#grim & perilous

[free-my-boy-grumbot]

Ranking the ASOUE parts because I’m bored and my friend isn’t online

i would love to keep it extensive but i also don’t want tumblr to crash so i will keep it brief. spoilers, obviously. also charcater death.

13. The Grim Grotto

Listen just because it’s 13th doesn’t mean it’s BAD, it just means i’m kinda indifferent to it as opposed to obsessing over it like i do with the others. It’s just that I’m not THAT into nautical themes and I have 2 nautical-themed assignments to do in school today so I’m a little sick of it.

Also, I’m just not that big on Fiona as a character. I didn’t really like the two-girls-hate-each-other-for-no-reason thing that she had going with Violet (especially because it was really out of charcater for her), her romance with Klaus seemed out of place, and her being related to Fernald just seemed like it was pulled out of nowhere to get an emotional reaction. Again, I get why you’d like her and the part, it’s just not for me personally. Also esme’s worst outfit was featured here. Also in the netflix series it just wasn’t as funny as the other ones and that’s a huge thing for me

12. The Wide Window

Honestly didn’t expect this one to be so low, but it’s difficult to choose between these bc i love them all </3 anyways I actually liked Josephine as a charcater, I like the idea that she wants to help the children but is rendered basically incompetent because of her fear, they really popped off with that. HOWEVER they did a very similar thing with Hector but way better so alas </3 12th place

Also like I said, not a massive fan of sea-themed aesthetics. Also also I LOVE all of count olaf’s disguises but I’m kind of indifferent to captain Sham so that also might be why. Also, again, the rest of the netflix series was way funnier

11. The Carnivorous Carnival

Honestly, not much to say about this one. The “not really feeling strongly one way or the other” section has come early this year apparently. Esme and Olivia both SLAYED in their outfits and we got introduced to the circus crew which was cool as fuck. Sadly I have knocked SEVERAL points off for horny count olaf. The scene where he describes madame lulu as buttered really makes you appreciate how little force it takes to rip one’s ear off. It provides me with a new and informed understanding of the phrase “skin crawling”. other than that it’s pretty good :)

10. The Slippery Slope

Now I was one of those people who didn’t know what Mount Fraught syndrome was before reading this book, and the reveal of why the mountain was named that fucking eviscerated me. I was used to this series pulling shit like this constantly and yet this one destroyed me for some reason. If you already knew what mount fraught syndrome was before reading/watching this scene then you didn’t get the full experience and i’m sorry for you.

I also don’t LOVE quigley and violet. I know i just said that about klaus and fiona so it kinda seems like i hate romance, but i really dont. i hate forced romance. romance just isn’t daniel handlers strong suit but he insists on writing it anyway, and that’s fine. it’s what i do with basically everything i write about. Especially since in the netflix series duncan also has a crush on violet so it’s kinda ??? for her to end up with quigley. like do you guys think when quigley and duncan reunited quigley told him about this really cool girl called violet he met and duncan was like “…”. anyways imagine getting cucked by your presumed dead twin brother could not be me

9. The Austere Academy

okay so i felt bad putting this lower because i know someone that really likes this part but i’m sorry it’s just kinda there. i mean it was super funny and the dead horse bit is literally everything but that’s pretty much it. idk maybe there’s a metaphor in there that i’m missing who knows

also olivia was introduced so bonus points for that i guess. she reminds me of miss honey from matilda <33

8. The Ersatz Elevator

honestly i feel bad that this is only 8th but there are so many good ones imsorry. anyways esme and jerome got introduced in this one which gives is a LOT of extra points. i love esme and i pity jerome which makes me also love him. also shoutout to günther for being the only count olaf disguise that could theoretically get it.

my only issue with it is that jerome disowning the baudelaires was kinda forced yk?? like i know it had to happen for the plot to carry on but i don’t think he had a good reason to do it. i guess points for doing something other than just killing them off again?

7. The End

OKAY so you might be thinking “oh, this part is exactly in the middle! surely that means you’re neuteral about it” LMAO I WISH i have extreme positive and negative opinions.

okay so first off it took me a couple of rewatches to get this one because when i first watched it i didn’t know about the quote that it was referencing (“religion is the opium of the people”) but MAN they mentioned that quote in class and i was catatonic for like 2 minutes because oh my god. not only did the incredibly deadly viper come back (yippieee) but they also implied that in the bible adam and eve were actually saved from something by eating the fruit?? the 4chan atheist that lives in my head really likes this one, is what i’m saying. also i know i say that about all of them because my sense of humour is basically based on this series rn but it was so funny. i live and breathe for olaf’s lil christopher columbus moment.

sadly it does have its downsides (olaf and kit) (i really hate olaf and kit) (i don’t think they’re good together). i mean SURELY kit has better taste than that. i mean don’t get me wrong they’re both my favourite characters but they have no common ground on literally anything. plus this is biased but i liked him better with georgina or esme because they remind me of several songs i really like. they literally just pulled the kit x olaf thing out of their ass so that olaf would have some semblance of a reason to die. oh yea i also think olaf didn’t need to die, i know Kit didn’t eat the antidote because it would have affected the baby but olaf could have totally eaten it!! he was offered it!! he wasn’t pregnant!!! it was so out of charcater for him not to eat it!!

6. The Hostile Hospital

Okay this one is SUPER biased because as y’all probably know i love the mad scientist trope it is my favourite trope ever AND i love count olaf so seeing them get put together was so cool. I know I keep bringing this up but i really do love the aesthetics they’re so cool. also also loved all the horror film references. most importantly (actually not that important) esmes outfit went so fucking hard literally i will never recover from the sheer power and moxie of Knife Heels. When I become actually talented at textiles i will recreate her outfit and probably ruin my carpet with those heels.

5. The Bad Beginning

a classic <33 the netflix version of this was literally one of the funniest eps of anything i ever watched i could feel my brain chemistry being rearranged as i watched it. also count olaf’s best era idc what he did he was literally just being sillay. also it has one of the best songs in the series honestly. OH ALSO justice strauss <33 and the troupe <333 literally all the beloveds are here there are no flaws

4. The Reptile Room

MONTY <333 HIIII MONTYYYY <33333333 literally my fav character he has never done anything wrong in his life ever. Also I love his fucking house it’s so cool if I had that much money I too would base my entire house on my special interest. also one of the only parts of the nickelodeon movie i didn’t hate so that’s fun.

3. The Miserable Mill

Lots of cool shit here!! First of all Shirley served astronomical amounts of cunt she had zero bad lines. Also I honestly think Georgina and Olaf were so underrated they remind me of several songs i like also they’re both fucked up and evil <333 she’s like esme but without the ulterior sugar bowl motives. also the fact that her name is GEORGINA ORWELL like ok. queen of subtlety. Like I get it if I was named that I would prolly start hypnotising people too. I also kinda love orwellian themes yk those are always fun.

AND OMG HOW COULD I FORGET CHARLESSS i feel so bad for him constantly he has never done anything wrong in his life and is also inexplicably british i love him sm

2. The Penultimate Peril

I love a good reunion episode tbh i love seeing all the characters together <33 also like this episode is so fun to dissect? (is that the right word?) i loved figuring out who JS was i loved finding differences between Frank and Ernest I loved figuring out what the fuck was going on it was so fun it’s like the best thing about this series.

of course that’s only partially true tpp would be nothing without those sexy sexy monologues

1. The Vile Village

TVV BELOVED <33 I have a separate post about the but they literally have everything. it’s a metaphor for autism it’s a metaphor for religion it’s a metaphor for the school system is there anything they CANT do. Also this is like my 5th time saying this but there are 300+ characters and i’m an indecisive bitch so i will do it again. Hector the actual loml is literally my fav charcater hes so me. don’t worry dude i cant openly defy authority despite knowing its unjust either <3 literally we would be best friends irl. she’s RELATABLE she’s MORALLY AMBIGUOUS she has SEVERAL INTERPRETATIONS I AGREE WITH she’s STRANGE she’s everything you want in an asoue book honestly

Also detective dupin and officer luciana kinda slayed what was Wrong with them <3

[unfortunatetheorist]

What made The Sinister Duo take a liking to Esmé (during The Slippery Slope)? - NCT

This has been something I've been thinking about quite recently - what was it about Esmé that compelled The Sinister Duo to act the way they did towards her?

We obviously know that Esmé had told The Duo about her despicable acts of The Ersatz Elevator... but what if she told them more? What if she told them all about what happened between her and Olaf, every step of the way, from TEE to TSS?

Assuming this to be true, we get the following theory:

THEORY: The Duo manipulated Esmé into breaking up with Olaf.

Here's a few points about this:

The Duo and Esmé BOTH want the sugar bowl for the same reason - power. Olaf, however, has tunnel-vision on the Baudelaire (and, to an extent, Quagmire) fortune(s) and fails to recognise the importance of the Sugar Bowl.

The Duo get Esmé to agree with them on this point - and it works:

The Duo use the common ideology/goal of the Sugar Bowl to get Esmé to FOCUS on the Sugar Bowl, and GET RID OF OLAF - The Duo convince Esmé to see their point [which she does in TPP] - Olaf is of no use - in trying to get the Sugar Bowl AND as a fire-starting member of The Schism.

In The Penultimate Peril, Esmé realises the 'value' of The Duo's words, as she finally dumps Olaf.

Interestingly, this makes it VERY clear that The Duo can read (and predict) the emotions of others like a book; this is something they use to their advantage: they know Esmé is disappointed and angry with Olaf and Olaf is angry with himself; he's trying and failing to please his girlfriend, and he takes his anger out on the Baudelaires, which we really see during the 'shouty bit' of TGG:

"YES, I KNOW YOU WANT THE SUGAR BOWL! I'M GOING TO FIND IT FOR YOU, I PROMISE!" - Olaf to Esmé, TGG

¬ Th3r3534rch1ngr4ph, Unfortunate Theorist/Snicketologist

[cimmeriana]

❝  they don’t deserve you—  i don’t deserve you.  but at least i’m aware of it.  ❞ 😳

@backscar

Melinoe couldn't tell you what had possessed her to just burst into tears in front of him. She had tried so hard to keep herself contained, to continue on this night with their usual playful back-and-forth and to just push aside the complicated feelings that brewed within her.

There was something so very overwhelming about learning that the reason she had such dark urges whispering monstrosities in her head was because she was born a child of tyranny. There had never been love in her childhood, at least not real love. She never skipped rocks or got scooped up for kisses when she skimmed her knee.

It was why, at the end of it all when she laid down every night, she felt so dreadfully empty. It was why she found herself staring into an abyss to see a twisted smile of all sharp teeth staring back at her. It was why she clung to her companions so tightly, so very afraid of loosing them - even to lose the memory of them.

Deep down, she had known that being loved was an experience barred from her. That she was a tool to be used. A sword to be wielding. An insignificant cunt for seed to plant and more wretched to be born from.

And she knew in the pits of her, even without the memories flashing for her, that she had done and would have done all they asked because of how desperately she wanted to be loved.

A flood of tears washed over her ashen face, salty and stinging, unfamiliar to her usual expressionisms.

❝ Don't say that... please don't say that... ❞ she whimpered, her bottom lip shaking with the same severity as her hands as she reached up to scrub the ever-falling tears from aggravated cheeks.

—— ❝ You're my muse, Astarion. My inspiration and my hope. I see myself in you and every day you surprise me in your beautiful revelations and simple joys. Even when you brood and I can see in your eyes that you've disappeared to some far away realm that exists in your mind. I see you. ❞

Her tone was almost pleading and it felt as if her heart ripped open to empty at their feet as she stood so meekly before him, trembling like a lost little girl. ❝ Every day I think to myself: 'if this wonderful person could have endured for so long, longer than twice my own lifetimes, to get to a point that he can grow more and more every day right before my eyes... then perhaps I can endure.' Perhaps there's hope. Even when it feels so impossible. Even when I feel so trapped. ❞

—— ❝ My darling beastie, can't you see? Can't you see that its I who believes myself so undeserving of you? Of all of you that place your trust in my palm and set your tents beside mine? ❞

Finally, her crying had a moment of break. No, instead she was frustrated. Frustrated and angry that he would belittle himself in such a casual way as if she would allow it. How dare he. He was so precious to her and he dared to think so lowly of himself to not believe he deserve the care and kindness and love she tried so hard to bestow upon him?

❝ But you most of all, my most beloved Astarion, who has kept me company through my dreary and most haunted of nights. My most darling confidante who deserves to have the adoration and praises of every scholar and bard in all of the realms... I can give you so little of the whole you deserve because my heart was born empty from a father who reserved love only for himself and a mother who didn't know how to love something besides the god to whom she gave her entire soul. ❞ She had a resolve about her now. A resolve to cease her pity-party and to endure, to love and to care even harder. To procure those foreign concepts from thin damned air if she had to because she refused to become what her father wanted or a lamb like her mother.

She was her own person who could decide her own fate. Just as Astarion was his own man who could choose his own destiny. She believed in him, and how hypocritical would she be to prop him up with support that she didn't grace herself with too?

—— ❝ I will not allow for us to speak of ourselves in cruel such ways. Nevermore. You are deserving. And I am deserving. And we will learn to accept that. No matter how difficult and if we have to do it by taking turns holding the other as we're kicking and screaming. ❞

Melinoe sniffled, taking a deep breath before she rose her chin. She didn't feel entirely confident then, but she had to make herself be if she wanted to be better. If she wanted to truly live by her hope and belief that the both of them could be better.

❝ You're my most cherished companion in this silly little thing we mortals call life. Please don't sell yourself short or insult my choice in affections. ❞

[lucyrozes]

Water is not a friend to Hiccup and Toothless

[nomaishuttle]

aughhhhh i wish i had books 2 read i wanna read books so bad rn 🤓 <- i look like this. 2 pictures of me 👇

[weepinwriter]

Road to Heaven is an 18+ Dystopian fic which takes inspiration from popular media like the “Shatter Me” series and “Hunger Games”. It may contain distressing content like major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, body horror, amnesia and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

You are inmate No. 1441, incarcerated in Tartarus, the most notorious prison on the continent. You find yourself imprisoned for a crime that you do not remember committing, leaving you in a state of uncertainty about your own identity and purpose. The first memory you have is awakening to the sensation of a gun being shoved into your mouth.

Within the grim confines of Tartarus, you have been branded as the most dangerous criminal, feared yet hated by both fellow inmates and prison authorities alike. It becomes clear to you that in order to survive and unravel the enigma of your past, escape from this formidable penitentiary is imperative. However, achieving freedom will not be an easy feat, as you must navigate treacherous encounters with some of the most malevolent criminals known to humanity. In your quest for freedom, you find yourself entangled in complex relationships with three significant individuals. Firstly, your cellmate, whose icy demeanor suggests a deep-seated disdain for your very existence. Secondly, your best friend within the prison walls, whose seemingly excessive friendliness may harbor ulterior motives. Lastly, there is the warden, whose overtly amicable nature masks a peculiar familiarity with your past. As you navigate the perilous labyrinth of Tartarus, your ultimate objective is twofold: to survive amidst the most notorious criminals and uncover the truth about your forgotten past. In a world where danger lurks at every corner, you must tread carefully, for the path to redemption and self-discovery is riddled with uncertainty and perilous choices.

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Take control of your interactions with the characters and experience the world of Elysium City through a personalized scope.

Romance one of the 7 RO’s, and if you are charming enough, fall in love with any two of them. The four possible poly routes available are: The Cellmate and The Friend, The Warden and The Master, The Protector and The Master, The Cellmate and The Rebel

Struggle against the evil that wants you dead and uncover secrets about yourself

Accept your identity as an Esper and rediscover your powers, or completely reject them

Master your ability of Conscious Manipulation and perhaps learn a few things about yourself unexpectedly

Choose to make allies within Tartarus or antagonize them. Your choices have consequences

Lead a dying rebellion against the Hightable or join them as an equal

There are a total 7 romance options, each with their own personality and a story along with dark secrets for you to uncover

Survive

1. The Cellmate [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Twenty

A palpable enigma surrounds the inexplicable disdain they harbor towards you, leaving you to ponder if your past misdeeds have sowed the seeds of their ire. Your questions remain unanswered, rarely do they grace you with a response, and when they do, it arrives veiled in hateful glares and a tapestry of venomous words. The origins of their animosity remain shrouded in silence, with fellow inmates mirroring their reticence. Only when they are complaining about the prison's wretched conditions and the Warden's despotic rule do they momentarily shed their icy facade, revealing hints of vulnerability and human emotion. When they do smile, albeit rarely, it is a fleeting moment of breathtaking beauty. If only you could find the courage to tell them that.

[ Number 1579 is an S rank Arcane Tendency Esper with the Cryokinesis ability. They are under Libra’s Jurisdiction, and thus only follow orders coming directly from them. ]

Other Tropes : Emotional Scars, Nobody thinks it’ll actually work, Hate Sex

2. The Warden? [m] | ???

Subject Name : Nikita

There is an uncanny familiarity surrounding him, leaving you torn between the unsettling grip of dread and the elusive allure of desire. He claims to know you personally. Apparently the two of you were close friends before The Incident. Yet, when you press for details, he skillfully redirects the conversation before your emotions can catch up. "The past is but a fleeting shadow," he says, "no need to talk about something that can't be changed. Besides, you wouldn't remember anything." Evidently your memories had been erased. The question of who hangs heavy in the air, but his response remains enigmatic, offering only a mirthless smile.

[ Nikita is the Warden of Tartarus, the Reformation Asylum in Sector 10, 8th District. He is under Scorpio's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Slowburn, Betrayal, Puppy play

3. The Friend [f/m] | Friends to Lovers

Subject Name : Victor (m.) | Vanessa (f.)

A compassionate and devoted companion, V. shines as a beacon of light in the desolate depths of this grim abyss that became your world. From the moment you opened your eyes, they extended a helping hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine complexities of Tartarus and easing your transition into this unfamiliar realm. Unfazed by the venomous whispers that tarnish your reputation, they remain steadfastly by your side, unwavering in their loyalty. Their warm smiles and whimsical wordplay serve as a balm, mending your wounded spirit after every bitter clash with Twenty. How fortunate you are to be blessed with such an illuminating presence, brightening the shadows that consume your existence.

[ Number 1339 is an A rank Catalyst Tendency Esper with the Illusion Manipulation ability. They are under Scorpio’s Jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Partners in crime, First Love, Good people get good sex, Slight yandere

4. The Count/Countless [f/m] | Forbidden Romance (relationship history can be friends with benefits)

Subject Name : Emir (m.) | Evara(f.)

A remarkable visionary and an exceptional entrepreneur, E. stands as an unrivaled figure in the illustrious realm of Elysium City. Holding the distinction of being the youngest Grandmaster in history and amassing unparalleled wealth, they reign as the CEO of the renowned Quinn Industries. E. is adorned with numerous titles within the esteemed echelons of society, serving as an icon of inspiration and a beacon of hope, while simultaneously arousing envy in the hearts of many. An arrogant and proud individual, their ugliness is conveniently covered by their astonishing fortune, combined with innate brilliance, seems almost mystical, as if destined for greatness from their very birth. Within Elysium City's grand social tapestry, few possess the persuasive prowess to sway the decisions of the Hightable itself, yet E. stands tall even among this select few. As an eligible bachelor, their daily inundation of love letters and marriage proposals is a testament to their allure. And yet, amidst all this splendor, it is you who has found a place of interest in their extraordinary life.

[ E. is a part of The Senate and thus does not fall under any District's jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Belated love epiphany, Billionaire, Power play, Daddy/Mommy kink

5. The Master [f] | Forbidden Romance

Subject Name : Leo

In her calculated pursuit, you find yourself ensnared. Your allure captivates her discerning gaze, for you possess what she desires most. You are the coveted object of her desires. In this strategic game, you are but a pawn, a possession within her calculated grasp. Yet, curiously she maintains a measured distance. Her reason? She eloquently articulates, “Witnessing the growth of one's possession is a fascinating phenomenon.”

[ Leo is the Master of {DATA REDACTED}. They are the Ruler of the 5th District. ]

Other Tropes : Secret Identity, Second Chance, Blood play, Begging

6. The Protector [m] | Bodyguard Romance

Subject Name : Caesar

A battle-hardened soldier, Caesar bears the scars of a lifetime spent serving the FAE and the city. With an intimacy unparalleled, he has danced with mortality on numerous occasions, making death a companion rather than an adversary. Yet, behind that facade of strength, Caesar is a fractured soul, haunted by insecurities and a self-destructive nature. His journey, filled with shattered dreams and the weight of his daughter's aspirations, has brought him to the edge of despair. The immortality he once embraced now feels like a curse, a harbinger of misfortune that has become synonymous with his presence. In his eyes, he sees himself as not a protector but a bearer of ill fate. However, the stars, in an unexpected alignment, have granted him a final purpose: to protect you. Beneath the intimidating exterior lies a gentle giant, yet one plagued by a profound sense of self-loathing. He grapples with the belief that his very existence is a catalyst for tragedy, a vortex that draws calamity toward him and those he holds dear. Intrigued by this complex guardian, you see the duality within Caesar — an attentive and understanding individual burdened by the weight of his own perceived malevolence. As you navigate through the intricate layers of his psyche, perhaps you could help him ease his suffering, even by a little.

[ Caesar is a registered S rank Endura Tendency Esper with the Regeneration ability. He comes under Leo’s jurisdiction. ]

Other Tropes : Beauty and the Beast, Single parent, Stop calling me daddy

7. The Rebel [f/m] | Enemies to Lovers

Subject Name : Gael (m.) | Gwendolyn (f.)

You betrayed them. Or perhaps it's the other way around? You do not remember. The trust you once held dear has been shattered, and now you must face the price for your misguided beliefs. Like a fool enchanted by deceit, you must bear the weight of your choices. Remember this lesson, for betrayal's toll is a heavy one to pay. Proceed with caution, lest you become ensnared in the web of your own treachery.

[ There is no known information on this individual. Extreme caution is recommended. ]

Other Tropes : Amnesia, Revenge, Redemption, Breathe play

Links

[ DEMO ]

[ PINTEREST ]

[ THE DISTRICTS ]

[ THE HIGHTABLE ]

All asks and reposts are welcome 😁!

[txttletale]

Hi! Do you think you could link me to some resources about the problems/ evils of the EU? Would love to find some but it's hard to know what's reliable when I have no base knowledge in this area + you seem very well informed :)

sure. let's start with what the EU does to its own member states--in 2009, the EU bailed the greek government out of severe debt on the condition that they establish brutal austerity measures, cutting public spending and welfare. these measures served to immiserate and destroy the lives of thousands of greek people:

Greek mortality has worsened significantly since the beginning of the century. In 2000, the death rate per 100,000 people was 944.5. By 2016, it had risen to 1174.9, with most of the increase taking place from 2010 onwards.

[forbes]

Since the implementation of the austerity programme, Greece has reduced its ratio of health-care expenditure to GDP to one of the lowest within the EU, with 50% less public hospital funding in 2015 than in 2009. This reduction has left hospitals with a deficit in basic supplies, while consumers are challenged by transient drug shortages.

[the lancet]

The homeless population is thought to have grown by 25 per cent since 2009, now numbering 20,000 people.

[oxfam]

the most brutal treatment, however, the EU of course reserves for migrants from the global south. the EU sets strict migration quotas and uses its member states as weapons against desperate people fleeing across the mediterranean. boats are prevented from landing, migrants that do make it to land are repelled with brutal violence, and refugees are deported back to countries where their lives are in lethal danger. these policies have led to many, many deaths--and the refugees and migrants who do survive are treating fucking inhumanely.

After a perilous journey across the desert, Abdulaziz was locked up in Triq al-Sikka, a grim prison in Tripoli, Libya. Why? Because the EU pays Libyan militias millions of euros to detain anyone deemed a possible migrant to Europe [...] A leaked EU internal memorandum in 2020 acknowledged that capturing migrants was now “a profitable business model” [...] in Triq al-Sikka and other detention centres, “acts of murder, enslavement, torture, rape and other inhumane acts are committed against migrants”, observed a damning UN report.

[the guardian]

Volunteers have logged more than 27,000 deaths by drowning since 1993, often hundreds at a time when large ships capsize. These account for nearly 80% of all the entries.

[the guardian]

Refugees and asylum seekers were punched, slapped, beaten with truncheons, weapons, sticks or branches, by police or border guards who often removed their ID tags or badges, the committee said in its annual report. People on the move were subject to pushbacks, expulsion from European states, either by land or sea, without having asylum claims heard. Victims were also subject to “inhuman and degrading treatment”, such as having bullets fired close to their bodies while they lay on the ground, being pushed into rivers, sometimes with hands tied, or being forced to walk barefoot or even naked across a border.

[the guardian]

In September, Greece opened a refugee camp on the island of Samos that has been described as prison-like. The €38m (£32m) facility for 3,000 asylum seekers has military-grade fencing and CCTV to track people’s movements. Access is controlled by fingerprint, turnstiles and X-rays. A private security company and 50 uniformed officers monitor the camp. It is the first of five that Greece has planned; two more opened in November.

[the guardian]

i could go on. i could cite dozens more similarly brutal news stories about horrific mistreatment, or any of the dozens of people who have killed themselves in the custody of border police under horrific conditions. the EU is a murderous institution that does not care about the lives of refugees and migrants or about the lives of the citizens of any member state that is not pursuing a vicious enough neoliberal political program

[protectionsquad24601]

People who say "I don't like asoue bc it's formulaic" miss the point bc

-it starts as a formula, a cycle of the Baudelaires being abused and mistreated bc IT'S A CYCLE THAT THEY'RE STUCK IN!! A cycle of evil and ignorence. They're being tossed around by the world and they need to get out of the cycle themselves.

-the cycle: they go to a new guardian, led by Mr. Poe, who ignores the problems about the situation. Count Olaf is stalking them, trying to kill the Baudelaires and steal their fortune.

-as is the rules with poetry and writing, you have to repeat something a few times to mess around with the formula, which you see is changed as early as the Miserable Mill. There's a poetic quality to the repetition, as well as when and how it changes.

-as it goes on, you see their passiveness being increasingly replaced with action that culminates at the end of the Vile Village, where they run away. In doing so, they've cut off the "new guardian" element to the cycle.

-they're trying to save the Quagmires and figure things out on their own. But two crucial elements to their cycle haven't been broken: they still are trying to contact Mr. Poe and they are still being hunted by Count Olaf.

-in the Grim Grotto, they break Mr. Poe out of the cycle.

-in the first chapter of the Bad Beginning, Mr. Poe meets the children on Briny Beach to inform them of the death of their parents. They come with him.

-at the end of Grim Grotto, they meet him again at Briny Beach and refuse to come, choosing instead to listen to a mysterious stranger and coded message. They choose autonomy. They choose to try to learn and figure things out. Active, not passive.

-in the Penultimate Peril is an effort to cut ties with Count Olaf once and for all as well as obtaining roles from both sides of VFD.

-but they can't get rid of Olaf and they can't let him go. Bc the last part of the cycle needs to be permanently put to rest.

-YES; Olaf hunts them throughout every book. That's. The. Point.

-Olaf needed to DIE before they could leave the island in The End.

-Olaf needed to die before they could move on.

-Olaf's death cut the final current in their cycle, ending the formula and therefore ending the series. Cutting out all the "repetitive" elements of the series made it finally end.

-they broke the cycle. That's why they could be free.

UGH I have so many thoughts

One day I'll write up this theory more cohesiveness.

[enderham]

"I dreamt that you died." Aventurine says, apropos of nothing.

Veritas lifts his gaze from the book he'd been reading, across the first class cabin they're sharing, and to his colleague. Nothing in his expression betrays any emotion or thought about the statement he let out into the world, as is customary for the gambler. Veritas takes a moment to study him more thoroughly.

Aventurine isn't looking at him. The chip in his hand is dancing faster than usual, he's wearing his tinted glasses despite there being no need for them on the transport, and his other hand is hidden in his coat. Veritas has learned to look for that left hand whenever he suspects something is amiss with Aventurine.

He considers his next words carefully. "In many cultures across the galaxy, dreaming of someone's death is believed to produce the opposite effect. It is considered a good omen that brings longevity and prosperity."

There's a long moment of silence, then the chip suddenly stops. Aventurine had been looking at him from the corner of his eye, an indicator that he was listening as Veritas spoke, but he looks away again now.

"Not in mine," He says lightly, almost sings it.

It sounds like mockery, like Aventurine's typical attempts to get a rise out of him, like contradiction for the sake of it, but Veritas knows him better than that. The gambler may seem frivolous on the surface but he always speaks with purpose. The trick is figuring out what that purpose is.

Closing his book, Veritas leans forward, almost into Aventurine's space. The other does not lean away, and finally looks him in the eye, but he can see his shoulders are tense. His left hand is still hidden in his coat. Perhaps, instead of a non-sequitor, his opening statement was a damning admission, Veritas thinks.

"We both know this upcoming mission will be dangerous." He says quietly, he doesn't expect Aventurine to interject, but he pauses anyway. True to expectation, Aventurine stays silent, watching him intently. Veritas continues. "However, we also both know that your role in it is much more perilous than mine. I believe you made sure of that yourself, no?"

The gambler still remains uncharacteristically silent. Gauging Veritas' reaction to his grim statements no doubt. Veritas has passed many a test in his university days with little stress, so it is a new feeling to experience, this uncertainty. He feels like there is a right and a wrong thing to say in this situation, yet he does not know exactly what it is.

"It is my opinion that you should be worrying about yourself, gambler, instead of me, but if it eases your mind, I shall promise to stay alert on Penacony. Not that I wouldn't otherwise be, as you should well know by now."

Perhaps he's revealed too much, shown his hand, as the resident gambler would say, but he's found himself much too invested in said gambler's emotional wellbeing as of late, so he doesn't mind. Especially as that wary glint fades just a little from Aventurine's vibrant eyes, and he wrestles his signature grin back onto his face.

"True to form as usual." He teases. "I can always rely on you to bring rationality to the table, Doctor."

[lilyway]

Icarus {Alastor x Reader} Part 1

Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death and canon-typical violence. Please be aware of these warnings going forward.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Sequel

Part 1: The Road Back to You

The town was cloaked in a dimly lit embrace as a young woman emerged from the confines of the jazz club alongside her coworkers. Their rising star, a vision of elegance and charm, illuminated the night with her radiant smile, her presence akin to that of a belle of the ball, her heart as vibrant as the melodies she sang.

As they stepped onto the cobblestone streets, the camaraderie among them blossomed into animated chatter, punctuated by laughter that danced upon the evening breeze.

Tonight was special, a rare occasion when the jazz club closed its doors early to commemorate the birthday of their esteemed boss. The air buzzed with anticipation, the promise of celebration lingering in every corner as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets.

Their songstress was quick as she pulled her purse to her side and started walking away while saying her goodbyes. She had some very important plans with her husband, perhaps she was too excited as she practically skipped her way down the street. 

As she traversed the dimly lit street of New Orleans, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of caution that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness. The presence of a serial killer, a phantom lurking in the shadows, cast a long shadow over the once-vibrant city. 

Each night, as she tuned in to her husband's somber voice on the radio, recounting the grim details of yet another victim claimed by the darkness, she couldn't help but wonder if she, too, danced perilously close to the edge of danger.

The danger that would come and soon claim her own life to their ever-increasing number of victims. But, there would be nothing in the world to stop her from returning to her husband. Her husband said he had something planned for their anniversary and that she would need her best dress. 

She was beyond excited.

"(Name)! Sugar, are you sure I can’t give you a lift home?" Rowan's voice called out from the doorway, his Southern drawl carrying the warmth of a bourbon-soaked evening. (Name) turned, her smile as dazzling as a string of pearls, her curls bouncing with the rhythm of a Charleston beat.

"Thank you kindly, Rowan! My husband will be meeting me halfway," She replied, her words dripping with honey. With a graceful wave, she turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels blending with the syncopated melody of the night as she made her way toward the radio station.

The dim glow of the radio station beckoned in the distance, the building was a beacon of safety amidst the dark empty city streets. With each hurried step, (Name)'s heart quickened, the anticipation of her husband's waiting embrace urging her onwards. 

As she rounded the corner, her gaze caught sight of the alleyway, a narrow passage veiled in darkness, where the plaintive cries of a woman pierced the stillness of the night. Without hesitation, without a second thought, she veered from her path, drawn by her concern for the unknown woman.

There, amidst the shadows, she found them – a young girl, trembling with fear, and her mother shielding her from a group of thugs that loomed over them. 

She should have turned away, and retreated to the safety of the main street, where she could’ve asked for help. Her husband knew his way around self-defense and they would have a phone to call the police.

But (Name) had a terrible feeling in her gut. If she left them now, these women might not be alive when help arrives. 

"What do you gents reckon you're up to?" That seemed to get their attention as they turned to face her. As she walked towards the two women, she couldn’t help feeling so small as the men dwarfed her in size.

"Turn back, doll," one of the men jeered, his tone dripping with menace. "We ain't lookin' for trouble."

(Name) positioned herself between the two trembling women and the menacing thugs, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. "Leave these poor dames be! If it's coin you're after, I can see you compensated," Her declaration must have seemed like a bluff. Her voice quivered as she placed one hand on her purse. 

The thugs, their laughter echoing in the narrow alley, closed in on her, their intentions clear as the moonlight filtered through the darkness. "This ain't about the scratch, sweetheart," one of them sneered, the glint of malice dancing in his eyes. (Name)'s breath caught in her throat as she took a cautious step back, her resolve tested by the looming threat that surrounded her. "This is about settlin' scores."

"Please, just let them be," (Name) pleaded, but her words fell upon deaf ears, drowned out by their laughter. Their leader pulled out a blade as he approached the crying women. 

Before she could react, one of the men seized her arm in a vice-like grip, wrenching her aside with a savage force. "Just watch, my dear," Another man sneered, his voice dripping with malice as (Name) struggled against his hold. 

With a surge of adrenaline, (Name) pushed his hand toward her mouth, her teeth sinking into flesh with a ferocity that seemed downright foreign to her. As he howled in agony, she wrenched herself free from his grasp, her heart was beating loudly in her chest and she wasn’t thinking straight. 

With trembling hands, she lunged toward their assailant, her fingers grappling for purchase upon the blade. The metal bit into her skin, drawing blood, but she was beyond desperate, driven to protect the helpless young women. 

“Run!” (Name) shouted as they stared at her like deers in headlights. 

Even as she fought with every fiber of her being, the odds stacked against her, (Name) refused to yield. She could feel the sharp sting of pain as the blade cut into her hands, but she pressed on, fueled by sheer determination and the fierce resolve to survive.

Meanwhile, the two women forced themselves to their feet and ran, their cries for help echoing through the alleyway. (Name) couldn’t help but feel a smirk on her lips, before another man pulled her hair back trying to claw her hands away from the blade. 

With every ounce of strength she could muster, she battled against the relentless onslaught, her hands slick with sweat and blood as she grappled for control. But in the end, it was a futile struggle, a desperate fight that meant nothing. As the assailant's blade found its mark, plunging deep into her flesh. 

As (Name)’s body fell to the ground, there was the sound of fleeing footsteps and gunfire. All she could do was close her eyes and pray the pain went away. All she could do was lay there and feel her blood pool around her as she choked on the blade as her blood suffocated her lungs. 

She was so close to seeing her beloved radio host too. 

The sound of footsteps running towards her and her name came after. The voice was too distant to hear as she drifted off and prayed she’d see her beloved radio host when she woke up. 

💟

As (Name)'s eyes fluttered open, she found herself standing before majestic golden gates, their brilliance illuminating the ethereal surroundings with a celestial glow. A wave of disbelief washed over her as she pushed herself up, half-expecting to feel the sting of pain or the weight of wounds that should have marked her body. But there was nothing – no trace of blood, no lingering ache – only a sense of surreal tranquility that enveloped her being.

Clad in a flowing white dress reminiscent of the ones she wore during her performances at the jazz club, her hair cascading down her back like a river of silk, she realized at the start that this was no hospital. It wasn’t a place that could be built by man and that started to make her panic. 

"Where am I?" Her voice trembled with uncertainty as she spoke aloud, her eyes searching the expanse before her. And then, as if in response to her query, an angelic figure with a thick book turned towards her, his presence confirmed her fears. This wasn’t New Orleans. 

"You're in heaven! Congratulations, you're a winner!" His words, spoken with pride and joy, hung in the air like a gentle breeze, filling the space with a sense of awe and wonder. But for (Name), the revelation struck like someone poured ice water all over her. 

"No. No. No, no, no, no." Her voice cracked as felt her legs turn to jelly. This was not a dream, not a figment of her imagination – she was dead. She died saving those two women on the eve of her anniversary. “I wasn’t supposed to die like this! I have to go back! My husband! Good heavens, I’m not ready to leave him yet…” Her begging seemed to have no effect as the angel got up out of his chair. 

(Name)’s tears seemed to touch the man, but it didn’t faze him whatsoever. “This is the end of the road, miss. There’s only joy from here.” 

"Please, let me go back!" Her plea, filled with anguish and longing, echoed through the hallowed halls of heaven, a desperate cry for a second chance, for a return to the life she had been torn away from. As she crumpled to the ground, her hands pressed against her tear-streaked face, she grappled with the cruel irony of her fate – a life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

As (Name) crumpled before the gates of Heaven, her sobs seemed to never end. "Please, let me return to my old life," she implored, her voice choking on her despair of dying so easily. 

"Shh, my dear," came the gentle reply, a soothing murmur amidst the tumult of her anguish.

"I'm begging you. Let me go back," she persisted, her voice trembling with a fervent plea for a reprieve, for a chance for a rewrite, for her to choose something different. 

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible. This is the end of the road, the culmination of the life you were promised for all the good you've done in this world," the angel explained, his tone tinged with a solemn finality that brooked no argument.

"Let me see my husband! I haven't said goodbye!" (Name)'s words, tinged with desperation, hung in the air like a prayer unanswered, her heart aching for one last embrace, one final moment of solace in the arms of her beloved.

"Again, I'm sorry. But that isn't possible, "The angel replied, his voice tinged with sympathy. "But, may I ask your name?"

"(Name)," she replied, her voice barely a whisper as she pulled herself up off the floor. 

"Full name, please," the angel persisted, his gaze unwavering, as he started flipping through the book and sighed at all the names on the page. 

"(Name) Winters," she confessed, her last name was a reminder of happier days. The day she joined her husband's family and took on his last name. 

With a gentle rustle of pages, the angel consulted the book before him, his expression softening as he found her name inscribed upon its hallowed pages. "There you are, on the list," he confirmed, his voice tinged with reassurance. "Dry your tears, my dear, and come on in."

"But, my husband-" (Name) was quickly interrupted by the angel. 

"He might show up in heaven someday," the angel offered, “As long as he doesn’t end up in hell. There’s a chance he might come back.” 

As (Name) gazed upon the gates of Heaven, her heart was heavy, wanted to be able to greet him with a smile. “Okay.” 

💟

The celestial streets of heaven bustled with the vibrant energy of joyous winners, their laughter and song echoing through the golden expanse. Yet, amidst the revelry, (Name) found herself perched on her rooftop, a quiet observer of the lively scene below. Today, the usual melodies and dance numbers failed to lift her spirits. 

As she leaned over the balcony, the celestial breeze playing with her hair, (Name) contemplated the passage of time, and how meaningless it truly was. There was no sense of actual time in this place. She would’ve been here for a week or twenty years. 

How long had she been in this place of eternal bliss? The passing of time seemed to blur into an endless expanse of moments, each one blending seamlessly into the next. Her parents had found their way here, as had her little sister, their laughter and love echoing through the hallowed halls of heaven. 

And yet, her brothers remained conspicuously absent, their absence a silent ache that gnawed her. Enough time must have gone by for them to show up. They couldn’t have ended up anywhere else other than in heaven! They were around the same age as her husband and would come up around the same time. 

As she leaned over the balcony, the angels below danced and sang of pastries and delights, their voices like honeyed nectar amidst the gentle breeze. But for (Name), their songs felt hollow, their melodies unable to penetrate the veil of sorrow that pulled her under. 

Even in her sorrow, there was a little flame of hope that flickered brightly. Perhaps, she thought, a song could indeed work wonders, lifting her from the depths of her melancholy.

As (Name)'s voice trembled with emotion, her words carried her pain along the wind. "I never needed anybody in my life, " As the notes danced upon the wind, images flickered in her mind.

Her husband's brown fluffy hair, tousled by the gentle breeze, his charismatic smile lighting up the streets as they walked arm in arm. How her days were bright and simple back then. With the minor inconveniences and the small pleasures it held. 

"I learned the truth too late, " she continued, her voice wavered as the tears threatened to fall. With each verse, the distance between them felt like an impassable chasm, one that would pull her into its lonely depths. 

As she pulled herself away from the edge of the balcony, her eyes remained fixed upon the golden gates. How she was starting to despise herself and her self-pity here. 

Her words became a lament, a melody of longing and her pain as she wished for her old life back. " I close my eyes but he's still there, " Her voice trembling as the image of her beloved husband materialized before her. 

He was bathed in a golden light making him appear as a gift from God himself. She craned her neck up to look at him and there was a surge of hope. (Name) reached out to hold him and cry into his arms. Only to watch him vanish in the wisp of glowing smoke at the smallest touch of her fingertips. 

“Even as he fades from view,” Her voice quickly got louder with every passing syllable. 

You’re never fully dressed without a smile, my dear. His voice echoed loud and clear in her mind as she forced a smile on her face as the tears forced themselves out. "He will still inspire me, and be a part of everything I do," 

As she pulled herself onto the balcony railing, her wings unfurled and she jumped off the edge. She watched the other winners sing and dance below her as they enjoyed their eternal life. However, (Name) had another plan in mind. She set out for the gates as she stumbled her landing as she arrived. 

"Wasting in my lonely tower, awaiting by an open door," she sang, her voice rising like a prayer into the heavens above. And as she reached out towards the gates, her fingers brushed against the gilded bars, and her small flicker of hope died instantly. 

There wasn’t anyone at the gates and she was just being delusional. He wasn’t coming up here anymore. That her dear, Al was still back on earth and it was a place (Name) wished he stayed. 

"I'll fool myself and he'll walk right in," she whispered, her voice breaking as she tried to maintain some level of internal harmony. Her hands clung to the bars hoping the gates would open and let her out. Just five more minutes on earth and she would gladly join the rest of the winners.  “Waiting here for evermore…”  

But her solitude was shattered by the harsh voice of an angel, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. "You're pathetic," she sneered, her tone dripping with disdain. "If he isn't here by now, he's in hell."

"That was quite uncalled for.” (Name) spat as she walked past her. She could tell this woman had something up her sleeve and she wanted no part of it. 

“I call it as I see it,” the woman retorted, her voice dripping with disdain. No, that wasn’t right. This woman was downright looking down at her like she was a piece of garbage. 

(Name) scoffed as she tried to keep herself focused on just walking away. “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” 

“Better than singing her problems,” The woman shot back, her words stabbed daggers into her feet and rooted her in place. 

(Name) crossed her arms, she was getting fed up and there wasn’t a point in picking a fight in heaven. “You're quite the piece of work, aren't you? Do you need something?”

The woman’s response was curt. “No.”

“Okay, I'll be on my way then,” (Name) replied, her steps quickening. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling of the woman’s eyes boring into her back. “What do you want?”

But before she could receive an answer, the woman’s voice taunted her, sending a shiver down her spine. “With that obsession of yours, there’s only one place you’ll end up.”

(Name) wished that her voice didn’t shake and give her away. She didn’t want to kiss her place in heaven goodbye for her stupidity. “What are you saying?” 

“You look like you need a purpose.” 

“I don't need a purpose,”

The woman laughed as (Name) felt a chill going down her spine. "The rate you’re going, you won’t need one and burn with the rest of the sinners in hell."

"I earned my place here," (Name) countered, her voice trembling, as she tried to keep herself from shaking. She couldn’t ever go to hell and become a fallen angel. 

"Keep telling yourself that,"

(Name)'s mind raced with questions, her unease growing with each passing moment. "What are you getting at?" she demanded, her voice betraying a hint of desperation. She wouldn’t ever end up there. 

"I'm offering you a deal,"

"I don't want it,"

"Suit yourself, but you'll be back. Come and find me when you've run out of options," With her business done, the woman took to the skies and (Name) shouted for her to wait. 

She didn’t mean to yell her question at her. “If that ever happens. What's your name? So, I can find you.” 

“Lute.” 

💟

Another decade passed in heaven and (Name)’s search for her husband and some clue of his whereabouts were fruitless. Every passing year that she searched a small part of her died, first few years it was her hope and later it was her love. (Name) having to come up empty-handed every single time took its toll. 

In the quiet moments of solitude, (Name) grappled with the bitter truth that her love may never return to her side. The echoes of his laughter and the warmth of his embrace seemed like distant memories, fading into the recesses of her mind like whispers carried away by the wind.

In her solitude, came the truths she refused to face. That her soul was becoming consumed by her envy and prayers to see him again. She longed to feel his presence once more, to hear his voice echoing through the golden streets of paradise. There was something about being condemned to paradise without all your loved ones that was driving her insane. When did he become her world? When did she corrupt her pure unconditional love for him? Why was she so hung up on him even now? 

Alastor,  her dear husband. 

Her beloved husband and her world. He would never come, and her prayers wouldn’t be answered. Alastor would forever be beyond her reach and never be someone she could hold again. 

Alastor would never come, because he was in hell. As much as she refused to believe it or admit it. Deep down? She knew. Her husband was being tortured in hell for reasons that were foreign to her. 

Alastor would never be here. He would never come. (Name) would never hear him play his piano as she sang or snuggle up to him when he read the morning paper. Or touch his hair and wear his glasses. 

He was in the worst place now and that was final. The place that tortured those who lived vile lives. A pit with killers, cannibals, terrorists, and abusers. 

She wanted nothing more than to forget. 

Which lead her here, in front of the Exorcist’s main building with a meeting in place with Lute. She did her homework and quickly learned she was a fearsome fighter. But, more importantly, she was Adam’s right hand. 

She did exactly what Lute said she would do. (Name) would come back for that deal. She would screw everything she had ever hoped to do here. As long as Lute would give her a purpose and a method to prevent her from falling to hell. 

(Name) was going to take that damn deal. 

And so, with a heavy heart and a steely resolve, (Name) made her decision. She would embrace the deal offered by Lute, no matter the cost. She would forsake everything she had ever known, everything she had ever hoped to become, in exchange for a chance at redemption.

Her heart ached as she pushed the doors open and saw Lute and Adam awaiting her. Adam looked bored as she ate his lunch and Lute seemed to have a wicked grin on her face. 

"Took you long enough," Lute might have been grinning, but her tone was anything but one of joy. She seemed more annoyed than anything else.

(Name) straightened her posture as she held her hands tightly.  “You said you had a deal for me.” 

"The deal to prevent you from becoming a loser?" Lute sneered,

"No," (Name) retorted, her gaze narrowing. "Make a deal with me to forget him."

A wicked grin spread across Lute's face, sending shivers down (Name)'s spine. "I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she declared, her eyes glittering with malevolent intent as she extended her gloved hand toward (Name).

With a deep breath, (Name) reached out and grasped Lute's hand in a firm shake, sealing her fate. There was no turning back now, no retreat from the path she had chosen. She knew the road ahead would be fraught with peril and pain, but she was willing to endure it all if it meant escaping the clutches of damnation.

It was a price she’d pay willingly if she could avoid joining the ranks of the sinners. 

"Deal," Her voice was one of determination as her heart wept at her decision. 

"Welcome to the exorcists,"

(Name) offered a silent nod of gratitude as she clenched her hands into her dress for something to calm her nerves. She had picked her fate and would find herself in the care of these two sadistic angels. But, she wouldn’t let herself be down on the first step of her journey. 

“It’s a pleasure to be here.” 

There was no going back now,

No escape that she was willing to take. 

The only escape was forsaking her place in heaven. 

And she would rather have a permanent death. 

This was cross posted on A03!

The song she sings is Evermore from Beauty and the Beast from the live action.

[imaginesforfandom]

A Wolverine's Heartache - Part III

Part I Part II

i'm so sorry it took so long for me to post this!! i've been drowning in work :,(

Logan/James Howlett x Reader

She/Her pronouns used!!

Summary: Logan struggles after seeing a person he loves alive. Will he be able to save her?

In the moments leading up to Logan's journey back in time, the Xavier Institute was a hub of frantic activity, a beacon of hope in the face of impending doom. The threat of the Sentinels loomed large, casting a shadow of fear and uncertainty over the mutant community.

Logan, haunted by the memory of Y/N's tragic death and driven by a desperate need to prevent further loss, had become the linchpin in a daring plan to alter the course of history. With the help of Professor Xavier and a handful of trusted allies, Logan prepared to embark on a mission that would defy the very fabric of time itself.

The decision to send Logan back in time was not made lightly. It required sacrifices – sacrifices that weighed heavily on the hearts of those left behind. Yet, in the face of imminent destruction, there was no room for hesitation.

As Logan stood before the makeshift time-travel device, his resolve hardened like steel. The weight of his mission bore down on him, a burden he carried with grim determination. He knew the risks – the possibility of altering the timeline, of facing enemies both old and new – but the chance to rewrite history and save those he loved was a gamble he was willing to take.

Before he could second-guess himself, Logan braced himself for the journey ahead. With a final glance at his comrades, a silent promise etched in his eyes, he stepped into the swirling vortex of energy, disappearing into the unknown depths of the past.

In that pivotal moment, the fate of the world hung in the balance. For Logan, it was a journey fraught with peril and uncertainty, but it was also a journey fueled by hope – hope for redemption, for a chance to right the wrongs of the past, and for a future where Y/N's death would be nothing more than a distant memory.

As Logan's consciousness shifted through time, propelled back to a pivotal moment before the devastation wrought by the Sentinels, a sense of urgency gripped him like a vice. His mission was clear: to prevent the cataclysmic events that had led to Y/N's tragic demise.

Arriving in the past, Logan found himself in a world that was both familiar and yet subtly different. The Xavier Institute bustled with life, its halls alive with the laughter of students and the gentle hum of telepathic conversations. But for Logan, it was a world tinged with sorrow, a reminder of the losses he had endured.

As he navigated the bustling corridors, searching for allies to aid him in his quest, Logan's heart quickened at the thought of encountering Y/N. She existed in this timeline, vibrant and alive, yet unaware of the role she would play in shaping their shared destiny.

When Logan finally came face to face with Y/N, his breath caught in his throat. She was different here – a younger version of the person he had known, her features softened by innocence and untainted by the scars of war. And yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in her presence, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time.

As their eyes met, Logan felt a surge of emotions wash over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs. In that fleeting moment, he saw echoes of the Y/N he had lost, a reminder of the bond they had shared across time and space.

But for Y/N, Logan was a stranger – a mysterious figure with haunted eyes and a sense of purpose that seemed to emanate from his very being. And yet, there was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that stirred something within her – a feeling she couldn't quite place.

As Logan reached out to Y/N, his hand trembling with the weight of unspoken truths, he knew that convincing her to join him would be no easy task. But for Y/N, Logan's presence ignited a spark of curiosity, a whisper of destiny that beckoned her towards a future she could not yet fathom.

As Logan stood before the younger version of Y/N, his heart clenched with a mixture of emotions – longing, regret, and an urgent sense of purpose. He knew that convincing her of the impending danger would be no easy task, especially considering she had no recollection of their shared history.

Y/N regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, her brows furrowed in confusion. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

Logan took a deep breath, steeling himself for the difficult task ahead. "I know this is hard to believe, but you need to listen to me. I'm from the future, and I've seen what happens if we don't act now."

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping her lips. "From the future? That's impossible. Why should I trust you?"

Logan knew he had to choose his words carefully, to break through the wall of skepticism that surrounded her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I've seen the devastation caused by the Sentinels. They've hunted us down, taken everything from us. If we don't stop them now, there won't be a future for any of us."

Y/N's expression softened slightly, but her hesitation remained palpable. "And why should I believe you? You could be anyone, spinning tales to manipulate me."

Logan's jaw tightened with frustration, but he forced himself to remain calm. He understood her skepticism – after all, he was asking her to believe in the impossible. "I understand your doubts, but you have to trust me. Lives are at stake here, including yours. We need to work together to stop this."

Y/N's gaze flickered with uncertainty, torn between disbelief and a nagging sense of curiosity. She wanted to dismiss Logan's words as the ramblings of a madman, but there was something in his eyes – a depth of sincerity that gave her pause.

As Logan pleaded with her to heed his warning, Y/N felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over her – fear, anger, and a flicker of hope. In that moment of uncertainty, she grappled with the weight of the decision before her, knowing that the fate of the world rested in her hands – and in the hands of the enigmatic stranger who claimed to hold the key to their salvation.

The moment hung suspended in time, a fragile balance between doubt and determination. Y/N stood before Logan, her gaze locked with his, uncertainty etched into the lines of her face. Logan's plea echoed in the air, a whispered promise of redemption and salvation, and for a fleeting instant, Y/N hesitated.

But then, something shifted within her – a spark of resolve that ignited in the depths of her soul. It was a quiet realization, born from the depths of her own courage and fueled by the unwavering belief that together, they could make a difference.

With a steadying breath, Y/N met Logan's gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Alright. I'll help you."

The words hung in the air like a beacon of hope, a testament to the strength of her conviction. In that moment, a weight lifted from Logan's shoulders, replaced by a surge of gratitude and relief. He had expected resistance, perhaps even outright rejection, but Y/N's willingness to trust him filled him with a sense of purpose unlike anything he had ever known.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the tension reached its peak in the crowded conference room, Logan and Y/N moved with precision and determination, their eyes locked in silent communication. They had trained for this moment, prepared for the pivotal role they would play in altering the course of history.

Amidst the chaos, Mystique, disguised as a government official, made her move, her gun trained on Trask, the architect of the Sentinel program. But before she could pull the trigger, Logan sprang into action, his instincts honed by years of combat.

With a swift motion, he intercepted Mystique's shot, deflecting the bullet away from its intended target. The room erupted into chaos as panic spread like wildfire, but Logan remained focused, his gaze never wavering from Mystique's determined form.

Beside him, Y/N moved with a grace and precision that belied her years, her powers weaving through the air like a symphony of light and shadow. With a flick of her wrist, she immobilized Mystique, her telekinetic abilities holding her captive in a shimmering cocoon of energy.

As the dust settled and order was restored, Logan and Y/N shared a fleeting glance, a silent acknowledgment of the pivotal role they had played in preventing catastrophe. In that moment, the bond between them deepened, forged in the crucible of adversity.

But as they stood amidst the aftermath of their actions, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The future remains uncertain, and the threat of the Sentinels still loomed large. Yet, for the first time in a long time, Logan allowed himself to feel a glimmer of hope – a hope that with Y/N by his side, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead, together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Logan's consciousness shifted back to the future, his senses reeled from the disorienting transition. The world around him was a blur of chaos and destruction, the aftermath of the battle against the Sentinels evident in the smoldering ruins that surrounded him. But amidst the devastation, one sight stood out like a beacon of light in the darkness.

There, among the ragged survivors, stood Y/N – her presence a ray of hope amidst the despair. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Logan's gaze locked onto her familiar form, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and gratitude.

Without hesitation, he moved towards her, his steps fueled by an overwhelming urge to reach her side. As he drew closer, their eyes met, and in that instant, a flood of emotions washed over him – longing, regret, and a fierce determination to protect her at all costs.

Unable to resist any longer, Logan closed the distance between them in a single stride, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tight embrace. It was a gesture born from the depths of his soul, a silent vow to never let her go again.

In that poignant moment, as Logan's arms enveloped Y/N in a tight embrace amidst the wreckage of their war-torn world, a whirlwind of emotions stirred within him, threatening to overwhelm his senses.

First and foremost was an overwhelming sense of relief – relief that Y/N was alive and standing before him, a beacon of hope amidst the devastation. The mere sight of her, her presence a comforting reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged, filled his heart with a profound sense of gratitude.

But alongside relief, there was also a deep-seated longing – a longing for the lost time, for the moments they had shared before the world had descended into chaos. Seeing Y/N again awakened a flood of memories, memories of laughter and camaraderie, of unspoken connections and shared moments that now felt like distant echoes in the wake of tragedy.

Mixed with longing was a potent undercurrent of regret – regret for the pain and suffering they had endured, for the lives lost and the futures stolen. Logan couldn't help but wonder if there was more he could have done, if he could have somehow prevented the devastation that had torn them apart.

Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, there was also a fierce determination – a determination to protect Y/N at all costs, to ensure that she would never again face the horrors of war alone. In that moment, as he held her close, Logan made a silent vow to do whatever it took to keep her safe, to carve out a future where they could finally find peace.

And underlying it all was a profound sense of love – a love that transcended time and space, a love that had endured despite the odds. In Y/N's arms, Logan found solace amidst the chaos, a glimmer of hope in a world consumed by darkness.

After the embrace had ended, Logan held onto Y/N's hands tightly, his gaze locking with hers with a newfound intensity. In that moment, the weight of his unspoken emotions pressed heavily upon him, urging him to finally lay bare the truth that had long been buried within his heart.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "I… I need you to know something. I've been a fool, blind to what's been right in front of me all along."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her heart fluttering with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She waited with bated breath as Logan continued, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime's worth of regrets.

"I love you, Y/N," Logan confessed, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with an undeniable sincerity. "I've loved you for longer than I care to admit, but I was too damn stubborn to see it. I let my fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and for that, I'm sorry."

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes at Logan's confession, her heart swelling with a rush of emotions she could hardly comprehend. In that moment, the walls she had built around her heart crumbled, leaving her vulnerable but unafraid.

"Logan," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion, "I love you too. I've loved you for as long as I can remember, but I was too afraid to say it. Too afraid of what it might mean, of what we might lose."

Their hands tightened around each other's, a silent vow passing between them. In that shared moment of vulnerability, Logan and Y/N laid bare their hearts, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness.

And as they stood together, tears mingling with smiles, they knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as they were together, they would face them with unwavering courage and unyielding love. For in each other's arms, they had found a home – a sanctuary amidst the chaos, where their love could flourish and grow stronger with each passing day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

again, i'm so sorry it took me so long!!! this term has been so exhausting :,(

i really hope you guys liked the final part!! i hadn't meant to make it this long but i got a little carried away lol. i know it's not fully canon to the movies, sorry bout that.

[rayroseu]

HELP DEUCE JUST GOT FRENCHIFIED 🤣🤣🤣🤣 I really love the unique dynamics from this event lol

🥲🥲🥲 This made me sob... No one really can understand them like they do with each other... 😭😭

Outsiders like Azul and Idia thinks theyre just overreacting but considering how Malleus, Silver and Sebek ONLY has each other as they grew up...

(Malleus and Silver being isolated because of their status and obviously Sebek wasnt that accepted by his own grandpa either...)

So Of course any type of peril happening between them —no matter how trivial— would cause them all to immediately worry😭✨ I love it I love how they always try to care for each other at all times.😭😭💖💖

Yuu and Grim can relate XD

No but seriously the gargoyle and Malleus meeting reminds me of Yuu and Malleus meeting lolol 🥺💞💕💞Maybe I'm just reaching.... 😂😂

but I remember a long comment that Malleus most especially notices with us because were similar to a gargoyle— avoided because we're strange and our efforts and "function"(as prefect) are barely recognized.

It also doesnt help that the gargoyle's language sounds like Grim lol 😂 Gargoyle says he lives for eons now and that he never left the tower bcs he's a stone.... so why he speaks such a modern form of language??😂😂 He's using more slang than Malleus who's trying to learn to socialize.... 😂

Ohhh this part made me sad as well because We know in SSR Rollo's vignette that he was hating the gargoyles as he cleans them 😭😭😭😭

I want this text pasted on my study incase I'm guving up on the grind lolol

AAAAAAAHHHHHH HE SAID IT HE SAID IT‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE LINE WHERE THE GARGOYLES WAS ENCOURAGING QUASIMODO TO SAVE ESMERALDA BUT QUASIMODO WAS CONVINCED SHE DOESNT NEED HIM AJDJAJD 😭😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

On another note, I think the gargoyle DOES REMIND me of Lilia because of these last lines .....🥲🥲🥲🥲

"He runs on little magic so losing a little power is fatal for him" Lilia running out of magic 😭😭😭

"He was worried about him till the very end even though Hes the one responsible" I CANT KNOWING THAT LILIA *WILL* CONFRONT MALLEUS ABOUT HIS OVERBLOT...😭😭

I hope he'll be the one to understand him 🥲🥲💞💞💞

[aniharas]

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯

pairing: anakin skywalker x jedi!fem!reader

summary: in the soul-shattering aftermath of geonosis, anakin finds solace in forbidden affection, risking everything for a stolen moment under the moonlight.

warnings: angst, ptsd, trauma, phantom pains. anakin just needs a hug.

wc: 4k+ oneshot

a/n: this is mainly written from anakin's pov and detailing his thoughts. i was just craving an angst fest don't mind me. likes and reblogs deeply appreciated :) inbox is open! enjoy &lt;3

The light-polluted nights of Coruscant were not very kind to the Chosen One.

It was becoming a ritual: stirring at the latest hour in a sweat in the night. Almost an hourly occurrence. Poor Anakin would cry out, reaching for the ghost of an arm that was no longer there. The memories of the dreadful incident came around often like an old acquaintance, one who didn't quite get the hint that their presence was not wanted.

The terrors were definitely unwanted. Each nightmare that plagued his mind, almost every waking moment, every phantom pain was a painstaking reminder of his own incompetence. He was too weak, too blind to stop what happened. The flash of the red saber. The brief, agonizing, piercing hot sensation in his right arm followed by a sharp breeze. The unmistakable smell of his own charred flesh. The events of Geonosis were far too grisly to forget. The monstrous nature of his failure grasped and invaded his mind with its tendrils, ensuring nothing but pain as it threatened to pull him down under. 

What made matters worse was the useless words of the Jedi Council when he sought their advice. Anakin nearly trudged out of the Council Room in laughter. Did they know how ridiculous they sounded? Firstly, he couldn't confide in anyone or simply desire their comfort. Secondly, his own limbs were considered part of things that he couldn't stay attached to, and the young Jedi found that piece of grim advice hilarious. He wondered if their powers with the Force and their lightsabers were the only reason that they were respected.

The cybernetic arm that he was given only did so much. It functioned like a normal arm and hand; it simulated the sense of touch. It was a piece of technology revered by many and saved those who used it. Whenever he retired to his quarters, he would simply stare at it, desperately hoping that it would complete him, hoping that the many credits invested into his new limb would save his soul from the relentless torment that lurked whenever the sun when down.

It was never the same. How could it ever be the same? Despite the fact that Dooku had severed his right arm, Anakin felt like he had broken his whole body and spirit. One would describe his state as one of constant grieving, for his arm, for himself. He dreaded training, missions, meditating. Eating seemed to be a monumental chore for the boy who was destined to save the galaxy.

His body was at a disconnect with his own mind, and no amount of tinkering or relentless practice with the replacement would help.  It was like everyone else was above ground, moving at a normal pace, and he was stuck at the bottom of the ocean, unable to control the chaos of the water around him.

He had hoped that the nightly perils would cease in their frequency with time. As the years passed, his hope diminished, at the very least wishing that he could get used to the feeling. 

On another lonely, sleepless night, Anakin had woken from phantom pain. Defeated, he slid himself off the edge of his bed, letting his body slump to the floor. He was the phrase 'human wreck' incarnate, his now grown-out hair askew; sweat and tears mingling as they slid down his face and neck; the pale, vein-ridden skin of his half-bare body being proof of his negligence towards himself. It was only on occasion that he could sleep alongside the moon, with no troubling thoughts to bother him. The rest of those nights were akin to psychological torture.

"Maybe it was karma for all the times I used the Force to extract a confession from somebody. Is that what that felt like?" he said to himself.

At times, he liked to pause as if there was someone there who would respond.

He wanted a response, longed for someone to just be there. Someone could sit across from him and say that his pain was superficial, that he was being overdramatic, and Anakin would still be grateful for the words. Intimate touch was constantly on his mind; not the kind of touch that led to something amorous, but the kind that could leave his battle-torn skin covered in goosebumps, the kind that would make him hyper-aware of every inch of his body.

He brushed his human fingers over the forearm of his replacement, wanting to know if there was some way he could make himself feel that intimacy. His desperation to simply feel was slowly driving him mad, and he once again let himself lose to his rage. A tear seemed to poetically slip down Anakin's cheek as his sweat-ridden fingers fumbled around with the latches, dislodging his mechno-arm and flinging it towards his wall with enough strength he could muster. A pained grunt escaped his lips.

As it slammed against the wall, it made a loud, yet unsatisfying 'thud'. Some of the casing popped off, the wires and inner mechanisms becoming exposed as it fell unceremoniously to the floor. The emotional toll and the sudden action it wrought had left Anakin out of breath. His glossy eyes trailed from the wreckage down to the emptiness where it should have been, and at that moment, he felt truly pathetic. He desperately wanted to blame anything else, but it seemed that with every obstacle, he only had himself to blame. Did he truly deserve this? He started to believe so.

It was then that his ears picked up a soft knock at his door. Anakin had shot up from his seat on the floor, hurrying over to retrieve his arm and fix it back into place. Disoriented from the absence of sleep, he managed to trudge his way to his door, carefully watching his own feet so he wouldn't stumble. Almost like a child.

When he opened the door, the last thing he expected was to see her. Why was she even here this late at night? She didn't even live in this part of the Knights' Billet. Had one of the masters sent her? Her expression and her body language were timid, seemingly afraid to cross the line; but her ever-so-captivating eyes shone with curiosity. Anakin caught those eyes trying to sneak a glance behind him, tilting his head as he made himself comfortable leaning against his doorway.

"Did someone send you? Tell them I'm not in the mood," he said rather curtly without another glance, taking a step back as he moved to close the door. He was growing exhausted with how the Jedi expected so much of him but didn't even respect him.

Her hand seemed to spring out to hold the door open in retaliation. He was growing tired of the antics, ready to glare her down with daggers, until he saw something different in the girl. Her stance was firm as she held open the door. He saw that her eyes held a brewing mix of resolve and desperation as if silently pleading for him to hear her out.

"I was walking by, and I heard a noise. Are you okay?"

Time seemed to stop as she voiced her concern, leaving Anakin breathless once again. There was an undeniable pang in his heart, threatening to set loose what had been building up inside of him. Any other day, he would've brushed her off and forced the door shut without a care in the world. She was jeopardizing her place in the Jedi Order, and his as well. How could she afford to be so careless?

So careless about her duties…but she cared about him.

Struggling to voice his answer, he found himself nearly paralyzed with uncertainty, not knowing how to proceed. The mere act of them meeting this late at night had already broken so many rules...but was he willing to sacrifice some rules to save his own sanity? He saw a look of pity flash over her eyes, and he stayed frozen as she quietly shuffled in, closing the door behind her in a similar matter.

Anakin was sure about the fact that he needed someone to confide in, to share his agony, to comfort his long-tortured soul. It was only until she had uttered her first words to him that night that it dawned on him: she would see him as weak, and not the Chosen One. The dichotomy of his needs and fears clashed about in his brain. He needed a companion, but he was afraid of losing her approval, anyone's approval. Everyone's approval.

"What's wrong, Anakin?"

Her voice had cut through the growing torment of his thoughts, leaving it silent, those three words alone threatening to unravel him. He avoided the piercing gaze that was threatening to see right through him.

"Just insomnia," he muttered.

When his eyes returned to her, he immediately knew that his answer wasn't good enough. Who was he kidding? He realized that he hadn't even bothered to look presentable, hair messy and skin glistening with sweat. As if to mock his own thoughts, a gust of air blew in from his conditioning unit, making the tear streaks down his face feel like they were freezing. He watched her carefully as her eyes examined these very things, a flush gracing her cheeks as she briefly glanced at his bare chest. The faint glow of the stars pouring in from the window only seemed to accentuate it, illuminating her skin. She was pretty.

The very thought angered him. Why did beauty distract him so in such a vulnerable moment of his life? It was a weakness he was not proud of, not only because it represented what he could not have, but what he struggled to be himself. Every rule in his life seemed like it was set in place to keep him from having beauty, being beautiful. He couldn't help but break those rules as his eyes raked over her figure. He saw how her hair cascaded down to delicately frame her face, skin that was once covered modestly by Jedi robes, eyes that seemed to tantalize him even if her intentions meant otherwise.

Would it be so terrible if he indulged in these desires in his moment of need?

Anakin shook his head to his own thoughts, causing her to tilt hers in confusion. Of course, it would be terrible, but why was it terrible in the first place? He was suffering, feeling pathetic with his appearance and in his mind. It was not terrible to need someone, but why was guilt beginning to consume these selfish desires? Maybe it was terrible to need her. He barely knew her, and she took the same vows as he did.

"I understand," she whispered, seeming rather awkward and sheepish compared to before. She avoided his gaze as she turned her back on him. As she began to reach for the doorknob, Anakin was surprised to see that she hesitated. Was it too hopeful to think that she felt the same? He called out for her, more despairingly than he intended to.

"Wait, I..." He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to take the plunge. It would be the start of a slippery slope he couldn't hope to dig her or himself out of. He knew that if he tried, it would be futile, so that must've been why he had the nagging feeling that he didn't even want out.

"I need you here."

He watched closely as her brows furrowed and her grip on the doorknob tensed, immediately realizing that his request might have been too bold, to say the least. His gaze fell to the floor as a wave of humiliation washed over him. If she had run off at that moment, he would've understood. However, as he gathered the courage to look up once more, he saw that she had stood still, eyes continuing to prod him for a better explanation. Swallowing the ever-growing lump in his throat, he leaned against the wall of his dormitory as he tried to find the words that would lead him down the slope. If it meant that he could find peace for one night, one hour, or even one minute, so be it.

"I need you here because…I am cursed. I'm cursed with an affliction I can't ever hope to cure. I feel like I'm at war with myself, and it haunts me to my soul."

Anakin paused, subconsciously holding his breath, unsure if he wanted to continue. All of this was most likely too heavy to hear, especially since she barely knew him. Did she care?

At that moment, as if to answer his silent query, she stepped forward and placed herself in front of him, standing so close he felt the warmth of her body. The scent of her freshly-washed hair polluted his senses, leaving him feeling melancholy. He watched in a trance as her brows furrowed in worry, tentatively lifting up her hand. Her fingers gently prodded at his cybernetic, outlining the broken casing. Once her curious eyes rose back up to meet his, there was a silent acknowledgment. Understanding. It gave him the push to keep going, to muster the strength to hold open the floodgates of his heart. He stopped holding his breath, his sorrowful gaze falling to the floor.

“I'm...completely lost. I've strayed so far from the path of the Jedi that I can no longer see it…and I am afraid I don't even want it. I'm constantly told that I shouldn't feel this way...that hurting is selfish, and that I should focus on the needs of others before my own, to live up to my prophecy," Anakin muttered, his tone turning bitter and his brows furrowing in anger at the last word.

"But how can I do that when I am disconnected from myself? When I don’t feel like the Chosen One? I don’t feel like anyone is choosing me.”

Anakin’s eyes traveled up her figure once more, her minuscule and simple movements making them glaze over with desperation. He found the way her shoulders gradually moved up and down with each breath captivating, the flutter of her lashes with each blink. He took her by the hand that was calmly tracing his forearm, enveloping it firmly in his. She watched him as her breath halted in suspense, her fingers seeming hesitant to move.

“I need you here, not because I expect you to fix me, but because I just need someone. Anyone. I need you to choose me, to touch me,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he watched her lace her fingers with his own. “Please, I need this...bittersweet taste of relief. I can't bear this alone anymore.”

After what seemed like an eternity of silence with their hands in each other’s, she let go, much to Anakin’s chagrin. However, she lifted her hand once again, gradually bringing her hand to his chest, laying it flat above his heart. The sensation sent waves of warmth across the bare skin of his chest, the rippling feeling leaving goosebumps in its wake. He was certain that she could feel the deafening pounding of his heart. A faint gasp left his lips as she began to slide her hand down to his abdomen, his muscles in that area tensing. He didn’t expect to feel this hyper-sensitive to someone’s touch.

She flinched a little at his reaction, causing her to stop her motions. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked up at him timidly.

“Is that okay?” she asked, her voice unsure, as if she was testing the waters.

Hearing her words, Anakin’s vision was obscured by his own tears…tears of relief. He savored the straining feeling in his chest and throat as he fought to hold back his sobs, thankful he was even feeling anything like that at all. A slow blink of his eyes betrayed him as a brief stream of hot tears slid down his cheeks, which she quickly wiped away with her free hand. She seemed rather flustered when that very action caused more tears to fall in succession, awkwardly wiping more tears as quickly as she should.

The act made Anakin chuckle briefly, nearly surprising himself with the sound. It seemed to surprise her too, in turn making her laugh along with him. Realizing that this warming feeling was contagious, they both began to erupt into giggling fits, ending with a hush from her, muttering something about “quiet hours”. Though it had seemed silly, Anakin had wished they never stopped.

Again, damn the Jedi with all their rules.

During her stay, they sat together at the foot of his bed as Anakin slowly began to unravel the darkness that had been plaguing him since Geonosis. They spoke in hushed murmurs, afraid that someone might find them together. Their conversation would cease at the mere sound of a distant footstep, the creak of the conditioning vent, and muffled voices from the other side of his dorm wall. 

However, Anakin thought all the sneaking around to be worth it. Her presence and her conversation proved to help more than he could have hoped for. Soon enough, he was pleading for her to come back the next night. A shy expression overtook her features. Something around the lines of “You like me that much?” was uttered, and those very words ignited the beginning of an insatiable fire within him. Her wide, curious, and sparkling eyes continued to feed that very fire.

Anakin wasn’t too sure when he started to kiss her.

He wasn’t even aware of when they had closed so much distance between each other. However, her receptiveness pushed those questions far away, his thoughts taking form in the shape of her. A rush of emotions flooded through him, momentarily drowning out the misery that consumed his existence. In that singular, stolen moment, he felt a profound peace, something that he thought he might never experience again.

Every touch, every gentle brush against him sent electric currents coursing through his body. His senses were enveloped by her, reveling in the taste of her, the softness of her lips, the warmth of her breath mingling with his. Her hands began to clutch onto his frame desperately, her nails digging in and leaving red trails in their wake. The world around him slowly began to fade into insignificance, his focus narrowing to the raw sensation of being alive, of feeling something so intensely beautiful. For that fleeting moment, Anakin allowed himself to be consumed by this sinful, blissful indulgence of the present. It was a sanctuary from his own mind. After a lifetime of monochrome, he was overjoyed to feel anything at all. It was a bittersweet joy, knowing that this kiss was fleeting, and that it came at a heavy cost. As their lips reluctantly parted, Anakin’s mind was only filled with anticipation for the next. He watched her, his eyes filled with a mixture of reluctance and longing, as she began to pull away, her breath slightly ragged. A part of him wants to hold onto her desperately, to stop the inevitable departure. “Wait,” he called out, his voice feeble and vulnerable as he cautiously took her hand in his. “I-i…don’t want you to go. This is…it's everything to me.”

Anakin hated how desperate he sounded in his pleas, embarrassed at the state Geonosis had reduced him to. He almost despised the fact that he needed this…that the Chosen One needed someone else to feel so alive. But the way she flooded his mind was such a high for him, and he never wanted to come down.

“Please,” he begged, his voice nearly giving out as his eyes began to glisten. “I know the risk you’d be taking, but…one more night, please. The same time, tomorrow night. We can figure out what to do then.” He watched as her resolve wavered, noting the longing in her eyes. Anakin knew she felt a pull to him as well, it’s what caused her to come and investigate him in the first place. As she took a deep breath, his thoughts came to a halt, ensuring utter silence to hear what she had to say. “Okay, Skywalker. One more night. But…if we get caught, it’s on you,” she scolded, her arms crossing.

Anakin found her attitude endearing, answering her with a simple nod. Despite her playful nature, he understood the weight of her words. He leaned in, allowing his forehead to rest against hers, enjoying the subtle heat that radiated from her, a stark contrast to the cold room they were in. Pulling away with a lingering touch and a final gaze, they parted ways. As the door closed behind her, a profound sense of emptiness washed over Anakin. Her absence only made him feel the weight of his desperation. The taste of her still lingered on his lips, and it nearly made him want to throw the door open and chase after her. However, as much as he desired that, he couldn’t bring himself to.

As he returned to his empty bed, he decided he would just have to wait until she would return, his newly found moonlight, who had illuminated his dark and harrowing night, who had caused the waves in his heart to surge and swell.

He found comfort in the fact that the moon would always return to the sky.

-

As each night passed, their next clandestine meeting was what occupied Anakin’s thoughts. Every single moment until then felt like an eternity, nearly stretching his patience to the limit. His thoughts were never without her.

It was especially bad whenever he would sit in the Temple’s garden and meditate with Obi-Wan. 

The afternoon after that encounter with her, Anakin and Obi-Wan sat cross-legged across from each other, eyes closed as they sought inner peace with the Force.

Anakin struggled to quiet his mind, to let go of the constant longing that plagued him. He tried focusing on his breathing, to sink into stillness, but the image of her under the moon invaded his every thought. Her face, her touch, her taste, her warmth–it consumed his mind like a raging wildfire.

As Obi-Wan searched through his own mind, he couldn’t help but sense a disturbance. A subtle ripple, a flicker of distraction that emanated from his young apprentice. His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to search for what was troubling Anakin.

After a while, Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes, gaze fixed on his padawan as his gentle voice broke the silence. “Anakin, I sense something is weighing on your mind. Is everything alright?”

Anakin’s eyes remained closed, feeling sweat break out on the nape of his neck as he fought to maintain his composure. Why did Obi-Wan even bother asking? He was never going to tell his master, and he knew that. That didn’t prevent the feeling of guilt that started to accompany the flurry of his emotions. “I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin responded after a beat of silence. “I’m just…worried about my knighthood. That is all.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened, his eyes taking on a knowing, yet understanding look. Of course, he knew his apprentice hiding something. He would consider himself a bad master otherwise. He could feel the turmoil radiating from Anakin, yet his desire to remain elusive. He wanted to respect his privacy, but his duty as a mentor compelled him to push further.

“Anakin, you know it is one of my many responsibilities to guide and support you, but I cannot do that if you hide things from me,” Obi-Wan said. “Whatever it is, just remember you don’t have to face it alone.”

With that, Anakin’s eyes fluttered open before meeting his master’s, a mixture of guilt and longing to open up to him. He hated that he was in an order where judgment and the potential consequences of desire prevented him from confiding in his mentor, his best friend, his brother.

“Believe me, master, I am more than thankful for your concern. But this…this is something I have to figure out on my own,” Anakin replied, his voice displaying a hint of vulnerability. “I will be fine.”

Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. He knew that part of becoming a Jedi involved navigating your own path, but he couldn’t help but feel like there were deeper issues at play. However, he was willing to let it go for the sake of supporting his apprentice.

“Very well, young Skywalker,” he conceded, a touch of sadness in his voice. He reached over to give a reaffirming pat to Anakin’s shoulder. “I trust that you find your way, as you always do. Don’t forget that I am here, whenever you need me.”

Anakin nodded, letting his eyes fall shut once more as he continued to “meditate”.

Still, his moonlight danced through his mind, and he could only think about how long it would be until he could see her shine again.

a/n: ao3 saw it first! inbox is open!!

[twstjam]

Lost Invitation (Part 1) - Rain Check

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!! and happy en glomas day everyone! :D To celebrate, here's part 1 of a new fic I started writing on impulse <3

Characters: Yuu, Grim, Malleus Draconia, Heartslabyul (mentioned) Word count: 2.8k Summary: You're committed to helping Riddle Rosehearts and his card soldiers in a war against followers of the Jabberwock looking to usurp the rulers of Red and White. You're also in love with a stranger you met in the woods who wants you to run away with him. Whoever said that love and war weren't so different might've been onto something. In your experience, they're both equally difficult. Nobody ever said that you had to choose between one or the other though. Ao3 Link Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

If you were asked two years ago whether or not you wished to fight in a war, your answer, reasonably, would most definitely have been a big, fat NO. You would be quicker to pack up all your things and vanish with Grim before the enemy army could even begin their march to the Boardfield, the traditional field of battle for the Queendoms of Roses and Lilies.

Though the Rosehearts and Whitelily families are infamously known for their quarrels, it's not unheard of for them to unite in times of peril. Even when currently under the leadership of constantly-conflicting young rulers Riddle Rosehearts and Wystan Whitelily this isn't untrue. When the Jabberwocks declared war on the Whitelilies, Riddle had been quick to offer his assistance.

And as someone working for the Rosehearts family, that had meant your assistance as well.

And you didn't want to be involved in a war. No one did. All of this had nothing to do with you, a magicless outsider who couldn't contribute meaningfully if you tried, so really it was best that you got out of the way as soon as possible… but who would you be if you didn't at least try to help out your friends?

You don't know when it happened, but the card soldiers and Riddle himself have become almost like family to you.You have no obligation to stay and help, even Riddle had assured you of that, but you're still not sure if it's your lack of self-perservation or sheer stupidity that had told him you wouldn't leave.

Even if it was expected, being a part of a war was hard and stressful and the days seemed to stretch longer and longer. You spend practically every waking and sleeping moment working tirelessly near a cauldron, brewing potion after potion for the use of the card soldiers. Your alchemy skills had been taught by famed alchemist Divus Crewel himself, but they can only take you so far.

You barely get full eight hours of sleep. You don't even want to imagine how Riddle and Wystan are faring. You barely see your friends anymore, let alone in a peaceful environment, and every time they head out with the troops there's no guarantee they would return.

Your days are hectic and unpredictable… but, at the very least, you have something to look forward to. Something to ground you and make you feel at ease. Or more accurately… a someone.

----

Potion ingredient runs are your favorite to do. At the very least, you do them once a week, but if potions are burnt through fast then the travels to gather herbs become more and more frequent, to your delight. Stressed as you are, you're not eager to do work as much as you are eager to get out of your cramped room cluttered with books and scrolls and herbs that is also more often than not reeking with the mixture of smells of dozens of different potions. You spend so much time in there though that you barely notice until you're walking out of a magic mirror into the open outdoors lush with greenery and colourful with blooming flowers of sweet fragrances.

Being surrounded by the beauty of nature is only one of the upsides though. As your horse brings you and the wagon deeper into the quiet but lively woods, tall, decayed stone walls slowly come into view. So many plants have made themselves at home in the cracks between the stone that from a distance it's not recognizable as an aged structure forgotten by time.

Once upon a time it was a grand tower home to a reclusive mage and alchemist. They kept their research hidden away and secret from the world… that is, until, other mages discovered their body in the tower about a decade after their death.

A majority of folk are scared to even speak about the tower, let alone visit it, and maybe once you would've been the same, but living in a haunted mansion for a few months sort of desensitizes one to the presence of any kind of ghost.

Ace and Deuce had gotten concerned when you bragged about it once. They were probably right to be, but it's not like it'd be any good even if you were afraid of ghosts. Instead of the phantom of a paranoid, lonely mage, when you had visited the tower for herbs for the first time you had instead encountered a very alive mage instead, though he's not any less lonely and secretive.

Your mysterious horned friend, whom Grim had creatively dubbed Tsunotarou, had been haunting the old ruins one night while you were gathering some rare nocturnal herbs. You had gotten spooked by a pair of reptilian green eyes peering at you from the dark, but Tsunotarou, though he was tall and horned and wrapped in elegant robes made out of the night sky, had seemed more wary of your unassuming human presence garbed in a stained alchemist's uniform. He hadn't been expecting someone else to be there. At least that made two of you.

Despite the surprise of an unwanted companion at his beloved abandoned ruins, Tsunotarou had come back, and the two of you had struck a conversation. Considering the oddness of both of your choice of location to spend your evenings, it wasn't hard to think of things to talk about. Somehow, this had led into a friendship forming between the two of you, and now when you go on your trips for herbs, it also means seeing Tsunotarou. It means cosy evenings picking herbs while he talks your ear off about the most niche topics, at the same time staining his own gloves with dirt and tearing them on briars as he helps you.

You never ask him to help. He had simply commented once that it seemed like tiring work, at the same time asking you what herbs you needed before kneeling down and gathering them for you. It's become routine since then for him to assist you, and neither of you say anything about it as you work in the comfort of each other's presence.

In a hectic life, Tsunotarou has become your anchor, your safe space. Your home away from home. The closeness you feel with him sort of just crept up on you one day, and before you know it he's made himself at home in your heart. You don't know—can't know if you're as important to him and you'd never ask, but he's become close to you like you've become close to him and you're angry at yourself for it because now your stupid heart wants to do anything for him like it does with Riddle and the others and you definitely don't have enough space on your shoulders for it.

So it's painful when Tsunotarou looks at you, no doubt taking in the sight of your paled skin and sunken eyes and says, "Come home with me."

You know why he asks. Had asked it before, and it had hurt just as much the other times, but he keeps asking, persistent. It's something you've learned is part of his non-human biology, something that comes with his horns, his tail, his eyes, his ears, and his fangs. It's part of who he is to want to keep people close, like his grandmother, his parents, his caretaker Lilia, and now you.

"I can't," you say, every time. You want to but at the same time you don't. You're curious and eager to see more and learn more about your dear friend (perhaps even his actual name one of these days), but your heart also belongs with Riddle and the card soldiers and you won't abandon them. "You know I can't."

"And you know I cannot bear seeing you so overworked and exhausted," Tsunotarou says, gentle but also stern as he caresses your cheek in his hand and despite your refusal of his offer to care for you, you lean into his touch, your heart yearning for comfort after denying it for too long.

"You also know your mother doesn't like humans," you remind him.

"I will hide you, then," he says, insistent, despite how the idea is so childish to the point that you laugh.

"That's not going to work and you know it."

"You will not believe the fabrications my mother would believe if they were to come from me," Tsunotarou boasts, his head tilted up in pride at being a mama's boy. You huff a fond laugh.

"Still, no matter how much she loves you I don't think she would appreciate you hiding a strange human in her home without her permission." You cradle his hand on your cheek with your own and lower it away. You're immediately mournful at the loss of his touch, but thankfully you have the impulse control to be able to release his hand and begin the walk back to your wagon, where you would then go home with all of your gathered ingredients and… go straight back to work.

Tsunotarou catches your hand before you can get far. You don't have to look to see the pleading expression on his face and you don't want to, instead smiling sadly at your feet.

"We shall get our own place then," he blurts out. "Just the two of us. Nobody can bother us ever again. There will be no wars. You will not have to work a day in your life. Let me take care of you."

You're too stunned to speak. His words leave you breathless, pondering if he knew the weight behind saying something like that, the implications. If he knows that his touch sends goosebumps rising through your skin, makes you yearn and ache as he laces his fingers with yours and squeezes.

You don't notice him sidling up closer behind you until he is. He tugs on your hand and turns you around with his other hand on the small of your back. You're face-to-chest with him, having to place your hands on his firm chest and crane your neck to look up at him. It's a mistake, because the desperation in his eyes frighteningly makes your resolve falter.

"Please," he whispers in a tone perhaps unbefitting of someone so imposing in appearance but to you could not be more fitting for your gentle, caring friend. "Stay with me."

You're helpless as he curls gentle clawed fingers around your jaw and leans down. Hot breath ghosts over your lips. You shudder, and the urge to close the distance is so overwhelming—

You pull away. Blink. Squint your eyes shut to force away the images that crop up in your mind of him. Him and you. Together.

"No," you whisper. "I… we can't."

He doesn't have to ask why. It's obvious enough based on the confused and hurt furrow of his brow.

There are many reasons why. You're afraid. You don't know his name. He loves his mother and his mother would hate him. He's noble-blooded and you're not. He's a mage and you're magicless. He's something much greater regardless of whatever kind of being he is. You're just you. You're useless. Can't even help your friends enough that they won't have to deal with all the bullshit with the Jabberwocks anymore and live peaceful lives again.

"It's… not the right time," you say with a small squeeze around his own hand. "We both have responsibilities that we have to put first."

You're not fully confident that the opportunity will arrive. Who knows how much longer the war will last. Tsunotarou might even find someone actually worthy of him by then, so you don't want to get your hopes up. At the very least you can reject him in a way that won't squash his, and you're relieved when his eyes brighten.

"Someday, then," he says, and it's not set in stone but still he sounds as if he's convinced it's written in the stars. Someday. Someday.

Tsunotarou bends at the waist and kisses your knuckles. Warmth gathers in your face and you have to force back a lopsided smile. Maybe it isn't so bad to have something to look forward to…

"Someday," you echo back.

----

You're startled awake by an odd sound.

You look down and realise you'd fallen asleep on your desk again. There's drool staining the page you'd been reading, a complicated recipe on a type of energy elixir you're trying to memorise. You wipe the corner of your mouth, no longer concerned at being annoyed by being woken up from a nice dream that's already fading from your mind, instead relieved that there's no one (Ace) around to make fun of you for drooling on invaluable books again…

Wait, where's Grim?

You remember that he had been dozing off in a corner of the desk, curled up on top of an open book with the excuse that he was "helping" (he does help, bless him, but sleep was calling to him in that particular moment) but he's not there. You sit up and look around. His bed by the window is empty, and so is every other surface in the room he could to lounge on regardless of whether or not it was a book or a scroll and you needed it.

It's not unlikely for him to wander off of course, but a part of you feels strangely antsy at having found yourself alone. Technically, you're not alone. Riddle and the others aren't around again unfortunately, having left to meet up with Wystan and his own soldiers with your fresh potions, but there are the ghosts of the castle lurking about somewhere or other and the castle staff, too. None of them are around at the moment though, so your surroundings feel eerily quiet and lonely.

That's likely why you feel so unnerved, you think, as you get up from your chair to begin looking for Grim. He's likely to be in the kitchen, the gluttonous thing. You stretch out your sore limbs and your stomach rumbles. Grabbing a snack doesn't sound too bad.

You fix the pouches on your belt that had gotten a bit crooked and leave your room. There's no one around that you can see. It's not unusual; it is a big castle, but for whatever reason you feel tingles go up your back, your body wary of a nonexistent danger behind you. You take a step forward—

"*FGNAAAAA!!! Unhand me! Myah! Henchman, *help!!!*"

"Grim?!" You whirl around at the sound of his voice and sprint in its direction. You skid to a stop, blood going cold when you see five people dressed in uniforms with the emblem of a creature with eyes of flame, rough hands trying to get a grip at Grim's wriggling body.

Jabberwocks. And they have Grim.

"That's the alchemist!" shouts out one of the Jabberwocks trying to secure Grim. The three currently unoccupied immediately lunge towards you and you barely slip away.

You almost trip over your feet as you try to reach into your pouches while at the same time evading the intruders. Grim is hissing and yelling. You grit your teeth and, with conviction, pull out a small bottle of translucent orange liquid. You toss it at their feet and the splatters of liquid that fly up into the air come to life and cranky fire lizards climb up their bodies and burn through their clothes. As they scream and try to throw off the lizards, you run past them with another potion in hand, ready to aim it at Grim's captors.

One of the two trying to keep him still intercepts your throw, grasping your wrist and twisting it painfully behind your back until you drop the potion. You yell out in pain, your vision blurry with tears as you're forced down to the floor.

"Get your hands off of my henchman!" Grim yowls. He leaps out of the grasp of the Jabberwock and blue fire spurts out of his mouth and catch on the clothes of your assailant.

He breathes in for a stronger burst of fire but the other Jabberwock grab him and frantically lock an anti-magic collar around his neck.

You kick and struggle beneath the Jabberwock on your back. You reach desperately for the other potions on your belt, all the while screaming a lot of choice words in a voice you hope is shrill enough to deafen or call other people to come to your and Grim's rescue.

You're quickly silenced with a gag, blindfolded, tied up, and unceremoniously slung over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You continue to kick and scream, but it's useless as magic swirls around you and both you and Grim vanish from the castle.

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

As grim as it sounds, the way Mario and Luigi look at each other when the former holds out his hand to the latter feels like them both wordlessly accepting their fate if they don't lunge for the star in time: if they're gonna get engulfed in flames, then at least they're gonna die together (kinda like the incinerator scene from Toy Story 3 but if it was a millisecond long)

Just 👏 like 👏 the 👏 incinerator 👏 scene 👏 from 👏 TS3.

For real tho, that whole little scene before their star power-up says so much about these two and their deep bond.

For a split second, Mario thought he was a absolute goner until Luigi managed to step in with a freaking manhole cover and stop the blast,

and he looks so shocked and in awe that his little brother, his shy and timid brother who had flinched in fear at a crumbled up piece of paper being thrown at him earlier in the film, was now holding back a blast of fire with something heavy and twice his size in order to protect him.

(And mind you, even though he's wearing gloves, Bowser's fire is basically like dragon fire and the heat was probably starting to burn through the fabric and parts of his skin too since he had his face pressed up against it as well, but he still held strong against it even when the metal was starting to melt)

And as Luigi looks back at him, almost as if he's reading Mario's mind as to why he was crazy enough to do something like this, he merely answers, "Nothing can hurt us, as long as we're together".

The same exact words his brother said to him as an ease of comfort mere moments before they got separated within the tubes and was now using it again in the same manner in this moment of peril.

Knowing that whatever is going to happen, Mario accepts the fact that he isn't going to face it alone and reaches out his hand, full of determination and ready to face it head-on with him as the cover starts to give way.

And with that, Luigi takes his hand, masking the same look and full of courage before they take off towards the star before the flames surround them both.

Just like they both said, nothing can hurt them, as long as they're together .

Goddamn, I just....I can not get over this whole little scene, you guys. It speaks just wonders for the both of them.