#DayFour

[thegoodenchantress22]

Day Four - Cave / Warning Sign / Stray

If it weren't for the fact I aimed to do all three of these prompts, I would've chosen some different ideas. However the option of helping to retrieve a stray kitten from a cave was the one to go for (adding the warning sign was also incredibly obvious).

The sign is based off a real one I saw online when I was looking up "cave warning sign"s. A grim reaper with such strong deterring words of warning was certainly what I wasn't expecting, but it was perfect. I was only surprised there weren't many others... I tried to give the background a brush of darker blotches like the cartoon has and, well, I hope you can tell there's a cat in there, haha.

Why are they saving the cat for Harold? I dunno, Harold liked Thurston. I figured he found this stray cat in the cave and asked Arnold for help. With Helga as the voice of reason and Arnold as the good-natured heart, the two would brave the cave and get the cat back. Maybe it really was a stray this time and, with proper care and paperwork, it could finally be Harold's Cupcake. (Harold DID take care of Thurston surprisingly well...)

Thank you for all the love on the previous Days! It's been a heck of a ride seeing all the honestly astounding feedback! Hope you liked this one and I hope you're ready for Day Five!

[mistresstuki]

Day Four, Scallop

Turns out, scallops are kind of scary.

[sw4yingwill0ws]

day 4!!

[faintest-first-starlight]

155/365 DISCLAIMER: THIS WAS FROM BACK IN JUNE. So after 2 years, covid had finally caught up to me. I was really upset trust me. #junephotochallenge #dayfour https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm73zhsNk37/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ericcanada]

❤️🖤💚 #HappyKwanzaa #DayFour #Ujamaa #CooperativeEconomics https://www.instagram.com/p/CmwQ0N1AAqZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[dmidagad]

day four. #dayfour. #palaisdesthes. #tea. #quote. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmck8wzLiK5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[dotnetnewlife]

Day 4 - Thursday 12/8/22 12:03AM

Found out today that he’s talking to that girl again. So it seems like she isn’t actually in a relationship and it’s a weird situation. I hope he’s happy with her. But I need to realize I deserve better too. You can ignore him. You can do this.

Feeling slightly better about school. Maybe I know more than I actually think. I do need to study though.. and I should surround myself with the people in school who actually pay attention. Why do I feel the need to help others who don’t care for me? Why am I always like this?

[onemorepintriddick]

Ham ‘n’ Cheese Spiders 

Total Time | Prep: 30 min. Bake: 15 min. | Makes 5 sandwiches

Ingredients

1 cup chopped fully cooked ham

2 tablespoons finely chopped onion

2 tablespoons butter, softened

1-1/2 teaspoons prepared mustard

2 tubes (6 ounces each) small refrigerated flaky biscuits (5 count), divided

1 tube (11 ounces) refrigerated breadsticks

5 slices American cheese

1 large egg yolk

1 teaspoon water

10 ripe olive slices (about 2 tablespoons)

1 tablespoon diced pimientos

1 teaspoon poppy seeds

Directions

Preheat oven to 375°. Using small pieces of foil, make forty 1/2-in. foil balls for shaping spider legs; coat lightly with cooking spray.

For filling, mix first 4 ingredients. On greased baking sheets, pat 5 biscuits into 3-1/2-in. circles. For legs, cut each of 10 breadsticks crosswise in half; cut each piece lengthwise in half. (Reserve remaining breadsticks for another use.) Attach 8 legs to each biscuit, twisting and pressing onto baking sheet to adhere. Tuck a foil ball under the center of each leg.

Spoon filling over biscuits. Fold cheese slices into quarters; place over top. Pat remaining biscuits into 4-in. circles; place over cheese, pressing edges to seal.

Whisk together egg yolk and water; brush over tops. Attach olives for eyes; fill centers with pimientos. Sprinkle with poppy seeds.

Bake until golden brown, 15-20 minutes. Serve warm.

[yansimstorythatiwillnotworkon]

#9

Thursday

On Wednesday at 9:33 AM, Amai Odayaka’s body was found by Kyoshi Tachibana. Her story was that she was checking every area and every room of the school to see if every student was in class, since three were reported to be out of class. The three students in question were Saki Miyu, Ayano Aishi and Amai Odayaka.

Saki was last seen with Daku, who claimed that she was following Amai wherever she was going. Saki wasn’t seen by anyone since then- not even Daku himself, who waited in the hall for her until 8:30 AM. Ayano Aishi was found in the Nurse’s Office tending to a wound that she’d acquired earlier that day that had supposedly opened back up. Scilla was able to vouch for her since he was the one who accidentally inflicted the injury on her in the first place.

Amai was last seen by Daku and Saki, although Saki has since been labeled missing. The only other person who saw her was Shoku around 7:55 AM, although he went to class around that time as well. His other classmates can vouch that he did attend class at that time.

The only clue that they have towards Amai’s death is a note left beneath her shoes, which was left on the rooftop. The note, after plenty of investigating via the police, confirmed to the authorities that this case was, in fact, a suicide.

The note read as such:

“This may seem like a spontaneous decision, but if that’s the case then that means that I’ve been hiding everything well. I don’t know if I want my death to make an impact as a last wish or if I want it to be brushed off for the sake of those I care about.

“I guess the main question that will arise is ‘Why?’ The reason why is because I don’t think I… fit here anymore. I’ve been through so many stressful moments in my life, all in which I’ve overcome with the help of my loved ones. But this is something else entirely.

“Part of me feels like it’s my fault that bad things keep occurring in my life. Is it my past selfish actions that are coming back to bite me in the form of guilt? I know I’m not the reason my family’s bakery is failing, but I know that I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life once it does. In that case, am I selfish?

“Maybe I’m just a coward. I realize that my whole life has been set around one thing, and that was my family’s bakery. Every ounce of my life was surrounded by thoughts, concerns and wishes for the bakery. When that thought came to me I realized just how much of ‘nothing’ I would be once it was gone.

“I know it wasn’t a waste, but I also know that it was going to be once our bakery failed. I’m eighteen now. I don’t think I have the time to start from the ground up anymore. Even every ounce of my childhood was set around baking. I barely went to the playground, I didn’t go on playdates or anything. Now I just don’t have the time to do that.

“Everything was always set out for me. It was meant to have hardships- but ones that we were able to overcome. This isn’t one of those. So many misfortunes have reached us, and so many that we aren’t able to overcome anymore.

“I know I have people I consider friends and parents who love me, but I don’t think it’s enough. I know that sounds selfish, but I think that’s all I can do to put everything I’m feeling into words. If it was enough, wouldn’t I be fine right now? I don’t know how to fix this and I can’t stand the thought of burdening anyone anymore with whatever the Hell is going on in my mind.

“I’m really sorry to Saki. I’m sorry that your parents don’t talk to you like normal.

“I’m sorry that you have to stress about our health, Kenko. I know that you would’ve helped everyone who needed it if that were possible.

“I’m sorry that your passions are so discouraged, Seiyo. Life’s about making your own path in life, and I think you can do it, no matter how hard it may be.”

“I’m sorry, Ajia. I promise this isn’t your fault. I know that you’re a good person deep down.”

“I’m very sorry, Shoku. I know this is selfish, especially since you always wanted me to be the leader, but I think I need to leave the club in your hands. I know you’ll do a lovely job.”

“And I’m not sure what words I can say to express how sorry I am to my parents. It’s one thing to lose a bakery, but I know that losing someone you’ve raised since birth is much worse. I’m sorry that all of that time amounted to now.

“Mom, Dad, I’m still unsure about this. I wish I had the courage to ask you to help make me feel better, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m not sure that I ever was, or ever could be.

“I’m sorry. But I think my fear for the future overpowers the love I have for you.”

No one believed it. It didn’t matter that it was a page torn from her own diary. It didn’t matter that it was written in her handwriting with her pen and it didn’t matter that there were other note “drafts” that she berated herself for being too selfish or dishonest still sitting in her diary.

Her parents refused to believe it, Shoku refused to believe it, but the proof was there in front of them.

School was let out for Thursday, with Friday being optional to the students for a funeral held in Amai’s honor.

The Odayakas have since shut down the bakery, with Amai’s mother seeking daily therapy and Amai’s father working at the Dark Delights bakery as a way to keep making money.

Taro was nothing if not conflicted. He didn’t have the courage to talk to the cooking club or Amai’s parents, and has instead been talking to Osana and his sister about the incident. He plans on attending Amai’s funeral, but is too disturbed to try to join the Cooking Club.

The Cooking Club have been dealing with their loss in different ways. Kenko seems to be taking it the best, although he was never the type to let his emotions drag anyone else down. Seiyo can’t bring himself to watch his favorite shows like normal, and instead spends his time looking through pictures and videos of the club and Amai.

Ajia, despite Amai’s note to her, has been doing nothing but blaming herself. In her state of grieving she’s broken personal items in fits of rage and has stated numerous times that she’ll never cook anything again. Her parents don’t know what to do outside of continuously offering her their support and therapy.

Shoku went home first, and has yet to open his door for anyone or eat anything. After hearing about how close he was to Amai, Amai’s father has sent a package with gifts Shoku has given Amai to his residence. Geiju has stayed home as well for the time being, and plans on staying home for as long as Shoku will. Shoku’s parents will let him stay home as long as he needs, but won’t let him go too long without food.

That then leaves the mystery behind Saki’s disappearance. Since she was seen following Amai, it was speculated that she witnessed Amai kill herself, and was hysterical and in shock by the loss that she ran away somewhere. No one knows where, but her face has since been plastered all over the town.

__

Info-Chan: Your Senpai is okay.

Info-Chan: He doesn’t think that he’s tied at all to Amai’s suicide, so the only thing wrong is how shaken up he is by the event. As are most.

Yan-Chan: Okay.

Info-Chan: You’re lucky the majority believe Amise’s note. I personally thought that it was a little tacky.

Info-Chan: But in the end it did you well.

Yan-Chan: Yes.

Info-Chan: I get that you’re shaken up, but that’s to be expected!

Info-Chan: You finally went through with an effective plan. Good job!

Info-Chan: I am proud of you :)

Ayano noticed that the muscles in her hands and arms had been twitching often since she dealt with Amai and Saki. She no longer thinks that it was because her limbs were sore, but something else. Some intense feeling that she couldn’t quite place. Then again, how could she? As far as she was concerned she was bare of feelings, anyway.

After she had finished tossing Saki and Amai over, she sat on the rooftop for at least ten minutes, likely processing what all had happened. Eventually, Info-Chan’s blasted alarm finally caught her attention, and she rationalized that she needed to get to work with ridding of the evidence.

The first thing she made sure to do was grab the note Amai had in her pocket. There was something calming about seeing Amai lying there and slowly getting colder. It must have been the relief of not having anything else to worry about.

Next was to get rid of Saki’s body. If Kyoshi had to find anyone’s body immediately, it had to be Amai’s, and Saki’s body was right in front of the door. Anyone from down the hall would be able to see her.

It was hilarious, really. Such a rushed death could’ve been saved and ruined Ayano completely if Saki had landed on either of the hedges. That alone likely would have saved her life. It’s a shame she wasn’t that lucky.

Unfortunately, grabbing a crumpled body proved more difficult than Ayano thought. Akademi was a tall building, so it would make sense that there would be so many shattered bones. It was a strange experience, though. Strange bumps and jagged ends were not something Ayano expected to feel prodding against such regular, human skin. She had skin like that, too. Part of Ayano wondered how that would feel.

Regardless, the gardening club seemed like a dreadfully long walk with the weight of Saki in her arms. As she passed the incinerator, she saw a readied mop and bucket waiting in front of it. Despite Amise claiming to dislike the thought of killing her rivals, she still had several things ready for her just in case. Not only the bucket and mop, but a lockpick, just in case.

The lockpick proved useful. This allowed Ayano to get into the shed and use the shovel to dig a deep enough hole to keep Saki hidden. It took at least twenty minutes to make a reliable hole. It was smaller than Ayano imagined when she started, but still deep enough. Thankfully, Saki’s body was already plenty crumpled to fit into the hole.

After finishing with that, Ayano grabbed the mop to clean up the blood that Saki left behind. Thankfully, that was a much quicker process than carrying Saki’s body. After she was finished with that, she requested a new uniform from Info-Chan, cleaned her own, and began working on her alibi.

She did this by cutting the injury she received a bit deeper, washing the knife used, and heading to the Nurse’s Office after haphazardly wrapping the bandages back around. She told Nurse Kankoshi that her wound opened up and she tried to fix it herself for a long time before eventually coming to help. The wound was by all means real and Amise claimed that Ayano was going to fix her wound before class, which made Ayano’s alibi tight enough to be overlooked.

Speaking of Amise, she of course was with the Cooking Club when the police came to the school in attempt to calm them down and help them feel better, but her efforts definitely proved useless for the more… inconsolable members of the group.

Info-Chan: You should see what your peers have to say about their loss :3

Ayano blinked slowly. She was exhausted, really. The smarter decision would be to go to sleep, but…

Looking over at her own bed, Ayano realized just how dark it was. This coaxed her to turn on her light, which eliminated the choice to sleep at the moment. So instead, Ayano sat down at her desk, scrolling through her computer and heading to whatever social media the students at her school were using.

Eventually, she found a post that had a picture of the school from afar, showing a group of people working on building a large fence around the school rooftop. It was posted by “Beasness”, aka Bea, and was blowing up with all sorts of reactions. Mainly from others from the school, with her own following just asking what had happened. There was plenty of “RIP” and “fly high” in the comment section of the post, but something else caught Ayano’s attention.

Particularly an anonymous comment that was placed suspiciously in the comments despite the dislikes and disapproving replies from others. It read:

Anonymous:

‘ I’m sure literally everyone will disagree with me here, but I don’t think that Amai killed herself. I know what was in her diary and her note and everything, but considering that Amai’s life just started getting “harder” around three days ago, it’s weird that she’d jump to such an extreme “solution”. ’

There were bound to be people like this here and there, but Ayano was surprised that this person would make such a bold comment so soon after the incident. It didn’t seem like anyone was agreeing, so it might not have been something that Ayano had to worry about. Most of the comments were simply saying how inconsiderate this user was being.

Hoshiko commented “Pun intended?” with an angry face, likely so that it wouldn’t look like she approved of the possible pun. Kokona left a long message about how everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but sometimes those opinions didn’t need to be shared. And then Musume asked why Bea hadn’t taken this comment down, if not for the dislikes than for the fact that it was simply inconsiderate. Bea herself didn’t reply to that, but she did leave a like on her comment.

Thanks to the comment being anonymous, everyone was left without a face to slander, and Ayano was left without someone to keep an eye on. Part of what the commenter had said was true. Amai, regardless of what was put into her diary and note, obviously wasn’t the type to solve her problems like that. After a little while stalking Amai, that much was irritatingly obvious to Ayano.

Even the small flaw that Amai had wasn’t enough to make her look like anything other than the perfect girl. It didn’t matter if she could easily be convinced, Taro could just as easily be manipulated, Ayano was sure of it.

Ayano wanted to say that she was glad that Amai was dead. But there was an aching feeling in the back of her…heart..? It wasn’t her head, because her chest is what was hurting. Something… inside her ached. Something inside her was disturbed. But what?

__

Taro sat on the couch silently. It was only around 1 in the afternoon, but the living room was dark. He attempted to distract himself with another book, but it didn’t sit right with him, so instead, he turned on the tv. Despite the dread that had washed over damn near the whole school when Amai’s death was announced, nothing popped up on the tv about her.

Now that he thought about it, he probably didn’t want to think about that anyway. He’d only really known Amai for less than a week, but he could already tell what an amazing person she was. She didn’t seem depressed or troubled, but what exactly would Taro know? Despite the fact that Taro wasn’t too close to Amai, it was still… disturbing to hear that news. He talked to her less than six hours prior to the incident.

What if Taro had somehow worn her down? What if he unknowingly contributed to her actions yesterday?

Before Taro could bury himself in his thoughts, the front door opened. “Oh my God why is it so dark?” Hanako paused in the doorway, dropping her bags and blinking to adjust her vision. She put leaned over, feeling the wall for the light switch and flicking it on. “Jeez, Taro, that is not good for your eyes. You know that.”

Sighing, Taro stands up, stretching his limbs briefly before walking over to Hanako. Despite today being a school day for her, she decided to stay home as soon as she realized that her brother was distressed. Her twin, Haruka, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to get in trouble for something that they could all talk about during dinner.

Taro felt a bit bad. Looking through the bags proved that Hanako had bought him plenty of things that she knew that he would like. Some books he was planning on getting, a favorite snack of his, and so on and so forth. “You didn’t go shopping just for me, did you?” He asks, almost shocked at all of the things Hanako had bought.

Hanako always was quick to panic whenever either of her brothers were upset, and was even more notorious for overreacting, so it wasn’t too surprising. But the fact that she’d bought all of this within the first day that they both stayed home was impressive. She didn’t have a job yet, so all of this likely came from her saved allowance money.

“Duuuuuh.” Hanako muttered, checking her phone laxly. After a moment and as Taro lifted up the bags off of the floor, Hanako kicked the door closed and followed Taro to the kitchen counter. “So, that girl’s funeral is tomorrow?” She asked, frowning at the thought.

Nodding, Taro frowns and takes the groceries out of the respective bag. “Amai. Yeah.” His frown deepens as he sighs. “She was such a nice girl. Everyone at school was just as shocked as I was. It’s obvious that no one expected that from her of all people.”

“I bet.” Hanako frowns. She and Haruka had accompanied their father when picking Taro up, and everyone around was devastated. Hanako hadn’t even properly heard what had happened but the sheer dread around was enough to almost make her cry as well. “It was… unsettling picking you up that day. Especially since everyone knew what had happened except me!”

Taro shook his head. “Dad didn’t want you to overreact, I guess.” One by one, he puts the groceries up where they belong. “Which you 100% would have. I almost cried and I only knew her for a couple of days.”

“Well, duh. It’d be weirder if you didn’t feel like crying.” Hanako said, sitting down at the counter. She put her cheek in her hand and looked Taro’s way. “I bet a bunch of other students are absolutely devastated right now. And it’s not necessarily because they knew her, but because someone as bright as, ah… Amai was ending their own life just isn’t something anyone wants to hear. Imagine if they were struggling at home or something. After hearing the news, they probably feel doomed. ‘If someone as great as Amai just couldn’t do it then how can I?’”

Taro nods. “Yeah, I get it. Dread is something that affects people differently, regardless of who the person in the situation is.”

Hanako nods as well, glad that her brother understood. “So is Osana affected at all by this?” She asks, wondering about the red-head. It had been a while since she’d formally seen Osana or spoken to her. That was to be expected since the two had different lives and went to different schools.

Welcoming the change of subject, Taro smiles a bit. “Most of Osana’s friends our outside of Akademi. The only friend of hers that attended the same school as her was Raibaru, who didn’t really know Amai much either. I’m glad that the two of them aren’t too bummed out about that, though. The day before they were helping Amai’s club out with specific dishes.”

A shiver crawled down Hanako’s spine as she thought about that again. “Gosh, that really is terrifying. Imagine talking to a girl one day and finding her… well… gone the next?” She holds a hand up to her mouth as she furrows her eyebrows. “I don’t know what I’d do if that happened to me.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Taro says, sitting down next to Hanako and laying his head on his arms on the counter. He scratches the counter softly for a moment, a displeased frown on his face. “...Hanako, uh..” He sighs, and quietly continues. “...is it… bad that I wish I hadn’t met Amai?”

Hanako raises her eyebrows, more so in interest than shock. “That depends.” She says simply, coaxing Taro to keep going.

“I don’t..” Taro groans, putting his hands on top of his head as he tried to think, which muffled his voice as he spoke up again. “...Amai was a great person. And she didn’t deserve to die. But, this whole incident is just… I guess I’m paranoid now..?”

Despite Taro struggling to explain how he was feeling, Hanako simply listens, waiting for him to piece it all together. “We met when she was trying her best to make me feel better about Osana. And I’m greatful and she did help me, but if it prevents me from feeling so conflicted or… or even better, somehow prevents Amai from taking her own life, then I’d rather we never met at all.” He mumbles.

Hanako frowns, laying her head down as well to look at him. “So you’d rather feel how you did before you met Amai then now.” She guesses, looking at her brother sympathetically.

Taro peeks out at her briefly, before burrowing his face in his arms again. After a heavy sigh he speaks up quietly. “..yeah.”

Reaching her hand over, Hanako pats her head. “I understand, Taro. You’re not in the wrong for wishing that.”

After Taro murmured a quiet ‘thank you’, Hanako noticed the sound of rain outside. Quite fitting for the overall mood. Hopefully this would help settle Taro down a bit.

He always did like the rain.

__

Bea lets out a long, exaggerated hum as she watches the rain pour outside. She spins in her chair, looking to Kokoro, who was sitting on her phone. “Guess I can’t ask Genka for that talk show for a while after this whole incident, huh?” She asks briefly, flicking her fringe of dyed hair back out of her eye, although it just fell back down again.

“Bea.” Kokoro whined, clearly wanting to say ‘you can’t say that’, but their history preventing her from doing so. “No, you can’t. If you tried to crack a joke on speaker any time this month someone will probably hit you.”

For a moment, Bea wonders if one person hitting her for being apathetic would be worth getting that talk show she wanted. Nothing big, of course. Just a quick announcement in the morning, during lunch and after cleaning time. It would help promote her app, which would also help her bring news to the school. All Bea really was good at was collecting information, so a “talk show” where she could share that information was perfect for her.

Kokoro could tell exactly what Bea was thinking and frowned at her. In return Bea only snickered. “Yeah, whatever, I get it. I’ll wait a little longer.”

After a moment of thought, Kokoro speaks up again. “...Emile could probably do it.” She says, raising her phone up to her face as Bea gave her an irritated smirk.

“Har har.” Bea rolls her eyes. Emile was another computer nerd that actively tried his best to get on people’s good side. He was still a jerk, but not as much of a jerk as Bea. And since people generalize Bea as the bigger jerk, Emile’s schemes are often overlooked. “Stupid, four-eyed freak.” She mutters. She would never admit it (because it didn’t need to be admitted), but she despised Emile. Thanks to Emile valuing reputation over fun, he’s earned Genka’s good side where it lacks for Bea.

Instead of dwelling on her friend’s nasty comment, Bea decides to think of something else. “So, what have the girls been talking about this week?” She asked, leaning her chair back as far as it could go. Rather than joining in on the gyaru’s group gossip, Bea usually just got Kokoro to tell her important things that happened since most of it was crush BS anyway.

Kokoro’s phone screen turns off as she thinks, but she still keeps it close to her, as if she were still using it. That was a habit embedded into her back in middle school. “...uh, Musume says that Scilla–”

“--it better not be anything that amounts to ‘he’s a freak’. The whole school already knows that.” Bea warned her. She reached over to grab her juice box but threw it on the other side of the room when she saw that it was empty.

“No, I mean.. Musume says that Scilla was lying about cutting Ayano.” Kokoro says, anxiously tapping her phone screen. Whenever she did that it usually meant that one of the girls found out something that they enjoyed but Kokoro was 100% against. Not that she’d ever say that.

Bea makes a low humming noise, looking suspicious. “Well, she’s wrong. A whole hallway saw him trip on her and bandage her up. What else is there to it?” She asks, lifting an eyebrow.

Kokoro twists a piece of her hair between her fingers. “...uh, Musume says that… Scilla says… that his scissors didn’t cut as deep as Ayano’s wound was. Like, there was too much blood for it to have come from his scissors, or… something.”

Bea’s eyebrows raised in interest immediately, and she almost stopped smiling in her shock. She scoffs, raising a hand to her mouth as she thinks that over. “...so by that logic, Ayano’s wound got worse somehow. But she claims that it was just from running into Scilla… which would mean that Ayano was lying.”

“Don’t… don’t say that..” Kokoro muttered, fearing Bea letting this newfound information slip. Whenever Bea thought that she had an interesting piece of gossip on her hands, she would usually go on long rants that somehow tied to ridiculous schemes. “I’m sure it was a mistake.”

Bea swats her hand at Kokoro dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s treat this like a story, then. One of them Wattpad reads.” She says, raising her hand back over her mouth. “So, hypothetically, if Ayano had lied then that implies that she has something to hide. If not, then just tell them what made the injury worse. Even if it was something embarrassing like tripping over an ant, you’d still want to tell the police so that you’re 100% clean. Y’know, an air-tight alibi.”

Kokoro frowns in disapproval and shakily speaks up. “She does have an alibi. She isn’t tied to anything.” She insists, really just hoping that Bea will drop this. “...and anyway, Amai’s case is closed. Even if Ayano was hiding something, it would have nothing to do with Amai.”

“Hmm…” Bea gives her a mischievous look. “Yeah, right, okay. I’ll just keep the fact of the matter in mind, then.” She mumbles, turning to her computer with an excited smile. “Ayano Aishi is hiding something.”

[kostopolis]

Beware friendly Mollusks… DayFour… . . . . . . . . #inktober #ink #penandink #scallop #theshadowoverinnsmouth #innsmouth #lovecraft #hplovecraft #inktober2022 #October #drawing #traditionalart https://www.instagram.com/p/CjjmbpKj9gd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[donttelljim]

Trust Ch 1

Dragon Age Inquisition Cullen x Lavellan Cullen struggles with the concept of this new spirit, ‘Cole’, at the best of times, never mind the fret of what that envy demon had tried to do to the Inquisitor… Fears that don’t play too well the next time pangs for lyrium affect his thinking. Cullen x Mage Lavellan, following Champions of the Just. The first chapter in a short series exploring the possible fallout of siding with the Templars under such …taxing circumstances. In a Surana Warden worldstate (This fic isn’t Cullen OR Cole bashing! Love them both. Cullen’s just going through something right now) ⁘ A tardy entry for @chaos-company​ Angstpril Day 4 - ‘Facing A Fear’ ⁘ Chapter 2 here (On AO3 here) ======== Half of Skyhold heard it. The roar had come from the Herald’s Rest. Losing no time, soldiers were soon ushering patrons outside, including the bard and highly disgruntled landlord, who was of a mind to seize those responsible and drag them out into the snow himself. Room for negotiation, however, was not offered. Still in its early days, the Inquisition’s forces were a patchwork of uniforms and creeds, but in this instance, all were following the orders of the Scouts. The rehomed templars, the freshest of the recruits, were taking to the expulsion with the most reluctance, themselves treated like civilians as they were ordered out into the yard. The accusation of ‘demon’ that had cried through the rafters urged them to storm in, and several argued with the self-appointed gatekeepers, blades drawn and orbs of mana gathered, but they knew enough to obey in the end. There was a certainty to the people in green; whilst private panic flitted between them in secret glances, they held true. What they were following was no order from their Commander, but in service to their Commander, it went unspoken. Give him space.

Runners were sent for Seeker Pentaghast, but she needed none - she had heard the voice as well as the rest. As had the Inquisitor. Turning from her conversation with The Iron Bull, she stared across the yard to the tavern, her blood cold. Crows flew from its rafters en masse, making the sky a picture of the dread she felt. There was no mistaking his voice. “Stay here,” she ordered Bull, already moving. “You’re the boss.” The Qunari watched her go, rumbling and grunting to himself as he assessed what the elf was running towards. “Boss!” His voice called out across the square. There were few people she would pause for right now, but he was one. She stopped. “That sounds like Asala-taar. Go carefully.” Aredhel nodded, turned, and ran. The stand-off was happening on the top floor. The Commander had armed himself with a broken bottle and was levelling it at the Inquisition’s latest, oddest addition: Cole. “Get out of my head, ‘Spirit’!” he growled, his face twisted in malice and defiance. The edges of his mind felt foggy, his reasoning being tugged from his hands as soon as he grasped it, a pressure building behind his eyes that signalled a desperate need for what his blood remembered relying on. Or, it could all be the further works of this demon. He had protested its presence when it had been brought here, but he had not done enough - he had allowed himself to be overruled, too afraid of falling into his ‘old ways’, but not all knowledge from his past was misguided. He still had some worth. This was a demon, found within a dream inflicted by another demon - it had no business being here, and even less business inviting itself into his thoughts. “But I’m not in your head,” the approximation of a boy protested, voice nasal and deceptively innocent, though the lie was failing. “I am here. But it sings. It is loud, and the song is sad; you do not know if you believe the words.” “Enough!” Cullen lunged forwards, near-frothing as he dove to drive something sharp into this abomination. They could watch whether it would pretend to bleed. He would not stay silent - would not be kept on another leash and coaxed into negligence. He would not have his mind invaded, his thoughts turned into toys, again dragged out into the world through an already gaping wound - The bottle’s journey was purposeful and direct, heading straight for the throat. A blade, he would have sent through the ribs, but a bottle to the neck would do just as well. The boy didn’t move. “COLE!” Cullen faltered; both men turned. The Inquisitor had taken the steps several at a time, elven feet flying up them, though in her fear and haste, each step had still felt clumsy and terrifyingly slow. Below, Cassandra waited at the tavern door: in militant yet fretful whispers, they had agreed to let Aredhel go up alone, but there was a solidarity in the concern that clutched at them as they gripped each other’s shoulders. In less rushed circumstances, it would have been a hug, and it was felt just the same. Cassandra was fast becoming a sister: Cullen appeared to be the hearth around which Aredhel was gathering a new family. Right now, though, that fire was a danger. Slower but with no less urgency, she crossed the final steps to approach the pair, eyeing the Commander as she might a wolf that was yet to decide if it was her clan’s friend or foe. Her staff was not with her, but as a mage, she was never unarmed. “Cole. Behind me.” Her voice was low, direct, quashing the desire to panic and turning it into authority, as her Keeper had taught her. “Commander. Lower your weapon.” Cole did not move. “He wants me to not exist, but I can’t do that. But what he really wants is for HER to be gone. But she isn’t there; not really.” “STOP!!” Cullen’s voice came out desperate, somewhere between an order and a ragged plea. “I can leave, but he’ll keep her there -” This time, Aredhel cut in: “Cole. Stop.” Pained, she looked to the man suffering in front of her: her greatest priority, tattered like a neglected Aravel sail. Had she let this happen? “Do you see what it is, now?”, he demanded. Again, his voice was not angry so much as desperate: a man living a nightmare and wondering why no one but he could see sense. In his world, it was true. “It is a demon. Walking around!” A sound close to a laugh of madness rattled within the strain of his words. She had never heard him like this. “Inviting itself into our heads!” Belatedly remembering her command, Cullen put down the bottle, his eyes boring into the ‘demon’ the whole time, then stepped towards his leader. He hoped that the gesture of obedience would prove his clarity; prayed that she, of all people, would see reason. “It will not end,” he pleaded, a hand taking her shoulder, his voice forcing itself under control. “It will not stop until it has affected everyone.” Even within his fear, there was something else surfacing in Cullen as spoke to her: protectiveness. She realised, with mixed insult and love, that he was seeing a mage open to being misled. “It will tear this whole place down.” “Cullen…” Sympathy ached like growing pains within her bones. There was no risk of her being convinced - she knew he was not thinking clearly on this, and understood why. Cole had been a struggle for him at the best of times, but it was more than that, right now. It was the withdrawal. Looking up at him, she picked her next words carefully, preparing an attempt at soothing him, at talking him down. He interrupted. “It is my job to protect Skyhold, Inquisitor. Please. Let me do it.” All of a sudden, the man flinched violently away from her. He had felt it - invisible fingers in his hair. The sensation landed on him like a spider and clawed unwelcome down his spine. No. Please, please, please…Not here. Twitching, the man rolled a shoulder to knock the echoed intruder away: he knew what it was, that it was not real, but that mattered little. ‘She’ was here, returning whilst his mind was distressed. She moved in his peripherals, proof of what a demon could do to the mind even long after one dragged it out - even if one had never let it in in the first place. Their claws left deep grooves. “I could make him forget…?” Cole offered, helpfully. “DO NOT -! ” “Cole, no!” Covering her face in her hand, Aredhel attempted to hold on to her patience. “Just leave. Please. You’re not helping.” “Alright.” Sullen, he obeyed, disappearing on the spot. Aredhel breathed a little easier, yet Cullen felt no relief. He watched the Inquisitor, half-hearing, half-deaf, as she began on the spirit’s defence. ‘I’m sorry about him’; ‘He helped me’; ‘Are you alright?’. He realised, to his grief, that she only saw lyrium-pangs here, not logic. What did he need to say to be heard? The sensation had not left his spine, his skin still attempting to shrivel away from his remembered, imagined captor. He never thought Aredhel would defend an obvious demon: he trusted her implicitly. ‘Do you know it’s her… ?’ The distorted mannequin of Surana seemed to stand at his side, a hand daring to rest on his shoulder, mouth near his ear as she whispered to him - a recycled memory of her artificial breath hitting his skin as the flashback sewed itself new life. ‘I wasn’t me…’ His stomach dropped from him, his skin ice. The envy demon - the one that this ‘spirit’ had ‘saved’ Aredhel from… - it had attempted to mimic her, hadn’t it? Just as it mimicked the Lord Seeker. Walking, physical. Convincing enough to go unfound for years. Just like Cole. Kinloch’s echoed phantom bit, nipped and tugged, ignored, at Cullen’s ear. But even an enemy could be correct. His gaze levelled on the Inquisitor like a blade, his tone curling with lofty suspicion as it once had often, falling into the familiar register like reclaiming one’s armour. “How do I know what you are…?” Aredhel faltered. “...What?” The imposter’s voice drifted over to Cullen from a great distance, known and convincing, but neither had ever been a guarantee before. Her eyes, so lovely and yet so pained, could not be trusted. That love was what he would want to see; that worry, the best tool to levy against him. “Cullen….It’s me. You know me.” He shook his head, feeling like a child reduced to wordless protests. The detestedly familiar mirage of a woman drifted around the pair, always on the edge of his vision, yet still he could sense the apprentice robe falling indecently from her. He forced himself to focus, instead, on this new creature taking on the form of the woman he now loved. Very likely, it was a demon in elven guise - he knew it to be possible on every level. At best, Aredhel was now a mage who had endured much at two demon’s hands…Grief closed up his throat, his mind clinging to the former suspicion. He had to believe it - he could not face the implications of the latter. Out of the corner of her own eye, Aredhel also saw movement - Cassandra, inching towards the stairs. The elf held out a hand, as minimally as she could, and shook her head. Bringing more people up here would only confuse the Commander further. He needed navigating out of this. Meanwhile, she searched for an answer, brows furrowed. She understood the connections being made here, through the panic misfiring in his mind. It was a valid fear. He may be unwell, but even when this fog cleared, he deserved an answer. “I….will ask Solas to check. He can make sure I’m no demon.” The Commander’s face remained guarded, and even as she spoke, Aredhel knew Solas’ word was not offering enough. Suddenly, resolve hardened in her. With perfect clarity that both came from within and yet felt as though it arrived, fully formed, from elsewhere, she saw what must be done. And not only for him. “...No. The templars.” “The templars?!” Even Cassandra, the Order’s greatest advocate, exclaimed from the room below. Thankfully, Cullen didn’t seem to notice her voice, but he heard Aredhel’s. The man’s face fell in shock, pulled back to himself by the shock but finding a new nightmare waiting in reality.  “What…?” “The templars,” Aredhel repeated, raising her chin and attempting, through declaration, to smother her fear. “We have the benefit of their service now. We might as well use them where they work best. I will submit to their assessment - ask them to check that I am no demon. They will know better than anyone how to test it.” Softening, as though the past threats had not occurred, she offered the man she knew an encouraging smile. “Alright…?” Inside, fear was attempting to pull her apart like fretted wool, but she kept her composure. She could not, as a mage, pledge to lead an army of templars in the name of Andraste and the late Divine without subjecting to the Chantry’s way of doing things. Not after what had happened to the Lord Seeker. Her people had to trust her. And she had to see she could trust them. Cullen crumpled. Boots crunching over broken glass, he closed the last of the distance between them: her hands found his breastplate as, lovingly, all malice gone, he took her arms, drawing her close in a waft of oakmoss and furs. She breathed it in and he breathed in her, her hand finding his face as it collapsed in concern. “Do not do this…” Once again, he pleaded, but this time, his voice was all gentleness. His eyes were lucid - the fog was gone. “They could kill you…” “If I am no demon, they will not.” His lack of faith in the templars was starting to shake her own, but she refused to let it show. It must happen. She knew the reasons: it could not be changed now. “I do not trust them.” His whisper broke her heart, even as his return to himself healed it. He held her as tenderly as he could whilst, all the while, gripping on for fear of losing her - for fear that his follies were about to destroy the last good thing he had left. “Right now, you don’t trust me either, remember?” she smiled, pained. “But you deserve to trust both of us…” The elf reached up and touched Cullen’s hair, looking at him with unchanged love. He would never ask this of her, but that was why she must offer it: for him, and every templar she had saved for him. “And you will.”

[lady-of-the-spirit]

Angstpril 2022. Day 4. Forgotten.

Used alternate prompt 8. no fandom, just my own oc.

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There had once been a time when this place had been filled with people. The air had smelled of sweet incense lit with each prayer, and there had been many of those. People would come for any reason - warriors would ask for strength in battle, civilians would ask for warriors to return home safe and sound, the unsheltered would ask for warmth in the night, everyone would ask her to bless their loved ones as they passed on and grant them a blessed afterlife. The mosaic of her had towered over everyone in the room, reaching fifteen feet high, the golden tiles forming her sword, crown, and robes glowing in the sunlight streaming through the windows above. Offerings had been laid at the feet of her image - pomegranates (her favourite) and other assorted fruits, beautifully crafted blades (for decoration rather than battle), garlands of flowers of all kinds, as well as small, personal tokens from those bold enough to hope she would take more notice of them if they offered her something special. There had been laughter here, as well as hushed prayers, and singing and dancing on special holidays.

It was quiet now. It had been built in the center of the city, but the city was gone, rotted away or demolished ages ago. Only the temple remained, perhaps out of fear that if they destroyed it, she would retaliate with all the vengeance of the heavens. The forest had overtaken it. Moss grew along the walls and floors. A part of the roof had caved in, revealing patches of sky overhead. There was no light except for what came in through those holes, as the trees around had grown so tall that no sunlight could come through any of the windows it had streamed through before. Her mosaic no longer shone and it wouldn’t have anyway, with or without the sun. The colours had dulled and faded over the years, only a shadow of what it had once been. Pieces had fallen out, and broken bits laid on the floor at its feet - the only offerings this place had seen in years. It was quiet. Not even the birds could be heard here.

She stared up at the faded mosaic. She could still make out her form, looking out over her believers, shrouded in her own sunlight and basking in their love. Never thinking that one day her beloved followers would let this place fall to ruin and disrepair because there was no one left who loved her.

She sat down and leaned against the mosaic, setting her bag down at her side. She wrapped her cloak around herself and curled up into a ball, using her bag as a pillow. She could rest here for the night.

She stared out across the room as she drifted off, and she almost thought she could see figures dancing across the floor in moves that had long since been forgotten, singing songs in languages no one spoke anymore.

[hujanmimpi]

day 4: places i want to visit

where do i start?

kalau inget situasi sekarang kayaknya banyak banget tempat yang ingin dikunjungi. sekadar duduk bengong, hidup seperti warga lokal, atau memang untuk kepentingan kerjaan juga gapapa deh.

setelah akhirnya diizinkan untuk pergi sendirian. rasanya ini jadi momen terlama untuk diam di rumah. sebatas kantor pulang kantor pulang.

jemu? bosan? malas? lelah?

ya semuanya jadi satu. tapi mau gimana lagi? pandemi belum usai. mau jadi egois juga nggak masuk dalam hitungan di kepala dan hati. jadi mari bersabar saja agar segalanya lekas bisa menjadi tenang dan aman.

well, kalau tetap disuruh menyebutkan. mungkin...mungkin ya jawaban pertama saya tetap Jogja. entah untuk bersepeda di malioboro, duduk menunggu matahari pulang di ratu boko, motoran santai di sepanjang jalan gejayan, atau mungkin singgah ke beberapa rumah teman lama. atau ya tiduran aja di dalam kamar, lalu order gudeg, atau bahkan jajan di angkringan. ah kayaknya memang banyak banget hal yang bisa dilakukan di Jogja.

yang kedua mungkin ke Makassar. ngapain? ya sama saja seperti Jogja, apa pun rasanya bisa dilakukan di kota ini. atau mungkin mau sekadar jalan-jalan aja sama keluarga. biar senang, biar tetap merasa dekat, agar supaya tetap ingat bahwa saya ini punya tempat lain untuk disebut sebagai rumah.

lalu selanjutnya, ingin sekali ke Korea. alasannya? ya udah lah udah tahu juga kenapanya. intinya sih hanya ingin sekali-sekali mengizinkan diri untuk menikmati hidup dan berlibur, sepenuhnya, seutuhnya. tidak dengan diikuti pusing memikirkan ini itu, yang memang tidak akan pernah ada selesainya.

dan tempat-tempat lainnya biarkan saja jadi doa-doa yang saya aminkan. nanti kalau sudah terlaksana, baru bisa dibagikan lagi ceritanya di sini.

13 Agustus 2021 - hujanmimpi -

[klara019]

Angstpril day 4

Betrayal

(please check tags for tw)

The day of their fifth anniversary seemed odd. It was just like any other day, Tenzin would wait for her in their apartment, asking her “how was your day?” and then she would say “like always.” Lin ended her shift earlier. She opened the door with a surprise, that all the lights were turned out. 

“Maybe he’s sleeping,” she thought and put her bag on the chair in the kitchen. Silently, she sneaked to the bedroom and discovered that he wasn't there. Lin shrugged vaguely, took off her heavy armour and sat on the cosy, wooden couch. 

She stretched her arms and yawned, it wasn’t time to worry yet, so she was thinking that Tenzin probably had to stay at work for a little longer. 

She hadn’t noticed when she fell asleep. She rubbed her eyes with a fatigue and got up. After three hours Tenzin still hasn’t come home. Now truly stressed, Lin clothed her coat and started looking for him. 

The streets were empty and ominously quiet. The cold wind made her shiver, so she put her hands in large pockets. 

When she gained to the shore she took a deep breath. Katara was probably sleeping as there wasn’t any light.  Lin came and knocked. After a while, the old lady opened the door.

“Oh, Lin, it’s you. Is something wrong, sweetheart?” she asked politely. 

“I was looking for Tenzin, he hasn't come home yet and I’m beginning to worry.”

Katara looked down with disbelief. 

“I thought he was with you... “

“What do you mean? Is he alright?” 

She smiled sadly.

“He is with someone on the beach. I thought it was you.”

Lin suddenly felt a surge of anger. 

“Thank you, Katara. I’m sorry that I woke you up. Good night.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Lin went to the beach at a good pace. She was wondering what he was doing and she knew that she wouldn't like it. She clenched her fists as she saw them. 

They were too close to each other, both smiling, holding their hands…

She turned around angrily, debating with herself what she was going to say. After deciding what to do she headed to their apartment. It didn’t take long when he finally showed in. 

Lin was waiting for him on the couch, sitting motionlessly with a lifeless face expression. 

“Who is she?” Lin asked without looking at him. 

Tenzin didn’t answer. He looked confused.

“I said, who was she?”

“Lin, listen to me I-”

“No, Tenzin, you listen to me. I knew that recently we had a hard time but I thought we could get through this. I was doing everything I could but it seems it wasn’t enough.”

She looked at him with regret. 

“You love her, am I wrong? How long were you hiding it? You thought I wouldn’t find out? Well, I did.”

Lin’s voice got softer for a moment.

“I really, really don’t want to end it like this, but you left me no choice.”

She frowned aggressively.

“Now get out of here, unless I do it myself.”

He came closer, he was expecting her to shout, even to beat him. But she was standing still, looking at him mistrustly. Her lips were trembling, barely noticeably. 

“Don’t even try to take one more step. Don’t even think of touching me.”

Tenzin lowered his gaze. 

“Why have you done this to me?” she said voicelessly. “I thought that you…” she whispered the last word so quietly that nobody would hear. But they both knew what she said.

“I…” he started, but didn’t know what to say next. 

“Please, Tenzin, get out of my sight. I want to be alone.”

He nodded and went away, he left behind nothing but pain. 

As soon as he closed the door she started crying. She wasn’t angry anymore, all she felt was true, deep sorrow and emptiness. 

She was shivering on the couch, with face hidden behind her hands. The feeling of loneliness and grief took her over. 

Her sobbing was so quiet, so fragile… 

Like a chirping of the wounded bird.

[faintest-first-starlight]

124/365 🏖🏖🏖 #mayphotochallenge #dayfour https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm26VBRtRKc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[nexbookz]

Angstprill day 4 prompt: facing fears

I didn't really have a good title for this. Just a Loki/Bruce angst friendship story. 500 ish words. Here ya go.

Bruce wonders how this happened. It's just a stakeout, some of the Avengers hiding amongst abandoned buildings and tall bushes. They're meant to be watching a suspected Hydra base and it's been slow so far. 

Bruce only came because he wanted to get out of the lab. The three others there were Natasha, Clint, and Loki. 

Natasha hides amongst the shadows, blending in like she's one of them. Clint is perched in a tree with a pair of binoculars, quietly chattering through the comms about something his children had done the last time he was home. Bruce is with Loki on top of a building, about four stories high and standing on a ledge that sticks out only about a foot and a half.

Well, Loki is standing. Bruce got tired quickly and was now sitting with his legs hanging over the edge. Neither had a fear of falling, since they would easily survive that height.

And then the fog rolled in, thick enough that they were unable to see the ground below. Bruce is fine with this, until he notices his companion's expression. Loki is pressed hard against the wall behind him, eyes shut tight and face paler than usual. That's saying something, because the only thing paler than him normally is paper.

"Is something wrong?"

Bruce watches him take a quick breath, "No-- No. It's fine."

Loki opens is eyes and stares down at the fog, looking a little sick.

"Are you sure."

"I'm fine."

Uh oh. He's using The Tone. Bruce knows it well enough.

"Loki, tell me. You know I don't judge. Is it the height? You seemed fine with it before..."

Loki meets Bruce's eyes, staring for a moment with a look of distrust and skepticism. It's a moment they've shared plenty of times before. Now it is no different.

"I--" Loki starts, swallowing hard as he looks back toward the fog, "I don't like it when I can't see the bottom."

"Why not?" Bruce asks.

"I just-- I need to know that there's something there. I need to know that if-- if I fall I can stop and that I won't keep falling on and on like-- like--"

Like the Void.

It always comes back to the Void, doesn't it.

Bruce gives him a sympathetic look and motions for him to sit. Loki does so, slowly sliding down while gripping on probably-nonexistent handholds. Bruce puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and the tension fades just a little.

Bruce doesn't say anything, because he's not exactly sure what he should say. That's usually the case. Instead, he's just there as a calming presence. He's there to say "Hey, I can't relate to what you're going through but I'll still be there by your side."

Because that's what friends do.