#I know this one is a strange (& extra spooky dark) but I’m proud of how this turned out

[kedsandtubesocks]

Prisonic Fairytale

Pyramid Head!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: You’re looking for someone… what you find here in the fog instead has you staring into the abyss - and you discover it stares back (& wears the face of someone terrifyingly handsome)

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. dark themes. Silent Hill AU blended with TLOU canon (major spoilers for TLOU2), monsterfucking, distorted reality, limbo world & dreamlike states, sex pollen, dubcon, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, feelings & themes of dread/terror/hopelessness, angst, monstrous!Joel, moments of violence, death mentions, blood imagery, protective!Joel, possessive!Joel, Joel lifts reader multiple times with scary monster strength, scary guard dog Joel vibes, ambiguous happy ending (?)

word count: 5.7k

a/n: please be aware of the warnings - this fic I know won’t be everyone’s cup of tea & I kindly ask if it isn’t please just scroll away… if you haven’t played Silent Hill or don’t even know what it is know this was written for anyone to jump in & read! Big thank you @pedgito for beta reading ily forever, and to you, if you’re reading this know i truly appreciate it & thank you too ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

This town, this possible pocket of a morbid nightmare, holds a plethora of ghastly creatures that stalk your very soul. Contorted bodies on the floor, lying fiends crawling as if straight from a hellish pit, all chase after you. Twitching infected, now distorted demons, also plague the streets.

But the monster enclosed in the large metal pyramid shaped device, who drags a sword the size of a small tree, terrifies you most of all.

You’ve seen the pyramid headed creature lurking through the thicket of the town, unwavering in his journey, almost even patrolling at times.

The body appears like that of a man. Broad shoulders sturdy, aged with thick veiny arms effortlessly pulling along the terrifying blade.

You think of the woman you met in the cemetery and what she said: “There’s something… wrong with that town.”

You fully understand now.

In a world surviving after its destruction, you never thought you’d see another form of hell. Yet an even more sinister darkness festers within every inch of this town waiting to strike. There is no peace.

Because when you open your eyes after dozing off on the crusty couch in the home you've been taking refuge in…

You discover the pyramid headed beast now looms above you.

His form towers imposing and striking, a monster conjured from a child’s nightmare now casting his shadow over you.

You didn’t even hear this hulking behemoth walk into the house.

The time spent here continues making your mind melt.

The only refuge you’ve found came in this abandoned home along the outskirts of town.

Which is now not so safe anymore.

Communication with Maria, your late mother’s oldest friend, has gone dead silent. You feel foolish not leaving with her, but now…

The searching, the endless days, the long walks, all have brought you here. Though you can’t even fully describe where here is.

You’ve seen doomed abandoned cities, but nothing like this. The buildings stand vacant, paint chipping away like decayed remnants of a world gone. Crusted crimson coats every inch of this place as if no one but angels tread here. Or possibly ghosts, or demons.

Thick fog blankets the town like the personified angel of death, blurring your sense of direction and casting you into an abyss of dread.

The town becomes an endless maze stretching on and on. You haven’t found another person for what feels like weeks. Only whispers and chills of dread like eyes watch from the shadows. The creatures and infected prey on you, maws open wide.

Now you stare up at their god, the most terrifying beast in this macabre world.

Stunned, petrified, barely even able to breathe, you stare at the pyramid monster so frightened you can't cry in terror, numb to the horrors.

But that’s when you see it. Black ink spilling against the creature’s side.

He’s injured.

Even injured you don’t doubt he can swing his sword and attack you within seconds.

Demonic screeches suddenly howl into the air breaking this tense moment. Your eyes, panicked, dart to the kitchen. The open back door gives you a clear shot to the backyard.

Monsters, macabre and bloody, claw towards your distorted sanctuary through the decayed wooden fence of the porch.

Adrenaline, instinctive primal fear, possesses you and you bolt off the couch.

You move, grabbing your weapon, a discarded pipe and start swinging. You ward off as many of the creatures as you can.

That’s when you realize the pyramid head beast hasn’t chased after you. So you continue swatting away the monsters long enough until you can barricade the opening shut with discarded lawn chairs.

Heading back inside, there, the pyramid monster waits.

In this barbaric wasteland, it unnerves you seeing this creature simply standing in the middle of the dimly lit living room. You’re grateful this home had matches and candles that brought some illumination.

It’s just you and the metal monster now.

Dark liquid, rusted ink like blood, spills down his arms and across his body.

The monstrosity does bleed.

It feels like a standoff, you staring at this tremendous wounded beast.

Through the rusted metal you hear it - heaved breathes, heavy wheezing.

This creature is wounded and hurting.

Too many thoughts buzz rapid and angry in your brain. You’re worried this monster man at any minute will chase and attack you. He already blocks your exit out the front door, possibly dooming you.

But some sort of scabbing human pity wells in you. If you were this injured and alone, you pray someone would spare you, help and save you with a grace filled hand of salvation.

So viewing this beast like a cornered animal, you slowly walk back into the kitchen. You grab a pack of kitchen towels, old and covered in cobwebs, but still the most you could manage as wrappings.

Back in the living room, you cautiously place the items on the couch near the pyramid head man.

He doesn’t move.

Keeping your focus on him and tiptoeing within the edges of terror, you head back to the kitchen. If he does decide to attack you can at least try running out the back door. It might be swifter than trying to dodge his great sword.

Patiently, you sit waiting, too stunned to sleep.

It’s simply you and the pyramid headed monster. He never once enters your space.

You don’t even know how much time has passed or if any time has passed at all.

Daybreak soon leaks into the kitchen. The sunlight hitting your face wakes you, electrifying your heart.

You fell asleep.

Rapidly you rush into the living room.

He’s gone. The creature is gone.

That’s when you notice the wide open porch door, the source of the light that woke you. Hesitantly you peer outside.

The bulking monster towers on the porch, faintly statuesque. His back is back to you. His rusting metal sword stands at the ready.

The pyramid headed creature turns to face you.

You feel cornered, a small prey within the eyes of a demonic god waiting to feel its wrath. The rusted pyramid head simply stands still.

The wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but his dark ink like blood stains his clothing.

The creature picks up the great dreaded sword. Instantly your body coils like a rabid ready to spring and run for the door…

Until the pyramid head moves and walks away.

The sight stuns you. You even wait expecting him to return.

He doesn’t.

The rush of emotions barrels into your body, causing you to hold onto the banister of the porch.

Three things bounce rabidly in your mind.

First, the pyramid head creature didn’t kill you, didn’t even once attack you even while you slept.

Second, it might possibly be the lack of human contact or the absence of cohesive reality in this town, but if you didn’t know better…it looked like the beast stood on the porch keeping watch.

And third -

The pyramid head man wore a broken watch.

Strangely enough, that thought sticks with you most of all.

—

Fear shakes your hands while you shake open door after door trying to find sanctuary. Night approaches. You’ve learned night unleashes the worst of this town, a catalytic shift. Now an unforgiving storm with thick wailing winds threatens to blow you away. You knew you wandered too far again to head back to your makeshift home.

You have to find shelter.

The mist thickens, a sinister soup. The scratching of claws, the clicking of infected, seem to come from all around. You’re on the verge of tears trying another door.

Eventually you find sanctuary in the bar.

With the storm raging outside this will be your rest stop for the night. You begin scavenging around.

Various notes, journal scraps, even receipts, scatter across the town like fallen leaves among the debris. You’ve been gathering them curious to what they entail.

The crunched up book entries become vital fast when you discover many hold information about the creatures residing in this molding disaster.

Here you find one with a simple pyramid drawing on it etched out in dried blood.

Below the drawing is a note. The scribble handwriting paints the pyramid head monster as a hunter, unstoppable in his rampage and the hand of destruction itself.

“Born from the most human yet selfish desires that ravages a soul. It brings him to the edge of losing his humanity. Or maybe it is because he cares too much that this darkness consumed him…whatever it is, that is what created this creature. This once man, who stole the candidate is”

Blood stains the rest of the journal scrap, like the town refuses to let you know the name of this creature.

You pray you don’t run into the pyramid head again.

Tired and not wanting to sleep on the disgusting floor, you pull up a seat at the bar top folding your arms to rest upon them.

The wind howls. Muffled creaks of the creatures still wandering around are unsettling. But your eyes finally close all the same.

You swear you now hear the soft tunes of an old country song, and someone whispering your name.

Delicate fingers, warm and callous, brush against your forehead. Wearily you open your eyes.

The bar has been transformed. Instead of the boarded up abandoned shell of a building, it’s incredibly cozy. Lights are strung up. Gentle music floats all around.

“Y’wanna drink, sweetheart?”

The voice is smooth, accented and twanged beautifully. It feels like it’s been so long since you even spoke to another person much less heard one.

Scrambling up, you discover the voice comes from a man behind the bar.

There stands the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen. And yet what sadness clouds around him. An aged rugged grace paints him like some country romance love interest. Brown eyes as dark as earthen caverns beg you to get lost in.

The bar is beautiful, and he’s beautiful.

“You’ve been fightin hard.” He says, pouring out a drink for you.

You’re stunned, can’t process what’s even happening.

“Where are we?” You ask stunned.

“A museum,” he dully replies, but you can tell he’s joking.

The sip of the drink tastes heavenly, warms you up and settles you down.

“Ya seem tired.” He adds, and you exhale feeling the weight of this world seep into your bones.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently.

So you spill your heart to him. How Maria, the closest person you’ve had left to family, vanished into the wind. How you don’t know what’s even going on anymore.

“And now I’m here.” You sigh.

“Maybe you’re here for a reason.” The bartender suggests. “This town…it knows more than we realize.”

You don’t know how to reply. So all you can do is take a quiet sip.

A quiet thump comes, and you glance up. The man behind the bar with darts in his hand now tries throwing them at the target across the wall.

The second dart he throws barely lands on the bullseye.

“Wow, you kinda suck.” You snort.

He scoffs looking at you. “Think you’d be any better?”

So that’s how you end up behind the bar now, trying to throw darts in competition with this beautiful older man. He smirks at how pissed you get seeing one of your darts just miss the target.

A vague familiarity swirls around this man, as if something at the back of your mind claws to get out.

You dream of him and this bar often, like your mind slips into this space to escape the horrors clamoring for your flesh.

Your favorite handsome bartender refuses to give you his name, no matter how many times you’ve tried weaseling it out of him.

“My name’s not important.” He tells you, and it only draws a cold ache in your chest.

Then, the nightmares of this town squash your peaceful dreams.

The decayed buildings wither away more and more into desolation the further you travel into the town.

Butterflied fungal growths sprout over certain buildings, crawling over the cracks and branching over the surface of anything they touch. You were worried they too carried the infection.

“Don’t touch fungus shit.” A note written on an old receipt had warned you about the vines and flora of this town.

But it’s getting hard heeding that warning. The monsters rage more bloodthirsty, ruthless and violent in their attacks.

The apartments you’re running through are hard to navigate. Walls crumble and the dark corridors make it difficult to see which way is which. You’re reminded of a twisted diabolical version of wonderland.

Turning a corner, one of the creatures emerges from the darkness screeching and swinging at you. Scrambling away you collide hard against the wall and a puff of dust clogs your senses.

You try not inhaling and swing your metal pipe until it makes contact, stopping the attack.

But what had you run into?

Your heart drops seeing one of the vines cracked open and the faint dust like spores dancing in the air.

Panic rages in your chest.

You flee, fast as you can, running through familiar spaces until you’re out of the apartment hallway. You need to get back to the safe house you’ve been hiding in.

But the wind outside whips feral, screaming with a blustering force that you can barely step outside.

Then your hands start shaking and suddenly heat floods over your body.

The spores, you realize, unleashed a sudden sickness because it feels like you got hit with a sudden fever. Dread spreads in you. You know these aren’t the typical symptoms of the cordyceps infection, but you can’t risk it.

So you wait inside the apartment complex’s entrance office.

No sensation of twitching.

Instead, your mouth dries out and a slickness pools between your legs.

Shit.

What kind of reaction did these vines cause?

Your body drifts between a sensation of being weighed down by an anchor to almost floating through the air until you stumble down onto the floor.

The clothes you wear now scratch your skin, and your mind slowly fogs up more. So you slip out of your pants.

You’re aware that you’re on the floor of the abandoned receptionist office and hope this will provide you enough cover as your fingers dip into your soaking core.

The orgasmic release clumsily comes, but it’s like unleashing a dam.

Your body twitches wishing for more. Unsatisfied, hungry, everything feels empty.

Please, your mind whispers out, please someone… help.

Slipping your fingers inside, the loud wet squelch of your arousal makes your cheeks burn. It’s almost sacrilegious hearing this debauched erotic sound among such a decayed morbid wasteland.

You’re lost in the sensation, trying to fight through this heat. Your eyes even haze over as the pleasure bubbles more.

Aloud clang collides against the door, snapping your attention forward. Towering above you again is the pyramid head man.

You don’t even scream. It gets logged in your throat instead transforming into a twisted moan.

In this small space, the metal covered demon looms larger than ever. The pyramid prisoned monster stays focused solely on you.

Slowly, he lumbers closer. You can’t even find the strength to move, scramble with some dignity and leave. If anything your legs move like jello shifting as you take in the sight of his strong thick arms, his broad shoulders.

You wonder what he looks like under the helm.

A low rumble vibrates through the room. Wearily your eyes drift down and spot the obvious bulge straining against his pants.

“Please.” The word croaks out of you before you can stop it. You don’t know if this will even help, or if this is even real.

Quickly he crouches down and large firm hands grasp your legs, dragging you across the floor. The movement makes your body twitch, and your eyes shut bracing for pain.

Instead you're gingerly placed on the edge of a table in the receptionist room.

Hesitantly your eyes open. All you see is rusted archaic metal. A sound rips into the air, the tearing of clothes, your underwear specifically. Your core feels colder, yet the cool breeze melts into unbearable flames as the air hits your bare skin.

Gentle fingers twitch moving across your thighs and you moan, almost want to sob. How long has it been since someone’s last touched you? And so reverently?

The low rumbling sound rattles all around you, mixing with your own moans. Everything heightens when his fingers slip inside you.

Thick, his fingers are so damn thick making your hips fidget to feel more of him.

This creature, this monster that’s ripped apart bodies and bathed itself in blood, now fully devotes itself to your pleasure. You feel drunk on that knowledge.

But your release runs away further from you now, hiding just out of reach making you whine frustrated and almost feral.

More, more, you need more.

“Inside.” You manage to croak to the beast. “Need more…inside.”

It’s as if this nightmare world has slipped under your skin, becoming a part of your bloodstream allowing you to transmute the terror into terrible pleasure.

The twitch of the monster’s large cock drags across your bare thighs. The sensation jolts you awake, aware and hyper focused. His grimey blood crusted hands rapidly grab onto your soft hips. You don’t even care if they were inside you, touching you.

Especially when your mind melts as the creature slips inside.

He’s thick, knocking your breathless. It’s delicious feeling so full that you swear you almost feel him in your ribs. It makes the skin melt off your bones.

The monster relentlessly pounds into you, shaking the table unabashedly loud mixing with your delirious moans.

Your legs twist around his strong waist, locking him into you tighter. The pyramid headed beast rumbles louder in this closer position. More distorted groans mix with yours as his hands run up your body, tracing every inch of you.

You should be frightened. This creature sent from hell has you at its mercy. But instead the sensations flooding your body make you’re hungrier for him.

“More, more.” You whine loud and unrelenting.

And he gives.

Your climax is beautifully fierce. Your screams blend into the white void swallowing you whole. Your legs thrash. Your eyes roll back as your fingers dig into the creature’s cold arms. This, you believe, might be the last taste of heaven you’ll ever find in this hell pit.

Exhaustion crashed in immediately. You feel like a ragdoll on the table while this monster continues thrusting into you sloppy and messy, broken growls distorting your mind.

Teetering between bliss and dreams, your hands move up, slowly trade up to the rusting metal.

Tenderly, you wonder what would be like if you could free this creature -

Your hands tracing across the rusting metal containing this pyramid headed monster does something to him. He roars, distorted and hellish, and suddenly spills into you.

You don’t even care he came inside. You thought you had been stated before, now it’s like floating into a new realm of pleasure. You moan now in tandem with him.

Full, you’ve never felt this full. A thick hand affectionate and soft rest against your lower belly. You think it almost aches of a revenant tenderness.

But you’re barely awake now, barely process what’s going on. All you sense are arms cradling you while you fade in and out.

Then you wake up wondering if it was all a dream.

Because instead of the corroded apartment complex you were in, you’re resting back in bed of the home you’ve been staying at.

Did that monster carry you back all the way here?

You don’t know. For a moment you don’t even know if that fuck in the apartments was real, until you stand up and the ache that rips across your body says otherwise.

So you stay resting in this hollow soul of a home. After gaining some rest you start snooping around.

There’s so many photos of a bright young girl with warm sparkling intelligent eyes. Her playing soccer, her roofing showing off her school achievements. She's with two other men.

One is a handsome younger man, a relative from how easy you can see the similarities in their warm smiles.

The other man in any photo… his face is missing.

Either scratched out or simply ripped from the photo.

You heartaches thinking of this family preserved here in the grief of it all, frozen after the world ended and now in this pocket of macabre.

You fall back asleep in the large main bedroom you first woke up in. The faintest hints of pine and sandalwood strangely still cling in the sheets.

It pulls you into the softest dream.

This time you dream of this home you're in now full alive, warm and inviting.

A man stands at the kitchen, his sturdy beautifully broad back to you, dressed in that familiar green plaid. He catches your presence, hears your footsteps and turns.

In the soft morning light, he’s painted ethereal. A rugged whisper of a man out of reach yet so close. Then as a gentle grin tugs his lips, you feel like you already do know him.

You and him settle into a soft morning, simply preparing breakfast. Then thick strong arms slide around you from behind, and the smell of pine and sandalwood washes over you.

Your bartender hums a deep sigh while burying his face against your shoulder.

“Wanna taste ya. Can I taste y’honey?” He mutters letting his words roll out a soft seductive purr.

Something firm already pokes against you and when he grinds into you, everything in you molds into him.

Kissing this man, finally tasting his lips clashing into you, is akin to unleashing a great beast, a creature laying dormant that now consumes unrelenting.

His teeth nip and dig at your skin, trying to devour you whole. But it’s with a fierce devotion that almost brings tears to your eyes when he kisses you again.

Then he says your name…

His voice is like a beautiful country twang wrapped in the delicacy of a moth’s wing. The tenderness of his fingers running across your face, holding you in his grasp - it’s drenched in the deepest affection you’ve ever experienced.

He tastes of something sweet, a promise of home.

And then he fucks you wild from behind pressed up against the counter.

His mouth is again all over your neck, biting licking any inch of you he can.

“God damn baby,” he moans with a slurp as he sucks on your skin. “Wanted this, wanted to taste ya for so long. Was losin’ my mind before.”

Before?

Even among the delicious haze that catches you off guard slightly.

But then all worry drifts away when his fingers slide down to your clit.

“You’re m’fucking baby, yeah? All fucking mine?” He growls and the rumble sounds familiar, like a creature you’ve heard prowling in the dark.

“Yes.” You sob, nodding best as you can.

The way he pounds into you, carves a new universe into you. You feel like you’re completely tied to him. Something inside you whispers maybe you always have been.

His hand curls around your throat, possessive but tender.

It’s wonderful for a dream.

But dreams here don’t last long. You realize that now.

After you finish, and after he spills into you, he pulls himself away from leaving you empty and stunned.

There’s a composed wilderness clouding his eyes. He moves to clean you up and it’s quiet, thick with choking tension.

“This town…” his voice cuts clipped as he shakes his head. He sounds worried, strained and panicked. After you and him compose yourselves, he quickly moves to a drawer to pull out a simple pistol.

Determined and unwavering, he loads it then places it in your hand.

You even tear up.

“Next time I see ya I don’t know what’ll happen. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get to ya in time.” He mutters.

Next time?

“Stay safe…” this man whispers, then leans forward to place a sweet kiss against your forehead.

A chittering growl, the static hiss of one of the monsters, echoes outside the window. Fear clutches at your heart overshadowing the warmth.

You scramble to glance outside trying to spot the demon in the mist.

Thankfully the creature doesn’t spot you, only shuffles further down the street, clicking and twisting its body.

Sighing you turn back to the man -

And no one is there.

Now the warm kitchen stands with the corroded wood, matted cobwebs and an empty space. The kitchen stares back desolate and mocking.

Yet a real gun still sits in your hand.

Was this even a dream? Were you awake this entire time?

A hand comes over your mouth to silence the sob and stop the bleeding panic of realizing this distorted reality is possibly infecting you whole.

—

The next dream you have, another man greets you. This man also seems familiar. You’ve seen in the photos, warm eyes and a handsome youthful charming smile.

Brother to your lover, you can’t explain how but those two you just know are brothers.

He’s working the bar now.

“Where’s…” you feel foolish not being able to say the name of the man you long for.

“Out.” The current bartender say with a familiar twang. “He’s… on patrol.”

Those words hang ominous.

“Y’know…a town like this used to be our paradise.” He explains.

You can see remnants of that wherever you go, whispers of peace corrupted and overrun by the darkness.

“But this town… it knows.” He adds.

You’re reminded of a journal scrap you came across in the main part of town.

“The town will read your heart, manifest the darkness into willpower… but it will come with a tax.”

You even read that outloud to this man. His face darkens.

“Yeah, shit that’s exactly it.” He coughs.

Then his eyes search yours.

“You’re… you know you can move on.” There’s an ache wavering in his voice that rips your heart open.

You shake your head.

You almost feel guilty. You came here looking for Maria and now chase after a ghost. But, it feels as if you’re looking for a multitude of them now. Like this one ghost will unlock them all.

“Tell me about him, about your brother.” You ask.

The handsome younger man barks a laugh.

“Stubborn as a god damn mule. Prideful at times. But… maybe the best damn man I’ve ever known.” The fondness gleams ever true in his words, brotherly love unending.

“Y’know, his birthday…it was on-”

“Outbreak day.” You finish before you even process the words.

You inhale sharp.

His birthday…

Yes. You remember. That’s right, he told you his birthday was the day the world ended.

“Love and grief are funny fuckin’ things. Might even be brothers at times.” The younger brother comments, and your throat feels dry.

You need to leave. Your skin crawls unbearable now.

Forcing yourself awake, you cough among the stale air of the hospital. The dust stings your lungs.

Tucking this dream into the corner of your heart, you wake up back to your journey.

So many bodies litter the hospital. So many bullets and abandoned guns are scatter among the floors. The place is crawling with more monsters running amuck here.

Rushing down a hallway, you stumble down the stairs. Exhaustion outweighs your adrenaline. Eventually you end up back down at the lower level parking garage of the hospital.

At least you can try to heading back home.

Then something scrapes against the concrete.

“You.” A distorted voice growls demonic. Behind you is another monster, this one sounds like a woman and you can see distinct features, echoes of this woman, among the monstrous.

“This is what he did to us.” The creature screeches at you with angered venom.

“It’s all his fault, he brought the end of the world with him, was born to bring destruction. He takes…All he does is take! We had salvation in our hands and he took it from us! He took Ellie!”

Ellie…

The name flashes to your mind bringing a warm familiar laugh of a young girl telling you a bad dad joke, the image of her so close yet still out of reach has you blinking back tears.

Then the monster’s screech rattles the walls, singing of ancient pain that makes your legs weak.

She fights with so much power. There’s only so much hiding and your pistol can do.

Trying to flee from her attacks, you stumble and fall onto the floor.

It’s over. This has to be the end.

“He can’t save you now.” The creature cackles gleeful.

A sob escapes you.

“Joel.”

You whisper the name, feeling it scramble and scratch at your throat. Why it suddenly came to you now, you don’t know. But it feels as if it’s been hiding this entire time, simply waiting for you to call upon it.

Suddenly distorted violent scratching comes, and your body freezes. Something loud collides hard and fast against the metal.

The swing of the terrible executioner’s sword comes first. Then, the rust of metal follows.

The pyramid head creature emerges from the darkness.

He is every bit the destroyer you once feared. Yet now he stands solely between you and the other monster, protecting you.

She screeches loud seeing her new opponent.

The two battle, ferocious beast unchained, and you stare petrified.

That’s when you catch the glimpse of the pyramid head’s arm again.

The watch. The broken watch.

The same watch you’re realizing your bartender wore, the one you know so fondly.

And now that you fully stare at the great sword, you’re reminded of a pocket knife a man you loved once used.

“Joel.” You say again.

The pyramid head turns to you, like a guard dog being called back and waiting for your command.

It’s him underneath it. It really is him…

Everything clicks into place.

The realization unfolds soft, steady and quiet.

This town, the grief but ultimately the love he held turned him into this.

The town knighted him as both executioner and protector.

Within the eternal welded metal, he’s punished to stay locked up from ever tasting true blissful peace. The grief of losing his daughter, of trying to save another, feeling like he’s never been able to protect or bring any goodness into this world only for him to lose it - all layered and sealed itself around him.

Now he’s here…

Here to protect you like he has been this entire time.

Joel with every might swings his sword, powerful and true. He lands hit after hit to the creature roaring unholy, powerful and fierce.

This baptism in his wrath, the comfort in knowing the bloodshed comes because he’s protecting you brings a laugh from your chest.

It’s a laugh freeing and loud. It bounces off the walls, mixes with the gurgles of blood and the ripping of flesh.

Your Joel won’t lose.

The demonic screeches of the woman come to a crescendo and then she falls deadly silent. Before you realize it, a soft hand is against your face. The shadow of the pyramid rusted metal falls over you like the shade of angel wings.

“Joel.” You whisper his name reverent.

Gingerly, like you’re something precious, you’re gathered into his arms. Soft pur rumbles are the last thing you hear before the darkness pulls you under.

You wake up in a med clinic. You can’t tell if this is a dream or not.

“Finally made it… took ya a while.” The voice, gentle and comforting, makes you bolt up from bed.

Maria sits beside you with soft eyes and a kind smile.

“You’re here.” You sob relieved.

“Knew you’d find us.” She nods.

A knock arrives cutting Maria off. Inside steps the familiar younger brother who beams comfortingly.

“Tommy.” You effortlessly greet him, like the name has been with you all along.

“Knew you’d figure it out.” He grins, familiar and sweet.

“Come on.” Maria says with a knowing look. “We should let her rest some more.”

“But wait…” you say and they both pause, turning to you. “What…”

What had happened? What’s really going on? You can even gather your thoughts, put them into words.

Then all that worry dies out when another drawl of a voice pierces the room.

“Alright, leave her alone.”

Joel.

Maria sighs, playfully exhausted. While Tommy turns to you with a wink. They both slide out of the door while Joel instead rushes in. Tommy makes playfully kissing noises. Joel shots him a look before he then quickly moves to the side of your bed.

Your hand finds his immediately.

“You’re here.” You croak and he nods.

“Ain’t leaving you, honey.” It sounds like a promise, ever true. You don’t ever want to leave him now, or here…

“Let’s go home.” You nod.

Without another word Joel gathers you into his arms, kisses the top of your head and steps out of the door.

The fog greets you soft and wispy. A chill runs up your spine from the cold air, but Joel curls you tighter in his arms. All of the monsters and creatures in the streets now scurry away in fear.

This man… the memories flutter in hazy now.

There was a time where you left looking for Maria and ran into a man with that special headstrong girl. A love grew for the two of them and you ending up in the safety of a town… a heaven on earth. You made a home with that man. Watched that girl grow up.

But then that man you loved died, and so did your world.

Then you woke up here at the edge of this town in the graveyard… Did the grief send you here?

You don’t even know anymore. Especially because all of that seems like another world now.

You’re here now. That’s what matters.

“Joel, you deserve love,” you whisper into his chest. “You did what your heart told you…that’s why I’m here. I’ll remind you everyday that you’re a good man. I’m your baby, remember?”

Your hand reaches up to softly stroke the metal pyramid encasing. He rumbles soft, familiar, the most comforting sound.

You think of how lucky you are to find love in the devil’s arms and discover peace within his hell.

In the arms of your man, your monster, you happily enter the fog embracing it all around.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Dark Shenanigans - Nandor x (f)reader

Summary: It’s Nadja’s something hundredth birthday, with that said, you’re on a mission to make it great.

Warning: fluff, general vampire nonsense

Masterlist

“Yeah being a half vampire half human does have its perks. I mean for one I can do all that cool vampire shit and I can go out in the sunlight...so that helps for when they’re all being really annoying.” You admit with a casual shrug to one of the documentary cameras before turning to an isle of party supplies. “So anyways we’re at this store.”

The camera shifts to the multiple arras of supplies and materials at the local supermarket in Staten Island that you and your vampire lover’s human familiar, Guillermo, currently are. Specifically on the hunt for birthday decorations for Nadja and ghost Nadja who’s possessed a strange looking doll for the time being.

Since the other four actual full vampires can’t shop for themselves at this time of day or really in general, you and Guillermo have been given such an honorable task in making Nadja’s birthday the best one yet. Considering she’s the most well balanced in the head out of the four of them and is the only other lady of the manor.

“Hey Y/N, how’s this look?” Wonders Guillermo as he holds up a bunch of Mardi Gras beads of yellows, purples, and greens. “Comments, questions, concerns?” He adds with a small smile.

Eyeing up the beads, your head shifts over to the other various colors, “Hrmm, G I’m feeling the vibe you’re going for this year and I like it, but let’s go with Nadja colors.”

Guillermo’s dark eyes light up at your positive suggestion, “Right! So the red and black ones then?”

“Yup. She’ll love that shit.” You state with a satisfied nod of approval, “Let’s get some black and gold confetti from over there and oh, those masquerade masks look cool as fuck.”

You pick up and test out various masks in the background as Guillermo adds some bits of dialogue for the documentary crew, “Um yeah she’s really cool isn’t she.” He says with a smile while glancing at you then back to the camera, “Which is kind of odd since Y/N’s been with Nandor since 1793 so you’d think she’d be a little more like them but no, she’s super chill and really nice.” Suddenly his face goes a bit serious as he leans in to whisper, “But she did kill a whole street gang once when they threw a slur at me so I wouldn’t mess with her. For your safety.”

The camera pans back over to an oblivious you who’s put on a masquerade mask and is swinging a plastic light saber around with a whole lot more accuracy and grace then would a normal person. The camera then pans back to Gullimero, “Um, I’m just gonna....make sure she doesn’t smack anyone.”

——

Arms full of groceries of food for you and Gullimero, as well as random party decorations for Nadja’s birthday tomorrow night, you use the bottom of your boot to skillfully open the door as the documentary crew and Guillermo follows suit. Guillermo now on the verge of falling over with the large heart shaped pillow in his arms that’s covering most of his body.

You don’t feel tired in the slightest due to your half vampiric abilities so this is nothing to you, “Alright.” You state, turning on your heel to face the crew and Guillermo, “They’re asleep so we gotta be extra sneaky now, I don’t want Nadja catching us with all this cool spooky birthday shit. Everyone to the attic!” You whisper yell before leading the charge to the attic.

They all follow as quietly and as quickly as they can and then soon enough in no time are you and Guillermo back outside in the sunny garden trying to figure out if you should blow up the giant sea monster pool floaty.

“I mean it would look cool as hell and no doubt out-do whatever the fuck boring thing Lazlo probably has planned.” You quip with a shrug while the two of you stare thoughtfully at the small gloomy dark pond. “He’s got no chance with us. I’ve won best decorator and card maker for two hundred years in a row.”

Guillermo side eyes you in honest amazement, “Wow that’s a lot of years. And cards.”

“I know. I was an artist in the 12th century but my no good terrible good for nothing piece of garbage trash sexist human husband, who I was forced to marry when I was only sixteen, took all the credit for my artwork in that era.” You confirm with a growl, “But it stings less because once I finally grew into my powers and strength at eighteen I simply made his untimely demise look like an accident.” You add with a smirk.

“Oh, wow.” Mutters the intrigued familiar.

“Precisely. The old fool was thrown off his horse because I told Philip, the horse, to throw him off. And he did. Which killed the idiot so I got the house and all of his money.”

“That’s......neat.” Mutters Guillermo as he shoots the camera crew from behind you and him a nervous look. “Uh the suns going down so I should probably help Nandor out of his coffin.”

Raising your head to the sky you immediately see how the sun has begun to paint the clouds in beautiful colors of oranges, reds, light pinks, and darkening purples. “Oh, how bout that. Yeah alright let’s get inside.” You nod to Guillermo before turning to walk towards the manor’s giant mahogany doors.

——

Turning the handle and walking a couple feet into the large main room that holds itself as a sort of crossroads for all the other various connecting hallways and staircases. You don’t make it even three more steps towards the left ascending staircase before you hear the highly recognizable voice of your one and only.

“Y/N! My lovely wife and favorite person still ever so lovely!” Announces Nandor loudly with a grand smile showing off his pearly white fangs, “How I have missed you and your morning kisses. Where have you been off to?” He wonders softly as you smile a big dumb love-struck grin right back up at him, you’d absolutely die to hear that accent one last time.

“I can’t tell you right now it’s a secret!” You whisper yell back, causing his thick dark brows to scrunch up in confusion.

“But I am your lovely strong puff dragon Y/N.” Whines Nandor adorably as you roll your eyes at the cameras before looking back up at him.

“Fine. Come here then.”

In an instant he’s at your side, excitedly awaiting what secretive news you will tell him, “Okay, so we know it’s Nadja’s birthday tomorrow right?”

“Yes. I remember because she hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Right. So me and Gullimero got some fun surprise birthday party decorations and they’re in the attic and we can’t tell Nadja.”

Nandor gives you a knowing look of affirmation as he leans in closer to you, his demeanor suddenly shifting into a more saddened one, “You went shopping without me?” He says quietly.

Leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek your hands instantly find his, “Just for a little while, but I still need to find more stuff so....you wanna come?”

Nandor’s big dark eyes light up with joy as you hand him a kind smile, “Yes! Let us go in search of unknown treasures for our lady friend Nadja so she will not be mad at us for terrible dull gifts of friendship.”

Laughing you give his hands a playful squeeze, “Come on I’ll race you to Party City!” You say before leading him past the camera crew and Guillermo who simply watches the two of you leave, glad to have an hour of peace.

“There’s a whole city for partying? Y/N why have we never been to this place?”

——

“Y/N there are no people partying here.” Whines your vampire lover in puzzlement as he follows you from the entrance to a side isle. “You said this was a city for partying.”

“That’s just the name of the store Nans.” You retort with a small chuckle as he looks from right to left at all the color coded party plates and napkins galore.

“Well the title is very misleading.”

“Agreed.”

Turning to the right you guide him towards the decretory pirate themed isle in search of something that will peak his interest. Also you wanted so badly to make it to this spot but Gullimero was a man on a mission so your intention was thwarted for when you had Nandor with you.

Speed walking down the pirate themed isle you quickly halt all movement as Nandor’s large body stops within less than an inch from your back. Smiling brightly you snatch the desired object in front of you and as swift as a cat turn to face him.

“Have you come for a dual my old enemy?” You speak slyly, eyes narrowed as you hold the foam sword right in front of his face. “I sense a nervousness about you. Tell me, are you ready to face your inevitable bloody end?”

Staring at the pointy foam, his dark puppy eyes shift over to you as an adorable fangy grin breaks out across his pale face, “Seems you have come prepared, oh radiant and alluring seductress. Well, so have I!” Shouts Nandor before grabbing two foam swords from off the rack and swinging them in both hands like a mad man.

Taking a cautious step back you hold your pathetic five dollar sword in both hands like a true warrior ready for battle, “Only one shall leave this place alive.” You affirm with a smirk, “And it’s not going to be you.”

“Arrrrrggg.” Bellows your lover as he charges you like the true conqueror that he once was. But all to soon do you swiftly duck under his arms and swat him over his stomach with a confident thwack sound.

He makes a puny little “oww” as you turn around to face him once again, “Y/N you hit me kind of hard.” He complains, looking rather defeated and genuinely hurt that you could have intentionally injured him on purpose.

Bringing the plastic weapon down to your side once again, your face suddenly softens as you walk over to him, “Come here you big baby.” You quip sincerely as he leans down so you can give his cheek a quick kiss.

Rising back to his full height, Nandor almost blushes as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a happy smile, “Actually it didn’t hurt at all I just wanted you to kiss me.” Reveals the vampire with a proud grin as you simply roll your eyes.

“Should have known.” You add before turning and snatching up four more plastic foam pirate swords for the others. “Alright let’s get outta here, follow me my love, to the checkout line we shall purchase our weapons of war and partying on the high seas.” You announce with gusto as Nandor stands proudly at your side, ready to follow you anywhere.

“Yes. To check out.”

——

Kicking open the unlocked door, Nandor bursts into the vampire residence with bags full of goodies for Nadja’s birthday party. You right behind him but less dramatically, “We’re back!” You shout to no one in particular as Colin Robinson suddenly appears from out of nowhere, looking ready to leave with his funny little hat and usual beige jacket.

“Oh hey guys,” He starts with a friendly nod, “I’m just heading out on the town tonight. I guess there’s a fair or something in the park and I wanted to test my skill at the ball toss. I’ve been reading up on the body mechanics and how the game is set up which seems pretty basic all in all. Also I really want to win a stuffed bear this time, it might add a little pizazz to my room. Welp see ya’round.” Adds Colin before walking past the two of you without another word and out into the night he goes with some of the camera crew following close behind.

Nandor turns to you with a look of annoyance, “Jeesh I thought he would never leave. Let’s go to your room I want to kiss you some more now.”

“Why my room?”

“Because since you are half vampire you get to sleep in a bed and because I am a full vampire I sleep in a coffin.” Inquires Nandor while looking at you with those big beautiful dark eyes of his, “And my coffin is too small for cuddles so your room will suffice.”

“Yeah that’s a fair point.” You shrug before following him to your room.

After many cuddles leading to other more rated R type activities that lasted until just about sunrise, you finally got some well needed rest while the sun shone high in the sky until she began her dramatic descend back into oblivion. Opening your eyes you slowly rise from out of your comfy bed, already missing the presence of your obsidian eyed lover.

He gets too nervous about your closed windows for fear that the sun might burn him which would be impossible because you black out the glass. But alas, he’s very cautious about these types of things and won’t risk it for anything, though he feels bad about leaving you in the morning, you understand.

Suddenly it dawns on you that today or perhaps tonight, is Nadja’s birthday and you completely forgot to set up any decorations. Shit, how stupid. Throwing the blankets off of you, your feet move quick as you speedily change yesterday’s outfit for something a bit nicer and more clean.

Racing out of your room and into the dimly lit manor hallway, you make a bee line for the attic but before you’re able to reach the steps, Guillermo runs into you, just about knocking you into a wall of various stolen ancient weapons. Sharp ones at that.

That was close.

“Y/N are you okay!” Worries the familiar as you quickly gather your bearings.

“Guillermo! The decorations! Nadja’s birthday!” You whisper yell as the human man simply smiles. “Why are you smiling, this situation does not call for smiles.”

“Don’t worry. While you were sleeping I set up all the decorations.” He replies with a shrug, “No problem.”

“What? But that must have taken you all day, you could have asked me for help. I would have come.” Your brows furrow as he shakes his head, though you still feel bad for not helping with anything.

“Well I did try, but um,” Gullimero awkwardly clears his throat, giving the camera a quick glance, “Nandor was with you and last time I asked for you while you and him where having alone time he threatened to carve out my eyeballs and force feed them to me.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance you take a deep breath, “Sounds like him. Very creative when he wants to be, alright, well....where’s everyone?”

“Oh, they’re not up yet. I was actually on my way to get you. I made blood popsicles and the pool floaty is all done and in the pond.” He says with a sense of pride for his decorating skills. “I think she’ll like what we’ve come up with this year.”

-

Standing in the living room with your three fellow immortals you search a dresser for her card, “Oh shit where’s my card? I could have sworn I had it yesterday on my dresser but I don’t remember seeing it there in the morning. Maybe it’s in this one?”

“Witches!” Hisses Nadja as you huff in frustration, where the hell did you put that damn card?

“Oh, Y/N my love,” Intervenes Nandor with a gentle tug of your sleeve, “I took it with me when I left your room before sunrise because I wanted to put my name on it too so she would know it’s from us.”

“What?” Replies Lazlo dramatically, “Now hold on just a damn minute, this card competition is individually scored so I won’t be having any of this nonsense. I worked really hard on mine this year.”

“Oh lick a donkey’s arse, look here,” You retort with, quickly holding up the card for Nadja, “there are two separate drawings on ours so either way if one of us wins she gets both our pictures. So you better hope your drawing doesn’t resemble a night clubs bathroom wall.”

“Yeah.” Mutters Nandor, who’s hiding behind you while resting both hands on either one of your shoulders as you glare at Lazlo.

“Fine.” Agrees Lazlo begrudgingly, “And mine will be amazing, this bitch of paper took me a whole six months to plan and produce. Can’t get quality this good anywhere else I guarantee it.” Adds Lazlo with a firm nod of self approval as you glance at the nearby camera.

“Right, okay everyone sit it’s time for presents. I want to know what you all got me.” Beams Nadja excitedly as she smiles a fangy grin in delight, plopping herself down in one of the arm chairs. Lazlo quickly finding the other one while you and Nandor seat yourself on the large couch. Colin and Guillermo finding somewhere to sit close by respectfully.

“Well, all I can say is hold onto your socks my dear cause this is going to blow you away.” Smirks Lazlo as he pulls a small box from out of his jacket pocket.

“If it’s a self made business card that says invitation to sexy town I will puke.” You deadpan while Nandor laughs from beside you, causing Lazlo to lose his smirk as Nadja hides her amusement the best she can manage.

“He he, sexy town, nice one Y/N.” Mutters Nandor with a proud grin as you raise a brow at Lazlo who’s giving you a hard glare.

“Oh, my dear pumpkin pie love, don’t listen to Y/N I will love anything you gift me.” Encourages Nadja with a bright welcoming smile, no doubt immediately boosting Lazlo’s once irked mood.

Rolling your eyes you shift a bit to find yourself leaning into Nandor’s body as Nadja opens up the rest of the vampire residents various gifts. A joyous fangy smile gracing her pale features every single time, revealing this birthday party was a thrilling success.

After much more fun that just about lasts throughout the whole night, and some rare but hilarious attempts at dancing between the five of you vampiric individuals. You’re feeling rather sleepy and you can tell Nandor is ready for a trip to dreamland as well.

Swaying to the lowly playing record instrumental, you hold Nandor tight while simultaneously enjoying the feeling of him so close, him doing just the same as he keeps you firmly pressed against his chest. His long dark hair tickles your face as he presses his head to your cheek, doing his absolute best to keep the flow without tripping up.

Sensing his growing fatigue, you gently squeeze his hand, “My love the sun will be up soon, let’s get you to bed, yes?”

A small lazy smile tugs at the corners of his lips while he looks down to meet your gaze, “But my dark angel I’m not tired. I want to dance with you a little longer.” He whines adorably before failing to conceal a big yawn.

Giggling, you lean back to slowly lead him towards the door, “That yawn says otherwise.”

“That wasn’t a yawn Y/N, I was just smiling really big.” He protests, though he still follows your lead to the door.

“I’ve never seen anyone smile like that.” You add with a raised brow.

“Well maybe that’s just how I smile.”

Letting out a breathy snort, you pull away from him to at last take his one hand, “Come. I can’t have a single ray of that dreaded sun to get a taste of your precious skin. Not on my watch.”

Glancing at the closed front door, Nandor squeezes your hand, “Well um, now since you’ve mentioned the sun...I think I’d like to go to my crypt now.” He says, the flash of worry crossing over his face for only a brief moment.

“You sure? I mean a sunrise is pretty beautiful if I’m being honest and I know you never get to see them...”

“Not funny Y/N. And not fair, you know I can’t because I am full vampire.”

“And you’re missing out.”

“And I’d like to stay alive Y/N.”

“Aren’t you dead?”

“Yes and I am your only husband so I need to stay not burnt to a crisp.”

Chuckling, you follow him down the hallway, “Oh really? Don’t want me finding myself with another vampiric lover? Some new beast to sweep me off my feet and take me away into the night.” You tease.

Side eyeing you, he frowns, “No. Don’t I sweep you off your feet?”

Stepping into his crypt you stop him with your hand against his bicep, “Always.” You whisper sincerely with a quick wink, causing him to break out into a big fangy grin.

“Good. And if anyone would try and whoo you I would make sure there would be no more whooing again!” Exclaims Nandor, making the candles rise in flame for only a short second at his rise in emotion for how much he loves you.

“I don’t doubt they would fall by your blade. Not for a second.”

[spookysmujer]

This I Promise You, O.Diaz

Prompt: The hardships of dating the leader of The Santos start to disappate. Oscar and Y/N reach the endgame.

warnings: tough love, fluff, happiness achieved 🥺

word count: 1.9k

A/N: I can’t say thank you enough for all the love shown to my few pieces of work I have posted. It’s truly so heartwarming to know you all are enjoying it. Here is my rendition of Spooky getting his happy ending! I guess you can sat this is boujee version of Nirvana! I love to read the post-Santos!Oscar so much ❤️ Stay tuned for PART 2 of His Girl, a Sad Eyes fic!

“Cesar, I’m going with you.”

His back to you and silence. And it’s eating away at you. Everything that has happened since Oscar’s alleged meeting with 19th street and Cuchillos has you walking on eggshells.

You weren’t suppose to know it about it though. Oscar had been very strict on keeping you at bay with anything gang related. There were some instances when you either figured it out or threatened it out of it Cesar and his friends. Just as you did this time. Cesar dropped the bomb on why you hadn’t seen Oscar in the last 3 days.

“You know I can’t let you. I-“ He says as he turns to look at you but the look on your face has so much emotion he can’t tell what he’s reading. Fear, pain, rage? Cesar looks away for a moment before stepping closer to you. “You need to stay here. I will handle it and find him. We can’t risk your life. On the chance I find my brother alive, I need you to be as well. Please.”

You finally let your guard drop. You strip any tough girl persona and let your shoulders slump and allow the flood of complete fear take over you. Oscar taught you to never let that happen, in front of friend or foe. Once someone can figure out how to get you there, they have control over you. Which is why you and Oscar rarely were sappy in love kind of people, you showed your emotions with each other subtlety. If you’re being honest that was the hardest part in the beginning of your relationship. You were a hopeless romantic who loved affection, the cliche dates and even PDA. But you learned that not everyone liked the same thing and found middle ground with the tough to love cholo.

After he and his friends figured out their next more, you sit in the motel room and daydream of a life outside of the Santos and away from Freeridge. What would would it be like? Where would you two go? What would a normal life of a person with two strikes be like? Could you two make it? But you stop thinking of all of possibilities when you remind yourself that Oscar might not even be alive. The door to the motel room opens and you stand quickly, your hand on the glock that rests the back of your waistband.

Sad Eyes steps in and closes the door behind him, a brown bag in hand, “Thought you should eat.”

You smile and push the glock back in, thanking him. He sits near you and hands you a burger. It’s silent for a moment before he speaks up.

“He’ll be alright. He always is.”

You can only nod in hope that he is right. There have been many runs that Oscar made that were dangerous but he never dealt with a high power like this before. Cuchillos has the power to snap her fingers and have heads rolling. She has an army and Oscar had planned to approach her own his own term. And here you are. Stuck and it sucks.

Sad eyes watches you as your emotions run wildly, he rubs your back in comfort and tells you to remain hopeful.

The day had gone by painstakingly slow as you wait to hear back from Cesar. You should have pushed harder to go with him, to ensure that HE would be okay as well. Who knows what he and his friends had stepped into. You quickly shake the thought from your head as you close in for the night. A chime from your phone gets your attention and you rush over to get it, it’s a text from Ruby’s abuelita. Strange. When you open it, your heart drops into your stomach.

He’s here, Mija. Banged up, but just fine.

All the built up worry physically leaves your body. And the tears begin to spill over. You didn’t suck it up because for the first time you feel like hope again. Oscar did it. He handled the business, he actually did it.

You head out to Ruby’s place, the house is dark but you figure it’s a ruse to avoid any prying eyes. Who knows what happens now with Cuchillos out. No democratic hold within the streets once the word gets out.

The night is eerily quiet as you trek to the back of the house. You enter slowly, Abuelita and Oscar look up to you. She pats his shoulder gently and leaves the room. You mouth a thank you to her approaching the mangled man.

You grab the nearby trash bin and start to clean the bloody gauzes that shroud the table. He sits in silence taking sips of the tequila bottle. It’s quiet for a while as you move around him to rid the house of the evidence he was here.

“Y/N,” Oscar says but you hold a finger up to him to silence him. Now that the worry has subsided, the anger has built up again. The rage of being uninformed, the fury of thinking he was dead with no real goodbye. “You know I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, you could have. You chose not to. You chose to leave me wondering if the next time I were to see you is drinking coffee at your place or in a grave. This time should have been a goddamn acceptance to your rule of keeping me out of it.”

His lips pressed in a thin line, his signature look with furrowed eyebrows, “And what? Have you involved and in the way?”

You step back and look at him, withholding yourself from yelling given the location. He takes another drink and holds back the discomfort in his face. “Cuchillos would have had you killed if you were in anyway involved with my shit. You know that.”

“You want to know what I know? This gang shit has been and will always be your undoing. Whether it’s bringing down enemies or making a drop for 10k. You think you can escape it with that mindset? You can’t protect everyone! And like your compas who have you back, like your brother and his friends who get involved? They risk their lives for you, just as I would. I would do it, no question. This time was different, this time you were stepping into a cage with a lioness and unarmed with no actual plan to take it down.”

“But I did.”

“And at what cost? The streets will be unhinged, the word gets out that the head of the Santos is out and you were the one that did it? It’s you with the step up or you get taken out for the spot.” You stand in front of him, for the first time he is looking up at you.

“I’m gonna make sure the streets are handled but I won’t be the one handling them. Once everything is settled, I’m out. I’m done. That was the point of this, of everything. No more control and order over me or anyone I care about.” He stands, wincing to himself to pull on his mangled tank.

You clench your fist for a moment before releasing it. He believes that things will work out and like most times you follow him, you allow the thought to ponder in your mind.

“I’ve lost people. Just like you. My dad, my brothers. Drive by, robbery,” You close your eyes for a brief moment,” and losing them to this lifestyle wrecked me for many years. It still does but the thought of it taking you? For some reason it hurts more. I was scared, Oscar. Me! Scared even after you taught me not to be. Because regardless of how fed up I get with your shit, I couldn’t stand the thought not waking up everyday to hear the compas run things by you or.. I’m locked in. You’ve got a damn hold on me and I don’t want out. Ever.”

Oscar lets his shoulders fall as he step to you and lets you wrap his arms around him. You carefully embrace and feel all the grooves of his body click with yours. His hand pulls your hair to fall down your back, he kisses the top of your head.

“We’ll get out. And I won’t need to hide anything from you anymore. We won’t have to look over our shoulders or even have raincheck on those stupid movie and dinner shit that you like. Okay? You and me. We’re getting out.” You look up to him and he kisses you passionately.

———two years later ———

“I asked you to not leave your pants laying on the floor! The hamper is right there.” You call out, using your foot to hike it up in the air catching it with your free hand. Laundry day, you would lie if you say that you totally hate it. But Oscar doesn’t help by leaving his clothes around.

You rest a basket of clothes on your hip and head out of the bathroom, “Did you hear me, mi amor?”

“3 works, thanks.” Oscar turns with a big smile on his face and mouths an apologize to you as he holds the house phone between his ear and shoulder.

“I’m sorry, the carne asada had me going. Let me,” He pulls the basket from you and leans forward for a kiss. You smile and press a lovingly kiss to his lips.

His curly, grown out hair looks wildly good on him. Even the grown out facial hair. He no longer sports the Spooky look, he is Oscar Diaz now. A proud homeowner in the outskirts of LA.

And you his fiancé, soon to be wife who could go to bed and expect him to be next you when you woke almost every morning. He tells you where is going all the time now and has relinquished his machismo. The actual Oscar has stepped in.

“Make sure it’s on extra rinse!” You call out as you huff and take a seat at the kitchen table. You can smell the meatloaf in the oven and boy does it smell heavenly. Well mostly anything he cooked had your knees weak.

It could also be the added fact that you are 7 months pregnant and have the urge to eat everything. Even things you didn’t like before getting knocked up. You rest your hand ontop of your bump and rub it contently.

Tears start to well up and you let them fall when Oscar rejoins you, he stops and looks to you. “¿Que? What’s the matter?”

You shake your head, “Nothing, nothings wrong. I’m happy. I’m just so happy.”

“I love you.I can’t wait to meet mi princesa. She’ll be beautiful like her mama. Smart like her papa. And won’t ever have to know life like we use to, this I promise you.” He rests his forehead to yours as he kneels in between your legs and hold you.

“And I love you.”

Every little missed opportunity in life has presented itself again. Neither of you let any of it slip away, not anymore. You express your love for one another every single day and soon that love will be here in the form a precious blessing.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 244: Have You Read This Book

Previously on BnHA: Deku visited his mom on New Year’s Eve and was all “here’s a new letter from my ever-expanding fanclub of adorable preschoolers whom I saved from trauma” and Inko was all, “I’M SO PROUD OF YOU IZUKU I FEEL LIKE I DON’T HAVE TO PROTECT YOU ANYMORE” because she doesn’t watch the news at all or keep track of ominous plot developments I guess. The next morning, a.k.a. New Year’s Fucking Day, while other kids their age visited shrines or sat at home watching TV, Izuku, Shouto, and Katsuki were bussed off to go be child soldiers at Endeavor’s hero agency. Katsuki was all “HEY ENDEAVOR YOU’RE KIND OF A DICK,” and Endeavor was all “SHOUTO IS THIS VULGAR AND PUGNACIOUS YOUTH REALLY YOUR FRIEND” and Shouto was all “TOO LATE DAD, YOU SAID!!” and Endeavor hmmphed and booked it out of there and the kids all followed him and there was this old dude with a beard floating around screaming about END TIMES!! and Hawks was there and, what?? Seriously does anyone actually know what’s going on?

Today on BnHA: Endeavor chases down the old man (who may in fact be an actual prophet, though? Horikoshi what games are you playing) and sets him on fire and tackles him and it’s all very violent. Hawks then appears out of nowhere and breaks up BakuDeku’s tag team effort all “SAVE IT FOR THE MOVIE YOU TWO!” and is then all “hi Shouto” and “hi, you must be Midoriya, Tokoyami told me all about you, I wanted to work with you too, BUT -- [stares off angstily into the distance].” Then, because I forgot that Hawks never shuts up, he’s all, “Hey Endeavor have you ever heard of this book, ‘Paranormal Liberation Front’? Don’t let the really dumb-sounding title put you off, it’s actually a rousing tale full of hidden clues about all the bullshit I’m actually up to. I highlighted the relevant portions if you can’t be assed to read it, well anyways, Hail Hydra.” “Well that was a strange conversation,” Endeavor thinks to himself as he stares uncomprehendingly into the void. Sob someone please help them why are they so bad at this oh god.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so thanks to that little stunt Horikoshi pulled two weeks ago, our chances of finding out Bakugou’s hero name any time within the next dozen chapters are slimmer than ever. probably he’ll reveal it at the end of the arc instead. it’s like he doesn’t even care about the databook. whatever I’ll have plenty of time to sulk more about it after I get to readin’

anyway the title of the new chapter is “Recommendation”, so... actually that does sound fairly promising, though? am I just eternally doomed to get my hopes up? is this referring to Shouto pestering his dad to take on his two best friends as fellow interns? what’s going on here

anyway so we’re opening with this

I love that it’s the two supposed goody-two-shoes kids who are actually being vocal about blatantly disregarding Endeavor’s orders. Shouto is just not having it to begin with, whereas Deku at least is trying to rationalize his own reckless behavior. Katsuki meanwhile is too focused on doing this fancy kick move to switch his suitcase from his left hand to his right to bother talking right now. reminds me of him playing with the soccer ball as a youngling

also the fact that his case is number 17 and Deku’s is number 18. have I talked about this before? I think I have but it was with some other numbered thing. anyways love the symbolism of him trying to stay one step ahead of him and Deku always being right on his heels. or maybe I’m reading too much into it but anyways rivals, yay

damn Endeavor is really determined to get ahead of them though

uh oh Horikoshi how much action did you pack into this chapter. starting to run out of time to finish all your panels again huh. you had a whole extra week! how fucking insane is this arc going to be holy shit

anyways Endeavor way to leave your brand new interns behind minutes after meeting them for the first time smdh. this is exactly how it went down with Hawks and Tokoyami

okay so like, I know a flash fire is an actual thing, but for a second I started wondering if in this kind of context (with him speeding off), it might also be a reference to the DC hero. then I remembered that the name of Endeavor’s technique is different in Japanese and the pun probably doesn’t translate. ah well

anyways dude is fast. but I wouldn’t count the kids out yet, they’re all pretty fast too!

so now we’re back downtown with Old Man Doom And Gloom, and oddly enough it seems that this isn’t actually an out-of-the-ordinary occurrence?

fucking quirk society. you guys are just so desensitized to the most bizarre fucking things. but I guess we in the 21st century are hardly ones to talk ourselves sigh

anyway now he’s being a bit more extra than usual and they’re starting to worry

?? the fuck is that? that sure as hell isn’t Hawks or Endeavor lmao. IF IT’S SLIDIN’ GO I SWEAR TO GOD

or wait, is it still the old man talking? should I actually be paying attention to his ramblings, my bad

is that a fucking Spirit Bomb

(ETA: in truth this is the most badass attack name that has ever existed or will ever exist and I should give it its proper due actually.)

so now I guess he’s hurtling it at them??

...hold up one sec

“revelations from the universe, I have received. flee, flee good citizens. the Dark Lord’s lips curl into a wicked crescent” -- holy shit, this all tracks?? IS THIS DOOMSDAY CRACKPOT MOTHERFUCKER ACTUALLY RIGHT ON THE FUCKING MONEY HOLY SHIT. ARE YOU A WITCH GOOD SIR. DID YOU WRITE A BOOK OF HIGHLY ACCURATE AND DEVASTATINGLY WITTY PROPHECIES BY ANY CHANCE

“the end is nigh! the wicked stars are conspiring against us! we must stop them! the earth is on the verge of being engulfed by darkness! flee, my fellow citizens! I am the one who shall destroy this source of darkness! be revealed! servants of the dark lord, come forth!”

okay listen. if he’s aiming this fucking thing at Hawks, though, after a speech like that? fuck it, I’m a believer. I’m sorry old man, I wrote you off without a second thought and here you are being the only one who’s actually like “HELLO!!!? PEOPLE!!!? THE LEAGUE OF VILLAINS!!?! THEY HAVE AN ARMY!!? AND NOUMUS!??! FUUUUUUUUCK”

and I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but those are some legit-ass universe revelations. fucking even talks about the “Dark Lord” specifically only describing his lips. because he doesn’t have anything else to describe nowadays, face-wise. shit that is spooky

anyway so that sure was unexpected. let’s see what shenanigans Master Roshi here is gonna get himself into next

did my boy just get fucking flashfired. jesus Endeavor show some fucking mercy

...

someone want to explain to this man the concept of a proportionate response? anyone? ...

fucking Todorokis I swear to god. if they weren’t all so good at being amazing superheroes, they could easily fall back on a career of being dramatic bitches for hire instead

anyways when did Endeavor change his clothes. this dude was wearing a turtleneck and slacks thirty seconds ago. did he literally just burn them off. how. what. fucking plot holes left and right

lol imagine if like on the next page the interns finally catch up and they’re like holding his fucking jacket and looking peeved

-- holy fucking shit, Endeavor

not cool, dude!! what the fuck. this isn’t a fucking Noumu for fuck’s sake THAT IS A HUMAN PERSON

(ETA: I guess he ended up being okay, but shit, for a moment it looked like we were going full blown Raiders of the Lost Ark over here. anyways the moral of this story is that Endeavor is terrifying, fuck.)

so now of course Nostradamus is trying to get the fuck out of there, because if he sticks around Endeavor apparently has no qualms about burning him alive. fuck me Endeavor, I’m still rooting for your redemption arc my dude, but tbh if Dabi happens to pop up out of nowhere here looking for some revenge I’m not gonna say no to it right now. quit burning people alive!!

so now 12/21/2012 is zooming down an alley and Endeavor is zooming after him and telling some extra with a sword to stay and lead the evacuation

oh??

Endeavor have you flown yourself right into a trap?

oh my god what the fuck is this

it’s like Dabi VS the Liberation Army all over again. fucking check all these motherfuckers who apparently want to get themselves deep fried. this one guy really thinks he’s going to clock the Number One with a piece of fucking PVC pipe

LMAOOOOO

LOOKS LIKE WE GOT OURSELVES A RUCKUS, BOYS! you better believe I have the Powerpuff Girls theme song playing in my head right now

-- !!!

HAWKS!! I WAS STARTING TO WONDER IF YOU REALLY WERE THERE TOO OR IF THE PANELS IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER WERE DELIBERATELY MISLEADING

LOOOOOOL

pour one out for these poor sobs who somehow got themselves caught up in an accidental pincer attack between the dynamic fucking duo and fucking Angry Bird here. where the fuck is Shouto btw. or is he the one that got stuck carrying Endeavor’s jacket

loool look at Hawks out here making friends

SURPRISE BITCH

oh my god though you guys look at this??

HELLO SURPRISE NEW FAVORITE SERIES OF PANELS, CAN I JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO LOVE ON YOU A BIT HERE, BECAUSE

1. Bakugou and Deku IN PERFECT SYNC, not even thinking about it. just effortless. that was an amazing tag team thing you guys had going on before SOMEONE stepped in and ruined it all omg. do you want me to talk to Hawks for you. I’ve been meaning to discuss some other things with him anyway so it’s not like it’d be going out of my way. can you believe this fucking pigeon blocked my number. WHERE IS JEANIST YOU BASTARD

anyways 2. “I thought Endeavor might have been in a tough spot” that’s a funny way of saying “I was lonely and missed my angry arson dad”! and fucking look at this ridiculous bantering between them. “did it look like I was in a tough spot?” I FUCKING CAN’T YOU GUYS PLEASE STOP

and 3. Shouto just watching. is he impressed by his dad? or just trying to figure out whether Hawks is his dad’s adopted son or boyfriend. I’m pretty sure it’s the former, Shouto, but I don’t blame you for being confused, Hawks just has that kind of energy with everyone

oh my god

somebody arrest this man. I can’t fucking deal with your cheeky fucking face Hawks

is Skeptic getting all of this?? are they sitting there with bowls of popcorn back at the League of Pliff HQ trying to figure out whether Endeavor and Hawks are dating

...and shit, I just realized the League officially knows now that the disaster trio is interning with the number one. so that’s fucking great. not that it would have been a secret for long, but still, things are officially starting to get real. in hindsight, after the Kamino arc we had a nice long stretch of chapters in which Deku, Kacchan, and Shouto were not in immediate danger from the main fucking villains, so that was nice while it lasted I guess. those days will soon be behind us

ahhhklkljkl

fucking shit Hawks could you be any more ominous. oh my god this arc really is going to kill me

so now we’re cutting away to somewhere. Pliff?

-- oh, nope, still in the same place, we just fast-forwarded to the part where the police came to haul all the bad guys away

and now the manga is being all clever and foreshadowing-y and would you look at this

BUT IS HE TALKING ABOUT ENDEAVOR, OR HAWKS omg. or hell, he could even be talking about Deku. or AFO even though he’s not actually there. point is, you know he’s not actually wrong. but what is he actually trying to tell us ahhhhhh Servant of the Stars please reveal your secrets

(ETA: in all seriousness you guys, I’m fully down for counting this as a prophecy. it’s already canon that future-seeing quirks are a thing, so. the only problem is that this is some Game of Thrones-level ambiguity as far as who he’s actually talking about. it seriously could be anyone. anyways at least we’ve got some shiny new theory material to play around with here so that’s nice.)

LMAO

HAWKS YOU BASTARD, JUST LIKE THAT I’VE FORGIVEN YOU FOR THE FUCKING JEANOCIDE

how does every single person Deku meets not greet him this way?? I sure as hell would. “well if it isn’t the kid who just. fuckin blew up his own hands on live television, multiple times. salutations”

anyways where’s Katsuki, the boy whose previous hero mentor you murdered in cold blood but he doesn’t actually know that yet. when are we gonna start in on that?

Hawks says he’s heard about Deku from Tokoyami. and he even says he would have liked to work with Deku too, wow. that’s high praise

ffffff here it comes, THAT GOOD HAWKS ANGST. WE WERE WAITING FOR THIS BUT IT’S STILL BRUTAL GAH

is this entire arc just going to consist of Hawks saying cryptic things with double meanings known only to him and then glancing sideways at the camera all broodingly omg

AH, THERE HE IS

Katsuki’s natural instinct to dislike 100% of newcomers on sight might work out to his advantage here. Hawks’s maxed-out Charisma stats VS Katsuki’s middling Perception stats which nonetheless have a tendency to land high whenever he performs an ability check! I might need to back off from this metaphor though before it becomes really obvious that I don’t actually play D&D

lol

omg Endeavor can’t a guy just drop in on his grumpy pal out of the blue to make sure he’s doing okay without having some sort of ulterior motive? why are you so sure that Hawks showing up means that plot must be happening. because you’re not wrong, is the thing. but he’s probably just being standoffish for show

holy shit and now Hawks is just pulling out the Liberation Army’s book just like that?? IS HE ALLOWED TO DO THAT

(ETA: “let’s see, what’s a subtle way I can try and clue Endeavor in on the fact that I’ve become an undercover agent in the Paranormal Villain League of Liberation Front Armies. ... ...shit I’m not good at this.”)

and since when was this book called “Paranormal Liberation Front”?? did they change the title to match the new name?

and what’s Hawks’s game here, though? is he going to play it as though he’s secretly investigating Pliff? you know, like he actually is doing? is this some kind of hiding in plain sight thing or what

guys. is Hawks just... actually really bad at being a secret agent. omg

so he’s all “DESTRO’S IDEALS ARE EVERYTHING WE COULD ASK FOR” and lol what. fucking look at Endeavor’s face though

this motherfucker could use a boost of his own wisdom stats, fff

(ETA: swear to god he’s two seconds away from a Katsuki-style “hah?!”)

oh my god

fucking fuck me. he better have highlighted a really obvious section of that book, because otherwise I’m not gonna hold out hope for this message getting across at all. at least we know what that “recommendation” title was referring to now I guess

(ETA: Endeavor: [reading the highlighted section backwards] “‘‘it’s fun to smoke marijuana’!? what in the --”)

loooool

the fate of the world now rests upon Endeavor’s abilities to See Underneath The Underneath and somehow decipher that when Hawks says, “ENDEAVOR I CHASED YOU DOWN IN ORDER TO GIVE YOU A COPY OF THIS BOOK THE VILLAINS WROTE, I THINK IT’S REALLY KEEN AND YOU SHOULD CHECK IT OUT”, what he’s really saying is, “ENDEAVOR I NEED YOU TO INVESTIGATE THIS SUSPICIOUS ‘LIBERATION FRONT’ THAT’S BEEN COINCIDENTALLY GATHERING A LOT OF ATTENTION SINCE THAT SHADY INCIDENT IN DEIKA CITY WHERE ‘TWENTY GUYS' BASICALLY DESTROYED AN ENTIRE TOWN. IF YOU’RE TOO DENSE TO PICK UP ON ANY OF THAT, I HIGHLIGHTED THE RELEVANT PORTION OF THE BOOK SO HOPEFULLY EVEN AN OBLIVIOUS DUMBBELL LIKE YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT.” jesus christ

at least Endeavor now has some nerdy interns who fucking love to read. hell, Deku has probably already read the book. please help this dumb jock to understand his bird son’s coded message, Deku-Wan Kenobi, you’re our only hope

and that’s the end of the chapter! except that I heard there was a new poster for Heroes Rising that was released as well! how come it wasn’t included here now I have to go hunt it down

son of a bitch is this really the best quality that’s available? damn

well all right. not really much going on here that’s a big revelation or anything, aside from the surprise inclusion of Hawks in the upper right hand corner. did we know he was going to be in this? and like, even if the anime does make it as far as his debut in season 4, will it have reached that point by the time the movie premieres in December? glad I caught up beforehand if they’re gonna start spoiling things like this

so that’s all she wrote for this week! databook is due out next week so that should be fun! we’re finally going to get Hawks’s real name from what I understand. so I can start yelling at him using his full name like a disappointed mom. I have a feeling that’s going to come in handy a lot during this arc. go to your room young man

(ETA: and just watch it be the Japanese equivalent of “Judas McMurder” or some shit. smh. y’all. we stan a shady bitch.)

[gem-quest]

[ O P H E L I A ... ]

“There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you’ll be free, if you truly wish to be.” 
- Pure Imagination

Real Name: Catriona “Cat” Walsh Age: 20 FC: Saoirse Ronan Species & Class: Specter Bard Guild: Moonstone 
 Description of In-Game Powers: Specters are Gem Quest’s non-corporeal undead player race.  They’re notable for only having 9 stats instead of 10, with Strength being omitted from their stat lineup because they literally have no physical bodies.  Instead, their Willpower stat serves as their Strength equivalent.  This means they have a rechargeable meter of how much they can possibly interact with physical objects before taking a rest or recharging with a spell or potion.  Beyond that, Specters are distinguished by their inability to be damaged by non-magical weapons, increased susceptibility to light magic, and inability to be healed via healing potions or traditional physical healing spells (only a period of rest or spells/potions aimed at restoring mental wellness can heal them).  The non-magical weapon immunity is amazing lower levels, but it’s not long before everything thrown at you seems to be enchanted or blessed or cursed or whatever.  Weirdly enough, as far as the whole “incorporeal being” conceit is taken in other aspects, Specters can indeed take potions, as well as eat and drink.  They get decreased buffs from some potions and foods, though.  To balance this out, spells that provide small buffs and aren’t explicitly light-aligned are extra effective on them.

There’s a lot of frustration with the class because of its “fake” weapon resistance, since any old dagger with any mild enchantment or magical effect at all on it can hit them.  They can’t viably hit physical things in combat without specifically taking Knight, Rogue, Rider, or Mage-Knight as their class.  And even then, they’re arguably the weakest race choice in the game for non-magical melee combat.  Meanwhile, a lot of physical things and all magic can still hit them very hard very easily. 

All of this said, there ARE skills to really like here, too - namely, superb mobility.  Specters can pass through physical materials five feet thick or thinner as long as those materials aren’t specifically enchanted to prevent phasing.  They float slightly by default and have a rechargeable flight ability that allows them to lift much further off the ground in short bursts.  They also have a rechargeable ability (with more uses per charge than flight) that allows them to teleport from where they stand to any spot they can see within 20 feet without a spell as long as they haven’t been hit with an attack in the past 5 seconds.  This gives them excellent mobility even in the heat of battle and allows them to have a lot of control over their position and angle.  It also means that it’s often smarter for them to worry less about defense than about being hard to hit in the first place.

Place of Birth: Dublin, Ireland

Appearance: Ophelia has a Specter’s signature slightly translucent skin, under-saturated color palette, and skirt hem/legs that trail off into mist.  Her eyes are a stormy gray, and her wardrobe is almost exclusively black and white.  When it comes to fashion, she prefers some of the more dark Victorian-inspired looks in the game as opposed to the high fantasy, renaissance, or medieval looks that a lot of other characters favor.  That said, she’s got a pretty extensive and well-curated wardrobe behind her.  She considers it highly important that she have at least one appropriate black and white ensemble to wear in each and every level in order to fit in with the theme.  That said, she also has her own signature look that she uses as her “default” (the outfit she’s wearing in her pic at the top of her audition - full-body edit to be shared later!).  Oh, and she loves gloves and capes.  LOVES THEM.  And kind of hoards them, tbh.

Places Most Likely to be Found In-Game: Ophelia’s favorite haunt at the moment is the City of Magic in Level 11.  It’s the logical home base for a character who’s both a crafting/magical class AND a ghost. There’s a high enough concentration of both useful items and ingredients AND sufficiently gothic-flavored areas and NPCs to suit all her needs, both practical and aesthetic. She’s set up her own little shop in one of the many background spooky haunted house locations within the shadier-looking part of the city, and her Aesthetic demands she sometimes hangs out at the city’s main graveyard.  

Beyond that, she can sometimes be found in various libraries and shops across the levels she can access, looking for interesting bits of crafting knowledge, hints of new items she could try cobbling together, and items that she could modify or combine with something to make can even more useful item.  She’s also been known to turn up in random wilderness or roadway portions of levels in the first half of the game, foraging for crafting components that grow or randomly generate within those environments.

Current Inventory:

Screaming Lute (x1): Ophelia is very, exceedingly proud of her combat lute.  She crafted it herself out of her bardic starter instrument.  Specter Bards begin the game with an instrument they are capable of interacting with consistently.  Cat has decided that, within Ophelia’s story, this was Ophelia’s lute in life, and it was destroyed shortly before her death as a way of intimidating her.  Anyhow, Ophelia has heavily modified her starting weapon to the point that she thinks of it as an entirely new item.  It’s covered in strange etched carvings and shifts between glowing with an eerie red light from the inside and constantly trailing wisps of white smoke.  She uses it as her primary weapon in the game, as strumming specific notes and chords on the lute lights up some of the etchings and fires off various spells and magical effects and spells Ophelia has been able to learn.  The lute downright shrieks whenever she uses it to cast a spell.  How does it work, you might ask?  That is a very long story, and one I’m saving for another post XD  Most of the spells Ophelia has at her disposal are cast through her rune-covered lute and will be catalogued in her lute info.

Whispering Flute (x1): Ophelia likes rhymes and the aesthetics of symmetry.  A secondary combat and utility weapon of hers, this is a flute enchanted to fire off up to three charges of Ventium per day, and one charge of Murmurationium per day.  A good insurance weapon to sneak into a dangerous social situation, as it’s a perfectly normal and usable flute until she uses it to unleash the fury of the cold cruel winds of death upon you XD

Empty Unbreakable Bottle (x5): Ophelia favors magical items strongly because Specters can interact with non-martial ones automatically, without having to expend any extra effort or have at least X amount of Willpower to do so.  Unbreakable Bottles are the cheapest magical container commonly for sale in game that’s capable of reliably holding liquids, so Ophelia likes to store all liquids important to her in them.  And she likes to have at least a couple of empty ones on her at all times in case she wants to take a sample of something or otherwise just needs one.

Unbreakable Bottle of Rune Ink (x5): Rune Ink is an item that can be used as permanent and unfading ink that’s nigh impossible to remove or cover up.  More importantly, though, it allows a PC with knowledge of the game’s runes, basically a language of magic that appears in a level or two and on some items, to write runic symbols that absorb nearby magical energy and store it within the object with runes written on it.

Enchanted Carving Tools (x1): Basic carving tools, enchanted to be able to create magical items and inscriptions.  Ophelia uses them for crafting both magical and non-magical items, since any given item needs to be enchanted for her to be able to actively use it for long stretches of time anyway.

Enchanted Mending Kit (x1): Enchanted mending/tinker’s tools able to repair magical items without damaging their magical properties.  Ophelia uses these to repair any repairable item sent her way, for the same reason she also uses enchanted carving tools for everything.

Paxanimi Potion (x3): A potion that mitigates psychic damage or corruption and provides a temporary boost to a player’s Psyche stat.  For Ophelia, as a Specter, this is the closest thing she gets to a reliably available health potion.

Psychometry Scroll (x1): Allows caster to make one inquiry about the past of an object or place, then projects a scene or quote from the object’s or place’s history that provides a relevant answer to that question into the caster’s mind.  Without crafting very specific questions, the results can often be vague and unhelpful, as the game will take the path of least resistance in providing a vision that meets the requirements of the inquiry.

Ictuium Scroll (x1)

Second Sight Scroll (x1) (Learning)

Assorted Random Crafting Bits and Scraps

She actually has more inventory kept hidden away within her home base rather than coming with her everywhere.  Most of it is just more tools and materials and many, many changes of clothes.

“How much does it weigh?  Can I touch, smell, and taste it?  Can I put it in my inventory?  Is it magical?  Is it combustible?  How many knowledge checks can I roll on it?  Does it match my outfit?  Can I keep it?” - Catriona, literally every time she sees any new item in D&D

Strongest character trait: Imagination

Strengths: Ophelia is an immensely imaginative and resourceful person who comes to Gem Quest from a background of extensive fiction reading and making famously effective TTRPG characters.  It helps that she researched Gem Quest *extensively* before starting and continued to be active in forums and the GQ Wiki right up through getting stuck, along with getting early advice and support from a beta tester acquaintance.  Her ideas are typically wildly innovative and a bit risky, but to her credit, they pay off more often than not.  She’s slow to trust others with much critical personal information, but pretty open to giving others a chance and to judging people based on her own experience rather than on gossip.  Thinking on her feet is second nature to her, and she’s rarely at a loss for ideas.  Her devotion to her character and planned story arc have helped her to maintain a degree of focus and stability that’s thus far proven to be her most valuable coping mechanism. 

She’s generally friendly and pleasant despite her spooky aesthetic, story, and demeanor, and she will genuinely try to help anyone who asks her for it.  In business and in social encounters, Ophelia is considerate, well-mannered, and often downright chatty, though she usually knows to take a hint when people make it clear that they don’t want to talk.  She makes and offers a selection of odd but useful items at very fair prices because she’s not here to make a profit - she just needs enough resources to keep going.  She’s earned a bit of good will based on that.  Her skill in puzzle and strategy-based quests and willingness to dispense hints on the above, along with her crafting, has garnered her a good reputation as a support player and PC shopkeeper within her guild.

Weaknesses: Even knowing that the game is now a matter of life and death, Ophelia still seems to care more about her in-game narrative and goals than practicality, survivability, or winning.  A vibrant creative type who wishes no irl harm to anybody, she has a hard time conceiving that even the most blatantly destructive PCs would truly do harm to anyone outside the narrative.  She catches most of the references you make and then obnoxiously, steadfastly denies that she has caught them if you inquire, because Star Wars doesn’t exist in the world of Gem Quest and of Ophelia, dammit!  While her coping methods might be working for her internally for now, her devotion to staying in-character makes her a bit of an acquired taste.  She is very, very particular about sticking to character, even when it’d be more practical and less annoying for her to drop it. She’s been known to make important decisions that risk her safety (and sometimes, indirectly, that of others) in the name of “authenticity” to her character and story plans. 

Far, far too curious and adventurous for someone with a Defense stat of 2.  She has lots and lots of interesting ideas, all of which she gives equal chance to, plenty of which aren’t good.  Just because her creative ideas pay off more often than not doesn’t mean that there aren’t times when they don’t pay off.  And when they don’t pay off, they tend to not pay off SPECTACULARLY.  Reasonably likely to get herself killed enacting some inventive and exceedingly high-risk scheme to take out a dangerous boss before it can do damage. 

For some folks, the mix of creepy aesthetics and backstory and acting choices with effusive goodwill and pleasantness is more off-putting than inviting.  Arguably talks too much, especially when she’s nervous or upset.  Has a weakness for getting emotionally involved with NPCs, particularly minor NPCs with chains of side quests or that can serve as temporary companions, despite theoretically knowing that they’re just chunks of code.  Seems physically incapable of just sitting back and relaxing for a few without having to start some new project or come up with some new big subplot or plan. 

Plenty of folks are happy to buy her crafted items, but she has a bad reputation as an active combatant due to a few infamous Incidents.  At this point, only the truly uninformed, the truly desperate, the truly experimental, or the truly crazy in Moonstone would willingly party up with her XD

“Death has made me less than kind.  And very, very creative with a broken lute, who knew?” - Ophelia

Player Stats: Ophelia’s defensive strategy in combat is just to not be hit at all.  Her Defense stat is dangerously low, with any points that could buff it up as she’s gained levels and experience instead going to Agility and Luck.  She prefers to draw her “defense” from stats that she can get more versatile use out of.  She’s unusually low in Charisma for a Bard and has only enough Willpower to allow her to craft with physical items.  She can’t wield non-magical weapons at all.  However, she opted to invest a bit more in Psyche than a lot of other players did since a lot of a Specter’s durability lies in their emotional stability.  She also has uncommonly high Intelligence, which combines with her Psyche and Luck to equip her well for puzzle-based and strategy-based challenges.

STRENGTH: X

DEFENSE: 2

CHARISMA: 6

PSYCHE: 7

WILLPOWER: 7

CAUTIOUSNESS: 4

AGILITY: 8

ENDURANCE: 5

INTELLIGENCE: 9

LUCK: 8


Personality: (A lot of this is already in her strengths and weaknesses, so I’m putting a bit of a summary and some extra detail in here.)

She eats fictional media for breakfast, means well, talks a lot and talks often, has an overall spooky quirky nice one vibe (you know the type), fancies herself an actress regardless of the feedback she might receive, will (un)live and die in-character out of a fruity cocktail of artistic integrity and spite, is the Bard equivalent of a TV mad scientist who tends to cause the problem at the start of the episode with an experiment and then solve it in the last 2 minutes with a crazy genius plan that’s then shown to have not *totally* worked in a post-episode stinger, and is too smart for anyone’s good.  

Building a clear narrative here helps her bring some degree of organization and order to the wild creative whirlpool that is her brain.  She’d never considered herself much of an escapist until she discovered GQ, where she hasn’t escaped from responsibilities and work and struggle so much as she’s found an intoxicating degree of control over what her responsibilities and work and struggle are.  She can write a meaningful story here, be its central driving force, have the impact she increasingly feels like she’ll just never be able to have in real life, and stick her epic quest out to a glorious conclusion.  Ironically, she’s a weird mix of always needing an outline and a sense of narrative while ALSO constantly bursting with new ideas and clever but risky plans that she takes quite seriously.  Cat harbors perpetual mild guilt for feeling so restless and unhappy - after all, she’s lived comfortable life and has a family who loves, and it’s not like people have to like anything she makes or does or says in order for her to have a high quality of life.

“Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.” - James Joyce

Biography: Catriona Walsh was born in Dublin, Ireland to an Irish mother and an American father of Irish descent.  The family moved to New York City for her father’s job when she was just 5, but she and her mom remain close with her mom’s side of the family back in Ireland.  After 3 years in New York, the family moved to Columbus, Ohio, where Cat spent the rest of her young life, except for summers.  Most summers since she was 13, she’s stayed a couple months with an aunt and uncle who own a small tour company in Dublin.  From 16 on, she’s been helping with business while there.  Now she’s at college in Dublin and working at the company on the weekends, in exchange for staying with her relatives. She’s studying business for her parents and literature for herself.  

Cat has always had a great fondness for the tour company, though mostly for the actual tour guide end of it.  She’s a natural storyteller and explorer who delights in going off the beaten trail and sharing all she knows about xyz subject with anyone who seems interested.  Unfortunately, her improvisational bent has landed her in trouble with her aunt and uncle more than once.  There are schedules to keep and itineraries people pay to be taken through, after all.  This landed her behind the front desk of the office answering phone calls and administering group ticket sales, which she very nearly hates.

School is hard, especially with her true interest pushed to the side by necessity.  Feeling like none of her ideas ever get taken seriously is hard.  Making friends that last beyond one semester sharing a class is hard, and as she gets further into her college career, her future looks increasingly stifled and bleak to her.  Attempts to get some poetry and original music off the ground haven’t gone anywhere, ending in some spikes of faceless nastiness that prompted her to delete her one YouTube account and take a step back from social media about a year and a half ago.  Sure, she knows she’s supposed to have a thicker skin than that if she wants to go anywhere, and she *does* want to go somewhere.  But she can’t seem to make her skin much thicker.  She wants to argue with her uncle and aunt a bit more, as she increasingly disagrees with them on quite a few things, but they’re both extremely conflict averse, and she can be extremely lacking in tact about things she’s suitably worked up over.  

Through it all, she knows full well that so so many people have it worse, and that she has no reason to feel restless and dissatisfied and unhappy.  It’s just that she has a hard time connecting with people and feeling heard. She’s not alone, so why is she lonely?  Cat takes refuge in being the zany, intensely individualistic artist who’s sometimes worth inviting to a party for the interest value and who surely has friends somewhere - you just haven’t ever met them.  

For the past year or so, all the time Cat has for herself and an increasing amount of time that used to go into schoolwork has been split between her long-time refuge in tabletop roleplaying and her new favorite place: Gem Quest.  She’s part of two Dungeons & Dragons games currently being run on Roll20 (well, was a part of them, anyway), both of which she plays as a multiclassed build with some degree of casting put together for a mix of strong utility and intricate storytelling.  Gem Quest continues a years-long trend of being in love with exactly one fantasy video game at a time and playing it as much as possible, though it’s her first MMORPG.  

Catriona researched Gem Quest *extensively* before ever getting it or creating her character.  She heard about it from a fellow member of one of her online D&D groups, an avid gamer happened to be a beta tester.  Cat was drawn in by the idea of being able to entirely occupy the space of a created hero within a sprawling fantasy setting and be a version of herself designed as a protagonist in a world designed to be impacted by her.  She had a cousin who had a VR headset but decided it just wasn’t really his thing, so it wasn’t hard to convince him to let her use it for this.  After waiting to see more setting and story info during the early general release and researching everything there was to know about GQ thus far, including via discussion with her beta tester acquaintance, she entered into the game a short while after launch. She’s had time to level up, mostly in being an item crafter and utility character with a surprising capacity to serve as a highly mobile glass canon blaster (and inexhaustible source of very creative and very insane plans) in combat.

She also has a whole, novella-length backstory for her character - a summary of which I will post later! - that she treats as her character bible and guide for all in-game interactions.  It’s based on a single image of a skeleton in a black and white dress in some official art of one of the higher levels where there are a lot of scenic skeletons lying around.  This is the sort of brain Cat has XD



Ophelia, as a character, is the ghost of a minor noblewoman and court musician who was betrayed when she starting poking around into the disappearance of her older brother at court.  Her desires to find her brother and for vengeance brought her back as a Specter, but she came back a world away from the place she died and has to go on a quest to make it back and finish her story.  Cat built the character to be tied to a mid-to-late game puzzle-heavy level so she could have a big climatic Moment there.  Then, she’d continue to the end in search of her fictional brother.  Ophelia wields a spectral lute as a spellcasting focus and spends a lot of time pursuing leads about both her brother and her murderer (aka quests Cat finds thematically/aesthetically good for Ophelia).

Cat is VERY set on seeing this plot through and being the hero of her story, from start to finish, despite what’s happening with the game now.  She does her part to provide puzzle guides and crafting support for those working to beat the game, but she’s not going to rush through her story and suddenly snap back to being poor little ungrateful and inexplicably depressed Cat who has no place in anything and can’t do anyone much good with what she’s got.  While she’s in the game, she’s going to be Ophelia.  At least Ophelia has a *reason* to be unhappy and restless, a wildly creative and wildly striving brain tied to the world with a few wisps of smoke.  And at least Ophelia is good at what she does.

Never mind how much she adored aggressive exploration and creative combat at first.  She’s learned well enough that she’s just a liability there, she’s bad at being in a group, and, not so different from real life, she’s at her best when she’s just at the shop counter being support.  She’s already been booted from a couple of parties over her crazy plans, play style, and general personality. And there have been more than enough incidents with her pulling something crazy because it was in-character and genuinely seemed like a good solution with the resources given, usually with at least decent results but always with high risk, that no one in the know is willing to party up with her anymore. 

She’s kind of stuck either in her shop or going solo.  At least she makes good things, though, right?  And she’s just taking her plot slow because of she’s savoring and developing her story, not because people don’t really like conquering life beside her out here either, right?

Right?

Relationships: I’m very much open to some plotting and planning with anyone who’d like to try working something out!

In regards to side characters or such of my own, I have some ideas already for this.  I’ll fill these in as I finalize my ideas a bit more!

Char 1 -

Char 2 -

Char 3 -

Playlist: TBF Pinterest: TBF Extra: TBF

[forestwater87]

Underrated Characters Appreciation Weeks I’m too lazy to set up....

...but I’m proud of myself for having created. So if y’all wanna adopt any of these, you can go wild (please tag me though! I wanna see them!). Otherwise, shower me with praise.

(They’re very writing-heavy and often just a list of questions, so if you borrow anything feel free to tweak as suits your inspiration; the questions/suggestions are really just to get people thinking!)

I’m gonna put them below the cut so it doesn’t get too long, but you have to look forward to:

Jasper Appreciation Week

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

Gwen Appreciation Week

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

QM Appreciation Week

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

Nerris Appreciation Week

Space Kid Appreciation Week

Ered Appreciation Week

Harrison Appreciation Week

Dolph Appreciation Week

Nikki Appreciation Week

Preston Appreciation Week

Nurf Appreciation Week

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

Jasper Appreciation Week

Who doesn’t love this good good ghost boy?

Day 1: 90s Kid -- Depict Jasper doing something radical.

Day 2: Jasper’s Camp -- Show off Jasper’s time as Camp Campbell’s golden boy.

Day 3: David -- It’s the only character he has a real canon relationship with . . .

Day 4: Life After Death -- What does he do with himself on that there island all day?

Day 5: All Grown Up -- We’ve all thought about it.

Day 6: Best Friend to Campers -- Pick a non-David character and develop his relationship with them.

Day 7: Spookily Ever After -- How does Jasper’s story end? On Spooky Island forever? Leaving this realm? Becoming the camp’s new mascot? Or was he somehow alive the whole time? Let your imagination go wild!

Cameron Campbell Appreciation Week

He’s sleazy. He’s morally bankrupt. He’s everyone’s favorite non-blonde-twink villain!

Day 1: Shady Business Dealings -- What’s Campbell up to when he’s not at camp? What does he want with Camp Campbell? Was that Nazi gold in his vault? Something’s fishy here, and I’m curious what everyone thinks is going on.

Day 2: Mysterious Past -- How on earth does someone like Campbell happen, anyway? This could be stuff about his childhood, how he got into . . . whatever illegal nonsense he’s up to, how he met QM, even how he got away with not getting in trouble for what happened to Jasper.

Day 3: Spooky Island -- Seriously, what on earth was going on in that house? Focus on the coolest/creepiest thing in there and go nuts.

Day 4: Fears & Other Random Headcanons -- Basically your Free Space day.

Day 5: Boss Man -- Focusing specifically on his relationships with the counselors.

Day 6: (Relation)Ships -- Yeah, yeah, gotta have it somewhere. This one is pretty open to interpretation, and should be considered platonic or not. Just depict the most interesting/fun relationship you think Campbell has. Is that cold black heart even capable of affection, anyway? (If you think he’s a foxy grandpa, go wild today.)

Day 7: What Happens Next? -- Is he gonna ever leave that cave? Team up with Daniel? Gone for good? What’s up ahead for the most notorious criminal who’s ever run a summer camp?

Gwen Appreciation Week

I mean, come on. You knew I was gonna do it.

Day 1: Background -- There are a lot of interesting headcanons about Gwen’s backstory, cultural heritage, etc. City girl or country bumpkin, Latina or African-American or rich or poor or college dropout or whatever, pick what you think is the most interesting headcanon for Gwen (something that’s related to her time before the show, that is) and go nuts.

Day 2: Favorite Camper -- Pick one of the kiddos and have them bond with their grumpiest caregiver.

Day 3: All Dolled Up -- She’s always in that counselor uniform. What does she look like outside of camp?

Day 4: Ships -- Obviously.

Day 5: That Tragic Plot Twist -- If you have an idea what makes Gwen such a grumpy disaster of panic and unemployment -- or just want to have fun making things unnecessarily dark for such a lighthearted cartoon which I know you do; I’ve read the fanfiction -- it’s time to unleash the angst.

Day 6: Anywhere Else -- AUs! AUs in all directions! Gwen doesn’t want to be at camp, so let’s plop her into another world where she might be happier . . . or might not be.

Day 7: A Campbell Camper? Whether you think Gwen was one of the kids who grew up at Camp Campbell or not, I think we’d all agree it’d be fun to imagine.

Bonquisha Appreciation Week

Because she deserves it and will probably kill you if you don’t appreciate her enough. 

Day 1: Those Wild Shirts -- Draw her in another fantastic outfit, or speculate where her amazing fashion sense (and vanity plates) came from. She has a filthy mouth and a whole lotta confidence, and the first day of this week is to celebrate that!

Day 2: Home Sweet Trailer -- Put her in her house on 69 Dirt Rd. and think about what kinds of things a girl like Bon would call home.

Day 3: Dog -- She has one. Tell us about it!

Day 4: Work/Hometown HCs -- What does someone even do in a town that small? Whether you think she’s a waitress alongside that cute pink-haired gal, or if she lives out of town and drove up to see David, ponder a little bit of what Bonquisha does in or around Sleepy Peak and show it to us.

Day 5: Bonvid -- How did that relationship with David crash and burn so hard, anyway? And what does it look like after that episode?

Day 6: Other Relationships -- Bonquisha vs. Tabii, or Gwenquisha, or bffs with Dirty Kevin, or any sort of connection you’d like to expand upon or forge between Bon-Bon and another character in the show. Hell, draw her and Jacob if you think that’s cute; it’s canon, after all.

Day 7: Muscles to Die For -- She’s big and beautiful and could absolutely murder everyone. Let’s just spend out last day appreciating how very much of a badass Bonquisha is.

Dirty Kevin Appreciation Week

The very goodest alternative Den Mother there ever was.

Day 1: Probably a Real Brat -- What was he like as a kid or teenager?

Day 2: Drugs & More Drugs -- Show us Kevin hard at work or tell us how he got into this crazy business.

Day 3: That Red Hoodie -- It’s kind of his trademark, and this is a day to appreciate it.

Day 4: From Sleepy Peak to Mexico -- Take your favorite part from Kevin’s debut appearance and do something fun with it.

Day 5: Den Mommy -- We’ve all thought about Dirty Kevin as a Flower Scout mother, and if you haven’t, you’re lying.

Day 6: Cleaned Up -- Get him a nice facial grooming and some good clothes, and you could have a handsome gentleman right there. What on earth would that look like? 

Day 7:  Not Such a Lone Wolf -- Whether you have an OTP or just love the idea of Kevin being friends with certain characters, show us who you think he has a soft spot for.

QM Appreciation Week

Listen, we’re all a little afraid of him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the spotlight for a bit. Even if we know he’ll probably do unspeakable things in and to that spotlight.

Day 1: God or Just Crazy? Whether it’s his apparent inability to age or how he can magically find little woodland paradises in the middle of the camp, there’s a lot of weird going on there. Celebrate the man who may or may not be a murderer and may or may not actually be a literal deity and all his strange, often supernatural weirdness.

Day 2: Hook -- Hey, how’d he lose that hand?

Day 3: Man vs. Squirrels -- He has a blood feud with many woodland creatures.

Day 4: QM Store -- There’s a lot of wacky stuff in there. What did you like best, or what do you think was hidden in the corners that we didn’t get to see?

Day 5: Bonding -- QM’s been there for a long (long long long) time, and he’s clearly known Campbell and David at least for years. Pick a character and explore what their relationship with the Quartermaster might be like.

Day 6: Tontine -- So what on earth was going on there?

Day 7: Camp Specter -- Regardless of how you approached Day 1, the fact remains that for whatever reason, the Quartermaster is at Camp Campbell for good. You can speculate why he’s there or just show us him hard at work doing . . . whatever he does, but today I just wanna see our beloved QM lurking around the camp!

Other Secondary Characters Appreciation Week

To all those characters who hang out in the background, making the campers’ shenanigans more fun.

Day 1: Daniel -- I don’t consider him in any way under-appreciated, but he’s a pretty spectacular way to kick off Season 2, and also this week.

Day 2: Platypus -- Mother of six five four three two one lunch and terror of the camp.

Day 3: Cute Waitress -- Y’all sure do love her. Show your love!

Day 4: Jermy Fartz -- Oh yeah. I went there.

Day 5: Darla & Gregg -- How can anyone who isn’t David be that excited about camping? Were they totally secretly dating? Where are they now, and how did they get there?

Day 6: The Denizens of Sleepy Peak -- Whether your heart belongs to Lester, Fred, the old geezers, or any of the others populating the nearby town, it’s time to show them some love.

Day 7: Parents -- How else would we end this week but with some family bonding?

Elevated Extras Appreciation Week

They’re not as memorable as the secondary characters. They don’t even have lines. But they’re ours and we love them.

Day 1: Former Campbell Campers -- we see in the picture on David’s bulletin board that there were a lot of kids who used to come to the camp. Show or tell us about your favorite!

Day 2: Camp Counselor of the Year Judges -- What was up with those guys? Were they even human?

Day 3: Other Camps -- Lake Lilac is home to Teen Church Camp, Pirate Camp, and who knows how many others? Let’s enjoy them!

Day 4: Larry -- Poor, poor undeserving Larry. RIP, my fuzzy man.

Day 5: Scotty -- Visual comedy camp? Seriously?

Day 6: Chucky -- What happened to him anyway?

Day 7: Your choice! Think I forgot the most important one? Time to correct that mistake! (Listen, if you’re mad I didn’t include Jen, consider this the Jen space.)

Nerris Appreciation Week

Devoted to the real(?) magic kid.

Day 1: The Cute -- Artists, draw how cute she is! Writers, maybe think about how the nickname came about! Or do something completely different! I don’t care!

Day 2: Magic War -- Explore her relationship with Harrison.

Day 3: Elf-kin -- What does that even look like? What does it mean?

Day 4: Bonding with Mere Mortals -- The camp is full of people and animals. Pick one and play with their relationship with Nerris.

Day 5: Dice -- What do they look like? How did she get them?

Day 6: Fandom -- A girl that excited about fantasy has to be quite the fan of a lot of things. Show us her interacting with her favorite stuff.

Day 7: Her Party -- Her relationship with her slightly-clueless mother and extremely-geeky dad.

Space Kid Appreciation Week

The most obvious appreciation week in the entire world.

Day 1: Astronaut -- Whether you want to show him all grown up or as a little kid, give us a glimpse of what Neil the real-life spaceman would be like.

Day 2: Aliens -- Another type of spaceman.

Day 3: Fishbowl -- A day to just appreciate his adorable, impractical costume.

Day 4: Punching Bag -- He’s been pushed around and disregarded by Max, Nurf, Max, the counselors, various animals, and Max. This is a day dedicated to his unfortunate luck and indomitable good spirit.

Day 5: Sick -- After that trip he took across the lake to the moon, and barely surviving the flu zombies, Space Kid could probably use some patching up.

Day 6: Science Guys -- The two Neils, bonding.

Day 7: SPACE!!! -- Give us Space Kid interacting with his favorite hobby ever.

Ered Appreciation Week

A very very cool week.

Day 1: Skater -- Even on the camp’s awful cardboard halfpipe, Ered’s still a budding Tony Hawk.

Day 2: Dye -- Dedicated to her awesome -- dare we say cool? -- hair.

Day 3: Camp Kool Kidz -- Celebrate her short-lived tenure as the head of Camp Campbell.

Day 4: Extreme -- What other extreme sports does she like to get up to?

Day 5: Queen Bee -- Her relationship with one or more of the other campers.

Day 6: Wipeout -- She gets injured a lot, doesn’t she?

Day 7: Cool Gay FBI Dads -- They’re the most wholesome family that regularly gets into gunfights.

Harrison Appreciation Week

Devoted to the . . . real(?) magic kid? (Didn’t we already do this?)

Day 1: Harry’s Son -- His outfit is pure Vegas showman, his VA and accent seem to suggest Israeli descent, and he may or may not be a literal wizard. His parents are terrified of him, but his mom says he’ll grow into his looks. Give some backstory to this lovable kid and his love of illusions.

Day 2: Actual, Real, Terrifying Magic -- This kid isn’t messing around. From summoning fireballs to making both objects and living things appear and disappear, he has some serious supernatural chops.

Day 3: Apprenticeship -- He and Nikki’s relationship consists of equal parts mutual admiration and mayhem. What do the two of them get up to behind the scenes?

Day 4: Brother -- Time for theories (and angst, of course angst) about how and why he “made his brother disappear.” 

Day 5: Any Resemblance to Bill Cipher is Pure Coincidence -- . . . probably. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t fun to imagine that crossover!

Day 6: Frenemies -- Harrison has a habit of getting on people’s nerves. Pick at least one character and develop their relationship with the magic kid.

Day 7: Hufflepuff Pride -- Jordan Cwierz confirmed it! This last day is about celebrating all things yellow and black and (mostly) well-intentioned.

Dolph Appreciation Week

I know, he’s controversial. But he’s a kid with a passion for art and no understanding of history, and he could use some love as well.

Day 1: Painting -- Exactly what it says on the tin. While he is clearly skilled at lots of different types of art, this is the one he seems to like the most.

Day 2: Where’s the Yellow? He is the only one who doesn’t wear anything camp-themed. Give us a glimpse of what might’ve happened to that signature yellow clothing.

Day 3: Stage Manager -- Multiple times throughout the series Dolph is shown as Preston’s right-hand man by helping him design sets and acting in his plays; Preston even returns the favor by posing for a painting. Today is dedicated to the strange relationship of the theatre and art kids.

Day 4: Camp Counselor of the Year! Incredibly, Dolph appears to be quite the competent leader for his age, and his one day of running the camp went smoothly for the most part. Maybe he has the makings of a great counselor after all.

Day 5: The Elephant in the Room -- We all knew it was coming. Whether you find the Hitler jokes hilarious or offensive, everyone has an opinion about this particular character choice. Now’s the time to speculate what happens when he gets older, or completely retcon this aspect of his personality, or do whatever you’d like to with his . . . peculiarities.

Day 6: Father Issues -- According to the show’s wiki, “his father is an American lieutenant, who raised him on a German army base where he supposedly gained a love of art and soccer like many Europeans, much to his father's dismay.” Oof, that’s a lot to unpack. Time for backstory!

Day 7: Not Such a Bad Kid -- Despite his . . . controversial elements, Dolph as a character seems fairly sweet and oblivious, and is loved by a significant portion of the fanbase for these qualities. A free day of sorts, this is about accentuating the positive and appreciating the awkward, artistic weirdo underneath the jokes.

Nikki Appreciation Week

I was really close to not including this, because I don’t consider her an underrated character exactly, but Neil has a week and, let’s be honest, it’d be fun.

Day 1: Rough n’ Tumble -- Nikki isn’t afraid of fighting, and she’s no stranger to getting dirty or even hurt. Show the wild child doing something fun, reckless, and probably not very smart.

Day 2: Raised by Wolves -- Imagine an AU where she actually was as much a literal daughter of the forest as she wants to be.

Day 3: Just a Tiny Bit Traditional -- Despite being such a tomboy, there’s a part of Nikki that is deeply romantic and even maternal. Whether through a version of her that’s a bit older or a quiet moment at the camp, show us a little bit more of her gentle side.

Day 4: BFFs, Potential Step Siblings, Sidekicks -- A day to appreciate Neil and Nikki’s relationship, whatever you see that as.

Day 5: Flower Scout Nikki -- What was her time across the lake like?

Day 6: Parent Troubles -- She and her mom have a difficult relationship, and her dad doesn’t seem to be around that much. Show us Nikki and one or more of her guardians, and what that relationship might be like.

Day 7: Holidays! Her first and greatest love is Christmas, but there’s probably not a holiday she wouldn’t throw herself into. Give her a chance to celebrate any holiday you want!

Preston Appreciation Week

Get ready for some high-octane theatrics!

Day 1: A Flair for the Dramatic -- I don’t care what you do with this one, just give it lots of DRAMA!

Day 2: Speak Up -- Preston and his grandmother are really close, but his parents seem to be AWOL. Every Appreciation Week needs a backstory- and/or family-centric day, and that’s what this is.

Day 3: Cosplay -- What’s Preston’s favorite play? Let’s have him dress up like a character in that show.

Day 4: Stage Presence -- Give the boy a spotlight and an audience!

Day 5: The Bard -- He seems to love writing and directing even more than performing. Show him creating the next Hamilton (or more likely, Hamilton’s weird sequel involving pirates and aliens).

Day 6: Theater Nerd -- Either as a high school AU or just some time in the future, image Preston fully engrossed in that drama club life.

Day 7: Tribe -- Every weirdo has their group of friends. Either through OCs or other characters in Camp Camp, give or describe the people that make up the group in which he belongs.

Nurf Appreciation Week

Gaylord Nurfington, much like Shrek, is like an onion: smelly, surprisingly layered, and will probably make you cry.

Day 1: Big N Tough -- He’s built like a brick shithouse and mean as a bear, and that’s part of why we love him. Celebrate the fact that this guy can (and probably will) kick anyone’s ass.

Day 2: Theater Kid? -- We’ve seen Nurf involved in Preston’s productions more than once. Have some fun with his apparent interest in the performing arts.

Day 3: His Mother’s Boy -- Mother and son time!

Day 4: Surprising Depths -- Show Nurf doing something no one would ever have thought he would enjoy and/or be good at.

Day 5: A Thoughtful Bully . . . -- As the self-proclaimed most self-actualized character in the show, Nurf has proven to be remarkably cognizant of his own issues and respectful of others’. Give him a positive-ish interaction with another character.

Day 6: . . . Is Still a Bully -- But let’s be real: Nurf can be a total jerk. Let the kid be mean today!

Day 7: Knives -- Where the hell is he getting all of those, anyway? Regardless, show Nurf with his favorite toys.

Flower Scouts Appreciation Week

They’ll kill you with a smile and fantastic hair, then they��ll use their drug contacts to bury the bodies.

Day 1: Grace & Class -- No one is prettier and daintier than these angels -- and nobody knows it better than them.

Day 2: Nicer than Disneyland -- Whether you’d like to focus on their shady cookie dealings, the washed-up Miss Priss, or even invent your own Scout, give yourself a chance to explore a part of the Flower Scouts that hasn’t been given much screentime yet.

Day 3: Sasha -- A day dedicated to the quintessential Queen Bee. Manipulative, clever, and pretty damn selfish, Sasha is undoubtedly the leader of the Scouts, and you better respect it.

Day 4: Erin -- If your heart hasn’t been captured by this heterochromatic science nerd, this day is not for you. But for the rest of us, grab your pumpkin spice and head off to Fraaaaance to celebrate her!

Day 5: Tabii -- What she lacks in common sense she makes up for with being absolutely terrifying. Tabii-with-two-eyes-with-one-eye is an emotional rollercoaster, and she deserves a little bit of love today.

Day 6: Not-So Delicate Girls -- From drug empires to vats of acid, the Flower Scouts have proven that they can kick a whole lot of ass. Show off how tough these girly-girls can really be!

Day 7: Garden Mother Kevin -- Come on. You knew it was coming.

Woodscouts Appreciation Week

They might be the cartoon answer to what would happen if Stormtroopers were body-swapped with Boy Scouts, but that’s part of their charm.

Day 1: A Shadowy Organization -- No girls are allowed, they don’t appear to have a troop leader, their camp is impenetrable, there seem to be maybe 5 Scouts at most . . . Pick something cool about this creepy camp and play around with it.

Day 2: Bitter Rivalries -- Between risky bets against Camp Campbell and popcorn/cookie sales against the Flower Scouts, it seems like the WS have a problem with basically everyone. Depict one or more interaction between them and their most bitter enemies.

Day 3: A New Recruit -- How on earth does Jermy fit into the Woodscouts’ routine? How has he not accidentally (or not-so accidentally) been incapacitated yet?

Day 4: Fearless Leader -- He’s slimy in more ways than one, but he keeps Troop #818 together and has even managed to snag a few recruits. That alone is worth a day of appreciation.

Day 5: Strong & Silent -- For someone who doesn’t talk much, Petrol has a lot of good advice and personality. Let’s celebrate his bromance with Snake, his willingness to be sacrificed for the WS, or even just his stubborn refusal to try leg day even once.

Day 6: Call him Snake -- Prince Zuko Billy might not be the most dignified character on the show, but he’s certainly the most honorable and is deadly with a candy cane.

Day 7: Like Family -- I just want to see some Woodscouts bonding, with each other or a character of your choice.

[sending-the-message]

I've been wandering through Aokigahara Forest, where bodies hang all year long by Ra1n_Walker

Hi guys. This is going to be long, because I'll just be as thorough as possible. I don't think leaving out details will contribute to the story, so bear with me. Or don't… I was wondering how many of you are aware of the existence of this forest. The Sea of Trees, as they like to call it, or, on a less brighter note; Suicide Forest.

I have a mildly unhealthy obsession for the obscure and unsolved mysteries, which often leads me to venture to lost and forgotten places. Abandoned asylums, hotels, evil looking buildings. I love to scour the internet for strange occurences and events that seem to involve anything going from ghosts to murderers or aliens. People will believe anything to feel excitement.

I wouldn't call myself a believer. In fact, I think it's funny how people can get all serious and worked up about some weird theory that sounds creepy, but has not the slightest proof or link to a plausible explanation. What I do believe in is that people have a tendency to do some really fucked up things. Guess everyone knows to what extent, but the real atrocities are preferably kept a bit further in our daily lives and rather not thought of.

It litterally turns me on. I can get goosebumps hearing about gruesome scenes, imagining someone's pain or finding truly disturbing things. The 'this-song-makes-me-wanna-cry' type of goosebumps. I can't ever get enough. So I heard of this forest and read about it on the web. Reddit also has some accounts on this and there's even a few movies based on its reputation and stories (which I haven't seen yet as I don't want to ruin the experience) so it really isn't hard getting a bit educated about it. I had to fricking go there.

So that was that, and I was off to Japan only about a month later. I always thought Mount Fuji might be worth seeing and I definitely had a strong passion for the Japanese culture. And their anime and manga, obviously. Being on a plane towards my long awaited destination, I had enough time to go through the available information and read up on the forest. I probably read it all already, being the special person that I am, but it amused me. 

It definitely was a cool mystery anyway. The 'facts' were often disturbing and the assumptions made around the place were even more so. There's a few of those that really stuck with me that I think are thought provoking or at the very least interesting. I read about a lot of aspects. Locals would believe they could pin point the exact type of visitor to the woods.

There were the ones trying to snap pictures of Mount Fuji and its impressive base and flora around it. Some would go in there and hope to find something dark or scary. Thrillseekers if you will. And then there's the obvious type, the type that make the forest famous; the suicidals that don't plan on coming back out. What the fuck

The thing that struck me when I first heard about it is that it would have to be littered with corpses, seeing as over 75 people were found every year. Most of them hanged. They even reached over a hundred victims a few years back and decided to stop reveiling numbers to avoid making it more popular, thus resulting in more suicides. So yeah, there's a fricking cleanup crew. Every year locals search the forest for bodies or what's left of them.

According to what I'd read, they would drag decomposed bodies or parts of them, skeletons and personal belongings scattered around the sea of trees back to some kind of room where they'd store them. There's accounts of people staying in a room with the bodies, because according to local folklore, it would mean bad luck to leave those  alone.

I landed after a long flight and needed a good night's rest. I always admired people who were able to sleep on a plane, I was too nervous to achieve that. I'd never been too keen on flying and this time was no different. It felt good to get out of that bird. I called a cab and made my way to my hotel, about an hour drive from Shizuoka airport. I would've loved to chat with the driver and learn more than I already knew, but guess what. The dude didn't speak one word of English. 

"Yessir."

Good talk...

I dozed off in the car, face against the window and coat over my head to block out the light of the evening that still shone bright. When I woke up, the cab had stopped and I was in... Shimizu? My Japanese was about as good as the cab driver's English, so I didn't bother even trying to ask. I got out, stepped inside the hotel and was pointed to my room. I stayed there the whole evening to fall asleep quickly. Next day; alarm at 6am, breakfast with some documents and brochures to re-check my way to Aokigahara and what to look out for.

After speaking with the hotel clerk, whose English was good enough to be able to make out key words. It only took me half an hour before being on a train towards Mount Fuji. Shizuoka airport was about 80 miles from Aokigahara  and I was about half way going from where I was right then. An hour drive before getting there and I had to walk quite a bit before arriving at the area I was trying to get to, after even taking an extra bus.

And that's when I finally got to the place I had been looking forward to for the last weeks. I had Mount Fuji looking over me from the distance, like a titan contemplating the world beneath, and the forest of Aokigahara in front of me. The Sea of Trees. Suicide Forest... I was standing at the beginning of a path that lead into the woods. The path seemed to be an easy one to follow, it was clearly maintained regularly and countless footsteps were printed in the slightly muddy trail. Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, I took off hoping for adventure.

The path continued for much further than I had imagined and started twisting and turning the more I got into the forest. I knew it stretched about 13 miles and I wasn't helpless at all when it comes to navigating. I know how to use a compass and I have a good sense of awareness, so I never worried once. I just thought it was a bit weird that people tried to maintain this, as if they were trying to shake the woods' reputation and attract more tourists and less suicidals.

I have to say, after an hour or so, my surroundings felt a bit darker, a bit scarier if you will. One of the reasons for this is that there were multiple ways to go from the main trail. Dozens of paths leading deeper through the trees that were everywhere. I mean it's a forest, but goddamn this forest was dense. A lot of those paths were marked with a sign or a carving in a tree. Messages saying things I couldn't read, others in English saying life is precious and I shouldn't give in, a plea to return to the town and talk to someone... They really tried hard to stop you from killing yourself. Those signs were well intended, but I couldn't help thinking this shit was spooky and so out of place.

Honestly, it was creepy, but nothing I couldn't handle and definitely not enough to satisfy my need for excitement and adventure. I noticed more turns and twists in the trail I was following and I looked behind me on a few occasions just to make sure I kept my bearings. Plus, I was slowly getting a bit paranoid. The forest got darker the more I ventured in and I thought I heard footsteps every so often. Don't get me wrong, I love this. But yeah, shit gets scary when you go looking for it.

At one point, I decided I'd take a break and drink some water while checking the compass, just to be sure. And of course, my compass was acting up and desperately looking for north, while I looked at it and sighed. No biggie, I just have to turn around and follow the trail back, should I want to leave. Problem is, I turned around to find myself standing on an intersection. I had three possible directions to go and I doubted a little when wondering which one I came from. I couldn't remember seeing any paths starting from the one I was walking until then and I felt a lot less confident all of a sudden.

Shit

I was used to the feeling of panic rising and that was also part of the thrill I wanted to find every time I went looking for it. So I took some time to take in my surroundings and thought about what to do now. I hadn't seen anything really exciting so far and I was slowly doubting to go back. But the day wasn't over and I was dedicated to my trip. So I looked up to see if I could see the sun's position and nearly screamed like a girl. The foliage was way too dense to see through, only a small amount of light pierced through the canopy. But hanging practically right above me was a little girl, eyes missing and legs bitten off to the knees. Her head was hanging down rested on her chest and I gagged.

I jumped back and fell down, tripping over and hurting my wrist in the process. I cursed at myself while looking at the grim scene before me, but I can't say I wasn't excited. THIS was the thrill I liked and I was proud of myself for getting where I was trying to get, the small border between adrenaline and madness or insanity. But when you're looking at a dead body of a hanged little girl, there's some things you don't expect/want to happen, because you might just get a heart attack like I almost did.

"Hoshi."

Guys. No shit. I sharted then and there and I'm not even ashamed to admit it. It was the voice of a little girl that sounded like she was playing with her dolls or having an imaginary tea-party. Except she was having it in the middle of a dark forest all alone with a dead girl as a view... It came from right behind me and I turned around with eyes wide open and a scream ready to escape my mouth. There was no one there and I started to feel watched and incredibly nervous. I could hear rustling from behind me and I prayed. I wasn't superstitious, but I think I knew what was coming. I turned around and felt myself turn pale.

"We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

The girl was still hanging in the trees when she said it and her empty eye sockets seemed to be shimmering in the dim light. Her mouth didn't move, but her head was straight up and looking forward, completely immobile. It was the most unsettling thing I'd ever experienced and I honestly stood there nailed to the ground, unable to think or move. I didn't understand the first word I heard coming from behind me, but what she was repeating now was so chaotic and abnormal that it scared the living shit out of me.

I stepped back even more and rubbed my eyes, hoping I was dreaming (which I definitely wasn't) and I tried to set my mind straight.

""We are the doo doo doO dOO DOOO you help me sir sir please sir for the I want to down down me or you"

This time it was MUCH louder and coming from much closer and I felt my heart pumping in my head, scared to open my eyes. When I did, I could've cried. The girl was now standing a few feet in front of me, pieces of flesh dragging behind her while her legs, or what was left of them, carried her lifeless body towards me. Saying the same thing over and over again with the rope still tied around her neck, tight.

I stood there watching her, never blinking. She was really frightening with her deep empty eye sockets, her mutilated body and the fact that she was so little. Despite all of that, the sensation of fear and the desire to run became less urgent. I started feeling more sad than scared. A girl that age committing suicide was just above me, it blew my mind and I couldn't shake the feeling this was wrong. Well, of course it was, but isn't it more than just weird to see such a young child here? I looked up and saw the rope going from her neck towards the canopy and realized what was bothering me that much. How the fucking fuck does that rope even get there.

Not kidding, the trees were high. Like, really high. You'd have to use machinery to get all the way up or be a damn good climber and I couldn't for the life of me picture this kid doing that. It was so high up I couldn't even exactly see where it was attached and when I looked back at her, she was holding out her hand as to motion me to grab it. I reluctently took a step forward and held out my hand, watching her getting closer.

Before I continue; what would you do?

Seriously. I'm nearly 30 years old, I'm the biggest horror fan I can think of and I have a tendency to question everything that doesn't have a reasonable explanation. So, what would you do?

I stood there watching her as she stopped in place and looked right back at me with those black, hollow eyes. Despite the obvious fucked-upness of the whole situation, I just couldn't shake the feeling I was having. Unable to explain it, I'd have to go with sheer empathy… This girl had to be, what? Six? Seven years old? I'm not a pro, so ten probably would've done it as well, but you get it. No kid this young should be thinking about suicide, nor should a girl this young be here in a forest so dark and dense you can't hear any birds or other animals. I only heard the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves as I looked at the first person I encountered in these woods; a girl that was so young and looked so innocent that I got sick thinking about the undeniable fact she was here. In these woods that carried its name so clearly and casually, forgotten forever.

"Hoshi."

That word snapped me back to my senses instantly and made me feel like I lost something that I never had. Who the fuck leaves a kid in here, or who the fucking fuck makes a kid feel so bad that it makes her ending up here with a rope around its neck in the Aokigahara forest? Or where the fuck ever. So I don't know what you would do, but tears were almost running down my face when I practically lunged forward and grabbed her hand as firmly as I could.

I guess the world stopped

I was somewhere else, feeling like someone else and thinking like someone else. I was afraid.

If only…

I was scared as I had never been before. The world around me was pitch black and I couldn't hear anything but my frantic screams and the drumming of my blood pumping in my brain, making me feel like I was going to explode. The feeling I had persisted until a loud bang made me jump up and nearly gave me a heart attack.

My blindfold was taken away and the light that attacked my face stung like a thousand wasps. The smack on my jaw made sure I wasn't distracted by the stinging of the air in my nostrils and also made me open my burning blue eyes to watch what was causing me to feel like this.

The guy I was watching looked far too happy to be sane.

I was sitting down in a corner of a room, hands tied behind my back to a chain that was attached to a radiator, the only thing in the room besides me. My wrists were on fire and I saw my little feet twisting in front of me as I cowarded backwards against the wall, trying to escape his filthy hands. The knife in his right hand was all the more threatening when he grabbed my neck with his left and started applying pressure.

Panic, fear, anger, loss, despair. Those are but a fraction of the emotions flooding me at that time and I wouldn't even know how to begin to describe the rest of them. As if the lack of oxygen wasn't enough, the pressure on my neck felt like it was going to make it snap and the fact that my legs were everywhere and arms flailing made sure to make me lose all hope. The world went dark with the last image of a lunatic smiling at me as I drew my last breath.

Then I woke up

I was in the middle of the forest at an intersection and it didn't take me more than a few seconds to realize I was right where I was before I started dreaming. Panicked, I turned to look around me and above me, only to see I was alone in the woods. But the fucking rope was there. Right in front of me, where the girl had been standing, there was a rope on the ground heading deeper into the woods.

Safe to say everything was already fucked up and I didn't even think straight when I bent over to grab it and started following it into the forest.

Stay. The fuck. Out of there.

Guys, I followed it and walked for an hour (approximately) and from the very first minute I was surrounded by a sea. Not of trees, but bodies. Kids hanging from trees, some mutilated, some unharmed as if they were sleeping. Others decomposed to almost nothing but bones, fallen down as their ropes were still ominously hanging from the invisible canopy… it kept going for as long as I was. When I got to the end of the rope and thought I'd shed every tear and consumed all the fear that was hidden inside me, I was standing in the middle of a clearing and looking at a guy.

An asian guy standing by some kind of enormous plastic bag and hoisting something up in the trees with a rope. I started shivering and I felt like all power was taken away from me when I saw an arm sticking out if the bag. The boy he was hanging couldn't have been older than five and the fact I was watching this as if I'd be watching a street musician suddenly put me in a mood I hadn't yet been in.

Tears running down my face and legs unable to take a step in whatever direction, I felt a hand grabbing a hold of mine. The little girl, the one I could watch now without being scared, the one that showed me and asked for help was standing next to me. Although they were blue, she didn't have eyes, but her smile was worth a thousand words.

What happened next took five minutes at the most.

I anonymously notified the police when I found my way back out of the forest almost a full day later and I went back home immediately. I know that nobody there likes to talk about the reputation of the forest and I know that other things have been covered up, so I have no way of knowing what happened or if anything got done.

Don't fucking touch children, because I might be the last thing you see. I looked up what she said -hoshi- and I guess she meant hoshii… I'm not Japanese so I might be wrong, but I believe she wanted/needed someone to help her

[mandakatt]

Which holiday is each kitty's favorite?

A/N: Right then, I apologize for this taking absolutely figgen forever Anon-san. I’ve had so many issues lately with, well what I want to call writer’s block, but I have a feeling it’s not that - my muse seems to have no interest in any of my current projects. But I’m going to strap her down and get this done for you. ♥ Also, my muse and I based this off of Holidays that are celebrated in the US - as that’s what’s the easiest for us cause.. Dat’s where I’m from. =p

Muse: HEY! LEMME GO!Me: C’mon now. You’ve put this off long enough, you have to do this.Muse: THE HELL I DO!Me: Get it done, or I take away iced coffee for 2 weeks.Muse: *whines* We haven’t had any in a week…!Me: I’ll make it longer. Muse: *whinnnne* FINE! INSPIRATION EVERYWHERE!Me: *goes wide eyed* Oh, Holy shi–

Tagging: @itshaejinju @major-artery @momokitty27 @sweetchocobae @blossattic @princess-of-lucis @ravenvelith @suzunesays @ultimate-flavor-experience 

[Also - if you want me to tag you, or you no longer want to be tagged, please let me know! ♥ ]

So here you are Anon-San, Which Holiday is the Kitter’s favorite:

Kitty!Noctis - He seems indifferent to most holidays, except for Halloween. You’re not sure if it’s the decorations you put out, the spooky music, or the fact that he gets to see all sorts of strange and unique critters [kids in costumes] that come to your door. He’s also super proud to wear his little vampire cape you got him.

Kitty!Prompto - He gets hyper the moment the weather starts getting cooler. In Lestallum however, snow doesn’t fall, but it’s like the moment it gets close to November, he gets excited. Even more so when you drag out the Christmas Tree. You’ll find him meowing and burbling at you with each thing you put on the tree, or decorate your home with, curious, and you have learned to show him each piece before you put it somewhere, less he climbs up and tries to investigate [by knocking it down onto the floor.]

Kitty!Ignis - The moment you bring out the turkey to thaw for Thanksgiving, he moves to the edge of your kitchen to watch. And if you happen to move out of sight when you’re preparing things, he’ll jump up onto the kitchen counters, to see just what exactly you’re doing. He’ll sniff and softly burble now and then as you talk with him while you peel potatoes, and make stuffing.  Though you swear he judges you when you make gravy saying to yourself softly “Please no lumps…”

Blind Kitty!Ignis - Is still the same, and Thanksgiving seems to be his favorite thing, especially when you start cooking for your family. Though he’ll hide himself under the dining room table and will listen to you, only coming out from time to time if you curse about something.

Kitty! Gladio - He gets excited the long weekend for Memorial Day shows up. You often wonder how he knows for sure when it’s coming till you realize that he’s hanging out in the camping gear you’ve got set up in the living room to throw out into your car the next day. He’s all too eager to have you snap on his harness so he can get out into the car to go with you.

Kitty!Cor - He doesn’t seem to really have a favorite holiday. But, there’s those times at Christmas time where you’re relaxing, just sitting there sipping cocoa and watching your tree twinkle in the dark that you will find he gets the most cuddly. He’ll demand, by meowing up at you, for you to make room on your lap, so he can hop up, and curl up and lay down and cuddle with you.

Kitty!Iris - She adores Easter - Between her and Talcott you’re not sure who likes it more, or if it’s more just because you hide things around the house, and she has an absolute blast trying to find everything…even though they’re the toys and boxed candies that are for your god kids, and not her.

Kitty!Aranea - Honestly, she could really give two shakes of her tail what day of the week it is, let alone what holiday. Though, she seems to come a bit more out of her shell at Thanksgiving, and you’re not quite sure if it’s because, like Ignis, she takes an interest in what you’re doing in the kitchen, or if it’s cause you give her scraps here and there. [Shhh! Don’t tell the others!]

Kitty!Cindy - Independence day seems to be the one that she’s most content with. You’ll find her on top of your shed, sitting there, tail swaying as the sun starts to set. And when the fireworks start to go off, she’ll watch them in what appears to be awe, her ears turning slightly as her soft purring fills the air.

Kitty!Luna - She, like noctis, adores Halloween. You have a specific collar for her to wear that has a shiny little crown that flutters over her head, and a pair of fairy like wings on her back. The critters that come to the door [again, kids. X3] will coo at the pretty fairy princess, getting her extra pets for the evening, and she waits at the door expectantly for more to show up and lavish her with attention.

Kitty!Ravus - He’s much like Aranea, in the fact that he seems indifferent, and uninterested in almost every holiday…except for Thanksgiving. And once again, you make it well known to him, that he’s the only one getting scraps. [If he knew Aranea and Ignis were, well, you don’t think he’d like Thanksgiving as much.]

Kitty!Cid - You find your old codger sitting on the back deck, on independence day, snuggled in between Regis and Clarus as the fireworks go off. You thought the noise might bother him, but he seems more interested in the bright flashing lights that are exploding in the air than anything else going on about him for a change.

Kitty!Regis - He will burble and meow and follow you up from the basement as you drag up the Christmas tree. He’s all too content to circle about your legs as you try to set it up the tree, you know being the helpful kitter that he is, before you finally settle down on the floor once done, and he can take up your lap, purring and kneading contentedly as he seems to observe the tree.

Kitty!Clarus - You find that your king’s shadow is much like his king’s son. He adores Halloween. You’ll watch him sit off to the side of the door, ears turning as each kid comes up to ring the doorbell, begging for treats. He gives off contented rumbly purrs when the kids notice him and pet the ‘big panther’ at your door.

Kitten!Talcott - Easter. Easter is his thing because of all the toys you hide about your home for the holiday for your god kids. He always manages to bring out one of the stuffed animals you had for them, in his jaws, looking rather proud before he flops down on top of it near you, purring and kneading away against it.

Kitty!Gentiana - You find that she seems to grow a bit more clingy around you when the Christmas months get closer. She’ll be your constant companion, instantly appearing on your lap, or on the back of your chair, or next to you, just to contentedly keep you company, and watch the twinkling lights on the tree.

Kitty!Ardyn - You swear he likes Halloween just because he can scare you, and everyone else that happens to come to the door. Almost every time you hand out a treat, he’ll come barreling around the corner, hissing and spitting and arching his back, causing some to scream, which makes him happy. Though when someone actually ‘roars’ back at him, he skitters like mad back around the corner.

Kitty!Nyx - He’s all about any holiday where your family and friends gather around. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, Birthdays… he’s all for it. The more people that surround you and him, it seems the more content he becomes. Rubbing up against everyone’s legs as they converse, or snuggling up on everybody’s lap. Yes. He takes turns sleeping on EVERYONE’S lap.

Kitty!Libertus -  He gets goofy around your Birthday. It’s technically a holiday as you take the day off from work just to spend time at home. And, it could also be because you share your ‘specially made lunch’ with him. Well, the bits of meat off the skewer anyway, that you consider a rare treat.

Kitty!Crowe - She seems indifferent most of the time, but seems to enjoy New Years. Something about everyone gathering at your house for a celebration seems to make her content. She’ll jump down as you all countdown to midnight, cheering in the new year, and she’ll wander the group, rubbing against everyone’s legs gently, earning her a few pieces of shrimp off the shrimp tray.

Kitty!Pelna - He’s big on the family gathering holidays, much like Nyx - So New years, Christmas, and Thanksgiving. Though instead of getting up on everyone’s lap, he’s more of a shadow. He’s constantly seen but he’s not particular to anyone thing. However, he will make himself quite known with a loud meow, and purrs when one of your relatives calls to him, and gives him a bit of a human treat.

Kitty!Titus - He is indifferent, but when there’s people over, he knows that means there’ll be food. He’ll deliberately wiggle his stubby tail, and meow cutely, rubbing on your friends, and relatives legs as he purrs and kneads hard enough he brings his paws up as he stands. They’ll give in, and give him all the treats that he begs for - He does hate the diet you put him on the following day however.

Kitty!Dino - This doofy kitter absolutely adores Christmas, because everything and ANYTHING is shiny. The decorations, the tree, the lights. All of it. He wanders about your living room, looking wide eyed at everything when you first put it out, only to burble and meow at you shortly after. By the next morning, HALF of the decorations from on the tree, and the tinsel are under the couch in his hoard. He has a bit of a fit everytime you pull the decorations out, so you actually went and got some tinsel of his own to put into his hoard, and he is now content to leave the stuff on the tree alone. But you can’t help but smile as you find him and Prompto sleeping under your tree almost every morning.

[ellawritesficssometimes]

My Save Year -USUK (ch. 3)

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12554533/1/My-Save-Year

Two days later…

Monday:

I was sitting at the front desk in the library, pawing through a files folder as I balanced a corded phone between my ear and shoulder.

"Yes, everything is fine," I sighed, annoyed at having to repeat myself. "I'm starting my third week here already. You know me, I've already developed a daily routine. I feel comfortable now. Hell, I'm so busy, I don't even feel stress anymore. I can't afford to."

Coping by using sarcastic puns? Check.

Midterms were around the corner, so most of my time was spent preparing for them well in advance. Grades were how I proved my self-worth, not to others, but to myself. I had nothing else going for me but my smarts.

"That's good to hear," Alistair grunted on the other end of the phone. "Even so, I just wanted to check in with ye again. Have ye made any new friends? Are ye eating properly? And don't ye dare lie to me, Artie. Ye ken full well that I'll come down there to romp yer skinny little arse if ye are."

I smirked and closed the files drawer shut. It emitted a satisfactory metallic thud.

I spun in my swivel chair and pushed off towards the desk part of the station so that I could smugly drum my fingers against the wooden surface.

"Actually, I have. Five total. Well," I corrected myself. "Three of them are more like acquaintances that I just so happen to share classes with. As for food? I've been trying, really I have. My roommate is even more ruthless than you are, like a hawk. He's resorted to force-feeding me because of my apparent lack in key nutrients."

Alistair laughed gruffly. "And here ye were at the beginning of the year, bitchin' and whining about having ta share a room with someone. It looks like it did ye a lotta good. I'm glad…and surprised. Since when has my wee little brother been so popular? I'm impressed. Nae, I'm proud and impressed."

I faltered. "The people here are…surprisingly nice. It's not like back home, where people's brains are even smaller than the limited geography. I've also noticed that, ah, there's a lot of diversity amongst the writers here, and I'm not just saying this because it's an international academy," I stumbled awkwardly.

Thankfully, Alistair knew how to address the subject without either skirting around it or directly addressing it. I flustered easily; he knew my boundaries of what I was okay with discussing.

"Artists are like tha'. Yer all either depressed, gay, lonely, bitter, or all four. Oops, looks like I just came up with half of yer biography," Alistair teased before changing the subject. "So, have you written anythin' lately? You haven't sent me somethin' for quite a while now."

Alistair was the supportive mother figure in my life. He overcompensated in our true mother's footsteps by taking interest in my hobbies. I only ever trusted Alistair to read my writing.

"Ha ha, very funny," I replied dryly. "Hmmm. I'll send you something soon. I have many assignments due in the coming weeks. I could always use another set of eyes to catch any mistakes."

"Yep."

"How are things in Scotland?" I asked.

"Good, could be better. My flat isna the best, but I'm making do. Mum called yesterday by the way…"

"Oh?" My stomach sank.

"She asked me to tell ye somethin'."

I didn't say anything, which prompted Alistair to tell me anyway.

"She asked me if yer coming back for Christmas… ye don't have to, though!" he blurted out. "I'd understand if ye didn't want to. Artie, I already told em' that you'd be coming home to my place for the holidays. That's the plan. It's up to ye if ye to change or stick with it."

I grit my teeth, swallowing sourly. "That's rich," I snorted bitterly. "You can tell her to fuck right off, along with the rest of them. They just don't want to look bad when I'm not there in front of the other relatives. I'm not going, not again. I don't want to go back, and no amount of guilt-tripping will ever make me. What nerve they have, honestly."

There went my relatively good mood.

My family may not have been physically abuse, but the belittling and constantly critical atmosphere was toxic for me. There were all just so passive-aggressive, it would drive anyone in my position insane. My other brothers would always hip-check me if I was in the way and would also make snide comments when I wasn't around. Mum was miserable, and Dad was just an angry bigot not even worthy of a description.

They didn't want me there, and I was sick of them pretending that they had accepted me for who I was. I haven't forgiven them, especially for the stairs incident with Patrick…

I'll repeat myself again: I wasn't going back. They had already done enough damage.

"I thought ye would say that," Alistair sadly stated. "Don't get me wrong, ye have every right to feel that way. I wasn't keen on going either if I'm to be perfectly honest. I'll make sure to relay the message for ye. No need to cause any more fights."

"Good, because I was definitely looking forward to us attempting to cook, only to give in after almost burning down the building and ordering take-out as a consolation meal," I mused, intending to lighten the mood. It worked.

After that, the conversation shifted to more trivial topics. I elaborated on school, my job, the many ghosts, as well as how strange the entire campus made me feel. I didn't mention the library's rooftop; I hadn't thought of it as very important.

My break was over quicker than expected, and I had to hang-up. It was odd how lenient and patient Alistair was being with me, as opposed to his usual stubborn, worry-wart self. I soon understood why he was acting as such when he said his goodbyes.

"I haven't heard ye be this happy in a while, Artie. I don't ken what's happening there, but I sure do hope that it keeps up. Take care, lad. And don't forget to call me, more than just one day a week if ye can. I'm always available when it comes to yer well-being, just make sure to keep the time in mind if ye do happen to catch me by surprise. Anyways, I have stuff to do, so I should probably let ye go. Best of luck on your midterms. Oh, and I love ye, very much, ye snobby brat."

I smiled. "I love you too, you hard-headed oaf," I retorted. "I'll speak to you again soon."

"Wha-?! Did you just say it back? Who are ye and what did you do with my bro–!"

Shocked, I hung up the phone.

"What in the bloody fuck was that?" I asked myself, feeling my face heat. The last time I had said something like that to him, I was no older than eight. My God, this school was turning me into such a sap.

No matter, I still had work to do. We had just gotten a whole new edition of textbooks to register into stock from the history section. Straightening both my blouse and posture, I set out to do just that.

It was four PM when Matthew came back from his last class of the day. My classes on Monday ended at noon, so I covered the middle shift. Technically, I was only hired to work on weekends, but I was slightly behind on my work as an assistant, so the administrators let me do an extra shift here and there to make up for it. The campus was privately run, so funding and payroll was never an issue.

Besides, the amount of books and files I had to keep track of was insane, near impossible even. I was also in the library most days, save for this weekend as a minor exception. I think you know why, but we'll get into that later.

I wasn't surprised to see Matthew carrying a platter of sandwiches in his hands. "Feeding time again?" I joked. I still found this whole situation ridiculous. It just didn't make any sense to me. A spirit eating food? I had never heard of something so preposterous.

"Oui, ah, yes," Matthew stuttered. "Egg salad is never a favourite in the staff room. I figured I wouldn't let them go to waste."

Matthew opened the plastic wrap covering the platter, offering me a sandwich. "They're pretty awful, but knowing you, you've only had breakfast today, huh?"

The Canadian knew me well. I didn't have a very large appetite, anxious or not. I either ate a lot or didn't eat at all, there was no in between. Although, the reminders I had set on my phone have helped. Throughout the day, I had many snacks, but none of them were meals – the downside of being dirt poor.

I accepted the sandwich, smiling politely as I took a small bite from it. "I don't see anything wrong with it," I shrugged.

"It's plain and processed," Matthew deadpanned. "I swear, you have such a strange taste in food. You'll eat anything, just like the ghost. Speaking of which, have you had a chance to look at the camera footage?" he asked, noting my disheartened expression. "Spooky, right?"

"Something's definitely funny about it," I replied. "Perhaps it's just the lighting, an optical illusion that makes it look like the food is disappearing. The cameras are old too. I still stand by my theory that a student is taking advantage of the free food."

Sue me, I was lying through my teeth. I didn't want many people to know about my abilities. Francis knew, and that was more than enough. Thing is, when I looked at previous camera footage, the food didn't just disappear. A dark and shaded pixelated spirit was in fact taking the food. It's just a pity I wasn't there to actually witness this, since the camera didn't possess the same sight as I did.

"Arthur," Matthew rolled his eyes. This was something we often bickered about now. "My family's been doing this for decades. There's a spirit here, many of them, but this one has the most personality. Keep denying the obvious if you want, but this library is very clearly haunted. Now, if you excuse me, I have a real-life ghost to feed. If I take too long, sometimes it gets impatient and knocks over books. One time it knocked over an entire shelf."

"Mhmm, sure," I hummed dismissively, a playful light in my eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

"I will," Matthew huffed.

"Good."

"Bien."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Hitting your head on Friday must have made you even stubborner. As if it wasn't already hard enough to get through to you," Matthew shook his head in disbelief.

The bruise at the back of my head throbbed a little at the reminder. I told Matthew that I had taken a bad fall on Friday, not wanting him to worry about me too much. Francis already did enough of that. I couldn't walk two feet without the Frenchman offering to hold my arm in support.

I had a minor concussion, that's it. Waking me up every hour of the night was more than unnecessary. Stupid patronizing frog. Don't even get me started on refusing to report the incident to campus security…

"Perhaps it did. I wouldn't know," I shrugged, prompting Matthew to leave with a thoroughly 'done' expression on his face.

When Matthew was out of sight, I rolled my chair over to the computer and opened the camera feed. I clicked on the specific one that surveyed the fiction section on the fifth floor. The food was always placed on the study tables there.

I spied on the Canadian, watching him place the sandwich platter in its usual spot. I shamelessly flipped through cameras, making sure that he was far out of hearing distance before I put my plan into motion.

I was going to stake out the spirit. I had done enough readings over the weekend to spare myself some extra time. I also may or may not have refused to leave my dorm room because of Friday's incident. All right, I did.

I had avoided visiting the rooftop because I didn't want to see Alfred. Now that he knew who I was, I couldn't bear to face him again. I didn't want his pity, nor did I want myself to believe that we could become chatting partners again.

He'd seen me in a very sorry, very pitiful state. I just knew that he would never look at me the same if we saw each other again. The problem was, I needed to investigate that rooftop, but he was always there. This mess just made everything more complicated than it needed to be. It was also bizarre how Alfred had just left without another word, but then again, I wasn't going to complain.

Moving on.

Hopefully, this stake out would answer most of my questions. I had very little patience monitoring the cameras; this plan was my only way of physically seeing the spirit, rather than just a fuzzy, pixelated blob on a screen.

Forget waiting, I wanted to know what it was. The uneasy feeling I got whenever I came here was beginning to drive me mad, like a pestering fly that wouldn't stop buzzing in your ear.

And so, that's how I found myself squatted behind a bookcase, phone digging into my hips due to the tight jeans I was wearing. I eyed the food platter, devotedly intending to stay for hours on end if I had to.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," I muttered to myself. "I won't hurt you, I promise. If anything, I just want to help. And here I thought I was stubborn…"

One hour later.

"Oh for fuck's sakes, I'm not going to bite."

Two hours later.

I stretched my back and neck, shifting my position into something more comfortable. I was leaning against the bookshelf now, occasionally looking over my shoulder, only to come up disappointed with the view of the still empty study area.

I was so used to the quiet that when my phone buzzed, I gave a sharp yelp in response.

Turns out, it was just Francis wanting to know if I had started plotting out my Creating Writing assignment. Our Russian professor, an alumnus at the school, was back to teaching here again. Apparently, we were immensely lucky to have him, since he didn't like staying at the campus for more than a year.

Lucky my arse. We had a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. The professor was out of his bloody mind! It was only a matter of time before I burnt out – a person only had so much creativity and sanity in them, after all.

I couldn't be bothered to answer Francis. I would do so later if I remembered to, which wasn't very likely if I'm to be perfectly honest. It got to the point where I had to turn off my phone to prevent him from blowing up my inbox. God, was he ever insufferable.

The time I spent waiting had almost passed the three-hour mark when a distinct creak and subsequent thud echoed across the area. Immediately, I turned around, eyes locked on the nearest study table.

"Easy does it," I mouthed. "I just want to see who or what you are…"

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST?!" I screamed, jolting upwards only to bang my head on the bookshelf.

My vision blacked out briefly as I reached out to cup the back of my now much sorer head. My vision swam, blurry, before focusing on a startled pair of blue eyes and shiny spectacles, glowing from the fluorescent lights above.

"A-Artie?" Alfred crouched down. "I'm sorry if I startled ya. It's just, I haven't heard from you since, well, you know… I thought I would find you myself. You did mention that you worked and studied here."

"I did, did I?" I groaned, glaring at him through tears. "Couldn't you have found me like a normal person, and oh, I don't know, not sneak up on me?"

Alfred didn't say anything. He looked like he wanted to reach out to see if I was okay, but given my short temper, he knew better not to.

"Stop looking at me like that, I'll be fine. And it's Arthur!" I blurted out. "How many times do I have to tell you that?… Fuck it, I don't even care. I-I should probably get going now." I stood up abruptly, wanting to get out of here as fast as possible.

"Arthur, wait!" Alfred called out when I turned my back on him.

Hesitantly, I turned around, defensive scowl already in place. My eyes bugged out as I took in his hulking height. He was several inches taller than me, albeit lanky. Of course, he was still wearing the same brown bomber jacket and folded jeans, blond hair stuck up in a messy muss. In his right hand, he gripped onto his notebook, and on his back, he was one-strapping a brown leather rucksack.

"What?" I wavered, shy to establish direct eye contact for too long.

"I'm, ah, sorry that I left you hanging like that. I panicked and didn't know what to do. It's why I went running off to find someone else to help out…"

"You found my roommate. I hate my roommate," I sarcastically spat.

Alfred nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh. I didn't know. He seemed nice enough, I guess," I trailed off.

"Is that all? I have to be somewhere."

"Don't lie to me, Arthur. I haven't known you all that long, and yet I can still tell when you're lying. You wear your emotions on your face. You don't just look troubled now. You look embarrassed and I'm here to tell you that you shouldn't. Is that why you haven't come on the roof these past few days? Because you thought I wouldn't accept you for who you are?"

"…Can you blame me?" I whispered, throat constricting. "You saw what they did, what they said. It's repulsive. I'm repulsive…"

"BULLSHIT!" Alfred exploded. When I flinched, he lowered his voice. "That's total bullshit, you hear me?! Don't say such things like that. It only gives those assholes free reign to do whatever the hell they want! You're better than that!"

I inched away from Alfred, hurt crossing over my expression. "Look, if you came here to yell at me, then you may as well just leave. I don't need this right now."

"Arthur," Alfred repeated. "Look man, I'm trying," he paused, taking a deep breath. "I want to be your friend, I really do. It's just hard standing here watching you beat yourself up like this. It's not right.

"Thing is, my anxiety does this weird thing where when I see someone in a similar position to me, I become strong and confident all of a sudden. My sister calls it this 'hero' persona. I don't really care… I'm not trying to be your hero, but I can't just stand around either. I came to talk to you."

I sighed. So that's why he was here. He was pushing aside his shyness to see if I was okay. Sweet, but unnecessary. A waste of his time if you ask me. "You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You weren't fine when I found you that night," Alfred interrupted. "Did you call campus security on those bozos? Maybe there was a camera that caught their faces. They deserve to expelled for what they did, a rotten bunch if I've ever seen one," he seethed.

"I didn't call anyone. I just want it to be done and over with. What happened, happened," I remarked curtly.

Alfred's jaw dropped. "You're not going to try and find them?"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

"But you can't! It's not right!"

"Perhaps, but it's what I want."

Alfred's shoulders slumped. "I can't believe it. I mean, if it's what you really want, fine. It's not what I would do, and it makes me really angry that those criminals are going to get away with something like this... still, I can't force you to do something you don't wanna do."

I looked at the ground, unsure of myself. "Was that all you came here for?"

"No, you invited me to join you in the library sometime, remember? I'm taking you up on that offer. Call me old-fashioned, but I don't have a phone, so this was my only way of finding you. I also, um, want to tell you something," Alfred admitted.

I shrugged. I was too tired and flustered to argue. A seat sounded nice. "All right, I don't see why not."

We sat at a study table, across from one another. Alfred had to pull out his chair as his legs were too long to fit underneath. He kept fidgeting, with both his hands and his feet. The way he clicked his ankle was annoying, but I didn't have the heart to tell him to stop. He was pushing himself out of his comfort zone, for me. He was reaching out – who was I to discourage him from doing so with some useless, petty comment?

After some time, Alfred looked up, smiling out of nervousness. "What you said earlier really bothered me, ya know that? You shouldn't have to feel ashamed of yourself. Do you think I'm repulsive?"

"Of course I don't think you're repulsive!" I snapped. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Alfred gave me a blank stare. "I could say the same thing to you. Don't you get it? No one should ever say such horrible things about themselves because once you say it, you really believe it, and it's not true, okay?!" he breathed deeply, calming himself.

"Let me rephrase myself, dude," Alfred continued. "Would you call me repulsive if you knew that I liked guys too?"

"Y-you do?" I asked, lips trembling. My ears buzzed, unable to process this information.

"Yes, I do. Gals as well. Now answer my question."

"I don't have to rephrase anything," I answered. "I've never thought of you as repulsive. I judge people by character. You haven't given me a reason to think that, so no, I don't find you repulsive."

"Why can't you apply that same logic to yourself then? If you call yourself repulsive for being gay, or at least liking boys, then I want you to look me in the eye and call me repulsive too. Go on, do it."

"I…can't."

"Why not? Do it! If it's so easy to say it to yourself, then say it to me!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone to ever have to experience what I have!" I croaked.

"Then why beat yourself up, Arthur? Don't become another bully, to yourself nonetheless. I'm not going to lie and tell you that this world and that you yourself are perfect. But that doesn't give you a reason to hate everything either! You're not repulsive, it's how you think that's repulsive! Don't become like those bigots! It'll only make them win!"

I raked a shaky hand through my hair, fisting it. "I-I…don't think you're repulsive."

"I know, but you need to know that you're not either," Alfred said softly, cerulean eyes possessing an indescribable wisdom to them.

"Damn it," I sniffed, wiping at my eyes before tears could spill. "I know I'm not repulsive, but I can't help but believe it sometimes."

"Love and being yourself is never repulsive, as long as it doesn't harm others. My Ma and Pops didn't understand that, but my, ah, sis does. I grew up in the South. My family, they're really religious. For so long, I had to hide who I was. I had crushes on both boys and girls, but could only date girls. At least, not in public. What I'm trying to say is that it's not worth hating what you can't change. There'll always be support, and there'll sometimes be backlash. It doesn't mean you have to accept it or that it's right. Society sucks, but it doesn't mean you have to believe that you suck too. Gosh, that sounded really dirty," he finished, smiling nervously.

"That must have been tough. I can't even bear to imagine it," I whispered.

"Yeah, well, I didn't live there all the time. My twin, Amelia – I think I told you about her – anyways, Amy and I went to boarding school in New York. We grew up in a pretty progressive area. It was there that I found out more about myself. I met a guy…"

Alfred's eyes widened in pain. I didn't know whether to stop him or let him continue.

I resorted to the latter in fear of scaring Alfred away.

"We really, really liked each other. It's just hard when you're forced to be afraid of loving someone. It really got to me. When I close my eyes I can still imagine how pretty his eyes were, a rare, indescribable violet. He was always so worried about what other people thought... he stood me up because of the rumours going around about us. Afterwards, all I could do was blame and hate myself.

"It's not worth it, Arthur. It really isn't. I learned that the hard way. Either way, I still had that experience, horrible as it was. But you know what? At least I got to do what I wanted to without having what others thought about us hold me back."

"I'm so sorry," I said hesitantly.

"Don't be. The point I'm trying to get across is that it's pointless to regret things, especially something unchangeable like your sexuality. Heck, if I don't know how hard it can get at times. I've only ever wanted things to get better. Moving here, it was a fresh start, even if I had to leave my only support system behind. But now I have you, huh? So how about you start seeing yourself like I do: a normal guy who's too hard on himself."

I nodded. "This was…too sweet for words, Alfred. You didn't have to tell me all that, but I appreciate it. You're right, about everything. And yes, you have me now. I consider you as my friend."

"No, no I did. I didn't just want to tell you this, I had to," Alfred said, taking off his glasses. I let out a sharp intake of breath when I saw that he was crying. "Back then, I grew tired of hating myself, for thinking that I would never be happy. Seeing you feel the same way now, it just breaks my heart. No one deserves this. You can't help it, all right? Things may never turn out in your favor, but don't you ever give up. You will find that someone who will accept you for you, it just may take some time. But once you do find that someone, the rest of the world don't matter after that."

"Crap," he whimpered. "I was the one supposed to be cheering you up. Some friend I am. I wanted to make you feel better."

"Hey," I chided, reaching into my pocket to pull out a wad of tissues. "You sound like you've had it much worse than I have. And don't be silly, you did make me feel better. It's reassuring that we have so much in common, truly it is. Please, don't cry. We both can't be messes, now can we?"

I reached over to hand Alfred a tissue, backing away slightly as he looked uncomfortable with getting so close. He accepted the tissue gratefully, blowing the tip of his nose, which was now quite red.

"I can't promise you that I won't think like this, but what I can guarantee is that I'll try not to. Like I've told you before, it'll take time to re-wire years of negativity. Now come on, smile for me," I felt my heart skip a beat. Where was this coming from?

"You cheered me up, now it's my turn. Where's that dopey, grinning smile, you yank? The smile that can brighten just about anything? How about this, I'll go get us some hot chocolate from the staff room, and when I come back, we can do our work together? You know I won't talk, so you don't have to worry about me messing up your writing mojo."

Alfred looked up at me, incredulous before a wisp of a grin began to creep onto his face. "That sounds awesome! I would love that. Thanks man, you're the best!"

"I should be thanking you," I corrected. It was almost adorable how excited he was. Who knows how long it's been since he's been able to share a moment like this. To me it was just a warm drink, but to Alfred, it was a chance to enjoy himself with someone who accepted his quirks, someone he felt he could be himself with.

We were both overcompensating, trying to make the other feel better…

We both knew what it felt like to be unhappy with ourselves.

Just as I was about to leave, Alfred surprised me once again in a brief, but still ever meaningful display of braveness. It was a simple gesture, but to him, it meant so much more than that.

"Arthur, I never got to introduce myself properly. I-I think I would like to do that now," he flushed, cheeks pink.

"What?"

Alfred held out his hand. "Don't make this awkward, dude. I want to shake hands with you."

"Oh…" My stomach flopped. "Yes, yes, of course. Are you… are you sure you want to though?"

"Yeah man. I trust you completely."

"Very well. Nice to meet you, Alfred Jones," I reached out for Alfred's hand, slowly, waiting for him to grab my hand first.

In reciprocation, Alfred reached over the table, shaking slightly. With a determined huff, he clasped his tanned hand around mine, swallowing it. His hands were that of a bear's, or, at least pretty close to it.

"The pleasure's all mine, Kirkland," Alfred grinned, revealing a heart-warming smile that showed off all his teeth. I had to look away in fear of getting both blinded and embarrassed. He had a way of looking at someone that just made them feel so special. What did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful expression from him?

Alfred gave my hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, breathing out with a shudder. "Wasn't so bad."

I gave him a blank stare.

"I'm talking about my shyness!"

"I know," I mused. "It's just fun to get you worked up."

"Hey!"

I stood up and turned my back on him, grinning the entire trip down to the staff room on the first floor.

When I came back, Alfred and I sipped our warm beverages in a comfortable silence. He wrote down ideas in his notebook, tongue wagging out as he did, and I picked out a random book to read.

Occasionally, he would look up at me and grin like a total goofball. Still, it was hard not to smile back. When he was in a good mood, it was contagious. He radiated, a glow of comfortability surrounding him, protecting him.

I too would find myself staring at him, only to look away when we established eye contact. It was thrilling, watching the way how he pouted his lips in thought, long lashes feathering his strong cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

I was beginning to fall in love with Alfred Jones. Too bad I absolutely couldn't let that happen.

…

The next day

…

I was attending a Creative Writing lecture, or, what remained of it. Prof. Braginski was going through the syllabus again to explain a specific assignment due at the end of the month. However, he couldn't get through one sentence without being interrupted by loud bangs from either the auditorium's ceiling or the walls.

Prof. Braginski cleared his throat, trying not to look frazzled as he adjusted the white scarf wrapped around his neck. The man was in his mid- fifties, a hulking giant with pale blond hair, indigo-almost-purple eyes, and a strong nose.

"Ahem, as I was saying, you will all have a 20,000 word one-shot due at the end of each month. This month's theme is something that inspires you. Whether it be friends, family or the heavily-used cliché theme of love–"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Lovino, Gilbert, and Antonio jumped slightly, sitting to my right, as did the rest of the class save for Francis and myself. Unfortunately, the Frog realized that night classes weren't ideal if he wanted to go out with his friends, and ended up changing most of his classes to conveniently fit the same schedule as mine.

Prof. Braginski paused, waiting to see if there would be any other noise disruptions before continuing. The class was silent, unnerved by the persistent bangs echoing across the amphitheatre. Fifteen minutes passed since the lecture had first started, and yet, hardly anything had been discussed.

Francis – who was sitting by my left – and I exchanged wary looks as the professor began to appear more and more distressed. Rumour has it that he was an extreme introvert and didn't like staying at this university for long, despite having received an education here. Something traumatic happened here to him many years ago, and he only taught out of politeness, going against his wishes.

The hairs on the back of my neck pricked, a faint ringing sound bristling at the tips of my ears.

Something wasn't right. My stomach flopped with inexplicable feelings of anxiety, dread, and hurt. They seeped into my entire being, doing everything to make my mood miserable. Immediately, I recognized that this was all a spirit's doing.

Francis must have noticed this too because he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, rubbing his forehead frequently. Channelling these emotions was a common symptom for spiritual communicators. In fact, I could already feel the beginnings of a migraine form in my own head.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Prof. Braginski inhaled deeply, rustling the papers in front of him out of nervous habit. "Perhaps there is the construction going on? Leaky piping?" he proposed, slipping into broken English, his voice in an even thicker Russian accent than before.

"How can it be construction or leaky piping if the whole building is shaking?" Gilbert bent over to whisper to Antonio. "It feels like the entire roof is going to cave. And, I don't know about you, but I didn't see any cranes on my way here. Damn, I bet you anything this building is old enough to collapse on us at any given moment. Eh, at least I won't have exams to worry about," he teased nervously, using jokes to compensate for his own unease.

Antonio's eyes widened, just about breaking into tears. Lovino turned sharply and began to hiss at Gilbert for upsetting Antonio.

Another ten minutes passed before Prof. Braginski ended the class early, instructing us to check our emails tonight, as we would likely be changing lecture locations – again.

None of the students complained, eager to get out of class early. Meanwhile, Francis and I stayed back in solidarity, stiff in our seats.

Gilbert stood up, looping his backpack over his right shoulder. "Man, this is so awesome! Maybe if we're lucky, he'll cancel the whole class altogether. Free credits, am I right?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, taking a large chug from his coffee, needing the caffeine to be able to cope with the idiocy around him. "The amount of optimism in that statement is hopeless. Of course he's not going to cancel the class, you knuckle head."

Gilbert pouted.

Lovino faltered, nudging a frozen Antonio's shoulder like a prying mother. "Up you go, bastard. Class is over, didn't you hear?"

Numbly, Antonio stood on the promise that Gilbert and Lovino would take him to their favourite study room. Secretly, they all knew the campus was haunted, but didn't want to make the idea seem real. And so, the thought of ghosts haunting the classroom went largely unacknowledged.

Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino began to pile down the aisles, only to turn back when they realized that Francis and I hadn't left our seats.

"Fran, aren't you coming?" Gilbert asked. He didn't bother to ask me. The four of them had no idea where I disappeared to after class, only knowing that I preferred being alone when I studied.

"Non, I'm going to stay here."

"With Arthur?" Antonio cocked his head to the side, incredulous.

"Oui, with Arthur. We, ah, both have a love for investigating things, isn't that right Arthur?" Francis mused, lightly elbowing me in the rib-cage.

It took a lot of willpower not to punch him in the throat. "Yes, that's right," I played along with the lie. "We're going to try and figure out the source of the noise. I'm sure there's a rational explanation for them. Honestly, you people always over-react and come to the most ridiculous conclusions."

Gilbert shrugged, adamant on leaving the classroom. He was still spooked by the wardrobe incident, even if I had ruled it off as something non-paranormally related. "Suit yourselves, weirdos. If you get murdered by Bloody Mary, Toni and I call dibs on your room. It's bigger."

"But of course. If that happens, I'll be expecting you three to plan my funeral and bury me in great fashion," Francis joked, grinning as the two friends and the other who denied being their friend but actually was left the auditorium.

As soon as we heard the front doors shut with a thud, we stood up from our seats and piled down to the podium at the front of the room.

I began to pace back and forth, closing my eyes, hoping to get any hints of the spirit residing here. Once again, I got nothing but the same emotions as before.

"A-ha! Got you!" Francis cackled, grabbing my shoulders out of nowhere.

"WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUCK WAS THAT FOR?!" I roared, jumping in fright. The Frog still hadn't learned his lesson from before, that ass.

Francis laughed and bent over to hold his knees, blond curls swinging. "Desole, I just had to. The look of constipation on your face was priceless," he said, straightening his posture. He then wiped a tear from his eye.

I glared at Francis, considering grabbing the meter stick by the front chalk board. There would soon be two ghosts here if he wasn't careful.

"No one asked you to stay back with me," I growled. "If you're going to be a cocky twat, then you may as well leave. I have a full schedule, one that doesn't involve putting up with your constant bullshit."

Acknowledging that he had pushed me too far, Francis raised both hands in surrender. "All right, all right, jokes aside, let's help this spirit. Although, I thought we were having a bonding moment. We both knew we would stay back without having to tell each other. It's adorable, non? How in tune we are with each other?"

"I'll repeat myself again, Frog. Focus, or stop wasting my time."

Francis's shoulders slumped, bored that he couldn't poke fun at me anymore. "Oui, oui, je sais," he muttered.

"Pardon our intrusion," I spoke up, "but, if there is anyone else here in this auditorium, please speak up. We are spiritual communicators and have no other intentions but to help you cross over to the other side. You don't have to be afraid that we can see you. I assure you, we mean no harm."

"What he said," Francis purred. "I can sense much stress and fear from you. Let us make it all go away."

"What are you, a spiritual prostitute?" I snorted. "You sound like you're trying to seduce it into bed."

"Am not!" Francis gasped.

"Are too!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The ceiling shuddered and creaked.

"Hello?" I whispered, a bit frightened from how violent the sound was. "I'm sorry for my friend, truly I am. He's a good guy once you get around his ring of obnoxiousness. I won't argue with you like I do with him, promise."

"You're such a miserable grouch, mon dieu! I'm half convinced you're possessed by a bitter 80 year-old-man," Francis growled, walking up to me, a sneer on his usually languid, dreamy face.

Even though we were the same height, I straightened my shoulders and jabbed an angry index finger at him. "Now you listen here! Just because I'm not letting you waltz right into my life with opened legs, doesn't mean you have to be so immature about it. I told you this from the beginning. I'm an asshole. Stop pointing out the obvious, and let's just get this over with, Christ! Either deal with me or leave! I won't repeat myself again!"

"Ohonhonhon!" Francis cracked up, a pervy expression on his face. "Open legs, huh? What an interesting choice of words."

"It's a saying, you tart. No need to get literal!"

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Oh look, you made it angry."

"Moi? I did no such thing!"

Francis and I both fell silent when the sound of heavy footsteps pattered against the back of the auditorium. No one was there when we looked over our shoulders, however.

"What in the-?" I spluttered. "I'm starting to think we're dealing with a poltergeist. It's the only explanation. It's likely just messing with us."

I'M SORRY! PLEASE, DON'T LEAVE ME!

A voice, unmatchable to anything I've ever heard before, screamed in my mind. Judging by Francis's equally petrified and intrigued expression he had heard it too.

"Q-quoi? We're not leaving, we're right here?"

"Idiot, this place isn't being haunted by an active ghost," I concluded, all of the pieces fitting together. "It's a memory. Something here must have triggered it into existence again. The bangs will stop eventually, there's nothing more we can do."

"Ah… I see now." Francis hummed in understanding.

When a person died, fragments of memories often spread and attached themselves to objects or places meaningful to them. Someone here must have triggered the memory by thinking or saying something, likely on accident. I'd give it a couple days before the memory faded away again.

The problem was, despite the lingering memory, I had no idea if the actual spirit had passed on or not. Spirits lived in different planes of existence. Most times, they didn't realize they were dead and lived their lives normally, creating sounds that those alive would consider to be a haunting. This occurrence, however, was just a memory replaying itself. It wasn't the spirit themself.

Just as Francis and I prepared to leave, Gilbert, Antonio, and Lovino poked their heads into the classroom. I deadpanned upon realizing they had been standing outside in the hallway this entire time.

How much did they know?

"So…" Gilbert drawled, stumbling into the auditorium again, red eyes wide in apprehension. "What the hell just happened?" he put ever so eloquently.

Francis and I glanced at each other, not wanting to reveal too much. You never knew how someone would react to this kind of news. It was the bad, ostracizing reactions that prevents us communicators from telling people about our abilities.

Antonio ended it all by bluntly blurting out what the other two were thinking. "You guys can speak to ghosts? Ay! That would make a lot of sense. I knew you saw something in that wardrobe, Arturo!"

"I sure did," I muttered to myself, solemn at the thought.

"Honestly, what the fuck is even happening anymore?" Lovino followed Antonio and Gilbert into the auditorium, still hesitant as the bangs quieted, but didn't exactly stop.

"Oui," Francis stepped in, since it was obvious I wasn't going to say anything. "We are known as spiritual communicators, or mediums to put it more simply. There is no reason to worry. There are no spirits in this room."

"Ja, we heard. You said something about a memory. Anyway, I'm freaked the shit out, but also strangely excited?" Gilbert grinned. "Why did you bozos hide this from us? You're like real life ghostbusters!"

"Because normally when you tell someone this, they get weirded out," I countetred.

"Everyone here is strange, I honestly don't give a fuck about who or what you are so long as you're not an asshole. What just happened is enough evidence in itself, so you don't have to worry about us not believing you either," Lovino sighed, looking done with life. Same.

"Like Lovi said, you were already weird to begin with," Antonio smiled obliviously. "Honestly, we would have accepted you two either way. Now I feel even safer knowing that you guys won't let any scary demons possess us. My parents didn't want me coming here because of the rumours of it being haunted! They can sleep sound now!"

Lovino smacked the back of Antonio's head. "Idiota! What did I say about being rude to people in person?"

Antonio whined.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was still ogling at us 'mediums' like a child. "Hey, Fran? Do you think you could get in touch with my Gramps? He had a bunch of funds in the bank, but no one can access them because there's a shit ton of security locks. Can you? Huh? Huh? Oh gott, please man. I've been wanting to buy a new car for so long now, but that stingy old fart's accounts aren't supposed to open up for another year. I'm dying here!"

Gilbert's poor choice of words completely triumphed over mine.

"Imbeciles," I shook my head, shoving past Antonio to leave the auditorium.

"Where are you going?" Francis reprimanded, pausing his mini morality lecture with Gilbert. "We still have much to explain."

"I don't have to explain shit!" I called over my shoulder. "I've experienced enough stupidity for an entire week. I need time to recover the brain cells I lost."

The clack of Lovino's dress shoes were quick to catch up with me. "Agreed. Oi, let's get some coffee, my treat?" he offered.

"Sure, why the hell not?"

Before Antonio could join us, Lovino rudely shut the auditorium's door in front of the Spaniard's face.

I couldn't help but laugh.

…

Jittery and anxious already, the coffee I had with Lovino offered no aid in calming my nerves.

As always, after class I found myself in the library, sitting at the front desk even though I wasn't on shift. I was flipping through the cameras again, going over last night's footage. The ghost always came to snatch the food when I wasn't around – it was infuriating.

Matthew, still caught in my lie, found it funny how I was trying to find a rational explanation for the food's disappearance.

"Still scanning the footage, huh?" Matthew mused as he entered the library. He shook his head, soft curls falling out of his eyes as he draped a casual arm over the front desk. "You're so predictable, Arthur."

"I can't help it," I responded. "I'm a very routine-orientated person."

"I can tell," Matthew smirked. "So, come up with or find anything?"

"No, nothing at all," I groaned.

"I'm telling you, this library is the most haunted place on campus. For decades, my family has dedicated themselves to taking care of it. Are you really just going to discard everything they've seen with their own two eyes? Or how about me? I've seen things move without anyone touching them."

I rubbed my temple. "It's all either bollocks or hearsay. I'll believe you when I see it myself. Although," I paused, contemplating my next few words carefully. "I checked the records. It really is unbelievable how many students have committed suicide on the rooftop here. I didn't know this school used to double as a boarding school for high school students either. The information was so well-hidden. It's like the Deans went out of their way to hide it."

Matthew's eyes became sad. "You didn't know that? And yes, very true. The high suicide rate was a huge reason why my grandmother starting hosting a homework club here, actually."

I furrowed my brows in confusion. I remembered him mentioning something about losing a relative in a tragedy like this, but I was having a hard time connecting the dots.

"Oh," Matthew smiled sheepishly. "That relative of mine, they went to the boarding school, but that's completely unrelated. Basically, the club was founded to prevent more suicides; there hasn't been one here since, so I think it's safe to say that it's been really successful in its objective. The homework club offers a safe place for struggling students to come together and make friends. We help each other out and just talk, you know? You're always welcome to join too if you want. I'm sure you've seen the posters. We meet on Fridays here on the first floor."

"That's a wonderful idea," I admitted. "No one wonder it's done so well. But, I'm afraid this is the first I'm hearing from it."

Matthew looked disappointed; he had a talent for living under the radar. "Well, it does have its drawbacks," Matthew sighed. "Recently, I've been tutoring this German guy. His writing is decent, but he still refuses to accept that he can't use the word awesome every two sentences."

"I know someone very similar," I bitterly remarked. "Writers who can't accept criticism just aren't cut out for the field I suppose."

"Eh, I'll get through to him eventually. He's actually a pretty good guy once you brush past his ego."

"Best of luck to you then," I smiled faintly, standing up from my seat.

"Going to the rooftop… again?" Matthew asked, somewhat pensive.

"Yes," I flushed at the reminder. Alfred was my friend, nothing else. I could still enjoy spending time with him.

"There's a wonderful pair of benches and the scenery helps my muse. I always come up with the best writing ideas there. Besides, I'm not the only one who thinks that way. I have a friend I usually sit and chat with," I rambled, overcompensating with my explanation because of the strange look Matthew was giving me.

"That's good, I guess," Matthew shrugged. "It's just a bit odd, considering…"

'Yes, yes, I know," I filled in for him. "It has a depressing history and what not. Still, that shouldn't stop other people from enjoying it."

Matthew smiled. "You're right. Sorry if I seemed judgemental there. I didn't intend to be."

I laughed. "I've experienced far more judgemental things in my life, lad. No worries."

I left the front desk. "See you later," I said, waving over my shoulder with my knapsack haphazardly draped over my left shoulder.

"Take care," Matthew replied back.

When Arthur was out of sight, Matthew pursed his lips, watching the stiff posture of the Brit with narrowed eyes.

"He's definitely hiding something from me," the Canadian whispered to himself. "…I just hope he's okay."

To be continued...