#I was going to go until I started vomiting

[222quinn]

I was told I couldn't leave the table until I eat out my food and sometimes my grandmother would shove the food down my mouth and try to feed me, mine you this is a big plate of food and I was six years old and when I told her I was full she kept on shoving more food and I vomited it out and she beat me.

Living with my dad every time someone goes to dish out food he counts it and I would feel so self conscious and uncomfortable knowing he does that that I just don't eat that day or wait till he's in a good mood and eat, some days I count the meat on my plate so that I know I didn't take too much to make him angry and I don't eat the meaty parts and choose the less skinny, bony pieces in order to not feel like I'm overeating and having him mad cause we're eating all the food and leaving none for him.

Things like cheese and bread he doesn't eat and yet he monitors it and counts it all. I find out his dad did the same thing with him and his siblings so perhaps he was enacting revenge on us and it's not like we were poor, we were middle class and could afford food yet he made us feel like we were poor and the food was limited cause he made it limited and fucked with our heads.

Called my little sister fat when she was averaged weight, called my brother gluttony when he was basically a teenage boy, growing and becoming taller than our dad, only me he was proud of because of how limited I ate.

Some days we drank tea the whole day to suppress the hungry and we were denied breakfast and lunch so it's now a habit to skip those meals.

We use to go to bed starved some days and they would hide away whenever they order out and tell us they had nothing to eat even when we saw the food stuff in the bin, I would smell food cooking late at nights as we were asleep and they would eat and watch tv leaving the dishes for us to wash up.

When I started working my dad would deliberately not cook for me (and I pay for groceries and bills in that house) and I had to cook my own food as I found out him and his wife ate it all out.

I didn't even realize this was abuse until it was too late and by then my eating habit was so fucked I still suffer from it cause of my depression and anxiety. I get so stressed my husband has to beg me to eat something and I cry out I'm not hungry but he still tries and coax me and the second the spoon touches my lips only then my stomach is begging to be filled cause my brain was conditioned to ignore it.

as someone with ARFID i really couldn't care less about the distinction between "picky eaters" and "genuine eating issues." if you are an asshole to someone you see as "just picky" i will never, ever trust you. i've lived through the trauma of being shamed and humiliated for my eating needs.

frankly i think a LOT of "picky eaters" have some kind of sensory problems– autistic or allistic– and shame is never useful. i don't fucking care how annoying you think we are. if you've never lived through the humiliation of being the only one not eating at a dinner table, or having to choke down something disgusting you already know you hate because other people insist you don't know your own body, or getting a hunger migraine in a house full of food because none of its edible to you? you don't understand how awful it is to have food issues.

whenever i see people draw this distinction between being "just a picky eater" and "having a real problem" all i think is, who does this serve? most people don't even know ARFID exists. there are so many undiagnosed autistics, or just people with a variety of issues that aren't officially diagnosed. why do we need a medical label in order to be treated with respect and compassion? why did i need to be diagnosed as autistic for my family to realize the abuse they put me through for years because of my eating habits?

it's such an easy habit for neglected groups to fall into– the idea that a medical diagnosis can save us. that by appealing to the medical/psychiatric industry, we can be protected from abuse and given basic respect and resources. but the truth is that it should never have come to this in the first place. dignity doesn't come from an abled doctor telling you that there's a medical reason for your symptoms. it comes from being a person. once you accept that you need a Good Reason to have your needs respected, you doom yourself to neglecting and abusing those who have your same struggles because they aren't lucky enough to access medical recognition.

tl;dr solidarity with all "picky eaters" stop guilting people for having varying food needs, if we make you irrationally angry that's YOUR problem not ours, and abolish "children's menus" & replace them with simple-food menus for people of all ages

[littlelamy]

you hated how the nobles laughed too loudly, eyes slithering like snakes over silk skirts and bare collarbones, all teeth and rot dressed up in gold. your smile was practiced—sunshine stretched tight—but it faltered the second you felt fingers close too hard around your wrist.

“you’ve been avoiding me, little dove,” the baron of rigdtion slurred, dragging you backward by the arm like a prize carcass. “don’t be coy now, let’s have a dance, shall we?”

you stumbled into him, heart hammering. “please let go. you’re hurting me—”

he laughed, wine-stained, wet-mouthed. “you’re a spoiled little flirt, prancing around in those tight little corsets. you like the attention, don’t you?”

before you could scream, he yanked you closer, his fingers digging deep into your wrist. that’s when rafe appeared, almost out of thin air.

rafe didn’t say a word. he didn’t bark a warning like a proper knight or announce himself with the sharp clap of booted steps. just started with punches.

the first punch made a sound like wet fruit hitting stone. the noble’s nose exploded red, cartilage crunching under rafe’s knuckles. you gasped, stumbled back, hand over your mouth. the baron fell with a cry, and rafe followed, on top of him, fists flying. over and over and over again. the noble was crying now, begging, blood pouring down his face, teeth skittering across the marble like dice.

“rafe—” you called, but he didn’t stop. he was snarling now. red in the eyes, more animal than man. engrossed in the anger of the nobleman putting his on what was his.

“rafe!” you screamed, shoving through the crowd, skirts tearing at the seams. you dropped to your knees, grabbing his arm, tugging. “please—please stop—he’s done—he’s nothing—look at me—look at me—”

he froze mid-swing, chest heaving, with blood on his lips. his knuckles were raw and split, stained to the wrist as he turned to you like he was waking from a nightmare, gaze wild.

“he touched you,” he breathed. “he grabbed you.”

“i know,” you whispered, cupping his face, ignoring the blood smearing your palms. “you protected me. but you’ll kill him, rafe. you’ll kill him if you don’t stop. and i can’t—i won’t let them take you from me.”

his chest heaved, then cracked with a sob or maybe a breath. and he collapsed into your arms, forehead pressed to your shoulder, trembling.

you held him tightly, as much as you could. the ballroom spun around you—guards shouting, nobles whispering, someone vomiting behind a pillar—but you didn’t hear any of it.

“come with me,” you murmured, lips at his ear. “we need to get your hands cleaned before they fall off.”

he let you lead him, limping and blood-drenched, through the servant halls, past the cellar doors, until you reached your private wing. you knocked twice on the third panel beside your wardrobe, and the hidden door creaked open into your secret infirmary, lit with lamps and lined with every salve and oil needed for a princess.

dr. linley blinked behind his glasses. “your highness? oh stars above—what—”

“don’t ask,” you snapped, shoving rafe into the cushioned chair. “just fix him.”

rafe looked at you, bruised, bloodied, and mainly ashamed. “you shouldn’t have had to see that,” he whispered.

“i should’ve punched him first,” you said.

his cracked lip twitched. “milady, you're a danger.”

you grinned, brushing sweat-drenched hair from his brow. “your danger”

“always.”

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[kedreeva]

Silly question but how would you rate different gamebird chicks on a scale of "no brain cells, head empty" to "wait! I think I just saw a thought happen?!"?

You've mentioned before that turkey poults have the survival instinct of a chicken nugget, and I've raised coturnix chicks before which are like...death seeking missiles. Are other gamebird chicks as dumb? Are any recognisably better suited to not immediately kamikaze-ing into the nearest water fountain/single square millimetre of loose tape/one cold spot they can find in the brooder?

Peafowl chicks rate the highest. I know I talk a lot of shit about them, but outside of not eating unless shown the food (which IS a valid survival behavior, for avoiding toxic things in their native environment), they're not prone to doing anything actively stupid. They have great eye sight, they tend to look before they leap (and can fly if they do get into trouble). They have a sense of time ("bedtime" is a concept they have! Every hand raised baby I've ever had has had a strict idea of when they think it's time to go to bed and will scream at me until I agree). They will return themselves to the heat when it's time, I've never had one fail to do this or start screaming because they're on the cold side of the brooder and don't know how to move 1 foot to the left to get warm. I've never had one drown in the water dish even though they get a bowl or are raised outside with a pond/big water bowl. They can coexist with just about any other bird, which is great because their only flaw is they need to be shown food for the first few weeks, and adding something like a chicken will cause the chicken to show them where to eat. And because peafowl are large, all the other babies will follow them around for everything else. For creatures who grew up in an environment where very little (predator wise) can kill them, they're surprisingly adapted to not dying in really stupid ways in captivity. They ARE fragile in other ways (pick up parasites easily), but that's not a matter of stupidity.

Coturnix are so far the worst, and I am including Turkeys in this metric. Turkeys are at least hardy in a brooder setup, even if they are very stupid outside with mom. Coturnix on the other hand have to have a tiny lip to their water dish so they don't get into it and drown or chill (and they still do their level best to get into it, even with the tiny lip where they can barely reach the water, I sometimes check on them and find one Mystery Sopping Wet.... how..... and why...... and also HOW). I have watched one grab a drink of water, throw its head back to swallow, choke, and die immediately. There is NOTHING you can do for them if they fail at drinking water, by the way. If you pick them up too soon after they drink, or any other time, there's a non-zero chance that they immediately panic-vomit any water in their system, choke on it, and suffocate/die instantly so you have to be careful about handling them while they're doing their very best to make that as difficult as possible (and this lovely trait persists into adulthood). They cannot have access to anything they can get caught in/under, I have to put barriers in their cage and not give them a cold spot in the brooder until they're a few days old because they will CHARGE to it and sit there until they die screaming about how cold they are while 1 foot away from the heat. They still throw themselves at this barrier because they can see through a 1mm gap to either side that cold death awaits them with open arms and they desire it so badly. It's why they always look like this:

If you have them standing on your hand they WILL just walk off - nay, run full tilt off - without regard for if there is anything below them to fall ONTO, and they are fully capable of beaning themselves so hard upon impact that they die. I had to find a stuffie that was very light and a stuffie that was very heavy, because a medium weight is just light enough for them to shove themselves into the shavings beneath it and suffocate because they can't get out again, and they will also actively seek to do this. They have to have a solid-sided brooder because if they can stick their head through a gap a) they can probably get out of it if it's just a little bigger than their head and b) they will get stuck in it and break their necks if it's just a little too small.

The vast majority, 99% of them, are extremely easy to raise, and doing a minimal amount of guardianship in their brooder will protect them from themselves, but they do have a deep and abiding desire to be dead, I think, and there will be some you cannot save from themselves. No other game birds/fowl I've raised are like this- not peafowl, not turkeys, not pheasants, not chickens, not bobwhite quail, not even guinea keets... the closest would be button quail and even they are not death-seeking missiles until they're a bit older.

[lostpiewrites]

HEYYY I LOVE UR ACC SHSUDJHSJSJXHCHCSIWKXCJC CAN U TELL IM SO ELATED TGAT I FOUND IT??!!!!! i have a req... So i have this scenario in mind where u and one of some bllk characters ( I have in mind Barou, Bachira, pre wc Kunigami bc hes such a sweetheart and i hope he gets better in the next chapters☹️☹️,maybe even gagamaru haha..., AND whoever u want to add IF U WANT) get in an argument (nothing heated, just a little him scolding u the other way around and it just keeps going) and in the heat of the moment he accidentally confesses (u both like each other) DJDJDDUJSJXJXD I RLLY LIKE THIS IDEA BUT I DONT RLLY KNOW HOW EACH WOJLD REACT?? LOVE U LOVE U TAKE CARE!!!! ヽ( 'ω' )ﾉ

a/n : YESYESYES I CAN TELLLLLL. AND THANK U FOR THE COMPLIMENTT ARRRGHHH ILY TOO. 🩵🩷And ofc i can write, here we gauuurrr~ art credits unknown , also none of the characters in the photo is in the context but i wanted to use it anyways because the photo is 🔥. Also for the context , i didn't make them openly say ily , but made them hint at it with closed words. Lastly , sorry for making you wait this much , i had no time to complete this earlier ; i had to erase gagamaru from the list because it would take me one more day. 😓

Will you just shut up ?

Ft : Barou Shoei , Bachira Meguru , Kunigami Rensuke.

Barou Shoei

He sat beside your bed , an unimpressed mom look on his face. You caught cold and had fever so you skipped school. He skipped the school aswell but it's because your dummass could NEVER succeed to take care of yourself properly. He called you if you would come today and once he heard how raspy your voice sounded , that was it for him. He was in your house , all ready to take care of you.

You were under the thick blanket facing the ceiling, with a package of ice sitting on your forehead. He was there from the start of the day and he knew what to do to take care of a sick person. But being a picky eater who hates healthy food, you felt overwhelmed. You yelled at him for making you eat until you are about to vomit.

"Barou , i have already told you that i can NOT physically handle one more bowl of soup. Do you really think i eat as much as you do ? Stop it would you!?"

"It's your fault you are like this to begin with. I am here skipping school because of you to take care of you and you are complaining ? Do you really think i don't know how much you eat ? Don't you act like you don't eat 3 fcking hamburger menus outside. I have been paying for your food remember ? Ofc ik how much you can eat."

It made you feel both guilty and embarrassed. Guilty that you are making him skip school and embarrassed that he is bringing how much you can eat when it's fast food. But you weren't gonna make him notice that embarrassment. So you kept your "angry" role at him and tried making him guilty.

"I am sick to death here and you are yelling at me ? And you are supposedly taking care of me. What about my emotions ?"

"Oh shut up. It's not like i like seeing you like this anyways. I am scolding you because you are being stupid and i hate how much i fucking miss that laughs-at-everything girl best i have and her idiotic babbles she annoys me with okay ? Now open your mouth."

You didn't open it , but opened your eyes instead. What did he just say ? That he liked your yapping and missed it when you were sick ? It basically was a confession coming from him. You blinked a few times , your blush being more visible at each. But then you smirked , ready to tease him.

"Don't you fcking dare say it. Seems like you are already healed if you can think of your usual stupid , annoying , random shenanigans. Now open your mouth and don't make me say it again."

You opened your mouth for him to feed you the soup. He was ordering you around now but you somehow liked it. You felt giddy and was glad that the blanket was thick enough to cover you kicking and wiggling your feet. Who would say to you that falling in love with your boy bestie would end up like this ? No one. But it felt good to know that the feeling you have held inside for so long for the sake of your friendship are reciprocated. And it helped your healing process by a lot.

Bachira Meguru

You two stood at the entrance to the principal's office. He found himself here again because of his endless pranks around the school. But this time he dragged you too , even tho it was unintentional and all the thing you did was to warn him to stop.

He looked down at his feet ashamedly. If he was alone , he wouldn't care less but now that you are sitting there with him , he felt guilty. And your piercings and accusing glares didn't really help the situation either. You two were punished with detention , nothing too grand at least in his opinion.

After the classes ended , you settled down onto the desk and boredly looked out of window. You were now about to go through a 1.5 hours of detention , and worse you had nothing to study and you didn't even bring a reading book because you would go to shopping after school. So you would just sit down and watch the scenery.

"I have so much better things to do but here i am sitting in a detention because of you , Bachibee. The least you could do was to just fcking sit down properly for JUST ONE period."

"How the hell am i supposed to know that they would punish you with me too ? It's your fault for trying to stop me anyways. Not only you ruined the fun and got me caught , you are now blaming me for what happened. You could have just let me do whatever and you wouldn't be suffering here rn. Karma."

You bit your inner cheek in frustration. You wanted to stop him because whatever he tried was dangerous to do. He was under the influence of his bad friends and would harm himself in the end. But this moron wouldn't understand it. So you kept quiet , not trying to explain yourself further.

"Listen. Don't bother what i said previously. I knew it was dangerous and i understand why you stopped me. But i am sorry that you got dragged with me. Take this ?"

He offered a few snacks as a peace treaty. He didn't know what else to say anymore. He was usually alone here at the detention and didn't really talk to anybody during. But then he blurted out sth that made you wanna go hide your blush. He himself also looked like he also didn't mean to say it and it just slipped out while he was thinking out loud , causing him to blush with you.

"Yk things are more enjoyable with you around , even sth as stupid as a detention. I would like to spend time with you more , probably not here but yeah..."

You chuckled at his offer. Did you just got asked out by your bestie ? Yes. Did you accept it ? Also yes. And that detention turned out to be sth you liked in the end and not despised.

Kunigami Rensuke

You tried. You tried your best to focus on your studies. Not that you did have sth in your mind but the topics were so hard that you kept getting bored and out of focus. You had your bestie , Kunigami , beside you and poor boy has been struggling with your lack of enthusiasm for the past few hours.

You had an exam tomorrow and you knew you had to study. But it was physics and you would rather die than to keep studying.

"Rennn-kuunnn. How about we stop for a little bit ? My head hurts i can't focus ?"

He sighed and bit down on his lips to not curse your entire existence and family line. Was he successful ? Nope.

"Listen y/n. I have been trying to explain things to you instead of studying myself and we couldn't even finish the first topic. THE FUCKING FIRST ONE. We had given a break just about 30 mins ago. Can't you at least put some effort in learning ?"

His words stung , because it was the truth. You weren't purposedly trying to make him busy with you but you didn't wanna accept your fault too.

"You were the one who suggested to help me with my studies. And you are the ond complaining now ? If you didn't have time , why did you offer it in the first place ?"

He sighed again , the type that made you regret everything you have said and wanna go hide in shame.

"y/n , my stupid bestie. I don't wanna see you fail and get upset like always okay ? You look terrible when you ugly cry after a failed exam. Besides , I always have time for you. But it looks like i am putting in more effort than you are. That's what makes me mad."

Nothing he said mattered afterwards. "I have time for you always." That's what will be stuck in your mind for the rest of the studying session now. He didn't probably put in effort for his sentence but he did confess , unintentionally. You looked at him with a small shy but lovestruck expression. Afterall , even tho the exam is tomorrow the studying can wait right ?

[snurtsnurtcreations]

The Ghost in the Moors

Johnny Mactavish x Simon Riley x Reader

Hey y'all, enjoy my most recent, incredibly persistent brainworm that's resulted in this word vomit. Heavily heavily inspired off the vibes of The Secret Garden and Jane Eyre

Warning: I wrote a sad ending for this one. Major character death y’all, so watch out.

The distinguishable gentleman Mactavish has at long last taken a wife. His heart is not truly in the marriage, but that is perfectly understandable for a man of his standing in high society. (He’s never been so listless before his dearest friend, Simon Riley, died- but those are just the whispers of his staff). He is not cruel or particularly dismissive of his wife, but… it is clear he does not care much for you either.

Not minding much, you take on the duties of the estate admirably. The staff all respect you greatly, and you find fulfillment in many a task surrounding the care of the grounds. Regrettably, however, you do end up falling in love with your husband from the glimpses of him that you get interacting with the staff, with animals, with children… You’d wanted to avoid catching feelings for him when you knew from the get-go that this was a marriage of convenience, but there is a true goodness in him and a charm just past the deep gloom that settles on his countenance.

The thing is though, the Mactavish estate holds a secret. Late at night one might hear a haunting howling. On the dreariest of days, when the fog lies thick and curling over the moors, you’d swear there was a dark presence wandering the grounds. And no one dared enter the abandoned walled-off garden. There is great evil brewing there, the staff would say. It was never particularly dangerous before that one night that… oh, well, they really shouldn’t say.

You start trying to investigate into this mystery. How could it be that there is a whole garden, a plot of considerable size, that no one had access to? What is it that all the staff are nervously tipping-toeing around saying? And why are all past accounts of an energetic and joyous Johnny so false in the face of the cold, impassive character in the present day?

One stormy day, they take in a group of people passing by to provide them some refuge until the storm passes. One of them, an old woman, confidently claims there is a ghost in their midst. The crack of lightning and thunder immediately following her statement does not lend itself well to the doubt of such a statement. Neither does the nervous silence of the staff. Johnny, however, is adamant that such talk is nonsense.

Later, you take the old woman aside, and ask more about what led her to such a conclusion earlier. The old lady just pats your hand and cheerfully says, “Because I am a witch, dearie- I have a sensitivity to these sorts of things.”

You decide far be it from you to question an old lady, but ultimately you do not take much stock in her words. (Though, you make note in your mind, you may not believe it to be true, but you certainly don’t believe it entirely false either…)

You spend your days occupied with the goings-on of the estate, but occasionally you go for a walk around the grounds, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by rolling hills and nothing but moorland and some sheep in the distance.

A horse comes galloping down the road, and the rider brings it to a full stop as he nears you, the horse rearing it’s head at the suddenness, it’s hooves clipping against the ground anxiously. It’s Johnny. He seems surprised to see you.

“What are ya doing all the way out here, my lady?”

“Simply out for a stroll, my lord.” You answer, confused.

“Is that where you’ve been disappearing for hours? You’ve got all the staff on edge.”

“My apologies, my lord, I hadn’t meant to-“

“Just let them know when you go out next, is all.” And that concludes the conversation. His expression hardly changes as he gallops back out to whatever business he must attend to.

His back and forth attitude confuses you. Just this morning you saw him jump up from the breakfast table to go see to an injured lamb on his property, but now here with you he is cold and impassive.

Still you make attempts to connect with him, and dutifully continue doing your countess tasks.

When one day you ask Johnny on an evening stroll about the garden, what starts as an innocent question becomes a full blown argument as he gets increasingly more upset and angry at you. You cannot for the life of you understand what is making him so irritated about it- you just wanted to know more about this garden!

“Fine! You wish to know about the garden? Let me show you the garden.” He snarls in his fit of rage and grabs you by the wrist. You stumble after him as he stomps to the walled garden, brushes aside the vines to reveal a door and lock that you would otherwise have never known was there. He pulls a key off a chain around his neck and slams the lock open, yanking you into the garden.

The thing is, the sun is setting, the sky darkening rapidly- likely due to the dark clouds brewing on the horizon, inching closer and closer with the strong winds. You are entirely uneasy. The last thing you’d wanted was to see this garden in such conditions, with Johnny in such a rage. For the first time in your stay here, Johnny’s made you truly afraid as he guides you deeper into the garden. You softly plead for him to stop, to slow down, but your pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.

The garden is so large it’s practically a forest of its own. The plants are so overgrown, the bushes towering over you may as well be walls, and the vines and roots taking over the ground seem to make it their mission to trip you up. Already you have lost sight of where the door was.

“Here. Here is the god damned garden.” He says as he tugs you even deeper into the foliage. Your foot snags on a root, and this time you fall to the ground. Your fall causes him to pause a few steps ahead, and you wonder if it might have pulled him out of his episode. But then he turns to you with a manic grief-stricken glint in his eyes, spreading his arms out demonstrably. “Is this what you wanted to see so badly? The ruined remains of whatever good I’d had?” Johnny roars.

You can only stare up at him, teary-eyed and confused. He opens his mouth to say more, but the wind makes a whisper noise akin to what you’d swear sounded like someone saying “Johnny…”. Both your heads snap towards the sound. You see nothing but the swaying branches, but Johnny’s sharp inhale has you turning back to him. His face is pale as you have never seen it before, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“No, no…” He whispers. Never had you seen such deep terror in anyone’s face. Just as you are about to ask what is the matter, he turns and sprints away as though he had all the hounds of hell on his tail.

“Johnny!” You shout in alarm, but by the time you have risen to your feet, he is already out of sight. You run in the same direction he took, but it is difficult to navigate the garden, especially now that the sun is gone and darkness coats everything. Branches slap painfully against your face whilst your hands are busy hiking up your skirts, so you drop one side to shield your head. “Johnny!” You shout again, with a growing panic as you realize you don’t know where he went or where you should go to exit the garden.

Nothing answers back except the howling of the wind.

You come to a complete stop. You cannot even hear any sound of Johnny’s movements. Looking around provides you with no clues for where to go. Your breath hitches, but you bite down your panic and steel your nerves.

“Alright,” you mumble to yourself, “alright, no need to panic. I must simply find one of the walls and follow it until I reach the door.” With your newfound inkling of bravery, you set off in one direction, attempting to keep as straight a line as you can with the bushes and trees in the way. A nearby owl taking off nearly makes you jump in fright, but you push onward. Just as you reach a wall, setting a hand on the stone bricks with triumph, the first drop of rains hits your nose.

Your spirits take a swan dive as the heavens open up a torrent of downpour. You try to hurry along the wall, but it is difficult to do when there are huge swathes of overgrown plants that you must find a way to step around, then find the wall again. It is only when it starts to rain so hard that you can’t keep your head up without droplets obscuring your vision that you decide to perhaps wait it out a little. You find the largest tree within your limited line of sight and hug yourself close near its trunk. Underneath the canopy of the tree, the rainfall is lessened, allowing you to see just how hard it is raining outside the cover of the leaves. You let yourself sink down to the ground when shivers start to wrack your form and the rain shows no signs of easing up.

You sniffle miserably. If you let a few tears loose, well, who would be any the wiser whether the droplet down your cheek originates from the sky or your eye?

“I’m so stupid.” You murmur despondently, “Never should have brought it up in the first place.”

But you still when it feels as though a hand is wiping your tears. You turn to the source and see- nothing. And yet the warmth along your cheeks is undeniable. Some unseen hand slides down your hair and settles a warm, warm palm against the back of your neck. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes searching for someone who is not there.

“Don’t give up…” A voice whispers, “Take care of him.”

You blink the tears from your eyes, wiping the remaining wetness off your cheeks.

“Alright.” You take a steadying breath, “I- I will.” And your voice carries true conviction, because truth be told, you would have kept taking care of Johnny either way, for your love for him runs deep, even though today has not been the first time you’d thought perhaps it shouldn’t run so deep.

An approving hum, and then a feeling akin to being embraced. You allow the warmth to seep into your skin, to chase your doubts away, your hands hovering in uncertainty.

“Who… who are you?” You whisper. The warmth pulls away.

“Only a ghost.” Is all the answer you get. Then there is a distinct emptiness in the air, and you feel as though whatever presence was here has left now, yet you still ask,

“But what is your name?”

No answer.

You rise and look around. The rain is not as heavy as it was before. You set back off to follow the wall, when you hear an anxious voice calling your name from somewhere within the walls of the garden.

“I’m here!” You answer. Soon Johnny emerges through the foliage, looking entirely guilty, but relieved to have found you. He hurriedly wraps a cloak around you.

“I’m so sorry, my lady, I- I never should have brought you here, let alone have had the impudence to leave you in the dark unaccompanied- I am truly- truly sorry.” He stumbles over his words, worried eyes examining your form.

“It’s… it’s alright, my lord” You let him wrap your hand round his elbow and lead you out of the gardens. Despite the darkness and overgrowth, it seems he knows exactly where he’s going. “You looked terrified when you fled- what was it that sent you away in such a hurry?”

“Perhaps that old woman was right.” He says in a hushed tone, like a confession, “For a moment, I could have sworn I’d… seen a ghost.”

As you approach the door to the garden, you think it could very well be true- in the corner of your eye you catch sight of the large ghostly form of a scarred man, fading in and out of reality.

Following that day, you keep your promise to the ghost, caring for Johnny in whatever ways you can, making sure everything in the estate runs smoothly, having food be brought up to him when he misses his lunches, being a comforting presence in the evenings in the library when the fire runs low and it is obvious he is restless with the silence of the house.

He has even begun speaking to you a little about his past, which you’d like to think is because he’s warming up to you, but rationally you reason it is more likely because he still feels guilty for his actions that day. Sometimes he speaks of his old friends, men he had served in the military with when the war had been ongoing. Once he’d confessed that the garden was a gift to his old love. You hadn’t pried, but you could tell this old love of his was still enduring to this day, his face struck with grief as he spoke of it. He’d soon excused himself to retire for the night, as though suddenly remembering it’s you he was speaking to.

During one peaceful evening, you had gently asked permission to restore the garden. He had seemed uneasy with the idea, but then schooled his expression to appear nonchalant, and shrugged you off with a “sure, why not?”. His reaction had almost made you take back the offer, but then your mind flashed back to the ghost, and you felt in your bones that it would be better in the long run to set the garden back to it’s former glory, in honor of whoever it had been initially made for.

It became your personal little pet project. You did not include the staff in this effort, your gut warning you against it, as though the inclusion of others would somehow desanctify the garden. So bit by bit every day, you would go in and weed and trim and do what you could on your lonesome. Many evenings you’d be found in the library reading up on gardening books, and often you’d question the local farmers on plant caretaking - you would have asked the gardener of your estate, but it turns out you didn’t have one. The staff had told you Johnny had never bothered replacing the previous gardener. When you’d asked what happened to the previous one, they all fell silent.

There were days you knew you were not alone in the garden as you tended to the plants and cleared pathways. Somehow you could always tell when the ghost would come to join you, unseen though he was. Sometimes his eyes digging into the back of your neck, other times his hands brushing some plants away to reveal your misplaced trowel.

Eventually, perhaps once it became clear to him that this isn’t some passing fad but a permanent routine for you, he begins conversing with you. Just small quips at first, a ‘that one’s a weed’ here, a ‘don’t trip’ there. You always respond with a thank you, and try valiantly not to pry with all your burning questions. As time goes on he speaks more. He has a habit of telling you silly jokes (ones a proper lady probably ought not to laugh at) that have you giggling while you’re weeding. Oftentimes he starts talking about a specific plant and how best to care for it. You listen closely, enraptured by his vast knowledge, and even start bringing a journal to write down notes. (Sometimes he huffs out a laugh when you write something down with wide eyes, though you’re uncertain whether that was actually a laugh or just a gust of wind sweeping over your hair). On especially foggy days, you can nearly see him fully- which you’d think would be counter-intuitive, but it is almost as though the fog lends him form. It does not last long though, only a flicker and then he is a disembodied voice once more.

Every once in a while, you hear Johnny approaching the garden door while you are inside. The ghost always falls silent when it happens, and it feels as though all three of you are holding your breath. But always Johnny pauses by the door, stands for but a minute, and retreats back. The ghost becomes much more reserved after Johnny leaves, not joking any more nor speaking as much. It takes a few day’s time before he opens up again.

Sometimes, though rarely, you admit to the ghost how deeply in love you are with Johnny. He answers with a knowing chuckle, saying “He’s easy to love.” The ghost will let you wax on poetic about little moments that made the yearning in your heart pulse like a blooming bruise. How he handled a tough situation with the servants, treating them fairly and compassionately. How he scaled up a tree in town to get a farmer’s cat down, effortlessly climbing up the branches and gently cradling the cat. The way he looked at you over dinner with those piercing eyes of his, how the light catches in them so handsomely. The ghost only sighs wistfully, as if he shared your yearning all the same.

“But I know he dislikes me.” You confess, “He still longs for his old love, the one he built this garden for, and resents me for taking the place of his beloved. I feel he wishes he had never met me, let alone married me.”

“Don’t say such things,” The ghost answered sternly, “Though he is swallowed by grief, he still cares deeply for you.”

You didn’t believe him, but you let him have the last word, returning to your work.

When not gardening or taking care of the estate or watching out for Johnny, you start an even more private project- researching into who the previous gardener was. The servants’ hush when you had asked about a gardener piqued your curiosity- it felt like the first real clue to solving the estate’s mystery. You tried finding records of why he isn’t in the estate any longer, or even simply records of his employment, but there seemed to be no trace, not even a name. Either the records had been destroyed or Johnny kept them locked away- and the last thing you wanted was to send Johnny into a rage again for prying. (You may have forgiven him, but the mind does not forget so easily- just the mere thought of overstepping made you incredibly uncomfortable- and he never acted that way with anyone else, so, really, it’s you who was the problem. Perhaps his dislike of you is more than that, perhaps it is a hatred?)

You reach a disheartening stopping point in your research when you can find no more. That is, until Duke Price and Lord Garrick give your husband a visit. They are some of the old military friends Johnny’d spoken of previously. Entertaining your guests in the parlour, the topic of your work in the garden is brought up. A somber hush falls over the men. A true tragedy the gardener met his demise, they say, he was a good man. One of the best. They pour out a drink for their fallen friend. Johnny asks that you give them a moment of privacy, so you oblige. (Heavy-hearted though you may be).

You learn his name that day. Simon Riley.

Later, you are hesitant to bring it up in the garden, but… you are burning up with questions, and perhaps, perhaps this once, the ghost might answer.

“Do you know…” you begin hesitantly, but stop uncertainly. He hums for you to continue, so you gather together whatever scraps of bravery you have, “Did you know the previous gardener of this place? A Mr. Simon Riley?”

The air grows still, a tense silence falling over the area. Then,

“Of course I knew him.” The ghost says, his voice soft and sorrowful. An invisible hand tucks a hair behind your ear, “For he and I are one and the same.”

You take in a sharp inhale. Your hands twist the fabric of your skirts.

“May I call you by your name, then?” You ask quietly.

His answer is whisper-soft, a shuddering concession, “Yes.”

“Simon. Simon Riley…” You say it slowly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your tongue. And then his form fades into view like never before. Still slightly transparent, but now he is here, directly in front of you, and so close, so close you could reach out and cradle his face, and his eyes, oh his eyes, they are so full of longing and woe. “You are… beautiful…” You breathe.

He flinches, taken aback, eyes wide.

“You can… see me?” He asks, astonished. You can only nod in response.

He refuses to answer any more of your questions that day, and instead waits to see how long this bout of visibility lasts for. From that day forward, you can see him at all times, though some days greater than others. Some days he is barely an outline against the garden walls, and other days you can see him as clearly as if he were alive and real. Those days it is only your hand phasing straight through his body when you try to set a palm on his shoulder that breaks the illusion.

Since he will not answer your questions, you turn to other means, now armed with a name. You look through public records, and find a cemetery with his name, and then an obituary that stated he had died in a fire. You shudder at the thought of it, pained on his behalf. What a horrid way to go. But there are no further details on what caused the fire nor where it had happened. Was it on the battlefield? Was it in the grounds of the estate?You find no further details.

You return to gardening and your countess duties.

There finally comes the day that Johnny approaches the garden door and instead of leaving, creaks the door open. Your conversation with Simon had fallen silent the moment you heard Johnny’s steps once more, but when the door had opened, you and Simon exchanged a surprised, excited glance.

Johnny stood within the doorway, looking around with equal parts amazement and heartache, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed. It made you suddenly realize just how much progress you’d made after all this time. The garden looked nothing like when you’d first seen it on that dark night. The flower beds were thriving, the bushes cut back to a respectable size, the vines no longer encroaching plants and pathways but rather providing a delightful contrast to the other foliage. Deeper in the garden there were still pathways overgrown, but for now you had completed a commendable amount of work.

A couple steps in, and Johnny was turning his head this way and that to take it all in.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” You greeted him.

“Good afternoon, my lady.” He parroted back. “You… really have been busy in here.”

“Yes, I’ve grown quite fond of the garden. I hope I have done it justice, though I have not seen it in its golden days.”

“You’ve done… remarkably well in restoring it.” Johnny murmurs. “It looks almost… like…” He trails off.

“Like…?” You echo. He shakes his head, as though breaking from a reverie.

“It looks almost identical.” He says, but you feel like that is not quite what he meant to say initially. While his attention is elsewhere, you exchange a look with Simon. Simon seems quite familiar with Johnny, and perhaps what Johny might have meant, shaking his head wryly.

That leads you to wonder why Johnny can’t seem to see Simon. If he saw the ghostly figure besides you, surely he would have said something? If it was Simon that had made him flee the garden that first evening here, would it not stand to reason that Johnny knows something about Simon’s demise, and is perhaps more qualified than you to be able to see his ghostly form?

But Johnny says nothing, and his eyes never stop on Simon as he glances around.

“It’s… good to see the place be put in order.” He says primly, then moves to leave, “I will see you at dinner, my lady.”

You say your goodbyes and watch as he makes a swift exit. You and Simon listen as his footsteps become more and more distant. Then you crumple in on yourself.

“Ohhh, he hates it, he hates what I’ve done to it.” You bemoan miserably. “I’ve besmirched the memory of his lover and now he despises me all the more.”

“What! Are you daft?” Simon exclaims, “That was him saying thank you, stilted though it may be.”

“Don’t lie to me, Simon, you saw him! You heard his tone! I am an imposter in this garden, in this household, and he will never accept my being here.”

Simon grips your shoulders, meeting your gaze seriously, and it is the first time you have ever seen him look so angry.

“Don’t you dare speak that way. You, you shining, quaking thing, you belong here most of all. He cares for you, I know it.”

“No you don’t, no you don’t. You don’t see us in the house, Simon, you don’t see our dinners- he barely speaks to me aside from polite conversation and those few times he’s had a drink and forgets that it is me he is speaking to. There are times he looks at me and I can tell, it isn’t me he is seeing, not really.”

No matter how much Simon swears up and down that you’re wrong, nothing he says can change your mind. You depart the garden that day with a heavy heart, feeling as though you had said far too much to Simon, added onto his already heavy burden with your own trifling sorrows.

Weeks go by and nothing really changes. The sun sets and rises, the skies continue to be plagued by grey clouds, the heather blooms purple over the moorland. You busy yourself with the garden and making preparations for your head maid to visit some family, which meant reworking certain schedules, and Johnny busies himself with the business and the farmers in the area.

Then one day you happen upon a tattered letter. It slips out of an old book you had reached for in the library. The book had looked worn and well-loved, so you had reached for it out of curiosity, when out dropped a lone letter.

You read over it once, twice, thrice… then sank into the window seat with a hand over your mouth and wept, eyes tracing the words over and over again.

It was a letter addressed to Simon, from Johnny. There was evidence of old tears on the paper. The shaky strokes of the pen were visible in every word- every word a confession of love and regrets. Every other word was an apology. Sorry for leaving Simon in that town alone, sorry for not getting to the burning building fast enough, sorry for not confessing his love properly while he was alive. An account of all the sweet moments the two had that he would miss forevermore, and a single final ‘I love you’ finishing off the letter.

The dots all connected in your mind then. The love they shared, the garden that was built, the yearning glances and longing sighs- the burning house, the deep regrets, the haunting, the listlessness. It was a vivid picture painted in your mind, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for there to be some happy ending for them. Your heart ached for their love story cut short, burned with your love for them.

You tried to compose yourself and set the letter back into the book, but then your eye caught on the inscription on the cover page of the book.

‘To my dear Johnny, I may not be the best with words, but I would borrow from all the poets in the world if only to see your smile.’

You stifle the sudden sob that bubbles up your throat, and flip through a couple pages of the book- all of it lovingly annotated, certain phrases underlined, notes in the margins of some pages. You gently, ever so carefully, fold the book closed and set it back in its place on the shelf.

That night all you can do is weep for the two.

But surely there must be something you can do? Simon may be a ghost but he is still here- that has to count for something, right? But then might he disappear if his regrets are laid to rest? You’ve read somewhere that ghosts are only souls that have unfinished business in the world of the living… You do not know enough about the supernatural to say anything for certain.

So you track down the old woman who’d first said there’s a ghost in the estate. She said she is a witch, did she not? Surely she might have some solution, something that could help? When you reach her little cottage and tell her all that has happened, all you have learned, you are not quite as composed as you’d thought you would be, instead kneeling at her side and telling your tale like a beseeching child, with tears sliding down your cheeks. The old lady strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Oh, my child… there is little that can be done when one is dead.” She says regretfully, “There is a balance in life, you see? One cannot bring back a life without giving something back in return of equal measure.”

You glance up sharply, eyes wild.

“A life for a life, then? It is possible?” You ask. The old woman is taken aback.

“Well, yes, but…”

“I could turn in my life for Simon’s? They could be happy together again?”

“It is… possible. But, child, what of your happiness?” She asks earnestly. You pause, contemplate. Then shake your head, determined.

“I would be overjoyed to see them reunite. That is my happiness.”

And so the plan is hatched. The witch needs some items of import to make the spell work, which you are able to obtain with some sneaking around. The difficult part is the spell must be done where the ghost’s presence is tethered. You aren’t certain where that may be until she starts asking where you tend to see Simon most often and where is his form most sturdy and visible. Then it becomes obvious to you it must be in the garden, so the issue lies in sneaking her out to garden with everyone none-the-wiser.

In the few days leading up to the spell, you become more withdrawn. Simon catches on quickly to the change, but chooses to let you keep your secrets. To your surprise, Johnny also seems to notice a difference in you, and unlike Simon, he is persistent in trying to figure out what might be the matter. With each passing day it becomes more and more difficult to brush him off.

But soon the night of the ritual is upon you. You sneak out of the house in your silky gown with naught but a single candle, and meet the old woman near the entrance to the garden.

Simon is instantly upon you, questioning and inquisitive as the witch sets everything up.

“What… what is this?” His face is grim.

“I’m bringing you back, Simon.” You answer lightly. His eyes widen at the realization as the witch starts chanting, cutting your palm open.

“No. No, stop this immediately!” He reaches for you, to pull you away, or push you back, but his hands phase right through you. It is one of the nights his form is weakest, and you’d purposely chosen today for that reason. “Don’t you dare. I need you here- we need you!”

You only send him a soft, doleful smile, taking a vial from the witch’s basket.

Panic sets on his face as he realizes he cannot stop you. His ghostly form disappears entirely, and part of you is glad you will not have to see the pain in his eyes when you go.

Simon had gone to get the aid of the only one who’d be able to stop you. He used all his strength to appear before Johnny, who’d been at his desk, writing ‘neath the candlelight. Johnny startles and watches, mouth agape, as Simon shouts at him to save you, that you’re in the garden, about to die.

That gets Johnny up and sprinting down the stairs and out to the garden, his shirt billowing in the window, his hair askew. Simon is right behind him, though his form fades in and out of existence. They burst into the garden, footsteps skidding on the dirt.

They are too late.

Johnny grips Simon’s arm in his shock, chest heaving, and Simon’s frame is sturdy, solid, alive as he supports him. Your body is still and motionless on the ground, your face pale, lips parted, eyes open but unseeing. The moon illuminates the scene, an unwilling witness to the tragedy that has befallen.

Simon sinks to his knees while Johnny cradles your limp body. There is nothing they can do but weep.

[felixcloud6288]

I finished Made in Abyss Season 1 and here are my thoughts

Starting off, it's kinda crazy watching this while going through Dungeon Meshi. Both stories are about a party trying to reach the bottom of a subterranean location.

In Dungeon Meshi, we mostly follow the perspective of the main protagonist Laios who portrays the story as an action-adventure comedy. We also periodically follow the perspective of a secondary character named Kabru who instead portrays the story of Dungeon Meshi as a survival-horror. But even when we see the world through Kabru's perspective, we're expected to continue viewing the world as a comedy. Made in Abyss is what Kabru thinks Dungeon Meshi is.

Made in Abyss takes place in and around the titular Abyss. The Abyss is an impossibly deep cavern filled with relics and strange creatures. People make a living delving into the Abyss, discovering relics, and researching the Abyss. However, the further down you explore, the more dangerous it becomes to ascend back up. There are delvers of various ranks signified by the whistles they carry. White Whistles are the highest rank delvers and are permitted to travel as deep into the Abyss as possible.

The story revolves around Riko, an orphan girl training to be a delver. She's the daughter of a white whistle named Lyza who went down into the Abyss and hasn't returned in years. One day, Riko finds a robotic boy she names Reg and later, a delving team returns to the surface with Lyza's whistle and a set of notes. When Riko is permitted to look at the notes, she finds drawings of a boy who looks like Reg and a note saying "I'm waiting at the bottom of the Abyss". With these two things in mind, Riko and Reg decide to make a journey to the bottom of the Abyss, which they both admit is ultimately a one-way journey.

Made in Abyss is considered one of the best anime series of the 2010s by multiple sources and I understand why. It's both visually beautiful and has an amazing soundtrack. On several occasions, I thought I was watching a movie. The main reason I decided to watch Made in Abyss was because I had stumbled across the OST and couldn't stop listening to it.

The Abyss is a hauntingly beautiful land. It is nature unbound and allowed to grow as it sees fit. There is wonderment at every level. Ancient ruins dot the Abyss and only add to that wonderment. And the animation and music capture that sensation.

When I first listened to the OST, it gave me a sense akin to discovering something beautiful by accident that makes you realize how little you've truly experienced. And seeing the OST in its intended use made it even better. I'm looking forward to continuing just because some of my favorite tracks haven't actually appeared yet.

The series has a bit of a slow start. The first season is 13 episodes and the journey through the Abyss begins at the end of episode 3. More importantly, the series does not truly show you how graphic it is willing to get until episode 10. There are early signs to it not shying away from nauseating imagery, particularly the willingness to show characters vomiting or peeing in fear, but everything from episode 10 and beyond is a whole other beast.

I said at the beginning that Made in Abyss is what Kabru thinks Dungeon Meshi is, but the first 9 episodes are a mostly cheerful tale of two children exploring the unknown mixed with some periodic adrenaline-pumping moments where they encounter dangerous creatures. But we're constantly told that ascending back up the Abyss is dangerous. We get little snippets of what happens beforehand, but episode 10 is where we're shown that this is a survival-horror disguised as an adventure story.

If I could change anything about the pacing, I would just make sure the first episode shows us something just like what we see in episode 10 because it's not fair to a viewer to wait 10 episodes to realize they can't handle what can happen.

I can understand if a potential viewer is unable to watch this series because they can't handle the kinds of body horror Made in Abyss shows. But if you can endure it, this is a beautiful story. I ended up crying half way through the season finale.

There's one final thing I want to talk about but it delves into some spoilers for the end of season 1.

Just because I made the Dunmeshi comparisons, I want to point out that food in this series can look so gross.

On the left we have Riko's cooking where she tends to throw everything together which makes her dishes look gross, but she knows how to prepare everything. On the right, is Nanachi's cooking. Nanachi genuinely doesn't know what a good meal tastes like as he survived on dumpster scraps growing up.

The season ends with Riko, Reg, and Nanachi sitting together to have a meal and it looks like this.

It looks good and it tastes good. And it's the first good meal that Nanachi has ever had. He has this meal shortly after Reg fulfilled his wish of killing his friend Mitty, and it's a moment that let Nanachi know that there are wonderful things in the world.

The world is horrifying and beautiful. And exploring the world exposes you to both the horror and beauty of it. Nanachi has experienced mostly the horror but he got a taste of the beauty in this moment. And at the end of the season, he decided to join Riko and Reg on their journey because he's gained a new outlook that the world still has wonders despite the horrors.

[johannestevans]

Ambitious Men

Archie had idolised Casper Hugo almost his entire life.

Deeply fucked up fantasy-horror, wherein a man finds that his dream of taking over his hero’s restaurant is not to proceed as smoothly as he hoped.

The villain in this inspired by Elias Bouchard TMA. 😘

Before coming to work at Lace, Archie had idolised Casper Hugo almost his entire life.

One of his first memories was lying on the sofa, the television turned up to drown out the sounds of his parents arguing in the other room as much as possible, watching him give an interview.

He couldn’t have been older than five or six, certainly didn’t truly comprehend a lot of what he was saying at the time: Casper Hugo had been a handsome young man who’d taken over the already award-winning restaurant from its previous executive chef and earned it its first Michelin star.

He remembered not the words themselves, but the sound of them, of Chef Hugo’s smooth, comforting voice, like hot caramel, and it had soothed him, made him feel… better. Even with the sound of his parents shouting and snapping at each other, Hugo’s voice had cut through it all.

Until one of them — his mother, he thought — had called him odd for watching the news, said he wasn’t normal. She’d flicked it off and snapped at him go outside like a proper child his age, and he had.

He could never understand what he was meant to do, thus exiled, and had settled for wandering aimlessly until he thought she’d let him back inside.

At the time, he hadn’t even understood that Hugo was a chef, he didn’t think. He’d just liked his voice, his warm smile, the way he held himself and gestured with his hands, slightly clumsily, as though they were too big for him, and he’d sit for an hour flicking through channels until he got lucky and stumbled over an interview or a documentary or a morning breakfast segment.

It was later that he’d realised.

Later that he’d become a bit obsessed.

Later that he’d studied Chemistry and History and French at A-Level and applied all of what he learned to cooking, later that he’d gone to culinary school, which his mother had been furious about.

His father had paid for it out of spite.

It seemed like a dream when he first applied for a line position, certain he’d get tossed aside, but they’d brought him in and watched him in the kitchen. It had mostly been his sous chef, but Hugo had done one round of the kitchen.

“Good knife skills,” he’d said over his shoulder, and it had made Archie feel light-headed.

“You’re my hero,” he said after the demo was over. “I mean, I’d never — I’d never have started cooking if it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if I’d even be alive if it wasn’t you, I’m so grateful, I can’t even… So whatever, um, I know I’m young, but even if you don’t take me, sir, I just want to thank you for the opportunity, to, to meet you, and to try.”

Hugo stared down at him, wrinkled his nose.

The sinking feeling in his chest was so strong Archie thought it would bowl him over, feeling it ripple down his throat, settle hard in his stomach, made him feel like he’d vomit.

“I don’t know what other kitchens you’ve been in,” said Hugo, “but I won’t have you calling me sir.”

Archie blinked.

[danadiadea]

okay but I love itttt😭 I intended jilytail kinda more crackish but honestly it works really well in your plot, I almost believe it is canon, and exceptionally dumb decision to make peter a secreet keeper stemmed from it. Sirius/Minerva lowkey made me emotional, my girl Minnie doesn't deserve all that heartbreak. And Severus stealing peacoks💀💀💀💀 This lil guy was the first peacock in Cokeworth like ever, he's the pioneer. Anyway, sugarbaby!Sev supremacy.

Needed to contribute, so wrote some Bellambrige (my girlies🥺). If I am not lazy I'll also write some Voldernon later lmao, I think they have potential.

🩷🩷🩷

Bellatrix Lestrange had always been a woman of chaos: wild hair, wilder eyes, and a devotion to the Dark Lord so intense it made grown men cry and beg for mercy. She didn't do softness. She hated pink with passion. She refused to feel anything but admiration to her Lord and commitment to his noble Cause.

Then she met Dolores Jane Umbridge.

It started at a Ministry gala �� Bellatrix was surrounded by Muggle-loving, weak idiots bleating something about compromises, bored out of her mind, and there she was: Dolores, wrapped in a vomit-pink cloak with a smile sweet enough to die of diabetes, shorter than Bella herself by almost a head and a half. Bellatrix had heard she was the Head of Improper Use of Magic Office and was known for being ambitious beyond measure, but never interacted with her personally. Umbridge was sipping tea and speaking in a syrupy voice about "preserving traditional values." Bellatrix nearly Crucio’d her on the spot from sheer aesthetic offence, but then she heard:

“Well, of course, I’ve always believed Muggleborns should be properly documented, maybe tagged… We can't let them swing their wands left and right without any control, can we?”

Bellatrix paused. Blinked. And approached this woman. Was there any wonder the gala ended up with Bellatrix getting rid of that abominable pink cloak?

******

Dolores sent Bellatrix an adress of some scumbag who dared to talk poorly about the Lord, obtained with the help of her well-crafted Ministry connections. Bellatrix sent Dolores his fingers in a box. Dolores was touched. Bellatrix was curious.

They started hanging out. Dolores knew just where to buy cute curtains with quality blood-resistance charms for Bellatrix’s torture chamber. Bellatrix cursed the intern who forgot to bring Dolores ("Call me Dolly, darling! I feel so old when you call me Dolores!") proper tea. They bonded over their shared hatred of Mudbloods and half-breeds and passion for classical wandwork.

When Rodolphus found out, he called her Dolly a pink toad, and Bella threw a curse at him for the first time since he dared to question Lord's political course. Her Dolly could be a charming woman when she wanted to – Rodolphus just didn't know shit, and Bella never was the one for conventional beauty anyway. The bra under Bellatrix' dark robes was always pink since then.

Of course, there were issues – Bellatrix had a thing for Voldemort. The thing was that Bellatrix was ready to cut herself open on his whim and worshipped the ground he stood on. She would leave Dolores mid-fuck if she felt her Mark showing the slightest sign of burning. Dolores was... understanding. Mostly because she thought Voldemort was gay. (He might be. That’s not the point. Ask Abraxas anyway.)

****

They were living the sweetest, bloodiest lesbian dream… until Bellatrix stumbled upon Dolores’ old school records.

“You’re a half-blood!?” Bellatrix screeched, flinging tea across the room like it was molten lava.

“Well, I identify as pure—”

“YOU LIED TO ME, YOU DISGUSTING MUGGLE SPAWN! I TRUSTED YOU!”

Bellatrix screamed, Dolores cried and asked to forgive her. Bellatrix killed 3 house elves in pure rage and ordered the traitor to leave and never return. She cried on Cissy's shoulder that day, and Narcissa reflectively commented that Bellatrix almost never lets go of one who lied to her without a Crucio.

And that's how it'd end, if not for drunken Abraxas spilling that their Lord was a half-blood himself. To his defence, he was, like, really drunk – his daughter-in-law, Bella's little sister, just informed him that she was pregnant, and he was overjoyed. So he went emotional, started yapping about Lucius' childhood (Bellatrix felt nauseous with boredom), then about his school years, then about Tom.... Tom?? That peacock dared to call the Dark Lord "Tom" and lie about his noble blood?? Bellatrix was enraged – she took out her wand to curse the bastard daring to slander their Master, but Abraxas was so convincing in his alcoholic oblivion that she faltered. Could that be true? Could her powerful, intelligent, strong, just, gorgeous Lord be a half-blood? Bellatrix stunted Abraxas (There have been enough revelations for today. She wasn't ready to find out if the Lord was actually gay on top of everything) and retired into her thoughts. Well, a half-blood isn't as bad as a Mudblood or a half-breed, right? She'd known some half-bloods that weren't that bad, like this boy Lucius and her Cissy were so fond of – a pathetic little thing that Sirius always obsessively hated. And if Sirius hated someone, it always was a good recommendation for Bellatrix.

She thought about Dolly and sighed – Dolores kept writing her letters and even sent her a confiscated bone crushing Dark artefact as an apology – but Bella ignored her. And yet, she never changed her bras back to simple blacks and greens, despite Rodolphus' protests. Dolores was amazing – she was cruel and funny and obsessed with power. Her cunning hypocritical nature matched Bella's upfront and ruthless style really well – they made an impressive team. And she gave really good hugs... Suddenly, Bella felt determined to fix everything. She could forgive Dolly for being a.... half-blood... if they wouldn't talk about that too much. If her master could be a blood-hypocrite, so could she! Love wins! Bigotry can be flexible!

*****

When Bellatrix came back, she held a small white kitten named "Purity" with a pink bow around its neck in her hands. Dolores cried for forty-five minutes. Bellatrix pressed her face against Dolly's pink cloak to hide that she was sobbing, too.

i am sorry i feel evil and i want you to rate those perfectly reasonable pairings i totally believe to be canon:

- jilyrat (James+Lily+Peter, they didn't trust him for no reason! femme-fatale Peter!)

- dogcat (Sirius+McGonagall, I mean he does have mommy issues canonically, and their animagi forms...... opposites attract......)

- bellambrige (Bellatrix+Dolly, sharing hobbies (unironically liked this one lmao))

- snabraxas (Sev+Abraxas, Severus keeps going for rich parents (also kinda love that help))

and the ultimate icon

✨️Voldernon✨️

Voldemort and Vernon Dursley

A match made in heaven. Voldemort finds out that Harry Potter 100% wouldn't survive if you make a hole in his head with a drill.

btw all of those make more sense and have more chemistry than wolfstar

THESE ARE AWESOME jilyrat is so goofy, peter being in love with james and james being obsessed with lily. yeah i'd betray them too 😔🥀 8/10 i could see this happening.

2. STOP OMG sirius and mcgonagall is lowkey so hot AHSGGDGD. the mommy issues bit is so realll. i'd rate it a solid 7.5/10 i think minnies got too many good morals for all that 💔😔

3. OH MY GODD bella/dolores is PURE CUNT i LOVE it voldemort would kill himself though 😭😭😭. their aesthetics go so well together omg. bella needs a little extra help torturing someone? dolores has got her. bella needs someone to give her room a cute makeover? dolores saves the day! bella needs someone to help pick out a gift for voldemort? don't worry! dolores has the Best taste. aughh it's such a silly ship i love it. 10/10

4. SNABRAXAS AHAHAH i LOVE IT. 15/10. abraxas is rude to severus one time and severus wants to drain his bank account and make him pay. and also fuck him.

5. oh my god vernon x voldemort.. im impressed honestly. really good. thats actually REALLY GOOD LMFAOO both of them get together because they want to kill harry im CRYINGGG 😭😭 this is killing meee. 11/10 this made me laugh so hard.

some crackfic plots for three of the pairings cause i was stressed and high on sleep deprivation. im so fucking sorry these are so bad. read at your own risk 💔💔

jilyrat in a fic setting: jilytail isn't actually that far-fetched honestly, i can see james experimenting with his sexuality with peter, and peter likes it but james doesn't because hes straight, but he doesnt say anything bad about it. and so peter mistakes james for liking it and just.. hangs around when james and lily start dating. and lily kind of accepts it because she excuses a lot of things when it comes to james. and the war starts and lily thinks it's a good idea to have another pureblood such as peter on her side and they kind of.. make it work? 😭😭😭 and it sounds awkward but peter has alot of hobbies and silly side quests and hes kind to lily and lily lowkey falls for him 😭😭 but then james sees this and he gets jealous and breaks it off with him. lily gets upset with him and james is like ykw whatever and goes to hang out with sirius while leaving lily and harry at home. lily's lonely, so she stays in contact with peter until the prophecy thing happens. then it's actually lily's idea to have peter as the secret keeper because she trusts him. james agrees because well um hes dumb, and hes blinded by nostalgia and he lowkey feels bad. and we alll know how it ends. overall a big fat 8/10 😭😭🥀 i could see this happening. they are dysfunctional asf afterall.

BUT also femme-fatale peter really hits too i dont know how to write femme-fatale tropes im sorry 😭

sirigonagall in a crack fic setting: sirius graduates hogwarts and hes sleeping around alott and once, he spots mcgonagall at the bar with dumbledore of all people. and she looks terribly broody and sirius is like WHATEVER and goes for it, he throws a pickup line at her, and as expected, she frowns at him, thinking hes drunk. but surprise surprise, hes not actually drunk. so they sit down and have a long talk, it starts out incredibly dull because minnie has decorum. but then sirius starts talking about his mother and mcgonagall, whos a little drunk now, starts talking about how sirius' father and her had a fling in the past. and sirius is like WHATT and decides he Gets it. he asks her for more information about it. she says no obviously and shes scandelised, so she leaves. but sirius is curious now, and he wants to spite his dad. so he goes digging around his father's office and finds letters orion had written in the past about mcgonagall. and hes left feeling so debilitated because wtf??? and so, like a mad man, he sends one of them anonymously to her. he doesnt hear back for a week and just when he thinks she's given up, she shows up at his door, fuming. she asks what hes playing at and how dare he go through the letters. sirius is a little surprised, but his dad's been dead for about a year now, so he doesnt really see the problem. then mcgonagall asks sirius reluctantly if orion wrote anymore letters to her and sirius nods and shows her a drawer filled with them. and mcgonagall gets sad and they talk about it. and then sirius starts to see her as a genuine friend and they hang around sometimes in their animagus forms. sirius soon starts to spiral when he realises that yeah, shes supposed to be a mother figure to him but shes also attractive and nice and fun to hang around with and witty and- oh No. like, genuinely attractive. well, hes always had mommy issues. walburga would roll in her grave. then sooner or later, sirius gets guilty of feeling this way, so he kind of asks her out to get rejected and move on and to no one's surprise, she looks at him like hes grown an extra head. she declines and sirius- sirius is actually sad. he'd liked hanging out with her but the guilt is too much so he avoids her. then minnie realises that oh this guy was actually being fr and not trolling so they eventually get together. overall a solid 7.5/10

snabraxas in a fic setting:

lucius and severus being fwb, but they have to break it off cause lucius realises he's going to be married off soon. so one evening, he brings severus over to malfoy manor to introduce narcissa as his wife. so severus goes, and they have to walk this pretentious, long, meandering pathway to get into the actual house, and on the way, sverus spots abraxas lounging in the sun, shirtless and shouting at his peacocks to get out of the swimming pool and hes lowkey mesmerised. lucius brings him inside, and severus is being polite to narcissa and they makes small talk. and a while later, abraxas joins them in the dining hall, all freshly showered and looking classy. lucius introduces severus to him and abraxas' lip curls in distaste. and That

is the moment severus vows hes going to make that old man rail him senseless. how Dare he curl his lip at him. severus is going to give that man a heart attack and steal his money.

first, he has to be an annoyance of course. he starts by stealing one of abraxas' peacock. everyone knows how emotionally attached abraxas is towards his peacocks, so obviously, he comes to take his peacock back. but then he sees spinner's end and hes like bitch u live like this? abraxas demands severus gives him his peacock back and severus is like how did u get in my house. tobias throws a chair at him. abraxas dodges it and screams because his own peacock attacks him. how Dare? so now abraxas tries to use magic to get his peacock back but it keeps escaping. tobias is yelling, so severus throws a silencing charm at him and tells abraxas that if he wants his peacock back, he'd need to pay. and abraxas is like u filthy halfblood and severus just raises his eyebrow.

the last time a poor halfblood had the gall to steal from him, refuse to give back what he stole, and had a terrible caregiver, and didn't care if he got called a filthy halfblood, he became lord voldemort, so abraxas takes severus' threat seriously and pays him. but the problem is that the peacock actually really ends up liking severus and won't follow abraxas back. abraxas gets really pissed off and just kidnaps severus with him to malfoy manor. the stupid peacock keeps following severus around and abraxas is ridiculously jealous.

severus starts making hair potions with the peacock's feathers and he gifts it to abraxas and it turns his hair pink for a whole week. HA lucius is in hysterics and severus is triumphant. abraxas really really wants to kick severus out but his peacock won't be happy. :( and then a few months pass with severus commissioning potions for lucius' clients and severus wants to travel for a bit. so he packs his bags and leaves to australia for a bit after saying goodbye to his peacock. the house seems empty without severus to abraxas. he has his peacock back, but even it misses severus. abraxas then remembers that hes rich and can do anything so he apparates to australia to keep annoying severus. severus sees him and he's like how does this guy keep finding me. abraxas ends up following sev to his hotel room and he's like what is this?? this is where you sleep?? and sev is like hmm if you don't like it maybe you should buy me a house here or something and abraxas, being a mad man, actually buys him a house. severus tells him hes insane. abraxas kisses him. severus gets sugar babied to death and lucius is on the verge of Suicide. the end.

can you tell i haven't slept well for two nights 🥀

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Ok, I need an opinion because I'm spiraling about this.

I called out from work because I felt like crap and threw up. But now I feel better! I can still go in for work! But I already called out! But I'd feel bad leaving them short staffed because I called out late when I can work! But my body probably needs some rest! But the only reason I got sick was probably the antibiotic, not the infection!

...I don't know, y'all. I hate this lol. I should go to work.

[razzle-zazzle]

dude, i think your mech is haunted

8077 Words; Cleaved AU (Movie)

TW for mild violence, mild body horror (ghost has holes), vomiting

AO3 ver

Generally, Cole never really gave much thought to whether he believed in ghosts.

He’d never seen any himself, sure, but he also lived in a world with Serpentine and Garmadon and Master Builders. It wasn’t that he particularly cared one way or the other—he just never really gave the idea of ghosts much thought outside of when he was directly asked.

Recently, though? He was starting to think his home might be haunted.

It started with the record player. Cole’s family had a long love of music; it was all musicians as far back as anyone in their family could trace. Cole’s dad was no exception—between the records and CDs of their favorite bands and albums was every song the Royal Blacksmiths had ever made. Cole would never be able to get the classics out of his head; they were written so deeply into his bones from a childhood spent listening to those at-the-time-new albums with his mom. Music was just a part of Cole’s life, and he liked it that way—the Earth Mech wouldn’t have had a DJ setup for the control panel if he didn’t.

But back to the maybe-haunting. Cole had gotten home after a long day of school and then hanging with the rest of the Secret Ninja Force. Part of it was training—Master Wu was determined that they would all learn how to be “proper ninja,” even though their mechs were perfectly suited for handling Garmadon attacks—but most of it was just hanging out with his friends. The ache in Cole’s body from the physical conditioning was vaguely satisfying, thanks to the fact that he’d been hanging out with his friends during.

Before he’d even put his bag away Cole moved to get the record player going. He grabbed an album, pulled out a record, and flipped it onto the player and set the needle with practiced ease. Within moments, The Fold’s music began to fill the apartment as Cole finally slung his backpack onto the couch.

There was a note on the counter from his dad—a late night with his bandmates, and a reminder to take out the trash squished between the reminders to call him in case of emergency and that he loved his son. Cole set the note back down and turned to open the fridge for those leftover wings mentioned in his dad’s note.

“Jump up kick back whip around and spin,” Cole sang along with the song, “and then you—”

A sudden clatter from the doorway had Cole spinning around to stare at the entryway. Countless records spilled across the floor and shoes from where they had been knocked off the shelf by… actually, Cole wasn’t sure. The shelf looked fine.

“Shit.” Cole groused as he moved to clean up the mess. The song kept cheerfully playing on as he worked—he wasn’t gonna just put them back on there willy-nilly. There was a system to the selection of music by the door, just like there was a system to the main shelf of records, CDs, and talent show trophies in the living room.

That was pretty much the whole incident—barely even anything to really worry about. Besides, Cole had homework to ignore and trash to take out.

+=+=+=+=+

“Fly Me to the Moon!” Cole jolted in his seat at the sudden clatter from the kitchen, turning around to look over the back of the couch. His father, one arm still holding the cabinet door, looked down at the floor in a mixture of frustration and astonishment. Though Cole couldn’t see through the counter, he could guess as to what had happened—

“That was the good china!” Lou lamented. Yep, just what Cole figured.

“How’d it even fall out anyway?” Cole asked, as his father let go of the cabinet and went for the broom. He glanced up at the cabinet, surprised to see the whole stack of plates that only ever came out when the Royal Blacksmiths had a successful show completely gone. Weird, how did a whole stack of plates randomly fall out of a cabinet?

“Caesar must have put them away wrong Tuesday night.” Lou guessed, already sweeping up the shards. Cole nodded, and turned back to his laptop. Well, maybe laptop was a generous word—it was a computer provided by the school, in case a Garmadon attack forced them to switch to online lessons. It barely worked like a normal computer, and was little more than a glorified e-reader for teachers to put homework on.

Lou sighed. “I suppose I can’t be too mad,” he added quietly. “Lilly always did hate these plates.” He chuckled, before sighing. “Mom loved them, though.”

Despite the agonizing english homework filling the screen in front of him, Cole snorted.

+=+=+=+=+

“I swear, I have no idea how it fell over!” Cole kneeled down, pressing a towel into the section of the carpet that looked the most soaked. The shattered pieces of the former vase still littered the floor, the sad dying irises wet and limp where they laid in the middle of the puddle.

“I’m not going to be mad at you.” Lou promised, carefully picking up the pieces of vase big enough to grab and putting them in the dustpan.

“I didn’t do it!” Cole protested. He hadn’t. He really hadn’t. The vase had just flung itself off the coffee table—somehow. Cole wasn’t entirely sure how, but—he watched it fall! He didn’t touch it!

His father took a moment to look at him, eyebrow raised in quiet disbelief.

Cole groaned. “It just fell.” He repeated, knowing there was no convincing his father. So what if the irises were tacky? Cole wasn’t going to break a vase just because the flowers inside were ugly. They had been a gift from one of his father’s bandmates, too—Brendan kept a garden, and often gave out flowers as they grew in. And zucchini. So much zucchini.

But still. Cole didn’t knock over the vase, on purpose or otherwise.

Lou sighed. “It was in the middle of the table.” He pointed out.

“And I didn’t touch it!” Cole responded. He pressed the towel down for emphasis—all it did was make his hands damp. His father opened his mouth to say something—

The record, which had been playing an old rock song from before Cole was even born, made a sound that could only be described as wailing. Cole and Lou flinched at the sound, Lou moving to stand up—

Just as quickly as it started, it was over. Silence filled the apartment—true silence, without any music playing in the background.

Cole looked at his father, who had walked over to the record player to inspect it. “Do you think I did that, too?” He asked. Part of him was worried the record player was broken—but most of him was just plain annoyed.

“Cole.” Lou’s tone of voice was sharp. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and reset the needle, music filling the room once more.

Cole made a face. “It’s a valid question.” He groused.

+=+=+=+=+

Ghosts were very much not on Cole’s mind a week later. Despite several things falling over for seemingly no reason, or the record player skipping in the middle of songs, the idea of ghosts hadn’t really entered Cole’s mind. Not when he had Garmadon attacks—or, even worse, school—to worry about.

The history project due tomorrow taunted him through the screen. Were it not for the music blasting from his boombox, Cole would have pulled his hair out by now. Why did citing sources have to be so annoying? Why did finding sources have to be even worse?

Cole glanced at his phone, then back at his still unfinished project. He’d been picking away at it for what felt like forever, now—surely he deserved a break. With that thought in mind, Cole grabbed his phone and pulled up the group chat.

wateryoudoing: did any of you guys finish your essays yet greenmachine: yes! wateryoudoing: besides lloyd greenmachine: :( rocknroll: fsm i wish 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: i havent even started lol greenmachine: guys its not that hard greenmachine: its literally only 600 words wateryoudoing: easy for you to say rocknroll: not evryone can remember this stuff liek you greenmachine: the serpentine war is NOT boring guys wateryoudoing: its not even that the war is boring its just that this assignemtn SUCKS greenmachine: its not that bad rocknroll: yeah it is 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: yeah it is wateryoudoing: see lloyd wateryoudoing: everyone agrees greenmachine: is this bc mr marsh wouldnt let you write about irondragon

Cole closed out of the groupchat. As much fun as it might be to watch Nya and Lloyd argue over whether their history teacher was any good at his job or not, he was hoping for a more fun distraction. He navigated to that one sudoku app he got a while ago, and started up a game. He started a second game five minutes later—and then another when he finished that one, too. It was starting to get boring, but Cole couldn’t put his phone down.

He glanced at his unfinished essay. Back at his phone. The time was 8:43. He could keep taking this break for just a little longer, right?

Cole looked back at the sudoku, entering the last numbers needed to complete the game. The “continue” button appeared, but he didn’t press it.

The assignment was haunting him. Masterdammit. He didn’t want to work on it anymore—but he couldn’t just leave it unfinished. It’d show in his grades and then his dad would get on his ass about it when he already had enough to worry about with the hospital bills—

Cole flinched as harsh static grated against his ears. He fumbled for his boombox, wincing at the noise it was making. First the record, now this? The noise took on that wailing quality, harsh and discordant against Cole’s ears. Despite turning the volume all the way down, the noise continued, scratching against Cole’s brain like nails on a chalkboard.

And then it stopped.

Cole exhaled the breath he hadn’t realize he was holding. Slowly, he turned the volume knob back—

A few seconds of static, then nothing. Cole groaned.

His phone buzzed. Cole grabbed it, opening the group chat to see what was happening now.

FI-YEAHHHH: you guys are not gonna believe what i found 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: 👀 wateryoudoing: your “missing” science hw? FI-YEAHHHH: no even better than that crimedoer: okay i’ll bite crimedoer: WHO CHANGED MY NAME FI-YEAHHHH: so i’m at doomsday comix, as you do greenmachine: you went to doomsday w/o me 🥺 🌵🆘💂‍♂️: 😲😲😲 crimedoer: KAI WAS IT YOU FI-YEAHHHH: uhhhhhh FI-YEAHHHH: okay lloyd i was looking for a bday gift for you FI-YEAHHHH: didnt wanna spoil the surprise greenmachine: my birthday’s not for another 4 months??? crimedoer has changed their name to jetstream wateryoudoing: we’re getting off topic guys wateryoudoing: kai what did you find FI-YEAHHHH: jay change your name back FI-YEAHHHH: okay so i’m looking at the figurines right jetstream: no FI-YEAHHHH: and LOOK at what i found!!!

Kai sent a picture to the groupchat of a Lady IronDragon figurine in his hand, slightly scuffed—and missing a weapon judging by the shape of her hand. The price tag was visible: $10.99.

Cole smiled, texted a quick “cool” and put his phone back down. It continued to buzz as the conversation continued, but Cole’s focus was already back on the boombox. It didn’t look broken. He flicked it back on—

Music blared out like it had never stopped working in the first place. Cole leaned back in his chair with a groan. “First Master…” Between this, the plates, the vase, and the record player—there was something weird going on. Cole just wished it would blow over. Of course, knowing his luck, it probably wouldn’t.

And he still needed to finish that essay!

+=+=+=+=+

“Hey, dude, you doing okay?” Kai’s voice cut through the usual cacophony of the halls before classes. He was leaning against Cole’s locker, and moved over to allow Cole access. “You look kinda…” He waved his hands in a vague approximation of whatever was prompting his concern.

Cole shrugged. “It’s been a weird week.” The noise of the other students was already giving him a headache. He hadn’t brought his boombox today, for fear of it making that awful noise in his locker, but he did still have his headphones—

Uh. Wait—where were his headphones?

“Cole?” Kai leaned over.

“I can’t find my headphones.” Cole said, his voice much more calm than he felt. He sat down to dig into his backpack proper, pulling everything out one by one. He couldn’t find his headphones—where were they? He never left home without them—

“Hello fellow teens!” Zane greeted, wheeling over. He turned to Cole. “Did you ever finish your history essay?”

“Cole can’t find his headphones.” Kai explained to Zane—and Nya and Jay, who had just arrived.

“Oof,” Jay said, brushing his fingers over the fabric of his scarf. “That sucks.”

Cole wasn’t listening. His headphones—he needed his headphones! Without his music—

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his rising panic. “Hey,” Lloyd said, kneeling beside Cole. “I know it’s not the same, but…” he reached into his own backpack, pulling out a pair of earbuds, “will these work for you?”

Something in Cole softened at the gesture, even as the rest of him recoiled at the notion of using earbuds. He forced the protests down with a swallow, and took a breath. “It’ll do.” He conceded, taking the earbuds. It was way different from his boombox and headphones, but he’d rather have the earbuds than no music at all.

He still couldn’t believe he’d forgotten them. He never left home without his headphones!

“Where’s your boombox, anyway?” Nya asked, as Cole began to pick all his stuff back up and Kai and Jay and Zane all began to help him.

“It’s been acting weird lately.” Cole responded, standing up and shoving his bag into his locker. “Making weird noises.”

“Ohhh, like the record player?” Jay asked, “You said it made a weird noise on Monday.”

Cole nodded, plugging the earbuds into his walkman. He put one bud in one ear and left the other out so he could follow the conversation, and started towards his first class. The halls were emptying out, now, as the start of classes approached.

Kai, Jay, and Nya didn’t share the same first period, and peeled off to get to their respective classes. Cole leaned against Zane as they walked, and turned to Lloyd. “Thanks.” He murmured, before popping in the other earbud.

Lloyd nodded. “Of course.”

+=+=+=+=+

Garmadon attacks were all the same. Get to the hideout, get in their mechs, get out there and kick ass. Sure, there was definitely stress in how the attacks constantly interrupted their lives and put the whole city in danger, but it was a stress they were all used to. Before long, Garmadon was retreating from the crater Lloyd had made, and they were all pulling back into the hideout to relax and decompress.

Cole hopped out of the Earth Mech and beelined straight for the jukebox. His headphones may not have turned up, but at least their secret base was never lacking in terms of music players. He looked through the music they had on hand before selecting an old Three Days Grace song. The music blared, and Cole sat down heavily, pressing his cheek into the cool plastic of the jukebox as the vibrations washed over him.

“—across all of our battles, Lloyd has done significantly more damage to the city than Garmadon!” Zane was saying when Cole tuned back into the conversation.

Lloyd winced. “I—” He grunted, then went over the couch and sat on it. “I should work on that.” He finished, a bit lamely.

“Yeah, but he looked so cool doing it!” Kai put in, also taking a seat on the couch. “And besides, the city doesn’t give a damn, and they bully us all the time, so why should we care if things get a little broken?”

“That’s not very ninja of you.” Cole pointed out, still leaning against the jukebox. From where he was sitting, he watched as Jay started up a game on the TV, handing a controller to Kai. Kai took the controller, and grabbed one to offer to Lloyd, who shrugged and waved it off. Zane wheeled over to Cole and sat down next to him

“Oh, who cares!” Nya declared, hopping up over the back of the couch and landing next to Jay. “Lloyd’ll work on his ‘use every missile in his arsenal on Garmadon’ habit and we’ll continue protecting the city. Not that hard!”

Cole smiled. Yeah, Garmadon attacks sucked, but at least the aftermath was always great. Being here, hanging out in this sickass secret hideout with the rest of the Secret Ninja Force—

The jukebox shrieked. Cole stumbled back as that same awful static hissed out of it, grating against his ears. Across the room, Jay yelled, falling off the couch and taking Kai down with him.

“Dude!” Lloyd’s hands were over his ears as he winced at the noise. Zane’s head was spinning—

“Ha!” Nya stood triumphantly, unplugged power cord for the jukebox in hand—

Except the noise continued, screeching despite the loss of power. Cole winced, covering his ears with his hands and scooting further away from the jukebox. Nya similarly backed away—

And then

the noise

stopped.

Everyone stared at the jukebox. Cole lowered his hands, and groaned. “Not again.” He muttered, glaring at the poor jukebox. Now he was three for three on weird noises.

“Uh, that’s not the noise your record player and boombox made, is it?” Jay asked as he and Kai untangled themselves.

Cole grimaced, which was answer enough.

“I think you might be cursed, bro.” Kai suggested, coming over to put his hand on Cole’s other shoulder.

“Gasp!” Zane gasped. “Cole’s headphones disappeared too! I hope he’s not cursed to never enjoy music again.”

Cole stared at Zane in horror. “Never say that again, please.” Nope. No way. If Cole was cursed in some way that prevented him from listening to music, he was going to walk into the sea and never come back. He couldn’t give up music. Not for anything.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Lloyd said, in a tone of voice that suggested nothing was fine. “Maybe Garmadon’s planning something with radios and… stuff.” He didn’t quite look like he believed what he was saying, but he pushed on anyway. “And then when he attacks again we’ll find out what he was planning and put a stop to it.”

Cole snorted. “And then we beat him up?”

Nya nodded sagely. “And then we beat him up.” She agreed. “And alllll of your music problems will end.” She sounded so sure of herself, like always—Cole couldn’t help the grin starting to split his face. He stood, ambling over and plugging the jukebox in. Thankfully, when he started the song, no weird noises came out. Cole still moved over to one of the bean bags near the couch just in case.

With that, Jay and Kai started the game anew, and everyone began to properly kill time until Master Wu showed up.

+=+=+=+=+

Garmadon didn’t often attack every single day, but back-to-back attacks were nothing new, either. Weekends tended to be particularly nasty, as this one was proving to be. Still, the Secret Ninja Force were up to the task, rolling out in their mechs to defend the city as they always did.

“Guys, I think my house is haunted.” Cole commented, directing the Earth Mech around a sharp corner. The intercoms crackled slightly as the others began to reply—

Ethereal green spun into the corner of his vision, leaking face and half-there body lighting up the cockpit. “It’s not your house, dude.”

The Earth Mech slammed straight into a wall. Cole screamed, and in the same instant the—well, it really couldn’t be anything other than a ghost—disappeared, the green glow gone as soon as it had appeared. The world spun and Cole groaned, struggling to regain his bearings.  The Earth Mech was halfway into the wall.

“Please tell me you guys heard that.” Cole sighed, spinning the records to back the Earth Mech out of the newly-created hole in the wall.

“If you mean you screaming and crashing into a wall, then yes!” Zane chirped. Cole buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Let’s try and focus on the battle at hand, guys.” Lloyd commented. “We can talk about the ghost thing later.”

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, getting back into the groove. “Let’s do that.”

+=+=+=+=+

Despite Lloyd’s comment, they all had things they needed to go do at home post-battle, so everyone split up after a few minutes spent cooling down. Cole made his way to the bus stop, pulling out his fare. Twenty minutes later, he was getting off, and started making his way through his neighborhood.

Cole’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and opened the group chat.

IHATEMYDAD: doomsday wont let me in :( wateryoudoing: omw bro crimedoer: lloyd your name :( 💒😲🐦: todays atk was p rough crimedoer: MOTHRFUCKER crimedoer has changed their name to bluedabbade bluedabbade: ENOUGH FI-YEAHHHH: bro whats that even supposed to mean bluedabbade: you are not being serious rn rocknroll: the song right? bluedabbade: see! cole gets it!

Cole snorted, reaching for his keys. The door opened easily, and he switched his shoes before reaching to start the record player. The moment the music started, he walked off, not wanting whatever was going on with him to break the record player (again). Sitting down on the couch, he opened the group chat up again.

FI-YEAHHHH: but your name is literally a crime 💒😲🐦: very true 💒😲🐦: jay walking is a very srs crime bluedabbade: IM NOT A CRIIMNLA FI-YEAHHHH: criimnla IHATEMYDAD: criimnla wateryoudoing: criimnla bluedabbade: JSFLDGKFHGJH bluedabbade has changed FI-YEAHHHH’s name to fi-YUCK fi-YUCK: jay wtf bluedabbade: how does it feel bluedabbade: sucks doesn’t it fi-YUCK: okay fine ig i deserve it IHATEMYDAD: nya got us banned from doomsday for a week btw wateryoudoing: it’s not my fault the manager was a jerk! rocknroll: lol IHATEMYDAD: oh yeah cole you doing alright? IHATEMYDAD: what were we supposed to hear anyway rocknroll: istfsm SOMETHING appeared in my mech rocknroll: and said it wasnt just home that was haunted bluedabbade: what, like a ghost? rocknroll: i hope not rocknroll: life is hectic enough as is fi-YUCK: amen 🙏

+=+=+=+=+

Green light crept in under the door. Cole stared at it, but it stayed firmly green instead of the hallway light’s usual yellow. Not that the hallway light should even be on, at this hour, when Cole’s dad was asleep in his room and Cole was supposed to also be asleep.

Oh, First Master, Cole did not want to get up to deal with this. Not at ass o’clock in the morning. But he was a ninja, so he sat up and rolled off the bed as quietly as possible. If someone was stupid enough to try and break in here then they were in for a surprise. But really, why green? It wasn’t even the vibrant green of Lloyd’s mech and gi—it was paler, almost sickly, maybe even lifeless.

Cole sleepily made his way to the door and rested his hand on the handle, ready to burst it open and take whoever was shining ominous green light in the hallway by surprise—

And then it was gone. Like it had never been there in the first place. Because maybe it never had.

Cole blinked. He sighed. Tiredness clung to his shoulders like a coat, and his bed was calling for him. Still, he turned the knob and opened the door just to check—

Nothing.

“Ughhhh.” Cole groaned, turning back to his bed. He was probably just seeing things. Probably.

Green light filtered into his room through the open door. Cole whirled around towards the source.

Standing at the other end of the hallway was… a ghost? It was a pale, unearthly green, slightly transparent. Holes opened and closed throughout it, and its face was too indistinct for Cole to fully make out. Okay, definitely a ghost.

Fuck. Cole practically dove towards his nightstand, snatching his phone and fumbling to unlock it. Squinting against the glaring light of the screen, he opened the camera app, turned back to the hallway, and aimed at the ghost.

The flash lit up the entire hallway. Cole cursed, hurrying to turn it off, and aimed the camera again. He opened the group chat and sent the picture.

rocknroll: i swear to teh fuckign first master criminal: is that a fucking ghost criminal: WHO THE FUCK FI-YEAHHHH: okay so coles ass is haunted criminal: KAI WAS IT YOU wateryoudoing: guys why are you up at 2 am FI-YEAHHHH: why are YOU up at two AM 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠: shockedface.jpeg

The ghost just… stood there, staring at the wall. Cole finally found the brightness settings and lowered them, keeping the ghost in his peripheral vision as he did. “What do you want from me?” He asked, not expecting a response.

The ghost turned to face him. It stared, its mouth opening. “I shou—e—ask—g—you—that.” Its voice had a crackly, echoey quality, like a skipping record or damaged cassette.

Cole bristled. “Dude,” he hissed, not really caring that he was trying to argue with a ghost, “you’re haunting me.”

The ghost crossed its arms, but the motion accidentally bumped the wall. Cole snapped another photo at exactly the same moment as the pictures on the wall fell down.

“Uh—” The ghost drifted back, “Oops.”

Cole buried his face in his hands. The group chat was still open on his phone.

rocknroll: IT WONT LEAVE ME ALONE

He sent the picture, then shoved his phone into his pocket and moved to pick up the photos. None of the frames seemed to be damaged, at least, but Cole still grumbled as he held up a photo of the Royal Blacksmiths holding the Blade Cup.

“Oh, I—rememb—that.” The ghost commented, bright green glow lighting up the photo as it leaned over Cole. Cole glared at the ghost. There was something familiar about its face, but its features kept flickering in and out, missing-unmissing in a way that kept Cole from recognizing why it looked familiar.

“It’s way too late for this.” Cole grumbled, once the wall was fixed. He supposed he could at least thank the ghost for providing light to see by—but he was too tired for that. So he settled for walking back towards his room, glaring at nothing while the ghost hovered behind him. He made it just past his door when the green light disappeared entirely.

Cole looked around, and, when he realized the ghost was seemingly gone, he sat down on his bed and opened up the group chat.

criminal has changed their name to supersonic FI-YEAHHHH: alright bro im comin over FI-YEAHHHH: gonna get all ghostbusters on this guy for you wateryoudoing: kai you are NOT going out at 2 am FI-YEAHHHH: also jay change your name back wateryoudoing: KAI supersonic: NUH UH 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠 has changed supersonic’s name to jaywalkingisacrime jaywalkingisacrime: ZANE jaywalkingisacrime: I DO NT JAYWALK FI-YEAHHHH: its in your name rocknroll: it’s gone rocknroll: for now rocknroll: kai you don’t need to come over FI-YEAHHHH: good bc i changed my mind FI-YEAHHHH: nya totally didnt drag me back inside jaywalkingisacrime has changed their name to NOTACRIMINAL 🏸🏋️‍♂️🦜🎠: sus FI-YEAHHHH: sus rocknroll: sus wateryoudoing: sus NOTACRIMINAL: i hate it here greenmachine: can you all GO TO BED

Cole closed the chat and turned off his phone, setting it on his nightstand. He flopped back onto his bed, arms spread wide and staring at the ceiling. Without the light of his phone or the ghost, he couldn’t make out any details, but he wasn’t exactly looking for anything in particular.

So he was haunted. Great. And if the jukebox at the hideout was any indication, then the ghost was following him around. Maybe even all the time.

Cole glared at the darkness. He had no idea where the ghost went, but it clearly had to be able to turn invisible given recent events. After a moment more of glaring around his room, he sighed, throwing an arm over his face.

First Master, this sucked.

+=+=+=+=+

“Hey, Garmadorks!”

As one, the Secret Ninja Force glanced over at Chen and his cronies. Cole frowned, adjusting his hold on his boombox.

Lloyd winced. “Yeah, Chen?” He tried for a smile, but it came out just as pained and awkward as always.

Chen and the other cheerleaders glared at them all. “Your dad’s last attack totalled my mom’s insurance firm.” He bit out.

“So what?” Nya asked, leaning over the table to glare at Chen directly. “Lloyd had nothing to do with that.”

“Uh, he totally did?” One of the cheerleaders objected. “It was his dad’s invasion. That’s like, involvement enough.” She twirled some of her hair around her finger as she spoke.

“Yeah!” Added another cheerleader. “And he hasn’t done anything to make up for his dad’s invasions, either.” She flipped her hair. “He totally owes the whole city reparations and stuff.”

“That makes zero sense!” Zane pointed out. “Lloyd and his father do not have contact.”

“Yeah!” Kai agreed, leaning up against Lloyd in a show of support. “Just lay off, Chen. Go back to braiding each other’s hair.” He sneered.

“Ugh, of course Garmadon hides behind his goons,” Chen groused, stepping forwards. “Real evil villain behav—”

“What—h—uck?” A new voice asked from behind Chen. A voice that was crackly and echoey in a familiar way—

Everyone jolted as a glowing green ghost appeared behind Chen, arms crossed and face missing. Nya grabbed a fork and held it threateningly, Jay shrunk back into his scarf, and Cole gripped his boombox a little tighter.

Chen and the other two turned around to face the new voice, and Chen scoffed. “Oh, yeah, real clever!” He bluffed. “But everyone knows that ghosts aren’t real—” Chen froze, his finger halfway into the ghost’s chest. Cole could only imagine the face Chen was making.

“Uhhhh, we gotta go!” Chen decided, as the other two cheerleaders nodded. “We’ve got practice, so…” And with that, they left.

Everyone stared. The majority of the lunchroom was still as active as ever, most people paying no attention to the literal ghost just feet away from Lloyd’s table. The ghost stared at them all, face flickering in and out of visibility, missing-unmissing features still frustratingly familiar but unrecognizable.

“Why are you haunting Cole?” Nya demanded, brandishing her fork in one hand and grabbing a milk carton in the other.

The ghost vanished.

Cole’s forehead hit the table with a quiet thud. He groaned in frustration. Zane’s cool hand rubbed at his back.

“Sooooo… that happened.” Lloyd said, as Kai reached over to pat Cole’s shoulder.

“I can look up how to perform an exorcism!” Zane suggested cheerfully. Cole sat up, opening his mouth to reply—

The Garmadon Alarm went off. Of all the possible timings—

“We’ll ask Master Wu later.” Lloyd suggested. “For now, we gotta get to our lockers!”

+=+=+=+=+

The texture of the record spinning under his fingers was exactly what Cole needed after weeks of being haunted. For all that Garmadon attacks sucked and made everything a thousand times harder for Lloyd, Cole could admit to finding some comfort in the familiarity of knocking about Garmadon’s generals with his mech.

“Kai, Zane, Cole, downtown!” Lloyd ordered, “I’m going after Garmadon.” It was the same setup as always, but it worked, so none of them complained. Cole rolled his mech along, knocking down as many generals on the way to the main action as he could.

Barely halfway through the horde, the music playing in the Earth Mech’s cockpit cut off with a familiar screeching sound. Cole flinched back, gripping his hood as his mech spun out of control. “No no no—”

With a final shuddering wail, the Earth Mech shut down, its one wheel spinning for a moment before the whole thing toppled over.

“Cole’s down!” Jay’s voice crackled over the radio. “On fourth street and blondo!”

“I’m on it!” Kai said, but last Cole remembered Kai was towards the other side of the city.

“Shit.” The ghost spun into existence besides Cole. “I didn—ean t—o that.”

“Yeah, well, you did.” Cole snapped, struggling with his mech’s lifeless controls. He needed to restart his mech, and fast—

Too late. One of Garmadon’s generals had already made it to the cockpit, banging on the glass. Cole barely had a moment to register the cracks spider webbing across before he had to raise his arms to protect his face from falling shards. Gloved hands grabbed his arms and hauled him out of his mech before he could do anything, tossing him towards the pavement.

Cole rolled, came to a stop, and groaned before forcing himself to sit up. The general was already on him, grabbing his shoulders and yanking him back as more generals rushed over.

“Wh—get off me!” Cole kicked, as another general grabbed his other shoulder. The ghost flickered into visibility beside him, only to disappear a moment later.

“Garmadon said to unmask him!” A general declared, and hands were reaching for Cole’s mask. No no no—

He wrenched one arm free and used to punch the general holding him, before darting off. Another general tackled him, and they grappled on the pavement.

The ghost became visible again. “Use sp—tsu!” It urged, hands passing through the generals uselessly.

“Use what?” What was the ghost talking about? Cole only half knew how to fight—the Secret Ninja Force used mechs!

A general grabbed Cole’s mask and yanked. Cole shoved forwards, slamming his head against their glass bubble thing and grabbing at their hand. Too late—another general grabbed his mask and pulled it off completely, revealing his face for all to see. He could hear all the other ninja yelling on the radio, could see Kai’s fire mech approaching the scene—which, uh, Cole would rather not be barbequed, thanks—but there were so many generals. There were too many of them! Cole needed his mech!

“Ugh, just let me—” And then the green glow phased into Cole, and—

PAIN!

The world tumbled as his head pounded. Lights flashed in front of his eyes, noise and motion pummeling his senses. I don’t want you to be sick anymore Cole did it! I caused the cave in Bequeath bequeath bequeath Nice to meet you kid Ninja never quit We don’t always get what we want That’s not a coconut ZANE! Twinkletoes couldn’t deliver the goods You know blue! Try fire dork I know who I am! I should’ve bowed out long ago It was to protect him Ninja never quit This macho stuff is making you both look like fools Don’t tell me I have to ride this like a broomstick I got the scroll! That’s not fair I’M GONNA BITE YOU Make a mockery of our family legacy! SHOW YOURSELF! I didn’t see motormouth on it You look white! It’s a bug You need to remember Grief takes many shapes and forms Ninja never quit This isn’t about numbers No problem with that HEEEEELLLLP I’d love to visit! Is that why you ran away? My dad was a blacksmith Fair isn’t a word where I come from! Close the circle Don’t think you can lie to me We’re a team Brother sharpens brother Let’s burn these memories from my head Ninja never quit Maybe you belong together! WHY WOULD YOU TOUCH THE SCARY PICTURE JAY I was gonna eat that I can make a little extra if I do the human piñata Light as a feather Pinky! Rawr Ninja never quit I’m not strong enough! But we’re UNDERGROUND Eat dirt Bluebelle! I get it Close the circle I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT COLE You like my bed! Be the key! Some sing and dance It was supposed to be my day off I am the MC I’ll turn you black and blue! Ninja never quit I should have bowed out long ago This is about family! There are reputable performers that attend clown college Close the circle We’re in this together I promised to protect him! Ninja never quit JUST TAKE THE FLIER You didn’t make it out in time The mighty Cole! A prank? Really? Direct from the business end of your own weapon! Close the circle I know you too well Promise me you’ll always stand up I’m a… ghost! This dance ain’t over There’s magic in the air I saw you stand up for what is right! Close the circle Wow Lloyd’s going through puberty It’s now or never! Close the circle Win this thing See you’re missing? Close the circle Why don’t you make like a ghost and vanish? You received my message Close the circle Ha, Look at you! Some climb mountains Close the circle Not to a ghost! To those who are cruel and unjust I can’t see my reflection Close the circle Settling my debt Where is my reflection You can barely see yourself! Close the circle What are you even fighting for? Your friends have abandoned you! Your master has abandoned you! You are all ALONE!

Just one more lonely ghost, not a friend in the world—

The pavement was rough and uneven against Cole’s hands and knees, his whole body convulsing as the green glow pulled off. He retched, burning in this throat and bitterness on his lips. The world tilted as he heaved, cracked pavement coming up to slam his shoulder and side. Cole shuddered.

After a moment, the spinning slowed enough that Cole could push himself up. The green glow—the ghost—rippled where it stood amongst dismembered bones. It was as unstable as ever, but with the jumble of images and voices still rattling Cole’s brain, he could finally recognize the missing-unmissing features.

The pavement all around him was cracked, uneven, in several spider-webbing radiuses from several points. Where before Garmadon’s many generals had stood proudly, ready to fight, there were only a few of them laying across the pavement, groaning in pain or outright unconscious. Cole looked the ghost—who kept flickering like a bad lamp, rude—in the eye and spoke.

“You’re me.”

“COLE!” And then there was the rest of the Secret Ninja Force, picking their way over cracked concrete and down-for-the-count generals. Kai was the first to reach him, warm hands on Cole’s shoulders helping to steady the still-shaking world.

“What did you do to our friend?!” Nya demanded, charging at the ghost—Cole’s ghost? No, no, just calling him the ghost was fine. The ghost vanished with a crackly yelp, then flickered back into view a few feet to the left.

Cole’s head was pounding. Nausea had settled into his throat like a contented frog—he couldn’t swallow it down. The world was no longer spinning, thankfully, but he was dizzy all the same.

“I believe we have just witnessed a real-life possession!” Zane suggested. “And you should put your mask back on!”

Oh, fuck. “Right.” Cole fumbled for his mask for a moment, before Kai leaned in and helped him get it off. It was too late anyway—Cole could hear murmuring towards the edges of the street. Witnesses, no doubt. He chanced a glance, and—yep. Phones.

Fuck.

“Let’s get out of here.” Lloyd decided, still on his mech. “And quickly.”

“Yeah.” Cole nodded, still leaning on Kai. “Please.”

+=+=+=+=+

Thankfully, nobody had followed them back to the secret hideout, nor did anyone seem to have paid attention to where their mechs were going. Everyone was too busy with Cole’s identity reveal, apparently.

Cole sat down by the jukebox, leaning against Zane, face buried in his hands. His head was killing him, throbbing with constant pain as all the disjointed memories rattled around in his head. His whole body felt like a wrung-out towel.

The ghost’s soft glow was just barely visible through his fingers. Nya had the thing at spearpoint, and though its voice had somehow become clearer since the possession, its answers weren’t making any sense.

“I see someone has had their identity revealed.” Master Wu’s voice cut through the doom and gloom, everyone paying attention as their sensei entered the hideout.

“It’s not his fault!” Lloyd hurriedly defended, among a chorus of agreement from the others. “His mech broke down, because of the ghost—” He pointed at the ghost in question, who flickered in what might have been shame.

“We n—ver had to—ide our identi—ies.” The ghost said, crossing its arms. “And I—elped.”

“You have a rift in your head.” Master Wu stepped back as he spoke. “It’s no wonder you’re so unstable.”

The ghost’s mouth flickered from closed to opened, but no words came out—just formless sound that flickered in and out as the ghost’s form melted and reformed, holes opening and closing throughout him.

“And familiar, as well.” Master Wu looked astounded—if such a thing was even possible.

“When he possessed me,” Cole started, wincing as a new wave of pain spiked through his head, “I saw… memories. Or something like that.” He grimaced, gripping Zane’s arm tightly. “He’s me.”

“WHAT?!” The response from the others was immediate. Cole flinched back from the noise.

Master Wu smacked his staff against the ground, and everyone calmed down. “You’re sure?” He asked.

Cole nodded. “Except…” He fumbled for the words he needed, “it’s not quite the same.”

“I—ould—hope not.” The ghost grumbled. “This plac—s—azy.”

“So it’s some… Cole from another world?” Jay asked, sounding just as lost as Cole felt.

“Perhaps.” Master Wu said, sizing the ghost up. “Regardless, it is clear that he and Cole are… cleaved.” He lightly smacked Cole’s arm, and the ghost flinched in tandem. “The longer he is here, the more closely tied you two will become.”

Cole rubbed at his arm. “So we just gotta send him home, right?” Even though he had no idea how to do that.

“There are ways to travel to other worlds—” Master Wu began—

“Realms.” The ghost’s voice crackled. “It’s—ealms.”

“For you, maybe.” Master Wu groused. “Hmm… that complicates things.” He lifted his staff, and played the chorus of “Home” by… Daughtry, if Cole remembered right.

The ghost turned and gave Cole a helpless sort of look—just before its face flickered out of existence for a moment. Cole shrugged, not sure what the ghost was looking for.

A fresh wave of pain rolled through Cole’s head. He hissed through grit teeth—it felt like his head was splitting in two!

“Master…” Lloyd started, “If Cole and the ghost are ‘cleaved’, and the ghost has a rift in his head…” He cast a helpless look to Wu, “What’ll happen to Cole if the rift opens?”

Master Wu frowned, then grabbed his flute and played a snatch of music. Since Cole was in too much pain to identify the song, Zane spoke up instead.

“That song is ‘Explode’ by Mother Mother!” He confirmed after a moment’s search. Immediately, his smile morphed into a frown. “That is terrible news!”

Jay gasped. “COLE’S GONNA EXPLODE?!”

“If this ghost cannot be sent home,” Master Wu began, “then probably.”

“Then we gotta send this ghost home!” Nya declared, to general agreement.

“Looking up all forms of interdimensional travel!” Zane stated, a loading bar appearing over his face.

Master Wu hummed. “There is reference material on the Bounty. Lloyd, Jay, and Nya, with me.” The three hurriedly stood. “Kai and Zane, continue to monitor Cole and the ghost.” Kai nodded, holding onto Cole’s arm.

Wu turned his attention to the ghost. “Try not to rip apart.” He suggested.

+=+=+=+=+

“So this circle will send Ghost home?” Lloyd asked, looking at the chalk lines rendered by Zane’s careful hand, then at the candles Master Wu had helped to set up. The ghost was standing next to Cole, who had managed to stand—mostly by leaning most of his weight onto Kai, who stood between him and the ghost.

Master Wu looked the circle over. “It… might.” He confirmed. Everyone stared at him. “What? I’ve traveled between worlds, not to wherever he’s from.”

“L—t’s—ust—urr—p.” The ghost said, his voice having gotten worse over the past two hours. His form wavered, barely visible at all but for the brightly glowing rift on his head. He walked to the center of the circle, and looked at Lloyd. “Ligh—t—up.”

Lloyd nodded, brandishing a lighter he had found on the Bounty. He kneeled down, pressing the flame to the chalk. It caught, and the whole circle began to glow.

A hole through the ghost’s chest grew wide, more holes appearing throughout it. Everyone watched as the glow from the circle grew in intensity…

And then it didn’t. Everyone looked on in horror as the ghost flickered in place and the circle’s glow dimmed down to nearly nothing.

“No…” Lloyd said.

“C’mon, work!” Kai urged, but the circle remained inert.

“It’s ho—peless.” The ghost lamented. “I’m going to fade—fade away.” Its voice echoed with a deep sort of pain that Cole felt even if he didn’t fully understand.

“No, you’re not.” Cole protested, stumbling forwards onto the circle. “Because ninja never quit.” Recognition flashed in the ghost’s eyes, and for a moment, his body was solid enough for Cole to recognize his own face staring back at him.

“Bro—” Kai stepped into the circle to grab Cole’s shoulder. The circle began to glow softly.

“Wait…” Lloyd looked at the circle. “Everyone, get in the circle!” He ordered. Nya jumped in without hesitation, Jay hesitating before stepping within it as well. Zane wheeled forwards, and the circle’s glow brightened even further.

Lloyd stepped forwards, and the circle lit up fully with an ominous hum—

A tearing sound rang out through the hideout as a sudden wind buffeted them all. The ground shook, the whole floor lit up, the ghost’s arms lit up orange, his hands hot against Cole’s arms—

The ground disappeared from under Cole—it felt like he was pushed through a hole too small, but without being crushed in any way. The nothingness around him spun, then Cole felt a sudden twist—

Cole grunted as he impacted what felt like an old wooden floor—and as Kai landed directly on top of him. Four more impacts sounded out, and Cole squinted against the bright green glow. It looked like they had been dropped into some old building in the middle of the night—but the ghost’s green illuminated the scene just well enough. When Cole finally processed what he was looking at, his jaw dropped.

He knew the ghost was some… alternate version of him. Probably. But, if he was being honest, he hadn’t really had any expectations for what would happen beyond the vague hope that it would all work out and the ghost would no longer need to haunt him.

This was… well.

Cole watched as the ghost floated towards—it looked like a corpse, if he was being honest, skin pulled taut over the flesh. A nasty-looking hole lined with green light in the guy’s chest caught Cole’s eyes, and he winced. More off-putting than that, though, was the empty stare set into a very familiar face. His face.

The corpse stumbled forwards, and then it and the ghost both raised a hand. They reached out, and Cole wriggled in an attempt to get out from under a squirming Kai and turned-around Zane as the ghost’s fingers met the corpse’—

There was a very bright explosion.

Cole and the others were all thrown back onto a set of stairs, the hard edge digging into Cole’s gut as his chin slammed against another stair. Ow, that hurt, and now all of Zane’s weight was on top of him instead of just his legs—

Cole shoved Zane off of him, and looked around. The secret hideout was gone, replaced with an old… temple? that Cole didn’t recognize. The floor at ground level was scorched in a vaguely circular shape, two massive doors across the room were wide open, revealing a grassy field and night sky—

And there were six figures all in a heap on the floor, the one in the center sobbing with laughter. Six familiar figures, who all slowly stood while still pressed together.

Lloyd spoke first. “Hey, wait!”

The six strangers turned their attention onto the Secret Ninja Force. For a moment, nobody moved or spoke. Then—

“What the fuck?!”

[bardnuts]

i spend a lot of time thinking about when exactly Astarion catches feelings For Real and I think the funniest answer to that question is literally the first time you have sex. He's got 200 years of experience in not catching feelings. "This is a good plan," he thinks. "A nice, simple plan. Make them fall for you, don't fall for them."

Then you ask him if he's ok or some shit during sex and it's DOA. Plan failed immediately upon its attempted execution. Defeated by the concept of a gentle lover. The rocket blows up on the launchpad

[ddenji]

i think a movie was a good choice for reze's arc!!! i'm literally so excited to see her & denji be whacky on the big screen <3 plus I hope this means good things for the animation overall cuz the anime was gorgeous and there are some really epic moments in reze's arc that i cannot wait to see translated into film. also what a choice to call it reze's arc, bc like yes it is, but also... this is denji's story. they're all his arcs. to me its a good way of reinforcing the ideas surrounding how denji is controlled by his desire for love & the people he chases in pursuit of that love <3 (though also it would be spoilers i guess to show reze and then call it bomb devil arc lol. it serves multiple purposes. to me.) anyways yippee! now we just wait for season two announcement!!

[romanthe]

calling ur mom to come stay w you so u don’t ruin ur life is so funny when she used to be the reason ur life was in ruins

[tendebill]

me: man, this chapter only has 1.7k words... i don't know if i wanna post a chapter this short... meh, whatever...

also me, 2 hours later, covered in sweat, bent in half over my keyboard, with cramped fingers and a 3.5k words long chapter: i should write chapter 14 like right now.

[coweggomelet]

every retail customer die challenge

[meownotgood]

you would do great in nanowrimo

i admire your ability to write more than 50 words, my glitter covered peanut brain could never

oh I wish... don't get the wrong idea... I hope to someday be able to write 50k words in a month... at the pace I write now I think if I tried to do that you would probably never hear from me again