#trying to revive a dead fandom from the grave

[thatsashitplan]

the haunting of bly manor/thobm incorrect quotes/textposts part 1!

[pa1nkill3r]

Day 2,557 [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x GN!Reader

[Summary:] A boy comes into the joke shop with his mother; It felt all too weird for the one-eared owner to feel so at ease, something he never felt for the past 7 years.

[Warnings:] angst, sad, major character death (not Fred obv), reincarnation, grief, mourning, swearing

[a/n:] Scrolling through facebook and getting videos of children talking about their past lives really intrigued me. This is my first fic and it might be bad so please don’t bully me, I’m sensitive <3 (jkjk but I am open for constructive criticism!)

[a/n; March 2024] I wrote this draft back in 2021 or 2022 I believe, waiting desperately for the opportunity to finish and post this. That time never came. Now, 2 or 3 years later, I gravely admire my vocabulary, creativity, and passion for writing back then. Honestly speaking, moving schools killed my spark and I am desperate to get it back. For now, I am working on reviving that spark within me by going back to where I started. Even though the HP fandom isn't as active as it used to be, I would still like to share this piece I made because I am so, so proud of my younger self.

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There was something about Y/N wearing white that George loved so much. He always got so giddy and cute which in turn made their eyes roll and mouth grin.

The way Y/N looked sitting at the Great Hall with their white sleeves rolled to their elbows, one hand under their chin and the other twirling a spoon while their eyes dragged along their charms textbook, cramming in as much information as they could for the upcoming test that afternoon. 

Or that time at the Yule Ball when they thought it’d be funny to wear an all white ensemble because: “What?...I wanted to feel like a bride at their wedding.” whilst having the best night with George, their “groom”.

Even small moments like when they would steal a shirt from George’s drawer and wear it to sleep. He loved every single bit of it, even if it cost him many shirts.

He truly never got enough of them wearing white. So seeing them in a casket wearing that same color 7 years ago, looking so peaceful and so… dead. That killed him. That’s the last time he will see them in white; That’s the last time he’s going to see them at all. 

That was the last time he could actually feel their hand rather than just dried oil on linen canvas, framed in oak and hung atop his bed. How he wished their eyes could roll one more time at how stupidly in love their boyfriend is with them, especially in white.

Voldemort’s reign of terror had ended, as well as the lives of many others, and maybe even George. They were a horcrux he never made, his life force created by deep love and affection rather than the hunger for immortality.

It never got easier even after 7 years, he simply just got used to it. 

He got used to the feeling of an empty bed. He got used to gripping onto a cold body pillow instead of a warm figure and a heartbeat with Y/H/C hair disturbing his lips. He got used to counting the days since their death which gravely disturbed Fred, his twin. He got used to waking up everyday and checked off a box from the calendar with an absurd amount of numbers on it. 

Admittedly he is doing better than he did 7 years ago. No more jumping from every small sound and drawing out his wand in the middle of the night. No more vivid dreams of several dead bodies laid across the Great Hall. No more crying himself to sleep. No more missed dinners. No more grieving. 

He’s longed for them longer than he has actually been with them. But his love never faltered. Not once. 

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Day 2,557

It's now exactly 7 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. And in a month it would be the 7th anniversary of his obituary for Y/N on the Daily Prophet, a suggestion made by Percy to try and help his grieving brother. It helped, but not really. 

The small May 2nd, 2005 box wrote “Baby Vic’s Birthday!” in bold red ink. George moved the yellow paper star that stuck gently onto the calendar with paper tape as Fred walked into his room. Envelope in his hands, bread between his teeth, and a beautiful haughty looking owl on his shoulder.

“Fun to finally see you up, Georgie!” Fred greeted sarcastically as George hummed in response. “Bill just sent an owl that little Vicky’s turning 5!"

"That is usually how birthdays work, Freddie." George joked, grabbing his wand and with a flick, his bed is magically fixed. "I'm not a dumbass, you know?" Fred chuckled lightly as he handed George the letter from Bill and Fleur, "They're hosting a party for her at the Burrow at 5."

He took the piece of parchment and flattened it by his desk before pulling it closer to his face, his back mindlessly pinning itself to the wall. 

Dear Fred and George, 

Bill here, As you should know, it's baby Victoire's 5th birthday today and we would really like love to have you two come by the Burrow at 5 pm. 

Vic really misses you both. Uncle George this, Uncle Fred that. She’s going to be like you two one day, I’m tellin’ ya. She loves listening to stories you tell her, especially the ones about Y/N and Tonks. She thinks that they’re the coolest people ever and that she wished she could meet them. I simply told her that one day she would, but it’ll be far far away from now. 

Hope to see you later! Please owl back immediately, Vic’s got Ginny’s temper.

xx Bill

“I’ve already owled them my ‘happy birthday’ letter before Chouette came.” Chouette, the owl cooed at the mention of her name. Slightly shuffling her feathers therefore lightly tickling Fred's neck, making him shiver. The haughty owl flew from Fred's shoulder to George's making the younger twin chuckle. 

"Seems like Chouette is telling you to take a bath, mate." George laughed as the back of Fred's hand flew to his forehead. "I got us crepes and bread for breakfast! And you go on and call me stinky?" Fred exclaimed dramatically. 

"How 'bout you be a dear and write to Bill and Fleur that we are going to Vic's party, alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that." George agreed, taking out a roll of parchment from his desk drawer as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. "While I eat my breakfast and write this, will you be a dear and take a bath!" Fred cackled at his younger brother's statement. Though in a bit the sound of water dropping down the shower head echoed through the small flat above the shop.

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School owls poured in as numerous Hogwarts students wanted to take advantage of the annual “54% off ‘End of War’ sale” at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes held in memory of the fallen 50. Because in Fred and George’s philosophy, “...We might not be able to save them, but they can save our customers over 50% off of all our products!”

It seemed insensitive but it’s the thought that counts. They wanted to make sure that their passing didn’t go to waste, even if it is counted as a discount to the famous Diagon Alley shop. 

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were rather busy picking up and shipping out their joke products, sending it to the owls who were perched up in a little area at the back of the store, nibbling on insects Verity; a part of their staff had handed them before sending them back to the school her bosses previously dropped out of. 

It was nearing lunch time when everyone wearing magenta robes stocked up the shelves again, having been sending out owls since 8 in the morning when they heard a clanging from the front doors, signaling that a customer had finally came; A middle aged woman looked starstruck whilst holding onto a young boy that’s slowly getting out of her grip, having the same eagerness as his mother.

It wasn’t unusual for customers to react this way coming into the Weasley’s joke shop. The boy’s eyes sparkled while the mother looked in admiration. The mother crouched down to hold onto her son, keeping him from running while his mouth spilled with words. 

“Mum, we have to get something for Mia!” the boy cried out eagerly, eyes darting towards every single corner of the store. George’s mouth upturned into a sloppy grin whilst listening to the boy. 

“Marty, that’s sweet of you, but we already got the quill she wanted.” The mother said quietly, running her hands over the boy’s shoulders, easing it. “And it’s your birthday...” George didn’t know what came after that as he took the chance and walked towards the small family with a big smile on his face, quickly followed by Fred. 

“Heard it’s a little man’s birthday.” inclined George, hands in his pockets and head down turned. The mother looked up and stood from her spot, giggling slightly as she kept a hold of her son’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked, now being the one to crouch down in front of the boy.

The boy tilted his head to the side, eyes slightly strained. He looked both confused and hyper focused at the same moment. Though weird, George thought nothing of it. After all, he was a kid, the man he’s looking at has one ear, and the hyperfixation was quickly ended by the slight shake of his shoulders. The mother looked down at her son, silently telling him to introduce himself. And so he did. 

"I'm Martin! I turn 6 today!" the boy said enthusiastically,bringing a smile on George's face. Being around Martin felt odd, it felt so unapologetically peaceful and rather… familiar. 

"SIX?!" Fred loudly piped in. "Well now that's big, little man!" 

The mother was slightly startled by the appearance of the ginger's twin, though the same cannot be said about Martin who simply smiled absentmindedly. 

"I knew you before." said Martin, eyes targeting the younger twin. George smiled and kept close to the boy, keeping the conversation going. "Really?" he asked with vivid curiosity, he did not recognise the boy or his mother but fueling a child's imagination wouldn't hurt anyone. 

"How?" piped in Fred, now also crouching beside his twin, "And why just him?" he asked comedically, pointing to his brother. 

"Since we were 11." Answered Martin with no signs of struggle on his face. The red haired owners looked at each other, though more in disbelief than in confusion. 

"Thought you said you were 6, Martin?" George asked with a kind look on his face. The boy’s mother shook her son’s shoulder harder than she did the past few times, mumbling “Marty, what did I tell you?” in tired disbelief.

“M’sorry mum.” Martin said with a pinch of sincerity before turning back to face the bigger man in front of him. “I was 20 before I became 6.” “Marty.”

Chilling, the owners thought. As they were 20 at the time of the battle of Hogwarts. 

“I’m so sorry Mr.--”

“Weasley.” Fred replied as the confusion simmered throughout his twin brother. “S’really nothing to worry about Mrs.--?”

“Edevane. But I truly am sorry, he’s just a very imaginative little kid. Always has stories of his quote-unquote ‘past life’.“ she explained, making the kid become a bit mad. “But mum, it’s true!-”

“Marty, how about we look around the store, alright? Mr. and Mr. Weasley could show us around perhaps?” Mrs. Edevane hinted to the twin owners, relief gracing their legs as they were now able to stand on their feet. 

“Yes, we can certainly do that! Come along Marty, tell us more about this ‘past life’ of yours.” Fred’s arm wrapped around the small boy’s shoulders, showing him around the color filled shop. “Sorry about that Mrs. Edevane.” he added mischievously, “Here at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, we like to encourage creativity and imagination.”

“--As it is the reason we got here.” George finished, giving Mrs. Edevane a kind smile as they start roaming around the shop. “Uhh. Mr. Weasley.” Her fingers tapped onto George’s shoulder. His head whipped around and mouth about to open when suddenly the 6 year old spoke; “Mum, Mr. Weasley’s name is George. This one’s Fred.”

The utter shock that went through the twin wizards was clear as day. No where in the shop did it say the owner’s names. Even their name tags; The little badge pinned on their suits merely wrote ‘Mr. Weasley’. Fred, being the initiator that he is, leaned forward. “Now how can you be so sure, Marty?” he teased, “What if I tell you that you’re wrong?”

Martin simply smiled, angling his head a bit to the side again. “Mr. George has a longer face, down turned eyes and eyebrows, he’s a bit taller than you, Mr. Fred. You have a squarer face and shorter features than him.” he explained smoothly and innocently. As if it’s something he’s observed over the course of his whole life.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your son’s a genius.” George joked, even if he’s visibly disturbed, though nonetheless intrigued. Nobody has ever differentiated them this way, even their own mother. Though one person did. The one he cherished most. The mother smiled, holding onto her son once again. 

“I’m no genius.” Martin spoke, a shy smile gracing his small little lips, so identical to the person’s portrait above George’s bed. He even said their typical response to their mind being praised. 

“-- I just quietly observe.”

Martin spoke but George merely whispered. A shiver ran through his spine, heart pumping, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. It could’ve all been a coincidence. One big coincidence served on a silver platter, garnished with confusion and terrifying accuracy. 

“Mr. Weasley?”

He snapped back, giving the woman a sign to continue. “Uh, I just wanted to ask... err. Why that big of a discount? Why is it 54% off of everything? That doesn’t really sound like a good marketing strategy, doesn’t it?” She asked curiously. 

“Well Mrs. Edevane.” George started, seeing as Fred and little Martin were still going around the shop. “Remember the last wizarding war?” Mrs. Edevane shook her head. His smile faltered a bit but still kept his composure. “We’re, what you call it? Muggle--born?” Her eyebrows furrowed while her teeth sinked into her bottom lip. “Well, my daughter... err. Just started her first year and that McGonagall woman said that she’s a ‘muggleborn’.” 

They truly didn’t know who they are.

“-- What I’m trying to say, Mr. Weasley, is that we, or at least I, am not magical. Nor is my husband.” He nodded, breathed in a bit as his mind tried to ease itself. The boy couldn’t have known who he is as they wouldn’t have known anything about the prophet, or could they?

“Well, Mrs. Edevane. 7 years ago at this date. The second wizarding war has ended. My brother-in-law defeated... him.” It was still hard to say his name, even years later. “V-Voldemort.”

She looked curious but silently let him continue. “Uh, remember when. Uh-uhm that bridge collapsed in muggle london? 7-8 years ago? A big hurricane happened? When a lot died like-” It was hard to explain. Truly. It was hard to live through it again.

“Like that Emmeline Vance lady?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed. “It was all caused by him. By wizards! Dark wizards!” Her previously bright face now looked horror struck. It was all making sense. “Seven years ago, this day. Everything ended at Hogwarts. As well as the lives of 54 on our side.” He wanted to mention one very special loss, but figured that she doesn’t need to know about it. She was just a muggle mother who brought her son birthday shopping. “We wanted to commemorate them.”

A sincere look graced upon her face, out of pity. “Is there any chance that you’ve seen anything from the ‘Daily Prophet’, Mrs. Edevane? Or your son?” He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She shook her head, now gracing a look with pure confusion. “A-Anything. Like a paper? A newspaper with moving photographs? Or maybe a-a Quibbler?”

She shook her head. “Why’re you asking Mr. Weasley?” His mouth opened, about to burst out his concerns and held in grief to a complete stranger when; “George!”

It was Fred, hand resting on his twin’s shoulder as the six year old boy beside him just stood. “-- Can I talk to you? I need to talk to you.” He said, fright gracing his features and panic in his voice. 

George nodded, bidding a quick goodbye to the mother and son who came in a few moments ago and calling for one of their faculty to give them the tour they wanted.

Fred pulled his twin to an empty corner of the shop. Sound muffled by the stacks of products ranging from fireworks to extendable ears. “That boy George.” Fred panted. Voice shaking. “He knows too much. Is there a chance that you put anything about how Y/N saved me?”

“Briefly. Why?” His heart was about to pop out of his chest at any moment. Any moment now his heart would be a new WWW product. 

“He explained everything! Everything George! Knew things that he shouldn’t have!” Fred said, terrified. “What did he say?” asked George. Croaking out whatever’s left in his heaving lungs. 

“He said that he saved me. Me and Percy! From the explosion! I didn’t think much of it at first, George! I knew that you wrote that in their obituary. But he just kept going.” Frightened. They were both frightened. “Everything they did. He knew.”

“How accurate was he?”

“Very. George. Disturbingly accurate.” Back straightened and composed, Fred stood back, eyes darting back and forth from his brother to the entrance of the shop. “He knew that they transfigured the rubble to sand. He knew that they cast that ring of fire shit they did. The diabolica thing to ward off the death eaters? Yeah. He named the spell. HE NAMED THE SPELL, GEORGE!”

“I heard you the first time!” George yelled back. Disturbed, yet he felt at peace. He could have the last goodbye he’s always wanted. “We need to talk to the boy, Fred.”

His twin nodded fervently, about to walk away from the corner when he felt an arm tug on his elbow. “Oi, how can we do it without worrying the mother?”

“Give whatever he wants for free. It’s his birthday after all. Now come on!”

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[cloudninetonine]

*walks on in, pats Wild on the head, offers you tea, downs coffee like a shot, sits down tiredly * Heya folks, so how we feeling about that trailer huh Lu and Zelda fandom?

*reads what Hylia did to Prime, sips more coffee* So what you're saying is that Hylia straight up Pure Vessel'ed the guy like how the Radiance did the Pure Vessel in Hollow Knight, got it, even more reasons for Una and Player to body her, and me actually- *cracks knuckles* Time to put those age old judo lessons to good use and make some fried chicken, you know I'm half tempted to write some headcanons on that now Cloud- but this ain't about him for now, next ask maybe.

Now some Lora and Operetta shenanigans for the lols:

-There's this mechanic in Cadence of Hyrule that, if Link, Zelda or Cadence die, they can be revived by the Fates or gain strenghtment's and items by meeting them (which are highly implied to be less strong versions of Farore, Nayru, Din and Hylia, who Octavo bodies by stealing their Threads of Fate to make the Golden Lute, forcing them to move to it's rhythm like everyone else hence why I think Cadence of Hyrule is an inflection point between Legend's and Hyrule's time, since by Legend's they're slightly more forgotten but by Hyrule's they're not even mentioned, Octavo just did what we all arguably wanted: straight up vibe checked the gods, the one good thing Vaati's bloodline did besides giving us Four's Shadow Link), although you lose items upon death so you can't get too comfortable specially if you have really good gear like the Glass Weapons, so neither Lora or Operetta are really impressed by them and are also very casual about death, Player probably already knows this if they played Cadence of Hyrule, imagine if Lora or Operetta straight up die near the Chain, and either one or both plus Player are just, casual about it specially when afterwards (maybe midburial or the Chain trying to figure out what the heck they're going to do with the body of one of their own or with the Princess of Hyrule herself) they just, spring back up after a few hours.

------

Player, ignoring the freak out of the Chain as they casually snatch the weapons from Lora's and Operetta's downed bodies and neatly setting them inside, as well as a few supplies: Chill everyone, they're fine.

Wild, having flashbacks: What do you MEAN fine Lora just took a Guardian beam and Operetta got stabbed by a Lynel-!

Legend, glaring: Why the FUCK are you looting their corpses?!

Player, inching backwards with Lora in her arms when Hyrule tries taking him for a burial: It's not looting! They're fine, give them a few.

Lora, mildly annoyed as he wakes up and freaks out the rest of the Chain as Player sets him down: Alright, OW. *Looks at Wild* Was this what downed you the first time around? If so then I can definitely see why you don't like those things. Definitely not going to do a performance blunder like that ever again. Your monsters are officially the worst.

Four: What the- you were dead, we literally just saw you die!

Operetta, dragging herself out of the grave Warriors put her into, brushing dirt off her hair: Death is a social construct, now where is-

Player, handing her a spear: Here.

Lora, politely staying put so Hyrule can check him over, but scanning around for something: And what about-

Player, also handing him a sword: You really didn't think I'd let you guys lose those did you? Those are hard to get.

Lora, giving them a grin: And this is why you're my favorite dance partner.

Operetta, giving Player a considering look, before turning to Lora: Hey, Lora, you know I love you like a brother right?

Lora: ... Usually I'd say yes, but this feels like it will be followed by something I won't like to hear.

Operetta: Just answer the damn question Coloratura.

Lora, rolling his eyes: Yes yes, I know don't worry.

Operetta, nodding: Good, glad we have that covered. *Turns to the rest of the Chain with narrowed eyes* If none of you shape up and have the balls to confess and start a courtship with them, then either I'll help set them up with Link or add them to the royal family myself via marriage. Either way it's a win for me, you're heroes of courage! Show me that you fit the job description.

Lora, choking and dying again in the back with a stunned Player:

(No kidding she probably would just to mess with Lora or help things move along).

-Operetta would absolutely shank both of Villain Hyrule's Zelda's if Lora didn't already ballet or tango all over them just because they're her best friend's descendant, Cadence would help and persuade Octavo to help too, something tells me the Villain Chain and the Singularity would be very confused.

-Since Player is associated with Geese, and Swans are basically angrier versions of geeses (no joke, there's some black European Swans here in a park near my place and I've once seen those suckers body a man), Lora and a ballerina Player performing the Swan Lake Pax de Deux:

https://youtu.be/077BgT3h6As

Occasionally Operetta cuts in just to spice things up, taking the role of the prince for the giggles, also, can absolutely see Lora and a ballerina Player accidentally default to ballet moves mid battle to get each other away in his Hyrule, he'll lift them up, they'll tug him down, he'll spin them, they'll kick a bokoblin in the face middance (preferably with heels for maximum effect), or they'll tango with each other and they won't even realize they're doing it because they're so used to dancing with a partner they won't even get it, like they'll just straight up do the Firebird Suite or something: https://youtu.be/EC6MmmLKEmA

And literally any and all Links are just punching the air.

They'll also speak exclusively in musical references once Lora is all caught up with Player's musicals:

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Lora, deadpanning at Legend and his distrust of Player: You know, you keep calling them a witch, but I haven't seen them doing anything wicked yet.

Player, a little shit: I don't know I'm feeling a little Wicked right now, I could probably put you under a spell.

Lora, A Theater Nerd: Oh? Perhaps like nothing could bring you down?

Player: And I could probably do it non-stop!

Lora: You're like me, never will be satisfied by just a little huh?

Player: Not as long as you're mine.

Lora: Then how could I possibly say no to this?

Player: You couldn't, you got me helpless after all.

Hyrule, straight up stomping on Legend's foot, hissing: You just had to get them started again didn't you?

They're straight up unknowingly flirting with musical references (either platonically or not) and either some member of the Chain unknowingly joins in because they've been bit by the musical bug and delights the two theater nerds or the Chain straight up suffers until they run out of references to make.

-Lora definitely tries to set up Hyrule and Player every chance he gets, I don't make the rules.

I'll probably figure out more stuff for them later before this gets long.

On another note, Ancient Au crumbs:

-It's basically confirmed Fia/Seraph probably could use magic without the aid of a Sheikah Slate due to how his hand behaves, so he likely could do it on his own as well, I can definitely see him teaching Player how to tap into Zonai magic and, to escalate things further as she literally helped create it, Una teaches then how they can hack into Sheikah Tech since I headcanon it's a mix of Zonai magic and Sheikah magic and technology (Player riding into battle on a Guardian Una helped them hack into when the murder horse or their fluffy wolf buddy isn't nearby my beloved-)

-Dia (short for Ferdiad aka Fia's Ganon, named after one of the two warriors who could match Cú Chulainn) probably didn't stay with the Gerudo long after he earned his freedom in the coliseum, he likely met Fia after he earned his freedom as well and, after running through the same gladiator cycles, I feel like he'd snatch up any other unsuspecting and victorious warrior he could and form a mercenary band so they wouldn't have to return to that life again, probably asking Fia to tag along and Fia agreeing, because that way not only could he be near his shield brother but he could also keep finding strong opponents along the way which is a win-win, it was during one of those travels where they met Una who, after testing them both via what might have been a tech powered Lynel or a prototype of the Guardians, asked Fia to be both a bridge between her and the Zonai (since he's Macha's brother, Macha being his Aryll/Linkle and the Zonai leader through right of conquest) and her personal guard because that would give her more freedom to move around outside the castle and have the added bonus of no one trying to push guards on her and she having to come up with more and more ridiculous trials so she can turn them away, he agreed and they started traveling together or saw each other during their travels, until during one of those together Fia got the Master Sword, which is when Dia started getting worse due to Demise's curse intensifying and him being unable to resist after a while. Una tried separating him and Demise's spirit like how most Zelda's are separated from Hylia, but Hylia blocked her abilities off mid way when she saw what she was doing was not killing him, which caused the First Calamity. And for trying to go against 'fate' (but really just because Una defied her, rejected her and straight up tried to shank her because Una refused to kill Dia if there was any possible avenue of getting her shield brother back and didn't take well to Hylia trying to take over her body to do it or trying to have a go at 'encouraging' Fia), she blocked off her powers until she finally caved, when she saw that her shield brother was less Dia and more Calamity Ganon and after Fia/Seraph had to get a new arm and there wasn't much of a choice anymore. Plus I headcanon Una would be a history nerd the same way Flora is towards science, so she could probably trace back all the problems with all of the Links and Zeldas back towards Hylia and Demise if she kept digging, so she straight up loathes and dislikes them both equally.

(Not pictured:

Una, on her own murder horse with Craein, sharpening her spear, towards Fia, Player and the Villain Chain, in a Mean Girls tune: Follow me folks we're commiting deicide and vibe checking a goddess.)

She probably feels bad for Flora, because she feels it's her fault she wasn't able to get her powers earlier, but is also proud of her for doing it eventually and is super supportive of her scientific pursuits, also snorts at the whole 'praying to Hylia to figure out how to unlock her powers bit's because, and I quote "And what does your father know? No Zelda could hear her, she won't help you with that, you're a scientist aren't you? So do like I did, think like one, experiment, go wild, you didn't do anything wrong or aren't worthy or anything, you just need to look at it with a fresh perspective."

-Remember when I mentioned the Grettir thing? Grettir the strong was a warrior in an Icelandic Saga, know primarily for his many ghost punching feats, one day he killed an specially corrupted undead being (sound familiar?) Who cast a curse on him, the undead saying that while he couldn't take his current strenght away he could do other nasty stuff after the ghost wrestling with his second dying breath, declaring that Grettir would never be as strong as he was when facing him (Glam the undead by the way), that all his good deeds would turn sour and foster hatred and rejection towards him, and for bonus spice Glam nightmarish eyes will haunt him forever from within the dark and that Grettir's life would spiral into torment and isolation until he eventually died alone. By the way that's the etymological root of the word glamour.

That but it's Fia after the Calamity is sealed under the Castle, maybe he was either cursed or corrupted and, after tying up as many lose ends as he could with Una so Wild would have an easier time (not that it worked), and it motivated him to kill himself beneath Hyrule Castle to keep Dia down a bit longer, where Wild would eventually find his body and arm (and presumably where Player may meet him for the first time), just really ramp up the angst, maybe he did that so hopefully Wild would be spared that.

-Context on Craein, they're Ancient Au Player aka The Player with the no good, awful, very bad day of instead of being transported to the Chain and the Hyrules we know, they were Isekaied to Ancient Au with little to no context to help them with. Like think about it, Player, as a Zelda fan, was lucky to be transported mid LU and to Hyrule's we know, Twilight Princess, Ocarina of Time, even BOTW which is arguably the most dangerous one, they know them like the back of their hand due to playing a lot, they were lucky not to end in times we know little about like First's or the Hero of Men's, Craein didn't have that luck and so they had to adapt quickly and alone before running into Fia (well, more like he chased them down while they cursed him out because they were trying not to get involved in the plot, it's a whole story for another ask if you're interested), even joining a group of Gerudo bandits as a bard/distraction because Player probably would know a lot of stories (be they Hylian or myths from our world), they eventually get close to Fia, Una and Dia and help things run along before dying some time after Fia/Seraph lost his arm from getting corrupted by Malice and Hylia refusing to allow Una to heal them because Dink was interfering, they become a blight and either Fia or Una put them out of their misery, after their work is done presumably Player's Aid happens, Craein means 'Crane' and they're essentially the equivalent of 'guiding birds' in Irish Myth for being associated with knowledge and Lugh. They're essentially a more feral version of Player that, while not very good at fighting, can definitely hold their own, they're still a gremlin and besties with Fia and Una, but much more jaded due to the nature of Ancient Au, also probably was touched by Zonai magic rather than Sheikah magic.

(Not pictured:

Player, mildly horrified: Who the heck are you?!

Craein, laughing hysterically as they finger gun back from atop Fia's murder horse, after having ridden them straight into Dink and their hood fell off: You but more ✨Traumatized!✨~ Deck Hylia for me if you do see her alright? Also, stay away from any Malice you see, capiche?

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

Villain/Yandere Chains: Oh by the goddesses, ♥️Player♥️, I have fallen for you-

Craein, slinging Player over their shoulder and going towards Fia on the murder horse, the man unamused and cracking his knuckles and Una straight up pulling a knife from her dress: Well don't. Stand the fuck up and leave them alone. Stand up!

Craein would straight up body any of them and Hylia, they're on their thirteeth reason after the Ancient Au and fear nothing anymore)

And that's that for now, tired and my brain is failing me, more Ancient Au and Cadence of Hyrule crew shenanigans another day, hope you're having a good day!

-Just a Tired Summertime Musician.

HEYA SUM GOOD TK SEE YOU DROP BY AGAIN!

First, I would like to start off that this version of Hylia is basically the version who just went "Ya know what, free will is for losers." And become known as the Tyrant Goddess in hopes of making the Golden Three proud by demanding complete obedience of everyone by deciding that she'll only let things considered "good" be part of her perfect little world. (She forgets that our Golden girlies don't care and she's just fucking over her people)

I'll be calling this version Martinet- girly almost completely tippes the scales of balance because she's got this deluded belief that she's doing the right thing by oppressing everyone and making them live under strict rules- Demise is literally the only thing keeping Martinet for turning not only Hyrule but the entire world into a police state.

Bro is still affliated with darkness too, all the Ganons are, he's just trying not to have the golden three wipe the entire face of existence because Hylia doesn't know how to behave.

So yeah, love that for her /s

ANYWAY

I feel with Player knowing that the two would come back from the dead it would still make them have a mental break seeing their corpses collapse onto the floor- sure, with age comes desensitisation but it's not stopping Player from flinching each time.

Also Player after Operetta's words just "🫢🫢😶😶🔇🔇"

Also also- Let Lora and Player be drama needs, they deserve it and a ballerina dance? Perfect for them, enough doubt Player can bend that way they'll certainly still try NFMWMDMSM

LOVING THE RETURN OF OUR FAVOURITE PREQUEL WILD CHILD 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 HE HAS BEEN MISSED AS HAS UNA AND DIA

Also loving Craein, give Player their protector, they've had enough, they've put on 20 years while still being 19 going on 20 NDNNQNXJW

[randoimago]

Hello! May I please requests Percy, Vax, Vex, and Scanlan with an S/O who doesn't understand human interaction much, and so they thought the best gift they could give would be reviving the character's dead relatives but also doesn't know enough to realize that zombies dont count as reviving people?

S/O Gifting Dead Parents Due to not Knowing Social Cues

FANDOM: Critical Role

Character(s): Vax’ildan, Vex’ahlia, Scanlan Shorthalt, Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski De Rolo III

Type of Request: Headcanons

Word Count: 295

Note(s): Wow this got dark quickly.

Percy

First of all, good luck finding the bodies because the Briarwoods absolutely desecrated them.

Okay but he’d be a bit impressed that you managed to break into the family crypts but that isn’t enough to hide his rage.

He knows human interaction isn’t your thing, but to attempt to bring back his family? They went through hell and deserve to rest now!

Percy would make someone else explain to you why what you did is stupid and obviously bad.

Scanlan

So Scanlan hasn’t told anyone about his mother that much besides her name. This is information he trusted you with.

Like don’t even try explaining to Scanlan why you did what you did because this is information only you know!

You have betrayed his trust so badly and he really doesn’t want to talk to you or have anything to do with you now, really.

Will tell you to stay away from both him and Kaylie.

Vax and Vex

Both of them react pretty much the same way with being hurt and betrayed.

I mean, they probably don’t even know where their mother’s body is since she was killed by Thordak.

Like Vex would sense you were planning something before you did it and she’d try to talk and stop you then. 

Like why couldn’t you just get them flowers or something instead? Sure you’re absolute shit at acting like a person, but not once have they mentioned wanting their mother back from the grave. They miss her but not that badly.

General Consensus

If an S/O did this for any of them then that relationship is going to be over. It doesn’t matter the reasoning because that’s fucked up and they’ve all been through hell. To be presented with a zombie of a dead relative would be enough for them.

[butwhyduh]

The Worst Batfam Story Ever Written

I don’t half ass things and this fic is a full ass.

This is not my opinion of the characters and in fact a parody of it. Just know that every bit of serious hate I get based on this fic, I will add one semicolon to the story. That is a threat. There is nothing serious in this and no warning.

It was a long stormy night in Titan’s Tower and Tim Drake had just got finished crying over his sad pathetic life as a son of a billionaire when there was a loud scratching on the door. He looked over in absolute terror, knowing that his skinny noodle arms would never protect him in a real fight. His only hope was his giant massive brain that he normally used to consume anime and down coffee like it was life blood.

Jason scratched again at the door with a massive fishing hook. He had just seen I know What You Did Last Summer and Damn if he didn’t love the drama. The murder. The murder drama. He loves murder.

He could see Tim, tiny tiny Robin, shivering like a wet kitten. He was definitely gonna kill this kitten. There was no other options and no way this story would end different. Tim was furiously typing away on a computer

Tim had a massive headache. He was desperately trying to contact the other heroes outside of the tower to come protect him but no one answered. Not even Dick all the way across the country living his own life in Bludhaven. How dare he be so selfish, Tim thought bitterly. Now I’m gonna die like everyone else in my life.

He felt his heart start to beat rapidly as the evil monster Red Hood hacked at the door with a hatchet he kept in a holster on his massive thigh for moments just like this. Ever since he had to dig himself out of his own grave after being murdered by the joker, Jason carried a hatchet just in case.

The door splintered and tim jumped to his feet only to sway. Oh no, when was the last time he had coffee? It was more that two hours earlier. He wouldn’t survive a fight without it.

And much to the confusion and amusement of Jason, Tim hurried to start a pot of coffee instead of going to the panic room. How pathetic is this kid?

Tim’s hand shook as he barely was strong enough to lift the carafe to fill the coffee pot with water. The door burst open and Tim saw Red Hood’s massive long legs strolling inside before he fainted to the floor.

A habit instilled in Jason from his time as the worst angriest Robin ever had taught him to catch people who faint. So the man who cut off mob lieutenants’ heads in his free time, caught the fragile Robin like a broken bird and laid him to the ground.

Like the Grinch growing his heart sizes, Jason suddenly felt other emotions beside rage and furious horniness. Protectiveness. Who was watching this child? Who let this baby be hurt? Was no one watching him? Dick should have been a better brother. There was literally no adult figure that Jason could be mad at first over him.

“God, someone has to save you from yourself,” he muttered before getting up. He grabbed a cup and gently cooled coffee until it was safe. He held Tim’s head and gently fed him the drink.

Tim slowly started reviving like a man receiving an antidote to poison. Jason hugged him tight and gently pet his hair. “You’re too pure for this word,” he wailed.

“I’m what,” Tim asked in his half stupored state.

“Shhhh, just sleep,” Jason said and Tim fell into a gentle naive sleep on the drug lord vigilante would be murderer. As soon as he was certain the ever so tiny boy was asleep, Jason got up without waking him to call Dick. He had a blinding hot rage for Bruce but now Dick too was abandoning a Robin. To die. Death. Another death.

“How dare you leave him alone! I almost murdered him,” Jadon snarled.

“What?? But I can’t get up! Damian just fell asleep on me with his paci and elephant stuffy like all eleven year olds do! I’m basically his father!” Dick also wailed.

“Well…” Jason said.

“Well,” Dick responded.

“I’ll just have to corrupt him to being a villain,” Jason finally said. He could teach the gentle depressed child at a tender age of seventeen how to become a murderer. If there was 2 mass murdering Robin’s in Gotham, then there would be less crime. That math made perfect sense.

“You can’t! He has the most tragic backstory of all Robins and I already fired him!” Dick gasped.

“It is true. He has the saddest story. I’m instead going to barely join the family again and steal your long time best friend and ex girlfriend to be my friends,” Jason answered.

“If you must. But leave the children out of it,” Dick said weeping before Jason hung up in abject rage.

———————————

Back at the Wayne Manor in Gotham, NJ

Bruce Wayne sat at the cold dark last seat at the end of the long cold banquet table that reminded him of his dead parents. Both shot. Pearl necklace broken.

The tiny sliver of his heart filled with paternal instinct shot through him like lightning.

“Don’t you know I brood on Friday night?” He growled. “Alfred, ready the bat plane. I have to physically abuse one of my boys.”

“What will I tell Master Duke and Miss Cassandra who will expect you in the morning?”

“I don’t know, man! They never add them to the stories!”

I write this in part of the huge influx of people saying that they hate the fandom interpretation of the characters when in reality even in comics are they rarely consistent in writing and everyone just picks what they like. So let’s not take it that seriously and just consume content you want.

[scripttorture]

You likely don't follow Dream Smp but there was just a reveal that one person (Character A) is torturing another (Character B, former villain, now in prison) for info on necromancy while the warden of the prison gave CA the equipment to do it and is ignoring CB's screams for help. And half the fandom is trying to justify it with "oh, CB deserves it for threatening to kill a child, killing (1/2)

another child (who he then revived, not justifying /that/ though) and manipulating/abusing the latter." Not only that, but so many people are telling off anyone who pointing out how messed up it is (and don't worry, the story itself so far is showing that it's messed up and won't work) with "it's just fiction, get over it." Like I am legit concerned over how many people are claiming it's cathartic and the character deserves it for their actions. Rant over I guess (2/2) (Dream smp anon) And I forgot to add that this character was /already/ being tortured; he has been in complete solitary confinement for upwards of 2 months and is being starved) and was actively self-harming and destroying items in his cell in a bid to get the warden to come replace them (looking for social interactions, even if it was negative) and people STILL thought that wasn't "enough of a punishment"

-

I have no idea what this show? Comic? Piece of media is but I’m happy to give my opinion on the general situation and use of violence in fiction*.

 But I’m not here to take sides in fandom wars and the aim of this blog is not to tell people they can’t write about violence or abuse. It’s to make people think about how it’s used in stories and hopefully create something that’s more realistic and respectful to real survivors.

 At the end of the day the reason I’m interested in fiction is because it effects our perception of real survivors. When so much of our popular media is unrealistic in ways that demean survivors that has an effect. I want to remind people that while the violent acts we write about are fiction, similar acts are happening to real people today.

 Torture survivors are real. They’re human and they deserve respect.

 Here’s the thing Anon, the people you’re mad at are real too. And the characters that sparked this are not.

 There’s nothing wrong with having a strong emotional respond to fiction. There’s nothing wrong with getting frustrated with how pigheaded or outright bigoted fandom can be. But it is worth questioning whether responding to this kind of thing is worth it.

 Arguments over fictional characters can become extremely heated and result in real world harm. And so long as you’re engaging with stuff in a purely fictional context… well I think the chances of being dismissed, belittled etc are significantly higher. (Note however that being dismissed and belittled still happens when you’re dealing with torture in the real world.)

 This is not fair. That does not change other people’s responses or the cultural climate.

 I will be blunt; if you are writing and reading in English the majority of fans you deal with will be Western and white. I have personally found this intersection very likely to treat violence as something purely fictional. I have found them unlikely to consider torture as a reality unless they are prompted to.

 And from my side of things that prompting is often like dropping an anvil on someone’s foot during the conversation.

 Believe me I get it. It is infuriating to see real, deadly torture techniques interpreted as harmless. It is hurtful seeing torture victims blamed for their own suffering. This happens on the news as often as it does in fandom so the fact these feelings are being set off by something fictional doesn’t make a lot of difference. Because these arguments are used in the real world against real people.

 Seeing torture apologia touted as this weeks hot take is something you are allowed to be mad about. I’d be a hypocrite if I said otherwise.

 But educating other people is hard work and you are talking about a piece of media aimed at children. You are probably talking to children. If you’re a teenager yourself it might be hard to hear it put like that.

 It’s still true.

 If you really want to have these conversations in your fandom then you need to centre the reality. Underestimating or dismissing the damage solitary confinement and starvation do to people is serious because it props up real world systems of abuse. Because it justifies ‘tough’ sentences to level of isolation that leave people mutilated by their own hand, or unable to function in society. Or dead. Because it leads to doctors ‘prescribing’ diets used in death camps.

 Here’s the thing, talking about that reality to children is a fraught process. Especially when they’re children who don’t have any experience of seeing this stuff. And unless you’re their parent or teacher educating them is not your job.

 Sending them down an internet rabbit hole that leads to photos of real injuries, real torture, real mass graves… I think that has the potential to go very badly.

 Enjoying something and then discovering that the fandom is toxic is unpleasant. But my impression is that’s the problem here: the fandom interactions are leaving you feeling like shit.

 Disengage.

 You do not need the fandom to enjoy uh… whatever Dream smp is. You do not need their permission and if the fandom is a negative space for you, you are allowed to leave.

 If some of these people are your friends then by all means try to privately explain why their words hurt you and use this blog as a resource. But ask yourself how much you want to be friends first because that is a long painful process that might not work.

 Torture apologia is everywhere and fixing it is going to take decades.

 Accept that you can not control other people’s actions. Accept that some people will always be assholes.

 If seeing torture apologia hurts you then… you probably need to find a piece of media without torture to enjoy. Because apologia is so present that I think that’s the only way to completely avoid coming across it in fandom.

 Once again I understand. I’ve volunteered to be bombarded with this stuff every day. It is upsetting. It is also embedded our global culture and the popular media exported to every single nation on the planet.

 Constantly being confronted with it and stewing in that anger and hurt is unhealthy.

 Step back. Do something else for a while. Take a look at this post I made last week. You might find some of the advice on dealing with these feelings helpful.

 You can not make people care. Hopefully most of the people you’re talking to will grow and learn and become more compassionate people. But you can’t force that process.

 And you don’t have to deal with their bullshit while they’re still growing.

 Shouting at other people isn’t always helpful and it isn’t activism. If you want to do something constructive there are a lot of organisations that would gladly accept your money and your time.

 Here’s a couple that seem relevant:

Just Detention

Solitary Watch

The World Food Programme

Amnesty International

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*I asked a friend to explain what Dream Smp is and I’ll be honest I still don’t understand it. But hey I got an idea of the target audience which helps. Please don’t explain Minecraft to me any more let me rest.

[hakisinz]

Broken Bonds Trio

Next

Prologue part 1

Flowerfell : Fallen Petals

side note : FF! mean flowerfell

At the old ruin of the underground there's one grave stone placing among the golden flower field. Although this place was abandon after the barrier broken, there's a certain skeleton who’s always approach the deepest part of the ruin to visit a certain place. The skeleton walk to grave stone among the flower field which he can see the carving name on the grave stone as “Frisk”.

Sans: Hello sweetheart, How are you today?

The skeleton start talking to the grave stone as he expect the voice to return to him yet There’s no voice return to him.

Sans stay silence for a few then he pull the coat from the grave to lay it on his lap just so that he can feel a bit of her warm from what's left of her.

Sans: I’m sorry I didn’t visit you lately. Papyrus training did take a lot of my time but it feel great! Maybe moving a body is not as bad as I thought.

The skeleton chuckle still there’s no voice.

Instead of the voice he want to hear, the silent cold wind blow causing the flower petal to scatter in the air and Sans feel a coldness from wind that remind him of his coldness when he’s losing his love one. He's feeling the similar pain in his chest that he feel everyday as he know the fact that she won't answer him.

???: You know that words can't revive the dead right? Especially the one that was dead years ago.

A voice break the silence. Sans look back as he know whose voice owner is.

FF!Sans: Shut up... Don't remind me of the pain Flowey! Also why are you here?

FF! Flowey: Papyrus is getting mad that you are late so I’m checking on you and as I expect, you’re doing that routine from 3 years ago, thanks god that time Papyrus giving you a reason not to stay here and doing nothing but depressed.

An awkward silence goes for a few seconds until Flowey’s trying to say something.

FF! Flowey: I know-

Sans put his left hand up as a sign that “I talk first”.

FF! Sans: I've already move on, otherwise I wouldn't start training with Papyrus in order to protect those who wish for kindness.

FF! Flowey: Yet, a part of your reason is HER isn't it ?

Sans look away from Flowey. He knows the flower is right.

FF! Flowey: You still can't move on isn't it ? ... I don't understand your feeling but I understand why you feel like that... sometime we always make a mistake and we must forgiving ourselves and learn from it.

Flowey word remind Sans that when Frisk was kill by the underground monsters, she would come back with more flower on her body and Sans? He was once a part of the monsters that kill her.

FF! Flowey: "Always be kind". she’s always say that. That's also apply to yourself too. Stop blaming yourself. She won't-

Sans use his hand to close Flowey mouth because he knew that he wouldn’t want to hear it.

Sans : Shush flower. I just need a bit of time to coup up with this... please.

Sans lay on the ground and unconsciously closing his eye with a little of tear flown out and he’s slowly fallen into slumber inadvertently.

Flowey : HEY YOU WILL BE LATE FOR THAT TRAINING FROM THAT MAD BROTHER OF YOURS !!!!!

Flowey let out a little sign.

Flowey: Fine… Just rest you’re tiring out anyway. I think I’m tiring too anyway.

Flowey is fallen asleep soon after.

hello people of tumblr undertale fandom this is one of the three part of BBT prologue. The art make by me... it took quite sometime to draw but it was fun to do it. I've already done the three part of prologue but it need polishing and I didn't draw an art yet. The second part should be post in two days maximum so stay tune my guy.

[deus-and-the-machina]

My thoughts on each Dream SMP character (sometimes thoughts on the cc leak in) in a few sentences. Like 5 people who follow me will be interested in this. I might update as my thoughts on the characters change.

Tommy: Like he says, I was indeed annoyed by him at first (mostly because he was loud) but his sense of humor has grown on me greatly. Needs a break. Overly demonized by the fandom

Techno: One half of my brain wants to argue critically about Techno and his methods, the other half just goes “haha funny pig man”. He always gets some of the coolest and most unique designs.

Tubbo: A chaos child hiding underneath the veil of a sweet innocent that he’s not even trying to keep up anymore. I support all of his actions at this point. He built some nukes? Nice. Built a hotel? You do you.

Wilbur: I started watching the SMP through Wilbur’s edited videos so it’s no surprise he was my favorite for season 1. I mostly just feel bad for him, but he’s still kind of a shit. He dug his own grave ever since the election. 

Dream: Piece of shit abusive asshole. The only character the evokes anger from me. cc!Dream is a cool guy though and scarily good at acting this out.

Philza: I’m so sick of the discourse around who’s dad he is. I don’t care, he’s an asshole either way. I would die for cc!Phil though so write that down.

Schlatt: Struck a good balance between funny and genuinely threatening. Sick of people trying to pretend he was a good guy actually just because he did one or two good things for L’manburg’s economy and because Wilbur was also pretty shit.

Unpopular opinion I guess but I don’t really want him to come back. He had a good run and reviving both dead characters would just make death feel meaningless.

Quackity: Very excited for his lore. One of the smartest characters imo and we were robbed of a Quackity + Techno confrontation at Doomsday.

Eret: Fairly neutral. I feel like he’s been stuck on “I want to make it up to the people I betrayed” and “I feel like I can’t do anything as king” ever since season 1, and his plot with Fundy never went anywhere. I can only hope he’ll be involved with Wilbur’s resurrection. I think it’s hilarious he’s taxing the entire server now. 

Fundy: Extremely neutral. For someone who wants to step out of his father’s shadow his character sure does revolve around his daddy issues, huh? He’s a good actor but his lore was fucked from the start for me. I will never sympathize with having daddy issues over a British e-boy and that’s that.

(I say this then proceed to feature him in all my fics so far)

Niki: Please get some therapy. Please. Cool motive, still murder. If she doesn’t cuss someone out in German during her villain arc than what’s the point?

Jack Manifold. His arc is fun, but so painful in conjunction with Tommy’s. I love that he uses Professor Layton music. Also cool motive, still murder. Currently at the Megamind phase of his arc.

Ranboo: my beloved. He’s grown on me a lot ever since the Tubbo shenanigans started and his reaction to Tommy’s death. I really appreciate characters who are introspective even if they don’t get everything right, and I really like that he’s very upfront about what he thinks. 

Awesamdude: Has a lot going for him lore wise. I don’t think I latched onto him as a father figure for Tommy as much as the rest of the fandom did (double this as of recent events). It’s funny that our standards have dropped so low that someone just has to be a decent person to Tommy though.

Ghostbur: Deserved better. While he’s a different entity from Wilbur, I still consider them the same person fundamentally. Ghostbur couldn’t have come from nowhere after all. Everyone ignores how fucked Doomsday was for him.

Karl Jacobs: Tales From The SMP is really cool and I love how he takes feedback and makes each one better than the next. His time traveler lore has mostly been shown to us through book entries so I’m gonna have to see him act it out to be more invested though.

Sapnap: Arson pog. I love how he’s really stepped up to roleplay recently. That scene with Dream in the prison? Great.

Ponk: Has some neat underrated lore with the village from the first Tales episode. The OG capitalist on the server before everyone having all these capitalist arcs.

Captain Puffy: I love that she’s just trying to be a decent person. Like not even as a mother figure or anything, she’s just looking out for people. I love her involvement in the egg plot and I really want a reunion between her and Niki soon.

Badboyhalo: Go OFF you funky egg man! I never thought such a wholesome person would make such a good villain. He’s also just a really supportive person in the community as well.

Foolish: Local cryptid. Hasn’t really done anything lore wise but I get the strong sense he will eventually. 

George: Is he even a character? I heard he doesn’t want to be involved with the lore. Eh, sleep jokes funny.

Skeppy: Not even really in the lore but simultaneously really important. That’s the kind of power he wields.

Purpled: The four minors on this server are diagnosed with trauma, trauma, trauma, and capitalist. Get that coin, Purpled Bedwars.

Punz: Had a banger of a line in the finale. Nice that we have more people in the Eggpire, and I really like the headcanon that he and Purpled are mercenary brothers. 

Antfrost: Seems chill, but he’s kind of just Bad’s sidekick at this point lore wise. I have a strong suspicious he’s read warrior cats.

Connoreatspants: Was lazy once and now we all think he’s immortal. Just out here trying to play Minecraft as everyone reenacts musicals and the Cold War around him.

[frosteee]

R!Ciel Murderer Theory & Undertaker

Just some mid-afternoon thoughts. Please feel free to correct some of the information I’m using, I’ve only recently rejoined the fandom in earnest - enough to post theories on tumblr anyway lol.

The Background

So, Sebastian took R!Ciel's soul as payment for his summons. That means by the time Undertaker arrived to save R!Ciel's body from the flames, R!Ciel was an empty husk. So, like with Derrick Arden and the others in the Weston Arc, UT must have used R!Ciel’s residual ‘dreams of the future’, which linger long enough within a deceased body for him to use.

But what about the past? R!Ciel is UT’s finest work because not only can he function with a goal in mind like a person, but he remembers his past. UT would no longer have access to the records containing his past memories, as Sebastian had stolen that away when he took the boy’s soul.

So how did UT splice Ciel’s past with his future desires? We know from UT’s history with the Phantomhives and flashbacks where O!Ciel and R!Ciel meet him in their father’s manor, that UT was present or at least knowledgeable about much of the twins’ lives, and thus could be able to somehow use that to create memories of the past.

But of course, UT wasn’t watching over the twins all the time, and he wasn’t there to witness many key, intimate moments, and, perhaps darker moments that may have changed his attitude/treatment of them.

R!Ciel Murderer Theory

If R!Ciel did at least have a hand in his own parents' murder, if not outright killed them himself, I think UT’s knowledge, or lack of knowledge, of this would be significant.

At least twice now we have see UT lament bitterly on how he could not revive Vincent the way he has R!Ciel because his body was destroyed. He cared enough about Vincent to openly cry in front of Diedrich, an acquaintance at best, and express his regret.

It has been theorised by others in the fandom that R!Ciel, if he is complicit, had help from an outside source - on the Queen’s orders - that UT may have been aware of beforehand as one of the enemies of the Phantomhive house. So while UT knew about the other source, their motives and actions regarding the Phantomhive’s demise, he was not aware that R!Ciel had an involvement in it, and believed him just as much an innocent victim as O!Ciel in the whole thing.

Like O!Ciel and those who knew R!Ciel, UT also probably could not fathom the idea that a child could have possibly done such a thing. And if he did not have access to anything except the ‘yearning for the future’ records and his own memories of R!Ciel, Undertaker could be entirely ignorant of this episode of R!Ciel’s life. 

Tanaka, in this theory, is aware that R!Ciel is his parents’ killer, or accomplice to their deaths, but is intent on taking the secret to the grave due to his feelings of guilt and shame. It makes sense for him to have kept the secret from Undertaker as well, and is only going along with R!Ciel out of a sense of duty and because of his personal regret.

I find it difficult to believe, considering UT’s towards Vincent’s death, that he would just brush aside R!Ciel killing Vincent. Even if he considered R!Ciel’s age and surrounding circumstances he was made privy to, UT strikes me as far too emotionally invested in the lives/deaths of those he cared for to disregard their murder at the hands of another family member.

UT does not appear to care about the twins as individuals, but rather their statuses as members of the Phantomhive house, with which he has long been connected. He has no preference for one twin over the other, and even now he is not willing to do more for R!Ciel than keep him alive, declining to fill the butler role while they recruit more servants. 

Therefore, if UT discovered prior to the Phantomhive massacre that one twin had a hand in Vincent’s death, I doubt he would feel much compulsion to save that twin regardless, when he could easily support the other.

The way UT phrases it, at least to me, it sounds as if he intended to save both twins that night, but due to the yet-unnamed ‘obstacles’, that UT has mentioned a few times now, getting in his way, he was too late to do so. The fact that one twin was dead and could be used for his bizarre dolls experiments, which UT admits has been going on for much, much longer than we realised, was an unfortunate, but fixable, consequence as far as UT was concerned. 

Therefore, he poured the majority of his time/effort with reviving R!Ciel rather than the living O!Ciel. It wasn’t planned, but it fit nicely into UT’s already existing goals. Had it not been for that, UT would have probably shifted his focus to O!Ciel.

Of course, this isn’t to rule out the possibility that UT is now so utterly obsessed with preserving the Phantomhive house members that even the reality that one of them killed a dear friend/possible relative (Granddaddy UT Theory) could not deter him from that mission.

Still, I believe this very attachment would definitely put a hamper on UT’s willingness to help R!Ciel if he found out the boy killed his father, especially after going through all that trouble of bringing him to his current state.

If UT’s ultimate goal is to eliminate those who tried to destroy the Phantomhives, and to save both siblings from their fates (death), the revelation that R!Ciel had involvement in causing all this would definitely make UT flip his lid.

Conclusion

It’s pretty clear at this point that UT revived R!Ciel and did all his experiments for the sake of breaking the ‘status quo’, the inevitability of death in regards to the Phantomhives. He is very concerned about fate (making a separate post on that shortly), breaking away from one’s fate, and appears to hold some resentment towards O!Ciel for doggedly walking the path to his own doom, and like Tanaka did not appear at all pleased at R!Ciel’s decision to take on his birthright duties as Watchdog for the same reason.

All in all, UT has gone through the trouble of both reviving R!Ciel and assisting O!Ciel as he is able on the premise that he is helping break the ‘chain of fate’ that, as far as he is concerned, binds the boys to tragedy, despair and death. 

If he were to discover that one of the treasured Phantomhives, particularly the one whom he poured so much time, effort and misdeeds into reviving, had actually had a hand in creating that terrible, twisted fate he’s trying to save them from, killing a person he held dear in the process...

Somehow I don’t think he’d take it very well. What he would do in that scenario I can only guess at, because he has set so much in motion already and he is gunning for somebody other than Sebastian. Would he throw it all away now, when his goal is so close? Would he switch to a backup plan, or was he putting all his eggs in one basket (R!Ciel)? Would he lose it completely and do something rash?

Thoughts? (Because this has gone on long enough lol)

Also do these theories have their own tags?

[ckret2]

Liberty Island’s Decisive Battle: Godzilla vs. Trypticon!

Fandom: Transformers Prime, Godzilla, Rescue Bots Characters: Godzilla, Trypticon; also featuring, in order of descending importance, Ratchet, Starscream, Fowler, Miko, Blades, Dani, Heatwave, Soundwave, Knock Out, Raf, and Jack. Words: 5400 Summary: The Nemesis has been revived by dark energon, and reactivates its cloaking field just before Ratchet can send human infiltrators on board to retrieve the Iacon database and see where it’s headed. After a scouting mission, they discover that the Nemesis has transformed itself back into Trypticon, and is heading toward New York City. Fortunately, Agent Fowler’s got an asset in Japan that might just be able to take it on... Notes: What’s up I’ve seen 3.1 Godzilla movies and read way too many wiki pages today. This is unproofed because I wanted to 1) post this immediately, and 2) surprise my usual beta with it. Enjoy the typos.

UPDATE AUGUST 17 2019: We are now proofread. Huzzah.

###

The good news was the Nemesis's cloaking field was down.

The bad news was the Nemesis was alive, speaking, decoding the Iacon database at a ludicrous pace, stasis locking any Cybertronian that came in range of it, and blazing across the Atlantic toward what seemed to be the northeast coast of the United States.

So, basically everything else was bad news.

Fowler said, "But it status locked—"

"Stasis locked," Ratchet snapped.

"—Stasis locked the Decepticons too, right? I think that's another bit of good news."

"Hardly," Ratchet grumbled, not looking down as he locked onto the Decepticon ship's ground bridge coordinates. "As it is right now, the Nemesis is more dangerous than the Decepticons are. I'd rather have them."

"Sure, but, less dangerous than the Nemesis and the Decepticons working together would be, right?"

Ratchet gave Fowler an exasperated look. He shrugged. "I'm just saying. It could be worse."

Ratchet shook his head and turned back to his console. Then swore under his breath. "It just got worse."

The kids, waiting for the bridge to open for them, looked up at Ratchet. "Why, what happened?" Jack asked.

Ratchet gestured angrily at the screen. "The Nemesis figured out how to reactivate its cloaking," he said. "As if we needed more bad news."

Miko groaned, throwing her hands up. "Great!"

"Can you calculate where it's going to be based on its path?" Raf asked, walking closer to Ratchet. "We know where it was a moment ago. We could figure out its speed and direction based on those records and open a bridge—"

"If the ship figured out it needed to start cloaking, it probably also figured out we might have been tracking it and altered its trajectory. If I tried to ground bridge you now, you would plummet from mid-air into the ocean."

The solemn declaration was met with silence.

Miko asked, "What if you bridged us through with like, jetpacks or something?"

Ratchet scoffed. "Absurd. We don't have..." And then he fell silent, thoughtful. He moved to the comm console and started typing.

"Are we getting jetpacks?!" Miko asked.

"No. Hush."

Raf climbed the mezzanine stairs so he wouldn't have to keep looking up at Ratchet. "Who are you calling?"

"The only flying Cybertronian left on Earth."

Jack grimaced. "Starscream?"

"Of course not Starscream. Anyway, he doesn't have his t-cog, he's not—" The line connected, and Ratchet focused on the comm. "Heatwave. We have an emergency. Can you put Blades on?"

###

"I really, really, really don't like this," Blades squeaked. "There is so. Much. Water."

"Relax," Dani said. "We've done flights over the ocean hundreds of times."

"But not like this! Over the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, hundreds of miles from shore in every direction..."

Half standing with her forehead pressed to Blades's window so she could see the ocean below, Miko continued for him, "One seagull stuck in your rotor away from a watery grave."

Blades whined. Dani shot Miko an exasperated look. "I'm beginning to understand why Ratchet warned me not to let you come along." Miko turned to give her a mischievous grin. "Try not to make my partner faint, okay? Then we're all in trouble."

"Focus," Heatwave said over the comm. "You're scouting for a rogue Decepticon warship, remember."

Somehow managing to sound even more terrified, Blades said, "Oh. Right."

"Nothing visible so far," Dani said. "We're following along the Nemesis's last known flight path. We'll let you know if we spot anything."

"Miko, could you stop drumming your fingers on me?" Blades asked. "It's making me more nervous."

She sighed, flopped back in her seat, and crossed her arms and legs. "There's nothing out there," she grumbled. "I thought we'd have found it by now."

"We've only been at this a few minutes," Dani assured here. "And this thing is huge, right? As long as we keep headed along its last known trajectory, we're bound to find—" She fell silent, leaning forward and squinting. "Blades, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"I think I am. I wish I wasn't."

"What?" Miko leaped back to her feet, leaning forward again.

On the horizon, a black speck appeared, as if rising out of the water. "That can't be it," Dani muttered. "The Nemesis is a ship—like, a space ship, right? Shouldn't it be flying?"

"Maybe it crashed again?" Miko suggested. "It was grounded earlier today. Before it started paralyzing 'bots and talking to us."

"It doesn't look like a ship, though," Blades said.

They fell silent as they slowly drew up on the black form protruding from the water. Quietly, as though afraid it might hear, Dani said, "We're seeing something, Heatwave. But I don't think it's the Nemesis."

"What is it?" Heatwave asked.

"Well, it's— it looks like..."

Blades cut in, "It looks like Trex, but way bigger and eviler."

"Well—yeah. That."

Heatwave was silent for a moment. "... Blades, have you ever heard of Trypticon?"

Blades squeaked.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"What's Trypticon?" Miko whispered. Dani shrugged.

"But I thought Trypticon died, like, a zillion years ago!" Blades said.

"It did," Heatwave said.

"Then how..."

"I don't know."

Miko sucked in a breath. "Hold on. If this Trypticon dude is from your planet, then it can turn into something else, right? Like... a ship? A Decepticon ship?"

"Yep," Heatwave said. "Just like a ship. But it's been dead. It shouldn't be able to transform."

Miko said quickly, "The Decepticons have been throwing around dark energon like cheap rock candy."

"'Dark energon'?" Dani echoed.

"It raises the dead. If they used it to try to fix their ship when it crashed—"

"Hold on," Heatwave said, "exactly how much dark energon do the Decepticons have?"

Blades shouted, "You mean that Trypticon is a zombie?!"

"So, hold on, back up," Dani said, eyes fixed on the machine growing ever larger before them. "You're telling me that the Decepticon warship we've been looking for is also a giant zombie dinosaur?"

Unable to contain her mounting excitement, Miko pumped her fists in the air with a shrill cheer. "This is awesome! This is the coolest thing ever!"

"I think it sees us!" Blades shouted. Slowly, laboriously, the monster was turning its head, glancing back over its shoulder. Blades stopped in mid-air so quickly that Miko stumbled and landed on the floor, and then he started flying backwards. "Bridge us back, bridge us back, bridge us back—"

Two pulsing purple plasma beams shot out of its optics toward Blades. They only barely backed through a ground bridge in time to avoid them, and crashed, rotors still spinning, in the Autobot base.

###

Ratchet paced, mouth set in a grim line. "At the height of his strength, Trypticon was almost two miles high. We don't have anything that could compare to..."

"I can't say whether or not he's really this Trypticon, but, rough estimate? I would put the guy we saw at only five hundred feet or so," Dani said.

Huddled up under a massive blue tarp, staring into the distance, Blades mumbled, "Five hundred scary, scary feet."

"The Decepticons probably hollowed out most of his internals back when they reformatted his corpse into their flagship," Heatwave said. "If he transformed back to his original height, his armor would be paper thin and he'd be mostly hollow. Maybe he had to reformat his robot mode to compact himself."

"What if it's heading toward Griffin Rock," Blades mumbled, mostly to himself. "It's gonna squash the island."

"It's not going to squash the island," Heatwave said firmly, although it wasn't clear whether Blades heard him through his terror. "We'll just—figure something out."

"Will we really?" Ratchet snapped. "Something that can stop a threat that big? Without Optimus?"

"Without Optimus. My team's been managing for years with only occasional contact with Optimus and the rest of your team—"

"Managing to rescue cats from trees, Heatwave. Handling even the average Decepticon threat, much less this, is far outside your—"

"Everyone be quiet a moment!" Fowler shouted. Ratchet and Heatwave turned to look at him. He waved his phone, "I've gotta make a call. I might just have something that can take on this thing."

The room stared at him. "You've got to be joking," Ratchet said. "The United States government has something that can take on a five-hundred-foot monster?"

"First, technically, the Japanese government's got it," Fowler said, "and second, it's more like three hundred something, but it's very good at punching above its weight class. Now pipe down, I've gotta be able to hear." He punched in a number, held his phone up, put a finger over his over ear, and turned around. There were a few seconds of silence; and then he said, "Hey, Pete! It's Bill. Listen, I— Hold on, I'd love to catch up, but we've got a developing situation in the Atlantic, and we need a heavy hitter. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. The heaviest. Listen, do you or your aunt still have that little box, or—? ... Ah." He sounded disappointed. "Do you think she might know—? Okay, give me her number, I'll see what she knows. Thanks. Hey, call me in a few days, we should get caught up."

He hung up, punched in another number, and held the phone back up to his head. Turning back to the Autobots, who were looking at him quizzically, he explained, "Me and Pete were Rangers together. His aunt got my foot in the door with Unit: E, she was working with them because of— Oh, hi, Dr. Darian. Bill Fowler. Yeah, years, I know. Listen—I've got a budding national emergency out in the Atlantic, I was wo— oh, I wish I could tell you more, but it's five hundred feet of classified information. Do you still have that little box you—? Yeah, it's going on right now. Thing could make landfall on the east coast in under five hours. ... Ah. Do you know who does? ... Sure, call him. Just put me on hold, I'll wait." Fowler covered the mouthpiece. "This box could take a while to get—if we can get it. Do we have anything that can slow Trypticon down? I'm not talking about fighting it—just distracting it. Something that can annoy it for a while."

"This is ridiculous," Ratchet said. "What can any humans come up with that can take on Trypticon? What's this 'box'? What's it for?"

Fowler opened his mouth, froze, and stared at Ratchet a moment. Then he said, "That's classified."

Ratchet threw up his hands with a disgusted noise.

"Look," Heatwave said. "In my experience, even if humans can't match us with the sheer strength of their firepower, they're more than our equal in inventiveness and ingenuity. I trust Agent Fowler if he says he's got something that can take on a five hundred foot walking warship. So if there's any way we can buy him some time, I'm all for it. What've we got?"

Ratchet glanced between Heatwave and Fowler; and then grimaced. "Unfortunately, I've got just the thing." He headed over to the comm station. "This is Ratchet to... Starscream. I wanna make a bargain. I can get you a t-cog—if you can show off your aerial acrobatics to a runaway warship."

###

"Primus below, look at him," Starscream said, circling in the sky above Trypticon. "He's mangled himself in order to transform. You can see several shattered decks sticking out of his back."

Over the comm, Dani said, "When we saw them, I sort of thought those were—you know—spines."

Haughtily, Starscream said, "Well, you would think that, you're only human. But no. They're clearly broken. If he transforms back—and I don't know if he can, at this point—he'll have a gut full of splintered structures."

"That's good news, right?" Raf asked. "It means he's stuck in one mode. He can't just fly off."

"I can certainly confirm that being confined to bipedal mode greatly restricts one's mobility." Starscream did an aileron roll, just for the sheer relief that he could, and dove down. "All right. I'm going in—to heroically risk my life for the sake of the people of your miserable little planet. And as we agreed, doctor—"

"Yes, yes," Ratchet snapped. "The Autobots will owe you a favor for this."

"Although we shouldn't have to," Heatwave grumbled. "As long as this thing is rampaging, your entire army is in stasis lock. You're helping yourself as much as you are us—that should be favor enough."

"Perhaps," Starscream said lightly. "But the Decepticons and I aren't exactly on speaking terms lately. So I do appreciate the extra incentive to do this."

"Oh, I'm sure that you do."

Faintly in the background of the comm, Starscream could hear Miko ask, "Hey Heatwave, did you know that when you get sarcastic, you and Starscream sound exactly alike?"

"Excuse me—"

"All right!" Starscream shouted venomously, and Trypticon laboriously lifted his head to look at him. "Listen up, you overgrown undead Dinobot. I don't care what you, Megatron, or anyone else thinks—you were my ship to command and you remain my ship still. And as your commander, I demand that you halt at once! If you want to go another step forward, you'll have to get through me."

Watching Starscream, Trypticon actually slowed to a stop.

"Huh. I didn't think that would actually—"

And Trypticon's optics started glowing brighter.

"Ah. Well. It was a long shot. Consider Trypticon sufficiently distracted, Autobots. I'll do what I can to slow him down." And with that grim but heroic declaration, Starscream closed the comm line.

Thirty seconds later, he was shrieking in terror and babbling apologies as he barrel rolled and looped to dodge Trypticon's stasis locking laser optics.

###

Miko and Fowler huddled cheek-to-cheek with Fowler's phone between their ears. They perked up when the phone was answered. Fowler hissed to Miko, "Tell her hi—"

Miko waved him off, and brightly said, "Moshi moshi! Gojo-sensei desu ka? Hai. Mi—"

"Is it her?" Fowler hissed.

Miko hissed back, "Yeah, it's her. Sumimasen. Miko da, hajimemashite. Agent Fowler no yakusha da. Watashi-tachi ga Gojira no—"

"Ask her about the box," Fowler hissed.

"I'm trying!" Miko shoved his shoulder. "Back off, I don't have room to talk."

"I can't hear if I back off."

"I can't believe you don't have speaker phone. Why do you need to hear, you don't speak Japanese. Aa—sumimasen, Gojo-sensei. Gojira no bokkusu—"

"Is that 'box'?"

"Shhh!"

"What's taking so long?" Ratchet asked. "Does she have what you need, or—"

"Damare!" Miko snapped at them, so loud they involuntarily leaned back. Miko took the opportunity to snatch the phone from Fowler and continue her conversation sweetly, "Sumimasen, Fowler-san wa chotto urusai. Gojira no bokkusu wa—"

Fowler sighed, backed off, and crossed his arms.

A couple minutes later, Miko gave him a wink and a thumbs up. Fowler rushed up to her again. "Ask for the coordinates," he hissed. "We can ground bridge it where it's needed in seconds."

"Okay, but when we pick it up, I'm doing the talking," Miko whispered, before returning to her conversation.

Fowler trudged away and groaned. "I hope she's not giving away any classified information."

"She's just given Dr. Gojo a thirty second summary of our entire conflict on Earth," Ratchet said.

"You understood Japanese this whole time?!" Fowler demanded, followed shortly by, "You let her give out a summary?!"

Ratchet shrugged. "I thought she was talking to an ally."

Fowler groaned again.

###

"I think it's headed toward New York," Raf said into Jack's phone, looking at the map on his laptop. "It's slowed down a lot, but that's still where its trajectory is pointing."

Blades, still huddled under his tarp blanket but leaning over Raf's shoulder, said, "Everything always goes for New York."

"Then that's where we'll take the box," Fowler said. They were, at the moment, in Japan, picking up "the box" from Dr. Gojo. In the background, Raf could hear Miko saying, "I can't believe I'm going to get to see Gojira, he hasn't made landfall in, like, forever—"

"What's Gojira?" Raf asked.

Fowler snapped, "Classified! Miko, stop talking about the classified asset."

"Come on! It's not like everyone in New York won't be taking a billion pictures when he gets there—"

"Good point, we might have to arrange a media blackout. Thanks for the info, Raf."

"Hold on," Raf said. "Where is this 'asset' coming from?"

"That's classif—"

"I know but—it's important. I'm worried about whether it will get to New York before Trypticon."

Fowler hesitated. "We don't know where it is right now. But, it lives a few hundred miles south of Japan."

Raf zoomed out his map. "Can it fly?"

"Nnno."

In the back of the call, Miko piped up, "But I hear he can swim super fast!"

Raf looked at the map scale and mentally measured the distance from Japan to New York. "I sure hope so."

###

Miko and Fowler bridged to New York City. The box—a small metal cube with a single button—was turned on; and an undetectable signal began playing.

Undetectable to humans, at least.

Thousands of miles away, the beast it was designed to summon stirred.

###

Night was falling on Panama.

Slowly, from the Pacific Ocean, just south of Panama City, something monstrous rose from the sea. Water ran off of its head around scales the size of cars.

It waded into the entrance of the Panama Canal and narrowly passed beneath the Bridge of Americas, ducking low to avoid hitting the bridge two hundred feet above water.

With little difficulty, it simply stepped over the Miraflores locks, at one time climbing up onto the bank beside the canal to get around a cargo ship. It was heedless of the ever increasing number of helicopters drawn to its location, shining spotlights down on it, as though it were used to drawing the attention of such illuminated gnats and considered them no more important than a human would consider a field full of fireflies.

On it went, navigating the rest of the canal the same way—over more locks, through artificial lakes, under more bridges—with the eyes of Panama trained breathlessly upon it, terrified of what it might decide to do but even more terrified at the thought of aggravating it—until it made it to the Atlantic Ocean.

It sank peacefully beneath the waves, and was gone.

###

"Don't lean so far outside the windows," Fowler said. "Lady Liberty's going to see enough tonight without having to add a kid falling to death from her crown."

"But I don't want to miss a thing!" Miko said, borrowed binoculars trained on the horizon. "This battle is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime show and I am going to see every single detail!"

"A show," Fowler said indignantly. "That thing out there could completely destroy New York City!"

"Which would totally blow," Miko said, "but, if it does happen, I'm not going to not watch it." She leaned a bit further out the window—then started. "Hey! I think I see him on the horizon!"

"Which one?" Fowler leaned out the window next to Miko. "Trypticon or Godzilla?" He pulled the box out of his pocket for the dozenth time, checking again to make sure the button was still glowing.

"Dude. It's pronounced 'Gojira.'"

"It's Godzilla when he's in the Atlantic Ocean. It's like typhoons versus hurricanes."

"Whatever. Anyway, unless Gojira grew a bunch of glowing purple lights since the last time anyone saw him, I'm pretty sure it's Trypticon."

"Let me see." Fowler held out a hand, and Miko passed over the binoculars. He focused them on the shape on the horizon. Every once in a while, beams of light crackled from its eyes like distant lightning. "He's—he's huge."

"Five hundred feet, dude."

"Yeah, but, seeing it... Sweet mother of..."

From the sea in front of Trypticon, a second form rose up, a black silhouette in the bottom half of the binocular's view. Fowler lowered them to watch Godzilla rising from the ocean. Water surged away from him in a wave as he stood. Lights from the city dully illuminated his scales. He reared his head, roared, and turned toward the monster on the horizon.

Trypticon's jaw dropped, and a horrible metal screech answered Godzilla.

Slowly, relentlessly, legs churning the water, Godzilla waded out into New York Bay, charging toward Trypticon. Godzilla's dorsal fins lit up an icy blue, and he blasted a bright, cold light toward Trypticon.

Fowler's jaw dropped. Miko simply whispered, "Whoa."

For a moment, they watched in silence, as the two massive monsters collided.

Finally, Miko said, "Isn't Gojira's breath laser, like, radioactive?"

"Oh, yeah. We're both gonna get cancer."

###

Starscream sighed in relief as Trypticon switched his attention to... whatever in the world this undersized organic Trypticon was.

He had narrowly dodged hundreds of stasis beams from Trypticon's optics. As well as far too many bellowed taunts at him about how he was a pest, a nuisance, unworthy of Unicron's power and thus rejected for his weakness. Which sounded like a whole bunch of nonsense to Starscream (who, it should be noted, had been AWOL during the Decepticons' entire encounter with Unicron and hadn't had an opportunity to catch up on the news while he was on the run). But if Ratchet's report that Trypticon was hopped up on dark energon was anything to go by, the taunts said a lot about why the dark energon crystal hadn't taken in Starscream's spark as it had in Megatron's, and about whether or not "blood of Unicron" was just a fancy metaphorical name for dark energon. Apparently it wasn't as metaphorical as Starscream had assumed. Good thing it hadn't taken, then.

Now. What was he to do while Trypticon was fighting its new target and Starscream no longer had to serve as a distraction?

He circled above a couple of times, watching the battle, deciding what to do; and then dove down to Trypticon's back. He waited until Trypticon was grappling with the new monster and temporarily held in place; and then he transformed, dropped down onto the broken decks sticking out of its back, and slid down and inside.

###

Godzilla was three-fifths Trypticon's height.

That put him at the perfect height to blast his chest with a radioactive breath and dig his claws deep into his gut.

Trypticon slashed at Godzilla's face; his metal claws sank far deeper than any of the creatures Godzilla typically fought could reach. Godzilla seized the arm in his jaws before Trypticon could draw back, and cracked three teeth on the metal. That was fine. Godzilla's teeth would grow back. Based on Godzilla's experience, Trypticon's mangled right arm probably wouldn't.

This was far from the first metal doppelgänger Godzilla had fought. He hadn't lost to the others; he wasn't going to lose to this one, either. And this one had something that the others had lacked: a reactor core heart brimming with energy, much like Godzilla's own.

He planned to consume it or die trying.

###

"It's like a maze in here!" Starscream yelled. He was balanced precariously on one foot in a hallway that had turned into a nearly vertical incline, kicking at a damaged piece of wall. "This is ridiculous! I should have found the bridge ages ago!" Finally, the wall gave way, and Starscream climbed through it into a dark, cramped cavity. Trypticon had remained distracted enough by his new sparring partner that he hadn't reactivated his internal defenses; although Starscream had passed dozens of stasis locked or dead Vehicons, all in crumpled piles where they'd landed when Trypticon had transformed, no stasis beams had yet been aimed in Starscream's direction. All the same, he was glad to be out of a hallway and in the empty space between walls. It was less likely that there would be functional stasis beams in a gap like this. Right?

Eventually—after being unceremoniously slammed into a few hard surfaces as Trypticon rocked back and forth—Starscream managed to locate the bridge. None of the consoles responded to his inputs, curses, or heel kicks. Well, that was just fantastic, wasn't it? Perhaps he could try somewhere else. The engine room, maybe?

As he headed out of the bridge, he noticed Soundwave slumped on the floor, and paused. Hmm. Well, the Autobots were already in debt to Starscream. It wouldn't hurt to pick up a few Decepticon debts too, now would it? Besides, the Decepticons would fall apart within days without Soundwave—and then what army would Starscream have to lead?

He maneuvered one of Soundwave's arms over his shoulder, put his arm around Soundwave's waist, and dragged him out of the bridge toward the nearest escape to open air.

###

Over and over, Trypticon blasted Godzilla with his laser eyes. He didn't seem to notice that Godzilla was simply absorbing the power—like strange lightning, electrifying him. His whole body crackled with electric energy like he'd rarely had a chance to use before. It would be temporary, but it would be a huge advantage for this battle.

Godzilla had torn gashes in Trypticon's side and throat. Inside were little hallways and rooms, with square corners and lighting fixtures, just like the inside of a building. As it so happened, Godzilla was extremely proficient at destroying buildings.

Trypticon seemed to have figured out he was losing. He spun, his stubby tail slamming Godzilla and knocking him over into the water, and turned, trying to escape. Godzilla lurched back to his feet, eyes locked furiously on his prey. Reactor core heart thrumming, pulsing its energy through his blood—Godzilla's electrified body called to the metal in Trypticon. Behind him, ships in New York Harbor groaned and tilted in his direction. Trypticon's feet lost purchase on the bottom of the bay, as he was magnetically pulled backwards, into Godzilla's arms. Godzilla wrapped his arms around Trypticon, digging his claws into the neck and side wounds he'd already left, and released all the electricity his body had been holding as a single charged blast back into Trypticon. Trypticon seized, blue electricity arcing between his joints and across his open wounds, then sagged against Godzilla, stunned.

###

"Look," Fowler yelled down from the Statue of Liberty's crown at Starscream, "I don't care if you've gotta fly all the way to Canada, you are not dropping a shipload of Decepticon soldiers at Lady Liberty's feet!"

"And why not?!"

"This is—this is sovereign American land, not a Decepticon base! In fact, this island is probably the most American land you'll find!"

"Oh, oh is it now! Is it! What's so great about it that I can't drop a few unconscious soldiers here? All I see is a big green statue!"

"That 'big green statue' is Lady Liberty! She's, she's the symbol of everything good about America! You know— 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore'—"

Starscream gestured frantically at Soundwave, Knock Out, and the half dozen Vehicons he'd hauled back so far, and hysterically demanded, "Do we not look like wretched refuse to you?! They're not even conscious!"

Fowler considered that. "... Dang it." He pulled in the window, and shrugged at Miko. "He's right. There's no way I can kick him out."

Miko shook her head.

At the the sound of a thunder crack, Starscream turned toward the battling behemoths, just in time to see the Trypticon thrash with what looked like an electrical overload in the organic beast's arms. At the same time, the stasis locked Decepticons on the ground shuddered, groaned, and went slack. Soundwave sat up first, holding a hand to his head and shaking it.

"It broke the stasis?" Starscream looked between the soldiers, and then back at the monsters. "Trypticon must have been sending out a signal to maintain the stasis... Soundwave! Are you flightworthy?"

Soundwave looked up, a question mark flashing on his visor, and asked in two different voices, "'Starscream'—'what?'"

"Never mind what I'm doing here! Can you fly?" He pointed back toward the battle. "That thing is crushing soldiers with every swipe, and if we still want to have an army in the morning, we've got to evacuate as many as we can!"

Soundwave hesitated, nodded, and transformed.

Starscream transformed as well and turned, hovering. "Knock Out!"

"Whaaahah? What? Who?"

"You're in charge until we get back!"

"Of what?" But Starscream and Soundwave had already taken off, heading back toward Trypticon.

Knock Out stood, sat down, uncertainly stood again in an attempt to look in charge, and finally sat for good. "... What's going on?"

###

Little metal gnats flew around Trypticon, and more began pouring out of his back and wounds, dropping into the water. Godzilla ignored them; they weren't attacking him. In fact, they were using little lasers to punch even more holes in Trypticon's hide, holes that even more purple gnats to poured out of.

Trypticon was weak, tottering on his feet. Godzilla tore into his chest with claws and teeth, ripping through his thickest armor in search of his radioactive heart. Trypticon could only feebly fight back.

At last, with a triumphant roar, Godzilla tore out Trypticon's glowing mechanical heart and began to chew.

###

Several hundred bedraggled Vehicons were packed shoulder-to-shoulder on Liberty Island. More arrived by the minute, swimming and flying, obeying Starscream and Soundwave's commed orders to abandon ship by any means necessary and make way northwest to the small island with the giant green human. Knock Out, despite Fowler's protests, was now sitting on the Statue of Liberty's pedestal at Lady Liberty's feet, to keep himself above the crowd and therefore maintain the illusion that he had any sort of command over the stranded Vehicons.

Starscream and Soundwave landed at the base of the pedestal just in time to see the shorter monster use its teeth to rip Trypticon's power core—complete with a glowing, swirling purple mass that appeared to be an unnaturally resurrected spark—and, after a few seconds of chewing, swallow it near-whole. With another victorious bellow, it spewed a geyser of purple light from its mouth into the night sky.

"Ohhhh daaaang." Miko leaned out her window. "Hey, Doc Knock! Is dark energon radioactive?"

"Uhh, obviously?"

"Wow. No wonder Big G wanted Trypticon's spark so bad."

"What, does it..." Knock Out pointed shakily at the organic monster, "does it eat radioactive things?"

"Uh, obviously?"

Knock Out stared.

"This is so bad," Miko said giddily.

Starscream was pointing at the Vehicons in the crowd one by one, mouth moving as he tried to count them. "This is impos— Everybody, STOP MOVING!" A few Vehicons froze. Most kept fidgeting and jostling, trying to get into positions from which they could more comfortably obey the order. A small cluster knocked themselves over, which started a domino effect. Starscream threw up his hands with a noise of frustration. "Whatever. We'll count you later." He watched in disapproval as a third of the surviving army toppled over in slow motion.

Soundwave tapped Starscream's shoulder. "'Lord Megatron?'"

"I didn't see him," Starscream snapped. At Soundwave's stare, he said defensively, "I didn't! Anyway, if I had, what was I supposed to do? Carry him out myself?"

Soundwave gave Starscream a slow, patronizing nod.

Starscream flung out his spindly arms for Soundwave to observe. "With these?!"

Knock Out cut in, "The last I heard from Megatron, he was heading to the power core to extract the dark energon from the Nemesis."

Starscream said, "You mean the one that beast—"

"Its name is Big G," Knock Out said.

"The one Big G just swallowed?"

"Yeah, that one." Knock Out paused. "Oh."

The three officers looked forlornly at Trypticon, slumping slowly and ignobly into the water. Godzilla, meal finished, was trudging off into the ocean, slowly disappearing into deeper water.

Soundwave began playing "Taps."

"Oh, stuff it," Starscream muttered. Soundwave played "Taps" louder.

Raising his voice, Starscream said, "Of course, this does bring up the question of chain of command. With Megatron gone—and, obviously, with my own triumphant return to the Decepticons..."

"Taps" immediately cut off, and Soundwave played Starscream's voice: "'Decepticons, it is with deep sorrow that I note for the log, Megatron's spark has been extinguished. All. Hail.'—'Soundwave.'"

Starscream had begun smirking, but it immediately twisted into a scowl. "Excuse me?! After I single-handedly saved the army? And personally hauled you from the bowels of Trypticon, you ungrateful—"

Soundwave whipped out his feelers. Starscream skittered several steps back. "We can, of course, discuss chain of command later."

"Technically," Knock Out said, "Dreadwing is still the second in command. Has anyone seen him?"

Starscream and Soundwave looked at each other, and then out at the crowd. Soundwave lifted his feelers to look around like periscopes.

Knock Out shrugged. "Meh. I didn't like him much anyway."

Fowler yelled down, "Maybe you should worry less about who's in charge and more about what you're going to do now. Seeing as you're stranded on an island. Without a ship. And surrounded."

"Surrounded?!" Starscream demanded. "What do you mean, surro—" He looked around, and froze. Helicopters and ships were edging in on the island on three sides, and were quickly closing the gap to the southeast between Liberty Island and Trypticon. The shore of New York City behind them was lined with tanks wherever they fit. Starscream stared. Then looked up at Fowler. "Perhaps it's time to discuss a... meeting of minds with the Autobots, to productively combine our resources."

"Uh-huh," Fowler said, smirking.

Soundwave dropped into a battle stance, feelers reeling back like snakes about to strike Starscream. Starscream skittered farther away again. "Don't do that! I'm not talking about surrender! Just a—a—coming to an agreement! The Autobots owe me a favor for all this, after all!" Tone growing more indignant, he went on, "You owe me a favor, too! You all do! You owe it to me to do what I say! I basically single-handedly saved the Cybertronian population on Earth, so if I think it's time to make overtures of peace the least you can do is hear me out—"

In the distance, Godzilla's dorsal fins disappeared beneath the water. With a mere ripple in the ocean, he was gone.

###

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description!

[tlbodine]

A Decade of Horror Recommendations

With 2020 approaching, we’re reaching the end of a decade that has been uncommonly good to the horror genre, especially the last few years. Here’s an overview of some of the stand-out titles and my recommendations. Feel free to ask me about any of the titles on this list and I’ll happily share my more in-depth thoughts on them! 

Note that, of course, I have not seen every movie that’s come out in recent years, so I’ve probably missed some titles -- feel free to jump in with your own recommendations! 

Also this post is really long and has gifs, so I’m putting it under a cut. Sorry for the dash spam, mobile fam. Tell Tumblr to fix their shit. 

2010: Supernatural Horror Starts Making a Comeback 

Some stand-out films: 

Insidious: An important film for modern horror history, helping to usher in the new wave of paranormal/hauntings/demon films. It lays the tropes for a lot of the films that would get big in upcoming years. I thought it was pretty solidly decent. 

Devil: A clever script about being trapped on an elevator with the devil. It’s a bit too ambitious and doesn’t quite live up to those ambitions, but it’s solidly decent and refreshingly original. A hidden gem for the year. 

Black Swan: Maybe the height of Darren Aronofsky’s career as a household name. Not my favorite of his movies, but a pretty solid psychological suspense. 

Frozen: No, not that one. This is a clever movie that embraces a narrow scope: some teenagers get stuck on a ski lift and have to endure the elements and some hungry wolves below. Not a great movie, but worth watching as a study in what you can do with limited resources. 

Black Death: Quick shout-out for a dark and grisly historical horror involving witchcraft and torture. It’s not a fun movie to watch, but it’s got Sean Bean and Eddie Redmayne, and I feel like both original screenplays and historical horrors are rare enough to warrant support. 

2010 also had its share of predictable franchise tie-ins (a Saw movie, a Resident Evil movie, remakes like I Spit on Your Grave and The Crazies, etc.) The Horror Renaissance was a few years in coming. 

2011: The Year of the Predictable Remakes 

So many franchises getting flogged to death this year -- tripe like SCRE4M, Final Destination 5, Human Centipede 2, a Hellraiser reboot literally no one watched, and Paranormal Activity 3. Blech. BUT. 2011 also brought us a couple of my favorite movies ever: 

You’re Next: I would credit You’re Next with re-defining the “final girl” in horror. Also it’s a damn good home invasion movie with buckets of gore and a smart script. 

Cabin in the Woods: This one’s a bit divisive -- some folks really hated it I guess -- but it’s such a loving deconstruction of horror, and it’s wholly original even while being comfortingly familiar. Also it’s hilarious. 

2012: A Few Important Titles

I feel like 2012 was full of movies nobody has actually ever seen or talked about. But some of the good ones that I’d recommend: 

Sinister: Like Insidious in some ways, but maybe better.  Also, “Snakes don’t have feet.” Honestly just a very good, solid demon/haunted kid movie. 

V/H/S: A must-watch for horror buffs. It didn’t invent the found footage genre, but it did refine it and really show off what it could do best. 

Smiley: OK so like. This is not really a great film, but I think about it a lot and recommend it a lot. It’s stuck with me quite a bit somehow, and in some ways it feels very much ahead of its time as a creepy prediction of what internet culture would be like at the end of the decade. “We did it for the lulz.” Seriously, watch this movie today, and remember that it was made eight years ago, and see if it gives you chills too. 

I guess I should also mention Prometheus here, which lots of people liked. I was not one of them, but it was a heavily talked-about film I feel like and of course an Alien franchise tie-in. 

2013: The Year the World Remembered It Liked Horror 

This was a big turning point year, launching some new franchises instead of just re-treading old ones: 

The Conjuring: I personally hate all of these movies, but they are huge and you can’t swing a dead cat in the modern horror fandom without encountering one of them. The first Conjuring film was at least decent. For extra credit, watch it as a triple feature with Insidious and Sinister and do a compare/contrast. 

The Purge: Not only the start of a successful franchise but also a pop culture phenomenon and a damn good movie to boot. 

Mama: I love this movie. I have this movie on DVD. It’s kind of bittersweet and may not completely follow through on all of its promises, but it’s still quite good and has some lovely performances. 

Warm Bodies: Not really a horror -- kind of a romance -- but it warrants mention here because zombies were a hot item in 2013, and that’s a current special interest of mine on account of having a zombie book of my own coming out that is more than a little influenced by this story. (the film is a pretty good adaptation of the book, although honestly you could just skip the movie and read the book and get a better experience.)  

Willow Creek: I feel like I recommend this movie a lot, but that’s just because I think it’s very good and a very smart use of its own resources. A found footage mockumentary that actually manages to make Bigfoot frightening. Totally worth the watch. 

Mr. Jones: Here’s another hidden gem, also in found footage style (I feel like that was a prevailing theme in the years after V/H/S) but it’s surprisingly fresh. It’s a folk horror piece that doesn’t go at all where you might expect despite its thoroughly well-trodden ‘couple in secluded house’ setup. 

A bucketful of remakes and sequels this year too, including an Evil Dead reboot, V/H/S sequel, Insidious sequel, etc.  I should also probably mention World War Z, which was not actually very good and also had nothing in common with the book of the same name, but does mark an important moment in the mainstreaming of the zombie revival, especially considering it came out the same year as Warm Bodies. 

2014: Fuck Yeah People Actually Like This Shit Let’s Make More 

I feel like maybe our current horror renaissance started this year. Some recs: 

The Babadook: No surprises to anyone who follows my blog, but I love The Babadook and I will defend it to the bitter end against its detractors. It is one of my favorite horror films of all time and one of the best of the decade. 

It Follows: Ok confession, I actually did not like this movie at all. I thought it was ridiculous and over-hyped. But it makes the list because a lot of other people really, really loved it, and I accept that they saw something in it that I didn’t. Watch it and make up your own mind (and report back with your findings). 

As Above, So Below: This may be the most claustrophobic film ever made, and it deserves to be studied on that merit alone. It’s also pretty creepy and I suspect a lot creepier for folks who are unnerved by Christian horror/mythology (I am not, but I know lots of folks really are). 

Housebound: A hidden gem from New Zealand, this one is worth a watch because it takes a familiar haunted house premise and gives it a surprising and honestly delightful twist. 

Jessabelle: Not a great movie, but deserving of a spot here because it’s a Southern Gothic and features a main character in a wheelchair, which I think is neat. 

13 Sins: I feel like I’ve written about this movie for the blog before, and I recommend it a lot. But it’s clever and is a great early example of the “killing game” genre that has become increasingly prevalent (I mean, aside from the Battle Royale/Hunger Games version). 

It was neat to see so many original horror stories (as opposed to reboots/franchises) coming out, and that’s a trend that would continue (and is something that makes horror one of my preferred genres - there are more original stories in it than in many other types of film). 

2015: Hell Yeah Let’s Ride This Horror Train 

So many excellent movies this year! Ahh! 

Crimson Peak: Guillermo del Toro’s love letter to the Gothic. What I love about this movie (aside from Tom Hiddleston) is it plays all the tropes straight. It’s not trying to be a new spin or reinvent the genre or break all the tropes. It’s just a gothic horror story, told exactly like what it is, by a guy who makes damn good movies. I felt like that was really brave and surprising at the time. 

The Visit: M. Night Shyamalan had basically made a joke of himself after a string of awful movies, but this movie was enough to earn back a bit of respect in my book. It’s a clever premise and a smart use of found footage. 

The VVitch: Creepy-ass slow-burn supernatural historical horror, sign me up. I actually don’t like this movie as much as a lot of people (see above: religious-themed horror doesn’t push my fear buttons much) but it’s beautifully made, thoughtful, and artistic in a way that makes people sit up and pay attention to just how good the horror genre can be. 

Krampus: This movie is extremely silly and I love it. A holiday favorite I watch every year now. It’s hilarious, and imaginative, with some really creepy visuals and a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. 

The Invitation: For me, some of my favorite horror movies are the ones where the film is uncomfortable to watch before the actual horror stuff starts up. This one has an almost unbearably tense build-up and pays off in an incredibly satisfying and creepy manner. 

2016: Horror Goes Hella Mainstream

I feel like 2016 was another year of just...lots of kind of fun unique premises tossed out like spaghetti to see what would stick. And I am here for it. 

Don’t Breathe: Home invasion gone wrong is a great trope, and this one gets extra points for having the single most disturbing sequence utilizing a turkey baster I’ve ever seen in film. 

Hush: Speaking of home invasions. This one is pretty standard fare -- homeowner fights back! -- but the deaf main character is a neat twist. 

Lights Out: It’s pretty cheesy at times and the plot sort of falls in on itself, but the opening sequence is genuinely frightening and the movie almost literally killed @comicreliefmorlock so that’s a commendation I guess? 

Train to Busan: An Asian take on the zombie survival story. It’s a really good movie (if horribly bleak) and it does such an excellent job of making you genuinely care for all of the characters. 

The Autopsy of Jane Doe: A really neat premise with some wonderful slow-build horror. The storyline kind of goes off the rails, and it asks a lot of questions it doesn’t answer, but it’s quite good regardless. 

The Forest: I was disappointed with this one -- it just failed to live up to my expectations -- but it’s decent, and it’s a good attempt at capturing the creepiness of Japan’s Suicide Forest. 

Before I Wake: This one was sad more than scary, I thought, but it fits so neatly into a certain aesthetic that I am always a sucker for -- dreams and nightmares bleeding into reality, yes please. 

Split: Say what you will, I thought Split was amazing, and James McAvoy deserves a goddamn Oscar for his performance in this movie. 

The Monster: A hidden gem that’s worth watching to see how well it delivers on its premise: two characters stuck in a car with a monster outside. It’s not amazing, but it’s neat, and sometimes it’s nice to have just a straightforward creature feature with a bit of emotional heft for good measure. 

2017: Did Somebody Say Blockbuster? 

In hindsight, they’ll probably say 2017 was the start of the horror renaissance, but we’ll all know they’re a few years too late. Still, this was another great year: 

Get Out: Funny, dark, deeply uncomfortable and with some real meat to it -- Jordan Peele knows how to make a great movie. This absolutely deserves all the awards. 

It: Not a perfect movie, but a good adaptation of a difficult-to-adapt book. The kids are great. Pennywise is menacing, but that fucking flute lady is the scariest part. 

It Comes At Night: I didn’t like this one much, but a lot of folks did so it makes the list. See above re: It Follows. 

Gerald’s Game: Everything that’s wrong with this movie (ie, the ending) is wrong in the original story, so where this movie fails it’s a matter of sticking too close to its source material. But the premise is truly, genuinely horrifying, and the degloving scene almost made me vomit. So that’s cool. 

Happy Death Day: Another horror-comedy, with a healthy dose of self-awareness. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, and that’s what allows it to be fun. 

The Babysitter: This movie is hilarious. It’s also super bloody and clever and clearly made by people who love slashers, and the affection shows. 

The Ritual: So-so in the acting and pacing, but the creature design is A+ and the concept is really neat. Seriously just watch this one for the monster, it’s super cool looking. 

I should probably mention Mother here, but I can’t speak for it as I haven’t gotten around to watching it yet. It’s a very divisive film. One of these days I’ll watch it and let you know.

2018: There’s More Where That Came From 

If 2016 was the year of filmmakers just trying stuff for the hell of it, 2018 was the year of talented filmmakers and studios realizing that, oh shit, you can make really good horror movies with mass appeal. 

A Quiet Place: I’m glad I caught this one in theaters, because it really deserves to be watched in a dark, quiet room where no one dares to make a sound. The ending left a lot to be desired, but it was a clever premise. 

Hereditary: The best horror movie of the year imo. Painfully uncomfortable - I’m not sure I could watch it again - but highly recommended. 

Apostle: Watch this one in a triple-feature with The VVitch and Hereditary. A really good period piece with a character you actually want to root for. 

Bird Box: I didn’t like this movie much, but it was hugely popular. I bought the book recently and suspect it is much better. Still, it’s worth a mention for its impact on mainstream viewers (lots of people who don’t like horror really liked this movie). I won’t budge from my initial opinion that it’s just A Quiet Place meets The Happening, though. 

What Does 2019 Hold? 

We’re only halfway through the year, so we’ve got some time to see what is coming down the pipe. Lots of things to look forward to! But some solid titles so far this year that I’d heartily recommend: 

Us: Jordan Peele is at it again. It may not be as good as Get Out  -- there’s some plot holes where the internal logic of the world is at odds with the message it’s trying to send -- but it’s thoughtful and gives plenty to chew on. And there are places where it’s just unbearably tense and creepy. 

Brightburn: I had high hopes for this movie and was not disappointed. This is a super (ha, ha) good film. 

The Wind: A Gothic on the American frontier. It accomplishes what I think It Comes At Night was supposed to do, but more effectively (for me anyway). Bonus points for being written and directed by women. Double bonus: Caitlin Gerard, the main actress, is also the lead character in Smiley. 

I have not yet watched Velvet Buzzsaw, Ma or Midsommar this year, but I really want to. I’m also looking forward to the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark film despite having some reservations about the whole concept. 

[flyzlk]

ight so i left the atl tumblrbase about 3yrs ago now and i came back because i missed them and im feeling like its a ghost town now? like? where the hell is everyone? all the blogs i knew still exist but they havent posted in a year, months or weeks. i recognized your blog name so. do you know of any active atl blogs? im kinda desperate cause the tmblr search is just showing the same things.

Believe it or not, I literally just reactivated this blog a few days ago haha. I also missed them and the fan base, but it is actually dead here haha. Honestly the fan base has been steadily dying since like... 2017 if you ask me but I’d like to just pretend the deadness is due to ATLs one year break and having no new content to play with. Also, I think most the fan base is in their early 20s now so college and work and jazz is keeping people from being as active as we were when we were 16/17.

To answer your question I don’t think I know many active blogs that are JUST ATL, I myself are struggling to find anyone who doesn’t just post them occasionally. If you’re a ATL blog, please like this post and help some fellas out.

That being said, we could try and dig the ATL fandom out from its cold grave with our bare hands. I see group chats are now an option, that’d be a good place to start. Lemme know if anyone would be interested in a ATL revival group chat LOL

[writing-anomaly]

Torn

Fandom:  Jojolion

Summary: Yasuho’s life is tearing at the seams. The volatile Rokakaka trade is catching up to them and when Josuke unravels, Yasuho  is pushed to her limit. She’s left more vulnerable than ever as she struggles to protect two men who barely know her.

This a story in which the protected must become the protector.

Chapter 7

Author’s Note: 

Excuse my pseudo-science, I'm pulling stuff out of my butt (   |   )

What I say is scientific law in this alternative universe, so let's just say it works, mmkay.

"Impossible."

The last time Yasuho had seen Kira Yoshikage, his decayed wrist was poking out from under a mound of dirt at the wall eyes. She had called the police herself and saw the body collected by the coroner. By all means, the authorities should have ordered it to be cremated at this point.

Yet there he was.

Hooked up to every kind of machinery she'd never seen before.

Yasuho stood up and approached the body with caution. His alabaster skin was cool and smooth beneath the finger she dragged along the curve of his calf. The muscle, small and tight, clung to the bone like a wet towel.

Yoshikage was naked, save for a small linen cloth to cover his private. His chest was broad like Josuke's and glistened with a soft sheen as the contours of his rib cage expanded abruptly with each pump of a rather loud contraption.

Just how long had the body been in this hospital?

There was chart board clipped to the side of the bed which Yasuho wasted no time to inspect. Whomever had decided to keep it, must've had a goal in mind. She read the report with bated breath.

~~~

Case study: Hybrid Rokakaka recipient

Subject: Kira Yoshikage, 29 — Ship Doctor

Suspected of rokakaka theft, subject was confronted by Damo Tamaki's group, but managed to escape along with one other individual, kuujo Josefumi.

They sustained grave injuries that led to consumption of a grafted version of the Rokakaka. (Base plant, determined to be a peach tree.)

Subject was later nuetralized by Yagiyama Yotsuyu and buried underground near the Higashikata estate. When the subject's body was discovered by civilians, it was retrieved by Rock Human division 901 and brought to University Hospital for further research.

The body of his co-conspirator, Kuujo Josefumi, has yet to be found.

(Damo Tamaki has adopted his family registry and other identification files.)

Research findings:

Upon retrieval, body was found to have begun the decay process. Damo Tamaki reported removal of subject's liver, along with various other cuts and lacerations sustained during an interrogation process.

When inspected, the wounds were found to be sufficiently healed. The liver was partially regenerated as well.

Moreover, after connecting the body to life support, cell turnover was stimulated and the body began to revive immediately. The liver produced could sufficiently filter toxins out of the blood stream and functions normally.

There has been no detectable brain waves since retrieval, however, when disconnected from life support the body can support itself for 72 hours before showing signs of breakdown.

Equivalent Exchange Results:

1. Irises are bicolored

2. Testicles are missing

3. Tongue is bi-textured

4. DNA showed abnormal chromosome count and appears unstable.

When considering the state of the subject's body, we have concluded that the Rokakaka fruit produced through grafting, has introduced a new form of equivalency. While the original Rokakaka produced an exchange within the consumer's own body, we speculated that the grafted Rokakaka produced an exchange between two individuals with minimal adverse effects. Findings will remain incomplete until the other half of the subject's equivalent exchange is found and studied, or a similar fruit is cultivated and tested.

Further Action:

1. Retrieve the body of Kuujo Josefumi

2. Locate the exact tree on which the Rokakaka was grafted in order to conduct research under controlled conditions.

~~~

Yasuho's brows furrowed.

As far as she knew Kuujo Josefumi's body was no more. Josuke was all that was left, which meant he was their main target as of now.

"Oh, God.. Josuke.."

Yasuho, heaved a frustrated breath. Her head suddenly became foggy as she attempted to process the seriousness of her dilemma.She'd only come to Kaito's office for a quick errand and ended up walking straight into devil's chamber. There was no doubt in her mind, Kaito had to be a Rock Person; he was connected to the people who left Josuke to die at the wall eyes!

And he had married her mother.

This was bad.

Very bad.

Yasuho's finger trembled where it rested on the metal handrail of the hospital bed causing what she assumed to be Yoshikage's stand, Killer Queen, to look at her curiously from where it was nuzzled against his body. The sight of it's massive muscles cuddling Yoshikage's significantly smaller frame would have been comical in less stressful circumstances. But considering what she was currently dealing with, Yasuho realized that she was in danger.

"What should I do?"

She wasn't confident in her ability to carry Yoshikage's body, but she couldn't just leave him there either. He was a part of Josuke, of that, she was sure.

Her phone gently chimed, bringing her out of her train of thought.

There was no text, or call to show on the history, but she was smart enough to take the hint that Paisely Park gave to her. She had to tell Josuke what she found. He'd know what to do.

But what could she tell him?

'Hey, I just found your corpse, mind if I take it home?'

Not that she could take it home.

Kaito would be there...and he would know what she did. Lost for words, she activated her phone's camera and documented Yoshikage's Medical records, storing them to her phone along with pictures of his body and started to text Josuke.

Right as she was about to press send, she heard the main door to the office open with a loud click! Yasuho quickly ducked to the side, behind a thick cart alongside the sole entry to the hidden room.

"I see you've made a mess of the place, Yamada-san..almost makes me regret moving to the gynecology department." A deep, but unfamiliar voice rung out along with two sets of footsteps.

"Not at all, Dr. Tomoki. My office is ordered efficiently for what I need to accomplish." Kaito's lyrical voice was a stark contrast to his companion's low monotone.

"What was that again? I heard you lost a patient today. What was it that you were accomplishing?" She heard a mild creaking noise followed by a thud of a body sitting onto a chair.

"Oh c'mon Tomoki-kun" Kaito teased. "My best services are reserved for those who can afford my talents, as you well know."

"I'm not familiar with failure in any sense. I only know success. I've never, in all my practice, have lost anyone or anything."

"How lucky your patients must be." Kaito's hearty laugh was cut short by a sudden wail of plastic grinding into the tile floor.There was a moment of silence and had Yasuho not been looking at the light protruding from the only opening to the room, she wouldn't have realized how compromised her safety had become.

The elongated shadows of the two men grew within the entryway.

Yasuho sat, hunched, in the darkness of the hidden room, holding her knees tight to her chest and trying not to draw attention to herself.

Silly her, didn't think to close the door.

She was reckless like that.

Too caught up in the chaos of the situation to cover her tracks.

A growing desperation set her heart aflight.

Facing Kaito alone didn't seem like a good idea. Every rock-human she'd come in contact with, seemed to be a stand user. Not to mention his companion could be insanely strong... There was no telling what kind of powers they held.

Her confidence in her fighting ability was lacking. She'd dealt with one other Rock Human in the past with the aid of Jobin's son, Tsurugi. The deception of his stand, Paper Moon King, tricked the murderous rock-being into getting hit by a bus. They barely managed to escape.

But in this moment, she was without aid.

Yasuho' s whole being was overcome with terror when she looked up, seeing the profile of a tall man dressed in a lab coat. He was peering past the barrier at Yoshikage's form. A name tag that read Dr. "Tomoki" was pinned awkwardly on his sleeve, barely visible.

His refined lips were down-turned in distaste. "Damn fool. I remember when the brat used to come in here with his mother Kira Holly."

"You're familiar?" Kaito's head peaked from beyond the other doctor, confusion clear on his handsome features.

"Unfortunately." Dr. Tomoki continued. "Holly-san was one of the best surgeons in Morioh. Her spoiled child used to run these halls with undeserved privileges. I, myself, have seen him assist her without a license."

"Really? With the prudes that run this place?" Kaito questioned.

"You can't prove malpractice when the treatment is stand-based." Dr. Tomoki ran a hand over his tall hair, producing a crunch as it was met by the resistance of his stiff follicles. Yasuho could've sworn she saw dandruff flying off of him like snow.

"He was always a cocky young man. His stand power really made him believe he could get away with taking one of our Rokakakas." Kaito didn't seem bothered by the downfall of rock human debris blowing his way and listened interestedly as his friend continued.

"Yoshikage thought he could cure his mother's disease with it. Now he's dead, and she's been carted off to a quiet corner of the hospital to mentally dissolve in peace."

"Damn. Karma's a bitch." Kaito stepped fully in to the room and sauntered to Yoshikage's bedside.

The cat-like stand hadn't moved an inch since the two rock humans arrived, nuzzling Yoshikage's cheek as it had been before.

"Oh, look. A wild pussy." Kaito lips stretched into a mirthful grin as he mocked the stand.

"Leave that thing alone. It's nothing more than Yoshikage's pitiful shadow." A twinge of irritation rose in Dr. Tomoki's monotone.

He paused for a moment before stepping wholly into the room as well. "Speaking of which, I'd wish you'd be less reckless... you left this backroom open. Now I'm forced to clean up your mess."

Yasuho's heart stopped as he turned his body toward her.

Dr. Tomoki locked eyes with her crouched form, penetrating every mental fabrication of safety she'd woven to calm herself. He cocked his head to the side as Kaito followed his line of sight.

Her stepfather's festive demeanor and Tomoki's deadpan were like night and day. The sole similarity shared between the men was a mirthful grin that left Yasuho to become undone. Her body shook involuntarily as she dropped her cell, mind barely registering...

"....please!" She could hardly collect her words before Tomoki shut the opening in the wall behind him, shrouding them all in darkness and strangling Yasuho's only source of light.

To be continued...

[savebatsfromscratch]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21 - I’m supposed to raise the dead, not save them!

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Prompt: Bleeding thru the bandages / pressure / blood-matted hair

-

Also on Ao3 under my same username!

Nico is furiously trying to heal his injured boyfriend.

This one goes out to my youngest sister for requesting me writing Nico and Will angst. (Brilliant. Would have never thought of that.)

(If this is basically a recolored remix of my Jadeshipping whump that's because it is.)

Extra short because I just messed with Minecraft villagers for half an hour and only got one badly priced book out of it. (And I am so done with everything. /hj)

Whumptober has wrecked my Ao3 fandom list.

-

Tws: Blood, crying, implied character death

Words: 1,041

“No no no no no!” Nico screamed, hands tearing at his hair as he realised that his efforts weren’t helping. He was supposed to be saving his boyfriend, but even with every effort he could give, he could honestly only think that he was hurting the situation. (Nothing like helping at all.)

“Nico-” Will’s voice slurred as he tried to calm him down, “It’s okay, just focus.” He held up a hand in a way that was meant to be calming, but because of the shaking of the bruised limb, it only served to make Nico feel more helpless.

“I can’t focus!” he cried, hating himself as he dumped his negative emotions on the one that he needed to be positive with, “I’m too scared!”

“It’s okay to be s-” Will paused to cough, “-cared.”

Nico forced a smile, even as his brows stayed knit in worry. He would do this for Will. (At least as long as he could manage.) He was going to stay calm for him, going to stay calm enough to focus on healing the wicked injuries that covered him.

Nico instinctively searched his bag again, trying to find a piece of ambrosia or a cup of nectar, but coming up empty handed. (Of course he had, Will had given him the last piece, all while hiding his own pain so that Nico would actually eat it.) Gosh what an idiot, a lovable idiot, an idiot he cared about with his life, someone who would be the first he would bring from beyond the grave. (And, based on his injuries, someone who he would have to consider the morality or reviving.)

With that last thought (and another bout of coughing from the other boy), Nico was tugged back to reality. If he didn’t hurry up with his sub-par medical skills, he might not have the teacher to teach them to him anymore. He inhaled shakily, trying to remember how to properly apply a tourniquet to something as he began to wrap Will’s arm in a strip of cloth. (Hoping that the application of pressure would help with the blood leaking out of a nasty cut.)

Once he was done with what he hoped would work, he moved on to wrapping a head injury. (The look of the blond hair matted and stained with blood brought a sick feeling to his stomach, especially as he remembered that he had already tried to treat the source of the blood.)

He had tried to bandage the injury already, but as he applied more, he found that the blood was still coming, bubbling up around his fingers and through the layers of bandages. He felt Will twitch slightly, flinching in pain but staying as still as possible out of the knowledge of how medical work works. “I’m sorry-!” He hissed, trying his best to apply the least amount of pressure while still applying enough, “I’m not a child of Apollo, I don’t know how to do this!”

Will weakly laughed, and, voice still slurring, murmured, “It’s a good thing you aren’t a child of Apollo, because then I wouldn’t get to date you.” (His joke once again ended in a cough, even as it warmed Nico’s heart. He was so strong, being able to joke while in so much pain. If only he could find the ability to heal him, to keep that strength alive.)

“Shhhh..” he whispered, “You need to rest.” (Internally he hoped that Will understood that ‘rest’ didn’t entail leaving his life, that wasn’t exactly a good thing.)

But Will nodded and shut up, eyes blurring with pain as Nico continued his treatment. He understood that Nico was trying his best, but based on the conflicting emotions obvious in his expression, he was losing his regularly positive face.

‘I’m supposed to raise the dead-’ Nico thought, in a sort of unfinished way, ‘Not save them!’

But, as he continued to work, he decided on an ending.

‘But that doesn't mean I won’t try.’

. . .

It was times like these that Nico wished that he had a phone. Yeah, calling someone was basically inviting monsters to come kill you, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t long for the simplicity of calling an ambulance.

Usually, a demigod would be fine as long as they had a good amount of ambrosia and a better amount of survival skills, but that didn’t mean they always would. (And, as Will began to slip in and out of consciousness, Nico feared that his boyfriend was about to become a prime example of that. One that would hurt much more than any of the other ‘examples’ before him.)

He sat back, hands shaking as he watched blood begin to soak through even the last of the bandages. What else did he have to stop its flow? He frantically looked from side to side, even as he knew that a person who was losing that much blood was extremely unlikely to survive.

His eyes skipped over patches of flatted grass and monster dust, before resting on the jacket that he himself was wearing. ‘Of course!’ He thought, the two words instantly shoved aside by more worry, ‘I just hope that it’s enough…’

Instantly, he ripped the jacket off, shivering as his bare arms touched the cold night air, but quickly shoved aside the uncomfort, Will had it much worse.

Wrapping the jacket around the still bleeding head injury, Nico’s mind began to wander. Thoughts of iris messages and 911 calls danced in his vision like they were some sort of present to come on Christmas morning. (Of course, this needless wishing did not distract him from trying to save Will, he was certainly still trying to do that, they only provided a cushion from the dark places his mind was currently going to.)

But maybe it would have been better if they hadn’t been there.

There were many reasons for this, one of the more important being that the wishing provided a reality that wasn’t real. (And everyone who has ever made one knows how awful things can be once they break.) And of course, when screams of horror filled the bloodstained park, it was obvious that this false reality was no different.

[alteriius]

Into The Fire (Updated 3/24/18)

FANDOM: D.Gray-Man PAIRING: Allen Walker/Lavi/Tyki Mikk (Allen Walker/Lavi & Lavi/Tyki Mikk) WORD COUNT: 4,345 LINKS: AO3 | FFN

SUMMARY: Prophecies say that when the first thirteen dragons die, the fourteenth terrorizes the countryside, seeking to revive its dead brethren. It creates disciples, goads them into hunting it with the promise that what was stolen from them will be returned. "You lost your heart to me last time, what did you plan on losing this time?"

This is being updated with the second chapter in celebration of @wipweek​ (March 24th; Favorite WIP) and also to celebrate my anniversary and engagement to @transgenderlavi.

"Kanda, we have to do something!"

"No, we don— Gah!"

The unholy scream that follows would've woken the dead and risen them from the grave if they were close enough to any—but unfortunately, the only one near enough was Lavi and if the noise wasn't enough to wake him, the painful ringing in his ears would've been.

Scrunched up eyes peek open at the two voices, the sight of one blocked out by the eyepatch that remained over his eye. The first face he sees is a young woman no older than himself with long, black tresses that spills over her shoulder when their eyes meet and she leans down to greet him.

"Hey there," she says so soft that he barely hears her over the pained groans of her companion that isn't visible from where he lay. Amethyst-colored eyes glimmered in the afternoon sunlight as a pained smile spread across her face, though he didn't understand what was causing her so much grief.

Lavi's memory is caught in a foggy haze and the knowledge of how he'd gotten here—or where "here" was—was far out of his reach. His vision was blurry from his long nap, though he didn't remember laying down for one. Hadn't he been doing something...?

He opens his mouth to speak and a cough escapes him instead, lungs straining like he'd been swallowing fist fulls of smoke mere moments before this— oh.

Memories of the canyon and what—who—he found in it come rushing back to him at a dizzying pace. Were he standing, he’s sure the biting pain from his worsening headache would've had him on the ground.

Concerned eyes stare down at him as her companion finally returns to join her, but Lavi's attention has fallen away from the two and even the man's features go unrecorded and the distance he keeps despite being in sight goes unnoticed.

Starting to sit up, she jumps to steady his shaky movements, but he is so fixated on the feeling in his chest that he misses the words that bid him to remain still.

He knows his heart is beating out of rhythm like a song that's lost its tempo, but he can't feel it pounding against his chest like it's about to burst from it. Lavi reaches up, touches the torn cloth of his shirt and the second layer of fabric that should've been beneath it.

"You need to rest after what you went through," she says, though her words verge on inaudible as quiet as they are and as far away Lavi's mind is.

"No, I- I can't, I—"

His hand lays over the hole in his shirt, both covering the unbound cleavage and feeling the fresh scar tissue where smooth skin had previously been. Her hands weigh heavy on his shoulders; his body feels like lead as he struggles to move.

It's her companion that finally shatters the nightmare he's been having and makes it a reality.

"Your heart was stolen."

All he hears are the harsh words; he doesn't process what the young lady in front of him says afterwards. He was a draconologist. He'd been told for as long as he could remember that he had no need for a heart, but that was figurative. Being without the blood-pumping organ meant one thing: He was no draconologist now.

He was a slayer, doomed to fight dragons until he died or until his heart was returned to him—or that's what the legends said, anyways.

Lavi could stilll feel his heart beating, but it was far behind him, taunting him as if it wanted him to follow the—as if it wanted to be found.

"What— What happened to me?" he asks, trying to make sense sense of memories wrapped in black smoke. He remembered the scaled claws that had descended on him and pierced his chest, pulled his heart from its cage... In his mind, it looked as much like a fever dream as it felt like one.

Growing up, he'd heard tales of the fourteenth dragon's heart stealing ways, but an unfathomable nightmare had just become his reality.

"The same thing that happens to all of us."

Her smile falters and weakens as she speaks and Lavi's visible eye widens as he finally recognizes the clothes they wore. Garbed in coats of the purest white and hemmed with a vibrant gold, it dawns on him that these are the same people that he would now be expected to fight alongside.

"We all wake up with foggy memories, a scar on our chest and a heart that beats in the stomach of a dragon," she says, though she has no further need to explain. Lavi understands now that he's regaining his bearing, remembering the risk he took when he set foot into the dragon's home.

More than being turned into a disciple, however, he almost expected to be eaten in his entirety as a mid-morning snack for a monster.

Stories had told him that only those worthy and brave enough to face the dragon would have their hearts ripped from their chests by it. Many draconologists had been killed in their pursuit of the dragon before him, so why had it chosen him as worthy?

He didn't want this.

"What's your name?"

The question takes him by surprise. So lost in his thoughts he had been, he doesn't realize for another second that this is the second time she's asked him that.

"L-Lavi," he says, struggling with unfamiliar stutters. This wasn't a problem that had ever happened before, but panic was threatening to suffocate him. "My name is Lavi."

"Well, Lavi, my name is Lenalee Lee."

As she speaks, she draws back and makes a motion with her hand. He hears a sound like a horse neighing overhead before a gust of wind musses his hair, eyes scrunching up briefly as he raises a hand to block out the fierce wind. With eyes shut tight, he can only hear the beating of wings as someone significantly smaller than a dragon lands behind Lenalee.

A wave of terror washes over him, his eyes snapping open to see not a monster, but a—

"A pegasus?" Lavi asks, not able to believe what he's saying. Lenalee greets the black-winged creature as she procurs something from a storage pack strapped to its side, out of the way of its large wingspan.

When she turns back around, he sees a knitted, tan shawl in her hands and he wonders if that was a product she herself had created before she returned and wrapped it around his shoulders, hiding what Lavi didn't want the rest of the world to see. He barely has time to mutter his gratitude before she's helping him to his feet.

"You should come with me. There are some people that you need to meet."

Though he knows he'll never be able to fight a dragon in the same way she or her unnamed companion might, Lavi follows her lead, too exhausted to refuse.

Exhaustion had set into his bones long before she loaded him onto her steed—Koku, he learned his name was—like he was little more than cargo, though that was probably an accurate description of how all Disciples of the Holy Order were treated by the organization that housed them.

Knowing what he did, it was probably foolish to agree to accompany her to the castle that was their headquarters. His master had always planned for them to visit together so that he could navigate the Holy Order's parasitic politics that were designed to award the draconologists with as little as possible while their own organization raked in intellectual profit.

None of this was supposed to happen.  

He was supposed to come here in one piece, with a beating heart in his chest and an old man screaming in his ear to play his assigned role as a "proper" draconologist—though he was more like the few others he'd met than the old man was.

And he was definitely not supposed to arrive on the back of pegasus, arms wrapped around a cute sky knight to keep himself from being blown off the creature's back.

Their descent into the courtyard is slowed by Koku's powerful wings and he finds himself unnerved by the way all heads turn to look at them, gazes focused not on the returning Disciple, but him.

He can see those near enough to him arching their brows at the sight of him, even as Lenalee slides off the pegasus and helps him do the same. Such would warrant loud complaints, if not for how tired he was and how unnerving having so many eyes on him was.

Once his feet found the ground, the murmuring begins and he wraps the shawl tighter around his shoulders, hiding his form and the scar on his chest. This was not a situation he was used to.

For him, normal was receiving the ire of dozens of strangers in the town square when he can't keep his mouth shut. The attention awarded to him now was different.

His time here could be counted in minutes on a single hand, but Lavi had already formed an opinion.

He didn't like any of this.

Lavi desired more than anything to leave this place and go back to the drawing board to find a better way to approach the dragon and probe it for information. It left a painful ache in his chest that wasn't born from the loss of what should have been there.

Through the dragon's magic alone, he still drew breath and there was no byproduct of the spell that sated his curiosity. With every step further into the Holy Order's headquarters and every sight within it, his desire to understand the dragon and its motives only grew.

After proceeding through a number of rooms that anyone with a lesser memory might call a maze, Lenalee opens a pair of large doors decorated by a stained glass painting of a dragon—the eighth, he noted—being slain.

Absently, he wondered if the Disciple pictured there still lived.

Through those double doors that depicted the first slaying of this generation of dragons was a man that sat behind a desk littered with papers that pegged him as something akin to the draconologist's chief of operations.

"Brother," Lenalee greets as she shuts the door tight behind them, leaving Lavi to wonder if that's for the sake of privacy or more to slow any potential attempt at escape. She strode up to stand next to where he sat before she gestured to him.  

"This is Lavi. Kanda and I found—" She pauses briefly, glancing at him in time to see him cringe. "—him at the canyon's border."

A sigh of relief slips through Lavi's lips and he offers her a smile, which she returns with the same vibrancy.

Though she gives no more details, her chief—her brother—nods, understanding. His lips form a smile, though the depths of its sadness are something that Lavi can't hope to figure out.

"So you've been made a disciple," he says, linking his fingers together to rest his chin on his hands. Lavi knows that his words are true. For all anyone cares, Lavi is nothing more and nothing less than a disciple now and the missing organ in his chest proves as much to everyone but himself.

"I'm... I'm a draconologist," Lavi says with unfamiliar uncertainty. Never has he been forced to question who he was before. From a young age, he has been trained for one purpose and the idea of losing his very reason for living...

Two sets of eyes widen, the two other people turning to look at each other before their gazes move back to him.

"You're a draconologist?"

He repeats it as if it's blasphemous and perhaps it is. Never before had a draconologist been recorded as a victim of the fourteenth dragon. Lavi was the first.

"Yes, I am," Lavi says, though the words aren't the entire truth. After all, he's a mere apprentice. He can't claim the title like the others could; he still has to earn that. "I was so close to learning something out there. The dragon might've stolen my heart, but I can still feel it and I can feel I was about to find out somethin' important!"

He had too many questions to quietly give up, to try and kill the creature he'd been ready to die to learn more about.

"Do you really have a choice? The only way to get your heart back is to fight and kill the dragon."

"I'm still breathin'!" Lavi says, his curiosity only growing thanks to the empty space in his chest. It was a void that seemed to be filled with questions that increased in number every minute that passed. His nerves were still clawing at him, but fear was overpowered by enthusiasm and a thirst for knowledge that couldn't be sated by slaying a dragon.

This time, Lenalee opens her mouth to protest and he knows by the look in her eyes the jist of what she's going to say before the words leave her lips. And he interrupts her before they can with a smile that didn't suit a man likely to walk out of this castle and meet his doom at the claws of a Great Dragon.

"I'll figure something out."

Lavi turns to leave, smile falling the minute he turns his back on them. Worry settles over him like a beast more terrifying than the one that had taken his heart. More than ever before, he was certain that his passion would end in his death sooner than he or his master had been prepared for.

"Wait," Lenalee starts and Lavi holds his hands up before she can start. He won't be convinced; he's already convinced himself that this is the right path. That simply letting go isn't his style.

"Sorry, Lena, but unless yer gonna offer ta help me..."

"I can't help you," she says and Lavi hand drops back down to his side. He'd expected as much. She seemed kind, but she was a disciple. Her ability to work outside the confines of what the Holy Order decided was appropriate for her had a very limited scope and pushing her past that could put her in grave danger. "But I think I know someone who can."

"Ya know somebody crazy enough to hunt down a dragon besides the other disciples, while not killing it?"

He turns back to the duo in question, sees the smiles on their faces. Looks like "crazy" might be a perfect word for whoever they have in mind.

"Have you ever heard of the Noah family?"

[greed-the-dorkalicious]

Between Life and Death, Chapter I

Fandom: Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure Major characters (thus far): Jonathan Joestar, Dio Brando Pairings: None (DO NOT TAG AS J/ONADI/O PLEASE AND THANK YOU) Word count: 3,890 Warnings: Semi-graphic violence, dark themes, endgame spoilers for Phantom Blood and Stardust Crusaders Notes: There is a playlist that goes along with this fic, designed to sync with the story if listened to while reading the fic. You can find chapters 1 - 5 here, or alternatively here on YouTube. For chapter 1 only, go here.

Read on AO3

Chapter I - Like I Belong To You

Why do you still look at me like I belong to you? It's like you won't let me go no matter what I do You must be a parasite, or some sick disease Your fingers wrapped around my throat, suffocating me

~Crusher-P, “Biohazard”

---

Jonathan Joestar took his first breath in 99 years, and knew that something was wrong.

No, not something. Everything.

Everything was wrong.

He gasped as he was suddenly thrust back into a living body, with a heart, lungs, nerves, and muscles. He first became aware of a dull pain in his neck and throat, and then of something soft underneath him, and a sense of living presences nearby. Slowly, Jonathan opened his eyes.

He lay on a large, ornate wooden canopy bed, with a thick mattress and large pillows, framed by blue sheer curtains. The room appeared to be round, with stone walls, a fireplace to one side, and boarded windows. Though he could see with little trouble, the only sources of light seemed to be two tall candles on either side of the bed.

Looming over him from one side was the last person he’d seen alive, and the last person he wanted to see.

“Dio,” Jonathan whispered breathlessly.

Dio smiled, a slow, devilish grin that sent chills down Jonathan’s spine. (Whose spine, he wondered?)

“Hello, Jojo. Welcome back to the land of the living,” Dio said, his voice as calm and haughty as ever.

“What have you done?” Jonathan gasped quietly as he slowly, shakily sat up, eyes wide with horror. Everything felt so wrong.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve given you a second chance,” Dio replied simply. “You died far too young. I’ve given you a chance to live the life you never had.”

“Well if you felt that way maybe you shouldn’t have murdered me in the first place,” Jonathan retorted in anger. “It’s too late for me now, Dio. Everyone I care about is long dead, there’s nothing left for me here. I shouldn’t be here and I don’t want to be here,” he argued. There was fury and hurt in his voice, and his stare was like fire.

Jonathan was so outraged. Everything was wrong. Even after death, he could never escape Dio. He was trapped under Dio’s foot, and Dio would never stop hurting him, each time worse than the last. Dio had torn him from the world of the dead- where he had been perfectly content for the first time- and forced him into a plane of existence where Jonathan was not supposed to be, and destroyed the entire balance of life and death in the process. It hurt.

On top of that, Jonathan knew there was only one way Dio could have accomplished this feat. He felt it, too, and knew it was true- Dio had revived Jonathan as a vampire, a monster, an unholy abomination which could only hurt others. And he had attached Jonathan’s head onto someone else’s body, like Dio had stolen Jonathan’s body all those years ago.

“...We have all the freedom in the world, after all. We could even go back to England if you like, or...” Dio was, apparently, still talking. Absorbed in his indignation and sorrow, Jonathan hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t know how long Dio had been talking, and he didn’t care, interrupting him to carry over his train of thought. Or train of anger, as it were.

“Whose body is this?!” he growled, grabbing Dio by his shirt collar and slamming him into the bedpost. The post snapped behind Dio, and for a brief moment, Dio looked surprised. Jonathan had taken him off guard.

“Y-your great-great-grandson, Jotaro Kujo,” Dio gasped underneath Jonathan’s grip. This answer only served to make Jonathan angrier.

Jonathan threw Dio across the room, too enraged to notice or care about his newfound unnatural strength.

“You bastard!” he snarled. “It wasn’t enough to kill me, or my father, or my dog, now you have to hurt my descendants as well?! Enough is enough, Dio!”

Dio stood up, brushed the rubble from the smashed wall off his clothes, and crossed his arms with a huff. “They were a nuisance,” he explained annoyedly.

“‘A nuisance’?! Oh, what, are you just murdering anyone who irritates you now?!” Jonathan demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“They were actively trying to kill me,” Dio elaborated.

“And no wonder, if this is what you’ve become,” Jonathan rebutted dryly.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset, really. It’s not as if you knew any of them personally,” Dio said with a shrug.

“That’s not the point, Dio! They’re still my family, and aside from that, you’re still murdering innocent people!”

“That’s the way of this world, is it not? The strong destroy the weak. Your family line is weak. Their deaths were inevitable,” Dio argued, with the same level of emotional detachment that continued to bother Jonathan so much. He spoke as if they were simply discussing the ending of a book.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at Dio’s philosophy. “Oh? And what does that make me, then?”

Dio paused for a moment, thinking this over.

“...Let me rephrase my statement. The strong destroy the weak, so that the strong may have whatever they desire,” he began. “I desired your companionship, since it gets boring having no true kindred spirits, and since I am strong, I can have that. It’s possible that someday, you might become even stronger than me, and then you can have whatever you want. But knowing your personality, I doubt that will ever happen,” he finished rather condescendingly.

“Yes, and I didn’t think you’d go so far as to become a vampire. I guess we’re both full of surprises,” Jonathan shot back threateningly.

Dio smirked. “We’ll see. For now, allow me to get you up to speed,” he suggested. “You might want to have a seat.”

Jonathan sighed. “Fine,” he muttered reluctantly. He sat down on the bed with a huff, his uncomfortably unfamiliar arms crossed against his chest. He glanced at the broken post for a brief second, feeling a flicker of both embarrassment and irritation, then turned his attention back to Dio, who paced leisurely across the floor as he spoke.

“Thanks to your obnoxious heroics, I had the misfortune to wind up stuck in a box at the bottom of the ocean for a century,” Dio began, scowling at Jonathan for a moment as he recalled the experience. “Luckily for me, I was… kindly rescued by a ship full of fools in search of treasure in the shipwreck.” This time, Dio’s expression was a mischievous grin, with a flash of fangs glinting ominously in the flickering candlelight.

“I take it those men are now dead,” Jonathan guessed.

“Obviously. Anyway, I wound up in Egypt, so I decided to take up residence in Cairo. So much has changed in the world since we last saw each other, Jojo!” Dio exclaimed, turning around and holding up his arms in a wide, sweeping gesture. “Carriages have been replaced with automobiles, humans have achieved vehicular flight and even space travel, there have been multiple global-scale world wars- apparently the Germans committed racial genocide, believe it or not. Long-distance communication has-”

“I know about all of those things, Dio. My son was a pilot in the Great War until one of your zombies murdered him,” Jonathan snarled. “Tell me why you killed my grandson.”

Dio raised an eyebrow what might have been almost some form of mild interest, or perhaps surprise. “Was he? Hm. Anyway…” Dio paused for a minute, considering how to continue his story.

“...Tell me, Jojo, do you know what a stand is?” he began thoughtfully.

“No…” Jonathan answered, feeling suddenly uncertain. The way Dio had spoken made it seem like he was referring to something much more grave than simply an item used to prop something up.

“A stand, as they are known, is a metaphysical manifestation of one’s will to fight. A guardian spirit, if you will,” Dio explained, as if giving a lecture. “Only a small fraction of the world’s population has the potential to develop a stand. They come in a wide variety of appearances and functions, and generally are invisible to all but other stand users. My stand, The World, has incredible speed and power, and… The ability to stop time at my whim, allowing only I, Dio, to move for several seconds. To put it simply, it is the ultimate stand,” he declared proudly.

“Is that so,” Jonathan replied flatly, unimpressed by Dio’s child-like hubris.

Dio paused for a moment, considering Jonathan’s apathetic reaction.

“...I will admit, your descendants and their companions had some quite interesting stands themselves,” Dio commented. “Jotaro’s stand, Star Platinum, was actually rather similar to The World. But as I said, The World is the ultimate stand, and Star Platinum was weak. Killing Jotaro was all too easy,” he bragged. He paused for a moment, and waited for Jonathan to respond to this statement.

Jonathan said nothing, only watching Dio with an irritated expression, waiting for him to finish his explanation.. Seeing Jonathan’s lack of reaction, Dio frowned slightly in disappointment, but continued nonetheless.

“But you see, Jojo… To be frank, it’s boring having this much power. Nothing challenges me, nothing excites me... Everyone is simply so far beneath me. There is no one on this earth who can stand as my equal, intellectually or physically. At least, that is… until now,” he finished slowly, pausing in his pacing to turn and stare at Jonathan with an almost hungry look, one that chilled Jonathan to his core.

“So in other words… You resurrected me because you were bored,” Jonathan translated.

“I suppose you could say that, yes,” Dio replied amusedly.

Jonathan paused, unable to say a word. He seethed with anger as he processed this information, Dio’s casual attitude, the grim reality of the situation, everything.

“...You are truly the most vile person to ever live,” he whispered, voice shaking along with his body as he slowly stood up. He looked around for an exit, and upon spotting a single set of descending stairs, he began walking towards them with heavy, tense steps.

Dio watched Jonathan with detached casualty. “And just where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“Anywhere but here,” Jonathan growled in response. He startled as Dio suddenly appeared between him and the stairs, causing Jonathan to nearly crash into him.

How had Dio done that..?

Jonathan shook his head, willing himself to ignore the mixture of shock, confusion, intrigue, and fear he felt at the strange occurrence; It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Dio do weird, unexpected, and mildly terrifying things before. No matter. Jonathan was going to get the hell away from this nightmare, and he wasn’t going to let Dio’s intimidation tactics stop him. And so, he pushed past Dio, unwavering in his advancement towards the exit.

Dio bared his teeth in an unsettling expression that may have been either a grin or a scowl, and suddenly lunged towards Jonathan with startling speed, giving him no time to react. “I don’t think so,” Dio snarled as he grabbed Jonathan’s wrist and roughly yanked him backwards.

Jonathan gasped, stumbling backwards, but managed to at least stop himself from falling to the ground.

“Let me go, Dio!” he demanded, and tried to pull his hand away, only to be shoved against the wall with equal violence.

As Dio attacked him, most of Jonathan’s fighting instincts came roaring back from their century-long nap, and adrenaline coursed through his new body. The deepest reaches of his soul reacted to the danger he was in with an instinct to protect himself, to augment his abilities by tapping into an ancient, primordial power within himself- an instinct he responded to by taking a deep, slow breath and drawing back his arm, a skill he had practiced to the point that it was almost a reflex.

Jonathan’s fist collided with Dio’s face, but to his surprise, that was all that happened; there was no warm tingling in his hand, no ringing sound or sparks of energy, no screaming in pain. He watched with horror as Dio smirked and grabbed his wrist, leaving Jonathan with no free hands left.

“Really now, did you honestly think a vampire could use hamon? How foolishly naive.”

Within seconds, Dio had Jonathan slammed down against the ground. Jonathan let out a grunt of pain as he hit the floor hard, knocking the air out of his lungs (although evidently, it wasn’t like he needed it anyway, with no potential for hamon).

“You useless, useless fool. You’re out of practice. You’re weakened. You don’t even have any special abilities to speak of,” Dio taunted Jonathan- as Jonathan tried to stand up, Dio stepped on his head- “You have no chance of escape. And even if you did, where would you go? You’re in an unfamiliar world, with no money and no allies.”

Jonathan tried to make a reply, but was met with Dio pressing his foot down harder, squishing Jonathan’s cheek and making it impossible to open his mouth. Jonathan’s vision swam, and his neck ached painfully.

“But there’s no need to despair,” Dio continued, speaking just slightly less threateningly. “Believe it or not, I don’t intend to be especially cruel to you. Relax! You’re my companion now, not my enemy,” he declared, which Jonathan thought was the biggest lie he’d heard since… Well, since Dio had tried to convince Jonathan he hadn’t meant to murder their father.

Dio suddenly stepped away from Jonathan. “I understand that you need some time to process things, so I’ll leave you alone for a little while,” he announced.

Jonathan could only watch, astounded and confused, as Dio slowly disappeared down the stairs. He heard Dio’s footsteps continue, getting farther and farther away, and finally heard the sound of a heavy door closing.

...And then, suddenly, it was almost as if a switch was flipped. Jonathan’s fiery, defiant attitude quickly vanished, like body heat sapped by a cold English winter wind.

He was no valiant, courageous hero; He was just a man, young yet old at the same time, lying alone and in pain on the floor of an unfamiliar place in an unfamiliar time. He had been stolen away from his friends and family and imprisoned with no means of escape by the man who had tormented him for so many years, and turned into an unholy, cannibalistic abomination, a twisted replica of Frankenstein’s monster fashioned from the corpse of his own teenage grandson. This was the horrific fate Jonathan had somehow been assigned, with no warning and no means of fighting back. Forever.

Jonathan felt overwhelmed with grief like never before, and then the world went dark.

---

When Jonathan awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed since he’d blacked out. An hour? Five minutes? A day? A few seconds? With no clock and no windows, he had no way of gauging the passage of time.

He listened closely to the room around him, trying to detect any possible signs of Dio or someone else being around, but everything was silent. This was somewhat reassuring to him, and he slowly pushed himself off the ground with stiff, sluggish movements. His body still ached in several places.

Once he’d gotten to his feet, Jonathan decided to investigate his surroundings. Maybe he could find something useful, some small hope for escape.

As he’d observed before, the room was round, and medium in size; Judging by the descending stairs, he suspected it was the top of a tower. It appeared to be made entirely of stone, with a simple, rectangular purple rug covering the middle of the floor. The ceiling was dome-shaped, with a crisscrossing nexus of arches spanning across its diameter, each arch supported on either end by several ornate stone pillars around the room.

In the middle of the room was the canopy bed he’d first woken up on, now broken with one post snapped, causing the canopy to hang down precariously at one corner. The bed was flanked at the head by two large candles in tall, skinny brass candle holders. To the left side of the bed was a round night stand with the same type of design and wood as the bed, though there was nothing on top of it.

The walls were decorated with a variety of framed maps and landscape paintings; There was one world map, along with several more specific maps, some of which were written in Arabic. Jonathan recognized one of the paintings as the Giza necropolis, but the others were unfamiliar, generic-looking locations. He studied them closely as he walked around the room’s perimeter, but failed to recognize any of them. He did, however, notice a cracked dent in the wall where Dio had attacked him.

As he continued around the room, he came to a fireplace- it was only a few feet high, but the mantle was topped by a large, arched mirror that stretched all the way up to the moulding where the wall met the ceiling. (He noted that there was also a small clock on the mantle.) Initially, he intended to keep walking, but found himself… stopping, for a moment, in front of the mirror. One way or another, he couldn’t look away, staring at his reflection with wide eyes and an almost faraway feeling.

He studied his appearance in the mirror, feeling slightly sick as he took it all in. His once-bright blue eyes had turned a deep wine red, and as his mouth hung open slightly in awe, a pair of small fangs glinted in the candlelight. The unnatural paleness of his face ended abruptly at the neck, contrasted by slightly more tan skin from the neck down, and joined by irritated, angry pink scar tissue that stung continually. A few drops of blood ran down his neck, too, staining the too-big white dress shirt and simple purple waistcoat that covered his chest.

He touched a hand to his face, slowly; The contrast in skin tone, though it wasn’t a huge difference, was unsettling. Looking closely, he also noticed that his stolen hand was slightly calloused, and had what looked like burn scars in several places. Why, he wondered?

Eventually, Jonathan forced himself to tear his gaze away from the mirror. There was no time to mourn now; He needed to look for a way out.

Naturally, the best place to start his search would be the windows. He walked over to one of the room’s two windows, hoping to be able to open it somehow, but found that the wooden shutters were covered by a second pair of iron bar shutters, latched and locked with a heavy padlock. He gave the shutters a rattle for good measure, but they seemed solidly attached to the walls. So much for that plan.

It seemed there were no possible escape routes left, other than the stairs, though something told Jonathan he wasn’t going to have much luck there either (though that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try, of course). Feeling somewhat mentally drained and weighed down by the grim reality of the situation, he decided to rest for a bit before venturing downstairs. He sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh, sinking into the thick mattress. He slumped against one of the remaining posts and stared aimlessly at the wall with tired eyes.

He didn’t get to rest for long, though; After only a minute or two, he once again heard the heavy grinding noise of the door at the bottom of the stairs. He sat up abruptly, listening to footsteps- no, two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs, his stolen heart pounding in his chest.

Dio smiled at Jonathan as he entered the room. “Hello again, Jojo. I take it you’ve calmed down by now?”

“Not really, now what do you want?” Jonathan replied with a halfhearted glare.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Dio answered.

Dio snapped his fingers, and a man with the strangest and tallest hair Jonathan had ever seen emerged from the stairwell and came to Dio’s side, seemingly hovering across the floor to get there. The man wore clothes that were in a similar strange, outlandish style to Dio’s (albeit less… revealing), and his face had strange blue striped markings.

“This is my servant, d’Arby. Consider him completely at your disposal,” Dio told Jonathan, and then turned towards d’Arby. “Now remember, you are to treat Jojo with the same respect you would show me,” he said commandingly.

“Yes, Lord Dio,” d’Arby said with an obedient nod. To Jonathan’s surprise, he then got down on one knee, bowing deeply towards Jonathan with his eyes closed and his head lowered.

“It is an honor to serve you, Lord Jonathan. Anything you wish of me, I will do in earnest,” he said reverently.

Jonathan glanced from d’Arby to Dio, feeling rather uncomfortable. Of course, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had servants before (to say his childhood had been privileged would be an understatement), but servants were employees- they had always treated Jonathan with fondness, sure, but when it boiled down to it servants were just working to earn their daily bread, like anyone else. This d’Arby person seemed to treat Dio, and indeed Jonathan himself, less like a boss and more like some sort of god. It was disturbing. And on top of that, what kind of person would work as Dio’s servant, anyway? There was something unsettling about d’Arby.

But what could Jonathan do? It had already been established that for the time being, at least, he was trapped at Dio’s mercy. He supposed it would be best to play it safe and try to stay on d’Arby’s good side; If he was evil like Dio, at least maybe Jonathan could avoid starting trouble, and if he had some good in him, maybe there was a chance Jonathan could convince him to give up his loyalty to Dio.

“...It’s nice to meet you, d’Arby,” Jonathan said politely.  “Please, there’s no need to kneel.”

D’Arby remained at Jonathan’s feet, still in the same position. “I must behave with proper etiquette,” he answered quietly.

Jonathan shot Dio an awkward, questioning look, but Dio simply raised an eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to just leave him there all day?” he asked sarcastically.

Jonathan frowned and looked back down at d’Arby. Did he seriously need explicit permission to stop kneeling..?

“Uh. You… you can stand up now?” he told d’Arby tentatively. This seemed to be what d’Arby was waiting for, as he let out a barely-audible sigh of relief and stood up, moving instead to stand obediently by Dio’s side.

Dio smiled in satisfaction. “Excellent. Now then, come; Let me give you a tour of the mansion,” he suggested casually. “It’s as much your home as it is mine, now, so of course you ought to become acquainted with the layout.”

With that, Dio turned on his heel and proceeded leisurely down the stairs, with d’Arby following wordlessly behind him.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit like he had whiplash, but it wasn’t like he had anything else he could do. The ball was entirely in Dio’s court.

Jonathan took a deep, nervous breath, and followed Dio down the stairs.