#rambling about dim path

[lightandfellowship]

Honestly, part of me has wondered for a long time if at some point Xehanort either:

Realized he wasn't the Child of Destiny but still wanted to change the world anyway.

Still thought he was the Child of Destiny but refused that destiny in favor of forging his own destiny with Kingdom Hearts.

It still seems a little strange to me that, according to Player anyway, the Child of Destiny would prevent the "darkness prevail and light expire" prophecy, and yet all of Xehanort's plans revolve around having darkness prevail over light (at least temporarily before he seizes Kingdom Hearts and balances everything). I mean, that's literally what happens in KH3, Xehanort is the cause of darkness prevailing and light expiring and it's Sora who has to undo it. If Xehanort truly thought that he himself was the rightful CoD, why would he consistently choose to take actions that seem to go directly against the CoD prophecy?

Then again, in KH3 the Xehanorts act like they're aware that Sora misused/would misuse the Power of Waking and turn back time, which in turn implies that Sora being the one to undo the last passage was all just according to plan? Ach, it's confusing.

[narwhalandchill]

while i dont think its necessarily like an egregiously offensive blunder by any means like theyve done much worse and it suits the narwhal fine. truly an eng translation moment to call it the all-devouring narwhal for no particular reason when once more every single translation (save for russian for some reason) is star-devouring/-swallowing narwhal/whale like 💀 why do they keep doing this

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | vii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

A heavy breath flows from your lips as you grip the edge of the sink. Your gaze lands on your reflection. Your chest seizes. Your fingers trail the path of bruises and bites Coriolanus scattered on your cheek and neck. A flash of his body shoving yours into the mattress crosses your mind, his throaty moans, his smell clogging your senses. A shiver races along your spine. You step back from the glass until your back collides with the opposite wall. You slump onto the floor. You glance at the bathroom door, thankfully locked. You need a minute on your own. You bury your head between your knees, body shaking as you wrangle with a sudden rush of emotions.

Only vague snippets of the night before remain in your mind. Still, you believed him when he stated you didn’t say no. You’re fairly sure that the word never passed your lips. So how could he divine thoughts you didn’t express? 

Coriolanus isn’t a mind reader.

Especially when you sounded so needy and desperate, rambling about never being kissed.

He probably misread you, assuming this is what you wanted.

In truth, he gave you exactly what you asked for. Perhaps even begged for, though your memory is a little foggy.

You rise on quivering legs, deciding to shelve the upsetting musings aside. You’re a virgin no longer. It’s a good thing…isn’t it? For years, you thought no one wanted you, that you would never experience what others did. That you’re too plain, attractive, weird and awkward. And you suppose, in his own way, Coriolanus proved you wrong last night. You keep convincing yourself of that, playing the words in an assuaging loop as you shed the dress and step into the shower stall.

The scalding water pelting your skin casts a balm over your stormy thoughts. You hiss when it stings in certain places, the ones where Coriolanus left marks that are still visible.

Your gaze drifts down. As you watch blood trickle from between your thighs and swirl down the drain, your stomach clutches. 

You cling to the bathroom tiles, breaths growing heavier. 

Panic escalates inside you. For a few minutes, you remain this way. Steam surrounds you as you spread your fingers over the wall. Hot tears drip down your cheeks, melding with the water sliding along your bruised flesh. 

By the time you step out of the stall, your skin is pruned from how much time you spent in the shower. Much longer than usual. Furiously rubbing and scrubbing at your flesh, as if your shame and disillusionment could be washed off like grime and dirt. Shaken off like a bad dream or a pesky thought.

When you trudge outside of the bathroom in your robe, Coriolanus is on the bed, waiting for you as he said he would. You fidget beneath his stare. He rises and approaches you.

“I should probably take a shower too. I’m filthy,” he observes, his nose scrunching as he sniffs his shirt. 

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll…get dressed.”

You try not to flinch when he drops a quick, chaste kiss atop your head. 

“Thanks, angel.” 

He disappears in the bathroom. The pitter-patter of the shower fills the room, ropes of steam escaping through the crack at the bottom of the door. Your shoulders sag. You allow yourself to relax, using that reprieve to sift through your clothes until you find a decent outfit. Your spirits dim. The state of your closet is beyond desolate. It didn’t bother you before. After all, no one cared what you wore. But now, you realize how much it matters. You don’t want to be a blight upon Coriolanus’ perfect image. He’s always dressed so well.  

After a lengthy internal debate, you settle on a long, black dress at the very bottom of your wardrobe. One you bought on a whim but wouldn’t have worn in a million years before. Elegant, flowy and flaring at the waist. You’re grateful for the long sleeves and high collar that will conceal the marks Coriolanus left on your skin. 

You don’t want anyone to see. And, if possible, you don’t want anyone to know.

It likely was a one time thing. After all, Coriolanus has his pick of girls from Uni to choose from. So many who have been batting their eyelashes at him since the year began. He’d never go for someone like you. No, he’d rather court somebody like Livia or Persephone. Even Clemmie would be a far better match for him. 

It must be as he explained. He got lost in the moment. You surmise this happens sometimes when people are drunk. They do things they wind up regretting afterwards. 

You go to your bedroom door, bemused when you find it locked. 

As soon as the door opens, Walter leaps into your arms. He meows loudly, rubbing his face against yours while licking his paws. You chuckle. 

“Hey, buddy. Let’s get some food in you, okay?”

You pad across the living room with Walter clinging to your neck. You grimace as you walk, an ache still radiating in your lower body whenever you move. 

You note that his bowl is still half-full, meaning that Coriolanus must have fed him like you asked. A sliver of relief flutters through you. You felt so guilty for not returning home earlier. The ginger ball of fur is reluctant to part from you, his claws sinking into your collarbone.

“Walter,” you admonish. “I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.” 

He ends up allowing you to put him down. You sigh as you fill his bowl with dry meat and fish leftovers. You know how anxious Walter can get when you’re not around. You sometimes wonder if it’s because of the time he spent in your mother’s lab, being poked and prodded. Does his memory even go that far back? You genuinely hope not, a shudder coursing through you at the knowledge of how your mother treats her test subjects.

You stroke his fur as he bends down to eat. The familiar softness beneath your fingertips soothes you. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the muffled steps creeping behind you.

“Should we go now?”

You bolt upright, startled by Coriolanus’ abrupt  presence.

“Sure,” you mutter. 

The corners of his lips quirk upward.

“You look pretty,” he says, prowling forward.

“T-Thank you,” you stammer in response.

Without thinking, you stagger backward, your stomach flipping when he matches your steps. Your back hits the counter. 

The blond crowds your space, placing his hands on each side of the countertop. Your heart misses a beat beneath his ponderous scrutiny. 

He cocks his head, his index finger outlining the buttons of your collar.

“It looks a bit uptight though, doesn’t it?” Amusement sways in his cobalt orbs. “Why cover so much skin?”

He flicks the first two buttons with his finger and the top of your collar comes loose, revealing some of the hickeys on your neck. Gasping in shock, you rush to button it back.

“Coriolanus…” you chastise.

He snatches your wrists before you can fix your dress, his intense gaze ensnaring yours.

“Are you trying to hide them?” 

Fire blooms in your cheeks.

“I don’t want people to see and gossip,” you reply quietly.

When he inches closer, his potent scent fills your nostrils.

“Let them gossip. Only useless people do that.” His inflection is dismissive, final. His smile broadens. “You shouldn’t hide. You and I had a wonderful time. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“O-Okay.”

He leans to plant a soft, slow kiss on your lips.

He strokes the side of your head. Long, lithe fingers attach to your collar. He undoes more buttons until a hint of cleavage is exposed. You don’t protest or argue this time, girdling your breath until he’s done. His eyes roam over you, satisfaction lighting his handsome features.

His voice is silky smooth as it pours from his lips.

“There. Much better.”

Just like last time, Coriolanus opens the door of his car for you. 

“Climb in, angel,” he whispers against your ear, making your heart race.

For a while, he drives while humming a soft tune to himself. You twine your hands in your lap, lost in the mayhem of your thoughts. You try to bury last night as far in the depths of your mind as you can, loathing the tendrils of dread coiling around your insides every time a sliver of remembrance slips through. It’s a brand new day. You must look ahead.

Astonishment slithers through you when you realize Coriolanus is headed towards the Corso.

Your head snaps up.

“I thought we were going to the city.”

“We'll stop by the penthouse first.” He turns to you. “I need to change, and check on the Grandma’am.”

“The Grandma’am?”

A soft smile hovers on his lips.

“My grandmother. I live with her and my cousin.”

Your brows knit. Right. Tigris Snow, you believe her name is. You may have seen her and Coriolanus together before. You always thought that was his sister. They both don the signature Snow blonde hair and blue eyes and share the same towering stature.

“Oh. You’re lucky,” you say absently.

He tosses you an inquisitive glance.

“Lucky?”

“To live with your family.” A forlorn smile spreads onto your face, your head dipping. “My mother she’s…she’s never around.”

His brows crumple.

“Truly, never?”

“Never.”

“What about your father?”

Your heart sinks to your feet.

“He…He’s never had any interest in being in my life. He left when I was a baby. Mother says he hates the Capitol and left to start a new life in District One.”

His hand drops over your thigh. His fingers caress you gently as he says, “I’m so sorry, angel. You deserved better, from both of them.”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the prickling in your chest.

“It’s fine. I can’t miss someone I’ve never met.”

His gaze locks with yours.

“Still, it had to be tough, without your parents.”

Uncomfortable, you veer the topic in his direction.

“What about yours?”

You don’t recall ever seeing his parents around either. Neither at the Academy. Nor that first day at the University. Just that statuesque blonde girl around his age you are fairly sure was his cousin.

Coriolanus’ cheek flares, his face hardening.

“Both were killed by rebels…in different ways.”

“Different ways?”

“Yes. My father died while serving and my mother…” He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again. When he speaks again, his tone is icier. “She bled out in labor because of those damn rebels.” You flinch, floored by the sheer rancor bleeding in his voice. His lips tighten. “Both she and…my little sister died.”

Your mouth drops. Coriolanus must have been so young when it happened. You and your mother aren’t close, but you can’t picture your life without her in it. Coriolanus lost his so soon and clearly had so much fondness for her. A wave of sympathy fills you. 

“That’s awful. I don’t…I don’t have any words,” you say, tentatively covering his hand with yours. He surprises you by lacing your fingers together. 

“None are needed,” he replies tonelessly. He turns his focus back onto the road, concluding in a matter-of-fact inflection, “It’s why we need the Games. To keep those filthy district rats in their place.”

Your mouth clamps shut. You don’t believe in the Games, finding them needlessly cruel. But your mother and Coriolanus do, actively working together to raise the viewership for next year. 

A wave of queasiness swells within you. 

Silence hangs between you and the blond, not another word leaving your mouths until he arrives at his home.

Coriolanus takes your hand and drags you inside. The two of you make your way through the lobby and up the twelve ornate flights of stairs leading to the Snows’ penthouse. You get lost in the gold and blue patterns swirling beneath your feet.

When he crosses the apartment threshold, he tells you to wait for him and takes long strides towards what you assume must be his bedroom.

You awkwardly linger by the entrance, your eyes meandering about. Everything looks recently renovated, a veil of tarp hanging by a glass window where some construction still seems underway. You step further inside, pacing across the living room while waiting for Coriolanus.

“Hi, I don’t believe we met.”

You whirl, blinking at the appearance of a stunning, slender blonde bearing an eerie resemblance to Coriolanus.

She smiles at you. You relax, gathering that this must be the cousin he mentioned. Tigris Snow.

“We haven’t,” you say.

She studies you. “You must be something special for Coriolanus to bring you around.”

“I-I doubt it,” you reply with a shrug.

She shakes her head.

“My cousin’s never brought any other girls here. Some friends visited but…no one like you.”

“No one like me?”

Sadness flickers over her delicate features briefly before she approaches you.

“Just be careful with him, okay?” she whispers, her voice hushed and secretive, almost as if she dreaded being heard. Her gaze lingers on your neck, a frown forming on her brow. “You just seem so nice and sweet. And Coriolanus he…He’s changed a lot lately. So promise me to take care of yourself.”

You’re stumped at first. It seems such a strange thing to say about her own cousin to a perfect stranger. Your forehead creases.

“Changed in what way?” you can’t help but ask.

Her mouth opens to form a reply but the loud clearing of someone’s throat forestalls whatever she was about to say.

You both whip your heads at the same time.

“Tigris,” Coriolanus says tersely while smoothing the cuffs of his shirt. He’s wearing a fresh new suit, his platinum locks neatly slicked back as always. “I see you two met.”

Tigris blanches. She gives you a quick hug.

“I hope to see you again,” she says before scampering out of the room.

“Me too,” you respond, still perplexed by the peculiar exchange.

Coriolanus turns to you.

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course. Why?”

He takes a step forward, a strange look on his face you can’t read.

“Tigris didn’t say anything strange to you, did she?”

“No, nothing,” you instantly reply. You kick yourself inwards. Why did you lie? You can’t even say yourself. Pure instinct drove the answer out of you.

He tilts up your chin, his intense blue eyes plunging into yours.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, angel? If she said something, I mean.”

The drumming of your heart grows deafening.

You yield beneath the weight of his unflinching stare, words tearing from your tongue in a nervous heap.

“She told me to be careful,” you confess.

He snickers. But even as he laughs, you note the way his gaze hardens ever-so-slightly. He doesn’t like that Tigris said that to you, you realize. You should have kept your mouth shut.

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip.

“I’m glad that you told me,” he croons, his tone much softer than before. “I hope you know that you can trust me, angel. Always.”

“I know,” you mumble, sinking in the sea of his gaze as he cradles your face.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Marauder.

There are so many rules in this world. So many shackles to keep him down.

Let nothing obstruct his errant path.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

A fish is bound to the water his entire life.

It’s not a life for him.

Floyd is on his back, set adrift in the face of the Coral Sea. His hands cradle the back of his head, and he finds himself staring up. A flock of birds form an arrow, slicing through the sky. He wonders where they're going, what they'll do there.

Some merpeople dreamed of trading scales for skin, but Floyd thinks about giving up his fins for feathers. A pair of wings with which to witness all manner of strange things…

He chuckles soft.

Wouldn't that be so freeing?

“Eheheh. I wanna try it, too! Wait up for me, birds. Here I come…!”

Floyd rights himself and dives unto the frigid waters. His powerful tail undulates like a teal ribbon, propelling him after and faster. He steadily gains, chasing the shadows of the birds that skim the surface of his home turf.

Floyd approaches, lifting himself toward the shimmering boundary between sea and sky. A second later, he breaks through with a mighty splash.

His body elegantly arcs in the leap. He’s a skipping dolphin, a flying fish.

Free.

Floyd launches higher and higher, zipping past the flock. He collides with some birds, screeching with laughter as they spin like cars out of control.

Here come the clouds now—he easily bursts through them. They’re made of cool and fine-grained beads of water, refreshing him as he flies.

And higher still he goes, the sky dimming, a gradient of light to dark.

Floyd is among the stars, each twinkling like diamonds in greeting. The planets, like massive globes of sugar orbiting him.

The eel is weightless, effortlessly floating through space. With his arms, he paddles--and though there should be no gravity, the space warps and gives like water, letting him sail as smoothly as a ship after a storm.

He reaches out and plucks a star out of the cosmos, giving it a curious lick. The taste is like sweetened milk, and so he pops the entire thing into his mouth.

Then begins his descent.

At the peak of his jump, surrounded by the stars, he bends downward and plunges.

But there are no longer any waters waiting for him.

He crashes through a canopy of leaves. They scatter like papers, raining down verdant, brown, scarlet, tangerine, and gold. Sunlight pierces them, giving each a magical glow.

Roots come, skittering by him like a snake might slink. Thin tendrils extend from them, brushing his face.

Maybe there is some other name for them? Hyph-something, myce-whatever. Floyd does not care to remember his twin's excitable rambling.

Alarmingly, he spies an ugly bulbous cap poking out from a root. His nose crinkles with disgust.

Shiitake mushroom.

Floyd paddles through the fungi and plants, the scent of dirt and chlorophyll filling his nostrils. It's fresh and green mixed with damp and earthy, nothing like the salty smell of the sea.

Jade would like this, he thinks.

Daisies push through, their petals tickling his skin. He takes a shaky breath, holds, shakes again, and...

Sneezes!!

A great gale is unleashed, clearing his surroundings in an instant. Floyd is sent flying up, up, and away--

He shoots out of the dunes. Sand scatters from the force he emerges with, throwing particle clouds up into the air. Floyd flails, trying to balance his body. No use--he flops uselessly under the pull of gravity.

A scream rips from his throat. Not of terror, but of joy.

The landscape unfolds into a sandy expanse. In the distance, he sees an oasis guarded by palm trees. And below, a great city crowning the desert.

There are bright tents and stalls pitched, merchants hawking their wares. Vases and lamps with unique patterns, ripe fruits, adornments in a variety of designs.

Families and friends mill about in the packed marketplace, satisfied with their mundane lives, the schedules they keep. So content, so peaceful.

Floyd grins.

And he lets himself plummet straight into a stall.

The weight of him collapses it with a loud THUD. The merchant looks on, horrified, and his circle of customers gasp, putting distance between themselves and Floyd. Sticky with fruit juices, he removes the strand of black hair that clings to his cheek.

"Eh, guess it could be worse," Floyd shrugs, tossing off a chunk of watermelon sitting like a hat on his head. A line of juice dribbles down his forehead.

He notices the crowd staring and wiggles his tail in a casual pseudo-wave. One person immediately faints--but luckily, they're caught by a concerned onlooker.

"Riffraff!" the merchant shouts, waving a fist. "Scoundrel!! I demand compensation for what you've wrecked!"

Floyd rolls his eyes. He sounds like Azul.

The eel hauls himself off the pile of fruit--and peels right past the feet of the customers. The merchant's face heats.

"Guards! GUARDS!! Come quickly, HELP!! There's a sea monster on the loose!!"

Floyd rapidly drags himself across the market, digging his talons into the ground, his tail pushing him forward. He gleefully writhes as people scream and flee, clearing a path for him. His laugh, cackling.

He's at the waterways that thread the city when heavy footsteps spill into the street.

"He went that way!!"

Floyd doesn't look back before he dives back into his natural element.

The water welcomes him, its streams washing off the sand that paints his skin, loosening the hair that clumped from fruit juices. A tender kiss, a kind hand.

He has returned to the sea.

The channel goes deeper than Floyd thinks. It widens, becoming an entire ocean bathed in sunlight. A coral reef teeming with life stretched out below him, and when he runs his hand along it, tiny seahorses escape and trail bubbles.

He turns his head this way--a school of rainbow tropical fish race by. The other way, a band is in full swing. A carp on the harp, the plaice on the bass, bass on brass.

Floyd twirls as he passes, happily humming along to the tune. The music wraps around him, giving a warm embrace. He almost misses his name being called, almost forgets himself.

"... od....... loyd... Floyd! There you are."

A face that matches his appears beside him. He is followed by a boy with lilac skin, a series of squirming tentacles at his beck and call.

“Where did you vanish off to?” Jade asks. “Azul and I were starting to get worried about your whereabouts. Weren’t we, Azul?”

“I’m more concerned for the places he visits rather than Floyd himself. Who knows how much collateral damage he could cause unsupervised,” the octopus merman grumbles.

“Oya, Azul… Could it be that you lack faith in Floyd? Even though he has unquestionably served you since middle school?"

"You're saying strange things again. I recall him losing interest and changing his mind last minute more often than 'unquestionably serving'." Azul raises a brow. "So? Where were you all this time?"

Floyd flings himself at the duo, slinging his arms around their shoulders and pulling them close.

"F-Floyd?! What is the meaning of this?" Azul sputters, struggling against his binds.

"I was everything and everywhere all at once," he responds with a laugh. "I was as free as a bird! I'll tell you guys about it~"

"Fufu, it sounds as though you've been away on quite an adventure. We would, of course, be more than happy to hear of your escapades."

[cjayius]

only if — jang wonyoung

⭑ you're just like an angel . friend!wonyoung + fem!reader . wc 0.26k

in the dim light of her room, you glance at wonyoung's perfectly sculpted features, illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through the curtains.

her head is resting on your shoulder as she rambles on about some guy, her voice soft and filled with such adoration. as she continues to talk, you can't help but feel a pang of weariness wash over you.

how many times have you listened to her talk about someone else ? how many nights have you spent silently longing for her to notice you ? how many times has your heart been broken by her ?

unable to hear his name fall from her tinted lips any longer, you interrupt her mid-sentence. " won, " you whisper, voice low but tinged with frustration, " i'm tired of hearing about him. "

she pauses, gazing at you, confusion clouding her features. " w-what do you mean ? have i been talking too long, ynnie ? " her tone was laced with uncertainty, and as she looked at you with those big eyes of hers, god, you swore you could do anything for her.

your heart clenches at the sight of her, " no, i- " your words are caught in your throat as her eyes search yours. " it's nothing, i'm just tired. i think i'll head home, kay ? "

as you turn to leave, wonyoung's confusion is evident in her expression. she reaches out, her hand tentative as she tries to grasp yours, but you pull away gently, a sad smile playing on your lips.

" wonyoung. not today, alright ? " you murmur softly, your voice carried a hint of resignation.

you feel your heart hurt as you step back from her, and out of her room, bag clutched tightly in your grasp. a lone tear escapes your eye, tracing a wet path down your cheek as you silently wished for things to be different.

if only she would ever look at you. if only she saw you for who you truly were.

if only she loved you.

[insomniphic]

FOR THE DAILY ONE-SHOT VALENTINES WEEK SPECIAL

Tried to finish this today but couldn’t so I guess we’re doing the second part tomorrow 🤷‍♀️

‼️Reminder that these One-shots are NOT CANON whatsoever.‼️

<— Prev

DAY 2: STARS (Part 1)

“I promise you, Narry. The sights here are great!” His lover rambled on, clasping onto his hand as they dragged him down the pebble road, talking over the sound of rocks shuffling underneath their weight — blending well with the crickets hidden in the grass, and forest, that bordered them from the town. “And I double, double, checked the weather today, just to make sure. It’s clear skies!” They craned their neck to grin, the soft glow emitting from him creating a warm portrait that he’ll imprint in his mind forever; just like every other moment.

“You seem pretty happy that ‘stargazing’ won on the wheel of mundane dates tonight.” Narry laughed, giving their hand a gentle squeeze as he swayed his other arm that held the bag carrying their essentials.

“So what? It was my idea.” They chuckled, decelerating their eager pace to stride along with their partner.

“Hey now, I’m not denying that it’s a great idea.” Narry hummed leaning to their side to give them a quick kiss on the temple. “Believe me when I say that I’m just as excited.”.

Stars out of all things. He’s got his fair share of experiences with “stars”. In fact, the most logical explanation for his identity, as a being, would be to call him as one of those specks out there.

Narry huffed, a small attempt to hide a random chuckle. It’s taking a lot out of him to not say something his lover would categorize as “cringey”:

“Why look at all of that stellar activity when I’m right here?” Or maybe something else like, “Am I not the light of your life, already?”

Ah… he could already see the eye roll and the incoming punch to the shoulder — all while talking about how stupid his attempt to flirt is. Sadly, he’ll have to hold that idea back for a future moment. His beloved seems quite eager to make this opportunity special for them.

His eyes change focal points from the dim green path, to up at the musty clouds of gray covering any of the beauty. He strained his eyes as far as he could and noticed the awaited empty patch of clouds coming to blow their way. A speed that would take longer than it should. A gust whistles past them and he takes his attention away from the observation, listening back in on his jewel’s ramblings. He’ll save those worries for later.

“—I mean how could I not be excited, honestly? You cooked the meal for tonight, we’re out of town to the point where it’s quite, we get to experience some nature, I get to be with you and do the things I’ve always wanted to do,” they listed, a warm smile widening on their face as the reasonings became more heartfelt than the last word, and Narry couldn’t help but blink and gape his mouth slightly in awe. Sometimes he forgets that affection exists; that he’s capable of it. And with his lover saying those kinds of lovey-dovey things? He’ll be quickly reminded.

Narry shuts his parted lips and pries his hand away from their hand just to run it up their back and wrap his arm around their shoulder, pulling them into where they have to trot with a slight tilt. “Do you know how much I love you?” He whispered against their hair.

They quiet down, the crunching of the gravel echoing louder during that moment of silence. “No, I don’t need to know,” they began, “I’m just happy to hear that you know how much you love me,” they smiled contentedly as they came closer to the hill.

“I do.”

===

Next —>

[eternally-frozen]

A deer in the headlights

Synopsis: You date doesn’t show up after hours of you waiting. In frustration you drive over to Pantalone’s house, knowing he’ll always comfort you. Little did you keep in mind that deers run around at this time of the year.

Warning: Yandere, car crash, implicated kidnapping/human trafficking, Pantalone is rich, dead/mangled body 

Note: I am back. For now...

Special thanks to @teabutmakeitazure​. You’re amazing and a literal angel. Thank you for reading through this and telling me it’s not shit XD

"Hey, it’s me. Your phone has been on voicemail for a while now – you’re probably asleep, but I'm almost at your house. I know, I know, I shouldn't come to your house in the middle of the night but once again, you were right."

There is a short silence. The road ahead is barely lit up and abandoned for the most part. It’s no surprise that the banker lives in a big house isolated from the busy capital.

"It’s really annoying y’know. I wish I could see through people like you do."

You sigh. You’re rambling again, how embarrassing. 

You hope Pantalone leaves his voicemails unread, but you know better.

“Anyways, I’m almost at your home. I got the key to the gates, so I’m entering your property. Sorry, not sorry.”

There is a short silence before you end the voicemail. You previously had the phone on loudspeaker, and although you know you shouldn’t drive and call, the road to Pantalone’s home was – and will always be – abandoned.

You’ve never seen a single car on this road.

Your headlights illuminate the black road more than the dim lights on the side of the path do.

Hours before you'd been getting ready for a date that ended up ghosting you. It wasn't the first time you'd been in a fancy restaurant either. Nowadays the dating apps had been full of losers that'd leave you without ever showing up.

Not to mention how awkward you felt when you arrived at the restaurant sitting alone for an hour or so on the table hired for two.

You wonder why those assholes bother at all to reserve tables when they're never planning to show up.

The ride is silent and your thoughts feel like they’re getting louder and louder. You still somewhat await a call from him. If it turns out he'd really been asleep you'd feel extremely guilty to bother him for something as stupid as being abandoned on your first date.

The longer you think about it, the better the idea of adopting a cat sounds.

As you continue forward, the gates surrounding property come in sight. 

It still surprises you how much he owns. He lives miles away from his neighbor. He's got a charming personality but he always seemed to appreciate the quiet over the chaos in the capital of Snezhnaya.

You can't blame him.

As your car rides past the open gates the forest part of his property comes in view. Or, that’s the best way to describe it at least. A hundred meters filled with trees and nature before you actually approach his house.

Your frown turns into a smile when you hear the upbeat tune of your ringtone.

“Pantalone!” You hold your phone to your mouth.

“Darling, would you be so kind to tell me where are you right now?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Did or did you not listen to the voicemail.” You ask. If he asks you that question he surely already knew you were on the way, but in your voicemail you had told him you’d be approaching his house, and that was a few minutes ago.

You heat some voices in the background on his end of the call. In confusion you take your eyes off the road, adjusting your volume to hear him better.

“Are you busy?”

You take a quick look forward and then turn back to your phone again.

In a split second you hear a crash. You let go of the gas button and the hand that had still been on the steering wheel drifts to your right side until the car crashes into yet another force.

You momentarily are stuck unable to breath, the wind got pushed out of your lungs and you have trouble to fully grasp what had happened.

Did a deer wander around his property..?

“Y/n!” You hear Pantalone’s voice through your phone from a distance. Did your phone get thrown back to the back or front during your crash?

He seems to be talking to some other people.

The voices from the phone make your head throb louder and you find yourself climbing out of your seat.

Just walk it off, walk it off.

Your body sways and you put your hand onto your car to keep yourself upright.

When you look at the front window of you car you realise that the window had broken into millions of pieces. They litter the inside of your car and the outside. There’s blood as well. You don’t feel pain, is it the adrenaline?

Right.

The deer.

You continue to block out the voices coming from your phone as you make your way around the car, still one of your hands pushed against it, until you’re facing the road.

Now that your car is facing the trees it’s hard to make out what’s on the street.

Still, it’s hard to miss the silhouette crawling forward.

You lift a hand to your head.

A silhouette?

You blink a few times. The world is still spinning and you force your eyes closed for a few moments. The voices in the background become louder and louder, making your head hurt more and more. Your body starts to feel less warm and pain suddenly floods over your being.

The silhouette on the floor is still there when you open your eyes.

It seems to be crawling forward away from the house.

Right…

Pantalone.

You turn around back to the car. You need to let him know to call for an ambulance.

A light blinds your face and your headache becomes unbearable until it moves away from you.

When you follow the light you see the girl crawling forward on the pavement.

Her clothes are ripped, blood pools up around the middle of her body and she seems awfully skinny, underweight even.

Did you hit…

“Y/n.” Pantalone shields the sight from you with his body and his eyes move over your body.

“Can you move?” He asks.

His figure is hazy, you see his head move around but you can’t see where he’s looking at. You don’t really process what he’s saying any more.

“Let’s get you inside, alright?”

He seems calm…so, you’re fine.

Pantalone wouldn’t lie to you.

You got into a car crash because you hit a deer and in shock you ran into a tree, you hit your head and now you’re dizzy.

Simple.

A hand moves you forward and you follow. You see many lights as you continue forward, you hear many voices too, but Pantalone’s is next to you. His warmth makes you continue forward.

•

The next time you open your eyes, you’re in Pantalone’s room.

You know this because he once showed you his collection of Liyuen jewerly after you couldn’t decide whether to get it yourself or some from Inazuma.

The sun is up and your headache has died down. When you look outside you can see that the sun is above the horizon. It looks like it’s the late morning already.

You think of last night.

You can clearly remember the date-gone-wrong, the crash too, but you can’t recall how you got to Pantalone’s house. Did you pass out?

You know you shouldn’t have called without driving, and you know you shouldn’t have assumed his roads would be abandoned as always,

But…

Was it really a deer that got in your way..?

As you shovel through your memories, you hear Pantalone enter the room unannounced. His expression shifts from a frown to something you’d describe as relief.

He apologises for entering before knocking.

“It’s alright. I’m the one who should say sorry. I…”

You frown, trying to remember what happened. “I can remember crashing my car but anything after that is fuzzy.” You stop for another moment, “It’s like my brain stopped working.”

Pantalone sits down on the edge of the bed and he places his hand near yours. “The doctors told me you had a concussion. Nothing time can’t fix, but you should remain here in my care until you’ve fully healed.”

You put your hands up in a defending motion and give an chuckle. “I’ve already made a big enough mess. I wouldn’t want to bother you more.”

You place your hands down onto the blanket that covers your legs. You are dressed in an oversized pajama, you assume it’s Pantalone’s, and you wonder where your own clothes are.

Pantalone tilts his head and eyes you over his glasses. You know that look, he’s sent it many times before when you told him you met yet another seemingly perfect guy. It’s a look that warns you, something to remind you of the reality.

He places his hand on yours, you realise he’s wearing gloves today, and he squeezes gently.

“You can depend on me, my dear. I’ve already informed my costumers that meetings in my house will be put off for the upcoming week.”

You sigh, a mix of disappointment in yourself and frustration.

“I’m really sorry. I know I shouldn’t call and drive but-“ You groan in frustration, bringing your knees to your chest and burying you head into your hands. “I just didn’t realise deers can waltz into your property.”

You fling your hand forward in frustration. “Just my luck.”

It’s silent for a moment and you grow nervous thinking Pantalone might be mad. When you lift your head up from your knees you look up at him.

He has one of his hands under his chin. He appears to be lost in thought, slightly frowning and lips pursed.

“Pantalone?”

His head moves to turn towards you. His frown turns into a soft smile and he puts his hand on your knee. “Just thinking.”

He continues, “I’ll make sure to fix everything for you. In the meantime, take some time to rest, my dear. I shall be here if you need anything.”

You nod and he stands up, patting your knee affectionately before he disappears back into the corridor.

As much as his presence calms you, you have a certain feeling of dread.

You’re missing something.

You try to sum up last night’s events one more time.

Date, he doesn’t show up, you decide to go to Pantalone instead of home, you cant reach him, you leave a voicemail… He calls back and you crash when you adjust your volume.

Why did you adjust your volume?

The background noise.

Right, you adjusted the volume and looked away, but you didn’t crash into the tree immediately. Something ran from the woods into the street, right where you were riding.

You remember vaguely getting out of the car, but you’re uncertain.

‘At least I’m not hurt.’

When you try to go back to sleep you find yourself unable to. A vague imagine of a mangled body comes up in your mind over and over again.

You sit up and hoist the covers from your form.

Pantalone always favored exported silk and rich feathered blankets and pillows. When you step out of his bed you’re met with the cruel winter cold.

It’s almost enough to keep you forever in his bed.

But curiosity takes over your body and you find yourself walking over to the window.

The curtains are closed but you lift one side.

In the sunlight the main road is visible up till it reaches the gate.

Your car is gone,

But you see the long trail of blood on the street.

The imagine of the mangled woman pops up in your head once more. Her dirty and worn out clothes, her leg that had been twisted at an inhumane angle, her bones that stuck out from beneath her skin.

“Y/n.”

You let the curtain fall from your grasp and you turn around.

Another flash pops up in your mind. You remember the man that walked up to you with the flashlight, the other people who Pantalone yelled at, the way the woman started begging for her life when one of the men crushed her skull with his boot.

Two hands place themselves sturdy on your shoulders. You snap out of your shock and you jolt backwards, or you try to. Pantalone’s hands keep you in place.

His expression is calm, friendly, as ever. His eyes remain closed and he users you back to his bed, telling you that you’re still unwell and that you need rest.

You ask him about the woman.

“My dear, whatever you think you saw, you brain is shaken from the crash. When I, alone, came to your car you were already passed out. I ended up calling one of my friends who works as a vet to pick up the dead dear and another friend to take your car away.”

He gently brushes his fingers from your forehead to your cheek before placing them at his side once more.

“The doctors already told me something like this might happen.”

He looks solemnly down at you.

“That, my dear, is why you should stay here. I can take care of you until you’re healed.”

You nod your head. It’s slow and unsure, but you nod and place your trust in Pantalone. You’ve been friends for so long… He wouldn’t lie to you.

You laugh shortly.

“Why would there be a woman running around at night on your property anyways.”

He opens his eyes halfway.

“Right.”

[hom3land3r]

//Saw that there was a massacre going on and decided this would be a good idea for an angsty thread//

Someone was trying to get all of the Anons and workers out of Vought Tower. Homelander was on a rampage.

It was a vigilante that had been dubbed Eagle due to their white uniform and full face mask, and their ability to fly.

They had somehow gotten into Vought Tower and were evacuating everyone. They were in Homelander's way.

When the hero confronts them, there is a battle where Homelander tries to kill Eagle and Eagle defends themself.

Suddenly, Homelander gets a lucky shot and fires his laser, one beam hits Eagle in the side, and the other slices open their mask.

Due to Eagel being a supe, it doesn't cut them in half. But the wounds do bleed. Blood seeps into the white fabric on their side and there is now a massive gash across their nose and face.

Eagle's burning mask is torn off, revealing blonde hair.

Homelander watches as Ryan raises his head, one hand on his bleeding side and one hand covering the wound on his face, blood leaking through his fingers, dripping down his wrist and onto the floor. Blue eyes glowing (not literally, at least not yet) in nothing but fury.

"You....monster...." Ryan snarls.

- The Butcher Campbell Siblings ((I know we got like three threads going so feel free to ignore me if that's too much lol))

Homelander couldn’t help it. He’d been pushed to the brink, pushed past his limits. He’d warned them, warned them what would happen if they went too far. But they didn’t listen. No, they kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing…

And then had the nerve to scream for help like they were the innocent ones.

Homelander didn’t care. He had no mercy left. He’d been driven insane, pushed into a blood rage that couldn’t be contained. He lasered everything and anything in his path, not caring about the destruction he left in his wake.

It felt fucking good.

But there was always someone that had to ruin the fun. Some white-clad asshole who thought they were some big shot taking on the Homelander. Oh, he was about to prove them very, very wrong. Lucky for the stragglers left in the tower, they were all but forgotten as the Supe’s focus shifted onto the poor bastard who thought himself a hero.

They fought, and it became clear quickly that this random had been trained. He was good. Very good.

But Homelander was better.

The mask was annoying him, and so he was sure to burn the fucking thing right off with his lasers after a not so friendly welcome hit to the white-clad bastard’s side. Homelander smirked, proud of himself as he slowly walked toward the hero, intent on dealing the final blow.

…But then Ryan was looking at him. And he was hurt. He was…covered in blood. How the fuck did that happen? What was he doing here in the middle of a figh— oh.

Oh. Fuck.

Homelander’s eyes bulged in shock and pure horror, the red instantly dimming as he began to panic. “Ryan? What are you doing here? I don’t…n-no, this can’t be happening. I’d never hurt you. I’d never fight you. I-…this is some sort of trick.” The Supe rambled as he began to tremble, unable to believe that he had in fact fought and hurt his own son.

//No, no. You’re fine. I love this idea! Sorry this took a bit to get to!

[wackulart]

It'd be interesting to see you try your hand at horror themed "Philip meets monster belos" sort of thing, a bit of "look at what you will become in the future"

ITS BEEN A MINUTE

Let's see if I can finally get these requests done

[Philip Wittebane]

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall ----------------------------

Philip believed he had earned a proper night's sleep.

After such a horrid week, all he wanted was to shut his eyes and drift off into the night. He tossed down his satchel and sat on the floor. He began to rifle through it, pulling out a jacket he had stolen and placing it down on the cave floor. He laid onto the ground, shutting his eyes and sighing.

As he began to settle himself, he heard the sounds of muffled annoyance.

With a sigh, his eyes fluttered open. He reached for the satchel to pull out the round glass disc adorned with a moon symbol. The second he had, the shadow child flew around the room.

"Another cave? Aww man, can't we go to a waterfall or something next time?" The collector whined.

Philip pinched his nose bridge in frustration. "Collector, please. I am looking to get some rest as of right now."

The child pouted and their shadow bounced onto the floor in front of where the human sat. They tapped the tips of their fingers together as they tried to makeshift large adorable eyes.

They made sure to add a dramatic sniff. "But I'll be so bored if you sleep now, can't we play at least one game?"

It took all of the human's strength to not shatter the disc right then and there. Philip had no desire to sit there and entertain this child, he wanted to sleep on the cave floor and push through the next day like any other. Looking down at the shadow, a simple no almost left him before he groaned.

Philip lifted one finger up, the collector immediately understood the sign as permission, spinning around a few times before crying out excitedly and rambling about a list of games that could be played.

"In exchange," The human began. "You will teach me another spell."

The collector hummed for a moment, shrugging right after. "Mmm, okay! First we play though!"

Unfortunately they had played a game of hide and seek, Philip of course having to find Collector in a dark cave. His only source of light being from the torch he brought to find the cave in the first place.

He had to look for a shadow in a dark cave with nothing but a dim flame.

Why did he ever agree to this?

No longer wanting to waste any more time than he had to, he began walking through the cave.

Philip moved the torch as he stepped, lighting up hidden cracks and crevices of the cave. There wasn't much effort as the human had already been rather exhausted.

A few more steps and he already found himself tempted to simply ask if they could do this in the morning. The only thing preventing it was his desperate need for knowledge, he couldn't help his pursuit. When there was so much to learn, how could one simply close their mind to it?

Perhaps he could receive a hint.

He opened up his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it as he heard loud thumping a few feet back from where he had been. Philip turned to it and realized that the landscape had somehow changed. The entrance where he walked had disappeared into a much longer path that was shrouded in darkness.

Confusion took hold as he ran to the wall of the cave and lit up the path. His light seemed to have no effect however as if it were a magical sort of darkness. The man stumbled backwards as he felt completely disoriented by what was going on.

Before he could think any longer, the thumping returned this time from the other side of the cave. Panic setting in finally, he whipped around and held the torch in front of him defensively. The flame nearly flickered out from the speed of his turn, but rekindled after a moment.

What was going on?

"Collector?" Philip called out with a nervous wavering in his voice. "I don't appreciate this sort of humour if this is what you believe is a joke!"

His voice merely echoed throughout the cave, returning back to him. Though he could have sworn he heard another voice just beneath the echo. Something deeper, something ragged and aged.

Something monstrous.

A loud growl rumbled from behind him and he fell forward, immediately rotating himself to see the creature as he crawled away.

In the depths of the dark cave, two glowing blue eyes gradually grew bigger as it approached. It let out that sickening wet roar and Philip moved to get to his feet. The second he tried, a large hand grabbed him by his ankle and dragged him back to the ground.

He tried to grab at the rocks on the ground to get this creature off of him. Philip tried to scream yet his mouth made no noise, no matter how much force he put onto his lungs.

The monster's green and brown skull adorned with large antlers and matted, greying hair leaned down to face Philip. His heart was beating so hard that he imagined it would jump from his chest at any moment.

With a horrible shaken noise, the demon took a long breath before it cried out a single sentence with all of its might.

"YOU CANNOT DIE!"

Finally, Philip yelled as loud as he could and it had been enough to jolt him from his sleep. His body shot upwards as he woke up screaming, his hands clawing at his chest as he felt his entire body shake.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked around, desperately trying to make sure the monster hadn't returned. He stood up and ran to the cave entrance, falling to his knees as he saw the night sky.

His breathing slowly calmed yet his body did not cease to shake.

What a dreadful nightmare.

[lightandfellowship]

I feel like if Xehanort and Eraqus reunited with their classmates in the afterlife Bragi would definitely be there but like. The real one.

Bragi's like "Hey, it's nice to finally meet you." and Xehanort's like "What? What does that mean? Are you pulling my leg?"

Bragi shakes his head. "Oh, I guess you never found out, huh? Yeah the Bragi you knew wasn't the real me. This random dude I ran into one day kicked me out of my own body and I've been here ever since."

Xehanort is dumbfounded. He's like 90 years old (time-wise) and he thought there was nothing left in life to surprise him.

Eraqus has to try really hard to resist the temptation of intentionally making Xehanort's afterlife more difficult by blurting out, "Oh, so like what Xehanort did to my apprentice."

[coldshrugs]

🖤

For Io/Estinien??? 😊 Thanks!! I love them so much, hehe

HI HELLO this is so delayed and i'm barely fitting this into the prompt but i will let you be the judge of how well it works 😂 thank you so much for sending the prompt :>

pang

🖤: desperation rating/content: M; language, mention of spicy thoughts. no payoff. pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 1.6k note: for a kiss prompt, there is no kissing in this. it's 100% estinien pining and thinking about it tho. endwalker spoilers. [divider credit] [read on ao3]

Old Sharlayan's wind bites in the familiar way.

If he would but close his eyes, Estinien might think himself in Ishgard, leaving the Congregation for a late evening stroll to clear his head; perhaps he’d recall Aymeric’s hounding steps to catch up to him, and he might even feel the old pain, or an echo of it. But he does not close his eyes. Icy flurries plummet between the pale-gray buildings, swirling under his shirt and clinging to his skin as indiscriminately as the stone around him. He pays the snow little mind, besides blinking a few flakes from his eyelashes as he stares up at the open window three floors above him.

Soft lantern light spills down to the bare alley where he stands, tempting him, and he can still see a shadow moving across the sill. It would be so simple to leap back into the room. She deserves ‘simple.’

The light goes out, and the snow does not sting as much as his indecision.

Estinien moves through the darkness at a furious pace, heading nowhere in particular. Just… away. The island doesn’t offer a wealth of options for escape, but anywhere he can have a moment alone to think is an improvement over the twins sparring about snacks in his quarters, or his mouth running away from him in Io’s doorway. The chilly night air pulls at his partially open shirt as he leaps across a narrow ravine, and he is almost grateful for his years spent enduring the cold.

The other side of the gap holds a path lined with warm lights and untrimmed shrubs. He follows it to the stone pavilions in front of the Studium. On the way, he tries not to think of Io.

Students pass him in a huddled pack, chattering and giggling, their red cheeks apparent even in the dim light. He slows his stride to avoid drawing their attention, not that many in this place have shown an interest in him. He prefers it this way and has learned not to push his luck. He goes ignored, but more night owls litter the grass and gather under the pavilions. Is solitude truly so godsdamned difficult to find in this city? He groans and continues to the strangely tent-shaped building he thinks is called Noumenon. Nowhere to go but up.

He wanders the library’s perimeter, searching for the most inconspicuous place to access the roof. Even with this task in mind, his thoughts are half a mile away: Io in her nightclothes, her temple leaned against her open door, patiently watching him with sleep-heavy eyes while he all but laid himself bare. ‘You and Alphinaud have my lance. Now and always.’

Rambling imbecile. But…

“Estinien? Please… come in.”

He tries to forget how her voice cracked around the invitation before he poured his words at her feet, and tries harder to forget fleeing out of her window when the weight of those words caught up to him. She gave him no reason to run. She was smiling as he promised himself to her cause–to her. But there was a weight in that too. Some… deviation in his understanding of their bond he’s blissfully repressed since their return to Azys Lla some months ago. Try as he might, it is becoming impossible to ignore.

Estinien rounds the far corner of Noumenon and, ah, the northwestern side of the building is free of onlookers. From here, he can make his move skyward and set about sorting his thoughts. ...And his feelings.

The raging gust swells under his skin before he leaps, before he becomes part of it. Less than half a second of sensation. Aether, they tell him, but he has never spared it more than a passing thought. It’s as natural as taking his next breath–whether the exhale is a sigh or a squall matters little. He vaults to the roof and gingerly lands on the jutting white stone.

He cranes his head around the corner to observe the nighttime lurkers below, but they haven’t noticed him, thank the Fury. Old Sharlayan stretches beyond them, its jagged tiers dense with evergreens and immaculate domed structures slope towards the sea. Pinpricks of light dot the buildings. Not one of them is the light he wants to stand in.

It’s just him on this secluded ledge. He bends to wipe the freshly fallen powder from a fulm or two near the edge, then sits with his legs hanging over the side. The stone is freezing, even colder than the air, but he grips the edge hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“I don’t understand it,” he says aloud. Sees his confusion appear in front of him, a hazy white cloud of breath carried into the night by the breeze.

It’s true, in a way.

He knows–has known–what he wants, but he doesn’t know how to achieve it. This kind of need is… new, and his usual impulses feel inadequate. She spins in his mind almost constantly, no matter how he tries to direct his thoughts. Io, ready for bed and beautiful in the frame of her doorway – Io, smiling earnestly at his every arrival – Io in a Garlean snowdrift, curled in on herself and sobbing, having just been returned to her body – Io dissolving in a shimmer of aether before his eyes as she chases apocalyptic danger to the fucking moon–

“Do not hesitate to send me against your enemies. I’ll make them rue the day they met me.”

The only vow he knows how to make.

A thick snowflake lands on his cheek. He sighs and lets go of Garlemald. Holds on to her smile instead. Her voice pitched low and sweet as she asked him to come inside. His heart thumps hard against his ribs.

Estinien has never been in love.

Io, the ache growing in the space between his lungs, sharp and saccharine. In the cavity of his life, there is nowhere she doesn’t touch, and some part of him still wants for more of her. That is how he knows.

“Please… come in.”

He said no.

He said yes too late. He ran, as casually as he could.

His fingers are numb, but he isn’t ready to come down. What if it had gone differently?

He imagines a night when he accepts her invitation. A night where he closes the door behind them both and no one leaves. Perhaps they would have a drink and talk through the night, and that would be nothing unusual. Or perhaps she would draw him close and put her hands on him…

He exhales, uncertain of indulging in this line of thought. His leg shakes against the ledge as he pictures her how he shouldn’t, tender and open. No… not quite open, but opening. Still unfurling at his touch, his hands exploring her skin attentively as she watches him with those wide, awe-struck eyes (in his mind, Io can watch him, because she wants him, too).

She might want him in a more real sense, but that is one conclusion to which Estinien is not ready to jump, no matter how strong the proceeding surge of wind in his veins. 

No, it is easier to imagine the curve of her spine or the part of her lips as he figures her out. He makes the mental corrections. No, not that, I can be more gentle, if it’s her. Or hm, I’ve felt her hold her breath at a passing touch there, aye. He knows her, knows how she moves, but there is more to learn. What would she feel like, pressed into him like that? Close enough to taste. So close that each quiet sound would move through him like thunder. He wavers on the specifics of where this happens, their location and positioning, but that part matters less in this fantasy.

Fucking hells. Has he fantasized before? Maybe a decade ago, before he had lived experience in the matter.

What is lived experience next to this dream? Who is anyone on this star next to Io?

His stomach tosses, and he admits something to himself for the first time: he wants to kiss her. Something he hasn’t done often, rare even in his most eager of dalliances. She was looking at him in the way she often does, like he could tell her anything and she would not flinch, and maybe that’s the problem. He can think about more than a kiss without losing his head. It is the straightforwardness of the intimacy he desires that sends him reeling, and already she affords him something close. So he ran.

The urge has been growing for some time. They catch their breath after a battle, and she’s bruised and radiant, and he shoves it down. They carry out some mundane task and Io pulls her hair back from her face, and Estinien endures a calamity. How often has he busied his hands to keep them from the simple act of tugging her to him and embarrassing himself?

“Please…”

He should’ve stayed. But he sits here in the cold and dark, feeling the throb of his heartbeat in his throat instead of Io’s warmth in whatever form she offers. 

Snow has settled on his legs and shoulders. His hands are stiff as he dusts himself off and drops to the ground in a rush of frigid air.

I love her, he thinks on the way down. Maybe she could love him too, more than the love of friends and comrades.

As he walks back to the Baldesion Annex, he cannot shake the feeling that things will only get worse before they get better. Something terrible is coming, and they have work to do. This is not the time to disrupt their focus with fanciful confessions and selfish longing.

No. If this is his lot, he’ll settle for the maybe.

[eshithepetty]

Ahh so, lately, I've been slowly (emphasis on slowly) working through another animatic.... so while I'm doing that I thought it'd be fun to share some thought processes i had while making Juliet (which you can watch above)!! I'm obviously not gonna analyze all of it, as a lot of the lyric matches and like, color meanings, for example, you can understand just fine on your own, but some stuff maybe might not be as obvious? So yeah, this is just gonna be me inanely rambling, in case anyone is in the market for thinking too deep into symbolism and character analysis hdgdhd

0:07

Starting off with the intro, the big flowers here are hydrangeas :) I intentionally tried to pick a color between blue, pink and purple, as the meanings for all three apply here. Blue hydrangeas symbolize understanding and gratefulness, and remorse and apology, sort of as 'I understand where I went wrong, and I'm sorry for not treating you fairly". I think this would fit well with Shigeo's feelings towards Ritsu,, pink, however, symbolizes heartfelt emotion, romance, and true feelings, which I thought was great for the Tsubomi side of things, especially in regards to the last arc. And purple symbolizes understanding, and gratefulness, without as much of the negative connotations. Sort of like a positive inverse of the blue ones' symbolism - a 'thank you for sticking with me'. Which is relevant for all the platonic relationships in his life, all the friendships, and, well... as I see it, also his relationship with himself - between Mob and ???% :')

Also I think the other flowers were lilacs, but. Tbh, i don't remember anymore.. their symbolism wasn't as relevant in my mind i think hdhfg (though i'm sure you could still extrapolate something from them if you really wanted to (which, in my country, they're often associated with students and graduation, so like, learning and new begginings/endings.... also i carry many memories of trying to find 3 leaved buds in them, for good luck, so take from that what you will ig! ^^;))

***

0:15

Here, I intended to use a dark red outline as to not make it immediately clear that Shigeo was dripping blood. As when you hear the lyrics "I need to cry," one would immediately picture tears, right? I'm not sure if I succeeded (especially with the blood tw right before), but that was the idea. Along with how then, of course, the lyrics continue with "but I can't get anything out of my eyes," and the gruesome scene reveal, making it clear it's not tears at all... yeah. Also, I just want to mention the lyrics "did I die?" because they make me emo. In a way, a part of Shigeo, the old Shigeo, did die that day....

***

0:46

not as much to say here, though I definitely drew this with the feeling of stagnation in my mind... like. Mob is growing physically, yes. But emotionally? He's festering, and only growing more, and more, stuck.... notice how the color dims. Blue is a sad color. But at least it is a color at all.

***

1:14

Oh boy, lots.... of things to say here. Or, well  maybe not say. Idk how to explain the symbolism in this one? It was more subconscious... Something about Mob trying to reach out and understand himself, only to get distracted by Tsubomi, and set his eyes on her instead. And ???%, in the mirror, turning to him judgementally... I think it's reflective of how Tsubomi also was part of the reason for the split, and how, in his yearning for Tsubomi, what he was seeking after the most was acceptance, even if he couldn't see it.... something along those lines <3

(Also, god it bothers me that i messed up the lighting in his reflection's hair hghdgd,, might fix that someday)

***

1:56

"With two corks in his eyes", the two corks in this case being a dumbbell, and a book on social cues (which, btw, he canonically has).... I wanted to portray the things that he finds lacking in himself, and thus makes into roadblocks towards his path of self acceptance. Thinking of that line said by ???% about how, in his effort to join and train with the body improvement club, he was really just 'trying to make a new self', and wasn't really 'seeing' ???%. Trying to escape himself, the part of him with powers... and then s1 ep3, and how in it, Mob implied that he and his autism (dunno how else to put everything about that djghfh, it was just.. autism) are destructive... Yeah.

***

2:00

"and a bully in his head"

Just want to note... obviously, the lyrics imply that ???% is the bully here. But, if you pay attention, ???% here actually looks rather.. anguished. And Mob looks almost angry... just thought I'd make it clear the situation is a little more gray than that! :)

***

2:19

While drawing for this part, I couldn't stop thinking about this one analysis in youtube comments I had seen about how s2 ep1 was crucial in Mob taking that first, real step towards opening up emotionally, and how in the process, he's exposed to a much wider world morally as well. That's why I put the ghost family scene directly after the scene with Emi - he's beggining to consider his emotions, all the 'colors' he hasn't allowed himself to see, and that leads to him realizing his own autonomy, which leads to him considering his decisions more, which leads to the ghost family scene, where he's starting to consider the autonomy of spirits as well, instead of blindly following Reigen on these matters (who, as we know, doesn't know shit about that side of the world, and I would say... kinda allowed Mob to separate himself from his psychic side even more, with him mindlessly using his powers as a tool for work and nothing else). "I wanna be so much more."

I... actually have a lot of feelings, on Mob and his relationship with spirits and how that intertwines with his powers, but that's something to write it's own post about, not ramble about here, so I'll leave it at that i think jfgfh

***

2:33

The relevancy of the lyrics very much stretch on into the instrumental for this one.. "I hope that she looks at me and thinks, "shit, he's so pretty." Something I can't believe," And then him flashing to blood on his hands, and a sequence of moments he's probably felt not so proud of,,, just wanted to note that in case it wasn't obvious. Also, I have feelings about hand symbolism in this show, too, especially when it comes to moments where Shigeo has looked at his open palm, but that's also a post for another day just as in the previous point jdgdhh (in short: all of those moments can be traced back to how he views the power he posseses)

***

3:46

The two corks, in this case, are the spirit world, and the human world ^^ also notice how one of the figures among the spirits wears Mob's uniform... is that lord psycho helmet, or ???%...?? idk!!! You decide :)

Also the "bully in his head", this time, becomes not ???%, but the trauma of the incident... just wanted to bring that back to front and focus before the final chorus. Cause,, that really was the even that kickstarted it all, huh?

***

4:00

Not an analysis, just wanted to say, I greatly enjoy the juxtaposition of "but i'm really just a kid," laid over top Shigeo bleeding on the ground. Mmmhmmm,,,, pain.

***

4:11

I knowww I said I wasn't gonna be talking about the color meanings, but I just had to for this one. Obviously, I portrayed ???% menacing here, as they are menacing in this arc, but... notice how their aura is rather pink? I had finished this before the finale aired, so I didn't know it would be red in canon, but even knowing that, I would have returned to this. Because, with the pink... well, red does fit them better overall I would say, but in this case, I wanted to take the obvious choice, the color that is so commonly associated with danger, and... shift it to left a bit, make it a little softer. To emphasize the affection ???% holds for Tsubomi, the protectiveness they hold over Mob, the gentle side they show to Ritsu. And to bring us into their point of view even more, the red is instead relegated to the edges of the frame... a creeping vignete, that represents how they view the world around them is the dangerous part in all this. ..I hope all of that makes sense ;^^

***

4:07 and 4:22

Anddd the two corks become the seperation between Mob and ???%, and Ritsu and Tsubomi... those really were the focal points in this animatic, the building blocks for who Shigeo is, as I see it.. and how reconciling with both Ritsu and Tsubomi, leads to him being able to reconcile with himself, too. Of course, there is Reigen as well... but I just wanted to focus on these 3 for this one. Also, I just wanna say that the panel of Ritsu, Shigeo and Tsubomi holding hands in the air is one of my fave panels ever and I loved being able to depict it.. it just makes me feel things. The yearning for childhood, and connections, and the feeling of being whole again of it all,,,, augh

***

And. To end this sleep deprived ramble....

Notice how the animatic became more colorful over time? :)

Of course, part of that is just that I improved my style along the way, but... it was also very much intentional. A sort of reflection of Shigeo's journey, and how he rediscovered those colors along the way. Also was very much intentional from me for the final 2 frames to be the only ones where Shigeo's colors are actually accurate instead of just being symbolic - and that was to symbolize that,,, he was finally grounding himself in reality, and seeing himself for the whole, real person he truly is :')

The flower imagery wasn't as planned however, I decided on it as to make it match the intro that I made later and thus for it to come full circle, and I think it ended up adding to it!! Think of it meaning something along the lines of,,, just as in happiness, so in sadness, the flowers bloom. Or something like that.. idk jhgjdhgh

So yeah!!! Dunno who even read this far, but if anyone did, thank you for listening to my brainrot, I hope it was relatively interesting!! aanndd with that im also going to sleep, buh byeee u_u have good days/nights everyones <3

[bbeboppp]

𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 | 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘬 | 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗢𝗡𝗘 ; New Beginnings

𝘽𝙇𝙐𝙍𝘽 ; ┊ It's 1971, New York. Sherman Square, known informally as Needle Park. The seemingly never-ending cold winter coats the streets in biting frost as Bobby is released from prison. Swearing to not return to Helen or his addiction, Bobby finds himself looking for a new distraction. He gets a shitty job as a retail worker, living in a half-way house. It's at work on day in December he meets Y/N. Her taste in music is new, her clothes catch his attention and most importantly; they're in love. The story follows Y/N & Bobby's relationship as he keeps temptation to relapse at bay and figures from Bobby's past life cross paths once more. After all, what peace can you find in Needle Park?

⚠︎︎ ⚠︎︎ ⚠︎︎ Based on the film "The Panic in Needle Park" by Jerry Schatzberg, this is my personal take on what could've become, if the very last scene hadn't occurred. The films is an 16/18s and contains use of drugs, domestic violence, talk of drugs, heroin being shot up, etc. I don't want to glorify or romanticize this; personally I've never done drugs and don't intend to, I've seen people destroyed by them. This story is written as a sort of healing process for Bobby and won't contain any domestic violence. Drugs will be mentioned, but not graphically. :)

(NO SMUT, just a warm up. idek if I'll even get attention haha so may or may not be continued if I FLOP. I'll post this on ao3 once I get an account WHY DO I HAVE TO WAIT TIL OCTOBER UGH)

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

❝And here I am, the Only Living Boy in New York.❞

quote from from "The Only Living Boy in New York" by Simon & Garfunkel.

✧

BOBBY'S POV:

December 4th, 1971. 10:01 AM

The gates opened, there stood Bobby with nothing but the clothes he wore and a bag with all the few possessions he had in this world. Nobody was waiting for him, the only faces he sees are the officer's as he passes by them and a couple strangers walking the streets, hunched slightly in their thick winter coats as they briskly journeyed down dull, dim grey pavements.

To his left were rows of fairly desolate buildings in disrepair being towered over by their neighbouring modern neighbours. The world hadn't seemed to develop much since he'd initially entered prison. Taking in a deep breath of the cold morning air, Bobby exhales as he walked. Being in the prison sometimes fucked with his perception of time, even though the longest sentence he'd even done was just under one year. Time will move on, with or without him, and New York was a busy city constantly changing and evolving.

✧  FIFTY-TWO MINUTES LATER  ✧

The door opened with a creak, a short man balding with a clipboard in hand entered first, Bobby shortly after. "Your keys." The man handed Bobby a set of copper keys, two. One for the front door, the other also for the front door but in case the first one was misplaced. A tiny flat with peeling wallpapers, a steel bed-frame and narrow window in an awkward place. Bobby couldn't guess with a gun to his head how old the room was. The furniture in it had probably never left, the walls never repainted from their initial colouring. The man was rambling on about the room. How you need to wake up before 10:00 AM if you want hot water & the café across the street opens at 08:00 AM. Bobby nodded along, taking a look around the room from where he stood. He didn't care much for scenery, sure he could enjoy well orientated & decorated homes, but he never felt the need to do any home improvements himself. Not being materialistic, as long as the mattress he slept on didn't break his back and the chairs didn't collapse under him he'd be fine.

Bobby thanked the man, taking the keys as he watched the man exit the room, shutting the door behind him. Silence fell upon the room, not like much dialogue was happening before. He huffed, walking over to the bed just a few feet away and dumping his bag down onto it. The mattress squeaked, and then again as Bobby sat down. He pulled his boots off, dropping them on the ground beside the bedframe. Taking out a pack of Embassy Gold cigarettes, selecting one and lighting it up. Sitting at the very end of his bed, Bobby watched the street below as he took drags of the stick between his lips, held occasionally by his lightly tobacco-stained fingers.

Down on the street, Bobby observed people walking by. A man dressed in all-gold, likely phoney yelling onto a phone as he crossed the street. A taxi, a red car, a black car passed. Two women with arms interlinked and bright red lipstick strutted down the path, being cat-called by construction workers on break with nothing better to do than pester. Bobby's eyes wandered up and down the street, and finally that little café his landlord had mentioned previously caught his attention. Tan bricks with a tea green awning, a dark-oak door and outdoor seating covered in raindrops thanks to New York's bleak weather. Nobody was sitting outside, and Bobby could see the outlines of bodies sitting down inside the café through the front windows. As he took another drag, Bobby paused after exhaling. The door opened, out stepped a waitress with a ridiculous green half-apron on, grey uniform-top & hair wrangled back. Her mouth moved, she was likely cursing the rain. In her apron's front pocket was a cloth which she took out, using it to wipe down the tables & seats affected by the rain. Bobby chuckled, her efforts were in vain; the furniture would be soaked again in a couple minutes.

His cigarette came to it's end, he placed it on the window-sill, making a note to get an ash-tray. Lighting another one, Bobby watched the waitress huff, returning to inside the café. He continued watching the people on the streets for another four minutes, then saw the very same waitress return out the front to wipe down the furniture again, which was just as wet as it had been prior to her drying it four minutes ago. He giggled (girly-pop moment), watching her expression; just as irked as she was moments before. Bobby has a feeling this wasn't her first time, and wouldn't be her last.

He put the second cigarette out, crushing the ashing end against the wooden window sill. Probably not a good idea, but he wasn't really a good-idea-haver. With almost half the day over, Bobby figured he'd ring the number advised to him by Chico to get a real job. "Easy pay, the manager's an ass but you're not gonna get any better Bobby." Bobby remembered those exact words being spoken to him on the phone during Chico's only visit to him in prison. He was surprised Chico came at all, and wondered if Chico would expect some sort of favour for giving out this information to Bobby.

Bobby lit another cigarette, absently gazing out of the window. Once his third cigarette was finished, he inhaled sharply through his teeth, deciding to get the call over with now rather than later.

✧ ONE HOUR & ONE PHONE CALL LATER  ✧

Paul's grocery read the sign above the small shop in a tacky font. Bobby pushed open the door, looking around the premises for a guy named Raul who he'd spoken to previously on the phone.

"Raul, it's only one letter away from Paul, why don't they rename the grocery Raul's grocery if Raul is the manager?"  Bobby thought, but this little monologue was interrupted by a hard slap on the back. Bobby jumped, turning to see who was greeting him so informally. Raul, a tanned man with something similar to a military haircut on his head & striped top with a nametag on it.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Bobby thought, looking at the shirt Raul had on, "is that the uniform? That shit is so ugly."

"Your Bobby?" Raul had a jolly voice, and a plastic smile on his face. It was a question, but spoken more like a statement.

"Uh humn." Bobby nodded, holding out a hand to shake.

"Welcome to the family, Bobby." Raul gripped Bobby's hand firmly, shaking it in an unexpectedly enthusiastic manner.

"Oh no he calls his employees his family. Chico why'd you set me up like this." Bobby thought, but only simply smiled in return.

Details such as Bobby's hours and pay were exchanged over the phone. Three days a week, 8:00 AM til 4:00 PM, with one half-hour break. He got $1.60 an hour and couldn't smoke with his uniform on.

"You can start tomorrow, you'll be on shift with Matilda over there." Raul briefed, handing Bobby a uniform shirt and leaving the storage room to point to Matilda. Matilda was an acne-riddled 20-something year old with a hunch and fried blonde hair in a bun. She didn't notice Raul calling her name, focusing on scanning her customer's items.

"If you catch her smoking in her uniform, tell me. She's a re-offender." Raul chuckled, slapping Bobby's arm as he did so. This man did a lot of friendly slapping. Bobby scoffed a laugh, sharing a smile with Raul, but mostly just to be polite.

✧ ELEVEN MINUTES LATER  ✧

Walking back to his flat, uniform in hand, the drizzling-rain had stopped. Bobby walked past a busker, an elderly man playing the trumpet. He stood and listened for a moment, the sound of constant road-traffic and mumbling strangers blending with the sophisticated jazz being played.

Bobby tossed a coin into the trumpet-case the man had played in front of him, receiving a grateful wink. He turned away, looking at the café on the other side of the road. That little green awning, that dark oak door and tan brick walls. Bobby remembered the waitress wiping down the tables, biting the inside of his cheeks as he peered in the glass windows, looking for her.

He turned away, back to the trumpet player. The sound of music accompanied his thoughts. 

"Café Verte opens at 08:00 AM, Monday to Saturday. Doesn't open on Sundays, the owner's a Catholic, they don't work on Sundays." Bobby recalled the landlord explaining to him.

"If you're gonna get something, get the black coffee. They get their coffee beans imported from Brazil, real good shit." The landlord was probably a regular customer, because who the hell else rambles on about a café.

Bobby made up his mind to visit Café Verte the next day, the fact both the café & his job started at 08:00 AM not seeming to cross his mind.

END OF CHAPTER ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A/N: Just a reminder this is my first published work. Sorry for the slow start haha I promise I'll speed it up. Any advice would be appreciated <3 WORD COUNT: 1.5K

[sxugaryx]

Red Roses (FANFIC)

New Chapter of my Fic series ❤️

January 8th 18XX

Pinocchio wasted no time in meeting with Alice, fortunately for him, his other clothes actually came back, he gave a small sigh of relief, it was nice, he didn’t truly lose them and he was able to keep the dress in the real world.

They went back to the mansion in the otherlands, continuing their path, they encountered a few enemies until they were back to the door with all the locks, Pinocchio grabbed his weapon with the intent of just breaking them with full force, but Alice had to stop him,

“This isn’t how things work here, as much I’d love to, things aren’t that simple, looks like no matter the person, the mind loves to complicate things”

“That’s quite true my dear Alice, a mind is like a labyrinth” Cheshire had appeared in front of them “A twisted labyrinth where surviving is the only true reward”

Pinocchio loved cats, even if they looked as creepy as Cheshire, he got closer to try to pet him but he disappeared again, only to reappear behind him.

“I’m flattered but I’ve never been one to like to be petted, and appearances are deceitful boy, a friend of Alice is a friend of mine, but there will be those who hide their true intentions in the guise of friendship”

Cheshire disappeared for one last time, and Alice just rolled her eyes.

“Cheshire is a good friend, although he loves to give cryptic advice rather than friendly advice, I suppose there is a method to his madness, although I guess it would be my madness, I made him after all”

They wandered the halls looking for an answer until they found a room filled with keys that hung from the roof, the keys were tied to guts, and there were so many of them, that it would take them an eternity to grab them all and try each one, there must be a way to know what the real ones are, and Alice just knew what to try, she drank from the potion and instructed Pinocchio to do the same.

In their small size, they could see things that weren’t there before, lavender drawings on the wall revealed what they were looking for, they showed a stomach, heart, brain, lungs, and finally a uterus, and next to them a knife. They looked for them, each hanging from the roof, and when opened a key with the form of a tongue was revealed. Their way back was much the same, they encountered enemies on their way, and they finally unlocked the door blocking their path, but upon entering, they were met with a pitch-black hall, the darkness so thick they couldn’t even see in front of them.

“Whatever shall we do? We cannot wander around in this dimness” Alice was at a loss for words, but Pinocchio just had the answer, he grabbed Gemini and turned his light feature on, he carried his friend and used him as a lamp to walk around.

“My, even Gemini is full of surprises, the two of you sure have a few cards up your sleeves” Alice felt lucky to have them by her side.

“I’ll have you know that Pinocchio couldn’t have saved Krat without me” Gemini bragged, it was unusual for him to get compliments and he had to enjoy every moment of it.

Pinocchio shook his cage a bit, “Giving commentary isn’t helping” he teased his friend. In a way, Pinocchio’s and Gemini’s friendships were like the one Alice had with Cheshire.

As they walked, the hallway almost seemed endless, Alice decided it would be best to start a conversation.

“What’s your father like Pinocchio?” She could tell the boy was very attached to him.

“He is a great father! He always spends time with me, and takes care of me, and always compliments me, and teaches me about all kinds of stuff and-“ Pinocchio rambled about his family, and he soon began to talk about the rest of his family, Alice listen in awe, his family was very strange, in a good way that is, they were so different from each other, and he wasn’t biologically related to most of them, although, does he have blood? Alice wondered, it’s not every day you see someone like Pinocchio, he wasn’t fully a puppet but he wasn’t human either.

“What about your family Ali-“ Pinocchio was talking nonstop that he said that out loud without thinking, although Alice had not said it out loud, she had implied to him before that she lost her entire family when she was a child, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he was mortified about what he had done.

“It’s alright, I have made peace with it, and you know, for once, I want to actually remember them, the good memories of them” For the longest time, Alice blamed herself, for something that was never her fault.

Alice began to describe her family, her parents were kind and caring, but also strict, they disciplined her when necessary but also tended to spoil her, she was the younger one, their baby, she was 10 years younger than Lizzie after all.

Lizzie was older than Alice, but she always had time for her, she was her confidant, and she always listened to her tales of wonderland without question or without judgment, Lizzie loved to hear Alice talk about Wonderland.

They played the piano together, and they read stories, but were thick as thieves, she was very mischievous, often pranked others or indulged in a little chaos, she would sneak out of the house, and after her parents were done scolding her she would tell Alice all about her little adventures.

“Lizzie…she sounds a lot like Carlo” Pinocchio’s voice had changed, his voice was quieter and it sounded dejected now.

“Who is Carlo?” Asked Alice, he hadn’t mentioned him before.

“He is… was… my brother but I never met him, it’s weird, it’s strange, this is going to be hard to explain,” Pinocchio told Alice about the real reason he was built, that his father had made him bring Carlo back, “My father has changed and I forgave him, but still, I had some of Carlo’s memories, it felt so surreal seeing them”

Alice felt a deep sorrow for her friend, he had gone through so much, but she managed to give him a smile, “I bet that Carlo and Lizzie would have been good friends”

Pinocchio smiled back at her, and finally, after so much walking they found themselves at the end, another huge door, it was too hard to open for Alice, but Pinocchio used the strength of his Legion Arm to open the door with ease.

Upon entering they found themselves in a large room that resembled a study, filled with all sorts of books and notes about anatomy and the human body, It looked like Jack the Ripper was a doctor.

“What is it with the medical profession that sometimes tends to attract the worst of the worst?” Alice thought to herself, looks like doctors could be angels or devils.

Blood, ruin, and body parts were scattered on the floor, and they all started to join together to form the disgusting shape of a man with stitched-up parts.

“So you are the one behind all this?” Alice wasn’t going to play around, she was here for answers.

“Indeed I am, and I’m not here to talk, I’m here to get rid of these two pests that have invaded my mind” Without more being said, more enemies came to attack them, and the monster of a man used its brute force to fight, Alice took care of the smaller enemies, while Pinocchio dealt with him, once the small horde of enemies was done for she joined Pinocchio, although it was still a fierce fight, the more it lasted, the harder it got, Alice was using her hobby horse to penetrate its defenses, but using close range combat had its set of disadvantages, and Alice was dealt a near mortal blow that launched her from across the room.

“Alice!” Pinocchio shouted but he couldn’t go by her side, he was now the target, and he had to block one attack after another, it started to become unbearable.

Then Pinocchio heard a blood-curdling scream, so loud it briefly stunned their enemy, Alice was now next to him attacking, she was different, her dress and body were completely white, her eyes were pitch black and her hands were covered in blood, red petals were scattered across the floor.

She had become completely immune to all attacks, and her strength was even greater than Pinocchio’s, with this new force combined, they managed to defeat him, and the man now lay on the ground unconscious, they obviously weren’t going to kill him, just incapacitate him and find their answers.

Henry William, that was his name, and this study was exactly the same as the one in his own home, he was a surgeon and part of one of the riches families in London at the time, and all the evidence they needed would be found in the real version of the room, they were about to leave, but not before Alice went back to him and kicked him in the stomach.

“That’s for trying to mess with Nan Sharpe!”

——-

Back in the real world, Alice wasted no time in writing the letter, it was almost dark and Pinocchio accompanied her, they made sure no one else was around and left the letter in the anonymous report box.

Alice then accompanied Pinocchio back to the hotel, making small conversation along the way.

“So um, what power was that?” Pinocchio was curious he had never seen something like that before.

“Sometimes when I’m extremely hurt, I go hysterical, and can tap into that power”

“What’s hysteria?”

“I’m… not sure actually, but that’s what Dr. Wilson called it back at the asylum when I would feel overwhelmed and afraid” Alice might know what it feels to be crazy, but she doesn’t know all the fancy mombo jumbo terminology, “Does it matter? Being mad is being mad, maybe we should be the ones to come up with these terms, Doctors tend to name things in complicated ways”

“And those petals? I actually like them, I love flowers” Pinocchio loves flowers, just like his mother does.

“Well they are something that come from my own mind, my wonderland, I should tell you the full story” Alice was eager to tell him about her first adventure to Wonderland, back when she was a child. “Thank you so much for the help, I couldn’t have done this without you”

“We are friends, that’s what friends are for”

Pinocchio was so kind, that they went back to the hotel, unfortunately, Alice had missed a lot of her work these past days, and she had to resume it as normal.

“You mentioned your father would work tomorrow from morning to evening; Maybe we should hang out one last time, actually hang out, and not mangle hordes of monstrosities, we should have tea and have a nice chat”

“We can talk at the hotel lobby, just the two of us,” Pinocchio said excitedly.

“The three of us!” Gemini shouted back.

They laughed, it was a promise, Alice waved Pinocchio goodbye and left, not to her home, but she took a detour to the Mangled Mermaid to meet with Nan Sharpe.

“Alice Liddell to what do I owe you the-“

Alice gave her nan a big hug, it took the air out of her and Sharpe couldn’t finish what she was saying, she regained her composure and stroked Alice’s hair.

“Oh my, is something wrong girl?”

“No, I’m just really happy to see you, see that you are alright”

Sharpe smiled at Alice, she hugged her back, she was proud of her, proud of how far she had come.

“Alice let me take you home, this is no place for a girl like you”

She took her home, and they both reminisced about the past.

Cheshire watched from afar, he was proud of Alice as well, although maybe since he is a part of Alice that means Alice is proud of herself.

He retreated back to Wonderland, it had been destroyed, yet built back, the infernal train had been stopped, and Wonderland was back to normal, well, as normal as the place could be, just like Alice, her friends had changed, still insane but their will strong as ever, Cheshire meet with the Queen of Hearts.

“Looks like our Alice is no longer just surviving in this world” Cheshire’s grin was somehow even wider than usual.

“Indeed she is” The Queen looked at Cheshire, The Queen who held the face of Alice’s dear sister, “After so many years, she is finally living”

Both started at the garden of the place walls, white roses painted in red, the fierce red of Alice’s determination, her family was avenged, Wonderland was saved, and she now had saved the lives of others.

The painted petals fell and were blown away by the wind, and in the real world, one fell in her dress, in her chest.

In her heart.

[houndslayr]

Save a horse, ride a cowboy Pt.1

Gender: M! Reader

Pairing(s): Kaeya x Reader

Warning: Cowboy au / rdr2 inspired type thing, Kaeya might be ooc since I dunno much about him

Summary: When a lone rider stumbles upon a beaten-up-looking Kaeya, deciding to take pity on him he helps the rough-looking man.

Words: 933

Recently started getting into rdr2 again (replaying the story for like the 5th time lol) and was like I want to make a cowboy reader fic with genshin so who other to pair a cowboy with than a Cavalry Captain? Also, I can't stop listening to mary on a cross from ghost :') Dunno how I feel about this fic

Fem aligned dni

[Not edited or checked]

The sun was beating down on the poor dark-skinned guy as he lays up against a large oak tree, bloody and beaten after a group of thieves ambushed him. While trying to fight them off his horse got spooked in the commotion bucking him off the saddle and sending him flying onto the ground, the thieves took advantage of that beating him to a pulp and stealing all his shit.

The sound of someone approaching where he lies was heard in the distance, with what little energy he has Kaeya looks over to see a massive cloud of sand and dust kicking getting closer to him. 'Must be a damn big horse if it's making all that big of an impact on the ground.' The battered man was indeed correct as a huge Percheron horse came from the smoke, its black coat shining in the sun as the muscles shifted with the power of its canter.

Kaeya could not see too much of the rider but all he knows is that with the horse and the outfit the cowpoke wears it looks like the grim reaper is coming for him. He closes his eyes hoping that the rider will just pass and not try to rob him as he has nothing left, his stupid Arabian horse ran off like the pussy it is. Much to his dismay, the cowboy stops right in front of him, how can he tell? The clunking of the colossal horse's feet is so loud that he can feel the dust blowing into his face and into his nose almost making him go into a coughing fit.

"Hey mister, you don't look so good..." A gentle but rough voice calls out to him as he opens one eye, the other covered by an eye patch. A deep county accent carries with the man in front of him, the cowboy's (s/c) skin gleams as the sun is right behind him making him look like an angel. Kaeya looks up and down the rider, a black mask donning his face along with a rugged hat. The rest of his outfit consists of red, black, and white, an pistol sits on top of a wonderfully made vest that looks mighty pricely.

A gloved hand snaps its fingers in front of his face, as he registered that the cowpoke jumped down and is now waving a hand in front of the dark-skinned man's face. "Howdy! Did you hear me, sir? Are you alright??" The ringing in his ears now dimming down a bit, as he shakes his head a meager 'no' as a response. Kaeya thinks that if he talked his voice would come out as barely a whisper.

A worried look flashes on the cowboy's face pacing before him, the (s/c) hand wiping sweat off his eyebrow. "I- I can't just leave a man here-" the man in dark clothes quickly spins back around to face Kaeya. "Do you have a horse? What happened? Are you dying?" He begins to nervously ramble off questions that beat his brain, blue eyes just staring at him. If Kaeya could laugh without hurting his bruised ribs then he would be dying on the floor seeing as such an intimidating man can be acting like such a softie.

"OH, I SHOULD PROBABLY GET YOU SOMETHING TO DRINK!" The man grabs a flask from his belt and holds it up to Kaeya's face, helping him drink down the last of the water. After waiting for a little, the dark-skinned man finally seems to get ahold of his voice. "Got robbed.. by a few scums and my stupid horse ran for the hills somewhere." (Y/n) nods, as he looks over to the direction where Kaeya shakily points his finger talking about the path his mount went. "Ah, I can go get 'em for ya' what does your horse look like?" (Y/n) ask, his eyes shifting back to the gruesome-looking guy in front of him. "He is an um-" A cough rattles the man, quickly moving his right arm to wrap around his ribs trying to rub the pain quickly away. "Sorry, he's a black roan arabian, he scares easily so it might be a hassle catching him though."

An overconfident smile makes its way onto the rider, as he let's out a rough chuckle. "Well, you ain't nev'a seen me and my boy in action. I can catch just 'bout anything." He walks forward and hoists his arms carefully around Kaeya holding him in a bridal position, making sure not to hurt him as he walks closer to his draft stallion. "Wait- wait what are you doing?" Kaeya speaks up quickly, his arms finding themselves around the other's neck tightly. "Well, I ain't gonna leave ya here am I?" He boosts Kaeya up onto his mount, soon hoisting himself up behind him. His arms reach around Kaeya's waist grabbing his horse's reins, his chin resting lightly over Kaeyas shoulder and arms barely laying upon the other's hips. "Alrighty bud, go!" He whips the reins, faintly tapping the edge of his boots against his percherons side, yanking his horse's head to the way Kaeya pointed to. "By the way sir, I'm (y/n) and this is my bud Gale" (Y/n) speaks up, not wanting to be riding with someone who doesn't even know his name. "Kaeya, my name is Kaeya.." A little sly smile makes its way onto Kaeya's face as he leans back onto the chest of the other, his pecks feel like plush feeling better than most pillows Kaeya ever has had.

Request are open! Also, I will continue this when I have some time and get some inspiration. Constructive criticism is welcomed :)

[momo-t-daye]

HP worldbuilding ramble primarily regarding comets and Voldemort

I rambled about this to @whimsyckle and @rubusart and now I’m tossing this idea up here to see if anyone wants to play with this concept/run with this idea/bounce thoughts around!

So, after several unsuccessful (and rather chilly) camping trips to darker skies (…when I wasn’t getting rained on/hoping that my tent wouldn't leak again) over the last few weeks, I wound up going to an observatory the other weekend where they could still pick up the “green comet” in the big telescope— it was pretty blurry and dim even so but, hooray, a comet! (I’m hoping we’ll get another nice bright comet soon, sure Halley’s comet is scheduled for 2061, but that’s still quite a few years down the road!)

And thus I may have had comets on the brain for a little while now and that’s begun to spawn some world building thoughts.

(Caveat lector: I’m not an astronomer/astrophysicist/historian etc.  I like having stars in the night sky and trying to find comets, but I enjoy meteor showers far more than trying to find Messier objects, so I am, at best, a very casual stargazer.  There’s a lot of Wikipedia under these thoughts under here)

Okay. The stars can be charted and are very predictable, certain constellations are always in the sky at certain times and some are always visible.  The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black uses stars and constellations as names, thus they are associated with the fixed and predictable heavens which reflects on their house being established and very important in wizarding society, right?

Then there are those bright planets (Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn.  The others aren't particularly visible without telescopes) that seem to have their own strange pathways unrelated to the more predictable stars (the Greek word root for planet means something like "wanderer") that made them more important for astrological prophecy/divination (for example: “Mars is bright tonight” etc.; I suppose, too, that centaurs don’t have much interest in Uranus).

Comets (long-haired stars), which appeared in the sky unpredictably and for a limited period of time and with a path entirely erratic/eccentric compared to the predictable stars, were, historically (…and not just historically given modern cults and people buying gas masks out of fear of cyanide gas from Halley's Comet...), seen as omens/ill portents/signs of displeased higher powers/harbingers of doom (particularly for those in power).

Maybe the Wizarding World, which has classes in Divination and Astronomy taught to schoolchildren and has an important family associated with the predictable stars and might not know about Uranus, Neptune, and/or Pluto+, is likely to take comets as omens (rather than a 'dirty snowball' going through the solar system on it’s own orbit etc.). (Also, we get talking mirrors in the Leaky Cauldron, two-way mirrors, foe mirrors, the Mirror of Erised, maybe wizards aren’t about to put mirrors in telescopes and instead stick to older refracting telescopes)

Now then, Tom Riddle kinda has a very high/inflated sense of his own importance (unlike Harry, who was rather freaked out by the whole "Chosen One" thing), right? From his: "I knew I was different, I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something" thing and giving himself a noble title, he rather strikes me as someone who would see astronomical or meteorological phenomena as signs confirming his significance.

So, there's the Geminid meteor shower in December, which tends to put on a good show (although it peaks in the middle of December, not the end) and the Quadrantids (which peak in early January) can sometimes be fairly active (for a few hours), but I’ve got comets on the brain at the moment.

I haven't found any records of a naked-eye visible comet in December 1926, but there was (the great) Comet Skjellerup-Maristany in December 1927 that was bright enough to be potentially visible in daylight and unusually golden.  It was mostly visible in the Southern Hemisphere, but towards the end of December it (or at least the tail?) could apparently be seen in the Northern Hemisphere.

For an AU/headcanon of Tom Riddle thinking of himself as special for having a comet visible around the time of his birth, I wouldn't be above changing his birth year (or having him lie about it/get a little confused because he was born on New Years Eve and the next day it was 1927 and does he even know math?).

A Voldemort born under a comet (or one that thinks/claims to be born under a comet) might then consider comets as auspicious and decide to take certain actions when a comet appears.

There were several very bright comets in the late 50s, the 60s, and the 70s (between Tom Riddle leaving school and Voldemort's first rise to power/war); I could see this version of Voldemort timing the creation of Horcruxes 3, 4, and 5 to comets. Perhaps the cup and the locket (both stolen during the murder of Hepzibah Smith right?) were made in 1957 with Comet Arend-Roland and then, a few months later, Comet Mrkos.  Maybe the diadem became a Horcrux in 1962 while Comet Seki-Lines was in the sky.  Perhaps he sees the brilliant 1965 Comet Ikeya-Seki as a sign that he should return to Hogwarts (only to have his job application turned down by Dumbledore; it would change the time between Hokey the elf's memory and Dumbledore's memory to more like eight years rather than ten, but that's a pretty minor detail).

In the first book, when Dumbledore and Minerva meet at Privet Drive in 1981, Dumbledore says something about having had little to celebrate over the last eleven years. So, in this headcanon/AU whatever this ramble is, perhaps the 1970 appearance of Comet Bennet spurs Voldemort into action again after stewing over the disappointing job interview. Maybe he starts getting serious about mustering political power, starts building support, starts to put himself into the public eye as the Heir of Slytherin/born under a great comet/destined and prophesized to be important/mystical cult leader-y type stuff. Maybe he runs for Minister of Magic in 1974 with Comet Kohoutek (which was rather hyped up in the media at the time and then, although it was briefly quite bright, rather failed to live up to the hype and faded fast)- and only fails to win the position because of a great deal of work on the part of Dumbledore and his allies; which would subsequently lead Voldy to seeking alternate methods of obtaining power. Maybe he takes the appearance of Comet West in 1976 (the year of SWM) as an omen to escalate DE activities and violence (maybe he only starts branding his DEs at this point, he’s been thwarted in his attempts to work at Hogwarts and to obtain legitimate political power, he’s at a point where he needs to reassure himself that his supporters won’t have a chance to abandon/deny him), so the first war with Voldemort (and tensions between houses at Hogwarts) really ramp up right about the time Lily and Severus’ friendship is disintegrating just like the comet's nucleus. 

Well, the 1986 regular visit from Comet Halley passed Voldy by due to his whole "attempting to murder the prophecy baby only to get hoisted by his own petard and left to float around as a wraith for a decade" thing, but when he made his physical return in the 90s there were some quite spectacular comets: Hyakutake  and Hale-Bopp (...Heaven's Gate one) in particular.

In this AU/headcanon/whatever this ramble is, I'd move the Azkaban mass breakout in OotP from January 1996 to late March when Hyakutake was shining in the sky- with Voldy delaying on taking major non-Nagini action post-resurrection until the auspicious appearance of a bright comet (…as opposed to not taking major action because his machinations have to line up better with Harry’s school year…). Then, Hale-Bopp starts to become naked-eye visible in May 1996 (around the end of OotP), which could be the sign that prompts Voldemort to finally lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries with the false vision.

Hale-Bopp was naked-eye visible for 18 months, twice as long as the previous record for a comet being visible (which was in 1811 or so).  Hale-Bopp was almost as bright as Sirius (the brightest star in the night sky) in late March/early April 1997 (so, during HBP) and only faded from naked-eye visibility around until December 1997 (or about the point in DH when Harry and Hermione went to Godric's Hollow and then manage to escape from Nagini); perhaps the combination of the comet that had been visible for so long fading from view and Harry escaping yet again drove Voldemort to more reckless moves to convince himself of his own importance/significance etc. since he'd not only failed to find the Elder Wand but also failed to kill Harry during the comet's reign?

Alright, so I am also very partial to the headcanon of a Severus with a childhood fondness for science fiction and fascination with space— as far as I’ve been able to find, the BBC aired the first episode of Star Trek on July 12th, 1969 and the lunar module would’ve landed around 8PM (GMT) on July 20th (if Sev stayed up until nearly 4AM into Monday the 21st, he could’ve seen Neil Armstrong walk on the moon.  Do I like to imagine he did?  Oh yes.  Perhaps Tobias took him to the Railview Hotel where there was a watch party, perhaps it was one of Tobias’ good mood days and Sev sat on his shoulders to see over the crowd and hardly nodded off at all.  Perhaps Sev had a sleepover at the Evans house, if July 1969 was a time when his da didn’t like much of anything. ...also, Sev could've seen "Amok Time" before going to Hogwarts...). Maybe a Severus who knew a bit more about space and such would've found treating comets like they were signs and portents a little embarrassing, it could've made him just a little less loyal/awed by the Dark Lord; but it could also mean that Sev would've heard about Hale-Bopp before it was visible to the eye/would’ve known that Voldy was going to see a sign to take dramatic action and would’ve dealt with that dreadful anticipation for nearly the entirety of OotP (Hale-Bopp was first detected in July 1995 (end of GoF) with telescopes, when it was somewhere between Jupiter and Saturn distances from earth).

In this, because I’m a little mean to evil Dark Lords/like things to be a bit more silly and absurd, I’d also put Dumbledore’s birth date and year as November 17th, 1882 (since we weren’t given one in the books and I know more about astronomy (which, again, is very little) than astrology). Not only should the Great Comet of 1882 have been visible at that point in time, that was also the date of a geomagnetic storm that resulted in a spectacular and very unusual aurora being visible in London (I think northern lights were also visible as far south as San Diego, California due to that particular solar discharge). Also, the Leonid (Leo the lion, Gryffindor connection there maybe?) meteor storm of 1966, while not visible in the UK, happened on November 17th (with peak rates of something like 10-40 meteors per second!?!). I just think it’d be awfully funny if Voldy, with an obsession over being special because of a comet around his birthdate, was tremendously jealous about how many fantastic natural phenomena happened on Dumbledore’s birth day (especially if Dumbledore, despite his best efforts to be or seem all-knowing, was entirely oblivious to that in particular).