#First Specter / Saved. = Spirit.

[novaursa]

Legacy (shadow of war)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: This is the last chapter.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: daybreak

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril @urdxrling

The air inside Casterly Rock was thick with silence—a silence so heavy, so suffocating, that it pressed upon every soul who still lived.

Jon Snow stepped through the gates, his boots echoing against the cold stone floor. He was flanked by Tormund and Davos, their faces grim, their eyes set ahead as they marched through the ruined stronghold. Behind them, the survivors of the battle followed—men of the North, soldiers of the Westerlands, all moving with the same heavy gait, their bodies battered and their spirits spent.

But no one spoke.

No one dared to speak.

It was as if the very walls of Casterly Rock mourned—the torches flickering in their iron sconces, casting long, jagged specters over the stone, the corridors stretching into endless darkness.

Jon had known grief. He had felt loss so many times before, yet something about this was different—something about the air, the weight of the silence, the way the survivors carried themselves as if they were already ghosts.

When they reached the great hall, Jon found them.

A dozen Lannister guards stood stationed, their armor dented, their faces hollow with exhaustion. Kevan Lannister was among them, his posture rigid, his eyes rimmed red.

And at the center of it all—Damon.

The boy sat on the steps of the dais, his small frame hunched over, his arms wrapped around his knees. His silver-gold hair fell over his face, but Jon could see his eyes—distant, vacant, staring at something that was no longer there.

Jon had seen that look before.

He had worn it himself.

Slowly, carefully, Jon approached.

The closer he got, the more he could see the scars—the fresh burns that still marred one side of Damon’s face, the skin raw and newly healed, the mark of dragonfire and tragedy.

Jon knelt down beside him, resting his forearm on his knee, keeping his voice low.

“I’m sorry.”

Damon didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t even breathe for a moment.

And then—

“I want to see them.”

Jon’s chest tightened.

Damon’s voice was flat, empty, lacking the innocence of a child his age. There was no trembling, no weeping—only a distant numbness, a void that threatened to swallow him whole.

Kevan shifted uncomfortably, but he said nothing. The guards behind them lowered their gazes, some looking toward Jon as if hoping he might say no.

Jon didn’t.

Because he knew what it meant to be denied the truth.

He exhaled softly, glancing toward Davos and Tormund. They said nothing, only watching with solemn eyes.

Jon turned back to Damon, his voice steady.

“I’ll take you to them.”

For the first time since Jon entered the hall, Damon looked at him.

His eyes were not entirely his father’s—they were Targaryen eyes, mostly violet, just like his mother’s. But they were hollow, as if a part of him had already gone beyond the veil, lost in a grief so deep that it had yet to fully surface.

Jon stood first, offering his hand.

Damon stared at it for a long moment—then, wordlessly, he took it.

The hall remained silent as Jon led the boy out, the flickering torchlight casting long, sorrowful shadows over them.

Kevan followed. So did a handful of Lannister guards. Davos and Tormund remained at their backs, their presence a silent show of strength.

But Jon knew—there was no strength to be found here.

Only ashes.

Only loss.

Only the unforgiving truth that no child should ever have to face.

And yet—Damon walked beside him.

No tears.

No words.

Just silence.

And Jon—who had lost everything once—knew that this was only the beginning of the boy’s grief.

The true mourning had yet to come.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of charred flesh and smoke, the last remnants of dragonfire clinging to the ruins of what had been the final battlefield. The earth beneath their boots was scorched black, the snow melted away in streaks, revealing the ashen bones that remained. The dawn had come, thin and pale against the lingering darkness of the Long Night, but there was no warmth to be found.

Viserion stood like a stone sentinel, her armored form unmoving, the golden plating that once gleamed bright now tarnished with soot and battle scars. The great she-dragon had not moved since she had breathed her last fire upon her rider and her mate. She was watching—as if she could still see the souls of the fallen lingering in the smoke.

And beside her, Drogon and Rhaegal loomed, their massive black and green forms restless, wings twitching, as if they too felt something was wrong in the air.

Daenerys stood at the foot of the remains, her silver hair unbound, the wind tugging it across her face as she stared at the blackened bones of the woman she had never truly known. She had fought for a throne neither of them had ever sat upon, and now only one remained.

She had come too late.

The crunch of footsteps in the dirt made her turn.

Kevan Lannister led Damon forward, the boy’s small frame looking impossibly frail beneath his thick cloak, his scars visible in the morning light. He moved with purpose, his eyes never once shifting from where his parents’ bodies had been burned.

Jon walked at Damon’s side, his face hollow, his jaw clenched so tightly it seemed as though he were forcing himself to breathe. His gloved hands were shaking, though whether from exhaustion or grief, it was impossible to say.

Damon stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Then he knelt.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Viserion lowered her head, her golden eyes soft as she pressed her massive snout against the boy’s shoulder. He did not flinch, did not move—just sat in silence as she nuzzled him, the last piece of his mother still tethered to this world.

Jon turned away.

He couldn’t look at it any longer—the sight of the charred ground, the dragon mourning her rider, the child who had lost everything in one night.

His heart felt like it was splitting apart, torn between anger, sorrow, and failure. He had fought so hard, and yet—it was not enough.

A heavy sigh passed Daenerys’ lips as she turned her gaze to Damon, stepping forward carefully, her boots pressing into the blackened earth.

“You don’t have to stay here.” Her voice was quiet, almost gentle. “You can come with me. You don’t have to be alone.”

Kevan Lannister stiffened immediately.

“His place is here.” His voice was firm, his stance unyielding. “Damon is Lord of Casterly Rock now. He will rule. This is his home.”

Daenerys turned her gaze to Kevan, her expression hardened.

“He is my blood.” She took another step, her hands open, placating. “He is a Targaryen. And he should not be left to fend for himself among men in lion’s clothing. I would make him my heir—”

“His duty is here.” Kevan’s tone was sharper now. “We must think of the Westerlands, of the line of succession—”

“And we must think of his brother.”

The words cut through the cold like a blade.

Damon, who had remained silent for so long, finally spoke.

And his voice was like steel.

“Maelor is no longer my brother.”

The wind howled through the battlefield, but no one spoke.

Damon lifted his head, his eyes unblinking, his jaw clenched.

“Next time we meet… I will have to kill him.”

The words were spoken with such certainty, such finality, that even Kevan hesitated.

Daenerys knelt beside him, placing a careful hand on his shoulder.

“Come with me, sweet one. You don’t have to fight this alone. You can come home with me, to Dragonstone. We can take back what is ours.”

Damon did not look at her.

His small fingers clenched into fists.

“The dragon has three heads.”

Daenerys drew back slightly, staring at him, realization flickering across her face.

Then, slowly, Damon rose to his feet.

He did not take her hand.

He did not look back.

He turned, walking away from the remains of his parents, Kevan following closely behind, and as he passed Jon, he did not stop.

Jon did not either.

He could not bear to look at what remained of his mother.

And as Daenerys stood in the ashes of her sister, Rhaegal watched Jon, his great head shifting slightly as if he too was meant to follow—as if something unseen was calling to him.

But he did not move.

He stayed behind.

And as Damon left his mother and father behind forever, Viserion rose, her enormous golden wings stretching toward the dawn.

Even after death, they would watch over him.

The Years After the Long Night: An Account of the Realm

(As recorded by various sources: Ser Davos Seaworth, Ser Jaime Lannister, Ser Beric Dondarrion, Tyrion Lannister, and Lord Kevan Lannister)

The Aftermath of the Long Night

Ser Davos Seaworth, in his recollections written years later, would say:

"The war was won, but at a terrible cost. The sun rose over a kingdom that had barely survived, its people broken, its rulers dead, and its lands in ruin. Those who did not prepare perished in the first year. The rest of us carried on, but we carried scars—on our bodies, in our minds, and in our very souls."

The Westerlands were left in Damon Lannister’s hands, though at the time of the war’s end, he was still but a boy. Lord Kevan Lannister ruled as regent in his nephew’s name, holding Casterly Rock as the last surviving adult of his family. Ser Jaime Lannister had returned from King’s Landing, having been present for its slow collapse, and stood by his nephew’s side.

Yet succession was not as simple as it should have been.

King Tommen Baratheon had succumbed to shivers mere days before the Long Night reached its peak. His queen, Margaery Tyrell, fled back to Highgarden, where she remained, childless and unwilling to return to court. Princess Myrcella Baratheon, wed into House Martell, ruled alongside her husband in Dorne, a kingdom that had suffered its own horrors during the war.

Thus, when the question of the Iron Throne arose, the realm found itself leaderless once more.

A Question of Succession

It was Daenerys Stormborn who made the first move.

Having survived the Long Night alongside her dragons, she pressed her claim to the Iron Throne. Yet the lords of Westeros, having suffered too long under foreign invasion, war, and death, refused her outright.

"The Iron Throne was stolen from my family," she declared in Dragonstone, as recorded by Tyrion Lannister in his letters. "It is my birthright."

But Lord Kevan Lannister countered her claim with one of his own.

"The throne was stolen, yes. But not from you."

The Lords of Westeros had no wish for another foreign war, and Daenerys, despite her survival, was still seen as an outsider, raised in Essos, returning with armies of Dothraki and Unsullied who had already begun to dwindle in number.

Meanwhile, Damon Lannister stood as the undeniable heir of both House Targaryen and House Lannister—a son of the last true dragon princess of the realm.

"He carries the blood of Kings, the blood of Conquerors. The dragon within him was hatched in fire and raised in war. If the throne is to be claimed by blood, it is his by right before hers." — Ser Jaime Lannister, when speaking before the assembled lords of the realm.

And so the realm was split once more.

The Kingsmoot of the Lords

A great council was called at Riverrun, for King’s Landing had been left in ruin, abandoned by all but the desperate. The lords of Westeros gathered to discuss who should rule them.

The North, led by Jon Snow, made no claim to the throne. Jon, though named Lord of Winterfell, refused any title, retreating to the Wall alongside what remained of the Free Folk.

House Arryn, under Lord Robert Arryn, sided with Damon’s claim.

House Tully, under Ser Edmure Tully, did the same.

House Baratheon had been wiped out entirely.

House Martell, with Myrcella ruling alongside her Dornish husband, took no side, wanting only to rebuild.

House Greyjoy, with what remained of their fleets, offered their swords to whoever would give them lands—but none wished to deal with them.

The Reach, under Margaery, refused Daenerys as well, having lost too much to the war.

And so, in the end, Damon Lannister was declared King of the Seven Kingdoms, but with a stipulation.

"He is but a boy. A regent must rule until he comes of age."

That regent was Kevan Lannister, but Tyrion Lannister returned to claim a place on the council, replacing Mace Tyrell as Hand of the King.

Daenerys Stormborn, the last adult of House Targaryen, was cast aside once more.

Her dragons were strong, but her claim was not.

The Rule of the Dragonlord

Damon Lannister grew into his role with Viserion at his side.

When he came of age, he took the throne in King’s Landing, but not before ensuring Casterly Rock remained as his second stronghold. He did not trust the capital, nor its history.

His rule was marked by steel and fire, for though the Long Night had ended, another war always threatened to begin.

Daenerys never forgave him for taking what she saw as hers.

But Westeros had chosen.

"The boy had his mother’s silver hair and his father’s sharp gaze. He did not speak like a Lannister nor a Targaryen, but something in between—a creature born of war, raised by steel, and crowned by fire. He was neither the ruler the realm wanted nor the one they expected. But he was what remained." — Ser Jaime Lannister, reflecting on Damon’s coronation.

Thus, the Seven Kingdoms crowned Damon of House Lannister, the Dragon of the West, the last true king of a realm that had nearly been swallowed by the night.

The War of the Last Dragon

(As recorded by Ser Beric Dondarrion, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Grand Maester Orwyn in "The Dragon of the West")

The Last Attempt of Daenerys Stormborn

Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of Nothing, did not forget nor forgive.

For years, she had bided her time, gathering what few followers remained to her cause. The Unsullied, now scattered and weary of war, still marched at her command. The Dothraki, broken and reduced, still rode for her. But the lords of Westeros had turned their backs on her entirely.

When she sailed from Dragonstone, it was not as a conqueror, but as a desperate woman clinging to a birthright that had never been hers.

"She came with dragons, but not with strength. She came with fire, but no claim. And when she came, she came to burn, not to rule." — Ser Jaime Lannister, when recounting Daenerys’ final war.

The Civil War began with her attack on Storm’s End, a desperate attempt to secure a stronghold for her failing cause. But Damon Lannister—now a man grown, a dragon-rider, a warrior king—met her before she could rally support.

Viserion, now a beast of terrifying size, clad in gold-forged Lannister armor, took to the skies against Drogon, who had been his mother’s shield for too long.

It was not a battle.

It was a massacre.

"She was once the Mother of Dragons. But even dragons grow old, and even dragons can be killed. Drogon fought, but he fought alone." — Grand Maester Orwyn, "The Fall of the Last Targaryen"

With Daemon on Viserion and Jaime leading the charge below, Daenerys’ army crumbled in days.

The Dothraki were slaughtered on the plains, their great khalasar shattered. The Unsullied fought to the last man, refusing to surrender. Rhaegal, the last of her dragons, was struck down by scorpions, pierced by Lannister steel before he could reach King’s Landing.

And Daenerys Stormborn—the last Targaryen, the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons—was captured outside the ruins of Summerhall, where once a Targaryen king had burned in his own madness.

She was brought before Damon, bound in chains, her silver hair stained red with the blood of her fallen dreams.

"She looked at him, and she saw her father. She looked at him, and she saw her brother. She looked at him, and she saw the throne she would never sit upon." — Ser Beric Dondarrion, recounting Daenerys’ trial.

Damon did not order her death.

She was sent to exile, where she would never rise again.

The Mysterious Death of Cersei Lannister

In the midst of the war, another death shook Westeros—but this one came not by sword or dragonfire.

Cersei Lannister, Queen Dowager, was found dead in her chambers in Casterly Rock.

The cause?

Poison.

"Some say she took her own life, knowing her cause was lost. Others say she was murdered, for she had made too many enemies. And still, there are whispers that it was Tyrion’s revenge at last, though he swore it was not his doing." — Grand Maester Orwyn, The Lannister Succession

With Jaime Lannister’s loyalty unwavering to Damon, Cersei had been isolated, abandoned, a queen with no crown, a mother with no living sons.

When her body was found cold, the realm did not mourn.

Her death was a whisper in the storm, a footnote in a history already drenched in blood.

The King Who Waits for Darkness

Damon’s rule was one of fire and steel.

He was no soft ruler.

He rebuilt Westeros, but always trained for war.

He spent years upon years preparing, forging alliances, raising armies. He honed his skill with the sword, he strengthened his bond with Viserion, and he watched the North with wary eyes.

For the Others had taken his brother.

"The Long Night was over, but it was not the final one. The creatures took what they came for. They left because they had won something we do not yet understand. And one day, they will return to finish what they started." — Ser Beric Dondarrion, his final words before his death.

Damon knew this.

He trained not for peace, but for the next war.

He trained to face his brother, Maelor, now lost to the darkness, now the prince of the dead.

And Westeros, for all its victories, was left waiting once more for the storm to come.

The North Remembers

(As recorded by Ser Davos Seaworth, Tormund Giantsbane, and Maester Eddrick in The Chronicles of the North)

The Ghost of Y/N

Though the Long Night had passed, the North was never the same again.

Winterfell, once the heart of the Stark legacy, was a place of silence and waiting.

Jon Snow had gone beyond the Wall, leading the remnants of the Free Folk into the untamed lands of eternal winter. He never returned.

Yet, those left behind still spoke of him.

"He left because he could not bear it. He left because his grief was greater than all of ours. He left because he had lost his mother, the only one who had ever truly called him son." — Ser Davos Seaworth, The Man Who Left

Even so, Y/N’s presence lingered in Winterfell—not as a ghost, but as a memory that refused to fade.

Bran Stark, now a man grown, now a seer of things beyond mortal sight, claimed that he could still feel her.

"She is not gone. Not completely. The flames that took her did not consume all that she was." — Bran Stark, the Three-Eyed Raven

But what unnerved them most was that Bran also claimed to sense Maelor.

"He is lost, but he is still dragon blood. He walks among them, but he remembers what he was." — Bran Stark, speaking of Maelor Lannister

The North grew quiet at that.

Some, like Arya, dismissed it.

"That thing is no longer her son. When we meet him again, it will not be as kin. It will be as enemies." — Arya Stark

But Sansa did not speak of it at all.

Instead, she did what the North had always done: she remembered.

The Lady of Fire and Stone

In the cold heart of the crypts, beneath the looming statues of the Kings of Winter, stood a new monument.

It was not of Ned Stark, nor of any Stark before him.

It was of her.

The woman who had raised Jon Snow, the dragon who had burned for Westeros, the queen who had never worn a crown but had ruled over hearts nonetheless.

Y/N.

"She deserved a place among the dead of Winterfell, for she was of us, even if she never bore the name Stark." — Sansa Stark, upon commissioning the statue

It was Arya’s blade that carved the details of the face.

It was Sansa’s hands that ensured the robes and dragon’s wings were sculpted perfectly.

It was Bran’s words that made them place a small direwolf at her feet, for she had been a mother to one just as she had been a mother to Jon.

And when the work was done, Jon Snow was not there to see it.

For he was beyond the Wall, mourning in the only way he knew how.

The Egg of Viserion

It was on a night of deep cold, long after Jon had lost count of the days, that the raven came.

It bore no message, but a gift.

From Damon Lannister, the Dragon of the West, to Jon Snow.

A dragon egg, black as the midnight sky, flecked with red and gold, its shell still warm, as if carrying the last breath of summer.

"A gift from one brother to another. If you ever wish to come home, let this be your guide." — Damon’s message, as told by Maester Eddrick

Jon did not know what to do.

He stared at the egg, feeling the weight of it in his hands.

"You have a choice, Snow," Tormund had said. "Raise it, bring it back to the world, or leave it here to be forgotten."

But it was not Jon’s hands that kept it warm.

It was Ghost’s.

The great direwolf, his fur now touched with silver, curled around the egg each night, his warmth keeping it safe, guarding it as he once guarded Jon himself.

"Even out here, life still fights to survive." — Jon Snow, speaking of the egg

But Jon never left the North.

Not for Damon.

Not for the egg.

Not even for the memory of the mother he had lost.

For some wounds never heal.

Some wounds fester in the cold.

And for Jon Snow, there was no home left to return to.

[yoyomomiko]

[TWO] — The haunted shed

☆ `` SPECTRAL SCAMMERS ``

☆ — summary: when cartman comes up with yet another 'get rich quick' scheme, he forces his friends, and you, into starting a ghost hunting service. armed with a mix of makeshift equipment, a questionable van and no actual skills, you begin taking jobs to "exorcise" haunted houses.

warnings: strong language, cartman being cartman

(a/n): it's so short and it feels pretty bland, but I'll try to get better and make the chapters longer :(( also, it looks like there's no ghosts in this chapter! at least for now.

wc: 2.7k+

★m.list

★series m.list

<- [PREVIOUS] — [NEXT] ->

The next day, you all met in Cartman's basement, which now served as your official 'Specter Squad Headquarters'. Cartman paced in front of the whiteboard, still scribbled with your chaotic business plan, a smirk glued to his face.

"Ladies and gentlemen..." He began, pausing for a dramatic effect. "We have our first job!"

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, except for Tweek, who was already trembling.

"Who's the poor sucker?" Stan asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Cartman waved his phone in the air proudly. "My mom's friend's neighbor. Apparently, their shed is haunted by some ghostly menace. Creepy noises, things getting knocked over, the whole paranormal package!"

Kyle frowned sitting on the edge of the couch with his arms resting on his knees. "Let me guess. You told them we'd take care of it for a ridiculous amount of money?"

"$50." Cartman replied with a smug look on his face.

"Fifty bucks for a shed?!" Kyle repeated, eyes wide.

"Hey, ghost insurance isn't cheap." Cartman shot back. "Do you even know how much ectoplasm containment costs? Exactly. I'm giving them a good deal."

You snorted, leaning back on the couch. "More like you're scamming them. What's next, charging a consultation fee?"

"That's not a bad idea..." Cartman muttered, trailing off as he mentally added it to his list.

Stan sighed. "Alright, so what's the plan? Just show up, wave a flashlight around and hope no one notices we're full of crap?"

"Uh, no, Stan." Cartman replied, rolling his eyes. "We need equipment. Real ghost hunting tools! If we show up empty handed, we'll look like amateurs."

"We are amateurs." Craig pointed out, but Cartman ignored him.

...

Within minutes, you all had rummaged through the basement for anything that could count as equipment. Flashlights were passed around, most of them barely functioning, as Cartman dragged a vacuum cleaner from a corner.

"This." He started, holding it up. "Is our spirit vacuum. It sucks up ghosts and traps them inside."

"That's literally just a vacuum." You stared at Cartman, crossing your arms.

"Not anymore." Cartman declared with a smirk, sticking a few glow in the dark star stickers on its side. "Now it's paranormal tech. You're welcome!"

"This is so stupid." Kyle groaned, running a hand down his face.

"You're stupid!" Cartman snapped. "But guess what? The customers don't care. They just want results. And results are exactly what we're gonna give them. Fake or not!"

You grabbed one of the flashlights, testing it's weak glow before glancing at Kyle. "You think this thing's gonna last the night?"

"Not a chance." Kyle shook his head, the corners of his lips tugging upwards, forming a faint smile.

His gaze was fixed on you for a moment longer than necessary as you felt heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, lovebirds!" Cartman interrupted, snapping his fingers in your direction. "Save the awkward flirting for later. We've got ghosts to catch!"

"We weren't-" You quickly spoke up, but Cartman was already moving on.

.

.

.

The group assembled just outside the neighbor's picked fence. Cartman stood at the front with his back straightened and a clipboard in hand.

"Alright, listen up." He began, his voice hushed. "This is our first gig, so we're going to nail it. No screw ups, no whining, and definitely no blowing our cover."

"Cover? You mean the fact that we're not actual ghost hunters?" Stan raised an eyebrow.

Cartman glared at him. "Exactly. So shut up and follow my lead." He turned back to face the house, his face lighting up with smug confidence.

You all exchanged glances but followed him up the driveway anyway. You stayed close to Kyle, who was mumbling under his breath.

"This is going to be a disaster." He muttered, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Probably." You agreed, giving him a small smile. "At least it'll be entertaining, right?"

"You have a weird definition of 'entertaining'." Kyle glanced at you, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

Before you could respond, Cartman knocked loudly on the front door. A moment later, it creaked open to reveal a middle aged woman with dark circles under her eyes.

"Thank goodness you're here!" She exclaimed. "It's been awful! Just awful!"

"Ma'am, you made the right choice calling the Specter Squad. We're South Park's best paranormal investigators, and we're here to solve your ghost problem." Cartman faked a professional tone, which wasn't really convincing.

"Oh, I just don't know what's in that shed. Every night, I hear the strangest noises... Scratching, banging, sometimes even growling... It's terrifying!"

"Sounds like raccoons..." Kyle muttered under his breath.

Cartman elbowed him sharply, giving the woman a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, ma'am. We've dealt with worse. Now let's talk about payment..."

"Payment?" The woman blinked, caught off guard as her brows raised in surprise.

"Of course! Ghost hunting isn't cheap, you know. We've got specialized equipment, years of experience-"

"Years?" Clyde interrupted, but Cartman ignored him.

"And we offer a guarantee of satisfaction. For a case like this, we'll charge a base fee of $50."

"Alright... Fifty... But only if you can get rid of whatever's out there." She hesitated, looking towards each of you in the group.

"Deal!" Cartman exclaimed, sticking out his hand. She shook it hesitantly before leading the group around the side of the house and into the backyard.

.

.

The shed came into view, at the far end of the yard. It was old, its wooden walls splintered, with rusted hinges hanging off the door.

Cartman took a deep breath, clipboard clutched to his chest. "Alright, this is it. Stan, [Y/N], you investigate the area. Kyle, you're with me. Clyde and Kenny, guard the door. Craig, Tweek- uh... Just stand there and look useful."

"This is a bad i-idea! What if it's not a ghost?! What if it's like, a demon or something?!" Tweek panicked, fidgeting nervously.

"It's not a demon." Craig replied flatly, but even he looked a bit uneasy.

You and Stan both glanced at each other as you both began walking around the shed, flashlights in hand.

"So... What do you think we're actually dealing with here?" You asked as you waved your flashlight around.

"Probably racoons." Stan answered with a shrug. "But knowing Cartman, he'll find a way to make it sound like a ghost."

"That sounds about right." You smiled softly.

On the other side, Cartman was crouched, pretending to examine the ground. Kyle stood nearby, arms crossed as he had a tired expression on his face.

"What exactly are you looking for?" Kyle asked as he sighed loudly.

"Ectoplasmic traces." Cartman replied, nodding to himself.

"You don't even know what that means." Kyle ran a hand over his face, sighing for the nth time that day.

"Shut up Jew! I know what I'm doing."

Kyle rolled his eyes but gazed at you when your flashlight beam caught something shining in the grass.

"What's that?" He asked, walking over to join you.

You bent down and picked up the small, glinting object. A broken piece of metal that looked like it had come from the shed's roof.

"Probably nothing." You responded as you held it up for him to see.

He leaned closer, his face inches away from yours.

"Still, good eye."

You felt heat rushing up to your cheeks, but before you could say something, Cartman's voice cut through your sweet moment.

"Alright, idiots! Enough playing around. Let's get inside and find this ghost!"

...

The shed's door creaked loudly as you pushed it open, earning a whimper from Tweek. Your flashlight glow cut through the dark, revealing cobweb, scattered tools and a floor with littered leaves. You quickly turned off your flashlight as you looked away from the sight.

"Alright assholes, try not to screw up." Cartman declared, clipboard in hand as he gestured towards the shed.

"We have to act professional!" He whisper yelled, eyes narrowing.

"How professional can we look with a broken vacuum and dollar store flashlights?" Craig muttered, but his words were drowned by Cartman's loud, fake cough.

"Why do I feel like this is going to be a disaster?" Clyde mumbled, rubbing his arms for warmth.

"It's always a disaster when Cartman's in charge." Kyle replied in a dry tone.

You smirked, catching the way Kyle's gaze studied the shed. He glanced at you, his eyes softening, though only for a moment, the tension in the air didn't feel so heavy.

"Are we doing this or not?" Craig asked impatiently as he crossed his arms.

"Yes, Craig, we're doing this. But first, we need to assert dominance!" Cartman sighed out in an exaggerated way.

"Dominance?" You repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"I like how that sounds." Kenny snickered, and so did Clyde as he nudged Kenny's shoulder.

"You don't just walk into a ghost's lair! You have to show it who's boss!" Cartman pointed at the shed dramatically.

"We're ghost hunters, not wrestlers." Stan stated as Craig chuckled.

Ignoring him, Cartman turned to the neighbor, who was watching nervously from her back porch.

"Ma'am, we're going in. We've got this under control." Cartman spoke up confidently.

"Please... Just be careful." The woman clutched her cardigan tightly as she nodded. "It's been making horrible noise lately."

"No worries, we'll take care of it. By the way, there's a $10 fee for ghost insurance in case it tries to follow us home."

"Ghost insurance?" Kyle repeated, squinting his eyes at Cartman.

"Do you want to get haunted, Kyle? Didn't think so." Cartman shot him a glare.

...

The group gathered their supplies, which were only some barely working flashlights, an old vacuum cleaner Cartman had given the title of 'Spirit Sucker 3000', and a few random tools from Clyde's garage.

"I still don't understand how this is supposed to work..." Tweek muttered, holding his flashlight like it might explode.

"It works because I said it works." Cartman replied, adjusting the vacuum strap on his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes and turned on your flashlight again. The shed wasn't particularly big, but the barely standing wood made it seem more sinister. Plus the cobwebs, creepy old tools and leaves left on the floor.

"Let's just get this over with." Craig sighed as he stepped up to the door.

"Hold up! The leader goes first!" Cartman held up a hand to stop him.

"You're not the leader." Kyle shot back.

"Yes, I am!" Cartman snapped. "I made the website, I set up the payment system, and I'm the only one here who isn't a total pussy!"

"Fine. Go ahead, fearless leader." Craig mocked.

Cartman smirked as he confidently pushed the door further and stepped inside.

...

The air inside was heavy and barely breatheable, carrying the scent of mold and rotting wood. Your flashlight flickered as you swept it across the space, revealing shelves packed with rusted tools and boxes stacked carelessly.

"Wow..." Kenny's eyes scanned the area. "This place is charming."

"Spread out, assholes! We're looking for signs of paranormal activity!" Cartman waved his clipboard dramatically.

"What exactly counts as a sign?" Stan asked as he stares at a random jar with unidentifiable substances.

"Anything spooky." Cartman answered simply. "Weird sounds, cold spots, glowing slime... You know, ghost stuff."

"You're making this up as you go, aren't you?" Kyle groaned.

"Shut up, Kyle! Do your job!" Cartman yelled.

You held back a laugh as Kyle mumbled something under his breath. When he caught your eye, his gaze softened, giving you a small smile that made your heart pound in your chest.

...

You all explored different corners of the shed, examining and looking out for 'spooky stuff'.

You crouched near a stack of boxes, brushing away cobwebs to get a closer look. The wood beneath your fingers felt slightly wet and splintered. You noticed a faint light coming from above.

"Hey..." You called out, shining your flashlight towards the roof, standing up. "There's a hole up here."

Kyle joined you, squinting up at the opening. "That could explain the noises. If wind's getting in, it might make the walls creak."

"Or it could be the ghost's escape route." Cartman interrupted, scribbling something on his clipboard.

"Pretty sure ghosts don't need escape routes." You sighed.

Cartman ignored you, turning his attention to a nearby workbench.

Kyle stood by your side, tilting his head thoughtfully as he examined the roof. "Good catch." He praised, his voice quieter now.

"Thanks." You replied, smiling to yourself like an idiot as you felt your cheeks warm up.

All of the sudden, a loud crash echoed from the back of the shed.

"What was that?!" Tweek yelped, clutching his flashlight like a weapon.

"Relax." Kenny spoke up, moving towards the source of the noise. "It's probably just-"

His words cut off as he stumbled upon a crate.

Kenny crouched down, shining his flashlight on the wooden box. It was old and had a loose lid that looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

"What do you think's in it?" Clyde asked, creeping over Stan's shoulder.

"Only one way to find out." Kenny replied, slowly taking the lid off.

Inside was a trio of small and furry bodies. Wide eyes reflected the flashlight glow as tiny claws scratched against the wood.

"Aww, raccoons!" Kenny cooed as he pouted. "They're adorable!"

"They're so cute!" You purred as you admired them. They were so small and it could fit perfectly in your palm!

"I wanna pet them." Kenny said as he reached out to pick one up.

The once cuddly creatures now hissed loudly, lounging at him with surprising speed.

Kenny screeched, stumbling backwards as the raccoon latched onto his sleeve.

The other two raccoons bolted from the crate, darting across the shed.

"Jesus Christ!" Stan yelled, jumping out of the way.

"Get it off! Get it off me!" Kenny screamed, waving his arm around crazily as the raccoon kept clinging onto his sleeve.

"Stop moving!" You shouted, grabbing a broom and trying to swat the raccoon away. It hissed at you, revealing its sharp teeth.

Another raccoon climbed onto a shelf, knocking over jars and sending their contents crashing to the floor. Tweek jumped onto a crate to avoid the mess, grabbing at his hair.

"Where are they coming from?!" Cartman swung his flashlight around wildly.

"They're everywhere!" Craig noted, dodging another raccoon as it ran past him.

"We need to get them out of here!" Kyle tried to block one of the raccoons' paths.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Stan yelled, ducking as another jar flew above his head.

"Loud noises!" Cartman quickly grabbed a rusty pot from a workbench. "Scare them out!"

You didn't have a better idea, so you grabbed a pan and started banging it against the broom handle. The others quickly followed, grabbing tools and smashing them into anything, clangs echoing through the shed.

Tweek kept flinching at the loud noise, but he also followed and helped the rest.

The raccoons screeched in protest, before finally rushing out the hole in the roof.

"Victory!" Cartman shouted proudly, slamming his pot.

You lowered your makeshift drumstick, panting from the effort. Kyle was standing beside you, his face flushed.

"Nice work." He nudged your shoulder lightly.

"Not bad yourself..." You replied, smiling despite what just happened.

.

.

You all stumbled out of the shed, disheveled but successful. The neighbor was waiting in the yard, fidgeting nervously.

"Well? Did you get rid of it?" She asked, nibbling on her bottom lip.

Cartman puffed out his chest, clipboard in hand. "It was a tough case." He started dramatically. "But yes, the ghost has been banished. You're welcome."

"Oh, thank you!" She exclaimed, reaching out for her wallet.

"Now, about the payment..." Cartman stopped her, holding up a finger. "It was an agressive spirit, so we're charging an extra $10 for chaos pay."

The woman hesitated but handed over the cash either way.

As you all walked away, Cartman grinned joyfully, stuffing the money into his pocket.

"First job: complete. We're officially ghost hunters, bitches!"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[book--brackets]

Summaries under the cut

The Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander

Taran wanted to be a hero, and looking after a pig wasn't exactly heroic, even though Hen Wen was an oracular pig. But the day that Hen Wen vanished, Taran was led into an enchanting and perilous world. With his band of followers, he confronted the Horned King and his terrible Cauldron-Born. These were the forces of evil, and only Hen Wen knew the secret of keeping the kingdom of Prydain safe from them. But who would find her first?

The Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White

Louie is very popular. Who wouldn't love a swan who can read, write, and play the trumpet? When Louie goes to camp, he meets a boy named A.G. who doesn't like birds, and since Louie is a bird, that means he doesn't like Louie. When A.G. pulls a dangerous stunt out on the lake, he realizes that Louie is a hero, after all.

My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George

Every kid thinks about running away at one point or another; few get farther than the end of the block. Young Sam Gribley gets to the end of the block and keeps going--all the way to the Catskill Mountains of upstate New York. There he sets up house in a huge hollowed-out tree, with a falcon and a weasel for companions and his wits as his tool for survival. In a spellbinding, touching, funny account, Sam learns to live off the land, and grows up a little in the process. Blizzards, hunters, loneliness, and fear all battle to drive Sam back to city life. But his desire for freedom, independence, and adventure is stronger. No reader will be immune to the compulsion to go right out and start whittling fishhooks and befriending raccoons.

The Black Stallion by Walter Farley

Alec Ramsay is the sole human survivor of a devastating shipwreck. Trapped on a deserted island, Alec finds his only companion is a horse, beautiful, unbroken, and savage . . . a horse whose beauty matches his wild spirit.

The Magisterium by Holly Black and Cassandra Clare

All his life, Call has been warned by his father to stay away from magic. To succeed at the Iron Trial and be admitted into the vaunted Magisterium school would bring bad things. But he fails at failing. Only hard work, loyal friends, danger, and a puppy await.

The Two Princesses of Bamarre by Gail Carson Levine

Twelve-year-old Addie admires her older sister Meryl, who aspires to rid the kingdom of Bamarre of gryphons, specters, and ogres. Addie, on the other hand, is fearful even of spiders and depends on Meryl for courage and protection. Waving her sword Bloodbiter, the older girl declaims in the garden from the heroic epic of Drualt to a thrilled audience of Addie, their governess, and the young sorcerer Rhys.

But when Meryl falls ill with the dreaded Gray Death, Addie must gather her courage and set off alone on a quest to find the cure and save her beloved sister. Addie takes the seven-league boots and magic spyglass left to her by her mother and the enchanted tablecloth and cloak given to her by Rhys - along with a shy declaration of his love. She prevails in encounters with tricky specters (spiders too) and outwits a wickedly personable dragon in adventures touched with romance and a bittersweet ending.

Bunnicula by Deborah and James Howe

Before it's too late, Harold the dog and Chester the cat must find out the truth about the newest pet in the Monroe household -- a suspicious-looking bunny with unusual habits... and fangs!

Beka Cooper by Tamora Pierce

Beka Cooper is a rookie with the law-enforcing Provost's Guard, commonly known as "the Provost's Dogs," in Corus, the capital city of Tortall. To the surprise of both the veteran "Dogs" and her fellow "puppies," Beka requests duty in the Lower City. The Lower City is a tough beat. But it's also where Beka was born, and she's comfortable there.

Beka gets her wish. She's assigned to work with Mattes and Clary, famed veterans among the Provost's Dogs. They're tough, they're capable, and they're none too happy about the indignity of being saddled with a puppy for the first time in years. What they don't know is that Beka has something unique to offer. Never much of a talker, Beka is a good listener. So good, in fact, that she hears things that Mattes and Clary never could - information that is passed in murmurs when flocks of pigeons gather ... murmurs that are the words of the dead.

In this way, Beka learns of someone in the Lower City who has overturned the power structure of the underworld and is terrorizing its citizens into submission and silence. Beka's magical listening talent is the only way for the Provost's Dogs to find out the identity of this brutal new underlord, for the dead are beyond fear. And the ranks of the dead will be growing if the Dogs can't stop a crime wave the likes of which has never been seen. Luckily for the people of the Lower City, the new puppy is a true terrier!

Fairest by Gail Carson Levine

In the kingdom of Ayortha, who is the fairest of them all? Certainly not Aza. She is thoroughly convinced that she is ugly. What she may lack in looks, though, she makes up for with a kind heart, and with something no one else has-a magical voice. Her vocal talents captivate all who hear them, and in Ontio Castle they attract the attention of a handsome prince - and a dangerous new queen.

Trickster's Duology by Tamora Pierce

Alianne is the teenage daughter of the famed Alanna, the first lady knight in Tortall. Young Aly follows in the quieter footsteps of her father, however, delighting in the art of spying. When she is captured and sold as a slave to an exiled royal family in the faraway Copper Islands, it is this skill that makes a difference in a world filled with political intrigue, murderous conspiracy, and warring gods.

[richincolor]

New Releases

Three new releases on our radar today and all three look like books I'd add to my TBR list. How about you?

Needy Little Things by Channelle Desamours Wednesday Books

Sariyah Lee Bryant can hear what people need—tangible things, like a pencil, a hair tie, a phone charger—an ability only her family and her best friend, Malcolm, know the truth about. But when she fulfills a need for her friend Deja who vanishes shortly after, Sariyah is left wondering if her ability is more curse than gift. This isn’t the first time one of her friends has landed on the missing persons list, and she’s determined not to let her become yet another forgotten Black girl. Not trusting the police and media to do enough on their own, Sariyah and her friends work together to figure out what led to Deja’s disappearance. But when Sariyah’s mother loses her job and her little brother faces complications with his sickle cell disease, managing her time, money, and emotions seems impossible. Desperate, Sariyah decides to hustle her need-sensing ability for cash—a choice that may not only lead her to Deja, but put her in the same danger Deja found herself in.

These Vengeful Wishes by Vanessa Montalban Zando Young Readers

A teen girl moves to a small town and discovers a mysterious wishing well possessed by La Cegua, a vengeful female spirit with the face of a horse skull, in Vanessa Montalban’s new YA fantasy standalone. When her stepfather is arrested, aspiring artist Ceci moves back to her mother’s hometown of Santa Aguas, an eccentric small town steeped in the legend of La Cegua, the specter of a wronged witch who appears on lonely roads at night, luring untrustworthy men to their deaths. Ceci and her mother take up residence in the abandoned manor of the Sevilla family, rumored to have been cursed by La Cegua, where she begins to uncover a past that seems to be connected to her mother. The more she learns of the Sevillas, the more Ceci finds herself forming a strange affinity with the feared Cegua, who she suspects is the one inspiring her paintings of a mysterious door in the forest. When the very door Ceci has been painting appears in the woods, she decides to venture through it with her new friend, Jamie. Together, they discover a well, guarded by the statue of a veiled woman. A well for granting wishes. The well of La Cegua. What starts off as harmless fun quickly escalates into something sinister when Ceci realizes that the wishes are putting the people she loves in danger and testing her own penchant for vengeance. After learning others are also searching for the well, Ceci must confront the truth of her mother’s past and prevent La Cegua’s wishes from being used for the wrong reasons. Ceci knows too well how much people will sacrifice for power. Every wish has its price, and La Cegua never forgets the ones who have wronged her.

This Ends in Embers (Divine Traitors #2) by Kamilah Cole Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Faron Vincent was once the saint of San Irie. Now, she’s done the unthinkable: betrayed her country. Alone, disgraced, and kidnapped, Faron is forced to help Iya grow his bloody empire. With her soul bonded to a ruthless killer, Faron has become an enemy to her people… and she fears they might be right. Elara Vincent—the new Empyrean—must undo the damage her sister has caused. San Irie has been brought back to the brink of war as Iya proclaims no nation will be safe from his brutal invasion. But how can Elara save her sister, her best friend, her country, and her world when she’s already cracking under the pressure? This heart-pounding conclusion to the Divine Traitors duology pushes these unforgettable heroines to their breaking point and beyond. Because when the lines between hero and villain are blurred, deadly sacrifices must be made.

[talkingaboutwhatiwant]

Got any cool Nevermore theories?

Using this question as an excuse to continue theorizing/mindless babbling.

"you'll be bones by sunrise" is a yummy little quote from our favorite apathetic bird. While for quite a while I was under the impression that Lenore wouldn't get her specter until the end of the series, but unless the entirety of S2 will consist of the one night, she might get it earlier. I have a hard time believing that the raven will be proven wrong in some capacity, so I see this as us being told that Lenore will get her specter, perhaps the raven's quote directly telling us she'll be a skeleton of some sort.

The passage to the land of the living. I'm not entirely sure why the gang can't just use their spectres to make the journey, maybe they can and they haven't thought about it (especially considering our heroine hasn't gotten hers yet) but nevertheless it seems like a good plot point and the rational way to get to the end.

I also wonder if any students have "recharged" enough to use their spectres, and if that'd help then against the wild hunt. Annabelle is shown in the finale very much so I'm danger, and Lenore wasn't exactly in a position to swoop in and save her.

The Curse

I've seen a lot of people theorizing that the stag is Leo, more specifically his spectre, so most of this ramble is going to be based on that idea. First off, if the stag is Leo's spectre, he likely has to constantly be in that form to keep from being eaten (to go with my assumption that spectres can't be eaten by the creatures running about) so ... how? The deans vaguely put out this idea that they and Nevermore as an academy are the ones that give the students the ability to "unlock" their spectres, but I don't support this idea. It's possible that the academy actually dampens the abilities of spectres, explaining how Theo could retain his for so long. The raven says something about the passage into new life being safe in the past, but also correlating to the creatures starving now, which seems to contradict as we don't know what the creatures eat, besides half-dead humans. Somehow the academy ruined the ecosystem, but only left predators? I don't know. I like to assume that the ecosystem involved the creatures feeding off of the traveling spirits, but not the ones who developed their spectres. The orbs present at the beginning of the series can't ALL be from Nevermore mishaps of past, right? Perhaps the reason Leo even is living as a spectre is he found out something about the deans and fled, perhaps growing enough strength with his spectre to retain it long enough to learn "the good old fashioned way" if you will, how to permanently retain it.

Another Leo theory is that he won the new life (as the deans said he was at the top of his class), and came back as one of these creatures. We're under the impression with the "second chance at life" statement that it means picking up where they left off in a Ride The Cyclone-esque way, but I don't like that idea so I'm choosing not to believe it. Besides my hate for the trope, the history of the dead traveling to the land of the living implies a reincarnation system, otherwise there'd be centuries of immortals to speak of. Perhaps Leo won the second chance, and had the rotten enough luck (perhaps from the "curse" that I don't really believe in but that's a different rant) to come back as one of these nightmarish creatures.

Annabelle and her spectre!!

I have a LOT of feelings about Annabelle and her spectre, so I'm going to try my best to make this readable.

First off, I don't believe that one can have a fake spectre, and while Annabelle had a memory planted that caused her to get hers, there must be enough truth to it. The deans are powerful, but I see spectres as an ancient mechanism, older than the Raven, (Supporting my theory that spirits used to develop their spectres on their own) and impossible to fake. Annabelle was killed before she was to be wed (the only way a lady in white can be) maybe she and Lenore got found out and were killed together, or something happened and they made a suicide pact of sorts (this one I'm not super fond of, but it makes some sense to me so I'm putting it in). It's also possible that in her spectral form, she has a deeper understanding, whether a subconscious thought, feeling, or something else entirely. Her and Lenore's situation is so unique and complex that many things are possible here, we just don't know.

It's important to note that these are loose theories without research, just my mind making connections for entertainment. Let me know if y'all agree, disagree, or have something to add on! Thanks for reading this far

[didherodown]

Didherodown's Official Danny Phantom episode recommendations

(for the fan who has never seen the series but is in the phandom)

Ordered in sequence of release (taken from imdb, so take that as you will)

Very Important episodes will be noted like this Episodes I think are fun and kinda important like this

enjoy!

Season 1: Has a lot of groundwork for the show, lots of introductions to our cast of Ghosts

Mystery Meat - E1

Where it all started, establishes Sam and Tuckers rivalry over food, our first encounter with the Lunch Lady, and Danny’s first outing as a hero in general

Episodes 2-6 : feature introductions to Dora, Skulker, Technus, Point Dexter, and Desiree 

Bitter Reunions - E7

Our introduction to Vlad! Establishes Vlad vs Danny dynamic, Vlad's hate of Jack and his obsession with Maddie

Prisoners of Love - E8 is our intro to Walker

My Brothers Keeper - E9

Spectra makes her appearance! Shows a lot of Danny’s insecurities he has about being different, an outsider, ect.  And Jazz finds out Danny's identity!

Shades of Gray - E10 

Our first meeting of Valerie, and where her life gets ruined by Cujo!

Fanning the Flames - E11 is our intro to Ember

Maternal Instincts - E17 

Vlad is up to his scheming and tries to get both Danny and Maddie to join him and abandon Jack. (Introduces the Specter Deflector gadget, as well the the Plasmius Maximus)

The Million Dollar Ghost - E19

Vlad puts a bounty on Danny Phantom, making lots and lots of ghost hunters show up- including the GIW

Control Freaks - E20

Circus Gothica! The ringmaster- Freakshow- has a staff that he uses to control ghosts and Danny of course falls victim 

Season 2: Has a lot of bangers- and is very heavy in the Danny Lore AND where a lot of fannon comes from (ghost king, trans danny, pharaoh tuck, ect)

Reign Storm - E4

In which Pariah Dark is awoken and goes on a rampage, sucking Amity Park into the Ghost zone. With the other ghosts also terrified of the Ghost King, Danny might be the only who has a chance to stop him (ghost king danny anyone????)

The Ultimate Enemy - E6

Danny cheats on a test, which we find out actually will end the world. Our introduction to Clockwork and the Eyeball Guys(™). And of course, Danny’s future evil self- Dan !!

King Tuck - E7

Where Tucker gets influenced by Hotep-Ra (origin of the Pharaoh Tucker fannon)

Identity Crisis - E8

Where we learn that simply splitting Danny from his ghost half is not an option, his ghost half is indeed half of him

Flirting with Disaster - E11

Where Danny and Valerie are dating. In this episode her original ghost fighting suit is destroyed and Technus makes her a new version- leading to lots of fannon about Valerie being a little more ghost than she thought

Kindred Spirits - E14

Cloning! Danielle! AHHHHHHH!!!! (trans Danny? All but confirmed /hj)

Reality Trip - E17

Where Freakshow is searching for the stones of the Reality Gauntlet (very reminiscent of the Infinity Gauntlet from Marvel)

Season 3: Often the most criticized of the three seasons, the show was canceled in this season. BUT THERE IS SO MUCH IMPORTANT LORE IN THIS ONE LETS GO

Infinite Realms - E2

Our first meeting with Frostbite! Also tells us a lot about how natural portals work AND the introduction of blood blossoms

Torrent of Terror - E4

Introduces Vortex, also Danny's mood affects the weather for a good part of this episode

Urban Jungle - E6

Undergrowth has taken over amity, making Sam his “Queen” because of her love and care of plants. THIS IS WHERE WE FIRST SEE DANNY’S ICE POWERS! AND WE LEARN ABOUT CORES! YES REALLY ONLY 6 EPISODES FROM THE END

Boxed Up Fury - E8

The Box ghost, upset at not being taken seriously- steals Pandora's Box, and well, that goes about as good as you imagine it going

D-Stablized - E11

Dani is literally dissolving into ectoplasm, and Danny has to find a way to save her before she destabilizes all the way. (Introduces Ecto Dejecto- a fanfic staple)

Now this is just my personal list- based on 20 years of being in this fandom (holy shit how can it be that long????)

Thanks for reading :)

[mya-valentine]

The Gallery of the Grotesque

Synopsis: Mahito proudly introduces you to his cursed spirits, viewing them as his creations and "children."

The air felt heavy the moment you stepped into the darkened domain, the eerie atmosphere thick with an overwhelming sense of dread. It clung to your skin like damp mist, making every hair on your body stand on end. Mahito, ever the playful sadist, watched you with a twisted grin that spread across his pale face, his gray eyes shimmering with mischief.

“Welcome,” he purred, his voice melodic yet sinister, like the notes of a broken music box. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. I think it’s time you meet my… family.”

You weren’t sure what you had gotten yourself into. Spending time with Mahito was always a gamble; his unpredictable nature kept you constantly on edge. But something about him—his bizarre charisma, his uncanny charm—kept pulling you back. Now, here you were, standing at the threshold of his grotesque sanctuary, curiosity gnawing at you despite the unease in your gut.

The room you entered was cavernous, lit by a dim, sickly green glow emanating from strange, crystalline structures embedded in the walls. Shadows danced and twisted around you, forming shapes that seemed almost alive. The ground underfoot was uneven, a patchwork of cracked tiles and organic material that pulsed faintly, as if it had a heartbeat.

Mahito gestured for you to follow him, his movements graceful and fluid, like a predator stalking its prey. “Come, come. They’ve been dying to meet you.”

You hesitated, your mind screaming at you to turn around and leave. But your feet betrayed you, drawn forward by a mix of fear and morbid fascination.

The first cursed spirit appeared out of the darkness like a specter, its grotesque form illuminated by the dim light. It was humanoid in shape but distorted, with elongated limbs and a face that seemed to melt and reform constantly. Its eyes glowed faintly, fixed on you with an unsettling intensity.

“This,” Mahito said with a theatrical flourish, “is Retch. I made him during one of my more… creative moments. He’s a bit shy, but don’t let that fool you. He’s quite the chatterbox once you get to know him.”

The creature let out a low, guttural sound that might have been a greeting, though it was difficult to tell. You forced a smile, unsure of what else to do.

Mahito crouched down next to Retch, running his fingers affectionately along its warped head. “Isn’t he beautiful? Look at those curves, the way his skin practically drips off him. A true masterpiece.”

You swallowed hard, your stomach churning. “Uh… yeah. Very… unique.”

Mahito’s grin widened, clearly pleased by your response. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Come, there’s more!”

He practically dragged you deeper into the room, where more of his creations awaited. Each one was more horrifying than the last, a parade of monstrosities born from Mahito’s twisted imagination. There was a spider-like creature with human faces embedded in its abdomen, their mouths moving soundlessly. A massive, slug-like entity with arms instead of antennae, reaching out as if to grab you. And then there was one that appeared almost human, its body eerily perfect save for the gaping hole where its face should have been.

Mahito introduced each of them with the enthusiasm of a proud parent showing off a child’s school project. “This one is Chitter. And that—oh, you’ll love this one—that’s Mire. Look at the way his spine juts out! Isn’t it exquisite?”

You nodded numbly, your mind struggling to process what you were seeing. Despite the grotesque nature of his creations, Mahito’s genuine pride was almost endearing in a twisted way. He spoke of them as if they were living, breathing beings with thoughts and feelings, and for all you knew, maybe they were.

As he led you to the centerpiece of his collection, Mahito’s demeanor shifted. He became almost reverent, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. “And here… here is my magnum opus. My pride and joy.”

The creature before you was enormous, its body a swirling mass of flesh and limbs that seemed to shift and merge endlessly. Faces emerged and disappeared across its surface, their expressions frozen in silent screams. It was both horrifying and mesmerizing, a living nightmare that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“This,” Mahito said softly, “is Amalgam. It took me months to perfect. Every detail, every contour… all of it crafted by my own hands.”

He turned to you, his eyes alight with a strange, childlike excitement. “What do you think? Isn’t it magnificent?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s… incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Mahito’s grin returned, his face lighting up with joy. “I knew you’d understand. You’re different from the others. You see the beauty in my work, the artistry.”

He stepped closer to you, his presence almost overwhelming. “That’s why I wanted to show you this. My creations, my children… they’re an extension of me. And now, they’re a part of you too.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but before you could ask, he reached out and took your hand. His touch was surprisingly warm, his fingers curling around yours with a gentleness that caught you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “For seeing me. For seeing them.”

For a moment, the terror and unease melted away, replaced by a strange sense of connection. Mahito’s world was one of chaos and destruction, but in his own twisted way, he had shared a part of himself with you.

And as you stood there, surrounded by his grotesque creations, you couldn’t help but feel that you had crossed a line you could never return from.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[girlwithhat]

I must be truly in the fandom now after I surprised myself by writing a Granada fic over the course of the weekend!

TITLE: Beloved's Ghost

SUMMARY: After Holmes' death at the Falls, Watson falls gravely ill while working nonstop through his grief. He’s visited in his feverish state by Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft, and…Sherlock Holmes?

NOTES: I think either Watson works for this - depends on when during the hiatus you place it. When writing, my mind started off with David Burke at the beginning but then ended with Edward Hardwicke.

In the weeks following Holmes’ untimely death, once I moved out of our Baker Street rooms, I threw myself into work against my better judgement, giving all my care to my patients and saving none for myself. Expectedly, one can only survive on tea, toast, and willpower for a short time before the weight of grief and exhaustion comes calling. The weather as of late had aggravated my old wounds compounded with exposure to patients plagued by fever and respiratory distress day in and day out. Falling ill swiftly, I was in such a terrible way that I was found slumped over my desk in my consulting room, mumbling whether I should have gone over the falls as well.

Though I slipped in and out of consciousness much during this prolonged illness, I was comforted by the fact that I was not as alone as I believed. I could count on seeing Lestrade; he read the newspaper and commented on cases that he wished Holmes and I could have assisted on. Sometimes Mycroft Holmes deviated from his routine to sit in silence that ranged from awkward to companionable for I knew his love for his deceased brother made his presence at my bedside a duty. Though I was no longer her tenant, Mrs. Hudson still insisted on fussing over me, bringing fortifying broth and extra blankets to my room above my surgery. Dr. Moore Agar made sure I was a compliant patient and administered sleeping draughts to ensure I received sufficient rest.

In between these familiar visits, I saw him. It was always the same: someone I did not recognize would stand by my bedside, blow the candles out, then become him with a worried look, a gentle touch, maybe a sigh before disappearing yet again. I must have been close to death to have my dear Holmes in my presence at those times.

“My dear Watson, do not leave me.” He said. This was the first time the spirit chose to speak to me in the darkness. A small candle illuminated half his face as he drew near.

“But you left me,” I murmured. Just his visage was enough to bring tears unbidden to my eyes tonight. Brave face discarded in my illness, the wounds of grief, tender still, threatened to open again at these appearances. I did not foresee them healing for a long time as his presence ever lingered.

A brush of cool fingers wiped away my tears. “Your current condition surprises me. There were hopes you were on the mend.”

“Still gripped by lethargy and despondency. Admittedly, my heart is more sick than my head,” said I, the truth coming to the surface in my delirium, “Your specter is both a comfort and a torture, Holmes.”

“A selfish act on my part. My continued weakness brings me here, to indulge the compulsion in the darkness. I fear I’ve caused you more pain, my devoted friend.”

“I fear the day when my mind ceases to conjure you up.”

“Truly? I would imagine it would be an improvement.”

“No no, but even then, my heart would keep you close.”

“Why?” He asked in a whisper. It was as if the ghost was having trouble understanding the depth of my attachment to the man he was.

“You know why. Forever my nearest and dearest…my Holmes."

“Nearest and dearest,” He repeated, reaching out to stroke my cheek tenderly, “I must go.”

“Must you?” 

“I…you will see me again. In time.”

As the emotion of this conversation took a toll on my depleted energy, I could feel the pull of slumber on my consciousness as my eyelids grew heavy. “Holmes..."

“Shhh…” I then felt the lightest touch of lips upon mine. “That is a promise.” 

I awoke sometime later feeling much better, my latest fever broken after having voiced my deepest feelings to the universe in the form of my beloved’s ghost. I knew Holmes would have been pleased he helped me regain my health in some capacity after all the times I looked after him. Once recovered, I resolved to take better care of myself. While his spirit brought me comfort, I did not desire to join Holmes so soon. I would see him again, in time. Till then, every night after my last patient, I would reverently read Holmes’ last letter framed in my consulting room, thinking back to his ghost’s kiss which felt so real.

[docgold13]

Heroes & Villains The DC Animated Universe - Paper Cut-Out Portraits and Profiles

Bruce Wayne (Beyond)

A lifetime of crimefighting took its tole on Bruce Wayne, both in body and spirit.  By his sixties, Bruce continued to operate as Batman protecting the streets of Gotham.  He utilized a bionically enhanced suit to compensate for his advanced age and waning physicality.  Many of his colleagues had passed away or retired and those who had not were long since alienated by Bruce’s myopic obsession to his never ending mission.  

He experienced a heart attack while saving a hostage and, in a moment of desperation, he nearly used a discarded gun to shoot an attacker.  Taking a life was antithetical to all that he stood for and the shock of almost having done so was enough to convince Bruce that it was finally time to retire.  As such, he hung up his suit, shut down the Batcave and all but disappeared from the world.  The specter of Batman faded into a myth.

He lived in seclusion for many years, holed up in Wayne Manner with no one but his dog for company.  And it would have remained that way had fate not intervened.  Young Terry McGinnis happened upon Wayne Manner while investigating the murder of his father.  Headstrong and persistent, Terry discovered Bruce’s secret, that he had once been the legendary Batman.  The youth ended up stealing the enhanced batsuit and using it in his effort to avenge his father.  Bruce tried to stop him, yet something had been set in motion that was not going to stop.  Gotham still needed a Batman and the world was not done with Bruce Wayne.  

Working together, Bruce and Terry became the new Batman, a ‘Tomorrow Knight’ who brought justice back to Gotham; with Terry in the field and Bruce providing support and guidance from the reactivated Batcave.  And while Bruce aided Terry in learning to become a superhero, so too did Terry aid Bruce, helping him in healing old wounds and reconnecting with the world.  Bruce reconciled with his former colleagues, Barbara Gordon and Tim Drake, as also seized back control of his company from the corporate vultures who had taken it from him.  

Bruce had been a surrogate father to many individuals: Barbara, Tim and Dick Grayson; and was doing so again with Terry.  Ironically, it would later be revealed that Terry was actually his biological son as well.  A furtive plan arranged by Amanda Waller resulted in Terry’s mother being secretly impregnated with Bruce’s genetic material.  

This revelation was a shock to them both and it acted to motivate Bruce to encourage Terry to seek out the happiness that had always eluded him.  The mission was important, but not all that was important and a life of singular focus ultimately leads to regret.  

Ultimately Terry chose to marry his longtime love, Dana Tan.  He would never be as great a Batman as his father, but he would be a happier man with a more fulfilling life.  And what more could a father want for his son?

The immortal Kevin Conroy provided the voice for Bruce Wayne with this older iteration of the hero first appearing int he premier episode of Batman Beyond.     

[infinite-riches]

I Was Good Until I Turned Thirteen

Summary: At twenty-five I found god. And guilt. He was tall, broad, well-built. Blonde hair and blonde lashes that framed whiskey-colored eyes so perfectly. He was my dream. And my nightmare. Crushing guilt crashed over me. Unnatural. Unholy. Disgusting. Despicable.

Or: Soap struggles with his religion

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Word Count: 666

Warnings: Catholic guilt, implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced oral sex, internalized homophobia

A/N: This piece pulls heavily from my experience with religion and the thoughts I struggled with growing out of religion and into my queerness.

To anyone who relates please know you are seen and accepted and loved. Ancient religious texts or backward ideologies do not define you.

You can find me on twitter @Kit_Marlowe1564 if you need someone to talk to.

All my love <3

AO3 Link (if you prefer): I Was Good Until I Turned Thirteen

I was good until I turned thirteen. Then, something started to change. I am not sure exactly when. Or why. 

It must have just been the growth that comes with change. 

The good book didn’t mean as much to me anymore. I had questions I never had before. Questions I never would have dared ask before. Questions I am sure damned my thirteen-year-old self to hell. 

Fourteen showed me the depths of human cruelty. I didn’t think we were supposed to pray against our fellow man. At night I cried and tried to soothe my soul. If they could be so cruel to strangers, what would they do to me? Would they cast stones as their ancestors did? Would they cast me out?

I think at fifteen I stopped trying to save myself from hell. It's not that I didn’t care, but it seemed that an unchangeable part of me would always be damned. And who am I to fight an unstoppable event? I am not burdened as Sisyphus is. I do not have to bear punishment every day for the simple act of existing. I can choose not to suffer. 

By sixteen I was scared of the joy and freedom I felt without a faceless god breathing down my neck. This freedom terrified me. This is when I started to find people like me. We lived quietly, taking care of our own, helping each other through the pain. If people knew what I had learned of myself… I never let that thought finish. 

Seventeen faced me with a choice. I chose to run. Legal name signed on crisp white paper. A new home address assigned to me. Pulled far apart from my family. Like Velcro, pulling until I came completely untethered from those I had always known. 

Eighteen. I was on my own. No one knew me here. For the first time, I could breathe. 

At nineteen I stumbled headfirst into a mistake. Gnashing teeth and strong grips. Harsh words and desperation. I was searching for a god where I could never find one. God would not wear down my spirit so. At least… not my god. My god would accept me. Love me. 

Twenty felt like a mistake. Kneeling felt sacrilegious. Receiving them upon my tongue like communion felt like betrayal. There were not enough Hail Marys to save my soul. 

Twenty-one through twenty-four was life. Or at least what I thought life should be. There always seemed to be a shadow looming over me. Disgusted glances. Hate-filled words. Maybe I had made a mistake. Maybe god was coming back to claim what once was his. 

At twenty-five I found god. And guilt. He was tall, broad, well-built. Blonde hair and blonde lashes that framed whiskey-colored eyes so perfectly. He was my dream. And my nightmare. Crushing guilt crashed over me. Unnatural. Unholy. Disgusting. Despicable. 

Johnny.

At twenty-six I let myself be free. I turned to this faceless specter torturing me with empty threats and banished it. My god loved Kentucky bourbon and awful jokes. His touch was like fire and his words a cooling balm to my burning soul. He worshiped me. 

I gladly fell to my knees in worship of him. Took him upon my tongue as the blessing it was. I had no need for Hail Marys, he saved my soul with every breath. 

Johnny.

So beautiful.

Lover.

My dove.

Mine. 

And I worshipped him.

Simon.

So handsome. 

Darling.

My love.

Mine. 

And he knows. The little ‘RC’ still adorns my tags. The cross my mother gave me still hangs heavy around my neck- a noose I can not bear to take off.

And when the guilt threatens to overtake me? To drown me? He is there, pulling me from the waves. Telling me that there is no shame here, where it is safe, between us. 

And one day, the flames will not bother me at all. But for now, I know my god will be there to tend the burns. 

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases Mar. 11, 2025

23:45 (manga) by Ohana

Two months after moving to Tokyo, college freshman Iku is living his otaku nerd life to the fullest. There’s just one problem: he’s started being able to see ghosts. One spirit in particular, a young man about Iku’s age, spends day after day standing on the pedestrian bridge on the way to Iku’s apartment. Though determined to live and let not-live unnoticed, Iku accidentally bumps into the handsome phantom and soon ends up with the very chat-deprived spirit of Mimori Seo haunting his apartment. Not long after, Iku notices that every night at 23:45, Mimori is drawn by some mysterious force back to the bridge and forced to repeat the fall that made him a ghost in the first place. Will Mimori be stuck in this loop forever, or can Iku find a way to save this specter from an eternity of unending tragedy?

At 25:00 in Akasaka (manga) vol. 3 by Hiroko Natsuno

The young actor Yuki Shirasaki has moved in with the superstar Asami Hayama. Everything has been going well for the two of them as a couple, but work is a different matter. Nothing about Shirasaki’s performance works in his new director’s eyes. He’s determined to work through this on his own and won’t accept Hayama’s help. This work anxiety is about to seep into Shirasaki and Hayama’s relationship too. Because how can Hayama love Shirasaki when the superstar can’t understand the newbie’s struggles?

The Big Apple (manhwa) vol. 2 by Harusari with art by Hodot

The Knights Templar are on the hunt for Joachim! He’s managed to evade them twice now, but how much longer can he fly under the radar? Meanwhile, the sniper’s got more important things vying for his attention - like meeting up with Juergen to take care of some… unfinished business.

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card (manga) vol. 16 by CLAMP

Sakura and Syaoran make their way into the false moon only to discover that the flow of time within is completely broken! Nevertheless, they follow their pocket watch toward an imprisoned dragon. Now, Sakura must recite an incredibly powerful spell and rally her friends as the Clear Card arc races toward its thrilling conclusion!

Fake Fact Lips (manga) by Machi Suehiro

Ryou and Zen are two men who hate to lose–especially to each other. From high school rivals to rival co-workers, these two men have always been locked in fierce competition. They’ve competed over grades, sports, and even the number of Valentine’s chocolates received! And now that they’re salesmen at the same company, their rivalry has reignited. One night, while out for drinks, the two begin arguing about who’s more experienced in love. Suddenly, their newest competition is set: the winner is whoever makes the other fall in love with them first! But will this competition of hearts really lead to a win or something far more complicated?

How to Deal When Your Intimidating Neighbor is Actually an Omega (manga) by Nikuya Inui

“He looks like a cold and handsome Alpha… who'd ever think he was actually a twisted and sexy Omega!” Kota is a college student, and an Alpha. Still, he dreads bumping into his neighbor, a super-intimidating hunk with big, black tattoos. He always assumed this mystery man was an Alpha, too, and avoided him like the plague… until, one day, a scent wafts in so powerful it puts even the dull-headed Kota in a daze. It’s the scent of Omega pheromones, from next door! He assumes his neighbor’s brought an Omega home, but when he tries to leave, what should he find but the source of the pheromones: his hot neighbor! How will he get out of this situation unscathed, and without his neighbor finding out he’s a virgin?!

Megumi & Tsugumi (manga) vol. 5 by Mitsuru Si

Alpha Megumi is finally getting to have a heart-to-heart with his father over dinner about his omega boyfriend, Tsugumi. But when he arrives at the designated restaurant, he finds he’s been set up on a blind date with his love rival, Inami! Before things can get too heated, Tsugumi barges in, but instead of flying off the handle, he bows and asks Megumi’s father to hear him out. Later, when their respective families finally meet, all hell breaks loose, causing Tsugumi to announce… he’s transferring to Kokonoe Academy?!

Turns Out My Online Friend is My Real-Life Boss! (manga) vol. 3 by Nmura

It’s been one year since office worker Hashimoto began dating his boss, Shirase. After the miraculous turn of events where it “turned out that his online friend was actually his real-life boss,” their relationship started off rocky and awkward. But after a year of dating and living together, the two are happier than ever! Their lives have finally started to feel natural, and the cool-headed Shirase even seems to have a passionate side that emerges at unexpected times! Hashimoto can’t believe just how loved he is, and he finally gets a chance to enjoy the happy life they’ve made for themselves. But when doubts begin to surface, Hashimoto starts losing his confidence in the face of his absolutely perfect boyfriend, Shirase! In order to take another step forward, Hashimoto decides to become…more assertive?!

Wails of the Bound: Beta (manga) vol. 3 by Keri Kusabi

Omega Sumito Sasabe finally found himself an Alpha to Mate, fulfilling his lifelong goal and ridding himself of his awful Heats. So why then does his newly mated status hurt so badly? For the Beta Shingo Utou, as long as Sasabe is happy, he’s happy… though his true feelings are much more painful and complicated than that. Even though Sasabe’s body may only crave the touch of his new Mate, his heart is a different story. And what of Sasabe’s new Mate, Shiratori? Were his intentions with Sasabe as genuine as they initially seemed?

[localthumbcache]

Your askbox hates to see me coming, well TOO DAMN BAD, I demand INFORMATION! Please.🥺

I'm gonna sound greedy as fuck, but god, I love your little gang of misfits so much, so 1 for your iconic Ghost/Gnome Hunting Crew! 34 for Phi and 52 for Max! The way I could send the whole damn list for Max...

'Scuse me!!! My ask box *loves to see you coming!!!!!! Also pls i will literally post the whole list for u (after others get a chance tho)

[1] What first impression do they typically make? Are they likeable from the get go, or take time to grow on people?

Phi - She's laid-back with spirited energy, which makes her captivating and fun to be around. She immediately made a lot of friends when she moved to Ravenwood, so ye she's generally likeable :) It can take some time for her to open up about real tough shit, tho (cursed her w the "depressed and traumatized class clown with a hard home life" archetype :[ )

Liv - She has charming, flirtatious, and slightly mysterious energy. She's delightful to be around, and there's something about her that makes people spill their guts even when they haven't known her for long. She's just very comforting and non-judgemental :) her personality and pretty face will make you believe in love again

Nyon - Intimidating! Gives off the vibe that he hates you for talking to him, when really he's just scared (almost like a feral cat lolol). Many people have mistaken his anxiety for snobbishness (writing from personal experience...)

Max (saved him last for you >:))(i typed a lot whoops) - He definitely leaves an... impression. Some people accept him, others are humored by him, some dislike him bc there's something "off" abt him, but most feel a mix of these things. His energy is like saying bye to someone but you both end up going the same way. Despite his awkwardness tho, he adopted Guidrys confident way of speaking, so he'll casually tell you about the 5 demonic entities that live inside his body (for science) like that's a normal Saturday afternoon activity. He doesn't realize that he's overshared until afterward. He doesn't usually mask (which hes bad at) but he does so in large group settings/gatherings. None of his stupid jokes land, yet he's unintentionally funny.

[52] Do they speak any other languages aside from their own?

Max is very fluent in Selvadoradian/aka Spanish!

[34] Do they have vices they don't want others to know about? (Tw sh)

Phi and her razor blades :( Her mental health is complex, one im still trying to get down (so excuse me while I try to figure it out...)

The death of her parents and the mother plant incident fucked her. She cuts to feel something, anything but grief, and to control something that plagued her life. She does it to spite death. She isnt suicidal because grim hasn't earned her yet, but if she were to die, she'd want it to happen on her own terms. Her thrill-seeking ways are a way for her to turn off her mind, but also a way to taunt grim. She wants to live her life to the fullest purely out of spite and for her lost loved ones, but sometimes she doesn't have the energy to move.

She's angry. But she also blames herself.

She's the only Specter who doesn't like grim, yet he's the only thing that truly makes her feel alive. She isn't actively suicidal (definitely passively), but she continuously seeks him out just to say "fuck you. I'm still alive, bitch."

Liv is so scared that she'll find her dead one day.

foreshadowing?

[hexheathen]

The Broken Chain – The Brother (The Twins AU) (Victor being the big sibling)

I had a brainworm about whether the twins' situations were different, and I needed to get it out of my system. So here it is! TW: Death and poorly done surgery

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

Victor and Charlotte Deshayes were born as one—conjoined at the ribs, two halves of a single life. He was the strong one, the protector, the one who carried their shared weight, while Charlotte was the quiet shadow at his side. Their mother, Madeline, whispered to them of witches and ghosts, of hidden magic in the blood, but none of her stories saved her when the witch hunters came.

They fled, as they always had, but the world is cruel to those who are different. It was Victor they feared. It was Charlotte they pitied.

Taken in by a traveling doctor promising "miracles," Victor was given an impossible choice: to be free, he must be alone.

The saw was brutal. The process unclean. There was no medicine strong enough to numb the pain. Victor screamed, his fingers slipping against Charlotte’s blood as they pulled her from him. She didn’t cry, didn’t thrash—only looked at him with wide, betrayed eyes as her breath turned ragged.

Then, nothing.

She was gone.

And yet…

Even as Victor healed, something remained. The aching space at his ribs, the cold that never left his side. Whispers curled through the dark when he was alone, a voice that was not his own.

Charlotte had never left him.

At first, she was a shadow in the corner of his vision. Then, the shape of a hand brushing against his shoulder. And when he woke in the night, her arms wrapped around him—cold, wet, stained with blood, but still there.

She did not hate him.

But she would never let him go.

When the Fog called, Victor did not hesitate.

Now, they hunt together once more—but their bond is twisted, broken, and unholy. Victor walks in flesh, strong and vengeful, while Charlotte lingers in the liminal space between death and existence, a specter bound to his every step. She does not forgive, and she does not forget.

Together, they will never be apart again.

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

Killer Power – "Unbroken Bond"

Victor and Charlotte exist as one, even in death. Victor moves in flesh, a towering brute, while Charlotte haunts the realm, bound to him in ethereal form.

Primary Ability – "Phantom Echo"

Victor lets out a deep, guttural growl, summoning Charlotte’s ghost to emerge from his ribs.

Charlotte phases toward the nearest survivor within 32 meters, her ghostly wail Exposing them for 10 seconds.

If a survivor is within 8 meters of Charlotte’s manifestation, they are Hindered (15% slow) for 4 seconds.

Secondary Ability – "Vengeful Grasp"

Victor can release Charlotte’s spirit from his body, sending her forward through walls and obstacles toward a targeted survivor.

If Charlotte reaches them, she claws at their soul, inflicting Torment:

Torment causes all skill checks to become reversed and speeds up their progress by 10%, making them easier to fail.

Survivors hear Charlotte’s whispers growing louder and louder, masking nearby terror radius sounds.

If a Tormented survivor is hooked, Charlotte lingers at the hook, causing unhooking to take 10% longer.

Passive Ability – "Bound by Blood"

When Victor downs a survivor, Charlotte lets out a banshee-like scream, causing all other injured survivors to scream and reveal their locations for 2 seconds.

If Charlotte successfully lands a hit, Victor moves 5% faster for 6 seconds.

Perks

1. "Severed Flesh"

"I had to do it. I had to. She knows that, doesn’t she?"

Whenever you pick up a survivor, gain Undetectable for 8 seconds.

If a survivor is hooked within 16 meters of another injured survivor, that survivor suffers from Blindness for 12 seconds.

2. "Unfinished Surgery"

"The wound never fully healed. The pain never left."

Survivors suffer from Mangled for 20/25/30 seconds after healing from the injured state.

If a survivor uses a Medkit to fully heal themselves, they suffer Exhaustion for 6 seconds.

3. "Clinging Shadow"

"She was never meant to leave my side."

If you are further than 40 meters from a hooked survivor, gain 5% increased movement speed until you move within range.

Survivors unhooking within 10 meters of you suffer from Oblivious for 8/10/12 seconds.

[alto-tenure]

The Specter of Misthallery, allusions, and narrative framing

Professor Layton and the Last Specter alludes to the fact that, of course, this is not the first specter to have been in Misthallery -- the specter is, in fact, a much older fairytale, the nature of which is, just as with most folklore, impossible to verify.

The nature of fairytales is such that they often get distorted by those who are telling them, and then those distortions continue to be passed onwards to generations afterwards, and new distortions evolve. The way characters tell the story of Misthallery's specter tells us things about them, too, and the parts they play in the story.

Long ago, in a lawless age, a pack of bandits invaded a small village. Amidst the chaos, a terrified young farm girl played her flute to drown out the madness. As the music spiralled high into the sky, a giant spectre appeared above her. She begged the spectre to destroy the bandits and it swiftly obeyed. The town was saved, and the spectre vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. But the farm girl knew that in times of danger she needed only to play the flute and the spectre would appear again.

This is, of course, Descole's narration from his first appearance. He is taking advantage of the legend of the specter, and seems to be reading from a book during this cutscene.

The specter is unequivocally a force for good the way Descole words the tale. The specter is the girl's savior. It's a bit of intrigue, but also...the way it's portrayed here feels like a very obvious allusion to Arianna and Loosha, for which Loosha is very much Arianna's savior, getting her to the Golden Garden so that she can live. Descole also says after this that it's time for them to "pen the next chapter". He is using the myth of the specter on purpose to smokescreen his true intentions of unearthing the Golden Garden. He means neither to help the villagers or hurt them -- he only has his own agenda. Of course, this isn't the last we hear of this tale...

There's a legend here that tells of an ancient spirit… A specter. When the town was in danger, the specter would act as Misthallery's guardian in its moment of need.

This is how Clark tells the tale. Note its brevity compared to Descole's telling (or Luke's, later on). When the town is in danger, the specter acts to protect it. It is more general than Descole's telling, but is more in line with Luke's version of the events. His portrayal of the specter of lore is fairly bare-bones, but enough to understand that Descole's version is nothing more than a false echo. Something that he understands more than the people of Misthallery, considering that he knows more about the specter due to the blackmailing.

Long ago, the villagers used a flute to call upon a spectre for protection from their enemies… So, if the spectre does the bidding of whoever plays the flute… Then someone is trying to destroy Misthallery! "If the spectre is ever used for impure motives, it shall unleash its wrath upon humanity. It will destroy all in its path, creating its own paradise."

Luke's telling of the tale centers around the idea that the world will end if the specter is used to cause harm -- his telling fuses both ideas from Descole's (the flute is used to summon the specter and control it) and Clark's (the specter was there for the town at large, not for one specific person it was bonded to). This suggests that Luke is familiar with the version that appears in the book (after all, the book is likely from the Triton library), but he's filtering what he remembers through the lens of his anxieties around the specter attacks, his mother's disappearance, and his father's behavior. He expects the world to end because of the connection to the tale.

(And, of course, the connections to Azran Legacy can't be ignored here -- everything destroyed to carve out paradise for the villain of a story.)

The truth is, as always, a complicated affair -- there is no such things as specters, only machines fighting monsters -- but it is likely that the story started out with a specter that protects the village. The version in the book has probably gone through several layers of generational filtering, but its relevance to the narrative remains.

[shokuto]

District Zero / The Boys and the Keg

“Why’d you say Spider-Man was gonna be there?!” Miles asks sharply once he and Ganke are walking through the parking lot.

He shrugs, not even looking at him. “We were losing her; we needed a hook.”

“If partying in a big ass house nobody lives in isn’t enough of a hook, why bother? It’s only one girl.”

“It’s not one girl, it’s Amala Macendale!” Ganke reasons. “It’s her, her friends, and her friends’ friends. That’s huge!”

Miles rolls his eyes. His friend’s starting to sound like a club promoter. “I don’t think she has friends.”

“Of course she does, she’s like, student body president. How’d she get voted in if she doesn’t have—“

When they finally hit the minivan, Ganke freezes; there’s a liquor store across the street, and near the front door is a scuffed up metal case bearing a steel tap at the top. He quickly taps Miles’ shoulder with the hand not holding a plastic bag before he points at it.

“Dude, that’s a keg,” he gasps in astonishment.

Miles pauses before he can enter the car, blankly looking over the hood. “Of beer?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“…So what now?”

There’s a second where they both just stand there, gawking across the street. That’s when Ganke taps his shoulder again. “You gotta go grab it.”

Miles sighs again, already exasperated with the sudden turn of events. “Dude, no—”

“You’re the only one who can carry it!”

“That’s stealing,” he says firmly.

“So?” Ganke sets his hands on his shoulders with the urgency of a man begging a fireman to save his baby. “If we don’t have any beer at this thing, we’re gonna be losers forever! It’s one keg! They probably have a hundred more in the back and it’s only a matter of time before they bring it in!”

Miles exhales in annoyance, but considers Ganke’s warning more than he’d like. He’s split firmly between the selfish teenager his friend desperately appeals to, and the little boy inside him who’s internalized every repeated warning to not get into trouble, to follow every rule as closely as possible because there’d always be a book waiting to be thrown at him around every corner. He eyes the keg, then through the window of the store, the guy inside who presumably has to bring it in eventually.

And it is stealing.

But…

They’re throwing something big…and they’re not kids anymore. People their age going to parties don’t go to relax; they go to get fucked up. It’s all he hears and it’s all he sees in the movies.

They even got the red cups and everything now! Plastic cups Miles only now realizes were never gonna be filled with soda.

“It’s either this or we’re cooked,” Ganke pleads.

Quietly, Miles contemplates the lunch periods they’ve spent alone growing up. Every inside joke passed around set cliques that they weren’t a part of, and every classmate who ever took a shot at them or made their friendship out to be something weird ‘cause it was funny. ‘Cause guys like them were easy targets.

Some of those same people would probably be milling about the house Ganke’s mom had just closed the deal on, piss drunk on beer they brought and laughing madly beneath flashing lights they put up. There’s dozens of little jabs they’ve collected over the years, jabs that taught them it was better to keep to themselves lest they add up to even more down the line if nothing changed.

But he could practically see it all evaporate tonight, over music so loud they felt it in their bones and chants so spirited they could summon specters.

He even pictures himself sharing the tap with the pretty girl from homecoming, the one with a voice like silk and a rasp to it that reminded him of a bass string. However heartbroken he may be over Katie, he’s still embarrassingly weak for an easy smile. He’s still a guy.

A minute later, Miles is hefting a metal keg over his shoulder and bolting for the car like a fireman carrying an invalid to safety. His first ever five finger discount.

“Start it up, start it up!” He shouts.

The engine of the shabby old minivan growls to life just as Miles barrels into the backseat, immediately closing the door behind him.

Then they’re off.

“Holy shit,” Ganke gasps behind the wheel, breathing heavy like he was the one doing the running.

And despite himself, Miles feels himself joining in too. He can’t be bothered to drum up any possible theft charges, any tidbits from the stern talking to from his dad would give him if he saw. Instead, he visualizes the gated community of District Zero, lit up like Disneyland.

“This shit’s gonna be crazy,” He mutters warmly.

[gamerkitten]

Reunion

He had to be dead. 

Maybe he had caught a bullet from a lucky merc and this was his brain tormenting him in his last moments.

"Shepard?" 

"Garrus, is that you?"

She looked the same. Same dark hair, piled atop her head in a bun; sweat pasting escaped tendrils to her face. Her eyes were the same shade of amber, her face marred by a few scars but still sprinkled with freckles a slightly darker shade of brown then the rest of her skin.

But she was dead.

The message reaches him at home, on Palaven, his omni-tool beeping frantically. Seeing it's from Joker, he ignores it with a mental reminder to reply later. Right now, he's in the middle of cleaning his rifle.

"Garrus!"

His sister, Solana comes rushing into his room and he knows that something is wrong.

"Sol, what is it," he rises, leaning the gun against the wall, "is it mom?"

"Garrus," her voice is steady but her sub-vocals tell him she's anything but," Garrus, I'm so sorry-"

"What is it?" He snaps

Wordlessly, she crosses the room and switches on the television. The news is on and in the corner is a photo of...

"Shepard."

He struggles to make sense of what he's seeing, what he's hearing.

"It is a dark day for the galaxy," the news anchor says mournfully, " the Normandy has been destroyed with multiple casualties, including Commander Cassia Shepard, who defeated the rogue specter Saren Arcturis on the Citadel 1 month past."

The world falls away and he nearly falls with it, legs buckling beneath him only to be caught by his sister and led to his desk where he is lowered into his chair.

"Garrus-"

"I-I'm fine Sol," he hears himself say, "I just need to be alone."

"Are you sure-"

"Out."

It comes out as a growl and she takes the warning and leaves. Once she's gone, he flings a datapad across the room, tears blurring his vision.

He had just talked to her, what, two weeks ago? 

And now she was gone. He felt cold, numb. This couldn't be happening.

Tapping at his omni-tool, he pulled up Joker's message.

"Garrus, I- fuck," Joker's voice comes through, raw and ragged with greif, " I didn't want you to find out through the news. Shepard's gone. She- she got spaced when the Normandy was attacked. She saved me and- fuck man, I'm sorry."

He couldn't say what exactly happened in the weeks following that message, most of it was blurred by the wonderful amnesiac qualities of Turian brandy. Eventually that wasn't enough. He couldn't stand it, the way Sol constantly checked up on him; seeing the face of his best friend on every tv screen, knowing that he would never see her again. Never...

He returns to the Citadel and C-sec, but it isn't the same. How could it be?

The red tape that merely annoyed him before now adds to a slowly simmering rage. 

He tries, spirits, does he try. 

He tries to push against the official line that the war is over with the defeat of the Geth and Sovereign, tries to do good, tries to do his Commander proud.

Something in him snaps.

The catalyst is a smuggler, bringing red sand and spirits knows what else onto the Citadel. Red tape, too much for him to bypass, stops him from getting to him so he quits, much to his father's immense disappointment.

A little squeezing produces a name. A little more produces a place: Omega. Garrus is on the first shuttle out.

Upon landing he immediately takes down a Vorcha mugging an elderly human with a well placed hit with his rifle butt. The woman is thankful, calling him an angel;some type of human guardian spirit.

Later he finds another Turian at the Afterlife while drowning his sorrows and the two decide to take the fight to Omega's gangs.

After that, more join up until he has a squad, 12 strong, helping to clean up the streets of the space station and earning both the adoration of the locals and a new nickname: Archangel.

Adoration isn't the only thing their war earns them; credits roll in as well. His men want to take it easy, slow down, but he won't hear it. Partly because he knows they're doing good work and partly because he doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't have a target in his scope.

 He pushes too hard.

Sidonis's betrayal catches him completely off guard. Lured away with a lie of an operation, he returns to carnage. His crew lies dead or dying throughout their hideout and Sidonis is nowhere to be found. As he does his best to keep the survivors alive, he can feel the old rage coursing through his veins as he clears out the invading gang members one by one. 

Sidonis is going to pay.

He's exhausted. The bodies of his crew are starting to smell, and he's running low on ammo. He pulls the trigger and another merc falls, they've long since stopped sending their best and he's long since stopped feeling bad about the inexperienced cannon fodder being sent after him.

Still, it won't be long now.

Moving into cover, he opens his omni-tool and does something he hasn't done in a long time.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad."

"Garrus? What's that sound?"

He peers through the scope and drops another merc.

"Target practice."

"Then call back later."

"I-I don't think I'll be able to do that," he sighs, "too many targets."

"...I see."

Another merc falls but there are four more coming to take his place.

"Listen, Dad, I don't have a lot of time left," he says, popping out the heat sink, "I just wanted to tell you, you were right. About everything. I'm sorry we fought so much."

"Don't worry about that now," his father replies, to an untrained ear he might have sounded calm, "these...targets? Are they moving fast?"

"Not fast enough," he's looking through his scope again and notices a group who seem to actually know how to use cover, " but they're learning."

"Thermal clips?"

"Could always use more."

The group is on the move again, and he spies something that makes his heart skip a beat. N7 armor.

" No matter how bad things are," his father continues, " so long as you have one bullet left, you can still finish the job. Understand?"

"Yes sir." He mutters, shooting a concussive round at the mystery soldier. It knocks their helmet off, revealing a pile of raven-dark hair.

"Good, and when you finish up there you come home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out."

 His focus is now squarely on the squad making their way across the bridge; he can see her clearly in his scope, right as she fires a round into the back of a merc's head.

"Yeah, we do," he says, relief washing over him, "Dad, I've got to go, but don't worry about me. The odds just got a lot better."

"I thought you were dead."

He resisted the impulse to touch her, to make sure that she's actually real and not some pre-death hallucination, opting to sit down on a nearby crate instead.

"Garrus, what are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes bright and alive.

"Good to see you too."

She smiled up at him and he felt his stomach flip, " I'm just surprised to see you."

"Well, that makes both of us." He replied, " Still, it's good to see a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own."

"You shot me."

"Concussive rounds only, didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."

She crossed her arms, rolling her eyes in that oh so familiar way, "yeah, right."

His mandibles twitched in a smirk, "If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I would have done it. Besides, you were taking your sweet time, I had to get you moving."

She had questions, he was sure, but so did he. Not that they had time for that, not with the mercs en route. 

The decision was easy, they would hold their position and with the help of Shepard and her two companions they should be able to make a dent in the merc's resistance and haul ass out of the base.

"Alright," she said, with a grin, "let's spill a little merc blood."

"Good to see you haven't changed."

The battle was desperate, even with the help, but Garrus found himself reinvigorated; watching Shepard aim down the sights of her own rifle to his left. It was her usual spot, and he hadn't fully realized how impossible it had been to fill until she was back in it.

He took aim, and had a merc in his sights but before he could pull the trigger, their head snapped back and they dropped to the floor. 

"You stole my kill, Shepard."

"Ya snooze ya lose Vakarian," she shot back, laughing over the sound of gunfire, " besides, you've had them all to yourself, don't be greedy."

"Me? Never."

She stayed by his side for most of the fight while the other humans took out anyone that made it past their bullets,there weren't many, or made entry on the lower level. It was only when Blue Suns started streaming in that she switched to her SMG and ran off to get rid of them while he kept picking off anyone stupid enough to try and cross the bridge.

Then came the gunship.

"Damnit," he growled, reloading, "I thought I took that thing out."

A hail of bullets flew towards him as he turned to fire, taking down his shields and forcing him into cover.

"You think you can screw with the Blue Suns," taunted the pilot, "this ends now!"

Swearing, he made for cover on his left just in time to see a rocket fly in his direction. The world exploded around him and he felt himself become airborne before landing in a heap, excruciating pain radiating through his body as his vision began to darken. Somewhere above him, he heard someone screaming his name.

As he lost consciousness, he only had one thought.

I just got her back.