#a friend and I were wondering if a Shadow puppet exists

[the-brucest-fan]

I NEED THIS KNUCKLES PUPPET 😍😍😍

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(7/?)

~*~

The sobs echoed off the stalactites, grew in volume, surrounded him as he crept forward, his mouth dry and his heart pounding. 

What could possibly be down here? And crying? This place had been abandoned for years and years, dusty and hollow with silence. There shouldn’t have been anything here. And yet. And yet. The whimpers were unmistakable, yearning and lost and all the more terrifying. They shouldn’t be here. No one should be here.

There were stories of crying creatures in the dark, tempting travelers to come to them, then striking. Stories of monsters setting traps, calling and killing. Faceless ghosts wailing in the dark seeking vengeance for past crimes. Demons with long fingers and longer memories reaching out with hate in their eyes and a false sob in their throats.  

Graham inched forward. Fear crawled up his spine with each fresh wail, but he had to keep going. 

(Gwendolyn watched the little mirror king, clinging to her stuffed rabbit. “Weren’t you afraid?” 

“Terrified! But I’d rather face my fear than deal with my wild imagination. I’m afraid my mind could conjure a hundred deaths, a million monsters, but until I knew what I truly faced, they were simply nightmares, as fragile as spun sugar, as empty as the wind.”) 

The cave seemed to resent the voice, seemed irritated that something was disturbing its decades of sleep. The stones seemed sharper, the passage narrower, the shadows blacker. He couldn’t help but think of the puppets again, like the constant sound would rouse them, send them tottering down the tunnels looking for the source of the noise.  

He shuffled forward, scarcely breathing, until he finally reached a bend in the tunnel, finally could find what it was that was haunting these rooms.  

He was surprised to find that this cavern was fairly well lit, with the typical glowing mushrooms of all types and colors reaching up, revealing how high the ceiling was. Water that eventually fed the frog pond, and possibly his own damp cell further down the line, sparkled in the glow, bubbling over the rocks. And, huddled on the floor, wailing... 

Not a demon. Not a monster. Not a human. 

A goblin.  

It was curled in a ball, sobbing. Even from a distance, Graham could tell it was horribly bruised and banged and cut—he suspected it had fallen from more normal prison paths above them (maybe they were beneath the cavern he’d noticed near Acorn’s Jack in the Beanstalk tower?), fallen down the sloping walls, bounced off the mushrooms (several were freshly broken, proving his suspicion), and rolled to a stop down here. In this lost, dark place. 

It howled pitifully, clinging to its dented helmet. Graham wondered if it could stand, or if it had hurt itself too much. No one above seemed to have noticed its cries, or if its cries did carry up to the prisons above them, no one cared enough to bother trying to rescue their fallen friend. Goblin society was maybe a little too individualistic. Or maybe this had happened before and they knew it was too dangerous to try. Didn’t matter, though: all that mattered was that Graham and this goblin were alone down here, far, far away from any help.  

What to do. 

He could hardly leave it there, in pain and frightened, but he was hardly supposed to be down here himself. Would it be mad? It did have its spear—the shaft was splintered near the top, and the sharp bit was on the ground, but the goblin could still probably do something with the weapon if it didn’t care for Graham’s existence. And what was that old thing about wounded animals, they could be more dangerous than healthy ones? 

Still. 

He couldn’t leave it there in the dark, alone. He couldn’t.  

He inched forward again. The goblin took no notice of him at all, whimpering. It curled up tighter, its sobs muffled against its own armor for a moment.  

Other than the spear, the goblin had dropped other things as it fell. A coin, scraps of paper with fairy tales sketched on them, a key. 

A key.  

Graham’s heart stuttered. What kind of key? What was it for? This was a goblin guard from the prisons, he was certain. What kind of key was it carrying? Was it for the prisoners’ doors? Or, and he hardly dared breathe as he hoped this, was it the key to the door leading out into the goblin city, out into Daventry, the key to the door that would lead him home? 

He had to get it. He needed it. Stars above, what if, what if, what if?  

But the goblin would hate him getting his hands on that. It hadn’t noticed him yet, but the key was right next to it. The goblin could hardly fail to notice him if he got close enough to grab it, and the spear, even broken, was still a threat.  

Graham approached, and his boots rang against the floor. The goblin didn’t seem to react much. His foot nudged the key, but again, not much reaction.

“Hey,” he said.

The goblin lashed out, wailing—Graham stumbled back, out of the reach of its wildly swinging claws, but he tripped over an upraised rock behind him, sat down hard, and crawled back. In his pocket, the harp clanged as it dragged over the rock, and the goblin froze for half an instant before going back to scratching the air.

Graham realized the helmet was dented in such a way that the goblin probably couldn’t see him well. It would probably be easy to grab that key, to scramble away, with the goblin mostly unaware. It would be easy. Just keep walking.

But.

That wouldn’t be right.  

Wente didn’t believe I was going to help them. Did he think I lost my compassion when I became king?

He stayed sitting, out of the goblin’s reach. His friends needed him, but what kind of a king—no, what kind of a person—would he be if he just left this goblin here in the dark?

He needed to soothe it before it would listen, though; it kept swinging wildly in directions it thought he might be in. Talking probably wasn’t going to help, not if the goblin was tense and frightened. Hearing a human wouldn’t help. But.

Music might help. It always helped Graham, when he was feeling scared and alone. Humming or singing, or seeking out lute players or minstrels.

Graham pulled out the dented, out of tune, missing a string, harp. He ran his fingers across the strings, and even though the resulting noise was anything but sweet, the goblin paused again. It tilted its head, apparently trying to see him through the crushed eyeholes on the helmet. Graham strummed the instrument, unconsciously tuning a couple of the strings to try and help it sound nicer. The goblin inched toward him, dragging itself painfully along the stone floor. Graham tried not to flinch, tried to sit straight and confident, and he ran through a short, extremely simple lullaby, the sort of thing an aspiring student first learned, an easy melody Wente probably liked to hum while making his hot buns in the morning. It didn’t sound too awful on the harp, really, and the goblin seemed to appreciate it. It was still sniffling, with those gasping breaths of a person who’d just stopped a huge crying streak.

He strummed a few tuneless notes for a while, thinking. Thinking, thinking. Stories. The goblins loved stories. Maybe he should tell one.

He toyed with the strings, then, “Once upon a time,” he said, watching for a reaction. He instantly got one: the goblin sat up straight and eager, like a puppy. All right, then. He wondered if it was the cadence of the phrase, or if it could understand the plot. Only one way to find out.

“Once upon a time, there was a brave little goblin,” Graham said. “It lived in a huge goblin castle with all its friends. The goblins in this castle each had a role to play, and they did them all very well. They could act out any story, and they had been acting them out perfectly for years. Except, the brave little goblin was new to the castle, and he loved to tell stories of his own. But as he told his stories, he realized no one wanted to hear them. The brave little goblin was supposed to be following the stories already told, was supposed to be acting them out properly with the rest of the goblins. They talked over the brave little goblin, they ignored his new ideas, and they buried in him old stories he should memorize instead. The brave little goblin felt lonely. No one listened to him at all.”

In front of him, the goblin started sniffling again. Not in pain or fear, but apparently deeply touched by the story. I mean, it’s not that good, Graham thought, watching it. But I do appreciate an attentive audience, I guess.

(Gwendolyn glanced at her grandfather. “But you’re the king, shouldn’t everyone listen to you?”

“Ah, you’ve figured out my tale.”

“I mean. It’s not like it’s hard.”

“Gwendolyn, a fancy hat does not mean you are always right. And to be a good king, you have to be a good person. You have to earn the trust of those around you. Like I was trying to earn this goblin’s trust now, with a story.”)

“The brave little goblin decided he needed to go on a quest. He was going to find people willing to listen to his stories, even if they were very far away,” Graham continued. “But as he walked through the tunnels beyond the goblin castle, he lost his footing, and he fell.”

The goblin in front of him gasped, putting its hands over where its mouth probably was.

“He fell down a dark pit,” Graham said, eying the room in front of them. “He bounced off the mushrooms that grew in the dark, and he rolled beside an underground river, and he scraped along the hard stones, and he came to a crumpled stop in the darkness. He was more alone than he’d ever been before, and no one could hear his stories here. No one would ever see the little brave goblin again. He had fallen out of the story. He was lost.”

The goblin had decided that putting its hands over its helmet wasn’t enough. It grabbed the dented, damaged helmet, yanked it off—revealing huge floppy ears, giant eyes gleaming with tears, and a drippy button nose. It pressed its hands hard over its fanged mouth, leaning into Graham’s story with pale golden eyes better suited to seeing in the dark than Graham’s human eyes ever could.

“But the goblin was very brave,” Graham said. “He looked around the darkness, and he knew he could find a way out. Even if he was lost, the goblin knew he could fix this. The goblin told himself stories old and new about...about strong blacksmiths, about happy bakers, about wise alchemists, about confident knights, and the goblin felt stronger thinking about them. He even felt stronger thinking about the goblins he’d left in the castle. Everyone had a part to play, he knew, even him, even if he still had to figure out what his part was, exactly. Maybe…maybe he just had to show everyone he was more than what they thought. But. But he knew he was a part of the overall story, and he couldn’t just fall out of it. And he stood up, as brave and strong as ever with the stories behind him, supporting him, and he walked into the darkness, seeking a way back to his friends.”

The goblin clapped eagerly. It chittered something Graham couldn’t even begin to understand, and it pointed at the caves around them.

“Yeah, like the story,” Graham said, hoping he was agreeing with it instead of condemning himself to something he wouldn’t like. The goblin sat back, grinning toothily at Graham, then admired the room again, pleased that its actions had created a story.

Graham scooted a little closer to the goblin, cautiously. It didn’t seem to mind, so Graham stretched, hugely exaggerated, yawning dramatically, carefully putting his boot on the key and dragging it safely under his cloak. “Ahhhhhh. Just stretching,” he muttered. He stuffed the key into a pocket without the goblin seeming to notice, the rough metal cold against his fingers and full of promise.

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Chokehold

(Sanzu/Takuya in bad Toman Takemichi timeline)

(drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

This song goes perfect with it:

Warnings: The Dove Isn't Dead But Is Not Looking Great. Dubious Consent. Substance Abuse. Angst. No smut at all, just angst.

(Mikey's existence haunting the narrative, also called background unrequited HaruMai. The cursed name joke is totally pun intended, if you know you know)

Notes: Well... This is a total surprise. I saw a fanart of Sanzu wearing red high-heels next to glow-up Takuya and my brain got possesed. So like always with rareships, I was suddenly starving and had to create something about them.

Also, I know @lucifugousart will provide us with some art of them sooner or later, the images are now hunting your brain. 😌

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

Takuya wakes up feeling like shit. The sun is burning his eyes, too bright for his hangover brain, to not feel his head hurting with it. His mouth feels dry and his throat scratches when he tries to swallow. To be honest, there isn't a part of his body that isn't aching right now, but his neck and his mind are the worst of it.

He doesn't remember too much, but the flashbacks try to flood his mind. A maniacal laughter, stabbing pain on his thighs.

He looks at the man sleeping next to him, pink strands scattered on the pillow. Is not the first time this happens, but Haruchiyo is still a mystery for the blonde. No, Sanzu. Takuya has to correct himself, something that is starting to become an habit lately. Is difficult to not get attached, to remember how dangerous this man is. Even for Toman's standards.

Blood. Red high-heels pressing his neck. A poisoning tongue licking every mark, hands playing with his choker. Ripping it off with hungry eyes.

Sanzu's job inside the organization is unclear for anyone who isn't a high ranked member. The only thing everyone knows, whispers with fear, is that he's the one that deals with traitors. His loyalty is unquestionable, he never disobeys a direct order even if he tends to have his particular way of follow them (always more violent, more loud). At the same time, he doesn't seem to be on the claws of Kisaki, not totally at least (Takuya envies him so much for that, he has seen on his friends the price of being mere puppets).

They were both completely intoxicated and he can't find the will to hate the other. No matter if the memories makes him want to throw up, if the violence really scared him this time. He doesn't blame him, no more than he blames himself.

One of the fews that actually still talks with Mikey, that always knows where their boss is, like an obsessive shadow. Maybe that's the point, Sanzu's true loyalty is to the one who was once called Invincible (he suspects that's also where the pinkette's heart is, even if he'll never dare to ask).

He wonders if he would've allowed Sanzu to do all that to his body if he had been sober. If Sanzu would've done it if he had also been sober. He shivers, not wanting to know the answer to that.

Sometimes, Takuya feels there is two different people inside that damaged man. The unhinged criminal, the psychopath, the mask he shows to the world (like an irony of the one he used to wear back then).

Possessive, controlling, the one that fucks him raw without mercy. Always demanding more, craving every piece of him.

And Haruchiyo,the one that breaks in his arms when he's too high to contain all that pain. His vulnerability feels even more raw, too honest, too broken. Takuya wonders who is Haruchiyo looking when he tears up, caressing his blond locks with an affection that feels too deep for being directed at the younger boy.

Another flashback hits him, sweet voice on his ear, a complete opposite to the actions on the rest of his body. A name repeated on a loop, making him finally try to resist, to complain. Not that the other cares, who knows if he even realizes, too deep in his delusion. In that cursed name. “Mikey, Mikey, Mikey...”

“...Morning, pretty neck.”

Finally, a voice mumbles next to him, aquamarine eyes staring at his neck when he turns around. Haruchiyo touches the marks, guilt crossing his face when he does it.

“Last night... Shit. I'm sorry.”

Is just a whisper, so weak that he almost misses it. But it's full of shame and remorse, feelings that Takuya know too damn well (that are engraved in his body deeper than any mark or bruise the other could do to him).

“It's fine, we were both high. Don't worry about it.”

He tries to shrugged it off and kisses him softly, showing the same sweetness he learned to hide inside of Toman. Earning a faint smile in return, a couple of arms suddenly clinging on to him. Haruchiyo buries his face on the mistreated neck, exhaling loudly with relief. Deeply inhaling his scent right after, almost like it was oxygen.

Is difficult to not get attached and Takuya finds less reasons to resist every day. And it's fine, right? Everything is just fine.

If it wasn't for his body remembering, everything could be fine.

[sshbpodcast]

The Call is Coming from Inside the Starship: Horror in Star Trek

By Ames

Gather ‘round the campfire… or at least that one saute pan that’s always on fire in Neelix’s kitchen. We’ve got some scary stories to tell from some of the spookiest Star Trek episodes out there. Okay, most of the time, the episodes that go for that horror-movie style of terror really don’t get there (many of them DO end up on our Bottoms lists), but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing spine-tingling about Trek. Space is a fearsome place! Full of scary monsters and things! In fact, there’s one right behind you! Aaah!

So this week, A Star to Steer Her By is holding a flashlight under our chins, putting on our raspiest voice, and telling some frightening tales in the dark. Check out all the scariest moments below and listen to this week’s terrifying episode (things get spooky at 1:14:28), if you dare. After all, what have you got to be afraid of?

[images © CBS/Paramount]

“Catspaw”

Star Trek’s first and so far only Halloween-specific episode is also possibly one of the least scary. I suppose the dead man that beams onto the pad and keels over is icky, but the trio of witches, the generic creepy castle, the giant black cat, the goofy shapeshifting, and the tiny puppets are all more campy and weird than spooky.

“Wolf in the Fold”

There’s a serial killer on the loose, and we swear to Apollo it isn’t Scotty no matter how many times he’s spotted with a bloody knife in his hand next to a dead body. Both our horror-adjacent episodes in TOS are from Lovecraft associate Robert Bloch, so it’s no wonder the twist is that somehow Jack the Ripper is some kinda incorporeal entity that feeds on fear. Is that scary? I can’t even tell.

“Conspiracy”

Okay, if nothing else, this season one episode of The Next Generation has a chest burster that even H.R. Giger might be impressed by. That gorey puppet inside Remmick’s torso is just naaaasty! The rest of the plot circles around a pretty standard horror trope of an Invasion of the Body Snatchers kind of thing, with these little cockroaches taking over the bodies of even the highest up in Starfleet.

“Remember Me”

How claustrophobic are you? Do you mind enclosed spaces? What if you were in a room that was slowly closing in on you? In “Remember Me,” it’s not a room that’s closing in on Dr. Crusher, but the whole universe that’s constricting down to nothing. Also, people are just vanishing, never having existed in this alternate universe. It’s a psychological mindgame that’d drive a lesser mind insane.

“Night Terrors”

Most of “Night Terrors” is Deanna floating around in the dreamspace blandly calling out for someone, but you might forget that the rest of this episode is chock full of really offputting moments from everyone’s sleep-deprived minds! There’s Picard thinking the turbolift is going to crush him, Riker seeing a snake in his bed, Worf nearly killing himself, and the icing on the horrifying cake: a bunch of cadavers sitting stock straight around Bev!

“Identity Crisis”

Update 1/26/24: How could I forget to include “Identity Crisis,” which features such a creepy use of the holodeck that I’m still on edge about it? When Geordi removes all the known elements from a holoimage and there’s still a shadow on the wall, it’s disconcerting! And then the humanoid shape making the shadow appears, my skin crawls every time! It’s so effectively unnerving that I had to add it to the horror list!

“The Game”

Another Invasion of the Body Snatchers sort of story, seen from the point of view of Wesley, the last hold out on the crew to turn. Sure, it’s a pretty simple story about paranoia and the spread of something analogous to a disease and… video games or whatever, but watching every single one of your friends and family members turn into mindless drones that then hunt you down all across the ship is horror movie fodder right there.

“Realm of Fear”

We’ve talked before about what a terror box the transporter is, so when Barclay starts seeing creatures coming towards him while transporting, you just know things are going to get icky. These haunting buffer worms are already disquieting, but they can also bite you in the middle of getting beamed somewhere and that’s when things get gross. Or grosser, I guess.

“Schisms”

You’d never think a space show about meeting new aliens would even attempt an abduction episode because we talk with extraterrestrials every day, but here we are. And you know what? Though it doesn’t quite scare you, it definitely elicits an unnerved response! People on the ship are losing time and sleep and getting experimented upon, and I’d entirely lose my shit if I woke up on an alien operating table, no matter what the holodeck thinks it looks like.

“Frame of Mind”

Riker’s having yet another terrible time being abducted by aliens in “Frame of Mind.” This one’s another of that more psychological type of horror because you can never tell what’s real or what’s not (spoilers: absolutely freaking none of it!) because the aliens in question are messing with Riker’s brain, which is scary enough as it is without being trapped in a psych ward!

“Sub Rosa”

Another in that category that’s more camp than creep is “Sub Rosa,” more famously known to be kinda sorta a romance plot… ish? But with ghosts that turn out not to even be ghosts? When Nana’s corpse suddenly becomes possessed by Ronin and pops up to ker-zap Data and La Forge in the middle of a cemetery, you can see some of the horror elements coming in, but then the episode’s just about over anyway.

“Genesis”

Let’s get past the really (really!) shoddy science in this one if we can, because at the core of “Genesis” are some staple horror tropes. There are monsters on a darkened ship hiding behind any corner. There are people mutating into monsters, with really commendable makeup! There’s Picard knowing he’s infected too and needing to solve the problem before he turns into a marmot for some reason… but again, we’re ignoring the shoddy science, no matter how hard that is.

“The Adversary”

We hope you like the classic horror movie The Thing, because this episode is basically just The Thing on a starship, somehow with less body horror. There’s a shapeshifter loose on the Defiant, running around sabotaging systems. He can take the form of anything or anyone around you. You can trust no one! Especially Eddington!

“Empok Nor”

The spookiest Deep Space Nine episode has got to be “Empok Nor,” an episode that seemed to know from the get go what aesthetic it was going for and nailed it. There’s a LOT happening here, and somehow it doesn’t crumble. We’re on a busted station that’s full of zombie Cardassians with a taste for blood, and they infect Garak and turn him into a serial killer. Just the scene with all the corpses strung up from the ceiling raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Faces”

In addition to just being a solid early outing for the Torres character to get some development, “Faces” is also freaking nightmare fuel. Everything the Vidiians touch is just terrifying. They are monsters who will harvest your organs while you’re alive. But when Sulan walks in with Durst’s face stapled on, it is straight up something from a horror show, and a good horror show at that. I want to vomit just thinking about it.

“Threshold”

Again, we have another episode that is so goofy it’s hard to be scared by it, but you can see some of the old B-movie horror images in here. A generic lizard monster scooping up a woman and carrying her away is the cover of just about every sci-fi anthology out there! A couple of tweaks and this could have been some good horror, and even a good episode for Paris, but then he had to mutate into a salamander and botch it.

“The Thaw”

One of the best known horror episodes is the one that literally scares some characters to death. As if clowns aren’t scary enough on their own, they also psychologically torture people in a mind funhouse where a horror clown can guillotine you whenever he wants. Sure, it’s a little heavy handed on the fear stuff, but it’s a great performance from Michael McKean and a lot of trippy visuals that prove that horror doesn’t only happen in the dark.

“Macrocosm”

How much do you love Ellen Ripley in the Alien movies? Enough that you want to watch Kathryn Janeway do the same thing to a really bad CGI blob? Like in “Genesis,” it’s pretty scary to return to the ship to find everyone infested with something or other, but overall the horror tone kinda escapes this episode because of the needless flashback and just terrible floating gelatin creature. Janeway looked great though.

“Darkling”

Is it still a horror episode if you just straight up adapt the plot of a classic horror novel? When the EMH decides to do his take on Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, there’s definitely some of that cringe factor that’s present in the book, especially when he captures and tries to experiment on Torres. The horror-thriller nature of the episode also ends up with the monster kidnapping a girl again, like we mentioned in “Threshold.” Fewer lizards though.

“Scorpion” et alia

Pretty much any time we encounter the Borg, it’s absolutely terrifying, so I’m distilling all the episodes with our assimilation-happy friends to this one that also adds in Species 8472 just to up the terror. I always say that walking around a Borg Cube would make for a truly unnerving theme for a haunted house. What’s scarier than finding just a creepy pile of Borg parts that someone (who?! why?! eek!) left in the middle of the room? Pardon me while I go change my pants for… no reason.

“Revulsion”

Boy, there are a lot of scary-themed episodes in Voyager (maybe because being so far from home naturally lends to being afraid?), and we’re only halfway through the list we compiled! Yet another serial killer is on the loose in “Revulsion,” and we get to watch him hunt down Torres on his creepy ship full of corpses. Yikes.

“One”

This one stands out because most of the horror comes from the idea of being alone and the tricks that your mind can play on you when you’re the most helpless. It doesn’t help that the ship is also playing tricks on you as well, giving false readings as things are literally falling apart. Oh, and the lives of the crew are depending on you lest they suffocate in their sleep on corrosive nebula air. Is a madman loose on the ship or are you just hallucinating? No pressure. Are you scared yet?

“Juggernaut”

There’s a lot of echoes of “Revulsion” in this episode, and I’m here for it. We’ve got some great settings full of just grody, gross smog making it impossible to see what’s right in front of your face. We’ve got a campfire tale of killer monsters that live in the smog. We’ve got Torres wandering around this spooky ship that might have a killer monster in it… and I’m no longer here for it; I’m hiding under my bed.

“The Haunting of Deck Twelve”

Are you afraid of the dark? Well the crew sure is! As we discussed this week, the structure of the episode could have used a little more finesse to prop up the horror themes, but there’s some good stuff here. Watching the lifeform dangle Janeway’s life in its smoky tendrils is downright unnerving. The cinematography also framed some scenes in the style of classic horror moments, and those didn’t go unnoticed either.

“Silent Enemy”

Update 1/26/24: One more that I neglected to add before was this early Enterprise episode that had some great horror elements going for it. Sure, the sum of its parts somehow added up to less than we were expecting and the aliens were too badly CGI’ed to be scary, but it’s one of the tensest episodes I can think of because, for most of the episode, we don’t know what’s lurking in the darkened corridors and talking back to us with our snippets from our own conversations! Eek!

“Vox Sola”

Are spiderwebs still scary without the spiders? I’m gonna say yes, as long as the webs themselves are some kind of lifeform that is sucking the energy out of you, infesting the ship, and growing to fill a whole damn cargo bay. This is a rare instance of something that seems like it’s going to be a horror episode turning into normal science fiction in the way that the ordeal is resolved, and that’s quite refreshing.

“Impulse”

For reasons, Enterprise decided to capitalize on the zombie resurgence that the previous year’s 28 Days Later had reignited. So they made a very by-the-book zombie story that really wasn’t much else. The episode is that general sort of suspense that one expects from a genre where normal people turn into monsters lurking in dark corridors. The filming serves that creepiness and the makeup was bang-on too, so there’s that.

“Context is for Kings”

Discovery gets in on the scary stuff early in the series in the very first episode aboard the titular starship and our first mission is to subdue a monster on the corpse-filled Glenn. Things get scary, with massive piles of gore to wade through, until we learn that Ripper is really just a loveable giant tardigrade that you just wanna snuggle up with like an oversized teddy bear! Big “Devil in the Dark” vibes off that twist.

“All Those Who Wander”

Okay, last one we have the guts to watch before cowering under the blankets, and it’s a very recent episode! Strange New Worlds actually makes the Gorn into a real villainous race that is not only powerful, but downright scary. This nerve-racking episode is structured just like a good “monster on the ship” story like Alien, and even includes a chestburster (or I guess a bunch of backbursters).

— Well I’m gonna have some nightmares tonight after all that. Were they all good Star Trek episodes? Oh certainly not, but you gotta love when the lights get dim and the camerawork gets fancy and there’s probably something creeping in the corners. Keep the nightlight on with us for more next week, as we wrap season six of Voyager over on the podcast and give our tops and bottoms. Also be sure to hang out with us on Facebook and Twitter, and check under your bed for monsters. You’re bound to find some.

[maguro13-2]

Darkness Reborn ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Final Chapter Finale (5/10) ~

[Kinght's Passage - Jun Senoue, Yutaka Minobe]

*BOOST!*

Tails (via communicator) : Sonic, come in! There's something wrong with this picture! It's a giant tree that is coming from the Earth's core!

Sonic : I know it, it's the legacy belonging to that Chao named Shinra. Where'd have I seen it before! I bet nobody had summoned it like this before!

Knuckles (via communicator) : So that's why Soul Eater existed within the real world, huh? Who knew that it was inside the earth's core?

Shadow (via communicator) : What a bunch of teenage scumbags, the weapons and meisters have been tools to Shotaro the Dokeshi all along, the Men of Shinra's influence had the nerves and his balls to keep the truth out of the public eye. I guess that Shinigami person was nothing more than a faker that I pressumed.

Silver (via communicator) : So...Not the brightest Idea of hiding a giant tree that was inside the planet just to be spreading the influence from Shinra Kusakabe, not the company from Final Fantasy VII! I don't know how to say this, Maka Albarn had felt like an idiot for being the under the influence to Shinra's will, just a puppet on a string. She must've wasted her own life to be the hero of a crazy manga story that was only made for money!

Knuckles (via communicator) : It's what money comes out of his pocket, that author of their world is such weird man and a complete idiot!

Tails (via communicator) : It's no wonder why the author had to go make up the lies for his own characters, just to be thrown out like garbage!

Sonic : Guess we were all wrong. But Japan isn't stupid enought to make a bunch of crazy stories that were nothing cosmic horrors and make believes!

Amy (communicator) : Just before you know it! There's bunch of heartless and ghosts from the Evershade valley! It's a crazy party for 2013!

Sonic : Ghosts of Evershade Valley? Wait a second, that wouldn't happened to be Luigi's Mansion 2, right?

Amy (communicator) : I'm afraid so. These ghosts we called inhabitants of Evershade Valley were once peceaful ghosts that have a good side due to the powers of the Dark Moon's appearance, until Luigi's arch enemy, King Boo, destroyed the moon into five pieces, causing the Evershade Ghosts to go berserk and turned wickedly insane, making a huge mess on Professor Egadd's science work.

Sonic : Good thing that he made it safely to the bunker, looks like Luigi's gonna have to save Mario instead of Death the Kid.

Espio (via communicator) : Don't worry about that guy, he has nothing to do with anything to do necessarily for his life, not even he can protect the legacy from his grandfather! Guess all people to be needed their lessons learned about monopolizing political power. It's not wonder that the school itself was not created to maintain the public order, just the monopolization of political refugees.

Vector (via communicator) : Now let's give that Ohkubo a piece of his own mind!

Charmy (via communicator) : That's what he get for bringing weridness into our world!

Sonic : Roger that, guys! I won't forget!

Nozomi : Hey, Sonic! Long time no see! Sorry about the delays back there! I heard that you were awesome of saving 2011 from the clutches of Dr. Eggman's wicked schemes back there! Your old friend has came back to see you again!

[Free by Crush 40 plays]

Sonic : Nozomi Kaminashi! (see Nozomi on the original Blue Star board) What's up, old friend? So how was the race of the New Ex World Grand Prix.

Nozomi : About the Ex World Grand Prix? I'm still living it to that dream on saving Keijo about 7 years ago when I first met you during my Age progression while being nine years old. So when I finally realized that I finally get to save Keijo, my friends won the Ex World Grand Prix to find all the prizes locked away and discovered that we found a race of aliens that has the power of colors.

Sonic : race of aliens thas the power of colors? (realizing) The Wisps! Nozomi, you're a genius! We can use the wisp and take down the super baddie once and for all! Think we can handle this, partner?

Nozomi : You betcha!

Sonic : Let's speed things up a notch!

Nozomi : Roger that!

*WHOOSH X2*

"Meanwhile..."

[Navigation - Fumie Kumatani]

Eve : Well, Seto. I was right, guess that Death the Kid fella was not only made by Shotaro the Dokeshi himself, but I know who helped him to create the Death the Kid, the second of the Kusakabe Family tree. Who else but his older brother, gues he's part of the tree as well.

Seto : Hello! Anybody here? I'm Seto the Deathless, the newly elected Shinigami, I came here to find who really modeled Death the Kid, the one who was modeled after his Grandfather. You see, he has been under the influence of his grandfather's legacy and the men of his influence had been hiding the truth.

Cruz/Yamada : I don't know guys. But, there's no one here but besides us.

Shotaro : You wanna know why you guys are here? Well, guess, you finally craked the case, newly elected Shinigami.

Kuchinashi : Hold on, you are...

Seto : Shotaro the Dokeshi, so this is Shinigami's real self. A human form of a yokai called a Kyokotsu?

Eve : Well, I'll be a son of a gun! You're just a kid that eats a lot of bones that are animal-related like drumsticks and of course Roast chicken and Fried turkeys for Thanksgiving! So this is what have you been hidden from the public so that you would be Shinigami!

Shotaro the Dokeshi : You knew that it was me all along! Of course I was the so-called God of Death. Yohei told me that so I would become part of the Shinigami Council. Easy enough for you to be fooled by one individual that is a kid. I'd still get all the glory and I even made fake-money from Shinra's son!

Eve : So you fooled Maka and everyone that easily because you wanted to become Shinigami so that you could get all the glory you wanted to become part of the Shinigami council. Guess what, Skull for brains? Botan, Ichigo, and Ryuk gave Seto this permission after Ichigo heard that Death was actually the man-made son of Shinra and realized that the school you created was about protecting humanity nor peace. It was created about bringing power and monopolization to all of humanity and bringing wars across the globe.

Shotaro the Dokeshi : So what? I said I was sorry! I didn't know that I was fooled by the likes of Shinra Kusakabe, his influence wanted to spread even further and then I got Ashley's people involved to thinking that they were the enemies that wrecked the earth clean with magic, and of course the heartless as well. Soon as I about to overthrow the Kasugatani Family tree and the heartless their selves, I will pay you all to the world!

[Team Chaotx by Gunnar Nelson]

Adam Blade : So, kid. We heard the whole thing. You were so lucky that you tricked a girl for being a stubborn loser. taht you are

Setsuna : You were behind all of this? Heh, what a scumbag you are.

Teruyama : We should've known a kid like you is doing something stupid like this!

Kuchinashi : We've been had it by one of your tricks!

Solva : You can't fool us anymore! It's payback time, motherf**ker!

Shotaro the Dokeshi : Hey, look! I can make this a big deal! We all wanted to open our eyes to the truth and seek for it! All of that was to over Shinra's legacy and not mine. (bumps into someone that is a little pink-haired ribbon, apparently, Mio) What do you want little girl? You got something for me or what? I got no milk, cookies, or have any candy for you.

Mio : I'm not here for the sweets, I'm here to teach you lesson for being so stubborn! So take this, you fake Shinigami! You're gonna be bad to the bones!

Shotaro the Dokeshi : Oh yeah, I am definitely boned.

(sounds of Shotaro get beaten by the Needless Cast while scene goes pitchblack)

Shotaro the Dokeshi : (screams in pain) WHY DID I DESERVE THIIIIIIIS!?!

"Nobody steals the title Shinigami from me, Seto the Deathless."

"A girl who works with a group of seinen superheroes called Needless is what we exist in Real World AU."

"This is a future that I have to protect."

"The Ohkuboverse is nothing compared to Real World AU itself!"

"That is the universe that we truly lived in!"

~ 110th Scene : The True Shinigami ~

[miriael-the-cozy-witch]

Fear the Reaper, Part 2

This is part 2 of how my WoL made their pact with their voidsent, and became a reaper! I hope you enjoy it! Click here for part 1! Click here for part 3! Click here for Part 4!

I didn't like Ul'dah much.

I mean... It was fine... As someone who grew up in a bloody cave, you'd think I'd love it's stonework and crowded streets. But no, for numerous reasons Ul'dah sat like an unpleasant taste in the back of my throat.

Firstly, it was hot. Stupid hot.

I flapped out the folds of my overcoat, trying to get some breathable air into it, leaning further into the shade. Even in this isolated street corner, the very air simmered in temperatures above what I could tolerate, feeling moist and sticky all over my skin.

How people lived here I had no idea.

Secondly, was the wealth.

Not that there was wealth, no, that wasn't surprising. This was the golden jewel of the desert after all. Getting rich here was something of a national pastime.

It was the division of it that didn't sit well with me.

Much like the city's walls, there was a very clear divide among people who had wealth, and those that did not.

It was a difference I recognized. Gridania wasn't always accepting to Duskwights. Once their walls were meant to keep people exactly like me out.

Thirdly, it was the site of one of my greatest failings.

The Coup in Blue, the Parting Glass, the dinner of the poisoned chalice.

That infamous night had many names, and Ul'dah was never the same after it. There were still wild conspiracy theorists in the streets to this very day, declaring that Nanamo had really died, replaced by someone in illusion magic or a long lost sister. That I really had killed the Sultana that day. That the Syndicate was really in charge of the city, using 'Nanamo' as a puppet queen.

If they'd met Nanamo since, I'd imagine they'd quickly revise their theories.

I wanted to laugh, but the memory of that night still tasted sour. Because of the scheming of this city, I'd lost one of my first friends in this life.

Papalymo.

I breathed out a heavy sigh, full of grief and longing for my mentor from so long ago, wondering what he'd think of my predicament.

Because here I was, slinking through the alleys for someone I wasn't even sure existed. 'Ul'dah' and 'Drusilla' wasn't exactly a lot to go on.

Pearl Lane was a bit quieter than Ruby Road, but not by much. Here men and women of all races eyed each other up like prize fighters. Who was a threat, who wasn't? I could almost see the silent considerations at each guardsman and mobster considered the other. Who was a rival, who was a ally, who was part of a competing crew for that contract? Who was a new arrival?

And as much as I tried to stay in the shadows, when one of their practised eyes spotted me silently evaluating them in the darkness of my shade covered corner, they very quickly looked away. All it ever took was one glance.

The ears marking me as an Elezen. The eyepatch over my left eye. The odd looking sword at my hip.

Not once did they approach me, instead usually moving to put a malm or two between me and them.

But I still didn't know what I was looking for. I writhed in the heat, cursing my luck. What was I doing here?

At least the weather made it all but impossible to consider the memory of Zenos and Fandaniel. It was hard to even think about being cold in this heat.

"Well. Fancy meeting you here."

Gods damn it, I hated when people walked in my blind side.

I turned my head up and left, and was surprised to Thancred, kneeling on the roof just above my head. I didn't even know he'd left Broken Glass. The fact that he was here beside me, of all places in the world to be, spoke of my friend's wanton to meddle.

He'd probably heard about my outburst at Estinien.

I said nothing, hoping my pained expression was doing enough of the talking.

Thancred nodded, as if I'd said something poignant, or graced him with a hello.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" he said, raising his hand to his brow to squint down the alley.

I let out a small hushed laugh, hoping he was joking, wishing I had a bucket of water to dump over my head.

"What are you doing here Thancred?" I asked, a bit more ice in my voice than he really deserved.

"Well, since your... interesting reunion with Zenos, Urianger and I have been trying to track down an ancient Garlean order."

I felt my one eyebrow rise, since the other one was just dead muscle. That was... not the response I expected.

"Oh?"

Thancred jumped off the roof, not enough of a fall to really bother him, landing neatly just a few feet from me. The surprise of his sudden appearence still startled a few passerby, but disappeared when he leaned against the wall beside me, his eyes beginning to scan the crowd. "In helping some of the refugees at Broken Glass, a few of them made passing mention of 'the reapers in the hills.'"

My arms stiffened, my hand almost on instinct reaching for my blade, the image of a scythe cutting through the air... Reaching for Alisae and G'raha...

I shook my head free of the memory, still feeling that horrid sword leaving my rotting hands to dispel the creature that had erupted from my body.

"What's so special about these 'reapers'?" I asked, more out of the desire to get myself back in the present moment, and not remember the cold snow and dead fingers.

Thancred shrugged. "The locals said they made pacts with Voidsent for starters."

If I was tense before, I was a chain pulled taut now.

"I'm thinking that Zenos picked up a few old habits from his forebears." Thancred said it with a smile, but upon seeing my face, turned his gaze to the people passing us by, the smile slowly disappearing like a plant starved for water.

Silence stretched between us for some time. Thancred never questioned why I spoke so little. I would speak when I was good and ready, yet another artifact from growing up in the caves of Gelmorra. You only spoke when absolutely sure nothing would hear you down there. Sound bounced malms when trapped underground, so whatever you had to say had to pretty damn important.

And Thancred enjoyed the quiet, or seemed to, just as much as I did. It was one of the things I appreciated about him.

I chose my next words with care. "So... You think remains of this ancient order are... here. In Ul'dah? And that they could tell us about Zenos and his new abilities?"

He nodded, crossing his arms as his eyes continued to dart between passerby.

"Word is there's a jump in Voidsent activity outside the walls, and a new mercenary group making waves called the 'Lemures'. Doesn't sound like much, until you convert that odd word to the Garlean tongue."

His eyes finally shifted to mine, as he said his next words with gravitas.

"It means 'Spirits of the dead' in Old Garlean."

As dread pooled in my stomach, I was beginning to think I was in the right place.

"You there! You two! Yes you!"

Both me and Thancred turned in alarm to see a flustered Hyur making a beeline towards us. He looked to be an a merchant, or attendant to a greater merchant, his coat made of some heavy green fabrics of high quality.

"I'm so sorry to bother you sirs, but the pair of you look like quite a cut above the rest of these ruffians on the street, and I'm wondering if you'd be interested in making quite a bit of coin..."

I could almost feel the exasperated sigh echoing from Thancred.

I wasn't too thrilled about this either, but it was exactly the kind of request I thrived in doing. I elbowed Thancred gently.

"Don't we only have a few more days before the assault? Why don't you go back to Broken Glass, I'll take care of this and keep an eye out for your missing cult."

Thancred mouthed a silent 'thank you' before beginning to step away, but the attendant wasn't having it.

"Really? Just you? Don't get me wrong you look fearsome, but the pair-"

Thancred's laugh was boisterous and humorous as he clapped me on the shoulder.

"Oh good sir, I quite assure you, she will be all you need and more. Trust me."

The merchant looked confused, about to say something, but Thancred turned on his boot to walked down the lane. He waved over his head, his voice already distant as he said goodbye.

"See you at Broken glass Miri."

I wanted to curse him as he retreated in the direction of the aetheryte. Turning back to the merchant in annoyance, I waited for the moment of recognition. The moment where he put the pieces together what 'Miri' could possibly be short for and recognized who I was, who exactly he was about to hire.

But it didn't happen. Some people just didn't listen to the news, too willfully ignorant.

"Oh, your name is Miri? Wonderful! Please, follow me while I tell you about my employers troubles..."

It was so normal, it was nearly bland. At least normal for Ul'dah. A merchant being accosted by some thugs, some extra muscle was needed. A 'threat' of violence to offset more violence.

Tale as old as time. Not that it ever worked.

Most likely, this would turn into a small skirmish that I could handle easily. I'd done it a hundred times, and I'd do it a hundred more. Even if my opponents recognized me, they ended up assuming that despite my fame and glory, knowing I'd thrown gods into the dirt, that just because I was one woman and they were two dozen, that numbers would overcome quality.

And it never did.

I felt... better. It was good to be strong. That despite everything that had happened, everyday people would need strong protectors. That I was still me. Still undoubtedly the strongest woman in this city, if not the entire damn continent. I felt that comfort settle about my shoulders like armour.

I meet his employer, a Lalafell high merchant named Jijilyo, who for a moment wondered if I'm part of the very crew that's after him. It's only once his attendant tells him that I'm the hired help that he warms to me.

Walking behind the merchant and his retainer, I do my best to ignore both, keeping my weathered eye on the lookout for both the gang I've been hired to counteract, and the Garlean cultists.

"... unsavoury group known as the Lemures." I near stumbled half a step, suddenly latched onto Jijilyo and his attendant with my full attention.

"Their leader demands my master part with some of his considerable wealth, or... Well, I'll just tell you they call her the 'Reaper,' and leave the rest to your imagination." The attendant's speech was touched with the bite of fear, a mix of respect and terror.

It seemed Nymeia had set me on an interesting path today.

"Rumors abound of their origins. Some say they are the detritus of some barbaric nation. They flout our laws and threaten their betters with impunity." Jijilyo said with barely held disdain.

I was beginning to like these Lemure's already. I nodded along, saying nothing as we walked down the crowded Ruby Road. Locals who knew better gave us the right of way. The others who didn't got one glance from my eye before moving. Jijilyo kept talking as if he wasn't in a crowded market.

"They're led by a dead-eyed killer who draws her scythe at the smallest slight. Refuse their payments of coin, and she takes her share of your lifeblood instead. Rubbish, I say 'the Reaper' is naught but a toothless bandit."

"... Interestin' theory you have there. Care to test it?"

Where?

I dashed around in a half circle, my eye finally spotting the speaker, leaning up against the corner of a wall. I hadn't noticed her with my attention so focused on Jijilyo and his attendant. Her moment was picked perfectly, reminding me of a Scorpion in ambush, sitting in it's dark burrow waiting for it's unsuspecting prey to walk past.

For it was exactly what she'd done.

I felt the handle of my blade in my hand while Jijilyo cursed some spitting remark, but I didn't care. I'd found what I was looking for.

Thancred's cultists. Jijilyo's bandits. The name spoken in the depths of Amdapor.

Drusilla. I'm sure of it.

"Hirin' more help while our ledgers remain unbalanced? You wouldn't be tryin' to wriggle your way out of payin' us for a job well done, would you?"

That little rotten bastard. Gods, do I hate Ul'dah.

I wanted to see if I could kick Jijilyo over the city wall, but I didn't take my eyes off the woman, the unknown threat that she was.

She looked to be an older Hyur, but if she was Garlean... The circlet on her head would perfectly hide the gem that marked her people. Her clothes were purposed for long treks, but could've just as easily been tailored for the smoothness of motion required for combat.

But most terrifyingly, the scythe on her back, it's black metal a promise of carnage.

Unable to take my eye off of it, for suddenly, it felt like I was back at that damn dinner table in the tower of Babil, breathing cursed breaths with half useless lungs that wern't mine... Looking at Zenos and that cursed looking weapon on his back.

That wasn't me. I'm here. Feel the stifling heat, the familiar grasp of your sword. I'm alive. I'm alive damn it.

The oversized gardening tool on her back suggested multiple things.

It was a complicated weapon to use. I'd known it's grip ever since Fufucha had put one in my hand to learn the Forest's bounty. I'd tried using it as a weapon for a lark, and found it serviceable, but difficult to master.

But the one on this woman's back, was for one thing, and one thing only.

It's harvest was blood.

Paying attention to the conversation once again, I realized that the conversation had moved form Jijilyo's interesting take on debts payable to mercenaries to...

Me.

"Hmm. One does wonder how you found yourself with a bodyguard of such uncommon mettle."

The woman was staring at me. Her weathered gaze examining every tension of my body, and I knew she was gauging my prowess.

"Aye, not an onze of fear in that gaze, and not a mote of puffed-up arrogance, either. This lass, my dear Jijilyo, is the genuine article. What we in the mercenary trade call the 'killer instinct.'"

My good eye squinted at that word.

Oh she wanted to talk about death? I'd killed. I'd killed plenty. The bodies of dragons, the tempered, corrupted, Ascians and gods both. My blade knew the blood of many.

The woman seemed to almost smile at the expression on my face, turning one final time to Jijilyo beside me.

"How's this? For the sake of our long-standin' friendship, I'll make it simple. Allow me to take this adventurer off your hands, and the debt is forgiven."

I raised my eyebrow as Jijilyo stated some surprise at this offer. It was a good offer.

But I was beginning to think it meant I'd be paying some price in his stead.

In an instant, Jijilyo wasn't a complete idiot, the offer was taken. the merchant and his attendant put big steaps between them and the scythe weilding woman, Leaving me alone with he despite the crowds still shuffling around us.

Her smile was filled with a promise of malice. "As for you, adventurer, it seems you've been made a free agent. But if you're still inclined to put those instincts of yours to use, come and visit our headquarters in Pearl Lane." She winked, somehow threateningly.

"The door's open."

I said nothing, staring at her with my hand still ready to draw my blade as she slunk down the street, and around the corner.

Suddenly alone, both none the richer and none the wiser for my troubles, I set off to follow her.

Pearl lane was not small, nor did I have Thancred's tracking skills. I thought for a moment that I'd lost her, never to see the old woman with the scythe ever again, before a swordsman standing guard over a sturdy door caught my eye and motioned me urgently towards him.

"You're the adventurer? The one who just had a dealing with that Jijilyo character?" He looked better armed than most, a sturdy shield on his back, a sword at his hip, a cap hiding his forehead.

A Garlean.

Thancred's cultists indeed, it seemed.

I nodded.

He motioned me to the heavy door, knocking in a series of rapid fire starts, a code of some sort to whoever was inside. A moment later, and I found myself inside a small office, where the woman sat at an oversized desk, the giant scythe leaning against the high backed chair she sat on.

"Boss, the guest of honour's arrived." The guardsman beside me intoned.

I locked my gaze with the woman once again, wondering how this was going to go. I didn't even know what I was here for. All I could hope was that she had answers.

Her sly grin made me want to beat those very answers from her. Something about her... just reeked of violence and evil. As if she was a blasted voidsent herself. "Ah, I knew you wouldn't pass up my offer. Got a hunger for somethin' more tasty than a pile of coin."

The words almost seemed perfectly poised to slide like a dagger under my defences, my heart lurching in my chest with hope.

"The Champion of Eorzea herself, appearing before me. Never thought I'd see the day."

Ah.

The guardsman did a double take beside me, his hand reaching for his blade, but the woman held a hand to stop him, her gaze not leaving mine.

"Aye, I've heard all about you. It's hard not to in this line of work. The stories paint you as ferocity incarnate, a force of nature few have survived."

It sounded for a moment like a challenge. My hand griped my blade in readiness. I'd had too many tests of my skills over the years, would-be mentors assured of themselves to be my betters. But her eyes glistened with mirth.

"Peace, friend. I've no desire to put the killer to the proof personally. I don't have a death wish. You can call me-"

"Drusilla." I said quietly, the first word I'd spoken in her presence.

Silence stretched between us for a moment, but if anything, her smile got wider.

"You... know of me?" She asked, leaning forward on the table to rest her chin on her hands.

I nodded, taking a single step forward, my hand still on my blade.

"I've heard your name." I said quietly, my voice a knife through the silence. "Once." I recalled the voice in the darkness perfectly, as if it's breath was still on my skin.

She was silent, staring at me for something I didn't recognize. "Leave us." Drusilla intoned a breath later, her eyes not moving from mine, but the command obvious to who it was to.

"Boss." The guardsman nodded, before stepping out the door we'd come, leaving me alone with Drusilla.

Once the door was closed, she picked out a small black stone out of her pocket, sliding it over the desk to a rest in front of me.

A soul crystal.

It sat there ominously, with all the subtly of Dalamud falling from the sky.

"I did have a job for you in mind. But you have... somethin' you need to sort out before you do anything for me."

I didn't know what she was saying, what she was insinuating, but I took another step closer.

"What are you?" I asked, the feeling of threat still not leaving my body. The aura of her very person felt... wrong.

"A Reaper." She stated, as if this answered anything. The look of my face must've showed my confusion, because after a sigh, she explained.

"Years ago, I made a pact with a voidsent... For power. For revenge. For... all the stupid reasons someone does. All of them noble, but yet it still put me on the path of blood."

She pointed to the soulstone.

"That, is mine. It allows us to make the pact. It belonged to the grandmaster of the Lemure before me, and the grandmaster before him and so on. To pick it up, to attune with it, is to become a Reaper like me. To know the call of the void. To meld with a hunger that you can't ever separate from."

She flicked her gaze back to me, as her words settled into my bones.

"And that's just if you're made of the stuff I think you are. That's not even talking about the pact."

I took another quiet and tentative step forward. Unsure if I was stepping towards my doom.

"What is the pact?" I asked, my voice somehow not shaking despite the terror I felt in my gut.

Drusilla shrugged. "That's between you and the particular voidsent you make your pact with. Some just want to be fed the souls of your enemies. Some want to experience life here on the source. The pact gives them the gift of gab, as it were. Well, that and then some." Drusilla smiled as if I was in on some joke.

I was increasingly feeling like I was being the butt end of that joke.

"And what do you gain from a pact?" I asked, taking one more step. The stone was within reach now, I could just take it.

Drusilla's eyes clouded over, as she looked far away to something long ago.

"Power." She whispered.

I breathed in, tensing as my fingers finally left the hilt of my sword, reaching for the stone. The desire to save my world, my friends, my family... All from the madness of Zenos and the inevitability of the Final Days.

It was here for the taking.

I paused in mid-air, wondering.

Fury, is this what you want of me? Hydaelyn? Nymeia?

I asked all of my protectors, my gods, if this was what was fated for me.

The Fury, the patron I'd had since birth. I invoked her with my spear, yet she'd failed me. I'd lost an eye screaming her name bleeding in the dirt of Rhalgar's Reach.

Hydaelyn, who claimed me as her champion, despite never having made the choice to enter her service. Sometimes I felt more her tool than her child, and her silence ever since the ship entering sharlayan harbour... The secrets she still kept... It tested my patience.

Nymeia, the goddess of fate. She guided us all, did she not? What would stop her from fating me to this path, or from it? Did I really have a choice? Did it even matter?

All of this to take up my enemies bargain once more, to spite him. To adopt his weapon, take up the same bargain that he'd made, so that maybe this time, I would be strong enough to end him once and for all. And then, have be strong enough to save the gods damned world from the Final Days.

"And gods, what power you could wield, with everything you have on offer I wonder." Drusilla intoned, a hand rubbing at her chin. Seeming to speak to my exact hope as if she'd read my mind. "You could be the best of us."

My fingers were just an ilm from the stone.

My gods had no answers for me.

I brushed the face of the stone with the tip of my finger, suddenly filled with a yearning I could not deny.

I picked up the stone.

Drusilla watched me as I held it in my hand, It's metal cool in my palm, a balm against the stifling heat, my eye taking in it's black onyx, the carved symbol of yellow in it's face.

And slowly, that breath of fresh coolness settled into my skin as not my memories, but the muscle memories of a dozen or more masters of void and scythe settled into my muscles. Suddenly I could feel how my grip in holding a scythe when I'd tried using as a weapon so long ago was just wrong.

That I knew that spinning it just so would throw weight into a cut. That a wide arc was some of it's most powerful attacks. That a sudden stop and pull was violent and messy, but brutal and effective.

And that once paired with a voidsent in a pact... That sycthes were perfect for combat.

All that aether and blood spilled, was perfect food for pactmates.

Pactmates.

I shuddered as the word became familiar in my consciousness.

The coolness settled into my skin, sending a wave of goosebumps up my back, and I could've swore the cursed temperature dropped a few degrees. The heat suddenly not so stifling...

And there, just barely audible... Was a quiet whisper in my ear, the trace of teeth on my earlobe.

Good... Come back.

I looked around, trying to find the source of the whisper, a sudden lurch in the pit of my stomach pulling me towards the door. I needed to follow that feeling. It was like a slow tug across space and time. I eyed the door greedily, as if it were my next meal and I a starving pauper.

That was how needy this... this tug felt.

"That's it. I knew you had what it takes."

I turned my gaze in alarm towards Drusilla, who no longer reeked of threat. Now... She felt like a kindred spirit. A friend. I knew the movements of her body in combat as if I'd practised beside her my whole life.

Standing in a sudden rush, she did not reach for her weapon, but instead walked over to to a tall cabinet, opening it to reveal an aged and pockmarked scythe, it's age not betraying it's deadliness.

"This was my grandfathers. And now, it is yours." She plucked it from it's hanger, the weight while looking stupidly heavy, looked light as my own blade in her grip. She held it out to me, as if a present on my name day.

The soul crystal was still in my hand, and much like the others in my collection, now felt... a part of me. Separating from it felt like throwing away a limb. I pocketed it for now, determined to find a spot for it in a necklace or bracelet, now looking towards my new weapon with excitement and dread.

"Go. Find your avatar, make your pact, and then come back to me." Drusilla said quietly, placing the scythe into my waiting hands with all the grace of a mother placing a untenable burden onto her child.

Little did I know how true that metaphor would come to be.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I see that the asks are opened well here's an ask of mine, could you do fnaf 1 group + shadow Freddy, 39 (fnw39) and Marinette with reader who is a cyborg or reader who is a shadow creature that can shadow warp and take forms that look like the others but the only sustenance they can get is eating souls of the night guards and blood and is slient for awhile until they say a word after becoming friends with them

FNAF 1 (Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, Golden Freddy)

The main band found you lurking after hours when they killed a nightguard.

Bonnie noticed you in the backroom, staring at the spare Freddy suit that held their corpse...only for you to suddenly vanish in a blur of shadows.

He goes in and finds out the suit’s not leaking as much red like his once did.

Turns out, you took the guard’s blood (and soul) for sustenance.

But you can’t take the children’s souls within the animatronics since you can only absorb them from living humans.

Besides, their souls had latched onto their metal/fabric vessels rather tightly, making it impossible anyway.

So instead, you decide to stay and introduce yourself to the group, entertaining them with your shadow tricks.

You’d turn into a Shadow Foxy to roleplay as Foxy’s first mate or “evil twin”.

Usually you’re silent, but for the sake of making your new friends smile, you do talk a little bit while roleplaying.

At some point, you did see Golden Freddy at the back of the dining room, watching the show. But he disappears before you can get a closer look.

Turns out you’re not the only enigma.

Shadow Freddy

When he sees you around the pizzeria, he’s thinking ‘okay who else died in the springlock suit???’

But you remain elusive and he's puzzled st your behavior.

Why do you shapeshift into shadows of the other animatronics and patrons??

Why do you take the souls of nightguards and feast on their blood??

Meanwhile Shadow Bonnie became bffs with you and doesn’t seem bothered by this. He even says you talk! (even tho you’ve only said “hello” to him once as a Shadow BB).

So one day Shadow Freddy visits you while you’re a Shadow Toy Freddy and asks if you’re a deceased springlock victim.

You just shrug (with RXQ adding that you need some time to warm up to him).

In time you do, and you make small talk with the purplish bear.

39 the Bunny

As a rabbit who gets scared by a literal “Spook” button--he’s probably gonna cry, scream, and throw up when he sees you.

Especially when you mimic him as a prank. You don’t mean to. You’re just trying to test the limits of your shadow abilities.

But it’s sometimes funny seeing him trip over ladders as he runs away. Though bc you feel bad, you’ll warp those obstacles out of existence.

Plushie39 likes you and thinks 39′s a total pussy and forces him to befriend you since he wouldn’t shut up about having no friends.

Eventually you work up the courage to make conversation with him, saying a simple “hey”.

Bro is flabbergasted.

“Oi!!! You speak!!!! And here I was thinkin’ you were some silent stalker or somethin’.”

He gets a boop on the nose for his rudeness.

Puppet

As the guardian of the pizzeria, she notices all the paranormal stuff that happens.

Including how the dead nightguards (who were killed by mistake) were left without souls and blood, becoming nothing more than husks overnight.

And there’s of course you taking on the forms of animatronics, herself included, and her curiosity about you is ever growing.

Soon she does find you lurking around the Prize Corner, admiring the plushies.

Wondering what you’ll do, she lets you hold one and sees you cradle it, before smiling at her.

“Thanks.” Is all you whisper before vanishing back into your shadow realm and taking the plushie with you.

Huh. You’re definitely fascinating. Neither human nor animatronic. She knows she'll see you again soon.

[chaozsilhouette]

A Revealing Performance

My rendition for the Shadow Play in @winterpower98's Swap Au.

It was supposed to be a simple thing, then it sort of spiraled into this whole deal. For the effects of the Shadow Lantern, I drew some inspiration from her Cursed Au as I never thought simply using her friends was cruel enough for the Monkey Tyrant.

It serves to show just how far Macaque has grown, but also to highlight just how monstrous he was.

_____________________________

Mei refrained from downing her bubble tea as she waited for the play to start. It had been a rough couple of weeks with Spider Queen and that creepy girl. And failing to find where Xiaotian had run off to after the misunderstanding. When Macaque sent her tickets to the local theatre, she was ashamed to think it was a trap.

Pigsy and Sandy were right. After everything that happened, she needed some serious me time. She had been too stressed.

Besides, everyone knew Macaque was a total theatre nerd. Few people knew that the star puppeteer was actually the Six-Eared Macaque himself. He would totally send her tickets from his stomping grounds as a way to unwind.

It was a shame that Tang couldn’t join them. Apparently, he finally managed to schedule a meeting with the Celestial Realm and was Taking the demon brothers to figure out a new way of sealing the Monkey Tyrant. It was also his chance to explain their little break-in during New Years. He encouraged her to have fun and if it was good, he’d join them for the next showing.

So here they were waiting for the performance to start. Although she wondered what the fake mayor was doing here. They hadn't seen him since he gave her the skeleton key. Still wasn't sure why he had it or why he gave it to her? Supposedly she was only supposed to have it for a day, but he never stopped by to pick it up.

_____________________________

Sun Wukong was a monkey of many talents, but even he had to admit Macaque was a far better storyteller and his mastery of shadows was sheer perfection. But that just made this plan all the more perfect. What better way to teach his wayward beloved’s little flower a lesson than through a trusted medium.

Obtaining a spot in the local theatre was child’s play, a little magic and they were all but begging him to take center stage. Apparently, they had been scrambling to find a new performer after their star puppeteer had to leave for a family emergency (three guesses as to who that was). And with a little glamor, a set of tickets was left at the little flower's doorstep. As far as she knew, Macaque was proud of her progress and believed she had deserved a reward for all her hard work. She was so desperate for something to go right she hardly questioned how her mentor, who was in parts unknown, managed to secure tickets for a new performer.

In his personal dressing room, Wukong delicately touched up his human disguise. Even if he was going to be hidden in his hanfu and cloak, it wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise. Applying his eye shadow with artful flair, the Monkey King took time to appreciate just how handsome he truly was no matter what form he took. Honestly, who would have thought such perfection existed?

A pulse of dark magic drew his attention to his latest partner in crime.

The Shadow Lantern gently floated before him. Its dark magic practically purring at the thought of being used. Wukong could almost laugh at his beloved’s foolishness. He was there when his darling created the lantern, when he infused his own shadows into its very foundation. Did he honestly think such a masterpiece would tolerate being left to collect dust in a cave?

Normally a magical artifact would never consider turning on its master, but after centuries of abandonment, all Wukong had to do was whisper his intentions to return Macaque to his former self to secure its loyalty. The second he first made contact, he could sense a twisted hunger writhing within and with each performance granting it the chance to feed on the life essence of the viewers…. hehe, he almost couldn’t contain himself.

Looking up at the clock, he saw it was just about time for his next performance. His clones had reported the girl’s presence along with the pig and the water demon. Strangely the one with glasses and the little matchstick was absent. No matter, he could make do with two hostages just fine.

After all, the show must go on.

_____________________________

The overhead lights dimmed, signaling the start of the play. Smoke slowly poured from beneath the floorboards, generating an air of mystery. In a flash of golden light, a tall man wearing a beautiful cloak manifested on center stage. The crowd silenced themselves at the display.

“Welcome viewers to a performance you shall never forget!” From the folds of his sleeves, an exquisite lantern floated in front of him. A mesmerizing yet familiar purple glow emanating from the center.

“Our tale tonight is one of love, companionship, and how even the strongest of bonds can be severed through the trickery of the wicked.”

In the background, the shadows twisted and grew in the lantern’s light. Carefully they formed a beautiful scene of a mountain covered in flowers and trees. Attention was gradually guided to the top, where a round stone basked in the sun.

“It all began with the birth of a King.”

The round stone broke, revealing a figure that resembled a monkey. But no, this was a monkey demon, a monkie if you would. The King journeyed down the mountain until he found a tribe of normal monkeys. The group frolicked for a while as the King established himself as the undisputed ruler of the tribe.

A large figure with an ax appeared. The monster brought down his ax upon a small collection of monkeys only to be stopped at the last second by the King. The King used his superior strength to steal the demon’s ax and used it to decapitate the intruder in a single stroke. The monkeys jumped around the King and praised his strength, but the King did not appear satisfied.

“The young King was born with great power and strength, but he sought out more to protect his people.”

The King crafted a raft and set out on a dangerous sea. The King was shown to face off against mountain gods, human warriors, and demonic sorcerers always to reign victorious but never satisfied.

“In his travels, he learned much and faced many enemies, in time his efforts were handsomely rewarded.”

The King climbed a fleet of stairs carved into a mountain to reach a humble monastery. At the top, a stern human stood, but behind him was another monkie. This one however possessed six ears.

“His quest for power led him to a Warrior of potential equaling his own. At first, neither was sure how to react to their mirror, but they quickly forged a comradery that took them far.”

The two monkies trained together, mastering new powers as they sparred.

“Their time together increased their power exponentially and as they grew stronger their feelings blossomed into something beautiful.”

The two were on a cliff overlooking the stars, slowly leaning closer to one another. Eventually, the two faced their opposite and leaned in close.

“Their fates had become intertwined. Their power was unmatched. It was then the King realized what he had been searching for all this time.”

The two shadows merged together in a complex dance until they separated into two beings once again, but not as they began. The two monkeys were now garbed in elaborate, yet practical armor and silks. The King wielded a staff and the Warrior took up a spear.

“Slowly their strength grew to where nothing could challenge them, whether in the Celestial Realm or on Earth.”

The King and Warrior were shown battling heavenly armies and powerful demons with confident smirks. Each battle resoundingly won through their combination of speed, strength, and cunning.

“But it was not enough. The King wished to ensure that he and the Warrior would be able to fight together forever and sought the power and respect needed to secure their future.”

The King took to the Heavens, where he stood before an Emperor in the most extravagant outfit, surrounded by massive guards in magical armor. The Emperor was clearly afraid as the King effortlessly toppled one guard after another, slowly approaching the throne at a steady pace.

“The King’s noble actions were viewed negatively by those who feared his ever-growing power. Eventually, a prison was crafted that could restrain the King, one that not even his beloved Warrior could destroy.”

Just before the King’s latest attack could reach the Emperor, chains wrapped around his limbs and dragged him down to Earth. With a quick flex, the chains shattered, but the King was doomed as a mountain landed on him with a seal placed at the top. The Warrior tried to pry off the seal or find some way to weaken the mountain, his acts growing more desperate with time, yet nothing worked.

“Cruelly, the King was forced to wait until he could be freed, forced to watch his precious Warrior defend their Kingdom on his own.”

With a heavy expression, the Warrior abandoned his efforts to return to the original mountain as dozens of terrifying figures surrounded the monkey inhabitants.

“Centuries passed and their love still burned strong. Soon their patience was rewarded, the King was freed but he was soon trapped in a new prison.”

A monk approached the mountain and removed the seal. The King swiftly destroyed the mountain. The monk humbly bowed to the King and offered fresh clothing and a fillet. The King garbed himself in the gifts only to collapse in agony when the monk prayed.

“Enraged the King played along until the time was right. The King and the Warrior reunited in secret and crafted a plan that would allow them to take their revenge on those that dared to separate them.”

The two monkies hugged and nuzzled each other in appreciation. A quick conversation later, the Warrior changed to resemble the King and joined the monk as the King headed into unknown lands.

“Decades later the King was ready to retrieve his love, confident in his regained strength. But when he arrived the Warrior had changed. It was as if the warrior had lost a crucial part of himself. The Warrior tried to dissuade the King from killing the monk and his companions. He even tried to convince him to give up his rage at the Celestial Realm, believing the war that would ensue wasn't worth it.”

The disguised Warrior was traveling with four colorful characters. The King dropped from the sky in front of the group, a massive crater forming around him. The Warrior regained his true form, but instead of returning to his rightful place, he blocked the King’s view of the monk.

“The King could not believe his ears. This could not be his Warrior. His love always understood his goals and knew why heaven had to pay. The King knew this change was the monk’s fault. The King moved to silence the deceiver in one quick strike only to find it blocked by the Warrior.”

The King and Warrior exchanged blows that tore mountains asunder, split the heavens, and burned down forests. The other demons following the monk tried to aid the warrior, but nothing they did seemed to slow down the King, if anything their attacks only served to further enrage him.

“The two clashed until the Warrior fled with the jailers. Time and time again they clashed, but never could the King reach the Warrior he held in his heart.”

The group fled from the battle, but time and time again the King tracked them down. The locations may have changed, but the carnage after each battle remained as world-shattering as the first. In the end, the Group managed to truly escape, and the Warrior vanished into the shadows he wielded, leaving the King alone with nothing but his memories.

“Even now the King yearns for the companionship of his beloved Warrior, knowing that at his core the Warrior craves the same.”

With the final line sending shivers down the spines of the viewers, the puppeteer vanished in a flash of light.

_____________________________

As Mei waited for her family to walk out, she couldn’t help but think about the play. It almost sounded like they were telling the tale of the Monkey King. But that was ridiculous. No one knew the Monkey King’s origins aside from minor details from the Journey to the West. Besides the narrator seemed to view the Monkey Tryant as a hero and victim. Clearly, that guy needed a reality check.

“Hello, young one.” Nearly choking on the remainder of her tea, Mei turned to see the puppeteer standing behind her with a knowing smile.

His cloak shrouding the top of his face in shadow. For a second, Mei envisioned her father Macaque. He would adore that look. Actually, didn’t she see a similar outfit in his closet on Flower Fruit Mountain? Doesn’t he wear that outfit when he’s hosting a shadow play?

Wait. How did he sneak up on her like that? Was she that out of it?

How long has she been quiet? Crap! Say something! “Oh. Ah-hello. C-can I help you with something?”

“I was about to ask the same. You do know the theatre is going to close soon right?”

“What?” Mei grabbed her phone. The digital clock flashed that it was past nine. That couldn’t be right. That meant she had been waiting for nearly an hour. But where were the others? Surely, they wouldn’t have left without telling her. Were they in trouble?

“Is everything alright?”

“Ah- yeah, everything’s fine.” It’s cool. It’s cool. She could handle this. She just needed to stay calm. “No need to worry about me. I just ah-I have a few questions about your play.”

“Yes.”

“How did you could up with the concept? I mean, no offense, but your premise could be taken the wrong way.” Maybe it was the panic over where her family had disappeared to, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being sized up.

“Hm. Have you ever heard the expression ‘History is written by the winners’?”

“Yes. It’s pretty common.” Like one of the most used sayings in the world.

“The tale was designed to show that love is one of the most cherished feelings of all and that in order to protect it, one must be willing to do anything to keep their loved ones safe. The King only wished to keep his beloved by his side, but the Warrior was misled and forced to battle against his love. That story may belong to only two, but similar tales can be experienced in anyone’s life. Tell me, can you think of a time you fought with those you cared about due to a misunderstanding?”

Without even considering it, horrible memories resurfaced. Mei arguing with MK as she tried to stop him from leaving with the newly released Monkey King. Mei forced to battle Red Son as his mind was slowly consumed by the True Fire of Samadhi. Tang lying to them about his true identity. Macaque leaving when they needed him most without saying why.

“I see you can.” The puppeteer gently guided her back into the main hall, where she took a seat on an empty bench.

“It’s nothing. I just-” She honestly didn’t know why she was pouring out her heart to stranger. Maybe she really was that exhausted. “-there’s so much going on and I’m supposed to be strong no matter what. But sometimes it hurts, just thinking about all my mistakes. Sometimes I wonder if I truly am strong. What if bringing me into this was a mistake?”

“What if it was?” That voice!

Mei turned to see Macaque garbed in a strange outfit, one that honestly reminded her of the Monkey King’s. She was confused. She had never seen him wear anything like that, he looked like the Monkey King’s twisted shadow.

And that expression! Her father Macaque had never made that face before. It looked as though he was reveling in her suffering.

“What’s the matter, little jade? Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone.” He extended a hand slowly with the intent to cradle her face. A normal gesture he would use to comfort her, but her every instinct was screaming at her to get away.

Mei jumped to her feet and pulled out her spear, aiming it right between the imposter’s eyes. “Enough games!”

Macaque stared at the spear for a second, his fiendish expression only growing more vicious. He threw his head back with a full-bodied laugh, showing how little he thought of her threat. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

In a flash of light, the Monkey Tyrant was standing before her, still wearing his puppeteer disguise. “Wow. About time. For a while, I was wondering if you’d ever figure out it was me.” His red and gold eyes carefully roved over her body, taking in every shake and fearful twitch. “Put down the spear, kid. We both know you’re not nearly good enough to scratch me with such a pitiful copy of the Dragon Blade.”

That may have been true, but she’d sooner make out with DBP in full view of Queen Iron Fan than leave herself completely open before this tyrant. “So the play was from your perspective. I always figured you were delusional, but this is a new low. Where is my family?” She all but growled, unknowingly her canines had slightly elongated in response to her rage.

“They never left. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize this.” The Monkey King took out the lantern, once more bathing the room in that familiar glow.

“What’s the big deal about a lantern?”

The stone monkie found her ignorance all the more entertaining. To think he hadn’t warned her of his own past.

“The big deal is that my dear warrior crafted this lantern long ago. It was his finest work and like everything he made it has multiple uses.” With a simple hand gesture, the silhouettes of Pigsy and Sandy appeared on the walls. “The Shadow Lantern can do more than enhance one’s skills in shadow magic, it can trap the bodies and souls of its targets. So long as the targets are trapped, the lantern can steal the shadows of its victims so its master can use them as a personal army until there is nothing left.”

“You expect me to believe Macaque made something so disgusting?” Even as Mei said it, she couldn’t help but recognize how similar the lantern’s magic was to her teacher’s. It was cool and soothing, but on the edge, there was an unmistakable edge of malice. “Even if he did, I doubt he made it without you whispering in his ears.”

“Oh child, you have no idea how many secrets he keeps from you. Let me share one with you.” The lantern grew brighter, and the silhouettes of her family members gained more substance as they peeled away from the walls.

Mei adjusted herself so all opponents were in her sight, but nothing could stop the sweat collecting on her forehead.

She sensed something powerful appear behind her. Jumping out of the way as a spear nearly severed her arm. She faced her new opponent. Only to almost drop her weapon.

Standing before her was another copy of Macaque only this one was even more disturbing. Its eyes burned with purple light, the shadows loving curled around it, but worst of all was the sneer filled with razor-tipped teeth.

“Did you honestly think my love was always so nice?”

[shokami]

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

© All rights reserved by SHOKAMI. Do not modify, repost on any platforms, plagiarize, or claim as your own.

[danielxricciardo]

Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

[cerastes]

May I request a review of general coolness and awesome of the horses we saw during the event?

Right, Maria Nearl event!

I liked the event quite a lot, though I do feel like it dropped the ball at the end. That aside, I had a lot of fun the entire time!

First of all, the cast was wonderful. Maria is explicitly not a powerful or skilled fighter to any degree that matters in the frame of strength the story takes place in, being definitely more skilled than the average person and even the average nameless knight, but being woefully outclassed by practically anyone that has a name in the Major. A humble mechanic with a heart drenched in justice, Maria doesn’t even like to fight, and adheres to a knightly ideal and a duty she must fulfill instead to justify her participation in these commercialized bloodsports, which carries the narrative. She is joined by a lovable cast of rambunctious family and family friends, who serve as her mentors and support: Her aunt, who is more akin to an older sister-slash-maternal figure, Zofia, who we are immediately shown is so close to Maria that the moment Maria made a big decision (the participation in the Major) without confirming with Zofia first, she immediately chastised her, wondering why she did not consult with her beforehand. Aunt Zofia is her aunt only due to technicality, as she’s a lady-in-waiting (or, in other words, belongs to a branch family of the Nearl clan, and is actually only 5 years older than Maria) and, more importantly, a decorated, retired competition knight who earned enough in her career that she can live comfortably for the rest of her life, ironically far outstripping the main Nearl house in terms of wealth. There’s also Kowal, an old Ursus mechanic, engineer and smith who mentors Maria in the ways of the wrench, willing to pass his workshop to Maria with her as his successor any day of the week, who himself also used to be a squire to V, an old, retired knight of old who served as Grandpa Nearl’s peerless sharpshooter and who trained Zofia back in the day. Finally, we have Old Marcin, owner of the cast’s favorite hangout, a little bar where he and Maria mediate the infinite squabbles, fights, and arguments that Kowal, V, and occasionally Zofia spark between one another. The event does a great work of introducing the dynamic between these five characters as something extremely domestic and comfortable: You can tell these five are tight and that they have spent a long time together. It’s just another day in their low profile lives when, suddenly, Maria dons Margaret’s old armor and decides to take arms for the main Nearl house, which is currently on the brink of ruin and about to lose its knighthood and nobility titles.

And this decision, and everything this decision means, informs everything that happens afterwards: Zofia tells Maria that if she’s worried about being left homeless, then that’s just foolishness, since Zofia is absolutely 100% ok with Maria moving in with her. She’s loaded. They can live comfortably for the rest of their lives without a concern. Kowal, likewise, insists that Maria is a good enough mechanic that she can earn a living by doing that. But, see, it’s not about a livelihood for Maria, it’s about preserving that for which Margaret and Grandpa Nearl fought and stood for, it’s never about the wealth, it’s about the name, the principle, not the glory, the weight of ideals that blood was shed to nourish and maintain. Maria is not even sure if she’s doing the right thing, but she’s got to do something. Why? Look no further than Uncle Mlynar. A bitter man, a corporate slave, spitting bile at her niece and apologies at his bosses. And the fact that it is very clear that this guy can kick some serious ass -- we never see him without his trusty blade hanging on his hip and, at the end, tells Margaret to square the hell up -- makes it all the sadder: In any other context, Mlynar might be a knight’s knight, hell, Margaret herself says she respects him still, but the Mlynar we see now is an unimportant cog in the capitalist system, just another grunt apologizing to his phone every time his lips part, who gets in hot water just by making small talk because, whoops, your workload accumulated again, better get chop chopping. Mlynar is a very telling character, because he represents everything Maria resents about the current state of the Nearl family: Disgraced, meaningless, existing as an extension of other bigger conglomerates. He is what she wishes to never become, and what the Nearl house cannot be any longer, if she has any saying on the matter.

Maria is not a good fighter. This is important and delightful, because she wins not due to aptitude, strength, or experience, she instead uses her knowledge as a mechanic, her “pegasian sight” (what Grandpa uses to refer to Maria’s incredibly powerful investigative faculties, being able to analyze situations and catch even the smallest details quickly) and the sheer heft of her brass pair of metaphorical horse balls to pull through with clutch victory after clutch victory. Zofia trying to cram as much fundamentals as she can on Maria in as little time as possible so she can survive also helps a lot.

Maria’s victories earn her the possibility of sponsorships, which would, superficially, fix her problems: The main Nearl house would retain status, she’d get a Title, and she would not have to fight anymore. But, see, this is not the point of Maria’s fight. One might say “Maria should’ve just taken the sponsorships”, but that’s not the point of Maria’s fight. She is pushing back against this highly commercialized view on “knighthood”, just like Margaret before her did. Margaret had a clear intent and her passions made her act mostly in anger, as she makes no secret: She hates Kazimierz for what it has become. Maria’s intent is less clear, even to herself, but she’s very much aiming for the same thing, but instead of Margaret’s anger, Maria has her determination. To have taken any sponsorship would have superficially kept the Nearl house afloat, but Maria is not looking to keep the house alone afloat, she’s looking to keep the house and the ideals in which it was built afloat. It goes beyond mere status.

In a world as bleak as Arknights’ and specially Kazimierz, Maria is no doubt naive to the point of frustration... But it is that which we call naive that makes a knight’s knight: Chivalry forged from ideals, sacrifice’s blunt borne from beliefs. The easy way out would’ve ultimately doomed her story, hence why she did not just move in with Zofia, hence why she did not just succeed Kowal and accept his workshop, hence why did not accept a sponsorship: It never was about that.

The very first event of the game, Grani’s Treasure, takes place in Kazimierz as well, but in the isolated outskirts, and we see hard-working, honest people, inhabitants of a nice little scenic hamlet. Now, we see what Kazimierz really looks like: A sprawling megalopolis of neon and concrete where the system shamelessly feeds on whoever sticks out their neck. The contrast couldn’t be harsher, and any hell is upheld by its demons: Czarny was a fascinating character, in that he very clearly held a lot of influence and power... And was extremely replaceable. The moment he messed up badly enough, he was instantly replaced by just whoever the hell picked up the phone next. It’s chilling. One puppet performed poorly? Irrelevant, there’s an endless supply who’ll take his place, provided enough fear and funds. Fear and money. The two currencies of Kazimierz. When a shadow council can just appoint you as the next Spokesman just on basis of you having picked up a phone without any real background check beyond “the previous Spokesman likely intended for this next sack of meat to pick up his phone in case he messed up”, well, congratulations, you’ve crafted a terrifying capitalist hellscape. No wonder Margaret hates Kazimierz so much, given the rot brewing in its underbelly and upper echelons.

And to all this, I have to say: It’s lovely. I loved the world building, implicit and explicit, I loved the cast, I love the themes explored and how characters were used to juxtapose these.

I feel it kinda drops the ball at the end by just... Not having a conclusion? It just sort of ends, which is very weird because events tend to be good at concluding themselves. I assumed we’d get some post-Challenge stages cutscenes to tie everything up like in the past but... No, not really, it didn’t happen. Margaret swoops in, the sisters perform the Ultimate Kamehameha on the Sarkazian Knights, and then it sort of ends one brief talk later. It needed a bigger epilogue, for sure. But this doesn’t ruin the event or anything, just a bit of a weak ending, everything else is still delightful and I loved it very much.

So yeah! The horses sure were wonderful!

[shorkbrian]

Problem

Prelude - Don’t come @ me pls I tried to be pOeTiC and artsy okay lol

Pairing - Keigo Takami X Reader

Warnings - no NSFW, religion, blood mention, nonconsensual touching.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/4SQ0ytpTP8v1Rx8FWR22cv?si=d_i0QJowT9yF-b6rZMOKvw

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

People often don’t notice the little, gradual problems.

Cluttered desks, dishes in the sink.

The thing that stands in the corner at night.

You only noticed it after it started to move, creeping closer, sitting in your chair, bright golden eyes piercing through the dark.

His name is Keigo, he tells you, and there’s no reason to be afraid.

Of course, that doesn’t stop fear from icing over your veins, stomach twisting, hands clutching at your blankets as if they were a shield to protect you from the strange entity that had haunted your bedroom for so long. You had done so well, pretending that the shadow was nothing but a trick of the light, that there was nothing there except a chair filled with dirty clothes.

He doesn’t come any closer, crosses his legs in the chair he occupies, tilting his head as the two of you stare at each other.

His name is Keigo, and he’s an angel.

-----

The angel has been with you all your life.

He is able to recount the days you’d spent in your room, crying and begging God for something different, to take your pain away. The moments you thought you had been alone, forgotten.

The troubles you’d overcome, the faint flashes of happiness that filled your life and made you feel light and warm.  Keigo even remembered the color of your bedroom walls in your childhood home, the small scribbles you’d made in the corners, near the baseboards. How you’d get in trouble for leaving your mark on your world, be punished for taking up space.

You were too young to remember that.

But Keigo remembers.

He was there for all of it.

When you confide in him your fears, small whispered thoughts, Keigo listens.

“I feel so lonely all the time.”

“You may feel lonely, but you’re never alone. The plants in your window love you, for you give them life. Your bed welcomes you with the arms of a lover after a long day, loves to hold you in it’s embrace. The ground welcomes the steps of your feet, how you shape it’s very existence just by being present. You’re an entire ecosystem, your flesh sculpted from the earth. Your blood is brewed from rainwater, thousands of creatures live inside of you and on your skin. And of course, you have me. I am never far from you, you’re never truly alone.”

Life doesn’t seem as bad.

-----

The angel usually only appears at night, when you’re tucked in bed, fresh from a shower. You’ve come to like his visits, no longer feel trepidation when he shows up in the corner, materializing out of thin air.

He doesn’t look like what you think he should. There are no heavy wings, no  countless eyes, no sharp halo adorning his head. No white robes or silken clothes, just tattered jeans and a hoodie.

But he doesn’t look exactly human either, with his golden skin and molten eyes. His fingers are long and slender, made for music and praise. The curve of his soft lips makes it easier for him to worship, to condemn or guide his charge.  Hair that looks too soft, like liquid gold that flows from his scalp. You want to touch, but you’re afraid to ask.

You notice that the plants in your house flourish at night, when Keigo is around. The tender stalks seem to reach for his presence, follow his form greedily, as if he has a gift that he’s withholding from them. Flowers bloom and vie for his attention, and Keigo laughs, touches the petals gently and watches the blossoms burst with color and growth.

His existence as an angel is unquestioned, not when he proves to you that he knows you to a degree that you don’t even know yourself. The freckles decorating your skin, those are all from him. It’s true that they’re angel kisses, given to the people they favor, that they watch grow.

They’d dusted across your nose as a child, light and varied. Darkened as you’d gotten older, appearing on your hands and peppered over your face in no particular pattern.

It makes you blush, and at first you don’t believe him, thinking he’s playing with you. But Keigo moves to the edge of your bed, gently takes one of your hands in his own, and lifts it to his lips.

A freckle appears when they press to your skin, a dark mark pushing to the surface.

You spend the next day looking at each of your freckles in the mirror, studying the marks that mar your skin. They’re sprinkled across your shoulders, you’re collarbone, your ankles. It’s strange to think that each mark is evidence of a kiss. Why would the angel kiss you?

When you ask him the next night he visits, Keigo pauses.

“Sometimes… there’s a hole in your soul, and that’s just the way things are. And you try to fill it with various things; songs that make your heart waltz, views that make your eyes long for more, raindrops against your skin. I’ve found the most effective way to fill it is with being with the person who makes the world seem less bad.”

How can an angel feel incomplete? “Are you not God’s perfect creation?” You ask.

Keigo sighs, and says no more.

-----

“Why is that book your favorite?” Keigo has read it before, scouring the pages to try and find pieces of you in it. He’s read all of your books, picked up every single thing you’ve ever touched, ever looked at, jealous of the way it had caught your attention.

You don’t know.

You don’t know why you love the book clutched in your hands. You just do. Keigo thinks he understands.

He’s been visiting earlier and earlier, while the sun still rests above the horizon. The angel never asks about your day, he’s there for every moment, just never visible to you.

He’s the warmth that soothes your skin when it’s cold out, when you’re afraid that your jacket won’t be enough to stave off the chill.  Keigo whispers reminders into your ear, a little tickle that helps you remember to turn in sale reports on time, or what time you’re supposed to meet with a new client.  He never gets the credit for all that he does, but that’s okay.

Your thoughts turn to him constantly, mind churning with questions. Why show himself now? Is that allowed? What is heaven like? Is God kind?

Keigo brushes these questions off, frowns when you ask them. He won’t talk about his holy father, nor his own role as a guardian angel. You learn to hold your tongue.

The angel prefers to talk with you, or sit in silence as you tend to your evening tasks. You think he might be lonely.

——-

You wake up sometimes with warmth still on your skin, more freckles dotting along your body.  But there’s already so many, the new ones go unnoticed.

Keigo is never around those days.

“Why do you not visit?” You ask him, saddened by his absence. Was it something you did wrong? Were you no longer worthy of his presence?

“I met someone that reminds me of warm toned skies. I’m afraid of what I might do to them.”

You don’t know what that means. Asking the angel to clarify results in a long silence, and you look out the window of your house to take in the stars, the clouds that try and hide them from view. You wonder if Keigo knows their names.

“I saw you in my dreams” Finally, the angel answers, golden eyes fixed on his hands folded in prayer in his lap.

“You dreamed of me?” You didn’t know angels could dream.

“At first…. Now I think of you. I..... I love you on purpose, I love you intentionally.” The confession is weighty, said slowly and quietly. Golden eyes find your own and search for acceptance.

What do you do when an angel confesses their love? 

When you stay silent, Keigo disappears.

Sleep does not come easy that night.

——-

“Nothing you humans do ever matters. All that really matters is what you do.”

He’d appeared after a time, a few weeks where you stared at the chair in the corner and saw nothing. You weren’t sure if you were glad that he was back.

Keigo was critical of your actions, hovering behind you while you tended to the plants in your home, lounging on the counter while you cooked meals, sitting near you while you read and making you nervous at his unwavering company.

“So the meaning of life is to give life meaning?” You had answered his subtle jab, and Keigo had shown you his teeth in a smile. It looked much less like a smile, more like a gesture of a puppet, a mockery of a human with too many teeth. He didn’t say whether you were right or wrong.

Safety was no longer the prevalent feeling when Keigo was around.

The angel does not have the same restraint he used to exhibit. He touches you now, unashamed of his needy nature, how he craves your humanity, fascinated by the intricacies of your life, the thoughts that run through your head.

It makes you uneasy, his hands cold as ice when they find your own. But who are you to tell an angel they are wrong?

He never misses a night spent in your presence, even when you think he does. The angel waits till you’re asleep, creeps past your defenses and indulges in human comforts.

You always murmur in your sleep when he slips into your bed, when his cold, cold vessel presses against your warm body. Keigo wonders if he could steal some of your warmth, carry it with him.

“You look perfect even when you’re half asleep and not speaking proper English. I am so in love with you, it feels like I’m floating all the time” You don’t hear his words, but he says them anyways.

-----

His residence is overbearing.

You find yourself spending more and more time away from your home, spent at work, where he doesn’t appear. Nights are spent with friends, drinking in their homes, sharing stories about romantic endeavors.

A small part of you knows that Keigo must be nearby, being your guardian angel. But he never materializes around other people.

The angel grows desperate for your company, invades any spare moment you have, while you’re using the bathroom, showering, when you’re early for a meeting and alone in the conference room.

His demeanor is casual, relaxed, but you begin to see the outline of his wings, blood red plumage displayed across his back.

Strong emotions bring out their wings, you had learned. A dropped glass had wings flashing behind Keigo as the angel was caught off guard, and you’d begged for him to show you them.

He couldn’t make them visible at will, he had explained. They only showed if an angel was experiencing strong emotions, strong feelings.

Their appearance now made you afraid.

You tried to talk to Keigo one rare night you spent at home, work out your differences and soothe his feelings towards you, the jealousy and the anger that sank deep into his being.

“I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t have feelings for you the same way you feel for me” You had confessed.

Keigo’s eyes had blazed, yellow fire flickering in the iris.

“My body forgot what it felt like to be warmth. You’re the sun that I step into, the rays that fall upon my back and warm my wings, the heat that fills my heart and spills from my lips.”

He was passionate, gripping your arms with too-hot skin, and it burned.

“Before you go to sleep at night, you water your flowers, your plants. In the light of your window I can see your body wrapped in your nightgown, and you’re indistinguishable from the blossoms.”

The pain seared deep into your bones, and you felt anger, true anger at the celestial body in front of you. Never had you asked for his affection, for his protection.

“I have thought about my love for you, and the ways I could describe it are innumerable. You’re so human and it makes me want, and I don’t know what to do with the fire burning within me. I love you-“

You’re screaming at him then, and the sky turns dark the same moment you thrash out of his burning grip. Harsh words are said, things you should’ve expressed months ago, when the angel broke your boundaries into pieces and did what he pleased.

But the courage was here now, the bravery to defy an angel, to say that it was wrong, that you didn’t want them around anymore.

The sky crackled with lightening, and Keigo’s wings filled out, full of sharp, dangerous feathers. You had wondered about the color, why they were red instead of white, but as it began to rain, the red sloughed off, dripping to the ground in thick rivulets.

His blood-red wings were colored with the spatter of the sins he’d committed. But Keigo never talked about his sins, never about heaven.

Now he did, shouting at you with his thunderous voice, telling you of the lengths he had gone to in ensuring his existence in your life. How he’d begged at the feet of God to be allowed to show himself to you, to express the desire growing inside of his traitorousus body.

How he’d been shamed, shunned.

He’d shown himself to you anyway, took each reprimand in stride. When another angel had been assigned to you after the golden one’s confession, Keigo had broken, fought with teeth and claws.

The blood of his brothers tainted his wings.

So much had been sacrificed to stand by your side.

There had been no grand plan, Keigo had seen you and knew he wasn’t like the other angels. He was different, able to feel and touch and learn.

The two of you scream at each other, you spitting hateful things, how you wish he would leave you alone.

Keigo doesn’t care, you’ve made him feel and he’s not letting that go.

Lightening strikes a tree and it erupts into flames, and the tears running down your face are hidden by the pelting rain.

You hate him, he scares you.

It’s said out loud, and the angel stops in his tracks, looking at you with emotions you can’t begin to understand.

He leaves in a rush, his wings still stained red despite the cleansing water streaming along them.

——-

Keigo leaves you alone.

Your flowers start blooming again, even without the addictive presence of a holy angel.

The freckles dotting your skin fade, and you don’t mind, you don’t miss the marks that litter your thighs, your chest, the marks you’d never allowed to be made.

Life is okay again. You can breathe.

“It’s cold again and I miss you” His voice makes you drop the glass in your hands, and it shatters against the floor.

His wings materialize for a second, red as blood, dripping.

But then the angel is waving his hand, and the shards of glass on the ground are gone, the puddle of water, his wet wings.

Keigo has something to say to you, and he wants you to listen.

“I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you. But I didn’t. And, in truth, it was maybe better that I didn’t - I say that now, though it was something I regretted bitterly for a while.” He keeps stepping closer to you, until he’s in your space, heavenly body inches from your own. He feels like marble, a chill emanating from his golden skin.

“More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar wanting-to-talk state I’d stopped myself from blurting out the things on the edge of my tongue, the things I’d never said, even though it was something I knew well enough without me saying it out loud to you like this….. which is, of course, I love you”

“This won’t work, Keigo.” You explain, voice small. “We aren’t the same. I have someone out there meant for me, and it isn’t you.”

He frowns, takes your hand in his, interlaces your fingers. The angel presses a kiss to your knuckles, the same as he did the first time you met him.

“If soulmates do exist, they’re made, not found. You build a relationship with the person that makes your heart happy. I demand the labor of love so that I may make it. Craft so that I may make it art. So that I may make it mine.“

You don’t get any more say in the matter.

-----

His love is all consuming.

It grows and burns with each moment he spends with you, leeching off of your warmth.

People often don’t notice the little, gradual problems.

They don’t notice until the problem becomes unfixable.

[harborchild]

Harbor's AUs and OCs i guess

AUs:

Feral Children Colony- Six, after defeating the Lady, accidently crashes the Maw into the Forest/Wilderness' shores and the Children held captive break free an now theres jus a colony of feral children living in the wreckage of the Maw. this ones jus ment to be cute, RK lives cuz he was in the Hideaway when the Maw crashed, RK is the "leader" of the Colony because 1. nobody else wanted to and 2. he has experience from the Nomes. Six and Seven(RK) have an adorable protective sibling relationship, nobody knows if their actually related or not Tag: Feral Children Colony

Masked Six- this au exists because i really like the Rascal Mask and Six and Mono get to be mask buddies. the kids have their funky lil powers and are learning how to control and use them. Tag: Masked Six

Monster Friens- Mono an Six are both big signal tower Monsters but theyr still friens. RK is also there but hes still smol cuz he jus got snatched and he is very frighten. outside the Signal tower Shadow Six and Static/Shadow Mono ponder their funky new existance. Tag: Monster Friens

Pokemon- Six is a Mimikyu, Mono is a Phantump other than that its pretty much the same (if Mono's a phantump dose that mean Thin Man is a Trevnant?) The Maw is in a Giant Lapras Shell. Tag: LN Pokemon AU

Living Maw- where the Maw Itself is some kind of eldritch sea creature contained in a giant metal shell. occasionally peices of the hull fall off and expose the creature itself and also all the characters are creatures because i say so. it has a happy ending Tag: Living Maw

Littol Nightmares- i have no self control they are so smol and there are several of each of them. what is the term for a group of littl Sixes? a Poncho. and a Group o Monos is a Static. a Group of RKs is a Retreat (thanks to that anon for the lighthearted names nwn) i dunno theyr jus smol

Halloween AU- Magical and Spooky things happen around Halloween time. dolls, puppets and even static itself all comes to life!

Born of Blood- Six and Mono arrive at The Pale City, once a place of wonders and healing now fallen to ruin and Beasts, seeking a cure for Six's mysterious and painful sickness

Ghost Hunters- Mono can see (and Slightly Interact with) Ghosts, Six can pull her own Spirit out of her body to fight ghosts, RK is normal (no hes not thats a lie he has prophetic dreams) and RCG might know ghost-related magic, together they hunt ghosts!

Space Station AU- Six is a malfuctioing Repair Bot, Mono is a Secondary AI, both need to flee the stations that they are from, why not flee as a team? and why not collect more stray friends along the way?

OCs:

Crackle: (Any pronouns) Electric powred child who is the caretaker of The Harbor and child of The Generator

Matchstick: (She/It) Fire-Fond little girl, lives on the Maw, hair is naturally blond but is colored black with coal, Sibling to Petricor

Petricor: (He/Him) cannot say or spell his own name, very smol so so smol, baby, makes up stories about the places they explore, forgets they were makeing it up and gets upset about it, has survived purely off of stupildy dumb luck

The Inventor: (He/They/It) many armed very smart centipede man whos head is on backwards

Guise: (They/Them) Awful Creature. Rotten, empty little beast. a false child. Their own soul (or at least most of it) was stolen from them, leaving them acheingly empty and forceing them to take other's souls

Leech Prince: (It/They) kid who lives in the deepest darkest depths of the Maw, leeches dont attack them so they are the leech monach, can seemingly command the leeches

Scrunchy: (She/Her) lil nome. she cannot cook but nothing stops her from trying

The GateWalker: (Any Pronouns, They/Them prefrence) a strange little entity who cant remember who they were before they became the Gatewalker

Vernon: (It/They) cute little gremlin who dosent talk, but they do make critter noises! they like fruit and think Twig is cute!

Bagel: (He/They) Vernon's big bro! hes protective of Vernon and made a promise to protect them no matter what. He has heat powers and is resistant to high tempuratures! and wears a dragon-like mask!

Radio Kid: (He/It) Kid whos possessed by a Raido Frequency Entity whos got some grudges against The Signal

Shade and Fuz: (They/Them) a Shadow Kid and a Glitching Remain who are best buddies and also fused at the hand because theyr both ghostly and they held hands so much

H: (They/Them) Creature made by The Tower(hence the tv antennas and lack of facial features), lured away from the Pale City by The Maw, now serves the accursed ship, But is Friendly! I promise!

Grin: (It/Its) Gremlin born after the world fell appart, which resulted in their face being...strange. wears masks to hide their face. also got kicked out of home by its parent to "show it how the world is"

Reven: (They/He/It) Bird child, has wings, unknown if they can fly, lives in a graveyard and frequents an abbandoned hot topic with their flock or twisted ravens, throw rocks at people, and get chased. alot

Mosquito Kid: (it/he/she) Vampire, responds to any name directed at her, silent type, kills with little to no warning, constantly deadpan

Vector: (she/her) LOUD angery wasp child, has a poisoned stinger-dagger, you'll hear her coming, loud and screams and lots of threats of killing, often gets kills stolen from her by MK because shes so loud, also she has wasp wings

This List will prolly be updated. unless i can have some self control. which i dont. self control? whats that? a salad dressing?

[ballad-in-goblets]

inazuma archon quest (rewrite ? critique ?)

OKay so i’m gonna preface this with i don’t hate the inazuma archon quests ! i quite enjoyed the storyline and everything about it, there are just things that ,,, i'm not so satisfied with. and so i'm gonna go over those here and rewrite it or like. idk offer critique lol something like that !

real quick, @like-that-one-weird-dog-thing here if u want this here's that ramble i was talking about lol (yeah i made a genshin tumblr kSDKGHDFFGD)

i feel like this is a given but;

spoilers for all acts of the inazuma archon quest under the cut

with that out of the way, onto the rewrite ! (quick side note: it kinda turns more into a creative writing piece more than a critique or full rewrite near the end which is not what i meant to do but it still gets my point across so !! it works)

so, like i said, i quite enjoyed the archon quest. the first two acts (autumn winds, scarlet leaves & the immovable god and the eternal euthymia) are perfect, i don't think i'd change anything in those two acts at all. the third act (stillness, the sublimation of shadow) is also wonderful, and i honestly think that's my favourite out of the archon quest acts so far ! it's mainly when act 3, omnipresence over mortals, hits that i think it fell a bit short

things kinda feel... a bit rushed when it comes to this quest ? compared to the slow, steady pace of the prologue and act 1, then the speeding up of act 2, it honestly seems too fast paced and yet too slow at the same time. some parts of act 3 were really fast, like the encounter with scaramouche and the duel with la signora, and then some were... really slow. like the entire bit with the reistance.

on top of that, a lot of characters really fell short for me. it felt like teppei, an unplayable npc, was way more important than gorou, sangonomiya kokomi, kujou sara, basically everyone except for yae miko and raiden shogun. which, don't get me wrong, teppei was important, but i feel like these other characters had a big introduction only to just... kinda exist with no real reason.

gorou and sangonomiya kokomi were played up as big characters due to their status in the resistance - kujou sara was played up as the raiden shogun's right hand woman, and they were advertised as the duo of inazuma - hell, it even felt like kamisato ayaka was going to play a larger role in the final act of the story. and then none of them really did.

gorou only shows up to inform us about the soldiers aging quickly (and a bit near the end, but kaedehara kazuha had more of a role there, with actually leaping towards the shogun). sangonomiya seems important, but her only real action is making us a force captain and then telling us where the delusion factory could be. kujou sara only showed up to talk to the head of the kujou clan then get fucking knocked out by la signora in front of the raiden shogun, who did nothing about a snezhnayan diplomat knocking out her LEAD GENERAL ! kamisato ayaka only appeared for a few moments.

so, now that i've explained some of why i felt the final act fell short, i'm going to offer up how i would've changed things.

first, gorou and sangonomiya should play a bigger role in the story. like, they're the leads of the resistance, and they get less screentime than unplayable npcs... that's kinda weird. kujou sara should also play a bigger role. kamisato ayaka, i think would be fine with not appearing, due to how much of a part she played in the first acts, but gorou, sangonomiya kokomi, and kujou sara should be a lot more present, just in general.

in the 2.1 trailer, there were lines of "peace talk", correct ? i feel like that should've been in the story. perhaps after the traveler meets with sangonomiya on watatsumi island, they hear word of kujou sara wishing to meet. they meet up with her, which is where the peace talk comes into play. the two sides start trying to come up with a compromise. while this is happening, gorou is keeping an eye on things back on watatsumi island... where things start getting strange.

the soldiers start showing signs of accelerated aging. it's concerning, and as far as they're aware, unstoppable. due to this, sangonomiya cuts the compromising short to return to her people and try to help them. perhaps kujou sara could make a jab at this, something like "how do you ever plan to defeat the shogun's army if you can't even keep your own soldiers alive outside of a fight?" which could lead to sangonomiya and the traveler believing that kujou knows something about what's going on (even though she doesn't).

upon getting back, the traveler recognises the delusions. honestly ? i really liked the delusion subplot. i really like the idea of the fatui trying to tear inazuma apart, kind of like they did mondstadt and liyue, so they could get their hands on baal's gnosis. perhaps they had it so that scaramouche was in charge of scattering the resistance forces, while la signora was working behind the scenes with the kanjou commission and the tenryou commission to manipulate the raiden shogun.

i love the part where teppei dies, simply due to how emotional it was. i genuinely cried at that part, lol... but i really enjoyed it. i would say, keep that in. after discovering the delusions, things stay relatively the same. the traveler goes to teppei and watches him die, and then goes to the factory to get revenge, where they meet scaramouche. yae miko still saves them, however...

instead of remaining at the shrine to talk to yae the entire time, i think the traveler would want to go back to the resistance. sure, yae could very much help them defeat the raiden shogun, but the traveler is working with the resistance, who, from what we've seen, can be quite strong... at times. however, as they're about to leave, yae leaves the traveler with these parting words: "be careful of who you trust, child. not everyone who seems like a friend is one"

why ? well, i love the idea of the resistance not entirely being in the right, either. y'know that giant serpent that baal struck down ? yeah, that was watatsumi's protector deity. simply put: watatsumi island doesn't really like the raiden shogun, and i doubt sangonomiya feels much differently. i would love if one of the subplots was about how the resistance wasn't firstly formed to fight the vision hunt decree, but just the shogun in general, and slowly morphed to fighting the vision hunt decree.

after returning to the resistance, the traveler tells sangonomiya what they found. after speaking for awhile, they figure out that the fatui is most likely not just making things miserable on the front of the resistance (via the delusions). how do they figure this out ? the traveler, of course. while wondering why the fatui are in inazuma, the traveler remembers how the harbingers are trying to collect all the gnosis. they make this known to sangonomiya, who guesses that the fatui could be trying to make inazuma a mess so they can get the shogun's gnosis. at this point, the traveler heads back to the grand narukami shrine to speak to yae miko, hoping she'll know more about this, with sangonomiya at their side.

upon arrival, yae miko is speaking to kujou sara. kujou and sangonomiya are immediately.. well, simply put, not happy to be in each other's presence. yae miko calms them down, and tells them all what she was telling kujou. sangonomiya and the traveler were right: the fatui were behind the vision hunt decree. sangonomiya tells kujou what had happened in the resistance, and the traveler tells her what happened in the other nations, with the fatui (specifically la signora) hunting the gnosis. kujou mentions seeing a harbinger, a tall woman with blonde hair, and the traveler connects the dots. it's la signora, and she's in inazuma. kujou still isn't convinced, so the traveler does need to get kamisato ayaka and sayu's help to get the documents.

while waiting for the documents to arrive, the traveler speaks more with sangonomiya, where they learn more about the past of watatsumi island and the serpent deity. perhaps, trusting the traveler, sangonomiya reveals to them why she started the resistance in the first place: to get revenge on the shogun for killing their deity. of course, as time went on, she is now fighting against the vision hunt decree and simply wants to see inazuma united again, though it shakes the travelers trust in the resistance. after all... teppei, their good friend, died for the reistiance, and here sangonomiya is telling them that she started it simply to get revenge on baal for a centuries old fight that was ended... well, centuries ago.

after getting the documents, the traveler meets with kujou sara at the grand narukami shrine. sangonomiya was planning to come, but gorou needed her help tending to more soldiers at the resistance, as some refused to hand over their delusions. things stay relatively the same from here. kujou confronts takayuki, and she goes to speak to the shogun about this. while that's going on, yae miko is speaking to the traveler, giving them a brief rundown on what is going on with the raiden shogun - the one that is actually given in the quest, where we learn more about her puppet and her name being ei and whatnot. afterwards, the traveler goes to face the raiden shogun. they find la signora and kujou sara in a standoff, with the raiden shogun taking kujou's side (they are a duo, after all). la signora moves to attack kujou, but...

before she can land a strike, our traveler runs in, stopping her blow. all three parties present are startled - a wanted criminal in inazuma just stopped inazuma's head general from being attacked. it's not something you see every day. after speaking a bit more, the traveler challenges la signora to a duel before the throne, remembering this as an option due to kaedehara kazuha telling them about his friend. the traveler wins, and as such, la signora is executed... or is she ? well, to the traveler it seems like she is, but some subtle hints clue us in to the fact that something seems off. maybe la signora isn't dead, after all.

however, before la signora is executed, kujou sara steps in. she can tell that the traveler needs to ask signora something, and as they have been helping her, she asks the raiden if they can ask their one question before she executes signora. raiden agrees. and so, the traveler asks... "why?"

"why what?" signora laughs, though it's a pained laugh. "i'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific."

"you didn't just take venti's gnosis."

"not like you did zhongli's."

"you were brutal. you knew him."

"what did he ever do to you?"

and then... a cutscene. a story cutscene, to be exact. telling us about la signora's backstory as the crimson witch of flames (after all, this is fully confirmed during the fight). it shows her meeting her lover, and her lover perishing in the war, and her turning into the crimson witch. it shows her blaming venti for her lover's death, and then being found by the fatui. given her cryo delusion so she could appear as a human in a world of humans, and vowing to work side by side with the tsaritsa... as long as she can get revenge on the god that caused her lover to die.

after that, the raiden shogun executes signora. the traveler leaves, and we get that terrifying cutscene of them walking (which, let me tell you, scared the hell out of me. it was wonderfully made, please keep that in). we see the resistance coming up, having decided now was the time to take back inazuma... and then, the raiden shogun appears. not fully attacking the traveler, but she appears, walking on the steps out of a portal, like she did when facing the traveler the first time. kaedehara kazuha, in a moment of anger, lunges forward, activating his friend's vision as he clashes his blade with the shogun. she knocks him back, raising her blade to end him and take his vision when the traveler jumps in again.

and this time, she takes them back to the plane of euthymia.

the fight happens again, and once more, the traveler is not strong enough to win. however, the voice of yae miko rings in their ears: "your ambition alone is not enough to stop ei". words that were said to them right as they left to go find kujou sara.

and in that moment, the visions reach out to them. the stolen ambitions of all these people, gifting their ambition to the traveler. and, in the end of that all, we see the face of teppei. we see his hope, his determination to help the resistance. except, it's not just an illusion, it's a spirit. "help the resistance for me, okay, my friend?"

and the traveler gets the strength. they fight back against the raiden shogun, and they defeat her. they win. they are thrown out of the plane of euthymia, and the raiden shogun is kneeling over, weak. she lost the fight. she lost the fight. she looks up at the traveler, her eyes glowing a bright purple as she takes them in.

"their ambitions are stored within you."

"you really are an exception."

she stands up, and the traveler readies their blade. is she going to attack them again? instead, her blade simply... vanishes in her hands. in a brilliant, electrifying light, what was once there is no longer there. she stands before the traveler, empty handed. just looking at them. the traveler lowers their weapons.

"you are no longer wanted in inazuma. even i can't beat you."

"that's not what i want."

"oh? then what is it?"

"end the vision hunt decree. now."

and the raiden shogun laughs. "you think you get to make that choice?"

"almighty shogun." kujou sara is there, too. had she always been there? the traveler isn't sure. "the vision hunt decree.. it's harming inazuma."

"not just vision bearers," gorou adds. "but the entirety of the inazuman people."

"vision bearers and non vision bearers alike." even sangonomiya kokomi is there. "we have been fighting to end this for two years. people have died on all ends. many lives have been lost. don't you think it's time to end this?"

"after all, it was the fatui's doing." and then, there's yae. and the shogun seems shocked, then angry, then hurt, then... sad. then happy.

"yae. my old friend..."

the shogun takes in the people all around her. she takes in friends and enemies, foes and allies, vision bearers and regular people... and yet, despite their differences, they're all inazuman. they're all her people. they looked to her for guidance, and it failed.

"very well."

the decree is over. visions are returned to the few still able to receive them. the raiden shogun, for the first time in what feels like an eternity, steps out of the plane of euthymia. for the first time in years, the shogun is not who walks the streets, no; it is ei who walks the streets alongside her people. she goes to the small villages, along with her good friends yae miko and kujou sara, and she sees the damage she caused on her people. sangonomiya kokomi and gorou show her the resistance troops, who, at first, almost try to attack, before ei steps down and bows to them, asking for their forgiveness. she sees the damage her idea of eternity inflicted upon inazuma, and she makes it her goal to do better.

after all. she was aware it was the fatui's doing. she knew what the fatui were doing. she knew that two of her three commissions were working behind her back. and she did nothing about it, as it fit well with her goals at the time. she turned her back on her people in a false pursuit of eternity that would only end in loss. she recognises that. she knows what she did was wrong, and she takes the steps towards making things right. she reopens inazuma's borders, and takes down the statue of the omnipresent god.

alongside yae miko, she offers advice to the traveler on where their sibling might be. she suggests they go to sumeru next; the city of scholars might know something. when asked about what they were told by yae, the ei tells the story herself. the story of two twins; baal and beelzebul, makoto and ei. how one lost the other, and took over her identity. much like venti and the unnamed bard.

in the final cutscene, we see how inazuma starts to heal. sangonomiya prays at the watatsumi island shrine, for all the souls lost in the resistance. gorou and kujou sara start working together to mend the relationships between the reistance and the shogun's army. yoimiya, thoma, and kamisato ayaka enjoy a game of hot pot together, with sayu sleeping nearby. kaedehara kazuha leaves his friend's vision at his grave, and he takes his friend's cat with him. behind him, beidou awaits for her friend to join her, and the two walk off together. yae miko looks up at the sacred sakura, it's petals blowing in the wind. we see the traveler walk up to her to thank her for her help, and she simply smiles at them. sakura petals cover the screen... and then we see ei.

we see her walking alone. it's sunset, just about to go dark, but not just yet. it's lightly raining... and we see her kneel down at what seems to be a shrine. she leaves an offering before she stands up and moves away. we see the names engraved on the shrine - makoto. chiyo. sasayuri. kitsune saiguu. her sister, and her old friends. eternally preserved in a shrine created by the one who still cares for them.

and end scene.

[ill-rip-myself-apart]

FREAK - FRANK MORRISON X READER

*female reader

*Race Neutral

*TW ; small descriptions of gore, yandereish frank, blood, mentions of murder, mentions of anxiety and severe fear. Minors DNI

The days were winding down quickly, almost taunting you of what's to come. The cold month of February usually brought on the most snow in your little town. The population nothing more than 6000 people, although as the years went on it seemed like the number grew small and smaller. Part of you wondered if your whole town would cease to exist at one point. As if some entity would bring it down.

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, moving away from the mirror in the bathroom you shared with your uncle. It's design was rather drab and plain, just how Charlie liked it although it'd be weird if it was any other color at this point. You have grown custom to the old scenery within your home. It was comforting.

You grabbed your dirty clothes off the floor, chucking them into wicker basket by the sink, making your way towards the door you were greeted with your uncles face. His bushy brows were raised.

"You'd just take a shower?"

"Yeah I did, don't worry I turned on the fan."

"Good, I don't need the room to be all steamy while I'm taking a shit."

You backed out of the bathroom with a snort, your uncle was always frank. No filter on that mouth of his but it was part of the charm. With a sigh you started heading towards the kitchen. It was just 10 minutes past 9 and the clouds were already in the sky, blocking any and all sunlight that dared shined today. It was never any match for the heavy clouds of rain or it's friends that consist of snow and fog. Chilly temperatures that seeped through your skin and past your bones, hitting you where it hurt most.

You washed your hands at the sink, looking out the window where it showed nothing the endless trees and hills of snow. These trees stretched out for miles, escalating till they reached the top of Ormond. The largest mountain in Canada. Surrounded by a backwater town no one ever heard of.

Every branch was weighed down by the white sparkling powder, it looked beautiful but beyond the shadows something sinister lurked. Creeping by in the dawn of wake, at least that's what the rumor was.

"Tomorrows the 14th, you think your admirer is gonna come again?"

Charlie's tone was nothing short of being playful but to you? The question felt like a itch that couldn't be scratched.

You dreaded thinking about this, cause you asked yourself the same question. Would they come again? Whoever they were and why?

About two years ago, on your birthday you woke up to a rather unsettling sight. It was a cold December morning (just for the sake of the story, pretend your birthday is in December) you looked outside your window from the second story of your house and what you saw was shocking. In the snow was a red heart. Maybe you think it's for someone else but it couldn't be when your name was right underneath it.

Only two questions ran through your head, one, how did this person know your name? And two, what was the red liquid? Was it paint? Food dye? Blood?

You feared the answer to either question but not as much when it happened again on Valentines Day, after that it happened again on your next birthday, same with valentines day. Just your recent birthday is when it seemed to stop, but you couldn't be so sure. It bugged you to no end that this person knew your name, your birthday and where you lived. Everyday felt like a checklist, lock the doors, scout the front yard, look behind your back... This anxiety of being watched was eating you alive and felt like everyone was mocking you. Your uncle somewhat seriously but mainly thought it was just teenage doings. Your friends saw it as a romantic gesture, instead of a threat or personal attack, and the police? They thought you were insane. It was frustrating, no one took you seriously and you starting to doubt everything yourself at this point. Trauma does that to you.

"y/n? You okay kid? You're kinda out of it."

Your eyes darted to your uncles, he stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen and the living room. It felt cold and dark, you started tugging on your shirt sleeves. The black fabric brought a certain comfort to your hands. Nodding, you turned to look at him.

"Yeah, no I'm okay. Still waking up a little."

Your voice waivers, he can tell your on edge. You and Charlie had a close bond, so he picked up on your moods rather quickly. His forehead creased, a sympathetic look crossed his features.

"Your still thinking about it, huh?"

You nodded, arms folding over your chest. That feeling of being watched crept back up, you felt exposed.

"Well, maybe it's a kid from your school? I wouldn't assume the worst y/n. That's a bad way of thinking."

He could be right, it'd make the most sense. Maybe you were negative, maybe it was the anxiety you had since you were little, maybe it was the excitement, nothing ever really happens here in Ormond. Deep down this could be just you wanting something more in life. You tried to calming yourself down, a deep sigh rustling out of you.

"Yeah, maybe you're right. I don't know, it just feels weird."

You decided maybe some food will settle your stomach, you went to the cabinet and pulled out some bagels. Ready to start your Saturday the best you could.



The clock had just striked 8 o'clock, by now it was dark out and your uncle wouldn't be home for an another hour so you were left to your own devices. The snow was falling rapidly on the ground, an inch already covering your yard. It looked feathery and light. The cold air perfectly whispy as the wind roared on, leaving the pine trees to shake in their wake. They looked like a puppet show, each tree black as silhouettes, covered by the dark night. It was a new moon tonight, something you could of enjoyed if your fear hadn't been eating you alive.

You really did try to take your mind off of  things but it wasn't easy. Your mind wasn't one to rest, you overthink a lot and this was something that couldn't possibly pass by you or your mind.

Currently you were curled up on the couch, huddled into a ball with a warm blanket, the t.v. was playing in the background but it felt like it was static to you. All you could do was sit and stare, checking windows and the front door every other hour. The darker the night got, the more your anxiety burned. Your stomach felt like a hollow hole, your chest was heavy. Each beat of your heart felt like the seconds ticking by, almost as if it was racing against the clock. All you wanted was this night to be over.

Ten minutes passed and that's when things started happening, you looked to the left of you where one of the large windows sat. Next to an old bookcase that was adorned with nicknacks and thick books, all of which you read through. Your E/C eyes darted to the window and nearly fell out of your seat. You could of swore you saw a figure. Tall and broad shoulders, a gray hood, covered with a Navy blue jacket.

You could practically feel the bile climbing up your throat. It burned at your esophagus, fear had rattled your heart, leaving it to drum against your ribcage. The stuttering of your breath could of been mistaken for how cold you were, but it was fear.

Rushing to the window you plastered your hands against the glass, the cold caused your warm hands to tingle yet you felt like you were on fire. Your skin was hot and flushed, you wanted to rip off your hoodie.

Frantic orbs scanned the perimeter, seeing nothing but the long lines of trees and and darkness. We're you dreaming? Did your anxiety get that bad to the point you were seeing things? Your legs felt jittery, weak almost. Like they buckle at any moment.

Footprints, you could see footprints that tracked in the snow. Leading to the backyard. Quick to connect the dots, the back was a view you could see from your bedroom. Not that it was much different, the area was heavily wooded but that wasn't the only standing factor. The backyard was usually the place your so called "admirer" left their messages. They were here, you had caught them in the act!

Well, not really. Granted you were still in the house, sitting on the floor as your skin ignited with heat. You ripped off the heavy garment before tossing it to the side, left in a black T-shirt with a skirt and stockings, the cold wooden floor was definitely soothing but it didn't help ease any of your fear nor lessen the feeling of nausea twisting in your stomach.

They were here, you knew that much. You weren't crazy, or imagining things. The fear was real, which made it all the more worse.

With a quick dash, you found yourself in the kitchen raiding one of the drawers. Pulling out a rather sharp kitchen knife. You spotted yourself in its reflection. Wide, shakey eyes darted in every possible direction, seeing if they caught up with you in the home. Did they know you were here? Or did they think you were asleep? So many different possibilities ran through your head. It felt like a rush, your brain made everything feel woozy. The bile was practically in your mouth, your heart was burning.

Above every option you thought about, the one that seemed to make the most sense was to go outside. A scratch that you've been dying to itch for so long. Finally you could know who this person might be, with baited breath you tucked your knife into your side, buried in your skirt before grabbing some slip ons, facing the dark truth. Once and for all.

The cold air was like a shockwave. Instantly your skin was covered in goosebumps. A chill sinking into your flesh, hitting you where it hurts the most. But you continued on, across the street was your neighbors house. All the lights were off which meant they had been asleep, pale lights from the street lamps flickered on and off. A few moths circled around each pole. The snow had stopped completely and you felt alone. It was desolate on your street and your not sure how to feel about it.

You found yourself following the trail of Muddy footsteps, whoever this person may be, they definitely weren't clean. The tracks in the snow were large, gritty. They must be wearing boots. That definitely didn't help the sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You stopped, there was it was. The red heart in clean white snow. It was splattered almost perfectly. Crimson red deep in icy thickness. The letter "I" Was before the heart and after it was the letter "U". I love you. Underneath it all? There layed your name ever so delicately, as if it was written with care. You swallowed the vomit in your mouth. You felt raw.

There was no mistaking what the color could possibly be. Too thick to be paint and too dark to be food dye. That was blood, the crimson color always ran deep, all of this felt surreal. You had to be dreaming, this wasn't real. You were imagining it all, why would anyone do this? The fear was getting to you, distorting all of your vision. Black dots floated around your vision as your breath slowed. We're you dying? Or are you gonna pass out? You couldn't tell. All you could feel was a blanket of nerves draping over you, collapsing into the snow, your whole body felt light. It was so warm yet so cold, and soft. God was the snow always this soft?

Wait, no you shouldn't fall asleep here. What's that saying? Don't fall asleep in the snow unless you never plan to wake up? But how could anyone resist? You felt ethereal. Like a bunch of morphine had been injected in your system and it was taking it's course.

Before your eyelids were too heavy, all you saw was your vision spinning slowly. The dark sky was perfect in your view, an ocean of stars reflecting with the crystal snow. Every bit of fear had left your body but deep in your psyche you were still scared. The fear was hidden away from the heavy feeling in your body. You were too tired to do anything.

A masked man had came into your view, peering down at you with heavy breathing. The mask had been a simple design, two eyes with a smile. It looked dirty and worn, multiple scratches had craved deep in its plastic interior. A swipe of blood across that mouth. What stood out the most was a tattoo along this persons neck, you feel like you've seen it somewhere. Maybe it was a dream? But before you could figure it out, your eyelids gave out. Only left with hearing the last thing your heard before you slipped into the abyss of darkness was heavy breathing and the sigh of your name.

Authors note ;

So I finally posted something 👉🏻👈🏻🥺, the ending is rather vague so you can imagine how the scenario might of ended, as always if you wish this to be written in either a different gender reader (male, female, non-binary, demis, I mean any and all) or maybe race specific just shoot me a pm! I hope you like it lol, I spent like three days on this and tumblrs formatting is kinda weird compared to wattpad so forgive me if I did this wrong lol.

.

[dashuisofanubis]

Hello, your headcanons is really cool! Could I ask for some RFS headcanons?

Aw thank you 💕 and of course!!

Robert built Anubis House and Estate (the school, summer house, gatehouse and so on) where it is because of the tunnels carved out under the ground. They were originally supposed to be the first levels of a mine, but the project lost its funding and shut down.

He didn't initially intend for the tunnels to be turned into a death trap, but y'know had some time on his hands and Victor Sr. was starting to get a bit too interested in his work and he wanted to make sure the mask and the tears of gold never fell into his hands. However, he fully intended to put the real mask in the tunnels, it was Louisa who convinced him otherwise.

He and Louisa would host extravagant dinner parties with people of note (Gustav Ziestack's grandfather attended quite a few), regaling them with his tales of Egypt. Over time the parties became more exclusive, and became a way for Robert and his closest friends (his expedition party) to discuss the mysteries they had uncovered, including the Elixir of life. They formed the initial secret society. Victor Sr. was initially invited, but kicked out soon after, so he spent his time skulking outside, trying to hear any potential information.

He began to grow more paranoid towards the end, particularly after the curse, and kicked everyone out of the group except for Louisa, but he withdrew from her too towards the end. Before that, they designed and built the hidden areas of the house and grounds together.

He knew Sarah and Rufus were the Chosen One and Osirian, but he never told them. When he found out, he was surprised because of all the people to be Amneris' descendant it would be his daughter (he always wondered if this is why he was drawn to Egypt). He was planning to tell her when he deemed her old enough, but he never reached that point, so she mostly had to figure it out alone (he did talk about it extensively in his journals, and tell her stories about a girl with magic powers).

As for Rufus, he'd been friends with his parents for a long time, and Sarah went to stay with them sometimes while he and Louisa were away (before he made her stay with Victor Sr. to keep an eye on him while Robert couldn't), so when he discovered the chosen one had a protector of a similar age, he assumed it was either him or Victor. Again, he said nothing, beyond a "look after Sarah" when he saw him for the final time.

He loved Sarah with almost all of his heart (but his work came first). He would tell her stories every night before she went to sleep, and Louisa would often join in, and the two would make shadow puppets on the wall to enhance their tale. These stories were usually standard children's tales, or Robert would speak of his latest expedition (though this usually had the opposite effect as Sarah would constantly want to know more). However, as time went on the stories became more and more focused on Egyptian mythology and all the secrets of the house. He thought if he told it to Sarah in a story she'd be more likely to remember it.

Some nights the three of them would sing together, and those nights were the ones Sarah got the best sleep she can remember.

(Nights were very lonely afterwards)

He was a notorious tomb robber who only began to care about the damage he'd caused when he realised his actions would have consequences for him. (though instead of rectifying them he hid the artefacts further away)

Though he didn't steal the artefacts that led to his curse, he did set an example and provide the means to allow his expedition party to do what they did

He thought by taking the curse for himself, he could absolve himself of his guilt but instead he just fell further into his paranoia

Like his daughter, his gravestone belongs to a person who never existed.