#and also possibly the corpse itself. like if its some old guy who looks like he just died of natural causes vs somebody who was fucking

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

Finished Felvidek and had a grand time!

Thought I'd do a lil list of things/moments/details I loved off the top of my head:

gave cursed coffee bean to a chicken and it mutated. Did it for science

game's got some twin peaks vibes, some monty python, a tad of hylics, along it a bunch of other ingredients, but it feels very much its own thing with its own identity

pear man and his daughters deserve the world, wish we hung out more

there's a fight with an invisible enemy, all your attacks miss because your guys can't see shit and I was laughing just imagining Pavol and Matej swinging their swords at nothing hoping to slay the forest fiend. Very Don Quixote, I love it.

the PS1 style cutscenes are sooooo beautiful I love them to pieces, they drip with style and charm. I knew I needed to give this game a go the moment I watched the trailer and was greeted by the cinematics. God I love them so much. And not just the syle but the directing itself, the way shots are framed, god...

I love the character portraits for everyone. There's so much detail and everyone feels unique/like an actual person with distinct features. From the Priest's very punchable face, to Pavol's grin to Josef's sexy ass... From main characters to NPCs to enemy sprites, I love everyone's design and colour coding (don't know if it was intentional but the purple for the cultists was neat, seemed to subtly imply early on that they were being funded by rich folk, since pruple is associated with nobility, power and wealth)

speaking of character design, shout-out to this lil guy, look at him please

Numnut the drunkard my beloved, I recruited him and less than a minute later he fell on flat ground into a nearby river (and drowns???). I reloaded a previous save to see if I could have him in my party a lil longer. I took a different path, got into a fight. "yay I get to see him in action!"- I thought. I used his one special move, called: 'good idea', and Numnut proceeds to punch his own face, dealing 90 damage (not even in the endgame did I deal such high numbers!). THE Character of all time, he drowned again after that and I'll never forget him.

BALLOON IN THE MIDDLE AGES! (possible Andrei Rublev reference? I can dream...)

just, the way things are worded:

cutting people's ears after killing them as spoils (and giving the ears to a maiden, as you do)

there's a quest where you have to cut a man's tattooed buttock to give to another guy, and it's all for nothing, you ruined a man's ass for nothing. I love it. The dialogue during this whole section had me dying.

I love that there's just this guy who lives in the castle's well. And our boy Pavol thinks it's a great idea to throw a bomb in there to make him come out.

this:

there's these lil inisghtful and mournfoul comments on the dead bodies you leave behind. Like, expressing regret at all the senseless violence and death or how cheap life is here. And I'm not sure if it's Pavol or Matej making them. It makes more sense for it to be Matej but I kinda like the idea of it being Pavol's comments, these small moments of introspection and realization in the midst of a drunken adventure. You've been engaging in all the violence while pissed drunk but then after you kill your opponents and look at their corpses... and it's like this sobering moment, before you're back at it with all the merry-making (I also like that a lot of these bodies don't disappear and just remain on screen, and you can see the carnage your guys leave behind in their quest)

the whole adventure felt to me like, this series of odd little events in a knight's life before it's passed down, told by and retold by different people, and after many generations it's been touched up and made more coherent and noble than the clusterfuck it actually was. Before it became a narrative I guess is what I mean

it can get a bit wordy and hard to follow but I really like the old timey way the dialogue is written and its dry sense of humour

there's these little subversions of gaming tropes that I found really fun too! Like as soon as Pavol's wife and your falling out with her is introduced you may expect a reconciliation between the two, or a moment where you have to save her and prove your worth and love to her to win her heart. As you would expect from a story with a knight and a damsel. But no she hates his guts lmao tries to murder him too! (tho I do think Pavol took her in that balloon ride at the end). There's also the fact that I am not allowed to play minigames! Josef wants to play tabletop games but your character always replies no. No minigames for you son! And like, this feels especially catered to me as someone who, more often than not, will dread whenever a game will introduce some sort of card game or the like. I was so happy that wasn't forced on me for once! Couldn't believe it. Kinda felt bad for Josef tho, I'm sorry Pavol doesn't wanna play Pexeso wth you.

the battle animations! I'm particularly fond of the eating porridge one, or the chugging down a bucket of sour cream, and the petard

the little *slaps face* animation

Pavol and Matej as a duo and the whole tavern scene with the two exchanging clothes

the lil moments of humanity where Pavol talks about his broken life and sense of self

the rare moments when Pavol stops grinning

it goes without saying but the art is absolutely gorgeous. Its nostalgic monochrome melancholy speaks to me on a deep spiritual level. Inject it directly into my bone marrow please. Shout-out also to the ost, it fucks and has tons of bangers. The Hrad track, the one that plays on Josef's castle... god... love at first listen, and have been listening nonstop for the last few days now while going on walks.

[nickyhemmick]

A Very Stressed American Jew here again,

Hi! Thank you for taking the time to respond to my ask and yes, I’m someone who loves hearing as many perspectives as possible so I’d love some sources from you. I also very much appreciate the fact you are being very careful to only reblog posts that are anti Israel, not antisemetic (which is frankly a breath of fresh air, the internet has been a bit exhaustingly full of both antisemitic & Islamaphobic content these past feel days as I bet you’ve seen)

I’ve also been to Israel on a Birthright trip. We met people who ( both Palestinian and Israeli) on various sides of the conflict and learned a ton about it, from both perspectives which I was lucky to have the opportunity to do. We even went a little into the Gaza Strip to talk to these people running a pro Palestine peace movement and it was so important to me hearing those stories.

I never said they were on equal footing militarily, they definitely are not, Israel definitely has that advantage. But you are incorrect about Israel always being the aggressor since 1948,they’ve defended themselves about as often as they’ve attacked. Isreal is a small country comparatively to the ones surrounding it, so it makes sense it defends itself heavily in case of an attack.

I 100% agree that there are too many people who are compliant with the mistreatment of many Palestinians! I’m not anti #freepalestine at all! I get why that is a thing. But I also stand with Israel( but that does not mean I condone every action they take. ) Overall I think the situation is extremely complicated and some sort of compromise should be reached.

It’s just been very frustrating to see so many people reblog things on a situation just bashing Israel because so many others are doing it. Especially when then don’t know what they are talking about or using big buzz words that they don’t know what they mean, or spreading misinformation. It’s been on both sides and has been very very draining. I just want peace and some sort of solution. It makes me extremely happy you know what you are talking about and can debate politely yet happily about it. The internet has been so ‘ either agree with me 100% or you a bad person’ about this so it’s refreshing to see you are not like that.

I’ve done a lot of research into it from as many perspectives as I can get my hands on.

Some extremest Israelis are hurting Palestinians

Some extremest Palestinians are hurting Israelis

Both sides are throwing rockets at each other and it’s terrifying.

Both sides claim the other side is brainwashed

There is so much biased propaganda out there on both ends it’s hard to know what is truly happening.

I know people living in Israel who have sent me videos they’ve taken of rockets flying over there heads and I’m so scared for them. I’m so scared for all the innocent people caught in the crossfire on both sides.

Thank you for a more nuanced response and I’d love some of your sources,

A Very Stressed American Jew

Hi anon, 

I wasn’t going to respond to this until after my math final tomorrow but I’ve spent the past two days thinking of your ask and the things I wish to articulate in my answer. 

I am going to start here: how can you say you support Israel but say you are also pro-free Palestine (as in, you said you are not anti free Palestine). In my opinion, these two ideas cannot coexist. Simply because, the entire establishment of Israel has been on violent, racist, colonial grounds. 

(Super long post under here guys)

You said you don’t support all Israel’s actions, and definitely, just because you support something doesn’t mean you can’t criticize it. However, in my opinion, if you do not support Israel’s actions against Palestinians there’s not much left to support? I admit this is a very biased view as I am Palestinian, but many things that people support about Israel have existed before its creation: as in, these are things and qualities that have existed in Judaism and are not due to “Israeli culture.” There is no Israeli culture. There’s Jewish culture--100%. But there is no Israeli culture, because Israel does not only steal Palestinian land, but Palestinian culture, too. Such as claiming Levant food is Israeli; hummus, ful, falafel, shawarma. I mentioned food from this article I know is culturally and traditionally of the Levant, and has been for centuries, it is not something that has come to culinary creation in the past 73 years. 

I do not think this is a complicated issue. I said that in the previous ask and I’ll say that again. Saying it is a complicated issue is trivializing the deaths of innocent Palestinians, the violent dispossession our ancestors endured, and the apartheid they live under. I hope if anything comes from this discussion it is you removing the “it’s a complicated issue” phrase from your vernacular. 

This is not complicated. A journalist reporting the death of martyrs only to discover that of them include two of his brothers is not complicated. The asymmetry of Israel vs Palestinian armed forces is not complicated, nor is the asymmetry in Israeli vs Palestinian suffering (which I will get to later). It is not complicated.  Destroying the graves of martyred Palestinians (or just in general, the graves of the dead) is not complicated. Little children being pulled from the rubble, children being forced to comfort one another as they are covered in the ashes of their decimated homes, attacking unarmed citizens in peaceful demonstrations (you can find videos before this attack where they were playing with kites and balloons), destroying an international media office and refusing to allow journalists to retrieve the work they are spending every waking hour documenting but claiming it was because it was a hide out for a “Hamas base,” fathers who are trying to cheer their frightened children up only to end up dead the next day, while many Israeli have the privilege and the option to go to hotel-like bomb shelters is not complicated. 

This brings me to my next point: the suffering of Palestinians cannot be compared to the inconvenience of Israeli’s. On one side, you have children who are happy to have saved their fish in the face of their homes and lives being decimated behind them to Israeli’s in Tel Aviv having to cut their beach day short to get to bomb shelters. You have mothers and fathers ready to set their lives down for their children to save them from bombs to Israeli’s enjoying their brunch only after making sure there are bomb shelters there. You have Palestinian children being murdered to blocking out the sound of sirens in the safety of your bomb shelters. (The first picture of the Palestinian child is not from footage of the recent problems). You have the baby lone survivor of a whole family recovered from rubble. His whole family, gone, before he ever had the chance to realize that he even exists, while Israeli’s decide to flee out of the country,(Translate the caption from Twitter, it checks out), or have to leave the shower due to sirens. Who is really suffering? 

I won’t sit here and pretend like the thought of rockets flying over my head, no matter which side I am on, is not terrifying. It is. It’s scary to just think about. But Israeli’s have protection beyond Palestinian’s, they have sirens to warn them (Israel does not always warn Palestinian building members that it is about to be bombed), they have the Iron Dome, they have simply the threat of nuclear power (which I am not saying Israel would use, but the simple fact they have it would make me feel a lot better if I were an Israeli citizen) and they have bomb shelters. What do Palestinians have? Hamas? That smuggles its weapons through the ocean? That only ever reacts to the action Israel instigates? And yet Gazans are branded terrorists and that it is their fault that they “elected” a terrorist organization that only was ever created due to no protection from any armed country? (There are so many links I want to add in this paragraph but it is simply impossible for me to add everything I want, a lot of what I’m referring to can either be found through a Google search, or you can stalk my Twitter account, all that I am posting now is about Palestine, and will include sources of things I cannot add in just this one post.) 

Look, I see myself in the genocide happening in Palestine right now. I see myself in this ten year-old girl. In this three year old girl. I see me and my family in videos of cars being attacked in Ramallah and Sheikh Jarrah (I cannot find the Ramallah video, should be somewhere on my Twitter), I see my father in the countless videos of fathers crying out for their children, of kissing the corpse of their loved ones (again, translate the Tweet, the man holding the body is saying “just one kiss”). I see my grandfather in videos like this (old footage). I see my younger brother, I see my grandmother, my mother, my aunts and uncles and cousins. I see myself and my life and my family were my father not lucky enough to get a scholarship to the UK and out of Palestine, were my maternal grandfather not been lucky enough to make it to a refugee camp and build a life in Jordan. I have an unbelievable amount of privilege to be born into the life I was born in to, in terms of I do not have the threat of bombs and violent dispossession around me, and I do not even live in the US. I have privilege and sheer luck that my parents were able to go to the US so that me and my brothers can be born, because now I have both the protection of the most powerful country in the world while at the same time being part of a people to have suffered so generously the past seventy-three years. 

On the other hand, you saying that Israel has “defended themselves about as often as they’ve attacked. Israel is a small country comparatively to the ones surrounding it, so it makes sense it defends itself heavily in case of an attack,” I offer you this question: why are they using military grade guns and stun grenades in mosques to “defend” themselves from rocks? And before you mention that Hamas hit Tel Aviv, I remind you that Hamas did that due to the violence in the Al-Aqsa mosque square and the attempted ethnic cleansing in Sheikh Jarrah. The violence didn’t begin with us; the violence was brought out of Palestinians in resistance to the generations of oppression we have endured and the attack on Palestinian Muslims during the holiest night of Ramadan. Hamas has since asked for a ceasefire multiple times and Israel is refusing. New reports say there is a possibility of a ceasefire in the coming days, but Israel could have decided this a long time ago and spared many lives. (Remember, no matter what resistance we make, Israel is the one in power).

Israel has been the aggressor since 1948. Just read up about the Nakba! 700k Palestinian families were dispossessed violently. The only reason Israel was established at all was because it simply declared it was now a country and the US and many other countries recognized it as such. (Of course, there are many other historical details here, like the British Mandate of Palestine, the Balfour Declaration, the Oslo Accords and many others. I am aware of them but these are for a different post all together). My paternal grandfather was a little younger than me when Israel as a state was created. The hostility that followed was due to this independent declaration being listened to over Palestinian voices. 

Here is a very, very simplified analogy, one that can also answer some people’s questions as to why Palestinians (not Arabs, we are Palestinian before we are Arab) did not like what happened in 1948 and why they refused a two-state solution (that Israel was never going to go through with anyway). (I am also aware other Arab nations got involved, and that is perhaps what you mean when you said they had to defend themselves, but my response to that would still be we didn't start it, that we only responded to it).

Let’s say you are a farmer. You have many fields of trees, ones you have taken shelter under from the sun since you were a child, or hid behind when you wanted to avoid your parents when you misbehaved. You have seen your trees grow from a seed, to a sprout, to a flower, to a large, beautiful tree with fruits the size of a fist. You pluck the fruits from one tree, and make a jam from it. I don’t know how to make jam but I know it takes a lot of energy. So, you make this jam and from it, produce a lovely, mouth-watering pie. Once it has cooled from the oven, you take it with you outside your balcony just so that you can admire the years, months, weeks and hours this one pie has taken to be created. Suddenly, a stranger walks past and yells to you, “That pie looks delicious, I want it!” And you, shocked at their boldness but ready to share, say, “I will give you a bite.” But the stranger says, “No! I do not want a bite or a slice or whatever you want to offer me, I want the pie!” And they grab it from you. You and the stranger start screaming at one another about who the pie is for, who is allowed to decide what happens to it, and who you can share it with. Then, another stranger comes by and says, “Why all the problems? Let’s cut the pie in half and the both of you can share it!” But why should you, who has spent years cultivating the fruit and grain inside this pie, share it? Why should you give up half of the 100% that you already owned? Of what you already had? So you disagree, and now a crowd has formed around you. “What’s the problem?” someone in the crowd calls. “They don’t want to share their pie!” another voice says. Then you become branded a selfish, mean bastard. Again, this is a super simplified analogy, so don’t take it too seriously, but I am trying to show you why Israel is the aggressor.

In addition, I do not know too much about the Birthright program, just that American Jewish people are sent to Israel, all expenses paid. I tried my best to find the Twitter thread but I read it so long ago, about an American Jewish person who went on their trip and they talked about the propaganda that they were exposed to on that trip. I can’t say for sure that it is true, because I haven’t been on it and never will, but that is the first thing I thought of when you mentioned your Birthright trip. Either way, I think it is still great you went and saw the country. However, I must ask you this: are the people you met ones you, yourself, sought out, or ones you were organized to meet?

Now, I haven’t been to Gaza, so I don’t know what you really saw or didn’t, but did you speak to Palestinians who lost their homes to airstrikes? Did you speak to siblings, parents or children of loved ones who had been lost beneath the rubble of buildings and towers? Outside of Gaza, did you speak to Palestinians that live in poor quarters? Ones who have been victims of an IDF soldier shooting them, or who have family members who have died from such attacks? Did they take you guys to Ramallah, to Nablus, to Beit-Imreen, to Jenin, to small villages in the West Bank, far away from Jerusalem and Tel Aviv? Did you speak to people there? Ask them their stories? Because if you did I have a very hard time believing you still think Israel is “defending” itself.

I’ve been to Jerusalem, many times, even Tel Aviv and Jaffa and Haifa. All the times I visited Dome of the Rock there were IDF soldiers with huge guns strapped to their person, standing menacingly outside the courtyard. For what? Genuinely, genuinely for what? It is nothing but an intimidation tactic. The same way we are not allowed in through the airport. If you could see the struggle some Palestinians actually go through just to get into Palestine, through the land border, you would be disgusted. I love Palestine, it is my ancestry land, it is my culture and tradition. But I always hated going to visit because I knew the way to getting there would be hell.

My father worked in Tel Aviv through the first Intifada. My maternal grandfather was forced out of his home in the Nakba and was forced to leave behind his belongings and the orange trees that have been in his family for generations. Hell, the town they lived in was destroyed! It doesn’t exist anymore except in the memories of my aunts and uncles, who never even saw it, but just heard of it from their father!

I’m not saying there aren’t Palestinians who are racist and anti-Semitic (though, tbh, I will direct you here for that) and who support Hamas in killing Israeli’s, but talking about how there are many “extremist” Palestinians who are hurting Israeli’s and in the next line say there are extremist Israeli’s who are hurting Palestinians is not correct. There are extremist Israeli’s killing, lynching, stealing the houses of Palestinians, and there are Palestinians who are fed up and fighting back. (I am not talking about Hamas vs the IDF here, I am talking about the citizens). I have not seen one reported death of an Israeli due to Palestinian violence (if you have, from a trusted source, send it to me), but I have seen countless of the other way around. I have seen images of charred little bodies, of a baby being dug out of the rubble, of a child’s body that had been so mutilated that you can literally see the insides of their body coming out. (I don’t know if it’s on my Twitter, I didn’t want to save that shit). If this was my country I would be absolutely ashamed of myself and my people and what they are doing in the name of my protection. So you have to forgive me, and forgive other Palestinians, who don’t give a fuck about Israeli’s having anxiety over rockets flying over their heads when we see these images. Where is the protection of our kids? Why does no one seem to mention them except when mentioning the poor, innocent ones in Israel? At least more than the majority of them have their parents to comfort and rock them. At least many of them will probably be saved of ever having to be beneath the rubble of a destroyed building, or digging in it, to hope to find the parts of their parents or siblings just so that they can bury them. Just the links from the start of my answer is enough to support what I am saying.

I have soooo much more I can say, like how Israel uses religion to distort the image of what’s going on (tbh, just check my Twitter for that: language is EVERYTHING), but you didn’t mention religion in any of this and so I won’t either. The only reason I decided to respond to you in such length was because you have been one of the few respectful anons in my inbox in the past few years of me being on here talking about Israel, so I appreciate that from you. 

As promised, some more sources: decolonizepalestine is a good place to start if you haven’t used it already, it has reading materials, myth busting, and more. Here is a map list of destroyed localities from pre-1948 until 2017, run by two anti-Zionist Israelis. Here and here are the articles I promised of a former IDF soldier-turned Palestinian activist, I read these two last year in June and remember coming out much more informed than before I read them. I suggest looking into the writer and his organization, which, if I remember correctly, collects accounts from previous IDF soldiers. I would suggest not to follow Israel and the IDF accounts on any platform, or any Israel times newspaper, simply because they will not tell you the truth. In fairness, you do not have to follow any Palestinian Authority accounts (which I am not even sure there are), but to follow on-ground Palestinians like Mohammed El-Kurd, who has been speaking out since he was 12 (he is now 22) and he is part of the families in Sheikh Jarrah. I have noticed that this and this account have been translating Arabic headlines and tweets for non-Arabic speakers, I have just started following this person but their bio says they are a Palestinian Jewish person so I am interested in their view of things. You can also follow Israeli’s on-ground and see their perspective on things, but I would also advise to compare the Palestinian and Israeli side of things from the people, and critically analyze the language used in each case. Also, this article references Jewish scholars opposed to the occupation (I have not looked into them myself but I plan to after my exams), and Norman Finklestein is another great Jewish scholar to look into if you haven’t. Twitter is better than Instagram and Facebook, so I would stick to getting live-info from there, Twitter does not censor Palestinian content as much as Insta and Facebook so you’re more likely to see things there.

I will end this by saying I personally do not see any other option for peace than to give Palestinians our land back. Whether we may be Muslim, Jewish or Christian, it has always been and will always be our land. I only hope to see it free in my lifetime. 

Free Palestine. 

[thefairyletters]

✨ Spooky Recs✨

I read a lot of fanfictions... More than I am proud of. I thought I should recommend as I go before I lose sight of their existence among the sea of my favorites.

Since past few days I have been craving for some creepy, unnerving fanfics that will keep me restless and awake at night. I remembered my favorites and wanted to read more of the kind so I looked up, patiently going through each story that sounded compelling. I also revisited old stories for nostalgia's sake.

Of course, rare as they are, in Naruto fandom no less, it's even harder to find a horror and mystery fic that is well written, not dropped under 2 chapters, and really keeps your attention.

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Genre: Horror, Mystery, Comedy

I've rated 4 aspects of the work -

Writing – I don't judge writing based solely on the grammar and vocabulary. I also consider how the author expands upon a subject, if they are consistent with the facts, if they are able to keep the attention of the readers regardless of their creative writing skills.

Characters – If the characters are well-developed, in their given character, if OCs have any real significance to the story.

Plot – How gripping is the storyline, if the story sticks to its original plot, the structure of the story, plot holes.

Flow – Mother-of-slow-burn, slow-but-steady, steady, fast, I-am-speed

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When the flowers cry : TCOOKIES777 || M || AO3/FFN || SasuSaku || Goth Horror || Post-Canon, set during Blank Period || Ongoing

When one of the greatest medical-nin in the world goes missing in what should have been a simple delivery to the Land of Spring’s Hidden Snow Village, the rest of Team 7 must reunite to find her. But even the most powerful team of shinobi will find themselves challenged in a battle against the supernatural. With Sasuke's return, vengeful ghosts of the past will test him and his love.

My thoughts : One of the best stories I've read in a while, and top tier SS stories. I read this in one sitting. I never listen to music while reading, preferring silence, but for this one, I suggest you do as the author says. Also, keep some tissues and food with you. This story is major in mystery and minor in horror but otherwise full of SS fluff.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady, if a bit confusing (but that's why it's mystery)

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Kyuro : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

“Oh,” says Naruto, “well, its sort of like that. Except in this village, the story has a way more darker ending – it basically goes like this: the girl and the guy plan to run away together. The guy steals a bunch of treasure, and stashes it away. But then, when he goes to get the girl at her village, he kills her and decides to run away with all that money. But then he is killed by the guards of the girls village and now they're both dead and the treasure is hidden away somewhere”. Sasuke stares blankly at the blond, “that story makes no sense”.

My thoughts : I know you must be thinking the same thing as Sasuke – "makes no sense". I did too, but it's a pretty cool short story. It lies on the funny, creepy side that slowly starts to lose its funny touch. SS makes stupid mistakes later on but it could be because they are MCs. The ending is very ambiguous. It's not my favorite mystery but it is something. Enjoyable read but not something I will pick again.

Writing: 8/10

Characters: 8/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Fast

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Moon stuttering in the sky : xfrinz || T || AO3 || Gen || Mystery || Pre-Shippuden || One-shot

Kakashi is suspicious of many things about Haruno Sakura. Too many things about her don't make sense, with too many incongruous explanations.

My thoughts : Author of this story just summarised Pre-Shippuden in less than 4k words and made some tiny changes to it. Not much though. One of my favorite gen fics yet. Read it if you haven't yet. You'll feel more sad than thrilled tbh. But worth it.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: I-am-Speed

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Breath mints : silver_shot || T || AO3 || SasuSaku || Comedy-Mystery || Post-Canon || Ongoing (maybe)

Their home no longer exists with the life it once had – in fact no settlement thrives anymore; they exist only in a snapshot that contradicts time itself. Families within their own homes sleep in a slumber that they cannot wake from. Those that were chatting on the street prior to the event simply drop their heads and remain unresponsive.

My thoughts : I picked it up for Mystery but I stayed for Comedy. But of course that's not to say supernatural elements in this story is not it, but it sure pales in comparison to effortless humor in this story. Lee and Kiba pair is something you don't see often but they get along too well here. Charactisation is on point as well. SS angst! + NS angst (but it's downplayed)

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Steady

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The Curse : sincerelyLen || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Horror || Post-Canon || Ongoing

Team 7 is unexpectedly assigned an S-Ranked Mission involving an unsolved mystery of 10 years. An eerie adventure that will test their teamwork, strengths, and greatest fears. Do you believe in Curses?

My thoughts : My all-time favourite horror Naruto fanfiction. To me, this sets the standard of how mystery and horror elements should be handled. I have never been able to get this story out of my mind even it's been years. Perfect charactisation of Team 7 with Smart-yet-Stupid!Sakura, I-can-fight-aliens-and-reanimated-corpses-but-keep-ghosts-away-from-me!Naruto and I-dont-get-paid-enough-for-this!Sasuke. I especially love OCs here. They kinda reminds me of Pillars from KnY. You must read this story, loosely based on Zombie apocalypse + curse concept.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-Steady

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Silent High : Istoria || T || FFN || Gen || Mystery || Post-Canon || Complete

A bit of the Silent Hill series mixed in with Naruto. Trapped in an illusion whose rules are unknown, they struggle to find answers before darkness consumes them.

My thoughts : One of the best mystery fanfictions I've read. I especially loved how this story handled Genjutsu in the best possible way it could without it turning into some cliche, ghost story. Though really, this story has shown what my greatest fear actually is. I will never be able to leave my back open to a wheelchair. This story has simple writing yet it gives you creeps with the twists and turns. A must read one because it is unlike any other in this list.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Silence of the Damned : Daystar Clarion || T || FFN || Gen || Psychological Horror, Mystery(?) || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

When Naruto wakes up to a dead body in his bathroom, he begins a quick spiral into madness.

My thoughts : Listen to Halsey's Control while reading this. Quite chilling, deals with mental issues and morbid but in a fascinating way. It gives a new meaning to Dark!Naruto, but one that actually makes sense. I never saw the ending coming... I had something else in mind and I was convinced it would be, but nope. Here's a sequel to this One-Shot (Uzumaki's War) which I never picked up.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 9/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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To the Victor : Letta || T || FFN || NaruSaku || Psychological Horror || Shippuden || One-Shot

Naruto loses the fight and Sakura is a trophy of war.

My thoughts : A very twisted NS, if you squint. It's not horror but it might as well be... it is still a disturbing story to see from the eyes of Sakura. Quite chilling to be in Sakura's shoes. But I love this because it is one shot and I loved the ending.

Writing: 9/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 8/10

Flow: Steady

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Under the Skin : BukkakeNoJutsu || T || FFN || Team 8 || Body Horror || Pre-Shippuden || One-Shot

Your actions don't make you a monster. Your reasons do.

My thoughts : There's a reason why Shino is my favourite team 8 member. In my opinion, Shino is also one of the strongest Shinobi of his generation. His clan techniques are just that horrifying. This story is testament to that. He is so terrible.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 10/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow-but-steady

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Instant Message : Keelah || T || FFN || SasuSaku || Murder mystery || Modern AU || Incomplete

She gave him names to kill, in order not to be killed herself. But having blood on her hands was turning out to be much worse than dying. "…There's still round 2…3…4…" When does this game end? She asked. "Don't you see, Sakura?" He said, "It never does."

My thoughts : I read this story a long time ago and have read this twice. Personally, it has the most interesting concept of all stories in the list. It reminds me of Vocaloid series, "Bookmark of the end". Kind of. To those who are thinking of picking this up, go ahead! It's a great book and has one of the best suspense I've read in Fandom. BUT, it has been stopped in mother-of-all-cliffhangers and Author is MIA for 4 years now. But, all things considered, it remains to be one of the best stories I've read.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Steady

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Monomoth : Ohtze || M || FFN/AO3 || SasuSaku || Horror || AU || Incomplete

Everything ends, eventually. Eight years after the war, Sakura's unhinged and Sasuke's obsessed. The fields are filled with corpses.

My thoughts : I read this story right after "The Curse", my favourite. From what I remember, Sakura and Sasuke are both mentally deranged, in different ways. Lots of death and gore to stomach, so not for weak readers. There's no speak of fluff in this one. Zero, Zilch, Nada. I wouldn't call it your classic 'Horror', but it is very disturbing, so psychological horror is more like it. Don't eat food while reading this one. Did I mention how Sakura is mentally disturbed beyond help in this one? And Sasuke is obsessed. If these suit your tastes, go ahead.

Writing: 10/10

Characters: 9/10

Plot: 10/10

Flow: Slow

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I hope you enjoy this list. Let me know your opinion in comments.

[imagine-loki]

Threats and Collateral

TITLE: Threats and Collateral CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-Shot  AUTHOR:  wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him.

RATING: General Audience NOTES/WARNINGS: None

Loki scowled at the contraption around his neck, limiting his power. Looking around the containment area, there were many creatures and beings with similar around their own necks. Since being captured by the TVA, he had been stripped of his armoured clothes and placed in grotesque and frankly uncomfortable attire and given food that he assumed the palace hounds would turn their noses up at.

He was yet to be spoken to by anyone of notable seniority as to what was the counts of which he was being held. They mentioned him altering the timeline but nothing more. He had to wait until he had a trial to know what was going to happen. Or so he thought.

Loki never liked being manhandled, as most beings tended not to, but being grabbed and forcibly handcuffed made him eye those around him carefully. The guards that did so, did it quickly while another man stood back and watched studiously which brought Loki’s attention to him. There was no manner to age the man in front of him, not with where he was, so there was no telling if he could defeat him or not in hand-to-hand combat, though being handcuffed and collared also was to his disadvantage.

“Follow me.”

That was all the man said before turning to walk towards one of the elevators that dotted the walls of the room Loki was in. He had known better than to attempt to go near one before, the singed clothing and black burns on the floor and the unconscious what he assumed to be corpses of different beings telling him to do so without authorisation was not to be recommended.

Though he did not trust the official of the TVA, Loki knew that whatever they wanted, they had no reason to burn him as they would not be so dim as to do so in such a fashion, ergo, he followed sceptically. Passing through the white line on the floor without being harmed and into the metal contraption to bring him to Norns’ knows where in the building.

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully.

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment.

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“I know exactly what this place is.” Loki interrupted. “The Time Keepers have built quiet the circus and I see that the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.” “Big metaphor guy. I love it. It makes you sound smart.” “I am smart.” “I know.” “Okay.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

Mobius replayed the footage of Loki taking the Tesseract and explained how that was not the original timeline and then showed him what his actual timeline was, the events on Asgard with the Aether and the Dark Elves, him taking the throne under the guise of Odin, Odin’s death, the return of Hela, the destruction of Asgard and finally, the less than comfortable scene were Thanos choked him and snapped his neck in one fell swoop. With an unconscious rubbing of his throat, he looked at the agent across from him. “And you want me to help you because?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.”

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for…well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.”

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked.

“Something to that effect.” Loki thought over his options. “I am not interested.” “I thought you might say that.” Mobius activated his computer screen and clicked on buttons. With how he was doing it, Loki was suspicious that he was not actually typing anything at all but pretending to do so to try and get Loki to change his mind. But after a few moments, the elevator door behind them rung out and opened.

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her…you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately.

Mobius looked at them both as sat back slightly before pointing to Loki. “He’s the better liar.” “I told him not to do anything stupid and he thwarted that coronation and literally did the most stupid thing possible letting go at the Bifrost, so no, he would not do anything for me.” She glared over at Loki who looked at the table shamefully.

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again.

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.”

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly.

“How could it possibly not be affecting the timeline when having her being here instead of being where she would actually be is affecting the timeline?” “Because she is integral to getting you to fix the timeline,” Mobius argued. “But she was doing something when you took her, now that is not going to get done and that affects the timeline.” Loki countered.

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.”

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“I didn’t break it,” Loki explained. “Thor and his Midgardian friends went back in time because they wanted to change the future but I touched something I was not supposed to touch while they were doing that because their attempts to get it went awry because they are idiots, so technically, they broke the timeline and I am being forced to fix it because it apparently my touching the Tesseract goes against TVA rules but them going back in time and altering the whole future does not.”

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief.

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed.

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after.

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“Well, it’s not.” Both looked at Mobius sceptically. “So, you help us and everyone is happy.” Mobius clapped his hands together. “So, let’s get you started as an agent.” Mobius pressed a button and Loki fell through a portal in the floor. Mobius rose to his feet and straightened his jacket boredly. “These men will bring you to the guest rooms.” “I think I rather do something while I wait.” “I don’t think so.” “I wasn’t asking.” She gave a smile that said she would not be dissuaded. “This is a big place, I am sure you can find somewhere for me and good luck trying to control him.” She laughed before walking out of the room.

Mobius sighed. “I immediately regret this decision.” He rose to his feet and went into the elevator. After a few minutes, the doors opened to show Loki looking at him in a shirt, tie, jacket and pants. “That better?”

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him.

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.”

Loki said nothing in response.

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, in entirely different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in.

“I have to say,” Loki stepped towards him and centred his tie as he spoke. “I think it’s adorable that you think you can manipulate me. I am ten steps ahead of you.” “Is that right?” Mobius barely had a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Oh, it is.” Loki sneered. “Nor can she. Though, I am curious, where is she?” “Gone to dictate to whoever is stuck dealing with her.” Mobius looked straight ahead. “She will be fine.” “She had better, or else,” Loki snarled. “Or else what?” Mobius glanced sideways, no emotion in his voice.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile.

[jupitermelichios]

On a more possitive note, I’ve started watching Sword Art Online. It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever seen (and the last film I saw in cinemas was Cats to give you context for the scale i’m working on here) and I kind of adore it in much the same way I love garbage like Smallville or Twilight. It’s so stupid on so many levels. You could challenge someone to write the worst anime, and it would almost certainly be better than SAO. It’s almost hypnotic how terrible it is.

No one should watch this terrible terrible show so I therefore don’t feel at all bad that I’m about the spoil absolutely everything, but honestly if you do also hate-watch this please come talk to me about how terrible it is. I don’t know anyone else who watches it.

Highlights of Season 1 include:

everyone is trapped in an MMO, and if you die in the MMO you die IRL. but if you were a beta-tester you’re probably fine because they just let them keep all their levels and items from the testing, so they’re all massively OP and everyone just accepts this as a normal and non-game-breaking thing

it’s a fantasy MMO but there’s no races, no magic system, no weapons except swords and maces, and not even an option to dual wield - literally all you can do in this fucking game is stand in front of an enemy and mash the attack button. I’m pretty sure they’re trapped there because the devs realised no one would play this post launch-day otherwise because it’s boring as shit

when the villain traps everyone he also just changs all their avatars to look like they do IRL for absolutely no reason, like actually none, he doesn’t even say he thinks it would be funny, he just does it and no one questions it and it is literally never mentioned again because this is the worst TV show ever animated.

in the second episode the main character deliberately witholds information about how to defeat a boss, indirectly causing multiple deaths. there is absolutely no reason for him to withhold it, he was just being a jerk because he doesn’t like people

in the third episode they reset his entire personality and he’s now a selfless hero pretending to be a lower level than he really is so people will find him more relateable and be his friend because all he wants is to help people. this is not a consequence of episode 2, they just decided they didnt like the character as he’d previously been written.

he makes some new friends who are all objectively terrible people who have decided for no season that the twelve year old who doesn’t really know how to play and keeps having anxiety attacks about the very real possibility of death has to be the guild tank. the MC is high enough level to be functionally immortal in like half the levels, but doesn’t tell anyone this he just lets them go on bullying this child

none of his friends survive that episode, in the game or IRL. which is also a christmas epsiode. a child dies in battle because she’s a terrible tank and then a man commits suicide out of guilt, so then the main character murders santa to try and bring them back from the actual dead but it doesn’t work because again, this is a video game and they are dead IRL, so then he walks off into the snow alone. Christmas!

we meet the best character in the entire show in episode 4, Rosalia, who has gone evil and started just straight murdering people because she’s sick of being an attractive adult woman who can’t get a date because she’s surrounded by lolicons who are only interested in the preteen characters (not a joke, that comes up, the show is firmly on the side of the lolicons)

in the same episode we get an extended bra and panty sequence staring an actual fucking child, like canonically this character is maybe 13 at best. this is one of only 2 occaisions when they feel the need to undress a character and it’s the fucking 12 year old, it’s so gross it reads like a parody of itself

literally every single named female character aged over 8 who talks to the MC falls in love with him after like 5 minutes (and in season 2 this includes his actual sister). he shows absolutely no interest in any of them (including his sister, thank god) until...

the main character gets engaged to a girl he only knows from an MMO after a virtual single date (he doesn’t actually win her in a PVP match but only because he looses the match, he 100% canonically tries to win her in a match, which she is apparently fine with). he then doesn’t bother to ask for her real name until the final episode, he just calls her by her screen name

(that’s okay though becuase it turns out that this moron of a love interest used her real name, on a local server, in a game where your character looks like you do IRL, because apparently getting doxxed is her hobby)

they then get in-game married off screen. there’s not even like a still of a wedding photo. nothing. the main character proposes and then the show immediately jumps to the honeymoon, it’s fucking bizarre.

they find a creepy child dressed all in white with no memory alone in the woods a week into their honeymoon who starts calling them mommy and daddy literally seconds after they first meet her, and they don’t suspect anything suss is going on and adopt her

for hilarity bear in mind the main character may only be 15 at this point (he says he’s only just turned 16 in the last epsiode, but his actual birthday is never mentioned), and his virtual wifu is 16, but no one ever questions the marriage or the adoption, even though ‘hey marriage in a video game is as important and meaningful as marriage in real life’ is an actual conversation people have multiple times. also they think the child they adopt is an actual IRL 8 year old who thinks these randos she met in an MMO are her mum and dad and everyone just goes with that like it’s a totally normal thing

a character called ‘Thinker’ agrees to meet an enemy faction leader for peace talks. the “peace talks” take place in a high level dungeon and he is told to come alone with no weapons and no fast travel. he does this. no one ever comments that his name is ironic, and in fact they seem to think that being betrayed and trapped in a dungeon with a boss is a totally unexpected turn of events Thinker could never have planned for

they take their new baby into the dungeon to rescue thinker, because they went to the jean grey school of baby rearing, and she imediately reveals that she’s actually a magical maggufin with infinite power, murders the grim reaper, and then dies. In literally the second episode she’s in

after she dies the MC hacks the admin account of the game, converts her corpse into an in game item, and saves to the local storage on his console, with the intention of bringing her back to life as a robot once they’re saved from the game. I’m not joking, that’s an actual thing that happens.

the fact that the main character can just access the main admin account and make massive game-breaking changes isn’t used again in that game and he never thinks to try and use it to force log people out or give himself infinite life so he can just rush the game and free everyone. nope, convert a corpse into an item and then never think about it again.

there’s an entire episode where all they do is go fishing. its the only filler episode in the season, and it immediately follows the death of a small child. it’s the most tone-deaf beach episode in writing history

it turns out this game, this game where they didn’t bother coding in any difference races, weapons, or any kind of magic system, was intended to have fully sentient AI therapists, because why the fuck not at this point honestly

oh also the game has PVP and you can trick the game into thinking a sleeping player is in PVP with you in order to actually murder a real person without it flagging in-game as a murder making the crime impossible for the real life legal system to investigate even though you just murdered a person. and they expect us to believe this game had actual beta testers. at least cyberpunk wasn’t played on microwaves you connected straight to your brain (also not a joke, the VR consoles canonically work by sending microwave radiation into your brain, no wonder VR never caught on)

the set up for the show is that they have to reach level 100 of a dungeon in order to win. At level 75, the writers got bored and the show just ends.

it turns out the power of love allows you to just break the fucking game and the main villain literally has a line about how ‘love allows you to remove debuffs, huh, we didn’t think to plan for that’ because again, there’s no metaphors in this show, everything is 100% literal including the fact that falling in love with another player means you’re immune to the paralysis status effect

power of love also allows you to very briefly become a poltergeist after being killed, but only for like 2 seconds. again not a joke or a metaphor, main character is killed but then gets to hang around as a ghost for a little bit to enable him to defeat the boss. he also doesn’t die in real life despite that being the entire fucking premise of the show, again because power of love.

the bad guy literally has no plan, he’s just doing shit for the sake of having something to do. His actions directly cause the deaths of more than 4,000 people, and it’s not even in aid of anything. they ask him why he trapped 10,000 people in an MMO and allowed them to slowly die, and he’s just like ‘huh, i forgot i did that, random’ and then just fucking peaces out

the fact that he committed one of the largest mass killings outside of war never really comes up again, as far as we know he doesn’t even go to jail. i think the show actually kind of thinks he’s a good guy, which is a fucking WILD moral stance to take on the deaths of 4000 completely innocent people for absolutely no reason

If this sounds hilari-bad but you don’t want to invest the time to watch a show which is objectively garbage, it has an abridged series which is famously better than the show it’s parodying (i’m dead serious, people have character arcs, the getting married after one date thing is properly addressed, the mc has to deal with PTSD because of all his friends dying in epsidode 3, they don’t immediately follow the death of a child with an extended fishing montage, the villain has an actual plan). It’s mostly actually pretty good, but this is the internet and it’s an abridged series, so while there are a lot fewer yikes moments than most it still has enough that I’m not comfortable recommending it without the caveat. that said I still enjoyed it a lot, although possibly not at much as pointing and laughing at the garbage that is the actual show.

[schmergo]

People really need to try and, like, READ a book before they try to correct people about it.

Once again, a silly tumblr post I wrote about Frankenstein (the one about calling Frankenstein's creation 'Frankenstein's lil boi') has made its way to a popular facebook page and everyone is coming out of the woodwork trying to sound smart, but I am concerned a lot of them are actually posting from a parallel universe or something because they... are saying some silly stuff.

First of all, my BIGGEST pet peeve, is people smugly saying that actually his name is Adam. I counted and 6 people independently asserted this. And in response to one of the comments, people said things like, "It's the name he chose for himself 😭" and "Adam is the name he gives to the blind people he lives with. His name is Adam." 

WHAT THE HECKAROO, GUYS? The creation is simply going through a bit of a Milton fanboy phase. He reads 'Paradise Lost' while secretly observing and learning from a blind man and his family (not a whole blind family, mind you) and feels struck by identification to some of the characters.

I did a search in the virtual edition of Frankenstein and these are the instances when the name 'Adam' comes up:

"Like Adam, I was apparently united by no link to any other being in existence; but his state was far different from mine in every other respect. He had come forth from the hands of God a perfect creature, happy and prosperous, guarded by the especial care of his Creator; he was allowed to converse with and acquire knowledge from beings of a superior nature, but I was wretched, helpless, and alone. Many times I considered Satan as the fitter emblem of my condition, for often, like him, when I viewed the bliss of my protectors, the bitter gall of envy rose within me."

"Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend."

"No Eve soothed my sorrows nor shared my thoughts; I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him."

He's saying that he SHOULD have been like Adam, the first man created by God, but instead, due to Victor's rejection, he relates more to Satan, who was cast out of God's favor. How are people not getting that he's not literally naming himself Adam?

(Side note regarding commonly held literary tidbits that aren't the case in the original book-- a lot of people also confuse Paradise Lost with the Bible by saying that Satan is a fallen angel... the Bible never specifically says that. But that's a rant for another day!)

Other weird things people in the comments said:

"He killed a little girl and threw her in a lake!" 

What the heck? He saved a little girl from drowning in a river and her father thought he was trying to drown her and shot him instead. That was, like, the moment he realized no matter how much good he did, people would always think he was evil.

"He poisons a little boy!"

...No, he strangles his victims. It says there was a mark on the victims' necks. He just happened upon Frankenstein's little brother, got really mad, and strangled him-- he didn't have time to plan out an attack and make or obtain poison. Why would you poison someone if you were a super-strong giant?

Weirdest of all, someone said, "Not to mention the creature has a mental breakdown when Frankenstein dies from old age."

...What? Victor Frankenstein is a young man in the book-- in fact, he's in undergrad when he first makes the creature. He dies after trekking through the arctic for the creature. All of his sled dogs have died, he's endured exposure, exhaustion, mental strain, he's feverish and clearly unwell after being rescued and continues to pursue the creature. 

Also, fortunately nobody on the post said this, but people on tumblr have commented to say that the Creature was actually described as beautiful in the book. Uh... nope. If he was beautiful, why would people instinctively react to him with so much fear, disgust, and hatred? Victor Frankenstein DESIGNED him to be beautiful. He didn't do a great job of it. The text from the book says, "How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful! Great God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun-white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips."

SO BASICALLY, he picked the most beautiful features possible (from corpses), but unfortunately, when he animated the creature to life, he still looked... like a dead guy. He was so focused on each detail of what he was doing that he wasn't looking at the big picture of what he'd created until it came to life and still didn't look like a normal person. I know the paragraph is a little confusing, but he's listing the beautiful things about him, but then he says, "But unfortunately, despite having naturally good features, he was clearly a rotting decomposing corpse, but living and breathing and moving, and let me tell ya, that is DISTURBING." 

Anyway, to make a long story short, maybe read the actual book before you try to prove how smart you are on a silly Tumblr post about it? Or don't quote selective passages like 'I ought to be thy Adam' or 'I had selected his features as beautiful' without reading the surrounding sentences. Reading comprehension is important!

I know this may sound super pedantic, but all I did was make a silly joke without taking the book itself too seriously and everyone had to swoop in and 'well actually' me about the book, so yeah, I am going to 'well actually' right back at them.

[feralphoenix]

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

sup hollow knight fandom, i’m back with the picante takes again after having Noticed A Thing.

as with my previous essays i’ll put this guy up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes, since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. i will attach that in a reblog at a later point.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses canon-typical body horror and bodily boundary violations, with some side mentions of colonialism.

all game screencaps are mine. the screencap of the wiki is from the “developer notes” (style guide) section of the “cut content” page.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

We understand more or less how the Pale King’s plan was supposed to work. Stuff Radiance into a no-thoughts-head-empty and silent Pure Vessel to trap, isolate, and silence her, both putting an end to the Infection and killing her for good. Stick that vessel in the Black Egg, which harnesses Void BS to both keep the vessel alive indefinitely and to cover Hallownest (and its neighbors) in a time-defying stasis so that the Pale King could successfully hoard his favorite shiny FOREVER, threatened by nothing. Then put a seal on the Black Egg to prevent anyone from getting inside and harming said vessel while it’s strung up and helpless. And THEN, put protective seals on the anchors (the Dreamers) to the Black Egg seal to protect them from any external harm: The stasis means the Dreamers won't die of old age or starvation.

All in all, a pretty foolproof plan!

...except that the Dreamers are still vulnerable to having their minds breached with the moths’ magic... and the Pale King failed to take into account that his Pure Vessel was a person actually and the amount of toxic stress his training/upbringing put on them made them REALLY POORLY SUITED FOR THEIR JOB... and also that killing 99% of his million children and turning the Abyss into a landfill for baby corpses would take enough of an emotional toll on his wife and #1 enabler the White Lady that she would walk out on him, ensuring he’d only ever have one shot at this whole deal...

Basically it’s the sort of plan that an emotionally constipated, low-empathy sort of guy who pours all his points into INT and has a big fat zero for WIS might think is foolproof. It has big holes in it that the Pale King did not consider to be big holes until he got owned by the various consequences of his actions and fell down said big holes, making the shocked pikachu face all the while. Rip in die, my guy.

Anyway, there’s a lot of incidental information scattered about the game that gives us more insight into the stages of TPK’s plan. Looking at Monomon’s notes in the Archive suggests that she was probably involved in designing the Black Egg; the hidden room in the Weavers’ den points to their being the ones to blueprint the Dreamer seal; the White Palace’s hidden rooms reveal both TPK’s morbid fascination with the Void and his mea culpa wrt his motives and the Path of Pain is certainly suggestive of a lot of things. The White Lady tells us straight out that she walked out on the Pale King because she wanted no part in a second vessel batch, but how TPK didn’t handle that is only revealed via map design and some incidental dialogue from the Old Stag.

This stuff presents us with, if not a full picture, then at least a decent connect-the-dots of certain aspects of crater politics and Pale Court drama at the time, and how exactly TPK’s plan came together.

But there is still one glaring question that these cookie crumbs do not provide us an answer to:

Who shall bell the cat?

How did TPK et al manage to stuff Radiance into Hollow in the first place?

This is the subject of a lot of memes and jokes within the fandom because it's so absurd. Radiance fuckin hates that dude! She’s probably gonna be pretty wary of him considering how he stole her people in the first place! And considering the anti-colonialism slant of the writing - beyond the general sympathetic view Team Cherry gives of each indigenous bug society, Seer makes it very clear that Radiance has very good reason to take violent action against Hallownest - the answer is probably not something like “she’s just that stupid” or “she rolled a crit fail”.

Well... I have an idea of how TPK managed to get Radiance in there. It raises about as many questions as it answers, mind, but it may be someplace to start.

[desc: the hollow knight's entry in the hunter’s journal. top text/ghost’s comment reads: “Fully grown Vessel, carrying the plague’s heart within its body.” bottom text/hunter’s comment says: “The old King of Hallownest... he must have been desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others... all for nothing.”]

Here we have Hollow’s bestiary entry. Most of what we’re concerned with here is the top text, which says the seal has literally trapped Radiance inside their body. (First of all, ew, TPK.)

We already knew Radiance is literally actually inside Hollow, though: The Infection is leaking out of their body, and to get to fight Radiance, Ghost has to go traipsing into their sibling’s mind. So what’s significant about that here?

[desc: screencap of the outside of the black egg temple, post-infected crossroads. there are large infection blobs in the foreground and background, connected to each other by veins that come from inside the temple.]

The infection blobs are weird and get weirder if you kill enough Lightseeds for the Hunter to tell you their origin story, i.e. that the literal actual sun has been having a very long bad day and cried a lot, and some of the liquid coalesced into living flesh, and some of that living flesh took on a mind of its own to become Lightseeds. (Hollow Knight is a WILD place.)

Lightseeds are Radiance’s accidental children and share a lot of her traits: They are harmless creatures that try to avoid conflict if possible but if pushed will get creative and find ways to fight regardless of their physical limitations. (For the Lightseeds this involves hiding inside Broken Vessel’s corpse and puppeting it around to try to stab you.) They even have her same distinctive yell. And according to the Hunter, they’re born from the infection blobs. These enemies only ever appear in the Ancient Basin, which both Radiance and the Void have ransacked, and in the Infected Crossroads.

The infection blobs are connected to and sort of a weird extension of Radiance because the Infection itself is sort of a weird extension of Radiance. In the game’s internal style guide Team Cherry explains that the Infection started as an accident, not her original intention but what happened when Hallownest tried to block her out.

[desc: screencap from the wiki of style notes attached to seer that describe a sketch of radiance’s finalized backstory. text reads: “The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a god/monarch with no other gods. The moths sealed Radiance away by forgetting about her. Hallownest was born and flourished. However, the memory of Radiance lingered (eg [sic] the statue at hallownest’s crown) and soon she began to reappear in dreams and starting [sic] exerting influence. The King and the bugs of Hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the Infection. Thus the first attempt to seal Radiance failed, and the King had to try another method - the Vessel.” emphasis mine.]

Some fans have posited the blobs as deposits of pupa juice, but given Team Cherry's description of the Infection’s origins I don’t know how likely that is. Since the Void also sticks its squamous tentacles into things via veiny looking things and the Nightmare’s Heart has similar veiny nonsense in the Nightmare Realm, I wonder if it isn’t just a Meddly God Shit thing in general.

Whatever the case, the blobs are very much connected to/a part of Radiance.

And when you’re hanging around them, you will notice two things: They pulse like they’re part of a circulatory system, and you can hear Radiance's heartbeat emanating from them.

[desc: screencap of the game’s title screen with the infected menu theme in use: a glowing orange ball at the center of a lot of black tendony webbing.]

Let’s also think of the Infected menu theme, which you unlock after getting either of the endings where Ghost takes over from Hollow and absorbs Radiance out of them. Ghost is infected and then sealed inside the Black Egg in Hollow's place. It’s suggested by the animation’s staging that Radiance briefly struggles to get out of Ghost after absorbed but is ultimately stuck in them, at which point the seal is reestablished.

If you haven’t used the Infected menu theme yourself, the... interesting thing about it is that it moves organically. The light ball expands and contracts - y’know, sort of like a living organ - and so does the black webby stuff around it.

Also, Radiance’s heartbeat is included in the theme's ambiance.

[desc: hollow’s bestiary entry again]

To cut to the chase, this part of Hollow’s bestiary entry that says “the plague’s heart”? I don’t think that’s just Ghost/Team Cherry being poetic. I think there’s a good chance it’s LITERAL.

I think TPK is the sort of person who could cram a native woman’s literal living beating heart inside his own child’s body so they can use it as... say, a focus to absorb and trap her mind/spirit inside their body, too. Mr. No Cost Too Great is capable of a lot in the name of keeping other people’s claws off his Big Shiny kingdom. This is kind of his whole brand.

But also, like, yuck.

This fits the worldbuilding too; generally speaking Hollow Knight is Body Horror City. Also there’s the case of Grimm: While he and Radiance are loose counterparts at best with WILDLY disparate outlooks and ethoses, his existence serves as precedent that a Higher Being’s heart specifically can be separate from the rest of them.

As I said before, though, this DOES raise as many questions as it answers. If this is another piece in the puzzle of how TPK belled the cat, we’re now left wondering how he got Radiance’s heart to use as Hollow's focus to begin with.

We know he has access to the Dream Realm because that’s ultimately where he hid when Hollow’s seal failed, but who did he send to do the stealing and how did they get away with it? (TPK certainly wouldn’t have gone; his own life’s the one cost too great for him to willingly pay.) Was Radiance’s heart separate from her like the Nightmare’s Heart, or was it a part of her body? (I think the latter is more likely just from her personality; Grimm’s hidden heart makes sense because of how he keeps even his own servants at arm’s length emotionally, whereas Radiance is all heart all the time. I think this makes more sense with their equal opposites schtick too. But this would make for a WAY riskier mission.)

I can imagine all kinds of possibilities. None of them are definitive, but the thing they have in common is that they are all Awful... and how on-brand that is for Hollow Knight as a whole is, maybe, the most persuasive argument for It’s Literally Actually Her Real Physical Heart there could be.

[paversandplatters]

||𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (5/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Reader x multiple

Chapter 5: A Flock Found

They pack a wheel barrow to the brim with the newly acquired supplies they find not botheringing to leave behind much of anything, making sure to cop the twenty five gallon container of gasoline from the tool shed out back behind the building... Lord knows they'll need for the grand task ahead of them. By the time the light in the south western sky began to fade from a light gray to pink over the backwaters of the panhandle they're ready. They slip outside through the rectory's side door and creep single file along the edge of the property. Y/n takes the lead, periodically glancing over her shoulder for any sign of the herd that had crossed the highway or any sign of the group that occupied this space all too recently. She carries a glock with a full magazine just in case. The dusky air gets clammy and cool on the back of the stranger's neck as he follows them to the car. They climb in hurriedly, stowing their provisions in the rear cargo bay. Y/n kicks the engine on as the newcomer clambers into the passenger seat next to her- much to the dismay of the other two- unfolding an old dogeared map.

"They usually stick pretty close to the ocean." He says almost to himself, silently calculating the mileage between them and the gulf. "Probably should start down by Perry or Carwfordville." He senses movement ahead of them through the windshield and glances up in time to see a couple of jagged shadows emerging from the woods about a hundred yards away, drawn to the sound of their engine. Garbled growls can be heard over the drone of crickets. The trace smell of garbage on the breeze, the light and space of the outdoors is almost overwhelming to him. He feels like he's been asleep for a hundred years, locked away in that dank and dirty church- he starts to feel dizzy.

Y/n gooses the accelerator and the SUV lurches away. He sinks into his seat as they roar down the road, swerving to avoid the half dozen or so biters now skulking out of the woods blocking their path. They sideswipe one the creatures, ripping a chunk of its shoulder, splattering fresh gore across the glass of his side window.

"You get used to it." she states after he flinches in disgust. He just stares at the splatter, flecks of bone chips, and a long trail of black bile.

"I don't think anyone can get used to that ..." Nick mutters from the back seat.

Night falls and the darkness deepens behind the trees on either side of the road. Most of the streetlights in this part of the country have gone the same way as the internet or cable TV, so the road only gets darker and darker as they head south towards the steaming thickets and festering swamps of the coastal lowlands. The going is slow, most of the two lanes are crowded with rusted out wreckages ,the carcasses of cars and trucks so old now that the weeds and switchgrass have begun to grow up from their metal endoskeletons. The two young men in the rear breathe heavily, thickly, half asleep while Y/n drives and softly hums some forgotten tune. They had passed the jerky and water around a few minutes ago- their standard fare of supper- and now their bellies growl and their eyelids droop with exhaustion.

"You never gave your name..." His hushed voices rings out from the shotgun seat.

"Hadn't crossed my mind at the time, sorry about that... It's Y/n" She chuckles softly. "The one with the headband is Nick but goes by Sapnap, don't ask i don't know- the other one with the accent is George." he just simply hums in reply.

"What about you big guy? What do they call you?"

He takes a moment to regard the woman seated next to him; his head still trying to wrap itself around this complete stranger who's shown him nothing but kindness. On the one hand, she seems trustworthy enough, friendly, a good listener, courteous and capable of single handedly taking out an entire chapel full of reanimated corpses... On the other hand she seems like a walking time bomb. He'd seen her type before- they type that's too kind until something or someone breaks that trust. A hairline trigger. The sad fact is he doesn't have a large array of options. Staying in that hellhole of a church with those enslavers, listening to the groans of the dead, waiting for whatever those bastards would do next quickly loses its charm... Seeing the aftermath of her cleaning house with that knife had given him an odd charge- a cathartic release. He's also aware that he'd never be able to find the caravan on his own given the sorry state he's in. He really has no choice but to go along with her and her scruffy ass men and hope for the best.

"I don't have a name.. that is, one that I can remember.."

She desperately wants to pry, how could he not remember his own name? But the thousand yard stare and glassy gaze is enough to stop her from inquiring any further. "Well we've gotta call you something big guy." She's met with silence in response. "Alright, I guess Big Guy it is then." He offers only a meek hum in response. In an attempt to silence his own raging thoughts his eyes landed on the red bandanna tied to the rearview mirror for what was probably the hundredth time since he started on this way too long car ride.

"... What's that about?" He points to the red scarf.

"It belonged to a friend of mine a long while back, before Sapnap and George were a thing." Her hands tighten their hold on the wheel. "I was caught by 'traders' and he was stuck in the same hole as me... Couldn't have been any older than fourteen at the time. One night the compound was under attack, their front gate was breached- luckily we were kept at the very back end, so when the opportunity came we managed to escape our holding cell and I hoisted him over the wall. Told him to keep running, to not look back. He got away but I was caught again," She takes in a deep breath before resuming her story.

"I was quickly sold off to some asshole who had these two chained up for breaking into their stores... one thing led to another and we snuck out and snagged this ride... we've been moving around since." It was obvious by her tone there was a lot she was leaving out and probably for a good reason. Notably the two in the back seat were dead silent, so much so that it made the air feel heavy and dense enough to cut with a sharp enough knife. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't bothered to ask in the first place

"That sign back there," He manages, desprate to break the heavy air "Said 'Cross city 12 miles" He glances up from the map in his lap, gazing out the side window at the stewing darkness of Dixie County Florida. "Got a feeling we're getting close."

The vast patchwork of wetlands passes in a blur on either side of them. The land oozing a low blanket of methane as gray as mold, clinging to the shadows of pine thickets and gullies like dirty lace. The air smells briny and rotten with dead fish. Every few minutes they pass the ruins of a small town or wreckage strewn trailer parks. No sign of survivors in these parts, though only the occasional silhouette of an upright corpse shambling by, it's eyes like twin yellow reflectors in the darkness.

"We can't just keep burning gas all night." Sapnap says from his place in the rear, his voice all cranked up with pain and panic "and we can't just go off of what you overheard those traders talking about- Much less go off of feelings.." Big guy just keeps a neural face.

"We're in the ballpark" He persists "Believe me they'll be hard to miss." Y/n grips the steering wheel, her jaw working overtime on a piece of gum, snapping and chewing complusively as she drives.

"How many vehicles do they have in this convoy?" George questions between wheezy breaths.

"No idea... but it's quite a few ."

"That's pretty general."

"They'll be easy to spot." He replies once more, gazing back out at the darkness. "Our best bet is to follow the coast, they like to keep close to the water.."

"Why's that?"

He shrugs. "According to those 'traders' they keep their eyes peeled for ships or any possible way they might get their asses the hell out of here. Most of the bigger boats around here have been destroyed by the hurricane that hit a couple years ago, so it's a long shot that they'll find anything..."

They're about to give up the search when they start to climb the gentle slope- at first so gradual it's almost unnoticeable - up the side of a vast malodorous landfill- the barren trash-strewn scrubland to their left reaches across miles of sandy berms, all the way down to the deserted ghostly boardwalks that wind their way along the beaches. The sky has begun to bruise pink with predawn light and Y/n has just started to say something when the Big Guy sees the first faint streaks of red dots in the distant haze.

"LOOK!" He points his large gnarled hand down at the far dunes of ashen white sand winding along the coast. The surface is so pocked and windswept it resembles the dark side of the moon.

"Where?" She cranes her neck, slowing the vehicle down to a crawl.

"I don't see anything."

"About Half a mile up there... Look at the tail lights!"

She takes a deep cleansing breath as she finally sees the caravan chugging along the coastal road in the predawn light, it looks like embers throwing up puffs of smoke in their wake.

"Holy shit, I see it." A big smile washes over her face, Glad she decided to follow through with this insane plan.

"What do you think of those boys?" The two young men in the rear lean forward, transfixed by the sight, each of them rapt and silent as they gaze at the convoy.

"What are you doing?! Blaster your horn at them," George stutters anxiously. "Don't let them get away !"

Y/n smiles to herself, in her former life she used to be fascinated by the wildlife shows, often catching them in the late night showings after work before she turning in for the night. She remembers one episode in particular, on the behavior of sheep vs the behavior of wolves. She remembers the flock mentality; the sheep moving almost as one, easily managed by a single sheepdog. She remembers the instinct of the Wolf, stealthy, patient as it and its pack creep up on the flock. She shoots a glance across the dark interior at the larger man sat next to her before turning her head to face the two sat behind them.

"I have a better idea."

Taglist

@the-wandering-pan-ace @hvrcruxes

[floxalopex]

I don't know if somebody already did this specifically. But yh the heck let's go.

WARNING 1: THIS IS NOT A POST FOR SENSITIVE PEOPLE AND/OR MINORS. (it contains gore and sexual themes and more).

And yes, SALT. Lots of salt.

WARNING 2: this has nothing to do with Christianity specifically. Atheism isn't hate towards your god(s) and/or its believers. Although there are many forms of atheism (some of which are so strong and violent they make me furious) think about mine as a general form of indifference. I hate the Church state, yes, but sorry I have that "at home" so please don't blame me. I don't like Abrahamic religions in general, but I've grown up with one.

I'm thankfully not a cult survivor, but I can understand some things.

WARNING 3: living in a very religious contest I have many beloved friends and relatives (starting with my mother) who believe in their god a lot. So if my words are too disrespectful tell me, I really don't want to hurt anybody.

Okay.

So.

I've seen many similarities between the cult Horde Prime put his clones in and your very average, very white, very western idea of Christianity.

1) Theophagy:

First of all, I really don't know much how this thing is lived in other Christian countries, but in mine they put a lot of emphasis on the Eucharist.

As far as I've seen I think it's pretty obvious how much in ancient cultures there's a very carnal and very grounded idea of the spirit. That can result in believing the soul to be the "psyche", so literally "the breath of life", the coordination of your sinapsis togheter (to me a very poetic definition of how our whole being ourselves is just us being our central nervous system) or it can lead to you eating the ashes of your granpa so you get his good qualities (something some cultures still do today). They said that the head of Orpheus was buried in the island of Lesbo and that's why its land was filled with amazing poets like Sappho. There's this very, sorry, brutal idea of the embodyment of the soul, the talents of a person, that even a piece of corpse is considered a magic thingy.

This is no different in the very old, very ancient, very rural Christian religion (at least in the most common version of it, we have many flavours of one truth apperentely).

When I was in High School we studied a lot Bacchus and the Baccanalia, because there are several commedies about it. My teacher, being very religious, was almost ashamed to admit that a lot of acts of those festivities (let's say that the most normal thing was for women to give their milk to animal cubs) were actually not very dissimilar in their rawness to certain habits of the religion.

So, what about Horde Prime? (me *yh, what about it, stupid ADHD?*). I have seen a post in the past explaining that yes, even though spacebats have the dentition of a frugivore bat and not haematophagus bat, the scene of Prime recharging in his throne with all those disgusting cables filled with green liquid referred as "the life force" of his clones...well, it's surely something.

Looks like a sort of sci-fi vampire thing. Which is very cool and I love this headcanon. So again I kept thinking...what is THAT amniotic fluid? I am a student, so correct me if I say something wrong.

Amniotic fluid is a combination of water 99%, proteins, glucids, fats and some salts (...it's even effective for electric conduction...the heck is that pool).

The most similar body fluid is plasma, so blood less cells. Even the serum, so plasma less proteins, is very similar.

Now, stated that Prime is a manipulative jerk, stated that I don't know much about aliens' physiology, stated that that fluid can come from blood potentially, in Church they say this:

*and Jesus said: "This is my body/blood which I offer in sacrifice for you"*

Apart from it being very creepy, there's this idea in the whole religion-thingy: if you are human you are a selfish monster, so monstrous you made our Lord and Savior die for your sins for how messed up you were.

So basically you don't become a sinner, you are concived as one. Humanity is sin itself, it can never lead to something good.

So are the clones. That's why Prime, in his benevolence, feeds them with himself. To make them pure, to protect them from the outside world. To make them remember who their strenght comes from.

If you don't want to read all of this just go for the Futurama soda episode, it's basically the same thing. Bleah.

2) Corpse feticism and more.

Again, don't know you guys, but here we are filled with mummies. I went in a place in Palermo and ...my gosh why did I do that.

We have everything here, hands, heads, feet, teeth so many of them, dead babies, dead virgins, dead popes, dead elders, all of them for half the prize, but only if you call today.

We are. Filled. With these atrocities. At least we don't touch them anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if, apart from the "hygene", people in Middle Ages used to die at the honorable age of 13 also because they kissed those... thingies there.

So, can we please talk about Horde Prime collection of "previous selves"?

This man has a whole room filled with corpses of himself. In the Vatican you can find corpses of dead popes as well, preserved and even dressed in a very good way. In Italy in general we have these, I remember a whole room in a town near my city filled with skeletons of "saints". Personally I find it very disturbing because you are basically not allowing that body to rest and serve its last biological purpose, especially if you consider that most of these "saints" were mentally impared young kids who were killed brutally and died as "martyrs". In ancient Greece the WORST thing you could do to a corpse was to leave it unburied, without dignity.

It's getting darker now.

I like both headcanons for Prime, that of a spoiled (maybe even sexist) royal of a lost culture who wanted to conquer the universe and that of him being a sort of ancient evil spirit, but I personally like to stick with the latter.

Imagine the old bodies of the clones Prime used for himself. Pushed to their limits. Clones dying young is horrific as well, but like these people were forced to go on. Not to die. Not to age as much as possible. And now that they are dead they can't even rest. They are a show off for anyone to see. Their brains preserved and their literal dead flesh still tormented for reading.

One may ask me, then what about corpses in formalin for medical use? Well, one thing is a donor or a dead fetus or a corpse nobody claims. That's the story of the skeleton in my university, a young male who didn't eat much. A very lonely man. Well at least now he is well loved and appreciated, ah if only he knew that.

The point is, we respect them. We are grateful for the informations they give us. Gosh, I know I'm creepy, but I even cuddled one bone once. We know they probably suffered. Like, search for HeLa cells. That lady has my highest respect.

But Prime? Those are. Vessels. Just that.

Anyways, apart for the "respect the deads thing" I found Hordak's behaviour in that room that of high distress. Like, ehm, any normal person? Search for "Convento Dei Cappuccini", that place I was talking about in Palermo. The fact that I heard kids cry and "MEMENTO MORI" everywhere.

Everyone and everything is afraid of death, I just accepted that fear because it's normal. That doesn't mean I want to be reminded of it every week, especially if I'm a 7 yo kid.

Honorable mentions: that horrible art collection.

3) Double standards

When I went to catechism my teacher used a very feather hand on males and an iron fist on us ladies. We weren't allowed to wear trousers, to play football, to raise our voice. We were forced to be very clean, to sit with our legs as closed as possible. I heard it was worse before, at least we could play volleyball and weren't forced to knit.

We were however "encouraged" to sing and bake stupid cakes for Sundays. Mind you, I'm very feminine, but one thing is liking ribbons one thing is being a slave.

The boys...well, they could literally do anything. They broke things, used petards, beat each other. They were NEVER reproached, the teachers would say "oh, they are just boys". Like once I was so engrossed. I remember I had to sit behind a guy with his butt almost uncovered (because the lower you put the helm of your trousers the cooler you were) while I had to stay still with my head high, chest out, belly in and legs closed for 2h. The problem was: I almost pitied him. I was like "poor thing he doesn't know how to behave properly". That's so crazy, I was piting a free soul while I had my hands handcuffed because I truly believed the bullshit they put into my mind.

Now, imagine how did Horde Prime's clones feel about Catra and Glimmer.

They can dress as they please. Eat non amniotic fluid. Catra can even go wherever she wants.

To me, they didn't feel envious. As they should! That's how far an indoctrination can go.

Take Yudi interaction with Catra, he believes everything he is saying.

But I think deep down he knows, they all know, the truth, juding by his bitter reaction after being possesed. He knows he is the slave here, not the free man. But he wants to believe the other way round.

I think that yes, of course Prime kept Glimmer and Catra (and Hordak) because he needed them to conquer Etheria. But that is also a good way to show to the poor clones of how lost people far away from Prime's light can be. Slaves of their bodly needs and slaves of their individuality.

4) Sexual abuse

Do I need to explain this? Plus all those sick touches Prime gives not only to Hordak, but to Glimmer, Catra and Adora as well?

I don't know much about other countries, again, but here the Church is a real cancer. If a priest gets accoused of raping children he just gets put into another Church far away, and generally he keeps being a pedo even there and the game goes on.

I wouldn't exately say that Prime is a pedophile but clones are pretty innocent and neotenic to me so...idk.

Of course, Prime is his own state and his own rules, so yh. Raping all day. That's why I don't like to ship him with anything rather than a 100 m fall. Not even with his clones, sorry I know its kinky maybe but he is a monster.

Also, the way the clones feel like...honored to be raped. That's so sad. Maybe he convinced them this is the only right way they could experience sex and intimacy. I really don't know.

One thing I'm sure of is that Christian religion likes to often put shame on some "impure" acts. That's the name. The most impure of all is masturbation. If you are a male ...mmm well it's okay dear, it's not your fault you are male and so a sex starved animal. But if you are a girl? Ihhh oh dare you bitch.

Mind you, I fall in the ace spectrum but I did too have puberty and needs, and these thoughts in my head made me only conflicted.

Last thing. More of an asking. And more irriverent, so please stay away if you don't want to read.

So basically I understood I was atheist at 5 yo, just because I read two different versions of the birth of the Universe, one in my science book and one in my Bible (MY Bible, I still have it, was a gift of my aunt) and preferred the science version. I still felt conflicted, like once during a religion lesson at School (well...I don't blame Mussolini much in this case, I mean the Vatican wasn't still recognizing country indipendence and we needed a compromise) the teacher told me to stop drawing dinosaurs with Adam and Eve because they never existed. I mean...yes that's anachronistic but still I felt very sad, dinosaurs were cooler than that story. I remember I even made an experiment "if I say I don't believe in god will I get thunderstruck?". It didn't happen so I was like "oh cool, science wins". But then CATECHISM ecc ecc. The fun fact is that they think atheists are those who don't study religion, while I was the most zelous of the class.

So.

I just wonder...my baby boy Hordak is a man of science, what were his thoughts after his separation from Prime. I mean of course he still believed, but also not as much after some time. Entrapta is a support system for him of course, but he accepts her affection quite easily on canon. Which is amazing, still... maybe he was already doubting his devotion?

[wolfpawn]

Threats and Collateral

Based on a request sent to me from an Anon - One shot ideas (if this is cool, please, thank you): how about Loki's reaction to his SO being brought in to the TVA as a way to control him?

Rating - General. 

Note - copious stills and gifs from the Loki Trailers and a lot of lifted dialogue from there too.  If anyone has other requests do not hesitate to ask :)

Loki scowled at the contraption around his neck, limiting his power. Looking around the containment area, there were many creatures and beings with similar around their own necks. Since being captured by the TVA, he had been stripped of his armoured clothes and placed in grotesque and frankly uncomfortable attire and given food that he assumed the palace hounds would turn their noses up at. 

He was yet to be spoken to by anyone of notable seniority as to what was the counts of which he was being held. They mentioned him altering the timeline but nothing more. He had to wait until he had a trial to know what was going to happen. Or so he thought. 

Loki never liked being manhandled, as most beings tended not to, but being grabbed and forcibly handcuffed made him eye those around him carefully. The guards that did so, did it quickly while another man stood back and watched studiously which brought Loki’s attention to him. There was no manner to age the man in front of him, not with where he was, so there was no telling if he could defeat him or not in hand-to-hand combat, though being handcuffed and collared also was to his disadvantage. 

“Follow me.” 

That was all the man said before turning to walk towards one of the elevators that dotted the walls of the room Loki was in. He had known better than to attempt to go near one before, the singed clothing and black burns on the floor and the unconscious what he assumed to be corpses of different beings telling him to do so without authorisation was not to be recommended. 

Though he did not trust the official of the TVA, Loki knew that whatever they wanted, they had no reason to burn him as they would not be so dim as to do so in such a fashion, ergo, he followed sceptically. Passing through the white line on the floor without being harmed and into the metal contraption to bring him to Norns’ knows where in the building. 

“I am Mobius M Mobius and you, are Loki.”

“You heard of me, I’m honoured?” Loki eyed him carefully. 

“Do you know where I am taking you?”

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me.”

“No, I’m taking you some place to talk.”

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie talkie.”

Loki eyed the man with utter disgust at the juvenile and irritating manner in which he spoke. 

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, bringing the two men to a room bare of all objects bar a table, two chairs on opposite sides of it and some stationary equipment. 

Mobius indicated for Loki to sit at one side while he sat on the opposite side. “This is the TVA.”

“I know exactly what this place is.” Loki interrupted. “The Time Keepers have built quiet the circus and I see that the clowns are playing their parts to perfection.” “Big metaphor guy. I love it. It makes you sound smart.” “I am smart.” “I know.” “Okay.”

“Okay.” “What do you want from me?”

Mobius replayed the footage of Loki taking the Tesseract and explained how that was not the original timeline and then showed him what his actual timeline was, the events on Asgard with the Aether and the Dark Elves, him taking the throne under the guise of Odin, Odin’s death, the return of Hela, the destruction of Asgard and finally, the less than comfortable scene were Thanos choked him and snapped his neck in one fell swoop. With an unconscious rubbing of his throat, he looked at the agent across from him. “And you want me to help you because?”

“We need your unique Loki perspective.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Loki shook his head slightly. “I don’t think you believe anyone. This Loki variant needs to be fixed.”

“But why is it the Loki variant when those misfit Midgardians clearly are the ones that altered time. How was I supposed to know that what I did was altering time when they were the ones altering it?” Loki pointed out. “The breaking of reality was not my doing, but theirs, have them fix it.” “But you don’t want us to do that, not really. Because if we did that, you would have to be imprisoned indefinitely as you are not the true timeline Loki and you know that you will face a less than pleasant end soon. But if you help us, you get to use all these traits you love so dearly to actually do something and not be destroyed. “ “What happens if I help you and fix all of this, let me guess, you’ll imprison me then?” “No, then you will be offered to stay here and work for us and fix mess after mess for...well, who knows how long. Time works a little differently here.” 

“So, I help you, I‘m free to work for you, I don’t help you, I sit in uncomfortable clothes waiting to die of old age, which, if I am correct, may never actually happen here?” Loki checked. 

“Something to that effect.” Loki thought over his options. “I am not interested.” “I thought you might say that.” Mobius activated his computer screen and clicked on buttons. With how he was doing it, Loki was suspicious that he was not actually typing anything at all but pretending to do so to try and get Loki to change his mind. But after a few moments, the elevator door behind them rung out and opened. 

At first, Loki did not care enough to turn around. He suspected it was either someone to forcibly get him to comply, in which case, the ignoring served its purpose of not acknowledging such or it was guards to bring him to holding once more or to his new prison cell, which again, he did not care to acknowledge. But then, he felt the urge to look, especially when he sensed someone looking at him. When he turned, his eyes widened. “What?” He tried to rise from his seat but was pushed back down by a guard that seemed to just appear beside him. He glared angrily at Mobius. “How?” “We knew there was a high probability you would say no, we really needed you to say yes, so we brought a little incentive here for you,” Mobius explained. “I have studied practically every moment of your life. There is one single being in the universe you will willingly do anything for.” He pointed behind Loki. “Your adoptive parents, your adopted brother, sure, you’ll do stuff for them, when it suits. You used to be far more compliant, but then you grew up and realised your brother mattered more. You killed your biological father but her...you would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” “No.” Both answered immediately. 

Mobius looked at them both as sat back slightly before pointing to Loki. “He’s the better liar.” “I told him not to do anything stupid and he thwarted that coronation and literally did the most stupid thing possible letting go at the Bifrost, so no, he would not do anything for me.” She glared over at Loki who looked at the table shamefully. 

“Yes, there’s enough time for domestic arguments at a later point, but we really need to get started on this.” Mobius focused on the matter at hand again. 

“Wait, isn’t bringing her here altering the timeline even more so?” Loki pointed out. “I feel as though there’s a significant case of double-standards going on here.” 

“It’s not really affecting the timeline because the timeline is already altered,” Mobius explained boredly. 

“How could it possibly not be affecting the timeline when having her being here instead of being where she would actually be is affecting the timeline?” “Because she is integral to getting you to fix the timeline,” Mobius argued. “But she was doing something when you took her, now that is not going to get done and that affects the timeline.” Loki countered. 

“We need her here to get you to say yes so you fix the timeline you broke, ergo, she fits this timeline.” 

“Wait, I am here because Loki broke a timeline so to fix the timeline he broke, we have to break the one I was in?” She clarified.

“I didn’t break it,” Loki explained. “Thor and his Midgardian friends went back in time because they wanted to change the future but I touched something I was not supposed to touch while they were doing that because their attempts to get it went awry because they are idiots, so technically, they broke the timeline and I am being forced to fix it because it apparently my touching the Tesseract goes against TVA rules but them going back in time and altering the whole future does not.”

“By breaking the timeline I was on, which in itself is a breach of these rules?” She asked in disbelief. 

“Exactly,” Loki confirmed. 

“No,” Mobius stated a mere nanosecond after. 

“It seems like it to me.” She looked at Loki for confirmation. “Me too.” Loki concurred.

“Well, it’s not.” Both looked at Mobius sceptically. “So, you help us and everyone is happy.” Mobius clapped his hands together. “So, let’s get you started as an agent.” Mobius pressed a button and Loki fell through a portal in the floor. Mobius rose to his feet and straightened his jacket boredly. “These men will bring you to the guest rooms.” “I think I rather do something while I wait.” “I don’t think so.” “I wasn’t asking.” She gave a smile that said she would not be dissuaded. “This is a big place, I am sure you can find somewhere for me and good luck trying to control him.” She laughed before walking out of the room. 

Mobius sighed. “I immediately regret this decision.” He rose to his feet and went into the elevator. After a few minutes, the doors opened to show Loki looking at him in a shirt, tie, jacket and pants. “That better?”

“It will suffice.” Loki walked in and stood next to him. 

Mobius remained looking forward as the elevator moved again. “I just need to grab a few things, and we will begin.” 

Loki said nothing in response. 

Mobius walked out of the elevator and the door remained open until his return a minute later, entirely in different attire and looking almost as though he had showered. He fiddled with his tie as he walked back in. 

“I have to say,” Loki stepped towards him and centred his tie as he spoke. “I think it’s adorable that you think you can manipulate me. I am ten steps ahead of you.” “Is that right?” Mobius barely had a hint of curiosity in his voice. “Oh, it is.” Loki sneered. “Nor can she. Though, I am curious, where is she?” “Gone to dictate to whoever is stuck dealing with her.” Mobius looked straight ahead. “She will be fine.” “She had better, or else,” Loki snarled. “Or else what?” Mobius glanced sideways, no emotion in his voice.

“Or else I am going to burn this place to the ground,” Loki swore with a smile. 

[nemo-draco]

The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up…

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- THE DEATH EATERS

Sirius had lived through a lot of crap in his life, some real life shattering moments, but the act of forcing himself to read about the return of Voldemort, when he technically hadn't even fallen yet so they'd never even been allowed to live in that lifespan of peace like Harry had, really was doing something to his psyche as he got started.

Voldemort looked away from Harry and began examining himself. His hands were like large, pale spiders.

Harry almost longed for Sirius or someone trying to crack a joke during all of this, it would make what he was hearing feel even slightly better, his first thought that someone could have made a mention of how Ron would hate Voldemort just for that fact alone, but humor was going to be hard to come by until Harry was out of this danger.

All his other features were as inhuman as well, pale and more serpent like than ever. He took no notice of Wormtail continuing to sob at his feet, still bleeding from his stump.

'As much as he deserves, he's got a fate worse than Quirrell's coming up,' Remus viciously thought to himself.

The large snake from Harry's dreams wasn't given much notice either as it continued slithering across the ground.

Voldemort put one of those unnatural hands into his pocket and came back with a wand, which he caressed with his new fingers.

Lily gathered from that act that this must indeed be Voldemort's own wand, the one with the phoenix core he shared with Harry's. It took a moment for Lily to even push past her disgust at all the cruel things that wand had done to her, James, and what felt like everyone she ever loved, to even try to guess where it had even come from, until she remembered who'd been tending to Voldemort this whole time. Lily couldn't help but wonder for the first time if that rat had possibly made an appearance at their house that fateful Halloween night as well, if he'd come across the body of Voldemort and taken possession of his wand for safe keeping, or perhaps even a level of power, and then hid it away before he went underground as Scabbers. It didn't even seem that far fetched, as he hadn't a wand on him that night he'd been confronted by Sirius and Remus, so he'd held this one as a backup all these years. At the same time as she realized that though, it also meant he would have had to cross James's body, and she hoped in the blackest way possible that had hurt him. To see what he'd cost in deceiving a man who still didn't want to believe the worst in him after everything.

    The first act he performed was to point it at Wormtail, who sailed back into the headstone

James held a remarkable look on his face as he heard that, somewhere between demented humor that this was Peter's reward from Voldemort himself, and still some grains of wondering when he'd finally show regret for his decision.

and again crumpled in pain, begging his master to help him, to keep his promise.

Voldemort indeed asked for his arm, but when he held up the stump hopefully, Voldemort pushed that aside and instead tried to snatch the other one. Wormtail again whimpered and pleaded his Master to help him,

Sirius got through that exchange like an executioner reading out the final charges. It really was easier to think of this cretin as some corpse going through these motions rather than someone he'd once put such trust in, put his own life in those hands, one of which was now gone in a willingly given gesture for these actions to be occurring.

but Voldemort ignored this and pushed back the sleeves of his unbloodied sleeve. There Harry spotted something branded into the skin, the same image that had hovered in the sky the night of the World Cup, the Dark Mark.

Voldemort pressed one of his long white fingers into it, and Harry's scar imploded with pain again.

Remus' mind flashed back through all the mentions of Snape and Karkaroff talking about something on their arm, and then to find the same thing now on that foul little rat, it couldn't really be a coincidence. But what was it exactly?

Voldemort straitened with satisfaction, murmuring to himself that now he would know the brave to return,

Lily had not a clue what was going on, what Voldemort was doing, nor where on earth that tattoo had come from. What she did gather was the fact that it seemed to be some sort of calling symbol, and that meant even more bad news was about to arrive.

and those foolish enough to stay away.

Harry was rubbing at his forearm thoughtfully, some lingering thoughts floating just beyond his conscious mind of how he felt about those questions.

Voldemort began pacing across Harry's field of vision, his ruby eyes again falling on the gagged teenager as he informed him that Harry stood upon the bones of his late father. Much like Harry's mother

James had already grown up hating Voldemort through his life, but in that moment where he actually referred to Lily, James wanted to see him dead more than ever. No one got to talk about his wife like that!

both had died but held their uses.

"Uses?" Lily spat in disgust. "I lived trying to protect my son, that's more than he'll ever understand."

Lily Potter had died defending her son,

Sirius would forever hate himself for having to say that, and still having even the slightest bit been involved in that happening, but then he conjured back the image of telling his wasteful parents that their precious Voldemort was in fact a half-blood with parent issues, and it gave him enough breath back to keep going.

and Voldemort had killed his father,

"So it was Voldemort who killed Riddle and his own grandparents," Remus marveled, wondering why he was even shocked. There were some questions in there he was curious about, like why, but this was Voldemort he was thinking about, he'd never really needed much of a reason to kill anybody, especially Muggles, certainly ones he was related too would be eliminated at Voldemort's earliest convenience.

and look how useful he'd been in his death.

Harry rubbed at his forehead a bit at that, there was a significance to what Voldemort had said about a father being useful in death...his eyes flickered to his own and away, he didn't like to think of his dad as dead in any sense even if it might have been helpful to him in his past.

Voldemort gave a soft laugh again as he continued his pacing, that snake still circling in the grass below mimicking his movement.

"I want to know what's with that thing?" James muttered of no one, anything to keep the feeling alive that they were hearing of this in the room rather than having to think about Harry living it. "They were only using its weird venom to keep Voldemort alive, yet he named it didn't he. What's so special about this snake?"

"I'm not really that surprised," Remus shrugged, "Voldemort claims to be the descendant of the Great Salazar Slytherin, I can easily picture him with some snake for a pet now."

"I can't picture him with anything resembling a pet," Lily disagreed, "he doesn't have the capacity to take care of a goldfish."

"We should just be thankful it's whatever this is, and not a basilisk," Sirius muttered.

Harry wasn't that grateful for his dad's comment, that annoying feeling cropping up again of an answer that should have been there. There was indeed something very significant about Nagini he just wasn't remembering.

Voldemort began telling Harry his story, how his own father had lived just over on that hill. His mother had lived in the village and fell in love, but Riddle had abandoned her when he found out what she was, his father hadn't liked magic.

"Oh joy, just what I always wanted, more Voldemort backstory," Sirius groused.

Lily on the other hand couldn't help but picture someone else saying this, someone who was now in Voldemort's ranks himself. Snape had made many of the same comments about his own father from time to time. It never failed to sadden her just how much alike her old friend and Voldemort seemed to be, far more than Snape and her had ever had in common it seemed.

He'd abandoned her while pregnant and not looked back, and she'd died giving birth to him, leaving him in an orphanage with the foul name of Tom Riddle, of the very same man who he now vowed revenge on.

Remus shook his head in disgust the longer this dragged on. "While no one's arguing the guy's an arse for trying to abandon his kid, I'm still struggling to wrap my head around how this turned him into the greatest evil in our world. And now I'm even wondering why he was named after his father, did the orphanage find out about that name through the mother before she died and gave it to him, because it's not like that Riddle seemed to have a say in it."

"You are reading far too much into this," Sirius sighed. "Just hate him and start plotting ways to stop this from happening like the rest of us."

Voldemort seemed to catch himself as he realized he was becoming sentimental,

"There's one thing I don't think anyone in the world's ever called that megalomaniac," James rolled his eyes.

recounting his life story for Potter, but now his real family was arriving.

Sirius sneered at the word family, absolutely convinced that Voldemort had no clue what that meant any more than the pathetic rat he employed.

The air was filled with the swishing of cloaks in long black attire and all faces covered as they Apparated as one. For a moment none moved, frozen in shock, until one finally shuffled forward, and flung itself at Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his robes.

Remus was flickering through all the known Death Eaters he'd heard about, and any one of them were considered so full of themselves it really was laughable whichever one it was groveling like that, making it all the more unbelievable they bowed to anyone, even Voldemort.

Soon they were all doing it, until Voldemort waved his hands that was enough, and then they all backed away and formed a circle around them with some noticeable gaps. Leaving Voldemort and Harry in the center, and a sobbing Wormtail still curled on the ground.

James wanted to ask Harry exactly how many there were, but he was honestly already faint at the idea of just how outnumbered his son was. The question had only occurred to him because he was pissed of how many free Death Eaters were out there. They'd known of some numbers, but this felt ridiculous that the Ministry hadn't been able to get so many of Voldemort's inner circle.

Voldemort didn't seem to be expecting anymore, as he began addressing them all by reminding them of how long it had been. Thirteen years, and they came to his call as if nothing had changed, still united.

Then he inhaled deeply, those blood-red eyes taking in all those around him as he stated he smelt their guilt.

Sirius had the mad desire to laugh. The way Voldemort was speaking to them, it all felt as theatrical as possible. He'd had a sense back when he'd been dealing with that odd diary that Voldemort had a grandiose idea of himself, but to be speaking like this really did just put a spin on how ridiculous the man sounded.

Voldemort stood before these men, healthy and free, and Voldemort asked himself why none before him had aided their master before this night.

Remus made a thrumming noise in his throat of deep curiosity as well, while not in the same light as Voldemort he did wonder the same. Like Sirius, he did wonder what exactly drew these people to Voldemort, if it was all to gain a bit of power than they should have been actively looking for the man who could give that back to them. Yet it had been a rat to find him and make this possible. This either meant he wasn't hard to find by Death Eater standards, or more likely since Dumbledore hadn't been able to find this husk, the rat had simply been the dedicated one to figure it out. His thoughts went back to that Pensive, of that deranged woman screaming about how Voldemort would reward her for being so loyal, and he was starting to wonder if in her own twisted way she'd been right. Voldemort was surely ticked at all of these that had been free and not spent every waking hour before now to make this moment happen.

No one spoke. No one moved except Wormtail, who was upon the ground, still sobbing over his bleeding arm.

Every time that was mentioned Sirius somehow still managed to add an extra layer of menace into his voice, even listening to all this Voldemort crap he still managed to somehow hate this most of all.

Voldemort answered his own question, how his followers had believed him broken and gone. They'd slipped back to society pleading ignorance and bewitchment.

"I'd make a joke about how talking to himself has made him go as mad as Crouch has, but I guess we already knew that ship has sailed," James huffed.

"There's still a chance he's gone even more up the ladder," Lily reminded, "getting blasted out of your body most likely does something to your mental health as well."

"I'm so sure Voldemort cares deeply about this," Remus rolled his eyes at the pair even if he did manage a smile, they're comments really did seem to be helping Harry as a constant reminder that they were here for him.

He returned by asking himself why they would believe such a thing? When he'd shown them all the steps he'd taken to defeat mortality.

Sirius narrowed his eyes curiously at that, hoping that if this monologuing was going to continue, at least Voldemort could go into details about this part. Sirius wanted to know what exactly those steps were, they'd clearly been the thing to keep him alive against a rebounding Killing Curse.

They'd seen his proof of becoming mightier than any alive being.

"I can not get over how full of himself he is," Lily shook her head with a twist of her lips. "I'm now grateful that in the times where he's fought our side he's never tried to monologue during it."

"Though if he had, we'd have this problem nipped by now," James pointed out, "so maybe that's how we get rid of this guy, try to get him talking about himself."

"I'll make a list of conversation starters," Sirius rolled his eyes at the pair.

He again answered himself that his loyal followers could have perhaps traded allegiance to that of their enemy, Dumbledore.

His circle shivered as one, some even murmured this not to be true, but still they were ignored as Voldemort continued speaking to himself about how disappointed he was.

"First bit of good news I've heard all night," Remus grumbled.

"Wish he'd stay that way," Sirius agreed.

One man collapsed to his knees again, begging his Master to forgive them, forgive them all.

Voldemort's response was to use Crucio on him.

The Death Eater writhed on the ground, shreking in agony, while Harry was left silently begging for someone nearby to have heard.

Lily's arm kept tightening around her baby all the time, sure she'd never gripped anything so tight in her life to assure herself Harry was right here beside her now, not being forced to live through this again any more than he had to. Pity didn't quite define what she felt for her baby. She completely understood his desperate desire for help to arrive, but she had no doubts that not a soul actually knew where he was, and no Muggle could do a thing for him.

Voldemort lifted his curse, and commanded Avery to get back to his feet. Voldemort would not be forgiving anyone until they repaid their thirteen years of service owed.

"I'm hoping you won't live past the next thirteen minutes," Sirius snapped, "so Avery's not going to get his chance."

Another high pitched sob drew Voldemort's attention back to Wormtail, admitting to himself that at least this one had already started on that path. Reminding him that he deserved this pain-

James was trembling, whether in rage or despair no one was sure, for that being so irrevocably true and he still wanted more than anything for it to not be.

to which Wormtail moaned in agreement even while still begging his Master to help him.

Remus was starting to get concerned about letting Sirius continue like this, it just couldn't be good for his health, or throat, to keep reading about that in the most violent way possible, but as it was the only release Sirius could find instead of murdering that rat like he deserved, Remus wasn't going to be the one to stop him.

Voldemort nodded to himself, saying that while worthless, Wormtail had been of service, and Voldemort rewarded that.

Lily already realized that rat had broken her list of people who needed to be purged from her life, but now every time she was forced to see the reaction it gave James it was still somehow made worse every time.

Voldemort gave another flick of his wand, and something silver materialized in the air, which sunk down to Wormtail's level and developed into a fist over his stump. His sobbing finally ceasing, Wormtail sat up and inspected the now gleaming metal, flexing his fingers in surprise.*

The fact that he was actually being rewarded really did somehow feel like the worst part. Like their friendship, this family, all the times they'd shared over the past years of their life hadn't been enough for him, and he'd gone crawling to everything they'd ever stood against, and somehow he actually still hadn't shown an ounce of remorse for his choice.

He remained on the ground for a moment longer as he began kissing the hem of his Master's robes, thanking him for such a thing.

Sirius didn't care how long he lived, that image would forever be branded into his brain and he couldn't ever peel it away no matter how much it hurt, how much he still didn't want it to be true and still wanted to end his life before any of this could begin.

Voldemort told Wormtail that this was a sign Wormtail would never again question his loyalties, to which was instantly agreed.

For some reason something of what Dumbledore had once said tried to come floating back to the surface of Harry's mind, something about how Harry actually would one day be thankful that Wormtail was so heavily involved in all of this. Harry believed that now more than ever as he heard about this hand.

Wormtail finally got to his feet and entered the circle, while Voldemort began addressing more individuals, starting with Lucius.

"Wow, so we were right, Malfoy is part of the inner circle," Lily huffed, her own mind still distracted, caught on the never ending realization they'd all been suffering through that one of their own was now a part of the same thing.

Voldemort began with reproach, asking how someone who had made it so high in the Ministry's rankings had never come to his Lord's aid.

Malfoy swore he'd always kept a watchful ear out, if ever he'd heard the slightest sound of his Master's return he would have been there-

"Is it wrong to say I'm actually enjoying listening to him beg like this," Sirius got out through gritted teeth, the opposite of looking like he was enjoying any part of this.

Nobody responded, they weren't entirely sure how much of a joke that was supposed to be, as well as Sirius could find his own pleasure in whatever he needed right now anyways so they wouldn't tell him off for it regardless.

Voldemort cut him off by reminding he'd fled when the Mark had been cast in the sky.

Mr. Malfoy instantly stopped his speech.

"I can not get over the fact that Harry's referring to him as Mr. Malfoy," Remus directed at Lily, hoping the friendly reminder of when Harry had first met Hagrid would make even one slight worry line disappear from her face.

Voldemort told how disappointed he was in this, and expected more faithful service in the future.

Harry wondered why he thought he should have a feeling about that, some sense of something telling him the Malfoy line and Voldemort's service could hold something to him...

Voldemort moved on from him then, where a double space could have housed two people. Voldemort stared as if he still saw them there, murmuring to himself about the Lestranges.

Sirius' hard face managed to give an extra spasm of hatred at the reminder of his family. He already knew what had become of one of his cousins, Narcissa had married a Malfoy and he was honestly surprised she hadn't been mentioned right along with Lucius, and he'd heard rumors of what Bellatrix had become, if he wasn't mistaken this was in fact her new last name. Only Andromeda had made anything good of herself, at least he hoped she'd stayed that way in all these years.

He knew of their life in Azkaban, how they were there because they had not renounced their ways, and Voldemort swore when Azkaban was broken they would be honored for this.

Remus shook his head in disgust, thinking back to that Pensive and that woman who had believed this same thing. Guess she had been right, though with any luck she was long dead, it would certainly serve her right. They had no confirmation if Crouch's son had been involved in what happened to the Longbottoms, but she certainly hadn't done a thing to make it seem she hadn't otherwise, so Azkaban was a rightful resting place for a wretched being like that.

Then he mentioned how easy this would be with the dementors joining their side,

"I believe that," James shivered, "Dumbledore's always said it's a miracle they haven't deserted us already, the majority of them have. I keep hearing fewer numbers are keeping their prison in check all the time."

"Well we need a new prison anyways," Lily snapped, "so good riddance to them."

as well as the giants and all manner of dark creatures.

Remus gave a particularly vicious shiver at that, it really wasn't his favorite job he now had to be helping keeping tabs on a select group of those fearsome monsters, he among them.

Voldemort moved on to face Macnair, speaking of his job in the Ministry as a beast executioner.

Sirius had an individual hatred for that loon, the one who'd tried to kill Buckbeak, the same creep who'd walked around with an axe the whole time around children. It really didn't surprise him in the slightest he was among these high ranking, he was the kind you had probably found burning live kittens in his youth.

Next he addressed Crabbe and Goyle, only sparing enough words to gain their promises of further loyalty.

"Wow, and here I thought their kids were just meat suites without brains," James said nastily. "Turns out they're as trollish as their own dad's."

Lily hummed without comment that time, etching all of these into her own mental list, some of the worry for her son finally lessening just slightly enough she was realizing how useful all this information could be to the Order, they were getting a handpicked list of the elite after all, many of which were indeed still active in the Ministry now. She'd worry about details on how to nail them all after Harry was out of there, she'd still rather have the ignorance of not knowing than how she was learning this.

They bowed clumsily, muttering dully.

"That about describes everything they do," Sirius snarked.

After Nott was next named, Voldemort stopped in front of the largest gap, where he claimed six should stand. Three had died, one was clearly too cowardly to return, and another had long since left his service and would pay with his life. The last of which Voldemort already knew of and still remained his faithful servant.

"That was mentioned once before too wasn't it?" Lily muttered to herself. "Someone faithful who'd been helping him out along with- the first one we heard about." Her throat wasn't quite able to swallow all of a sudden it was so dry, and she trailed off from there with nothing more to add on. The one name Voldemort hadn't given, the one they really wanted to know.

Remus was keeping his own running list in his head, and realized that at least two of those most likely referred to Karkaroff and Snape, though he had no clue who was who. He didn't really think that was giving them too much credit anymore, not the way they'd been speaking all year about something like this happening. All he was left wondering who the third was. Could it be one of those two who were his most faithful and had been helping him out as well, or someone else altogether they hadn't even heard about yet.

Voldemort informed those around him his faithful servant was at Hogwarts, and was the reason they were all here tonight.

James made a demented noise. He somehow had found a new level for hate on either Karkaroff or Snape. His money was on Snape, but since it really had been either of them to put his son in there, they were going to suffer for it in the worst way he could conceive.

All attention was turned back on Harry now, some would even call him their guest of honor.

"Well I'm certainly not that some, and you need to not ever say that again," Lily snapped to no one, knowing she couldn't stand Voldemort taunting Harry being there much longer without blasting down a wall of her house in anger.

Voldemort let the silence continue until Malfoy spoke up again, craving his Lord to tell how this miracle had become.

Voldemort agreed he'd share the tale, which all began, and ended, with Harry Potter.

Aside from the abundance of information regarding names they were being force fed from his meeting, James wondered if he'd get something even more important to him. Would Voldemort finally divulge the very reason he'd started with his boy in the first place?

He began by recounting this boy as his downfall, all the while Harry was only just managing to follow along every word with his scar in agony.

Lily was mouthing her anger that on top of all this Harry was in fact in pain this whole time, if being in close contact to the essence of Voldemort had hurt Harry, then she could only imagine how that had increased with his own body. Her only saving grace for now was that it wasn't happening to him now, he still kept himself still as possible, one hand curled securely around her, the other hooked into James. James had been randomly patting it this whole time as a reminder to himself as well, thankful beyond words their infant had never been brought back down to be any part of this.

Stating the fabled tale of how his mother had died to save him,

Lily's touch seemed to warm Harry all the more. Not that he'd ever forget that for a moment in his life, nor ever be able to find happiness in the act of her life being cost, but there was still something he could never put into words of the magic of the act that went beyond any spell.

and how she'd unwittingly given him life that night, something that had not been foreseen. Voldemort could not touch him.

Remus was starting to get a bad feeling about this, his fingers already tightening around his wand as he remembered the last time Voldemort had tried to act on that and had nearly choked Harry to death. Why was Voldemort even keeping Harry alive now? He'd played his part in the resurrection potion, was it all really for gloating now?

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

Harry had to beat back the impulse to lean away from those touching him now, that horrible ingrained pain still trying to remind him it had once existed in his scar, soon to be even worse though he wouldn't have believed that possible.

Voldemort whispered and still all heard that the sacrifice of old magic had been overlooked,

"You make that mistake a lot," Sirius snapped cheerfully, "and it's put a hole in your boat so many times I hope it never stops."

"Sirius, I don't think that's actually a saying," James sighed more than joked back.

"Well it is now," Sirius replied like that was obvious, and for a moment as the two best friends met eyes something felt normal even for just that second before Sirius forced himself to resume.

but in the end, all in vain. Harry Potter could now be touched.

He placed the tip of his finger against Harry's scar, who screamed harder than he had in his life, now convinced his head was being cleaved in two.

Voldemort hissed a laugh in his ear, but pulled away to continue.

"Wha-How!?" Lily screeched, her arm starting to shake across Harry's shoulders. The thing she'd been able to leave him with, a sliver of protection she'd lost her life for, and now even that was gone. She felt like a failure as a mother, nothing she'd ever done had been enough for him.

Lily looked as likely to burst into tears of frustration as murder someone in that moment, so Remus felt like he was poking his own death as he reminded, "the potion that resurrected him Lily. He used Harry's blood, that makes them as connected as their wands now." He'd thought the others had realized this, it made sense when you went back and realized why Voldemort had wanted to use only Harry for this when that rat had been right, it would have been easier to get a hold of another other than Harry for this.

Apparently not as the others lost an extra shade of color, all false bravado of pretending this was okay falling out the window. Stupidly, Harry had felt a teensy bit safer with at least the knowledge Voldemort couldn't lay a hand on Harry, now even that was taken from them!

Sirius was looking from the book, to each of them in turn, like he was waiting for someone to actually offer some good news, something that would make this bearable for him to keep going. No one was, that ship had long sailed, and instead Sirius just wanted this chapter to end with Harry getting out of this place already.

His fault had been his downfall, and he was stripped from his body with pain he could not begin to describe. Still he did not despair, as some of the measures he'd taken for immortality had seemed to take effect, but not in the way he'd hoped. He had no body, and no way to use a wand,

James could feel the powder he was grinding his teeth to in frustration. In all this talking and posturing and making his life a living hell, Voldemort was still holding back on the important details, like an example of those bleeding experiments so they could make sure this didn't happen when James removed this snake's head!

so he'd been forced to exist in that state of being as he snuck away to a safe forest he knew of, waiting in vain for the help he should have expected from one of his loyal followers.

Those around him all shivered again in fear, and Voldemort let the silence linger for emphasis before continuing.

"If only he'd kill them all and save us the job," Sirius snarled.

The only temporary solace he'd found was when a young, foolish wizard had found him, and in luck's favor, had even been employed in Dumbledore's very school.

"What do I have to pay this guy to make him stop already," James moaned. He was sick with worry every passing moment Harry was there a second longer, and now they were having to hear about all of this stuff again they'd already had to live through. Harry didn't need this in his life repeated a third time, it had already nearly killed him the first two!

His goal had been the Philosopher's Stone, but again he'd been thwarted by Harry Potter.

"Did we ever congratulate you for doing that?" Remus sighed as he tried to usher back to a time where Voldemort popping out of Quirrell's head was the worst part of their day.

He didn't know what kind of answer he was expecting, but Harry not answering wasn't an encouraging one. He was still acting distant to the world around him. This night in the graveyard, what he'd already witnessed happening to Cedric, it was enough to drive anyone mad the first time around, now he was being forced to hear it all again. The one and only thing that seemed to be keeping him here was whatever response he got from his parents.

That struggle had ended with the death of Quirrell, and he was left as weak as ever.

"Please don't tell me he's going to start recounting your second year as well," Sirius groaned.

"That's actually an interesting question of if he even knows," Remus reminded. "We never even understood how a bit of his soul got into that diary, and Harry killed it with the basilisk fang. I can't imagine why Voldemort would know anything about it, considering it was aged so many years before the body he's in now, so the most he'd say was a passing comment about Harry doing that when he felt a bit of his soul die." Remus kind of wanted to keep going, that old intriguing question of what exactly would be happening if that Voldemort soul part had succeeded and come back to life. Would it have merged with the rest of this body, or stayed two separate entities? He was clearly the only one thinking on this, and knew the others were long since done with this whole night and wanted it to be over. Remus didn't even really care for finding answers to this, it was just easier to postulate ridiculous ideas like this than have to keep thinking of Harry tied to a headstone.

Voldemort had returned to his hiding, giving up hope.

James released a torrent of sounds as he begged this to end there no matter how much he knew otherwise. The next part, the bit where he had indeed gotten exactly what he wanted, was still the worst part of all.

Even he hadn't expected the change to come, when Wormtail had been driven out of hiding by once friends and forced to seek out his old Master.

Harry again felt the burn of Trelawney's prophecy tormenting his life, now complete and in the flesh. What he would give to go and take back his part in this coming true.

This had been accomplished through his curious affinity with rats.

"One that he thankfully can't retain in death, so look for some silver lining," Lily hissed under her breath.

The rodents had whispered of the forests of Albania where their kind sensed evil, and Wormtail had made his way there. All had almost been lost before it even begun, as Wormtail stumbled into Bertha Jorkins. Showing a spot of intelligence none would have guessed from him, Wormtail had continued to work this in his favor and a wealth of information was born from that woman.

Sirius hated himself for somehow still finding new ways to despise that miserable bit of existence. He just wanted to have him dead already and be done with that part of his life, this continuing to be dragged out always managed to find new ways of torturing him along.

Through persuasion, she'd told of the Triwizard Tournament, and even after a Memory Charm had been broken, divulged of a faithful Death Eater willing to go to Voldemort's service. Once she'd shared all she knew, her mind and body were damaged beyond repair.

Harry couldn't even imagine what Bertha's last few moments of life had been like, but he could understand a small bit of her pain. He felt it every time a powerful memory was returned to his own mind after some kind of Memory blocking had been put on him. He was going slow, relearning this bit by bit, and he still felt like it was slowly driving him mad. He couldn't imagine someone being forced to have it all come back at once, that really would drive a person out of their own skull.

Remus shook his head in disgust at himself, this was all so clear in hindsight. Bertha had worked in the Department of Magical Cooperation, and would have known about the Tournament before hand like every other employee there. When Voldemort had previously mentioned how useful her information had been, that had been what helped put this whole plan into action. The reason her memory had gone from so good in the way they remembered to this way was because she'd had a Memory Charm placed on her, and then broken in the worst way. Now the only thing he was left wondering was who was the servant that had executed that plan, and who'd placed it on her in the first place, what had been hidden that revolved that secret?

Voldemort shown his scarlet eyes on Wormtail, admitting his own shock at such an ill adapted wizard accomplishing all that.

A distant part of James absently noted how even Voldemort kept downplaying Peter's skills when they'd been the very things to get Voldemort where he was now. It seemed everyone constantly mocked and laughed at him, and yet the Marauders never had, but instead encouraged and helped along what he was good at. What had they done so wrong that had forced their friend away?

A plan had been formed from Bertha's information, and while Voldemort had been nursed back to health using Nagini's venom, the potion was being prepared that gave Voldemort the body he now possessed. They had the first ingredient of unicorns blood, but still needed the rest. The flesh had been provided, the bone would detail the setup of where this would happen.

Lily hadn't believed she could be any more shocked tonight, but still she managed to utter in surprise, "so, his Death Eaters know he's not a pureblood?"

"I, um, guess they do," James wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about that, but he knew at some point in the future when he sadly would go back thinking to this he'd be disappointed. They'd been planning to spread this information around, hopefully discredit Voldemort's top people in hopes they'd desert him, and now that plan seemed as useless as anything else they'd ever tried to do.

The blood of the foe had been the tricky part. Wormtail had been happy to use anyone, but Voldemort knew the one he must have. To share Harry Potter's blood, so that the lingering magical protection would now be in his own veins.

Lily looked beyond disgusted at the idea. She'd thought it repulsive to share anything with Petunia, but this was just as bad! How dare the very thing that kept trying to hurt her son somehow manage to house his very protection!

The boys were suddenly aware of a way to kill Voldemort, release Lily on him. She looked so fearsome in that moment if she'd actually had her target present, not even a puddle would be left of him.

The question of how to reach Harry Potter was the issue, as the boy was so well protected in ways Dumbledore had planned from the moment this started.

That question made something occur to Remus for the first time, but it was such a small thing making a blip in his mind as compared to the other more pressing matters he knew he couldn't be bothered to question that until he had the much better knowledge of hearing Harry be free of this nightmare.

Ancient magic was invoked to ensure the boy's protection as long as he was in his relations' care.

James' brain felt like a broken record, all he'd been managing to due for ages now was utter, "wait, what?" Always feeling one step behind now.

Lily's face squinched up in pain as she processed this, muttering, "I've never heard of that."

"I can believe it though," Remus said sourly. "It doesn't excuse what Dumbledore did in even the slightest bit in not checking in on Harry with those abusive excuse for people, but it still always blew my mind of why he'd been put there in the first place when neither of you ever even mentioned Petunia's existence."

Sirius wished that at any time Harry had ever demanded of Dumbledore why he had to keep going back there, if Dumbledore would really use the excuse Harry was safer there than out because of some protective magic. No magic was infallible, and safe was the last thing Harry was at the hands of those Dursleys.

Harry watched them all with fascination, surprised he'd finally been dragged out the recesses of his mind to focus in on them muttering about the Dursleys again. He supposed if there was someone to rival their hatred of Voldemort and Wormtail, it was Vernon and Petunia, not that this was at all comforting. Harry at once wanted to sink back into not having to listen to anymore words, if he kept trying to understand past that to those around him he was going to suffer even more pain for the realization he was living through all of this because the scene around him would never happen in his own time. Sadly, now that he'd been snapped out, he couldn't find the distance to go back.

Then there had been the Quidditch Cup, where his body had still been too weak to attempt a kidnap around so many, but then more of Bertha's information had been of use. Voldemort had placed his faithful Death Eater at Hogwarts, who'd ensured Harry's name would be placed in the Goblet of Fire.

"Holy Godric Gryffindor!" Sirius yelped.

"We are complete morons," James gasped as that was slapped into his face.

"This whole bleeding time, we were thinking they were actually two unrelated- Merlin's pants are we something stupid," Remus snarled as he nearly ripped the sleeve of his robe off he was pulling on it so hard in agitation.

That one really should have clicked together when Harry had appeared here, but in between Cedric dying and the appearance of that rat, it had been hard to think past anything else. Now they realized that in fact, this whole year had been one big set up to this end, and they all felt like fools for not grasping this sooner.

Harry wasn't going to let them wallow in their misery for long, failing to come up with an encouraging smile in his search for something to say, but still getting out, "if it makes you all feel any better, no one else figured this out either. Really, how could anyone have known that Voldemort's ultimate plan was for me to win some competition."

Lily supposed when he put it that way it did sound ridiculous, but it still didn't erase how bleeding frustrating it always was to find themselves lost amongst all these plans around Harry until it was too late. Still she forced some chipper into her voice as she agreed with him, if anything just because it was the first time he'd spoken in ages and she wanted to encourage that as much as possible.

Sirius forced himself to keep going at this point just because he saw an end in sight of this chapter.

His faithful Death Eater had ensured Potter's first place, and transformed the Triwizard Cup into a Portkey so that they could all be here now, far from Dumbledore's protection.

None of that was helping narrow out their two suspects, both had access to all of that.

Now here he was at their mercy, the one who everyone believed to be Voldemort's downfall.

"And will be again, and again, and again, until you learn to stay the hell away from him," James snarled, his own arm tightening around his wife and son possessively which would stay that way until Voldemort was gone.

Voldemort moved slowly forward and turned to face Harry. He raised his wand,

Harry recognized what was coming a moment before he watched Sirius utter that spell.

and used Crucio.

When the memory of that pain surged in his mind, but didn't actually make a comeback on him, Harry forced himself to slowly relax back into his parents grip, trying to insist upon his brain that wasn't happening to him now, but it helped nothing when he couldn't convince himself this still wasn't the most painful part of his night.

This was pain beyond anything imaginable, his eyes were rolling in his head, he knew the only relief he'd ever feel again was the blackness of death.

Sirius felt tears stinging at the edge of his vision as he forced himself to read of that happening to his pup. He could hardly imagine the idea without wanting to throw himself in front of Harry now. The infant in the crib, the fourteen year old suffering through this for the first time alone and helpless, or even the adult now cushioned between his parents. Absolutely none of it could ever be comprehended in any way other than the worst torture in the world to imagine that happening to Harry.

It stopped as suddenly as it started, and if Harry hadn't been bound in place, there was no way he'd be upright.

Voldemort looked pleased as the night rang with laughter from his followers.

Whatever the opposite of laughter was, Remus could hear himself making that, but forcing himself to do it as privately as he could, he didn't want Sirius to stop now, he was to desperate to hear of the something else, anything else happening than Harry torture until he got out of there which wasn't happening soon enough.

Still, Voldemort swore that while it would be easy to dispose of this child, he wanted no one in doubt of his own true power. Harry Potter would be killed now, with no Dumbledore protection, and no mother to die for him.

There was not a shadow of a doubt in anyone's mind that Lily would make that call over and over again, but it didn't explain why something came over Harry's expression when he heard that. In fact Harry had looked the same way every time one of his parents had come up for a while now, what was it about this night that had him feeling so much for the two. Was it possible Voldemort would start taunting their last moments again, Harry had looked much like he was now when that had happened before.

Instead, Harry Potter was to be released, and handed back his wand.

"That was the stupidest thing he could have done," Remus sneered, "as I finally figured out the way you're going to get out of there, putting Voldemort in his place."

"I think you lot have far too much faith in me," Harry whispered, still keeping a tight hand on each of his parents. "No, whatever did save me from that place, it wasn't my doing, it was Voldemort's own fault, again."

"Well whatever the case, let's be done with it," Sirius pleaded, of whom even he wasn't sure.

HPHPHPHP

*Did anyone else first read this moment and think, 'oh my god he's going to kill Remus!' I mean, I'm happy I was wrong, but come on, the silver hand, he'd already been a hand in killing one Marauder and trying to kill another, (yes I consider leaving Sirius when he did was as good as a death sentence.) Remus was the only one he hadn't personally had a chance at yet...

[zeoumren]

The skeletons, the swamp and the song bird(undertale  drabble)

I am not gonna post this to Ao3 (probably) but I wanted to  write something about the boys™ ( y’know San’s Red and Skull because they spark joy) and I ended up making...a swamp monster Au? hey, you know what sure. I'm chill. 

So please enjoy this little drabble 

Sans is half blue spotted salamander 

Red is half Marine  iguana

And our boy skull is an unholy amalgam of  giant leeches  that makes him look  like he has tentacles. c: 

It had been another indescribably shitty day.

You were not a pessimist but the dark circles under your eyes had something to say about your lifestyle. 

It was shit, plain and simple. You had a hard time separating your real life from your work life and that lead to more stress, less sleep and a pissy boss telling you to get your act together before coming back to the venue.

A sigh left you as you sat hunched over on a stump in the forest clearing. 

This was your quiet place, you came here to sing and practice routines.

You were an entertainer and it was hard not to keep your mask on, you pretended all the time to be someone...something you were not it was hard when someone asked you about yourself because you didn't know who you were off the stage anymore.

So yeah, life was kinda shit right now so you threw yourself into what you normally did when you hiked up here, into the humid underbrush of a forest no one wanted to come to, legends of creatures eating full-grown men whole and actual real dangers surrounded this place, but you didn’t much care anymore.

After all, the ones who were more dangerous were outside the forest.

Taking off a ball cap and letting your hair tumble free you wipe your brow free of sweat and kick your legs as you sit.

Most of the forest was loud, full if chattering and nattering of birds and other creatures, but this space that just dropped off into a bog, was quiet.

You liked to come here in the wee hours of the morning and watch the fog roll off the algae-green water, it made for the perfect ambience to a forlorn song or a crooning that let all your own heartbreak loose.

But today, in the evening after being told your routine was shit and you were one slip up from being let go and replaced by someone new, who you had no grievance with, but it was the principal of the matter, you had worked so hard to get to sing and perform for crowds and now….you were having it dangled above your head.

You grit your teeth and for the first time since you ever came here you let out a cry of pure frustration and rage.

The quiet never broke, even through all your angered screaming, then looking between your knees as you sat and into the murky water you buried your head in your hands and wept.

You did not know what to do! It was all too much all at once.

Still, you came back to a familiar song, even with a tearful voice.

"Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird teach me how to sing."

You were able to get a few verses in before the sun began to Dip down below the horizon and you got up from your perch.

No point trying to navigate this quagmire in the gloom.

You took careful steps, keeping to the path you always did when something caught your attention. A pale bluish light hovering in the air, soon being joined by more close by of other colours…you spotted red as well, and a strange, almost grey-blue light. You hummed to yourself, reminded of the fact that this was a bog, and swamp gas igniting was a thing. Still, you stopped and stared, a smile playing at your lips.

"Wow, this is the most beautiful light show I have ever seen! And people say the Fen is haunted. More like hauntingly beautiful!"

You giggle to yourself and don't even notice the lights flare brighter at your statement.

You always loved the Gloom, you just never knew the gloom loved you back.

---

Well….you never thought it could get worse, but even after giving it your all you still ended up being fired. 

So you came to the bog to say your goodbyes. You probably would have to move back into your parent’s town.

"I'm gonna miss this place, not the shitty managers, or the fights...but I always thought the locals were silly to be afraid. This place is so magical and I'm really gonna miss it…" 

It was weird, saying goodbye to a place. But you somehow still ended up crying a little.

And for the first time ever in this clearing, you heard a sound.

A mournful wailing, deep like a foghorn that rattled into your very bones.

It looked like the Bog itself had seemed to shift, the top layer of Jenny green teeth giving way to the sound of mud slurping and water gushing.

You couldn't move, frozen to the spot as you watched in awed terror.

Writhing tentacles that moved like leeches and were just as black moved towards you, you figured this was it, you were dead. You sucked in a breath and screwed your eyes up tight.

You were startled as the wet appendages slowly ran over your cheek. Delicately.

You cracked open an eye and saw there in the water a skull, a giant gaping hole that looked painful gushing water as it rose, one of its eyes was devoid of light and the other…

Was a deep crimson, the colour of blood.

Yet it smiled softly, even with so many teeth.

The tentacles seemed to be coming from it and it made you cock your head to the side as it almost shyly drew closer, hauling more of its body out of the water.

Its torso was also skeletal, and it was gigantic, at least eight feet tall without including its lower half.

You thought of story's of swamp hags dragging people under and looked at this...it seemed to fit some sort of description...it definitely looked like a drowned corpse.

But as it hauled itself out of the water and you saw how it slid over to you in one fluid motion, how its bones melded into strange dark tentacles, how it's eye lit up when it reached a skeletal hand over to pat your hair.

This was surreal, strange in every sense of the word. Your voice caught in your throat as  two other skulls, smaller than the first bobbed in the water, one had white pinpricks of light for eyes like the stars in the sky, the other had sharper teeth and predatory red slits for eye lights.

They shared a look and dipped under the surface, leaving you with the behemoth.

It was so strange having something so giant hold your face and look you over, play with your hair.

You finally found your voice, it wobbled despite your best efforts.

"S-sorry to bother you...I didn't know anyone lived here. Don't worry I will go."

The touching and playing stopped and it said one word that made your stomach drop and your bones freeze.

"N o."

It was soft, but full of a strange emotion you could not understand and you felt your eyes widen in shock as millions of tentacles surrounded you, even if you were to scream it would come out muffled as the world was blotted out by the writhing darkness.

---

The moment you were spat out from the inky prison you were on a shore...a tiny island with a cave in the center.

You were surrounded by the bog and your heart sped up when you saw the water froth and churn.

Out of the murk popped the small skeletal creature...white eyes.

He watched you curiously before sliding up onto the island. His lower body made you actually smile, he looked like some sort of blue newt from the waist down. That was it. You had to have bumped your head and were slowly bleeding out. None of this was possible.

So, since this is probably a weird dream induced by bloodless, you may as well be nice. You smile and wave to the creature who looks shocked and  his skeletal face flushes a bright blue as little wisps of blue light curl around him.

He Pat's his face roughly and scampers off into the cave.

"Bye lil guy." 

The next thing you know you are being tackled and you are staring up at a grinning maw full of sharp teeth and slit red eyes.

"Um...are you going to eat me?"

If you are already dying you may as well just get that question out of the way. The newt skeleton seemed harmless...but this one…

It looked more like one of those lizards that catches fish, it had sharp claws on both its skeletal and reptilian appendages. This was a predator and it could rip you apart...yet you were suprised when it laughed and started ...purring?

It was a gravely sound that you felt in your bones, but it was strangely warm.

"Heh, cute but I'm not gonna even try songbird. Skull would kill me...oh speak of the devil. Goodluck sweetness.~"

He scrambled off of you, but not before licking your cheek with a forked red tongue.

He too wandered off to the cave...it struck you that these creatures could talk, which sent your mind reeling, even as you were picked up by curling black tentacles.

You crossed your arms and looked at the creature holding you.

Skull...right?

"So...are you going to eat me?"

Skull...looked horrified. His one eye light got impossibly small and he surged out of the water, reaching out to hold you...your clothing was no doubt ruined by now and everything felt so surreal. He scooped you up and you were shocked by how warm he was.

"No. Wont. Keep you safe."

You blinked softly.

Huh.

"Can I go home?"

You were squeezed a little tighter and you realized he was bringing you to the cave.

"Keep you safe."

You were placed up high on a rocky shelf that was covered with sweet smelling moss and animal skins. tentacles retreating after softly patting your head. You blinked in the low light.

It...was a little home? The cave had three rocky pools of water and some different shelves and outcroppings. You held in your grasp of wonder as all around you little jars filled with bioluminescent blue mushrooms blinked to life in the growing gloom. 

You may be dead...but you guessed there were worse places to be dead. You looked down and waved at the little newtiton and received a wink from the skelezard.

Skull was winding himself into a ball of tentacles inside the biggest pool while the other two were resting on old animal skins and warming up by a fire that crackled with the smell of roasting fish.

You sighed softly and laid down on the surprisingly soft moss.

You guessed this was fine for now.

It is not like you had anywhere to be and you were safe, unless you were already dead...plus you probably were in shock, nothing felt real right now.

Closing your eyes you heard three separate voices call out to say the same thing.

" Good night songbird" 

---

"How long do you think she will sleep for?"

Sans stifled a yawn as he had stayed up to chat with the others.

It was no fair, he had found you first, someone singing in the early morning just for him. He had hoped to lure you with the will-o-the-wisp's into the water at first but in the end he had let you go. You were just...your song was so sad.

Mournful.

He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, and you came back. A new song each day that felt like it was just for him.

Then Red had to show up and decide he liked your singing too.

And you came once or twice at night so, skull found out too. Skull was dangerous, sans thought for sure you were dead but the behemoth seemed smitten. He liked your happy songs filled with love, your sad songs filled with loss...you sounded like you had lived all these songs.

Then you came to the fen not with a song, but with tears, with frustration and heartbreak.

And yet you had still called their home beautiful...their lights that they put up to cheer you...you called them beautiful too.

And of course it was hard to hold skull back from wanting to take you then.

"I dunno squirt. But Hell. I know she deserves some sleep...she always looks so tired. But she still hikes out here everyday."

Red growled and looked up at your sleeping form.

Their songbird was suffering all this time and they never noticed until now.

It made his instincts flare up. He had to protect you...he had to, you were too fragile to keep out of sight for long.

If he did someone else might hurt you.

You were better off here.

He may be adverse to skulls method of getting you here, but now that you were…

"So, we all agree we are keeping her?"

Sans thought it over and nodded, he may not want to share, but he was stuck in this situation now.

"...I mean...I don't want her to leave, and she is so tiny and thin. We should probably take care of her."

"Protect little bird. Needs to eat more."

Skull was already in full nesting mode with you here. It was weird to see someone so...feral become a purring kitten in your presence.

They all stopped and stared all three skulls snapping up to the shelf when you cooed out a little yawn before rolling over in your sleep. 

"...too cute."

Skull was holding his face and twirling his tentacles into tight knots. He probably wanted to hold you.

"Stars, yeah we gotta keep her. I'll get her more furs for her nest tomorrow."

And now Red was gone too. His mind working on instinct to protect, provide and comfort.

Though sans was not much better. He was already trying to figure out where to catch more humans and extort them for favours so they would give him things for you.

Yes. They all looked at each other and nodded.

The songbird was theirs. The world would never harm them again.

[orionsangel86]

“I Think It’s Time For Me To Move On”

...And Other Things That Have Destroyed Me This Weekend...

So there is this common trope within love stories which generally happens at the end of the second act in which everything goes wrong and we all think that the lovers are doomed to failure. Its pretty much standard in every Jane Austen novel, every romantic film every made, every single bloody love story. Go ahead, name one. I guarantee you the break up moment is there.

Within the epic love story of Dean and Cas, there have been many break up moments, and all have had their emotionally devastating impact on the relationship and the show...

But THIS was a different level. 

(For a nice summary of Destiel break up moments and understanding of this trope, @tinkdw​ wrote about it here.)

I didn’t think that there would be another moment within Dean and Cas’s relationship that could hit me this hard. The mixtape in 12x19, the wrapping of Cas’s body in 13x01, and the return of Cas in 13x05 are moments that I consider to be the very top of the scale in making this pairing undeniably romantic. Moments that pushed it beyond a platonic interpretation. These three moments have been the things I cling to when the show has otherwise made me doubt any conclusion to the DeanCas story, and since there hasn’t been another one of those moments since 13x05, until now I have been somewhat nervous that the story was dropped, or being forced back behind a platonic screen. 

15x03 has ripped that screen away. 

Emotional meta under cut...

This entire episode was an emotion fuelled dramatic roller-coaster that killed off three characters including our beloved witch queen in a scene that almost stole the show and practically canonised the SamWitch ship. Rowena’s death should have been by far the most torturous moment for viewers to endure, and it was extremely torturous and had me sobbing on a plane 3 hours into a 7 hour flight. That incredibly heartfelt moment between Sam and Rowena will probably go down as one of the top tear-jerking moments on this show. It was tragic in the best way - the way Supernatural is famous for.

But lets not gloss over the fact that in an episode where THAT should have been the climax, where THAT should have been the emotional highlight and end point, instead we get a further MORE dramatic stand off between Dean and Cas that pulled focus and ripped all of our hearts out just as violently as poor Ketch in the first act (a very clever and smug piece of meta foreshadowing there Mr Berens).

On a meta level, this is HUGE as a writing choice because they MUST know how this looks. This was the climax of the third episode of the finale season. The way Supernatural has always structured itself since Carver era is that the first three mytharc episodes of each season establish the direction of the story and set the foundations for the character level focal points and dramatic key notes to come. 

That the writers have chosen to end the foundation episodes with a DeanCas break up moment that was more dramatic than a Spanish Telenovela has just stunned me and left me reeling because I just can’t see how else this can go. This break up scene absolutely DEMANDS a huge reconciliation of the sort that will be part of the A plot of the season - the FINAL SEASON. Guys. Part of the reason I have been so quiet and so disillusioned with the show during late season 13 and season 14 was because they pushed any Destiel plot into non existent territory - it became kinda irrelevant and Dean and Cas just acted like friends (homoerotic friends yes, and sometimes like an old married couple, but it was mostly played as an afterthought imo), so for this to suddenly be brought to the forefront of the emotional story again is excellent news for us. 

The thing is, like with those huge moments I listed above, the break up scene is basically undeniably romantic when you break it down to its components:

1. It’s only Dean and Cas. 

Once again we have another scene of high stake emotions that excludes Sam. In a platonic reading of the show, it makes zero sense for there to be such a hugely disjointed relationship between Cas and Dean and Cas and Sam given he has known them both for so long now that if they were all “just friends” then surely Sam would also feel the impact of Cas’s choices as heavily as Dean. In a platonic reading, Dean comes across as an asshole, Sam comes across as being weirdly uncaring about his friend of 10 years, and Cas comes across as not even bothering to get Sam’s opinion before leaving. A romantic reading makes sense because quite literally THIS IS A ROMANTIC BREAK UP.

2. The words spoken. 

“Well I don’t think there is anything left to say.”

“I think it’s time for me to move on”

From Cas’s perspective at least, name one time in a piece of media where such language has been used for a platonic breakup sincerely? There have been heartfelt break up songs that use these exact words. (I should know I’ve spent the last 24 hours listening to them all).

That last line in particular is so heavy. It’s the last line of the episode and nothing about it is platonic. This is relationship terminology my dudes. “I need to move on, and get over you.” This is Cas’s bloody Adele song. My heart breaks for him, but if I was his sassy and fabulous best girlfriend right now I’d be sitting him down, sipping a cocktail, flipping my hair and telling him “Babe, you’re too good for him. Good Riddance. Let’s go out, have some cocktails, something pink and fruity. No dive bars for us darling. I’ll take you to Heaven... the fun one in London.”

In all seriousness though, from Cas’s perspective, this was him admitting defeat and giving up the fight for love. How anyone can possibly say Cas isn’t in love with Dean after this, well I just don’t know what show you are watching. This is the face of a heartbroken man who has just accepted that his love is unrequited. 

3. The many faces of Dean Winchester

On the other end of the scale, Dean was mostly silent after his poisonous words “And why does that something always seem to be you?”

Forgive the terrible gif quality I’ve no time for fancy gif work!

Look at his face here. He knows what he said was fucked up and he immediately regrets it. The way he swallows around that regret and then turns away.

and after Cas says that devastating final line and walks away? We get THIS reaction from him:

The jaw clench as he looks down. The sorrow on his face as he realises he has well and truly fucked this up. LOOK

Finally, he looks up, makes himself look up and watch Cas leave. If that isn’t the face of a broken man I dunno what to tell you. Anyone who thinks Dean is totally heartless and uncaring right now needs to reassess because this is NOT the face of someone uncaring. This is the face of someone who has just lost everything. Again. 

4. The FUCKING MUSIC

Seriously. The sweeping heavy drama of the low strings that come in right after Dean says that horrid line, that carry the weight of the look of horror and heartbreak on Cas’s face as they amplify the emotion there. As they blend seamlessly into the slow and subtle version of the Winchester family theme behind Cas’s heartbreaking speech and Dean’s stubborn stoic face hiding a multitude of emotion, until the violin dominates as Cas says “I think it’s time for me to move on” and the Winchester Theme swells to its climax, ripping all our hearts out just like poor Ketch as Dean watches Cas walk out of his life surrounded by darkness. 

I MEAN.

A friend on Twitter reminded us all of this point about the importance of this theme via @justanotheridijiton​ here which is essentially:

“The Winchester theme is not simply an aural marker to let the audience know when and how Sam and Dean love each other (any Supernatural fan knows that is the baseline of their relationship), but to provide narrative information, especially when the image and dialogue are incomplete or inconsistent with the true situation...  Seasoned fans will recognize the theme and its history of being paired with images indicating deep emotional bonding and a desire to do the right thing by the Winchester code. Here we trust our ears over our eyes to reveal the truth.”

So here is yet another key indicator that any surface read that this is actually an ending between Dean and Cas and that Dean really is just an angry asshole is utter bullshit. 

Honestly, this was PAINFUL, but it was painful in the best way. It was 13x01 levels of pain, but this time it was Cas choosing to walk away which makes all the difference. Dean’s greatest fear isn’t his loved ones dying on him after all, but of his loved ones choosing to leave him. This was exactly the kick up the ass Dean needs in order to win Cas back, classic love trope style. 

Hence my excitement at what is to come. Yes we won’t see Cas again until 15x06, but in the meantime I fully expect a good helping of angst and wallowing from a depressed Dean who has to deal with the fact that he has just lost the love of his life and it is all his fault. That he just pushed away the one person who promised they would always stay by his side. That has got to hurt. 

So yeah, this episode emotionally destroyed me, and I’ve only really covered the primary reason, let alone all my feels over SamWitch, Rowena’s death, Belphegor’s taunting of Cas over his deepest fears and then having to suffer through smiting a creature wearing the face of his son until his body was nothing but a burnt corpse... I wonder if Bobo had a bet going in the office over how much he could hurt us all? He was certainly enjoying scrolling through the Supernatural tag on Twitter and liking everyone’s reaction tweets including some brilliant Destiel related ones. I do love Bobo. Our Angst Goblin King. 

If anyone had asked me a few weeks ago what my thoughts were on the chances of getting explicit canon Destiel by series end, I would have said somewhere in the realms of 30-40%, considering it a battle of wills between DabbBerens and CW studio execs who I still feel are against it in general. I would have considered everything that happened after 13x06 as the writers getting a big NO on Destiel from the network and therefore having to pull back on any Destiel related plot points (purely my own speculation on BTS matters of course).

Now I am wondering if Dabb kept fighting the network? If he managed to wear them down into begrudging acceptance? I’m currently up to around an 80% chance of textual canon DeanCas if we continue on this path. If Dean is clearly shown to be mourning and hating himself over Cas next episode, and if this DeanCas dramatic plot line continues to be a focal point of the emotional story arcs... well...

I’m side eyeing 15x07 a lot right now. Only in my wildest dreams would I think that they might actually introduce an old boyfriend for Dean in a “coming out” episode, but the placement, timing, and potential is all there and I’m kind of once again donning the clown mask because I’m just in awe at everything that they are doing. I guess we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I’m gonna paint my face in red and white and wear my rainbow wig and listen to break up songs on Spotify whilst trying to shove my heart back into my chest where Bobo Beren’s gleefully ripped it out with his hands like the demonic angst goblin he is. Wish me luck, I’m not sure I’m gonna get through this season with my emotions intact.

[luisa2swag]

Love me for me (2)

"If you're so great how come you don't know how to tie your shoes properly, doo-doo head ?" I shot back, taking a step closer with my chin up, finger pointing at his untied basketball shoes. Jungkook scoffed "why am I even here arguing with you? You sure talk a lot but you forget that your last name is Mcniplecocker. Thats an instant L"

he towered over you, chest looking larger than usual thanks to the tight white shirt that stuck to his body with sweat. Your eyes darted to his nipple and before he could even muster another insult, His nipples were firmly grasped between your thumbs and index fingers, twisting away with all your might.

Your lips tugged upwards in satisfaction when he let out a yell of surprise and pain.

"What the actual fuck?!" He backed away, freeing himself from your hands. You smirked "Now you know why my last name is Mcniplecocker. Because I twist nipples and I certainly do have a cock!"

You were shameless as you said theses words. Jungkook couldn't even bother thinking of something else to say other than "okay I'm leaving." As you watched him walk away from you in the empty classroom. You saw him turn the doorknob but he did not move.

Was he maybe going to say something?

The tugs at the door knob became more violent with each twist and you could see Jungkook losing patience. His shoulders slumped, "We're locked in."

"W-what?"

[THREE HOURS BEFORE BEING LOCKED]

"W-wow." You looked at the school in amazement, boxes in your hands, you watched as the other male students buzzled around campus with their parents and installed themselves into their dorms.

You didn't have the luxury of being here with your dad. Imagine one of the most wanted criminals in the past setting foot into a place filled with lawyers. Your plan would be immediately dead but most importantly, you'd be behind bars.

This school must of been as old as Harvard. The building resembled the ones they would teach about in history class -You know the medieval ages- only the inside had been done up.

They were the only University that didn't open its gates to every gender which only lured more male heirs from all over the planet.

Parents thought that no girls meant no distractions but what they failed to know was that in 2018,some boys didn't just like girls.

"Hey, do you want help? You seem lost.." startled at the sudden deep voice coming from your right side, you jumped a bit.

Turning around to take a look at who had the audacity to initiate a conversation with your lonely ass. To be completely honest, you had just been standing around, mouth agape, looking at boys passing you by.

Holy shit he's hot

Instantly, you felt blood rush to your cheeks, you hoped that he wouldn't notice. He stood tall compared to you, nose long and eyes almost rectangle-ish. The sun and the ore gold were both jealous of his heavenly skin. You watched as he ran a large hand through his chestnut hair.

"Uh-huh" was all you could muster. A frown draped itself on your features, realizing how dumb and un-dude-ish you just sounded. Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on yourself, nothing could prepare you to the fact that a freaking model would be here speaking to your thirsty ass.

"Are you perhaps looking for your dorm? I had tricky time finding mine too in my first year." His voice god his voice.

"Am Taehyung, by the way." He smiled, a smile so adorable you couldn't help but smile back too.

"Am Bob, yeah I think I need help."you smiled sheepishly, holding your box closer to your chest.

"Alright, ill need the number of your dorm."

"67-b"

"Ahhh, that's the law dorms. So you're a law student huh? So am I." He seemed excited. Long legs already taking the lead to find your dorm.

"Are you a third year student or ?" You asked, now entering the dorm you presumed to be yours.

"No, just a second year." He smiled.

You both walked in a comfortable silence until he stopped infront of a door. "67-b is here." He said with the nod of his head, leaning against the wall near the door.

"Do we usually have roommates?" You read that since it was such a prestigious and little school, they would give you your own room but you needed to be sure. You didn't want any surprises. "Yeah it'll just be you in there." He affirmed with his usual dashing smile.

"Official classes start in two days but if you want, you could still go check out the classrooms. There won't be any teachers so make sure you leave the door open or else you might be surprised."

"Oh okay." You didn't bother dropping your voice a couple octaves, sure that in the near future where you could be possibly drunk or inattentive, It'd royally fuck you up. You found it to be a better idea to stick to your normal low but warm voice and let the guys think that "oh, his voice sounds slightly feminine!"

You took a step back, hoodie floating around your body and hiding your womanly curves the best it could, you bowed slightly "thank you so much. I hope I'll see you around school!" You actually did hope to see him around .

Not only was he devilishly handsome but very sweet. You wouldn't mind spending time with him all while gawking at his beauty greater than the Greek gods. "If you want, in about three hours I'll be able to hang. I would've been available way sonner if it wasn't for the fact that we both need to unpack a little bit. We could meet up at your new law class? What do you say?" He pointed finger guns at you, only making you blush more.

Fuck he doesn't even know I am a girl and here I am blushing like a schoolgirl just because he invited me to hang out.

"I'd love to I-I mean yeah, that be cool dude." Awkwardly, you raised a fist in the air which he happily bumped. "Okay I'll be off now!"

And just like that, the chestnut haired boy was out of your feet with hop of his own. Leaving you to unpack with the sound of 90's music from your cellphone.

Your room was a decent size, a simple bed on the left with a desk on the right, a tiny kitchen area and out and down the hallways were the shared bathrooms.

You took out the basics, some clothes, toothbrush, the frozen goods your dad had cooked you and bedsheets. You'd finish up your room later,after seeing Taehyung.

Yeah, I'll do this as soon as I get back!

[thirty minutes before being locked]

Your room looked neat. There were still some boxes here and there but you promised yourself to unpack them as soon as you got back.

Now you had changed into a comfortable black t-shirt and joggers.You made sure to duck-tape your breast, of course.

You stepped outside, the sun hung lower but still shined and the wind blew, giving you a comfortable breeze. The other students also seemed to take this evening as a chance to explore the campus more.

You watched as two boys ran, almost bumping you on their way. The shorter one with plump lips turned and blurted a bunch of apologizes before his taller lean friend dragged him by the collar. "Cmon Jimin, we need to get him !" And they were gone, leaving you to wonder exactly who they were going to get.

You continued making your way to the class, eventually finding it.

It was spacious just like in the movies about college life. You quickly found yourself a the front where the teacher desk was but before that you made sure to keep the door open, starring into space and waiting for the young man. You heard foot-steps and a smile already adorned your features.

You turned around, waiting to be met with the chestnut haired boy but you were just met face to face with a chestnut haired boy, that wasn't your chestnut haired boy.

"Erm, sorry." You squirmed away as the buff boy with the angular nose reached to grab something behind you.

"Were you really trying to steal the notes professor had prepared for me?" He took out a sheet of paper almost out of thin air and you just stared in amazement until it hit you.

Hold on, did this guy just accuse me ?

"W-what? I didn't even know that was there. I don't even know who you are!" Brows twisted together in confusion, you couldn't help but dart your eyes to the paper and to his piercing gaze, examining me like a corpse.

I gulped when he crossed his arms over his chest, oblivious to his flexing, he stood about one head and a half taller than me.

"You're lying. Everyone knows me." He scoffed, confident in the words he spoke as I blinked away, still In confusion.

"Come again?" I tried, I really genuinely had no clue who this dude was. I mean yeah he's kinda cute or whatever but with an attitude like that, I don't see him having any friends.

"Of course you would play dumb, well you are dumb for trying to steal my notes. Maybe you should take the initiative like me and ask teachers to prepare you notes of everything you'll have to study for the semester." His thin upper lip twitched upwards, his eyes trailing over my body, probably judging.

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge lil punk, school hasn't even started yet and to inform you, i am the smartest student here, I don't need your bitchass notes to be able to catch up on class before class has even started."ooooh I burned his bunny looking ass!

A smirk adorned my full lips when I noticed the blush spread across his cheeks like wildfire. I watched as his confident facade slowly broke when he took a step back.

"I guess you really don't know me then, my name is Jeon Jungkook." Now he was the one with the smirk.

I deadpanned, "Uh, yeah I totally know you. Omg I cant believe I didn't realize sonner!" Arms crossed, I rolled my eyes.

"Think harder dumbass. Jeon Jungkook, doesn't that ring any bells?"

I thought hard, past all the cat memes, gta on PlayStation 2 cheat codes, my club penguin password, the pin of my first iPod. Past all the unnecessary things my brain stored I finally found what he has hinting.

All boys : Great Jeon University

It couldn't be, no .

Or could it be ? With my luck it could. His smile grew larger as he saw my eyes widen in shock. "Don't tell me this is some crappy wattpad plot where your family happens to own this school?" I already dreaded the answer I knew I would get. "Yes it is." His chest proudly rose.

"Well I couldn't care less , dumbass." I stated, indifferent.

"I just told you that my family basically owns this place and you don't give a shit?" Index pointed at my face, he asked dumbfounded. Not sure if my lack of respect for him should be a good thing or not. "You have a lot of guts for saying that to the great Jeon."

"If you're so great how come you don't know how to tie your shoes properly, doo-doo head ?" I shot back, taking a step closer with my chin up, finger pointing at his untied basketball shoes. Jungkook scoffed "why am I even here arguing with you? You sure talk a lot but you forget that your last name is Mcniplecocker. Thats an instant L" Your eyes twitched confused, how did he know your name? Then your orbs wondered down to your shirt who haired had gifted you as a joke with your fake name written just above your left tit.

he towered over you, chest looking larger than usual thanks to the tight white shirt that stuck to his body with sweat. Your eyes darted to his nipple and before he could even muster another insult, His nipples were firmly grasped between your thumbs and index fingers, twisting away with all your might.

Your lips tugged upwards in satisfaction when he let out a yell of surprise and pain.

"What the actual fuck?!" He backed away, freeing himself from your hands. You smirked "Now you know why my last name is Mcniplecocker. Because I twist nipples and I certainly do have a cock!"

[taehyung pov]

I don't remember the building being so far... I entered the law block, nothing but the sound of my sneakers against the wood floor could be heard. Hallways were clear and so was the sky this evening. I smiled thinking of the new friend I had made.

Pat pat pat I whipped my head around st the sudden running noise "Jimin? Namjoon?" My brows arched in confusion, I watched how they frantically started shouting my name.

I looked back to the front

The class where I had so kindly asked you to meet up with me was maybe twenty steps away

I couldn't just blow you off, no that wasn't something I'd want at all.

But with a blink of an eye and a stumbling Jimin, we we're passed the door and left behind a loud clacking noise. In fear of having accidentally closed the door shut, I twisted my neck to look back all while running with the two grown man looped around my arms. "J-Jimin, the d-door!" I let out breathless, heart thumping

"Guys -wait there's someone-" Jimin quickly interrupted "Yoongi snuck a girl on campus!" I looked back again, wishing that my gut feeling was wrong, wishing I hadn't just locked someone in a classroom.

She might be late, everyone comes late nowadays! I reassured myself.

With a aggressive tug of my sleeve from Namjoon, I realized that I didn't have a choice.

I'll come back later, I promise.

[Narrator pov] You were shameless as you said theses words. Jungkook couldn't even bother thinking of something else to say other than "okay I'm leaving." As you watched him walk away from you in the empty classroom. You saw him turn the doorknob but he did not move.

Was he maybe going to say something?

The tugs at the door knob became more violent with each twist and you could see Jungkook losing patience. His shoulders slumped, "We're locked in."

"W-what?"

[merelliahallewell]

The Drust in Battle for Azeroth

This is the second of four? posts looking at the Drust using the in-game and developer information we have available to us. I find the Drust incredibly interesting villains who manage to have some understandable motivations (at least in BfA) and also a neat aesthetic. The Drust and their history and influence are what elevate the questing zone to being more than just a Witcher ripoff and gives it its own cool identity. 

You can find Part 1 here. Anyway, here we go with BfA lore. This one is a bit of a doozy, be warned.

Part 3 - The Drust in Ardenweald

Part 4 - The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (1)

Part 5 - The Drust in the Night Fae Campaign (2)

Before BfA

It isn’t known how long it took for the Drust to be defeated- we’re only given very rough timeframes. The dungeon journal suggests that they were defeated two thousand years ago, but that leaves 700 years between human settlement and the final end to the Drust, which seems a touch long. Ultimately, the timeline doesn’t matter so much as the impression that the Drust have been there for a long time. 

Most Drustvari have a healthy superstition of witchcraft that comes from even before the Heartsbane rose, and it does not necessarily seem to be tied to Thros in their minds. As shown by Emma Mayfield and the Witch in the Woods, one also does not need to be a Heartsbane witch to utilize the power of Thros. It is possible that many generations of Kul Tiran witches could have been communing with Thros in various ways, just as they are implied to have made pacts with demons. 

Drust Incursion

The Heartsbane Coven was formed at Gorak Tul’s command, after a dark bargain was struck between him and Meredith Waycrest. Tul promised her that her ailing husband would be safe from death, and it seems as if his price was that she would follow his commands and free him from the prison of Thros.

The Heartsbane Coven has a neat history that can be read through the eyes of the citizens of Corlain. I love the Coven and I think they’re really interesting- but since this post is focused on the Drust, we’re going to try to stick to viewing them through that context. 

It seems as if the Heartsbane are portryaed as the successors in inheritors of the Drust’s legacy. They wield not only their power, but utilize the same sorts of horrific rituals and strategies that can be seen in Ardenweald.

The most potent weapon the Coven wields is the Heartsbane Curse. This curse allowed them to mentally enslave hundreds of residents of Corlain and most members of the Waycrest Guard. This curse, likely created by the Drust, is eerily similar to something we will see later on. On top of that, they used the curse to great effect on the local fauna, turning the birds and beasts of Drustvar into servants.

As the war with the humans turned against them, the Drust crafted many constructs in order to house the spirits of the fallen, allowing them a second chance to battle against the humans. The constructs were made of incredible materials such as Revlis and Hailstone. Though they could not craft the powerful constructs the Drust had once created, they mimicked them with wood, bone, and wicker. They made a number of various wicker monsters as well, the majority crafted deep within the Crimson Forest, though others were made across the mountains in Barrowknoll. They stitched monstrosities together from pig and human flesh, animated with dark magic. 

“There is more to worry about in this land than simple beasts. Our enemy employs constructs of wicker and bone that can rip a man apart…”

These armies of flesh abominations and “wooden demons” were more than enough to to match whatever forces in Drustvar had not been enslaved by the Heartsbane already. The constructs were enough to defeat even the Lord-Admirals elite guards. The Coven took Drustvar by storm after taking Corlain with ease. Some witches were sent to infiltrate towns such as Arom’s Stand and Fallhaven, while they used their forces to directly attack Falconhurst, take control of the Crimson Forest, and attack Fletcher’s Hollow after they discovered a powerful artifact. Glenbrook not only lost much of its population to the Coven or the monsters in the woods, but also had the very land around it darkened by their magic. 

If they had not been stopped by the hunch Lucille Waycrest had regarding their magic, it is entirely likely the Heartsbane would have overwhelmed Kul Tiras, which was entering a three-sided civil war at that point in time. The Drust would most certainly have been released from Thros at that point, with the Heartsbane as their eager servants. Drustvar was near-completely under their control by the time the Adventurer showed up. 

It is an important point to mention that the Drust had direct involvement with the armies the Heartsbane raised. The wicker constructs were inhabited by either souls that were tormented and broken into serving the Heartsbane or Drust spirits called from Thros. Generally the ones in the Crimson Forest appear to house Drust, while the Soulbound Goliath and wicker men in Barrowknoll held enslaved souls. The Heartsbane also adopted the standard of the Drust, painted in blood (right). On the left is what is used in Ardenweald. It appears that the strength of an enslaved soul (or combination of numerous souls) directly corresponded to the power of a wicker construct.

Even as they fought for control of Drustvar, the Heartsbane worked feverishly to bring their master back to the world via a magical ritual held deep underneath Gol Inath. This ritual was called the Grand Rite, and required a massive effort held across the whole Crimson Forest. It appears the Grand Rite was meant to rip open a hole in reality to allow Thros’ minions in. While this rite was somewhat weakened by the activity of the Adventurer, Gorak Tul was still able to cross over briefly before retreating back into Thros. It is possible the Grand Rite was later completed fully within Waycrest Manor so that the events of the dungeon could occur.

Gorak Tul arrives in Azeroth for real this time via a set of ruins buried far beneath Waycrest Manor. He’s hugely threatening here, and summons additional Drust to aid him in battle. Tul still bears his vrykul frame, though he’s changed greatly, acquiring a strange amount of growth on his body like a tree almost, and his skin looks like bark. He even has a third eye. Seriously, this guy is menacing. These other Drust can also be seen being summoned by Heartsbane ritualists within Corlain, and it’s very unusual just how twisted and blighted they look compared to Tul. They seem absolutely malformed, more like Gollum than a vrykul. Could this be some effect of Thros after their long imprisonment?

A small aside: Drust undead were stirred from their long slumber by the Heartsbane magic. It seems as if it is capable of waking the dead in some fashion, though it almost seems to be from ambient magic rather than directed necromancy. Kinda neat. 

Into Thros

Just a few things to wrap up with BfA and the Drust. There are minor bits of their lore I didn’t mention that are doable in Archaeology, which is worth it if you want to fly around pretty zones and dig up relics. 

The isle of Fate’s End is located some distance from Stormsong Valley, and features Drust ruins upon it. Apparently, nobody returns from Fate’s End if they’re sent there. It’s here that Jaina appears to have been taken into Thros. Is it some sort of a natural gateway to the place that’s one way only? Maybe a place where people were unknowingly sacrificed to Gorak Tul? Whatever it is, it’s wild. You can fly there in-game, but in the story only a Tidesage can take you out there. It’s interesting that the Tidesages have developed a special rite in order to reach it, and I’m curious if that implies that the Tidesages dealt with Drust magic in the past or know how to negate it with their own power. It’s food for thought, for sure. 

Thros itself is nothing special, alas. It’s just a color-swapped Drustvar with some more of those weird Drust and Gorak Tul hanging out. Honestly it’s a bit disappointing, but there is some interesting lore that comes from Ulfar during these quests. Ulfar also says some pathways are best left closed- lest those on the other side use them instead. Up until then, he was unaware of Tul’s return.

The entrance to Thros lies within the great tree, Gol Inath, but crossing the threshold will not be as simple as walking through. To open the path, you will need an effigy of great strength. Not one of the trinkets of the coven, mind you, but one of old, Drust magic. The path to Thros will be treacherous, but that is merely a fraction of what awaits you inside the Blighted Lands. Prepare yourself, <class>, for the minions of Thros will use your deepest fears and regrets as a weapon against you.

Once you have collected the necessary reagents to build an effigy and enter Thros, he says this:

I wish you luck on your journey, mainlander. Tread carefully, for Gorak Tul's eyes will be upon you.

He is vulnerable within his own realm, and he will go to great lengths to prevent you from entering it.

Katherine Proudmoore, the then-ruler of Kul Tiras, remarked that most people believed Thros only to be something of rumor and legend, not an actual place one could travel to. 

The Blighted Lands...

If the legends are true then inside we will witness suffering and torment the likes of which we have never known...

The whole journey through Thros is interesting, as Gorak Tul clearly considers Jaina his most valuable prisoner. Eventually you catch up, have a neat cinematic, and battle him to the death. Gorak Tul’s death speech offers a hint of what is to come for Ardenweald in Shadowlands. 

Your hollow victory... means nothing...

The Drust... will never... relent...

Dying with his last breath, Tul's corpse fades away. 

One final mystery

The Waycrest manor dungeon is pretty neat, but hardly contains anything Drust-related save for the ruins deep underneath. It is especially disappointing that Gorak Tul’s boss fight room is the same one you fight him in beneath Gol Inath- apparently the Drust really liked that design, or maybe it’s best-suited for portals to Thros.

However, there is one bit of unique architecture. Created by artist Fanny Vergne, there is some sort of a design etched into the ground beneath the organ the Waycrests are playing. It looks like a worm, or a serpent with runes carved into it? I wonder if it is supposed to be some sort of horrific Thros monster or something else. In the files of the game, it is apparently labeled as “Jormungandr“ which is a Norse mythological being. Interestingly, the runes do not match any known Vrykul or Drust runes used in the game’s environmental art. I wonder if the artist would be able to shed more light on it or if it’s just a neat design.