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bluexiao · 1 year

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#second lead syndrome… or is it really?

–when they couldn’t confess their love for you, thinking you love someone else / seeing you with someone, looking in love, how would they react?

CHARACTERS. Albedo, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Cyno, Heizou, Kazuha, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer / Scaramouche, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader

THEMES. Some angst, some crack, and some fluff, (pick your fighter); non-established relationship (yall are not together, just friends)

NOTES. first ever multi hc for this year! yayy happy new year everyone~

ZHONGLI knew he was a god, and you weren’t. And even still, a part of him dreaded—desired you in a way that he never thought he would in a human. You were supposed to be one of his people.

But now he loves you more than that. And there only lies the question if you love him too.

Yet despite the dread to hold you in his arms and to proclaim of such mortal feelings he had attained for you, he holds back and forces himself to watch from afar. For a god like him has no reason to meddle with the fate of humans like you—no matter how he claims to be a mortal himself with the name he bears now.

And so, all he could do was watch you from afar, eyes fixed as if he was watching a theatre play unfoldon a stage that he chose to be an audience to, whereas the main lovers fall for each other, and all he could do was watch.

But then your eyes suddenly met, your smile like the sun that scorched his being, a gentle wave with your haand as you cal his name; “Zhongli! Can you come over here, will you?” It wasn’t even his real name, merely an identity he had chosen to keep as a result of wanting to live a mortal life.

A mortal life.

Maybe he should try living more with that—with you, he hopes.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO has no use for love. Such a measly thing it is—to devote oneself to another with just mere feelings and empty words of promises.

And so Xiao stands on the top of the inn, looking down, his spear nowhere to be found, arms folded over his chest, and gaze directly focused–your way.

You were talking and laughing at a certain human, looking ever so comfortable as you usually do with him–or maybe you were always like this to others, and that includes him.

Then, as if you had sensed his presence, you looked up to where he was, but he was far gone, disappearing as if he was never there. If he had only stayed and seen the frown on your face, he wouldn’t have had to waste his time hiding away from you.

Xiao, he soon realizes, does have a use for love, as this ache inside his chest is something he cannot quell just by merely equipping his spear and defeating monsters.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

WANDERER was never such a patient man. And besides, he isn’t even human.

It took a while to accept his… circumstances, and once he does, he will be very obvious with his so-called “feelings”, usually sticking to your side most of the time and glaring at practically anyone who would so much as dare to glance your way.

And as much as he is always near you, he will eventually notice whoever you will pay attention to–especially ones that would be constantly haggling over your sight. But he doesn’t do anything about it–doesn’t confess, doesn’t try to talk and ask to confirm his suspicions. Does he need to? No. He does not need affirmations because he is perfect enough to not need one–a perfect being who did not need such things as “love”, or “partner”s.

The words will die down in his mind when he sees you with someone else, however, form already right beside you as he finds himself glaring at whoever it was, “Oh realy? I can do that ten times better than you can,” he’d bark, already mocking at everything that the person does or claims themselves to be. Don’t misunderstand the Wanderer, he just thinks that this stranger is just too useless, you don’t need to waste your time over them.

‘But they’re human, unlike you,’ a voice inside his mind would say, but bites his lips, not letting that slip through his mouth.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

VENTI sings praises and is full of love. He is the god of freedom and the wind. He is a bard for goodness’ sake.

“I am but a simple bard, how in Teyvat would they even see a person such as I am worthy of them?” he cried theatrically as he took a chug of his wine–or whatever it was in the bottle in his hand. But no matter how much he looks, the weight in his heart was very much real nonetheless, the memory of you with someone else plaguing his mind.

A god such as him losing to a mortal over your love. What could anyone possibly say if they hear of such a tale? Perhaps he may just end up writing a song of his broken heart to somehow ease the pain. At least thatw ay, he could Mora…

But one must never underestimate a god’s love… as eh might find himself crawling back to your arms tomorrow morning.

He has a lifetime to win your heart, after all.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

TIGHNARI felt his feelings of care for you were normal. Of course, maybe he only favors you among the rest, even against his fellow rangers.

And something so normal is not supposed to bother him even in times when he’s supposed to be focusing. The forest is an unpredictable and dangerous place.

“What seems to be bothering you, Master?”

He halts from his tracks and turns to the other, “It’s nothing, Collei.”

But it’s not really “nothing” if he ends up walking away after reprimanding you and one of the other rangers for “lazing around”. And yes, that same one who had been lurking around near you lately, especialy when he’s not around.

Clearly, there must be something going on between that person and you. Of course, he could not possibly let anyone be so lax with this work, even if it’s you.

“You’re probably jealous, aren't you, Master? Aren’t you and Y/n dating?”

Colei can see and atone to how the other freezes—his tail and ears as well, and all he could do was watch as Collei giggles at him while nudging him with her elbows.

“Master and Y/n look very good together, and don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret if that’s what you want!”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

For once, KAZUHA was out of words.

Peace can be associated with silence, but silence is not always at peace–and now, the wind was completely silent.

“Not going to Y/n, kid?” Beidou stands next to him with crossed arms as they both have eyes focused your way. She sighs while she shakes her head, “Are you letting them go that easily?”

He feels his stomach drop, but the ghost of a smile on his lips masks the feelings he has inside. “They don’t belong to anyone but themselves, and that includes me,” he looks away and turns around, the breeze slapping his face just as much as reality does, “they are free to love, even if it will not be me.”

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

HEIZOU knows everything.

But this one he just found out is probably one of the things he just wished he didn’t find out.

Well, technically, it was a good thing!, he says to himself. After all… he always teased you and now, he probably did the right thing instead of… telling the truth.

Ah, by all means, he is no hypocrite. But, he does wonder when you had liked another person, and why? Surely, he had made himself known to you, with your daily meetups and banters, and you were even his “partner” in a case once. Perhaps he relied in his ability far too much that he forgot purpose for all of his efforts.

The least he could do was to support you in the sidelines… right? Surely he doesn’t like you that much to remain helpless in this situation.

When he saw you with that person the next day, he knew his resolve was far gone.

He must definitely find out what made you fall in love with this person…

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

CYNO does not know what he was going to do. And so, what does he do?

He hides in the corner and observes.

Of course, he can just walk right past both you and the person who you’ve been eating lunch with for the past hour, but for some reason, he can’t. Something about the scene right in front of him makes him want to interrogate the person; what their job was, who their family are, what other things they do—they cannot possibly hang with you if they have a bad record. All the more, what if they have bad intentions towards you?

And so, with his mind made up, that was what he does. At least, intends to do until you saw him and he met your eyes.

“Cyno! There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!” Once you had caled him oevr, the person scrambles up an excuse and runs away as soon as they can, even stumbling over a few times.

All Cyno could do was watch as the perosn runs away and sighs, sitting right beside you and crosses his arms.

“Who was that? What do they do? Are they from the Akademiya? I haven’t seen them before.”

“Oh, I don’t know, they just came here and sat in front of me.”

He is definitely hunting down that person until his questions are diminished.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

What AYATO wants, Ayato gets.

Of course, that does not mean that he treats everything or everyone lightly, on the contrary, he does what he can to attain anything or anyone that he sees as valuable. With someone of his caliber, it would not be too difficult to get people to turn his way.

You, however, was someone who piqued his interest. Yet despite this, he lets you be, not doing anything… until he had seen you with someone else—a retainer of another Commissioner.

He reasons with himself that he only stepped beside you and piped in to the conversation out of being wary towards the other retainer—eh coudl not possibly have you, his friend, to be too exposed with the works of the Tri-Commision now, right?—and with his position and words, the retainer soon walks away.

“Now that they are gone, what do you say about having tea with me this afternoon, Y/n? Unless you have a scheduled date with that… retainer.” He tries to mask his disbelief, and thankfuly, you didn’t notice.

He ignores how you looked away, seemingly flustered for a moment as you mumble a small “Sure… and we’re not dating, master Ayato… it’s not like that.”

He looks away with a smile. Certainly, this is far better.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALHAITHAM is rational. Most of the time.

“O-Of course, The Scribe must be very knowledgeable, compared to a lowly person like me,” says the other person that Al-Haitham did not really catch the name of right after he just questioned the person’s intelligence (very subtly at that).

“Oh come on, you’re not lowly-“

“This is why it is important to raise our knowledge, even to the little things, as we do not know what we might encounter. If you want, I can even refer you to the Akademiya, you don’t need to thank me.”

“I-I’ll think about it… thank… I mean, see you later, Y/n… and Scribe Al-Haitham,” the person sooner leaves without any more fight.

“Hey…. What is it with you? Something ruined your morning or something?” You npeered at him and he merely looks away whilst clearing his throat.

‘We were losing our time. I wanted to eat our lunch as soon as possible. Why? Are you suposed to be on a date with that… person?”

“What? What on Teyvat are you saying?” Your reply makes him crack a smirk. Of course, he was right. How could he even think that you were dating that person… at least, he won’t let that happen.

┌───────── · · · · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ALBEDO respects you a lot. A whole lot.

Yet that respect comes with admiration, and sooner, he realizes that this admiration might have been stronger than he had thought the moment he saw you with someone else.

He does not engage, however, merely waiting until you had finished your conversation with that certain someone, looking quite joyful than any time else, more than the times you had spent with him, actually.

“Albedo! There you are,” you grinned at him after walking away, even looking back at the figure of the person you had talked to.

His eyes peers at you like a hawk, taking note of everything; with the brightness of your smile, to the shine in your eyes, and to the giggle that erupts from your lips.

Had he ever seen such qualities in your face before? He couldn’t help but question himself as you send him one as well.

“Sorry, just got immersed in the topic… shall we go?”

He forces out a smile—which seemed real nonetheless, “Of course.”

“Hm?” You tilt your head to the side, “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he immediately answers, thinking that you probably had noticed his staring. He raises his hand and smiles, “shall we?”

He squeezes your hand when you willingly took his. Ah, maybe he could be greedy… just this time, he thinks.

comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated! ♡

taglist on reblogs!

#yaepublishinghouse #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #venti x reader #scara x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader

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stolenres-if · 6 months

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DEMO TBA (EDITING)

Genres: superhero, dark, fame

CW: violence, explicit language and themes, dark themes, immoral behavior and situations

After a villain almost decimated the world as you know it, you and four other people were chosen by the hands of fate to gain powerful abilities and become a member of Legion, humanity's only hope.

Because of that, you became celebrities in your own right. Red carpets, photoshoots, commercials for energy drinks and more. After a while it felt like the villain would never return and you'd be stuck being a celebrity for powers you don't even use.

Until the villain does return.

And you win.

Unfortunately, you paid the ultimate price: you died and became a martyr.

Or so...everyone thought.

Six years later, you wake up in the same spot you were in with no memory of the last near decade of your life. While only a night has gone by for you, for everyone else? A lifetime.

Everyone has moved on with their lives. The friends you considered family barely speak to each other, all of them haunted by everything that came after the fight. You have no recollection of anything…except something inside you knows your reappearance was no ordinary coincidence.

Especially when you begin to hear a voice in your head, commanding you, telling you to destroy everything in your path….

Stolen Resurrection is 18+ gritty IF that's a mixture of fame and super heroism. You are a member of the elite Legion, believed to be dead for half a decade until you wake up to a changed world six years later.

Customize your MC from personality, appearance, gender identity and their persona. Do they embrace the celebrity life or reject it? Do they love their position as someone forced to sacrifice their life for the good of the world or do they resent it?

Curate whether your MC will move on or stay stuck in the past. Choose how to approach every situation and every person from your past and present life.

Navigate a world in which you are famed for being a chosen one and choose how you approach that.

Wake up six years after people believing you dead. Deal with the aftermath of grief and loss you left in your wake.

Romance ROs with different personalities and different feelings/thoughts towards your 'resurrection' and everything else.

Character-driven narrative with an emphasis on the choices you make and the relationships you build.

Prepare and train for a villain who may or may not be using you as their puppet.

Die. And then come back to life.

THE EX FIANCÉ // THE SELLOUT: CATH HARRISON [M/F][RO]

Your ex and old Legion member, Cath has become the most prominent and beloved figure in New America. Once kind, charismatic, and a charmer, Cath is now the stoic poster child for the company that made Legion. So much so, that your old friends call them a sellout. Cal was proposing to you when everything went to hell all those years ago. When you return, you find them remarried. Cath has moved on...or have they?

THE OLD FRIEND // THE STRANGER: REA SANTOS [F][RO]

Once your closest friend and fellow Legion member, Rea has grown cold over the years, haunted by that fateful night. Even though she still has love for the team, she does her best to rebel as much as possible as revenge for the attack that took a life she can never get back. While she understands your disappearance and subsequent reappearance is not your fault, she can't help but blame you for not being around. Rea is a stranger to you now and whatever friendship you two had is successfully dead.

THE FORMER FAN // THE PRO: JAMES SATO [M][RO]

James, bright and wide-eyed, was once your biggest fan, gloating that he was going to apply to NAG Labs because of you. He also had a childish admiration for you that you found endearing at best and a nuisance at worse. Now, years later, James is somehow as old as you, has long moved on past his fan phase, and is the new head of the division that created you. Oddly enough, it feels weird without James Sato not following you around like a lost puppy. Have the roles reversed?

THE EX FLAME // THE HERMIT: NICO/NAOMI CARTER [M/F][RO]

Once the sunshine and comedic relief of the team, N has disappeared, becoming a shell of their former self. They do nothing else but stay in the bar, drinking their sorrows away. They are considered hostile and want nothing to do with the team or the Company since your death. N may have had feelings for you in the past, but you're not too sure. It's not as if you could ever pursue that years ago. Now? Well, it seems like it's all too late.

OTHER CHARACTERS

??? -- your hear them in your head. Is this the person who has trapped you all this time?

Ray Trent (m) -- your old teammate and close friend. No one speaks of Ray, and you wonder where's he gone and what he's been through that makes him such a sore topic for everyone.

Logan Kane (m) -- the new head of NAG and currently running for president of New America. The son of the now dead head that you were once close to. Logan doesn't trust you. Your reappearance has set him on edge.

Hello, if you'd like to know what happened and why this blog was deleted before. You can check here! Reblogs and everything else is appreciated! Thank you :)

#interactive fiction wip #interactive fiction #interactive novel #if wip #interactive wip #cog wip #choice of games #cog #cog if

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kenjakusbrainstem · 7 months

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Too Much (Kenjaku x Reader x Mahito)

Contains: Double penetration in one hole, manhandling, cunnilingus, m/f/m threesome.

Hello! Day 16 of Kinktober: Double penetration in one hole! This was fun as I just love writing Kenjaku and Mahito together. No real thoughts on this one other than how nice it was to write them having a consensual threeway for once! Crossposted to Ao3 under the same name and shared to twt at kenjakusbrain! Comment or rb if you like <3

Over the decades of devotedly following Kenjaku, you’d met a lot of eccentric people. From strange sorcerers, to power hungry humans, you really felt like there was no way anything could surprise you anymore. However, with Kenjaku’s curiosity and love for chaos, he always managed to keep you on your toes.

His latest group was no exception, though they did treat you a little differently. While Kenjaku was playing the role of Suguru Geto, you found yourself in a role not too far from your true identity: a devout follower, someone that would do any and everything they were told. While you had more autonomy than that, it did amuse you to be so open about your dedication. To the group of curses he was working with, you were sure they thought of you as some mindless curse user, regardless of how much work you did for their cause.

The only one that seemed interested in you was Mahito, ironically the one parading as a human. You felt that he understood you in some way, the same way Kenjaku did. While you never explained too much about your technique or identity to the curse, his curiosity showed you that he saw through your mindless devotee mask. Though you did choose to humor him on the occasion you saw each other, Mahito’s near ignorance was integral to Kenjaku’s plan.

You never minded helping either of them though, so when Kenjaku approached you with an odd proposition, you were inclined to agree. His interest in breeding and creating ideal offspring to be vessels had waned over the years, but you knew how much fun he had when experimenting. You’d aided him when he inhabited the body of Noritoshi Kamo, so you were intimately aware of what he was capable of. You weren’t sure how much of this proposal was about procreation, or if he was genuinely interested in exposing Mahito to new human experiences.

Kenjaku had asked you to aid him in teaching Mahito about sex. You knew he’d fucked the curse before, so it wasn’t too far fetched for him to include you. Something about being able to get the full experience, he’d said. Apparently it was harder for him to properly guide Mahito when he was buried inside the curse, which made sense to you. The vessel he currently inhabited was more sensitive than others he’d used.

That was how you ended up in your current situation, fully nude on Kenjaku’s bed with Mahito in between your thighs. The curse’s tongue was something you’d never experienced in all your years. It had split in two and was lazily pumping inside of you while circling your clit at the same time. You convulsed in pleasure, not expecting to feel so much from a curse that needed to be taught.

The only thing grounding you was the body pressed up against you. Kenjaku lay at your side, head resting on your chest as his hand was in Mahito’s hair, making sure the curse kept up the pace and didn’t stop until you were ready. The way Mahito’s tongue wrapped around your clit, flicking at the sensitive bud made your thighs quiver.

“Make sure she’s ready to take you, Mahito. I showed you just how important stretching is, now give her the same courtesy I gave you,” Kenjaku ordered, his voice gentle as he pressed Mahito’s face against your pussy. You knew Kenjaku wasn’t speaking to you but you still felt the need to do as he said, there was just something about his tone that made you want to please him.

Shifting your hips, you ground your pussy into Mahito’s face, his tongue pressing deeper inside of you with each thrust. As if he too wanted to do what Kenjaku said, you felt the tongue inside you become thicker, pressing against your walls instead of teasing them. Before you knew it, Mahito’s tongue was almost too big to fit inside of you.

Each thrust of his tongue made you feel impossibly full, it was more than you’d ever had inside of you at once before. You could feel how wet you were, a mix of your juices and Mahito’s saliva coating your thighs. It was hard to tell because of how wet you were, but you hadn’t even hit your peak yet. The curse was making you feel so good, but it just hadn’t been enough to push you over the edge.

Mahito’s tongue increased in pace, fucking inside of you just a little faster. The speed change made you clench around his tongue, he was so close to getting you off you could almost taste it.

Suddenly, the fullness was gone along with the hot tongue wrapped around your clit. You whined, clenching your aching pussy around nothing. Opening your eyes you noticed Kenjaku wasn’t at your side anymore either, he had pulled Mahito up and was kissing him feverishly. You were accustomed to Kenjaku’s more eager, violent kisses, but it was more than arousing to watch him suck your juices off of Mahito’s tongue.

Mahito’s eyes rolled back as Kenjaku held him by the hair still, forcing his head back in a deep kiss. You enjoyed the view, being able to watch Kenjaku take control of someone like this, watching his body and tongue move when you knew how they felt made you want him even more.

“Switch places with her Mahito, I think I know just what you both need,” Kenjaku said, his suggestive voice adding even more fuel to the lustful fire inside of you. You watched as he let go of Mahito, reaching out to you.

You grasped at his hand with both of yours, allowing him to help you pull yourself up. Forgetting Mahito’s presence for a moment, you pressed your face into Kenjaku’s broad chest, loving the feeling of your bare skin pressed together. He places a soft kiss to the top of your head before he turned you around, your back pressing against his torso.

Looking down at the patchwork curse’s nude body, you had to admit he was the most attractive looking curse you’d ever seen. His features were similar to Kenjaku’s but body was much more lithe than sturdily built. His cock was hard and leaking against his pelvis, not too big to intimidate you. Though knowing he could manipulate his body at will did make you a little nervous.

Kenjaku’s hands went to your hips, urging you forward. You followed his lead, putting your knees on either side of the curse’s hips. When you were in position on top of Mahito, you felt Kenjaku’s hand on your back, pushing you down onto the curse. Leaning forward you felt Kenjaku’s hand slip in between your bodies, grabbing Mahito’s cock and rubbing the tip up against your entrance.

You moaned, unable to keep your sounds in any longer as you felt Kenjaku press the head of Mahito’s cock inside of you. Kenjaku’s hands moved out from between you and grabbed your hips, pushing you down and forcing the curse’s cock inside of you. You watched Mahito’s face contort in pleasure as he throbbed inside of you. According to Kenjaku, he’d not let Mahito fuck him yet, only sucked him off, so this was likely the first time he’d been buried inside someone else.

A little more manhandling from Kenjaku and you were full of Mahito’s cock, he pulled you up, your back flush with his chest once more. Kenjaku’s hands didn’t leave your hips, he wanted full control over both of you and it seemed you were both eager to give it to him.

As Kenjaku started to bounce you on Mahito’s cock, you let yourself get lost in the way he felt inside of you. Mahito was average size, so you wondered why Kenjaku had been so insistent on stretching, but you were barely able to even think about that with the way he moved your body. Being on top was always fun to you, but now it felt so good, Mahito’s cock bumping into your spot with ease as Kenjaku controlled the pace.

Mahito’s hands reached out, sliding up your body and grabbing onto your breasts as they bounced in front of them. He squeezed the flesh harshly, making your pussy squeeze around him. It was like he wanted to touch you, but didn’t know what to do exactly, the curse’s inexperience showing.

Kenjaku slowly bent your body forward, your sensitive breasts rubbing up against Mahito’s chest with every bounce of your hips. You were now face to face with the curse, both of you moaning messes. With your open mouths so close, you couldn’t help but kiss Mahito. The kisses were sloppy and both of you moaned into each other's mouths, pleasure too much to keep inside.

Trailing kisses down your spine, Kenjaku sat himself upright, leaving you to focus on kissing Mahito for a moment while he got into position. The whole point to this, the guise of teaching Mahito how to properly fuck someone, was so that he could enjoy you both together. You likely would have agreed even without that, but it was fun for him to have another layer of motivation.

One of his hands left your hip, the other continuing to guide you up and down Mahito’s cock. You wondered what he was doing, but it didn’t take long for you to figure out. Kenjaku’s movements paused, the hand that was bouncing you was now holding you both still with Mahito still buried inside of you.

Before you had a chance to ask what he was doing, you felt the head of his cock prodding up against your entrance alongside Mahito’s. Your eyes snapped open, lips still pressed up against Mahito’s so you were unable to speak. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kenjaku, you were just worried Mahito hadn’t stretched you enough.

“Both of you hold still. It’s my turn to join the fun now,” Kenjaku said, voice an almost whisper as he tried to press the head of his cock into your already full pussy. If Mahito was average, Kenjaku’s cock was large, his vessel was more well endowed than nearly all of the ones you’d been intimate with in the past.

It wasn’t long before his insistent rubbing against your wet entrance allowed the head of his cock to slip inside. The stretch was unlike anything you’d ever felt before, it burned but didn’t exactly hurt. The feeling was indescribable, you could feel your pussy clenching around them but tried to relax your muscles. You knew it would be harder for Kenjaku to fuck you like this if your pussy was trying to push him out.

Kenjaku’s hands both returned to your hips, thumbs massaging circles into your flesh as he slowly pressed further into you. Your kiss with Mahito had turned into you trying to focus on breathing while he kissed around your lips, tongue cleaning up evidence of the sloppy kiss you’d shared. His little moans told you that he was also enjoying the way Kenjaku’s cock felt beside his.

Once Kenjaku was fully inside of you, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, the stretch and feeling of his cock so much further inside of you than Mahito’s made your legs tremble.

“You’re so tight like this, it shouldn’t take long now just hold on,” Kenjaku said, voice barely composed as he slowly started thrusting in and out of you. Being so full, you felt so much more. Each thrust, no matter how slow you could feel every vein, every twitch of Kenjaku’s cock inside of you.

Even Mahito’s cock felt like too much, Kenjaku’s cock forcing it to stay pressed up against your spot. With every one of Kenjaku’s thrusts it rubbed up against it and filled you with even more pleasure.

After a few thrusts, Kenjaku picked up the pace and began to fuck into you in earnest. You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full, or that it could feel this good to have your pussy stuffed with two different cocks. The sounds leaving your mouth were pitiful, each thrust left you whining, only able to stop moaning when Mahito’s tongue entered your mouth. The curse kept trying to kiss you, as if he was unsure what to do with himself.

You could see that he was enjoying this too, his moans blending in with your own to make a lewd chorus of praise for the way Kenjaku used you both. The only other sound you could register was the slick squelching noise of Kenjaku fucking into you. It was almost embarrassing to know that such a sound was coming from you, but you were far too lost in pleasure to care about that.

Kenjaku’s fingers moved to spread you open more, making it so he could look down and watch his cock disappear into your messy pussy. You felt so tight even though you had never been more open for him. The sight made him pump his cock into you faster, harder than he had been. The gentle edge to his thrusts gone as he fucked into you, chasing his own pleasure.

It was too much for you, from the stretch of the cocks inside you, to Kenjaku’s rough thrusting, even Mahito’s insistent sloppy kisses were pushing you over the edge. You felt yourself release, pussy spasming around the cocks inside of you. The intensity of your orgasm was so much more than you had expected, you weren’t sure if you had blacked out for a moment or if your eyes had rolled back into your head too far. Everything around you felt dizzying.

At the feeling of your pussy spasming, Mahito also was forced over the edge. His cock throbbing as he spilled inside of you. The pleasure being too much for him, he bit down on your lip, adding the taste of blood to your kiss.

Through both of your orgasms Kenjaku just kept thrusting, it was hard for him to not get off immediately when your pussy was trying to milk him dry with each twitch of its walls. He was close though, leaning down he rested his forehead on your back, body bending at a strange angle to give him more leverage. Fucking into you as hard as he could, not caring about keeping rhythm or how violent his thrusts were.

It was easier for him to move inside of you with Mahito’s cock now soft, each thrust felt different than the last and that was what finally pushed Kenjaku to join you both in bliss. Pressing in as deep as he could, Kenjaku emptied himself, hot release filling you up. You could even feel it leaking out around his cock.

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, Kenjaku being the first to move when Mahito started whining about being sensitive. After he pulled himself out of you, he lifted you up off of the curse’s cock. You’d hoped he was going to let you rest but when your back hit the mattress you felt him lift your trembling legs into the air.

Kenjaku kissed at your thighs, not caring that Mahito was watching the strange display of affection. Gently, he spread your folds open to look at the effect he’d had on your pussy. It was puffy and leaking, you wanted to close your legs at the thought of him looking into your gaping entrance. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, pulling a high pitched whine from your throat.

“You did so good, once you rest a little more we can show Mahito even more fun he could have,” Kenjaku said, grinning up at you like he had more in mind. His words were teasing and threatening at the same time. You were, as always, excited and aroused at what he meant.

#kenjaku #mahito #getomahi #jjk x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #jjk smut #mahito smut #kenjaku x reader #kenjaku x mahito #kenjaku x mahito x reader

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seasonofprophecy · 8 months

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It shouldn't be that serious but I haaate people summarizing Simon and his struggles in Fionna and Cake as the symptoms of one mental illness or another. Like, his struggle with being content now that he's Simon again echo depression and he very well may have it. The way I've seen some people examine his character and conflict through a pathological lens, though, just picks out what words and actions they can diagnose as some documented and studied condition. They divorce his character and conflict from his setting, his time as the Ice King, and how he fits in the extended narrative of Adventure Time.

Simon is a pre-mushroom bomb era human in a post-mushroom bomb world. The people he knew, the surroundings he's come to understand, and the life trajectory he had going are all long gone. He's come to in a new society where things function in much more fantastical, irrational, and advanced ways. He's been a part of this society- even shaping it- as the Ice King, and now he must continue playing into the happenings of Ooo as Simon Petrikov. The new civilizations are alien, the new Earth functions by new social and natural laws, and he has the remains of new life that disgusts, horrifies, and humiliates him.

Simon spent almost a thousand years as a man stripped of his former values, dignity, and cognisance. As the Ice King, he lost his ability to control himself, and inflicted what would accumulate to be significant harm unto others. He learned how to get along with others by the end of his time as the Ice King, but those years were a blip in the span of a near millennium, and the degree of self-control he learned was basic decency. Simon spent his life before the mushroom bomb developing to be a composed and academic man, and endured having his antecedent personal growth and his own autonomy regarding his identity nullified by the ice crown.

Adventure time is a fantasy show that explores the consequences of the endless possibilities inherent to a fantastical setting. Powerful magic and magical existences destroy and ruin lives, abundances of mystical organisms amount to exhausting effort to defend oneself from danger, and the lack of predictability of what the world has to offer someone next spells out a compromised sense of security and stability.

Simon/the Ice King's story is one example of the show's exploration of the undesirable side of fantasy, and one story that's been built on for over eight years now. It's a story with circumstances unique to the show, with numerous writers informing its contents, with some parts planned and some spontaneous. It's a charged story, and it's narratively reductive to effectively whittle Simon's character and conflict as the showing of a real world mental illness

#messages from mars #adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #the ice king #atimers #damn i did not mean to write an essay but his character means a lot to me #for the record i relate to him a lot from a real-world angle (i became disabled and lost a lot of myself) but i don't like the idea of #taking how i relate to him and making that my whole character interpretation of him #especially since I've been watching the show and following simon's story since before i became disabled

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circeyoru · 1 month

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You Think It’s That Easy? _ Part 2 = Requested

[Yandere Human & Demon!Alastor x Arranged Marriage!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 2 (here)

You heard of Alastor’s death from the news, an accidental while he was in the bayou in the dead of night, mistaken as a deer by a couple of hunters and feasted upon by their hunting dogs. When the mistake was realized, it was already too late. Alastor was already dead

But that wasn’t what concerned you. It was the news that tied Alastor’s death to the death or disappearance of another individual. The Bayou Serial Killer, which has been ever so active as if possessed, stopped all activities after Alastor’s death. Loyal fans of Alastor’s radio show said it was a coincidence, some even trying to provoke the silent killer to prove Alastor’s innocence. To everyone’s horror, Alastor was not so innocent

The Bayou Serial Killer is and was Alastor, the famous radio host. Though to you, Alastor was more than that, he was your childhood friend and a good partner of a false marriage to satisfy both side’s parents, then later continued to ward off suitors for either of you two. Now there was one more identity of Alastor in your mind

A heartless killer

You realized that the late nights Alastor had before you left were all Alastor’s murder playtime. You should have known when he brushed off your worries for his safety, he whispered that he’ll be fine since he is confident in his self-defense. He didn’t tell you it was because he was the killer everyone feared

Yet the moment you felt a chill down your spine was when you remembered the promises Alastor made to you

“I’ll keep you safe.”

“You know I can deal with your troubles if you just ask, right?”

“I won’t let anything or one harm you, never.”

“Anyone that crosses you will face so much misfortune, you know?”

“Hahaha! How dare they prey you like vultures when you have me.”

The suitors that came to you and disappeared soon after… You now know what happened to them. Alastor happened. He killed them all. But you can’t understand why. What was the reason behind the killing and how had you never known?

That wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you felt guilty and fearful of the news. Couldn’t you have prevented all Alastor’s killing if you were more attentive? If you two hadn’t been as distant from each other to living your preferred lives, would things be different?

As a reminder to not be too involved with yourself and ignore others, you kept a red radio on the shelves by your books in the living room. Also a reminder that Alastor was gone

It wasn’t long before weird things started happening. First was that the radio would start up itself without anyone going near it, it wasn’t even powered so it was practically impossible for someone to turn it on or for the radio to play anything. First it was classic music, then it was love songs you’d hum from time to time, after that was eerie slow music with screams from time to time

Then items around your home would disappear and reappear somewhere. Your work left undone would be miraculously done when you wake up to continue doing it, even when you napped on top of it

You tried taking it to the shop to fix it but the shop owner said it was in perfect condition, no malfunction. You tried throwing it away even, but it appeared back on your shelf at its usual place

But when you tried banishing the radio with paranormal experts, those people that helped you all disappeared and then their bodies turned up like something clawed at them or poke something sharp into them. As weird as it was, police chalked it up with a raging deer or bears. Neither were good ends

What you’re worried about was how your lover, now husband was missing ever since the radio started piecing out your name and sweet nicknames that reminded you of Alastor

It wasn’t until once you got drunk and stumbled through the streets, trying to get home. You were pulled into an alley with someone trying to force themselves on you. In that drunken daze, everything was a blur and you weren’t in your right mind, so you didn’t even know why you called out that name

“Help… someone… Help me…” You tried fighting off or at least struggle against the grip but your limbs all felt like noodles. “Al… Alastor…”

“Of course, Love.”

You didn’t see the shadows raise and clawed hands gripping so tightly on your assailant’s arm that they released you. You knew you slumped down against the wall, your head bobbing back and forth and your hair all over the place to the point of covering one of your eyes

You didn’t hear your rescuer tear your attacker like paper, blood overflowing like a spring fountain, yet none got onto you. The screams of pain and the cries of mercy from your attacker who has now become the prey

The scene you saw, your mind didn’t register it, you were way too intoxicated from all the alcohol you drank to drown out your loneliness. You left Alastor, then he died and his secrets brought to light made you feel like you were not supportive enough. You missed your husband who’s on missing posters. Everything was so frustrating and sad at the same time

When it was all done, Alastor, in his shadowy form, kneeled in front of you, staring into your eyes. His fingers snapped and both of you reappeared back at your home. You in Alastor’s hold, carried like a princess, like during the wedding you two pretended to have and Alastor carried you all the way to the dance floor

“You’re so red, Alastor.” You slurred, eying his coat that was in a shade different from how you remember, why was it red? He wears dark brown ones. Your finger poked his cheeks, “Your smile’s too wide, if you smile this much, you’ll hurt your cheers.”

“It’s fine, Dearest.” Alastor spoke. Did you even hear the radio filter over his voice?

“I want to dance… I missed dancing with you…” You lamented as you lowered your finger to lay on your stomach with a pouty frown. “It’s been so long…”

“I think you need to rest, Darling.” Alastor started moving to your room. How did he know? No, did you even notice the way his eyes glowed when you mentioned missing him?

When you were laid down on the bed and tugged in, your clothes were magically changed to clean ones comfortable for sleeping soundly. “You’re leaving when I fall asleep… I just know it…”

The urge can’t be ignored. Alastor spent too long waiting and he is ready. “Well, if you agree, we can be together forever.”

“We’ll be back again?”

“Yes. If you shake my hand and wear this.” Alastor showed you a familiar band of gold. He kept it all these years, when he could first go to Earth due to your soul being binded to his, he searched high and low for it.

Your confused and tired mind honed in on the ring. A familiar and comforting thing you given up, tears swell and a hand reached for it. “We’ll be back? Alastor…”

“Yes.”

“Okay…”

When your eyes opened, you were met with a major headache and an unfamiliar room. Looking around, you tried to get your bearings. While you did, you tried to remember what happened. Was this some stranger’s home? You immediately lifted up the blanket and looked under, sighing when that didn’t seem to have happened in your drunken state

You finally took in your surroundings. It wasn’t unfamiliar now, it was nostalgic. A replica of the appearance of what was your shared bedroom with Alastor when you two were still playing house. You shook your head, expecting all this to be your hallucination

Yet it didn’t fade back to what was supposed to be your bedroom. Confusion and fear set in. As did the memories of last night. What happened? Did you hallucinate Alastor appearing and saving you? But that didn’t look like Alastor. That can’t be Alastor. A monster. A demon. That’s what it was

Though Alastor was the only one to make you feel that at peace and calm and relaxed. The voice was his, just with an odd radio filter

The door to the room opened and the Alastor you met last night appeared in your sights. He closed the door behind him, smiling, “Welcome home, Dear Wife of mine.”

As Alastor had sworn, he brought you to Hell. You were his and he was yours. Try to run and it won’t be successful. For the two of your souls are bound together.

Note: I'mma out of ideas for this one, so before you ask for a part 3. Just know that the likelihood of it happening is very very rare since I got other series that's more active now. There could be trivia or asks, that's what I consider to be extra parts to this one.

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @chirimeimei @gameperson23100 @marukun @belletifeshyl @craftyperfectiontragedy

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #You Think It’s That Easy?

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elexuscal · 4 months

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Danny Phantom ghost things i'd want in a hypothetical reboot

so like the rest of the fandom, i've had my own ideas for cool ways Danny's ghost powers could operate fermenting for over a decade. not all of these are wholly original-- i'm sure they've been influenced by a bunch of other fanworks over the years. but while it'll (probably) never happen, i'd love to see them depicted in shiny, professional animation

ghosts are ideas, manifested. their appearance and powers are all directly linked to the shape and powers of that idea.

when Danny first turned, his 'ghost form' was barely anything at all. wispy, insubstantial. he was still weak from his [near] death experience, confused and scared, and these moments where he's apparently lose all visibility and corporeality were as confusing as they were terrifying, creating an awful negative feedback loop

Gradually, as Danny came to understand and anticipate these ghostly transformations, his form solidified. by the time the show starts, his ghost form is basically identical to his normal human form, just with the expected palette swap

Danny starts to realise his body is malleable in that form, and experiments a bit. mostly with realising he turn his legs into a wispy tail to go faster, or maybe changing his body for a goof

but there are subtler, gradual changes.

as Danny becomes more confident with his Phantom persona, as it becomes a genuine alter-ego, Phantom's appearance changes.

Phantom's a little taller. A little more muscular. His jaw a little more chiseled. His hair goes from "mundane dishevelment" to "anime protagonist spikiness".

yes, this goes great with transguy!Danny, thanks

these changes are gradual, maybe a single tweak to the character design per episode. enough that by episode 13 or so, if you were to put images of Fenton and Phantom side-by-side, you'd realise they were no longer just palette swaps

unfortunately, there are downsides to this ghostly nature

Danny's ghost form (and sometimes even his human form) is directly linked to his mental state.

if Danny's insecure? Phantom can become weak and insubstantial. Scared? Small and childlike. And if he's angry? Well...

Twisted claws for fingers, teeth contorting into fangs, strange waving tentacles emanating from his body...

Maybe there's a reason people don't recognise Phantom as human. Let alone as that Fenton kid from down the street.

sometimes, though. someone swears they'll see Danny Fenton's eyes flash green in the darkness. just for a moment.

being a ghost isn't just cool super powers. have it be, in a very real way, eldritch.

#danny phantom #trans danny phantom

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folksaga-if · 10 months

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“It is a long story, and it does no credit to anyone: there is murder in it, and trickery, lies and foolishness, seduction and pursuit. Listen."

- Neil Gaiman, Norse Mythology

You are a human. A totally normal one.

Honestly.

You’re a human. You’re a bartender, which is a very normal job for a human to have, and when you walk down the winding streets of Akureyri you can blend seamlessly into any crowd of people which is, without question, only something that a human could do.

The fact that you came here two years ago with nothing but the clothing on your back doesn’t mean anything; you’re hardly northern Iceland’s first wayfaring soul. That you had no money to your name, no friends or family to speak of — that’s a fairly average human thing, too. And that little craving you have, that quiet urge to dig your teeth into any passing stranger’s throat? It's completely, entirely mundane.

It’s manageable. You’re managing.

Or you were, until someone — someone who's decidedly notas good at this human thing as you are — begins leaving a trail of dead bodies at your doorstep, and a trio of god-like siblings take a seat at your bar.

MAGNI THORSON .

No doubt the mightiest of his siblings, the eldest child of Thor is exactly the sort of person you would expect him to be: a giant (half-giant, in fact) asshole with a smoulder and a knife-sharp jawline to match. He’ll match your every word with a cocky grin and a joke that’s nowhere near as funny as he thinks, and he’ll look every inch the prince that he is all the while.

(Well, the prince that he was. Just don’t let him hear you say that.)

MODI THORSON .

For the supposed embodiment of his father’s wrath, the God of Thunder’s second son is surprisingly…not that. He’s no picnic, mind you — he’s broody, he’s secretive, and he's fucking intense, but that hardly equates to fury incarnate. You’re sure there’s something hiding under that moody surface; whether or not you want to uncover it is a different story entirely.

(Looks like even gods aren’t immune to middle-child syndrome. Who knew?)

THRÚD THORSDÓTTIR .

Valkyrie, seidhr,paragon of strength — with all of her mother’s best traits (and a few of her father’s worst), is it any wonder that Thor’s youngest child was also his favourite? Smarter than her half-brothers and more likeable by a longshot, you might find yourself forgetting how easily the fortune-telling goddess could break you in two. You might, but she’ll be happy to remind you if you do.

(Maybe a little too happy, in fact.)

KATLA B̶͍̏L̸̝͑O̵̟͠M̴̳̓Q̴̯̔V̵̺͆I̷̗͛S̵̠͒T̸̬̒ .

A fellow nomad and your coworker at Black Thunder, the first friend you made in Akureyri has remained your closest. Mischevious, magnetic, and often up to no small amount of trouble, there are times when you think you might know Katla better than you know yourself. You even know about her…well, you know that she…sorry, what were you talking about again?

(It's just that it’s nice, being close to someone who’s so very human.)

THE MARE .

There’s a voice in your head and a shadow in your dreams, and they’re telling you to run. You probably shouldn’t trust them.

(…Right?)

Customize your monster character. New life, new you! Choose your gender identity, change your name, cut your hair, and remember: if you’re starting to grow tired of running from your past, try on a new outfit and start running faster.

Play as one of three runway creatures from Norse mythology — a cunning keeper of the forest, a charming warden of the lake, or a formidable guardian of the mountains. Each has its quirks (would you prefer a hollowed-out tree for a back, or webbed fingers and forearms covered in scales?), but they all have two key things in common: they’ll killto protect their homes, and you’redefinitely not one of them.

Choose your own fate, out of the countless that are presented to you. Had oatmeal instead of skyr with your breakfast this morning? You might have just brought about Ragnarök 2.0. Nice one, asshole.

Multiple romance options, with each available to pursue regardless of your gender or background. Ever wanted to kiss a god under a starry sky? Now's your chance! Or maybe you’re through with immortal beings and desperate to ask the pretty server on a date? Go for it! She’s definitelya human too. Totally. You’d be able to tell if she wasn’t. Wouldn’t you?

Save the world — or don’t.It's your choice, and isn't that what true freedom is all about?

Folksaga is inspired by The Edda, Norse mythology, andTwin Peaks, with a bit of tweaking to the myths as needed for the sake of plot. MC backgrounds have been adjusted to fit for all players regardless of gender identity, and creative liberty has been taken with some smaller points for a smoother storytelling experience. All changes will be explained in an FAQ post (too be added in the links below ASAP!)

AS OF AUGUST 21 UPDATE: The current demo consists of the prologue (introductory lore + character creation), + chapter 1, about 70k words total.

I expect it to be somewhere in the range of 600,000 to 700,000 words, but this is subject to change (and likely will due to my propensity for rambling text. oops.).

I’ve written short and long-form original fiction as well as a lot of fanfic (say hello @ pentaghastly on AO3, and @kendallroynsfw on tumblr!), but this is my first IF! Bugs and coding issues may appear in the demo; please let me know if any issues arise during your playthroughs.

Folksaga is a work in progress. I would love constructive feedback when the demo is posted, as well as any bugs or grammar issues to be brought to my attention if I've missed them :) I would also love patience, because I'm a full time health care worker who gets sleepy lots xoxo

A Swedish farmer named Sven Andersson was executed in 1691 for having intercourse with a mountain nymph, or bergsrå. I will neither confirm or deny if his Wikipedia article was the inspiration for this IF, except I will confirm it and it definitely was.

MC ORIGINS | RO INTROS | DEMO!!!!! | COG FORUMS | PATREON

#folksaga-if #interactive fiction #interact-if #choice of games #hosted games #cog #choice script #this is the post with the demo!!!!!!! AYYYYY!#norse mythology #wip #demo post #intro post #folksaga

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imastrangeone98 · 3 months

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Carved Into Time Immemorial

(A/N: I'm back with my bullshit 😄 I've reemerged from the depths of legal hell and I will not hesitate to repeat this again)

Based off of a dream I had, started off as a zombie apocalypse dream but it suddenly changed to a reincarnation au so there's that

Warning: fem!reader, ooc modern!alhaitham who's a simp, reincarnation angst to comfort, just general bad attempt at hurt/comfort fluff

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

"So you're telling me to screw off, right?" you sniffled, tears running down your soft cheeks. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say that. Why are you being so cruel?"

"It's not being cruel, it's simply being realistic," he retorted with a dismissive wave of his hand. "With my status as the Scribe, the requirements for a romantic partner must be near equal to or higher than my own. And with your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious:

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

Alhaitham's eyes crack open, and he blinks at the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

With a grunt, he hoists himself up and stretches with a soft yawn, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion.

Another dream.

What a shitty way to start the morning. He runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it rather aggressively.

"I need a coffee."

[...]

Never mind. He doesn't want coffee anymore.

Because the new barista taking orders bears a striking, near-identical resemblance to the crying woman in his unnaturally realistic dreams.

But it's too late to back out, because Alhaitham is next in line, and your gentle eyes peer into his own so deeply, he almost doesn't notice the way your hands shake just the slightest at the sight of him.

Despite the brief stutter in his voice, he manages to give you his order, even placing a small tip inside the jar, which he normally doesn't do.

Given the terror in your eyes which you so desperately tried to hide, he feels as though you earned it. That, and the coffee you handed over to him (ignoring the softness of your fingertips when they brushed over his knuckles) is surprisingly delicious- perfectly bitter with a smooth undertaste that the previous baristas could never achieve.

As he heads off to work, he finds himself savoring every sip.

Meanwhile, you're still reeling at the sight of the mysterious, yet familiar man this morning. How could it be possible, that the figure you saw hurting you with words so sharp they could've cut through your skin in your dreams be a living, breathing human being in your reality, especially when said man spoke with such a surprisingly quiet voice?

Could it be possible that we met before? you couldn't help but mull over, before shaking your head resolutely.

It's just a coincidence, nothing more, you try to reassure yourself, returning to grinding coffee beans with diligence. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's not like you're ever going to see him again.

[...]

You ought to smack yourself right in the head, because you end up meeting the familiar stranger- Alhaitham, you recall from the name on the cup- again at the tavern.

Your coworkers had dragged you there against your will, despite your lack of enthusiasm. So you sit at the bar, a mocktail in your hands, watching the other baristas get more and more drunk.

"You're not a fan of alcohol, I presume?"

The sudden voice close to your ear makes you flinch, and it's only thanks to the man's solid chest that he doesn't go tumbling to the ground when you smack him.

"I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No need to apologize. You have quite the arm strength."

You flush at the reminder of your actions, as well as how firm his stomach was. You'd slap yourself silly if you weren't in public.

"If that's all, I hope you have a good rest of your night-"

"We've never met before."

You look at him, confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"We've only met once, yet you seem strangely familiar. Like someone from the past," he says. "And from the way you seem to avoid my gaze, would I be correct in presuming that you also view me in a similar light?"

Something within you- almost like an inner voice- whispers at you to not answer his question, to leave and not turn around for a final glance. And it's so unnerving that you're speechless.

"I'll take your silence as an answer." He gazes at you with unbridled curiosity, eyes sparkling in the dim bar light that you can't look away. "If it's agreeable with you, would you be interested in going out for a meal sometime? Perhaps we could compare notes."

You should say no. The voice within you tells you to say no.

But he tilts his head, and somehow, your voice cannot bring itself to vocalize what you should say. So you simply nod, albeit hesitantly. And with a brief exchange of phone numbers, you hurriedly grab your things and ditch your coworkers to rush home.

Alhaitham watches you until the door swings shut, then moves his attention to his phone screen, swiftly typing a message to his newly-made acquaintance.

"I've never seen you so excited about meeting people before," Kaveh chortles with a swig of his wine. "Were you hoping to bring her home tonight? The way she darted away says otherwise."

He rolls his eyes. "Says the one who pulled zero people in the span of the hour we've been sitting in this bar."

"Why, you-!"

"Alhaitham's and Kaveh's love lives aside," Tighnari jumps in and glares at his two friends, "it's about your time to roll, Cyno. We came here because you wanted to play cards, yet here you are, staring at nothing."

Their attention turns to their card-loving friend, who is merely staring at the door.

"...She's a marathon runner," he says simply.

"...What?"

"A marathon runner. Because she's been running laps in Alhaitham's mind."

The men stare at him blankly.

"...Do you not get it? Allow me to explain- Alhaitham has been exceptionally distracted for the past hour-"

Tighnari immediately tries to stop him, leading to an objectively hilarious argument that even has a chase sequence ("Enough with the shitty puns, you pea-brained lummox!"). But Alhaitham isn't laughing.

He stares at his phone, at the little notification indicating a response from you, agreeing to lunch in a few days' time.

He sets about looking for a nice cafe.

[...]

The booths are small in this restaurant, because the two of you pick at your food with your knees practically bumping each other under the table. But the panipuri appetizers are good, so at least you have that silver lining.

He's not particularly chatty, as his answers to your icebreaker questions are short and straightforward. But you sense that it's not out of malice, but simple directness.

At least you learn some things: he works at Sumeru Corporations, he holds a relatively high yet comfortable position, he has a "terrible roommate with no sense of rationality or common sense," and he enjoys a good book at the library. It suits him, you think.

It isn't until your lunches arrive that the conversation turns more serious.

As you nervously take bites of your fish with cream sauce, he asks you a question: "Did you sleep well last night?"

You flinch. The answer is: you did not. The dream prevented you from doing so.

"Dropping out of the Akademiya? I knew you were always foolish, but to think you'd stoop so low as to throw away your future," Alhaitham said, watching you throw away boxes upon boxes of your schoolwork and rejected theses.

"You said so yourself, Grand Scribe," you sighed. You refused to give him any more attention than this; the sting in your heart wouldn't allow it. "I was never meant to be a scholar. This is the best case scenario for everyone involved."

He huffed, and scanned through some of your old papers- papers you spent days, weeks, months on, even. Papers that he would've written in an hour or less. You bit your lip; you refused to give it any more thought, lest the grief in your chest mutate into rage.

"You do realize that some of these could be published, yes?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're done mocking me, Grand Scribe, you can return to your duties now."

"I'm not mocking you; some of these papers would easily be approved by the Grand Sage-"

"Don't even get me started on that incompetent old fool!" you hissed, and you squeezed the old papers in your hands so hard wrinkles formed. "If that was your attempt to have me stay in the Akademiya- which seems beyond your best interest, mind you- then you did a horrible job. Leave at once!"

"Just listen to-"

"LEAVE!"

"Are you alright? You're crying."

The voice jolts you out of your memory. You jump in your seat, the feeling of a warm finger gently rubbing under your eye further pulling you out of your unexpected funk.

Alhaitham stares at you, leaning away. "My apologies. You just seemed very lost in thought."

You wipe your suddenly wet eyes. Why would you cry over a silly dream? "Sorry; I don't know why I did that. It was just a bad dream I had last night, please don't worry about it."

He hums and stares at you thoughtfully, a cheek rested on his hand. "I suppose now would be a bad time to tell you I also had a dream last night."

You look at him, eyes wide.

"You were leaving some institution called the Akademiya, and I made some attempt to stop you for unknown reasons."

The blood in your veins chilled you; you stare into your plate, appetite gone. He eyes you, swiftly switching his empty plate with yours.

"I admit that I'm not one to be superstitious. But for us to share the same dream cannot merely be a coincidence."

You want to deny it; there's no way some complete stranger happens to share the exact same dream as you! It's just a coincidence!

...But is it really? To both know the words that were spoken between your dream self and his? Could that truly be called a coincidence when it seems like every dream of yours is known by this man?

You stay silent.

Alhaitham takes the time to briefly study your face: the corners of your eyes are etched with laugh lines, your hands are rough and calloused from months- maybe even years- of hard work from your various areas of employment, and even though you're visibly upset, your head still bobs gently to the soft music playing above. You live a different life than he imagined.

He swiftly handles the bill, and when you complain and try to hand him your share of the receipt, he merely says, "If you'd like to repay me, I know a good place that has excellent baklava."

And when his eyes glow and he extends his arm to you, you- against your better judgment- say yes.

[...]

"Y'know, he's been in quite the good mood ever since his date~" Kaveh chuckles at his roommate from the comfort of his cramped desk. "He's finally appreciating all those love lessons I taught him!"

"Sure, if you can even call those lessons," Tighnari laughs at his friend. "More like screaming matches to me."

"I swear to the archons, if you try to mock my teaching skills again, I'll give you a 'love lesson' too!"

"No need, I don't need another one of those."

"What are you talking about, I never gave you one-"

"On the contrary, Alhaitham has been rather cranky at work." Cyno watches his friend typing away at his phone while simultaneously managing his leftover paperwork, oddly determined on finishing the last of his duties before work ended so he could focus his attention on other, "more important things worth my time than slaving away over a desk," as he put it. "He seems very intent on 'throwing a wrench' in all of my proposals for the upcoming case."

"...Not gonna lie, Cyno, that doesn't sound very off-brand from his actual personality," Tighnari says bluntly. "Also, stop with the archon-forsaken puns!"

"No. And correction- he's intent on rejecting my proposals. Setaria's and Zandik's went through without a hitch. And their plans almost never get approved by him."

That fact left the lawyer's two friends utterly confused. While Alhaitham was never an active fan of Cyno, they knew that the former always respected the latter's opinion regarding legal matters. The fact that he is actively avoiding Cyno's advice is... concerning, to say the least.

They all turn towards Alhaitham, who had seemingly paid them no heed, and observe him in silence.

"...If you focused on your duties as fervently as you do your gossip, I'm sure this office would be much better off," said man cuttingly says to his friends.

"I will once you tell me why you're rejecting my proposals," Cyno huffs, arms crossed.

"I would accept them if they were not so riddled with nonsense."

But Alhaitham knows that the words he spills so smoothly are actually directed towards himself. After all, no reasonable man would be doing such ridiculous things as he is solely because of a dream.

...Or perhaps, a distant memory.

"Do you happen to know what flowers she likes, Alhaitham? Perhaps not flowers..."

Alhaitham watched Cyno mumble to himself as the general pored over the selections of bouquets, a strange feeling in his gut. But he rolled his eyes and pointed one out to his friend. "This one."

"Ah, so she likes Sumeru roses. Simple, yet classic and elegant. A fitting flower indeed for a blooming beauty."

It was strange to see the General Mahamatra himself with such a wide, love-struck smile on his face. Everyone around him was placed on edge, including the Grand Scribe himself. But there was no real reason to feel this way. After all, he had long since cut ties with you ever since you left the Akademiya to start up your own food stall, selling fresh chai and charcoal-baked Ajilenakh cakes to eager customers.

But ever since Cyno became interested in getting closer to you, Alhaitham found it more difficult to avoid you. He began inviting you to the tavern for TCG, then to the Grand Bazaar to watch Nilou's latest performance, then to walks around the city at night to stargaze. Soon, you and Cyno were practically inseparable- where one was, the other would most certainly be as well.

It was... odd, to say the least. Alhaitham was always used to your gaze on his back. Now that your eyes had moved elsewhere, the feeling was unusual. He should have felt relieved. Yet all he felt was an unnatural wrongness.

But he said nothing. He gave Cyno his advice, and watched as the general practically sprinted to where you had promised to meet him that night for dinner. He watched until his friend's back disappeared, then returned home, feeling abnormally bitter.

"Don't play dumb, Alhaitham," Cyno says cuttingly, eyes piercing. "You've never approved of Zandik before. So what's really going on with you?"

"I already said my piece. Maybe instead of standing around and blabbering about how your proposal didn't get chosen, your time would be better spent fixing your mistakes."

Alhaitham turns back to his computer, headphones slid over his ears, effectively tuning out Cyno's further complaints in favor of the playlist you sent him a few days ago.

A playlist that you certainly did not give to Cyno.

[...]

"Wow. These are beautiful, but..." You gaze at the bouquet of rainbow roses Alhaitham placed in your hands earlier. "...Where did you get these? They don't look local to Sumeru."

"The florist imported some unique flowers from Fontaine. I thought you'd like these ones."

His eyes fixate on your small, sweet smile as you nod and breathe in their scent. "Yes. I do. Thank you, Alhaitham, that's very sweet of you."

Not as sweet as you, he thinks. But he can save those thoughts for another time. A more appropriate time.

[...]

...He just didn't think that time would be now.

Because you and Cyno are playing TCG. Together. At the same table.

Alhaitham knows he shouldn't feel this way. He was the one who invited you to join him, after all. He knew this could have been a possibility- you're soft and likable, it's only fair that his friends would be drawn to you.

But the look in the lawyer's eyes is unnaturally familiar. And it grates on his nerves.

Because he saw it before. At your wedding. He saw you walk down the aisle, with a smile brighter than he had ever seen grace your lips.

And across from you, Cyno. With hearts in his eyes, he held out his hand for you, and Alhaitham watched as you took it in your own and held his hand close to your heart. And he watched, bitterness on his tongue, as you were whisked away in the general's arms, dancing the night away.

That could have been me. The thought thudded so strongly in his mind he nearly knocked himself over. But he knew he only had himself to blame. And Kaveh was more than eager to rub that fact in his face as he helped his stupidly drunk friend back to their shared home.

"If ya weren't such a... such a hard-ass, maybe she... she would've gone out with you," the architect cackled, the smell of booze so strong it made Alhaitham's nose crinkle in disgust.

Just as it does now, at the sight of the two of you, chumming it up like peas in a pod. Like the two of you were meant to meet.

To fall in love all over again, as you did before.

His hands clench, and the wineglass nearly shatters.

Kaveh eyes him knowingly. "Y'know, if you're gonna be such a hard-ass-"

"Do not." He snaps at the architect, before rising from his seat to march over to you, completely ignoring Kaveh's baffled gasp at the sheer audacity of his junior.

"Alhaitham!" you greet him so cheerily, he almost forgets why he's so upset. Almost. "Come sit with us, we're just about to start a new game!"

"She's quite the talented player," Cyno nods at you. "You should bring her around more often."

"I'm afraid not for a while, as we have somewhere to be." He grabs your wrist and escorts you out of your seat and towards the door, choosing to ignore your confused pout. "I'll see you on Monday."

He doesn't turn back around to Cyno's brief protest, nor to Kaveh's knowing guffaw as the two of you exit the tavern into the cool night air. He breathes in deep, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

"...Alhaitham?" Your soft voice cuts through the silence, compelling him to turn towards you. "Is something wrong?"

He chews on his lip. "...Do you like him?"

"Who? What are you talking about?"

He sighs; no way could you be this adorably oblivious. "Cyno. Do you like him?"

Your eyes widen briefly, before you rub your chin, deep in contemplation. "He's very friendly, I'll give him that."

He glares at the ground.

"But I don't think I would go out of my way to hang out with him outside of hanging out with you," you laugh, scratching the back of your neck and looking up at him. Your eyes glow in the moonlight, and he's so captivated, his hand reaches out to brush against your cheek.

Your face feels hot, and you're suddenly even more bashful than you already are. But when you try to hide your face, he immediately gets a gentle, yet firm grip on your chin.

"Don't hide," he whispers. He stares at you, a fond look in his eyes. "You don't need to hide from me."

You're once again reminded of how utterly handsome Alhaitham is. And you want to kiss him. So you lean on your tiptoes, face moving towards his-

DON'T.

The voice echoes loud in your mind, and you grab your head in pain with a yelp.

"I'm merely attempting to tell you to stop deluding yourself with your fantasies."

Alhaitham immediately reaches out for you, grasping your chin and tilting your head this way and that. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"With your low grades, unruly personality, and penchant for idiotic decisions, the answer is quite obvious..."

"My- my head..."

"Your head? I'll take you to the Bimarstan, just hang in there-"

"You don't meet any of my prerequisites."

"NO!" You pull away from his touch, like his skin burned you, and turn your back to him. Every cell in your body seems to be screaming: LEAVE. "I- I have to go."

"At least let me walk you home-"

You don't hear any more of him- you can't, not with the voice in your head demanding you to turn your back on him and return home immediately.

You don't see the pain in his eyes as he watches you leave him.

[...]

You don't contact him for a while. His messages go unread.

Alhaitham spends most of his time staring at his phone instead of his papers, waiting for a message that never comes.

"You keep staring at that screen, your eyes are gonna pop out," Kaveh chortles as he sips his coffee. "And then that woman will really never want to see you again."

Alhaitham doesn't reply. He instead thinks back to his last conversation with you: the fear on your face, the tremble in your hands, the shakiness of your voice.

Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he push too far against your boundaries? Did he make you remember too much, too fast?

Did he remind you of something... or someone... you'd rather forget?

"You haven't brought your friend around recently," Cyno comments lightly from his desk. Alhaitham's hands clench. "You should invite her to join us again sometime. I'm looking forward to another rematch."

"I'm just surprised Alhaitham is capable of thinking of someone other than himself," Kaveh scoffs. "This man reeks of haughtiness, what makes you think he's capable of having friends, let alone a love interest?"

"Sounds like somebody's jealous," Tighnari chimes in. "Kaveh's right, by the way; staring at a computer screen doesn't do well for your eyes."

Alhaitham simply mumbles, "Pardon me if my eye health is the least of my concerns at the moment," and continues typing and deleting his message to you, trying for the nth time to make it perfect.

"...I knew it," Kaveh gasps, and he points dramatically at his roommate. "It is because of your lady friend! Let me guess, trouble in paradise? Want your best friend to give you some love tips?"

"That would actually be greatly appreciated."

"I knew that those would come in handy- Wait, what?" It's not just Kaveh who looks at him utterly flabbergasted; Cyno and Tighnari also stare him, dumbfounded at why the ever-rational secretary would want romance advice.

"Since when did you...?"

"Why would such a lovely lady ever want to..."

"I KNEW IT." Kaveh lunges towards Alhaitham, dramatically grabbing him by the collar and vigorously shaking him back and forth. "Ever since that woman showed up, you've been so googly-eyed; it freaked me out for weeks! And here I thought you were physically incapable of feeling love."

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. "Excuse me for wanting to keep my private life private."

Tighnari coughs into his hand, silencing the two men. "Well, since it's not so private anymore, you may as well tell us what's plaguing you."

"The lady lost interest?" Cyno chimes in, resting his head on his hand. "Or perhaps she's being distant. Like an iceberg."

"What does an iceberg have to do with-"

"She hasn't responded to me ever since I tried to kiss her. I'm worried I may have breached her personal space." Alhaitham sighs heavily and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I'm aware that I might have done something wrong, but she won't even let me apologize."

Kaveh simply rolls his eyes. "Then isn't that the solution? Just leave her alone; clearly she no longer wants anything to do with you, for good reason."

Alhaitham grits his teeth. "It's not that simple; she looked like she wanted to reciprocate, but something held her back."

"Well, you're not gonna know what until you ask her yourself," Tighnari says with a shrug. "See if you can meet her. If she gave you her address, go to her house or something. You're just gonna keep asking yourself questions until you go crazy."

"He's plagued with the love bug," Cyno hums thoughtfully. "You should bring flowers. She seems like the type to like Sumeru roses."

Alhaitham's eye twitches. "Actually, she prefers rainbow roses. I'll be off; it's exactly 5 PM."

He swiftly gathers his things and leaves the office, glaring at the piles of unfinished work he's intentionally putting off until the next week. He has much more important things to contemplate than the office goals for the next month.

He needs to find a way to meet you. He has too many things to say, and no way to say them.

What should he do? Should he go to your workplace and see if you're in? Should he be a freak and try to track down your phone? Should he-

Ding~

The soft tinkle of his message tone hits his ears, and he yanks his phone out to look at the screen... and nearly drops the device onto the ground.

Rainbow Rose 🌹: Sorry for not responding. Please come meet me. I'd like to talk to you about some things.

Attached is the address to Puspa Cafe. He immediately starts calculating in his head the fastest way to get there, what to order, what to say to you.

I'm sorry for invading your privacy. I want us to be closer. What can I do to be allowed into your space? How can I prove to you that I'm different from the person in your dreams?

By the time he's finalized what he wants to say, he already sees you through the window of the cafe, sipping on some specialty drink. The setting sunlight frames your face so perfectly, the words he planned fall through his mind and onto the floor beneath him.

But he swallows the rock in his throat and approaches you.

You blink up at him and smile softly. "Alhaitham. Sorry for calling you in such short notice. Please, sit." You gesture down at the seat in front of you.

But he's unnerved; you're polite and distant again, just like how you were when the two of you first met.

He has so many questions, but they all narrow down to the same thing: Were the dreams too much for you? Are you still willing to see him again?

"How is your head?" is all he can manage to ask you.

You nod. "It's alright. Thanks for asking." Then you scratch your head and lower your gaze to the ground. "Alhaitham. I don't think we should meet anymore."

The words don't process in his mind until you're halfway through some spiel. Then his blood turns to ice.

"...Pardon?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "That night, when my head started hurting after we..." Your cheeks flush, and you glare at your cup. "The dreams wouldn't let me sleep. Every one of them involved you, hating me. They're so vivid, I know you and I both know that it's not a coincidence anymore. And I'm worried that-"

Alhaitham stops listening.

You don't want to meet him anymore. Cyno's words echo in his mind: the lady lost interest.

You don't want to see him. He may never see you again.

He's brought out of his mental spiral when you brush your hand against his.

"Alhaitham?" you ask quietly, too softly. Like a hunter speaking soothingly to a dying animal. "You lost focus."

"I..." He's dumbfounded; Alhaitham has never been lost for words, yet now his tongue refuses to move, his lips refuse to speak, glued together with fear and desperation.

You stare at the ground, hair covering your eyes. "...I understand. I'll take my leave. Thank you... for everything. It was..." He sees you bite your lip, a tear slipping down your cheek, and you stand up and leave.

He simply stares at your seat until the doorbell chimes lightly behind you.

He cannot process anything, not with your rejection still echoing in his mind, clouding his senses, your tears polluting his conscious.

...Your tears.

...You were crying.

The cogs in his brain turn once more.

He stands up so abruptly, he knocks his chair back, and throws himself outside the door, sprinting towards you.

And when he calls to you, your shoulders turn.

His heart burns with hope.

"I can't accept that," he pants, grabbing hold of your shoulders and gently turning you towards him. His hold is weak, enough for you to slip through his fingers if you pull away hard enough.

You don't pull away.

"Alhaitham, what are-" you start, but he cradles your face in his hands, staring deep into your eyes, and you fall silent.

"You said we shouldn't meet because of the dreams." His thumbs draw circles onto your soft cheeks, and archons above, he wants to kiss them. "Would it be more accurate to say that you feel that way towards the man in them?"

You blink at him, confused. He nearly coos at how adorable you look.

"What do you think about me? Do you think of me as someone who hates you?"

"No." His heart warms at your instantaneous answer. But it stops at your next sentence. "But my body doesn't feel that way. My head doesn't feel that way. The dreams... You hated me since the moment I..." You freeze, and become stiff in his hold.

But when he rubs your cheeks again, you melt into him, stumbling on your own two feet into his arms. And he cradles you against him, as though if he pressed his body into yours hard enough, the two of you could combine and never be apart.

"...I can't promise you that I won't be like him, the one in your dream...The me of the past," he whispers into your hair. "But I can tell you this now: I am not so foolish as to let you slip from my hands yet again."

Your eyes water with tears; you don't know whether to move closer or move away. Your brain is mush; Alhaitham's cologne fills your nose until all you can see, smell, hear, is Alhaitham.

"He was foolish; he made his choices and regretted them too late. I have already made my choice, and I choose you."

You gasp, just the lightest of breath, and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb.

"I chose you, and I will always choose you. And under no circumstances are you obligated to choose me in return." But he smiles so sweetly at you that tears well up, both in your eyes and his. "But if you choose me, I swear that I will never repeat his mistakes. I will build us a future here, from the ground up, and earn your trust, piece by piece. And I will never let you go again."

Your body flushes hot, urging you to flee his grasp and never return.

He hasn't changed, your mind whispers to you. He is just as cruel, callous, and selfish as ever.

He gently places his forehead on yours, and closes his eyes. "Take as much time as you need," he says. "I will always be here."

"...Will you?" you ask, voice so quiet that it blends into the background.

But Alhaitham hears you. Loud and clear.

He smiles. "Always."

Your body hates you. You should hate yourself, perhaps, for being too weak.

But you melt into his arms, where he encloses you with his warmth and security.

And when your mind tries to overwhelm you, your heart tells it to be silent.

[...]

"It's been awhile."

You scoff, refusing to look at him. Alhaitham chooses to look down below at your respective reincarnations sleeping peacefully. He- the newer him- embraces you tightly in his arms, and you- the newer you- snuggle closer to his warmth.

Alhaitham- the old Alhaitham- smiles. You- the old you- do not.

"Foolish girl," you sigh heavily. "I tried to warn her, yet she never listened. She's only going to fall into the same trap I did."

"...Perhaps she won't," he counters, hovering closer to you. "Perhaps she, and he, are a little more intelligent than we were. Wisdom comes with age... and experience. Something we lacked then." He glances down at them again. "Something they have now."

"Only because of us," you grumble. "And here I am, trying to pass down my wisdom, and she refuses to listen. Is stubbornness just something we're destined to have, I wonder?"

"Perhaps," he chuckles. "And perhaps, she is also building her own wisdom based on her own experiences. As is he." He glances down at his other self. "If he only relied on my memories, he would have never even approached her. He would be a coward like I was, and hold all his feelings in until it's too late."

You say nothing. He smiles softly, and gently touches your hand. When you don't move away, he slowly wraps his arm around you, resting his head on your shoulder, savoring your warmth (or what you have... given you're both spirits).

"Our story has long come to a close," Alhaitham murmurs. "But theirs is different. Let's let them be. Maybe they'll be much different from us."

You grumble in his hold, but don't pull away. "I didn't take you to be the type to make irrational predictions."

"Death does do things to a person's mentality," he muses. "After all, you wouldn't let me touch you like this in life."

You huff, but don't say anything in retort.

And he holds you, just as his counterpart does, until the sun rises and melts the darkness away. Them with it.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: this took way too long to write (thanks law school), also tumblr is a b*stard and wouldn't let me write in my drafts so I had to copy paste everything when it was 3/4 finished 🥲

And yes, this sucks- deal with it XD

#genshin impact #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader

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hawkflame999 · 30 days

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Ninjago Secrecy AU

So in this AU, it’s basically the same as canon, EXCEPT, the ninja stay secret.

it's not JUST their identities. It’s also their literal existence and history.

FSM didn’t want humans, who often misunderstood and killed Yōkai-kind, to know about the Elementals. So he kept himself secret, his two sons secret, and the people he’d later choose to become the first human-ish Elementals secret. Those people were street orphans and abused kids he’d rescued from other humans.

Elementals have basically been behind the scenes (and doing illegal stuff like underage driving) for several millennia, they’ve managed to keep secret all this time and continue to do so in this AU.

When something big comes, like the Great Devourer, the ninja fix it but there’s only eyewitnesses and no camera footage and most of the time they somehow aren’t seen by humans.

Or Jay causes a blackout to make things harder for them to be seen.

Oh, yeah. And Elementals aren’t sure if they’re Humans with powers, something between Yōkai and Humans, or just full-blown Yōkai.

They just don’t know, but they have the senses of Yōkai and they can see very well in the dark- they also have a keen sense of smell, they can follow trails. And their eyes glow, but they can control the glow when they need to. Among other things, like feeling vibrations.

Elementals also have feral instincts, though they can ignore those instincts and act human when the circumstances demand it. Lloyd, his father, and uncle all have Dragoni features like in my Headcanon #1, and they're the most feral.

If you saw my HC about the Elemental Bond, that applies here too.

The Elementals just tell people who ask that they’re a clan. They’re kind of common amongst the Realms, and to help the ninja, their clan is tiny, and sort of IS a clan, just a special one.

Said clans that do exist either live off the land or live modernly now but they all started back in old times, and they keep touch and all nowadays.

The Serpentine often receives a similar reception that Yōkai get, just less than that, so they don’t give the game up- they keep silent about the ninja.

After meeting the ninja, the Formlings, the Geckles and the Munce, and others were asked to and agreed to keep quiet about the Elementals. So does Vania, (idk how that part of Master of the Mountain works but yeah).

In the AU, other Yōkai, (Kitsune, Kappas, Tanukis, Bakenekos, ect.) are more apparent and present in this, and even most of them don’t know about the ninjas, just a few friends know.

The Elementals frequently attack and ambush Yōkai Hunters, and free the trapped Yōkai.

There’s also more mountains around the Monastery, it’s a literal mountain range, and many Yōkai live in them. Years ago they all combined their magic to create a barrier, so humans can’t get in (they just get turned around and all,) unless they’re led, and it's really hard for someone to just find their way in, but it happens occasionally.

IN THIS AU, THE SIX SEE EACH OTHER AS SIBLINGS, EXCEPT MAYBE JAY AND NYA, I CAN'T DECIDE.

Arin knows about the ninja ONLY because he’s from a village near the mountain of the Monastery, and his family is one of the few that the ninja trusted with the knowledge of their existence, because one of Arin’s ancestors, a few generations back, accidentally found a way into the mountains, and got caught in a storm, so the ninja of the time saved him.

Also all the Elementals speak Yōkai. It’s their second language, and their first language is Japanese, English is their third language.

Yeah, that’s it really.

AND IF YOU HAVE AND QUESTIONS, FEEL FREE TO ASK!

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aleksanderscult · 2 months

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Analyzing Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power

(I'm so sick and tired of seeing people use his "You are nothing now" words as a way to justify how he didn't love her that I decided to create a whole ass post about it.)

First of all, let's see what the powers of a Grisha mean to a Grisha, shall we?

For a Grisha her powers is the same thing as the oxygen is for all humans. The constant beat of a person's heart.

Indispensable.

And in a way it's implied that a Grisha cannot live without it. Just like birds can naturally fly, just like a fish can naturally swim. It's part of their nature, part of their body and soul.

Now let's see Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power.

The moment he saw Alina being unable to summon, he froze. At first he's in denial of what he sees.

How can a Grisha not being able to use her power? A power that is always there no matter what? A power that "feeds" them and keeps them healthy and alive.

We see Aleksander being in a state of shock as he tries to comprehend what is happening with her:

He had never seen anything like that. A Grisha losing her powers is unheard of. Impossible.

He tries again and again to summon her light and bring it to the surface. The fact that he can't feel it causes him panic and pain. In a way, he can't find her soul.

And the very fact that she also lost her collar and feter is impossible too. When a Grisha claims an amplifier, a connection is made that can't be broken.

Another fatal loss for Alina and a disastrous blow for Aleksander and his knowledge, since he knows more than anyone else how amplifiers work and how a Grisha's power work. All the hundreds of years he had spent watching and studying the ways of the Small Science and of power, have gone to waste right now as he tries to understand what is going on with the woman he loves.

His near immortality and rare powers always made him seek someone else to connect with. Someone to understand him and be on the same level as him.

People say that he never actually wanted Alina to be his equal. Well, based on his words and reaction here, I would say he wanted to.

Right now there's no pretense, no tricks or a façade. We see him "naked" and exposed showing us his terror of Alina's loss and despair for his fate. Of being alone forever.

"You were meant to be like me."

Aleksander wanted her strong and confident. Unafraid to rise above the others and to stand right beside him.

"You're nothing now."

I know it sounds cruel but it is true.

If a bird lost its ability to fly or a fish its ability to swim, would you call that normal? If a person stopped breathing or her heart stopped beating, would you call her alive and whole?

Alina lost the very essence of her being, her soul and identity. What happened to her was something completely unnatural and just wrong. Aleksander has lived for centuries and knows more about the Grisha than anyone else (except of course his mother) so he knows that what happened to her, has crippled her. She's not the Alina she was. And she's never gonna be.

It's not a statement of disgust, apathy or scorn. They're words of pain and mourning. Shock and anger.

It's a complete ruin for Alina.

A devastation and tragedy for the unfortunate Grisha that experiences it for the first time in their history. And an equal devastation and sorrow for the Grisha that watched it happen to the person he cared most about.

And it's actually funny how Aleksander seems to be the only person that was devastated for what happened to her.

Everyone else was:

"Alina lost her powers"

"Okay cool".

In a way you can say that it was proof of how he was the one that truly cared about her fate while the rest of her friends didn't seem to give two flying fucks.

The Darkling just gave up.

All he had fought for, all the patience he had mastered for years waiting for his equal to come, went to dust right in front of him.

In a way he committed suicide and just let Alina kill him.

Now if he didn't love her as some people say, why did he do these things after she lost her powers?:

1) Called her to his side and searched for her hand to hold it.

2) Smiled at her and stroked her tears.

3) Entrusted her with his last wish because he'd seen her kindness and believed in it.

4) Asked her to say his name one more time so he could hear it from her one last time. A name that he had probably never said to anyone else for centuries.

5) Begged her to not leave him alone while he died because loneliness frightened him.

I'm sorry but if I was dying, I wouldn't want anyone at my side but the people that I loved the most. And Aleksander wanted the same too.

There's no way he felt disgust or anger towards Alina even after she stabbed him. Whatever she did, he forgave. And whatever happened to her in the end didn't stop him from loving her and wanting her presence at his side until his own end.

(didn't really love her, my ass)

#the darkling #pro darkling #darklina #pro darklina #yes because when you smile at the person that stabbed you and wipe her tears then you must hate her #oh! and let's not forget how he wanted to see her the moment he got resurrected!#that man came back from the underworld and said “Where is she?! Where's my wife?!”#like daamnn calm down you lovesick fool #oof #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #alina starkov #alarkling #pro alarkling #ruin and rising #shadow and bone #grishaverse trilogy #grishaverse

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everythingelseisextra · 9 months

Text

Give Yourself A Reason

Part Four: Petty Criminal

Part Six: My Body Is Here

Description: A late night call from Tommy comes after days without hearing from him. Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, talk of guns, language Word Count: 2723 Tag List: @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek

As suddenly as it started, it seems to end. No word from him, no reaching out from you. No effort placed into a relationship from either of you. The bridge between you begins to rot. Your life goes back to gray. The lack of color is worse because you had the chance to add some into your life and failed to take it. It was within your grasp, but your fingers fell short. You insist to yourself the same few words you’ve been saying to yourself since you were young; adapt. Change. Accept. You will not let this loss, this small, meaningless loss, shake you. You’re strong.

But you’re alone. And the more the days pass, the less you sleep. Shadows crawl under your eyes, puffing them, glazing them over, and your body grows heavy once again. You spend the night hours reaching into your chest, trying to find something to hold onto, some identity that you can use to keep yourself going, and fail to find it. Hollowed out, made of cobwebs and ancient wishes, you’re a ghost more than anything. More haunted than the coat sitting on your kitchen chair, the one you stare at while you eat, the one he gave you. You thought, maybe, he’d come to take it back. You know better, now.

Sometimes, you wonder if you let him get too close. If when you pushed back against him or when you finally gave in, maybe you revealed something he didn’t like. Other times, though, you think it was him. You think he let you see, if only for a few minutes, the bits of fear that every human has. And you think that maybe, maybe he shies away from letting others know that part of himself, letting others know he’s human.

And, sometimes, when you think of him, all you get in return is a void and a strange, strangled yearning for closeness that you don’t understand. Like some old, wiser part of you saw him as equal to yourself, and now cannot let go of the idea of him being near you.

You sell one of your horses. His training finished, his manners perfect, it’s time for you to let go of him. It’s part of the job; saying goodbye. Letting go of a creature that mirrors your soul so perfectly, that reacts fluidly to you, that forgives and forgives and forgives all the stupid mistakes you make. You smile and nod at his new owners, and, once he’s gone away in the trailer, you clean the empty stall. The sun sets, sending liquid gold to paint the interior of the barn, and you drag your weary body back to the house for another night of desperately wanting to rest but finding yourself unable to.

You stay in the kitchen that night. There’s no point in lying down. You stare blearily at the coat hanging on the chair across from you, listening to the ticking of the clock. Counting the seconds. Counting the minutes. Counting the hours. A dull headache spreads between your temples, and you hang your head, closing your eyes. Maybe you can drift off. Maybe you can trick yourself, insist that you’re not trying to sleep and then manage to sleep anyway. You don’t want to think anymore. You want to rest.

Time slips away from you. Swirls into colored patterns in front of your eyes. You lean your head back and sigh. This, you think. This again. This, maybe always.

Your phone rings and you jump so aggressively you almost fall out of your chair. You stand and stumble over to where it sits on the kitchen counter. It rings. Rings and rings. You stare at it, then, slowly, pick up.

“Hello?” Who the fuck is calling you at half past midnight?

Silence on the other end. You wait a few seconds, then go to put down the handset, irritated that your stupor was interrupted.

Someone speaks on the other end, halfway down to the receiver.

You lift it back to your ear. “Who is this?”

“Tommy.” His voice comes even more gravelly over the phone than in person, low and dull, as if he is just as exhausted as you are.

“Hi,” you say slowly. “Is… is everything okay?”

More silence.

“Why are you calling me?”

No response.

“Alright. It’s late. I’m… I’m putting the phone down.”

“I’m looking at a gun.” His words are slow, quieter than usual, without confidence. “I’m looking at a gun and I’ve called everyone. Only one to pick up is you.”

You suck in a breath. “Where are you?”

“Sitting at my desk.” There’s a click and your blood goes cold.

“Put the gun down, Thomas.” Your voice pitches. “Put the fucking gun down.”

A pause, then a small clunk as he does as you told him.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip. “Do you want— do you want to come stay with me? Just for tonight?”

When you listen, really listen, you can hear his breathing, slow and shallow. You can’t feel your hands, and without realizing it, you’re floating, outside of your own body, a kind of quiet panic you haven’t felt for years.

He doesn’t answer you. You speak quietly, quickly, softly, leaning on the counter. “I can’t say I know exactly how you’re feeling. But I’ve had some run-ins with myself before. All the guilt and the shame and the self-hatred just becomes too much and you numb out. Until you can’t feel anything at all. And, since you’re already free-falling, why not go all the way? Why not go to sleep and not wake up? It’s exhausting to fight every day. ” Your voice grows slightly choked, the phantom feelings of the past creeping up on you, long-dead but still haunting. “I’ll tell you why. Every day that you wake up and face the same fucking fight that you did the day before is a triumph. I don’t know what you spend your days doing, but I want to, and I don’t doubt that it’s more work than most people do. And it matters. Every little thing you do ripples out, and suddenly, you’re connected to a whole web of people. They didn’t not pick up because they don’t care about you. It’s the middle of the night.

“And here’s the thing; the sun will come up, or maybe it won’t. This will change or maybe it won’t. But you, Thomas Shelby, are a fighter, and you’ll adapt. As exhausting as it sounds, that fight to exist is the most honorable thing you can do. I don’t think you get the credit you deserve for that.” You look down.”No one does.”

He’s quiet. You hear him take a deep breath. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah.” You nod to yourself. “How long have you been looking at that gun?”

“Few months.”

“This is the first time you’ve told someone.” It’s a statement, not a question. You don’t need to ask. You can hear it in his voice, the desperate quality of needing someone to respond to him, to listen, even, or just be there. You’ve heard it in your own voice before. That innate need to be with another person, no matter how estranged they are to you, when something like a crisis strikes. Self-protective, because sometimes it’s easier to die than to change your life alone.

“First time I’ve considered pulling the trigger.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened a few months ago?” It’s a risky question. You ask it tentatively, aware that this could lead to something worse.

“My wife took a fucking bullet for me.”

Your chest tightens. “I’m sorry.”

“Yep.”

“Do you want me to come to you, or do you want to come to me?” You’re not giving him the choice to wait out the rest of the night alone.

“No need.” He lets out a tight breath.

“Yes need.” You glance down at yourself, clothed in a light t-shirt and sweats. “So, I’m coming to you, then.”

“No. If you insist on—”

“I do.”

“Fine.” His lifeless voice drags on the words as he speaks. “I’ll come. Expect me.”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t bring weapons.” You manage a weak smile to yourself. “You’ll be safe with me. You don’t need them.”

A deep breath, then; “Okay.”

He hangs up. Your hand drops the handset without your permission, letting it crash down wildly to the counter. Fingers closing into a fist, you close your eyes, trying to breathe, trying to hold yourself together. You think about the spiral, the urge to dive off into the deep end and never resurface. The desolate need for silence and the hatred once you get it. The repulsion of other people but the all-consuming loneliness. The strange lightness forming at the thought of letting it all go.

Yes, you’ve been there before. You’ve let the darkness fool you once.

You won’t let it take him. Not tonight. Whether he tried everyone else before, he called you. He told you what was happening. He was scared enough to ask for help.

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at his coat in the kitchen before his headlights are in your unpaved driveway. You open the door to your house and wait for him there.

His eyes flick sullenly to you, then fall, shameful. Your heart jolts and you shake your head. “Tommy. Look at me.”

He releases a breath, a few feet away from you. You’ve never seen him like this, without the suit, without the mask of intensity he always seems to wear. In front of you now is someone completely devoid of defenses, horrifically vulnerable. He looks up, meets your eyes.

“You’re no less of a man because of this. You’re no less of a gangster, or a fighter, or a businessman, or whatever you want to call yourself. Okay?”

“Yes.” His eyes stay even with yours this time, though hollow and empty. “Okay.”

You step back to let him in. Your single-floor house includes a kitchen and sitting room, a bedroom and tiny bathroom, and a small living room. You lead him to the latter and sit down in an old armchair in silence. He stands in the entrance, looking around for a moment, then wanders over to the worn-out couch, sitting without a word.

There’s silence that hovers, proving the emptiness of the night to be thorough, even in the safety of your house. Moonlight filters in through the small window, and faint rays of it catch in his eyes, lighting the broken look in them.

You speak first. “I assume you don’t plan on sleeping?”

He shakes his head, a tiny movement, barely noticeable. His eyes are planted on the small coffee table between you, staring without seeing.

“I haven’t been sleeping lately. Don’t worry about keeping me up. I’d be awake either way.”

No response but a slow blink, eyelashes glistening faintly.

You watch him for a moment, then, cautiously, you explain a little. “I… went through a lot. And there was a long time where I didn’t think life was worth it anymore. You know what I used to do?”

His eyes flick to you, steadying on yours.

“I’d give myself a reason. Something little. Maybe I’d make plans with friends for the next day, so I felt obligated to make it there. Maybe I’d let myself spend some money at the end of the week. Maybe there’d be some new animal I needed to care for. Anything. Anything to get me through the rough patch.” You shrug. “I’ve been where you are, and that’s what helped me. Do you have anything you can think of that would do that for you?”

“No. It’s all work. All fucking work.”

“I… I think I can give you a reason.” You lean back in your chair, looking up at the dark wood ceiling, wanting to give him some sense of privacy. You don’t need to be staring into his soul.

“Yeah? I’d love to fucking hear it.” He grows bitter. You ignore it. It’s easier to be mad than scared.

“I have an open stall. I sold a horse a few days ago.” You close your eyes. “I’m going to the racetrack to pick out a new horse at the end of the week. You could come with me, if you want. You can… you can have partial ownership. Help me train it.”

“Give myself a reason, eh?” You hear him give a dead chuckle. “Buy a horse.”

“Well, no.” You smile a little. “I’m paying for it. You just get it for free.”

“Why would you do that for me?” He sounds too tired to grow defensive, too exhausted to put up a real fight, but still, he doesn’t trust you, not completely. “What do you want?”

“Honestly?” You fold your arms into your lap, opening your eyes to meet his. “I want you. I want you to stay alive so you can be in my life. I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is. I just get this sense about people and I have one about you. You’re not scary to me. I want you to stay here, on this earth, so that I can know who you are. And if that means letting you have one of my horses, well, fuck, I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

He’s quiet for a moment, thoughtful. There’s a little more than emptiness in his eyes, now; a flicker of curiosity. Then, seconds later, it’s gone, and he’s looking back at the coffee table. “You don’t want to know me.”

“Pretty sure I do.” You cross your arms. “And you don’t get to tell me otherwise.”

“There’s something rotting in me. Came from my mom. Don’t have the words to describe it. It’s— it’s bad. Once you see it, you won’t want to know me.”

You shake your head, looking away and smiling. “God… That’s exactly what I think about you, Tommy. Exactly what I think when it comes to you knowing me.”

You feel his gaze on you, feel the faint warmth of his attention wash over you.

“What about we agree, before we start this… thing, that we forgive each other’s rottenness. That whatever comes up, we’ll deal with it and move on. Since we both think the other will see something they don’t like. It’s not our fault, anyway.”

He scoffs. “You say that now.”

“Yeah. I do. And I’ve seen a lot of shit. I think you’d be surprised at what won’t phase me.”

He nods, small movements of his head, and his eyes flick over you.

“What do I have to do to prove I’m tough enough for you?”

“You don’t.” There’s a hint of something stronger in his voice, though still weary. “We don’t need to start this off by proving something to each other.”

“Well, we really started this off with me spraying you with a—”

“Yes.” He waves his hand, as if physically swatting away the thought of it. “I know. The only one to put me in my place.”

You smile. “I’d do it again, too.”

He nods again, slower, this time, and his eyes slide closed. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

You lower your voice, even it out, try not to shake him from this calmer state. “Friday, then. We’ll go to the track on Friday.”

“Friday.” He repeats. He sits back on the couch, head falling back onto the arch of its highest point.

“And we’ll keep figuring things out there.” You close your eyes, too, mimicking his movement of leaning his head back. “Give you a reason outside of work.”

Silence from him. The faint sound of his breathing, slow, steady, reaches you. You curl your legs up onto the couch, folding your arms in, so you lie in an upright fetal position, head resting on your knees. And, like that, sharing the space of your living room, you slip into a fitful, but deep sleep.

When you wake up, he’s gone. Light filters in from the window, rays stretching out to land on the coffee table. You blink in the early light, and sit up to find a note, sitting resolutely in the ray of sunlight.

Friday. I’ll come pick you up.

Thank you for giving me a reason.

-Tom

#peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaker blinders fandom #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders fanfic

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heartfullofleeches · 3 months

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Antique shop yandere that’s just a spirit with a physical body made of all the trinkets in the shop, maybe darling is shopkeeping as a part time job? I imagine just yan being kinda annoying and teasing maybe even speaking in riddles like a poet, and darling is probably just like the ff darling

-blahaj anon🦈🤍

Yan Spirit + Shop Worker Darling

Another drop off.

Better than the alternative of having to pick up everything yourself. A family a few streets down from your place of work generously donated the left over trinkets from their yard sale - agreeing to leave everything at the back door on their way out of town. Most of the boxes had already been taken in - a fact you knew thanks to the sticky note taped to the top of the container.

"Morning, Love. ♡ Carried in most of the boxes myself. Could you kindly bring this one in? It's a little too heavy for me.

See you this afternoon! - Auntie"

You slip the paper into your pocket, making a mental note to check up on your boss before then. She wasn't your real aunt, but she acted as much. Probably pays you a bit more than she should with her always trying to take your job off your hands and let you rest. Her kindness is one of few reasons you can't up and leave this place.

Lifting the box off the ground, you kick the ajar door open with your foot - balancing the heavy box in your arms as you slip through. You walk through the back office up to the front front desk. You search the cubby beneath the table for a box cutter, nails latching onto the rubber handle as you stretch your arm to the far back. You stand up - only to find that the box appears to have been torn open by something. The entire top looks to have been ripped off and tossed across the room.

Sighing, you brace yourself for what's to come - wishing you had had just a few more minutes to yourself. You place the box cutter back where it came from to prevent yourself from causing anymore damage to the merchandise.

"Hello....Dear...."

Static hisses from the worn out speakers of the device your tormentor uses - overlaying the awful amalgamation of voices its stolen from customers. Being unable to communicate due to the limitations of their vessels it had to find some other way to speak to you. That alternative wind up being a soundboard someone brought in a few weeks into your employment. Everyday since you berate yourself for not taking that damn thing out back and smashing it..... Or just purchasing it yourself and taking it off the property.

"I've been waiting for you......all night. New.... treasures for us?

A hand reaches over your shoulder and begins to shift through the box - the creaky moan of its joints reverbing from the wooden shell encircling them. The mannequin had proved to be the spirit's favorite body. Near identical to a human form despite the lack of a face, the ability to speak, and one of its arms after a guests insisted on paying for the singular pair. It made due with items it found around the shop. The sound board, an old Halloween mask to disguise its blank fact, a limb from another figure in the shop though it wasn't as articulated as the previous.

The spirit tosses items it finds no interest in at the floor - your skin jumping as glass shatters in the distance. Halfway through the box its sporadic movements hault - the springs in its neck screaming out as its head falls to its shoulder. Using the flat palm of their other hand as a perch, the mannequin pulls out a ring box. It opens the box, a pearl ring housed inside. You were expecting - and praying for it to be empty. You meet the mannequin's sightless gaze over your shoulder.

"No."

Its fingers rapidly tap at its soundboard - slamming down on every sweet name in arsenal.

"Darling....."

"Angel..."

"Sweetheart."

"Love?"

"I'm not letting you put that on me."

The mannequin slams its hand on the counter- repeatedly jabbing a single button.

"Love? Love? Love?"

"Knock it off!"

You make a grab for the board, but the damned thing is quicker. It holds the device over its head out of reach - twirling the ring around its pinky finger. There was only one thing you could do to buy it compliance.

You hold up your left hand, sticking out your ring finger. "Just get it over with."

The mannequin sets the soundboard on the counter - clapping its hands together as it kneels. It takes your hand, pressing the mouth of its mask to your knuckles before slipping the ring onto your finger. Surprisingly enough, it's almost a perfect fit. A little wiggle room, but not so much that it would fall off from you moving around. The mannequin bounces back to its feet, throwing its arms around you.

Your dating life was hard already - it'll be pretty difficult to find anyone what with you now being spiritually married to a sentient mannequin possessed by the ghost of someone likely as old as this building.

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere ghost #yandere drabble

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starlight-eclipsed · 1 year

Text

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.)

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

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@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

#dp x dc fanfic #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #danny x tim #my fic #complete #gonna be honest I planned to stop at part I #but it felt incomplete so I threw together a bunch of scenes I wanted to see between them #pacing is for people with time

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