#middleaxis

                    『 𓆩🦁𓆪 』― It didn't always consume him—the nightmare. Some nights would pass in blissful silence, while others left him ensnared in the clutches of the same haunting vision, spiraling into chaos as he lost control of his magic. A dark, viscous goo seeped from his essence like dripping tar, thick and suffocating. In these moments of overblot, he felt himself drown in a torrent of anguish and pride, emotions he often struggled to rein in. 

                   All he yearned for was to matter, to be seen. Yet, despite pouring his heart and soul into every endeavor, his family barely comprehended his struggles, their recognition always skewed in favor of his brother. And then there was the nephew—a mere infant—who basked in the accolades that had eluded him throughout his life. The thought of being overshadowed by a child felt like a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of his own inadequacies.

                 It was a deeply unsettling thought to ponder, yet Leona couldn't shake the nagging conviction that had circumstances been different—had he received even a fraction of the love and affection he so desperately craved—he might have become someone entirely different. Instead, he felt destined to create the most ferocious sandstorm the school had ever witnessed, mirroring the turmoil within his heart. The tempest would engulf everything, leaving only a desolate expanse of ash in its wake—a physical manifestation of his inner chaos. 

              This wasn't merely about losing the tournament; it transcended the disappointment of dreams turning to smoke and the futility of plans unraveling. It was the crushing realization that, ultimately, none of it mattered. The hard truth loomed over him: he had failed to elevate his dorm to glory. As he stood there, swirling in despair, he couldn't help but wonder what they would think of him now—what whispers would follow him through the hallways, etching his shortcomings into the very fabric of their memories ?

             Hearing Ruggie’s desperate pleas to carry on, to continue believing in him, to cling to the idea that he deserved the title of friend, was maddening to him. The notion of being called a King felt absurd, a cruel joke in the midst of his turmoil. Each word Ruggie spoke only stoked the flames of his anger, deepening the chasm of their fractured bond.

             ❛ Friend ? ❜ a voice twisted by darkness seemed to echo in his mind, sending a chill down his spine as he recalled that haunting memory, a reminder of how foolish this all seemed. The way he had seized Ruggie, his grip firm and unyielding, was a stark contrast to the bond they once shared. The flicker of his magic crackled ominously in the air, aimed at the one person who had dared to see beyond the chaos he had caused. Ruggie had been his steadfast friend, offering support and kindness even in the darkest of times, yet here he was, wielding his power against the very person who had believed in him wholeheartedly. He could hear the anguished whispers of his struggle, the desperate crackling of his skin as it transformed, each fragile layer crumbling away like parched earth giving way to sand.

             ❛ No ! Stop ! ❜ his own voice thundered, cutting through the howling winds that whipped around them like a vengeful spirit, flinging gritty sand into their faces and leaving their throats parched. ❛ Stop ! Drop him ! This isn't what you want ! ❜ Leona felt an electric surge of determination coursing through him, propelling him forward as he lunged at his overblot self, throwing them both to the ground in a cloud of dust. In the chaos, he could hear Ruggie's voice slicing through the tumult, frantic and desperate, calling out his name, the urgency rising with each echo. With a fierce effort, he pushed his overblot away and turned toward Ruggie, seizing his arm with a grip that was both protective and reassuring.

          His eyes shot open wide, heart racing as he bolted upright on the couch. There, perched on the small coffee table beside him, was Ruggie, his figure silhouetted by the soft glow of the room. The tension in his body was palpable, ears perked up in alertness as he scanned the familiar surroundings. Without uttering a word, he instinctively reached for his friend's hand, ensuring the tangible presence was real, that it was still there. He could feel the weight of anxiety in his chest, his breaths quick and shallow. Eventually, a soft, reluctant sigh escaped him as he surrendered to the moment, flopping back down onto the couch. He covered his eyes with a trembling hand, grappling with the memories. ❛ Yeah… same dream, ❜ he murmured, the words heavy with unspoken fears.

✦ . ⠀⁺ 【 @middleaxis 】 ⁺ ⠀. ✦

╰ ★ cont. from 「 X 」

˗ˏˋ *⠀★⠀‿︵⠀˗ˏˋ⠀𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕. No matter what kind it was, a storm was STILL a storm. Even if they didn't fully understand the storm, they both had the shared idea of wanting to protect each other from it.

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤAs they pull out the brand - new raincoat, their face practically lit up. Now, with their new raincoat and her new umbrella, a dumb STORM could never get them !

⊱ ★ ⊰ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤ❛ㅤThis is GREAT, Vertin - san ! Thank you ! Now we can go out and play out in the rain and the storms for AS LONG AS WE WANT !ㅤ❜

@middleaxis ⤏ send me “plots please”… and I’ll respond with  3  (or more)  interesting  plots / relationships / connections  I can think of for our muses! 

|| MEDPOCKET -> THIS SHIT'S FUCKED EVEN BY MY STANDARDS .

have you ever seen those posts about program coders and how much of a stress headache and nightmare it can be to try to work off someone else's spaghetti code bullshit without annotations. i'd like to imagine that when/if parsifal ever came with the request to undo everything the alchemists did to him that medpocket would react about the same way. lemme be real, this is a useful dynamic because percy just about doesn't gaf what happens to himself anymore and therefore may or may not be willing to volunteer for all sorts of insane things medpocket wants to try on him, and like hell will medpocket ever let themself be outsmarted and outdone. if not the physical conditions then at least undoing the mental instability of the experimental serum would be a great relief, but until that's 'worked out' it's a great excuse for the two to end up stuck in each other's interactive spaces.

|| CHARLIE -> AND I , NOW AUDIENCE .

it's a given these two should interact somehow at some point tbh. charlie's younger by parsifal by a few years, so while he'd readily accept any role of theatrical involvement, cleanup, or critique (with of course perhaps a small, sad edge as he excuses and reduces himself to shadows during any legitimate performance,) he'd also grow very protective of charlie over time. he's not as socially anxious off-stage though he still remembers being much like charlie, timid but hopeful and ambitious when it came to theater. they're the tea party and stuffed animal duo; percy's the one double checking charlie's costume and adjusting anything last moment before offering a small smile and encouraging word. if you'd like, you could even have charlie recognize the magic flute troupe and its fiasco.

|| VERTIN -> SO FRAIL , SO STUBBORN .

@middleaxis

ABSOLUTELY .

꒰১ ✦* : ˚ʚ 【 @middleaxis / STARTER CALL. 】 ɞ˚ : ꙳✦ ໒꒱

‧₊˚ ⋅ ꒰১ ᯓ ☆ㅤ˗ˏˋ⠀ㅤ❛⠀—⠀ㅤYou know most people go to the Dreamscape to RELAX.⠀ㅤ❜

˚ʚ ☾ ɞ˚ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤㅤ⠀𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓. Others often pressured him to take more breaks from his OWN job. The Dreamchaser probably was under a lot of stress. Though⠀—⠀as he stood by the other, he couldn't help but wonder just WHAT she was doing.

˚ʚ ☾ ɞ˚ㅤ˗ˏˋㅤㅤ⠀❛ㅤ⠀Can I ask WHAT kind of work you're doing ? And⠀—⠀if you can step away from it and enjoy the Dreamscape even a little bit ?⠀ㅤ❜⠀

@middleaxis

' maybe he's just feeling shy ... ? ' it's the first thought that comes to mind , though the niwa wouldn't have known whether or not it held any truth to it without click himself being someplace to confirm or deny . ghosts and phantoms were always difficult to get ahold of , it was sort of their thing --- ! but he isn't so worried over stuff like creepy haunts and vanishings as he was far more concerned for the absent specter's feelings .

' you don't think he's in trouble , do you ? ' trouble entailing anything from succumbing to gloom in isolation or outright avoiding the candlelight and celebratory song for one reason or another . was it strange to try to celebrate the birthday of a dead person's ghost ? daisuke doesn't even consider the inner philosophy of it . instead , he takes immediately to vertin's side , offering the small palms of his hands to volunteer at holding the plate .

@middleaxis