#this is a longer document but it has SECRET LORE in it..

[system-architect]

awkward plex staff photo for his inquest personnel document! yay! (+ flats version of it to make the post layout better lol)

[letsgobarbs]

Part I: An Affair For Research Purposes

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Summary: Convinced your husband doesn’t want you, you turned to Jack for some help. The situation unravels and all secrets come to light.

Rating: Explicit

Content Warning: YOU 🫵 consider cheating on Tim. But you don't at the end. Maybe it's just a little bit of cheating if you squint. Jack is nothing but a plot device here. creepy neighbour alert. Reader has anxiety. voyeurism. mentions of divorce. classism from an unimportant side character. toxic family situations for all. both Reader and Tim are a bit fruity if you squint. arranged marriage. p in v sex. oral f!receiving. loss of virginity. there is an age gap, but even i don't know what it is, go with what you will.

Author’s Note: I was so deep in the Merge Mansion lore for this one. Found out Maddie’s grandpa was a spy or something which made me think of Jack. So, this entire thing turned out way different than what I thought it was going to be. I'm fairly new to both writing and Tumblr so reblogs and comments are always appreciated. This fic exists in my ao3 as well, but I just wanted to practice posting on here. This version is just very very slightly edited. Not even slightly, it’s just re-read and adjusted.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Part II, Part III

An affair wasn’t even that bad. There could be worse things you could do. Like crimes. Crimes were very bad. Pummeling against your neighbour’s door and slamming a brick or a chair or even a vase into his stupid face would certainly be a very bad crime. One the police would be called for. But maybe your husband would finally look at you then. Ooh, that was nice, police, interrogation room, dub-con sex. Nope. Too porn-y. The blank document has been staring at you for the better part of six months and you might as well start tanning from the light of the computer screen with how long you have been despondently staring back. The irregular banging next door was spontaneously disrupted by a very loud groan followed by a noise somewhere in between a high-pitched moan and a whine— both from your neighbour. Very anticlimactic. Leslie had gone through all those efforts to put on some background music to help his thrust game for nothing. Perhaps if he could last longer he’d be able to find his tempo. You would feel bad for him, but the prospect of facing his smug grin tomorrow morning while he makes a pass at you or touches you in the hallway with his somehow always a little slimy hands stomps out any pity you had for him. He had been the very picture of a kind neighbourly gentleman in front of your husband, you had wanted to tell Timothy about his increasingly creepy behaviour towards you, but he hadn’t been home for weeks and you were scared that Leslie had started to notice this detail.

The thought of Leslie knocking on the door when you were home alone was enough to finally send you over the edge into the primordial and ever-existing soup of anxiety that you’ve always fended off to the back of your mind. Your shoulders hunched over in tense discomfort as the feel of your t-shirt became too much for your skin, the leg that had just been restlessly bobbing up and down had started to feel crawling and itchy, your eyes unseeing as the room cluttered around you and the only smell in the air is the stale pizza you had to reheat. What a mess. Not that it mattered since your husband wasn’t going to see it. Tugging on a jacket and a quick change out of the house slippers propelled you to quickly escape your home closing in on you. A walk would help. The crisp fall air helped settle the knots in your stomach as your feet aimlessly carried you through the familiar paths. The apartment complexes gave way to duplexes that led to monotonously uniform suburban homes as you made your way towards the lovely park in the better part of town.

“You didn't show,” Jack called out— Ah, yes, the prospective affair partner. Jack Daniels, the charming Southern gentleman, had shown up in town while you were away at college and taken the upper crust of Hopewell Bay by storm with his booming business and thriving investments, but mostly with his devilishly good looks. You had triumphantly returned with your PhD thinking it would finally gain your father’s appreciation for having made the family proud or society’s acknowledgement and praise. It was all for nought; your father only had a snide comment for you about only studying but never being able to make it in the real world, while his rich neighbours only took your degrees for a hobby. At first, it felt a little unfair, you had worked so hard for the recognition and acceptance of this society while he had it the moment he walked in. But there was very little to be upset over when you gazed into his warm brown eyes. They were like two drops of coffee in a cloud of milk. Jack was a complete dreamboat.

Jack and you had clicked at the Hopeberry festival several years ago when you had shared an incredulous glance over a seafood platter at Mayor Bruno’s derisive comment about poor people and handouts. Speaking of the Mayor, Jack was supposed to be with his wife Victoria tonight for another one of his illicit affairs.

“Don’t see how it could help really. Watching your performances hasn't worked for quite some time now.” You offered him an old explanation for your absence from— one of your usual activities.

“Well, at least it would've helped me. You know I like your eyes on me, sweetheart. I perform better with you watching.” Sweetheart. Those dirty lines delivered in his rich, sweeter-than-molasses voice caused a small twinge low in your belly. Guilt? Shame? Frustration? Anxiety? Arousal? The glob of mixed emotions was effectively washed away as both Jack and you burst into giggles at the precariousness of your situation. Once, you had been caught, literally, with your pants down in one of the clubhouse toilets while Jack had fucked Isabel, an architect who worked with Roddy, over the bathroom sink. The incident had been mortifying, it was worse when arousal had settled into your lower belly. The situation had then snowballed. You hadn't wanted to be a creepy voyeur eavesdropping or watching Jack have sex but he wasn't very discreet with location and you had a very very good reason.

Professionally, you were a science writer, with a steady job writing a column for the local magazine. But the stress of coming back to live under your father’s roof has pushed you to indulge in your secret hobby of writing romance novels. It was easy at first, churning out book after book with ideas that had been lying in your mind for years. Then it was not so easy. Your editor had said that the sex scenes lacked intimacy and that they were slightly repetitive and had an inorganic feel. She wasn't wrong, but porn and erotic literature had failed you. You were running on fumes.

It hadn't been long before Jack’s spidey senses had alerted him to his audience— the man had mighty fine instincts. Surprisingly, Jack hadn't shut you down following a somewhat charged and humiliating confrontation. You had let slip your secret of writing romance and struggle with writing the smut after several profuse apologies. And Jack had invited you to keep watching. He would also routinely help with descriptions and ideas; some of which he would try himself. Until that too had stopped working a few months ago, the creative juices had dried up. After all, how many different ways can you describe sex without having experienced any of it?

“You need to speak with that husband of yours, Sugar. Tell him, in no uncertain terms, that you want more than this marriage of convenience thing y'all got going on. Say you want to sleep with him. Any man would be hard-pressed to deny you that, Honey.” Jack's arm had come around your shoulders as soon as the both of you had sat on a bench, rubbing comforting circles and warmth into your arm.

“Technically, it is an arranged marriage. Also, I don't think I could've been clearer with Tim without utterly abasing myself.” The recollection of your past conversation with your husband still stung, there was a pool of dark, acrid, burning void of ugly emotions that threatened to overtake your lungs and heart. Jack winced, no doubt also thinking of how it had played out, pulling you closer into his warm side with a gentle squeeze to your arms.

For a moment there, a few years into your marriage, you had thought that Tim and you were on the same page that you had liked each other, enjoyed living together and would want to nurture your relationship into a more romantic one. A proper marriage. You had learned how to cook him his favourite meal, candlelight dinners, date nights (that you had explicitly called dates), baking together, late-night movies, cuddles on the couch, and making bucket lists together. When none of that had spurred a romantic conversation about the future of your marriage, you had gone all the way to walking around your apartment in a lingerie set and an old cardigan. Unfortunately, that had sent Tim running from your home.

Tim was sweet, he would never break your heart so callously or openly. He had only said the Boulton's case would keep him busy before he stowed away at the precinct. You felt like such a fool, butterflies in your stomach, as you would look for any excuse to go look for him at work— just dropping by to say hello, was in the area, got some mail for you, wellness checks. You couldn't even remember the last excuse you had used to visit your husband when you had met her. His new partner. Kate Sullivan. Now, you would have loved Detective Sullivan in any other situation. She was this towering goddess with her perfectly large smouldering eyes, her perfect eyebrows, her perfectly shaped nose, and those plump lips that sounded out her perfectly sexy, low, hoarse voice with the barest of lilt in her tone that suggested an accent you couldn't place. She was divine. And she had tried so hard to be nice to you, offering you donuts and coffee. Except, she had joked about you taking some coffee with your milk and sugar, calling the way you took your coffee childlike. Which wouldn't have been that bad, had Tim, your husband, not followed up her quip with a “Which donut would you like, kid?” kid. Kid. KID.

You had wanted to dig up a hole and bury yourself right there. You can't even remember if you had taken a donut. But you remember that message you had received loud and clear. Tim was not interested in you like that. He saw you as a kid. You would get over the fact that he didn't love you, it would be many years, perhaps decades, but you would get over it. But you weren't going to wait around for that man. You wanted to lose your virginity, and you needed that cherry popped yesterday. Jack is the perfect choice, he was your friend, you trust him, he would make it good for you and your friendship would still be unblemished by the incident. Plus, it would pull you out of your smut writing slump.

“Now before you jump my bones, you should still talk to your husband. Sex, is a wonderful, natural, human need. Can't expect you to live without it your whole life–”

“I don't intend to.”

“Then tell your husband that. You want, no, need, sex. There’s only two ways it can go, either he does it himself, or allows you to keep lovers. It’s a win-win, you either get the man you want or you are liberated from the guilt of cheating!”

“I don't want him to feel forced to do it with me, Jack. I want him to want me. Which he does not. And telling him I will step out on our marriage if he doesn't have sex with me feels an awful lot like coercion. I do not want to give Tim ultimatums. Have you considered a third option that comes up in this hypothetical confrontation? A divorce.”

You did not want to divorce Tim. It was left unsaid but Jack knew you enough to pick up on it.

He continued on that unspoken thought, “He will not be divorcing you, Sugar. His family has taken your daddy’s money. If there's any divorcin’ happening, you gotta be the one to do it.”

If it was what Tim wanted, you would grant him a clean divorce, not taking any of the money your father had given his family as dowry. But your heart ached at the very thought of not having him in your life anymore. Honestly, you would take every sexless minute of your marriage with him over whatever carnal pleasure life had to offer without him. You had fallen in love with Tim at the tender age of seven. Your knight in itchy sweater and baggy jeans had found you trying to fill up a broken fountain with your tears because the other kids didn't want to play with you. You couldn't remember any of the inane conversations you had with him, but he had patted your head and wiped your tears before filling up your colouring book with you all afternoon.

You had watched him growing up, nursing your little crush on him with peeks, glimpses and rare exchanges of pleasantries. He always seemed to have endless kindness and patience for you along with his crooked grin that showcased a single dimple. His soulful brown eyes never failed to elicit cosy, tender warmth inside you but it was only after you had married him did you truly learn to love him. All your romance novels carried pieces of your husband, if it wasn't his compassion, kindness, humour or persistence, it would be his broad shoulders, aquiline nose, calloused hands or the scrunch between his brows.

“I don't want to lose him, Jack. You know, I could always write clean romance novels. No sex or smut just fade-to-black scenes. I can do romance without sex. But, there can't be any love or romance without him. He's the hero of all my books.”

Jack had long pulled you into a comforting hug before you had finished your words, “Oh, Sweetheart, I know”—he abruptly interrupted his thought—“Wait, is that your husband walking towards us?”

You turned around to a sight that took your breath away. Tim, your husband, was backlit by the headlights of his car as he strode towards you. His sheer size and the expanse of his shoulders left you speechless. It was ethereal the way the lampposts illuminated your husband’s face with warmth, his skin taking on a gentle bronze tone. He looked rugged in his dishevelled suit and trench, with his scowl and dark eyes hidden behind his black frames.

“Oh that is Timmy and he looks like he's got a burr in his saddle.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I might've found a solution to your marital issues, Darling.”

“Mr Jack Daniels?” Both you and Jack whipped around to face your husband.

“We are going to need you to come down to the precinct, we have some questions for you.”

Tim’s jaw gave a twitch before it clenched, an action you would have found dizzyingly arousing if he wasn't also glowering down at you like you were an offending piece of gum stuck to his shoe.

“Of course, Officer.” It’s detective, you had wanted to correct Jack, but he had already turned to you, handing you a package.

“Here, Sugar, you keep these—”

“You had this the entire time?” You couldn't help but interrupt, you had walked through the park and sat next to him on the bench never once realising he had a bag with him.

“—yes, these are my work shoes. Keep them right by the door, you hear me? So when that creepy neighbour of yours bothers you again he can see the shoes and realise you had a man in the house. Stay safe, Doll”

Jack was already moving towards the unmarked vehicle with a genial pat to Tim’s arm leaving you to shout your thanks at his back.

“How did you get here?” Tim wouldn't look at you even though he had addressed you, glancing at the shoebox in your hand, the bench, the tree, the pond, the lampposts, anywhere but you.

“Oh, um, I walked.”

“Come on, I'll drive you home.”

[yashiro-ism]

Fav Love and Deepspace OSTs

Not ranked, I just listed them randomly; will update when I find more cool ost

So many memories tied to these OSTs, esp the event ones 🥹

Gravity of Spacetime

Its so beautiful bro, I always smile so hard when I hear it and it just makes me so happy 🥹🥹 I always imagine this playing in the background when mc and Foreseer dance in the library under the soft snow

Entwined Shadows

I always listen to entwined shadows when I feel sad cuz it makes me sadder so my original sadness doesn't feel as sad

This was the first multi banner I experienced and I was pretty sad I didn't get Zayne's snowy serenity, because I was f2p back then and only got Raf. I was also in a pretty rushed headspace because I had to get some documental shit done so this event felt like I went by in a jiffy and I couldn't even grind to try for Zayne. I'm kinda still salty about not getting it but I will wait for rerun cuz that's all I can do about it anyways

Lol but besides not getting the card I REALLY wanted, it just sounds kinda sad by default to me. Like again, piano and violin tgth and I'm sold on it. It sounds sad to me because when I hear it, it feels like "after so many life times, in this one, we could share a kiss" if that's not sad then what is

In the Ocean Depths

This one is the definition of ocean/ deep sea. You can NOT tell me it doesn't sound like you're in Lemuria. I don't even know how to describe it, it just sounds like forlon waters which holds millions of memories. They used to have this on Raf's desk/ with him page but then they changed it to the another goofier one (Fish in Hand perhaps?)

Sometimes I go to Raf's falling for you page just to listen to this ost since I don't have the affinity level to unlock the actual ost

Dawn of Heavy Snowfall

If they play this during Zayne's finale my soul will rest in peace for the next 20 lifetimes. The title is so beautiful and so apt for the OST. It sounds so innocent but sad in the beginning but when the violins swell it sounds like "finally, after all the hardships, it was all worth it, we finally made it through, and triumphed over and endlessly looping tragic fate". That ONE part where the violins swell and the strings come on has me levitating man.

I remember crying so hard when I read Zayne's anecdotes, esp the Medic of the Arctic one where this one specifically is from, I soaked my pillow and t shirt and even my glasses were dripping with tears

Beyond Time

I don't see xav romantically as an LI cuz he's not my type but I still really like him as a chara and his lore. When I read his lightseeker myth this ost was in my head rent free for at least a week if not more. It has this "cosmic serenity" vibe to it, sometimes it feels like a fever dream to me

Mysterious Shadow

Sounds really Sci-Fi and gives those classy, sophisticated heist kinda vibes. Well it IS a Sylus ost after all. I stay extra long on Sylus tender moments/ secret times pages just to listen to it for a bit longer

Misty Invasion

Lmfao whenever I listen to misty ost all I remember is how that banner brought out the most desperate and down bad side of me which I never knew. That was the banner that made me start spending on lads. I bought some event packs but I hadn't invested in aurum then so I started getting distressed dreams about not getting the cards I wanted 🤣 most stressful and horny banner so far

It also makes me really nostalgic because this was the last LaDS event I experienced back in the comfort of my own home, my own couch, my own city, my own country, before I had to move to another country for my Master's. Misty really was an era in itself

I also really like the OSTs that play in Raf's Ebb and Flow bond and the one in Zayne's Fleeting Sweetness Tender Moments

Infold needs to put all their OSTs on yt or Spotify or smth. I wonder why they haven't done it yet cuz it would get them a decent amount of money just from us being obsessed with how beautiful the music is

[afconfessions]

Howdy. Personal interpretation anon here (if you somehow still remember me from last Cyalm rant) with MORE unnecessarily long and nonsensical interpretations on Stratosfear this time (:D) because it’s been bugging my head for MONTHS!Q

On the subject of: How much has Cyalm broken Stratosfear?

This is all hypothetical of course so please don’t raise your pitchforks at me.

(Also, to the anon that asked for personal interps, PLEASE reveal thyself and i want to be friends with you!!! Though I have a striking suspicion ik who you are)

Stratosfear has so much potential interpretations because of the LORE that he has! (and anyone who has one, YES, I’D LOVE TO HEAR IT!) To the extent that I am staring at a 10-page long document about this interp so I’ll shorten it down as much as I can… but it’s still pretty long)

Now where do I begin…

I headcanon him having Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or C-PTSD. It is slightly different than PTSD, being instead the result of experiences of prolonged or repeated traumatic events over a very long period of time - which, this is 300 years we’re talking about. And what are those events? Trap Town, end of the line, the time loop(s), Mason’s pointification, fighting his younger, more naive self as Stratosfear, locked in the Stratosphere, being controlled like a puppet.

You get the gist.

Cyalm has, directly or not, abused Stratosfear less on the physical spectrum but more as psychological abuse, both mentally and emotionally via the events above (I’ll give you time to think about it).

For instance, we take a slice of Mason’s pointification event. The Star Savior has done almost the same thing 42 times. He has saved all 80 stars 42 times. And he watched Stratosfear betray himself. 42 times.

The prospect that Maytown is controlled by a malevolent celestial force with the strings of time merely at their fingers wherein Maytown is stuck in a perpetual time loop over and over and over and over and over again, with a destiny of madness and misery caught up in the cosmic cogs that powers another chapter in a cruel and merciless narrative - and yet despite everything all the Maytown folks just go on their day worshipping the Star Savior as if he is capable of saving them, as if he knew what the stars is he doing?

Keeping in such knowledge any longer and even the most secretive of folks would explode. So to not have that result, Star Savior told his dearest, best friend about everything. But he never should have told Mason that he was not fine; that he didn’t love saving people from the demon - the monster - they call Stratosfear, and he never should have told Mason that their fates were already written in the stars. Because what did he lose? Everything. Everything went wrong. Nothing went right. Now, Star Savior had lost everything that mattered to him.

Because then, it was Cyalm that pointified Mason and made him lie in a crumpled heap as the yellow symbol sucked the light out of his mortal life, it was Cyalm that sent Stratosfear back in time to fight himself. It was Cyalm who added Maytown to the next chapter. Worse, it was Stratosfear who was the source of all this suffering.

So that was a long example. I like to think the Stratosphere - Stratosfear’s domain - was his prison where he is trapped in the depths of his deepest, darkest thoughts. It had some cool parkour (iirc), but overall it was dark. It was very dark indeed, where his new world was painted n black and red hues. Where he was given to do nothing but think. Think about things that came from the bottom pits of the memories that played the previous events. Think about what he had done to Mason. To everyone.

For the next 300 years.

THREE. HUNDRED. FREAKING. YEARS.

That’s 109,575 days, 157,788,000 minutes and 3,155,760,000 head bonks against the wall! (i hope i got the math right or i am really cooked)

It was just practical hell for him!

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED on him getting CONTROLLED LIKE A PUPPET by Cyalm! SURE, Stratosfear had his whole life and mentality ruined, but the remains of what he treasured were the freedom of movement! This? Cyalm had intentionally (maaaaybee) robbed away every. single. piece. of freedom that Stratosfear once had.

Everyone in Maytown had hated him for the monster he secretly was. With 300 years in the Stratosphere, his own mind seemed to twist into a form of self-hatred. Now? With Cyalm in control, every part of his body - from the fringe of hair to the scratch at the end of his foot - had turned against him. There was nothing to let him scream his helplessness at. No one to talk to; Cyalm had learnt Their lesson.

And so has he.

And if you aren’t convinced that Cyalm had broken almost every single scrap of sanity and mentality he had, I don’t know what will!

(good lord, i must’ve gone off my rocket there)

On another note, I have read once or twice (a conversation from source where I forgot 💀), they were discussing on the topic of how’d Stratosfear react if he saw Cyalm again in his post-shattered form. The replies were generally anger - like, intense anger at Them, or absolute hatred. I heartedly agree, especially with the latter. But I also disagree. Personally I think that this is not his main emotion, instead it would deviate as the lesser and smaller emotion (and this is highly subjective, don’t take it personally)

A stark reminder (and in my defense): his abuser is a literal GOD. As said earlier: Cyalm was the one who turned Mason into Anshine and wiped out his memories. Cyalm created the new world for Stratosfear, something much worse. Cyalm had been the malevolent force behind Maytown. Cyalm had twisted Stratosfear’s life into something of prolonged suffering that could last indefinitely if They wanted to. Cyalm breathed the words of inevitability onto Their paper and it turned out just the way They wanted… almost. Basically, Cyalm has pure and divine control over Stratosfear’s everything and anything.

In the place of hatred, it would be the intense fear that Cyalm would whip up something brutally punishing and effective the moment Stratosfear stepped out of line - They’d done that to Mason and pointified him. It would be fear that Cyalm would gladly and without hesitation hurt the people Stratosfear loved… loves… and would force him to watch. Fear that he’d be under the supreme control of Cyalm where even his mind and soul obeys Their every command. And fear that Cyalm was the one who breathed immortality onto Stratosfear - withdrawing the beautiful luxury of death - that with such omnipotence and Godliness that Stratosfear is a mere slave standing before the creator of the world and suffering that now he lived in.

Hypothetically - and hypothetically of course - it was not anger, or even hatred that stood in place first: it would be fear. Cyalm manipulating the fear They had instilled in Stratosfear, in everything They say may, and very possibly, can be turned into reality. Mason has already died and been rebirthed. Maytown had died. Stratosfear died in his own way, brought back to the world scarred and absolutely shattered. 

Anyway, this is long enough already so I’ll end it here. But then, with all that’s being said, I haven’t quite dug deep into the psychological wounds Cyalm had done that had, quite metaphorically and literally shattered him.It brings up another question: How much will it take to fix him?

I am SO SORRY to the admin that had to read this. Anyway, good day.

DONT BE SORRY???? WHAT THE PSYCH EVALUATION??? (mouthwashing reference) HELLO? - ⁉️

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks to @emabatis here, @buffythevampirelover here, and @the-golden-comet here!

My words: crouch, finger, seat, written, hurt, sky, green, hello, are, friendly, jest, ardent

Your words: activate, survive, error, land

Tagging @riveriafalll @bookish-karina @songsofsomnia @drchenquill @diabolical-blue

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

Keep reading for:

Robbie and Akash (and Ariel) find the portal

Mrs. Moon is a bit creepy

William makes a discover

Lore on chronokinesis

Maddie makes a good point

Lexi and Ash in the Gateway

Meet George

Lexi has everyone's schedule memorized

Rose makes a guess

Jedi is friendly

Robbie's eyes

Crouch(ed) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Robbie POV)

“Do you think you did this?” “What?” “I mean, you did something weird in the hall with Jason, right?” “Yeah, maybe, if that was me.” “How could it not be? I mean, you launched him across the hallw—oomph!” “Sorry, Ariel hit a rock, I think.” I crouched down to examine the rock. “Sheesh, that’s a big one.” I pressed my hand against it. “Smooth, too.” I furrowed my brows. “Hm.”

Finger - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

As we walked toward the commons, I told Ash about my conversation with Ms. Moon. “That’s weird,” Ash said once I finished, fiddling with the ring on her index finger with her thumb. “And low-key creepy. Why’s she prying into our personal activities?”

Seat - from The Secret Portal Part One

Atsila hung up and William turned back to the bubbling chemicals. He jumped in his seat. “No way….” He grabbed the flask and examined it closer. Suddenly giddy, he turned to the snakefly behind him. Gingerly, he tilted the flask and allowed a drop of the chemical to drop on the insect’s wings. William opened the tablet and began recording.

Written - from The Secret Portal Part One

The best theorists speculated traveling to the future was impossible, as it would take the chrono out of the past, disrupting history’s natural flow. On the other hand, if a chrono could travel back into the past, they could theoretically cause a paradox that unraveled their plane of reality. This was why immediately after the discovery of chronokinesis, a law was written for APTA to give a serum that prevented the ability to travel through time. This did not render the chronos Inutil, however. Some sub-powers had been discovered in the only couple hundred cases that had been documented.

Hurt - from The Secret Portal Part One (Noelle POV)

Maddie ran her tongue over her teeth. With her braces, I wasn’t sure why she kept the habit up; it would probably hurt. “I’m not sure what I buy. But we fell through a tunnel made of rainbows. I think having powers wouldn’t be too surprising.”

Sky - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

The sun that had been burning in the late afternoon was no longer casting a deathly heat paired with Houston humidity. In fact, looking up, the burning mass seemed to be missing, despite the sky being a soft periwinkle.

Green - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

Carla and a taller, older boy were sitting on the larger couch. The boy—or maybe young man—held what appeared to be a granola bar in his hand, out of a wrapper. A world of dragons and portals and they still have regular food? On the table in front of him sat a plate with other unwrapped granola bars set on top of it. Jeez. He wore earrings and a red beanie-like hat with a green fringed jacket over an orange crewneck. His bright blue eyes against his skin tone reminded me of Maddie. Based on the state of the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if these two lived alone.

Hello - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

“Gwen has science, Rose: art, and Noelle has… math,” I answered. “How do you know these things?” Ash asked as she rolled the sleeves up of her red flannel. “Like, you have everyone’s schedule memorized!” “Pfft, no I don’t.” I waved hello to Julian Austin as he ran by. “Really? What’s Julian’s fourth period?” Ash asked. I pushed open the door with my shoulder, pausing briefly to think. “Gym.” “See?” Ash pointed out. “What can I say? I’m observant,” I said as the exhaust from the buses caused my eyes to water.

Are - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

“The wall ended up being a portal or something that led here. What if this is the same thing?” Gwen’s eyebrows shot up. Her drumstick stilled. “A portal? Rose, I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” “Yeah,” Rose responded, shrugging. “Lexi and Ash must’ve stumbled upon it.”

Friendly - from The Secret Portal Part One (Noelle POV)

“What does this mean?” I asked, gesturing at the screen. “Telekinesis?” “Precisely,” said Dr. Moon. “I see we have some perceptive ones,” he added with a glance at Maddie and a friendly smile. He turned back to me. “Not a common power, but not rare.”

Jest - from The Secret Portal Part One (Akash POV)

Not to mention, they accented his eyes. “Black like a black hole,” Chailey Smith had said in sixth grade science. “They have a gravity to them, pulling you in.” She’d caught me looking at her, turning away from her friend Amber. “Does he get that a lot?” I’d lost track of how many times I’d overheard other students fawning over that attribute. I have dark eyes, too! But apparently they didn’t have a gravity that drew everything in to its death. “Yep,” I’d replied. “That exact metaphor, too,” I’d added in jest. Chailey had given me a weird look. Then she’d gone back to Amber, talking in a quieter voice.

Ardent - N/A

[8bitsupervillain]

Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 7 Minagoroshi pt. 10

Come to think of it, this is probably the most emotion we've seen Rika display in any of the arcs up to this point. Also, this section shows that Shion Sonozaki might actually be dumber than Keiichi.

I wonder if Japan has a fundamentally different interpretation of what a witch is compared to your more traditional European style witch? Or maybe I'm just woefully out of touch in that regard and the idea of a witch being basically immortal is the more commonly accepted idea.

Hanyuu and her nice new bag of I told you so's. Now, I know I've said this before in regards to the characters in the past, but Rika is such a dramatic child. She suffers one singular misfortune and she writes off all of her accumulated good luck as just gone forever. I'm not saying she's wrong for feeling that way, I'd be lying if I said I never experienced days where if one single thing went wrong I would start thinking everything was ruined forever. I'm just saying she's been such a rather optimistic character lately that this change to complete and utter defeatism is kind of darkly funny.

If Rika gives up and loses her last shreds of hope and becomes something that's no longer Rika, does that mean that Hanyuu was born from a similar situation? They've said multiple times that she's existed for a lot longer than Rika, so was Hanyuu formerly a human? I don't know if that's the case at all, but it's a fun little thought experiment I think.

Skipping ahead a little, Rika goes to school the next day in the vain hopes that Satoko will be there as well. When she's not she let's her despair takes over and starts being Rude Rika, telling Chie to shut up and she's going home. Chie then takes this thoroughly morose Rika to the teachers office and gets the skinny from Rika about how Teppei has come back and is basically making her life a living hell.

The rest of the main cast eavesdrop and overhear about Satoko's situation.

Say what you will about Keiichi, and I have, at length, and will again. But at least when he decided to plan, and then carry out a murderous plot he at least had the good sense to not scream it out loud in front of witnesses. Sure, everyone knew anyway because despite the idea that people remember the past arcs has only really become a thing as of Tsumihoroboshi everyone somehow knows everything everyone has ever done in this series.

Wanting to put a delay on Tatarigoroshi: Shion Edition Chie drives off to Satoko's home. Would Tatarigoroshi: Shion Edition give her the ability to kill people with her mind, do you think? I think it would. Anyway, she arrives at Satoko's house and is immediately screamed and shouted at by Teppei. Upon being yelled at that yes she's here, no you can't see her, she's just sick, trust me Chie goes back to the school.

Shion rants and raves at Chie's uselessness in this scenario and once again talks about "come on guys, murder!"

Rena proves once again to be the brains of this outfit, because honestly, if you're gonna kill the guy just do it, don't yell and scream about it. Shion decides the next logical course of action is to beat anyone who gets in her way with a chair. Which she does. She smacks Keiichi around with the chair until he convinces her to quit giving him brain damage and to calm down for a second.

Something that I like so far in this chapter is the fact that the TIPs are back to being more than just documents. I recall in chapter one the TIPs would have these extra documents yes, but it also had scenes like Rena and Mion talking secretively about how Ooishi is a servant of Oyashiro and the like. Then up until Minagoroshi here, the TIPs were all just extra lore building documents. So it's neat to see them go back to extra scenes and actions outside of the main narrative.

I'm trying to be more upfront with what I like so far with this chapter, because in very short order I won't have much positivity about it. Once the narrative switches back to Keiichi as the viewpoint I had a pretty miserable time of it, up until it switches back to Rika's perspective.

[scarletfawn]

Asher; child of bhaal

CW // blood, guts, small child experiencing bad things, dead animal, overall pretty dead-dove-do-not-eat

I was struck by the desire to write some of the lore I've been microwaving in my head for my dark urge dragonborn, Asher. Dark Urge by nature has some pretty gross, fucked up themes so please be cautious and mind the warnings.

Also, I am not a writer by any stretch of the imagination.

--

As an infant dragonborn, Asher is first adopted to two lovely Dwarven parents who are immediately smitten with him. His early childhood years are happy, marked by expected milestones - first words, first steps, lost teeth, birthdays celebrated with cake and candles. However, as a dragonborn with two Dwarven parents, Asher is quickly made aware of the atypical nature of his family. Children would stare and point only to be quickly shuffled away by their parents, whose eyes would linger on the odd little family, casting silent judgment. For most of his early years, the awkward attention would just make him sorrowful and huffy and he'd run to his parents to console him. His mother would stroke his head with soothing, calloused hands, offering kind reassurance to her son. Time passed, as it always does. 

By age seven, Asher begins to experience “episodes” - one moment he'd be playing as any child does, the next he'd see nothing but red, everyone's bodies turned inside out, his own hands appearing completely flayed and raw. Blood, muscle, sinew. His mouth would start watering. And then he'd snap out of it, as though it were nothing more than the gentle passing of a summer breeze. He bottled these horrors up, wedging the cork so desperately tight lest his visions threaten to slither and leak from his skull. The only mention Asher would make of these changes were documented in a leather-bound journal he had been gifted when he first learned to read and write; a vessel for thrilling tales of heroic adventurers and their good deeds, penned by the scribbly, excitable hand of a child. He would often make accompanying drawings, some spanning multiple pages, all of them colorful and representative of an active childhood imagination. The earlier years of Asher’s life were recorded boldly and loudly, as is a child’s way. But darkness began to seep in from the corners. He allowed himself just this one outlet, this ugly secret quietly kept between himself and the yellowing pages of his journal. 

By age eight, the waking nightmares would get more frequent . These thoughts in his head became even more sinister as Asher began to recognize the faces of the tormented. Friends he played ball with, the local grocer woman, church acquaintances, but perhaps most disturbingly - his adopted mother and father. These thoughts were still blurred around the edges, the faces a little too smudged to be proper resemblances. But they were becoming clearer by the day.

By age nine, his thoughts were nearly entirely consumed by his bloody fantasies. He socialized less and less and became more withdrawn, often stealing away to his bedroom to write and draw in his journal. The entries no longer depicted the fanciful whimsies of a child; the passages were harried and dire. Desperate. Frightened. Red ink smeared the wrinkling pages. 

Eventually, it became too much for him to bear on his own. Afterall, he was still only a nine year old child. He went to his parents for comfort. He told them everything but spared some of the more gory details. The concern on his mother and father's faces was unmistakable and Asher felt like a monster from one of his stories. He asked them why this was happening - did he do something to anger the gods? Was he being punished for a crime he wasn’t aware he had committed? His parents did not know what to tell him but they did their best to comfort him and offer pacifying words, promising that they'd take him to see a healer who could put his mind at ease. He was young, his brain was still developing; he did not have to become the monster in his head. His mother took both of his hands into her own and kissed his knuckles. 

That very evening as Asher lay in bed on the cusp of sleep, he heard a faraway voice telling him that he is loved and that he is perfect, just as he is. The voice advised against seeing a healer as there was nothing wrong with Asher. In fact - the voice urged - Asher should embrace these new dark delights. Didn't they make him feel good? Make his mouth water and his teeth itch with anticipation? It was exciting! A dirty little secret he was keeping all to himself. There was nothing wrong with him... You are special, that faraway voice cooed in his ear.

And Asher was special, wasn't he? He was good at running and fighting with wooden swords, he did decently well in school and had friends to play pretend with. He was small for a dragonborn boy his age but he never let it get to him, even when schoolyard bullies tried to make him feel bad for it. Afterall, his parents were shorter than average too weren't they? And they were the toughest people Asher knew. He didn't view his small stature as a flaw. You are special, that voice would whisper softly and Asher began to believe it.

Asher was several months into his ninth year when the gently urgent voice in his head coaxed him into doing something unspeakable. He had just gotten out of school and it had been a terrible day. The bullies were getting worse, more bold, their pestering turning physical; grubby, sticky hands would pull his tail and yank his horns. The teachers pretended not to see. 

As Asher took towards home he decided to dip into the nearby forest to cool off in the river that was just beyond the treeline. He approached the river but stopped in his tracks, his attention diverted to the sounds of gargled yelps and oddly human-like screams originating from a nearby bush. His curiosity piqued, Asher scrambled through the branches and found an adult rabbit with a dreadful gash sliced across its ribs. Its eyes were milky and a foul stink of oncoming death drifted under Asher’s nose. It was clearly still alive, though just barely. Asher focused on it with intent, both delighted and horrified by the pained sounds the poor thing was making. Without a further thought, he knelt down next to the dying rabbit and slid a finger across the jagged wound in the animal's abdomen. Asher brought his bloodied finger to his lips and flicked his blue tongue across his skin. His eyes widened. It was as though a fire was spreading from that single point of contact where his finger touched his tongue, blazing down his neck, across his back, scorching his arms and legs. His heart began to pump loudly in his ears and then - that voice. The Urge.

 DEVOUR IT

Panic rose somewhere underneath the raging inferno that boiled his blood and Asher desperately held his palms to his mouth, bile rising in his throat. But despite the alarm and the metallic tang of fear on the back of his tongue, his stomach growled. He lowered his hands from his mouth only to find that he was drooling, rivulets of saliva cascading in delicate strings through his pointed teeth and down his chin. The world blackened at the edges and Asher felt his body pull closer towards the rabbit as though the small furry body was the source of all the world’s gravity. Time ticked by in snapshots until Asher was cradling the broken body in his hands.The next moment was silent, save for the wet sounds of Asher ripping and tearing, gnawing and grinding, utterly voracious and desperate to reduce the dying animal to offal in his guts.

As Asher sucked the last remnants of marrow from the rabbit's femur, his teeth cracking off small bone fragments to grind to dust in his jaws, his head began to clear. The first sound that broke through the deafening silence was the rush of the river. At first, Asher couldn't distinguish it over the rush of his own pulse but his boiling blood soon began to simmer until, once more, he was himself. He sat on his knees wide-eyed and silent, his bloodied hands limp in his lap. The cracked and chewed femur was the only remaining proof that there had been a rabbit at all. Asher stifled a yelp and tossed the bone into the trees before scrambling to his feet and stumbling towards the river. He wanted to vomit but all attempts ended in failure - the rabbit had made his guts its final resting place. Asher gulped handfuls of river water to cleanse the iron sting clinging to his taste buds but no amount could rid the taste completely. He looked down at his hands and saw that his pearlescent scales were stained a scarlet hue and he hurriedly grabbed a piece of moss to scrub the grime away. 

By the time Asher had cleaned himself up to the best of his ability, the sky was already darkening. His parents would surely question his whereabouts. He picked himself up and resolutely strode out of the woods, determined to forget the horrors that had just transpired. 

The voice in his head spoke, Magnificent. I am so proud of you.

But he didn't go hungry. As he lay in bed and idly rubbed his full stomach, a soft thrum began simmering across his nerves, setting his body awash in a warm, delightful haze. After a long while, he finally slept and dreamt of screaming rabbits.

As he trudged quietly back home, Asher pounded at his traitorous skull, willing himself to focus only on the dull throb. If his mind threatened to conjure the memory of the rabbit, his fists battered his head until the image grayed and faded. Asher was scared, confused, desperate for answers... Why was this happening to him? Who did the voice belong to? He wanted so badly to confide in his parents but his mouth couldn't form the words. His tongue tied itself into knots as he attempted to force truth from his throat. His own voice betrayed him and he had no excuses to offer when his parents ran to him with panicked questions. After a well-deserved scolding from his mother, Asher was put to bed without supper.

[winterburnwriting]

Introducing Myself and Winterburn

Hello! My name is Quinn. I am creating this blog as a place to post updates about the novels I am writing. Hopefully I can post here at least every month or so outside of working on my novels. I have yet to finish one, but I got about 40-50k words into my first attempt prior to scrapping it and starting over. That one has been in the outlining phase for quite a while but it's on the backburner while I work on a more attainable short novel.

You see, I have been working on my primary novel for 5 or 6 years, and while I am extremely excited to get back to work on it with everything I have learned and cultivated since my last attempt, I also want something to show for my time spent writing. The worst thing about being an aspiring writer is when people ask to see my works. I don't really have anything complete - Let alone anything I'm proud enough of to share.

I have a lot of old documentation for my primary novel, as I have done more planning than writing for it, and I might share that over time but more than anything I want to focus hard on my short novel right now so I can get it out of the way, so to speak. I decided not to plan it out too much at risk of it entering development purgatory just like my other project, so I'll be sharing more live updates about the progress.

My primary novel is a postmodern urban fantasy (fluffy words, aren't they?) set in a fictional town in Vermont in the mid 2000s. It follows a couple of teenagers uncovering fantastic and terrifying secrets about their small town that lead to places they never imagined. All of this with an Ancient Greek flair.

My short novel will be a bit more cliché and silly, as it's going to be a vampire revenge story! I have big plans for another, more serious vampire novel someday, but for now I wanted to write about something I thought would be fun. So far I have written about 4k words out of my goal of around 45k. The end result may be a little longer or a little shorter than that. it does take place in the same world as my other novels will, and is set in the early 2000s, though it likely won't connect very much.

There are other novels in the works as well, with a total of 4 novels and 2 short novels in mind at the moment. I do have ideas for some bite-size short stories, too, if ever I want to break up the release of major novels a bit more. The idea is to release the short novel, then the primary novel, then 2 more novels set parallel to that novel, then a big novel the events of which follow the other 3, and then a short novel telling something of a prequel story.

If and when I ever get that far, I am sure I will have many more ideas for what will follow. That's not much of a concern right now. I just wanted to share what my road map looks like so you all know, and partially so I can hold myself accountable to it. It is easy to lose sight of the series in the pursuit of a debut work.

One of the main things I am hoping to do with this blog is develop the world of my novels. You might see little fiction pieces in here, just as a way to flex my short-term story muscles a bit and get tidbits of lore online. I also want to post design documents if I can. I have quite the backlog.

I hope this blog continues and succeeds, and if you are reading it I hope it brings you interesting ideas and stories to enjoy. If I have kept it up for years and you are reading this, congratulations! Your scroll wheel can rest now. Take care!

[ganondoodle]

i dont think i ever posted these here so uh, someone on twitter wondered if theres a yiga clan member having a mask with two horns since kohga and suppa (sooga) have 3 and 1 on each side; and of course i came up with lore for them-

if you remember my yiga lore master kohga was actually a monk from 10 000 years ago that experimented with malice on himself, making him near immortal; now this one (their name is master ramuda) was also from that time frame but a scientist, and went on to be the second founder of the yiga clan alongside kohga after the royal family turned on the sheikah. ramuda was doing research on malice while koh handled everything dangerous

they were both no strangers to doing risky experiments and ramuda was the first one to bind malice into tattoos to harness its power while safely containing it and thus not corrupting the host; however, as it goes with risky experiments, they can turn out to be a failure even after seemingly working out; the malice wasnt bound with enough seals and started to break out of the tattoos but ramuda kept it secret

believing themself capable of going out on their own, now that they have harnessed some of the malices power, to try and find a solution, which included trying to secure lost sheikah documents that may be still in hyrule castle, but while they sneaked around they found the perfect opportunity to act revenge on the royal family

and thus ramuda assassinated the king. successfully, for the most part, as they were caught by the ancient princess who immediately shot them with a sacred arrow right through the head

but they didnt go down.

ramuda is not quite alive, as all they do is stand perfectly still in one place while malice is eating the body away (see the first image) but not quite dead either

(after .. all that happened, kohga continued ramudas research, and later combined technology and techniques from his knowledge as a former monk to 'perfect' the seals that bind the malice within the tattoos and did the experiment on himself as well in order to live longer and perhaps, one day, find a way to bring them back)

and yes thats a summary of what i came up with for a poor twitter user asking the simple question of "kohgas mask has 3 horns on each side, soogas has 1, i wonder if theres one with 2" back in february

[primofate]

Smile for Me (Part 1) Zhongli x fem!reader

Summary: Zhongli never smiled at you the way that he smiled at his memories of Guizhong. Thinking that the only way Zhongli would ever be happy is for Guizhong to come back again, you secretly set off on a journey to bring her back to life. But it comes with a price: Your life.

Warnings: pining, angst, one-sided (at first), hurt, angst again, drama, some Guizhong x Zhongli, hints of Xiao x reader, MAY NOT FOLLOW THE ACTUAL LORE.

Read: (Part 2)  (Part 3)  (Part 4)  (Part 5)  (Part 6)

“Xiao, I’ve been serving Rex Lapis for a little less than you have...” You stand at the rooftop with your companion, the both of you watching as the people below, looking like ants, flit in and out of Wangshu Inn. “...and I know that he misses her. Every day,” 

There’s a silence between the two of you. The only sounds for a moment are the hustle and bustle of people, the distant shouts of kids playing tag. “...It does not change the fact that Guizhong is gone. What do you wish to accomplish?” Xiao asks, eyes piercing you in a rather accusatory way. 

You shift under his gaze, eyes travelling up to look at the horizon: mountains towering over the skies. “...There’s a legend about Wuwang Hill--” Xiao cuts you off before you can finish, “Wuwang Hill is a place of lost souls, Y/N, you cannot trust what you hear about it,” 

And just like that, you shut your mouth. You love Rex Lapis, and it was not the kind of love that the people of Liyue had for him. It was the kind of love that had your thoughts spinning out of control, your mind paralyzed with the image of him and your heart accelerating at the sight of his smile. 

At this point it must have been an open secret. Xiao knew. Verr Goldet knew. Hu Tao knew. Perhaps even Ningguang knew. It seemed that everyone knew. Except Zhongli himself. Or perhaps he did know. Sometimes you did get the sense that Zhongli knew but he... he must have been in love with her still. Her. Guizhong. 

“...Do not attempt anything reckless, Y/N,” Xiao warns, crossing his arms.

You smile a little at his concealed worry. “No promises,” you merely chuckle to which he just sighed to. 

“Y/N,” You hear Zhongli call out for you, just as Xiao drops to one knee to acknowledge the presence of Rex Lapis. “There’s no need for that, Xiao,” Zhongli says, but Xiao doesn’t listen and keeps on his knee. Zhongli knows it’s useless to try and coax Xiao out of the habit when you yourself still called him-- “Master Zhongli,” you bow a little and approach his side. 

Of the 1,500 years that you spent serving Zhongli, the last 500 had been spent as his so-called personal assistant. Running errands for him, keeping Liyue safe and communicating with the people of Liyue to see if there was anything amiss. 

“Just Zhongli, Y/N,” Really, he thought. He reminded you nearly every day about that and you still couldn’t get out of the habit. He didn’t think the ‘master’ title was necessary, seeing as he really wasn’t the Archon that he was before. “Let’s head back,” Zhonglis says, and turns around to start walking. You wave your hand briefly towards Xiao and follow behind him. 

“Zhongli, I’m afraid I have some errands to run later today. Sir Baizhu has requested my assistance to gather some herbs,” Zhongli turns his head towards you, face rather stoic. But you’ve been with him long enough to know that the look he’s giving you is one of curiosity. “Baizhu? From Bubu Pharmacy?” Zhongli asks.

“Yes, it would seem he’s having trouble collecting some herbs.” Zhongli goes back to walking in silence. He found it a little odd, how Baizhu would ask you for help instead of the Adventurer’s Guild. “Not to worry, I’ll accompany you back to Liyue before I head out again. Wouldn’t want you to be lonely on the way back,” You joke. Your hands meeting behind your back as you stretch your neck forward to catch the expression on Zhongli’s face. He chuckles a little at your statement. “Yes, that would be nice,” and you only smile wider as the two of you walk in comfortable silence. 

There was no request from Baizhu. You had lied through your teeth, and you had a feeling that Zhongli knew. There was no getting around that guy. He who had lived for 6000 years had all the experience about deceit and deception. 

That night. You went to Wuwang Hill. You presented yourself to a particular tree. Legend has it that the tree had the power to raise the dead...but one would have to actively seek the tree out and the price to pay was... “Your body, your soul and your existence,” You stood in front of the glowing tree, shrouded in a blue light. 

“My...existence?” 

“Everyone will forget about you,”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone.”

“Guizhong...” It was a particular night that you woke up, and as you were making your way to the pantry to get some water, you had heard him talking to himself. “It’s been some millennia since I last saw you, and yet...” he pauses here for a breath. “And yet I remember everything as if it was yesterday,”

“...Alright, I’ll do it, what do you need?” “Any object that once belonged to the person you wish to raise from the dead,”

“Do you like it?” Your head snaps around. Zhongli was standing at the entrance of the abode. You were sifting through documents in the living room, and had somehow stumbled upon a fa-zan hairpin. It was an elaborate hairpin. Intricate and elegant, with a purple lotus flower as its main design. You picked it up gently. What was something like this doing in a man’s house, you wonder. “It belonged to an old friend,” Something about the way he says ‘old friend’ makes you think that she was something more. “...I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, if I gift it to you,” You stare at it for a moment longer, and put it back into the beautiful box it was in. “...I couldn’t possibly take something so beautiful,” and had never touched it since then. 

“Well, young one? Will you accept the terms?”

“...Yes, I’ll be back with it tomorrow,”

In the dead of night as you travel back to Liyue, memories of the past 1,500 years flitting around in your mind...You can already feel that being forgotten was worse than death. 

Watchu think guys? Feeling in such an angsty mood these days. 

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[ayamari-no-goshi]

Can you share the lore of your cursed ancestor? Has there been anything historically or recently that happened that have curse vibes or have been attributed to the curse? I’d love to hear more about this!

So my dad’s mother’s family is not only old, but well documented. Through her side, I’m a descendant of the Fitzgeralds. Oh boy are there are weird legends surrounding them, and it’s hard to get some of the specifics on the legends in the US. I know the Welsh side has some legends too, but I’m not even gonna try with that due to how convoluted that section of the family tree is.

Please keep in mind, I don’t know if my branch of the family (which no longer carries that last name) did something in the US that worsened whatever bad juju was accumulated or we just somehow concentrated it.

With that out of the way, buckle in, this is gonna be a longish post

Firstly we have John Fitzgerald (1st Baron of Desmond). He was called “the ape” because his grandson was “rescued by such a creature.” I’m as stumped as anyone else on that.

Gerald FitzMaurice Fitzgerald (Gearóid Iarla) the 3rd Earl of Desmond mysteriously disappeared around the shores of Lough Gur, a lake with its own legends. In tales, Gerald had a romantic relationship with the Goddess Aine, who is sometimes called the mother of the Fey. Legends vary on how consensual it was.

In the legends where it was a more loving relationship, Aine has him sleeping under or near the lake where he’ll rise again to assist Ireland regain glory. In legends where their relationship wasn’t great, she cursed him to wander the shores of the lake as a ghostly horseman every 7 years. I should also mention one legend has him transformed into a goose and disappear in the river Maine. But there’s also a legend he and his warriors are in a suspended state near an old fort called Hacklim.

Now, this one is unclear. It could be in relation to the 3rd Earl of Desmond or a later Earl in the same family with the same name. He was rumored to be a magic practitioner. The legend goes his wife wished to know an arcane secret. Gerald, who deeply loved her agreed on the condition she didn’t make a noise during the rituals needed. She did eventually cry out which sunk the castle into the waters of Lough Gur. He is said to have become a vampiric revenant and occasionally abducts young women to drain their life.

(The Fitzgeralds were originally invaders to Ireland, coming over with Strongbow. They were not well-liked during their early history)

While I can’t find much information about it, Clíodna, who is stated to be the queen of the banshees, was reported to have affairs with various members of the Fitzgeralds, most likely due to her association with the lands of Desmond.

Now there is a legend of a man who’s name translates from Gaelic as John fitz-James Fitzgerald (this could be the 13th Earl of Desmond or someone unrelated), who dropped dead on his wedding day - the rumor was he was spirited away by the Fey, specifically Clíodna. The daughter of a local wise woman was able to bring him back after a poetry contest and talk about a dowry.

(As a fun side note, she is involved in the legend of the Blarney Stone - which I have kissed)

So, basically, family screwed around with a very powerful entity. The Fey are associated with death in some legends (Lough Gur is sometimes said to be an entrance to the underworld).

Weird crap just happens to us. It’s to the point where I know to expect weird if I’m traveling anywhere outside the US. Evacuations, injuries, accidentally making people fall in love with you, etc. weird crap.

It’s become a joke that you don’t officially belong to the family until you have your first near death experience (my official count for those is currently 7). Most of my cousins, aunts, uncles, of course my dad, and grandmother have all had them. Friends joke that death is flirting with us, but due to the associations between the Fey and death, it might be them trying to reclaim us instead.

It’s not normal things either. Example, my dad should have died in a car accident at 16, but he got out of it with a pinched nerve and some cuts. I’ve seen a photo of the truck he was in after he got rescued - the cabin was flattened. Another example, when I dealt with anaphylactic shock, the reason I was hospitalized as long as I was was due to my immune system rebooting itself like a computer. I still don’t know how it did that.

We don’t particularly like drama but we attract it. Oh boy do we attract it. I don’t want to get into that.

The family is weird about lying. Like, my dad has a physical response if he lies. It’s the weirdest thing. I don’t care to lie either, but I don’t have a breakdown over it. Dad will.

Nothing about us makes sense

[jankwritten]

the title of "This Was A Home Once" compels me, what is it about???

OUGH THAT ONE IS SO FUN!!!!!!

Okay so in 2022 I had this really big cryptid/supernatural creatures phase and started a bunch of stories involving it, and This Was a Home Once was one of those.

Nico, just graduated from high school, is still living in his small home town with his father. He feels like he's aimless and drifting, as most people in his situation do, and so the only thing he can think to do is bury himself in what he knows: the supernatural.

He runs a blog wherein he documents all kinds of cryptids and shit that he sees or thinks he has evidence of, and he's made friends with a bunch of people online through it - two of them are Annabeth and Frank, not that he really knows that.

So one evening, he's hanging around outside the local haunted Walgreens waiting for one of his online friends to show up so they can go hunting for snallygaster scales in the woods. Who he assumes is his friend shows up - a guy named Jason, who's a little quieter than Nico was expecting, and more confused, but that's alright.

They trek out into the woods together. It's quiet, quieter than it should be, but Nico just assumes that means that what they're hunting for is out there, they just have to be extra cautious.

They're in the heart of the woods when Jason asks what it is they're looking for again, and Nico realizes that Jason is not the person he was supposed to meet, and freaks out.

(the title "This Was a Home Once" was, I think, in reference to how Nico no longer really felt at home in his hometown but didn't really know how to move on or where to go, which is what sparked the whole plot into motion)

That's as far as I got in actually writing it, but there was a TON more that I was super excited to plan out:

Percy, Piper, Leo, and Hazel were all supposed to be big parts of the plot - I was aiming for a small-town situation wherein the POV kind of hops around to Percy and Piper, who would've seen some of Nico's actions out of context and whatnot since they all went to school together etc. etc. Percy and Nico are basically the only pure humans in the whole story, and while Nico believes in the paranormal and everything, Percy doesn't.

Percy, however, is also friends with Annabeth (but he knows her IRL whereas Nico only knows her online, so they don't realize they both know her) and so sometimes he hears her rants about stuff that he just nods and smiles along to. The vibes for him in this story were going to be akin to Steve Harrington from Stranger Things - he's kind of just dragged along for the ride by accident, and becomes an integral part of the group only because he keeps showing up whenever shit is going down.

Piper's side was what I was REALLY interested in, though, because she's got a lot of secrets. The main plot relevant one was the stray dog she'd rescued from the edge of the woods, a stray dog that she kept hidden in her shed from her parents and whatnot, nursed it back to health and made sure it got food and water - which turns out to be Leo the Hellhound.

Obviously in this story I was taking MANY liberties with myth lore and stuff like that, so in this case, a hellhound was a hunter released onto earth to hunt down escaped Spirits or otherwise undead creatures. Kind of like the whole werewolves despising vampires thing, except for hellhounds it's their job, their innate purpose and whatnot, to hunt down things that belong in the underworld. Leo had come to town the same night Jason did because, surprise surprise, Jason is a vampire.

There was going to be a whole Thing about Jason's colony under Thalia seeking shelter in Nico's little town from Jupiter, their original sire who was a little power hungry. Thalia didn't agree w him or his methods and split her little troupe off from the Main Colony, but then ofc the sudden presence of superntural creatures in the town brought More Shit To Town and that was going to be like, the Big Plot, was a showdown between Jupiter and all of the rag-tag supernatural creatures and humans and whoever else showed up to protect their new Haven.

OKAY I could continue to go on and on because i love this story so much (I should start working on it again omfg) but I'll leave that there HEHEHE

[rhpsdys]

talie (they/she) && amair (he/him), the first two heads of the bard coven !!

( keep in mind reading ahead that these two were developed with @titanomakhea’s lore in mind, which is very canon-divergent; that is what you are about to read here. while they also exist in the “canon” version of events, their relationship to belos, the throne, && the coven system as a whole looks a bit different there. )

as belos' power && influence on the isles grew, he built his citadel around the bardic library, having seen first-hand how powerful bard magic could be. with proof of his ability to speak to the titan, && sensing divine influence, they welcomed him. belos && the bards had a close relationship, with the bards serving as many of his close advisors in the beginning. he understood && respected their music, && they in turn offered hospitality in the sanctuary of their library.

a bard named talie was among those most trusted, for their ability to quiet his restless mind with their lyre was unmatched. he in turn shared the secrets of his existence with her, the full power && form of a primordial god. belos forbade talie from revealing this to anyone, && she kept his secrets willingly. the two were very close, often seen talking or playing music/singing together, though no one seemed to realize that belos was at his happiest around her, or that talie's music improved greatly after meeting him, as if they'd found a new muse. talie herself was fairly private, && their written records were coded && sealed behind magical wards. though talie had sworn not to speak of what belos had shown them, he never said they couldn't sing about it, && so talie wrote a vast repertoire of lyric poetry, kept vague through metaphor && symbolism ; though there are some historians who have attempted to decipher these songs' meaning, no one has ever correctly interpreted them. (in the modern day, talie's music has to be translated from its original dialect, && all references to belos are mistranslated as "god of music", leading to the incorrect interpretation of these songs being about qhorhas. however, the more accurate translation is angel of music. as a result of this, && talie's privacy, almost nothing is known about them.)

when the time came, belos appointed talie to be head of the bard coven. talie later took on a young witch name amair as her apprentice. amair was exceedingly talented: he played the piccolo, && his music was so resonant, you could literally see the sound he produced ; even his speaking voice had a melodic timbre to it. he was a devout follower of qhorhas && believed in the extensive mythology surrounding the titans, but didn't buy into the whole 'the emperor thinks he's a god && can speak to the titan' thing — even though, actually, most of that was true... just not in the way belos advertised. still, talie had sworn not to tell anyone the truth, so amair remained in the dark.

eventually, when talie ceded their position to amair, && he became the next head of the coven. though he carried out his duties as assigned, && represented the bards well, he was very suspicious of... everything, especially as it became harder for belos to contain his real form. amair was much more skeptical about the suppression of magic within the coven system, && it was him who catalyzed the sequestering of the knowledge && power of bard magic, to ensure that belos never got his hands on the full extent of their magic — to use it or to take it away. it was instilled in future bards to publicly downplay their abilities, && following his time was when bard magic began to get a reputation for being weak && 'boring'. the bardic library remained a sanctuary for everyone on the isles... except for belos. he still controlled it, but he no longer was given the warm welcome he had been in talie's time. the bards had turned their backs on him, && that betrayal was just one more in a long list. much of the early history && documentation on elemental && wild magic was sealed away in a restricted section that only the library guardians && belos himself could access, further limiting the influence the bards could have on the people of the isles, but they were clever. no power of heaven or earth could stop storytellers from spreading knowledge.

[subwalls]

Tales from the SMP Presents: The Haunted Mansion

An ongoing exploration of how the Inbetween drives my Kingdom Hearts brain crazy with paranoia! Less of an analysis this time, because we got confirmation (VALIDATION!!), and more of speculation, but yeah!

First of all! I was right not to trust this fucker.

Just kidding, that’s not the first thing we’re gonna talk about here. First of all, a gentle recap!

As I’ve mentioned before, the Inbetween has some uncanny resemblance to the Kingdom Hearts world known as Castle Oblivion. Castle Oblivion is known for being the place where the main series protagonist lost all of his memories, and even had false memories implanted while he was getting deeper and deeper into it. 

You might be curious as to how the Kingdom Hearts protagonist escapes.

He doesn’t.

He needs outside help, and a lot of it, to get him out of that situation. Even then, it takes a whole year. He drove his own heart into the bottom of the abyss in his desperation to save someone he was tricked into thinking he knew, and he didn’t even regret it, because he was saving someone.

... A lot of people on Dream SMP have different ideas on what it means to save people.

Also, the castle also had a very plot-twisty secret where it used to be the lush and wonderful home of these three friends before they fell apart; one was lost to the Evil Dark Side™ (not real name), the other was trapped in the Realm of Darkness (real name), and the last one fell into a coma for TEN (10) YEARS and his body was left to be protected in the heart of the land, which was then locked and turned into Castle Oblivion.

So, pretty fucked up place! Not inherently evil, but the place of great misfortune and just... not very good for everyone there.

Let’s start at the beginning!

Welcome back indeed. Take notice of the wither rose in the pot, by the way, I’ll come back to this in a bit.

The first thing that stands out to me on this page is the smiley face, of course. It’s not the ever-iconic, ever-evil “:)”, but it’s similar enough that I think the callback is intentional. The smiley is c!Dream’s icon, of course, which... honestly makes me think that “:]” might be DreamXD, but that might be because I’m very very biased for the server god who simps for a dangerously apathetic cottagecore once-king.

Of course, it does also look kind of like Quackity’s face, and cc!Quackity has said something about big lore coming for him, but until further evidence is presented I’m disinclined to draw a connection there.

The Inbetween, as we’ve come to know the author of some of these books to be, being happy that Karl is continuing—it reminds me of the KH protagonist being told yes, good job, keep going, as he stumbles deeper and deeper into the castle that strips away memory after memory from his heart. Why does the Inbetween think that Karl’s time travel is important, his careful documentation of every story? Is it because the more he does it, the more he becomes attached? The more he becomes reliant on the Inbetween to feed the missing pieces of his memory?

Is it because the Inbetween, in parallel to c!Dream and c!Wilbur, prioritize the concept of story over the characters?

Things to think about. 🤔

Also kind of interesting that the Inbetween thinks Karl will eventually uncover “all [he] needs to”, which continues to make me think that the more c!Karl comes to the Inbetween the more he becomes... either dependent or over-trusting of it. Not sure. But weird things happen when it’s magic that tampers with memories, rather than trauma.

Basically, I’m getting “there is no war in Ba Sing Se” vibes.

The book continues to say that Karl probably has a lot of questions and that it would love to answer :] but never actually does. It’s trying to come off as helpful without actually being helpful. All it does is tempt him with the prospect of answers, and then draws him in deeper. “Continue onward, Karl.” But why?

Another wither rose pot.

Sidestepping the very innocuous, very surface-level information offered here (because that’s it, it’s nothing about the workings about the Inbetween, it’s just a little sweet carrot to distract with), I cannot even begin to convey the absolute terror that consumed me at the word “sleepy.”

I mentioned earlier that one of the original characters who lived in the land that would become Castle Oblivion went into a coma, right? But it’s more commonly referred to as sleeping. The game is even called “Birth by Sleep”, and there’s a whole thing about trying to get him to “wake up”. So the idea that time travel can take something out of the traveller that makes them tired, the idea that there is one specific room for sleeping quarters within the Inbetween, paired with that not-quite-right smiley face—I am traumatized, I tell you.

Yes it could be a “haha look what I did with the sentence, because day is a form of time and they time travel so long day is a funny term” kind of smiley, but. Kingdom Hearts has trained me to be suspicious of any talk of sleep.

There’s something just mildly unsettling about the way it continues, with the references to the “many Karls” and the “many many great stories” that sounds borderline condescending.

And now we get the, uh, “other” author. Notice how this one actually did not have a corresponding wither rose in a pot. I’m starting to think that the flower might actually be an indicator of the not-this-author-pictured-above, the probably-Inbetween-itself, so the fact that this book was found separately from a wither rose pot and it was tucked away under a tree... A tree, under which c!Karl will later find a bit of a refuge... yeah, different author. Or at least an author from a different time.

I’ll elaborate in a moment, but I do think that there’s three (3) mindsets/authors happening here: the sickly sweet Inbetween pretending to be good, the person trying to get c!Karl to distrust the Inbetween, and... someone who desperately wants c!Karl to stay in line.

This is the third... I don’t want to say author, because it too has the wither rose pot and is trying to keep c!Karl playing along with the Inbetween, but it’s much less coherent and much more desperate.

No “:]”, either.

Some possibilities I’m considering:

the Inbetween, but it’s like, a security subroutine or a glitch in the system,

the Inbetween, but it’s from a future wherein c!Karl has fucked it up to the point of desperation,

Karl / the other author, but it’s from a future, where trying to stray from the Inbetween resulted in something traumatic happening and they don’t want it to happen anymore.

Some fun possibilities to keep in mind. Anyway!

Ooh, the return of the wither rose pot.

For this part, the only thing I really have to say is that the repetition of the Inbetween trying to present itself as “a place to feel at ease” is... Well, as the lovely Fear has said in this post linked here, a place that tries and makes itself seem safe probably isn’t, because a genuinely safe place wouldn’t need to announce it all the time.

Very much sounding like a Ba Sing Se thing.

More importantly, the book actually says that it’s “wild” how the Inbetween is “so beautiful that even time travellers who go anywhere at anytime ever and they still choose here” with a good old “:]” tacked on at the end. That’s... that’s not just me thinking like that sounds kind of threatening, right? Like, time travellers can see anything anywhere, and they keep coming back to the Inbetween. Why?

Is it because they forget the beauty of anything else? Is it because it’s not beauty, but rather attachment and emotion that keeps someone going back to a place? If someone forgets their loved ones and precious things, then why would they go anywhere but the place where they’ve put all their stories?

Why did KH’s protagonist keep going deeper into Castle Oblivion even though he knew that the castle was taking apart his memories? Because he had one thing left: the fake, implanted memory, which told him that in order to save someone, he needed to push on no matter the personal cost.

So the real question is: are the time travellers coming back to the Inbetween because they want to, or because they no longer have a choice?

It regards all the different Karls with such... distant affection, too. “How beautiful,” it calls them, for wandering the blank halls with blank stares and blank hearts, none of which react to each other. It says that they “choose” to walk the halls, uncover mysteries, and tell stories. But what was the other choice? Was it really a choice at all?

Hmm.

Karl goes on to explore, and finds another book that does not have a wither rose pot, which tells him he has to go Under The Tree.mp3 and informs him that he “can’t afford not to”. Cool. Not ominous at all.

He finds another, which says the same thing.

Definitely not ominous. /s

The phrasing here is interesting, because it’s also phrased like a threat. Usually, when someone tells you that you “can’t afford not to”, you’re either looking at a scam or at the business end of a weapon. But the empty pages tell you that the author is trying to keep it down low. That’s one of the ways Minecraft players have found to express tone in the very limited form of Minecraft books, and it works splendidly.

Not to push my DreamXD agenda, but like... the door was iron. Iron doors are a weakness for Dreams and dreamons and, mayhaps, Dream’s dreamon.

I know it’s probably just because the iron door keeps in line with the color palette of the build but let me dream, alright.

Anyway, book content! And an interesting point of order: there is a wither rose pot. I said earlier that it might be an indicator of the Inbetween as an author, but that doesn’t make much sense now, does it? This is meant to be a place hidden from the “it” that I assume to be either the Inbetween itself or the one/s controlling it.

So why the wither rose pot inconsistency?

Unless it doesn’t mean that. Unless it’s just a metaphor for, say, memories withering away or something. Or maybe it’s just a pretty plant, for funsies! Who knows. If I had to guess, I’d say that (after much reflection) it’s likely less a mark of author and more a theme of, mm, memory status. The withering away of memories. It fits in with the Inbetween, because that’s what might be responsible for it, but the author/s of the book aren’t immune, either. They get blinks of clarity, with the hidden, tucked-away tomes, but they might not be completely free.

The next book, however, again lacks the wither rose pot. It might not be a coincidence that the one without the potential mark of a withering memory is the one that actually divulges some more information.

This book goes into slightly more detail about the warning, though not about whatever actual threat it is that the castle (which... Castle Oblivion, you know) presents.

It says that 1) it’s not what it seems, 2) the "truth about the other forms of you”, 3) this place “is not okay”, and 4) get in that portal we saw that was blocked off before.

We know that the Inbetween isn’t what it seems, but the “truth” about the other forms... Hm. This is, in fact, another Kingdom Hearts Thing. There’s a running joke that everyone on the very large cast of characters in KH that in the end, every person is actually either secretly a version of the antagonist (through possession or body splitting or whatever), or a version of the protagonist (through similar concepts). Multiple bodies and other forms is definitely a Thing in KH, though it’s not as oh-god-not-again definitely-bad as the sleeping thing.

I think the other forms have either become reliant on the Inbetween or have forgotten everything but the Inbetween, or both. Maybe more of the prior, since the warning is against trusting the place.

And, uh, this? Fucking terrifying. I love it to pieces.

Every single one of these books has a wither rose pot, and this is kind of why I think that the Inbetween or its master/s is, in some way, possibly functioning via routines and like... an AI. Or a genius loci kind of thing.

But good news, there aren’t 13 books, there are 14! This is important for Kingdom Hearts reasons, because Kingdom Hearts has a big thing about the numbers 13 and 7 (13 is the number of pieces of darkness, and 7 is the number of pieces of light, and this is equal somehow, don’t question it).

Now, 14 is an important meme number in the MCYT fandom, of course, but I don’t think it has terribly too much to do with the lore beyond a fun easter egg.

The books themselves trying to tell c!Karl to, essentially, go with the flow and the path that the Inbetween has set up for him is... something. I like the idea that it’s some future version of something trying to stop something from happening, but we all know it’s probably not going to work. Fun times.

And finally, this.

The Inbetween is a bit of a narcissist, huh? It won’t shut up about how it’s so pretty and irresistible and the whole definition of, like, a honey trap. Oh my god it even describes it as ~mysterious~ as a good trait, that’s hilarious.

More pertinently, it also calls the Inbetween “a time traveller’s dream”.

A time traveller’s. Dream.

Again, not to push my DreamXD agenda, BUT—

But! Getting back on track, the book expresses its eagerness to see Karl again, says their relationship is gonna be great, reminds him that his stories are important, and then tells him that he needs the Inbetween/author just like the SMP needs him.

Uh. He’s going to need the Inbetween?

Hello?

Why? How? So far it’s presented itself as being pretty and perfect but it never said anything about necessity! What’s going on!

Very much reminded of how Castle Oblivion was presented as “you need to keep going in even though it takes your memories away because there’s someone you need to save [fake but you don’t know that because you don’t remember anything]”, and I am afright.

Talk about subtle strings being tugged at here. I’m really seeing the beginning seeds of a dependency thing being sown, and if it weren’t for the side books painting giant neon warning signs everywhere, I don’t know if it would’ve caught on. An artificially cultivated concept of how important and great the Inbetween is, and don’t you just want to take all those stories from that messy world elsewhere but come back here in the end to take a break and exist and explore and oh, isn’t the Inbetween great, isn’t it wonderful?

Man, c!Dream wishes he was this good at subtle manipulation.

tldr; there are multiple authors trying to tug c!Karl in different directions via those books. The Kingdom Hearts parallels predict that his memory will be at stake, and he might not be able to escape without help.

[hauntedliz]

Unus Annus is a Tragedy

This is a big ole theory that comes after a lot of discussion on the lore hunters discord, so I can’t take all the credit for these ideas, but this is definitely my particular take on it. Hopefully it makes sense lol 

Mark and Ethan made a deal: to have one whole year to create whatever they wanted without worry or consequences. No fear of ad revenue or views, just the opportunity to make exactly what they wanted. 

They, at least metaphorically if not literally, shook hands with Unus and Annus, and the deal was done. One year of free time, no consequences. Since then we’ve seen them laugh, cry, get angry, go through hardships, and achieve victories. We’ve seen them live, and we’ve also seen them die. Literally in Ethan’s case (”How to Start a Fire”). And then we’ve seen him back in the next video, good as new. We’ve also seen Mark lose touch with reality (Hee Hoo) and return to his usual self by the next video. No consequences. 

But something else interesting has been happening. We’ve seen secret messages hidden in the videos, deciphered and read pleas to stop the clock... Someone doesn’t want it all to end. Even before Mark and Ethan opened the coffin in “The Truth of Unus Annus” and were (presumably) replaced by Unus and Annus, someone was begging for more time. 

(Buckle up. This gets long and I didn’t want to fill up your dash lol)

Who is this person? We should help, shouldn’t we? Don’t we all wish our beloved channel could survive the year? If there wasn’t a chance it could be saved, these messages wouldn’t exist... right? 

Well, no. I think the channel will be deleted as we’ve been told from day one. I think this battle we’re seeing (and some of us fighting in) is one that’s been going on since the beginning of time, and Mark and Ethan just so happened to get wrapped up in it by making the deal. We’re only seeing it now, because this is the first time it’s been documented like this before. 

It’s the battle against for time. 

Unus means “one.” He wears black, a color that often symbolizes death. In the newer ending animations he passes Annus a clock and also wields a scythe. He is the grim reaper. He is death. 

Annus means “year.” He wears white, a color that often symbolizes life. In the end animations when Unus swings the clock to him it becomes a skull. He then holds a flower, a symbol of life, which ultimately wilts. He is the present. He is memories. He is the life of a year. 

I don’t think the clock and videos in general are beginning to glitch (the clock going back for a second in “Blood Bath,” static, weird audio, strange jumpcuts especially in “Accepting the Truth,” and of course the hidden codes.) because of anything Mark and Ethan alone are doing. Someone with more power has to be using or working with them to get more time. 

Someone like Annus. 

Now, I don’t see Unus or Annus as good or evil. Neither is the villain of the channel. As Mark said in “Who’s Cutting Onions in Here?” death isn’t the opposite of life, but part of it. Unus and Annus may say they hate each other (as they have insisted in several videos), but they are two sides to the same coin. They are brothers. They both have a role to play in the universe: Annus must live and create memories in the time he’s given, and Unus must end things. 

The glitching we’ve been seeing occurs when a well oiled machine begins to break down. When Unus and Annus try to take more than they’re given. Annus is trying to take more time (with or without the help of Mark and Ethan). He doesn’t want the year to end, he wants to stop the clock and live in this moment for longer. 

For Unus, he tries to take things before their time. For example, when Mark kills Ethan at the end of “How to Start a Fire.” Or, as Mark scolds him in “Brutally Honest,” for trying to end videos early. (While in my opinion, this is just Ethan being Ethan, I think another fun connection is how Ethan usually quits hard/gross food challenges before they’re finished lol). It can’t be easy being the ender of things, so I can understand why it might seem less painful to end things as quickly as possible. To stop before there is time to miss what’s gone. 

In greedily trying to take more than they’re both given, they have disrupted the harmony of life. Maybe the only way to fix things and bring harmony back to the universe is by allowing the channel to die. Let the channel be erased and let Mark and Ethan move on. 

If we let it end, as nature intends everything to one day end, then we can “push reset” and start anew with whatever comes next. 

Now does this mean all of our code hunting and fighting was for nothing if all we really have to do is let it die as intended? Not at all! A year is an excellent cause to fight for! These memories have meant so much, and we absolutely should be solving every puzzle we can, but when it comes time- the true time for the end, we have to accept it as part of life. 

I have a theory that Unus knows how this works: they have a year together, it ends, but then life begins again in a new year. He is death, he remembers it all. But Annus never remembers this cycle or the past years/lives, because for him they always have to end. He resets and is a new year, a new Annus (at least mentally). 

I bet it really takes a toll on Unus to have to end things every time, despite the fight Annus puts up to stay. And he should fight for it! Life is an amazing, beautiful experience even through the hard parts! It is worth the battle, but again, death is not the opposite of life, but part of it. And it always must ultimately come. 

I get why Unus would get greedy and want to make things shorter. The sooner it’s over, the sooner it can begin again. It must be so painful to hurt your brother in this way over and over again, because he can’t understand and never will. 

*coughs* um, is this a theory or a fanfic? I’m not crying you are. Sorry lol.

But I think the point here is to rage against the dying of the light anyway, but that the only way to win and beat it is to let it happen when its time comes. We got our year, and now it will end as it’s supposed to. And something new and amazing will begin again! 

I also just wanted to point out a fun little thing I noticed in “The Truth of Unus Annus” that kind of goes along with my theory a little bit. When Ethan and Mark open the coffin they are facing one another, a united front. 

And when the coffin closes, and Unus and Annus are there in their places, they are facing forwards and away from each other. No long united. 

THEY JUST GLANCE AT EACH OTHER AND SEPERATE 

I’m crying

Anyway, if you’re still here you’re a star. I hope this even vaguely made sense and there weren’t too many typos. It’s a lot, I know lol. 

[thegrapeandthefig]

The Werewolves of Arcadia

This is my contribution to @adri-le-chat 's Halloween "Haunting Pagan Lore" event. As you can see from the title, I've chosen a classic of horror and folklore tales for which many have forgotten the ancient origins. This will be long, so let's get into it.

The myth of King Lycaon While the earliest known example of man-to-wolf shifting dates back to the Epic of Gilgamesh (c. 2100 BC), the Greek case is considered the second oldest, and the one scholars consider as the root of werewolf belief in Europe, as the myth got carried over to the Romans. However, one should note that lycanthropy and human-to-animal transformation beliefs also arose independently in other cultures around the world.

In Greece, the first werewolf is King Lycaon of Arcadia. The story is said to go this way, though with several variants: King Lycaon ruled over the region of Arcadia, Pan's homeland. A wild, lush and mountainous region of Greece. Lycaon had several children, mainly Kallisto, Keteus and Nyktimos. After seducing Kallisto, Zeus is invited to a feast by Lycaon. The issue is, Lycaon serves him human flesh:

"After Zeus had seduced Kallisto, Lykaon, pretending not to know of the matter, entertained Zeus, as Hesiod says, and set before him on the table the babe which he had cut up.”

- Hesiod, Astronomica Fragment 3 (from Comm. Supplem. on Aratus)

"Two lesser known Athenian playwrights, Xenokles the Elder and Astydamas the Younger, produced plays entitled Lykaon. Presumably these told the story of the sacrifice of the child."

- Xenocles the Elder & Astydamas the Younger, Lycaon (lost plays) (c. 5th to 4th BC.)

The general idea is that Zeus is deeply offended by the act and turns King Lycaon into a wolf. However, there are many versions to the myth. Pausanias, in the 2nd century AD, explains it this way:

" Lykaon brought a human baby to the altar of Zeus Lykaios, and sacrificed it, pouring out its blood upon the altar, and according to the legend immediately after the sacrifice he was changed from a man to a wolf (lykos) . . . All through the ages, many events that have occurred in the past, and even some that occur to-day, have been generally discredited because of the lies built up on a foundation of fact. It is said, for instance, that ever since the time of Lykaon a man has changed into a wolf at the sacrifice to Zeus Lykaios, but that the change is not for life; if, when he is a wolf, he abstains from human flesh, after nine years he becomes a man again, but if he tastes human flesh he remains a beast for ever."

- Pausanias, Description of Greece 8. 2. 1 - 6

Ovid, when rewritting the myth in the 1st century AD, decided to turn the narrative to Lycaon doubting the divinity of Zeus when the god visited Arcadia. In order to test Zeus’s divinity, Lycaon attempts to feed him cooked human flesh and have him assassinated in the night. When Zeus realizes what Lycaon is doing, Lycaon tries to flee in fear. But as he runs into the fields of Arcadia, Lycaon is transformed into a wolf.

The cult of Zeus Lykaios

The transformation of King Lycaon is a punishment for human sacrifice and cannibalism, sometimes permanent or, as we saw above, for a certain amount of time under the condition of not eating human flesh.

The myth is said to have inspired the cult of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia (or perhaps the opposite), for which, human sacrifices have been rumored to occur. The sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios was on one of the three crests of Mt. Lykaion, where the festival of the Lykaia was celebrated approximately once every four years. We owe the earliest reference to human sacrifices on this mountain to Plato:

"What then is the beginning of the transformation from protector to tyrant? Is it not clearly when the protector begins to do the same as the man in the story which is told concerning the sanctuary of Zeus Lykaios in Arcadia?’ ‘What story?’ he said. ‘How the man who has tasted of the piece of human entrails—one of these having been cut up along with the entrails of the other victims—it is necessary for this man to be turned into a wolf. Or haven’t you heard the story?’ ‘I have." -Plato, Republic 8, 565D–E

Pausanias, who visited the location in the 2nd century AD, also mentions the story:

“For they say that after Lycaon someone would always be turned from a man into a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios, but that he would not become a wolf for all his life. Rather, if while he was a wolf he refrained from human flesh, they say that afterwards in the tenth year he turned back from a wolf into a man. But if he had tasted human flesh he remained a beast forever.” 

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.2.6

Later, he goes on to mention the sacrifices are still performed on the moutain, subtly implying that he thinks those are human sacrifices:

"they sacrifice in secret; I did not wish to inquire further into the details of the sacrifice: let it be as it has been from the beginning”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 8.38.7

Both Plato and Pausanias are skeptics on the existence of the transformation from man to wolf. Pausanias, especially, makes it very clear when giving account of the story of Damarchus:

"But concerning the boxer named Damarchus, who was by birth an Arcadian of Parrhasia, except for his victory at Olympia I do not believe the other things said by pretentious men, namely that he was changed from a man to a wolf at the sacrifice of Zeus Lykaios and that ten years later he again became a man. Nor did it seem to me that this was said about him by the Arcadians, for in this case it would also be said in the inscription at Olympia, which runs as follows: Damarchus son of Dinyttas set up this statue, a Parrhasian by birth from Arcadia.”

-Pausanias, Description of Greece, 6.8.2

Archeaological search has not confirmed human sacrifices to be taking place, despite the legends. The numerous bones found were mostly ones from small animals, with the occasional bigger cattle or pig. Thus there are strong doubts on the reality of infant sacrifices. If they did exist, the absence of remains would indicate either that the victims were so young their remains didn't survive time, or that the remains were removed for a separate burial. 

Other instances of werewolf tales

It is very clear now that the region of Arcadia is linked for the Ancients to the trope of man to wolf transformation, and probably taking root in both tale and cult. However, this while this is the most documented story, there are other mentions of wolf-shifting in ancient literature. 

Herodotus, for instance, tells us this when describing the Neuri: 

"It may be that these people are wizards; for the Scythians, and the Greeks settled in Scythia, say that once a year every one of the Neuri becomes a wolf for a few days and changes back again to his former shape. Those who tell this tale do not convince me; but they tell it nonetheless, and swear to its truth." - Herodotus, Histories, IV.105

Much later, in the late first century AD, Petronius includes a werewolf story in his Satyricon, which goes as follows: 

"I seized my opportunity, and persuaded a guest in our house to come with me as far as the fifth milestone. He was a soldier, and as brave as Hell. So we trotted off about cockcrow; the moon shone like high noon. We got among the tombstones: my man went aside to look at the epitaphs, I sat down with my heart full of song and began to count the graves. Then when I looked round at my friend, he stripped himself and put all his clothes by the roadside. My heart was in my mouth, but I stood like a dead man. He made a ring of water round his clothes and suddenly turned into a wolf. Please do not think I am joking; I would not lie about this for any fortune in the world. But as I was saying, after he had turned into a wolf, he began to howl, and ran off into the woods. At first I hardly knew where I was, then I went up to take his clothes; but they had all turned into stone. No one could be nearer dead with terror than I was. But I drew my sword and went slaying shadows all the way till I came to my love's house. I went in like a corpse, and nearly gave up the ghost, the sweat ran down my legs, my eyes were dull, I could hardly be revived. My dear Melissa was surprised at my being out so late, and said, 'If you had come earlier you might at least have helped us; a wolf got into the house and worried all our sheep, and let their blood like a butcher. But he did not make fools of us, even though he got off; for our slave made a hole in his neck with a spear.' When I heard this, I could not keep my eyes shut any longer, but at break of day I rushed back to my master Gaius's house like a defrauded publican, and when I came to the place where the clothes were turned into stone, I found nothing but a pool of blood. But when I reached home, my soldier was lying in bed like an ox, with a doctor looking after his neck. I realized that he was a werewolf, and I never could sit down to a meal with him afterwards, not if you had killed me first. Other people may think what they like about this; but may all your guardian angels [genius] punish me if I am lying.”

-Petronius, Satyricon, 62 (tr. Michael Heseltine)

Final words

Despite being present in literature, there seems to be a common disbelief amongst the Ancients when it comes to the veracity of werewolves, but it is also possible that the explicit disbelief shown by the authors cited there is meant to differiate them with the popular folk beliefs of their time. With this, I wish you all a Spooky Halloween.