#last train to limbo will be real

[arabaka]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ miguel x spidey!fem!reader. CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ !!! NO SPOILERS !!!! splashes of angst. unprotected sex. creampie. cervix fucking. WORD COUNT: 1.8K PSD CREDIT!!! MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI !!!!!!!（ ꐦꉺωꉺ)つ @miguelism @pompomegranate come get ya mans !!!!! PART TWO HERE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can still see him here.

It’s not real and it never will be– not again, anyways.

“March 13th.” 

How long are you going to keep doing this? Your jaw tenses. Here we go again.

The argument is a solo act; there’s no one to talk to here but you. So naturally, you run the same trite script until it comes to the same inevitable conclusion: giving in to the self-indulgence.

The bad thing’s already happened. You lost Miguel– well, more like he lost you. You’re the one trapped in this purgatorial vortex. The space that lies between every what if, the border of every possibility.

And it’s so fucking lonely.

So it’s ironic that your multiverse jumping wristband is good for anything but its intended use. It mocks you, its amber projections burning red when you even so much as try to go home. Not to your original timeline– to HQ.

To him.

But you know that will never happen so you make do with what you have: the memories stored on your gadget, the device looking worse for wear with jagged claw marks running down its sides, disappearing into the scarred flesh that lies beneath it. 

He didn’t mean to hurt you. You know that.

You wish you could tell him.

You (metaphorically) furiously fan away that cloud of remembrance. You’re already stuck, no need to dwell on the last time your heart was ripped out. You lie back, resting against nothing but floating amongst everything. Limbo sure is weird.

Arm resting over your stomach, you train your eyes on the happier time playing out from the screen on your wrist. It’s not perfect; the vision cracks, sometimes glitches in reds and greens before going back to normal. It’s getting worse. 

There you go again! We’re trying to have a good time here. 

Right. Right.

Sorry.

Focus.

You take a deep breath, chest rising and falling steadily.

Focus.

You close your eyes and when you reopen them, fix them on the screen that shows you strutting in Miguel’s domain, it’s like you’re there.

It’s like you’re back home.

“You gotta eat, you know.” Tossing a paper bag way up high, it doesn’t surprise you that he catches it with lightning fast reflexes, even with his back turned to you. “And if you don’t, I’ll make ‘em take empanadas off the menu.” 

He’s still. Only sound coming from him is the rustling of the bag. At least there’s that, you think as you approach the floating platform. “Don’t make me come up there!” You holler, though you only get your own echo in return. 

Shit. He’s in a mood.

Throat flexing with a thick swallow, you decide to go up anyways– you sure don’t want to wait for him to come to you. Thing’s slow as hell.  

Webs whipping from your wrist, you fashion a slingshot apparatus to propel you yards into the air. Nothing beats the rush of a flight, even now as you descend into what could be a particularly thorny situation with a particularly grumpy man. 

But he’s your particularly grumpy man. 

“Hey,” Your voice starts softly, “Everything–”

He turns around, stopping you in the middle of what was going to be your magnum opus of pep talks to show he’s got a mouthful of doughy goodness that keeps him from talking. And when he swallows, there’s a damn smirk waiting for you to kiss.

You don’t fall for it, at least not now but god do you want to. But first…

“Asshole!” 

“You just jumped to conclusions.” Another bite of the savory empanada just to tick you off. You’re so cute when you’re annoyed, even if it’s all in good fun. Your cheeks puff up and your nose scrunches when your eyebrows furrow. He’ll kiss you if you won’t.

“Oh, real mature. Hiding behind–” 

In a flash, the empanada goes back in the bag and in red glowing binds gets fastened to the side of his computer mainframe, freeing up his hands to pull you close. A little too roughly, but you melt into his big frame regardless, lips pursing against his and giggling when you can taste meat and spice.

“How romantic.” You mutter and he laughs.

God, his laugh. Nobody heard it too often– nobody but you, that is.

When Miguel was with you, it’s as if you two were in a world of your own. A timeline of your own. Where past transgressions and terrible happenings were nonexistent. Where he could be him, the man he was supposed to be: sweet, charming, and kind. And where you could love him like he deserved.

Is someone else filling that role now? 

Great! You’re thinking too much again. Stop fucking this up!

“June 27th!” You blurt, warped back to reality when your thoughts strayed too far from the projection. 

The picture’s changed now. You’re home, your residence littered with reminders of Miguel. It’s empty, but not for long. The front door slams open and you and Miguel come pouring in, him taking the lead as the two of you blindly navigate the foyer with your lips locked and hands gripping each other for dear life.

Your cheeks in real time burn. Maybe you shouldn’t stay for this memory.

Oh, don’t be such a prude. It’s literally you! The little voice in your head chastises and honestly… You can’t argue with that.

“M-Miguel, I don’t– I don’t have– I’m not on–”

“Shut up.” A tempered hiss is pressed to your lips, thick digits coming to frame your face as he pushes you further into the space you’ve come to share together. “Or I’ll change my mind about filling you up.”

You can’t argue with that.

“Say it.” His growling crests your ears, breath hot and fangs out just moments later when his pelvis is flush against yours, cock buried to the base in your sopping wet pussy. You swear he’ll drip drool on you at this point, the man driven to the brink of his sanity by the way your cunt hugs him so tight. It’s like you want to milk him for all he’s worth. 

Your hands paw helplessly at his chest, all your energy zapped as your eyes roll back under the curtain of fluttering fluffy eyelashes. “F-Fuck Miguel– f-fill me up!” 

“Keep going.” His voice is low, rich and dark.

The fat head of his cock presses up against your sensitive bundle of clitoral nerves, slamming hard when you whimper and cry for him, “Right there, right there!” You start to babble, the words freely flowing from your kiss-bruised lips because your brain is long gone, “F-Fuck me, need your cum– need you, need you, Miguel! Please don’t stop, please!” 

“Yeah? Can’t feel whole without my cock? Need it?” His tone seeped in pride, he loves seeing you unravel for him like this. “I’m givin’ it to you baby, right where you need it. You feel that? Your little pussy crying for me, so fucking wet. Fuck, you’re so good. Good for me.” He’s kissing you now, sloppy and panting into your mouth before his tongue ravishes yours and swallows every moan you give him.

Your legs locked around his waist still bounce, hips raised off the bed by Miguel’s brutish clutch so he can bully more of himself into you, harder and faster. Your lower body limply follows his every move, takes every slam and thrust all the while wet squelches fill the room. Your vision finally coming back, you see his nostrils flare and his eyes glazed over with a beastly kind of lust. It’s enough to make your bones shiver.

You can’t help but let your gaze rest there, even as he fucks you within an inch of your life, always so fervent with his thrusting as he stuffs you full, but you just can’t get over this view: his pectoral muscles flexing when you tighten up around him in just the right way, the way sweat gathers on his brow before trickling down his sharp jawline, and the way his lips stay agape because if he’s not groaning, he’s growling.

“That’s it, mi vida. Doin’ so good. Pussy takin’ me all the way in. Shit– I’m addicted. Might just fuck you raw every time. Want that?” One hand comes to your face, thumb just barely squishing your cheek and making you pout. “Say it.” 

“Y-Yes, yes! Please Miguel!” Tear drops glimmering in the corners of your eyes, you plead for him, “C-Cum inside me, I’m getting close!” Every sense of yours is on fire, everything burning bright for him and only him. Always for him.

And you see a similar inferno explode in his narrowed eyes just then and it’s immediate, the way he unhooks your legs from his waist and bends them aaaalllllll the way back until your knees are violently knocking against the mattress, his lumbering body taking yours in the mating press he so adores.

Because he gets to fill you to the brim. Bump and grind against your cervix until even that soft nodule is his. He’s staking his claim, making you his as the soles of his feet dig deep into the sheets, his toned limbs caging your bouncing body until you’re nothing but a squealing little mess for him to clean up.

His balls slap firmly and roughly against your folds, sticky webs of cum starting and breaking each time he snaps his hips. Your walls tremble around him, gushing out more of your essence every time. You’re just about undone. He can feel it.

But so is he, his already thick cock pulsating with another rush of blood as the coil in his stomach heats up. He puts all his weight into you, onto you the last couple thrusts – he knows you can take it – so he can kiss you. So he can taste you.

“‘M cumming, c-cumming…” Your words are muffled and tired, eyes wheeling back as your orgasm hits you hard and heavy, Miguel following soon after with plenty of cum to fill your pretty pussy up with and an animalistic series of grunts as his cock twitches and throbs inside you. It’s thick and so much, too much so that the opaque matter starts to pool out when his hard shaft finally leaves you, giving your featherlight folds another heaping layer of viscosity.

“‘Tch– it’s comin’ out already.” He huffs, though with a bit of a laugh. “Can’t have that.” So his fingers gather what’s remaining and slip into your cunt before he pops another kiss to your parted lips, nipping just a teeny bit on the bottom half to get you to squeal one last time for him.

And that’s how the video ends. That’s how you finish, having followed along with lithe fingers rubbing your aching clit and one or two at any time plunged and crooked inside you, but it’s not the same. 

It’ll never be the same.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any thoughts on the mystery behind the Veil of Death and the three brothers?

ana-lyz: So... What does it mean to be the Master of Death in HP universe? And like what does being MOD mean specifically for Harry?

Okay, funny thing is I got the first of your asks like an hour after I added to my drafts a post titled "Master of Death", so I was just thinking about it. And then I started answering it and you sent the second ask, so, great minds think alike, I guess.

Long post ahead:

The Veil, Death, and its Master

I'm going to cover what we know from the books, my opinions on it, and some of my evidence-based headcanons, since there is a lot of speculation on my part.

The Afterlife and the Veil

So, I wanna talk a bit about death, as it appears in the Harry Potter books. We know an afterlife exists in the HP world both when Harry dies and when he speaks to Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius dies.

I want to start with the scene in Deathly Hallows in the King's Cross limbo. Specifically these few sections:

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and put them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them. . . . He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement?

(DH, 596)

“Where are we, exactly?” “Well, I was going to ask you that,” said Dumbledore, looking around. “Where would you say that we are?” Until Dumbledore had asked, Harry had not known. Now, however, he found that he had an answer ready to give. “It looks,” he said slowly, “like King’s Cross station. Except a lot cleaner and empty, and there are no trains as far as I can see.” “King’s Cross station!” Dumbledore was chuckling immoderately. “Good gracious, really?” “Well, where do you think we are?” asked Harry, a little defensively. “My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.”

(DH, 601)

“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?” Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright white mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?

(DH, 610)

I don't think this place Harry was in is the Afterlife, or even connected to the Afterlife. I think it is in Harry's head. Harry having complete control over it, actually calling it out as behaving like the Room of Requirement, Dumbledore not knowing where they are until Harry knows where they are, etc. All this doesn't fit with it being a limbo on the way to death and the figure there being the real Dumbledore. Dumbledore, throughout this scene, acts kind of strange, way more helpful and finally says all the right things Harry wants to hear.

Not-Dumbledore himself tells Harry he already knows everything he explains to him:

“Explain,” said Harry. “But you already know,” said Dumbledore. He twiddled his thumbs together

(DH, 597)

So, I truly believe it isn't really happening. That this isn't death and it isn't Dumbledore. throughout the scene, Dumbledore doesn't actually give Harry new information Harry couldn't guess on his own. He's just going over things Harry already knew and creating a nice narrative out of them. At some points, he asks Harry what he thinks, and only starts explaining once Harry knows the answer (or what he wants the answer to be). I think this is Harry's subconscious coping and not actual death.

Additionally, there's the disturbing baby Voldemort thing. Now, the real Voldemort is still alive, so contrary to what Not-Dumbledore says, it isn't actually Tom Riddle:

“Oh yes!” said Dumbledore. “Yes, he destroyed it. Your soul is whole, and completely your own, Harry.” “But then . . . ” Harry glanced over his shoulder to where the small, maimed creature trembled under the chair. “What is that, Professor?” “Something that is beyond either of our help,” said Dumbledore

(DH, 598)

What I believe it is, is the soul in the Horcrux in Harry. Separated from Harry's own soul within his mind. That's the only thing it can be, in my opinion. I don't believe the soul shards in the Horcruxes could pass into an afterlife, or even to limbo. They were created to be bound to life and passing away is against their very nature (unless, maybe, if you throw them through the veil).

Besides all these oddities in the scene, it just doesn't make sense for Dumbledore to be there. Nearly Headless Nick gives some insight about death and the Afterlife:

“He will not come back,” repeated Nick quietly. “He will have . . . gone on.” “What d’you mean, ‘gone on’?” said Harry quickly. “Gone on where? Listen — what happens when you die, anyway? Where do you go? Why doesn’t everyone come back? Why isn’t this place full of ghosts? Why — ?” “I cannot answer,” said Nick. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” said Harry exasperatedly. “Who can answer better than you?” “I was afraid of death,” said Nick. “I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn’t to have . . . Well, that is neither here nor there. . . . In fact, I am neither here nor there. . . .” He gave a small sad chuckle. “I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries —”

(OotP, 861)

From the way Nick speaks, ghosts are caught between life and death, part of them remains among the living while the rest moves on. Ghosts live in limbo, unable to be alive or dead. From his words, it also implies the properly dead, those who chose to move on, stay dead. They stay gone.

If that's the case, how could Dumbledore come to greet Harry in limbo? He's dead, truly gone, and death has no exceptions. There is no reason Dumbledore could speak to Harry in limbo and his parents won't. Once you're dead, you reach the afterlife and there you stay.

So I don't think the white King's Cross in Harry's death vision was connected to the afterlife, nor was it the real Dumbledore there. So, what is the actual afterlife?

Well, we don't really know. But, I can cover what we do know about the nature of death in the HP universe.

From Nick's words, the afterlife is the better option, than becoming a ghost. Nick describes ghosts as imprints left behind, but imprints of what specifically?

I talked about this already when I discussed how to make Horcruxes, but in alchemy, everything is comprised of three things:

Sulfur - soul

Mercury - spirit (that binds the body and the soul)

Salt - body

A ghost doesn't have a body, and we know all that moves on to the afterlife is one's soul. Therefore, it stands to reason ghosts are an imprint of a soul, while the spirit leaves at the moment of death. That's what an Avada Kedavra does, it removes the spirit, the connection between the body and the soul. That's how it kills instantly and without a trace.

So, when someone passes into the afterlife, it's their soul that passes away.

What about the echoes of Harry's parents and Cedric in Voldemort's wand during the duel in the graveyard?

Well, they're dead, they moved on, so it can't be their soul. The figures aren't even described the same way as ghosts or diary Tom, figures we know are made of souls:

and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort’s wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke. . . . It was a head . . . now a chest and arms . . . the torso of Cedric Diggory. the dense shadow of a second head, If ever Harry might have released his wand from shock, it would have been then, but instinct kept him clutching his wand tightly, so that the thread of golden light remained unbroken, even though the thick gray ghost of Cedric Diggory (was it a ghost? it looked so solid) emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort’s wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel . . . and this shade of Cedric stood up, and looked up and down the golden thread of light, and spoke.

(GoF, 665-666)

Their bodies are buried, and Cedric's is just lying there, neither are they physical enough to be bodies. I believe this is their spirit. Remember what I said about the Killing Curse just now, it severs the tie, and as such, it keeps the spirit. So, Harry is speaking to his parents' spirit, the echoes of their lives, not souls.

Now, let's talk about the veil. The veil is one of the most fascinating things introduced in the books, and the way it is introduced is fascinating on its own, but that's for later. The veil is a physical archway into the world of the dead.

The concept of such an entrance exists in multiple mythologies. In Greek mythology, many heroes (Odysseus, Orpheus, Heracles, Theseus, etc.) all travel through the underworld in one way or another, this is why the hero's journey goes through the underworld, it's very common. In Mesopotamian mythology, Gilgamesh and Ishtar both travel to the underworld. The point is, a gateway into the afterlife you can travel through, is a concept humanity has been toying with for millennia.

What's interesting is that, like Thestrals, those who've seen death (Harry, Luna, and Neville) can hear whispers from it. They experience it differently from others who haven't witnessed death (Ron, Hermione, and Ginny) who feel unnerved by it (although, Neville and Luna react differently from Harry, but more on that later). Not much more can be said about it, except that unlike all these gates into the underworld from myths, the veil is meant to be a one-way ticket.

In general, the afterlife in the Wizarding World is a one-way passage. Once you're gone, you're gone. Hence the closest thing to proper necromancy they have is creating inferi, which are soulless since the soul can't be pulled back from the afterlife.

The veil was also there before the Ministry of Magic, which was built around it. My guess is that some ancient wizards made it, and how or why were forgotten over time.

As the Peverell brothers were born around the 1210s and the Ministry of Magic was founded in 1707, it's possible, that the same Peverells from the story have built the veil. I actually think it's quite likely.

Death Himself

The idea of death personified is just as old and prevalent in many myths and cultures as a gateway leading into the afterlife. Whether Death, as a being, exists in the Wizarding World, I'm uncertain, but I don't think it's likely.

God-like spirits like Death feel out of place in the world in a way. Like, having a pantheon of gods feels wrong for the world of Harry Potter. It feels out of place with the established lore and magic. We don't see any evidence of wizarding society having any kind of unique religion in which such beings exist. Death, in the tale, is also described as similar to a dementor, making the idea that the author based Death's appearance on that of a dementor plausible.

That being said, Death's similarity to dementors could be the other way around. As in, the dementors look like death because of their connection to him. And, Death from the Tale doesn't really act like a god. How he behaves and is spoken of in the Tale of the Three Brothers reminds me a lot of a fae-like creature. Like, a powerful being who's a trickster that twists your wishes into something that he can use against you.

However I look at it, I still don't feel a being like this would fit in the world of Harry Potter, it feels wrong to add gods (or fae) in there. We don't see any hint that such beings might exist, which makes me feel they don't. So, I don't really think a personification of Death as appearing in the tale actually exists, but they do have an afterlife, as established above.

The Peverells and the Hallows

So we all know the legend about the three Peverell brothers who cheated death and received his gifts. Dumbledore (the one Harry imagines in his death fever dream) is certain it went down a little differently. That the tale is to explain incredibly powerful magical artifacts made by extraordinary wizards:

“Oh yes, I think so. Whether they met Death on a lonely road . . . I think it more likely that the Peverell brothers were simply gifted, dangerous wizards who succeeded in creating those powerful objects. The story of them being Death’s own Hallows seems to me the sort of legend that might have sprung up around such creations.

(DH, 602)

While it's not really Dumbledore and more Harry's own mind, I agree with him the Peverell brothers were probably no run-of-the-mill wizards, and I agree it's unlikely they've met Death, as I don't believe he exists.

Now, all the Hallows have a sentience to them beyond just any magical artifact. Even the wand is more sentient than any other wand, which are already quite sentient ("the wand chooses the wizard").

The wand of the first brother is a Hallow I already wrote about how it chooses its master. It is a wand intrinsically connected with death, having a core of Thestral hair. (I wonder if a core from a Thestral would agree to work for a wizard who hasn't seen death, but I digress)

This wand is actually the least impressive Hallow, in my opinion. Even though it said to be unbeatable:

Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor

(DH, 352)

Its user is beaten quite often, that's how the wand changes owners, after all. This wand's tendency for even more sentience than other wands is what is particularly unique about it. How it chooses its master repeatedly, and sometimes even decides it prefers another over its current master, something unheard of for any other wand.

The Resurrection Stone has the supposed ability to pull a soul imprint from the afterlife:

“Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered.

(DH, 352)

Something that I just discussed above should be impossible. Once dead and in the afterlife, nothing comes back out. Harry uses it as well for the same purpose and describes them as being similar to Tom from the diary:

They were neither ghost nor truly flesh, he could see that. They resembled most closely the Riddle that had escaped from the diary so long ago, and he had been memory made nearly solid. less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward him, and on each face, there was the same loving smile.

(DH, 589)

Because that's what the stone brings back, echoes of souls, but they aren't what Tom Riddle was in CoS.

“We are part of you,” said Sirius. “Invisible to anyone else.”

(DH, 590)

This line, made me believe the resurrection stone does something different than its name suggests and more similar to the lie Tom in the diary told Harry. They aren't souls, they're memories, echoes from within Harry himself. "Memory made solid"

Magic, in the world of Harry Potter, can't bring back someone who has moved on to the afterlife. It's a one-way ticket, as I've established before, once your soul moves on, that's it (if you try to resurrect someone immediately after they died and their soul hasn't yet moved on it's a different story). So I think, these shades are based on Harry's memories, and not actual souls brought back. It'll make more sense magically since his thoughts and memories are there, but the souls have gone on.

It also makes the tale of the second brother make more sense. He suffered because it wasn't really his wife that came back, but a shade based on his own memory. The tale said that she suffered, but I think it was Cadmus who suffered, not truly having her back. However, depending on how she died, her suffering might've been his memories of her that the stone resurrected, or the tale made it all up just like it made up Death.

The stone is just as picky about its master as the wand. It does not seem to have worked for anyone other than Cadmus Peverell and Harry himself. We don't hear of any Gaunts who used the stone, nor do we hear from Dumbledore he succeded in using it (I don't think it's actually Dumbledore in the conversation in King's Cross as I mentioned above). Regardless, I think the real Dumbledore probably did try to use it, and I will hazard a guess he failed. Since the stone didn't choose him.

The Cloak is unique in many ways. Lasting centuries, way longer than any invisibility cloak can, passing from parent to child for generations. It also does a better job of concealing you than another invisibility cloak, if, it still has its limits:

“...We are talking about a cloak that really and truly renders the wearer completely invisible, and endures eternally, giving constant and impenetrable concealment, no matter what spells are cast at it. How many cloaks have you ever seen like that, Miss Granger?”

(DH, 354)

The cloak is similar to the other Hallows in how picky it is regarding its master. The cloak wouldn't belong to anyone who just possesses it, it's not enough. It has to be passed willingly on the owner's deathbed, as they greet death as an old friend. It means that in the books, no one but Harry could be its owner.

All artifacts are powerful, but they aren't capable of anything that breaks the laws of nature (as the stone doesn't really resurrect), they are also sentient and picky, but it isn't something beyond the capacity of wizards. Why, we know of four wizards who made three sentient magical artifacts already — The Hogwarts founders.

The four founders enchanted the sorting hat together, but more relevant to the discussion of the Hallows are the Book of Admittance and the Quill of Acceptance.

At the precise moment that a child first exhibits signs of magic, the Quill, which is believed to have been taken from an Augurey, floats up out of its inkpot and attempts to inscribe the name of that child upon the pages of the Book (Augurey feathers are known to repel ink and the inkpot is empty; nobody has ever managed to analyse precisely what the silvery fluid flowing from the enchanted Quill is). Those few who have observed the process (several headmasters and headmistresses have enjoyed spending quiet hours in the Book and Quill’s tower, hoping to catch them in action) agree that the Quill might be judged more lenient than the Book. A mere whiff of magic suffices for the Quill. The Book, however, will often snap shut, refusing to be written upon until it receives sufficiently dramatic evidence of magical ability.

(from pottermore)

The idea of multiple sentient, powerful magical artifacts that need to agree is something wizards are capable of. And that, I think, is the secret to becoming the Master of Death — having all 3 Hallows pick you. Just like the book and quill need to agree a student should be admitted to Hogwarts.

Master of Death

Or more specifically what does that actually mean and why I think even if someone retrieved all 3 Hallows they wouldn't have become the Master of Death if their name isn't Harry James Potter.

This is definitely more in the headcanon territory, but the first scene that really made me think about it is the one in the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. Because I think Harry and death always had a weird connection, it might've been around before the failed killing curse, and it was definitely around before Harry mastered all 3 Hallows.

So, why do I think Harry was always bound to be the Master of Death, and even if Dumbledore or Voldemort had all the Hallows it wouldn't have helped them?

There, are a few things that led me to this conclusion.

First, as I mentioned above, the cloak can not belong to anyone other than Harry in the books. It means that no one but Harry could master all of the Deathly Hallows, regardless of what they did.

Second, This first scene in the Death Chamber with the veil. I'll copy parts of it below and ask you to note, as you read, that Harry, Neville, and Luna are the only three who can see Thestrals and therefore should react more to the veil:

“Who’s there?” said Harry, jumping down onto the bench below. There was no answering voice, but the veil continued to flutter and sway. “Careful!” whispered Hermione. ... He had the strangest feeling that there was someone standing right behind the veil on the other side of the archway. ... “Let’s go,” called Hermione from halfway up the stone steps. “This isn’t right, Harry, come on, let’s go. . . .” She sounded scared, much more scared than she had in the room where the brains swam, yet Harry thought the archway had a kind of beauty about it, old though it was. The gently rippling veil intrigued him; he felt a very strong inclination to climb up on the dais and walk through it. “Harry, let’s go, okay?” said Hermione more forcefully. “Okay,” he said, but he did not move. He had just heard something. There were faint whispering, murmuring noises coming from the other side of the veil. “What are you saying?” he said very loudly, so that the words echoed all around the surrounding stone benches. “Nobody’s talking, Harry!” said Hermione, now moving over to him. “Someone’s whispering behind there,” he said, moving out of her reach and continuing to frown at the veil. “Is that you, Ron?” “I’m here, mate,” said Ron, appearing around the side of the archway. “Can’t anyone else hear it?” Harry demanded, for the whispering and murmuring was becoming louder; without really meaning to put it there, he found his foot was on the dais. “I can hear them too,” breathed Luna, joining them around the side of the archway and gazing at the swaying veil. “There are people in there!” .... “Sirius,” Harry repeated, still gazing, mesmerized, at the continuously swaying veil. “Yeah . . .” ... On the other side, Ginny and Neville were staring, apparently entranced, at the veil too.

(OotP, 773-775)

The interesting to note:

Luna, who can see Thestrals, also hears the whispering. I assume Neville does too.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny are mesmerized but unnerved by the veil. Ron and Hermione seem to fight this memorization in their fear for Harry as he nears the veil.

Harry is the only one who is drawn to the veil He is the only one that moved, the only one whose feet take him against his will to the dias with the veil.

Harry thinks of it as oddly beautiful.

He has an urge to pass through that no one else does. All of them are frozen in place.

Harry is so affected he needs to be reminded twice that he's there to save Sirius before he can draw himself away from the veil.

Third, later in the book, after Sirius fell through the veil, there's this part:

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Sirius must be just behind the curtain, he, Harry, would pull him back out again. . . . But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Harry around the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry —” “Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!” “It’s too late, Harry —” “We can still reach him —” Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Lupin would not let go. . . . “There’s nothing you can do, Harry . . . nothing. . . . He’s gone.”

(OotP, 806)

Harry's instinct to go through the veil to get Sirius out is so odd. The way he thinks that he himself can pull him out, not anyone else, but he... I don't know, but, this scene is interesting. It almost makes me feel Harry could pull Sirius back out. He defied death already once and will defy it again in the 7th book, so why not? Why wouldn't he be able to pull someone back from beyond the veil if they fell through just now (the timing is relevant, I don't think Hary could pull, say, his parents out).

My headcanon is that in that very moment if Lupin let Harry pull Sirius out, it would've worked. Caused a pandemonium about the fact Harry can apparently resurrect the dead (even if it's not really what he did), but that it would've worked. (I actually really want to write a fic like this)

Fourth, throughout the 7th book, once Harry finds out about the Hallows, he can't let the thought go. He knows his cloak is one, he is convinced the stone is in the snitch Dumbledore left him, way before he opened it. He just has a sense about it, and a fixation on it that's almost instinct:

Dumbledore had left the sign of the Hallows for Hermione to decipher, and he had also, Harry remained convinced of it, left the Resurrection Stone hidden in the golden Snitch. Neither can live while the other survives. . . master of Death. . . Why didn’t Ron and Hermione understand? “‘The last enemy shall be destroyed is death,”’ Harry quoted calmly

(DH, 374-375)

So, these are my reasons why I believe Harry is the only character in the books that could or would be the MOD. It's just that he always was, in a way. The Hallows already chose him before he ever held any of them.

But what does it mean to be the Master of Death?

“Well, of course not,” said Xenophilius, maddeningly smug. “That is a children’s tale, told to amuse rather than to instruct. Those of us who understand these matters, however, recognize that the ancient story refers to three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death.” ... “When you say ‘master of Death’—” said Ron. “Master,” said Xenophilius, waving an airy hand. “Conqueror. Vanquisher. Whichever term you prefer.”

(DH, 353)

We don't really get much besides this. Along with what's written on James and Lily's grave:

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

(DH, 283)

Harry believes all phrases, along with the prophecy are connected and lead him to believe he should become the Master of Death:

Three objects, or Hallows, which, if united, will make the possessor master of Death. . . Master. . . Conqueror. . . Vanquisher. . . The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. . . . And he saw himself, possessor of the Hallows, facing Voldemort, whose Horcruxes were no match. . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . Was this the answer?

(DH, 369-370)

So what can the Master of Death do? Death isn't a personified deity, what is defeating or contouring death mean? Does it mean immortality?

I don't know if I'll say full immortality, I think the Master of Death can die the same way Ignotus Peverell did. I think Ignotus Peverell was the first Master of Death, in a way, he at least represented the concept:

And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life

(DH, 352)

He was death's equal, he could escape it and live a fulfilling life, before choosing to meet Death on his own terms. I think that's what it means, that Death won't find Harry until he is ready to move on, and when he finally chooses to move on, Death would greet him with open arms.

The crux of it is the choice. That death can't touch you until you choose to allow it. And those who become Masters of Death, would always eventually choose to greet death, as these are the type of people the 3 Hallows would choose. It's all about choices.

(For the record, yes, I think there could be more than one MOD, I think Ignotus was until his death, and then in the books, Harry is)

And considering how much emphasis is put on choices and intentions in the magic of this world, it seems only right to be so relevant here too.

Like with the Mirror or Erised, which only let someone who wanted to have the Philosopher's Stone but not use it, have it; the Hallows won't choose a master who wouldn't, eventually, be willing to accept death. Because mastering death, isn't only not dying, it's understanding it, and accepting it. Both the deaths of others and eventually your own.

Also, as I mentioned above, I headcanon that Harry could pull Sirius out the moment he fell in through the veil. I don't think anyone but Harry could. I believe, as a Master of Death, Harry is the only wizard (well, being) that can go into the afterlife, walk past the veil, and come back out. A Master of Death is the only one who the afterlife isn't a one-way ticket for.

(Although, I think it's possible that if you wear the invisibility cloak you might be able to pass into the veil and come out even without being the MOD, but, I wouldn't bet on it)

Summary of my thoughts

The afterlife exists in the Wizarding World and nothing that passes beyond the veil can return. It's a one-way ticket.

The scene in Deathly Hallows with Dumbledore in King's Cross station limbo didn't actually happen.

Death, as a deity of sorts most likely doesn't exist.

The Peverell brothers were powerful wizards who made the Deathly Hallows and perhaps the veil too.

The Resurrection stone can't bring a soul back from beyond the veil so it does the next best thing — reviving an illusion of a memory.

All 3 Deathly Hallows are very sentient magical artifacts like the sorting hat. Each of them is very picky when choosing its own master.

When all 3 Hallows choose the same master, this person is the Master of Death.

Being the Master of Death means the MOD won't die until the time of their choice. But the MOD will always choose to die eventually because that's the kind of person the Hallows would pick.

There can, over time, be more than one MOD (not at the same time though). And it's possible Ignotus Peverell was one, in a way.

The MOD might be the only person who can go into the veil and come back out.

The invisibility cloak might also allow you to make a trip into the veil and then back out.

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 8 - My Takeaways + Final Thoughts

Man, it still really hasn't hit me that the series is officially over. What a ride we were on for the past two months, and I can't wait to see what's next for everyone involved in this production. In terms of this last post, I think I'm just going to let my train of thought ride out without giving too much focus on the meta within the series, but focusing more on the themes and morals we learned from this series.

Maladaptive Daydreaming: Tyme's Wake Up Call

According to Jes and Bible's thoughts leading up to the final release of the episode, both of then alluded that this episode would wrap up most loose ends in each character and their challenges leading up to each of their own conclusions. What I found very significant in Tyme's NDE (which I highlighted my own interpretation of TymeGreat's respective timelines in my episode 6 takeaways), is this warmth and comfort we were able to visually experience in majority of his interactions and projected scenarios going on in his own head. Although he had moments of awareness in the limbo he's experiencing from the standard visual representation of the 4 minutes of consciousness through the clocks/watches, it seemed like Tyme's deluded life was more straightforward and not prone to time jumps like Great was experiencing, possibly due to Tyme walking down the path by not opening his mother's diary.

In comparison to Great's NDE, there weren't as many violent redirects or jumps by making a poor decision, seemingly showing us that Tyme is making better decisions and achieving their respective results, majority of them sharing the same values of communication, intentionality, optimism, and a natural desire for love and adoration. For someone who grew up with no ties to his parents and only having his grandmother become the primary person to express love and affection for (excluding Nutcha since they ended their relationship on good terms and remain connected through their professionalism and a true desire for them to achieve better outcomes on their own paths), Great becomes evidently another person he carries a a deep and meaningful connection with outside of his family and Den.

In comparison to the person he is in the actual timeline, this Tyme is soft, understanding, high achieving and personal to those around him, naturally translating to a soft and tender love and desire he has for Great. We see this by the natural warm lighting in comparison to the more dim and gritty lighting in the previous episodes when we're observing Great and Tyme's actual timelines. The juxtaposition between the person his subconscious wishes to be versus the person he became from a crossroad as simple and out of the blue as discovering the diary, the characteristics are drastically different. The real Tyme is impersonal, quick to judgment, conniving, which leads him to his demise after endangering the life of Nan by involving her in his scheme, to sacrificing Great's reputation in order to harm his family, which were not the original people who drove his parents to their death and were mistakenly targeted because he misinterpreted the details left behind in his mother's diary. This hate driven act ultimately kills his grandmother as well, the only person he truly wishes to keep out of danger and harm's way.

The moment of realization when he hears Den's voice making attempts to resurrect Tyme was incredibly heart wrenching for me as someone who (although it was not even close to being as violent as what Den went through in that moment of crisis) experienced that pain of a loved one withering away right in front of your eyes at the hands of death. The small detail of Den relaying his research to Tyme after he expressed his guilt for (indirectly/directly) contributing to the Great's critical state seemingly remained in the back of Tyme's mind, but as most people would, his emotions overcome his ability to rationalize the next steps to take while he's basking in his purgatory disgusted as paradise. I know many people were off put by the potential (depending on how deeply you'd want to consider the logistics of the themes in this series) plot hole where Tyme is able to transcend and awaken Great from his 4 minutes as we didn't physically see Great awaken from his comatose state. Personally, it doesn't bother me since I had really analyzed this series from more of its psychological thriller elements rather than fixating on the sci fi alone: I interpreted this moment where the reality of fear in regret kicks in for Tyme and that the inevitable of death is nearing, Den becoming the voice of reason and empowering Tyme to fight for his life.

However along with his own battle, his desire for Great to escape the hands of death is just as strong, especially when you consider all that he knows about the truth behind the death of his parents and the role Great played in the grand scheme of things. For all we know, the only person who knows about Great's involvement in Dome's death at this point in the story is Tonkla, Title and his father who tries to wipe the evidence from the dashcam recording. For all we know: Great became someone who was targeted due to his relations with his family and was harmed due to his involvement with helping Tyme escape after Nan's death at the hands of his father's people, being shot later that same evening without any idea of who was responsible. For all Tyme knows: if Great's family was more than willing to take the lives of his parents, Nan and her friend, as well as countless other families involved in their crimes, would it really be out of the question if Great were to be targeted by his own? Just as Great were willing to show up in attempts to save Tyme from his own demise, Tyme shortly realizes he is more than willing to do the same, even if that means sacrificing the outcome of saving his own life in the process.

The Tale of Two Lovers: Korn's Tragedy

If y'all read my episode 4 and 5 takeaways, I talked in depth which is truly an understatement about Korn as a character within this series and honestly from an overall view: he became one of my favorite interpretations amongst all the morally gray characters within this series. I think inherently, it comes from my understanding in Korn as an individual and how in a matter of nature versus nurture, the nature of his life easily consumed him and forbid his nature to take center stage.

In many of the details about Korn's personality and how his unbringing played a significant role in his downfall, we're revealed many circumstances that contributed to his spiral. Given that the earliest flashback we were able to see on screen was of TymeGreat as children, I found it interesting how we did not see Korn at all, reminding me about the detail that Great and his mother grew up separately from the main household as the mistress with her son (I briefly discuss this in my episode 5 takeaways). There was already a barrier between the two sons, and I'm sure this division only grew further apart once Korn's mother commits suicide and Great's mother is taken in as the new wife and face of the family. Judging from how Korn maintained this level of emotional distance between him and his loved ones, he begins to take on much of the labor his father expected of him as the heir to the family company: which included becoming the head of the "investment" division, appeasing the shareholders and other powerful key players involved in the scheme, and ultimately sacrificing his only outlet of happiness and grounds to a more desirable reality which was Tonkla and his relationship with him.

In my previous takeaways, my impressions of Korn were rather hypercritical and I'm sure for some, coming across as "anti Korn" LOL, however, the way I view Korn as a person is like that one Japanese traditional practice of kintsugi–the repairing of pottery and its cracks and imperfections with precious metals, serving as a reminder of viewing one's past with beauty rather than disgust. Korn is definitely far from perfect, we witnessed this all throughout the entire series leading up to the final episode. However, out of all the characters: Korn's willingness and quick to action when it came to protecting the person who mattered most to him gave me a slight change of heart towards him, especially when I was jumping fences about whether or not Korn was truly in love with Tonkla or was using Tonkla for accessibility to an immediate power dynamic given that as time went on and more damage was done to the company, it felt as though Korn's power was fading and seconds away from escaping his grasp the moment he was given it.

I still feel like many of the fucked up things Korn did in terms of his absence, his anger, his impulsivity, his entitlement to power and strength: I truly believe this is a case of "a person capable of doing bad things" than simply being a "bad" person. This becomes most evident when Korn reunites with Tonkla, the one person who truly is the love of his life and he is willing to do anything to protect him and help make his escape. This sentiment doesn't change the moment Tonkla confesses to harming Korn's own brother, which that exchange between the two while Win holds them at gunpoint was honestly a different level of devastation and distraught that I felt when watching TymeGreat's ending unfold.

Not only are you dealing with ushering your family from being discovered by the authorities, coordinating the disappearance of any physical footprint of the "investment" division, your brother in critical condition in the hospital, your boyfriend's face plastered all over the news after escaping arrest for murder, who confesses himself that he not only cheated on him while dealing with the grieving of his younger brother, but he was also responsible for the same injury your own younger brother is enduring because he was involved with the death of your boyfriend's younger brother. I don't know about y'all per se: but Bas did such an amazing job depicting the level of distraught and complex blends (only naming a few in this instance) of grievance, betrayal, defeat, and overall sadness with a hint of madness that the only thing really able to describe the headspace is he currently occupying is the flames from the man made fire by the homeless in the area. To simply put it in a few words for the conclusion of KornKla's story: mistakes, melancholy, and madness.

Continuity vs Stagnation: The Duty of Accountability

I think we all knew from this finale that we shouldn't anticipate many rainbows and butterflies: there were many feuds and many losses throughout this journey. If we had to sit and name a few of our losses in the span of eight episodes: Manee, Dome, Nan, Title, Tonkla, Korn, Grandma, etc (which doesn't even account for people like Tyme's parents, the investor killed by Warit's people, Manee's son, Nan's friend, etc), I think the most powerful moral of this series is grief and loss. Not simply the experience of grief and loss: but what's expected of us once we accept grief and loss as a part of the human experience.

Honestly, I was shocked to see Great and Tyme reuniting as quickly as they did while paying respects to the loved ones they lose along the way, but it brought me a lot of comfort and relief. In this moment, Great and Tyme become individuals who had a taste of what death has waiting for all of us, an experience one cannot easily shake off, majority probably never do. However, with their own volition and ability to seek out forgiveness for not only each other, but for themselves, I think what's most important is intentionality: the true dividend between individuals like Korn and Tyme versus those like Title and Chanin. Those who have a desire for change and willingness to stretch themselves thin for those they love, versus those who have little to no remorse for their sins, which leads them to having to accept the consequences of their own actions.

I don't think it's out of the question that Great becomes a more morally righteous person, even becoming someone who will choose his morals over the protection of his corrupted family members, something that we witnessed was of hesitation when confronted by Tyme in Great's NDE timeline. After witnessing and enduring the trials and tribulations of his own life, the sacrifices, the lengths of harm and manipulation, the physical experience of bodily pain and suffering, the psychological torture of grappling between what he could have become versus who he became, the physical loss of his older brother and potential brother-in-law, the emotional loss of his own parents: anyone with a strong mind and strong heart has the ability to change the trajectory of their own lives. We are the creators of them after all.

As for Tyme grappling with his own ending: I think it was pretty cool to witness both him and Great having these candid conversations about their very real challenges post NDE. "What would you do?" becomes a question all of us ask ourselves every single day: however, many of us lack the confidence, the motivation, the desire, the goal, whatever it may be that holds us back from taking on whatever it is that life throws at us.

The scene between Tyme and Warit was very powerful to me: not only from the physical condition Warit is enduring from Korn revealing the culprit of the earlier investor's death to the right individual, the literal sounds of the monitor vocalizing the increase of his heart rate at the sight and realization of Tyme in his presence playing angel or devil, life or death, savior or undertaker, the stripping of his power and resource and the sinking in of becoming the powerless individual that was once like Tyme and his own family in his eyes. Witnessing Fasai arriving and mourning for the condition of her father alongside Tyme, it made me wonder if Tyme was facing his own moral dilemma of either avenging his family right then and there, or to let the universe take the reins. It makes me wonder if who he saw in Fasai was himself to his own family and Great, Nan to her friend, all the other individuals who lose their loved ones at the hands of corruption and evil. However, seeing that last cut of the disconnected equipment felt appropriate to Tyme's character in that specific moment: that he has elevated beyond his extremities and cutthroat approaches, but still having the moral obligation to avenge the lives of his family members that were stolen from this singular man.

Concluding Thoughts

If you have been keeping up with my weekly (that's a generous way of putting it but it's ok caus ya girl got ADHD fr but got done, right?) updates on this series, I would like to express my utmost gratitude and appreciation, especially to those who I became mutuals with or have the opportunity to converse alongside you during the release of the airing episodes. I have a genuine passion for things like writing and discussion, along with creating content that gives all of us gentle reminders that the amount of dedication, craft, attention to detail, and pure passion for such productions is loved and respected by so many. I didn't think that so many series this year was going to become such a hyperfixation for me, and honestly, I'm so glad to be a part of it and contribute to the discussion and craze that is all deserving.

To think that since the conclusion of KP and iykyk, it made me so happy to finally see the light of day for Bible to have his moment that we've all been anticipating. Knowing how many iterations, changes, back and forth, waiting games, and other challenges that came our way, I'm very pleased with how the production came out and all who had a hand in its existence. To be introduced to new faces like Jes, to be reacquainted to familiar ones like Job and Bas, to recognizing rising talent such as Fuaiz and Jjay, to becoming invested in the overall message and the goals in mind for those involved with the production of 4MINUTES, I hope this series and the success (and continuing) success of this series will give everyone a chance to bring new ideas to the table, to come together without fear of breaking the formula that is slowly becoming more monotonous due to the intimidation that the fruits of their labor will have little to no return, I think we're starting to return back to our roots as creatives: the power of our own artistic voice and allowing those passions and raw desires to overpower the capital and financial gains that run the industry right now. I can't wait to see more to come, and I hope y'all will continue to support everyone (as least here on tumblr) that will push out more content from 4MINUTES cast, or even other current productions that deserve all the love and praise.

Thank you again and my prediction for myself is the next upcoming hyperfixation will be The Heart Killers or Goddess Bless You from Death...I'm just desperate for FirstKhao and MichaelTopten please don't mind me. I'm also looking forward to GMMTV's 2025 Lineup but we shall see hehehe.

Lots of XOXOXO! :D

[sunlightmurdock]

Blow by Blow | 0.7 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s washed up before his career has even really begun. He doesn’t want to fill his father’s shoes and he doesn’t want someone else to either. Stuck in limbo, living the same way he always has, the opportunity to step up wanders through the door of his gym in a mini dress and heels that are a size too big. Boxing au.

Warnings: unspecified age gap, violence, probs boxing inaccuracies somewhere along the line, blood and injuries throughout the fic but will be specified in the warnings of the chapter. Smut and other 18+ content, minors dni

…

“If you don’t think that I’m good enough to do it, Bradley, then just say—“

“I don’t think you’re good enough to do it.” He answers back, deadpan. Your face falls instantly. He sits forwards and leans his elbows on his knees, “I’m not even sure you know how a real boxing match works, Bambi.”

Maybe it was a little harsh, but he’s right. He’s not going to pretend that you’re ready for a fight and watch you get your ass kicked. It’s nice that everyone around here is so nice to you, but as far as he’s concerned, someone should probably be a little realistic too.

It’s been a week since that argument in your apartment. You’ve been avoiding him since then. You’ve also been training like you’re Rocky Balboa — Nat’s stayed late at the gym every night this week to help you. Everyone’s on your side about this, telling you that you’ve got it and that you’re going to do great.

Rooster had been annoyed about it at first — you thinking that you know better than him. Walking around here in your cute gym sets, grinning with Javy and Mickey as they work through speed bag relays with you. Sitting in Mav’s office, blowing his mind with every idea you have. Yeah, everyone has noticed that Rooster’s been a little bit tense this week.

Bob winces, closing his eyes and pursing his lips. At his side, Rooster rants about the women’s locker room not being cleaned again. Another complaint, another canceled subscription.

“I cleaned it last night like the rota said, it’s not my fault it got dirty during the day! — Almost all of our staff are guys.” Bob complains, adjusting the cap on his head and then pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The women’s locker room is usually just cleaned after hours, since the guys can’t go in there during the day.

The duty falls on Nat if there’s something during the day.

Rooster pushes away from the counter and rounds the corner into the gym. Natasha’s in the middle of the ring, gloves on her hands, her head thrown back in laughter. You’re leaning into her, doubled over, laughing your ass off. Your inside jokes are only growing, and Natasha’s coming out for drinks with you and your friends tonight — the pair of you are just getting closer and closer.

“Hey, Nat!” Rooster barks, face stern and thick arms folded over his chest.

Your laughter fades and Natasha groans as she turns and leans on the ropes, raising her eyebrows expectantly at him. It’s unclear as to whether Rooster’s upset that his spot as her best friend has been taken by someone else, or if he’s just in the mood to be an asshole today. It’s a little bit of both.

“You feel like doing what we pay you to do today, or do you wanna keep fucking around up there?”

You follow Natasha down from the ring, biting the Velcro around the gloves and pulling them off of your hands. Acutely aware that this is all your fault. Taking time away from the work she should be doing. You have work that you should probably do too.

Natasha squints as she walks over to her lifelong best friend, standing before him and looking up, deadly serious. “I’m going to let that go because I know you’re freaking out about this fight with Nico, but if you talk to me like that again, I’m going to treat your balls like a heavy bag.”

A quick glance over the top of his friend’s head and Rooster finds you staring at the two of them, lips quirked, having just heard everything.

“Sorry.” He mumbles dejectedly. Nat nods, patting his shoulder as she walks past him. As she walks further away, it’s just the two of you. You, staring at him, him staring back at you. Each of you waiting for the other to speak first. Neither of you do.

You look down sheepishly and grab your bag from beside the ring, turning and heading for Mav’s office. Mav lets you do your work in there on the days he isn’t in. He seems proud of your plans for this place. There’s a charity fight this weekend that Payback, Phoenix and Hangman are going to participate in — you’ve organized for a couple of small time journalists from local papers to come and interview them. Getting their names out there will help get people in the door.

Even the work that you’ve done so far has picked up business a little. You’re getting a lot of engagement, Bob said there has been tonnes of enquiries, but only a couple of sign-ups so far. Progress is progress.

You finish off your afternoon in the office, Tank and Bob join you for a little while, Fanboy after that while he’s on his fifteen minute break. After five, Jake kicks you out of the seat behind the desk so that he can sort through the expenses for the week, so you sit opposite the desk and finish up your edits to the website.

“Which profile picture do you think would be best? — For the instagram and twitter accounts.” You spin your laptop around on your lap and flick through three icons. Vaguely similar but still noticeably different.

He frowns, “Kid, none of those are of me.”

Your brows scrunch slightly as you glance back down at them. “Yeah… It’s Mav, back in his glory days. I think he’d like it.”

“I think that we’d do better if I was the face of Bradshaw’s.” He winks at you across the desk, but you know that he’s only half joking. You’ve noticed the way his eyes linger on the mirror when he’s with a client, silently checking himself out. It’s amusing and almost inspiring, in an odd way, the confidence he has built for himself.

“Shouldn’t it be Rooster?” You ask, also half-playfully.

Jake scoffs at the idea. “Then they come in looking for the guy in the picture and there’s a fifty percent chance he decides to be a dick, and we lost a customer. I vote myself for the profile picture. I can send you some options.”

And he does. You roll your eyes amusedly as your phone pings with pictures whilst you’re making yourself dinner that evening. Finishing up with instead promoting the charity fight a little, figuring out the placement of some flyers that you’re going to make the guys help you hand out, you abandon work late that night. But it doesn’t feel much like a job anyway.

TV, a bath, and then you’re curled up in bed with your laptop in front of you.

You wince as the grown man spins, his eyes roll back and he falls to the canvas. Video after video, clips that Javy has sent you, the best of the best, getting clocked in the jaw and tumbling down, one by one. If this was supposed to be encouraging, it’s not — all that it proves is that you can be as great at the sport as these guys are, and still get your face broken.

Tank stirs, stretching out along the bottom of the bed, nuzzling his head against where your feet rest under the duvet. Instinctively, you lower the sound. Your room, lit up by the LED illumination of the laptop screen and the new, soft lights tangled around the metal frame of this rickety, old bed.

It’s never quiet around here, but you’re growing used to the backfiring cars, screeching tires and the drunken arguments that happen in the alley behind the gym. It’s quiet enough on this evening. Quiet enough that you hear the shoes on the steps outside before there’s a key fumbling in the lock to your apartment, heavy boots on the metal framed stairs, stumbling and uneaven sounding.

“Stay here, baby.” You murmur softly, smoothing your fingers over Tank’s ears. He lifts his head at the noise, blinking tiredly as he considers getting up to investigate. You kiss his nose and tell him to wait.

Rooster stretches his sore neck from side to side as he shuts the door and locks it behind him, flicking on the kitchen light, kicking his boots off. He does it all so naturally, like he lives here. It’s hard to fall out of the habit, this has been his second home since he got a key when he was fourteen. This place is within walking distance of the downtown bars, whereas his actual apartment is further, through sketchier neighborhoods that Rooster is not welcome in.

“What are you doing?”

It’s all unintentional to a certain degree, sometimes it really does slip his mind that you’ve moved in up here. When he turns, finding new soft furnishings, throw pillows and pictures on the walls, new curtains hung on the windows, it’s all there in the front of his mind again. But, then his gaze, as blurry as it might be, lands on you. Standing before him in an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, he remembers that maybe coming here wasn’t an accident at all.

“Mm, sorry, Bambi,” His ‘s’ sounds slur as he plants his palm on the counter, feet lagging, making him stumble. He blinks slowly and turns his head towards you, lips toying at a soft smile, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Your brows scrunch disapprovingly, watching the way his eyes trail, the way that his head tilts slightly to the left as he looks you over and then squints to steady his vision. You can practically see the cogs in his head turning, he might as well be thinking out loud.

“You didn’t,” You answer. There’s a slight bite to your tone, annoyance and disapproval all in one. Even as drunk as he is, he gets the picture, he just has no intention of apologising. “But what’s going on? — What are you doing here?”

Like you don’t already know. Still, Rooster plays along, dancing around the question just like you are. His hand finds his belt, brown leather tucked through blue denim loops, eyes on you as he slowly but certainly unbuckles it. “Too drunk to drive. Just gonna sleep it off.”

He’s not asking your permission, staring you right in the eye, waiting for you to finally snap and just say what you’ve been thinking all week. He can’t stand more of these irritated glares, he wants to clear the air before it poisons his upcoming week. You stand firm, folding your arms over your chest.

“I’ll order you an Uber.”

Rooster abandons his now unbuckled belt, shrugging the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt back off of his thick shoulders, letting it fall to the floor right there in the entryway. “I’ll be fine here.”

“I think it would be best if you didn’t.” You say softly. He remains unfazed, almost tripping over his boots as he takes a step towards you. Into the centre of the apartment, away from the safe purchase of the counter that he has been leaning on.

“Why?” You didn’t defend yourself to him last week. You just let him tell you that you weren’t good enough and you’ve been sulking about it ever since. He presses forwards unsteadily.

“Because.” You answer sternly. Rooster grabs the hem of his t-shirt, shrugging his shoulders as he peels it up and over his head, dropping it to the ground. His clothes aren’t even in a pile, they’re just scattered across the floor, a mess in his wake. He takes a step away from them and towards you.

“That’s not an answer.” He replies, going for his belt again.

“Stop taking your clothes off!” You demand, furrowing your eyebrows at him as your grip tightens around your door handle like you’re about to retreat. The option of fleeing into your room doesn’t sound so bad, shutting him out and leaving him and his stupid muscles and bad ideas out here alone. He’s close enough now that he could touch you if he wanted, and it wouldn’t be too difficult for you to lean forwards and touch him too.

Rooster stops, his hands on the waistband of his jeans, button popped open and zipper tugged all the way down. He frowns at you, swaying slightly from the amount of alcohol in his system. “I’m not gonna sleep in my jeans.”

There’s a pause. For a second, you think that he must be sober and just fucking with you. Then, he hooks his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and starts to push them down.

“You’re not going to sleep here at all, you weirdo!” You step forwards, planting both hands firmly on the solid warmth of his chest, shoving him. Rooster stumbles and catches his jeans so that they don’t fall around his ankles and trip him. With his free hand, he catches one of your wrists and frowns at you.

With his grip on your wrist, he tugs you forwards, away from the safety of your room and out into the open with him. You bump into his chest and sigh, starting to pull back.

“You’re avoiding me.” He points out, releasing your wrist, instead trailing his touch downwards and weaving his fingers through yours. You roll your eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. “You’re mad at me for what I said.”

It’s unclear whether that’s a question or not. It might be, but he doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead he steps back and leans a fraction of his weight into you. “I didn’t say it to be an asshole, Bambi.”

You lift your head and look him in the eye finally. He softens, hands finding your hips, pressing you back into the doorframe as he steps closer to you. Drunk or not, you’ve got a feeling that he’s here for more than just a place to crash.

“I don’t need you looking out for me,” You reply calmly, finally giving in to your desire to touch him. You skim your fingers gently along the ridges of his abdomen, watching your fingertips move rather than looking him in the eye. “I’m not even sure I like you.”

Rooster’s fingers curl into the fabric of his old baseball t-shirt over your hips, nodding his head. He can’t blame you for being torn. Still, he bumps his hips forwards, his stomach brushing yours before he straightens up, still swaying from the alcohol. “You kissed me, though.”

He doesn’t need to remind you of what else you did for him, he’s certain that you’d remember that.

“I’ve kissed worse guys than you.” You remind him.

One of his hands leaves your waist, trailing up along your side, over your clavicle, until he can tip your chin back. He leans closer and presses his mouth to yours. It’s slow, it’s relief, it’s him melting into you all at once. He pulls back and kisses the corner of your lips tenderly. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked if you do that fight.”

You push your hips forwards into his, chasing his lips and kissing him again, this time catching hold of the nape of his neck to keep him with you. Rooster’s fingers tighten in the material of the shirt as he tugs you even closer to him.

“So, help me train.” You groan softly. You feel him smile amusedly against your skin, his nose nudging your jaw back further as his mouth seeks out that sweet spot just under your ear. You hum as he finds it, sucking tenderly at the sensitive skin.

“No.” He murmurs, fingers curling tighter in the fabric of your shirt as he leans his weight into you, mouth working expert patterns of open-mouthed kisses along your throat. Fuck, he’s good at that.

You frown and push at his hips until he gives in and pulls back to look at you. “Why not?”

“I think it’s a dumb idea and you’re gonna get yourself hurt,” He replies calmly, brushing a strand of loose hair back from your forehead. It’s tender, almost too gentle of an interaction, almost too intimate. He kisses your temple, your cheek, then your jaw. You lean your head back for him to access your neck again. “It’s not the same as playing around with Nix.”

“I’m gonna do it whether you want me to or not,” You answer back, heartbeat simultaneously thudding in your chest and also between your legs as his moustache tickles your throat. You swallow, “So, you might as well help me, right?”

Rooster shakes his head, balling the hem of the shirt under his fist and glancing down. Even in the dim light of the apartment, the shitty warm yellow glow of that fading light bulb over your heads, he can see the cute little butterflies on your panties.

“If I thought it might help, maybe.” You can’t fault his honesty, even if it makes you want to smack him in his stupid, pretty head. Rooster strokes his thumb over the purple and blue butterfly pattern that covers your hip, then turns his attention back towards you. When he does, you’re already looking at his face. He’s such an asshole.

He closes the gap between the two of you and kisses you softly, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you with him. Your fingers skim along his sides, ridges of warm skin under your touch.

His tongue grazes over the seam of your lips. Delighted by how obediently you part them for him, he presses a fraction of his weight into you, sending you stumbling backwards. No thoughts of danger cross your mind. He finds leverage on the wall behind you immediately, bracing his hand against it, keeping you against him.

His free hand slips south from your hip, moving towards the apex of your thighs. Immediately, your legs press together, bracketing his denim covered thigh. His fingers settle back around your hips, pulling you flush against him, slotting one of his thighs between yours.

Groaning softly into your mouth as he rocks himself against your hip, his denim clad thigh rocking back and forth against your core through the thin barrier of your sleep shorts.

Maybe it’s the tequila on his tongue, maybe it’s the fact that he’s so ridiculously honest with you, or perhaps the fact that he’s got a worsening habit of stripping for you, but there’s something so intoxicating about him. Kissing him, touching him, being in his arms.

Pacing along the side of that road after leaving Jett, thinking of the pain and the torment, the bad sex and that intoxicating feeling in the beginning, you’d sworn to be more careful with yourself. Going down on Rooster was probably a bad decision, but not one that you regret. However, letting him touch you is a line that, once crossed, can only make things worse.

Brought back to reality by his hands skimming up your sides, wandering, roaming towards your chest, you pull back so quickly that you bump into the doorframe behind you. He doesn’t miss a beat in going back to what he was saying.

“I don’t get why you want to get your ass kicked so badly, anyway.” He murmurs, shaking his head at you as he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger loosely.

Dead serious and scowling at him through those pretty lashes. He smiles softly. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, then you sigh, realising that he isn’t going to give in.

Your palm rests open against his abdomen as you push him back enough for you to slip under his arm and finally put some distance between the two of you. Rooster watches you pace away from him, his eyes on the curve of your ass under those sleep shorts.

“Did I do something to upset you?” Finally far enough away that you won’t be tempted to lean into that muscled frame and let him kiss you all over, you fold your arms over your chest and frown. Rooster’s brows scrunch.

“Huh?” He was just kissing you, he doesn’t understand now where this came from. The thought crosses his mind that he may have just heard you wrong.

“You‘re the one who wanted me to try boxing, and then everytime I’ve brought it up to you since, you’ve been mean to me.”

“Because it was just for fun! — Wouldn’t it be worse of me to let you get your nose broken in some amateur fight that doesn’t mean shit anyway?” Rooster argues back. A minute ago he had your chest pressed up against his, his mouth on yours — and now you’re arguing with him. Nothing is straightforward with you.

“It’s not your decision whether I do or don’t, so the least you could do is stop being so negative about it.”

“What do you want me to do? — Pretend that I think you’re going to win?”

“I want you to shut up.” You rush out. It’s quick and stern, and he can tell that you really mean it. A coldness in those soft eyes, a bite in your usually gentle tone. Forgetting that you’re supposed to be polite once again. He notices your reaction to your words first.

You take a cautious step back. Your throat constricts, mouth drying out as you swallow. His lack of reaction has your heartbeat in your ears and your hair standing on edge. You’ve been in more trouble with a weaker man for much less.

“Alright.” Rooster nods his head calmly. He lifts his hand, makes a zipping motion across his lips and pretends to throw away the key. You soften before him, the sound of his voice breaking through the thudding beat in your ears.

“Fine. What do I know, anyway? — Not like I’ve been doing this my whole life,” He shrugs playfully, lips quirking at the edges as he raises his palms in mock defence. He holds his hand out for you to come back to him, “I think you’re going to lose, and we’ll leave it at that.”

You stare at him, inhaling slowly and then squinting your eyes. “Fine. We’ll leave it at that.”

Rooster nods and steps towards you. You step quickly around him, brushing your shoulder against his, heading for your room. Willing yourself not to look back, fingers curling around the cold door handle, you shrug calmly, “There are blankets in the basket by the couch.”

As quickly as it opens, your door swings shut behind you. Rooster stares at the wood, humming softly and running a hand over his bare stomach. He flicks the light off and pushes at his jeans, shaking his head softly. Flopping onto the couch, grabbing a blanket, he tucks an arm behind his head and stares at the ceiling.

He’s glad that you’ve found friends here. He just lays awake for a while and wonders how great your new friends can really be if they’re going to let you get your ass kicked for a max payout of three hundred. If it was up to him, you’d listen and stick to running speed bag drills with Fanboy downstairs. If it was up to him, you’d wear those cute pyjama shorts more often too.

…

[residentialrabbit]

Final angel and demon leaders info dump! Ba'alvros Diamante, CEO of the Greed ring and The Archangel Seraphim!

Ba'alvros has businesses in areas all across Hell but her most well-known, and most successful, is the luxury fashion brand Cucci. Greed’s sovereign is decided upon who is currently the most affluent person across all 7 rings.

Despite being the “Greed” sovereign she is a fairly benevolent boss to those who work under her and charitable, having funded the Sloth’s circle’s “Earth on Hell” section for those having a difficult time adjusting to Hell.

She can be seen sniffing her nails for something powdery underneath. Ba'alvros was designed by @carouselunique!

And last but most certainly not least, the seraphim of the archangel, Archangel! Archangel is in charge of the supervision of chosen souls and the transportation of human souls to make sure they arrive at the appropriate afterlife.

Archangel class typically consists of, but is not excluded to, two jobs being an arch guardian and a transporter. Arch guardians watch over and protect their chosen human(s) often manifesting themselves in dreams only their parting guidance/advice to be remembered in the morning.

Transporters play a similar role to a "grim reaper" in that they collect souls when it's their time to enter the afterlife and drop them off at the appropriate real (Utopia, Limbo, Hell). Archangel themselves is a recluse as they are rarely ever seen in public.

Archangel's eyes are always closed unless something catches their interest (though that always isn't a good thing).  Archangel and their class's true form is a dragon with Archangel being the length of a train that takes forever to end when you are stopped at a railroad crossing.

This final month's theme was blue I guess!

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

We're getting close to another favorite moment of mine... I can't wait to write it lol

“Rudy, Vargas.” Ghost greets them, sitting down to eat his breakfast. 

The two Vaqueros nod, Rudy speaking with a mouthful, “Fantasma, slept well?”

He lifts his mask just enough to take a bite of the eggs, “no.”

“Oh.” Rudy swallows the food, “sorry to hear that?”

Alejandro snorts at his awkwardness, “what got you uneasy, hermano?”

Ghost sighs, scanning the room for stray Shadows. He leans in closer to quietly tell them, “caught a Shadow following me and Johnny last night.”

The men’s gaze darkens, “I’ve had a bad feeling about the Gringo for a while now…” Alejandro stabs a tomato angrily, “I’m starting to think he’s not here to support us.”

“What’s your theory?” Ghost indulges.

“He’s the Americans’ way into whatever this mess will lead us.” Rudy nods, continuing for the Colonel. It seems like this isn’t the first time they discuss this, “Shepherd wants his name on our success, and Graves is his toy soldier.” He frowns, “making his Shadows stalk you and Soap, however…”

Ghost finishes his meal, “Shepherd might want to eat the cake and leave it whole. I’d suggest watching each other’s back. Cheers.”

“Keep yourself safe, hermano. Thank you.” Alejandro gives him a sharp nod, mind undoubtedly swirling with all possible scenarios.

Ghost returns the nod, leaving mess. 

If Graves turns his back on them, the fallout will fuck up more than just taskforce 141. The Vaqueros, Commander Karim and Keller, Laswell…

He knows too much. If he betrays them… Ghost will make sure he keeps his mouth shut.

Whether it’s on earth or Limbo, Graves won’t escape him.

Johnny waits for him when he leaves for the training grounds, grinning cheerfully when he spots Ghost.

He falls into step beside him, “goin’ to let Limbo out for a spin?”

His gruff accent sands down the tension he accumulated while talking about Graves, “need to take off the edge, don’t want them too wild on the mission.”

Ghost looks down at Soap, deciding to kick a little at his boots, “you sure you want to follow me to the field? Limbo still wants to take a bite off you.”

Johnny stumbles for a second, pouting up before smirking, “I’ll follow you anywhere, LT”

Ghost gazes at his eyes, the reflection of the sky encompassed within them. He’s only half joking when he murmurs, “that’s what I’m afraid of.” 

He makes Soap stand far, perhaps a little over worrying, but Ghost rather having to shout for his Sergeant to hear than risk his life yet again.

As he lets Limbo loose, he thinks back to his Last conversation with his Reaper. How Johnny is supposed to kill him.

Ghost wishes he believed it more wholeheartedly. It could’ve helped with his constant concerns, his nightmares, the visions so real he can almost see Soap in Limbo now, vacant eyes chasing his light.

Ghost shakes the illusion away, Johnny isn’t here. No reason to torture himself with those ‘what-ifs’.

Limbo has returned to its usual state, his victims all screaming and crying, reaching for the protective light surrounding him. Things have been turbulent for the residents in these last couple of months. Ghost almost feels bad, if he ever let himself feel anything towards his eternally trapped victims.

It’s a slippery slope he rather not go down on.

When he steps out of Limbo, streams of blackened dirt point at Johnny, stopping only a few meters from the Scot.

Ghost huffs when Johnny waves over eagerly, calling out that he’s ‘faster than the creepy gits, LT!’ and that Ghost has nothing to worry about. Maybe once that was true, but the way his lips curl into a smile tells him otherwise.

They part ways when Soap has to go to yet another debrief, not before he taps his shoulder and promises to find him afterwards. Ghost’s heart practically sings when he murmurs, “you better, Sergeant.”

Garrick catches him while he’s still gliding on the high of those promises, a horrified face pulling him back to earth, “Gaz? What’s-”

“I need to talk to you.” his eyes flicker around, “privately.”

Ghost nods, instantly snapping back into business mode, “follow me.”

They silently make their way to the roof, the 4-storey building and the single access point, making for the most secluded place in the entire base.

Gaz walks over to watch the fields, avoiding eye contact with him. Ghost impatiently waits for him to spill whatever got him so frightened.

“Do you know someone called Kirill Bogomolov?” the Sergeant mutters, his back still towards Ghost.

He opens his mouth to give the negative, when he stops. Bogomolov… he has heard the name before.

Ghost inhales sharply. Konchar.

“Yes.” 

Gaz’s head snaps around to gawk at him, “where? Who is he??”

“You first, Sergeant. How do you know Bogomolov?”

Garrick’s voice is somewhat desperate when he speaks, “my Reaper. It said… fuck, Ghost. Kirill was its, strongest Revenant of the Pull ever created.”

“Konchar was Reaped by the same Reaper that got you?” Ghost exclaims in surprise.

Gaz’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, and Ghost exhales, “Konchar is the callsign of Bogomolov. Why did your Reaper bring him up?”

“It said…” Garrick looks down, “it warned me about Soap. Told me I should stay away from him. That it won’t lose another revenant to ‘the Reaper of Destruction’.” Gaz’s eyes look at his, “Soap didn’t kill Konchar, right? Tell me my Reaper’s wrong, Ghost.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, “I heard about Konchar first when Soap lost his memory. He said Konchar killed his squad.”

Gaz’s face scrunches, “fuck…”

“Official reports state Konchar died from the explosion in Verdansk six years ago. Soap, allegedly, was Reaped in the same event.” Ghost’s mind races faster than he could speak, “Reapers don’t lie, Garrick. Soap must’ve…”

The Sergeant rubs his temples, exhaling a shaky breath, “killed Konchar because of that. But you said they couldn’t have met?”

Ghost goes over the timeline again, “if we assume the reports are faked, which they are since your Reaper won’t lie…” things are still so disconnected… “Konchar didn’t die in the explosion. Which means Soap was Reaped before it.”

Gaz floats a few inches of ground, “what do we know on the mission Soap and his squad were on in Verdansk?”

“Nothing. His file is fucking blacked out.”

He drops to the ground again, “couldn’t you ask Soap? You two are close-”

“Johnny won’t say shit.” Ghost almost snarls, frustrations building, “whatever happened there, it made him scream and ask his Reaper why it didn’t fucking kill him.”

“Jesus…” shock spreads on Garrick’s face, and he groans, “what do we do, Ghost? First your Reaper tells you Soap will be ‘your demise’, then mine shows up for the first time in months to warn me it will not lose another revenant.”

“Parra’s Reaper warned him about me as well.” Ghost recounts the memory, “they seem to do that when a strong revenant is around.” he sizes Gaz up, looking for any signs of fear. “We’ll bring it up to the Captain, but if it were up to me… I won’t let that change anything. Although…”

Garrick perks up, “we’ll keep a distance from Johnny when he uses his powers extensively. Don’t underestimate him.” Ghost finishes.

The Sergeant nods, “yes sir. I’ll go inform Price.”

Ghost stays behind on the roof a little longer. If Johnny and Konchar have met after his Reaping…

Is there anything on his file he could truly trust?

The revenant in question finds him while he haunts the halls around the meeting rooms, waiting for him to show up.

Johnny seemed surprised to see him there, and the expression quickly melts into a pleased sort of joy.

“Missed me that much, Ghostie?” he teases.

Ghost can’t stop his eyes from rolling, “in your dreams, MacTavish.”

Soap raises an eyebrow, saying with a lop-sided smile, “oh, you do a lot more in my dreams, LT.”

His face feels on fire under the mask, Ghost stiffens, “that so?”

“Aye” Johnny gives him a shit eating grin, “last night ye took me teh a fancy restaurant, treated me right. If only you were such a gentleman in my waking hours, LT” he puts a hand over his heart, shaking his head in disappointment.

Ghost cuffs him over the head, “don’t see you taking me anywhere nice, Sergeant. You get what you give.”

Soap rubs at the back of his head, frowning up at Ghost, “Oi! You know what, I’ll take ye somewhere real good next time we get leave. You won’t have any excuses after that!”

“I’ll hold you to it, Johnny.”

Soap smiles, the two of them gazing just a little too long at each other’s eyes (not his fault Johnny got pretty ones) when Price’s voice echos in their minds, “I’m truly sorry for interrupting you lovebirds, but we need you two here.”

A comically grief-stricken expression washes over Johnny’s features, “I just got out of debrief…” he whines.

“Won’t be long, Sergeant, just need to verify something.” Price sighs in their head.

Ghost takes hold of Soap’s drooping shoulder, “up and at ‘em, Johnny. The sooner we go, the sooner we finish.”

His Sergeant sighs loudly, “Aye sir…”

“No…” Soap takes a step back, voice shaking, “your Reaper too…? I-I don’t… I would never…”

Ghost takes a hold of his arm, stopping him from running away. He can feel the tension coiling up in Johnny. He knew his Sergeant won’t take the news well, that yet another person is now in danger of him.

Ghost wants to shout at all the Reapers in the world beyond, explain Johnny is the last person to hurt his teammates, that he’s righteous and self sacrificial to a fault.

He knows it won’t matter to them. They don’t care for such small, insignificant details of their human servants.

“We know, son.” Price attempts to calm him, “we’ll change the plan as much as we can, but you’ll have to use your powers to some extent. I’m sorry, but you’re irreplaceable.”

Soap tries to back away again, “no! I can’t- just make me do something else, I’ll be fine with exploding again, I can heal, I-”

“Johnny”, Ghost tightens his hold on him.

Soap stares at him, eyes terrified, “I can’t LT… If I kill any of ye… I wouldn’t forgive myself.”

Price looks between them, crossing his arms. Ghost thinks over the plan again, of the most recent iteration. Soap and Gaz were supposed to create a distraction, make the PMC revenant run away, only to be caught by the rest of their forces, and slowly be pushed back from all fronts.

He turns his head to glare at Price, “swap me and Garrick out, sir.”

Soap and Gaz both exclaim as one, “what?!”

“Go on.” Price squints.

“Me and Soap are the strongest revenants in our forces. If anyone could push the target, it’s us.”

“You two are not immune to each other, Lieutenant. It will be risky to send my best soldiers together.” Price comments.

Ghost feels Soap turn to stare at him, “if Soap is far enough, I can use Limbo safely.”

“And if you get caught in an explosion?”

Johnny takes the arm on him with his hand, squeezing and shaking his head lightly. Ghost ignores him.

“Limbo would stop them.”

Price’s eyebrows raise, Soap gapes at him from the corner of his vision.

The Captain's voice asks in his head, “have you done it before?”

He looks down at Johnny, “no” he whispers in his thoughts.

“Simon…”

Blue eyes shine up at him, skies that hold stars in their depth, “I trust him, John. With my life, with my death, with everything left in me.”

Price tilts his head, something sad softening his features, “...don’t make me regret this, Lieutenant.” he says out loud.

“I won’t, sir.” he doesn’t avert his eyes from Johnny’s.

Plot twist! Konchar and Gaz have the same Reaper!

[barzfrommarz]

My honest unorganized thoughts on c!wilburs ending

(2 years late)

tw: mentions of suicide

I would put my thoughts on the apology tour here too but I think that will make this post to long so i'm just going to talk about the finale stream itself.

Also this is very unorganized bc I dont really remember how it exactly played out and I could go back and watch the VOD but ion wanna hear wilburs voice so im using the wiki for this therefore I wont have intricate details

One thing I really like is the flashback at the beginning. Especially the fade from L'manburg to the destroyed L'manburg I love it sm it reminds me of Analog horror series

(That part isn't relevant tho that's just me nerding out over analog horror)

They then go to Las Nevadas to try and apologize to Q but get ghosted and im pretty sure it was bc of conflicting schedules or smth but the fact that c!tntduo never got a proper ending pisses me off to this day. LIKE wdym they never interacted ever again??? Wdym if followin the dsmp ending Quackity probably has no memory of c!wilbur??? !?!?!??!?! I rlly just wish they could've gotten some form of closure either from cc!wil or cc!quackity and sure its funny ig that Q canonically ghosted c!wilbur but still??!?!??!?! ugh anyways

Tommys outburst towards wil..."I never used to be this angry" KILLS MEEEEEEEEEEE. Also c!wilbur getting scared was so....NOT EVEN TWO SECONDS LATER tommy fucking asks "Wil, are you going to kill yourself?" FUCK?????? BRO????????????? WILBUR DENYING IT TO???? Maybe im wrong here but I dont ever remember other characters acknowledging c!wilbur being suicidal and esp the fact it was c!tommy UGH it kills me

Now getting to my criticisms a little bit, I don't like the utah and gas station thing at all. It feels just so random? Out of place even. I would've liked it more if it was just a desert where c!wilbur was from or something

Then wilburs goes to leave blah blah blah don't trust those americans yada yada

Oh but C!tommy asking c!wilbur to forgive the most important person (himself) then a few minutes later we get "I never did forgive myself"OUGDHSHSGHDGDSHUSHGHUHB

Okay now im going to lay out my main criticisms I have with the finale and why I think it was somewhat unsatisfying and we c!wilbur fans were kinda fucked over in the end

-We should've gotten a VERBAL apology to c!tommy

I understand c!wilbur was afraid of losing him or whatever but it would've shown SO MUCH GROWTH FROM HIM IF HE OUTLOUD SAID "Im sorry" TO THE PERSON HE HURT MOST. Im pissed that presumably cc!wilbur decided not to have that happen. Even if it was bad JUST DO IT. c!wilbur was going to leave anyways so him being scared of losing c!tommy if he apologized wouldn't matter!

My next point is that c!wilbur leaving wasn't thought out enough I think. I do personally think c!wilbur should've left the place that ruined him to heal. That's step one of learning to heal but with the apology tour being a flop and him never verbally apologizing to c!tommy it felt unsatisfying and almost underserved and I see why so many people afterward were like "he doesn't just get to leave". What would've helped I think would've been more streams or longer streams if possible. There was so much shit that needed to be retconned but it wasn't given enough time I feel and thats why to so many ppl they were unsatifyed/upset

Going more into the utah shit. I hate it. I hate the "Plot twist" of him being secretly american and from utah. Not even getting into how the real world is now apparently canon to the dsmp in one of the last few dsmp lore streams. I honestly would've liked it more if it wasn't specifically named what the place was instead it was just home. I also had this idea of instead of him disappearing in the middle of the ocean I think it would've been cooler if c!wilbur took a train somewhere almost like a callback to limbo.

I don't like how its somewhat implied c!wilbur killed himself again. It feels cheap to kill of a already heavily suicidal character AGAIN when instead it genuinely could've been a story about how you can learn to heal and forgive yourself even if you did bad things. Maybe this is just me not wanting my favorite character to die but I don't like it at all

Ghostbur was also handled terribly. I understand why alivebur hated him but I also think it would've shown growth if he learned to accept ghostbur in the end. Even if it wasn't fully

Also why the fuck did we never get the contents of the book c!wilbur gave c!tommy?? You throw that shit in just to never tell us what's in it almost 2 years later??

Final thoughts

I might go back and edit this later with more things but for my final thoughts I think c!wilburs finale +the apology tour was a big unsatisfying flop and I belive c!wilbur fans were unfairly fucked over in the end.

Not to sing brighton biter praise, but I do believe he was a good writer and the fact that the last few streams were this unsatisfying is disappointing coming from him. I mean im sure he just wanted to get c!wilburs finale out so he could be done with it but that's not an excuse for fucking your fans over. There was also probably issues with other ccs and characters since (Imo) a lot of the characters he interacted with in the end don't have the best writing (not meant to insult the ccs btw, just saying)

But personally, I somewhat accept it simply bc this is the best we got and I personally don't like alot of other fan re writes on his ending and I also don't like his ending just being "lol he killed himself again"

Anyways that's it, sorry for being unorganized and I apologize if I got anything wrong I might add more to this later. Thx for listening <3

[shearlin]

Word count: 2678

Chapter 7: Time

First || << Previous || Next >>

Happy International Women's Day that was yesterday! As a gift, have a cameo!

Fun fact! I noticed that on average I'm adding 1k words to my "final" drafts when I search for typos and errors before posting. Good thing I put an uploading schedule for myself in place or I would ended up in the editing limbo.

(I also discovered I cannot write accents for the life of me. There was an attempt, but I had to scrap it because I just couldn't do it justice. The accents live in my head and in my heart.)

Enjoy! :D

Another day, another fight, another close call. This time it was… well, Time.

They were on their way to Lon Lon Ranch, landing in old man’s Hyrule only a day's walk away from it. Their spirits were high, the sunbeams bright and the monsters stupid enough to think they didn’t notice them hiding in sparse shrubbery on the side of the road.

The fight didn’t look like anything special. They were so used to working together by that point, it felt more like a choreographed dance routine than a real battle. Legend twirled the ice rod in his hand, wielding his sword in the other, freezing and shattering any monster coming too close, while being covered by Sky with the Master Sword and a whip. Hyrule was dancing around the Darknut with ease giving Wind and Four an easy shot at his back, the two of them making quick work of its armour. Wild was giving them all multiple heart attacks by letting a giant moblin stab the air inches from his face, only to kill it in a rapid fire of blows in a blink of an eye. He would later claim he was ‘training his magic abilities’ and acting all innocent, the madman. Twilight was going after archers, covering the distance between him and them in a blink of an eye as a wolf, coming out of the shift with his sword already swinging. Warriors was taking care of the supposed leader of the pack, separating it from the rest and not letting it bark out any orders or call retreat.

And Time was dealing with a pair of black lizalfos from Sky’s era.

Legend didn’t see how it happened, not that it mattered, only heard the old man coming down with a yell of pain as the spiked metal ball connected with his left knee and rendering him vulnerable and unable to fight.

Twilight and Wars were to his side in an instant, covering him while Time tried to do his best to not move so as to not upset the crushed joint any further. Sky went absolutely ballistic on the monsters he and Legend were dealing with, allowing the veteran to provide additional aid to the old man's defence with his ice rod, allowing Wars to start on the first aid.

They might have been overeager in making sure Time was okay, but to be fair, they were just a few hours away from Malon. They were not going to bring to her doorstep her husband all broken and beaten up.

They defeated the monsters quickly after that, powered by their righteous fury. A fairy that was travelling with them for the past few hours, straight up phased through the glass of her bottle as soon as the last monster fell, so she could heal his leg, despite old man's insistence he would be fine with a red potion, since they were going to the ranch to rest anyway. She had none of that, healing him in a tirade of bells and chimes and then zipped ahead to have her fill of sugar water as a reward.

Legend might not be able to speak with the pink fairies, but by the way Time chuckled as she offered her farewells, he was convinced that that particular one had enough excitement for her life .

Once the injury was mended and Time led them back on the road, the good mood from earlier returned to their group and they started joking around again. Just their local old man being too slow with his reflexes and not being able to keep up with them younglings.

But Legend couldn’t help but feel the uneasiness prickle under his skin once more, as he fell to the back of the group, brushing off Sky’s questioning look and Hyrule’s attempts at conversation. They got the hint easily enough and he was left alone with his thoughts.

The ‘old man’ jokes were all in good fun. The old man himself was often pointing out with humour, how he can’t possibly rival their vigour during training sessions or with the long days of trekking across the lands of Hyrule, no matter his ability to move with deceptive ease and speed when he really wanted to.

And it wasn’t like those jokes were unfounded. He was the oldest. If anyone, Legend would know how years of heroing can weigh on one’s body. Time might have only two (three?) official quests under his belt, but he did spend his teenage and young adult years hunting monsters, clearing and cleansing dangerous cursed places and doing all sorts of work for the crown as the Hero of Time. He might have found peace and tranquillity in the life on the ranch with Malon once he officially “retired” that title, but it didn’t erase years of injuries, scarred tissues or impaired-or-possibly-lack-of vision in his right eye. The entire chain could attest that it would be weird if that life didn’t leave any strain on his body.

Occasional injuries caused by slower reflexes or lingering stiffness was to be expected.

Logically, Legend knew that. But it was happening too often.

Well, not really, it was happening too often for his taste.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[usedpidemo]

Update - Happy New Year! (and some housekeeping)

*TV static intensifies*

Hey everyone! π here.

Once again, I'd like to wish all of you formally a happy new year! This will be my third year with you, and I hope you're still enjoying my works and I appreciate you for your continued support.

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to give you an overall update on things happening behind the scenes, but first:

2023 Poll

I only posted 10 fics over the previous year, rip, but they're easily some of my most popular and positively received works in the library. Vote up to three of your favorite fics released from me during 2023! I was supposed to include Plaid on the list, but I didn't finish it on time, and as a result this poll also delayed lol. You can change your votes anytime if you have a change of heart. Poll begins from today until January 7, 2024 1:00 P.M. KST/12:00 AM EST.

2024 Road map

And because I only posted 10 fics all throughout 2023, my personal goal in 2024 is to increase the amount of releases, while continuing to improve the quality and maintain consistency. Hopefully. In real life, I'll be entering my third year of college once the holidays are over, and this may be the last full year of freedom I get. I might have to do on-the-job training (OJT) and write up my thesis, which requires a lot of personal commitment so I can finally graduate. I'm basically on borrowed time at this point.

Plans change. Shit happens. Everything that I'm about to say isn't exactly a 100% guarantee, and I really don't wanna promise anything because I've broken way too many promises. But here's the initial proposed list of idols that will be getting fics in 2024:

Hanni

Chaeryeong

Ningning

Yunjin

Rei

Sejeong

Nagyung

Haewon

Yuqi

Xiaoting

Minji (Newjeans)

Sakura

Youngeun

Karina

Sullyoon

Heejin

And this doesn't include idols I've already written :)

Looks ambitious—and it is—but if I can complete even half of that list, I feel as if I've already accomplished my goal.

Commissions

To the people who've been waiting for their requests, once again I'd like to apologize for the delays. I feel terrible knowing I've got so many projects in limbo because of circumstances beyond my control, and it feels as though I've betrayed your trust. However, we're picking things up and I'll gradually be releasing them throughout the early stages of 2024. Thank you for waiting just a little bit longer.

With that said, my personal plan is to implement the following so this never happens again: I'll be scaling back on the number of commissions I can accept at a time so there's more breathing room for requests as well as personal ideas/projects. Ideally, this would mean releasing fics in a 2-to-1 format: 2 commissions then 1 personal idea, but this would vary based on personal schedule and overall demand. Balancing real life commitments with burnout is a huge challenge, and I believe this is the most comfortable situation for me. Please understand that I'm still just one guy and I can't do everything all at once. If I could clone myself, I would abuse the shit out of that ability.

Closing

Overall, I've been blessed to have such a wonderful 2023, and I pray 2024 will be just as kind, if not kinder. I've experienced some of the highest highs and the lowest lows, but I personally feel that 2023 was the best year I've had in almost a decade, and this blog is one reason for that. It wasn't as productive as it used to be, but the increasing support is simply humbling. Heck, I've been entrusted to bring some of your visions/fantasies to life, which shows how much faith you have in me to succeed and bring you quality art. There's no amount of words that can express how truly grateful I am to you, the readers, my peers in the writing community, and to our heavenly Father.

Regardless of what happens to me or this blog, I hope 2024 will be kind to you all. Love you.

with grace,

peter / π

[leggerefiore]

This came to me last night in the weird sleep limbo where you’re trying to fall asleep, but you’re not QUIET there yet.

But just imagine being rich af. And by rich, I’m talking “fuck you I’m gonna buy the entire government just so I can make your BS illegal” rich. But you don’t dress or look like it at all, and you never really talk about it because it doesn’t occur to you that it’s not normal to be able to fly to Kalos and have a month long shopping spree on a whim. You prefer to wear comfy things like hoodies and sweatpants when out and about, so unless someone is familiar with you and your family personally, there’s nothing that indicates you’re rich whatsoever. It actually takes a few months of dating before either of the Submas realize just how fucking loaded you are, and it’s only because after a dinner date one night you casually decided to tip the waitress her entire fucking college tuition because you liked how nice she was. It obviously caused a bit of a scene as the waitress proceeded to cry and thank you profusely while the Submas look on in absolute bewilderment that you can just so casually drop several tens of thousands of dollars on a whim.

You have to sit down and explain to them the extent of your finances after that, and even then they don’t really believe you until you take them to your “real house”; AKA a huge ass mansion in the swankiest part of Nimbasa city. It’s a complete culture shock to put it lightly, to suddenly have such a wealthy significant other. Ingo is very bashful about you paying for anything because he doesn’t want you to feel like he’s taking advantage of your relationship. Emmet is more upset however that you had access to extremely fancy chocolate and sweets this ENTIRE time, and didn’t share with him lol.

Djsjfjd

Ingo suddenly feels like this is Too Much for him. He's one of two funny train men in the Nimbasa subway, why like him? He also really does 100% really oppose you paying for anything, since he is terrified he'll seem like he's using you for his wealth. He would also probably end up grounding you on accident and making you understand less fortunate people.

Emmet probably also has a moment of denying your ability to pay for him anything until you do offer to get him the expensive chocolate. Then he is Okay with it in certain circumstances.

Both whine if you try to take them on trips with you since they're so busy, though. Even if they want to see the apparent hell that is a Kalosian subway or the rail system of Galar, they're too busy.

Also, what if you just bought the Gear Station, lmao?

[shroomgal]

Were we really soul tied or was it just limerence?

This is based off of my own research and experience.

About three years ago i matched with this guy on tinder. He wasn't particularly striking. White, shaggy dark brown hair, big nerdy glasses and brown eyes that caught me off guard a little. I swiped right and we matched instantaneously. We talked here and there for about two weeks, sending selfies back and forth, playing the weird game that is snapchat, which is so fucking normalized for whatever reason. (like really, why are we sending blank photos of to each other with no context or conversation ??) Anyways, two weeks in was when the situationship started. A situationship is the stage between friends with benefits and a relationship. Situationships can feel like limbo, never knowing if it will surpass where its currently at. I was drunk at a club, shaking my ass to the latest 2021 trap hits. He asks me to hookup, and I honestly just needed the validation. My friend drives me 15 minutes to his place, where I meet him in his big white range rover in the parking garage of his apartment building. From there, he tells me I'm beautiful in person. I've always had a soft spot for that word. Beautiful. I didn't hear it about myself too often. When he said it, it felt true. And genuine. We had sex.

I started talking to him daily through our snapchats, enamored by our first night together. He would come over, we would hang out, smoke, fuck, watch tv, be human. I developed a bond with him where I felt comfortable in my own skin. I felt comfortable to show him parts of my personality other people didn't normally see. The obsession grew. He took me to a smoothie shop this one time, we held hands. I thought for sure he was my next boyfriend, maybe even my last if I played my cards right. I envisioned a life with him, where I was comfortable, and happy, and me.

One day, after a month of us hanging out, he cancelled on me. Then he cancelled again. Eventually he just stopped responding to me via snapchat. I knew I was getting ghosted, but it was more heart wrenching this time. It was like he was squeezing my heart into knots, watching the blood pour out. When I found out it was because there was someone else, that hurt even more. When I saw he had superliked my best friend on tinder, thats when a part of me crumbled.

On and off these memories of us floated around in my head. This perfect thing that had suddenly vanished, and at that, he had shown interest in the person i loved and trusted the most. Knowing she was in my life. The questions danced in my head, taunting me with every blink. "How did he lose interest so quickly? Things seemed so real and normal." "Why does he want my best friend and not me?" "What am I doing wrong?" These questions and comments on myself mocked me.

I decided to try and win him back. If he wanted mentally ill and crazy, oh, I was gonna give him just that. I played the crazy obsessive ex role. Texting him and calling him, mostly just dumb pranks and me begging for him back the most unserious ways i could. Sometimes he would add me back, we would sext and he would block me again in the morning. But after a while, I met someone else, and gave up.

Thats when he stepped back in. He added me on snapchat, I ignored it. He unadded me and then added me back. I ignored him. He then proceeded to spam like my instagram photos, determined to get my attention. This was now different. He was chasing ME this time. It was tempting, especially since my relationship at the time had been sailing south. But i declined his offers, and went on with my life until,

My relationship ended. All of the sudden, I was back on the obsession train. The thought of him plagued my mind. His hair, his glasses, his voice, his eyes. Everything. The game continued, he would unblock me, we would sext, he would block me in the morning. Eventually I guess this game got old to him because suddenly my texts wouldnt deliver at all, even after a few days. I've stopped myself from reaching out since I called, not expecting a response, and he told me to move on.

Now, my question was, was i really connected to this man, or was I just led into delusion? Well, I fully believe I was a victim of BPD limerence. I do NOT think that we had any sort of soul tie at this point, despite all the angel numbers I've seen in regards to this. I think he's just a shitty guy at this point who liked my hot girl obsession. I think I unfortunately gave him exactly what he wanted, and for that i say to myself: GIRL STAND UP!!!!! In conclusion I am insane and I need to stop letting men take over my brain. At the end of the day, I am authentic. And me. And I have SO much, with or without this man in my life.

[fleeting-sanity]

Musical Forms

[ Previous Entry ] 🎵 [ Read @ Ao3 ] 🎵 [ Chapter Index ]

"I'm sure he'll take it well."

No matter how busy he was, those words never failed to steal his focus away. Restructuring the training method for the Knights? Done, but the Jedi Master never showed up because he forgot to contact her. Allocating funds between fortifying the Odessen base and reparations on worlds most affected? Off by four percent, when it should have been five, but blame his perfectionist nature for that. Attending that particularly insufferable annual gala? Zero fundings and partnerships were secured, but at least he looked impeccable! Which meant nothing to him.

He wanted to stop her from saying such things to their son. But his ego coupled with the busy schedule prevented that. It might also mean that he would be keeping Jaesa in limbo, appearing as if he was toying with her heart. Which would be the last thing he'd ever do. But he was not ready to forgive her yet. Why was she forcing his hand like this, he seethed.

Just as he was about to rage about it all, his son skipped inside his office beaming. Breathe in, breathe out, straighten the face, unclench the fist, then smile, as his mind forced him to. He needed to stop raging around the vicinity of his son, or better yet, stop raging at all. 

"Father! How's your day?"

Immediately, the rage evaporated. "I'm good. How about you? How's class?"

“Mmm, it was okay, we got out early,” As the boy took his seat opposite his father. “Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

Oh no. Did Jaesa already tell him about their relationship? But Rian's facial expression did not match his assumption.

"Are you finally free to spar?"

A subtle breath of relief escaped his mouth. He gave Rian the brightest smile, then an affirmation to his question. "In fact, how about now? Before it gets too hot and the sun won't glare as much."

"YES! Let's go!"

Both father and son merrily jogged their way to a small field near his Fury starship. Rian was equally nervous and excited to duel his fearsome father. He had seen some illicit holos recorded by Zakuulans at the Asylum and the Old World where Rionnic was clad in dark armor, slaughtering Knights and Skytroopers left and right. The child in him thought it was cool, but the Jedi in him thought it was horrifying. Was he really about to challenge that killing machine?

"Don't uh… don't go easy on me!"

But Rionnic sensed the real emotion behind that statement. Unfortunately, he would have to disregard that request. Maybe he could compose a proper training structure for Rian?

“How about I see your forms first? Practice them on me.”

“But I want to fight like real!” Rian protested, which was unusual of him.

“Hmm… the purpose of sparring is to improve and learn, good Sir. How about I make you a training set so we can go through them each week? Sounds fair?”

The little padawan wanted to further defy Rionnic’s authority, but a pout would do. He received a sheepish smile in return; the father seemingly relieved that his attempt at placating worked. Another side of Rian was actually intimidated by that image of his father as the former executioner, and his parents did not know that he knew. Despite Jaesa’s best efforts to shield him from that, and the reason why she left Rionnic.

“Alright, let’s go.” As Rionnic drew his lightsaber out.

His son took the initiative of surprising him by flinging a rock missing his face just inches away, using the Force. Rionnic was given little time to parry a forward lunge of a green blade by swinging upwards, and the grin on his face indicated how impressed he was. As the combat progressed; being the only one in the offensive and a little upset, Rian performed some Juyo moves. There were obvious openings for Rionnic to counterattack, but he chose to go easy on his son.

“Shien... very good!”

Both father and son were so focused on each other that they failed to realize Jaesa was watching them from near the starship. She kept thinking about the pain she would be inflicting Rian with that impulsive decision made in moments of volatility. One time she’d be a fighter with unstoppable spirit and determination, the other would be her beaten, letting go, and ready to move on. Just like her husband, she actually wasn't ready to tell Rian about this.

She decided to give them space and left without either noticing. 

As the morning turned to noon, Rionnic offered a break from the sparring session, which Rian accepted rather reluctantly. The training didn't come out exactly as the padawan had hoped, but at least there would be more of it in the coming weeks. The pair climbed the natural rocks stairway to a ledge overlooking Fury. 

"That was fun. I'm quite surprised by your mastery of the forms. You're very talented!" As Rionnic peppered praises unto his son. However, it might have fallen on deaf ears when he noticed Rian seemingly spaced out. Could this be about what Jaesa might have said? Or was he back to last week where his mind was contemplating all of those Sith atrocities? So many speculations on his part.

"... Rian?"

"Oh! Sorry! T-thank you father!"

The Sith chose to dismiss his neuroticism with another winning smile. "Are you tired? Ah, I should have brought drinks or more supplies for this."

"It's alright, father. We'll be better prepared next time,"

"Agreed! Actually, remember that one thing I promised you?"

Rian's eyebrow shot up, scratching his neck trying to recall said promise. Once the figurative lightbulb lit, he triumphantly raised a finger while exclaiming his answer. 

"You'll sing?!"

Again, Rionnic's distraction tactic worked. It was his turn to become shy as he ruffled the back of his neck, confirming it by a nod. He started believing what those parenting books were stating about children inheriting their parent’s involuntary movements; in this case, the exact same way they scratch their necks. Seeing Rian’s eyes sparkling with a complementing open mouth smile eased some of his imaginary stage fright. 

“Stay here, I’ll go get my instrument!”

Rionnic sprinted towards Fury, fetching a pitcher of water and its cups along with a xantha. Their thirst was first quenched before Rionnic pulled out a piece of paper containing the lyrics of his original song. A paper felt more personal to him rather than writing it on a datapad, especially a song for his long lost son. The amount of times he has performed can be counted on one hand, and all of it was private.

“Ahem… I’ve actually written this quite some time ago, I’ve just been spending time practicing it. Um… I hope you like it?”

The song started with a modified locrian mode by the xantha, progressing to the latter part of a melodic major. But when he was about to start singing, what came out of his mouth was a snicker instead. He groaned, covering his mouth in shame. “Sorry! Um… I’m a little nervous,” said the father while blushing. Rian gave some reassurance, while his father readjusted his breathing and cleared his throat. “Alright, alright, no more messing up this time!”

He knows when, fate notwithstanding, Strings of green and shine, Echoes from nature's dark and spring, Northern wind takes what he finds,

Return to him surely with time.

Beautiful is the mind of child, Swift is the wit of innocence, Beautiful are the eyes of child, Light is of the higher sense.

Ooh-oh, dull encrusted glimmer trails him, Wisdomful exchanges ever so enlightening, Ooh-oh, to sail the seas of brilliant stars, Enter the heart of clashing forces, no…

Will our mutual respect be enough?

Home is the true scenery of the heart, Hope is the true end of it all, Home are the souls inside the heart, Hold the darkness and never fall!

Return to him surely with time.

The song ended with a somber note, something Rionnic changed last minute instead of belting the line out. Rian's mouth was agape throughout the entire song, seemingly entranced by the acoustic performance. Truthfully, he never expected his father to sound like that. Noticing the son's facial expression made Rionnic even more flustered. 

"Um… what do you think? Any critique?"

"Critique? Why?"

The question to his question confused Rionnic instead. Perhaps he should have phrased it better? "Umm… I mean, do you like it? Do you think I can improve?"

"Can you sing it again?"

"Oh? Y-yes, yes of course!"

This time, Rian was swaying along to the music, taking in the melodies with closed eyes. When the song finished, he giggled while grasping Rionnic's arm. "Heehee… I like it, father. It's just that… you sound a little different from your speaking voice."

Indeed, he sang a few octaves higher than his usual range, and in a simpler style instead of his classical technique. Not a trace of his Empire accent was heard. He thanked his son like he was the fan and not the singer. The king of his heart couldn’t stop giggling, being flattered that he had such an amazing father. “Can you explain the lyrics?”

“The song is about you, good Sir. The very first line is about our bond through the Force. Green and shine means your lightsaber, echoes of dark and spring means… well, your spelunking hobby!”

The father happily explained each lyric, but there was one line he kept vague. It was about the state of his marriage, bluffing it off by telling Rian how much both parents loved him, which was not untrue. Which led Rian to ask; “Have you… sang for mother?”

Of course he’d go there, Rionnic thought. “I… haven’t.”

“Huh? But mother said she heard you sing?”

“But, um, not directly to her,” Rionnic mustered all the of self control he had to avoid mentioning the abandonment, not wanting to appear resentful in Rian’s eyes. “I very rarely sing, good Sir. As I’ve said before, I’m quite self-conscious about it.”

“Aww, I’m sure mother would love to hear you sing a song to her someday! Just a suggestion!”

He ruffled Rian’s dark brown mane, steering clear of promising anything in regards to Jaesa. But he did promise future songs for Rian. The pair then returned to Rionnic's office, being welcomed by Jaesa sitting and browsing a datapad. "Mother! Oh shoot, I forgot about the class story!"

"Seems like you both were having a good time."

"Yeah! I just sparred with father and…" Rian trailed off, looking up to gauge his father's expression. It was always the same loving smile that he could sense the sadness underneath. "I learned a lot from him!”

Rionnic was sure that Rian would tell his mother about the song and honestly wouldn’t mind if he did. He dismissed it as his son being considerate of his feelings about it, which eased up some of the tension upon facing Jaesa after that conversation. Still, he wasn’t the biggest fan of Rian needing to assuage his feelings; he was a firm believer of children freely expressing themselves. 

“Sooo…. the class earlier today was about attachments. While we can show compassion and love to those who need them, we cannot compromise the will of the Force. Whatever happens to them, we have to accept and believe in the best? This part I don't quite understand…"

"I think it means that if we lose them one day, we must always believe that the Force had better plans for them. We let them go…" Jaesa lamented, indirectly reflecting her own situation.

"Does that include both of you…?" Rian asked in a whimpery tone, which made Rionnic cross his arms, trying to hide his disapproval of this Jedi lesson. 

"We'll never leave you, but as you grow, I think you would want some independence. You still have a lot to look forward to, so don’t worry about that!" Tried the father in appeasing his son. The boy nodded, easily absorbing the advice of his amazing father. 

Shortly after Rian left to spend time with his friends, Jaesa didn’t wait to make her exit after cleaning up the tea set. It was unexpected for her husband who actually wanted a conversation after Rian’s lecture session. He could only stare as Jaesa left the office, panicking internally yet again. Should he give chase? Was he really about to chase his wife down?

“Wait!” 

Jaesa stopped in her tracks, brows furrowed for a double take. It was her husband’s voice, that much was unmistakable, but was he actually calling out to her? “I want to talk.”

Oh, so now he wanted to talk, as Jaesa scowled. She did not turn around and resumed her steps with a faster pace, again surprising Rionnic. What action should he take to make Jaesa stop? Instead of the obvious reach and grab, he stated in a desperate yet reluctant manner; “Bridge towards Fury.”

He waited for his wife there for about an hour. A part of him was amazed that she dared to make him wait when she was the one in the wrong , another part liked this new side of her. But the matter at hand was serious, and he promised himself to not let it devolve into another argument. When the large blast door of the military base opened, it showed his wife walking towards him with a cold countenance. She avoided looking into his eyes; wordlessly standing near him.

“Have you told him?” asked Rionnic without looking at her either, awkward and detached. 

“I haven’t.”

And quiet. Jaesa did not want a potential conflict, thus she started leaving. Rionnic was having a hard time trying to convey what he wanted to say, producing only a simple; “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I thought we were supposed to keep up appearances for him?”

“And let the lie continue until it implodes? Until he finds out then resents us? I changed my mind, Valius. It’s better for him to find out… what we are now so we can all move on to wherever life takes us. I know my place.” Valius. That was a name he has not heard in a long time. Hearing it spoken from his wife’s mouth felt like a fatal blow to his heart. It was actually a name that only the people in his home planet called him, which shouldn’t hurt since they both hailed from Alderaan. It was the tone. Furthermore, the way Jaesa kept wanting to leave exasperated him. But he couldn’t say anything more after that, and only watched her disappear into the base. 

There was a war happening in both his mind and heart. He dreaded losing his little family all over again, only in a different way. A new wound opened on top of the still raw one–it was how cold Jaesa was. Like a switch flipped. Or maybe it wasn't an instant change, and he believed in his part of constantly hurting her. But he was still hurt, too.

Could he overcome the pain and confess his undying love for her even though it wouldn't feel right?

[burdened-boy]

/ S / K / U / L / L /

[ think fast, @paleobird ]

"I don't know what I can give you for this," the pawn shop keeper muttered, training a flashlight on the skull, "Twenty dollars? I have no idea if its real."

An hour earlier, Limbo's shovel hit something hard in the dirt. He took a moment from digging a suspiciously human-sized hole, and pulled a football-sized skull, of seemingly avian origin, from the ground. Using the same hose to rinse the trunk of his car out, the hitman cleaned off the specimen, finding that it was almost fully intact.

Now, he was back in the city, standing outside of the pawn shop, having not traded the fossil for cash. It has to be worth something; when was the last time birds were that big?

Limbo would dedicate one more stop to trying to find a home for this bird, or it was going in the river. He had things to do.

[memorystormsanctuary]

Day 2~ New Worlds

Another day and we’re back at it again for @khoc-week​. Today I’m working with two prompts, one being the main prompt for the day, New Worlds, and the second from the alphabet list, Remember. As the incarnation of Light she has lived many lives in a constant cycle of reincarnation, and until around KH3 time she doesn’t remember any of them. I didn’t draw her new world forms, but I did include her with her dream eaters, the new worlds are covered more in the short story itself than the art.

The start of Kingdom Hearts 3 begins with Y taking her Mark of Mastery exam, hoping to gain the power needed to rescue Aqua, Terra, and Ventus. She faces several new worlds in their sleeping state. In this dream world learns more about herself and the past lives she’s lived. 

Y was always happy when new worlds required an outfit change to avoid standing out. It was something fun that with barely anything she would already know something about the new world. She loved the fins she gained in Atlantica, and the pirate themed  outfit for the Caribbean. Though she hadn’t been to Halloween Town since leaving the Organization she was excited at the prospect of what form she would take, since Sora was a vampire and X had turned into a werecat of sorts. Perhaps this world was in the same vein as Halloween Town. After all, she was painted like a skeleton.

Y was fairly sure it was some kind of paint anyways, most of her arms were covered in it. A surprising amount of detail was painted into the bones, Y was almost convinced she really was a skeleton. But her Komory Bat was still bumping into her arm, so it confirmed the flesh was still there. She just needed to seem like she wasn’t alive. Which made sense for what X had called the Land of the Dead.

Seeing the worlds she had faced in the Realm of Darkness was strange. And though they had returned them to the Light some were still caught in a limbo state. It offered more insight into the worlds than their shadows had.

“This place is even more heartbreaking now,” Y muttered to herself, standing in the piles of discarded belongings. It hadn’t made sense why so many things had been grouped together before. But knowing now, she wished she didn’t. “This is really all that’s left of them.”

The worst part of this world, Y had decided, was knowing when someone truly disappeared. Standing here she stood in all that was left of so many. Those that had been forgotten by everyone. Her heart ached looking at the broken toys and crafts. What had once been the most prized possessions of the forgotten.

All she could think of were the words Lea had said, a broad grin on his face. ‘In peoples memories he could live forever’. And maybe, with enough people he could last for a long time. After all, there were some here who had been residents for what must have felt like forever. Their families still spoke their names and told their stories. But even with all that forever, real forever, seemed like far too long. Eventually they would all fade.

Unless the one who remembered you would live forever.

Y took a few steps forward, carefully moving to step around her two bunny like dream eaters. The Me Me Bunny and Majik Lapin bounced to follow her movements as she tried to find some sort of logic to the rubble. Anything to tell her about the people who had once been here.

It was beginning to make sense, why X had always insisted on reciting the names in the keyblade graveyard. As his hand had brushed each key, he spoke their names into whatever echoing silence there was. Maybe he felt it was his responsibility as one who would see forever, to make sure their names did too. Or maybe it was the only way he could keep his friends from lives past with him. To make that forever a little less lonely.

A soft bump on her leg broke her train of thought. She smiled down at the Majik Lapin who had bumped her leg. She crouched down, placing her hand behind one of its ears.

“Sorry, just thinking,” Y said, forcing a smile and chuckle. The Me Me Bunny brushed her other hand, it was on instinct it came to rest in between its ears. All this thought of forever. She had seen what would count as forever, at least to those who hadn’t lived her lives. She could remember countless others who had been lost. “Who do you think will remember us?”

Who would remember those who live forever when the time finally comes?

We remember you. The soft voices in her mind chorused. She felt a bump on her shoulder, and with only a slight glance she could see the Komory Bat resting on her as if she were a perch.

“Thank you,” Y said softly. She titled her head to bump against the Spirit on her shoulder. The Spirits had been a comfort on what would have otherwise been a lonely exam. Being able to talk to anything made the thoughts seem smaller. “You know the last time I was here, there was this picture. It had all my friends from a long time ago in it. I didn’t remember them at the time. But I knew they were my friends just from the picture. It’s sad to think, because I didn’t remember their names they would have faded if they were here. At least if I was the only one who knew them.” She continued to brush her hand against the two dream eaters heads and nuzzle the Komory Bat with her head.

There were so many, all lost. Names ran through her mind one after the next each with only the faintest hint of a face before she moved on to the next person. One after the other. So many that maybe only she remembered.

“I don’t want them to be forgotten,” Y whispered. She pulled her hands back, resting over her heart. Their names a mantra in her thoughts, flashes of missions and games. Her friends. Her Dandelions. “Zia, Haku, Raito, Kirai, Jax, Annora, Skuld, Kariya, Saki, Anri.”

She listed their names, taking a pause to remember them as she did. The way Kariya had always had a sly grin and a smart word to pick a fight. They had met because of him picking a fight. And he was almost always with Zia, the stoic girl he could always be trusted to rile up. And Haku and Raito, the brothers forced to stand on opposing sides. Though it was always clear they were never into the fights of unions. Saki the bright girl who always guided her quiet friend, Anri who clung to her. They both could be trusted to listen whenever Kirai spoke though. Kirai their little wraith. The one who would always pull them from trouble before disappearing once again. Jax, the one who always had the answers until he didn’t. Annora the one who would never stop fighting their fate. And Skuld. A leader through and through.

“I miss them all.” Y whispered.

We’re here!

Kamiko remembers!

Missed you too!

Y gasped, looking up again at the three dream eaters with her. They all seemed to be bouncing happily, as if they hadn’t said anything strange at all. Her heart clenched as she looked at each in turn. Slowly piecing together what they meant. She had thought she knew their voices, though they were only echoes in her head.

“Wait,” Y said. Her eyes stopped on the Komory Bat. “Kariya?”

There it is. Somehow he still sounded so sly.

“Saki?” This time the Majik Lapin answered.

Here!

“Anri?”

We’re here. The Me Me Bunny repeated again.

Y felt her heart clench again, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at the dream eaters. Her friends. Still here. After all this time.

Part of her could only be confused. How had they gotten here, and in such a state? They were once wielders but now they were far from it. But the part of her heart that ached outweighed the confusion. She couldn’t help the way she reached for them, pulling them closer to her. She hadn’t had the time to process the missing pieces in her heart. They all felt like fresh wounds, raw and aching. The slightest thing filling her with pain once again. The heavy grief following her the more she remembered from her lives before. But now, there was something that filled the hole, even if just a little.

We’ll remember you. Anri’s soft voice said.

Maybe forever could be found in a dream.

“And I’ll remember you,” Y said. “I won’t ever let you fade.”

[sushigal007]

Whoops, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? I blame the covid. Totally wiped me out. It’s also been a busy few weeks at work, plus my kid got themselves a theme park pass, and half my free time is now spent driving to Thorpe Park. And, my sister has been to Greece about four times this year already ‘cause our mum’s been unwell, and that’s me on airport driving duty. Basically, too much real life, not enough simulated life. But! I’m ill again, which means I’ve finally managed to claw a few hours spare to post the Ramirez household. Say hi to Checo, everyone!

Right, time to drug your army of children.

Checo and Lisa: Actually, we would like to bang.

And I would like you to train your quads. Lisa: Isn’t that what the nanny’s for?

Huh, apparently so!

But we can also add in a little parentification now that Tessa’s ageing up.

Tessa: These hands were made for jazz.

Yep, Tessa’s LTW is to become Lord of the Dance. We’ll see how that goes.

Max also grew up! Nobody noticed.

So yeah, this is Tessa’s life now. Tessa: It’s not quite the dance party I was expecting.

Still, there are sweet moments along the way. Erica: Huggles? Alyson: Huggles!

Terence: Huggles? Jacob: DOG FOOD ATTACK RARRRRGH.

Terence: D:

Tessa: Lock my door.

Lisa: I AM NOT- Having a good time? Lisa: GET SOME NEW MATERIAL. Lisa: AND USE IT TO ENTERTAIN ME.

All right, here’s something funny. Lisa: The... nanny? Keep watching.

Nanny: I was so busy potty training the children, I forgot to potty train myself! Lisa: It’s mean, but OK, it’s a little funny. (That’s not all nanny piss btw, I’m just very bad at catching Max in the act.)

Speaking of piss.

Jacob: There there, good potty.

Checo: He can pee in a pot, he’s my favourite now.

Jacob: High chair. Checo: You’re so right!

Lisa, alas, is not enjoying toddlers quite as much. Lisa: I’m too pretty for this.

Erica: RELEASEEEEEE MEEEEEEE!

Terence: Laid a fresh one for you, mom.

Lisa: This is fine.

Tessa: OK, you put your left leg in, your left leg out. In, out, in, out, and shake it all about.

Terence: Sis, hey, sis, hey. Erica: Hush please, I am concentrating.

Terence: That’s right, hand it over. Erica: Oh. I see how it is.

Bath time for stinky boys.

A problem for future Sushi.

At last, the toddler stage is over! Tessa: Do you wanna go first or...? Checo: Oh yeah, sure, no problem.

Checo: But first, let me ogle my wife. Tessa: Soon I will be at university and all of this will be behind me...

First up, Erica! Erica: Yay!

Then Alyson! Checo: Hooray for me! Alyson: Hooray for cake.

Tessa ad Sharla: Happy birthday to the wall!

Next up is Jacob, assuming I haven’t got the names mixed up.

Kennedy: Toot toot.

Jacob: Limbo!

Lisa: Whew, right in the nick of time. Lisa: So long as we ignore the bit where time kept going looping for three hours so I could finish this.

But yes, finally it’s Terence’s turn to grow up.

Benjamin: I’m gonna punch him. Please don’t. Benjamin: Gonna punch him so hard.

Celebrate good times, come on!

Erica: Wait a minute...

Erica: I hate that stupid bear outfit. Alyson: I think he’s hibernating!

Jacob: Does he have to do it at the bottom of the stairs though?

Erica lives at the piano now. Her OTH is Sports.

Tessa: Something about emergencies, I guess.

Lisa: Finally, I can start working on the damn car.

Good Lord.

Let’s have a little playtime interlude.

Mailman: Bills. Erica: Do you accept lemonade? Mailman: Not in exchange for bills. Erica: How about in exchange for money? Mailman: Technically, that is also bills.

Fuck that librarian.

Lisa: Whatever. I’m taking a nap.

Um.

Checo: Hot wife! Freezing cold wife, actually. Wanna do something about that? Checo: Nope!

Why? He hasn’t done anything. Alyson: Yet.

Tessa: Ahhh, dance time!

Chess party.

Gaming party.

Just lots of cute family bonding moments.

Checo: I’m too sexy for my shirt.

Bath time for stinky boys. Which I know I said last time too, but I just really like this pet bath.

Werewolf: Is she OK? No.

Lisa: Zzzz... piss... Checo: On it.

Yeah she might actually die.

Gilbert: Yeah good luck with that.

Lisa: Ugh, what happened? You lost your job and passed out in the absolute worst place possible.

Lisa: I’m freezing! Don’t worry, you’re about to warm yourself up.

Lisa: Eek nooo!

Wanda: HAHAHAHAHA! Lisa: This is because I laughed at the nanny, isn’t it? Yeah, that probably didn’t help.

Anyway, over to Tessa. Tessa: Look, somebody else is pissing themselves! Buck:

Tessa: BAM! In the face!

Decided to check out the furniture store and once again, it is borked. Cashier: It’s Kevin’s fault. Other cashier: Yeah, definitely Kevin.

But you know what? I don’t know how to stop it from happening again, nobody’s got a business LTW anyway, so bye bye business!

Checo: And now to spend the profits.

Lisa: Mmm, that piss puddle really sets the mood. ...There is way too much piss in this update.

If you two make more quads, I will genuinely kill you.

Newspaper kid: Shake? Tessa: Salute.

Tessa: Love love peace peace?

Cute little family dance party. Terence: Except me. Except you.

Jacob: I wanna join in! Go right ahead, sweetie.

Alyson: Are you OK? Terence: Clearly not.

Erica: You might be watching me, but who do you think is watching you? Please don’t, I’m too ill for dep thinking.

Cute!

Please don’t die. Lisa: Frostbite couldn’t do it, and electrocution ain’t gonna do it either.

Weekend! I sent Tessa out to do some singing...

...And then decided to start working on those dance contests for her LTW.

Alas, her first attempt was a failure.

Still, at least she doesn’t take it as badly as this poor townie. Townie: I JUST WANNA DANCE LIKE NO-ONE’S WATCHING! Everyone’s watching. Everyone.

Erica: I’m dying. Alyson: You’re wearing a vest and shorts outside in winter, of course you’re dying.

Alyson: But now, a message about recycling.

Ah how sweet, doomed townie love.

Tessa: Hey, don’t mind me, just gonna practise my moves.

Wait a minute, that looks familiar...

I mean, without the shotgun, but yeah!

And the week ends with Alyson doing a little stargazing. Next up is a single sim household, so hopefully it won’t take me three months to write up. Hopefully!

Uberhood Index

[crushed-starlight]

welcome back to me stealing ideas from @about-the-two-of-us !!

todays episode: i might turn this into a more general digital diary about my social life, rather than focusing so much on crushes. ysee this is what happens when i have to spend a whole half-day without meadow lmao

anyway !! here’s updates :D

meadow went away for the weekend to visit a friend :(( so we couldn't hang out BUT before their train we still went to class together and made jokes about the place they’re visiting and they left their snacks in my bag so i got to see them briefly again to give them back right before they left n we hugged goodbye at the place we first hung out aaaa

that was last weekend, n since then a ton of wild lore has happened !! its been literally 4 days how is any of this real.

monday evening jiji and odie hung out in my dorm and watched some youtube videos from a channel that odie and i rly like that we're trying to introduce jiji to !! those two r always so kind to me im rly glad i have them as friends rn. otherwise the stuff w meadow would be way more taxing i think

tuesday evening i went over to meadow's place after class !! i played a game they introduced me to (they like backseat gaming for this one hehe) and he gave me tons of tips on how to get a good build n i ended up getting further than i ever have before on my last run of the evening !!

and on wednesday (yesterday) meadow and i went on a mini shopping trip after class, then went back to their dorm again for a mini movie marathon !! we got through the first 2 hunger games movies since i hadn't seen them before and meadow is hype to watch the new one that just came out. i rly enjoyed them !! not my favorites ever but i can totally see what the hype is about. and for bonus points, one of my 2 best friends from before uni ,, we'll call them fish (new character alert !!) watched them too super recently so i can talk to them abt it !! fish is the coolest and im gonna be around them more this winter since i'm goin back to their town for a while :D but fr meadow and i watched the first 2 movies in his bed under the covers :,D not quite cuddling bc im a COWARD but squished up next to each other sharing snacks :3 thats still a win in my book !!

aaaaaaaaaaand then came earlier today >< i had a class with goose which was fun but she dipped after that to go study and i walked home alone. when i got back meadow started messaging me that someone they met on their weekend away (a friend of a friend) was messaging them n theyre DOWN BAD. they were GUSHING TO ME AND ITWAS TORTURE i am in actual hell !!!!!!!! turns out hearing ur crush gush about their crush ,, kinda hurts your soul in a way that you feel !! the conversation ended but now im thinkin i should rly confess soon just to save myself the trouble ;; idk how long its healthy to stay in friendship limbo like this.