#‘I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion that I will be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia’ has to be mine

[mellorphic]

Have not seen enough people on my dash talking about call me what you like so put in the tags what your favourite lyric is!!

[idleoblivion]

"The Dismal Story of Our Creation" Malleus Draconia x GN Reader

Spoilers for Book 7!

Synopsis: Malleus has put the island to sleep, but the dream he puts you in is an especially unique one.

Word Count: ~1200 A/N: Thank you to everyone who sent me happy birthday messages! I hope to finish a few more drafts soon to make up for my absence. I loved writing him as a yandere, it just fits him so well to me.

Warnings: Yandere Malleus, captivity? (trapped in a dream), forced kissing

Something wasn’t right.

He’d done it. He overblotted. Putting everyone to sleep, leaving them to their dreams. For their own good, to make them happy. That’s what he had said. 

So why was this your dream? What had happened to you?

You remember catching a glimpse of the unconscious forms of your friends, sleeping under the power of his magic. You remember the fear that washed over you as you expected the same fate. And you remember the satisfied grin he wore as he faced you, and then everything went black.

Darkness surrounds you now. You are stranded in a void, an empty black space. No floor beneath your feet, no walls indicating you might be in some strange room. You hesitantly take a few steps forward, and then in another direction. Still nothing. You are walking through some kind of purgatory, left alone with nothing but an endless darkness and eerie silence.

Until you hear footsteps behind you.

You whip around to see him, uncomfortably close to you. Looming over you, with that same smile as before.

“What…what did you do? Where am I?” You question, trying to keep your voice steady.

Malleus’ smile still doesn’t falter as he answers you. “Our home, Child of Man.”

As he speaks, the space around you starts changing. You blink repeatedly as a room starts creating itself from the darkness, walls and furniture forming from the shadows before manifesting as real objects. Everything appears in the same gothic theme you’re familiar with from Diasomnia.

“What do you mean, ‘our home’?”

He tilts his head at you a bit, mirth still palpable in his expression. “I think it’s quite self-explanatory. This is where we will spend the rest of our lives together.” Your head is spinning as you process his words. “Malleus, what are you talking about? I don’t understand, you’re scaring me.”

He frowns immediately at that. He sighs quietly before speaking again. “My apologies, Child of Man. I suppose I’ve yet to explain myself properly to you. Please, fear not. I never would wish you any harm, you should know.”

“Child of Man,” He starts after a deep inhale, “I know this may feel sudden, but I must confess something to you.” He reaches for your hand, and you cautiously allow him to take it. “I…I love you. I care for you so dearly, my Child of Man. You’ve brought life to my life, brought me a kind of joy that I’ve always considered unobtainable for me. I’ve never known someone as kind, brave and sincere as you. I love you, from the bottom of my heart. So much that I don’t know what to do with the feelings you stir in me sometimes.” He grinned softly to himself. “You treat me like no one else does. You seek out my presence yourself, you look at me with fondness in place of fear. You’ve taken over my mind and heart, and I couldn’t do without you anymore.”

“So,” he continues, “I’ve created a place for us, and only us, my love. I’ve put much thought into it, and come to the conclusion that it would be difficult for us to be together in reality. It would be blasphemy for me to attempt to introduce a human as my partner in Briar Valley. As heir to the Draconia lineage and future king, such a thing would never be allowed.” His brow furrowed at the thought. “And on your end, the headmaster is searching for a way to send you back, to separate you from me. There are many obstacles to our love. This is the solution I’ve come up with.” His hand moves to cradle your cheek gently, staring deep into your eyes. It takes great effort for you to not tremble under the weight of his gaze. “There is nothing but us here. No Crowley, no other world to return to, no royal duties or expectations, nothing at all to disturb us. We will hide happily in here forever, where nobody can interfere with us.” You’re shaking now, fear coursing through your veins as you realize the gravity of your situation. You are trapped alone with him, in a space of his creation and control, completely at his mercy. And he’s seemingly decided you won’t be going anywhere.

“M-Malleus, please. I don’t…I don’t want this.” You meekly speak, your voice hardly above a whisper. You’re terrified of rejecting him, but equally afraid of what would happen if you accepted his advance. “I don’t want to be asleep forever. And what about everyone else, my friends-” “Do not speak of them.” His harsh tone cuts you off and makes you flinch. There’s a new darkness to his eyes that makes your legs want to buckle. You avert your eyes from his to avoid it.

“Look at me.” He commands. You don’t comply, too nervous to meet the anger in his expression. He grabs your face roughly and forces you to tilt your head up. “I said, look at me. Do not speak of them again. This place is for us, not them. Your life is meant to be spent with me, not them. Your place in this world is with me, not them. You will not mention them again. I will not allow any others but myself to occupy your thoughts. Do you understand me?”

Tears start welling up in your eyes as you nod slightly, dread heavy in your stomach as the weight of your circumstances only seems to keep increasing.

He stares down at your teary face, eyes wet and lips trembling. He still holds your face in his large hand. His eyes soften the longer he looks at you, and after what seems like an eternity he starts leaning in towards you. You don’t dare to close your eyes, scared of what he’d do if you avoided him again. He gets closer, and you hold back a fearful whimper as his lips softly press against yours. Your stomach turns as he holds the kiss, leaving you anxious and uncomfortable. He pulls back and meets your gaze once more. 

“You’re…ethereal. Perfect, so perfect my love. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I’ve always wanted to claim you as my own.” He kisses you again, with more need and passion than the first. The tail of his overblot form comes to wrap around your waist and pull you into him, pressing your bodies together. His mouth is hot against yours as he kisses you with more and more fervor. His tongue slips past your lips and you let out a small groan despite yourself. He smiles against your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours. His demeanor had lost some of it’s intimidating aura as he looked at you completely lovestruck, strong hands caressing your back as his tail still held you in place.

“I’ll be all that you need, my love. I will be your entire reason for being, your entire purpose, as you are mine.” You shudder a bit in his hold, but if he notices, he pretends he doesn’t.

“This is my creation for us, dear. Our paradise. Doesn’t it make you happy?”

[tkaulitzlvr]

HEYYY sorry if this is kinda long but ur my fav writer so i trust u w writing this 🤞

Could you write smth where tom used to be a player but he started dating the reader and seemed really loyal, but they go to a party together, their first party as a couple and when the reader leaves to go buy drinks she comes back to find tom sitting down with a bunch of girls, it looks like he’s flirting with them. sooo the reader gets really upset and walks all the way home thinking he’s cheating already even after only dating for like a month. tom follows her home, trying to explain himself and he eventually explains that he wasn’t cheating, he was trying to get away from all the girls politely, but was kinda trapped. the reader forgives him and it ends in smut or fluff or whatever u want.

SORRY ITS SO SPECIFIC LMAOOO

WHAT IT SEEMS - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: tom has finally managed to settle down with you, discarding his womanising ways. but, you see something that makes you think otherwise, tom desperate to explain himself to you, certain that you have got the wrong idea.

content: angst + fluff

a/n: love this idea, thank u so much for the request i hope u enjoy !! this is lowk ass tho i’m so sorry😭😭

“we really don’t have to go schatz, i know you don’t like these sorts of places.” tom repeats, standing in the frame of the bathroom door as i apply my make-up in the mirror. “we can stay here instead, i’ll get some snacks from the store, just me and you?”

he tries to reason with me, knowing that i’ve never been a party person. i hated large groups of people, not understanding the buzz that people got from drinking unsafe amounts of alcohol and fucking some random, the idea literally my worst nightmare. i preferred to stay inside and watch a movie, or bake something, finding comfort in familiarity, never described as an extroverted person.

tom however, was the complete opposite. he was a party animal, ending up at a different club every night, with a different girl between the sheets after he left. that is why our relationship was so unexpected, but it seems that tom had changed. he settled down, spending less and less time out at a random bar, instead spending his nights with me, soon realising that the party scene wasn’t something i enjoyed. at first, i was hesitant to believe that he had changed his ways completely, but, a month into our relationship, he has given me no reason to not trust him, this the reason why i am deciding to finally give in and go to just one party, tom having missed out for so long. but he is clearly confused by my change of heart, trying to remind me that he is more than okay with not going, growing to enjoy quiet nights at home.

“tom i’m fine. you haven’t been to a party in forever.” i start, blinking rhythmically as i apply my mascara, before moving backwards away from the mirror and turning to face him. “besides, i can’t stay locked up here forever. i have to live a little.”

he tilts his head, still uncertain despite my clear lack of hesitation. his lips purse together as he walks towards me, resting his hands on my hips. i can tell that he is questioning it, part of him missing the parties that he used to go to. but the new and sensible part of him, the part that is more prominent now, silently reminds himself of how much he has grown to love spending time with me and only me, coming to the conclusion that parties were never as fun as he had sometimes made them out to be, much preferring my company to getting shitfaced in some random club.

“there’s other ways to have fun besides getting wasted all the time. i like that about you. you don’t have to be drunk to have fun.” he says, kissing my forehead softly.

“i want to go.” i state, looking upwards at him, my eyes wide as i attempt to convince him to calm down a little.

“are you sure baby? i don’t want to force you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with. you know i’d hate myself if you got there and didn’t like it. i’d much rather we-”

i cut him off by pressing my lips against his, sealing his over dramatic rambling with a short kiss. “i’ll be fine, okay?” i reassure him, my forehead against his.

he lets out a small smile, sighing heaving before speaking. “fine, get ready. but if you don’t like it, we’re leaving straight away. deal?”

i roll my eyes at his protectiveness, my heart melting at how much he cares. though it is a little frustrating, i can’t be mad at him, nodding my head slowly as a chuckle leaves my lips, my body turning back towards the mirror as i finish applying my make-up, my small crop top and tight skirt already on. tom walks behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, letting his hands rest on my stomach, before resting his head in my neck, planting gentle kisses there as i finish the rest of my makeup, small giggles leaving my mouth when his lips touch a sensitive spot on my neck, or his hands gently squeeze my stomach and his fingers slightly tickle the skin. he smiles behind me, his eyes calm and half-lidded, dreads resting over his shoulders and draping onto mine as he slowly rocks us side to side, continuing to kiss my neck from behind until i am finally finished.

the walk to the club is short, tom’s hand staying clasped in mine as we wander through the darkened streets, few people and the occasional car driving by us. i prefer peaceful nights like this, time to admire the city, rather than being face first in the crowds that daytime brought along with them. tom is speaking about something random, a lazy smile tugging on my lips as i look upwards, not particularly focusing on what he is saying, instead admiring his features - eyes fixed on the way his brown eyes shine, occasional smile gracing his face as he speaks, tongue grazing against his lip piercing. i take in this rare moment, though to some it is simple, to me it is something to be treasured, happy to listen to whatever tom is saying, finding it adorable how he gets so into a conversation when it is about something he cares for.

my cold breath leaves my lips as i exhale, reminding me how bitter the weather is, despite the warmth that the jacket tom had insisted on letting me wear brings me. occasional laughter emits from our mouths, sharing pointless conversation, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s company, our content exchange soon cut off by the sound of overly-loud music, signalling that we have arrived.

the queue to get in is longer than i had expected, tom not phased by this as the bouncer seems to recognise him, flashing him a quick smile and letting the both of us in. it is completely packed, drunken bodies encircling my vision, this enough for me to become easily overwhelmed. tom realises this, bending downwards so that his voice can be heard over the loud music.

“you okay? we can leave if you don’t like it.” he squeezes my hand as he speaks, bringing me into his embrace, his hands now running up and down my arms.

i shake my head, not wanting to leave before i had even given the place a chance. i let out a small ‘i’m fine’ in response, tom nodding his head and leading me through the crowd, looking downwards at me every few seconds, his hand never leaving mine until we emerge, arriving at a smaller section cut off from the rest of the club, being what i assume as the VIP section. the staff there recognise tom like the bouncer had, letting him in as we find a couch and table unoccupied.

he flops onto it, spreading his legs and wrapping his arm around my shoulder as i sit beside him, his other resting on the back of the couch. he scans the area, his lips pursed, head lazily nodding to the beat of the music, fingers tapping against my shoulder.

“you okay?” he shouts over the music, looking over at me and planting a small kiss on my forehead, pulling me closer into his side.

i nod my head, pointing a finger over to the bar. “i think i’m gonna go get a drink. you want one?”

he seems hesitant to let me go, his face falling a little, seemingly surprised at my willingness to walk around alone. the place somehow seems to feel busier, the bar totally packed, scattered with glasses, some empty, some practically full. but i figure that if i want to put myself out there more, i can’t rely on tom to be by my side, wanting to do this small thing alone.

“you sure baby? i can come with you?” he asks, looking upwards and seeing how crowded it has become.

“i’ll be fine. you can see the bar from here anyways, it’s not like anything can happen.” i say, pointing out the direct view our table has to the bar. though it is a little far away, past the small crowd of people forming there, it is in our eye line, tom able to maintain a perfect view of me.

“okay, but i’m watching the whole time. if anything happens i’ll be right over.” he gives in, though i can tell by his tone he is still reluctant. despite this, i stand up, pulling my skirt down a little bit. “and get me a beer please schatz.”

his hand plants a small squeeze on my ass, my body whipping around to scold him, yet my eyes are met with that same infamous smirk, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as i shake my head, a low chuckle escaping my lips. i walk over to the bar, reaching it successfully after pushing through a few wasted bodies. i turn around, squinting my eyes to try and spot tom, seeing that he is still alone, his own eyes searching to meet mine. he spots me, sending me a small smile and wave, his face visibly calming down once i am within his sight.

i turn back around towards the bar, resting my frame against the hard wood. a tall man comes towards me from the other side, nodding for me to order.

“a beer and a piña colada, thanks.” i say, pulling out a twenty dollar bill from my purse and pressing it flat against the table.

he nods, taking the money and starting to prepare the drinks. i awkwardly tap my fingers against the wood as i wait, the music seeming to get louder, leaving me with a pounding headache. my body is warm, unsure of whether it is the proximity of sweaty figures dancing around me, or the sweltering air, everything in the room feeling ten times closer than it would outside.

he places the drinks against the table, shooting me a small smile as i take them, returning the gesture and turning around. my eyes catch a small glimpse of tom from where i am stood, quickly doing a double take as i realise that he is not alone. from a distance, i can spot at least four girls, two at either side of him. he appears pretty content, a large grin from ear to ear as he engages in conversation, the girls way too close for my liking. they are practically up against him, wearing next to nothing, their bodies covered with dresses so skimpy i wouldn’t have bothered wearing anything at all.

he seems completely comfortable, the only difference in how he was sat before being that his hands had moved from either side of the couch, now resting in his lap. i can see him shake his head, that flirty smile never faltering. however i reach my breaking point when one girl leans closer, about to place her hand on his thigh. that’s when i lose it.

i storm towards the table, tom’s attention quickly turning to me as the eyes of the girls sat beside him all turn to me too, curious to see what has been able to divert his attention so easily. his face softens as he seems somewhat glad to see me, this only angering me more. one second, he is entertaining girls because i leave for a minute, then his eyes light up as i return, as if he hadn’t looked at them with that same grin i have seen way too many times before - all before we started dating. my jaw is clenched, eyes cold and harsh as i slam the drinks down onto the table, part of the liquid splashing out of the tall glass from the force.

“there’s your fucking drink, asshole.” i scoff, shaking my head and turning around, starting to find my way through the large crowd in the centre.

i can hear his voice behind me, constantly calling my name as he forces his way through the crowd, only a few steps behind me. i ignore his pleas, feeling like a complete idiot for believing that he had changed.

“get out of my fucking way!” i shout over the music, pushing the last few people out of my way, my eyes finally meeting the exit, leaving it quickly, tom still following me as he continues to be persistent, my name pouring from his lips every few seconds.

the night is even colder than it was when we had arrived, my entire body shivering once i emerge onto the empty street, the distorted blur of music no longer helping to drown out the sound of tom’s voice as it seems to get closer and closer. i continue to shrug him off, speeding up as my heels click across the pavement. my hands run up and down my arms in an attempt to warm myself up, now without the comfort of tom’s jacket to keep my temperature high, my small and tight outfit providing no warmth at all.

however, my fast steps are no longer enough to keep myself distanced from tom as i feel his hand on my shoulder, the strength of its hold causing me to stop in my tracks.

“jesus christ, baby, what the fuck?” he asks, out of breath, his chest heaving up and down as i face him, his eyes heavy and filled with confusion once he processes the hurt etched upon my face.

“don’t fucking touch me!” i scoff, roughly detaching my shoulder from his head, my eyes becoming glassy, both from the harshness of the wind and the reality that tom hadn’t ever changed his ways as i had thought. “just fuck off, you’ve done enough. and i actually thought you were different, how fucking naive can i be?”

i turn around, starting to walk away again. yet he speeds up, jogging and moving to stand in front of me, completely trapping me.

“baby, please it’s not what it looks like.” he pleads, his own expression now filled with desperation as he begs for me to hear him out, my mind set on what it had seen - no explanation able to change that.

“really? so i didn’t see those girls all over you?” i challenge, shaking my head as a sarcastic chuckle leaves my lips, in disbelief of how stupid he is making me out to be.

“you’re blowing this way out of proportion! you’ve got the complete wrong idea schatz.” he says, his own voice raising a little as he becomes frustrated.

“do you know how unbelievable you are? i should’ve known, i was never good enough to make you want to settle down.” the tears cascade down my cheeks, my teeth sinking into my lips as i quickly move around him, walking away once again.

but, he doesn’t accept my desire to leave, taking my hand and pulling me backwards, his eyes glossy with tears, his sudden display of emotion taking me by surprise.

“liebe, please can you just listen to me for a second?” he sighs, his voice wavering as he speaks. i stay silent, the tears pouring down my face, yet he takes my lack of response as a sign to continue. “they came over to me. i told them straight away that i wasn’t interested.”

i furrow my eyebrows, a mixture of guilt and disbelief taking over. one part of me feels terrible for not letting him explain, this whole thing my fault if he is telling the truth. but, the more infuriated side of me doesn’t believe him for a second, refusing to even consider that he brushed them off, tom never being the type to refuse a girl’s company. and it is this anger within me that acts out, cutting his explanation short.

“fucking bullshit. do you think i’m an idiot-”

he cuts me off, continuing to explain. despite my cold tone, he remains calm, taking my hands in his own, his eyes softly looking into mine as he speaks.

“i told them my girlfriend is here, and i’m not interested. they wouldn’t give in. i didn’t want to be rude, you know i’m not like that. but i didn’t let them do anything. didn’t you see how i was sitting? i’ve never had my arms closer to me in my life!”

he lets out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little. but once he sees that i am in no mood to joke around, he shakes his head, straightening his expression before continuing.

“i was literally about to get up to come and find you, but then you came over. i get that it might’ve looked weird from far away, but i promise you.” he trails off, taking one step closer to me, reluctantly reaching upwards to gently graze his thumb across my cheek, applying a little more pressure once i accept his touch. “i promise you that i shut it down straight away. i want you and only you.”

both of his hands cup my face, his thumbs running comfortingly over the soft skin, his eyes scanning mine as he awaits my response, my mind working at a million miles per minute as i try to find the right words. though i am still angry, now more at the girls than him, it is impossible to ignore the sincerity of his words, guilt rising within my stomach as i feel nothing but regret for not trusting him.

“i’m sorry.” i mutter, removing my eyes from his own as i stare at the ground, salty tears rolling down my face more than they had before.

“hey, hey…” he trails off, lifting my chin with his pointer finger, his face falling once he sees my state. he plants a soft kiss to my lips whilst his fingers wipe away the tears resting on my cheeks. i kiss back, his lips soft and warm, enough to calm me down instantly.

he pulls back, resting his arms on my lower waist as his forehead sits against mine.

“you can always trust me. i’d never, ever, cheat on you. i’m sorry for how i used to be, and if i could change it, i promise you that i would, in a heartbeat. i want to be better, for you. you mean more to me than anyone else in this world, and i want to show it. you just have to let me try. okay?”

his lips stay parted as his slightly ragged breathing fans against my face, his warmth contrasting with the harshness of the climate around us.

“okay.” i say, nodding my head. he brings his lips to mine, smiling into the kiss as i gladly reciprocate, feeling his hands bring me closer into him.

“come on, let’s get you home.” he says, pulling away and holding his hand out for me to take. i smile warmly, intertwining my fingers with his as he pulls me closer, kissing my forehead gently. we begin the short walk home, tom stopping after a few seconds. he pulls his jacket off, tugging it along his frame. he takes a sleeve, gently threading my arm through it, repeating his motion with my other arm, until the material completely submerges me, my body warming up almost instantly.

he smiles downwards at me, kissing my cheek quickly, noticing the way a loud yawn escapes my lips after he does so. he bends down, placing one arm behind my neck, the other scooping me upwards by my legs as he carries me bridal style, a surprised gasp leaving my mouth at his actions, however it soon turns into a loud giggle once he begins planting large kisses across my face. he is grinning from ear to ear, his heart warming at the happiness plastered on my face, his hold on me tightening as he places one last kiss to my nose.

his arms remain securely around me as he walks slowly, the rocking motion of his steps causing my eyes to feel heavy, my eyelids beginning to fall shut, on the verge of falling asleep. my breathing slows, close to slipping into unconsciousness, however tom’s low voice prevents me from doing so. he clearly thinks that i have fallen asleep, yet i hear the phrase pour from his lips as clear as day.

“i love you.”

requests are open! keep sending them in, there’s a lot in my inbox atm but i’ll get to it as soon as i can!!

[locallyloathed]

Error Code #1345 (Chapter 1)

Yandere!Ted x Schizoid!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

CW: None yet, but it’s an I Have No Mouth fanfic, so it’s gonna get dark.

Thanksgiving. A time for family and friends to all come together, to celebrate their successes, and to show appreciation for the lives they lead. Even a small gathering can bring people together and forge bonds that last for decades. Having a long weekend to spend relaxing and catching up with loved ones can be considered one of the fondest joys in the heart of any true-blue American.

That being said, I’m one menial conversation away from slamming my head into the kitchen counter. Spending a week in the ICU with a concussion has never seemed more appealing.

Most of the family is used to this. Those who grew up around me and watched me mature firsthand disregard my existence in the kitchen, all having congregated in the living room after the meal had come to a conclusion with no more than ten words spoken in my direction. They had learned by now that it was an exercise in futility to attempt to pull me into the room for a chat. Those a bit more distanced from me in my childhood had put in a good effort, but were disheartened by my apparent lack of interest and had left me to my own devices. One might think they’d remember my social shortcomings after so long, but they always seem to find a new sense of misguided hope by the time November rolls around. The new arrivals, in particular those who hadn’t been pulled aside and given the standard psychology lesson on the way in, were the only constant thorns in my side this time of year. Luckily, it’s limited to one this time around. Unluckily, unfounded perseverance seems to be a virtue of theirs.

“So, anything exciting planned for Christmas this year? Are you spending it with us? Your mom was showing me Christmas photos of the last few years, and her house and tree look so pretty! Do you help her decorate?”

Take the fucking hint already, Jesus Christ. My usual tactics of arriving last to avoid the pre-meal small talk and hiding in the kitchen to avoid the post-meal small talk are proving ineffective against the newcomer. I can’t even recall who exactly brought them. A cousin, I think? Something about them not having anywhere to go this year and not wanting to be alone? God forbid anyone make the decision to not spend all five days off cozying up to a crowd of people. If the prying into your personal life to see if you have a “valid excuse” doesn’t drive you mad, the social repercussions of them deciding you don’t will. I don’t know which is worse: the faux sympathy and invitations to borderline strangers’ Christmas parties, or the guilt trips and patronization from every extrovert in a ten mile radius.

I’m dragged out of my thoughts by a startling snap an inch away from my nose. Jumping, I pull my gaze away from the glass of wine I’ve been nursing for the last half hour to see this stranger staring me dead in the eye, as though expecting something from me. The two of us spend more than a few uncomfortable seconds having an impromptu staring contest. Upon realizing that she had no intention of breaking the silence, I raise my eyebrows, waving a hand to prompt her to say what she has to say.

The woman huffs. “Guess that’s a no.” When I don’t respond, awaiting elaboration, she crosses her arms and looks away toward the rest of the party as if pouting. “I asked if you were even listening. And clearly, you weren’t.”

Moving my own gaze back to the glass of wine, I mutter, “Not really, no.”

She looks back at me, a startled sound not unlike a laugh escaping her. “And what, you aren’t even gonna apologize?”

I move to take another sip of alcohol, preparing myself for the conversation I can already see coming. Licking my lips, I give a slight shrug. “Eh, wasn’t planning on it, no.” At her offended reaction, I continue, “If I wanted to chat, I’d be in there,” I move my glass in a vague gesture toward the living room. “With the others. If you want to chat, you should be in there, too.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to cheer you up,” she says, straightening up. “You spent the whole meal staring at your plate, and I thought you’d like some company.”

“Again.” A more pointed gesture to the other room, where a small wave of laughter compels me to wait a moment before proceeding. “Chatroom’s in there. I’m just waiting on a ride.” To emphasize this, I pull out my phone and hold it up to show her the confirmation from Uber that a car was on its way. I unlock the phone, begin to scroll mindlessly through a random app and take another sip of wine.

Unimpressed, the woman prods, “Why’d you even come if you were gonna be such a downer?”

“Free meal, free alcohol.”

“Unbelievable.” She scoffs. “Is that really all your family is to you?”

Heaving a hefty sigh, I shut my phone back off, shove it back into my pocket, and rub my face. I can feel the frustration in me approaching its boiling point, wishing more than anything for a moment’s peace. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to explain myself to someone I doubt I’ll even see again. Just leave me alone already.”

“No, enlighten me,” she presses, reaching to grab the wrist of my free hand. Sensing the movement, I jerk away, nearly spilling my drink. Her hand stops in its tracks, but the irritation on her face remains. “What’s your problem?”

“Right now, it’s you.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, it’s the truth.”

“God, your cousin was right. You’re so fucking rude.”

“I’m rude?” Setting the glass on the counter, I meet her stare, incredulous. “You show up to my family’s party, play pretend that you’ve been friends with us for years, pester the one person in the party that doesn’t want to play along, and somehow, I’m the rude one?”

The woman appears taken aback, stunned into a temporary silence. Just as she begins to regain composure, a new voice enters the tense atmosphere. “What’s going on in here?” My cousin’s head pokes around the corner, eyes narrowing as she zeroes in on me. “What did you do?”

I roll my eyes with a silent huff. “I didn’t do shit. She just refused to take a hint.”

Disregarding my answer, she looks from me to the woman, she asks, “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” she blurts out, pointing at me in accusation. “I was just trying to be nice and they started yelling at me!”

My cousin turns her gaze back to me, glaring daggers, as if daring me to respond. I meet the cold stare with a face of stone. She pipes up, addressing her friend without looking at her, “Did they now?”

A chime rings out from my back pocket. I give it my full attention, turning on the screen to see an announcement that my Uber driver was out front. I let out a small hum, reaching for the forsaken glass of wine on the counter and taking a big swig before dumping the remainder of the lukewarm liquor down the kitchen sink. As I look up, I see the two women continuing to stare at me. I point a thumb in the direction of the front door. “My ride’s here.”

Shaking her head, my cousin fully enters the kitchen, wrapping an arm around the stranger and herding her away to the living room with the rest of the family. I wait a moment before following them, veering hard to the side to walk straight for the door. If anyone notices me leaving, they don’t say anything. I dig around in the closet for my jacket, tug on my boots, and grab the door handle before sparing one last glance at my family. Only one is looking my direction; my mother, her face nigh unreadable. Was it disappointment that shown in her eyes? Irritation? Resignation? Maybe even shame? Whatever it was, it makes my heart sink into my stomach. Wrenching my eyes away, I pull open the door and step into the cold.

Frost nips at my nose from the moment I leave the warmth of the house, leaving me to huff out a breath to keep from sneezing. The rather unseasonal snow drifting down is thick enough that I have to squint through it to see the telltale cloud of exhaust from my idling driver. Shoving my hands into my pockets, I awkwardly make my way through the piling snow built up along the pavement, careful not to misstep and tumble into the icy yard. I strongly doubt the Uber driver would be too keen on letting me into their car while I’m soaking wet, and I have NO intentions of going back into that house.

Upon my approach, the passenger side window rolls down, revealing a man who appears to be in his 50’s, maybe even 60’s. He hollers out my name, and I give a curt nod in response before doublechecking his own. With a smile, he reaches over to his door and I can hear the lock click open. I open the rear door, shivering, sitting down sideways to shake the snow off my boots before sliding in the rest of the way and shutting the door behind me.

“Lotta cars parked out here!” His voice is gravelly, and from the smell of cigarette smoke that seems to cling to the air, I can hazard a guess as to why. “Must’ve been a hell of a party!” I glance up after buckling my seatbelt to see him looking at me through the rear view mirror. Just when I thought I might get some quiet time…

“Something like that,” I say, leaning back against the headrest. I begin to sort through my mental list of excuses to get strangers to leave me alone. I hated every second? Raises way too many invasive questions with no “right” answers. It was actually a funeral? High risk of pity, and I don’t have the energy to keep that lie going if he presses me. Deciding nothing beats the classics, I close my eyes and say in my bleariest tone, “Gave me a hell of a headache to match.”

I hear him give a sympathetic hum and put the car in drive, feeling the car strain momentarily against the piling snow before shifting forward onto the road. “That’s a shame. I won’t bother you none, then. You just get you some rest.”

Thank god.

I turn my head toward the window, cracking my eyes to watch the buildings roll past. Most of the windows are dark, and the driveways barren, only for one to appear fully lit up with a caravan parked in the front yard. I muse over the emotions in each packed home as they go by. If I try, I can see it in my head; moms and their sisters gossiping as they clean up the dinner table, older cousins trying to scare the younger ones before getting smacked in the head by a grandparent, uncles all sitting in the living room laughing up a storm at some half-baked comedy show on tv, moody teenagers hiding away in some corner to avoid the others.

Huh. I was one of those teenagers once. A lot of my cousins were too. So why did it only stick to me? The houses become less focused as I retreat further into my head. I know the clinical reasons, of course. Emotional neglect, abandonment issues, unlucky lot in the genetic lottery, all the good stuff. But it feels… unfair. I don’t want to be like them. I like my life. I like having my routines, and my privacy, and my own little fortress of solitude. But, then there are times like now, when the introspection that usually keeps me entertained makes me face a fact I try to avoid: I... want to want to be like them.

The little voice in the back of my mind that I’ve gotten good at snuffing out rears its head, trying to make me want to try and socialize, make me want to be all smiles and laughs in the living room with my family. It always re-emerges this time of year; just something in the air, I suppose. I tried to satiate it when I was younger, but it always felt like I was just playing a part to appease the people around me, and the overall experience just left me more bitter than ever. The voice shut up for a good long while, but when the time comes to stand amidst sparkling lights and the chill of the first snow, it crawls out of hibernation, begging, pleading for something more than an empty home and a solitary existence.

But, like always, I beat it back with rationale until it finally concedes, slinking it back into the recesses of my mind. I’m like this for a reason. People are fickle at best and plain exhausting at worst, and the less of them I have in my life, the better for everyone. Is it lonely? Sure. Humans are social creatures, and my nature runs counter to all the programming my DNA has. The hand I’ve been dealt sucks, but it’s what I have, and I’m gonna play it.

I mull over these thoughts for the duration of my ride, the blurry, meaningless silhouettes along the road pulling me deeper into my thoughts before forcing me back out as the car pulls to an abrupt stop. As I blink the haze from my vision, I make out the outline of my home, which appears almost foreign in the bleak lighting and heavy snowfall. The driver turns to me and says something that I don’t quite catch, dragging me all the way back to consciousness. Sitting up and stretching, I ask, “Sorry, what was that?”

The old man grins. “That good a nap, huh?” A soft, wheezing laugh forces itself through his throat, dying out as he notices my lack of response. “Just checkin’ that this is the place. Look right to you?”

With a curt nod, I unbuckle my seatbelt and double check my pockets. Phone, check. Earbuds, check. Bag of sweets discretely swiped from the party, check. Assured that it’s all there, I move to open the door, the cold wind forcing its way into the space. The shudder that makes its way up my stiff spine feels almost painful, garnering a brief wince of discomfort.

A spared glance at the rear view mirror reveals the man’s face, twisted into a look of concern. “You sure you’re alright there? Awful weather, and between you and me…” He turns in his seat to face me proper, leaning in as if to tell me a secret. Against better judgement, I lean in as well as he murmurs, “I’m gettin’ a real bad feeling something awful’s brewin’. Feel it in my bones.”

Sunken eyes bore deep into my own, and his wrinkled face reveals no trace of jest. Instead, as I sit in the cold, I find myself meeting a gaze of trepidation and pure, animalistic fear. Another shiver, not from the atmosphere outside the car, but from the one within it. Forcing myself to look down, I’m careful to keep the anxiety out of my voice. “I appreciate the concern, sir, but I can handle myself.”

He doesn’t look convinced. But, the icy wind seems to have finally reached him, snapping him out of his reverie. The stranger nods, straightening up in his seat. “Reckon you can. Yes, I reckon you can. Even so, you just be careful, you hear?” Eager to get into my warm home and out of this bizarre conversation, I give a hum of acknowledgment before fully sliding out of the car. I can almost feel the man taking a breath to continue, and I hasten to slam the door behind me and make for the front door. As I unlock it, the car’s headlights leave my peripheral, followed by the grumbling sounds of the engine. Finally, some peace and quiet.

Trudging my way through the entry way, I kick off my boots, take off my coat, and toss both haphazardly into the front closet. I shut the door and lean my forehead onto the cold wood, feeling as if my head were made of lead. Just as I think I may fall asleep standing up, the soft patter of footsteps and a deep chirp bring a tired smile to my face. On cue, a large black cat trots into the foyer, and I watch in bemusement as his furry, upside-down face pops out between my feet, staring up at me and giving a louder, more demanding chirp.

With an exaggerated sigh, I lift up the hefty animal, holding him close to my chest as he begins to rumble in approval. “Hey, bud,” I murmur, rubbing his side as I take a moment to appreciate the serenity. The cat wriggles in my arms to look me in the eye, and as I blink lazily at him, he melts further into my hold. I give him a soft squeeze, and receive a slight indignant chirp in response. I chuckle as I stroll into the kitchen, confirming that his food bowl is nearing empty. “Always just want something from me, don’t you?”

Thoroughly unamused by my deadpan accusation, the cat struggles in my arms. I release him, letting him thump to the floor and watching him patter over to the food cabinet, working in futility to open it despite his lack of thumbs. I move him to the side with my foot to grab the bag and nearly trip into him as I begin to scoop the pellets into the feeder. Going through the familiar process of filling up his bowl lulls me further into sleepiness. I entertain the notion of showering, washing my face, curling up in bed, but every step of my usual process feels daunting when weighed against my exhaustion. Deciding to do none of that, I instead stop to run my hand down my cat’s back as he chomps away, relishing in the soft purrs he emits. “Good boy.” I know he can’t understand me, but I like to think he knows what I mean.

As my mind continues to unwind, the old man’s strange warning staggers into my brain, and I feel my stomach twist slightly. He was just messing with me, right? Just a weird old guy that gets a kick out of telling spooky stories to strangers to freak ‘em out. Creeps like that are a dime a dozen around here, and getting all anxious over their words is just giving them what they want. No matter how much I reassure myself, every blink conjures an imagine of the fear in his eyes, leaving me with an empty sense of dread deep in my soul.

The feeling of something bumping onto my knee pulls me back. The cat appears to have finished eating and has now taken to rubbing against me, nearly knocking me over in my unbalanced crouch. A huff of a laugh escapes me as I give him a good scratch behind the ears. Pushing myself off the ground, I stumble into my living room, flopping down onto the couch. I barely have time to flip onto my back before a solid weight lays itself across my stomach. I debate moving him to change into something more comfortable than jeans and a thick winter shirt, but the soothing rumbles against my body shut down that train of thought quickly. My eyes, already tired from the evening’s events, drift closed without a fuss.

I don’t know how long I spent unconscious, whether it was a few minutes or several hours, but I do know the pain of a fifteen pound cat launching itself off my stomach startled me back into the real world. Claws graze the flesh of my stomach as I hear the solid slam of him hitting the floor and scurrying towards the kitchen. Bolting upright, I squint in the darkness, trying to locate the shadow that almost managed to scratch me through my shirt.

I catch a glimpse of bright green eyes, wide and unblinking, darting around the room as though to catch a glimpse of an unseen predator. This is an animal that has gotten into fights with dogs ten times his size and launches himself onto the kitchen cabinets with nary a thought, and he’s never once looked as small and vulnerable as he does in this moment. Concern courses deep in my body, and I drag myself off the couch to approach him. Crouching down to his level a few feet away, I begin to coo in a sleepy tone. “Buddy? You alright?” As my eyes adjust, I can make out his rough shape, his long fur sticking straight out, making his already considerable silhouette even bigger. When he doesn’t come any closer, or even seem to acknowledge me, concern begins to curdle into dread. “What’s wrong, bud? What hap-“

The earth shudders and groans deep beneath my feet, knocking me off balance and sending me crashing to the hardwood floor and sending the cat into another fit of hysterics. I regain my wits, scrambling to my feet and stumbling to the kitchen window to scour the dark world outside for a hint as to what just happened. Car alarms blare in surround sound, and I see several lights turn on in windows adjacent, but nothing appears to have caused such a sudden disturbance. I can feel the ground begin to rumble again, less powerful, but unstopping. I rush to my front door, hands tripping over each other as I rip open the closet to pull on my coat and fumble with my boots before stepping out into the pandemonium.

The alarms are louder now, filling the world with a piercing shriek as if the air itself were a wounded animal begging for release. I watch from the porch as neighbors stumble out into the deep snow, some with sobbing children clutched in their arms, others wielding guns as if they planned on shooting the freak earthquake to death. At least, I think it’s an earthquake. What else could it be?

At that moment, with a blinding flash of light, I watch in frozen horror as an explosion emerges in the distance. An invisible wave is sent hurtling towards my neighborhood, and I barely have time to brace myself against the doorframe as it washes over me. My very existence is shaken, my ears left ringing, but I can hardly complain as I watch those around me drop to the ground in an instant. I barely have time to process whether they’re even still alive before my eyes are drawn to that distant light once more, and the ache of sheer, existential terror that crashes over me is second to none.

The undeniable, expanding silhouette of a mushroom cloud forces itself deep into my soul.

Unable to look away, I watch the nightmarish blemish on the night loom closer and closer to my home. The rumbling is deeper now, as though taunting me. In what I imagine are my final moments, I throw a mindless prayer into the void: someone - an angel, a god, a demon, I don’t care - please, someone, anyone, help me!

For a silent, terrible second, the world goes still. I feel the ground beneath my feet tremble, and then I don’t feel it at all. The terrors I bear witness to fall away. Or, rather, I fall away. Air whizzes past my face at such an immense speed it hurts my eyes. The light, much further above me that it should have ever been, illuminates my environment, if only for a second. It’s not rocks or dirt that line the inexplicable chute I find myself in.

It’s metal. Rusted, corroded, warped metal. And there’s no end in sight.

As instantaneous as it arrived, the light is snuffed out as I register the slam of said metal crashing together above my head. I guess that’s one problem solved, but I struggle to celebrate my newfound “safety” as I continue to hurdle down into the depths of the earth. The only things racing faster that the wind in my ears are the questions in my brain.

What happened up there?

Who saved me?

Where am I going?

Why do I feel like I’m the unlucky one?

The rapid fire questions, the sudden disturbance of my sleep, and the sheer shock of it all makes me dizzy. As I feel myself lose consciousness, I get the feeling something awful is brewing.

I can feel it in my bones.

Next

[grimm-rider]

Entry 31

I informed the others about the message I’d received from A’pul’la. We decided, given how spent we were from today’s events, it would be wise to spend some time in the Möbius Chamber. Considering the time difference in the room, Aenland asked me how many uses of Miracle I could use daily—my answer was apparently enough for him, as he decided to go buy some diamonds to expend as spell components, and then asked me to use my power to enhance his abilities. Nestian spent most of his time in the room reading one of those magical tomes we’d picked up to enhance his own abilities, but when he overheard Aenland’s plan he got in on it as well, asking me to help enhance his endurance. So I had my hands full the entire time we were resting. Which was probably for the best—less time to dwell on things with Keisuke, or on what might happen soon, meeting with some mythic powered Pharasman.

Edeya vanished for a few days by our perspective—she’d just popped out for a few minutes to buy something from her point of view. When she came back I gave myself a reprieve from casting for a bit to chat with her. She noted that I looked pensive, so I asked her—given how much thought she’d clearly put into it in recent months—what her thoughts on redemption were. It’s not something I’d ever put much thought into. I don’t normally care for that sort of thing—everyone makes their own choices in the end, for good or for ill. But one thing I’ve come to realize recently is that those choices aren’t made in a vacuum. The people around you—or lack thereof—affect the choices you’ll make. Change the circumstances, and you might completely change the outcome for the same person.

At least…that seems to be how it worked out for me.

Anyways. I asked Edeya for her thoughts on redemption. On what conclusions she’d come to. And, most importantly, whether she thought someone with no memories of what they’d done could actually redeem themselves. For the first part, Edeya said that redemption was hard—especially now—but not impossible. The person just had to sincerely want it and take action towards being better. As for the second part…she said I would know better than she would. She told me the reason I felt so uncomfortable thinking about this is because I was stepping into a philosophical debate, and at the heart of it was: are you the same person if you come back with no memory of your previous self? I told her that I’d always considered myself to be the same person, memories or no. The Grimm Rider is just the choices I made in different circumstances—that’s still me, still someone I was entirely capable of being.

But I think Edeya hit closer to the target than I let on. When I write about my past self, I talk about the Grimm Rider like another person, even though that’s still all me. When I think about the Grimm Rider I can’t help but think of ‘him’ instead of ‘me’. The Grimm Rider is like a story to me, distant, barely real. But that was me, even if I don’t remember it, I did all the things the Grimm Rider did. I would be entirely capable of being him, and had things gone differently I could have been that same person all over again.

I told Edeya that I am simply me, regardless of the circumstances that might change what that means, and I do believe that. She said I had my answer, then. I suppose I do. If I believe that of myself, then that would logically carry to Keisuke as well if I went through with this.

I’m finding fewer and fewer excuses not to go through with this. Part of me desperately wants to find a reason this is the wrong choice. Because then I wouldn’t have to give up the goals I’ve been reaching for from practically the very beginning. Mythic power, immortality. Safety from Pharasma’s grasp. Especially looking that in the face right now, knowing we’re about to be working with a Pharasman who could probably smite me with a thought…my every instinct screams to save myself, Keisuke be damned. And in my position, that’s certainly what he would do. I doubt it would even be a question.

I guess Nestian’s not entirely wrong about our differences.

I’m going to keep just going around in circles if I keep writing about it. I at least have a few more days to consider my options. Maybe more if we keep using Jadrenka’s nifty little time chamber.

Eventually we had to leave the chamber and return to our mission—only a few hours after we’d entered rather than days later. We made a beeline for the royal cemetery, with no Winter Witches or fungal monstrosities stopping us on the way. We should probably do something about Xanthadon sooner rather than later, with that rot encroaching on the city the way it is.

Not today, though.

We made it to the cemetery, where we saw a number of wraiths milling about, and two necromancers guarding the entrance to a grand mausoleum. They looked like chumps, as far as necromancers go, despite their ghostly apparitions.

We were prepared to strike—but someone else got there first. A dark streak fell from the sky like a bolt of dark lightning, landing before one of the wraiths. A scythe glinted in the dim light that shone through the clouds blanketing the sky. But the figure did not bring the blade down on the wraith. A second—much larger—streak fell from the sky, shaking the earth as it landed behind him. As the dust cleared, an enormous skeletal creature towered over the figure. It reached down, striking at the man—who I could now make out was a dusky purple tiefling with raven-like wings—but he barely flinched at the giant claws raking at him. Instead, he leapt into the air, using those wings that were clearly not just for decoration to fly straight up as he dragged the scythe along the creature’s midsection. He flipped in mid-air, then came hurtling back to the ground, before flaring his wings and landing safely.

Showoff.

The hulking creature’s bones crumbled in on themselves from the single slice, as effectively as if I’d used three Boneshatters on it at once.

In the back of my mind, I knew what this thing was, from some reading or encounter I’d had in my past. A tzittzimitl—an unimaginably powerful undead that can change positive energy to negative, shoot powerful eyebeams, and cause freezing eclipses. And this man had destroyed it with a single swing of his scythe.

I was getting another look at what Mythic Power was capable of.

There wasn’t time to gawk, though. Those other necromancers might have been c list at best, but they still had a bunch of wraiths surrounding us, and we had to deal with those to even get close to the crypt.

Even without some sort of mythic psychopomp-tiefling, we would have cleaned up the necromancers and their little spirits in no time. Really, is this the best Elvanna has in terms of necromantic power? Apparently I was the only actual talented magic user she had working for her, and with the Grimm Rider gone she has nothing but these bottom of the barrel flunkies.

Not that I’m complaining, of course. I’d just think the queen of a country could get some better help. Then again, we’ve probably killed most of her ‘better help’, and the rest probably don’t want to work for her because she’s a crazy bitch who’s trying to freeze the world.

All this is to say, we had no issues clearing out the necromancers and their pets. I definitely did not let on that I was, myself, a necromancer in front of the mythic demi-psychopomp who apparently works directly for Atropos. That’s in the strictly ‘need to know’ category, and for once my dear friends did not spill a secret within moments of meeting someone new—as much as I could tell Aenland desperately wanted to.

At the door of the crypt, Nestian resisted the urge to immediately knock at a closed door—only for this bird-man, who’d introduced himself as Corvus, to knock instead.

There was no response, and when Nestian and Corvus pushed the door of the mausoleum open we found the room beyond completely devoid of life. Which, I mean, it’s a crypt so I suppose that should be what one would expect to find. But given our luck usually there’s a monster crawling about, or a Winter Witch ambush, or something.

The others spotted a trap within an alcove with a door beyond it. Aenland shot an arrow into it, using his dispelling power to negate whatever magic was on it. Unfortunately, this seemed to set off some kind of alarm, because we immediately started hearing sounds coming from down below.

Then some woman dressed in strange clothes appeared, using what appeared to be Interplanetary Teleport—except whatever she had just done, it didn’t use magic. Only some sort of technology way beyond the scope of my knowledge.

The woman activated some sort of barrier around Corvus, then she disappeared with her mythic prisoner in tow.

So that was great. We come here to help stop a thing because a plant told us to, and some mythic asshole gets captured by an alien.

Sorry if I don’t sound like I was excited to go save a psychopomp-in-training from certain doom.

We ended up having to fight our way through a handful more enemies who ran up through the door that had been warded—but Talsune had been ready to strike anyone who entered, and between him and Aenland we made quick work of them.

We determined that we should head further into the catacombs. Even if the mythic psychopomp weren’t being held below, the enemies had clearly come up from there. And we still needed to stop the resurrection of a Crone Queen, with or without feather-boy’s help.

Down below we killed a skeletal dragon, then found ourselves in a chamber with a strange machine that was being tended to by more of those half-baked necromancers. And as luck would have it, the would-be psychopomp was hooked into the machine, being used as a power source or something.

We started killing the necromancers—and a ghost ship that had been placed within the underground reservoir of water around the catacombs. Well, I say water. Where the ghost ship touched, the water around it turned into blood. Honestly, pretty cool. If I had a place to keep a giant ship in Grimm Labyrinthus I’d have considered adding it to my collection. But as it was, it would just be a waste of my powers that could go towards more useful pets.

We’d fought through most of the necromancers when there was a horrible sound. It was like the machine was screaming. And then some big construct that had been wired to the machine stood, and the face of a Crone Queen appeared on the screen where its face should be. Not one we’d faced. This was Yelizaveta, who from what I gather had been destroyed some twenty years ago in the Veil of Frozen Tears, the same day Ilivorr had died.

She began attacking us, with a mix of her old Crone Queen magic and her new monstrous metal body.

And about that time, feathers decided to quit napping on the job and broke out of the machine. Not like we needed his help, we pretty much took care of the metal crone queen on our own.

After her destruction, some unusual letters came out of her, and vanished into a hole in the sky. I have…literally no idea what that could be.

Anyways, we parted ways with bird boy without any psychopomp related attempts to kill me, so that’s nice I guess.

Before resting, we decided to go to Baba Yaga and find out what we could about the strange hole in the sky we’d seen.

Baba Yaga was not willing to share that particular secret, but she said she was a fair Kindly Grandmother, so she would answer one other question, no matter what, without any subterfuge.

So we asked her about Tashanna. The queen who is absent, the only one we hadn’t faced as a Crone Queen.

Baba Yaga was extremely displeased that what we’d decided to ask was one of her greatest secrets. But a deal was a deal, and she wasn’t going to back out. So she told us the truth. The truth about Tashanna, and about irrisen as a whole.

Baba Yaga created Irrisen as an experiment. After seeing how things were where she was from, Earth, Russia, she wanted to create an experiment to see what it would take to cause a great rebellion that could topple a cruel and controlling empire. So she carved out a place for herself, killing and banishing the Mammoth Lords and anyone else to stood against her. And then she put her first daughter on the throne, and every hundred years she put a new daughter in the previous one’s place. And they were all icy and harsh rulers, all the better for Baba Yaga’s experiment.

But then there was Tashanna.

All of her other daughters had come quietly when their century of rule was over. They were either too afraid to stand up to her, or too ignorant to realize what Baba Yaga was doing to each queen who vanished into the Hut, never to be seen again.

Tashanna saw what her fate would be, and chose to defy it. She made a deal with a Demon Lord, and had an army of demons and frost giants to back her.

Her rebellion failed. Her entire branch of the bloodline was mercilessly killed by Baba Yaga in the Vale of Frozen Tears. Every follower she had—gone. But Tashanna did not share their fate. No, because Baba Yaga was impressed by what she had done. She had come the closest to making Baba Yaga’s experiment a success. And for that, she was not drained of her life like her sisters. She was left on an alien planet far from Golarian, to live out her life so long as she never returned.

So…that’s that. Irrisen has been nothing but a long game played by an immortal trickster.

I wasn’t terribly surprised myself. Not that I suspected something like this, but simply that it fit Baba Yaga to do so.

Aenland was pissed to learn about it. We talked. He wanted to remove Baba Yaga from power, and put Anastasia on the throne like we did. But he was afraid that if Baba Yaga was allowed to have any influence, she would simply twist Anastasia’s rule and keep her experiment running. But he also did not want to banish her from Irrisen or Golarian, just to have her subjugate some other people on some other world.

I normally wouldn’t care what happens to some other planet we’re never going to even be aware of. But Aenland cares. So I want to find a solution. I suggested he think over using his wish to somehow force Baba Yaga to leave forever, while also keeping her from using her powers to hurt others. I…don’t actually know the best wording for this wish, to make sure things go the way Aenland wants. I don’t think Baba Yaga is going to screw us over with our wishes, but I also could see this getting on her bad side. Still, it’s something for him to consider, especially since he doesn’t believe he needs a weapon from Baba Yaga anymore, and he doesn’t trust her to give him anything else he wants without twisting things.

Anyways, that’s a worry for another day.

We’re resting in the Mobius Chamber now. After, I think Aenland is finally ready for us to go deal with Xanthadon.

[pemberlyy]

THIS JUST IN:

I AM A TOTAL FUCKING DUMBASS

AND I'VE COME TO THE UNCOMFORTABLE CONCLUSION I’M GONNA BE SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE IN A CONSTANT STATE OF PARANOIA JUST LET ME FOLLOW YOU AND I’LL PROCEED TO BANG MY HEAD ON EVERY DOORWAY AND DOORFRAME YOU SEE SUITABLE FOR US TO GO THROUGH AND I’VE FOUND THAT THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS IS PAVED WITH ROWS AND ROWS OF VERY TEMPTING PARKING SPACES IM NOT PARINOID IM A REALIST I KNOW YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME

[fadeawaywithyou]

This just in: I am a total fucking dumbass And I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion I’ll be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia Just let me follow you And I’ll proceed to bang my head on every doorway and doorframe you see suitable for us to go through And I’ve found that the road to happiness is paved With rows and rows of very tempting parking spaces I’m not paranoid, I’m a realist I know you’re gonna kill me! -Lovejoy "Call Me What You Like"

[soul-of-the-sanada]

Memories of Christmas - Clavis LeLouch - Chapter 2

Clavis’s Christmas event story, in his POV

Chapter 2 Part 1

—

I managed to lasso Yves when he attempted to run away, then physically dragged him into a carriage with me.

We came to a stop outside of a small cafe, the sweet scent of exquisite tea drifting through the air.

Yves: …What part of this is hilarious? It’s just a normal cafe.

Evidently, he’d been expecting me to take him to some bizarre establishment.

The moment he realized it was no different to any other cafe in town, he let out a tense breath.

Clavis: Oh? Perhaps I should’ve taken you to the usual place I frequent, then. It’s not too late for us to turn back and—

Yves: No, thank you! I’d much rather go here!

Clavis: Alright. It’s a shame that I can’t introduce you to my favorite spot, but it’s no matter. There’s always next time.

Yves: I pray there won’t BE a next time. And, besides…

He glanced between myself and the afternoon tea on the table in front of us.

Clavis: What was that? Did I just hear you say, ‘Clavis, you’re my faaaavorite big brother!’?

Yves: What? No! I was just thinking you must really want my advice if you’re treating me to something this nice…

Yves: It feels really strange.

(He’s right, if I’m not mistaken, this is the first time I’ve ever asked his advice on anything.)

Yves: So… What did you want to ask me?

He sat up straight, poised to listen.

Clavis: It’ll be Christmas soon, and I’m planning to spend the day with MC. However…

Clavis: There are so many things I want to get her, I can’t decide on a good present.

Yves: …Ugh.

Clavis: But I can’t decide, that must mean none of my ideas are good enough that they stand out from the rest.

Clavis: Therefore, I thought I should consider the current trends. I want to know what sort of clothes and snacks are popular right now.

Clavis: That’s why I thought I should ask your opinion, Yves. You’re particularly conscious of such things, are you not?

For some reason, Yves blinked at me with wide eyes.

He remained silent for a few moments in contemplation.

Chapter 2 Part 2

—

After arranging his thoughts and taking a long sip of tea, he began to talk.

Yves: To be quite honest with you, I can still hardly believe you and MC are lovers.

Yves: I can’t deny that I was worried whether you were simply manipulating her, or even threatening her to be on your side.

(Even after seeing how well we get along…?)

Although, looking back on my past, it was easy to see how Yves had arrived at the conclusion.

(He’s always been concerned about MC getting caught up in my schemes one way or another.)

Yves: But hearing what you just said, I can safely say I was mistaken.

Yves: It sounds like you really cherish MC. That takes a lot off my mind.

I couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable under his gaze. For once, they were bright with sincerity rather than clouded with distrust.

I plastered my usual smile on my face to conceal the tension within me.

Clavis: Of course. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat the woman I love well?

Clavis: Anyway–now that your suspicions have been eased, would you help me with my dilemma?

Yves: Sure.

Yves gave a firm nod before immediately launching into an enthusiastic spiel about what was popular this Christmas.

Seeing him talk so animatedly and eloquently about his interests could have brought a tear to my eye.

(He truly smiles so much more than he used to.)

Yves: Oh, and rose-scented candles are all the rage right now. It’s surprising how much a single one can make the mood all that more romantic.

Yves: As for dessert… I’ve heard that quite a few cafes are serving sweet bread decorated with Christmas-themed toppings.

Clavis: Ooh. All of those would make perfect presents.

I stroked my chin between my thumb and forefinger, rearranging the list of possibilities in my mind.

(Wonderful. I think I’ve made my decision.)

Clavis: I knew coming to you was the right thing to do.

Clavis: I’d best strike while the iron’s hot. I’ll go buy the ingredients right after we finish up here.

Yves: The… ingredients?

Chapter 2 Part 3

—

Clavis: I knew coming to you was the right thing to do.

Clavis: I’d best strike while the iron’s hot. I’ll go buy the ingredients right after we finish up here.

Yves: The… ingredients?

Clavis: Surely a handmade gift will better express my love, no?

His eyes followed me with an unsure gaze as I stood from my seat.

Yves: …You’re not going to make her a cake, are you? I suggest you rethink that idea.

‘For Christmas–at the very least–you should get her something that actually tastes good.’

That was the reasoning I could sense behind Yve’s stern warning.

Clavis: Don’t you worry. I’ll make her the most wonderful, Christmassy, love-filled cake she’s ever eaten.

Clavis: Anyhow, you’ve been a huge help. I’m oh-so grateful that you gave me your opinion with such grace.

Yves: Um… I mean, sure. I’m… glad I could help?

Clavis: Yes–and you’ve got a lot to look forward to as well.

Yves: I do…?

Clavis: It may be important to spend Christmas with a lover, but making sure my little brothers have a wonderful Christmas is just as important to me.

Yves’s face paled once he figured out what I was hinting at.

Yves: D-Don’t tell me…

Clavis: I’ll fill your present with love and joy, too. You’re going to be delighted.

After parting with Yves, I visited a variety of stores to gather the ingredients to make the presents. Eventually, I had everything I needed.

I intended to go straight back to the palace, but…

Chapter 2 Part 4

—

(I seem to remember she said she was working at the bookstore today.)

Clavis: I can suppose I can take a small detour.

I left my baskets in the carriage, and made my way over to the bookstore. It was strange to see it so busy; several family units were there together.

(The storytelling sessions must be going down well.)

MC: I’ll be making a start now, so everyone find somewhere to sit!

Children: Okay!

The children replied enthusiastically before filing into the rows of chairs. They were surprisingly well-mannered.

It would probably put pressure on MC if she noticed me there, so I backed into a well-concealed corner and crouched down.

(This is a great hiding spot. What’s more, I can see her face perfectly from here.)

MC stood in front of the children and held a picture book up. It looked like she was about to start.

She opened the book on the first page outwards so everyone could see the picture, then began to speak.

MC: Once upon a time, there was a prince who was forever surrounded by roses.

MC: People never saw the prince without a smile on his face, and he always knew how to make his subjects happy.

MC: Then, one day, a lone woman arrived in his joyous country.

I watched on in silence.

It was impossible to quell the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach as her expression changed with each line of the story.

It felt like her voice was enveloping my entire body.

(It may have been a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I’m really glad I came.)

Everyone in the store was concentrating on MC’s voice. Just this once, I allowed myself to let a genuine smile rise to my lips.

Chapter 2 Part 5 

–

Child: You should read us some more books, miss!

Child: I wanna hear one with lots of animals in it!

Once she finished reading the first picture book, MC was immediately inundated with requests to read another. Her popularity was astounding.

MC: Well… Alright, then. Just one more.

Child: Yaaay! Thank you!

(Should I stay to hear the next one, too…?)

Child: Hey, guess what? MC said she’s gonna spend Christmas with her lover!

(Oh?)

My ears perked up.

When I looked for the source of the voice, I saw two small girls sitting close together, seemingly sharing secrets with each other.

I leaned forward slightly and strained my ears.

Child: Wait, really?! I didn’t know that!

Child: She told me the other day!

Child: She was all smiley and stuff, so I kept smiling, too!

Child: Hehe. I bet she’s looking forward to it.

I pursed my lips, suppressing a grin.

(I wish I could’ve seen that.)

I nonchalantly covered my mouth with my hand.

As an intense feeling of love welled up inside me, my mind was filled with thoughts of making her smile again.

(One present most definitely won’t be enough.)

��°•*⁀➷Masterlist

[ranboo5]

LIKE MAN “ She never felt that safe in her own head/We both hate the news” “Smiling when I ask if she’s bored yet/Wondering if we took it too far”“But you can’t stay awake forever/No, you can’t stay awake forever” “Unless she tells me that it’s nothing/I really hope it’s nothing” “I’m not sure if you want it, not sure if you need me, too” “And I've come to the uncomfortable conclusion I'll be spending the rest of my life in a state/Of constant paranoia/Just let me follow you/And I'll proceed to bang my head on every doorway/And doorframe you see suitable for us to go through!/And I've found that the road to happiness is paved/With rows and rows/Of VERY TEMPTING PARKING SPACES” “I'm not paranoid, I'm a realist/I KNOW YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!!”

[sunshine-on-marz]

This just in

I am a total Fucking Dumbass

and I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion I’ll be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia

Let me follow you and I’ll proceed to bang my head on every doorway and doorframe you see suitable for us to go through

And I’ve found that the road to happiness is paved with

Rows

And

Rows

OF

VERY

TEMPTING

PARKING

SPACES

I’m not paranoid I’m a realist

I KNOW YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME

[surfpent]

i have memorized the bridge to call me what you like and it gets better every time..

THIS JUST IN: I AM A TOTAL FUCKING DUMBASS

AND I’VE COME TO THE UNCOMFORTABLE CONCLUSION THAT I WILL BE SPENDING THE REST OF MY LIFE IN A STATE OF CONSTANT PARANOIA

JUST LET ME FOLLOW YOU. I WILL PROCEED TO BANG MY HEAD ON EVERY DOORWAY AND DOORFRAME YOU SEE SUITABLE FOR US TO GO THROUGH

AND I’VE FOUND THAT THE ROAD TO HAPPINESS IS PAVED WITH ROWS AND ROWS OF VERY TEMPTING PARKING SPACES.

I’m not paranoid, I’m a realist.

I KNOW YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME—

[firefurious]

[   07:42:02 PM   :   grace   ]   —   i’ve   said   before   that   i   don’t   like   not   being   able   to   see   whoever   i’m   talking   to   ,   but   i   think   this   is   much   ,   much   worse   .   is   texting   really   the   preferred   method   humans   use   to   communicate   with   each   other   these   days   …   ?   not   that   i   don't   appreciate   the   beauty   of   the   written   form   but   you   can   hardly   call   this   any   sort   of   scripture   . i’m   not   used   to   this   …   what   did   you   two   call   it   …   a   keyboard   ?   it’s   taken   me   at   least   ten   times   as   long   to   write   all   of   this   out   when   i   could   have   just   spoken   to   you   in   person   .   or   called   you   ,   even   .   yes   ,   a   phone   call   .   i’d   happily   be   on   one   with   you   now   .

and   …   sent   .   finally   .   a   deflated   sigh   rises   out   from   unfolding   posture   ,   straightening   from   position   sat   and   leaned   uncomfortably   over   his   phone   for   what   must   have   been   the   past   ten   to   fifteen   minutes   .   vision   begs   for   rest   and   now   that   focus   has   unlatched   itself   from   task   ,   he   realizes   with   full-force   the   headache   striking   like   lightning   between   his   temples   .   tension   has   taken   root   in   his   body   ,   and   as   he   stretches   upwards   and   back   with   a   deep   grunt   ,   apollo   brings   to   mind   the   way   he’s   had   to   repeatedly   ,   but   gently   (   and   unfortunately   ,   ineffectively   )   remind   the   oracle   to   mind   her   own   posture   while   spending time on   the   computer   .   perhaps   the   sun   god   would   never   understand   just   how   mortals   could   subject   themselves   to   —   wait   .

eyes   dart   back   to   the   screen   and   the   text   he's   just   sent   .   he   reads   it   again   .   next   to   the   message   ,   there's   a   tiny   ‘   read   ‘   and   checkmark   and   in   the   second   it   takes   him   to   process   this   ,   the   bottom   of   the   screen   suddenly   shows   that   grace   is   in   the   middle   of   responding   .

his   finger   finds   the   call   button   at   the   top   of   the   screen   with   a   speed   that   he's   never   had   with   anything   to   do   with   technology   .

after   a   few   rings   ,   she   picks   up   .   thank   the   gods   .

❛   grace   —   my   message   just   now   —   i   apologize   for   suddenly   calling   and   interrupting   you   while   you   were   speaking   .   i   just   had   to   clarify   what   i   said   and   i   knew   that   i   would’ve   never   been   able   to   type   it   out   fast   enough   …   ❜   breathless   ,   almost   .   catching   up   ,   catching   up   —   he   pauses   for   a   second   ,   more   for   his   own   benefit   than   hers   to   slow   down   .   ❛   i   didn't   mean   to   suggest   that   i   don’t   enjoy   calling   you   ,   i   —   ah   …   ❜   a   realization   hits   him   that   that's   probably   not   at   all   what   she   would've   thought   .   even   if   she   had   noticed   that   possible   interpretation   ,   at   worst   she   would've   teased   him   .   for   too   long   has   he   been   too   used   to   others   —   and   himself   —   jumping   to   conclusions   .

❛   …   what   am   i   saying   .   ❜   all   energy   leaves   him   .   the   next   sigh   finds   his   back   and   shoulders   pressed   into   the   mattress   ,   hand   over   his   eyes   like   bridge   between   temples .   ❛   forgive   me   ,   grace   …   i   think   i   just   miss   hearing   your   voice   .   ❜

TEXT MESSAGES, always accepting. // @roteden

The smile that spreads upon her lips comes easily and unnoticed, too enraptured in what causes it to realize her own reaction. It never fails to amuse her, his aversion to technology and the subsequent lack of understanding of the purpose of even simpler things; endearing, despite the frustration so palpable she can almost feel it from the other side of the country.

He still tries, though, and she loves him for it.

(There she goes again, Bryan teases in the background. Honestly, I've never seen Grace reply that fast to anyone but Freddie. It must be love, Kaz complements. She lifts her eyes from the screen only enough to tell them to shut up.)

UNSENT [ 07:43 pm : the sun ☀��� ] — i don't know, the way you type makes it seem a lot more like some sort of s

Eyes widen at the sudden interruption, though somehow Grace thinks she should've seen it coming. A quiet chuckle and her bandmates are divided in their reactions (Say hi to Apollo for me, Kaz asks while Bryan rolls his eyes. Freddie is more practical: We really should start getting ready soon. Don't take too long, ok?), and it's only the latter Grace acknowledges, a nod and a promise she'll be ready on time. Or close to it.

When she picks up, a brief moment after the phone starts ringing, there is no time wasted in 'hi, how are you?'. Instead, the greeting she receives is a succession of words, poured and trampling one another in his rush to say them all, so fast she has no time to ask him to calm down. Apollo tries to, nevertheless, speech becoming easier to follow — and forming an apologetic explanation she didn't need at all, the thought that's what he meant not even having crossed her mind.

Grace doesn't mean to laugh at him; laughter escapes her all the same, soft and musical and endeared rather than mocking. She can hear how tired he is in his voice, the heavy sigh only adding to it. The lingering smile starts to fade; she can only think of how much she misses him.

❝ It's okay, ❞ Reassurance, genuine and gentle, is inevitably tempered with a bit of teasing. ❝ I loved getting your almost scripture, o God of Enlightenment, but it's nice to just talk to you. ❞

❝ We'll be preparing for the next concert soon, ❞ Would-be silence is filled as she continues to talk; if he wished to hear her voice, she wouldn't deny him that. ❝ But you know you can always just call. Texting is just easier when for whatever reason I can't pick up. ❞

❝ Have you asked Oracle to teach you about video calls? We could solve the problem of not seeing who you're talking to that way. ❞ She would do it then, were it not for the thought it might be even more confusing to the already frustrated Apollo. ❝ Not as good as being in my dazzling presence, I know, but an alternative. ❞

❝ You could also just come along for the rest of the tour, you know, ❞ An offer posed before, an option from the start; no one would mind — she would rejoice. ❝ I don't mean to press or anything, just... saying you could. If you want to. ❞

❝ I miss you too, ❞ Softly added, even though it was likely noticeable from the start. ❝ I love being on stage, but — well. I just miss you. ❞

[achingly-shy]

🎧

“this just in / i am a total fucking dumbass / and i’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion / i’ll be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia”

send me a 🎧 and i will put my music on shuffle and give you a song and my favorite lyric from it

[mybeautifulownlittleworld]

This just in: I am a total fucking dumbass And I've come to the uncomfortable conclusion that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia https://www.instagram.com/p/ColGuo9JpxI/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[peridotunoffichel]

I am a total fucking dumbass And I've come to the uncomfortable conclusion that I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in a state Of constant paranoia

[constelco556]

"This just in; I am a total fucking dumbass

And I’ve come to the uncomfortable conclusion I’ll be spending the rest of my life in a state of constant paranoia

Just let me follow you And I’ll proceed to bang my head on every doorway and doorframe you see suitable for us to go through

And I’ve found that the road to happiness is paved

With rows and rows of very tempting parking spaces

I’m not paranoid, I’m a realist I know you’re gonna kill me!"