#also him being an older ghoul I like him being less human in appearance

[ghcstcd]

I want to hear people's Omega headcanons, be them standalone, with Terzo, or any other character in the Ghost-universe.

I'll go first: big void boy is essentially a big cat. If he's comfortable enough, he will flop all his weight onto someone and purr like an truck engine.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Elven 'Physiology' and Quirks

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index[tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Physiology and quirks | Names | Clans and Houses | Pan-Cultural things | Elven 'Subraces' | Philosophy and Religion | Half-elves | [WIP]

In my continued desire to procrastinate on reading two novels and cross-referencing about three sourcebooks for drow culture, I met myself in the middle and did this instead.

Also I really need to rehaul some of the lore compilations...

Unlike elves of other worlds, the Tel'Quessir – except drow – are as tall as humans, but finer boned and typically narrower in build – except for aquatic elves. An elf weighs less than a human of the same build and height, which appears to be something to do with their bone density, as elven bones (especially winged elves’) are light (though ‘surprisingly sturdy’). Their fingertips taper, and their hands and fingers are longer than a humans… although I still think saying they’re 50% longer (palm and fingers) is a bit much.

The shape of their facial features, regardless of ‘subrace,’ are as varied as humans. The only rules of thumb are about their eyes and ears:

Elven ears are always pointy – but can vary greatly in shape and length otherwise. They’re somewhat prehensile; elven children can move their ears, but generally this ability is lost with maturation. Maintaining it seems to be a genetic quirk. Whether the shape or whatever, elves have sharp hearing.

Elven eyes are larger in proportion to their face and spaced a little further apart than human eyes, slightly slanted in a manner that gives them a wider field of vision and more acute vision in general.

If you're using recent editions then elves can see in very low light conditions (able to see perfectly clearly by starlight alone). Drow can see in perfect darkness.

If you want to go by older editions you're looking at infravision: elves, like other beings that can 'see' in the darkness, were able to change their sight to the infrared spectrum, perceiving heat signatures. Drow vision was further ranged and more acute than surface elves'.

Elves aren't diurnal, and have no particular circadian rhythm, they just get four hours in whenever and communities are have a consistent level of full activity all day and night.

Drow are noted to have human-level olfactory senses compared to their cousins, implying that the elven sense of smell and taste is stronger too. Which might explain why older elves complain about the youth experimenting with non-elven cuisine and all the ‘over-spiced animal flesh and other abominable foods.’

While this doesn't always come up in the rules, elves are immune to the paralytic effects of ghouls, due to an incident involving either Corellon Larethian or Lolth, and the ghoul deity Doresain, who in the version of his backstory given for the Realms was a green elf back in -11,200 DR whose recent ancestors were of the nation of Eiellûr and betrayed their people to the dark elven empire of Ilythiir. A rather brutal bastard and slaver who eventually killed and ate the raw flesh of the ruling family of the last surviving green elven nation of Southern Faerûn as part of a pact with the demon lord of the undead, Orcus for eternal life. When Doresain later fell in combat during one of the many skirmishes of the Crown Wars, Orcus brought him back as a unique undead horror and King of the Ghouls and Orcus’ proxy on Toril (so that Orcus could focus on important matters in the Abyss). Doresain eventually became trapped in the Abyss, trapped in service to Yeenoghu when Orcus ignored his pleas to save him (despite his ‘domain’ Orcus despises the undead). Most Torilian sages claim that Lolth intervened and freed him, bringing Doresain back to Toril in exchange for imbuing the drow with immunity to his children and swearing that ghouls would never attack them, which indirectly affected all elves (except for the ‘not attacking’). Others claim he prayed to the gods of his living years, the Seldarine, and they took pity on him in exchange for the same service.

The Seldarine are always depicted as genderfluid or agender – if depicted in art in humanoid form they are shown with two bodies as afab and amab, or possessing both characteristics in a single form. Occasionally a mortal elf is also born who takes after the gods; marked by their androgyny (by elven standards) and the ability to alter their sex characteristics at will, these elves are considered blessed by Corellon and closer to the gods by many elven cultures. They haven’t been given an official word, but the elven word for ‘Blessings of Corellon’ on Toril is ‘Cormiira.’ According to the most popular take on the elven creation myth, the People are born of Corellon’s blood (and possibly Sehanine’s tears as she wept at seeing him gravely wounded), which many elves attribute this as evidence for. The Tel’Quessir do have several other creation myths however.

Elves have an innate connection to the Weave, which is why they're 'the wizard race' and something to do with their connection to the world. Elves are more likely to have the innate ability required to become arcane spellcasters, and some say the Weave is what gives them their lifespans.

Going into purely non-published realmslore from word of god:

The elven gestation period takes two years (this I’m pretty sure is in published DnD somewhere?) Elves tend to avoid being pregnant unless they actively want to and have generally mastered the art of not being pregnant, the threat of being side-lined by shorter lived peoples who have more children and faster be buggered.

The elven diet primarily consists of raw plant matter and fish. The elven digestive system can handle vegetation that others’ cant. They can eat meat, and many do – especially those who grow up around humans, who have developed a tolerance that makes it easier for them to digest – but it’s not a ‘natural’ part of their diet nor does it play a large role. Apparently drinking small quantities animal blood is a reasonably common enough way to consume land animals (I’m not clear on whether this is in the form of soups or beverages).

Elves are severely allergic to cannabis and can't use it, though they have found unspecified alternatives.

While getting it is unpleasant, they are only inconvenienced by bubonic plague and its not considered a dangerous disease.

Elves also draw energy from the sunlight, which bolsters their metabolism, allowing them to eat less and possibly playing a part in their ability to digest previously mentioned plant matter. Access to fresh water (not just drinking it) also plays a part in their overall health. Somehow. Dark elves in the Underdark have adapted over the centuries (or maybe from the High Magic ritual that binds them to it) to draw from the faerzress radiation.

Elven vocal chords can reach pitches higher than humans can reach, and there's a gene that can allow the elf to produce two notes at the same time, which with training allows them to sort-of say two things at once (a 'ghost' vocalisation beneath the spoken words). This is described as 'genetic but not racial' so I assume it can pass to half-elves and any non-elven descendants through them.

---

Reverie/'Eedqa':

Elves do not sleep, unless something has gone wrong (injury, illness, exhaustion). They also can’t be forced to sleep, and are immune to magic that would do so (but not to being whacked over the back of the head and knocked out with something heavy).

- Elves enter a state called the Reverie (or just reverie) in Common, and ‘eedqa’ in Elven. The elf finds a quiet place to relax, gradually tuning out the world and slipping into a trance-like state where they re-experience their lived memories, occasionally interspersed with memories from past lives and visions from the gods – which will be vague and puzzling and probably require a priest to decode, the Lady of Mysteries did not earn that nickname for nothing. - They are somewhat aware of their surroundings in reverie, but pulling themselves back out of their mind is disorienting and waking early is extremely disorienting, much like waking any sleeping individual. Physically, they are immobile, not necessarily lying in a normal sleeping position (sitting or reclining is the norm), their breathing slows into a torpor and their eyes remain open and unfocused, which has occasionally caused panic in acquaintances who’ve never witnessed reverie before and think the elf has died (elves in turn are known to find the 'heaviness' of sleep disturbing to behold).

The only elves who deliberately sleep are priests of Sehanine Moonbow, who occasionally enter the deeper state of unconsciousness to communicate with their goddess, and the majority of drow (whose struggles to achieve reverie have been credited to the Underdark 'fragmenting' their natural instincts, and their inability to relax enough to enter the state).

Elves experience their first reverie in the womb, as pregnancy forges a temporary Rapport between parent and developing foetus where the offspring experiences the parent’s life and learns of their family and culture through them (how much the child can learn varies by parent; quality of education not guaranteed). Young children, lacking experiences of their own, are more likely to experience memories of previous lives unless they share in the reveries of other elves. The occurrence of the first ‘current life’ reverie is a life milestone and typically marks the end of childhood.

It’s very taboo amongst elves to interrupt another elf’s reverie.

-

Communion and Aleirin:

Elves have something of telepathic abilities, such as the ability to sense their own kind, a ‘sense of welcome,’ ‘warmth’ and ‘safety,’ although this can be obscured. This extends to the ability to enter each others minds and share thoughts, emotions and memory. Although that’s not to say that elves are living in each others heads, nor that they can (or are willing to) do it simply or constantly.

The state of ‘mind melding’ is communion, which is accomplished by sharing reverie while in physical contact (holding hands or pressing palms together, usually). The elven term for communion is apparently quor, however I can’t say for certain that applies to this mystical variety. Communing is credited with the sense of community elves experience, is an important part of elven religion, and they’re noted to anticipate sharing themselves with loved ones and struggle to understand non-elves due to their lack of ability to do so. However, it’s not a state entered into casually, as it requires deep trust and a willingness to be vulnerable with your entire being – you are exposing your every emotion and memory to another. Preparation may take weeks of mundane communication as the elves do away with any prejudices and air concerns to be resolved beforehand. It’s also physically and emotionally draining, and while in communal reverie the elves are entirely unaware of anything but each other and are vulnerable to surrounding hazards. Up to four elves may participate at once.

This awareness of each other lends elves an understanding that allows them to predict each others moods and actions acutely, and aids them to work in sync or borrow one anothers skills for a time (for example an elf who doesn’t know how to speak a certain language may temporarily ‘know’ after borrowing the knowledge from another elf.) Extended use of communion may cause loss of individuality however, as the elves begin to blend into each other.

Elves who isolate themselves from their people - whether this is by their own bitterness, malice, scheming, etc, or if the source is due to external magical affects like the Shadow Weave digging out these emotions (which; Shar, that’s what she does) - lose the ability to reverie and the ability to commune with it. Other elves cannot sense them, describing them as feeling ‘asleep.’

Drow may or may not be capable. They are capable of reverie, which would indicate that they can, they just don't know they can, or plain don't (Lolth would firmly discourage it with torture and death regardless).

Some elves, when they trust each other implicitly, may chose to make the link more permanent – a communion that never ends, in a form called Rapport or aleirin, or aleiryid if the nature of their relationship is romantic. The bonding is permanent, and can usually only be made a single time. Those born of multiple births like twins have rapport with their siblings, but outside of this it’s still uncommon for an elf to make this level of commitment and most are happier with normal, less co-dependent relationships (especially because, if you want to bring in the Complete Book of Elves, the shock of one partner dying can kill the other). A rapport can be made with non-elves, a ranger could even choose to establish one with their animal companion, but such bonds are so rare as to be practically unheard of.

The ability to commune has been attributed to a gland in the elven brain, which produces a magic that veils their minds. At rest it forms a shield that isolates them (and some scholars believe this is where the elven resistance to enchantment magic comes from), but they can lift it or expand it to bring other elven minds in.

The elven resistance to enchantment spells has also been credited to elven culture itself, since magic saturates their world so heavily elves grow up exposed to a constant background radiation of enchantment magic, for lack of a better word, and build up a tolerance. Others have said it’s the elves fey ancestry.

--

Souls/'Ues':

Like most sapient beings who are not humans – or mostly/half-human (excluding half-orcs) dwarves, gnomes or halflings – elven souls, ‘ues’ in elven, are somewhat different to the norm. sometimes differentiated in lore by calling them ‘spirits,’ and do not stay permanently in the afterlife, instead residing in the outer planes for a time (varying from days to millennia) before reincarnating back on the Prime Material Plane. While 5e claims drow are locked out of the cycle, the original lore included drow, and suggested that elves who decide to be evil little bastards in life and bar themselves from Arvandor will find themselves reincarnated as drow (vice versa: a drow who rejects Lolth is unlikely to find themselves reborn in her clutches).

(Elves do not have access to DnD sourcebooks and do not have any concrete idea of this kind of thing, so elven religion and philosophy varies heavily and may or may not reflect these things. Some elves don’t even believe in reincarnation.)

Another traditional side effect was that raise dead didn’t work on elves, only resurrection. Space was made for DMs to hand-waive this if it was getting in the way (because it makes elves expensive to have in the party), and the rule seems to have been officially side-lined for convenience by this point.

--

Ageing:

How elves age has varied by edition and writer. Sometimes they're human aging, sometimes a bit slower, sometimes much, much slower.

In most sources, including 5e core, an elf matures at the same rate, physically and psychologically, as a human, later developing into elven psychological stages as the centuries pass and they outlive the human experience.

In older editions, including realms sources, elves could age slower, taking between 30-60 years to hit puberty (which lasts another 50-85 years). Psychologically, non-elves are known to find elven youths to be rather mature for their age (due to longer lives and communing with the adults in their lives), though they’re still inexperienced by elven standards and hormonal. Elven children are left to pursue their ever shifting curiosity, instincts and impulses which means they generally don’t master any skills and end up about level with any other race by early adulthood. Drow have the fastest rates of maturation, Gold elves the slowest. Wheras in humans afab are known to hit puberty first on average, elves mature at the same average speed regardless.

Elves also have a mystical land-connection thing and are noted to be shaped by their environments, and it has been said of the latter version of ageing that elves may mature faster outside of the slow pace of elven cultures, particularly in dangerous and stressful situations where they need to grow fast.

Bizarrely, and I’m assuming this is a typo, it seems that the process of elven puberty is a bit like getting steroids because they get strength and dexterity bonuses. Or maybe elven teens are just stronger and more agile than their human counterparts, which is probably more likely if it isn't a typo.

[ennissg]

If nobody else asked them yet 3 and 8 for the asks?

I got the exact 3 and 8 ask for A’mos but since you didn’t specify which durge I’m gonna ramble about Dr. Vrach this time if that’s ok, I just think about both of them a lot🙏

Based on this ask. (also ty for creating it! And additionaly thank you for making it not romance specific!) While this is technically durgetash I wanna specify that it is strictly platonic between these two. Tho, I’d argue this doesn’t make their bond less unhinged. It might make it worse actually?

3. What did Durge think of the little wannabe Tyrant at the beginning? Someone competent or someone who tries really quite hard?

For this I hc they met way before Gortash even became a banite, before he was sold to Raphael even. Dr. Vrach never forgets a face, just like he never forgot the face of a certain lower city cobbler’s kid who tried to pickpocket him once but got away bc he couldn’t snatch a child in broad daylight with multiple witnesses, nor could he be bothered, when he wants to keep appearances as a well-meaning doctor. 

He is getting into his 120s when they meet a second time, both being a wizard and a demigod he was able to extend his lifespan way above what an average human has and he has full intent on going as long as he needs to bring his father’s rule and achieve lichdom himself. So, when he sees Gortash again, 10-15 years later, having successfully resurrected the cult of Bane in Baldur’s Gate and strolling over to the living(for now) flesh and blood of Bhaal for an alliance? Oh, he was intrigued to say the least. A man forged in the hells, fostered by tyranny, with an unstoppable drive for progress and absolutely no limits as to what is ethical  - what a terrifying combination for a human to have. What an amazing opportunity to observe this brilliant mind, he would’ve dissected his brain if it didn’t kill him instantly, too. He saw so much potential in Gortash, potential he could help him realize. Dr. Vrach instantly became invested in his work, he wanted to become his mentor, to teach him how much more death he can bring into this realm if he only had more knowledge.

And Gortash, finally getting that older nurturing figure in his life? Finally getting his talents not only recognised but encouraged and cultivated? Yeah, he didn't get an assassin for hire, he got a free uncle who's always elbow deep in gore and likes to call ghouls his "colleagues".

8. Both Gortash and Durge are sadistic little gremlins, so when it comes down to it, who's better at torture? And did they make a competition out of it?

Absolute torture olympics at the Iron Throne all day every day for these two. And, unfortunately, no judge survived to keep the score but it is definitely in Dr. Vrach’s favour. He is always up for “research” and there is no end to lucky participants in his very ethical humanoid trials™ as well as his lifetime experience as a necromancer and a self proclaimed medical professional. Sometimes he’d like to see how many organs a person really needs to stay alive, sometimes he’d try to turn someone’s skin inside out all in the name of curiosity of course. It's edutainment to him. Magic certainly helps to keep them alive longer, he’s not interested in seeing the limit of an average person, he wants to see the limit. Period. How much can one’s body endure before its soul is released to the Gods? How far can you go past organic matter? It was a regular Unit 731 when they got together. 

There isn’t much of a difference between Dr. Vrach’s research and torture though, so it’s hard to tell at times.

[the-bloody-masquerade]

End of Year ask! So I'm playing Amanda, the Ventrue PC in Coteries. It's my first time playing a Ventrue, and I never realized how difficult their bane is. What's the most difficult Ventrue bane you as a player have taken on, and/or given one of original Ventrue characters?

Also from baddass-at-cuddling: Second end of year ask is what do you think LaCroix's Ventrue bane is? Maybe he can only feed from handsome mobsters like Mercurio? 🤔 [I’m gonna throw both your asks in one because the second answer is gonna have a lot to do with my first answer.]  And heads up trigger warning for mention of rape and slavery as I discuss a couple of White Wolfs more *edgy* character arcs.  How about post-first-week-of-the-year ask. That’s about all the quicker I move with these asks. 😅 So! The Ventrue! I love them so much and they are my favorite clan. A lot of people with project their frustrations of the real-world “top 1%” onto the Ventrue and tend to treat them scornfully, or worse yet, project those frustrations onto the people who like the Ventrue. Its just make believe folks! There are numerous reasons to be fond of the vampire aristocracy and not all of them automatically equate “I want to lick the boots of harmful capitalists in real life.”  Anyway, the Ventrue bane can be tricky but I think it is also one of the more appealing aspects of the clan due to how it is springboard for creativity and character development. There is no official “rhyme or reason” to why a certain Ventrue gets a certain Bane but I wanna take a little time to explain my personal pitch for how a Ventrue gets their Bane.  Its not really a singular cohesive idea but I cannot fathom not making a Ventrue character’s Bane relevant to their personality or backstory. Something that explores some aspect of their psyche. Maybe constructs that sense of “personal horror” that vtm says it so loves to cultivate.

I actually know of very few canonical ventrue banes and a lot of them are... dicey. 😬

On the completely innocuous end of the spectrum you have characters like Victor Temple from LA by Night who’s preference appears to be people who “know who he is” ie recognize his fame. Its simple, and not at all difficult as long as he stays in LA or its culture sphere where he as a music industry mogul and social media personality is well known. Pretty easy to tie this to Victor psychologically, he craves recognition and maybe a human aspiration was transformed by supernatural Ventrue ambition upon his embrace. Sure would be an interesting challenge for Victor to travel to an area of the world where his music empire wasn’t well known...

Then there’s Alexander of Paris who’s blood preference only allowed him to feed from women who were in love (but not married). Devilishly specific, perhaps tricky, perhaps not if the Toreador-level-pretty Alexander could just make his blood dolls fall in love with him. I don’t know enough about this character to say if this is backstory-relavant to him. 

On the dicey side you have things like our dear Jan Pieterzoon’s canonical blood restriction to only feed from rape survivors. Sort of recently I’ve seen people tossing about the headcanon that this could be made less stereotypically “White Wolf edgy dark shock value bullshit” if this was a reflection Pieterzoon being a survivor himself, and then exploring the aspects of a “personal horror” how having a blood restriction that reflects that. Because as far as I know, canon never does that, his restriction is just that way in canon to be edgy.  On the other hand, yet another canonical Ventrue with a... squicky blood preference would be Andrew Seneca, a former black American slave who found out after his embrace that his blood preference was in fact, slaves. 😬I am not equipped to parse out the handling of this storyline so I won’t try but he’s got a listing on the white wolf wiki if you want to know. Without getting into it, his backstory and blood preference certainly seem to be made for a very hardcore impactful case of “personal horror,” especially regarding what he was going to do as the ages marched on, but again, I can’t really speak to how it was handled. 

So by now you’ve figured out that I have a preference for Ventrue whos blood preferences speak to something intrinsic to their backstory or character arcs. I actually have something of a mini-dynasty of Ventrue OCs who’s blood preferences I’ve put a lot of thought into. I’d love to go into that but I’d prefer to do it on my personal project blog. So I’ll do that and tag you in it, okay Badass? But I will answer the question of my speculation on LaCroix’s blood preference here (finally, lol). I’ve seen a few people in fandom take a pass at it and many of them do wrap it into psychological aspects of LaCroix that they’ve explored in their own works. 

I have seen a version of LaCroix where his blood preference is blood that is laced with alcohol and/or opium, ‘old timey comfort drugs’ speaking to his 19th century wartime backstory. 

I’ve also seen a take in which LaCroix’s blood preference is dominant women, setting up an accidental embrace and romance that the author wanted to explore.  The take that I use for my own fics is that LaCroix’s blood preference is real down to earth kind of people. Peasants, working class, to put it one way, but not because it contrasts with LaCroix’s presumed aristocracy. No, in my version LaCroix was born a common citizen into a family with only fair means. His vampiric blood preference for low-born hardworking folk is a reflection of almost all the people who surrounded him in life, family, hometown friends and soldier buddies. The kinds of people he remembers fondly from life. And our favorite even-tempered salt of the earth smuggler Mercurio fits that bill for LaCroix.  Another thing I’ve always pondered is if a Ventrue’s ghouls are necessarily a “tell” as to their blood preference. I think for young Ventrue it would be, since traditionally you gotta feed on the person you’re going to ghoul to ghoul them so they have to fit their blood preference. That and one of the primary purposes for a ghoul is a quick easy snack. I suppose older Ventrue could acquire ghouls who aren’t their preference by going out of their way. To make a ghoul you just gotta exsanguinate them, you don’t necessarily have to drink it. [Edit, I mixed this up, the only difference between a ghoul and embracing a new vampire is a ghoul drinks vampire blood while in a state of good health, a new vampire is created when they drink blood while having barely any other blood in their system, ie being exsanguinated. I ALWAYS get the methods of ghouling/embrace confused] So yeah, there’s a whole big barf of my thoughts and ideas about Ventrue. I just kinda tend to do that, take a relatively simple ask and be like “WANNA SEE HOW LONG I CAN TYPE???” When I get there I’ll post about my Ventrue OCs’ blood preferences on my personal project blog. Until then thanks for reading!

[potrix-the-queerschlaeger]

not important, only everything (chapter 1)

For @auripigmentum, because she deserves it. ♥

You can also go and read/follow this story over on AO3.

- - -

▫□▫ family is not an important thing, it's everything ▫□▫  

Jaskier and the guardsman are still talking—yes, almost the entire royal family, no, the sea had been quiet, yes, that is highly suspicious—but Geralt is only half listening, most of his attention focused on the wiggling bundle in his arms.

The princess, Cirilla, his Child Surprise; she seems almost impossibly small cradled in Geralt’s big hands, blinking up at him with big, blue eyes. Geralt vaguely recalls hearing the announcement about her arrival last winter and he frowns, chest feeling oddly tight. She’s not yet been in this world for even a whole year and already she’s had to endure so much. Too much.

And now she’s his. Needing him, depending on him, even though Geralt doesn’t know the first thing about child-rearing.

Gurgling quietly, Cirilla reaches out for Geralt’s thumb and starts pulling it towards her mouth with a determined expression on her little face. Geralt suddenly wonders how thoroughly he’d washed his hands after that ghoul incident yesterday and, wincing when it makes Cirilla let out a noise of protest, tugs his thumb out of her grip.

“She’s probably hungry,” Jaskier muses as he leans in close to peer down at Cirilla. He wiggles his own fingers at her, smiling half-heartedly when it makes her coo. “Poor thing.”

“There are some supplies,” the guardsman pipes up, holding out a tattered bag. Sheepishly, he adds, “It’s not much. We didn’t want to risk getting her things from the castle and being seen. As of now, word is the young princess perished along with her parents and grandmother and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow at him, though it’s Jaskier who asks, “You believe someone close to the family was involved?”

The guardsman shrugs helplessly. “We don’t know, not yet. And until we can confidently dismiss those rumours, the king believes it would be best for the princess to remain as far away from the chaos in Cintra as possible.”

“Well,” Jaskier says, entirely unapologetic when faced with the guardsman’s glower, “Eist always was the reasonable one.”

“She’ll be safe,” Geralt cuts in, before the guardsman has the chance to voice his disapproval. “You have my word.”

It surprises him, how much he means it. Jaskier, though, is smiling proudly when Geralt glances over at him, as if he’d never thought to expect anything less. Geralt ducks his head and resettles Cirilla in his arms, unable to hold his gaze.

After the guardsman takes his leave, Jaskier shoos Geralt towards the bed before picking up Cirilla’s bag to rifle through it. Geralt sits down carefully and watches, equal parts intrigued and amused, as Jaskier sorts things into piles, muttering quietly under his breath.

“She won’t go cold, at least,” is Jaskier’s eventual verdict as he straightens back up, but he’s frowning ever so slightly. “Although a trip to the market is definitely in order. First things first, however!”

Ten months is old enough to eat certain solid foods, Jaskier informs Geralt while he’s ripping up some soft bread he’s gone downstairs to the tavern for. He dips a small piece into the mug of lukewarm milk he’d purchased along with it, then holds it against Cirilla’s lips. She purses them, then smacks them a few times before eagerly opening her mouth.

“Just like that, clever girl,” Jaskier praises, booping her on the nose. Cirilla shrieks happily and accepts another piece of bread.

Jaskier feeds her until she starts turning her head away from the food and rubbing at her face, looking grumpy. Geralt’s arms feel strangely empty when Jaskier swoops Cirilla up, so he clenches his fists in his lap, looking closely at how Jaskier first burps her, then swaddles her in a blanket from the bag.

He settles her in the middle of Geralt’s bed, pillows on either side of her so she won’t accidentally roll off the edge, humming a soft tune as he does so. He keeps a hand on her tummy, rubbing it in slow circles, until her eyes eventually flutter and stay closed.

Geralt is impressed, although he’d rather bite off his own tongue than admit as much out loud.

“I don’t think she’ll wake before I get back,” Jaskier says, picking up and shrugging on his doublet.

Geralt’s head snaps up from where he’d been looking down at Cirilla. “What.”

“Well,” Jaskier’s tone suggests he thinks Geralt’s being a twit, something Geralt’s become unfortunately familiar with over the last few months of travelling together, “would you like to go out and purchase supplies?”

Geralt would not.

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Jaskier says, clearly reading as much from Geralt’s expression. He lays a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and squeezes gently, though he still looks distinctly amused. “She’s a tiny human and you’re a big, bad Witcher. You’ll be fine.”

Cirilla does not stay asleep until Jaskier gets back. She blinks awake barely half an hour after he’s left, mouth turned down and eyes watery. Geralt realises why she’s unhappy as soon as he leans over her to check on her, gagging a little in surprise at the unexpectedly pungent smell wafting off her.

“This will stay our secret,” he tells her as he, carefully, lifts her up. Geralt takes her answering gurgle as agreement.

Cirilla’s cloth diaper is completely soiled and there don’t seem to be any spares in the bag. Hoping that’s one of the things Jaskier’s out picking up, Geralt undresses Cirilla and carries her over to the wash bucket in the corner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the worst of the mess, Cirilla is whining angrily and, at least to his enhanced senses, still smells as if she’d rolled around in a stable. After a moment of consideration, Geralt calls for a bath.

The innkeeper’s son seems startled at the sight of Geralt with a small child in his arms, but is smart enough not to comment. He does return after carrying in the last bucket of water, though, offering Geralt a piece of soap with a shy smile.

“It’s very mild,” he explains when Geralt just looks at him, “Ma uses it on my baby brother. She also said to wait until the water’s not too hot anymore, ‘bout the little one’s body temperature.”

Geralt grunts out a stiff, “Thank you,” and the boy grins as he scampers off again.

The bath turns out to be a good idea. Geralt leans back against the edge of the tub with Cirilla propped against him. She appears thrilled to be splashing around, waving her arms and kicking her legs, babbling excitedly. She yanks on Geralt’s hair and tries to stick his fingers into her mouth while he does his best to wash her, but is otherwise cooperative, even though she pulls a disgruntled face at him when he has to pour water over her head to wash the soap out of her hair.

The water’s still warm once he’s done and Cirilla’s eyes start to drop again, so he gathers her closer, tucking her against his chest.

He’ll have to get out before too long, though, otherwise she’ll grow too cool. It’s terrifying, the thought that he could harm her, or worse, without even meaning to; sometimes, Geralt forgets that humans are fragile, compared at least to Witchers, and it takes Jaskier complaining about his sore feet or grumbling stomach for Geralt to remember to find a tavern or a place to rest for the night.

And while Cirilla’s definitely vocal, in a fashion, she can’t exactly tell him what she wants or needs. He supposes there’s ways to tell that he just doesn’t know about yet, although Jaskier certainly seems to.

There are nieces and nephews, Geralt thinks, but if there’s one thing Jaskier is reluctant to talk about, it’s his family. He’s of noble birth, that much is plainly obvious, and he’s fondly mentioned older brothers once or twice, though he clams up real quick whenever the subject of parents is brought up somehow.

Wherever Jaskier’d learned to care for children, though, Geralt’s certainly glad he has the skills.

As if summoned by Geralt’s thoughts, there’s a brief knock on the door before it’s pushed open and Jaskier walks in, arms laden with his purchases. “A little help, here, Geralt, if you wouldn’t—” he begins, but trails off when he spots the two of them.

An unreadable expression flits across his face, there and gone again in a flash, and he more or less drops the bags and parcels on the nearest bed. “I’ll just. Supper. Why don’t I go and get us some supper while the two of you finish up here, yes?”

Geralt is left staring at the door until Cirilla shifts in his hold and he decides it’s probably time to get dry.

Jaskier is back to his normal, chatty self when he gets back, filling Geralt in on what he’s bought and what it’s all for while they eat. He shows Geralt how to put a fresh diaper on Cirilla, only laughing a little at Geralt’s fumbling, and approves Geralt’s swaddling technique with a big smile and a nod.

“So,” Jaskier asks, once they’re both settled in for the night, Cirilla still fast asleep next to Geralt, “what’s the plan, here?”

“It’ll turn colder soon.” Geralt watches Cirilla breathe, her tiny chest rising and falling quietly. “Kaer Morhen for the winter, I think, as soon as I’ve gathered enough coin for a wagon and a mule. Make it easier on Roach, if she doesn’t have to carry all three of us plus our things.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Jaskier, but when Geralt glances over at him, he’s trying hard to act nonchalant, absently fiddling with his blanket. Geralt decides not to pry and, after a moment, hears a quiet sigh of relief.

“Tell me about it,” Jaskier murmurs, turning onto his side so he’s facing Geralt. “Your Witcher keep. What’s it like?”

“It’s—” Geralt closes his eyes against the flood of memories; cold, pain, fear, but also camaraderie, companionship, belonging. “It’s home,” he finishes, mouth twitching up into a smile.

[eldonash]

meet in the ashes | graham&orobas

Summary: Orobas in the mists of trying to find Carrington, finds time to invite Graham to Bloodhaven. However, in his interrogation in the Outskirts for information on his missing friend, the newborns there decide they have had enough of his questions and attack the pair. It ends poorly for them.

Orobas stood on a lamp post, lean and long, with an impeccable suit and a dissociative stare down the dark road. The outskirts were always thrumming with strange energy. The scratching awareness of a ghoul coming out of a street drain, or the muffled scream from someone’s neck being crunched into, or the fast paced steps of someone just trying to get from point A to point B knowing they might have walked into a horror movie if they looked into the darkness. Orobas turned his ivory handled dagger in his hand, blood dripped down the blade, splatter on the lamp post flickering in need of a new light bulb, the red glass running with a bead then splattering to the floor. He had spent the night looking for Carrington and the other older vampire wasn’t to be found. So he was awaiting someone new, maybe to see if he could figure something out, maybe to see what this vampire could do.  

So he was meeting a vampire. Well, he’d technically already met the one when he dropped by to pick up his beloved cardboard cutout of Jacob to harass his roommate with but Graham, as with most things, treated the exchange with an almost insulting casualty because relationships were for suckers. Well-- he… WAS a sucker but in the more literal sense-- never mind. He shook his head as he walked in the pools of light the posts provided as he knew less of where he was specifically going and more just wandering until his senses could pick up where this other vampire was. The Outskirts was… pretty big? He didn’t go there often unless he was having his… a moment. WHICH he’d been pretty good about all things considered since he moved in; the whole ‘not breathing’ thing found itself to be most useful. Unless… was that what this other vampire was anticipating on? Nooo, he couldn’t have known, could he? Unless there was a chain-gang waiting for them to swoop down on them. He wasn’t-- it was too soon for that, right? But what iffff THAT was the ‘delicious’ part of what the other vamp was talking about. Ugh, he hated these pseudo-moral dilemmas… Wait, was that his man? Out in the distance? “Yo!” He called casually regardless of whether it was or not, waving the other figure down.

The moon was high, and bright, lingering up behind him, casting long shadows, and showing the pockets of asphalt broken from disrepair. The shout drew his gaze towards the other and there was the smallest part of Orobas that wondered if this vampire was sent here to fight him-- but the tone, the casualness. This must be the one he spoke to, an uninfluenced one-- someone new. “Mhm,” he disappeared from view, the low fog in the area taking him away from sight, he appeared a few paces from the other, and reached out, grabbing a different vampire who was hiding and slammed them down on the ground. With a calm tilt of his head, he stepped on their wrist causing the weapon in their hand to clank on the ground. “Look at this,” he said darkly, the bones in their wrists breaking. “Hello Graham-- “ The old vampire glanced over, an eerie tilt of his head. “You might want to duck--” Five other vampires came out of the darkness at them. The introduction had hardly been formal when the duo found themselves in a scrap. Or maybe… wait was this a trap? Did Graham get lured into a trap? “The hell, man?” The question fell from his thoughts out of his mouth but no offense could be found in his tone as he did what he was instructed to and ducked, taking a fluid sidestep as he did so and his hands raised in a brawler’s stance instinctively as their party seemed to grow in the span of a few seconds. “I’m guessing these aren’t friends of yours,” He gave a cocky grin, his mind telling him that he would’ve been feeling an adrenaline rush right about now. Had he ever fought other vampires before? He hadn’t ever fought other vampires before. “So whose blood?” He asked, casting the quickest of glances at the ruby-coated knife, dodging one of the incoming bodies and retaliating with a sharp elbow to the back of its head as it passed by, an instantaneous motion that resulted in a ‘crack’.

“Bait,” Orobas answered easily. These vampires were young, thirsty easily with just the scent, and Orobas had to relish the craze they could fall in at this age. He was like this too back then, Haxian there to make sure he didn’t go too far, swell his stomach to the point it was bursting. Orobas had a gleeful grin now and moved upward off the vampire he dropped to the ground and positioned himself with a confident fighting stance. “Also, I’m trying to gather information. You see-- one of my companions is missing and I’m certain someone knows something.” Orobas ducked when another vampire came for him, their fangs out reaching. He grabbed their arm and sliced it in half with his knife, the vampire screamed and hissed at him, and Orobas holding the severed limb, used it to strike another coming for him. Orobas laughed at their pain. Not having moved from his stance. “This is the best practice too, letting people act and come for you will always give them the disadvantage. Oh, and this isn’t what I had planned for us.” Bait, huh? Graham kicked the small of the back of the one whose head he cracked and looked over to see Orobas using an arm as a weapon. “Aw, what? No fair, I want an arm!” He whined loudly to be heard over the screaming vampire and he glanced down at the blood again. Bait… Well, he didn’t feel any lust for vampire blood so he challenged himself to breathe, to ACTUALLY breathe, to take in the scent of whatever that blood belonged to and it surged through him, shivering down his spine like a nail on a chalkboard and he exhaled sharply, his long, sharp tongue lolling out of his mouth as he turned his torso to regard the one-armed vampire. “I said-- I want an ARM!” He snarled, his voice carrying through that he was smiling widely as he virtually pounced on the younger creature and yanked on its other arm as hard as he could, feeling that one smell of blood pumping through him like the best shot of adrenaline in the world. The vampire screamed more, oh how it screamed, but they were like music to Graham’s ears as he heard the splintering and popping of sinew and muscle tearing, bones separating and soon enough… “Now I too am WELL ARMED,” He said victoriously, holding the arm up briefly before holding it like a bat and swinging at another vampire. “SO! What’s this about some companion that’s gone MISSING?” He asked as the limb collided with the vampire’s shoulder.

Orobas didn’t step back, watching Graham pounce on the injured newborn vampire and take their other arm. His smile was dangerously still, frozen in pleasure that had his insides aching at the carnage. The sound drew a gentle worry to his lip, tongue darting out to dampen it. Orobas existed through countless wars and battles overseas, and here in the United States. He always found a draw to those bringers of violence and destruction, and could so easily be swept up in it; wanting more. Taking it too far. His old weapon was coated in human blood, the body tossed near a bush, their heartbeat weak but alive, a melody should one listen closely for it. The old creature looked down at the vampire who was in pain and screaming about it, as Graham jumped off to fight another. He regarded them, stepping on their chest. “Tell me, a name. Someone Carrington speaks too. I know someone knows something, even small.” The newborn stilled, their fangs out and eyes molten. “I know nothing!” they snarled. “Yet you are gaining so much experience from this fight. You see what happens when you run straight ahead? Tell me your masters name. I want to speak with them.” The vampire blurted it out, and Orobas turned to grab the neck of someone trying to run him through with a metal rod. The object just went into his side, ruining his nice shirt. The real monster within Orobas surface. His skin appeared almost papery thin, hanging off his bone structure as the graying and bruised look around his face, sunk in. The faintest sound of bats fluttering around could almost be heard, like his body would explode into a swarm with one blink. His eyes were a crimson that burned through the whites. “Fine--” his voice sweet as song, a cheeriness against the monstrous visage. He swiped out and decapitated the vampire. “You will all die by our hand then.” Despite how much fun Graham was having, he found himself getting distracted by the smell of the blood between each attack he made, starting to almost wander off in search for the source instead of committing to their fight. It was… problematic, admittedly but in his easily-distracted gaze was the sight of Orobas shifting into a swarm of bats. “Whaaaa we can do that, too??” He asked incredulously. His sire never told him THAT. He wanted to do that! He also wanted to take the vampire’s fingers, tear them off and put them between HIS fingers so that he’d be like… the Wolverine of fingers. Was that too much? That was probably too much so he lobbed the arm at one of the vampires and, hearing the word ‘die’, he took that as permission to stop beating and start killing, cupcake! He jittered with energy, his tongue flopping around like a dog in the wind as he danced around the makeshift battlefield, fluidly avoiding most attacks (he did get a nice swipe in the face, embarrassingly enough while another one ripped into his calf) and countering with his own punches and kicks. “I want to PILE DRIVE YOU,” He pointed to the guy that was rushing him, albeit with a little more fear than before, and they met in the middle in what Graham knew the other guy wasn’t calling a “welcoming embrace”. “So the guy’s name is Carrington?” Graham called to Orobas as he lifted the other vampire clean off the ground by the waist and did exactly what he said he was going to do, hearing the crunching splat of the vampire’s head against the ground like a melon. “I think he gave me a Jacob cutout!”

The chaos was so sweet tasting in itself, and though he hadn’t originally meant to kill these young vampires, he was also old enough to push his dominance over them and their masters should they want to keep delaying his search. Orobas didn’t actually understand what he was feeling. Not knowing where Carrington was-- he didn’t know him that well, they could barely be called friends, but the moment they spoke to each other, something tethered him. Likely them being so old, knowing what it felt like to be involved with slayers finding them and turning the tide to kill their families. They both knew ancient war, and pain in a profound way those born within peaceful era’s couldn’t begin to understand. A special kin. Orobas fought with an elegance, and used his age to his advantage. Disappearing and appearing behind people, above them, or using his speed to dismember with clean cuts to have them drop to the ground. At hearing the last line, over the crunch of a head exploding. The silence of the disposed of younglings, had him standing among the dust and a few more in the distance. “A Jacob what?”  “It’s a, uh…” Graham snapped his fingers in mock recollection, his other hand running fingers over the fresh slices in his face boredly yet lightly. “Oh RIGHT,” He exclaimed, spinning on a heel and kicking a fourth vampire in the jaw, going in for a headbutt as the young wretch recoiled. “It’s a cardboard cutout. Like those things you see in music stores of Willie Nelson or what-the-fuck-ever,” He explained, suddenly stopping in the middle of the fight again, once more instinctively starting to wander in the direction of the body before forcing himself to stand still. “They’re usually about, I dunno five or six feet tall,” He continued, brow furrowing and holding up a hand as if for comparison. “Dude gave me one of that Jacob kid from Twilight - the run that turned into the wolf and had problems keeping a shirt on,” He tapped a finger to his chin, hearing an incoming attack and he moved fluidly, catching the outstretched arm of the assailant and swinging him up and over his shoulder where the young vampire landed with a heavy ‘thud’. “So if this WASN’T your plan,” He started, giving the other guy’s face a swift kick with his boot. “What was?”

Orobas had no fucking idea what Graham was talking about, but he didn’t let up air that he didn’t. He assumed, maybe, it was something the other picked up being that it was a cutout, but the show, movie-- whatever it was went right over the old creatures head who didn’t keep up with much entertainment and rarely watched any. Orobas was crashed into by two young, and very angry vampires at him, and he would need to find their master-- were they just making a bunch of vampires to see if they turned? Did that mean there were a bunch of spawn nearby too. What a nuisance-- Orobas in his entire life never made one vampire. The connection to personal, and the time never felt entirely right to aid them in their learning. He palmed the face of the one trying to bite into him, and shoved them aside, still standing in the same place, and stood on the fallen with a dust dress shoe, pushing his heel into their cheek. 

The other he grabbed back, “same master, mhm?” The questioned was deeply laced in compulsion, though on a vampire it couldn’t work, Orobas’ tone was enough of a threat, inches close to their face. The muscles around their eyes twitched-- and he grinned, “okay. I will deal with this. Messy, messy. I don’t need slayers stopping by wanting to dispose of you. Though, maybe I could let them lob a few heads off. Get them to do the work for incompetent masters.” He shoved them and the vampire snarled back and then ran off, the one he was stepping on too was released and they scrambled up and tried to run away. Orobas frowned, but referred to Graham with a curious tilt of their head. It wasn’t a threat-- though it was clear he was still trying to figure the other out. “I actually brought you a bottle of blood from one of our favorite dolls. Do you know Justin Timberlake? Mhm, he is a guest of ours.” The younger vampire was still having fun and while he felt himself pacing to pursue his new prey anxiously, Graham didn’t give chase as Orobas let the remaining members go. He felt rabid, hands shaking as he took wide strides back and forth like a tiger confined behind a thick pane of glass. He eventually started to allow himself to wander like he wanted to do the whole time, searching for the source of the blood. He forced himself to stop however and tapped his foot on the ground, not trying to appear impatient but he could feel himself jittering still. He never could tell where the fever pitch was and when he started to lower from it but the smell had arrived and now he needed to feed. “Hmm?” He asked, less because he didn’t hear and more because he rose his eyebrows as if he didn’t know WHAT he heard. “I’m sorry did you say you have Justin Timberlake as a-- “guest”?” He asked, barely concealing the surprise in his voice. “Can I ask why?”

Orobas dusted his shirt, and seemed annoyed that another shirt got a hole in in before he responded. Closing his jacket, and putting his dagger in it’s holster under it he seemed elegant once more. Like he just stepped out of a CEO meeting, and was going for a stroll versus having gotten into a fight. He smiled with a gentle delivery, “yes, my master acquired him for us. He’s here writing music or taking a couple years off the grid. But he’s, mhmm, he’s delicious. I have a bottle for you to sample. It’s not something easily acquired without killing him-- but he doesn’t mind in the least giving us a few pints.” His eyes flashed dangerously and knowingly. Orobas walked a few steps, the tapping of his shoes to the asphalt moving the dusted creatures around in the air. Near the lamppost and in a bush laid the half dead human, slowly bleeding still with long gashes across his abdomen and wrists. Orobas looked down at her, “I’m thoroughly annoyed when vampires make so much noise here. In the past, I could move around easily. Being loud, killing sprees, they were fun. But here is here, and here is my home. Newborn vampires have no chill. Are you the same then?” there was a challenge in tone as if he was to compare Graham to the ones dusted-- “can you bear it?” Red eyes danced from the dirty, dusty ground to the older vampire that stood before him in a professional manner to where he found where the blood source was. The tone in Orobas’ voice certainly didn’t fly by Graham unnoticed and he cocked his head sharply, the bones cracking faintly in retaliation. “Bear what?” He asked, his own tone not taking a growl to it yet but he could feel where he would start to get hot if he still generated body heat. He started to pace around more, keeping his bright eyes on the other vampire in a manner that definitely insinuated that he wasn’t backing down from anything; fear wasn’t a concept he was familiar with, not anymore. If he was to die by this other vampire, then fine but he wasn’t about to stand here and be equated to the dipshits that just attacked them. “Bear you flinging blood around hoping to lure in a bunch of assholes that have no chill? Buddy, I don’t know how old you are but I was taught right out the gate that my sitchiation’s a little… different,” His nostrils flared as a human’s did to express emotion. “Was THIS your plan? To put me on the spot then make me feel like a dumbass by riling me up then holding what you promised above my head?” He asked, feeling more emotion being added to his line of questions. “Bear what? Tell me. I can bear anything.”

Mhm, you are interesting. Orobas has lived long enough to feel like he’s met every soul in existence. Not literally, but he could categorize certain souls into the same type and group them. He couldn’t help but want to know how his kin reacted, where their lines were, what they were capable of. He desired them to be strong, to be ruthless, to be cunning, and dangerous. Fear was power if you held it in your hands, and Orobas was a puppet master with it. Graham was someone he didn’t know, and yet he always felt a fight was a decent test to see what they were capable of. His eyes danced over and his smile was there, almost painted on like a porcelain doll. “No, I do not lie to my kin-- what I say is what I mean. It is a question that has an answer, it really is that simple. You shouldn’t feel like a ‘dumbass’. You are beautiful, rash, and seem to hold a lot of pride that makes you easy to get along with.” His truth and words were usually literal when it involved those of his own kind, but it could be difficult to believe it with Orobas stoic expressions and singsong tone. “The fact you feel frustrated by my inquiry tells me everything else I need to know.” Orobas extended his hand holding a key. “Would you like to see Bloodhaven then?” Well, nothing Orobas had used to describe him was wrong, per se and while he didn’t relax at the older vampires answer, Graham let a smile of his own onto his face once more, choosing to take the words at face value instead of spending time obsessing over what intricately-hidden meaning Orobas’ words could’ve meant; he used to do that before, when he had things to worry about and relationships he didn’t want to ruin with his reputation. Now, he WAS ruined and ruinous; that reflected in the rush through him, the pulse to consume and tear something apart. “No offense man, but I’d really like to see something living in front of my face so I can bleed it dry first,” He decided to be honest himself, the aggression towards Orobas leaving his tone and leaving only excited trembling, as if every word was being pulled deeper and deeper from the well of self-control. The restraint was starting to hurt. “It’s a thing and I know it’s really stupid and I’m sorry but I just… GOTTA.”

A soft laugh. “This one is almost dead, nothing much left. Come, let's find something. The outskirts always have treats around.” His eyes briefly fell on the woman dying in the bush, she was already unconscious, something else would probably eat her-- it was no mind. “Before the sewer creatures slipped out to grab her,” Orobas took off almost gleefully, his body disappeared from view and appeared in another spot up the road waving lightly. In his arms another person-- a struggling male with Orobas’ arm wrapped around his chest, the other over his mouth so he couldn’t scream. His chin playfully rested on his neck. “He’s gotta,” he purred into the man’s ear, teeth just scraping behind it. “Can’t help it. You understand right? You live here, you know why this is happening. Why you are going to die.” The man struggled more, screaming behind the enclosed hand. Orobas’ eyed Graham before he pushed the man forward.  Graham didn’t mask his disappointment at the mention of his first option being nearly dead; slowed heart rate, the blood wasn’t flowing as healthily. Boring. He did, however, express mild curiosity when Orobas suggested finding something else - good, he needed something, anything, an addict desperate for the next hit. He followed the older vampire until the latter disappeared in a haze then reappeared elsewhere, and Graham whipped to find him quickly, only looking at the vampire for a moment before his eyes became fixated on the human he’d found. He approached in what could’ve been described as a prowl, almost bestial in nature as his long, razored tongue slid out of his mouth expectantly. His fingers twitched, his nostrils flared, the pulse rang in his head and the second Orobas let go, he was on the man like a dog being given permission to catch a treat that had been balanced on its nose. The two were on the ground in a heavy thud, Graham covering the man’s mouth just as Orobas did as his own mouth burrowed into his neck. He used his knees to secure his prey in place and his other hand tore at the skin around his chin and throat, getting blood on his fingers and drinking deep from the wounds in a much less refined manner than he was sure other vampires in the group did. Where a moan of pleasure might’ve been heard through the feeding, instead Graham purred with a guttural, otherworldly sound and it was quiet, reverberating through his Adam's apple, twisting around the squelching of blood against his lips and chin. As he fed, he could feel the pressure and anxiety dissipating; this was his only available target at the moment so he knew it would have to do. He burrowed deeper into the man’s neck like a gator to a fish, snapping tendons and chewing veins to destroy everything he could touch with his teeth. He wanted it to last forever so when it ended far sooner than he was wanting, he pulled back with a satiated gasp as though he were holding his breath, his face covered in the red liquid. “God, that was good.” He exhaled, tongue reaching under his chin and up to his lower eyelid. “Okay. Okay, NOW I’m ready for Bloodhaven,” He looked up to regard Orobas, eyes still burning red but no longer shaking with the manic energy that consumed him previously.

Orobas took a step back so his expensive clothes didn’t get splattered with blood. He couldn’t help but marvel at the messy way Graham attacked the other. So personal it was to bite victims, to use your teeth as the weapon to tear through flesh, tendon, and artery. Orobas knew the feeling intimately, but he’s always preferred a blade even to his own fangs. The face-- contained so much information. From pleasure, shifting to fear, to surprise, and Orobas enjoyed seeing everything happen in a fast shift. Pupils dilating, their gasps holding their mouth open. Ah-- it was-- just so much better than the carnage of burrowing his face into flesh. Just different, and that was what made their kind difficult to deal with it wasn’t it? So many types, so many ways to die by them. Orobas couldn’t deny it was a little erotic, the position, the sounds-- but his pleasure in it was hidden and savored as he smiled down at Graham. Countless ideas for him filled his head, like a loaded gun Orobas could point if he earned their trust. “There are not many rules, but I will warn you. My master is an Elder-- and Bloodhaven is under his protection. Should you cause problems-- problems being that you give our location away, or kill our blood dolls-- he is the one that deals with you. But it’s a place that is safe to crash if you need it and learn about your kind. Carrington--” he gritted his teeth with a tsk, “we are working on an archive. I just need to find him-- and if he’s killed I will find the one who did it. But welcome to our small club.” The younger vampire stood up with a small jerk or two of his body as he felt the rest of the tension sufficiently return to its dormancy. Graham wiped his face on the back of his hand and licked the residue off, glancing at Orobas with a sharp gaze as the latter spoke. A vampire lounge run by an Elder, huh? And apparently Justin Timberlake was there, too. All they were missing was Coldplay then it could turn into a cute little hipster hideout. “Thanks,” He said first, addressing the last sentence Orobas said first rather than trying to go forwards from the start. “I won’t tell a single soul about it; that’s not my style. Also I’ll leave the whole ‘blood doll’ thing to you guys - I’m not really the ‘playing with dolls’ type.” This would’ve been a nice segue into the topic he didn’t want to bring up but felt it necessary to mention. “Since your master’s an Elder, I’m sure he’s told you what an Upior is?” He asked, biting his nails to clean them, almost catlike in how he preened himself after his feeding. 

“Being told and seeing is very different,” Orobas mused lightly with a shrug. Haxian and him have witnessed many dangerous vampire in their long life, some, they had to run from themselves or to find backup if they decided to come after them for being in their country. Not all vampires were friendly together, which was expected, and Orobas and Haxian were a duo that also very easily caused hostility against others if they chose. “I’ve seen many of our kind in the traveled world. How we all feed and kill isn’t important to me so long as it's not leading trouble to others who live here permanently. Outsiders will always be given a stronger warning for that very reason. Your bloodlust is quite intense. Long ago I’d have killed until I had to be carried off by my master in exhaustion-- so I understand the feeling. I’m too old now to feel that anymore, I’m a little envious.” “Oh good, then you know how much of a pain in the ass it is,” Graham replied, finishing cleaning his face off and checking his clothes to see how much blood got on them, surprised to find that it wasn’t that great of an amount, only having spilled some near the collar of his shirt - he could either take it off as he went home or, if he wanted to be more boring, he could zip up his jacket. “I get it, I get it; I gotta adjust to the rest of the group, not the other way around. I know how to play nice. Just don’t be surprised if you call a group meeting and I can’t make it or whatever - I know you can tell but it’s not exactly my choice to do what I half to do sometimes. I can’t be that super fancy-pants old-timey vampire sitting in a chair admiring a fire sipping wine from a goblet.” He was wondering why it was so hard for him to just be so honest as to say what his actual problems was… and he wondered if it was because deep down, he knew it WAS a problem but that would show weakness and he didn’t want to do that in front of Orobas. “BUT-- but I get the rules, no problem.” 

“No, you do not actually have to adjust to the group,” Orobas found himself chuckling at the visual of Carrington and himself in that very position in their small archive, two old creatures with many lifetimes to their names. A pang hit him strongly in missing him. Younger vampires were always such a treat, not newborns though-- he loathed them without their masters hands, hence the dust blowing down the road. “Just be yourself, this isn’t a situation of imposing on you. The dolls are, well. With my age, compulsion can be strong even when I don’t mean it to be. They are obedient and I like that very much. Less deaths do help in the grand sense, but I have no qualms about killing. I quite enjoy it.” Orobas reassured best he could, but with the younger kin he knew they all needed a hand in something. This was why he wanted to have Bloodhaven. Teeth was the best place to go to chill, drink, and enjoy time together-- but their clubhouse could be a place to come when you needed help from an Elder, or from those older enough to protect you. “Come, I’ll show you the place so you know where it is.” It was too soon to tell how much faith Graham put in Orobas’ word; he had to admit, part of him ached when the older vampire spoke so highly and seemingly fondly of the relationship between himself and his master, always wishing that his own hadn’t suggested he leave when they deemed his training ‘complete’. He felt sometimes that he had so much more to learn but they both realised early that the loneliness he experienced at leaving his own life behind so abruptly combined with his challenging nature and utter inability to experience primal fear in the face of death would be a difficult problem and not one she could fix, not without drastically changing him and he wasn’t ready for that transformation; something had to give and they knew he was unable. The invitation to Bloodhaven was a nice idea in theory for him but he found himself still thinking and having trouble finding a potential for him to fit in given his precarious relationship with even the sight of blood. Then again, the word ‘challenge’ sprung up in his mind again and he was curious to see how that’d work out. ‘Just be yourself’. Well, Orobas HAD said that so. He nodded and put his hands in his pockets. “Sure thing. Lead the way, Orobas.” He gave a smile of respect to the older vampire. This might be good for him.

[lilacflamesss]

Birth

Summary: The first time Ayato sees Touka kill someone; the first time he kills someone. Perhaps the beginning of a downward spiral which saw its roots in a six-year-old giving in to selfish, violent desires. (6.8k words)

Warning: Some gore. Also, I feel like some people might take the scenes between Touka and Ayato wrongly. He’s 6 and she’s 10. There’s no romantic connotations at all. They’re close siblings who have no one but each other.

A/N: Finally wrote a Kirishima fic after so long! I wanted to explore Ayato changing from a pure, kind-hearted little boy to someone consumed by hatred and anger. I don’t think losing his father immediately changed it. It was probably a slow process. This is meant to be the start. I thought maybe his first kill could snap something in him when he realises how it makes him feel. It’s hard writing as a six year old. I tried my best. I hope it turned out okay.  Please do reblog this and feel free to leave some comments!

Preview: 

“Onee-chan!”

Touka jumps away from the men and whips her head towards him as he calls out to her. Her eyes widen immediately and he sees fear and a hint of anger.

“Ayato? What are you doing here?”

One of the men swings something at her, it looks like a huge bat, only it’s crystallised and bright blue. Touka dodges it easily. Ayato hadn’t even know his sister is that fast and agile. Her kaguwhatever wing appears and in one move, she slices the man in the throat. Blood splatters out, onto her and onto their surroundings. Ayato freezes.

She… killed him…

His sister. His kind, loving, gentle sister. She just killed someone in cold blood.

“Onee-chan—”

“Get out of here Ayato!” she cries out. He hadn’t noticed the other man, who’s now standing right by his side, a gun pulled out and aimed at his head. Ayato’s still frozen. He can’t move. He doesn’t really know what’s going on as well.

The only thing he knows is that he can’t do anything. He doesn’t know how to use his wings. He doesn’t know how to fight. He’s weak. He’s dumb. He should have realised this before he runs out. Ayato trembles as he hears the man pull the trigger, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. He should jump out of the way at least, but his legs aren’t listening to him.

He hears a bang as the gun fires and immediately, his head explodes into a burst of pain. He wants to cry out, but he chokes on his words. Is he dead as well now? Is he going to where his parents are? Otou-san, Okaa-san… I…

“Don’t wander too far off.” She’s holding him as she speaks, their bodies pressing against each other in an attempt to keep warm in the winter snow. It’s cold and it feels colder when Touka pulls away from him and starts walking away. Ayato shivers immediately and he wants to call out for her, but he shuts up as the thought surfaces, forcing out a smile as he follows behind Touka to the door of their current home— an abandoned warehouse in a part of town he’s never been to before this. Touka opens the door, takes a look outside and turns back to him briefly. Be a good boy, her eyes seem to say, before she nods at him and slips out of the place. The sound of the door closing echos around him and as it repeats, the fact that he’s alone now begins to weigh heavier and heavier down on his shoulders.

Onee-chan, don’t go. Onee-chan, come back. Onee-chan, it’s dark. Onee-chan, it’s cold. Onee-chan, I’m scared.

He shakes his head again, forcing himself to shut out the thoughts even as a sob escapes his mouth. No. He can’t do this. He can’t continue to be a baby. He’s six years old now— a big boy. When Touka was six, she was fighting to protect him. He needs to be like her. He’s the boy after all and Father said that because of that, he needs to protect her. He’s definitely not protecting her if all he’s doing is sitting at home and crying to himself.

Don’t be a crybaby. You’re a man, aren’t you? Touka used to tell him that a lot. She used to play a lot of pranks on him and he used to get very scared, running into his father’s arms with tears streaming down his face. Both his sister and father had said he used to do that to his mother as well, but Ayato can’t remember his mother at all. She died when he was two. Back then, Father used to tell him that Mother went somewhere far, far away and he’d only see her when he’s old enough to go there as well. He wonders if that’s where Father is now. Did he leave Touka and Ayato to be with their mother? Why couldn’t he bring them along?

When we die, our souls go to a better place— a place where light shines through leaves and it never rains; a place where laughter and joy is the language we speak; a place so magical that it makes the most fantastical of fairy tales seem like nothing.

How cruel— their father went there without them.

There’s nothing for Ayato to do right now. He doesn’t have any chores to complete. He used to help Father out around the house, especially whenever Father and Touka went out. Ayato didn’t like the outdoors that much. There are too many people, especially the humans who were different from them ghouls. The sun is too hot in summer and it burns his skin. The snow is too cold in winter and it stifles his nose. Staying at home is better. So when Touka goes with Father to see their neighbours, he stays home and does other things to help.

But their home now isn’t even theirs and there’s nothing for him to clean. The only clothes they have are what’s on them so there’s nothing for him to fold. Ayato walks around aimlessly, pausing by the cracked and broken mirror that lay against a corner of the wall and staring at his reflection.

Sometimes, when it’s too hard to really see, his reflection looks like Touka. It’s times like this he feels comforted in her absence. He wants his sister to be with him more, but he knows she can’t afford to do so. He’ll only be a burden if he stays by her side when she’s out.

Touka used to bring him everywhere she goes, never leaving him out of her sight. But when they went underground that one time, they met some really mean ghouls. Ayato hadn’t understood what was going on. Touka talked to them in a language he didn’t know. But she was angry and they were angry as well. Ayato was scared. He stuck close to her but when the ghouls jumped at them, he was pulled away. He didn’t know what happened after that. He only knew that he felt a lot of pain and that he was screaming and crying for Onee-chan, Otou-san and even Okaa-san. Ayato doesn’t like pain. He’s terrified of it.

But his sister is amazing and powerful. She kept the pain from spreading. Touka said that one of the ghouls had bit him and tried to eat him because he’s chubby and cute and people like that look like they made good meals. He was confused when she said it— why did those ghouls want to eat him when he was a ghoul?— but he didn’t care. His body hurt too much. He continued to cry and sob, until another ghoul showed up— a short, small ghoul that looked like a child herself who claimed to be an adult.

The girl who looked like a child but called herself an adult gave them meat. She helped Touka to tend to Ayato’s wounds. He felt better after a while. Father always said to thank people who helped you. But when he tried to talk, he simply sobbed. Touka thanked her for him, instead. 

But the girl hadn’t smiled at them at all and she didn’t even smile when Touka thanked her. Instead, she told them to run away. She’s an important person of an important group of people in that place and she knows they aren’t safe from her people. Ayato didn’t understand what she was saying, but he thinks she must be a princess or something. Or maybe not, because she doesn’t look like a princess. Her clothes were messy and she wasn’t tall and pretty with blonde hair and huge eyes like the princesses in books Father had read to him. Maybe she’s better than a princess— just like Touka is better than one too.

Touka and Ayato never talked about that time after they left the underground ward. Ayato wonders occasionally what that girl had told Touka to make her decide they should leave. But he’s never really regretted that move. On the surface, he doesn’t run into ghouls that want to eat him. It also smells less like pee and poop up here. He gets to breathe fresh air. He gets to see birds and cats in the alleys they walk through some time. The underground ward had no animals. Ayato likes animals so he thinks this is better.

Remembering that moment now makes Ayato sad, just as it always does. Those ghouls who attacked him only did it because he’s small and weak. He’s nothing like Touka who’s stronger and bigger. Touka’s ten. She’s like an adult. He knows it’s probably because she’s older that she is protecting him. But Father had said that he had to protect her because he’s the boy. Even if he’s only six, he wants to grow up faster. He’s so close to being ten as well-- four years away. He’s almost an adult, isn’t he? So it’s okay. He can still try.

He remembers his promise and he remembers his sister. These things always help him whenever he wants to get them out— his ka… kagu… kagusomething? He can’t remember what it’s called, even though Touka laughs at him whenever he asks her. “How many times do I have to tell you?” She’ll pinch his cheek as she tells him what it is.

He calls them wings because they look like wings. Ayato dislikes the form his takes. Touka has one on her left side and is much larger. His are a small pair that sprouts on both sides. They’re a mix of blue and red but unlike the paints he used to mix back home, they don’t turn purple at all.

His wings glow brightly and Ayato winces as he stares at them through the mirror. The place is dark and right now, he’s the only source of light. He looks at himself and he thinks of angels in books his father read to him. Angels with huge wings that shine and glow even when everything seems so dark. There are also the fairies; he’s probably more like a fairy. His wings are tiny, just like theirs, but they also give out light. Maybe when he gets bigger, they’ll look more like angel wings.

But Ayato doesn’t want angel wings. His wings can never truly be an angel’s. He’s a ghoul. Ghouls are monsters. He’s more like the Devil, but the Devil’s wings don’t shine. What Ayato wants is Touka’s wing. Touka’s wing is the best. It protected him so many times. If Ayato wants to become someone who can protect Touka, he has to become like her first and then, get stronger from there. Yes, that is what he should do. Having a plan makes him feel good, but he’s still at a loss over what he should do.

He’s going to try his very hardest, until he himself can form just one wing on his left shoulder; until he himself can become her. Touka says that when she’s old enough, she’ll get a mask of a rabbit— a white one, just like the rabbit she sees on tvs when they walk past some shops in the streets. Ayato will get one too, he decides. He’ll get a black one; Touka had called him her shadow once— because he always followed behind her wherever she went. Shadows are black, aren’t they?

Touka is fine with him going out if he promises to stay within close distance of their home. Ayato walks out sometime after he feels like he’s going to go crazy from staying in that dark place. When he feels like he can’t keep the tears in anymore, he knows he needs to keep himself busy.

He pulls on his hood when he steps out. It’s night already so he doesn’t have to worry about the sun, but he still feels more comfortable with his hood on. He’s able to keep his face hidden slightly.

Going out is a normal routine but on that day, it’s different. He hears noises and music. It’s loud and he feels himself vibrate from how blaring it is. He shudders, somewhat terrified at the thought of what might be happening, but he’s also curious. Ayato heads towards it but as the sounds get louder, he stops. The smell is starting to hit him— the smell he fears so much, yet the smell he wants more than anything.

He smells humans.

He doesn’t know what to do and as the loud, explosive noises continue, Ayato’s overwhelmed with fear. His knees shake and he falls to the ground. He’s terrified, even though there’s nothing to be scared of. He smells so many humans. They’re noisy, they’re scary. He’s afraid— he’s so afraid.

Onee-chan. Onee-chan.

And then, he smells her as he calls out for her. The familiar aroma of his sister. Ayato’s scrabbling to his feet, scampering away from the humans’ territory and deeper into the alleys and darknesses he had been walking away from. His sister’s scent gets stronger and along with it, his footsteps quicken. Even if he’s barely able to breathe anymore, even when tears are falling out of his eyes, Ayato continues towards her. He’ll be safe there. He doesn’t have to worry. He’ll run into her arms. She’ll probably get worried, but whenever she’s worried, she always holds him tighter when they go to sleep. He’ll be okay. 

But when he reaches her, he stops. He hasn’t seen her yet. He knows she’s right after the bend. All he needs to do is turn. But he doesn’t. The alluring odour hasn’t faded even though he’s alway from that place.

Humans…

And just as he thinks about it, he hears them.

“The fuck? I thought we’re gonna be dealing with some other big guy but it’s just a fucking kid?”

“Kid or not, it’s still one of those monsters.”

Ayato trembles. He sniffs. He smells two men with Touka. Slowly, and with his legs shaking much more than before, he inches closer. He presses his body to the wall and leans out slightly, only to look out from behind the wall. He sees Touka, standing as tall as she can, unflinching and brave-- the men tower over her, but she doesn’t seem frightened at all. He looks at the men and immediately, he’s frozen. Coats. Suitcases. Big tall men.

They are ghoul investigators.

Ayato almost cries out at the realisation, but his voice catches in his throat. He’s sobbing again, shaking as he holds onto the wall. Two big, big man face his sister. Even if she’s strong, can she fight them? Their father had always told them to stay away and beware of men like that. He said even he feared them. If Otou-san can’t do anything about them even though he’s a man, what can Onee-chan do?

“It’s a fucking monster anyway. If we don’t do anything about it now, we might have to deal with it when it’s bigger.” With that, the men lunge at his sister and Ayato runs out without a second thought.

“Onee-chan!”

Touka jumps away from the men and whips her head towards him as he calls out to her. Her eyes widen immediately and he sees fear and a hint of anger.

“Ayato? What are you doing here?”

“Fucking hell? Another one?” 

One of the men swings something at her. It looks like a huge bat, only it’s like a crystal and is bright blue. Touka dodges it easily. Ayato hadn’t even know his sister is that fast and agile. Her kaguwhatever wing appears and in one move, she slices the man in the throat. Blood splatters out, onto her and onto their surroundings. Ayato freezes.

She… killed him…

His sister. His kind, loving, gentle sister. She just killed someone in cold blood.

“Onee-chan—”

“Get out of here Ayato!” she cries out. She turns to him and it seems like she stiffens in shock as well. 

Ayato hadn’t noticed the other man, who’s now standing right by his side, a gun pulled out and aimed at his head. Ayato’s still frozen. He can’t move. He doesn’t really know what’s going on as well.

The only thing he knows is that he can’t do anything. He doesn’t know how to use his wings. He doesn’t know how to fight. He’s weak. He’s dumb. He should have realised this before he ran out. Ayato trembles as he hears the man pull the trigger, closing his eyes and clenching his fists. He should jump out of the way, but his legs aren’t listening to him.

He hears a bang as the gun fires and immediately, his head explodes into a burst of pain. He wants to cry out, but he chokes on his words. Is he dead as well now? Is he going to where his parents are? Otou-san, Okaa-san… I…

He opens his eyes. Touka’s face hovers over his, but it’s only for a short moment, before she’s getting off him and pulling him up. The pain from his head begins to fade into a dull ache. He sees the man still standing with his gun pointed at them, but their positions had changed.

Touka had pushed him away in the last minute. He had fallen and hit his head right as the gun fired. The realisation only makes Ayato more disgusted. Once again, he’s being protected.

“Get out of here Ayato! Go! Now!” Touka screams. Her wing blazes out more than before as she rushes at the man, who dodges and begins firing again.

He shouldn’t leave. He has to fight alongside her. But even as he tells himself that, he’s turning around and sprinting away from the sight, dashing as fast as he can away from his sister, the man she just killed and the man who’s either going to kill her or is going to be killed by her. 

He chokes and splutters, stumbling and falling as he runs away. He’s so confused, so scared. He has to go home. He’s going to go home and wait for her to come back. It’s what he should have done from the very beginning. He runs and he runs, never bothering about the tears running down his face and the snot dribbling down his nose.

But no matter how far he runs, he never gets home. He doesn’t know which way to run anymore. He doesn’t know where he is. He hears the loud noises of the humans, but he’s too afraid to go towards them. What if he sees a parade of men carrying suitcases over there? What would stupid, little weak him do?

Instead, he runs away from it. He’s running away from home. Home is in the opposite direction— towards the humans. He runs and strangely enough, he does find himself back home. But this isn’t the home Touka and him are living in right now; this was their home, once upon a time when they had a proper home.

He had run to their old neighbourhood. He’d been running from humans, but somehow he ended up right in the heart of humans again.

His head spins. He tries to take a moment to breathe and relax. But it’s hard to do so when he remembers what he had just seen. Touka had never killed anyone in front of him before. She looked used to what she was doing. He wonders if the meat they’ve been eating were really from corpses, or had Touka killed them to? Perhaps that’s why sometimes, the meat tastes better than usual. He probably ate some fresh-kill on those days.

But if it tastes better then—

No no. He needs to go. But as he tries to go away, he stops as a particular house comes into sight. Ayato looks around, but he doesn’t see anyone in sight. It should be fine, shouldn’t it? Just five minutes.

He walks quietly towards the house and he looks at the nameplate hanging outside. He can’t read it. He’s never seen that kanji before. But he knows for sure it’s not “Kirishima”. A bitter taste rises in his mouth. Someone else lives here now. Someone else is having a meal with their father— and maybe their mother— in there. Someone else is happy. Someone else is warm. Someone else is safe.

And Ayato realises he hates that someone else, even though he’s never hated anyone before.

Are they human? Are they another ghoul pretending to be human? What kind of nice life are they living right now? How dare they live happily while he’s stuck outside? Ayato has been upset before, but he’s never been angry. Or if he did, he’s never felt anger like this before. It doesn’t matter if the sun is no longer there or if it’s night. He’s burning. Someone is living the life he should be living. Someone is feeling the happiness he should be feeling. Someone has their family with them when he should have his family with him.

You fuc—

“Hey, you! Who’s there?”

He recognises that voice. He’ll know that dreadful voice even if he’s been to the deepest depths of hell and back up. No demon can ever hope to sound as disgusting.

She’s shining a flashlight at him and he raises his hand to shield his face from the glare. He needs to do something quickly. But the pathway is so narrow that it’s impossible to run past her to get away. She comes up to him and turns her light away from his face. She smells gross, yet she smells good at the same time.

He realises he hasn’t eaten in a while as well. Touka is supposed to be bringing back food today.

“Oh a kid?” Satou murmurs. Ayato lets his hand drop to his sides and he looks up to her. Touka had looked up at the men from before even though they can kill her. This old woman doesn’t have a suitcase. She can’t kill him. It had never stopped her from trying to get him killed before, but she doesn’t have investigators with her now. He stares at her, face revealed, preparing himself for her to run screaming for help. Once she runs, he’ll run too. If he goes home, Touka will be there by now. She can get rid off anyone who comes after him.

Protected, once again. He forces himself not to think, bracing himself completely instead.

However, Satou smiles. “What is a young kid like you doing out here? Are you lost?”

She doesn’t remember. She doesn’t recognise him. Should he really be surprised? Would he remember monsters? He doesn’t remember the ghouls who bit him in the underground ward. But he remembers Satou and he remembers what she did— but if that’s the case, does that mean Satou is not a monster even when she tried to get him and his sister killed?

Are ghouls really the only monsters?

“Come inside, it’s getting cold,” she says. She takes his hand, gently like she used to back when times were happier, and pulls him along as she goes. Satou is a nice woman but he supposes it’s only to humans. Maybe she thinks humans deserve kindness but not ghouls, which is why she was mean to them when she found out the truth.

But why?

She brings him to the house he knows almost as well as his previous one. The place still looks the same outside, but inside, it seems like things have changed. Satou has tables now, with chairs. Her walls have changed colours. They’re bright orange. It’s disgusting. He likes the blue it used to be better. Ayato likes the colour blue.

“Are you hungry? I have some food leftover from dinner,” she says. Ayato shakes his head.

“Do you need a change of clothes or something? My grandson’s clothes might fit you.” Ayato shakes his head at her words again.

“Where are your parents? Do you want to call them? I can lend you my phone,” she offers. Her eyes stare at him in worry and concern.

It sickens him how fake those concern seem. It makes him want to throw up. He stares back at her, wondering what will happen if he tells her, “My name is Kirishima Ayato, the ghoul who used to live next door.”

He doesn’t. Instead he replies her question. “Parents… Don’t have any.” They’re dead… probably because of people like you.

“O-oh… Do you have a home to go back to?” she asks and he nods. Satou picks up her phone. “What’s your number?”

“We don’t have a phone.”

She frowns, places her phone down and walks over to him, placing her hands on both his shoulders. “It’s fine. You can stay here for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll get you home in the morning, okay?”

She’s so nice to him but it only makes him disgusted. Ayato wants to be comforted by her, but it doesn’t feel sincere to him at all.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

Again, it hits him. She doesn’t recognise him. He’s not someone for her to remember. Even though she’s the very reason he has to suffer. She’s the reason he’s here while someone else is in his house.

“My… name…?” 

Ayato is tired. He wants to go home and sleep. Touka must be looking for him. He has to go back to her. She’ll scold him for worrying, but she’ll hug him tightly when they go to sleep after that. Touka’s hugs are nice and warm. He loves them more than anyone else’s/ 

“Yes, your name. Do you have one?”

“You… know my name…” he murmurs. It slips out before he realises it.

“Oh? Have we met before? I’m sorry, Oba-chan over here is getting old. She can’t remember too many things.”

That’s right. They had called her that at one point in time as well. No, they called her that right till the very end.

“Why don’t you tell me? Come on, jog my memory a bit.”

She’s so nice to him now. She’s laughing and smiling. He knows that the moment she finds out the truth, it’ll be different. She won’t be gentle and kind anymore— she’ll become cruel again. Just like how she stuffed the food in his mouth when they didn’t want to eat. Just like how she called the investigators.

He wonders— is it really that someone in his house that he should be hating right now? That someone did nothing to him. He shouldn’t hate someone who did nothing wrong. But Satou made him cry. Satou made his sister cry.

“We… used to live over there… next door… Otou-san, Onee-chan and I…” He drones like a robot. Touka always laughed at him whenever his tone sounds like this. She said it sounds stupid and it makes people think he’s too bored. She said she’s heard villains in movies talk like that when they can’t be bothered about the bad things they do and how they hurt people. Ayato stopped talking like that whenever she pointed that out. He never wanted to be a villain— he wanted to be a good guy, like Father was. A person who was always smiling and cheerful is a person that people always loves; he wanted to be like that.

But the smiling and cheerful father of his is not a hero. Heroes always come back. Father didn’t, probably because the villain defeated him. Maybe heroes are not always smiling and laughing. Maybe villains are not always droning and bored— the men fighting Touka wasn’t and Satou isn’t as well. If he talks like that, is he a villain? 

Satou’s eyes had gone wide, her body going stiff. She snatches her hands away from him, taking a few steps away from him. Her jaws tremble and Ayato sees the movement in her throat as she swallows. The throat… When his father used to read books of lions in the wild to him, he told him that lions always go for their prey’s throats.

“Y-you… You… That monster…”

I have a name… He knows Satou knows it and he knows she knows his name. But she makes no effort to call him, murmuring ‘ghoul’ and ‘monster’ under her breath. Ayato wants to cry. He feels less than she is whenever she calls him those things. Touka and his Father had told him before— he’s not a monster, he’s just different. Ayato you’re a sweet boy so you’re definitely not a monster. But what did they think of themselves, he wonders. Did Touka think of herself as a monster when she killed the man just now?

Satou continues to whisper curses as she continues to back away. She seems too frightened to call for help. Ayato’s frighten as well. But he’s not cursing her to die. He’s not calling her mean and hateful things. The more she speaks, the more he wants to breakdown. But he doesn’t, only because there’s something stronger brewing in him. He hates Satou Oba-chan. He hates her and the race she represents. 

I want to be like Onee-chan…

He lunges at her, knocking her off her feet much easier than he had thought it’ll be. He goes for her throat, just like lions do and just like Touka had done. His teeth clamp down hard on the thick flesh and he’s ripping it in a matter of seconds, drowning in the taste of her blood flowing into his mouth and down his throat. She tries to scream but nothing comes out but gargles. She’s looking at him with horrified eyes as he lifts himself up, staring down at her. She struggles to speak and among the distorted words that she throws out, he makes something out.

Ayato-kun.

His name falling out of her mouth disgusts him more than he should and he’s leaning forward again, tearing her apart, stripping her bare till he sees the tainted whiteness of bones. He chews and swallows, stomaching as much as he can. He didn’t think he was that hungry and he never knew he had this big an appetite. It’s too delicious. He can’t resist the taste. He’s getting the freshest of fresh-kills, the purest kind of blood and meat. He realises he’s laughing, crying out in delight at how he’s enjoying the taste. Satou is bigger than an average human but he eats and he eats, until most of the edible meat is gone and all that’s left are the bitter fats and innards that Touka will usually throw away, or eat herself when there’s not enough food and she’s given him most of the rest.

He stares at the dead body, or what used to be a dead body. He had always thought that the first time he killed, he’d fall to a sobbing and wailing mess, begging for apology from someone above. But he’s calm. He’s so calm that his reaction to Touka’s murder just now seems like him falling into insanity. He killed Satou. He killed the woman who tried to kill them.

He feels… good… He’s never felt better about himself. Killing her made him feel strong and powerful. It made her look weak and pathetic. He snorts at her, looking down at the mangled body victoriously. 

He made his first kill. He finally killed someone. It feels like something has changed in him, like he’s taken a step into a different world. He feels like a whole new person right now. He looks down at himself. He’s soaked in her blood, from head to toe. His white pants and t-shirt are completely stained in red.

It probably is better to wear darker colours the next time he does this. He should get more black clothes…

Next time? Is there going to be a next time?

He stares at Satou’s body again and recalls how little effort it had taken for him to kill her. Now that he thinks about it, hadn’t Touka killed the man really easily as well? Humans are weaker than he thought, apparently. They’re small fries, nothing too big. The thought sends a wave of realisation washing over him— if all humans are like this, what is there for him to fear?

Father had lost to them. He’d always assume it was Father’s stupid decision to live with humans that stole him away from them, that maybe he was betrayed by another Satou somewhere else. Ayato realises he’s wrong. Father lost to them because he was too weak to win. He was weaker than Touka was the day investigators came to their house. That’s why Touka and Ayato lived. That’s why Father did not come back. He was weak, so weak that Ayato’s embarrassed and disgusted.

Otou-san, aren’t you a ghoul? Ayato gets up and walks away from Satou’s body with the thought burning in his mind. Father died because he’s weak. Even though he says that Ayato should protect Touka as the boy, he couldn’t protect them. What kind of a man is he? Father never kept his promise. If that’s the case, why should Ayato?

He’s going to protect Touka— not because Father told him to, but because she’s Touka and he loves her. Touka will never become weak. She’ll always be strong. He’s sure of that. If she ends up like Father, then she’ll be dead to him. But Ayato doesn’t have to worry about that, does he? Father never killed humans, but Touka does. Touka is more like Ayato.

Ayato tells himself he’ll get stronger. He’ll catch up to Touka and meet up to her strength and then, they’ll get stronger— together. Ayato beams widely— a smile after a long time. He likes the thought of this. He’ll get to go through the feeling again, feel that rush of killing again, but with Touka beside him and with Touka feeling it as well. He feels like an animal— like the lion from the book— but it’s fine. Ghouls are monsters, aren’t they? Monsters are more like animals than humans.

Onee-chan, let’s become unbeatable.

He somehow managed to find his way back. It’s still nighttime, though he has no idea what time it was exactly. He’s about to open the door to his home when it’s thrown open. He’s greeted by his sister’s frantic face.

“Ayato where were— What happened to you?” She jumps back at the sight of him, shrieking in horror. He doesn’t get a chance to reply before she’s pulling him in and stripping him off his clothes. “Are you hurt anywhere? There’s so much blood… Did you get into a fight? Shit, what happened? Are you okay?”

The blood had seeped through his clothes and had coloured his pale skin a bright crimson. Touka runs her hands over his body, desperately searching for any wounds or injuries.

“It’s fine… Onee-chan. I’m not hurt. I found some meat and I was hungry and I ate it. The blood was flying everywhere,” he explains. He doesn’t know why he lied to her. But he feels that he’s not ready to tell her the truth yet. Touka has been desperately hiding her own killings from him as well. Maybe she thinks he’s too young. He wants her to know he’s not, but he’s worried that she might get angry. Touka looks scared now. He doesn’t want to make things worse.

“Come on.” She takes his hand and pulls him to the back of their home. There’s a tap there where water still flows even though no one comes here anymore. The water isn’t clean, but it isn’t dirty either. It’s good for cleaning their bodies. It’s where they bathe. There’s also some kind of drainage it leads to so it’s convenient for them. Ayato wishes they had a proper shower, but they’re lucky they have a place to clean. 

She leaves him to wash himself as she rummages through their things. Ayato scrubs the blood off himself. He doesn’t really care if it stains him, but the scent might attract other ghouls. This is why Touka is making him clean. She can fight humans, but maybe she isn’t strong enough for other grown up ghouls. Ayato realises that they have to get stronger against ghouls as well, not just humans.

If they want to survive, they have to be at the very top.

“You can use this blanket,” Touka tells him when he’s done, throwing him a greyish piece of cloth. Ayato immediately wraps himself up, huddling under it as he tries to keep warm. Touka puts his clothes into a plastic bag and ties it tightly. “I’m going to get rid of this. I’ll be back soon. I’ll get you some clothes tomorrow. Make do with this for now”

He nods at her and she goes to leave. Touka pauses at the door, looking back at him with a glare. “Stay here,” she commands. He shivers slightly at her tone but nods again. She hesitates for a while, but she walks out nonetheless, closing the door securely behind her.

Touka looked worried when he came back. She must have been out looking for him and it looked like she was about to leave again when he came back. She must have been terrified seeing him covered in blood. He realises the last time they saw each other, she had saved him from being killed. It makes sense she felt scared and worried. She always wants to protect him. He’ll be sure to hug her and apologise to her when she’s back. For now, he decides to get some rest. It’s been a long day. 

He settles down against a wall and closes his eyes.

When he opens his eyes, he’s no longer sitting. He’s lying on a mattress. Touka is beside him, crawling onto it as well. She lies down beside him and pulls him closer to her.

“Did I wake you up? I tried to be careful when carrying you…” she murmurs. She nestles her face into his hair and hugs him tight. “I was so worried.”

“I know…” he murmurs. Ah… That tone…

“I thought you were going to die… He had that gun to you head. Are you an idiot? You didn’t even move…” she continues, almost sobbing and almost lecturing him. “Why were you there? Where did you go afterwards? I tried so hard to find you. I was scared some of their backup might have taken you.”

She didn’t laugh at him for using that tone…

“I’m sorry… Onee-chan… I was scared…” he says. “But you know, Onee-chan… I’m not scared anymore…”

Humans are weak. There’s nothing to be scared of.

“Is that so?” she sighs. He nods against her and she snorts. “I think I will always be scared.”

“You’re so strong…”

“I’m not… strong enough yet,” she admits. “I’m scared I’m too weak to protect you. I’m scared I lose you, Ayato.”

“You won’t.”

“I might…” she chokes out. “I… didn’t want you to know about the kind of monster I’ve become… I’ve been trying to get stronger and… I’ve killed a lot of people. It makes me so sick and I hate myself for doing it. It’s disgusting. But you get used to it after a while I think. The first time is the worst. It makes you want to throw up. I cried for hours after I did it. It made me hate myself.”

He’s silent as she speaks, not really understanding what she’s trying to say. He didn’t feel any of that. It made him happy. It made him feel good. He liked it. But Touka hates it.

“Why does it feel like that for you?” Why doesn’t it feel like that for me?

“It… just does…” she replies. He feels her shrug a little against him. “You’ll know when you do it. It’s the worst feeling ever.”

But it wasn’t the worst feeling ever— it was one of the best.

“Well… I hope you’ll never have to do it…” she murmurs.

He can’t tell her about all that happend, not right now, not after she’s said such things. But he’s made his decisions and he’s not backing down from that.

“I want… to be by Onee-chan’s side… I want to be stronger…” he admits. “Onee-chan, won’t you teach me?”

He hears her gulp and her body stiffens in his arms. “I don’t want you to…” she whispers.

“It’s safer…” he murmurs. “Even if I stay here… what if a scary person comes when you’re away?”

It was a fear that he always felt whenever she left. Most of the time he cowered in the back of the place. There’s some junk and boxes around and he’s small enough to hide behind them. He bolted to that spot whenever he hears something. But it’s always nothing. The only one who ends up coming is Touka. One day, it might be something else though. 

“Onee-chan, I can take out my ka… uhh… kagu… kagu… uhh…” He still can’t remember what it’s called.

“Kagune?”

“Yeah! I can take my kagune out already. It looks different from yours but I want to use them just like you do.”

This time, he promises to remember it. 

“Fine,” she grumbles. “I guess I could teach you.”

He hasn’t felt that excited before. Touka murmurs something about going to sleep and she closes her eyes tightly. He’s a little too happy to sleep, imagining himself being taught by Touka to fight and then going out with her and fighting alongside her. He’s going to become a strong ghoul that can stand by her side. They can go out together and fight more suitcase men, maybe wear masks just like other awesome ghouls he had heard about before did. He remembers the fantasy of the white and black rabbit masks. It might be nice if that happens.

Touka falls asleep very easily. He can hear her heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, just like her breathing does. It’s a calming sound. He likes to listen to it. It makes him feel light and bubbly. He presses himself close to her, letting sleep overcome him as well. The last thing he’s really aware of is the smell surrounding him— the faint tinge of blood hanging on both her and him.

They smell like the monsters they are, he concludes.

A/N: This was so hard to write but so fun. I hope you guys enjoyed it! I need to go to sleep now so that’s goodbye. But I’m hoping to hear your thoughts tomorrow. :D It really was so hard to try and keep that young kiddish innocence through the end. I hope it works out. 

Also, random but I hope everyone noticed the mini Miza cameo. I also spent so long trying to come up with the title and I remember I used the imagery of being born with his bloodstains so I ended up naming the fic this. This is the birth of TG!Ayato. The very beginning of his downfall. :’) 

Once again, please please do reblog if you like this! It’ll really help me out. Feel free to leave comments in the tags/ reblogs/ replies or through asks!

[kirishimahinami]

love is bitter

summary: no matter what, the ending will be the same. everyone always disappear. hinami reflecting on her experiences from age 13 to 17. word count: 2187 pairing: hinted ayahina notes: hinami centric fic. loosely based on girl’s generation - love is bitter . only hinted ayahina this time, but she interacts with ayato for the most part in this fic. includes a lot characters so i’m only tagging hina. its a bit depressing until its end, lol. this is my last fic until i can return to writing on my computer next month. love you all.

Hinami had figured it long ago, that she shouldn’t trust life to be kind. Reflecting on her past was never her favorite pastime, but she now has subordinates and partners with her, people who are key to successful missions, and she could not bear losing them, whether if she only knew them as a fellow Aogiri Tree member or if they already managed to become somewhat friends of hers.

The first death she had seen as a commander was by far the worst. One of the older women she had supervised got into an ambush by herself while Hinami was making sure everything was going well on another bunch of troops. That particular woman was one of the more respectful of the bunch, and while she worked for Aogiri Tree, she was soft spoken and treated Hinami well, not holding grudges over the fact she was younger yet the commander.

That woman reminded Hinami of her mother. She had dark brown hair and used to wear long skirts, her hands were calloused but would still pat Hinami’s head when they were out of the higher ups sight. It was even more so fitting that she died while the rain poured on her, the hot air of the summer washing away and leaving Hinami out in the cold. The three first days after the death were the worst. Eto’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of her weak state.

If she looks back on it, she remembers feeling starved. She didn’t eat for almost a week and a half after the woman passed. She wonders if back then her refusal to eat was really out of grief, or if she was just actually looking for excuses to be weak. Even at that point, she just wanted to leave Aogiri, go back to the people she knew. She even remembers considering leaving.

Her older brother, as far as she knew, was not an option anymore. As much as it pained her to admit. But maybe, maybe if she could track flowerman. He had always been kind to her, even if everyone else were iffy about him.  And if she could find Banjou, he’s sure to not turn her away… or maybe even older sis-

She felt bad for even thinking about her, as she watched Ayato entering the room, a package in his hand and solemn look worn on his face. She only knew him only for a short while, but every clue pointed to the fact he wanted to see Touka much more than she ever will.

“Your squad have been whispering about you not eating.” He said as he sat down on the floor, the same way she had been sitting for the last three hours. He threw the package at her lightly and it fell right next to her feet. Her reddish eyes spared a glance at it, but when she could only think about Chiyo’s dead body in the rain. She hugged her legs then, head buried in her ankles.

She was sure Ayato frowned, even if she didn’t look. She could also hear the quiet groan that came out of his mouth. “Look, you spoilt shitty kid. It’s a suicide victim, just like you like. From the same damn place your happy go lucky café liked to get them, too. You either eat this now and live on, or keep starving and get to talk with Tatara. And I’m pretty sure that woman would have not wanted you to handle Tatara because of her, either.” He said, stood up and left the room.

Hinami didn’t move until she couldn’t hear his steps anymore. She reached for the meat with one shaking hand, bringing it near her face. He was right. It would be unfair to others, for her to leave, or kill herself like this.

Life is bitter, she thought as she bit into her food, and a few tears fell from her eyes. But she will get stronger, and at the very least will do her best to make sure that others would not have to feel like she does.

-

The ending is always the same, in this world, just as it was in Eto’s books. Happiness always seemed to be a passing theme, no matter who the story focused on. Eto even used to joke of making another short stories book, all inspired by different Aogiri members. Most of said members in the room stiffened until she waved her hand, reminding them she’s not that stupid. “That’s just handing out the CCG clues, isn’t it?”

It was true, Eto would never give away those kind of handouts to the CCG willingly, but the meeting remained tense until the end anyway. They all always tried to forget and move on, it was what ghouls were best at, but pushing the weak spots never made anyone feel better.

She was making coffee at the moment, under Ayato’s request. He never asked her directly but if he had she had no doubt he very much needed it. She didn’t mind it if she was to be honest – it was already a routine to make him and other Aogiri members coffee, and while he was not the type to radiate warmness to others, his presence was soothing to her.

Hinami always grew attached to easily, but regrets were not a part of the process when their friendship grew. To some level, he understood her. They were both just kids without a family, even if he was already adjusted to the loneliness. She could only hope that she won’t lose him later on.

Steam became visible as she heard the kettle boiling, and she rushed towards it. She quickly poured them as she remembered the workers in Anteiku had. The heat burnt her slightly, but she didn’t care for it. The scent of the coffee always visibly relaxed Ayato, and she did not want the smell to dissipate since the coffee had cooled.  

When it was ready, she handed him the coffee carefully. Ayato wasn’t really looking, or at least she didn’t think so, considering his bangs were covering his eyes, but he grabbed the cup, his fingers brushing hers that held the handle. She let go, and within second the cup was right in front of his mouth.

He chugged the coffee down quickly, four sips and it was gone. He sighed.

“…Would you like some more?” Hinami asked. He did many things for her during the last two years, it’s the least she can do, she thought to herself.

He stared into the now empty cup and shook his head. “It’s enough. Thanks.” He answered and ran a hand through his hair, and Hinami could finally see all of his face clearly.

His eyes were tired and wistful.

Love is always bitter, she thought to herself. He missed his sister just like she had and it was clear on his face. Even if the wounds have healed, and they’ve already moved on, the heavy feeling of longing stays lingering.

Even days later, Hinami kept wondering if their ending would be the same.

-

Hinami doesn’t know how much time has passed since she entered Cochlea.

All that she does know is that very soon there will be a disposal and she’s a part of. Time has passed by and the longer Hinami had stayed in the prison, she became less and less relevant to the CCG. She hadn’t seen her big brother in a long while, even though she asked to, and finally had come to terms with the fact that she will die soon.

Her hands rose to her neck. She didn’t know how they would kill her, but she remembers a scene from Eto’s books where a person get their head cut off. She tries not to think about it, but her throat is dry from lack of food and feels as if the area is wounded anyway. The image of a stitched neck comes to mind, the thread slowly unraveling. Fully unraveled, a head rolls around across her cell. Is that mom?

She wonders if she went insane from being alone so long. She can still discern reality and dreams, something many people in Cochlea apparently can’t, if the shouts she hears from others cells are any indicator. But she’s having a hallucinations, hallucinations she does not want to see.

She is reminded of Anteiku, where she had an official eating day set for her. Her imagination willed it that she sees the food right in front of her, her mother and Touka at her sides and Kaneki, still wearing his medical eyepatch with his back to her, still slightly uncomfortable with the idea of humans as food, but urging her it’s okay and she has to eat.

Another day she saw the television they had at the base after Kaneki’s hair turned white. Tsukiyama is putting and sunflower in his hair, blowing a kiss to the air after saying something does not understand. She can see he’s happy, though. She could see Banjou watching a horror film, very much uncomfortable, asking her if she could switch the channel.

Today, she saw Ayato at the Aogiri base, the one with the flowers. He was forcing her to eat again. She never liked eating days in Aogiri. They always meant there are combat missions in the near future. ‘Come on, I don’t want you to disappear. Just eat already.’ She could hear Naki and Miza calling them in for a meeting, and even though she knew nothing was actually in front of her, she ate quickly as the hallucination told her.

Tears once again welled up in her eyes. I’m sorry. Even though I’m eating, I’m going to disappear anyway.

The bitterness she felt in her mouth then was worse than any human food she had ever had the fortune to eat.

-

She couldn’t comprehend what was going on when she saw the door to her cell opening. There were many ghouls up to disposal in her level, so it wouldn’t make any sense to go straight to her room. She wasn’t even the most dangerous one on her level – in fact, most doves she knew agreed she was the most peaceful and cooperative.

She had not counted on her big brother to suddenly appear.

“Hinami chan.”

“…Onii chan?”

“I’m so sorry I’m late. Let’s get out of here.”

She stood up, slightly unbalanced, but slapped him on the face right on.

“Why?... Why did you come? You’re an investigator, aren’t you?” This will only get him into trouble. Even if she’s happy he came here for her, what is it worth if he’s going to disappear again?

“This is my last job.”

It’s always the same.

-

Minutes pass, and Hinami is sitting next to a wall, clutching her legs. Kaneki disappeared to go fight, and she doesn’t know if he’ll return. He said to continue forward, but Hinami doesn’t want to leave him behind.

She hears footsteps. Out of the corner of her already red, glassy eye she sees three people approaching. The one in the front stands out immediately. Ayato.

“Hinami..” he starts.

“Ayato…” She’s still a bit shocked.

“I’m sorry I took so long. Let’s go home.” He finishes. His hand patting her shoulder gently. She almost wants to lean in, but she’s reminded of the other two people in the hall.

She’s was already overwhelmed when she saw Ayato, but then she looks up and sees Yomo and Touka.

“Mr. Yomo…” She inched closer as she said the name, and Touka who stood still so far, came closer as well. “S-sis….” She said, and Touka pinched her cheeks.

“Silly Hinami.” Is the only thing she says, but that alone is more than enough to make Hinami feel as if her home returned to her.

“I’m sorry, s-sis…” she answers.

…But what if it isn’t?

-

Even Banjou came to save her, she realizes as she runs right into his bear hug.

“Hina! I’m so glad you’re okay… Really, thank heavens….”

…Is everything really so bitter?

-

A month later, Hinami has found the answer to her question.

With the formation of Goat almost everyone she had knew from Anteiku have returned to her life. Ayato, Miza, Naki and many other people who are associated to Aogiri Tree have joined as well. There are a few people she doesn’t really know, and one in particular she doesn’t really know how to feel about, but they were important to Kaneki, so she knew she would just have to put her trust in him. He didn’t give her a reason not to.

Now, she was surrounded by the people she cared for. It was a blessing she could never dream of while she was in Aogiri. She sighed happily as she laid on her bed. Her home has returned to her and she will do everything she can in order to keep it this time. For herself, for Ayato, and for everyone else.

The ending doesn’t have to be bitter. The ending is what you make of it.

[elsenthal]

It's the end of the world as we know it.

They weren't on the best terms, but they had to watch this together.

Theodore and Aliénor. The brother and the sister. The English intelligence and the French spy. They had been at war against each other for so long that their meeting was awkward at first.

“So... The end of the world uh?” said Theodore with a shy cold smile on his lips.

“Yup. Seems it's finally here. You did know they'd do it some day.” replied Aliénor with a concerned look.

“I'd never imagined they use atomic bombs. I thought the 20th century taught them better.”

“Mortals.” She shrugged. “They live longer than before, but they also live faster and never stop in order to learn from their mistakes.”

Silence fell upon them for a few minutes.

“Do you think it'll work?”

She asked it with so much hope in her voice that Theodore didn't even try to answer. He wasn't certain at all and knew how important it was for her. He couldn't break her dreams. They'd find out soon enough anyway.

They waited for a while, on a hill above Boston. They could see the entire city from there. It was busy, another normal day in the Commonwealth.

“There”. They stood up, and the bomb fell far in the South-West.

He took her hand in his, and held it tight. She felt the radiations going through her body, the blaze shrouding her and eating her skin. Eyes closed, she grinned at the thought it was finally over.

The relief was short. Her skin and muscles began healing in a blink to her big disappointment. She glanced at him, confused. He was having the exact same look on his face. It was like looking in a twisted mirror, except for his short curly hair and broad jaw.

It didn't work. The most devastating weapon on Earth and they were alive. As usual.

In a nod, they sat, hugged each other and stayed on the top of the hill, watching the old world burn. They stayed there for days, not knowing what they were still waiting for.

After three days, the hunger became too insistent. They planned to see each other every turn of a century, just to keep in touch, even if they knew it would end up in a fight. They took leave of each other, promising to keep in touch. She stayed a while in the Commonwealth, while he left to the West Coast.

They actually did see each other the first time without skinning each other alive. They drank, exchanged news about the world, regretting the old world and criticizing the new one. Not in that order. It was a good time, but they couldn't stay in the same area for a long time. Their researches and points of view diverged way too much for a cohabitation to be healthy.

He wanted to share what he called a gift with others, while all she could think was that the gods cursed them and that she had to get cured.

He wasn't a man to move back when a few lives had to be sacrificed, while she did her best to avoid casualties. She remembered the endless wars between England and France a bit too well. It was still waking her up at night.

(and I feel fine)

Aliénor spent a fair amount years wandering the Commonwealth and then left to explore what was left of the East coast. She avoided people at first, unsure of how they'd react. Years after that day, she met her first ghoul. Aliénor was back in the Commonwealth after almost a decade pacing up and down her territory when she met a lovely lady with what seemed a poor skin condition. She didn't mind, as she'd met people with leprosy and smallpox before. They were usually kind. It appeared to her way later that it wasn't some common disease. She learned about the deterioration of the body and about ferals. She learned to trust the lady and became friend with her, to her own amazement. Her name was Daisy, and she was the first mortal to be let in Aliénor's secret. She quickly became one of her best pals and, if Aliénor kept exploring the new world that was theirs, she stopped way more often in the Commonwealth to take news from Daisy.

The more time passed, the more interesting beings she met. A fair share of ghouls, of course, but also several synths when they became a real thing. She tightened her bonds with the Cabot family she already knew. But her favorites were always ghouls. Some of them remained sick vicious beings like they were before, but some of them were just normal people with a very long lifespan. They kept dying of violent deaths, of course, but her situation was far better than before the war. She could finally make a few friends that weren't about to die in the blink of an eye. She still felt quite lonely, but way less than the last centuries. The war had been a true blessing to her, despite the unfortunate loss of so many poor souls.

When Goodneighbor was founded and Daisy moved there, she made the town her favorite crash place. She liked how Hancock made the place a shelter for the outcasts, but never even try to meet the man before he went ghoul. Just as the other mortals, he was too prone to die early, and she had made a rule to limit her interactions with normal people as much as possible. After his change, she stayed a while at the Rexford and helped Daisy a bit with her shop. It allowed her to meet the man and befriend him. When he noticed that she wouldn't age, she told him an half-truth about it. She still wasn't sure she could completely trust him, but they got along pretty well and she thought he deserved at least to know a part of it. That night, they had a party with so much alcohol and drugs that Aliénor got completely wasted for the first time in 300 years. Both of them are pretty sure they had sex with each other, but they never asked the other and never talked about it. Despite Hancock being a womanizer at the time, he wasn't that much attracted to Aliénor, and she had made the decision years before to only have affairs with totally random strangers she would never meet again, to avoid heartbreaks. Both of them are happy with the situation, and Aliénor makes the mayor's office her second stop in town to give him stuff she grabbed during her trips, like a few books, funny looking knives, and all the Mentats boxes she can put a hand on.

(Time I had some time alone)

Around the year 2284, Aliénor felt the urge to go South. Jack Cabot had told her about some ancient city in what was left of the Amazonian forest. He needed someone to go there and take notes about it, as it could have been an ancient alien meeting point with humans. The opportunity was perfect and after she warned her usual friends she would be away for a while, she left for 3 years. She took advantage of that time to think about pretty much everything – what she would do when back in the Commonwealth, humans, the state of the planet, how was Greece at this time of the year,... She filled up entire notebooks with her thoughts, but couldn't make a single concrete decision. She burnt every single sheet of paper but the ones for Jack and went back home.

She was having her first drink at the Third Rail when she met a vault dweller and his traveling companion.

Basically, that’s how Aliénor’s story began. I couldn’t care less about the main story line, thus I made her like a companion.

She probably randomly give alcohol to the Sole Survivor (because she totally have a secret stash somewhere) and her max affinity perk is totally a “fight like a girl” one, where she increases chances to cripple the target while fighting close-handed (”How can you make him talk if he’s dead? C’mon, hit him below the belt.”).

She got along very well with Cait and they’re sparring partners if sent in the same settlement. She totally has long chats in French with Curie, despite using older words that the poor Curie doesn’t fully understand.

She even has that bug where she may disappear from the settlement but is always found in Goodneighbor.

[garden-ghoul]

appendix blog part last

“listen to ghoul get angry about linguistic diversity”

So the next appendix is E: WRITING AND SPELLING, and idk how much I am going to care about this. I kept accidentally reading the part saying that ‘Bolger’ has a soft G in it, so my instinct is to not read any of this. I NEVER use J sounds if I can help it, even going so far as to mispronounce proper names by reading it as either Y or H. Therefore, I’m not reading this section. But I really do appreciate the subheading ‘S T R E S S’

A sort of interesting thing about Tengwar is that it’s supposed to be not so much an alphabet as a set of signs you can map to whatever sounds you are feeling. They wanted it to be really widely applicable, although it seems like this would be really confusing if the language just, didn’t work at all like Quenya. Also there are 24 letters  arranged as a matrix of 4 series vs 6 grades. Series are where the sound is (labial, dental, et c) and grades are what you are doing (aspirating, stopping, et c). Extremely tidy, just as I would expect of a language system made by Feanaro Finwion. However, also as you would expect of, well, Quendi in general, every single letter has a dumb fanciful name that probably has some deep metaphorical significance.

Can I just say, it’s frankly astonishing that you all wanted to read me blogging about this.

APPENDIX F: LANGUAGES AND PEOPLES

Westron has become the native language of nearly everyone who lives in Arnor/Gondor. Okay, why though? Is it just because Numenoreans Were Here First? They weren’t, there were even plenty of Edain during the second age. Numenoreans just declared themselves rulers and everyone was like “yeah you have good technology and seem to be pretty good at murders” I guess. I dunno it just seems like Tolkien is sacrificing linguistic diversity for convenience within the story and his own weird elitism.

...No, wait a minute, it might be because the total population of Gondorians and former Arnorians is just way bigger than every other population. Not the Rohirrim, who still do have their own native language, but I get the sense that everyone in the north used to be subjects of Arnor and had to learn Westron. Even elves learned it, possibly because Numenoreans were the only humans they cared enough about to talk to. Now it’s a trade language.

The Elves far back in the Elder Days became divided into two main branches: the West-elves (Eldar) and the East-elves. Of the latter kind were most of the elven-folk of Mirkwood and Lórien; but their languages do not appear in this history, in which all the Elvish names and words are of Eldarin form.

Fuck you. No um I’m sure he just had too many languages on his plate already. But!! I hate this weird thing where languages Tolkien personally thinks are superior end up dominating populations, even when it doesn’t make much sense for them to do so! Same thing with Dunedain deciding Sindarin is better than their native language because they are gay for the abstract concept of elves. Nobody does that!! Tolkien paints it as tragic that Gondorians lose Sindarin as a native language! He does not value linguistic diversity for its own sake what kind of linguist is he!!!

Hobbits historically have had the tendency to adopt whatever language the humans nearby are speaking, which is curious given their reputation for being extremely hard for humans to find. Why would they need to use human languages  if they are hiding from humans? I think there ought to be hobbit languages is all. Anyway apparently the last language they used before coming to Arnor was Rohirrin(?)-adjacent; their name, hobbit, comes from the same root as holbytla, hole-builder. Cute!

Says here the ents are so long-winded even Eldar didn’t bother to try to write anything in entish or learn it. Ents talked freely, secure in the knowledge that Eru’s children just didn’t have the patience to snoop. Whereas ents love learning other languages, so they get to snoop on everyone.

The strange words and names that the Hobbits record as used by Treebeard and other Ents are thus Elvish, or fragments of Elf-speech strung together in Ent-fashion. Some are Quenya: as Taurelilómëa-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaerëa Lómëanor, which may be rendered 'Forestmanyshadowed-deepvalleyblack Deepvalleyforested Gloomyland', and by which Treebeard meant, more or less: 'there is a black shadow in the deep dales of the forest'.

This is a fascinating insight into entish grammar. I love the idea of a language whose grammar is “mash some concepts together to create a Feeling about what you are trying to say.” That’s very me. That is how I talk sometimes when I am not very verbal.

The word uruk of the Black Speech was applied as a rule only to the great soldier-orcs that at this time issued from Mordor and Isengard. The lesser kinds were called, especially by the Uruk-hai, snaga 'slave'.

Oh shit I thought Snaga was his name. I feel terrible for him now. Or, like, it was his name and it was the worst name ever.

Next is a note on translation. The best part of the whole appendices is the bit where it says Pippin was addressing Denethor as “thee” the whole time so everyone thought he had a rank equal to the Steward. This is especially silly because presumably he noticed that humans use formal pronouns but just didn’t bother to try to fit in--this implies that he didn’t understand the significance of “you” and just thought it was more or less a direct synonym. I wish Tolkien had written the hobbits using “thou” in the book, although it wouldn’t have had the same connotations to modern audiences I suppose.

The more learned and able among the Hobbits had some knowledge of 'book-language', as it was termed in the Shire; and they were quick to note and adopt the style of those whom they met. It was in any case natural for much-travelled folk to speak more or less after the manner of those among whom they found themselves...

Oho! It’s because he doesn’t study enough and is incautious and carefree. What a lad. Talks then about the Anglicization of Adunaic names to give a feeling of Englishness--archaic English usages, different name endings being masculine of feminine, et c.

In some old families such as the Tooks and the Bolgers, it was the custom to give high-sounding first-names. Since most of these seem to have been drawn from legends of the past, and many while now meaningless to Hobbits closely resembled the names of Men in the Vale of Anduin, or in Dale, or in the Mark, I have turned them into those old names, largely of Frankish and Gothic origin, that are still used by us or are met in our histories. I have thus at any rate preserved the often comic contrast between the first-names and surnames, of which the Hobbits themselves were well aware.

As VV pointed out... It’s Good. I like to imagine Bolgers trying to come up with the sillest given name that just doesn’t go with Bolger at all. Isengrim would have been a good one, I can’t remember what family he was from.

Meriadoc was chosen to fit the fact that this character's shortened name. Kali, meant in the Westron 'jolly, gay', though it was actually an abbreviation of the now unmeaning Buckland name Kalimac.

Yes!! I’m so glad I finally hear what Kali means. I wonder if Tolkien came up with the English name or the Adunaic name first? I’m guessing English, that seems like how he rolls in this series. Aww Sam’s name means “he’s kinda dumb,” in archaic Adunaic. Leave him alone.

Last, here’s the explanation of ‘Brandywine,’ which I like very much in its complicated series of interwoven puns.

The hobbit-names of this river were alterations of the Elvish Baranduin, derived from baran 'golden brown' and duin '(large) river'. Brandywine seemed a natural corruption in modern times. Actually the older hobbit-name was Branda-nîn 'border-water', which would have been more closely rendered by Marchbourn; but by a jest that had become habitual, referring again to its colour, at this time the river was usually called Bralda-hîm 'heady ale'.

[toreadorwriter]

Ch 4 of what happens in the dark part 1

Chapter 3.5:

“Anatole, there is no time.  Put on this shirt and run a comb through your hair. We have to leave NOW. “ 

Alysa threw a burgundy dress shirt at the perplexed man and also began to strip off her well-loved shirt, ignoring the fact they were standing in the middle of the house. VV politely dove deeper into her book and averted her eyes, while Yuki asked the pair to kindly relocate somewhere else. 

Normally, when Alysa  had a feeling like this, it was for a quickly established reason. Go here and meet Anatole for the first time.  Pick up this book found on the street and go to the arcade, turns out it belongs to the children having some fun after sports practice. This time, it was accompanied by a sense of danger. 

“Anatole, your collar needs to be fixed” He tugged his shirt into place. 

“Is this one of your Jedi feelings again?”

“Yes, we need to go to a fancy restaurant in Hollywood. There is a dress code. Please follow it.”

“You do know that if you want to go out, you can just ask me. I won’t bite unless you ask” Anatole said with a devilish grin, “You don’t have to hide behind your powers.”

“Save the philosophy for later, we need to leave”

Yuki launched one of the many pillows at them to further emphasize her point. Alysa stopped by her room and grabbed a dress and pulled it on before leaving the apartment.

Chapter 4:

Jewel stepped out into the night,  wearing a beautiful shimmering red dress with the matching pumps and the black Louis Vitton purse that Romero had gotten her for her 24th birthday. Adorning her neck,  she wore another gold necklace set with her name engraved in the pendant. Issac let his eyes wander down the backless dress that showed off his lover's curves. There were only a few things in his unlife that he truly appreciated, one of them was beautiful women in elegant but sexy clothing that was also classy.  Second, fine entertainment and third, beautiful fashion. Fourth, both his lovers in general. When his favorites were combined into a night out with his loves, nothing would ruin his mood. 

Jewel’s hair was curled and the Toreador admired the way her mid length hair swirled around her face and framed it like a beautiful Christmas wreath. He couldn't help but admire Romero too once he stepped into view. The poor young man had been coerced to wear his gold suit and a sparkly tie to match and his hair was slicked back nicely, but not of his own volition. Isaac noticed he looked a bit embarrassed and he took the other man's hand and kissed it, causing the other to blush making the old vampire chuckle. This night was going to be a night to remember for centuries. The driver opened the door to the navy limousine and let the three lovers in before politely closing the door and getting in the driver's seat.

The ride to Isaac's restaurant was a quiet one. Not that it bothered Isaac, but he couldn't help but feel like they were being watched somehow. The vampire shrugged it off, he was probably just being paranoid. Being Baron usually made one so especially during these final nights and paranoia was part of the job description. He couldn't trust anyone but Romero and Jewel these days. Two hours finally passed and the three arrived at their destination completely unaware at first of Alysa and her boyfriend Anatole. They approached the trio and Alysa happily greeted them.

'Oh Jewel, I was wondering where you were and what a *coincidence* you are out on a date at the same time and place as us! And it’s amazing how our tables are next to each other” Alyssa said. 

“Odd, I never told her where we were going” Jewel thought. What an odd way to crash a date, but at least it was never boring when the Malkavians decided to gather. 

The two women embraced while Anatole awkwardly stood behind them. He  wore a well tailored suit while Alysa sported a messy bun and a gothic lace Midi dress. Jewel noticed one of her shoes was a purple dress shoe and the other was a green high top. 

'' What a surprise, I didn't think I'd run into you both here. What are you guys up to?" Jewel asked.

 Alysa explained they were out on a date which excited the necromancer, who took the opportunity to  proudly show that she was now engaged. Alysa excitedly begin to formulate wedding plans until they were herded into the restaurant's VIP section. 

The group was alone in the room, and one could drink whatever their undead hearts desired without fear of breaking the masquerade. Ghouled waiters in tuxedos brought in appetizers and drinks for the humans and politely ignored the stares from the curious patrons in the other sections. 

 Romero watched as the vampires drank down their blood.  He had ordered a soup and salad, not that he was dieting or anything, he just didn't really feel hungry or really up to eating anything right now. He also felt like they were being watched but he couldn't tell why, so he pretended everything was fine and  each time his soon to be wife and husband spoke to him he just laughed and nodded and hoped to God it wasn't a question. Thirty minutes later, the food arrived and Jewel just about melted in her chair. Isaac had the chef prepare a heart-shaped pizza and the pepperoni spelled out “I love you.” 

Alysa immediately ruined the romantic moment between the lovers by forgetting to turn off the flash of her phone’s camera and began to laugh at everyone’s faces in the camera. 

When Alysa turned the phone around to show the group, Romero noticed something was off about the background. Was that a shadow in the mirror? They were the only ones in this room, and he was keeping track of who entered and exited. 

''What the hell is that?" He asked pointing to the cloudy figure in the picture.

“What's what?" Jewel asked, curiously leaning in and biting her lip. 

“it's probably just a photobomb, the waiter probably jumped into the pic accidentally and that’s why it's like that." She explained.

Romero wasn't buying that explanation.

Alysa sarcastically said “Maybe it's a spooky ghost” and Anatole took the phone out of her hand and began to take a closer look. 

Anatole began to speak “That is definitely not a photobomb, it’s an-”, but the sound of shattering glass interrupting him. 

People began to run out of the building and the night was filled with the sounds of cellphones ringing and panic. 

Anatole turned around in the blink of an eye and punched into the darkness. 

In the dim light, a figure appeared into view and everyone in the room could watch it fall into the Champagne tower. Clawing at Anatole and ripping into his flesh, the figure lashed out and pulled himself out of the fountain and into full view. 

The assailant stood up, and shadows seemed to grow and rise off the ground. He stretched out his arms as if asking for a challenge and began to lunge towards Jewel. Unfortunately for him,Anatole was older and faster and less arrogant, and he reached out with his mind and requested the Lasombra to be still. 

He froze in place, unmoving, unblinking, unbreathing.

Alysa and Romero escorted Jewel out of the room, and began to usher the rest of the humans out of the restaurant. 

Anatole staked the frozen shadow with a chair leg and lowered him to the ground. Isaac wrapped him up in the pizza- stained tablecloth.

“I hate to say this, but we need to go to the prince. There is no reason for any Lasombra to be in my domain in Hollywood, and there is no chance he is here to go sight-seeing. Let’s inform the prince know he needs to take his pet back and train him better.” Isaac said while lifting the bundle like it was weightless. 

Leaving through the kitchen and exiting from the staff entrance, Isaac and Anatole walked nonchalantly through the chaos and carried the staked man to the alleyway. Sirens blared in the distance and a car approached. 

Alysa rolled down the window and called out,

“Hey, think I figured out why we needed to go out to dinner tonight. Don’t ask where the car is from because I won’t tell you.”

Jewel and Romero were in the back seat of the car, faces pale and harried. 

Throwing the body in the trunk, Anatole and Isaac climbed in. 

Alysa began to drive and all the passengers immediately wished they were back at the restaurant on solid ground.

Meanwhile in LA’s new Ivory Tower...

Prince William busily sighed away at important documents regarding kindred society and his business while his sheriff and lover  Ms. Balewa stood guard over him protectively. No one was allowed in or out. Theoretically, anyhow. 

The door flew open and Ms. Balewa reached into the waistband of her coat. 

A white cloth landed on the ground with a thud, and a Brady Bunch of other kindred appeared in the room behind it, 

Romero and Anatole harshly uncovered the tied up Lasombra and removed the stake. An unholy scream pierced the air and rattled the windows. 

Baron Isaac gave Prince William a pointed look while the ghouls winced from the loud wail.

 ''Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" Prince William asked the Lasombra, trying to remain calm but it was obvious that he was pissed beyond words.To his amazement the, Lasombra laughed and the sound sent chills down the human’s spines.

''You think I'm scared of you, Ventrue? You are nothing but a wannabe prince in a line of wannabe princes in a city that's one of the worst places on earth! I don't know why you’re even allowing this little whore over here to be baroness!... But before he could finish Isaac with the speed of a cheetah.

Isaac quickly grabbed him by the throat and squeezed so hard that the gang were afraid he was going to snap his neck! The lasombra began to dissolve into shadow as Isaac began to snarl threats at him. 

The Prince interupted the attempted murder. “ Mr. Abrams, that is enough. You are not the Prince of LA, I am. You do not have the authority to decide this man’s fate.”

Isaac was left holding nothing and shadows materialized next to him and became the attacker. 

“Wait, how do you know about the new barons? That announcement has not happened yet.” Isaac looked to the other Anarchs for help, but their faces were blank with fear at being in an Ivory Tower.  

Isaac turned to leave but was grabbed by the sheriff and forced to look at the prince. 

“You know, none of this would have happened if you just gave up on the Barony and joined the Ivory Tower. If you did not have baronesses, this man would not have had any reason to attack you.” Willam turned to look at the shadow dancer.

“For now, I will not kill you, but you will be questioned and put on trial. No matter your business in my domain, you should have made your presence known to me to gain permission to be here.”

 Isaac looked at Jewel. “The baroness will have to be under strict watch until we find out who sent him and who he's working for. The announcement will be postponed, even though it sounds like the news has already spread amongst the other kindred."

 Prince William sat down in his chair and sipped at a blood mixed wine.''Thank you all for reporting this, it will be dealt with appropriately. And Issac, the offer to join the Tower still stands. I can only offer you protection if we are on the same side.” 

“I will never join the tower. Thank you for your offer. Jewel, I will look into who sent the attacker to us and I will call a blood hunt on them, I cannot allow the kindred in Hollywood to kill each other off.”

The Prince indicated he was done dealing with the rabble, and the Anarch left the office. Isaac had many problems now and with the restaurant being thrashed and the safety of his bride, he was starting to worry more and more. Taking out his phone, the vampire hesitated before texting the number to Jewel's parents. 

“Mr. And Mrs. Price, we need to talk”

The response was immediate.

''We will discuss whatever it is in person, this line is not secure. Let us all meet tonight at 8:00pm." 

 Isaac had a lump in his throat. “So be it,” he thought to himself, “ I'll let Jewel know”  He texted back “understood” and pocketed his phone.

Isaac thanked Anatole and Alysa for their help and promised to give them a boon later on should they ever need anything. He then told Romero and Jewel to follow him as he called the limo, it wasn't safe for them at his old haven so the vacation Haven would have to do for tonight.

''We can't go back home and you can't go back to the house either, Jewel, we can't risk endangering your roommates or you whatsoever. Who ever is after you is probably upset that your going to be a baroness or it's chance, but I don’t think it is chance" Issac said. He really hated to do this, but he couldn't risk losing her. Luckily, his ghouls knew better than to argue.

“So much for an engagement dinner.” Jewel thought to herself.

Saying their goodbyes, the vampires and ghouls departed and the limo came up and picked them up. On their way to the second Haven, Jewel had fallen asleep on the way there but Romero was as tense as ever. Reaching over, Iissac rubbed soothing circles on his hands,  but still the ghoul was on edge, and who could blame him? Tonight was a rather shocking and nerve wracking as it is. Romero gave him a small smile, but it was one of nervousness. The drive to the haven was quiet.Two hours later, Isaac gently shook Jewel awake as they arrived at the other haven. The ghoul stretched and got out of the car, and the two were ushered in. Issac tipped the driver a very handsome amount of cash and with a commanding voice, told the driver “Forget where this is and what happened tonight.” The ghoul happily accepted the cash before driving away. 

Walking inside, Issac flipped on the lights and the three got settled in for the night.

Kicking her heels off, Jewel walked up the stairs and walked up to her room. Well, beauty room to be exact and closed the door behind her. Sitting down at her vanity, the necromancer muttered an incantation and the vanity mirror shone bright before opening up a portal to her roommate Susi's room, which scared the living daylights out of her and her boyfriend Mercurio. ''Jewel, goddamn it! How many times did we tell you not to do that magical shit unexpectedly!" 

 Mercurio angrily quipped before holding a hand to his heart and Susi just laughed as Jewel rolled her eyes.

''Look, I'm sorry, okay. But something bad happened today and I'm going to have to be put under protection from Isaac."  Jewel confessed and Susi and Mercurio froze .

“What? Why? They asked, a look of deep concern shone on their faces.

Jewel explained the events of the night to them and the couple exchanged worried looks.

“Hey, where are you? Are you going to be safe?" Susi asked.

And Jewel smiled but waved it off. '' I'm at Isaac’s vacation home. Don't worry, we have everything under control. They tried to kill me, but trying the second time is an immediate death wish. Besides, I placed a spell on the house and myself so nobody could track us. This isn't my first rodeo after all." Jewel replied calmly while a ghostly familiar helped her take her makeup off while the other handed her a mirror before floating off towards her wardrobe.

 Mercurio looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. Jewel was stubborn and he heard she was even harder to convince to stop doing things. When she made up her mind, the perfume bottle on the vanity vibrated and that meant she was receiving another call.

 Jewel tried to smile through it. “I love you both but i have to go now we'll talk tomorrow." She promised.

Susi frowned, crossing her arms in disapproval.  ''Alright, goodnight. but please stay safe." she asked. 

“Will do,” Jewel promised before pressing her finger to the mirror and closing the chat. Picking up the next call, Two appeared through the mirror, looking a bit peeved. Why he so mad at her? Then it dawned on her. She completely forgot she promised to watch horror flicks with him. 

When it rains, it monsoons. 

[meowsaidmayaanime]

What I'm Watching July 2016 as of 7/30

7/30 Kaleido Star

This was surprisingly good. A friend got me into this anime when she was moving out and trying to get rid of stuff she had to make the move easier. Kaleido Star is a children's anime about a Japanese girl named Sora who goes to LA to join a world renowned circus/acrobatics group housed at Kaleidostage. With her dream of becoming a Kaleidostage star, she goes through hardships, makes friends, and changes the people around her and herself for the better. It's an incredibly heartwarming story.

Even though it is a children's show, it doesn't feel like one. (the DVD boxes rate it as PG, but myanimelist rates it as PG13? Yeah no, this is definitely PG). The show doesn't consist of stand alone's rather each episode builds off of each other. Occasionally there will be a side story, but a large portion of the show dedicates back to back episodes about the obstacles that appear. It also doesn't try to force life lessons in each episode or give you random stories that have nothing to do with the plot. If anything its more for the older children because it tells a story, and a good one.

It has two season with 25 episodes in each, which makes it surprisingly short for a kids show. It's very good, and a good one that any adult would be able to watch along with their children. (in that its not unbearable). Admittedly it took a while for me to really get into it. I watched half of the first season then set it aside for a few months (also for the reason that the DVD was stuck in my dead laptop for a while...), but once I picked it up again and reached the climax of season one, I couldn't stop watching it and finished both season within the next few days.

My only main critique (aside form the dub) is that they do not really show you much of the performances, and what they do show ends up being stills rather than fluid animation. I understand if they had a limited budget, but I would have liked to have seen the acts and maneuvers that we spend so much time watching the characters practice for, (so much time). It sort of feels like a let down to me when all this effort and trial and emotion and character grows comes from training for specific maneuvers and yet we as the audience don't see much more than still of... Regardless its a great show, just that I wish it had more budget to spend on the actual performances. It would have made this show even better than it already is.

If you like anime intended for young audiences, or even sports anime, or series about overcoming obstacles and character development, I would recommend this one. Especially since it's nature of being a kids show doesn't let it wallow in dark topics for long. Just whatever you do, don't watch the English dub, it is absolutely terrible.

7/25 Parasite: The Maxim

This was a really interesting anime, that turned out to be surprisingly philosophical. It's about teenager Shinichi who wakes up in the middle of the night to this very creepy worm like creature burrowing itself into his arm and moving quickly towards his head. He manages to stop it by wrapping the cord of his earbuds around his upper arm. Soon the creature turns out to be a parasite which has taken full control of his right arm and has its own separate intelligence.  Shinichi learns that there are other parasites that were successful of taking over the heads of humans, and kill other humans to feed. The entire time I was watching it I could not stop thinking about Tokyo Ghoul. While in Tokyo Ghoul the ghouls are born from other ghouls and have human emotions, these parasites came out of nowhere suddenly and are incapable of human feelings and values, acting and thinking only in extreme rational survivalistic ways. There are numerous other comparisons to make, but I don't want to spoil anything in this post for either anime. I may make a separate post devoted specifically to those two though.

Either way I enjoyed this anime a lot. Although unlike with Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul where I was able to relate to and sympathize with him throughout the entire series. I found that, after a specific event, I was steadily losing my ability to relate with Shinichi. The reason why makes sense, and the reason why this happened follows logical means which is what the show was about. However despite their attempts to make Shinichi more relatable, or a more sympathetic character, it just never worked for me. And because of that the show gradually started to lose me personally as a viewer. I don't know if anyone else shares that opinion, or if they think it was an intentional aspect that makes the anime. It doesn't make the anime bad by any means, it just makes it more of a thinker rather than a feeler if that makes any sense.

I still enjoyed this anime and would still recommend it despite the fact that it may not be on my personal likes. If you like Tokyo Ghoul I would say to check this one out. Or if you like philosophical and psychological anime this is a good one to watch.

7/21 Tanaka-Kun Wa Itsumo Kedaruge (Tanaka-Kun is always Listless)

This is an adorable somewhat plot less slice of life. It follows the daily life Tanaka, a very listless highschooler, and his friend Ohta who takes care of him while at school. I say it's somewhat plot less because while there is no story arch, the episodes do follow a set time span and use information gathered from previous episodes. But all in all its a story of trying to find out just how listless Tanaka can be. The series ended halfway through the school year, and while I would like to see more episodes, because the show is funny and adorable, I don't think there is much of a reason to make a second season. All in all, it's an adorable anime that would be perfect for winding down after a more intense one.

I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys laid back slice of life~

7/19 Haikyuu!! TOP PICK FOR THIS MONTH

I have boarded the sports anime train, and I don't think I'm ever getting off. This is the fifth sports anime I'm watching and I think it may be my favourite. It's funny too because I only recently started watching sports anime when I watched Free! last December.

This anime is fabulous! I know I say that a lot, but it is so true! Haikyuu!! is about Hinata who joins his high school Volley ball team. The rest of the show is about the developing relationships between the team, the development of their characters and skills, and their relationships between the teams they play against as they try to make it to the Nationals.

I love so much about this anime, every character is different, has their own reasons for playing, their own personalities, their own skills, and their own developmental journey. The characters are amazing!! On top of all that the animation is great, they animate the games incredibly well, and whenever someone does something that's particularly fast or strong they do a fabulous job of showing it through the art style and movements. Ah, I could watch this show for days, well, more days than I already have. (Click the image to view the gif, cause for some reason it won't automatically play...)

Look at the smooth animation!!

Speaking of the art style, It's different than whats common in anime, feeling a little more like a manga, but that's what makes it so great. The style allows them to make fabulous faces/expressions and movements. and Oh man the faces are great, I LOVE an anime that's able to use such a variety of expressions on so many different characters. Look at these faces!

Its such a feel good anime, its so light-hearted, and bright, and funny, and intense! There are only two season out right now, but the third season is to air this fall! I'm so excited!! so, So, SO excited!!! AAAHHHHHH~

This is a must watch. It doesn't matter what genre of anime you like, everyone should give this one a chance.

7/14 Sound! Euphonium

This is really beautiful. It's a slice of life following the main character Kumiko as she makes new friends and joins the high school concert band. The animation, visuals and music were amazing! Much like Your Lie in April, all the motions (from what I could tell, I've never played in a concert band but do have years of classical training (violin) under my belt) were correct. They had detailed finger motions, movements of the players while playing (rather than just standing still while the music is going, I'm looking at you 90% of the other anime who don't do any animation, or do waaaay off animation when a character plays an instrument). The story is well done too, and a completely natural slice of life. I was going to go on about how they ended the season at 13 episodes with so many questions left over, that is until I just now checked that a season 2 will be airing this fall 2016. Which I am excited about. At the same time, I do wish that instead of breaking it up into two half seasons, that they had gone for one full (22-26 episode) season. I feel as though a lot of things were left out and perhaps a little rushed during this season. Also I believe that the 'extra' episode they give you at the end of the season could have been worked into the previous episodes and served to further round out the characters. Especially since we did not get to see much of them during the latter half of the season. (Click to view the rest of my opinion, which includes spoilers. Once you get to the page enter 'givemethespoiler' to view it)

Either way, this is a really good slice of life. And I recommend it to others who love slice of life and/or great music. It caught me off guard quite a few times, and I can't wait to see more of the relationship between Kumiko and Reina!! And Natsuki, and Atsuka, and Shuuichi, and Taki-Sensei, yeah this anime definitely should have been a full season... Unfortunately I can't even see with the original source material if the anime is properly following it because this was adapted from a light novel series not translated into English...

7/10 Kamisama Kiss

AAAAAAAAA.  I love this anime!!! It's been so long since iv'e found such a great comedy romance, and it's the kind of anime I used to watch a lot of back in the day. It has gods, a really good premise, two seasons (with the third coming later this year!!) and its just great! It starts off when a girl named Nanami, left with no home, suddenly becomes a land god~ She gains a rather interesting familiar ( who not ony has the same voice actor as Kyouya senpai, but also the same personality~!) and shows their adventures of Nanami's life as she learns to be a god as well as the deepening relationship between her and her familiar.

I havn't been so excited for an anime in quite a while, at least not like this. In fact the last time I felt like this was when I was reading the Fruits Basket and Ouran Hist School Host Club manga. If you like either of those you will certainly love this! I can't wait for the next season!! I'm too hyped up right now that all I can do is gush about this show.

Ok, ok, to talk seriously about it, it feels a lot like a harem. Female characters other than Nanami are few and rarely seen. In fact I was dissapointed by the sudden addition of another male character to be constantly around her in the second season. As feminine as Tomoe is (oh he's so cute), we need more X chromosomes to add to the mix. There were also one or two lines to the effects of 'but your a girl' which really bothered me. It may just be a cultural thing and was overlooked, but it still bothered me quite a bit. Especially considering that Nanami is very capable in terms of her character. Despite the fact that I now realize that the story, while in a completely different environment, is one that has been told and told before. It's by no means new, but it is good.There's a reason why people keep coming back to it, because it's one that people love. And one that I am fond of, when it is put to good use~

It's not a show for everyone but if you want a good shoujo comedy romance you will love this!!

7/8 Inari Kon Kon

An anime about a girl who saves a goddesses familiar and in return has her wish granted. However, the wish doesn't turn out and end up causing quite a few issues. This anime is adorable, and features a look into the world of Japanese deities (which I also have a weakness for in terms of anime). Though its not a particularly noteworthy show. I like how the show handles the interactions between characters, and gives them real personalities. It's like a semi-natural drama, natural humans with natural reactions, and I'm very appreciative of that. Further, the struggles that each character faces are also natural struggles. They talk about jealousy of others, and the fear of approaching others to form meaningful relationships.

I wish I had been able to see more into the world of the gods, and really more of the anime itself for that matter. I feel like they left what could have been a huge factor, Inari's brother, too far out of the picture and did not build up the climax enough. It was only 10 episodes, and the plot was resolved so there is no chance of more content. Basically it was cute, but not something I would particularly recommend...

7/7 Kumamiko

This show is absolutely adorable. I feel like I've been saying that a lot lately, but it is absolutely true. It's a slice of like about a miko waaay out in the boonies whose village's heritage involves bears, and whose guardian is in fact, a bear! She wants to go to high school in the city, but is absolutely unprepared for any life style other than the middle of no where life she lives. She is scared of crowds and of modern day appliances. That being said, we follow her daily life around the village and at the shrine, as well as watch her steadily try to adapt herself to be able to 'handle' being in the city.

Its a rather wholesome light comedy, filled with realistic characters and situations. Which, if you've been able to tell by now, is what I want out of my slice of life. I want my slice of life to be just that! Realistic and almost as though it was taken directly from a real experience, with real people, real reactions, and nothing that is absolutely outrageous. (If I want outrageous I would go for a pure comedy rather than an anime that is mostly slice of life.)

If you love slice of life, this is definitely the anime for you!

7/3 Re:Life

Holy crap this anime turned out vastly better than I ever expected it to. The premise is that 27 year old Kaizaki Arata is unable to get a job after he quite his first job after only 3 months of employment. Now he has become slightly recluse and very much dispirited from being constantly turned away at interviews because of this and is unable to support himself. Until an agent at this company developing the technology to make a persons appearance young again with the offer of paying for Kaizaki's living expenses for one year while he goes back to high school using the drug in order to turn him into a productive member of society. After reading that I was intrigued but also expecting a total 'boob-fest'. Instead the show turned out to be very real, down to earth and focuses on many social issues and the development of relationships from classmates, to coworkers, to friends, to even (a little) romance. It's absolutely fascinating and doesn't have the stereotypical characteristics of a high school anime. The characters are wholesome and well rounded, following their journey of self discovery and growth. This series is also the first series on Crunchyroll to be fully released all at once. So while it is technically a 2016 summer anime, the full 13 episodes were released July 1st. Which I think is really cool. I'm sure there will be another season considering this season (from what I heard) only barely scratched the tip of the manga. It did not reach the end of the '1 year as a high school student' instead this season covers only half of the school year. But despite that, the ending of the season was not rushed and came to a wonderful (temporary) close. Because it was JUST released, no one quite knows when the second season will be released or if Re:Life was confirmed for one, but hopefully we will get to see more soon.

This is an anime I would definitely recommend anyone give a chance. Simply because it is very well done. If you like character development/self-discovery, school or slice of life anime, you will love this one. It is not fast paced and does not have fan service (i'm glad), so don't go into this expecting any of that!

10/10 would watch again. Here's the trailer.