#I feel like they have a similar amount of rage inside

[verkomy]

when you look into the mirror are you even there?

[astolfofo]

TW: NON CON, power abuse, al haitham just being al haitham (he's a red flag y'all), power abuse, choking

bruh I just realized I wrote this at 2am last night, while being boderline drunk and high and there's probably spelling mistakes in here. I believe I deleted all the parts where my hand kept slipping but this is not proofread so heads up for that.

so.

yandere kaveh and yandere al haitham with an unaware darling that is oblivious to their hints. like doesn't see that they like them at all. only thinks they're being nice.

but then, they eventually see darling with another man. and it enrages them a lot. because, how dare you hold hands or talk to another man while they've been so kind to you? and all you did was reject their advances? do you really hate them that much?

obviously, they've got different ways of expressing their... envy. Kaveh's much more direct about it than Al Haitham. Kaveh wants to directly kidnap you and wants to punish you directly for this. However, Al Haitham otherwise. You see, Al Haitham thinks about everyone equally, but he's also the kind of guy that would expect whatever he gave to be returned. This obviously includes affection. Not only that, but you embarrassed him, you know? You don't need a punishment. You need a lesson taught to you.

And after much bickering between these two, they finally compromise. They'll take you (that was inevitable from the start), in the most excruciatingly painful way possible.

First, they'll ruin your academic reputation. Rumors went out that you were being scandalous with your current boyfriend. At the same time, you're accused of faking many of your papers (a blatant lie on Al Haitham's behalf) but people believed it either way. and once your reputation is ruined, you find yourself in Al Haitham's office.

You're expelled.

You stand there in shock. You couldn't believe it. The rumors were fake, you argue. They were made up, and Al Haitham knows that. Still, Al Haitham scoffs and tells you that there's no changing the current course of events. If you didn't want to be banished from grounds, you shouldn't have done the things you did.

"What did I even do?" you asked. The shock was still in your mind, numbing everything else from happening. You'd need a plan on what to do next.

"You should be clearly aware of what you did to yourself. This is only the result of your own actions."

You and Al Haitham both knew he was abusing his power, but you were in no position to argue about that. So, while now being jobless, you go back to your dorm and pack everything up. Your mind is so filled with negative thoughts while simultaneously wondering what to do next to notice Kaveh inside your dorm.

As you're packing up, you don't notice Kaveh walking into the room. you're painfully oblivious to your surroundings since you're lost in your own mind. the anger, rage, anxiety you felt made everything else impossible to sense.

And them the emotions that were boiling inside of exploded, and then turned into nothing. You felt tears running down your cheeks, you felt an immeasurable amount of dread for your future. What the hell. were you supposed to do?

At the same time, you felt an arm wrap around your neck. You attempt to look back and see who it was, but found it impossible.

The grip gets tighter and tighter over your neck, until you almost black out. You hear five words: this is your own fault. and then the world goes black.

When you wake up, your head feels terrible. You don't know where you are, or how you got here. The dorm looks similar to your own, albeit a little larger with more expensive instruments inside it.

you take a glance around. and then it hits you again.

you were kidnapped.

At this very moment, Kaveh walks into the room, and you swore to yourself this situation couldn't get any worse.

TW FOR HARD NON CON DOWN BELOW

Kaveh forces you onto your knees while you're sobbing, since you know that he was the one that kidnapped you.

You look at Al Haitham that's sitting in the corner watching this all happen.

Meanwhile Kaveh's going a mile a minute about how much he loves you, and how you ignored all their advances, just to be seen with another man, and that this is the least you deserve for doing that. Not only did you ruin their faces, you dare flat out deny their affections to you?

You deserve this. if anything.

---

Kaveh forces his entire length down your throat, which causes you to choke. But that doesn't stop him in the slightest. In fact, he was enjoying your suffering. Every second of it.

Not to mention, how good your mouth felt around his cock, how could he stop? So he kept going, not giving two damns about whether you were struggling to breathe, or what he was doing.

And while you were fighting for the oxygen to go to your lungs, while uncontrollably sobbing, you saw out of the corner of your eye, that Al Haitham was getting off to this. And then, a wave of dread washed over you. Fear, if anything. You had a sinking suspicion of what was going to happen next, and you didn't want to let it happen.

Al Haitham walks towards you, eyeing how helpless you are. You really... really, can't do much without him or kaveh, can you?

He eyes your bare figure for a second, and you desperately try to close your legs, but he forces them open.

And your worst fear comes true.

Al Haitham slowly puts one finger inside your hole, causing you to sharply inhale from the sensation. the sensation feels extremely unpleasant, due to the friction, and being dry beforehand.

and then he slowly starts moving that finger, causing you to moan, very muffled, since Kavehs cock was still inside your mouth.

It hurt. A lot. Your throat felt like it was going to break in on itself from being pounded by Kaveh's dick, and the friction stung from Al Haithams fingers.

And then, Al Haitham inserted another finger. You were trying your very best not to give the men a reaction, but they seemed not to care either way. The sounds that filled the room made you wince in digust, but it wasn't like you could stop them from happening.

And you also felt something building building up too. Something like a string that was being pulled harder, and harder, until it would...

and then all motions ceased.

Kaveh and Al Haitham both stopped stopped their actions, and you felt something. Frustrated? Confused?

You weren't sure.

But all you knew was you were physically and mentally exhausted. and that you could no longer stay conscious. Too exhausted to process or feel traumatized but what just happened.

And so you passed out from exhaustion, yet again, clueless to how Kaveh's and Al Haitham's facial expressions darkened as you did.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Just feral reader is in my mind just a reader that goes ape shit when someone tries to harm one of the links

oooh! I love the way you think! Gonna do this with Calamity!Link because this has been in my mind for too long to not write about

Hope you like it :>

CW: Harsh language, Me smack talking Flora a wee bit, power dynamic abuse

Plants, Like people

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Something was wrong. Not wrong enough that it was readily apparent, but enough that it ate at you, gnawing at your ribs with worry. Sure, there was always something inherently off about Hyrule pre-calamity that you couldn’t quite place. You pushed some loose hair away from your face and let out a heavy sigh. It was like there was a problem staring you right in the face, and no matter how much reasoning you did, it never went away. It festered, like creeping ivy crawling up a wall, latching to the stone of a home. It was like the Japanese honeysuckle, suffocating an eco system, leaving nothing but itself. Or like kudzu, out competing every other plant to the point it overgrows the grasses and trees. In long and short, there was a problem. You looked at your empty room in the palace, basic by all standards but you weren’t one to complain. Despite the room being larger than your own back home you couldn’t help but feel suffocated. You pushed off the chair at your desk and made a beeline to the door, looking to escape the room and your worries before they swallowed you whole.

In your wandering of the castle -uninterrupted by crawling pools of malice- you realised just how similar it was to Flora’s. The halls mirrored, the statues and carvings the same, a one to one. Yet despite that this castle was the very same as the one you just walked, it still felt so foreign. So… unwelcoming. Cold. You shook the thought and led yourself tyne whole way up the castle, winding all the way up to the sanctum. It took a decent amount of effort to press into the room, enough that as you had your shoulder pressed to the door, you could hear a voice from inside the room. Flora- eh, this iteration of her at least spoke. It was an understatement to say there was a difference in this worlds Flora from the one you were accustomed to seeing. She was always perfectly poised, a slight smirk whenever she spoke, looking to everyone as if she was owed respect, as if she were Hylia herself and not a decent of fading blood. Surly after so many years the power has thinned itself out by now, but the specific aspects of divinity evaded you. Afterall, the shrieks of a princess were far more attention catching.

“I mean come on are you even useful? All you have is that stupid sword. And even with that,” Her voice mocks, as if threatening, challenging whoever she verbally opposes to fight back. Because she knows what consequence would befall them if they did.

“I hold more power than you ever will. You are beneath me. I am descendent of the goddess. I am heir to the throne of Hyrule. And you?” You manage to see through a window in the doors elaborate carving, your feet ache at the stretch upward. Flora stands less than an arms length from Link’s -Or Calamity’s, Cal to be short- face. He stares off, shielding himself from the verbal tirade.

“You’re nothing.” Fire teens in your chest, liking at your ribs and clawing at your throat. You don’t have the control to stop yourself as you throw the doors open. You look at Flora as she does everything else. As a weed. Because that’s all she was to you now.

“Excuse you?” Your voice is an eerie calm, as if all worry you once held was nothing but a pretense to the burning rage scraping at your skin. You place yourself between a furious toddler of a princess and a knight who just looks more tired than anything. You didn’t like to think of how often this had to happen. Flora purses her lips, standing tall again as she prepares another indignant tantrum.

“Don’t even. You have no place to talk to anyone in such a manor. You are nothing but a child of a thinning bloodline. Your title -null as it is- means nothing.” She looks shocked, startled at your words. You explained to her, as if she were a toddler, the concept of basic respect. You pressed forward, forcing her to move backward. “It’s pathetic, really. How you treat people. I mean, I suppose for someone who wasn’t loved enough as a child it makes sense, but even then this is cruel. Petty. Maybe I should’ve expected less from you and I wouldn’t be so disappointed.” A low blow? Absolutely. Did you care? Not in the slightest. She raises her hand, still firm in her belief that no harm could come to her. But hubris brings down even the brightest of people. You catch her wrist as she swats at you face. You don’t stop yourself from laughing, the amused cackle echoing across the sanctum. “This has been fun. But I have better things to be doing with my time.” You smile, turning on your heel as Flora stands, utterly baffled. You entwined your hand with Link’s as he also stood entranced. You didn’t stop walking until you left the palace. It was a miracle that woman was alive.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Cal pov:

He couldn’t focus on anything other than the warm hand that occupied one of his own. He breathing was shaky -why was it so? it never was whenever the princess criticised him- and his mind flew by thoughts faster than he could manage. Goddesses he was so weak. Zelda was right. He couldn’t even take basic criticism. How could he ever be a hero? How could he ever be worth anything?

“Hey- Breathe.” Two warm hands cupped his cheeks, he recoiled in shock but found himself sinking into it. It was you. Goddess sent, his very sun in the sky you.

“I’m sorry, Hero” His heart nearly melted, such kind words, soft tone. That nickname, lords. He was swooning, his cheeks and ears warm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’m so so sorry. You’re worth everything, you know? To me. You try so hard and I promise you, it’s noticed.” One hand stays upon his cheek as the other cards through his hair, massaging his scalp. He lets a few bittersweet tears fall from his eyes. Fragility he was never allowed. But you pressed kisses to each tear, held him as he shattered, years worth of stress finally finding a break. You put so much pressure in an object and it explodes. Perhaps it’s not so different for people.

[pamgkrthwrites]

Hi! I'm curious about LMK yanderes x reader in a scenario where they have kids, but like after some time passed kids are teenagers and start to date, especially daughters, what would be daddy's reactions? Would reader be able to stop them from making the potential boyfriend dissapear? :3

Wukong, Macaque, Nezha, Red Son, Mk

This took me two days and one church service to finish. My head hurts from the amount of Pepsi I've had.

Support me here

Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Yandere Themes, Unhealthy/Abusive Relationships, Mentions of past Forced Pregnancy, Stalking, Bodily Harm(Breaking legs), Kidnapping, Burning/Arson, Murder, Mentions the Dugger Family(from 19 Kids and Counting/Counting On), and others. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment. The character(s) depicted within this post are over the age of 20.

Wukong

As I've alluded to this in past posts, Wukong only has children with you so he can have control over you.

But once one of your children starts having a romantic interest?

There's something that snaps inside of him.

He suddenly becomes extremely overprotective of your children, growls are their partners and will tell the love interest he doesn't approve of them dating his baby princess/prince.

If you are able to stop him following after your child while they are on their date, he will be grumbling while you rub his head.

Macaque

Similar to Wukong, something will snap deep inside of him.

"Your- Your boy/girlfriend?"

Will stalk your child on their date, will stalk the romantic interest back to their him, will learn everything about them.

If he finds out that the partner does anything, even something small like not washing their hands after going to the bathroom, he will tell your child they aren't allowed to date them.

It is extremely hard to get his permission to date any of his children.

MK

It will fly over his head when he first learns of it and does the slowest double-take.

Will be like days later when he's shopping as his smile just drops from his face as he goes "Wait hold on-"

Rushes home(after paying of course), barging into the house with tears in his eyes "MY BABY IS DATING?!"

Is actually rather supportive, just makes sure his baby isn't going to get hurt.

OH AND IF THEY EVER BREAK UP THEN THE EX WILL HAVE BROKEN LEGS.

Red Son

Tries his fucking best to keep himself sane.

One the outside, he seems rather cold about the situation. In reality, he has a burning rage regarding.

Better pray for whoever is dating your child cause the moment he even heard his child being upset about something the other did, it's death.

They will go missing, they will be burnt alive, and their teeth will be removed from their body.

"Sorrows sorrows prayers."

Nezha

I don't think Nezha will ever be ready for any of their children to have a romantic life. Emotionally, anyway.

I think Nezha would have a rule where their children aren't allowed to date until their coming-of-age ceremonies(Apparently it's called The Guan Li for men and Ji Li for women and from what I can tell the ages are between 15-20).

Are you aware of the Dugger family? If you are, you might be aware that the father has a quiz the would-be sons-in-law have to do before they can date his daughters. I feel as if Nezha would do this too. However, if there is even one answer he doesn't like then it's a no.

Nezha will insist on sitting through all the dates to make sure their little lotus is safe and happy.

Unlike the others on this list though, if the child expresses to Nezha that they really do like the person and want to date them, Nezha is going to let go and let them date. They watch from afar and make sure their child is safe, but they will let their Lotus bloom.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Lol.

Yeah… the more news that comes out just confirms more of what I thought. This unnamed character who moves from HYBE to ADOR, and mere weeks later, HYBE gets a ‘tip-off’ and all the incriminating documents are in his work diaries where he narrates things MHJ has supposedly said, including that she believes that Bang establishing BTS or groups with the same cache as BTS, was him copying her…. Everything that’s found in his documents is almost clinically incendiary lmao. Like, weapons-grade rage bait. Partly because of how bizarre it is. And the sinker - they tie it to Min Heejin supposedly wanting more money. MHJ has meanwhile released another, stronger statement refuting the allegations about trying to stage a management takeover, or artists contract leaks etc.

Of course, the discourse about this is going to develop predictably, especially after the mention of BTS and other groups MHJ supposedly says copied her.

This has all the makings of one thing and only one thing, to me. It doesn’t change my opinion about Bang PD but it does make me revise my view on Min Heejin, she’s a bit more naive than I assumed her to be. I feel a bit sorry for her, because she’s been got. Again. It’s similar to the ig situation that also started with ‘a gift’ her ‘friend from SM’ gave her to congratulate her on launching ADOR - a gift that ended up being the most damning controversy that almost sunk the group. A controversy where the primary demand was for her to leave NewJeans and HYBE. Now, a ‘right-hand man’ transfers from HQ to her team and it’s his uncorroborated narrations that match what’s in the ‘tip-off’… the demands are the same.

I like MHJ, but I’ve always watched her with caution because in Korea, no woman makes it to the c-suite without making a shit tonne of enemies. Imagine it to be triple the amount a regular working class man makes on his way up the ladder, because that kind of status in Korea is something you’re either born into, or born close to. It’s rare for working class men to work their way up and even more rare for women. In fact, I’d say it’s an aberration.

I see all the flack MHJ gets for being a narcissistic bitch, wanting to constantly assert ownership of her ideas, wanting to be widely associated with her successful projects, etc. I see people irritated by her arrogance, but full disclosure, I like her for it. For several reasons, but one reason is that in her environment, the default is to let your male superiors take credit for your work. It happens in corporate environments all over the world, but in Korea it’s a mentality entrenched in the DNA. Pushing against that earns you enemies every time you speak, by default. But I suspect that’s how she worked her way up from being a graphic designer to having a seat on the board of directors at SM Entertainment before leaving when they wouldn’t give her more autonomy. So, in my eyes, she’s got spunk. But also, now I see she’s clumsy.

Oftentimes with corporate drama, there’s no point using moral language because it’s just business. You either pitched the best deal or you didn’t. You either fucked up or you didn’t. It’s cold numbers and rationality - business. But… there are some cases where it’s not really about the business, cases where it’s personal.

I don’t have meaningful insider information, I’m reading the press releases and ‘leaks’ along with everyone else, so I can’t be certain and that’s why I’m talking in this long-winded ramble without coming right out to say exactly what I think. What I’ll say though is that this is less about NewJeans and more about Min Heejin. And she’s the first person who should’ve understood that and taken necessary precautions.

Clearly, it doesn’t look like she has, and in that sense she has no one but herself to blame. She’s being stupid, in fact I’d say delusional in some ways, but I guess some things can’t be helped. NewJeans isn’t exactly fucked, but it’s clear that yet again, they are collateral damage. And it’s a shame.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Prologue (Reader and the crew on Halloween's eve)

Pairing: During the Prologue, none. You can pair the reader with anyone you want ;)

Summary: It's finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn't stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or... At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: YEEEEES 'TIS TIME!!!! Ok, a little bit earlier, but I just finished writing the Prologue - if everything goes as planned, I'll write and post Dante's and Vergil's parts on Halloween day/night.

And yes, I know the summary is a little foggy on the theme this year but... I'm really counting on the plot twist at the end, so bear with me please HAHAHAHA

It's based on an ask sent by the amazing @furyeclipse with an awesome idea that I was thinking about for a while and figured it would be a good Halloween theme. I'll answer the ask as soon as I post the two parts on the 31st as not to spoil the fun :3 but thanks so much dear! It sparkled my writing again and I'll be always grateful for that ^^

Happy Halloween, demons, devil hunters and lil' critters!!

Prologue

Contrary to what everyone at the Devil May Cry would believe, it took a lot to get on the Sparda twins’ nerves.

One would never say Dante and Vergil were particularly patient – but, after living with them for a while, they did seem to have an above the average tolerance regarding many matters. Maybe it was because of all the things they had lived, or maybe just because actually sitting and listening to what demons had to say in order to have a smart clap back required an insurmountable amount of patience: no one would ever be able to pinpoint why, but the Sparda twins were able to put up with a lot.

 When the last strands of that patience grew thin and finally torn apart, though, it was usually followed by all hells breaking lose. In that department, Dante and Vergil had very different ways to react: while the red devil burnt in an explosion of controlled fiery anger, the blue devil lost control under his usually carefully measured icy rage.

Two sides of the same coin, as you would say.

That day, it took a lot of time before they started getting annoyed by Nero constantly tapping his feet on the ground at the shop.

Dante was lazily thrown at his desk, sitting on his big chair and trying to enjoy some random magazine from years prior that he never seemed to fully end reading. Vergil was immobile, a little too stiff on the couch, having one of his many obscure poetry books in one hand while the other lightly rested over Yamato – always at arm’s length. Nero sat on the very same couch, with enough distance between him and his father, slouching while looking at different points in the shop and tapping his feet on the ground as if he was the drummer of a metal band.

Incessantly.

That had been going for hours. At first, it wasn’t annoying – both twins thought the kid would eventually calm down and stop. But after a while, Nero didn’t stop… And it only seemed to get worse.

Of course, neither Dante nor Vergil would notice both of them lightly frowning at the same time when the tapping noise started to get on their nerves. Still absorbed by their reads, the Spardas didn’t move their signature blue eyes from the pages, but the annoyed expression was the very same.

Indeed, twins. Even if they would die before admitting they were more similar than they realized.

A good half hour passed before they started getting really annoyed – probably around the same time Nero started using his hands to lightly tap on his thighs, using the same rhythm of his feet.

That exasperation started to bubble inside their chests, like a volcano that would soon explode in harsh feelings – and Dante was the first one to actually do something about it.

“Hey, kid.” He moved his sky-blue eyes towards Nero, making his nephew immediately look back at him. Without halting the tapping. “Everything alright? You’re gonna start a one-man band soon enough.”

“Yeah, yeah. I have restless leg syndrome, ya know?” Nero answered in his nonchalant tone as always – the very same punk Dante met at Fortuna. Years could go by, but that big-mouthed angry kid he met in that stuck-up cult city would never change in his eyes.

Something Dante was very fond of, if he had to be honest.

Not a single second passed before the sheath of the Yamato lightly – but sternly – hit Nero’s thighs; with enough pressure to hold them down, almost with no effort from the man wielding it.

“Enough.” Vergil’s words were crowned by the side look from his frozen silver eyes, moving just the muscles he needed to make his son stop that madness.

“C’mon…” Nero let out a huff, rolling his eyes and throwing his head back at the same time, finally stopping the tapping. It was enough to make Vergil put the Yamato back on its place and go back to his reading. “Am I supposed to just stay here waitin’ with ya the whole day?”

“They’re gonna be alright, kid.” Dante closed his magazine, tossing it on the desk and moving his feet down to the floor. Leaning towards the couch, he rested one of his elbows on his knee. “Y/n is one hell of a hunter and your lil’ angel is more than great at helpin’. They’ll be back in no time.”

“Yeah, but what if somethin’ goes wrong? What if Kyrie gets hurt?” Nero got up and started using his accumulated energy to walk around the shop while tapping on his thighs. He had to move.

“Don’t you trust your own training…?” Vergil once again raised his silvery eyes from the book, staring at his son fumbling around and not knowing what to do with himself – the very opposite of his immovable force.

Nero stared back at his own father, aquamarine eyes burning with anger. Dante had to smile and stifle a laugh: he knew his brother quite well to know Vergil wasn’t saying that just to be insufferable, he was actually playfully teasing his own son. Just like he used to do with Dante whenever their never-ending bantering started.

It was good to see Vergil was finally getting comfortable with his own kid to allow himself that kind of behavior. Dante saw that as a good sign.

“Well, last time Kyrie got caught up in the middle of somethin’, crazy-ass Sanctus and Nico’s dad kidnapped her to be slurped into a huge semi-organic-marble statue of world’s greatest grandpa Sparda while your ass was crumblin’ in Hell.” Now Nero was as red as a bell pepper, making Dante raise his eyebrows and side-eye his twin brother. Sometimes, Vergil deserved the burn. “Had to use Yamato to beat that old creep to pieces to get my girl back, so excuse me if I’m worried about lettin’ her go on a mission without me on Halloween of all days!”

Feeling Dante’s not-at-all discreet stare, Vergil’s eyes turned back to his brother right after.

“Kid’s got a point.” That’s all the red devil would say, crowned by a shrug. He loved to see Vergil being more comfortable around his son to allow more of his personality to show through – but he also had to admit Vergil needed a scolding from time to time after all the things he had done.

And his list of sins was actually huge, so there would be a lot of scolding.

“Kyrie is a very competent healer.” Vergil sighed and decided it was time to close his book and rest it on his legs – it was not like he would be able to go back to read anyway. “And y/n is a remarkable hunter. You taught Kyrie how to handle guns and swords. Even if things turn out not like they are expecting, demons would require a remarkable force to subdue them.” His silvery eyes had nothing but calculated calm, making Nero finally stop on his tracks and actually listen. “When you think about things logically, you realize the chance of them coming back safely is greater than whatever worry stirring in your heart.”

Nero rested his hands on his hips, his mouth pursed in a slit while his aquamarine eyes narrowed in their mission of glaring his father. He didn’t want to admit, but that was one hell of an advice. Vergil’s strength relied on his mind seeing things logically and counting all odds without his heart interfering in the matter – which probably was the reason why he survived so long in Hell.

Nero hated when Vergil was right – and specially when his advices were so sound. It reminded him of the father he never had, of the advices he never got to receive to help his life be a little bit less miserable – and it reminded him that even if he was mad Vergil was never there for him, it was because his father was locked in Hell as a puppet in Mundus’ hands, not even knowing he had a son, suffering innumerous tortures until Dante rid him of all that by killing his own brother… Only to survive somehow and drag himself out of all that shit.

It would be easier for Nero to hate Vergil if he only had left in pursue of power and never cared if he had a child. It would be a lot easier for Nero to deal with his feelings if that was the case.

“Verge’s right, kid. I’m not one to respond logically to things…” Dante raised his hands as if he was being held at gunpoint as soon as those fuming aquamarine eyes stared at him. “But hey, you gotta have some sense sometimes. They’re good at what they do. It wasn’t such a difficult job and your lil’ angel has an opportunity to take care of the people who were injured. It’s gonna be fine.”

Differently from Vergil, Dante wasn’t being held hostage while Nero had to learn to survive on his own – at least not like his twin brother in Hell. Even if Nero wanted to say Dante could have done something, could have been a blood bond he so desperately needed, the man in front of him could hide under so many masks but couldn’t stop his sky-blue eyes of showing all the sadness he carried inside.

Vergil could have been locked down in Hell, but Dante was being held hostage in his own mind. Carrying the grief of being the only survivor on that fateful night, and then the heart-wrenching sorrow of killing his own twin brother in order to rid him of the suffering he had been forced to endure during all that time in Hell. The guilt Dante carried in his soul weighted in his eyes and showed in how much he didn’t care about himself. He didn’t even know Nero existed until he saw him for the first time.

How could any of them care for Nero when all of them were lost in the first place?

“Kyrie’s gonna be so happy being able to help other people…” Nero finally sighed and murmured to himself, closing his eyes as if to remind himself why you both left for a job on your own in the first place. “She can handle herself. Y/n can protect them if they need it. I don’t need to stalk ‘em like a vulture all the time.”

“That’s the spirit, kid.” Dante smiled, resting his heavy boots on his desk once again. “They’ll be back soon and we’ll even have time for a lil’ Halloween party.”

“Hmmm. I refuse to wear those ridiculous clothes.” Vergil left his book on the couch, getting up to warm some water. The day was coming to an end and they could use some tea – specially Nero.

“Ooooh, c’mon, Verge! It’s the twins from The Shining! We have to make that happen someday!” Dante looked so offended Nero couldn’t help himself but to smile – even if a little bit. “It’s perfect!”

“You would never find a dress that fits you.” Vergil’s answer was but a murmur, but all of them could hear it very well.

“Ya know…” Nero sighed, finally giving in his family antics. They would never be much normal… And it made no sense for Nero to cry over the suffering Mundus had doomed all his family to just because his grandfather decided to stand by the side of the ones that needed him. In the end, Sparda did the right thing and his blood was paying for it – could Nero really be mad at him about it…? “Vergil would make a great Wednesday Addams.”

Both men stared at him: Vergil with only frozen death in his silvery eyes, dark aura already starting to loom around him, while Dante had the brightest stars in his sky-blue stare, mouth slightly open.

“You’re a genius, kid.”

Chaos would’ve ensued if Trish and Lady hadn’t opened the doors of the Devil May Cry at that very same moment.

“Hey, what’s up, babes? Nero’s got the best idea for Halloween this year…!”

“Well, those ideas will have to wait. We got a bit of a… Problem.” And something was wrong in Trish’s voice: she usually carried that nonchalant, devilish honey tone in every word she said, always with a ghost of a smile on her perfectly crafted reddish lips – but not this time. Her lilac blue eyes were fidgeting, a tinge of distraught in her voice. Dante immediately furrowed his brows and took his feet of the desk.

“Y/n and Kyrie need our help.” Lady announced with a nervous tremble in her tone, closing the heavy door behind her.

The Devil May Cry fell in silence – the eyes of the blood of Sparda locked on Lady and Trish. They had now their undivided attention.

**

“I’m really impressed we’re not finding any of them stalking us at the corner of our eyes every now and then.” You had your arms crossed, leaning to a building while Kyrie stabilized a man who was caught by a demon earlier – his family waiting anxiously around you, ready to run to safety while you both only promised to go deeper and deeper into the root of all the problem. “I thought they’d be looming around us like vultures.”

“Oh, Nero is probably worried sick.” Kyrie answered in a giggle, carefully wrapping the man’s arm with a clean set of bandages she packed before leaving with you. “But I think they trust us enough to do our job.”

“Hmmm. Nevertheless, I lost the bet.” You smiled in return, slightly sighing. “Guess you got me for an entire day to help you at the orphanage when we’re back.”

“Any help is always welcome.” She was quickly done, smiling at you while the family approached to carry the man to safety. “Go straight to a hospital. We’ll keep on working on this.”

“Thank you! May the gods bless you!”

As the family ran out of the building with the injured man, Kyrie couldn’t help but smile. For years she had unwavering faith in the Order of the Sword, and she thought after all that happened in Fortuna – specially regarding Credo – she would turn bitter towards all religion. But it had the opposite effect: it only made her happier when people blessed her with their faith, knowing it was one of the best things they could offer as a thankful gesture.

Her church might have been destroyed, her beliefs turned to dust – but her faith in something good would never be broken.

“Ok, my dear Cleric, onwards we go.” You got your sword back in your hands, pointing the way so Kyrie could get ready. “It’s quite impressive that a few demons were able to make such a mess in so little time actually. If they hadn’t evacuated the factory as soon as the first bodies appeared, we would probably be here with the whole crew.”

“Hmmm… It’s very interesting really…” Kyrie furrowed her brows, reloading the Blue Rose. Nero wanted her to use it on that hunt – as if having a piece of him with her could ward away any evil. He was always very bitter and rebellious towards any faith, but Kyrie always smiled whenever she saw the little superstitions Nero carried with him. “You said we’re dealing with three demons, right?”

“Could be more.”

“Oh, I believe it’s three. If I’m a Cleric, then you’re a Ranger. And a very good one.” Kyrie let out a quiet laugh alongside yours. “Three demons attacking a factory in town at random, causing so many deaths and such mayhem in less than an hour… It’s really… Hmmm…”

“Weird…?” You tried and she agreed, even if both of you didn’t really agree that was the right word to describe it. Since you first stepped inside that old building, it seemed something wasn’t right – but neither of you could quite point out what it was. “Yeah, I have to agree with you… If it was just a bunch of bloodthirsty demons, they would be spreading out to the city already and there would be so much more than just three.”

“And if there were more, the body count would be higher.” Her answer was somber: Kyrie never enjoyed thinking about human casualties, and that’s why her job was always to heal and help the injured. “So…”

“What gives?” You complimented her phrase, making Kyrie agree with her head – slowly, still thinking about it. “Also, we have many hunters in our party. Dante is one hell of a tracker as well, even if he tries to pretend he’s always winging it.”

“Oh, but Dante would definitely be a hunter Bard.” She laughed in response, making you snort right after. You could see that. Dante was a depressed Bard, hunting demons and going into fire fueled demon rage, but a Bard nonetheless. “And Vergil would be our very own Necromancer.”

“Scaring everyone who came in contact with us, be with his eyes or the spirit of the dead.” You answered as if you were narrating an advertisement of Necromancers on the TV – Kyrie giggled more than she thought she would. “It’s very fitting though. And Nero���”

You both exchanged looks, as if you could read each other’s minds – already laughing upon knowing what the answer would be.

“Rebel Paladin.” As you said in unison, your laughs echoed slightly through the factory. Imagining what each one of you would be in a Dungeons and Dragons game was something you and Kyrie would discuss quite often since you found out she was interested in it, but never really had the chance to play it. You wanted to start a campaign together, but whenever she had time, you were out on a hunt, and whenever you had time, she was busy with the orphanage.

Suddenly, you raised your hand so your laughs would come to a halt. Kyrie paid attention to your surroundings, only to hear what it seemed to be distorted voices coming from the patio outside the factory. Taking one of your fingers to your lips, you signaled her to be silent as you slowly walked towards the noise.

Reaching one of the big windows inside the building, you had a good view of the patio. Three humanoid demons – but still a lot taller than normal people, with leathery skin, distorted proportions, horned heads and sharp teeth – licked the blood from their fingers, tossing dismembered human bodies in the distance. You and Kyrie remained silent, crouching by the window, only the very top of your heads visible: enough so you could see what was going on.

“Master will probably have to wait for another Samhain.” One of them scoffed the words, voice drenching in disdain.

“We have our orders. They will show up.” The tallest demon, a little different and more menacing, had only anger in his tone. That discussion probably had been going for some time. “And when they do, our job is over.”

“Perhaps we didn’t kill enough…” The third demon had a wide smile on its hundred rows of sharp teeth. “Perhaps if we spill more blood, they will be here quicker.”

“You fool.” The leader of the group almost growled in response. “Humans aren’t summoned by spells and blood like us. They are weak little creatures that take forever to do at least one thing.”

“Then why Master needs them so much?! Two even!” The first demon rolled its eerily white eyes, clearly bored with the waiting stage of their mission. “They are meek things, the only thing they are good for is food.”

“Because those are different.” The leader now let a roar tear trough its words. “And they are exactly what Master needs for the ritual. No more, no less.”

“If Mundus wasn’t so stupid, he would have succeeded in it.” The second demon scoffed once again, shaking its head. You and Kyrie exchanged quick looks. “But he always wanted to bite more than he could chew.”

“He thought he could bend the rules.” The leader crossed its deformed arms, spiky skin scratching against each other. “No one can. Not even the strongest of us. He ignored the rituals that could’ve made him stronger before trying to subdue all into his rule.”

“He underestimated the blood of Sparda. That was the reason for his demise.” You walked into the patio, silver sword bright in your hand. You had heard enough – and maybe Dante or probably Vergil would know what kind of Samhain ritual they were talking about. It was time to send them back to Hell; Kyrie could watch it safely from inside the factory.

“Oh… A hunter.” The leader smiled devilishly, receiving an approving look from the other two. That already made your heart a little suspicious: it wasn’t a normal reaction. “And a Sparda defender, nonetheless.”

“I defend the ones who carry his legacy. Your power could never get even close to what they carry.” You raised your head with pride, a ghost of a smile coloring your lips. “And neither did Mundus.”

“My, my, so you know the blood of Sparda…?” The third demon approached with its hundred rows of sharp fangs dripping blood, ready to attack. You tried not to react to its phrase, even if you wanted to furrow your brows in confusion. Why did that matter…? “It’s true, then? That they fell for human whores like that filthy traitor before them?”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind you talking about me like that…” You sighed, crossing your arms, trying to retain a little control over the conversation – even if something inside you screamed the odds were not in your favor. “But no one refers to my Cleric with such dirty words.”

She didn’t want to, but Kyrie had to muffle a little giggle. She would always be impressed how all of you hunters – including Lady and Trish, not only Nero’s family and you – could banter and give demons smart answers, seemingly fearlessly.

“You have someone else with you, then…? A non-hunter…?” The first demon approached slowly, spreading its claws in the same rhythm as its steps.

That was almost like a red light appearing inside your mind. They didn’t know. They saw you – and only you – but they didn’t know about Kyrie. And now, it seemed like they were even more interested on the fact you were there together.

Two humans for their Master. They could have taken anyone in that factory, but they were waiting. At first, you and Kyrie thought they were waiting for anyone in the crew outside Trish, but now… You had your doubts. Many doubts.

Without words, you plunged in a surprise attack that managed to cut the side of the third demon’s mouth, making it even wider while it screeched in pain. That was enough to put an end to that conversation – and, as soon as you could, you would turn around to Kyrie and signal her to run.

As she watched you from inside the building, Kyrie tried to think what to do. She knew you were more than capable of killing those three demons in a moderately quick fight, but that conversation was enough to spark restlessness in her heart.

And before she could do anything and you could tell her to go, Kyrie felt a leathery clawed hand tightly covering her mouth, squeezing her soft skin until it hurt.

“Don’t even try to run, or we will gut you and your friend right here, right now.”

Her hazelnut eyes turned to the patio in despair, trying to find yours while you viciously fought to slay all those demons.

As soon as you saw her being carried towards the patio by another menacing demon, you immediately did what they commanded you to do: stop resisting and drop your weapons or else they would drop Kyrie’s blood.

She closed her eyes in regret as she heard the metallic sound of your silver sword hitting the floor.

**

“When the people in town told us they were there, we figured to drop by and say hello.” Lady had her hands resting on her waist, standing in front of the shop’s desk while the Spardas surrounded her and Trish. “Our job was fast and easy, and it would be nice seeing how Kyrie was holding up… But when we got to the factory, we knew something was wrong.”

“What happened?! Just say it already!” And if Nero was a pile of nerves before, now he was beyond any logic.

“I got up on the roofs, Lady crossed the factory inside. There was nothing.” Trish took over, crossing her arms and having her slim eyebrows furrowed in worry. “I got to the patio where I was hearing some voices. There were four demons: one was a leader of three lesser demons, but they weren’t doing anything. I saw Lady hiding inside the factory and watching things from the windows, but everything was… Weirdly calm.”

“Kyrie and y/n were being held hostages. Kyrie tried to fight and let go, but y/n… Nothing.” Lady noticed how Dante and Vergil immediately frowned upon hearing that. It wasn’t like you to be allowed to be taken by demons without a fight. “Their weapons were on the floor. One of them said if y/n even tried to move, they would cut Kyrie’s throat.”

“Fuck…! I knew I should’ve gone with them!” Nero almost threw his arms up in exasperation, starting to roam around the room once again. This was killing him. He wanted to give Kyrie all the space she needed, but after Fortuna… He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. “What about y/n?!”

“That’s why they didn’t move.” Trish’s cold lilac blue eyes immediately turned to Nero. “Head held high as always, but not a single move.”

“And then? Did ya try to do somethin’?” Dante was on the brink on understanding Nero on a soul level – he himself was almost getting up from his big chair to prance around the room and blow off some steam.

“We tried…” Lady’s voice carried a regret he only heard when they were teens and met for the first time, so many years ago. Back then, she had a lot more bitterness rather than pure rage. “We tried to signal some things and plan something, but…”

“Hell Generals.” Trish cut Lady’s words, making Vergil immediately stiffen up, frozen eyes staring her with a sharp edge. “Two Hell Generals. I don’t know how, but they managed to get to the human world. One of them was their ‘master’ while the other must have had some sort of deal with the first.

“Which Generals…?”

“You think you know them?” Lady had to admit she was a little shocked. Trish was usually the encyclopedia of famous demons in Hell, given the fact she was literally born there. She knew the Generals, but not all of them.

“I spent enough time in Hell to know most of its worst.” And to say his eyes could cut was an understatement. “Everyone wanted the chance to torture the son of the 'filthy traitor Sparda'.”

The Devil May Cry fell in silence for a couple of seconds. Everyone knew Vergil hadn’t had it easy during his time in Hell, but he rarely talked about it – and when he did, it was usually followed by chills down their spines.

“Erlach and Orcus.” Trish finally raised her voice among that silence, making Vergil close his eyes. “Erlach was the lesser demons’ master, Orcus was the one who had an arrangement with him.”

“Indeed… Two of the worst.” Vergil opened his eyes once more, carrying even more rage than before.

“And what did they want?” Dante shook his head, sighing quickly. He thought they would be able to have a peaceful Halloween. “They were holdin’ them, so they must’ve wanted somethin’.”

“Yes, they talked about a ritual. The ‘Samhain ritual’ as far as I could hear, but I have no idea what that is.” Lady turned her bicolored eyes to Trish – after all, she must’ve known what they meant by that.

“The Samhain ritual is written in books in Hell but no one knows if it really is true. No demon ever tried it, apart from the ones of legend.” The demon rested her hands on her waist, sighing right after. “It’s a ritual to gain power, said to elevate a demon’s status. If it was made by a General, they would easily rise to Mundus’ status.”

“Ok, so not good at all, that’s what you mean.” Nero placed his hands on Dante’s desk, leaning on it and finally stopping his roaming around. “Why do they need Kyrie and y/n? Their blood? Their souls? Why didn’t you interrupt them?!”

“Well, when I heard what they said before completely disappearing I took some time to make sure I wasn’t hearing things, kid!” Lady now looked as furious as Nero, trying to get him to respect her again as he always did. “I thought I heard it wrong and then they were gone! It happened too fast!”

“What did they say?!” The three Spardas talked at the very same time; different voice tones, but indeed, a family.

“To get the wedding ready.”

Trish’s words fell among them like a ton of bricks. Nero had disgust and confusion written all over his face, seemingly trying to make sense of it – just like Lady when she heard it for the first time, making sure they didn’t get it wrong. Dante had his eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly open, but eyes filled with rage and shock. Vergil looked like he had swallowed an entire book and it was now stuck in his throat, unable to go up or down, while his face tried to maintain some dignity.

Until the three managed to blurt out the exact same phrase.

“What the fuck?!”

That was going to be one hell of a Halloween.

To Be Continued....

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Image ID: Two glitter texts, reading as "NIGHTMARE FACTORY – DEVLOG 0". End image ID.

Hi, I'm Garça Visconde Mirigis, and I'm VERY happy to announce that this post you're reading is the first devlog ever for my nightmare game, a 3D platformer parody of mascot horror genre! And yes, nightmare, not dream game, because making my actual dream game is way out of my current abilities at the moment!

Ever thought to yourself how different a horror game would be if our protagonist decided to help the monsters instead of... [reading a list off-screen] killing, imprisioning, sacrificing, exorcizing or even banning them to other dimensions? Because I have, for ungodly amounts of time, and after literally years I decided that the time to actually make this thing has come. Welcome to the NIGHTMARE FACTORY!

OKAY BUT WHAT IS THE SYNOPSIS?

As previously mentioned, NIGHTMARE FACTORY is a parody of mascot horror games, set in an abandoned toy factory that also used to host a theme park. You play as Vera Torres, a 57 year-old mechanic who used to work in there. One day, our dear Vera receives a call from an old coworker: The higher-ups are going to sell the factory and the theme park, but they need a good inspection, and no one is accepting the offer! Feeling a bit nostalgic and wanting to help her friend, Vera decided to help take a look inside...

... Only to discover the place is now filled with strange monsters whose leader has, somehow, decided that she's actually his mother?! But she only had one kid ever in her life...?

Yeah, Vera is CONFUSED, and it's now your duty as the player to help her figure out just what the heck is going on!

... AND WHAT THE HECK IS THE GAME ACTUALLY ABOUT?

The game is a lighthearted and pink look at mascot horror as a whole, featuring little references to other games and lots and lots of silly jokes. It is also a long love letter for the genre, because as much as I like poking fun at FNaF, it did change my life for the better and it will forever have a soft spot in my heart. I love the franchise despite it all, and making a whole game just to poke fun at it and other similar games feels stupid. No one can create a good parody if they don't love the thing they're parodying even a tiny little bit.

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is not an "aha look at how stupid this is" look at mascot horror. I want it to be as sincere as possible, and the end product needs to be honest and not ironic in the slightest in order for it to be a success.

HOWEEEVEEEER. Despite the silliness, NIGHTMARE FACTORY can and will feature grapphic imagery and disturbing content due to its nature as a horror title. Trigger and content warnings have not been currently set, but shall be added as development continues.

WHAT ARE THE ~ INSPIRATIONS ~ ?

HEHEHE. HAHAHHAA. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. MY FAVORITE PART!

The gameplay is inspired by the original Crash Bandicoot trilogy, Pac-Man World 1-2 and Rayman 2! These are my favorite platformers ever and I played them for hours as a kid, and since NIGHTMARE FACTORY is all about toys and childhood I figured it would be the perfect fit!

For themes and story, NIGHTMARE FACTORY is inspired by Five Nights at Freddy's, Bendy and the Ink Machine/Bendy and the Dark Revival, Tattletail, Poppy Playtime, Silent Hill 1-4, Welcome Home, My Friendly Neighborhood and the Lacey series on YouTube! Some of the themes include loss of childhood, the horrors of motherhood and girlhood, corporate corruption, trauma recovery, grief and rage.

For visuals, however? Alice: Madness Returns, Hello Kitty Roller Rescue, Strawberry Shortcake: The Sweet Dreams Game, Disney Princess' Enchanted Journey and old dress-up flash games are my references!

THE SETTING

The game is set in 2020s São Paulo, Brazil, AKA where I live, and it can and will feature elements of brazilian culture. The final version should have both english and brazilian-portuguese translations, with cultural notes being featured to help non-brazilians understand some jokes and themes better.

CURRENT SITUATION

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is currently sitting at "the single gamedev is desperate to start programming but he's busy with uni work" stage of production, but do not worry, the single gamedev is also working on the story, how level progression shall go, how the game should feel to play, and, of course, planning the mechanics, AKA the most important part of a fun game. I'll make an entire devlog detailing every single main mechanic as soon as I'm able to finally start fully working on this!

NIGHTMARE FACTORY is being made with Godot, Blender and Krita, and it will be released first for PC.

NOW A LOOK AT HOW THE SINGLE GAMEDEV IS ALREADY ANXIOUS ABOUT MAKING THE GAME

It wouldn't be a project I made without me losing my mind about it from day 0!

Nightmare Factory is a 3D platformer game, with around ~30 levels planned, divided into 5 acts/chapters/arcs/sessions. You can think as these sets of levels as Crash Bandicoot's Warped level selection, like this!

After answering some asks relating to mascot horror as a genre, I remembered a conversation I had with my amazing partner some weeks ago about how I want to release NIGHTMARE FACTORY. YES, I didn't even start programming it, but this is the type of thing I need to settle on before I build a good chunk of the game. It will be important!

But then. There's the problem: I don't like it when games are "released" but you have to pay more to get all of them. Yeah, each chapter would be super cheap so they would have a full game price when combined, but also. Do I want to do this. Do I genuinely want to do this. Like? Am I sure this is the right way to do it?????

Image ID: Screenshot of Crash Warped for the PS1, with Crash standing in front of a warp room with 5 blue buttons on the floor, each marked with a number from 1 to 5. The 6th button has the face of Tiny Tiger, signaling it to be the entrance to a boss fight level. End image id.

My first plan was to release each act separately so I could both get feedback and also have more fun, because by getting feedback I would be way less worried about messing things up + I could update things like character physics to be less wonky or more stiff in case it was a common complaint, which could change the entire level design. And also because I'm a clown and I want to make a mascot horror parody, and releasing it in chapters aligns perfectly with how I want this to go.

Anyways, this has now lead to me deciding that the game should be a "pay for it once" type of thing. I'll still release it in chapters, but the updates will be for free. Will I regret this decision because liking it or not I need money + I am an indie dev + there's nothing wrong with game devs expecting to be, y'know, PAID for their work? Absolutely so!!!!! But I think that, for now, this will be how I develop this silly game.

Anyways, this is getting long enough, so I'll finish it for now. Character introductions will be made after the gameplay-focused devlog, so see you guys soon enough! Byeeee <3

[some-beans]

If you do requests, can I request headcanons for some of the Pro Heroes (you can choose) reacting to seeing their pro hero s/o kill a villain? Like they probably either saw it on tv or saw it in-person. Think of something like that one part of DC’s Injustice.

oooo I like this hehe sorry if it took a while, again the horrors due personal issues, i only did three pro heroes, sorry :((

✎...pairing: pro heroes x pro hero!reader who kills a villain ✎...themes: blood, murder, gore, morals being tested ✎...notes: reader's quirk is strength-related,reader is morally grey, can you tell which characters are easier to write, reader is gn with they/them in mind ✎...enjoy !!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

he saw this happen in person

granted, he was in his small form, so no one besides a very few select amount of people knew this

you were included in that select few

which made the scene so much worse

initially, you managed to track this villain who's been trying to fuck with your family into a dark alleyway with no cameras to deal with him

he was snacky and didn't believe you had the guts to kill him, thinking you were just going to arrest him

but he was wrong

so wrong

next thing he knows, your fist has gone straight through his solar plexus and he's coughing up blood

in your dazed and rage-driven state, you snapped your head to a noise, only to have your eyes widen at the sight of all might

all might, in all his years of fighting villains and protecting the people from those who are dangerous, he never felt so conflicted

his s/o ー a worthy pro hero ー had just killed someone

. . . he never knew someone so sweet could be so cold

𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃

he saw it live broadcasted

with his students and in the dorms, no less

you were in a massive fight ー similar to how endeavour's one was with the flying nomu ー when it happened

he could see from how the fight was going

you were getting stressed, agitated, frustrated. . . rageful

he also knew that when you got like this, you tended to use less than morally correct ways to deal with villains

and this one took the cake

anyone who was watching the fight recoiled in shock

you had gotten fed up with this stupid fucking villain's bullshit and saw red

i mean, how else would you explain the massive hole in their stomach that you created

aizawa could feel the stares of his students, but all he could focus on was the satisfied girn you wore

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

it happened on a mission you two were assigned

something about taking out an inside spy from the hero public safety commission

he didn't bat an eye when you easily killed the guy

quickly punching him in the chest and taking his heart out

. . . that part kinda spooked him

especially, when you just blankly stared at it

sure, you both had gone through shit ー which was the primary factor on why you two dated ー but he never thought you'd be so unresponsive to it

considering you're holding a heart in your callused hands

the same hands the leave feather light touches on his skin

[onlyjaeyun]

i see the bra strap idea has made it into the chappy 👀 hoon silently freaking out in the inside forsho, jake checking on yn while silently cursing hoon in his brain, AND IT WAS JAKE! I KNEW IT! jake definitely gave hoon a nice bonk on the head later :3 also I saw hoon go very silent when they talked about staying over

hoon in his lil brain : i finally get to fuck in peace 🙄 good pussy in peace

jake being on guard duty so no one gets between hoon and yn <3 he's just happy for his friends to be fucking people he approves of

I HATE THAT FUCKING MOM- THE AMOUNT OF RAGE I FEEL?!? LIKE WHY DOES SHE HATE YN THAT MUCH?!? YNS A SWEETHEART TO NIKI AND SHE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE BEEN SWEET TO YUKI AND KENTA TOO IF THIS BITCH HADNT INTERFERED! NIKI IS DEFINITELY SNITCHING TO HOON AND HOONS GONNA GO BAT SHIT CRAZY AGAIN (pun intended) won't be surprised if hoon takes a quick solo trip to Japan during the girls trip and who knows, a certain sperm donor might be found in a ditch with multiple broken limbs with no witnesses and he doesn't remember shit about who did what to him 🤭❤️ guessing the falling out is gonna happen before or during the girls trip or them realising that there was a miscommunication so hoon is absolutely all emotional and feeling nothing but pure rage and AHHH I LOVE <3

kinda miss fuma being around to fuel hoon's jealousy 💔 he's such a fine man, I need him to rearrange my guts 😫

also hiii zadie!! im visiting home and I've just been super duper busyy 💔 the sun here is so nicee but it's so hot I feel like I'm gonna evaporate if I go out in the sun- but I've been eating good food and studying for my exams so hehe how's you been pretty girl? - 💫

HELLO BABY!!!!🩷🩷🩷 im so so glad youre enjoying your time at home, i hope youre also resting!!!🤥 thank you so much for your amazing hcs and suggestions and ideas i was so, so excited to use this one i lit thought about it ever since you sent it to me 😭

ive been doing well, just spending time with family and friends and work ofc!!!!

unfortunately hoonyn will actually......notgetofuckinpeace 🤕 since they will go no contact after the next chapter 😀😀

i love how you guys are so mad at the stepmom and i know its gonna get worse in the following chaps so im just ready atp 😝

also, bc ive noticed a lot of you guys have said similar things (regarding the nishimuras) they actually live in seoul too so hoonie wouldnt even have to gosll the way to japan to yk..be ch!hoon 😝😝😝

to give you guys a little overview of the upcoming written chap: the realisation of the miscommunication and second fallout will all happen in that chapter if that makes sense...the reason will be revealed to everyone and thats when hoonyn will have their "fuck." moments bc theyre gonna realise their lives were basically based on a huge game of intentional miscommunication 🫣

that's all im gonna say!!!

[lyman-garfiel]

🗯️ for the ask game, tell me the loooooreeeeee

🗯️; Gush about ship lore, f/o lore, or s/i lore! Don't hold back!! SCREAMS,

So I'm going to try to focus on Scaraman here as Jewel is being WORKSHOPPED TO HELL AND BACK and it's hard to pin down Lyman's mortal life when such a crucial character is in the works. So Lyman works a mind numbing tavern job after becoming a cosmic entity [how this happens ,,,uh workshopping that something something atomic bomb], Lyman is just a bottle of repressed rage at this point as he hates dealing with people and being the therapist for everyone is not a job he is suited for yet it's what he was given. Flash forward to him actually meeting scarab as an entity scarab was tasked with containing was inside lyman’s tavern, With lyman being the owner of this place he was questioned by scarab immediately, [lyme didn’t know shit like…at all] The lizard was compliant with scarab, eventually tracking the entity down. Lyman was crushing HARD after this encounter, he usually hated pretty much everyone he interacts with yet the insectoid caught his eye in a way that pulls at his hazy mortal memories, he asks or well…it came off more like begging for Scarab to come by again if…if he wanted  a thank you for ridding his tavern of such a nuisance. Scarab finds the lizard odd yet he’d never been thanked for his work before and found it flattering, weeks would pass of Lyman waiting around and second guessing himself, Scarab had not left his head at all, it made him sick to his stomach to think something else could have a grip on him like…..well ,,,,he doesn’t really want to dwell. Yet Scarab had been having an……awful day, being given a small amount of free time he decided to finally take the strange tavern lizard up on his offer. It was late, Lyman wringing a dirty rag having just finished the grueling task of washing all the glasses, when a loud and curt knock was at his door, He let scarab in, panicking at the meaning behind the visit and not  knowing how to properly present himself to the man who’s been owning his brain for weeks on end despite only speaking for a few minutes. Scarab asked for a drink in a tired voice, it was interesting to the lizard. He’d pictured the insectoid as a strong distant being of which nothing could phase yet he could hear the hints of weakness in his voice. The mask the being wore did not help as it blocked his ability to read people. Lyman served the auditor up his drink [despite having just cleaned up. This should upset him. If it was any other entity this WOULD have upset him to no end. Good job lizard you’re throwing all your sensibilities away just for mister tall red and spiky over there.] Yet Scarab looked so..tired, he sat there in his “i am listening” position taking up as little space as possible yet still being a presence, the silence was deafening, just them sitting there not speaking much to each other while Scarab quietly sipped on his drink. Lyman digging his claws into his arm and hoping not to puncture the fabric on his nice button down, The lizard would swallow the tension building up in his throat to ask a simple “..rough day huh?” causing scarab to let out an exasperated sigh and begin on a long winded rant about his boss, his coworkers, and feeling underappreciated. Lyman listened intently, nodding along and inserting his own criticisms of the workers whom he had met.

The rant became a lot more lighthearted, Scarab surprised another entity could hold similar viewpoints to him, whom didn’t just tell him to calm down, Lyman feeling safe enough in the conversation to now crack a couple jokes he’d been saving in his head for years now just for himself to chuckle at. They both had an enjoyable time being awful to those around them in private. It meant a lot to Lyman to be able to get Scarab to laugh a little, the insectoid’s visits become a lot more frequent, very slowly becoming a relationship. The events of fnc happen after this around the time scarab and lyman consider each other to be in an established relationship. [this is where it gets rough..also i just hit th bong i’m becoming incoherent and haven’t really polished this]  but after receiving the ping to investigate the time room scarab makes a beeline to lyman’s [pretty much to gloat about the fact the guy they dislike did something illegal heehoo =)] and lyman not..having anything better to do gets dragged along because scarab’s excited about something and he wants to be there..uhh Lyman shapeshifts into a horse while they’re in farmworld..thats  a thing that happens, anyways lyman begins to have a mental breakdown throughout all of it due to scarab’s absolute tunnel vision on capturing the crossovers …..the girls be fighting. Prismo is forced to play marriage counselor. Uhh lyman almost kills somebody,,,,,,,,he gets the auditor promotion. SORRY IT GOT ROUGH I’M STILL WORKING OUT A LOT OF SHIT UHHJJ SMILES =)

[remedyxtragedy]

IDIOSYNCRATIC CHARACTER PT 2

Now, onto the main group of Idiosyncratic. As I said in the last post, I'm just going to provide a basic description of these characters and later on when I've fully revised their sheets, I'll post them here so you all can get the full picture. (Also brace yourself this is probably going to end up being long as all hell. AND IN ADDITION, Imma have to make a third post since this is extremely long and I think it's making tumblr have a brain fart) 

Calixte Stanhope (Main Character) --

Calixte is thought of as a very mysterious, no-nonsense and reticent fellow by nearly every actor who crosses his path and yet at the same time he radiates a very strong aura of confidence and certainty. No matter how badly people want to peel back his facade and dissect his mind, all they can really do is imagine whatever storms are raging inside him, every ounce of thought and emotion remaining well hidden behind the blank, impassive face of a man who's heart has already been calloused and shattered by woes unspoken. Less words wasted on people he deems underserving of his knowledge, who he really is, or why he chooses to work in secrecy when he clearly knows things that can benefit the majority, means way more time to just sit, observe, and ponder--which has become such a habit of his, staring endlessly into the abyss thinking about only God knows what, that he's been properly nicknamed, 'daydreamer'. The kind of deep thinking and conspiring Calixte has been seen engrossing himself in has long since drifted into obsoletion for a lot of people, a few days in Baltimore and most actors reach the understanding that no amount of hankering, dreaming, plotting, or praying will deliver you from your reality--the young man's frequent daydreaming would therefore suggest that there's a lot in his head, apparently, still worth pondering about even after all he's seen and endured, which has led many to grow very skeptical of his claims of being 'an open book'. The young man upon his arrival would be quick to make it known to his fellow actors and every resident of Baltimore who only viewed him as another guinea pig to poke around for their twisted enjoyment that he has only two goals in mind--to reunite with the woman he was ripped away from by an unforgiving train and to wear the blood of the person responsible for their abrupt parting,--and he will not take kindly to anyone or anything that gets in his way. He's also made it abundantly clear that his quixotic willingness to prevail by any means necessary is grounded not in fear of Whitman's hegemony or an intrinsic impulsion to survive, but rather an intense thirst for vengeance that feels almost embedded in the very marrow of his being. This sentiment is what beckons him to reach the finish line, that great castle in the sky, and thensome. While the future is clearly dreary and grim for most of the sad irrelevant souls who clutter the world around him, in his mind his future in already nestled in the palm of his hands and the second he gets opportunity to do so, he will shape it to his liking and manifest the happily ever after he's always deserved. It's just a matter of, how long it'll take, who he'll have to kill, and who he'll have to begrudgingly befriend before can fulfill the burden that was rested upon him as the Calixte Stanhope Class (at beginning): Unremarkable (all new actors start out as unremarkables) Things he always keeps on his person: A journal which he writes entries in on a regular basis, a somewhat old fashioned polaroid camera, and some medication for an unclarified heart condition of his

Sonia Eastaughffe --

She's a very eccentric and boisterous young lady who throughout her few years in Baltimore become a very warm and familiar face a lot of actors look forward to seeing. She's a bit of a similar case to Calixte not only in the sense that she's very secretive about who she is, but also that there's not much known about her except for the obvious which is that she's significantly younger than most actors and demonstrates an unusual indifference towards everything around her. She completes her daily deeds without complaint, does a few extra just for the hell of it, and has performed well enough to be able to afford her own home and start her own business, a humble little beauty boutique/inn where all actors are welcome. It's extremely strange how she's managed to make a good living for herself within such an unbelievably small amount of time while it takes some actors over twenty years to get where they are, which may not even equate to how much work they've done. In that regard, Sonia truly is a complete and utter anomaly. Some even say that she's a particular favorite of the big mayor himself who's gone onto publicly praise her and coin her as an 'exemplary little popsy' numerous times, which also might be confirming that behind that pretty, innocent face is one of the many absolutely deranged partisans of Whitman. It's an uncomfortable thing to think about considering how many people she's welcomed into her shop with that same old delightful smile and innocence that's become so synonymous with her, but it could explain her noticeable unwillingness to speak down on Whitman even she's in aperfectly safe environment to do so. Some continue to speculate that she's actually related to him in some way even though there's no such evidence to back that up since she poofed into Baltimore like every other actor, meanwhile others take a more plausible route suppose that right off the bat she must've just followed the sacred actor motto religiously and that's how she got where she is. Regardless, it's up to actors to decide whether or not she's a person worth trusting and emulating. It's probably worth mentioning that she seems to like Calixte quite a bit for how much he openly distrusts her, its a rarity she's grown to enjoy... Class (at the beginning): Splendor Things she always carries on her person: a very odd dagger, some perfume, and an assortment of little knives she hides all about her person

Quelq'un--

(Had a way better picture but tumblr was being difficult and wouldn't let me upload it so I had to make a quick doodle of bro) He's actually a very compassionate, calm, and patient man who will gladly help any actor who confides in him, sometimes even going out of his way to help those who don't even want anything to do with him which is evident in his many efforts to guide Calixite on the right path when he first woke up in Baltimore. And despite his willingness to help anyone, he mostly hovers around Calixte for some reason and shows a greater concern for him more than anybody, which is interesting, just like everything else about Quelq'un. No one has the slightest idea where he comes from, why he just popped up out of the blue when Calixte arrived in Baltimore, or why he seems to have a creepily deep understanding of everybody he interacts with--but if one things for certain, his mere existence has brought some closure to actors who've dreaded accepting that there is nothing beyond Baltimore and the town's neighboring trading partners, and that they're all alone in this absurd, cruel world. But then again, Quelq'un in many aspects is as far from a figure of hope gets, and probably only goes to show that beyond Baltimore there is a world far more complicated and horrific than anything the average human is capable of processing. His appearance is already peculiar enough but what has really led people to stay as far away from him so as to retain the little sanity and conviction they have left is his incomprehensible abilities, ones that simply do not abide by the laws of physics and nature. Any solace he once brought to people quickly morphed into deep repulsion and terror, especially at the thought of an entity like him not only existing on top of all the other paradoxes that threaten to warp their understandings of their metaphysical beings permanently, but also being able to just phase in and out of the world around them at will. Thinking about what Quelq'un's existence means for every actor who's ever wound up in Baltimore has made people go incoherently mad, to the point that not even Whitman wants anything to do with them and so they're 'dealt with'. However, as absolutely harrowing as that all is, Quelq'un is just a pretty chill and delightful guy--just don't try and pry into mysteries you're not ready for.. Class (at the beginning...): none; does not apply Things he always carries on his person: a seemingly infinite amount of instructional books he personally created to help Actors understand how things work in Baltimore and a very odd silicon staff that seems to be the source of his abilities

Deadpan -

Deadpan is a very straight-faced and stern individual who would describe herself as having no purpose without her knowledge. Not only is she in charge of a very respected ring of scientists who share very noble goals and frequently confer with other actors to discuss their findings, but she herself is just a tremendously respected woman primarily because of how openly and flagrantly she retaliates against Whitman and his perverse burlesque of human society. How does she get away with this? Well, it's simple--she isn't exactly in the same boat as the other actors. What I refrained from mentioning before in my other post is that there is another tier to the actor hierarchy, and that is the 'foreign residents' tier. They make up a measly 15% of the actor population which is actually about 150 individuals altogether (of course that number is occasionally fluctuating due to new additions, people dying, or just straight up disappearing but generally this is the statistic), so of those 150 are a total of about 23 persons who not only don't have to partake in abhorrent acts of violence in order to survive, but who can also preach whatever agenda they wish to without having to hold their tongue in public. Foreign residents are noted to be knowledgeable in fields that would conventionally be considered respectable, like science, medicine, politics, etc., and despite still missing very key fragments of their past, they harbor a deeper understanding of moral and ethics than other actors and can deduce for themselves why the world around them is absolutely, irrefutably absurd, wrong, and savage. Every single day, from when the sun rises and falls, she's cooped up in her makeshift lab jotting down entries of her discoveries and theories in various pamphlets that are distributed among actors who find her testimonies most reliable. When others remember so little of their past and what true civilness looks like that they're forced to accept this world as this new norm, Deadpan rebukes such thinking and dedicates her entire being to gathering evidence that can prove her all famous theory that Baltimore is without a doubt merely the shadow of a real civilization, where every law is reversed and deformed beyond recognition to fit unsavory ideals. How is this possible? How does that influence who ends uphere and who doesn't? If this really is their new reality, wouldn't that mean that her efforts are all in vain? Deadpan is adamant to not rest until she finds the answers to those questions. Class (all throughout the story): foreign resident Things she always carries on her person: a small glass jar of an absolutely atrocious smelling and volatile bright yellow substance with the consistency of mucus that is labaled as "yellow saliva" and no one knows why she keeps it on her person or where she even got it from

Chauncey --

Make no mistake, in spite of his appearance and ethereal aura, Chauncey is about as sweet and pleasant as a rose bush, a beautiful sight to marvel at from afar but upon closer inspection there seems to be a million things it can and will prick at you with. Beyond that smokescreen of a delicate and dashing man who's revered as a idol among Baltimore Citizens for his striking charm and pledged allegiance to the Baltimore way of life, is a powerful being, once filled with integrity and driven by selfless benevolence and wonder now rendered into a frantic and messy Don Quixote who's lost grip on the righteous principles that once defined him. He's a bit in denial about that though and will promptly correct and shutdown anyone who thinks his methods of 'restoring heavenly prosperity' are questionable. And indeed that is correct--Chauncey, even though he's been thrusted into the same predicament as everybody else around him under very weird circumstances, is not of the same world as the other actors. He's of one far more blissful and serene, one that revolved around the kind of order and goodness humans can only dream of emulating. Heaven. How in God's good name did he end up here? Why? Does he know anything that can possibly answer the many, many questions that has been haunting the mind's of every actor who still has hope for freedom from this dystopian hell? Those questions of course can easily be applied to almost any other actor, but obviously the situation is a little more urgent and horrifying when you realize that an angel too has been robbed of their memories and rendered no more powerful than the average human under Whitman's hegemony. All he claims to remember is being a humble and hard working guardian angel who was training to join the Empyrean army, and at some point his memories just sludge into an indecipherable blur. Some actors straight up just don't believe him and think his words are simply the final hurrahs of another sad soul who is teetering on the brink of insanity. It's a truly bizarre and cruel situation all around that has clearly taken its toll on Chauncey who is seemingly a complete Jekyll and Hyde now, Baltimore's most beloved laughingstock on stage and an idealistic agitator behind closed curtains. It's probably worth mentioning that despite all the charm and flamboyant flare he uses to get on the Whitizens' good side, he's still a Dog and has been for his last five years in Baltimore--a Dog who's in fact more famous for his antics of rebellion and revolution than how good he is at dancing, singing, and putting a show for the public's entertaining. The sad reality is, he's really only kept around because the Whitizens quite enjoy watching him humiliate himself in order to maintain some semblance of a good reputation, so much so they're willing to pay to see him humiliate himself or much worse cases, humiliate him themselves. No one really knows exactly what the latter suggests, but surely it's not anything too bad since Chauncey always seems to walk out the same impudent stardreamer everyone knows him as, with a couple extra Craz (Baltimore money) in his pockets to boot. People often assume he just holds onto his hard-earned money considering that, well, he doesn't need to eat, drink, or sleep, but that's not exactly the case; deep in the forests of Baltimore resides a very humble community of Dogs who despise Whitman through and through and as a result have been wounded, shunned, and discarded by society and left to rot in the outskirts. Chauncey, however, swept into their lives and took it upon himself to be their new leader--solemnly swearing to protect them and care for them, no matter what. And in return, all he asks, is that they follow instruction and allow him to shape them into the best versions of themselves... Class (in the beginning): Dog Things he carries on his person: A nail fail and a very peculiar crystal shaped totem he's often seen talking directly into as if something resides in there

Dixie Wixted--

With such striking beauty and a soft buttery country accent that has successfully lured many love-struck bachelors to her doorstep, Dixie Wixted for sure is one of the most familiar faces in Baltimore, especially in the illegal underbelly, and surprisingly for all the right reasons. She has a such an enticing wit and unique intelligence about her that serves to reassure that she's just the kind of knowledgeable and smart gal you want as a friend. Where most people panic and get flustered, Dixie sits back, indulges on a bottle of wine, and lights a cigarette to not letting this world see her crumble. It's such an admirable outlook many have adopted as inspiration to keep pushing onward, no matter how much the odds may seemed stacked against them--advice from her seems to resonate a lot better than from Deadpan who even doesn't have to endure what they do on a daily basis or Quelq'un who, although he means well, is an unsettling sight to behold and also doesn't have to regularly perform acts of violence just to afford a single meal. In such a way that could almost make Chauncey envious, Dixie has become a bit of an icon and in the same way Quelq'un wishes he could, she's helped people ease into this new reality of theirs. In all the absurdity and suffering that surrounds them, Dixie is about as close to normal and relatable as it gets--wanting to survive because that's all she can do. But that just begs the question, where does Dixie's laidback demeanor come from? Its very impressive, yes, but to a certain degree. There's a eventually point where admiration dissolves into confusion at how lethargic and overly blase she can get at times, even in more urgent matters that should alarm her. But it seems that she just cannot be bothered to exert herself anymore than she already does, even in the face of danger, in which case she'll just smooth-talk and slyly slip her way out of any messy confrontations. It's baffling just how jaw-droppingly lucky she must be to be able to successfully elude Baltimore policemen and even get some of the more dangerous actors to let her go scotch free whenever she flunks out on an arrangement, and this has happened countless times, without fail, all throughout her ten years of being an actor. Some people have assumed its just her sheer willpower and quick thinking that has gotten her through the toughest of situations any actor can be faced with, but others aren't so convinced. Surely if she was that concerned with her survival, she would make the effort to try and progress through the hierarchy rather than staying stagnant and only doing what's really just the bare minimum to scrape by. Its that realization that often triggers many of her admirers to spiral down a rabbithole of all the inconsistencies that exist in her persona, ending with the single question of--why are we looking up to this woman again? With how little Dixie speaks of her past (or whatever she can recall from it at least), her exact ambitions, or personal perspective on the anarchy that surrounds them, this question is likely to be left unanswered. That is, for people who yet to catch onto the fact that in Dixie's eyes survival is not excelling to the top and becoming another heartless zombie, survival is doing what she must, what is merely required of her, to live long enough to see a fulfilling end. And a fulfilling end, in her eyes, is not becoming another statistic in some madman's sick game--it's slipping away into an unremarkable, forgettable death. Maybe some time ago, her will to live was actually there and therefore people can understand why she's celebrated for her perseverance, but nowadays a peaceful death is all she craves. Her light at the end of the tunnel lies only in a silent demise, and so she unwinds and does nothing as she allows herself to fall back down to the bottom of the hierarchy and, eventually, hopefully, disappear.. Class (at the beginning of the story): Panjandrum Things she always carries on her person: at least three packs of cigarrettes, a switchblade, and a pocket mirror

[chidoroki]

182 Days of TPN - Day 93

Chapter 93: “The End”

Happy! The word you’re looking for is HAPPY! His life may have been cursed but these two made his life worth living which is so very important to a boy who wanted to end it all! Aaahh, they’re literally so damn special to him and I’ll never get over how deeply he loves and cares for them both.

I would never wanna experience the wide range of emotions Ray must be feeling during this moment. How hard his heart must’ve dropped the moment he saw his best friend get brutally stabbed, the way he became speechless as her seemingly lifeless body falls to the ground and all the panic he feels at the sight of all the blood.. the mere thought of being in a similar situation makes me feel sick and lightheaded.

Of course he’s absolutely seething with rage as well. Emma was one of the friends he swore to protect from the very beginning and to witness her now bleeding out as she lays motionless on the ground with some despicable demon lingering over her as it taunts the rest of the kids.. oh yeah, Ray’s far beyond pissed off. The amount of anger Ray expresses reminds me very much of that one panel back during ch65 and I love when he becomes unhinged whenever one half of his living emotional crutches is taken from him and/or hurt.

I think one of the reasons why this moment causes such anxiety between its characters and us readers is how the humans are plain and ordinary in this world (excluding those experimented on at Lambda). They have no special powers, magic, etc to fall back on which makes every injury permanent and real, so in the midst of battle where one fearsome enemy remains standing and no medical assistance is nearby, we’re lead to believe that Emma is truly in danger. Doesn’t matter that she’s the main protagonist either because she has indeed been seriously hurt in the past, with Isabella breaking her leg and our girl chopping off her own ear.

Teeny-tiny GP trio is precious to me. I wanna hug them.

The panels of Emma struggling to keep herself afloat as she slowly starts to sink causes “Diver” (Shippuden OP8) to play in my head every. single. time. I revisit this chapter. without fail. And I read this chapter back a lot.

Of course it’s very sweet that she thinks of Norman again during all this and I also love how Emma’s shown to be reaching outside the panel. Really puts in perspective how desperate she is to hold on.

No surprise here, but the moment when Isabella offers her assistance and encouragement is my favorite helping hand of the bunch. Since everything happening here is all inside Emma’s head, it proves that she still thinks of/cares for Isabella despite everything said woman has done in the past. What I really love about all this though is with Isabella being the final person that pulls Emma back into reality, it’s almost as if Emma’s first big enemy is helping her now defeat her current enemy and I think that’s neat. (thankfully this ain’t gonna be the last time momma helps out our girl either).

Sweetie, where exactly on your person where you hiding the pistol this entire time? And poor Nigel is still in tears, but they’re happy ones this time. Ray probably forgot how to breathe again though.

I love this duo so much.. he doesn’t even question how the hell she’s standing again and reads her mind perfectly to relay the plan she has to everyone else so they all can continue fighting and win.

In the previous chapter, Leuvis said that he wouldn’t fall for the same flash bomb trick twice, but I guess third time is the charm. He could’ve very well closed his eyes, though it would’ve left him open to the barrage of other bullets regardless, and with the flash bomb already detonated, he really didn’t have enough time to decide on another solution. Seems like Palvus has taken cover because he knows they’re already screwed.

Even though Leuvis starts to regenerate from the onslaught, we get Yuugo successfully avenging his family from many years ago with a critical hit to the poacher’s core. (well, one of them).

Favorite panel/moment:

To see a normal 11-year old girl stand back up after getting stabbed by one of the most intelligent and strongest demons in the series is such a thrilling and badass moment that completely captivates me every time I see it. There’s no power system for her to tap into and get some last minute boost like your typical shonens usually have and hell, not even some convenient medical attention helped get her back on her feet. She got up with pure fury, hostility and determination! Yeah yeah, plot-armor is a huge help here and she passes out shortly after this.. but regardless! Not only is this absolutely my favorite panel of Emma, but my favorite panel out of the entire story as well. This is very moment I truly fell in love with this girl and when she actually replaced Ray as my #1 character for quite some time. There’s so much I love about this moment for her and everything and aaahhh.. would’ve loved if the “63194” theme played here too.

[vveirdnobdy]

TCF Flame Types

I made The Trash of Counts Family x Katekyo Hitman reborn post, so now here are flame types (Feel free to debate cause I fucking love those and there could be a factor I'm not thinking of ya know)

Cale-Def has Sky flames like he hates it but he attracts people. But I would say he also has maybe a mixture of Lightning and Mist as well. Lighting cause the whole Lightning rod this, take damage so the great of the harmony can thrive. And Mist mostly cause I know for a fact He'd vibe with Viper, Mr. Scammer himself. (plus his constant urge to put himself in Denial, and the whole fact that in order to use the illusions factor of mist flames you have to believe it's true as well)

Raon- 100% Cloud flames but specifically Inverted Cloud Flames, It's one of the flame lore debates I love, but Inverted Clouds tend to claim people as their territory, and how if something happens to those people that's when they rage. And with Raon's tendency to sit by Cales bedside and count down the seconds until he destroys the world, I feel it matches a lot.

On-Mist Flames, the main reason is her fog, it gives me the whole 'hiding family from view idea. It just vibes with it. Plus she really takes after Cale's Analytical Side.

Hong- Storm Flames, I'm also kind of aligning it with his power of poison, since poison coincides with destruction aka the destruction of your insides. that's the main reason I'm not gonna lie. Though I will say Sun Flames is also a good fit.

Ron- Mist, Mr benign smile himself, I don't feel it needs to be elaborated on.

Beacrox- Cloud, He is a very aloof character, I'm mostly thinking about his sword art as well. (sorry it's not as detailed I have a lot of thoughts but I'm out here like how to phrase???) (I also think he could be a storm with the added angsty bonus of him and Ron matching with On and Hong)

Alberu- Sunny Sky- Mr Crown Prince has to be a sky in my professional opinion, it fits, Also the amount of amusement I get out of him being a sun is lovely. (I could also see him having lightning flames)

Choi Han- Cloud/Storm Choi Han also fits under the Inverted Cloud Scope, plus I can kind of compare his behavior towards Cale to that of Tsuna and Hayato. The whole 'they just act like puppies' thing. Plus Choi Han having the two most destructive flame types really hurts in the best way possible ya know?

Rosalyn- Mist/Rain Mist because it lines up with how she approaches her goals, and the constant reminder of how similar she and Cale are, really pushes it for me. Rain due to how she is a comforting figure for everyone really, At least a lot of the children find comfort from her and I like to kind of put it towards her Big Sister tendencies.

Eruhaben- Rain/Storm Rain because I'm not gonna lie it's the fact he's a parental figure for a Cale. give him a dad who he can just take comfort in please and thank you. Specifically an Inverted Storm due to the whole 'calm before the storm. Plus his attribute is Dust, he just is made for destruction.

Mary- Rain, She is 100% the most chill and most comforting out of all the characters. Plus the whole factor of Tranquility, and how there is Tranquility in Death.

Lock- Lightning, He is very proud to be learning the Shield to protect his family. His main motivation legit relies on Protecting, so lighting just fits.

That's all I'm doing, for now, feel free to debate or add more characters.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 27: Shelter. Shingen's POV from the river, the rain, and the cave.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

It had been too late even before they started terracing the hills and trying to divert the waters into overflow ponds. A project like this ought to have begun months, perhaps years before the flooding, not in the middle of a deluge. Shingen thought this might even be the biggest sin to lay at Nobunaga’s feet, for in diverting their attention to battle, needed projects such as this had been postponed, or ignored.

Even knowing that it was a futile effort, they were giving it everything they had to redirect some of the water before it reached the river. Sasuke, at least, instantly grasped what Shingen had in mind, and scurried from one post to another, giving practical suggestions without having to ask for further instructions.

But after working through the wet, miserable night, and into the next afternoon, with the rain continuing to fall, there was that feeling that… it wasn’t going to be enough. Homes would be lost. Lives maybe, too. The specter of failure pulled at him. Another project potentially left undone.

He shut his eyes to the raging waters, while the rain poured off his helmet and dripped down the back of his neck.

When he reopened them, she was standing in front of him, looking, as usual, like a drowned rat. Angel or devil, he didn’t even know any longer. But what was she – easier to just ask. “Why are you here?”

Katsu, because in those clothes, with that mirage of soldierly decorum, it was Katsu, and not duplicitous woman he had revealed himself to be, said, “Yukimura asked me to deliver a status report and a message.”

I don’t have time for this. “Well? What is it?”

Since Katsu seemed unusually reticent, Shingen glanced over his shoulder. “Sasuke! Tell them to bring more rocks to shore up that retaining wall!” Sasuke gave a salute to indicate message received and headed further up hill. Shingen turned his attention back to Katsu.

“Kenshin’s got the banks of the lowest point of the river built up about this high, and we’ve evacuated all of the towns up to the coast.” She drew an invisible line right about at her waist. That’s not going to be high enough. Time was running out, on this, on him.

But she was still talking. “Yukimura said … that you should return to the castle and have Sasuke take a shift.”

Had he? What had he told her? Was that why she was here? Because now she knew about his illness? He studied her face. No, there was no sympathy or knowledge in that expression. She was here because Yukimura told her to be here. Just following orders. For once. “Message delivered. Tell Yuki no.”

She continued to stand there, and again he wondered why she was still … well, with them at all. Once her masquerade had been revealed, she ought to have left. Yoshimoto had told him that he’d managed to prevent her – at least temporarily - from leaving on what would amount to a suicide mission to confront Yoshiaki. But even that didn’t explain why she had joined the teams outside. Though if she had been telling the truth about losing her home in a storm – and that was a big if – then he supposed she would feel strongly about helping those in a similar situation. “Anything else?”

“Um. N-no. It’s… j-just that Yukimura was pretty insistent that I make you leave, which, I know I have no way of doing, but I’ve never seen him look that worried about anything,” she sounded a lot more hesitant than normal. “I guess if you’re not going to leave, can you at least go inside that tent over there and eat something, so I can at least tell him you’re not … pushing yourself.”

Yuki was worried – worried enough to send Katsu all the way up here. Shingen wasn’t going to leave, couldn’t leave in the middle of this project, but he could at least send back some reassurance. “Tell him this is worth the risk. And not to worry. I’m doing fine.” For now. He was doing fine for now.

She nodded and turned around without saying goodbye, slowly making her way down the muddy path toward the river. If all that had happened over the past couple of days, well, if it hadn’t happened, he would have been happy to see Katsu, might have taken a moment to show him what they were doing here. Actually, if things had been different, Katsu would have been with him up here from the start. But everything was different now.

His friend Katsu didn’t exist.

Because it had been Yuki who asked him, via Katsuko, not to push himself, Shingen did follow the suggestion and grabbed a few morsels to eat. He’d only just picked up a bowl of now-cold rice, when Sasuke appeared at his elbow, slipping into his vicinity in that silent way he had.

Something was slightly off about Kenshin’s ninja though. Shingen couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. Was it that his clothes seemed cleaner than earlier? That odd thought fled his mind, when Sasuke spoke. “A little boy just fell into the river.”

“Where? How close are we?” Was there time to get a rope? Unlikely. He dropped the bowl, not caring that is splattered on the ground, and rushed after Sasuke.

Sasuke pointed. “There… downriver – Katsuko ran after him.”

Once again, he felt that fist around his heart tighten as he ran for his horse. “Can she swim?”

He looked back over his shoulder, but the ninja had vanished.

Of course, he couldn’t have expected her to keep her promise not to take any insane, stupid risks. She could likely toss off false promises as easily as the lies that were a second nature to her.

By the time he was on his horse, galloping along the riverbank, there was no sight of either Katsuko or a child in the water. Across the raging waters, a group frantic people were running alongside the river – the boy’s family, he assumed.

They were pointing – finally, he located the boy, floundering in the water. But where was Katsuko? Had she gone in after him? Had she--?

As he rounded a bend, he saw her up ahead, hanging half upside down from a tree that stretched out over the river. Even as he fathomed her plan; recognized its merit, there was a part of him that wanted to drag her down from the tree, pull her to safety.

All he could do was hold his breath, watching as his daredevil messenger dangled over the river, one arm reaching toward the child who in moments would pass underneath.

Katsuko snagged the back of the boy’s clothing, while he reached up and clung to her arm. Shingen hurried toward them, prepared to help pull the boy to shore if she didn’t have the strength to lift him into the tree.

CRACK.

He would be replaying the image of Katsuko, no, it was Katsu, falling into the river for the rest of his life. He might lose them both – the mischievous forest sprite who played kiss-and-run, and the puzzle-loving messenger who he’d looked forward to seeing every afternoon.

Even while his mind was reeling, his body already had urged his horse into a gallop, flying along the riverbank, as he kept them in sight, feeling that clench of panic every time her head disappeared under water.

She’d kept her grip on the branch though, and the boy – good girl. Admiration for her determination broke through the fear. Yes, that’s it… keep your head up. As they continued to gallop along the riverside, his brain flipped into tactics, as he analyzed the current, assessing where the water was most likely to send them. He knew this river, had studied it. Up ahead, the channel widened, which would lessen the rapids, somewhat, but hopefully still be shallow enough for his horse to cross.

Without hesitation, his well-trained horse entered the river at his signal, and at least at first, seeming to find a foothold on the bottom. But the further toward the center he got, the less steady his horse was.

He’d gotten used to measuring out the remainder of his life in months –  was that measurement going to be down to heartbeats?

Fortunately, his horse had found his footing again, and he pressed forward, aiming for a place that would intercept their progress. Then Katsu was slammed into a boulder, ricocheting them almost out of reach… but…

He had them. He had her. She looked at him, seeming dazed – had she hit her head on that rock? – before blinking the water out of her eyes, and pushing the boy into his arms while she climbed onto his horse. I have you.

They weren’t nearly out of danger, but at least Katsu and the boy weren’t being flung about in the rapids. Worried that he was asking too much of his horse, especially when once again, he faltered, he climbed off, hoping to help lead him to the bank. “Hold on,” he told Katsu. Would she listen? He sensed, rather than saw her make a move to help. “If you get off this horse, I will drown you myself.”

Muttering under his breath, every obscenity he knew, in random order, he guided his horse toward the closest bank. Even after he sensed the moment his horse once again was able to touch the bottom of the river, he didn’t relax until they were all safely out of the water.

And then it was simply enough to stand there and gaze at where they had all been. They were out of the water, but in front of his eyes was the image of Katsuko tossed about in the rapids, being slammed against the rocks, tangled up in the debris. He looked over at her, just to confirm that yes, she was there. She too was staring at the water. He wondered if she realized she was still hanging onto the little boy as if his life was still in danger.

“Hiko!”

An older man – presumably the boy’s father rushed up. He grabbed his son, alternately hugging then yelling – and Shingen related to every change of mood. “Thank you for saving my only son. Hiko is a careless whelp, but he would be missed.”

“No thanks are needed,” Shingen said. He ruffled the boy’s wet hair.

“Be that as it may, I am grateful,” the man said. He looked over his shoulder at where the rest of the family group was making their way along the riverbank. “I would have been left with five useless daughters.”

He didn’t have to see Katsuko’s face to know how she felt about that, and even before she took a step forward, Shingen prepared to haul her back to his side. He placed a warning hand on her shoulder. Immediately she stiffened. Did she still fear his touch?

Annoyed, he turned his attention back to Hiko’s father. “I’ve found a multitude of uses for them,” Shingen said. “But I’m glad we were able to be of service to you.”

The boy’s mother scurried up with a blanket and wrapped her son up in it. Before rejoining his family, he turned and hugged Katsuko. He imagined that being in the river together had been somewhat of a bonding experience – and if he were being completely honest, he wasn’t sure if the boy would have survived without her. Shingen likely would not have gotten to him in time, were it not for Katsuko keeping Hiko’s head above water. But even that honesty couldn’t overcome the fear and anger that still coursed through him.

“I cannot repay you, but, would you like to have one of my daughters?” The man gestured to where five girls were lined up. “Sho,” he said, and the tallest girl stepped forward. She gave him a shy smile.

She was a pretty child, but possibly young enough to be his daughter. He smiled at her, and tried to be kind about the rejection. “I couldn’t separate you from your family, Princess.” Then he addressed her father. “You do me honor, but I am not in any position to add to my household.”

The man bowed, then went to his wagon, and returned with a couple sea otter pelts and a sack of something that clinked. “Please accept these as a token of my gratitude.”

Shingen nodded, and stowed the gifts in his saddlebags.

The family all bowed and headed back up river.

Katsuko looked at him warily, and it was on the tip of his tongue to give her a lecture that she would never forget, but on the heels of that thought was the memory of her falling into the river, and before he could think better of it, he’d pulled her into his arms. Simply to confirm that she was real and alive and here and … ahhh… not wearing that binding she normally wore around her breasts when she dressed as a boy.

He stepped back quickly and didn’t miss that flinch she gave when he gripped her shoulders. “Didn’t you promise never to do something that dangerous again?”

“I did not!” She gave him a calm and steady glare. “I said I couldn’t promise that. I might be a liar, but I don’t make promises that I don’t intend to keep.” She yanked herself out of reach.

Does she think I’m going to strangle her? He was tempted to do all sorts of things, but of course he could control those impulses.

Meanwhile, she continued to protest. “What I said was that I would consult you if feasible. It was not feasible.”

That… was likely the correct assessment of the situation, but that didn’t lessen the anger he felt. “Do you have any idea what could have happened if Sasuke hadn’t gotten my attention in time?”

“Yes.” The look she gave him was easily translatable. “But, if the tree branch hadn’t broken, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Did she not remember they had fought about this before? More likely she remembered but hoped he didn’t. “The hell we wouldn’t. Just because you survived, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a stupid, reckless thing to do!” Again, some part of him recognized that her actions had likely saved the boy’s life, but he couldn’t stop himself from yelling.

“I didn’t have much time to think-“

“That, is obvious-“

“What else was I supposed to do? Let the boy drown?”

No… that was not in her nature. If he were honest with himself, if this had been almost anyone else standing in front of him, he would have admired them for it. Maybe she was a liar, but whatever was in her dubious moral code wouldn’t allow her to stand back when lives were at stake.

His horse meanwhile, apparently had had enough of both of them, and chose that moment to try and shake off the river. Right. They couldn’t stay here all night. “Come on. We’ll need to find shelter before we lose daylight.”

Not bothering to check whether or not Katsuko was following, he mounted his horse. He didn’t notice he was holding his breath until he felt her climb on behind him. At least she was willing to let him take the lead in finding shelter. That relief had him prod his horse forward sooner than he’d intended, and Katsuko let out a little, “eep” as she hurried to wrap her arms around his waist. Possibly the only time she’d ever rushed to grab him.

He doubted they would find any structures in the area, but the hills were riddled with caves; it was only a matter of finding one large enough to shelter them. Hopefully before the sunset – otherwise, they’d have to build something out of branches. Either way, an uncomfortable night loomed ahead of them.

Katsuko’s grip on him slackened – was she falling asleep? He reached to take her hand, and he sensed her startling into awareness again. The near-drowning must be catching up to her. If she’s that exhausted, she ought to be in front … better to ensure she didn’t fall off. It was unlikely that she would accept if he made that suggestion, so he simply did his best to wake her up every time he sensed her dozing off.

Finally, he found a likely cave set back in the hills and pulled his horse to a stop. “This will have to do,” he said.

Katsuko shook herself awake, and peered around him. He could feel her actually shudder when she saw his idea of a shelter. “Th-that’s a c-cave,” she said.

Was she still afraid to be alone with him? The implication was insulting. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take the opportunity to push my unwanted attentions on you again.” He wouldn’t have pushed them to begin with, if he’d had any idea they were not welcome. Usually, they were quite welcome, if not invited. In fact, often, they were encouraged.

Not wanting to even look at her at this point, he busied himself with finding the driest possible place to settle his horse, built him a bit of a rain-break out of branches, then walked past her into the cave. “Coming?” If she didn’t follow him inside, he would literally carry her in there – whatever her feelings were toward him was no reason to spend the night sitting in the rain.

After a moment of hesitation, he heard her footsteps patter in. She halted again, right by the mouth of the cave. “Do you have a lantern?”

“I was more concerned with catching up to you, than I was with grabbing a lantern.” He did have the saddlebags, though, and hopefully, between the leather of the bags and the oilskin wrappings, his clothes would be… they were damp in places. But not soaked. “The slightly good news is that I had yet to unpack my saddlebags, so at least I’ve got a change of clothing. Not completely dry, more’s the pity, but the oilskin protected them to an extent.”

He wrapped a layer of his kimono in one of the pelts. “Get out of those wet things.” He tossed the bundle toward the direction of her voice.

The faint light from the mouth of the cave was just enough to outline her body, but her features were in shadow. He doubted that she could see him at all. Even so, he made sure to look away from her, as he changed into dry – drier – clothes. Hopefully, although he doubted he would be that lucky, he wouldn’t get sick, or if he did, that the worst of it would hold off until he could be back in Kasugayama.

Once drier, he took stock of their provisions. He always kept a packet of rice cakes in his saddlebags – not that there was any danger of starvation, but they ought to eat. “If you can manage to bring yourself closer to me, I’ve found some field rations of dried rice.” What else – what had the trader given them? He rooted through the sack, found a couple of bottles. He opened one and took a tentative sip. “And the trader gave us some sake.”

The stilted reply came from the front of the cave – apparently she’d parked herself as far as possible from him. “No thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” More for him then. He took a quick bite, got some petty satisfaction at the echo of the crunch.

At some point, they needed to have it out, clear whatever misconceptions and lies still stood between them, this discomfort was becoming unbearable, but he didn’t have the energy to take that on. He would still have to keep a distant eye on her at Kasugayama until they could prove to her that going after Yoshiaki was unnecessary. Say what you will about Nobunaga – and Shingen had said plenty – he would deal with that problem himself.

Hopefully, by the time she moved on to whatever life she chose for herself, they’d at least part if not as friends, but with a better knowledge of who they were, and who they weren’t.

Once she left, he could always have his mitsumono keep track of her, simply to assure himself that she was alive and safe. He’d like to know that, and, well, in a few months that would no longer be an issue. Maybe she’d find her way to someone who could keep her daredevil impulses in check, keep her safe. Someone who would appreciate the way she threw herself into investigating puzzles, who would recognize her latent talent for strategy– perhaps he really should send her to work for Mitsuhide. Let the two of them drive each other crazy. She’d probably prove enough of a distraction for Nobunaga’s spymaster to keep him out of Kenshin’s hair for a while. It was a rather elegant solution… and he hated it.

He looked toward the entry to the cave, but it was now pitch black. He could no longer see Katsuko, but he could hear her breathing… and…

Something’s not right.

He’d certainly spent enough time laboring to breathe, to recognize when someone else was struggling. Struggling with what, though? “Katsu? Is something wrong?”

Her breath choked off with a sharp intake – the sound of someone trying to pretend that everything was fine. He knew that sound too. He’d performed that masquerade. Katsuko was terrified. Maybe of him. But more likely, he’d been mistaken …about many things.

He stood up. Keeping one hand over his head to make sure he didn’t accidentally walk into the low hanging ceiling of the cave – the last thing he needed on top of everything else was a concussion- he hugged the wall as he made his way back to where he believed Katsuko was sitting. “You’re really not ok, are you?”

She reached out and took his hand. Some of the tension he’d been holding uncoiled at the feeling of that hand in his. There was trust in that hand. She needed him. “N-n-no.”

He slid down the wall to sit next to her – she was curled up, her face on her knees. He’d seen this before – sometimes in battle. Sometimes after, when soldiers could not erase the scenes of battle from their mind. “I’m here.” The battle, whatever it was, was in her mind. There wasn’t much he could do, but he could be here. To give her something else to latch onto besides her thoughts, he started talking, a half nonsense, half-truth story about the orphaned bear cub he had adopted and a day that it had gotten into Kenshin’s stash of pickled plums.

He put his arm around her shoulders and felt her relax slightly. He remembered the horror in her voice when she saw the cave – was it the cave, or the dark? She’d asked for a lantern. And yet, it had been fairly dark at the lake, and she’d had no trouble blowing out the candle in the Inn. He’d walked into Katsu’s room once at night, and there hadn’t been a candle or lantern left burning.

Not the dark. The cave itself?

A fragment of memory from the night he’d tried to forget presented itself. He’d been too mad at her at the time to take it in, but he’d heard everything…

“Was the opportunity too great to pass up when you tried to kill me before?”

“I tried to kill you a few times… can you be more specific?”

“Box.”

“Oh, the crate. That one I just left up to fate whether or not you survived. If Motonari had let you out before you died of thirst, I imagine he’d have found some use for you. It didn’t matter to me as long as you were gone.”

The vassal, Iekane, also from Katsuko’s past – he’d locked her in a crate, apparently loaded her on a ship? A Mouri ship? How long had she been shut in there? An experience like that – yes, that could leave a person with a fear of dark closed in places. The idea of his daredevil forest sprite locked inside a…

His?

Yes. She had followed him home, and he was keeping her.

His.

For as long as he was able, he was keeping her.

His.

Katsuko sighed and melted against him. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

He didn’t. Everyone was afraid of something. He attempted to lighten the mood. “Aside from your habit of flinging yourself out of trees, Devil, no.” He brushed his fingers through her still-damp hair, resisting the urge to cup her face, and seal her lips with a kiss. Not the right time.

But hopefully, soon.

[Very soon... look for another post later today]

@bestbryn

[lollipencil]

Mask of Khonshu: Part 2

Well, seeing as the first part is so far the most popular thing (outside of the Moon Son AU) I’ve done on here, I will put to words the second part I’ve have had brewing in my head off-and-on since posting for you all. I would recommend reading the first part for context. Enjoy and be gentle.

---

When Layla El-Faouly found her husband, she was going to... Well, she wasn’t yet quite sure exactly what she was going to do, but it would definitely make her feelings very clear. And it would take a obscene amount of groveling and explanations for it to stop.

Ever since the divorce papers arrived, she’d been scouring the world, starting from America and branching out, for Marc. Now, two months later, she finally had a lead.

It had taken a commission to a group of hackers, but she had security footage showing a person of a very similar description going about their day in London. Any scepticism was lost when the cameras had captured a clear shot of his face. Even making an expression she had never seen on his face before and with massive bags under his eyes, could not change the fact that Layla knew the face of Marc Spector.

Now all she had to do was find him.

That had been a week ago. While part of Layla thought about going when the cameras stated he passed them every day, it was too risky. He might spot her first and then she’d be back at square one. So, she searched by night. Surely, a city as big and as crime-riddled as London would encourage him to put on the mask, right?

It was night three of acting as mugging bait that someone finally took a nibble. The effort to not grin as the teenager approached with intent was immense. “Money, now lady.” While the box cutter could be a minor issue, it was nothing Layla thought she couldn’t handle. And something that Marc couldn’t ignore. And, just as that thought popped into place, a blurr of white leapt down at the teenager and-

No. No no no. It was not Marc. “Apparently, it’s unique to each bearer,” Marc had grit out after she’d seen him change and a lengthy interrogation, “Mask goes off of whatever they think it should look like.” But she had seen it. Amoured plates held by linen bandages with a cloak and bronze crescents in various places. The figure facing the potental mugger was not him.

But he had the mask, not Marc. “Now then,” his voice almost sounded like Marc’s. But it was not him, “are you going to leave this nice lady alone, or do I have to convince you?” The teenager took a half-second glance at the truncheons in his hands and fled.

Leaving Layla with the man who was not her husband.

With not even a sound, he smoothly turned to face her. There was not even a trace of similarity between Marc’s suit and this one. Only the white colour scheme and the crescent embossed on the forehead, and even those weren’t quite the same. “And you, I feel, are someone I should be talking to.” For a moment Layla was stunned, before suddenly swallowing a great deal of emotion. Anger chief of them. “And why should we talk?” “Because you weren’t afraid. Nor did you make any motion to try and stop your little assailant. Were you waiting for me, or someone else?”

“Please, like you don’t know about my husband!” Anger exploded out of her without warning. The figure, this “new” Moon Knight, merely blinked. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.” “The last time I saw eyes like yours,” Layla slowly stated as if speed would increase her rage, “there were on my husband. Now, why do you have the mask?”

Silence settled between them. “I do not know,” The figure said after an eternity. “How can you not know?” Layla almost stammered. He paused, looking as if those glowing eyes could weight her soul by themselves.

“Before tonight,” he slowly explained, “I had never seen the mask before. Nor the case it had been inside. I found it tucked under a table in my flat. I do not know how long it had been there, or where I had acquired it. What do you know about this mask?”

For a moment, Layla could not speak. By the time she could manage speech again, every word teetered back and forth between verge-of-tears and laughter, “I know enough to know that that should not be possible.” “How so?” “Because that mask is literally bound by blood to its bearer. It should not have been you!” Maybe that was unfair, but given Marc could possibly be dead, Layla didn’t care that much.

The figure paused to soak in this scrap of information. “There,” he hesitied briefly, “there is one, maybe two, possible scenarios here.” Silently, Layla waved for him to continue. “About two months ago, I moved into my mother’s flat. A month after that, I became aware of potental sleepwalking. I have since taken measures to prevent me leaving the flat, but...

The first scenario is as such: I left the flat unaware, your husband volentarily unbound himself from the mask and happened upon me in the streets. Wanting or needing to get rid of the mask, he binds me to the mask, places it in a case, and hands it off to me with a request to keep it safe. I go home, shove it under the table, and it is forgotten until tonight. Or, it is forced from him. Some possible altercation occurs, and it is out of the case in the open. I stumbled upon it and somehow end up bound to it. I tuck it back into the case, and take it home,” the figure sets out, “I can not think of another way this could have happened.”

Layla digested this. Both seemed utterly improbable, yet there could be something there. Layla knew Marc hated working for Khonshu, hated who he became everytime he put on the mask. While handing it off to some random guy he found sleepwalking didn’t sound like something he’d do, if he felt desperate enough, then maybe...

A shaky sigh echoed around the alley. “So,” she calmly stated, “you don’t know where my husband is.” “No,” he stated apologetically, “I am very sorry. Although, if I may, can I ask you a question?” “Go ahead.” “How do I know if this is real?”

Layla blinked in bafflment: “What?” “Seemingly the night before, I had a very vivid dream,” the new Moon Knight continued, “Nightmare, really. And I woke, and seem to have lost two days worth of time.” “Oh,” she slowly said, “I’m sorry.” “It’s ok. I just-” he rubbed his fingertips along his thumb as if about to snap his fingers, “I am uncertain if all this is really happening, or if I’m starting to lose track of reality.”

For a moment, Layla was speechless. What do you say in this situation? An idea popped into her head. “Give me your phone.” “My phone? Why?” “I’ll text you in the morning,” Layla held out her hand for it, “If you receive a text from me you’ll know that this is real.” Nodding, he pulled out a hieroglyphic covered phone and handed it off. Entering his number in her phone as “NMK” and hers in his as “Reality Check”, she handed it back with a sudden wave of melancholy. “I guess I should got going.” “Would you like me to escort you?” “No. No, thank you. I, I need to be alone right now.”

At this, Moon Knight nodded and, with a wave, walked away.

---

The start of daylight drifted over Steven’s eyes as he woke up. Memory alluded him for just a moment. Then, it hit.

He jolted upright, hands clawing at his face and probing desperately. No mask, either fabric nor cartonnage. He was himself again. He was fine. For the second time in two days, Steven laughed in sheer relief as he flopped back in his bed.

Sighing softly, he rolled to his right. And found the mask resting on his pillow. He startled up like a cat who’s tail had been trodden on, but nothing happened. Panting, he scrambed up and snatched it up.

Nothing.

Chuckling, Steven shook his head at his own jumpiness. Just another nightmare. And checking his phone showed the correct date, granted with the two day difference, but the correct date regardless. Then, right before Steven locked his phone to get started with his day, a text suddenly appeared that made his stomach sink like a boulder: “Good morning NMK, it wasn’t a dream.”

[multistoty]

@hellforestrp​

Dark was for stars and dreams and the magic that took place in between days. He’s oxegyn and she was dying to breathe. Hope Mikealson was not used to being an easy one to love. Being one of the few unkillable beasts on this earth made you easily feared and respected though their was a clear line in the sand. Occasionally, there are minutes that get extra seconds. Moments so precious the universe stretches to make additional room for them. Some things are worth pursuit regardless of the cost. Some would probably call him a villain. Others would say his magic makes him closer to a god.  She didn't know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it's already yours. He's never stared at her like this before. Sometimes he gazed at her as if he wanted to be her undoing, but just then it was as if he wanted her to undo him. Wishes were things of wonder that took a certain amount of faith. When she loved, she did it as fiercely as she lived.  She wanted to trust him, but a lifetime of mistrust made it impossible. Happy endings can be caught, but they are difficult to hold on to. They are dreams that want to escape the night. They are treasure with wings. They are wild, feral, reckless things that need to be constantly chased, or they will certainly run away. Inside the house, violin music, richer than the darkest chocolate, started playing. It seeped outside and whispered to the redhead as Draemen’s smile turned seductive, all shameless curves and immoral promises. An invitation to places that proper young ladies didn’t think about, let alone visit. Tonight he was smiling like a wicked prince, escaped from the stars, ready to spirit her up into the heavens. And even though she would never tell him, she loved the way he moved, with total confidence, as though nothing in the world could harm him. It made her less fearful when she was around him. As if boldness and bravery did not always end in defeat. The new orleans air kissed at the delicate exanpse of skin around her collar bone. It smelled of him; of apples and magic and cold,moonlit nights. He tasted like exquisite nightmares and stolen dreams, like the wings of fallen angels and bottles of fresh moonlight. It's the kind of kiss that inspires stars to climb into the sky and light up the world. They molded together, fitted against one another with stunning perfection. Aria had never felt as she did now, exploring the taste of him. Feeling the strength of his arms around her. Inhaling sweat and leather and woodsmoke. His scents. She felt as though she’d found a moment of forever. Like this was how they should’ve always been. She wanted to study the secrets tucked between his elbows and the whispers caught behind his knees. The girl barely above five feet wanted to follow the lines of his silhouette with her vivid blue eyes and the tips of her ivory artistic fingers. She wanted to trace rivers and valleys along the curved muscles of his body.  They are synonyms but not the same.Synonyms know each other like old colleagues, like a set of friends who've seen the world together. They swap stories, reminisce about their origins and forget that though they are similar, they are entirely different, and though they share a certain set of attributes, one can never be the other. Because a quiet night is not the same as a silent one, a firm man is not the same as a steady one, and a bright light is not the same as a brilliant one because the way they wedge themselves into a sentence changes everything.

They are not the same. It's hot rain and humid days and broken thermostats. It's screaming and raging steam engines and wanting to take your clothes off just to feel a breeze. It's the kind of kiss that makes you realize oxygen is overrated. “You know, you have a really strange way of telling me you’re attracted to me.”  “Because a quite night is not the same as a silent one,a firm man is not the same as a steady one, and a bright light is not the same as a brilliant one because of the way they wedge themseleves into a sentence changes everything. Gone is the boy with the guns and the skeletons in his closet. These hands holding her have never held a weapon. These hands have never touched death. These hands are perfect and kind and tender. He's dangerous, electric, impossible to contain. His body is rippling with an energy so extraordinary that even when he's calmed down it's almost palpable. It has a presence. Her hands ran gently along the bloom of his cheeks. A gentle kiss their as her smile was more mischevious in the humid air. “And you’re wrong if you think I don’t want you. I’ve wanted you for so long, and I’ll never stop wanting you.”