#its like he vanished and woke up in the future

[genderless-naper]

personal melatonin

trafalgar law x gf!reader , established relationship

mentions of melatonin consumption

lowercase intended !

sfw, word count: 1.2k

gf cant fall asleep without her law !

its no surprise your captain, and loving boyfriend, was working himself well into the night again. it was just something you’ve come to have to accept. you on the other hand made it a priority to sleep on time. you’ve scolded law time after time just for it to go in one ear and out the other. you always told him its ironic how a doctor cares so little about his own wellbeing. if you were lucky you might get a sigh out of him as a response.

law always knew of your struggles with sleep. it was obvious something was wrong when you spent an hour twisting and turning in bed before falling asleep. he decided to let you try a melatonin gummy. “this will help you sleep, but i dont want you taking it all the time y/n”

you looked at it strangely then mumbled “i doubt this would help..” regardless you still take what your boyfriend offers.

the next morning you woke up completely refreshed. no endless thinking, unnecessary turning, position changing, or waking up a million times a night. needless to say you made it a regular part within your night routine.

some nights (rarely) law would make it into bed with you on time. the change in which the melatonin bought was the most apparent to him. when he saw you take one for a few night straight he felt a bit disturbed, “y/n i thought i told you not to take that regularly. its just for sleep irregularities not to be taken daily.” you rolled your eyes at your dramatic boyfriend, “i have sleep irregularities every night! ill be lucky if i fall asleep within the first hour. with these i fall asleep within 5 minutes!”

law sighed while reaching over and pulling you into bed. he buried his head into your hair and mumbled quietly, “i know but i just wished you didn’t rely on stuff like that..” you giggled and your boyfriends sudden embrace. you traced his chest tattoos while beginning to yawn, “they help me feel sleepy..” before you know it you’ve dozed off leaving your boyfriend awake with concern. he reached over to grab the gummy bottle in order to stambles it away from you to avoid future use.

the next morning you wake up refreshed like always. you go on about your day, have food, do chores, watch your favorite show with bepo, and more. when it comes time to sleep you wish your loving boyfriend a goodnight while he stays in his office, and make your way to your shared bedroom. you made your way through your nightly routine just to not be able to find your sleep aids anywhere. “i swear i put them on the table last night..” you say to yourself in confusion. you start to search for them. you give up 30 minutes into the search and accept defeat for the night, “maybe one night wont be horrible” you think

it was indeed very horrible. every turn, every twist, every thought, every eye movement, every position just pushed you further away from falling asleep. you look at the timer that reads an obnoxiously big ‘3:00AM’.

you walk into his office to see him completely consumed in his books and surrounded with a few coffee mugs. you stand in front of his desk with arms crossed, “baby i need gummies”

law looks up with a raised brow, “what happened to the ones you had?”

the shambled away bottle had completed vanished from his mind until that moment. a small wave of guilt washing over him as he stares at your sleepless figure, and realizing he’s the cause of your current sleep trouble.

you whine while telling him how you searched everywhere yet they’re no where to be found, “and now i cant even sleep! i just wanna fall asleep comfortably like all the other nights …”

guilt now starts hitting him like a tsunami. he puts his book down and puts his notes onto one side of the desk. he immediately shambles you into his lap and holds you close, “you need to find a natural way to fall asleep without relying on that stuff every night. it isnt good for you baby.” it was strange for your boyfriend to be so affectionate, but you didnt fight it. easing into his warmth, his arms, his smell made your eyes feel heavy. he begins to stroke your hair while rambling on about withdrawal symptoms and a bunch of other nerdy facts. you giggle at his passion for what he studies, but you cant deny how insanely boring his mini lectures can be. you yawn and get more comfortable in his arms.

“law can you come to bed..? please?” you look up to meet his sleepless eyes.

he hesitates to respond while glancing back to his work, “i have a lot to do-“

you suddenly cut him off sounding a bit more desperate, “i just want you to help me sleep! i just wanna be in your arms. maybe it will help…” you grip his sleeve not wanting him to reject your offer.

he cant say no when you’re asking for him. he would give you the world if you asked. his books and notes seemed mundane compared to being with you when you needed him. it filled him with a sense of purpose that no ounce of knowledge could give.

he shambles you both to your shared bed. once you realize he’ll be in bed with you tonight you cant help but to pepper his face in kisses ecstatically, “iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouilov-“ another yawn escapes your lips

his lips tug slightly upward as he pulls the blanket to cover you both. he hugs you to his chest and strokes your hair, “its time you go to asleep y/n”

you shake your head slightly and lightly grip his shirt. he looks at you confused, “no? you need to sleep”

an additional yawn escapes your lips while you try your best to fight against them, “i know but if i sleep you might go back and leave me here… i want you to stay and you rarely stay with me..”

another wave of guilt hits the man like a tsunami. he came to the conclusion that he was the reason for your sleepless nights. when he was with you it was as if he became your personal melatonin gummy. you drifted into sleep without any hassle. it was hard to not fall asleep while being in the embrace of your boyfriend.

law mutters unheard apologies to your sleeping self while kissing your forehead, “ill do better. i want you to have the best y/n… i love you-“

a sudden unexpected yawn escapes the doctors lips. it surprised him since he doesnt yawn much (or maybe he just doesnt pay much attention to when he does)

he pulls you closer while getting comfortable. he didnt fight the sleep. the situation worked out for him anyways. soon enough the once sleepless doctor found himself slowly shutting his eyes. his last thought was realizing how much he truly enjoyed you being in his safety and embrace. maybe he should tweak his schedule to include bedtime with you 🩶

[madbard]

Sanctity

A Killer Sans story.

Every child dreamed of the Angel.

When Sans was young, he had imagined it as a skeleton, beaming with all the radiance of the stolen sun. Each evening, he kneeled beside his father and whispered the poetic words of prophecy, voice faltering at first, then growing steady as the tale of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. Later, he would kneel with his brother while his father vanished into the lab. Each night, he dreamed of the moment when the Angel would tear down the barrier, at last letting the bright and deadly sunshine in.

Everything could be attributed to the Angel. If a monster was successful, it was because they had a place in the prophecy, an important role which would contribute to their eventual freedom. If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. They were not the Angel’s chosen and would never be free.

(Did Sans have a place in that prophecy? If he was chosen, then why was he so fragile? Why would it be so difficult for him to make it to that future? Sans had asked his father that one night, after their prayer. Nothing would ever break that silence.)

When Gaster’s final experiment went up in flames, Sans imagined it made a light brighter than the sun. He imagined its light was like the palm of the Angel, taking his father with it – or casting him, finally, into the infinite darkness of the earth. He spread his father’s ashes on the remnants of the lab and then, as an afterthought, on his younger brother’s scarf. He laughed at the funeral, quietly. He shook the chill hands of fear and doubt from his soul. He had faith.

(Some monsters whispered that the prophecy had been interpreted incorrectly. They whispered that the Angel would indeed free them – that their dust would one day mix with the river and thus find its way to the ocean. Sans ignored them as best he could.)

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeleton. But lounging at his post one day in early adulthood, he was surprised to see it take the guise of a child. He was even more surprised when no one else seemed to see it for what it truly was. It turned to him, looked him in the eyes. Then raised a single finger to its lips.

Sans followed the Angel. He watched it navigate through each encounter with kindness and grace. He watched it befriend his brother, the captain of the guard, the royal scientist, and even the king. He watched it destroy the barrier and finally baptize his people in the all-destroying light of the sun. He felt its eyes upon him, and in that moment knew the gaze of something truly unlike himself. Come and see, those eyes said. He saw the prophecy come true.

He stood with his brother in the light of the Angel, the light of the long-awaited sun. For a moment, he thought himself in heaven.

Then he woke in hell.

That first time, he didn’t even see the Angel arrive in Snowdin. His eyelights flickered slowly as he wandered the icy streets in a daze. The air was still, and thick with a scent he refused to recognize. They had escaped, hadn’t they? After years of prayer and service, monsterkind was finally free. His mouth curved around a quiet, desperate prayer. This had to be a dream…

Just outside of Snowdin, he found his brother’s scarf.

Funny, how these things worked. Sans’ first impulse was to find the Angel. Something had gone wrong, certainly – something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But he had seen the Angel treat his brother with kindness. It would have protected him… right?

Perhaps he already knew…

“Sans.”

Sans spun around, gripping Papyrus’ scarf. The Angel stood behind him, eyes almost as wide as its smile. A silver knife glinted in its grip. His whispered prayer froze as his eyes went dark. He stood still.

“what happened?”

“Nothing much. And everything.” The Angel stepped forward. “Give that to me.”

“where’s papyrus?”

“Free.” The Angel took another step forward, and Sans felt a chill creep up his spine. “You remember being free, don’t you?”

“i…”

“Don’t you want to be free again?” This time, Sans didn’t have time to respond. Its knife had already slashed through his chest.

The second time, Sans woke in the early hours of the morning. He took a shortcut into the woods, stepping onto the abandoned path which led to the hidden door. Even so, he didn’t quite understand. Even so, he didn’t quite believe. Fear made a nest in his ribcage.

This time, the Angel killed him first, separating his head from his shoulders, and Sans woke up back at home.

If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. Sans fell again and again. Each time he died, the Angel would say something different, something new. It spoke of the sun’s rays, the way they warmed at first then burned and bleached and ruined. It spoke of the sins of the surface, the suffering of the Underground. It spoke of an endless loop, from which they would never be free. “Better to end it now,” the Angel whispered, wiping blood from its blade as Sans crumpled to the ground.

The loop continued endlessly. Bit by bit, Sans stopped praying.

The loop continued endlessly. He began to fight back.

The loop continued endlessly. The angel’s words changed.

“Do you know the difference between an angel and a god?” the Angel asked once, after Sans dodged its blade. Sweat dripped down his skull, and the air seemed to frost his ribcage as he gasped for breath.

“sorry. i god no idea.” The knife whistled past his ear, and a hushed “angel’s sake” escaped his mouth before he growled and swallowed the word.

“I’ll give you a hint.” It attacked once more, and this time it didn’t miss. It walked over to his dissolving form and whispered to him. “An angel is a servant. A god serves no one.” It stepped back. He died.

This time, the Angel approached him with an altogether different kind of smile.

“But what is a god without an angel?”

Sans said no in every way he could imagine. Loop after loop, death after death. He joked and danced around the question. He sent another attack. At his lowest, he pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Angels live forever.”

“when everyone else is dead?”

“Angels are never alone.”

“i wouldn’t be alone if it wasn’t for you.”

“Angels are powerful. They are beautiful and loved.”

“heh, that’s kind of a loaded comment, isn’t it?”

“Angels know their purpose.”

“what would a lazybones like me want with a purpose?”

“Gods are tireless. I can keep going forever, and nothing will ever change.”

“…”

“You were made to serve me.”

The funny thing about prayer? Repetition makes it meaningless. There is performance to it, certainly. There is what prayer symbolizes, there is the essential power of routine. But once the words become instinctive, the meaning can’t help but diminish. After enough repetition, prayer becomes little more than muscle memory for the weary. And when the weary recite it, how then can they hope to see God?

Sans kneeled in the hallway, bones aching, magic all but spent. Somewhere before this moment lay the memory of the sun, the way he had rested in its blinding light. Even before that, the echoes of evenings spent in prayer with his father, torn carpet barely cushioning his bones. Those memories were lost now, or buried. So many deaths – had there truly been anything before this? Could there ever be anything after? Sans didn’t know. Eventually, he no longer cared.

“and if i said yes?”

It paused and stared at him. A chuckle started low in its throat, stopped just behind its teeth. Sans wished he could feel a twinge of anger or fear at the sound. He just felt tired.

“Just for one round. Just to try something new.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that makes a difference.” The god stepped forward, knife glinting in its hand. Sans closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. Instead, he felt the warm handle slide into his skeletal grip. “Go forth, my angel. Do as your god commands.”

There was a momentary darkness. He woke at the foot of his bed, hands folded. Eyes dark.

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeletal figure. After maturing, he discarded that image as a figment of childhood’s vivid ego. For a moment in time, doesn’t every child worship a god that looks like them?

Sans was not a god. Through the snow, the water and the flame, he became the angel of death. The flash of his knife answered prayers, scattered dust in the river that it may one day reach the ocean. He remained by his god, always. He watched, as if outside himself, as his knife found the faithful and the faithless alike. He watched his brother die.

“That prayer, in his final moments – you know, before he forgave and spared you. Didn’t you teach him that?”

“…”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s hypocritical when you’re the one that killed him.”

“shut up.”

“Ooh.” The god smiled and leaned forward. “But it’s new, isn’t it? Isn’t it better?”

“no. no, it isn’t.”

“Hm.” The god nodded. “Do it again.”

The funny thing about prayer? Its meaning is only found through repetition. Sans scoured through the Underground again and again, knife faltering at first, then growing steady as the path of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. He made a sacrament of death, and his god glutted itself on the dust in his path. He became something truly unlike himself – did that now make him holy?

Holy enough, he decided, waking among flowers with his soul burning bright outside his body, a strange tarry fluid dripping from his eyes. Holy enough for this.

It seemed to know what he was planning. At least, it didn’t look surprised when he brandished his weapon. Nor did it fight back. It only spoke. “You know, you were nothing before me. And you will be nothing after.”

How easy, to kill a god. In the end, how stupidly simple. The Angel laughed as he killed his god with its own gleaming knife, and it laughed too, bright blood staining its teeth.

“i killed you.” The Angel giggled. “does that make me god now?” The god lay still. Its chest had stopped moving a long time ago. The Angel finished his prayer anyway. He had to be certain. “actually, nah, not sure i like that… hey, i’ll figure it out.” The Angel rose to his feet, staggered a bit, then bowed his head. “go to hell.”

What is an angel without a god? From then on, the Angel drifted from world to world. He recited prayer as he always did, utterly divorced from meaning. His knife brought whatever his victims chose, and he learned to see the afterlife in their dimming eyes – the reflection of paradise or punishment, a final acknowledgment of the waiting dark. He laughed in the moment before a creature crumpled to dust – something about it made his soul sting, sharply. It made him feel alive.

Sometimes the Angel would glance over his shoulder, searching for his god’s approval. When he caught himself doing this, his posture would stiffen suddenly, and he would cease his prayer. In those rare moments, a victim might escape. In that way, news spread through the multiverse of his arrival – though ‘Angel’ was not the word they used.

Even to the multiverse’s darkest corners, the Angel slowly became known, and this filled certain people with a cool excitement. Gods watched on and wondered where his allegiance might fall. But this Angel had little patience for deities.

“Aren’t you just fantastic!” The Angel paused, then straightened, turning through the snow of decimated universe to face a small, skeletal figure, dressed in a stained scarf and splattered with ink. “A Sans who no longer believes in anything, but still sees himself as the Angel! A Sans for whom death has become prayer, because prayer never led to anything but death. Odd, definitely – I’d guess your creator was feeling pretty ambitious when they made you…” The skeleton tilted their head. “I’m not sure they succeeded.”

“who are you?”

“Ink! God of Creation. You see, I helped make this universe, so… whoa there, let’s not be too hasty!’ The Angel had raised his knife and taken a smooth step forward.

“god, you say?”

“Hm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said – wow, you’re quick!” Ink swung a massive brush through the air and the Angel’s knife skittered across the brushstroke’s obsidian surface. “Look, sloppy or not I think you came from a place of real excitement and love! I’d like to –”

Ink never finished his sentence. Blinking, the Angel darted around the obsidian shield and raised his knife to stab this god in the chest. He managed to spill a vial of red paint, so much like blood that he smirked, believing for a moment that he had already won. Retribution was brutal and swift.

The Angel no longer felt fear. His god had cured him of that, through the endless resets. Still, Ink’s rapid-fire attacks quickly had him on the defensive, constantly dodging and side-stepping to avoid strike after inky dark strike from the god’s strange weapon. Each time he brandished his knife, he was ambushed by a new attack from a new direction, all coinciding on his form as he struggled to fight back, struggled to survive.

Was this the true power of a god? Something cold settled in the Angel’s soul, causing it to fizzle. He began to seriously consider retreat.

But to where?

The Angel tried to step into another world, but Ink was on him the moment his portal closed, taking advantage of the snow’s blinding afterimage to dig a painted blade into his back. It was dark here, and cold – far colder than Snowdin ever had been. Another blow, and the Angel’s soul shuddered again. This time, he felt fear.

Was this it? Was this where he died?

Another blow.

Perhaps this was right. Perhaps this was what he deserved…

Another blow and sparks flew from his soul, igniting terror and pain. This time the Angel screamed. This time, his mouth shaped a word he’d sworn to never say again.

“ANGEL!!!”

Ink lunged forward, but before his final blow could land something warm and strong gripped the Angel’s ankle and dragged him into the infinite darkness of the earth.

When the Angel woke, he imagined for a moment that he was dead. His sockets could not focus because there was nothing to focus on – the world seemed to have vanished into a brilliant white expanse. He lay there, soul burning, weeping black, emotionless tears. A minute? A year? If the figure hadn’t spoken, the Angel might have lain there forever.

“Greetings, little angel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The Angel leapt to his feet. Across from him stood a strange, dark figure. At first, he might have guessed that it was a skeleton – but a tarry black fluid not unlike the Angel’s tears covered every bit of the monster’s body, leaving only a single teal light to stare into his sockets. The Angel might not have recognized Ink’s power, but he could feel this monster’s strength – could feel it in the way the very air seemed to bristle against his presence. This was no mortal. This was beyond anything the Angel had seen.

“what have you heard?”

“In general? Ah, little one, that would require some time.” A fluid black tentacle slipped from the creature’s spine and wrapped around the Angel’s shoulders, immobilizing him. The Angel was still. “But you were asking what I had heard about you. So I will oblige. I have heard that you are a harbinger of death. Some have gone so far as to call you an angel, but I know better than that. After all, what is an angel without a god?”

“i already killed my god. i don’t need another.”

“I do not desire your worship. Besides, there is a title which suits me far better than god.”

“what do you want?”

“A fighter. Someone with little respect for the likes of Dream and Ink, who would aid me in destroying my enemies.”

“you want me to kill gods for you? i would do that anyway.”

“Well then, little god-killer. I have a place for you, if you’ll take it.”

“…and if i say no?”

“Then I shall leave you in the first universe that opens up beneath our feet. You will be free to cause whatever destruction you wish. But if you choose to follow me – oh, you will see and experience far greater things than you could ever imagine.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Very well. You may return to your dreary existence. But you are limited when you fight alone. You will be more powerful at my side.” The figure extended a tarry hand. “I am not like the other gods. I have no need for angels. But you aren’t exactly an angel anymore… are you?”

The god killer stared at the dark figure, stared at his extended, toxic hand. The dead grass beneath his knees felt like torn carpet. He remembered a different hand, a hollow palm. Prayer was simpler then. The words didn’t yet matter, not like his father’s cool hand on his skull, not like his brother’s chirping voice. The angel wasn’t present in that space. It was only them.

His soul flickered.

“no.” Killer rose to his feet, meeting those deadly teal eyelights. Viscous black fluid burned into his hand. “i’m not.”

The prophecy was fulfilled. The Angel was dead. And for the first time, a prayer was granted.

End credits music:

[zimtameise]

2ha Mo Ran and the little white cat:

[Spoilers for ch. ~97 and onwards]

During the 5 years Chu Wanning is asleep, Mo Ran picks up a little white cat. It happened on the day Mo Ran was lying on the ground in the rain, exhausted after fighting a long battle with a monster in which he got badly hurt, when a little white cat suddenly appeared.

Even after Mo Ran regained enough strength to get up, the cat remained by his side and kept looking at him, so he decided to take it with him. Better than leaving the little thing out in the rain alone.

The first thing Mo Ran does once he's back in his hut, is dry the cat with a towel, before tending to his own wounds. When he finally lies down to rest, the cat lies down beside him, snuggling up to Mo Ran and purring softly.

From that day onwards the white cat keeps tagging along with him, staying by his side. Mo Ran was surprised to notice that the cat that he thought was a street cat, was actually quite a picky eater.

Every time Mo Ran trained outside the cat would sit on a nearby rock and watch him, which reminded him of how Chu Wanning would watch him train. The way the cat acted and looked at him, gave him a weird familiar feeling and made him think of his shizun.

Having company was a nice thing, especially on those nights, when Mo Ran would wake up from nightmares, the presence of the cat calming him down. On days like these it would curl up on his chest. And Mo Ran always would fall back asleep, feeling the warmth of that little cat body.

This way time moved on and the day Chu Wanning would wake up was drawing close.

Mo Ran started to make preparations to return to Shisheng Peak. Obviously, he would take his cat, which he had grown quite fond of over the years, with him. He would show it to Chu Wanning and tell him of the time he spent with it.

The cat and Chu Wanning would surely get along well with each other since their tempers were quite similar. Though he would never dare to imagine Chu Wanning snuggling up to him like his cat likes to do, when enjoying the warmth of Mo Ran's body.

But that dream burst, when on a morning shortly before arriving at Shisheng Peak, Mo Ran wakes up and finds the cat is not sleeping by his side as usual. It's gone. Mo Ran is desperate and spends a lot of time searching for it, but it's like it vanished into thin air.

The white cat's disappearance was as sudden as its appearance in front of Mo Ran. From then on, it had stayed by Mo Ran's side and never suddenly went off somewhere like this. So, after a long time of trying to find his cat and trying to track it with the help of spells in vain, Mo Ran resigns. Maybe the white cat had simply decided its time with him was over now that he's returning to his sect.

Meanwhile at Shisheng Peak Chu Wanning feels like he just woke up from a very long dream in which he was a little white cat that spent his days at Mo Ran's side. What a weird dream. It felt so real, Chu Wanning feels like he can still feel Mo Ran's warmth and hear his soft breathing by his side.

Because of the time spent searching for the cat, Mo Ran ends up being late for Chu Wanning's celebration. During their unexpected reunion in the hot spring that night, Mo Ran misses the chance to tell his shizun about the cat that kept him company and the reason for his late arrival, but he'll surely be able to tell him another time.

(When the right time comes in the future, they'll figure out that the cat had been a part of Chu Wanning's soul staying by Mo Ran's side during the time Chu Wanning was asleep.)

[The End]

[galionne-speeding]

What're the eight gods like in your Sonic Pantheon AU?

Aah thank you so much for asking! I wasn't sure how/when to drop all the character info ; but now I've got the perfect excuse! To make it more digestible to read (and easier on myself) I'll copy/paste my character doc! (with some slight adjustments)

- - -

Name: Boreas (Also known as "The Cursed Winter", "Lord of Ice") Age: 25 Gender: Male (He/They) Species: Megaloceros Emerald: White

Several millennia ago, the last known megaloceros tribe was wiped out by its neighbors who greatly feared its people's ability to control ice and the cold. The sole survivor of the massacre, Boreas, was able to flee and it is believed he found a Chaos Emerald during his escape. Imbued with new power, he would soon return to avenge his people and slaughter those who had taken their lives ; until a small group of warriors was able to seal him deep inside an underground ice lake.

-

Name: Piia (Also known as "The Trickster", "Devil's Child", "The Moon-Kissed Spirit") Age: 8 Gender: Non-Binary (They/Them) Species: Pygmy Rabbit (Albino) Emerald: Light Blue

Piia was only a child when their village was hit by a disastrous harvest ; and they were offered as a sacrifice to the mountain their people worshiped. They were thrown into a deep crevasse and were killed on impact. However, their body had landed next to a Chaos Emerald which seemingly fed so much energy into it, Piia was brought back to life and granted an array of supernatural abilities. The young rabbit would go on to terrorize their old village, until they were tricked by another child into sealing themselves into a small mirror.

-

Name: Zeutaros (Also known as "The Storm", "The Great Dragon", "The Beast") Age: 201 (Early 40s by Zeti standards) Gender: Male (He/Him) Species: Ancient Zeti Emerald: Red

A Zeti Warlord of terrifying renown, it is believed Zeutaros fell to Mobius from the Lost Hex in ancient times. He seemingly found a Chaos Emerald near his landing site which charged him with immeasurable power and soon began ravaging the land in an enraged frenzy. The carnage would only end when Zeutaros accidentally broke the roof of a large underground cave system, where he fell and was buried by the rubble.

-

Name: Mother Agnes (Also known as "The Sunset Witch") Age: 62 Gender: Female (She/Her) Species: Luna Moth Emerald: Yellow

Little is known about Mother Agnes’ past ; only that she suffered greatly in her youth. In her early 60s she opened a boarding school for lost and troubled children which saw great success ; until all of the children put under her care began to vanish. It was soon discovered that she was in possession of a Chaos Emerald, which she was using to put the children into a comatose sleep in order to feed on their dreams. Her school was promptly swarmed by villagers and Agnes was captured and burned at the stake, at which point all of the children woke up. Her medallion is currently displayed in Sunset City’s history museum.

-

Name: Désiré (Also known as "Prince Raj", "The Adored One") Age: 17 Gender: Agender (They/Them) Species: Jacobin Pigeon Emerald: Purple

Born into wealth and nobility, Prince Raj was raised from the youngest age to be the next ruler of the kingdom and believed to have everything one could ever wish for. Yet many ; servants and nobles alike ; had noted how disheartend and dejected the prince always appeared both in public and in private. When the future sovereign turned 17 they were gifted a large purple gem which they took a particular interest in. Not long after this, communication from the kingdom to its neighbors slowly dwindled until it fell completely silent. It was soon discovered that the large purple gem gifted to Prince Raj was in fact a Chaos Emerald ; which they were using to warp the minds of the entire kingdom, so that all alike would see their lives now revolving around their new ruler as they worshipped and adored Raj day in and day out. The spell was only broken when an assassin was sent to enter the palace and successfully killed the prince.

-

Name: Malda (Also known as "The Hermit", "The Pestilence Witch") Age: 51 Gender: Female (She/Her) Species: African Common Toad Emerald: Green

Malda used to be a peaceful and solitary hermit living deep in the forest, making herbal remedies for those daring enough to visit her hut. When a villager went missing after visiting her however, she was quickly accused of causing his disappearance- as well as all others in the area. While historians now believe she was innocent, villagers at the time condemned her to death by drowning in the nearby lake. Not long following her death, the region was hit with several devastating epidemics ; which were only quelled once the lake was drained and The Pestilence Witch’s skeleton placed in an airtight coffin. A Chaos Emerald was found near her remains during the draining process.

-

Name: Manas (Also know as "Royal Seer Manas", "The Devil's Tongue") Age: 57 Gender: Male (He/Him) Species: Manul Emerald: Dark Blue

From a young age, Manas had always displayed the uncanny ability to learn everything from an individual, just by shaking their hand or touching their clothes. As this ability was sharpened over the following years, Manas began to slowly amass followers who were bewildered by his visions and predictions of the future. Little did they know, Manas was granted these abilities by a Chaos Emerald he was keeping safely hidden. As more and more people joined the ranks of his followers, the manul declared himself emperor and set his people on a path to conquer new land ; aided by his visions and knowledge. It is believed this conquest lasted for several decades and saw hundreds of war victories for the manul- until it all fell apart. One of Manas' visions turned out to be inaccurate, leading to a crushing defeat and the loss of nearly three quarters of his army. Disillusioned and under the assumption their ruler had knowingly sent them to their deaths, it is believed the survivors tracked down Manas and brutally murdered him for his failures.

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Name: ∅ / Null Gender: ▇▇▇▇ (It/Its) Species: ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ Emerald: ▇▇▇▇

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[cocrante]

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

warning: it contains significant spoilers, please do not read it unless you have read the third book of "The Trials of Apollo". If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 5]

THAT NIGHT, THE DREAM UNFOLDED DIFFERENTLY. Darkness still enveloped him with its cold cloak, but there was something... strange. He could never quite explain it to others, but the darkness around him was completely different. It was like a screen preventing him from seeing beyond, it wasn't as dense and threatening as the darkness of previous nights. This darkness was protecting him from whatever lurked behind it. Through that veil of darkness, he only sensed vague noises: the clanging of swords, the rippling of waves, the wind against his skin. Then his arms suddenly grew weak, tired, his body felt weary. His head throbbed as if about to split in half; he was exerting too much effort, and soon he would give in–he couldn't tell if that pain truly belonged to him or someone else–then the pain forced him to his knees, the edges of his arms pulsating and burning. He was short of breath, his mouth filled with a metallic taste, a corner of his brain telling him to give in and curl up to let go, but he forced himself to stand back up.

Whatever was happening behind that darkness was affecting him. He couldn't understand what he was dreaming; he saw nothing, didn't know if it was the present, the past, or the future. Then the swords stopped, and he was left breathless.

Nico woke up screaming, sitting up in bed. He coughed a couple of times, feeling nauseous. He touched his face, his arms, his body–everything was in place, yet he still felt that pressure on the hollow of his arms. He touched there, feeling nothing but his skin. Then it was his heart's turn; it was beating excessively hard, but it was still beating. He was fine, he was alive, but the person from the dream perhaps wasn't.

He took a couple of deep breaths, warming and calming himself. When everything returned to normal, he looked with his eyes into the realm of the dead.

If he looked at the present, he would find that soul there; however, he doubted he would see it. It had to be someone he knew; when an acquaintance crossed Charon's gates, he saw them, no matter how much he tried to avoid it. But that didn't work with a stranger; he only sensed their souls, and if he concentrated enough, he could even ignore their passing. Yet he decided to try anyway, to calm himself and reassure himself.

He stared at those new souls that had recently arrived in his father's realm, none had a familiar face, none bore the wounds felt in the dream. He closed his eyes, and the souls disappeared.

He had the bitter feeling that this had yet to happen. Here was the presence of darkness, to prevent him from sensing whoever was behind. "He made his choice" Lachesis's voice echoed warmly in his head—Nico knew he couldn't interfere. It was the choice made by a hero, whoever was behind that veil of darkness had courageously chosen their path to follow.

Everything in that cabin fell silent. Nico knew only two heroes capable of making such a choice. The calm noise of the sea echoed in his ears, the waves crashing against each other. He brought a hand to cover his lips, ordering himself to calm down and not jump to conclusions.

He looked up at the window, the sun was already rising. He hadn't realized he had slept so much that night.

In the central pavilion, there was already a group of campers sitting at the tables, yawning and greeting each other. Nico noticed that Will was already seated, waiting for him with two trays full of food. He looked at those colorful dishes, unable to suppress a grimace. All those dreams had definitely taken away his appetite.

"Another one?" Will asked, seeing the expression on his face.

"This one was different" he told him, keeping his voice low.

It had been months since anyone had dreams in that camp, if word spread that the son of Hades had started having them again, and on top of that, dreamed of ominous omens, it would cause panic among the demigods.

"I have no idea who it was" he sighed, looking at the tray his boyfriend had carefully prepared for him. "But I don't know many heroes who would make such a choice" he darkened, unable to stop thinking about it. Reproaching himself for everything, for not being able to understand it sooner, for not being able to find a solution, to call them or send them any kind of message, for not being able to see them at least one last time.

That thought made him feel even worse. One last time, he repeated in his mind. Disgusted with himself, with his father, with everything related to him. Why did the Fates have to make him see all this? To prepare him? So he wouldn't suffer so much when everything came? The more questions he asked himself, the angrier he became with himself. If Will hadn't been there, holding his hand, he probably would have made the whole pavilion disappear underground.

"Nico" Will called him, sensing a change in his mood.

The son of Hades looked back at those bright blue eyes, reminiscent of the summer sky. How much he wished to simply disappear into his embrace at that moment.

"Everything's okay" he replied, squeezing his hand, mentally thanking him for being there with him. To be strong again for both of them.

That morning, Nico accompanied Will to the infirmary. He wanted to be there to watch him, listen to him talking to himself, humming tunes, documenting how many supplies of medicinal herbs he had left, visiting patients who occasionally crossed the infirmary early in the morning. He wanted to revel in all that, bask in the light his boyfriend emitted and pretend that everything would really be fine.

At lunch, the children of Apollo sat at the Hades table, not asking about the reason for the eerie atmosphere around him. They didn't ask anything of Will either, knowing he wouldn't spill anything. The son of Apollo loved talking about the campers, telling stories that everyone more or less knew at the camp, but he would never speak on Nico's behalf. There were secrets that only the two of them could know.

To break the awkward silence, Austin proposed to let them listen to a new piece he was composing, starting to hum the first notes, adding the words he had composed. Kayla looked at him with shining eyes; those few stanzas had moved her, and so did Will, the son of Hades said nothing, not even listening anymore: he was lost in watching something that wasn't part of their world, keeping an eye on the gates of Charon. He was torn between the two worlds, playing with his food on the plate, eating occasionally and keeping an eye on all the new souls, something that required a great effort from him; he wasn't used to keeping his eyes on the realm of the dead and in the meantime performing normal actions, like eating, to avoid arousing suspicion. Then tired, he closed his eyes, returning to stare at the three children of Apollo arguing about who was the best singer of the week.

 Nico knew he had missed much of the conversation; perhaps it was definitely better that way. As if nothing had ever changed, he continued to eat and ignore the noise of the three.

After lunch, Will followed Nico to the arena; he had wanted to practice with him with the sword for a while. He had to set it aside for a while because of the extra shifts they had put him in the infirmary. Both warmed up before starting, loosening the muscles of their arms and legs, doing exercises for the neck and wrists. At the end of the warm-up, Nico borrowed one of the dummies, telling Will to hit it with all the moves he remembered. Although it had been a while, he was still good—he couldn't expect anything better from the son of the god of the arts.

"I think we can start fighting" Nico concluded, getting into position and waiting for his partner to attack him. He parried all the blows. Will had studied the theory, but it wouldn't help in a real fight. Nico had practice and experience, perhaps among the swordsmen of the camp, he was one of the best to learn from. He had wielded his first weapon the day he arrived at the camp at eleven, they taught him all the basic attacks and defenses, only a few days after his arrival, he had already gone into the outside world and there he had to rely on his agility and reflexes to escape the monsters that smelled his strong smell. He hadn't fought against mythological creatures for several months, and yet his movements were fluid; he didn't even seem to be thinking about what he had to do, and maybe it was really like that. Will wondered what he was thinking or if he was actually thinking about something, he wondered what it must be like to face a monster, wielding only a sword. He lowered his defense for a second, thinking about the battle against the Romans. He looked like a rookie in his first battles, confused and disorganized.

"Will!" Nico called him, wiping his forehead with his shirt. "What's wrong?" he asked, sheathing his sword.

"I was thinking about what a real fight must be like" he confided, a sort of smile appearing on Nico's face.

"Why do you want to know?" he couldn't help but let out a faint laugh.

"I'm just curious, I think" he moistened his lips that had become dry.

"It's just a lot of blood and monster dust, there's nothing fascinating about it" he replied simply, but that wasn't what Will was asking. "I meant, what does it feel like to be facing a monster" he corrected himself. "What do you think about when you fight?" he added, hoping to make himself better understood.

Nico tensed his facial muscles, thinking for a moment. "I think there was a time when I didn't think about anything" he answered, both knowing which moment of his life he was talking about. "I just had a lot of anger and the desire not to die young" he revealed, sighing weakly. "But now things are different" he looked him in the eyes. "When I went into battle against the Titans, I was scared" he revealed. "I was afraid of losing the few people who cared about me" he slowly lowered his gaze, unable to prevent his memory from digging into the past. "I think everyone finds strength in something different. It doesn't matter what, as long as it's strong enough to keep you anchored to life" those words had a bitter taste, he remembered saying similar ones a few years ago betraying a friend's trust. The concept was basically the same. "Anyway, I hope you don't want to go looking for a monster now" he raised his gaze again, looking at him questioningly.

Will shook his head, he wasn't in the right condition to do that. "I just want to be as fluid as you are in your movements" he revealed, blushing a little.

"Then stop thinking and trust your senses" he gave him the most obvious answer that came to mind. Will tried to do as he had said.

They resumed dueling, this time Will was faster in his movements, calmer, responding well and parrying. He wasn't perfect yet, but he was getting better.

As evening fell, they both went to dinner, talking about the fight they had just had. Nico gave him some advice in the meantime. He knew that his was a decidedly atypical technique, no one in the camp fought like him, so he had to be careful to teach him first of all how to fight in an arena and only later would he add those particular movements.

Without thinking, he told him how Jason fought when he was at the camp, about all the excellent advice and directions he had given him. His was also a particular technique, which even the Romans didn't use, but Jason had fought much more than the others outside the camp, it was normal that he was a completely different swordsman.

"Will you teach me those too?" he asked, excited to learn. Nico smiled and nodded.

At the Hades table, the children of Apollo were waiting for them, eager to announce the theme of the songs for that evening. Nico showed more or less interest, trying to take part in the conversation from time to time, giving his opinions on the type of music they had thought of.

"We changed the sound but the rest of the lyrics remained the same" Austin explained, singing a piece of that song, tapping his hand on the table to keep the beat. Will followed suit a moment later, joining the next piece. Nico watched them with a smile on his lips: dinner and a show, he couldn't have asked for anything better.

That evening at the bonfire, the children of Apollo sang their repertoire of songs, adding some new ones improvised on the spot. Sometimes the choirs stopped to catch their breath, letting someone else entertain the campers. Often, it was the children of Hermes to fill the silences, entertaining everyone with scary stories or tragic dramatic stories. The demigods held their breath, the atmosphere around them had become terrifying. Will squeezed his boyfriend's hand, he knew it was a made-up story, but the way the boy told it was so good that he still shivered. Nico smiled, letting go of his hand, preferring to keep him close by placing his hand on his waist. Both blushed, and Will leaned closer.

A few hours later, the demigods dispersed, each going to their own cabin. Before leaving, Will said goodnight to Nico with a kiss, wishing him a good night. Nico retraced the path he made every night, climbing towards his dark cabin.

He entered, the air inside seemed to have gotten colder. He put on a heavier pajama, looking at his bed with disgust, but still approaching it because he was too tired. He lay on the soft mattress –sighing heavily– letting himself be enveloped by the warmth of the blankets and the black cloak of the night. At that moment, he felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach, the same unmistakable sensation he had when Bianca was about to die.

He wanted to think that he had been influenced by that story too, there was nothing to worry about. He took the drops of that remedy from the bedside table, letting three fall on his tongue. He rested his head on the pillow, closing his eyes, and before he knew it, he was already asleep.

prologue

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[pinkthick]

Maybe a monster

Pairing: Simon Petrikov & Kid!Marceline

Simon Petrikov/Betty Grof

Summary: Marcy is hungry and Simon started to notice that they are running low on supplies.

Simon looked out the broken windows and watched the moon, its silvery glow casting ghostly shadows in the room. Simon couldn’t help but be captivated by the celestial beauty of the night, his red eyes were fixed on it and he quickly became lost in thought. The night was always a time of reflection for him, a time when he could let his guard down and allow the memories to wash over him. Memories of another time.

He remembered stargazing with Betty, their fingers intertwined as they shared dreams of future together.

“We should do this more often” Betty murmured somewhat shyly to Simon, who smiled beneath the cover of darkness.

The two lovers were in an empty everglade near the edge of the city, outside the metropolitan area. It was filled with with tall grass and equally tall white flowers scattered all across the field. There was the occasional flicker of a passing firefly and large, leafless trees. It was very aesthetically pleasing—and even more so at night, when the glowing moon was out and there were luminescent stars sprinkled all across the blanket of sky. The pair were on their backs in the grass, staring at the mesmerizing sky and the somewhat stupefying stars. It was rare to see so many in one place back at their apartment — but they were beautiful nonetheless.

“I’m glad we did come here.” And at that Betty rolled her eyes. It was hard work to even make Simon agree to go outside now. His desire to stay indoors during the day was understandable, given the risks he faced under the harsh sunlight, but it was his refusal to venture outside even after dark that made Betty worry and it was also frustrating her to no end. He had become a recluse, spending his nights awake and active but avoiding the world beyond their front door so of course Betty had to change that.

Even if she had maybe forced her fiancée out of the house.

Maybe.

He turned over in the grass, startling a nearby group of moths, and plucked one of the ivory daisies from the grass. Then he turned back toward his partner, smoothing her hair back behind her ear, and gently placing it in her hair.

Betty's eyes widened, and she slowly reached her hand up and grazed the flower with her fingertips. “Thank you.”

She was beautiful.

The moon was mesmerizing on her light pale skin and lit up her enchanting black eyes in a way that made his heart leap —and aside from being absolutely hypnotizing, she was someone to confide in when he felt like had nobody. Simon felt as if he would never be able to comprehend how he had such a perfect person as a lover —the way she made him feel was like nothing he had ever felt before. The whole world just vanished whenever he even glanced into her face.

But those moments felt like a lifetime ago, a distant past that was almost too painful to remember.

Simon sighed deeply, his breath forming a visible cloud in the cold night air. He missed Betty more than words could express, and the ache in his heart seemed to intensify with each passing night. But he couldn't afford to dwell on the past, not when he had Marceline to protect and care for. A bittersweet smile played on Simon's lips as he looked at the little girl, who was sleeping peacefully. Maybe he could take her stargazing somewhere.

But despite his best efforts to stay awake and keep watch, his eyelids grew heavy, and he slowly drifted back into sleep.

Meanwhile, Marceline, still a child in many ways, had a restless slumber. She woke up to find Hambo, her beloved stuffed toy, nestled beside her. She carefully disentangled herself from Simon's cloak and a faint smile crossed her face as she clutched the tattered toy for comfort.

Quietly, she got up, careful not to disturb Simon's rest. She noticed that Simon had draped his cloak over her before he fell asleep. Grateful for his warmth and protection, she decided to return the favor. With a mischievous grin, she tiptoed over to Simon and looked down at him as he snored softly. With a gentle touch, she placed the cloak near him, ensuring that he would stay comfortable as well.

Marceline couldn't help but giggle as she watched Simon snore softly in his sleep. His usually serious and stoic demeanor was momentarily replaced by the vulnerability of slumber. She leaned in closer, her black eyes sparkling with amusement.

"You're making funny noises sometimes," she whispered with a mischievous grin, her words barely audible.

As she continued to watch him sleep, her gaze lingered on his mouth. Marceline had noticed something peculiar about Simon on several occasions, something she couldn't quite explain. She could have sworn that at times, when he was angry or agitated, his canines seemed to elongate into something resembling fangs. It was an unsettling sight, one that she couldn't ignore, though she had never dared to mention it to him directly.

Even now, as he slept, she couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in his teeth. They weren't the same as a vampire's fangs(?), but they were definitely sharper than any human's. Marceline furrowed her brows, deep in thought. "Weird," she muttered to herself, her curiosity piqued.

But she decided not to disturb Simon's slumber further, returning to her makeshift bed, clutching Hambo tightly and just as she sat down, she heard Simon yawn.

The morning sun had already begun to filter through the cracks in the walls of their makeshift sanctuary and Simon stirred awake. He stretched, feeling a little more rested despite the troubled dreams that he had during the night. As he looked around the room, he spotted Marceline on her makeshift bed, wide awake and clutching Hambo.

"Morning, Marcy," Simon greeted her with a warm smile, his black eyes softening as he took in the sight of the young half-demon girl. Her presence always brought a sense of peace to his turbulent existence.

"Morning, Simon!" Marceline replied cheerfully, her eyes bright with energy.

Soon enough Simon got up from his spot and moved toward her, the cloak he had draped over her earlier now resting on his shoulders. The sun was rising, and he needed to shield himself from its harsh rays.

As he approached Marceline, he asked, "How long have you been up?" He was always concerned about her safety, especially when she was awake before him. He didn’t know what she could do while he was asleep. She could go through the whole building without him.

But she didn’t and she won’t. She’s a smart girl.

Marcy won’t leave him like she did.

Marceline shrugged, her small shoulders lifting as she replied, "Not too long. I just woke up a little while ago." She then grinned mischievously. "Your snoring woke me up, though."

Simon chuckled at her teasing and tousled her hair affectionately. "Sorry about that," he said with a playful glint in his eye. "I'll try to be quieter next time."

“You’re silly.” she smiled and leaped towards him without any reservations.

Even though he hardly feels Marceline’s full-force hug hit him, he still lets out a small remark "Take it easy, Marcy." Simon chuckled slightly.

Soon enough, Marceline's stomach rumbled and she looked at Simon with a playful grin. "I'm hungry, Simon. What do you say we have some breakfast?"

Simon knew that his vampiric nature made human food virtually useless to him. He always insisted he wasn't hungry, but Marceline had made it her mission to make sure he at least tried to eat something. Maybe because she didn’t know that he was actually a vampire.

Details.

With a sigh, he relented and stood up. "Alright, Marcy. Let's see what we have left.

“Something good I hope." They had been rationing their supplies for a while, and the pickings were slim. Marceline watched as Simon rummaged through their meager food stores, eventually finding some canned food that had miraculously survived the ravages of time. He looked at the label, and it wasn't the most appetizing choice, but it was sustenance.

“Simon, I found something too!” Marceline declared as she held a wooden toy in her hand.

Simon watched her with a mixture of amusement as he made a makeshift opener and said “I don’t think we can eat that.”

“Maybe we can!” Marceline beamed with satisfaction at her words.

He opened the can and scooped some of the unappetizing contents onto a plate, trying to hide his reluctance. Was it even safe for her to eat this? “You try first. Try to eat the wooden soldier.”

“No. You’re trying first!”

“Nu uh.” But Simon did take a hesitant bite of the canned food (not Marcy’s wooden soldier) and while it wasn't the most delightful meal he had ever had, it hasn’t gone bad. Marceline watched him closely, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Is it good, Simon?" she asked, excitement bubbling up as she awaited his response.

“It’s decent.” And that was enough for Marceline. She wasted no time as she dug into the food. Her eyes lit up with satisfaction, and she nodded her approval with her mouth full. "Mmm, it's good!"

He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "I'm glad you like it, Marcy." Simon glanced over at Marceline as she ate, but his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of their dwindling supplies. He had been periodically checking their stores, and the situation was becoming more dire with each passing day. There wasn't much left. As Marceline enjoyed her meal, Simon quietly stood up and went to a corner of the room where they kept their remaining supplies. His face grew serious as he took stock of what was left. It was clear that they couldn't rely on their current location much longer.

Simon took out his map and spread it out before him, tracing his fingers over the various towns and landmarks near their current location. As Marceline finished her meal, she approached him with Hambo clutched in her arms, her expression a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. "Marcy," Simon began, "what if we go on a little adventure?" He looked up from the map to meet her gaze.

Marceline’s brow furrowed, and she seemed hesitant. "Again? But I like this building. I thought we were staying here for real."

He reached out to ruffle her hair affectionately. "I know you like it here, and it's nice, but we're almost out of food, Marcy. We can't stay here forever. We'll just go on a little journey to find more supplies, and we'll come back. How does that sound?"

Marceline sighed, her gaze fixed on the map as she considered his proposal. Finally, she nodded, albeit with a hint of reluctance. "Okay, Simon. But we have to come back here, okay? I like this place."

Simon smiled and pulled her into a gentle hug. "We'll come back, I promise.”

Maybe he shouldn’t make promises he can’t keep

Notes: Whoever read this. Hope you enjoyed!

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6/Part 7/Part 8/Part 9/Part 10/?

Masterlist

[skirm-the-terrible]

D&D CHARACTER TIME

Figadaretti “Fig” Contranagiaccidarerria III, human paladin under the Oath of Devotion. More about him under the cut…

A bit of context: our campaign, Spellsong, is on hiatus this summer until we get back to college in August. One of our players schemed up a one-shot that he worked with our DM on and this weekend we pulled our party from different parts of the country under one roof to play it.

One problem: my character, Morigan Merot, is quite dead as of our last session before the summer!! And I didn’t want to introduce my new character until we’re back to the official campaign, since the one-shot was a bit further along in the timeline. So the arbiter of the one-shot created Fig, a paladin with amnesia who remembers nothing of his backstory but knows the party as if he were part of it, even though none of them remember him.

The BBEG of the one-shot was a false hydra, which for those who like me didn’t know, fucks around with memories of those they devour and everyone who knew them—you see where this is going. The hydra was living in a haunted house attraction in a town the party was passing through which upon Fig’s arrival they decided to investigate.

The house was comprised of various wacky and personalized trauma rooms which our temp DM took far too much joy in designing! These below doodle is Fig after enjoying the Chinchilla Room. This was a room made entirely of living chinchillas. Until we ran across it and some of them were less living. There was also a journal in the center of the room which belongs to Fig and once opened, restored his and the party’s memories of him. He had been with them the whole time!! Just like in season 5 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Here is a Fig post-Chinchilla Room:

But later, when we ended up in a room with a false perfect reality and one of our party cast dispel magic, Fig began to flicker with the rest of the illusion. Our sorcerer, in a moment of panic, stated what was on everyone’s mind now: “Fig… I don’t think you’re real.”

He’s feeling normal about that revelation.

Cue the personalized trauma rooms, when a few of our party including Fig meet our foe face-to-face, revealing it as a false hydra disguised as a man with, quote, “slicked-back hair and weirdly thin face-cheeks!” The hydra reveals to Fig that he was devoured the night before, and returns the memories of it happening.

At last, the boss fight. This was a predictably long fight so I won’t go into detail, but Fig managed to damage the hydra severely near the end. However, none of us had the power to kill it for good, until Fig feels a tug. He is undead, a ghost of sorts, and has the power to possess the weakened creature. The only thing powerful enough to defeat it… would be itself.

Fig turns to the party, his fate clicking into place as he searches for what to say to them, his dearest friends for the past year, who had not even known he existed when they woke up this morning. “It was… it was nice being remembered by you all.”

He vanishes, and the party watches as the false hydra begins to convulse, swallowing its remaining arms and imploding in on itself. Then, they wake up in the rubble of a house, no memory of how they got there or what has happened since the five, not six, of them checked into the hotel a couple days ago.

Yeah! That’s Fig! And the story of how the players of Spellsong were broken for a second time in as many sessions. I gotta stop playing guys who are doomed by the narrative. That’s a joke give me more guys who are doomed by the narrative immediately.

And give Fig another salami-mayo-pickle sandwich for his agonies <3

I’ll do more more D&D posting in the future if you guys are interested (pleasepleasepleasepleaseple)

@electric-specter & @nebby-stardust here’s to another year of Spellsong!!

[olympians367]

How can one minor change affect the future?

One morning, Severus Snape wakes up to find an infant on his doorstep with only a note to explain its appearance. A friend of his - one that had gone missing after Hogwarts and presumed dead - was begging him to care for her daughter, a girl who had caught the attention of the Dark Lord.

Unbeknownst to him, he has just been entrusted with the responsibility of raising the daughter of Poseidon, a child whose powers transcends that of Heracles; a child who has been fated to either save Olympus . . . or destroy it. A child like this being raised and taught by a cold and emotionally reserved man, who knows the Dark Arts and potion-making like the back of his hand, could have a less than favorable outcome.

After eleven years of being isolated from the wizarding world, Evangeline is starting her first day at Hogwarts, and is about to make a shocking discovery.

[Chapters are between two to five thousand words long.]

Chapter Three - First Week at Hogwarts

On the official first day of school, Evangeline woke up bright and early, bouncing out of bed and changing into her Gryffindor uniform. She brushed her hair, making sure not a strand was out of place, and that she had everything she needed tucked away neatly into her school bag. After that, Evangeline made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  

On her way to her first class, Evangeline passed by her fellow Gryffindors, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, getting threatened by the caretaker, Argus Filch, for attempting to enter the out-of-bounds corridor. Having met the caretaker and engaged in a somewhat delightful conversation after being caught giving water and a good scratch behind the ear to his cat, Mrs Norris, on her way to breakfast, Evangeline managed to convince Filch not to punish the boys. As the two made their way to Evangeline’s first class, chatting about family and problem students, Ron and Harry trailed behind with confused expressions. They had heard Filch was an unpleasant man and that many wanted to kick his cat, but now they wondered how true it was. 

Their theory was quickly squashed when the caretaker, not so subtly, advised Evangeline to stay away from them as she was “too nice of a girl to be cavorting with hooligans such as those two”.

Evangeline politely nodded with a small smile, saying, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” before entering her class, quickly followed by Ron and Harry, who received a distrustful glare from Filch. 

Using the directions her father gave her, Evangeline didn’t have as terrible a time navigating Hogwarts as the other first years. She knew about the stairs that would lead to somewhere different on a Friday and the ones with a vanishing step, the doors that you had to open in a specific way and the ones that aren’t doors at all. Evangeline did her best to remember everything, not be late to class, and take excellent notes - seeing as she’s in Gryffindor, she figures she’ll have to do a lot to stay in her father’s good graces. 

The last thing Evangeline wanted was to be on the other end of his sharp tongue.

Her most boring class was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns - he had a very dull, monotone voice that left everyone falling asleep. Evangeline’s father had told her that the professor had been extremely old when he fell asleep in front of a staffroom fire two centuries ago, and it surprised everyone when he left his body to continue teaching. Her father had warned her to not expect much from Professor Quirrell’s class as, in his words, Quirrell is a coward who knows nothing about the Dark Arts. Evangeline assumed he just hated the professor for getting the job he wanted, but that was partially the case – Quirrell’s lessons were a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, he turned pink and started talking about the weather when Seamus asked how he defeated a zombie, and Evangeline could swear there was another reason as to why he wore his turban other than it being a gift from an African prince. Evangeline’s favorite class was Transfiguration, right after Charms and Astronomy. Professor McGonagall reminded her of her father, except she was much more fair. After having them take complicated notes, she gave them a match and had them attempt to turn it into a needle. By the end of that lesson, Evangeline and Hermione were the only ones who made any difference to their match.

The day Evangeline dreaded the most finally came: Friday. 

Now, for most people Friday is the most wonderful day of the week, as it signifies the beginning of two days of relaxation before being thrust into stressful long hours; but for Evangeline, it marks the day where she has to go to Potions and face her father, the formidable authoritarian, Severus Snape.

“Double Potions with the Slytherins,” said Ron, breaking Evangeline out of her anxiety-filled trance. His statement just made her more worried. “Snape’s Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them — we’ll be able to see if it’s true.”

“He does favor them,” Evangeline firmly states, her head leaning against her hand as she massages her temple. Her other hand caresses her locket, her fingers running over the snake engraved on it. 

“How do you know?” Ron asks curiously, turning his head towards her. 

“I - I’ve seen him be less strict with them.” She immediately stuffs her face with egg and sausages to avoid continuing the conversation. 

“Wish McGonagall favored us,” said Harry. Professor McGonagall was the Head of Gryffindor House, but that didn’t stop her from giving them a huge pile of homework that Evangeline finished just to stop thinking about opening the letter her father sent her. 

The moment Evangeline remembered the letter she had been refusing to open, the mail arrived. Her barn owl, Doúkissa, swooped down, landing beside her plate and dropping three letters onto her lap – one from her mother, one from her brother, and one from her father. She stared tentatively at her father’s letter, which sat on top of the pile, staring back with her name written in cursive black ink. Glancing towards the High Table to make sure Snape wasn’t looking, Evangeline slips her father’s letter into her bag, pushing it towards the bottom, where it’d end up rumpled. 

Evangeline has been avoiding her father for the entire week. Every time she saw him in the hallway, she’d duck down in a crowd of students, go down another corridor, or just turn around and find another way to class.

In the back of her mind, she knows it isn’t right to ignore her father like this. Before Hogwarts, the two were like peas in a pod, and no one would be wrong in assuming Evangeline was a daddy’s girl. She was able to trust him with anything, to go to him for anything, and expect that he would always be there for her, so how can she just ignore him like this? 

Guilt welled up inside of her, simmering and bubbling with the notion of a possibly destroyed bond - either from her ignoring him or him hating her for being a Gryffindor. 

The guilt grew as she stood up to leave for his class and suddenly remembered one of the nicknames he referred to her by. “My little miracle”.

Trailing behind the other first-year Gryffindors and Slytherins, Evangeline made her way down to the dungeons, going as slowly as she could so that the front seats would all be taken. As she expected, they were. Evangeline hurriedly took the seat in the far corner, away from the door, placing her notebook, quill, and ink in front of her before putting her head down and waiting for Professor Snape to arrive. 

In just a few seconds, the class quieted down as the professor arrived, swinging the door open and sternly stating, “There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class.”

Evangeline lifted her head, but not enough to sit upright. Her eyes glanced up at her father, who stood at the front of the class by his desk and towered over the first-years. Staring up at him, she could feel her distress rising. The paranoia eating away at her as she imagined being dumped at an orphanage by the end of the school year, or worse, sometime during Christmas Break. 

Evangeline’s gaze turned to her notebook, forcing herself to focus on the blue horizontal lines, red vertical lines, and trying not to cry; being glad her long hair would hide the tears that hydrated her eyes. 

“As such, I don’t expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few - “ Snape paused in his sentence, his dark eyes having spotted his daughter sitting in the far corner with her head down. Almost immediately, he knew something was wrong. “ - who possesses the predisposition,” he continued, his gaze hardly wavering from his child, “I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death.” 

“Then again,” Evangeline froze, her grip tightening on the sleeve of her robe as she firmly shut her eyes, “maybe some of you have come to Hogwarts in possession of abilities so formidable that you feel confident enough to not pay attention.”

She didn’t look up, hoping he wasn’t talking to her and she wouldn’t end up embarrassing her family further by dropping like a stack of cards. For her sake, she was right. 

“Mr Potter, our new celebrity.” Draco Malfoy and his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, sniggered behind their hands, knowing Harry was about to have a very bad morning. “Tell me what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?” 

Hermione’s hand shot up into the air, but Snape waited for Harry to answer. Harry glanced at Ron with a confused look, but didn’t answer. 

“You don’t know? Let’s try again. Where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?” 

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry softly replied.

“And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” 

Hermione raised her hand so high it almost touched the ceiling. “I don’t know, sir,” Harry said again. 

“Pity. Clearly, fame isn’t everything, is it, Mr Potter?”

“Clearly, Hermione knows,” Harry cheekily replies, irritated at being expected to know things like that on his first day of class. “Seems a pity not to ask her.” Yes, he had looked through his books, but did Snape truly expect him to remember everything he read?

His reply garnered chuckles from a few of his peers. “Silence,” Snape ordered, glaring at Harry. That boy is just like his father, he thought angrily. Seeing that Hermione still had her hand up, he snapped at her, “Put your hand down, you silly girl.”

Then, Snape’s gaze slowly shifted to his daughter. Evangeline was daydreaming at this point, having gotten distracted by a particular block in the wall that she had thought looked like a face. Now, she was staring intently at a strand of her hair, wondering if it was much curlier than the others before checking if there were any dead or split ends. 

“Ms Prince,” Snape’s sharp tone made Evangeline’s heart skip a beat. She moved her hair behind her ear and looked up at the professor. “Tell me, where would I find a bezoar?”

“I-in the st-stomach of a goat,” she answered, shrinking under everyone’s gaze. 

A prideful smirk tugged at Snape’s lips. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“A sleeping potion.”

“Name?”

“Draught of Living Death.”

Harry’s eyes slightly widened in admiration as he sat up to get a better look at Evangeline, a smirk tugging at his lips. Snape noticed this, and could feel his blood boil at the thought of this boy fancying and pursuing his daughter. 

Taking a few steps forward, he blocks Harry’s view of Evangeline. “And now, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? Potter was incapable of answering with anything other than impudence, which has now lost your House five points. Surely, you can win those points back.”

Evangeline gulps, lightly nodding as she thinks over the question. However, after a few minutes, she found her train of thought derailing and bustling to another station. Snape recognized the far-off look on his daughter’s face - something he had grown used to over the years - and he hoped she wouldn’t get it in her other classes. 

When it was clear that Evangeline had entirely forgotten what Snape had asked her, he tapped her notebook and repeated his question, “Difference between monkshood and wolfsbane.”

“Huh? Oh, right. There’s no difference. They’re the same plant and go by a third name, aconite – that came out ruder than I expected.” 

Snape suppressed the urge to praise her. “At least one of you Gryffindors has some intelligence. Five points to Gryffindor.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bell rings, signaling the end of class. 

Evangeline began packing up her bag, the voice in her head reminding her that she has the afternoon off. One of the places she had been meaning to see in Hogwarts was the Black Lake. She had always liked bodies of water for some reason; they made her feel safe and strangely . . . powerful. Unfortunately, her hopes of spending the rest of her afternoon sitting by the Black Lake were crushed when she heard, “Please stay after class, Ms Prince. We have much to talk about.”

“I apologize, professor, but I have a lot to do,” she nervously laughs, shouldering her bag. “Mountains of homework, and –”

“I insist,” Snape firmly says, his stern tone not going unheard as he blocks her path. “If you use your time wisely, you’ll have all of Saturday and Sunday to finish your homework.”

“Yes, but - “

“Let me rephrase, Evangeline Prince. As your professor, I am insisting that you stay after class to have a discussion with me about your recent behavior - “ he leans down, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper “ - and as your father, if you don’t wish to remain grounded for the foreseeable future, I advise that you stay. Am I clear?”

“Yes, fath - I mean, sir.” 

As the last of the students filed out of the classroom, the Slytherins taunting words about how in trouble Evangeline was dying down, Snape guided his daughter out of the classroom and to his office. She stood in front of the round table, looking at the shadowy shelves that housed more of her father’s collection of jars filled with slimy, revolting things. 

Snape lit the fireplace, waving his wand in a quick motion. A wooden chair slid across the floor, stopping next to the one in front of the fireplace. “Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the chair. 

Evangeline obediently sat down, placing her bag at her feet and messing with the strap. This was a habit she’d do when she was bored or nervous, and right now, nervousness was all she could feel. Time seemed to slow as Snape brewed and poured a cup of tea, adding Evangeline’s anxiety medication to one of the brews. The sound of the spoon clinking against the cup as he stirred was all Evangeline could focus on until her father would soon inform her she wasn’t his daughter anymore, that he hated her, that he now thought less of her for being a Gryffindor, and that she was – 

Teacup in hand, Snape became increasingly worried at her fast-paced, shaky breathing and how tightly her trembling hands held onto the strap of her bag. He could just tell she was on the verge of a panic attack. 

He pressed it gently to her lips. “Drink this - it’s your medicine.” 

Snape made sure his daughter drank every last drop, and made a mental note to ask his wife to send over all of Evangeline’s medication as she’d need it after all.

Snape sat down in his chair, waiting for the medication to take its effects before he spoke with her about the situation at hand. Once Evangeline’s breathing had slowed and she seemed a bit calmer, Snape asked in a clipped tone, “Where were you on Monday?” 

She thought for a moment. “I had double Herbology and Charms. Why?” 

“You had a two hour break between classes and dinner, did you not?”

Not knowing where this conversation was heading, Evangeline answered with a confused, “Yeah?”

“So, you had time to come visit me?”

Evangeline was now more confused, and while it was plain on her face, her father mistook it for guilt. Her stammered response was quickly cut off by, “I knew I should’ve expected you weren’t coming when I didn’t get a response from you, but I assumed you were just too tired and had simply forgotten. Still, I expected you to at least pop in. Care to explain what kept you?”

“I - I had a lot of work to do,” she lied. 

Snape narrowed his eyes, feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief that his daughter would dare lie to him. “Really? So much so that you couldn’t spare a minute to spend time with your own father?” Evangeline doesn’t answer, looking away to stare at the ground. He sighs. “You’ve been avoiding me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” 

Evangeline wasn’t being very subtle with how she avoided her father. 

Snape kneeled beside Evangeline, gently grabbing her chin and turning her head to face him. “Evangeline, darling, look at me,” he says, his voice low and soft, a stark contrast from how he normally spoke. “What is the matter? Don’t tell me you’re fine, I know something is wrong. This - this thing you’re doing - avoiding me - it is unlike you. Did those nasty Gryffindors do something to you? Did they hurt you? I swear if those brats touched a hair on your head –”

She shakes her head. “No! No, they didn’t do anything.”

“Are you sure? Even if they used their words, I’ll make sure they get detention and regret insulting you.”

“Yes, I’m sure. I - “ Evangeline couldn’t get her words out. She wasn’t sure how to tell him how she felt, how she was afraid he’d abandon her.

Suddenly, Snape grabbed his daughter’s face, forcing her to meet his eyes before firmly objecting, his harsh tone barely hiding the hurt he felt, “I would never abandon you.” 

Evangeline’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, wondering how he figured out what was bothering her without her saying so. Then, it hit her. Her father was a skilled legilimens. He didn’t use the skill often, but if he felt she, her brother, or her mother was hiding something important from him, he would take a quick peek before deciding if he should intervene. 

His grip on her face softened, his thumb beginning to stroke her cheek as the pain became as clear as day in his eyes. Snape’s hands moved to grasp her small ones, his voice much softer now with a hint of fear peeking through, “What in the name of Merlin put that dreadful thought into your head?”

“I - I thought you’d start hating me after the hat sorted me into Gryffindor,” she answered sadly, her voice cracking in the middle of her sentence. “I thought you’d get rid of me.”

“What? No, no, never.” Snape wraps his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair. “I could never get rid of you. Especially for such a ridiculous reason as you getting sorted into Gryffindor.”

“But you hate Gryffindor,” she sobs into his chest. 

“Yes, but not you,” he emphasized, caressing her cheek “There is a difference, Evangeline. I could never hate you, even if you are a Gryffindor.”

After a few minutes, Evangeline mumbled, “The hat said I wasn’t suited for Slytherin.” Her voice was so soft that Snape wasn’t sure if he heard her. 

“What was that?”

“The hat said I wasn’t suited for Slytherin. It said I was more of a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.”

“I’m sor–” Snape pulled her away from him, wiping away her tears with his thumb. Confusion welled up inside of him, followed by a simmering frustration at the absurdity of what he was hearing. “What do you mean not suited for Slytherin? And . . . Hufflepuff? You could’ve been placed in Hufflepuff, and the Sorting Hat decides bloody Gryffindor as your House?”

Snape abruptly stands up, pacing around the room as he grumbles under his breath, cursing out the Sorting Hat and its “foolish” decision. He wondered aloud how his daughter could not be suitable for Slytherin. He complained how Hufflepuff would’ve been a better choice for his “precious, little girl,” due to their dedication, kindness, and loyalty, and he firmly believed Evangeline would’ve also flourished in Ravenclaw. “I doubt gymnastics and all those sports you played had anything to do with it,” he mumbled bitterly, “none of them had anything to do with wizardry. I bet that stupid, conniving, insipid hat wanted to ruin my life all over again, just as it did when - “

He paused when he realized he wasn’t making the situation any better by ranting. Evangeline’s sobs, while quiet, were heavy, and she cried more tears than she could wipe away. Snape rushed to her side, cradling her in his arms and consoling her as best he could. 

“I am not angry that you are in Gryffindor,” he reminds her, kissing her forehead. “I do not hate you, and I will never abandon you. I realize there are worse things than you being placed in Gryffindor, my dear.” Evangeline let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against her father’s chest as her worries slipped away. 

The two stayed on the floor until dinner. For that entire time, Snape didn’t let go of his daughter and didn’t stop reassuring her that he didn’t care that she was in Gryffindor, that she mattered more to him than his hatred for a House, and that she’d always be his daughter. 

[lucielxbe]

𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐠𝐞𝐧. ♰⸝⸝

among the tabs filled with class notes, study material and academic journals; one of them was next gen season two’s auditions. it was surprisingly, truly. it lingered in luciel’s mind for days, enough for him to sign up for it. was it pure curiosity, or the desire to perform on stage? he wasn’t sure. it could be one of them, both or them, or something else — he won’t know. all he knows is that he has to pause a semester to prepare for the unknown future.

survival programs. how exciting.

maybe, he would feel something.

before luciel gets the message that he’s passed the first stage, he’s already prepared to wander into a new place.

—

there was a time when he entered the scene of performances with the piano, so luciel wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with having cameras pointed towards him alongside countless pairs of eyes watching his every move. back then he gradually filled the air with liebesleid, love’s sorrow. in those four minutes of playing, he felt alive, as if his wings could take him to anywhere in the world. an unforgettable divine feeling that withered the moment it bloomed.

luciel finds it comedic, because this time he’s decided to sing black sorrow in sixty seconds. yet another piece with ‘sorrow’ in its title.

he introduces himself first. he didn’t seemed to be the most confident nor charismatic individual amongst the others, but he spoke comfortably, as if there wasn’t any weight on his shoulders. he’s also made sure to present a lovely, charming smile on his face all the while.

in no time, luciel stands still in front of the mic, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. the music begins. his hands goes around behind the mic, clasping them as if in a prayer while holding it. when he starts singing, only then did he gaze at his audience, and the atmosphere around him shifts into a sombre mood.

he starts off a little hoarse but picks himself back up quickly after. all the while there’s a little smile on his face as he attempts to convey a sentimental story through his vocals.

towards the end, for a brief moment — his smile cracks into desperation, all for the world to see,

"to me, you are my black sorrow."

his right hand reaches out and points to the sky. the story ends in sixty seconds. luciel gives a bow to conclude as he awaits the next segment, as if the emotions from before vanished without a trace.

while he expected a qna section of sorts, he was still surprised by random questions that came to him.

what would you do if you won ₩1,000,000,000 (~$750,000) in the lotto?

luciel was a little speechless at this, of all questions — they went with this for him? money has never been a problem for him, and honestly he would be cheeky and talk about how he doesn’t needs to win the lotto to get that amount… but he shouldn’t, he’s in front of a camera, and he knows what not to say. “charity. donations for orphanages, animal shelters and the like.” it was a really generic answer, but he meant it.

what was the first thing you thought about when you woke up this morning?

he thinks for a while before looking at the camera. “i need my coffee… that’s it. i drink a lot of coffee, and i often brew them for myself. i have a barista license too.”

what two things do you consider yourself to be very bad at?

“i’m perfect at everything, is there anything i’m bad at?” a laugh comes right after, clearly looking like he was making a fun joke. “i’m bad at handling the cold, i get sick often during the winter. i just don’t like the cold. i’m also not great at taking selcas, i could be harsh on myself but i always feel like something’s wrong with them… do i need to take classes for that?”

what style of music/performance suits you best and why?

after all those random questions, one about music finally came. “i grew up playing classical instruments and listening to them, i even used to participate in a piano competition. classical music conveys dramatic emotional stories that comes from the heart, it’s like poetry in the form of music. so i believe that kind of genre suits me,” he takes a pause before continuing. “but of course, i want to show other sides of me that isn’t from that scene and experience unfamiliar genres like rock, and that’s why i’m here.”

luciel soon realises he’s come to the last segment of showing off a unique skill. “it wasn’t for long, but for a while i learned waacking,” he says shyly, but he knows it’s not what people would expect to hear after all that talk about classical music. so naturally, the judges plays music for him to freestyle with. he performs his intricate arm movements to the beat of the music, incorporating some tutting into it. he manages to finish it off cleanly, even adding a blow kiss at the very end for a bit of fanservice. that earned some cheers.

it was his first time showcasing a variety of his skills in such a short time, so luciel wonders if he’s left a deep impression on the judges with the minimal time he had. at the back of his mind, he thought of what would his parents say if they watched his audition.

he wonders if he could have impress them, as he did with the audience before him.

luciel swiftly buries those thoughts away.

[cevallosamelia]

Integrated Proyect- Amelia Cevallos

"Preserving the Flow: A Water Conservation Crusade"

Science Fiction; Fiction based on imagined future scientific or technologhical things and enviromental changes.

Story: an account of imaginary or real people and events told for entertainment.

Tale: a fictitious or true narrative or story, especially one that is imaginatively recounted.

One day, I woke up one ordinary morning in my life. As usual, I went to the kitchen to say “good morning“ to my roommates, the ones which I have lived with since I moved to Spain in 2024, now we all became best friends, especially Olivia and Martín. They are Colombian and Italian exchange students that with the passing of the years moved to Spain because they like the Country, the same as me. Besides that, i have to say that that day i had a bad feeling, but i continue my day usually and how i was saying i went to the kitchen also to drink a glass o water so i open the tap of water it suddenly was no longer flowing,water were all driver up  and at first i thought that was a problem of the pipelines. I went to ask my roommates if they know if there is a problem with the zone in which we live. While Martin and I were confused, Olivia bring up that she also can’t take a shower because there was no water. Then we received several notifications on twitter. I quickly realized that this wasn't a local issue; it was worldwide. The news confirmed my worst fears, reporting that water had vanished everywhere. The planet was on the brink of a catastrophe. The news that was going to change many lives at that moment, we looked at our cell phones and it said in several posts, "the world has run out of its main resource, the world has run out of WATER!" The faucets ran dry, and not a drop of water remained in any part of the World. Panic gripped me as I rushed outside the apartament, only to realize that the entire world had run out of water.

Desperation led me to all the social media that could possibly exist,previously  I grabbed my phone to check out if I could find something of what was happening or maybe a little possibility of any clue that let me know a solution for that horrible situation. Once we didn’t know what to do. One of my friends Came up with an idea, that when I heard it I was shocked.  Martín said “I know someone that maybe he could know what to do”. At this time Olivia and I looked at each other strangely and then we laughed. But Martin was sure and serious about the conversation, he also told us that this person that will save us is here in the apartament with us. Then he dropped the bomb and he said, “Amelia you are the one that will bring the water back to the planet”. I was confused and I stood still. We didn’t have time for complaining so I followed the instructions carefully. But also he said that I had in my closet an Old Watch that my parents gave me in 2022. I looked at him not knowing what to do and still very confused , but I just nodded and continued following the instructions.With no time to waste, I decided to embark on a journey to find a solution to the water scarcity that had the planet empty. Little did I know that the answer to this problem lay hidden in the depths of time itself. Armed with determination, I set out to figure out how to travel through time. With trembling hands, I picked up the Watch and turned the dial to a time when water was abundant. Suddenly, I was transported to a place and it was ancient . While I was thinking what I'm supposed to do at that age I  turned off my Watch and continued walking. At that moment I realized that my best friends came up with me on this trip.

Olivia:”hey! We were able to come with you one way or another Amelia, now what we should do or where we have to start searching for any solution”.

Martin:”First we need to calm down a little bit because this trip got me very confused and a bit dizzy”.

Amelia:”Okay I think y know what we Can do, obviously we need to make people aware of the priceless value of water”.

Finally, we stumbled upon an ancient civilization and we ask around the place if someone could help us.that had developed advanced water conservation techniques. They showed us how they had thrived in a world with limited water resources. It was an eye-opening experience, and we realized that we needed to learn from the past to build a better future. Armed with newfound knowledge and inspiration, we returned to our time, where we had a plan to implement sustainable water management practices. We worked tirelessly to instill the importance of water conservation in our society, teaching people to cherish every drop. Slowly but steadily, we saw a change in people's attitudes towards water. They began to cut back on wasteful habits and started to use water more responsibly. The world gradually recovered from the water crisis, and our journey through time had made a significant impact. Slowly but steadily, we saw a change in people's attitudes towards water. They began to cut back on wasteful habits and started to use water more responsibly. The world gradually recovered from the water crisis, and our journey through time had made a significant impact. We came back to the present to see if there is a result of all that we made in the past and how we can implement these new strategies in the present.

References:

https://dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/tale

https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/story

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Science_fiction

video link:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SMOddZPdxxxhhaE1ycL6GDQz0uQA4J1h/view?usp=share_link

Amelia Cevallos Centeno- 3 A

[onetwofeb]

Landscape

1.

The sun is setting behind the mountains, the earth is cooling. A stranger has tied his horse to a bare chestnut tree. The horse is quiet-he turns his head suddenly, hearing, in the distance, the sound of the sea.

I make my bed for the night here, spreading my heaviest quilt over the damp earth.

The sound of the sea— when the horse turns its head, I can hear it.

On a path through the bare chestnut trees, a little dog trails its master.

The little dog-didn’t he used to rush ahead, straining the leash, as though to show his master what he sees there, there in the future—

the future, the path, call it what you will.

Behind the trees, at sunset, it is as though a great fire is burning between two mountains so that the snow on the highest precipice seems, for a moment, to be burning also.

Listen: at the path’s end the man is calling out. His voice has become very strange now, the voice of a person calling to what he can’t see.

Over and over he calls out among the dark chestnut trees. Until the animal responds faintly, from a great distance, as though this thing we fear were not terrible.

Twilight: the stranger has untied his horse.

The sound of the sea— just memory now.

2.

Time passed, turning everything to ice. Under the ice, the future stirred. If you fell into it, you died.

It was a time of waiting, of suspended action.

I lived in the present, which was that part of the future you could see. The past floated above my head, like the sun and moon, visible but never reachable.

It was a time governed by contradictions, as in I felt nothing and I was afraid.

Winter emptied the trees, filled them again with snow. Because I couldn’t feel, snow fell, the lake froze over. Because I was afraid, I didn’t move; my breath was white, a description of silence.

Time passed, and some of it became this. And some of it simply evaporated; you could see it float above the white trees forming particles of ice.

All your life, you wait for the propitious time. Then the propitious time reveals itself as action taken.

I watched the past move, a line of clouds moving from left to right or right to left, depending on the wind. Some days

there was no wind. The clouds seemed to stay where they were, like a painting of the sea, more still than real.

Some days the lake was a sheet of glass. Under the glass, the future made demure, inviting sounds: you had to tense yourself so as not to listen.

Time passed; you got to see a piece of it. The years it took with it were years of winter; they would not be missed. Some days

there were no clouds, as though the sources of the past had vanished. The world

was bleached, like a negative; the light passed directly through it. Then the image faded.

Above the world there was only blue, blue everywhere.

3.

In late autumn a young girl set fire to a field of wheat. The autumn

had been very dry; the field went up like tinder.

Afterward there was nothing left. You walk through it, you see nothing.

There’s nothing to pick up, to smell. The horses don’t understand it-

Where is the field, they seem to say. The way you and I would say where is home.

No one knows how to answer them. There is nothing left; you have to hope, for the farmer’s sake, the insurance will pay.

It is like losing a year of your life. To what would you lose a year of your life?

Afterward, you go back to the old place— all that remains is char: blackness and emptiness.

You think: how could I live here?

But it was different then, even last summer. The earth behaved

as though nothing could go wrong with it.

One match was all it took. But at the right time-it had to be the right time.

The field parched, dry— the deadness in place already so to speak.

4.

I fell asleep in a river, I woke in a river, of my mysterious failure to die I can tell you nothing, neither who saved me nor for what cause—

There was immense silence. No wind. No human sound. The bitter century

was ended, the glorious gone, the abiding gone,

the cold sun persisting as a kind of curiosity, a memento, time streaming behind it—

The sky seemed very clear, as it is in winter, the soil dry, uncultivated,

the official light calmly moving through a slot in air

dignified, complacent, dissolving hope, subordinating images of the future to signs of the future’s passing—

I think I must have fallen. When I tried to stand, I had to force myself, being unused to physical pain—

I had forgotten how harsh these conditions are:

the earth not obsolete but still, the river cold, shallow—

Of my sleep, I remember nothing. When I cried out, my voice soothed me unexpectedly.

In the silence of consciousness I asked myself: why did I reject my life? And I answer Die Erde überwältigt mich: the earth defeats me.

I have tried to be accurate in this description in case someone else should follow me. I can verify that when the sun sets in winter it is incomparably beautiful and the memory of it lasts a long time. I think this means

there was no night. The night was in my head.

5.

After the sun set we rode quickly, in the hope of finding shelter before darkness.

I could see the stars already, first in the eastern sky:

we rode, therefore, away from the light and toward the sea, since I had heard of a village there.

After some time, the snow began. Not thickly at first, then steadily until the earth was covered with a white film.

The way we traveled showed clearly when I turned my head— for a short while it made a dark trajectory across the earth—

Then the snow was thick, the path vanished. The horse was tired and hungry; he could no longer find sure footing anywhere. I told myself:

I have been lost before, I have been cold before. The night has come to me exactly this way, as a premonition—

And I thought: if I am asked to return here, I would like to come back as a human being, and my horse

to remain himself. Otherwise I would not know how to begin again.

Louise Glück

[megamangxtheadventure]

CHAPTER 27: FUTURE GENSOKYO

lord goat obsarved the scene as the taliban and nazis where roundering up the human village "take them for reeducation we must cure them of woke and make them think only freedom thoughts" said shadiversity as he sat on his armor horse with knight armoer "we will go back to the glouous middle ages where socity was good and normal" he said thinking about becoming new king like olden days

a man held his sick human wife "please my wife she is sick go easy on us" said the man but shadiverstys second in command MR BABYFACE got real mad and bursted a blood vassel in his head "DID YOU SAY FUCKING PRONONS YOU FUCKER YOU WILL DIE HOW DARE YOU SAY THE PRONONS AHAHGAHAHAHHA!" he screamed and ripped the mans head off as blood and guts was everything and his wife screamed real bad and gfainted

Lord got gotted his xenon men in car robots called gyrozetters "i will have xenon take over the youkai maountion they can not stop our gyrozetter robots" he laughed but then sh adow jumped down and fired chaos spear "you fool working with nazis and the talban they will ensalve this world this is not progress its misery for the sake of it you utter foolish fool!" said shadow pointing at lord goat

shadow fighted them but it was no good as the gyrozetters beat him up "i have a way to deal with you MORBUS ENGINE B EAM!" said the eraser queen who had soul eraser mind control vr set on and the beam blastered shadow sending ihim into the time vortex.

THE FUTURE OF DARKNESS

shadow woke up in gensokyo but it was grim and ruin as all the woman and youkai where now slaves under the nazi taliban government "what has happen is this future" said shadow with ask

as he went into town the woman where in handmaider tale outfits and shadow saw reimu but older "come along wife of doomcock" said a guard and he whipped reimu

going into town shadow was then covered in solder guards "you are not a religion you are not conforming you are a rebel!" pointed a man and they takened guns out

"just greaT" shadow said and started to fight them with cool moves "CHAOS KICK!"

before bad guys could reinment the rebels had come and opened fire "shadow we need to get out of here we knowed you where coming due to the tablets of time" said the lead as they runned away.

at a cave the leader took her hood off and it was an older mariasa krismas "its you the witch girl " shadow said.

"i was once called wife of Desantis" she looked at the floor "you see after you vanished they bringed osama bin ledin back to life then bill cihiper used an anti magic field generator to kill all magic so when they had armys of nazis and taliban with guns we gotted over runned and the woman became slaves" marisa shed

"but what happen to megamangx and the others??" shadow said.

"they summoned an army of sonix.exes they destoryed the outside world so the illuminati had to colonizie gensokyo as the only safe place becuse of there hurbis and now everything is lost and depressingly horrible" marisa said.

a door opened and it was standing there it was a bearded jon arbunkle and HAT KID "Jon its you!" shadow sad with happy "ive been fighting a while but this kid here they wanted to meet shadow this is hat kid they have helped us a long time" said jon

"i am from another time and place i have come to fixing the timeline shadow you where meant to help megamangx stop the bad future and gorefield you need to go back and stop gensokyos fall it is the key" said hat kid and she took shadow into a garbage

THERE WAS A FIREBIRD CAR THERE WITH COOL CONTROLS "this is the chaos firebird gyroketter is has an omega sigma morbus engine and can send you back to the past you must stop the illuminati from rebuliding osama bin ladin and help megamangx get his mage forms" hat kid said

there was explosions As a group of russianb nationalists lead by pizza boy was there "you sure want to mess up our good future can't let you do that get em boys" said pizza boy as the russians shooted ak47s at hat kid as she took over a 100 bullets "ah get into the time car hurry" she died

"NOOO!" said shadow as he jumpe dinto the firebird and escaped driving into town as he runned over doomcock and over 20 bad guy guards "i need to turn out the time controls" shadow inputted the date and entered the time vortext

BACK IN PRESENT SDAYT

the firebird appeared and turned into robot and punched the xenon gyroketters real hard "I'M BACK BITCHS" SAID SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG and lord goat was scared "IMBOSSBLE I SENT YOU TO THE BAD FUTURE" he said "AND I CAME BACK!" shadow said and his gyro robot kicked him in the face

it was THEN MEGAMANGX ZANE YUKARI REIMU PATCHOLOI REMILIA FLANDERS KOISHI AND SATORY WHERE THERE "we have the power of mages the power of mages of old and uniting we stand against you GEWT OUT OF GENSOKYO YOU FASHIST BASTARDS" megamangx said and they all fired an ultra masterspark at the gyrozetters and shadibery and the taliban blowing them up "such power NO I DO NOT WANTING TO BE DEEAFTED I WAS GOING TO BUILD KNIGHTS AND CASTLES LIKE OLDEN DAYYYYS" and he turned into atoms

"the only olden days are you" said yukari.

shadow was happy as rouge was there too "Megamangx we needing to talk i saw the future and it was bad"

to be continued

[thecelestiallegacies]

Chapter 4: The Island Part 2

The wild land of Mua Pel'am was notorious for it's active volcano. Starting with a gentle rumble before erupting and dropping its large firey rocks onto the property where Vulcan's starter home rested. So when the bed shook and rattled Isla into consciousness, it was no surprise to Vulcan. Her bright green eyes widened and he wrapped his big arm around her, promising her it was okay. The rumbling finally stopped after about 30 minutes, and Isla's grip loosened on Vulcan. She relaxed again and he looked down at her with her ear pressed against his broad chest. He moved a stray curl out of her face and caressed her cheek. "I think it stopped." He said quietly, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "You okay?"

"I am, thank you Vulcan." Isla spoke quietly, moving her hand over his torso. Vulcan stopped her, holding her wrist gently. "Why did you vanish that day you slept over? Did I do something to upset you?" his eyes lowered on her and he slid his hand up over her elbow. Isla bit her bottom lip. "No, you didn't. It was me, I just... got kind of scared. I've never felt this way about anyone before and I woke up that morning confused about my feelings." "Do you believe in soulmates Isla?" Vulcan asked, kissing her hand gently. Isla chuckled. "I think there's too many people in the world for there to be someone out there for everyone." She replied plainly with a smirk on her lips. "Well, I do. I think that if we're meant for each other, it won't matter how far apart we go, we'll come back around to each other again, as different people."

His explanation caught her off guard and she spent a moment absorbing what he had said, and the conviction with which she said it. "We can't pain ourselves thinking about a future we can't see yet. All we have is these moments. And if we come back around to each other, when you're a famous soccer player and I'm an online celebrity, we'll make more perfect moments like this summer. I promise." His voice was gentle and low and his tongue found her lips but only for a moment. He kissed her lips and smiled. "I do need to go outside and check for lava rocks in the yard though..." He stated, kissing the tip of her nose and getting out of bed.

[byfulcrums]

“Casey Jr should live with the turtles and be happy!” NO!!! Casey Junior should go back to the future, except that it's a good future now where he's happy and grew up with his mom and BE HAPPY!!

[writer-akihiko]

Hello! Can I ask a headcanon between dorm leaders with S/o that somehow getting hypnotized by their stalker (ex: like the sea witch hypnotize prince erik). I want to see how they gonna save her. Thank you~ Have a nice day/night!

Dorm Leaders + Hypnotised!MC

I took inspo from your sea witch and Prince Erik example, so there's the notion of a marriage proposal between you and the dorm leader

Warning: Yandere tones, Poisoning, Mentions of Torture but not explicit

One day, on the day of your awaited date, your lover stood there and wondered why you were late. He had prepared everything for this day because today, he held a box containing a singular ring, as you had described it as the way most people in your world proposed marriage.

What he didn't expect was for his lover to look at him with utter fear as he opened your room door...

Malleus Draconia

He didn't comprehend that you were hypnotised, since he was focused on the fact that you were crying at him in fear, muttering about a monster arriving

He doesn't know what to do, he gets on his knees, begging you to look at him

He's quick to get angry at your reluctance, forcing you to look up at him

It was then he noticed a difference of your eye colour. It was a shade duller than its original colour... Which he gathered were traces of hypnotism magic

His anger vanished, reserving it for the caster of the spell

It didn't take him long to dissipate the magic. He was a powerful magician after all

However, his methods rendered you tired and sleepy. He caught you, holding your much smaller body against his own as his eyes softened at your sleeping form

"Lilia, call for Vice Dorm Leader Viper," He said, cradling you against his chest. He pressed his lips on your forehead, wishing well dreams to you. "The caster is one of his students. No doubt, the caster learned from Viper to get to YN..."

"Bring him to me alive. He'll burn for his crimes."

Riddle Rosehearts

He's immediately angry at the situation, which doesn't help your fear

Trey snaps him out of his rage, but it was futile once you yelled "Stay away from me!" To Riddle. He'd be lying if his heart didn't break a little

You were in hysterics, and Riddle had no choice but to use his magic on you. Even if wasn't sealing away any magic, it would restrain you enough for him to inspect you

Riddle's magic prowess wasn't enough to identify the exact magic, but he told Trey to take notes of anyone could use controlling magic

Seeing that you weren't hostile around Ace and Deuce, you were left in their care

On the other hand... Cater and Trey found the caster. With Riddle's unique magic, it broke the spell

Riddle was more than angry at the caster, but your safety was first. He had to deal with the caster in a more... secretive way

"YN, oh YN..." He held you close, although he kept you in the hug since he didn't want you to see his tears. "You're back..."

"The person who did this to you will face punishment for breaking my rules..."

Kalim Al-Asim

He panics at first, but then he turns to Jamil, begging him to take a look at you since something was clearly wrong with you

When you called him scary and a monster, he was in denial, muttering about how you were sick, and just needed rest

He wasn't rational about it, trying to figure out why you were sick through normal medicine but it wasn't working

He was desperate, causing you to run away from him. Under your hypnotism, you ended up in the arms of your stalker

Jamil was quick to report your disappearance, and Kalim did not wait for a single second to rescue you

Kalim's connections made it easy to find a person that was able to undo the spell on you, although you had to undergo intense recovery as well

Kalim rubbed your tired hand, marvelling at the fact that you accepted his proposal. It was a desperate one, not as he imagined but happy tears fell at your sentiment. "YN... you don't have to apologise for the mean things you said. I know it's not you..."

"The culprit will be punished severely! He harmed the future bride of the Al-Asim family after all!"

Azul Ashengrotto

He knew it was the influence of magic when Jade reported the oddity to him. He knew, and yet...

It hurt. It hurt when you said those hurtful words to him. In his heart, he forgave you but he was focused on saving his future wife

Times like this, he was glad he chose to invest in those magical orbs that spied on you in secret

Floyd was a winning key. The caster was no match for him, although Floyd had to be lightly told off to not immediately kill on-site

Once the caster was brought, it was a matter of getting the teachers to remove the spell. Azul, for as much as he wanted to do it himself, wanted you to be safe. It was better to be safe than sorry

Oh, the joy he had having to punish the caster since the student was also part of the Octavinelle dorm...

You were well-rested, although you were still comforting your soon-to-be husband Azul as he still cries over your well-being. "YN... You're safe and that's all that matters..."

"That student is already suffering at the hands of the twins anyway... So don't concern yourself with him."

Idia Shroud

Initially, Idia thought you stood him up. If it weren't for Ortho, he wouldn't have searched for you

He wished he didn't, because the words you said stung. He kept his tears in though. It wasn't your fault nor the right time

He knew what was going on. He didn't have the latest technology spying on you for nothing

He had ignored those devices since he was so nervous about his proposal, but he wished he hadn't

Even though Idia wasn't the strongest magic user, he knew his way around magicians, particularly his influence around the other stronger students like Malleus

The spell was removed, and you were safe. Idia ignored any further punishments to the caster, since it was a later problem...

Idia held his breath as you got up, steadying yourself from your recovery. "YN... I'm sorry that I wasn't fast enough... Thank you for trusting me..."

"Oh? The caster? He's burning in the River Styx. Where people like him belong..."

Leona Kingscholar

He never planned this to happen! The one thing he puts effort into and it's ruined by some lowlife!

He doesn't care about the insults you say. It filters out. He's used to it. Somehow... your insults linger a little longer than the ones from others...

He doesn't deal with you. He needs to find the person who did this and he needs to find them NOW

If it means turning them to sand, so be it. He wanted you back, no. He needed you back

With Jack's sense of smell, it doesn't take long for him to command the entire beastmen gang under him to find the caster

The caster ends up in his claws, primed for him to rip him to shreds... The spell reversal was quick, and Leona held you close to him. It was tempting to slip the ring he got onto your finger...

He kept the ring next to you, as well as a photo of you both. Once you woke up, he'd say all he meant to say that night. "YN... I'm gonna have to leave your side for a while."

"There's prey I have to hunt."

Vil Schoenheit

He felt like screaming and pulling his hair out when he found you in such a state. No... No, he, as a queen, must keep his composure

He turned away before any of those hurtful words reached his ears. He couldn't bear it if he heard such things from you

He called for Rook immediately, trusting his abilities to trace back your doings before the spell took place

Vil, on the other hand, took up his magic pen to conjure up a poison much more lethal than the one he submitted to become the dorm leader...

Epel, he had to admit, had the intimidation that caused the caster to reverse his spell. Vil spent time pampering you, even when you were recovering... It was as if he was your Prince curing you from the evil curse of the apple...

He brushed away your hair, pouring you a new cup of tea. You were quite weary after the whole ordeal, but you couldn't stop looking at the twinkling ring on your finger. "I'm glad it suits your taste, my sweet potato..."

"If I'm not mistaken, that rotten stalker should be rotting... on the outside too, with that new poison I made..."

[angeladore]

💌 comfort after a nightmare

「 now playing.. ☊︎ 」

▹ genre: comfort

▹ pairing: Mammon x GN!MC

▹ note: this was written around 2 am please ignore any mistakes lolol

The past few nights you’ve been experiencing nightmares, sleeping on your own without any comfort wasn’t helping. Luckily for you Mammon had invited you to his room for the night & you had gladly accepted it. You’ve never told anyone about your nightmares, thinking they would go away soon or later but they had kept popping up every time you rested.

You put on some comfortable pajamas that he had gifted you and made your way towards Mammon’s room, bringing a extra blanket since it was cold that night. Knocking, you waited until he had opened the door a few moments briefly after he had swung open the door and invited you in, shutting it behind you as you came into his room.

It wasn’t long before you also gave into the much needed rest, sinking your head into his pillow. The dream was normal at first, you were happy at that but later on it turned creepy. It felt almost realistic, the monster staring down at you with it’s many eyes, arms longer then its torso came up towards your face and grabbed it. For a second you couldn’t tell if it was real or not because you had felt it.

You started to panic and shake, still in your sleep Mammon had woken up to hear your shaky breaths & he started to panic as well. He sat up still half asleep, slowly shaking you to wake you up. You slowly woke up, still startled you stared into his dark blue/gold eyes they had always brought comfort to you on your worst moments of life.

You started to panic and shake, still in your sleep Mammon had woken up to hear your shaky breaths & he started to panic as well. He sat up still half asleep, slowly shaking you to wake you up. You slowly woke up, still startled you stared into his dark blue/gold eyes they had always brought comfort to you on your worst moments of life.

“Hey r’ya okay?..” he asks as he slowly pulls you into a hug, and careful not to startle you. You cling onto him, digging your head into his chest. “It was another stupid nightmare..” you murmured to him.

“Another? And you never even told me about them?! Damnit MC i’m supposed to protect ya and make sure you feel safe!” He hugs you even tighter, laying back down & pulling you closer to him. He smelt like his cologne he always uses & he was warm. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay for this time, but make sure in the future ya tell me alright?” He kisses your forehead, and puts one hand around your head almost cradling it as if you were about to disappear at any moment. “I love ya MC..” he says before he falls asleep.

“I love you too Mammon.” and with that you fell asleep, this time the nightmares had vanished completely whenever you were with him.