#the priest showed symptoms right after

[arrowmaker15]

Linda: We figured out what was wrong with the priest.

Dick, nervous: W-What was wrong?

Wally: When we tested his blood, it was laced with ketamine.

Dick, still nervous: Oh, h-how was it in his s-system?

Linda: Good question. *Turns to Jason* Care to comment?

Jason:

Jason: We tried to get Roy with it, but the priest hopped into our ruse of a game, and snatched it out of the air.

Wally, curious: What were you playing?

Linda: Better question, WHY WERE YOU TRYING TO DOSE ROY!?

Jason, shrugging: Comedy.

[cult-of-a-buttercup]

GUYS THEY’RE FINALY READY

Headcanons for each Bishop + a brief introduction to each of the mini bosses and witnesses!

Shamura:

Before their injuries, Shamura was known for being patient and powerful amongst other beings. Yet, they weren’t unapproachable: they loved answering any questions their followers and siblings could have, both to spread their wisdom and to show their own greatness. They were very caring as a sibling, usually scheduling visits to each bishop in the little free time they had. Though, they would come off as arrogant or patronizing, treating those around them as…well, stupid.

After Narinder’s betrayal, they isolated themselves completely. They often ignore their followers, and those who are too persistent are given a warning or simply become food for the more beast-like spiders in Silk Cradle. They suffer from depressive episodes and lash out at random followers for minor mistakes, earning a reputation of a merciless ruler after the imprisonment of the One who Waits. Despite this, everyone still respects them greatly- or pity them. The true reason why they’re constantly upset is because of their own loneliness. Even if they gathered all three of their younger siblings, it would simply not be the same. Narinder was the one they loved most, after all.

Shamura prefers robes and dresses before pants: fitting their stinger inside a pair is terribly awkward if not impossible.

Their favorite colors are gold and black: elegant and simple.

Sometimes they train with their soldiers to test their strength- more often than not they get carried away and exhaust them.

They spend most of their free time in their library, reading and writing documents of the Old Faith if their injuries allow them to.

Their injuries make them have terrible migraines and headaches: thanks to the crown, most of their memories are intact.

It made their powers of reading the future work less and be less precise as well.

Their favorite way of executing heretics is decapitation. They like to do it themselves, but they have too many things to attend to.

Focalor (they/them): Picked for their nimble feet amongst the caverns.

Originally a village hunter before being picked as a high priest.

They are rather quiet, and prefer to spend time with younger spiders or on their own. Shamura appreciates it and often comes to them when they need information on the wildlife. They were noticed when Shamura visited a hunting village and they had managed to bring the most amount of prey.

Vephar (she/it): Picked for her ability to identify poisons

Originally a healer before being picked as a high priestess.

She is a bit more chatty than her companions, and likes to catch up with fellow followers. She tends to Shamura’s wounds when they allow her to, changing their bandages and cleaning away the ichor. It was noticed when one of Shamura’s healers was bitten by a poisonous creature and was the first to recognize the symptoms.

Mauras (he/them): Picked for his prowess in fight pits

Originally a warrior of Shamura’s army before being picked as a high priest.

He’s rather rude and enjoys poking fun at his companions almost as much as he enjoys training and sharpening both his own and Shamura’s weapons. While doing this, the two of them sometimes talk about battle techniques and about the cult’s army. Shamura noticed him when holding an annual fight pit, with about ten warriors fighting each other, where he emerged victorious.

Allocer (she/he/them/it): Shamura’s Witness.

Originally a silk farmer before being assigned as a Witness.

Allocer witnessed Shamura’s transformation into a divine god. She was granted a life of service to them as a personal request.

Allocer is more reserved and wise, much like the god he serves. If they aren’t right by Shamura, she might be tending to the needs of their followers. Since their injuries, it tries to keep everything in order for them. Shamura noticed her when they were first traveling the land as a young god and caught their attention when showing a good amount of knowledge of the caves and villages.

Kallamar:

Before his injuries, Kallamar was known for treating himself like the king of kings. Living lavishly and vainly, the squid only accepted the best of the best and adorned himself with the finest of jewels: his high priests and witness were gifted what he wouldn’t take. As for his followers, they were also treated highly, often having quite luxurious amenities when compared to the rest of the Old Faith.

After Narinder’s betrayal, he became a paranoiac. He only trusts his high priests, and often thinks his followers are plotting against him when he can’t make out what they’re saying, and if a follower can’t answer the questions he makes (or he simply dislikes the answer), they will be used as a testing subject for new sicknesses and parasites. Deeply insecure because of his now ruined looks, he gloats and decorates himself more than ever, often taking everything rather than just the best. Because of this the amount of luxury his followers recieved has decreased, but not enough to be dethroned as the “better cult.” He has cut off most ties with his siblings, fearing they could be plotting something against him next.

Kallamar keeps anything that is remotely shiny- even unworthy gifts from followers. His collection is locked behind his treasury, and only his witness is allowed in there.

Favorite colors are cian, gold and black: they combine with him!

Spends a lot of time in healing bays, playing hard to get with followers who need healing. After a couple of praises and gifts he becomes more than willing to help.

His injuries don’t let him hear very clearly what others are saying, and sometimes make him have auditory hallucinations. His crown manages to soothe this, partially.

Though he uses experimentation as a way of punishment and execution, his official favorite way is drowning and/or suffocation (underwater and on land, depending of the species)

Saleos (he/him): Picked for his quickness in battle

Originally a farmer before being picked as a high priest.

He’s rather stubborn and straightforward with the people around him. Can be usually found patrolling the edges of the cult or checking prisoners are in the pillaries. Kallamar often asks him to bring followers to question, and first caught his attention when he caught a thief stealing from his crops.

Haborym (he/them): Picked for his magic abilities

Originally a potion maker before being picked as a high priest.

Rather quiet and a bookworm, Haborym can be found making new spells or training younger soldiers when he isn’t stuck in a book. The new spells are perfected for Kallamar to use, both in fights and experiments. He first caught the bishop’s attention when brewing a potion to make all of his army more resistant to magic.

Baalzebub (it/them): Picked for his remarkable aim

Originally a soldier before he was picked as a high priest.

A serious and hard working priest. It’s usually practicing its spells or patrolling with Saleos when Kallamar isn’t asking them to bring followers and to kill those who refuse to answer to him, right there and then. They caught his attention in a shooting practice.

Astaroth (he/it): Kallamar’s Witness

Originally a sailor before being assigned as a Witness.

Astaroth witnessed Kallamar’s transformation into a divine god. He was assigned a dutiful life of service by Shamura.

Astaroth is rather adventurous and vain, though its wishes for new things have begun to fade as they take the lead on ruling Kallamar’s army. Since his injuries, he keeps them updated on what’s happening among followers to help with his paranoia. Kallamar noticed him at first in his first sermon and as a merchant.

Narinder:

Before his imprisonment, Narinder ruled his small portion of lands under the rules of the Old Faith boringly. His hunger for more showed in every aspect of his ruling, often wishing for things he could not do without having to extend his grasp upon life, death and land, therefore breaking the rules. His lands were significantly smaller to the ones of his siblings, for Shamura feared he’d become too greedy if they showed him he could have more- this had the opposite effect, of course. When Narinder started his own faith, which never got an official name during its short duration, he was able to rule as he truly wished: his most loyal followers were promised immortality, and those who didn’t wish to die yet were able to give offerings in exchange for a longer life for themselves or their families. His lands were going to expand over oceans and over mountains, over the stars if he could reach them. Of course, all of this was cut short when Narinder was imprisoned and turned into his prophesied form: The One who Waits.

He kept part of his promises as best he could: all of his followers were granted a place in the heavens, as a way to thank them for sticking through despite being clearly at a loss. Those who converted back to the Old Faith after his imprisonment were severely punished for their betrayal and sent to purgatory. Narinder at first tried to see the positive side: he wouldn’t have to give another sermon in his life and he could do as he pleased as long as his chains didn’t pull too hard on his poor fur. This mentality worked for about a century before his hunger for more- this time revenge- kicked in again. Slowly, he lost himself in that, forgetting many things as he awaited a single lamb…

Despite his cold nature, he really enjoyed sunbathing.

His favorite colors were white, black and red. Then just black and red, after being imprisoned in the very white afterlife for many centuries.

Used to spend most of his time in cemeteries, overseeing spirits who weren’t ready to move on or who just didn’t know they died yet.

The shackles he was forced to wear have spikes inside, to not only keep him restrained but also punish him.

He never had a favorite way of execution: whatever killed the heretic quicker so he could do as he pleased in purgatory worked.

Yiaster (she/her): Picked for her keen eyes

Originally a librarian before she was picked as a high priestess.

A simple minded and honest priestess. She was able to read people very well, often being more logical than her fellow followers. She was usually reading through scrolls to help Narinder with his workload, and even helped him make important decisions. Some notes she had made along some old scrolls were what allowed her to be noticed by Narinder in the first place.

She was actually the first to see something was wrong when Narinder’s siblings came to imprison him, and was killed while trying to protect him. Now, she has a place in the heavens next to his other priests and priestesses.

Orbatia (he/him): Picked for his passionate heart

Originally a preacher of Shamura before he was assigned a new position upon Narinder’s cult.

A compromised and emotional ever since he was a young follower, Orbatia was assigned a new place as a priest by Shamura when they noticed Narinder could use a hand in taking care of his cult. His ability to preach sermons among his fellow followers was remarkable, and Shamura hoped that this would also inspire their younger brother to see the beauty of the Old Faith and its rules. It didn’t quite do the trick.

Orbatia was never fully committed to Narinder, as a result he dismissed Yaiste’s warnings about his siblings when Narinder was about to be killed and fled when faced with a fight. He converted back to the Old Faith upon Narinder’s imprisonment, and his soul remains somewhere in purgatory.

Repiuc (she/him): Picked for her wisdom in death

Originally a mortician before being picked as a high priest.

A morbid and mischievous priestess, Repiuc sorted corpses among the cult and documented the particular reasons for their demise. He was able to tell quite well, and had the most workload when Narinder was busy doing something else. He caught Narinder's attention when the bishop noticed part of his job was already done with some corpses- with the same skill he had, too.

At the time of Narinder’s imprisonment, she was killed while working with a stab to her chest- with his last breath he yelled and made everyone notice the reality of the situation. She, like Narinder’s other followers, rests in heaven.

Aixiloas (they/it): Narinder’s Witness

Originally a follower of Shamura before being assigned as a Witness.

Aixiloas witnessed Narinder’s transformation into a divine god. They requested to be assigned as his witness and were granted a life of service.

They were quite easy-going, checking on the different smaller needs of Narinder’s followers so they could relax around the land. They were first noticed slacking off during a sermon from Shamura- though the spider was offended, Narinder found it somewhat funny.

The day of Narinder’s imprisonment, they fought fiercely against three of the other witnesses, and almost came victorious if the bishops hadn’t intervened.  They hold a special place in heaven, and used to check on Narinder while in the afterlife before he became obsessed with revenge.

Heket:

Before her injuries, Heket ruled over Anura with an iron fist, for feast had to be earned through hard work. She didn’t like luxuries such as fine clothes and jewelry, and would give hers to Kallamar to wear her usual robes- which were covered in mud from crusading and tending to incredible amounts of crops. She liked doing things herself, often believing that if someone else did it for her it wouldn’t be right. Her followers were the most hard-working and the best cooks among the Old Faith- Heket was proud of this and often boasted about it.

After Narinder’s betrayal, her grip on her followers only tightened. Those who didn’t do things right at the first try were executed on the spot. Those who dared say something about how she did things were simply eaten. If you’re in her way, she’ll simply walk over you and possibly kill you anyways. She became rather cruel, often laughing at the faces of those she killed unnecessarily before continuing to go about her day, enraged. Her anger and resentment shows through her actions and way of being, and she refuses to admit it since it’d mean admitting she’s weak from still holding a grudge towards her heretical brother. She tries to spend time with Leshy, but he doesn’t seem interested in seeing her.

When she’s alone or bored, she catches flies with her tongue. Sometimes followers get in the way of a fly, but she doesn’t seem to care much about eating them along with the insect.

If you ask her, she won’t say she has a favorite color- but she likes warm tones and gold to match with her clothes and land.

Due to her injuries, she can’t croak anymore. Before that, she’d croak when she was caught off guard or when being really happy. She found it embarrassing.

Her injuries also affected her speech, which is why she uses her crown to communicate without using her voice.

Her favorite way of executing heretics is making them starve- either tied to a tree or hanging from the branches. Of course, that is if she isn’t hungry.

Gusion (he/him): Picked for his knowledge in herbs

Originally a cook before being picked as a high priest.

A rather reserved and anxious priest, Gusion tends to the kitchens of Heket’s army. Heket trusts him enough to let him oversee her cooking to strengthen all of her followers, and sometimes even listens to his advice when making new recipes. He first caught her attention when he perfectly sorted about ten different types of mushrooms after a missionary.

Eligos (she/them): Picked for their unique abilities

Originally a follower before being picked as a high priestess.

A  proud and easygoing being, Eligos was born with a set of wings. They allowed her to do a lot of things quicker and better than other followers, from collecting harvests to fighting. As such, Heket sends them to oversee the cult. She first caught the bishop's attention when effortlessly dodging her tongue.

Zepar (she/her): Picked for her knowledge in battle

Originally a soldier of Shamura’s land before being picked as a high priestess.

A stern and non-talkative ex-soldier, Zepar was raised in Silk Cradle before being transported to Anura as a request from both Shamura and Heket. She is the head of Anura’s army, and first caught Heket’s attention when the bishop was visiting Silk Cradle during a sparring practice.

Bathin (she/it): Heket’s Witness

Originally a farmer before being assigned as a Witness.

Bathin witnessed Heket’s transformation into a divine goddess. She was assigned a life of service by Narinder.

Being a common farmer, she had always worshiped Heket after it noticed the young bishop’s powers amongst its land’s harvest- when she was picked as a witness, she was more than glad to oblige. She oversees the cult’s farmers, and is also in charge of handling information given to her by the priest and priestesses.

Leshy:

Before his injuries, Leshy ruled over Darkwood with the help of Narinder and Heket. Being the bishop of chaos, his lands were overall messy, filled with both heretics and eager followers alike. His ruling was lacking in rules, but had plenty of rewards for those who followed his doctrines thoroughly- and those who followed his doctrines were usually the ones who executed others who refused to listen, along with heretics. Due to this, a lot of the time he found himself closer to his followers when compared to any of his siblings- which was frowned upon in the Old Faith.

After Narinder’s betrayal, Leshy’s ruling became even more chaotic. Without the help of Narinder, and not wanting to receive help from Heket because of how angry she always is, he was basically left alone to do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t break the Old Faith’s doctrines. His cult lacks many things, such as an army, different temples to worship him, or a central village around his temple- but it is also the cult with the most followers, being lousy in rules and having plenty of space for anyone willing to settle down between many chaotic cultists. The closeness between him and his more chaotic followers remains, even stronger since some of them wish to bring revenge to their beloved bishop.

More often than not, he’s underground digging tunnels around the land. It allows him to somewhat check what his followers are up to, and sometimes even listen to gossip.

His favorite colors are brown and green. They remind him of his lands and of himself.

Due to his injuries, he can’t see without his crown. This, however, sharpened his hearing quite a lot.

His favorite way of executing is letting whoever he’s going to kill run through the forests of his lands while chasing them- whether he or his followers get them is part of the fun.

Amdusias (he/him): Picked for his eagerness when serving

Originally a follower before being picked as a high priest.

Being a novice addition to Leshy’s priests and priestesses, he is open to learn from the other priests and priestesses while trying his best. He first caught the bishop’s attention when he noticed how often Amdusias was tending to things of the temple, which led to Leshy giving him a place as a priest.

Valefar (she/it): Picked for her insight of the cult’s needs

Originally a follower before being picked as a high priestess.

Hard working and organized, Valefar had always kept a close eye on who her fellow followers killed, where they planted their crops and, sometimes, when they worshiped Leshy. Due to this, once she caught Leshy’s attention with her knowledge of his own lands, he trusted her with the management of the cult.

Barbatos (they/them): Picked for their brutality in battle

Originally an executor before being picked as a high priest.

A boisterous and crude creature, Barbatos enjoys punishing heretics and bringing down villages- they do so with incredible expertise and skill, leaving almost no one alive when they set their eyes on a particular place. Leshy sees in them a fire for Chaos that can’t be dissipated, and first noticed them when executing lambs.

Agares (she/them/it): Leshy’s Witness

Originally a follower of Heket before being assigned as a Witness.

Agares witnessed Leshy’s transformation into a divine god- She pleaded to Heket to become his witness, and she allowed it.

Being a follower in charge of serving Heket while she traveled between lands, when they first saw the chaos of Leshy’s lands they were incredibly drawn closer when comparing it to Anura’s strict doctrines. Now she makes sure Leshy doesn’t get too bored, mainly by bringing heretics for him to kill.

—————

AND THEY’RE FINALLY DOOOONEE I HOPE ALL OF YOU LIKE IT AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO TELL ME ABOUT ANY THOUGHTS OR QUESTIONS YOU HAVE!!! ❤️

[sarafinamk]

Fallen Angel (Smiling Critters Space Riders AU Reader Insert) Part 2

Summary: The riders know you're addicted to the red smoke. Certain members thought they could help you during that point of your recovery, but that proves to be more difficult than they anticipated.

(This is the OFFICIAL continuation of Part 1. Please check out the talented @onyxonline for more context. Since this chapter contains a lot of sensitive topics, I will try my hardest to be respectful about this. The next chapter will be a little more light-hearted, I promise.)

TW: Blood, Injury, Near Death, Imprisonment, Trauma, Death mentions, Demon Mentions, Hallucinations, Religious Trauma, Religious Imagery and Symbolism, Religious Cults, Drug Withdrawal, Drug Addiction, Self harm, Accidental Suicide Attempt, Mental Health Issues, Slight cursing

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The next few days after your operation pass in a blur. Everyone has been trying to keep themselves occupied, holding on to what little air of normalcy still hung in the air. None of the riders have been able to fully process what could only be described as the biggest turn of events in their time fighting the war. It’s not the first time a member of the cult has had to undergo treatment. Victims that got converted due to planet invasion and nonconsensual exposure to the red smoke are rescued all the time. It is basic protocol for Space Riders. Sometimes a priest would be rescued. The story of how those members came to be priests varies. Some joined of their own free will, while others fought before the addiction made them lose the will to fight.

But you?

Archangels are infamous for their unwavering loyalty to the Prototype. They are the Prototype’s right-hand man, their council, and their second in command. Archangels eat, sleep, and breathe the Prototype and expect others to do the same. There are only a few known attempts to rescue archangels in history. The stories ended in one of three ways: they go back to the Prototype, (sometimes with a new band of “loyal” followers), they slaughter their rescuers, or they take their own life as a last resort.

Knowing that has made most of the Space Riders tense, Bubba included. The elephant has arguably been the tensest. Not even the sight of you resting in a cell with power mufflers on your wrists is enough to put him slightly at ease. He wasn’t a complete stranger to Aether magic (what others refer to as Divinity powers.) Granted, he only ever got to study this powerful and unique kind of sorcery through the catalogs, a few ancient ruins, and his team’s battles with you. Even then, doubt swarmed him with questions concerning how effective the cell, let alone the power mufflers will be in the long run.

Bubba sighs, pinching the bridge of his trunk as the signs of yet another headache emerge. That was one long argument with the Commander and council he would rather not revisit. Not that there are any that Bubba would like to recall. Dogday, despite all his good intentions, didn’t make it any easier for anyone. The two riders may have convinced the higher-ups, but the elephant knows that this is not the last time they will have this conversation with the Commander and council. The thought of that makes him take a swig from his coffee mug.

Problem number one may have been resolved for now, but now there’s problem number two: your red smoke addiction. With no red smoke to give you, it didn't take long for the symptoms to show up. Your feverish face contorts into a grimace yet again. Bubba glances at the vital charts. Of course, none of the numbers look any better than they did 10 minutes ago. He doesn't know why he hoped for expected anything different. Hopefully, the pain medication will do its job soon.

Bobby rushes back to your bedside with a cold, wet towel placed on your head. It's been a common occurrence with her ever since your operation. The "around the clock" care increased tenfold after the first signs of your red smoke withdrawal emerged. She even has the dark circles and bags under her eyes to prove it. Even when she's running on nothing more than fumes (and a few cups of coffee), she still runs around like she has had a good night's worth of sleep. Bubba can't help but sigh to himself.

The two medics are doing what they can to keep you comfortable and stable, but Bubba knows that the two of them will not be enough to help you right now. Hell, even Catnap's powers, despite helping you settle down and sleep, isn't a miracle cure for stabilizing your vitals in the long run. If Bubba wasn't tied up with diplomatic matters, he would take over more shifts for Bobby so that she could get some rest. Unfortunately, the others don't have the medical training so tasking them with watching over you is out of the question. Bubba insists on taking you to the HQ’s treatment center. Bobby refuses every time the idea is mentioned, insisting that the two of them are able to look after you themselves. That led to a few strong disagreements. Bubba may be miffed but can't say he blames Bobby for being concerned about the possibility of (1) another potential massacre on your end and (2) you being mistreated by those you’ve wronged. Unlike the two riders, however, the people at the center have the resources and training to help you.

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*MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING, PROCEED AHEAD WITH CAUTION*

You don't know how long you've been here. You can't remember. You just remember waking up to bright lights and a figure or two... maybe a few... standing over you. But then you went back into the world of darkness. Did you really wake up or was it one nonsensical dream?

You don't know.

You REALLY don't know.

It doesn't matter right now. All you know is that you're stuck in hell, and this is worse than what you grew up hearing about. Your powers stopped working, so you can’t escape. There was nowhere to run where those… things won’t find you and bring you back to your prison and torture you. Sometimes you can see the faces of your enemies before those things morphed into… something sinister. Your stomach was doing summersaults. There was a pounding in your head and chest that just won't stop. A burning tightness spread from your chest to your throat, leading you to choking and gasping at this point. This fire smoldering inside you just won’t die. All you want right now is to drop to the floor, close your eyes, and sleep. Your heavy, aching limbs beg for it, but no matter how hard you try, your head buzzes in protest.  

All you need is some red smoke. Just a whiff. Hell, just a tiny little sniff. You don't care. You just need it coursing through you right now. It'll make all the agony stop. You keep praying, BEGGING, to the Prototype to forgive you, to save you from this damnation.

Yet he never answers…

Why won't he hear you?

You know you failed him, but you didn't mean to. You would never disobey him. Not after everything he did for you. You did everything right your whole life to show your gratitude and love for him and you still ended up here-

A searing sensation from your wrist pulls you away from your thoughts. You turn it over and you see... red...

It’s so bright...

So beautiful...

And it's spreading to the white decorating your arms. Your fingers, looming above your forearm are also decorated with red. For the first time, you deliberately take in slow, deep breaths. You take in the red now seeping through the white. With shaky fingers, you slowly unwrap the soaking red barrier on your forearm. To your joy, the red spread rapidly from your bare forearm all the way down to your fingertips. Your red-stained fingers brush over your forearm, painting it with more red. At that moment, you smile, knowing your prayers had been answered. It doesn’t have that sweet aroma as usual, but it will once you allow more to spread around you. Without hesitation, you got to work on the other parts of you that were wrapped in white. Thankfully, there were plenty. You've been wrapped up in white for so long. It would look SO MUCH BETTER in red. You will do ANYTHING just to see red.

You also did have to rip out some stubborn black stringy parasites from your torso in the process. Once you managed to get every single one out, though, there was so much more red embracing you in a warm hug. It was just like all the other times. It was like the Prototype was with you again. It burned so much at first, but after some time, a cold wave of euphoria washes over your entire body. You breathe out a sigh of relief because for the first time in a long time, you can’t feel any pain. Now that there's red around you, you can finally sleep peacefully.

Much better...

Darkness begins enveloping your vision, before being dragged back by... screaming and something shattering? It's hard to tell. All you can make out are a pair of red paws being wrapped around you and lowering you to the ground. A red figure pulls you close to it, but you didn’t mind. Everything about the red figure is so warm you just want to snuggle next to it for eternity. You close your eyes, taking in that warmth. It feels so good to sleep again.

-----

The Space Riders decided to have dinner at Kissy’s Diner. Unfortunately, nothing on the table looks appealing enough to eat. They either stared blankly or picked at their food and drinks mindlessly. No words were exchanged amongst the seven of them, not even one of Kickin’s and/or Hoppy’s stupid jokes to lighten the mood. But what was there to joke about right now? What was there to even talk about?

Picky sighs, noticing one particular member still missing. She wishes she could say she was surprised, but that doesn’t mean a perfectly good meal should go to waste (even if everyone else’s meals have long since gone cold). The pig stands up, exchanges quick goodbyes with the six present members, asks Kissy for take-out boxes for the entire table, and rushes out of the diner. She makes a beeline the one place their missing member could be considering recent events.

It was just supposed to be a quick trip to your cell to deliver dinner for both you and Bobby. If you were going to stay here, you needed some nourishment to help recover. And Bobby, (bless the kind-hearted bear), has been so busy helping you through your withdrawal that she hasn’t had a lot of time to rest let alone take a break. She can’t remember the last time she saw Bobby leave your side for reasons that didn’t include retrieving medication and other things meant for your comfort. Not even Dogday was able to convince her to rest for a while. (Pretty rich coming from HIM if you ask the pig.)

Bobby only left for a few minutes for some water and more medication. Apparently, you were having a hard time breathing. Picky follows Bobby to your cell and when they got there, there you were with scratch marks and aggravated open wounds. Not only were there now bloody bandages laying sprawled on the floor, but you went as far as to rip out your stitches. The pig shudders remembering all that blood on you while you stand there muttering things like, “More red. Not enough. Need more.”

For as long as she lives, Picky doesn’t think she’ll ever forget that scream from Bobby before she ran to catch you. Not even the shattering of glass and ceramics can drown out the bear’s screams and pleas for you to stay awake. Picky remembers rushing for Bubba which ended up with her alerting the entire team. Dogday raced to the cockpit immediately to notify the Commander about the emergency. The others followed Picky down to your cell. When they reached you two, they find Bobby’s trembling hands pressing a bloody rag against your bleeding torso. Poor girl was barely able to keep the rag steady. Bubba, Picky, and Crafty rush to your unconscious figure while Catnap and Kickin gently lead Bobby out the cell. She protested but couldn’t escape the boys’ grasps. All she could do was watch Bubba bark out orders to the other girls, including Hoppy who oddly had been standing frozen in place, staring the whole time. Picky and Hoppy ran to and fro with whatever Bubba demanded while he and Crafty worked together to keep you alive long enough for Dogday to get you to the station.

After 11 minutes, the crew finally made it to the space station. Dogday leads a team of medics to you and… well the rest is history.

*END OF TRIGGERING PASSAGE*

All the riders quickly exited their spacecraft shortly after the medics took you away. None of them wanted to stay on the ship right now. After some time, Bobby said that she was just going to get some “fresh air.” But just as Picky predicted, Bobby is, instead, sitting outside your blood-stained prison cell, curled in on herself with her head buried in her knees.

“Bobby?” Picky settles down next to her, gently placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Bobby slowly raises her head. Her muzzle is wet and the cascade of tears soaking into her fur isn’t helping.

“It’s all my fault.” Bobby takes a deep, shaky breath. “I shouldn’t have left (Y/n) alone…”

Picky opens her arms and Bobby leans into the pig’s embrace without a second thought. “No, it’s not your fault. No one could have known this would happen.”

That was met with more shaking, hiccupping, and whimpering as the tears began seeping onto Picky’s sleeve. She didn’t mind at all. The pig just whispers more soothing words and assurances while rubbing circles around the other girl’s back. They stayed like that for who knows how long. (Now Picky wishes they’d invested in a clock for the cells). Eventually, Bobby ran out of tears, but she remains curled up in Picky’s arms. She hasn’t bothered moving from her spot, instead opting to stare at the metal floor. Picky can hear her occasionally let out a heavy sigh. How this girl has not fallen asleep yet despite pulling frequent all-nighters for the last few weeks is beyond the pig.

“You know… It’s not forever,” Picky began gently. “It’s just until they get better. We can always contact the facility about their progress. We can even schedule visits with them.” Picky didn’t miss the way Bobby’s frown deepened nor the way her gaze remained hardened on the cold metal floor. “Hey, they’re going to be okay.”

The only response Picky gets is a brief nod. It seems to be the only thing Bobby has the energy to do right now.

-----

Quick note - I can't believe this story got this much attention! Thank you everybody for your support. And again, sorry for the confusion yesterday. I didn't meant to post the draft. I was not paying attention to what I was pressing when I was editing. Sometimes I hate writing on mobile phones. 😆

[fizzzyz]

More Arsentropolis characters!!!!!!

All these little weirdos except for the priest are infected with the disease that lies in Arsentropolis. I don’t have a name for it yet, but it’s associated with trypophobia.

Jilly and Boe are conjoined twins, born with the disease. They’re only about 7 months old, but the disease has made them grow inhumanly fast. They’re pretty strong and lack some abilities, as feeling some emotions and talking.

Father Johnson is one of the few priests in the Church party. He’s in his 30s and have been loyal to the church and god for years. He’s half blind in his right eye. He has a sweet and loving soul but it doesn’t shine through much his quiet and gritty, at some times introverted behaviour.

Canine is another infected that was born with the disease. Its legs were replaced with arms, and its back is arched, giving it a dog-like appearance.

Centipeter or Centipetra is rn just an idea I have in mind and idk if I’ll add them yet. They’re supposed to be half centipede and half human.

Tw: disgusting disease below cut 💃

The disease basically attacks your genes, mixing and decoding them, which can really fuck up your body. Creatures born with the disease can be really deformed. It also creates small holes in mostly your skin, but even worse, in your flesh or even organs. It can only infect through injection or consumtion, and not by breathing it in like covid. This makes it harder for the disease to spread but because of the high rates of cannibalism (they have to eat each other in order to stay alive as they’re running out of food and can’t get any new due their city being in a lockdown.) the disease is rather common. Symptoms start to show up after about a month, but it’s too late even after 13 days after the infection, as soon as it starts working it’s over. Life span after infection is from about 3 months to almost 2 years depending on the infected’s condition.

This disease isn’t entirely natural, as some sort of demonism lies behind it, explaining the unnatural features of it. Some who have been infected for q longer period may start to reject god and turn to satan, becoming aggressive like rabid animals. Babies born with the disease can look like a demon almost and be extremely inhuman.

Idk what I was on when I made this idea 😭

[endlesslystarlitskies]

Lost and Found- Part 15

A/N: One more chapter after this! 

Genre: Horror, Action, Adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn,  

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.  

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned

Word Count: 4,252

Part 14 Part 16  Story Masterlist

xXx

Leon met Ella’s terrified eyes, stepping towards her and reaching out as if there was something he could do to stop what was happening. The black in her veins was moving faster than it ever had in him, and he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How was this happening? When did she get infected by the plaga? It couldn’t be when Castro took her, as he was about to kill her. And the progression was too far along to have been recently. But then when? 

“W-What’s happening to-” She was cut off as she let out a cry of pain, grabbing her head and squeezing her eyes shut tightly. 

“Ella!” Leon took a hold of her shoulders, trying to think of anything he could do to help her. Too many questions were running through his mind: Could he make it past Saddler? Did Ella have that kind of time? Was she too far along to be saved, like Luis’ notes mentioned? 

He refused to believe in that last one. She showed no symptoms up until now. He had to have time. 

“Now, prove Castro was right to believe in you. Come into your purpose!” Saddler shouted behind them.

“Leon, get away from her!” The familiar voice snapped him out of his attempts at coming up with a plan, and he looked up to see Ada standing a good distance away, her expression filled with worry and shock. Before he could even think of how to react next, Ella’s arm shot out, slamming against his chest.

It had been a simple movement; quick, but seemingly holding no real power. Despite that, Leon was practically launched several feet back, letting out a grunt as his back hit the ground. He winced lightly at the pain in his sternum and back as he looked up, and he was met with Ella’s red eyes trained on him, black veins visible on every inch of her skin.

Saddler’s laughter filled his ears, but Leon couldn’t look away from Ella, her expression void of any emotion. It was one he didn’t recognize on her.

“Perhaps I underestimated our dear Priest! His creation serves our God well!” Saddler’s voice was filled with joy as he watched on from a distance. “Go, my child! Rid us of this renegade and be the savior of your Lord’s wish!” 

There was no recognition in Ella’s eyes as she looked at him, and Leon was quick to get to his feet, reaching for his gun out of instinct, but stopping. How was he supposed to fight Ella? He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted to save her. But how? Realization painted itself onto his features as he remembered what The Merchant gave him, as well as his words. 

xXx

Leon reloaded his weapon, having restocked his supply so he could go save Ella and Ashley. He had had no idea why Ella was taken alongside the young girl, but he had been relieved she hadn’t followed him down the hole, as she never would have been able to stop herself like he barely had. 

“Ey, I’ve got something else you might need.” Leon looked to the Merchant at that, seeing him holding something out. 

Stepping forward, he took the small device. It was almost like the medicine Luis had given him, except why would the Merchant be giving him Medicine he already had?

“What is this?” He asked him curiously, but the Merchant had to think about it for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“Let’s just say you should keep that in your back pocket for a while, just in case.” Vague as always, which annoyed Leon.

“It looks like the Medicine I’m trying to get to Ashley.” Maybe that could at least give him a little more information to work with. 

“I suppose it does, doesn’it?” That was all he said in response to that, laughing it off. 

“What am I supposed to use it for?” He was looking for anything that could give him an idea of what The Merchant had just given him. 

“Well, not what you’d first assume.” He would assume it’s more medicine to slow the infection for Ashley. “But also, exactly what you’d assume!” Leon sighed. He should have known from watching Ella interact with the Merchant that this would have gotten him nowhere. 

“Thanks.” He told him, before holstering his gun and moving to leave. 

“Ey, just trust me. You’ll know when to use it.” 

He doubted that.

xXx

The Merchant had known she was infected, and probably for how long, as well. How? He had no idea, and right now, it didn’t really matter. Before Leon could reach into his pouch to retrieve the syringe, Ella suddenly disappeared, his eyes widening. 

She was fast- No, wait. He looked up, seeing her in the air, coming down at him. He rolled to the side and out of the way just in time as she landed with a loud thud in a crouched position, her knife now lodged in the metal of the platform. 

She was strong. 

He had no idea how the parasite inside her worked. It had to be different, considering it had never presented itself or reacted the way Leon’s and Ashley’s had. It wasn’t changing her body, at least not yet, so that had to be a good sign, right? 

Leon was quick to grab the syringe as Ella moved, pulling the now broken combat knife from the ground and tossing it to the side. Leon thought that at least maybe now she was weaponless; however, she reached into her boot, pulling out another blade Leon hadn’t known she had before. 

“Ella-” He started as she stepped towards him, needing to think of a way to get through to her. A gunshot sounded, Ella’s shoulder lurching forward as blood began to drip down the arm holding the blade, halting her advance towards Leon. Ada was standing on a platform above them, holding up her handgun. The first shot had been just a graze, but now her gun was trained on Ella’s head.

“Ada stop!” Leon ordered. He could still save her.The Merchant thought he could, and he had always had knowledge that they didn't. Leon had to hold on to that hope, because he didn’t know what he would do if he was wrong. 

“Leon, look at her! She’s gone!” Ada said back, though she slightly lowered her weapon. He didn’t believe that. He had to try. Ada could see that in his expression, the woman letting out a curse as she lowered her gun. “Fine, you want to get killed? Be my guest.” She grumbled, though she looked back to Ella to see her looking straight at her. “Shit-” Ella jumped, flipping backwards and landing on the platform a few feet away from Ada. 

The knife Ada had given her was gripped tightly in her hands, the blood now on it ominously foreshadowing. Ada raised her gun once more, but Ella moved quickly, and before Ada could react her hand was pushed to the side, and she was narrowly dodging a knife coming straight for her eye. 

Ella’s tight grip on Ada’s wrist had forced her to drop the gun, and now she was trying to find an opening to get out of there with her grappling device while also blocking the fast-moving jabs and slashes of her own knife. Ada winced when a hit landed on her shoulder, blood beginning to seep from the wound as her frustrations grew. Fortunately, a flash grenade landed between them, catching Ella’s attention long enough for Ada to get the hell out of there.

Ella had covered her eyes and turned away when the grenade went off, knocking her backwards but leaving her relatively unharmed. She caught herself easily, before looking down at Leon, who was in a defensive stance as he waited for her. 

Ella straightened, lowering her knife before she reached into her holster, pulling out her handgun and firing shots in quick succession at Leon, who immediately ran to the side for cover. He had assumed her weapons were taken off her person, but he supposed if this was Saddler’s plan, letting her keep them was a better idea. 

She followed his every movement, the floor sparking directly behind Leon and nearing closer and closer as the blonde found himself glad her shotgun was nowhere in sight. A moment later, Ella was forced to drop the gun when a shot landed on it, knocking it out of her hand.

She didn’t even bother looking up as she knew it had been Ada, who was too smart to be within reach this time, so she jumped down, focusing on Leon. He was who her Lord wanted most of all. 

“Ella, you have to fight it!” Leon shouted as he parried her knife, doing his best to keep up with her quick movements as he was now on the receiving end of her attacks. Ella didn’t react to his words, her expression never changing as they went back and forth. Leon was only on the defensive, leaving him at a disadvantage as he backed away from her over and over, only for her to be right in front of him with another attack. She managed to get him a couple of times, though the wounds weren’t too deep thanks to Leon’s quick reflexes. However, he couldn’t keep this up forever. “You have to come back! Don’t let him control you!” Leon had no idea if his words were getting through to her, but it was all he could do as his body was constantly moving to ward off her unrelenting assault. 

Unbeknownst to him, Ella was having a war of her own within her mind, desperately trying to clear the suffocating fog that surrounded her own thoughts. 

‘Kill him!’

‘Serve the Holy Body and grant your Lord his wish to spread it throughout the world!’

‘Do not resist!’

‘Release your mind to the Holy Body!’  

‘You have only one purpose. To serve the Almighty, your god!’

No. She didn’t want this.

“I will never let Saddler control me, or accept your stupid religion.”

It was her own voice this time. Not the dark, oppressive whispers of Saddler that surrounded her. 

“Now? It’s because I care about him. A lot. Him and you. And I want to do whatever I can to help you both, no matter the risks.”

The words echoed in her mind as her body continued to move, Ella trying to take back control of herself.

Leon was still trying to find a way to gain the advantage, thinking his words hadn’t reached her at all. Though, that changed when he took notice of the tears falling down her still expressionless face. It was proof she was still there. 

“Come on Ella, you promised you would protect Ashley! You promised to help her, for Alice!”  

“Besides, I’m also doing it for myself. I have to do for Ashley what I couldn’t do for Alice, Leon. I just have to.”

Ella hesitated in an attack then, giving Leon reprieve from the constant flurry of the blade coming towards vital parts of his body. It was enough for Leon to grab her wrist, pushing her hand away and turning her into the metal of a tower, pressing her flat against it with his own body. He had put the syringe back into his pouch, and he was quick to reach into it, preparing to send it into her arm as her chest was covered by the body armor. 

“Do not give in, child! Serve the Holy Body and fulfill your purpose!” Saddler waved his staff around, and before Leon could get the syringe into her arm, Ella shoved him off of her, before kicking him onto his back. This time, before Leon could recover, Ella was on top of him, straddling his waist and bringing the knife down. His reflexes kicked in just in time, Leon grabbing her hand and wrist and doing his best to hold them back.

‘Kill him.’ 

‘Please your Lord and protect the Holy Body.’ 

‘Be the savior of your Lord’s wish.’

All Ella could hear again were Saddler’s whispers, drowning out her sense of self and identity, making it impossible for her to take  back control of herself once more.

She was too strong, Leon’s arms shaking from the effort of keeping the tip of the blade from his eye as he lost all the ground he had gained with Ella, the syringe out of reach and the tears no longer falling down her cheeks. 

The only thing that saved Leon this time was Ada coming from the side, kicking Ella off of him and sending her rolling on the platform. Leon had no idea if he’d be able to reach her again, wondering if he had lost his only chance. He looked to Saddler, noticing the strong glow of the jewel. Maybe if he took that out, he would be able to weaken Saddler’s hold over her. He had clearly needed it after all. 

“Ella!” A familiar voice shouted, and Leon turned, his eyes widening when he saw it was Ashley, who was standing right behind Ella. 

In a quick movement, the knife was at the young girl’s throat, though Ella stopped as she stared at her. This wasn’t her target. This was the girl Lord Saddler needed. 

“Ashley!” Leon shouted, not understanding why she had come down here. Ella wouldn’t kill her, but if she took the young girl now, he didn’t know if he’d get either of them back. As much as he didn’t want to, Leon pulled his gun out, aiming it at Ella despite the fact that everything in him was against the action. 

“Ella, don’t!” Leon’s tone was firm for the most part but hidden just beneath the surface was the pain and confliction swirling in his chest. How did it come to this? How was he standing here aiming his gun at Ella to keep her from hurting Ashley? How did any of this happen? He had no idea if he could even pull the trigger on Ella. He had spent this entire time trying to keep both her and Ashley safe, and now he may have to hurt one to save the other, and he wasn’t sure if he could do that. 

Ashley was crying as she stared into Ella’s eyes, the red color of them scaring her. This wasn’t Ella. Not the one she had come to know and care about. Ella would never listen to Saddler, or hurt Leon, or hold a knife to her throat. 

Ella was stronger than that. 

“P-Please stop! You prom-.” She barely held back a sob as she forced herself to get the words out. “You promised me everything would be okay!” Her voice was shaky and full of emotion as her fists clenched by her sides, Ashley determined to get through to Ella even if it killed her. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I promise it’s all going to be okay.”

“Bring the girl to me!” Saddler demanded, but Ella was frozen, staring at Ashley as the young girl started to change into someone else in front of her eyes. 

Alice. 

It was Alice she was looking at now, and her eyes were wide and terrified, mirroring the very expression she wore before she died. And it was aimed at Ella. 

Ella felt the air leave her lungs, her heart twisting painfully in her chest as the hand holding the knife shook slightly, the red of her eyes dulling just the slightest bit, before the weapon clattered to the ground. She was at the forefront of her own mind again, her blank expression shifting into one of sorrow and regret as she looked at Ashley. She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t be a pawn in Saddler’s plan. She couldn’t hurt Ashley or continue to hurt Leon. All she had wanted was to make amends for her failure, and save Ashley and Leon. They had become so important to her in the small amount of time she had known them, and she would rather die than hurt them. 

Saddler growled in anger as the girl once again fought the hold. This shouldn’t be possible. . .the parasite had dwelled inside her for so long, taking root in her body. Its hold should be absolute. He began chanting, waving the staff around, but Ella grit her teeth, her entire body trembling as she tried her hardest to resist the pull from deep within her. 

She was losing, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from fighting it with all the strength she had left inside her.

“Hurry-” She bit out as she felt herself slipping once more. She just had to hold on a little longer. Long enough for Leon. The man had grabbed the medicine at the first opportunity, coming up from behind Ella and wrapping his arm around her shoulders before stabbing the syringe into her bicep, injecting the liquid into her bloodstream.

“No!” Saddler shouted; his eyes filled with rage as he felt the hold on the girl weaken despite the necklace on his staff. The veins on Ella’s skin began to recede as the red was completely wiped from her eyes. However, Leon knew it was only temporary, the black in her veins not disappearing completely and still present on her arms and crawling up her neck. 

He didn’t have a lot of time. 

“Ashley, get back.” He told the girl as he gently laid Ella down on the ground. Her face was contorted in pain as she fought against the parasite within her, and it was then that Leon silently promised her that he’d do everything he could to save her from this. From Saddler.

“Is she going to be okay?” Ashley breathed out as she began to step away. She knew coming down had been a risk, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch as Ella turned into a monster. Ella had promised Ashley that she wouldn’t let her become one of those things, and Ella delivered. It had been Ashley’s turn now.  

“I’ll make sure of it. Now go.” Leon held a newfound determination in his voice, and Ashley nodded, turning and running back to safety so Leon could finally finish this once and for all. 

“You foul renegade!” Saddler growled as he stretched his arms out, and Leon pulled out his gun, putting some distance between him and Ella. He aimed for the man just as Ada landed next to him, and they shared a look, Ada giving Leon a nod before the two turned to face off against the reason behind all of this. “You have forsaken the Holy Body. . .the great gift. . .to become one with us.” The man began to change as fleshy claws protruded from his body, Saddler finally becoming his true form. Leon didn’t falter. This, he could handle. This, he could shoot to his heart’s content. 

He would take down Saddler, and free Ella from his hold.

xXx

Leon grimaced as he sat up, the large dead body of Saddler’s true form a few feet in front of him. It was done. 

He was gripping something in his hand, looking down to see the necklace with the red gem. He had known he had to destroy this if he wanted to save Ella, grabbing it off the staff before he used it to kill Saddler. 

Setting it on the ground, he pulled out his knife, before bringing it down straight onto the gem. It cracked, but he knew that wasn’t enough, doing it again, and again, until the thing broke apart. It was then he noticed there was something inside the gem, his brows furrowing. 

It looked like pieces of the Amber. 

He knew he didn’t have time to dwell on it, continuing to destroy it until it was shattered completely, before he turned, looking at the container of Amber Luis had given him and reaching for it. However, Ada appeared, picking it up.

“Ada? What the hell are you doing?” Was she really doing this again? He didn’t know why he would be surprised, as Ada continued to show him who she was. 

“Nothing personal Leon. Luis and I had an arrangement. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it.” A helicopter came up over the edge, Ada walking towards it. “Rides here.” He could see that. “I’ll give you some time before I blow this place to hell. Use it wisely.” She climbed into the helicopter, kneeling down and grabbing the railing. Leon was quick to let it go, needing to get back to Ella as he got up, beginning to head in that direction.

“Leon,” He stopped, turning to Ada just as she tossed him something. Catching it, he opened his palm, seeing it was a key with a teddy bear chain. 

Cute. 

“Better get a move on.” He nodded, not wasting another second as he ran in the direction he had left Ella. Ada watched him go, the urgency in his steps apparent as he ran back to the girl. 

It was bittersweet for the short haired woman, but she knew it was for the best. She only hoped Ella survived. 

xXx

Ashley was already by Ella’s side, watching in worry as Ella was curled in on herself, whimpering at the sharp, stinging pain in her chest that radiated throughout her entire body. Her skin was slick with sweat, and she was trembling as if she was freezing cold. She felt more hands on her, barely hearing Leon over the blood rushing in her ears. 

“What’s happening to her!?” Ashley asked in a panic, hating to see Ella in so much pain and wishing there was something she could do to stop it. 

“The parasite is dying.” Leon answered as he pulled Ella into his arms, trying to think quickly. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Ashley was hoping for some good news for once, but Leon couldn’t give that to her. 

“I don’t know, maybe.” He had a bad feeling that it wasn’t, and he held Ella close to his chest as he moved towards the lift they would need to take to get to the lab.

“Maybe?” Ashley didn’t understand how the parasite dying might not be a good thing. 

“It might take her with it.” Leon stated, putting words to the feeling in his gut. The procedure was faster than this, and more targeted at just the parasite inside them. What Ella was going through now was slower and more painful for the entirety of her body, and he didn’t know if she could handle it. He didn’t know if the longer he let her go through it, the less likely the procedure would work. He didn’t know a lot. All he knew was he had to follow his gut. 

He knew it was right as he watched the remaining infected die one by one on the ground, and Ella was next if he didn’t hurry. It had to be a good sign that it wasn’t killing her immediately. Or that was his hope, at least.

“Leon-” Ella spoke in a strained whisper, and Leon looked down at her for a moment. The tears in her eyes sent a sharp pain through his chest, the fear in them pushing him to move faster. “Leon, if I die-” 

“You’re not going to die.” He bit out, refusing to consider that outcome. 

“Leon.” She repeated with as much strength as she could. She needed him to listen to her. “Y-You have to f-find Alice’s parents. . .” Her breathing was becoming heavier as she took slow raspy breaths through the pain. “You have to tell them. . . w-what happened to her f-for me. Please.” She managed as she felt her body weaken more and more. “She w-wouldn’t want them to worry. . .” 

How was she thinking about that at a time like this? 

“And f-find my father, too. H-He doesn’t deserve to. . . wonder where I am. . .or why I never-” She grimaced, fisting the fabric of her shirt in her hand as a pained whimper escaped past her lips, Leon’s jaw tightening. 

“Save your strength. You’re going to be able to do all of that yourself.” He promised her, his voice assured, but Ella could see he was doing everything he could to hide his worry. “You can’t give up. You’ve come too far.” She survived in the woods alone for four days. She survived monsters with claws and poison and inhuman strength and speed. She survived being a sacrifice, and parasitic bugs, and grief and depression. 

She had tried so hard to survive at every turn, even when she was at her lowest. She couldn’t die now when they were so close to getting out of here.

“G-Give up? Who. . .said anything a-about. . .giving up? I’m just. . .a realist, r-remember? H-Have to be prepared. . .for anything.” Leon kicked the door to Luis’ lab open, Ashley moving to the computer as he laid Ella on the chair. 

“Yeah, well I need you to be an optimist right now, alright?” He told her as Ashley got the machine ready. Ella looked up at him, seeing the fear in his own eyes more clearly before her eyesight began to blur slightly.

“For c-current company?” She asked him in a shaky whisper, and Leon took her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. 

“For current company.” He echoed, Ella nodding weakly in promise just before Ashley turned on the machine and Ella’s pain filled cries filled the lab.

[lipglossanon]

alright i’ve been stockpiling thoughts and you ignited something in me with the priest fic inspired by type o negative stay out of my dreams and 12 black rainbows,,,, priest leon x plagas/demon/succubus/vampire reader, like character idea i had has standard succubus vibes, horns, tail, wings, claws, sharp teeth the works okay, he’s done with sunday service and shouldn’t have anything else that week unless needed. he goes to sleep and his nightmares are the same they have been for months now, some woman in the woods beckoning him, making him feel like there’s bugs all over him, calling his name randomly in the chapel, getting stuck at the bottom of a ravine because he ignored her etc. so it’s saturday now and he’s sleep deprived, but he gets a good nights rest for sunday when the woman from his nightmares shows up, a completely new face but no one seems to notice her except him. he finishes mass and everyone leaves but he asks you to come to his office so you follow close behind before making your way into his room remarking about the decor and how bland it is before you hear the door click and he’s right up against you, behind you, hand on your waist the other holding a knife (dipped in holy water because duh) to your throat making you wince while he asks you who you are, while you laugh trying rub yourself against him to no avail while you say you met him in spain all those years ago and wanted to see him again, fulfill the prophecy or some shit. the back and forth escalated to the basement where he locked you before digging through old files to see what could be used to stop you, he finally corrals you into a corner of the basement while interrogating you to no avail. he eventually gives up and makes his way back upstairs when he hears a loud noise from the basement, he goes to investigate but catches you walking up the stairs 🫣

- 💀

(idk what to put here but that’s all the plot i got before smut so like here ya go, eventually you make a deal and he lets your roam the woods around the chapel as a form of security and you come in during the day to nap because you’re nocturnal and eventually he gets on your schedule, months go by and his old symptoms return, one morning you come in to sleep and he’s already in the basement passed out, paying no heed you crawl into your respective mat on the floor and curl up for day. when you awake that night you’re in leon’s bed, legs apart and covered in bites and bruises when he comes in and says he didn’t do anything invasive while offering you a cup of blood, smelling it it was from an animal something he never let you bring into the chapel but he was different, the same as you. intrigued you chugged the blood hungry from your nap while he takes the cup and sets it on the the table before spreading your legs with clawed hands smelling you while he moans watching the black veins get darker, tentacles come up around you your body holding you in place, your body singing to his that you’re each other’s making you both lash out at each other in some sort of archaic way resulting in days of sex and the most obscene ways of worshipping each other, the chapel closed shortly after turning into your own little sanctuary just the two of you. if i got detailed with the smut you’d be here for hours reading this and this was supposed to be the original plagas leon ask i sent i just split it up and spent all this time shortening it 🫣😳)

Have my fave pic of Peter (and also what I used as inspo for priest Leon 🤭 )

💀 anon 😮‍💨 😮‍💨

This is a new masterpiece 👏 👏 👏

I love the dark turn at the end where your both infected and the chapel is now like some haunted decrepit building the locals are too terrified to speak about cause demons now inhabit the place 😵‍💫

I love your brain 😭 💜 💜 thank you for the delicious meal as always 🙏

[citrusbunnies]

i love the trope of like magic weapons leaving cool colorful scars like demon hunters having green scars not just from their transformation but from demons theyve fought maybe green black ones like the one on vol'jin? scars from frost enchanted weapons having a blue shimmer and a red one from flame ones or maybe burns from magical fire that shimmer in the light or still burn occasionally like the magic that hit them is still trying to burn them, scars or wounds on forsaken or death knights glowing with the ghostly blue that the lich king is shown to be represented, a different blue than frost scars, by like a permanent reminder of whos service they were once unwillingly tied to, or the scars from nature attacks like solar flare and lunar strike glittering under their respective celestian entity, or scars from the magic like vining puncture scars from vines entwining a druids hands before entangling roots are cast or mages hands being not perfectly flawless like people joke but layered with glittering marks that only show at the right angles from messed up spells or ones too powerful for them to have cast at the time or shamans with magic burns or sharp cuts on their arms from winds kicking up debris and water slicing them at speeds great enough to cut the armor of their enemies that missed a little and hit them too and from restless elementals or people like jaina and kadghar who went grey from exposure to greater amounts of mana than their bodies were supposed to handle their eyes shine purple from the raw arcane in the right light or when casting more powerful spells or tyrande with oh so faint scars slightly darker than the rest of her from where the dark spots from her taking on more of the night warriors power to try and kill sylvanas and and night elf in range if their eyes ever return to normal theyre darker like the new moon still holds them in her hand and speaking of sylvanas her with the great wound from frostmourne in the center of her chest, blue and ice cold to the touch and glittering with necromantic magic no matter how close to the fire she sits, a place she carefully covers with her armor no matter how skimpy it appears she makes sure to cover that spot because she tolerates no weakness especially not from herself, blood elves with ghost blue scars from the blades and claws of the horrors that attacked quel'thalas, night elves with green tinged scars from the fel influences that refuse to leave their forests, and scars from the old gods that seem more purple and black than should be possible without an infection but none show symptoms and the odd scars from the minions of the old gods maybe make people hesitate to be as helpful as they would otherwise because if they left odd scars maybe they left some madness too, anduin and other holy people like priests and paladins and especially the lightforged, their scars tend to heal with a golden tinge like the light itself is intervening to keep them safe, maybe healing from different sources leaves wounds healed oddly like holy healing maybe making someone glitter for a while, not permanently unless it was a bad enough injury to scar even with magic but for a few hours, nature healing leaves someone finding leaves and flowers in strange places, someone with a head wound finding a flower in their hair or leaves dropping off someones shoulder or side after they move once healed and scarred wounds leaving bark growing like the nature magic is trying to protect them from getting hurt again idk im having so much fun coming up with ideas for all of these so maybe expect more later

[snobgoblin]

"which may cause me to ramble about how Russel's posession is an excellent metaphor for mental illness" please do

right off the bat, content warnings for dark themes, tw in the tags

Not sure where to start. I guess I'll start off with this note here

This is probably the most obvious part of this metaphor. The demons literally force him to throw himself in the sea. During this time, Russel had taken time off to write an album by himself, but he suffered from hallucinations and self worth issues which eventually caused him to give up, and Del being reaped was kinda the final push. He lost his last friend. After he lost his daughter, and everything else. He was completely alone with his thoughts, and his pain, and his demons, with no way out except death.

So, he went for his only way out. But it didnt work. I know the feeling.

The giant thing, I think, is that feeling after your first break. Not your first mental breakdown, I mean, when you really just lose it for the first time. Afterward you feel so big, like you're just floating endlessly in the ocean. Nobody to hear you, nobody that cares.

Until he got harpooned. He got punished for his attempt.

Then he got caged. Studied. Almost like psychiatrists trying to figure out what's wrong with you. He was just.. completely naked, gigantic, with people he didn't know staring at him in a glass dome day in and day out. I mean- if you know you just know really.

But over time, it started to wear off. Once he wasn't floating around in his pain, he started to shrink. He started to get a bit better. And eventually he was let go. He was free to go back to his family

ok this is not gonna be coherent

Let's go back to when he was a kid.

The Excorcise Bike. He was told that if he exercised, the demons would go away.

At this point he was banned from school because they were afraid of him. Because of the first time he got posessed. Put a pin in that.

But this priest (? iirc) promised him that if he just exercised, the demons would go away, everything would be better, and he would be allowed to go to school again. All it did was make him afraid, ashamed. He got into school again, but he was treated as a hazard in the process

Because of his first break. iirc he was a teen? or a kid maybe, but either way that's when a lot of things start to manifest- anyway

One mistake was all it took for him to be seen as a monster. And it wasnt even his fault, he was literally posessed

Likely, schizophrenia, specifically. But this also works for a whole lot of things. He shows symptoms of OCD, PTSD, depression, and a whole bunch of other shit (+ religious trauma), all because of this possession. Not to mention when a lot of my shit was starting to manifest I literally thought I was posessed by demons??

Anyway point is, Russel has mental health issues, a lot of them, and the demons offer a nice visual metaphor, i am so sorry if this didnt make sense i have a tendency to be vague and assume you know what I'm talking about

[simp-for-enrico-maxwell]

Mental state of Enrico [headcanons]

TW: I will be talking here about some mental disorders, PTSD, coping, alcohol abuse, and SA. So if any of these are triggering for you - please skip this post.

Okay, so... Some of these are more connected to canon Enrico, but some of them are inclining towards Enrico from my fanfics/the way I portray him. Which means that you can have different point of view, and that's valid! After all - these are just headcanons.

• I should start with the fact, that I diagnosed Maxwell with narcissistic personality disorder. I won't list all of the symptoms, just a brief description of this disorder: “mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.” - Feel like there is no need for further explanation, but if you want to read more, here is a link for the source

• But it would be boring to see him struggle just with this, right??? So of course that I added SA and harassment from a priest/member of Iscariot. Yeah, yeah, I know it's kinda a basic, over-used trope, but I just felt like adding this to his backstory, because I like to dive into psychological stuff and I seriously wanted to write what kind of impact this had on Maxwell.

• In my storyline he had been harassed since like six to thirteen/fourteen, till he started locking the door of his room. (It was during the time, he was already living in Iscariot headquarters because he had been in the training for a while.) And he was mostly molested in his sleep, because the said priest had somnophilia aka “sleeping princess syndrome”.

• I feel like I don't have to explain why Enrico never told anyone. - Because of his pride. He would feel ashamed admitting that someone did this to him, and that he was completely helpless to it. So he rather kept this to himself, “saving” himself from public embarrassment.

• I dare to say that these events gave him some sort of PTSD, which made him scared about sudden physical touch. (Especially if it's in his sleep. - That can trigger a full-on panic attack.) And nightmares are a casual thing for him, even though now they aren't that common. - So that's why he never lets anyone to get too close, and hugging is definitely NOT and option.

• He never opened about this not even to people that were close to him - Yumie and Heinkel - because he was terrified of them wanting to do something about this situation and confronting the said priest. He chose path of a loner - someone who will become the greatest man alive and will look down on all the people that did him wrong.

• Despite all of this Maxwell never thought about self-harm nor suicide. He saw these things as something pathetic and miserable, and he would never let himself to sink so low. In this he was the exact opposite - he started aiming as high as possible, to achieve power that would help him to cope. (If you are actually struggling with this: No, you are NOT pathetic nor miserable. My man is just an idiot with twisted thoughts. If you are thinking about hurting yourself, please, don’t be scared to ask for help. You matter.)

• That's also why he stayed in church/Iscariot. His view on God kinda changed (“He can't be real. If he was real... Why would he let me suffer like this?”), but he became fanatic in his own way. - Twisted man in need of power great enough to help him cope with his trauma.

• But being in charge wasn't his only way of coping. - Through the years Enrico developed another unhealthy habit, which was drinking alcohol in order to cleanse his mind. When he got the position of leader of Iscariot, he started enjoying expensive and luxury wines not only from Italy but also France. He doesn't drink every day, but when he gets in this certain state of mind, he is able to drink two or three bottles all alone.

• Since he was never taught to show his emotions nor talk about his feelings, he started bottling everything up, growing more distant and cold to everyone around him. Yet he made it look like he just grew up very quickly, and that he just became a very wise and disciplined young man.

• The only emotions he is capable of showing up are frustration, anger, and disappointment.

[the-foolish-scholar]

The Hermit

The Hermit tarot card is the ninth card in the Major Arcana. The card shows The Hermit, standing alone on the top of a mountain. The depiction of them standing atop of the snow-capped range symbolizes spiritual mastery, growth, and accomplishment. They have chosen this path of self-discovery and, as a result, has reached a heightened state of awareness. In The Hermit’s right hand, they hold a lantern with a six-pointed star inside, which is the Seal of Solomon, another symbol of wisdom. As The Hermit walks their path, the lamp lights their way, although it only illuminates their next few steps rather than the full journey. They must step forward to see where to go next, knowing that not everything will be revealed at once. In The Hermit’s left hand, which references the subconscious mind, they hold a long staff, symbolizing their power and authority, which they use to guide and balance themselves.

-

Hello everyone. I’ve taken a bit of a hiatus, which is why I decided to choose The Hermit card for today’s post. I fell ill and lacked the motivation and inspiration required to write. Last night in the middle of the night, I finally got the inspiration back, but I was too tired to get any coherent thoughts out on to paper.

When I first began to feel sick, I questioned why the universe was punishing me. It was Ash Wednesday, aka the day things Got Real™ for me research wise, and I felt so disappointed in myself for not being able to push through and go to mass like I had originally planned.

Reluctantly, I decided to listen to my body. I went to the pharmacist, got prescribed an antiviral, antibiotic, antiparasitic, antihistamine. I was glad that we were covering all our bases medicine wise, but I longed for home. I fantasized about driving myself to CVS, picking out brands of medicine that I was familiar with, grabbing myself a Frost Glacier Cherry Gatorade, and going home to my own bed.

Instead, I returned to my apartment with powdered Grape propel packets—which I was extremely thankful to have had brought with me, the medicine the pharmacist gave me, and the bed I’ve called my own for the past month and a half.

I laid in my bed feeling so sick that it was like I was on hard drugs while I should’ve been collecting data at the cathedral. I sat with the pain and stayed present until I passed out. I thought about all the other times that I had been sick in my life. My symptoms were scary but I knew I’d be fine, after everything else I’ve survived. I just needed to suffer for a little bit.

For days I laid in bed with the curtains shut, the air blasting, and Jane The Virgin playing in the background. I ate a lot of boiled carrots. I forgot how much I loved them and they’re officially back in the rotation.

I was still sick when Sunday rolled around, but I was not going to let myself miss mass. I woke up early, got ready, and Ubered downtown masked up. It was a mistake to go, I felt like I was hallucinating the entire time. But! I did get some good data so it was worth it! I also found out that they livestream the upstairs mass, so I was able to skip out on that and also see how they celebrated Ash Wednesday! Unfortunately, they don’t record the downstairs mass, but I’ve been emailing with the clergy and they said that they can send me the homilies that were read at the mass I missed.

When I got home after church I passed out. I pushed myself too far leaving the house. I decided I wasn’t going to leave the house again until after I finished off all my meds. At least I've got this view...

Luckily, my energy came back and I started to feel better that evening. I chuckled thinking of how ironic it was that the universe started to give me a break after I went and got blessed by a priest. I spent the next few days watching documentaries about El Salvador and the church, reading books about liberation theology and the civil war, and skimming over primary documents that U.S. military and CIA made urging about the dangers of Salvadoran religious leaders at the time.

The more I got better, the more I felt thankful for my health. The time I spent isolated and in bed was unwanted but it helped me to get my priorities straight and consider ways to live in alignment with my purpose. I’ve put off joining a pool for so long but tomorrow I’m finally getting myself a membership! It is going to be so nice to be able to swim laps again. I’m also going to get more serious about conducting interviews. I’ve distributed my survey to a good amount of people so far, but I haven’t conducted any formal interviews yet. My landlord and I are going to have ours this coming Saturday. I also have plans to grab lunch with a contact of mine on Thursday who is going to introduce me to their uncle who is a priest down here. I also plan on going to the UCA and reading some texts at the library. Hopefully the professor I work with there will be able to meet with me and discuss our coffee and conversation club that we’re starting. We’re going to have discussions about social justice and I’ll be sharing mindfulness practices with the group. It feels so good to be productive again! I was going crazy doing nothing.

Outside of work my social life has been good since I started feeling better. I got my nails done and then Evelyn and I grabbed drinks at Leyenda’s. Later that night we ended up at a friend's concert.

We also went and toured the national palace together.

Oh, also random, but a gecko and I had multiple altercations in my shower these past few weeks...

I think that’s pretty much it? I’m gonna pop over to Guatemala for a bit next week with a CIS delegation. I’m hoping to go to the beach and Suchitoto soon too. I’m sure I’ll get into something for St. Paddy’s on Friday.

I’ve also been reflecting on a lot from my past. For those of you who don’t know, I’m in therapy. I started going to therapy regularly after my roommates and I dealt with a peeping tom in our junior year of college. Therapy really helped me to get through that difficult time and achieve a level of peace that I’d never been able to know prior. I’m extremely thankful to have access to such a valuable resource.

More recently, I’ve been unpacking other parts of my life. I’m gaining a better understanding of myself and my life’s circumstances. I never envisioned myself as an academic who would study religion and spirituality abroad when I was younger. I always thought that I was going to be a journalist or work in politics. But it’s been really healing to be an academic who studies religion and spirituality abroad.

I came to El Salvador at 18 because I had no idea what else to do. I was burnt out and I could see myself failing out of college if I went right after graduating high school. My host family here, strangers, accepted me with open arms, and treated me as if I was their own daughter. Other volunteers at the CIS, who were older and had already graduated college and some who had even began retirement, befriended me despite our age gap and our difference in frontal lobe development. Salvadorans who were connected to the CIS did the same. I was just this kid, with no real sense of direction in life, no idea what I was doing, away from everyone and everything I knew, in a foreign country. They all took me in and loved me without having any obligation to. When I think about my life and when I feel like I am alone, I think of them and I feel hope.

I didn’t keep in the best touch with them when I went away to college after my gap year ended. So much happened in college. So much more than my peeping tom. I still had it in my head that I was going to work in politics and I didn’t even study what I study now for the first three years of college even. But the state of my mental health left me with nowhere else to turn but to spirituality.

For so long, I had rejected the divine after seeing how ugly religion was when I was going through confirmation classes. I was forced by the woman who instructed our classes to believe that God was a man in the sky who hated gays and didn’t think women should have control over their own bodies. But amid crisis at 20, I remembered what I knew before I underwent the brainwashing at Our Lady of La Salette: God or the universe or whatever you want to call it, is all around us and it doesn’t require a church or a man in robe to help us access it. It’s there in the stillness, in the kindness of strangers, in the coincidences, and in the little things.

I’m so glad that Miami had the resources to let me explore spirituality and religion academically in my own unique way. Without them and the support of my professors, I wouldn’t be here in El Salvador today. And I’m so glad that I’m back here. I’m so glad that I’m able to be with my chosen family, even though some of my brothers and sisters aren’t here physically this time around. And I look forward to the future. I cannot wait to live the rest of my life. I’m so excited for all that there is to learn.

I’ll stop my rambling there. You get my point. I was born, stuff happened, I grew up, and now I live my life for myself. Thanks for reading and following along.

Z

[gunmetalgrey]

@sorrowsick making me look bad bc I haven’t done my vampire lore:

* Alex was turned somewhere around 800 AD and therefore has experienced a lot of differences in her curse over this time. When she started out, the magic needed to keep her alive was a lot weaker and therefore she had less consequences for breaking laws/superstitions. Alex now also doesn’t drink fresh human blood which means she is weaker than someone her age (or older) who does. She’s still far stronger than baby vamps but it’s not easy.

* Alex was born a witch, and lost all ability to do magic when she died. You have to possess a soul to possess magic, which Alex doesn’t anymore.

* Sunlight affected Alex in the first 20/30 years after her transformation, these days it’s a mild irritation at best. If she doesn’t drink human blood, this is one of the symptoms that becomes far worse. She tried to drink animal blood for a while however she started to receive terrible scalding burns and had to switch back as the curse wasn’t able to sustain her.

* Alex doesn’t sleep, her body doesn’t know how to rest but she’s got quite good at meditating over the years and will often lie with someone else who is sleeping for hours unbothered.

* When triggered, her eyes turn black and her canines appear to grow larger. Usually her appearance is fairly normal apart from how pale she is.

* She’s cold to the touch and knows it can be a little off putting, so often wears layers to make people so do some into physical contact more comfortable.

* Alex has both super speed and super strength, to the point of being able to appear and disappear as necessary. Both of these increase as she gets older as long as she is drinking human blood, and both of these falter first when she refuses to feed.

* She can’t fly, although she can jump impressively long distances. She’s not sure if flight is a thing even older vampires have or just a rumour made up to scare children.

* Alex skin will burn on contact with garlic, and she experiences a migraine around religious symbols of she is not in the throes of blood lust. There was a whole phase where she went around eating priests despite the pain, it was a thing.

* Alex, at full power, can turn into a bat. This is usually used for comedy effect but she hasn’t done so since about 1890.

* She can enter homes without an invite, however she can’t harm the people inside unless she has been invited in. That’s where that trick has come from. Often witches will have additional wards that bar the soulless from entering, and Alex has had Mori work on some special spells around her own home to keep her family safe.

* She doesn’t show up in pictures of mirrors. She’s not sure of this is just her or not- it’s been this way since the invention of photography so she’s never known much different. She CAN see her own reflection in water, that’s about it.

* Silver is DEADLY to her. It will burn her skin in contact and piercing wounds will kill if the source isn’t removed. There are faint scars on her wrist from being forced to wear silver shackles for years that have never truly healed despite her condition.

* Other wounds caused by silver will take two or three times as long to heal. As she ages, the effect of silver only gets worse.

* Alexs methods of death are silver, wooden stake, burning and decapitation. Explosion is also a threat as if there is no body for her to come back to them she can’t. Pretty much anything else is fair game.

* Alex has aged ever so slightly, not that she would notice. Since 800AD, she has aged from 22-28ish.

* RELEVANT TO THIS VERSE- Alex has both a fascination and a fear of fire in this verse, it’s… weird.

* She has kept the injuries she had BEFORE she died, same with tattoos. She has a tattoo across her chest, and one on the side of her head but since the Viking age she has grown her hair back so that is always covered. She has a nasty burn on her right shoulder that is old and worn (it’s where her surgery scar would be in main)

* Alex has a few fun extra powers that have come about with age, such as: compulsion, mind reading, dream sharing. These are exhausting for her to use without drinking fresh blood and so these are used rarely. She can’t use these powers on other soulless creatures or protected magic users like witches.

* She has TERRIBLE bloodlust. Given this, alex doesn’t have much of a sire line. She has turned three people successfully in her life time, and all three are terribly linked to her. The problem is that her blood lust is carried down, so usually these poor vampires have died from attracting too much attention. One of her sire line is still alive and she is very much sire bonded with him, but that’s m e s s y. Again, Alex has no plans to turn anyone else ever.

[stcaterinamanco]

(  LAUREN COHAN  )     ⸻     new  york  is  home  to  many  people,     including     CATERINA MANCO,     the  forty one  year  old  museum curator,     some  people  say  that  she   reminds  them  of   worn mosaics, the fading scent of incense, and cracked marble  but  that  just  could  be  because  they  are  INTELLIGENT   &  AWKWARD.     cat   originally  hails  from  tuscany,    but  now  lives  in  brooklyn.  

ciao everyone! i'm coco, this here is cat, and this is her intro! just as a warning, cat's background involves intense religious trauma so if that triggers you, please be mindful and only read if you think you're in the right headspace!

cat had a pretty average upbringing in tuscany, and is an only child. their family are very devout catholics, and it was growing up in that environment that cat developed an intense fear of demons and falling prey to demonic possession. as a result, she started to read about demons to learn their weaknesses and how best to avoid being possessed.

unfortunately this was misinterpreted by the people around them as them falling prey to demons. it was also around this time that they started to show symptoms of bipolar disorder, which was again misinterpreted.

due to these misunderstandings, her family contacted their priest who in turn contacted the vatican in an attempt to perform an exorcism.

the whole event was extremely traumatic for cat, as she was tied to a bed at several points and her cries for help were ignored. it wasn't until a second priest arrived that the process was called off and cat was put in the hospital.

the ordeal was a nationwide media sensation and cat was the source of discussion all over italy, which they were mostly shielded from while they recovered.

after all of this cat returned home but her relationship with her family was irrevocably altered, however she became very close with the second priest who saved her. through him she developed an interest in medieval italy, as that was an interest of his.

after high school she went on to study medieval history with a focus on italy, and would further specialize in the occult beliefs and practices of the time, and would go on to write her thesis and dissertation on it.

after getting her phd, she relocated to new york to work at a museum as a curator for their medieval europe department

extras:

cat no longer practices catholicism

when the priest who saved cat died she attended his funeral and was distraught

she rarely speaks to her family

she is known as an expert on the occult in medieval italy. a little niche, but she likes it. she's even been published

she takes medication for her bipolar disorder and had to receive therapy for the ptsd she developed following the multiple attempted exorcisms

wcs:

relatives of the second priest, i think it would be interesting to see cat interact with them as she does consider that priest to be family

any italian immigrants, especially if they would be familiar with cat's case

fellow museum workers, especially other medievalists, but anyone with a niche as obscure as hers (like say the culinary practices of 1930s korea) would be great

if anyone wants to do anything with cat please message me!

[hiddenhistoryofourenemies]

Joseph Stalin

Note - the entry isn't intended to justify Stalin - the blog was intended to explain how those enemies got to the point where they became mass murderers.

Introduction:

Stalin was a man that history has undoubtedly not forgotten - many of us associate him as a mass murderer, which of course he was. As I said, I will not defend him or (horror of horrors) support the actions of the former USSR president. However, here we will delve into the past of this man with such a lush mustache and the psyche of the aforementioned man. So let's move to Georgia, specifically the city of Gori in the 1870s.

Childhood:

He was a weak and sickly child, the third in the family, the two older ones died in infancy. He had fused second and third toes on his left foot since birth. His left arm was also abnormal and shorter than his right arm due to a childhood injury. He spoke Georgian as his native language, and spoke Russian with a distinct Georgian accent until the end of his life.

Joseph's father had his own shoe factory in Gori, employing at least ten workers, not counting students. Over time, his progressive alcoholism led to the collapse of the establishment. Due to alcohol problems, he beat the boy and his mother. Stalin protected himself from his father's aggression by throwing one of his tantrums at him. Frequent alcoholic libations ended with throwing "Beso" by the boy's mother.

Teenagehood & the beginnings of the adulthood

According to Montefiore, Stalin later always spoke well of his mother, who according to him was characterized by "indomitable willpower", while according to Radziński, after 1917 he forgot about her, visiting her only twice. The woman was washing linen for local merchants. She was very pious, so she sent him to a church school in 1888 to learn to be an Orthodox priest. At school, he especially remembered the teacher Dmitry Khakhutashvili, who introduced iron discipline in the lessons, often beating students.

In 1894, as one of the best students of the church school, he received a scholarship in the amount of 5 rubles at the theological seminary in the capital of Georgia, Tiflis. He sent some money to his mother, but cut off all contact with his father, who had problems with the law (he died in a drunken fight). Stalin did not like the seminary. As he claimed, "Jesuit" teaching methods prevailed in it, based on interference in the private lives of students. During his studies, he became interested in Marxism. In 1898, his name was included in the list of the most unruly seminarians. There is information next to the entries. Pupil of J. Dżugashvili reads forbidden books. J. Dzhugashvili published an illegal newspaper. In 1899 he was expelled from the university. As he later claimed, he was expelled for promoting Marxism.

Psychology perspective

Now we know what happened to Stalin - one of the biggest mass murderers that ever existed.

Knowing that we can distinguish 2 things (these are MINE speculations, take this diagnose with a grain of salt):

PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) - As we already know Stalin's father was alcoholic and an abusive parent. The effects could be various, for example:

Adjustment disorder occurs in response to a stressful life event (or events). The emotional or behavioral symptoms a person experiences in response to the stressor are generally more severe or more intense than what would be reasonably expected for the type of event that occurred.

Symptoms can include feeling tense, sad or hopeless; withdrawing from other people; acting defiantly or showing impulsive behavior; or physical manifestations like tremors, palpitations, and headaches. The symptoms cause significant distress or problems functioning in key areas of someone’s life, for example, at work, school or in social interactions. Symptoms of adjustment disorders begin within three months of a stressful event and last no longer than six months after the stressor or its consequences have ended.

2. RAD (Reactive attachment disorder) - RAD is characterized by markedly disturbed and developmentally inappropriate ways of relating socially in most contexts. It can take the form of a persistent failure to initiate or respond to most social interactions in a developmentally appropriate way—known as the "inhibited form". In the DSM-5, the "disinhibited form" is considered a separate diagnosis named "disinhibited attachment disorder".

The Ending:

I'm telling you, monsters aren't born, they're made.” - "Seduced in the Dark" by C.J. Jones

History is repeating itself - we, humans are made this way. Even though we try so hard we're always stuck in the same cycle of death,destruction and hatred. Some people can learn - how to break the cycle, others don't care or even don't know how get out from this loop.

Stalin as many other mass murderers was doing the same thing that the abuser did - Joseph's father was an alcoholic and an abuser who beated him up along with his mother.

This can give one lesson - We humans are creating monsters, mass murderers - those who's mind is twisted and filled with hatred and rage. Or even fear.

This is a lesson from the real life - as a parent you have to be careful because YOU can create a cold-hearted and mentally ill killer without empathy or regrets.

That's it for today.

Have a nice day - Bye!

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Emperor Part 2: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a blight strikes the Imperial Palace, and you're caught in the middle of it all.

wc: 1.7k

tw: straight fluff

masterlist

Soft whispers of the fever spreading through the country reach your door in almost record timing.

And while Toji does not address it directly, you know his intentions as you lay in his arms, listening to him divulge the most recent reports.

"I'm a little worried," he admits, and you stroke his arm carefully, looking up at his pensive face.

"You will do what you know is best," you reply and touch his cheek. "You're the emperor, appointed by the gods and their heavenly mandate. All you need to do is listen to their wisdom." Toji takes your hand and kisses your wrist, his green eyes closing.

"I am always astounded by the comforting words you share, my little nightingale." You smile, curling the same hand around his shoulder before sighing, and drifting off to sleep with his warm body nestling yours.

But the fever does not pass by your house.

The first concubine to get it showed no symptoms, and it spread like wildfire throughout the halls of the palace, even daring to touch the advisor to the emperor before Toji began to send each concubine back to her own hometown for safety.

Your safety.

You watch as the palace dissolves into a ghost town, the sounds of women and Princess Tsumiki vanishing almost overnight. And Toji becomes the only visitor to your chambers, even when he is not desiring to sleep with you. He confesses his worries, curls into your frame, and even bemoans his predicament before falling asleep in your arms. Most nights, Toji just lays with you in the bed, speculating about how long it would be until the blight would end. And you offer your best words to ease his troubled soul, but soon, it's apparent they are not enough.

Then, one night, you awaken with chills and a cold sweat running down your spine. You thank the gods that this was a night when Toji did not come to lay with you, citing strategy meetings with the country's best doctors as his reason. And when you cough loud enough to call the attention of a maid outside of your door, you know that you might be seriously ill.

"Do not tell the Emperor," you beg the doctor, who looks down at you with pity. "Just tell him I am menstruating." But the lie only keeps Toji at bay for an hour or two, at most.

When the door slides open in the morning and Toji walks in, you see two of him in your sickly haze. But you know there is only one Toji Fushiguro and that he was not pleased to see you in your bed, sheets pulled around your weak frame.

"Please," you croak, waving your hand. "Don't come any closer, Your Holiness."

"Toji," he corrects you, kneeling by your bed and taking your hand. "And you cannot command me to do anything."

"I am unwell," you whisper. "Let me recover before you return. I do not want you to get ill. Our country needs you."

"But I need you," Toji rebuffs. "I'm staying right here until you get better. If I catch the fever, then we will be sick together." You do not have the strength to argue, so a chair and a table are brought for Toji to work and stay by your side through the day and night. As you fade in and out of your sickness, you see him hard at work, glancing over at you every so often, hear him arguing with the doctors outside of the door, and feel him gripping your hand in his as he kneels at your beside, praying to the gods feverishly when there is no one else around.

You can barely eat, at one point only drinking water, and you sleep most of the day away that you don't even recall which day it is when you do awaken. And Toji remains by your side, even as you catch signs of the fever letting up; the sounds of life return to the palace as you slowly recover.

It is a crisp, autumn evening when you finally have the strength to be wheeled into the garden, a large blanket covering your legs as Toji pushes you around and comments about the flowers that are blooming. You're touching a chrysanthemum when Toji sighs, looking out at the massive space.

"I'm not calling the others back." Your eyes slide to the Emperor, who crosses his arms and nods his head as if this was the moment for him to make up his mind. "I'll pay for them to have all of the comforts they had here... but I will not ask them to return."

"Are you sure, Your Holiness?"

Toji clenches his jaw, biting the side of his lip that's scarred.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"But I have not given you a s--"

"I don't care." The discussion is ended at that moment, for you know the Emperor is not one to be persuaded when he has made up his mind. You watch as the letters go out, along with the monthly payments, and Toji watches you regain your strength, his conviction about his decision growing every day.

_____________________________________________________________

Illness strikes you again as soon as you feel like things are normal. As you lay in the royal chambers with cool towels on your forehead, you wonder if this is a punishment from the gods.

Nausea plagues you, and even though you desire to eat anything and everything, you throw it up as soon as it's been digested.

And Toji? Toji is frustrated.

"I will not permit visitors to the palace. I will not allow you to step one foot out of these doors. You will be fed by my hand, and no one will be permitted to handle you except me." You listen to him growl at you while you chew on ginger root, your blank stare focused on his face. "Do you hear me, y/n?"

"Yes, your Holiness," you reply, but something in you tells you that this isn't the kind of sickness he thinks it is. Your suspicion is confirmed when your cheeks get redder and rounder and you gain a little weight, the small bulge beneath your clothing showing slightly. Even the doctors stare at Toji with blank and idle eyes, wondering when he would catch on to the fact that you were growing.

Toji stands at the window one night, fiddling with his robes when you approach him from behind and hold him close.

"I love you," you whisper, and he looks over his shoulder at you, lips quirking up in a smile.

"You want something, don't you? You only use that tone when you're about to ask me a question," he laughs. "Whatever it is, you can have it."

"I already have everything I want," you reply, kissing his back. "Besides, you've been so busy being the Emperor that you haven't noticed the changes in your own home."

"Hm? Do you mean the new trees? I had them planted for their blossoms but it seems--"

"Your home, Toji."

"This is my home," he murmurs, turning around to face you, eyebrow raised. "Is there something you need to tell me?" When you grab his hand and place it on your belly, Toji stares at you, then frowns. "Um..."

"Feel," you encourage him again, holding his hand captive.

"Little nightingale, I am not sure why you have me feeling your--" Toji stops, his green eyes looking off into the corner of the room as his fingers roam back and forth across your stomach. He blinks twice, pulls his hand back, then quickly grabs the hem of your nightgown and ducks underneath.

"TojI!" you exclaim, but you feel his hands touching and exploring, and hear him talking to himself excitedly.

"How long?" Toji wonders underneath your dress, movements stilling.

"Um..."

"How long?" he repeats eagerly and you laugh, placing your hand on his head.

"I think it's only been two months." Toji reemerges from under your gown and clasps your shoulders.

"Your feet, are they always cold?" You search Toji's face before whispering,

"Yes...?" The light in his eyes is impossible to dim. His face brightens considerably, and then he begins to pace around the room.

"Right, cold feet..." He begins to tick his fingers off one by one, muttering to himself again.

"My love, is everything alright?" you wonder, lacing your fingers together as he runs his hands through his dark hair and turns back to you.

"I've just been told you're with child. I'm among the happiest men in the world, sweet one." His fingers touch your face tenderly, and you lean into his palm, smiling. "But you must get your rest. We will talk about it with the priests in the morning."

"Priests?" you wonder as he shuffles you toward the bed. "What do they have to do with--"

"And think of names for our son," he urges you, pulling the sheets around your frame. "I will plan the celebration as soon as I hear from the gods."

_____________________________________________________________

"What if we named him... Kosuke?" You wonder, playing with Toji's hair in the morning light. Toji sticks his tongue out and makes a 'yuck' noise, and you purse your lips.

"How about Sachihiro?"

"That's a mouthful," you reply, and he rolls his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Maybe Tatsuo?"

"Dragon?" Toji laughs, looking over at you. "You want me to name him after my rivals in the East?"

"Don't talk about Emperor Geto like that," you mutter, swatting his arm. "He's been so kind."

"He's been so nosy," Toji retorts, just as Princess Tsumiki comes running into the room, followed by her attendant, who appears to be extremely apologetic as she tries to scoop her up. "No, no," Toji mumbles. "Leave her be."

"Let's ask the Princess what she thinks," you suggest, and Toji nods, standing from his seated position on the floor.

"Tsumiki, what would you like to name your little brother?" he asks, pulling her up into his arms.

"Mango," she replies, sticking her fingers in her mouth. Toji looks over at you, unamused.

"Sure, we'll name him mango," you offer, smiling at the girl who leans over to touch your face lovingly. "It's your favorite fruit, after all." Toji tilts his head, then inhales sharply, eyes widening.

"Megumi," he breathes, and you raise your brows sharply.

"Blessings," you whisper, and he nods, eyes locking with yours as his smile widens. "Megumi..." You try the name out on your tongue, finding it fits quite nicely.

"Megumi."

[scripttorture]

I'm trying to write a character who gets depression/anxiety after a few days of torture, but I'm worried that from an outside perspective the tiredness, lack of interest, and hyper vigilance are going to look like the character has been beaten down into meekness/compliance by the torture. Any advice on how to avoid the trope that this character was broken by their expeience when most days they're too tired to argue about anything and are slowly checking out of life due to the depression?

That’s a really good question. I think the best thing to do is combine several different approaches rather then relying on one particular thing.

 My first piece of advice holds true for writing any kind of minority experience. If you think you could be suggesting that an entire group has a particular feature/characteristic include another character from the same group who doesn’t. The more characters you have who are torture survivors the easier it is to show that they’re a diverse bunch with different symptoms and experiences.

 They don’t need to be major characters. They don’t need to be in the story for very long. But having them there makes a big difference.

 This is a lot easier if you’re talking about legally defined torture in a prison of some kind. But if that’s not the kind of story you’re telling consider bringing other survivors in during the character’s recovery. They could meet people while waiting to see the same doctor or mental health professional. They might be advised to join a group, either for group therapy or communal support. They might meet people while looking for financial support or jobs. If they’re religious they might be introduced to people through their priest or broader religious community.

 The next thing worth thinking about is: what can your character practically do?

 We have this tendency to conflate resistance with big, obvious, violent acts. Most of the time torture victims are not in a position to do that kind of thing. And in situations where people are held for a very long time (ie slavery, prisoner of war camps etc) what you tend to see are a lot of smaller or less obvious acts. Enslaved people did oppose slavery violently, with organised military action and with smaller acts of violence like poisoning slave owners.

 But they also did a host of other things. They sabotaged equipment or products they were supposed to produce. They broke valuable objects. They provided each other with material support and aid. They escaped and set up separate societies. They channelled resources into these societies. They aided others in escape attempts.

 It’s always worth thinking about what your character can actually practically do and what the risks or consequences of those actions might be.

 I talk about that in a post over here. Characters can take meaningful action even when they can’t take effective action. It’s worth taking the time to think about what would be meaningful to this character and figure out ways to show them prioritising it.

 It’s also worth considering what depression and anxiety can look like because yes, the features you describe are common in people with depression and anxiety. But they’re not necessarily constant and they’re not the only ways these conditions manifest.

 Depression can look like sleeping all the time. It can also look like not sleeping and a lack of sleep feeds into anxiety. Insomnia also causes paranoia after a while, makes it harder to interpret other people’s responses and can increase the risk of violent behaviour.

 Similarly depression can look like eating a lot, but it can also look like nausea, like being unable to eat full meals and struggling to keep food down. From the outside anxiety can be read as fear but it can also be read as aggression.

 It wouldn’t be unrealistic for this character to be more depressed at times and more anxious at others. It wouldn’t be unrealistic for them to be incredibly sleep deprived, paranoid and less able to see the risk in something like… spitting on a guard some days even if they’re generally incredibly tired, lethargic and apathetic.

 Basically even if this is the predominant way depression and anxiety manifest in this character there’s still leeway. There’s still moments when you can have them go against that. Even if it isn’t very often.

 The choice to use an outside perspective does make things harder. Especially if that perspective is a character who believes these kinds of tropes and has a poor understanding of mental health. One way to get around this is to have the point of view character’s perspective change with time and have them come to (and lead the audience to) the conclusion that they were wrong.

 But the character doesn’t need to reach that realisation if you work in enough signals to the reader that they’re unreliable. One way to do that is to contrast what the point of view character thinks with what the survivor character actually says and does.

 Let’s say the point of view character is having a conversation with another person who isn’t a survivor and they present the survivor as this sad case, broken by what they experienced because of a specific behaviour. Like sleeping a lot or being listless or not engaging with things in the way they used to.

 On it’s own that scene could easily back up these tropes (though it’s not an unrealistic scene because these tropes are commonly believed.) So let’s imagine the scene with the survivor’s response.

 They could respond that they sleep a lot because they have chronic pain or because their depression makes it hard to eat properly which leaves them exhausted. Physical symptoms like that are often easier for people to understand and it underlines the point that this is illness not some state where they’re permanently incapable. They can also respond with the steps they’re taking to try and make their life better. For chronic pain in torture survivors that can mean medication or physiotherapy. Perhaps they’re working on changing their diet or the schedule they eat at and sleep at, to work around these physical limits.

 You can apply the same kind of logic to the other points here, talk about why depression makes the character listless or stops them engaging and what they’re doing now. The aids that help them focus, how therapy is going, the new hobbies they’re exploring instead (perhaps because old ones contain triggers.)

 It’s harder to apply the same thing if the character is still imprisoned and still being tortured. But you can still do it. May be the dreams and plans the victim character had before seem meaningless now, but there will still be things they want to do and there will still be things they find meaning in.

 May be they don’t think they can be a Nobel prize winning doctor any more and may be to an outside perspective that looks like ‘broken’. But it’s harder for the audience to agree with that conclusion if the victim character is saying ‘My priorities are different now. I regret spending so much time working and I miss my family. If I get out I want to make them my focus instead of work.’

 A self aware character might be able to say ‘I don’t think I could achieve that dream anymore. But I think I could achieve this instead.’

 You can have other characters, doctors, psychologists or anyone who has worked with survivors for a long period, refute the idea these people are broken. Hurt, yes, but that doesn’t mean they’re incapable of living or of living well.

 If the perspective is more of an omnipresent narrator you’ve got more scope to show little acts of resistance the character might be engaging in. You’ve also got more scope to just straight up tell the readers what’s going on in this character’s head.

 It’s worth stressing that characters like this do still have and make choices. They are choices in incredibly awful situations and they are not free choices. But that capacity to choose is still there. And there are understandable, though not always rational, thought processes behind those choices.

 Depression doesn’t always mean checking out of life. I’ve known a fair number of people with depression who kept going with things they considered important. They just also… got no enjoyment out of it. They were miserable and in pain. But they were still trying to do the best they could for their kids or finish their degree. These efforts weren’t always successful. Depression makes most things more difficult.

 But a character willing to give up on themselves isn’t necessarily willing to give up on other things.

 At the end of the day the symptoms you choose for your character and how those symptoms manifest isn’t the problem. There’s nothing wrong with picking the symptoms that are right for your character and there’s nothing wrong with writing them in this way.

 The problem comes when we start telling people that there’s no hope, that nothing gets better. It comes when we imply that natural, physiological reactions to trauma are somehow the fault of the victim or that those reactions mean they are forever controlled by their abuser.

 Torture is an awful, effecting and life changing experience. It leaves lasting wounds.

 But humans are incredibly resilient, stubborn creatures. Our capacity for survival, to find ways to live well, is astounding.

 There’s room for optimism here and it’s worth making space for that in your story.

 I hope that helps :)

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[timeclonemike]

Axiom Verge 2: Here We Go Again

So Axiom Verge 2 came out not long ago, but I don’t have a Switch and I don’t trust the Epic Games Store. Rather than wait and possibly get spoiled, I bit the bullet and watched a Let’s Play.

Consequently I can now build on this post. Cutting for length and spoilers right about here.

The Filter: The biggest revelation that AV2 provides is a refinement of the multiverse theory, plus defining some terms from the original game. Trace’s note next to his wheelchair mentions going upstream to the Filter or beyond for answers. As it happens, “upstream” refers literally to the Worldstream, and different universes are connected to each other in a serial fashion. The terminology used to describe the connections is upstream and downstream, with upstream leading towards the Source Worlds that are the progenitors of all other universes. Likewise, the Filter refers to worlds in the worldstream that function as firewalls and safety mechanisms to keep disruptive influences from downstream worlds from traveling too far up, since disrupting one world can damage all of the worlds downstream from that world.

We even get to see the Worldstream or some analog to it when Indra (the protagonist of Axiom Verge 2) travels to the Filter world upstream of Kiengir (which is either upstream of or parallel to Earth) and the background of the rooms is a MASSIVE fractal pattern originating from / coalescing into a singularity off in the distance.

There are also some notes from Trace to Dr. Hammond, his research partner in the cutscene for the first game who took Trace’s revolutionary theory and turned into a way to make Faster Than Light communication and computing technology. Dr. Hammond also finds herself in a unique position to test one of the possibilities implicit in Trace’s theory, namely if the existence of an afterlife is somehow accounted for in the multiverse. One of the notes in the first game says that different instances of a person across the multiverse can survive events that their counterparts do not, but that the survivors have no idea that they even have a counterpart who died.

What happens in the second game is more about what happens to the ones that didn’t make it, because Dr. Hammond is communicating with Indra through the prototype superluminal communicators (called ansibles) scattered here and there, but Indra can also find Hammond’s body and a suicide note in some of Kiengir’s ruins. Dr. Hammond refers to where she is as a sort of “detention center” that she needs Indra’s help to escape from, and this help involves hacking the control computer in the Filter world. An earlier message at an ansible mentions data throttling, which seems to refer to the memory limitations of the ansible prototypes themselves; they can only send so much data over their operational lifetimes.

Except there’s Trace’s original paper and the axioms he starts with, where reality is described as algorithms running a universal / multiversal simulation, and cognition is a sub-algorithm within the parent algorithm. Put it all together and the game all but states that there is an afterlife, but it operates on the same rules as life - it’s an adjacent or related universe to our own and minds / spirits / souls / cognitive algorithms can migrate between those universes under certain conditions even if the material body they used to pilot is no longer functional. At least, that’s what normally happens, but for some reason the transmigration of souls was limited or stopped or throttled. It’s semi-implied but never explicitly stated that there’s a trans-universal system in place to keep the Worldstream stable, and the Lamassu computer network that controls Kiengir is part of that network, and the fact that realities are starting to glitch and break down further implies that this system is damaged or overwhelmed.

Trace’s Motivations: Trace never shows up in the game, and only gets mentioned here and there in a few notes. The game takes place in the 2050s and Trace’s lab accident was in 2005, with Dr. Hammond starting Hammond Corp and making money hand over fist in 2007 by selling the world zero-latency computing technology. Hammond’s suicide note explains that Trace was already exploring the Breach before she started her company, but she hasn’t heard from him in decades and the entire antarctic expedition was just so she could try to find him again. She mentions a few things in passing that come up in the first game, like a device called a Scry that can locate anything in the multiverse, and the term PatternMind which Trace was but Hammond was not.

By itself, this would seem to imply that we don’t know anymore about what Trace saw or experienced that turned him from a pacifist to somebody willing to commit genocide. But there’s another factor in play, one that has nothing to do with Trace at all at first glance.

At a certain point in the game, Indra gets stuck in her alternate drone form until she finds the right upgrade to become human (well, humanoid) again. She can still communicate with people, such as the survivors from Hammond Corp’s expedition and one of the Kazakh members of a Russian expedition that came through the portal and decided to settle a world upstream of Kiengir. However, coming back to revisit those areas and talk to those survivors later may result in them not being in the same spot anymore. Instead, there’s a sort of flying enemy that looks like a miniature version of the first boss of Axiom Verge. People who examined the game’s code found that there is actually an “infection” mechanic involved based on time elapsed since Indra comes in contact with the survivors.

That the survivors turn  into the types of monsters we see in Axiom Verge 1 is significant on its own, but it takes on more importance when we consider the endgame cutscenes. The Kazakhs have settled and colonized an upstream world, while a few of them are staying in an adjacent world where time passes differently; this is explicitly so that they can observe and track the changing of society over long spans of time and direct its evolution. After beating the final boss, Indra decides to team up with Drushka, the leader of the Kazakhs and a name mentioned in one of the notes found in Axiom Verge 1, in order to further her own goals.

Here’s the thing: What we see of the world that Drushka is standing watch in, called The Emergence, looks so similar to what we’ve seen of Sudra as to be almost identical. Given how time is explicitly stated to pass at different rates in different parts of the Breach compared to the worlds in the Worldstream, it isn’t out of the question that the Kazakhs were the ancestors of the Sudrans. The only problem with this theory is that long before anyone from earth showed up in Kiengir, the Lamassu had upstream technology brought in to allow the locals to defend themselves, as part of its broader directive to safeguard the Worldstream from disruption. Some of this technology included Rebirth Chambers - Indra even accesses the Filter through one - which was later destroyed to prevent too much cultural contamination. That technology had to come from somewhere, so either the Kazakhs inhabited a world adjacent to Sudra or downstream from it so there were similarities in art and culture and architecture, or the Rebirth Chambers and other advanced technology were themselves brought to Sudra from upstream worlds and simply shut down rather than completely destroyed after the Sudrans nearly wiped themselves out.

In either case, the important part is how Indra is subtly implied to be some sort of nanotech Typhoid Mary. She might be the actual source of the Pathogen that wipes out Sudra, not Athetos. In hindsight there is a hint to this effect in the first game because after Trace starts getting sick and hallucinating, there is a Rusalki called Ophelia that saves him. He doesn’t have any symptoms for the rest of the game, implying he is cured. If it was something unique to Trace that made him immune, he wouldn’t have gotten sick in the first place and neither would Athetos. Same with him getting better, if Trace could do it so could the original. So it had to be something unique to Ophelia that she couldn’t - or wouldn’t - do for anyone else.

And during Axiom Verge 2′s credits, we see a detailed close up look of Indra’s nanotech-enhanced body. The face and head look a LOT like Ophelia. Not conclusive by itself, but too similar to be completely shrugged off as coincidence.

And that has got me thinking.

I ended my first post pondering what Trace could have found in the Breach or while traveling the multiverse that caused a pacifist scientist to turn to genocide to achieve his ends. It’s possible that nothing could, because he didn’t. Maybe Athetos didn’t release the pathogen on Sudra, the Rusalki did; it’s shown in the notes that they resented the way that the Sudrans crippled them and reduced them basically to talking heads, but still had some influence over what was going on either through manipulating the priests or through exchange of data that the Sudrans were unaware of or incapable of understanding.

Athetos refers to the Rusalki as masters of war just before the final battle of Axiom Verge 1. He might have shown up at Sudra thousands of years prior to the events of the game as Trace, gotten healed, traveled up to the Filter to try to learn more, and then come back after the flow of time had changed to find a civilization on the verge of collapse from a virulent contagion that turned people into monsters. Trace may be a pacifist, but he will still use the Axiom Disrupter and all of its bells and whistles to protect himself in game. It’s entirely possible that the original realized that the Rusalki were trying to escape Sudra and would cause devastation throughout the Worldstream, and he applied his knowledge to create weapons and tools to turn himself into a one man army once he realized he couldn’t cure the pathogen. (Or maybe he did try to come up with a cure, and the Rusalki’s retaliation / interference was what made him realize what was actually going on.)

He doesn’t say any of this before his boss fight because he realizes that Trace and the Rusalki have the advantage now. Trace can keep coming back using the Rebirth Chambers, so Athetos has to come up with contingency plan. The secret ending shows Trace in a Dream Algorithm set up by one of the Rusalki, but Athetos shows up and shoots him, telling him it’s time to wake up. During his boss fight, Athetos shows the ability to manipulate the environment to a certain degree, spawning in new enemies and replacing power cells for the Breach Attractor when Trace destroys them. It’s not clear if this is a result of Sudran tech of being a PatternMind, but whatever the reason, it’s possible that Athetos was doing all of it to buy time.

Time for what?

To hack Trace’s Nanogates so that the Rusalki couldn’t control him anymore.

Trace keels over not long after the final battle, but Athetos showing up with a gun implies that Athetos was able to at least get a Trojan Horse into the nanogates that would wake Trace up when the remote overrides were disabled. Then Trace could wake up, find all his equipment again, and take the fight to the Rusalki before they could cause too much damage to the Worldstream, possibly including Earth.

The only truly glaring flaw in this theory is that it doesn’t account for why Indra would side with a bunch of genocidal robots, one way or another; she refers to the storage bay in Axiom Verge 1 as where “our bodies” are kept, and these are massive war machines, while her humanoid nanotech form is about human sized. The Lamassu refers to some fairly devastating war machines from upstream worlds and the Rusalki might just be those machines; she was heading to the world they were stored in because it might have the technology to restore one of her Apocalypse Arm upgrades - the child Damu that controls her drone body - to a flesh and blood body that can live a normal life.

There is a big gap between trying to help this kid she found and teaming up with sentient weapons platforms to devastate the multiverse. At least as big as the gap between Trace being a pacifist and Athetos committing genocide.

Like so many sequels, Axiom Verge 2 has raised even more questions than it answered.