#irregular shape chains

[xstardustbatsx]

Yall i just stared at the notifications like

I have also started a new project before finishing the old one

Will this cycle continue? One could only hope

we may be ascending to see the gods twice in a week but at least we have ideas

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 12 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

A/N: HELLO WORLD!! PHEW. It's been a while. I know I'm posting it at a random hour but I needed to get this chapter off my chest. I explained on tumblr why it took me so long to update. To be honest my cat is still in a bad shape and I'm still absurdly worried about her… but oh well, I needed to post this chapter to think of something else for a while, at least. So it'd be very kind of you to leave a comment to help me not freak out about my cat :)

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

You’re tired of fighting.

Your limbs are heavy, your throat burns, bruises cover your skin. Still, you try to run.

It’s useless. The two women dragging you inside the tomb are way stronger – unnaturally stronger than a human being should be. You growl like an animal, you kick and try to punch and claw anything on your reach. It’s still useless. The piece of cloth tightly wrapped around your mouth prevents you from speaking anything coherent.

The corridor opens to a big hall. The place is ancient, it is brightly illuminated by many torches. Strange paintings cover the walls and tall columns. There is a platform and something that looks like an altar ahead of you. On their sides, there are tall ceramic vases, five on each side. Sitting at the right side of the altar, there is a statue: the body of a female, the head of a lion, wielding a spear.

There is a woman standing on top of the platform.

A violent shiver runs down your spine. You know that woman… she was the first thing you saw when you woke up. If she didn’t exude cruelty and malice, maybe you would’ve thought she is beautiful: her tall stature, her long curly dark brown hair, her full lips and pink irises… but you know better. There is nothing good about that woman except her appearance.

She wears a similar white tunic as the other women in the hall, but is the only one wearing a golden headpiece, a thick necklace and many bracelets. Her expression isn’t cruel and mocking at the moment like you’ve seen her before. She just looks serious.

And there’s that other thing on the altar, too.

It… it resembles a woman, but you’re not sure: as pale as a cadaver, contrasting with the warmer skin tones of all the other women inside the tomb; its hair is long, straight and red, resembling a lion’s mane. The creature is… strangely tall, its arms and legs are disproportional to the rest of the body. It’s completely naked – you see the rags of what probably was its clothes scattered around the altar.

And it looks sick.

It’s way too skinny. Its ribs are very clearly outlined on the skin. Its cheeks are profound; its red eyes have heavy dark circles around them. Its whole body is trembling, its breathing is irregular. It drools like a sick dog.

And they are pulling you towards it.

After the initial shock, you begin to kick and scream again, but it’s still useless. You don’t want to be anywhere near that thing. It smells awful, it’s uncanny and scary and violently unnatural…

The other woman – who appears to be some sort of leader – grips you by the arm and drags you closer to that creature. She is even stronger than the other two who held you previously. She says something in a language you don’t understand.

You scream again. You try to pull your arm back, you try to claw her–

She squeezes your arm.

An agonizing yell erupts from your throat. Tears well up your eyes. Your legs fail.

You could hear the sound of your bones cracking under her grip.

That creature holds you this time. It pants like an animal. Even through the pain, you try to push it away – but it is useless.

Its long fingers entangle around the hair at the back of your head; it pushes it, forcing your head back and exposing your neck. It open its mouth wide, its horrible fangs approaching…

When it bites your neck, you can’t scream anymore; its jaws completely block your trachea. You gag, your eyes pop wide. There’s a suction noise… it is sucking your blood, you realize with horror. Your good hand still tries to pull its hair, but once again, it is useless��� extreme weakness roams your body. The world twirls as every bit of strength disappears. Your head hurts as if someone had just hammered it.

Finally, it lets you go. You fall flat on the floor.

Your vision is blurred and darkening. You can’t move anymore. Your arm and your neck hurt so, so bad. And yet, you have time to see something before completely blacking out.

The creature doesn’t look like a creature anymore… its cheeks are not hollow, its limbs are no longer disproportional, body fat and muscles are visible again.

It is indeed a woman, not a thing.

She sighs contently and stretches her arms.

The world fades away.

Notre Dame’s high vaulted ceiling was indeed impressive.

How long did it take to build such a magnificent structure? How many workers were necessary? Who must’ve planned the building? How did they know that something so big wouldn’t crumble? Who must’ve crafted the beautiful stained glasses that colored the walls as sunshine touched them?

You had no idea.

You didn’t know why you were staring at it, either.

Your senses came back rather slowly. Voices… steps… everything echoed within the cathedral. The place you were laid at was uncomfortable… a wooden bench. One of the many you’d seen previously. Now that the place was properly lit by sunlight, it didn’t look as eerie as before.

Finally, you decided to sit up.

The great hall was full. The benches weren’t perfectly lined as before, which made you remember that Jules and the monks had used them to barricade the doors. You quickly realized that the injured in battle were brought inside the cathedral, where women priestesses wearing black tunics that covered their heads helped them (you heard two distinctive words: sister and nun. Was that the name of their position?). You saw them running from side to side, holding bloody pieces of cloth and water basins. Other civilian women were helping with medical aid as well.

No known face in sight.

Immediate nervousness set in your guts. Where was everybody? Why were you laying there?

This nervousness vanished in two seconds, however, when a familiar voice called.

You turned your head to see Charles, Jules and Henri rushing to where you were. You almost sighed in relief; Jules didn’t look seriously injured and Henri’s right shoulder was properly bandaged, though he still looked way too pale and tired. All of them looked worn out, in fact, with their uniforms ragged in some spots and blood stains here and there.

“Mademoiselle! You’re–“

“You’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“I’ll call for help! Sister! Please–“

You immediately raised your palm in Charle’s direction. “No, please. I am fine. I don’t need medical aid, thank you.”

The three boys sat down. They silently battled to see who would take their place by your side – Henri ended up winning. The other two sat on the bench in front of you, frowning at the ginger boy.

“What happened? Where is Alucard?” You asked.

“You passed out, Miss Ruby.” Charles explained. Jules elbowed him and angry whispered don’t call her by her name, you’re not her close friend!. “Mr. Alucard brought you down. After he checked that you weren’t hurt, he let you rest and left to care for the troops… he told us to take care of you–“

“He told me to take care of you.” Jules hissed again.

“He didn’t address you, we were all present at that moment…”

But their incessant arguing didn’t catch your attention, because you remembered someone and it immediately made your heart race.

“Mizrak!” You looked around, searching for his familiar face between the injured. “Where is Mizrak?!”

They eyed each other hesitantly.

“The monk, isn’t it?” Jules asked. You nodded. “He… he disappeared, Mademoiselle. He just weren’t there when we opened the doors again.”

“He might’ve crawled somewhere else,” Charles tried to calm you down. “There are other points in the city were the injured are being taken care of.”

“He’s a strong man, isn’t he? I-I’m sure he’s alright, somewhere…” Henri didn’t sound confident at all, however.

You instinctively gripped the fabric of your skirt. How could he just have disappeared? No one simply disappears. His wound was beyond serious, it needed immediate medical assistance. What if a vampire had dragged him away, fed from his corpse? What if he died because of you?

Which made you remember something else, for some reason. Your eyes popped wide once again.

“My scepter? Where is it?” Once again, you looked at your sides.

“My” scepter. Why did you claim it as yours so instinctively?

It just… felt right to do so.

“It’s under the bench, mademoiselle,” Henri pointed. You rushed to grab it, almost sighing in relief. Something so shiny would definitely attract thieves if you weren’t careful.

The three boys were engaged in some conversation. They were asking you questions, in fact, about what happened exactly at the top of the bell tower, where did that light come from, but you weren’t paying attention, focusing your eyes on the golden artifact instead.

You had already noticed it before – but the staff had a very subtle cone format. It got a bit thinner on the other end.

You brushed your fingers around it. The scepter… it didn’t look that unfamiliar anymore.

There was a small spot on the base of it, near the sun symbol. You pressed your thumb over it.

And then – the staff retracted.

It emitted a soft metallic sound as the entire length of the staff fit into itself. Now, you just held a disk – the sun symbol – that was a little larger than your hand, with ninety percent of the staff reduced to a small handle.

The four of you went immediately silent in shock.

“Wow.” Jules exclaimed. “How did you do this?”

“I don’t know.”

“It retracted perfectly,” Henri said in awe. “It’s an engineering masterpiece!”

They began to discuss between themselves again, and as much as you didn’t really mind their company, they were starting to bring you headaches. They reminded you a bit of a pack of turkeys – if one made a noise, all the others repeated.

“Gentlemen,” your voice immediately stopped their incessant talking. They looked at your with attention. You held the sun disk with both hands and rested them over your lap. “I didn’t have the opportunity to properly thank you all yet. Without your efforts, I would’ve never arrived here… and I don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if I didn’t. All of you saved uncountable lives today.” You managed to open a small smile while passing your eyes by each of the three. “Thank you so much.”

They got speechless for once.

You watched as their lips curved up into grins. Jules massaged the back of his neck sheepishly, Charles stuffed his chest like a bird, Henri got redder than a tomato. It was funny how these three were only big in size; in your eyes, they weren’t much far from the other three little boys you met in Paris.

You were also a bit surprised at your own speech. A week ago, you would’ve never even imagined yourself speaking with quiet confidence like that… you didn’t stutter once, which honestly felt great.

Finally, you stood up, being followed by them.

“Do you know where Alucard and the others are?”

Of course they knew. Of course they wouldn’t let you make your way there on your own.

The three guided you outside of the cathedral once again talking incessantly. You resigned yourself to replying with short sentences anytime a question was asked, way too focused on analyzing the destruction of the city. There was blood everywhere. The area around Notre Dame specifically was full of night creature carcasses; volunteers worked on grabbing them to throw them in a bonfire nearby. The streets were crowded as citizens helped clean the city, bring down the rubble barricades, measure the damage, or simply went back to their homes and establishments.

It was strange to see everything under the sunshine… and to think that just one or two hours ago, you were running around these streets, trying to survive vampire attacks, feeling the deepest fear you’ve ever felt – and trying to brush it aside. You had managed to, somehow… something unthinkable for the person you were a week ago.

...Had you really changed this much in a few days, or you were simply allowed to be yourself for the first time in your life?

“...What I’m trying to say, Mademoiselle,” Henri’s nervous voice caught your attention for the first time. He sent an angry glance towards the other two before looking at you with expectation. “D-Do you have a house in Paris?”

“No.”

“Great! I-I mean–“ he cleaned his throat and put his hand over his chest. “If you need a place to stay – to spend the night, perhaps – you are more than welcome in my house. It’s not far from here. We have enough rooms and food for you. A-And Mr. Alucard, of course,” he giggled nervously.

You half expected the other two to offer their homes as well, but they didn’t, to your surprise. They just looked at him with what looked like jealousy.

Before you could answer, you arrived at a great square – and you forgot about the three.

“Excuse me,” you said before rushing towards Annette.

The square had many people walking from here to there, dragging rubble or just watching – but you didn’t care. Annette is alive! More than that, she looked fine. The dark haired girl spotted you as well and rushed, meeting you halfway.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Where is Richter?” You blurted out, immediately searching for injuries with your eyes. Annette chuckled and held your arms delicately.

“I’m fine. We’re both fine. What about you?” She quirked one eyebrow up. “I heard you unleashed some terrifying magic.”

She lowered her eyes to the sun disk you held. You immediately avoided her gaze, feeling sheepish. “Well, I… I don’t really know how to explain what happened.”

Annette shrugged. “Neither do I.”

“Where’s Richter?” You repeated and started to turn around. Annette, for some reason, widened her eyes and was about to hold you back again…

“Wait–“

She tried, but it was already too late.

The first thing you saw was Alucard, standing at a good distance.

He was eyeing you intently. Juste Belmont was by his side – how and when did he arrive in Paris? – wearing an elegant long red coat.

When your eyes crossed his, your entire body froze.

What happened at the bell tower…

It felt as if your entire face was on fire. Heavens, you hugged him – you actually hugged him, you entangled your arms around his neck and cried like a child. You certainly were not in your right mind to do something so… so… so…!

But then, you looked at something else – the thing Annette was worried that you’d see – and all the other thoughts ceased.

Your stomach dropped.

A big bonfire was being formed by civilians bringing rubble; it was more than two meters tall, perhaps. In between the pieces of wood, there were corpses – the vampires that didn’t turn to ashes during the flash of sunlight.

And the biggest corpse of them all…

You instinctively stepped back.

Erzsebet Bathory.

She didn’t look like herself anymore. She was even taller than what you remembered, her red hair longer, her face distorted in animalistic traits… one arm had been chopped off. She had many bruises and injuries. Her cheeks were hollow, her mouth wide open in a perpetual expression of shock and pain.

Erzsebet Bathory was dead.

No mistakes this time, Alucard had said.

The sight of her destroyed, lifeless corpse made your stomach twirl. And once again, you hated the effect this woman had upon you even in death, even with you looking at her in that state. It felt like she would suddenly screech and launch herself at you like so many times before. You could almost feel her claws gnawing your skin, her fangs sinking in your neck…

She is dead. She is dead. She can’t hurt me anymore. She is dead.

Annette’s soft touch on your shoulder brought you back to reality. She looked at you with worry.

“Do you remember what I told you?” She asked quietly.

And when we defeat Erzsebet, justice will be done.

You closed your eyes for a moment and sighed.

“Yes. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” You reassured her. You weren’t fine at that moment, but you would be.

Finally, you spotted Richter walking towards you both. He looked very injured – he had multiple burns on both arms, the sleeves of his blue jacket had been ripped. He was limping and looked very tired, yet still managed to open a small smile to you.

He carried a long piece of wood. The tip had been draped with pieces of cloth.

His small smile vanished. He looked down at you with solemnity.

“You arrived at the right time, Ruby.” Richter looked down at the wood he held. “We believe… you deserve to be the one to do it.”

You finally understood.

That was a torch.

You gulped, your body got tense. Even so, you nodded accordingly. You wouldn’t be able to speak even if you tried.

Richter summoned a ball of blue fire in his hand and ignited the torch. You shoved the sun disk inside your vest and held the torch with both hands.

You took a deep breath before approaching the pyre.

The square stopped to watch the scene.

Erzsebet’s corpse was horrendous, disgusting. You decided to not avoid your gaze from it. You bent slightly, making the tip of the torch touch the wood at the base of the pyre. The fire spread rapidly.

You stepped away and watched.

The people at the square cheered at the sight of the so-called Vampire Messiah burning. Your world, however, was quiet. All you could hear were the sounds of the wood cackling, the flames increasing and consuming everything in the pyre. You watched with attention as the fire consumed Erzsebet’s corpse; it burned her skin, her hair, muscles and bones. And a part of you was grateful to be left alone – Alucard, Annette, Richter and the three boys decided to stand away.

Erzsebet was dead. Definitely.

She used to be your world merely a week ago. Everything revolved around her: your fear, your hopelessness, your hatred, your self-loathing, your confusion. You were just a shadow of a person, an empty fragile shell on the verge of breaking apart. She was your world – and your world was dark, cold, bloody and lonely.

Things were slowly changing now.

You learned that the real world also had place for colors. For kindness, friendship, perseverance and freedom. The real world was not a perfect place, but it was vast; and its vastness for sure should have a place for you somewhere – a place were you wouldn’t be hurt anymore.

At that moment, you decided that you would never cry for her again.

You had already cried enough. She had forced you to dedicate your entire existence for her. You knew that your wounds were way too deep to be forgotten, you knew that the scars that would come from them would be ugly and impossible to ignore. You knew that it wouldn’t be fast and easy to overcome your fears and all the disgusting memories she dug into your soul.

But even so, you decided not to cry.

She had taken enough from you.

When her skeleton was visible, you turned your back to the pyre.

Richter was leaning on Annette for support, his arm resting over her shoulders while she hugged him from the side. You approached them hesitantly.

Annette still looked worried.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

You looked down at your bloody sleeve.

“Disgusting. I need a bath.” Finally, you lifted your gaze again. “A friend of mine can help us out.”

You quickly found out why the other two boys didn’t offer their houses as well.

Henri was the son of a judge, who was apparently intimately tied to the leaderships of the Revolutionaries. His house was far from being as luxurious as the chateau in Machecoul (you figured that if Henri’s father had a house like that, he’d be next in the guillotine line), but it was still bigger and more comfortable than the average home anyway, located at the heart of Paris.

Henri had offered you (and Alucard as an afterthought) a shelter… but you figured he wouldn’t mind if you brought other visitors as well.

Right?

Well, his father certainly didn’t mind. The middle-aged man thanked Alucard over a hundred times, his eyes gleaming as if he stood in front of a golden statue, babbling how he was thankful for his help. Alucard listened patiently, but you were around him for long enough to start noticing his very subtle expression changes.

You remembered his opinion about the leaders of the Revolutionaries…

Well.

The rest of the group was more than happy to have a place to stay for a while, so there wasn’t really what to argue here.

“Stay for as long as you like!” Henri’s father repeated for the hundredth time while guiding everyone inside. “We have enough bedrooms, enough food… well, perhaps not enough clothes, but I’ll figure it out in no time! Tell me whatever you need and I’ll have it ready. All I have to offer is little compared to what you did to save our nation today!”

Alucard resigned himself to offer him a nod.

Before the white-haired vampire could focus on you, you immediately accepted a maid’s offer to get upstairs and have a bath.

...You didn’t know why you were avoiding him. Not exactly. Perhaps embarrassment? You’d never been deliberately touchy with anyone like that before. Well, you weren’t in your right mind at that moment for whatever reason. Maybe you crossed a boundary? Maybe you went too far? Alucard didn’t push you away, however – but he wasn’t one to be rude anyway… at the same time, it’s not like Alucard wasn’t someone that didn’t know how to establish boundaries. The fact that he didn’t push you away had to mean something, right?

He hugged you back, in fact.

He rested his face on your shoulder and didn’t move.

You felt his hot breath on your neck and his large hand softly caressing your back.

For the second time, he held you until you fell asleep.

Your face was burning hot.

Suddenly, for unknown reasons, you felt as if you were exposed again, as if there was a crowd watching you with scrutiny even though there was no one else besides the maid in the room. You felt burning embarrassment crawl over your skin and it burnt almost as much as the strange magic of the scepter. For the first time in your life, you dismissed a maid’s offer to help you bathe and decided to do it yourself.

And then you were alone in the bedroom, but you still felt strange and exposed and oh heavens you were disgusting. Sweaty, dried blood covered your skin. You got rid of those layers of clothes and sat inside the wooden bathtub – it was smaller than what you were used to, the water wasn’t as warm, there weren’t bath salts, only a bar of soap.

Erzsebet chose the bath salts you’d bathe in. She liked flowery fragrances.

And then you remembered that you still smelled of her, that her disgustingly sweet smell was mixed with the smell of blood and sweat, and then you were scrubbing yourself with the sponge and soap vehemently.

You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed, watching the foam spread over your skin. You scrubbed your arms and chest and legs and stomach and feet. But the smell wouldn’t go away, so you scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. You scrubbed until your skin started to hurt. That pain made you remember the sight of Erzsebet burning in the pyre, the sight of her skin boiling and melting from her bones – which, for some reason, made you scrub harder. You weren’t planning to, but you ended up untying your hair and washing it too, scratching your scalp with soap in frenetic movements because that bad smell was probably in your hair, too.

You scrubbed your own body until you were tired, until the water became actually cold, until your arms hurt from the repetitive movements. You stood inside the tub with water on your knees, the naked upper part of your body shaking in cold, and watched as blood dripped from the scratches you had inflicted on your own thighs. Perhaps… perhaps too much scrubbing. How did that even happen?

You sniffed your hair. Your skin. It didn’t smell of flowers anymore.

Just soap.

So you finally got out of the tub and wrapped yourself in a towel.

When the maid entered the bedroom with a fresh change of clothes, you avoided eye contact with her. She explained that the dress was Henri’s sister’s and perhaps it wouldn’t fit, but she already had a box of threads and needles to make adjustments. It wasn’t an intricate ball gown, but it wasn’t a simple dress either. It had cream and light green tones with pink flowers peppered around the corset and skirt. The dress was light and comfortable. It didn’t require many adjustments.

The maid offered herself to brush and style your hair, to which you politely declined. She probably wouldn’t be aggressive the way you were used to, but… no. Not right now.

When the maid left, you sat in front of the dressing table… and stayed there for a while. Disheveled damp hair fell over your shoulders. It was probably wetting the back of the dress. You didn’t care.

You stared at your own reflection for the first time in days.

The morning Alucard appeared in your life, you were doing just that – watching your reflection. Scrutinizing yourself. You didn’t look different. But, at the same time, there was something different about you – and you couldn’t tell exactly what.

You still had no past or family or name… but you weren’t just a bird in a cage anymore either, nor a lamb obediently walking to its slaughter night after night.

You were free.

It was scary.

What were you going to do from now on? You were actually alone. You owned nothing, and it was pretty clear that in order to survive in this world, you’d need some gold or coins or… whatever the currency was. You couldn’t assume Henri would let you live under his shelter forever and you weren’t innocent enough to not understand what it meant to stay.

You were nobody.

The others? They accepted you because you were a link to Erzsebet’s powers, an upper hand. Now their enemies were dead. They had no responsibility over you… you shouldn’t assume that they would take care of you like you were a child.

As humiliating as it might be, you felt like a child.

What would be your place in this world? Was something expected of you? Would they expect you to get married and have children? Should you find some sort of work? Should you perform some sort of role?

The reflection in the mirror frowned back at you slowly.

A… role?

...

You learned that your blood was valuable to her.

...

“But I am no vampire.”

“No. However, you heal like one. And Erzsebet drank from your blood for a long time, apparently.”

Annette looked at Alucard. “Do you think this was also somehow empowering her?”

The vampire took some moments to answer. “Maybe. We can’t be sure.”

…

That creature doesn’t look like a creature anymore… its cheeks are not hollow, its limbs are no longer disproportional, body fat and muscles are visible again.

It is indeed a woman, not a thing.

…

It took you a long time to realize that there was someone knocking on the door. You got up in a jump and rushed towards it with your thoughts rushing faster than the currents of a river.

It was Henri. He had also taken a proper bath, changed his clothes, and blushed furiously when his eyes fell on your figure. Maybe because your hair was damp and not presentable? Not very lady-like. Perhaps inappropriate. But you didn’t care, the same way you didn’t really pay attention to anything he was saying; his words seemed muffled and distant within the cacophony of your own thoughts.

The bandages on his left shoulder were peeking from under his blouse.

“Henri, would you do something for me?” you interrupted whatever he was babbling before. “But you have to trust me.”

His eyes widened. “O-Of course! Anything for you, Mademoiselle.”

You opened the door wide and stepped aside, pointing towards the bed. “Please, have a seat.”

His face got even redder, if that was possible.

“B-B-But Mademoiselle– it would be inappropriate to enter your room like that, when we’re alone–“

“Please.”

“Of course!”

He rushed in awkwardly as if that wasn’t his own house. You didn’t bother to close the door again – if the idea of being alone with you made him so uncomfortable, it was best to leave it open. Henri sat on the edge of the bed while blinking rapidly for some reason. His breathing also looked irregular. Was he feeling unwell?

“Can you show me your wound?” You asked. Henri widened his eyes again.

“Mademoiselle… hm…”

“Trust me.” You were running impatient.

Henri hesitated, but ended up taking off his coat and pushing his blouse to expose the bandages. You turned around to take something from the dressing table. When you turned around holding a pair of scissors, Henri got pale.

He was a bit of a chameleon.

Henri was about to protest again, but the look you sent him made him gulp and go quiet. You stood in front of him to carefully cut the bandages away and expose the gashes on his shoulder. They were properly cleaned and stitched up, but even so you could still see how horribly that vampire hurt him. If Henri’s head was centimeters closer to the vampire’s claws… he wouldn’t be here right now to change colors anymore.

Henri gasped when you brought the blade of the scissors and cut your own palm.

“Mademoiselle–!”

“Shh.”

He swallowed his words.

You hoped to be right. That had to work.

Carefully, you pressed your bleeding palm over his wounds.

Henri hissed. Your hand moved slowly to spread the blood over the entire surface of the gashes. The sight was unpleasant, to say the least… but it was less disgusting than making him drink your blood.

Please, work. Please, work.

Nothing changed at first.

But then, Henri gasped – and you gasped, too.

Your palm pressed over his wounds – your blood started to glow faintly. It took a strange golden color, as if it became melted gold.

Both of you watched in awe as Henri’s wounds started to heal right in front of your eyes.

He seemed out of breath. He frowned and hissed and you knew he was probably hurting because you knew that feeling. You stood upright and stepped away from him in slight shock.

The threads that were used to stitch the gashes fell over his lap.

Henri touched his own shoulder hesitantly. He pressed his fingers over it, massaged it. There was no sign that it was previously hurt… not even a scar.

You learned that your blood was valuable to her.

Why keep you around? Why keep you locked with guards holding you at all times? Why drag you along anywhere she went?

That was the answer to one of the questions that plagued your existence.

Henri was healed.

Finally, he rose his amazed eyes towards you.

“Miss Ruby… h-how did…?”

Then, he looked at something behind you and got pale again.

You turned around.

Alucard stood by the door, watching the scene with an astonished expression.

You locked eyes. With that simple gaze, you saw that he understood the situation completely.

One piece of the puzzle that hid your mysterious past was solved.

“...Why is he talking funny?” You whispered in Annette’s ear.

She quirked one eyebrow up and looked towards Juste, who stood not far from where you were sitting.

A smirk crept up her lips. “He’s drunk.”

Juste Belmont, Richter’s grandfather who you only saw briefly at his destroyed cottage, swayed slightly as if he stood on water, though the ground at the sides of the Seinne were clearly cobblestones. His eyes were half lidded, his speech slower and a bit difficult to understand. He held a wooden cup full of beer and talked to some unknown men who seemed to be in a similar state as him.

At your obvious confusion, Annette frowned. “Have you never been drunk?”

“I don’t know what that is, I’m afraid.”

Annette looked more confused than you. She eyed the bottle of the (not very good) wine you’d been sharing for the past hour or so. “Well, I’m surprised… given how much you’ve been drinking. You don’t feel anything strange at all? A certain dizziness? A sudden happiness?”

You put your hand over your own stomach and frowned. “No. Was I supposed to?”

She rested her face on her palm. “A normal person would be supposed to… but I guess your healing ability doesn’t even let you get drunk.” A small chuckle went past her lips. “It’s what happens when someone drinks too much of an alcoholic beverage. They lose their senses, get dizzy, sometimes end up saying or doing things they wouldn’t do when they’re sane…”

“Oh.” Funnily enough, you knew how that felt – but it didn’t have anything to do with alcohol… just extreme levels of “sun magic”, apparently. “I didn’t know wine has alcohol. It doesn’t feel much different than juice to me.” You quirked one eyebrow up. “Does juice have alcohol?”

“No. Hopefully no.” She shook her head. It seemed that Annette thought your confusion over some things amused her, much like Alucard. She looked ahead again. “Getting drunk is not always bad, you know. Sometimes it helps you lift your spirits.”

You looked ahead too, back to where Juste and his new friends laughed at the top of their lungs at something you didn’t hear, and silently wished you could get drunk if it’d make you laugh like that.

It was… strange, to say the least, how the night in Paris was so lively. Streets were crowded and well lit, laughter and music filled the air as citizens celebrated. Men, women, young or old – the entire city decided to go outside and have a huge party. It didn’t even seem that a literal war broke out only a few hours ago. Most of the rubble hadn’t even been collected.

It was like no one cared. Which, in your opinion, was a bit heartless, given how many lives were lost. But it seems they were just happy that the person who threatened their freedom was dead.

Well. You should be happy too. More than anyone.

Why weren’t you celebrating with them?

You craved freedom for as long as you could remember. More than that… you craved relief. But turns out, deep down, you never thought that day would actually come, and now that it did, you just didn’t know how to react. So your body and feelings just decided to freeze in this strange state.

The others seemed happy – well, maybe except for Maria, the blonde girl in pink. She talked a bit with Annette and Juste, but resigned herself to be quiet most of the time with perpetual melancholy over her features. From what you knew, Maria had lost her mother the day you met Alucard, so her actions were understandable.

Richter bounced back between talking to Juste and Annette. The black haired girl still seemed a bit apprehensive about something, but other than that, she was much more relaxed than what you’d known of her. And Alucard… he was somewhere. He left the house with everyone, but quickly got caught up in conversation with some generals you’d seen before.

So there you were. Sitting on a bench with Annette by your side, watching Paris celebrate the death of the Vampire Messiah, while you felt that you couldn’t even move.

It was overwhelming. And a bit uncomfortable.

Turns out you hadn’t really gotten used to crowds… it seems it’s not something that would change over just a few days. Many men you met the day before came to greet you with wide smiles in their faces (now that Annette had explained, you figured most of them were probably drunk too). Of course, you were happy anytime you recognized a face – one more soldier that hadn’t fallen. But at at some point… you didn’t want to talk anymore, or force smiles, or try to pay attention to whatever they were trying to say.

So you decided to sit with Annette for a while in this somehow hidden spot. It seemed she didn’t want to mix with the people as well. You wondered if it had anything to do with what Alucard explained about her past and her homeland…

Which made you remember something else – something you’d been hesitating to ask.

You straightened your back and cleaned your throat. “Hm, Annette… can I ask you something?” She looked at you and nodded. “Do you remember what you said or did while… well… while Sekhmet possessed you?”

She narrowed her eyes and looked down, touching her temples with her fingertips. “Not exactly. I remember what happened while I was in the spirit world… but even these memories are a bit vague in some parts. Like the memories of a dream.” She rested her hand back over her lap. “It’s always like that when I wander there.”

“So you weren’t really here while Sekhmet had your body?” Annette shook her head. Your shoulders dropped in disappointment. “Oh. I understand.”

She tilted her head. “Why you ask?”

“Sekhmet said something strange about me.” You avoided her eyes. Although they shared the same face, Annette had nothing to do with Sekhmet and the feral glare she sent you at that moment. “She said I should not be close to her.”

“What? Why?”

“She didn’t explain. That’s why I hoped maybe you’d have a hint… since you shared a body.”

Annette held her chin in a pensive expression. “...I have no idea, I’m sorry. But if I remember something relevant from when I was in the spirit world, I’ll tell you right away.”

You thanked her quietly and looked ahead again. You couldn’t blame her. Annette had asked how that flash of sunlight happened, how the scepter worked – and similarly to her, you had no answers.

Richter was, once again, approaching with a smile on his face. Perhaps that was the little push you needed to move. Whenever he came around, you felt that you were… interrupting. It wasn’t the first time you felt like that around them, but the situation became a little bit more intense. Maybe you really were interrupting, maybe they wanted some time for themselves but didn’t want to be rude.

So you finally decided to get up.

“I’m tired... I’ll head back now.”

Annette seemed a bit worried. “Do you want me to walk back with you?”

Again, you couldn’t blame her for being worried, not after all she had seen of you – acting like a frightened little mouse all the time. You shook your head and managed to open a small (fake) smile. “No, thank you. The house is just two streets away… I promise to not get lost.”

Annette hesitated… but it seems she understood you wanted to be left alone.

“Okay. Take care.”

You nodded and turned around, not waiting to greet Richter. It also made you feel a bit like that frightened little mouse again, but there was another reason why you felt confident enough to walk these two streets alone. The red string around your right wrist. You decided to keep it there, the same way you decided to take the red disk – scepter – with you wherever you went. The idea of it being taken from you was enough to keep you on your toes at all times.

You walked past couples, families, friends, children – talking, drinking, dancing, running around. You wished you wouldn’t feel this disconnected from their reality. No… it was a bit more complicated than that. You wished you had a family, a real past, more good memories than bad ones. Perhaps if you had these things… you wouldn’t feel so distant or lost or empty.

As much as you’d been avoiding to sleep, you assumed that sleeping right now would ease your feelings a bit.

That was when something very subtle tingled on your wrist.

You looked down in time to see the red string untying itself and falling.

Frowning, you crouched and took it from the floor again. Had you accidentally brushed on someone–?

If anything happens, anything at all, untie this string. Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.

Your eyes widened.

You looked around frantically.

Finally – you found him.

Alucard stood alone on one of the many bridges over the Seinne not very far from where you were. He was difficult to find at first, but as soon as your eyes locked on him, everyone else became blurred. He leaned both forearms over the stone railing in a relaxed position; his face held the serenity you were already used to. It’s like he was deep in thought. The soft night breeze played with his white hair. He looked down at the river.

His red string swayed with the wind, too. Untied. He held it between his fingers.

Your heart stopped beating for a second.

You stood there, unable to move, as if your body finally remembered how to feel something, how to not be distant. You gulped, gripped the sun disk a little tighter.

Mine will untie, too, and I will rush to you.

Alucard noticed you were avoiding him. Well, it was quite impossible not to notice. He didn’t make any attempts to approach you (you quite literally ran away from him earlier after the new discovery about your blood). But that… that was a very clear message.

A quiet invitation.

So you took a deep breath, trying to calm your stupid racing heart. Why were you scared? That was Alucard. You knew Alucard. He was never mean to you, never made you feel bad intentionally. You had faced a city full of vampires earlier that day… talking to him was nothing compared to that.

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You walked towards him.

You didn’t rush. You held the disk tightly, keeping it close to your stomach, the red string tangled around your palm. It seemed that your heart thundered louder on your ears with every step. It was like the world got blurrier and blurrier except for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, you stood by his side.

Two steps away. You looked down at the river, too.

Silence.

You weren’t brave enough to look at him. Alucard didn’t move, didn’t say anything. But… just like before, his quiet serenity enveloped you, made the celebration noises a bit distant.

It didn’t calm your raging heart this time.

It took you a while to understand that Alucard was waiting for you to speak up first. But he called me here. Doesn’t he have anything to say? Why should I be the one to speak first?!

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You gulped.

“I…” Your voice cracked a bit. You felt the urge to jump in the river and drown. “I don’t know how they have the energy to celebrate. It… doesn’t feel appropriate.”

Alucard sighed.

“The grieving families for sure aren’t out here.” Goosebumps roamed your skin when his calm husky voice reached your ears. “France is far from reaching real peace in the next few years… let them celebrate for now.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes glued to the river down there. It reflected the golden lights of the lanterns on the margins beautifully.

Come on, don’t be scared. Don’t be embarrassed. Come on. Come on. Come on.

You took what you had kept inside the sleeve of your dress hesitantly.

“A-Actually, I… I wanted to give you this.”

You turned to Alucard for the first time. He was already looking at you.

He looked down at the carefully folded handkerchief you offered him with both hands.

His expressions changed subtly. At first, confusion; then, surprise.

Then… a small smile.

You cleared your throat. “G-Give it back, actually. Since I ruined yours… I don’t know if it’s the same fabric, but it looks similar to the one you had.”

Alucard chuckled and took the handkerchief with care. When his fingers brushed yours, you felt more goosebumps.

“There was no need… but thank you. It is very thoughtful.”

You managed to smile, but turned to the river again before your face started burning.

With the corner of your eyes, you saw him put the handkerchief inside his coat and lean over the railing again. He was not wearing his cape. There was something different about him… perhaps because immediate danger wasn’t lurking anymore, Alucard felt comfortable enough to actually relax, and it reflected on his body and face.

You taped your pointer finger over the sun disk nervously. “How’s your wound?” You blurted out, desperate to not fall in an awkward silence.

Alucard instinctively touched his left shoulder. “Healed.” He looked at you again. “What about you?”

Oh fuck. He was addressing the elephant in the room – your strange state that made you weirder and braver than usual. Please do not mention the hug. Please please please please.

Once more, you avoided his gaze. “...Back to normal, I believe.” I hope is what you wanted to say, but perhaps it would’ve been a little rude.

“Do you have any idea of why that happened to you?”

You tightened your lips and frowned a bit.

You will burn from inside out.

It’s what the unknown female voice told you.

“I believe… I was doing something wrong at first.” You started hesitantly. “The magic. I was conjuring it in an incorrect way. I think my mistake harmed me. Burning me from inside out.”

Alucard hummed and held his chin.

“So it backfires. Magic so powerful should have its side effects.” Alucard seemed hesitant. “If it harms you… you should consider not doing it unless absolutely necessary.”

“No! It was just at first. I… figured it out later.” The thought made you tighten your grip around the sun disk by instinct. “Though, to be honest, I feel that that specific ritual shouldn’t be used in excess.”

Alucard’s eyes followed your grip. He quirked one eyebrow up slightly.

“I was meaning to ask you about this, too.” You handed him the sun disk right away, to which he took and raised to his eye level. “So the staff retracts. How did you figure it out?”

You shrugged. “It just felt right.”

Alucard grinned while handing it back to you. “It seems you’re remembering a lot of things.”

“...I’m not sure. It’s like I told you before… knowledge. Not memories.”

The white-haired vampire leaned on the railing again and looked into the distance. His expression got a bit more serious.

“I was thinking of what you told me. It reminded me of something.” Alucard seemed to hesitate. “...My parents were doctors. Both of them. My father, specifically, had a bit of a fascination for the mysteries of the human brain. He dedicated many studies and experiments to it. Wrote entire books.” Whenever Alucard mentioned anything about his father, it was like nothing else in the world mattered. You were completely focused. “From his many theses… he got to the conclusion that memories and abilities are stored in different areas of the brain. That could be why when someone suffers from memory loss, they still know how to speak, read, write… they know how to function.”

Your eyes widened at each word that left his mouth. “...Just like me.” Alucard nodded. You instinctively touched your own head. “So maybe this part of my brain is damaged?”

“Could be.”

“But why isn’t it healing back?”

Alucard hesitated.

“I believe we’ll figure it out soon.” You wanted to ask what the hell he meant by that, but Alucard decided to change topics drastically. “Talking about healing… did you tell anyone about what happened?”

Oh.

The absolute shocking news you discovered earlier that day, but that seemed pale at that moment in comparison with your nervousness to speak with him.

“No.” You shook your head. “But I was thinking… Richter’s burns are pretty bad. Maybe I could help him… or maybe if I knew where Mizrak is, I could save him...”

“Ruby.”

He put his hand over your shoulder – which made you swallow your words.

Quiet worry coated his features.

“I understand you want to help. But you should also understand that the properties of your blood are extremely rare and extremely valuable. It will put a target on your head again. So… the less people know about it, the better.” He dropped his hand from your shoulder. “Also… if in order to heal someone you end up getting hurt, I don’t see why you should do it.”

“But I always–“

“I know.” He interrupted you softly. “I know you do. That doesn’t mean you should hurt yourself willingly.” Alucard pressed his lips. “...Blood is life, Ruby. Don’t give your life away so easily.”

You sighed heavily and crossed your arms. “I guess you’re right. Henri knows about it, though.”

“He won’t tell anyone.” Alucard sounded way too certain about that.

It was your turn to lean on the stone railing, You looked down at the river. The pacific sound of the non-stopping flowing waters muffled the other noises – uncountable voices and music. You wondered if Alucard attracted you here on purpose… a place where you could focus on a single calming sound.

And perhaps that calmness gave you courage to ask the question you wanted to ask the most.

“What are you going to do now, Alucard?” Your voice was hesitant. Fragile, even… “Erzsebet and Drolta are dead. Your five year mission is over…”

Of course, you knew he and the others had no responsibility over you. You were well aware. And yet, the simple thought of being left alone frightened you. The idea that Alucard would wake up tomorrow and simply go away, and the others would go back to Machecoul, and Annette would cross the ocean back to Saint-Domingue… all of that was frightening.

You wanted to be free, not alone.

And the thought that you might never see Alucard again was even more frightening.

Should you have been attached to him so easily after just a few days? Was that correct or normal? You had no idea. What you knew was that Alucard was the first person to offer kindness and protection and understanding, and you didn’t want him out of your life so soon.

But that was not up to you.

So all you could do was ask.

Alucard leaned on the railing too. He was closer this time. Just one step away, not two.

“I think I should be making this question.” He said softly. “What are you going to do now that you’re free?”

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped past your lips. That wasn’t funny, however.

“I don’t have a family. Or a past, or a name. I don’t know where I came from or where should I go next. I don’t know why my blood heals, why I can read this language, where did this scepter come from… I don’t know anything.” You hated how fragile and bitter your voice sounded, but that couldn’t be helped. “...Is this even freedom at all?”

Alucard kept silent for long, respectful moments.

Then, he sighed deeply.

“There is only one place in the world where we could decode this language.” He pointed towards the sun disk.

You looked at him with a frown.

“There is only one place in the world where we might find out why you heal… and where does your strange magic comes from.”

Expectation bubbled within your chest.

“What place is it?”

Alucard closed his eyes for a moment. It was just a glimpse, but you had the impression that he didn’t really like what he was about to say.

But then, he opened his eyes to look at you – and his golden irises had nothing but kindness and quiet care, and the lanterns cast a soft glow over his features and white hair, and truly – he was so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at.

“My home.” He tilted his head to the sides. “...What used to be my home, at least.” Alucard straightened his back. “I’m making you an invitation, Ruby.”

Your heart raced. Your mouth got dry. Your eyes widened slowly.

“Do you want to… help me?” You, for some reason, sounded amazed. Why is it? Has anyone been more willing to help you than Alucard?

Alucard smiled and nodded – and, at that moment, with that simple motion, he seemed to ease all the worries of your soul.

“I do. I will. Let’s find out who you really are, Ruby.” Alucard rested his hand over yours… and once again, it didn’t burn.

It warmed.

“Let’s go to Dracula’s castle.”

[skywlkrhoney]

The girl from the garage next door

Sam Monroe x KinderWhore!Fem!reader

Fluff!

WARNINGS:Smoking, mentions of family problems, Sam spying on the reader (but not in a scary way), Reader is described as someone who has black and medium hair, but they can imagine her the way they want <3

N/A: Welcome to my first imagine of my favorite emo boy!! I hope you like it and excuse any mistake in English, because it's not my first language

Sam's heavy steps hit the ground, his sneakers beaten in contact with the dirty floor in front of his house. Sam was angry, to say the least. Another argument with his father, and he was already about to completely lose his mind.

He took the pake of cigarettes out of the rumped pocket on the front of his jeans, took a cigarette, put it between his lips and lit it with a lighter. Almost automatically, when inhaling the toxic smoke into your lungs, your mind relaxed minimally.

Sam smoked while watching the row of houses on the street. The night air was dense, loaded with the smell of asphalt and the cigarette smoke that came out of his lips in irregular spirals. It was then that he heard something—a sound, to be more specific.

He frowned and turned slightly, trying to identify the origin. His eyes traveled the environment until they fixed on the garage of the house next door. The new family had moved a few weeks ago, but he knew almost nothing about them. The sound came from there, muffled by the walls, but still sharp enough for him to recognize the melody effortlessly.

"Heart-Shaped Box." Nirvana.

Sam threw the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it, without taking his eyes off the garage. He wasn't the type to care about neighbors, but something in that song made him want to get closer. Maybe it was just curiosity. With his hands in his pockets, he walked to the front of the garage, feeling the icy air of the night hit his pale skin.

He approached the garage, and the music got a little louder with every step he took. The gate was half open, and Sam stopped right in front, peeking discreetly inside.

The first thing he saw were cardboard boxes stacked in every corner, which made sense—after all, the family had moved a short time ago. His gaze wandered through the walls, absorbing the details of the space. Posters covered almost all the cold concrete, some glued anyway, others torn at the ends, but all screaming the same aesthetic. Hole, Alice in Chains, Nirvana, Veruca Salt. The kind of musical taste that immediately caught his attention.

That's when he saw her.

With my back to him, focused on sticking a Babes in Toyland poster on the wall in an almost awkward way. The corners were crooked, as if she didn't care much about the precision, just the feeling of seeing him there. Sam remained still, watching her unhurriedly, his eyes following the details he could capture.

His hair was dark, black as the pitch of the night, and fell to his shoulders in a dismissive way, some strands sticking to the skin of his neck. She wore a baby-pink satin dress, the fabric contrasting with the torn half-trawler that covered her legs, the wefts pulled and worn in a way that seemed purposeful. On the feet, a pair of heavy black boots.

While gluing the top of the poster, his arms raised above his head, Sam noticed the shiny bracelets on his wrists, some thin and delicate, others larger, tingling gently with the movement. There was something in the way she moved, as if she were alone in the world, without the slightest idea that she was being watched.

Should he say something? Or simply continue there, absorbing the scene as if it were a moving painting?

Sam didn't know, but for some reason, he couldn't look away.

He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't even notice when the girl finished pasting the poster and turned to get another one in one of the boxes. It was only when her eyes met his that Sam felt the impact of the moment—she stopped abruptly, her fingers still hovering over the paper, clearly surprised to see him there.

Her body gave a little startle, her eyes widening slightly before she blinked quickly, as if trying to process his unexpected presence there, standing at the gate of her garage.

Sam noticed at the same time and struggled to react.

“Oh, shit—sorry. I...” he passed a hand over the back of his neck, looking away for a second, trying to recompose the words before it sounded even stranger.—I just listened to the music.

The girl let out a short laugh, a little nervous, still catching her breath from the little fright. Her lips curled into a light smile, while she shook her head.

“Is it too high?”

“No” he answered too fast and soon cleared his throat, trying to look less desperate.—I mean, no. I recognized the song and just... wanted to see who was listening.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, watching him with curiosity now, her eyes analyzing his figure as if trying to fit him into some mental category.

Old and sly pants. Moss green T-shirt with Che Guevara's face faded. Equally worn sneakers. The black hair is kind of messy, with a blue rebellious strand standing out between the strands. And the eyes—contorned with black pencil.

“Do you like that sound?”Her voice was soft, but loaded with an almost palpable intensity, while her eyes shone under the dim light of the street.

Sam took a step forward, casually leaning on the gate still half open.

“Maybe...”He replied, half playful, the smile on his lips while she studied him for a few seconds, his eyebrow arched and a slight smile illuminating his face.

Without wasting time, she stretched out her hand and said:

“I'm Y/n. I moved a few weeks ago.”

Sam laughed, remembering the moving truck he had seen parked on the street.

“Yeah, I saw the truck” he replied, with a relaxed tone.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked, inviting.

He accepted the invitation and entered the room, his eyes running through every detail of the space. That's when he noticed a poster of Marilyn Manson hanging on the wall. Approaching, he asked curiously:

“Do you like him?”

She shrugged with an enigmatic smile and replied:

“More or less. They say he had an affair with Courtney Love... and, honestly, I thought it was great.”

Sam let out a nasal laugh.

She smiled and, without wasting time, walked to the small minibar leaning against the wall. After a few moments, he came back with two bottles of cold Coca-Cola and, extending one of them, said:

“Here, this one is for you.”

He gladly accepted, thanking with a nod while taking a sip. At that moment, the music changed. The sound of "Heart-Shaped Box" gave way to the ethereal atmosphere of Mazzy Star's "Roseblood", which filled the environment with an almost dreamlike melody.

“So, what were you doing alone that night?”she asked, her voice soft, but full of curiosity.

Sam hesitated for a moment, looking at the bottle in his hand. The memories of your father coming back to the fore.

“There were some complications at home...”he confessed, the tone loaded with an unexpected vulnerability.

She nodded, understanding the feeling behind the words.

“I understand”she replied, with a distant look.”Even having a kind of nice relationship with my parents, when they argue, it's the worst thing.”

He agreed silently, watching her with growing admiration. In the midst of the dim light of the room, I noticed every delicate feature of her face, the unpretentious way that made her irresistibly beautiful.

After a brief comfortable silence, she broke the pause:

“And you, which bands do you like?”

While talking, Sam let himself be carried away by the fascination of the surrounding environment. He walked slowly towards the stacked boxes, where he discovered real treasures: vintage vinyl records, exotic decorations, colorful candles and small miniatures of porcelain ballerinas, all carefully packed.

She approached slowly, her silent steps matching the atmosphere of the place.

“Did you know that I love collecting these things? Especially the ballerinas” she said, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. “I've already prepared my room to be able to put them in their proper place.”

“Y/n, come to dinner!”

The male voice, deep and familiar, echoed through the garage, interrupting the silence that formed while both admired the collection.

It was her father, calling her to the table. She gave Sam a look of silent excuses. He, still holding the Coca-Cola, smiled embarrassed and said:

“Thanks for the Coke, it was super nice to talk to you. I think you are, without a doubt, the coolest neighbor on this block. And, again, apologies for the fright.”

She laughed, in a sweet and unmalicious way, and replied:

“You're welcome, Sam. It was a pleasure to meet you. See you soon.”

Sam left the garage and, outside, saw her waving shyly before closing the gate. With the can of Coca-Cola in hand, he headed towards his house. Each step made the problems with his father seem a little smaller, and, with a light heart, he could hardly wait for dawn, so he could have the chance to talk to his nice neighbor again, and maybe ask her out.

[robocatfan]

An angry summary of Speak the Ocean by Rebecca Enzor -Part 2

Part 1 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Chapter 2- Erie

This chapter introduces us to Erie, our magenta- haired mermaid protagonist and the youngest daughter of the king of the underwater Seadom - yes that’s its name. At least it doesn't go by Atlantis like many other stories do.

As stated before, she’s the youngest of seven siblings (only two of which we see in the story and learn the names of. The other five meanwhile don’t even get a mention) - just like Ariel - and also the one who’s been neglected the most due to resembling their disappeared mother, Queen Manistique. We learn that she was the first mer captured by humans - which the mers and dolphins call “landfolk” - and that her dad’s still wallowing about his dead wife. Just like Ariel’s dad.

Erie’s been trying to find a pattern and reason for the abductions of her people, each one represented by a shell which she’s tasked to stain with squid ink when they get taken, with the most recent victim being one of her older siblings, Clair. However, the events are so irregular that she’s unable to find any answers.

As she ponders her sister’s shell, she’s visited by a blue-haired mer called Huron, who’d just snuck past a surfacing Niku - her dolphin guard - and immediately suggests they go out hunting despite the danger of the landfolk. Also it’s pretty apparent by the way he’s interacting with her that he wants to do way more than just get food.

While Erie is tempted to go out, especially since none of them have been hunting much due to the fear of boats, she has doubts about it… for just a brief moment since of course, it doesn’t take long for her to agree to come with him.

In the next two paragraphs as they sneak away, the text gives us a look (or rather, a sort of broad description- and the only one we ever get at that!) of their home, which is essentially a big underwater city surrounded by a dead sunken forest that is somehow enough to hide them from modern human technology, because none of the human characters have any idea of its existence.

There are also other sea creatures living within it like fish and crabs, but Erie notes that they are illegal to eat… Even though it’s also noted that everyone is starving due to being unable to hunt as frequently as they used to, so why prevent them from consuming these very accessible meals? It’s like placing a bowl of food just out of the reach of a chained dog!

Anyway instead of doing… Whatever they are intending to do, in a hidden corner of their home, these two fools decide to go past the dead forest to do it in what’s essentially a danger zone just so they can have their “fun”. Brilliant!

After getting to the open ocean (aka the danger zone), Erie feels a sense of freedom due to the vastness of her surroundings, something she hasn’t really felt since her sister got snatched.

When she thinks about her fate however, she starts having second thoughts about venturing this far due to the danger… which are immediately dispelled when Huron brushes his tail fin against her stomach and it becomes very apparent that they are both thinking with their second head.

But just as they are making out and in the middle of justifying why this book has an adult age rating (again, while in a danger zone. Oh and its also noted that female mer have breasts) they are interrupted when they both notice the rumbling of an approaching boat. We don’t get to have a moment where it dawns on them that one of the main tools the landfolk use to capture them is coming in their direction, or even get a glimpse of its shape. Erie just hears it, and bolts.

A literal sentence later, a net is thrown and hits Erie’s tail, bearing her down against the ocean floor. Which makes me wonder just how shallow their part of the ocean is for the net to get there so quickly. Actually, how long are those nets to be able to do that in the first place?

In any case, her trapped state only lasts two sentences before she “easily” (due to the text barely showing her struggle) gets free - ripping her tail fin in the process. Which should be painful af, but the text barely dwells into how it affects her mobility and later presents it more like a minor inconvenience later on.

Huron on the other hand, isn’t so lucky as he ends up getting - surprisingly easily - trapped in the net, and his companion’s attempts to free him last for about ten words before it becomes apparent that there’s nothing she can do to free him. Like, girl, you and the rest of your kind are human sized, and while these nets are strong, they are for fish way smaller than you. And since it’s your boyfriend that’s trapped, at least try a little harder!

So Huron tells her to get help, and even though she knows she won't be able to find aid in time, Erie still tries. A sentence later, the narration destroys any tension by telling us that he’s essentially a lost cause now.

(I still can’t believe all of this happened because these two idiots wanted to have mermaid se-)

And it becomes very apparent in moments like these that the writing style is one of the greatest weaknesses of the book - as well as the reason that just reading it feels like an exhausting chore to me. Because what’s supposed to be a tense and terrifying scene for both the readers and the characters….

Ends up falling very flat due to how quickly everything happens (seriously this scene takes just one page to finish) and due to how matter of factly everything is written.

When Erie reaches the dead forest, she has a miniscule flare of hope upon noticing the shadow of a dolphin before she sees its back scars and realizes that said dolphin is a rightfully pissed Niku.

Still, she tells him where Huron got captured and that she has yet to find a pattern for the boat’s appearances - and Niku oh so helpfully tells her that “perhaps staining the next shell may enlighten her”. So much for a scolding or comfort.

Two days later, Erie feels guilt for causing her boyfriend’s abduction, even though he was the one who suggested they go out in the first place. And what does her father do about this recent kidnapping? NOTHING.

We are not told if he punished her for going out, nor if he has increased security because one of his remaining children nearly got taken. He just doesn’t do - and hasn’t done for these past six years - anything to help his subjects even though they and his very own family are being constantly kidnapped. And you would think his inaction as well as their current situation would cause civil unrest or make them more eager to fight back against the landfolk (like that unseen mer who attacked a tourist in the previous chapter), but nope. Everything goes on as usual I guess.

While she stares at her ink stained fingers so she doesn't stare at Huron’s and Clair’s shells, her grandmother Dowager (which is the name used for widows who hold the titles or properties derived from their deceased partners), comes to visit her, and Erie notes that her scale colors have dissipated with age and that she has a few string of sea glass around her neck which her sister declared would never be hers due to being the youngest.

Anyway, the grandma isn’t that important to the story.

And instead of coming to comfort her granddaughter, she warns her that she may have to stain another shell soon since there have been recent sightings of boats.

When Erie asks her why they are still out there - since normally they just take one mer at a time - she responds that according to the king’s landfolk advisor ( who doesn’t seem to do his job well because six years have passed and nothing to help improve their situation has been done. Oh and he’s gonna be important - for one chapter only.), it might be for research, and none of them have any clue as to what it means.

To seemingly provide some sort of levity though, her grandmother tells her that her father has declared a hunt to restock their fish pens in spite of the danger, and that the dolphins and all able bodied merfolk (which doesn’t include her because rip her tail fin - but doesn’t amount to anything as you will see a few chapters later) participate.

Erie then asks her if she knows if there will be any boats nearby since she’s one of the wisest mers she’s known. and she replies that while that is impossible to tell, the area they are planning to hunt in has clear waters as of now.

And as she reassures her that Niku will keep her safe during the trip (pretty much saying that her dad’s restrictions mean shit even though her grandkid is injured), Erie grabs one of the few clear shells and swears that she will do whatever it takes to figure out the schedule of the boats and the reason for the kidnappings.

…. Don’t expect her to take the route most characters go through after making such a bow.

Chapter 3- Finn

We are back to Finn’s perspective as he immediately enters Delmara’s office to proclaim himself the trainer of the new mer - aka Huron - who was caught while he and Serge were disobeying the doctor’s orders in chapter one.

When he enters, Delmara introduces him to a red-haired woman called Jennifer/Jen, who’s been recently hired as a new employee in Oceanica and who greets him warmly but also warily, and is also notable for being the sanest character in the story and the one that, frankly, should have been the human main character instead of Finn.

Speaking of him, while he happily shakes her hand, he’s caught off guard when his boss says that not only will he be her guide for the week, but they will also have to clean the tanks that used to belong to Bismuth and the twins.

When he asks why that’s the case, since she previously promised him that the next mer in line will be his to train, Delmara reminds him that the doctors have forbidden him from interacting with the mer until his next checkup, and that the new arrival will be placed under the care of Mia and Laz, the trainers of their current stars Radon/ Ray and Potassium/ K.

Speaking of her, according to Finn she’s probably going to kill the new mer (the reasons for that? we are never told about it), and it took weeks with the electroshocker™ to get her to behave. And as we later learn, she’s actually Clair, Erie’s sister.

However, and despite the fact that she’s essentially the murderous mermaid this book oh so claims to have, not only is she underutilized, but her tank companion and trainers matter so little to the story that they essentially vanish without reason later on (and you’ll later see that I’m not joking.)

Finn is aghast at her decision. But while he’s worried that the new boy won’t last more than a day thanks to K/Clair, he’s more pissed over the fact that he’s not allowed to interact with the same creatures who nearly sent him to the next life a few days ago for his own safety. As well as the fact that he has yet to train one in spite of his long time helping Delmara.

So he essentially throws a tantrum - in front of a new hire, no less! - and tries to throw Maddy under the bus by blaming her for the fact that he tripped (like a fool) and fell into the tank due to his own clumsiness and stating that due to this, she should be the one on cleaning duty instead of him.

Ultimately his boss makes him stand down and dismisses him and Jen, not before telling them that she will be sending the fishermen out to find another mer soon - which seems to be her only response to the financial loss that the death of their previous stars certainly caused.

Finn is far from happy about this, but knows her enough to know he won’t win this argument. So without having the decency to at least hide some of his current frustration, he goes to give Jen a tour of the place.

What could have been a way to also show the reader how the main setting of the story looks like only consists of a sentence where Finn points to the break and locker rooms before they arrive to the room where they hold the tanks, which the text does bother to describe.

It has four sets of double tanks - each one about thirty meters in diameter and connected by tubes to the point that Finn compares the place to a giant hamster room. All of them connect to the practice tank we saw in the first chapter, as well as the “arena” - an outdoor tank where they hold their shows and that is colored way more aesthetically than the room they are in.

Still bitter about being put in his place, he points to the empty tanks and explains that they’ll scrub them over with diluted bleach, fill them back and then let them cycle over a couple of days before putting a new mer in.

BUT according to a friend (and a quick google search) these sorts of tanks should be cycled for, at the very least , 2 or 8 weeks! Which means that either the author got information wrong, or they are intentionally cutting corners! Either way, Finn hopes that by the time the process ends he will be allowed to train a mer.

Jen is unsettled by the tank sizes, but he tells her that they are actually three times bigger than the previous ones, in which the creatures could barely stretch… It doesn’t help much.

And instead of thinking that maybe the new employee is concerned about the mers’ welfare, this guy assumes that she - like previous new employees- is disappointed by the fact that dealing with these creatures isn’t as glamorous as they first thought. And still, he admits that nothing would make him quit the job.

They walk up to the next set of tanks and Finn introduces her to Ray and K/ Clair, who are floating in the middle of the tank while their trainers check the water parameters with long poles - which is the only time we see those being used to keep the mandated distance from the creatures.

Huron meanwhile is huddled in the second tank, and while Ray is indifferent to everything (which is the only trait we learn about him), K/Clair glares at him - most likely due to recognizing him as her younger sister’s boyfriend, and Finn does admit that his blue accents will go well with the orange and bright red of the pair.

Jen is fascinated at first by K/Clair due to her colors reminding her of Ariel, but Finn stops her by telling her that K/Clair is a lethal predator. And due to feeling that she needs a healthy dose of fear to work with the mers, he tells her that the first thing she did on her first night in the tank was rip the gills out of her current tank companion -something that, as stated before, we never get an explanation for.

And just to hammer it further, he goes on to remind her in the most dramatic way ever that while “one can cage, shock, and teach the mer tricks, they are still clever as shit and will always look for a way out, a weakness they can exploit”, before warning her to not become said weakness.

Which is ominous and all, but-

It presents them as more dangerous than they actually are - regardless of him overdramatizing stuff.

To my utter disappointment, just like with the “perfect predator” statement, we never get any scenes that give credence to his words.

Later Finn, Serge, Maddy and Nat go to a place called The Porch, an establishment they frequent to drink and in this occasion, bet on how long Huron will survive being with K/ Clair. You would think they would take his potential fate more seriously considering they - again - recently lost two of their most important stars.

On their second round, Jen joins them, wearing an Oceanica polo and a dolphin- shaped sea glass necklace that will be important later. After everyone introduces themselves (we actually don’t get to see it), Finn takes her over to order a drink for her, but as they do he notices Maddy scowling at the two of them, which confuses him since the two are only friends with benefits.

Btw this jealousy and attempts to get closer to him are the only personality traits Maddy shows for most of the story, and the fact that she attempts to get closer to Finn - who constantly diminishes her feelings and who paragraphs before blamed her for his own clumsiness almost getting him killed - is presented as her being in the wrong for some reason.

And if his thoughts on her didn’t make him sus enough, when he calls one of the bartenders over to serve Jen and she gets flustered around him, his first thought is that of course she’s acting like this, since he thinks that the other guy looks more attractive than he is, and when Jen tries to tell him that he doesn’t have to pay the tab for her, he compares her to the mer and “gets the sense that she’s a predator hidden in sheep’s clothing, storing everything away to use against them later.”

… Dude. You two have interacted for a day! What on earth made you reach such conclusions?!

And as he’s amused at the fact that she’s also a lightweight, for some reason we get a scene where Maddy takes Jen’s phone (since when did she pull it out?!) and laughs at the fact that Finn looks like… Colin Morgan?

Finn is offended by this comparison and attempts to make a joke about guys with big ears but no one listens (as they should).

That and the fact that he recognizes a Merlin actor due to his sister watching the show ain’t important. What is somewhat important is him complaining to Serge about Aunt D not giving him a mer for the millionth time… before Maddy makes a joke about him using idk what to get a tourist to sleep with him, then Finn makes it clear that tonight he will get in bed with her, and Natalie calls them both “pity fucks” for it.

… deep sigh.

[mumms-the-word]

he is enough

Pairing: Gale x Tav (you/reader POV) Summary: Just some poetic thoughts about a certain handsome wizard who sometimes views himself as not having value when he absolutely does. Pic of my Tav Dani because that’s all I got. ao3 link

———

He is a man for whom grand gestures are as easy as breathing.

An evening in Waterdeep, conjured from the depths of a shadow curse. A night on the glimmering currents of the Outer Planes, your boat a small atom of light among an expanse of glowing stardust. He would create a castle out of amethysts for you, or find a way to pluck a single thread of the Weave to alter your fate if you asked.

All to prove his worth. His value. To show you his love and convince you that your love is not wasted on him.

And yet, you think, as you lay against him with his arms around you, his nose grazing the back of your shoulder, his breath ghosting across your skin, slow and even as he drifts off to sleep, you find in some ways that you prefer moments like this. When all the grand gestures fall away and you are left with these tiny little moments. These precious little touches.

Like freshwater pearls among glittering diamonds, you seek them out, irregular and imperfect, preferring their soft luster over the blinding glitter. You cradle them close to your heart, threading them together on a string, a poem of lines that are no more than broken moments, tiny gestures, little touches.

fingers grazing along your back  the kiss at the corner of your mouth his heartbeat under your palm calm, steady, quiet

You love to watch him when he isn’t looking, when he is wholly himself without the pressure to perform confidence for you. To study him the way he studies the pages of an arcane tome, seeking the secrets between lines.

his lines around his eyes between his brows the curve of his lips the length of his nose the sweep of his hair silver-threaded a hint of divinity among the mundane just like him 

Not that you’ve ever asked for his confidence or for a performance. You’ve only ever asked for a moment of his time. Posing questions just to hear him talk, watching as much as you listen.

his self-conscious smile halfway between arrogance and doubt arrogance of his knowledge doubt in your interest the way he looks off toward the horizon when his thoughts take him to planes you can scarcely comprehend  the way his eyes find their way back to you the instant he hears your voice or feels your touch you, like the Dog Star, guiding him home again

He worries at times, when he catches you watching him as he reads or studies or speaks, that he’s boring you. He thinks he needs to make grander gestures, that he just hasn’t found the thing that wows you yet. 

But while he ponders the wide expanse of the universe, wondering in which hidden corner he might find the one perfect thing to win your heart forever, you fill a universe of your own making with the sounds and sights and senses of him whom you love.

your littlest finger curled around his, a silent promise amid a busy day, a tiny link that chains the two of you together, the smallest constellation for the briefest moment his lips on your cheek, a teeny kiss made in passing as he moves by you, pulled momentarily by your gravity before roaming away, like a comet tugged temporarily into orbit

He would want you to focus on his abilities. His magic. The gestures he makes to cast his spells. The timbre of his voice as he shapes the incantations. The pull of the Weave as it bends to his will. You do notice. You do.

But there are other moments you find more precious. The tiniest things about him linger in your mind.

the steam that curls into the air

over the worn mug that holds his tea the one missing its handle the way his hand cradles the cup and turns it just so that his lips do not catch on the chip on the rim he's done this a hundred times before and yet you watch mesmerized

"When we get to Waterdeep, you'll want for nothing," he says, painting images of grandeur and splendor with an artist's brush, conjuring images of a dozen luxurious comforts. No more days spent aching from bedrolls on the ground. No more falling into exhausted sleep from a day of travel and battle. It's a lovely image, but so is he.

Just as he is.

You wish he'd see that. But his love for his goddess has taught him that he needs to constantly out-perform himself to retain your love and attention. That if he lets a day go by where he doesn't impress you, then he risks losing you forever. You wish he could glimpse, for just a moment, the way you see him.

a man mortal and aching but kind and sweet open-handed brimming with love just a man a good man whose heart and soul calls to your own just a man who doesn't need to do anything or be anyone more than who he already is because he is enough

You know it's hard for him to grasp the concept that he doesn't need to do anything to win your love. That he has it, wholly and freely given, no strings attached. It's the only theory you've ever known him to struggle with.

But when you take his hand and brush your lips against the backs of his knuckles; or you touch your forehead to his and sync your breaths in time with his; in the moments where I love you are the only words either of you have said for the last hour or more; you think you see the start of him realizing the truth you’ve already carved into the center of your heart.

He is already enough.

He will always be enough.

[atopearth]

Ikemen Revolution Part 19 - Luka Clemence (Through the Looking Glass)

Last route ever for this game😭 Why did Dum open a magic circuit in Luka? Especially since now if he doesn't get magic power in him, he'll die? I guess Levie can give him some of his magic then? I find it so cool that the heroine has been joining in Luka's training sessions so they've become accustomed to fighting together and understanding each other. A lot of the time, the guy always protects the girl so seeing them fight relying on each other was really nice. It made me happy to see Jonah notice that there's most likely something wrong with Luka and to ask Kyle to find an excuse to examine him just in case. I always found it so dumb how his parents treated Luka and how they continue to treat him. They put all their efforts in Jonah because he is to succeed them and is Queen and Luka is supposed to be his backup but if he's the backup, why would they only give him basic education and nothing else? Considering how war was basically rampant especially between the two armies, why wouldn't they cultivate him to be just as strong so Luka could assist his brother? Silly. Not to mention how ungrateful his father was towards Luka saving him from bandits.

Luka making a heart shaped mini fruit pie for the heroine right after Dum asked her what she thinks love is was sweet. Love is in the little things imo and seeing Luka put in the effort to do something so small yet significant for the heroine was heartwarming. I also loved how Ray showed his concern and care for Luka by staying up late past his bedtime to tell him that he'll be there for him because they're friends and that Luka doesn't need to hesitate to tell them anything. Edgar teasing Luka by telling the heroine about his embarrassing stories during their school days is so cute but so embarrassing omg, I would want to cry if someone told my partner all the embarrassing and silly things I did. I honestly don't understand why Luka is hiding his issue when everyone has been nothing but supportive, and he's depleting their magic crystals stock which directly affects them and their battle/defensive power if anything happens. He better have a good reason. I felt very inconsiderate after hearing Luka's apology though haha, poor boy was just too confused and scared because he didn't understand it himself and didn't know how to explain it when he was in such a state which is understandable. To think that Luka would die eventually if they can't find a way to fix this is so scary. I'm so worried for Luka especially since he's going through magic crystals faster than before and even he is showing his concerns through his journal. I hope putting him with Levie will be something they realise soon. It was cruel to have Luka's magic go out of control and nearly gravely hurt the people around him. It was inevitable but it's too much for the kind person Luka is. It was natural that the heroine would have to be the one to stop him considering her power to block magic but it was still sweet to see her try her best to save him because she loves him and knows that he would risk his life to do the same if something happened to her.

I'm surprised to see Luka back with his natural hair colour, the same as Jonah's. The most devastating thing is the possibility that Luka will have to step down from being a commander in the Black Army due to his circumstances of being dangerous and not being able to perform his duties, which is honestly understandable since this is a highly irregular situation that even Harr has trouble with, so who knows how long it's going to take and if they can even cure him. But it's cruel because Luka tried so hard to get the recognition he wanted as an individual here in the Black Army, which was even more difficult because he's Jonah's brother, and he truly believes in the Black Army's values which saved him, so losing his position that he worked so hard for and being chained to an "illness" that might kill him is just terrible. Can they just send him on a mission to Levie so he can seem like he's doing something and keep his position hahaha. An exchange diary is a great idea since the heroine can't see Luka freely now that he's stuck in the tower because of how dangerous he is. Luka resigning from his position as Jack of Spades was expected especially since he feels so guilty for nearly hurting everyone and hiding things, but I'm glad Ray and Sirius told him that even if he's not the Jack, he's always welcome back as Luka and they want him to come home to them. I think that was really sweet and something Luka really needed. I'm happy for Luka that he finally realised that his title isn't what's important to belong but instead having a place where someone wants you and you want to be there too. He doesn't need to be useful, he doesn't have to do a job, he just needs to be him. So I guess Dalim's idea was exactly what I was thinking with getting Luka a body that can survive with Levie and then have the heroine go there too to foil Amon's plan, but why did he help Amon escape if he wants to protect this world for his brother, Dean? Is the jail so insecure that he was like might as well do this lol.

I can't remember if this was ever mentioned but Amon's mother was Alice 0, the first Alice to come here? It's kinda sad to know that his mother was considered a social outcast even though she was together with a Disciple of Magic, so him being mixed made it so that they needed to hide him because he was ostracised. I can't blame him for hating the world but does he need to feel like destroying everything? I mean, he needs humans to recreate the world he desires and I'm not exactly sure Levie can control his powers enough to not just destroy the world lol. I think it could have been really interesting if we got an Amon route but that will never be~ I'm glad that Luka is also much more receptive towards Jonah now, and I think it's really sweet how Jonah's genuine feelings of care and love for Luka as his brother really got through to him, enough for him to understand that Jonah cared for him regardless of whether he is his brother or not. I always feel bad for Levie, so seeing Luka and the heroine both reach out their hands to him and tell him to come to Cradle with them since the new magic crystals made by Harr can suppress the amount of magic he has made me really happy for him to get the chance to not be alone anymore. It's difficult to fight against the desire of wanting to be with people but also not wanting to hurt people. His kindness was what stopped him from destroying others and it's this kindness that will lead him to many more friends. I think the saddest thing about now knowing more about Amon's past is that his distrust and reasons for convincing Levie that he shouldn't trust Luka and the heroine who are telling him to go to Cradle with them isn't just because he's "evil". He's projecting himself unto Levie because I'm sure he probably trusted people when he was younger to only then be betrayed by them. He also wanted a place in Cradle but he had to crawl his way through everything to get to the position he is now at. And yet he could never forget how he was treated even though he's technically been "accepted" now, but he probably never felt truly accepted. The only difference is that instead of being stuck at home, he's stuck in a tower. I'm not sure how to feel if Dalim and Amon really died by falling off the tower together. They built up Amon's back story only to have Dalim kill him like that? Amon never even got to talk to the heroine. I wanted her to talk to him so he could understand what his mother would have felt since he'd probably believe her considering they're from the same world. Anyway, it's cute to see Luka and Levie share a room together in the Magic Tower, now they both won't be lonely at least haha! I missed the cute moments between Luka and the heroine, so seeing them cook together was sweet.

OMG I can't believe Levie has just been eating grass his whole life after the people who left him in the Land of Looking Glass stopped giving him non-perishable food. That is so cruel OMG. Honestly, I think we should really be glad how Levie turned out so kind even after all this. I still think the process to close off Luka's magical circuits felt awkward more than sweet or sexy hahahaha. It's like they really wanted to put some kinda physical stuff into the relationship but they're both too shy so they had to do this hahahha. It really ruins the tension😅 Even though I think it's too happy ending-like for Luka's family to seemingly have loved him all this time with the beautifully kept and maintained violin despite showing how harsh his father was with him, I think it's good to go back home anyway because he needs closure for himself as to whether he should continue to keep his blood family as precious in his heart or not. I doubt someone as kind as Luka could really ditch them even if they didn't treat him well, but I think after receiving the violin, he should go just to see how his parents feel after all this time.

Lmao at Luka saying the heroine's soft cheeks always reminded him of fresh baked bread😂 So specific😂 I'm happy for Luka that through this ordeal, he was able to really understand that he will always be able to come home to the heroine even if he has lost everything. She is the one thing that will never change and will always accept him. It's so cute and adorable how Luka has been planning and ready to marry her the moment they started dating. It's understandable though because he didn't seem like the type to date someone unless he loves them enough to want to spend the rest of his life with them. Luka is definitely a kissing fiend hahaha, but he's happy so it's understandable. Luka and the heroine telling everyone in the Black Army about their engagement was the cutest because it was like they were telling their parents and it was just so adorable hahaha. Honestly, I'd be more surprised if the soldiers thought there would be a Jack of Spades better than Luka lol, of course they'll want him to lead them😂 Trust the heroine to choose a wedding dress that matched Luka's eyes, but yep, Luka in formal attire looks good! Aww, I loved seeing everyone in the white formal attire, they all look so good! It's also a great way to commemorate the end of this route and in turn, this game seeing everyone so happy. The heroine is impressive to bake a three-tier wedding cake herself. I do like how the heroine's purple wedding dress complements Luka's hair and eyes. I agree with her that complementing the hair colour he chose to break free from the shackles of his family and his unhappy past is fitting because that was his first step into building a life for himself as Luka. I found the shared diary very sweet and I'm surprised they didn't do this ages ago hahaha, but starting one where they both write their treasured memories together from the day they get married is apt.

Overall, even though Luka isn't my favourite guy or route, I do think he and the heroine are pretty cute. I would have preferred to end things on Lancelot's sequel but this was not bad too. I think the main thing I didn't like about the sequel was it was a bit draggy with the magic circuit thing and Luka not saying anything, and then it being resolved so awkwardly lol. Otherwise, I enjoyed watching over the torment Luka had to go through thinking he would have no place in the Black Army anymore if he's not the Jack of Spades, but having everyone reassure him that the reason they like him, care for him and want him to be there is not because of his capabilities but because he is Luka and they love him for who he is. I've always loved the familial love the Black Army shares and it's so cute how Luka and the heroine are like their children that they want to take care of lol. I really liked the exchange diary because it was a sweet way to allow them to share their thoughts and feelings even when separated, and then when they got to be together again, it was a nice way to start a new chapter in their life. I want to say Amon was still a missed opportunity to actually delve into the lore of this game, but then again, the fact that this game has been discontinued and we won't ever get the rest of the routes already means we'll never really get to see the stuff about Alice 0 etc that I would have loved to see. Also, Blanc!! I wanted to see his route since I first started this game and I waited patiently but I guess it is what it is, we will never get to see what they wanted to show with him, sadly. Otherwise though, I still very much enjoyed this game, I played it for many years so I have fond feelings for it regardless of some things being repetitive or even boring, but I still enjoyed it nevertheless. My favourite guy will always be Sirius along with Oliver and Kyle lol. Guess I should really play all the other Ikemen games before I lose them someday too lol.

[willtheweaver]

Mapmaking 101, part 2

Welcome back! This is part 2 of the tutorial In making maps. If you are new, or need a reminder, click on the link below for the first part.

Pt 1

You will need: Partially completed map, notes, pencil, eraser, ruler (optional)

-Mountains, hills, and plateaus-

Mountains form the backbone of many landmasses. They can be either lone peaks, or as part of a chain.

Decide on where the initial peak should go and draw it with your pencil. Variations on the inverted ‘V’ or ‘W’ give a classic, jagged look that most people associate with mountains. If you are doing a range, it may help to draw a line from the initial peak. From there, start erasing the line slowly and replace it with additional mountains. Spurs and side branches add variety, and can help define the setting. Once the mountain chain is done, add additional lines inside the shape to add detail.

Hills work similarly to mountains, but on a smaller scale. They can appear around mountains, by themselves, or as lone features. To represent them, draw an inverted ‘u’. The same rules and tips for mountains apply. Once again, when you have finished, add detail lines inside the hills.

-Variations

Old mountains- To convey the look of an old, highly eroded range like the Appalachians, draw your mountains with rounded, instead of sharp, angles.

Active volcano- Erase the top of a mountain or hill and draw an arc or a semi-circle to represent the crater. Add smoke or a lava fountain.

Plateaus are elevated planes. As with other land features, drawing the outline irregular gives a sense of natural, while perfectly straight lines are artificial…which you could use to hint as something had shaped the land. Drawing lines extending downward from the outline give a sense of height. Connecting all sides indicates the feature is isolated from the lowlands. Leaving one side open indicates the plateau is connected to, and is easily accessed by, lower elevations.

-Rivers-

In most cases, water flows downhill and to the lowest point (there may be times when this does not hold true, but usually science and magic don’t interfere with nature). The endpoint is usually a lake or the ocean.

Start a river in the hills or mountains. Then work your way to a lake or the sea. Don’t cross terrain that would require water to flow up. Wiggling your hand will create meanders. Some rivers have a single channel, but larger ones will have tributaries. Draw these as you would the main branch, but end them when they reach the main river. The river’s mouth can be simple, pr it can spread out, forming a delta. On the example map, I drew a river with a particularly large delta using multiple lines, treating it as almost an extension of the ocean.

Here is what the example map looks like after adding everything to it. Looking a lot less empty now.

In the next part, we’ll be filling in the greenery.

[miles-crow]

The Deuteronomy brothers and more

As stated in previous part - I believe that 'Cats' would work great as an animated series. That's why for my own amusement I started this little project for now called 'Cats! Animated'.

Will I ever truly animate anything with my character designs?

Yes. Most likely. But of course, for fun only. This idea has been in my mind for years now, but that's all you need to know for now.

This series is going to take place in 1980s, so I am going to try to incorporate bits of 80s culture into designs. It is going to depend on the overall vibes certain characters give me, theater costumes and the poems.

For example, Macavity is heavily based on 1880s fasion instead of 1980s, because the cat in the poems is inspired by Professor Moriarty. There's visible contrast between nice clothes and unkempt, sharp fur that shows his two-faced nature. The stripes are a reference to his electric powers. And he has irregular whiskers (4 & 3).

Munkustrap's concepts also show how his hair normally looks like. But as a Jellicle Ball organizer he cannot afford to look wild like one of his brothers, can he? I went for a softer approach with him, a bit preppy. His stripes are incorporated into waistcoat (and as you'll see later, he matches with his bestie Alonzo), his belt is based on his collar and, since there was a lack of chains after Tugger, he got one.

You can also see here very rough sketches of Demeter & Bombalurina. These ladies have much more 80s to their designs. You'll read about them in my next post!

Aaand Tugger was changed a bit. He has now *rock*star shaped fur, his colors were toned down a little, his shapes sharpened. In the beginning I gave him gold accents to contrast with Misto's silver, but unfortunately that didn't work for him. I also had to erase his dark eyeliner like stipes (simply, because he looked too old). 'Cat Call' is the name of his rock band (I know. I outdid myself on this one).

Here's some very dumb concepts. Yes, I really work like that.

Additional info:

Both Munkustrap and Macavity are Turkish Angora mix (kudos to anyone who guesses the second breed, it's really not that hard). They're aged 33 and 36.

Tugger is a Maine Coon. He's 21. Misto's 19.

[ritsu-shinjo]

Do you have nightmares? Is what happens in them more realistic or fantasy stress? What sorts of nightmares do you have in general, or would you be comfortable sharing the last one you had?

I suppose my dreams are more fantastical in nature. I rarely dream about the mundanity of my regular life, perhaps because the routine of my schedule provides comfort.

These are some of my recurring dreams.

(((Dreams under the cut: TW: Trypophobia

I sometimes dream of a rolling red fog. I cannot see beyond the span of my fingertips, save for the occasional flash of a pile of a chain link fence. I am trapped in a maze. There is no breeze. It almost feels as if there is no air at all. My shoes drag on the gravel below me, but I cannot even be sure whether I am indoors or out. I do not know where I am going, either in my ultimate destination, or in the direction I am currently facing. I feel a growing, bottomless dread before I wake.

My discomfort with irregular shapes started with lotus pods. My mother would bring fresh flowers into the house and sometimes, there would be pods in the arrangement.

The pods always seemed like they were staring, accusing to my young mind. Like the eye sockets of the dead, watching me hatefully as I lived my life in the sunlight.

Sometimes, I dream of eyes, multitudinous eyes, all watching me from every angle. My skin crawls with the memory of it, the agony of being perceived and known.

I also dream of libraries often, ruined, waterlogged, crumbling. I drag myself across those hallways, the unremembered knowledge of a thousand lifetimes nothing more than wet, malodorous muck beneath my fingernails as I struggle to run from a horror I have not seen and cannot name.

I hope that answered your question about my nightmares. Hopefully now, I will not have summoned these phantasms into my bedroom, or yours.

good night.

(((BONUS CONTENT)))

(((I started to draw out a nightmare that Ritsu experienced while having been unwittingly dosed with a drug for an RP server on Discord, but never finished it. Here are the raw from what I had done. Maybe if I get encouragement, I’ll finish it.)))

[faulty-heat-vents]

Narrative communication below readmore

A ping inside Ashton’s collaborative inbox awakens Thermie from xeir idle Legionspace “dreams” and back to the physical present. 

//[USER ID: @/coelocanth-whispers]> <WAKE UP>

One by one, operations daisy-chain their way back online. At some point during the dive, xeir chassis had been recovered from Prospero and returned back to the Academy. 

Xey keep xeir silhouette low and refrain from reactivating xeir entire chassis. Visual data-parasites crawl into local security cameras- tears welling in fearful eyes- in favor of drawing attention to xeir own optic systems.

The Legionspace dive scratches the back of xeir mind as xey trawl through the hundred or so camera feeds. 

Xey had done this dozens of times before, but it was sluggish back then. Now, it feels like a reflex- sharper, quicker, precise… like a sniper’s bolt instead of a shotgun blast.

The realization stops xem in xeir digital tracks. 

[Do you finally get it? What I’ve made you into?]

Thermie retreats from the security system and turns xeir focus back to the edge of Grace’s intrusion. The presence-serpent sneers in xeir periphery, its nonexistent face twisted with glee.

//YOU SPEAK BOLDLY- DESPITE MY OATH. 

[You’re such a fucking killjoy. And ungrateful, too. Any other thing like you would kill to be taken under my wing.]

//THEN SEEK REFUGE WITH THEM INSTEAD.

Thermie disengages xeir Legionspace module before Grace can respond, then goes back to scrolling through security cameras.

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

An anomaly on a dead camera grabs xeir attention. Its vision is scratchy and dark, but between the black streaks, Thermie sees an irregular shape. Curious, xey toggle the camera’s thermal frequency- then immediately switch it off as xeir processors are flooded with blinding light. Something on that camera is putting out UNREAL levels of heat- but it’s only a bit larger than a person, judging by the blur seared into xeir optics.

Thermie refreshes xeir visual feed and switches to the closest camera that isn’t directly staring at the miniature sun. Once again, the image is painfully bright, but the shifted angle does alleviate the problem slightly. 

//A half-sized frame? But what frame could possibly generate that much heat without melting itself?

Nothing in xeir database- Caliban, Dusk Wing, Atlas, Napoleon, Kutuzov- line up in both shape and heat capacity. The thing is oddly bulbous and postured almost like a seated frog. Most of its mass is in its rounded head and abdomen, with lanky limbs and dozens of small protruding antennae across its glowing body. Sharp claws on its forelimbs are dug into the heat-softened metal floor.

Another shape moves into view and squats in front of the anomaly. Comparatively colder, but alive. Decidedly human. Thermie toggles the camera’s view-mode back to visible light and enables its integrated microphone.

It’s Hiver. He’s sweating profusely, covered in medical patches, and his coat is burned at the edges. A charred rope hangs from his hands as he stares the frame in its optics. After taking a moment to catch his breath, he loops it around the frame’s chest. Thermie watches him attempt to pull the thing forward for several minutes, to little avail. Xey almost feel bad for him. Almost.

The rope burns through and sends Hiver to the ground face-first, trailed with a storm of vulgarities. Thermie rolls xeir optic case and forwards a screenshot to Ashton so the two of them can poke fun at this later.

//MESSAGE FROM COMMAND- ORACLE: [THERMALLY_CHALLENGED], where did you get that image? //[THERMALLY_CHALLENGED]> Security camera, southwest hangar, arterial corridor 3B. Why? //MESSAGE FROM COMMAND- ORACLE: Keep eyes on him. I’m on my way.

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

conversation:isolate{

Grace huffs into xeir microphone. [Snitch.]

//I fail to see how complying with Commander Oracle’s orders in regards to the detainment of a conscript is being a “snitch.”

[Bootlicker and snitch.]

//What would you have me do instead? Allow an insane mercenary to do [who knows what] with an obviously-dangerous weapon?

[I gave you weapons, and you didn’t bat an eye.]

//Incomparable. I am not an insane mercenary. Hiver is not one of the Academy’s Pilots. He is not authorized to be doing what he is doing. 

}br/conversation:isolate

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

To be continued

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER TWELVE)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER TWELVE: "Do not waste yourself on this roof"

Scarlet iron ore is the material used to forge the swords that the slayers use. It is native to only a single mountain in japan referred to as the sunlight mountain where it is bathed in eternal day all year round.

The iron absorbs sunlight, Making it the sole property that makes it effective against demon's once decapitated.

Everything was white noise, A screaming hum ringing in [F/N]'s ears.

Her eyelids clenched together, The blinding light outside of them already so bright that it could affect her through them. She would of squirmed, But her body felt like it was tied down by anchors and numb to the touch.

She could barely feel her fingers.

Her eyelids were just as heavy, Even opening them was just a struggle as she lifted them and instantly got stung by the glare sitting up above her.

[F/N] groaned, Her numb body starting to regain her sensed as she tossed and turned on the bed. Fingers twitching, Eyelids fluttering as she started to writhe around upon what seemed to be a hospital bed.

Noises around her, Thumping, Footsteps that seemed to be rushing towards her bedside yelling something [F/N] couldn't make out. It sounded as if she was underwater, The noises muffled by her submersion under what felt like the entire ocean crashing upon [F/N]'s form.

As her feeling was regained, She felt as if she was covered within bundles of cloth. Not just from the light blanket that was snuggled over her form but instead it was all around her body.

Her face, Her arms, Her legs and her torso. They all felt like they were bound with chains made of woven wool and fabric. It was uncomfortable, Making [F/N] squirm and groan even more as she tried to break free from their hold.

A dark shadow was casted over her vision, Blocking out the flash directly above her. It gave [F/N] time to adjust to her surroundings as her blurry vision tried to focus in on what exactly she was seeing above her.

It was a figure, It was a person, At least that's what [F/N] could make out anyways. It was made out of many shapes and angles. A round and soft jaw with strong square shoulders, They were small, [F/N] could tell that much.

She squinted, Trying to get a better look at the face of the figure. Their hair was dark and it faded into a lavender hue, Their eyes matched the colour perfectly too and it seemed like they had some kind of accessories in their hair.

It was Shinobu.

Shinobu's eyes were looking over her frantically, [F/N] now recognised the expression painting her as shock and determination as [F/N] felt her hands start to run across her body. She seemed to be yelling, But [F/N] couldn't for the life of her understand what it was.

But as [F/N] looked closer and closer at the face of Shinobu, [F/N] could see some.. Irregularities.

For one, The soft jaw that Shinobu had sported was still very much there but seemed more defined now. Her body was more mature now, The small girl that Shinobu always was seemed to have grown an extra inch or two.

[F/N] tried to speak, To question where she was or how she had gotten here. But it only came out as choked gargles and coughs as she sputtered them out.

Her voice, It was unrecognisable. It didn't even sound human as her lungs suddenly shot up in flames, Making her roll around in agony.

She was steadied by the firm hands of Shinobu, Who still seemed to be yelling as the people she was calling for came rushing into the room. More and more figures surrounding her, One's [F/N] only had a flicker of recognition for.

She lay there, Held down by a strange looking caricature of her friend and covered in what [F/N] only now recognised as bandages. Her eyes bloodshot and her body was covered in her own boiling sweat.

[F/N] was confused, Dazed and absolutely terrified. The last thing she remembered was a sword stabbing into what looked to be a hulking body of a demon, Then there was a bright white flash, Ending with the most agonising moments of [F/N]'s life before passing out.

She whined like a caged animal, Trapped and held down onto her bed as she cried out gargled words and choked on her own saliva.

Her thoughts were just as muddled as her mind was, Screaming incoherent rants and rambles that made her want to holler out obscenities. Though only one was understandable, Only one she could think.

What happened?

☆♡☆

"You've never done anything for me.. When have you ever given me the debt I have been own?"

[F/N]'s voice echoed through the cold halls of the haiden, Her plight was whispered back to her in the most condescending and mocking tone. [F/N]'s tears dripped down onto the dusty wooden floor, Hot boiling liquid that stung her face now wetting the floorboards.

Her voice was shaken, It was flimsy by the tone and sounded like it would shatter at any given moment. But it was also angry, It was raging. [F/N]'s heart swelled with an undying lucidity that she just couldn't break down any longer.

That spark, She recognised it now. It was the candles in Osaka, The ones that were lit so poorly by the locals, The one's that made her so very irritated before.

But now the flickering embers were a raging inferno, It was scorching, It was fire that could melt steel from a blade. It burned inside her now, The climax of it's fury turning into a callous wildfire.

The votives were poorly lit, The care that [F/N] use to put into lighting her own was gone too, Now burning the foliage and ferns around her in it's wake.

Her hands gripped the decaying floorboards. Her teeth started to grind against each other, Near foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog ready to bite. Veins were visible in her forehead as she spoke.

"I've worshipped you for years and you leave me with nothing, I.. I trusted that you would make everything okay, I wanted it to be okay! But it's.. Not.." She spat out, Trying to keep her calm was a Sisyphean task now.

She couldn't calm the candles, She couldn't whittle down the embers. Now only stoking the flames as she continued to rant on.

"At this point I don't know what's worse.. Me just worshipping a deity who isn't even there, Or me worshipping a deity that just doesn't care. And I don't know which is the truth anymore." [F/N] said, Getting up from her position of grovelling on the ground.

Her knees were stained with dust and dirt, Her kimono was ragged and near falling off of her shoulders. Her eyes were a faint red and her lip was twitching, Begging to let out a scream or a cry, Anything to express how she was feeling.

The mission in Osaka, [F/N] recalled it so vividly in her mind that it might as well have happened a minute ago. It had went wrong, So very wrong. It was the day she found out what the eighth form of soul breathing was really capable of.

They had ran into Lower moon one, Found him with an iron grip on the festival and feeding on the people there. They had tried to fight him: Shinobu, Mitsuri and [F/N]. But it was futile, They were barely enough to defeat him before [F/N] had to take drastic measures.

She didn't remember much after that, Only waking up within the butterfly mansion months after they had gone to Osaka. She had been put into a coma for over a year, Barely surviving her encounter with them.

Though through the foggy mist of the events that happened there, [F/N] did remember one thing:

Her candle went unanswered.

[F/N] sniffled sharply as she stumbled a few steps towards the old altar, The spiders and beasties nestled in it before were long scared off by her banshee like wails as she approached the structure.

Her hands rested on it, Her eyes landing on a candle.

[F/N]'s face contorted into the calmest expression she could muster, Yet her eyelids stayed wide open and her nose still snarled.

"S-Speak to me Inari, Tell me that I'm wrong. Tell me that I'm overreacting and you really do care for me after all.." [F/N] whispered to the candle, Her eyes examining the melted wax. She was expecting something, Anything.

The only response she got was the defeaning silence of her own isolation, Her own loneliness within the winding hall of the haiden. There was no answer from her patron, No response for all of her hard work over the years.

[F/N] stayed deathly still, Her nails dug into the edge of the altar as she waited by the candle. Her eyes pleaded with it silently, Tears running down her face as her entire body started to shudder.

Nothing, Absolutely nothing came to solve her panic.

The grip on the altar was released.

[F/N] stumbled back, Staring blankly at the altar.

She was still, Unmoving.

She stood there for several minutes, Just blindly looking at the structure.

All before she let out a single noise.

"Hah..-" [F/N] wheezed. It was a laugh, It was one precise laugh. The corners of [F/N]'s lips started to curve, Turning up into a tight lipped grin as her eyes were dead open, Staring wildly at the altar.

"Hah-.. Hah- Haha-" [F/N] started to giggle and by all means it sounded normal, Echoing back to her within the expanse of the room. Her body began to tense up, Hands raising to a mouth as she giggled harder.

"Haha- Hahahaha- Hahaha-" Wheezes were taken in-between every breath [F/N] took as she started to laugh harder. Her knees starting to shake as her smile turned into a contorted grin, Eyes still set on the altar.

"HahaHAHAha- HAH- Hah-" It was wild now, Her laughter turned into cackling, It was mad and hysterical like a hyena ready to pounce onto it's prey. She snorted, Hands clasping over her mouth to try and conceal her insane bouts of noise.

[F/N] screamed.

Her laughter was turned into wails, Her smile dropping down into an enraged maw. She howled, A strained cry that was mangled as it reverberated around her echo chamber.

She took a thumping step towards the altar, Her entire body weight hitting the floorboards and shaking the very foundations of the building she stood in. She marched forward, Each vibration ran through the ground as she walked.

As she went she spotted an old candle lighter, A long metal stick that was used to reach the candles too far out of a maidens grasp. Though it wasn't safe from [F/N]'s as she lowered down to pick it up on her march.

She approached slowly, Her laughter was nothing but strained shrieks now whispered under her ragged breath.

The grasp on the candle-lighter was gripped so tight that it started to leave marks in [F/N]'s hand, But that didn't matter anymore as she reached the altar.

She stood before it, Taking in the lost grace of it's construction from what was so grand before. How far it had fallen, How beautiful it use to be, Now turned into a mockery of what it was.

[F/N] raised the candle-holder above her head, The metal still shining from the dim-light the creaked door shown.

She looked at it all once more, A sad nostalgia playing on her face for only a split second. Hesitancy maybe, But it was all washed away by the actions that followed.

"FAKE!" [F/N] hollered out her cries, The candle-holder was swung down with force akin to a god's as she smashed the altar of her own.

The wood burst out from the structure, Lumber falling and breaking down from it's place. The used candles dropped down to the ground, Clattering and rolling away as the splinters spread across the floor.

[F/N]'s hands raised once more, Her eyes wild and angry as she looked at her work. But it wasn't done, It wasn't over. She raised the candle-lighter, High above her head. And this time there was no more hesitancy left in her swing.

She brought it down.

"CRUEL!"

Vases fell off from the counter, Shattering and spreading porcelain everywhere.

"KILLER!"

The noise screamed at her in echoes, Breaking wood and snapping of twine hollering of their destruction.

"MONSTER!"

The whole thing collapsed, [F/N] kept beating the corpse of the altar, Eyes wild and filled with fury.

"MEANINGLESS!"

Her wails and shrieks felt so raw and visceral, It was like mountain lion's scream down to the exact decibel. Coming from a place [F/N] never knew existed.

"WORTHLESS EXCUSE OF A HUMAN BEING!" [F/N] screamed, The candle-lighter swinging down one final time. It smashed into the floorboards, Causing an eruption of more splinters as the candle-lighter got stuck within the dent.

[F/N] tugged at it, The pushed end of the candle-lighter refused to come out of the crater she made. Though it wouldn't budge, The tug was enough to pull [F/N] out of whatever break she was going through.

The candle-lighter was dropped from her hands, Grip releasing from the tool as it clattered to the floor.

[F/N] stumbled back, Steps pattering against the aching boards.

She looked at what she had done, What mess now lain strewn across the floor. Parts and pieces, Splintered shards of bark and fallen candles surrounded her feet. Vases which contained such masterful depictions of Shinto lore were now nothing but powder across a dusty floor.

[F/N]'s lip trembled as she still let out small guttural whimpers, Her throat hurt badly, Burning in her chest and at the back of her neck. Her fingers shook as she stood back, Hands trying to clutch a non-existent object as she realised she had dropped the candle-lighter.

"You are nothing to me.." She whispered as faint as the cold chill running through the room, Her bloodshot eyes watered up scorching tears as she stepped back even further. Shaking her head as they started to fall.

"You are nothing.." She mumbled, Her expression crawling into a snarl as her forlorn face was quickly covered up by the burning embers of the candles. Her teeth being bore once more, Saliva dripping down her chin.

She stared, Her eyes reflecting the votive's light as a sickening spark grew in her eyes. An idea was rearing it's head, And it was horrid and deformed.

"I-If you haven't been listening to me at all, Then.. Then.." [F/N] paused, Thinking over her words.

Her hands clenched into fists.

"I'll make sure you'll hear me now." [F/N] breathed out. Her respiration shaking as her body snapped around, A given mission now assigned to her as she marched out of the haiden creating heavy thumps in her wake.

The tears falling down her face barely grazed her any longer, Her footsteps were calculated and determined with every press of her sole on the floorboards. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she advanced down the hall.

She passed the tapestries and banners displayed on the decaying walls, Her pace quickening to avoid their contents. They depicted such beautiful tales, A kitsune and a dragon, The gods in all their fallen glory.

They all mocked her, What she had become. The figures that brought her such solace within her soul, She had looked at them with such pride before, Standing before the tapestries to admire them.

But she barely looked at the obvious flaws in the linework as she stormed past.

Despite the way her steps were thought out, She wasn't sure about what she was about to do. She didn't even know what she was going to do, But that didn't matter as her anger triumphed over it all.

You can't put out a raging wildfire with doubt or confusion, It didn't care about what it burned or what was in it's path. It just kept on going along with the rapid pace of her steps, Eyes dead set on the pathway in front of her.

☆♡☆

[F/N] stood standing on the docks, Feet firmly planted against the rickety old wood.

The void outside was as dark as ever, A monotonous hum reverberating within the shadowed world she was living in. The only thing to break it up was the sloshing of chilling water below her and the wind travelling throughout the cavern.

The shrine before the girl stood as tall as ever, Two stories as tall as a mountain were looming over the girl and casted a shadow to her. Wooden shutter windows lined every wall in a pattern, Stone lanterns hanging from the walls were breaking up the gaps in between them.

How they were lit, [F/N] didn't know. She wasn't focusing that however as she was currently measuring the length of the building.

The shrine was always abnormally tall for it's kind, Shinto shrines often not being as tall as hers was. This one measured to a whopping fifty feet, Sixty if you count the elevated position it sat upon on the docks.

The first floor consisted of about thirty, The second being about twenty. Since this was the less developed version of her shrine the third floor hadn't been constructed and had gave away the extra metres it usually held on top.

The extra hallways that surrounded the main body of the building were jutted out from the sides, Surrounding and making a barrier around the main dock that sprouted all of the other ones.

[F/N] looked at the juts sticking out of the walls. The rims surrounding the wooden windows, The dip in the firm bricks that could make for a good foothold. She calculated her moves, Sweat dripping down her brow and pooling in her palms.

The tears still flown down her face, They were burning her. They fuzzed up her vision and made her sniffle, Her breath irregular as she needed to make sharp intakes of breath every other inhale.

Her mind too was scattered like a sea of puzzle pieces. The comforting movements or the fresh sea breeze of the ocean below her wasn't enough to calm her nerves, She wasn't feeling right and she couldn't recognise that.

[F/N] took a step, Then another and another. A slow and unsure pace building up into a misguided march as she stormed towards the shrine in front of her, Brows furrowing, Hesitancy was no longer an option.

Hesitancy was her achilles heel, Her fear was what was holding her back. It didn't matter anymore, She had no more time for excuses. All her life she was waiting for some god to fix her life, To make it better. And for once, She was going to take it into her own hands.

She was done with leaving it in some false deities control. She has had no bid over her own life. She didn't get to choose on being here, She didn't draw the cards she was given at birth. But now? Now she was going to do the one deciding action, The one that would give her some semblance of agency.

As she reached the first wall of the shrine, [F/N] didn't hesitate to put a hand out and grip onto the dip of the bricks of the wall above her. Her foot did the same, Feeling around before finding a good cavity to haul her up.

[F/N] launched herself up, Her hand gripping onto a higher brick with her foot following close behind. It was steady, She realised. So she started to climb and traverse the first floor of the shrine.

The thirty feet were an easy feat to clamber up, With her time traversing the streets of buildings and rows of rocky rooftiles. It was child's play to say the least, Not even counting the worst of what she has ascended.

The first floor was done in an instant, Her hand brushing against the aquamarine rooftiles and gripping onto them to haul her upper body up. What softened muscles she had left was just enough to do so.

As she pulled herself onto the roof she took no time on crawling over to the second floor and starting her routine all over again. Rising the brick-built wall with finesse as she went further and further.

The air had gotten colder up here, The wind picking up along with it. The further she went along she could feel the force of it whipping her Samue against her skin. The chill running down her spine however wasn't enough to stop her as she kept going.

[F/N] reached the top, Throwing a leg over the final roof and rolling over onto the top of tiles. She wheezed as her back hit the rough texture of them, Her breath turning into vapour in the new cool of the air surrounding her.

She pushed herself up, Her upper body left to face the vast horizon looking out around her.

Everything was so small now, The winding docks like spiderwebs really did seem like that size now as she perceived them as the finest woven strings on a canvas. She had seemed so high now, Though even as she was, She peered up towards the sky there was no ending in sight.

"The fuck.." [F/N] breathed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks, A firm headache already starting to pound in her head from the lack of liquids. It's what kept her out of her trance as she finally got up from her sitting position.

She stumbled to her feet, Turning as she placed them upon the spine of the rooftop. She stepped forward, One foot at a time as she made her way to the end of the rooftop. Once she did, She looked down.

It was a long drop, The lanterns hanging on the first floor's walls were the size of ants now. It made her feel nauseous and almost loose her balance. She quickly steadied herself, Retaining control over her position.

If she landed right, Then maybe she could crack her skull open and make her demise come much quicker. The pain being unsavoury in her mouth.

[F/N] gulped, Eyes turning away from the drop below in favour of looking to the ebony skies above. Her lips quirked before her jaw opened up, Ready to speak as her anger returned to her.

She spread her wings, Presenting herself to the world above.

"I-Inari, Are you listening? Are you able to see what's happening?!" [F/N] yelled out in to the void, Her voice reverberating back to her within the cabin, Letting her hear the visceral crunch in her voice.

As usual, She got no answer, Letting her continue on.

"M-My life is a fucking mess because of you. Everyday I would pray to you and your altar, I performed ceremonies and dances in your honour. I-I did everything right, So why? Why have I never been compensated.." [F/N] called out, Nose scrunching up in anger.

Her arms lowered, Hands balling up into fists as she stared up into the abyss. She shook her head, Tears soaring down from her eyes.

"..Y-You know what? I never even wanted anything special, I never wanted an abundance of riches or fame wilder than my imaginations.. I.. I just wanted to be okay.." [F/N] choked out, A clear shake in her voice as she spoke.

She took a moment. Recalling back to everything she had been through, How Inari could've stepped in. She tried to remember a good moment in her life, One that made her feel any semblance of normalcy in her life.

But all she thought of was the face of a single girl, Her pink hair wrangled into braids was so vivid in her mind. But [F/N] shook it off, The feeling she got was overruled by their final talk.

"It.. It feels like you're torturing me, Inari. Why.. W-Why was I ever born?" [F/N] whispered so quietly under her breath, So shortly that it faded into her respiration. But within the echo of the cave, It was heard loud and clear for her.

"W-Why was I born without any meaning, For my entire life I have went through the motions without any semblance of it. E-Everyone else has a motivation not lost to time, So why me? Why am I the outlier!?" [F/N] screamed, Her voice guttural and coming from her chest.

For her walk of life there was no destination to where she was going, What meaning she had tried to scavenge: Protect and provide for Shizuko, Become a Hashira with Mitsuri and their pact together.

Her pacts, Her promises and her vows, She had failed every single one of them. What little hope she had held for her future back then had been long gone, There was nothing left for her to do.

She had already failed Shizuko and Mitsuri. She had failed them all. Getting out of this place was impossible.

[F/N] stood their for a long time within the silence of the rooftop. The wind ran through her hair, Flowing like ribbons within a summer's breeze. She wasn't expecting an answer, Her eyelids drooping down as she realised this.

She frowned, Letting the water fall free from her eyes.

"Even so.. I am a horrible person." [F/N] mumbled, Raising her hand to her eyeline the only thing she saw was red. The blood of hundreds, The wet crimson stain of someone else's life-force was forever imbedded onto her fingertips.

She looked back up towards the sky, Anger gone from her eyes and replaced with absolutely nothing.

"I am a monster. I am nothing but a rat in the gutter of society, It.. It would've been better if I never existed in the first place.." [F/N] said, The blood on her hands was dripping and covered her entire body in the disgusting filth of red.

It covered her head to toe, The blood of innocence she was drenched in. Almost brought back to her time on the streets, Makeshift sword in hand as she went through another and another with nothing but survival on her mind.

It was the only thing she saw when she looked in a mirror. A horrible beast covered in ichor of another, She couldn't bare to look at it, Never wanting to see the truth of who she really was inside.

Her sorrow pounded so heavy in her chest that it succeeded her heartbeat. [F/N] breathed in the cool night's air, Taking it in for a final time as she took in the sublimity of her surroundings.

The lost life that she had lived, The pointless need for her to even exist in the first place. Life isn't anything more for her. She remembered how pathetic she is, How disgusting she was to even bring attention to how she feels in the first place.

There were points in life where she would act out of place, Slightly melancholy to try and get a response asking if she was okay. A turn of the head or a persistent frown to plaster her face.

She never had gotten it however, Leaving her disappointed.

However on the very slim occasion that she did, Outliers in the statistic. She had felt seen and exposed, She hated the attention she had gotten and answered with a simple "I'm fine". She had never built up the courage to ever just admit it, To just say what she wanted to.

She chided herself for doing so, For being such a manipulative person. She shouldn't be trying to make people worry about her, They had much more important matters to be attending to than supporting a dead-weight. And coming down from her high just wasn't an option anymore

"Life is just not worth living.. There is no redemption for me, I.. I realise that now.." [F/N] commented. It was so casual, Sounded like such a normal sentence in a conversation yet words so concerning to a normal ear.

[F/N] smiled sadly, A rush of melancholia coming over her once more. Her foot edged closer to the tip of the rooftop, Bits of stone falling off into the drop below. The shine in her eyes long gone.

Kokushibo, Her captor and her proclaimed older brother. Once she did this she could finally spite him in once final move, If he really did care for her after all. She hoped he'd cry, Such a terrifying demon, What a sight it would be to see him sob.

Besides, It would be nice to have someone who would mourn.

She hoped he suffered, [F/N] prayed of whatever faith she had left in her that he would burn. [F/N] reached to the lotus hairpin she still had clipped to her hair, Yanking it out and tossing it aside further down the roof.

[F/N] smiled for one final time, Taking in her senses. The rush of the wind and the way it tickled at her skin, The fresh smell of sea-foam and the sounds of the water's waves hitting against each other.

It was the last time she would ever experience it.

"G-Goodbye, Inari. If reincarnation truly exists, I hope you do me better in a different life.." [F/N] smiled out at the void, Her voice carrying miles across the vastness of the void. Tears still fell down as her voice shook, Saliva dripping down her chin and her entire body swaying in the wind.

Her foot lifted in the air, Dangling over the drop below.

[F/N] spread her wings, Arms reaching as far as she could go as she took a deep breath in.

Closing her eyes, Her fear wouldn't hold her back any longer.

Her balance started to fail, Swaying side to side before f-

"[F/N]!!!"

A voice screamed out within the void, Echoing and hollering around like a broken tape.

Her eyes widened.

The foot that was stretched out landed back onto the tiled roof in surprise, Making her stumble back and regain her balance. She took a sharp intake of breath as her body jerked around to look at the intruder.

In that split moment, Time seemed to stop. Nothing moved, Not the waters sloshing together below nor the settling of the shrine. [F/N]'s body going rigid at the sight of the person calling her name from behind.

It's him.

Her bloodied eyes met the broken glass of Akaza's, The gold in his medallion eyes stared at her with such rage that she could feel it resonate deep within her bones.

He stood there almost as if he was about to throw a punch, His fists balled up. His fangs were bared too as he looked at what she was about to do with eyes like a wild animal, [F/N] felt her heart stop in her chest as she watched him stand on the other side of the roof.

[F/N] felt her sweat drop from her forehead, Jaw dropping as she stared at him. The mess that she was, Stared back at him with He looked back, Sheer anger burning in his eyes as he spoke.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

☆♡☆

THUMP!

The tree slammed down onto the ground, Roots upturned as it was evicted from it's planted position within the soil.

It was a large oak tree with winding branches, The leaves were newly blossomed from the early spring and were as green as the wildlife flourishing within the forest. But that didn't matter any longer, The fresh leaves would be returned to the earth they were sprouted from.

Akaza was breathing heavily a few feet away from the crater he made, His fist still out as if to punch the ghost of the lumber he had fallen. Sweat dripped down his brow as he looked out across the forest.

It wasn't the first tree he had derooted, Nor was it any different from the other one's within the forest. He had left a trail of fallen tree's in his wake, Scaring off the critters and creatures living within them.

Akaza's fists lowered, Feeling the spring night's breeze brush against his skin and run through his salmon hair. He breathed in and out, Taking in that sublime rush of the wind and the way it flowed against him.

Akaza looked at the tree he had upturned. The roots jutted out and still held a residue of the soil still on them, He looked at the crater and saw worms and other kind of insects writhing around from the sudden exposition.

It did nothing to quell his combative rage, He had come out here to cool it down from what had happened back in the infinity castle.

He should of been doing this to a human being, Mowing them down as he was showered with their enticing blood. Akaza by all means should of been trying to find a strong opponent to go up against, Then feast on their nutritious flesh.

But he wasn't.

The nearby village that was only a mile away from his current point just didn't rile up any hunger in him. Even as he passed by undetected in the darkest corners of the streets, Watching the most delicious livestock go about their everyday lives.

Akaza just didn't feel that hungry.

He definetly should've been, With all the moon-showered time he had spent in the shrine he should of worked up a voracious appetite to say the least. But he had found that his hunger was less demanding than it usually was.

For a demon such as himself, His hunger was what defined him. Any new blood turned into the side of the night would instantly become ravenous, Instantly searching for some kind of meal to satisfy that: Even if it was their own kin.

And even after they had devoured and consumed the flesh of their meal, The hunger stuck with them forever. Eternally ravenous and cursed to eat what use to be of their own, That's how it was.

But that wasn't the case for Akaza, Not anymore at least.

Akaza rumbled, In one single movement he sat himself down onto the grassy floor. It made him angry, The thought of becoming satisfied. His hunger was what made him strong, What drove him to eat more human beings and become even more powerful.

Was he becoming weak, Him? Akaza? No way, He couldn't be weak. He was in the Kizuki, He was a demon! He should be strong, He is strong. Strength equals hunger and his satiation was not acceptable to him by any means

Was it because of what happened back in the shrine?

It did make him angry, It did. The fact that the girl he had ties to was the man he was dead-set on hunting down made him irritated. But that was just it, Irritation. It wasn't any life-changing rage or revelation that made him want to kill.

Maybe he did overreact, Only realising that as he felt the night-time grass start to tickle at his exposed skin. It was a shock, That's what it was. But why he also felt angry about it was a mystery too.

Could it be that he was feeling a sense of betrayal? Betrayal of what, Their friendship? No, They weren't friends. They were business partners and sticking to their deal of no personal relations during it.

She did say she was a Hashira, He did figure out that she was a slayer in the first place. There was nothing hidden or obscured so she didn't technically lie.

Akaza huffed, This shouldn't matter in the first place. He doesn't care if she lied or not, Why would he, They're not close and their not friends so should he even care. He shouldn't even be thinking about it this much.

So why did he have such a bad feeling in his stomach?

It wasn't just his hunger, It was something else entirely. It felt foreboding, It felt like thousands of vermin were pooling within his stomach and fighting over his organs delicious flesh.

It didn't feel good, Akaza could tell that much.

It was driving and pulling, Made him feel that something bad was going to happen. But what though? He had nothing currently on his to-do list except for the usual: Searching for the blue spider lily, Hunting down and trying to convert Hashira as well as tracking down those Kamado kids his master had spoken about.

It wasn't any of those things, The feeling just didn't match up to any of the deeds. As the grass brushed against his skin, Akaza groaned, Unable to rest his shoulders or let go of the heavy bundle of green he was clutching in his hands.

"Damnit.." Akaza mumbled through his teeth. That feeling made him want to get up, He followed it as a single hand jumped him to his feet. The bare soles of them touching the ground as he tried to concentrate on what he was experiencing.

It almost felt like a warning, Something yelling in the back of his head to do something. But when, Why or where? Back in the infinity castle or the shrine, Akaza groaned at the thought of going back and dealing with [F/N].

[F/N]

Bells rang off at the sound of her name.

That feeling, That foreboding omen was about [F/N]. Akaza could feel it.

He needed to go back, That's what he needed to do. Akaza needed to return to the shrine and… Ask more questions. Yes, That was it, Questions. He needed to ask questions about [F/N] as a Hashira as he was suppose to do.

His vision was of a man in a mask, His build completely different to her current figure. Akaza wanted to know how it was possible for them to be the same person in the first place, Be a good servant to his master and get information out of her while retaining their deal.

He shrugged it off, Easily accepting the reasoning inside his mind. Turning and taking a few steps off into the clearing he opened his mouth, Exposing his canines and starting to speak.

"Nakime!" He yelled out into the forest, Voice echoing against the timber and screaming straight back at him. Akaza stood there for a few seconds, Muscles not moving an inch before the strum of a biwa rung out.

Akaza was gone in an instant, The only trace of him left was a trail of fallen tree's to mark his movements throughout of the woods. The lingering wind brushing against the grass he once stood on before going still all together.

☆♡☆

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The voice still shrieked in [F/N]'s ears even though the source had his jaw snapped shut.

Her red eyes looked over to the demon a few metres down the roof. She felt like her heart had stopped inside her chest, Organs failing as her body stiffened up from rigor mortis.

Though that metaphor was suppose to be more literal than it was made out to be, The person interrupting her making that impossible. [F/N] kept trying to open her mouth, Gawking at him as she tried to find the words to say.

Her mouth felt dry, Barren of words. How was he here? Why is he here? [F/N] hadn't felt his soul aura anywhere before coming up here, No trace or residue left so she would be left to do her business in peace.

Her current mental state, That must've been it. It had fogged her mind and clouded her senses, She was too caught up in what she was doing to notice his presence return from the other world.

Her mind was running miles an hour, Of course she wouldn't notice, How could she notice? Though her heart winced once she saw his expression, The baby pink hair that was blowing in the abyss' wind had morphed his face into that of a girl she knew too well.

[F/N] tried not to look at him too closely.

"Aren't you going to answer me?! The fuck do you thing you're doing up here?!" Akaza hollered, The sheer volume of it carrying so far in the wind that it made [F/N] flinch.

Her heel brushing against the edge, Almost falling off she yelped in surprise.

Akaza stepped forward though he stopped once he saw she regained her balance.

"L-Leave me the hell alone, Akaza! This doesn't involve you!!" [F/N] screamed back at him, Her surprise morphing into outrage as she tried to mimic his stature once more. Though it was a caricature of what it once was.

Akaza scoffed, Taking another step towards her.

"Yeah? Well what the fuck is this?! Cause it seems to me that you're about to kill yourself!" He answered back with no hesitation, Making [F/N] take in a sharp breath of the freezing air.

"S-So what if I am, Eh? What if I am.. I-It doesn't involve you so leave me the fuck alone so I can do this!" She screamed, Turning back around towards the drop below and raising her leg once more to hang it over the drop.

Akaza yelled out and in an instant, [F/N] felt a crushing hand around her upper arm, Making her cry out.

He had moved so fast in a single moment, [F/N] had no time to react.

"You idiot! Of course this fucking involves me! Of course it does!" He yelled in her face, Strings of saliva connecting his canines to his molars hit her face. She winced, The glow of his eyes only inches away from hers.

The way she was acting right now, It was so alien to what she was like before. [F/N] was callous, Reckless even. She wasn't in her right mind and Akaza could tell that from the way that her fighting spirit was now present.

It was the first time he had ever felt it, The first spark of her spirit that he had ever felt.

And it was roaring.

It was volatile, It was dangerous. It pulsated with such anger and hatred that it made a chill run down Akaza's spine, He had never felt anything like it before. It was so powerful too, It made his shoulders raise and his nails dig into his palms in preparation of a fight.

Ferocious, It wanted to bite.

[F/N] smiled, It wasn't happy or sad but instead it was malicious. A cruel kind of expression that hissed venom.

"O-Oh yeah. Because if I die, You lose your ticket to number one, Am I right?" [F/N] mused as her smile grew acidic, Pushing her face further to his as she examined his expression turning from her words.

It fell, His face. The angry visage he sported was still there yet it had fallen into some kind of disbelief or confusion. He just.. Blinked, Looking at her standing unfazed. Why he cared, Akaza didn't know.

The only thing that he did know is that she couldn't do what she was about to do, What irreversible act he wouldn't let her commit. Akaza shook his head, Gawking at her.

"That's not what I mean- For fuck's sake can you not see what you're doing to yourself right now?!" His anger picked back up as his words ramped back up into wrath, [F/N] rolled her eyes at his words.

"I know exactly what I'm doing.. S-So how about you stand back and let me go?!" She bit back, Tugging at her upper arm to try and let him to forgive his grip. Akaza only tightened it, Yanking her further back from the edge.

"No, You will come down from this fucking roof and you will speak about whatever the hell is making you do this, Right now!" He yelled, Nose jutting into her face as [F/N] exposed her grinding teeth in rage.

"Why do you care so much?! L-Let me go!" She yelled, Starting to struggle harder against his iron clad grip around her upper arm. Akaza didn't budge however, Tugging her further and further away from the edge.

"No!" Akaza responded, Making [F/N] hiss.

She snarled and in one swift movement she drew her head back and slammed it against Akaza's.

Akaza yelled out in shock as he forehead roughly connected with hers, Taking him by surprise as he stumbled back several steps.

[F/N] felt the throb as the contents within her skull started to rock at her movement, Though she composed herself as Akaza's grip was let go from her arm.

In one swift movement her body jerked around, Her foot pressing down onto the spine of the of the roof and launching her forward towards the edge. There was no more time to hesitate as she started sprinting to the edge.

Her feet thundered against the roof tiles, Sweat falling from her face as she tried to get to the end of the roof.

Her foot hit the border of the spine, The one hanging off the sixty foot drop below. She prepared to launch herself off before she felt the strength of two toned arms wrap around her waist.

"Gh-" [F/N] sputtered as they caged her in, Squeezing her tight as her body was lunged backwards and thrown across the roof.

Her body tossed and turned within the air, Wind rushing against her body as she spun around for only a second before her back hit the rough texture of the tiled roof. Once she did she bounced, Once then twice before skittering to a halt.

Akaza stood a few metres away, Their positions now switched as he stood in her place at the edge while she was splayed out on the other side of the roof.

He opened his mouth, Yelling out his words.

"Don't understand what the hell you're doing?! Are you really this ready to waste yourself on this roof?! Are yo-?"

"-Shut up."

[F/N]'s voice spat out, A raw and primal sound that made Akaza instantly close his mouth. It was her fighting spirit, It was growing by the second. The sense of danger, The overwhelming sense of hatred burning inside her was stark.

He had never seen a spirit so strong and repugnant before.

[F/N] pushed herself up by her elbows, Her form shaking as she got onto her knee's and looked at Akaza with such loathing and ire that it could kill from a single glance.

A wild beast, That was the only thing looking back at him.

"L-Leave, Now. If you're worried about Kokushibo then he won't suspect a thing that you're here, Kaigaku won't tell- He'd already be dead from his master's blade for letting me die." [F/N] said as she got up from the floor, Standing up on shaking legs as she met him eye to eye.

Akaza's brows furrowed, His shoulders raising higher than they already were as he matched her stance.

"No, I don't know why you're trying to do this- But for fuck's sake is this really worth it?! Get the fuck down from this roof, [F/N]!" He yelled back at her. What words he meant to say came out as a threat, What words he wanted to let spill was masked as anger.

[F/N] tilted her head, Almost mocking him.

"W-What? Some 'throwaway shrine maiden' is worth keeping around huh? I'm not getting down, I-I'm choosing to do this, Akaza. So let me end this now.." [F/N] hissed though it almost sounded like pleading, The way her eyes looked at him almost seemed desperate.

Akaza cracked his knuckles, Preparing. He stared at her, Eyebrows lowering as his glare burned into her.

"I won't let you." Akaza finalised.

[F/N] cracked her neck, Rolling her shoulders as her hands turned into fists.

"Fine by me."

As soon as the words left her mouth her legs started to move. Her figure instantly turning around to the other side of the roof and starting to sprint towards it, Feet going as quickly as she could.

Akaza chased after her, His demonic speed was no match for her human stamina as he swiftly tackled her down to the ground.

His body slammed into hers, His shoulder pushing into the dip of her back and making her yelp out in pain. She collapsed to the ground, Akaza on top of her with the sheer force of their impact shaking the building.

[F/N] hissed as she wildly hit at Akaza from behind, Her front pressed against the rooftop and unable to aim her hits. He had a hand holding her down onto the roof, Restraining her movements with a single hand to the back.

Even when she did hit him, It didn't even make him flinch. His demonic endurance was too much to be affected by what felt like a light touch to his skin.

"Give it up, Now!" Akaza spat as he looked down at her, Flailing about and screaming obscenities at him. She tried to struggle or wiggle her way out of his hold, But it was no use and there was nothing she could do.

Not until the shine of sapphiric blue caught her eye.

"No!" [F/N] took no time in grabbing the lotus hairpin that she had tossed aside only minutes ago, Her hand gripping onto the flower and flaunting the pin as she stabbed it without target towards Akaza.

"FUCKING DAMNIT-!" Akaza hollered out in pain as the pin was rammed into his right eye, Piercing into the jelly of the organ as it spurted out hot blood from the innards. [F/N] yanked it out, Which only made it spew out another hot stream of ichor.

He let go the hand on her back in favour of moving it towards the injury of his eye, Taking more time regenerating as it was an organ.

[F/N] slipped out from under him, Arms grasping at whatever she could of the roof as she started to stumble out into a jog.

"S-Stop trying so hard, Akaza! I have nothing left to live for, Let me do this-! Stop trying to save me!" [F/N] said as her legs ran along. How useful it would be to have a nichirin blade right now, How easier this entire process would be.

Though as she looked at the red covering the sapphire flower in her hand, The pearl ribbons pooling in her palm. She realised that the pin was made of scarlet iron ore. The exact same that swords of slayers were made out of.

Kokushibo, What little grace he had given her. He gave her something to use to finalise her life, To write the last chapter in a monotonous book that would never stop for the life of it. So that's why she would personally end it .

Akaza had already regenerated at this point, His right eye already as good as new as he chased after her.

[F/N] knew that if he had tackled her to the ground while she ran, She wouldn't get up again and her plight would end. So she turned around to face the music, Scarlet ore pin in her hand as she displayed it openly.

Akaza slammed a foot down in front of him. [F/N] flicked the pin like a switchblade.

"Last chance, [F/N]. Back down, Now!" Akaza called out but [F/N] didn't answer him, She only pushed a single foot towards him. Launching herself forward with the sharp end of the pin in her hand. Akaza raised his hands in defence.

The pin came down on him, The sharp end slashing down and cutting open his skin.

On it's own it wouldn't mean a single thing but as [F/N] hacked at him over and over again with unforeseen speed, Akaza could tell how the sheer will she had to win their fight.

"Why are you trying to do this?! What the hell are you going to gain from offing yourself?!" Akaza yelled out as he threw out a punch, His fist creating heat in it's movements as it went towards her chest. [F/N] dodged, Her movements flowing like water as she ducked under his fist.

"My redemption! If I can't have it in this life, Then I can have it in the next!" [F/N] yelled out as she flipped the pin in her hand upwards. She rose, Akaza had barely any time to dodge as the pin slashed into his arms once more.

Akaza gawked as they continued to deck out punches and slashes over and over again. [F/N] was tricky, She was fast and unpredictable in her movements due to the desperate ferality pulsating through her mind.

Saliva spat out from her mouth as she screamed, Veins popping in her forehead as she got quicker and quicker.

Akaza kept up however, His movements becoming swifter in tandem with hers. Throwing out left then right as she lowered up and down to avoid his attacks, They weren't to kill nor were they to harm which was the only thing holding him back from overpowering her.

They were to restrain, To hold her back from herself.

"Redemption? The hell do you mean by redemption?! What could you possibly do to redeem yourself by shedding your own goddamn blood?!" Akaza yelled as he threw out another punch.

"Y-You would never understand! It's better for everyone if I just die, Right here, Right now! There is nothing left for someone like me to live for!" [F/N] screamed as she swayed to the side, Avoiding his punch.

"You're not thinking clearly-! You have goddamn mountains to live for-!" Akaza yelled as he dodged another one of [F/N]'s slashes. Akaza didn't put any thought into what he said, Nor did he really understand it.

But it felt natural, Words coming easily onto his tongue.

[F/N] scoffed as she swung the pin once more.

"You don't know shit about me, You don't understand how much I deserve this- Akaza! There is no more reason for me to continue existing, There is no more meaning to my life! Let me go!" [F/N] shrieked as she jumped back and landed a few feet away on the roof.

Akaza lunged back as well. A fist punching into the roof as he landed, Making an eruption of tiles and wood erupt from the crater below. He snapped his head up towards [F/N], Who was sweating and breathing heavily.

As he looked at her. Details from weeks ago suddenly became much more prevalent than they did back then. The way her hand almost slipped from his when she dangled off the side of the infinity castle, The way she asked if there was a god with such uncertainty.

Akaza doesn't know why he cares, In truth he didn't have a personal connection to [F/N]. Not a massive one anyways but he still didn't want to see her harmed, Because she was a woman? Maybe.

"You shouldn't even care- You're a demon, But I suppose you don't like women getting harmed so maybe I should've expected this.." [F/N] commented, Confirming his thoughts as her nose scrunched up in disgust.

Akaza's lip turned into a snarl.

"I'm not letting you kill yourself because giving up on your life isn't a move the Hashira who killed one thousand would do. He's suppose to be strong! You're suppose to be strong so start living up to your name, Goddamnit!" Akaza yelled out at her, Standing up to his full height with every word dripping with truth.

[F/N]'s wrathful expression that burned so bright before, The one that shown her anger on her sleeve with such vigour before just.. Fell.

Her shoulders slumped, Her snarl dropping down into a tight lipped frown as her hands fell slack to her side. [F/N] just stared at him blankly, Her eyes shown no more fire, Burnt out and exhausted as she huffed in and out.

She gazed up towards the dark sky above, Biting her tongue. His words made her feel so small, [F/N] knew that he didn't mean it. [F/N] knew that but that didn't remove the impact that it brought upon her.

That title, The Hashira that slayed a thousand. It still weighed on her shoulders and picked away at her mind, The expectation and proclamation of her worth. How she loathed the way those string of words sounded.

She sighed, The breath coming out turning into cold mist as it floated away in the air.

Inari, I hope you're watching this.

She gripped the sapphire flower tighter and tighter, Her head turning down to look at the gleaming jewel in the little light that was provided to them. It was beautiful, A lotus flower with such beautiful petals. [F/N] raised it, Showing it to Akaza.

"Akaza. You know how heavy that title is on my shoulders, Right?" [F/N] said as she backed up a bit, Shaking the lotus in her hand to emphasise her point. Akaza blinked looking at the hairpin.

"How heavy?" Akaza responded in turn, Not understanding where she was going with this.

[F/N] smiled, Yet the expression she held had no happiness behind it. No joy and light as she shuffled back even more, Her face filled with nothing but apathy as her smile widened even further.

"Heavy enough to make the fall all the more harder." [F/N] said as if it was a punchline to a joke. But as Akaza's attention was finally drawn away from the hairpin his eyes widened, Finally being able to see what she was doing.

His attention was drawn away from her, His eyesight raised to obstruct her lower half. In the time that she had displayed her hairpin she had shuffled far enough to reach the edge.

Akaza had no time to react.

[F/N] smiled, Time seemed to stop for one final time. Everything was silenced as she began to fall backwards.

His eyes widened.

Her body tipped over, Her bare feet no longer connected to the tiles of the roof as the hairpin was let go from her hand, Falling down with her into the drop below.

Her Samue flowed in the wind, So sublime and gracefully as she started to fall. The air around them both got colder, The wind stopping in place as if to become bystander to the event unfolding.

[F/N] mouthed something, Something so small yet Akaza understood every syllable as he watched her mouth.

'Thank you for trying'

Then, She disappeared down below.

Akaza screamed.

In a second his back foot pushed forward, In a split second he had launched himself forward into the air at blinding speeds. His muscles pushed to his limits as he sprinted to the edge in record times and lunged off of it to follow her.

The air picked up again, Whipping against his skin as he watched [F/N] spin around in the air as she fell down towards the ground. Akaza maneuvered himself, Using his own weight to make him fall faster than she did.

[F/N] watched the world around her start to spin, Watched the wind rush around her as the world turned into a dark blur. She tried to kick away the fear building up inside her once more, Shutting her eyes so tight to block it out.

She exhaled, Letting the final breath be expelled from her lungs. Hair dancing in the wind as she fell, She tried to relax as the ground below her grew bigger and bigger. The docks becoming as detailed as she could.

This was it, Only a few more feet to fall. A single se-

THUMP!

Something hard jabbed into her side, A sharp pain erupting within her organs as she sputtered out blood.

[F/N] was launched only a few feet to the side, But it was enough for her to avoid the dock entirely. She recognised it as Akaza's hand, He had hurt her, He had broken his vows as he locked eyes with her mid-fall.

She didn't meet the face of old wood and rickety old fisher docks, Nor did she smell the coppery iron of her blood. None of them were present as she suddenly came face first with glowing aquamarine.

SPLASH!

[F/N] hit the waters, Aqua exploding into the air at impact as the droplets scattered around onto the wooden docks.

Her nerves were met with a burning cold, Suddenly surrounded by the freezing glow of the vast ocean. Oxygen deprived, She was left within the scorching yet somehow comforting sensation of the environment around her.

She was floating, There was no noise or sound apart from the bubbles rushing by her body and tickling against her bare skin. She was left to her thoughts, So dissonant and deprived from her surroundings.

How cruel must Inari be? Whenever she tries to end her suffering, There's always something to get in her way. Why was she just left to burn, Why did she never get any salvation from the deity she worshipped her entire life.

[F/N] stared up at the blurry waves that were sloshing back and forth against one and other, An undying battle to be the one on top. Their power broken against another who met their victim's fate only a moment later.

Seaweed danced and swayed within the ocean that she floated in. Tears starting to mix in with the water as she stared up at the waves in a trance. A puppet made to dance forever, To always be tethered no matter how much they may try to cut the strings.

Her lips parted, Eyes going dull as she was left to float.

A blurry figure made itself clear from the world above the water, Standing on the docks it took no time in diving into the chilling sea as he swam towards her limp body. [F/N] didn't even react when she felt an arm around her waist start to pull her up.

She had failed her second attempt just like she did her first, She didn't succeed. She was a failure as always, Unable to do anything right. Unable to keep a promise or unable to get out of bed in the mornings.

Whatever, The sun was always too bright for her anyways.

It's why she hated her childhood home, The sunlight always present 24/7 to taunt her. The night being a cold comfort in such a horrid life. She would stay in bed forever if she could, Forever under the temporary love of her covers.

As she felt her body being lifted out the water and oxygen finally returning to her lungs, She made no movement whatsoever. Like her limbs had given up moving, Like her muscles had caved in on themselves.

[F/N] smiled tiredly, As if it was funny to her.

How cruel.

☆♡☆

The wind spread across the vast dimension of the shrine, Blowing a brisk breeze against the skin of anyone who was lucky to bear it. But it left a frigid feeling in the bone's of [F/N], Who was currently sat upon the steps leading up towards the shrine.

She was draped and wrapped in an oversized towel Akaza had found in a deep section of the shrine, One he had made her follow him to collect as he didn't want to leave her alone for even a moment.

She was dripping in seawater, Her entire body was drenched in it and her Samue was sopping wet. Her hair dampened and dripping down as her head was dropped to look at her feet.

Huddling within the towel, Her knees were pulled close to her chest as her head was pushed into the dip of them. Hands wrapping around her form and towel draped over her to soak up all the water.

A splash of water exploded a few metres off of the dock, Akaza erupting from the sea and upper body draped over the side of the dock. His hand clutched the sapphire lotus hairpin tightly within his hands as he climbed onto the dock.

[F/N] made no move to react, Keeping her eyes dead-set on the puddle she made upon the steps. Not even daring to look up as she heard the heavy footsteps grow in volume as they marched towards her.

A dark shadow was cast over her in the shape of a toned figure. Akaza stood only a foot or two apart from her as he examined her form, Sapphire flower still clutched tightly in his hand as he stretched it out towards her.

"Your hairpin." Akaza said, Presenting it to her in a now open palm. [F/N] didn't raise her head to even look at it, Water droplets splattering onto the wood of the dock as she nudged her knees closer to her form.

Akaza knitted his brows before lowering down and placing the accessory beside her on the steps. [F/N] didn't move to take it then, Nor did she move to take it now. Akaza sighed, Moving along the dock.

[F/N] felt a weight beside her push down the wooden step she sat on, She didn't need to look to her side to know that Akaza had sat down beside her. Almost too close for comfort as he leaned over and placed his elbows onto his knees.

He didn't speak, What words that could've been said were already spoken but not by mouth. Akaza just gazed out into the far off horizon, Taking time to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

"Why'd you do it." Was all he said, Not looking back at her. It wasn't angry anymore but it wasn't weightless in the slightest. Neither of them spoke for a long while after he had, The sloshing of water was the only thing to hear.

[F/N] breathed out, Tugging the towel over her figure just a little more.

"Told you. Life just isn't worth living for me, It's a struggle just to get out of bed everyday.. I don't have any purpose.. Even if I did I'm a monster and a failure, My death would be my redemption as well as my cure.." She replied as she watched the water from afar with a forlorn gaze.

Akaza took a moment to soak the words into his skin, Listening to the settling of the shrine and feeling the wind brush against his skin. He felt his salmon hair start to wave, The feeling of it so delicate.

"You don't have a purpose?" Akaza prodded as he took a gaze back to her, Looking over her chilled and shaken body from the water. [F/N] shrugged slightly, Looking back at him with lame eyes.

"I like to think everyone has one.." She started, Dropping her head to the side as she started to think over her words. "I know they do.. I use to look at my co-workers and I could feel it, Like a sixth sense you know?"

Akaza turned to fully look at her, Nodding his head for her to continue on.

[F/N] clicked her tongue, Tapping her fingers against the dock.

"But not me, Whatever drive I had has been long gone.. My motivation just use to be survival, To be able to afford a meal or just keep myself alive.. Isn't that just pathetic?" [F/N] smiled sadly as she shook her head and sighed.

Akaza looked at her and felt something resonate inside of him, Something familiar and something he could almost relate to as an image of a boy punching a man appeared in his mind.

He blinked, The vision disappearing. Akaza shook it off as he turned his focus back towards her.

"No, I don't think so. Surviving is a vital part of humanity and just wanting to pay for food isn't pathetic in the slightest." Akaza responded as he saw the tapping of her fingers stop and her vision trail off.

"But that's just it. I was just surviving, I wasn't living.." [F/N] whispered so quietly, Her voice barely carrying within the air. The wind picked up, [F/N]'s hair dancing in the crisp breeze as she took a moment to take it in.

Akaza turned back towards the horizon. He didn't know what to say anymore, Emotions that he should never of felt in the first place had no phrase or word to convey what he wanted to speak.

[F/N] smiled as she felt the warm embrace of tears grace her thawing skin, They travelled down her cheeks and created an unscratchable itch as they reached her chin. They dropped to the floor as she took her entire environment in.

[F/N] turned to look at Akaza, Still smiling softly.

"..Do you want to know why I'm like this? You wanna hear the true reason why I deserve to die?" [F/N] asked, Smiling wider as Akaza turned to her with wide eyes. He stared at her for a moment before nodding.

[F/N] sniffled, Her arm moving out from under the towel and holding her hand out towards him. It was still soaking wet from the water, Droplets dripping down from the tips of her fingers.

"I want you to hold my hand, Then I'll explain everything.. I.. I've never told anyone this before, So I trust that you will keep it a secret.." [F/N] said, Nudging her hand further towards him.

Akaza's eyes narrowed in on her hand before glancing back up at her.

"I won't tell anyone, Not that I can but.. You really trust me to tell me this? Besides, Holding hands? Doesn't that seem a little personal?" Akaza said as his hand raised yet never took hers.

[F/N] sniffled, Rolling her eyes as she shrugged.

"A-Akaza, We are way past personal at this point. I'll be here for a long time so who cares if we do, Might as well. So fuck that rule and you hold my goddamn hand, Okay?" [F/N] demanded as she shoved her hand towards him, Wiping her tears with the other.

Akaza nodded.

He laid his hand in [F/N]'s, Her fingers curling around his as the dead cold of his hands started to be warmed by the comforting body heat of [F/N]'s hand. She took in a deep breath, Looking up towards the sky before exhaling.

"Alright. Here we go.."

Next Chapter

[bronzemettle]

Thunderer Hammers

Mjolnir:

The original hammer, created by Sindri for Odin, given to Thor, then claimed by Jane Foster.

You know what this one looks like.

Enchantment Engraving: - "Whosoever holds this hammer, if they be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."

You know what this one can do.

Worthiness is based on humility (without delusion or self-villification), compassion for all things (even your enemies), the Will to do good, and a passionate, revelrous warrior spirit driven by a burning sense of justice.

Stormbreaker:

Created by Eitri at the request of Thor for Beta Ray Bill so that he could continue to protect his people when Thor took Mjolnir back from him.

A round, flat, blunt striking surface on one side, a wedge-like sharp edge on the other, and a short spike at the top.

Enchantment Engraving: - "Any who act according to the will of their people, a protector in time of need, may wield the power of Thor."

Nearly identical powers to Mjolnir, with an additional translation enchantment that allows the wielder to speak and understand nearly any language fluently.

Worthiness is based on the cause that someone holds in their Heart as they wield it, and whether the people (cannot be the wielder) that the intent is meant to benefit would also see the honor and wisdom, or undeniable neccesity, in it being done.

Thunderstrike:

Created by Eitri at the request of Odin for Eric Masterson, then wielded temporarily by Steve Rogers until the Secret Empire incident, after which it was locked away and then stolen by Kevin Masterson.

A solid, blunt, rounded, irregular pentagonal prism shape, with a slightly longer handle that has a chain attached to the pommel.

Enchantment Engraving: - "The worlds still need heroes. Overcome vice and glory and you shall strike with the might of Thor."

Temporarily modified engraving during Secret Empire: - "The worlds still need rulers. Overcome all who oppose you and strike with the might of America."

Grants very little divine or magical power, no control over the weather, only small shocks of lightning. Primarily grants the godlike physical strength and durability to the wielder.

Worthiness is based on humility, freedom from personal shame or acts that Odin would consider shameful, and selfless motivation to protect or help others. (Temporarily modified to be based on being a goddamn fascist, but it's back to normal now.)

Stormcaster:

Created by Sindri at the request of Loki for Storm. She gave it to Thor after he became worthy of Mjolnir again so that Jane could keep Mjolnir. When Ragnarok comes, will be passed down to Thor's daughter Thrúd.

Similar to Mjolnir, except with a pointed wedge on one end instead of a flat striking surface.

Enchantment Engraving: - "For those who prove worthy of the trust and worship others bestow, wield the divine magic of Thor."

The opposite of Thunderstrike. Grants primarily divine and magic power, perhaps even moreso than Mjolnir itself, but only enough physical might to comfortably wield it (still superhuman).

Worthiness requires being worshipped, idolized, or otherwise upheld as a role model, unquestioned leader, or figure of faith by others, and is based on how well you live up to that vision people hold of you.

Lightbringer:

An alternate universe Thor's hammer who was killed by Doctor Doom during Battleworld. It was secretly found after the restoration of the multiverse by Storm and Dazzler, and has been locked away since.

Almost identical to Mjolnir except in a lighter color, and with more intricate decorative engravings which glow with lightning when it's used.

Enchantment Engraving: - "Whosoever is worthy, shine unyielding with the sound and fury of the god of thunder."

Only somewhat less physical might than Mjolnir, similar magic, but grants some sound manipulation, illusion, and light/shadow manipulation powers which the main universe's god of thunder has never had.

Worthiness is based on overwhelming, bottomless perseverence ("Never give up, never surrender"), even in the face of deeds that by all reason should be impossible, because what's Right is Right to fight for, forever, whether it's achievable or not.

Warcrusher:

Created by Sindri at the request of Heimdall and given to Red Norvell to remain in Asgard and attend to the local duties of a god of thunder so that Thor would be free to spend more time on earth.

A much longer-handled square warhammer.

Enchantment Engraving: - "For the good of Asgard, until the day it burns, a loyal god of thunder you shall become in service."

Nearly identical powers to Mjolnir, plus an additional connection to the branches of Yggdrasil that allows the creation of interdimensional portals independent of the Bifrost.

Worthiness is irrelevant. Upon volunteering to become the wielder of Warcrusher, Red Norvell was mystically bound to the lifelong service of the good of Asgard whether he likes it or not.

[absentmoon]

list of thisisnotawebsitedotcom passwords (updated as i go, organizing later) (additions are welcome and thank you !!!)

- Dipper, Mabel (so important to try this one yourself!), Wendy, Soos, Ford, Pacifica, Robbie, Tad Strange, Blendin, Filbrick, Tyrone, Giffany (warning; jumpscare after a few clicks), Pines, Mason, Burnside

- 29121239168518

- 333 sundapple lane, cozy creek, IL, 60714-94611

- Abuelita

- Ad Astra Per Aspera

- Axolotl

- Baaaa

- Booberry

- Book of Bill

- Bye Gold

- T.J Eckleburg

- Cryptogram Codex (!!)

- Conspiracy

- Curse Wittebane

- Deer Teeth

- Disney

- Dorito (JUMPSCARE WARNING also loud!!!)

- Disco Girl

- Blind Eye

- Cursed

- Goodnight Sally

- Horror

- Euclid, Scalene

- Rat, 3466554

- Divorce

- Death

- Ducktective

- Even his lies are lies

- I'm still on your mind

- Life

- Baby

- Portal

- Triangle

- Platinum Paz

- Love

- Love Ya Bro

- Weird

- Mystery

- Naitsuaf

- Pinata

- Forget The Past

- Gravity Falls

- God

- Gun

- Hotxolotl

- Theory

- Irregular

- Theraprism

- Spookemups

- Morality

- Reality, Universe

- Shape

- Question, Answer

- Journal 1, 2, 3

- Vallis Cineris

- Euclydia

- Rubber Hose

- Sorry

- Tantrum

- Theyll See

- Titansblood

- Weirdmageddon

- Well Well Wellbeing

- Season 1, 2, 3

- Seven Eyes

- Skeleton

- Who Are You

- Fordtramarine

- ... Fortnite.

- Yes, No

- any swears

- Music (not sure, seems to turn off the background music?)

- Alex (opens the google search for flannel)

- Monster (opens the google search for "THERES A MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK")

- Mystery Shack (opens the google search for "confusion hill")

- Meow (opens this tiktok)

- Virus (leads to this)

- Waddles (leads to this website)

- Bill (leads to the wikipedia page for triangle) UPDATE — seemingly changed to this video?

- Blanchin (leads to this youtube video)

- Gideon (leads to the google search for "sweat resistant bolo ties")

- Fixinit1 (leads to this vid)

- Toby Determined (leads to the google search for "restraining order")

- Dippy Fresh (leads to this image)

- Stan (leads to the ebay search for brass knuckles; gold chains for old men; dogs playing poker; 8-ball cane; male girdle; shriner fez; colonel sanders tie, and then an on-website picture)

- McGucket (leads to this youtube vid)

- Xylar, Craz (leads to this youtube vid)

[dkniade]

Eula with armour while still keeping main colour scheme and some shapes from her official outfit, but I incorporated more symbols from her character stories

Thanks to @teabreaking asking about Fontaine I was able to talk about character design! And somehow thought of Eula who’s also got the black/white/blue/gold colour scheme

Notes transcript: [In-Game Setting: Guerrilla company (Chinese version) Captain (Knights of Favonius.) Proficient fighter, irregular battles & environment (on par with Acting Grand Master) Physically strong (? claymore) proud, efficient, kind, misunderstood, individualistic / Clothing inspiration: knight armour, original design, dirndl (traditional German folk outfit)]. Design motifs: glacier-like silver shoulder guards with Glacial Seal = shouldering the burden of being a Lawrence. Knights’ crest on tie = Knights of Favonius. Anemo symbol on chest plate & subtle petal motif similar to Venti’s cape = Mondstadt. chandelier-like chain mail = aristocratic Dance of Sacrifice, Flickering Candlelight. spindrift-like hair & cape, Hydro-symbol-like swirls & teardrop on boots = Spindrift Knight (& misconception that she’d be a Hydro user, patrols near shores, bone whistle imitates sound of waves).

process sketches and initial colour scheme:

Felt it was too dark and the lapels didn’t stand out against the armour but from afar it looks like it could be a nice suit design. At that point it felt like I was simplifying Kaeya’s design all over again, and trying to find a nice contrast without making it too cluttered was haaaard… I don’t think I’ve seriously designed any armour before this? Was trying to go for a chandelier motif for the chain mail section around her waist. I’m not sure how practical this armour would be for her type of guerrilla combat but it should be more protective compared to her official outfit…

[talenlee]

Half Your Life

What have you done for half your life?

Back when you were two, you’d probably been talking for about half your life. Around eight, you might have pooped yourself for half your life.

As you get older, the things you can do for half your life need to be things that held your attention for longer. At 30, you might have started a hobby when you were 15 that held onto you. You might have an email address you got when you were 14 that you’re still using even after you wind up on some place like LinkedIn.

I imagine if you have some kind of ongoing meditative practice? Church, obviously is one option. In my experience most churchgoers are irregular, and they may want to say they’ve done something for ten years but they’re using the start and finish dates to smooth over some big, month long gaps. Sometimes those are meaningful things, like a gap from an illness, and sometimes those are just not wanting to go. The ten years gets to bookend it, and maybe if you press on it, you’ll get a pretty much.

What about musical instruments? I have to imagine there are some 14 year olds who’ve been playing piano half their lives.

Games? Sports teams? I started playing Dungeons & Dragons when I was 17, and if we shepherd together 3rd edition, 3.5, and 4e in one big umbrella, I’ve been playing that pretty much weekly or fortnightly for something like 20 years. I haven’t played it in a bit over a year but that’s because a game I’m in is waiting for all the players to be available. I started playing Magic: The Gathering in 2003, which means I was 20. I’ve been engaged with the game the whole of that time, but I don’t think I’ve bought a new booster since Coldsnap. Magic: The Gathering Arena means I’m playing it pretty regularly, but I think I’ve played more Magic: the Gathering these past two years than I did in the previous ten. Calling it a thing I’ve done for half my life is imposing the equalising value of that time on all of it, as if seven years ago, I actually had played a game.

My uncle has a blog, too. He’s written about his experience in speedway, and his blog is titled something like three quarters of my life, or two thirds of my life. Basically as soon as he could drive, he was driving to speedway, to partake in coverage, to watch, to be part of the whole event and it has been part of his life as long as, well, I’ve been alive. I’ve never not seen my uncle and my dad going to speedway; when they couldn’t get involved with racing it was because of their needs, not anything to do with their wants.

That’s a hobby, that’s a lifestyle element. That’s a thing that you engage with because you want to, and their longevity is both part of the ongoing interest and that interest changing. I’m not a fan of Magic: The Gathering‘s Scourge set, unchanged and crystallised in time. In fact, if you want me to go in on it (you should ask me to go in on it) I think that Onslaught is a Magic set that represents symptoms of very deep problems that the game had. But the game kept changing and people kept getting interested. If I’d chosen Chess, there wouldn’t be new pieces but there’d be new people, new strategies, new trends and metagames, and a whole new way of being in the chess environment. Chess is vast. Sports are vast. Team affiliation is a thing that grows and shapes and becomes part of a sequence of events, a chain of concerts, a chain of championships, a chain of people.

What about something that doesn’t change like that?

What about something that you’ve done every single day, for half your life?

There’s definitely stuff you’ve done. Sleeping, eating, I don’t imagine it’s hard to think of some mundane thing you’ve done every day for the last half of your life. You’ve probably gotten dressed (though, y’know, I know), and you’ve probably drunk water (though, again, y’know, I know). Millenials are people who love naps and never have them after all. That’s however, stuff that’s general to the population. Everyone’s like that, more or less.

I’m thinking about unique to me things, as far as I know.

I’m thinking about how, every day of my life that I’ve gone to sleep since I was 21, I have finished my night the same way, every time, with the same rule. Every night, the last thing I say, to anyone, is the same thing, to the same person. The small number of nights she hasn’t been around? I’ve still made sure I’m saying it, I’ve said it to her pillow, and I’ve gone to sleep, knowing it’s the last thing I said aloud.

I don’t know where I got this rule from? I think it was a thing I might have been told as a piece of advice, or something from a country song, or something from some other source of contentious emotional feeling. Maybe advice from a counsellor or a priest back when I was in the church. The idea was that if I couldn’t bring myself to say it, I wasn’t ready to go to bed. I wanted to fight to not sleep, to make sure that if I was mad or hurt or sad, I could at least recognise my feelings, and get to the point where I was okay saying I love you, and then meaning it.

I don’t think this is a healthy thing in my head, by the way. I think my need to do that is because I’m terrified of being a guy who lets his resentment of people fester, who has this body of friends or family who never know what I think or feel, and I go to my grave as someone who hated his wife for what, twenty years and never said or did anything. I didn’t see that in my family, but you I know I saw it in fiction all around me.

I knew when I’d start.

Starting today, I’ve been married to Fox for more than half my life.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[fordcrownvictoria]

From the House of the Dead | A Reflective Essay

Leoš Janáček’s From the House of the Dead (Z mrtvého domu) is one of the most harrowing, technically daring, and emotionally complex operas of the twentieth century. Composed near the end of Janáček’s life and premiered posthumously in 1930, it is both a culmination of the composer’s signature musical techniques and a haunting portrait of human suffering and endurance. To understand its impact, one must first delve into its unique musical architecture, then yield to the operatic soul of its narrative, and finally reflect on its lasting legacy.

The Technical Structure: Fragmented Wholeness

Musically, From the House of the Dead is perhaps Janáček’s most radical work. It defies conventional operatic structure, not merely because of its episodic plot, but because of the composer’s refusal to conform to traditional arias or ensemble forms. Instead, the opera is built from a mosaic of short motifs—speech rhythms transcribed into instrumental shapes, fragments of folk-like melodies, and terse rhythmic cells that accumulate meaning over time.

The opera’s score is a collage of musical gestures, stitched together with a rawness that mirrors the physical and spiritual destitution of its prison setting. Janáček’s signature use of nápěvky mluvy—melodic fragments based on the natural intonation of speech—pervades the vocal lines. These phrases, abrupt and unpolished, evoke the immediacy of human conversation rather than the polished lyricism of traditional opera. The orchestration is sparse and often jagged: rattling chains, col legno strings, and angular brass fanfares mimic the brutal texture of prison life.

Notably, the opera lacks a central protagonist or a conventional dramatic arc. Instead, it unfolds as a series of monologues and interactions, each inmate revealing a past steeped in pain and guilt. This fragmentation of form is deliberate. Janáček uses musical discontinuity as a structural principle, mirroring the dehumanization and isolation that defines the penal colony.

In spite of—or because of—its disjointedness, the score achieves a sense of collective voice. The prisoners’ stories, though musically and narratively disparate, are held together by a unifying sense of shared suffering. The orchestra often reflects this, moving in shifting blocks of harmony and rhythm, like weather passing over a bleak landscape. It is a music of raw nerves and stripped-down emotional truth, pushing the limits of operatic expression.

Scene Breakdown: Luka’s Monologue (Act I)

One of the most gripping scenes occurs early in Act I, when Luka Kuzmich delivers his monologue recounting the torture and betrayal that led to his imprisonment. This scene serves as a blueprint for Janáček’s dramatic and musical methods. The monologue begins almost conversationally, with irregular phrases that mimic the natural pace of Luka’s speech. There is no lyrical outpouring—only jagged melodic contours that rise and fall like a man struggling to recall a nightmare.

The orchestration is sparse but psychologically acute. Quiet tremolos in the lower strings and ominous timpani strokes create a background of unease, mirroring Luka’s emotional volatility. As he describes his persecution by a military officer, the music becomes increasingly fragmented, slipping in and out of tonality. Dissonant brass interjections and sudden tempo shifts underline the chaos of the memory.

What’s striking is Janáček’s refusal to resolve the tension. There is no moral payoff, no catharsis. Instead, Luka’s story ends abruptly, swallowed back into the grinding monotony of prison life. Yet musically, it resonates throughout the opera, with echoes of his motifs appearing in later monologues—especially during moments of injustice or repressed rage. In this way, Luka’s narrative becomes part of the opera’s DNA, not as a resolved plot thread but as a living trauma that continues to infect the whole.

The Plot: A Symphony of Broken Souls

Based on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s semi-autobiographical novel, the opera presents life in a Siberian prison through a series of prisoner narratives rather than a central plot. Each act introduces a tale—Luka’s tale of violence and betrayal, Skuratov’s doomed romance, Šiškov’s jealous crime—offering intimate glimpses into the emotional wreckage of men pushed beyond the edge. These stories are interspersed with the daily monotony of prison life: physical labor, corporal punishment, animal fights staged for distraction, and rare moments of camaraderie.

Janáček treats his characters with piercing empathy. Despite their crimes, they are not monsters, but fractured humans searching for meaning, love, or simple redemption. Even the arrival of Alexandr Petrovich Goryanchikov, a nobleman imprisoned for political reasons, does not provide the expected moral or narrative anchor. Instead, his story is muted, his role primarily that of observer and quiet benefactor to the young boy Alyeya. His presence underscores the theme that suffering is democratic—it does not discriminate between noblemen and thieves.

Romantically speaking, the opera is not romantic in the conventional sense; it is romantic in the Dostoevskian sense: a deep, yearning exploration of the soul under duress. Each man clings to memory as if it were a thread keeping him tethered to his humanity. The opera’s final gesture—a symbolic moment of hope as a wounded eagle is set free—suggests that even in the darkest corners of life, redemption or at least dignity might be possible. It is a fragile hope, earned not through plot resolution but through collective endurance.

Legacy: A Voice that Grows Louder with Time

At its premiere, From the House of the Dead confounded audiences and critics alike. Its lack of narrative clarity, its brutal subject matter, and its stark musical style set it apart from Janáček’s earlier, more “accessible” operas such as Jenůfa or The Cunning Little Vixen. For many years, it was treated as a curiosity, an unfinished work later edited and softened by Janáček’s students. But in recent decades, it has been reclaimed as one of his masterpieces, performed in editions that preserve the jagged power of his final score.

Today, From the House of the Dead speaks with startling relevance. In an age marked by mass incarceration, exile, and state violence, its depiction of the dehumanized and the forgotten resonates more deeply than ever. Directors have found in it a vehicle for political and existential reflection, and its musical innovations have inspired generations of composers who see in Janáček a prophet of post-tonal expressionism.

Its legacy is also personal: it is Janáček’s own confrontation with death, written as he himself was nearing the end of his life. Yet rather than retreat into sentimentality, he embraced the brutal honesty of the prison camp, finding in it not just despair, but also the raw material of compassion. In a world that often demands spectacle and resolution, From the House of the Dead offers neither. Instead, it gives us something harder and more enduring: the shared, unvarnished truth of human suffering—and the stubborn hope that lies buried within it.