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onlyhuis · 1 year

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cranberry concoctions

member | bartender!joshua x f!reader genre | smut, a little angst & a little fluff, 1920s prohibition au, speakeasy au word count | 4.6k synopsis | you came to the infamous diamond glass looking for a good cocktail. instead, you found love in a hot bartender who also makes the best cosmos you’ve ever had. warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, alcohol consumption (drink responsibly kids), reader smokes cigarettes (only 2), big dick joshua, the sex is not historically accurate sorry, actually most of this isn't historically accurate oops, praise, some degredation, multiple orgasms, name calling/petnames (slut, whore, darling, sweetheart, baby, my lady), kinda size kink maybe (he has big hands i'm sorry i can't not mention it), creampie notes | lowercase intended. this is part of rose's sax, settlements, & speakeasies collab! masterlist will be linked here. this fic has taken so long but it's finally finished!! thank you all for your patience!!

you slip into one of the many empty seats at the bar, placing your beaded evening bag on the counter and pulling out a cigarette with a sigh.

“what can i get you, darling?”

you glance up to see a man in a crisp white button-down, casually swiping a rag along a glass mug.

“what kinda cocktails you got?” you reply, pushing the cigarette between your teeth.

“anything you can dream up, honey.”

you pause, taking the cigarette out of your mouth to think. “how about… cranberry juice, with vodka, and triple sec? and a little lime?”

he grins. “coming right up.”

he grabs bottles from the long shelves behind him, setting them back on the counter in front of you before pulling a cocktail glass from below the bar.

you slip the cigarette back into your mouth, your eyes following his movements as you pull your lighter out of your bag. you flip the arm up and flick the wheel, creating a tall flame that ignites with a pop, and you bring it carefully up to the end of the stick.

he pushes his sleeves up, revealing a small tattoo of what looks like a diamond on the inside of his wrist. your gaze catches it for a moment before your eyes flick up to find his looking back at you.

with his sleeves rolled up, you don’t miss the way his muscles bulge against the tight cotton of his dress shirt. he tosses the container effortlessly from one hand to the other. the tendons in his wrist flex as he flips the shaker back and forth, a gleam in his eye and a confident grin on his face as the bottle twirls between his fingers. you take a long drag and give him a smile.

“cool tricks you got there,” you say, sitting back in your seat.

“i spent a year abroad at school in london,” he beams, holding the mixer high in the air and tilting it slightly to let the pink liquid fall into your glass. “picked up a thing or two.”

he tops off the drink with a lime swirl, sliding it gently across the counter. you hold your cigarette between two fingers as you lift the glass to your lips, taking a small sip.

“mm,” you nod, smiling. “ ‘s good.”

the dark room is quiet save for the light chatter from other patrons and the sultry piano music coming from the opposite side of the room. it’s late in the evening—well, by now, more like morning—and the speakeasy is mostly empty. you’re the only one at the bar, and you’re also the only one here alone, noticing the few couples scattered around the room in booths, drinking and laughing together.

you sigh and take another drag off your cigarette.

“you waitin’ on someone, sweetheart?” the bartender asks with a sly smile, tossing the rag behind the bar. “boyfriend, perhaps? or a coworker? can get their drink ready for them, if you’d like.”

you scoff, resting your hand on the counter above an ashtray. “do you often get women comin’ in here by themselves, mister?”

he leans back against the bar and crosses his arms, but the playful gleam in his eyes tells you he isn’t offended. “not as often as i get pretty ladies like yourself in here,” he flirts. “and the name’s joshua. joshua hong.”

you stick out your hand to shake his, telling him your name. “so, joshua, what do you do? other than serve fancy drinks to pretty ladies, of course,” you say, taking another sip of your cocktail. damn, that is good. your friend wasn’t lying when she said that the diamond glass had the best drinks around.

“nothin’ much,” he shrugs. “i like to sing, sometimes. but not anything special. just a hobby.” he hands you a napkin, to wipe up the drops of your drink that splashed out onto the counter when you bumped it. “what do you do when you’re not ordering fancy drinks from sexy gentlemen?”

“thanks,” you say, squinting at him as you take the napkin, the name of the speakeasy embossed on it in pretty gold lettering. “and who ever said you were a gentleman?”

he smiles. “let me take you out to dinner and i’ll show you.”

your eyes widen, though you try to hide your reaction. “is that so, mister joshua?”

“mhm. and you never answered the question.”

you huff and raise an eyebrow at him. “how ‘bout i tell you over dinner instead?”

you take another big sip of your drink and look down at your watch to check the time. “shit,” you curse under your breath.

you look up and meet joshua’s eyes, standing patiently behind the bar. “i’ve got work in the morning– er, in a coupl’a hours,” you offer in way of explanation. “gotta run.”

“i see,” he nods, his features falling into a faux-serious expression. “the mysterious work.”

“better hold me to that dinner if you wanna find out,” you reply with a laugh as you pull on your coat.

he grins. “oh, i will, darling.”

you pull your bag off the counter and go to take out some bills, but a large hand falls on your wrist and you freeze.

“on the house,” he says with a grin, letting go of your hand and sliding your empty glass across the counter. “come find me if you ever want some company, and we can set up that dinner, hm?”

you nod at him, unable to hide the hint of a smile growing on your face. “i’ll do that.”

the next time you visit the diamond glass, the place is packed.

it’s earlier in the evening this time, so you aren’t too surprised, but you didn’t think there were this many people who’d break the law to come here in search of a little fun. but, then again, isn’t that why you’re here too? a little fun, a little drinking, and hopefully a little more flirting with joshua, if you can manage to find him again.

the bar’s crowded, and you can barely manage to find a place to slip in between all the occupied stools. you crane your neck to look around, searching to see who the bartender working tonight is. this time there’s not one but two men in stiff white uniforms, handing out bottles of beer and pouring wine for the patrons at the other end of the bar. you can’t see either of their faces, so you lean against the counter and pull out a cigarette while you wait.

you’re leaning down putting your lighter away when you hear a familiar voice call your name.

“didn’t think i’d see you back here so soon,” joshua says when you look up, meeting his eyes.

“came to collect on my free dinner, of course,” you reply with what you hope is a teasing smile.

he chuckles. “well, i hate to break your heart, darling, but i’m a little busy at the moment. how ‘bout i get you a drink instead?”

“fine by me.”

“same as before?” he asks, already reaching for a glass.

you pause to put your cigarette to your lips. “sure, why not. show me more of those gentleman bartender skills you like to show off.”

he starts pouring liquor into the shaker as he continues to talk. “i’m sure i’ve got other skills you’d like a lot better than my drink mixing, sweetheart. maybe i’ll show you after that dinner we keep talkin’ about.”

you suck in a sharp gasp of air, accidentally inhaling a mouthful of smoke and sending you into a coughing fit. you grab a napkin to cover your mouth with as you struggle to regain your composure, feeling your cheeks grow hotter by the second.

joshua just smiles, clearly amused by your reaction as he slides you your finished drink. “well, don’t lose your cool now, miss, i haven’t even done anything fancy yet. gotta give me a chance to wow you like a gentleman.”

you clear your throat, hoping your voice sounds at least a little levelheaded. “how very courteous of you, mister joshua. i–”

you’re definitely about to come up with the wittiest of comebacks, is what you tell yourself before you’re interrupted by a group of flapper girls, talking loudly as they walk up to the bar.

“and that’s when i told him, ‘if you don’t stop necking on with that sob sister from the newspaper’s, we’re through!’ he really thought i wouldn’t see through that baloney, screwing that reporter and then coming home to me as if he could have us both!”

the group bursts out laughing, and joshua looks over at them, then looks back at you. “mind if i go get these ladies seated, darling? then we can finish our conversation.”

you stutter out a “sure” and he gives you a wink as he walks away. even over the ruckus of the speakeasy, you can still hear him greet the girls, and it makes you irritated for reasons you can’t explain.

“well hi there, girls! how’s the partying goin’ for you all on this fine evening, and how can i make it better?”

the chorus of flirty, drawn out “hello”’s from the group makes your stomach churn, though you have no reason to care. it’s this man’s job to flirt with customers to make an extra buck and keep this joint running. to him, you’re probably just another broad with money to throw away on booze.

you turn around to see one of the drunker girls hanging on joshua’s arm, laughing at something he’s said like he’s the funniest man on the planet. the sight is enough to push you over the edge, and you down your drink in a huff, slipping a bill under the empty glass as you walk out of the speakeasy, pretending your feelings aren’t hurt.

you wake up the next morning feeling guilty about the night before. sure, you probably did overreact, but it had been a long day at work, getting badgered by your boss for no reason other than the fact that he didn’t like having women employees in his office.

and joshua seemed like a nice man, and even if he was just trying to earn some tips, at least he was friendly.

so that night, you put on your finest dress and head back to the diamond glass, hoping for the chance to talk to him again.

but as you walk across the bar, you see that there’s only one bartender at the counter, and it’s not joshua. he looks vaguely familiar, so you figure he must’ve been the other bartender working with him the other night.

“hey,” you call out to him as you sit down, and he turns to face you, black hair falling into his eyes.

“how can i help you, miss?”

“what’s your name?” you ask him straight away, and he furrows his brows.

“it’s vernon, miss, but i don’t see—”

“you work with a fella named joshua?”

vernon rests his hands on the counter, leaning towards you. “i do indeed, but he ain’t here right now. it’s his day off.”

you frown. well. that messes with your plans.

“you gotta pen?” you ask, grabbing a napkin from the stack.

he pulls a pen from his breast pocket and twists it open, handing it to you. you scribble something quickly on the napkin, then cap the pen and hand it back to him.

you fold up the napkin and give it to vernon. “when you see him again, can you give this to him for me? it’s real important, make sure he gets it.”

he looks confused, but he shoves the pen and napkin into his pocket. “i’ll make sure it does.”

you nod soberly and stand up from the stool.

“wait– d’you want anything to drink, miss?”

you shake your head, shouldering your purse. “no. that’s all i came for.”

and with that you walk back out the door, frustrated but at least a little more hopeful.

joshua, sorry for taking off last night. phone me and we can do that dinner if you’d still like. #: SE-0317

the wait for joshua’s phone call is unbearable, so instead of pacing by the telephone you try to busy yourself with something more productive: getting work done for your hard-boiled boss.

but even the pressure of his deadlines is enough to take your mind off what you’ve done. in fact, you don’t even know for sure if he’s single. for all you know you could be trying to screw a married man (though you didn’t notice a ring on his finger, but who can ever know for sure these days?)

the worst part is, you don’t even know for sure if he’s going to phone you, or if he even got your message. vernon seemed like a trustworthy guy, but maybe he and his coworkers get people like this all the time. maybe they’re having to fight off hordes of drunk, horny women with a stick. you scoff, thinking back to the last time you were at the speakeasy. that was certainly the case the other night with the flappers.

in all honesty, joshua was probably just being friendly, trying to make a repeat customer out of you. which he was successful in, of course; he had you hook, line, and sinker, and you didn’t even care. of course his offer to wine and dine you wasn’t genuine: it was a line, one he’d probably used on dozens of people, and you had fallen for it.

you’re so far deep in your own thoughts, you almost miss the sound of the telephone ringing in the other room; until you realize there’s no one else that would be calling you at this hour in the evening.

in a panic you scramble out of your chair, sprinting to the kitchen to grab the call.

“hello?” you answer, a little breathless but still holding onto hope.

“hi, sweetheart. thought you weren’t gonna pick up.”

you breathe out a sigh of relief at the man on the other end. maybe he really was sincere about everything after all, though you still don’t truly believe it.

“are you finally gonna take me out like you keep saying, or are you just tryin’ to get me to buy more drinks?” you ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the shake of nerves in your voice.

“‘course i am, baby. i don’t just go around offering dinner to every woman i meet at work, y’know.”

your cheeks warm, and you hold the receiver closer to your ear with a smile. “flattery will get you nowhere, joshua hong, but i won’t deny it, i like to hear it.”

he laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound, one that you find yourself wishing you could hear in person.

“there’s a new restaurant on the main drag that i’ve heard’s real fancy,” he starts. “been meaning to try it, so i might as well take my pretty lady along with me, too, hm?”

you chuckle, leaning against the doorframe and twirling the phone cord between your fingers. "your pretty lady, huh?"

"wouldn't say it 'f it wasn't true. you've got me wrapped around your little finger, miss," he says, and you have to bite the back of your hand to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing noise in response.

he clears his throat, interrupting the silence on the line. “anyway, if you'd like, the speakeasy’s closed tonight for the holiday… could bring you back behind the bar after our dinner, show you a thing or two. although i got plenty of other nice things i could show you besides the drinks.”

"sounds like you got a grand evenin' planned, joshua," you say finally, swallowing your excitement.

"only for you, doll," he says, and even over the shaky static of the call you can hear the grin in his voice. "can i pick you up at 6 o'clock? just had my car waxed too; only the best for my lady."

"six is nice," you reply, still smiling.

"i'll see you then, sweetheart," he says, and the line goes silent as he ends the call.

exhaling a shaky breath, you put the receiver back on the hook and check the time on the clock across the room. better go fix your makeup before he gets here.

at 6 o'clock sharp joshua’s car rolls up in front of your apartment, freshly waxed and polished just like he'd said.

the drive to the new restaurant isn't far, but it feels like it stretches on for hours as you and joshua talk about anything and everything.

as for dinner, it by far isn't the best meal you've ever had, but your date's company more than makes up for the mediocre food.

as promised, after the dinner joshua drives you over to the speakeasy, using his key to open the back entrance where customers aren't allowed and lets you inside. it's an odd feeling, being alone in the space that's normally bustling with activity.

you slide into a seat at the counter as joshua grins, walking to the opposite side to stand behind the bar.

"sorry, miss, we're closed today," he says with a playful grin. "you'll have to come back tomorrow."

you giggle, playing along. "oh, but please, sir, can't you spare just a little glass of wine for me?"

the restaurants aren't allowed to serve alcohol, but even without it you feel tipsy in joshua’s presence, high on the excitement of being with him with nobody else around.

he places his hands on the counter and leans forward, his gaze meeting yours. "hmm, i could… but i think i have something better i could give you instead."

"better than wine?" you ask, pretending to be shocked. although if you've been reading this right like you think you've been, you have a feeling you know what he might be offering.

"mhm," he says, and he lifts a finger to beckon you closer.

you grin and lean forward to meet him across the counter, his lips locking with yours, and the feeling is heavenly. almost instantly you feel his hands behind your head, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. you tell yourself to fight the urge to moan, but when his lips part just enough to let his tongue slide into your mouth, all your inhibitions go out the stained-glass speakeasy windows and you decide, screw it, whatever happens, happens; not when you're having the most fun you've had in a long time and not when his touch feels this good.

he breaks away for just a second and to your surprise, jumps onto the bar and slides across, and then his hands are back on your body and he's kissing you more fervently than before.

"say the word and i'll stop, sweetheart," he moans, he really moans, but the thought of stopping doesn't even cross your mind as you pull him closer and lift your leg to wrap it behind his thigh.

before you know it, your back is against the counter and joshua is hovering over you. his large hands gently knead your breasts over the fabric of your dress and his mouth is still tangled with yours as you begin to feel heat pooling in your stomach.

"god, you drive me crazy," he breathes when your hands find his body and start to slide lower. you look up at him, one hand hovering carefully over the uncomfortably large bulge in his pants.

"please, joshua?" you ask softly, squeezing lightly around him and drawing another whine out of his gorgeous lips.

the second you hear his throaty "yes", your fingers are scrambling to undo his belt buckle and shoving his slacks down to his knees. his fingers are equally rushed, sliding over your back and quickly undoing the buttons holding up the fabric that hides your beautiful skin from his sight.

your breath hitches as he carefully slips the dress off your shoulders, watching as his eyes wander over you. he meets your eyes, fingers toying with the hem of your panties, and you nod, giving him permission.

“you’re even prettier than i imagined,” he whispers. his hands trail down your chest, mapping out every inch of your naked body.

his words barely even register, because you’re too busy staring at his hard cock. you figured he would be beautiful, but nothing you could’ve dreamed up in your wildest dreams would have even come close to what’s in front of you now.

you reach out and take his cock in your hand, holding him delicately and observing the way his eyes flutter shut. he lets out a soft sigh at your touch, and his hands settle at your waist for a moment before he reaches to grab your hand.

it doesn’t escape you how tiny your hand looks in comparison to his; while your fingers could barely reach all the way around his cock, his hand easily covers the space. the sight is almost hypnotizing. you carefully let go, bringing your hand up to the counter to brace yourself.

he leans down to capture your lips in another kiss, and you moan as you feel the head of his cock begin to brush through your soaking folds. he breaks away, and you look up into his dark eyes, waiting.

“been stuck on you since the first time i saw you, sweetheart,” he groans, and you feel the heat in your core grow hotter at his admission, knowing he’s been wanting this just as much as you have.

he curses under his breath, and finally he starts to fill you up. the stretch is perfect as he rocks his hips slowly back and forth, pushing into you a little more with each movement. his brows knit together in concentration, and his lips firmly press into a thin line as his gaze zeroes in on your pussy.

you look down where he’s watching, and you also can’t help but fixate on the sight of his girthy cock inside you. he’s not even nearly halfway inside you yet, but the feeling is already making you dizzy with pleasure. seeing him stretching you open, you feel the knot in your stomach begin to tighten almost instantly.

with his sleeves rolled up, you can clearly see the definition in his muscles, flexing as his hands slide across your half-clothed figure. his thick fingers hook around the straps of your bra, tugging them further down your chest to expose your breasts. he pushes his thumb into your mouth, and immediately you begin to suck on it.

he laughs, pulling his thumb out of your mouth and smearing your own spit across your nipple. “such a whore. should’ve known you would like that, my pretty slut.”

you let out a moan at his words, unintentionally clenching around him as he continues to push into you. you feel his grip on your thighs tighten, enough that you know it’ll leave bruises.

your first orgasm hits you out of nowhere when joshua bottoms out in you. the feeling of his cock sitting snugly inside of you, filling you up to the brim and then some, is enough to send you over the edge without warning. joshua curses, your cunt squeezing around his cock as you ride through your high.

“fuck, just like that, baby,” he grunts through gritted teeth, his other hand snaking down to rub at your clit. “cum all over my cock like my good girl.”

when you recover enough to breathe again, you look up to find joshua staring down at you, eyes blown wide with lust. his fingers are still on your clit, your only source of stimulation since he had stopped moving his hips once he was fully inside you.

he meets your eyes and begins to drag his cock out of you, just barely pressing an inch or two into you with slow, meticulous thrusts.

he gradually begins to build up speed, his cock perfectly hitting every sensitive part inside of you until you can’t think straight. you let your eyes close, mouth falling open in pleasure at his pace.

“god, you look so pretty when you cum,” joshua growls, and it feels like you stop breathing altogether as another orgasm slams into you, his words drawing your high out of you like a command.

this time he doesn’t give you a moment to recover, instead pulling nearly all the way out before pushing into you with so much force, you can feel him moving you back and forth across the counter with each thrust, the smooth oak grain growing sticky with sweat with each sharp snap of his hips.

already sensitive from two powerful orgasms, you cry out his name, dragging your nails along his biceps placed on either side of your face as he holds onto the counter. his thrusts get rougher, plunging into you over and over again and already beginning to build you up for another.

“sh-shua, please,” you gasp, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders for support.

the drag of his cock against your walls feels heavenly, quickly sending you hurtling into yet another orgasm that has your legs trembling around his waist. the waves of pleasure seem almost never-ending as his hips jerk into you sporadically, until finally he throws his head back and buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you, his pelvis flush against your cunt. his cock pulses inside you as his orgasm hits, feeling each spurt of cum fill you up, a satisfying feeling like you can’t even fathom.

breathing hard, you manage to drag your eyes away from where the two of you connect to glance up at his face, and the sight is one you’ll never forget: his thick eyebrows knitted tightly together and his nose scrunched up, his beautiful lips parted in a breathy, high-pitched whine.

the bar is quiet, but your ears are ringing and your head is spinning from everything that just happened. joshua stands over you, his cock still nestled in you as he breathes in and out shallowly, trying to catch his breath. you stay still, too exhausted to move until you feel his cum start to drip down your leg and you force yourself to sit up.

but his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly and you stop. you feel so secure, so grounded, despite your shaky legs dangling off the edge of the counter.

he sighs and begins pressing kisses along your neck, though this time they’re softer and gentler, instead of frantic and heated.

he kisses you once more on the cheek, then walks around to the other side of the bar to grab a towel.

“sorry about the mess,” you say shyly, reaching down to pick up your dress off of one of the barstools it had landed on.

he comes back around, towel in hand, and kisses you again. “don’t be,” he grins, and he squats down so that he’s eye-level with your cunt, his cum still leaking out of you. you resist the urge to snap your legs closed as he gently wipes the damp towel over your skin, a little embarrassed despite him being inside you no more than a couple of minutes ago.

once he’s satisfied he lifts you up off the counter, setting you gently on the floor and helping you into your dress before putting his own clothes back on.

you slide onto a stool, watching him fondly as he walks back around to the other side of the bar and picks up another towel to wipe off the counter with.

“so,” he says finally, rolling up his sleeves with a cocky smile that makes your stomach do backflips. “what can i make you, darling?”

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withoutyouimsaskia · 3 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 1)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

GIF: Originally posted by @tavners

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Home invasion. Voyeurism. Implied masturbation. Dream manipulation.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Wow, this took way longer to finish than I had originally planned. My head's been all over the place with trying (and thus far failing) to find a new job. The themes are very different to what I've written before; I hope it reads okay. Please let me know what you think. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

Fate.

A phenomenon that governed every particle of matter within the known universe and even those beyond.

Some considered it a comforting concept that excused them from the burden of decision making, citing: "I'll leave it up to fate." For others the phrase was a cursory, throw-away comment or a romantic line they heard in the lyrics of a song.

The real truth of the matter was that Fate was a trio of immortal beings, goddesses, with sight so potent that they knew the past, present and future of every individual to have lived. The mythology of the Greeks, Romans and Norse hadn't been too far off with their stories of the Moirai, Parcae and Norns but of course, no humans really believed there to be any realism in myths. They were just stories. It didn't matter either way; they existed and had influence regardless of what the majority believed.

For beings such as The Endless siblings, the presence of Fate in the cosmos was not only real, but also something that affected even themselves.

For the King of Dreams, an eventuality had been prophesised long ago by The Kindly Ones that spoke of a bond that was to be forged between himself and a mortal.

Lord Morpheus, in his pride, had tried to be above such a foretelling, even questioning its validity because the notion of a mortal accepting his version of the universe seemed wholly implausible.

But he could not truly stop himself from wondering about you, reaching out to see if he could feel your presence in the minds of the dreamers he hosted.

It wasn't something he indulged in with frequency. More of a once-in a-decade interval. Enough to appease his curiosity.

Of course, this was put on hold during his imprisonment at Fawney Rig.

Morpheus had had much to contemplate during this period. The damage his absence caused to the collective subconscious, the decay of his realm, the loss of freedom and dignity. There was also a chance that you had been born and died in the 106 years he spent in captivity.

What if he was too late and had lost the chance of discovering who you were?

It was a nauseating prospect that scraped and scratched a space deep within his being; bleeding him of his remaining stores of hope that were so significantly depleted after the death of beloved Jessamy.

Despite the nasty emotional wound, finding you was a charge that he assigned at the end of his priorities after his escape.

Recovering his scattered tools, restoring the Dreaming, locating his absent creations, unravelling the mystery of Rose Walker and confronting Desire all had needed to come first.

The latter interaction had left Morpheus with a seething rage that was currently propelling him down the boards of the dock that sit above the Ocean of Dreams.

The dense mist in the air is buffeted by his movements and the only sounds are the tread of boots, the creak of wooden slats and the lap of water.

With each step, the liquid becomes choppier as it reacts to its master's mood and by the time he has reached the end of the dock, the surface of the water roils fervorously, completely in line with Morpheus' dangerous temperament.

The words of Desire's final silken-toned taunt echo in his mind with grating persistence.

"Oh, poor Dream. I really got under your skin this time, didn't I?"

He is loathe to admit there is truth in the question.

There are moments where Morpheus ponders the turn that the relationship between them has taken. How Desire went from being his favourite sibling to someone one shade shy of an adversary. Their faultless adeptness at provoking his temper and manipulating the events that encircle him would be impressive if not for the danger posed to humanity.

The agitated water eventually draws focus to how out of control he and his emotions have become. Morpheus knows he must get them in check, and quickly, for he knows the consequences all too well should he ignore it.

He clenches his fist and swallows it all down, pushing it deep inside his belly until the crackling entropy of the anger is fully dispelled.

Morpheus then sweeps his coat out behind him as he sinks lithely into a crouch. Trepidation nips at his heart and tugs his attention to a sobering thought.

This foray into the water may be fruitless.

You may be long gone and there would be no way of ever knowing you.

His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath; he has run out of excuses to not look, even if he is afraid of the outcome.

Long, delicate fingers dapple the surface of the inky ocean. The waves still at the touch, obedient to him with instancy.

He repositions to full height and reaches into his coat to find the pouch of sand stashed in the pocket. A handful of twinkling grains slip off his palm into the ocean, lighting the water it touches to a luminous green.

"Find my soulmate," Morpheus commands silently.

The intention is set. He steps off the dock into the water.

At first, like every other prior attempt, there is no sign of you. Morpheus floats submerged in the tepid liquid, filtering through the hubbub of countless other dreams and nightmares.

Then there is a pull.

It is faint yet indisputable. Warmth explodes in his chest and he groans inwardly from the delicious sensation of relief.

You are alive, and you are dreaming.

A path of radiance appears in the water, a line that shows your connection, and provides a location for him to hone in on.

Morpheus dives deeper without hesitation.

As he reaches the edge of your subconscious, he rejoices that he got a handle on his emotions. He wouldn't want your first perception of him to be one tinged with rage, however unaware you were of him, with your soulmate being the source.

He hesitates for a moment before entering the dream you are in and is somewhat taken aback by what he finds.

A room comprising of four blank walls, a floor, a ceiling and a door. There is but one other feature; a window, and its view is as non-descript and inoffensive as the internal space.

You stand by said window, head turned from him.

Despite being unable to see your face, he sees your anxiety with immediacy. It is an aura hovering about your body, being sucked into your lungs with every fast-paced breath.

You begin to throw glances towards the door. Morpheus filters through the layers of the dream. No one is scheduled to come across the threshold.

The more he observes, the more questions arise in Morpheus' mind.

What was making you so affected? What were you expecting to happen?

There's nothing in the scene that is intended to be unpleasant yet you are reacting in a way that most observers would characterise as unsettled.

Morpheus, despite not yet knowing you, doesn't like to see you this way. His dominant instinct is to end the dream but he quashes the desire to review the bigger picture.

The empty room dream was symbolic of a beginning.

It clicks into place.

What you were feeling, even if on a purely instinctual level, was the anticipation of meeting your soulmate and starting your new life.

Morpheus steps into the frame, just a couple of paces behind you.

You feel his presence instantly, eyes full to the brim with tears as you whirl around with a soft gasp.

You see him.

The tears spill and patter onto the white floor.

Morpheus reaches out, overcome by his need to provide comfort.

You disappear.

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

Morpheus is sat on his throne. He pores over the book he had located in the Dreaming's library a little over a week ago that contains the details of your life. It is something he has taken to doing when the impatience of waiting for you to fall asleep becomes too keen.

Your subconscious has him enraptured, watching it every night as if it is a stage show. Each dream he delves into is like the tug of fingers on a loose thread, your psyche has begun to unravel before him.

Everything from whims to cravings, hopes to fears. Your temperament, the things that delight and irk you. What drives you and demotivates you. He consumes it all with an insatiable hunger.

Based on the projection of yourself that he sees, there is no doubt that he is attracted to you.

All that prior haughty disregard for the Fates' prophecy has been cast aside like a negative thought in a meditation session. Morpheus is a romantic. A believer. He is ashamed to have even doubted your coming.

He wonders if it would vex Desire to learn of him finding his soulmate and by extension, the prospect of companionship, perhaps even physical intimacy or love.

It is all too easy to imagine the sickly sweet grin they would smile at him, shown to be fake by the almost imperceptible contempt glinting in their golden eyes.

Would his triumph drive them to distraction?

It is this smug sentiment that spurs his next decision. He wants more. The next logical step is to find you in the waking world.

He rises from his throne, a sure hand ready to bring forth his pouch of sand when he falters.

Tears pool in his eyes.

His mind is suddenly marred with the memories of what happened in 1916. The agony, mortification and rage that followed. He couldn't go through that kind of treatment ever again and the waking world expanded the risk of it transpiring.

"No," he says resolutely. His sadness turns to resolve, the hard line of his grimace matching those set in his brows.

He will not let the actions of a group of mortals dissuade him from going to you. And besides, he has researched everything he can about you from within the safety of the Dreaming.

He takes a measure of sand and uses it to materialise within your bedroom.

It is obvious from a quick scan of it that deliberate attempts have been made to ensure the space is cosy and calming.

Two marshmallowy pillows support your head. The cotton sheets have been meticulously tucked to avoid drafts. A lavender reed diffuser fragrances the air with a subtle scent. There are no devices or screens visible.

Everything has its place. A coaster supported glass of water within reaching distance. Touch activated lamp in case of emergency. The diary lined up with the back left corner of the bedside table, pen placed parallel in the spine dent. All clothes are in the wardrobe or stashed in the laundry basket.

Morpheus moves to the curtain-shrouded window and delicately moves the dark, heavy fabric to catch a glimpse of the outside world.

The scene is sepia stained from an old streetlight positioned right outside your home. It explained the choice of curtains.

You stir slightly from the change in environment and Morpheus allows the curtain to fall back in place. He remains stationary until your breathing returns to its previous pace. It is imperative that his presence remains undisclosed. He knows that mortals do not take well to home invasion.

Then, your right hand slips out from the duvet cocoon revealing a cushion cut ruby ring on your middle finger.

He smiles exultantly. The similarity between the jewel and his own now-destroyed dreamstone was undeniable.

The Fates were making it transparent.

You were the one.

Morpheus approaches the side of your bed now. In your momentary discomfort, you had moved your head, making your whole face visible to your uninvited guest.

He bends gracefully so his face is closer to yours and observes you with an intent fascination.

Even in the gloom, Morpheus asserts that your features are even more captivating now that he is able to look upon them in person and is certain that if he could guarantee an absence of fear then he would fall to knees and worship you right there.

Fingers stroke a lock of hair splayed across the pillow and his thoughts turn darker still, imagining what he would do with you if he could get you alone in the Dreaming. How he would seduce you with words, and then pleasure your body with his own until you were senseless.

Getting you there would be so easy, all he needed to do was move his hand up and touch your skin and -

Morpheus stops himself, deciding that now is not the time for an introduction. He will wait until tomorrow. You need to rest. It will be quite the revelation for your sweet mortal heart.

Morpheus whispers a promise, "We will be together soon, my precious soulmate."

He leaves after taking one last look at your peaceful form.

When he returns to the Dreaming, Morpheus discovers that the visit has riled him way beyond what he thought possible.

It was supposed to sate his curiosity and answer some questions.

It has done the opposite.

His craving for you is sublimely intense, opiate-like in its ensnarement.

He needs to possess you. To have you all to himself. Everything would fall into place. Loneliness, disillusionment, jealousy; they would never darken his outlook again. You would heal him, he is certain of it.

He paces restlessly in the low light of his private chambers as heat ripples beneath the surface of his being, charging him with pure sexual lust.

He hungers for the moment when you feel the same about him.

For now, all he can do is stand and touch himself while thinking of your face, an act that has been carried out repeatedly in the days since he found you in the Ocean of Dreams.

An erotic idea enters his mind.

Your subconscious is still in the Dreaming; he knows the feeling of it intimately.

Perhaps he could bring you a dream mirroring his own current fantasy.

To give you a taste of what was to come.

A gift that only he could bestow.

The mere thought of it turns him on even more. His back arches and his eyes roll back as he choses the words through which he would deliver the offering.

"Dream of me," Morpheus murmurs breathlessly. "Dream of me."

He repeats the phrase until he is unable to continue, moans taking over the darkened space around him.

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

It is dusk the next day when Morpheus returns to the waking world.

The instant he touches down on the Earth's surface, he knows exactly where to go. The metaphysical connection between you is as strong as the energy pulsing through a ley line.

The city he is directed to is thrumming with life but the side street he stands in has been spared from the furore.

It is fortuitous that he is permitted to be unobserved for Morpheus is struggling now with the urge to get closer.

Providence is pulling him in and also locking him out.

He walks up to the door and then an invisible force makes him back away.

He doesn't even try to fight it.

The Fates hold all the cards. Morpheus is beholden to their each and every whim.

It is surprisingly liberating.

He is dancing in the cross hairs. Blinkered by the tie the universe has fashioned for you.

All he has to do is wait.

The door to the building is pushed open.

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

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd

"Fate. Up against your will. Through the thick and thin. He will wait until you give yourself to him."

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dailyadventureprompts · 4 months

Note

Hey Dapper! As an avid follower of- and equally avid inspiration-taker from your work, first of all, thank you for the work you've put into all this. It is a treasure-trove of knowledge and inspiration that has certainly made me very happy. Can I ask for your thoughts on Tharizdun? I've been trying to form a concept of it for in my own world, but I've had little success.

Monsters Reimagined: Tharizdun, the Whisperer in Darkness

Being the default "god of madness" Tharizdun brings together two of my enduring gripes with d&d: gods that no one would actually worship and the enduring legacy of depicting people with mental illness as dangerous lunatics devoid of empathy and reason.

As he currently exists in the DM's toolbox, the whole point of including Tharizdun in your campaign is to act as the powersource behind whichever final fantasy style endboss wants to start the apocalypse before unleashing a mass of offband lovecraftian tentacles. Derivative, trite, his singular desire to inspire others to end the world is MCU levels of failing to give villains proper motivations.

We can do better

TLDR: Far In the wildest depths of the astral sea the ur-god Tharizdun is formless and thoughtless, yet dreaming. Resembling nothing so much as a cosmic nebula of oily clouds, a vast and shapeless expanse of churning primordial chaos that pulses with synapses of psychic lighting containing a consciousness older than time itself. Like a sleeper beset with sleep paralysis the chained oblivion thrashes against a reality it can only barely perceive, sending shockwaves of destruction across the cosmos.

While scholars of all worlds debate the true origins and nature of Tharizdun they can agree on two things:

It is more powerful than all the pantheons of creation, and it is terrified.

Inspiration: I wasn't originally going to do a whole monsters reimagined on Tharizdun, instead simply gesturing on what Matt Mercer has done with the deity (using the roiling chaos as a throughline for much of his Exandrian worldbuilding) and leaving it at that.

Around the same time I got this ask though I was considering doing my own take on Azathoth, the so called "blind idiot god" of the lovecraft mythos, inspiration struck and I decided to alloy the two concepts into what I think is a stronger whole. There's a lot of overlap in the two formless horrors, partly due to Tharizdun being a d&d's attempt to dip its toe into eldritch horror, without quite understanding the thematic framework involved.

Like many other things ( Minorities, the sea, decay, air conditioning) Lovecraft was terrified of objective reality. This might sound like a joke, but fundamental to his mythos is the fear that earth and the white men that lived upon it were not the centre of the universe created by a loving god. Lovecraft lived in increasingly scientific times and the science supported the idea of a universe in which humanity's existence was the meaningless product of random chance. Azathoth was this anxiety embodied in its most extreme scale: the capital G god of the universe which sat in the middle of all creation that was not only uncaring towards humanity (as many of Lovecraft's creations were) but the embodiment of ultimate unthinking chaos.

Trying to port Azathoth (and most of the other lovecrafitan pantheon) doesn't work because the conceits of the genre fundamentally clash. D&D DOES propose a moral universe, and goes out of its way to simplify morality down to such a cartoonish level that it has objective answers. In Lovecraft the horror comes from the fact that the cultists and their fucked up alien gods exist, where as the moral christian god doesn't... in d&d there's no reason for the cultists to worship the fucked up alien gods because the regular gods are both existent and quite nice.

The default d&d cosmology has multiple infinite voids of chaos including limbo, the abyss, and the far realm. I've already given my take on one of these, but I wanted an alternative for the origins of the weird that wasn't specifically focused on entropic decay.

There's a fascinating (and very depressing) history over the term hysteria and the connotations of mental crisis with feminine fragility. The word itself comes from the greek word for womb and there's something about the idea of "primal birthing chaos" that's worth playing with insofar as it makes weird rightoids Jordan Peterson deeply afraid.

Taking these thoughts as well as my earlier gripes in mind, its going to take a bit of an overhaul to make Tharizdun/Azathoth as a credible antagonistic force for a campaign. Also, this might be my own bias as an author showing through here but I don't go in for the lovecrafitan "truths too terrible to be understood". I think the universe is a fundamentally knowable place and if things exist outside our means of perceiving them then we'll just bullrush through and work out a temporary explanation on our way.

Here's my Fix/Pitch: Both Tharizdun and Azathoth are supposed to represent primordial chaos and formless madness. D&D's less than stellar history with mental health issues aside, we know that "madness" isn't evil and it isn't the antithetical opposite of order: It's flawed reason, it's an inability to comprehend, and it's deeply scary for those going through it.

THAT ended up reminding me of a famous quote from lovecraft himself; "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown".

What if we make THAT FEAR into the god? Imagine the panicked sensation of being woken from the deepest slumber by a sudden noise, the door opening or a loud bang going off somewhere on your street..... the phantom horror of something touching you, crawling over you in the middle of the night before you have any of your senses or reason or memory to tell you that it's just your partner or your pet or your own bed sheets. That's the stuff sleep paralysis is made of and it's been haunting us humans since the dawn of time. It's also the same horror of being born, of being a non-thing and then coming into existence in fits and starts without any understanding of the world that you're now

Now imagine there's something out there in the astral sea, the plane of dreams and thoughts... powerful beyond all imagining but created without the ability to ever fully wake up. It is stuck in that first moment of existence because it may well have been the first thing to ever exist and it's been trapped in the shapeless nightmare of an infant since the dawn of time

THAT is how you make a god about the horror of the unknown. A god that is antagonistic to us because it is sacred of us, and it is scared because it has no way of knowing us, knowing the reality it inhabits beyond its own fear.

Adventure Hooks:

The greatest threat Tharizdun presents to most beings in the universe is having a nightmare about them. Through the inexplicable paths of sleep an individual's mind may find themselves connected to the entity's own... receiving terrible visions as the thinking clouds of Tharizdun's body churn in a variable brainstorm. Some aspect of this communion will be twisted into something terrible, birthed into the cosmos with the same shrieking fear and confusion that inspired its creation. Some desperate few seek out this communion, thinking in their hubris that they can give shape to Tharizdun's creation, that the terror beyond time suffers collaborators or requests. (Yes, I'm yoinking the dream-spawning ability of beholders. They were already weird enough before they started getting involved with dream stuff)

Despite being a living entity, Tharizdun is also a place, a plane unto itself streaking through the multiverse like a collossal ameoba through the primordial soup. There are landscapes within the god, whole continents that form and erode through seasons of surreality as the paroxyc titan dreams them into being. One can create portals into these landscapes, even fly a jammership across them, but the act of doing so invites an even more chaotic backlash than visiting the chained oblivion in dreams, letting its terror leak out into the waking worlds.

The name "chained oblivion" dates back to an eon when forces of celestial order attempted to keep Tharizdun contained in the hopes of preventing the escape of its creations or its contact with other minds. This period of the multiverse oft refereed to as the "Time of Quiet" sadly came to an end when the entity's bindings were shattered by a collective of villains and horrors today refereed to as the "Court of Fools" or "Troupe of the Final Void". The Troupe are a motley bunch, unable to agree on a theology but all wanting to pick at the slumbering titan like it was a scab on the skin of heaven. Some serenade Tharzidun with cacophonous music, others hurl saints and sacrifices into its body, some worship or hunt the god's offspring while others stab it with cosmic pokers, just to get a reaction. They want to wake the chained oblivion and don't care how much of the multiverse they have to burn to do it.

Like a mollusc producing pearls as a means of containing an irritating bit of grit, Tharizdun's roiling cosmic body will occasionally spit out an entire world or strange demiplanes as a means of dislodging something it could not pallet. While this has been the genesis of many realms both beautiful and terrible throughout the astral timeline, of late all these worlds worth taking have been colonized by the Troupe. Woe and pity to any mortal who calls such a world home, ruled over by tyrants who care only for destruction, unaware of a cosmos not coloured by Tharizdun's wake.

Titles: The chained oblivion, the spiraling titan, sire of stars, the Paroxsmal god, Lord of all Hysterics.

Signs: Stormclouds that look oily and churn with otherworldly light, formless nightmares and pervasive sleep paralysis, mass delusion, darkness that echoes with the god's muttering and the sound of distant flutes.

Worshippers: Ad hoc worship of Tharizdun tends to congregate around those who have received unwanted visions of the chained oblivion, as the harrowing experiance often bestows those that suffer it with an otherworldy weight to their words, to say nothing of occasional psychic powers. Many abberations likewise pay heed to the chained oblivion, either for directly giving them life or for its great and insuppressable power. Among these include Grell who refer to Tharizdun as "storm mother", The nightmarish Quori follow in the wake of the god's psychic emanations and make up a large faction of the court of fools, and the Kaorti, terrifying mage-things remade by exposure to the spiralling titan's heart who claim to be heralds for the entity.

Art

#monsters reimagined #outergod #tharizdun #lovecraftian #outer spheres #astral #kaorti #quori #far realm #planescape #spelljammer

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krushedstars · 23 days

Text

PAWNS IN THE COSMOS

‧₊˚ ┊synopsis ... in a world where your soulmate is chosen by you, you wanted to be sure you would be happy as you delve into the complex webs of love.

‧₊˚ ┊fandom ... jujutsu kaisen. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ ft. ... geto x gn!reader, gojo x gn!reader. ‧₊˚ ┊au! ... soulmates, college. ‧₊˚ ┊genre ... one-shot. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ content ... fluff, angst. ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ word count ... 5.1k. ‧₊˚ ┊cole's note ... yes, the uni bits were based on my personal experience, ignore that and enjoy ur reading ♡

How is a person defined?

Of course we can delve into personality tangents and unique character traits that only each of us possesses in a perfect combination of stars and magic. However, this alone is not enough. A person is created by more than mere looks and personality; there are dreams, each person's own ways, unique hearts that shine with specific colors conceived by each thought, each action, each desire.

A single personality is not enough to define a person – and all the gods knew this. And as such, a new system was created.

Numbers.

What else to define a person than the infinity of numbers that made up the universe?

All human beings were born marked with simple numbers that dictated their souls; from zero to infinity, passing through the infinities of decimals that each one had for having managed to acquire a body in that new world.

Stuck on the back of their necks, hidden by occasional hair and various clothes, the numbers became something sacred in that society; not only was it something that defined a person, that made them unique, but they were also the main factor in relationships and connections. The thing is, bored with the eternity of cosmic lives, the gods liked to create small games that helped them in the static passage of time – and what more exciting than guiding the various lost souls to their better half?

A soulmate was something primordial.

Created long before the first star was born, soulmates roamed the world hand in hand, their stardust unique to each pair created by the various gods. They were essences without bodies, united only by cosmic dust that insisted on cradling them in the eternities of time and space in the universe. However, just star and cosmic dust was something monotonous, without any substance of its own, without a body of its own that made everything much easier to see, to be marveled at.

Thus, the first humans were created.

A connection that was only felt by the universe, beautified by the stars and constellations that they made their homes, was now something tangible, something that could be seen, something that could be admired. And, since then, relationships began to blossom in the world according to the seasons, making all the love that was felt to be the cause of all the misfortunes and happiness in the world.

Every year, small letters with a specific number and initials appeared on the bedside tables of thousands of people, a hint to eternal happiness appearing in black tones on a white background.

For years, humans followed their cards, creating happy and fulfilled lives for centuries, never once contesting the appearance of neither their cards nor their veracity; the gods commanded, the humans followed.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

“What?”

Gojo placed his apple juice on the table and looked at his friend, intrigued by the numbers he recited so naturally.

“It’s their number.”

“Their?” Gojo raised an eyebrow and let out a small pretentious smile, knowing perfectly well who Geto was talking about.

“Their. I saw it yesterday when they got off the bus. It was very brief, but I'm sure that was the number.”

“And what do you intend to do with this life-changing information?”

Geto looked at Gojo for the first time since they sat at the bar table. A smile played on the brunette's lips, his dark eyes shining with the possibilities that danced in his mind.

He leaned forward, his chest almost touching the plate with his sandwich and, in a whisper too low for such a noisy space, Geto spoke in a soft and quite convinced voice.

“Write down this number and compare it to the one on my card.”

“Have you received your card yet?”

Gojo's question came out automatically, a trace of nervousness clinging to the various syllables, his blue eyes widening behind his sunglasses.

“Not yet,” Geto sighed and resumed his starting position, playing with some loose crumbs from his sandwich. “But I believe it’s coming soon. I don’t know how to explain it, but every time I look at them…”

The words that were going to come out of Geto died in his mouth without having a chance to see the light of day. Taken by a mystical force, a chance written by the cosmos, Geto raised his face at the exact moment you entered the bar.

You looked beautiful that day.

Favored by the beauty of that day, the sun's rays painted your smile golden; your eyes shone with the light of new experiences, your words sounding as delicate as the breeze that day.

You entered the bar without any worries, your laugh filling the space with the delicacy of its sound. You were with your group of friends, looking for a free table in that crowded bar for you to have lunch before your afternoon class. Your eyes scanned the compartment with some hope, a smile lingering on your lips after a joke from your best friend.

And then you noticed. In all that confusion, oblivious to your friends' conversations, too focused on finding a place to sit, you saw Geto looking at you. Static, without any thought beyond his eyes, without any reaction when you approached him, your smile expanding with each step you took.

“Hello,” you stopped behind Gojo, one of your hands resting on his chair as your eyes jumped from Geto to Gojo. “Ready for the test?”

Gojo put his hands on his head, ruffling some of his silky hair as he let out a small growl, which made you laugh. And what a laugh. What a melody sung by your lips that seemed to fill the entire bar, drowning out every sound that appeared there.

“I spent the night studying, but I couldn’t memorize anything,” Gojo's outburst was accompanied by a tired sigh, his body leaning back against the chair, making you let go of it. “I don’t think even a miracle could save me.”

“Think of it like this,” you walked to the side of the table, Geto and Gojo on your sides, your group of friends in front of you waiting for you. “It’s about the Bible. Jesus will be with you.”

Gojo gave you a small frown and picked up his apple juice again, giving Geto a little kick under the table.

“And you? Are you ready?” Geto spoke finally, holding his sandwich and taking a small bite as he waited for your response.

“What helps me is being able to take the Bible with me,” you confessed between smiles and winks. “But I’m confident. Our presentation actually went well.”

“The teacher liked it,” Geto set down his sandwich and looked at you. “I think we even make a good team.”

“And I wouldn’t give anything for you two,” you smiled as you gently ruffled Gojo’s hair. “Well, I'm going now. See you later.”

Geto followed you with his gaze out of the bar, the way your body walked excitedly towards your friends, the way your smile didn't leave your lips for a single second.

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.” Geto repeated it again under his breath, his eyes still fixed on the bar door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“I can’t believe the teacher gave us more work,” Geto grunted, storming into his room. “Where do you want to start?”

He placed his Bible on the desk, throwing his backpack onto the bed. Gojo followed in his footsteps, throwing the book on the bed and placing the backpack on the floor, opening it immediately with a sigh.

“We can start with the document the teacher gave us…” Gojo’s voice was full of doubts and uncertainties, his hands frantically searching his backpack for his notebook. “We can read it and go from there.”

Geto didn't say anything.

Sitting down at the desk, the brunette turned on his computer and waited a few moments until his desktop began to glow in shades of blue and silver. “You start with the document and I’ll look for which books we need to study.”

Gojo nodded and, after making himself comfortable on his best friend's bed, he began to dive into the waves of knowledge in the document, reading and rereading concepts and terms, looking for something in the various lines of ink that could help him in his new work.

Geto, in turn, opened the web page, typing a few words before spending minutes opening and closing tabs, desperately looking for help. Beside him, the Bible was open, several sheets of papers and memory aids reminding Geto which books he needed to highlight and look deeper into.

Shrouded in stories and theories, the two friends didn't notice as the hours passed; Too focused on their work, taking some notes and highlighting the most important thing, Geto and Gojo disconnected from the outside world, believing that, the sooner they finished that work, the sooner they would free themselves from the academic responsibilities that gave them so many headaches.

The sun was slowly setting.

From Geto's bedroom window, the various street lamps began to shine with the certainty that a long night was approaching; cars and people retired to their homes at the end of a long day of work and in the sky, between the soft clouds and the dark blue expanse, several stars made their way to the earth, telling in their death endless stories of past memories and lives lived.

Geto stretched out in his chair. Putting down the computer mouse for a moment and looking away from the screen for the first time since he got home, Geto felt tired. Totally devastated by a complicated day in his life: the Classical Texts exam had gone wrong, no matter how many prayers were in the Bible, he knew that his grade would go down; the teacher, at the end of the exam, gave his students one last assignment in a week full of exams and presentations; and, to end the last ray of hope in Geto, that day had been another day in which he was unable to do anything other than admire you.

It had been almost two years, but Geto had simply withdrawn into a bubble of shyness that prevented him from functioning decently in front of you. He didn't understand why, but you had a power over him; like a spell, an enchantment that prevented him from functioning normally in your presence. It all happened so fast, he didn't even remember the first time he succumbed to your charms, but, once consumed by your unique, cosmic essence, he found himself trapped in a web of emotions that prevented him from leaving.

But now was not the time to dwell on you. Now Geto had an obligation to fulfill and, as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that his responsibility as a student had to be pleased.

“Do you want to order food?”

Gojo straightened up in bed, putting his pencil behind his ear, adjusting his sunglasses on his head. “I’m not very hungry…”

“But we need to eat,” Geto stood up with a small grunt, walking away from the desk and grabbing his cell phone. “I'm going to order some food and I'll take the opportunity to call Shoko to ask her for the texts for tomorrow.”

Gojo didn't answer him.

With tired eyes and a yawn trapped in his mouth, Gojo saw his best friend leaving the room, making the room plunge into serene silence.

Tired of studying, feeling a strong pain in his back, Gojo fell onto the bed, taking out his cell phone and starting to explore the digital world while waiting for Geto to return.

Gojo was freely lost among images and videos, reading loose sentences without any context, finding a bit of tranquility in the mess of others; Gojo's slender fingers moved across the screen with ease, clicking on images and links, allowing him to sink into a little peace before returning to work.

But no matter how involved he was in the digital world, that didn't stop Gojo from listening.

It was a faint, low sound, like the turning of a page; it was brief, lasting only a second, something too small to be noticed; but Gojo noticed, Gojo realized that something had happened, and when he sat back down on the bed and looked at Geto's desk, he saw it.

A small, white card rested gently on the wooden surface. It was thin, almost invisible from Gojo's point of view, but those dark letters, that black that adorned the card left no room for doubt: Geto had just received his card.

Gojo leaned forward, looking closely at the initials and numbers written on the card.

There was silence.

A dark silence took over Geto's room, leaning into every corner, refusing to leave through the door that Geto had left open. The shadows in the room seemed thicker at that moment, gaining a bit of dimension when seen from the corner of Gojo's eye; it seemed like they were watching him, trying to keep Gojo's actions in their dark corners, silently judging everything Gojo did, everything he thought.

But Gojo continued to look at the card, memorizing the initials and numbers, repeating them in his mind over and over again. Until he heard Geto's voice approaching the room and he let the shadows keep the secret he had just made.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Geto was at the bus stop patiently waiting. Letting the sun warm him through the bus stop window, Geto faced the road with a smile on his lips.

Seeing students and teachers walking up and down the street, hearing the happy birdsong and feeling the cool breeze of the day on his face, Geto couldn't be happier at that moment. That day, it seemed as if the whole world had gained a new color, a new meaning, as if all the stars that made up the universe had arranged themselves especially to link Geto's path.

He was certain that in that day nothing would destroy his enthusiasm. Not when he held tightly to a small white card and waited patiently for a bus to arrive, for you to arrive.

It had been mere minutes since Geto arrived at the stop to see your bus arriving punctually at your building. Keeping all the enthusiasm he was feeling in a small box inside his heart, Geto approached you when you got off the platform, ready for another day of classes.

“Good morning!”

“Oh, good morning, Geto,” your smile painted constellations, illuminating the entire universe with a simple curve of affection and delicacy. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Eighty-three million, two hundred and twenty thousand, six hundred and seventy-four point one hundred and ninety-three.”

You stopped walking and looked seriously at your classmate. Confused by why those numbers were recited so passionately, you waited for Geto to continue his reasoning. Looking closely at Geto, you couldn't help but let out a small smile; there was something about his childish enthusiasm, his cosmic joy that made you feel at least the slightest bit comfortable.

“It’s your number, isn’t it?”

“And how do you know my number?” your smile had taken on a playful tone, not realizing where that conversation would lead you, or why he was having it with you at that moment. As such, and as always, you just waited.

“Because they gave me that number yesterday.”

Geto handed you the small card he kept in his hand. Curious about his words, you looked at that white piece of paper, seeing your number and initials in dark tones.

Y/N 83220674,193

You remained silent for a moment while you assimilated all that information.

In reality, you hadn't received your card yet, but you didn't care. In so many years of life, you have never had the need to get together with someone, to let the gods guide your destiny with a mere card; but that didn't mean you weren't expecting it. You were never a romantic by nature, avoiding cliché films and closing the books when the couple began to express their eternal love for each other; but that didn't mean you didn't want that magic for yourself.

The reality is that throughout your life you have had to worry about something more than the triviality that was love. From friendships to school, your entire life was made up of obstacles that prevented you from delving into the complex webs of romantic relationships that could have been.

But there it was. A card. Your number. Your initials. There was no denying it – Geto’s soulmate was you.

Still trapped in those complex numbers and the beautiful initials carved into the white of the card, your mind began to wander to a future that could exist, leaving you speechless, completely surrendered to the surprise of the event.

“You seem excited about that idea,” not knowing how to respond, not knowing how to act after that revelation, you tried to focus your attention on Geto, starting to walk into the building with your colleague always by your side.

“Just happy for the confirmation.”

“Confirmation?” You looked at Geto confused and he just smiled before opening the door to the building for you.

“I always knew it was you.”

You gave a small laugh that gently echoed through the interior of the building. “What made you so sure?”

“That’s what I felt.” Geto let a sigh escape him, his lips expanding more and more into the victorious smile he wore. “Since the first day I saw you.”

You looked curiously at Geto as you climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“I can't explain it to you, but from the first day I saw you, I felt something inside me change. It's hard to explain, but it's as if the forces of the universe were pulling me towards you. Many times, without meaning to, I was already looking at you and wondering how I could talk to you.”

Geto's words traveled seamlessly to your ears, collecting all the celestial magic they could grab along the way. Geto's confession appeared wrapped in the stardust of the sky that sheltered you, leaving you to smile shyly at your colleague's frankness.

Would it be true? All the words Geto said seemed too whimsical to be real, his honesty appearing like a small butterfly on warmer days, flapping its wings and simplicity with the lightness of someone who didn't care about what he said.

“Very well,” you said finally, opening the door to the classroom and giving Geto space to enter. “And what do you intend to do with this new information?”

“For starters,” smiled Geto, leaning against one of the desks, the one where you always sat, and putting his hands in his pants pockets, “I’m going to ask you out on a date.”

“What if I say no?”

You sat in your seat, placing your backpack on the table and looking at Geto with amusement.

“I will invite you until you say yes.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You wouldn't go as far as to say you were in love, but the truth was you felt something.

You would never think that agreeing to go out with Geto would bring you the avalanche of feelings that you started to feel. There was something about him. Something that moved you, that managed to reach your core and comfort your heart as if it were a blanket. You couldn't explain what it was, you couldn't explain what it was like, you just felt it. And it was something so unique and unusual that it consumed you every time you were with Geto.

Since the day you agreed to go out with him, your whole world seemed to have changed.

“Explain something to me,” Geto stretched as he sat in the chair. Leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, he stared at you, eyes so bright and passionate that he made you feel important.

“What?”

“What do I need to do so I can be yours?”

You choked on the water. The words that Geto said hadn't crossed your mind, taking you by surprise.

You coughed once, twice, three times, placed the glass of water on the table and looked at Geto, your eyes still shining with the tears that had formed seconds ago.

“What?”

“I just want to know,” his smile was infectious. Whenever Geto looked at you, he smiled, a smile that spread across his face and made him more beautiful, more brilliant, as if that curve of his lips were the only detail about him. “We have already gone on several dates. We already know each other well. What is missing?"

You stared at Geto.

In fact, you felt something every time you were with Geto, your heart growing warmer with each moment shared with him. But that something was indescribable, you couldn't understand the nature of that something. What was it? How had it come about? Why did it torment you so much every time you were with Geto?

Yes. You could ignore it. Just take yourself in the comfort of that feeling, and allow yourself to enjoy a little of the tranquility that that feeling offered you. But there was something about that feeling, there was something that made you feel nervous. Maybe it was because you were happy and it had been years since you last felt so carefree and light; maybe it was because you couldn't explain what you felt, the lack of words and descriptions leaving you delirious. You didn't know exactly what it was. You just knew you weren't ready.

“I'm waiting,” you let out a small smile, looking at the water in the glass and thinking deeply about that something attacking your heart. What was that?

“For a formal request?” Geto let out a small laugh, so beautiful and melodious that it made the authenticity of your smile change tones, the small line becoming more real with that laugh. “I can kneel here right now and ask you to be yours.”

“No,” now it was you who laughed, holding Geto's hands when he made a move to get up. “Don’t you dare!”

“So what do you want? Tell me and I’ll give you anything.”

“My card.”

You whispered your confession a little nervously, letting your voice get lost in the university bar.

Geto looked at you, the smile that beautified him so much gently fading as he thought and repeated your words in his mind. Your card. Your card? Why were you waiting for something you already knew? What did you want to find in your white piece? Why was confirming a number so important to you? Didn't you feel your connection? Didn't you feel how your souls were interconnected for generations and eras, your essence existing on the same star before inhabiting the human bodies that held you back from expressing your true love?

“Why?”

Geto's voice had changed tone. Before playful, sprinkled with passion and affection, it was now serious, monotonous, without any feeling attached to the intonation of the syllables.

“Just…” you continued to stare at the glass of water, too embarrassed by your whim, thinking that your request was a betrayal for Geto. “I just want to be sure.”

Geto looked at you without showing any emotion. His bright eyes were now opaque, focused on your figure, studying your posture; his lips were in a straight line, too tense from the conversation to be able to express a mere smile.

Finally, he took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and putting his hands in his coat pockets.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll wait.”

Geto's words gently lifted your chin, finally looking at him, seeing a small, shy smile on his lips, filled with a small sadness, wrapped in understanding.

“Tell me your number.”

“Sixty-nine point zero, one, six, zero.”

“…six, zero,” Geto’s number was now saved on your cell phone. You were smiling, believing that that exchange of numbers could be the last drop to fill the glass of your doubts – it had to be him, you felt it.

Geto got up from his chair, smiling and offering you his hand.

You put your cell phone away and held Geto's hand, feeling his warm, thin fingers intertwine with yours, gently pulling you out of the bar and taking you through the city's flowery paths to your house.

Saying goodbye with a kiss on your forehead, Geto watched you enter your home, the smile he still wore being painted with love and complete devotion – how he loved you.

You sighed when you entered the house. You were tired. Classes were becoming increasingly demanding and, with the semester almost over, the pressure only increased.

You placed your hands on your shoulders and pressed down hard as you walked to your room. Your back was burning, a fog of anxiety was clouding your mind, your feet were asking for a moment of rest.

You threw yourself onto the bed, leaving your backpack at the bedroom door. You were exhausted, you couldn't even open your eyes. Ready to get some sleep before studying, you took your cell phone out of your pants pocket and placed it on the bedside table next to the white card.

The white card.

As if pinching you with electricity, the card woke you up to reality. You quickly sat down on the bed, holding that piece of paper in your hands. Finally the confirmation, finally the key to your happiness.

S.G.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━❀━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You abruptly pulled Gojo into an empty room. After closing the door with some force, you faced your friend who looked at you confused and a little worried.

“What…”

“You should have told me.”

You cut Gojo's words without any difficulty, throwing your card at Gojo, he fumbling to catch the lightness of the paper.

You were upset, completely furious. Your heart pounded with the knowledge of that betrayal, forcing you to look at Gojo with angry eyes and trembling lips.

“What happe…”

“Look at the card,” you didn’t want to shout at Gojo, it wasn’t in your nature to speak loudly to other people, but at that moment, totally consumed by all the emotions that arose in your heart, you couldn’t control your tone of voice, your words coming out louder than intended. “Look at the card and explain to me why you didn’t tell me!”

Gojo's blue eyes looked at you nervously, the glow that embellished them giving them a fear that was completely unknown to him. It took a while. He was still assimilating your words, repeating them in his head, trying to understand what you specifically meant. But, when all the dots connected, when your anger became justifiable and the card essential, Gojo quickly looked at the card, letting out a small curse when he saw the initials and numbers that adorned the white piece of paper.

S.G. 2430.1872

“I can explain…”

“I don't believe it. It is really you! You switched the cards!”

You let out a fake laugh, turning your body to face the door in an attempt to calm down. After taking a deep breath once, twice, three times, you looked back at Gojo, who now had a look of determination that didn't match your conversation.

“He loves you.”

“He’s not my soulmate,” you couldn’t explain, but your eyes started to water. Anger? Despair? Betrayal? What emotion did you seek from the turbulent sea that shook your heart to make you want to cry?

“That doesn’t invalidate the fact that he loves you.”

You shook your head, your lips forming a fake, angry smile, painted with the turmoil that existed in your heart. “You know perfectly well it does.”

“Listen,” Gojo approached you, the card held in one of his hands, his sunglasses almost falling off his head. “You like him. It's noticeable! The way you look at him, the way you shine when you're with him. You…"

“No!” you shouted without realizing it, snatching the card from Gojo's hand and waving it in front of his eyes. “You are my soulmate. It's you I have to stay with. You are the one I have to love.”

“No. No! No!” now Gojo was also shouting, desperate to make himself heard, wanting to explain himself at all costs. “You don’t have to keep yours…”

“You know perfectly well what happens to those who don’t stay with their soulmate.” Sadness. Hurt. Suffering. Grief. Years of pure despair. Years of nothing but anguish. “Do you really want him to be like that? Consumed by the negativity of the universe?”

“How,” Gojo laughed, a little insane with your argument, taking his hands to his head and taking off the glasses that made him feel weird. “How is he going to be unhappy if he has loved you since the first day you met?”

“Feelings come and go,” your tone returned to normal, your gaze now trapping Gojo in a box with no escape, your conversation turning from despair to frustration. “He wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Gojo looked at you furious with your deaf ears. You looked at Gojo irritated by his empty words.

The door opened.

Geto entered.

“I heard screams… Is everything okay?”

Geto's eyes jumped from you to Gojo. He was confused, he didn't understand why you were alone in an empty room screaming. On the other side of the door, Geto hadn't been able to understand the nature of your argument, but now looking at you, he knew it was something serious.

“Tell him.” Your eyes finally got tired, the first tear sliding easily down your face, taking with it a bit of the sadness of reality. “Tell him, Gojo.”

“Tell me what?”

Now Geto started to get nervous. What had happened between the two of you to create such a tense atmosphere? How did the two of you, the ones who were always joking with each other, the ones who knew nothing more than laughter and smiles, how did the two of you end up screaming and crying?

“Tell him how I will never be happy with him because I am destined to love you.”

ㅤㅤ‧₊˚ feedback is appreciated ♡

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codo17 · 1 month

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Stars Aligned

**I was inspired by the solar eclipse. It was my first time and probably last time experiencing it and it was everything! This is my first story so I hope you like it. English is not my first language so please do correct me if there's anything wrong. <3**

-> ~750 word

-> fluff

Today, April 8th, 2024, was destined to be a day etched into the tapestry of your shared history—a moment of cosmic significance that stirred excitement across North America. But for you and Jessie, it wasn't just about witnessing a total solar eclipse; it was about experiencing it together, sharing a bond that transcended mere scientific curiosity.

Since childhood, the mysteries of the cosmos had held you captive. From your early days crafting makeshift telescopes to the late-night stargazing sessions, there was an undeniable pull toward the heavens above. The infinite knowledge contained within trillions of light-years had always filled you with a sense of wonder and awe, making you feel simultaneously insignificant and connected to something greater than yourself.

Of course, you'd always dreamed of finding someone with whom you could share this passion—a kindred spirit who would listen to your ramblings about the Andromeda Galaxy and the Kuiper Belt with genuine interest. Someone who gave you the same heart palpitations and goofy smile that perseids did. And then, Jessie entered your orbit—a radiant burst of light in your universe.

Meeting during your college days at UCLA, she defied engineering student stereotypes with her intelligence, charm, and warmth. There was an instant connection, a gravitational pull drawing you together like celestial bodies in motion. You bonded over shared interests in Tim Horton's, Sidney Crosby, sustainable farming, and football, finding comfort and joy in each other's company.

As your friendship with Jessie blossomed into love, it felt like discovering a new constellation—a beautiful alignment of hearts and minds. Study sessions transformed into late nights spent under the star-studded sky, fingers entwined as you traced the paths of shooting stars, sharing dreams and fears in the quiet darkness.

Seven years had passed since those early days, but the magic between you remained as potent as ever. Jessie's beauty wasn't just in her freckled face or twinkling brown eyes; it was in the way she laughed, the way she listened, the way she made you feel like you were the center of her universe.

As the solar eclipse approached, you couldn't imagine experiencing it with anyone but Jessie. Together, you made plans to witness the celestial spectacle—a rare moment of cosmic harmony that promised to be nothing short of breathtaking.

Standing side by side, the air crackled with anticipation as the moon began its slow dance across the sun's fiery surface. Jessie's hand found yours in the darkness, fingers intertwining as you both watched in awe.

"It's incredible," Jessie whispered, her voice barely audible above the thrum of excitement. You stole a glance at her, struck once again by her beauty and the depth of her gaze.

Your heart swelled with emotion as you watched the eclipse unfold, feeling a sense of wonder and insignificance wash over you. It was as if the universe had paused just for the two of you, a moment of perfect alignment in an otherwise chaotic world.

As the eclipse reached its peak, you turned to Jessie, her face illuminated by the otherworldly glow. "I feel so small but so in sync with the whole Universe at the same time... I don't know how to describe it, it's just uniquely perfect."

Jessie nodded, her eyes reflecting the fading remnants of the eclipse. "It's like we're a tiny part of something so much bigger, yet connected to it in a way that's hard to put into words."

"I think you've said it all," you replied, grateful for her understanding.

As the eclipse waned and the world returned to normal, you felt a surge of love and gratitude for the woman by your side. Cupping her face in your hands, you leaned in to press a tender kiss to her lips, savoring the warmth and sweetness of the moment.

"I love you so much, Jessie," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

Jessie's cheeks flushed with emotion as she met your gaze. "I love you too, as big as the whole world, y/n." She wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close in a tight embrace.

And in that moment, as the last traces of the eclipse faded into the sky, you knew that your love for each other was as boundless as the universe itself. With Jessie by your side, you felt ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold, knowing that together, you could weather any storm.

As you both basked in the afterglow of the eclipse, the sky gradually regained its familiar hue, and the world resumed its normal rhythm. But the experience had left an indelible mark on your hearts, strengthening the bond between you in ways words could never fully capture.

#jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming #woso #canwnt #portland thorns #chelsea women

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wishing-fieshes · 14 days

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okay, i have been gone for too long but i have a newfound obsession on vil schoenheit.

my thoughts about him in general:

in the sovereign state of elegance and beauty, schoenheit reigns supreme, a celestial being adorned in the fabric of dreams. with each graceful gesture, he weaves a tapestry of enchantment, his movements a symphony of fluidity and grace, a ballet of serenity upon life’s grand stage.

cloaked in garments that whisper tales of opulence and splendor, vil is a vision of sartorial perfection, his attire a canvas upon which the gods themselves have painted their finest masterpiece. from the sweeping lines of his regal coat to the delicate embroidery that adorns his silken shirts, every thread is spun with the essence of divine craftsmanship, enhancing the celestial beauty that is himself.

as the housewarden of pomefiore, his presence exudes an aura of quiet authority, a magnetic pull that draws others to him like stars to the night sky. with a gaze as deep and beguiling as the cosmos itself, his eyes hold the secrets of the universe, each glance a journey into the depths of eternity.

and his lips, plump and pink like petals kissed by the morning dew, they speak of passion and desire, of love unspoken and dreams untold. with each word that falls from them, he weaves a spell of enchantment, his voice a melody that echoes through the corridors of time.

in every aspect of his being, he is a testament to the beauty that lies within us all, a beacon of light in a world shrouded in darkness. to know him is to dance with destiny, to embrace the sublime beauty that resides in the hearts of all who dare to dream. and as he moves through life with the grace of a being no comparable, he leaves in his wake a trail of wonder and awe, a legacy of beauty that will endure for all eternity.

the book mentions where he was furious:

whenever anger graces his visage, it’s as if the very essence of storm and flame converge in a tempest of beauty. his eyes, usually pools of serenity, now alight with fiery passion, pierce through the tumult with an intensity that rivals thunder’s roar.

each furrowed brow and clenched jawline tells a tale of power restrained, a tempest contained within the confines of a porcelain mask. yet, amidst the chaos, there remains a haunting elegance, a regal defiance that commands attention and reverence.

like a tempestuous symphony conducted by fate’s hand, his beauty in anger is a paradoxical dance of light and shadow, captivating all who dare to behold its mesmerizing splendor.

his adoring purple eyes, usually pools of captivating allure, now glint with an intensity born of simmering fury. within their depths, a tempest rages, swirling with unspoken words and suppressed emotions, veiled behind a facade of regal composure. yet, even in moments of seething rage, there remains a haunting allure to his gaze, drawing admirers in with a magnetic pull that defies explanation.

as the storm within him brews, the contrast of his radiant exterior and the silent turmoil beneath creates an aura of enigmatic beauty, a tapestry of contradictions woven with threads of gold and amethyst. and in the quiet intensity of his gaze, one cannot help but be ensnared by the mesmerizing allure of vil schoenheit, even as the tempest within threatens to consume all in its path.

im practically busy but there’s no harm in admiring pretty boys

#would anyone interest themselves with looking by the poem i made for malleus?#vil has me on chokehold after he snapped due to the jealous hand he was held with neige #this is my perspective of him #twisted wonderland #twst fluff #twst imagines #twisted wonderland vil #vil schoenheit #twst #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland x reader

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silvergreenseraphim · 6 months

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Angeal and Sephiroth (And Genesis?)—Dissidia Opera Omnia—Part One

Alright, so this chapter was a lot, and it opened with Weiss quoting “Loveless” for a reason, it seems.

“When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end, the goddess descends from the sky! Wings of light and dark spread afar, she guides us to bliss…her gift everlasting!”

Weiss becomes our voice for Genesis, or his “brother,” in this chapter. When Seymour questions his quote, Weiss replies,

“It was a passage from a story our brother loved. He used to quote it for his best friend. That friend was Sephiroth, the hero and friend of the other “brother,” Angeal as well.”

This part was hard to translate into English, but Weiss essentially explains that Genesis used to quote Loveless for his close friend, Sephiroth, the hero, and Angeal was right there with them as the third friend in the trio.

Seymour is shocked and gasps, “Sephiroth and Angeal were best friends??”

Weiss replies, “It’s hard to believe of the now-evil “hero” that never reveals his heart. And yet, the exemplary First Class soldier that is a role model for everyone was his friend.”

I am on the fence about the translation of this part and may change it once my friend gets back to me, but for now, it seems like Weiss is pondering the friendship of Sephiroth and Angeal and how differently they turned out, because Seymour does make a comment like, “I suppose if you have dreams and honor, you can’t go wrong.”

But there is potentially more here that Weiss is saying about his own relationship to Sephiroth and Angeal—perhaps suggesting he is not their friend and doesn’t quite understand their past relationship himself. I will have to keep researching.

We cut to Sephiroth again, who is confused about his memory returning. He says he didn’t expect any memories to return from the Lifestream, but shakes his head and denial. He claims these memories Angeal brought back are unnecessary and that he most remove Angeal from the picture immediately. His motives are set.

Meanwhile, Zack and Angeal are talking about how Sephiroth changed. I translated this on Altocat’s blog and here is what they say:

Zack says,

“Angeal, I know you’re surprised…I can’t believe that Sephiroth changed like that…

Angeal replies,

“So, you were taken aback as well…”

Zack says,

“It was out of nowhere. We went to investigate Cloud and Tifa’s village…and I guess he discovered his origins. He killed everyone and burned down the village. He had always been the hero I strived to be…”

Zack and Angeal are both very crestfallen here, lamenting this knowledge. Angeal pulls himself together and says,

“I know…I’m disappointed too. Everything changed while I was gone, I guess.

Angeal further laments that he wasn’t there, and Zack reassures him that even though Angeal disappeared at the time and pushed everyone away, Zack would have stayed by his side and helped. Zack would have left Shinra, and he says he is sure Sephiroth felt the same way.

Angeal thanks his student but says that it was his choice and lonely path at the time—he had to carry the responsibility as a First Class soldier. Zack chastises him saying he shouldn’t think that way—after all, Zack is a First Class as well, and has enough experience. He could have helped Angeal. Angeal begins to reply, saying, “Zack…” but then they are interrupted by the others.

They say it’s time to make a decision about Sephiroth, and Cloud explains that the silver boi is planning to turn the world into an empty vessel that he may sail the cosmos with in order to find another world. An Advent Children reference, of course.

Rufus mentions that this goal is very similar to the desire of Jenova. He has to then explain what Jenova is to the other characters, as well as the Reunion theory.

This makes a lightbulb go off in Angeal’s head and he gasps, “So basically…Sephiroth is Jenova?”

He puts it together that Reunion implies that Jenova’s cells must be drawn back to their source, and since that source is currently Sephiroth, they must be the same.

However, the others simply say that Sephiroth/Jenova must be eliminated, and agree to hunt him down. Everyone nods and moves forward except Angeal, who lingers with hesitation.

In the next part, they are in the process of tracking Sephiroth, but the group notices Angeal’s troubled demeanor. They ask him if he’s okay and Kadaj says that he heard about Sephiroth being Angeal’s good friend. He says that it must be disheartening to see Sephiroth in his current state, since nothing is like it used to be.

Angeal notes Kadaj’s own tone of disappointment and Kadaj explains how Sephiroth used him as a puppet to find Jenova’s remains, which horrifies Kadaj because if Sephiroth and Jenova are the same, then his own “mother” used and betrayed him in such a way.

Angeal encourages Kadaj and gives him one of his classic pep talks, appealing to his usual “dreams and honor” code. Tifa notes that Zack often spoke the same way, prompting Angeal to recall teaching Zack all those things.

In response to Kadaj, he then says he was indeed surprised by hearing what Sephiroth did, but he says that,

“Sephiroth had his honor once too…and he has a tendency to hold onto things, so even if I am surprised, I can’t abandon him…”

The others say that they aren’t sure if Angeal’s words can reach Sephiroth, who was cruel enough to destroy Tifa and Cloud’s village. Tifa agrees as she recalls how she begged Sephiroth to explain why he did what he did, but she does say to Angeal that she believes he could have a better chance.

She kindly compliments him on how his “dreams and honor” philosophy had helped her as well. :,)

She encourages Angeal, saying that his words will surely be a beacon and that he should try to speak with Sephiroth again. Angeal hangs his head sorrowfully and agrees, saying,

“I don’t want to give up on him….so I’ll try as hard as I can…”

—

This is a good place to stop because the next chapters are where everything gets chaotic, but for now, we have some build-up for what Angeal wants to do, and for Weiss being a stand-in for Genesis later.

—

Some little notes:

The Zack and Angeal scenes were very sweet, as Zack wants to convince his old mentor to stop shouldering everything alone. Angeal’s absolute refusal to give up on Seph tugs at the heartstrings too, and I find it so sweet that Tifa actually encouraged him.

The “Sephiroth is Jenova” point is fascinating, but I believe we will soon find that Seph’s own will is blended into Jenova’s, as they are aligned, and this might be what reveals to Angeal that there may not be much hope for his old friend. :(

I am struggling with the Weiss and Seymour discussion, and this has been one of the parts that has slowed me down, because the context is hard to decipher, but I suspect that Weiss is comparing Sephiroth and Angeal to the figures in Loveless, which also becomes relevant later. I will update as soon as I can get an explanation from my Japanese friend. I am not skilled enough to decipher everything yet on my own, you see. 😅

But enjoy this for now, and I will be back with more soon! <3

#dissidia opera omnia #japanese translation #my translations #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sephiroth #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #weiss #kadaj #zack fair #tifa lockhart #cloud strife #jenova #rufus shinra

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