#the distortion tricks your mind into believing the world is not what it is while VAL can actually rewrite reality

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter vi

⟶ Chapter summary | Just when you had thought that you could not be more surprised, your father decides to drop you a new reality that you would have to deal with and learn, distorting everything you had believed about your life before living in the palace with the King

⟶Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au ⟶ Word count | 6,9k words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; still nothing much, but this chapter may contain/mention manipulation and deceit, curses, dark magic, weapons, discussions about war, act of drinking/alcohol mentioned ⟶ Story Masterlist | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

chapter vi. the castle by the sea

After dropping such an outlandish response to your gullible question, King Aneas sits you down in front of his desk to give you a chance to process everything. Once you are settled, he goes around his desk to pour you a drink while he slowly begins to tell you a little bit more about this place.

“Imagine yourself looking into a mirror and seeing another world that exists on the other side which appears with your reflection. It looks similar to the world where you are standing in, but it is not quite the same. You might say that this realm and the world you came from exist the same way. The Land Far Far Away is not entirely different to the human realm, except most everyone here was born with mana or aura flowing within them. Magic exists here everywhere you go, and there are also beings that you would never see walking amongst common humans in the other world. Smotia is like a barrier separating the two realms, and it can also act like a magic door which connects both realms under specific conditions. That was one of the reasons why I chose to claim the territory before anyone else could and expanded our empire from here to the land of Smotia.” 

Mana? Aura? A place filled with magic? 

Once again, what you are hearing from your father sounds absurd, and yet, you still believe him. “Everyone? Even you, and all the people here in the castle? Is that how you managed to travel so quickly to get here? With magic?”

A grim smile appears of his face when King Aneas answers you, “Yes, Princess. There is mana here all around us, and within the people you saw here in the castle. There is mana flowing within me, just as much as you have it within you since the day you were born.” 

There is magic…inside me?

Everything seems unreal, and still so many questions continue to come through you. But you believe every word he says, as deep down you know that there is no way your father, would ever try to trick or deceive you. Not about something like this. 

As he sees you falling silent, His Majesty hands you a glass filled with a finger deep amber-coloured drink, something that you are most grateful for. Because after everything that you had been put through, and after listening to all the things that he had just said to you, you are obviously going to need one. The drink tastes unlike anything you have had before, but it does soothe your body and mind a little, allowing you to regain your focus again as he continues, “You were still so little when you were taken away from home, so you might not remember much about the life you had in this palace. I also understand that it might take a while for you to get used to things here, especially when there is no magic exist where The Citadel and the Seacrest Manor are located.” 

You take a few more sips from your drink to stop your head from spinning. You may have recovered quite well from the shock so far, but it doesn’t really mean it would make it easy for you take everything in so quickly. But then something that His Majesty mentioned earlier clicks as your mind wanders back to the forest, when you recall all the peculiarities that the Elcester Forest possesses. 

“You said earlier about our homeland acting as a magic door. Does it have anything to do with Elcester Forest? Is that where these two places meet each other?” 

King Aneas hums approvingly. He even seems quite pleased with your question, but you have no idea why until he explains, “You are correct. The forest acts like a tunnel that opens up to this realm on the specific nights when the flow of mana in the air are the strongest.” 

“Wouldn’t the townsfolk be able to go through the forest and find this place?” you question him, though you quickly recall that there has yet any word of the common people ever reaching the other end of the Elcester Forest, not even the hunters who have free rein of the forest during hunting seasons. 

“Have you heard any of them succeeding so far?” King Aneas questions you, as if he can read your thoughts. “There is a powerful magic that has been set in the forest that prevents the common people from going too far into the forest or to find and go across the borders between the two realms. For common folks, the magic will act as an illusion to confuse them and make them go in circles until they find their way back home to the towns in Smotia. For folks like us, with the right spells casted on the right time, a portal will open on the invisible walls protecting the realm to allow us to pass.” 

“Last night,” —you start, recalling the events which happened during your journey—the rising thick white mist, the peculiar gloom that kept getting intense as you got deeper into the forest, the sightings of the blue flames, and the wall of blue inferno that was so ominous in its presence—and you begin questioning, “Was that the reason why you chose last night, the eve of Lemmus Rising, to send me away from The Citadel? Had it been one of those special nights that you were talking about?” 

Crossing his hands on the desk before him, King Aneas leans forward as he explains, “Lemmus Rising is a phenomenon created by the magic protecting the forest, when the magic grows the strongest that it often manifests into small patterns of mana appearing in various places within the dark forest like guide lights to show you where the portals would be able to appear. Normally, regular humans won’t be able to see them with their bare eyes, yet some of the elders who had lived in Smotia for a long time have caught sights of them and may have mistaken them as the souls of the dead.” 

You remember how you felt seeing the small flames appearing between the thickets, and try to imagine what would have gone through the people’s minds as they saw those lights. “You let them believe it to be true.” 

Laughing gently, your father merely shrugs. “It was the easiest way to hide the truth from the common folks,” he says, not even showing any drop of remorse from deceiving his own people, while you can only shake your head and silently wonder how he can be so lenient about this matter.  

“This is all so confusing.” 

King Aneas nods his head understandingly. “Take your time. You will get used to everything here once you’ve settled down. It’ll be too soon for you to understand everything. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed and you haven’t even had time to rest,” he says as he leans back in his seat, looking as if he is ready to end the conversation for now. “You have Lady Abigail to keep you company, and Lord Gordan to show you the way around the castle. I have also instructed Lord Gordan to teach you all about the castle and this part of the region to help you understand how everything here works, so he may be able to answer some of your questions when I’m not around to help you. You will also be assigned with a new tutor, one who will guide you to learn more about magic and to use the mana you have inside you.” 

Shaking your head, you can only exhale a deep sigh. He was right, after all. You are starting to feel overwhelmed with all of this. “You know that I still have so many questions to ask you.” 

“I’m sure you do, and you shall have all the answers you need,” King Aneas says with a soft chuckle. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to answer them all today as I cannot stay. I have matters to attend to and preparations to deal with, but I shall return later before supper. The lady maids would have sent all of your belongings to your bedchamber by now so you will be able to settle in soon. In the meantime, Lord Gordan will show you the way to your bedchamber where you can freshen up and perhaps take a short nap until breakfast is ready for you. You must have found it hard to rest in the carriage all night long.” 

Nothing else is shared between you and your father until Lord Gordan arrives at the study room under His Majesty’s immediate summon to show you to your bedchamber as your father has instructed him to. This time, there are no guards following you close behind as Lord Gordan guides the way, which lessens all the tension you may be feeling for having extra eyes shadowing your movements. 

Walking down the hallway with large windows overlooking the palace’s grounds, you cannot stop comparing this place to The Citadel. Much like how King Aneas had explained it to you earlier, this castle does remind you a lot to your previous home, with minor details separating the two of them from one another. The inner courtyard appears almost twice the size of the one you would normally see back home, with a few more towers standing all around the castle. There is even one which appears larger than any that you have seen before, standing so grand that you cannot help but pay attention to it as you walk by. 

You curiously point this out to Lord Gordan as he starts explaining a bit about the castle, and he gladly answers for you, “The South Tower does appear quite grand when it is viewed from this distance. On the top floor, you will find the gallery which would allow you to get the perfect view of the entire estate and the surrounding area around the palace, including the ocean and the cliffs which stand across the coastline. You might also get a glimpse of the bluffs and the part of the Elcester Forest that stretches out all the way here from the capital city of Smotia. His Majesty may handle most of his work at The Citadel, but he does spend quite a lot of his time here in the home castle, either in his study room or the South Tower gallery to work when he is not resting in his bedchamber whenever he returns home.”

For some reason, you feel like you are being drawn to the South Tower that you cannot look away from it. Knowing that the King spends a lot of time up there also draws your curiosity that you keep focusing on it until you can no longer see it after walking past a few more windows. Once the tower is out of sight, you turn your gaze towards the end of the courtyard, where you can see a long brick wall with an iron gate at its center, which is surrounded by shrubberies and flowers blooming in various colours, reminding you of the gate which opens up towards the gardens you have back home at The Citadel. Once again, it draws your curiosity and immediately question this to Lord Gordan. 

“That is correct, Your Highness. The gate leads to the palace’s gardens. I’m sure you would love to visit the place as His Majesty himself takes good care of it both with his hands and his magic.” 

Hearing how the garden here may contain your father’s magic, you wonder if you can take a closer look and see if it is truly anything different to the gardens at The Citadel. “Will I be able to explore around?” 

“Why, certainly, Your Highness. You are most welcome to do so anytime you’d like. This place is your home, after all. If you ever need any guide to show you around, you can always ring for me or any of the lady maids which have been assigned to you,” Lord Gordan says just as you finally arrive at your bedchamber. He opens the door for you and ushers you in, and you are immediately met with an astonishing view of a brighter and more spacious bedchamber compared to the one you had previously, with large windows which give you the perfect view of the world outside the palace’s walls instead of a confined view of the palace’s premises. “You may take your time to rest. Breakfast will be set up for you in the dining room. I shall call a servant to come and fetch you once the meal is ready.” 

Lord Gordan excuses himself right after, giving you some privacy and a chance to have some peaceful time after a long night. As the door is closed behind him, you turn to find that your belongings have indeed been set up in the room. It makes you wonder how they had been able to send your luggage here so quickly and you silently question if the magic that your father had spoken about has anything to do with it. 

Even your weapons—the bow and arrows and your short sword which you had brought with you from home—are here, placed orderly on the side of the room together with your luggages. 

Once you are completely alone, however, the unsettling feeling of being in a strange place full of wonders return to you. It makes you feel restless, while at the same time, you also feel curious. Excitement overcomes you when you think about the many wonders that you might see in this new world you have found yourself in. 

Just as you are beginning to think about the promising future, you are suddenly drawn towards the windows, where you can get a clear view of the coastline in the distant. You take a seat on the settee that has been set up on the windowsill to have a good look at the spectacle before you, the sun now shining brightly enough to allow you to take in every little detail you see. 

Gazing out towards the cliffs like this only makes you think about your dreams again. Some parts of the dream may have been starting to fade, yet a few small things are still clear in your memory. The way you felt when the mysterious man first appeared before you, the flutters building up in your chest and the soft tingles that came rushing through your skin when he touched you with his barely-there caress, and then there was his deep voice, and his enthralling words when he said,

“I’ve been searching for you for a very long time.”

How was it possible for a dream to feel so real? 

You have been wondering about this ever since the dream first came to you in your sleep. You can even feel it now, when your necklace seems to grow warmer, and it almost seems like it is vibrating subtly against your skin the more you are thinking about him. Even your skin tingles with the ghost of his touches, as if he wasn’t just a vivid image that your subconscious had created to fill your dream.

Reaching up to the window, you brush the tips of your fingers against the glass, wishing that you can somehow find a way to reach the cliffs in your dreams that now seem within arms reach, and silently wonder if it would be wrong for you to have hopes for your dreams would come true. 

Time seemed to pass by so quickly as you let your mind wander off to the man in your dreams and for getting lost in the beautiful view of the coastline. You managed to doze off for a moment while basking in the warmth coming from the sunlight, but as you woke up, feeling sore from the odd position you found yourself in but somehow refreshed from the quick nap, there was still no sign of a servant or a maid who was sent to fetch you for breakfast.

You even took a quick cold shower as you waited, and even took your time dressing up, but still nobody came knocking at your door after the long wait.  

It didn’t take long for you to feel bored, and you finally gave in to your curiosity. Your desire to see more of the castle instead of staying idle in your bedchamber took over and you decided to leave the bedchamber and do some exploring of your own. Thinking that this castle would have been built similarly to The Citadel, you were confident that you would be able to find the dining room on your own. 

But you found out quite soon enough just how wrong you were. 

You have no idea how much time has passed, but know for sure that you have gone quite far from your bedchamber, yet you still have yet to find the royal dining room where the breakfast is supposed to be prepared for you. Instead, you find yourself getting lost in long hallways, with doors that are locked and windows that do nothing much to show you where to go. 

Just when you are about to give up, you reach up to touch the pendant hanging on your necklace to find warmth and calmness from it. Suddenly, it feels like you are being guided, your intuition telling you where to go and you simply give in to the voice in your head, allowing it to guide you until you find yourself in an indoor atrium with glass ceiling above your head which allows the sunlight to come through. And right at the opposite side of the room, appears to you the doors opening up towards the royal dining room that you have been searching for.  

Is this some sort of magic, much like what His Majesty talked about earlier, or was it my own intuition which led me here? 

You can only wonder silently about this as you make your way to enter the the dining room, where you find that breakfast has been served. You silently apologise out of guilt for knowing that there might be a confused servant out there who may have been sent for you and found your chamber empty, due to your impatience, and promise yourself to reason with the butler or the King’s aide later once you see him again. 

True to his words, His Majesty is nowhere to be found. And so does Nanny Abigail, who is no doubt still resting in her quarter, and to your surprise, neither is Lord Gordan. So you simply enjoy breakfast alone, with a couple of servants—who had rushed in the moment you walked into the dining room as if they had heard you coming—attending to you with plates of fresh fruits, pastries, and endless refills of your warm drink. 

After breakfast is done, you refuse the help from the servants to help guide you back to your bedchamber, insisting to go on your own. Yet, instead of retreating immediately to your bedroom and wait for Lord Gordan to fetch you for your trip around the castle, you decide to make a detour, continuing what you had started earlier to do a little more exploring around the castle by yourself. 

From the dining room, you try to find your way towards the garden. Ever since the moment you laid eyes on the open courtyard and the iron gate that was said to open up the way towards the gardens, you have felt the urge to be there, if only to see if you can find any traces of your mother’s touch. But instead of finding your way to the courtyard in mind, you simply find yourself lost yet again, as you keep finding long hallways that remind you quite a bit to a maze. 

The large windows facing the outer side of the palace are the only ones that help you feel less disoriented, but still cannot do much to help guide your way through the labyrinth. Yet, much like what you did before, you simply follow your intuition and let it guide you, until you find some more interesting rooms to see and explore—various atriums and foyers leading towards different areas in the castle that only seem to be more intriguing mazes and labyrinths where you could get lost in without a guide showing you the way—and more long hallways filled with rows and rows of doors which quickly draw your curiosity.  

Doors with various sizes, intriguing in the way they are standing with various embellishments on each of their surfaces. You try to open some of them, always finding them locked and secured with not a single budge no matter how hard you try. It makes you even more curious to know what they are, and where they would lead to, wondering why such a castle would have so many closed doors and so many rooms placed not too far away from each other when it doesn’t seem like there are that many people living in these quarters, as you have yet to come across any other palace staff other than the ones you met in the dining area. 

You continue to explore away from the massive rooms and the heavy locked doors, until you reach a foyer leading towards a stairway winding up a connecting tower. From down below, the stairway seems intimidating. You cannot see what is up there but faint shades of sunlight surrounded by darkness. 

But the not knowing does nothing to deter you. So up you go with your curiosity leading your way, until you finally reach the top, where the landing opens up to a spacious gallery with four sided walls surrounding its center hall. At the heart of the gallery appears a seating lounge adorned with a few loveseats placed in a circular angle, some glass drawers are placed against the walls, and a reading nook situated on one of its corners. On the two walls opposite to each other stand large windows, going so far from the floor and up near the ceiling. You walk up to the side which is facing towards the South. From the sight you see outside, you come to realise that you have arrived in the South Tower, the place that Lord Gordan spoke of as the place where the King would reside to whenever he needs time to work alone.

Pushing the thoughts of your father side, you look out the window, finding the view itself magnificent from up here. From where you are standing, you have a clear view of the side of the castle which was not visible at your first arrival. It appears to you that not only had the castle been built on top of the cliff and right above the sea as you assumed it to be, the castle itself seems to stand on the very edge of the precipice. From here, you can see the outer walls which seem to blend into the rocky cliff walls below, which goes almost a thousand feet down until there is nothing but the deep water and rough waves waiting for you. 

And the height itself seems so unbelievable that it takes your breath away. 

You can tell from one look that if you should ever drop from this window, nothing would be able to stop your fall except for those welcoming waves crashing against the rocks below. 

The thought of it alone gives you a cold chill, yet you remain there for a moment, marvelling at the view as you catch the sunlight reflecting on the surface of the ocean and finding the waves on the far side of the ocean much more calming than the closer ones. You enjoy the sight until you have enough and then step away, leaving the intimidating view below as you approach the windows on the opposite side of the room which seem to be looking out towards the other side of the tower. 

Looking out from this side of the room, a different view is presented to you. A complete contrast to the intimidating sight that came together with the steady sounds of waves racing below, of the cliff wall and the rough sea, yet just as magnificent still. As far as you can see, you get a clear sight of a sea of green tree tops with some steep hills and occasional sight of deep rifts where the hills and valleys are formed, accompanied by the glowing silver of the river flowing through the forest in the distant. 

The view you are seeing feels so calming that you lose yourself in it for a moment, as you bask in its beauty and the warm sunlight that comes flooding into the gallery enveloping you. 

Just as you are deeply mesmerised by the view, you feel a sudden pull trying to draw you away from the windows. Turning, your eyes fall on the wall at the other side of the atrium which had not caught your attention earlier. 

On the wall beyond you stand a pair of golden framed doors, both of them seem to be shining brightly in the room despite no lights coming out of them. One door appears to be coloured in the shade of radiant blue, while the other appears more subtle, but with more engravings appearing on its surface which are painted in glimmering gold. There is something about those doors that seems to be pulling you towards them. Before you realise it, you have made your way to them, with your hand reaching out to touch and feel them. Much to your dismay, you quickly find that both of them are locked, just like all the other doors you saw during your previous exploring. 

But there seems to be something different about these doors. 

Not only for the embellishments that you are seeing on them which make them appear so grand, but also for the way they seem to be calling you, drawing your attention and your curiosity that it makes it hard for you to look away or step away from them. It almost seems like you can hear these doors humming and whispering to you, drawing you even closer to touch them, to keep trying to open them. 

And yet, you are able to refrain yourself from reaching out to them again. Not sure of what kind of magic that the doors may posses, with your lack of knowledge about magic and spells and all the other wondrous things His Majesty mentioned during your short talk earlier, you begin to fear that they might harm you if you should continue investigating them closely. So you fight against the pull that the doors are emitting and turn away, quickly making your way to leave the gallery so you can continue with your journey through the castle before people would start searching for you.

Alas, the odd occurrence doesn’t stop there. As if the doors truly have minds of their own, just as you are leaving the gallery, the humming you can hear coming out of them seems to grow louder. You quicken your pace, afraid of what the humming might entail should you stay longer to find out what they are, only to faintly hear enchanting voices calling your name as you walk down the stairs to return to the lower ground of the castle. 

Once you have reached far enough from the gallery and the mysterious doors, the voices fade and all the tension that you have been feeling since the first time you heard them is lifted. Resting at the bottom of the stairs, you wonder what they were, or if they would serve any threat to you, knowing that your father would spend a lot of time on that same gallery above where the doors would be accompanying him.

Not one to get lost in your own musings, you use the time to explore a bit further before returning to your quarter. From the tower, it is easy to find your way back to the heart of the castle. Except that you make a different turn this time, hoping to find something new. Alas, it doesn’t take long before you wind up finding more hallways, with rows and rows of doors just like what you have seen before. Doors, doors everywhere you turn and look, all in various shapes and forms, all of them locked and bolted. Only the windows are open to show you the outside world and even those are not sufficient enough to be made as your exit from the main building. 

By the time you return to your bedchamber, not only exhaustion rolls through your body, but also wonder. 

“Welcome home,” the King father had said upon your arrival. 

Deep down, you find it hard to see this place as such, judging from your first exploration of this place. On first glance, and after your first encounter, this castle seems more like a veritable prison, much like the dark castles that the townsfolk would talk about in their dark tales and urban legends.

As you sit on your bed to wait for the day to pass, you spend it wondering just how you are to make this place as your new home without feeling like a prisoner, just like you have been while you were living in the heaven-like prison called The Citadel. 

The home camp for The Brotherhood of Jorn has been lively since the break of dawn. Between the hired soldiers preparing to leave for their jobs and the plans to move camp before the change of season, not a single one of these soldiers have been idle. Meanwhile, at the head of the camp, the Captain himself is preoccupied with his own affair to meddle with his men’s dealings. 

“A carriage traveling through the bluffs, you say?” Min Yoongi questions his attendant as he walks in fast pace towards his horse, carrying his heavy travel bag on his side. 

“Yes, Your Highne—oh, I mean, Captain,” Ansen responds to him, sounding troubled and breathless as he struggles to match his sovereign’s quick pace. “The patrolling guards from the outer borders of Emburn Empire that you ordered to watch over the wastelands claimed to have sensed a disturbance from the uphill woods. So they went out of their scope of patrol to see what was going on. They came and intercepted a carriage going downhill from the source of disturbance, and suspected that their arrival may have something to do with it, even though they was said to have come from the direction of a neighbouring town nearby.” 

Ansen stops talking to catch his breath just in time for Yoongi to reach where his loyal horse has been waiting for him. Once he manages to calm down, Ansen lends a hand as Yoongi begins fastening his bag on the side of his horse’s saddle, all while continuing to rely the message that he had just received from home. “After gaining information from the carriage’s driver, the guards continued their journey uphill but found nothing. There were small traces of magic left behind near the top of the hill, and rough tracks of the carriage wheels that seemed to have come out of nowhere, that’s why the guards suspected the possibility of portals opening in that area but couldn’t find its source.” 

Yoongi halts just as he hears this. His heart starts racing, even if he does feel uneasy about the royal guards going through the bluffs when they weren’t supposed to. 

The bluffs which Ansen mentioned is the uncharted area spread right outside the territory of his true homeland, the Emburn Empire. A territory which has become the main border between the outer region of Emburn Empire in the Land Far Far Away and the human realm. But what makes the territory completely inviolable and considered to be a sacred land is the wastelands located on the other end of the bluffs. 

Hidden under the thick wall of infinite mist and perched atop of the Earthpeak cliff, is the ruins of the Flagon Empire, the mighty kingdom which had fallen during the Great War between the fairy kingdoms of Far Far Away many, many years ago.

The only traces left behind from the missing part of his soul which he is now chasing with all of his will. 

There was a reason why Yoongi had ordered some of his men to pay close attention to the wastelands, as he felt that if something was about to happen, then it would only begin right where everything started many years ago. He just never expected that his men would come too close to the borders where the remnants of the Great War, the toxic spells and dark magic, may still exist.

“And what did they say about the carriage?” Yoongi questions his attendant without daring to look at him, afraid of what kind of expression he might be showing after hearing about activities happening in the bluffs. 

“It was said to be a common carriage, with an emblem that doesn’t seem to represent any nearby kingdom, either in the Far Far Away land or in the human realm,” Ansen explains, suddenly feeling a bit unsure just when he is about to continue. “There is one problem, however. Our soldiers testified that they sensed a magic shield surrounding the carriage as they came past, and as they were leaving the area, they caught sightings of horsemen which seemed to be following them from a fair distance while trying not to be seen.”

Yoongi turns around to face his attendant just then, noticing Sergeant Jang Yijeong who is coming to approach them. Seeing the look on his friend’s eyes, Yoongi can tell that Yijeong has heard what Ansen has been telling him.  

“Did they have a good look at the passengers?” Yoongi asks again, just as Yijeong stands right beside Ansen, and the three of them gather closely as the attendant relays the news to them while making sure that nobody around them would overhear. 

“Yes, Captain. Although, there seems to be a problem with the information given by the messenger,” Ansen looks a bit doubtful for a moment before he begins to explain, “According to the soldier who came to observe the carriage closely, the passengers seemed to be two maidens, one who was a bit older than the other. Both of them were wearing fancy coats with common summer dresses underneath. The other soldier who conversed with the driver was told that the two ladies were out on vacation from a nearby town, and they were out heading towards the coastline to catch the sunrise.” 

Yoongi frowns at this information. Why would a common carriage drive through the bluffs, daring themselves to go as close as the wastelands and almost breaching through the borders of Emburn Empire if they were merely searching for a chance to watch the sunrise, a sight that wasn’t too uncommon on that part of Far Far Away land?

He turns to Yijeong, already recognising the look that his friend is giving him before he even dares him to speak. “Why do I get a feeling that you are also here to give me news?” 

Yijeong’s expression turns grim for a moment, though there is a glimpse of curiosity written on his face when he speaks. “Are you talking about a carriage appearing on the other end of the realm’s border?” he asks, to which Yoongi confirms by sharing a summarised version of Ansen’s report before he requests Yijoeng to relay his news. “Last night, two of our men who were on their way back to camp tried to intercept a carriage leaving The Citadel during the rise of Lemmus Rising. They couldn’t get anywhere near the carriage, unfortunately, as they were caught by the royal guards rather quickly. They were apprehended and questioned about their movements, but were released without any repercussions once the carriage was no longer on sight.” 

“A royal carriage traveling at night into the forest, followed by an appearance of a pair of travellers at the bluffs? This couldn’t be a coincidence,” Ansen wonders loudly just as Yoongi begins wondering the same thing. 

“The Wicked King wouldn’t be that reckless,” Yoongi says to his men, although he still sounds doubtful.  

“But who were the people in the carriage? There were no news or signs of His Majesty leaving The Citadel last night. The men had been convinced by the royal guards that they were lady maids and palace staff being sent out to the orchard house which belongs to the Royal family in the Elcester Forest,” Yijeong inquires, to which Yoongi shakes his head after thinking deeply about this matter.  

“I don’t think that would be the case. We have never seen them sending out their palace staff in their royal carriages, let alone with multiple royal guards escorting them if it was merely for the palace’s business. And it would be odd to send anyone to work during the eve of Lemmus Rising, when the people would be busy doing their rites to pray for their ancestors’ soul,” Yoongi says, trying to be as calm as possible even if he feels like his voice is getting drowned by the sound of his racing heartbeat. “Whoever the Wicked King sent out with the carriage, they must be important to him, and he was using the Lemmus Rising phenomenon to cover it.” 

His voice sounds a bit hollow to his own ears as he says this, only because he is trying his best to tame the burning hope rising in his chest. 

A royal carriage traveling through the forest. The disturbance that was felt at the same exact time he felt a portal opening in the Elcester Forest. Two traveling maidens entering the bluffs merely a short period of time later. 

There could only be one explanation to answer this series of events. “They were in disguises. That was what the magic was for. Whoever they were, the magic must have changed how they appeared in the eyes of people who dared to take a closer look.” 

“Have you any suspicions who they might have been?” Yijeong questions him, but Yoongi cannot find it in him to answer loudly. 

I do. 

“I’m not too sure. But let’s watch closely at the situation until we can find out more,” Yoongi says, completely contradicting his own thoughts as he is suddenly feeling determined to find answers. Yijeong watches closely as Yoongi tightens his coat, only realising now that the white horse standing beside his sovereign is saddled and ready to go, with packed bags being hanged on his side.

“You’re leaving?” 

Yoongi looks at him and nods. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? It’s time for me to go home,” he says. “He is making his moves just as we’re getting closer, so it should be ideal for me to return and heal my mana, just in case it would be needed to handle any situation that may arise in the future. I might also be able to find some answers if I observe the situation closely while planning our next move.” 

Yes, he needs some answers. He needs to know what the Wicked King is up to and if this has anything to do with the recent movements of the neighbouring empire that seems suspicious. 

The only thing that he cannot possibly share to his companions is that he no longer has any mana left to spare. Not when he has been using the last of his mana to find his soulmate. Even if he had only managed to do so through his dreams. 

Yoongi closes his eyes as he recalls the first meeting he had with you the night before. It was some sort of a miracle that he managed to find a mage hiding in Smotia who was capable of using ancient spells to help him trace his soulmate. It was through the mage that he found out that there was a place where the magic concealing your presence would not exist. And through his help, Yoongi was able to see you through the dreamlands, to find that the one he had thought he had lost a long time ago has always been so close within reach, concealed under a spell hidden within the amulet you were seen wearing in the dream. 

The only thing he regretted was wasting the short time he had with you by promising to find you, only to find out that the Wicked King might have moved you to a different place. Will he find you if he returns home and once he recovered his mana? 

I cannot afford to have too much hope, not right now. Not after years and years of failing to find any trace of her in this realm, he silently tells himself, as he continues to wonder what is currently happening with Nythelean Empire. 

If she truly had been one of the maidens inside the carriage, why would he send her out to the wasteland?

Why now? 

— © 2023 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.

[xaracosmia]

ꕥ — WELCOME TO EXO COSMIA, ISAAC GREENFIELD. 🌑

ꕥ — OOC INFORMATION;

name / alias: Megamaw age: 26 pronouns: he/him ooc contact: megamaw on tumblr! other characters in xc: N/A

ꕥ — IC INFORMATION;

name: Isaac Ashton Greenfield age: 24 pronouns: he/him series: N/A canon point: N/A app triggers: violence, minors in dangerous situations, parental abandonment, murder, child abuse

personality: Isaac Greenfield was once a headstrong, hot-blooded kid who fought for what was right. But, as time has passed, his vigor has waned, and his temper has cooled, and he seems almost a little tired.On the surface, he seems like a kind young man, albeit a little goofy and eccentric. He’s fiercely loyal, has a strong sense of right and wrong, and will leap into danger to protect the innocent, and is a firm believer in direct action. He’s the type of guy that won’t let someone monologue in front of him while they’re in punching distance. He’s a lover of nature, and is a deeply affectionate and giving person towards his friends and family. The kind of person that would tear apart heaven and earth to protect the people he loves.

And, while this isn’t a facade…

… underneath the surface, he’s grappling with intense homesickness, wracked with guilt for things he wish he did, and things he wish he didn’t. Even if he’s been forgiven, he can’t seem to bring himself to forgive himself for any of it, and that’s a weight he constantly carries with him. And his self-esteem is terrible, constantly comparing himself to his allies, and lamenting his chronic illness, that he can’t get his body to work like it used to, overwhelmed with a feeling of helplessness and uselessness.

But there’s no time for that. He shouldn’t trouble anyone with that. And so, still does his best to put on a strong smile, and assure everyone that he’s doing OK.

Even if he’s not.

Even if he hasn’t been OK for a very long time.

something your muse struggles with: Isaac Greenfield is a character wracked with feelings of guilt and inadequacy, comparing himself to his peers and failing to see his own strong suits, and at the forefront of his mind is always his strong homesickness, his desire to return home, to a mother he hasn’t seen in over 13 years.

And while these are what he /consciously/ grapples with the most, his own dwindling sense of self-worth combined with his own kindhearted, selfless nature have warped him into a person who puts his own feelings and needs on the backburner, even when it’s obvious he’s struggling.

your muse’s greatest strength: Even if he doesn’t believe himself to be anything special, constantly comparing himself to peers of far greater strength or magical experience, Isaac Greenfield is incredibly inventive and resourceful with using the abilities and limited magical energy he /does/ have.

And while there’s a shadow creeping in on the edge of his smile, as his self-doubt grows, he genuinely does have a firm belief that things can improve, and in a team setting, if he can find the nerve to speak up, often finds himself as the emotional core of the group, serving as a voice of reason and compassion.

history / background: Isaac’s early childhood was pleasant. He grew up raised by his mother, and his paternal grandfather, both of whom loved him very much. His mother was an avid teller of ghost stories, and his grandfather had odd powers that often turned heads, though he often just used them as parlor tricks to amuse the young Isaac.

But, on the night of his tenth birthday, something odd happened. As he laid in bed, the space around him distorted, and his grandfather, sensing something was wrong, ran to his bedroom to check on him.

And the next morning, the two weren’t home anymore. And as much as his grandfather tried, for some reason, despite his magical aptitude, could not bring the duo home.

To make a long story short, Isaac and his grandfather would try and make a home of the strange new world they found themselves in. Grandpa Greenfield would build Isaac shelter, and begin training him to use his own latent magical abilities, while Isaac would go off on adventures, making friends with the locals, and generally standing up for what he believed was right.

And he was good at it. He was strong, and he was either very magically talented, or just an exceptional student.

But as the years passed on, Isaac’s homesickness grew stronger, and stronger. And every day, he missed his mom, but it hurt even more, knowing his mom was probably worried sick. And he didn’t want to keep her waiting.

A passing remark from his grandfather was all it took. A remark about the moon, used as a metaphor, wildly misinterpreted. And so, that very night, Isaac Greenfield did what he believed was the only rational course of action.

A young teenage Isaac Greenfield snuck into his grandfather’s room, stole his grandfather’s treasured walking stick, a family heirloom of incredible magical power, and set off into the night for a tower that was purported to house the region’s local moon goddess, to pick a fight, mistakenly believing her defeat was the only way to reunite with his mom.

And his grandfather awoke that morning to learn several horrifying things. His grandson, mortally injured, barely clinging to life, having walked home after the scuffle. And that, against all odds, he /won/.

The cost was high. Much to his horror, despite his victory, it was all for nothing. A misunderstanding. And as time went on, the damage he suffered during that climactic, pointless battle never fully went away. His body ached, he had trouble staying awake all day, and he just couldn’t move the way he used to.

And he began to feel hopeless. That he’d never see his mom again. And so, hiding away from the friends that he made, for the next few years, he focused every waking moment to researching. Researching anything that could bring him closer to returning home.

Ultimately, in order to research faster, he created a fascimile of life from his own magic, intended to research in his stead, to be sent to a universe whose flow of time moved at a faster rate, and ultimately return the knowledge it gained back to him.

Maybe it shouldn’t have worked. Maybe it was something about the family heirloom, almost as if it was acting of its own accord.

But it did.

And what he created and sent away… well, to make a long story short, his life was rough. And by the time a few months had passed for Isaac Greenfield, the flow of time between his world and his research vessel’s had equalized.

And it was becoming harder and harder to deny that what he’d created had a will of his own. So, subtly, once in a while, he intervened to protect the boy, as his guilt grew and grew, as the boy fell into a life of crime, working for a gang, that, try as he might, he could never fully escape.

He knew, ultimately, that what he had created had an expiration date. That his body was unstable. That his inaction led to this /person/ having a much rougher life, than if he was just there.

In the end, the research of his son was the straw that broke the camel’s back. A world, with an already deeply unstable space-time continuum, cracked like an egg. And so, as the universe he grew up in broke down, so did the body of Isaac Greenfield’s son. And he stepped in, to collect what remained of him.

But, before returning home, at great risk to himself, he took a detour.

It was a meaningless gesture, if the world was ending, anyway. But he felt like it had to be done. To give that crime boss that gave that poor boy hell one strong punch to the face.

After that stunt, Isaac Greenfield barely escaped with his life.

And a year later, with the help of an old family friend, he was able to reconstitute his creation, in a stabler body.

Their relationship was rocky, at first, but the boy stayed, knowing he had nowhere to return to, and at least he had a roof over his head while he figured stuff out. Until, one night, Isaac’s grandfather recanted the story of what happened after he passed. The tale of an outraged, grieving, repentant young man, at great risk to himself, punching out the person that had hurt him the most.

…

It’s been three years since that day. That boy has come to see Isaac Greenfield and his grandfather as family, now. Time and time again, Isaac Greenfield has put himself in danger to protect that teenager.

Even knowing he’s been forgiven, he can’t fully forgive himself.

He’s done living for himself.

And now, starting to come back out of his shell, Isaac Greenfield is about to catch up with some old childhood friends, and embark on an adventure which will–

Oh.

Sorry.

Before I tell you that story, I guess we have to tell this one, don’t we?

powers / abilities:

FIRE MAGIC - Magic flows through Isaac Greenfield’s blood, both figuratively and literally. He has the ability to create green magical flames from any point of his body, and freely manipulate them. Furthermore, he can alter their temperature, ranging from an intense, blazing heat, to a gentle, safe to touch warmth.

However, he has significantly more trouble manipulating flames that do not have his energy signature in them. As a result, to manipulate foreign flames with any amount of precision, he would need to add his own energy to it, which can be done via either contact, or through simply shooting a flame already infused with his magic towards it.

As a consequence of his ability to manipulate things tinged with his energy, and as a result of his blood being tinged with his energy, he has some limited degree of control over his own blood, allowing him to cause blood he’s shed to combust from a distance.

And as Isaac Greenfield’s most natural elemental leaning, he enjoys a supernatural heat tolerance, unable to be damaged by high temperatures.

WATER MAGIC - Isaac’s secondary elemental affinity. He can conjure and manipulate water, though unlike his fire magic, it doesn’t take on any other color. While water naturally conducts his energy signature well, compared to his fire magic, his affinity for it isn’t nearly as natural, nor did he have much practical training in using it effectively. It is, as a result, usually relegated to being combined with his fire magic, allowing him to create and manipulate steam.

Manipulating water he didn’t conjure, as with fire, requires him to infuse it with his own personal magic.

Unlike his fire magic, his water magic confers no similar defensive benefits. In fact, ironically, Isaac cannot swim.

SPATIAL MAGIC - Unlike the former two, Isaac Greenfield’s grasp on manipulating space was learned with no sort of natural inclination towards it. In the past, he used to be able to use this to teleport himself great distances, or repeatedly during fights to dodge attacks and disorient his enemies.

However, the amount of magical energy required to do this even once is intense, and his body can’t handle him using this ability so recklessly, anymore. After using this ability, his energy reserves will take a massive hit. Furthermore, teleportation is accompanied with a blinding flash of light, tinged green with his magic, which can be either a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation.

As a result of the toll it takes on his body, Isaac Greenfield rarely uses this in a fight, and generally uses his knowledge of it to support his allies. At the very least, he’s very knowledgeable about the field, having studied it extensively for several years.

NECROMANCY - A magical skill Isaac Greenfield unwittingly obtained as a teenager. He can speak to lingering spirits, and the recently deceased. Furthermore, he can a willing spirit to an object, or help pull a spirit back to its body in an attempt to resucitate someone recently deceased.

However, he cannot use these abilities on an unwilling or otherwise uncooperative spirit, and his body cannot handle the intense magical strain caused by attempting to actually raise the dead.

inherent abilities:

MAGIC - Even with his abilities locked away, Isaac Greenfield’s body– specifically, his circulatory system– still carries magic. His blood is naturally tinged with his energy signature, and using magic expends the energy within his blood. As a result of this connection, if he overuses his abilities, he may suffer from symptoms resembling anemia shortly before passing out from overexertion. Abilities that drain or take away magic can be similarly destructive to his body.

Furthermore, as a result of a hereditary curse, as a result of a deal an ancestor made, while he enjoys the benefits of an inability to die of old age, being affected by time-based magic or abilities will cause even more drastic damage to his circulatory system, causing the magic in his blood to react violently.

Finally, as a result of a severe magical injury he suffered as a teenager, Isaac Greenfield suffers from chronic fatigue. His body has trouble replenishing his natural magical reserves. He has trouble exerting himself, is prone to taking long naps, and blows to his scarred shoulders can cause extra shock to his system.

COMBAT SKILL - Even without access to his abilities, Isaac Greenfield is a skilled hand-to-hand fighter, notably having a devastating right uppercut.

MAGICAL KNOWLEDGE - During his teenage years, after his health suddenly and sharply took a nosedive, Isaac Greenfield started taking his magical studies significantly more seriously– and it’s hard to argue it didn’t pay off. When combined with his magic abilities, he can sense magic energy, make reasonable educated guesses on the effects of lingering spells or rituals, and has a repetoire of magical knowledge eclectic enough that he could probably write a trivia book.

He has at least has some basic training with enchanting, allowing him to infuse objects with properties of magic he’s regained– for example, allowing him to heatproof objects he infuses with his fire magic, or increase the storage capacity of a backpack infused with spatial magic.

HOBBIES - Isaac Greenfield knows how to play an acoustic guitar, and can sing decently well. He enjoys whittling things out of driftwood, and isn’t a bad cook, though he has a tendency to get rather… inventive. With his recipes.

SPEECH - As a result of the world he grew up in, Isaac Greenfield’s speech can naturally be understood by wildlife, and vice-versa, a property of his home world that has continued to apply even after being forcibly parted with it. Furthermore, at a young age, his grandfather briefly cursed him to be unable to swear, as any words he spoke or wrote were replaced with loud censor bleeps. However, he doesn’t swear all that much, anyway, so he elected to keep the curse. In practice, he can now make the noise with his mouth on command like any other vocalization, and similarly apply it to his own writing, even if he’s not swearing.

items / weapons:

BACKPACK - Isaac Greenfield received this seemingly-plain brown backpack when he was young as was a birthday gift from his grandfather, who enchanted it himself. It’s heatproof, durable, and can repair its own wear and tear over time. However, most notably, its carrying capacity has been magically enhanced. Objects placed inside have no regard for space constraints, nor do they add any weight to the backpack once fully inside. If Isaac Greenfield wishes to retrieve an item from it, he doesn’t even need to be looking at it when he reaches in, and the backpack will retrieve any stored item he wishes, as long as he can recall what he’s looking for

In a pinch, he can hide himself or someone else in it, if he really wanted to. As long as the backpack is closed, it is soundproof, and oxygen isn’t a concern in the magical space inside. A living being inside his backpack can easily pop right back out, if they want, which is convenient if he wants to carry an ally, but makes it incredibly impractical if he wants to use it to transport an enemy.

FAMILY HEIRLOOM - The magnum opus of his grandfather’s grandfather, and his final work, which was entrusted to his grandfather on the artificer’s deathbed, and eventually passed down to Isaac. A gold walking stick with a green orb on the end. It doesn’t look very ornate, but it is heavily enchanted.

What it does can be broken down to three main enchantments.

1. It is virtually indestructible.

2. It can absorb magical energy and store it for later. For Isaac, who suffers from a magical form of chronic fatigue, he can use this to alleviate his symptoms. In a fight, if he’s prepared, he can block magical or energy-based attacks and fire them right back at his enemies. And if he’s disarmed, as long as it still has some of his own energy in it, he can try to pull it back to his hand.

3. When ‘improperly wielded’, if the walking stick is under enough physical duress, the orb at the top of the walking stick erupts with a fiery green blast. Ultimately, it turns out as a walking stick, you aren’t 'supposed’ to be holding it like a baseball bat and hitting people with it, which Isaac figured out early on.

Once in a blue moon, it appears to almost assist Isaac, guiding him through more complicated attacks with it, and when wielded by someone else, the weight of it shifts back and forth, in an unwieldy way, so Isaac can’t help but wonder sometimes if there’s some kind of intelligence lurking within it…

starting ability: FIRE MAGIC starting item: BACKPACK extra:

Isaac is ace/aro!

His favorite beverage is root beer.

His two favorite foods are the burgers his mother used to make, with homemade hot sauce, and skewers with chunks of cheddar cheese and pineapple on them.

He stands at around 6'1".

He often claims the first rule of adventuring is to take everything not nailed to the ground. Really, though, he says this because he played a few too many adventure games growing up.

Wearing green tie-dye has become something of a family tradition.

He’s styled his hair the same way ever since he was 10.

Isaac Greenfield’s dad isn’t in the picture. He’s not dead, he just sucks.

I am going to scream if I forgot anything.

discord id: tiedyewarlock passcode: i hope he knows i'd do anything for him

[doctorkaiju]

Shadowbanning: The Invisible Hand That's Giving Us the Heebie-Jeebies

Ever felt like you're shouting into the void on social media, only to hear your own echo? Welcome to the Twilight Zone of the digital world, where shadowbanning is the unseen phantom playing tricks on your mind.

The Mind Games of Shadowbanning:

Shadowbanning, the covert cousin of outright banning, is the sneaky tactic social media platforms use to ghost users without them even knowing. It's like being invited to a party, only to find out you're stuck behind a one-way mirror. You can see everyone, but no one can see you. Spooky, right?

The Center for Democracy and Technology, in their report "Shedding Light on Shadowbanning," found that nearly one in ten U.S. social media users believe they've been shadowbanned. That's a lot of people feeling like they've been sent to the digital equivalent of Siberia.

The psychological toll? It's like a bad episode of a reality TV show. Users feel isolated, paranoid, and start to mistrust the very platforms they spend hours scrolling through. It's like being gaslit by your own phone.

The Social Side Effects of Shadowbanning:

On the sociological front, shadowbanning is like a bad magic trick that makes diversity of thought disappear. It creates a distorted reality, where only certain voices are heard, leading to echo chambers and polarized communities. It's like a never-ending game of "telephone," where the original message gets lost in translation.

The Call for Transparency:

So, what's the antidote to this digital dystopia? Transparency. Social media platforms need to pull back the curtain on their content moderation practices. If a user's visibility is being limited, they should be told. It's like being sent off the field in a game of soccer - you'd want to know what rule you broke, right?

Clear guidelines on what's considered a foul play and consistent enforcement of these rules would go a long way in reducing the paranoia associated with shadowbanning. It's time to turn the lights on and banish the shadow of doubt.

In a nutshell, shadowbanning, while sold as a necessary evil, needs a serious reality check. It's high time we shed light on this phantom practice and demand a healthier, more transparent online environment. After all, who wants to party in the dark?

- Co-Written and Researched using GPT4, KeyMate.AI, and ScholarAI

[monstersdownthepath]

Milestone Monster: Fafnheir, Father of Linnorms

CR 24

Chaotic Evil Colossal Dragon

Land of the Linnorm Kings, pg. 56~57

Ancient beyond reckoning, the Father of Linnorms was one of the first creatures to cross from the First World into the Material Plane, settling on a large forest in Golarion’s northern lands where he has dwelled for tens of thousands of years. He witnessed the arrival of Dahak on Golarion, fought alongside the Serpentfolk, knows the Norn by their names, tutored the greatest Runelord of Pride, and his presence alone has warped the Grungir Forest into a land where the veil between Golarion and the First World is thin as paper. He is Fafnheir, and in all respects he is to dragons what a dragon is to a human. Something ancient, powerful, and sometimes uncanny; something to be feared.

It is prophesied that whosoever slays Fafnheir will unite all the Ulfen tribes of the northern Inner Sea Region, but whoever made such a prophecy has a sense of humor as twisted as any cruel fairy. Many warriors in the past have marched single file into Fafnheir’s lair, only to have all of their equipment and magic items added to his hoard, and such would-be leaders must march to his lair, for the Father of Linnorms is no fool and can never become bored. He has never left his forest and only rarely ever leaves his lair to feed. He’s not going to come to you for a fight, you are going to him, and you’re going to brave every single danger of the Grungir Forest, every trick of the fey that live there, every trap and magical distortion that Fafnheir has caused with his presence alone, and every ward against trespassers he has erected in the millions of years he has lived. 

But we’re not focusing on the dangers of the forest, today. No, we’re talking about the beast at the center of this labyrinth, and if you’re anything like me, as you read you may begin wondering if the prophecy really was a trick by the fey...

Fafnheir’s legendary nature comes in part, like many high-level beings, from his incredible resilience. Finding a single weapon capable of penetrating his hide is a quest in and of itself, his DR 20 only bypassed by a weapon that is both cold iron and Epic. This requires either forging your own or, more likely, having the DM dangle a bunch on a thread for each martial member of the party. While he has no other elemental resistances, he’s immune to Fire and Electricity damage, his draconic lineage renders him impervious to paralysis and sleep effects, his Linnorm lineage meaning that curses and poisons are completely worthless, and his ancient nature means mind-affecting effects have no effect on him. He’s also got SR 35 standing between casters and half their arsenals, with their other halves canceled out by his immunities... and his movement options.

Fafnheir is an all-terrain dragon, you see, able to burrow, swim, and even fly at varying speeds (30ft, 50ft, and 100ft, respective). With unrestricted access to the Z-axis, his angles of attack are impossible to count and any caster trying to manipulate the battlefield will be rendered completely useless as he flies over or tunnels through every obstacle. Any attempts at wrangling or controlling him will similarly fail, as he has an eternal Freedom of Movement effect on himself that flat-out states it cannot be dispelled! Interestingly, he’s not immune to death effects, petrification, or ability score damage, opening up avenues of attack normally closed off for such high-level monsters... IF you can make it past his Spell Resistance, of course, and IF you believed the effects would work in the first place and brought them. Sometimes, assumptions about high-level monsters can get you killed!

And even if you DID know about his weakness, if Fafnheir knew you were coming (and he likely did, all things considered), he’s likely layered one of his 3/day castings of Spell Turning on himself to bounce back any spell that makes it past his shielding. The book also notes that with age comes wisdom, and I don’t mean his actual Wisdom score (27, if you were curious); I mean he’s spent millions of years learning every single possible trick and trap that armed and determined humans can level against him, and as such the DM is fully encouraged to have him use his 3/day Limited Wish to its fullest possible extent to screw with the party as directly, personally, and cuttingly as possible. When you’ve seen potentially THOUSANDS of adventurers--some prepared for anything, most not prepared for him--come marching in covered in the blood of every fey and fiend that failed to stop them, you learn a few tricks to dealing with them as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Even without Limited Wish, he has Wall of Force and Quickened Greater Dispel Magic available 3/day each (and an unquickened Greater Dispel at will) to strip an enemy combatant of their strongest buffs before cutting them off from magical assistance, leaving them helpless when he closes in and unleashes one of the most terrifying Full-Attacks in all of Pathfinder, and not just for the outright damage! His twin claws deal 2d8+17 damage each, while his horns gore his foes for 4d6+17 damage, but the danger his lashing tail doesn’t just lay in the damage it can deal right away, but over time. Anyone damaged (4d6+8) by the tail is also Grabbed, and failing to break the crushing grapple causes a further 4d6+8 constriction damage each round... and then there’s his bite.

The bite of Fafnheir is legendary for the quick death it spells for even the greatest of warriors, should they forget to pack some proof against poison. While all Linnorm possess extremely lethal venoms (I’m talking 6 rounds of Constitution drain) that assure only warriors with poison protection can safely combat them, don’t forget that he can freely dispel any non-permanent protection, and if THAT fails he can always use Limited Wish to strip a foe of whatever item is shielding them in the first place. His molten fangs deal 6d8+17 damage and infuse his victims with a superheated venom that tears them apart mind, body, and soul. Anyone who fails against Fafnheir’s venom will then have to deal with TEN ROUNDS of making saves against poison that deals 10d6 Fire damage with every failed save! 10d6 Fire damage, and 1d4 drain to every ability score.

Read that again. Here it is, a second time, for emphasis: Fafnheir’s poison deals 10d6 Fire damage and drains ALL of your ability scores by 1d4 points every time you fail a DC 34 Fortitude save for 10 entire rounds. Get bit again? That’s a DC 36 Fortitude save every 15 rounds. Once more? DC 38 for 20 rounds, so even if you defeat him or flee you may simply keel over dead two minutes later. Curing Fafnheir’s poison requires three consecutive saves, as well.

Let’s say you rather wisely decide to stay at a range, then. Let’s say somehow this is allowed--for the sake of this argument, you’re not in his cavern labyrinth or trapped in his Walls of Force. Well, remember that he can still fly 100ft a round and use Greater Vital Strike with his bite (turning it into 18d8+17 damage), but even still let’s ignore that for a moment. Like all Linnorm--and indeed, like all Dragons in general--Fafnheir has a Breath Weapon. A colossal 90ft cone of superheated wind so devastatingly hot that it deals 26d10 Fire damage to everyone and everything in the area... And there’s more! Because there’s three potential effects that can be laced into his stiff breeze, and he can choose any two of them:

Deafening: Everything in the area that fails a DC 38 Fortitude save is struck permanently deaf by the roaring wind Tornado Force: The winds from his maw blast out at over 300 miles an hour, automatically dispelling any fog and mist in the area and causing everything affected by blast to make a DC 15 Strength check or be blown 1d6x10 feet backwards and get knocked prone. Flying creatures must make a DC 25 Fly check or be blasted straight out of the air and crash into the ground. And Storm-Laced, which causes a bolt of lightning to fire from between his teeth at the closest creature to him in the area of the exhalation, hitting them for an additional 20d6 damage (halved on a DC 36 Reflex save).

While Tornado Force and Storm-Laced are his typical go-tos, there’s nothing like a little bit of party-wide deafness to completely screw up a team’s ability to communicate with one another and collaborate their efforts. That tasty 20% failure rate to spells with verbal components is a cherry on top! ... wait, no, the cherry on top is Fafnheir using his calamitous exhalation as a standard action, then flying 100ft to land directly on top of the most dangerous enemy he can see to just ever-so-cheekily ask if they really want to try and stand up with his Combat Reflexes ready to beat them right back down.

And after ALL THIS? If you manage to pierce his hide, weather his damage, push past his defenses, and fight through the penalties imposed by his Limited Wishes? You’re not the first. You’re likely not going to be the last. Though effectively unheard of, Fafnheir has fallen before. Perhaps even multiple times, if it can be believed! Sometimes, people--especially a coordinated party--can manage to beat the Father of Linnorms!

Only to be destined to become the next.

Linnorms all possess nasty Death Curses. Final, spiteful utterances that cling to the very soul of the victim that can do everything from make them vulnerable to a specific element, to fill their lungs with water at random intervals just to catch them off guard. Much like how his poison is a step above the poison of other Linnorms, and his Breath Weapon is apocalyptic even when compared to others of his kind, his Death Curse is a step above theirs as well; anyone who fails to resist his curse plays host to his parasitic soul, which begins to quickly consume and subsume theirs.

1d6 Charisma drain each day is the manifested form of this curse, the victim’s personality and memories slowly being overridden by that of the Father of Linnorms. The moment they fall to 0 Charisma, they fall into an eternal coma from which there is no awakening... And they must succeed a DC 32 Fortitude save each day or simply die. But this is not the end, for if the victim dies from ANY means while cursed by Fafnheir, their remains explode in a 60ft burst of devastating, burning winds (identical to his breath)... and the great dragon is reborn on the spot as if by True Resurrection.

Perhaps there’s... another way to unite the north? Anything? Literally any other way to unite all of the Ulfen? Please, guys, I’m begging you to find another option here--

You can read more about him here.

[serenheist]

What Jungkook is like in a relationship/ Jungkook as a boyfriend Tarot reading

I was gonna put Jin up first but I finished Jungkook quicker so oops but I’m finally back after 200 years of adulting things

1. How long does it take Jungkook to get into a relationship? 8 of pentacles, 2 of cups, the world Do he prefer long or short term relationships 7 of swords, ace of wands Nelys the alchemist 27 reversed, 5 of swords, 9 of cups reversed 

For an actual relationship and not just dating I think he can take a while if not a long ass time because he’s too much of a perfectionist and will work hard at making sure everything is right before getting into a relationship. I don't know why I’m getting like before things would get “steamy” he would never let them see his body until he worked out enough for his own standards like everything has to be perfected and mastered beforehand. There’s also a reoccurring theme of work getting in the way and even in the beginning stages it’s like he meets up with them does whatever then has to hurry and run back to work and is like “hey I gotta go but I’ll text you later” type of shit. Big focus mostly on career though so it’s hard to tell. But I still think he’s not just sleeping around with just anyone I mean they have to be important if the 2 of cups pops up. I don’t think he’ll get into an actual relationship with someone unless there’s a strong connection. Or at least to him it seems like an important connection.

I gotta say too that the 7 of swords usually screams fuckboi to me but in this case I think the lying and trickery aspect of the card can be taken literally to mean of course he has to lie and sneak around when fans would legit doxx and slit his partners throat if they knew they were together. But anyway in a relationship there’s definitely gonna be extremely strong sexual chemistry I don’t know why this keeps popping up but alright. But one annoying thing is that in a relationship jungkook seems to like fighting in a way. He doesn’t like to lose to anything and will want to win an argument even if it’s petty. There’s also a kind of energy of the other person feeling inadequate sometimes with how much praise he gets from the entire world. It makes the other person feel as exposed since they’re not doing as “well” in the grand scheme of things. And will sometimes not want to compliment him on things because he gets compliments from the entire world this is just day to day petty shit. Another thing is getting into a relationship thinking this person is the one but then realizing over time and all the work you put in was useless cause this is emotionally unfulfilling.

2. Past and present love life king of pentacles, wheel of fortune reversed, queen of pentacles 

Past: bruh his love life in the past is similar to the present. He was mostly focused on building his own career and wealth and love was on the back burner tbh. I think since he has huge goals for himself there was really no time to even do other things. But his love life right now seems like it’s a external long term problem affecting it. And I think he’s learning how to balance his love life and work life right now and just letting things happen and trying to take care of his body and mind.

3. What is he like in a relationship Tobaira of the waters 37 reversed, The glanconer 62 reversed, mother of dawn, knight of pentacles, flashover 11, 6 of swords reversed, addiction 11, envious gluttony 9, is this me? 4

When Jungkook is in a relationship he doesn’t fully feel like he can be emotionally vulnerable and instead will act mischievous and play around to hide behind vulnerability. It can tend to make the other person mad because they never know when he’ll actually be serious because he plays too much sometimes. There’s also playing up to peoples ideas of him. It’s not outwardly tricking people but allowing them to believe what they want and project their fantasies on him. It’s like a weird energy of wanting to rebel but also you feel stuck and want to please them so you don’t let them down. I think he overthinks legit everything and makes things a bigger deal in his mind than what it really is.

Another thing is he could have a tendency to stay with someone even if it’s toxic because of a mix of remembering the good times and also insecurities. There are big vibes of being emotionally stunted like I feel that he’s mentally a teenager still and even though he’s physically different and projects something different. When he’s in a relationship; he still feels like that insecure kid in his head and he can’t escape it. It’s like a false bravado thing going on. There’s a hole that leads to darkness and from that another one that leads to even more darkness. That's dramatic but that’s what it’s like for him. It’s like this emotionally starved monster in his head but in reality the monster is this scrawny young boy who wants to let go and open up but is blocked by himself and running away from his shadow aspects. I do see him though slowly moving towards becoming more open, honest allowing his vulnerable and passionate side out in a healthier way but it might take a while (unless he’s already been working on this) since the knight of pentacles is the slowest knight but he’s also the most stable and loyal.

4. What is his "type" the sage 19 reversed, knight of cups reversed, Jeanne the maid, golden empress, the lovers reversed, 3 of cups reversed 

His ideal type is someone who can come across as aloof, cold, excessively critical. Hey I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but when I pulled a clarifier I got the knight of cups reversed lolll. Dude likes toxic people apparently. On the surface they might look “normal” but on the inside their inner world is overflowing and they have an abundance of charisma and sexual energy. Honestly that could be a big reason why he likes that. There’s a big dualistic energy in them and appearing the best on surface level but underneath is really unpredictable and has the energy of unrequited love. I think he likes those types of people who don’t fawn over him like he’s the second coming of Jesus tbh. This person doesn’t give 2 fucks and they don’t tell everything up front they’re mysterious and it’s more of a challenge for him. They’re really good at appearing humble and maybe innocent even but that’s just because they know how to woo people really. They’re confident and can convince people of almost anything especially around those in power they know how to present their best self to get what they want.

At first I was confused why your ideal type would be someone that seems manipulative af but it makes sense when Jungkook has a lot of deep dark shit he needs to work on from the other cards. I think it’s a big codependency thing and excitement that someone toxic can bring also the fact that this person is down for anything in the bedroom they’re not ashamed or shy about it. His idea of love is pretty distorted he thinks he needs someone who is as intense as he is but really it would be a bad combination especially with the lovers reversed. I’m getting especially that as long as he keeps going after these types of people, he’s never going to be with his “true love” for a lack of a better term. Basically not be with someone who is actually good for him. There could be third party bs but I’m getting more of an overindulged and addiction energy between both of them. Even if he knows they’re no good it’s just so intoxicating it’s like a damn drug to him and it feeds into his more animalistic side (I have no idea how to articulate this lmao) it’s like possessive nature. This reminds me a lot of the attachment types since there’s a lot of people like this who love a more avoidant person and I feel that Jungkook is probably avoidant himself so this is like home sweet home to him. It puts him in the cat chasing mouse position instead of the other way around. That emotionally unavailable energy is very appealing to a lot of people I guess especially when you’re used to everyone bending over backwards for you.

5. What is his love language: Ta’Om the poet 29 reversed, the bodacious Bodach 59 reversed 

He likes when someone actually does helpful things for him that is useful and not like the annoying meddling energy of just doing stuff for him that he doesn’t want you to do. He also does this for others. So acts of service mostly but you already knew that.

[princessmisery666]

Come Join The Murder

Summary: When Dean goes to hell, he tasks Nikki with keeping an eye on Sam. She doesn’t anticipate the pain that comes with it.

Warnings: angst, demon blood-drinking, implied smut, cheating, breakup.

W/C: 1.5k

Characters: Sam Winchester, OFC, Ruby. Mentioned: Dean Winchester.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x OFC, Sam Winchester x Ruby.

Bingo: @anyfandomangstbingo Square Filled: Come Join the Murder by The White Buffalo

A/N: This is the start of a longer fic idea that has yet to be written, so for now, it’s a one-shot.

Betas: @wonder-cole // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deanwinchesterswitch // but all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: title card and gif made by me // dividers @firefly-graphics

Master Lists: AFG Angst // Main

Not a lot made sense in a hunter’s world. The innocent victims that got hurt or killed, the evil the creatures were capable of, the injustice of it all. But what made the least amount of sense to Nikki was right in front of her. Her own eyes witnessed the very thing she’d suspected of Sam but never truly believed. She still didn’t quite believe it, yet she was seeing it with her own two eyes.

Surely her mind was playing tricks on her.

Sam’s mouth latched on to Ruby’s wrist, breathlessly he pulled back and licked the small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

He looked like Sam, like her Sam. He was wearing Sam’s clothes; he had his hair, the slight crease in his brow that she loved to see smoothed out when she was beneath him. He appeared to be the sweet and courageous man she fell in love with, the person who woke her from nightmares with a soft touch and gentle words. But who was going to wake her from this nightmare?

The broken window of the dilapidated house blurred under the condensation of her labored breath, for which she was thankful, for it meant the rest of the scene playing out became further distorted under her tears. She barely saw Sam kiss Ruby, hands gripping her hair, ripping at one another’s clothes before she stumbled backward and ran.

She made it as far as the front of the broken and crumbling building. The sight of the Impala made her falter, quelling the overwhelming desire to flee. She’d promised the owner she would take care of his brother. She couldn’t break that promise.

But she couldn’t go back there. She wouldn’t interrupt the act she knew was playing out for fear that image would be forever seared on her mind, and she’d never be able to outrun it.

So she waited on Baby’s hood. Arms wrapped tightly around herself, more so to stop herself from falling apart rather than to keep warm. Dark clouds covered the crescent moon, and they seemed to roll in waves like her anger.

By the time Sam strolled from the building, Nikki felt thunderous. Ruby followed after him, her shorter legs keeping her a few feet behind him. Sam’s eyes finally landed on her, and he stopped in his tracks, his abrupt halt kicking up dust.

“Nikki,” he said, shooting a glance over his shoulder.

“How long?” Nikki asked through gritted teeth.

Ruby came to stand beside him, a smug smirk plastered on her angelic features. “That time?” the brunette asked. “That time was maybe forty minutes, wouldn’t you say, Sam? Your boy has got some stamina.”

Nikki wanted to give some snappy comeback, but she didn’t have it in her. The broken pieces of her heart were scraping against her chest, threatening to break the skin in the form of curses, angry fists, and red hot tears. Besides, Ruby was right, Sam did have stamina, but she was also wrong. He so clearly wasn’t Nikki’s. Not anymore, not now.

She had no cutting remarks or bitchy comments to make. She hopped off the hood and slowly made her way toward the adulterous pair, whispering the exorcism Sam had taught her.

“Sam,” Ruby managed to cry out while her body went rigid, eyes wide with fear.

“Nikki, stop!” he demanded. She turned her glare to him but continued raising the volume of her voice.

Sam hesitated a fraction of a second before he raced toward Nikki. One hand clamped around her mouth, and he used the other to wrap around her waist and lift her off the ground.

“Get out of here,” Sam shouted at Ruby. There was no margin for argument, and Ruby was smart enough not to push her luck. She rushed to the old Buick Nikki had barely registered as capable of being a functioning vehicle.

Nikki squirmed to try and release his grip, but it was no good. He was exceptionally strong; the demon blood coursing through him made him stronger than he’d ever been.

He squeezed a little tighter. “Stop struggling,” he demanded, and it snatched the breath from her lungs. The pitiful whimper she squeaked out brought him to his senses, and he placed her gently on her feet but held tight until Ruby peeled off in a storm of dust.

Nikki’s arms flailed, and she landed blow after blow onto his chest, shoved at him, slapped his face two, three, four times until he caught her wrist and gave her a tight-lipped scowl to tell her he’d endured all he was willing to take.

“You’re protecting demons now?!?!” she yelled. “It’s not enough to be drinking her blood; you’ve gotta fuck her, too?”

Sam sighed. “Nik, I….”

“I swear, if you say sorry, I’ll kill you where you stand.”

“I wasn’t going to say sorry,” he stated matter of factly, and somewhere amongst those six words, Nikki knew it was the beginning of the end. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I can’t focus on what I need to do to stop Lucifer and worry about hurting you.”

“Funny,” she scoffed, “you didn’t seem so worried about hurting me in there.”

“Maybe I’m not, not anymore at least.”

The look he gave her was so full of pity it made her stomach churn with revolt. He wasn’t sorry or upset that the time they’d been together was coming to an end. He was indifferent as if the whole thing were beneath him.

He shrugged his shoulders, and even that seemed like more effort than he was willing to spend on the conversation. “This is bigger than me and you, Nik.”

She shook her head slowly, disbelief at his blasé attitude more than anything else. “I gave you everything, Sam. Everything. I gave up my normal life for you, gave up hope of any sort of stable future so that I could be there for you when you needed me. I’ve been drink-”

Sam interrupted her indignant rambling, “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, not anymore.” He stepped closer, placed a small kiss on her forehead. But it was robotic as if some voice in his ear told him it was the right thing to do or a habit to comfort her that was hard to break.

“I promised Dean, we promised Dean we’d look after each other,” she tried, disgusted at how pathetic she sounded.

“Dean’s gone,” Sam said, “he doesn’t care what promises we break.”

The creak of the Impala’s door stung her ears, and she held her breath until the roar of Baby’s engine would be enough to drown out her cries.

Time lost its meaning. She couldn’t recall how long she remained outside the abandoned warehouse, but her tears ran dry, and a flock of crows pecked around the ground a few feet from her frozen form.

A murder.

She recalled a flock of crows was called a murder. A fact Sam had taught her, on a night she couldn’t sleep. Nightmares stealing the respite she needed, Sam had taken her on a midnight drive in Baby. Windows down, the warm summer air warming her in the places she wasn’t pressed against Sam. He had talked, reeling off random facts to distract her, and the one about the dark birds had been her favorite.

Native Americans believed them to be a symbol of death, and standing there, in the aftermath of the death of her relationship with Sam, she believed it, too.

The bravest of the murder hopped closer, squawked at her. A beady eye regarded her closely, staring into her soul, seeking out her sins, and with another high pitch call, he bowed his head. He knew all she’d done to help Sam, the lines she’d crossed, but he flapped his wings, an invitation to join the murder. Soar away into the night, fly up to the heavens and ask for forgiveness.

The brave crow flapped his wings again, hovered a few feet off the ground, and landed closer still, pecking a centimeter or so from her foot.

“I’m not dead,” she told the bird, “you can’t pick the meat from my bones just yet.”

I’m not dead.

The thought woke an understanding inside of her. She wasn’t dead, just her relationship with Sam. But she was more than a relationship. She took a deep breath and decided the road to forgiveness started with redemption.

Super Supernatural: @denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @waywardbaby / @xoxabs88xox / @cockslut-padalecki / @stoneyggirl2

So Get This - Sam Winchester: @supernaturalgrandma / @samfreakingwinchester /

[katsukikitten]

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, mentions of animal harm, sexual themes, god/fantasy au for BNHAREM this badboi is 8k so enjoy~

The sound of a wind chime echoes across the small field just outside your home. The breeze carries the smell of summer bloomed blossoms and with it the threat of rain as it comes from down the mountain. 

A soft brown creature catches your eye as your mother picks flowers and berries for the festival. 

“Bunbun!” You exclaim, pointing as you tug on your mother’s tattered kimono, she responds with a soft hmm. Her eyes still focused on the wide range of flowers although her vision blurs. 

But at least you weren’t picked for this festival, no it would be many years before you would be in the running. Your mother’s only wish was for you to be unfavorable. Mother is so engrossed that she does not see you slip away, slowly following the bunny into the forest. 

Soon the soft brown creature begins to hop, faster and faster as you giggle running full speed ahead. Not noticing how the trees thicken or how dark eyes seem to peer through the trees, their mawls salivating with unsated hunger. With gnashing teeth they stalk ever closer all the while you rush to catch the creature just for it to jump high into the air. Nose diving straight for the ground, you copy its actions but the bunny is faster than you. Slipping into the burrow with ease as you fall face first into dirt and rocks. 

“O..ow. Momma!” You sniffle, turning around for some much needed motherly love, but instead of your mother hunched over collecting boring things in her basket you are met with a dense forest. The setting sun washes over the trees giving the thick pines and maples a ghoulish red hue.  Suddenly you are hyper aware of the sounds around you, a stick snaps in the brush. Your head turns as if you were a startled deer, eyes wide, heart racing as you strain to hear over the rushing blood in your ears. Dark figures move in the long shadows and haunting laughs echo around you. Beady eyes shine in the darkness causing a small whimper to leave your lips. Acting on instinct you rush to your feet, running through the woods. Briers snatch at your small ankles, leaving angry red lines in their wake, wanting nothing more than to make you a child of the forest.

“MOOOM!” You shout, panting as they force you further into the mountain, you take a quick left when one jumps from the right causing you to trip over a branch falling into a small clearing, faintly you hear the rush of a spring.

Scuffling rouses a sleepy garnet haired man who lounges in a steaming hot spring, that’s sprinkled with fallen petals of mountain flowers. He thinks to dismiss it until a scream cuts through the serenity of the pines. Whatever animal it is, it sounds small and this stirs something in the mountainous man. Sadly this was the circle of life, he reminds himself as he sinks deeper into the burning hot spring. 

“MOMMA HELP PWEESE!!” You scream, trying to get up but this time you are entangled in a briar patch, thorn and vine twisting around your tender skin. It seems the wicked green plant will have its wish. 

All the while the shadows stalk closer, their bright beady eyes blown wide as their jaws unhinge for their meal. They get on their haunches to launch themselves at you until something causes them to freeze. The trees shake around you while the Earth rumbles as if there were a thunder storm beneath the rich dirt. 

“Hello little flower. Are you lost?” You whip your head towards the sound. Lip quivering as you stare up at a tall, built man. But it was his eyes that stood out the most. 

His glistening rubies glow as fading sunlight catches his hair, emphasizing that the strands are a red so deep one could mistake it as black. Your eyes play tricks on you as the air seems charged and yet calm, giving him a surreal aura. He stands tall, half relaxed as one arm is lazily hanging from his dark rose kimono while the rest of his sculpted body is exposed to the slowly cooling air. You weigh your options as best you can before you scramble to your savior. Clinging to his leg as your tears begin to stain his kimono. 

He breathes in deeply and before he can speak the dark figures vanish, melting into the shadows that stretch in the last winking light of the Sun. He crouches down to you, pushing hair past your face. 

“Don’t cry little flower. Here.” A beautiful flower crown appears in his hands. The  white petals with contrasting amethyst stripes down the center seem to have their own shimmering bio-luminescence making it feel other worldly as he places it atop your head. He chooses the dietes flower for its symbolism and rarity, unknowingly sealing your fate. 

“Is that better, little one?” You nod in response, sniffling softly as he scoops you up walking you until he can just see what must be your home through the thick trees. He watches what he assumes your mother to panic, as the village shouts what must be your name. 

“You’ll have to walk the rest of the way okay little flower?” He sets you down gently before you give a big nod. Cold bare feet crunching the leaves against the forest floor. 

You come into the clearing of your home, the sea of yellows, pinks and reds winking in the stark light of the moon. 

“Momma…” You call softly, the world stops turning on its axis before she rushes to you, pulling you into her arms before her eyes are filled with overflowing fear. Fat droplets leave her long lashes as she snatches the crown away, but it is too late. It has been seen by all. 

“Oh she is favored by the Gods.” Someone comments. 

“If she grows into anything like her mother she will be the best choice to appease the Mountain God!" 

"Let us mark this day and the family name so we may remember 16 years from now." 

They continue to gossip as your mother squeezes you tight enough that it hurts. Her mind racing as she carries you inside, she tucks you in without a word of a scolding. Coaxing you to drink some lavender tea that pulls you into a deep sleep beneath the symphony of crickets and the like.

You do not hear your mother return and if you do, you guess she is doing her nightly routine. Fluffing your blankets and making sure your futon is warm enough but what you weren’t expecting was the cold bite of a blade pressing into the flesh above your left eyebrow.  

"Mom…Momma’s sorry baby.” She chokes on her sobs as she pulls the cool metal hard and deep, crying so loud she can barely hear your scream.  

But that was how long ago? Almost two decades? You toss a rock into your reflection, distorting your marred face as your childhood flashes before your eyes. 

You remember there was shouting, lots of shouting of how you are now “unfavorable” “dishonorable” “an abomination” the next day and from then it’s a blur of insults and isolation. Nothing but the wind in your hair, the creaking of the trees and a dream of glistening rubies kept you alive, desperate to return to the last time you were happy. Although you were unsure of who you saw in the mountain that fated night, a part of you could guess. It had to be the Spirit of the Mountain, Kirishima. Because who else actually looked like the painted scrolls that littered the village and shrines? In your opinion they had his image all wrong. 

He does not scowl or wear a grimace, no his smile is sharp toothed and bright. You sigh, wondering if you will ever bump into him again. 

An inhuman scream tears through the serenity of the babbling brook causing a chill to run through your spine. If you had to guess it was most likely a fox or wolf finally catching up to its meal. 

“They must eat too…” You murmur to yourself, drawing your knees to your chest. The wind rustles the leaves overhead giving you sharp visions of beady black eyes from the past. 

“Don’t let it get away!” A shout from your left before the animal comes scurrying through the brush, running smack into your lap. It is a small fox, its tail missing and in its wake a crude weeping cut. Your vision blurs red as you take off your top layer of kimono, wrapping the poor thing in the brown fabric. 

The culprits come into view, the village elder’s son holds the tail while his favorite goon holds the knife. Red falls to the Earth in nauseating droplets. 

“Well well well, looks like we found something else we can carve up huh?” The goon asks with a smile, “Just keep quiet freak." 

The elder’s son is hesitant, something odd grows in his eyes and chest. Suddenly the tail feels a lot heavier than what it was moments ago, especially so under the weight of your single gaze. Your left eye although clouded over seems to stare straight into his soul. Can you see the desperation he has? Worst yet can you see how tainted he is? 

"Oi Kenji” The goon nudges him, clearly only hanging around the future heir for his influence and with it a hope of immunity to terrorize as he pleases. 

The motion brings him back to the present while a plan begins to form in his head. Would anyone believe the dishonorable, disowned freak over him? Could he do things to you that no matter how loud you screamed the truth it would fall on deaf ears? 

His cruel smile is an answer in of itself as he takes a step towards you, it wouldn’t be hard to make you his. You take a step back, mindful of the sun’s position and your surroundings. They both creep nearer as you hold the shaking animal to you, you turn on your heel rushing through the woods. They were fast and well trained however no one knew these woods like you did. 

It was as if you knew of every fallen leaf or broken branch as you rushed through the deep green leaves. Dodging low branches that they hit face first, holes they tripped in and even a dead deer carcass that you bound in a single leap. You hear a crash and one of them gag as your feet urge you forward, looking over your shoulder. 

That is until your run into something so solid you fall right onto your ass, the small animal gives a whimper on your lap. 

“I could have sworn…” The sound of rushing water swallows up the rest of your thought as you look up to what you’ve run into. Wholly expecting a tree stood a man, with deep garnet hair and a sharp toothed smile. Immediately your blood turns cold, the air about him seeming other worldly as the forest quiets and slows in his presence. 

“Ah, are you alright?” He asks, extending his hand to you, gingerly you take it. His calloused hand is warm and strong as he lifts you to your feet, ruby eyes staring at the bundle in your hand.

“May I?” Hesitantly you pass the bundle, he frowns at its contents before setting the small fox on the ground, waving his fingers to heal its wound. The fox looks at the healer, seemingly giving him a small bow before rushing back into the safety of the brush. 

“The fox told me what you did. Thank you.” His smile is blinding and dazzling. He offers you a single white flower, the amethyst stripe up the middle causes your stomach to tighten.

“Do you always give out good fortune?” You ask quietly, turning the wild iris over in your hand. He laughs, if he recognizes you he does not show it but you are sure this is the man who gave you an abundance of “good fortune” years ago. Your scar burns from the thought. Your mother did tell you stories of the Gods playing cruel jokes. 

But was Kirishima truly a maleficent God? 

You bit your lower lip. A warm hand cups your chin, a soft smile on his face as he turns your left side to you. 

“Do I know you dear heart?” His voice is soft, eyes half mast almost lazily gazing upon your features. You tuck the iris in your ear and it seems to jog his memory. 

“Little flower!” His voice becomes larger, sharper, as his thumb swipes over the deep fissure on your cheek “What happened?!" 

His touch is comforting but not enough you wish to relive the trauma again. 

"I wish not to speak about it.” Your eyes catch the position of the sun. Gently you step from his soft grip.

“I must return home for dinner before I cause my mother to worry.” You bow formally, presenting the flower “Thank you Kamisama but I cannot accept your blessing." 

You stand like that long enough your back begins to hurt causing a deep fear to flow through your veins.

Was he angry that you dared to reject him? 

Your feet burn with the urge to run but you dismiss it, finally his large fingers grasps at the small stem holding the rarity in his hands. Eyes roving over you, you peek up to check his gaze and while he looks level headed to you, you decide to leave before you find out if he isn’t. 

He stares after you, eyes curious and yet not surprised as to how he could have forgotten about someone as remarkable as you. 

But how could he remember? 

You are nothing more than a mere mortal and you were a child at that. A blip, a hazy day dream even, in his infinite lifetime. 

So what interest would he have in a life so fleeting that should he rouse from a nap he would be meeting your great grandchildren who could remember nothing more about you than your name? 

And yet when he looked at you now, as a full grown woman, something bloomed in his chest. Your scar adding to your mystic beauty, especially after what the fox had told him.  

His ruby eyes return to the flower as he ponders over your question in his head. 

A week or so passes, as you’re sure to avoid the Mountain God. Still fearing he may be angered by your rejection. 

But you cannot stay from the depths of the forest long. Staring down at your reflection in the water you sigh, running your hand through the cool water debating if you will bathe in one of the many hot springs tonight. A scurrying in the bush pulls your attention to the here and now. Muscles rigid as you worry it will be an encounter with the heir and his goon, shimmering orange rushes from the brush easing your mind. 

"Ah hello friend!” You call and the fox stops in its tracks, task or hunt at hand long forgotten, “Did His healing power work?" 

You cannot help the glee in your voice as you see your friendly fox sit near your feet, it swishes its tail and just like that another seems to appear. Wagging like an opposing pendulum beside the other. 

"You have two tails now, oh” You give a sly smile, “Are you here to steal my liver?" 

The kitsune chuckles at your joke, his little laugh echoing in the clearing. The haunting sound brings an odd comfort to you as he tilts his head as if someone is whispering to him. He gives a small nod before approaching, setting something in your lap that his black lips were not holding before. 

A note of sorts and the flower he attempted to offer you earlier. The note reads in glowing golden red hue,

"Let’s start over again. Tea by the blue moon wild flowers at midnight.”

You sigh deeply, placing the card and flower deep in your tattered kimono with the thought of not showing up.  Why would a God want tea with you? You who wears a scarred face and milky white eye. You give the kitsune a soft pat before standing, brushing the dirt from your deep brown kimono. 

You spend the rest of the day as you told your mother you would, picking flowers to both practice arranging and drying for the upcoming festival. There were only a few weeks left and you had done zero practicing as you has promised. Your mother claimed this would help earn your keep with the village but you were sure that was more for her peace of mind than the truth. 

With your basket heavy with the finest of flowers you head towards home, careful to avoid the path you last saw the God on.

And anytime you had thought you caught wind of his intoxicating smell of soft musk, pine and the biting threat of snow you turned on your heel as quickly and quietly as humanly possible, ignoring the gemstone gaze that bore into your back. 

After a small dinner with your mother and hours of twisting flower streams to make crowns of, you finally get the chance to lie down to sleep. 

But sleep doesn’t come, instead you’re wide awake as the moon leaks in the through the small cracks in the walls. Dust dancing on the low light as you sigh as if you were in love. 

Deep, unsatisfied and often. 

The invitation burns in the folds of your kimono and suddenly you are filled with action. Gently you rise, fumbling with your hair as best you can before you mumble curses to yourself. Placing a practice crown on your head and rouging your lips with the remnants of berries before you set out into the darkness. 

Your feet seem to guide you on your own as you weave through the trees. Fireflies lazily floating in the air as crickets scream their symphonies at your feet. Finally you come across the mostly hidden spot.

Hesitantly you step into the clearing, blue moon flowers glitter in the light of the quarter moon as if sprinkled with stardust. Their silver sheen invites you in further as a wind sweeps through the patch. Your eyes rove over as you look for the Mountain God. When your search comes up empty you feel your heart free fall into your stomach. Heated foolishness creeps into your throat and cheeks. 

Why would a God invite a mortal? 

Blinking away hurt tears you turn briskly, stopping yourself from running from the clearing incase he is watching for the sake of his cruel joke. 

That is until a deep voice rings out, vibrating the very bones in your body with a comforting hum.

“Little flower, Are we not having tea?” His tone is innocent and when you turn around with half a mind to fuss you see it. A beautiful hand woven rug that holds a low tea table, atop the dark wood sits finary. Foods, desserts and tea ware that would make the emperor jade green with envy. 

“This is…” You whisper but he reaches his hand towards you, gently guiding you to a plush cushion, his strong hand wrapped steadfast around yours. He waits until you are seated comfortably before he sits close to you. 

Almost too close, his shoulder could easily brush against yours in movement and it does as it takes you an eon to realize what exactly he is doing. 

Preparing the tea. Immediately your stomach flips as shaking hands fumble to stop him, grabbing onto his large hands with a fervor unmatched. A quizzical look before a sly smirk paints his handsome features. 

“A..a..a God should not be serving a m..mortal tea.” You trip over your words feeling self conscious as your palms feel is if they are sweating. Shame radiates through your chest as if a hot rod were shoved through your heart. 

“Then let us not be a God and a mortal.” He smiles, lips curving upward gently as his shining teeth glint in the low light. You should be scared, frightened that you may have insulted him or worse yet earned the infamous Wrath of the Mountain God. 

But you aren’t, if anything you’re on the complete opposite of the spectrum as the breeze shifts his scent closer to you. The forest alive at night, the sharp smell of snow mingling with the gentle fragrance of bloomed flowers. 

Suddenly you feel dizzy and his next words do not help. 

“Let us be more.” Again you feel the comforting hum in your chest, you decide now is a good time to let go of his hands. 

He sets the tea before you, again you are faced with a pitiful reflection. You blow on the green liquid disrupting the steam and with it your image. It is quiet save the sounds of late night summer although it is not uncomfortable silence that passes over the hours between the two of you. It is easy as the two of you sip your tea and for a moment you think you’ve forgotten the sin you’re committing by forgetting who he really is. Occasionally the two of you would share a laugh, his shoulder brushing against yours before he comes closer, close enough your forearms touch as they rest against the table. His skin feels warm and smooth like a rock baking in the sun, his smile dazzling as his face seems to get closer. His finger hooks into your palm, lazily tracing the lines as if they were an old and familiar map. 

“Why do you love the mountain forest so much?” His voice is so close you feel breath fan your cheek. Butterflies take rapid flight in your stomach. 

Was it that obvious? I guess it would be with how much of your life you spent within these thick trees. 

“There is so much to love in this place of solace. Every new clearing brings something of wonder. A waterfall, a field of flowers, a hot spring to soak your aching bones. Even just a small fawn grazing on the seeds the trees and flowers offer is more beauty than I can imagine." 

His fingers stop, leaving an odd tingling sensation causing your nerves to stand on edge. Attempting to reach towards the soft touch once more. Kirishima looks to the moon and how it begins to set. 

"Another day little flower.” He whispers, voice honeyed yet sharp as you find yourself standing on the edge of the woods, staring at your small home. You turn in a full circle and see no sign of the God causing your heart to grow heavy. Gripping at your chest as you make your way back towards your home, you thought maybe he didn’t like your answer. Maybe he read your honesty as a poor attempt of flattery. 

What you don’t know is that he liked your answer a little too much.  

It isn’t long before you find yourself in the same patch of flowers at a questionable hour sitting beside Kamisama himself. You swallow thickly, nails biting into your palm as again he pours your tea. 

Is this right? Would your mother approve?

You were sure she wouldn’t, and not from your lack of manners but seeing the very man she so feared and having tea with him nonetheless.

“Something troubling you my blossom?” Flustered over his familiarity you stammer out a response.

“Just…just thinking.” You offer a shy smile as he returns a wolfish grin, you do not know that he can hear just how fast your heart is beating. 

“Hmmm.” The hum rumbles in your own chest and large bottle flies take flight in your stomach. He brushes some hair out of your face so he can better see it. He smiles softly. 

“I’ve been curious about why you are collecting so many flowers lately.” Rigid beneath his touch you fear you have angered him but it won’t be long before you realize just how infatuated he is with you. 

“A festival for you Kirishima, Kamisama of the Mountain.” He lets his fingers play and twist in your hair. You try not to look away. 

“You’ll be the guest of honor then?” His fingers brush down your heated cheeks. 

Despite the intimacy of both his touch and proximity you give a loud laugh. Eyes looking at a blurred green version of yourself in your cup. 

“No, I’m sure I could never be favored.” At least not by the villagers. 

But you seemed to be favored by the Gods. You swallow thickly, of all the talk and importance of the festivals your mother never let you attend, so you are unsure what happens. 

While you’re left home alone you could hear the loud beats of the drum, their feet hitting against the stone of the square and their joyous singing. 

Sometimes you think you hear a scream. 

But you cannot reflect on it long as a pair of soft lips press against your cheek. Then when you do not move they graze along your jawline before finding their way to your pulse. You give a small gasp and when he gives a small suck you a raspy moan.  He growls against your throat, a sudden heat grows between your legs and you swallow desire whole. 

He feels how tense you have become and eases up from your throat. Guiding you by your chin so you may face him before he steals away your first kiss. 

Not that you would have given it to anyone else. 

The next month is a game of cat and mouse. Both of you eagerly seeking the other out, yet making it seem as if it were a mere accidently. All the while a now three tailed fox smiles knowingly.  It’s a blur of tea, mountain top views over valleys, and deep passionate kissing. 

But this last encounter truly was by pure chance for both parties. 

The pungent smell of sulfur tickles your nose, although this is the least offending spring. Its water a lovely milky blue that you’ve decorated with a few left over flowers heads. You sigh as you sink deeper into the borderline scalding water being sure to soak your aching hands and feet. 

You’re thankful that the rushing water settles here in this cluster of rocks despite the small current that carries it away just a few feet down. A sigh leaves your body, eyes lingering to the light of the full moon before they flutter close. Your guard completely down as you know no one is going to be wandering around these woods. 

It is the night of the festival after all. 

And no one was sure as hell gonna be out looking for you.  

Not even Kamisama as you were sure he would oversee the festival, it was held in his name was it not? 

Sleep threatens to pull you beneath its veil so much so you do not hear the footsteps that approach.  

He steps closer to the spot of his favorite spring and when he sees your head titling back onto the rocks, a fine blush blooms on his cheeks. 

“My little hana?” His voice is soft yet concerned, startling you. The water splashes around as you turn to face him. 

If you were flustered before you’re beyond that now. He has his back to you as he gives your privacy, face slightly turned but his eyes are not overlooking his shoulder. Your eyes widen as they take in His beauty. His hair tied up in a messy bun, winking blacks and deep reds beneath the moonlight. His broad shoulders exposed, eyes trailing down his sculpted back to see his bare buttocks. Strong, thick legs holding up this God of a man.  

Well he was a God wasn’t he? 

“Are you alright, lovely blossom? I didn’t know you’d be here I can come ba…" 

"No. No no!” You interrupt, “I…" 

It’s silent for a moment, lust moves your lips. 

"I wouldn’t mind the company.” Your voice is barely heard over the swirling, rushing water. 

But the smirk on his soft lips tells you that he had heard you.  And he will never forget the invitation. 

He turns to join you, your eyes following down the trail of his abs to his pointed V, you do not allow your eyes to travel further south and force them to his face. His glowing eyes bright, two shining rubies lighting up the night. He sinks into the water across from you, letting his arms spread and rest on the rocks. 

You release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Sinking into the water as you realize just how exposed you are.  The weight of his gaze is doing something to you. 

He keeps his eyes locked on yours, the heat of the spring makes you a bit dizzy and you’re beginning to wonder if it is his merlot eyes that have you on cloud nine. 

That have you so bold. Bold enough you float yourself beside him, right into the crook of his arm. He gently slides it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. 

“How was your day my sweet?” His voice is soothing but you’d rather not recount your day or the number of flowers you set just right. 

“Boring. Yours Kirishima?” He smiles as you use his name.

“Same.” He places a chaste kiss to your damp hair line. It leaves you wanting more. 

“A..again please?” He goes to kiss your forehead again but you tilt your face upward. He smiles, putting his hand at the nape of your neck. Leaning in impossibly slow holding your gaze. His look makes you impossibly higher and then his kisses your lips.

It is soft, it is slow, but each movement of his lips become more feverish, more bold. Like a cracked dam after a rain far too heavy, it is going to burst. 

And it does. 

Your mouth openes to him and he slides his tongue between your teeth, swirling and tasting your earthly, mortal form. You moan into the kiss, giving him more entrance, your hands clawing at his hair, his back while his hands follow your curves. Running up and down your sides, pinching at your nipples turning you into putty in his hands.  You do not resist, you would never deny him and you’re sure he would never take. 

He does nothing more than light exploring, commiting your skin to memory. You let out another moan, this one louder than before enticing his primal needs. As his tongue slides over yours his hand snakes to your lower back, pulling you into his lap.  

You feel his harden asset resting close to your throbbing sex. 

Would…would it be okay to bed a God? For a mortal to be touched by hands that can create and destroy in a matter of nanoseconds? 

Suddenly you feel too hot, too flustered, too high as the world spins rapidly on its axis. You push back, gasping for air and immediately his lust is replaced with concern. He sees tears forming in your eyes, signs of some internal battle. 

It reminds him of when he pours you a cup of tea but tenfold. He looks up at you, one hand traces down your spine before his other wipes away your tears. 

“Blossom for me when you’re ready not when I want you, my little flower.” His voice is soft, reassuring, causing you to cry more. His fingers gently trace your scar, follow your spine, and continue to wipe away your tears when needed. 

You nod helplessly, removing yourself from his irresistible lap, he pulls you to cuddle. A soft kiss to your hairline. The moon begins to climb higher in the sky and although your mother will not be home for some time, you still need to beat her home. Maybe he can read minds as he says. 

“Let’s meet later tonight? Our usual time after your mother has returned home?” You nod against his chest, slowly stand. He supports your weight as he holds onto your hand as you ease out of the comforting water. 

You look for your brown kimono but with every second you cannot find it panic seizes your bones. 

“M…my kimono. I…I can’t find it!” You realize you may have misplaced it or worse yet placed it too close to the water. 

Oh Kami did it get washed away? 

“Flower, love. It is fine. I can help.” He snaps his fingers and you’re adorning the most stunning kimono you’ve ever seen. More so than what any painting of any God and Goddess meeting you’ve ever seen.  You twirl in the ombre kimono. It starts out black, like a moonless night at the top before lightening until it is put glowing starlight at your ankles. 

“Its gorgeous. But it is too much." 

"Nothing is too much for you.” He stands, a kimono appears on his body as well, ombre again, black at his shoulders until it is blood red at his ankles. The bottom reminds you of the first time you had seen him when you were little. When he saved your life, a halo of setting sun emphasizing his status. 

“We will meet again?"  You nod and he cannot bring himself to say he is going to the annual meeting of the Gods because if he did, with you wearing this star woven kimono, he would whisk you away with him. 

"Until we meet again." 

With the sound of the window fluttering through the trees you find yourself on the fringes of the woods, just outside your home. 

Gingerly you step into the field of flowers, slowly walking towards your house as you relive the time you most felt alive. 

His lips, his hands, his body pressed against yours.

So caught up in your daydream, in your promise of later tonight, you do not see the eyes lying in wait. 

Those prying eyes take note of your kimono and how it shimmers and shines with an otherworldly glow as you slip into your home. 

It isn’t long before you hear a string of screaming and see a set of lights coming your way, close enough you can make out silhouettes and what the woman is screaming.

"SHE IS UNFAVORED! LOOK AT HER SCAR SHE IS TAINTED BEAUTY!” You realize quickly that is the wails of your mother. 

Frantically you try to strip yourself of your kimono but a large hand strips away the door. Your faces are illuminated from the soft glow by your ankles making it clear to see a set of hard steely eyes with hurt but never regret as they should. 

“Just like I said. A blessed kimono.” Kenji’s voice is as hard as his eyes as his father peers in, he smiles with delight.

“We are surely saved from the drought now. Kenji bring her to the festival." 

"No.” Your voice is small, a foreboding dread feeds your panic as your mother cries, restrained by Kenji’s goons. You step back but he lunges for you, squeezing you so tightly you cannot breath. 

The walk to the center seems like ages as you kick and scream, crying out for Kirishima. 

“Yes call for our God. He will be happy to receive his gift, time is running out.” The elder speaks. You elbow Kenji square in the face, everyone panics as you begin to run. Kenji catches you again.  The moon hands high over head, perfectly in the middle of the sky. 

“There is no time left. Let’s do it now!” Kenji’s goon from before shouts, sending the crowd into a boisterous agreement. 

Kenji withdraws his knife, both of your struggling for power. He leans in close, nose touching yours as the smell of copper and ash cling to his skin. 

“You should have just stayed in your place ugly. Should’ve let me have my way.” He slices at you and for a second time a blade marrs your skin. 

He is supposed to make this quick for you, one quick motion against your throat. Instead he lets the blade sink deeper, carve harder until his is splatter in your life’s nectar. Only you and your mother cry out. The rest of them pray and sing. 

Kenji picks you up and tosses you into the brush of the woods. 

“Have her now Kamisama and bless us with rain!” He speaks as if he is the current elder. Grey eyes cold as they look down at you.  They retreat to their usual planned activities, dragging your lost mother with them to drink to their heart’s content. To make her watch what an honor it was for her child to have been chosen. 

It hurts, Kami it hurts as you drag yourself through the woods. Briars tangle around your quickly growing limp limbs as you pull yourself deeper. 

“Kiri…Kirishima!” Your once loud screams turn into hardly more than whispers. But that shouldn’t matter. He should still hear you shouldn’t he? 

Was this not his domain? He can hear every rustling leaf, every snap of a twig, surely he could hear the pained cries of his lover.

No, no you shouldn’t call yourself that, you were not his lover, you were just favored by him. 

And isn’t that always what you wanted? To be desired? Loved? 

This was a festival for Kirishima himself so why did you think any different? 

And why do you still call out his name? 

Your vision blurs in purplish blues and blacks as you fade in and out, a soft sweet scent is tainted with stinging copper. You cough and more dark liquid sputters from your lips. 

It reminds you of his eyes. 

Kitsune comes into the clearing helping frantically. But you smile as you notice his fourth tail. 

“At least I will not die alone…” You breathe as the fox attempts to lick at your wounds, “Why, why is he so cruel?" 

Fat tears fall down your cheeks and the fox panics further. He opens his mouth, his voice comes out gravely and close to a growl without the animosity.

"Master does not know of this, master would never allow this!” He laps at your blood in a desperate attempt to heal you with what little grace he has been bestowed. 

But it doesn’t matter as your world fades to black. 

Kirishima steps through the portal near the top of the mountain to be met with a horrid sight, not realizing it could be worse than that. Kitsune’s normal Auburn fur is tainted a sticky black substance, Kirishima gets a closer look causing his blood to run cold. 

He appears in the field of flowers, following the trail you left as a wispy form of you stands through your drained body. 

“No.” Quiet before deafening loud, birds and animals flee away from him, “NO!" 

The shades circle the clearing, too afraid to enter but too hungry to leave. 

Kirishima shakily grabs onto your glowing hands, tears fall down your cheeks. 

"I…I…” Tears prick his eyes, rage washes over his features, “Who?" 

Your spirit cannot speak as you are still tethered to your fast cooling body. He follows the direction of your eyes, music and laughing become louder further angering him. A thought occurs to him, he reaches for the small golden chain that is at your spiritual ankle connecting you to your real body, he could keep you here, he could….but before he can break your life’s chain a mist of black appears. 

"You know you cannot do that.” From within the mist comes a man with the head of a raven or a tengu, Kirishima is not sure. All he knows is that he loathes to see Death come too close to the things he loves. 

“But.." 

"Look around you Kirishima-kun. You’ve tried countless times to keep mortals before and what becomes of them? Shades, unwavering, thoughtless hungry shades as I’ve told you. Their spirits are so far corrupted they could never return to the cycle.” Death speaks the truth but it does not stop the anguish that sweeps through his body. 

He cannot allow it just yet. He watches as your golden chain is unhooked, you walk backwards, keeping your eyes on your God as Death guides you. 

“Until we meet again.” It is a whisper on the wind, a rustle in the leaves, a huff of a nearby fawn and babbling of the hot spring. He nods, eyes glued to you as you fade away into the black mist. 

He breathes deeply as he picks you up, cradling your cold body to his hard chest. He walks gingerly with you as if he feared he would wake you, he only had on destination in mind. It does not take long before he is walking towards the center of the small town, houses darkened as the square is full of life. The smell of wine and food waft the cool air. 

This only fuels his intentions. 

He stands on the fringe of the crowd and it only takes a blink or two before the roaring party dies to deafening silence. People falling to their knees, their foreheads pressed into the bloodied bricks. 

“K..Kamisama Kirishima, had we known you would grace…" 

"SILENCE!” His voice shakes the very foundations of the homes, the shingles clinking in the wind. The trees quiver in his presence as the Earth seems to roar beneath his feet. His eyes are hard and dark like raw diamonds as he looks over their merriment shredding them with his gaze alone. The moon above suddenly glows red as if washed over with your blood, illuminating him in an ominous tone. The hue paints the village in eerie light as it fully bares witness to the wrath of the mountain God.  

“Is this how you honor me?” A rhetorical question as he wonders how long this had been going on, the shades most likely and happily, eating the remains before Kirishima could have ever found out. He shakes, unable to reign in his rage. 

“Look at her.” Three words, three words has well over fifty people shivering. Eyes barely coming up to look at the limp woman in his hands, skin already graying. Both eyes now clouded over and lips stained a peculiar red. Their eyes shift to the God they worship, the one they had been giving their most beautiful women too. 

He holds eye contact with each and every one of them for a moment, staring into their black souls with a malice that could maim. He spies your mother, his lip snarls as he thinks of your scar. 

He begins to wonder if this is why she had done it. He finds the elder, the one who wears the fine kimono. One of the few garments that is not tattered, dirtied or sullied red. He grinds his teeth. 

“May you never forget this moment in all of your reincarnations. May you never forget her face and may you always feel an inkling of what I’ve felt.” The people weep, not for their own lives but from the feeling of the God’s heart overflowing in them despite him never shedding a tear. They do not ask forgiveness. 

They cannot ask for forgiveness. Just as he sealed your fate all those years ago, he is sealing theirs now. With a stomp of his foot the Earth rumbles, slowly opening up into a jagged mawl. People scream as they reach for one another, grasping onto nothing. Only your mother waits for death silently. Her own tears streaming down her face as she etches into her last moments the sight of her failure. Of you taken from the world too soon. 

The village is swallowed whole and now that it is over, he is still unhappy. The void in his cheat is far deeper than the Earthy chasm before him. He cries out in anguish pulling you impossibly closer. A fissure runs through the ground, deep and fast through the next village and the one after that.

In a loud puff of smoke a man appears beside the mountain God, he pulls down his black hood and his hair shines gold in the moonlight. His eyes like molten lava gleam with destructive glee. The Earth threatens to crumble beneath the new God’s feet, the dark chasm glows a bright hot red in his presence. 

“No one ever strikes your ire.” His voice is dark yet excited, “And never enough to summon me. Need some pointers from the God of Destruction himself shitty hair?”

“Bakugou, I…” The mountainous man’s voice cracks, causing his friend’s brow to furrow. Bakugou takes in the sight of you withered in hands through ghastly means. Of the decimation and the level of it. Reaching over to another village and possibly the next two. This level of destruction would get the Mountain God into a lot of trouble but it was evident he did not care. Bakugou gives his back to the sight and finally speaks, lying a warm hand on his friend’s broad shoulder.

“If anyone asks, I destroyed the villages.” Molten eyes watch tears fall onto you and the ground beneath his friend’s feet. The golden haired man sighs, gently taking you from the arms of his friend who tries to desperately hold on to what is left of you. 

“It’s alright, it’s okay.” A rare comfort from his companion, he takes your small frame and turns. He is going to gently lie you in the cooling Earth. A destruction God destroys in order for something new to be created. He plans to give his only friend a blessed grave for you so he can visit until, what Bakugou hopes but heavily doubts, Kirishima forgets. 

“W..wait. wait. She needs…” His voice shatters as with shaking fingers he creates the very thing he had intended for you to have. Good fortune in the shape of deities or wild irises, circling one another to be a stunning crown. Instead of white they glow gold as he sets it atop your crown. Kirishima squeezes your limp hand a final time before letting you go. Bakugou breathes deeply as he works, pulling the ground back together with sheer force as the lava recedes. He does so until the two shelves barely meet, a rich bed of soil lies before his feet. Gently he lies you in the bed of dirt. 

“Ashes to ashes.” Your body ignites from within, glowing in a golden flame until there is nothing left but dust on the wind and the golden flower crown. Bakugou pulls the dirt over your remains.

Kirishima falls to his knees, pressing his hand into the Earth, fearful he will forget a mortal like you, a mere blip in his infinite lifetime. The ground beneath him bursts and blooms in great color. All deep reds, golden yellows and blinding whites for miles. 

“I will always love you my little flower." 

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The summer breeze feels warm as it rouses the scent of rain and the sound of chimes. You close your eyes and day dream of something long forgotten, of stories retold from an old book of legend you never read. Nervousness thrums through your veins as you stand beside your ash blonde friend, patiently waiting for the third party to arrive. The impatient man growls beside you as he spots someone he recognizes behind you. 

"Oi shitty hair hurry up! Iris and I have been waiting here all damn morning!” Bakugou shouts, using your hero name. You turn to see your new patrol partner for future missions. The sun illuminates behind him, almost giving him a heavenly glow and you realize that there is something odd about the man who approaches you. His long flowing garnet hair is unruly in the wind, shining a red so deep in hue you first mistake it for black. His smile is sharp toothed and easy, causing a swarm of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. With your heart hammering out of your chest you cannot shake the feeling that something seems off about him. It is both other worldly and familiar, you feel as if his name sits on the tip of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as his glowing ruby eyes drink you in.  He sees a faint mark traveling through your left eye as if it were a fading scar, maybe it was something you could not shake from a past long forgotten. His heart hammers in his chest as he speaks, your reaction to his next words will tell him what he needs to know. 

“Hello my little flower, it seems we meet again.”

[boneshine]

Jack Stauber’s “Opal” Theory

Last night, I stumbled across Adult Swim premiering Jack Stauber’s “Opal” and got to enjoy it in its entirety. I’m a huge fan of his work, and seeing his latest and biggest animation to date was quite the treat in this season of tricks!

I really enjoyed the lore and thought I would (try to) explain my personal theories regarding the story.

If you haven’t watched “Opal”, I highly suggest you do so. It’s available for free on Adult Swim’s Youtube channel. Go ahead. It’s quite the ride.

SPOILERS BELOW CUT!

The first time you watch “Opal” and the second time you watch it, the story completely changes. The atmosphere changes. The characters change.

What you thought was a surreal tale about a young girl exploring a forbidden house and being consequently terrified by the residents inside transforms into a story where a young girl suffers in a neglectful and abusive household and tries to escape into her fantasies to cope.

You’re led to believe in the beginning that the girl’s name is Opal and that the residents mistake her for someone named “Claire”.

At the end of the story, you realize that “Opal” is actually Claire.

“Opal” is Claire’s fantasy. She pretends to be this happy and bright girl on a billboard in the distance (Opal’s Burgers), surrounded by a family who love and “see” her.

The story begins with “Opal” sitting in her kitchen with a burger while her “family” (the family depicted on the billboard) sings to her.

We see you, Opal

Your troubles are miles away

We see you, Opal

And in our eyes you’ll stay

These lyrics are important because no one in Claire’s house sees her.

From the dialogue/lyrics, each character that Claire interacts with in the house showcases how they never truly see her.

The grandfather watching television is blind. (“And the girls are singin’. They dance too, I assume.”)

The father spends all of his time in the Reflection Chamber staring at himself. (“Why do people look at me like the way you probably are right now?”)

The mother is always intoxicated and lying in bed and sees through a drunken haze. (“Who’s that?”)

None of these characters actually see Claire, which is why she delves into a fantasy persona where she’s given positive attention and love and affection.

The fantasy portion in the beginning, I believe, shows that Claire spends most of her time at or on the billboard until she has to go back to the house to sleep.

In Claire’s fantasy, “Opal” sneaks into the mysterious house next door (which her Billboard Parents warn her to “don’t mind the house across the street”), but she hears cries coming from the attic and goes to investigate.

The realization at the end is that the cries are coming from Claire herself, and her inability to escape her abusive household as she’s locked herself in the attic.

Let’s take a look at the rest of the household in detail...

There are three other residents in Claire’s home, which are represented by the billboard: The Mother, the Father, and the Grandfather.

The Grandfather

Claire’s real grandfather is a blind, obese chain-smoking man addicted to television. He struggles to breathe, coughs up blood, and scolds Claire for hiding his cigarettes, claiming that “it’s evil to help someone that doesn’t need help”.

Claire appears frightened and nervous around him.

When he demands that Claire give him his cigarettes, he soon grows concerned that she “smells weird” (because she had been outside) and won’t say anything.

Due to his blindness (and possible dementia), he mistakes her for a stranger, panics, and lashes out, yelling at her to “get out of his house”. In his panic, he falls out of his chair and screams as Claire runs away.

The Father

As Claire continues on toward the attic, the Father stops her. He sits in his Reflection Chamber in the bathroom, surrounded by mirrors. He is unable to see anything but his own face.

(It’s implied that he is delusional, as you can supposedly see the Father’s True Face at 11:09, which is distorted, grey, and horrifying)

Claire appears perplexed by him. It’s obvious that she isn’t used to him speaking to her. However, it becomes apparent that he doesn’t truly speak to her, but rather projects his own insecurities and feelings onto her.

He appears to be extremely narcissistic and unaware of the world around him. Religious themes collide with his self-reflection, as he rambles and talks about how “God is in his skin” and he considers himself in the process of becoming the world’s next “savior”. He spends all of his time fixing his appearance because “they turn me down so I live my nightmare”, and his need to be “seen by somebody somewhere”.

When she tries to leave, he raises his voice at her, only to calmly remark that “you could spare me a little time, you know; you act like I’m a complete stranger.”

Which, to her, he most likely is.

The Mother

Claire’s mother resides in a dilapidated room, surrounded by wine bottles, pills, and romance novels.

She lies in bed (or on the floor) underneath the sheets and grabs Claire’s leg.

She speaks with a slur, heavily intoxicated.

At first, she doesn’t recognize her daughter, but comments that “you’re being a person today, huh?”, implying that Claire often spends her time away from the family-- and for good reason.

She speaks morosely and in confusing tangents that reveal her inner turmoil about the family and her circumstances.

“Goodness exists. If I wait, Claire, and sit still... it will arrive.”

“You should be more considerate, obviously, but I forgive you. I forgive every single one of you... every night. It’s a virtuous cycle.”

“How did this get so bad? I feel terrible for all the things I... I feel terrible.”

“You and I don’t live, Claire. We survive.”

“Our adversaries are in denial. They don’t know the wrong they do. And they never repent how I want them to.”

(To Claire) “And you, you’re just like me. You’re just as powerless as I am, Claire.”

She lies back into the bed and drunkenly sings a lullaby.

The Mother’s Song

Mama needs a little girl to land on

Mama needs a little girl to fall in her arms

Mama needs a Mama’s girl to take good care

Mama needs a baby girl to hold her hair

After this, the camera zooms into the Mother’s rolling eye and a flashback is rapidly shown, including a hand dialing 9-1-1 on a phone, a child(?) being struck and falling to the ground, and what appears to be the Mother (or, perhaps, the Mother’s Mother) screaming in terror (or anger).

This is either a flashback to the Mother violently attacking someone, or a flashback of the Mother’s childhood where she herself was abused.

(It should be noted that the side of the Mother’s head appears to have a dent, implying she may have been the child.)

Claire appears absolutely terrified in her presence, most likely having suffered before from her physical abuse and escapes as soon as the Mother lunges at her, fleeing up to the attic and locking the door.

The truth about “Opal” is shown, and Claire quickly surrenders to her fantasy in her mind as her family beats on the door, where the camera zooms out and the story ends...

In conclusion, the world of “Opal” is a sad tale. Its themes center on fear, neglect, isolation, and abuse in its many horrific forms-- physical, emotional, and psychological. It focuses on Claire’s escapism in her mind, to imagine a happier life, far, far away from those who hurt her.

A forbidden house across the street, filled with dark and foreboding figures, and a little girl that just wants to be seen and loved.

[tma-thoughts]

I wrote s5 Jon going back in time to s1 and smiting Elias, told from the perspective of s1 Jon. Also I couldn't be bothered to write the beginning or a sound ending so take this I guess

"Do you think you can beat me, Archivist?" Elias asks, a smile tugging at his thin lips. He steps forward, his eyes glowing bright green in the dim light of the Archives. "I know everything you don't."

At this, the Archivist huffs out a laugh, chuckling until it sounds more like a strained cry. "Is that supposed to scare me, Jonah?" He asks smugly. An eye opens on his forehead, then another on his cheek, then a cluster on the back of his neck, and others, surely, beneath his clothes. They all glow a bright, piercing green. Jon takes a cautious step back.

"I see you've learned some fancy tricks," Elias says, "Is that all?"

"Hardly."

"What do you think you can really do to me?"

Elias' words are heavy on Jon's ears. His voice resonates in the room, bouncing through his mind. The Archivist seems unfazed, though, and starts laughing again. It takes him a good couple of seconds to gather himself, like Elias had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard.

"Did you just try to compel me, Jonah?" He asks, his chuckle still laced throughout his words. "You should know better than that. You don't have power over power itself."

There's a shocked look on Elias's face, but his eyebrows furrow as it's clear he tries to hide it. He takes a protective step back.

"Do you think you can actually scare me?" The Archivist asks, "I've seen horrors unknown to even the Eye itself. You simply serve fear, allow it a vessel through which to feed. I am fear. I am the monster under your bed, I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the thing that watches you as you sleep. I plunge fear into the very hearts of innocent people while you are simply a leech, watching--always watching."

He steps closer to Elias, and Jon can see Elias' face begin to sweat. He'd only ever seen the man as cool and professional--if not incredibly boring. To think that Jon from approximately five years down the line could do something like this is almost too much.

"You strike fear by telling people what they refuse to believe. You make them See their mistakes, their pasts, their hidden truths. All you do is suck Knowledge like a vampiric leech and throw it back at your unsuspecting victims. But it wont work on me. I know the fear I cause. I know it more than anyone else, and it is the thing I understand most of all. You cannot surprise me with something I already know.

"You think you know the fear you cause, but all you can comprehend is the tip of the iceberg. I can make you understand. I can instill so much terror into your heart that your physical form cannot take it. I did it to the thing that stole Sasha, I did it to the goddamn Distortion, and I can do it to you.

"The Ceaseless Watcher is on my side. You feed it and feed it and yet it has never liked you. Not when you were Jonah, not now that you wear the face of Elias Bouchard. The Watcher obeys my every command, it Knows I am on it's level. Every fear knows I am on it's level, and they cower before my wrath.

"So do you want to go the easy way, or the hard way?"

Elias looks actually scared now, but if he's anything it's incredibly stubborn. "And what do those options consist of?" He asks.

"Oh come on, Jonah, do I need to spell everything out for you?" The Archivist replies, rolling his eyes (all of them). "Either I smite you off the face of the Earth or I grab the knife in the bottom drawer and stab you until you've properly bled out. Both, I can assure you, are extremely painful. Or, well, I can't really speak for the smiting as I've personally never been killed that way before, but I can infer from the screaming."

"What!" Jon exclaims, unable to keep his confusion inaudible. The Archivist doesn't answer him, though, and keeps himself focused on Elias.

"If I stab you with Gertrude's old knife in the desk drawer, it's almost like she's getting her revenge, but if I smite you, you'll be killed by the one thing you ever pledged loyalty to. Oh, the choices, the choices. What do you think, Jon?"

Jon jumps in surprise. "Uh, well, I-uh, I suppose that, um... the knife might be a bit bloody?"

"Ah, you're right," the Archivist says, "It'd be a pain to get blood out of the carpet."

He turns to Elias, who's sweating bullets. "Are you ready, Jonah?" The Archivist says with a sick smile.

"Now, c'mon Jon, this is crazy," Elias says, "You wouldn't actually kill me, would you? Of course not! Spare me, spare me, please!"

The Archivist doesn't listen to him, and instead all his eyes glow brightly as he lifts slightly off the ground.  "Feel the horror you cause, the feelings you plunge into the hearts of others. Feel it. Suffer it," he says, spitting venom from his words, "Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this putrid excuse for a servant and drink your fill."

The room seems to warp and bounce around Jon, and he feels like he's going through a bad high. Elias is screaming, but his voice is distorted in his ears. He might be screaming, he doesn't know. There's a loud ringing following everything, until finally, the world seems to come to a halt.

"Holy shit," Jon whispers, seeing the scorch mark burnt into the carpet where Elias once stood. He feels the Archivist's eyes on him, and whips his head around to look at him. The extra eyes are closing and fading into faint scars and stretch marks.

"I'm not smiting you, Jon, I'm not an idiot," the Archivist says, "If I kill you, I cease to exist. And I'd really rather find my Martin before that happens."

With that, he walks out of the Archives.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Hello! If requests are open, can I please request a scenario where Mori and Akutagawa's s/o (separate) is in labor but problems arise with the birth. The baby comes out safely, but s/o loses too much blood and is in danger of dying. How would the two react to a very real chance of losing the love of their life? Ending is up to you. Angst is just my main request. Thank you!! 😊

A/N : OOOOH I LOVE ANGST! What a great request! I Love this!!! Thank you love~~ I got slightly carried away with Akutagawas... oops! I hope you enjoy though!

T/W : Birth Scenario; Blood; Near Death Experience; Reader! Death; Angst; All Around Sadness;

Mori

You looked so beautiful, the lighting in the room illuminated your sweat covered features, but you continued to smile up at him, squeezing his hand tighter with every contraction. He never thought that he would be lucky enough to meet someone like you, someone who loved him even when everyone else thought he was evil, sadistic, manipulative, he could go on forever, but you saw the good in him. You brought out the best part of him, all the love that he had, the love that he believed he would never be able to give anyone, he was able to give it to you, and he didn't want to give it to anyone else... that is, until you told him you were pregnant.

Finding out that you were expecting his child seemed like a miracle to him. Having a child of his own, a child that would be part him and part you, it was a dream come true. Whenever he thought about his child he would get this silly grin on his face, gazing off into space as he imagined what they would look like, what they would be like, he already had his child's future planned out. This was the most exciting, and the most important time in his life.

"We're going to make a beautiful family, aren't we dearest?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. The doctors were in the room, checking to see how dilated you were, checking the babies heart rate, everything was going great.

"Alright Mrs. Ougai. Looks like the little one is ready to come out. Let's get you ready." The doctors had your legs lifted in the stirrups, a light shone down between yours legs. Two other doctors helped keep your legs back at the end of the bed, while Mori and the midwife stayed up near your head, holding your hands as you began pushing. "You're doing great! Let's get a deep breath, and then I want you to push as hard as you can. Let's get that head out!"

Being in the Port Mafia had brought you your fair share of pain, you had been shot, you had been stabbed, at least before you had begun your relationship with Mori. Those things, that pain, that was nothing compared to this. It felt like fire, you understood now why many people called it the burning ring, it was terrible. Not only that, it felt like your bones were being broken over and over, crushed, snapped, ran over by a tractor trailer, it was awful. "I see the head, dear. You're so amazing." Mori whispered in between kisses that he pressed to your forehead.

One more push and he was out. Your beautiful son, his head was covered in raven black hair just like his fathers. "Our wonderful Hideo is here. You did fantastic, my dear." You heard his voice, but it felt like you were drifting, but it wasn't from the exhaustion of the labor process... it's like... you couldn't keep your eyes open no matter how hard you tried.

"Doc! Doctor! She won't stop bleeding!" One of the nurses yelled, but for some reason you didn't seem to mind it. You weren't worried much about yourself now, you heard your son crying in the distance... he sounded so far away... you had done your job though. You had brought your son into this world, he was healthy, he was strong... that's what you were supposed to do. Your vision became hazy around the edges, it was tiring trying to keep your eyes opened, so you finally closed them. The last sound you heard was the distorted mixture of voices, doctors yelling, Mori panicking, your son crying, and the slow beeping of the heart monitor.

"Get the bleeding to stop!" He shouted to the doctors, still gripping onto your hand. His eyes were wide as he stared down at the doctors who were working vigorously to try to stop the hemorrhaging. Was he just imagining that your hand was becoming colder with each passing second? Were his eyes playing tricks on him or was he watching the color in your face slowly fade?

"Get the baby out of here!" The doctor yelled back to the nurses who were working on Hideo. This isn't how he pictured it would happen. This wasn't the perfect delivery he had pictured, that he had imagined and day dreamed about while laying in bed next to you. What had gone wrong? "The uterus isn't contracting! It won't stop bleeding!"

"She's losing too much blood! Dammit!" Mori wasn't squeamish, he had seen a lot of stuff during his time in the Port, but this was even too much for him. He had to look away as the doctors hand and half his arm seemed to disappear between your legs. He hadn't read about any of this, he didn't think there would be any complications, he hadn't imagined that anything like this could happen to you.

Doctors rushed in with multiple needles, he couldn't focus on what they were saying though. He was staring at your face, how is it that you still looked so beautiful while on the brink of death. Your heart rate was dangerously low, he didn't have to look at the numbers on the screen to hear how distanced the beeping was. He refused to lose you like this though. You were his, a part of him, you had a son together, life wouldn't be this cruel to him.

The doctors jabbed the needles into your arms, he understood now why they brought in so many though. "Dammit! Blew the vein! I need another one!" You had so many blown veins, Mori knew your arms would be a black and blue bruised mess when you woke up. He was sure that you would wake up, you had to.

While one doctor was elbow deep massaging your uterus, the other doctor worked to find a vein that wouldn't collapse when the needle went in. "Too many veins are being blown! We have to try something else!" He shouted. Mori watched as both the doctors nodded to each other before carefully injecting the needle into your abdomen, right into your uterus.

He tapped his foot to keep time, how long would it take for this medicine to kick in? The doctors had all stopped their practical assault on your feeble, seemingly lifeless body, now it was a waiting game. This was one game he never wanted to play again, waiting for you to come to again, waiting for the color to return to your body, for the warmth to come back. He was panicking, and although he would never outright admit it to you or anyone else, he was absolutely terrified. He couldn't do this without you, he wouldn't be able to go through life without you now. He wouldn't be able to look at his son without seeing pieces of you, parts of you that could possibly be gone forever. It would kill him. He always thought that power and money were the greatest things in the world, but now that he met you, those things were useless, pointless. All the money, all the power in the world were nothing if you weren't there to share in the glory with him.

"The bleeding is slowing! Pack it in! Come on!" The doctors and nurses worked tirelessly to get the bleeding to stop completely, and they finally got it done. You would be okay. It would take a little while for you to be completely okay again, you had lost a lot of blood, but you would be okay in the end. Everything would be okay. That's all that mattered to him.

Akutagawa

Pregnancy, becoming a father, it all terrified him, it was a foreign concept. He loved you though, his love for you was immeasurable. He would do his best for you, for this child... his child. How unfortunate for the little one, to have him as a father. That's what he always thought, but you were always there to comfort him, to tell him that there was no one else you'd want to be the father of your child. He didn't know much, well, honestly, he didn't know anything about caring for someone, especially a child. He could barely care for himself without your help, but you had promised to be there to help him, to guide him through it all. It's not that he was scared of hurting his child, he knew that he would never be capable of doing such a thing, not when he knew that the child was part of you as well. He was more worried about his child being afraid of him, that his child would somehow end up like him. "That wouldn't be a bad thing, Ryu. You're an amazing man. That's why I love you so much." You'd reassure him constantly, and over time, he started to believe it.

He would do anything for you, and the same goes for his child. He wanted to be the best man he could be for you, he wanted to be the best father for his child. Someone who his child could be proud of. As months passed he started to get... anxious? Excited? A mixture of both. Watching your abdomen swell with his growing child, it gave him a sense of pride. He had helped create that child. Maybe he wasn't as useless as people thought. He had gotten you, and he had been given the chance to build a family with you. He had stability, his walls were being broken down bit by bit, but in their place there was a strong foundation being built instead. He didn't need to wall himself in, instead he would build up his foundations around you and his child, his family. He wasn't worried about what others thought of him anymore, that was unimportant to him, he had you, and he had his child. Life was finally working in his favor. He found himself smiling even, thoughts of you holding his newborn child in the hospital bed as he watched over the two of you, it made his heart swell.

He sat in the armchair next to the hospital bed, his hand in yours as he brushed your knuckles with his thumb. Your eyes were so bright under the fluorescent lights in the room, you looked like an angel, the complete opposite of him. "Are you in pain, love?" He whispered, noticing the way your face scrunched up whenever you contracted. He felt stupid for asking, of course you were in pain, you were having a child. You still shook your head no in response, of course you would lie, knowing that it would make him feel bad, knowing that he was the reason for your pain.

"Ice please?" You asked between clenched teeth. He grabbed the cup, feeding you the small ice chips, adoring the way your lips pulled up at the corners as you chewed. "She's moving a lot, she's ready to come out and meet you, Ryu." You murmured, his eyes moved to your stomach watching the way your gown shifted as his daughter stirred around. He reached out to rub your stomach, feeling her kick again where his hand was placed.

"She'll be out soon. I can't wait to meet you either, Rei, my darling." He looked longingly up to you, his lips twitching up slightly as she continued to kick against his hand. How could he have brought about such a little wonder, a daughter, something so precious, so innocent, so pure. He was the opposite of all those things, yet he would become a father to a child that would be all those things and more. He would do his best to protect her innocence, to make sure that her mind stayed pure for as long as he could.

The doctors came in, prepared to begin the delivery. You were ready to go, and he was ready to have his daughter out, to hold her in his arms, for her to finally be there with the two of you. Your water hadn't broken by itself, so the doctors had to break your water themselves. "Wow, that's a lot of fluid... Alright, keep an eye on her. Let's go!" Akutagawa didn't understand what the doctor meant by that. Why would they have to keep an eye on you because of more fluid? He didn't get it. You seemed fine, you were breathing alright, just the way you had practiced with him while watching those lamaze videos at home.

The delivery was a success, your daughter had come out healthy, strong lungs, she screamed loudly when he had cut the cord, and she was still wailing as the nurses carried her away to be cleaned up. You smiled up at him, still holding his hand that had long since lost its circulation from how tight you were holding it, but he didn't mind. He mirrored your smile, staring back down at you, your eyes brimmed with tears, your hair matted and stuck to the sweat on your forehead. He loved you, he had known it before, but looking at you now, it felt like he had come to terms with the feeling once more, he was in love with you. He wanted you forever and always, for all of eternity, he needed you.

It had been twenty-four hours since your delivery. You were in the clear, you should have been, right? He had taken pictures of you holding little Rei in your arms, her head nestled in the crook of your neck. The smile on your face showed just how much joy Rei had brought you, and he felt the same way. Seeing you holding his child, his daughter, it ignited a flame inside of him, seeing the way you looked at her, it fueled this urge inside of him to always keep her safe for you, and to always protect you for her. His two perfect girls, his life wouldn't be complete, his heart wouldn't be whole without you and Rei. He couldn't imagine losing either of you, he would lose himself if it ever happened.

He was laying across the small couch underneath the window, his daughter in the bassinet against the far wall sleeping peacefully, you were sleeping just as soundly as she was. He cherished the way you and his daughter looked, he was in a state of bliss as he imagined bringing you and his daughter home, finally being able to relax and enjoy his family in the comfort of your own home.

Everything was silent, he was just beginning to doze off when the heart monitor started beeping rapidly. He shot up straight and looked over to you, you were gasping for air, clutching your chest, your eyes wide as you stared at the ceiling. Your mouth was hanging open, your breaths were short, raspy, he heard the rattling in your chest. He ran over to your bedside, grabbing the little remote the was hanging off the side pressing the call button repeatedly. "It's okay. It's okay, love." He pulled your hands away from your chest, holding them tightly in his own as he stared at the door.

Multiple doctors ran in pushing him out of the way, nurses were next to rush in, grabbing Rei and bringing her out of the room. Why were they taking her out? What was going on? He tried to watch through the wall of doctors that had surrounded you. He saw your body thrashing around on the bed, like a fish out of water. "She's seizing! Blood pressure is dropping! Come on!" You had stopped flailing, but your heart rate was also dropping. "We're losing her! Call code blue! Get the room ready! Go!" The doctor was shouting out orders to the other doctors and they dispersed. Most of them ran out of the room, others stayed around your bed, one was on the phone calling the code and shouting the room number over the rapid beeping of the heart monitor.

He felt... numb. Was he not allowed to be happy? Was there no silver lining? Would his happiness always be taken away from him? The monitor flatlined, he heard the doctors shouting, then the sound of the defibrillator being powered up. Your body rose and fell against the bed. The monitor beeped once, then flatlined again. "Another one! Lets go!" Why? Was he too happy? Was two too much? Was he not allowed to have you and his daughter? Life would never work in his favor.

Your body fell against the bed once more, they started doing compressions, anything to try to bring you back. He knew better though. You were gone. The life, the light had left your eyes. The sun couldn't compare to the light in your eyes, he loved waking up to see it every morning, and he wouldn't anymore. There would be no more lazy morning conversations in bed as he held you close, his fingers tracing the goosebumps that littered your skin. No more kisses against soft pink lips that were now a mixture of blue and purple from lack of oxygen. Your side of the bed would become cold, your shoes in the doorway would collect dust, your clothes hanging in the closet would slowly lose their color, but he would refuse to remove any piece of you from the house.

"Call it." The doctor rolled up his sleeve to check his watch. "Time of death, 10:47PM." He said, his voice was exhausted. They had worn out any attempt to try to bring you back, there was no time to get you to the operating room. They all turned to look at him, he didn't remember when, but he had at some point fallen to his knees on the floor. His eyes were distant, he wasn't looking at you, he wasn't looking at the doctors. He was imagining his perfect life, a life that had so quickly been stolen away from him.

One Week Later

He stood in front of the headstone, your name printed across the stone. His daughter was wrapped in a thick black blanket, held close against his chest. Gin stood next to him, her hand resting on his back. Rei reached out her tiny hand and he quickly placed his finger in her palm, letting her wrap her fingers around his own. He had brought his daughter home alone, he had laid her in her crib, watching over her without you there next to him. He had woken up every night in an empty bed to attend to her when she cried. He had changed every diaper, he had fed every bottle, he had done it all by himself. He had done his best to fill your shoes because you weren't there to do it with him, but he would make you proud. He would be the father you believed he could be, and more.

Gin grabbed Rei out of his arms before he got down on his knees in front of your headstone, his fingers tracing the etching of your name in the stone. "I love you so much. I told you I'd love you forever, and that will never change. Please, wait for me, my love."

A/N AT THE END : I am so sorry Akutagawa’s is so sad! He really does deserve to be happy. I love him. Reader passed from a Postpartum Amniotic Fluid Embolism btw. I’m SO SORRY READER! And to my lovely requester, I hope I fulfilled your need for Angst. 

[bonesaldente]

Ferocious I Darth Maul x Reader

PART II OF CALIGINIOUS

Chapter 1: An Unlikely Reunion

ao3

warnings: violence, you already know the drill

word count: 3900+

This directly connects to S5E14, 08:36 (Eminence) There will be a bunch of cuts in this chapter because of... reasons. You have been warned

____

Allies.

There is something extremely satisfying about the word which marks the first concrete step towards his ultimate goal of power. Power and… revenge.

These days, nothing drives Maul quite as much as his seething hatred for Kenobi, for the man who has taken everything from him: His legs, his future, and lastly, his one outlook on a life filled with more than just selfishness and hatred - a life spent with you by his side, the only person to ever make him feel something akin to… love?

He didn’t pinpoint the emotion back then, foolishly believing he would still have time. Sure, he had used the word, but never as his own feeling - when he dared use such a word, it was possessively, as all things he ever felt.

The difference seemed futile, up until there was nothing there anymore, nothing to love, nothing to hate, even. All there had been was himself.

“The Black Suns have their lair on Mustafar. We should-” Pre Vizsla’s attention is pulled away from the sentence he was in the middle of constructing and to a small group of people approaching from across the Death Watch camp. In their middle walks a woman, the only one not clad in Mandalorian armor, wearing a hood and an intricately composed mask that obscures the lower half of her face in the place of a helmet. The strategic placement of Mandalorian warriors around her makes it obvious she is not a member of the Death Watch and not entirely trusted either.

An expectant grin sneaks on Vizsla’s face, and the woman tosses a blood stained linen bag in his direction.

“His head, like you asked.” Her voice is leveled and distorted by a voice modulator.

“Never one to disappoint, are you?” Vizsla remarks, picking up the bag and taking a look inside, though Maul’s focus remains on the woman whose eyes are glued to him. It is not unusual for him to catch people’s attention due to his vibrant skin tone, but typically, fear makes them look away right after.

With a wave, the Death Watch leader dismisses the Mandalorians surrounding her and beckons her closer while pulling out a sizable pouch of credits.

“Your payment, like we discussed.”

Finally, the woman’s eyes move back to Vizsla.

“Next time, don’t ask for their head. It’s messy.”

The Mandalorian barks out a laugh and his seemingly constant amusement in non-laughable circumstances is already beginning to irritate Maul.

“Maul, allow me to introduce you; This is Spectress, a mercenary we hire to take care of the Duchess’ political friends; Spectress, Lord Maul-” Maul scowls in distaste at the Mandalorians borderline mocking use of the title, “is our newest ally.”

There is something unnerving about the way Spectress is staring at his face; the force is tickling the corners of his brain that harbor old memories of a time before Kenobi. Quiet voices whisper into his ear, ghostly fingers tracing his skin.

With his mind, Maul reaches out through the force, and all of a sudden the woman’s force signature hits him with the strength of a ship jumping to hyperspace.

The aura surrounding her has changed, matured, but its essence remained the way it had been ten years ago. When he looks into her eyes that are hardly visible under the hood, all doubt vanishes.

It is you - These eyes are the same ones he’s seen for a decade every time exhaustion forced his eyes shut, boring into the deepest corner of his mind and filling it with such longing, such yearning, that some days, he would try to use pain to keep them open, keep himself out of sleep’s tempting hands, for sleep brought the nightmares.

“Allow me to speak to this Spectress,” he briefly weighs the name on his tongue, “privately.”

Vizsla looks taken aback by his sudden interest in their accomplice, but complies and gestures to a vacant tent. “I will make the preparations for Mustafar, then.”

As soon as the fabric of the tent falls back into place behind Maul, you whirl around and force him to back into a table, pressing a knife to his neck.

“What kind of game is this?” Your eyes are wild, hood having fallen off in the maneuver. “I will not fall for some mind tricks!”

“There is no trick,” Maul’s voice remains calm, though he can’t cover up the small tremble in it as he slowly moves a finger to push away your blade at his throat, but you don’t budge.

“It is me. I survived Naboo and-”

“Impossible! I saw you die! I saw you die over, and over, and over again,” the pain in your voice is evident even through the modulator, and it sickens Maul to his stomach to think that he is the cause for your pain.

“Kenobi…” He can’t fight the growl that accompanies the name whenever he utters it. “Kenobi almost killed me, but I lived, discarded like trash, abandoned. But I made a promise to not leave you alone,” he stops when he sees your hand shaking and your head turn away from him.

Ever so carefully, he extends his hand to graze the small part of exposed skin right under your eye. “And I will keep that promise.”

Your wide eyes meet his, and your hand slowly moves to your nape, preparing to unlatch your mask, finally let him see the face he has been longing to see for so long.

Maul holds his breath, eyes never leaving yours, when suddenly-

“The men are readying for takeoff to Mustafar, we will leave in less than an hour time,” Pre Vizsla bursts through the entrance of the tent unannounced, causing both Maul and you to jump apart like you had gotten an electric shock.

“Vizsla,” Maul does his best to control his aggravation and not show just how much he would like to choke him in this very moment. “Might I propose a deal with… Spectress?”

He leads the man out of the tent.

“If we intend to utilize the underground for our machinations, employing someone with ties to the criminal world will be useful to us.”

“You suggest we keep her in our ranks?” The man does not look convinced.

Maul’s tone is insistent when he answers. “Now more than ever, it is crucial that our plans remain hidden from the eye of the republic. To ensure that-”

“She doesn’t leak information to outsiders, we keep her close to us where we can keep an eye on her!”

Maul’s eyes flutter shut in annoyance at being interrupted, though he forces himself to put on a diplomatic facade once more.

“Precisely.”

~

An offer like the one Pre Vizsla is presenting you with right now is not something that would ever be appealing to you - under normal circumstances, that is.

You glance at the man who claims to be the person you’ve lost a decade ago. There are questions swirling around in your head, doubts that you have yet to eliminate; you are not convinced that Maul might actually be alive, and, furthermore, stand right before you. But at the same time, you have no way of finding out the truth if you leave now, so perhaps, a more permanent position among the Death Watch would be an adequate exception to your rule of complete independence - solely a means to an end, of course.

The Mandalorian still looks at you expectantly. He doesn’t understand your dislike of allegiances and commitment: The man praises nothing above honor and the way of the Mandalorians.

“With an appropriate compensation for my efforts,” you accept, “that can be arranged.”

~

The flight from Zanbar to Mustafar is not too short to make you regret your decision to get more involved with the Death Watch - yet. The ship is also not big enough to get the privacy you need to confront Maul, if it really is him. All you get are stolen glances from across the cockpit and more questions in your head that is already buzzing from the events of the day. Who is the second zabrak and why, in the name of the maker, is he so big? You’ve met enough zabraks to know that they do not grow much taller than human males do, and this one exceeds the height of seven feet, almost hitting his head when he entered the ship before you.

Your fingertips tickle with the naive desire to truly reunite with Maul; in your head you know it could still all be a trick played on you by Darth Sidious to lure you out of the hideout your identity as Spectress has become. In your heart, however, you can only see the man you’ve missed so, so much that your heart still hurts just thinking about the first few years after his supposed death.

The ship lands on the uninviting planet with a dull thud and immediately, Maul leads the way out along with the other zabrak and Vizsla.

“Wait,” you speak up, causing them to stop in their tracks.

“I am familiar with the Black Suns and I have a reputation among the crime families. If I speak to them, they may be more inclined to listen.”

Vizsla crosses his arms in front of his chest, but nods eventually. You can’t help but search Maul’s gaze, and it’s only after he steps to the side that you pass them and take the lead in approaching the Falleens.

It is clear they are hostile, just by the amount of men they have gathered in front of their castle.

“A battalion, brother,” rumbles a deep voice behind you. Brother? That would explain some things, though you still wonder how Maul would have been able to find his family, if he never even knew who they were, let alone where they were. But this is a mystery to be unraveled at a later point in time, as you now reach the Falleens.

“We wish to speak to your leaders,” you declare loudly over the sound of the Mandalorians’ jetpacks. Through the modulator, your voice always sounds more certain than you yourself feel, covering up small trembles and certain emotional inflictions.

The man chuckles darkly. “It’ll be your funeral.”

You tilt your head. “We’ll see.”

He leads you to something akin to a throne room, dimly lit, just like the entire planet.

You post up at the very front of the small group, enjoying the look of recognition that flashes over the Falleens’ faces.

“Mercenary… Why do you come here?”

Maul speaks before you get a chance to reply. “We seek an army.”

“Fools. We are none of your trade,” he gestures to you condescendingly.

“My trade,” you start insistently, “knows a good deal when it sees one.” You wait for the words to sink in before you continue. “And cooperation will be your best option.”

The man only scoffs, foolishly ignoring your advice.

“Dispose of them, keep their ships and weapons. Give me that one's sword, and I want her mask hung on my wall.”

Your group does not falter and the yellow zabrak picks up one of the approaching men, throwing him onto the long table, while Vizsla points his blasters at the other.

Menacingly, the men around the table start rising from their seats. Before you know what is happening, a hand- Maul’s hand - wraps around your wrist and pulls you to the floor with him, thus allowing the other zabrak to throw his lightsaber - double bladed, you note - effectively decapitating all leaders except the one standing closest to you.

Once the weapon has returned to his brother’s hand, Maul pulls you back up, the gesture reminding you of the times you’ve been sparring with him, and going even further back, when you first agreed (against your will, back then) to work with him.

You gulp down the emotions and refocus your attention on the last Falleen in the room.

“Congratulations, it seems you have been promoted,” you comment coolly. “The decision is up to you.”

The man looks three shades lighter and slightly nauseous, but he forces a diplomatic smile.

“After careful consideration, we will join you.”

~

Flying back to Zanbar is a… much more pleasant endeavor than the flight there. The first steps toward the liberation of Mandalore are taken and the few other death watch warriors on the ship are visibly content with the success of the mission.

You, however, have the incessant urge to space everyone aboard, just so you can finally, finally, get a word alone with Maul. It feels so very unnecessary to act like you were strangers just to keep up an image, when you thought him dead less than 24 hours ago.

If only the ship had even one room that allowed for some privacy… How could you be so fortunate and so unlucky at the same time?

When you depart the ship, Vizsla looks like he is about to try and engage Maul in yet another conversation, but you decide you have waited long enough.

“Lord Maul, a word?” You quickly cut in.

The Death Watch leader raises his eyebrows in surprise, but you sign for Maul to follow you.

There is hardly a place that isn’t bustling with Manalorians, but you know where they won’t be.

A small sigh of relief escapes you when you see the familiar metal of your ship and you finally face him once you’ve made it to the ramp.

You take a deep breath, then push back your hood, practiced fingers easily finding the familiar latch. With an almost inaudible hiss, the mechanism holding your mask in place releases and you push it under your chin.

His eyes widen, but you don’t let yourself soak in his softening gaze.

“Explain.” You demand, unmodulated voice sounding strangely raw even to your own ears.

His mouth opens but it takes a bit until actual sounds come out.

“I… it took nightsister magick and my brother to find me. And even then, I was - I was damaged, hardly functioning. Mother Talzin repaired my mind,”

“When?” You interject sharply, selfishly feeling neglected when he was alive all this time while you were busy mourning, hiding from Darth Sidious as well as the Jedi who saw your face on Naboo, and then having to survive as a criminal in the outer rim.

Sincere eyes never leaving yours, he responds.

“A month or so.” You bite down on your trembling lip, wanting to remain vigilant but unable to stop your suspicion from disappearing.

Maul still stands at exactly the same distance as when you started talking, so as to not scare you off, you presume, but now you stupidly want to close that distance.

You notice that his hand is shaking when he slowly reaches out and, at last, grazes his gloved fingertips against your cheek.

“Believe me, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I -” You are interrupted by a loud clunk from the ramp.

Already, you know who it is, but on instinct you still spin around with your blaster raised.

Staring back at you with wide eyes is what looks like a reflection of yourself some years back.

You look back at Maul, seeing the way he freezes upon seeing her.

“Is that… that’s not … Is it?”

For a moment you don’t understand what he is getting at, but then it clicks in your head, at about the same time that the young woman behind you understands the implication.

“You guys were- Oh, no no no-” She waves him off, cheeks tinted red.

“Loa,” you point at the girl, “Is my sister. I tracked her down some time after… Naboo.”

The girl still stares at Maul for another moment, before she picks up the crate she was carrying earlier.

“I was going to stock up on supplies,” she says meekly, “so I’ll just … leave you two, and… yeah, I’ll just go.”

Moving down the ramp, her body is shaking with a cough that pulls at your heartstrings.

Your face must have betrayed you, for when she is out of earshot, Maul asks:

“Is she sick?”

Your eyes flicker to the ground while you try to find the words to explain her condition.

“She was a slave in one of the spice mines on Kessel before I found her, and she’s had breathing difficulties ever since. And sometimes, she gets very weak, or faints.”

You despise the pity in his eyes. “But she is strong. I’ve taught her to defend herself, and she has grown up to be a remarkably cunning, honorable woman.”

“She must be,” he mumbles, “With you as her teacher.”

~

Maul is unsure of how to interpret your actions. Do you still yearn for him the same way he has been longing to be with you again all this time? Or have you moved on from your past, including your time with him, and outgrown the need for his companionship?

He wants to run his fingers along your face, that, while more mature, still looks exactly how it appeared in his fevered dreams on Lothor Minor, safe for a few small scars here and there. Your eyes still hold the same intelligent sparkle that they did ten years ago, but now something else, wisdom, perhaps, lurks behind them as well.

How does one proceed under these circumstances? Maul is a refined schemer, a crafty intriguer, but matters of the heart are not his forte, and understanding emotions other than rage and resentment is not something he was ever taught - or even had a desire to learn. Until you, that is.

His thought process is cut short when the deafening sound of several ships approaching the Death Watch camp catches both of your attention.

“Those are Pyke ships,” you remark with curiosity and Maul catches himself staring at your face instead of the ships.

“We should probably…” You trail off and he snaps out of his immobility.

His hearts ache when you secure your mask once more, already missing seeing your full face when you speak.

~

The Pykes joining his army this easily is a welcome surprise, and so is Pre Vizsla’s sudden keenness to further the assembly of it.

The Hutts, however, evidently aren’t so eager, which the knife floating inches away from his head indicates.

Bounty Hunters start closing in from almost every direction, and a shootout ensues. Maul watches you in the corner of his eye, ready to use the force to pull you away from any danger: With no protective armor and unable to block the blaster bolts, he worries you might be at risk, though a quick observation proves the opposite to be true; bodies fall to the ground all around you, and your movements are quick enough for shooters to fail at targeting you.

Still, the growing number of enemy fighters forces the small Death Watch squad to retreat to where their reinforcements are waiting.

The Mandalorians do a decent job at pushing back against the bounty hunters, but a sudden attack from the ceiling catches Maul off guard and pushes him to the ground. Two bounty hunters attack from their hide, one accompanied by an Anooba that instantly jumps onto Maul, causing him to drop his lightsaber.

He attempts to wrestle the beast off him, but its snapping jaw restrains his mobility severely, even rendering him unable to retrieve his lightsaber using the force, until through someone else, the Anooba is sent flying through the air with a pained squeak. He looks up, only to see you already fighting the zabraki woman that started the sneak attack.

Both you and Savage are gaining the upper hand over your respective opponents, prompting them to throw a smoke grenade and run away. Savage makes a move to pursue them, but your raised hand stops him.

“There is no benefit in going after them, the bounty hunters have no allegiance.”

Pre Vizsla sheathes his own saber, that very despicable smirk plastered on his face. “But you do?”

Maul follows your gaze as you look around the cave, surrounded by bodies, many of them sporting wounds that obviously stem from your weapons.

“You tell me.”

The Mandalorian laughs out, then proceeds to move back to speak to the one Hutt that hasn’t managed to escape.

Making him talk is an easy feat, as was to be expected from a Hutt - put a lightsaber to their neck, and they sing like a bird.

After disposing of the slug-like creature, some of the Mandalorians still busy themselves with looting the dead bodies, something that is not necessary anymore now that they have an army and resources, but years of living hidden must have caused this instinctual reaction. Maul’s feet automatically carry him over to where he sees you around a corner wiping your blade, distanced from the others.

Once you spot him, your eyes scan the surroundings, then you pull down your mask. Every time you do that, Maul swears he feels his hearts stutter a little bit - a strangely physical reaction for a man usually so in control of every cell in his body.

With your sleeve, you wipe off a few blood splutters that are nothing in comparison to your attire which is covered in several stains of blood as Maul notices upon looking closer.

“That is … a lot of blood,” He remarks.

“Not mine,” you counter, and the situation reminds him so much of Cato Neimoidia that he loses all previous inhibition. Finally he closes the distance between you and crashes his lips into yours, crowding you against the wall. The feeling of your lips is familiar, yet so surreal as they move against his with the same fervor that he is feeling. One hand tangles inside your hair beneath the hood, the other sliding up and down your sides, wanting to memorize every little dip and curve of your body before he loses you again.

A small gasp escapes you when he tugs on your hair, allowing him easy access to your mouth, uncaring of the growing need for air and relying purely on his force abilities to warn him before someone sees the two of you.

“You’re taller now,” you mumble against him in the small time frame that you break away to catch your breath.

“You don’t seem to mind,” he retorts just as out of breath as you are, ecstatic that you so clearly still want him when your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in again.

“I missed you,” you breathe right before reconnecting your lips with his, and he tries to tell you the same with the way he kisses you back.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind that is intoxicated with you, he senses a person coming closer, forcing him to pull away and signal you to put your mask back on should you not want your face to be known by others.

He steps away from you not one second too early; his brother rounds the corner the moment your mask is fastened with a quiet ‘click’.

“Brother, we are ready to depart in-” He does not finish his sentence, eyes flicking back and forth between you in an attempt to interpret the way you are standing a few feet away from each other awkwardly. It’s only now that Maul sees that your hood is almost off entirely, exposing quite ruffled hair. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he calls upon the force to lift your hood over your head further.

“We will be there momentarily.”

____ 

notes: YAY, FIRST CHAPTER! And this time, I even have a plot prepared ... Is it good? I don't know. But do I have it? I sure do. I hope you liked this very, very chaotic first chapter. I'll try to keep the majority of the story separate from actual clone wars episodes so that I have a little more freedom and not as many jumps in time, but to be honest I really wanted to start out during 'Eminence', so that's that. There will be a few POV changes in the next chapters as well, but it will mostly be you!

Comment or message anytime if you want to be tagged!

@princessayveke ; @spaghetti-666 ; @noiralei ; @larawl ; @secretnerd00 ; @bagpipes606 ; @zabrak-show ; @brilliantbutbatty ; @eleine-t1d 

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Laito Maniac [Prologue]

Monologue

I thought very deeply,

about what should have been put inside the Tin Woodman.

Was it a heart? Or perhaps,

something a little different? When I started pondering over said question,

I ran into a certain problem.

No matter how much one may deny it,

from the moment we exist into this world as humanoid beings,

we are fated to think.

Well then, where is the mind (1) located?

‘The brain’, one might say.

However, I think it might be the heart instead.

At the innermost core of the hollow chest,

lies the heart, continuously beating,

as if it’s advocating once existence.

Is this the mind? ー Is what I believed. 

ー The scene starts with a flashback in the entrance hall

Laito: ( Trouble has arrived...These are Lord Richter’s footsteps...The echo of well-polished shoe soles... )

( ‘Lord Richter’, despite being that man’s sibling, he’s such a foolish, pitiful younger brother... )

( For one, his affection towards her - the wife of that man - might just be his jealousy towards the latter? )

( He believes he has won over Karlheinz, simply because she accepted his feelings towards her... )

( It’s so blatantly obvious. He’s a disgusting narcissist who thrives off a distorted superiority complex... )

Richter: Laito?

Laito: ...It’s been a while, dear Uncle.

Richter: Pardon me? Are you incapable of even greeting someone properly?

Laito: ...What do you mean? Get off my case.

Richter: Try and give me a bit more of a suitable greeting. It seemed like Cordelia was horribly hurt over it.

Laito: Heeh, that woman...experiencing heartache, huh...?

Richter: Exactly. She vowed to accept you out of her own love for you.

Laito: ...

Richter: Oi, are you listening!?

Laito: No need to shout, I can hear you.

( ‘Love’, huh...? For some reason that sounds like a big hassle. Whatever... )

So, is something the matter with that?

Richter: ...!? What’s with that tone!?

ー Richter punches him

*THUD*

Laito: Ugh...Why would you do that...? Fuck...That hurt...

Richter: My heart aches...As if her pain is directly handed down to me...

Laito: ...So why are you so desperate, Uncle?

I don’t get it at all. ...What does it mean for ‘ones heart to ache’? I don’t understand.

Richter: That should be obvious, no? It’s because I love Cordelia.

Laito: Love...?

Richter: Because I love her, I want her to smile. It is only normal to feel that way.

Laito: ...Does such a thing really exist though?

Richter: ...What are you implying?

Laito: ‘Love’ and such. It refers to feeling strongly for someone from the bottom of your heart, right?

Richter: ...Why would you ask if you already know the answer?

Laito: ...Because I’ve never seen it, obviously. Nfu~

( That woman is no different, nor is he. ...Love is nothing but a load of crap. )

( In the end, it is just being substituted for some sweet words. )

Richter: I do not care about your opinion on this matter. Drowning in carnal desires and reaching for the highest peak of pleasure will not gain you anything.

Laito: Hah, ironic for a secret lover to preach that.

Richter: ...

Laito: Listen, Uncle, you may spout these words you believe to be ‘righteous’ one after an other, but you reek. (2)

Richter: Laito...!

Laito: Face the things you are doing. If you truly believe that is ‘love’, then you truly are beyond saving.

Monologue

ーー Just as I thought,

love is nothing but a fraud, huh?

If this heart wriggling inside my chest is the mind...

then it really is something dangerous.

One creates the convenient illusion of ‘love’ to suit my best interests.

And then feeds it to others to trick them.

It is the very definition of a hazard.

ー The flashback ends as the scene shifts to the hallway

Yui ( ...I’m glad we were able to retrieve an antidote from Reiji-san but...I wonder what has gotten into Laito-kun...? )

( He said he felt thirsty but if that’s the case, he could have just sucked my blood... )

( But no matter how you look at it, drinking poison is just messed up... )

I wonder if he still hasn’t woke up...?

*Knock*

Yui: Laito-kun...?

*Knock*

Yui: ...I’m coming in?

ー She enters the room

Yui: ...Huh? Laito-kun...?

( He’s not here...? Then where could he...? )

( The window’s open...I wonder if he stepped out on the balcony? )

ー The scene shifts to the balcony

Laito: ...

Yui: ( Laito-kun...? I wonder what’s rong? Seems like he’s lost in thought. )

( His expression is uncharacteristically serious... )

Laito: Hm...? Oh, it’s you, Bitch-chan.

Yui: ...Wha’s wrong? You look rather serious...

Laito: Eh? What do you mean? You’re talking as if my usual self isn’t serious.

Yui: That’s not what I meant though...

Laito: I was remembering the past.

Yui: The past...

Laito: Say, Bitch-chan. This is a question I’ve been pondering over but...Where do you think the mind lies?

Yui: ...Eh?

Laito: Could it be the heart after all? Or maybe, the brain? Which one do you think?

Yui: ...Why would you ask?

Laito: Oh come on, just answerー While I’m still being my unusually serious self, okay?

Yui: ...It’s tricky but...I think it lies in one’s heart.

Laito: The heart, huh...?

Yui: Yeah. I’m sure the brain is the actual correct answer but...Still...

I believe that what actually suffers and aches is the heart for some reason.

Laito: Which means that your feelings are actually...hers?

Yui: Eh...!?

Laito: I’m not wrong, am I? Your heart isn’t truly yours after all.

Yui: ...Right...But...

Laito: Mmh.

Yui: ...It’s hard to explain but my mind is my own.

Laito: You must be very certain to be able to say that so decisively?

Yui: ...Yeah...Do you think that is...a shame?

Laito: Eh? Why?

Yui: ...Eh? Because...This heart belonged to Cordelia-san after all...

Laito: Ah, that’s what you mean.

Whether it is hers or not, in the end it’s just an organ. It doesn’t matter who it originally belonged to.

Of course, I’d never be able to fully forget about her...

I mean, you can’t forget about your daddy either, right? It’s the same thing.

Yui: That’s right. It’s family after all...However...

Laito: If you just said yourself that you are nobody but yourself, that solves everything.

Yui: ...Laito-kun...

Laito: Well, I can understand why you would want to be conscious of her though? Nfu~ 

Yui: T...That’s not what I meant...

Laito: However, there’s really no point in pondering over that. Said problem won’t be solved until you rip out that heart of yours.

It’s true that your blood is delicious because of it though...Nfu~

Yui: ...

Laito: If you don’t like that, why not remove your heart? I won’t stop you. If you do that, both your mind and blood will truly be yours, right?

Yui: But, then I’d die...

( ...Laito-kun wouldn’t bat an eye even if I died... )

Laito: Don’t underestimate me, okay? If Richter managed to carve out her heart and transplant it inside of you...

ー Laito steps closer

Laito: I’ll rip out some other human’s heart, and bury yours inside.

Yui: Eh...?

Laito: I want your blood. ...Yours, okay?

Yui: ...L-Laito-kun...What’s up with you...? You’re acting...kinda off...

Laito: Nfu~ I wonder...? I was just wondering if the blood flowing from your body would be delicious, you see.

No matter which heart is pumping it through your veins...Haah...No good...Talking to you made me...

*Rustle*

Yui: Laito-kun, are you okay!? Aren’t you still in bad shape...?

Laito: Say, Bitch-chan...What are you to me?

Yui: Eh...?

Laito: A ‘someone’ giving me delicious blood...?

Yui: Even if you ask me to give it a name...

Laito: When I...look at you or talk to you, there’s something wrong with me ...Haah...Thoroughly parched...as if I’m drying up...

It’s as I’ve been thrown into the middle of the desert by myself, aimlessly wandering around the scorching heat...

Yui: Laito-kun...

The effects of the drug might still be lingering. Do you want to have Reiji-san look at you one more time, just to be sure?

Laito: Haah...It’s been like this...even before that...It’s hot...Aah, I want your blood...More of it...

*Rustle*

–> If you are playing the Limited V edition or the Grand Edition, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Nn...Exactly...Don’t fill your head with unnecessary thoughts. All you need to do is entrust your body to the pleasure like that...Mmh...Nn...”

Yui: ...!?

Laito: Say, consider this? The things I’ve been saying up till now, perhaps...

I spoke those words because I am craving for your blood? ...Nfu~ ...Haah...It’s no use, I can’t hold back...

Let’s do something pleasurable. This is the only thing...Which isn’t a lie after all...

I’ll be taking it...from this arm...

Yui: Ah...!!

Laito: Nn...Nn...Nguh...

Yui: Uu...

Laito: Haah...Nn...More...I want more. Bitch-chan...

I’m craving you like this so...Please...Haah...I’m begging you, don’t spout nonsense about ‘love’ or ‘affection’. 

Yui: ...

Laito: Snap to your senses...That’s all a fraud. You’re only being told to believe that, as a replacement for something else...

In Bitch-chan’s case, it’s just a substitute for desire as well, isn’t it? For wanting this, am I right?

Yui: Haah...

Laito: I won’t let you say I’m wrong, when you’re making such a lewd expression...

Don’t try and sugarcoat it by calling it something like ‘love’...Haah...

...Nn...Nn...Phew...

Yui: ( Is that so...? Is this pain in my chest, actually my own desires...? )

( I don’t know...For some reason, I’m only even more confused now... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) There’s an important different between 心臓 or ‘shinzou’ which refers to the physical heart, the organ, and 心 or ‘kokoro’ which is used to imply one’s mind, spirit, soul or even feelings. 

(2) In this context, the word ‘kusai’ which means ‘smelly’ or ‘stinky’ is meant as in someone being suspicious. 

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<- [ Dark Epilogue ] [ Maniac 01 ] ->

[miminorenai]

Chapter 1

— The fruit of Underworld, pomegranate. *In mythology, the goddess who ate it unknowingly is destined to live in the land of the dead.

(*In Ancient Greek mythology, the pomegranate features prominently in the story of Persephone and her marriage to Hades, the god of the Underworld. Hades kidnapped Persephone and took her to the Underworld to be his wife. Persephone’s mother, Demeter, goddess of fertility, considering her daughter lost, went into mourning and thus all things on earth ceased to grow. Zeus, Persephone’s father, commanded his brother Hades to release her, however Hades had tricked her into eating six pomegranate seeds, and it was the rule of the Fates that anyone who consumed food or drink in the Underworld was doomed to spend eternity there. Since Persephone had eaten the six pomegranate seeds, she had to remain in the Underworld for six months of the year. Hades agreed to release her to the world above for the other six months of the year, to be reunited with her mother.

So, don’t let that person eat pomegranate fruit. For the sake of that person — so that he won’t be taken away to a place where the light of the ground doesn’t reach.

— The night of crescent moon that wandered into a mysterious mansion of the 19th century from the Louvre Museum of the 21st century. 

Someone in the room attacked MC and bit her on the neck......the dream she had was terribly vivid.

Prologue Chapter 7 (official translation)

MC “......Just like a vampire would.”

MC “Dreams can be so realistic, even when they’re about the most unbelievable things.”

Sebastian “......”

MC “Thanks for listening to my silly dream.”

MC “I hope you don’t think I’m crazy for dreaming about vampires.”

Sebastian “I don’t think you’re crazy, nor do I believe it was just a silly dream.”

MC “You don’t think it was silly?”

Sebastian “No. Indeed, it’s a good sign.”

MC “My bad dream is a good sign?”

Sebastian “I believe you saw that dream because you’re here in this mansion.”

MC “You’re not making sense.”

Sebastian “The dream serves as a warning.”

Sebastian “......That you are to give them neither your body nor your heart.”

MC “Them?”

Sebastian “The residents of this mansion. For you see, everyone you’ve met tonight —“

Sebastian “They are exactly what you saw in your dream. They are all vampires.”

— A month after Sebastian informed MC with a serious look.

(Tonight, Comte said the hourglass sand would completely drop.)

(It’s finally time to say goodbye to this mansion......)

Under the bright sunshine, MC stops drying the laundry and gazes at the mansion and garden fulls with blooming flowers.

The residents of the mansion are revived great men in history, and all of them are vampires.

MC was surprised when she heard that, but everyone accepted her, who was so anxious and bewildered.

(Before I know it, I’ve come to like this mansion so much that it feels lonely to bid my farewell.)

MC “After this, I won’t be able to take care of everyone or serving pancakes anymore.”

As MC feels helplessly lonely and loses in thought —

MC “......Ouch!”

Suddenly, MC is poked in the forehead and she immediately covers it with her hand.

Sebastian “You had a fluff on your head, so I brushed it off.”

(Sebastian......!)

MC “Thank you. Is there a dandelion somewhere in bloom?”

Sebastian “It’s a lie.”

MC “A lie?”

Sebastian “Stop being absent-minded, and please stretch the wrinkles of sheet properly.”

Sebastian “For quite a while, it feels like you’re flying to somewhere else, similar to a fluff.”

MC “Uu......I’m sorry.”

(He’s without restraint as ever......)

Sebastian is the only human among the residents of the mansion, and a Japanese who came from the same modern era as MC.

For the past month, MC has been helping him out as a colleague, and he’s considerably strict regarding his job.

MC “I’m really sorry. While thinking today is the last day I could help, I end up feeling sad.”

Sebastian “It’s certainly written all over your face.”

Sebastian lets out a small sigh without changing his expression.

Sebastian “Once you’re over with this, considered your job today is done.”

MC “Eh, but, I still have to prepare for dinner.”

Sebastian “Today is your last day in the mansion. You’ll need time to sort out your feeling.”

Sebastian “And tonight’s meal is special.”

MC “Special?”

Sebastian “It’s a dinner party to see you off, so I can’t let our guest of honor to help, right?”

(I am......the guest of honor......)

When MC blinks her eyes in surprise, Sebastian voice becomes softer......

Sebastian “For the past month, you’ve been trying your best in this unfamiliar world. Thank you for your hard work.”

(Sebastian......)

MC chest tighten hard to the tender words and the sign of farewell that shown through.

MC “I was able to do my best......thanks to Sebastian.”

Sebastian “Huh?”

MC “I......I knew nothing about this world, this mansion, the matter of living with all the vampires......”

MC “I had Sebastian to teach me that.”

Without Sebastian, MC might still be confined in her room in anxiety.

(I’m really glad Sebastian is my colleague.)

(That’s why, if I can work with Sebastian until today......I still want to work together.)

MC “I’m grateful for your consideration. But a job is still a job, so I want to finish it to the end.”

MC “More than anything, please let me help Sebastian.”

Sebastian “......”

Sebastian “What a good dedication. That’s exactly what I expected of my junior.”

With a sudden smile, Sebastian starts walking with an empty laundry basket.

Sebastian “Please follow me. Without holding anything back, I won’t let you cutting corners until the end.”

MC “*That’s what I want! By the way, have you decided on the dinner menu?”

(*望むところです - bring it on, just as I was hoping for

Sebastian “Yes. On top of grilled pork with mozarella cheese, we’re going to have wine braised beef tongue.”

Sebastian “There will also be saffron-flavored sea bream terrine, boiled rape blossoms with soy sauce, firefly squid with ponzu sauce and rich mango pudding.”

(The sense of Japanese-Western blending is amazing! But all those dishes mentioned before me are delicious.)

MC “I’m looking forward to it!”

With a smile, MC follows after Sebastian, who walks in dignified posture.

After that, she spends her last night with everyone in the mansion......

After the dinner party, the residents are gathered in front of the door to see MC off.

Napoleon “Mimi, take care of yourself even when you return to your original world.”

Mozart “You’re rather careless, so don’t fall over and get injured before you could arrive.”

Arthur “Hey, are you really going back? You haven’t go on a date with me yet.”

Theo “It’s a wise decision from hondje. If you go out with this guy, you’ll get eaten from the head in an instant.”

Dazai “Toshiko-san, please stay healthy without catching a cold when you go back.”

Isaac “Dazai actually said something unusual and decent. But yeah, be careful not to get sick.”

Jeanne “Yes, physical condition management is important at all times.”

Vincent “Mimi, I really enjoyed spending time with you.”

Leonardo “The coffee mia cara poured was pretty splendid, you know?”

Comte “It seems very lonely to part with Mimi when everyone is here to see her off.”

(That’s......for me......)

As MC covers her face when her eyes turn hot, Sebastian hands her over a handkerchief.

Sebastian “Mimi, this.”

MC “Sebastian......I’m sorry I’m such a handful colleague to the end.”

With the handkerchief she received, MC bows her head while holding back her eyes that moist with tears.

Sebastian “It’s not a colleague’s guidance. I don’t think I can leave you alone with such a face.”

(This is really the last time we could talk this way......)

(Since Comte is the only one who can come and go freely through this door.)

MC “I......I’m glad to meet everyone.”

Sebastian “Look, you’re tearing up again. Please wipe it firmly.”

Comte “Don’t hold back too much. I’ll send you off at Louvre Museum.”

MC “Please, Comte.”

(Let’s go back to the original world before I’m feeling even reluctant to part......)

Comte “Well then, I’ll open the door.”

Comte slowly opens the heavy door.

Beyond that —··· instead of the corridor MC went through a month ago, there’s a distorted space spread out.

(Eh......is it different from before?)

Everything is breathtaking, as the ominous light and darkness mixed together.

MC “......If I’m not mistaken, when I came here, I was lead to a dim corridor, right?”

Comte “Supposedly, since I came through that passage in 19th century.”

Comte “What in the world......it’s the first time the passage across space and time has disappeared.”

At the bizarre scene, Comte pulls MC back and hurriedly shuts the door.

Leonardo “Hey, Comte. What’s going on?”

Comte “I don’t know......but if we enter such space, I can’t predict which era it will drop us.”

(Then, I......)

Isaac “Like this, Mimi can’t go home then?”

Sebastian “......It will be for at least a month.”

Theo “The door that was closed once would open again a month later.”

A worried look from everyone tells MC the seriousness of the situation.

Comte “I’m sorry, Mimi. I’ll look into the cause.”

Comte “So can you stay in this mansion for a while?”

MC “...Yes......”

MC squeezes out her trembling voice and manages to hold it.

(I didn’t know such thing would take place......I wonder what will happen after this.)

The next day, MC begins to live in the mansion again, and she’s still working as Sebastian’s assistant.

MC “Sebastian, I’ve finished washing the dishes. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Sebastian “Thank you for your hard work. That’s all for today’s work.”

Sebastian, who silently polishes antique silver tableware, look as calm as ever even in this situation.

MC “......Something unexpected has happened.”

MC “The truth is, I shouldn’t be here anymore, and yet......”

(The surprise was bigger yesterday, but it gradually sinks in.)

(There is a possibility I could never go back to the world I thought I could return......)

When MC thinks to that extent, she get scared again and almost get swallowed up by anxiety.

Sebastian “I’m happy to work with you again.”

MC “Huh......”

Sebastian “It’s good to have manpower. Above all, you’re an excellent junior.”

(Ah, is that what he means?)

Sebastian smiles with a composed look much like a butler.

Sebastian “I’m sure you’ll find the solution, since everyone in the mansion and I are here for you.”

Sebastian “And also, did you forget? This is a rare situation where the great men of history are all gathered.”

Sebastian “There’s no impossible letters in this mansion’s dictionary.”

MC “Haha......”

MC reflexively smiles and feels less anxious.

(Right, let’s just not thinking only about the time I couldn’t return.)

(As Sebastian says, I’m not alone, and it would be all right since everyone is there.)

MC “Thank you very much. I feel uneasy, but now I’m going to try my best with my life in the mansion.”

Sebastian “That’s a fine dedication.”

Seeing Sebastian narrows his calm eyes, a question suddenly pops out in MC’s mind.

MC “Come to think of it, Sebastian has been here for a long time, don’t you?”

Sebastian “Yeah, time passed in the blink of an eye.”

MC heard that Sebastian, unlike the other great men, came to the mansion as Comte’s scout and became a butler.

(In other words, he hasn’t return to the original world since then.)

MC “Sebastian......have you ever missed your home and thought of wanting to go back to the present-day?”

Sebastian “......”

Sebastian “No. Placing myself among history is something I couldn’t hope for.”

Sebastian “I — since I abandoned this world myself.”

MC gets confused by his indifferent reply.

(What do you mean by throwing it away......? What’s the matter with your family and friends?)

(But......perhaps it’s something that he didn’t want to touch much.)

MC “I’m sorry for the sudden question. Errr......that’s it, I think I should keep the kitchen tidy!”

The moment MC put her foot on the stepladder and reaches out to a high place to beat the awkwardness —

MC “Kya!”

She loses her balance and her body slants a lot. 

(I’m going to fall......!)

Sebastian “Mimi......!”

(Huh?)

Sebastian “······——”

As soon as MC body is caught, something brushes against her lips.

Something that is warm and soft ···—

(Just now......)

When MC raises her face in the sudden moment, their gazes are entangled at a distance where Sebastian’s nose is sticking close to hers.

MC • Sebastian “......”

While both of them falling down to the floor, they stare at each other without looking away.

(Just now, Sebastian and I......)

They might have kissed —

The moment MC realized it, the heat gathered on her face.

(How careless of me......!)

(But Sebastian......)

The body that has been pinned under, the arm that surrounds MC’s back......

It looks slender and firm with the feels of masculine.

MC strangely conscious of the warmth that touches her without a gap, and Sebastian’s eyes which’s reflecting her......

Sebastian “Mimi —“

[talesofsonicasura]

Spooky Gratitude

A little girl gives a gift to an odd creature on Halloween night. Years later, the creature returns to show it's gratitude on a day that was promised disaster.

Halloween, a day where people celebrate the times of magic, mischief and monsters. To dress as monsters, play innocent pranks, carve pumpkins to light up the night as magical jack o' lanterns and grant delicious goodies to those who say the magic words of the Halloween Spirit: Trick or Treat.

One particular town had a very special cryptid that only appeared on the night of this spooky holiday. An odd doll with a carved pumpkin for a head that wandered the streets. Trick or Treaters who passed the odd being often found extra candy in their bags. If they were good hearted, these spontaneous treats were tasty and delicious.

Those who were naughty however, ended up candy that tastes like their most hated food from broccoli to even liver. They called this oddity the Halloween Jack, after the Pumpkin King himself. Strangely, no one had ever tried to offer a treat to the cryptid. No one knew what would happen if the Halloween Jack was given a treat. Well until now.

A little girl was skipping down the sidewalks with joy in her step. It was a star filled Halloween Night alit with the sound of doorbells ringing and the cheer of childish 'Trick or Treat'! This little girl had locks of blond and eyes of bright sky blue. Her costume was a black witch's hat paired with a purple dress lined with black, frills, little white stockings to little black shoes, and a little wand topped by a pumpkin.

She carried two separate buckets in her hands: a pumpkin and cauldron. Her small plastic cauldron contained a good chunk of chocolate and mixed candies. The plastic pumpkin one strangely had the same but the inclusion of freshly wrapped Halloween cookies. Blue eyes looked around at the various houses and the treaters at their door.

The little girl was about to go to her next house when something made her stop. It was a small child who strangely didn't have a bucket of goodies like her and other children. His costume consisted of a light beige bodysuit with a small green cape around the neck and a jack o' lantern on his head that had axe through part of the top as yellow looked through the eyeholes.

She never saw a costume like it before. It looked so real and well made that it had the child baffled. How come someone with a nice outfit doesn't have any candy or treats on a Halloween night this lively? Blue eyes looked over at the orange bucket in her hands before looking back at the oddity.

Yellow eyes soon turned to the sound of skipping getting closer until they met a kind blue. "Hello. I love your costume. It's pretty cool but I noticed you didn't have a bucket. You can't go trick or treating without one." The little girl then held up the orange bucket in her hand. Yellow eyes widening upon the gesture made.

"Take this one. Everyone should be able to enjoy Halloween. My name is Eva. And I hope you like the treats." The little girl smiled brightly at the pumpkin headed being. Yellow lights curled into akin to a smile as the cloth covered hand took the bag. "I'm Pumpkinmon. Thank you."

Years later, the little girl known as Eva grew up. She never saw the child called Pumpkinmon after that fateful Hallow's Eve as the memory slowly faded with age. The child soon blossomed into a beautiful young woman of two rambunctious twins. Children whose father was an actual demon known as Sparda.

Sparda was hated by his kind for protecting humans and even mating with one. On one fateful night, his enemies decided that he should pay for his treachery. A night that was promised sorrowful spill of blood but…

"Vergil! Vergil!" The voice of a crying mother echoed through the forest night. Feet running in important haste belonged to an older Eva. Her short blonde hair now long and lovely, chubby face smoothed in a beautiful and caring one, and little body now a lean, elegant and curvaceous wonder. Red coat fluttering with the wind of urgent steps as she made way through the wooded path.

Her oldest son was in danger. They had a fight and he ran away to his quiet place, a playground at the edge of the forest. None of them were aware of the monsters that would attack them tonight. Her youngest son Dante was hiding in the closet but Vergil was in the open. She had to find him.

Eva immediately stopped when something large had blocked her path. It was a monster, a demon. The vile beast resembled a pale lethargic phantom cloaked by a long tore black cloak, a blood red scythe in hand. She instinctively took a step back when four more of them appeared around her in every direction.

Eva wasn't blind to the killing intent well aimed on her being. They wanted vengeance in blood and flesh. These demons wanted her dead. Her and her children. "Let me through you bastards! I won't let you lay a figure on my babies!" She hissed with fury, uncaring of the claws or blades that could rip her to pieces.

Picking a stone, she chucked it at one of the Hell Cains before her. The item whacking its head earning a baleful roar in utter rage. All of them moved their scythes to the side, every bladed staff in position to bring down a fatal slash once they were close. They were ready to lunge, ready to reap this woman's soul until…

"Trick or Treat Wallace!" A suave distorted male voice ripped through the air. A wall of pumpkins manifesting around the defenseless woman as the reaper demons charged forth. These pumpkins immediately exploded upon contact with the abominations turning all attackers into pumpkin scented ash.

Eva, who was unharmed, could only blink in grateful surprise. Someone or something had just protected her but who? "Mom!" The cry of a young boy rattled her thoughts with hopeful tears. Running from the woods towards her was a little boy with eyes of blue and slicked back hair of white. "Vergil!" She cried as she embraced the child who ran in her arms.

The young mother and son whispering soft apologies to each other while they sobbed in an emotional hug. "I believe this young man is yours." The male voice from before had both Eva and Vergil turn their heads at the source. Older blue widened in surprise at a very familiar sight.

Standing or floating before them was an odd being. A 12 ft daintly lean man in a luxurious long coated purple trim white tuxedo decorated by golden pumpkin shoulder pauldrons, a green cravat by his neck, purple downward angel wings hung from the back like a scarf, a black top hat with goggles sat delicately on a horned jack o' lantern head and in his hand was a cane topped with a bat winged pumpkin.

An old memory dug itself out from the deep reaches of her mind. Of the little child with a pumpkin head on that Halloween night. The one who she gave a bucket full of treats as a child. "Pumpkinmon?" Eva questioned, her words riddled with surprise, joyful remembrance and hope.

The figure let out a soft kind chuckle as the little boy Vergil sat confused in his mother's arms. "I'm NoblePumpkinmon now. I have grown since that fateful Halloween, just as you blossomed into a beautiful mother. Your kindness that night had blessed me with what I needed to bloom myself." He held up his hand as a well aged but familiar plastic pumpkin bucket appeared.

She could only look at the bucket with a smile from that special memory. The day she realized that there were mysterious wonders in this world they lived in. "I couldn't let the one who granted me kindness lose their life without us meeting once more. Your other son is waiting for you, dear Eva. I hope your family prospers with every Halloween." The bucket then floated over to two.

Eyes widened from the various candies, toys and baked goods held inside as Vergil's hands took the black handle with wonder. "Goodbye Eva. May we meet again someday." And with those words said, NoblePumpkinmon flew up into the sky before disappearing into the darkness.

One year later, upon their return the Sparda Manor had been magically repaired overnight. That night, Eva told the tale of Pumpkinmon to her children but also her husband who miraculously returned that very same day. He also had some assistance from a 'pumpkin headed angel', which made the woman smile warmly.

She never knew that her gift to the strange being that night when she was a child had spared her family from a nasty fate. As time went by, the woman didn't see any signs of NoblePumpkinmon. Maybe he returned back to his home, wherever it was.

Tonight was Halloween once more, the house was strung up with decorations but also charms to ward off any unwanted guests. Eva's sons were getting the last touches of their costumes done with help from her husband. Dante was going as a vampire but Vergil's costume was a bit special. His outfit was based on the very creature that saved them last year, NoblePumpkinmon.

The only difference was instead of wearing a pumpkin head, the pumpkin bucket that was returned had been painted to look like the head instead. A sight that only warmed the young mother's heart. Eva was checking on the pumpkin pie that was in the oven when the doorbell rang throughout the house.

Being curious as it wasn't time for Trick or Treaters yet, she walked over to the door. Eva didn't expect what she would see upon opening the door but she would be lying to say if it wasn't welcomed. For standing on her porch was someone she hoped to see again.

NoblePumpkinmon had returned but he had two friends with him. They looked like what he was on the day they first met, Pumpkinmon but one had an orange scarf and the other had a purple ribbon instead of little green capes. "Trick or treat!" Eva couldn't help the small chuckle that came from her lips.

"I thought it would be nice to visit you once more but with my family this time. Halloween is a time for friends and family to share in delightful tricks but also delicious treats after all." The smaller Pumpkinmon cheering in agreement upon their father's words.

"Well come on in. I got a pie baking in the oven. Plus, my family has been wanting to see you again." Who said good friends can't be made on Halloween much less a miracle? For it was this holiday that a family survived the most disastrous night of their lives.

And it all started with a little girl giving a bucket of sweets to a mysterious being with a pumpkin for a head on Halloween night.

And that's it! Eva and Sparda are alive. Today is Halloween and I wanted to write a little ficlet for it. Pumpkinmon and NoblePumpkinmon sounded like the perfect thing to use in this particular situation. These Puppet Digimon are created from data that embraces this spooky day of the year so they are also the kind to repay kind gestures on that special day too. Hope you guys have a great Halloween!

Tagging: @astral-space-dragon , @synchronmurmurs , @buns-with-a-book , @sakkajagga , and @queenmuzz

This is Pumpkinmon and NoblePumpkinmon. Not my art btw.

[sensessences]

So how my perfeccionism and a ultra-angelic sense of self, tied to an idealization of the self kept me from self growth. This is all exploring of ideas, like a sandbox to try to understand things better. Judgement is a big word. It is very common and I feel like because it is so ubiquitous it can be overlooked - which is harsh since it works, and often is symbolized, by a balance, by a sword. Lately I've been really keen on the idea of the obvious and how the obvious is precisely what is true, so true it gets overlooked and dismissed. At times, if not forgotten then it gets even negated. These ideas come in conflict to me often in the form that, upon beggining a critique or judgement, I cut myself short to mirror it to myself. Some would say, and they are not nearly fully wrong, that it's a good and smart move for self-awareness and communal care. Instead of pointing fingers to someone surrounding me, I lift the finger and in the like of a spasm reaction, I direct it to myself. Not in the equal form of, what I suspect on the other I turn to be suspicious of in myself, but in an egalitarian form of a hint - what is it that I feel suspicious of in the other person that traces, and maybe begins in myself? I hold close to myself that I can't vouch for others and can´t take responsibility for their actions, mistakes and growth, therefore I just try to translate it to myself. But alas, I loose the train of thought. Maybe for better visual perception it is the dynamic of branching the trainrail instead. What should have been to continue on the trainrail branches into two, and my wagon just simply goes off on a different direction. Where does it get me? It makes me a traveler, a wide, experienced traveler with no true destination, the destination is endless and when looked at from a macro-perspective, probably non-sensical. And maybe that´s what it is. My brain developed a very complex and structured sense of values, that does have a bit of a sacrificial nature but I thought to myself, there is always more sacrifice that can be done. And at the end, that is always good right? It will always amount for more 'good' when it goes to others than to a form of the self. This is also with direct, essential influence of my childhood and, not only the consequential difficulty to hold others accountable (and folllowing supporting arguments) but the inner shame and belief that it all can be summarized into my own shame, inadequacy and wrong-doing. Which, by trying to redeem all external "evils" to myself, doesn't truly expurgate much and turns to an ugly but thus (maybe not) unnoticed truth: maybe... a self-absorption of sorts. Thinking of others and the greater good so often not only is regressive but its also hindering. While writing this I also nearly spiraled into a self-questioning mode of paranoia, where I asked 'what is all of this even for then? some unpriority, privileged problem of conscience?' of which I think is another problem. These thoughts are not exclusive, these fears and even actions - I think because we can't gauge existence (of ourselves, our thoughts, others, their thoughts) we make a judgement within our reach and get to conclusions that, wanting them or not, are in a way a denial of certain things. I just wonder if there is a way to be about a truth without being in a denial, since attention (independently of want, and more because of definition and biology) have a more singular, atomistic nature to itself that is in disagreement with all else if in a light but essential way. A paradox of attentiveness - in order to focus on something we must neglect all else (not in an absolute manner!). And I think all of this points out also mistrust. Mistrust of the process, and of ones own thoughts and character. Which is funny, cause in my values I saw it (or tuned it?) into a good thing. Like a self-praise for self-awareness, but of which actually distorted things way beyond their nature. Kind of like, if you stare continuously at one exact point, your mind will start to distort it. Your imagination will start to play

tricks on your if you fixate on your reflection in the mirror for too long, and thats not even a metaphor for self-love. It´s true, if you don't believe me you can do it yourself for 5 minutes and tell me later how you like it. So I must remind myself, give yourself a little faith. A little time. That's why the world and everything gets overwhelming when there is a sword deciding its next target every milisecond of thought. Allow yourself to see, calculate, and miss. Allow yourself to make opinions, and even judgements of things, and not feel ultimately horrendous for doing so. Trust your inner value of good and wanting good for everyone, and know that it is inevitable to have different ideas of what good is with others. If you make a mistake, or end up with a conclusion that does not reason with you (or is not satisfying to you) then you will see that crossroad when it meets you. Antecipating doesn't actually get you further, it only keeps you farther behind (like a kid that constantly asks their parents 'are we there yet?')