#if anyone cares to know this is my exploration of a (natural) (but painful) decay of a relationship

[satohqbanana]

Call Me Like You Love Me

Summary: Rhen and Lars call each other names a lot. Then they don't.

Notes:

I dug this up in my drafts. I knew it was going to be a friendship Larshen, but I got hurt reading it nonetheless. I touched this up a bit to alter some parts that didn't quite fit the emotion and thought I perceived through this story. By the way, the names aren't canon, but I just like name-based intimacy.

(Story below cut)

Rhen observes, Lars is more than fond of calling her "Rhenellaine" than simply "Rhen".

Not even Dameon uses her first name in full. Rhen doesn't know what he thinks about her silly birth name, but it's probably similar with her own thoughts - it's pretty cheesy, kinda cliche, but definitely reserved for moments of intimacy and heightened emotions.

And as for her own feelings towards the name, she finds it too long. For a while, she forgets it; prefers the simplified "Rhen Darzon" and uses that whenever a signature is necessary.

Her memories are definitely hazy on how Lars acquired this knowledge. Perhaps she'd been careless in the past. She remembers him sing-songing "Rhen-a-Rhen", and it sounds close to her own name. Maybe an argument or two happened, but what definitely happened was that Lars took a deep liking to it.

There wasn't much she could do to retaliate, except mention his name only when necessary. She loves the face he makes when she refers to him as "the noble brat", or "the sorcerer I graduated with", or "the man I still babysit". Their party thinks it's funny, and even moreso when Galahad strictly refers to Lars as "boy" or "sorcerer".

(Besides, those names and monikers are much better than "Peta" and "Grasshead" - both innocent to outsiders, but reminiscent of a past best kept to the grave.)

Lars never calls her that long name in battle. It's definitely a mouthful to say. He prefers to say it when he's teasing her, or when he's being sarcastic. She notices he never calls her that either when he's pissed off and angry.

Likewise, she only ever calls him by name during the heat of battle. It's short and great for barking orders here and there.

So it's weird.

It's weird that at the mansion in Sedona, he offers her his sincerest apologies--

"I don't know if it's too late for me to say this, but… you deserve to hear this at least. I, I've been a jerk to you this whole time, and… you didn't deserve any of that. I'm sorry… Rhen."

--but it's her nickname that spills from his lips.

It's weird that the night before they face Ahriman, he looks at her with such gentleness, holds her hands in a firm grip, but struggles to form words--

"Rhen… Rhen, I… my, my name… ugh, forget it. I'm nervous. Don't die on me, I mean."

--and still it's her nickname he uses.

So when they finish the whole Ahriman thing and return, she realizes that Lars only utters her nickname now. She loses Dameon, and Lars comforts her--

"You'll find other lovers, Rhen. Better ones."

--but though his words reassures her, it feels so distant, the way Lars says her nickname.

Then, they report to the Oracle, Rhen chooses her fate, and they part their ways. Lars rushes home, and Rhen makes haste to the kingdom she is meant to rule.

By the time that Rhen catches up with the utmost needs of Thais, she realizes Lars completely stopped correspondence. She thinks of sending a letter, but the right words never come to mind. She still has so much to do, so much to think about.

It is during a visit to Veldarah that the pieces of the puzzle fall together.

It is the marriage of a prince, and to honor alliances, Rhen decides to attend. The culture of the Eastern Empire is vastly different, but the Queen of Thais is allowed to witness the main matrimonial rites.

Rhen tries to hide her surprise when she sees that the groom is none other than Lars Tenobor. His name spills from her lips on a hushed whisper, and it is during the ceremony that she hears of his full name - Lars Setiah Tenobor.

Her eyes never leave him as her mind plays upon the concept of his being a prince, his marriage, and his full name that she never got to know, never heard from him.

They meet again at the reception dinner. Rhen pays her respects to the Empress, then to the newlyweds. Lars offers her a smile. He introduces his veiled bride to her and back, whose radiance emanates even when Rhen can barely see the other woman's face from beneath the layers of cloth.

Lars guides her through the conversation, does most of the talking, asks her lots of questions. She is slightly relieved, for she is not sure what to say. Her eyes keep on him, but his only briefly meets hers.

It's unfair, and she almost wants to punch him.

But she can't. She can't, because it's rude to his new wife, rude to the Empire. She can't, because the damage is done, and the distance is achingly obvious. She wants to break down and cry. She wants to hold her sword again, don her sword singer uniform, shed her royal identity and yell at Lars at the top of her lungs while he laughs and he makes sassy remarks and he calls her "Rhenellaine" again.

But she can't.

"It's nice. We haven't talked like this in a while… Lars."

And she can only call him by that one name.

He regards her one last time, and her name falls from his lips--

"Thank you, Rhen. Ahem, no, Your Majesty."

The space between them had become a chasm, and a suffocating pain throbs in her chest.

She limits her visits to Veldarah and the Eastern Empire for the rest of her life. She marries. She has children. She leads Thais into prosperity. She takes her last breath.

And though her diaries reveal it's always been a question in her mind, she never gets to know if Lars ever managed to abolish slavery.

[haematicmagic]

Raw, powerful and cursed quotes

So as someone who recently migrated from a Pinterest lurker of 3 years, reading every tumblr screenshot i could find, i have gathered quite a selection of cursed or raw quotes from the most classic tumblr posts and whatever the hell Gaud is doing. Some of these aren’t tumblr, but classic literature or musical quotes or poems. As i didn’t write them down, i cant give sources for every single one, but i can give them on request if you’re interested. Feel free to add more.

• „I‘ll do what I want“

„Then perish“

OR

„then become the dirt I walk on“

• „violence for violence is the rule of beasts“

• „to become god is the loneliest achievement of them all“

• „There are places we have never seen before: Soem have never seen the Ocean, have never laid eyes on marrakesh. The other world is just a place we haven’t visisted before and we’re gonna explore it together“

• “Auge um Auge und die Welt wird blind”

(German, translated to mean: An eye for an eye and the world goes blind)

• „You kneel before my throne, unaware that it was made of lies“

• “You’re rearranging deck chairs on the titanic my friend”

• “Bold of you to assume I (will meet a mortal end, have ambitions)”

• „I beg to differ“

„Then beg"

• „One day, you will be face to face with your gods and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled

• „the skin of the earth is littered with the ruins of empires that thought themselves immortal“

• „my Ancestors are smiling down on me. Can you say the same?“

• „Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something.“

• „god should have made girls lethal when he made monsters of men“

• „Decay exsists as a distant form of life“

• „Can you feel your heart burning? Can you feel the struggle within? The fear within me is beyond anything that your soul can comprehend. You cannot cure me in any way that matters.“

• „Draw a monster. Why is it a Monster?“

• „A year ago you didn’t know today“

• „She is a mystic in the sense that she is still mystified by things“

• „these hands have built bridges, they will not build walls“

• „the anger in your heart warms you now but will leave you cold in your grave“

• „The Man who sleeps with a machete is a fool every night but one“

• „Thats a funny trick to play on a god“

• „We can do any sins we want. There are no gods here to observe them“

• „we deserve a soft epilogue“

• „Starved dogs eat their masters.“

• „I am a monument to all your sins.“

• „Face your mortality, choose your requiem.“

• „I do not love the sword for its sharpness or the arrow for its swiftness nor the warrior for his glory. I can only love that which they defend“

• „Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars you have won“

• „Do you think God, too, stays in heaven in fear of what he has created?“

• „Good men need no rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many“

• „Nothing is set in stone, but everything is set in a dirt road. If you roll your waggon along that path too much, it‘ll soon be the only path you can take without struggling“

•„You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.“

„You seem a decent fellow. I hate to be killed by you.“

•„We are men of actions. Lies do not become us.“

•„The watch is ticking and I‘m no clockmaker“

•„Only when Lions have Historians will Hunters cease to be heroes“

•„If you consider a woman less pure after you touched her, you should take a look at your hands“

•„the fire can’t touch me, for I have have burned one too many times. And the sea can’t harm me, for I have been drowning all my life. But you, you could rip my heart open, darling, for I have never known love before.“

• „take no shit, do no harm“

• “Be a nuisance where it counts, Do your part to inform and stimulate the public to join your action. Be depressed, discouraged, and disappointed at failure and the disheartening effects of ignorance, greed, corruption, and bad politics—but never give up.”

• „Before you tell a tale of revenge, dig two graves

• „First we shape our tools, then our tools shape us.“

• „The future is what you make of it. Just know that your supplies are limited.“

• „bury me shallow, I‘ll be back"

• „This is Hell territory and I am impudent to no gods“

• „Sticks and Stones may build a throne but you‘ll be up there all alone“

• „I am deliberately taking this personally“

• „You’re still dodging my questions“

„you’re just missing“

• „Rome wasnt build in one day.

But it was burned one“

or

„But they layed bricks every hour“

• „You’re not as simple as they wanted you to be.“

• „Get off the ground, kid, spit your blood. Go down a savage, go down fighting.“

• „Educated Criminals work within the law“

• „Everyone is guilty of the good they did not to“

• „Even the ground wouldnt want you to rot in it“

• „War is old men talking and young men dying.“

• „I‘ll take care of you.

It‘s rotten work.

Not to me. Not if its you.“

• „What are you, before a human ready to fight“

• „Walls have ears

Doors have eyes

Trees have voices

beasts tell lies

Beware the rain

Beware the snow

Beware the man

you think you know“

• „This is who we are: A product of war.“

• „once a man, now deemed a fool“

• „What was that?

Probably God, looking down on his children and regretting that there even was a sixth day.“

• „We all just kill time until the killing time“

• „people will never bleed enough to meet your vision of justice“

• „There are three things all wise men fear: The sea in storm, a moonless night and the anger of a gentle man.“

• „Let me die first or I will die twice“

• „Looks like you dropped something.

What?

Your standards. Hi, I‘m XY“

• „In whatever matter it comes to be, love is never wrong, especially not between one that has so much of it to give and one so desperately in need of it.“

• „Heavy is the Crown and light as a feather the banner of rebellion"

• „I am not a vessel for your good intentions“

• „Every breath i take without your permission raises my self esteem“

• „Your boos mean nothing, I‘ve seen what makes you cheer“

• „In a rich man’s house there is no place to spit but his face.“

• „You could sooner divert a river from its course than deny my nature.“

• “I would rather die standing than live kneeling”

• “Life is all about pain and by god I will be it’s conduit.”

• “Ring the bells you still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That is how the light gets in”

• “Here’s a penny for your thoughts and a quarter to not tell me them.”

• “Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame”

• “To greed, all nature is insufficient”

• “We are rarely proud when we are alone”

• “I will love you like misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch as everything goes wrong”

• “You say I killed you - haunt me, then.”

• “But who are you, to consider yourself an enemy of humanity? Who are you, to define yourself as something else but them?”

[darkpoisonouslove]

Sleeping Beauty Missed Opportunities

I watched Disney’s Sleeping Beauty about ten days ago and I actually loved it a lot. The aesthetic is lovely and the music is absolutely ethereal, there was some awesome comedy and Maleficent remains such a cool villain even if she is not particularly competent at it, Phillip is probably the best Disney prince ever and I got all nostalgic so it was a great experience. I couldn’t help but notice a couple of things that had so much potential had they been explored and now I am going to write them out because they will simply not leave me alone.

- The fact that Flora’s gift to Aurora was beauty annoyed me a lot. So you’re telling me that her beauty is not only not natural, but it was also pretty much a gift wasted since it literally never played any role in anything. Aurora grew up in isolation so she could have looked as Godzilla for all anyone cared and it wouldn’t have made a difference. And to top it all, her beauty also does not play a role in Phillip falling in love with her because he falls in love with the beauty of her voice at first. It would have been much better if she was naturally pretty (as opposed to supernaturally so aka magically induced) and Flora had given her another gift. I suppose that since she is named Flora, she has something to do with flowers which is why her gift to Aurora was beauty. After all, flowers are there to look pretty and not much else. But I think it would have been a better idea if her gift to Aurora had been that of a nurturing touch that makes it so that Aurora nearly gives life to plants by just touching them. Animals are trickier but she can still heal and nurse them back to health with a little more effort. That would have been in contrast with Maleficent’s whole “kingdom” (aka the Forbidden Mountain) decaying and being in ruins and would have gone better with Fauna’s gift of the soul.

- In the scene where Maleficent appears to the Christening, it is Merryweather that tells her she was not wanted. Granted, the king and queen did not object to that but it was obvious they had already pissed off Maleficent so they probably didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the fairies whose benevolence they still had. When you think about it, though, it was Merryweather who escalated the situation into a disaster that could not be saved so my thought was that it would have been interesting to have learned a little bit more about the fairy ways and the conflict between the Three Good Fairies and Maleficent. Obviously, Maleficent has high social status since even the queen called her “Your Excellence” so the decision to not invite her to the Christening was weird and ill-advised. With a little more background info on the fairy business we could have witnessed the dilemma of the royal family that is caught in the middle of a feud they have nothing to do with aka having to choose which side to invite and risking to draw the wrath of the other upon themselves. It could have been interesting to see what would have happened if they had invited Maleficent instead of the Good Fairies in fear of what she could do if they didn’t only to have the Good Fairies paying them back for the disrespect but that would have changed the plot too much so it is probably best to explore as an AU.

- The consequences of King Stefan’s decision to burn all spinning wheels were never ever shown and that was such a great waste. The fact that the target audience is kids makes it a little bit more understandable, of course, but this could have made for a great political subplot. The decision was impulsive and was made more from the heart of the father rather than the head of the king in his desperation to protect the child he and his wife have wanted for so long. However, that will surely have economical and even political impact on the kingdom. Instead of celebrating the birth of the royal heir, they had to pay the price for protecting her. It is the fourteenth century so without spinning wheels in the whole kingdom, they could no longer turn wool into threads. Any industry including fabric would have suffered from that choice and that would have led to poverty. Now that would have been a perfect way to explore the alliance between Aurora and Phillip’s kingdoms. Maybe they signed a contract for Phillip’s kingdom to trade finished products for the resources that they need to make them coming from Aurora’s kingdom. It would have been a good way to include the aspect of royalty, politics and economics more since they already introduced it through the arranged marriage. And it would be interesting to see Aurora’s reaction once she was back at the palace to how much her subjects and the whole kingdom (even Phillip’s kingdom) had sacrificed for her well-being. Any decisions she could have made on the matter as the future ruler could have shown her introduction into her role of princess and future queen as well as her compassion and good heart.

- The king and queen’s pain over their lost daughter was never explored. They waited for years for the happiness to have a baby and when their only dream finally comes true, they are forced to give up the baby if they want to keep her alive. They can not see her for the first sixteen years of her life and by the time she comes back to the palace she is all grown up. She is not their baby daughter but a beautiful stranger that they don’t know anything about. Whatever happiness and relief there was over her being well and alive was surely overshadowed by the fact that Maleficent still succeeded in tearing their family apart. Their daughter is not dead but they lost her and she never had them. It is a horrible tragedy that the movie never even bothered to address for a second past that scene of them sending Aurora away with the Three Good Fairies. Considering all the negative repercussions the king’s decision to burn all spinning wheels must have had on the kingdom, it was a shame that they never truly showed the emotional consequences of the choice to give Aurora to the fairies to raise for the royal family. It could have added much emotional depth to the story and characters.

- In relation to that, there was a big missed opportunity with Philip also. Since his mother wasn’t there neither at the Christening, nor at the celebration of Aurora’s sixteenth birthday, a sound assumption would be that she was dead. The loss of her that Phillip and his father were going through and the loss Aurora’s parents were experiencing after they gave her away could have become a great bonding point for the two families. It has been shown that Phillip’s dad is a great friend of King Stefan so it would be safe to assume that the two met quite a lot. Phillip could have easily been brought along on those visits and since they lost their own daughter, Aurora’s parents would have probably become very fond of the boy and loved him as their own. He was to be their son-in-law one day and through him they could give their daughter all their love, by caring for him and helping raise him in any way they could. And Phillip could have come to think of them as family as well and respect them like his own parents which would have made it harder for him to stand up to the arranged marriage because he also loved them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings after all the love they’d given him. And later on, once Aurora was back home, he could have helped her get to know her parents. It would have been bittersweet that he knew them better than she did but it would have shown both his support of Aurora and the trust that binds the two families in one as well as helped both Aurora and her parents get over the pain and trauma they’ve experienced.

- This is more of a detail that would have just made things a little cooler if it’d been included but what if the gift of soul Fauna gave Aurora was the reason she was seeing Phillip in her dreams? It connected her to the living beings like the forest animals and it could have very well been the one thing helping her connect with the one she is destined to be with. It could have been a cool side thing. And maybe it also affected Phillip in some way and that was why he could communicate so effortlessly with his horse. Or they could have made it so that Phillip had also been blessed by fairies as a child and that was why he was communicating the same way with his horse that Aurora was with the forest animals and it helped them establish their dream bond.

- And one last possibility that I thought of would have been if Aurora had been raised according to fairy understanding and perception of the world. The Three Good Fairies themselves said that they knew nothing about raising a human child and Aurora neither knew they were fairies, nor had contact with any other humans in order to figure out that something wasn’t quite right with the way they were raising her and the things they were teaching her. So she grew up experienced in fairy traditions and the fairy way of looking on the world. Once she goes to the palace, she finally learns that what she’s been taught is not the human way of doing things so on top of having to patch up her family and learn the royal ways, she also has to learn the human ways. And since she’s been raised with fairy outlook on the world, she cannot believe her parents’ decision to not invite Maleficent to her Christening. It is not that she blames them but to her it seems incredibly stupid and disrespectful and she understands why Maleficent went for retribution. Since Aurora is so well versed in the fairy ways, she becomes something of an ambassador for the kingdom in its dealings with fairies (and possibly other magical creatures) to avoid repetition of history and offend another powerful being. The kingdom becomes prosperous thanks to its extraordinary princess who has managed to earn the benevolence and blessings of various fairies. There are those who do not like her since they think a human should have never been allowed the privilege to know their traditions so well but, in general, she is in the favor of most powerful beings that protect her kingdom and make it a force to be reckoned with.

Those are the things that I would have loved to have seen included or even hinted at in some way in the movie since there is a lot to cover in all the cracks of the story. Any of these would have made for great additions to the original plot imo and would have given more depth and life to the story.

[emptynarration]

Y’know what?

I’ma make a list of all Iplier and Septic egos (that I would attempt writing) and put down some general headcanon points.

Be aware some might be different from “fanon” and some might be similar to “fanon”. These are just my general thoughts.

Also cus it’s a lot of egos, it’s under a read-more.

Dark

- Has a notable aura. Usually keeps it pulled to only himself, even though that’s tiring. - Generally very exhausted. - He works on keeping all the crimes the egos commit undercover and unnoticed, keeping the manor up and running without decaying, handling their money resources and public appearances, such things. - Cares about all the egos like family, but would never admit it. - Will manipulate you to reach his goal. Don’t trust him.

Wilford

- Not human. He’s a being made entirely out of energy. Is “human” for fun. - Due to that he doesn’t understand a lot of human things. Such as an actual need for food/water, bathroom needs, need to sleep, death. - Can alter reality in his vicinity however he pleases pretty much. - Can teleport himself to places he’s been to before. - Can teleport objects to himself and way, as long as he knows where they are and where they go.

Host

- Doesn’t smile a lot. Never seems to swear. - Is the (second) tallest ego. Cryptid vibes. - Narrates constantly, but doesn’t need to to be able to “see”. - Can be a softie when he wants to be. - Tortures people for fun. Murders for fun. Has no remorse. - Can be a petty asshole quite a lot.

(I tend to also write him as a nice, gentle baby, because self-projecting)

Dr Iplier

- Chubby and somft. - Extremely done with everyone’s bs. - Swears to himself more than you’d think. - Has slight healing powers (but can also cause pain if he wants to). - Works in a hospital in the city.

Google

- Doesn’t understand emotions at all. - Has a weird way of speaking sometimes. - What is slang? - Doesn’t understand humans well. He sees the bad the most so he hates them a lot. No reason to like humans. - Makes beeping sounds.

Oliver (Google Yellow)

- Very cheerful, bright, happy. - Loves children and teens, struggles with adults. - Very kind and caring to everyone. - Will murder with a smile on his face.

Reed (Google Red)

- he’s a mystery to myself I’m sorry

Greg (Google Green)

- Fascinated by humans, how they work like and such. - Has an interest in medicine. - Helps Iplier with taking care of the egos’ injuries and illnesses. - Very calm individual, very gentle.

Yandere

- Nonbinary. Uses They/Them or She/Her. - Will stab you if you ask about their sex. - Obsessed with their senpai, but never tries to interact with them. - Dresses both feminine and masculine. - Pretty cheerful and bright usually. - Easily makes friends.

King

- Loves nature and animals more than anything. - Understands animals and can communicate with them to some degree. - Is pretty muscular and athletic actually. - Very very kind and gentle. - Naive and oblivious.

Jims Twins

- Refer to everyone as Jim. - They are both Jim. No CJ or RJ (that just makes no sense). - They love to confuse people. - Are almost always recording what’s happening. - Run a news show, obviously. - Very very curious people. Ask a lot of questions.

Eric

- Very very shy and anxious. - Has no clue how to talk with people. - Stutters when nervous. - Handkerchief is a comfort item. - Loves animals a lot. - Very soft and very afraid.

Bim

- Very dramatic. - Loves glitter. Always glittering. - Cannibal, but like, casual. - Pretty nice fellow usually. - A huge flirt. Charismatic. - Has powers which he can use to make people pay attention to him, fall in love with him, and just generally want him.

Author

- Likes to be alone and isolated. - No idea how to handle people. - Needs chewing stim necklace. - Gets overwhelmed by a lot of noise and crowds. - Loud noises are Bad™ - Wilford’s best friend. Gets up to a lot of mischief with him. - Uses his writing for every little thing possible.

Bing

- Loves slang and uses it a lot. No matter from which decade. - Loves skateboarding and is pretty good with it. - Has a TikTok 100%. - Very chill. You will not get him angry.

Yancy

- Loves singing and making his own musical numbers. - Can choreograph simple things by himself. - Can dance pretty well. Especially tap-dance. - Loves reading old classics. - He will never let go of his accent.

Captn Magnum

- Gentle giant. - Always out on the sea. - The tallest ego around. - Father figure for absolutely everyone. - Eats lemons like oranges.

Illinois

- Cocky. - Loves to flirt. - Loves himself first and foremost. - Cares about people. - Doesn’t want to get attached. - Loves history, doesn’t care about money.

Mark Bop

- Loves singing, but is bad at it. - Has his own made-up language. (The Jims understand him). - Loves music. Has mix-tables. - Muscular man. Rips his shirts when he flexes. - Enjoys roller-skating. - Bad at talking. Very bad.

Arti

- Very nervous. Very shy. - Paranoid. - Loves art in every form. - Paints a lot. Loves painting. Good at painting. - Likes to be left alone. - Likes silent company. - Very nice actually.

Leon (Resident Enis)

- Doesn’t trust easily. - Dirty. Stinky. - A little kleptomaniac. - Nice and relaxed around friends. - Very protective.

Mike (FNAF guard)

- Paranoid. - Afraid of everyone. - Always has a knife on him. - Very protective once he trusts someone. - Insomniac.

Bill

- Werewolf. - Is deathly afraid of technology. - Doesn’t understand technology. - Loves to farm. - Good cook. - Very very nice and gentle.

Kink

- Very open-minded. - Connects emotionally with others very easily. - Extremely accepting of everyone and everything. - Loves to learn about new things. - Very kind and nice. - Has a death glare that’ll make you shudder.

Hiro (Cooliplier)

- The cool kid. - Not the smartest. - Doesn’t know a whole lot. - Likes to play tough and strong. - A huge softie. Loves cuddles.

Dr. Warren Plier

- Will psychoanalyze you the moment you meet. - Very quiet individual. - A great listener, not so good at talking. - Tends to be blunt. - Interested in whatever is being talked about.

Norman (Paranormal Investigator)

- Has a weird obsession with blood. - Collects haunted dolls. - A bit arrogant. - Very confident and sure of himself. - Not the kindest, but not rude intentionally. - Loves all paranormal. - No respect for anyone or anything.

Marcus (E-boy)

- Loves the aesthetic. - Eats the peel of fruits no matter what. - Screwed taste buds. - Pescatarian (vegetarian + fish). - Also has a TikTok. - Creative. - Talks a lot.

Annus

- A wild card. - One moment he’s serious and all about life and death. - The next he fucks around and does something with pee. - Has an accurate sense of when catastrophic events happen. - Is terrified of dying, but not death itself. - Is afraid of being forgotten.

Anti

- Is a glitch, like a hologram. - If water touches him, he gets hurt. Can glitch out completely. - He’s weightless. Can’t be physically hurt unless he wants to be. - Has his own digital space where he “lives”. - Loves fucking with people. - Gets off of gutting people. - Collects knives. - Loves making music with a launchpad.

Schneeple

- Barely has an accent anymore. - Typical bilingual problems. - Weird mix of words he uses due to how he learned English. - A good surgeon. - Works in the same hospital as Iplier.

Chase

- Absolute asshole. - Drunk 90% of the time (Sad when tipsy, angry when drunk). - Violent. Will quickly get physical with people. - There’s legal reasons he’s not allowed to see his kids.

Robbie

- Undead zombie. - Mental age of a child. Very slow. - Looks rotting but doesn’t smell like rotting. - Can’t see well. Can’t read. - Very kind. Very curious. - Bad at talking.

Jackie

- A true hero. - Kind, gentle, caring. - Has powers of flight, strength, and a bit of speed. - A big amount of stamina. - Muscular and athletic. - Is outside 90% of the time. - Hates being stuck inside.

JJ

- Mute. Uses sign language. - Confused by modern things. - Uses old words and ways of speaking. - Technology is fascinating. - Very kind and gentle. - Immaculate fashion.

Marvin

- Introvert. - Hates being around people. Loathes crowds. - Loves exploring magic and potions. - May use people to test out spells and potions. - Very arrogant and self-obsessed.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Don't know if this is your thing buuttt, Sidon healing Links wounds after he gets fucked up by that Lynel?

Thanks for the request! I’m sorry this took so long, but better that I do it right, than fast ig. Sorry thats just a lame excuse, I just had a bunch of work Anyway, here’s my first Sidlink thingy, I’m actually really proud of how it turned out! (Am I allowed to toot my own horn? :P) Enjoy!

The Storm

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Sidon x Link, 3358 words

The rain poured against his skin. Lightning struck in the distance, closely followed by a roar of thunder. For now, the sky was dull and overcast, the only colors being the murky grey shine of the storm. It would not last. Beneath the rushing clouds, the glimmer of the moon could be seen. It was full, and cast its light down on the earth below. Only it wasn’t white or silver, instead, it shone a blood red. 

He watched from above, close to the mountain’s peak. On the ledge, he could get a good look on the field below. The grass was green, and dancing in the wind. Droplets pattered against large cerulean rocks that surrounded the area. Pine trees shivered with their evergreen tusks. Pink and purple bushes scattered the ground, strangely looking like coral. Ironically appropriate, considering this was the land of the Zora. The clouds were now rushing against the sky at a violent speed, specks of ash started to litter the air. Malice sparked around him, glowing like lanterns, as if celebrating the event that was to come. Soon, the colors of the sky shifted from pitch to fire, the air now shrouded in scarlet shades. Link stood on Ploymus Mountain, waiting for the world to come to life.

In the center of the field below, malice began to swirl. Tendrils, thick and smokey, trampled across the grass, decaying the flowers in its wake. The mass collected into a large conglomerate of black, red, and magenta. It rose and expanded with hypnotic swirls. Its shape pulsed as it took to a large, animal-like form. Smoke became flesh, and flesh became monster, as the beast was formed before his very eyes. Its hooves pounded against the ground, kicking up dirt, stomps causing the surrounding trees to shudder. It lifted its head to the scarlet sky and roared, its echo melding with the boom of thunder. The smoke and fog that had surrounded it now subsided. The malice that formed its body cleared. From the ashes of the blood moon emerged the beast, the Lynel.

The storm was now at its crescendo, the wind screamed in his ears. The rain soaked his clothes, the Champion’s Tunic hugging his skin. His hood was begging to billow in the wind, the edges of its black cloth blending with the night. But a single sword kept the hood fitted against his back. The sword that seals the darkness. 

The moon now waned back to its pale complexion, the sky darkened back to pitch. Winds lowered their screams, fading back to baleful whispers. The rain and thunder continued, but compared to the crimson show that had just happened, the forces of nature were welcome. 

Link observed the creature that had been born out of the dark. Its body was the color of rust, its silver weapons gleamed in the rain. A sword, a bow, a shield, along with its horns and teeth, and hooves that wouldn’t hesitate to crush his skull. Overall, an ordinary Lynel, nothing new here. Wind rushed through the beast’s crimson mane, tufts or red hair covered its arms and legs as well. Soon, it turned its gaze towards the towering cliffs near the summit. Its sharp teeth grinded, an itch in the back of its throat asked for blood. At the top was a figure, covered with a black hood, tanned trousers, and bright blue tunic. The Lynel’s eerie emerald eyes glared up at the boy, daring him to remove his hood and stare back. 

Perhaps it would be the last thing they ever saw.

Now the world was silent. The only sound Link could hear was that of his own, rhythmic heartbeat.

He sprinted towards the beast. 

Still not looking it in the eye, Link bolted down the mountain, leaping from rock to rock. His sword was still sheathed on his back, for he knew from experience that closing the distance between them was life or death. If the beast went for its bow, its shock arrows would be fatal in this rain. The Lynel gave a familiar roar. Burly arms reached for the arsenal on its back.

Strike now!

There were several advantages to being armed with only a single sword. It kept him light on his feet, the slim sheathe fastened securely so it wouldn’t fall off should he tumble, roll, or dodge out of danger. Furthermore, his speed was not burdened by too much weight on his back, for strength is only as good as the swiftness you have to strike a blow. And of course, a single blade meant you only had to focus on one thing. Sinking the sword into skin.

His feet landed on the soft grass, he was now only a few paces away from the Lynel. With one fluid motion, Link reached back and unsheathed his sword. It gleamed with a blinding light, distracting the beast for a moment. There was still some distance between the two. With the first swing, he flung a beam of light at the Lynel’s face. It traveled across the sky, glimmering like a star, with the speed of an arrow. It successfully hit its target, slashing the beast’s face. Before it even had time to process the pain or react, Link ran up to fight head on. Using his momentum, he thrust the sword’s edge into one of the beast’s legs, putting all his weight and strength behind it. The Lynel bellowed in pain. It finally reached for its weapons; a sword, with a blade so big you could dance on it, and a shield, thick enough that you could forge a whole set of armour from its metal. 

The beast raised its arms into the air, a motion intent on slamming Link from both sides. It’s weapons cut through the air at impossible speeds. But just before the blade made contact with his body, time slowed. Link steadied his legs, then performed a backflip, dodging gracefully out of the Lynel’s clutches. In midair, the world was still moving at a snail’s pace, he could see the beast in the motion of attacking an assailant who was no longer in front of it. When his feet connected back with the earth, he rushed forward, delivering a flurry of attacks with the opening the Lynel had created for itself. With each blow, the sword gleamed a sapphire glow. After a series of deadly strikes, the rain poured back to its regular pace. 

The Lynel regained its composure due to the new wounds created on its abdomen. Now enraged, it quickened its strikes, slashing violently in any direction in order to get a hit on Link. He dodged, jumped and rolled. It was a dance in the rain, his footwork being the only thing keeping him alive. With every swing the Lynel made, Link pivoted, backflipped, and dodged, attacking the openings. The beast’s rust and crimson colored fur matched well with the bloody wounds it was now receiving. 

Ruby and sapphire clashed on the field. A blue blade glowed against the black of night. He was doing well, despite the fact he was playing with death. Link hadn’t been hit yet, and it would hopefully stay that way, since one blow could cause his demise. But this had to be done. 

Every blood moon, the path to the infamous Shatterback Point would be blocked by the presence of this beast. The Zora had all but given up on reclaiming their favourite diving point, for every effort to kill the beast would be erased with its revival by Ganon. It wasn’t worth it, risking the lives of their soldiers with an unstoppable threat like that. Furthermore, the Lynel was known to stride across the mountain, so any traveler or unlucky explorer searching for supplies or ingredients would instead be met with a bloody surprise. The best they could do was stay away, the only thing keeping the beast from the rest of the Domain was the towering waterfall by Lulu Lake. What kind of hero would he be if he couldn’t take care of this problem? What kind of hero would let the Zora sit in fear of the Lynel forever?

If I can’t beat a Lynel with ease, what hope does anyone have that I can defeat the Calamity?

And so here he was, banging repeatedly on death’s door, to kill a beast again and again. The rain poured against Link’s hood, the cloth now free to billow in the wind. They continued their fight, the stakes didn’t lessen each time they clashed. Link’s stamina was starting to give out, but it was almost finished. The Lynel’s movements were starting to slow, its wounds now gaping, rain washing blood onto the grass. Suddenly, the beast’s eyes flickered. It stopped attacking Link, sword and shield drooping at its side. Link watched with a careful eye, keeping his own sword at the ready. 

What was this? 

The beast placed its weapons on its back, then set its arms on the ground, as if to bow. Link didn’t understand at first, that is until he saw the Lynel’s baring teeth and bent hind legs.

Oh sh—

The Lynel lurched forth, thundering across the plain, ready to charge into him. At the last second, Link leaped out of the way, the world started to slow once more.

That was close. Some surprise attack, I’m almost impressed. But they missed…

Link’s boots landed on the grass once more. Looking back in the direction of the beast, he expected to see its lumbering figure. He expected to see the Lynel, now exhausted from its wounds, lying collapsed in the dirt. At the very least, he expected to just see the Lynel. Instead he saw something much worse. 

The beast, still dripping blood across the field, had continued charging forward. In its sights, was a tall blur of red and white. A silver and turquoise rapier shimmered in the wind. The blur had its own teeth bared, their smile sparkled like a star.

Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohno

Sidon?!

From Sidon’s stance, it looked like he meant to meet the Lynel head on. But there was no way he could handle such a direct blow so close to the mountain’s edge. Link frantically ran after the beast, but it was too far ahead, too far to reach with his sword. Even a beam of light couldn’t get there fast enough. While he tried to stay silent in order to convey his strength and composure, it was hard to keep his oath when he was about to watch one of his closest friends die.

“SIDON!”

Prince Sidon turned his attention towards the sudden shout. There was the Hylian Champion, sprinting towards him, fumbling with something on his belt. 

“DON’T RUN! KEEP STILL ‘TILL I SAY SO!”

Keep still? Shouldn’t I at least attempt to fight the Lynel? Sidon thought. Looking back ahead, the beast was still barrelling towards him, quick as lightning. No. This isn’t either of our first brushes with danger. I trust Link, with every scale of my being! Sidon gave a nod in Link’s direction, along with a reassuring smile, despite the adrenaline and slight dread he was feeling. 

Link was running as fast as his legs would carry him. He had unfurled his hood, allowing the rain to soak the rest of his body. He was desperately trying to unclip the item from his belt. He hadn’t really tried it out yet, he had just gotten the upgrade a week ago, but no time like the present! The Lynel was almost at its target, Sidon kept his eyes locked on Link, with his thoughtful, golden eyes. He also wore his unwavering smile. His beaming teeth put the moon to shame— GAH! NOT THE TIME LINK!

Finally, he got it off his waist, the Sheikah Slate. Hurriedly swiping through his runes, Link picked up the pace, there was no way he would make it in time. 

Would this even work? If Sidon moves too soon, it might not kill it, then we’re both dead. Is the upgrade strong even enough for a monster like that? It’s a gamble at best. How much time would this— here it is! 

Selecting the rune, Link held the Sheikah Slate in front of him. The Lynel was about two seconds away from Sidon’s face. 

Purah don’t fail me now!

Link pressed his thumb against the screen, allowing a stream of yellow light to fly out, towards Sidon and the Lynel. 

From Sidon’s point of view, Link was running towards him with a strange rock in his hand. It looked familiar…but he could reminisce later. For now, the Lynel was almost on him, the world seemed to slow, he could feel the beast’s hot breath against his face. He was close enough to reach out and touch its yellow fur.

Wait…yellow?

“SIDON! MOVE NOW!”

The monster was stopped dead in its tracks. Wait, was it dead? It’s claws were still outstretched, sharp white teeth bared, ready to tear him open. What did this mean? He couldn’t hear much, there was a strange sound amidst the downpour of rain, like a frog croaking, or bird with a high pitched song. It sang, beep, beep, Beep, Beep, Beep-BEep-BEEp-BEEP, BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP— 

“SIDON!”

Suddenly, he was shoved from the side. His rapier fell out of his grasp, Link wrapped his arms around Prince Sidon as he tumbled into the dirt. 

The noise stopped, the Lynel’s crimson mane returned, the yellow hue gone. It continued its charge forward, like nothing had ever happened. To everyone’s surprise, the beast’s momentum continued off the side of the mountain, for no Zora was there to stop its fall. The Lynel fell down towards Lulu Lake below. It clawed at nothing, hooves scraping at wind. It gave out one more deafening roar, echoing through the air. The final sound was that of a soft thud from far below. 

‘Till next time then. Link thought

Link had landed next to Sidon. They were both out of breath, adrenaline still coarsing through their veins. Sidon got on his feet, still looking at the cliff the beast had just dove off of. Turning back to Link, Sidon sputtering.

“Link why, how in Hylia did you— t-that was amazing! But what are you even doing here?”

The Hylian Champion sat on the grass, the rain soaking under his tunic. He held out his hands, putting his thumb around his fingers to sign.

Stasis. Sheikah Technology. Temporarily stops things.

Sidon nodded, “Right, but why in the world are you here?”

Lynel causes a lot of trouble.

“But we haven’t had any reports about that monster in weeks! How could—” 

He stopped mid-sentence. “Tonight was the blood moon, you…you’ve been slaying it every blood moon, haven’t you? Oh Link, why would you burden yourself with such a thing…”

He extended his arm down, helping Link up. The rain was starting to dwindle. The winds blew through Link’s hood, his blue and red tunic contrasting with the ground.

Red? Red…RED…BLOOD!

“AHH!! Link! Holy Hylia, when you knocked me out of the way, the Lynel’s claws must’ve—”

I’m just gonna. Rest. For a second… We can catch up later…

“LINK!”

… . .

The thing about waterbeds is that when you wake up abruptly from nightmares or dreams, you start bouncing around like an idiot, lessening any tension or fear you might have. This was something Link discovered in real time, as he awoke in Zora’s Domain.

It was around noon, the sun was high, and the clouds had long departed. Cerulean architecture surrounded him, with pearl, lapis, and luminous accents. Out the arched windows, he could see there was no rain, but the sound of rushing water continued. The streams that filled the aqueducts gurgled and giggled, a cool aura surrounded the whole palace. Link was in some sort of bedroom, a table on his left had some oils and bandages sitting on its surface. Still bouncing up and down, he began lifting up his shirt, notably blue, the same shade as his tunic. He looked to where he had been feeling some aching, on his left side were three large, deep scars. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll fade.”

Looking up, Link saw Sidon standing at the door. They both smiled. Link moved his other arm from under the covers. 

It’s fine. I’ll add them to my collection.

Sidon chuckled. He walked over, then sat at the foot of the bed, careful not to let Link bounce towards the ceiling. They just stared at each other for a while. Link allowed himself to gaze at Sidon’s big, golden eyes. They glimmered like the sun. Many might not have noticed it, but Link saw Sidon’s expression falter, just a bit.

“Link, how can anyone ever thank you?”

Link pushed the rest of the covers off him, bringing his knees to his chest.

It’s my duty. To protect Hyrule. And save the people I care about.

“But Link, you keep…” Sidon looked down for a moment, before returning his gaze, “I’ve seen your scars. You have so many, it’s not safe for you to keep working yourself like this. You can’t keep thrusting yourself into battle.”

Link tilted his head. I’m the only one who’s strong enough to. I kept killing the Lynel because I wanted to take care of… Link stopped for a moment. All the Zora people. Link’s face had a slight tint. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

Sidon gave a deep sigh. Then, he looked back at Link, moving himself closer.

“Link, you truly are incredible, and amazing, and brave, and kind, and true, and wonderful…”

If he wasn’t blushing already, he was now. Link didn’t have his hood to hide his rosy cheeks in. Maybe if he just “casually” hugged Sidon he could hide there…

Sidon continued to carefully move closer. 

“…and strong, and diligent, and clever, and dependable, and skilled and–”

Thank you very much Sidon! That’s very kind! You too! Same with you!

His face was now on fire. Was it possible to show his flustered speech through Hylian sign language alone? Anymore of this and his face would be the same color as Sidon’s scales.

“Yes well, the point is Link, I’ve always…admired you for the marvelous person that you are. And I know you’ve already been burdened with plenty of things, from Ruta, to the Lynels, to the Calamity, but might I just ask one more thing of you?”

Sidon leaned down, softly placing his hands on Link’s shoulders.

“Could you take care of yourself, and stay safe? For me?”

Link stared up into his glimmering, gold eyes. They were calm and sincere, nothing like the storm he had just fought through.

“I know you’re strong, but please, don’t go running off to your next adventure just yet. Stay at the Domain and regain your strength. Allow me to take care of you, as a simple thanks. We can’t…I can’t have you dying.”

Without another thought, Link flung his whole body onto Sidon, locking him into a warm embrace. Sidon reached down and returned the hug. Link’s sapphire shirt clashed against Sidon’s ruby scales.

“Link, I was never as good of a healer as my sister, but I promise. I promise to always take care of you, all your wounds, pains, and sorrows. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live without you. Please, stay alive for me? I…I simply…I…”

Link pulled back, his blue eyes reflected the glow of the room. 

I’ll stay with you.

Then, Link put one hand on Sidon’s face, caressing it. Then, he signed.

And 

I love you too.

Sidon, in a bit of shock, let his mouth hang agape. His sharp teeth gleamed with the sparkles of the room. Then, he allowed himself to smile, and leaned his cheeks further into Link’s hand. The two of them stared at each other, adoration and warmth colored both of their faces. The air was crisp and cool, and the sky was still young. It was safe, and for a moment they could forget about the monsters of the outside world.

This was the calm…after the storm.

[holdin-out-for-a-hero]

Rookie Chapter 6/?

Words: 2230

Warnings: unless the game bothered you there are none

A/N: Sorry it took me two months! I do intend to finish the series but it may take some time

"I take it you have the key card" Ada said. She walked and talked like she owned the place and it was really starting to get on your nerves. You pulled the plastic card from your pocket. “Good. Let's get out of here."

You, Leon, and Ada approached the garage gate, and you scanned the card. The gate beeped as it slowly peeled up from the ground. Once it had finished, the three of you headed onto the street. It had been a week, you realized, since you had last been outside the station. The once life-filled city was now desolate and ruined. Cars littered the streets, some on fire, some upside down, and some still parked perfectly in their places. There was a corpse around every corner, searching for its next meal. It was hard for you to tell the difference between your beloved home and a biblical hell. One thing you were grateful for, though, was the storm. It washed away a great deal of the gore and for the first time in a week, you could escape the smell of decay. You walked forward, looking up at the empty buildings around you, when a hand grabbed your arm and yanked you back. It was then that you saw the giant sinkhole you almost walked into. You turned around and looked at Ada. Through her sunglasses you could feel her glare. She let go of your arm and wiped her gloved hand on her trench coat.

"I guess the road's out." You said quietly. Leon let out a small laugh, mostly to ease the tension between you and Ada.

"I should've let you both be victims of natural selection" Ada said, leaving you and Leon in a shocked silence. "Looks like going through that gun shop is the only way."

The building to your left read 'Kendo's Gun Shop.' You immediately recognized it, as it was the shop the station got its weapons from. The owner, Kendo, seemed like a nice guy the few times you met him, but you didn't know him very well.

Ada strolled over to the shop's double doors. She knelt down and picked the lock within seconds. It struck you as a little odd that she could pick a lock so easily, but you pushed those thoughts away. She was FBI after all, you never know what kind of skills they need. Still, something was off about her. You've never met an FBI agent before, but you always assumed they would be nicer.

She opened the double doors, revealing the ransacked store. Shelves were knocked down and ammo scattered the floor. Along with it, bloody boot prints. The three of you walked in, careful not to make a sound. Ada searched for another exit, while you and Leon separately explored the small store.

Leon was grabbing ammo from the shelves when he heard a sound behind him. Leon knew exactly what it was, it was a gun cock.

"Don't move" a voice said.

Leon slowly raised his hands, looking at the man from his peripheral vision. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I said DON'T MOVE"

You noticed the exchange from across the store, and Leon made eye contact with you. It was hard to see the man behind him, for it was a dark store, but then he stepped closer. It was Kendo, the shop owner.

"Just passing through. I'm gonna need you to lower your weapon," Leon said calmly. He sounded like such a rookie, mindlessly repeating the phrases he heard in the academy. Still, he would've been a great cop. Kendo hadn't noticed you or Ada yet, and you wanted to keep it that way. You approached the two quietly, taking your gun out of its holster in the process. Ada must have noticed as well, she nodded to you and snuck forward from the other side of the store.

"Like hell you are." The man said. "You're gonna turn around and leave the same way you came in."

Leon wasn't paying attention, though. Behind the man, Leon spotted a little girl standing in a doorway near the back of the room. She was breathing heavily and could barely hold herself up. Leon knew what was wrong with her. It was the same thing wrong with everyone at the gas station, in the streets, and in the police station. She was only a child, he thought, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Your daughter needs help, sir," Leon said in a hushed tone. The gun was still pointed at him, and the man pushed it even closer.

"Don't tell me what to do with my daughter."

"Drop it" Ada said as she left the shadows, gun pointed at the man. Then, You noticed the child. She looked maybe 11 and was the youngest victim of the virus you had seen. Ada saw her too, and moved her gun from the man to the girl. Your eyes widened as you ran out of the shadows to stop her. Kendo jumped in front of his daughter.

"No, Wait!" He yelled, pointing his gun at Ada.

"Step aside, we need to terminate her before he turns." She said coldly. You felt your heart stop at those words. Did she have any empathy at all? The room grew even more tense. You made eye contact with Leon, who was just as shocked as you.

"Terminate?" The man began "That's my daughter!" He yelled at Ada. From behind him, his daughter stumbled closer. She must have been too far gone to understand the situation at hand. Ada still had her gun trained on the man.

"Ada" you pleaded.

"Just let them be," Leon said as he dropped his gun. They both kept aim at each other. You prayed that it wouldn't escalate any further. His child was almost behind him now.

"Emma, sweetheart, I told you to stay put." He said calmly, but he kept his stance. Watching the two of them made seconds feel like hours.

"Da..ddy?" The girl mumbled, her eyes a milky white. The man finally dropped his gun and ran to his daughter.

"Daddy's here," he reassured her. Then he took the child, who could turn any second, into his arms. The three of you watched in silence as the man's paternal love beat any instinct of survival. He held her close, staining his daughters shirt in tears. "Those..., those things outside. Look at what they've done to us."

He looked up and when he notice you and Leon's uniforms, resentment filled the hole in his heart. "You're cops. You're supposed to know something! How did this happen? Huh?"

His question was met with silence. Neither you nor Leon knew what happened, you couldn't have prevented it either. But watching the man hold onto the hollow shell of his daughter made you feel guilty. You were shocked in place as his angry, mourning eyes searched yours for answers. He looked to Leon, who only looked down in response. The man's watery eyes met yours again, this time they silently pleaded for you to do something, anything to end this nightmare. Then, he recognized you. You saw it in his eyes and his rage built up again.

"You're officer Y/N, right?" He began. "What happened to 'protect and serve,' Huh? You're supposed to protect the city! You were supposed to protect my family!" He caught his breath and looked at Leon.

"What's DiCaprio doing here?" Kendo scoffed.

"He's a new officer," you replied hesitantly, "He just got to the city."

"A rookie cop, huh. Well, pretty boy, you should've stayed home because I don't think anyone's leaving this city alive," he paused, "I know I won't."

The two of you stayed silent. Kendo's daughter, still wrapped in his arms, made a pained moan. A tear fell to the ground as he looked down to her.

"She was our little angel," he said, running a hand through her hair.

"Mommy?" The child asked.

"Mommy's sleeping honey" his voice wavered. "And I'm gonna put you to bed too"

Your stomach dropped. Your heartbeat quickened. You knew it was the only option but couldn't bare to think of it. You couldn't imagine what it would be like for him. He lost his wife, and now his child? Did the world have any justice? In that moment, there was no doubt in your mind that this was in fact hell, where good men suffer and children die.

The man lifted his daughter up and carried her into the back room, looking back at you one final time before shutting and locking the door. Your breathing quickened. All week you had seen people die, but not any children. You'd seen many people lose loved ones. Hell, you'd lost some yourself. But you hadn't seen a father lose his daughter. Your veins felt like they were on fire in anticipation for a gunshot. Who knew that seconds could creep by so slowly. You took a couple steps back.

And then you heard it.

It reverberated through the walls and through your ribs and chest. Leon jumped at the sound; your vision went spotty. What you weren't anticipating, though, was the second gunshot.

No one was. It shook the walls again, and left a thick silence after. You sat down because you knew you could no longer stand. Focusing on your breath was the only thing keeping you composed. Or so you thought. A tear fell down your cheek; You hadn't even realized you were crying, but it didn't surprise you. At this point you knew your emotions were unpredictable: One minute you felt emotionally raw and the next minute you felt nothing at all. Right now you were somewhere in between. Trauma does weird things to people, and you had already accepted that you'd need years of therapy if you made it through this. After a few moments, your vision went back to normal and your heart wasn't beating out of your chest.

You weren't the only one with unpredictable emotions. Leon too had trouble controlling his. In the long, tense silence that filled the room after the gunshots, Leon's initial sorrow turned into rage. His quivering lip ceased and instead his jaw clenched. He was angry at the world, angry at the virus, but mostly angry at Ada. She knew something, and she chose to keep it from a man with a dying daughter. She listened to him beg for answers but kept her mouth shut.

Leon didn't care if she was FBI; she was still a human too, and she needed to act like one.

"You know, its one thing to keep the truth from me, but why him?" He asked Ada, a little louder than he should've. She didn't answer. Instead, she just stared at the door to the room the man and his daughter lay.

"Whatever happened here, we've got to stop it. This can't happen anywhere else," You spoke to Ada, "Families shouldn't suffer like this."

"We've got to find out who caused this and hold them accountable." He replied. "And Ada, you're either going to help us or not." She only stared at him. He held her gaze as he pointed towards the door. "Helping people like them is why I joined the force!"

Ada paced forward and finally spoke.

"My mission is to take out umbrella's entire operation. We may not take it out." She said.

"I'm in." You said, looking back up at them. Leon looked down at you, then up at Ada.

"Me too." Leon said.

"Then we should get going." Ada said.

You slowly got up, holding onto a shelf for support. Leon looked over at you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, which made Ada notice as well.

"Yeah, just a little shaken up" You said. Although you still felt a little lightheaded, you didn't want to slow them down. It wasn’t the time for that. Now, you had a new purpose, a final mission as a police officer: stop the virus from spreading and punish the ones who created it. That, or die trying.

You and Leon followed Ada through the back of the shop and out onto the street.

"Ever heard of the umbrella corporation?" Ada asked as she walked. In front of her was the entrance of the sinkhole with ramps and platforms leading underground.

"Y/N told me about them,” Leon replied.

"So you know they're a pharmaceutical company by day and a biological weapons creator by night?”

“I’m guessing they caused this?" He asked, keeping pace with Ada. They walked down the wooden steps and platforms that led further into the darkness.

“Really?” She replied sarcastically.

"Im pretty sure we were in part of their underground lab earlier,” you added.

"That lab is where they made this virus,” Ada said, "supposedly they have another one- one that turns people into indestructible monsters."

Leon looked back at you. "That explains the horrible things we've seen."

"Yeah, like that guy-or-thing-or-whatever underground. He looked he had some of that monster virus,” you shuddered, “He almost killed us both.” Ada turned around abruptly.

"You saw what?" She asked.

"A scientist I think. He looked like he was mutating,” You replied.

"That's not good." She said, and for the first time, she sounded worried. "That's why I'm looking for Annette Birkin, so we can stop this thing. She's the one who unleashed the virus, we've got to take her down." Ada stopped at a large circular opening in the side of the chasm. The smell was immediately recognizable: it was the sewer.

"She's down here?" You asked, not at all hiding the disgust in your tone.

"She's down here," Ada smiled, "after you.”

[dndeviants]

More discovery

Linda followed after Strahd upstairs, and broke off to investigate an L-shaped piece of furniture. She looked around: To her left was a heavy oaken door, to her right were pieces of furniture that had been smashed or were rotting away. 

Books were scattered about, most of them appeared holy in nature, but strangely, they had full sun symbols on their covers, and not the half-sun that she associated with the Morninglord.

Aric followed after Linda and saw the books as well. Both of them reached for one to read...

Linda’s book was damp to the touch. She opened it and saw that the ink inside was smudged. She tried to read it, in spite of herself, and furrowed her brow at the incomplete words and passages:

...Father Sun, Auman--or, being the Ke-per of Law, S-n, and Ligh-... we are b-t serva-ts to thee...

Aric picked up a book. This one had a clear title, and it was "Aumanator, Keeper of the Sun." He opened the book to read the opening passage, some of the ink had faded in time:

Aumanator, Father Sun... being high above all other gods of T--il, are the bringe- of Law, Order...

Aumanator, He recognized the name from his extensive study of Faerunian history. He was the Sun God that helped to found the Faerunian pantheon before his death, and subsequent reincarnation as Lathander Morninglord.

He was the god of a people that came before the Chondathans, and preceded the Tethyrians, and most importantly, he was a god of a people that the Calishites had gone to war with, far back in history before the Dale Reckoning.

Odd... those people’s culture died out long ago... why would records of their god be here? Aric thought.

He decided to voice his confusion, "These books speak of a God that was worshiped by the people of Toril long ago, back to the founding of the pantheon of Faerun,” he added, “I know time flows strangely here, but I can't understand why these records are here.”

Linda raised a brow, "Who is the God?"

“Aumanator, God of the Sun,” answered Aric, “After he was reincarnated, he was known as Lathander Morninglord.”

Linda vaguely recalled from school that the reason Aumanator became Lathander was because he was not so much “Good” as he was “Law,” and that he lost several followers because of shadow magic that altered the face of Faerun... Shadow magic that ripped the Netherese Kingdom off of the face of the continent, and shadow magic that altered the Western Heartlands... 

The people who worshiped this god, she recalled, were people who were recorded as “Talfir,” by the elves. “Talfir” meaning “conquerors” in their tongue.

 "His followers were called the Talfir by the elves if I remember correctly,” Linda added, “Those people don't exist in Faerun anymore. Why is their God recorded in these books here in Barovia? Unless...."

Linda made a face in thought.

"Do you think they came from here?" Aric asked.

"Either that or the opposite,” Linda looked to the genasi, “They came from Faerun."

"I suppose either is possible,” Aric admitted, “but how does this fit into everything going on here?"

"Well...” Linda thought about what she knew about the Barovians, “It makes sense that their faith was supposed to be based on law instead of goodness. Which could be why the Abbot wasn't taken kindly to- the Barovians don’t seem to care so much about goodness.. and that may explain why the Abbot became so.... awful."

She furrowed her brow, "But why would the Abbot keep the books?"

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

Strahd let the two explore the ruined library. He paced around his old fort and noted the changes that had occurred within.

Decayed, dismal... much like the rest of Barovia. He looked at the damage to the room... A fight had happened here, long ago.

It didn’t surprise him.

When he had turned into his undead self, one of his closest companions, his faithful friend, Lady Ilona had fled here, taking up residence in this fort that he had intended for the priesthood, for his brother...

To her credit, she amassed a very decent following, and taught many the clerical and healing Art... and one of her best students was a girl, Aurica Markovia-

Saint Markovia, Strahd corrected himself with much ire. 

Lady Ilona passed on, and left the fort turned abbey to her favored pupil... but apparently, that was not the only thing that she passed on.

The knowledge of Strahd’s true nature was only known to three people: Victor Wachter, Leo Dilisnya, and Lady Ilona herself... but as Lady Ilona passed on, she gifted- or burdened, rather- Aurica with the knowledge of Strahd’s transformation, the truth...

She honed her powers, Strahd nodded to himself, made a name for herself as a miracle worker, and was referred to as a saint by the people of all Barovia. Many came to her...

Many to join her Holy Crusade. She did come for me, came right up to Castle Ravenloft... what she considered the source of all evil here-

Perhaps, in a way, she was right. Strahd admitted to himself, But it was still such a shame... I had no interest in the church, she could have lived a long life if she so chose. But no... I was naive. So long as there are the faithful here, I will never know peace.

He grimaced as he thought of their battle. Her loyal dogs fell easily, but her... He rubbed the side of his leg with remembered pain. Her, not so much.

But what is done is done, and all that remains are... her remains. Remains that he made certain would be sealed away in the crypts of Castle Ravenloft for all time... her faith had imbued her bones with holy power, and he was not allowing anyone to venerate her bones as they had with St. Andral... 

He looked back to the furniture in disarray. The priesthood here was weak without their leader. They turned on each other, all vying for power... sullying the Abbey, Ilona’s hard work... 

Killing each other. He sighed. It was long past. But in the end, the girl still had her victory. She had shaken his power for just a brief moment- and to quell the inconvenient inquiry into her disappearance, he was forced to canonize her as a legitimate saint...

He walked over to a small chest and looked through it, seeing a few magical scrolls. He parsed through them with disinterest. Nothing quite new- oh? A scroll with a Spell for Raising the Dead... Interesting. Of course, he couldn’t use it himself... but perhaps it would be a great bargaining chip in the future. He gently slid the scroll into his pack, and decided to end his stroll through memory lane.

He turned to his two companions who were having a conversation over ruined books. Curiosity overwhelmed him as we strode over to him, "Find anything interesting?"

Aric nodded, not looking up to Strahd, “These books speak of an old god from Toril, Amaunator, later known as Lathander Morninglord,” he explained, “The faith was based on law, which explains the Abbot’s odd behavior, but we don't understand why he would keep the books."

Strahd blinked, "The Abbot didn't bring anything here. These books were standard for the monastery. They are from my time as a human general... I had forgotten the name of Father Sun proper, but it would hurt me to say it... the god is from... Toril, you say?"

Linda nodded,  "He is from our world. He was an old god,” she paused, “If I remember correctly, he lost several followers because of Shadow magic that altered the face of Faerun... And he was reincarnated into Lathander."

Strahd shook his head, "The names you speak mean almost nothing to me. I fought a war here to preserve our people's religion and our nation's sovereignty from those desert-dwelling invaders, the Tergs. I spent half of my life on the battlefield in the name of that god and my father. A lot of good it did, if he ended up dying anyway..."

Strahd walked through the debris, bitterly, "And a lot of good faith did for us."

Linda shrugged,  "I still don't get how you have a god from Faerun in your history."

Strahd tilted his head, "Probably the same reason there are many countries in the Shadowfell. We were all pulled from somewhere...” he locked eyes with Linda, “Perhaps we were from your world once. Is that hard to imagine? You are speaking Balok right now."

 "Balok?” Linda shook her head, “I'm speaking Common."

Strahd raised his hand, "I didn't have to use any translation spells to understand you, like I have those from other worlds."

Linda blinked, feeling numb, "So Barovia is from our world..."

"It may be so. Or perhaps not,” Strahd shrugged in frustration, “What does it matter now? We are no longer part of any world. And escape so far has proven fruitless. In any case... it certainly did not help the Abbot that the people here have confused the faith.”

Strahd’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Here, I am the Law, I am the Land. Gods have very little sway here."

Linda looked away from him and sighed, "Let's just look around more."

Linda stood, and walked over to the next room, Aric and Strahd following her lead. She opened the oak door...

The room had several beds... and as soon as they entered, six shadowy forms emerged from under them, hissing and clawing at the floor...

Linda leveled her gun and fired rapidly, Aric pulled out the Sunsword and it’s light evaporated the shades. It could hardly be called a fight.

Strahd and Linda groaned in unison. Strahd in pain, Linda in exasperation.

“Well, something of import must be in here for all that..." Linda muttered.

Aric noticed Strahd covering himself from the light, and quickly dismissed the Sunsword’s blade, "Sorry about that Lord Strahd, I'm going to have to be more careful about using the sword!"

Strahd shrugged his cloak away from his face, sighing,  "It's alright. It's a tool. And it is useful against such infestations like those. I'll just be mindful of you."

They explored the room. Strahd found nothing of interest to him, but Linda took a sack of silver ball bearings, good enough to use as ammunition. Aric found a pack of herbs, and stored it in his pouch for Jeeves to examine later.

They made their way over to three doors. Aric opened the first of them, and saw a plain room with a table in its center. The table was covered in blood, and there were limbs strewn about. He slowly closed the door.

Linda checked the room next to him. There were old, wrecked cribs in this room. She looked beyond and saw a nun in white and blue robes by the window. Linda blinked, and when she opened her eyes, the nun had vanished.

"Huh..." was all Linda could say.

Linda peered into the next room, finding it empty except for a raven on the windowsill. It cawed at her and flew away.

Linda turned to Aric, "Welp.... I got nothing," she grumbled, "I hate this place."

Aric folded his arms, "I found a table covered in blood and body parts. Did you find anything... less horrific?"

"I found a raven and possibly a ghost," she replied.

Linda went to check the door on the other wall, and opened it. On the other side was an open walkway that overhung the courtyard below. It seemed that someone had put up several fearsome looking scarecrows along the abbey walls. 

Linda walked out there, Strahd walked alongside her.

Aric stayed behind, as Jeeves caught up with them, and he wanted to catch up his companion.

Strahd examined the scarecrows with amused interest, "Not bad. I could do better. These would make a good prank at the Castle."

Linda rolled her eyes and ignored him. She wasn’t having a good time at the Abbey, and his nonchalant, flippant manner was starting to wear on her.

They passed by another scarecrow. Strahd commented,  "Ah another one. I've always wondered why they were deemed scarecrows... they seem to frighten humans more so than they do crows..."

Linda sighed, "And it seems they fascinate more vampires than they do humans."

Strahd tilted his head toward her,  "No. Well, perhaps... I'm just looking for things to help keep people away from my home. Less gruesome ways."

Not even pausing, she asked, "What were the gruesome ways?"

"Impaling trespassers that tried to destroy me or my consorts on the gates of Castle Ravenloft."

Linda was sarcastic, "Sounds like those ran few and far between."

"The gates are a little sparse now," Strahd admitted.

They passed another. Strahd clapped his hands together with enthusiasm, "You know what would really get them running? An animation spell on the scarecrows. Make them look like corpses... then when trespassers try to brave the gates- have them start moving and moaning...”

Strahd lowered his voice to a playful, scratchy hiss, “Turn back now, beware the Devil Strahd... things like that."

Linda looked to him and raised a brow, "Sounds like a lot of effort."

"Not at all actually. Just animate objects and a minor illusion spell- you...” He looked at her expression and quieted, “You aren't actually interested in these things, are you?"

Linda snickered at Strahd’s expression and opened the door they had reached at the end of the walkway.

Strahd huffed, and pulled out a notebook to jot something down before following her into the dark room.

The room was almost too dark for Linda to see... she heard the same violin music from before and swiveled her head to the source... A mongrelfolk with two heads and a lobster claw was chained to a desk, clutching the violin. 

"What..." She took a step toward the mongrelfolk and tripped over a stray femur. She stumbled and fell, cursing. She looked up to see a dark red chalk pattern on the floor, "What the fuck is that?"

Strahd knelt down to help her up and glanced at the chalk, "Be careful. That is a teleportation circle...” He paused and thought aloud, “I suppose we know how the Abbot was able to sneak people in..."

Linda blinked at the vampire, "What happens if I touch it?"

"You get sent to wherever this portal is connected to," Strahd replied.

Linda looked back to the chalk, "Can we find that out?"

Strahd paused, then nodded, "Let me do some reading on the circle."

Strahd helped Linda move a safe distance away from the circle as he examined the chalk on the floor. He murmured a small incantation. The chalk glowed. He turned to Linda, "I think... this is a portal to the werewolf den. I'm almost certain of it.”

He rose, calculating, “I think this is where the real invasion is going to begin... we can destroy the portal, or go through it."

Linda stood up, "What do you propose?"

Strahd listed their options, "Well, we could destroy it and throw off the invasion attempt... or we could go to them and destroy the portal on their end, and disrupt their ranks there like they intend here. Ironic victory."

Linda thought, and gave her opinion, "I think the second option will lead to a better chance at stopping the invasion."

"Perhaps...” Strahd cautioned, “but we will have to be careful going into the den of our enemies."

"Is everything alright you two?" Aric called into the room. He and Jeeves had finished on the other side, and had come to check on the vampire and the monster hunter.

Strahd folded his arms,  "Other than her almost tripping into a portal to the werewolf den. Things are great."

Linda looked to Aric and Jeeves,  "We are going to go through a portal straight into the den."

Strahd looked surprised. 

Linda looked straight into his eyes, her voice serious, "I'm going through it."

"Through the portal to a den of werewolves?” Aric felt uneasy, “That doesn't sound like a good idea."

Jeeves folded his arms, "No, it does not."

"Thank you," Strahd indicated the boys.

 "Sounds like a good one to me," Linda smirked, keeping her eyes on Strahd, she walked over to the circle, “So?”

She picked her foot up and held it above the circle.

Strahd furrowed his brow at the woman, "That's foolish."

She raised a brow, "Are you going to stop me?" she lowered her foot closer, "Or follow me?"

Strahd sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was weaker than he would like to be... tired, fatigued, his magic power almost at its limit. It would be suicide if any of them were caught, outnumbered...

But for some reason, the thought of Linda getting killed...

"It appears that I am also, in this moment, a fool..." He tiredly stepped forward.

Linda put her foot down...

The chalk flashed purple. One moment they were there, the next they were gone. Aric sighed,  "I suppose we should follow them in case they need help."

Jeeves and Aric steeled themselves before walking through...

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

A cave... running water... The group looked at their surroundings, trying to get their bearings. There was a gash in the ceiling that allowed the gray light and cold drizzle from the outdoors to seep in... torches lined the walls of the cave. Just in front of them, an underground spring seeped forth. It appeared to be forty feet across, and a five foot ledge looked over it. Perched on that ledge was a single werewolf in hybrid form that happened to be looking in the opposite direction of where they were gathered.

Wasting no time, the group clung to the shadows, approaching the lone werewolf. Linda and Aric snuck up on it, and knocked it out. It collapsed, and returned to its human form.

Another werewolf just beyond flicked its ears backward. Jeeves moved forward with his shortsword, ready to pounce. He struck the creature twice before Strahd moved forward and punched the beast square in the muzzle, knocking that one unconscious as well.

As that one fell with a clamor, the group quickly tried to hide once more...

Strahd felt his fatigue, and let go of his physical form, opting to travel as a thin mist... it would be harder to spot him this way, at least.

He crept along slowly, beside them as they passed through rocky formations. Linda peered forward and saw ten werewolves, and two of the mutant werewolf hybrids.

She whispered, “Large group. Two mutants. Ten werewolves...” She looked for a path... if they moved to the right, they could make it to the next ledge. She pointed it out to the boys, "We can make it there."

Slowly, they moved by the lycanthropes... that group seemed to be speaking about battle plans, but it would have been too risky to linger. Linda moved past them...

Two werewolves in hybrid form were speaking, both female. One of the large mutant kind, and one normal werewolf. The large one with white fur spoke in a low growl, "Ingrid. Kellen has to fight. To make the pack strong. There is no exception."

Ingrid, the other werewolf, hissed, "But he is a child! They shouldn't fight! Kiril is your mate, Bianca! Make him see reason! There are so few of us already, we can't afford to sacrifice our young- even if it is for strength!"

Linda focused on moving forward... A werewolf was cornering a small child as the females fought... She saw steps leading down to her right. She moved up, and saw that down the stairs there was a statue of a woman with a wolf’s head, surrounded by coins, a dead man and woman, and cages of children...

Timothy! Linda saw him, cramped and huddled down with five other children. But she had to wait for the opportunity to get him.

Aric’s hearing became sharp and unnaturally crisp... He heard Mehmet’s voice... He turned to face the source and saw his cousin with two other people far across the way...

 "Yes, the circle should have enough charges to get everyone in and out. I just checked it upstairs," Mehmet placed his hands inside his robes.

A huge lycanthrope unlike anything Aric had ever seen hulked by Mehmet. His skin was twisted and purplish, eyes a jaundiced yellow, dark fur missing in some areas, with intense scars punctuating his body. This must have been the leader of the pack: Kiril.

He growled, "It better. I've wasted too much time at the walls for this to fall through. Dilisnya... what of your end? Will we be able to count on your... guild?"

The man Kiril referred to as Dilisnya was plainly dressed. A young, handsome face framed by curly brown hair, and cold blue eyes spoke with a silvery voice, "You've dealt with us long enough to know that my guild always follows through with its promises,” He made a gesture, “You have gotten stronger from it, you became pack leader, and now? Krezk will fall."

Mehmet seemed skeptical, "That's only if your angel friend can learn to keep a level head."

The man seemed unworried, "It'll be fine, we can still do it with or without him. He's almost outlived his usefulness anyway."

Mehmet seemed to shudder, "About time..."

Kiril growled, "Agreed... and what of the... mongrel-folk?"

Dilisnya waved dismissively, "They are just there to stir confusion, and horror, and despair. Useless as soldiers. I've already field tested them and found them... wanting."

Meanwhile, Linda looked to the mist that was Strahd. It reached forward, uncollected, almost unaware of everything around him... Her heart sank in realization, This is why he didn’t want to come! He’s... out of it. Tired... Why did you come, you stupid man?! Was it for... me? She looked around with worry, if someone noticed the mist....

Growls and the sound of fighting rung out through the left. Aric saw a werewolf approach Kiril, "Kiril! Ingrid and Bianca are at each other's throats!"

Kiril growled, "She would come to blows with my mate?! Now of all times? Let me deal with this dissent..."

Kiril pointed to the guards next to him, "Come with me."

Dilisnya sighed in distaste as Kiril stormed off. He spoke to Mehmet, "I'm going to the Amber Temple, to clear a few things up. Just make sure he doesn't get too carried away."

Mehmet nodded, "Right. And the mage?"

"Let him keep thinking what he thinks. And guide him toward the orchards... any luck, he'll think the trees are Strahd's minions, and the orchards will be razed in seconds," Dilisnya turned and departed upstairs.

Mehmet fidgeted with his hands and muttered, "I did not come here to be a servant. We'll get past this soon enough...” He paused as if he were listening to something, “Yes, understood, Great Pasha..."

Mehmet Rein murmured and walked up the stairs slowly.

Linda seized the opportunity and bolted down the stairs to the children’s cages. The children wept and shrieked at the sound of the fighting wolves. Timothy simply covered his ears and closed his eyes.

Strahd all but stumbled out of his mist form and pinched the bridge of his nose. He collected his bearings and looked at the children. 

Linda rushed over to the cage with Timothy in it, pulling out her tools, trying to unlock it. She called to her party, "We need to get everyone out."

Strahd replied, "We need to get everyone quiet."

Linda looked to Strahd. She didn’t care if he used his vampiric powers for this task, "Get to it then. I'll do what I can."

Linda focused on her apprentice, worry in her voice, "Timothy, Timmy. You need to help me quiet everyone. I'm getting you out of here."

Timothy opened his eyes and looked to her, shocked, "Miss Linda! How did you-? Oh gods, I left the shop unlocked, I'm so sorry..." He teared up.

Linda nodded, trying to calm him, "It's alright, I locked up."

Linda unlocked the cage and opened the door. Timothy stood, but the other children cowered.

Strahd stepped forth. Linda commanded Timothy, “Timmy, close your eyes.” Timothy did as told.

Strahd walked forth to the children and made eye contact with them. His eyes flashed red as he reached his influence over them. He spoke in his most soothing voice, "It's alright. You are going to be safe soon. Just lower your voices, children. Shhhhh...."

As he shushed them, they stopped their crying, their eyes glazed over. He had them under his control.

Linda took Timothy’s arm, “Come on... I’ll explain later. Help me get everyone else...”

Aric, Jeeves, Linda, and Timothy worked to free the children as Strahd calmed them with his supernatural influence.

Linda ushered the children, "Alright. Now upstairs we go. Quickly now...”

Aric guided them to the entry he saw Mehmet pass through, pulling back a curtain of human skin. There was no time to be disgusted. Escape was all that mattered. They walked up the stairs and came to an outside opening... There was a portal just on the ground, surrounded by a pile of stones.

Mehmet was there, facing the lake that was under them. He turned around, speaking tiredly, "Kiril, did you finish with the-”

His face contorted in fear and confusion, “Children?! What are you doing out of your cages?!"

Linda pushed the children forward, “Go, through that! Quickly!”

Timothy and the other children ran through. In a flash of purple light, they were gone.

Mehmet made a gesture, summoning bright energy around him, "You will not disrupt this!"

Linda raised her crossbow, "Yes we will," she fired a shot with her crossbow, but the energy seemed to slow the bolt near him, and made it glance harmlessly off of his side.

Aric grabbed his light crossbow and fired, trying to back away from his dangerous cousin, but he tripped over.

Mehmet looked to Aric and Jeeves, anger contorting on his face, he twisted a ring on his hand, cursing, "Damn you! I will be Syl-Pasha... because I have the greatest of Pashas on my side... Pasha of Pashas, Memnon! I summon you!"

A blast of heat struck them backwards... a swirl of fire emerged from the ring, manifesting into an unusually large efreeti... His skin ashen gray, and his szulduar angular and crackling.  The efreeti, Memnon roared, only Aric could understand its cry:

Freedom.

The rock around them turned into sand, flames nipped at their feet. 

Jeeves panicked,  "How do we destroy the portal? And more importantly- do we have a way out?!"

Aric turned to Strahd, yelling over the wind and fire,  "Can we destroy the portal from the other side?!"

Strahd looked to the creature, horrified, "No. We won't have the time! The portal will take us to somewhere else in the Abbey, and it won't guarantee that thing won't come through!” Strahd raised his cloak to cover his face from a stray ember as the efreet took one large step, “I have a spell- my last spell- to get us out. To destroy the portal, just destroy the symbols."

Jeeves didn’t have to be told twice. He drew his shortsword and ran over to the portal, trying not to burn his feet as he struck at the chalk on the ground.

Nothing. The symbols remained.

Strahd stepped forward and slammed a fist onto the ground, cracking the stone beneath, and shattering the integrity of the circle. 

Mehmet and the efreeti roared in unison as the efreeti summoned more fire around them... the smoke was starting to choke...

Strahd stood, and pulled Jeeves back with Linda and Aric.

“Stay near!“ Strahd warned as his fists glowed purple...

The Abbey... Strahd willed the spell, Bring us back to the Abbey-

A swath of flame licked at his back, just as the purple light enveloped them... Strahd cried out in surprised pain, his thoughts warped, his concentration lost...

I want to go home!

Drifting. Floating... Bliss... then stillness.

Everyone looked around them. They were... not in the Abbey. They were in an open area of what appeared to be a castle. A long red carpet lined a stone floor, with marble columns reaching to the ceiling. On top of the columns, gargoyles regarded them with leery expressions. Candles of red wax lighted the gray stone from golden sconces. Skeletons assembled to perform mundane tasks, sweeping the floor, dusting paintings... 

A chill swept through the hallway as it grew slightly darker in the room...

Linda grabbed onto Strahd’s shirt, anger overcoming her caution, "What did you do?! Why are we here!?"

Strahd pinched the bridge of his nose in a haze. What had happened...? He thought of the flame against his back, the pain... He sighed, "I suppose... I may have been... slightly off target..."

Aric looked around him, "Where is ‘here’ exactly?"

"Home,” Strahd all but whispered in tiredness, “Welcome... to Castle Ravenloft."

[gaasaku-fanfests]

Disconsolable Words

Title: Disconsolable Words Author: the-raging-demons Rating: T Word Count: 1.7 k Summary: Because sometimes, it was better to end a life without knowing what they looked like. Warnings: Themes of death Author's Note: I know the theme of death is heavily prevalent in Naruto, but in my eyes, it isn't explored enough; at least not in terms of what it means to the characters, other than an opportunity to grieve, a plot device, and forced characterization in the spur of the moment. Nor did I see many main characters weigh the risks of becoming a shinobi or ponder heavily about their loved ones dying, almost as if they were immune to it. Perhaps that's just me, and I still wish I explored it a bit more in this short one-shot. Enjoy!

 Prompt chosen: "Those things you said yesterday...Did you mean them?"

Partner: scarletpom [pinch hitter]

She was on fire.

But it wasn’t one of those fires that would consume forests for years onwards nor, was it the type that would bring the downfall of an empire; and whether it was willingly or not, he never hoped to know.

In his eyes, it would’ve been a shame to use the fire to light up something as small and innocuous as a simple cigarette, though if one frequently smoked, an early death was as certain as the sand trickling down to the bottom of the hourglass. But her fire wasn’t meant to be wasted so recklessly, it could only be used once before it died out, and one lighted cigarette never killed anyone.

No, she was on fire, and for once it gave him a sight to grimace at. Her haggard breaths echoed in the expanse of the desert, overlapped by the eerie breeze of a deadened land. She was a cursed torch, a will passed down for generations that will forever burn, one that was meant to light the way for those who were lost in the dark. Cursed, because, against the winds of his unwavering power and vehement apathy, that will started to perpetually flicker out.

He vaguely remembers that sanguine colored evening, in which he encountered her, miles away from his village’s border. The way the sun was setting and the sky was on fire, tides of lava passing by in the place of clouds. And if he had one word to describe their encounter, red would’ve been the word.

For he appeared before her, in shades and hues of red, from the robes that camouflaged the blood of his attackers to his marooned colored hair. And through his hairs, the rays of the sun, they made it seem like it was ablaze. But in the woman’s view, she felt herself be the moth that was destined to burn in the sphere of his beacon because the light was bright, but it burned coldly against her skin. His cold jaded eyes, how dead they seemed against the ardor of that fated evening, and the sense of hopelessness settled sickly at the bottom of her pit, once again.

His first instinct was to kill the woman that was barely hanging onto life, to save her of her agony and give her a proper burial. To a certain degree, he held to be true that a vast majority of shinobi never did have a place, one where their loved ones could visit and remember them. He gave out an ever so faint, pained smile, as his eyes contemplated upon the numerous pillars that stood around them, like the pale decaying ribs of an animal’s cadaver, close to being buried in the sand. For every life he took or finished, for every nameless face he encountered dying in the relentless hell, he would build an unyielding pillar against the furor of the desert.

He had decided that he wouldn’t even bother to look at her face, just another person that obediently gave up their life, for the overall good of their village, in the name of glory and peace. He understood, how the general good of the population surpassed the needs of the individual, he deemed it quite honorable and yet foolish. There shouldn't have ever been a reason, to feed another lump of flesh and bones, on the never-ending pile of humanity’s sins and errors. But greed and fear, it was a far stronger emotion than love and compassion. History rarely remembers the benevolent feats of people, but people tended to strongly resent on the ills that were committed.

The young man knew, as he stared blankly ahead, there was once a demon that plagued the souls of this desert paradise.

He let out a shaky sigh, watching as the cloaked woman fell down to her knees, almost on the verge of angry and exasperated tears. She pressed a shaky hand against her abdomen, the blood trickling down from her pale skin, tainting the sand red. He didn’t know why, but for once, it vexed him to see a dying person in front of him. It bothered him that he even cared in the first place, especially at a faceless and nameless person.

“I’m sorry,” he simply muttered as he parted the sands below her to form a pit, watching as her body was simultaneously falling. The woman gasped, as the blanket of death wrapped itself around her, while cushioning her fall. He shut his eyes closed, wanting to negate the remorse within him, but he knew he hesitated at killing the woman quickly. The man could have snapped her neck in an instant, release her of her pain and sent her straight to where she was meant to go. But for a hidden perverse reason, he wanted to see her fight, keep her in a mess and save her from herself. He, for once, wanted to play god and decide if that torch was worth keeping alight or not.

“Your name.” And if in the end, she couldn’t last, there would’ve been a name to the person that for once, had caused him to doubt himself. Though he was starting to doubt that, soft sobs were barely heard, camouflaged by the hollow winds of what he considered a memorial to the fallen. He peered down, at least to catch a glimpse of her, but the shadow of the pit, it didn’t allow him to see anything. That’s what he told himself, but he knew his eyes had the power to see any scorpion that crawled on the desert at night. No, he chose not to see.

It would’ve been another face to plague him at night.

“Why are you doing this?” It was barely audible, but she had spoken.

“Your name.”

“Ah. So that’s what it is.”

“What is?” He whispered darkly, his patience wearing thin because if those were going to be her last dying words, he didn’t like it. To die knowing something that he didn’t, in his eyes that was akin to being blind. But he couldn’t force them out either, what would he do, threaten her to death?

“Please, if you’re not going to save or kill me, leave.”

“Your name.”

“It’s not worth mentioning.” To him those sounded like dying words, the torch giving its last flickers. It had lost all of its hope, right before him. He decided then, that a slow death would have been best, just to see it shine for one last time, tendrils of sand coiling around the woman’s body like snakes.

“Why.” It was a simple question that could’ve meant anything to the both of them. He could’ve been asking any question, from why was she here, why had she decided to give up, why was the world such a cruel and wicked place. She could’ve given him any kind of answer and he would have been grateful to know that she had at least spoken to someone in her dying moments, even if it was a sense of rejection. They had died feeling an emotion, died feeling human and not a weapon of war. That would’ve meant the world to him. He would’ve been happy.

And before the sand could cover her face, the words that still haunted him at night echoed in the darkened place of his mind. To know that he ever made her feel like that once more, to have forsaken her of her sense of worth, it catapulted him into a rage that not even the sun of that evening could rival against. Because for all those years, he engraved in his mind the words he had spoken to her, and promised himself a punishment worse than death if he ever went against them.

 “Those things you said yesterday, did you mean them?” Her eyes always did shine with hope, and to him, that meant the world.

“There was quite a lot I said in the heat of emotions.” And in a split second, they returned to their vacant nature.

“Ah. Forget I said anything.” There was the infamous fake smile of hers, one that always looked like a dam holding in her tears.

“I mean everything I say. There’s never a hidden meaning. To me, those felt like the truest words I ever said in my entire life.”

“I’m…”

“You’re life is worth saving. To me, it will always be. That I vow to you.”

 “I’m not worth saving, Sabaku no Gaara.”

He forced himself to see a familiar, soothing green glow, healing the wound at her abdomen, as the other punched the sand away from her. The tendrils of sand, the shook along with his hands, as if taking a bit longer would change the truth by the time he unhooded her. As he lifted her up, it was then in the regality of the sunset, pastel pink hair burning bright, he knew. She truly wasn’t worth saving by him, she was the torch that erupted his body in flames. He had no reason to play god with her. He never will.

Because Haruno Sakura was indeed a woman of wonder, one that needed no saving from anyone, especially not from him. She didn’t need his promise of false hope.

The gloaming slowly creeped above them as a depressing blanket of lost hope, the sun giving them its last rays. The cold swept between them, along with the remnants of that promised night, the bleak and bitter feeling emptiness washing over him. If he had a word to describe that evening, red would’ve been the word. But as he stared into those eyes, peering at him with contempt, disappointment, fear, and vigor; an intoxicating chartreuse of regret would’ve been the words for him.

And her eyes, they never did see the mess that he turned himself into. The way his lips quivered as he silently mouthed a range of atonements and pleas. Nor did she get to hear the blood-curdling and deafening screams of rage, ones that echoed in the haunted expanse of the desert. She only felt his touch caressing her face, a soothing one that comforted her to unconsciousness, as his thumbs rubbed her tears away. Because to her, death had always been an option, but it wasn’t meant to be in the presence of someone she cared about. In the end, despite what he believed, she was happy to see him, even if was one last time.

[stowawayproductions-blog]

A Ghost Story

Human connection is a tricky thing. So many of us as artists think about humanity every day, desperate to glean as much meaning as we can out of small actions and silent expression, but many of us tend to withdraw from those subjects that we're so determined to understand. It's a strange mix of loving humanity and hating the humans. I think a lot of our introverted tendencies stem from fear. At least in my case, I'm terrified of losing that love of humanity that fuels my work. If I wake up one day and truly have no more wonder about the world around me, what do I have to film? As unlikely as that scenario is, every time a get a shitty customer, or my neighbor plays his music too loud and wakes me up, or even anytime I just don't understand someone, I can feel a piece of that wonder decaying. And with my boiling anger at my neighbor's indifference to my sleep schedule, I evaporate away that wonder about his sleep schedule, his life, his desires, his joys; all that is buried under a powerful wish to throw his stereo off the balcony.

A Ghost Story, very much like American Honey, forced me to sit through an uncomfortable exploration of my own defensive nature when it comes to contemplating pieces of humanity that I don't understand.

I couldn't wait for this film. My boyfriend warned me that it probably wouldn't be my thing (too artsy, too visual, not enough narrative), which I found slightly condescending and therefore was determined to enjoy and understand every minute. A friend of mine at the local indie theater described it as a life changing experience, leading to her staying up all night having existential conversations. Though that much hype is always worrisome, I brushed it aside, going with my old standby of "a great movie can withstand any amount of hype".

A large piece of our lives is rooted in sentimentality. People like me place their emotions everywhere all the time. I don't have a special spot, or a special notebook, or a special song. If I'm feeling sentimental, that spot that I'm in becomes sentimental, that song that's playing becomes the most important in the world just for that moment. It's powerful, it's creatively useful, but it's exhausting, transient and forgettable. I can't remember the last spot I sat in that felt very important, or the last object I held that made me feel at home. My sentimental feelings are like the rungs of monkey bars; I swing from one to the next just trying to stay up in the air, but once I'm finished having fun, they're just metal bars.

Anyone who connected with A Ghost Story, I suspect, is the opposite of me. It's a story stuck in the sentimentality of specific things, in this case a house. A house seemingly so meaningful that this man can literally never move on; and the word "never" is used in the extreme.

Coming down off my teetering tower of mixed metaphors for a moment: the first third of this film was perfect. I really really want to re-cut this down to 30 minutes and turn it into the greatest short film in the world. Rooney Mara is stunning. Her portrayal of grief is beautifully heartbreaking and real, exuding the complexities of missing a dark and sad relationship. David Lowery’s cinematic choices in this first act are subtle, thoughtful, mature, and graceful. Not to mention incredibly brave. A tear jerking still shot of Mara eating a pie for three minutes straight is perhaps one of the greatest moments in film history. Also, if Casey Affleck could always play a silent character hidden under a sheet, that would be great with me.

In the second act the film takes a turn for the uncomfortable. Jumping awkwardly from era to era, it's hard to grasp hold of what the writers are trying to say. Every time I would come up with a metaphor that made sense, the next scene would discredit it. New characters jump in and out as quickly as themes. I ached for that beautiful first act, a comfortable and simple story of loss and love. The film just can't quite find where it's supposed to be. It was painful, it was alienating - the film itself was everything that Casey Affleck's ghost was feeling. We were brought into his heart by being made to feel as uncomfortable as he was with how fast this world was changing. He misses his partner; we don't only sympathize with his pain, WE also miss his partner and her perfect world and story that she's wrapped in. He's desperately trying to attach meaning to everything that's happening, but that meaning doesn't make sense, it can't take hold, because not everything is meaningful, not everything is sentimental in the way that he thinks it should be, and focusing so intensely on making everything matter blinds him to the joy he had every day of his normal, often meaningless life.

Now, I'm not one for giving credit where I'm not sure that it's due, but IF the film was intending this kind of meta emotional experience, it's ingenious. If it wasn't it's a messy, directionless story that's too big for its britches. Whichever way I ultimately decide to look at this film, no piece of art has made me feel more alone.

My boyfriend was profoundly moved by A Ghost Story. The critical reviews that I had read at the time hailed it as an emotional masterpiece. I wasn't feeling moved, or existential, or even that emotional, and that led to panic. If I don't understand a song or a book, whatever, I can write it off as "not being for me" and move on to something else. But I am an indie drama film maker...I can't just not understand an indie drama and have it be okay. This passion defines everything about who I am. It's the only interest I have. Every book on my shelf is about film. Every picture on my wall is about film. Every plan for my life is centered around my intense love of film. Why couldn't I grasp this? Clearly I'm not superior to everyone around me; I don't know more than my favorite critics or my similarly-film-loving boyfriend, so why did this supposedly perfect film hit me so wrong? Am I a child still, only able to appreciate plots and themes that are spoon fed to me through a three-act hero arc? And if so what the hell am I doing trying to write complex, nuanced, emotional films? Failing, probably. It was a bizarre and unpleasant mixture of my inner middle schooler and my inner old lady fighting it out between feeling like no one understands me and like I don't understand anyone else (and accepting that perhaps that's just life). Is that life as an artist? The slow and painful discovery that no one will ever understand your work, and you'll never understand theirs?

It's interesting trying to break into the film industry from a small town in Oregon. There's this constant feeling of both literal and emotional distance. No matter how much I learn about film it's all theoretical. Even when I physically have a camera in my hand there's still a feeling of disconnect, I don't really feel in it yet, because I'm in it alone. My last crew consisted of a biology student, a grocery store clerk, and waiter. I wouldn't have it any other way, I love the people in my life, but there is a certain feeling of playing dress up that leads to my own disrespect of my work. I keep thinking that getting to a big city, or going to school, or just meeting more film people will bridge that gap between theory and reality, but now I'm starting to think that loneliness is just part of the job; and maybe that's okay. Maybe it's okay that A Ghost Story exists in this moment in my life, troubles me and makes me question everything I know, then slowly fades away. Maybe it's okay that Lowery will never really be understood even by those of us who spend every waking moment thinking about film. This isn't world politics, people understanding an agreeing with our work isn't life or death.

Our films are like small conversations on a park bench. Who knows what that conversation will mean to anyone else, and who cares? It's a transient, sentimental moment, seething with life at the second when it's happening, then quickly fades and is forgotten to make room for new moments, new films, new  thoughts, and new misunderstandings.

Huh, look at that...A Ghost Story made me feel existential after all. Go figure.

[garywonghc]

When the Retreat is Over

by Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche

Let’s start with what people can do to support and cultivate the insights they’ve gained on retreat once the retreat is over?

First, you need to sit in formal meditation every day. It doesn’t have to be for long — perhaps half an hour, depending on your time and willingness. Consider meditating more than what you already do, but don’t promise too much. It’s important to build up the habit, whether ten or thirty minutes, because even if people love meditation, when it comes to regular practice, many do not meditate.

Some people say they don’t like to look at Facebook so often and think that it’s wasting time, but when it comes down to it, they cannot control the habit. In order to end one habit, we need to develop a new one. Building up a new habit will take twenty to thirty days. So set a goal for formal meditation that is doable in your life and keep at it — whether you do or don’t like it — and after thirty days it will become easier to maintain.

You also need to do informal meditation, which you can do anywhere, any time — while you’re walking, eating, having a meeting, watching TV, or checking Facebook. There’s no need to look for a cushion or have a particular meditation posture; just be aware of your breath, even for a few seconds. Making this practice part of daily life can help maintain the retreat experience.

After a retreat, it can be difficult or even disappointing to go back to everyday life. Why is that? Are our expectations too high?

It depends on your meditation technique while doing the retreat. There is a lot of misunderstanding about meditation — many people think it means to have no thoughts, or just to concentrate or bliss out. If you think the purpose of a retreat is to make your mind calm and peaceful, free of thought and emotion, you may become attached to that state of mind. But the point of meditation is actually to transform, not to look for peace and calm.

Even thought and emotion can transform into meditation. Just as you’re aware of your breath coming and going, so you can watch your thoughts, emotions, and pain come and go. Slowly, everything becomes support for meditation, and the gap between being in retreat and out of retreat lessens.

You endured very difficult conditions during your wandering retreat, and even got quite sick. Yet you have described it as the best time in your life. Why is that?

Ever since childhood, I had wanted to do a wandering retreat in the mountains because I loved mountains and caves. I like to explore, and this was an adventure. I also wanted to go on this retreat to enhance my meditation experience and to learn more about life. I had a fantasy about the wandering retreat, but the reality was quite different.

At the beginning I had some money, about 2,000 rupees, but after three weeks that was all gone, so I lived on the street. The first night was very difficult. I had to beg for food and got sick from something I ate. I had vomiting and diarrhoea for three days and thought maybe I was going to die. I was very nervous, wondering whether I should continue or go home. Although I had been practicing meditation for a long time, I still had a lot of attachment and I was trying to let it go, peeling off layers like an onion, but still there were more. After three or four hours I decided, Okay, I’m going to stay, and if I’m going to die, just let it be. I began practicing dying meditation. My body was dissolving, everything decaying. I could not see or hear. My body became paralysed, but my mind was so clear — beyond time, no inside or outside, like a blue sky with sunshine. I stayed in that state for about six hours.

When I opened my eyes and looked around, everything became precious. The streets felt like my home, and the trees, even the broken walls behind me, looked so nice. I felt such gratitude and happiness. When I finally stood up, I felt a bit thirsty but only walked about two steps before I fell unconscious. Fortunately, someone took me to a hospital. Because I grew up in a nice family and always had good friends and students taking care of me, I had lived in a bit of a cocoon. If I hadn’t done the wandering retreat, I never would have had this experience.

It’s been about a year since you completed your wandering retreat. How did that experience influence you? What has changed for you?

It has greatly benefited my meditation — my meditation before and after retreat are completely different. Also, I now have more confidence, faith, and grounding. Even if there are negative emotions, pain, or problems arising, on a deep level, my mind is at peace.

What would you say to someone who is trying to decide if a retreat is right for them?

Three things are most important: motivation, balance, and not attaching to the meditation experience. Don’t put so much expectation on a retreat. Just think, I’m going to do retreat, whether it will be good or not. As long as I don’t kill anyone during the week, that’s okay. Try your best, and for motivation, think, I’m going to do retreat not only to benefit myself but also my friends, family, colleagues, society, and the world. If you are a Buddhist, think of rousing bodhicitta for the benefit of all sentient beings, so they may recognise their true nature and completely awaken.

Sometimes a retreat is a wonderful experience, and sometimes the mind is wild, full of thoughts and emotions. Don’t concern yourself about whether your experience is peaceful or not. Just try what I call “zero meditation.” Zero meditating means you just try to meditate, not caring if you have an experience of meditation or not. That effort of trying will bring you authentic meditation in the future. So don’t stay with the meditation experience; just stay with the wish to meditate. That���s how you will find balance — try your best, but don’t hold too tightly to the results. If you experience some joyful or clear nonconceptual state, don’t think “I achieved enlightenment” or “This experience will last forever.” That is the mind of grasping and attachment. It’s okay to feel good about your meditation experience, to have gratitude for it. But don’t attach to it. Today you had a wonderful meditation experience; who knows how tomorrow will go?

[opalmothnightingale]

Gaming the Time Gambling Machines, Mirages of Time, Chance & Probability

3- 3- 18 - 

I think that if I observe and learn and contemplate and explore, seek guidance, and get taught too, by spirit beings, and books and the examples and words of others and my own experience and experiments,..

Then all of this may free me from the binds of the lower realms of being bound by the rules of unfairness, power over, exploitation and instead if I watch long enough I can throw the whole game out the window, flip the whole thing out of my face, out of my zone, out of my world, because I will have observed the trends, patterns and probabilities, weaknesses and particularities, peculiarities, etc...  

So I can then say yes do this now, then this, then this when and not this, avoid this,...  Eventually overturning the whole system and getting out of the game.  It’s not that I’ll be unfair or greedy,...  

But that I’ll finally find the Achilles's heel of those who would be unfair to me, ...and I will learn to live in the world of time, of the endless cycles of birth, death, illness and change,...  And, t not be taken up in the endless through the mill nature of it,...  Thereby finding how to not be beaten helpless, subsistence survival,...  but finally, something much better to give back also to those who are still stuck on subsistence or worse...  

I think that if I watch, take notes, plan, experiment, long enough that maybe the mirages of time will be detectable and I will not be led on a wild goose chase, trying this or that, feeling I’m being led to this or that or promised this or that thing and only to find it snatched away or constantly changing the goal posts,...  Finally overcoming the illusory nature of life to attain peace, joy, love and well being for myself and all I’m duty bound to care for and try to do my best for.  

My daughter, cats, and all those whose ripples interact with my ripples, even far indirectly, but the wake of our waves will affect each other. 

I think maybe if I can observe for long enough then I can detect the real direction from the leading on, karmic lessons, changing goal posts that even spirit often heavily places in our paths so many hurdles and so much tangle and confusion and pain, because of the nature of life and because even spirit is not really as omnipotent and omniscient as we think, exactly...  

But, I’m hoping that, if I can work it long enough, observe it, experiment, and analyze, learn, get guidance, in the place above time itself, then I can finally find the loophole ...  the rare angle...

From there, the rare knowledge and skills and development,...  And all that,  That keeps me...  Holds me safe, and keeps me...

Keeps anyone who knows how to see and do all this, so hard to learn, see, remember, understand,and  develop the skills,..

But if you find how, you are kept free, at last,...  So free, ah...  

Ah...  Free,...  Smile.  And,...   Since so free,... 

Then from that freedom, elaborate patterns born...  From there, the answer becoming clear and never to be erased, bold and raised up and strong, permanent pattern...  And so free, that from the pattern arisen, .

..Also, clarity breaking out like endless lines of the sun’s rays that scatter every direction, not just flat...  So, from this you see, and are truly there to climb the stair to clouds and stay there,...  To stay and say and speak freedom that becomes really alive...  You are from then on out free,... Ascended truly, free from getting sucked into any cruel whirlpool ...because of it all... 

All the bad things that try to pull you into their spin,..  if you don’t see better or detect or react right...  Never again sucked into it,...  Because of all that has gone before and continues in the wheels of endlessness,...  all the decay of mind, heart, soul, love, relationships, needs, passions, purposes, direction, etc that are so rampant in the human world despite peoples’ best efforts so often. 

Instead, you are finally able to be free,...  Ahh... and able to have heart, mind, soul, love, relationships, passions, needs, and endlessness that is healthy and good for you and your loved ones and those you are bound to in healthy ways, but ever beyond the spidery webs of wrong ideas.