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sacredfire44 · 9 months

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Kinda wanna read/write a post-canon Bingqiu fic set years later, where during some routine, silly wife plot, Binghe somehow finds out that the soul attached to his husband’s body is not, in fact, the original soul.

Like any person, his first assumption isn’t that his husband had replaced the original SQQ. It’s that an imposter has replaced his husband.

A skilled imposter. One who knows all of his husband’s little quirks, who slipped under even Binghe’s watchful eye.

Binghe takes care to not indicate that he’s noticed. His blood parasites confirm this is still his husband’s body, and he refuses to scare them into running before he can get the imposter out.

Binghe spends weeks researching and practicing, until he’s finally certain he can tear the imposter’s soul apart without hurting his husband. Praying, desperately, that it’s a powerful possession instead of a replacement. Praying his husband is still alive in there.

Finally, he slips into the imposter’s dreamscape, clinging to threads and forcing his way as close to the soul as possible, for the surface-level dreams show him in SQQ’s body. Inside, he finds a small man, with big eyes and stick-thin arms, features far too similar to his Shizun. A cheap, pathetic mockery of Shen Qingqiu, he makes sure to tell them.

They are weak outside of Shen qingqiu’s powerful body. It is all too easy to restrain them, to rage and revile them for their crimes, to question what they’ve done, to tear them apart, limb from limb-

“How long?,”He’d snarled, furious, claws digging into the pathetic parasite’s left arm, yanking it just far enough for the strain to burn.

“Years,”The imposter says, eyes wide and wet. Crying.

Years. Years with his husband that this imposter has taken, has stolen from them. Nights spent entangled, lazy mornings spent curled into each other’s embrace, soft evenings spent watching the sunset.

Binghe yanks the arm the rest of the way out, relishing in the way the parasite screams. It will know pain for what it’s taken from him, for what it’s taken from his Shizun.

XXXX

At first, Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, didn’t know what was happening. He’d thought of himself as Shen Qingqiu for years now, so waking up in his original body had been confusing and disorienting.

When Binghe appeared as well, he knew immediately it was a nightmare. It couldn’t be anything but that. Binghe, his Binghe as he was now, would never look at him like this, like he was the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, the scum of the earth.

It was rare to have nightmares nowadays. Binghe was always watching his dreams too closely to let something like that slip by. But the last few weeks, he’d been absorbed in his newest little pet project, exhausted and stressed by whatever it was he refused to talk about. Shen Qingqiu didn’t blame him for having one night of sleep without constant vigilance.

“So the imposter shows himself,”Dream-Binghe said, and ah, what an odd thing to dream up! Shen Qingqiu was just as good as the original goods, and he knew it! There was no way at all he had such insecurities, and certainly not any strong enough to appear as dreams! If he’d had such dreams before, that was simply a coincidence, a trick of the mind repeating the scenario it’d already created to avoid making a new one.

But Binghe doesn’t rant and rave at him for lying, doesn’t call out his betrayal. Instead, his eyes hard and cold, his claws tight where they dig into his wrists, he questions him.

Why?

I don’t know, Shen Qingqiu has to answer. I woke up in this body.

Where is he?

I don’t know, he answers again.

How long?

Here, Shen Qingqiu bites down a cry of pain as his left arm his yanked painfully out, a loud pop as it tugs out of his socket. The pain is real, he realizes deliriously. It’s real the way the Punishment Protocol had been. The thought makes ice pool in his chest.

What had he done to deserve a punishment from the System?

The hand tightens, the bones in his wrist creaking ominously at the strength of the hold.

The look in Binghe’s eyes hurts far more, though. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t even notice the tears in his eyes until they’re spilling over, until his voice comes out as a broken warble.

“Years,”He whispers at last, aware he’s hammering the final nail into his coffin.

It’s only as his arm is yanked away, as muscle and sinew tears with a sickening squelch, that it occurs to him. The punishment protocol had worked by sharing his dreamscape with the original Bingge. It hadn’t summoned nightmares out of no where.

This wasn’t Bingge. He’d known it on sight. Had recognized it in the curlier hair, the taller build.

This wasn’t Bingge. This was his husband.

And this wasn’t a dream.

XXX

Binghe watches as the pathetic worm scrambles away from him, gasping and hiccuping through his tears. His remaining arm shakes against the jagged edge of his stump, trying to stem the flow of blood. It won’t do a damn thing. This is a dream world, and that form is just a representation of his soul.

“I’m sorry,”It begs, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Binghe forgive me- “

“Do not call me that,” He hisses. This parasite had squirmed its way in, had settled in and gotten comfortable in its place as his husband, but that spot would only ever belong to his Shizun, his rightful Shizun. Everything else… everything else had been a lie!

“No!,”The imposter gasped. Had Binghe spoken out loud? “No, it wasn’t! I really- I really tried to be honest, I- I-“

It gulped, face pale and wan, tears spilling over its cheeks. Its voice dropped to a whimper.

“I loved you. I thought you loved me too.”

Luo Binghe let out a harsh laugh. So that was the plan? Replace his husband and try and make him grow attached? Try to squirm into his heart, when it was already spoken for?

“I could never love a pathetic fake!,”He snarled. “I’ve been planning your death from the moment I learned!”

The imposter sucked in a sharp breath. They stopped scrambling away, simply sitting before him, shaking and curled into themselves.

It didn’t try to run again as he stepped forward. Not even as he grabbed its leg and tore it from its body. It screamed, and thrashed, but made no effort to pull itself away again.

Instead, the insolent wretch began muttering under his breath, a plea and a prayer in one. Begging for forgiveness, for the dream to end, for Binghe to wake him up. Pathetic. Had the imposter really fallen in love with him over the course of its tenure?

He dug his claws into the stump at its shoulder to stop it. The muttering broke into muffled cries, biting their lip as they struggled to hold them back. A habit he recognized from his husband. Disgusting, he thought, holding to the illusion for pity until the very last second.

“You’re just a cowardly weakling, leeching off of Shen Qingqiu. You fell in love with me? Then know this in your heart.”

Binghe dug his fingers in harder, harder, until his claws scrapped against the shattered bone of the socket and dug in. The parasite’s eyes nearly rolled back into its head as it jerked. Binghe lifted it off the ground by the bone, then held still until the worm caught its breath.

“I could never love the man before me. I would never have even looked at you twice had I known.”

Binghe expands his awareness to the dream world around him. From a greater distance, the soul of the imposter is more like a small flickering flame, a little glow between his hands, than a man.

It takes almost no effort at all, to close his fist around it and smother the flame.

XXX

Binghe wakes up in the morning, ecstatic to finally be done with this journey and desperate for love from his husband who he’s apparently not seen in years.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wake up with him.

Shen Qingqiu doesn’t wake up at all.

XXX

Anyway now that I’ve officially written a short version of it I want y’all to know that Shang Qinghua would be the one to tell him, after rushing over when he gets an alert that the account of User 002 was deactivated.

Binghe gets to metaphorically self-destruct, realizing everything he said and did was to his own husband and not an assumed imposter. The world shapes itself to Binghe’s wishes, and he still has access to the holy mausoleum, so he manages to bring back Shen Qingqiu. I debated having him bring back Shen Jiu instead but I love the protagonist of any book I read, and that includes Shen Yuan, so instead he brings back his husband whose heartbroken and runs off, with a new level of instinctive terror to go along with it. Binghe really does try to give him room, but that does neither of them good because Binghe drowns in his guilt and the confirmation of his husband’s fear, and Shen Yuan drowns in his heartbreak and confirmation of his husband’s rejection.

The happy ending comes after a slowburn of binghe groveling and breaking himself down(a la Lost and Found in Limitless Clarity) with a side of both being left with new insecurities to add to the existing ones post-canon.

(And if Binghe now dreams of the delicate flicker of a soul between his hands, now jolts awake to the reminder of how small it was, how easy to smother, well-

-it’s the least he deserves, isn’t it?)

#I really did mean to only type a synopsis #but it got away from me lol #at least it’s out now #considering cleaning it up and posting to AO3 #svsss #scum villain self saving system #scum villain #bingyuan #Bingqiu #luo binghe #Shen yuan #Shen Qingqiu #mxtx #writing #edit:#Tw torture #can’t believe I forgot that lol

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malk1ns · 1 year

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36. things you said but didn’t mean (sidgeno)

tell me you're not over contractgate without saying you're not over contractgate...

thanks anon! the prompt list is here :)

Zhenya’s phone has been going off since the news broke last night.

He turned it off after he signed his contract and got confirmation it was received; he wanted to go to bed without constant interruptions, actually get some sleep after an emotional and exhausting couple of days. He hadn’t been that successful, but he’d at least woken up and for a few minutes been able to pretend that it was just a regular day, that nothing dramatic had happened to him recently, and all he’d have on his phone were the usual drunk messages from Sasha begging him to come back to Moscow early and a few good-morning emojis from Sid.

After he finished his tea, though, he couldn’t avoid it any longer, and he reluctantly took his phone into the living room, hoping that maybe the background murmur of the TV would lessen the blow.

It did not.

The TV is on, sure, but Zhenya had to turn it to mute—the morning news clashing with the constant pinging and buzzing as his phone frantically tried to alert him to every missed call, text, email, telegram, WhatsApp, instagram DM, snapchat, and tweet was giving him a pounding headache. And two hours later, he’s just barely climbing out from under it, deleting the majority of the notifications unread and focusing his attention on responding to teammates and the guys who are still lingering around Miami for the summer. The rest of the Russians and his family can wait—his parents will understand, and he doesn’t care about pissing Sasha off.

There’s one conversation that’s been pushed all the way to the bottom of his iMessages, inactive since yesterday morning. Zhenya’s scrolled past it a few times, but can’t bring himself to click on it.

Finally, when he finds himself actually contemplating responding to fans’ DMs with apologies for making them worry, he forces himself to open the last things Sid texted him, right after their fight.

hanging up on me? seriously?

this isn’t my fucking fault

and now you’re ignoring me? fucking awesome

whatever man. i don’t have to deal with this shit from you. i’m sick of your bs whenever you’re not getting your way. do whatever the fuck you want, i’ll find out what sorry team signs you tomorrow afternoon

Zhenya feels a little sick, reading it back now. He’d been so angry when he’d hung up on Sid, screaming at him like he hated him. Some of the stuff he’d said…he can’t blame Sid for being upset.

There are Flyers fans from their early years in the league who’d love to take notes on what Zhenya said to Sid yesterday.

Sid’s weathered Zhenya’s temper before, though—let him rant and rave and calmed him down with just the right words, and eventually, just the right touch. He’s always known when to leave Zhenya alone and when to engage, just like Zhenya knows how to handle Sid’s bursts of anger and the rest of his quirks. It’s why they work, it’s why they’ve always worked.

Now, though, staring at a conversation that hasn’t been updated in over 24 hours, Zhenya wonders if he finally said something that Sid can’t forgive. What else would have kept him from sending a message when he got the news that Zhenya was staying after all?

Screwing up his courage, Zhenya presses ‘dial’ and waits, holding his breath.

When it goes straight to voicemail, he wonders for a second if he really will pass out.

call me pls he fires off, sinking into the couch and rubbing his hand over his face when the message stays green.

He fucked it up for real this time, then. And now he’s tied himself to Sid’s team for the rest of his career, when Sid’s never going to talk to him again—or worse, he will, but in that freezingly polite voice he uses with annoying reporters and former teammates who have fallen out of his favor.

Zhenya wonders if Hextall would be able to trade him, even with the dramatics of the last 36 hours. Surely someone would be able to accommodate his new, reduced cap hit.

He’s not sure how long he sits on his couch, the TV playing soundlessly and his phone slack in his hand, but when his lock starts to turn, it sounds like a gunshot.

“Fuck,” Zhenya hisses, scrambling to retrieve his phone where it had fallen when he jumped. Probably Seryozha; old man never knows when to mind his own business.

When the door is finally open, though, the voice that floats through from the foyer is distinctly Canadian. “G?”

“Sid??” Zhenya says incredulously, jumping to his feet and almost tripping over his couch on his way to the hall.

Against all odds, it is Sid in his hallway, raggedy in his sweats and with bruise-dark circles under his eyes. He has one of his plain black caps crammed over his head, and the curls escaping from the sides are greasy.

“You’re staying,” Sid says, dropping his duffle. He looks small, shoulders uncharacteristically hunched in, and Zhenya moves toward him before he remembers what happened.

“I’m not sure you see,” he says cautiously. Sid seems skittish, darting his eyes around Zhenya’s condo like he’s never been here before. “I try to call, it’s voicemail. Sid, you’re here?”

“Oh, I was on the plane…I think my phone died while I was in the air, I don’t have a charger, can I plug it in somewhere?” Sid’s fumbling in his pocket. He won’t meet Zhenya’s eyes.

“Sid,” Zhenya says, concerned now, moving closer just as Sid sways forward alarmingly. “Sid! Jesus, come sit down.”

“Sorry,” Sid says faintly, letting Zhenya manhandle him into the living room and down on the couch. Zhenya remembers when they went to pick it out, how Sid had spent hours thoughtfully trying every couch in the store until the salesman looked like he was about to scream, before finally convincing Zhenya that this boring beige monstrosity was the right choice. He’d been correct, of course; this one is big and deep, and even ten years later still the most comfortable piece of furniture Zhenya owns.

“You’re sick?” Zhenya asks, plucking Sid’s phone from his hands and plugging it in. “Need water, maybe, or like, soup?”

“No,” Sid says with a deep sigh, settling back into the cushions and cracking his neck. “I’m fine. I’ve been traveling since last night, I haven’t slept…I’m just tired.”

“Last—” Zhenya snaps his mouth shut when Sid looks at him steadily. Last night, when his contract extension was announced. “Sid, I…”

“No,” Sid says firmly. “Listen. I get you were mad. I…well, I don’t know what it felt like, but I understand. And we both said some things…” He heaves a sigh. “I didn’t mean what I texted you. I’m not sick of you. I want to deal with your shit.” He looks down at his hands, twisted up in his lap. “I…you promised me. Do you remember?”

Zhenya does. After their first Cup, when they’d been so sure that they’d be back the next year, and the year after that. He and Sid had been tucked away together in a corner of Mario’s backyard, passing a bottle of shitty flat champagne back and forth and watching the sun rise. They’d been talking, but after a while it had faded to nothing, just quiet company, shoulders pressed together as the next day arrived.

“You’ll stay, right?” Sid had said abruptly, and Zhenya had looked at him, bleary-eyed and confused. “Here, in Pittsburgh. With me. You’ll stay? Even after your next contract?”

It hadn’t been a question that needed answering, in Zhenya’s eyes, but he’d answered anyway, leaning over and tilting Sid’s chin up and kissing him before whispering, “I stay always. Promise.”

He’d meant it then. He meant it last night, when he put pen to paper and signed away the rest of his playing career. He’d meant it when he was spitting invective at Sid over the phone, too, swearing he’d leave and sign somewhere the front office actually gave a shit about him.

“I never forget,” he says now, sitting next to Sid on the couch. “I’m so sorry, Sid, I’m like, I don’t know what I say to you. It’s such horrible things…I’m not mean, I swear. What do I do for forgive?”

When he looks over, Sid’s eyes are squeezed shut, but there’s a tear trickling down one cheek anyway. “I know you didn’t,” he chokes out. “I know, but…I was scared, G. I never really thought you’d leave me, and then…”

He opens his eyes and glares fiercely at Zhenya. “Fuck you for saying all that shit,” he spits, and Zhenya bows his head, because he deserves it. “Fuck you for doing that to me.” He sticks his hands in his hoodie’s front pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. Zhenya goes very still.

“I had to stop in Pittsburgh, on my way here,” Sid says, turning the box over in his hands. “I’ve had this…well, I had ideas, but we haven’t exactly made the most of the last couple of playoffs, so.” He snorts humorlessly. “We might not ever again, so I’m not sure what the point of waiting is.”

Sid flicks the box open. Inside there’s a ring, nestled in satin, shining bright. It’s gold, with beveled edges cut through with black striations, and thick; something that won’t look out of place on Zhenya’s big hands. If he knows Sid, there will be something on the inside—a date, maybe, or even a time.

“You don’t deserve this right now,” Sid says quietly, lifting Zhenya’s right hand and sliding the ring on. “And I’m not sure I deserve to be asking, either. But maybe that’s the point, eh? We’re still here.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says, splaying his fingers out to admire the ring, then folding his hands around Sid’s.

“Yes to what?” Sid asks, a bit of amusement lacing into his voice.

“Yes to everything,” Zhenya replies. “Everything, with you.”

#this one's weird; sorry i had a weird day!#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic

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trashogram · 29 days

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Little Octavia slowly realizing her parents can’t stand each other. She starts to feel their hostile energy whenever they’re in the same room together and it upsets her. It’s frightening. She can’t stop hearing their screaming matches echoing down the hall. She tried to stop them once, running in with tears streaming down her face. The crying only made them more vicious toward each other, blaming each other for upsetting her.

Little Octavia becoming meek and docile, leaving behind her innocence just to pacify her parents and keep them from being toxic to each other because it’s scary and makes her tummy hurt. She doesn’t know it but she’s developed an anxiety disorder.

Octavia listening to her mother’s ranting and raving about how awful Stolas is, and they bond through a common enemy whenever he’s not around. Octavia soothes her father as he mourns his own life and bitterly jabs at Stella. Octavia never stops smiling even when it hurts. She’s the victim of parentification and if she isn’t helpful, the guilt and shame will eat at her mercilessly.

Octavia begins to feel exhausted every day despite getting enough sleep. The thought of another day drains her so much that she can barely get out of bed. Her parents show some concern, but are too wrapped up in themselves to be there for her for very long.

Octavia hates the way her parents treat their staff. Everyone is so much smaller than her parents and their friends. Octavia is so much smaller. She starts to feel sick when an imp is tossed aside like trash, or a Hellhound protecting them goes unacknowledged. Why are they so thoughtlessly cruel?

Nothing tastes good anymore. Octavia always feels nauseous, and has for years. She would prefer not to eat, or even drink sometimes. She just wants to stay in her room with the lights off and the curtains drawn. She wants the music to drown out her racing thoughts and the memories that creep up like ivy.

Octavia feels like daggers are piercing through her heart even though Stolas hasn’t said anything, just looks dismayed. She’s tried this grimoire spell several times now and it’s not working. The magic doesn’t flow from her claws like it does for her father. His reassuring smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he tells her that it’s okay.

Octavia fights the tears that threaten to fall as her mother huffs disappointedly when she stumbles through her curtsies and her dances with other Goetia lords and ladies. Stella waves it off and kisses Via’s cheeks later, but her affection is half-hearted and mired in discontent.

Via’s peers give her funny looks when she speaks, because she’s been silent and standing at the edge of the group like a haunting specter all this time. She makes a tiny mistake and the embarrassment is so strong that she can feel panic invading her lungs.

Octavia cries quietly in her room. A thought comes in the midst of her self-loathing — she wouldn’t be so stupid and incompetent if her parents taught her how to do these things instead of expecting her to know it all already.

Octavia cries harder, ashamed of herself.

Her father is caught sleeping with another man and Octavia feels her heart stop. She knows that Stolas and Stella can’t stand each other, but it’s still a shock. The betrayal feels like a physical blow, like Octavia stood shaking with this household on her shoulders all this time and now it’s crashing down. Everything splinters and scatters, glass shatters, and the rot in the walls and hiding underneath the floor starts to reveal itself.

Her parents are divorcing. Her father is happy for the first time since Octavia can remember, and her mother is sulking but still has her machinations. They stomp on the remains of the house she tried so hard to keep together as they go their separate ways.

Octavia feels something deep inside of her break as her father shouts that she is the only reason that Stolas and Stella have remained in a loveless union. She is the reason that they were forced to be together, miserable.

Octavia thinks that if she didn’t exist, none of this would have happened.

She’s numb everyday. Hell keeps burning, but Octavia can’t care. Her parents pick up on the change when she can no longer pretend to agree with them or feed into their delusions. Their confusion, their anger, their concern — it can’t hurt her anymore. She’s dead inside.

Little things get past the murky glass that contains her. She looks at her mother one day and thinks ‘I can’t stand you’. She listens to her father prattle on and thinks ‘you’re not capable of love’.

There’s a date on the calendar that was marked with a promise long ago. Octavia blacks it out before she tears the calendar into pieces that she then sends flying out the window. She only needs the bag in her closet with her whole life inside. It won’t stir any attention when she leaves and never comes back.

#Octavia Goetia #helluva boss #tw child abuse #tw ed #tw mental illness #angst

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ebonysplendor · 7 months

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I'm Sorry WHAT? 👁️👁️ (Small Flex and Perfect Love Follow Up...?)

Not gonna lie, this isn't a review, this is just to flex and, quite frankly, somewhat of a follow up to my Perfect Love Review but anyways!

Allow me to fucking flex for a second because I'm sorry WHAAAAT?

Wait, but it gets better because, do y'all see the first part?

Are you telling me this dev -- not just this dev, but the dev that made the masterpiece that was Perfect Love -- not only knows that I exist, but they follow me and has been following me??????? Even still, if they don't follow me and have just been revisiting my page every now and then, are you telling me that they knew I existed BEFORE that review???? And they like -- no, LOVE? -- the way that I write my reviews?!

I'm sorry, and I mean this in the most humble way, please, allow me to just...

I'm lightheaded. This is too much serotonin. What an experience to add to all my other happy memories.

For the sake of my health, I'll scream more about that later, but the part I'm more concerned about is this

Wait what...?

I'm gonna be real with y'all, I totally forgot that there was another ending until I revisited the game page -- which I didn't forget about the project I assigned. It was due last week, but I'll extend it to today, so get on that and download it and damned play it -- that I remembered "Oh yeah! The secret ending!" but this ain't about that! Find it on your own! I ain't spoiling that for you! What this is about, however, is not being conceited and inserting a name that wasn't my own, so if you'll excuse me and allow me to do that.

*Puts in THE name* I'm sorry, what????? *Goes back puts the OTHERS' -- yes!, otherS, with an 's'! -- names* I'm sorry, WHAT???? *Makes Milo's nicknames THE nicknames** I'M SORRY WHAAAAAAAT?????

Y'all...it gets deeper. There's more. There's certain dialogues that gets unlocked. I am floored.

In conclusion, and as a follow up no one asked for: this is the only visual novel that matters now. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

...

Now, I'm off to write about another visual novel to recommend everyone lol, and, who knows, maybe I'll find a new favorite to rant and rave to you all about. Hopefully, you'll stick around for it!

This isn't a review, but still, drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around! Until next time~!

P.S. Just some reassurance to the dev: I was absolutely not disappointed with the Milos, and Eris do be overdramatic, but the way they're written is so beautifully toxic. I gotta give them props, though: They knew what they want, and they were kinda boss for going after it and not settling. Lil psycho about it, sure, but still pretty boss. Good for them...even if it cost them an arm and a leg. Haaaaa, get it? I mean...not the arm, but...the joke still works, right? ^^;

#yandere visual novel #yandere vn #visual novel #yandere #yande.re #yandere boy #male yandere #tiny flex #small flex #proud moment #random post

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enforcerrinzler · 10 months

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/* not specifically one of the prompts from the captured meme, but inspired by it... Hope this works? --@not-that-dillinger */

Coming here turned out to be the worst of Ed's impulsive ideas, to date. Picking the lock on Flynn's arcade to go exploring? Bad impulsive decision number one. Sure, that was technically trespassing, but he was just looking around, no harm there, and that part of town had long since been abandoned, it wasn't like he was going to get caught.

In hindsight, getting caught there might have been the better outcome. Then he wouldn't have found the hidden basement, or The Computer. (And oh, wasn't that creepy. He still remembered his father's disembodied voice coming out of it. He'd had nightmares of it clear through middle school, he did not need that again.) He should have turned around and gone home, or to a bar or somewhere a reasonable person would go after a long day at the office, but no. Bad impulse decision number two: hacking into Flynn's computer. Again, technically illegal, but. Maybe he cold solve the mystery of where Flynn had disappeared to?

...And that had led directly to bad impulse decision number three: shooting himself with a high powered laser.

To his credit, Ed knew what the laser was. His father had ranted and raved about it in what seemed like fits of madness when Ed was young. But. Yeah, could have gone way worse.

Naturally, Ed's first instinct on finding himself in a strange new world was to go explore. He was used to being cautious, aware of his surroundings when he was out, and quickly realized someone was following him. He tried to lose them in the not-so-dark alleys of the glowing city, taking turns at random until--

--he'd turned a corner and came face to face with five others, all wearing masks, and realized he'd walked right into their trap. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was one of the programs throwing something small and round at him, and the thick white smoke it emitted.

...

He awoke in a cell, some time later. At first, he tried to just... sit and observe, figure out where he was, and who had captured him, and why.

Except, there wasn't much beyond the two guards posted at the end of the connecting hallway, and it didn't take long before his claustrophobia made him feel anxious.

"Hey!" he screamed at the guards. "Let me out!!!"

The guard made a gesture that Ed couldn't quite see, but could safely assume was rude.

Ed continued to scream at the guards, because there wasn't much else he could do. He may have been trapped, but they also stuck with him.

Except it turned out, the guards could do something about that, and one of them marched over opened the cell, and--

--Oh. They had staves.

Ed lay in his cell, some time later, out of breath and everything aching. He was certain he had a cracked rib, if not more. And a broken nose from the way it was bleeding.

And broken glasses.

It was some time later that Ed heard footsteps approaching his cell. Everything still hurt, but he hauled himself to his feet anyway. "Come back for round two, asshole?" he asked.

In response, the guard disabled the force field that enabled his cell, and shoved someone else inside.

Then they reactivated the force field, and walked away.

Ed sighed, and sank back down in his corner heavily. He eyed the blur of his fellow prisoner warily.

Rinzler hit the ground hard, barely managing to cover his helmet with his arms to avoid it getting even more damaged. One of the guards had decided to use Rinzler’s helmet as an emotional outlet after he had gotten a nasty hit in on one of them. Any assistive programming in their helmet was completely offline and the glass had multiple cracks with a few bits missing from the back as well.

Usually, Rinzler would have turned and grabbed the guard’s ankle before they could leave. Would have tackled the program and forced them to guide him to the exit or derezzed them with his claws if the guard refused. But it wasn’t just a shattered helmet and pounding head that was keeping Rinzler down. His captors had latched a bizarre mechanism over his disc and dock that made his whole body ache and every move just seemed to make the mechanism dig in even more. It was frustrating and humiliating beyond belief to be thrown into this cell like a helpless beta, they were supposed to be better than this. Not to fall for some poor young program that had been forced to act as bait. They should have seen through it. Rinzler swore to themself that they would derezz every single one of those who had done this.

When the blurry room finally stopped spinning Rinzler was just able to focus enough to hear the sound of ragged breathing above his own broken clicking purr. He wasn’t alone. The Enforcer looked up towards the sound, spying the blurry figure. They couldn’t see any bit of light on the figure that could indicate their alliance, in fact they couldn’t see any circuitry at all.

“Identify, program.” Rinzler shakily pushed himself up into a sitting position, keeping his gaze on the figure in case this was just another trap.

@not-that-dillinger

#initializing system…#File Five #not-that-dillinger #ic #// a this is great! I’m so excited for Ed and Rinz to meet!#Rinlzer 🤝 Ed: Shitty vision and not having a good time

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joesalw · 6 months

Note

So last year I was in the line to buy Eras tickets for my niece who is a big fan. It was a shitshow and I had a special code yet the line hadn't moved for hours. I almost gave up but decided to see if it was a site wide issue and everyone was having the same issue. I did a tumblr search and came across the cages blog and my mind was blown. She was having a full blown meltdown screaming into the abyss saying she hopes Taylor knows that everyone at the concert are going to be people who hate her, not true fans. Just ranting and raving and blaming Taylor. Then a couple hours later when she got tickets it was like it never happened. This from a woman in her 30s (!) who had met Taylor and been to several (if not all) the concerts. She then secured tickets to at least 8 shows and started to boo hoo when anons called her out for her temper tantrum and hypocrisy. I learned what I needed - it was a site wide issue, but damn, I wish I hadn't learned it that way. I still think about that from time to time. I read a few other things on that blog. That woman needs an intervention. It is really unhealthy.

I guess her fans are as impulsive as her lmao😭 and what does she mean by being a real fan? like being parasocially obsessed with taylor and discussing her dating/sex life like an oracle reader? 🗿

#funny how cages mirrors taylor #anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni #this is ridiculous

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amefuyuu · 1 year

Text

Atonement

WARNING: This is a Translation of a draft for an alternate end for the game 'The House in Fata Morgana

Also known as the redemption route

*This is a concept/pilot, not a side story. Please note that it is not written in detail.

*This contains spoilers for the primary and side stories of Fatamoru, so please be warned if you have not played Fatamoru yet.

The route is what would have happened if Jacopo had decided to abandon his plan of keeping Morgana trapped in the tower to use her blood.

Jacopo abandons his original plan at the tower's top floor. (After Yukimasa's line "What then, my lord?")

He tries to take the delirious Morgana back to the Lord's mansion.

*I will not reveal myself as the young man who was a slave.

He tries to shake off Barnier's hallucinatory voice and get Morgana out and away from the tower. Whether he reveals the truth or not can wait.

He then sends Yukimasa on his way, with the understanding that he will be rewarded for his work at a later date.

Yukimasa is sure that he will be stubborn about the issue of the nuns, so that we will talk about that later, too, he said.

Believing Jacopo is Lord Barnier, Morgana vehemently rejects his attempts to touch her.

He tries to convince her to be quiet and that he does not want to hurt her anymore, but his desperate attempts do not work because her mind is already broken, and she continues hallucinating.

She may wear out and die if she continues to rant and rave.

However, if I took her outside in this state, the eyes of the people in town would be focused on her. It would be too late to take her back to the Lord's mansion.

Jacopo chokes up as Morgana continues to scream, "Don't touch me! Let go of me, or I'll curse you!". Then, he takes specific measures to force her to be quiet.

It was to frighten her.

"Shut up!"

He didn't want to say this; he didn't want to hurt her anymore, but he couldn't think of any other way. He only knew how to use force to intimidate and threaten. He used to not be like that, but he doesn't know how to do anything else.

Morgana is frightened by the threat of Jacopo.

Jacopo grits his teeth and continues his threats.

"Rant any longer, and I'll hurt you in worse ways than I did seven years ago!"

Morgana glared at the Lord with hatred. Then, in a low, calm voice, she said, "Go to hell."

As a youth, she told me many times to "go to hell."

But the barbed words also contained a softness that made it clear that she was joking.

There is no hint of softness like that in her words now.

It was a hell of a lot of heartfelt hatred.

Jacopo begins to descend the watchtower with her in his arms. He puts his shawl over her and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible as he exits.

We left the church and entered the carriage waiting for us on the street.

"My lord, you're back earlier than expected--...... eh!"

The coachman was stunned by the sight of Morgana.

"Get the carriage moving!"

Then, they return to the Lord's mansion on the hill.

The entourage and servants are taken aback by the Lord's expression and the state of the girl he is carrying.

"What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain later. Call the doctor!"

"Ha, ha!"

The doctor stationed at the manor arrives quickly, carrying Morgana into the bedroom.

"What the hell happened to this girl ......?"

"I used to know her! She got injured like this for a reason. Get her treated as soon as possible!"

"Oh, yes, sir."

A cloth is wrapped around the stump of Morgana's severed left arm that Yukimasa had used to stop the bleeding.

The doctor strips off the cloth to check the wound.

Once again, Jacopo despairs that his orders have hurt her so much.

Still, he continues to act nonchalant because he is in front of others.

By that time, Morgana is also exhausted and falls unconscious.

The bedroom remained noisy, with doctors and servants hurrying in and out.

After a while, the doctor tells me there was little he could do for Morgana, with a look of concern on Jacopo's face. Fortunately, the cross-section was clean, and he said that if I kept changing the disinfectant and hemostatic clothes day after day, the wound would eventually close up.

Now we just have to wait and see.

The doctor, his entourage, and the servants all stand back, and Jacopo sits beside her as she sleeps.

How did this happen? What should we do from now on? What should we do?

His heart was filled with anguish.

◇◇◇

Two days later, Morgana regains consciousness.

But as soon as she sees Jacopo - the Lord's face, she shows intense fear and anger and falls into a near panic.

No matter what he says or how much he denies it, she cries out, "Stop humiliating me any further!"

She even begs Jacopo to kill her.

At first, Jacopo tries to speak kindly to her, but gradually, he too becomes cornered by her words and eventually yells back.

Just as he is about to become exhausted from this repetition, Yukimasa comes to seek an audience with him.

He is almost entirely out of his mind, and his face shows his upset at Yukimasa's visit. It's not like him.

Forcing himself to remain calm, he says, "If it's about the reward, wait until we call you here," but Yukimasa says, "It's not about that. I told you there was a mistake. I thought I'd better tell you that."

Yukimasa then tells me he used a third party to capture the witch.

Jacopo is stunned.

"I told you to keep things private!"

"But I wasn't going to be able to catch the witch by myself."

"Then you shouldn't have come back then! Then she wouldn't be in this state!"

"My Lord. You told me that you knew the witch from long ago, but is there more to it than that?"

"......tch......"

"Because you looked more than horrified by her state."

“Ugh, shut up and stop prying into my affairs!"

"If I had known the witch was important to you, I wouldn't have done what I did. Because the witch was a little special to me, too."

"What the hell ......?"

Yukimasa speaks of what happened four years ago. He told Jacopo that Morgana was there when he killed the carriage of slaves. He also told Jacopo of what she told him at that time. She said it was hard for her not to say thank you to the people she cared about.

Jacopo was stunned.

"I don't think that was you."

"........."

I can't even answer that. I wanted to scream back that it wasn't, but it would all fit if I said it was four winters ago. She, too, cherished those days.

And yet, my orders have driven her to this point.

The person who should have done it least had done it.

"............ lord...... hey, lord."

My consciousness jolted back to normal. My heart tightens. My breath is labored. Despite the pain, Jacopo tries to go back to his usual self. But he could no longer make his usual mocking face.

"Who is the third party that you involved?"

"He's a young man. If you need to keep him quiet, order me to do it. It will be no problem to kill him."

Jacopo, unable to think straight, thinks it might be better to kill him. But he stops and asks for a description of the person he is dealing with. He learns that the young man is a noble and becomes increasingly bitter.

"Don't kill him, It could get nasty. Anyway, threaten the man as much as you can. If he has a weakness, make the most of it. Don't let him talk about what happened. I'll give you the money, all right?"

"If it's a job, I'll take it. I need the money, too."

Jacopo nodded and, in a self-disappointed manner, rewarded him for capturing the witch.

"I don't need that," Yukimasa said.

"You're the one who said you need the money."

"I guess we've had our differences on this one," he said. "I realize I'm an outsider, but I still think it's wrong to accept money in this situation. To put the current situation in perspective, I'm talking about this: You almost sacrificed your precious woman for money without knowing it."

"............"

"If you give me the money, you will corner your conscience even more."

"Don't...... talk about me ...... like you know me ......."

"I don't know anything about you, but I can see it in your face."

"............"

"I don't have anyone to tell. I don't even want the nuns to know."

"............"

"My lord."

"What the hell."

"I have to go. I will report on the nobleman later, and you will reward me. Is that clear?"

"Oh"

"You should go back to your room and look in the mirror. You look horrid."

".........."

Jacopo would cut off all his official duties for the day and leave them to his entourage. He would never have done such a thing under normal circumstances because he thought that no one was capable of proper politics. He had to realize that, at the moment, he was more useless than anyone else.

In his interactions with Yukimasa, he is reminded of the magnitude of the sins he has committed. He thought of those important people. In this state, there is no way he can confess that he is the young man from back then. The young man who had once saved Morgana is now dragging her into despair - her heart would break even more if she knew that. What would happen if things got worse than they already were? I don't even want to think about it.

Jacopo cannot tell the truth and continues to deal with the broken Morgana.

◇◇◇

They end up hurting each other. Morgana remains in an abnormal state of mind, her eyes wandering and unsteady, and she begins to hear auditory hallucinations, even screaming, when no one is in the bedroom.

'The nobles are laughing as they drink my blood!' Those blood sabbats of years past are being replayed in her mind.

If I could, I would have taken her hand and told her it would be okay, like in the past, that nothing would hurt her anymore. But I brought this on myself. How could I hold her hand after what I've done?

Still, after nearly a month, Morgana is no longer delirious at the sight of Jacopo. Instead, she looks at him with hatred. Her hatred is directed solely at the "lord."

Now that she can converse, Jacopo tells her that although she hates him as a lord, he has no intention of hurting her anymore. He wants to make amends and has no right to say this, but he wants to protect her.

"What's going on, my Lord? What are you up to this time?"

"I have no agenda. I only regret that I let you become like this."

"............"

"Please, you have to believe me."

"Yet your words change nothing."

"Is it too late to go back? Is it too late for me to do anything?"

"Go back? What do you expect to return to in this state of affairs?"

Morgana's condition was a little better - but she could still not do anything alone. This was even more damaging to her dignity. She once tried to get up and run away but couldn't walk and fell, injuring herself even more.

Jacopo tries desperately to convince Morgana. "If you want to get out of here, so be it. I'm not going to constrain you anymore. I have every intention of letting you go. But if you're going to do that, at least do it when you can move on your own, and let me take care of you until then."

And here he realizes what kind of person he is.

He can only choose one.

At that moment, he decides to abandon the plan to gain power and to continue standing as a lord.

Everything that influences him now is her, the person that she is.

◇◇◇

The opinions of the other lords, Jacopo's entourage, and his vassals also decline.

"He was arrogant, but he was good at his job. But what about now? He has become a coward since he started spending time with that unknown girl."

"I thought he would return to normal after a month, but I was naive. That man is getting more and more abnormal."

"If things continue as they are, continuing politics is out of the question."

"I've been denied an audience with him for the past month."

"......."

One day, an aide calls Jacopo. By then, he could no longer be as irreverent as he had been. No matter what was said, he could only reply with a sad look and an "ah."

"Please get a grip on yourself. The people are in trouble if you are in such a state."

But even so, just being away from the bedroom like this, I am so concerned about Morgana that I can't think about anything else.

What would Odilon do in such a situation? I was so weak that I relied on a deceased stranger in such a way.

The thought crossed my mind that I should just give up the title of Lord - yes, give it to a distant relative who could claim the title through succession - but if I were no longer Lord, I would have no way to provide her with proper medical care or nourishing food. At the current moment, all of his thoughts were focused on Morgana.

The other Lord and his entourage persuaded Jacopo to come to the audience chamber to discuss his future with him and the other vassals.

On the way down the corridor, I pass a servant.

I suddenly notice something strange as I approach the audience chamber's door. Was that servant the one who had been there before?

The aide said, "He has been here this whole time. The other lords are tired as well. Please refresh yourselves a little before moving on to business."

The aide then opens the door. On the other side, the vassals are waiting.

A bad premonition washes over him. Jacopo quickly turns away from the audience chamber and runs. His aide grabs his arm, "Wait!" but he shakes it off.

He runs through the hallway back to his bedroom. But it is locked from the inside. He kicks it open and goes inside. There, a servant raises a sword and is about to kill Morgana.

He leaps at the servant and draws the dagger he had been carrying. He slashes the assassin's throat, and there is a huge spray of blood.

"Morgana!!!!"

Jacopo tries to check on her, but she is afraid of him, who is drenched in blood, and calls him a murderer. She is scared of Jacopo. Why? I protected you from this man. I drew my weapon for that purpose. Why should I be feared more?

" No, she deserved it! It was you who was the deciding factor in destroying her spirit. It's beyond unreasonable to ask for her gratitude."

Jacopo begins to ponder the situation. Up until now, the assassins had been directed at him. But now it is she who is in the way. It is not safe for her to stay here. Who sent this assassin? Was it his entourage? If so, let's bury that close associate first, and then...

No, that shouldn't be the only reason.

Wasn't that what the vassals waiting in the audience chamber had planned?

Then what should we do? Bury them all? How? You don't even know who to order to do what at the earliest opportunity? Do you think you alone will slaughter them all?

It's a dead end.

There is no ally here!

"Morgana ...... let's...... run away from here."

Jacopo wanders up to her side and reaches for her hand. Of course, Morgana refuses with all her might. He pleads with her, "Please, your life is in danger if you stay here! I don't want to frighten you anymore and force you to do what I say. I don't care if you hate me, so please do what I say."

"............"

"Please ......!"

Morgana's wary and hateful look didn't change, but she shut her mouth. Jacopo told her bitterly, "Thank you," and left the room with her.

Vassals rush in as they exit the corridor.

"My Lord! Please change your mind! You are now betraying us and all the other lords!"

"Please put aside your personal feelings!"

"We did not just unleash an assassin on that girl because of a personal grudge!"

"By extension, for the sake of the people, and--for your sake!"

"Shut up!" he yells, fleeing from the Lord's mansion.

They Go to the stables and take one of the horses.

Then they ride into the city streets.

◇◇◇

When I looked back, the city was a long way away.

Seeing the city in the distance drives me to another level of suffering.

This land has continued to be ruled by my hands despite numerous betrayals. Even now, merchants come and go along the streets. They can devote themselves to business this way because I have led them.

I lost everything I had built up.

No money, position, power, or anything else exists in these hands.

Jacopo forced his gaze away from the city and continued on the street.

All I can do now is protect her.

]No, protecting is a stretch.

Only to make amends with her.

They continue for a while and arrive at an inn. They rent a room and spend the night, but when Jacopo wakes up, Morgana is gone. He hurriedly looks for her and finds her outside. He then releases the horse he has hitched.

Morgana tells him that she refuses to be held by him when she rides her horse, which she dismisses as painful.

He held his head up.

Morgana starts to say that she will walk on her own. But she hasn't recovered enough to walk yet, Jacopo says. Morgana says she will still walk because she doesn't want to touch him, and Jacopo nods and says he understands.

But she was still in no condition to walk alone.

She wobbles and is about to fall. Jacopo takes her hand.

"Only my hand," he tells her, taking in her hatred. "Let me hold your hand."

(Event CG Draft 1)

(Event CG Proposal 2)

They proceeded slowly down the street. If they hurried, they would reach the next inn town, but their situation looked grim. He sold his necklace and rings for money and bought food from the peddlers.

"I'm glad we turned that town into a trading town. You can even get things on the street," he mutters wryly.

Making a fire by the side of the road, Jacopo prepares Morgana a meal of fruit and bread.

"I wish I had something a little more nourishing......"

"You are going to make me eat human flesh again ......"

"Oh! When did I do that?"

"You've made me do it in between feasts."

"............"

Oh, well, in her mind, he is still that Lord. He holds his head in his hands and resents Barnier's actions. 'He did something so horrible.... you're right to hate him with all your heart.'

The voice of Morgana, who shouted, "I will never forgive you!" reappears in the forefront of his mind. It is not wrong to receive that much hatred. 'But ...... I am not that man. The truth is that I am the person who rescued you from those horrible blood sabbats.'

"...... Morgana......I'm really......"

Can you say that now?

Her delirium is calming down a lot. It may be safe to confide everything to her. The man who once saved her from the previous lord has captured her and made her lose her arm - that fact may be too much and cause her to fall back into despair. But that was not his intention, and somehow, if you can convince her of that, you can make amends.

He makes up his mind and confides in her that he is not Lord Barnier.

But what came back was rejection.

“That young man is not an outcast like you."

“That young man would never order someone to cut off my arm."

“That young man was a gentle soul."

“He is nothing like you."

“Stop trying to undermine not only my life but my past!"

His heart is also breaking. What was initially cracked is spreading more and more.

Even if I told her, she would not believe me. His past self and his present self are so different. In her mind, those days and the person he was at that time was kind.

There is no way he can destroy those memories.

There is no going back.

I just wanted to get back to how things were with you.

A moan escapes his lips. Making amends is too high a hope at this point. I thought I could go back and start over - such a shallow wish had taken root in the corner of my mind, but that time had long passed.

Morgana gave Jacopo a fearful look and said, "Why did you start talking like that? Why did you suddenly start caring about me? What on earth are you up to?”

“What's your motive?”

“Without it, there would be no reason for you to treat me this way: ......"

"............"

“What are you up to, my Lord?”

“There's only one reason."

"............"

“I like you."

"............"

"I love you, and I'm here."

He raised his face slightly from his drooped position. Then he looks up to see her face. He knew that his confession would not be received favorably - but still, her cold gaze cut him to his core.

I didn't tell her my feelings for her to look at me that way.

"It is too sinful for someone like you to direct such feelings at another person."

"............"

"How could you do such things to me, and call that love!"

"............"

"Don't ever direct such feelings at me again!!!"

Is it no longer possible to express one's feelings? How could I take it back? How could I have stayed the same?

"Morgana......"

He tries to reach out to her. But she becomes more frightened and distances herself from him. The "love" she held for him was only an object of fear for her.

A catastrophic desire wells up within him.

If you can no longer get the message across, if you can no longer be identified with who you were, then if you are in a position to be hated for the rest of your life--

Right now, at this moment--

If you make her yours, your path will no longer be the same.

“Stay away from me."

Perhaps realizing his intentions, Morgana turns pale and tries to run away. But her legs give out, and she immediately collapses. Unable to get up quickly on one arm, she struggles to stand up.

Jacopo comes right up to her. He puts his hand on her shoulder. Then he pushes her down.

His gaze crosses with hers.

At that moment, he remembers what happened seven years ago. Like a flashback, her screams at that moment come back to him. Morgana was horrified that he had brought her to the brothel. She said she had to be pure as a saint.

Jacopo bites his lip and removes his hand from hers. He mustn't do just that. What a shallow and stupid idea I came up with. I have taken her arm. I have destroyed her heart. And now you want to defile her soul as well. Are you willing to fall that far?

“Don't be frightened. I won't step in any further. I promise. I won't hurt you anymore. Please believe that. I won't even tell you my feelings anymore."

◇◇◇

After a night, they start walking slowly again. However, they needed to figure out exactly where they should be heading or their goal.

I don't even know how long I walked. I don't know how many times she cursed me. I don't know how many times I apologized.

We were both no longer in our right minds.

Soon, the shore of a lake became visible in the distance. He realizes that this is where she used to live.

As I was about to walk in that direction, I heard something fall with a thud behind me.

I turned around and saw Mel with a pale face.

"Oh, oh!"

He suddenly turns his back and flees the scene. What the hell, Jacopo is surprised. (Jacopo and Mel have never met before during this route.)

Suddenly, Morgana shouts, "Traitor!"

Betrayal? What in the world did that man do to her? The questions grow while she suddenly tries to run.

But her vision is still warped, and she soon falls to her knees.

Seeing this, Jacopo runs and tries to catch Mel. He has to get the story out of him anyway.

Catching Mel was easy in itself. But he is delirious. He kept muttering incoherently, "Why?" and "It wasn't my fault," and "I'm sorry."

Morgana, who is unable to walk straight, approaches unsteadily.

He then asks a pale-faced Mel, "Why did you betray me?

Mel frantically shouts, "I didn't mean to do that. I didn't think that man would cut off your arm.

At that moment, Jacopo also understood who Mel was. This was the "mistake" the oriental had mentioned.

Jacopo gets mad, grabs Mel by the collar, and says, "Tell me what happened then.” Mel horrified, tells the story of what happened.

That he was given the blood of Morgana for his sister, and that one day, an oriental man visited him and threatened his sibling, He threatened me, saying, "I can't lure the witch out. You have to call her out with your voice.” So he stood before a hut by the lake with the oriental man and called out to her.

“I'm sorry I've been avoiding you, but I need to talk to you--"

“That's why I opened the door to ......! I would never have opened the door to anyone but you!"

Morgana's shrieking cry echoes.

Jacopo could imagine the scene in his mind. She had lived in that shack since the attack four years ago, trying to hide her existence. She did not know why she had opened her heart to this boy, but she had let her guard down until she opened the door to him.

Because she was so wary, the oriental had no choice but to use a third party. Since he had been ordered to not kill the witch, he probably did not want to force his way in.

Then Morgana asks Mel, "What happened to my arm?” Mel's expression becomes more and more pained.

Her arm? Surely there was some reason that that oriental had cut off her arm?

“My arm must have been your share!"

Jacopo felt his blood boil and anger welled up at the same time.

I realize again that the situation that led to her becoming this way was caused by the involvement of each of the three parties.

“What happened to my arm!"

“Uh, uh, your arm is......"

"What did you do with it!"

"I dumped it in the lake."

you threw it away?

Morgana is stunned.

Then why did they cut off my arm?

What the hell did I go through all this for?

“You did what you did because you wanted my blood."

"So why did you throw away my arm?"

Mel looked desperate and said, "I never said a word to him about cutting off your arm! He threatened me and my sister with his sword! I didn't think this would happen either. I didn't think that guy would do something like that! I thought we'd at least talk it out--"

Mel's voice breaks there. Jacopo had to hold back from punching him. He straddles Mel and grabs him by the shirt, gritting his teeth.

"Did you think you were going to discuss it ......? Did you think that a man who threatens someones sister with a sword would talk things out? You must have known from the beginning what would happen when he opened the door!"

“No, no, no, I didn't, I really..."

“First, Morgana should have been isolated from others! So why have rumors of her miraculous blood been spreading to the city!"

“That's…”

“Uh-uh.”

“Tell me!”

"No, it wasn’t me, it must have been my sister..."

Mel's recollection (narratively).

Feeling better again, Nellie had heard from Mel about the saint by the lake.

That it was a saint with miraculous blood who had cured her illness.

And that person is a real saint who even saved their birthplace with the rain of grace.

Nellie believed him, and she was innocently happy.

Then, they headed together to the trading post in town to make purchases.

There was a merchant there who knew her face. The merchant asked about Nellie's condition, and Nellie smiled and answered.

The saint who lives in the hut by the lake cured Nellie of her illness. The saint with the miraculous blood is a real saint who even saved her birthplace.

She said so proudly.

The rumor became that it was a witch instead of a saint because the rumor of the witch who lived by the lake was well known. Nellie's mention of a saint was forgotten, and in the end, it was conveyed only that "the witch who lives by the lake has miraculous blood.”

“If you hadn’t had anything to do with her!”

Jacopo raises an angry fist.

Mel finally looks cornered and Jacopo exclaims, "--in the first place!"

“The Lord gave the order to capture the witch, didn’t he?”

The raised fist stops.

Mel is oblivious and rants.

“I am a victim! The swordsman wouldn't have threatened me and my sister if the Lord hadn't given that order! I wouldn't have betrayed Morgana! The Lord is the root of all this evil!"

"............"

“I'm a victim of the lord! My life is a mess because of him!”

"......!......"

Jacopo swings his fist down. Mel holds back a whimper. His fist lands right next to Mel's head.

"Yes.... I'm the root of all evil....... I've known that from the very beginning!"

“What? If so, then your-"

“I am the Lord."

Mel is confused. Why is the Lord here, and what is his relation with Morgana?

“It was indeed my order to hunt down the witch! But now that she is before you, acknowledge your crime! Make amends!”

Mel is stunned, listening to Jacopo's cries. Eventually, Mel's face turns into a distorted frown.

"Why should I be told that by you?"

“What the hell is ......?”

“Why do you demand an apology from me? You have no right to denounce me!”

“This is not an apology to me! I am asking you to admit your guilt in front of her!"

“You can't say that to me--I can't accept that!”

“You son of a bitch...!”

“No more."

At the sound of Morgana's exhausted voice, Jacopo looks up.

“I'm done."

She mumbled with a soulless look on her face.

“My lord, don't hit him.”

“But, Morgana!"

“I've had it. Yes, he's right. It's all the lord's fault.”

"............"

Jacopo grips Mel's chest tightly and then lets go, pushing him away. Mel grabs his chest, trying to suppress the pain in his heart. With a pale face, he looks at Morgana.

'Yes, yes, I didn't want to do that either. You understand."

"............"

"The source of all this is the lord! so I'm a victim!"

I said, "Enough."

“Huh?"

"......Go away from here ......"

"...... Oh, that ......"

“I'll say it again. Get out of my sight."

"............"

Mel nods weakly and staggers to his feet.

As he is about to leave, Morgana asks him one question.

“Why did you smile when you first saw me?”

Mel only stammers. Morgana says, "Answer me honestly. Was your smile false? If it weren't for that smile, I would have remained wary. That smile made me think that you were a kind man.”

“It wasn’t fake." Mel said.

“My face is horrible," said Morgana.

"Well, yeah, but I was concerned… I thought You must be living in that shack because of your face. So I thought it would hurt you if I was creeped out by your face."

“So......"

“I just… I wanted to be friends.”

Morgana did not respond.

◇◇◇

Mel walks away, and Jacopo approaches Morgana, who is drooping, unable to stand.

"My lord, you can go away now."

“I can't do that.”

“I'm telling you to go away."

“I can't."

“You are the source of all this."

“I know."

"Get away from me"

“I'd like to at least get you to someplace safe. I can't leave you here in your current condition.

"............"

"I swear, I won't do anything else. So please."

Morgana turns over and begins to shake and cry.

“Everything would have been okay if you hadn't tried to take advantage of the witch."

◇◇◇

She says she can't move another step today. She refuses to be touched by the Lord, so she decides to spend the night under a tree by the road, even though the lake is in sight.

At night, they converse there.

Why did the lord carry out such a plan using a witch?

Jacopo tells her everything without hiding the truth.

The city has grown rapidly over the past four years. The population had grown, the number of travelers from other countries had increased, and the city had become more vibrant. However, the rapid growth made it necessary to take measures for the well-being of the people. The people tried to unite their consciousness by using their faith. For this purpose, the witch by the lake, who works miracles, was an obstacle. They decided to use her if she truly did have miraculous blood.

In this scene, Jacopo reveals his state of mind. Before he knew it, it had become natural to sacrifice someone else. He had come to think that things could only be done that way. He used to be in the habit of scrambling to free enslaved people, but now he thinks nothing of sacrificing them.

"My lord, I knew you were an outcast."

“I know."

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you keep me locked up when you had already put so much thought into this plan?"

“I should have continued with my plan if I wanted to keep my position as a lord," he said. “But in that moment, who I was as an individual outweighed who I was on the surface."

She replied, "How foolish. By making such a choice, you've lost everything and sealed your demise."

Jacopo nodded his head in agreement, what she had said was indeed true. Perhaps it would still have been easier for him to live if he had chosen to continue with the plan. Still, he wanted to believe that this choice he made could prove that he still had a heart - that he was still a human being.”

*The two are so fatigued by this point that they are no longer able to muster any intense anger or sadness toward each other.

It's exhausting to hold a grudge against someone so vehemently while they're still a person.

◇◇◇

The next day, we started walking again. Eventually, the lakeside hut began to come into view. She said, "I'm finally back," sounding much more relieved than before. Living in a crowded place like the city was already painful for her.

They enter the cabin. Remnants of life remain. Morgana mutters, "Thank God, no one has ransacked it."

There were bloodstains and traces of what appeared to be something dragged at the entrance. It was evidence of the horror that occurred there.

Morgana takes a moment to check out the cabin, then turns to Jacopo and says, "Why don't you sit down?

Jacopo is sincerely surprised. I mean, did she just extend a gesture of care toward him?

“Let me brew some tea and we will take a short break. I'm sure I have some leaves to help with the fatigue."

“Why all of a sudden do you care about me?"

"I hate you, but it's also true that you brought me here. It's also true that you never laid a hand on me on the journey here."

"............"

"I have to admit that does seem like you have changed your mind."

"Morgana......"

He felt saved. In her mind, he was still Lord Barnier, and it would be difficult to change that. The "young slave" has become a gentle presence in her life.

I despaired of not being understood as my old self anymore, but maybe there is hope for me one day, even in this form.

Even if she thinks you are that horrid Lord, if you continue treating her nicely for a long time, her perception will change.

It will surely be a long atonement.

Still, if I can be with her, even in the form of atonement.

It was hope for him.

He finally manages to smile. Then he calls out to her. “What have you been doing in this cabin for four years?”

What kind of life did she lead?

"Nothing special. ......" she told him.

It was as if four years of blank space were being filled in.

“Morgana..... I understand that you hate me. But, as you have said, I have changed my mind. Please let me make amends. Let me help you live your life."

After a long silence, Morgana nodded, "Yeah, okay.”

Thank goodness, Jacopo thinks sincerely. He suddenly tears up while looking at the sunlight coming in through the window.

All my life, I thought that what I wanted was in high places. I felt I needed a lot of power and wealth to get what I wanted. I thought I could protect what I wanted to protect. But I was wrong. I think I finally understand what happiness is.

She turned around and smiled. I think this was the first time i saw her smile>

Jacopo also smiled as if relieved.

Then she served him the tea.

Two people sitting at a small table facing each other.

Jacopo thanks her, takes it, and brings it to his mouth.

He remembered that pungent smell.

No way. No way. That's a lie.

Astonishment and despair fill his insides.

I look at her again. Morgana is still smiling.

But on closer inspection--

Her eyes were not smiling in the slightest.

Do you mean to say that all this time was just to catch me off guard?

He bit his lip so hard that it bled. He clutched the cup, and a shiver ran down his arm, either from frustration or sadness. He grunted, holding back the urge to start screaming.

“You didn't have to do this, if you wanted me to die, I would pay for it with my life.”

She even erases the smile from her mouth and continues to look at him with cold eyes.

"I thought you thought... that I had changed my mind.”

"No matter how you may change Lord, you will always be an abomination to me. It’s just like I swore to you back then. I will hate you for the rest of my life."

“Is it impossible to seek redemption with you in this lifetime?"

“Your redemption is to die by my hand here and now."

“oh…”

"............"

"So that's your choice.”

“Yes."

I had no fear of dying. As he had told her, he was ready to kill himself if she wanted him to die. But he had a concern.

“How are you going to live with that body?”

"That won't matter much to me. I will live in this hut as a witch for the rest of my life."

All by herself.

"Is there anyone else you can rely on?"

"There is no such person.There is no such thing as an ally for me anymore."

He is silent. He is lost. I wanted to think of a way to be with her without inciting her anger. I wanted to insist that I was on her side. But she had said it. My atonement is to die by her hand.

"...... will this save you?"

Morgana nodded.

There, his decision was made.

He wonders, if he could go back in time, what could he have done to avoid this outcome?

But now, he finally understands what he should have done.

It was not good enough for me.

It was someone else who would save her for she could not save herself.

If even my love destroyed her, then she should have left.

I cannot save her, protect her, or make her laugh.

No one can bring her this salvation but me.

He resolves. If it's a decision about death, it was made long ago.

However, he understands that the "death" she needs here and now is to see "Jean-François Barnier, the lord whom she hates, die.

From the previous exchanges, he realizes that for her, connecting the fact that he was the slave boy who had saved her would destroy her spirit.

As such, the memories of the "slave boy" must be kept beautiful in her mind.

We must protect our memories.

That is the last shred of redemption he can take.

“Do you have any final questions?” Morgana says.

He is troubled for a moment. He wants to ask her to call him by his real name.

But he shakes his head. “Nothing”, he replies.

He took one breath and tightened his grip on the cup.

And somehow, he managed to make himself smile. At least smile at her. Let her know that I have no hatred for her killing me. Let her know that I accept everything.

“Goodbye, Morgana.”

Then, in one gulp, he drank the poison.

◇◇◇

Morgana looked down at her Lord, who no longer breathed.

Her vision is still distorted. The ringing in her ears worsens.

She confirms that he is dead and tries to make a cross with her fingers. But realizing she can't, she moves closer to the window and kneels beside the light to beg.

“O Lord God, my loving Father, I have sinned. I have just committed the unthinkable sin of a child of God. I have killed a man with my own hands. I had to do it even in defiance of your noble teachings. My heart was so far from purity. I am no longer your child. I am just a person. No, I am a sinner. I became a mere sinner. I no longer have the heart to live as a condemned sinner. I am going to commit another sin, and I am going to hell. Father, please punish this poor child.”

She looks up at the light.

“Father, hear the sinner's prayer for the last time. I am about to go to hell with my hated Lord. But the young man who saved me and his friends, please lead them to the Kingdom of Heaven. Father, please guide them."

Then she stops praying and pours the boiled poisonous herb into her own cup.

As she picked it up, she suddenly murmured.

"Now that I'm just a person, I can understand such bothersome feelings…”

“I loved that young man."

◇◇◇

At this moment, she has a gentle dream.

The only reason she was able to dream of it was because Jacopo made sure that her tender memories were not harmed.

It was a dream from her days in the brothel.

She headed to the cemetery as usual. Meeting with the young man who is a slave, and back at the brothel, I see Maria and Ceren. Those happy days, just as they used to be.

*I'd like to make it loop-like if possible production-wise. A happy dream repeats itself over and over, and by choosing an option like "I'm done dreaming," she ends the dream and dies.

◇◇◇

Footsteps approach and open the door to the hut.

Looking around the small room, he finds two dead bodies.

"...... heart-to-heart? No, you're too far apart for that."

It was an oriental man - Yukimasa - who muttered this.

He was on a search following the disappearance of his Lord. Not because he wanted to, of course, but because there was a reward for finding him.

He didn't expect to find them alive, but he didn't expect to find them both dead. He checks both the bodies of the lord and the witch.

“But then again, all I find today are dead bodies."

I remember this morning. That flaxen-haired brother and sister also lived near this hut. He had received an order from the lord, and for the first time in a long while, he had also gone to their hut.

On the bed was Mel's sister, who seemed to have died of an illness. Holding hands with her was her brother, Mel was dead due to a knife to the heart.

“I don't know what kind of anguish could cause one to commit suicide”

Muttering this, he begins to pick up the dead body of his Lord. But Yukimasa pauses in silence. Then he turns his gaze toward the witch.

Yukimasa notices something strange as he approaches the witch's corpse.

The witch's face, exposed to the gentle sun, had lost that ugly deformation.

The face of the girl dying in her sleep was beautiful and smiling.

I don't know what happened here, but at least it made me think that the witch's end was happy.

He carried the dead bodies of the Lord and the witch out of the hut. Then, he found a shovel in the shed and began digging a hole.

He was a man who never took pity on anything, but he had a special feeling for the witch. She probably would not have ended up like this if he had not cut off her arm. I understand that. But even so, he did not feel guilty.

However, as long as he understood that fact, he thought he should at least do this.

He threw the two corpses into a makeshift grave. Only the head of the Lord, however, was cut off. The people of the city want to know what happened to the Lord. He must bring back at least the head.

When the two corpses were lined up like this, both seemed like mere mortals. One is a lord who was the ruler of the city. One is a witch with miraculous blood.

(For me, the witch’s voice was more of a miracle than her miraculous blood.)

At that time, she even felt like something personal and special to him. But now she is just a human being. She is just a dead girl.

No, maybe she became a human being just before her death.

He covered the corpses with dirt and then made a cross out of tree branches.

Only the unmarked grave remained there.

Note from Keika Hanada:

I was hoping to add a redemption route to the main story, but due to various reasons, it was rejected.

Even after I rejected it, I liked the story so much (wow, despair! I love stories that only lead to suffering) that I wanted to give it a chance to see the light of day, and I considered adding it to the Vita version.

We had to choose the modern version (Reincarnation) because the characters are too biased, and the Vita's additions are already so depressing. We had the voice actors working with us, but what was the point if neither Michelle nor Giselle were in the game? The depressing part of the story is also not as redeeming as I would have liked.

However, the modern version is also on the current version, and it is not just a happy-go-lucky story, so I think you will enjoy it. It was an absurdly difficult task for me because of the different way of creating the story than I have done in the past. I like this kind of journey-to-doom story, and I hope I can write it somewhere else, even if it's not about Fata Morgana.

T/N: Oh boy, this was an absolute pain to work on, It's been a while since I've done translation work, so I'm more than a bit rusty lmao. I also just got way too lazy to keep going over and editing this time and time again, so this is all I'll do. I did this translation because I saw that no one else had translated this alternate ending draft (to my knowledge) and thought, why not? More people deserve to read it. Anyways, I hope this wasn't too painful, and if you did cry, then know you are not alone.

#the house in fata morgana #fatamoru #Morgana #jacopo bearzatti #Yukimasa Aida #Mel/Mell #Nellie #ファタモルガーナの館 #Keika Hanada

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bonesandthebees · 7 months

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hey. it’s been a while :) not sure if you remember me but i just wanted to pop by and say that i will forever cherish your writing. your fics gave me a lot of comfort through a very dark time of mine, and reading about the silly fictional brothers made me feel a lot more excited and joyful in a world where i felt very lonely.

whenever i would read your stories, i couldn’t contain my very very dramatically fun reactions that i would say out loud to myself in my room (jumping up and down, screaming, crying, gasping, monologuing to myself, etc). i read so many different AUs and oneshots of yours and i couldn’t get enough! your work is so wonderful and i am AMAZED and how you can create such high-quality writing in a surprisingly short timeframe.

i loved clinic so much that i entered a 30 hour state of hyperfocus where i COULD. NOT. put it down. ruined my sleep schedule but it was so worth it!! and then i read it all again 2 days later. and then i read it AGAIN out loud to my friend over discord so he could enjoy it too :) i recommended world forgetting to a friend and it destroyed her (/pos). i kept recommending all of my friends your fics because they were all so wonderfully entertaining and had a level of quality that was hard to find elsewhere.

i loved clinic, world forgetting, stars, 17 hours, the vampire au, the mermaid au, and starman (?) (the horror one with the giant eye) and i’m sure there’s plenty more that are slipping my mind.

i’m currently in a place where i cannot decide if i’m even able to separate a content creator from his character. even the characters have been soured for me and it’ll be very tough to separate them. i hope i can, because they brought me so much joy in the past, and so did your writing :)

over the past year and a half or so i’ve been so lucky to be blessed with an absolutely wonderful girlfriend that i love very much, and i feel a lot less lonely and a lot more lighter. i’m more active in the real world and i’m doing more things that i love. because of this i’ve distanced from dsmp and unfortunately haven’t had enough time to fully understand qsmp (which is a shame because i love quackity and have been watching him quite literally since 2013 and he is very dear to me). but!! i still rant and rave about your stories to my girlfriend and i even got her to read clinic :)

ANYWAY… very long ramble hahah but all of this is to say that your work was very important in my life and even if i’m going to distance myself from this fandom, i will always love and cherish your writing!!! thank you for your labor of love and i won’t be forgetting about you anytime soon!!

i hope you’re doing well. take care of yourself!! have your favorite cookie!! sending hugs! <3

and ps, the scene where siren has his identity revealed is still one of my fav scenes in writing EVER and i still think about how beautifully tragic it was <3 i think about it a lot. u made me cry for like 45 minutes how dare youuuuuu hahah

I hope you know before I even read this ask I saw the url and immediately went "oh my god lostmellohi it's been so long I've missed them!!!" so, don't worry, I remember you very well and I'm so happy to see you here again!

it makes me so happy to hear how much you've enjoyed my writing over the years. hearing stuff like that only makes me more confident in my decision to not take down any of my stuff regardless of recent events. I never want to take away something of mine that has given you and others that much joy. these stories are mine first and foremost, but as readers they're yours too. they've given you so much enjoyment over the years and that can never be taken away from you.

I totally understand what you mean about being unsure if you'll be able to separate the cc and the character in the future. it's not an easy thing and right now I get the urge to wince every time I read wilbur's name, even if it's in the context of c!wilbur and/or a fic. I believe it'll get easier for all of us with time, so don't worry about it too much right now. it's only been a week since shelby's stream happened. feelings will settle.

congrats on the girlfriend!! I hope she enjoyed clinic lol. I'm so happy you've been doing better though and have been able to do more things that you love. enjoy that kind of stuff whenever you can. qsmp isn't going anywhere and you'll always be able to catch up whenever you have time.

thank you for this it genuinely made me so happy to read. wishing you the best for things in the future and I hope you take care of yourself <33

also, yeah, whenever I think back on the siren identity reveal I'm like damn I did pull that off really well huh. lmao so glad you enjoyed :)

#ask #lostmellohi #wilbur situation

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mercurialmalcontent · 1 year

Text

This post about discovering how a large vocabulary and eloquent speech makes you more likely to be misinterpreted because people think you're being a snob brought up an old, old memory for me--

I was the opposite of well-liked in middle and early high school, but a few kids in particular seemed to take enormous amounts of offense over my existence. I was fat and weird and dressed weird and sometimes kids would directly sneer at how I spoke, but a few of them were over the top about it and it was a mystery to me as to why.

In 10th grade health class, I had the misfortune to be seated next to three of this group. At that point I'd had a growth spurt and the kind of clothes I liked came into style (yay for 90s alt fashion); I'd stumbled into looking almost cool, so most other kids had stopped bothering me. Not this trio; completely unprompted they'd make nasty little comments about my dyed hair or my clothes. They were rich kids who wore the latest in expensive, trendy sportswear, and they had great fun snidely asking me if I got my outfit from the Salvation Army or Walmart. Well after other kids who disliked me stopped caring, they were still pissed off at my existence, and I still couldn't figure out why -- until one particular day.

For some reason, a few of us -- including one of that trio, S -- were getting our tests handed back later than the other kids had gotten theirs, and stayed after class to recieve them. Usually the teacher made sure that kids wouldn't casually see others' results, but this time S managed to get a glimpse of mine…

… and proceeded to throw a screaming tantrum about it.

He ranted and raved that there was no way I could have gotten a result that was better than his, definitely not that high, I HAD to have cheated. I just stared at him in confusion, because why on earth would I want to or have to cheat on a health class test?

But then the light switched on: he thought I was stupid.

His friends thought I was stupid. They thought I was stupid because I looked poor, and as Everyone Knows, poor people are stupid. I wasn't allowed to be smarter than them.

Eventually, I put the rest of it together: by being well-spoken, I was acting above my station. I was supposed to sound uneducated and stupid, and those three hated, hated, hated that I didn't.

(At least this little story has a happy ending: even though the teacher didn't particularly like me, he was not impressed by S's tantrum and told him flatly that I didn't cheat, and didn't need to cheat, and S's further attempts to insult my intelligence deflated when he found out I was in a higher math class than him (confirmed by the teacher; the algebra II teacher was his wife). I can't remember how that group treated me after that, only that after that pissbaby tantrum and my eureka moment, I wasn't intimidated by them anymore.)

#too bad being Good At School doesn't mean jack shit lol #at least it was an important learning moment and clarified why my mom was super sensitive over particular things #and i started being able to tune out rich kid pissbaby nonsense as just noise

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summerofsmiles · 2 years

Note

About your recent post. What happened? Why did that woman get into a fight with Peter and then jimmy’s parents?

Hi!

Basically, Jimmy’s mom who was very supportive of his talent from a very young age (I think one of the yardbirds said Jimmy was very much a mama’s boy) was really really persistent about getting Knebworth tickets and Jimmy kept telling her he’d get them for her, but never followed through. So she called up Swan Song’s office at 2 AM, tipsy, and asked an employee, Unity MacLean for tickets. Unity gave them to her, and an hour later, Jimmy called her up, freaking out and told Unity she was not to speak to his mother or give her tickets to events again. Then Peter Grant called her, screaming at her for upsetting Jimmy and told her not to do anything like that because she’d be fired.

In the morning, when Jimmy was more composed, he apologized to Unity and told her that he didn’t want his mother at the festival because his father already had tickets and the two of them had a messy relationship after their divorce. Jimmy’s father (this is where things get dicey because different sources say different things) had split with his mother during Jimmy’s session career or when he was in the Yardbirds because he was having an affair and had a secret family on the side (I think Jimmy has a half sister named Karen?) and James Sr. and Patricia had a lot of bad blood so Jimmy didn’t want them to be together at the festival because they would start a screaming match and to quote Jimmy “ranting and raving” at each other. Since Jimmy’s father had already gotten tickets, a compromise was reached where his father got tickets for one weekend and his mother got tickets for the other.

Poor Unity really got caught in the middle of all of this. But hearing about the situation does make me very curious about the Page family dynamic. Because Jimmy trying to reverse parent trap his mom and dad at the literal Knebworth festival raises a lot of questions

#led zeppelin #jimmy page #robert plant #asks

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raaorqtpbpdy · 1 year

Text

The One (2)

For the Phic Phight prompts: Soulmate Au where after your soulmate dies, you can only see in black and white. As in you see normal colors until they die and then only in black and white for the rest of your life, so you only ever know if you had a soulmate once it's too late. Except Character A's (up to you who you want it to be) soulmate is Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form, character A's vision is in black and white, but returns to normal color when Danny is Fenton. Character A is going crazy trying to find their soulmate who keeps dying and getting resurrected. (from @ghostboidanny) and Wes is the first one to find out Danny's secret. No One Knows AU. (from @murphy-kitt)

Chapter 2: Bathed in Green Light

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AO3 Link

[Warning for death mentions and graphic descriptions of pain (the portal accident)]

This was by far the worst moment of Danny's life.

He'd been stupid to hang around in his parents lab. Stupid to go into the portal. Stupid to touch anything. He'd never thought a decision made out of boredom, made because he was lonely and had nothing to do with both of his friends busy for the day, would have such disastrous consequences. He hadn't expected that thoughtlessly putting his hand against the wall in the dark hole which was supposed to be a ghost portal, would result in the worst moment of Danny's entire life... and quite possibly the last.

He could feel the electricity coursing through his veins, pumping millions of volts under his skin. His bones were being fried into brittle black powder. His blood evaporated in his arteries. His eyes practically popped right out of his skull, his organs melted. Then a shock of something ice-cold soaking him through, shredding him to pieces on jagged fractals.

It felt as if he was being torn apart molecule by molecule.

Toxic, radioactive green flooded in.

For what felt like forever, it dominated all of his senses. No scent, no sound, no taste. He could feel nothing and see nothing, except for that horrible, headache-inducing green.

He blacked out.

When he came to, he was on the floor of his parents' lab. Miraculously, he felt fine, until he tried to get to his feet, and realized he didn't have any. He floated up, so freaked out he wasn't even breathing and yet, he also wasn't running out of breath.

A glance in the nearest reflective surface showed him a very different sight than he was familiar with. His once-black hair was snow white, and his eyes that same, sickening green that had been his whole world for an instant and an eternity at once. His white Fenton jumpsuit had turned black, his skin was a pallid gray.

He'd changed, somehow.

The portal had changed him.

It had twisted, and altered, and rearranged his atoms until he wasn't human anymore.

All Danny's life, he'd heard his parents ranting and raving about ghosts, but he hadn't believed a word of it since he was six years old. Never in a million years could he have imagined that he would become one.

Alone in his parents' basement lab at fourteen years old, Danny Fenton had died.

A few minutes later, while he was still freaking out about being a ghost, the door at the top of the stairs slammed open, and in an instant of unparalleled fear, something incredible happened. A white glow passed over Danny, a bubbling, fizzing line of light against his body like a layer of skin was dissolving right off of him, and he dropped to the ground, looking just as human as he'd ever been.

"Dann-o, are you down here?" his father's booming voice asked. "Jazz said she heard screaming?"

"Yeah I... I was just looking at the portal," he said. "It shocked me when it turned on, but I'm okay now." His father's heavy footsteps stopped halfway down the stairs.

"It turned on?" he repeated, then he thundered gleefully down the rest of the way to see, like a kid on Christmas morning. "How? What happened?"

"Oh, I don't know," Danny lied, rubbing his left arm awkwardly. His left had been the hand against the wall, and he could still feel the phantom stings of electricity buzzing under his skin. "Maybe it just needed some time to warm up?"

"Maddie!" Jack bellowed upstairs. His voice no doubt carrying easily into the house, and probably all the way down the street as well. "The Fenton Portal is working!"

It was mere seconds before the clattering of his mother's boots could be heard clamoring down the basement stairs as well. "What do you mean it's working?" she demanded, though she was clearly thrilled to hear it. "How can it be working?"

"Danny here says it just needed some time to warm up!" Jack said, clapping his son on the back. The contact set Danny's raw nerves on fire, but he was quick to mask his pained grimace with a forced grin. "Says it gave him a shock when it turned on though. You're not hurt, are you, Danny boy?"

"Uh... no," Danny said, though it was the biggest lie he'd ever told. As soon as he'd turned human again, the pain came back, muted and faraway, but still there, and agonizing when anything when anything touched him. "No, I'm fine. Just some bad static, I think."

"Are you sure?" his mother asked with a sympathetic frown, but he nodded, fake smile still plastered on his face. "Well, if it's not serious...."

"It's not," Danny assured her promptly. "I'm just excited that the portal works now, I'm happy for you. But uh, I'm gonna, you know, go upstairs and leave you two to your work, cool? Cool." He started out of the basement, feeling with every step as though he was walking barefoot on shattered glass and gritting his teeth to keep from wincing as he ascended the stairs.

"I don't understand," he heard Maddie say behind him. "The prototype activated right away... I mean, it didn't function as intended, but it activated."

"Well, this one's bigger!" Jack responded, as though that explained everything.

Danny didn't hear anything more as he kept going until he reached his room on the second floor, where he lied down on his bed and tried not to move at all until the pain slowly but surely started to ebb away. When it had subsided enough for him to think, Danny considered what he should do.

Honestly, he didn't have the slightest idea. He didn't even really know what had happened to him. One second he was a ghost, and the next, human again. If he could switch back and forth, he had no idea how to do it, and if he was really dead and just somehow disguised himself as a human, he wasn't about to tell him parents that; they'd have a breakdown. And Jazz... Jazz was always going on about how it was her job as the older sibling to protect him. How would she feel if she found out about this? Not good. That much was certain.

And what about Sam and Tucker? He should tell them, at the very least, shouldn't he? Although... on second thought, maybe not. Tucker was always saying how dangerous their lab was and would never let Danny hear the end of it if he found out about the accident, and Sam, goth though she may be, got squeamish about death when it was more than just a word in her poetry. She didn't even eat meat. If she found out Danny had sort of died, she'd have a conniption.

For now, it was best to keep it a secret, at least until he figured out how to break it to them gently.

He was so not looking forward to school tomorrow. Maybe he could fake sick or ask his parents for the day off as a reward, since he was the one who got the portal working and all.

In the end, his parents were so busy running tests on their newly functioning portal that Danny didn't even need to make an excuse. He just stayed in bed, in the pajamas he'd eventually recovered enough to change into, and they never noticed that he cut school at all. If the school called them, they'd probably even ignore it in lieu of sample collecting and data checking.

At around 3:20 in the afternoon, Danny felt a chill and his breath misted in front of him as if the temperature had suddenly dropped a good thirty degrees. Something green and glowing flew up through the floor into Danny's room. Danny knew that color all too well, though it was weird to see it on an octopus, far, far away from any place an octopus would logically be. It flew at Danny, and he threw his hands up defensively, squeezing his eyes shut.

When he opened them, he saw white gloves in front of his face, and a translucent green barrier between him and the ghost.

There was no time to think as he wrestled with the octopus in his bedroom, so he let instinct takeover. Green light shot out of his fingertips, making the octopus recoil. He grabbed the creature and dragged them both through the floor and through the floor again. He stunned the thing by zapping it with electricity and tossed it through the ghost portal and then... Danny decided instincts were a terrifying thing.

His parents backs had been turned to the whole time while they examined some kind of samples. They hadn't seen a thing. Danny flew back up through the ceiling, back to his room, closed his eyes, and willed himself to become human again. It wasn't until he felt his heart start to beat rapidly in his chest that he realized it had worked and he sighed with relief.

Crawling back into bed, he wrapped himself up in his blankets, and tried to magically erase everything that had happened the previous day the same way he'd transformed mere moments ago. Unfortunately, his will alone wasn't strong enough to do that, and it didn't work the second time.

#phic phight #phic phight 2023 #fic #The One #dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #angst #no one knows au #Jack fenton #maddie fenton #things i wrote

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