#I need more ghost trick content so I MADE MY OWN!

[selena-the-undead-god-of-love]

sooooo I randomly decided to make a weird pseudo-sequel thingy to ghost trick for my own mind to handle the lack of official new ghost trick content. It all started with some thought experiments and has started to develop into an actual thing. Maybe at some point I'll talk about it more, but that's if anyone wants to hear about my insanity. But do know it takes place five years after the ending, and that I made OCs to act as the new cast and to make a new mystery, and it features the old cast as well. Idk I'm going fucking insane over this damn game so-

[puuuders]

In Pursuit of Something Better ~ Part 4

Ghost fanfiction

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Happy International Ghost day! Hopefully I'll be able to draw later but I can feel art block watching me 😔

I've been super into writing this recently. Hopefully I can keep up with it better now lol

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Omega doesn't know how to feel about Terzo.

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Read on AO3

2k words

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It was maybe 2 hours later that Omega awoke, in a relatively comfortable bed compared to his pile of clothing that he normally slept on. He woke up in a temporary state of sleep paralysis before his muscles slowly grew stronger and of use. He turned his head with a burning ache in his neck, catching the attention of the fire ghoul that sat in the chair of a small black vanity in the right corner of the medium sized dorm. Alpha looked at Omega with concern, watching his typically robust arms quiver under his own weight as he peeled himself off of the bed. 

“You need to go fix Delta.” Alpha spoke softly, but sternly. “He is in the infirmary with Terzo. His-”

“What is wrong with you?” Omega hissed, swinging his legs off of the bed. “What the hell are you sucking up to him for?”

“Don't you even start to lecture me about trust, bastard. He told me what you said.” Alpha looked away with an annoyed glint in his eyes. "You were sucking up to him too, anyway." Omega rolled his eyes.

“I didn't want to get beaten." Omega hissed. "Obviously, you just can't handle yourself. And neither can Delta, and neither can Pebble. Maybe Aero. But-”

“You were the only one to get aggressive, did you forget that? You started a fight.” Alpha interrupted, rummaging through the drawers on the vanity. He pulled out a white candle. 

“I didn't start a fight, Papa did! He was trying to piss me off. And Delta fed into it, that's why I ripped his fucking vocal cords out. He doesn't deserve to talk anyway.” Omega moved towards Alpha, watching as he explored the other contents of the vanity. 

“We could use these.” Alpha collected all the candles, placing them neatly in two bunches of three on both sides of the vanity. The orange tips of his fingers began to glow and he pinched the wicks with his index and thumb, igniting each candle into a steady flame. They appeared to be cheap and scentless, but the room was quickly filled with the smell of cinnamon, earning a pleased hum from Alpha as he looked up at the bigger ghoul. Omega glared down at him, somewhat annoyed, somewhat intrigued. He leaned over Alpha with his hand pressed against the edge of the vanity, tapping his claws and fiddling with the already peeling black paint. 

“Delta is probably fine,” Omega sighed, moving back as to not give in to his temptations, “but I will go check.”

Alpha sighed in disappointment, not realizing he was holding his breath beforehand. 

“Then you will come back?” 

“Only so you can show me where my own room is.”

“Then ask ‘Papa’.”

Omega narrowed his eyes. 

“I don't trust him. He used one of those spells.” Omega grumbled. 

“You were actually about to kill Delta though. You deserved it.”

“No,” Omega turned to Alpha again, “he was reading the Grimoire yesterday. You are going to get yourselves killed if you are going to buddy up with him.”

“He wants to revolt,” Alpha said with a grin. Omega scoffed. 

“Bullshit.”

“Then what do you think?” Alpha snapped, turning his whole body to look towards Omega  “What more could he possibly want from us? We have to do what he says already or it's The Pit, so what would he need to trick us for?"

Omega parted his lips as if he were going to refute, but nothing came to mind. His silence made the edge of Alpha's stare soften, and he shook his head.

“You are so paranoid of losing that you don't realize there is nothing left to lose. We have lost it all already.” Alpha said empathetically. “There is only room to gain if you stop being so scared all the time, Megs. Terzo is good. This is what you wanted two days ago at the ceremony! For him to be good, and now that he is good, you don't believe it. Even Delta knows, and he was ready to fight him less than 5 hours ago! If Delta is such a hothead and trusts Terzo, why can't you?” 

Omega did not say anything, his eyes weighed to the floor, a sour look still present on his face. Alpha scoffed and dropped his hands. 

“Nothing I say will do anything for your stubbornness. You will learn eventually. Go fix Delta.” Alpha slumped back down in the chair. 

Omega reluctantly trudged down the wide hallways of the ministry, dwelling heavily on what Alpha had said to him. He was supposed to be a quintessence ghoul. Could he simply not reach into Terzo’s mind to identify his true intentions? Or maybe he was too afraid to find the absolute truth, to be proven right that they would be trapped under the same oppression they had suffered through Secondo. In a perfect world, Primo would return. Their true Papa, their summoner that treated them like lost puppies. That is essentially what they were. Lost puppies in need of direction and care, and Primo delivered. Though, the ministry was not in the same financial stability that they were now, so the ghouls were still, stuck with ugly, uncomfortable rags and a small room to share. But they could forgive that, as Primo allowed them to roam. Allowed them to speak freely, engaged with them in a friendly manner, encouraged them to serve the Clergy not by threats and acts of violence, but by reciprocation of respect and care. Primo was their Papa, but it was only a matter of time before he would have to retire. It was not possible to have a Papa like him again. 

The heavy infirmary door pushed open, where Omega was unwelcomingly greeted with silent glares from Delta, and an uncomfortable look from Terzo. Delta had a thick cloth wrapped around his neck, faint spots of red bleeding through it. Omega locked eyes with Terzo, briefly holding eye contact before he felt too disturbed by the man to continue looking. Instead, he reached out to carefully unwrap the cloth, examining the damage. He was exaggerating when he said that he had ripped his vocal cords out; there were four pierce marks soaked in almost black, crusted blood. 

“It will still be a few days before it is fully healed.” Omega spoke in an apathetic and monotone voice, showing no care for the injury he caused to Delta. He placed his fingers on his neck with a sigh, his horns emitting a faint purple glow that travelled down his veins and to the tip of his tail. Terzo watched in fascination, trying to ignore the gross sound of stretching skin as Omega's quintessence pulled Delta's skin together and closed the wound. Terzo examined Omega's now uncovered face as well; mostly dark gray, with dark purple around his eyes. Tufts of white fur below his pointy ears, matching slicked back hair. 

“Wrap it. Keep it dry.” Omega suddenly mumbled, startling both Delta and Terzo. 

“That's what he said.” Terzo smirked. Omegas eyes slowly moved over to Terzo, his face flushed with embarassment and irritation. 

“‘That's what she said’.” Omega corrected. He had no interest in his joke, only wanting to be right about something.

“Are you homophobic, ghoul?”

“Okay.” Omega wiped his blood stained fingers, slamming down the gauze he used to cover Delta's wound and turned to exit the room. 

“Wait! I am only kidding! I'm sorry. Let's talk!” Terzo called out, following Omega. Omega continued his way out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind him, which Terzo caught. Omega did not wait despite hearing the patter of Terzo's footsteps desperately trying to keep up. Omega looked at the key number, his eyes moving up to the left as he thought about where his room could be located. Then, he continued walking in that direction, gritting his teeth as Terzo continued to follow and call out for him, not stopping until they were both at Omega's new room. 

“Let us talk again. I want to talk to you.” Terzo gasped, out of breath. For every stride of Omega's longer legs, Terzo had to take three jogging steps. 

“I hope it is an apology for what you did earlier.” Omega hissed, jamming the key into the slot on the door and pushing the door open. He wanted to slam it in Terzo's face, but his better judgment stopped him, and he gripped the door tightly to avoid hitting Terzo with it. 

“I do want to apologize.” Terzo stepped in, gently closing the door behind him as Omega looked around his room. It was pretty much a copy of Alpha's, the only difference being the quality of furniture. Omega's room seemed less run down as if no one had been in here before. 

“I am sorry, Omega. You didn't seem to hear me when I was telling you to stop hurting your friend.” 

“Stop using those fucking spells if you expect to befriend a ghoul,” Omega barked, shocking himself with how comfortable he felt speaking to his Papa like this. 

“I study the Grimoire not for you. It was circumstantial, it will not need to happen if you are a good ghoul.” 

“What do you need it for then?”

“For summoning more ghouls.”

“We don't need any more ghouls. There is enough.”

“Not for what I have in mind for this ministry, And what I have in mind for you.”

“Oh, you want to rebel, I heard. Is that it? Is that what is in your mind?” Omega seethed, sarcasm dripping in his voice. He narrowed his eyes and suddenly grabbed Terzo by the jaw, claws poking into the painted skin of his cheeks, huffing as he got closer to his face. Terzo's eyes widened, fear radiating from his body. Yet he stood still. He balled his hands into fists, tilting his head up to meet Omega's gaze. He could feel Omega entering his mind, scavenging for ideation and emotion. Terzo watched his facial expression shift from his discoveries, morphing from irritation, shock, disgust. After maybe a minute of this, he was calmer, and slowly let go of Terzo's jaw, listening to the frightened breaths emitting from Terzo's nose and gritted teeth. 

“You are so insignificant,” Omega mumbled, “you are only Papa because you are an Emeritus brother. No one actually respects you. And I can see why with your filthy brain.” He looked Terzo up and down as he fixed his posture. 

“No one will fear you.”

“No, but they will fear you.” Terzo choked, the confidence stripped from his body at Omega’s brutal honesty. “That is why I need you, you are big and scary. And strong! And that thing you did. That felt strange.”

“It is useless,” Omega sighed, “it is only to spread temptation and to understand others. I cannot control minds, if that is what you are expecting me to do.”

“Well it certainly works for what it is for.” Terzo tilted his head with a grin. Omega was unamused. 

“I will only participate in this if you give me the Grimoire.” Omega demanded, ignoring Terzo's lustful comment. 

“Deal.”

Omega's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. He was mostly saying that to spark a reaction out of Terzo to prove that somehow his unspoken thoughts were lying. 

“Do not destroy it, though. I have been studying it. If it is destroyed, I will lose you all to The Pit.” Terzo added. 

“I will keep it safe.” Omega reassured. 

“Then it is settled,” Terzo turned to leave the room, “you are a good ghoul. I will be back shortly, yes?”

Omega couldn't help but feel his cheeks heat up each time Terzo would say that. 

“Yeah.”

[secondsovereign]

Application Writing Sampler for posterity

Three ghosts of the past made manifest through the Star of Eden, a consequence of a life of hubris maybe, or a sign that the past was never as far away as the man tried to pretend it was. Perhaps he should have expected this, for his dreams to be more like a nightmare that chased him without end. To some, Penacony was a land of dreams, yet for the former Sovereign of Anti-Entropy it was little more than a nightmare designed to give form to the deepest shadows of his mind. The moment of Sol is like a cruel trick played upon him by the oak family, the ghosts of the past brushing past him at every opportunity.

Sirin, his first failure, violet locks catching in the breeze as she trailed after sisters whom he could not face without the gnawing of shame at his mind. It's the first hint of a trap in his mind when the question echoes around his mind. “Do you consider yourself strong, Herrscher?” words devoid of malice, spoken more like a former pupil than someone he considered one of his greatest failures. Strength was such a funny thing to him, strength was something more easily reflected in his students than the man himself. What use was the inherited strength of the father when he’d failed to trap Kevin in that imaginary maze for just a moment longer? Gloved fingers reach to rub at aged eyes, to caress the sleeplessness beneath glass lenses, before his gaze is held steady upon the fading memory of the Second Herrscher. 

“Perhaps I was once Sirin, and yet strength alone was never enough to succeed.” A sigh, leaning heavily on the cane, before his thoughts coalesce into coherency. “My strength has passed on now, and yet… I do not mourn the choice I made in giving that core to Bronya Zaychik. That power is not something to be hoarded, only to guide those who come after us.” Laughter, grandfatherly for the man that’s finally begun to show his age, a hand reaching to tussle the violet locks that have begun to fade into memory.

The scene shifts, the streets fading away into the memory of a lecture room. How long has it been since he stood in these storied halls? Listening to the bustle of students and the ringing of a bell before they filed into the hall for an enlightening discussion on the nature of space engineering. The former Herrscher doesn’t need to cast his gaze around the room to know which ghost of the past awaits him here, the sea of flaming red hair that falls ever so softly over the seat in front, the light snores of a student he hasn’t seen in over a decade. Perhaps these memories are to be his confession, to lay bare every hint of sin that remains in the storied past, it's almost amusing to see her head whip up at the clack of a cane he never had twenty-nine years ago. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Himeko.” Such irony is not lost on him, to welcome back a student who never remembered him outside this phantasmal room. It's calming, in a way, to go through the motions of the lecture before a hand shoots up with a question he’s afraid to take from her.

“What will you be remembered for, Professor?” Armour-piercing as bile rises in his throat, had it of been anyone else he would not feel his age so vividly as he did right now. He wants to curse the Families of Penacony for their hubris, their assumptions that they had any right to pull the memories of her from his mind where he’s locked them oh so deep. Shaky aged breath escapes through clenched teeth, eyes turning to that knowing gaze that stared deep into his soul, “My Students.” It would never satisfy her if she were actually before him, he knows, and yet he cannot bring himself to admit that the sin of removing her memories will be his legacy to his closest confidants. “My legacy will be the happiness they seized by their own hands.”

Welt doesn’t need to wait for the scene to shift, he knows deep down who stands before the final lock, taking the seat offered before crossing eyes with the man before him. “Are you content, Joachim?” A question from the figure who steps into view, the man who set him on this path nearly a century ago, and one he cannot help but answer with a fond smile on his face. “Yes, I wouldn’t change it, even for you, Joyce.” It’s not hubris, not this time, not when he’s given one more chance to speak to his predecessor who set him out on this long path. “And yet, I doubt you want to even ask that. Even as an old man, you still have another lesson for me to learn, don’t you?” A shake of amused features that have only begun to show their age, the cane in his grasp fading away as the Star of Eden hums to life, myriad scenes flashing by as the ghosts of the past fade away, leaving only an opera stage as the fog clears from his thoughts, eyes flashing to the trailblazer standing defiant.

It's a flash, the breath before the storm hits as read lightning coalesces, the numbing entropy of Nihility as he rises in defiance once more, prepared to witness another’s story once again.

[xsunnysucculentx]

meeting task 141

summary: you were transferred from your other task force to the 141 and meet the members. 

warnings: reader smokes, has piercings and tattoos  content warning: none

pronouns: she/her

a/n: this will be a multiple part story, maybe with some of your ideas ^^ english is not my first language, if you find any mistakes pls let me know!

disclaimer: i do not own call of duty or any of the mentioned characters

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ghost didn't know how you landed a place in the 141 task force. not that you weren't good. you were probably one of the best snipers he's encountered.

he didn't see you in action yet, but your killcount is speaking for you. his opinion tho, it was...purely based off appearance. you just didn't look like you'd belong here, your bubbly personality not matching the dark hues of the base and the men, who lived there. 

you weren't the only female member that got transferred from another location. but the only one who stood out to ghost. it wasn't every day that he met someone, who could withstand his gaze and not blurt their whole backstory out once he asked one simple question. you're still pretty mysterious, even after he made a background check, he couldn't find anything on your records. to the public, you were living in santa monica, had three children and a husband named arthur hales. you were a completely normal human being, working an office job before becoming a house wife. and no one would assume that someone like you, always smiling, always trying your best to get warmed up to the men in the past three days you've been here, wearing the light blue oversized hoodie and grey sweatpants were a killer. lost in his thoughts, ghost trailed his gaze through the cantine. you were talking to soap and gaz as you held your cup of tea between your hands. 

"so, we know that you're good at sniping. what about on the field. and experience?" soap asked, his scottish accent peaking through heavily. "actually yeah. i wasn't on the field often, but i know a trick or two when it comes to fighting." you gave a small smile and turned the white mug slightly. "how come you've been transferred here?" gaz asked, being the only one in the past days who's asked yet. you didn't mind the question, you had a long time to think about your answer after all. they didn't need to know the whole truth. not yet, at least. "my task force just got a few new recruits and everyone was occupied with two, except me. and since y'all needed backup, Lt. sent me here to help you from above" you left out the teeny tiny fact that you've known price for a long long time (since you were two, to be exact) and had quite the bond with him, which is why price told general shepherd he'd like to have you on his squad. "who said we needed backup?" soap sounded kinda offended. "giving some of us almost died last time we were out, it does sound like we needed backup." alejandro mentioned and shrugged. you were surprised how fast the men actually accepted you in their circle and how easy it was to communicate. there were no uncomfortable silences or inappropriate jokes, which were almost always there with your other team, and you actually felt quite comfortable here. the only one who hasn't spoken more than two words (which were a simple 'good morning') with you, was ghost. you felt his gaze lingering on your back and you asked yourself why he didn't join the table. maybe he was cautious of you? or in general just a little socially awkward? you didn't know and quite frankly didnt care a lot, there's always that one person in the team. you let your snake bite piercing graze against the back of your teeth and enjoy the silent moment. "whats this?" soap pointed to your left wrist, where your tattoo peeked through. "an angel number. stands for protection and the right path." you explained and looked down at the three small numbers on your wrist. you got it done a few years ago after joining the military, you didnt believe in a "higher power" or anything like that, you just kept remembering your mother, who always said that 4 was your lucky number. you've always been protected in your life, she said. ghost started getting closer to the table, not wanting to come of as weird or anything, and sat down next to alejandro, who was sitting opposite of you. "look who joined us, if it isnt the most handsome man!" soap smiled and put his arms slightly up. you looked at ghost, his dark eyes shooting a quick glance in your direction and looking at soap after that. it was the first time you could really look at him, giving that he either wasn't there or hiding somewhere in the shadows. he had a black balaclava with a skull print on and a black t-shirt. you were wondering why he wore the balaclava inside. it looked very cool (and kinda intimidating), but it left you asking yourself if it was because of you. maybe he had some trust issues and wanted to conceal his identity. 

"i didn't catch your name yet" ghost looked at you. god damn. his voice was deeper than expected. or.. you didnt really know what you were expecting, but definitely not a british accent. "oh, i was called flower. but my Lt. said i had to change my before going out in the field to eliminate any connections to the other task force, im kinda nameless now" you knew you couldn't really pick your own call sign, which would leave you with something like newbie for a couple of days (or weeks, or how ever long it took until you'd figure out your name) ghost gave you a short nod, understanding that you didnt want to say your real name. you didn't know his after all, that only seemed fair. in fact, you didnt know any of the guys names except for alejandro. you made a mental note, you'd remind yourself some day to ask for their real names, maybe it was just too early for that.

"newbie!" yup, it was like you've expected. soaps voice echoed through the gym and you pulled out your headphones. you were mid rep and raised an eyebrow at his call for you. behind him was ghost in a tank top and some black sweatpants. gah damn his arms were big. "yeah?" you asked and pulled off your gym gloves and took your water bottle. you were still in a hoodie and sweatpants, not wanting to show your body because of some.. events that happened back at your old base.

"we wanted to ask if you'd be down for a smoke? well, if you smoke at all" soap started but looked at the bar bell on the floor. "but you probably wanna finish training, right?"

"oh no i was on my last rep for today anyway, soo yeah sure." you gave them a quick smile and turned around, unscrewing the bar bell and putting the black heavy plates where you got them from. soap nudged ghost slightly, pointing at the weights and gave an admiring nod after counting the weight in total. you were strong, no questions asked, but you were also kinda.. he didn't know.. short ? or it just seemed like it, because all of them were tall and you just stood out because you were a lot of inches smaller.

you noticed the look and quickly gathered your stuff, phone, headphones and your water bottle. you'd be passing the sleeping quarters anyways, so you didn't have to ask the men to lend you a cig.

"i just need to get my cigarettes out of the room, i'll be right back" you gave the little announcement and quickly disappeared behind the door, after unlocking it with your card.

"do you think she was deadlifting or squatting with that weight?" soap crossed his arms and looked at ghost.

"dunno. but she sure as hell is strong" he admitted and earned a chuckle from soap.

"gave you a little competition aye?"

while they we're talking, you were on the search for your coolest lighter (a black clipper with a white ace of spades and blood spluttered on it). 'that'll do' you thought, pulling a light pink zippo out of your bag. it had flowers on it and a small engraving, which said 'you're the prettiest flower'. you smiled down at it, memories of your little sister gifting it to after you've been away on a mission for several months flooded your mind. it's already been years in which you haven't seen her, the zippo was a nice reminder that she'd always be waiting for you to come back.

you opened the door to your room and let out a sigh, putting the cigarettes and zippo in the pocket of your hoodie. the men looked down at you and you put your arm out, as a gesture of saying 'lead the way'.

soap and ghost were talking (well, it was mostly soap telling ghost some gossip and ghost giving a hum in response) and you listened to their conversation on the way to the smoking area. it was in the back of the base, some benches and tables scattered here and there. it wasn't very cold outside, the spring air filling your lungs and you took a deep breath in. birds were flying over your head, the trees started to blossom and you were genuinely happy that winter was over and it'd be summer soon.

you sat down at a round table, ghost opposite of you and soap between you and him. you pulled your sealed cigarette package out and removed the plastic wrap.

"didn't think you were a marlboro typa gal" soap mentioned and you flicked against the bottom of the package. "whats that for?"

"the highest cigarette, that comes out, is my lucky cigarette. im smoking it last one, and always wish something." you explained your little ritual and put the cigarette upside down back in the package before offering the two of them one. you put one between your lips and pulled out the lighter.

"we were the ones asking you to come out and now we're smoking your cigarettes" soap commented and you passed the lighter to him.

"pff dont worry about it, i'm not greedy" you smiled and inhaled the smoke. ghost took the lighter and inspected it for a quick second. it was kinda cute, seeing the all so serious man holding a pink lighter. he gave it back and turned around, leaning on his elbows on the table.

you didn't even question it, he didn't want you (or anyone) to see his face and smoking meant pulling his mask over his lips.

"so" you started as you tapped the ash off. "how long have you two known each other?"

"way too long" ghost answered almost immediately and you looked at soap, who just nodded.

"i've seen this man almost die more often than i saw me mum" soap took a deep inhale and blew the smoke out. "anyway, why did you join the military?"

"eh, thats a story for another day" you winked and soap mouthed a 'got it' and stared off into distance.

"we gotta start thinking about a name for you" soap mentioned and you quickly nodded.

"i dont wanna be called newbie again" you kinda whined and put your head onto your free hand. "it took sooo impossibly long to get my other team to pick a name because nothing really fit and 'wasn't screaming me'" you quoted your friend and soap smiled a little.

"well we have to see you in action and pick out a name then huh?"

and just like that, a new era in your life began.

[damienf519]

The Second Beta for Coastal Roads is here!

The second beta is out. I announced the first one earlier this year.  I also made a separate post talking about the pride flag crosswalks I created for the world.  This screenshot is of the first version of the world, but for the most part, its very similar to how it looks now.  It is missing the lots that CJplays will create, that assuming nothing goes wrong will be included in the final version of the map

The map requires every single expansion pack and stuff pack with the exception of Katy Perry Sweet Treats as that is is the only pack I do not own.  In addition it uses the following free store objects

No Tricks, Just Treats

 More Halloween Treats 

 More Holiday Presents 

 Weba Yayfoo

 Modern HDTV by Webbsta Industries

 Honeycomb Bookshelf ( I'm having trouble finding this one in the store for some reason. Hope its still available ) 

 Let there be Sims!

( The download no longer exists as this version of Coastal Roads is out of Date. You can however download the finished version via this post ). When the final version is released, the map and the saved game file will be a separate download, but for now you will have to download them together.  Please make sure you playtest the map using the saved game file.  The current version of Coastal Roads will have to be installed for it to work.  Make sure you delete the previous version if you had it installed on your computer

Given the custom pride crosswalks, I made sure to include two same sex couples, along with my first transgender sim. I hope that you like them.

I am also creating some extra lots that you will be able to download separately when the final version of the map is released, that use some premium store content.

Now that that's over with, here are some additional, more up to date screenshots of what the world currently looks like.  Most of the sims in the pictures below are ones that I created, but a few of them are NPC townies.�� You will need to load the saved game file, in order to encounter them.  There will not be any graveyard ghosts in the saved game file, until the final version of the map.

So what do you guys think so far?  Please let me know if there is anything you like or dislike about the world and if there is anything that could be improved upon.  Also, please let me know what you think of my sims

[whatthefishh]

I request Steven Grant the love of my life helping a reader that got lost in a library. (It’s happened to me more than once…I needed a hug after I got out.)

Kitkat this is so cuuute hehe these are my spooky thoughts (SFW) on this idea:

You were once again lost in your reading, nose buried in a random title that caught your eye as you perused the shelves of your favourite library again

this library wasn't the most popular in your area, but it was still your favourite, despite the rumours about it being haunted

Steven had texted multiple times when you were late for your dinner plans, nothing special just some good food with your favourite guy

conveniently, the restaurant you had chosen was right across the street from the library, and this was not unintentional on your part. You knew he would be coming from work, and possibly late, so instead of waiting around at an empty table, you were going to wait for him in the comfort of the books around you

Though you were lost in the story you were reading, you still were somewhat aware of your surroundings... enough to notice when the temperature dropped enough for your skin to develop goosebumps... enough to notice the flickering of the lights in the corner which you were sat at... enough to notice the eerie quietness that blanketed the library, even though moments before you could hear the soft chatter and beeping of the librarian behind her desk. Come to think of it... she was nowhere to be seen. Everyone had left. The library seemed utterly empty except for you, whereas moments before... you could've sworn there were several people shuffling about.

A random breeze runs through you, and you feel cold all over. Quickly shutting your book and leaving it behind, you weren't in the mood to fight whatever meddlesome kids (or potentially real ghosts) were messing around at this late hour. Maybe the rumours were true!

Making a run for it, you felt disoriented, trying to find the exit in your haste to leave but the lights were playing tricks on you and maybe you made a wrong turn at some point because suddenly you didn't know which way was right. Until you hear his voice.

Steven called out to you, his voice distant but very clearly Steven. You tried to follow the direction from which it was coming from to find your way out of the dark, the leaning towers of books more intimidating than usual.

Blindly running and calling out to him, he kept yelling your name, making it easier for you to find him in the dark. Your frantic voice making him worried, Steven's own voice started mirroring the urgency in yours.

You collided into his chest before you knew it, his arms coming around you comfortingly. Steven cooed at you, holding you close and whispering that it'll be okay, rushing you out of the library doors into the night.

Steven kept his arm around you until you reached the restaurant, trying to comfort you as you told him what happened. He only laughed when you said that you weren't going to go in there without him again.

He also didn't complain about your neediness for the rest of the night, adamant on burrowing your way into his side. He only hugged you back, secretly content with your clinginess.

Taglist

@kittyofalltrades @am-3-thyst @sir-knight-slytherdor @m0nster-fvcker @daemonnix96 @alexxavicry @this-bitch-writes @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @floppapop @loonymagizoologist @cherryvalentine1 @ahookedheroespureheart @lonelyisamyw-0love @twwcs @raven-rk @bitchyglitterfox @ichigodjarin @einno-arko @xbellaxcarolinax @soonknight @romanarose @dameronscopilot @milkymoon2483 @unspokenmoon @campingwiththecharmings @vaderstherapist @oscarisaacsspit @fettuccin-e @mercuryrosesixx @nik2blog @melodygatesauthor @darktealrat @noahspector @dameron-grant-spector @your-voice-is-mellifluous @minigirl87 @annautumnsoul

[angstyaches]

for the sick or treat asks,,, what if we had shayne 🍫... a bit uncharacteristic but that's why i'm interested to see how you might write that! if you're up for it:)

Overindulgence also requested by @wussifer, thank you, my dears! Sorry the emeto isn't shown, I just really wanted some soft Sharlie and Belle.

Sick or Treat Game

CW: mention of emeto, overindulgence (soda; I still don't feel like he's at the point of actually overeating but still really loved the idea of this prompt!!)

___

“Happy Halloween!” Charlie waved as a tiny Jack Sparrow and a ghost sprinted towards where their parent were waiting at the end of the driveway. They stopped to wave again, almost spilling their candy buckets in the process. Charlie lifted Belle’s hand and gently had her wave back, much to the parent’s visible delight.

After all, how could one not be delighted by an adorable little cutie in a pumpkin costume? Charlie was about ready to drop dead out of love for his niece.

“You’re enjoying this far too much.”

A faintly raspy voice made Charlie turn his head as the trick-or-treaters walked down the street. He shut the front door again as Shayne skulked down the shadowy hallway, retreating from the noise and bustle of the living room. He hadn’t brought a costume, but in his usual dark attire, he didn’t exactly stand out. Charlie had wriggled into a cheap plastic clown jumpsuit he’d bought a few years ago, which Ingrid had – characteristically – stored in a box until the time came for it to be used again. He'd thought about doing face paint, but had decided that since Belle was probably still just learning to recognise him, he'd be better off without it.

“And?” Charlie grinned.

Shayne raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall next to the door, as though he intended to let Charlie come up with his own answer. His dark eyes swiveled to Belle, who was elegantly drooling around the tips of her own thumb, and then fixed on Charlie’s face again.

He looked... a little off.

“Hi,” Charlie said experimentally.

"Hi."

Charlie tilted his hip, drawing both arms around Belle and twisting his upper body in the opposite direction, so that he could lean over and give Shayne a kiss on the cheek. He felt Shayne’s fingers softly graze his hip, and Charlie ached with the need to bury his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair.

They’d been behaving themselves all night, due to the fact that they were barely ever out of sight of Charlie’s family; not that Ingrid or Trevor ever made them feel bad for being physically affectionate, but Charlie would rather swallow a spider whole than give Jonathan any excuse to tease or embarrass him. Besides, present moment aside, the thought of doing anything too intense near Belle made him a little uneasy.

“So..." Finger still lightly tracing over Charlie's waist, Shayne cleared his throat. "I threw up."

Charlie frowned, adjusting Belle on his hip again. “You what? When?”

“Few minutes ago.”

After making sure Belle was stable between his waist and his elbow, Charlie laid one hand against Shayne’s cheek, once more inspecting his complexion and the brightness of his eyes. “Are you okay?”

Shayne nodded, pressing his cheek into Charlie's touch. "I'm fine."

“Is it stressing you out? Being here?” Charlie asked, his mind racing as he struggled to recall any signs that Shayne was having a bad time. He’d seemed content enough to listen to Nicole’s complaints about Belle’s sleep schedule, and to Jonathan’s ridiculous ramblings.

“No, it’s fine. I just…” Shayne ran a hand over his stomach, shaking his head. “It... might have been the cherry coke.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

“Every time someone speaks to me, I can’t help drinking more, and people have been talking… a lot,” Shayne admitted, looking like he was working hard to suppress a shiver.

“I'm sorry, lovely. Are you sure you're okay?” Charlie asked again. He gave another glance towards the sitting room door.

Rubbing at his stomach again, Shayne shut his eyes and nodded. "I'm fine."

“Well… want to stay out here with us for a bit? Give away sweets?” Charlie broke into a smile as Shayne eyed the glass bowl that was just about half-empty by now. Whether he looked apprehensive because food was involved, or because he was still being required to be sociable, Charlie wasn’t sure. “You can glare at the trick-or-treaters all you like. Give them your scariest one.”

“Really?” Shayne glanced at Belle, and back up at Charlie. "Scariest?"

“Yep.”

“Can I teach Belle how to glare, too?"

Charlie barely held back a scoff as he turned his head to observe his niece's bright green eyes. She was gazing back at him, head tilted back as though to get a wider view, as though she couldn't get enough of the sight of him just as much as he couldn't get enough of her.

"She smiles way too much,” Shayne observed.

“Only you could think a baby smiles too much.”

They both started slightly when there was a knock on the front door, followed by a chorus of high-pitched voices calling, “Trick or treat!”

With some apparent effort, Shayne peeled himself away from the wall and moved a hand towards the door handle.

“Ready, Belle?” he whispered.

Charlie grinned, hugging his pumpkin niece a little closer.

[transathenacykes]

TOP TEN GAMES I BEAT THIS YEAR

In 2023, I completed 34 games, from Final Fantasy VII to Turnip Boy Commits Tax Evasion to PaRappa the Rapper. These are my ten favorite, in order, and a little writeup of each I had a LOT of fun doing. Enjoy!

10. DARK SOULS

It’s a game I had to want to like, and maybe more than any of the others on the list, I had to meet it halfway. I’m a fan of challenging games, and - stop me if you’ve heard this one before - Dark Souls is pretty hard. But it’s not bullshit. Mostly. I ran into some hard walls here and there, but those walls turned into my favorite fights in the game once I finally mastered them. The reason it’s so low on the list is because the back half is… Well, it’s not very good, folks. Of the four bosses you need to defeat to open the door to the final area, I could call two of them good fights, and I could only do one of those without hesitating. 

9. THE CASE OF THE GOLDEN IDOL

I love a detective game, and what makes Golden Idol really stand out is its incredible format and mechanics. Given a series of still* images, and the contents of a bunch of random people’s pockets, can you determine what happened? It feels cheap to compare games and not just speak about what I enjoyed of a game of its own merits, but I can’t talk about this game without talking about Return of the Obra Dinn, which had a similar sort of ‘fill in the blank’ approach to its mysteries. Golden Idol’s supernatural elements, twists and reveals, and charmingly off-putting art style lend themselves well to one of the most unique games I played this year.

8. SIFU

This is the best rhythm game I played this year. Finding the flow of Sifu’s combat felt like a dance, going from a steady beat to a frenetic scramble in the span of a single missed step. I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m a massive sucker for good movement in games, and Sifu’s jives extraordinarily well with its combat and environments. Really, the only problem I had with Sifu was that it felt a bit short - well, and it didn’t quite deliver the challenge I was looking for, but that’s the fault of whoever described it to me as a Soulslike first just because it has, like… a revival mechanic? Also, the first time it transitioned to a side view for a hallway fight, it basically secured a spot on this list.

7. GHOST TRICK

I tried to play through this game in high school, but got stalled out on some puzzle or another. I honestly don’t remember which, but I’m SO glad I came back to it. I’ve always loved Shu Takumi’s writing and character work in the Ace Attorney series; Ghost Trick is just as good, if not better than any individual AA game in that regard. Really, the characters feel like the ones in the AA spinoffs like Investigations, Great Ace Attorney, or the Layton crossover, which are some of the best characters in the series - but with none of the self-defeating energy of having to be largely unimportant to the mainline games. Also, Missile might be the greatest character in video games ever.

6. PARADISE KILLER

Some games make you fervently pitch their merits to friends, hoping that they’ll play it so you can chat with someone who gets it. This is the fate of many detective games, which live and die in the territory of spoilers. There are detective games that try to get around this by having procedurally generated cases or multiple endings with multiple ‘real’ culprits, which can often be antithetical to what makes a detective game truly sing. Paradise Killer’s answer is that not only is it never going to tell you what the truth is, but that ambiguity is the point. The clues never change, and the only objective is to find a truth that satisfies you. All that is made even better by the premise being steeped in synths and neon, with a vibrantly occult cast who are all just the absolute fucking worst.

5. TEARS OF THE KINGDOM

I mean, come on. It’s Tears of the Kingdom. While I’d really hoped for playable Zelda, what we did get of the character was far more moving than whatever her deal usually is. The chasm was an incredible surprise, and since Skyward Sword is one of my favorite Zelda games, I had a ton of fun with the skydive mechanics. There’s also the building system, which managed the near impossible feat of having things control basically how you’d expect them to once you slapped a steering wheel on them. It felt like there was just so much love for the previous games in the series, without being overly reliant on them. If I had to pick a favorite moment in the game, it would have to be during the Wind Temple’s boss fight, when the Dragon Roost Island theme from Wind Waker cut through the track and made me feel like I could have taken on Ganondorf with a tree branch in that moment.

4. PERSONA 5 ROYAL/PERSONA 5 STRIKERS/PERSONA Q2

Is this cheating? Yes. But hear me out. I knew Royal was going to be on the list, and then it turned out that I liked Strikers and Q2 as much, if not more than Royal. While Royal has higher highs, it also has much lower lows - Strikers and Q2 don’t engage in nearly as much of the weak parts of Royal. But they also don’t function even a little bit without it. Strikers dragged in the gameplay department a little bit, but I loved being able to play as every Phantom Thief - and Q2 was such a vast improvement over Q1 in pretty much every department. So my number four spot on my top ten games of the year is ‘every game I played this year that has Akira Kurusu in it.’ So, since I started Tactica, maybe that counts too… and if you want to be technical, I think I played a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate in June, so I guess that has the number four spot too.

3. ARMORED CORE 6

In 2023, I really and truly entered my mech era. I built Gunpla this year, I started playing in a really fun new Lancer campaign, and I played the shit out of Armored Core 6. I’d never played one before, but I was hooked from the tutorial boss alone. I beat the game once and, at the advice of a few friends, started a new game plus run - and before I knew it, I’d already beaten it again. I’ll do a third run too, at some point. Once I learned the all-consuming power of the pile bunker, I was out there decimating the arena foes like nothing else - and, once I figured out how to time out my missile strikes, I managed to slam through 75% of the final boss’ health in a single blow. That was the single most satisfying hit of this year across any game. Oh, and - keep an eye out, because I have a hankering to write some Maeterlinck-focused fic at some point. Because I sure do love me my one-off characters.

2. SCARLET NEXUS

Up until the final entry swung through and claimed the top spot, Scarlet Nexus seemed like a complete and total shoo-in for number one. Very few games have ever motivated me to complete them to the degree I did this one, including getting all Steam achievements and a ton of the optional content in game you don’t need for that. Kasane and Yuito are endearing protagonists with cool powers, genuine flaws, and vastly different outlooks. There were some plot threads from chapter one I thought had been dropped, but as it turns out they were only really dropped in Kasane’s story, and were far more focused on in Yuito’s, while he didn’t engage with most of her whole deal until the endgame. She spends most of her story dealing with causality and time travel, and he doesn’t even know time travel is a thing at all until there’s maybe 25% of the game left. And at the end, it still manages to feel complete coming from either side. The supporting cast is extremely strong, too, and the way powers flow together make the fights feel dynamic, fun, and tie to the themes of combining disparate people to make things better for everyone - to stop holding onto the past and strive for a better future, no matter how much work it takes.

1. 13 SENTINELS: AEGIS RIM

You should play this game. There’s no two ways about it. It’s a severely underrated title with incredible art, writing, gameplay, voice acting - 13 Sentinels fires on all cylinders. It’s half visual novel walkarounds with the occasional puzzle, exploring the individual stories of the thirteen protagonists across a variety of genres. One character is doing 80s high school movie hijinks with his exposition-loving best friend, while another is trying to solve the disappearance of her best friend. Said best friend is engaging in escapades with a small alien just like her favorite UFO movies, and a fourth guy entirely is doing Blade Runner shit. At one point, there’s a character who has appeared fairly infrequently and finally becomes available to play, and when he appears on the select screen, he’s standing in front of a sea of flames while the other characters typically appear in front of schoolrooms, city streets, their own homes. The emotional beat when you click through and hear him start talking about how he’s proud to be enlisting as a Japanese soldier in 1944 is one of the strongest in the game. Each story weaves around another and provides further depth to events you’ve already seen, while the entire chronological story is combined into a single timeline of events you’re free to look at whenever. But then, on the other side of the game from the character stories, you have the fights - or, rather, the fight. Because the combat side of things all takes place within  pretty much a single day - a grueling, nonstop battle where the characters must drive away wave after wave after wave of invaders without letting even a single one through. Each has their own mechs and certain special abilities that gear them for different scenarios, and if you want to experience everything, you have to bounce back and forth between the stories and the fighting, constantly unlocking aspects of the other. The biggest problem with the game is just choice paralysis - there’s so much to do, it’s hard to know where to start. But once you’re able to bite into it, chipping away at the Gordian plot rewards you with a deeply moving story about the plight of a generation thrust into a ceaseless strife, burdened by the heavy expectations of their predecessors to finally solve it and the even heavier feeling that there just are no answers to find in the first place. And also, there are sick as fuck giant mechs. I told you I was in my mech era this year.

[danpuff-ao3]

Snarry Recs: 2022 Fest Fics

So much good content comes out of fests, and I really do have so much love for the Snarry fests out there! Really doing the work to spread the Snarry agenda, and we have to love and respect it. Plus...how can a gal say no to more Snarry content?? She can't.

I chose 3 from each fest to keep it even and fair, and also to keep it from getting out of hand. But I do recommend checking out the other fics from each fest if you find yourself wanting more! So many excellent fics were posted this year! Please feel free to binge-read them all. (But start with my list because I have most excellent taste 😉) (Also because I really love these fics and need people to love them with me!!!! 😍)

Snarry Adopt-a-Prompt

Certain Dark Things

by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated E. 50k. AU. Slytherin!Harry. 1st person POV. Pining. Seduction. Manipulation. Brief Harry/other. Gorgeous, gorgeous work.

In which Severus takes a trip to Italy, thinking he'll have a quiet time at the Malfoys' villa, but Harry has other plans.

Written for prompt #182: AU. Harry never lived with the Dursleys. He was adopted by the reformed Malfoys as an infant. He is secretly in love with his adopted father's best friend, Severus Snape.

Ghosts of Christmas

by PinaNaponi (@vulnerasanenturmyprince.) Rated E. 45k. Fluff & smut. Hurt/comfort. Found family. Mental health issues. Probably my favorite Nina fic. Really heartwarming and lovely but tinged with sadness and bits of angst.

Prompt #53: Harry visits a recuperating Severus at Spinner’s End at Christmas and ends up learning quite a lot from Eileen, who has been taking care of him.

A story about recovery, ghosts of the past and forgiveness.

Before the Police Were Told

by salazarinadress. Rated E. 24k. Muggle AU. Crime. Witness protection. Homophobia. Angst.

Severus is tired. He doesn’t want to work for Tom, and he doesn't want to be a Death Eater, either. The only thing he wants is for his decades-long ordeal to be over... so it’s just his luck that when the Aurora taskforce asks him to testify and put Tom away forever, it’s for the one crime he can never speak of. The crime that has haunted him for thirty five years.

A fic about Severus; the choices he made, and the ones he never had. About redemption, and deservedness. Also about kissin’.

Snarry-a-Thon

The Potter Phenomenon

by ines_iz. Rated E. 31k. Romance. Homophobia. Coming out. Idiots in love. Coworkers to lovers. Pining. Angst, with a happy ending.

When Harry Potter, queer star of the Wizarding World, returns to Hogwarts as the new Defence professor, Severus Snape is not happy. In fact, he is positively outraged. Not only does Severus have to endure the man's obnoxious behaviour (not to mention his ridiculous sense of fashion), but he also ends up being dragged into Potter's attention-seeking plans — and, ultimately, is forced to face a few demons of his own. Or: Harry Potter Goes Gay (and the entirety of Hogwarts Goes Gay with him)

A Trick of the Mind

by PinaNaponi. Rated E. 40k. UST. Pining. Legilimency. Enemies to lovers.

Ever since the horcrux in his head is gone, Legilimency comes easy to Harry. It’s nearly laughable how easy it is, considering how much he used to struggle with it back in his fifth year. But he reckons half of that had been Snape’s fault anyway. Who on earth would enjoy the nasty git invading their mind?

But as life as Harry has known it changes, Harry’s opinion on the matter changes with it ― rather drastically so if he’s being perfectly honest.

With Aloha

by silvereye5 (@silvereye5.) Rated E. 26k. Fluff. Hawaii. Fun!

Severus and Harry are booked on the same gay singles cruise.

Snarry AUctober Fest

Found

by avioleta (@avioleta.) Rated E. 16k. Postwar. Domestic fluff. Developing relationship. Naked swimming!!!! Sweet & sexy.

The night of the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus Snape disappears and is presumed dead. One day, however, Harry Potter finds him in Italy and...stays.

When Dreams Come True

by maraudersaffair (@maraudersaffair.) Rated E. 10k. Pining. Secret crush. Injury. Bondage. Light d/s. Hurt/comfort. Fun & sweet!

Harry is a world famous Quidditch star and Severus is his biggest fan (in secret). He is also desperate for Harry to dominate him.

The Boy

by themoonandstars1989. Rated E. 2k. Dead dove. Underage. Non-con. Somnophilia. Curses. Imprisonment. Dark Snape. Dark fairytale vibes. Bad dirty wrong!

The boy had grown beautiful — alabaster skin and dark red lips. Snow White personified, waiting for a prince's kiss to wake him up. 

Or was it Sleeping Beauty?

Severus paid no mind to his mum's ramblings. He did not waste his childhood on fairy tales and wishes.

Maybe he should have.

Secret Snarry Swap

Slipping

by BlueSundayCake (@bluesundaycake.) Rated E. 11k. Drug use. Murder. Minor character death. Trafficking. Morally gray Harry. Angst. Sad start, hopeful ending. Gritty and real and I loved it so much.

After Harry takes on a strange case, everything begins to fall apart. Nothing makes sense, and he only has one person he can trust. Unless—? In which Harry doesn't cope very well with life after the war and keeps slipping.

Spy Glass

by suitesamba (@suitesamba.) Rated E. 18k. Seeker Harry. Spy Severus. Voyeurism. Hilarity. (Genuinely, so so funny, oh my god, I love it so much.)

England wants to insure star Seeker Harry Potter and his fabulous broom. Enter Severus Snape, wizarding investigator extraordinaire, ready to calculate risk and assess value. Tailing Harry Potter turns out to be the job of his dreams, though he wishes it could be done without the disguise. A tale of a man’s obsession, another man’s obsession, and a heartwarming ending where everyone ultimately gets what they want – or what they need.

Friends of Dorothy

by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated E. 22k. Bi!Harry. Self-discovery. Fun OCs. Magical creatures. Really enjoyable and happy story.

When Harry Potter sees Severus Snape on a date with another wizard it sets him on a journey of self-discovery that leads to the Friends of Dorothy Detective Agency and a Niffler called Toto.

[narratingvoice]

how much new content do you think it'll take to satisfy the fandom, discuss

(aka this is my own attempt to come on here and say to the Mod: I absolutely love the way you write The Narrator's replies!! they sound so canon istfg reading all of your text posts makes me wanna write or draw smthn (even tho I can't rn since I have both writer's and artist's block help ☠️) like damn I would've mistakened you for the real dude /hj anyway I hope you're doing well in this hellish summer toodlesss)

How much new content? My dear, there is no limit to the amount of new content that people will demand. Even if one person says, "all right, that's enough Stanley Parable for me for the rest of my life", and moves on to other pursuits, there is always another eager to continue. And I can't really blame them, can I? I'm the one who made the tagline of the entire game "the end is never the end". If you feel disappointed that the game is not literally infinite, well too bad, I already got your money. I hope you liked what I gave you. (No really, please tell me. I need to hear the adulation.)

But in any case, you can always rely on your imagination to expand the story ever outward. And many of you have. Just look at this:

From this statistic we can deduce two things: One, the fandom is insatiable for more content starring me and Stanley (and maybe some other, less important characters). Two, they are able and willing to provide it themselves. This is an arrangement that pleases me greatly, because it means I don't have to do any of the work but I still get the name recognition. It's been over a year since Ultra Deluxe released and the brand is still going strong and sticking in people's memory. That means I win! I am living in your head rent-free, as the kids are fond of saying. It means I am loved, and I am remembered, and I am real. Keep going forever!

In fact, if the rate of fan works ever starts to fade away, I'll just drop another remake onto whatever new consoles are out by then, with maybe a few new endings carefully hidden deep within the office, to make people hunt for them. That certainly seems to be working out for Ghost Trick right now and I don't think Capcom added any new content at all. That way we can keep a mutually beneficial cycle of content and attention going.

((thanks so much! It really means a lot because I try very hard to nail his voice. it's been very hot and humid and i hate it. also, play Ghost Trick))

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

An incomplete list of songs I associate with Memory, Heavy in My Heart.

Chapters 1-15:

Hand Me My Shovel, I'm Going In - Will Wood & The Tapeworms

So I'll bookmark my DSM, 'cause I need to remember my place. This is not enough. This is not enough to prove it yet, no I need to hit the bottom. [...] Gotta get to the bottom of this.

Looking up, we see the point of entry between where we are and we've been; looking up, I could say heaven sent me, hand me my shovel, I'm going in.

Admittedly, this didn't come across very well in the final draft, and part of that is down to the framing and variety I wanted to give it. I was initially going to give Ingo a more frenetic energy as he was trying to complete the pokedex, which lessened as he got to know the Pokemon and people in Hisui-- and then picked back up once he realized he was getting distracted. The second portion would actually correspond to chapter 33, and is fairly self explanatory.

Chapter 16:

Cosmic Love - Florence + the Machine

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out. You left me in the dark. No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight in the shadow of your heart.

I took the stars from my eyes and then I made a map. I knew that somehow, I could find my way back.

A little dramatic, but it fit the feeling of being stranded and abandoned in a way I really liked. The second portion was also relevant for later... and another piece is relevant to something else that I'm not going to spoil yet.

Chapter 17:

Ghost (Fred Falke Remix) - Mystery Skulls

No particular lines to highlight for this one, though I suppose 3:43-4:10 would fit. It was more the tone of it, and, to be honest, my own personal associations with this version of Ghost.

Chapters 18-25:

Hidden Highlands - Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Explorers of Time/Darkness/Sky

The word 'highlands' is purely coincidental. I had this on a character playlist, and it stuck out to me for this project, too. It just has a heaviness to it that I really liked for day to day life with the rift and then the red sky hanging overhead.

Chapters 25-26:

Close Encounters - No Delivery

It's just got a weirdness factor to it that I like for the trek across the Highlands, building up to the primary conflict at the Temple of Sinnoh. Unfortunately, I don't think I can really describe it better than that. Sorry!

Chapter 27:

Origin Form Palkia & Dialga - Pokemon Legends Arceus

Sticking with vanilla on this, both because I think it still fits, and it's a really nice track imo. I wasn't initially going to add it here, since that seems redundant, but it felt like leaving a conspicuous empty spot at the story's climax.

Chapter 29:

Jowd ~ A Captive of Fate - Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective

I liked this one for being a little more upbeat without being a happy song; it strikes me as having a sense of 'let's see this through' in some parts, which I think works very well as we're warming up to the final arc. While I don't think it fits this chapter's content perfectly, I did realize in hindsight that it plays during a coat-related scene in Ghost Trick, and I subconsciously connected the dots.

Chapters 30-32:

Crossing a Line - Mike Shinoda

You're not gonna like where this goes. They'll tell you I don't care anymore, and I hope you'll know that's a lie, 'cause I've found what I have been waiting for, but to get there means crossing a line. So I'm crossing a line.

It's not about status, we know it never was, 'cause what good is the kingdom when you're missing the love? This is not a goodbye now, I'm not going away. No, I don't have the answers, but I do have the faith.

This is probably one of my favorites to apply to this story, because I can see it working from at least two different perspectives. For one, I would put it firmly in this range of chapters just based on who/what we're dealing with. For the second (which is the POV that the second stanza would also be relevant to) I would also add 33 to that range. I feel like one POV is obvious, but the other might be a little more out in the weeds.

Chapter 33:

The Suffering Game: Arms Outstretched - Griffin McElroy

This one was baked in from the early chapters. I knew the call on the mountaintop was going to happen basically from the beginning, and felt like this encompassed the range of emotions really well. Maybe it doesn't match up perfectly with the final product, but it's still inextricably linked in my mind. xD It's also something of a bridge in and of itself, but we'll save that for later.

[one-and-lonely16]

“Lance, is this seriously necessary?”

Lance frowned at Keith from down the shopping aisle but it looked more like a pout. He had a pumpkin themed mug in his hand. 

“Yes, of course it is.”

Keith walked over to him. “It isn’t even October yet.”

He set down the mug and folded his arms. “I know that, but this way we get all the good decorations before they’re gone.” Lance gestured to the shelf. “You mean to tell me that these mugs aren’t cute.”

Keith looked over to where Lance had been looking. He had to admit, the little black cat mug was adorable.

“Ok, fair. But all of this stuff is still going to be here within a month's time.”

“And in a month’s time, I will come and buy more. Now, should I get the pumpkin or the ghost?”

Keith shook his head fondly. He had forgotten how invested Lance gets into halloween. In the two years of being together, Lance always made them wear matching costumes for the annual halloween party they had with their friends. And now that the two of them had their own place, Keith had to now help with decorating and preparing for the holiday. He didn’t mind; in fact, he loved it. When he was younger, they never really celebrated halloween so enthusiastically in the foster homes. His dad, however, had loved halloween. He took them trick or treating every year, even wearing a less elaborate costume than what Keith had worn. And seeing Lance’s face light up whenever someone so much as mentioned halloween was worth how long it took him to decide on a costume for them both.

Lance slipped both the mugs he had been debating about into the basket and continued walking down the aisle. He didn’t walk for much longer, stopping on the halloween themed candles and immediately picking one up to smell. His nose scrunched up and set the candle back down.

“Why such a floral smell for a tarot themed candle? Surely it would be more calming,” Lance said, causing Keith to chuckle.

“Only you would have a problem with that.”

“It’s true! When you think of tarot readings do you think of flowers? No! You think of, like, incense and stuff,” Lance explained, trailing off slightly at the end.

Keith grinned and linked arms with him. He nudged Lance’s side with his elbow. “Are you going to get any of them?”

Lance thought for a second. His eyes scanned the shelf before lighting up. He handed Keith the basket and reached out with his now free hand. He brought the candle to his nose and sniffed. His face relaxed and he let out a content sigh.

“Good?”

Lance basically shoved the candle into Keith’s nose. He didn’t need to take a sniff to smell it, it was all he could smell. Keith smiled and Lance brought the candle away.

“It’s pumpkin spice,” Lance said. “I fucking love it. That’s why I headed this way, I could already smell it, I just couldn’t tell which one it was. Do you like it?”

“It’s very calming. Are you gonna buy it?”

Lance scoffed. “What do you take me for? Of course I am.” He leant over and placed it in the basket gently. He tugged on Keith’s arm and they made their way down the aisle some more, Lance rambling about how they absolutely needed to get a halloween themed blanket for the sofa and Keith nodding along, watching Lance as if he hung the stars in the sky. Lance’s eyes lit up as something else caught his eye. He tapped at Keith’s arm and dragged him over to the other side of the aisle.

“Oh my god, Keith, look at these pillows.”

They spent the rest of their shopping trip in that section of the shop, and ended up taking home way too many Halloween themed utensils, pillows, blankets, candles, even this statue of a steampunk cat (“She just looks so cool, Keith!”). As soon as they entered their house, Lance got to work, putting everything in the right places and lecturing Keith about how under no circumstances he was allowed to put the cups they had brought through the washing machine otherwise the design would come off. Then, he made himself a chai tea latte in their new ghost mug and Keith a coffee in their new black cat mug (when Keith mentioned something about thinking it was cute, Lance had dragged them back to that part of the aisle to grab it). The two curled up on the sofa, Keith flicking through Netflix trying to find them something to watch as Lance curled into his side, scrolling through Pinterest at halloween costumes.

“How about a police officer and a prisoner? That’s a classic,” Lance suggested.

Keith snorted. “It’s not a classic, it’s tacky.”

“Well what would you suggest? Matching mothman costumes?”

Keith paused in thought. “Well, now that you mention it-”

Now it was Lance’s turn to snort. “Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know, what about a genderbend bubbline? I could be Marshall Lee, you could be Prince Gumball,” Keith suggested.

“That actually is a good suggestion. Maybe you’re not just a pretty face after all.”

Keith grinned and poked a finger into Lance’s ribs, causing him to giggle and squirm. “Cheeky. Now, what do you want to watch?”

“A movie, preferably. I’m not in the right mood to start a series. Oh! What about something halloweenie?”

“What, like a horror movie? I’m sure they’ve got the Conjuring on here, somewhere…”

Lance scrunched up his face. “I hated that movie.”

“You hate all horror movies. Which is surprising for someone who loves halloween.”

“Mamá didn’t raise no fool who goes messing around with spirits. Especially angry ones. Can we watch something else?” Lance thought for a second before his face lit up when an idea hit him. “I don’t think it’s on Netflix, but what about The Addams Family? I’ve got it on DVD upstairs.”

Keith shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Lance beamed, uncurled from Keith’s side and ran upstairs. Keith grinned like an idiot as he watched him. Once he disappeared, he started setting up the tv and turning the DVD player on. Lance came down a few moments later, DVD in hand. He put it in, grabbed their new blanket and tucked himself back into Keith’s side, sipping away at his drink. Thank god it was a cool day today, otherwise the two would’ve cooked alive under the blanket. The main menu for the film popped up on screen.

“Hey Lance?” Keith said as he selected the Start Movie option.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Lance looked up at him to find Keith already with his head turned towards him with a smile. Lance grinned. He gave him a quick peck. “I love you too, Mullet. Now shush, the film is starting.”

Keith chuckled, knowing that Lance wouldn’t be able to go five minutes without starting up his commentary. That’s fine, though, that’s just another thing Keith loved.

------

i offer u this domestic klance fic fragment in these trying times before i go to sleep

[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[themidnightguardian]

Day 23: Forced to Kneel -- Tobirama (ft. Madara)

Senju Tobirama & Uchiha Madara (established relationship) | Founding of Konoha Era | Content Warnings: mentioned human trafficking, murder via incineration, arson, mild suggestive themes

Whumptober Masterlist

---

His knees slammed into the ground as he was shoved harshly before the lord’s throne, and Tobirama grit his teeth against the jarring ache that traversed through his legs. He may have been forced into the indignity of kneeling before this despicable man, but he would not give him the pleasure of seeing Tobirama’s pain.

“So. The infamous Senju Ghost has been caught at last,” the lord—Habiki— mused, peering down his nose at Tobirama’s beaten and bloodied form. He was a soft looking man, his civilian body rounded and unhardened. Rather than trying to disguise the obvious weakness of his body, he seemed to be flaunting it: lounging back in his chair, swirling a glass of wine in his hand. “I would have thought someone with your reputation might have proved more of a challenge to my guards, but I see that I was right to believe that the rumors of your abilities were greatly overstated.”

In his work as a shinobi, Tobirama had found that there were people he had to kill but did not want to, and people he would have killed for free even if he hadn’t been on a job. Lord Habiki fell into the latter category.

Not just for his insults or his arrogance. No. While irritating, that alone would not have been enough to fuel Tobirama’s ire. The lord’s personality was unpleasant, but it was not what had brought Tobirama here in the first place.

No, he had come because of the children.

Human trafficking had been frowned upon in the Land of Fire for longer than Tobirama had been alive. Not that it never happened, of course, because there were always people willing to cross that line and the truly clever could find loopholes in the law, but it wasn’t happening as openly here as it did in some parts of Water and Lightning Country. The biggest perpetrators tended to be dojutsu thieves and organized crime.

For a lord to be involved—and one of the daimyo’s favored cousins, at that—was unacceptable. It was bad enough dealing with criminals who had some measure of influence in certain circles, bad enough to spend months on end tracking slippery groups of child-snatchers and slavers who only had the barest network of support. If people with actual political power started throwing their influence and money into the ring, it would become a nightmare of a mess.

And worse, it might send the message that trading in human lives was okay. That it was permissible.

Hashirama had agreed they needed to set a hard line and make an example.

“Laughable, really,” Lord Habiki continued, leaning forward in his chair as if to get a better look at Tobirama. “They spoke as if you could walk through walls. Silent as a whisp of smoke. You’ll never see him coming.” He snorted derisively. “And yet here you are, caught in mere minutes by my guards. Though I suppose that could be more a testament of their skill than evidence of a lack in yours.”

It took effort for Tobirama not to roll his eyes. The man’s guards were passable, true enough, but not extraordinarily skilled, and Tobirama hadn’t been caught in “mere minutes” despite what Habiki thought. He’d had more than half an hour to root around for evidence in the man’s office before he’d made his way down to the holding cells in the man’s basement, where he’d found just over a dozen children between the ages of six and sixteen. And he hadn’t been caught there. No, he’d been caught a solid twenty minutes after that while wandering about the man’s bedchambers.

That was the nice thing about dealing with arrogant fools, Tobirama thought as Habiki continued to drone on about his own superiority. It was so very easy to beat them, to trick them. Because they believed themselves to be the exception to every rule. They believed in their own power too much and it made them sloppy.

For instance, if, say, you found and captured a man renowned for breaking into places unseen, you might not bother checking to see if that man was alone. Because surely if he wasn’t alone, you’d have found his companion too. Of course you would have, because haven’t you just proven that you’re so capable as to catch the uncatchable? Haven’t you just shown that no one—not even the infamous Ghost—could slip by your guards?

There was a lesson that Tobirama had learned very young: you must never assume that you have won before the fight is finished. Clearly, no one had bothered to teach Habiki such a thing, or if they had, the lesson hadn’t stuck.

“I’ve never much seen the point of shinobi,” Habiki continued on pointlessly. “Samurai make better, more dependable soldiers. Then there are the typical guards and such for personal defense. In comparison, what use is a shinobi, especially one so easily captured?” But then the lord’s head tilted, eyes lit with curiosity as they flickered over Tobirama’s kneeling form in a way that was distinctly uncomfortable. “Although, if all shinobi look like you, I suppose I could see an aesthetic appeal.”

Tobirama ignored the faint pulse of revulsion he felt at the man’s words. He’d heard worse things after all, the same sentiment in more crude terms. He shoved that to the side and focused instead on the burning-star-ash-warmth chakra that flickered deliberately at him.

Good, Tobirama thought. That means the children are clear.

And that meant it was time to end this pathetic charade.

“That’s half of why it works, you know,” Tobirama said, speaking for the first time. “You think too little of a shinobi’s skills and overestimate yourself.”

Habiki scoffed. “Whatever plan you had didn’t work in the slightest.”

“No?” Tobirama grinned. He knew it was unsettling on his sharp face, and he took some pleasure from the way the lord flinched.

It wasn’t quite enough to cow him, though. “You’ve been captured, you fool.”

“Obviously.” He spoke slowly now, as if emphasizing how utterly stupid Habiki was. “I’m the diversion.”

His main purpose on this mission had been reconnaissance, collecting evidence, and locating the children. His second objective had been to get himself captured so that Madara could get the children out unnoticed. The third objective was to raze the man’s manor to the ground to send a message.

Based on Madara’s signal just a moment ago, they had arrived at phase three.

There was one glorious second where the implication of Tobirama’s words sank in and Habiki’s face paled drastically.

And then—in a feat of miraculous timing that only served to lend credence to Tobirama’s theory that the Uchiha were preternaturally gifted in dramatics—an explosion rocked through the building, heat and pressure shattering the windows that lined the wall behind Habiki. The Lord cowered in his chair and his guards ducked for cover, but Tobirama merely watched impassively as a familiar figure with long, unbound hair jumped up through the window and into the room, gunbai in hand.

It was the work of seconds to kill everyone in the room. Really, either of them could have managed it easily enough on their own, but since the founding of Konoha—and the careful trust that had been built between them through countless hours of ironing out details and negotiating with the other clans—Tobirama found that he enjoyed fighting side by side with Madara, possibly even more than he enjoyed fighting alone. Certainly it was captivating to watch Madara fight without being on the receiving end of his white-hot fire jutsus or the heavy swing of his gunbai.

That didn’t mean Tobirama had to be obvious in his appreciation, however.

After a particularly vicious burst of flame incinerated Lord Habiki entirely, Tobirama raised a brow. “Leaving some remains as proof of death would have been more in line with sending a message.”

Madara’s lip-curled at the smoking pile of ash, and when he turned to meet Tobirama’s gaze, there was not an ounce of remorse to be found. “It sends a message just fine.”

“A little restraint—”

“How,” Madara said, stepping closer, closer, until they were chest to chest, “am I supposed to practice restraint when you were kneeling before another man?”

Tobirama was far from impressed. “I was being held captive, you ridiculous man.”

“No one so undeserving should see such lovely sight.” Madara’s gloved hand traced over the red line on Tobirama’s chin, then the mark over his cheek.

He ducked in quick to brush a chaste kiss to Tobirama’s lips, and then was gone out the window again before Tobirama could fully bring his mind back to focus.

A huff—some mix of exasperation and fondness—escaped him. Uchiha’s and their dramatics. “Idiot.”

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

this is a continuation of the other one

Y/N stares at him for a long moment, arms crossed and poking her tongue into her cheek. “Why do I feel like I'm Ariel and you’re the sea witch trying to get me to sing into a shell?”

Harry blinks once. “Sorry, what?”

“Oh, right, that was—that was ‘89, wasn’t it?” Y/N bites back a laugh at the scowl that rolls over Harry’s expression. “After your time, I suppose.”

But Y/N isn’t laughing when she has to spend the next two weeks braless. And although she spends the first day being petty under Harry’s keen eye, by the third day, she’s turned the predicament around in her favor.

“Hey, Harry.” She says one night, stirring her pot of pasta on the stove as she sips her eleven dollar wine. “I have a question about our arrangement.”

Harry, who has been leaning over the counter to soak in the aromas of the food that he longs to taste (and also to get a look at Y/N’s cleavage in the v-neck t-shirt she’s wearing), cocks his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “If you're trying to reduce your sentence, don’t even try it.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Y/N murmurs, trailing her lip around the rim of her wine glass as she leans against the counter. “I was just wondering if it has to be only braless with a shirt on top, or if I could wear just a bra or bralette.”

Harry blinks once, his mouth falling open in surprise. “I—what?”

“Like, I have this little cotton Calvin Klein bralette, and it’s super comfy, and still gives me some support, but my cleavage and such is still decently on display.” Y/N clarifies with a smug grin, setting down her glass against the fake marble counter as she stretches to reach the spice cabinet. “I think that could fulfill our agreement, no? You know what bralette I’m talking about, right? You’ve probably seen it when you’ve been snooping around.”

Harry looks at her carefully, trying to catch the trick behind her all-too generous offer. He replies in a measured tone, leaning against the fridge as his eyes glue to the way her chest heaves as she teeters forwards on her tiptoes to grab a condiment. “I know the one, yes. Peachy pink, right? With a thick band and slightly ruffled fabric at the center?”

“That’s the one, yup.” Y/N pops the last letter of the word, wiggling her fingers to try and grab the oregano from the highest shelf. “It’s a nice number, I think, and going around braless for so long does my back in sometimes.”

Harry pushes off the barrier he’s using as support, drifting towards Y/N as she stands before her cupboards, one hand propped against the counter to boost herself up as the other fishes for the small container a few inches from the tips of her fingers. He stops right beside her, looking down at her with that same calculating gaze he had across the room. He’s still trying to sus out her angle, but little does he know that what she’s trying to implement is going to work out for both of them.

She’s grown quite fond of the extra attention he’s been giving her, and for some odd reason, she feels a deep sense of pleasure every time she catches him staring at her chest. Maybe it’s the way his eyes glint longingly as he ogles, or the way he’ll chew into his cheek or along his bottom lip or into the side of his finger as he follows the outline of her cleavage, or maybe it’s that when she catches him gawking, he’ll hold intense eye contact with her for a second before casting his gaze away to some other unimportant object.

Maybe it was that one time yesterday where she’d managed to pull an actual reaction out of him. They had been watching a rerun of a Scooby Doo movie, and she could feel his ghastly eyes pinned to her bust, probably because she had lied down on her stomach across her sectional sofa as he had sat on the floor in front of it, so when he turned his head, her chest had been less than a foot away. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had purposefully flushed it against the couch cushion below to make it seem extra plump and appealing, which would have knocked the air from Harry’s lungs if he still had them.

He’d released a soft whimper so broken and needy, Y/N had to fight off a conceited grin to avoid letting him know she was doing this to him with actual intention. She’d pretended not to hear it, but she had allowed herself to indulge the flare of satisfaction that rose from watching him shift his sitting position a bit, as if something were growing heavy between his thighs. His actions had vaguely made her wonder if ghosts could even feel arousal, and if they could, she hoped he was. It was the perfect revenge, because she at least knows that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not with anyone else, at least.

Y/N watches as Harry reaches an arm up, easily reaching the bottle she’s attempting to retrieve. He swipes his hand across the container, the motion managing to knock it off the shelf and into her awaiting palm. She’s learned that in order to touch objects, he has to put in quite a bit of energy and concentration to succeed in breaking through the dimensional barrier that separates the living from the dead. Garnering the slightest contact can sometimes drain him a great deal, so when he does make it his mission to touch something, he does it with as little impact as possible to save his energy for later, in case he wants to grab something for an extended period of time, or grasp a heavier weight that would require more exertion.  

“Thanks.” She smiles up at him innocently, blinking her lashes with a slightly sultry air as she closes the cupboard slowly.

Harry swallows heavily, glimpsing down at where her chest is still heaving from when she’d made a grand effort to collect the ingredient she needed. He hates how his little cheeky plan had recently become the bane of his undead existence, given that Y/N had recently begun using it to her advantage. But he can’t complain, because he’s getting exactly what he asked for. He just wishes he could get more.

His voice comes out low and strained as his eyes coast back up to meet her own, which are dancing with smug amusement. “You’re welcome.”

“So what do you say?” Y/N asks, uncapping the spice and sprinkling a liberal amount into her sauce. “Think we could tweak our deal?”

Harry pulls himself back onto the counter, tapping his fingers against the surface without making a sound. “I suppose.” He replies after a moment, eyes flickering to Y/N’s chest once more as she leans down to taste the sauce. “The bralette should be fine, as long as it’s not too padded.” He shoots her a cheeky grin. “I like a bit of nipple, you know that.”

“You’re gross.” Y/N scoffs, shaking her head as she sets down the wooden spoon on the stove. “I'm gonna go change, then. Watch this for me, will you?”

And Harry does rather diligently, inhaling the flavorful aromas rising from the stove. He wishes, for the billionth time in his thirty odd years of death, that he could taste food. He knows he doesn’t need it, but even just having its essence pass over his tongue would be enough for him. He misses pasta, he thinks, staring longingly at the noodles boiling away on the stove. And pizza, and fish, and steak, cooked perfectly with a delicious side of mashed potatoes and gravy, just pink enough in the middle that it’s still tender—

“You didn’t burn down the kitchen. Good job!” Y/N’s voice calls from behind, and the ghost turns around with a retort on his lips that quickly falls away once he sees her.

She’s put on the bralette just as she said she would, and it’s everything he’s ever dreamed of. The cotton is thin enough that he can see the clear outline of what he wants through the article, and the halter neckline lands low enough that he can see every dip and curve of her breasts. A band of her stomach is exposed beneath the labeled elastic lining the bottom of the fabric, and the soft skin seems to call to Harry, making him desperate to touch it. Y/N’s decided to swap her sweatpants as well, it seems, as she’s now dressed in a loose pair of heather grey shorts that sit above her belly button and barely cover the curve of her ass. The loose legs flutter up with her every movement, and if she were about to bend over just a smidge, he could—

“How’s this?” The girl asks, flicking her loose hair over her shoulder with a simper. “Does it meet the requirements?”

Harry clears his throat, his words coming out as a pained groan. “God, you’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

Y/N sputters into a round of airy laughter, coming to stand before him with her hands perched on her hips. Her tone is innocent, but her true intentions are written clear across her face, obvious in the way her lips twitch with evil delight. “How so? I’m abiding to our terms!”

“You’re giving me the world’s worst case of blue-balls, is what you’re doing.” Harry bites back, his sharp jaw clenching and full lips pressing into a bothered grimace. “And you’re doing it on fucking purpose.”  

“You made your casket, now lie in it.” Y/N states brightly, shrugging her brows with finality.

“Harsh.” Harry mumbles, but he can’t fight off the amused grin that tweaks his dimples into place.  

Harry slips off the counter again onto his feet, not being able to stay still. There’s a peculiar buzzing sensation coursing through each of his ghostly limbs, and anytime he stays put, it intensifies to the point where he feels like he’s going to explode into a shower of static.

He saunters up behind Y/N, looking over her shoulder as she regains her previous activity of mixing the contents in the pot while they simmer their way to completion. Despite not being able to touch her, he can still smell her just fine, and her homey scent of chamomile and jasmine are ever welcomed. She just smells so much like a girl, for a lack of a better explanation, and Harry hasn’t been this close to one his own age since before he passed. It’s driving him to the brink.

“I’d give you a taste if I could.” Y/N's soft, teasing voice echoes against his ears as she cranes her neck to look at him. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Yeah...” Harry locks eyes with her for a moment, and his hand instinctively reaches down to grasp at her waist. Instead of being met with the warm sturdiness of what he knows would be her silky skin, he’s met with the typical icy fizzing sensation that constantly haunts him whenever he tries to make contact with a living being. His digits pass right through her hip, though she barely seems to notice, the only palpable indication of his attempt being a cold breeze wafting across her flesh.

He knows it’s something that is extremely easy to brush off, usually as a simple draft from the air conditioning, given the similarities between the two experiences. And that’s exactly what she appears to do as she gives a light, dismissive shiver, not paying it any mind.

The ghost tries his best to keep his disappointment from registering in his mood, and his tone instead fills with an unreadable emptiness that only he can truly interpret. Below it lies a double meaning, and it has to do with way more than just the general desire to be able to experience the taste of good again; it holds a certain longing that pertains to a deeper type of hunger, but again, only he can truly decipher it. “Yeah, I can only dream of it.”

[fytheuntamed]

🍁 Untamed Fall Fest 2020 🍁

Content creators and appreciators alike are invited to partake in a month-long celebration of Mo Dao Zu Shi in its many forms. For the entire month of October you are welcome to use the above list of prompts to create the MDZS-related content of your choice! Reblogging this post is greatly appreciated, as this will spread the event to more people, meaning more content for everyone! Rules and a written list of the 31 prompts can be found under the read more.

Rules;

You are welcome to participate in as many or as few of the days as you like. Late entries are okay, so If you miss a day but still wish to post your creation for that day, go for it! Just make sure you’ve included the day # somewhere in your post so that I may tag it appropriately.

Although the prompts are fall-themed, creations need not be fall-themed. So long as a connection can be made, it’s fair game.

While this event is titled “Untamed Fall Fest,” any content deriving from any of MDZS’s adaptations is welcome. Content can take the form of a gif, art, video, mp3, fanfiction or other text, edit, meme, or anything else you can think of!

You are free to create NSFW content for the fest, I simply will not be reblogging it to the fyuntamed tumblr as I would like to keep it SFW. I also reserve the right to not reblog any creations I deem offensive, inappropriate, etc.

Do not repost other’s work, regardless of credit given, as the point of this event is for everyone to make their own creations! Additionally, if your creation involves content not directly from the drama, donghua, or manhua, please source it!

Tag your creations as #untamed fall fest within the first 5 tags so that others and myself can easily find it. If you would like to send your posts directly to me, that is also fine.

Have fun!! Any remaining questions may be directed to my ask box!

Prompts;

Mid-Autumn Festival (click here for information on the holiday)

Family

Harvest

Thankful

Lantern

Foliage

Reunion

Lan Xichen (his birthday!)

Nostalgia

Rain

Layers

Change

Fruit

Savor

Golden

Bundle

Falling

Crisp

Windy

Spice

Rustle

Warmth

Letter

Gather

Ghost

Remains

Fright

Decay

Carving

Trick or Treat

Wei Wuxian (his birthday!)

If you liked my original post about the possibility of a fall fest, I’ve tagged you below:

@calystarose, @silverstark, @xiao-powerbottom-xingchen, @chaerinspires, @natstarbuck, @pawsnread, @tegdirbk, @bonnes-the-horse, @yiling-gaytriarch, @sailor-alli, @crow-n-prince, @iwannabearobin, @vilinglaozu, @rainbowegg, @k8srapunzel, @pippn-frodo, @lunatasha96, @ashenlights, @dewdrop07, @literally-a-five-headed-dragon, @highwarlockkareena, @cinnamonmagick, @siochaile, @paragayyy, @lamujerarana, @lolacouldnotcareless, @rapa-onoff, @thirdofjune, @yiqiie, @cherryblossomshadow, @aheartfullofjolllly, @manhasetardis, @needchocolatenow, @martybaker, @rinielle, @agendratum, @glittertimes, @yokohamasonebraincell, @professor-severus-snape, @donna-dot-paella, @vestigialstell, @significanceofmoths, @ricoavalee2, @upowlnight, @explodingsynapses, @2oblivion, @thats-what-sidhe-said, @ahlaishepherd, @fluffyrabbitofdoom