubt that they’re scared of them as well. Up now, Dani.” Alcina said.

Daniela pouted. “Carry me, momma?” Daniela asked, giving her mother her best puppy dog eyes.

Alcina sighed again, a small smile forming on her face. “Fine, fine. Come now, let us go tend to our guest.” Alcina said as she stood from her chair, her daughter in her arms.

As they walked the halls toward your room, Daniela asked her mother some questions. “What if Y/N doesn’t want to create new memories with us? What if they never love us the same way they used to?”

“It will take time, Daniela, but we will do what we can. Unfortunately, we cannot force them to want more with us just because of how things used to be. They have to want those things on their own, do you understand?” Daniela nodded her head. “Good, good. Down you go, dear.” Alcina said as she placed Daniela on the floor before knocking on the door in front of them.

Cassandra opened the door. “Hello, Mother.” Cassandra said. “Y/N’s locked themselves in the bathroom and they won’t come out. They keep screaming that we’re murderers and they want to go home.” Tears welled in Cassandra’s eyes.

“Oh, my darling, I’m sorry. I’ll explain once I calm them down.” Alcina replied, her hand coming up to run her hand over Cassandra’s hair before cupping her cheek. “Like I told Daniela, it’ll take some time, but we will help them readjust to life in the castle.”

Cassandra nodded her head. “Of course, Mother.”

“Mother, has Cassandra told you about Y/N? They’ve been acting very strange since they woke up.” Bela said as she entered the room, a plate in her hand. “I thought it would be nice for them to eat.”

Alcina smiled at her daughter. “That’s very kind of you, Bela. Leave the plate on the vanity, I’ll make sure they eat.” Alcina said. “Why don’t you girls go entertain yourselves before washing up for dinner while I talk to them.” The girls nodded their heads before exiting the room.

Alcina knocked on the bathroom door. “Go away. Leave me alone.” You responded, the door muffling your voice.

“Darling, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Alcina replied. “Why don’t you come out here and have something to eat? I sent my daughters away, but Bela brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry. Can you please just leave me alone?” You asked.

Alcina sighed. “I’m afraid I can do that, dragoste.” Alcina let out a small grunt as she positioned herself to sit up against the wall by the bathroom door. “How about this? If you talk to me about what’s wrong, I’ll give you your space, okay?” Alcina suggested.

You mulled the offer over for a moment before ultimately agreeing to it. You slowly opened the door, a bit shocked to see the Lady on the floor. You sat across from her, your back against the bed. You put as much distance between the two of you as you could.

You bit your lip and sighed. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.” You said.

“But darling, you are home. Castle Dimitrescu is your home. Has been for a few decades.” Alcina replied.

You shook your head. “No. No. This is not my home. My house is in the village with my family. I don’t belong here. I don’t want to belong here.” You looked up at her with tears in your eyes. “I just want to go home. Please let me go home.”

You could see the pain in Alcina’s eyes as you pleaded with her. “I’m afraid with the most recent events that have happened, your home is no longer intact. And darling, your family…” Alcina trailed off.

You shook your head. “No, you’re lying. Stop lying to me. Take me home. Now.” You demanding as you stood up and walked over to her. “Take. Me. Home.”

Alcina sighed before rising to her full height. “As you wish, draga mea.” Alcina replied. “But you will not be permitted to stay on the premises, it isn’t safe to do so as it once was.” You frowned at her words, but you knew she was probably right.

It wasn’t until the next that you and the Lady of the Castle travelled down to the village. The shops were all boarded up, the homes were more rundown than the last time you’d been down there. Despite that, you could see the villagers working on their homes to fix them from the event that happened that the Lady had mentioned.

“What… what happened?” You asked as the two of you walked down the road. You thought you might have needed to give her directions, but she seemed to know where she was going. She looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, confusing etching her facial features a bit. “You mentioned some kind of event or events that happened.”

“Ah.” Alcina grimaced slightly as she thought about. “I guess you could call it an invasion. A one man invasion.” Alcina replied. She cleared her throat before continuing. “You see, Mother Miranda is… in need of something. She, well, she found the perfect thing to help her out so she took it. And we, unfortunately, suffered the consequences of her actions. You were injured during the events protecting ou- my daughters from him. He attacked you from behind with some object, hitting your head thus causing you to fall unconscious. A very heartbreaking moment, dear. And then you were in a coma and my dearest sister, Donna, has taken to monitoring your progress during your amnesia.” Alcina explained.

You frowned. “Amnesia?” Alcina hummed. You shook your head. “No. I can’t, that can’t be. I don’t… I don’t remember ever being at the Castle. Ever.” You stared ahead as you came up to the ruins of what used to be your home.

“And what do you remember?” Alcina asked, putting her hand on your shoulder.

You flinched, moving away from her. “Don’t touch me.” You snapped. “As for your question, I remember saying good night to my family and then going to sleep. Then when I woke up, I was at the Castle, in your…” You trailed off as you tried putting the pieces together. “Your eyes widened in horror. “You. You did this. You caused this.”

“Darling, wha-“

You cut her off. “Don’t act innocent. You killed my family, destroyed my home, and kidnapped me. Making up some story about some man invading the village as the perfect cover.” You glared at her. “Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I would just believe your lies?” You could see the pain and hurt in Alcina’s eyes. You moved away from her when she reached her hand out to you again. “I said don’t fucking touch me!” You hissed.

“I’m sorry.” Alcina said softly. “But I didn’t do this. You… you came to the Castle to work. To provide for your family.” Alcina let a small smile grace her face as her eyes teared up a bit. “You were quite clumsy when you started out. The girls didn’t think we should keep you on after your first week, but I… I saw something in you. I made you my personal hand servant after that week. You were terrified. I remember how scared you looked when you found yourself in a room with me, alone. I can’t count how many times I had to reassure you that you were safe with me, for weeks on end. It did take a while for you to warm up to me, but after that you were very confident in your role. We got close, you got close to the girls too. Then one thing led to another. We married. And then that man-thing destroyed the peaceful and loving family I had by taking you away from us.” Alcina sniffled, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

A part of you believed her story, feeling a little tingle within yourself as she told it. But you knew it wasn’t true. “You’re very good.” You replied. Alcina stared at you, purely confused by your words. “At lying. At weaving words together to make them sound believable. You almost had me, almost made me believe that that’s what really happened.” Alcina opened her mouth to say something, but you shook your head. “Don’t bother. You want to know something?”

“Know what?” Her tone sounded a bit lost, you could tell she was beyond hurt by your words.

“That you’re a monster.” You replied. That broke her heart, you could tell the moment you said it, watching her expression crack when you called her a monster. “You take young girls from their homes, kill the men and eat them if they even breathe in your direction. Murdering those girls to use their blood for your so called wine. And call it a form of living, a way for you to survive. You’re a murderer. You’re a monster. But you see yourself as a God, like what you’re doing is okay. It’s not, it’s disgusting. You disgust me. Your daughters disgust me.”

“Y/N, please. You don’t… you don’t mean that. You don’t mean it.” Alcina pleaded slightly as she tried to reach out to you again.

You pushed her hand away, forcefully. “I said don’t fucking touch me. Do not fucking touch me.” You were breathing heavily. You shook your head. “I have to leave. I need to get out of here. You’re monsters, all of you. Every single last one you.” You started walking backwards, away from Alcina. Away from the village. “I'd say I hope you all rot in hell, especially you, but you're already living in it.” You said, spitting at the ground before turning around.

Alcina fiddled with your engagement ring and wedding ring as she watched you walk away from her, tears flowing down her face. She was going to give them back to you when the two of you got back from the village. After she told you what happened. She hadn’t expected you to react that way, didn’t consider this scenario.

Alcina didn’t come after you, she knew she’d already lost you. Twice now. No sense in trying to force you into something you didn’t want. Maybe you always felt this way and the attack was your guiding light, the one you needed to clear your mind and realise just how horrible of a person she was. The girls crowded their Mother as she came home, questioning your whereabouts when they didn't see you.

“Y/N will no longer be residing with us, girls.” Alcina replied. “You may send some maids to clean up the guest room and then you may go play. But I ask that you refrain from ever mentioning Y/N, wipe the Castle of their presence. Get rid of it all.” Alcina requested. “They are as dead to us as we are to them and it will stay that way forever.”

“But Mother…” Daniela started, but quickly found herself closing her mouth at her Mother’s intense stare. “Yes, Mother.” Daniela said dejectedly. Her sisters following her lead before dispersing into their swarms.

Alcina sighed as she made her way to her chambers, placing your rings in the box she’d gotten them in. “Good bye, iubirea mea.” Alcina said softly as she closed the box and placed it on her vanity. The only things she wished to remember you by, allowing only a small part of you to reside in her home and her heart.

[ethereal-blossom]

I'm gonna pitch in officially this time. Can I please get headcannons about Kunikida and Chuuya having to deal with moody teenager/s for a case with a s/o who gets along with the teenagers?

(Also, P.S. for CHERRI, TAKE CARE OF MY FRIEND PROPERLY OR I'LL BREAK YOUR HEART, NOT METAPHORICALLY! )

a/n: seeing your old account made me realize how long ago you requested this😳 but ashdwer this was so much fun writing! i always love your ideas.

🚨warning(s): none

masterlist

kunikida and you had been send on the same mission. the only witnesses of the crime scene? teenagers. unfortunately for your man, it were moody teenagers.

now, kunikida has a bit of experience with the youth because of his previous teaching job and i like to think kunikida has a soft spot for young minds and hearts, but when they act like dazai 2.0 and get in the way of his perfect schedule-

kunikida is fine the first minute. he is professional, calm, responsible and- DID THEY INSULT HIS NOTEBOOK?

wait, it's fine. this are teenagers who just have to get educated on manners, kunikida remembered. he will just have to ask his question again of what they saw and... they made a joke about glasses. his glasses.

dazai flashbacks. kunikida instantly experienced stomach pains, sudden flashes of black and white over his field-

and that was your cue to jump in.

WAIT WHY WERE YOU JOKING ABOUT HIM NOW, TOO??

however, kunikida found himself amazed at how comfortable the teenagers seemed to be around you. your human knowledge -or better said understanding of teenagers- made his respect for you grow even more.

the conversation between you and the teenagers were all over the place: one minute you were discussing the crime scene and then you all were freaking out over that one new horror movie.

still a little annoyed from the way his perfect schedule ran out, kunikida found himself relaxing. hearing you laugh so casually while working things out- his heart fluttered and his cheeks steadily turned red.

when one of the teenagers made their observation vocal about the blushed cheeks, kunikida screamingly denied it.

which made him the target of some moody and cranky jokes.

but all was fine, because you got every detail that you two needed.

you: "did you write that all down, doppo?"

spoiler alert: kunikida had been admiring you so much that halfway through he had stopped making notes.

it only made you more amused and kunikida's cheeks a brighter red.

chuuya was thrilled to be on a mission with you and especially because it was an easy one. the only thing you had to do was get some information out of some citizen bystanders.

the plan was clear in the executive's mind: ask what the port mafia needed to know and if they refused to answer... well, the fists would do the talking. maybe he could even take you out on a date afterwards.

the plan was aborted once chuuya saw the teenagers.

chuuya isn't that hot-tempered when he-who-shall-not-be-named-in-chuuya's-presence is out of the picture but nevertheless, there are some vulnerable spots in chuuya's pride.

his height. we are talking about his height.

chuuya started to feel a bit on edge when one of the teenagers looked him up and down while he was in the middle of his question.

instead of a proper answer to his question, the same teenager made a remark about his height...

the diSresPect. your man froze for a few seconds.

okay, teenagers were a bit rebellious. he could make a big deal out of it or he could handle this quickly so he could take you out on a date.

then somebody made fun of his hat.

pride = hurt. it was an arrow shot through his heart.

dazai flashbacks triggered chuuya's hot-tempered character.

lucky for everybody, you were there.

you stole chuuya's hat and placed it on your head. you joked around with the teenagers while giving chuuya a playful look.

you sly-

chuuya always melted when you wore his hat and he knew you were aware of it.

and now you were using it as a weapon against everybody in the room. not only did you calm down your man, but you entertained the moody teenagers.

chuuya still felt a bit hurt during the interrogation, but he couldn't stay mad when your eyes sparkled the way they did like now-

was he smiling?? he totally was.

and when you touched his shoulder for a short second, he felt a rush of warmth spreading through his veins.

and when you had all the information you needed, chuuya gave you a big compliment of how well you had dealt with the moody teenagers.

you: "you were so going to freak out, weren't you?"

chuuya: "they made fun of my height and my hat!"

"the audacity."

[magicpumpkin3]

Heyaaaa!!!! So I read the request of the reader screaming because of a spider and the dorm leaders thinking the reader was in danger and then I was like, what if we were actually in danger, like getting attacked by a person. So I wanted to request the reader being attacked by someone and the being protected by the dorm leaders. I hope this is clear enough, well have a good day 😁😁

Oh boi-

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle hasn't felt such rage since his overbolt. No, this rage was so much bigger and greater. How dare they?!

He's immediately by your side, screaming "OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!". If this wasn't enough to stope your attacker, Riddle uses all protection spells and tricks he learned in NR college.

Dorm leader is well aware if he uses attack spells or overuses self-defence, it's going to backfire. He'll also be an attacker.

After some time of defending, bastard who attacked you finally was out of breath. Right in that moment, Riddle hits them in the gut. Just in case.

Incident is reported to Dire (if birdman does nothing, he'll have to face overbolting Riddle again). And person who attacked you is delt with. Properly.

After that fight, you're momentarily sent to the nurse office. Riddle is so worried, he spends all his time by your side. Only reasons why he leaves you, is lessons,l and some hella important things other then that, dorm leader is always near you.

Leona Kingscholar

Oh, that lion is pissed. Leona doesn't care what is about to happen, he only knows one thing for sure. That piece of a person is going down.

Usually Leona wouldn't interrupt fights or end them, unless it was absolutely necessary. But seeing you in one. On receiving side if it. Oh damn- someone was either stupid or had the biggest balls around for that kind of stuff. Everyone knew: If you mess with Ramshackle perfect, you mess with Leona.

Fists, magic everything is thrown into the fight. It doesn't matter of the person is stronger then Leona, that lion will get make them go down. Meanwhile Ruggie is at your side, trying to get you to a nurse office.

When Leona is done beating the living shit out of with attacker, he's by your side. He doesn't leave you. At all. He sleeps near you, eats near you (Ruggie was kind enough to deliver Leona food once in a while), sleep again- He misses damn lessons pretty often already, he doesn't care.

No one can go near you, unless it's a medical staff member or Ruggie with food.

Azul Ashengrotto

At first, He couldn't believe his own eyes. Who was stupid enough to do this? My lord was he mad. I don't think anyone has ever witnessed him being this mad before.

He gets between two of you immediately. Azul uses all protection spells he knows on you. He isn't the best in physical strength (usually twins do the dirty job) but when it comes to protecting his angelfish, oh boi- does this dude gets feral.

Like Riddle, he knows if he abuses power of self-defence, Azul will get in trouble himself. Unlike Rosehearts though, he has a whole shady business and blackmail behind his back.

After the fight is over and you're getting proper medical help and whole thing is reported, Azul calls Leech twins. No one gets away from him after hurting his Angelfish.

After all that, in private, he crys near your bed. Azul feels pathetic. He couldn't protect you! His greatest treasure. He fells like hiding in his octoput, with you near him. Azul stays by your side as long as possible. He has school and business to attend to. However, you're more important then any of those things.

Kalim Al-Asim

Poor boy has no idea what to do! Whom am I kidding, he knows what to do. BREAK THE FIGHT! He doesn't want anyone fighting. Especially you.

If attacker keeps pushing on, trying to punch or kick, Kalim would just call for help or use his unique magic. He really doesn't want to be involved in something as horrible as this!

Jamil is there to slap sense into him. After calming down after a mini panic attack, Kalim immediately gets you to the nurse office. He is there with through the whole check up and is there even after.

Kalim reports this attack to Dire (if birdman does nothing, he'll face overbolting Kalim or something close to that). He will make that person pay. Dorm leader isn't usually the one for revenge but right now, he wants justice.

Like Azul, his very sorry. Kalim doesn't care if his crying in public, he really doesn't! He was so confused, it's his fault for not being able to protect you or take care of you. If it wasn't for Jamil, bringing him back to his senses he'd still be having that panic attack.

He's willing to skip classes, if you want him near you (Jamil is typing). After tha incident, he is all tingly all over and is a bit paranoid. Please be patient with him. Kalim wasn't that traumatized from boing poisoned.

Vil Schoenheit

How dare they?! Vil was furious. He never felt so much disgust for a human being before! He was ready to tear them apart. Who do they think they are too harm his sweet potato?!

Vil has never looked this bitten up. No, wrong term. He never looked so deadly. His hair messed up a bit, face twisted with rage and his clothes being a nit wrinkly. He was truly terrifying.

Like Azul and Riddle, he understands the backfire if he overuses his magic but dear God he's in such rage. Vil isn't the one to throw hands for nothing, fortunately for you though, you're everything to him. Vil throws in every protection and 'passive-aggressive' spell he can remember.

After the fight is over, Vil makes sure himself that you get the best medical treatment. The thing is immediately reported to Dire (if birdman does nothin, he faces bunch of furious fans of youxVil). He spends every free moment he can by your side. All his meetings are cancelled and he has Rook guarding you 24/7.

Some time later, he makes Rook stalk the bastard who hurt you. After he knows enough information, Vil will hunt that piece of person. He may not be the best when it comes to strength but he is master of hurtful words and sabotages. Vil will make them pay for what they did to his sweet potato.

Idia Shroud

He's so terrified, has no idea what to do! Video games only gave him instructions how to bit the bosses not...This! Seeing you hurt, trying to defend yourself, it makes him feel weak, more pitiful.

The way you try to fight back someone so much stronger then you, it wakes something in him. Need, no must to protect.

Oldest of the Shroud brothers maybe shy and nerves wreck all over the place but when it comes to people he loves and cares about, all of his trades disappear. Before you, is not a shy and nerves Idia, it's Mr. Shroud.

With a blink of an eye, his by your side. On the outside, he is confident blackmailer but on the inside there's a killbill siren on the max volume. He's panicking inside okay?! Just because he looks like he's about to end someone's career (which he is-), doesn't mean Idia is even close to being confident.

Idia won't try to fight back, he'll just get you out of the fight. He may be a bit braver then before, that doesn't mean he's dumb now. He knows he's weaker then that bastard. He get's you to medical staff as fast as possible. Once you're save in nurse office, Idia lets himself panic all he wants.

He can't help but cry, feeling weak and pathetic. What good is he, if he couldn't protect person he loves?! Please, give this guy some love and reassurance. Idia feels absolutely broken. Don't think he forgot about that attack though...The person who did this will pay. Idia has a lot if blackmail material for a reason.

Malleus Draconia

Okay, genuine question. Does the person has a death wish? Like I'm genuinely curious. Everyone knows not to mess with Diasomnia dorm and their leader especially.

Malleus literally summons thunder when he sees this. Dark aura surrounding him, while he walks closer you and that poor unfortunate soul. How dare some, mere a fly compared to him do such things to his beloved?

Let's be real. Anyone, dumb or not, would stop attacking you and just ran away crying like a little beech baby. Though soon enough they're caught by one of Malleu's guards. Don't they dare think, that young prince just forgot about them. Let's just say that after that... There is a rumour that they got transferred to a different school.

He won't let attacker explain themselves. He doesn't want a word leaving their filthy mouth. Malleus just picks you up and carrys you to the medical staff to check you. Dorm leader doesn't leave your side and if he absolutely has to, he leaves one of his guards (or Lilia if that matters) with you.

Malleus just sits near you. Poor baby is too afraid to touch you, he thinks he'll gring you even more pain, he couldn't even hug you in fear of hurting you!

Malleus isn't the one to be a cry baby but if they're any scares left, he'll cry. It was his fault. You probably got beaten up because you were with him. Please, I beg you, give this boy some love and affection. He needs it even more then before.

Again, sorry for a delay!