#my life is a husk of its former self

[dee-writes-smut]

WINTER (Chapter Two)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY in the aftermath of your kidnapping, you find it harder than normal to cope and continue on with life, causing you to push the people closest to you away. (THIS IS A PART TWO)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, severe depression, and PTSD. If you thought the last one was dark, buckle up.

AUTHORS NOTE wow, three fics in two days?! What happened to me? I have just been super motivated to write creatively recently, which is exciting! So here, enjoy the second part of the Season's series, Winter.

Winter's embrace was a bleak grip, the world laying shrouded in a suffocating blanket of ice and snow, each flake a cruel reminder of nature's indifference. The landscape stretched out before you like a desolate wasteland, barren trees reaching up like skeletal fingers towards a sky heavy with the promise of more bitter cold to come. There was no warmth to be found here, only the biting chill that gnawed at your bones and numbed your very soul.

Gone were the vibrant colors and lively sounds of spring, replaced instead by a deafening silence broken only by the hollow howl of the wind as it whipped through the skeletal remains of once-thriving forests. The air was thick with a palpable sense of despair, each breath a struggle against the icy grip of despair that threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you trudged through the snow, each step felt like a punishment, a relentless march towards an uncertain fate. The landscape seemed to taunt you with its emptiness, a cruel reminder of the futility of your existence in a world so devoid of life and hope. Shadows danced across the frozen ground, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock your very presence.

And yet, amidst the desolation, there was a perverse beauty to be found – in the stark contrast of black against white, in the delicate lacework of frost that adorned the barren branches, in the eerie stillness that hung heavy in the air like a shroud. It was a beauty born of darkness, a twisted reflection of the cruel whims of fate that had brought you to this forsaken place.

In the heart of winter's icy grip, you found yourself consumed by a sense of isolation and despair, a prisoner in a world that had long since abandoned any pretense of kindness or compassion. It was a season of suffering, of unrelenting cruelty, of darkness so deep that even the faintest glimmer of hope seemed but a distant memory. And as the cold crept ever closer, you couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be an end to the endless winter that had consumed your very soul.

(Wintertime, Velaris)

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, my gaze fixed on the empty space where my wings used to be. The pain, both physical and emotional, gnawed at me like a relentless predator, sinking its claws deep into my chest, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. My once majestic wings, the very essence of my being, were gone, severed from my body by those who sought to break my spirit.

With trembling hands, I traced the scars where my wings had been, feeling the phantom sensation of membrane-like skin against my fingertips. The memory of their hard, bone-like ridges, their graceful span; it lingered like a bittersweet melody, haunting yet achingly beautiful. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world around me with their shimmering veil, but I refused to let them fall. Crying felt like admitting defeat, acknowledging just how shattered I truly was. So instead, I pushed the pain down, burying it deep within me, where no one could see.

But the emptiness inside me was a vast abyss, yawning wide and hungry, impossible to ignore. I had always prided myself on my resilience, my strength, but now I felt like a mere husk of my former self. The trauma of my kidnapping weighed upon my mind like a heavy shroud, casting shadows that danced and twisted in the corners of my consciousness.

As the days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, I withdrew further into myself, cocooning my heart in layers of solitude and silence. The world outside seemed distant and hazy, a blurred landscape of faces and voices that I could no longer connect with. I couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, the whispered words of sympathy that fell like stones upon my wounded soul. So, I built walls around my heart, brick by brick, until I was encased in a fortress of my own making, impervious to the outside world.

Even Azriel, my steadfast companion, my unwavering ally, found himself barred from the inner sanctum of my heart. He tried to reach me, to break through the barriers I had erected, but I turned away, unable to bear the thought of exposing my vulnerability to anyone, even him. I didn't want their pity or their well-meaning words. All I wanted was to be left alone with my pain, to drown in it until it consumed me completely.

But even in my darkest moments, a flicker of hope danced on the periphery of my consciousness, a tiny flame that refused to be extinguished. It whispered of resilience and redemption, of healing and renewal, but I pushed it away, hiding from its warmth like a frightened child. For now, I would remain adrift in a sea of darkness, lost and alone, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that promised a way out of the abyss.

The memories played out in my mind with vivid intensity, each scene etched into my consciousness like a brand of torment.

I remembered the moment I was jolted from unconsciousness, the harsh voice of my captor slicing through the haze like a blade. "Wake up, whore," he hissed, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a primal fear within me. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped me, I felt the oppressive weight of a bag over my head, suffocating and disorienting. Panic surged through me as I realized my bound state, my struggles against the restraints futile in the face of impending doom.

The voice, dripping with malice, mocked my defiance. "No need to struggle, sweetheart," he sneered, his words a cruel reminder of my helplessness. As I strained to make sense of my surroundings, fear clawed its way through my throat, leaving behind deep grooves of despair. The familiar scent of damp earth and mildew filled my senses, a chilling reminder of the unknown horrors that awaited me.

A flicker of hope emerged in the form of Azriel, my steadfast protector, but it was quickly extinguished by the looming presence of Lyris, a childhood friend turned tormentor. His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he brandished a dagger, the cold metal glinting ominously in the dim light.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris descended upon me, his voice filled with twisted pleasure. "Time to finally take what's mine," he taunted, the blade poised to inflict unimaginable pain.

The first cut tore through me like a bolt of lightning, a searing agony that ripped through flesh and soul alike. My cries echoed off the walls of the chamber, lost in the darkness that enveloped me.

But the torment did not end there. With each merciless stroke of the blade, Lyris carved away my very essence, leaving behind a shattered shell of my former self. I watched helplessly as my wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, were mutilated and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh.

And as the last remnants of my identity fell away, a hollow emptiness consumed me, leaving behind only the cruel scars of my torment. I was no longer whole, no longer the person I once was. I had been robbed of everything that defined me, my essence stolen by the darkness that lurked within the depths of my captor's soul.

As the soft rap echoed through the hollow corridors, it felt like a distant echo of a life I once knew, one filled with warmth and camaraderie. Reluctantly, I approached the door, each step heavy with the weight of my turmoil, the heavy thud of my heart matching the rhythm of my footfalls.

Feyre stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway lanterns, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the bonds I had once cherished. In her hands, she cradled a delicate tray, a small offering of sustenance amidst the darkness that engulfed me.

"I brought you some food," she offered, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room, a fragile thread of connection in the vast expanse of my solitude. "I thought you might be hungry."

My response was curt, a reflexive defense against the vulnerability her kindness exposed. "I don't need your pity, Feyre," I retorted, the bitterness in my voice a stark contrast to the warmth of her offering. "I can take care of myself."

For a fleeting moment, hurt flickered in her eyes, a silent plea for understanding that cut through the barriers I had erected around my wounded heart. But she quickly masked it with a forced smile, her resilience a testament to the depth of her compassion.

Without another word, she set the tray down on the table beside me, the scent of warm food mingling with the heavy silence that enveloped us. It was a gesture of kindness in a world that had grown cold and indifferent, a fleeting glimpse of the friendship I had once treasured.

As Feyre lingered in the doorway, her gaze lingered on mine with a quiet intensity, a silent invitation to let her in, to share the burden of my pain. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, her voice a gentle reminder that I was not alone, that there were still those who cared enough to reach out a helping hand.

But I shook my head, my walls still firmly in place, my pride a shield against the vulnerability her presence exposed. "No," I replied curtly, my voice a harsh echo of the emptiness that echoed within me.

With a nod of understanding, Feyre turned to leave, the weight of her disappointment a heavy burden on my already burdened soul. And as the door closed behind her, I was left alone once more, the silence of the empty room a stark reminder of the walls I had built to keep the world at bay.

The evening air was thick with the scent of spices and laughter as I made my way through the bustling streets of Velaris, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm hue over the cobblestone pathways. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the weight of my own thoughts, as I navigated the vibrant tapestry of the Night Court.

Amidst the lively chatter and cheerful bustle of the city, familiar voices pierced through the haze of my melancholy. Mor's vibrant laughter echoed through the air, drawing my gaze towards her radiant figure standing across the street. Beside her, Cassian, his presence as imposing as ever, offered a welcoming grin that tugged at the corners of my lips despite my inner turmoil.

"Hey, there she is!" Mor's voice carried on the breeze, her smile bright as she beckoned me over. "Come join us!"

Cassian's invitation followed, his boisterous enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the tavern. "We're heading for a drink. You should come with us."

My heart clenched at the genuine warmth in their gestures, a stark contrast to the icy grip of my own despair. The desire to lose myself in their company, if only for a fleeting moment, warred with the overwhelming sense of unworthiness that gnawed at my soul.

But as Mor reached out to take my hand, her touch a gentle reminder of the bond we shared, a surge of jealousy and resentment swept through me. My gaze flickered to Cassian, his powerful wings a constant reminder of everything I had lost. Anger boiled within me, bitter and consuming, as I struggled to suppress the envy that threatened to engulf me. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass," I managed to say, my voice betraying a hint of regret. "I'm not really in the mood for drinking tonight."

Mor's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing her features before she masked it with reassurance. "That's okay," she said softly, her words a soothing balm to the ache in my heart. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us."

With a nod of understanding, I watched as they disappeared into the throng of revelers, their laughter fading into the night. Left alone on the deserted street, the weight of my solitude pressed heavily upon me, a reminder of the chasm that separated me from the warmth of their companionship. As the echoes of their laughter dissolved into the stillness of the night, I couldn't shake the pang of resentment that lingered in my chest. But even amidst the darkness of my despair, I knew that I couldn't risk dragging my friends down with me. So, with a heavy heart, I turned away, retreating into the shadows once more, the silence of the night swallowing me whole.

The faint glow of moonlight, a silver cascade, filtered through the windows, casting ethereal patterns across the dimly lit kitchen of the Night Court's sprawling estate. I stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by a haphazard array of pots, pans, and ingredients scattered across the countertops. My attempt at cooking had quickly spiraled into a messy disaster, each failed endeavor only serving to fuel my frustration further.

As I grappled with the stubborn lid of a jar, a voice sliced through the silence, its presence both unexpected and unwelcome.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Startled, I turned to find Rhysand standing in the doorway, his silhouette a stark contrast against the luminescent backdrop. His wings, a breathtaking display of power and grace, unfurled behind him like the majestic sails of a ship, the membrane-like skin gleaming in the moonlight. They seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, each beat a testament to the freedom and strength they embodied. My heart clenched at the sight, a bitter pang of jealousy twisting in the depths of my soul. Once, I had known that same sense of freedom, had soared through the skies with effortless grace, my wings slicing through the air like a blade through silk. But now, they were gone, cruelly ripped from my back by those who sought to break me.

An ache, dull and persistent, throbbed in the space where my wings had once been, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I longed to feel the wind beneath me, to taste the exhilarating rush of flight once more, but it was nothing more than a distant dream, forever out of reach.

"None of your business," I snapped, my voice a whipcrack of frustration, my fingers still wrestling with the stubborn jar lid. The last thing I needed was his pity, his condescending attempts to help when I clearly didn't want it.

Rhysand's gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he approached with cautious steps, his movements a ballet of grace. "You're making quite a mess," he observed, his voice gentle but firm, like the soothing murmur of a distant stream. "Let me help you."

I recoiled from his touch, the anger bubbling to the surface like molten lava erupting from the depths of the earth. "I don't need your help," I spat, my voice tinged with venom, the bitterness like bile in my throat. "I don't need anyone."

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence hanging heavy in the air as Rhysand regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "You're clearly upset," he said softly, his words a gentle caress against the storm raging within me. "Let me help you. Let us help you."

But I refused to listen, the tempest of my emotions raging unabated, the walls around my heart fortified against any intrusion. With a strangled cry of frustration, I shoved past him and fled from the room, the echoes of his words following me like a haunting refrain, the cadence of his footsteps a melancholy echo in the corridors of my mind.

Alone in the sanctuary of my darkened chamber, I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of my own solitude pressing down upon me like a suffocating avalanche. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I buried my face in the pillows, the emptiness consuming me like a ravenous beast, its jaws gnashing at the frayed edges of my soul.

"Mind if I join you?"

Nesta's voice broke through the silence, her presence a welcome intrusion in the stillness of the night. I turned to face her, my expression guarded and wary, unsure of what to expect. She stepped onto the balcony, her graceful movements a stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed upon my own shoulders. There was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered beneath the surface.

"I know what it's like," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet expanse of the night. "To push people away, to build walls around your heart so high that no one can reach you."

I bristled at her words, the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface like a dormant volcano awakening from its slumber. How dare she presume to understand the depths of my despair, the darkness that threatened to consume me from within?

"You have no idea what I'm going through," I snapped, my voice tinged with bitterness. "You have Cassian, you have someone who loves you unconditionally. I have no one."

Nesta's gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she reached out to take my hand. "I may have Cassian, but that doesn't mean I haven't faced my own demons," she said gently. "I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in darkness, to feel like there's no way out."

I recoiled from her touch, the walls around my heart growing ever taller with each passing moment. "I don't need your pity," I retorted, my voice laced with venom. "I don't need anyone."

Nesta's expression faltered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it with a steely resolve. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But just know that I'm here if you ever change your mind. No judgments, no expectations. Just someone who understands." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own sorrow.

The library exuded an atmosphere of solemn tranquility, its shelves adorned with ancient tomes and illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles. I sat ensconced amidst the towering pillars of knowledge, a solitary figure in the midst of a vast sea of wisdom, my thoughts tumultuous and unruly.

"I’m joining you.”

The voice, sharp and unwavering, pierced the silence like a dagger, its intrusion disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the room. Startled, I glanced up to find Amren standing before me, her gaze penetrating and incisive, cutting through the veil of my solitude with unnerving precision.

"Fine," I sighed, my voice tinged with resignation as I gestured for her to take a seat. Amren wasted no time in settling herself across from me, her movements fluid and purposeful, her eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"You look like hell," she remarked bluntly, her words a harsh echo in the stillness of the library.

I bristled at her candor, the urge to lash out bubbling up from the depths of my despair like a tempest on the horizon. But there was something in Amren's gaze, a glimmer of genuine concern beneath the steely facade, that gave me pause. She wasn't asking out of idle curiosity; she genuinely wanted to understand the turmoil that churned within me.

"It's nothing," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet her probing stare.

Amren snorted in disbelief, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine with unrelenting intensity. "Don't give me that bullshit," she retorted, her tone sharp and unyielding. "I may not be the touchy-feely type, but even I can see that something's eating you alive."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing with each passing moment as I struggled to find the words to express the depth of my despair. But before I could respond, Amren reached out and grasped my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the steel in her eyes. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through," she said softly, her voice a quiet reassurance in the stillness of the library. "But I do know one thing: you don't have to face it alone. We're your friends, and we're here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, as I looked into Amren's unwavering gaze. In that moment, I realized that she was right. I didn't have to carry the weight of my despair alone. I had friends who cared about me, who were willing to stand by my side through the darkest of times. But even as the realization washed over me like a tidal wave, a part of me rebelled against the idea of letting them in. The walls around my heart, built brick by brick in an attempt to shield myself from further pain, felt impenetrable, insurmountable.

With a trembling breath, I pulled my hand away from Amren's grasp, my movements abrupt and jerky. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice strained with emotion. "I don't need anyone."

Amren's expression hardened, her eyes flashing with barely concealed anger as she stared at me, incredulous. "You're a fool if you think you can face this alone," she spat, her voice cold and cutting. "But fine, if that's how you want it. Just know that when you finally come crawling back, don't expect us to welcome you with open arms."

And with that, she rose from her seat and stormed from the room, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own despair. Even as the silence settled around me like a suffocating blanket, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my soul.

As the twilight descended, casting its ethereal veil over the Night Court's training grounds, I found myself standing alone at the edge of the courtyard, my heart heavy with the burden of my own anguish. The fading light painted the world in hues of amber and indigo, a melancholy backdrop to the tempest raging within.

With measured steps, Azriel approached, his presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos of my emotions. His silhouette merged with the shadows, his eyes alight with concern as he drew near. "Are you alright?" His voice, a tender caress against the backdrop of the evening's symphony, reached out to me, offering solace in the darkness.

I turned to face him, my heart aching with the weight of unspoken words, the tumult of my soul laid bare in the vulnerability of my gaze. "Do I look alright?" I whispered, the bitterness of my sorrow echoing in the stillness of the night. "Do I seem like someone who has it all together?"

Azriel's expression softened, his gaze a mirror to the storm brewing within me. "I'm just trying to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle melody that stirred the depths of my wounded spirit.

Tears welled in my eyes, the ache in my chest threatening to consume me whole. "Maybe I don't want your help," I confessed, the admission a fragile confession of my deepest fears. "Maybe I'm tired of everyone trying to fix me, like I'm some broken thing in need of repair."

The hurt that flickered in Azriel's eyes pierced through me, his anguish a reflection of my own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laden with remorse, a silent plea for understanding.

My resolve wavered, the walls around my heart crumbling in the face of his compassion. "I don't need your apologies," I confessed, the weight of my pain heavy upon my shoulders. "I just need… I don't know what I need."

With that, I turned away, the vulnerability of my confession hanging heavy in the air between us. As I retreated into the enveloping darkness, I felt the warmth of Azriel's presence recede, leaving me alone with the ache of my own brokenness. And in the stillness of the night, I grappled with the realization that perhaps, amidst the chaos of my despair, what I truly longed for was the one thing I had pushed away—the comforting embrace of someone who cared.

But even as I yearned for solace, the sight of Azriel, the one who had rescued me from the clutches of darkness, stirred within me a tumult of conflicting emotions. His Illyrian heritage, his wings—symbols of strength and freedom—served as painful reminders of the horrors I had endured. And in his compassionate gaze, I saw reflected the shadows of my past, haunting me with memories I longed to forget. It was hard to see him, to confront the echoes of my trauma that lingered in his presence, yet even amidst the pain, there remained a flicker of hope—something that clung so tight, that wouldn’t let go, and that throbbed in the presence of him.

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[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Yukichi Fukuzawa (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Yukichi Fukuzawa x GN! Reader

Warning: Yandere. OOC. Spoilers for "The Untold Origins of the Detective Agency". Fukuzawa doesn't like you at first. Overprotective Fukuzawa. English is my second language.

Becoming self-aware

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa Yukichi is a stoic man. Fukuzawa Yukichi is a swordsman. Fukuzawa Yukichi was an assassin. Fukuzawa Yukichi was a bodyguard. Fukuzawa Yukichi is a President of the Armed Detective Agency. And, apparently, he never has been real.

👘🗡️ It takes everything for Fukuzawa not to lose himself.

👘🗡️ Was his previous life a lie? Were the lives of his workers a lie too?

👘🗡️ What about other Yokohama citizens? Are ADA members the only ones who gained self-awareness? Are they the only ones who stayed in this cursed place?

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa wanted to scream. He wanted to do something, anything, to stop this real life nightmare.

👘🗡️ But there is no point in grieving. ADA need him to be strong.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa ordered everyone to travel in pairs. After taking a quick look at other floors and finding them empty, Fukuzawa ordered to move living quarters into the ADA building.

👘🗡️ The first day was hard. The next ones wasn't easier.

👘🗡️ Atsushi was afraid of been alone. Kunikida was a husk of his former self. Yosano was ready to destroy anyone who crossed her path. Junchirou put all his efforts in looking after Naomi. Naomi was avoiding all of them. Kirako was behaving like a robot. Katai was working day and night. Kenji tried to stay positive, but he also was lost. Kyouka was ready to become a killer again, if it helps the agency. Ranpo was working as much as he can. And, while each time he couldn't find something useful, Ranpo pretended not to be bothered by it, Fukuzawa still could see, that Ranpo became sadder and sadder. Dazai was aloof and closed off.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa saw his workers distress. He could see their pain. And he can't do anything to ease their pain.

👘🗡️ He talked to them. Offered a shoulder to cry on. But it wasn't enough.

👘🗡️ He tried to be strong for them. But, time to time, he almost broke.

👘🗡️ The news, that they weren't the only one, who is self-aware, were... good. At some extent. At least, there were other people.

👘🗡️ And then, one day, he feels an entity's gaze on him.

___________________

It was watching...

It was observing...

It was not something familiar...

Years of training have sharpened Fukuzawa's senses.

They were sharp enough to observe The Entity in return.

Fukuzawa is patient. He is observing The Entity. He is waiting for its first move.

Fukuzawa was an assassin. He still remembers, how to follow his target. But he can't follow this target.

He trusts his guts and years of training. He is sure, that he is not mistaken. Fukuzawa was sure, that this thing isn't there. The Entity is hiding in a different world.

When Atsushi asked if they have felt someone's gaze on them, Fukuzawa answered, that he has felt it.

Others have felt it too. Their conditions became worse. Most of his workers became angrier.

All because of This Entity.

Fukuzawa is trying harder to find a way to The Entity. To this strange emotionless thing.

When he will find it, he will make sure this creature will be destroyed.

He won't let this thing poison his workers lives anymore.

And then time resets.

And Fukuzawa, once again, was thirty-two-years-old bodyguard, whose last client were assassinated.

________________________

When they start feeling your presence

👘🗡️ At first, Fukuzawa was just standing there. At first glance, he looked calm. But in reality, he was enraged, he was scared, he was lost.

👘🗡️ He felt The Entity's gaze again. But in a second, the ominous presence disappeared.

👘🗡️ Instead, he felt, like something was floating above him.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa looked up. A blob of light. A small, shapeless blob of light. He can tell, that it is The Entity. Of course, it wasn't its real form. And he heard a voice. Just a whisper, that came from the blob.

"young..." "cool..." "strong..."

👘🗡️ Then blob gently lowered itself and settled on Fukuzawa's head. The Blob seems happy.

👘🗡️ And Fukuzawa felt its happiness. Fukuzawa felt, like he just drank some good tea.

👘🗡️ Okay... He didn't expect this. Fukuzawa was puzzled. This Entity has emotions? And it decides to become a light blob.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa tries to touch the blob. But his fingers passed through it. And Blob doesn't seem to notice Fukuzawa's actions.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa decided to go to the company of his late client. He needs to meet Ranpo.

👘🗡️ And like this, with a light blob on his head, Fukuzawa was on his way.

👘🗡️ When Fukuzawa arrived, he, once again, had to preform an impossible movement, just to get to the room with the caught assassin.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa heard, that Entity spoked again. This time, the voice was louder, but not really clear.

"Fukuzawa [||||||||||] awesome! [|||||||||||||] bodyguard ever!"

👘🗡️ The Blob on his head purred. It was... cute.

👘🗡️ During the next few minutes, Blob, once again, was floating above him, above young assassin, above secretary, above Ranpo.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa noticed, that, he was the only one, who can see the Blob.

👘🗡️ During their talk in a café, Blob were floating above them.

👘🗡️ After secretary's crimes were exposed, and Fukuzawa agreed to treat Ranpo, he asked, if Ranpo heard The Entity. Ranpo confirmed that yes, he has heard them.

👘🗡️ For the first time, since Fukuzawa learned about The Entity's existence, he felt calm. They... don't seem bad. Simply curious. Not malicious.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa and Ranpo finally went to the theater, where Fukuzawa's next job should be.

👘🗡️ When he met Ranpo for the first time, Fukuzawa was so irritated by the child's behavior, he thought about fifty-one ways of getting rid of him. Fukuzawa hoped, that this time, Ranpo would be less annoying. He was mistaken.

👘🗡️ Not only Ranpo was as annoying as before, The Blob was laughing. The Blob seems amused by Ranpo's behavior. Fukuzawa felt exhausted.

👘🗡️ At the end of their walk, Fukuzawa had thought about thirty ways of getting rid of the Blob. And he proclaimed it loudly, pointing at it. Ranpo looked confused, but didn't ask any questions.

👘🗡️ When Ranpo was kidnapped, and Fukuzawa was looking for him, he could feel The Entity's worry and fear.

👘🗡️ When Fukuzawa was lecturing Ranpo, The Entity was also lecturing him

👘🗡️ The Entity were never evil... Fukuzawa was grateful, that he learned it before he can seriously hurt The Blob... Little Light.

👘🗡️ The time 'resets again'. Fukuzawa 'woke up' in the ADA office. Atsushi's entrance exam just ended a moment ago.

👘🗡️ Days passed. Slowly, others became back to normal. As Fukuzawa learned from talks, The Entity was praising them. They were crying with them. They were treating them like humans.

👘🗡️ And one more thing were new there.

👘🗡️ The Light Blob, that were floating above them. And, again, others didn't notice it.

👘🗡️ Now it didn't stay with Fukuzawa for long. He wished, that Little Light will stay with him longer. He wished, he heard their voice again.

👘🗡️ Ranpo has discovered, that Little Light is normal human.

👘🗡️ The next day, Dazai started a meeting in Fukuzawa's office. Dazai confessed, that he also can see Little Light Blob. If one feels Guiding Light presence long enough, they start seeing the Little Light Blob. Dazai offered to start working on finding a way to Their Guiding Light. That's how Dazai called them.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa and the rest of ADA agree.

👘🗡️ ADA has decided to find a way to their world. So they can be near them.

👘🗡️ And then, Atsushi and Kyouka were kidnapped by Port Mafia again.

___________________________

"A comrade is in danger. We need to rescue him. Is there some weightier logic in the world which trumps that?"

Fukuzawa Yukichi felt, how Light Blob flew closer to him. He heard the voice.

"kind" "true leader" "everyone is safe with him"

"Fukuzawa, you are a great leader. All ADA members are safe with you. You will never let them be hurt. I think, they are very lucky to have such a kind and loyal man as their leader."

Little Light flew closer to Fukuzawa and pet his shoulder.

[In reality, you carefully pet the manga panel with Fukuzawa on it.]

______________________

👘🗡️ When Dazai offers to arrange a meeting between Fukuzawa and Ougai Mori, Fukuzawa agrees. They need more people. More people to find a way to Their Guiding Light.

👘🗡️ The meeting was a success. After hearing about working together with finding a way to the real world, to Their Guiding Light, Mori immediately agrees.

👘🗡️ Some time passed. The Guild joined them. And Rats. And DOA. And Hunting Dogs. And The Government.

👘🗡️ All of them were together. Joined their forces in finding a way to you.

And then, one day, during one of their meetings, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

_____________________

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa will be the first, who will try to raise the chance of getting his card from the scout.

👘🗡️ Soon, you will have all your Fukuzawa cards with max level skill.

"This SR Summer Festival Fukuzawa card looks good"

"Wow, Fukuzawa's skill deals so much damage"

"I like when I see Fukuzawa's sprite in The Office"

👘🗡️ When BSD gang will gain access to the rest of your phone, Fukuzawa will find information about dangers in your world. He can't allow anyone to hurt you. You are under his protection. He is your bodyguard. He will keep you safe.

��🗡️ Likes to look at cat videos, cat pictures and cat memes with you.

👘🗡️ Last time, he touched the Little Light, hie couldn't do it. But he will get this chance, when they will go to your world. He wants to touch your face. To feel, that you are real.

👘🗡️ Fukuzawa Yukichi was a bodyguard. And for you, he will become him again. Fukuzawa Yukichi is a President of the Armed Detective Agency. And he will use his authority to help you. And Fukuzawa Yukichi soon will be real. Others soon will be real. Real, as you are. Their Guiding Light.

________________________

You finally get a new Fukuzawa card. When you finish level it up, you saw a notification from the "Gift Box".

It was a note from Fukuzawa. With Awakening materials attached to it.

"[Y/N], I hope that you are safe. Please, be careful. The world is a dangerous place. I wish I could protect you. Fukuzawa Yukichi"

You smile and open Fukuzawa'd card again. You carefully pet sprite's shoulder.

"Thank you, Fukuzawa. I am grateful, that you want to protect me. Perhaps, one day, you could do it."

You didn't notice, that Fukuzawa's eyes shine with dangerous light.

[lilacxquartz]

Don't Make Me Feel Alive | Chapter 2

Kenjaku (Pseudo-Geto) × Fem!Reader

[This fic contains Shibuya Arc spoilers and is updated every Saturday.]

ABOUT: Diagnosed at an early age with an illness that slowly deteriorated your body; you went from being a promising sorcerer to a retired husk of your once former self until he found you, offering you an opportunity to live instead—not that you had a choice to refuse.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’re not sure how, but he did a good job in keeping you up and running, albeit on limited energy.

TAGS/THEMES: (in the future chapters): »yandere, chronically ill reader, forced dynamic, non-con, dub-con, violence, caretaking, unrequited feelings, sorcerer reader, dead-dove, mixed pov, potential interpretations of dubious sorcery«

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

[Side Note:] extremely dubious sorcery up ahead, after feverishly researching cursed tools in jjk until like 3am, there doesn’t really seem to be any real limit, so we will pretend this all works. also his name isn’t revealed until the next chapter, so he’s just a he for now instead of kenjaku :)

***

2. Trial and Error

Reluctantly, you ended up accepting his help as long as he followed through with restoring you back to life, finding that to his credit, he proved somehow more capable than the hospital staff—his care actually keeping you in check and as a result, preventing the disease from completely claiming you.

His method of keeping you alive initially was through channelling energy into your body, pushing a small fraction into your core, forcing you to live.

However, while it proved effective, it was inefficient and unsustainable, even draining on him.

Luckily, he was quick to devise an alternative, just for you.

“This should do the job better,” he announced as he fastened a chain around your neck, a small item of some sort resembling an amulet weighing it down.

“And what is this…?” you asked, fiddling with the pendant as it rested slightly heavily against your chest.

“It’s a cursed tool containing a looping feedback of energy,” he explained, gently guiding your hand from the stone, not wanting for you to somehow damage it already, “you can draw energy from it and it will give you life, simply returning it to the pendant once you have spent it.”

“That… totally makes sense,” you replied, not following at all.

He rolled his eyes, wondering how to explain it exactly, putting on (somewhat) good behaviour while he still had you in his reach. For as long as you remained compliant, he would be neutral.

“Consider it a bit like breathing; it gives you energy that then returns to the stone that it then gives back to you.”

“And this will… this will cure me?” you asked with some hope.

“Not at all,” he replied rather bluntly, “but, it will prevent you from dying. Your disease, while incurable, won't be the cause of your death as long as you just keep this pendant close.”

“Oh,” you replied, knowing deep down that it was all too good to be true, after all.

“Also,” he spoke, still needing to hold your attention, “surprise, surprise—there’s a catch to it.”

“T-there is?”

“While it gives energy, it also takes away energy as it restores itself,” he explained as he held the pendant in his hand, “so there is a chance you will feel your condition in its raw form as it recharges.”

“Wouldn’t that kill me?” you warily asked.

“No,” he continued to explain, shaking his head, “the energy is constant, but it’s closer to being a battery, if anything. Just like when an electronic device powering down when the battery is low, doesn’t mean it’s nonfunctioning. So, I suggest sleeping during that time.”

“So, my condition will still continue to develop when this… ‘battery’ thing is recharging?” You asked, feeling a little defeated at the thought. While you liked the idea of staying alive, you didn’t like the pain during your down time.

“Correct,” he confirmed as his smile returned, “although there is a chance I might be able to prevent that in the future. Don’t get your hopes up though.”

A deep and heavy silence followed as you processed the words that he delivered, feeling equal parts relieved that you had an opportunity to prolong your existence so you didn’t have to meet a premature end—while also feeling defeated, knowing that the disease will continue to worsen as time passes you by.

All things considered however, you already were in the late stages of your illness as it already had done its damage, so technically speaking, whether it got worse or not, if it was somehow even manageable, then it wouldn’t have been for nothing.

All you had to do was help someone that you probably really shouldn’t. Besides, you felt normal right now, what if he’s able to fix that even further?

“Anyway, I want you to try walking,” he spoke up after a while, his hardened gaze relaxing as he longed for his experimentation to continue—feeling that this method was strangely humane for someone like him, he could have taken a more drastic turn with you, but he played the safer route for now.

The temptation to dissect you was still fresh in his mind though, wanting nothing more than to crack you open to prod and poke at your mind, maybe even finding some sort of anomaly that surgeons couldn’t but it was all too risky. From what he knew about your disease, it was a neurological flaw, so as to not damage your capabilities further, he refrained.

As a compromise, he settled on something simpler. A cursed tool was fine for the time being.

It would do for now, he thought.

Besides, it was actually sort of fun—as long as you were compliant. Had you not been so easy to work with, then he would have done more to make you give in. He almost felt disappointed that didn’t fight back more, wanting to mess with you until you gave in.

But, this wasn’t bad either.

He then observed you quietly as you fulfilled his request, slowly rising from the bed, making a mental note of each and every single movement you made. His eyes continued to glare over you, watching carefully as you gambled your own stability.

You gritted your teeth as you struggled to maintain composure, focusing all of your efforts into hopefully regaining control of your legs—being unfortunately familiar with the loss of sensation from time to time. Walking quickly became something you dreaded as the disease ate away at your core, exhausting you whenever you would try to fight it.

“You can manage a little step can’t you? I’m sure you’re not that weak,” he teased, offering you some encouragement to take a step forward, feeling slightly frustrated as you remained statued on the spot, too cautious to move.

Eventually though, you did finally take a step forward, finding that you could indeed walk, even if your legs did feel strangely heavy but you supposed that it had also been a while since you were last out of bed.

His gaze meanwhile locked on the pendant, observing that while you used up a significant amount of energy, that this might stabilise over time as you continued to train yourself to get back on track.

His end game was to harvest some sort of function from you come Halloween; the night that his long-awaited plans would finally take place. He had just under a year to build on those final details, having already found a set direction with how he wanted for this all to unfold.

This whole thing was just a what if—an experiment, a side project at best, so he had some time to spare, finding it almost fun in restoring a sorcerer, a challenge that he hadn’t yet attempted.

“Can you channel your technique at all?” he asked you, intending to try and test something out.

You nodded as you attempted to channel your own dormant cursed energy, feeling the life energy that you had otherwise lacked before. Your hands drew out wishing blue flames and upon forming the correct sign, electricity crackled at the edge of your fingertips—in turn, his dark eyes lit up with fascination as he continued to trial the limitations with you.

“So you aren’t useless. Now hit me with it,” he requested next, wanting to see if it would actually electrocute him or if it would feel like a tingle.

“Like… attack you?” you warily asked.

“I can take it,” he teased, a small arch forming on his lips.

He thought that it was actually kind of amusing that you were so hesitant to do so, especially considering the strange situation he had you tied up in. In his mind, you should want to grasp at the opportunity to attack him, not question the very idea.

You hesitantly nodded in response, doing your best to channel your cursed energy, locking it into a pointed sign, launching an attack that hit him with a crackle of electrifying energy—initially feeling pleasantly surprised that you were able to do so, but then feeling terribly wrong as something felt violently off.

Suddenly, your body was overcome with sweeping exhaustion; quickly draining you of the remaining energy that the pendant offered, leaving you feeling completely and utterly depleted. Your vision darkened next, pulling—pushing you somewhere unknown, not quite meeting with death but at least mingling with it.

Noticing this quickly, he took a step forward to catch you before you collided with the floor. He grunted as he allowed for you to fall forward with his body tanking the hit, your frame leaning against the front of his own for support—without realising he was doing it, he held you closer, finding that he actually quite enjoyed the warmth.

Perhaps it was the fault of the situation he had placed you under; spending the last couple of days tending to your needs, ensuring that your health wouldn’t continue to deteriorate. As a result, this pushed him unintentionally closer to you, taking on the role of a caretaker whether it suited him or not—and, as he held you close, he couldn’t deny that some sort of connection was beginning to form.

As you otherwise started to slowly stir back awake, he pondered the possibility of surrendering this responsibility to one of his subordinates instead, knowing that they likely had nothing better to do. Yet, the more thought he gave the idea, the more it didn’t sit quite right with him.

After all, they lacked the knowledge that he did, they wouldn’t know exactly what to look out for nor would they know how to lessen the pressure of your condition, should the pendant fail to do so.

It was simply better to do it himself.

This was his project to bear the burden of and he wasn’t about to let it fall into the hands of someone who would likely kill you out of negligence alone.

So no, he thought, settling on a firm decision deep within his mind, dismissing the idea completely. His subordinates would mess it up somehow, he was certain of it.

So as he guided you carefully back to bed, he gently laid you down and focused his attention on the pendant, wondering what exactly could be done to prevent another hiccup like this in the future.

Thinking that maybe he could change the function of the cursed tool, he plotted potential adjustments that could ensure a more steady flow of energy, thinking that it could in theory be an easy fix.

Noticing that you were now at least partially awake, he placed a firm hand down on your shoulder to keep you in place.

Studying the pendant with unwavering curiosity, he spoke up to you in a detached tone, waving you off with the flick of his wrist, “Rest for now. I’ll think of something.”

You listened as the exhaustion encouraged you to do so anyway, feeling the heavy weight of sleep anchor you down.

He watched intently as you surrendered to a deep rest as slowly but surely the tension you harboured washed away. With each and every single breath that you took, your bruised complexion slowly returned to looking healthier again—the pendant in turn glowed, pulsating a ripple of energy as it slowly restored your core.

He took note of the pulsating from the amulet, still not being satisfied with it. Ideally, he wanted for the glow to be constant but that was something else to work on at another time. For now, he focused on the output conducted by you before doing anything else.

His eyes continued to lock onto your sleeping body for what felt like an eternity, his own limbs growing gradually stiff the longer he stood there. He did so in order to monitor your condition and ensure that nothing else would go wrong, but at least for now it all seemed as stable as it could possibly be.

Slowly he kept creeping closer as you slept, intending to work on the pendant while you were out cold. Whether he intended for it to happen or not, your recovery room started to merge with his workspace, deciding that it was better to work on the battery as closely as possible rather than to risk a potential death from letting his guard down and as such, even if it took many hours on end, an adjustment was made.

Whether or not it was successful however, only tomorrow would tell.

And if the pendant was able to actually fuel life when it shouldn’t, then he would have made another breakthrough. He just had to refine it all a little first.

It was then that exhaustion caught up to him as well as he felt his host body reel in from such unrelenting overtime. He yawned as his eyelids fell heavy against his eyes and his movements became gradually sluggish.

Despite such overwhelming fatigue, he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave you alone by yourself, at least not yet, speculating that this early on that failure was right around the corner.

It had been a long time since he had included someone so personally intertwined in his plans and admittedly, he found your company surprisingly tolerable, if even enjoyable.

Not that he would ever admit such a thing to you.

If you ever asked him if he liked you, he would simply leave you alone for days on end just to mess with you.

(Just to make you miss him.)

[gayhenrycreel]

i actually feel more welcome in cis spaces than trans spaces. it really feels like the queer community doesn't want me to be a man. i have had exactly one cis person misgender me, and he apologized. ive had trans people discourage me from transitioning and try to deny me the right to be masculine.

i dont want to wear drag levels of makeup. thats not me. masculinity has always come naturally to me, but femininity feels deeply unnatural, like slowly stabbing myself.

when i try to feminize myself, its selfharm. it makes me cry. it makes me feel like life is not worth living. repeatedly trying to convince me that id be happier if i was a woman (people say i can still be a man, but they also want me to wear makeup and dresses and not transition, so im sure they just want me to be a woman) is encouraging me to risk my life.

i even bought a dress. i tried it. i hated it. i cried.

when i look for trans stories i find scp articles featuring only transfems with no mention of transmascs, no matter how many other queer groups are included. often they imply that transfems are more oppressed than transmascs.

i dont even identify with transness. the idea this community has of what a trans man is is the opposite of me. the queer communitys concept of a trans man is a fetish.

thats not me. im just a man.

a lot of people dont believe that im trans because i pass so well. im a masculine person. as soon as im in a queer space i have to worry if my masculinity will be seen as something to fix.

i dont like being feminine. it kills me. it eats away at my soul until i am a husk of my former self.

ive faced more transphobia from trans people than i have from cis people. ive never had a cis person try to subtly tell me to try conversion therapy for my life threatening dysphoria.

[miquella-everywhere]

Elden Ring Analysis: The Greater Will and its control of Marika and Radagon

This is just me trying to figure out the timeline of Marika and Radagon along with some speculation.

The Greater Will sends down the Elden Beast and presumably around this time Marika is chosen to be the vessel for the Elden Ring (Whether she was born a vessel or chosen later in her life is unknown)

She marries Godfrey and the War of the Fire Giants happens, Marika/the Erdtree is victorious against them leaving only one Fire Giant left. She curses him to tend to the forge and she too is cursed herself either by the Giant or the Fell God

Marika presumably gives birth to Godwyn after this as there is no evidence that he fought during the War of the Giants(at least none that i could find)

Also at some point Morgott and Mohg were born. But it begs the question of who was born first? The Omen Twins or Godwyn 🤔 Who is Marikas first born?

And so it was also during this time that Marika likely began to harbor her own doubts about the Golden Order, and it likely stemmed from its treatment of Morgott and Mohg

I personally believe that Marika loved her children alongside Godfrey, but unfortunately for her and the twins, Order must be upheld, so they are cast away into the shunning grounds.

Marikas doubts began to grow and Godfrey went on to concur the rest of the Lands Between. He went on to the Stormlords in Limgrave and Castle Morne and when they all fell to him, the first part of Marikas plan began.

She divested grace from Godfrey and his warriors making them Tarnished.

So the Greater Will, sensing its vessels doubts, and potentially, her brewing betrayal, procured insurance and made Radagon.

And also, during this time while Godfrey was campaigning in the south, Leyndell was also seeing strife with the Carians and Raya Lucaria in the west.

Radagons exact origins are debatable, either the curse of the Fire Giants on Marika cast away and given life, but my personal belief is that he was taken from Marikas soul. Her literal other half.

With Marikas own faith wavering Radagon in turn was meant to be a perfect and loyal follower of the Golden Order; given all of his actions regarding Caria, going to war against them and then marrying into them when their subjugation wasn't an option, leaving without hesitation when he was called back and leaving Rennala a husk of her former self, (also turning rennalas wedding gift, the moonlight greatsword, into the golden order greatsword as a show of proof to his dedication to the Golden Order like how fucking RUDE) it was likely all according to a much larger plan to cripple Caria in order to make the Golden Order/Greater Wills influence more powerful

With all of this in mind, I would say that the extent of Radagons own agency and personhood is debatable.

So then, Marika exiles Godfrey and when that happens Radagon is called back to the Capital to become second Elden Lord (the exact timeframe between with Godfrey leaves and Radagon returns to Leyndell is unknown)

So Marika and Radagon wed and do the deed resulting in Miquella and Malenia.

The exact relationship that Marika had with her children is a mystery but considering the Gideon dialogue saying that "perhaps the Queens sorrow was justified" means that she cared for and loved them very much. And since Miquella and Malenia were both born cursed this likely added even more to Marikas grief and doubts about the Greater Will.

And while Radagons relationship with Malenia is unknown, in canon he was close with Miquella in their youth, as Miquella attempted to find a cure for Malenia within Golden Order Fundamentalism, Radagon was there by his sons side developing incantations

But when Miquella discovered that Fundamentalism could do nothing to cure Malenia of her rot, he promptly rejected it in full, and presumably Radagon as well.

Now, personally, I can't imagine that this went well for Radagon. Considering his "leal hound" status and how he is wholly dedicated to the Greater Will he possibly saw Miquella, his prodigy son, an Empyrean chosen to potentially succeed Marika(Himself) as perfect. So when his golden child rejected everything to do with the Golden Order it probably stung Radagon to his core. (but thats just my opinion lol)

So Miquella and Malenia leave Leyndell and a few several centuries or millennia pass and then the fateful Night of the Black Knives happens.

Godwyn the Golden is murdered. Queen Marika is driven to the brink. And shatters the Elden Ring. While Radagon attempts to repair it at the same time.

Now with the shattering of the Elden Ring Marika is essentially commiting suicide as she is its vessel. She is the Elden Ring as much as the Elden Ring is also Radagon. And so the two halves, once separate but destined to become one, as per the Law of Regression, fuse together permanently and are imprisoned within the Erdtree by the Elden Beast.

And even though Radagon attempted to repair the Elden Ring and was still completely loyal to the Golden Order, he too was punished, as he is at his core, whether he wants to be or not, Queen Marika.

And this also makes me believe that Radagon and Marika most likely despised eachother.

Edit:

Also ANOTHER interesting thing featuring Marika and her apparent disdain for the Golden Order is her relationship with Maliketh. Her shadow and supposed half-brother is treated very poorly by Marika, or at least that's how the item description read to me. Marikas sole purpose for Maliketh was to contain destined death, and after that she had no further use for him and kinda just... tossed him to the side. And yet Maliketh still remains loyal to her, and continues to try a battle and consume death, as that is what killed Marikas beloved Godwyn.

Although there also may have been a lapse in his loyalty, specifically when Marika shattered the Elden Ring. There's a red stake/spear(?) going through her body as she's imprisoned in the Edtree and I believe that may have been inflicted by Maliketh, for a Shadow must put down their Empyrean if they ever stray from the Erdtrees path.

[skullytotheark]

[design drawn by Peachy-cloudds]

My Personal headcanons for The Operator / Slenderman

[warning: a SHIT tone of writing almost sorry not actually]

The Main inspirtation is by the concept of a hivemind plantlike entity, Has this concept been done before for Slender. Yea, Am I still gonna use it? Yea 🤭 [i love eldritch plant beings they're so cool]

-

In World Lore:

An extremely long time ago, A being of unknown origin manifested into the world, Simply appearing out of the blue. Being able to exist on all four layers of existence with no consequence for it's actions. Originally said to be an old folk tale elders would tell to children to scare them, The Operator, although known across the world as multiple names, Some extremely fitting while others were uncreative / unoriginal. The entity within the tale would maintain the same behavior in every culture that was made aware of it. Often stalking heavily wooded areas attempting to lure those who were unexpecting into the forest where it will stalk it's prey until they barely escape or become it's next meal. However even escape was never the last one would see the Operator. As it continued to stalk those who saw it relentlessly until it grows tired of the same torment. Or It claims another life. The operator was once said to be in many books recording folklore; however the pages and stories of encounters with it have simply been erased from existence. As if it tears the pages out itself. Wanting to remain within the darkness where it can watch and wait for those who are unaware.

-

Headcanons:

Spiders tend to make small nests in the small holes that are on slender’s body, These spiders due to long exposure can give you the drowning if they bite you

The Spiral in the center of Slender’s face can hypnotize it’s victims. In my canon it’s how Slender gains most of it’s proxies

The reason Slender can disturb cameras and cause them to break is because of the electric frequency it admits. Similar to how fungi also admit Electric frequencies and is also source of the strange staticy hiss that tends to admit and follow Slender around

Slenderman is just a fae of sorts [which is just a fancy way of saying fairies], The type of fae that typically kidnap children and eat them. In my HC I kinda like to think that it is considered to be one of the first mythical forest spirits [also implying that Slender is old as balls]

-

The Drowning / Slendersickness:

The drowning is a form of “Sickness” one can get when being exposed to the entity known as “The Operator” for a long period of time. It gets its name due to the feeling of choking on water and lack of air in your lungs

Normally you’d have to be in contact or near the Operator to contact the drowning however if one is sick with the drowning the drowning can be easily passed onto you with or without knowing it. Another way to get it is if you are marked by the Operator which can give you Stage 2 Of the drowning within the matter of seconds. The sickness originates from Spores that come from The Operator which are a lesser version of the Operator's final stage "The Tower ''. The following symptoms include Violent coughing [to the point of blood], Vomiting, Violent hallucinations, Trouble breathing, Seizures, Violent outbursts / episodes and dissociating. To summarize it, A Lot of the time Sickness slowly but surely eats away at your humanity until you are but a husk of your former self, Causing you to become aggressive and violent towards others. The Operator then feeds off of the conflict and uses it to make it stronger

-

[Hoody / Brian in the Ark As seen in Entry# 83 At 6:30]

The Ark:

In Later years The Operator managed to make it’s own personal realm, Made to store the souls of those it has killed [or by proxy] and to drive those who enter it insane. Playing hallucinations that are personal to everyone who enters until they either die or find an exit [which is nearly impossible]. The realm as mentioned stores souls of it that have been killed that are being fed on by whatever lies in the pit that resides within the middle of the Ark, These dead victims are often in a paralyzed state where they are unable to move or speak as they slowly but surely melt into the surface of the Ark slowly becoming apart of it. However The Broken are basically souls that the "Ark" isn't able to feed off of since they are impure, Of course the broken are basically just victims of the Operator that have cracks on their body like fragile glass in a way. These souls and bodies are also often use as infinite battery packs for the Operator, Feeding off of the souls makes them more Powerful, The More souls there are the more of a threat it can become

-

[Example image I drew to help explain it kinda]

The Hivemind

The Operator has more than one variant that all act as a single hive mind sharing the same exact thoughts. The following examples are The Tower, The Drones and Hallucination

The Tower: The Tower is the main source of the hivemind, These variants are basically the "Queen Bees" that pop out smaller versions of themselves to scout for food and return it to the Nest. Towers often borrow themselves deep underground where they cannot be touched, often growing extremely giant, For example they can grow to the size of the statue of liberty before stopping. Their tentacles can connect to the roots of trees which allows them to shift the forest at their command, It's also worth noting that the hivemind all share the same thoughts

Drones: The drones are basically mini clones of the hivemind that are produced so the tower doesn't have to expose itself to the outside world and get injured or killed, Their goal is to collect food until the Tower is ready to bloom. But a lot of the time these drones will hypnotize people into doing their biddings for them which is considered to be the norm nowadays. It's also less stress for the drones incase they do not wish to be discovered by the outside world. Drones can also eventually grow into Towers if they live long enough

Hallucinations: These are as you expect, They're the dones way of messing with your head by haunting you and breaking you mentality. They often appear in hallucinations and aren't the actual drones themselves, The main way to tell the difference between a drone and a hallucination is by the color of their tie. Red means that they are physically there attacking you while black means it's not real

-

[lazy doodle by me]

The great blooming / The arrival:

this event is pretty straight forward. So the main reason these towers need to collect so much food and souls is so that they can bloom, Their heads unraveling to reveal a black rose that shoots out a giant cloud of spores that will infect those whoever breathes the spores in. These spores have the regular side effects such as the drowning, However those who are infected with the Tower's Spores are a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. If one is infected long enough their heads will implode into a flower and spread more spores around them

-

[finagle-frazzle]

prefacing this with: i am not in the COTL fandom; i own the game but my computer Cannot Run it (i will be playing soon. i hope)

i saw @vurelly 's post about 'COTL but Old' and its been a brainworm

anyways have this-

--------

There is something tragic about being the last of your kind.

Watching those around, one by one, pass on - to the land of Death, beyond your reach. But it is a part of life that one can and should accept. Death is inevitable and while it hurts, it is a natural part of life, right?

Right?

…

They hadn’t bothered to bind him in any way beyond throwing him into the cell. They knew better than that, and so did he. His body was enough of a prison - it took almost all he had just to sit against the wall.

He couldn’t see them, but he could hear it. His daughter– spitting vitriol at the guards as she was led away, leaving quiet terrified sobbing in her wake.

The next day, it was screaming. Heart wrenching, fist-clenching, screaming as his son pressed himself against the bars of his cage – only his wife and the forces of physics holding him back as they took him.

He couldn’t watch. He couldn’t bear to see the hiccoughing, tear-stained face pass him.

They were left with the wailing of a childless father, until it too was his turn.

Silence had fallen long ago on the prison, each day passing until he could barely move. What point was there to it anyways? What did he have left? It was somewhat a miracle they remembered him at all. He was so used to being an afterthought. Honestly, it was a surprise that food showed up everyday – every other day? He wasn’t sure.

But finally, it was his turn.

The cultists that hauled him to his feet weren’t gentle. No respect for their elders – and he voiced that opinion in hoarse, crackling voice to poor reception.

He didn’t feel real anymore. Just a husk of his former self, complete with lifeless limbs and hoarse voice.

The executioner didn’t even have to tell him to lie down on the block. It wasn’t like he could get up. The stone was cold, smooth – except for the obvious dried, crusty blood.

There were shapes in his peripheral vision. And voices. Louder than physically possible. They sounded like so many things – yet nothing at all.

“Before us stands the last of its kind. All others we have hunted down and put to the blade.”

Is this where they brought his family? His daughter, so dedicated to her faith. He could hear her, over the crackling of a campfire, regaling her nephew with the legend of the “One Who Waits”. Of course, his son would argue with her.

 “Why does he wait? If he’s our ‘Savior’, shouldn’t he be – you know, saving us?”

“With this final sacrifice, the prophecy will be impossible to fulfill.”

She would cross her arms, glaring at her sibling from across the clearing. “Gods are bound to prophecies, as we all are.”

Did her prophecies mention this? What sort of Savior could allow this?

“The heretic who lies bound below will be condemned to eternal captivity.”

Perhaps he could put up a fight. He was old – but at one point he has been strong; a leader, a warrior. Perhaps there was something left in him. His arms were bound but he used the manacles around his wrists to hoist himself up. His arms did have some strength left in them after all!

Now, if he could just get a weap– his scheming was cut short when one of the cultists brought down a club on the back of his skull. Stars exploded in his vision, his arms losing the tenuous hold they had on the execution block, his head slamming back down on the stone surface. There was something warm and wet slowly creeping across his face. Blood? Perhaps. It didn’t matter much now.

“And the Old Faith shall be preserved.”

There was something tragic about being the last of your kind.

But it was made all the worst when you weren’t supposed to be – when you had tried so hard not to be.

No parent should watch their children-

Their family -

Their future -

Die.

[waywardstation]

alright here we go...

I've brought together the basic outline of my idea... and since I said I share it here I am!

I really hope you like it and it is something interesting for you! I had a lot of fun fleshing out these ideas so it's alright.

~-~-~-~-~

Like it is established in your thoughts Warden Ingo is like an empty husk of who he used to be, torn away from his old life, his memories and from Emmet. I've added to this idea that there is a link between certain humans and Reshiram + Zekrom at all times. Aside the fact these humans have a high tendency of leaning into truth/ideals there isn't much else but it gives the dragons some kind of balance and ties to the people of Unova. Kyurem being "just" the husk has no such tie to the people, though it longs for one.

Ingos ties to Zekrom has been severed when he arrived in Hisui and as there already is a human tie in this time on top of being a shadow of his former self it has become a once in a lifetime moment for Kyurem to have a human tie as well.

Kyurem feels Ingo's presence all the way in Hisui and eventually seizes the opportunity to form a human tie with him. But things go horribly wrong and Ingo ends up being in a half frozen state. Never feeling truly warm; the few things his heart remembers from his old life keeping his core just warm enough.

With ice leaking out of him and an incident where he almost hurts (or does hurt) someone(not sure who), he steps down as a Warden and Instructor at the Dojo and decides to hide in one of the many ice caves in the Icelands, so he can no longer be a danger to the people. After all safety of others comes first, no matter what.

Enter Akari who just refuses to leave Ingo to his own misery and is determined to help him out of this no matter how. And no matter what it takes.

(I've also thought of the idea that since Ingo's tie with Zekrom has been severed it affects present Unova as well. With Zekrom being restless + causing random thunderstorms all over Unova. I can see N seeking out the Pokemon trying to find out what's wrong. Not sure though how much Emmet will be involved, I can see him being affected by the severed tie as well as Reshiram, not sure how at this moment though... Especially since Emmet isn't even aware of his tie... just that something is horribly wrong beside that Ingo is missing.)

~-~-~-~-~

and there you have it.

Its really just a rough outline, I think it will get better over time and sound less "rough"...

also excuse any mistakes. There are times I feel the face english isn't my native tongue come through and this might be one...

Hope you like it! Take all the time you need to reply! I am a bit nervous but I'm sure I'll be fine!

In regards to this post

OHHHH OH THIS IS SO COOL I LOVE THIS CONCEPT!! Kyurem wanting a connection with someone but it can’t in its empty state, augh… ;n;

MAN. I could certainly see how this tie would be severed especially if Ingo was placed into a different timeline when this happened (a timeline where he already exists and is fine in the present/hasn’t been sent back yet?). Putting something into a timeline separate from the Zekrom he’s connecting to, and into a timeline where a “him” already exists and is connected to that timeline’s zekrom would leave him without a connection at all. (WHEW THATS CONFUSING but I see your vision and ITS VERY VERY GOOD)

Especially if Ingo doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with this persistent cold and this feeling of connection, I could see why he’d want to separate himself from a situation. Even if it wasn’t a terribly bad incident, don’t give things a chance to do something worse, especially if you don’t understand what you’re dealing with.

I AM GLAD TO HEAR AT LEAST AKARI IS THERE TO HELP WHEN HE TRIES TO WITHDRAW. They will figure out what’s going on together!!!

I love the thought of Zekrom becoming restless. A tie was severed!! I doubt either of them have ever dealt with a situation like that and even know what a severed tie feels like. And the thought of N trying to figure things out and talk to the dragons as well… SO GOOD.

WHAT A GOOD OUTLINE, FRIEND!! I’m so glad you shared it, I enjoy this concept a lot and would love to hear additions you make to it as time goes on!! Thank you for sharing!!

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hope no one hasn't asked for Faust's hex nail before 🙏

But it's really intriguing to me as it has very weird sin resource requirements (literally only six envy) and it's also a weirder, yet somewhat telling sinner choice in my opinion

I really want to see what you (and possibly other people) think about it

Hoo boy, it's been a while hasn't it? Sorry for keeping everyone who sent asks waiting, but at least we're back!

It might take me a moment to get back into the groove, so if this analysis is a little bit weird structurally, uhhh... Sorry!

Now then, under the cut we go!

Alright, before we can get into Hex Nail, we first need to look at the Abnormality it comes from, Hurting Teddy Bear, as well as the Abno it's an Abberation of, Happy Teddy Bear.

Let's start with that last one. Happy Teddy Bear's main theme is abandonment, child-like innocence, and the loss of that innocence due to the passage of time. It's a plush toy that was left to tear and rot after its previous owner grew out of playing with it, and now it fears being abandoned again, hugging the people it grows attached to until they die out of its fear.

Interestingly enough, Happy Teddy Bear itself has not lost its innocence, unlike its owner. It doesn't seem to actually Want to kill people, it simply doesn't want them to leave, not being able to understand the idea that they could come back.

Now onto Hurting Teddy Bear. While Happy Teddy Bear seems to have been treated well by its owner before they left, Hurting Teddy Bear seems to have gone through the opposite. It's noted to have spent a lot of time in pain, and a lot of emphasis is put on its "emptiness".

The holes where its eyes should be are empty. The cavities left after pulling out the nails are called an "empty void". If the nails are dug deeper, the plush looks down but doesn't seem to notice anything is actually happening. Interestingly enough this reaction makes the narrator wonder if the plush is simply unable to feel pain, seemingly contradicting its initial description noting how its bloodstains are a sign of the pain it went through.

An interesting thing about Hurting Teddy Bear is how its hugs are described, and how little emphasis is put on them. When Happy Teddy Bear's hugs are noted, they are explicitly said to be something that the plush Wants to do, how it's something it Loves. They're actually noted quite often, as it's something the Abno is explicitly known for. For Hurting Teddy Bear however, its hugs are described only once, and specifically as a "duty" it has to fulfill.

So, here are the themes I think we're dealing with here.

First of all, loss of innocence, in this case specifically the loss of innocence caused by abuse. Physical abuse, if we take the bear's damage literally, and emotional abuse, if we take the idea of them piercing through the bear's heart more symbolically.

Another theme I think is good to note here is the idea of learned helplessness and/or obedience caused by abuse. The way Hurting Teddy Bear's hugs are described as a "duty" combined with the emphasis put on how empty the bear is gives me a picture of someone who has become a husk of their former self, going through life on auto-pilot and accepting the abuse they're put through without complaint.

With both of these in mind, let's look at the main point of interest here.

Faust. And Hex Nail.

I'm going to focus on the animation and dialogue lines first, since I think it's the kind of stuff anyone could analyze without delving deeper into Sin Analysis territory, and I think that's what I'm gonna try to do in future E.G.O Analyses as well.

The Awakening dialogue line, "Pierce... to the profundities of the heart.", is of particular interest of me due to Faust's delivery here. Noticeably, she seems to uncharacteristically whisper a part of it, implying it's something that emotionally means a lot more to her than the rest of the line. Perhaps it brings back a notably bad memory, or has her feel anxious enough to not want to say it out loud?

I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Through my expert analysis (throwing the original korean version of the line into google translate and seeing what the individual parts of the line translate to), the part that makes Faust emotional here is the act of Piercing.

Remember how we mentioned that the theme of abuse plays a major part in the Abnormality this E.G.O is derived from, and how the nails pierced through it can be interpreted as either physical or emotional abuse, depending on whether they're taken literally or symbolically.

Considering how Faust here specifies the act of Piercing is being done to a heart, specifically to aim for its "profundities" (which means great depths of insight or knowledge), I think its fair to interpret this as more symbolic, thus implying more of an emotional kind of abuse.

If the act of Piercing here is meant to represent this abuse that Faust has potentially gone through, it would make sense why she would whisper it like she does. The phrasing used regarding what is being pierced to is quite interesting. Profundities aren't just any depths, it's specifically intellectual depths, fitting for Faust, yet odd considering we're talking about the heart, something that is more often symbolically connected to emotions than intelligence.

Was Faust's emotional intelligence the target of this Piercing? Was this Piercing trying to harm that part of Faust, or was it trying to expose it? Considering how Faust notably lacks social awareness as well as self awareness, I'd go out on a limb and posit it's the former.

Something else notable about Faust's Awakening here is the animation itself. The way she stabs the nail through her target is notably aggressive and violent, with her face even being covered by a shadow. It feels like a Major departure from her other Awakening animations, which show her attacks be seemingly more calculated and slower-paced. I think this just further proves how deeply this E.G.O touches Faust, and how truly personal it is to her.

Next, the Corrosion. This is the one other time we get to see Hurting Teddy Bear's hugs be referenced at all, and it's in an interesting form. Faust's line here, "Come here... I'll hug you tight...", is again notable from her vocal delivery. Faust sounds Very Emotional here, her voice almost trembling and by the end it edges to sounding like she's about to cry.

Considering how Hurting Teddy Bear's hugs are considered its "duty", it paints a very interesting picture of Faust's own potential duty. Perhaps following her given purpose causes her pain and suffering, but she pushes through it regardless.

Something I find important to note is another contrast between the hugs seen from the two Teddy Bears. For Happy Teddy Bear, the hugs by themselves aren't actually fatal, it's the bear deciding it doesn't want to let go that hurts the one it hugs. For Hurting Teddy Bear however, it's a completely different story. We see in Faust's Corrosion animation how this bear's hugs are inherently painful to the reciever, as it causes the bear's nails to pierce whoever it decides to hug.

I wonder, could this be interpreted as a symbolic representation of the cycle of abuse? The same nails that hurt the bear cause it to harm those it tries to show affection towards, perhaps also partially because that affection is not genuine, as the idea of giving hugs being seen as its duty suggests.

Perhaps Faust doing her job inflicts the same kind of suffering to others as she herself went through? Considering how we know she's the one behind everyone's contracts, yet had to have also been given a contract of her own to become a Sinner herself, it might not be too far off.

Then, there's the last little bit of the Corrosion animation we need to talk about. The box of cereal that falls out of Faust once she stops her attack, which proceeds to bleed on the floor. The imagery here is very easy to interpret as a symbolic representation of a miscarriage, and I don't think it's something that can be ignored in this analysis.

While the easy way to interpret it would be to say Faust is a mother who lost her child and leave it at that, I don't think it's nearly as simple as that. No, I think there's something else going on here that's a bit more abstract.

My personal interpretation here is that the box represents some part of Faust. Some form of child-like innocence and wonder that she loses each time she goes back to her duties. Every time she perpetuates what she herself has been through, she loses another part of herself, becoming further like the empty husk that Hurting Teddy Bear is.

Of course, I could be completely wrong here. We genuinely don't know enough about Faust to be sure.

Now, let's get to the part everyone actually knows me for. Sin Analysis.

Hex Nail is a Fascinating E.G.O, as it's all about a single Sin - Envy. Its Sin Affinity is Envy, and the Resources it needs are an obscene amount of Envy.

I hope that with all the prior analysis we've done, this actually starts making A Lot of sense.

Hex Nail is a representation of the abuse Faust has gone through at the hands of other people. Whether it's Limbus's higher ups, whoever gave her her own contract, or some other person we don't know yet, one thing is clear. Everything about Hex Nail screams the influence of other people.

It represents her learned helplessness, her obedience under others, her causing the same harm those she's obeying cause her... It's all about how her actions have been influenced by people who have authority over her.

It's Envy, the Sin of being influenced and controlled by other people, in its purest form. It truly shows how Faust lacks any control, how she's just a plaything being used by someone else, and how she passively accepts and follows whatever they put her through.

I think the fact that Sloth is not included in the resources despite the clear themes of obedience presented here further drives that point home. There is no resignation in the part of Faust that Hex Nail represents. It's all due to the influences of other people, adding to that image of an empty husk. Faust has no say in the matter. She has no control. Can it really be called resignation when you're so empty that you can't even resign yourself to your fate?

And as some extra icing on the cake, there's something poignantly cruel about Hex Nail Faust being fatal to Lust and Pride. The Sins tied to actions for one's own sake, whether for emotional fulfillment or tangible benefits, are the ones that hurt Faust the most in the state that reminds her of how few of her actions are actually truly her own.

A lot of this post is just blind speculation on my part, as Faust is one of the more mysterious characters within this cast. I could be completely off on some things for all I know, but I get the feeling I might be onto something here, even if it is just. A general direction, I suppose.

Also this post ended up. Much longer than my other ones, since I decided to go a bit more in depth than I usually do. However, I will also blame Flaw Peacock for this, as I recently got through one of his videos and the way he explains and notes things might have done something to my brain.

Either way, hope this one was enjoyable for you guys, as a return to my longass analytical postings.

[lyrichi]

Falling

Hey guyys!!! so erm I found some of my old writing and was lowkey tweaking over it so.... lololol posting time!!

~1k words and there might be mistakes, this is also supposed to be sanegiyu but no names are mentioned so go off chat <33

I used to think he hated me. Hated the world and cursed its creations for existing in his presence. I thought that he would go to bed praying for my downfall. For the downfall of humanity; of life, the natural order. 

The look in his eyes had said it all. Blank and cold, a vat of forgotten emotions that only became more distant as the days went on, voids that went on for a millennia. 

When we spared, his expressions changed slightly, and I liked that. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn't bring life into his eyes. I would often catch myself wanting to stare endlessly into the grayish expanse of them, wondering how bright the blue was, hidden behind that greyish hue. 

When we argued, his eyes pushed further. They pushed away from me, yet pushed for me to look deeper; to find the chest of suppressed emotions locked away in the far corners of his mind. 

When we sat together, he almost looked hollow. He was a husk of whoever his former self was. He would sip at his tea quietly and stare holes into the table, refusing to make conversation. I wouldn’t have been able to speak with him without blurting out something I would have regretted. 

I had always had a hundred questions to ask him. About his long dark hair, his clothing, the way he held himself.

His confidence had infuriated me. I wanted to know more about him and why he would utter words that placed him above the rest of us. Why he would isolate himself and refuse to interact with anyone. Why he would refuse to look us in the eye. Why he wouldn’t cooperate. 

I found myself wanting to know him. To be his friend. 

I started noticing the little things about him. The way his hair would sway softly when he walked ahead of me. The way he would grip his sleeves when he didn’t know what to say. The way he would blush at any complement. 

I would find myself staring at him. Admiring him, adoring the smallest of things that he would do. His eyes would light up at the animals we passed on the street, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

His happiness was contagious. 

I wanted more of it. I wanted him to be happy. 

I soon found myself hanging out with him. Taking him to his favorite restaurants, watching his favorite movies, visiting his favorite stores. He would always refuse to let me pay for him. 

I insisted of course. Watching the subtle changes in his stoic exterior was a more than fair trade. I had wanted to get a reaction out of him for years now, and I had just managed to wedge my way into his emotions.

I grew fond of him in a way that I never thought I would. I wanted to to see more of him. The way he cried, the way he laughed, the way he slept. I wanted to be with him forever.

I had no way of knowing if he felt the same way. I had made so much progress, and I wasn't going to ruin it.

Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. My fondness had mirrored that of a crush developed in elementary school.

I couldn't help but feel weak to him. To the way his eyes softened at the sight of me.

I wanted to bottle his hopes and fears into a mason jar. Keep them for myself to look at like a cocooning butterfly. I could feel myself marveling at each crumb of vulnerability I could get from him.

I still hated him. I really did. I hated when he would retreat back into his shell. I hated when his eyes became just as distant as before. I hated when he would close himself off to other people around us.

I couldn't help but fall.

It was hard to admit at first. But I loved him. It was a love that transcended boundaries and imperfections.

I loved when the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders and he would allow himself to live. I saw glimpses of a soul so beautifully broken, a beautiful stain-glass painting installed in the front and center of the most intricate cathedral.

He was a puzzle I couldn't solve. Layers upon layers to his complexities, each one more intricate than the last. I wanted to unravel him, ruin and tear apart is stoic front. I had never liked that part of him anyway.

So, I remained with him, subtly wedging myself further into his life. We shared countless moments together – laughter, tears, whispered secrets in the dead of night.

There was always a lingering part of him that remained distant. I couldn't pry it out of him no matter how hard I had tried. The layers around his heart had solidified with years of solitude.

I had begun to realize that his hate for the world was only that of a mirror. It was himself who he hated. He kept me at an arms-length.

I wanted to be the one he let in.

I wanted to hold his hands and kiss him.

I wanted him to see himself the way I saw him.

The change in him was subtle. Like a sunflower following the sun's path through the sky. He would smile. He would engage in conversation. He would stare right back at me.

We were laying next to each other in the dead of night when I had spoke my truth to him. I thought he was asleep, lying by my side with his head resting on the soft pillow to my right. He had his arm draped over my chest, his legs curled up loosely near my own.

I had looked over at him, an endearing smile appearing on my face at the pure sight of him. I couldn't keep it to myself, it had come out in the domesticity of the moment.

Those three endearing words falling from my lips in a soft whisper.

"I love you."

[finisnihil]

Heyo ATLA fan over here I keep seeing people praise the live action remake for being darker than the original and citing that the original cant be darker because it's animated and. I have thoughts on this.

The original ATLA couldn't get super gore type dark because of its RATING not its MEDIUM, it was being produced by a kid's channel. Animated media CAN be dark and NO i'm not talking about "adult cartoons". Look at shows like Blue Eye Samurai. Any DC animated movie. Animation is constantly associated with being childish just because its most often used in children's media and I mostly blame Disney for that because Disney is my arch-enemy.

Regardless, ATLA IS STILL DARK. IT'S STILL SUPER FUCKING DARK. The entire plot of the show and it’s themes center around really heavy topics like war, genocide, the rewriting of history, child abuse, oppression, deconstructing societal roles, the place of mercy in extreme circumstances, redemption, death and grief, trauma, and so so so much more ATLA was never subtle about its themes it just communicated them in a way that wasn’t overtly gore based and didn't have cussing.

Hell just look at Kyoshi she's literally documented as being ruthless in her persuit of peace, a foil to Aang and his ideals, and when you read her spin-off books you see why. Her childhood friend and crush who was raised under the false belief that he was the Avatar was fucking sacrificed in front of her face and later came back as a shambling husk of his former self that she had to put down like a rabid dog. She survived getting hit with lightning by a crime lord. She spent her early days as Avatar being hunted down by a man who raised her, who’s nickname was the Gravedigger because he buried his enemies alive after making them dig their own graves. That’s not even the full of it either. Kyoshi NEEDED to become ruthless to survive and you see that mindset in the Kyoshi Warriors and the Dai Li because those two groups are her legacy, she trained them, the darkness of her life bled over into that worldbuilding. When Aang asks her advice about Ozai she tells him to kill the bastard no questions asked because in her time hesitation on such things as mercy over justice is what got you killed.

I have so many thoughts about ATLA and it feels like many people miss the point. ATLA did not need to be given a “darker” medium to excel because it already excelled in its original one because live action is not adult media and animation is not child media and from what i’ve heard about the series it feels like the show forgot this is a story of children growing up in a hostile world that rests it’s fate on their shoulders.

The tone of the original show was childish despite it's incredibly dark themes and content because we were seeing the world through the eyes of Aang, Katara, and Sokka and later, Toph. Toph and Zuko's perspectives are way more jaded and darker because that's how they see the world and it's around when they become more involved we start seeing things with more weight than before. We don't need the show to be darker to be greater, it was great as it was because it was build on dark themes but did not let itself become drowned in them.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

this was supposed to be longer but i got tired (and realized maybe this wasn't such a good idea) so i kinda bs'd this to just finish it up. sorry it doesn't look all that good lol

transcript of my shitty handwriting + more rambling under cut

panel 1:

len: rin, just leave him—

rin: NO! i'm not going to give up now—

len: i know you're upset, but all you're doing is—

rin: HE'S NOT GONE YET!

panel 2:

rin: i know he still remembers, he has to...

panel 3:

rin: kaito-san, it's me; rin. you tried singing one of len and i's songs the other day. you got the melody right, remember? meiko-san's birthday is soon. remember her? a few weeks ago you said you needed to buy her a present. what were you going to get her? do you remember? tell me.

---

aight yea so this is what yall get for picking that ❄️📺❔🕚💾🪦 option on the poll (which btw was related to this drawing)

i'll just keep it simple: basically kaito gets dementia (or i guess the robot equivalent of it??). yeah.

not sure if this takes place on the cusp of v3 happening and just this specific kaito v1 module was unable to be updated for some reason? or if they're all still stuck in v2 and v3 hasn't happened yet/will not happen for a while... but i do know its def before v4 happened, so people like fukase and una don't exist yet

anyways though as you might expect, it pretty much sucks all around for everyone involved. not just the other 5 cryptonloids watching their close friend so previously full of life deteriorate into a husk of his former self, but for kaito himself too. he suddenly can't remember things like where he is or who the people around him are, and its incredibly frustrating b/c he knows he did have the memories at some point, its just as if they got misplaced... there's random bits of recollections that do come sometimes but as much as he tries to hold onto them they flicker and fade away just as quick as they appeared. left sinking back into a feeling of hopelessness that then becomes pure emptiness, as you can feel how you're losing yourself but there's quite literally nothing you can do

visually the static is used to represent a lot of that "foggy" feeling as things become more and more unclear, and given the robot/android nature it makes sense i guess? it's not really seen here but just as an actual machine might be when breaking down, his visual + audio processors begin to malfunction, causing a literal static overlay on his vision with faces/objects he can't recognize occasionally glitching out as well as constant white noise in his hearing and the sound of people talking to him becoming garbled and unintelligible. as time goes on he also loses his own ability to synthesize speech so aside from becoming withdrawn and quiet out of fear he'll say something that makes no sense, he then literally just becomes incapable of responding at all

again (as you might expect), the other cryptons aren't doing very well as this is happening. rin and len see kaito almost like a father, so watching one of your parental figures slowly march towards death is... not great. rin (as seen here) is still trying to hold on, because she swears kaito has had a few good days where he does recall more, where he seems much more like his old self, and maybe, just maybe if they wait a bit more he'll get better [tbh she's speedrunning the 7 stages of grief but goes between being stuck in some of the earlier stages its... not good]. len's grief on the other hand is manifesting itself in a way more similar to meiko's: he's not as distant as her, but he has already recognized that there's pretty much nothing that can be done and just wants to minimize kaito's suffering. len's just as shattered as rin though, but he's not showing it openly, figuring he has to accept it, as fighting against the grief like his sister won't help anything.

i just mentioned meiko so speaking of her: this is also probably extremely difficult on her, as, yknow, the counterpart v1 to kaito. she's withdrawn herself away from kaito, as she doesn't want to cause him pain in case he happens to recognize her, remember something about their relationship, but not comprehend what it means and just become confused/distressed. at least, that's what she says; it's more or so she can't bear to see him in this state, as he slowly loses more parts of himself, so she isolates herself in hopes the pain will be somewhat less when its all over, for having seen him less and not having false hopes of his recovery. that being said though she has definitely still been around him and tried to keep her composure... from kaito's pov, in moments of recollection, its disheartening seeing your wife close friend suddenly ignoring you, almost like she's mad or sad about something, but you can't remember why. did you forget to do the laundry? is it something unrelated? you want to ask her but she won't tell you; why? did she already and you just forgot? why...

miku's usual cheeriness has also crumbled, as even with rin's attempts, she can't find anything to be optimistic about in this scenario. she just feels this immense guilt, that she should've done something about this; she has influence as the most popular of the entire group, surely she could do something to make it all better. but aside from the arguments and indecisiveness regarding ethics and not wanting to do something without everyone's collective decision, she does know deep down its not her fault. maybe someone like one of the technicians or programmers would be more at fault, but she doesn't want to blindly throw accusations either, because surely they hadn't foreseen this happening either; nobody would intentionally throw in such a cruel fate for someone, it was an unfortunate system glitch that they were working to fix, but even if they did come up with a patch for it, it would be far too late for kaito at that point. she doesn't want to dwell too much on the logistics of it, miku just wants to be there for everyone else, because she knows how deep in despair the others are—she is too—and doesn't want their whole group to fall apart after such a devastating event.

as for luka: i would assume we're kind of actually seeing everything from her perspective, so as an audience lens she'd be more objective about presenting everything as it is without putting too much of her own bias/thoughts into it. but she's not completely unfeeling either. she tries interacting with kaito quite often, despite some of the others warning her about doing that too much. she tries talking to him about random things, not necessarily aiming to get him to remember anything in specific, though if any of his memories do surface in conversation she'll def address them and ask if he recalls anything more (and if not that's alright too). on some occasions she's been accused of being insensitive, but she doesn't want his death to be this huge tragedy, she would want him to be somewhat happy in his last moments. after everything that's happened, he deserves to leave in peace, in her opinion.

i've mentioned death a few times and there's a literal gravestone in the original emoji combo so safe to say, yeah, he dies. unfortunately the damage to his hardware is beyond repair from the critical/fatal errors and glitches, and it's decided that it'd be best to ultimately just deactivate him and delete all his files to not prolong any pain he might've been in for any longer. not exactly sure what would happen afterwards (aside from an obvious aftermath of the grief): if this is before/on the verge of v3 happening, there's the situation i thought about of them receiving a new replacement v3 kaito module, which has its own angst w/ it: its almost like seeing a fucking ghost, but it's not the same one they all remember, nor does it have all those memories. and this v3 kaito himself experiencing conflicted feelings as someone who was brought in to try and give back happiness to this group, only to seem to cause more despair for being so similar to someone long gone that he'll never truly replace. again though i'm not sure if i'd actually have that happen for the sake of everyone involved's sanity but it is something interesting to think about

i've been typing this for like 3 fcking hours now and i have no idea if this makes any goddamn sense lolol uhhh. like all my things it sounds way better in my head than when i actually put it on paper 😭 but congrats if you actually went thru the effort of reading all this. i might do more explanations like this of my things if anyone's interested, like of the other poll options, but we'll see

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Akiko Yosano (self-aware)

Self-Aware! Akiko Yosano x GN! Reader

Warning: Yandere. OOC. Spoilers for Yosano's past. Mentions of been torn apart. Mentions of medicine. Mentions of war. Mentions of Kunikida been broken. Yosano is angry. Yosano really doesn't like you at first. But she became better. English is my second language.

Becoming self-aware

🩺 Akiko Yosano was a calm and intelligent woman. Yes, she can be sadistic, she knew that, but she was a good person.

🩺 When Yosano became self-aware, she was furious. Yosano didn't care that she couldn't remember her parents. She was furious, that she remembered something from her past.

🩺 She wasn't real?! If she wasn't real, why she remembered The Great War?! Why she remembered treating people during The Great War?! Was The Great War real?! Was her work alongside Mori real?

🩺 Why she was forced to treat solders when she was eleven?

🩺 Yosano stormed away from the office. Tanizaki siblings find her only on the next day. Yosano almost destroyed a warehouse where she met Atsushi for the first time.

🩺 Tanizaki siblings managed to bring Yosano back to the office.

🩺 And then she felt the entity's presence.

_____________________________

Yosano was ready to destroy the entity. She doesn't care, who it was. She felt that this thing is responsible for the current madness. 

For the last few days, all ADA members were staying in the office. The situation was so bizarre. They don't want to be left alone.

Yosano can't see her friends' conditions. 

Kunikida looked like a husk of his former self. Carefree Dazai looked dangerous. Atsushi looked lost. Fukuzawa-sensei tried to stay strong, but Yosano can see, that present seems almost broken.

The entity was the reason they were suffering. And the entity was a coward. It never showed itself. If Yosano met it, she would tear it apart.

And then time resets.

And Yosano was once again in the warehouse, where Dazai proclaim he wants to make Atsushi a part of ADA. Both Dazai and Atsushi looked peaceful.

_____________________________

When they start feeling your presence

🩺 Be grateful that Yosano can't reach you.

🩺 Because if she could, she would eliminate you.

🩺 Yosano was sure, that you are a demiurge. An evil human-child. Were their lives entertaining for you that you reset time?

🩺 At the day when Black Lizards attack ADA office, Yosano was ruthless. Thankfully, she didn't kill anyone. Then she heard a voice.

"Yes, Queen, slay! [||||||||||||] cool! And she [||||||||||] style!"

🩺 Yosano felt, like she was cuddling with a bunch of kittens who adored her. Was it entity's feelings? That pure? Yosano was confused. If the entity was evil, why its feelings were that genuine?

🩺 Everyone could see Yosano's anger. Some were silent. But two people weren't.

🩺 Atsushi was first, who talked to Yosano. He told her about the entity been kind and sympathetic towards him.

🩺 Then there was Dazai. He, once again, was carefree. Dazai assures Yosano, that she will see the truth. That there is some hope.

🩺 Then, few days after her talk with Atsushi and Dazai, she saw, that Kunikida, again, looked as strong as he was before.

🩺 Kunikida looked delightful. He told everyone about entity, thanking him for showing them an importance of making plans.

🩺 Yosano's anger lessen. Atsushi, Dazai and Kunikida looked normal, not brainwashed. Maybe, there is something more to that strange entity?

🩺 It was a day when she took Atsushi for a shopping trip. The day, when they met Kyoka.

_____________________________________

"You want to know what death is? I'll tell you. Death is the loss of life. Despite everything doctors like me attempt... a patient's life can still fall through our fingers. You think death lies in the apex of science? Anyone with such little regard for life will die by my hand."

Yosano heard cheering.

"tell him" "you are right" "wish my dentist were more professional"

"Doctor Yosano, I think you are the good doctor. But, most importantly, you are a good person. ADA is so lucky to have you as their friend. And as their doctor."

Yosano feel, like someone touched her hair.

[In reality, you mindlessly pet manga's page with Yosano on it.]

____________________________

🩺 The same day, Yosano's anger disappeared. Because of Ranpo.

"I finished the investigation. It seems, that our entity is a simple human. Like we are. They don't have ability. There are no abilities in their world. And they have no idea, that we can hear them."

🩺 Yosano couldn't be angry at you anymore. The whole situation wasn't your fault. Yosano wishes, she can say that she is sorry for hating you. Yosano thought that if you met face to face, she will take you for a shopping trip.

🩺 And then Mori Ougai and Yukichi Fukuzawa met. The union was formed. All of them were trying to find a way out of this world. Find a way to you.

🩺 Yosano and Mori had a heated argument. They wanted to decide, who will be your doctor. No one wanted to back off.

🩺 Ivan Goncharov was the one who ended the argument. He offered Fyodor Dostoevsky to become your surgeon. Yosano and Mori formed a truce and agreed to look after your health together.

And then, one day, the purple moon shined above Yokohama.

When you installed BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan

🩺 Yosano take her job as your doctor seriously. Even in game.

🩺 All Yosano's cards now can heal. Even if all their skills are set on dealing damage.

"Wow, I didn't know that Yosano skill can heal 50% of team HP! Did devs buff her card? Now Very Hard Event stage won't be a problem"

"Yosano from Empress card is gorgeous"

"I need more Power up materials. Time to raise up Infirmary level."

🩺 When BSD gang gain access to the rest of your phone, Yosano take it upon herself to remind you about your health.

🩺 Now your phone remind you to take a rest from computer, to take a nap, drink water, go for a walk.

🩺 And if you need to take medication, your phone (Yosano) will remind you about it.

🩺 If you buy something online, Yosano will "accompany" you.

🩺 Yosano can't wait for the day when you meet. She and others will protect you. Because, for them, you were Their Guiding Light.

____________________________________

You were sick. It was a simple cold, but still, you felt awful.

Two notifications pop up. One is the reminder to take your pills. Second is from BSD Maoi game. You got a present from Yosano. Third of your notes from characters.

"[Y/N], I hope you are doing well. Remember, you are a good person. Please, take care of yourself. Akiko Yosano"

There was a cute stamp with Yosano attached to the note.

Your smile was weak. But, as with Kunikida and Atsushi before, you select Yosano's card and pet Yosano's chibi sprite.

"Thanks for your concern, Yosano. And for the kind words."

You were too tired to notice that sprite's eyes became warmer.

[light-lanterne]

my brother's watching evangelion and i can barely remember the plot, but here's an idea:

cw // self-dehumanisation, light mentions of violence - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - small offering, @boycattj, @byelerss, @catboy-cabin, @conanssummerchild, @cosmobrain00, @dark-quill, @fenixashes, @fluffyfangirl, @holyvirgilscriptures, @foodiewithdahoodie, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @ivytheenbyfae, @runninguplenorahills, @rotisseries, @saffirez, @willow-lark, @yearninginblue.

au where mike is a mech pilot who's long forgotten how to feel. who only knows how to kill and be part of the machine.

he obviously didn't start off this way, of course. as a child, he used to be vivacious and energetic; full of dreams and creative ideas he constantly shared with his friends. but then he grew older and the people around him pressured him into joining nerv and, because he isn't strong, fast, and no one would listen to the ideas of a complete newcomer, he somehow ended up piloting a mech unit, his determination and desire to prove he could be useful somehow rendering him an amazing pilot.

so he dedicated himself to it. volunteered to take on other pilots' shifts. spent far too much time in the machine for it to be healthy but it was the only way he could be helpful in humanity's struggle against the destructive angels. the only thing he was good at. little by little, he grew used to the many negative symptoms of being inside the biomechanic suit, and even came to think of them as normal. little by little, his brash and defiant personality mellowed out and soon, he became a husk of his former self, the only emotion he knows anymore being that of constant anxiety but not from having to get inside the mech.

from being away from it.

from having to rest in a home where nobody will talk to him anymore; from having to go to school and see the classmates who are now afraid of him; from being forced to spend time with "friends" who don't even address his mere presence unless it's to remind him of his place.

from having to walk amidst humans who only see him as a tool, just as easily breakable as he is replaceable.

and he is. replaceable, that is. he's a frail flesh being with a mind that could easily collapse if he's not careful, and whom the higher-ups would never hesitate to toss in the trash if they ever deemed him ineffective. whom the machine could simply go on without should he not be in perfect working order, ready to help it fulfil its duty.

that's why he must devote his entire self to his mech. that's why he mustn't think, talk or question orders and instead wait patiently for any and all indications. because he needs this. he needs to be good, follow the rules and fulfil his role; he needs to be a perfect engine part and work for the body he's become a part of as best as he can. he's eager, desperate to obey and serve this being for which he feels he was made for, and anything that distracts him from his only purpose is not worth any attention.

he's no longer human. he's only a cog.

and maybe he would question this conclusion he's come to if anyone told him he was wrong. if someone reminded him of his humanity and his life before nerv,,,

but everyone seems to agree with his assessment. in fact, everyone's been instructed to treat him as an object by nerv's higher ups, and everyone is happy to oblige and perpetuate mike's self-dehumanisation.

,,,everyone but the mech technician who's been tasked with helping mike and his mech recover after a bad encounter with an angel. who constantly pushes for conversations even if he never gets a reply, who learns to give him faux orders to get basic answers out of him, and who eventually figures out that the only time he can talk to mike (the only time mike's conditioned himself to allow himself to think) is when he's inside his mech.

the mech technician who is secretly an angel and whose plan to destroy nerv from within has taken a detour for he really wants to see what mike can do (for or against the angels) once he's taught it's okay for him to be human again.

- the end -

(in this au, brenner's the head of nerv, henry and willel were normal children who he turned into angels, and mike's the poor soul he's picked to see what happens if a human deludes themselves into seeing themselves exclusively as part of the mech (a process mike unwittingly began by himself and brenner merely picked up on and decided to exacerbate). oh, and of course, will's the angel who nearly took out mike~ )

[aita-blorbos]

(tw suicide)

AITA for pushing my brother too hard?

This requires quite a bit of context. I apologize.

I (???NB) come from a kingdom that was, long before I was born, at war with another. My kingdom was victorious; their opponents stood no chance. They were banished from our land using magic. After about a decade of my life spent there, it was not difficult for me to determine that this was a grave injustice. My village was full of the rot of society, and they had faced no consequences.

I eventually decided that I could no longer stand it, so I ran to the realm of the banished. I did not expect to survive; not only were my expectations exceeded, I was met with extraordinary kindness. This was where I met my adoptive family, the then-rulers of a smaller but much more beautiful kingdom.

As I grew older, I became aware of the hope that I may be the one to bridge the gaps between our kingdoms once more and reverse the banishment of my new family and their subjects. But this reversal would come at the price of seven lives. I decided to expedite the process by enlisting the help of my adoptive brother (???M).

With his help, I took my own life, and he wielded the magical power of my undying soul to cross to my original kingdom, where he was free to take the remaining six lives and pay the toll to set my people free.

However, our plan failed. My brother was a sentimental person. He was the type to search for good in anyone, even and especially when there was none to be found. He had repeatedly expressed hesitance in earlier stages of our plan.

When we carried it out, despite my brother displaying no signs of malice, upon seeing someone from my new home, the people of my former kingdom viciously attacked him. Despite my best efforts, he refused to fight back, and he and I both perished.

Due to powers beyond my control, I recently rose from the dead. I was horrified to find that our failure to execute our plan essentially shattered my family and my kingdom. While our royal doctors were able to revive my brother, he is now both literally and figuratively a husk of his former self.

I have no qualms about the six worthless lives we would have taken had my plan succeeded. I would do it again in my heartbeat. My only concern is for my brother. Part of me believes that his weakness cost my kingdom its freedom. Another part of me feels foolish in knowing that he never would have carried out my plan, but I can't help but feel that it was his responsibility as the then-heir to the throne. With this in mind, AITA for involving him?

[deletedaccd]

remade michaels origin story

this is god awful and an expanded/semi rewrote of the original

18.. 1847 I think, i remember, it was fall. The leaves were a dull orange, and crunched beneath my feet. I was 3.. or 4.

No, not 4 yet. 3.

I cannot remember, but I am fairly certain you can understand. Not many of you are as old as i am.

I was running around in circles, making noises with my mouth, my black hair shifting as I tilted it. I was carrying a smallish stick, sticky, dirty, the sticks that left dirt and scrapes on your hands. I was pretending to be this warrior, swinging the sword around and giggling. My playing was inturrupted by my mother calling me over, a gentle smile on her cracked lips. I came on over, hands on her leg as I waited for what she needed. 

I remember her putting me in her lap, running her bone-y fingers through my slightly knotted hair and telling me "Michael, dear.. Mommy loves you very much, but shes going to be leaving you soon" in her soft, cracked voice. Well, if were going to be real technical she said "Michael, dragă.. Mami te iubește foarte mult, dar te va părăsi în curând" but for your sakes, i'll translate everything..

She was 25 years old, but the disease she carried made her look rotten, old and most of all, tired. I remember loving her, but also fearing her. Her bones were so visible, as if a small nick to rhe skin and they would burst free. Her skin was cold as she spoke, holding me against her, a wheeze in her lungs

 "Little Michael, my baby boy" 

 "Itll be okay"

 "Mommy loves you"

 Those things were the type she said to me. It was her goodbyes. Now that I am older, a little more mature, a little more educated then most on the bullshit this world will spew at you, i know she was going to die. But once again, my little mind wasn't capable of comprehending death.

I hated that she called me that. I never felt like her baby boy, even though not many months had passed since I was. With her being so sick, I had to try and take care of her, and myself. My father was hardly around. Sleeping around or passed out in the woods near dead with alcohol all over him. My mother was in denial. Believing that I was her baby son, that she wasn't sick, and that her husband woukd return with lots of money and a handful of the most.. gutwrenchingly beautiful flowers. I never spoke up about it though. I believe that delusion as what kept her alive so long.

After a bit she never left bed. I would bring her food in my small hands and sit between her ankles as she stared at it, not budging to take a bite. Ill admit, what she never ate, I would wait a bit and then eat it myself. 

As a child, the concept of misfortune eluded my comprehension. The world seemed like an inherently benevolent place, where happiness and contentment were the default states of being. Misfortune, with its attendant pain and sorrow, seemed like an aberration, a temporary blip on the otherwise smooth trajectory of life. I couldn't fathom why anyone would experience such adversity, and I naively believed that if I simply wished hard enough, all misfortune would vanish into thin air.

the surprise I felt when she was pronounced dead a few weeks after, at the most, was rather eyeopening. Again, this was 1800s romania. We were poor. No food, no water, no heating, broken windows, you get the memo. She was found when the neighbors dog wouldnt leave our door,.scratching and barking at it. The thing was so desperate to get in. Poor bastard was probably hungry. Though if it came in I probably would have killed and ate the dog myself. Then neither of us would be hungry anymore.

The neighbor had come in, and let out the most pathetic sob. My mother was decomposing on the floor, chest caved in, stiff, flies circling her. She was a husk of her former self, more literal then not. I was found huddled at the fridge looking for the last little bit of food, near statvation. At that point I had become desperate, and clung to my neighbor. Fucking begging. 

Begging to be saved. Fed. Cleaned. Safe.

I was brought to St. Jacobs Orphanage a few days later. I was 4 years old. I remember my uniform. Black, long pant legs, long sleeves. white buttonup underneath, and a gold cross necklace. I also remember the building. It reeked of rotten eggs (at least the water did). Every wall was stained, with scripture carved into them and crosses hanging from every pitiful angle. It was a shitty mix. Traumatized Romanian children being fed catholic bullshit by English priests, the same English priests that try to constantly get into those same kids pants.

The children were rabbits. The men were farmers, full barrel loaded, and the nuns were the women who turned the other cheek, ignoring what happened. I actually liked a few of them. Sister Agnew was a dutch nun, devoted to both religion and a touch of science, though that was a secret. She had a certain thought towards God. Why would such a high and mighty diety leave his children like this? She didnt think it was a test. Then there was Sister Mary. Mary was a kindhearted woman. Mary loved everyone equally. She showed no hatred for these non-english children, unlike the majority of racist Catholics.

I was apparently a sinful boy, which I can understand. I was bitter, (I am still bitter.) I never cut my hair, tried to report the behavior, hell I even bite the one a few times. I remember him fairly well. Father Smith. Balding brunette, A large man, with a mass of both fat and muscle, though at times it was hard to tell which one dominates the other. I think what pissed them off was my defiance. 

Up utill the age of 13, i was cleansed. Prayer mumbled around superiors erect cocks, words (more instruction, per say, "Worship, Praise, Serve, God is my Salvation') carved into my back, beated black and blue,.memorizig bible scripturr till my hands were so unbearably sore and then some and my head throbbed. At 13, the orphanage was, thankfully, burnt to the fucking ground as well as many of the people within. I had been in the deep confines in the orphanage. I was wandering and more or less avoiding people. I smelt the strong scent of smoke, so I followed my nose. In the basement was the glowing orange, mesmerzing me in a way I hadnt felt before. Glowing heat dancing so delicatly yet so intensely, holy cleansing yet the birthplace of evil. After a moment, the realization stung. I could die if I didnt leave.

I wasnt sure if that was so bad though. Hell must not be that bad. I wasnt so sure I wanted to survive the fire. After all, what would happen after?

But I ran. I warned no one. Running as fast as my legs out take me, my hands full of splinters from the wooden fence I climbed, heart pounding like a drum in my chest, fast as my legs would take me, cutting my skin and clothes from branches till the smoke was but a distant cloud.

I had no shelter,.food or water. I began a career in hunting animals, selling the furs, eating the meat. I repeated this with any animal I could. I used whatever weapon I could find, or if I was lucky, any weapon I could steal. It wasnt the best paying, but enough to make it through. This was the 1800s, they let me into bars. I was 15 now, sitting on the stool, drinking from a small glass, my dull eyes staring into surrounding people. I looked ro my side to see a man, brawny, with a perfect smile, showing off muscles and grinning a shiteating grin. He looked right at me, narrowing his amber eyes "Well well little man, impressed?" he flexed, smirking. I simply glared, sipping my drink. I had saved up money all the way till.. I would say 18, no. No it was 19, (but by the time I arrived to my new country I was 20). I got new clothes, fixed my hair, and sneaked onto a ship to london. Oh how beautiful it was to me.. The smoke, the buildings, the carriages, the lanterns.. Though the people confused me. But I tend to be confused by people normally. I never understood how people were so dependent on one another, so carefree and bright, with their chipper accents.

'G 'mornin Eve'

'Lovely day for a nice drink, yes? "

'Bloody hell, cut myself again'

And so on and so on

The way they speak still amuses me. That and the french. Weird.

I had learned enough english to survive and socialize for purposes to live. 

Somehow, I managed to get a job. A real one. It was a small english tavern called the kings head

 I was the bartender.

Being a bartender is an amazing thing really. You give drinks to depressed people with rather grand or insignifficant problems. And when they tell you them. You can say whatever the hell you want. Because your serving the drinks that they drown their problems away with. I never got one-on-one with my customers. I never treated them with care. I taught them, that whining to me wasn't gonna do anything. Maybe I did help in that way. I worked there for 3 years. Everyday, all day.

I met some rather strange people. Worn out people with dirty clothes, overly happy people with dry eyes, absolute creeps, you understand.

It happened when I was 23. 

I remember it being foggy that night. A general thick dullness in the air that tried to mock my cigarette. 

(The cigarette was new. From frace only a handful of years before I was born.)

My gaze was hard to anyone who walked by, wary. I was just finishing up my last smoke for the night. I was going to close up the bar and grab something to eat. Now I didnt have a house. I had a carriage though (no horses) , propped up against a concrete ledge. I kept only food and some clothes inside. The doors slid and locked, and so it was good enough for me. I flick the ash from my cigarette when I hear a moaning. 

A groan, a deep growl that made me grow anxious. I followed the sounds. I don't know why. I do know that my mind was wishy-washy with going or not. Upon reaching the man, I got a good look. 

Hunched over, bones audibly crunching, teth extending into sharp dagger like bones. 

I knew for sure, I didn't want to stay to see what that thing was going to become. I ran as fast as I could, my breath ragged with burning lungs, my heart pounding wildly in my chest from fear. I would keep glancing to see if it was following. I looked 4 times. Saw nothing the first 3 times, and when I looked behind me the last time...

Nothing.

I stopped running, panting. When I heard the deep growl in my ear. I jerked to the side to see. A large creature, with even larger wings, and the animalistic look (once again, quite literally) 

It struck my face, tearing into my face, my cheel wide open and the inside of my mouth visible. I stumbled, crawling, but managing to get back up.

It had many features you would spot on a bat. But I didn't really care at the time. I ran again, ducking into an alleyway to hide. It followed, slashing at me with its razor sharp claws on the back of my legs and ankles. I crawled, the adrenalne numbing my pain, when I felt it grip my side, rolling me onto my back. I squirmed as it crawled ontop,

sinking its teeth into my flesh. Blood seeped through, staining the whte shirt I owned. 

I remember the crunching, the squishing and squealching (its a word now), the cracking, snapping and gulping. This thing was eating me, alive. I passed out. or maybe died. Even now, I don't know.

I woke up though.

I woke up in a rather dirty location. My hair was a mess, and I felt hungry. 

Fuck I hate feeling hungry, that gnawing emptiness in the pit of your stomach, that constant reminder of your body's basic need, is a feeling I loathe. the rumbling and the lightheadedness. It steals your focus, making it impossible to concentrate on anything but the next meal. It saps your energy, leaving you drained and listless. It fuels a sense of desperation, a primal urge to consume anything and everything in sight. Hunger is an insidious enemy, constantly whispering doubts about your ability to provide for yourself, reminding you of your vulnerability. It's a stark reminder of the precariousness of life, a constant threat looming on the horizon, waiting to pounce and take control. I dislike hunger not just for its physical discomfort, but for the way it permeates my thoughts, my emotions, and my ability to function.  Now, gashes and bruises llitered my body. My shirt was still stained though. I made my sore body stand, shuffling to the carriage. I can't believe myself.

I took weeks to figure out what the fuck I was. (I didnt get an official species name until the 1940s) I had a wakeup call a few days in. When I first transformed. It isnt romantic. Its gruesome. Your bones break and reform, your muscle tears and your skin burns as it stretches. My wings sliced through my arms tissue and matter like it was paper. The overwhelming part came after. My senses were on overdrive. I could hear everythintpg, sense the vibrations, smell anything. I had an insatiable hunger. Ive always had an insatiable hunger though, havent I?

I was shuffling around the streets when the light from the bookshop made my eyes squint. I entered. Inside was a rather plump man, with soft features, glasses and stubble. His hair was a lovely auburn, face littered with charming freckles.  He turned to me

 "Ah, welcome, monsieur!" he said in a french accent with pure excitment in his voice. He came over, smiling. "What are you looking for?" I didnt read often so he shrugged. "I don't really read"

 "But.. your in a bookshop?" the man said, tilting his head. I nodded, fideting from a mix of emotions. "Do you know how to read?" the man asked, looking at me with a bit of a softer gaze. Yes, of course I could. Not to well, but read I could. However, I had a plan forming in my mind. I shook my head no. "Well, my name is Arthur, I could teach you" he offered. I accepted.

The next few weeks he was teaching me to read, Id go to the bookshop, listen to his words, pretend to struggle, and another day came. Each day he become more caring and trusting of me, and each day I geew hungrier. But not yet. I wanted this one to last.. But, also, I didnt want it to end yet. He interested me in a way no man had before. One night I was over once again for more lessons, Arthur was drinking wine, offering me a glass. I shook my head no as I stared at the dark liquid that rested in the glass. 

 "Michael" Arthur started "I must confess.. I feel a way for you.. That I do not feel for many men.." He said in a soft tone, glancing away. "I am interested.. in you..." he admitted.

 Admitting your a homosexual in those times, dangerous.

 "..I feel a certain way too" I replied, feeling the teeth sharpen in my gums.

----

I feasted for many years. But people grew suspicious. So many bodies, a man who looks as if he hasn't aged. Every person who entered the kings head wound up dead. 

The church rounded up the people. They had fire, weapons, and were all so loud. I remember the transformation then. I also know. I killed no one that night. The church rounded up the men, the women, even the children.

They drove me into the damp forest. I snarled at them, growling, baring teeth and claws, spreading wings and sending signals. I would return and kill them too. God knows I wasnt done.

I had torn through my clothes in the transformation. I was now alone, nude, freezing in the damp forest. I was beginning to rethink everything. At the time, I didn't even know what could kill me. I was such a coward to hide in those woods.

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

The time begins to pass. I left the 1800s far behind. Now, heres the shit I was waiting for. 

Gambling, Casinos, Mobs, Bars, Drugs.

The flashing lights, the loud music. I never went in. But the people were so dizzy and miserable when they came out that didn't even notice me. It was easy food. It was like eating a meal cooked with a lot of horrid liquor. The man that changed it all was Dante Audhild. This man was massive. Tall, rich, strong. I tried to hide my pointed ears beneath my hair, and stumbled over. I only wore what I could get off my victims, so old torn suits and jackets. I planned to quickly bite into his neck and drag him into an alleyway. I quckly sank my teeth into him, but the taste on my togye caused me to recoil, hacking and gagging.

He had been prepared for me. He came here for me.

He told me he owned the casino. I could join him, serve his family as long as my immortal life lasts, or I would die. He was going to kill me.

Well, so I thought.

I chose the latter. I was not going to become his never dying slave. I was not, nor never, going to willingly become a mans servant. But. i was forced to anyways.

He drove me inside the building.

"Elizabeta. A new one" he said, shoving me forward, long black hair falling over my face. "Ah.. Come here dear" she gently grabbed my hand, walking me to a large room, with a cold white floor and a large tub. Put inside, she filled it with warm water, drenching me in it.

"Whats your name dear?"

She was quite tall, id guess around 7 footx with a bkue tint to her cleae skin and long wavy black hair that went down to her calves, currently put up.

 "..Michael" I muttered beneath flesh-tainted breath. "Michael, thats a beautiful name." her fingers grazed my pointed ears, examining my physical state. "You have been through a lot, Michael dear" she mumbled, drenching more warm water on my pale skin. I was given a new suit afterwards. A black and purple arsitocat jacket, and a little silver bat necklace that was wrapped to the inside of my collar. This bat, prevents me from transforming into a werebat without Master's permission.

I met Hellsing not too long after.  I was on a mission.In the dead of winter, when December's icy grip tightens, the nights become a symphony of silence. The air hangs heavy with a crystalline chill, numbing the senses and silencing all but the faintest whispers. Darkness descends like a suffocating blanket, enveloping the world in an impenetrable cloak. Stars twinkle like distant embers, casting a faint glow upon the frozen landscape. Snow-laden trees stand as silent sentinels, their branches etched against the starlit sky.

The wind howls like a banshee, carrying with it the mournful echoes of a forgotten winter's tale. Houses huddle together for warmth, their windows glowing with the promise of sanctuary from the unforgiving cold. I had been told to exterminate anything suspected supernatural. My skin was freezing, hands shaking as I walked through these woods, snow crunching beneath my feet, hugging myself to keep warmth.

The moonlight illuminated the night, it was very pretty. I looked down, before sitting by a tree, watching the thin clouds fall infront of the moon and drift pass. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose.

 "Beautiful night, isnt it?"

 I snapped my gaze to the deep voice, belonging to a man dressed head to toe in crimson and black attire, a smirk on his soft looking lips, eyes hidden behind reflective orange glasses. I sneered a bit, narrowing my eyes and standing, looking up at him.

Again godawful im sorry