#Prompt 1: Specter

[tolkienhorrorweek]

Tolkien Horror Week is back for another year of celebrating all the terrifying and unsettling bits of Tolkien's work! The event will run from October 26th to November 1st and accepts all types of fanworks. There is an AO3 collection for the event here.

Below are some suggested prompts for each day of the week. They are not mandatory; feel free to combine them or disregard them entirely.

Day 1: Angband, Utumno, & Tol-in-Gaurhoth | beautiful and yet horrible of shape | captives and thralls Day 2: Angmar & Minas Morgul | lit with a fell light | specters and wraiths Day 3: Mordor & the Dead Marshes | enmeshed in shadows | spells and enchantments Day 4: The Barrow-downs & the Old Forest | cold be hand and heart and bone | mists and mires Day 5: Mirkwood, Nan Elmoth, & Taur-nu-Fuin | hunted like wild beasts | beasts and monsters Day 6: Nan Dungortheb & the Paths of the Dead | phantoms of terror | webs and snares Day 7: Isengard, Moria, & Númenor | old and forgotten | rituals and sacrifices

Please mention @tolkienhorrorweek in the body of your post and tag #tolkienhorrorweek and #tolkienhorrorweek2025 in the first 10 tags. You may also submit a post. Please tag any content warnings/gore and place any NSFW content beneath a read more/link to AO3.

For more information, see the FAQ. If you have any questions, drop them in the ask box.

Art is by John Howe.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Try this prompt

https://www.tumblr.com/rottingghosty/777731547603369984/the-realms-pr-dc-x-dp?source=share

I’m gonna be honest, I have no idea what this is that i’ve written. It originally stemmed from one singular idea for an in-universe reply post by a character, but now it’s… whatever this is. So uh… yeah.

Also I spent way too long coming up with “realistic-ish” screen names for these characters just kinda for fun despite the fact that it’s entirely pointless. If any are overlapping with real usernames, it’s purely a coincidence

…and then it sat in my drafts for a long time until i decided to post it now to clear it out

Danny hadn’t expected his Phantom social media account to become that popular.

But even more so than that he especially hadn’t expected the amount of arguing it would generate.

| replying to @\GoGoGhoul

| > my @ is not a Homestuck reference!! @\ectobiologydude

Dumb Fuck. ghosts are imprints of emotion, no shit they resemble them! Mimicry =/= sentience! I bet you think your roomba is sentient too

| replying to \@ectobiologydude

| > #1 Zatanna Fangirl @\magicalgalpalz

Okay first of all how dare you besmirch the good name of Roombas they are perfect.

But also… by that metric, how do you know *humans* are sentient? You can’t see their minds either. At some point you just gotta accept that things that *appear* sentient are good enough.

| replying to \@magicalgalpalz

| > my @ is not a Homestuck reference!! @\ectobiologydude

[meme image: “when I’m in a missing the point competition and the opponent is you”]

| replying to \@magicalgalpalz

| > my @ is not a Homestuck reference!! @\ectobiologydude

Where the fuck did I say that we’re just assuming they’re nonsentient for no reason?

There are actual scientific studies, such as https://www.giw.gov/research/… or heck here’s one from Amity itself: http://fentonworks.com/files/…

| replying to @\ectobiologydude

| > S beve @\idkag00dname

Oh yeah, because the government can always be trusted to tell the truth about things that benefit them and random individuals are never crackpots.

| replying to @\ectobiologydude

| > Phantom’s #2* fan @\ImNumberKwan

Hey man, I guess you might not have heard, but the Fentons rescinded that study.

> 🛏️ 🛏️ノ( º _ ºノ) @\debunkedbed

Why are so many people treating the # PhantomsGhosts thing like it’s real?? It’s obviously just CGI. Well done CGI, sure, but like come on y’all…

| replying to @\debunkedbed

| > a single lovingly 3d modeled cube @\brickeeeeeeee

Dude, do you have any idea how hard accurately lighting transparent stuff is? If this is CGI, I’d sell my left kidney to get whatever computer that was able to render it in a reasonable time frame

| replying to @\brickeeeeeeee

| > 🛏️ 🛏️ノ( º _ ºノ) @\debunkedbed

Oh and you know what accurately lit ghosts would look like? As long as it isn’t blatantly wrong, any way of doing it would feel equally plausible.

It’s honestly pretty genius. Heck, even their floatiness is beneficial for hiding animation errors!

| replying to @\debunkedbed

| > Phantom’s #1 fan @\DashingBaxter

@\debunkedbed @\brickeeeeeeee PHANTOM IS NOT FAKE!!!

@\OGPhantom back me up here!

> 🖥️ 🐛 @\wellwornworms

Hey does anyone else think it’s weird that Amity Park—and especially @\RealFentonWorks—hated ghosts for a while but suddenly came crawling out of the woodwork to defend them?

| replying to @\wellwornworms

| > NAME @\NAME

That’s what I’ve been saying!! Obviously they’ve all been overshadowed! That’s why the GIW is more important than ever!!!

| replying to @\NAME

| > Fenton Works Official @\RealFentonWorks

I assure you, we’re not overshadowed! In fact, our patented Specter Deflector™ (available now for purchase through our website) is able to protect people from ghostly attacks such as overshadowing!

| replying to @\RealFentonWorks

| > NAME @\NAME

THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT SOMEONE OVERSHADOWED WOULD SAY!

[accol-fics]

Fic prompt:

Harvey Specter's highest profile case yet is going to a jury trial. Jury foreman Mike Ross (juror #1 in Harvey's copious notes) is too observant and too goddamn pretty for his own good... and for Harvey's.

[vivsinkpot]

Romantic Prompts: The Heir vs. The Bodyguard

Some love stories are declarations. Others unfold in silence — in watchful eyes, in unsaid promises, in the space between duty and desire.

This is for the ones who watch, and the ones who shine too brightly to see they’re being watched.

Here are ten prompts for the kind of love that’s felt in silence, and seen too late — or just in time. Pronouns are interchangeable.

1. He’s sworn to protect her, not to fall in love.

The first letter appears on her windowsill—no envelope, no signature, just a line in his unmistakable hand: You looked lonely tonight. She doesn’t mention it. The next one finds its way into her coat pocket. Then her book. Then her mirror. Each line is quiet, careful, and aching with things he cannot say aloud. At first, she thinks it’s a game. Then a confession. But when the words start to hint at dangers no one else could know, she realises he’s not just watching her—he’s warning her. And maybe, just maybe, protecting her from something more than assassins. Maybe from himself.

2. She knows every security detail, every route, every risk.

She memorised his routines before he ever learned her name. She was trained to get close, gain his trust, wait for the moment. And he made it easy—smiling like he meant it, speaking to her like she mattered, letting her see the soft boy beneath the title. She told herself it was all part of the job. But now her hands hesitate. Her orders remain folded, unread. He laughs beside her in the courtyard, unaware that she was meant to kill him weeks ago. She watches the way the sun catches in his hair and realises, too late, that her heart has already betrayed her.

3. He was trained never to speak unless spoken to.

He was taught to be a shadow, a silent sentinel to the heir’s every move. His training was rigid, his words few, reserved only for moments of necessity. But the heir, burdened by expectations, sought solace in conversations about literature, the isolation of power, and the unseen weight of a crown. At first, he listened, a mere observer to the princess’ musings. Yet, as the days wore on, a quiet shift occurred—words began to spill from his lips, unbidden, a bridge forming between them where once there was only distance. In the spaces between silence and duty, he found a voice he didn’t know he had.

4. She’s hired to protect a young heir with a reputation for arrogance.

She was hired to protect the tyrant prince, a young man whose arrogance was legendary, but when she arrived, she found a different truth. He wasn’t arrogant—he was quiet, almost fragile, weighed down by the expectations of a crown and the constant specter of past failures. His words were few, his eyes often cast downward, as if afraid that even a glance might awaken the ghosts of his ancestors’ disappointments. To her surprise, she became the first person in years to look beyond the rumors and see him as he truly was: a young man, not of pride, but of deep, lingering loneliness, desperate for understanding.

5. He’s not supposed to feel anything.

He was trained to remain indifferent, a stoic protector without emotions, his purpose only to shield and serve. But after the assassination attempt, when he’d thrown himself in front of her without hesitation, everything shifted. As she caught her breath, her fingers brushed his cheek—soft, gentle, a fleeting moment of humanity in the chaos—and she whispered his first name, a sound so intimate, so unexpected, that it echoed in his mind long after the danger had passed. He hadn’t been able to forget it since. That single touch, that small breach of the walls he’d built around himself, lingered like a secret he couldn’t shake.

6. She thought guarding a spoiled prince would be a simple job.

But at the grand ballroom gala, everything changed. In the midst of sparkling gowns and whispered gossip, he slid a knife into her hand, his voice low and urgent, “Trust no one but me.” The weight of the blade felt heavier than expected, as if it carried more than just steel. She glanced at him, the arrogance and charm of the prince slipping away, replaced by something darker, more calculating. Now, with the night’s intrigue unfolding around them, she found herself questioning everything—who was truly in control, and who was guarding who?

7. He sleeps standing up outside her door.

The stillness of the night was his only companion, and yet, on one particular evening, she opened the door. Her voice, soft and almost hesitant, broke the quiet: “I can’t sleep either.” It was a simple admission, but it felt like a shared understanding, a secret in the dark. She lingered in the doorway for only a moment, but it was enough. He didn’t close his eyes for the rest of the night, not out of duty, but because in that silence, they were both awake, each guarding something more fragile than they had realized.

8. He’s escaping a revolution; it’s her duty to protect him.

He was fleeing a revolution, a young lord with no more power than the title he clung to, while she was bound by duty to protect him—this cowardly, frightened man who had never learned to fight for himself. As they are forced to run together, through dense forests and hidden paths, the walls of their positions begin to fade. In the wilderness, he learns to fight, his once-soft hands growing rough from training, and she watches him, transfixed by the quiet determination in his movements. Under the silver glow of the moon, something shifts between them. She forgets to look away from his hands, the way they grasp the hilt of a blade, the way they’ve changed, just as they both have. In the depths of the forest, titles no longer matter; it’s just two people—learning, surviving, and maybe something more.

9. He watches every movement, every breath.

It’s not suspicion that drives him, but awe. He’s never known grace like hers, the way she carries herself with effortless elegance, as if the world bends around her. But in his world, grace is never a gift—it’s a warning. It’s the kind of beauty that draws attention, stirs envy, and ends in tragedy. And so he watches, not just to protect her, but because he knows that in the fragile space between admiration and obsession, grace is always fatal.

10. She’s been reassigned after a scandal.

But before retirement, she was handed a final job: protect a world-famous actor with a face everyone knew and a smile that made it hard to remember protocol. He was her last post before retirement—charming, too clever for his own good, offering her coffee at midnight like they were just two strangers meeting by chance. She’d guarded diplomats, politicians, royalty. She’d never failed a client. But she’d also never been tasked with protecting someone who made her laugh when she was meant to be watching exits, who looked at her like she wasn’t invisible. She told herself it was just a job. She knew better.

Whether you’re writing slow-burn tension, forbidden loyalty, or the unraveling of duty in the face of something softer — the heir and bodyguard dynamic always cuts deep.

More dynamic-driven prompt sets coming soon.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 10

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

Jason woke with a start as someone gently shook his shoulder, one of his notes from the previous night sticking to his face as he shot up. He heard a soft giggle from next to him and looked up, and up at Jasmine Nightingale, Queen Regent, standing there with a plate of food and looking regal as ever in her teal toga dress.

"You missed breakfast, but it looks like you were pretty busy. What are you working on?" she asked, setting a plate of French toast on the table and taking a seat, careful to not look at the notes without permission. Still, he was thankful he had written all his notes in code.

He shuffled the papers together and stuffed them into his journal before pulling the plate closer. "Just research about this place, there's so many different places here. Where are your favorite places to visit when you get a day off?" He took a bite of the food and noticed a cinnamon flavored syrup.

"I don't really go anywhere on my days off, I usually just hang out in the library or in my room all day. Sometimes I'll go visit Lady Pandora and have sandwiches and spar with her, but I haven't had much of a chance to get out of the castle for a while now." She frowned to herself as if just now realizing. "I mean, I do sometimes for meetings and whatnot, but I haven't had a chance to explore much of the Realms."

"Is there anywhere you'd want to go visit?" Jason asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

She held a finger to her chin and looked upwards as she thought. "I'd like to go to the Boardwalk at Eternal Shores and ride the coaster there." She remembered more places she wanted to go in the Realms from when she first started learning about them. "I want to hike up Soul's Peak. I want to sail in the Mirror Sea, that's so crystal clear you can see the bottom and all the fantastical and weird corals and fish. I want to ride my bike down Highway 6-66 and go to Beelzebub's Waffle House and stay at Hestia's Bed and Breakfast." She clenched her fists as she hid her face with a curtain of her hair. "I want to go to the Second Globe Theatre to watch the plays that Shakespeare has released since his death." She whispered to herself.

Jason reached for her forearm and patted it in comfort, bringing her out of her thoughts. He smiled encouragingly at her.

"Sorry, I guess I needed to let that out." She sighed and blew her hair out of her face. "I really do need a day out."

"Sounds like it. Maybe you can let any advisors you have know you need some time away? Surely they can last one day without you?" He asked and finished his plate.

"Maybe, I'll talk to Frostbite about it when we go see him. It's gonna take us a little while to get there because the Far Frozen is about a two hour drive by Specter Speeder. You should go get ready, we're heading out in about an hour. We keep cold weather clothes in the Speeder." She stood up and wiped her hands on her dress, then snapped her fingers for a skeleton to appear and take away the dish.

"What dress code should I dress for today?" Jason asked and she froze.

"Dress code?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Well, I want to match the vibe of the day, I'd feel weird to wear modern street fashion if the others in my party were wearing more formal clothes." I want to match you, he thought.

"Oh, well." She played with her skirt. "I guess since I'm appearing in public, I should dress accordingly. I'm still going more casual today since I don't have to do any public speaking. If you want to match?" She blushed. "Then I guess casual royal court? I know we don't know each other very well yet, but I'd like to be your friend if you'd accept?" She held out her hand to shake.

He gently took her hand and, though he felt electricity shoot from his fingertips, he kept his face calm and he shook it once, then let go. "I'd be more than happy to be your friend." He said with a smile.

Jazz seemed frozen for a moment before she held her hand to her chest and turned away. "I'll meet you at the split in the hallways in an hour." She said as she fled the room. Jason let out a huff of a laugh.

An hour later has Jason dressed in a poet's shirt with a pair of black leather pants, still paired with his combat boots, standing and waiting for Jazz.

"Boo." He hears and startles as Danny fades into existence, floating upside down next to him. Somehow, his clothes did not obey gravity and clung to him as if he were upright. Today he was just in the same outfit Jason had met him in.

"Christ kid, you're gonna kill me again I swear." Jason grumbles.

"Leather pants? Really? I know I said she likes the biker look, but leather pants?" Danny looked him up and down. " And what's with the flowy shirt anyway? Not very biker there."

Jason rolled his eyes and sighed, crossing his arms. "I wanted to match your sister." He stated.

"Oh boy, does this mean you're gonna be dressing like dudes on romance novel covers?" Danny scrunched his nose. "I mean, I have seen Jazz read some of those I guess, and hey, if it works, then go for it I guess." Danny fell backwards so he was floating on his back. "I'm coming with you guys to visit the Yeti's today by the way. Jazz still gets lost getting there sometimes, and the GZPS has been on the fritz since the last time Technus was here, so I gotta guide you."

"Hey, I'm getting better at it!" Jazz said as she approached the pair. "Come on, let's head over." They made their way to the training grounds where what appeared to be a hover-submarine in gleaming chrome floated with it's side hatch wide open.

Once inside, Jason took the passenger's seat and Jazz took the pilot's seat and began take off. It was a bit weird to get used to the motion, but soon they were gliding through the green and purple sky.

"So, Shakespeare's released new plays since he died? Have you had the chance to read some?" Jason asked, and with that question, Jazz just began talking with passion. He looked softly at her as she rambled for the next hour about 'Love's Labour's Won', the play thought to have been lost to time, but that Shakespeare was able to pen again once he had his haunt established and had a full cast of ghosts willing to spend eternity performing.

"What about you? I noticed you were reading Austen's first post-mortem book. How are you liking 'Satisfaction'? I read it a few years ago when I first explored the library." It was now Jason's turn to start rambling about a topic as he praised it and compared it to some of her other books.

"We're getting close!" Danny yelled from outside the Speeder. Jason looked up to see a floating glacier rapidly approaching them.

[sol-consort]

How do you think the mass effect depicts would react to trick or treating? (Sorry if it’s been asked before and I missed it)

Halloween Pt.1

[Part 2]

Dw, you're good it's never been asked before. Even then, I don't mind repeating prompts if I had something new to add... Otherwise I just let it marinate in my inbox in shame.

Gonna assume this is about Mass Effect alien species and not specific characters since that's what I'm mostly asked about. If anything, it shows how impressive the world building in the franchise is for the whole foundation of my blog to be set upon mostly just the species content.

Asari

They think it's a little novel of a holiday

Surprisingly down to participate in it, both to "welcome our new human neighbours" and because they're genuinely intrigued

Most asari are hardcore

They take the costume making part of Halloween very seriously

A good handful of them do end up dressing up as Aria

Doesn't end well.

The first year of Halloween to them is a big hit

Becomes a whole trend and the Next Big Thing

Then like all trends, it ends up simmering down with time

A couple decades into the future and only some asari still celebrate Halloween, mostly the ones with human relatives or friends

But a lot of houses, stores, and even offices keep a honorary candy bowl for humans during this time of year

More as an accommodation

Human demand free candy from you during this one day, it's a given fact across the galaxy

And the asari are nothing but courteous and considerate of other species' customs.

The asari only ever hand out asari candy, absolutely refuse buying anything else.

-

Turians

You give the war nerds a chance to dress up as their favourite hero and expect them NOT to jump on it?

They even use real guns and weapons in their costumes

Aren't in it for the candy

Frankly they can't even eat 90% of it, and houses rarely have dextro candy soo...

They're content with being the person with the most badass Halloween costume in the room

Get too into character, however.

Especially the ones cosplaying as a specter

Especially the ones cosplaying as a certian specter Sniper from an infamous Normandy team

Turians think humans have the right idea about Halloween but the wrong execution

Everything is too easy it's...too boring

Where is the pizzazz? Where are the stakes?

The tricks. Oh yes the tricks

Instead of freely offering candy, you must impress the whole turian household first before they deem you fitting of receiving their favour

Sometimes whole competitions are put in place

They like it enough to incorporate an altered version of trick treating into their own holiday calendar

At least the human Halloween parties are fun

Turian houses hand out energy candy bars and dextro candy, which is...poisonous to humans.

-

Angara

So why can't they just give you the candy right away?

Why do you have to wait and dress up?

You can just ask, they'll give you free candy any day :)

Despite their words, they're the most likely species to pick "trick" when approached

They're just curious, they wanna see what trick you have up your sleeves

What do you mean "it's just a saying"

You don't have anything prepared? Then why did you offer in the first place

Now they're just disappointed, human.

They find the holiday a little strange, some are sceptical of how it could be enjoyable, others are very intrigued and excited

Chances are the angara would just observe the humans from afar

At least in the first Halloween year before deciding to take a dip in the pool

Others straight up immediately canonballing into the whole Halloween thing from day one

They end up enjoying it more than they thought. Going door to door and seeing their neighbours, meeting other friendly faces

They still don't see a point for the rehearsed lines, why not just ask directly for candy?

A lot of Angara do actually bother to prepare a trick

Ringing the doorbell to an angaran household, the door opens for you to be greated by one of the mothers looking at you in endearment

She compliments your costume, little nitpicky with the details, but hey, it's her sincere opinions

Lifting your candy bucket up in anticipation

You receive!

Goob

A scoop of yummy angaran goob piped into candy wrappings

As your treat

[hebuiltfive]

Sooo the prompt thingy I misread and tried to make a prompt - most were kind of romantic which given the pair was a no but then as I cycled through this one came up…

Alan holding Scott's hands when they are shaking.

Which might be rather interesting if it grabs you!?!

Better late than never, right? Sorry it's taken me months to get back to you on this. I'm hoping it's worth the wait. The prompt definitely grabbed me!

Disclaimer to say this is a three chapter story, with no current plans on continuing it, and it does end on a cliffhanger. Also, we don't actually get to the prompt until the last chapter... There was a bit of exposition that needed doing first.

I hope you enjoy it though! 💙 AO3 here

Specter: The Discovery

Ch.1 - The Lunar Expansion And Underground Land Identification Corporation

“Thunderbird Five, do you copy? John, can you… Please, can you hear me?”

He wouldn’t break down into tears, no matter how badly the dams wanted to break. Crying would solve nothing and Alan really, really needed to get this situation solved before it got any worse.

Tapping his comms again, trying not to let his frustration and fear get the better of him, Alan sniffled, faking his best smile. “John, I really could use some of your insanely wise wisdom right about now.”

But the line remained stone cold dead.

14:05

John had relayed the call regarding the four trapped lunar miners at lunchtime.

Alan had launched Thunderbird Three not twenty minutes later, Scott on his left acting as his co-pilot.

There had been nothing in the mission brief to suggest they approach the disaster zone with any more caution than normal. It was, from the information John had received from the ground team, a fairly simple extraction mission. In hindsight, the lack of information that John had been given should have had alarm bells ringing in all their heads.

“What were they even excavating down there?” Scott had asked the valid question once John had given them the very quick lowdown.

“They weren’t clear with me on that.” John replied, the irritation evident in his voice. “All they mentioned was something about a colony.”

Alan had scoffed at that. “On the Moon? Do they not know there’s a successful and vibrant civilisation being built on Mars right now? Who would want to make a new base on the Moon?”

“Uncle Lee still has a fondness for the Moon.” Scott had commented without taking his eyes off the colourful screen of readouts in front of him. He flicked through the various bits of data, his expression growing more and more taut with each swipe. There was not one report that was fully completed, all having various black lines and CLASSIFIED — DO NOT READ signs strewn across the pages. The holograms were a jigsaw of information, no one piece fully complete and legible, and Scott was not happy about it.

“That’s more sentimental.” John pointed out. “Besides, bases and colonies are two very different things. The Moon is a great half-way point to Mars to set up a base, Alan, but that isn’t what they seem to be doing.”

Defeated, Scott had banished the data away from his view with an exasperated sigh. “What did you say the name of this company was again, John?”

“I didn’t. It’s some new start-up, I think. I hadn’t heard about until we got the call. Apparently their business is called ‘The Lunar Expansion and Underground Land Identification Corporation’. If you’re pressed for time, they also go by ‘The Lunar Expansion Co.’ for short.”

Alan hadn’t been impressed with the company’s choice of name and had fought back his urge to eye-roll upon hearing it. Whoever was responsible for creating that mess of a title needed a serious lesson in how to name a company properly. Take their two family businesses — Tracy Industries and International Rescue — they were short, sweet and to the point. Bonus points for their acronyms being easy to remember; TI and IR. They virtually roll off the consumer’s tongue!

LEULIC, however? What kind of an acronym was that? Alan didn’t claim to know much about business, and often left the more complicated matters to his older brothers, but even he knew catchiness was a key selling point when it came to a name! This company’s was too much of a mouthful, and nobody was going to remember LEULIC!

“So, they’re identifying land to expand upon?”

“That’s the idea, Scott, at least from the limited information they’ve given me. No-one on their end has been willing to divulge anything else.”

“Keep talking with them. See if you can get them to open up a bit more. The more we know, the better it’ll be when we get there.”

“F.A.B.”

15:23

Thunderbird Three’s retros fired as they entered the Moon’s orbit.

The sight was one Alan was sure he’d never get used to. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to it.

Being International Rescue’s main astronaut, Alan had flown his red rocket to the likes of Mars and Europa, and he had set foot on Haley’s Comet. One day, he dreamed he’d travel to the edge of the solar system in his faithful Thunderbird.

But the Moon?

The Moon meant so much more to him. The Moon was far more special.

Earth’s natural satellite, along with the stars that shared the night-sky, had been the first celestial object that Alan had ever set his eyes upon. With all her swirls and craters, it had been the foundations of all of Alan’s astronaut dreams as a child. Unlike the other planets in the solar system, where one needed a telescope to fully appreciate their beauty, the Moon was almost always visible from Earth with the naked eye. Alan had never mistaken the Moon for a bright star, as he had so often done with the other planets. Even during the light of day, the familiar rock could sometimes be seen, still visible despite the hour.

Always constant, always there.

The Moon.

Beyond that, however, the Moon had been Dad and Uncle Lee’s home for a while. His brothers used to call it ‘Dad’s Office’ and, whenever Alan was missing him, he had taken comfort in the ability to see the rock upon which his Dad had been living and working.

The Moon would never not be special for Alan. He would never tire of visiting it, nor would he ever grow bored of observing it.

As final preparations were made to land and the grey surface spread across Thunderbird Three’s cockpit windows, Alan couldn’t help the small smile that gently formed on his lips.

Three hit the dusty surface with a soft thud.

Scott wasted no time in unbuckling himself from the co-pilot chair. He attached his helmet and checked his wrist unit. A hologram of data emerged, hovering in the air above his arm. Parts were still blocked off, much to Scott’s annoyance, but he swiped through until he found the page he was looking for.

A map that John had managed to wrangle from the Lunar Expansion company.

“We only have two hours until those workers run out of oxygen.”

As Alan followed Scott’s lead, unclipping his helmet from his belt and assessing his own equipment, four blips on the map began to flash; the four trapped miners.

Scott pointed to it. “We’re approximately five miles south of the disaster zone. We’ll take the Explorer Pod and travel north until we meet them. We need to work fast. Time isn’t on our side.”

“Relax, Scott. This is as simple as a mission can be.”

His brother scowled. “You should know better than to use the S word, Alan.”

“Oh, come on! The company with the stupidly long name, trying to create a colony on the Moon?” Alan clicked his helmet into place. The oxygen from his own tank hissed as his suit became airtight. “We’ll be home in time for dinner!”

16:04

The red shell of Three grew smaller and smaller as they travelled across the dusty lunar terrain. Alan tried not to look back. Upon leaving Three’s cockpit, a gnawing sense of doubt over the mission began to rear its head. No matter how much he tried to shake it, the feeling refused to leave him. Glancing back towards his Thunderbird, towards their only ride back home, and watching it shrink in the distance didn’t help matters.

By the time they arrived at the base — if it could even be called such; one lunar rover transporter, two mobile units and a very large drill could hardly be taken seriously as a base! And these people were supposedly trying to build a colony? — Scott and Alan were surprised to see the Lunar team having already begun rescue operations. It was a relief to see that the work done by the Lunar team hadn’t been a complete botch job.

The drill, specially crafted to break apart the lunar surface, had been deployed cautiously in an attempt to burrow a new hole. According to Meg, the leader of the group of miners, the new hole had been excavated beside the first one, but Alan had a hard time figuring out exactly where this initial hole had supposed to have been. Either the team had already done a good job at covering it back over, knowing they wouldn’t be needing it again, or… Alan wasn’t sure what the or was. All he knew was that his rising sense of dread was deepening with each passing second.

The Lunar team had managed to reach the collapsed cavern, where the four trapped miners had been cowering, in less than an hour. Scott had scanned the area briefly, sending his data back to Thunderbird Five. He didn’t bother waiting for John to reply, jumping straight into the action with easy commands and direct instructions for the rest of them, Alan included.

A winch secured. A line tightened. Scott hooked in.

The first two miners were an easy score. Alan had opened comms to inform John that Scott was like the claw in an arcade machine and the miners were the prizes he was winning, only there was no sarcastic retort about how Scott was terrible at the claw machines and that he’d believe it when he saw it.

There was no reply at all. John’s communications were silent.

The situation wasn’t dire, the mission was running smoothly, so why was John so quiet? Alan thought back to the data that Scott had sent him earlier. There had been no response to that message either.

“Hey, Scott…” Alan began as his brother ascended from the hole for the third time, slightly wounded miner under his arm.

“Can’t stop, Allie. The last one’s disappeared.”

Alan ceased his prodding and poking of his wrist unit to glance up at Scott. His brow creased, perplexed. “What do you mean ‘disappeared’? It’s a cave-in. Where else could he have gone?”

Scott rose both his arms up in an exasperated shrug. “All I know is that he was there when I was retrieving Miner Two but he was gone when I went back for this one.”

“Does she not know where he went?”

“Shock.” Scott explained, tugging again on the rope strapped to his waist. “Couldn’t get anything from her.”

The comms situation could wait, Alan decided. He lowered his wrist and began to set up his own winch system.

“No, Alan, you stay here.”

“Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”

“Yes, but it’s better if you remain top-side for now.”

“If you’re expecting trouble, it’s probably better if I come down with you.”

“Who said I’m expecting trouble?”

“Your face, your voice, your general ‘must keep Alan out of harm’s way’ schtick.”

Once upon a time, Alan resented his older brothers for trying to keep him out of the loop. Even at the age of ten, when they tried to keep the worst parts of Dad’s explosion from him, Alan had insisted he’d been old enough to deal with it all. Nowadays, he understood, even if he still didn’t always agree with it.

Scott chuckled. “I’m not apologising for it, Alan.”

“I don’t like this, Scott.”

He had dropped his voice down to a whisper so only his brother could hear. Scott strolled over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Despite Alan’s growth spurt a few years prior, he still wasn’t quite at Scott’s height, and so his brother tilted his head down. “Like you said, simple mission, right?”

“I definitely think I spoke too soon.”

“Also like you said,” Scott continued, not allowing Alan the chance to feel guilty for accidentally jinxing their mission, “it’s caved-in. There’s hardly many places he could be. I’ll be out again before you know it, missing miner in tow, alright?”

Alan could feel his goosebumps rising. His cheek twitched.

“Hey?” Scott patted his shoulder before letting go. “Time is running out.”

His brother had tried to reassure him, but Alan felt no more reassured than he did twenty seconds before. He gave Scott his best smile regardless. Scott’s returning smile was doubtful in itself. Alan knew his brother too well for Scott to hide the concern in his eyes.

He watched as his brother lowered himself over the edge of the hole, as the blue and grey of his uniform slowly descended down into the dark abyss, with his gut instincts screaming at him to pull him back up.

Jeff had always taught his boys to never discount their instincts, to always trust what they felt, no matter how ridiculous it might have been. Alan ignored those words of wisdom. He ignored his instincts entirely, opting instead to tend to the shocked miners. His mind, he decided, just needed something else to occupy it until Scott got back.

Only Scott wasn’t coming back, and Alan’s realisation of that came all too late.

[shannynouhoh]

Shadows of Isolation

BEARBLR PROMPTOBER DAY 1 - Scary Movie

pairing: Richie Jerimovich x Reader

word count: 735

notes: I don't know who is going to read this, this is only my second time sharing fan fiction writing. Bearblr Prompter sounded so good, I wanted in. Happy October.

Richie would definitely consider himself a romantic, albeit a bit rusty at this point. Always the loud and obnoxious one among a group, opportunity was limited to showcase certain skills of romance. Tonight was going to be a normal Wednesday evening, normality he has grown accustomed to since meeting her - a breath of fresh air and friend first and foremost. You invite his obnoxious jokes, you even have a few of your own up your sleeves, yet it is your acceptance that has anchored him the most. Being around you doesn’t simply prompt introspection, it encourages it. For Richie, a blessing when the rest of his life is going well, a curse when it all topples down one meltdown and one interaction with Frank at a time. 

He met you at a bowling club, long after the rest of his The Bear family left the scene. An attempt to avoid life for just one more lime soda on ice. “Last one’s paying, am I right?” you smirked returning your bowling shoes after giving them a good clean. He looks at you confused and you wave your debit card defeatedly. “That’s how it goes. Did your friends leave you to pay as well?”. Richie sips from his drink and shakes his head, “that’s some asshole friends you’ve got, sweetheart.” You nod with a smile as your eyes move toward the exit, “Naaah they’re okay.” you respond warmly. After settling the bill you turn to him, “You want some company while you finish this drink?”

That's how your friendship started, a long conversation about bowling and your respective friend groups later and you suggested to stay in contact in case the other ever needs a bowling partner. And bowling turned into billiard nights, laser tag, arcade strolls once every two weeks if you could arrange it. Richie was hesitant in the beginning, the attention he received from you felt like a set up. In his eyes, whatever your intention was, you were way out of his league and your blatantly open flirting triggered internal alarm bells. If you asked The Bear, everyone would attest that Richie’s demeanor changed over a very short period of time, and life seemed a bit lighter. And sometimes he dared to dream about those doubt-inducing what-ifs. What if she doesn’t flirt just for shits and giggles, and what if this is his second chance?

Tonight felt different; tonight, you had invited him for a scary movie night to your place—you, a woman whose laughter sparkled like sunlight through trees—welcoming him into the comforts of your home  to watch horror films on an oversized projector screen in your living room. Sharing space and sharing your passion for horror with him is totally normal between friends, but Richie’s brain has been in overthinking mode since you so casually suggested the very different plans for your treasured fortnightly Wednesdays. He toyed with the idea inviting you over many times and you beat him to it. As the sun dipped below the horizon and shadows began to dance around along the walls, Richie suddenly felt overwhelmed by a tide of self-doubt that gnawed at him like a malicious specter from one of their chosen films.

The movie flickered ominously as you shared popcorn and half-hearted giggles and sweet “fuck offs” mouthed at each other when creatures leapt out from dark corners onscreen and it took him offguard. Yet with each echoing shriek from your lips came another reminder of Richie’s perceived inadequacies—your stories of trips around the world with your friends, live music you’ve experienced and all these soft impressions of a life fully lived draws stark comparisons against his new solitary lifestyle filled only by weekends with his daughter and hopes of somehow turning all this shit around. He marvels at your spirited conversations but feels a heavy weight settle over him: How could someone so wonderfully alive be interested in someone like him? As anxiety washes over him, turning every heartbeat into thunderous doubt, Richie finds himself retreating further into his thoughts even as you laugh together at his wild reactions to ridiculous jump scares.

And as darkness envelopes you both, something shifts within Richie and it becomes clear to him that maybe there is no place for him in your life, not right now when all he has are glimpses of who he could be, and no real appreciation for who he is.

[bodybeyondstories]

if you want to expand the virus story there’s so many possible lanes

epidemiologists examining the first cases in a lab

mishandled virus sample in a lab

quarantined facility with strict and embarrassing measures to assess if people have contracted it

the making of a government psa about how it spreads, warning signs, and at home tests

Ok public health crisis world building!!!

With that viral ass expansion story, and others like it (like Growth Notes), I'm really interested in that balance between rate of spread and severity of cases in which you can have this tension between 1) people denying it's even happening and downplaying discourse on social media as fantastical or morphed; 2) people accepting it and being largely unconcerned because they don't think it's a big deal or only had a mild case (with the added caveat of the increasing visibly/showing off of perfect bubble butts because of mild cases); and 3) the small percentage of extreme cases that are increasingly hidden away but become harder to deny as the virus spreads. So you have all these slice of life moments of the virus impacting different parts of social and cultural life, but you also get the makeshift clinic scene of beach ball sized buns bursting out of hospital gowns, men trying to readjust to normal life even though they have to squeeze through doorways, etc. Also dudes who enthusiastically seek out multiple infections in an effort to end up with extreme cases that give them freakish proportions.

Like how long does it take until this mysterious ass expansion virus is recognized as such? How does word spread before it's actually declared an epidemic? What's the community-level response before there's a systemic containment plan? What's the messaging strategy to get dudes to get over the awkwardness/embarrassment/denial and seek treatment before their asses are impossible to hide? What are the longer term impacts on mens/masc beauty standards and body politics across the landscape of gender and sexuality? On fitness and fashion? Or accessibility accommodations for this thing that people are largely denying, laughing at, or lusting over?

It would be cool to do sort of a messy, not fully edited documentary type story that's composed of short vignettes from different perspectives. Maybe??

Also, soon after I wrote that prompt, I actually came across a much more developed and very well done story with a similar premise, "Off Sick," by Anonymous Fox on Gay Spiral Stories. It's a viral ass (and etc) expansion story that plays off the specter of long covid in kind of an inverse way and presents a commentary on normalization, manufactured consent and the failures of public health in this moment. It's also really hot. A must read!

[latranthropy]

YPASFS (or You People Are So Fucking Stupid: A Response to IFHYP)

I Fucking Hate You People, or IFHYP for short is, simply put, a thought-terminating juvenile piece of art by a self-aggrandizing amateur. To fully break down why this is, I will examine each section of the piece.

Section 1: The “Non-Art”

IFHYP’s first section is a title image displaying the text “I FUCKING HATE YOU PEOPLE, an interactive non-art piece”, followed by eight AI-generated images of anime women in American iconography. The images are varying degrees of sexual. This section is probably most emblematic of the bizarre and juvenile choices on display in IFHYP. A breakdown of each choice will be provided.

American Iconography

The choice to use American Iconography in IFHYP is fundamentally nonsensical. There is no reason to choose specifically American iconography when posing a criticism of consumption of art. America is not uniquely tied to the so-called “reactionary anti-AI” movement. The reason for this choice is that the creator and those of allied political beliefs believe in the specter of The Artist, who is a reactionary petit-bourgeois of the Western Imperial Core. Thus, the issue with the choice of American Iconography is that it betrays the boiling down of The Digital Artist (a non-homogenous group) to a strawman only for use in proving oneself correct regardless of its veracity. The inclusion of American Iconography is merely to prove the art is ideologically pure (a point I shall comment on later)

The Art Style

The images are generated in “an ‘anime’ style”. This fundamentally works against aspects of IFHYP. First off, the choice of an art style originating from the East (specifically Japan) used in an attempt to critique Western engagement with art is bizarre. However, anime and manga do enjoy followings in Western nations, so this can perhaps be excused. This only leads to a different problem though: anime and manga are often denigrated in the West along with animations, cartoons, and anything else deemed childish. Furthermore, anime, manga, and similar eastern styles, genres, and productions are subjected to Orientalist perceptions of them (see statements about how anime is “always sexual/pedophilic because Japan is like that”; there are hundreds of thousands of such statements, “joking” and serious, to be found online). However let us hand wave this issue again, and move along with the statement that anime and manga are regarded as childish and subject to Orientalist perceptions because of a refusal to engage with art. These are certainly possibilities, but they do not align with how the rest of the piece conducts itself.

The Content

The content of the image portion of IFHYP varies in degree of sexual imagery, from straightforward frontal generations of an anime woman’s head and shoulders to an image of an almost entirely nude anime woman save for clothes pushed aside to expose her breasts and labia. This choice also works entirely against the content of IFHYP, because pornography is widely not considered as art. Pornography is commodified and victim to capitalist consumption because it is defined as a product. This choice is wholly illogical and only serves to muddy IFHYP’s meaning.

Section 2: The Engagement

The second section of IFHYP consists of two images of a form modeled after standardized testing questionnaires. This portion is patently ridiculous. It betrays that the artist of IFHYP actively looks down on those engaging in the piece (something made very obviously clear with the Artist Statement, which will be covered in Section Three. The questions are simply put, leading questions. A leading question is “a question that prompts or encourages the desired answer”. The questions themselves lead viewers in one of two directions: those who agree with the artist’s politics (and thus are Ideologically Pure) will pat themselves on the back for ascribing to the same ideas as the artist and think themselves witty for “understanding” its “criticisms” of how art is engaged with and consumed, while those who disagree are meant to take umbrage and respond angrily, thus allowing the artist and ideologically aligned fellows to congratulate themselves on showing just how “reactionary” their opposition is.

Section 3: The Artist’s Statement.

The final portion of IFHYP proper is the Artist Statement, reading “I made I FUCKING HATE YOU PEOPLE because I fucking hate you people. Your reactionary sentimentalities cause you to refuse to reckon with anything that could possibly expand your consciousness unless you are literally bludgeoned over the head with it. This piece is Not Art. There is No Art contained within this piece. This device is a weapon designed to hurt the reader/viewer. Any and all art which comes from this piece, or is produced by this piece, is purely incidental, and not the political responsibility of the artist, who did not make a piece of art."

This statement is nothing but ludicrous grandstanding self-aggrandization on the part of the artist. It shows that IFHYP is not about art, it is not about consumption and engagement, it is about ideological purity. It once again homogenizes those who oppose AI’s use in image and text generation to the spectre of a Reactionary Other, and thus cannot withstand any criticism. Why? Because any criticism that is posed against it will automatically be posited as belonging to the spectre of the Reactionary Other, thus fortifying that IFHYP is Ideologically Pure. IHFYP and its artists are of the type described by Alain Locke in his 1928 response to W. E. B. Du Bois “Art or Propaganda?”. Sizhen System is another Jeremiah, and IFHYP another drab wilderness. The piece is so obsessed with being Ideologically Pure that its own construction suffers.

Lastly, and ironically, for claiming to be “Not Art” IFHYP is at its core a digital installation made by the exact type of person it claims to hate: a person blind to their own preconceived notions of art. IFHYP emulates popular digital art as well as modern art gallery installations. For all its bluster, it fails to actually display anything to push the envelope of art as it claims.

Section 4: The Public Response

The public response to IFHYP is incredibly flawed. For one, it’s supporters are obsessed with its ideological purity insofar as I even received an anonymous ask telling me “I read/understood it wrong” when expressing my rudimentary opinions. That must mean there is a “right way” of engaging and understanding IFHYP then, which is a fundamentally fascistic and reactionary view of engagement with art. There is no right way to engage with and understand a piece - to claim otherwise is to subscribe to traditionalist views of engagement with art.

Section 5: Dadaist?

IFHYP has been described as Dadaist by those who laud it. This is patently false and is representative of the inability of the supporters of IFHYP to engage with it beyond its Ideological Purity. Dadaism is a European movement of art that developed in 1915 in the context of the Great War and the anti-art movement of that era. To claim that IFHYP is Dadaist merely because it rails against ideas of art and is anti-capitalist is to expose that one does not actually understand artistic movements, their contexts, and their place in progression of the ideas of what makes art. Dada owes its roots to the Futurist and Expressionist art movements, which both rejected prior ideas of art, and gave rise to Surrealism and modernist art movements. IFHYP displays none of the ideological or artistic hallmarks of Dada. What IFHYP does display is ideological descent from a different, later movement: Pop Art.

Pop Art arose in America and the UK in the 1950s and used commercial and popular culture iconography to challenge concepts of fine art. Pop Art also notably raised ideas of originality, especially through names like Andy Warhol and his silkscreens. The use of AI generation, imagery and iconography associated with America and American culture, and an art style most noted for its use in commercial entertainment are all emblematic of Pop Art sensibilities. Pop Art is similar to Dada, but utilizes different methodology in its protest of traditional conceptions of art.

Section 6: The Artist Statement

I will now give my artist statement, for what is the essay writer if not a poet? My Artist Statement is as follows:

“I made You People Are So Fucking Stupid because you people are so fucking stupid. Your obsession with ideological purity causes you to refuse to reckon with anything that could possibly critique your work unless you can denounce it as part of the Reactionary Other. This piece is art. There is art contained within this piece. This device is a weapon designed to confront the reader/viewer.”

Who’s the Pop Artist now?

[capripian-arts]

[ID: Six traditionally inked drawings with minimal color. 1: Pakunoda laid out dead with a halo of flowers around her head. 2: A Black Egyptian woman with large spectacles holding a bug-winged cat. 3: A bone-winged fallen aasimar swinging a red, magical axe. 4: A genasi with pearlescent skin, and a tiny Bisky looking at Blue Planet. 5: Killua sitting up in bed next to Gon, a purplish specter of Illumi looming over him. 6: Two people, one freckled with shaggy hair and the other well-put-together with pink makeup, connected with roses between them.

Final inktobers (don't look at the date) from Secret Satan's inktober list. Prompts: celestial, familiar, corruption, iridescent, nightmare, flowers.

[ash-arts-a-thing]

Specter Carlo AU Character notes, this is for things specific to Pinocchio, Carlo, and Romeo. Things like their game mechanics, how they interact, things they’d say or do. I should have everything in here, but should I have to I will just come back here and edit or add what I need to do I don’t make fifty posts with minor changes.

[Chapters 1-3] [Chapters 4&5] [Chapter 6]

Notes on Carlo:

* He cannot harm allies, since he is tied to Pinocchio by being summoned through the star fragment, anybody that he has deemed a friend or ally can’t be hurt by Carlo’s hands.

* He doesn’t have to worry about normal body functions, eating, drinking, sleeping, bathroom breaks, he doesn’t have to worry about any of it.

* He can interact with physical objects, but still cannot use said objects for harm against allies.

* His body works as if it’s an active projector of stars. Shooting stars can cross his body, arauras, galaxies, constilations, nebulas, they can all slide by his body as if you’re watching the sky move out a window.

* When not summoned he is not able to interact with objects, BUT he can still communicate with and watch Pinocchio.

* When not summoned, if Pinocchio happens to be looking at a reflective surface, Carlo can talk through the reflection. He’s almost like a shadow in that capacity.

* When he was alive he was dating Romeo, he never moved on even in death.

* Should Romeo be kept alive after the King of Puppets boss fight, Carlo stays permanently. Since Romeo would still be counted as an active boss Carlo wouldn’t vanish, should an event happen where Romeo was killed at any point after then Carlo would go too regardless of the circumstances.

* When talking through a reflection he is literally Pinocchio’s mimic, he can move and talk, but has none of the visual differences, such as his lack of freckles, brown eyes, outfit, etc.

* Carlo would act as a companion if Romeo is spared since he is permantly active, he will by default stay at the hotel unless Pinocchio drags him along with him.

* Whenever Pinocchio returns to the hotel Carlo will once again default to the hotel until asked to join again.

Note: if he has been made permanent he will have spots that he frequents just like the other characters.

These locations are:

1. He will be actively playing the piano, but only if Antonia is still in that room (this cannot happen if Romeo is playing a record).

2. He will sit on the stairs leading to the courtyard and will be reading, very high chance he’ll be reading ‘Pinocchio’.

3. Should Spring be on the couch next to where Alidoro stands, Carlo will sit on the couch with the cat in his lap.

4. In the courtyard practicing on target dummies.

5. Anywhere that avoids his father.

6. Has a 40% chance of being where Romeo is (except in Gepetto’s room).

* Carlo will appear as soon as the wish stone is used rather than only appearing once the arena is entered, he can be spoken to, but he will not move until the fight has started.

* Carlo will have unique dialogue for each boss while in battle.

* Carlo will grunt when exerting himself or when hit, he will occasionally laugh and it will be boardering on unhinged.

* Carlo will have a chance to prompt Pinocchio to heal himself if his health falls below half or to use a ampoule should Pinocchio aquire a status ailment.

These prompts are: (Truth / Lie)

1. “Heal yourself, idiot.” / “Hey, heal yourself!”

2. “Pay attention! Heal yourself!” / “Eyes up, use a cell if you can!”

3. “If you die I’m not sticking around, literally, keep your health up!” / “Think of yourself for once and heal!”

4. (Break) “You idiot, watch it! You can’t heal properly now!” / “Careful, it’ll be harder to get a full heal like that!”

5. (Corruption) “If you get corrupted like the rest of them I’ll take you out myself.” / “Watch it, don’t end up like the rest of those mindless puppets.”

6. (Decay) “If your weapon breaks I’m not giving you mine.” / “I don’t have a spare weapon on me, just so you know!”

7. (Disruption) “You stupid puppet! Watch out for your heart!” / “Hey, hey! It’s messing with your ergo, watch it!”

8. (Electric Shock) “Wow, the puppet got hurt by blitz, shocking!” / “Remember, you’re a puppet, blitz won’t be good for you!”

9. (Overheat) “Hahaha! Looks like you’re burning up!” / “Oil and fire don’t mix! Put that out, quick!”

10. (Shock) “Oh quit complaining, puppets don’t get tired.” / “You look exhausted, give yourself a moment to catch your breath.”

* In a lies playthough Carlo will compliment Pinocchio on perfect blocks, parry’s, dodges, or hits that stagger. In a truth playthrough he will mock and taunt Pinocchio, stating he could do just as good if not better

These prompts are: (Truth / Lies)

1. “Tch. I could’ve done better.” / “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

2. “I’m surprised you were able to pull that off, honestly.” / “Ha! I knew you could do it!”

3. “Come on, break their weapon already, puppet!” / “Their weapon is bound to break soon!”

4. “You call that a hit?!” / “Yeah! Set ‘em off balance!”

5. “Yeah, I can do that too, you aren’t special.” / “Haha! You’re something else, you know that?!”

Notes on Pinocchio:

* His personality remains largely unchanged from the canon game, he is kind, sweet, and a gentleman. That being said, he still gets some traits from Carlo, who will teach him to think of himself and his self worth more often, rather than Pinocchio running off the needs of everybody else 24/7.

* Depending on what playthrough has been done up to that point, he will either spare or kill Romeo, which will either strengthen the bond between him and Carlo or tear a rift further between them. Truth he dies, lie he lives.

* He is aware that Carlo can and is watching him at all times, but only after first catching him in a reflection.

* Should it be a truth playthrough Pinocchio will never speak, nor emote in any capacity, he will be the very definition of an emotionless, mindless puppet. This ensures that Carlo cannot get attached in any capacity.

* Should it be lies he will gradually speak more, though still not often, Gemini will do 90% of the talking for him, but Pinocchio will emote and gesticulate to communicate. This ensures that Carlo will be more willing to talk and attach himself to Pinocchio.

* Romeo’s fate will be the ultimate factor for Carlo feelings towards Pinocchio. Up to this point in a lie playthrough he would have already had minor doubts, but the catalyst for his change in perception towards Pinocchio will be this choice.

* He will also come to see Carlo as his brother.

Notes on Romeo:

* Still very much in love with Carlo, he too has not moved on.

* If spared he will stay at the hotel, where he will gradually be repaired by Gepetto over the course of the game.

* Romeo will remain at the hotel if spared, he is too damaged to leave the hotel, he could cause either Pinocchio or Carlo to be hurt.

Note: should Romeo be spared, he will remain at the hotel and have locations where he will frequent like the other characters.

These locations are:

1. Leaning on the wall next to the record player, if this is the case he will have already put a random record from Pinocchio’s collection on (this cannot happen if Carlo is playing piano).

2. In Gepetto’s room, he will be behind the Organ upgrading station and he will now have his own chair there so Gepetto can work on him.

3. Behind Eugénie’s work station, he will be admiring the display of cat figurines.

4. In Venigni’s corner, he can be found using the machine next to the legion arm upgrade station.

5. Has a 40% chance to be wherever Carlo is (unless he is in Gepetto’s room).

* He will have a cool down timer and item counter, like the Gold Coin fruit tree, should you return to him he will give you random throwable and/or consumables items. He does not state where he was able to aquire them if asked.

* Talking to him can yield a (bad) joke if prompted. He will always find his own jokes funny.

* Romeo can be asked to sing, he is much better at singing and acting than he is at jokes.

Other Hotel Krat Members Thoughts on Carlo and Romeo:

Carlo

Sophia: They were friends in the past and they’re friends now, she sees Carlo and Pinocchio as her younger brothers.

Gepetto: Claims to love his son, but that’s up in the air. He’s been emotionally neglectful towards him in the past.

Antonia: Carlo and Pinocchio are like grandsons to her. They’re both polite and courteous towards her, if she asked Carlo wouldn’t hesitate to help her with something while Pinocchio was out. Carlo will often play the piano for her if she is in the room to listen.

Eugénie: Indifferent towards him, she thinks he is polite enough, but feels Carlo puts on a front so people will think he’s charming.

Venigni: Could be seen as Carlo and Pinocchio’s eccentric uncle. He loves Carlo’s mischivious tendencies, but sometimes thinks he goes to far with them and won’t hesitate to tell him in an effort to reign Carlo back in.

Gemini: Hesitant at first to trust him, but once Carlo actually starts opening up they tease eachother ceaselessly. They’re often heard throwing light hearted insults at each other.

Polendina: Grateful that Carlo doesn’t hesitate to assist or entertain Antonia when he isn’t able to. He doesn’t often mesh well with Carlo’s personality, but as long as he’s nice to Antonia then he’s good in Polendina’s book.

Pulcinella: He is always ready to welcome Carlo as he does Pinocchio. Like Polendina with Antonia, he’s happy that Carlo gets along so well Venigni. Though isn’t always fond of the things Carlo will get into around the hotel.

Belle: They tolerate each other at best, at worst they’re almost getting into physical altercations. At least they would be if Carlo could actually fight her, but he sure does try.

Romeo

Sophia: They’re pretty good friends. Romeo has a habit of running poetry past her, claiming he only wants the best for Carlo. They often talk about books and theatre.

Gepetto: The only reason he does repairs on Romeo is because of the linger threat of Romeo’s knowledge on him. He hopes he’ll be able to somehow keep Romeo from spilling anything.

Antonia: Thinks he is quite the gentleman. Loves to listen to him sing or recite parts of plays, usually alongside an unwilling and hesitant Carlo.

Eugénie: Besties. Romeo loves hearing her talking about her weapon expertise and he especially loves hearing about her cat collection.

Venigni: Constantly running outfit ideas past him, claiming that he would look perfect in this vest or these pants. Should the day ever come when Romeo could properly wear something over all the rough edges and pipes then Venigni would practically make him a model.

Gemini: They tell each other (bad) jokes non stop. It’s horrible, but it’s great they get along so well. Though Carlo probably wouldn’t agree with how many horrible puns he’s heard.

Polendina: Likes hearing about all the plays and shows that would go on at the opera house. He’s a big theatre man, Romeo says if things ever get back to normal he would be happy to have him and Antonia at the theatre for one of his shows.

Pulcinella: Romeo is very interested in the things that Pinocchio will bring back and if he happens to leave said things behind then Romeo will listen to Pulcinella talk about whatever it is for hours. Pulcinella loves his curiosity, and especially loves that him and Venigni can feel Carlo in so easily if need be.

Belle: She hates him and doesn’t make a secret of it, it’s also the reason her and Carlo don’t get along. Thought Romeo will still try to be polite and civil towards her, she only meets him with scorn. She could never trust a puppet and that isn’t about to change. The only reason she doesn’t dislike Pinocchio is because she is unaware he is one.

[layton-npc-appreciation-week]

Layton NPC Appreciation Week 2023!!

I'm so glad to announce that Layton NPC Appreciation Week is back for another year!

The event will run from Monday 13th November to Sunday 19th November 2023

Here are the Prompts:

Day 1: Curious Village/Diabolical Box

Day 2: Unwound Future/ V.S Phoenix Wright

Day 3: Last Specter/ Eternal Diva

Day 4: Miracle Mask/Azran Legacy

Day 5: Mystery Room/Mystery Journey

Day 6: Obscure characters

Day 7: Free day

Thank you to @tea-of-destiny for helping with the prompts!

In case you're wondering, each day is a day to appreciate minor characters from each of the games. You can create anything, from fanart to fanfiction, to moodboards, anything you like. Feel free to check this blog for all the amazing works from last year!

Make sure to tag @layton-npc-appreciation-week and I will reblog every work to this blog. Or you can submit if you prefer.

Please share so as many people as possible can participate!

[hb-writes]

Clowning Around

Summary: Little Charlie (~7 years old) is disappointed to find her brother doesn't think her costume is scary so she kicks the acting up a notch.

Prompt: “You look so cute!” “I’m not supposed to look cute! I’m supposed to scare you!”

Characters: Harvey Specter, Gordon Specter, Donna Paulsen & Charlie Specter

Warnings: Just some references to scary movies and clowns, lack of proof reading. 🙃

Donna set the phone down, heaving a sigh as she looked at the paperwork covering nearly every surface in Harvey’s office.

“Your dad and sister are on their way up.”

Harvey tossed the file he was reading over down on the table in front of him and rubbed at his temples. “They’re early.” 

Donna shrugged. She knew Harvey had told his dad to come closer to 1:00, hoping to get as much time with the documents as they could, but technically, Harvey was late. Nearly a day late.

If this weekend had gone according to plan, Harvey would’ve spent the previous night out in Riverside with his dad and sister. And after bringing Charlie in on the commuter train this morning, he would’ve spent the morning doing whatever his kid sister wanted before heading over to the Halloween dog parade over in Tompkins Square Park.

On paper, the whole thing sounded like a nightmare. Like something Harvey Specter would have no interest in…but he had been looking forward to it. 

He rarely expressed it, but Harvey had always liked Halloween. And something about having a kid sister had made it acceptable for him to like it again. Having a kid sister gave him a reason to go back to Riverside at the end of September to help them decorate for the holiday. And a reason to dress up and go trick or treating. A reason to go to the silly little dog parade his sister had learned about courtesy of an ill-timed news segment. It gave Harvey an excuse to live a little because if anyone asked, he was doing it for his sister. For his dad. 

Harvey tried to help his dad out as much as he could where Charlie was concerned. He tried to do most of the travel, carting his sister to and from the city on the weekends that warranted it because of whatever plans she made with her brothers…so rare was it that Charlie sought their father’s permission, simply informing him ‘Harvey’s taking me here next weekend,’ or ‘I’m going to there with Marcus next month.’

It wasn’t like Gordon was going to say no to Harvey or Marcus being involved in their sister’s life…to being involved in his life...so whenever Charlie told her father there was something planned with Harvey, he just went ahead and called Donna. Confirmed the details with Donna. Swiftly writing whatever off-hand promise Harvey had made to his sister in stone…or at least in his calendar. 

This particular weekend had been in Harvey's calendar for weeks, the type of thing that he hadn’t actually needed reminders about since he was looking forward to it…but that was all before Donna accepted a delivery on Friday at 3 pm—boxes and boxes of documents that took up the entirety of Harvey’s office and a conference room down the hall. 

Harvey didn’t hear the elevator ding, but he could tell the moment his sister stepped onto the floor, the sound of her small footsteps somehow carrying to him all the way in his office. She kept her excitement contained there—using the extra energy to close the space between them because she knew she wasn’t allowed to yell and shout through the halls at her brother’s job. Charlie had seen plenty of her brother’s co-workers yelling so she questioned if it was a real rule, but she refrained anyway.

Just in case.

Charlie waited until she could see her brother through the glass wall of windows before shouting his name and sprinting into a run, maneuvering through the open door and around the furniture to launch herself into his arms. Harvey caught her, leaning back into the chair a bit as he absorbed her momentum, unable to stop his laughter as some of her energy transferred to him. 

“Hey, Charlie,” Harvey said as he pulled her into his lap. “Where’s dad?” 

Charlie stayed pressed against him but lifted one arm, pointing back towards the door.

Harvey chuckled, holding her as their father entered the room, bags of food in hand. Harvey greeted his father and Charlie finally shifted away from her brother’s chest.

“We brought lunch,” she said, nodding towards their father. 

“Your sister wanted to make sure you gave Donna a proper lunch break,” Gordon offered as Donna cleared a spot for him to set down the bags. The look Gordon gave Harvey was clear enough that Harvey knew that their early arrival was in fact Charlie’s idea…Charlie’s insistence.

Harvey was sure the girl had been driving their father mad all morning trying to get them on the earliest train into the city that she could negotiate. He was impressed his father had held out this long.

“You been reading up on Department of Labor laws lately?” Harvey tickled his sister’s side. 

“No!” Charlie giggled as she shot out of his lap, bumping into the table as she tried to get away from him, but Harvey easily trapped her squirming form in his grasp, a facetiously stern eyebrow raised in question. “But Dad said you probably haven’t taken a break all day and I know that’s illegal. In school we get lunch and recess.” 

“Yeah, well, Donna’s not getting recess,” Harvey answered, “But Dad’s right.” 

Neither Harvey or Donna had even considered lunch. Harvey hadn’t even gone home the night before, but now that he could smell the food, he was starving. 

Charlie squealed when Harvey scooped her up and settled her on the table in front of him.Her dirty sneakers narrowly missed Harvey’s leg as they dangled off the table and Harvey shifted back in his seat. He stroked his chin as he looked at her, observing her costume now that he could see her properly. 

She was dressed in some type of brightly colored clown suit, with her hair in pigtails and haphazardly spray-painted in a bright red hue. And her face…her face was painted white with all the accouterments of a clown. All of it a bit smudged from the time she’d spent pressed against his chest. 

Harvey was suddenly glad he’d at some point removed the suit jacket he’d worn yesterday…not that the shirt he was wearing was cheap…far from it, but at least it would be easier to clean. And thanks to Donna stopping by his apartment, he had a change of clothes to switch into. 

“So you really ditched me to be a clown this year?” 

Charlie told him weeks ago that he would have to come up with a costume without her. After years of them matching—characters from Top Gun, The Godfather, and Ferris Bueller—Charlie had informed him she was striking out on her own. She wouldn't tell him what she had planned, just that the paired costumes were out.

“It’s no Sundance, kid—” Butch and Sundance had been Harvey’s suggestion for this year—“But you look cute.” 

Charlie frowned, twisting to scowl at their father before turning back to Harvey, her arms pressed tight across her chest. “I’m not supposed to look cute! I’m supposed to scare you!”

Harvey’s eyes slid from Charlie to their father who shrugged, his hands raised in defeat. 

“Hey, I tried,” he offered as he lowered himself to the sofa. “I’m a musician, Charlie girl, not a makeup artist.” 

Harvey sensed this had already been a discussion between them, that he was late to something, and so Harvey tried to make light of it. 

“Well, I guess clowns are pretty scary,” Harvey conceded. “Especially that Ronald McDonald guy.”

Harvey watched his Dad’s face over Charlie’s head as he said it, the look in his eyes telling Harvey he’d stepped in something. Shit.

“I’m not Ronald McDonald!” Charlie shouted, pushing herself off the table and getting up in his face. “I'm every nightmare you ever had. I am your worst dream come true! I'm everything you ever were afraid of!” 

“You’re Pennywise?” Harvey raised an eyebrow. “Who the hell let you watch It?” 

Charlie shrugged, shrinking back from her brother’s tone—a note of surprise, mostly, but a fair bit of anooyance, too.

She was too young for that sort of stuff as far as Harvey was concerned. Even if some of the stuff he let her watch was a little mature for her…well, that was different. He was just trying to make sure the kid had a solid foundation in quality film, not scar her for life.

“Your brother,” Gordon answered. “She had nightmares for a week.” 

“No!” Charlie argued, shaking her head. “I liked it!” 

“Well, good. You watch that crap with Marcus.”

Because I won’t. Harvey didn’t say it, but horror movies weren’t his thing. Never had been. Not that he was scared. He just didn’t like them. Cheap thrills and crappy production value. Harvey had standards, after all. 

“Marcus said scary movies are good. You just don’t like them because you’re a scaredy cat.” 

“Did he now?” Harvey asked. 

Charlie opened her mouth to continue, but Gordon interrupted. 

“That’s enough, Charlie,” Gordon said. “It’s time to eat.” 

Gordon was amazed that the boys didn’t realize by now that anything one brother said about the other in Charlie’s presence went right back to the other brother.

Or maybe Marcus did realize and that had been his intention. To rile his brother from afar. Gordon could never be too sure. The boys liked to pick at each other just as much now as they had when they were kids. And their sister was a convenient and willing weapon to wield. 

And Charlie and Marcus had been on the phone a few times that week. That wasn’t too out of the norm. Charlie liked talking with her brothers, but from what Gordon had overheard there hadn’t been much talking aside from the two of them reviewing Pennywise’s more infamous lines. 

“But what about my face?” Charlie whined. “Harvey said I’m not even scary!”

“I never said—”

“You said I was cute!” Charlie pouted and Harvey had a fleeting thought that if his sister was hellbent on tantruming all afternoon, that in itself was far more frightening than any costume she could wear. He was about to say something to the effect, about to suggest that she rein in the dramatics, when his dad cleared his throat. 

“How about you come and eat your lunch and we’ll fix your costume when we’re done?”

Charlie hesitated, part of her hellbent on being upset, but Donna stepped closer, leaning down to meet Charlie’s eye. She held out a small paper boat, something she had folded up in the few minutes that Charlie and Harvey had been talking. 

“Did anyone ever tell you that I used to do theater, little chick?” Donna asked. “I can make you look so scary you’ll give your brother nightmares for a month. Go on kiddo, take it.”

Charlie giggled at Donna’s impersonation and took the boat in her hand, a terrifying grin on her face as she turned towards Harvey, any resemblance to a ‘cute’ clown gone entirely even with her shoddy makeup.

Charlie held the boat out to her brother. “You want it, don't you, Harvey? Oh, of course you—”

Harvey scooped his sister up in his arms before she could finish quoting the clown…before it could really settle in how creepy it was…Charlie looking at her brother like that, speaking to him with that voice. As Harvey’s fingers dug into Charlie’s sides, the facade quickly slipped and all resemblance to the dancing clown was wiped away from his sister’s sweet face as she squealed and giggled in his arms. 

“What I want is for you to eat your lunch,” he answered as he plopped her down into the seat at his desk and pushed her in, grateful when she didn’t fight him or start imitating the clown again, and instead digging into the piece of pizza Gordon set in front of her. 

“And next year, no creepy clowns for Halloween,” he said. 

Charlie turned towards him as she chewed on a bite of her pizza, a contemplative look in her eye. “This pizza’s not as good as eating—”

“Alright, quit clowning around. You’re scaring your brother,” Gordon interrupted before Charlie could make mention of the clown’s favorite pastime of devouring children. 

Harvey gave his father a look, no appreciation spared for his pun.

“No, she’s not,” Harvey argued, but Donna and Gordon were both smirking at them. 

“That’s okay, Harvey,” Charlie said, that deeply unsettling smile back in place as she turned to him. “Be afraid. You all taste so much better when you’re afraid.”

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[eleventhhourfactor]

Factor's Mario Fics

Realized that I wrote quite a few fics between this and Luigi's Mansion. Decided to make a sub-post for them that can be found on my pinned post so that when I do get around to posting stories for other fandoms, it's not a massive wall of text right then and there.

Anyway, here are my stories, with most recently released at the top of the list. I'll be using the tag #factor's mario fics to make it easier to find these as well.

Running Interference

Click here to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion, Mario and Luigi RPGs

Daisy and Peasley try to reach Luigi.

The Professor tries to intervene on his behalf.

Nobody can help Luigi when he's in his own head (or so he thinks).

Gifted to @itsavee4117, who was also so kind as to draw art of one particular scene.

So You Were Bitten By Dracula Himself

Status: In Progress

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion, Mario & Sonic, Sonic the Hedgehog

After being bitten by the vampire of all vampires, Luigi has to adjust to the changes that come along with that. Fortunately, the man in green has plenty of allies by his side—friends and family who'll do what it takes to make sure all's well for a bloodsucker.

Another one based on @profbastard's work, this time from the Castlevania AU. Still ongoing, but I wanted to see what could happen after the big battle with Dracula, and the potential a timeline with a bajillion crossovers.

I also miss the Olympic games. Sue me.

Tumblr posts:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

S(t)ealing the Show on Christmas, Of All Days!

Click here to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

Any number of things could happen at midnight. Marilyn Moretti hadn't counted on seals.

Or: a folklore dimension AU where Mario and Luigi become selkies and eventually have to break that news to their extended family.

For @loud-kid2 and their Folklore AU, which now has me obsessed with selkies.

Bowuigi Halloween 2024

Status: In Progress

A collection of short stories centered around the Koopa King and the plumber we all love to ship so much. No particular order; read them how you wish.

Light Reading for a Dark Evening

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: In Progress

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Sonic the Hedgehog, Mario & Sonic

Amy Rose agrees to a tarot reading for Bowser. Her cards turn up quite a few surprises.

Tarot reading couldn't be done with @jayyydez and the Sonic Wikia Zone.

Prompts: bad luck, run/escape, fortune telling, transformation

Nightmares and Days Dreamed

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Paper Mario Series, Mario & Luigi Series.

A nasty curse threatens an eternity of bad dreams to whoever dares to close their eyes.

While Kammy busies herself with a potion, and Kamek does his best to keep Luigi stable, Bowser takes on the task of keeping him calm from the inside.

Prompts: potions, bewitched

Worth a Shot

Click this link to go straight to AO3.

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion

On the night of his fathers' big Halloween bash, Bowser Jr. summons a ghost in an effort to lift Papa's spirits.

The specter he calls upon has other plans.

Prompts: ghost, scream, summoning, costume party.

Out in the Rain

Status: Complete

Fandoms: Super Mario Bros., Luigi's Mansion

Luigi's been acting stranger than usual after a visit to E. Gadd's lab. Mario finds out why while they take a walk in the rain.

Written for @lu1g199's Plant Luigi AU, wherein Luigi gets into a bit of a lab accident that leaves him half-plant.

Another Point of View

Status: Complete

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

After messing with a mysterious artifact, Bowser and Luigi have to seize the day without letting their differences get the best of them.

Done for a Friday the 13th Discord server challenge.

Aftereffects

Status: Complete (for now)

Fandom: Super Mario Bros.

After overcoming a powerful curse, Mario’s left with zero memory of what happened, but plenty of physical reminders that something absolutely did.

Based on @wahooitsamee's Ancient Koopa AU, where Mario's dealing with becoming a half-human, half-Koopa hybrid and the changes and insecurities that come with that.

Part 1: Tarragon, Tails, and Koopa Scales

Click this link to go right to AO3.

It’s been a week and a half since Kamek cast a terrible curse, and Mario’s still having a hard time feeling okay with himself.

What's a kingdom to do except lift his spirits?

Part 2: Literally Lovestruck

TW: sexual content

Click this link to go right to AO3.

It’s been a month since the curse was calmed, but Mario’s still holding Peach out at arm’s length when it comes to bedtime endeavors. What is a Princess to do, then, when her love wakes up feverish and clinging to her for dear life?

Figure out what's going on, of course.

Part 3: Sparks and Butterflies

Click this link to go right to AO3.

Time marches forth for Mario and the Mushroom Kingdom. He's finally marrying the love of his life, getting ready to rule alongside his Princess, and he couldn't feel any better. He's on top of the world and as comfortable as can be with himself.

Then Peach becomes pregnant, and some old fears come roaring back.

Revised on 08/29/2024.

The Fourth and Final Time

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Luigi's Mansion

Luigi takes a terminal spill, and Mario has to pick up the pieces.

Written in collaboration with @giddlygoat, originator of the Ghost Luigi AU.

Tumblr posts:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Enjoy Your Stay at the Last Resort

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Luigi's Mansion

A weeklong stay at a faraway resort would normally be paradise. The idea really loses its appeal when there's ghosts involved.

Post-movie take on a Luigi's Mansion movie, with Luigi teaming up with some unexpected allies to save everyone and trounce the King of the Boos. Loosely based on @profbastard's Syncytium AU.

Off-Hours

Status: Complete.

Fandom: Super Paper Mario

Dimentio's endless interruptions normally keep Team Bleck apart. Throw in some snacks and a bad movie, however, and the jester just might have the stuff to pull them together.

Written for the Super Paper Mario Gift Exchange. Features a work of art by @snakeeyesdraws done for the collaborative nature of the exchange.

[withcameraandpen]

Sondam Week 2024

Here's my entry for day 1 of Sondam Week! I was able to connect each prompt together into one story, so here's chapter one of The Despair Killings. You can also read on AO3 here! Thanks for reading!

Witch Creek, a town nestled in the rolling, pine-covered, fog-soaked hills of Washington state, was drenched in a deathly pall. The air had a dreadful chill, and the sky was always dark and gloomy. The town used to be a cheerful and cozy place, even if the residents weren’t always so welcoming.

Sonia stared out the storefront of her bookshop, a charming nook along Witch Creek’s main street, vacuum in hand. Most of the shops were dead during the nine-to-five, but hers had become a popular after-school spot, with teenagers and parents alike keeping her afloat. But people were coming around less and less lately. No wonder why.

A sleek, black car entered her line of vision, interrupting her doom spiral as it parked across the street from her shop. The car door opened, and out stepped a striking man, tall and so pale that his skin somehow glowed under the cloudy sky. His hair was black with streaks of gray, and his eyes were dark and severe. An earring dangled from one ear, dancing as he crossed the street in her direction.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overcoat, which billowed in the wind as he walked towards her shop. All told, he looked like nothing Witch Creek had ever seen, and yet well-suited to the environment; he looked like the specter of death.

The bell rang as he opened the door. Instead of browsing the shelves as she’d hoped, he instead made a beeline for Sonia. “Good morrow, madame,” he said in a deep, expressive voice. “Do I have the honor of speaking to Sonia Nevermind?”

“That’s me,” she said, switching off the vacuum. “How can I help you?”

He opened his coat, showing off the shiny badge on his belt. “I am Special Agent Gundham Tanaka. I work with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

She deflated. “I knew it was only a matter of time.”

He let his coat fall back into place. “Can you spare a moment? I wish to speak with you.”

“Of course.” She abandoned the vacuum and led him to the back of the store. She had rescued two ratty armchairs from the thrift store to make a reading corner no one actually read in, but occasionally she’d find teenage couples curled up in each other’s laps. “That the nice one,” she said, pointing to the vomit-green chair.

“Then you should take it, my lady,” he said with a sweep of his arm.

Before she could utter a word, he planted himself in the second chair, whose yellow upholstery was stained and whose cushion sagged a little deeper whenever someone sat on it.

A little bewildered, but nonetheless charmed, she sat down and said, “Thank you, Agent Tanaka.”

“I implore you, call me Gundham. Might I call you Sonia?”

“That’s fine.”

He crossed his legs at the knee, his hands folded in his lap. “I am sure you have divined why I’m here.”

Grief filled her like liquid lead. “You know how small towns are about gossip. As soon as one person knew the FBI was coming in, everyone else did, too.”

His head tilted. “You don’t seem nervous.”

“Should I be?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “But this has been my warmest reception by far.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not surprised, either. Most people here don’t take kindly to anything outside of the norm.”

His face softened. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“I had the nerve to sell books about Wicca alongside books about Christianity.” She gestured to her paltry Religion section. Gundham’s head turned; maybe she was imagining things, but did his eyes light up a little? “I only carry one shelf anymore.”

Her Religion section rarely saw any movement across any of the faiths on display. She knew there was no harm in study, but the crushing weight of loneliness became too overwhelming and convinced her to update her stock. “We’re called Witch Creek for a reason. I was just saying to Ibuki –”

The reminder crushed her, sucking the air out of her lungs. There would be no more chats with Ibuki, a teen with loud hair and an even louder voice. To think she had once been so full of life, one of the brightest stars in the world!

Sonia cleared her throat. “We always used to say Witch Creek would make a great tourist town if the locals weren’t so afraid.”

He turned back to her. “What do they fear?”

“Everything.” She swallowed the bitter taste on her tongue. “Foreigners. Free thinkers. Anyone who has the courage to be different.”

Ibuki was a rarity in that she differed from the clean, stable, respectable image everyone wanted, but the town adored her anyway. She had a beautiful voice and intense creativity for songwriting; her parents thought she was destined for fame, so they sent her to arts camps and workshops and lessons. They didn’t like it when she came back with dyed hair and piercings, but they chalked it up to the rock-star image and found a way to tolerate it.

Ibuki was the third victim to die brutally. Her body was found at the bottom of a river, with her backpack and sneakers left on the bridge above it. No one would have thought foul play if her hands and feet hadn’t been bound.

The other two victims died in similarly sadistic fashion, but with different methods. One was bound to his bed while his house burned down. The other was stabbed with one of his own swords. The only commonality the three victims shared was a ritual sigil drawn in red marker somewhere near the scene. For the first two, it had been near or in the house; for Ibuki, it was on the bridge, with her backpack and sneakers placed in the center of it.

Sonia winced. If she never had to see that grotesque image again, it would be far too soon. “I hope you can find the monster who did this.”

Gundham cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “Sonia, I am not your typical criminal investigator. I’ll be working alongside the local police as a research expert. My specialty is occult rituals.”

Sonia went very, very still. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked, her voice traitorously tight. “To accuse me?”

“Hardly, my lady. I’m here to seek your expertise.” He leaned forward. “How much of your own stock do you read?”

“Enough,” she said. “I’m fascinated by the occult, too.”

“Enough to identify the religion to which the sigils at the crime scene belong?”

“It’s hard to tell,” she said, “but when I saw the photos in the newspaper, I’m certain they were from the Despair Sisters.”

The Despair Sisters was an old local legend, and the source of Witch Creek’s name. The Despair Sisters were a cult that popped up when the town was first settled, led by two women whose alleged creed was to ‘sow despair through the entire world.’ Legend said they were two actual sisters, but there aren’t many historical records beyond what their sigils looked like. That was by design: what is known about them is that a pair of sisters were drowned in the river on accusations of witchcraft.

She frowned at Gundham suddenly, a chill running down her spine. “You don’t think these are actual worshippers of the Sisters?”

“Don’t you?”

“It can’t be. It’s just fearmongering, or the killer trying to distract the police.” But no other motive had come up as far as Sonia knew. “Isn’t it?”

“I am not so sure,” he replied. “You and I both know the sigils drawn at the scene are accurate.”

Chillingly so. The only difference was that this killer was drawing them in red marker. According to legend, the Despair Sisters drew them in blood.

“That is what I am here to ask,” he said. “Do you carry books on the Despair Sisters?”

“One or two,” she admitted.

“Has anyone bought one?”

“I don’t think so, but let me check.”

They got up. Sonia led Gundham out to the front of the store just as the bell rang. “Good morning!” crooned a cheerful voice. Kazuichi Soda wove through the bookshelves with a big grin and a to-go cup of coffee in each hand. He hid his dyed-pink hair under a slouchy beanie, and his jumpsuit was covered in grease stains both fresh and old.

Only when he reached the counter did he notice Sonia wasn’t behind it, and turned until he saw them by the back door. “Oh, there ya are!”

“Good morning, Kazuichi.” Sonia walked behind the counter, mustering a weak smile.

Kazuichi stopped short, glancing between Sonia and Gundham. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” She cleared her throat. “Would you mind waiting outside for a moment?”

“No need,” said Gundham. “If you wouldn’t mind printing out your sales records for those books, I can be on my way. Perhaps every copy of those books purchased in the last year?”

“O-okay.” With a few clicks, she printed out the lists and handed them to Gundham. She felt his eagle eyes on her monitor the entire time, watching for any deception on her part. Kazuichi’s eyes were on them both, alert and wary.

“I thank you, my lady,” said Gundham, reaching inside his coat pocket. He produced a business card and handed it to her. “If anything happens, I beseech you to call me.”

“I will.” She plucked one of her own business cards off the stand on the counter and gave it to him. “You do the same.”

“I shall. Good day.” He nodded to Kazuichi and then left the shop, returning to the gloom outside.

Kazuichi spun around to her. “What was his deal?”

She hesitated, but decided the truth couldn’t hurt. “He’s with the FBI. He’s investigating Ibuki’s murder.”

“Wow.” He appeared shocked, but his suspicious frown remained fixed. “What did he want with you?”

“He thinks the killings are connected to the Despair Sisters.”

“How?”

“Please, Kazuichi, I don’t want to talk about it.” The meeting had been trying enough.

His eyes widened, and he offered up the coffees. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Here.”

She picked up the cup closest to her and drank. It was delightfully sugary, and it contained more creamer than coffee, which was exactly how she liked it. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a smile. “You know me. Always need a pick-me-up after therapy.”

“How did you know I’d need one, too?”

She and Kaz had been close all their lives. In their teen years, he entertained a brief but passionate infatuation with her, only to realize she was all too ladylike for him. “I had a feeling you’d need it today. Looks like I was right, huh?”

The rest of the day passed unremarkably. Sonia kept thinking about Gundham: he said he was a scholar more than a crime-fighter, yet he had conducted her questioning all on his own. Did the local police even know he was investigating? To that matter, didn’t FBI agents usually come in pairs, or was that just on TV?

She thought about Gundham all the way to closing time, when thoughts of Ibuki and the other victims crept in as she locked her door. All of a sudden, she preferred thinking about that slick special agent who shared her fascination with the occult, instead of the anguish and fear that now wreathed every memory of Ibuki. Why did she die? Why did any of them? And what would happen to her as she walked to her car at sunset?

She had only got about ten steps away from her shop when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She didn’t recognize the number calling, but she picked up anyway. “Hello?”

“Good evening, my lady,” said Gundham’s voice, though it pulsed with urgency. “I am afraid I have some terrible news.”

She stopped short in the street. “What is it?”

“The man who came to your shop while I was there. What was his name?”

“Kazuichi Soda,” she replied breathlessly.

“I am deeply sorry, but Kazuichi Soda was killed earlier this evening.”