#just another in the many who have discovered and served the void only to be consumed by its powerful allure

[trans-phone-eater]

[andreas-river]

Hello, I hope I am not bothering you. I'm a bit shy, so I will make this anon request. My english is a bit off, so, sorry in advance.

But can you do one about Ghost comforting, or trying to comfort, a female reader who is severely heartbroken? Something like, she had to leave to serve in military and recently discovered that the person she loved got married? She even had bought the ring to propose to the person.

Thank you <3

(I know, it's sad, I am a bit heartbroken and need to cry a little)

Simon "Ghost" Riley X Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, reader is heartbroken.

A/N: I have to admit: i wasn't confident about this one, but I really tried my best. I know how does it feel to be heartbroken, but it will eventually go away. Hope you will like it Anon!

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You never expected to feel something like that, it was like a crushing weight from the inside, exactly where your heart was. Some tears were beyond your control, you wanted to cry so much, but the pain prevented everything else.

You turned over the ring you had bought, which you had taken instinctively when you thought he returned your feelings - and instead he had been lying all this time, and in less than two months he would be married to another woman. He had even sent you the invitation to the wedding, showing how many times he had filled you with lies, false smiles, and promises he never kept.

Your legs dangled over the void, sitting on the edge of the roof of the base, on the side facing one of the courtyards. No one was out at this hour, it was dinner time, and you knew that fortunately no one would see you in this state.

Your sweatshirt was too light to protect you from the chill of the cold air, but you hadn't even paid attention to what you had caught when you had rushed out of your room, desperately needing some air to clear your head.

"Aren't you hungry?"

You almost jumped in fear, your fingers instinctively clenching the concrete you were sitting on, Ghost at your side, wearing only jeans and a jacket, and it was strange to see him without his protective gear or rifle.

"I can't eat tonight," you sighed as one hand clenched the ring.

"You have your period?" Your jaw almost dropped to the floor, shocked at the ease with which he had asked you. "Huh, I guess not."

So, without much preamble, you opened your hand and showed him the ring, noticing his surprised eyes through the mask.

"I thought I would make the first move, and I was hoping he would reciprocate," you began, immediately feeling tears forming in your eyes. "I thought it was him - the right man." you said sniffing, now crying in front of your lieutenant.

You didn't care if you looked childish or whiny: you just felt the need to release your feelings.

"He even sent me an invitation to his wedding..." and as the sobs shook your body, you didn't even notice that Ghost had sat down next to you, his arm now completely around your shoulders, letting you lean against him.

"It hurts... it's like a blade piercing you through and through... a bullet would hurt less."

You heard him sigh, then begin to speak.

"I can't tell you that it will not hurt. That when you go to sleep at night, your thoughts will go to him, and in the morning he will always be your first thought." he looked at you, his eyes fixed on yours, still filled with tears.

The sobbing had slowed down, but the tears continued to fall.

As if they would never stop.

"Everyone would tell you that, but... let the time pass. Live, day by day, even if your mind goes back to him. But it will be all right. Time will help you, more than you think."

You look at him questioningly, surprised at the way he speaks. "Are you a therapist?"

You hear him mumble something inaudible, then suddenly get up from the edge of the wall and leave your side, heading for the door.

You get up and follow him, determined to thank him, but he beats you to it.

"Let's get something to eat, we're both hungry now."

And so you found yourself in his company that night, talking to him more or less on various topics, but he was right: your mind often went back to him, but nevertheless you had decided to believe him: time would heal your wounds, even the deepest ones.

[strqyr]

concepting around aura (and related) techniques below the cut. sorta mix of headcanons and stuff for an au.

okay. so: aura techniques can be put into four main categories: defensive, offensive, tactical (name pending), and healing.

// defensive: an aura shield that covers person's body as well as any additional things, like weapons, that they choose to extend their aura to cover. it only protects from outward threats—being most durable against blunt attacks, then slashing, and finally, piercing attacks—, not from illness or, say, twisting your ankle, though in latter's case it can somewhat ease the pain.

while an aura shield covers the entire body by default once aura is unlocked and no longer dormant, with enough training the shield can be focused to specific areas, creating a more durable shield that can repel stronger attacks. this tactic, however, is incredibly risky, with just one miscalculation being enough for severe consequences; henceforth most aura users focus on full-body shielding and strengthening their aura in other ways—mainly by training their focus to keep their aura shield up, and to avoid any lapses in that.

extending one's aura away from their body to act as a separate shield is the most common goal for those who wish to train their defensive techniques further; mainly due to the simple fact that with the aura shield further away from your body, you don't have to feel the dull (or not so dull) ache from the hit.

// offensive: offensive aura techniques are, frankly, a taboo. while anyone with an unlocked aura can certainly try, there's a great risk of injuring yourself trying to use your aura offensively; losing a part of your own aura is to be considered lucky, and there's potential for much, much worse.

but the main reason is a fairly simple one: it has no effect on grimm, who simply absorb any aura send their way. offensive aura is only effective against other people, and thus should not serve any purpose for those who hunt grimm. to even say it's 'effective' against people feels like an understatement: an offensive technique like an aura slash cuts through an aura shield like a hot knife through butter.

for all these reasons, offensive aura techniques are banned from any official tournaments to discourage people from learning them. and to their credit, this effort has been fairly successful: finding any information about offensive techniques has become more and more difficult over the years... though they still live on in criminal underworlds.

// tactical: this is were the greatest variety is, many believing that all sorts of 'tactical' aura techniques have not even been discovered yet.

the most popular, however, is a 'sonar'; the ability to sense other beings with aura—unlocked or dormant—no matter the situation you find yourself in. it cannot go through walls or solid objects to spot anyone (or anything), but it does show grimm as these 'voids', which makes it a great technique for those who are hunting grimm in thick forests or other such environment where visibility is low.

protection from temperature is another technique that falls into this category.

// healing: pretty straightforward: it's simply healing. by default, with an unlocked anyone can heal small injuries like scrapes and small cuts with relative ease; anything else requires more and more extensive training depending on the nature of the injury.

for aura healing techniques, healing another person using one's own aura is at the top. only few people manage to reach this level, hence why such aura healers are in great demand, being able to use their aura to heal even those whose aura is still dormant.

—

aura is part of a person's soul, which is why it has a chance of "expressing" itself in different ways, depending on the person; this can also be hereditary (think ruby's and summer's rose petals outside of semblance use).

for those who never quite got a hang of controlling their aura in ways they wanted, or whose aura have stayed dormant despite their best efforts, exists an aura blocking techniques; either temporarily, where person's aura eventually comes back on its own, or a bit more "permanent", where the person needs to work on unlocking their aura again, potentially even resetting their progress, depending on the effectiveness of the block.

there are rumors of aura blocking going to the extent of taking away aura permanently, but there has never been a recorded proof of this happening, hence why these rumors are often considered cautionary fairy tales at best.

[reedus-prince-of-spiders]

Character post:

(outdated)

The spider wizard now has a human form named Silky. Also is a gunslinger. Haw yee.

TLDR: six spell guns with eyes on them, four magic arms plus two normal arms equals many pew pew. Also an immortal cat(?) who functions as a magic bag

*sorry for the long post, I'd write a book if I didn't stop myself*

The Perpetuator of the Thriftless Cycle has managed to automate most of her responsibilities. With the help of many magic circles and a healthy amount of minions, dungeons are being spidered and spiders are being moneyed. With copious amounts of spare time on her hands, she needed a hobby. Luckily, she discovered Cowboy Times, so she's doing that now.

Her familiar, Goldie, was previously the Grand Visier of the Seventh Plane. Being granted immortality via a christmas cactus, he has pledged to serve Silky for the rest of her mortal life. Goldie appears to residents is this realm as a hole in reality, a dark shimmering void as deep as the sky. No less than two piercing red eyes adorn the void, always visible no matter the angle of observation. If you were blind, you could be forgiven for assuming he was a normal cat, having the physical shape and temperature of one. He is not limited to this form though, and will take various forms for stealth, utility, or intimidation. As Goldie is from the Seventh Plane, he also has the ability to displace items in directions not compatible with the Third Plane, temporarily removing them from our reality.

The spider-possessed approximation of a human appears to be a 6' woman of light proportions. Her hair is golden blond and mid-back length, kept in a neat bun beneath her hat. In addition to taking human form, she has taken a new name: Silk. Her friends call her "Silky", her allies know her as "Six Six Guns" (or "Six" for short), and her enemies call her "The Blind Bandit". The human form Silky created is not an exact recreation of human anatomy though, and will enter the uncanny valley if examined closely. For example, it has no eyes. Instead, Silky uses eight enchanted purple stones. Two of the stones are affixed as goggles that conceal her eyeless visage. The body wears boots, but has no feet. There's just more hands down there. The elbows and knees have also been observed to act more as ball joints than hinges, but this only seems to occur in emergency situations. That being said, the body doesn't raise too much suspicion if observed by a passing look or low pressure interaction.

In addition to the aforementioned goggles, Silky wears a vest and pants made from a strange leather(?). (See Monster Hunter's male Blossom Armor for reference, minus the headpiece and coat) A gothic style hoodless cloak is worn on top to protect from the elements, which can be tossed behind her for gunslinging or social purposes. A wide brimmed stetson finishes the outfit. The outfit is mostly composed of a royal purple with gold accents. The only exception being a white long sleeved shirt under the vest. (See the male Purple-gold jumping spider for color reference)

Being a spider, Silky is familiar with operating eight limbs at once. She uses a modified version of mage hand, which allows the arms to hold the same weight she can, at the cost of not being usable remotely. When summoned, the four ghostly arms start at the elbow, but are positioned as if they would connect to shoulders located below her physical ones. She uses these extra arms to wield all six of her revolvers at once.

The six revolvers are [Wizard's Wheel Guns]. Six focus crystals are held in a cylinder that can be rotated at will. The cylinder can also be replaced entirely, allowing for quickly switching to another set of spells. These allow Silky to rapidly fire a range of intermediate level spells, but Magic Missile is the default option for these guns. The other default spells are elemental options, (fire, ice, and lightning), dark or light magic (depending on the gun), and one healing spell. The revolvers are held in six holsters, two traditional side hip holsters, two mounted on the front of her waist, and two chest holsters. Though all can be drawn simultaneously, only the two hip revolvers can be used for quick draws. The rear sights on the guns have been replaced with the same stones that make up Silky's glasses, meaning there is no issue training multiple sightlines at the same time. Silky does have other weapons for heavier or long range applications, but does not carry then on her person. Instead, Goldie carries them, and can produce them on demand. For traditional spell casting (and melee) Goldie also carries a dual-headed bo staff.

As can be gathered from her apparel, Silky does not much care for doing things sneaky beaky like. This is not to say she is unreasonable, as she does prefer to understand the situation before rushing in. To facilitate this, Goldie will usually preform reconnaissance or extraction of fragile elements before being quickly followed by a broken door, hysterical laughter, and several gunshots.

Haw yee, chucklefucks.

[valorxdrive]

.Connections

Understanding and Meaning.

A big thing I really want to touch on that is supposed to be a more personally highlighted meaning of Sora's KH3 journey is connections. Bringing this unconsciously woven aspect that speaks through his emotions, through Heart and transforms itself into great power, to the conscious mind as he actually comes to see what this means.

It's why I personally want to change up the idea of his training journey when it comes to this chapter. With the Keyblade War on the horizon, and with so much seemingly going wrong, the wisdom Yen Sid grants Sora is that for all of his troubles, strength flourishing, lost and re-discovered, it would be with Connections that an answer to face Xehanort's boundless ambition could be met, alongside with the pivotal help from the many brave and powerful souls he's met by far.

To have the Power of Waking in this matter if only one part of the puzzle's solution. It is a tool to help allow not just worlds themselves to be torn free from the lucid level of darkness that keeps worlds barely tethered within sleep. It goes a step beyond, becoming a power forged to actively undo malicious practices of the 13 Darknesses, who are able to invade and infect, to wire themselves so intimately deep into a person's psyche and soul-- that forcefully ripping it by other means is similar to killing what composes that person.

This is why his adventures in KH3 would have a pivotal angle. What Sora needs to learn is the height of particular emotions, the varied kind of bonds and relationships at a intimately deep level that the everyday times at Destiny Island wouldn't introduce. Adventures wrought with peril allows powerful concentrations of emotion, resolve and resolution to burn through hearts in the form of coveted power. To be able to discern these factors, to let his own emotional wavelength match the hopeful glimmers thrust into twisted malevolence of darkness, and to call upon the self of those individuals that are stuck in a form of nightmare due to this possession.

I'd like to bring this towards the angle of where Sora found himself going against Aqua at the Dark Margin. This battle would tipping point of where he can't simply depend on practice and preparedness, the original motto that also rings as new key for him to grasp.

This 'fight' wasn't a matter of triumph or by any means overpowering. Power was a means to combat her, and for their clash of equal power to create a resonance to let the one who could truly awaken her tear away the grim shadows. Originally, this was supposed to be a position that either Ventus or Terra would successfully be able to free her from. Understanding that Ventus rests within him, getting a gauge of the history they shared, his goal was to become a bridge where their wills could awaken and allow darkness's hold to be crushed by their might.

What Sora is supposed to emphasize is the power of genuinely established bonds. Connections made willingly, through great highs and sorrowful lows. It serves as the complete antithesis to Xehanort's measure of connections, by subjugation and enslavement of body/soul/heart.

A force forged by living alongside of each other, learning, and accepting each other's pain by lending strength to companions and allies.

Another that is made in a desire that ultimately shows itself at the end. A twisted power that worms thorny roots down to the core of a being, changing them, ripping away everything that composes them so they can become Xehanort. Allowing him many selves to experience many different lives that are by no means his in a form of 'One'.

To accomplish what Sora enacted, it needed him to complete one important detail. That secret sanctum that rests within every heart, connected by a boundless void made of metaphysical space, he could no longer afford to travel and do his work there unconsciously. It needs to be a realm where he can be wholly aware, a place that even the primordial darkness itself never imagined someone in this day could travel to and serve as a personal threat.

All in all, this would compose itself as a highly spiritual journey for Sora. Beyond the keyblade, he's getting a true glimpse and grasp of what he said was his true strength from the beginning.

Yet he never realized just how much.

His Heart.

[ayearwithoutwater]

Ten.

Rhonda, one of my best friends, has taken up needle felting. She was at the home of a friend who'd recently begun it as a hobby and then, as if through osmosis, she found herself playing around with the technique, too.

She began with gray and brown fabric. "Sometimes," she explains to me, "you just start felting and don't know what it's gonna be, or you'll be felting something specific and have an idea for another project in the middle of your current one." It's the mode of creation that she's describing to me, and it's a procedural logic that mirrors my own when I write or when I'm on the pottery wheel. Sometimes, you just have to turn your brain off and let instinct guide you towards whatever feels right. It's the parallelism of our logos that flushes my spirit with joy; she understands me, more intuitively than most. Her first project, upon completion, took the form of a Sasuwatari that now keeps her company on her desk at work.

I was a lonely child, but I didn't know it until much later. My parents struggled to make ends meet and were never home. I would take myself on a grand adventure biking around my neighborhood to discover hidden parks or I would be left at the local public library, often waiting around until several hours after it closed because my parents forgot that I existed.

In one instance, I waited for so long that a passerby saw me from her car and doubled back to park nearby so that she could wait with me. As the sun set, she grew worried—she lent me her cellular phone so that I could call home, but nobody picked up. Finally, as evening set in, she couldn't wait much longer, and so she called 911. My idiot father arrived only as I was about to be taken into police custody.

I thought that that was normal. If I were being generous, I thought that that was just the average experience of a child born to working class immigrants. I thought it was common for one's parents to not have any friends, to never socialize, to not have anyone in their lives with whom I could socialize, and to actively chase away the few friends I made on my own.

I wanted a best friend so badly. Books and television shows depicted all sorts of characters, those with many friends and those with few. Even the loneliest ones had a singular best friend, someone who looked out for them and cared for them and served, as Ken Liu often describes within his Dandelion Dynasty quartet, as the mirror of their soul. I wanted to be understood. I wanted at least one person in the world with whom I could do things and share experiences, all before I even possessed the vocabulary to capably express this desire. I never had that.

Nyota tells me, nowadays, that the apologies we're owed as we go through life never materialize. An inconvenient truth, universal, that I've come to learn is that I have to make my peace with it myself, in my own way.

As I began seventh grade and learned to introspect, I fell into a deep depression. I attended a school regionally renowned for its academics, but I couldn't relate to any of my peers, who seemed to be smarter than I was, who seemed to live exciting lives and have interests outside of the classroom. In comparison, I felt worthless. If one knew where to look, all the signs were there: my LimeWire history was full of records by the likes of Senses Fail and Taking Back Sunday, and my Xanga posts were vague paragraphs philosophizing the non-impact of my theoretical vanishment. I kept a LiveJournal account under lock and key, where my innermost and darkest thoughts resided; I'd learned early on not to leave a physical paper trail, because my mother was controlling and a snoop.

Throughout those years, until I turned eighteen, I cried not more than twice. The despair I felt in the core of my being was a dark hole, a void, utterly incapable of the emotional amelioration that crying can bring. I didn't feel sad—I felt empty. I went through my days mechanically, as if I were on autopilot, as if I were programmed, as if I had no choice. I didn't hate myself because I wasn't worthy of even that.

With what little agency I exercised, I tried to hurt myself. I took a knife to my forearm and carved the word 'loser.' I told anyone who would listen (and, clearly, there weren't many listeners) that I had a grand plan: if my life felt like it was still going nowhere by the time I turned twenty, I would end it. Thankfully, when nineteen ended, I had managed to change my life for the better.

It was during high school that I discovered MapleStory, one of the many massively multiplayer online role-playing computer games that gained popularity in the late 2000s. I loved its combination of cute graphics and worldbuilding lore, all that could be experienced with other people virtually. I had nowhere to go after school and nothing to do (I abjectly refused to study for hours without end), so I sank my time into MapleStory.

I admit, I felt a little bit ashamed that I was spending so much of my life online. Yet, I was enthralled, not so much by the game itself but rather by the ease of access it gave me to the other people within. I found myself logging in, day after day, to talk to strangers from around the world.

bell hooks once posited, "Love does not lead to an end to difficulties, it provides us with the means to cope with our difficulties in ways that enhance our growth." My idle friendships gained depth through repeated iterations, and suddenly I was using the game how I imagine today's teens use the comments section within TikTok. (Chat, am I cooked?) Rhonda is one of those friends; another is Cornelius, the older sister I never had, who would mail me care packages of Andy Capp's and iPod touch devices (yes, more than one, that she'd dubiously claimed to have won in local giveaways and sent me, because I didn't own a smartphone and because I'd lost the first one). For once, I had friends who cared that I existed, to whom I was worth something, friends who would miss me if I was gone.

When it came time for me to apply to college, I asked my internet friends for help. I knew nothing beyond the school rankings compiled by U.S. News & World Report, and prestige seemed to be all that my high school administrators cared to instill within us students. With my limited resources, I wanted to find a (competent) school where I could exist, freely and without parental interference. Cornelius, a native of New York City, suggested that I apply to some of the colleges there; the summer before my senior year of high school, she housed me for a month in her tiny Financial District studio, in the same building I would come to live a decade later, so that I could visit the city to make an informed decision. By doing so, she changed my life, irrevocably.

Lindsay C. Gibson, in Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, writes: "Lacking adequate parental support or connection, many emotionally deprived children are eager to leave childhood behind. They perceive that the best solution is to grow up quickly and become self-sufficient. These children become competent beyond their years but lonely at their core. […] They look forward to adulthood, believing it offers freedom and a chance to belong." When my parents were upset with me, usually over trivial matters like why I was on the computer so much (why, indeed?), they would confiscate the household internet modem. By doing so, they cut me off from the only method of communication I had with the only people in the world that I felt cared about me. I would be completely isolated, forced to exist in the physical reality of an unhappy household where all I was allowed to do was study—my mother wasn't a tiger mom, but she was a 遥控 parent. Without hyperbole, I wanted to kill myself.

New York City represented freedom to me. As much as I'd like to extend my parents grace, to be forgiving of the conditions we were under, my forgiveness does nothing to change the fact that I was severely neglected, at best, by the people I should've been able to trust the most. In fact, they gave me only repression and reprimands when what I wanted, needed, most was support. When I was accepted into my college of choice, I booked a one-way flight to the other side of the country, and I've never looked back since.

Today, on my bedroom windowsill sits an Orange Mushroom, an iconic MapleStory creature, felted by Rhonda. It's a gift she created for me after nearly two decades of friendship, representing our beginnings. She's become quite handy with the technique; eventually, I'd like to commission a felted Dragon Quest Slime from her, a friend to keep the Orange Mushroom company and to symbolize, in addition to the other video game we both love, the continuing, everlasting bond between us.

"Let's face it," writes Judith Butler, "We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it is only because it was already the case with desire. One does not always stay intact. It may be that one wants to, or does, but it may also be that despite one's best efforts, one is undone, in the face of the other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel, by the prospect of the touch, by the memory of the feel. And so when we speak about my sexuality or my gender, as we do (and as we must), we mean something complicated by it. Neither of these is precisely a possession, but both are to be understood as modes of being dispossessed, ways of being for another, or, indeed, by virtue of another." Butler, whose seminal works taught me to conceptualize identity as a performance, dealt primarily with identity vis-a-vis transgender and intersex experiences in Undoing Gender, but I know without a doubt that she wouldn't admonish my extrapolation of this concept to better reconfigure the self. I am not me without my closest friends, my chosen family. We're undone by each other. I grieve because I desire. I desire because I grieve. Without them, there is neither; with them, there is both.

When my breakup with Henry happened and I was consumed by the same void of despair of my teenage years (by now a familiar friend), one of my therapists at the time asked if I had anyone else in my life to talk to about it. I remember laughing through tears as I counted off seventeen distinct individuals, none of them familial by blood, whom I felt would—and did—offer me comfort. Gina, who knew that I'd been sending my ex-boyfriend roses each month because I wanted so badly to save our relationship, would press into my hands a flower bouquet of my own, lovingly handpicked by her, each time we rendezvoused. I mourned the love I'd lost, but love never comes when one wants in the way one wants it to. Accepting the love that offers itself, the love that exists, the love that I have and nothing more, is all that I can do; the alternative is a lifetime of misery, self-imposed. Ursula K. Le Guin says "the essential quality of [the entire human condition] is Change"—so be it. I am ever-mutable, done and undone by the people who have chosen to be in my life, and I am all the better off for it.

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT'S ME, CLARK! There is a madness deep in the dark catacombs of Castle Clarkenstein. For years these claustrophobic corridors have been the home of the ghoulish giraffe himself, watching as the world passes by. He prefers it this way. It gives him more time alone with the voices. The voices tell him many strange things. Yet they always come back to one: make more monsters! Everyday they tell him this. Everyday he is unable to comply. Hey, being a mad scientist on a budget means he can’t afford the fancy scientific equipment needed to breathe life into newborn abominations. Guy’s gotta afford pizza somehow. Luckily, he has discovered a way of sorts to please the voices. During all those years of watching, Dr. Clarkenstein noticed a particular pattern. Every night during October saw artists posting new pictures based on peculiar prompts. Many of them based on children of the night. While the spotted specter might not be able to craft new zombies, he can sure as heck sketch’m! As such, I provide this friendly warning to you all now: Be afraid. Few people can survive the horrors that are DUDELZ of the Damned!

By that I mean I decided to do my own take on Sketchtober this year just minus the prompts. Anybody gotta problem with that? Tough, cuz I already drew this crap so you might as well check it out.

All Hallow’s Eve has arrived in the Big Apple. For many it’s a time for tricks and treats. For the Knights of the Square Table, it means overtime. While a handful of their colleagues attended to other affairs, AH, 102, ZO-E, and LAS-E were out on patrol when they got the call from Greenwich Village. Much like the parade held there every year, Halloween served as a perfect excuse for some psycho to make their move. Our heroes arrived prepared for the worst of trouble. What they couldn’t predict was one of their own being turned against them. AH certainly couldn’t. While surveying the crowd in the hopes to find their foe, a strange fog overcame and overwhelmed the blind bot. It forced her down to the ground, crying out in pain as a mysterious force transformed her. Her fingers crept out into claws, her face sprouted into a snout, her figure became far bigger. By the time her friends arrived on the scene it was too late: the AH Wolf was born! Compelled by the mysterious force, she swatted her colleagues away under the assumption they were the real threat. Whatever was manipulating AH had turned her into a monster. One that required the rest of our heroes to drop their plans to help their pal. Now with the magical might of EMIL-E, the Knights of the Square Table must turn AH back to normal and figure out who's behind all of this before it’s too late. Can our heroes save the night?

Even if they can’t, this was yet another fun DUDEL to draw. It’s also an idea I’ve had locked away in my mind for the longest time. You can tell because I first drew this character variation back in 2016, back when I was still in CTI. I drew that along with an idea for another spoopy sketch we’ll be seeing later this week, but clearly it was in need of a much needed update. At the very least I knew I wanted to draw this fun take on a werewolf howling atop one of the Chrysler Building eagles, which seems like prime real estate for monster posing. Seriously, if that hasn’t been done in a movie yet then somebody has to make it happen! AH will keep it warm for you until you do. Otherwise there’s not much to say about the redesign, since I stayed fairly faithful to the original with a few tweaks here and there. Really the most interesting aspect of this piece was when I drew it. There was a full moon out a few nights ago and I took that as a sign that I just had to draw this. The following night got even stranger with the arrival of a Blood Moon. Not only was the moon full, but not like Sandy Claws it was huge and red! According to my friend @Void-Android this is what happens when Earth’s shadow is in the lunar eclipse phase. Either way it looked super cool and prompted me to complete this werewolf-based DUDEL that I hope you all enjoy!

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!

[when-worlds-end-archive]

Not A Word

A/N - Another Star Trek meme has appeared on my page, so have another Bones fic. There’s not nearly enough of these on here, so hopefully I can add this one and many more to the collection in the days/weeks/months/years that I continue to write.

Day 7 of Writer’s Block Challenge

Pairing(s) : Leonard McCoy (Bones) 2009 x Reader

Summary : You get stuck on a foreign planet when the Enterprise’s teleportation pads go down. The good thing, is that you on what seems to be on a peaceful planet. The bad thing, is that you’re stuck with a very hostile doctor.

Warning (s) : “God” is said once and swearing (it’s Bones).

Word Count : 1,257

“Well this is fucking typical,” McCoy muttered under his breath at the current situation you were stuck in.

You’d been collecting samples from a newly discovered planet when the Enterprise’s teleportation pads went down. Meaning you couldn’t be beamed back up. Meaning you were stuck.

You would have been fine on your own, you knew how to defend yourself and you had more than enough food and water in the bag you were carrying to sustain yourself. But you weren't alone. You had a very hostile doctor with you.

You don’t know when the hatred between you two had started, but you and the doctor had come to the mutual agreement that you did not like each other and would prefer to avoid each other whenever possible.

“Since we’re stuck here, we might as well get comfortable,” you decide as you lean back against a rock.

It wasn’t the most comfortable thing you’d ever leaned against, but it certainly wasn’t the least. The least, you didn’t want to even think about, it was too disgusting, too traumatizing.

“Of course you’re just going to relax,” he rolls his eyes. “What the fuck are you on about?” You ask indignantly.

“The fact that we’re stuck on a foreign planet, that could be hostile for all we know, and you’re choosing to lay back and soak in the sun,” he responded, making you narrow your eyes.

“At least I’m not acting like I have a stick up my ass,” you fire back.

He sends you a glare before walking in circles around the clearing, his repeated footsteps beginning to drive you crazy. You would speak up about it but you knew it would send you both on a tangent that would only serve to annoy you more.

“Why the fuck did Jim send both of us down here?” He exclaimed angrily, continuing to pace back and forth, pissed off at the situation Kirk had gotten him stuck in.

“You tell me,” you answer, equally as pissed off, “you’re the one who’s friends with him.”

He chooses not to answer you this time, simply continuing to pace, both of your moods only worsening as time passes by at the speed of a snail.

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

You found that you could learn a lot about the planet if you were with someone you couldn’t stand to look at or interact with. It forced you to look at other things, interact with other things.

Something you took note of while you were waiting was how the world seems to come alive at night. During the day, when you’d been collecting samples, the world look dead. The trees looked droopy, their branches sagging, their leaves crumpling in your hands when you’d reached out to touch them. The grass was course and rough, scratchy against your skin whenever you walked. The pools of liquid in the dips of the ground were empty of moss and algae and any other type of common flora.

But at night, everything seemed to be at full bloom. The trees no longer looked droopy, their branches having straightened out, the leaves returning to a soft and lush green. Beneath your feet, the grass was now silky smooth, it was even enjoyable to touch. Around you, the little pools that have been void of life were now filled with plants growing out of every crack.

You’re pulled out of your observations only when Kirk finally contacts McCoy’s transmitter.

“Bones, Y/N, we’ve figured out the problem with the teleportation pads,” he starts, “so that’s the good news.”

“What’s the bad news, Kirk?” You ask, wanting him to just cut to the chase.

“It’ll take us a while to fix it.” Fuck.

“How long?” Bones speaks up, both of you praying that you wouldn’t be in this situation for too much longer.

“A couple hours, so try to get comfortable and stay put,” he tells you.

Those directions seem easy enough.

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

You and McCoy had finally settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, both coming to the conclusion that the best way to make it through this was to not talk at all.

“Y/N,” McCoy speaks up about an hour to two hours in, breaking your tentative truce and earning a glare from you.

“You better have a good reason for interrupting my peace and quiet,” you hiss, “or I swear to god-”

“Y/N.”

“I will shove a stick so far up your ass-”

“Y/N.”

“that my insults are-”

“Y/N!” He exclaims. “What?” You shout back loudly.

“That sound,” his words make you freeze.

You listen to your surroundings carefully, eyes widening when you hear a low murmur. It sounds like talking, not a language you could understand but certainly a language. And they were getting closer.

You and McCoy share a look, instantly darting to grab your materials before cramming both your bodies into a tiny little alcove as a few figures come into view.

They were human sized but certainly not human with their mostly grayish skin and red hair. The clothes they wore were dark gray rags, an indiction that they were still a developing race,

This was a great find but would also cause McCoy and you some problems as they couldn’t be alerted of your presence or the existence of other life. You couldn't break the Prime Directive.

“What do we do?” You whisper to McCoy softly as you both try to keep as quiet as possible.

“We stay the way we are until they either leave or the Enterprise beams us back up.” He responds, his voice a lot closer to you than you initially thought.

It was dark in the tiny alcove, dark enough that you didn’t realize how close you were to him, close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of your neck now that you were hyper aware of your positioning.

A shiver runs down your spine. You hadn’t been this close to someone since stepping onto the ship, too busy with your work to put any effort into an actual love life.

“Are you cold?” He asks, his voice gentle now that you both had to be quiet.

“A little,” you lie, not wanting to give anything away.

You feel him move, placing his arms to either side of you, still respectfully not touching you. It was surprisingly sweet of him, something you didn’t expect from the gruff man who was always drinking and speaking cynically.

“Do you want me to?” He asks, to which you nod in response, giving him permission.

A few moments later, his arms are circling around your waist, pulling you close to his chest, giving you warmth. Subconsciously, your body moves towards him, plastering you to him in a way that would have made you embraced had you not been thankful for the body heat.

“You know, you’re not so bad,” you whisper quietly, half wanting him to know and half wanting to keep the thought to yourself.

“So I’ve been told,” he jokes, to which you pinch him arm.

“I’m being serious, Bones,” you state, “you’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“You’re no so bad either,” he responds.

With that, you two fell into a comfortable silence, knowing enough was said and enough was done. You had come to another mutual agreement, this time that you didn't hate the other and wouldn’t avoid each other.

So when Kirk alerted you that you were being beamed up, Bones let you go with a smirk.

“Not a word, Bones.”

“Not a single word.”

Taglist : @leosandbuckysgirl

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

[retroyousei]

Female characters in retro shojo [70s edition, part 2]

In this series, the female characters in 70s shojo are being analysed. In part one, three of the most common types were examined; the “average” protagonists, the villains and the tomboys. In this article, other three very common types are being discussed.

The westerners innocent blondies

They are either orphans who just want to find a place to belong, princesses who dream about falling in love, or normal girls who always knew that they weren’t where they meant to be and they somehow discover that they are royalty or from a noble family. Either way, they are lively, innocent, but naive, so sometimes they may be betrayed or belittled, but they have a kind heart that knows how to forgive and have faith on people, so they make friends easily. Many times they are portrayed as Tomboys who love the nature and sometimes they get into trouble accidentally. They may seem helpless and dense sometimes, but despite all of this, they are actually very independent, as they may travel to the other side of the world all alone if they have to (they will make new friends wherever they go anyway) and if they need to, they can kick some serious ass too. But their most precious weapon is their inner strength to move forward, no matter what.

In “Candy Candy” Candy, is an orphan girl who goes through so many hardships. At first, her best friend Annie gets adopted, leaving her behind, but her troubles had just begun. She gets adopted by a rich family to keep company to their daughter, named Elisa who is the one who, along with her brother will constantly try to make her life miserable, firstly when she was staying at their house, then in the private school in England and afterwards when she was working as a nurse. But Candy makes many friends and has many allies and with her inner strength and lust for life, she overcomes all the obstacles that she faces. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t lose some of her dearest friends along the way. As she grows up she learns the hardships of life, but all those obstacles makes her only stronger and she never loses her hope for a better tomorrow.

In “the Rose of Versailles” we see Marie Antoinette evolving from an innocent and silly girl, to an irresponsible young woman, to a sorrowful, regretful, but determined queen. In the first volumes, she was still a child who just wanted to have fun and didn’t care about homework, traditions and preparations for being a queen. Later, during her first years as a queen she was portrayed as a naive person who didn’t make the right choices. Also, her friendship with Countess de polignag was a bad influence for her as she goaded her into gambling. But she was also well intensioned and just wanted her loved ones to be happy. Oscar always tried to be her voice of reason, but it wasn’t enough. Later it was more and more clear that she was spending her country’s money in clothes, gardening and building the petit Trianon to be with her inner circle, because she wanted to fill the void of being a woman who cannot be with her beloved. In the end, during the time that she was captured, before her decapitation, she surprisingly matured, realised what she had done all those years and wanted to make things right, but it was too late. Her final thoughts was about her family, Fersen and Oscar and she was proud and composured until her last breath. Throughout the story she was portrayed as an innocent woman who was sacrificed for the sake of politics.

In “Alpen Rose” Jeudi is an amnesiac girl who lives in Alpes with a boy named Lundi. She works as a nurse and has a quiet life, until a French nobleman captures her. Luckily she is very clever and with Lundi’s help they get away. And that’s how their journey towards finding Jeudi’s parents start. Along the way, Jeudi befriends many people, like a little girl with his brother and his girlfriend, a journalist who helps her a lot, a young couple and a mysterious musician named Leonard Aschenbach. Jeudi is different from other characters in this particular category because of her wit and courage. She also has a strong sense of justice and in matters of life and death, such as hiding from the nazis in the trains, planning traps for them and solving mysteries with the information that she gathers with the help of her friends, she succeeds. She also cares about the others and tries to see the good side in everyone. When she finally found her mother, she was asked from her grandparents to pretend that she wasn’t her daughter, because she was blind and in a fragile state, besides there was another girl who resembled Alicia (Jeudi’s real name) a lot. She had patience and it was repaid in the end.

Rosalie from “Rose of Versailles” was a poor girl who lived with her mother and her sister Joanne and she just wanted for others to be healthy and was happy with the simplest of things, like being able to buy bread and helping other children in the neighborhood who can’t afford to eat anything. When her mother is killed by Polignag who was in fact her birth mother, she is devastated and swears that she is going to get revenge from the nobles who don’t care about anyone else. When she befriends Oscar and Andre and stays at Jerjeyes household, she learns fencing, manners, horseriding and and history, to make her debut in Versailles. There, she meets the woman who killed her mother, her sister who suicides because of Polignag and managed to get away from her. She also felt disappointed with her other sister, Jeanne who betrayed her, but she was sad when she was killed. Later she meets and falls in love with Bernard, a friend of Oscar and they get married. As the years passed by, she evolved from a stereotypical nice girl, into an accomplished woman who can protect herself and the others. By the end of the story she was pretty much the only one from the main characters who stayed alive.

There are many other characters who fit this image, such as Georgie from “Lady Georgie”, who lived in Australia with a family that wasn’t hers and after meeting an English noble young man, Lowel, they fall in love, so she decides to follow him in England where she makes new friends, faces many enemies and also finds out about her real family. Lynn from “Lady Lady” travels to England to live with her father and her step sister and there she faces her evil step mother and her children, but she also finds many allies too.

Note: “Anne of green gables” was and still is popular in Japan, because of Anne’s passion for freedom and expression, the book’s “pastel” aesthetic, so Anne’s imagination and strength despite being an orphan, might have inspired those characters.

The worthy rivals

Those ladies tend to have what the main heroine lacks and they serve as her opposite. They tend to be considered prettier than the main characters and that circumstances are easier for them, something that isn’t true. They also appear to be elegant and refined, on oppose to the heroine who is more clumsy and tomboyish. They are usually more practical, down to earth and skilful than the main heroine, causing her to feel inferior to them. They may start off as the snobbish girls who look down on her and don’t take her seriously, due to her clumsiness and her easy going attitude towards work, but as the time goes by, they realise her real talent and her worth, causing them to consider her as a worthy opponent and expect great things from her. They may appear as almost perfect at everything they do, but the truth is that they are also insecure and they are having other types of problems, such as finding it very difficult to make friends, due to their cold nature, as they always appear antagonistic and determined to win. But as time goes by they may change their attitude with the help of the heroine, or better, with their own realisation.

Ayumi from “Glass Mask” is the greatest example of this. She is the daughter of a famous actress and a famous director and she was always on spotlight ever since she was a kid. She is beautiful, refined, elegant and admired by everyone, also considered to be a genius, as she excels at acting techniques, dancing and reciting. Her family environment helped her to pursue a successful career as an actress. But that doesn’t mean that she is rest assured as she always seeks to exceed her parents’ talent, so that people will see her as her and not as a daughter of famous parents. She also stated that no one truly knows how hard she worked in order to reach her current level. And that hard work was something that she succeeded on her own. When she encountered Maya for the first time and faced her on the stage, even though she (Ayumi) was better than her, she felt as though she was defeated. From that moment, even though it seemed like Ayumi had everything and Maya had nothing, Ayumi always thought that Maya had something that she lacked; a deep understanding of the characters that she portrays. Ayumi may excel at the techniques of acting, but she never manages to portray the true depth of emotion of each character. Her portraits of characters are accurate and true to the play, but Maya’s are refreshing and original. Even when it’s clear that she is way ahead of Maya, she always walks off stage with the feeling that she was defeated. As a rival, she is also very fair and she likes to unlimitedly challenge Maya in many ways. Of course, as the story progresses, Ayumi’s talent evolves and she becomes more open as a person.

In “Candy Candy”, Flanny is a girl who works as a nurse in the same hospital with Candy. She is the best of the nurses there, as she’s always on time, always knows what to do, is very practical and smart, yet she is rather cold and distant towards others. She only cares to get things done, that’s why she is often annoyed by Candy’s bubbly nature. What’s more, as soon as she learns that Candy is an Ardley, she assumes that she only works out of boredom, contrary to her, who she has to support her poor family. She even goes at the front, to work as a nurse and support the soldiers there. Candy respects her for that this and she visits Flanny’s family to inform them about her decision, as her own relationship with them is bad, as she only sends them her monthly allowance and they never seem to appreciate her hard work. Her and Candy make an interesting dynamic and many stated that both of them make the perfect nurse, with Candy’s gentle and caring personality and Flanny’s practical skills. At the end, both of them learned from one another.

In “Swan”, Sayoko is a refined woman who loved ballet ever since she was a child. But when she meets Masumi for the first time, she starts being insecure about herself and afraid that she will overshadow her, as she’s younger than her with a bright future, whereas she had a night of glory as a prima ballerina, but after an accident she needs to learn how to dance again. But she still feels sympathy for her, besides they both shared their love for ballet, thus a rivalry begins.

In “Aim For The Ace” Reika is the best player on the tennis team and so her nickname is “Madame Butterfly”, due to her grace in the field. Hiromi is fascinated by her and even though at first Reika isn’t impressed by her, later she appreciates her skills and thus a friendship begins.

The “damsel in distress” love antagonists

They are fragile, sweet and pretty, that’s for sure. They are either the daughters of an important family which aspires to marry them with the love interest, thus expand their power, or they are someone who because of some circumstances, grew closer to the love interest, before the main character even could or when she was separated from him for various reasons. Nevertheless, they are in a better social situation from the heroine. Their character arc usually begins at some crucial point of the plot, which is halfway through the story, when the main character and the love interest’s relationship have had already developed, but had not quite bloomed yet. They are considered to be innocent and kind, contradictory to the main character who is much more spontaneous, causing trouble to other sometimes. As expected, they slowly fall in love with the main love interest, in some cases before the main character even realises that she loves him. Either way, those characters add an extra dose of melodrama and constitute to the story, sometimes a little bit, some others a lot to a point of changing it.

Shiori from “Glass Mask” is an interesting case. She is a lady from a wealthy family, so she’s elegant and accomplished. She’s also very pretty, but fragile, as she suffers from anemia and many times she passes out. At first, she’s sympathetic, as she goes out with Masumi and starts falling for him, even though Masumi loves Maya. But as the story progresses, looking at the way Masumi talks to her (Maya), she starts to suspect that he likes her. Slowly but steadily, she evolves into a manipulative woman, who uses her weak health to keep him close. She sees Maya as a threat and she goes out of her way to make her seem like a bad person in front of Masumi. When he learns about all of this, he breaks up with her, but afterwards, Shiori attempts suicide and passes out. When she recovers, she loses almost all of her sense and she goes mad. She’s hospitalised in her room, where she barely speaks and sometimes she growls Maya’s name, rips apart her pictures in magazines and orders bouquets of purple roses to rip them too. At this point of the story, her parents don’t allow him to break their engagement, until their daughter recovers, leaving him responsible for her. In conclusion, Shiori evolves from a sympathetic woman, to a pathetic creature who’s adrift to its feelings.

Susanna from “Candy Candy” is a young talented actress, with a good heart, who works at the same theater company with Terry. During the time of their troupe’s performances in Chicago, she starts falling for him. Seeing that Terry’s heart is set on elsewhere she tries to keep him distant from Candy. Later on, in New York, during a rehearsal, the spotlight that was above of Terry, was ready to fall, so Susanna ran and pushed him away to save him, but the spotlight fell down before she could walk away from it. In the hospital, the troupe learns that she’s alive and healthy, but unfortunately the doctors were unable to save her legs and were forced to amputate them, meaning that her career as an actress was over. Terry took the responsibility, having a strong sense of duty and being pressured by Susanna’s mother. When Candy arrived to New York and see his play, she learned about it soon. Before she even fathom the news, she ran to catch up to Susanna, to save her from a balcony, before she could jump, trying to suicide, to free Terry and let him be with the one he loved. Candy manages to save her and decides to leave them be. So Terry chose to stay with Susanna to take care of her.

Lalissa from “Haikara-San Ga Toru” is a character that appears in the second half of the story. She’s a Russian noble, who arrived to Tokyo with her husband, who is in fact not her real one, but he’s Shinobu who suffers from amnesia after the war and believes that he’s married to her. Lalissa is elegant and quiet, but sad and the truth is that she had lost her real husband, that’s why she wants Shinobu near her, due to his resemblance to him. Benio, who’s Shinobu’s sweetheart, believing that he was dead, was shocked when she saw them together. But due to the circumstances and the fact that Lalissa suffers from tuberculosis, Benio decides to give up on him. But when the Kanto earthquake stroke, Lalissa was severely injured and ready to die, whereas Shinobu regained his memory and she told him to marry Benio and be happy.

Another mention, is Marie from “Alpen Rose” who liked Lundi and that was the reason that she miraculously stood up from her wheelchair to help him, although it’s clear that he likes Jeudi.

[angellissy]

favourite crime

A/N: This is a Rafe Cameron imagine that I wrote based on listening to Favourite Crime by Olivia Rodrigo, it is sad and the relationship that I have portrayed is not healthy or desirable in anyway. I enjoy writing about Rafe because I think it is interesting to explore his character and the sadness/angst that comes with it. ALso listen to the song while reading:-)

Warnings: Mention of murder and a gun, toxic relationship, rafe cameron himself might need a warning, mention of drugs and addiction (very briefly), lmk if I forgot anything!

Rafe Cameron x Reader (Female reader in this imagine)

She had been sitting on the hard wooden floor in his apartment for so long that she could no longer feel her legs, not that it really mattered anymore. In the beginning, she had silently wished that his last call had been some evil prank, one in the many things he always did to get a rise out of her. Even now when she knew the truth, a part of her heart stayed in denial, perhaps that would prevent it from breaking. His last call. There was such an urge residing in her, an urge to scream, cry and break apart everything in her sight. Those urges remained confined inside of her as she continued to sit motionlessly, she hoped that if she never moved a limp, nothing would change. 

“I- I did something bad.”

Her hands shook in her knees as she tried not to break down, she couldn’t think about him, she wanted to erase every memory they ever shared. The photo album would soon burn along with all the other things he had given her. But those memories would remain as if she was the one with blood on her hands. The worst thing of all was that she could not seem to stop loving him, and heaven knows she had tried countless times before. Always trying to forget about him before he had the chance to shatter her heart again, but he always came back to pick up the pieces. That made her stay. It should have made her pack her bag and run. Her parents had always preached that “running away from your problems will never make them go away.” but she was sure that had she done it, she would not be in the home of a murderer. 

“What are you talking about Rafe?”

She had met him when she was only sixteen, and she had been caught up in the whirlwind that was Rafe Cameron from the day he first smiled at her. For during the four years that followed, nothing could quite make her feel the way she did when he shone for her. He had been snobby and spoiled, sure, but for her, he had done everything. He took her on dates everywhere around the outer banks, but she preferred those on the beach where the sea and moon were their only observers. She had never experienced a love so pure as the one he poured over her. It was as if he had been containing all that love inside of him for years without being able to let it out. At first, they had been enough for each other but eventually, Rafe realized that there was a void in him that no person could fill. That was when he discovered just how thrilling and filling drugs could be. After that, she watched him stray further and further away from the Rafe she had fallen for. She could, however, not let him go. She hung on to the idea of him so tightly that he could have made her do anything. But she had not been the only one clinging to the other, Rafe knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself.

“I- I love you please I am so fucking sorry.”

How was she supposed to go on with her life knowing that the boy she had burned for, had taken the life of another human being? He had cried and screamed that it had been for his father, Rafe had wanted to prove himself worthy of the name Cameron but instead, he had pushed himself closer to losing it. Every time she had met his family, her silent contempt had only grown, for they were one of the reasons why her boyfriend had become so corrupted. And now he was gone, so far gone that she would never go on those late-night dates by the ocean again. He would never give her that little smile that only she saw, and although he would try, he would never say i love you the way he had done the first time. 

“Goodbye, Rafe.”

She had done so many things for him, serving as his accomplice in everything he did. There was nothing she wanted more than to remain by his side and be the one holding his hand. She had dived headfirst into the soul of someone who was not hers alone to save, and she had drowned in the choices he made. She had been the one to pick him up when his hands were still shaking from pulling the trigger and she had not even known it, he truly had brought her down with him. One day she would reach the surface and begin her life again, but for now, she would remain on the floor and grieve the boy she had lost. For he would always be her favorite crime. 

[dalekofchaos]

What would you say are the biggest mistakes Mass Effect 3 made?

Okay this is going to be a long one, but these would be the biggest mistakes ME3 ever made in my opinion

Choosing Cerberus over The Reapers. The thing that annoyed me most about ME3 is the fact that Harbinger is not the main threat. The Illusive Man is. Harbinger has been built up as the big bad since ME2. "YOU HAVE FAILED. WE WILL FIND ANOTHER WAY." He says as he discards the Collectors. Then his speech to Shepard as the base blows up. "Human, you've changed nothing. Your species has the attention of those infinitely your greater. That which you know as Reapers are your salvation through destruction. You will surrender your potential against the growing void. We return, and you will rise. We are the harbinger of your perfection. We will bring your species into harmony with our own. Your species will be raised to a new existence. We are the beginning, you will be the end. Prepare for our domination. Prepare for our coming." Then in Arrival, he came pretty damn close to unleashing quick subjugation and harvest upon an unprepared galaxy. Upon Shepard foiling his plans. "Shepard. You have become an annoyance. You fight against inevitability. Dust struggling against cosmic winds. This seems a victory to you. A star system sacrificed. But even now, your greatest civilizations are doomed to fall. Your leaders will beg to serve us. Know this as you die in vain: Your time will come. Your species will fall. Prepare yourselves for the Arrival." The perfect final villain right? Unfortunately, Cerberus was more focused on than The Reapers. My problem with Cerberus and no Harbinger is Too many Cerberus, too few Reaper forces in plot. We fight Cerberus more often than the reapers. Hardly any boss fight and the one with Reaper Destroyer on Rannoch was more an interactive movie than fight. During the Horizon mission in Mass Effect 2, Harbinger was solidified as the Big Bad. It was menacing and ominous, with just the right amount of annoying. It taunted us throughout the game, telling us how insignificant we were, and how our actions were pointless. It was willing to posses drones through the Collector General to fight us personally, and when we killed the host, it tossed them aside. Harbinger even gave the typical “You haven’t seen the last of me!” villain rant. It made any fire fight frustrating, and that made me want to kill it even more; I hated Harbinger. Many games fail to do that. Harbinger was an enemy which I looked forward to defeating. I had the desire to annihilate. In Mass Effect 3, I got a codex entry and a cameo. Harbinger just swoops in at the last second and blows my friends and I to hell(and lets the Normandy save them), then flies off. Personally, I would have loved to hear Harbinger’s menacing monologue, it drove me on. I would have felt a deeper motivation to take the fight back to Earth if it told me how much destruction the Reapers were causing, how many lives were lost. I felt cheated when I got to the final mission, only to suddenly realize it was largely absent from the game. Harbinger has been replaced. Replaced by the Illusive Man and Kai Leng. The former is an old acquaintance, albeit one now controlled by the Reapers. The latter is a space ninja from a terrible book. What would've been amazing is if Harbinger IS the Catalyst. Harbinger taunts and haunts Shepard throughout the game He uses the memory of that child to haunt Shepard as a symbol of humanity lost. After Shepard activates the Crucible. Harbinger appears. He explains to why and how The Reapers were made. the AI Leviathan created to solve the equation is Harbinger all along, Harbinger manipulated The Leviathan into giving it Reaper form and birth at first it did what it commanded and what they asked of it was to look at the dark energy building up which back then was only an anomaly that Leviathan was concerned with but then the first harvest began and Harbinger and The Reapers were born. Funny enough, Leviathan reminds me so much of FMA:Brotherhood. The Intelligence tricked Leviathan to create the Reaper is very similar to how the Dwarf in the flask became Father. So what I think should have happened is it would've been revealed that Harbinger is the AI that convinced the Leviathan that harvest was the only way to survive and justifies the harvests not because organics and synthetics can't coexist, but because of the dark matter crisis. Throughout the game we would have more confrontations with Harbinger. Have him "ASSUME CONTROL" during fights. Give us a voiced confrontation between Shepard and Harbinger. Make it clear that Harbinger chose The Illusive Man and convinced him of together they could uplift and empower humanity over the lesser races. The Illusive Man is to Harbinger, as what Saren was for Soverign. Then the Crucible will grant us the choice to Destroy or Control The Reapers or Harvest this cycle to survive the Dark Matter crisis. You could either. Destroy Harbinger and The Reapers, while the united races would discover a way to stop the dark matter problem. Give in to Harbinger to harvest humanity to save the galaxy. Control The Reapers to stop the harvesting and to work together to stop the dark matter crisis.

Choosing to have a smaller crew than ME2 and focusing solely on the ME1 characters and screwing over or ignoring the ME2 crew, especially romancing Jack, Miranda and Thane. If it were up to me, this is what my ideal ME3 line up would be Ashley/Kaidan EDI Garrus Liara Tali Javik Jack Miranda Thane(EA forgot about him and simply chose to kill him off, I think Thane could’ve rejoined the crew and even had a mission where we find a cure for Thane and Kolyat) Grunt Mordin(you'll see how later) Legion(You'll see later) Balak or any Batarian Squadmember. Ideally it would be someone who survived the Bahak system or even a Batarian freedom fighter who puts his people’s survival over the pride and prejudices of the Hegemony. His sole goal is to liberate Khar'shan and save his people. But for a more memorable person, Balak would be the squad member. I would make killing Balak not an option. The last high ranking officer in the Hegemony. Instead of causing deaths on the Citadel, he seeks Shepard out. It’s an enemy of my enemy is my friend. Over time, Balak would show remorse for his past actions as a terrorist and for the Hegemony’s past. Shepard and Balak learns to overcome their differences and see each other as friend and works together to destroy the Reapers. We would get a Priority Khar’shan where we could liberate the planet and the Batarians would be in a fighting force.

Keeping James alive. I like James, but he added absolutely nothing to the game. We already had an Alliance character. Ashley Williams/Kaidan Alenko. James should have been the Jenkins/Wilson of the game. He should have died in the crash to take out Eva and Ashley/Kaidan should have been with us from beginning to end. James is a character we barely know. We’ve waited a long ass time to see Ashley/Kaidan and it was downright disappointing that neither Ashley nor Kaidan did not get to interact with Garrus on Priority Palaven and Wrex during Priority S’Urkesh.

Mirandafying Ashley Williams. Mirandafying Ashley Williams for Mass Effect 3 was shallow and unnecessary. Wearing loose and long hair and skimpy clothing? Ashley Williams is a by the books soldier. She would not look like this. She would not grow her hair or let it down like this. I mean, it’s not that they changed her face so much, but they just tried too hard with the makeup, hair and outfit. Ashley didn’t need to be model-sexy and run around in heels and showing cleavage. She was already sexy as hell in her own way. All they needed to do was give her the Alliance Crewmen outfit as her casual look and the Phoenix Armor and the current Alliance type armor she was given in ME3, as well as a unique Spectre armor. It's not just the shallow Mirandafying. It's the fact that Ashley has little to no interactions. Ashley barely has any interactions in the game. Compared to Kaidan, Ashley is not interactable. I don't like that Ashley barely has any interactions and just feels...hollow. Ashley should have crew moments with Joker, Adams, Ashley at the monument mourning those who died with the original Normandy, Liara, Tali and Garrus. Was it so much to ask for simple interactions? And really, Ashley in the first game had a personality, Ashley in ME3 feels hollow.

Choosing Diana Allers over Emily Wong and Khalisah al-Jilani. Emily and Khalisah are two reporters we actually know and respect. They earned their place on the Normandy. Emily reported on crime and traffic controllers. Khalisah gave us hard hitting questions and actually cared about reporting on what the fuck was going on in the galaxy. They earned their place on the Normandy as far as I'm concerned. Compare that to Diana Allers. What has Diana Allers done to deserve a spot on the Normandy? Nothing. They created the Battlespace to make her seem like a hip and cool Alliance News Correspondent. Allers looked, weird and she just comes off as annoying and she's a waste of space on the Normandy when we could've had a whole new or returning squad member. God, I WISH Javik could throw her out the fucking airlock. You had TWO perfectly great reporter characters and you did jackshit for any of them. Just so you could have an excuse to hire Jessica Chobot.

Not letting us see Tali's face on Rannoch. Legendary Edition fixed the mistake by finally showing us Tali's face, but it's still exclusive to Shali romancers. What should have happened was we see Tali's face when she unmasks on Rannoch. If we don't romance her, she unmasks and gives us a smile. If we romance her we see her face and kiss her. Something simple like that. It would've been great to see

Not having the ME2 squad members join in on the Citadel DLC. I mean for fuck's sake, it's like they want us to know "fuck you, ME1 squadmembers only" Again, why? Why wasn’t Jack, Miranda, Grunt, Samara, Jacob, Zaeed and Kasumi not added? If we romanced Jack or Miranda, why didn't they come to save us when we were being hunted? Why not REALLY making it feel like Team Hammerhead by actually adding the ME2 Squad members to the Citadel DLC before the party? There was no reason why you couldn't include the ME2 squad members in the Citadel DLC

Making Cerberus the villains instead of uneasy allies, when The Batarians were the perfect allies for The Reapers. This might just be me but I think Cerberus should have been on our side in ME3 and The Batarians should have been fighting for The Reapers. Makes sense Cerberus has just been a rouge organization doing what the job no matter what the cost(even if the cost is atrocities) and instead of indoctrinating themselves they could of studied it to make themselves immune to indoctrination and The Illusive Man's goal was to use any means necessary in order to destroy The Reapers. I also like the idea that you know you can't trust him, but he does get results. The Council and The Alliance are desperate, so they accept a partnership with Cerberus. The Batarians have always held a grudge against The Alliance, The Council and would have wanted revenge for Bahak/ Viper Nebula. The fact that there are no consequences for what we had to do in Arrival from The Batarians just doesn't make any sense and you'd think this would give The Batarians the motive to turn to The Reapers. Hell in the Terra Nova DLC in Mass Effect 1 it seemed to me that Balak was already indoctrinated and Balak’s revelation of the “Batarian rebellion” makes it seem like they would be the perfect tools for The Reapers. Balak will be the new Saren figure. If you killed Balak, then The Reapers would just bring him back. The first act of war for the Batarians was the destruction of the Viper Nebula, so their retaliation was killing Udina. Prior to the Reaper invasion of Earth, Udina would go to Omega to make peace talks with Aria. The Batarians attack and gain control of Omega, Aria is ousted(but saved by General Petrovsky) and Udina is executed live for the galaxy to see. Because of Udina's execution and Anderson leading the resistance on Earth. The Illusive Man is now the Human Councilor. Miranda and Kai Leng would be squad members. Depending on if you gave TIM the Collector Base or destroyed it, he will either keep you in the dark or help you at every turn. Just think of the Cerberus War Assets Cerberus Scientists General Oleg Petrovsky Collector Base Cerberus Fighters Cerberus Phantoms Cerberus Engineers Project Phoenix We would get a big mission to deal with the Batarians, Priority:Khar'shan. If you do not deal with the Batarians, there will be major casualties. However half of the Batarian forces are not indoctrinated and just want to end the mistakes of their government and live. Balak wants to kill the rebellion of his people. Ironic. Somehow Balak has placed enough bombs on the planet to destroy everyone who is resisting Reaper indoctrination. We can either. Talk Balak out of it. Telling him to resist and fight for your people(which WOULD gain Balak as an ally) or talk Balak into killing himself. Or the true Renegade option is to kill Balak and order a strike that wipes out the Batarian forces, but sacrificing the Batarian Rebellion. By the time we get to Priority Earth everyone is on the same page and united against the true threat, The Reapers. And it is Harbinger who is the final boss

Not having Maelon be there with Mordin in ME3. This isn't really a problem, but I had a thought. If we spared Maelon and kept Maelon's data for the cure. Maelon should have been on board to help Mordin with the cure. If we warn Mordin and Maelon about the sabotage, then Maelon would choose to sacrifice himself to save Mordin. And after that, Mordin would choose to join Shepard's crew.

Legion's "death" is pointless. He....is software. He could easily copy and paste The Reaper code without sacrificing himself in the same manner when he was broadcasting the Reaper signal to all Geth. Or he could've disseminated himself after he made a copy and transfer that copy over to his platform. I just get the feeling that they didn't want to keep Mordin, Thane or Legion alive....for reasons.

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Scattered AU Masterpost Part 1

This is a collection of all material associated with the Scattered AU (read about the premise here)!

Join the new Discord server here

AU material under the cut (because this is growing super fast already)

Due to post length limit (which is apparently a thing), find Part 2 of this AU here.

A few ideas to get us started:

- Tango and Zedaph spawned relatively close to each other, but they haven't found each other yet and each think they are alone. They keep just barely missing each other in their exploration of the area. Maybe, with the powers of Zed's perfect sense of direction and Tango's laser-sharp perception skills, they'll finally stop walking circles around each other...maybe.

- Xisuma spawned alone, deep underground in a massive, confusing cave system. He desperately wants to figure out what's going on and how to fix it, but a bad run-in with the Warden damaged his helmet, leaving him unable to use admin commands.

- Mumbo spawned the farthest out of anyone, right next to a woodland mansion. He quickly realized that hoping to stumble across another person this far out is a lost cause, so he's trying to create some form of communication using a combination of redstone and Evoker magic. The Evoker isn't very helpful, and it isn't going well.

- Joe and Vintagebeef were the only ones to successfully spawn at spawn. They aren't really sure what's going on, but they've decided to build a small village as a base of operations while they figure it out (and to signal signs of life to anyone who might successfully find their way back)

- Cleo spawned in a village, and is currently hiding out in a house while trying to convince the villagers to trust her. Let's just say they aren't thrilled to have a zombie in their midst (and the iron golem is even less pleased)

- Impulse had the misfortune to spawn in a guardian temple. Between the guardians and the constant threat of drowning, he's been in a death loop since the world started.

- False and Stress spawned right next to each other. They figured out pretty early that something was wrong with regen, and using their combined strengths, they made it to the Nether to get ingredients for healing potions. They are now on a mission to find the others and distribute the potions to whoever needs them.

- Ren actually managed to travel a good distance back to the world center, before getting pretty badly injured. With no regen, and knowing he'll have to start the journey all over if he dies and respawns, he's decided to pull together a small base and take shelter while he waits to be found.

- Scar spawned on an outer End island, with no idea how to get back to the Overworld. He keeps finding strange glitches in his surroundings, and he swears he can hear soft Vex laughter whenever he turns his back...

- Keralis spawned in the Nether, and he is absolutely terrified.

That's all I have for ideas so far. The location of the others (and what happens next) is up to you!

Contributions so far:

- Bdubs spawns in the void, but he just doesn’t die. Maybe it’s spawn protection, maybe it’s the glitches, but he just keeps falling and falling and falling further from the bedrock, unable to do anything to help himself as he descends further into the void

- @fluffy-papaya

- After wandering around aimlessly for days or maybe weeks, Tango finds an automatic farm for... well... he's not sure, exactly. But he does know who built it- it's got Zedaph's mark all over it. So he stays there, fixing broken Redstone, trying to figure out what it does. And when Zedaph returns to collect melons (so that's what this thing is for), he finds Tango waiting for him.

- @rayveewrites

- Etho spawns in a underwater cave, but there is air in it and for some reason a shipwreck so he can get some wood and tools. But he has to get out to contact anyone because the reception in caves don't happen to be the best, little does he know just outside the cave is the monument where Impulse is, they're so close yet so far from one another

- anonymous

- Maybe Etho ended up spawning at the very top of a mountain, he could see far from up there and has a general idea of where he is, but no idea how to get down as all around him is powderd snow hiding ravines, and cliffs. . . And a few goats that Etho has narowly avoided getting headbutted by. (Etho went to the mountain after escaping the cave)

- @ciaravixen

- Welsknight spawned in the Nether

- (paraphrased) Ren fell down a ravine in the mountains on his journey to the world center, and decided to make a small cabin base rather than try to carry on injured. Doc spawned in those same mountains, and may find him eventually.

- anonymous

- Grian spawns on the tallest peak of the highest mountain. Surrounded by thick fog and almost ever-falling snow, with crevasses and cliffs that drops thousands of blocks to the ground around every corner. No trees, no life, and barely enough air to breath. It's so cold. A thin red sweater isn't nearly enough to keep him warm.... he's likely caught in a death loop for quite awhile as he refreeze over, and over, and over again. And when he does manage to climb down, an ice pillager lies in wait...

- @therainofsweetmelody

- Scar’s End spawn is on a single island- he can see other islands around him, but they’re just out of jump reach- he tried, and fell and died, and respawned back onto his little island with the whispering voices around him a tad louder, and the islands just a bit farther away. He stops trying to jump to them eventually, out of fear they’ll vanish and he won’t have anything to focus on besides the whisper of ice cold hands and wings on his skin

- anonymous

- Oh! Maybe since Xisuma’s admin helmet is broken and he’s unable to run any world commands, that means mob hermits like Cleo, Doc, and Jevin aren’t quite the same. Maybe Cleo locked herself in that house for the villagers protection as much as her own. Maybe Doc eventually joins a lone creeper pack. Who knows! -💧

- anonymous

- Zed and Tango spawned in the same jungle biome, explaining the melon farm and why they could be literally three blocks from each other and still not be aware of each other’s existence. -🟣

- The first thing Scar does once he first spawns in (besides from almost having a panic attack) is take a jump into the void. This of course does nothing. He checks out the rest of the end islands around him, and finds a rather large end city just in render distance. There should be treasure or something that could help him survive, right? -🟣

- Keralis was lucky enough to spawn in a warped forest biome and next to a basalt delta, so he’s got wood and stone. It takes a bit, but he gets full gold armor and finds his way to a nether fortress. He figures with the broken regen that the other hermits will try to go for potions. Maybe he finds Stress and False, maybe not. -🟣

- I apologize if I'm sending too many asks, please feel free to say if so! I'm just already so invested in this idea, and absolutely love where it's all going! Shattered au brainrot go brrrrr - anyways; Cub spawns in a valley within the messa. To one side an abandoned village covers the cliff, and to the other, mines drill deep into the rock. A stream luckily runs through the valley, though it's slowly drying up. He can hear strange sounds in the mines, and feels something in the village watching

- @/therainofsweetmelody

- what if the hermits caught in death loops start gaining scars and marks from all their deaths? like impulse had permanent scars from the guardians and grian’s hands are permanently blue from freezing to death all the time

- anonymous

- X finds some axoloyls in a lush cave and falls in love. He gets some wood from said cave and gets some buckets so he can keep them -🟣

- Cleo gets stuck in a death loop with the iron golem, who is blind to her not attacking the villagers. One of the smarter villagers realizes she’s not fighting back, and calls the golem off. -🟣

- (paraphrased) After the iron golem is called off, Stress and False find Cleo badly hurt in the village house. They make sure she's comfortable and safe before going to the Nether to get potions, where they find a battered Keralis and carry him back. They turn the house into a little hospital while they brew potions and take care of Cleo and Keralis until they're strong enough to move on.

- anonymous

- Stress and False have set up a Nether Portal near a Nether Fortress, for easy escape to the relative safety of the Overworld. Keralis has never been more relieved in his life than when he found that portal.

- @/rayveewrites

- Doc spawned a thousand blocks away from ren, not knowing hos friend was there he happened to go in that direction. He managed to get materials, tools and food for himself before he sees rens little hut

- anonymous

- Jevin was one of the luckier hermits, when it came to where he spawned. He woke up in the shallow green waters of a floral cave, illuminated by glowing rocks and berries. He wasn't... quite alone. Although no other hermits could be seen, he quickly found a small family of axolotl living in the closed-off cave. They became his companions as he tried to assess his situation, and served as comfort when he realised his communicator was almost useless. Being slime, the environment was very welcoming

- @/therainofsweetmelody

- Xb spawns in the middle of a desert, with not even a village in sight. While he's used to being in distant lands with limited resources, he's very much not used to it on the Hermitcraft server with limited contact to the others. As the nights go by and the sands grow more hostile thanks to never-burning husks, he grows more and more lonely.

-@/basaltdragon

- At first, Doc is elated when he spawns on a mountain surrounded by goats. That is, until he discovers that none of his fellow hermits are there with him. After being headbutted down the mountain into the snowy tundra below and left on precariously low health, he hunkers down in a nearby igloo. But it's not exactly easy in a food-scarce biome when his only contacts are two villagers and the horde of strays that gather outside each night...

-@crows-in-space

- in one sense of the word, scar is safe. There's enough chorus fruit on the island to keep him alive, and despite his concerns the enderman don't even bat an eye at him. Theoretically, he could survive for longer than many of the others. But the whispers keep nagging at him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Sure, he could survive, but how long could he stay on this deathly quiet piece of land before someone would find him? He can see the faint outline of an End City on one of the fading islands, and every passing moment it haunts him. If he could just give in for a moment, let the powers of the vex harness his body for just a few seconds, maybe he could make it over and gather some gear- maybe even an elytra- and then he'd be set. But fear and logic talk him out of it. He's made deals with the vex before, and that quick trip across the islands could put him in a much more dangerous position than only being stranded...

- @/crows-in-space

- What if after scar gives up, he finds his vex mask lying on the floor with a tag saying ‘do it, it’ll help you get across’ (shade's note: Scar does it)

- anonymous

- For the Scattered AU: Scar gets an elytra, and after much internal struggling he decides to take a chance and leap into the darkness for hope of finding another island. During his terrifying glide he hears a distant scream from the void that is so familiar, but he can't quite place it, and he's in no hurry to risk flying any lower to check it out. - M

- @petrichormeraki

- Iskall and doc's robotic eye glitch out so they don't have any depth vision, so no mater where they spawn, they Are bound to die a few times from missinterprating how far away an Arrow or trident is, and how fast something is coming at them.

- @/ciaravixen

- I initially thought of this for Ren, but since there was already an idea for him, it could probably work for Iskall instead; He spawns in the middle of a scorching desert. Dunes of sand for as far as the eye can see, with barely a cactus or dead Bush in between. No water, no life - only the ever-present heat of the sweltering sun, and the large skeletons everywhere. He manages to find an abandoned temple after days of dragging himself through the sand, and spies a desert village on the horizon

- @/therainofsweetmelody

- Scattered AU! The way the "not killing Bdubs in his own spawn in the void" glitches work is similar to the forgiving void mod works where when you hit the bottom of the void you are teleported to the top instead of taking damage, but since Bdubs can't see anything in the void he doesn't know this (beyond a constant falling) feeling until he manages to "fall forward" enough to find some end islands, he finds scar this way but is so excited to see him he died from fall damage right in front of him

- @theclockworkowl

- (Scattered AU) Piggybacking off the death loop scars ask, when/if Bdubs is rescued from the void, he's in ROUGH shape. His external limbs are blackened and freezing with frostbite from the void (voidbite?), and his bones are permanently weakened from his form being subjected to the cold abyss for so long. Bdubs needs to relearn gravity after falling for so long, and doesn't use elytra anymore. The solid ground under his feet is something he'll never sacrifice for convenience ever again. - M

- @/petrichomeraki

- Wels spawned in a giant crimson forest in the nether. Towering mushroom trees, thick red vines, with piglins and hoglins he constantly has to run away from. But he finds something.... interesting as he's exploring. A house has been built into a wall, a mixture of nether and overworld blocks. Stepping inside, someone clearly lives there - someone who's not a piglin. Imagine his surprise (and relief) when a certain familair knight walks through the door. "Helsknight?"

-@/therainofsweetmelody

- xB wakes up in a dripstone cavern. It's damp and cold and the spikes are very tall, forming a sort of natural cage around him. At the very least, zombies and mobs can't get through, but the longer he stays there, the weirder the sounds get. There... wasn't a new mob for the dripstone caves, right? Right? (i'm trying VERY hard not to do new hermit OR crossover headcanons for scattered au. i swear) ~@betweenlands

- Scattered AU! Everyone Etho dies He spawns in a new place, first it was the underwater cave, then it was the top of a mountain, but it wasn't until he spawned inside an ocean monument and saw impulse trying to escape just as he was dying he realise the importance of the pattern, He was cycling though each of the other hermits spawn locations, which made all the wierd almost hermit made wierdnes make sense, the underwater one was his but the mountain was Grian's spawn spot,

- @/theclockworkowl

- Can the hermits see death messages? (They can) I'm imagining the potential angst of that, where normal world messages (achievements, commands, deaths) go through just fine but the others can't chat. The helplessness of watching their friends' names endlessly filling the chat and having no idea where they are, having no clue how to help, not even being able to offer comfort.

- @/basaltdragon

- Someone had mentioned xisuma also ending up in a floral cavern with axolotl, right? What if this was the same cave Jevin found himself stuck in? After days and days of clawing at stone, xisuma finally breaks into a cavern filled with faint light. After discovering the friendly acolotls, he notices a strange blue mass floating in the water.... and is almost startled to death when he sees the skull faintly showing through the slime, and the familiar wobbly voice coming from it. "Xisuma?"

- Doc and Grian (and later on, ren) spawned on the same mountain. Grian, of course, at the very top: stuck in the endless snowpeak, towering high above the clouds. Doc, meanwhile, ended up at the base, surrounded by snow and goats and giant taiga trees as far as the eye could see. Once Ren got stuck in the ravine, he often heard a familiar scream before a sickening splat every now and again, as the ravine lies almost completely below the highest peak. He's afraid to check his communicator.

- @/therainofsweetmelody

- grian’s practically given up since there’s not much for him to do. there’s no food and his hands are too frozen to mine. a little fox stays by his side at least. he’s about to freeze again and his health is low and he hears crumching footsteps approaching. he assumes its the iceologer coming for him but instead he hears “grian?” and he can make out blurry figures before he passes out and wakes up wrapped up in a blanket infromt of a fire. (whoevers managed to find and rescue him is up to you :D) (Shade's notes: the person who found him was Doc, and he took him back to Ren's cabin to warm up)

- anonymous

- Scar isn't the only one changed by the time he reaches spawn. Impulse drags himself up onto land finally, breathing heavily, and there's something different about him. Sharper teeth. The shadow he casts more inconsistent. Always faintly smells like saltwater. And his eyes glow faintly, a pale washed-out non-color like light at the bottom of the ocean. Something suggesting nonhuman geometry. Something sleeping that had to reawaken to escape. ~@betweenlands

- Eventually, Etho spawns in a jungle. By a complete stroke of luck, he sees the smoke of a campfire. Tango and Zedaph are happy to see someone- anyone- else. Especially when it turns out Etho somehow managed to get the coordinates of a certain Ocean Temple. Sure, it's far, but they can make it. After all, there's an 'I' in team ZIT, and they aren't leaving him behind.

- @/rayveewrites

- (summary of a couple different writing peices) After escaping the Guardian Temple, Impulse set out to find any other Hermit he could. He has gained some unnerving qualities and abilities that he doesn't really understand, but he's trying not to think about that right now. After defeating several mobs he should not have been able to defeat with his level of progress, he now possesses one Totem of Undying. He met up with Zedaph, Tango, and Etho on their way to find him. They are now hosting him at their campsite and are glad he is safe, but Etho is unnerved and suspicious of his more unsettling attributes.

- I had sent this idea right after the inbox closed, rip. But anyways - what if mumbo ended up befriending the evokers and pilligers in the woodland mansion? Of course, it wouldnt be like that at first- the constant death to the axes and swords and magic, the growls and yelling and cursed glares. But he always came back to work on the redstone and evoker magic in a desperate attempt to contact the others. Eventually, the evoker stops sending their vex, and the pilligers stop swinging their weapons

- @/therainofsweetmelody

- (Scattered AU) After Scar gives in to the Vex. Bdubs is barely conscious to begin with; dying to the void so many times really took it out of him in every way possible. But when he is awake, what he sees makes him scared. Scar with faded, cold eyes. Scar with transparent wings, gone in a blink. Scar being able to do things he shouldn't. Scar says it's to get them out of there, but every day he gets a little paler, a little colder, and Bdubs grows more worried. - M

- @/petrichomeraki

- Perhaps xb and Iskall are on opposite ends of the same desert? On one side, high sand dunes covering miles, with a single desert temple and isolated desert village hidden amongst the cliffs and hills. On the other, the deep flatt valley next to a Mesa mountain, flat nothingness stretching far past the horizon. It would still take quite a long time for them to find each other, but at least there's a change they could meet... and, perhaps, over that mountain, cub could be somewhere in the mesa

-@/therainofsweetmelody

- Iskall and Xb eventually find each other in the desert. Sunburned, dehydrated, and sand-blasted, they hug when they first meet despite not knowing each other well. And they try their best not to die, because what are the chances they'll ever find each other again? Two heads are better than one for finding their way to the rest of the hermits.

-@/basaltdragon

- Its probably a week or so of falling before bdubs managed to move enough to finally see the end islands just barely rendering in the distance. As someone had mentioned, perhaps he became so hopeful that he missed his mark, hitting the ground with a sickening splat just blocks beside scar. It took bdubs almost another week to get forward enough to see the islands again. This time, he landed right on scar... sending the vex back to his spawn several islands away, and leaving bdubs alone for days

-@/therainofsweetmelody

- While Bdubs and Scar are more than happy to have found each other again, their moments together are tense and filled with gaps of uncomfortable silence. There's an unspoken agreement hanging over them: Scar doesn't question Bdubs' frozen and frail state, and Bdubs pretends not to notice how Scar's skin has gotten pale and ghost-like, or how he glances behind him often, like he's being followed by a shadow only he can see. Though of course, Bdubs does notice. The whole server does. Grian wakes up in a cold sweat from a dream of Scar's ruthless attempts to destroy the mycelium resistance. Cub feels his own ties to the vex magic acting up once again, now worrying more than ever what Scar may have encountered in this broken world. Even Mumbo's evoker friend begins acting different, though Mumbo can't seem to determine whether it's out of excitement or fear...

-@/crows-in-space

- Scattered AU After the Wels meeting Hels Headcanon I imagine maybe Hels offers a deal to insure his safety on the Hermitcraft Server in exchange for Wels safety in the Nether. Wels very reluctantly agrees adding to the deal that Hels won’t hurt anyone. To bad he didn’t notice his Evil counterpart cross his fingers while shaking on it.

- anonymous

- Scattered AU:  TFC spawns on the main end island, dragon and all. With out proper preparation he’s been stuck in a death loop since the world’s start. Sometimes, right before he dies, he wishes that the janky respon would de-age his body; he’s not the agile young man who could take down the dragon solo anymore.

- @liagrace-b

- Scattered!Grian can’t fly. His normal down-featherly wings look like every feather has been plucked off, leaving the very sensitive skin open to the elements. But the world’s code itself has altered the physics of the wings themselfs. Grian can feel how much heavier the wing structure sits on his back, meaning that they couldn’t let him glide even if fully feathered. Poor Grian hasn’t survived the freezing cold long enough to know if his feathers would grow back with enough time.

- anonymous

- EX somehow gets into the scattered mix. Spawning in the Deep Dark, the exiled admin is terrified, and will stop at nothing to find his brother. 🌙

- (Scattered AU) Scar and Bdubs, after months(?) of travel, make it to the Ender Dragon's island. Bdubs is scared for both of their lives; he is in no condition to fight, he can't even STAND, and he's so, so afraid to die and be condemned to falling forever in the void once again. Scar says nothing, only gently setting his friend down behind an obsidian pillar before his skin goes completely translucent, his eyes clouding white. (Paraphrased: Scar defeats the dragon, him and Bdubs meet up with TFC)

- @/petrichormeraki

- the plugins do not work, so singleplayer sleep is out. Beds do reset spawn point, so the Hermits who spawned in a place where they can get them would do well to make several and use them as checkpoints along their journey (and hope that they don't get broken, especially for those who had to escape death loops....)

- (my answer to some questions)

- Those trapped in death loops change, adapting until they aren't harmed anymore or till they escape. After all, what are players if not adaptable?

- @permafrost782

- Xisuma blames his broken helmet for being unable to admin, as some sort of comfort. But there is no comfort there. The truth is, not even Joe, Tango, Cub, or Hypno can access the chat, can even begin to run commands to fix what has gone wrong. If they could, they would have teleported everyone to 0,0 and reset the worldspawn. Those partnered with any of the admins feel a certain kind of hopelessness. Those without feel a different kind of hopeless.

- @/basaltdragon

- To add to the scattered AU: Though i had seen someone explain the void connecting to the end so Bdubs gets out of that fall, i had the thought of this; What if eventually the void loops around with the overworld's sky, so he's basically in a continuous loop if falling to his death and respawning in the void until he finally is lucky enough in his falls to get over water and live. After that he just has to stay alive otherwise he returns to the void..

-@aetosofvalla

- Somewhere, in the back of Scar’s vex-addled mind, there’s the worry of Jellie. Where is she? Is she with another hermit? Did she spawn in with another village again and will he have to find her again? -🟣

- (Scattered AU) Cub and Scar have been linked by the Vex ever since their deal. One day, Cub's iron armor burns against his skin all at once, and through the searing pain is a horrifying realization that Scar has given in. - M

-@/petrichormeraki

- After a while Cub gets the resources to build a nether portal, but then he finds his portal has connected with someone else's. He finds himself lost again, without access to the farms he's built or the resources he's gathered, but at least he knows a friend is close.

- anonymous

- The End duo come across another end city. There’s a boat at the far end. Scar flies up on delicate vex wings to get the spare elytra and other loot. They’ve been walking for far too long. He floats down (as if he had the slow-falling effect. There’s only health in the brewing stand. Bdubs’ worry for Scar increases) with an extra set of trousers, boots, an elytra, the potions and a pic. Scar offers the elytra to Bdubs. He refuses. It’ll take longer to walk, but he never wants to fall again🟣

- Mumbo gets caught up in redstone work and doesn't bother trying to find anyone else. So when another hermit finally finds him, he has to stop his evoker friend from attacking. Whether or not he's successful is another thing.

- Anonymous

- (Scattered AU) Consider. When Doc finds Grian on the mountain peak while exploring the terrain, a message sends through everyone's communicators. <Grian was blown up by a Creeper>. Doc doesn't get a death message that time, despite both of them suffering the consequences of a surprised Doc in a server where mob-oriented hermits are more volatile than they should be. Doc doesn't go looking for other hermits again after that, and Grian is shocked into numbness at the dawning realization that his monster friends might be so much worse off than he thought. - M

- @/petrichormeraki

A summary of where things stand so far

- scattered au pog!!! hypno is in a seemingly endless flowery field. it was nice at first, but there's no trees, no food, and hardly any water. the sun is so hot. flowers aren't filling. hypno thought he liked being alone.

- Anonymous

- Mumbo doesn’t succumb to the magic of the mansion like perhaps Cub and Scar have, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t entirely unaffected- his skin becomes a little more washed out, instincts a little more violent- he certainly can’t go into villages anymore, otherwise the iron golem will smash him to bits

- @/fluffy-papaya

- With Scar using Vex magic, the Vex turn their attention to Cub, trying to tempt him at every turn. More then once he's found his mask in one of his chests, staring up at him, or awoken in a cold sweat from a dream full of vex. So far, he's resisted the temptation. Wether that lasts is another question entirely.

-@/bat-connoisseur

- Maybe eventualy hypno realises Even flowers would need water to grow, or that the bees must have a bee hive somewhere around here, and the bee hive is always connected to a tree(I think thats the case in Minecraft). So he tries to find where the buzzing comes from and follow the bees around.

- @/ciaravixen

- cleo bases a lot of her identity around being a zombie, right? she probably isnt too happy to be cured. she probably cries all the time it takes her to heal. it had to be done, but that doesnt mean she has to like it. and she doesnt, not one little bit.

- Anonymous

- that ask about Mumbo not bothering to look for anyone got me thinking.... Mumbo getting too caught up in his work with the evokers to look for the others. Mumbo making friends with the illagers. Mumbo knowing that it's completely reasonable that nobody has found him yet, but still getting the creeping feeling that no one is coming for him. Mumbo spending all his time with his new friends because, after all, they're here, and the hermits aren't... All this to say that, when the hermits eventually do find him, he might not be very inclined to leave...

- @/crows-in-space

- At one point, Mumbo's new friends are just...watching him try to do his stuff, observing. Mumbo's getting increasingly frustrated when ne of the evokers watching him breaks off and hands him something. At first he thinks its a totem of undying, its shaped like one, but its strange. Made out of iron, and its eyes are diamonds instead of emeralds. Then it starts to burn his hands and he passes out from the pain. When he wakes, its gone and he moves on, a bit more wary of his 'friends'. Maybe it was a mean joke, or some kinda of strange inhiation for the mansion maybe Except next time he's frustrated, he thows his hands up annoyed and fangs rise out of the ground around him and snap at the air. He cries out, confused, before looking at his hands which almost look like they've been painted with gray paints. it wont come off. He seems mentally the same but now he starts to experiment with his new found abilities. Maybe they can help with his redstone or even find others.

- Anonymous

- after trying a poisonous flower, hypno respawns back in the field. this time, he tries walking in a different direction. maybe this is the way out.

- Anonymous

- The flowers in Hypno’s area are just so perfect... blooming dandelions don’t lose their seeds when he brushes against them, petals that are crushed underfoot quickly regain their shape- and if his mind wasn’t so affected, he would’ve noticed the flower he picked was quickly replaced by another

- @/fluffy-papaya

- The Moobloom has one unique feature: The ability to leave behind flowers in its path... that is, the ability to alter the world around it simply by walking. These flower plains are not particularly large, maybe eight or so chunks across in each direction, but glitched world generation spawned in a herd of mooblooms, and all they've been doing is walking around causing little distortions, one on top of the other. From the inside, where Hypno is standing, the plains go on forever. The air is thick with buttercup pollen that's slowly dulling his sense of space and time. He has to pull it together, somehow. Force the world to recognise that he's walking forwards in a straight line. Or he'll be wandering in circles forever...

- @/draconic-dreams

- another hermit- maybe beef? sees the edge of a deep, fragrant field. on the horizon, not far away, is hypno, walking in circles. he calls but he cannot hear beef. something tells the man not to go into that field- at least, not without a flint and steel. (Shade note: Beef and Joe saved Hypno and are currently sheltering him (unconscious) in their spawn sanctuary)

- anonymous

- Maybe if they went through the exit portal and it glitched but good. They don't think about the fact it should send them back to their spawns, Scar feels something at the back of his mind that very much isn't him tell him to change his mind, stay in this place becuase they'll just be trapped if they try to leave, but Bdubs grabs his arm and jumps in before Scar can say anything. For a second, blessed silence, Scar's mind feels clear and normal. then they show up at world spawn and scare theother

- anonymous

(Shade note: people at the spawn haven now include Joe, Beef, Hypno, TFC, Scar, and Bdubs)

- Once Keralis and Cleo are healed up, the village gang starts going to 0,0 to try to meet up with others. On the way, they find a flower forest (potentially the same one Hypno’s in). They find some mooblooms and fall in love (this was def not done bc I want some fluff, nope not at all /s) -🟣

- Mumbo receives a set of robes from his evoker friend. He’s loathe to get rid of his suit, but at the same time... well, all the better to fit in, right? This is a glitch and fluke anyway, and he might as well blend in if the illagers ever turn on him. That’s it. That’s the only reason he tosses the suit jacket into the fireplace, don’t be silly. It has nothing to do with the feeling that he just doesn’t want to leave...

- anonymous

- I’m imagining Shattered Impulse looking like the Fishman from Shape of Water + the teeth of an Angler fish and the ability to unhinge his jaw. Poor guy probably gets mistaken for a glitched mob when someone finds him.

- @/fandomrecycling

- Yes hello it's me again. After the pollen spells breaks for Hypno (and whoever else might have tried to save him beforehand...), he notices he's a little different. he can't always control how he moves, he doesn't like eye contact, and he takes an even bigger interest in his, well, interests than before. Basically Tourettic Hypno go brrr (I am tourettic so feel free to ask me clarification!)

- @/fireflower-dusk

- I don't think Keralis has been mentioned except for being in the nether so I would like to contribute that he spawned in that soul sand and skeleton biome that has almost nothing in it.

- anonymous

- Mumbo, being hundreds of thousands of blocks out from spawn, is the last hermit to be found. Even after the glitch was fixed, Mumbo was so caught up in his research and new abilities that he no longer felt it mattered. He'd been apart from the hermits for well over a year now; and a long time ago he gave up hope that they'd come back for him. This was, of course, until he woke up one morning to a disturbance outside. When he goes to check the source of the racket, he's left frozen in place at the sight of Iskall on his mansion's doorstep. And at the end of it all, despite Mumbo telling himself that he was better alone, Iskall's hand on his shoulder, reassuring that "Yes, I'm here, yes, I'm real, and no, I'm not leaving, you spoon." Is enough for Mumbo to break, clinging to Iskall as if he'd disappear at any moment, murmuring "I'm sorry" over and over like a broken record. -🧸

- Maybe after Wels and Hels make their deal, and Wels gets some gold gear and a respawn anchor to click, Hels shows him how to create a portal to Hels the place to which from there, they think they can get into the overworld. The only catch being that to get in to Hels the place you need to focus all of you emotions onto pure hatred and anger, but the question is could Wels do it?

- Anonymous

- Hels taunts Wels about how no one came to get him, and plants ideas about how this was done on purpose, about how he's the only one to spawn in the nether for a reason. He tells him the hermits want him gone. And Wels of course becomes angry but he becomes angry at Hels for trying to tell him his friends didn't care about him. He's also angry at himself though, maybe for thinking he hasn't done enough to make his friends want to keep him around. He is never mad at the hermits though, never them

- TFC's concerned. Even if he thinks it's great he found Bdubs and Scar, the latter shouldn't be able to just kill the ender dragon alone. TFC doesn't know much about Scar but the man can barely fly usually, why did he turn into a vex, anyway? vexes don't exist in the end. TFC need to ask, at least to make sure he's ok, but everytime he tries he stops in his track once the cold, icy blue eyes stare back at him. devoid of the usual warmth his green ones have.

- Anonymous

- (Scatter AU) Saw someone mention the other ops on the server and had a thought: Tango is a programmer with a specialty in game programming. He’s probably sitting at the campfire thinking of every single way the game must have been corrupted to cause this many problems. If he could just get into the code, maybe he could fix some of these problems. I’ll bet he’s driving himself a little crazy thinking of everything that could be done to fix the world and not being able to do anything...

- Anonymous

- Cub was lucky, he thinks. Seeing the many death messages in chat, he's torn between gratitude that he's ended up with what almost looks like a normal spawn, and worry for his friends. After gathering enough resources to stay reasonably safe, he knows what he has to do next. So when he encounters Xb, he eventually suggests he takes some resources and a bed he's salvaged from the abandoned village and heads towards 0,0, hoping there'll be someone there. (1/3)But as for him... well, there's an obvious place to head as far as he can see, for someone with a safe enough spawn point and the ability to gather resources. A place where he knows for sure he'll find someone else, someone who needs help. After all, unless this world is even more messed up that it seems, there's only one place where a player would be killed by the Ender dragon, and he knows exactly how to get there. (2/3) (Shade note: Him and xB were not successful in finding the Hermit who the mystery portal belonged to. They must have died in the Nether and returned to their spawn point. XB resists the idea that they split up, but he sees the logic in it and agrees to start the long journey for 0,0.) (pt. 3 was eaten by the inbox)

- Anonymous

- Maybe one of the reasons Cleo doesn't like being a human as much is because she had chronic pain (particularly in her back) when she was alive, and when she gets cured after meeting up with False, Stress, and Keralis, her back pain comes back (along with all the other pains of being alive)

-@/justme123abz

- Whenever Etho spawns, wherever Etho spawns, he takes it upon himself to tell each and every Hermit he can find to head towards 0,0. He's not sure why, but he believes that if they get everyone together, they can figure out how to fix the broken world.If there aren't any Hermits in sight, he'll make a sign out of whatever's avalible before going searching. It's a complete pain to try and build anything coherent out of sand and cactus, but he has to try. He has to get everyone together. It's their best hope. It's their only hope.Even Evil X. Even Hels. Everyone. He doesn't care about past grievances. They need to get through this. And their only option is to do it together. (Shade note: He doesn't stay with Team ZIT for long. He probably dies trying to protect them from something, knowing that it will only result in him finding another Hermit anyway. Even though he himself isn't making any progress toward the origin, he counts it as a victory every time he can guide one of his friends just a little bit closer.)

- Doc Ren and Grian himself thought that him being found and safe would fix everything right? yea no he has horrible fevor, he struggles to retain warmth depsite 2 feet from a fire, he's tired and has a hard time stay awake becuase on the mt he slept alot, he barley eats cuz he cant hold too much down rn. He cant stand being alone or he'll start to panic, ands he's just trying to ignore the new fox fetures he has desperately when he's aware enough to do. Doc and Ren have a hard time ahead of them.

- Anonymous

- Mumbo was trying to make a machine with redstone and evoker magic to contact the hermits right?so what if he did build the machine ad at first his only way to get the magic was to go annoy the evoker hoping he would try to hit him and instead hit the machine to power it. Plan backfired so many times because of the vex killing him before. So when Mumbo becomes apprentice he wants to try power the machine himself but it breaks because he can't control how much magic he uses yet.time to study magic

-@/artsarasp

- Etho dies with the Zit and ends up back in it. Next he ends up in X's spawn, there's no one around but he finds the bloody tunnel X punched himself, and races down it to see in the distance Xisuma and Jevin in a cave.He calls out to them, only to get overwhelmed by zombies that just spawned, He manages to gurgle out 0,0 before he dies again. (He's now determined to be the messenger of meetings, even willing to die on purpose to find them all). After that? Ren's old spawn, now he has to track ren

- anonymous

- I guess hypno’s been... hypnotizd 👉😎👉

- We need more Jevin and xisuma interaction content, be it fluff or angst, how aware is jevin by the time Xisuma gets there? How many axolotls do they take with them on the way to the surface?

- @/ciaravixen

(Shade comment: We need more Jevin and xisuma interaction content, be it fluff or angst, how aware is jevin by the time Xisuma gets there? How many axolotls do they take with them on the way to the surface? )

- Mumbo having to learn how to use the magic, the evoker will probably also try to teach him how to summon the vex, even if Mumbo really wants to just focus on the magic and not the evocation.What if he's able to summon Scar since he gave his name to the vex? just by accident and Mumbo gets so startled by Scar's new appearance that he immediately interrupts the evocation and makes Scar dissappear. Scar reappears where he was before confused cause for a moment he saw Mumbo?did he allucinante??

- @/artsarasp

- Scattered AU! So what if what happened with EX and Hels happened with old hermits to? Like Biffa, Generikb, Jessassin etc etc. Everyone is concerned as it is but then they see a death message from one of them and realize it's even worse then they thought.

- Anonymous

- Once Wels and Helssknight are in Hels the have to sneak around a lot. Hels isn’t as popular there as he had previously boasted, that’s why he had tried to take over the over world. Cue heart to heart talk before a Hels version of another hermit cuts them off. (Can you pick the Hermit I’m kinda stuck here)

- Anonymous

- Iskall must have not even known the direction he was walking from his desert spawn, so its purely by luck he ended up finding the mansion mumbo resides in- his cybernetic eye is fixed almost instantly upon his arrival by mumbo and iskall feels his hope fades as he realises they’re /so/ far from the hermits. I also guess he must be worried about whats happening to his friend right before him, mumbo wouldnt willingly give into the vex and evoker magic right? 1/2 But he isn’t so sure anymore, the days at the mansion are quiet and uncomfortable as Iskall has to be wary of the illagers that walk the halls, mumbo assures him of his safety, but theres no light in his eyes - he doubts the illagers welcomed mumbo at first- The usual banter isn’t there at all, its dead silence as mumbo keeps on working and Iskall can see how paler his skin becomes and the blue scars that litter his body 2/2

- Anonymous

- Etho died and respawned at the true spawn once. Beef was elated to see him and was afraid if he let him go, he would disappear. He didn’t want to lose his friend again. In the end, he does, he was actually with Etho when he dies, and he never lets the feeling go.

- @/harley-the-pancake

- aww poor etho! At least he's okay with this new role as messenger. Now i can just imagen he ends up at Ren's spawn and manages to track the man, nearly dying but staying alive and- thats a house in the distance! He goes over and nearly runs into Doc, who invites him in surprised and they catch each other up, their spawns and Etho's situation. They're overjoyed to hear about the others and Ethos glad to see them realtivly okay. Grian's condition is worrying however, changed and still weak (1) They agree they need to start heading to 0,0 but Ren is nervous about leaving safety, Doc wants them safe, and with Grian still sick and weak from laying in snow for weeks it'll take a bit until he's stable enough to travel (he'll probs have to be carried anyways). Etho stays for a few days at their insistence for rest, he wants to keep going there is more hermits out there he hasn't found, they are insistent that he take time to recover. Then, he lets himself die. Off to the next hermit! (2)

- Anonymous

- This is for the very very beginning, but maybe before False meets up with Cleo, she spawns in a warm ocean biome. Coral structures fill the water around her, and tropical fish dart between them. It would be almost peaceful, were it not for the fact that False was encased in a cage of coral.It’s a gamble every time. She has to try and smash her way out of her colorful prison before the tide rolls in, slow and steady water rising up her body and over her head. The water makes her movements clumsy and arduous as she tries to free herself, racing against time to escape the awful tide. (Pt 2) OH SORRY I HAD AN IDEA (this is from the coral False anon)What if Stress and False both spawn in that biome and they have to try and help each other out before the tide comes in?? Added angst if one of the times one manages to escape but the other doesn’t

- Anonymous

- (scattered au) Every time that a hermit dies the universe and the world file starts to corrupt, the way that things are going if everything doesn't go back to normal soon, then the world will crumble on itself with the hermits inside.

- Anonymous

- Admins log, day: ⬛⬛⬛ I've finally managed to find my way to the drip stone caves, weirdly I think I may have a good connection down here, I'll try to contact the others, if they haven't forgotten about me yet. (Shade note: Far away in the woodland mansion, Mumbo rubs his eyes and marks down another failure on his latest contraption. How long will it be until he can generate a signal? He has no way of knowing that, for a single moment, it worked. He stopped checking his communicator a long time ago, so he doesn't see the single message until much later: <Xisuma> can anyone hear me?)

- At some point Etho cycles round to Doc's spawn. His friend is long gone but there are five creepers in formation watching him. Waiting for something.It takes a moment for him to recall the trick of unfocusing his ears just right, so that their hisses resolve into words. He hasn't had to do it for years, after all. He hasn't run into General Spaz since he left Chocolate Island.“It'ssss been a while, Esssssho” the General says. “Let'sssss make a wager”The General reaches out for a handshake... it seems the glitch finally gave him a pair of arms.(ancient Etho lore go brrrr)

- Anonymous

- Both the snow and the void are cold, and getting stuck in there means getting frostbite a lot is fairly likely, so Grian and Bdubs would be unlikely to get out with all their fingers...

- @/bat-connoisseur

- Based on a little piece of this ask where it was mentioned that Hypno passed out only three steps outside the flower biome, I start to wonder, how long was he wandering in circles without food? Why did he collapse so immediately? Was the biome itself perhaps sustaining him? Keeping him "healthy" (if you could call it that) and alive? COULD he have starved to death if he hadn't been pulled out? Or would he have just kept walking? And walking. And walking...

-@/asexualbert

- An idea focusing on evil xisuma. He ended up spawning on the nether roof, stuck with nothing but mushrooms and bedrock as far as the eye can see. No communication, no water, no way out. He can probably eat the mushrooms, at the very least.... but there may be some bad side effects from it. It's disheartening and lonely up there, dying from starvation over. And over. And over. At one point, etho may have spawned there as well... but of course, he wouldnt last long. Condemned to endless roof...

-@/therainofsweetmelody

- Okay, hear me out: after Hypno’s been out of his illusion for a while, he starts to get headaches. He doesn’t think anything of it, until he wakes up one day with small horns growing and flowers in his hair. In conclusion: Moobloom!Hypno

- @/harley-the-pancake

Art:

- An Impulse

- A Grian

- A Guardian Impulse

- A Void Bdubs by @/sweetest-honeybee

- This Hypno by @/irys-97

- an Iskall and a Grian

- a fox Grian

- A Guardian Impulse

- a suffering Xisuma

- Mumbo and Evoker doodles

Writing:

Up. He needs to go up. He spawned too deep in the world, and though he'd heard of underground spawns there was no way, no way in the world that being so deep under was normal. Every cave he crawled up either came to a dead end or opened into a massive, mob-filled cavern, and somehow he still hadn't found even half a mineshaft. He could spend hours upon hours painfully clawing his way through the stone, but he keeps convincing himself it'll be faster to find a cave that leads to the surface. The pounding heartbeat of a warden stills rings in his ears, an ever-present reminder of his terrible luck. If only he could get some wood. Just a few planks, some torches. Anything. It's almost as if the stone doesn't want him to leave.

- @basaltdragon

- Buried by @arts-and-drafts

- Cleo grits her teeth and pulls a leather cap low over her head and stays on the outskirts of the taiga village, where the less scrupulous people go. She can't stay here long, if an iron golem catches her she's going to end up social spawning a bunch of less sapient friends and wiping out the village. The air is cold and thin out here, close to the mountains. The strays leave her alone. She's not sure how to feel about that. ~@betweenlands

- "A poem, by Impulse" by @/rayveewrites

- Pulse by @/arts-and-drafts

- Unnamed Impulse fic by @bat-connoisseur

- Another Impulse fic by @/betweenlands

- Don't think about it by me (@shadeswift99 )

- A poetic fic by @irys-97

- this short anon piece

- If I lose myself by @/arts-and-drafts

- Mountainside by @/basaltdragon

- Sleepwalk by @/betweenlands

- This Grian fic by @silverechosandsmileymasks

- A Jevin fic by @/basaltdragon

- This Hypno piece by @/fireflower-dusk

- This Iskall anon

- Alternate Impulse fic by @/rayveewrites

- Short Grian fic by @rk9-mew2

- an alternate headcanon for Mumbo

- This Xisuma fic by @/bat-connoisseur

[mymothershumility]

neverflownwithme asked: “Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ Part 1 } & { Part 2 } & { Part 3 } & { Part 4 } & { Part 5 }

{ Part 6 } & { Part 7 } & { Part 8 } & { Part 9 } & { Part 10 }

{ Part 11 }

{ @neverflownwithme }

“This is the last of it.”

Gaze lifts from her desk, quill coming to pause above the parchment she has been recording the contents of the hidden room upon. The process has been a lengthy one, stretching a week and a half after the room’s discovery. Many of the scrolls and tomes from within the space have been accounted for, recorded upon Laira’s parchment as she looked over each and every one.

There are a number of journals among the tomes that she has skimmed, personal ones penned by the hands of Lady Shiera Seastar, Princess Rhaena of Pentos, and Queen Visenya Targaryen. There are others of an unknown origin, as well, penned in an unfamiliar --yet strikingly familiar-- hand.

Thus far, her work has centered around sorting and identifying the tomes, journals, and scrolls that had been scattered upon the desks and shelves within the room. She and Hal have yet to tackle the various trunks that have been pulled from the space. They remain stacked on the opposite side of her solar, shrouded in mystery. It is what Hal now carries easily in his hold, crossing the room to set the last trunk among the others.

When Laira looks back across her solar, she finds the space of the room void of everything but the desks and shelves that are set against the walls as well as the Myrish carpet lining the floor. The look of it seems entirely foreign for a moment. Yet, despite all of their work, there are still a number of questions looming above them. Laira has yet to finish one of the tomes pulled from among the stacks in full. It will take her and Hal both months to do so if they attempt such a task. Of that, she is certain.

And, in the end, it is possible that such a task will be the only way to discover the answers they so desperately wish for.

Setting her quill back upon her parchment, Laira pens the last of her entries upon the surface. There are well over a hundred journals, tomes, and scrolls upon her list. With her recording finished, Laira sets her quill back into its inkwell. She is glad to have the task done, though her back and her eyes now ache because of it.

“Visenya Targaryen and Shiera Seastar penned many of these,” Laira comments, fingers brushing upon the Lyseni crafted journal that had once belonged to the Star of the Sea. She traces the silver three headed dragon that is emblazoned across the amethyst leather, letting a soft sigh escape her. “Princess Rhaena of Pentos has penned several of them as well,” she goes on. “There are others as well, though I cannot discern to whom they once belonged.”

The journals and scrolls that she mentions are scrawled in the language of the Old Empire. Of that, Laira is certain of. She recognizes the language as easily among the ancient pages just as she does among Shiera Seastar’s recounts. What strikes her odd above all else are the mentions of the Freehold, of the descriptions of the dragonlords and the never ceasing ebb and flow as power slipped from one to another and back around again.

There is more, though... recounts of the Five Forts and the Great Empire of the Dawn… of the Blood Betrayal that had ushered in the first Long Night.

Such recounts only spawn additional questions. They only serve in deepening a tale that is already wrapped in far too much mystery.

“Perhaps a change of scenery would do us both good,” Hal recommends, leaving the trunks for then. He leans against the sturdy form of Laira’s desk when he is near enough, casting a look down at the work that she has done. “It seems as if we’ve scarcely left these walls of late.” They have had good reason to. Hal is aware of such a thing. Still, he believes setting their task aside for a time could be of benefit to them. It is possible their answers may be easier to find if they look for them with fresh eyes.

Laira listens as he speaks, gaze drifting over him as he settles his form against the edge of her desk. She cannot disagree with his words. She finds herself smiling, in fact, at his suggestion. It is a welcomed one. “I am surprised that you would object to spending your time secluded away with me, my Lord,” she teases him, watching the way the lines of his body seem to soften with her words. Such a reaction has become more frequent as of late. Laira enjoys witnessing it. “Pray tell,” she begins, chuckling as he moves and bends to set his hands upon the armrests of her chair, “have you grown bored of me already?”

“I feel you already know the answer to such a question, Your Grace,” he says, moving closer to her when she reaches to press her hand beneath his chin. “I believe you merely enjoy teasing me,” he accuses, leaning to steal a kiss from her.

She laughs against his mouth, fingers shifting until her palm is pressed to the line of his jaw. “No more than you enjoy teasing me,” Laira reminds, speaking when he pulls from her. Her thumb briefly strokes against his cheek, the pad of her finger tracing the line of a faint scar hidden beneath the light stubble of his beard. “Did you have something particular in mind for us to partake in?”

Their week has already been one of great change and challenge. In the midst of their exploration and discovery within the walls of her solar, Sansa and Helen had arrived on Dragonstone from King’s Landing in the midst of a torrential storm. Having sailed upon one of the Velaryon ships that often ferried supplies from the capital to the islands of Claw Isle, Driftmark, and Dragonstone, the girls had arrived in the dead of night, utterly terrified after additional events that had transpired within the capital.

Such events still set her husband upon edge when they speak of them. They do much the same to her. There had been little favor for the Tyrells in her husband’s heart when he arrived on Dragonstone, having already forbidden a marriage alliance that Olenna had attempted to put into place between Sansa and Willas Tyrell while he was occupied in the Stormlands. There had been little favor left in her with her husband’s revelations.

When the girls had arrived --cold and hungry and fearful-- only to reveal that Olenna had not only attempted to see Sansa married away, but had also attempted to betroth Helen to Oliver Redwyne’s son, any favor that had lingered within her and her husband for the Tyrell matriarch had burned away to ash.

“The day seems as though it may remain favorable,” Hal says. Those days upon Dragonstone are few and far between, the weather ever changing and often giving way to storms. “Perhaps we could journey down to the village with the girls,” he proposes. “Or take them down to the shore.”

“I believe they would enjoy time on the shore.” Laira has made her fair share of journies down to the village since arriving upon the island. And while the markets are filled with trade from across the sea, she believes that the girls would enjoy their day all the more if granted the time to play. Laira is uncertain when another fair day such as this one will occur on the small island.

It will be best to take advantage of it while possible.

Hal takes hold of her hand as she speaks, turning so his mouth can catch along the inside of her wrist. The kiss that he plants against her skin is whisper soft. “My thoughts as well,” he agrees. He is straightening in the next moment, drawing Laira carefully up from her seat as he goes.

She laughs again, both at his affection and his enthusiasm. Laira is happy to see it after the events of the week. There have been too many times as of late that she has seen the weight of Olenna’s betrayal pressing down upon him.

Such a matter, Laira will be certain is addressed. She will see justice given where it is due. Daenerys would have no need for a Hand who acted in such a traitorous manner. She was confident in that.

“I will ask the cooks to prepare something light for us to carry with us,” Laira said. They had broken their fast with the girls when they had woken. Midday would be upon them shortly, though, and hunger would soon set in upon them once again.

It takes little to convince her niece and her good-cousin to accompany her and Hal down onto the shore. Helen is quick to agree to such a journey, entirely enthralled with the sea and all the mysteries that it holds. And, wherever it was that Helen journeyed, Sansa was always quick to follow after her. It has become far more uncommon, in fact, to find Sansa away from Helen’s side. Both she and Hal find some comfort in such knowledge.

For, wherever the girls travel, their direwolves are there to go with them. Only a fool would attempt to harm the girls with such staunch protection at their sides.

No more than an hour later, Helen is skipping along the smooth flagstones of the courtyard with Sansa’s fingers wrapped securely in her hand. Rose and Dawn trot along in front of them, heads and ears high as they observe everything around them. Several steps behind the girls and their direwolves, Laira walks arm-in-arm with Hal. Her husband’s direwolf companion has positioned herself at Laira’s opposite side, having shown herself to be increasingly protective as of late. She suspects Hal’s own mood to be a contributing factor. His bond with Moone has already shown itself to be similar in nature to her own bond with Viserion.

And, as Viserion often feeds off Laira’s own emotions, she believes that her husband’s direwolf companion does quite the same where his own are concerned.

“They both seem excited,” Laira murmurs to Hal, smiling at Helen’s chattering and Sansa’s answering giggles. Her young niece has been engaged in excited conversation with her eldest cousin since learning of their excursion down to the shore.

“Neither of them have been afforded a great amount of time upon the shore or in the waters of the sea,” Hal tells her. Despite having lived for a time in White Harbor, Helen has never been able to wander about on the beach or play in the water as she has been able to during her time upon the island stronghold. The beaches at White Harbor differ vastly from Dragonstone’s own. The shoreline of much of the North, in fact, is rocky and unforgiving. Its waters are much the same, too frigid even in the heat of summer to swim about in. “However, Helen has been exposed to the water far more than Sansa,” he goes on.

His cousin had confided not so long ago, in fact, that her first time spying the sea had been when she had come to King’s Landing as a bride for Joffrey Baratheon.

Laira hums in understanding, tucking herself closer to her husband’s side as they begin their trek down the winding pathways that will take them to the shore beyond the castle. “I believe they would enjoy Lys,” she says, thinking of the last time that she had visited the Free City. “It is still warm there,” she continues. “They could swim in the water if they wished to. Or, play about on the sands and look for shells at their leisure.” The beach beyond her mother’s manse within Lys had been well guarded at one time. It would be again should Laira ever return to it.

“Perhaps we will be able to make the journey there in the near future,” Hal tells her, bringing her closer when she slips more into the length of his side. He knows that Helen would enjoy the coast of the Free City, having already shown a particular love for searching out tide pools there upon Dragonstone and observing the sea life found within them. And Sansa, he knows, would love the markets.

She smiles at such a notion, leaning until she is able to brace her head against the line of his shoulder. Another quiet hum leaves her, opposite arm reaching across her so her fingers are softly pressing against the palm of his hand. She cannot stop the whispering flutter of her heart inside her chest when his own fingers --warm and strong-- curl carefully about her hand in response. “You spoil me,” she murmurs up to him.

A smile twitches up at the corners of his mouth when he feels the press of her head against the expanse of his shoulder, grows all the larger when Laira’s fingers seek out the expanse of his own hand. “You’ve spoken fondly of Lys on more than one occasion,” Hal reminds, thumb stroking along the bumps of her knuckles. “I don’t believe it’s spoiling you to return you to a place that holds such fond memories for you.”

“No?” she questions, the word marred with a gentle laugh. “A fortunate thing for myself, then.” She pauses, watching as Helen goes dashing out onto the sand ahead of them. The young girl is giggling as she runs, her direwolf giving chase after her down the beach. Sansa follows after her, though she walks instead of runs. Laira can hear her laughing all the same. “There are other places that I am fond of as well,” Laira goes on, still watching the girls as they make their way towards the edge of the water.

The sea around Dragonstone is often colored deep azure, though the water closer to shore is often clouded with sand that is stirred up from the storms that plague the island. Today, at least, Laira can see that the shallows are clear. The water looks incredibly inviting even from where she and Hal are walking.

“What places are those?” Hal has his own thoughts about what they may be.

“White Harbor was of particular interest to me in the short time we lingered there,” she offers. It had been a mere stop in their return to King’s Landing from the War for the Dawn. Yet, the Manderlys had shown them every courtesy possible during their stay. Laira had become especially fond of Lady Wylla and Lady Wynafryd during her time in their hall. “However, WinterfelI, I believe, is the dearest of them all to me,” she carries on.

Laira imagines that he knows the reason, can see the quick flickers of realization as they slowly settle upon him.

“The war that awaited us aside,” she continues, “I was quite happy there.”

“So was I.” Even though Hal had never grown up at Winterfell, it remained familiar. He’d spent more than enough time among its walls, visiting his family with his father. Most of his childhood had been spent among the walls of Karhold. “It was likely the company that made the stay so easy, though,” he went on, smiling at the way she was looking over at him. “I left Harrion Karstark as steward before we departed back south,” Hal reminds. He and Harrion had grown up side by side at Karhold. He was practically a brother to him. There had been no one else that Hal would have trusted to guard Winterfell for Sansa. “He would welcome us back if we decided to make the journey there.”

“We could journey there first,” she offers, her voice sincere. Laira is not opposed to such travels. The more distance, in fact, their family can put between themselves and Olenna Tyrell’s plots, the better. She will not have Sansa or Helen near enough to the woman for them to be used as potential pawns.

“We’ll look to somewhere warmer first,” Hal says, looking up in time to see Dawn bounding into the shallows. Rose is at her heels, chasing after her with high pitched yips. Mere steps from where the direwolves are playing, Sansa and Helen are crouched near a cluster of rocks. Hal doesn’t need to be closer to know they’ve discovered a tide pool. “Winterfell can wait for a time.”

“If my Lord insists.” She smiles at the quick laugh that he gives, the sound partially covered by a snort.

“Will this always be a game between the two of us?” he asks her, returning her smile.

“It is a fitting one, I believe,” Laira answers. “To accompany all other manner of teasing that we engage in.”

“If memory serves, you’re the one who began our little game.” There’s a great deal of fondness in his tone, eyes glancing back to check on the girls. They’re still enthralled with their discovery at the edge of the water. Dawn and Rose are nearby as well, at play in the shallows.

Laira laughs at his accusation, her own gaze turning skyward. Though Viserion is beyond her line of sight, Laira can feel her flying high in the cloud cover. The dragoness will descend soon enough and she will find Laira when she does. No matter where she lingered, Viserion always seemed to come to her. “I regret to say that your memory is mistaken, husband,” she says, laughter still present in her tone. “You showed yourself to be quite proficient in your teasing during our time in Oldtown,” she points out. “You began our game, in fact, the very night that followed your arrival.”

By then, they have stepped farther from the edge of the water. The cliffs now loom high above them, casting dark columns of shadow out along the sand. They are still near enough to the waves, though, that Sansa and Helen are easily seen. Laira reaches to take the canvas bag that her husband has been carrying upon his opposite shoulder, having seized the bag from her as they had departed the Great Hall. He had refused to relinquish back to her as they had walked, insisting that he be the one to carry it down for them. That she had healed from her ordeal within the capital had been reminded and acknowledged, though Hal had continued to insist he carry it in her place despite such a reminder. It is endearing, in truth, how he continues even then to worry over her in such little ways.

The cooks and the maids had done as she had requested, preparing a meal for the four of them that could be easily packed away and carried down to the shore. Mira had even been kind enough to fold the pale gray blanket from Laira’s apartments and slip it into the bag with their meal. Laira had used the blanket during one of her last visits to the beach. It is the blanket that Laira withdraws from the bag, unfolding it and spreading it out over the white sand.

Moone is quick to take up a spot along the edge of the fabric, lying so that her belly is half on the fabric and half in the sand. Her head rests against the top of her large paws, mismatched eyes watching as Rose and Dawn continue their games within the water. Laira comes to sit beside the direwolf on the blanket, feet slipping out of her sandals and legs stretching until she can rest the soles of her feet atop the cool sand. Hal pauses before he moves to sit beside her, looking out to where Helen is calling excitedly for him. She is gesturing to one of the pools that she and Sansa have located, clearly overjoyed at having discovered something of interest.

“You are being beckoned,” Laira says, smiling at the way Helen now runs for them. Dawn is at the young girl’s heels, yipping after her.

“Uncle Hal!” Helen exclaims. “Sansa and I found sea stars! Come look at them! They’re so pretty!” Helen quickly turns her attention to her aunt, smiling at her. “Will you come look too, Aunt Laira?” she asks, her tone hopeful.

“Perhaps in a few moments,” Laira says. “Take your uncle with you, though. Make him entertain you.” She motions Helen closer when Hal pretends to be distracted by something. “See if you can trick him into the water,” she whispers.

The recommendation makes Helen giggle, hand pressing against her mouth to keep her uncle from hearing. Then, she makes a grab for her uncle’s hand, pulling him along with her. “Come see, Uncle Hal!”

Hal pauses long enough to look back at Laira, his expression shifting to something more serious for a split second. “Will you be alright?” he asks. Even though they are far from King’s Landing and among trusted individuals on the island, he still worries about straying too far away from her.

“I believe that I am well guarded,” she assures, hand rising to rest itself against Moone’s head. The she-wolf had made no move to follow after Hal, remaining at Laira’s side instead. “Should I need you, I will call out for you. I have faith that you will come to my aid if I require it.”

Even if Hal had been too far from her, and Moone along with him, Laira would not have worried. Not there. Though she is still hidden from view, the Queen can now feel Viserion lower among the clouds. She is near, likely flying about the Dragonmont or about the far ends of the island. The dragoness could be to her just as quickly if she found herself in need. Still, Laira has no fear of lingering on her own there upon Dragonstone’s shore. The island is safe. Of that, Laira is certain.

Laira watches as her niece leads her husband away, only the faintest hints of reluctance entering the line of his shoulders. It fades easily enough as Helen draws him away, chattering about all that she has found with Sansa. At her side, Moone settles more into her spot, body scooting itself until she is pressed along the stretch of Laira’s own legs. The direwolf’s tail beats gently against the sand when Laira reaches to press a hand to her head, happy with the attention that she’s given.

For a time, she observes her husband and their family along the sands. Hal has always shown himself to be wonderful with children. From the first moment that Missandei had met him, she’d been drawn to him. The young scribe had remained practically attached to Hal’s side in the days that had followed Daenerys’ attack within the Holdfast, seeking safety where she had known it could be found. And, even though they were both older than Missandei, Irri and Jhiqui had shown a similar draw to him as well. Laira expected girlish infatuation in place of anything else, however. Even the stableboys there upon the island and Mira’s own daughters flocked to her husband when he was near to them.

Laira quite enjoys watching such displays. Hal is always attentive, always listening and conversing with the children that seek him out. Should the gods allow it, he will make a wonderful father. She feels her heart give a brief flutter at such a thought, grief momentarily snapping within her chest. Had poison not been slipped into her cup within the Holdfast, how close would their children have been to birth by then? Three moon turns? Possibly four? It would not have been so far away. By then, Laira would have been able to feel their movements.

It has been a time since Laira has allowed her thoughts to linger upon what was stolen from her and from Hal in the capital. She does not like the pain that swells in her heart when she does… does not like the sorrow she sees reflected in Hal’s own features when she mentions it. Still, Laira cannot help but dwell upon what might have been if someone had not struck against them.

There is nothing that can be done to right the wrongs that have been done in the past, yet there is a hopeful part of her --one that is far more idyllic-- that wishes there was something that could be done. The thought is pushed away just as quickly as it comes. She knows better than to allow foolish naivety a place within her.

The shift of Moone at her side brings her thoughts back to where they should remain. Laira reaches to press her palm to the she-wolf’s head. She feels a vibration beneath the wolf’s surface when she does, a growl emanating from her throat. Moone’s head rises a moment later, emerald and sapphire gaze settling upon something down the shore. Laira’s own gaze follows the wolf’s. There is a brief flicker of crimson and darting shadow, movement that disappears behind an outcropping of rock a split second later.

For a moment, the Queen is thrown back to the night she and Hal had discovered the room within her solar. A brief flash of memory springs forward, recollection of the being that had lingered beyond the windows of her apartment. She sees the flash of shadow and then the three glowing points of crimson light glowing in the dark.

A hand against her shoulder makes her flinch, heart fluttering wildly in her chest as fear sweeps down the column of her spine. Her head snaps to her side. Sansa is standing beside her, having drawn her hand back from her. The young girl is staring down at her, her eyes wide and hand clasped to her chest.

“Sansa,” the Queen breathes, attempting to calm herself. Her heart is still thundering wildly in her chest.

“I am sorry,” Sansa speaks, her voice small. “I thought you heard me. Please forgive me.”

Reaching, Laira sets her hand upon Sansa’s arm, her touch gentle. “You startled me, sweetling,” Laira says. “Nothing more. I was merely lost in thought,” she admits. She does not turn her gaze back down the shore, though Moone continues to watch the area. “There is nothing for you to ask forgiveness for. You have done me no harm.”

Sansa nods, mouth turning up into a little smile. “May I sit with you?” she asks. “Hal and Helen are still looking in the pools.” Her cousins have wandered a little farther down the beach, Helen perched atop Hal’s shoulders as they search out the various pools and the life that resides within them.

“I would love the company,” Laira admits. She pats the spot beside her, watching as Sansa moves and sinks down onto the blanket with her. The girl’s own sandals have been cast aside, left somewhere out upon the sands closer to the water. “Are you hungry?” she asks, gesturing to the bag at her side. “Mira and the cooks were kind enough to pack a meal for us. You are welcome to anything that you wish to have.”

“Thank you.” Sansa smiles over at the Queen --her good-cousin-- and reaches into the mentioned bag.

In the top of the bag, there are sweetened biscuits with dried cranberries and orange zest as well as savory rolls with garlic, herbs, and sharp cheese wrapped in linen napkins. Below the biscuits and rolls, the cooks had packed wooden bowls wrapped in cheesecloth. In one bowl, there are pieces of thinly sliced cured ham, the very kind that the Queen enjoyed wrapped about figs with sweetened goat cheese. In the same bowl, there are slices of firm white cheese. In the second bowl, Sansa finds carrots, radishes, and sweet peppers. The last of the bowls is filled with sweet black cherries, tart green grapes, and fresh strawberries. There are glass bottles within the bag as well, each of them filled with water.

Taking a sweet biscuit for herself, Sansa breaks a bite of it off from one of the corners. It’s heavenly tasting. The pastry is flaky and sweetened perfectly. “The biscuits are delicious,” she tells her good-cousin with a smile.

“I am glad that you like them.” Laira reaches for one of the savory rolls, breaking it in half before offering part of it to Moone. A flicker of concern slips through Laira when the direwolf does not immediately take the offering from her. Moone frequently begged her for food whenever she and Hal ate, never once refusing anything that Laira offered to her. Only a moment later, Moone stretches her head forward and gingerly takes the roll from Laira’s fingers. Her attention is turning back down the coast only a second later, focus back on the outcropping of rock along the cliffs.

Laira looks back at the area, though she cannot see anything that concerns her. The dart of crimson and shadow had likely been nothing more than her eyes playing tricks upon her. All the same, Moone’s continued focus makes her uneasy.

“Hal says that we may travel to Lys for a time,” Sansa says, taking another bite of her biscuit. “He says that it is warm there… that you have a manse within the Free City where we could stay.”

“The manse belonged to my mother,” Laira explains. “It has been held by members of our family since the dragonlords of the Old Empire reigned.”

Sansa hesitates, nibbling another bite from her biscuit. “Would we be safe there?” she asks, glancing down the beach where Hal and Helen are still walking. She does not believe that Hal will venture anywhere with them that will not be safe.

“We would ensure that you and Helen remained well protected, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, her own gaze following Sansa’s.

“I hadn’t felt safe in a long time… not until I was reunited with Hal,” Sansa admits. For so long, she’d been a caged bird… a little dove in a gilded cage. “But then…” she trails off, her eyes beginning to tear up at their edges. “Lady Olenna cannot force me to marry Lord Tyrell, can she?” Sansa questions, her voice breaking.

When Sansa had first been offered the opportunity to marry Willas, she’d thought the chance to be her only way to freedom. That had been before Queen Daenerys had helped orchestrate the plan that had stolen her away from the Lannisters. That had been before she had been reunited with Hal. All Sansa wanted now was to be with her family. She did not want to be Lady of Highgarden. She did not want to marry a man twice her age who knew nothing about her.

“What Lady Olenna attempted was treason, sweetling,” Laira murmurs. The roll in her hand is largely forgotten. She extends it out to Moone, watching the direwolf take the second half with no hesitation. She seems more at ease now, her head resting heavily against Laira’s knees. “She had no right to attempt to force you into a marriage with Lord Tyrell. She had no right to attempt to force Helen into a marriage with Lord Redwyne’s son.”

To do so while Hal had been occupied in the Stormlands and Laira had been away upon Dragonstone had been all the more underhanded.

“You needn’t worry over such a thing any longer,” Laira continues, her voice gentle. “You will not marry anyone that you do not wish to. Neither will Helen. Do you understand?”

Sansa nods as the Queen speaks, reaching to dab away the tears in her eyes. “Promise?” Sansa whispers, her voice breaking again.

“I swear to you, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, reaching to press her hand down atop Sansa’s. “If anyone attempts to force you or Helen into another marriage, they shall answer to me and they shall answer to your cousin.”

Let Lady Olenna or any other attempt such a thing with her family once again. They would have her wrath in answer to it.

Dabbing at her eyes again, Sansa sniffles and picks a dried cranberry from her biscuit. “I have always wanted to marry someone for love.” Sansa has always wished for a life and a love like those within a song. “Mother always said that love could come after… that love did not necessarily come before a marriage.” Her mother had been fortunate in her marriage, had been fortunate to have loved her father and that he had loved her in return. Sansa knew such things did not always occur. “I wish…” she trails off, considering her next words carefully.

Hal is Winterfell’s heir by Westerosi inheritance law. He has no intention to keep the Northern seat, though. He has already told Sansa as much. He will act as her regent until she is of age. Then, Winterfell will pass into her governance. It was such power that others would always see. They would see a hold on the North through her. They would see her as nothing more than a puppet to be flitted about on strings. “I wish the world would allow for someone to love me for me and not for my family’s seat,” Sansa finally admits. “I do not think that such a thing will ever be possible, though.”

The Lords of Westeros would forever look to their daughters and see tools to gain power.

“Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

Both Laira and Sansa glance up, finding Hal now standing beside their blanket. Helen is still atop his shoulders, looking down at them with a quiet little smile.

“I think that’s what Queen Daenerys intends to do,” Hal goes on, lifting Helen off his shoulders. He sets her back on her own feet, giving her a moment to become steady before he lets her go. She immediately goes to Sansa’s side, squeezing herself between her cousin and her aunt. When Sansa offers her a biscuit from the canvas bag, she eagerly takes it.

“Your cousin is right,” Laira says, smiling when Hal leans to press a kiss against the top of her head. “Daenerys wishes to build a world where little girls are no longer used as collateral to secure power.”

Laira can only hope that she succeeds in such an endeavor. The Lords of Westeros would not be so easily swayed.

The rest of their day upon the shore is without incident. Sansa and Helen linger with Laira and Hal long enough to eat a few treats from their lunch before dashing back out to play along the sand and in the shallows. The trek back up to the castle is as light as their trek down to the beach had been earlier in the day. The girls giggle back and forth between themselves, trading stories and showing one another shells that they have gathered throughout the day.

With sunset still some time away, Hal asks the stableboys to fill one of the large water basins within the gardens with fresh water. All three direwolves are damp from the sea and matted with sand from their playing. Even Moone, who had spent most of her time lingering at Laira’s side, had taken a run into the shallows not long before they departed. They will all need to be bathed and rinsed before entering the castle again.

The girls stay behind to help, Helen already starting to pour clean water over Dawn’s back as Laira walks the steps up into the Great Hall. The direwolf sits without a fuss, letting Helen do as she wishes.

It is cool inside the castle. The torches along the walls have been lit in preparation for night. As Laira walks, she can hear the chattering of the maids and the cooks within the kitchens, all of them going about their tasks. It’s a comforting sound, she realizes. Everyone within the castle seems utterly content. It’s a stark change from the Red Keep… from the attendants that had been present within the palace when Daenerys had taken the city. She lingers for a moment, poking her head into the busy space to check on all those within.

Mira gives her a smile when she sees her, seated at a small table with her daughters and her mother. Ser Aeron is seated across from Mira and her family, talking and laughing with her maid’s little girls. Celesse is pouring a splash of cream into a bowl across the kitchen. She brings it back to Ser Aeron, setting it down in front of the man with a kind hand against his shoulder. The master-at-arms smiles at her, thanking her before taking a bite of what Laira believes to be peach cake. The cooks had received fresh peaches just a few days ago and had been using them frequently in sweets and salads.

“Did you and your family enjoy your day, Your Grace?” Mira calls, standing from the table. She carries a tray in her hands as she does, moving so she can deposit them in the sinks across the kitchen.

“We did,” Laira assures. “Perhaps your little ones could accompany us the next time that we venture to the shore.” She smiles when she notices the way Mira’s daughters brighten. She doubts they have ever been extended such an invitation before. “Sansa and Helen would no doubt love to have playmates closer to their own ages.”

“That is very kind of you, Your Grace,” Mira answers, smiling over at her daughters. “I am sure they would enjoy such a thing very much.”

Laira looks to Ser Aeron then. “Be sure that the stableboys eat as well, Ser Aeron,” she tells him. “They were kind enough to help my husband with an endeavor with the wolves,” she says. “Be sure that they both take food home for their families. And you as well.”

“I’ll fetch them myself, Your Grace,” Ser Aeron answers, spearing another piece of peach cake with his fork. “Thank you.”

Laira leaves them only a few moments later, pausing to be certain that Celesse and the cooks have enough to eat and enough to carry food back to their families. When Laira enters the hallway that houses her and Hal’s apartments, she pauses at its end. The doors to her rooms are ajar and there is a shadow moving within the space. Her husband and her family are still down within the gardens, tending the wolves, she knows. And her attendants are within the Great Hall, milling about in the kitchens.

She hesitates only a moment before she is moving, feet quiet against the dark stone. Glancing around the doors into her apartments, Laira finds the space empty. Across the living space, the doors to her solar are thrown open. There is a fire burning within the hearth. Another shadow flickers along the wall within the small space.

Dark Sister is still propped at the end of her bed, resting against the onyx colored chaise. She moves without a second thought, hand wrapping about the grip. The Valyrian blade is pulled from its scabbard as she crosses the room, the steel gleaming in the faint firelight. There is a feminine figure standing before the hearth when she steps into the solar. Clad in all crimson, dark hair spills down the other’s back. The design upon the woman’s crimson robes identifies her before anything else can.

A Red Priestess. A servant of the Red God, R’hllor.

The priestess’ head tilts slightly. Laira can see the quirk of the woman’s mouth from where she stands. “Daughter of Death,” the woman speaks, the words flowing off her tongue in the language of the Old Empire. “We have much to discuss.”

{ @truetargaryen & @fullrangeofemotions & @thequeenmaker & @xcoatlicuex & @hisvipereyes & @viperparamour & @nolongerhispawn & @shewhoisironborn & @adornishviper & @anunfailingkindness & @ialwayswasthebest & @iveneverbeenagoodgirl & @aladyofwinterfell & @therosesofhighgarden & @arisiarrxb & @alionessroars & @zaldrizo & @fairytalesandstars & @queeniolande & @yrracynrxl & @scaleddoe & @scraniknatu }

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Life in the Shadows (Michael Myers x Reader)

I know I never really got back into writing because I never really got back the motivation after certain things happened. But hey, I started this fic who knows when ago and actually got the motivation to finish it. Hopefully it’s good, I kinda just skimmed thorugh it because I have a hard time reading my own writings and like I said, a good portion of this was written a good while ago and the rest is what I wrote recently. Anyways, have some Michael Myers

Plot: Michael Myers has his eye set on a person he met during his time at Smith’s Grove. Takes place after the second Halloween movie, with a fewe things changed to fit the narrative.

Word Count: 4,866

Warnings: Not much really, mentions of n*dity but nothing explicit. The usual stalking from Michael, mentions of killing obviously. Loomis being Loomis.

The face of Halloween was now nothing more than a white veneer, a haunting sight to any that lay eyes upon it.

Fifteen years ago, not very many felt the terror they started to feel just a week ago. Fifteen years ago, it was nothing but a young boy and his deceased sister. Fifteen years ago, nobody would have expected such a Halloween.

“Thirteen murders in two days. On Halloween night, twenty-one year old Michael Myers escaped from Smiths Grove Sanitarium before stealing from a local hardware store in quiet Haddonfield.”

Michael Myers, that was the name that escaped so many fifteen years ago but ceased soon after when nobody no longer cared.

“At just six years old Michael Myers murdered his elder sister Judith Myers in cold blood, his lust for blood growing the following fifteen years. This past Halloween, only a single of the escapee’s victims survived the attack. Seventeen year old Laurie Strode remains in Haddonfield Memorial Hospital, nearly recovered from the physical and emotional trauma the so-called ‘Boogeyman’ inflicted on her.”

And even this time, their fear grew into a void once a secret was revealed to the public. Nobody feared the Boogeyman; what was there to worry about when they were not who he was after?

“After having survived the home invasion, Strode had to endure yet another attack from the masked fiend who followed her to the hospital the same night. Whilst there, Myers murdered nine people in the hospital, adding on to the previous four. In the end, Strode survived the massacre when Myers’ psychologist arrived to shoot him down and burn him in the hospital’s oxygen room.”

Word spread around. Word that there was another member in the Myers’ family, that only she was the one the murderer was after.

“But in the end, no charred body was recovered.”

Little had the people known, the Shape had his eye on more than one.

“Only a week has gone by but Haddonfield still asks, what could have happened to this malicious hunter?”

Void-like eyes stared through the open window, standing in place with hands laying at each side. Heavy breathing was heard behind the mask, only coming near would allow people to hear such breaths.

Eyes cared not for those that sat on the other side of the glass, sitting on their  couch ever so…vulnerable.

Oblivious.

Helpless.

Naive.

The shape stood in place, eyes staring into the television set in front of them. On it, the picture of a young blonde, the picture taken after the second attack.

Head soon turned before its body followed, calmly striding down a self-made path through the backyard of these unknowing residents who never realized there was someone watching their  every move for more than a few minutes.

The streets of Orange Grove Avenue was nothing but an empty street, nobody in sight unless it was very necessary to go out. Even without the lack of fear, most preferred that their  children would remain at home. Adults thought the same for themselves, thoughts plagued with the idea of accidentally coming across a bloody sight that would end with them as a murdered witness.

Through hedges and trees strolled the figure, never noticed by those who peeked through their closed curtains. The voids of his mask stared straight ahead, eventually looking to the side when their  head finally turned.

From behind a tree, the shape stalked the source from whence a sound was heard.

A door opened to reveal another shape, one whose hand tightly clutched onto a worn out satchel before she gently set it on the ground. Hand now reached into the pocket of her  jacket, making sure that nothing was forgotten back inside her  home, nodding in satisfaction once she pulled out her keys.

The shape stood in the distance, keeping a calm yet very attentive stance as he concealed himself with a tree across the street from the home he watched. He saw the person fumble a bit with her  pocket, shaking soon ceasing before she lifted her head ever so slowly.

Eyes glanced to the left and then the right, head now being the one to move while an uneasy feeling overcame her. A deep feeling of trepidation soon hit when her  eyes landed on the tree standing in the distance, half of a man’s body revealed with a face so pale it looked unreal in her  perspective.

Once again, a shock came when she felt a vibration and heard a jingle, making her look down at her  jacket where her  phone rang.

She pulled out the phone before answering it, placing it against her  ear while looking back up at the tree. Nothing nor anybody stood there, leaving that uneasy feeling while she now shut and locked the door to then make her  way to her  car.

Before actually starting it, she turned to look behind, seeing nothing again. So, with her  phone on its holder, she started the car and drove away, never realizing that darkened eyes were watching from a distance.

_____________

In an isolated property where only light hit stood the shape, behind a fence that no longer proved to serve its purpose. Through it he watched an empty field with nothing but tables for those cursed inside to sit whenever breaks were given. Beyond this empty space was the large building that could have never contained him.

He walked alongside the fence, turning to the right when he reached the building’s other perimeter. From his location, he saw her again.

This time, the person wore a badge on her  jacket as she got out of her car. With her satchel once again in her  hand, she locked the car before making her way through the parking lot until reaching the sidewalk that would lead her to the front entrance of the building. Before continuing, however, she paused her   walking to look at the sign reading a damaged “Smith’s Grove   Sanitarium”. With a shake of her  head, she followed the path before finally walking into the building.

Behind some bushes, the shape watched it all until the person was no more behind darkened glass. He stood there, breaths now soft as she allowed the sound of his heart pumping hard with adrenaline. It was always said that the shape felt nothing, he was but a vessel containing evil alone. But somehow, there was something in him that not even the “best” of psychologists could discover in such a being.

“Looking into those eyes alone is dangerous enough.”

“Why is that?”

“They are the devil’s eyes. There is nothing but evil behind them.”

Such words were enough to make one turn, though the sound of voices coming from outside were also sufficient.

In a room deep inside the corridors of Smith’s Grove was a bed. To the surprise of many it proved to be one of the tidiest beds ever; sheets never undone save for a few wrinkles every now and then.

On the bed sat the patient not many dared near, the story of what he did years back sending chills down the staff’s spines.

“D…devil’s eyes? Dr. Loomis, you can’t be serious. I’ve heard all kinds of things from you, but this is new.”

From the bed, the patient listened ever so attentively, yet he did so without a care in the world. Eyes stared into the nothingness of the white wall before him while his body remained still and hunched over.

The jingling of keys sounded outside of the room, the sound loud enough to echo through the ever so silent hallways of the sanitarium. Soon enough the creaking of the room’s door followed; in the doorway stood two figures who silently peered inside.

One remained on the spot while the other immediately strode in without a care, ignoring the slight worry he had inside. A worry not about him necessarily, but more like the one he had for others such as the person who had accompanied him, and the ones who ran the sanitarium without any concern.

“Michael.” The man now stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the patient sitting on the bed.

The patient never bothered to look any other way, eyes fixated on the wall . Almost as if he wasn’t seeing it…instead, looking past it.

Even then, the man knew that he was aware of his guests.

“Maybe you should leave.”

“Excuse me?” the doctor turned to the doorway, still keeping his distance from the patient who, in the slightest and unnoticable bit, turned his head to the side.

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen that Michael doesn’t exactly…” the other person took a step inside, glancing over at the patient. “React when you’re around.”

“I am the only one in this sanitarium who can approach Michael without being injured.” Loomis now stepped towards her, once again not realizing that the patient’s head had turned even more. “I am his doctor and you are nothing but a temporary transfer.”

“I know-”

“You are in no place to be telling me what to do with Myers.” Loomis sternly spoke, then reaching a hand out to the other individual who turned away with a sigh. “Where are the others?”

“They’re on their   way.” she spoke as she handed a clipboard over to the psychiatrist that immediately looked over the papers in hand.

“Once they’re here, you may excuse yourself.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” Loomis’  frown deepened.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Is that so?”

“My purpose is to examine Michael because your incompetent ass can’t do so.”

Now this had noticeably riled up Loomis who had unconsciously turned his back on his patient, the latter still ever so slightly paying attention to the conversation.

“I know you don’t like working with me Loomis, I learned that along the way. I point out the reality while you continue to insist on foolish tales only a man like you can spin.” the person spat at the elderly man who could not believe the way he was being spoken to. “My tasks threaten your job, even if I only do the medical work. A man like you deserves and could land a spot in an institution such as this one with your lunatic rambles. So either step down and let me do my job, or I’ll have a chat of my own with the administration.”

Loomis could only eye this…unfortunate individual. Examining the as if he were examining a patient of his, looking for any flaws he could spur into a tale of demons and evil. To him, this temporary associate was no more than a burden in between him and Michael. Him and the Devil himself, waiting to unleash hell.

He began making his way out of the room, but not before he glanced back at Michael who had clearly been staring at the white of his room’s walls this entire time. Not a single care or thought in the world.

“I’ll have you packing your things before you even know it.” he promised while slamming the clipboard onto the nurse’s chest, lips near her  ear as she stepped away from him, realizing that the other staff had come by. For the first time since Michael had been incarcerated, Loomis didn’t bother to remain in the room.

“Alright Mikey,” one of the two guards that arrived spoke out. “You know how this goes.”

The apparent leader of the pair had handcuffs ready, these being placed on Michael’s wrists as he made it seem like he still stared at the wall.

Michael ignored every word and action that came from the guards, eyes instead focused on the staff member who was still in the room. Brown locks concealed his dark gaze, eyes following her  fingers that reached into the pocket of her  uniform trousers. From it, a pen was pulled out.

Pen and paper now connected as the nurse wrote notes, or perhaps random scribbles due to her  not being much to report at the moment.

It was a rather funny pen. A fountain pen is what it was. Somewhat girthy, made out of cheap plastic. Pink.

One of the only pieces of color Michael ever really saw inside the sanatorium, the only other times being when Loomis conducted certain examinations or when Michael was fed.

Black ink spilled from the pen and onto the paper, nothing more than a tool to further his years in this building. Black ink that came from this funny little pen, providing the only tint of life in the darkness of these white walls that caged Michael.

Black ink…spilling…merging with the warm crimson from inside the skin. It was almost lovely, the thought of a brightly colored tool, impaling the soft skin of this particular caretaker.

“You ready, doc?”

“It’s nurse.” Michael’s staring was interrupted as he felt hands grab onto his arms, hoisting him up from the bed before he nearly came face to face with his nurse. “And yes, we can take him now. Loomis should be waiting for us, if he hasn’t decided to throw a fit in his office.”

“You and the old guy don’t care much for each other, huh?” a guard spoke up as she followed behind the nurse, Michael sandwiched between the men who led him through the halls.

“I don’t care for any so-called psychologist who runs his mouth like a madman. I don’t think he’s qualified to be a psychologist.”

“Uh huh.” one of the guards replied, the words not having gone through his head properly, as he was another one of the many members who worked without giving a damn about the environment they surrounded themselves in.

“Loomis is a bitch, to put it simple.” the nurse rolled her  eyes, hearing the jingling of keys that came from the guards as well as the cuffs that contained Michael. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing, can’t properly care for a patient. I don’t know how he even takes care of himself.”

No more words came from any of the staff as her and Michael’s footsteps echoed through the empty hallways she walked through. Were it not for the continuous jingling, one could have even come to hear Michael’s breaths.

“What now?”

“Michael takes a seat, and we wait for Loomis. You two can leave once he’s here, unless he instructs otherwise.” the nurse scanned the empty room where only a metallic table and two chairs sat in the middle. Behind one of the chairs was a large mirror, one that obviously served for watching whatever interaction occurred inside. It only showed how not-so credible Loomis’ objections were.

“Actually,” a new voice sounded, making everyone but Michael look to the open door, for another nurse had come by.  “I will be staying in your place for a moment. You’re needed elsewhere.”

“Where, exactly? I can’t leave Michael alone with a nurse he’s not used to seeing.”

“I doubt he’ll care much about the change.” this other nurse stated as she made her way into the room, reaching out to grab the clipboard. “The higher ups just want to have a quick conversation.”

“It’s because of Loomis, isn’t it? That bastard.”

“Just deal with it quickly, I have other patients that actually need attending.”

“Alright, just…”

Michael had been seated in the chair opposite from the mirror on the wall, cuffed hands forcibly placed on the table in front of him as his head remained lowered.

“Just treat him right. Please.”

“Sure thing.” the nurse uttered, watching the other walk out of the room.

“What, is someone catching feelings for little ol’ Mikey?” one of the guards snickered once she was out of sight, the two guards chuckling among themselves while the remaining nurse rolled her eyes.

“Hope not, could send her back to the hospital she came from. Even then, dunno what anyone would see in a crazy like Myers.”

And all the while the staff paid no mind to the patient, Michael had actually turned his head.

Eyes looked to the empty and open doorway, almost as if waiting for his nurse to return.

With eyes fixated on the building, the shape now watched as the main doors opened once more. From the doors came the nurse, not having spent much time inside. If she had spent this little in the building on a night she were meant to work, something had changed.

He watched from a distance, taking notice of the lack of Smith’s Grove badge. He didn’t have to eavesdrop on any conversation to know what had gone on.

There was no intention of hiding himself this time, but he also didn’t care if his presence was made known. All that mattered was her, watching every move as she trudged down the sidewalk with her  satchel tightly grasped into.

Despite the distance between the two, it was almost as if this nurse- former nurse could feel him breathing right behind her  neck.

She ceased her walking, nails now digging into her  bag as she scanned her  surroundings, feeling eyes on her…

Beyond the yards of Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, beyond the fence surrounding the perimeter, her  eyes met with the darkest eyes, ever so slightly shaded from the light. Or at least, that was what her  eyes saw, somehow being able to make out…

“The Devil’s Eyes.” he read her  lips murmur, spoken in complete disbelief.

He remained in place, body as stiff as ever as he only…examined, just like she did to him many times.

Was it a figment of her  imagination? Was Michael Myers, the now so-called Boogeyman, really just…watching?

Whatever the answer, he saw her hurriedly threading to the parking lot, immediately finding her  vehicle which she hopped into after struggling to find her  keys. Once inside, she wasted no more time, her  next destination being home.

_____________

She wasn’t up to very much. She was merely…sitting.

Eating.

Thinking.

Thinking more than him no doubt, especially as he stood by the window that led into the brightly lit kitchen. Eyes stared into the glass, watching the individual who did nothing but sit with a slice of bread in hand. In the other, a rather large kitchen knife, the first one that she had pulled out from her  knife block.

She was clearly unbothered by things, but there was still a sort of affliction present on her  features.

He watched her bite into the piece of bread she had cut for herself, ever so slowly chewing the bit. her  lips, moisturized with a lick of her   lips that rid of all the tiny crumbs that even he was able to perceive from the distance he stood at.

He never blinked, merely watched with an intensity that brought a chill down her  spine.

Her eyes widened at the strange feeling of being watched, whipping her   head around as she searched for a possible answer. But just like every other time, there was nothing or nobody that could have been keeping an eye on her.

“I’m going insane…” she mumbled to herself, setting down her  piece of bread before pushing her  seat out to stand and approach the kitchen sink. In her  hand was the knife, this being washed up immediately, ever so carefully.

It gleamed under the kitchen’s light, almost making a sound as if it were a sword drawn from its scabbard.

“This was all it took.”

A kitchen knife was all it took to take the many lives of many innocents. A kitchen knife that glinted under almost anything. A kitchen knife that reflected dark pools of that made one stare into oblivion.

Once again, she spun around, this time in a panic. Through the knife she had seen the white veneer, staring right back at her with such vehemence. But alas, just like every time, nothing stood at the window, it was clearly only a figment of her  imagination. Nothing but an apparition.

“I’ve heard wondrous things about you.”

“Oh, I doubt that. I’m just like any other nurse. I’m sure anyone else could do this job.”

“You’re too humble. I’ve heard about your handling of Billy and, it’s impressed me and other nurses.”

Smith’s Grove Sanitarium, you weren’t sure why an institution such as this one specifically requested someone with your expertise. Someone apparently “perfectly skilled” as a nurse, whatever that meant. It was one of the staff members who had desired a nurse such as yourself, a nurse who would be personally assigned to Michael Audrey Myers.

“And…what is so, special, about this patient?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m not entirely sure.” your new but temporary supervisor, Dr. Wynn,  admitted as he walked you down the corridors of the sanitarium. “Myers’ primary psychologist, Dr. Samuel Loomis, is particularly…wary.”

“Of his own patient? I mean, I can understand but, aren’t patients like Michael restrained?”

“That’s not it. Samuel apparently sees something in Michael. Believes there is no redeeming, that Michael is only…waiting.”

“For…?”

“I don’t know, Samuel’s lectures tend to disturb me and some of the other staff at times. We don’t always pay much attention to his rants.” the man gave a shrug, turning on his heel as he and you made it to a door that was marked with a sign reading “M. MYERS”. “We worry that because of this apprehension, that he doesn’t properly care for Michael. We can’t exactly have a patient pass due to lack of care.”

“Of course.”

“You see,” he held his breath for a moment, soon enough releasing it. “Samuel doesn’t view Michael as a human being. Has made many suggestions already, but we don’t see Michael posing as the threat he believes he is.”

You nodded at these words, having seen similar stories as you grew up.

“Anyways, I’d formally like to introduce you to Michael.”

The white door disappeared from your view after being unlocked and opened, revealing a young male who was merely…sitting.

“Michael, I’d like you to meet your new, personal nurse…”

Words became nothing as your eyes landed on this man who sat at the edge of his bed, back curved as he leaned and looked forwards. Thick, chocolate curls hid the eyes that peered at the empty wall, almost as if they examined every inch of paint.

Hands were placed on his knees as the tips of his fingers dug into the cloth of his ivory pants. He seemed so tense, yet so calm somehow. There was no change in his staring as he never lifted his gaze, only listening to the words that spewed from the staff’s lips.

“Every day from now on, you will be seeing her. She is here for your every need.”

You snapped back to your senses after feeling a hand clasp onto your shoulder, making you turn to Dr. Wynn who gave you a comforting smile.

“Right,” you offered a minimal smile before turning back to Michael who had still not moved. Not a single bit. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael. I look forward to helping you as best as I can.”

“I’ll make sure to have you introduced to Samuel after I chat with you in my office.”

“Sounds good.” you slightly nodded, giving Michael one last look before finally stepping out of the room. “See you soon.”

Dr. Wynn followed suit, closing the door the moment he had stepped out as well. Had he taken even the quickest peek into the miniature window that was on the door, he would have noticed the glance Michael had given you.

Nobody ever noticed these small things. Not even you.

Coming back to reality, she shook her head just a bit. Perhaps it was the sleep that was getting to her.

Putting out of mind the slight scare she had just experienced, she turned her attention back to the empty kitchen sink. There were no more dishes, all wet and clean on the drying rack. All but…the kitchen knife.

Had she misplaced it? No, how could she have so easily lost a knife while lost in her own thoughts?

“Weird,” she spoke to herself, now realizing that the large knife lay at the end of the counter. “I don’t remember leaving it there.”

All the doors and windows were locked, she made sure to check every single thing more than once if there really was a danger lurking around. Perhaps she did leave the knife at the end of the counter, perhaps it was during her slight moment of remembering.

He saw her shake her head, putting aside her thoughts and worries after taking the knife and placing it inside its appropriate spot. Soon after, she removed her top and made her way out of the kitchen, the shape following suit as best as he could-

-inside the home.

After the top was removed, her jeans were next once she was in the bathroom of her house.

A heat formed in the room as she turned the knob of her shower, warm water raining over the empty floor of the bathtub. The sound of the water hitting the floor sufficed in hiding his footsteps, his deep breathing.

He easily went unnoticed, dark eyes fixated on the woman as she removed the rest of her clothing.  Eyes admired every curve of her now bare body, taking notes of every bit and piece of skin. So soft. So warm. So…exposed and unguarded.

There was nothing more than glass doors that divided him and her; a pair of doors being the only thing standing between him and his prey. His head became tilted at the sound of her voice, a song from another time escaping her lips as she sang to herself, never realizing that she had an uninvited audience.

Her body in full view through the glass, only slightly distorted by the glass’ design.

His fists clenched as he was filled with an impulse, an unwavering ardor as he studied her every move.

She ran her hands over her body, almost as if caressing herself, massaging her own knots out. Hands dragged themselves over her thighs, fingers digging into them as she squeezed to provide comfort and relief. The warm, hot water almost provided a feeling of…safety.

A safety that could be interrupted at any moment by anything.

Her fingers were entangled in her locks of hair, soap threatening to fall into her eyes that she immediately shut.

It was almost as if he sensed this, stepping towards the glass doors as his heavy breaths created a foggy effect, breathing almost becoming desperate at the proximity between the two figures. His own clothed skin, so near her nude form; almost touching. Sultry flesh that he had all to himself. Flesh who’s scent he inhaled deeply, registering the smell into his system.

It was just the two of them, and that was how he desired it.

The shower knob was soon turned as the water turned off, the only sound in the entire house being the droplets from her hair and chin dripping onto the wet flooring. Once she wiped the remaining water from her face, she properly opened her eyes to look into the emptiness of her bathroom. The scathing water had fogged up all the glass inside the bathroom, hiding the fading imprint of large hands that had been placed on the glass doors.

_____________

Hours had gone by as he remained inside the house, haunting the halls like a phantom with no trace. It was almost ridiculous, foolish even, that the man was not once noticed.

Not even as he stood at her bedside.

A slumber befell the woman not too long after she lay in bed. Once changed into a set of comfortable nightwear, she promptly brought her exhausted form into bed. In front of her was a television, still powered on after hours of watching the leftover Halloween specials.

Her body was curled up against her pillow, eyes softly shut as her chest moved with every breath.

The vulnerability present was ever so tantalizing.

Large, strong hands were slowly lifted, inching closer and closer to the woman’s unsuspecting figure. His hands moved on impulse, wanting to latch onto her neck. Wanting to squeeze her throat awake. Wanting to have her eyes shoot open as she reacted too late. Wanting to have the life drained out of her body with every squeeze.

How quick and easy it would have been to overpower her. Suffocate her. Slice her. Thrust her own gleaming blade into her chest to spill the crimson liquid he had come to see so often.

“Michael…”

His breathing deepened even more at the sound of his name, lips breathing out the name of the Devil himself without realizing the consequence. Out of instinct, almost, one of his large hands brought itself onto her exposed leg, stroking the skin with an unexpected gentleness.

Immediately removing his hand, his head gave one final tilt before he took his time spinning around. His eyes landed on the television set that only presented its viewers with nothing but static.

Something had told him it was best to switch it off before officially making his way out.

[silenceinternalmonologue]

A Review of Loki (2021)

[The following is an exact transcription of Twitter user @/diolesbian ‘s thread linked here . They gave me permission to cross-post their thread on my Tumblr. Keep in mind that this review is fairly long and quite critical of the series. I agree with this review wholeheartedly, and would be welcome to discuss it with anyone else.] 

Loki is a character who has died many times, but his own series may be his most brutal character assassination yet.

1.  Loki’s role in the series. Instead of tackling Loki's most villainous state of mind in Avengers 1, the series literally speedran through his development in the subsequent films, after which they almost entirely halted his character progression.

Because this series was set right after Avengers 1 it had the responsibility of developing Loki further in place of The Dark World and Ragnarok. In Episode 1, this development was kicked off by having Loki watch a reel of some of his defining moments in the MCU, allowing him to see his future all the way up to his death in Infinity War. Sadly, this scene ended up being the most development he received in the entire series. And arguably, this isn’t even true development but more like a speedrun of his character up until that point, serving as a simple tactic to explain why he wouldn’t be acting all dictatorial and murderous during his own series. As soon as he had been made “good” (read: docile) enough to follow along with the plot, his agency was completely thrown out. From that point on, the series wasn’t about Loki making things happen but about things happening to Loki.

Loki was supposed to be the main character, but he wasn't the protagonist in this story. In fact, he was more of a side character than we’ve ever seen him be in the MCU before, perhaps excepting IW and Endgame.

A protagonist is by definition someone whose important decisions affect the plot, whose development is followed most closely by the audience, and who is opposed by an antagonist. Loki exhibited none of these traits in this series. Especially the latter half of the story, he was reduced to simply reacting to the revelations around him, such as the reveal that the TVA members were all variants and that Kang was the true mastermind behind everything. He never truly involved himself or acted based on any of these plot points, and hardly played a key role in what was supposed to be his own story. Even in the films, where Loki is a side character, he makes choices which impact the plot to a larger extent. He almost seems more like a background character in the role of protagonist than in the parts he plays in the films.

2. The antagonist. The TVA could have worked as the perfect setting for Loki to have a new arc. It’s a thematic antithesis to who we know Loki to be. But when this Loki turns out to not be who the audience thought he was the TVA’s thematic significance falls apart as well.

In Episode 1, the TVA’s Agent Mobius enlists the help of Loki the Variant to pin down a greater foe who we are told is another, more malicious version of Loki. Order and chaos meeting in the middle, teaming up to take down an enemy, who even happens to be the protagonists’ literal evil self: that works, it sounds promising. But this dynamic is soon undermined when Loki leaves with Sylvie. Still, the benefit of the doubt is easy to grant here: a story about tricksters is bound to contain twists. But by Episode 3 the series is halfway done and the TVA has been appointed as the main antagonist again: we’ve now established villains three different times. And then the Cloud Monster At The End Of Time is introduced, and finally Kang. In other words, the Loki series has no consistent antagonist, no one to pit its main character against. And this is where we once again miss out on an enormous aspect of Loki’s potential characterization.

Protagonists are always defined by an antagonist, whether a purple Titan, a flat tire, or themself. Loki is not given anything to define his morals, motivations, or development in opposition to and this is a huge oversight. Especially given the fact that Loki has taken on the villain’s role in the past: how is the audience supposed to know that the “bad guy” is now a “good guy” if there’s no “even worse guy” to stand up against?

3. The plot. A plot should show off its MC’s strengths and match their personality. The Loki plot hardly relied on his presence at all, he didn't play a key role. The story had so little to do with Loki that it seemed as though he has barely any impact on “his” narrative.

One of the most central conflicts in the Loki series doesn’t involve him at all: it’s between Sylvie and the TVA. This plotline was a good concept overall, but its main problem is that it’s practically the only conflict in the series. Loki himself, as mentioned before, isn’t set in opposition to anything or anyone. And thanks to his relationships with Sylvie and Mobius being weakened by conflicting storytelling devices, he appears to be in a bubble by himself away from the rest of the cast for much of the story. First he follows Mobius around, then Sylvie, then he wanders aimlessly in the void before following Sylvie once again and learning that Kang is a Really Bad Guy who he should be opposed to even though by this point he has interacted so little with the story unfolding around him that the audience doesn’t even understand why he should be choosing to play the hero.

The plot and the characters both suffer by being so incredibly unrelated to each other. A series, especially an MCU one, should tell an overarching narrative through the perspective of its main character.

In the beginning of the series, when Loki was still getting his bearings in the TVA, this lack of decision-making was more understandable, especially since some of his skills were still being shown-- he discovered Sylvie was hiding in nexus events, and he made the choice to leave Mobius and follow her. But by the latter half of the series he still hasn’t had much impact on the story or taken any actions of his own, and simply allows plot points to happen to him. Just because the Loki series had to introduce the TVA and Kang didn’t mean it had to forgo telling a story about its protagonist. If Loki’s story had been intrinsically tied to the overarching plot points, if his choices had been some of the primary factors determining how events ended up taking place, the series would have succeeded in every aspect. But instead Loki is pushed aside by the plot of his own series, a plot which subsequently ends up coming across as largely hollow and pointless due to its lack of character drive.

4. Loki’s arc. One of the main reasons MCU Loki is loved is for his excellent character development across his films. TVA Loki was extremely lacking in that aspect and chances to take his character in interesting new self-aware directions were thrown away without much thought.

Throughout the MCU, Loki is on a journey with many highs and lows. He goes from a bitter and disheartened prince standing in the shadow of his brother, to a self-loathing Jotun bent on destroying his own people in a desperate attempt to win his father’s love, to a half-mad partially mind-controlled dictator with delusions of grandeur fueled by his own insecurity, to a prisoner wondering what there is left for him to lose, to a savior of Asgard’s people finally coming to accept his place in what is left of his family, to a tragic sacrificial victim who knew he had to die so the true hero might live on. That’s a hell of a journey, incidentally shown in less than TWO HOURS of screen time, and the prospect of TVA Loki embarking on an equally stimulating one, this time told over the course of over four hours and shown from his own perspective the entire way through, was exciting. But as it turned out, this relatively simple expectation went completely unmet.

For a story trying to say so much about individuality and self-acceptance, the Loki series seemed to pass by every obvious opportunity to tackle those questions.

Sylvie’s introduction seemed like a good idea at first: Loki would be able to literally bond with himself and learn to accept who he is that way, and forays could be made to explore what Loki’s personality could have been like if he grew up under different circumstances! But aside from a scene or two in Episode 3, this was not how things ended up going. Loki didn’t come to any grand or important conclusions about his identity, he didn’t choose to act differently, all that happened was a vaguely-worded confession of pseudo-romantic feelings which was cut off in the middle, made no sense, and weakened the narrative in a whole host of other ways explained elsewhere. Loki’s encounter with other versions of themself in the Void was similarly meaningless: Loki didn’t end up expressing or demonstrating a single thing he learned from meeting all of those alternate selves, despite the fact that there was potential for massive self-discovery there.

Less than 2 hours of MCU screen time portrayed Loki more coherently than this entire series. Loki is loved because of how much he changes, and it felt like he didn’t in this series. He started off lost and stayed that way throughout the entire plot.

By the end of the series, it was impossible to identify who Loki had become. He said he didn’t want a throne, but it was not obvious why not. He looked sad to be betrayed by Sylvie, but never expressed what that meant to him. He seemed afraid once Kang was unleashed, but why? Why did he care about the Sacred Timeline? What were his motivations? Throughout the series the answers to these questions became less and less obvious, culminating in the final episode which ended without a single moment of reflection or explanation as to who Loki had become. He wasn’t a villain, but only because he wasn’t murdering people. He was in some capacity a hero, for… being against Kang, probably, but once again with no explanation as to why Loki had decided to feel that way. He never seemed self-assured in his heroism, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself. Again, making one’s own choices that shape the narrative are what differentiates a protagonist from a side character, but Loki did not do that in this series.

5. Loki and Sylvie’s relationship. Loki and Sylvie had the potential to be a powerful duo representing the process of self-acceptance but instead they were reduced to a strange pseudo-romance.

Despite Loki’s many developments in the films, he never truly liked himself. He has been known to act extremely confident and self-righteous at times, but this is merely the opposite side of the coin containing his self-loathing and insecurity. Having him literally meet and subsequently befriend himself in Episode 3 was a move towards developing this aspect of him and potentially teaching him to finally accept himself as he truly is, but this buildup was all shattered in Episode 4 when the relationship is portrayed to have romantic undertones. Instead of a powerful struggle to accept oneself, the relationship between Loki and Sylvie becomes a twisted thing which is memeable at best (selfcest LOL amirite?) and outright damaging to both characters and the very concept of loving oneself at worst.

Ultimately, Loki and Sylvie's relationship didn’t add anything to either character’s development and actively detracted from what could have been a touching story.

Romantic love is extremely different from self love; romantic love has connotations including dating conventions and sexuality which are impossible to ignore and in this case serve as a distraction. And on top of ruining a potentially powerful storyline, this strange relationship makes both Loki and Sylvie seem out of character. Loki is once again one thousand years old and he has never even had a true friend, so why would he possibly fall for someone after knowing them for only two days? Meanwhile in Sylvie’s case, Loki’s “feelings” for her cause the audience to pay more attention to her romantic life and gestures rather than her actual character and motivations.

6. Loki’s Sexuality and Gender Fluidity. Loki’s sexuality and gender has been shown in several comic runs, and the series was advertised as featuring this representation as well. But due to several fundamental errors and problematic storytelling this also fell flat.

Sylvie’s introduction filled many fans with hope regarding the portrayal of Loki’s identity. In the MCU neither of their LGBT identities had ever been touched upon, while the series introduced a female variant of Loki and explicitly stated their sexuality. But this portrayal soon unraveled, most notably in Episode 5, in which many other Loki variants were shown but not a single one besides Sylvie was non-male. On top of that, when TVA Loki mentioned Sylvie and referred to her as “a woman Variant of us”, the other Lokis agreed that that sounded “terrifying”. Why should a genderfluid being be afraid of a version of themselves presenting as a different gender? It read as both fluidphobic not to mention strangely sexist.

The pseudo-romance between Loki and Sylvie only aggravated the situation. Not only did the nature of the “relationship” seem to follow heteronormative storytelling tropes (falling in love after a couple days of knowing each other, one party being reduced to a love interest, valuing romantic love above any other type, etc) but it also seemed distressing and offensive to many genderfluid people. A romance between a male and a female Loki, one of which doesn’t even call herself by that name, seems to be implying that an individual becomes someone else when merely presenting as a different gender, which of course isn’t at all the case. The writing wasn’t necessarily malicious here, but it was certainly ignorant and potentially even harmful. The opportunity was there to translate Loki’s powerful comic representation into the framework of the MCU, but this attempt did not succeed.

7. Loki’s characterization. Loki is a chameleon, but there are certain traits fundamental to his character. These traits were either ignored or actively mocked in the series. The audience already knew “what makes a Loki a Loki", but the series threw that knowledge away.

Episode 1’s premise of stripping Loki of everything he is used to was an intriguing setup to ensure the discovery of the core of who Loki truly is. The only problem was that this truth didn’t end up being found at all. Mobius made fun of Loki’s most defining traits, such as his habits of lying to manipulate people and acting out of a place of insecurity, which seemed to be a signal for the narrative to forbid Loki from exhibiting any of those traits from that point on in any way. This reduction in Loki’s character was reflected in everything, from his lack of humor (in the films he’s even funny while he’s taking over the world!), the underpowered way in which he fought against Sylvie (he’ll use magic to dry his clothes, but fight with a damn vacuum cleaner?) to the way that he wore the same boring outfit in every single episode-- it may sound shallow, but clothes are important when presenting a character. Every one of Loki’s looks in the films said something about him and his state of mind, and sadly that bland TVA outfit seemed to convey that Loki really was nothing more than a subservient pawn in what was supposed to be his own story. Ironically, the writing stripped Loki of everything that made him Loki, and left us with nothing but a Jotun-shaped void to be swayed by the whims and wills of the characters and plot devices surrounding him.

8. Loki’s past and abilities. This series could have elaborated on aspects of his character which had been teased at in the films and theorized about by fans, but ended up being a disappointment in this aspect as well.

Aside from Loki’s characterization and development, something else the series ignores is much of his canon story in the films. Since Thor 1, a truth that always overshadowed Loki was his Jotun heritage. He struggled with it up until the time of his death, clearly visible in his relationship with his foster family. It’s understandable that Loki was supposed to be independent from Thor in his series, but that’s no excuse for completely ignoring this central part of who Loki is. It doesn’t matter how much he goes through or how much his circumstances change, this feeling of unbelonging sits deep in Loki’s core and should have been both explored and explicitly discussed in the series. A series all about Loki was the perfect opportunity for him to finally confront and explain his relationship with his heritage, and potentially come to terms with it as well. And this isn’t even to say how cool some more insight on Loki’s Jotun inheritance could have been-- hypotheticals aren’t the point of this review, but it would have been fascinating to see Loki reacting adversely to heat like he has been hinted to in the past or even using his ice powers like he did in Thor 1.

Loki's magic was tragically underused. It felt like he was stripped of all of his magical powers even after his TVA chains had been removed, and this was never explained.

A second huge oversight is his magic. His powers are all over the place in this series. They were always a bit vague in the films, but this series was the opportunity to set that right and explain exactly what Loki was capable of as a sorcerer, especially now that the MCU has embraced magic more than it had ten years ago. But instead, Loki showcased an inexplicable lack of magic use-- again, the vacuum cleaner fight can be presented as evidence. There is a single scene in which Loki says that he learned his magic from Frigga, but no information is given as to how much he learned or why he doesn’t always favor spells. His power levels are incredibly inconsistent (he forgoes using magic when first confronted by the TVA, but is later shown using telekinesis to save himself from being literally crushed to death). And, strangest of all, there is a scene in which he tells Sylvie that he “can’t” enchant living beings. Loki, the millennium year old Trickster sorcerer god, who can hold an Infinity Stone with his bare hands, reanimate Surtur in the Eternal Flame, and trick the average person using illusions with ease, can’t cast a little enchantment? And if so, why not? The series offered precious few explanations concerning Loki’s magical abilities and instead only raised more questions. And in this way, Loki is once again relegated into the background and left with not a single shred of any new characterization or development. 

Loki contains multitudes, but the series reduced him to two dimensions.

This isn’t to mention every other facet of Loki’s story that could have potentially been explored to great success in this series-- his torture and subsequent partial mental influence at the hands of Thanos just before the events of Avengers 1 is one obvious example, as is his youth on Asgard, as are his suicidal tendencies (people don’t tend to survive falling off the Bifrost, and he knew that when he threw himself off of it), plus infinite other facets of him. Of course, it was both necessary and more interesting for this series to be its own story rather than one which lingered on past films-- but that’s not to say that none of these plot points should have come back, at least subtly, to play a role in this story. Plot points exist to be brought back later, not completely ignored. Otherwise a story may as well be written about a completely original character.