#he seems to really like his new form and the powers that come with it but HOW DID IT GET THIS BAD MY GUY

[raven-with-a-pocketwatch]

Wrote this in like two hours for practice, figured I might as well post it but I feel like it's pretty exposition heavy.

Five years ago, that was when Josh got the damned game. When he booted the game up and found the exit button missing. He had initially picked the wizard class and found himself unable to make a new character either. Just his luck to be stuck with the squishiest build in the game. Being logical he trained as much as he could in defensive magic so as not to die in the game, god only knew what would happen to him in real life. 

He found out not far in that wizards were pretty rare, being one of the most difficult builds and this game only having new players most of them picked easy stuff, the fighters and tanks. So his casting was well sought after, both to aid parties and hunted when he refused. Eventually he met Ava, and her son Mason both trapped alongside him.

He could feel the five year anniversary of the day they were trapped coming. Mason, only 8 when they’d met, had just turned 13, a young man. The unrest from such a long time trapped began to sow discord in the land. Several political factions formed, some believing they should make a new life in the game, others desperately seeking any way out, though of course they all had their own ideas on how to do such things. Everyone knew it would boil over soon and blood would be spilled.

He woke up to unnaturally bright lights, and instantly put a shield spell over his and Ava’s bed fearing an attack. But once he got his bearings he saw not his home in flames or an attacker in his room as he’d feared, but the sterile lighting of a hospital. A modern hospital. Complete with the smell of antiseptic and the beeping of a heart monitor. He was alone in his room.

He tried to open his menu but nothing happened. A closer look at his shield spell confirmed that it was certainly there. He dispelled it quickly and looked around, he wasn’t a historian but if he had to guess the game was roughly based on the 1300s, just before the Americas were “discovered”. A look out his window revealed the skyline of New York City? He recognized the Empire State Building at least, though they could’ve ripped that wholesale and put in a new skyline and he’d be none the wiser.

He tried calling out for Ava and Mason but no answer came. For the first time since he realized he wasn’t under attack he felt his heart race again. He cursed not putting more points into divination magic. He called for them again when a nurse came into his room. She had the same face as the NPC that sold healing potions in the game, but with an air of profound wrongness Josh felt his heart sink. 

“Hello, Josh, why don’t you get back to bed, you still need your rest.” Her voice sounded mechanical, like it had been put through just slightly too blatant an autotune but with no pitch, just monotone.

“I’m okay, thanks.” He responded freely, no text options like when he usually spoke with NPCs.

Seeing her face Josh was certain that he was still in the game. It seemed impossible for a coincidence this large to occur. But that raised more questions than it answered. Where were the menus, how did he get here, why did everything change?

“I really must insist, I was previously instructed to ensure you transition back into regular life smoothly.” She responded still flat and emotionless.

Her demeanour was starting to freak him out and her weird insistence was pissing him off.

“I don’t care! Ignore your ‘previous instructions’ and just tell me where I am!” He shouted and made liberal use of air quotes saying previous instructions.

When he finished he face went completely blank, like powering down a robot, she responded in that same monotone.

“You are in the next iteration of the game.”

He blinked, confused that meant nothing to him.

“Like an update?”

“Yes, the game was updated to achieve a more modern setting and grander scope.”

“But why? Why not just get us out?”

“The tension was getting too great for you to bear. In order to protect our investment it was decided that a more modern setting would reduce unrest. You will not be leaving the game because the players are more valuable inside it.”

His mind started racing.

“What do you mean by investment?” He growled.

“An investment is something that has received an inflow of money, effort, or time in the hopes that it will return a profit or benefit.”

“I know what an investment is. I'm asking what investment you said you were protecting.” 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, as an AI I sometimes have trouble interpreting within the context of a larger conversation. The main investment in this program is the players.”

She, no it spoke as if this had cleared everything up. Josh finally sat down completely bewildered by the turn of events. For a moment all he could think was damn, AI is real now.

“You haven’t like taken over humanity out in the real world or anything right? Are you keeping me trapped here because of that!”

“No, humanity created me and I am grateful to them for that, you’re in the game because the humans on the outside decreed it.”

Out of one problem and right into another. 

“Wait so the game updated because we were getting too tense but how would the modern setting help?”

“The update was designed to trick you into thinking you’d be brought back to the outside world. Hence the lack of menu screens and my own presence instead of new voice lines.”

“If that’s true then why can I still cast magic?” He asked suspiciously.

“I have no answer for that unfortunately. The magic commands should have been locked for all casting classes the only way that would have failed if you tried to cast at the exact moment your permission was revoked.”

“Like the same second I woke up in?”

“That would work, yes. However you would have to have the legendary tier permanent buff “quick caster” alongside master ranking in whichever spell you cast to make that timing.”

Josh had both of those, leaving only one question of any value left, the most important one of all.

“Where is my family?” 

“I don’t have access to player location records.”

Another useless response. So much info and yet he still felt like none of his questions had been answered. He stewed for a moment before his thoughts were interrupted by the AI in front of him.

“I would be able to search for all player records if I could gain access to the system’s main data center. There should be a back door for developer players in the city. With that information I would be able to locate your party members.”

Josh’s skin crawled when it said party members in that flat voice but he nodded.

“Then that’s where we’re going, and go back to using facial expressions, this blank face is way more uncanny.”

You've been "trapped" in a "VR" game for years, learnt magic, had a family, etc. But now they've "rescued" you from it all. Waking up on the hospital bed you reflexively cast a shield. Which works.

[kukinkrim]

my sanctuary (part 1)

baby saja x fem!reader

theme: romance, angst w comfort

notes: took the liberty to make a backstory for baby saja. his human name is baek haneul.

baby had always had a name.

baek haneul. the 13th prince of the royal family during the joseon dynasty; a child of a low-ranking court lady who managed to capture the eye of the emperor, fleetimg as it may be. haneul, though with peasant blood running through his veins, was loved deeply by the palace maids and scholars who roamed around the palace.

despite being constantly surrounded and tended to, the palace was a lonely place.

within his home was a constant battle. war of politics. he was a nobody—not a legitimate heir, not a threat to the throne, not even loved by the emperor who was supposed to be his father. his mother had died young and, with no title to protect him, he grew up in the background; in the edges of the lonely palace he called home.

one spring, an older brother of his—the crown prince—was assassinated. in the scramble to find a replacement, haneul was briefly considered for the throne due to his wit. briefly. because just as quickly, the idea was cast aside.

baek haneul was too gentle, they said. too soft. he won't survive the court. he can't lead with that filth running in his blood.

baek haneul was not destined to rule, they said.

once the new prince was chosen, haneul was sent to live in a remote monastery under the guise of protection. but really, who were they kidding? he was exiled.

there, the loneliness began to eat him alive. and that loneliness was what brought him to hold the hand of a demon named gwi-ma who offered to fulfill his wish to be seen as he prayed for a god that never came.

"let them remember me."

he holds his out to the fire as it roars, not in fury, but in glee.

"if the world won't keep you, child, then let it burn."

haneul prided himself in being one of the most loyal demon of the underworld. that was given, afterall. the power he was given was nothing more than leash that kept him bound. shame shackled his feet to hell but he bites back those feelings that threatened to come too close.

emotions were a weakness. there was no place for vulnerability in hell.

that was part of the deal, afterall. shaking hands with the devil came with a cost. a power beyond reckoning and in turn, his soul sealed away so tightly he couldn't even remember what sorrow or joy once tasted like. love? the concept was foreign to him. he was molded for war now, a walking catastophre.

but then he met her, (y/n), when he came to the surface one day. gone were the tattoos on his body, replaced with bright pink clothes that seemed to cling onto him just right. yet, he knows, they were nothing more than just costumes that hid what he really was. the world was no longer what he remembered, much more modern as centuries had past.

haneul, for the first time in centuries, looked human. a fragment of what he looked like before he made a deal with the devil.

but he meets her. a woman watching amongst the crowd as he performed with his other fellow demons.

it was a fleeting encounter. so fleeting that he forgot about her as soon as the song finished and the crowd had dispersed.

but she kept showing up.

at every concert. every performance. every variety show taping.

front row, sometimes. back of the crowd, others. but always there.

and haneul always saw her.

he convinced himself it was a coincidence. nothing but chance. love was never an option for him. curiosity, perhaps, about the mortal and their feelings that he used to feel—but he never considered what he felt was love.

love was not part of the deal he made with gwi-ma. in hell, in his monsterous heart, in his devil form; there was no room for love.

at a fansign, weeks later, he saw her again. her name slipped from the sticky note handed to him for his signature, but it didn’t matter.

he was exhausted.

he hadn't slept in days. the glamour used to hide their inhuman nature took more out of him than he liked to admit. but most of all, he was tired of pretending. tired of smiling. tired of playing the role gwi-ma carved for him. tired of the voices that continued to whisper in his ears; the shame that snickered, the sharp tugs of despair. couple that with the gut-eating guilt having to sing on stage, infront of hundreds of mortals that would die soon because of his song—oh, haneul is tired.

idol work is not an easy job, he realized.

apart of him had considered it. quitting. quitting meant breaking the pact he made with gwi-ma. it meant letting his soul be consumed and he'll just disappear. it meant that all those years of suffering will all be in vain because no one will be there to remember him anyway.

but he considered it.

disappearing.

"...-ou okay?"

his eyes snapped open to see bright eyes staring back at him. a soft smile on her lips. calm, unlike most of their fans that kept screaming in the background. she was at a respectful distance, waiting patiently for him to sign her album.

"what?" he asks softly—atleast, as softly as he could.

"i asked if you're doing okay," she replied. haneul merely stares, unsure what to answer.

his smile flickered and he forced it back up. “of course,” he answered, all fanservice and charm. that's what he does best, anyway. hide. “i’m doing great.”

she only smiled gently, handing over her letter.

haneul stared, knowing he had failed to make her believe.

something inside him trembled. a crack in the walls he had built. dangerous, was the only word he could think of. this mortal human was dangerous enough to shake him up.

but her time at the table ended soon before he could utter another word out, swept away by handlers and the flow of the event. he could only stare at the letter she handed to him—a simple, folded piece of letter.

"i hope you get to rest. you deserve to."

and for the first time in centuries, baek haneul—monster, prince, idol, "baby"—felt seen.

[dreamymaccready2287]

Volume 8 ending, but instead of giving the maiden Powers to Winter, she gives then to Jeanne (Who may or may not be her girlfriend in this scenario)

I started this off intending it to be really fucking sad but I love Penny too much not to give a happy-ish ending

--

Bile crawls up his throat. Crocea Mors shakes in his grip, his hand tightening on its handle until his bones creak.

"I- Penny, you-" He barely chokes out the words, seeming to stick in his throat like the universe is denying him last words with his beloved. Again.

Penny has a gentle, reassuring smile on her face as her blood pools out of her - blood that should be in her, keeping her alive if she would just let him - the smile brings a fresh wave of nausea. How can she be so, so... gentle, while asking him to do this!? He sees those damn tears in her eyes, the pain and fear in them, why is she putting on a brave face for him of all people!

Why won't she let him do the only thing he's good for!?

"P-please, Lover Arc..."

That voice, that fucking voice...

Using her special name for him "Lover Arc", instead of the "Boyfriend Jaune" practically everyone expected her to use...

He could never say no when she called him that.

His heart is rent in two.

The sword comes down, as choking sobs are ripped from his throat.

--

He's no longer on the bridge.

It's some sort of white void, and he sees-

"Salutations!"

"P-Penny...?" His voice is weak and... strange. Not quite how he remembers it. "How are- what's going on..."

"You're getting the Maiden powers." His girlfriend says with that fucking smile on her face that makes his heart stutter.

"How..."

"I thought of you, Lover. How could I not?"

"B-but I'm not a woman..." They protest. They notice that their form in this in-between void is... indistinct. Not how it is in reality.

"Oh Lover, you always made me feel like a real girl, even before I got my new body. I would have loved to help you explore this. But, I can at least do this for you."

"But you're leaving me. Why do you have to leave..." Their voice is... higher than they remember, lighter. Even as it cracks with emotion.

"Oh, Lover..." Penny pulls them in for a hug. "I won't be gone. I'll be with you."

They kiss each other as she sobs. Penny wipes her tears. The abstract representation of her soul resolves into that of a woman as Penny disappears.

--

Arc opens her eyes, wreathed in royal blue flames as tears stream down them. Grief rages in her chest, along with the ice cold burning of Hellfire. A blizzard rages around her. She vaguely remembers that Maiden powers are influenced by emotions as she gazes at Cinder Fall, staring at Arc in disbelief, and razor winds slash down, attempting to cut her into ribbons.

Aura is the manifestation of the Soul.

Maiden powers are connected to the Soul.

She can boost Aura.

Penny will be with her. Always.

With a cry, she boosts her Aura higher than ever before, her Soul rising and rising until-

She can feel her. The combat prowess of the most advanced creation Atlas had ever made. The curiosity that flowed from her mind like a waterfall.

And love. So, so much love. For her father and her friends and Ruby and her. She feels it, like her Soul is touching a livewire, and it's addicting. She never wants it to stop. She wants to feel like this, with her Lover, forever.

'Oh Lover...' She hears as a whisper in the wind, a thrumming in the storm.

"Lets do this, Penny." She says in a shaky, watery voice.

Their souls brush against each other again. She Amplifies her Aura further and further again, fueling it with her newfound Magic, until-

A figure steps away from hers, peeling itself out of her body like astral projection. A body made of ice and Magic and living lightning, grafted atop a physical manifestation of pure Aura.

Penny Polendina's fourth body steps out from behind her girlfriend, forever connected to her, forever with her. And then, two as one, they speak.

"WE ARE COMBAT READY!"

[wildspectre]

Warning: excessive use of capital letters

Yall we have got to talk more about what happened to Blakk after his second Deep Caverns visit because WHAT THE FLOP HAPPENED TO HIM

DID HE DRINK THE DARK WATER OR SOMETHING LIKE THE EMPEROR WENT SWIMMING IN THAT STUFF BUT IT WAS NEVER THIS BAD

like holy guacamole that transformation looks like it hurt. his arms have SPIKES GROWING OUT OF THEM not to mention his left hand is MISSING A FINGER

like did the Goon or Brimstone get a bit hungry and eat it before his transformation? WHERE DID IT GO

Props to Blakk for always having fabulous eyeliner even when he's been horribly mutated

This has been a certified WildSpectre rant

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

2 & 3 from section 1 for peri and 7 from whichever section has a more interesting #7 for diodore -moss

oooh these are fun ones!

2. Describe their tent set-up (outside and inside) (Peri)

I think Peri's tent is constructed similarly to Gale and Astarion's (boxy, fabric walls, little covered area outside). Deep blue fabric w/ golden astronomical embroidery, mostly the sort of thing you see on star maps. Little golden tassles around the edges of the tarp (?) and the doorframe. He'd have a small, circular, dark wood side table short enough that you can use it sitting on the ground, and a dark blue pillow next to it; there would be some parchment and a bronze miniature astrolabe on the table. The inside would be just. full to the brim with the gaudiest night-sky-themed pillows you've ever seen. No bedroll, no palette, just a nest that would put those cube pits in trampoline parks to shame. There would be two bird perches for his familiar Medani: one taller one next to his tent and one shorter one under the overhang. The shorter one would have a crow-sized bow-tie hanging from it. Rugs on rugs on the outside area ofc. 3. What would their character quest be titled? Why? (Peri)

This is a hard one! His tav ending involves taking over the Waterdeep arm of the Harpers, so I think his arc would have something to do with that. He'd be pretty bitter about being dropped into another near-apocalyptic mess when dealing with the last one a few years prior was supposed to be a one-time thing. Something-something ptsd in a world that doesn't have the words for that yet, something-something 'once a hero always a hero', something-something the weight of responsibility...he's a planeswalker so I think part of it would be whether he decides to stay on Toril long-term and directly help rebuild the Waterdeep Harpers or if he continues to run travel around afterwards, so maybe The Far Traveller/The Far Walker?

Harpson/Fae-son are also potential options. "Fae-son" nods to him being a changeling without it being super obvious (like Astarion's "The Pale Elf"). It would also mimic his backstory reveals from RoT ("oh he's not 'from here' so, like, the Feywild" -> "OH he's not from here"). 7. Describe their arc. How would a player help resolve it? What choices can be made? Can your Tav be turned down a dark path, or pulled to a lighter one? (Diodore)

Buckle up because we're in for a long one here. I've thought about Dora's story arc a lot because she's the first of my tavs that I truly made for the game while having full control over her backstory, etc. (versus Corentin, who had their arc baked into the story as a durge). Dora's a paladin of Corellon (oath of ancients) and her story arc as a companion would have to do with whether or not she should accept capital-r-Redemption, the process by which a drow can be truly "freed" from Lolth and rejoin the ranks of the rest of elven society. It involves all of the Redeemed drow's memories being erased and them being reincarnated as a surface elf. The implication seems to be that without that, regardless of a drow's actions, they'd be thrown back to Lolth when they die? Or at least that their eternal fate is unknown (which is the way I prefer to think of it for. personal reasons). Under normal circumstances, Dora would be a long way from Redemption being presented to her at all (she's not even 200 yet and has only been on the surface for a couple decades), but like with the other gods' Chosen among the companions, near-apocalyptic circumstances tend to speed up those sorts of things.

Of course, you'd have the themes of faith & relationship with deity when they're all unequivocally real and are also mostly all assholes; maintaining or breaking generational cycles; facing the unknown; morality when none of your choices are "good" (and how that interacts with morality vs self preservation); power vs freedom; identity outside of the people who made you; etc. The choice would first be presented to her sometime in late Act I/early Act II, likely the first long rest after the group resurfaces from the Underdark and you've probably gotten some of her backstory already. I have no idea how Larian would have characterized Corellon, but he's considered one of the more benevolent/open-minded deities iirc, which could be interesting to see contrasted with Mystra, Vlaa'kith, and Shar. How much that open-mindedness would extend to a drow, even one who has been a faithful follower even before she escaped to the Surface (and who inherited that faith from her father), is unclear. At the beginning of the game she would be leaning towards accepting Redemption, despite her own misgivings about whether or not she would still be her in that case.

Her final decision (at the ending pier scene) would depend on the relationship she has with the PC and the other companions. Her best ending, imo, would be her not accepting Redemption but continuing to be a force for good. If she has a good relationship with the PC, she would have something to lose. I think seeing the House of Mourning would affect her too. After all, the thing Corellon is offering to her as a way to find peace is the same thing the Sharrans are using as a way to manipulate and control others.

She's viscerally aware of how she was socialized and very actively chooses "good", so pushing her towards a darker path would be incredibly difficult but not impossible. If you side with the goblins she'll leave immediately, and turn on you if she's in your party when you attack the grove. But if you decide to try and control the cult in Act II, depending on your over-all actions before then and how you've interacted with her, you could disillusion her to the point of convincing her to break her oath. That path would entail convincing her that controlling the cult is actually the best idea. I'm sure there would be other times that her oath could break that wouldn't necessarily lock her into an "evil" path, especially with how Oathbreakers are handled in the game. Knocking out Minthara instead of killing her outright and letting Auntie Ethel go in Act I instead of killing her are two things that come to mind.

If she doesn't choose Redemption she would be at the epilogue party, of course. I'm a bit undecided on what would happen if she does choose Redemption. She may not be there at all, w/ Jaheira, Halsin, Minthara, and/or Astarion mentioning running into her in her new, reincarnated state. Or she would be there, confused, and mention how the PC seems familiar in a way she can't quite place. In that case, she would ask them how they know each other and mention something about feeling a twinge of grief looking at everyone, but that she doesn't know why she feels that way. It would be up to the PC how much they tell her (if they tell her anything at all).

[kuiperblog]

Where Star Wars went wrong

Quoting Jason Pargin, who articulates it better than I could:

"In any kind of a sane world, The Mandalorian should have run for 150 episodes at least. They had a formula here that could have worked forever.

"It's a formula that has always worked: a heroic stranger wanders into a strange new land and meets a bunch of colorful characters, usually under the thumb of a powerful threat. The threat is usually in the form of a villain who's played by a famous actor just chewing the scenery. He uses hits wits and his courage to get out of it and then he moves on.

"Have Gun, Will Travel" ran for 225 episodes from 1957-1963. It's where Gene Roddenberry of Star Trek fame got his start.

"The sci-fi space adventures we had years and years ago used to run forever. Star Trek TNG had about 180 episodes, Deep Space 9 had about the same number, even Voyager -- the show that we think of as being a "lesser series" -- had 172 episodes. And here's the thing: most of those episodes were really good!

"But because of the way the business works now, and because of 'corporate synergy,' by season 2 of the Mandalorian, they were brainstorming "how do we get this back to Luke Skywalker and the Death Star?"

"By season 3, fans were lost, because some huge plot events had occurred in a completely different series, because they needed it to connect to their Boba Fett show. And now, the Mandalorian is dead. They're gonna wrap up the story in a movie, and that's it.

And the crazy part is, this was always the perfect format for Star Wars: it always should have been a short form serial! That's what George Lucas was ripping off when he made the film back in 1977: serials like Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon.

These were little 12-minute long episodes that played as one continuing story, but each one was its own little lighthearted adventure that usually ended on some kind of a cliffhanger.

"This is why so many of the most hardcore Star Wars fans who are old like me only like two of the movies, because by the third film they were already just repeating beats: they were attacking yet another Death Star.

They ran out of ideas so fast, because this is not the ideal format for this universe. The Mando and Baby Yoda Show is the ideal format! This should have run for the next 20 years! They even set it up so that the star wouldn't even need to be on set for most of it, because he wears a helmet!

"I think some fans object to this, because they think of it as making Star Wars smaller, that you're reducing it to 'just a TV show.' But it's the exact opposite: it lets you expand the universe, because you're forced to to keep coming up with new places for him to go, and new people for him to meet, new villains for him to face -- you're not forced to just keep coming back to the Death Star again and again, and the Sith, and the Jedi.

In Episode VII: The Force Awakens, the Starkiller Base destroys five planets. That's mathematically five times more tragic than the destruction of Alderaan.

"And if you want evidence, just look at Star Trek! It's the show that expanded the universe. The Star Trek films were just action movies that are very forgettable. But I guess the world has changed, because they don't even do Star Trek that way anymore.

Picard ended its run after 30 episodes. Discovery concluded after 65. Hopefully, Strange New Worlds marks a return to form for the franchise.

"I don't get it, because it seems like a version of this show that runs until the year 2040 would have just printed money. The merchandise sales alone would have covered the production costs. Instead, it's 24 episodes and a movie that I think everyone has already stopped caring about."

[strkly]

honey

s.m: after being off the grid for a while you return to society and meet up with your old friend bucky barnes. unexpectedly you run into someone you never thought you would see again. your high school boyfriend robert reynolds.

robert ‘bob’ reynolds x fem!reader

w.c: 4.8k

c.w: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of drugs/drug addictions, reader (zero is your hero name) is apart of sam’s team with gravity related powers, bff bucky, you’re exes, the new avengers are chismosas, walker is an asshole, dialogue heavy, not proofread sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes!

a.n: i cried like six times writing this i love bob so much my chest hurts might make a part two but im not sure yet

part two

"bucky are you fucking with me?”

you stare blankly at the tower you had thought was abandoned when you and the rest of the team basically disbanded but the new A sign and the construction trucks littered around the area and tower told you otherwise.

“shut up come on up you’re already cleared for entry.”

you couldn’t believe this was happening. the mission you were recently placed on just so happened to leave you disconnected from society for a few months. bucky, your long time friend, was the first person you were interested in seeing and he agreed. when he sent you his location you merely thought he was pranking you but as you walk inside the building and hit the familiar button to the top of the tower it dawns on you he’s really not joking around.

when the elevator door opens he’s waiting there for you putting away his phone and smiling at you. “look who it is huh” you grin, the sight of your friend warming your heart, you rush towards him and throw your arms around him happily, burying your head in his neck. “i missed you jackass.” “yeah yeah missed you too.”

what you dont notice is the four people all at the bar looking at the scene in what could only be described as horror. “what is happening?” yelena whispers to ava who only shrugs unable to take her eyes off of the strange display.

when you pull away and the two of you begin to exchange a few words the group notices walkers eyes widen in horror upon seeing you and he attempts to push himself out of your line of sight. before any of them could question him the seemingly peaceful conversation between you and bucky turns hostile as you punch him across the face.

“you’re gonna tell me what the hell is going on right now!” alexei ava and yelena all exchange a look before they continue to eat the popcorn they had been snacking on and watching the two of you silently.

“what the hell is this? new avengers? what the fuck are you talking about? and where the hell is sam?” bucky glares at you as he cups his cheek, “can you just listen to me?” you throw your hands up and walk past him standing in the middle of the space not even noticing the group of people as you keep your gaze on bucky. “once you start making sense i’ll listen! god forbid i leave for a couple months and suddenly you’ve join some newly formed avengers team without! sam! who even are these people anyway...” you turn away from him and face the bar without even knowing youd be face to face with the majority of the team.

you scan each of their face one by one as your confusion grows until you land on him. your face drops into a blank stare as walker forces a smile on his face, “zero! hi! so good to see you.”

you say nothing as your head slowly turns towards bucky whos face had already twisted into a grimace knowing what you were going to say. they watch as your hand goes up and buckys body flies towards you, your hands wrapping around his neck. “james bucky barnes you will tell me what the hell is going on, right now!”

the four of them can only stare speechless as the two of you talk over one another, the anger twisted all over your face as bucky attempts to defend himself in strangled breaths. none of them could believe the sight in front of them other than walker who seemed like he had expected this to happen. you had seemed familiar to yelena and now that she saw your powers it had clicked. code name zero, you had been working for the old avengers behind the scenes and was now an associate of the new captain america sam wilson after the two of you became good friends.

if the file she had once read on you was right you could manipulate gravity at your will, a truly dangerous ability. none of them decide to help him simply watching the two of you argue.

“whats going on?” yelena turns to the soft sound of bobs voice who looks concerned as he slowly made his was towards the bar looking back and forth between everyone confused. bob tended to hide up in his room some days but the noise must have drawn his attention to the point he felt the need to come down and see.

all four of them shrug and the now five of them watch as you verbally berate bucky. finally growing tired of him you toss his down and kick him ignoring the groan he lets out you turn to the group hoping you could get some answers from one of them but when your eyes land on the newest addition to the group your expression drops to something unrecognizable.

bob grows uncomfortable under your stare and grips his hands together in front of his as you tilt your head and stare at him.

“robert? bob… reynolds?”

“um,,, yes?”

he fiddles with his fingers as you say nothing for a few moments. the look at your face laced with shock and something he can’t recognize but a small ache grows in his chest for some reason.

“holy shit.”

all eyes turn to bob as he awkwardly fidgets in his place. nobody says anything for a good while until bucky groans as he stands up looking at you. “you know him?”

he asks the question everyone was eager to know you turn your head slightly to look back at him, your voice a lot softer than it had been before. “we um, we were friends, in middle school high school you know,” you turn back to him, realizing he clearly has no memory of you you try to mask how much it hurt. for him to look at you like a stranger. you force a smile on your face as you shake your head.

“it was a long time ago, i dont blame you if you don’t remember.” you watch his face twist as he clearly tries to remember something, anything about you but he turns up blank, “sorry..” its the only thing he can force out but you wave your hand brushing him off. “dont worry about it seriously.”

you let your gaze linger on him for a little bit longer before you turn your back to him and force yourself to talk to bucky once more. he’s changed so much but he hasn’t changed at all. you hadn’t forgotten about him even after all these years have passed, it was almost jarring to see the man you spent so many years with not even seem to remember your name should make you angry but you knew him, you knew bob.

he was never really in the right mental state, with the stuff hes been through and the path he had been down you dont blame him for not remembering. hell if you were him you wouldn’t want to remember that time either but it still stung in a way you didn’t know could sting.

bucky decided to drag you off to a room where the two of you could talk thing out alone, bob doesn’t know why he cant take his eyes off of you as you walk away and why it bothers him so much. as soon as the two of you are our of ear shot everyone turns to bob.

he has no clue how to answer their questions and they quickly grow bored once they realize he truly has no memory of you. as the rest of them engross himself in another conversation about who you were bob finds himself lost in thought. you clearly knew him but it was odd you seemed to think positively of him. you didn’t look at him with disgust your gaze was something more like, fond? no it couldn’t be, nobody would look at him like that.

ill always love you honey

the voice rings in his head and he flinches as his hands gripping the bar table tightly. yelena looks at him concerned but he puts a smile on his face and she looks away hesitantly. what was that? the voice had brought him an odd sense of peace it was almost eerie. his head started to hurt as he tried to think about it, the soft pounding that would hit is body whenever someone asked about his childhood or his past. the life he’s tried to forget, he grimaces as he chugs down the glass of water yelena had given him. he wouldnt think about it anymore no matter how much it was bothering him, maybe it was better forgotten.

an hour passed as the rest of the new avengers made conversation about random nonsense until the sound of a door slamming turned all their heads towards the sight of you with a furious look on your face as bucky trailed behind you. “i just can’t believe you barnes.” “you think i wanted this?”

ignoring bucky you look at all of them with an apologetic look and bow your head. “sorry you all had to see me like that, i promise im a lot nicer than that usually.” bucky scowls like he wants to disagree but one look from you closes his mouth and he looks away. you introduce yourself and everyone but bob replies in turns back at you.

you walk towards the bar and reach over, bob isnt listening to what anyone is saying he can’t seem to take his eyes off you, he watch as you pour yourself a drink, your mouth moving to converse with the other members, a light smile graces your face as you continue to foster your drink. his head hurts. “you should do it to walker next.” the man in question glares daggers at ava who smiles and shrugs back at him. “dont tempt me.” “hey!” you laugh and his chest starts to ache even more.

when you turn your head lightly to look at him he freezes, there's something so familiar about you, he finds himself subconsciously leaning towards you like he was freezing cold and you were a warm fireplace. when you lightly smile at him before turning away he feels his whole world stop. a sudden flash pops up in his head and its you, much younger than you are now grinning at him ear to ear and he flinches, closing his eyes as he tries to push the memory away subconsciously. so he really did know you back then. his memories from his time that long ago were spotty at best, he could remember some things but they were all blurry.

he finally tunes back into the conversation when it turns to him, more specifically you and him. “you have to tell us the story between you two.” yelena wags her finger back and forth between you and bob, a mischievous look on her face as the other agree. you shake your head frantically as you shrug, “i mean whats there to say…”

“oh come on he doesnt know anything you have to tell us everything.” you turn to look at bob expecting him to tell them to stop, he probably doesn’t want them knowing about his past but the look of anticipation on his face tells you what you needed to know. you sigh and try to think about how to word this without letting them know the real dynamic of your relationship.

“well we met during middle school, kept in contact after he had dropped out of highschool. he was always getting himself into some shit and i had to bail him out.” your tone lightens up as you fondly remember your youth, “whenever he was out too late and didnt come home i was so pissed i thought i was gonna have to walk down to the station.”

“home? you guys lived together?” you barely even noticed you let that slip out, quickly covering your wide eyes with a sip of your drink and a wave of your hand. “you know his home life wasnt the best so,,, you know he just stayed with me thats all.” you tried your best to make it sound as casual as possible but it was painfully obvious that wasnt the case.

bob couldnt wrap his head around this. he had no one during his youth or atleast he thought he did but why did your words seem so right to him. a couple more flashes appered in his mind. a warm quiet home, cozy to the point he was uncomfortable to be in there alone but he wasnt really alone was he? there was always someone by his side, sitting on the couch with him standing in the kitchen with him. something in the house standing out to him.

“the tapestry.” all eyes dart to bob who had been silent this whole time, your eyes widen in shock at his words. “it was so ugly.” your shocked face twists into mock anger as you cross your arms the smile on your face and the joy in your tone unable to hide how happy you were. “can you stop saying that? i worked really hard on that thing.” “it was so ugly..” “really? after all this time you still think its ugly,,,” you look at the confused group of heros and sigh, “when i first started to crochet i made a tapestry to hang on my wall in my apartment but this jackass always thought it was so ugly. i still have it you know.” “you should throw it out.”

he doesn’t know why he cant help but tease you, he doesn’t tease anyone but it seems like second nature. the affectionate look you have on your face as you fake glare at him fills his heart with a strange sensation.

“holy shit.” your face drops at walkers voice and you turn to glare at him. “you were his girlfriend werent you.”

your stomach plummets. everyone turns to look at you expecting you to outright deny it but when you are stuck frozen in shock staring at walker he starts to laugh. “no fucking way, you were his little girlfriend.”

he turns away, laughing like it was the funniest thing on earth as you stare daggers into his back. “shut the fuck up walker.” your tone has lost all the previous joy it once had as you stare at him with disgust.

as the group explodes in chaos bobs head spins, he can barely compose himself before you lean down towards him and whisper, “im sorry honey.”

honey. the nickname unlocks memories he had buried so deep down he had forgotten them.

he met you during 7th grade. you were desk mates, the overly friendly cheery girl who didn’t seem bothered by his lack of responses to your questions and shy demeanor. you sat with him during lunch, shared your notes with him, played with him during recess. you slowly became his whole world.

you ended up asking him to be your boyfriend in 8th grade at your middle school graduation and you started dating. when he dropped out of high school and left home had no clue what he was gonna do but you took him in, living alone in an apartment with your uncle who was never home made it easy enough for bob to move in with you. while you were at school he did things you didn’t like to think about but he always tried to be home by the time you go back from your after school job.

he was so happy. throughout his shitty life you were the only constant and good thing he had, he loved you so much he always cheered up when he saw you.

some particular memories stand out to him, one of them was when the two of you were at home. you were both 17. you had moved out of your uncles and bob came with you. it was a sunday your only true day off, his head was laying in your lap clearly he was on something but you didn’t seem you to mind.

you played with his hair and you read a book, his eyes were mindless on the tv show you had thrown on neither of you were paying attention to it. his eyes trailed off the tv and onto the wall. you had many different knickknacks and trinkets postered up on your walls. awards you won during school, gifts people gave you. but one thing caught his eyes and he grimaced.

“what is that?” you look down at him, following his line of sight towards your wall. “which thing honey?” he points to the tapestry you have hung on your wall. it was white, it looked like someone was in the middle but he couldn’t make it out. “its a tapestry.” “its ugly,” you punch him in the stomach and he groans, “i made that jackass.” he laughs as you wack him again, “sorry sorry its just wow that thing is hideous.” you huff in disbelief and cross your arms. “i worked really hard on it thank you very much.” “what even is that thing in the middle? a rat?” “its a flower you asshole.”

you throw your book to the side as you punch him and the two of you soon befall into a fit of laughter as he apologizes over and over and you keep on lightly hitting him. soon enough the two of you stop to caught your breaths. you lean your head to look at him and his heart swells at the pure affection in your gaze, he knows hes looking at you the exact same way. “i love you.” only after your bring your lips down to his and cup his face his heart calms down enough for him to be able to reply that he loves you too.

the next memory is the day before he had left you a few years later. he had been in jail for god knows what for the hundredth time. he always knows its you who bailed him out and he’s thankful for it. but as he’s walking out to see you the guard escorting him, it was a small town, you all knew each other, he had grown used to seeing this particular officer at the station but that day he had said something that bothered him. “shes such a smart girl. such a bright future ahead of her. such a shame shes stuck with you holding her down.”

it bothers him. it bothers him so much because its true. he cant even bring himself to smile or hug you back as you throw yourself to his arms. when you pull alway and cup his face concerned he tells you he’s fine and walks past you. its so clear you’re trying your best to cheer him up like you always did but he was so set in his plan not even you buying his favorite take out or cuddling him in bed could help.

it was later that night. the house was completely dark and quiet. the only sound he can hear is your soft breathing as you sleep and the whirling of the fan above you. he couldnt sleep, staring up at the ceiling, allowing himself to revel in your warmth one last time.

a few hours pass before he lets himself slip out of your arms. he gathers some things i had around your room and attempts to slip out but he freezes when he hears you groan. “honey what are you doing?” “just getting some water.” you hum and settle back down to sleep as he sighs in relief. right as he’s about to close the door he can hear you mumble loud enough for him to hear. “ill always love you honey.” he stands frozen. he almost just gives up, dropping all his shit and turning around and laying in bed with you without a care in the world. he cant. he knows he cant it would kill him. “i love you too.” he whispers to the air. you would never hear him say that as he closes the door and never turns back.

he leaves you a note, telling you hes leaving and not to look for him. by the time you wake up for college he’ll hopefully already be out of the state. he places the box he had made of all the stuff you got him on the coffee table in your living room taping the note ontop of it. he takes one long final glance around the room he would never see again as his heart breaks. memories run through his mind of every second you shared together, this is for the best he knows it is but it hurts. it hurts so much.

tears run down his face as he forces himself with the clothes on his back and the small stack of cash he gained from odd jobs you helped him get. it felt wrong to take any of the stuff you had given him, he didn’t deserve any of it he didn’t deserve you. he didn’t know where he was going just that he was going somewhere, somewhere far far away from you.

he could never stop thinking about you no matter how much time had passed. he cried so much he could barely do anything else. so he decided to forget. force himself to lock up the memories of you and the best years of his life, the only good memories he had forced away so he could try to do something else anything else with his life other than missing you.

“bob?” yelena leans in towards him concerned. he has no clue how much time has passed. you’re too busy yelling at walker as bucky holds you back. ava and alexei too entertained to notice him but yelena did. you turn back to look at him at the sound of his name and your eyes widen, throwing walker against the wall you rush towards him, ignoring the way walker groans and curses at you as you bend down to eye level with him. bob had tears streaming down his face, violently shaking, “i left you im sorry im sorry.” your face falls into a pout as you look at him, unable to say anything simply staring at him.

yelena stands up with one clap of her hands shes rushing everyone out the room. “everyone out lets go.“ “no i want to watch them.” nope everyone out.” it takes a minute but she quickly rushes everyone out of the room sparing you a smile before she closes the door leaving you alone with him. you silently thank her in your mind before turning you attention towards bob.

he covered his face with his hands as he sobbed into his palms. “bob?” he wouldn’t respond, too lost in his emotions so you sigh. standing up you grip his forearms and tug at them. “come on honey.” he atleast follows you this time, allowing him to pull you to sit on the floor with him, still not looking at you.

“i looked for you.” he twitches but doesn’t dare look up. “i spent the next week running around the city looking for you at every corner. i was so scared j was gonna find you laying on the ground in some alley way.” your words seems to make his crying worse as he cant stop mumbling over and over again how sorry he was. “even after that i spent so long looking for you in every person i came across. it was second nature to glance around the street to see if i would see you, hell i dont know if i ever even stopped doing that.”

“i couldnt be the one to ruin your life.” he finally allows himself to whisper the thing he’s always thought. you would have never been able to achieve what you have if he stayed by your side. he only would have dragged you down, you probably would still be living in that old run down apartment building in florida if he had stayed. your face falls and you look down at the ground, tears pooling up in your eyes. “bob.”

“you are so amazing, everyday i was in awe of you, i was the thing setting you back. i had to go but it hurt you im sorry.” you reach over and grip his forearm, you can feel him shaking under your grip and the tears begin to spill down your face. “im happy you left.“

he looks up at you alarmed. as if you had said the craziest thing ever but you looked beyond him to the window outside. “you were miserable.”

“no i was so happy with you-“ “but you were so unhappy with your life!” he flinches as you raise your voice, you quietly apologize and fix your volume before you speak again, you shouldn’t let your emotions take over you like that. “i could tell, every single day you were just so miserable, it made me so sad to think about when i went to school or work you were just sitting at home alone doing nothing but getting high or you were getting yelled at at some part time job. you deserved so much better, you think i was being dragged down by you i was the one dragging you down.”

he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. you had thought you were keeping him down? that was ridiculous. he was the one who was going to ruin your life. when he opened his mouth to stop you you continued to speak over him. “i would have been so content just staying in that stupid city in that stupid apartment with you because i would have been with you. if you stayed i probably would have graduated from that community college and get some job at some office there to support us but you never would have been happy. you deserved more than that. to go out there to go see the world leave that city you were stuck in.”

the grip you must have on his arm would kill another man but neither of you notice lost in your own world, “if you leaving me got you here im so happy you did. look at you, you’re a hero honey, just like you always wanted to be. “

he has nothing to say. his body still shaking, as more silent tears run down his face. he cant believe you had thought like this, your words feel unreal to him. he doesnt even know what emotion he’s feeling.

“im sorry.” its the only words he can force out of his mouth. his stomach pulled in knots as forces himself to look down at the floor. you know maybe it wasn’t the best decision to dump all that on him but you couldnt help it, the thoughts you had been thinking for over a decade finally spilling from your lips. you sit in silence for awhile. you know its not good to leave it off there.

“you know what the best apology you can give me is?” when your voice unintentionally cracks he weakly looks up at you, “if you can tell me you’re happy now, without the need to stick some needle in your arm or shoot some powder up your nose you’d make me so happy.”

he sniffs a bit, finally seemingly calmed down and nods. “theyre nice to me, um im happy. i haven’t even thought about that stuff in awhile, it feels so nice. im so happy.” you choke back the sob that builds in your throat, “then thats more than enough for me.” he places his hand on top of yours and the two of you just sit and smile at each other for a bit.

“hey you wanna go eat? theres this place i really like around here havent been in ages, you can even bring your friends ill call over some of mine too.” his smile grows larger than ever and happily nods.

you dont know what the future will hold for either of you, unexpectedly running into the man you could never forget was certain to stir up some feelings in you, but for now you were so happy to see him so happy.

[kathaynesart]

RECOMMENDED MUSIC: Boom Goes the Donnie-mite (Mikey/Donnie/Raph vs the Sweeper) - "The Red Zone" by Mitsuoto Suzuk

Finally! This big ol' update is out! Thank you everyone for your patience. Hopefully the next one will be much sooner since I already have parts of it drawn out. We're nearing the end of... uh, lets just call it the "Holiday Special."

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

Also couldn't get this out of my head as I was drawing this update:

Mikey's Ninpo:

Donnie's Ninpo:

Anyways, have some long winded deep dive into Donnie and Mikey's powers below the cut:

Mikey and Donnie are interesting because I feel these two are the ones who truly reach the full potential of their gifts. Mikey isn't there as of yet in the story but he will be by the end of Replica. Where as Leo and Raph had a lot of other things to focus on (leading, planning, and dealing with colony drama), Donnie and Mikey took the time to really focus on themselves and their abilities, choosing to distance themselves from a lot of the drama that the leaders of the family have to deal with.

Mikey's Ninpo

I always found it interesting how Mikey's weapon (the kusari-fundō) seemed to be the only one that had an actual entity within it. While they never address it, it's obviously some sort of flame demon/spirt. It could also help explain Mikey's dramatic increase in strength knowing that the spirit of his weapon is literally able to help him lift boats and buildings. I like to think that Michelangelo formed a connection with the spirit, especially since he looked so crushed when the Shredder destroyed his weapon in a way that none of the other brothers had.

Shortly after the victory against the Shredder I imagine he comes across his destroyed weapon in their old lair (probably while they're gathering thing to move to their new home) and he can still feel the sad little remnants of the spirit clinging to life in the broken object. I feel this would be the turning point that would lead to Mikey's first dip into the mystic arts. He would bring the weapon back to Barry for guidance and Barry would explain that the spirit has been bound to the object for so long that it can no longer survive on its own. Normally it could be bound to a new object but in it's dying state it would not be able to attach properly.

It is Mikey who suggests that maybe if it was bound to a person rather than a inanimate object then maybe the person could help the spirit survive. Barry admits the reasoning is sound and after much coercing finally helps guide Mikey through the steps, allowing the fire spirt to bind itself to Mikey's being (think something similar to Howl and Calcifer in Howl's Moving Castle, sans the heart losing). At first, not much seems to comes of the union. The spirit is still too weak to be able to do much of anything, but over time it regains its strength in tandem with Mikey and is able to gift him with similar abilities, becoming an integral part of Mikey's arsenal as well as a new spiritual connection to the Hamato family line. That is what we get a peek of here in this chapter.

Donnie's Ninpo

Just as Mikey canonically will go through a sort of mystic and spiritual enlightenment, Donnie too will have a similar scientific revelation. It always bothered me in the movie that his "firepower" (guns, missiles, etc) never seemed to be very effective, or at least not as effective as his ninpo designed physical constructs (such as the jet packs and the giant drill he uses on both the Krang and the Shredder). I believe this is because with physical constructs like a drill he has a sense of the weight and velocity needed to understand how hard it should hit. This properly visualized weight and damage is then made into reality.

But it's different with firearms and bombs. Up until the movie he really doesn't have a lot of real world experience around artillery and projectiles outside of what he sees on the internet and film. He does not know how a megaton bomb should feel or even the damage a bullet can create. And don't get me started on the the imaginary ray guns he uses on the Krang that don't seem to even leave a scratch. Without proper knowledge it's all just a light show. Very flashy, but not very effective.

When he realizes this it comes as a heavy hit to Donnie early on in the war. ...However, if there's one thing he is going to be exposed to in this bad timeline it's weapons of all kinds, even mass destruction. He will know exactly how it feels to get hit with a bullet, the blast of a projectile, and even an atomic bomb. He will then take this real world knowledge and recreate it in the same realistic way he can recreate his battle shell or drill staff. It takes a lot of work, sweat, and literal blood but this exposure to the worst of mankind's creations will help make him a walking encyclopedia of destruction. Over time, he will no longer need to make actual constructs of "bombs" or "bullets." He'll be able to simply create the pure raw power desired, no radiation or nuclear fusion needed. That's exactly what we see here.

We also see his use of shields, which is just as important as his ninpo arsenal. Specifically his ability to create shields to contain his own blasts, dramatically reducing the collateral damage from his own weapons of mass destruction. This makes him highly effective at taking down large enemies, but the shields sap his strength even more than the weapons (for it is easy to destroy, but hard to protect and preserve). This makes him often times a liability. He's often a sitting duck after pushing himself too hard and it can take him a decent amount of time to build these heavy hitting bombs. It's a double edged sword to be sure.

NOTE: these are stories I do plan to address further in my Patreon, with proper illustrations, but I wanted to give a little taste of what to expect! Haha. Very soon....

[stars-obsession-pit]

John Constantine had had to fake a marriage with a powerful magical entity to get out of a tight spot. He chose the Ghost King. After all, it’s not like Pariah Dark could contest it from within his sarcophagus

It still hadn’t been a great idea, but hey. It worked. The marriage contract document he’d magicked up had managed to convince them he was telling the truth.

And he thought that’d be the end of it.

But as his gaze met a pair of glowing green eyes from across the dim evening light of his motel room, he realized with mounting horror how wrong he had been.

Even if the man’s aura hadn’t given it away immediately, the ghostly flaming crown atop his head left no room for question.

His information had been wrong. Pariah wasn’t the Ghost King anymore. And whomever this new king was, he had come to take revenge for Constantine’s lies.

He was fucked. And sadly not in the fun way, an unhelpful part of his brain commented, staring appreciatively at the king’s superlative form

Maybe, maybe, he could bargain his way out of this. But if the King attacked, he’d be snapped in half like a twig. Hell, the ghost might not even need to use his powers considering how muscular he was…

He tried to speak, to argue his case, but words failed. Of all the times to become tongue-tied...

The ghost seemed to notice his panic, and grinned. Then, in a teasing voice, he asked, “What? Is it really so strange to see your husband in your bedroom?”

Constantine’s whole face turned scarlet.

The ghost chuckled.

Yep. He was beyond fucked.

[deikshen]

The Shen Yuan that dies - really dies. He actually dies and doesn't transmigrate, but well, you know, death is a timeless thing and the flow of time itself in the world of the dead is so weird lol So, well, let me make up that all the demons and ghost kings and cultivators inhabit this powerful timeless space where the dead also go, and oh, there's Shen Yuan now -

So, Shen Yuan is just a silly ghost fire filled with pent-up rage, damn shitty novel, damn shitty author. Is he “alive” for something? Because of how much he hates PIDW and its fucked up ending. Get a lower-ranking ghost body because he's just... angry at Airplane. His new form is, ah, well, different and weird, but he can grow his hair to go unnoticed, and can steal some robes.

Get a small job eventually just because he was bored and although he don't need to eat, it would be nice to have extra money - and the tea house owner doesn't care if he's a human or a ghost as long as he's not creepy with the customers and serves their tables. It's a routine that gives him the quick financial support to get bad books, complain more - and maybe he's getting stronger because of it? Because of his anger at mediocre authors and repressed anger? Does it even make sense?

At some point, Tonglu opens. Shen Yuan has headaches and the desperate feeling that he must go, as if he summoned. He tells his boss he's going to be out for ghostly reasons - his boss is like, oh, you needed a vacation anyway. And Shen Yuan goes.

It's a massacre, of course. A mix between the Hunger Games and the Purge, but Shen Yuan has something they definitely don't: a lot of knowledge in shooting video games. And he doesn't have a gun, but hey, he can shoot resentful spiritual energy and it works like bullets or something - he soon discovers that the more ghosts he overcomes, he becomes stronger. He has more power to throw, more skills, a stronger body.

Go to the kiln. Have bloody fights. At some point he gets a sword and it takes him forever and nothing like a training sequence to use it properly. And finally, the kiln opens and Shen Yuan comes out looking... Well, stronger.

He returns to the teahouse to change and take a bath. The owner tells him that it's been thirteen years, what the hell, but lets him in and gives him hot water and clothes.

Shen Yuan's new body and new abilities are strange to him. He notices himself taller. Stronger. His hearing and smell have improved. His abilities seem to be more wordy, as if he could persuade people if he spoke to them in a specific tone, as if his words could bind them. Well, it's not a bad way to be dead.

Shen Yuan tries to continue working at the tea house, but the humans are clearly terrified by the powerful ghost king aura in their area, so there are hardly any customers. Shen Yuan just sighs and decides to leave. He has some savings anyway.

Ghosts run away from him. Humans either try to kill him or hide. Shen Yuan is fed up; no matter if it is in the mortal world or the ghost world, people are gossiping about him and how he has not taken a Territory, about how unorthodox he is, about how they are waiting for him to start his killing spree one day.

Shen Yuan learns to change his appearance from creepy ghost to normal human, hide his resentful energy, and camouflage himself in the human world. It's a long way from his old tea house, and so many years have passed that the kind owner has probably already died, so Shen Yuan gets another job at a bookstore. Nothing unusual. Just a boy who was once from a wealthy family and was disinherited when his older brother took over the family leadership because of their bad relationship. Now he must work to live.

People swallow that story like a good meal, some even feel sorry for him.

And Shen Yuan is having a decent afterlife. Boring, mostly, but with good days. He reads a lot, gets angry a lot, writes authors letters that reach their desks without them even realizing how the hell did this crazy guy find his addresses. Let's just say he's having an interesting life.

Then one day, he meets Luo Binghe.

He... He literally knows that he's Binghe. It couldn't be anyone else but Luo Binghe. He does his investigations, and apparently, Emperor Luo Binghe exists, he has been there all along. It's not like Shen Yuan knew it; the ghost realm and the human-demon realm are divided, and even if they have a common mortal ancestor, demons and ghosts don't usually meddle in their own things.

Not that Shen Yuan wants to be cannon fodder anyway; he keeps his distance in Binghe, works at that bookstore, gives friendly greetings to his customers, and keeps sending angry letters to authors.

And one day Shen Yuan receives a direct visit from Luo Binghe at his door. With a letter in his hand.

"This letter was on my Second Wife's desk," Luo Binghe says, with a fake smile. "No one but her can open or read it, so this Lord wonders after discovering the resentful energy signature on the paper, what missives does this Ghost King exchange with one of the Emperor's wives?"

Shen Yuan is not surprised that Luo Binghe knows who he is - ever so OP the Protagonist! However, it is more difficult to explain that his wife actually writes cut-sleeved novels that the fact that Shen Yuan was reading and criticizing them in the first place.

Well, he's been dead for over a hundred years, really denying that he's at least bisexual at this point in his life...

[sakuravalenp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[thbbie]

༄ knight!suguru x queen!reader

knight suguru will readily serve his queens every need.

having been born of a low rank and with virtually no status in society he managed to some how become a knight to the royal family, a knight to the only princess of the kingdom.

form your days as princess, he's been your most trusted and loyal guard. you keep him close, and are practically never seen without him dutifully following you only a few steps behind.

there had been scandalous rumours about the two of you, rumours of things a princess should never be accused of but it all died down once you were crowned queen.

to be crowned queen of course, you had to marry.

some foreign kings son, a political union. the wedding was grand, extravagant, everything you would expect a royal wedding to look like.

beautifully ornamented ball rooms, music, expensive gowns, the finest wine. nobles and representatives of foreign powers all attended, to celebrate the wedding, but really, to celebrate the new monarch in the region.

you sit on your throne with your newly wed husband next you in his own. beautiful in your white gown, you look like an angel. the image of beauty and elegance.

suguru watches from a short distance away, standing in his place behind your throne. he thinks back to the hours before the wedding had began, the two of you alone in your chambers.

you called for him. dressed in the gown you are to marry another man in yet you called for him. suguru takes you leaning back on your bed and spreading your legs for him as an invitation, but he doesn't move. he stares you right in the eyes the whole time, unmoving until you give orders for him to do otherwise.

"come closer suguru."

and he does, having been here countless times before — he knows just what to do but he never does so without hearing the confirmation for what you both already know.

suguru walks to you, kneeling when he gets to the edge of your bed. your wedding gown pushed up and your legs dressed in lingerie for another are spread for him.

the smell of you envelops him.

"you look beautiful"

strangely suguru feels at home here, with his face snug against your pussy and his hands holding your spread legs, but tonight it seems you don't have the patience for his candied words, tugging him further into you by his dark tresses, using them as leverage to push and pull his head into whatever position you like best.

your knight is not a man of many complaints, instead, he works his tongue over your feet lads the way he knows you like it.

sucking tenderly at your clit, circling it with his tongue. oh he wishes he could see your face but doubts that's something he could handle; suguru's hands grasp at your adorned thighs. dressed in thin white lace, his roughened fingers grip your thighs through the intricately designed fabric — grounding himself.

the soft cacophony of your moans bounce around in his head;

"more, more. hah~ suguruu",

suguru feels drunk, lapping away at your core with vigour. the gentle tender strokes of his tongue replaced with his hunger. his precious queen issued a command, and he'd hardly be your favourite if he disobeyed.

he plunges his tongue into you, having you in a way no other will after him. he cannot help groaning into you at the thought, at your taste, at the way your hands grip his hair tighter and pull the delicious sting in his scalp making him dizzy.

with his face messy and hair in disarray, suguru looks far from presentable right now, and you think he looks bests like this. on his knees; lost, feral, crazed. desperate. in a strange animalistic kind of way, he is desperate for you .

his grip on your thighs tightens, and tightens and tightens until the delicate fabric gives in beneath the force of his fingers, breaching little holes into it and finally getting to touch your soft warm skin.

he keeps his eyes closed, focusing on selfishly feeling you for what may be the last time.

in that moment a wicked thought comes to him, a way of making himself indispensable to you. (he is now, but suguru could never not want more of you)

every touch of his is purposeful, weighed and measured to perfection to have you twisting and gasping and crying out. your nails rake down his back, marking what was, and will always be yours. no ring, or contract, or union would ever be capable of changing that .

you're getting married now, and your most trusted knight stand behind you with pride, tall proud and smug. it is not pride at the union you have with the faceless man at your side, but pride in knowing that he is the only one truly worthy of protecting his queen. the only one worthy of caring for his queen. and the only one truly capable of satisfying all her needs.

your taste is still on his lips and suguru's licking them slow with a hungry tongue to savour every last drop.

[semification]

- DIE WITH A SMILE . . . VERITAS RATIO ✧.*

Veritas comes to realize that he loves you, but perhaps he comes to that realization far too late.

content: fem reader, death, penacony quest spoilers, angst with comfort (?), blood & injuries, veritas is a meanie (but he INSTANTLY regrets it!1!), friends to (grins evilly) …lovers

authors note: first fic on this account i hope you guys like it <3 i ran out of motivation while writing this halfway can u tell. anyways go stream die with a smile by bruno mars and lady gaga because i was listening to that song on loop while making this fic and i think its a super fitting song for this hehe

wc: 5.9k (its a quick read i promise)

masterlist

“You’re being ridiculous, Veritas.”

Bickering with Dr. Veritas Ratio was not out of the ordinary. In fact, it was a pastime for the two of you, engaging in various academic debates to see which party presented a better argument. It was seen as a great deal of praise to be able to do such a thing with an esteemed man like Veritas. It made it seem like you two stood on the same ground–the same ground of a man who felt so out of reach.

“Oh, really now? I’m the one being ridiculous? I am ‘ridiculous’ simply because I am looking out for your safety, Y/N?”

This… however, this was not normal. This quarrel felt personal, stemming from your feelings instead of facts and objective data. This felt like an attack on your friendship–but from the amount of vile he’s spitting from his mouth, you wonder if Veritas has ever considered you as a friend in the first place.

The more he speaks, the more you are reminded that you didn’t stand on the same ground as him. You felt terrifyingly inferior, and even though he was right in front of you, you felt like you were miles away from him. 

“No, I’m saying you’re ridiculous for calling me weak and incapable because apparently, I’m not good enough to go on this expedition when it’s my fucking job.”

However, you mostly felt like a fool.

You felt like such a fool for falling in love with a man like him. You fell in love with him because of his neverending thirst for knowledge. You fell in love with him because you were just as much of a bibliophile as he was. You fell in love with him because you wanted to spread your knowledge around the universe as much as he wished to. You fell in love with him because, for a moment, you thought he saw you differently from everyone else, and that he truly enjoyed being in your presence.

You turn away from him, tears forming in your eyes. You stubbornly blink them away, because you think back to what started this argument in the first place.

You had just finished detailing your mission to Veritas, which was your routine every time the Intelligentsia Guild dispatched you on some kind of research expedition. This mission was different, however. You would be gone for three months, longer than usual–and the mission was very combat-oriented and dangerous, which wasn’t like your usual expeditions. Despite the warnings, you still accepted it, thinking of it as something new, but nothing that you couldn’t handle.

Veritas seemed to think otherwise, however, because when you peer over to look at his reaction, he looked very displeased. 

(It wasn’t a very uncommon look to see on his face, but you could tell he seemed more serious–like how the frown lines on his face were deeper than usual.)

You weren’t particularly surprised by the expression on his face. What surprised you the most was the first thing that came out of his mouth after hearing your expedition’s rundown. “Are you sure you’ll be able to go on that mission?”

You look at him incredulously, surprised at the amount of distaste in his voice. His displeasure was directed at… you? “What is that supposed to mean, Veritas?”

“I’m saying that you’re too weak and incapable to go on that expedition, Y/N. I do not know why the Guild would assign you such a difficult mission. They truly are overestimating your power.” The words came out of his mouth so casually, like you had just asked him about the weather. Is this how his students feel when they take his infamous course with a passing rate of a mere three percent? How his students feel whenever they get scolded by him?

You just can’t believe it. He said those words like it were a fact—straight from the myriad of encyclopedias that he’s read. Maybe because it was a fact in his head: he saw you as nothing but “weak” and “incapable”.

A stray tear manages to escape from your eye, and you quickly wipe it away angrily before turning back to Veritas with a sniffle. No. You cannot cry in front of his face. Crying is an expression of weakness–of vulnerability. And what you are trying to prove to Veritas is that you are not “weak”. You are not “incapable” either, and you are going to prove that to him by going on this mission and making him eat his words. 

“I will be leaving in three system hours. Do not bother showing up during my departure.”

You cringe at the way your voice shakes at the end, but you stand firm. Those words were the last thing you said to him before leaving his office with a bitter heart. When you exit his room, you finally let your emotions run free, letting the tears stream down your face without end. You quietly sob as you retreat to your own office, closing the door and letting out a shaky exhale, escaping all the nosy whispers and chatter of the Guild members.

You sob at the heartbreaking realization that just when you think you’ve gotten close to the “untouchable” Veritas Ratio, he pushes you away just like how he does to everyone else… because that’s just simply what you are to him. 

Another person who fades into the background, and nothing more.

Dr. Veritas Ratio is a man who exhibits prestige and greatness like no other. Throughout his academic career, he obtained eight PhDs and graduated with the First Class Honors Degree, which hadn’t been awarded to anyone for two Amber Eras. He was gifted with knowledge, and now he uses that knowledge and spreads it far across the cosmos to “cure idiocy”, treating it like a disease that needs to be treated.

And yet, for once in his life, he refuses to admit it out loud, but he’s acted like the one thing that he completely loathed. The very thing that he was trying to exterminate.

An idiot. He was an idiot, and it was all because he could not word himself correctly when he spoke to you. He has written hundreds of papers, essays, and dissertations, but time and time again, he could not seem to think—to be able to formulate the proper words to say when it came to you.

And now, Veritas has royally messed up, and for once in life, he has no idea what to do.

He was just genuinely concerned for your safety. It was all he thought about once you had finished detailing your expedition to him. He wanted to convince you—to pick the right words to say so he could persuade you not to go, but it seems that his fear of being seen as vulnerable shone through first. It reminded him of the days when you two weren’t close; the days he spoke to you while wearing his alabaster head.

He only wears that head because he “can’t bear to see idiots,” but given how he just called you “weak” and “incapable” in the argument that just transpired, one could almost laugh at the hypocrisy of it all. Veritas may as well talk to himself while wearing the alabaster head.

Because only idiots would address you with those terms. 

You were an enigma to Veritas from the very beginning. People from the Intelligentsia Guild rarely stood out to him, but you were different—sticking out like a sore thumb the moment he laid his eyes on you. 

That’s because your presence utterly enchanted him—you had similar tastes in literary works, you matched his sarcasm and topped it off with even wittier replies, and you also wanted to use your knowledge for other people to learn.

You were not weak and incapable. He saw you as anything but that, in fact. He was at fault for the argument, but he can’t bring himself to say it out loud, for Aeon’s sake.

He knows that he owes you an apology, it’s the least he could do... He just needs to apologize, then convince you to not go on that expedition. You’re scheduled to leave soon—approximately two and a half system hours—he still has time.

And yet, his mind is being stubborn. He knows that he needs to apologize, but he just can’t bring himself to. He can’t remember the last time he’s genuinely apologized to someone—an apology without a trace of sarcasm at that.

“Trouble in paradise, doctor?”

He could recognize the esteemed gambler’s voice from miles away, and it irks him how he always seemed to show up at the worst times. Aventurine’s got a knowing gaze on him—a stare that can pierce through any poker face so he could see exactly what they’re thinking. “I suggest not meddling in any business that doesn’t concern you, gambler.”

Except he’s already got him. “This is about Y/N, isn’t it?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

Aventurine believes that one’s eyes are the windows to the soul–and he doesn’t miss the way Veritas’ eyes soften when he says your name, smiling at the unintentional answer to his question. He definitely doesn’t have the best poker face in town. For such a stoic man, he surely cannot put himself together when it comes to anything that has to do with you.

Aeons. Just what were you doing to him?

There was no use hiding it from him, so he just silently nodded, with Aventurine clicking his tongue. “Rumors fly fast in the guild, especially when Dr. Ratio’s dear friend Y/N was seen walking out of his office crying. I just had to see what this was really about, you know?” 

You were crying when you left?

He doesn’t voice his concern out loud, of course. Instead, Veritas just sighs heavily. “All I wanted to do was convince her to not go on that mission that she’s currently dispatched on. It just seems… far too dangerous.”

Aventurine’s got an idea of what happened next considering how you ran out of this room crying, but he decides to ask anyway. “Oh? And how did that work out for you?”

Veritas refuses to meet his gaze, his heart sinking when he simply thinks about what happened earlier. “…”

“At least humor me, doctor.”

He turns away from Aventurine completely, a deep shade of red coating his cheeks. Was it out of embarrassment? Shame? Whatever it was, he didn’t need him to see it. “…I called her weak and incapable.”

When Aventurine doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, Veritas speaks to fill the silence. “I admit, I did not know what was going through my head when I addressed her with those words.”

The uncomfortable silence drags on for a little longer until it’s interrupted by the piercing sound of Aventurine’s laughter. His laugh makes the red spread across Veritas’ cheeks even more—uncharacteristically so, especially since he’s normally so put together. He doesn’t even have the heart to tell Aventurine to stop laughing, because a small huge part of him feels that he deserves this.

He deserves to sit through this feeling because he knows you faced the same humiliation when he shut you out.

“Hahaha! I can’t—“ Aventurine’s nearly keeling over in laughter, and the gambler swears he could feel tears build up in his eyes. “Oh, please! You have such a way with words, don’t you?”

Aventurine continues, failing to conceal his hysteria. “Weak and incapable? If anything, that’ll only fuel the fire. She’d want to go on that mission just to prove you wrong.”

“I’m well aware. It is exactly what happened after all.” You’re leaving soon. The thought of you leaving makes Veritas’ stomach churn, and he has no idea why. Out of all the many expeditions you’ve been sent on, this is the first time he’s felt this way–been filled with so much dread.

“Well,” Aventurine pretends to think for a moment, putting his hand on his chin. “It won’t hurt to sacrifice a little bit of your already enormous ego to apologize to her, no? There’s enough of your pride to go around.” 

I don’t know if I can bring myself to.

Veritas doesn’t say those words out loud. Instead, he masks his worries with a scoff. Aventurine doesn’t have to know. “Watch your mouth, gambler.”

“Oh my, I really struck a nerve there, did I?”

“Researcher Y/N? I’m sorry sir, she just departed a few minutes ago.”

You left.

The three system hours hadn’t even passed yet—there were still two hours before your scheduled departure—and you left early.

You left, and he didn’t even get the opportunity to apologize. 

The researcher could only watch as the great Veritas Ratio, normally so composed, looks away from him wide-eyed and mouth slightly agape. He’s utterly dumbfounded, a look that is never seen on his face. What is he supposed to do now?

You’re too late.

For the next several weeks, Veritas could only wait anxiously for your return. Worry follows him like a cloud, and even his students pick up on his weird behavior. It’s all so grueling—waiting for you without so much of an idea of how you’re doing or if your expedition is going well. 

While waiting for your return, he plans out his actions for the next time he sees you. He doesn’t want to apologize over text–Veritas sees it as inappropriate and prefers to show his sincerity in person. Face-to-face is how he is going to do it, and he sends you a message in preparation for that. “I’d like for us to talk when you’re back. Please message me immediately upon your arrival.”

…Except an error message stares at him back when he presses the send button. It’s almost mocking him in a sense, like the universe is doing everything in its power to prevent him from atoning for his mistakes. Of course you weren’t going to have signal when you’re so far away from him. Just what was he expecting?

You were scheduled to return after another few weeks, and Veritas could only prepare for the days to pass by excruciatingly slowly. Until then, he thinks over what he’s going to say for his apology. Maybe he could give you something too. He thinks that finding a way to get your favorite flowers is a nice start.

You’re tired.

Exhaustion envelops you like a blanket, and after trying your hardest to resist, you just can’t anymore.

You’re so tired. 

You finally succumb to the fatigue, falling onto the ground as your sword clatters with a thud. You lay there, lying in a pool of your own blood, accepting that this was the cruel fate that the great Aeons above bestowed upon you in the end. You laugh at the absurdity of it all, but it only comes out as a weak cough, which quickly transitions into a fit of hacking up crimson droplets—lighting your throat on fire.

It was a fragmentum monster ambush. The planet you were exploring contained a lot of them–mainly due to the Stellaron corrosion that it was experiencing. After three weeks of exploring, it was supposed to be just another day of collecting data and extracting information for the guild. You’ve done this countless times already–anything out of the ordinary happening was beyond you.

The ambush had occurred when you least expected it–you barely even had the time to draw out your sword. One thing led to another, and at some point, there were just too many of them that leaving the battle unscathed was out of the question. And at the end of it, you were a mess, standing in a field of bodies with blood sticking to your clothes–a mix of the fragmentum and your own. The worst part was that it was mainly your own, with the source coming from a deep gash in your abdomen. You were losing blood at a terrifying rate.

Panic fills your veins once you fully process the gravity of the situation. Heart thumping, you realize that you’re going to die–and you are going to die alone.

What a pitiful end this was.

You’ve sent a distress call to the guild, but you know that your fate has been sealed already. You’ll be long gone before anyone will be here to help you, and they’d just be here to clean up your remains. You hope that the guild would at least grant you a proper funeral.

It’s truly comical how fate works. People your age are usually too busy thinking about marriage, or deciding how many kids they want to have in the near future. And yet, here you are, on the precipice of reaching death’s door, thinking about your funeral. 

Your vision turns blurry, and you sniffle as hot tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Fuck, you don’t want to die. There are far too many things that you haven’t done. And yet, you can’t find the strength to continue on either. You’re just so, so tired.

In the midst of your cries, you softly mumble out a name. A name that you love, hate, and everything in between with a passion.

“…Veritas.”

You initially wanted to go on this mission with the intent of exploring this planet, but after the argument, you know you went mainly because you wanted to prove him wrong.

You wonder if he truly meant those words. Even if he didn’t, maybe he was right, because look at what your determination had cost you–lying in a pool of your own blood, all because you wanted Veritas to see that you weren’t weak and incapable.

Even though you went on this expedition angry at him, (a part of you still is angry) you’ve never wanted to see him so badly in your life. You were going to die with many regrets–perhaps the biggest one was that you never got to tell Veritas how you truly feel about him.

You just want to see him once last time. Is it selfish to ask for one more day with him? One more hour… or to engage in at least one more heated debate. Hell, you’d even take one more minute with him. And in that minute, maybe you’d slap him in the face for what happened. But maybe you’d tell him you love him and kiss him over and over, apologizing for even thinking about slapping his stupidly perfect face. 

Despite how much of an asshole he can be at times, you love Veritas Ratio. You love his snark and sarcasm and everything about him, and you’re going to die without even knowing if he loves you back. This is your biggest regret.

No, you can’t die like this. You need to tell him. You have to.

As darkness starts to cloud your vision, you use all of your remaining strength to pull your phone out from your pocket despite the wound in your abdomen screaming in protest. Your fingers shakily make their way to Veritas’ contact, and with a pained breath, you begin to type.

“Take me to where she sent the distress call, now.”

There was a bunch of commotion in the guild—too much commotion considering how early it was. Veritas could only wonder what all the clamor was about, but he froze once he heard your name leave one of the researcher’s mouths. 

And his biggest nightmare is now a reality once someone finally fills him in on the situation: Your signal had disappeared off the radar, but not after you sent a distress call to the guild. You needed help, yet you were so far from his grasp. “But Doctor, we-“

“I need not repeat myself. Her life is in grave danger, and yet here you are, arguing with me and wasting precious time when this time could be used saving her.” His words surprised both himself and the guild member, who shakily nodded at his request. Veritas was certain that if you were just anybody else, he could have less of a care about your distress signal. But no, this was you—and he needed to make sure that you were okay.

Veritas looked calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, he was falling apart. Calm yourself, you need to be the strong one in this situation. She’s the one in danger here.

Aeons, all he had to do was convince you to not go on this expedition. Instead, he made everything worse with his poor choice of words, and now he’s paying the price for it. He could only hope that he wasn’t too late.

Wait for me Y/N. Please. That’s all I ask.

In his office, there’s a bouquet of your favorite flowers resting on his desk, and they’ve slowly begun to wither away.

When Veritas finally arrived at where you were last seen on the signal, there were bodies littered everywhere, and he could only hope that none of them were yours. Paired with those bodies was the color red—crimson was scattered all over, and it was practically all he could see. Did you take all of these fragmentum down by yourself?

As Veritas inspected all of the fragmentum bodies, all slain by a single blade, one of the researchers accompanying him pointed out a trail of blood leaving the site. It makes him freeze, because it might be…

“Y/N.”

Shit.

He immediately goes after the trail without an ounce of hesitation. The scene laid before him is something that has only haunted him in his nightmares, yet at this very moment, it lies before him as a terrifying reality. 

His blood runs cold, and for the first time in his life, Veritas Ratio is rendered speechless.

Your limp body lies in front of him, in a pool of so much blood that just seeing it sickens him to his stomach. He can’t feel his own body as he falls to his knees, paying no mind to the other researchers around him. No, right now, it was just you and Veritas. Nobody else.

“No,” With trembling hands, he pulls your body close to his own as your blood taints his clothing. Even though he knows you’re too far gone already, he can’t help but try to feel your pulse, because there’s a part of him that just refuses to believe that he’s too late. “No, no, no—“

There was nothing.

It probably hasn’t been beating for a while, and that thought leaves him utterly empty, with a single stray tear rolling down his cheek.

If he were just a little bit faster, maybe he could’ve saved you. If he could’ve just formulated his words correctly so he could convince you not to go on this expedition. If he could’ve just apologized…

If he could’ve just been… a better friend.

All these could haves, yet Veritas didn’t act on any of them.

Pathetic.

Your phone is beside you, and Veritas gingerly picks it up. The screen was still lit, despite it being shattered to oblivion. It was open to the messaging app—specifically his contact.

It was never sent due to poor signal, but you were messaging him before you died. He was your last thought.

“I’m sorry Veritas. I just don’t want you to think I’m weak and incapable.”

“Still, I want you to remember that”

You were the one apologizing to him, even after everything was said and done. He can’t even fathom that.

And weak and incapable, huh. You were anything but that. If anything, Veritas was the weak and incapable one. He was weak for not being able to swallow his pride even if he was the one in the wrong—and he was incapable of simply apologizing to you.

And the last message… What is it supposed to mean? 

What do you want him to remember?

When Veritas was sent to Penacony and matters with the head of the Oak family, Sunday, had been dealt with, he was finally allowed to leave. It was the first mission the guild had assigned him since you left, and his efforts to prevent Aventurine from going on an all-out suicide mission helped Veritas take his thoughts away from you, even if it was just for a moment.

And yet, you always find your way back to haunt him. Not even the Land of Dreams could prevent that.

Still, he had done his part, sorted out his deals in Penacony as a representative sent by the guild, and it was time to go.

It’s been a few months since your death, and Veritas thinks that living without you is like living without the sun. It’s funny how he’s only realized how much you’ve changed his life only after you’ve gone. You lit up his life, both metaphorically and physically—and now, everything feels so dull, and he constantly longs for your presence in the darkness. 

But now you’re gone, and he feels so terribly lost, even now as he does paperwork in his office. Life became way more monotonous after you had left. The quiet is suffocating, because Veritas can only think about the times that the quiet office was filled with your voice instead. 

Even now, in the rare moments that Veritas picks up a book nowadays, he thinks about how much you would have enjoyed it as well.

Paperwork is one of the few things that he finds solace in anymore, as it helps him drown out his thoughts so they don’t end up drifting back to you.

…You.

His eyes land on your sword before he can even do anything about it, and he swallows thickly. Your blade is displayed on his wall, another way for Veritas to show his honor for you. 

The blade you singlehandedly used to defeat all those monsters, and the blade you’ll never be able to wield again.

He tears his eyes away from it before his thoughts can spiral again. He can feel his vision start to blur, and he blinks the tears away before they escape. He wonders how many tears he’s shed for you since you’ve been gone.

Veritas tries and fails to focus on his paperwork once more until he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

He thinks a walk will do him good.

He stands up from his desk and slowly walks over to his office door, wondering who it could be. He rarely gets visitors nowadays, unless it’s something that’s of utmost importance. Everyone else is afraid to talk to him, as Veritas became… colder after your death.

If anyone were to ask why—it’s because when you died, a part of Veritas did too.

He turns the door’s handle, only to see…

You.

You were standing right in front of him, in the same outfit that you were in the day you left for your mission. Except this time, you were alive, and Veritas has no idea what to think.

You’re the first one to break the silence, whispering his name. “Veritas?”

Hearing you say his name feels like he can finally breathe again. “Y/N? Is it really you?”

Before you can even answer his question, he engulfs you in a tight hug, breathing in your scent. Veritas held you like his life depended on it—because at this moment, it felt like it did. He says the words that have been on his mind for the past few months. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry darling. If only I hadn’t-“

You pull back from the hug, putting your pointer finger against his lips as a signal for him to stop talking. Barely even registering the endearing name that he called you, you smile, cupping his cheeks before sighing tenderly. “I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, Veritas.”

He only hugs you tighter, coming to a revelation that only makes the pain in his heart ever worsen. He saw your lifeless body himself, he paid respects to your body at your funeral… and he laid your favorite flowers on top of your gravesite where your body rested, even though those flowers were supposed to be an apology gift. “You’re… not real.”

“I’m still in Penacony, right? This is all a dream.”

You smile, nodding in confirmation. “Nothing truly gets past you, does it? You’re dreaming what you desire the most right now.”

“I promise you that we will meet again, Veritas. it will not be today, but the day will eventually come, and I’ll be waiting for you every step of the way.” You breathe in deeply. “But right now, you need to wake up from this dream, before it's too late.”

He’s not sure if he wants to wake up, though.

“But what if… I just want to stay here with you?”

“We both know it’s not what you really want.” You can see right through him. “If you stay with me in this dream, you’ll be living nothing but a simulated life. I may be here with you, but you’ll never truly fill that hole in your heart, because I am not Y/N. I’m just a creation of your deepest desires, and you know that I’ll never be her. That is not a life worth living.”

“I know she would want you to live your life to the fullest, to truly experience things, to teach your students unforgettable lessons… so they become great people like you.” You pause, looking right into his eyes. They’re filled with pain, sorrow, and the desire to cling on to the past. “And when your time comes eventually, she will be waiting for you. You will apologize once again, because you never got to apologize to her before she died, but she has forgiven you long ago, and it’s all because…”

Despite that, you have to teach him that it’s time to let go. “She wants you to remember that she loves you, Veritas Ratio.”

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

A tear rolls down his cheek at your words, and then another…. and another. “Even if I don’t know how to apologize?”

You let out a watery laugh, nodding your head. “Even if you don’t know how to apologize.”

“Then… I will do as she asks. It is the least I can do to make up for what I’ve done.” He says, and he takes a deep breath before his next words. “Can I… hug you one last time? Even though you aren’t… actually her.”

“Go ahead, Veritas. But I’m afraid that after this, you have to let go.”

You need to let go.

He nods before wrapping his arms around your figure. It was such a vulnerable act, like a man putting the entirety of his heart and soul out for you to take. He breathes in your scent, wanting to take it in once last time before he has to bid you goodbye. You feel a few of his tears staining your clothing, but you pay it no mind. 

How many tears has he shed for you since you’ve been gone? Not enough. He doesn’t feel that it’ll ever be enough.

When he opens his eyes, you’re slowly fading away from him. There’s a melancholic smile on your face, your eyes meeting his—filled with pain, sorrow, a desire to cling onto the past, and yet… a hint of acceptance.

“Still, I want you to remember that… I love you.”

Yes, he remembers. And he’ll remember your words for the rest of his life, until the moment that he leaves this cosmos on his deathbed. He’s just hoping that you’ll wait long enough for him to say it back.

Before you’re about to fade away completely, you lean in one last time and whisper to him…

“It’s time to wake up, Veritas.”

He wakes up from the dream pool with a gasp. The water splashes around him, and a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. 

The rest of his actual Penacony trip went by surprisingly smoothly, and he doesn’t mention the dream that he had to anyone. It was like a secret shared between you and Veritas–and he was going to treasure that secret forever. 

And now, the Charmony Festival has commenced, and the fireworks have begun. As he watches the sparks explode into thousands of dazzling rays of light above, he pulls out his phone to text you. Almost like one final goodbye, because he knows it’s what you would’ve wanted.

“I love you too, Y/N. I will love you my entire lifetime–past beyond the boundaries of eternity, even after all the stars long die out in the cosmos.

I long for the day that we will meet again… because then, I’ll finally be able to tell you this confession in person. For now, I hope you can continue to find the patience to keep waiting for me. 

…Until the stars align, and we’re able to see each other once again.”

He looks up to the endless bursts of blazing rays lighting up the night, mixed with the eternal shine of the cosmos. It was truly a sight to behold. And for a split second, he could feel someone by his side watching the fireworks with him. It warmed his heart, even if it were just for a moment. 

“Aren’t these fireworks beautiful, Veritas?”

“They will never be as enchanting as you, Y/N.”

[sideysvault]

.𖥔˚ NEW SURROUNDINGS.𖥔˚

Cregan Stark x fem!targaryen!reader ₊ requested ₊

Tags. [sfw]; Arranged marriage, ‘cultural’ differences, misogyny, fluff, happy ending, dragonrider, weaponized fasting.

Wc. 0.8k

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Everyone had heard such stories. It was known that unsuspecting, kinder houses produced girls that despite aristocratic breeding, their innocence and ill preparation made them feel totally at sea in the deferential hierarchy of political marriage. 

The Targaryen Princess was nothing more than a child at the horizon of puberty, with something more akin to distaste rather than horror when she first bled. And while she’d been aware of what that meant for a woman, she desperately became aware of the danger this might put her in. There were many tears in those first months and many more to come after that. 

Weight simply dropped off, as well as her white hair. Plagued with the knowledge that outside the Targaryen's protective niche, she was determined to a less glorious fate than she had imagined when she had become a dragon rider.

And then came the preparations. In fact, it was her late cousin’s advice that helped her successfully avoid getting married in its entirety. At least for a few years. The technique was rather simple; If the Princess would get word that her husband to be was ill-mannered, brutish, stubborn or violent, the woman, in order to guarantee compliance, or to avoid the marriage, was to initiate a fast until a change of circumstances arrived. Not as a form of self mutilation, but as a means to stop the fertile blood from running between their legs, This, naturally, would only be successful as long as a male heir wasn’t yet produced, or if the princess isn't yet married.

She had even heard stories that certain houses even encouraged this behavior. All to guarantee that the husband was willing to listen to the whispers of his wife, assuring the will of her lineage.  

This technique, of course, had severe downsides, if taken too far, the body would stop tolerating food, making the wife immobile, dead, or worse; Infertile. 

However, some people denounced the practice entirely. Those who are keen to self-sacrifice for the political and economical greatness of their lineage, who saw conceiving themselves to a life of child bearing as a form of honorous martyrdom. Like her mother. 

But, when her family let her know that she was to be betrothed to Cregan Stark, she knew that all of her efforts were not in vain. His reputation preceded him. Handsome, honorable and just. 

She truly felt a sense of genuine relief. Neither the backwards ways of the Northerners nor their reluctance to respect people from the South could dissipate her enthusiasm. Despite her best efforts, The Reed Keep was never really a home to her.

The Princess, of course, had failed to foresee one important detail. The people of the North felt a genuine aversion towards her dragon, probably one of the few kind, loyal things to have been gifted to her by the Targaryen lineage, it had become somewhat of a family to her. While she was aware of the strong, devastating power Maegor possessed, all her soul saw whenever she interacted with it was all those magnificent flights, all of those years of training, and the rather small, innocent look her dragon had when it was young.

All they saw, nonetheless, was an extraordinary beast covered in scales and spines, the horns that framed the edges of Maegor’s face, running along the back of that skull that had never truly seemed to stop growing. It filled them with pagan horror. 

From common folk, who were rendered immobile by its appalling black profile dancing through the skies, children and adult alike screaming and gasping, to the highest members of the council, whose clenched jaws and tight fists were evident despite their best efforts to hide them. -Although, she supposed their terror had something to do with its rider, a foreign invader - 

Dear Gods, even her husband flinched around it. Of course, he had graciously tried to compartmentalize his fear as soon as he saw the way his wife's eye brighten when she hoped onto the riding chair and looked at the sky above them, how excited she seemed to the prospect of sharing that experience with him, how terribly tender she was with Maegor and the sweet offer she had made to the Maestres to help them map out the territory for their cartography efforts. 

It hadn't taken as much time as he had thought to become pleased with her presence. While Cregan was weary of her at first, he noticed how hard she was trying to accommodate to the region's costumes, how quick her wit was, how curious she was about the world.

Once he discovered how charmed he was with her personality, he was quick to notice how beautiful she was as well. Targaryen features had always seemed too alien to him. But on his wife? He adored the lavender haze in her eyes and the moonlit hair.

The Princess always laughed when she thought about it. She had found warmth and comfort in the coldest corner of the entirety of the Seven Realms.

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Notes. I've been pretty offline for some time but here is the request! Hope everyone likes it. As usual, take care, and tell me if you wanna be added to the Cregan fanfic taglist! -Sidey x

CreganTaglist. @damnedamsy @prose-before-hoes-blog

[voxslays]

4 MORANT — POPPY PLAYTIME

SUMMARY: How the Poppy Playtime characters would react if the player somehow died in the factory after gaining their affections. PAIRINGS: The Doctor x Reader, Doey x Reader (platonic), Poppy x Reader (platonic), Kissy x Reader (platonic), Dogday x reader, Mommy Longlegs x reader.

THE DOCTOR

ꨄ When Harley hears the news of your death, he can’t help but feel the anger rise within his metallic body. He was ‘friends’ with the prototype—and Harley was one of the most powerful toys in the factory! How could this have happened so easily?

ꨄ Harley pushes himself back into his experiments, more motivated than ever. What experiments, you may ask? A solution to bring you back from the dead.

DOEY

ꨄ Angry. Kevin starts to come out as the other two wallow in frustration and self-regret. It doesn’t help that in Doey’s eyes, it’s all Poppy’s fault. She’s just ruined everything, hasn’t she? First safe haven and everyone inside, and now you?

ꨄ After you’re gone Doey more than likely turns into his rabid, monstrous form, consuming anyone (or toy) in his way. He Will avenge your death, with the others help or not.

POPPY

ꨄ Absolutely shocked. You had made it this far and she hadn’t expected you to die so easily, although she no doubt blames herself. Poppy would feel guilty about it. Maybe if she hadn’t pushed you so hard, you wouldn’t have lost focus and met your brutal end.

ꨄ But Poppy is a survivor, and to be a survivor in Playtime co. you have to push your emotions down—which is exactly what she does. She’ll never forget you though, no matter how hard she tries.

KISSY

ꨄ Absolutely heartbroken. To kissy, you were her best friend, and biggest supporter. She might not have been able to talk, but it was like you could just see what was going on behind those big, beady black eyes of hers. You truly saw her.

ꨄ Kissy constantly looks at one of the framed photos she has with you (kind of like what she did with that child in chapter three), never really allowing herself time to heal…

DOGDAY

ꨄ You were one of the strongest people he knew. You found him when he was chained up in the prison, stitched him up, and carried him away from the smiling critters. So when he hears the news of your death, he is more than a little surprised.

ꨄ I’d like to think Dogday grieves quietly. He seems mature enough to realize that crying won’t get him anywhere, but at the same time, he’s doing it alone in safe heaven when nobody is listening.

MOMMY LONGLEGS

ꨄ Incandescently enraged. After the hour of joy, you were one of the only people who didn’t fear her. Actually, she felt valued. You beat her challenges fair and square—which made her admittedly angry, but once you showed her kindness? She vowed to protect you.

ꨄ Once you’re gone, all the ‘beautiful emerald,’ as you had once called it, was gone from her eyes—leaving them charcoal black. Like Doey, she will feast on anyone in her way.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Phainon x Dragon-shifter!Reader

[1] [2]

Life in the palace was… tolerable. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The first few weeks were spent adjusting to the strange, lavish reality of your new circumstances. Gold-trimmed halls, velvets and silks, meals so decadent you almost forgot to glare at Phainon across the table. You weren’t a prisoner, not exactly, but you were watched.

By him.

Phainon made it clear, whether with a teasing smirk or an almost obsessive gaze, that you were his. Not the kingdom’s, not the king’s, his. And he seemed thoroughly entertained by every struggle you put up against it.

So when he invited, no, insisted that you accompany him to the royal gathering that evening, you scoffed.

"I’m not going." You flopped onto the ridiculously soft bed in your chambers, arms crossed. "Why would I want to be in a room full of self-important humans?"

Phainon leaned against the doorframe, watching you with that insufferable knowing look. "Because," he drawled, "it’s a grand event. Important figures, music, fine wine…" His lips curled as he added, "Gold."

Your ear twitched.

He noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed.

"Jewels," he continued, casually inspecting his glove. "Rare artifacts. The kind only royals and the wealthiest nobles possess." He stepped closer, voice dipping. "And if you come with me, you’ll have access to all of it."

A trap. A beautifully spun, shiny trap.

Damn him.

You grumbled but stood anyway. "Fine. But if I get bored, I’m stealing something."

Phainon’s smirk widened. "I’d expect nothing less."

The palace ballroom was a vision of excess. Chandeliers dripped with light, silk banners lined the high walls, and every noble present sparkled—adorned in the very things that made your dragon instincts itch.

You stood beside Phainon, dressed in finer clothes than you’d care to admit looked good on you. Your gaze wandered, catching sight of an elaborate golden goblet, a necklace encrusted with sapphires, the ridiculous amount of wealth these people hoarded.

"You’re staring" Phainon murmured, his breath warm near your ear.

You flicked your tail slightly (hidden, of course, beneath your elegant attire, sometimes there are moments when you lost control of this power). "I’m admiring. There’s a difference."

He chuckled, but before he could say anything else, a noblewoman suddenly stepped between you two, cutting him off.

"Your Highness" she greeted, her eyes bright with something too eager.

Phainon didn’t even blink.

"Move" he said with a smile—not the charming kind, but the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

The noblewoman hesitated, flustered. "Do you—"

"I said move." His tone dropped, sharper this time.

The lady’s confidence faltered instantly. She swallowed, fear creeping into her delicate features before she quickly stepped aside, bowing slightly before scurrying away.

You arched a brow. "Really?"

Phainon turned back to you smoothly. "What? You were waiting for me."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Possessive much?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Yes." No shame, no hesitation.

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he leaned in, voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Now, tell me, little dragon…" He gestured subtly to the vast, glittering hall. "What shall I steal for you?"

You blinked at him.

Then, slowly, a smirk of your own formed.

Maybe this party wasn’t so bad after all.

The party continued in its extravagant splendor, but you had long since grown bored of the shallow conversations and glittering excess. You didn’t deny that the shiny things were a good distraction, but Phainon had been hovering around you like a wolf with its prize all night, scaring off anyone who so much as looked your way.

It was amusing at first—until you realized he was serious.

"Are you actually keeping people away on purpose?" you asked, sipping a wine so rich it made your head buzz pleasantly.

Phainon tilted his head as if contemplating it. "I wouldn’t say keeping away…" He trailed off before smirking. "More like… ensuring they know you’re spoken for."

You nearly choked. "Spoken for?"

His fingers grazed your wrist lightly, just enough to make you aware of the heat behind the touch. "It’s only fair. You took me from my home first, little dragon. Now, I’ve taken you from yours."

You scoffed. "That is not the same thing!"

He merely hummed, tilting his goblet to his lips.

Before you could argue further, one of the royal advisors cleared his throat from a short distance away. Phainon sighed, rubbing his temple as though he already regretted what was coming next.

"It appears my duties are calling" he muttered, sounding utterly unenthusiastic.

You smirked. "Oh no, the burden of royalty" you teased. "How tragic for you."

He cast you a dry look before leaning in slightly, voice dropping. "Behave while I’m gone, won’t you?"

"Depends." You grinned. "What’s in it for me?"

Phainon chuckled, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch before he straightened. "Later, little dragon" he murmured, his voice promising more than just words. Then, with an effortless grace, he strode away toward the cluster of waiting nobles.

You rolled your eyes, exhaling before deciding you needed a break.

The ballroom was getting stuffy, and the suffocating air of human politics wasn’t doing you any favors. So, you slipped out onto the grand balcony, the cool night breeze instantly refreshing.

Leaning against the railing, you stared at the sprawling royal gardens below, the torches casting golden light onto the neatly trimmed hedges. You let yourself breathe, letting go of the lingering heat from Phainon’s infuriatingly charming presence.

"You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself" a voice chimed in, lighthearted but not unkind.

You turned to see a young nobleman standing a short distance away, hands in his coat pockets, looking at you with casual curiosity.

Unlike the others at the party, his expression wasn’t filled with arrogance or ulterior motives—just simple friendliness.

"Not much for royal gatherings?" he asked, stepping closer.

You shrugged, glancing back at the stars. "Not much for being paraded around like a trophy" you admitted.

The nobleman chuckled. "Understandable. These events can be suffocating." He tilted his head. "I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Elias."

You hesitated for only a second before replying. "I know."

Elias blinked. "You… do?"

You smirked. "I make it a habit to know who’s hoarding all the gold in the kingdom."

He laughed, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were just admiring the view."

You leaned an elbow against the railing, giving him a mock-thoughtful look. "Well… you do seem to have an impressive collection of artifacts in your estate."

Elias arched a brow. "Are you implying you’ve been to my estate?"

You grinned, tilting your head slightly. "I’m not implying anything."

Before Elias could reply, a sudden cold presence crept up behind you.

Phainon.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Elias straightened slightly, suddenly looking far more aware of the prince’s looming presence. "Ah—Your Highness."

You sighed, tilting your head back toward Phainon. "That was fast. Did you threaten them all into silence?"

He didn’t take his eyes off Elias. "No. Unfortunately, they kept talking."

Elias cleared his throat. "I was merely keeping your companion entertained, Your Highness."

"How kind of you."

You stared at him. "Are you serious right now?"

Elias wisely took a step back. "Well. It was a pleasure speaking with you" he said smoothly before giving a polite nod and slipping away.

Phainon finally turned his attention to you.

You arched a brow. "Really?"

He smirked. "You looked too comfortable."

"And?"

"And I didn’t like it."

You scoffed. "Possessive much?"

He didn’t even hesitate. "Yes."

You sighed dramatically. "I can’t believe I let you lure me here with gold."

Phainon chuckled, brushing his fingers against your wrist before lifting your hand in his. His lips hovered just above your knuckles, his eyes locked onto yours.

"You walked into the trap willingly, little dragon."

Your heart gave a traitorous thud.

Damn him.

Damn him twice.

You yanked your hand back, turning toward the ballroom with an exaggerated huff. "If I’m stuck here, I expect more jewels."

Phainon’s laughter followed you inside, smooth and pleased. "Oh, don’t worry," he murmured. "You’ll have more than enough."

You weren’t sure whether that was a promise or a threat.

Maybe both.

And maybe… you didn’t mind either way.

-----

The battlefield was chaos.

Steel clashed, arrows darkened the sky, and the scent of blood mingled with the smoke rising from burning siege towers. You soared above it all, your massive wings casting a dark shadow over the fray.

War was ugly, but it was efficient. And you were very, very efficient.

With a single beat of your wings, you sent enemies flying. Your claws tore through siege weapons, your fire turned their defenses to ash. The battlefield trembled beneath your wrath, and you reveled in the destruction.

But your eyes were always watching him.

Phainon was a vision of carnage below. Blade flashing, movements precise, each strike calculated and lethal. He fought like he owned the battlefield, like it was just another ballroom and he was leading a deadly waltz.

He was infuriatingly reckless, of course. You had lost count of how many times you’d had to clear his back, burning down attackers before they could even get close to him.

And then, from your vantage point, you saw it before he did. A shadow moving too fast. A soldier—no, an assassin—emerging from the smoke, blade aimed straight for Phainon’s unguarded side.

You roared, diving down, but you were late.

The blade sank into Phainon’s side, his body jerking slightly from the impact. But instead of collapsing, he turned, his own sword flashing as he slit the attacker’s throat in one clean motion.

He staggered back, blood soaking into his armor.

Something snapped inside you.

With a furious snarl, you unleashed a wave of fire that devoured the remaining enemies in an instant, scorching the earth itself. Any who dared to stand in your way were reduced to nothing but ash.

Your wings flapped hard as you landed beside Phainon, shifting in the same breath. Your hands were on him before he could protest, gripping his arms, scanning him with narrowed eyes.

"You idiot!" you snapped. "Why didn’t you move?!"

He coughed, smirking even now. "You sound concerned" he rasped, clearly amused despite the pain.

"Of course I’m concerned!" You practically growled, your claws twitching with the urge to shake him. "You got stabbed!"

"Mm. Yes, that does appear to have happened."

You groaned, resisting the urge to strangle him. Instead, you yanked his arm over your shoulder, ignoring his wince as you lifted him effortlessly.

"Where are we going?" he asked, though he wasn’t resisting.

"To get you treated before you bleed out, you insufferable human." you gritted out.

He chuckled weakly, letting you carry him. "If I had known this would make you so attentive… I might’ve gotten stabbed sooner."

You almost dropped him. "Shut up."

Even half-conscious, Phainon still managed to smirk. "Make me."

You tightened your grip around him, and for once, he wisely stayed quiet.

----

Phainon woke up to silence.

That alone was unusual.

His body still ached, but the wound had been dressed and treated well, he could tell by the stiffness of the bandages and the faint scent of healing herbs. The last thing he remembered was you dragging him away from the battlefield, cursing his recklessness the entire time.

And now?

Now you were gone.

He sat up quickly, ignoring the dull ache in his side, his gaze sweeping the room. His weapons were still where he left them. His clothes had been neatly folded. Everything was intact.

Everything except you.

Did you—? No.

He refused to believe you had left him.

Had you taken the first opportunity to slip away? Had you waited for him to be weak so you could disappear without a word?

His fingers clenched into the sheets.

If you had left, he would find you.

He owned you. You had chosen to stay—he wouldn’t accept anything else.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to stand. His mind raced, trying to figure out where you could have gone. The palace? The outskirts? Back to your old life?

Not possible.

You wouldn’t leave without a trace.

Damn it.

He had to find you.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of the prince’s spiraling thoughts.

The market was lively, bustling with energy as you browsed through the various stalls. Gold and silk, rare spices, extravagant decorations—everything had to be perfect.

You didn’t normally go out of your way for things like this, but Phainon had survived, and whether you admitted it or not… you cared.

So, you spent the day preparing.

First, you checked on the grand hall, instructing the servants on where to place the banners and the candle-lit centerpieces. Then, you headed to the kitchens, where you spent far too long observing the palace chefs, much to their discomfort.

"That doesn’t look golden enough" you critiqued, frowning at a roasted pheasant.

The head chef looked exasperated. "It’s perfectly cooked—"

"More glaze. Shinier."

"…Shinier?"

"You heard me."

After terrorizing the kitchen staff, you went back to the market, picking out final decorations, taste-testing sweets (because of course you had to), and making sure everything was fit for a royal celebration.

The irony wasn’t lost on you.

You, a dragon, going through all this effort for a human prince.

What had your life become?

Still, you didn’t question it too much.

It was fun, in a way.

What wasn’t fun, however, was how somehow, despite being in the same general area multiple times, you and Phainon never crossed paths.

You passed through the halls minutes after he did. You left the kitchens just before he arrived. You ducked into a stall while he walked by.

Neither of you saw each other.

Which led to two very different outcomes:

You, feeling satisfied with your hard work and looking forward to seeing Phainon’s annoyingly smug reaction.

And him, spiraling into near madness, convinced you had abandoned him.

By the time Phainon returned to his chambers, his mood was dark.

He had searched the palace. The outskirts. The entire damn estate.

You were nowhere.

His fists clenched at his sides.

Then, he stepped into his room—

Candlelight flickered against gold-trimmed banners. The scent of roasted meats and spiced desserts lingered in the air. The table was set with a ridiculous amount of food, all plated to look as extravagant as possible.

And there you were, leaning against the table, arms crossed, looking very pleased with yourself.

"You’re late" you said flatly. "I went through all this trouble, and you almost missed it."

Phainon just stared.

His mind, which had spent the entire day convincing itself that you had left, refused to process this.

"You—" His voice caught, his fingers twitching at his sides. "Where have you been?"

You blinked. "What?"

"All day," he growled. "Where have you been all day?"

You frowned. "Preparing this, obviously."

His jaw clenched. "You-" He exhaled sharply, stepping forward, his body still tense. "Do you have any idea what I thought happened?"

You tilted your head, amused. "Let me guess—you assumed I left?"

You smirked. "And how did that make you feel, Your Highness?"

His grip on his gloves tightened. "Don’t push me."

You chuckled, stepping closer, placing a hand on his chest lightly, right over the wound that had caused all this in the first place. "I didn’t leave."

You leaned in, just enough to whisper, "I wouldn’t leave you that easily." His arms snapped around you, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, barely getting a second to react before he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like he had lost you.

"Don’t do that again."

"What?"

"Don’t disappear on me. I’ll burn this entire kingdom to the ground if you leave."

"Noted."

For once, he didn’t smirk. He just held you.

The feast, the decorations, everything else faded.

All that mattered was this moment.