#gloryseized

[justicepuppet]

@gloryseized from [x]

"I'm already gone."

If he was, then why was he doing this? Standing here, holding onto Akira - holding him? It would have been kinder to push him away and leave instead of clinging to him? Kissing him?

A step back was taken to finally give Akira space to straighten, though Akechi hardly gave him any space. He was still right there, face staring at Akira's as if committing every inch of it to memory would somehow stave off the inevitability that would come with tomorrow's dawn.

He had been suspicious of it for awhile. That night, being found by Akira, having him been able to take him back to LeBlanc to be saved before blood loss took him - all of it had been just too... perfect. An unbelievable outcome that had left the world not quite feeling right after. There had been that much time spent recovering in the cafe, but those few days (weeks?) had further cemented the strange, alien feeling.

It was like he was split in two. Half of him was there with Akira, and the other half of him was lying dead. Too many flashes of the scent of sterile antiseptic, needles prodding into his arms, machines that hummed and beeped and bright florescent lights that burned into his gaze. He was dead somewhere, and the moments with Akira were just...

Fake.

"You'll make the right decision tomorrow." And three people would die then. Okumura, Wakaba, and himself. Who knew how many others there were who should be dead but had been resurrected? But that was how it should be. It was a bitter, painful reality, but it was real.

Will you remember this? It was just an assumption on Akira's end. Even if he could, Akechi wouldn't. Whatever happened now would only be in Akira's memory.

"-- what moment do you want to remember from tonight?" And finally he released Akira's wrist, though only to move his hand up to his face. Gloved fingers brushed against his cheek, the gesture too soft and gentle for the moment.

"If this is my funeral, how are you sending me off?"

[personaiiisms]

@gloryseized: ☛ - press a finger to my muse’s lips to shut them up ( to Mishima from Akira @gloryseized ) | MANHANDLING SENTENCE STARTERS

For all the time he had spent fanboying over the Phantom Thieves and everything they had done, Mishima had never thought that he could ever do anything even half as impressive as them. Changing hearts? That was the type of thing that important people did. Strong people.

He wasn't that.

He was trying to be, though. And it was why he had even tried to stand up to the thugs threatening Akiyami. There must have been a short-circuit in his brain that let him do it though, one that was causing some sort of temporary psychosis, because he could have also sworn he heard a female voice speaking out from his phone just moments before the entire world around him changed.

Beginning navigation.

The world around him had suddenly shifted, and Mishima found himself on his ass. Standing with a groan, he was aware of two things: Akira... was no longer just wearing his school uniform, and they were no longer standing on the streets of Tokyo.

"Is... is this a subwa-?"

His words were halted by Akira pressing a finger against his lips, silencing Mishima for the moment. Only seconds later did he see the strange thing go shambling past them; a large, amorphous shadowy shape that seemed to have eyes floating across the surface of its body.

Okay. Okay. Message received loud and clear. He nodded, not really understanding where they were or what happened - but something had happened. This was...

Oh. Crap.

This was the metaverse?

[epitomees]

@gloryseized replied to this post: Does Mom Makoto need to step...

Akira vc: Makoto listen. This is really funny

"And what exactly do you find funny about the current topic of discussion..."

[furysburn]

˗ˏˋ🥞 | @gloryseized

Akira stares down at his phone screen in shock. What is the phrase--you look like you've seen a ghost? He's not sure if that applies to a name attached to a text message flashing across his screen, but he still stares at it dumbly for a few moments, disbelief freezing him in place.

It's Akechi. He's alive. He's replied.

He's complaining about the weather?

Flicking open the message only to pull up the photo, he absorbs it hungrily, eyes catching each and every detail before he taps into his browser. He's not the detective that Akechi had once been purported to be, but even he can make some deductions, assuming Akechi hasn't delayed the picture or changed it somehow prior to messaging him.

But why this picture? Why this moment? Why is this the first thing he's sent in months rather than any of the dozen times Akira messaged him first? Should Akira play it cool? Maybe message a bit back and forth first? It's too late for that, not when Akira's already getting a train ticket to Kikugahama Beach.

>> I'll be there tomorrow morning.

It took him no time at all to unpack the meager life he had smuggled out of Tokyo. The words " Just get out " of Sae Niijima chased him away with the same exhausted look she always spared for him. The Kakekomi-dera gave him time to rest but the itch continued until an impulse buy sent him to the other side of the country. Why a beach he had no idea but the country reminded him of his mother and the city of Shido so—

And because of a worse impulse soon he'll have a visitor.

The soda he bought rolled over his neck doing nothing against the heat that simmered under his skin. People walked by but their eyes glazed over him, caught up in their rush towards the water or seaside tourist traps. He should be more careful sticking inside or wearing a light disguise but he can't bring himself to care anymore. If someone noticed him he'll just slip away again and find another place to rot in waiting for his death to finally find him.

He didn't need to see the text he sent back to remember what he said. A cocky and familiar tone matched with a blurry photo of the view out his rental's window. He took greater care this time to remove anything too identifying, bitter he had made it so easy the first time.

" Find me. "

If he couldn't then he deserved the distance. Eight hours and six transfers all for nothing. It almost made him smile the idea of it. The waste of it.

The can slid down with his limp hand and rested in the crook of his neck and mixed its condensation with the sweat of his skin. There, a familiar click of shoes. A shadow. He almost expected a black mask mixing meta and reality when he looked up at his eyes.

" You really would have made a fine detective if you were never a felon. "

[desertforged]

@gloryseized - send ⛓️ for your muse to receive mine as a spoils of war

A hundred years changes many things - Hyrule was a shadow of its former self, torn down and ruined by the malice that had taken over the very creations meant to save it. Its Champions were distant memories, its Princess trapped within her own castle, and its people scattered, afraid to leave the safer settlements. The rage that had erupted from him all those year ago still reared its head above the castle from time to time, bellowing roar echoing across the plains with each Blood Moon.

A hundred years of rage, hatred, and blinding pain for the man behind the beast had changed him as well. The gentle-hearted King who'd once fought against fate had given in to despair when he'd seen Link fall on the plains. Possessed by the rage of many before him, he hadn't been able to stop the malice-fueled machines that had taken Link down. Long had he believed that the younger man he'd fallen in love with was gone, heartbreak fueling the Calamity's rage even more.

In all that time, he'd never known Link was alive until months after the Hero had woken - the fight with the Waterblight was the first Ganon had seen Link in a hundred years. One order was spread through the malice to the other Blights - bring him to me.

It was the Windblight that had succeeded, pulled Link through the malice to the throne room of Hyrule Castle, where Ganon sat upon the ruined throne. Above, the pure rage form of the Calamity was held by Zelda's magic.

"All this time and you never came to visit." Ganon's voice was not the warm timbre it had been before the Calamity - instead it was lower, echoed by voices of those before him. There's a slight grin on his lips, a flash of canines, and his corrupted eyes glimmer as he approached his captured prize. One hand moved to grasp Link's chin, clawed nails digging into soft skin. "Perhaps what they said of you was right after all - everything you ever told me a lie. Hyrule's spy, his love an act to get close to the Gerudo's King."

[sanguinesorcery]

⏳

Lessons of the Past || Always Accepting

I N S P I R A T I O N

Fariah regales the stories and memories of her mother quite often.

Sonyt was a driving force in her little life, always recalled with the fondness of a child always beloved. But it was not just her mother who was part of her young life. While Mama excelled in magick and taught her tiny pup the ways of the people through songs and stories, Dael was the attentive father.

Very grounded in his duties, as an Emperor and a warrior and a father besides. Where Mama was a wisp of whimsy, Papa was the foundation. But even then, Dael was capable of strange whimsies and flights of fancy. It was always these moments that Fariah remembers him most fondly, for although he instilled much of how to be the unbending and unbreaking Imperial Sidhe, the pinnacle of their civilization, his mischievous smile and deep warm laugh stays the longest.

Once a year near her birthday, they went sailing. Papa always visited one particular spot, an expanse of empty water far beyond the borders of Imperial Waters. Where the Summit Lighthouse was not even a spark on the horizon, where the shipping lanes did not disturb the mirror surface of the deep dark foreboding ocean. Out where The Leviathans lived, where no nation claimed dominance.

She was seven. She remembers because Mama had finally agreed to let him take their tiny pup with him to sail since she knew how to swim on her own. The excitement mounted to the agreed day to set out and she was so giddy she hardly slept when the day came. Sidhe were sailors at heart, born of water and would die in water. So the old adage went. Even without having sailed before, it was a natural state of being to her young self.

They started out in early morning, when the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Papa explained the rigging, the sails, the way the rudder worked. He navigated with the hand of an expert through the shipping lanes within the Three and Ten. Out into Imperial Waters, where the seafloor gave way to menacing depths in a drop so steep, one would think the archipelago was the edge of the world.

Out to the expanse.

It took almost six hours of constant moving to get to this special place and the sun was high in the sky when he finally pulled the brake sails into place and dropped the windcatcher. He said, as the boat coasted to a halt and bobbed on the unnaturally still water, that this was his favorite place. His father had shown him this place, and Fariah wondered about her grandfather.

She knew her grandmother had died long before she was born. The Empress before, the forty-fifth Ariad in the direct lineage. They said she had been a ruthlessly ferocious woman, having stained the white marble in the audience hall so badly with one of her massacres deemed 'lessons' that the tiles had to be scraped and replaced. Stains from it were still somewhere on the statue of Katya in the wall behind the dais. So it was said. It was Matena who used the Aeroglaive the most among the Modern lineage, to vicious effect.

But Fariah sort of remembered her grandfather. He married into the family as an Oracle, as per tradition. A calm quiet man compared to his devilish wife, but he loved her and their son both regardless of Matena's cruel nature. He had died only four years prior. She knew her grandfather. She knew his old wrinkled smile, his leathery warm hands, and the spark of joy in his tired eyes when his grandchild toddled in to say good morning in the archives. He passed peacefully in his sleep near the time of the Light Festival after she turned three and they sent him to be lead by Kaylaraja to the Other World.

She could easily picture her grandfather sailing, even if it was hard for her to picture her father being as young as she was then.

Dael told her he had a special kind of magick in this very special place, but it was most powerful when the sun went down. So they would have to wait to see it and turn for home in the early morning again. Of course, she was excited. Papa doing any sort of magick outside his skillset was rare, and it was special to boot! She could hardly wait to see it.

They fished for a time, they told stories. Sung songs to pass the day by and a little bit of paddling around the boat to make sure she knew how to handle swimming in the open oceans. It wasn't enough to keep her awake, and long about mid-afternoon, despite the giddiness of events to come, Fariah laid herself down for a nap in the sun.

To the gentle rock of otherwise unseen waves, the warmth of a clear sunny day. The smell of fresh brine and a low but cool sea breeze. She doesn't remember even now what she dreamed about. A caress from some otherworldly being, perhaps. Listening to its heartbeat in the thud of waves against the boat's hull beneath her ear. A whisper of Leviathans far far below, the dull siren's roar of things in the depths.

Papa woke her at around sunset. She remembers the way the orange vividly ringed around his head, how his eyes glowed reflective in the low light as he grinned down at her. The smell of cooking fish and warmed saag and rice they had brought as rations from home. It was almost time, he said. But first, dinner.

Fish caught and cleaned and cooked fresh was something she hadn't had before that moment. It paired with the mildness of the saag, lent its natural salinity to it. Almost sweet, a little strange. But not disliked, although she found her appetite healthy enough that she would have eaten it raw if it were necessary. Hunger is the best spice, after all. With dinner eaten, Papa presented the stars.

The sun was no longer seen, but there was a small line of color on the far horizon. It wasn't enough to dull out the expanse above. A wondrous sight, indeed. Here, the stars glowed so brilliantly and so numerously, they reflected in the water of the ocean below. A clouded arm of scattered stars in the millions and billions and trillions made a glimpse of the far away galaxies stretching above seem not so far, wrapped in a warped garbled version of itself in muted brilliance on the water. A few moments more and Papa spoke.

"See how beautiful our many worlds are, my pup. How numerous they are, how each prick of light above us is so far away, we will never see them up close in our lifetime.

"But I can bring the stars to you, so you may see them close."

She told him that was impossible. No one could just bring stars to people. You had to be a Seer to do that, or one of the rare metalsmiths of the Clouded Isle. The island there was a star. Therefore, it was sound logic only the Gods' Realm could produce one in the mortal realm so close to be seen.

Papa laughed. A great hearty laugh, one from deep in his belly. It echoed around the boat, around the expanse. She was sure even the stars heard him and twinkled in jovial response. He assured her that he knew a great many magicks, and this one was no different. See, how he produced the little stone from a small pile in the boat. See, how he held it up to the sky.

"You will become a star, and when you feel our mortal waters, you will bring your brethren!"

A magic spell, grand and musical as all magick in the Isles is tied to. And he held it out to to his tiny pup, who was watching with great eyes and smiles at this strange expression of magick she had never seen.

"Now. You let it free into the water and let it call its kin."

It felt like a normal stone. Warm and hard from the day's sun and Papa's hand. A normal weight, big enough to fit in her little palm but not so big to be too heavy. She was at the side of the boat in minutes, the plop of the stone in the water below greeted first with expectance! And then mild disappointment when nothing happened right away.

She pouted at her father for misleading her. He only laughed and told her to watch.

"Real magick takes time, you know this."

A reminder to be patient, even if she could only feel impatient toward promised events. She returned to the water, staring down where the stone hit and sunk. A few seconds more before the flash colored the deeper depths. Far below, a streak like lightning. Bright blue and brief at first, right where she expected the rock to have sunk further.

A precursor of what was to come, as within moments, the ocean began to light. Little pricks of fluorescent blue, bright and glowing, took over the water. The light drowned out the reflection of the stars above, replaced the galaxies and starry folds of sky with clouds and hazes of stars of their own. The reflection of low waves rippling against the sides of the boat, everything from surface to depths alight.

"I bring you stars!" Papa was laughing at the way her face looked, so awe-struck in the shimmering brilliance of what was once dark ocean expanse. "I brought your mother here too, you know. It is where I told her I loved her, more than our roles. More than our stations. And so too do I call the stars for our little pup. For I love you just as much and wish you to see the measure of that love, to the skies and the stars."

"Does Mama like the stars." she asked him, and he nodded his answer.

"Perhaps, one day, you may bring those you love here as well. Maybe your Emperor, maybe your pups. Bring them here and give them the stars."

A measure of love to many depths. Above and below. She doesn't forget the stars, even now.

She brings the lithograph of his smiling face with her once a year. They still go sailing together as they have for many years. Every year, she speaks the words to the stone, even if she knows what causes the phenomena now. Every year, she calls the stars.

Perhaps she will break a bit of tradition and Mama will join them this year. Perhaps she needs to see them again too.

Love without measure, the depths of the sky.

@gloryseized

[electricea]

@gloryseized

thank you!! i love the pokemona adventures manga! (and just pokemon manga period)

[lituusapollinis]

cont. II @gloryseized

"Why don't I tell you where to shove your--" Octavian mumbles under his breath before he can stop himself. But technically, his health depends on this Greek.

So, he forces himself to pause, and then smiles brightly at his... pseudo-sibling, with a wrinkled nose. "Sorry. I was meeting your manners where they are. My sincerest apologies, truly. I don't mean to appear ungrateful."

Seeing as how he can't... well. See out of one eye, that statement feels sort of ironic. "It hurts everywhere, if you can believe it, doctor. But the lack of sight on my right side is rather alarming!"

[madefate]

it will feel better if you tell me. / to Futaba from Akira @gloryseized

❝ - ... That's cheating. ❞ Futaba mumbles something else, but with her face in her arms and her arms on her knees, it's impossible to make out. Probably nothing happy - not if the look on her face is any indication. It's a lot easier hiding your feelings when no one can see you. Futaba's known that Akira is smart and perceptive for longer than Akira has known she existed ; like, that was the whole point of roping the Phantom Thieves into her orbit to begin with. Now, though, she knows that he knows something is up and she's having a hard time disappearing into the old leather of Leblanc's booth seat.

Not fair. Life was so much easier when she held all the cards. Now she has to hold all these - feelings, in a raw and vulnerable place. Why is he so good at reading people ?? Futaba plays with the sleeve of her sweater, finding the spot worn from her fingertips from years of placating herself with the same motion.

❝ ... Your probation's almost up. ❞ Actually, it should have expunged altogether after the fallout with Shido but the government's still as incompetent and lazy as ever, apparently. Or, at least, that's what it looked like when she'd hacked into the police's records to keep track of Akira's status. On the down low, of course. No movement on the account, but the natural expiration date was barely weeks away anyway.

And when Futaba had seen that, she'd frozen.

Burying her face more, she gets out all in a rush, ❝ Are you gonna leave us ? ❞

[nectaric]

@gloryseized asked: you seem to make a lot of enemies around here. ( to obi from echo )

that was an understatement. there seemed to be a dichotomy in a universe torn apart by war - that folk either loved to see a jedi coming... or loathed it. obi-wan understood that he could not be beloved by all in the galaxy, but the blaster fire was beginning to grate on his nerves. he would blame it entirely upon the republic ship he had descended from - though the firing had not actually begun until obi-wan emerged from the ship and attempted a greeting in the common language.

the men were never going to let him live this down.

"i like to think of enemies as friends i have not made yet," obi-wan shouted back, ducking behind the cover of a boulder while the locals - backed by droids - rained fire upon them. "and the first step to making friends, is to subdue their leadership long enough to reach an accord. cover me!"

[justicepuppet]

@gloryseized: "Take a breath, focus." ( to Akechi from Akira @gloryseized ) | They lost control

It was raining, which had already meant that something bad would end up happening. Akechi never really understood why, and knowing that the weather of the real world affected the metaverse wouldn't have really helped him much either. Rain meant cognition and shadows were stilted, slow, sick. And considering his own split cognition...

It had been getting better, though. It had been months since there had been a 'flare-up'. Akechi had found himself starting to actually relax when it rained instead of tensing up and shutting himself in. He was getting better-

And then Akira came flying back into his life.

It wasn't his fault. Akira was just... a person. He wasn't responsible for how Akechi felt, or for Akechi's mental well-being. It wasn't his fault that Akechi's mind was held together with duct-tape, or whatever the metaverse equivalent would be.

Raindrops had started to melt together, the soft pitter-patter turning into a low drone as the world seemed to split in two. There was another him there. He could see him walking ahead, limping and gait off-balance. Something dark was dripping down from him, leaving behind puddles from his footsteps as he shambled ahead.

"... hey..."

Ignore it ignore it. Advice Akechi should have listened to, but he took one, two steps forward, hand slowly reaching out. The copy of himself didn't pause at all.

This is wrong.

"Hey. Hey, wait up-"

He was still walking ahead of himself. The puddles were growing bigger. He had to avoid them as he walked, though how could he avoid it when it was dripping off of him?

Him? No, the other one- but it was him-

"Hey! Sto-!"

A hand grabbed his wrist, abruptly jerking Akechi back. A fraction of a second later and a bus went racing by, horn blaring loudly as a warning that should have alerted him to the fact that he was about to run out into the road. It was followed by a splash of water from the large puddles along the side of the road, soaking Akechi nearly head to toe-

black water dark water stained he was stained now it was going to sink into his very being-

The sheer panic that must have started to creep into his features had to be obvious to anyone - and that included his savior, one Akira. He should have been still furious with Akechi, but instead was just looking at him with something that might have even been concern. No. He didn't want that. Couldn't take it.

"Take a breath. Focus-"

"I know how to take care of myself, Akira." He found himself snapping back without thought, eyes wide from anger as he could taste the bile rising in the back of his throat. Akechi jerked away, fighting against the urge to hug himself and shrink down as he did. No, he had to stay aggressive. Upset. Akira couldn't see that he wasn't okay.

"I don't need your fucking help."

[personaiiisms]

@gloryseized: “Even in your perfect world, the ass is still flat.”

"Akira-kun... why are you looking at my ass?"

[fragmentedlegends]

@gloryseized replied to your post “My default Astor is not the same prophet who...”:

astor eventually : don't you just ever want to cut loose?

​

[serandipity]

@gloryseized liked for a starter from Yusuke!

"Akira, I must ask something of you. It is imperative to my art making process." There's a pause as Yusuke looks to his empty wallet, and then to object of his desire, "...Could I perhaps have some money to purchase this crab?"

[devilsprophet]

@ for gloryseized if you're still accepting!

Send me “@” + a URL and I will have to say 3 nice things about that URL! Plus Astor will say 3 sassy things.

CC Says—

1. Hilary has such wonderful writing!!! It somehow manages to be simultaneously COZY and ENGAGING and just a little bit HEART WRENCHING. There’s such a sense of life in her writing, you can see the characters in their subtle movements and mannerisms, just chefs kiss.

2. So much thought and care put into the research for their Link muse specifically. Will absolutely never get over the accurate use and description of sign language.

3. The mun!! Hilary!!! You’re such a sweetheart and a damn talent. If I could have a fraction of your ability to focus and multitask, I would weep with joy. There are some muns you speak with and there is an immediate click of, “Ah, yes, this is a Good Person,” and you are one of them. I love chatting and plotting with you and knowing that we’re navigating young motherhood and RP life together!

Astor says—

1. Very much a pain in my side, this little muse. I had hoped to cut off his path of even finding the sword, but no, and now I am his de facto babysitter. The things I do for Calamity…

2. Who are all of these other people on this blog?? Get them out of my face. Link is my only concern. I am not accepting more wards.

3. “Am I being too negative—“ Darling, you are the mew of a kitten. Sharpen your tongue and bring more chaos to this Hylia forsaken cesspool of trite civility.

[truthprevail]

@gloryseized (akira) : "when was the last time you slept?"

❝ Why do you ask? Do I look... tired? ❞ Fatigue is evident in her raspy voice, hoarse from persistent utility at the office today. Her fingers wrap around the handle of the coffee mug before taking another sip.

SEND "WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SLEPT?" FOR MY MUSE'S REACTION.