#and to achieve this i must log off

[neonstatic]

i need to fix my sleep schedule i can't keep sleeping round 4-5am i got work!!!! shit's killing meeee

[poeticpomegranate]

How to get your life together: Student edition ᯓᡣ𐭩

Mindset

As cliche and redundant as it sounds, it's important to be positive, as well as realistic, about your academic life. Understand what you want to achieve, what you're capable of, how to effectively push yourself and how to rest. This is the recipe for success.

2. Goal setting

Bouncing off of the mindset step, focus on what it is your want to achieve in your academic life. Be very specific with these goals. Understand and set your yearly goals, quarterly goals, as well as monthly and weekly goals. This will help you plan your days and have a realistic sense of time in terms of how much work needs to be done in certain subjects, how much rest can be had, and how often breaks should be taken.

3. Discipline & self understanding

Understanding who you are as a person and how you learn, process, and retain information can help you effectively practice self discipline.

Questions to ask yourself:

+ What type of learning style do I have?

+ What time of day do I work best in?

+ What environments do I work best in?

+ Are digital or physical notes more comfortable and effective to me?

+ Have I established a pleasant relationship with my instructors and at least one peer in all of my classes?

+ What subjects am I strongest in?

+ Do I learn best in a group environment, one on one, or reviewing notes independently?

+ Am I easily distracted when studying? If so, by what, and can these things be easily prevented?

+ What are specific triggers (if any) that help me get "in the zone?"

+ When are my typical rest days, or times of the week/month/year that I like to rest (no work at all, or very light reviewing)?

4. Daily schedule

Now, create a schedule around your answers to the previous questions and make certain tasks "non-negotiable." (Whether this be "I must brush my teeth and shower after waking up," or "I must study from 6-10 every night," is your decision.) Be realistic with setting these non-negotiable tasks, but also believe in yourself, and try and push yourself a little out of your comfort zone. You know what you're capable of, and if you want to achieve something you feel you're just not ready for, practice,- and build up your stamina!

Things to always include in your daily schedule:

+ Wake up time

+ Getting ready/ commute time

+ At least two meal times

+ At least an hour of leisure time

+ At least seven hours of sleep a night

+ Do your homework the day it is assigned

+ Give yourself a daily reward

Things to always include in your montly schedule:

+ At least one date with friends or family

+At least one date with your significant other

+ At least one phone call with long distance loved ones

+ At least one study date a week with peers or friends

+ At least a certain time during a certain day of the week to completely unplug and rest

+ Read the syllabus and log every important deadline and exam

Other useful tips:

+ Keep your workspace tidy, inspiring and organized

+ Changing the scenery when you work can be a nice change of pace

+ Breaking big tasks down into smaller chunks can feel less overwhelming

+ Plan meals ahead or small snacks so you won't feel hungry/forget to eat

+ Use materials that are effective and fun for you

Studying time frames:

Study time - Break time

20 min - 5 min

30 min - 10 min

45 min - 15 min

1 hr - 20 min

1hr 30 min - 25 min

2 hr - 30-45 min

When should you study?

+ Never the night before

+ Exam - 1 week before

+ Test - 3 days before

+ Study first thing when you awake

+ Review complicated concepts before bed

[academicfever]

14/100 days of productivity!

My therapist told me to stop thinking about happiness .. instead I must focus on achievements cuz that gives me longer lasting joy...

Log: 18th Dec24 #cleanup office desk and dust off #Review Revision_15 #note_taking _SOH estimation #digital Declutter

Update: Wow my pms is hitting hard this time… I constantly feel like killing myself lol

[ardbar]

I have been thinking about Evbo getting mutations from living basically in the void for so long.

There are a total of 5 possible mutations that the Noobs know of, that they keep to themselves. They know each has a purpose and those who manage to live long enough to grain even two of them are considered to be old, those with Three are considered to be nearing the end of their lives. Only 3 people have gotten all 5 of them since Evil Champion took over. Old Man, Noob Neighbor, and Evbo himself.

The Void sees The Noobs as it's people. Such silly little things, so ill adapted to its harshness. But it can help them, it will hold and change them and let them thrive. First it deals with the lack of light, the way it turns darker than pitch when the sun sets and even when it's up, the dirt above blocks out most of it. It changes their eyes so that they reflect light similar to a cat. That will help it's darling people to thrive.

After seeing someone consume enough raw meat, The Void will come to the conclusion that they to are a Carnivore, a Predator. An ill adapted one though, so it makes their teeth longer and sharper, perfect for ripping through their prey. It changes their stomaches so they can more easily digest the raw meat and bones they consume. What silly little things, eating Bones when they could not before, but it is okay because Void is here to help them.

The third mutation, which few achieve comes as The Void watches them struggle to stay on blocks, struggle to cling to them after jumps. The Void reaches out again and brushes against their code, changing it just enough. It's a slow and painful process that not all survive. It takes at least two weeks and as it happens, parkour is Hell. Nearly Half who get that mutation simply starve from being unable to get food. For when it is done, their feet have changed to the paws of a Sphinx Cat, with large claws to grip wood and dirt blocks so they can lean out over the edge with no fear. Some who last long enough, like Evbo, have enough flexibility and dexterity in their paws to grip onto things like Crystals and Glass Panes, wrapping around them and holding firm. The Void does this so that they will be better at Not Falling into its waiting arms.

The fourth mutation is one that rarely happens. The Void sees those who have Paws struggling with their jumps still and decides that it is not the sliding off that is the problem, so surely it must be power and balance they are lacking! After all, they can't catch up to those from the upper levels that come down so surely it must be that they are not fast enough to catch up! So The Void whispers to those it changes, "I can not make you are fast or nimble as your prey, but I can make you Stronger. All you must do is catch them by surprise." The Fourth Mutation changes their legs, making them thicker and stronger. It is now impossible to knock them from a perch unless they are dull body tackled into the Void or they slip on a jump. Their landings are also better thanks to this getting rid of any wobbling or sliding that could happen. It is why Evbo can land 360s but others can't, because they can not plant their feet to stop the momentum and simply tumble to the side.

The fifth, and possibly final, mutation is the most extreme yet. The Void saw those chosen few still unable to hunt for themselves and watched closely when they got their food. It watched as the Pros, the Prey, sprinted away. It watches as one tries to seemingly jump over a log at a Prey and misses the swipe of its arm, the Pro slipping from their grip. Grip! That is the answer, surely! The Prey must simply be wiggling away from Its Chosen Few before they can have their feast! So The Void reaches out one more time, changing their hands and arms, giving them strength enough to crush the bones of their Prey by wrapping their arms around them, strength enough to snap a wrist if they hold to tightly. And to top it all off, something between a cat's paw pads and the suction cups of a gecko upon their hands so they can grip not just Prey but Blocks as well, to pull themselves back up if they should slip.

The Void is proud of its work as it whispers lullabies in the pitch dark of night to all its lovely players. For those belong to The Void and it has makes them as so. Even as it's favorite, the strongest Predator it has ever created, climbs away from It towards the top, It Knows that It's Favored will return one day and while so high above, it will have plenty of Prey to catch and consume.

I love this so much, not only is the writing just beautiful but it's just really interesting. Personally I've always been a fan of concepts or strange entities being personified so I really think the way you wrote the void is really fun. I honestly don't even know what to say but I'll try my best.

First I think the idea that each and every mutation is the void trying to help it's citizens better adapt the the harsh environment is fascinating. One thing this does make me wonder is just how aware of this are the other layers, I remember in another one of your asks you described it as uncanny valley, meaning that people instinctually know something is wrong they can't quite tell what it is. While this does make sense for some of the more hidden augmentations I wonder how the things like the sharpened teeth and claws would be perceived. I wonder if Evbo is ever asked about them.

Another thing I found really fascinating about this is how you mentioned very few people make it long enough to get all of the mutations, only mentioning 3. The person I want to touch on is the Old Man. We know that after being beaten by the armored champion he returns to the noob level, assuming it wasn't until the armored champion took over that people actually started to spend a long period of time trapped on this level I wonder if he didn't get these mutations until he was old and had to flee to this level, or if he still had them but a lesser extent in his youth, if he was born on the noob level.

What I really find the most interesting about this is how the void views the noobs as it's people and the pros as the noobs prey. I wonder specifically how it makes this distinction. Also you mentioned how this belief effected the physical aspect of the noobs, however, I wonder if this also effects their mentality. They were forged to hunt and break those that once outran them do you think that when it battle these instincts to kill to consumer ever comeout?

The last point I feel like bring up is what exactly is the void. What I mean by this is what is it in comparison to the Parkour god. This is the parkour gods land his kingdom so what is this foreign entity existing at the bottom of it. I wonder if since there seems to be no bedrock in their world that the voids presence isn't dampened its free to do as it wants. I wonder if the layers exist to keep this being trapped to keep its corruption from spreading. I wonder if the armored champion wasn't wrong when he decided to keep noobs for ascending? I wonder what will happen now that one of the voids children bears the weight of godhood?

[connor6sex]

EPHEMERAL SMP (My writeup)

Hi, my IGN is Lunethh. I joined the server 20 minutes late, and wandered around until i found someone (Lulu175) who said there was a trial chamber near spawn. I decided to accompany them to the trial. On the way we ran into a Catbboymmilo, who had iron and gave us shields. Catboy also gave me a bone, and with it i was able to tame a single nearby Wolf. This wolf was to be named Archduke Franz Ferdinand. And if anything bad happened to him, i swore i would find a way to start a world war.

Before our journey to the trial chamber commenced, Lulu declared we must get a bed, because she would surely die and wanted to set her spawn. This was an excellent call from Lulu, who got the most deaths on the server with 42.

We wandered into a forest where we met DarubyPrincxx, who had gone mining and had iron for shears. They lent us shears so we could make a bed and head off to the Chamber.

And to the Trial Chamber we went. There was a little trouble getting to it due to the immense lag we had mining straight down. It took ten minutes to mine maybe 30 blocks down. But eventually we were in the Trial Chamber, with stone tools and no food.

And none of us were really experienced Trialers, I'd not actually played the latest version of the game at all, and Lulu only ever poked around Trial chambers in creative, but we managed. Managed to get the most deaths on the server.

Eventually we ran into someone else in the trials. Mothyboyo i think. And they had cleared a room and gotten a omen potion. (Or milo found the first omen bottle, not entirely clear, but regardless) The trials got harder. With the omen, but we did, eventually. With a lot of deaths, manage to get some ominous keys and start opening a vault. And on our second ominous vault, Milo dropped a heavy core.

This was the first of many maces we would acquire.

We all got to kill each other with the mace right away, getting the achievements in chat and we declared ourselves Mace Trio. I wanted to leave the trials right away to go start killing people at spawn with the mace, but Lulu and Milo insisted we get more maces. I said that us getting more maces was statistically unlikely.

However Milo said "LETS GO GAMBLING" and that's hard to argue with. So we cleared the next rooms, and eventually got another Mace. At that point i said, we should really go back to spawn now, but the response once more was LETS GO GAMBLING. And that's really hard to argue with.

We ended up leaving the trail chamber with not two, not three, but FIVE maces.

At one point i nearly had a diplomatic incident in chat, when i asked very politely, if i could abolish the monarchy that had been growing in strength while Mace Trio and I were below the ground.

The leader of the Monarchy, the Monarch themself, RGBmothman, promptly declared war on me Specifically. However, when i pointed out that i merely asked to abolish the monarchy, and didn't threaten it at all beyond asking. A ceasefire was declared, and i asked if we were about to kiss. They did not Reply to me about if we were in fact about to kiss. But I digress.

Eventually we did surface, maces in hand and ready to kill. But before i went on a killing spree, we gathered candles in the Trial Chamber that we wanted to bring to the Vigil. It wasn't enough candles to offset the combined deaths we all had in the trials. But it seemed like a nice thing to do.

We spent some time at spawn, and noticed The Emerald Throne, which had been there since i logged on. The throne was made of dirt. Not emerald, so with Trial Chamber loot, Lulu fixed this.

On the way to the Vigil, we witnessed a wafflehouse massacre, and I ended up getting murdered on the steps of the Wafflehouse. I believe it was either Engibot or Kafrisuru, who killed a lot of people. The only thing i recovered from my death was my Mace. Thankfully. I really don't know how that worked out, it had fallen into the river, and i guess they didn't spend too long looting my corpse. But i did have good stuff on me. like 1/2 diamond and 2 god apples.

Anyhow. With one more death, we made our way to the vigil to give them some candles. On our way there, we were stopped by the Monarchy's soldiers. They were looking for someone who stole something or something. idk, i was a little wary of them because they had previously declared war on me.

We didn't end up having any trouble with them, but that would not be our last encounter with the Monarchy (i don't like monarchs out of principle)

Heading back to spawn, we searched for the rumoured Sex House. When i had asked Willow what it was, i was told that it was a house at spawn with all the player beds. And someone just put a sign there. And i wanted to see it for myself.

With a bed of my own, and a hefty shaft in my hand, i found nothing at spawn. But i did see the monarch nearish. I figured a ruler would know of the comings and goings of the world, and asked if they knew of the Sex House.

They did not know where it was, but as we fell into discussion, i said "its not about finding a sex house, but building a sex home" and the monarch and I discovered the true meaning of Sexmas. As well as found out that we were in fact, about to kiss.

But we had to split ways with our insight shared, I had to start construction of a new Sex House. A house for all of us, a house for Sex.

Just off the coast of spawn, right where the stone beach turns to grass sat a small roof held up by fenceposts with a single wall. It wasn't much, but it was the start of the SexHouse that i know and (made) love.

Now that i had two of my primal needs satisfied, (Shelter & Companionship), i needed to sate my thirst for blood. I had a mace, and i had windcharges, i wanted murder almost as much as i wanted sexhouse.

Most of my time left on the server was spent trying to kill people. I think i killed a lot of people. I killed God even. I asked them if they wanted to be killed by my Mace. And they said yes, and switched to survival.

The rest of the time went peacefully and bloodily, at one point there was a dirt mansion massacre, where the dirt baron brought me and lulu to the highest point of the manor, and stood directly below it, with a small crowd of other people who wanted to be killed by the mace. It was a smashing time.

And best of all, nothing bad ever happened to my dog. Nothing bad has ever, or will ever happen to my dog.

[teethstoobigmouthwontclose]

The World Turns

It starts with a woman - no, it starts with the end of the world. Every achievement, every monument of humanity utterly destroyed. Ruination. An apocalypse complete. And cruel: It didn't kill everyone.

So the world turns, and nature reclaims, and the people of the old world must find their way in the new.

It is raining. The forest is vast, and dark. The woman runs, because as freezing and as starving and as wretched as she is, the momentum of movement is all she has. The wind is loud. The trees are dense. The downpour masks the woodsmoke. So when she stumbles into the clearing, with the cave, with the roaring fire - it overwhelms her, blinds her, a transition so monumental. Like a birthing.

There is a man in the cave with the fire. Gaunt, ragged, and stinking. He turns his gaze from the flames to watch her. Otherwise, he does not move. "Please" She begs. "Can I come in?" "Can you come in?" He asks, rendering her speechless. She could cry. He has all the power in this situation, she thinks. The cold will kill her if she leaves. He has no weapons. The cave is bare, save for a store of wood drying by the fire's heat. So she takes her chances. It's warm - almost hot. The fire is stoked far too much for the needs of one man. He watches her, still unmoving. Eventually her body demands it's dues. She is exhausted, and sleeps.

Morning brings the end of the storm. She wakes, sweating, in the same position she fell asleep in. The man is where he was, though has clearly been active - wood has been depleted from the stores. Noticing her awake, he watches her. She understands. Has seen this madness before - people of the old world who cannot cope with its loss. She has seen people in old ruins moving like sleepwalkers, pointlessly keeping routines long since senseless, uselessly moving or touching broken remnants of the past. The woman busies herself with the necessities of survival. Nearby there is a river, the water fresh and clear. There is food, for those with the eye to discern it. There is wood, stone, vine, and mud. Days pass by the handful as such. The man stokes the fire. He watches her work, and eat, and rest. She shares her food, hoping it payment enough for the fire shared. It's a week before he actually eats it. She makes him an axe, stone forced into a handle, to help him gather wood. He accepts, and carries it with him, but she still finds him tearing down branches with his bare hands. She shows him how to use the axe. One day, as she bathes in the river, she catches him watching. She shrieks, and covers herself, and when he does not react she curses him. "Go away!" She screams, and he does. It happens again. Again, she demands he leaves. Again he does. And again, the next time, he returns. So this is it. She thinks. The price for the fire's warmth. She tries to ignore him. He does nothing but watch. The next time she goes to the river, he joins her. He bathes, and does not watch her. He stops stinking.

The old world was humbled before humanity. Now it grows bold, and rightfully so. Now is the law of predator and prey. She makes two spears. She gives one to the man, and teaches him how to use it: making him practice striking and throwing against a rotting log. "This is how you defend yourself." She says. One night the beasts come. They come with hungry eyes and eager fangs. She fights, desperately, back against the fire. And the man... dutifully runs to the log, striking it with his spear. Just as he practiced. Even has the beasts tear him down. She fights them off. It is bloody, and the price is too much. The man is dead. She buries him the old way: nice and deep, so the beasts won't dig him up. The woman keeps the fire burning in his memory. That's all the luxuriant grief she can afford: the world does not stop turning. Always work to be done - She makes traps to catch small beasts of the land and river. She makes a small house for herself, out of wood and vine and leaf. She stops visiting the grave of the man. Loneliness has its thorns in her, twisting her thinking. Sometimes she thinks she can feel the ground shifting.

One night she is in the cave, stoking the fire. She doesn't keep it as high and as crackling as the man did - which is why she can hear the coughing. And the footsteps. Now she has a knife as well as her spear. But she drops them. For the man is back. The wounds from the beasts are gone, but so are his fingernails. His hands are caked in blood and dirt. His lips are blue. He reeks of earth. He puts more wood on the fire. Talking to the man is difficult. He repeats questions, or gives overly simplistic answers. "What is my name?" "What is my name?" "Where are you from?" "Here." "Who are you?" "Me." "Can I stay here?" "Can you stay here?" She doesn't sense any malice. The man seems to be communicating in earnest.

Another survivor comes to the clearing - a joyous event. He wears the hides of beasts, and has a walking stick, and has travelled far. He declares the clearing "An ideal place to settle!", and offers his services. They ask the man if that would be acceptable - it's only polite, since he was here first. They take his "Would that be acceptable?" to be permission. The new person knows how to skin beasts and preserve meat. It's much easier to feed three mouths when spoilage is avoided. The woman makes the tanner a house, too. The man lives in the cave, where he can keep the fire going.

Over time, more people arrive. Some days they can see the fire-smoke. On calm, overcast nights they can see the light reflected on the clouds. Soon they are felling trees to make more room for homes - the woman is getting good at building them. Alas, the beasts didn't fear the fire, and they don't fear the greater gathering of people. Hunger drives them, adding more weight to the scales of choice until any risk is worth it. They are repelled - the man knows to strike more than the log, now - but again, the price is bloody. And too much. They gather to mourn those lost. The man stokes the fire. He watches the bodies. He tries to stop the burial. The woman has to put herself between him and the others. "Why are you trying to stop us burying them?" She demands. "They'll choke." He says. "They're dead." "Yes." "Bury them." She says to the others, and drags the man away by the arm. She takes the man to the cave, where the roaring fire will keep the conversation private. "They won't come back" she tells him, with finality. He looks confused. "Why not?" "Why not?" She laughs, bitter at the absurdity. "They can't. No-one can." She wields the last like an accusation. The man looks... bereft. Distraught. "But the fire is burning." She wants to pity him, but instead: "Are you even human?" "Yes." "Have you always been?" "No." It should feel like a victory. A truth won. But nothing has changed: The truth won't bury the dead. It won't do tomorrow's work, or the next. So she leaves the man by the fire.

The man hunts beasts, now. He walks into the woods with a spear and knife. He always returns bloody, and sometimes the blood is his. On days he doesn't return, the woman stokes the fire. The village grows, nurtured by the resources provided by the forest and the river. The beasts don't come anymore, but they find their bodies sometimes. Time passes, and children are born. So strange, these people of the new world. So bitter, to look upon their faces and know that the old will be forgotten. The people keep trying to give the man silly, mocking names, like 'The Firekeeper'. They avert their eyes and bow their heads when he passes. She tells them off - nature is cruel enough as it is, she won't tolerate any more manufactured by humanity. She won't abide mocking those broken by the end of the world. They scoff, and roll their eyes, but they listen... at least, when she's in earshot. They watch him, though, when he's stocking the fire, or back from a hunt, or when he tries to watch them. Time passes, and their stares start to turn on her. Nothing's ever said, and when she talks to people, they reply fine enough... but there's an odd twang to their words. A truth skirted around. Some kind of distance forming. The children grow up. Many people leave, in search of new places to settle. Sometimes people come back, and there's talk of trade. Deer trails through the forest are becoming paths. The woman catches her reflection in the river one day. It hasn't changed. It hasn't changed from the day she first stumbled into the clearing, and met the fire. She goes to the cave, to see the man. "What's happening to me?" She asks - then, before he can say 'you're standing by the fire' or somesuch, she quickly adds "Why am I different? Why aren't I changing?" "It always happens to the first." He says, feeding wood to the fire. "You were here first, though." "The first after me. The first to arrive. Someone has to help the others." "What others?" He takes her by the arm - gently - to the mouth of the cave. And shows her the village.

I don't know how to end this story. I don't think the end matters. The village grows, the fire is kept, the world turns. It always does.

[20forty9]

I Didn't Mean To Haunt You

Chapter IV - Candles On Fire

Summary : The spirit spars with Maheas and doesn't realize the mistake it has made will lead to terrible consequences. You go on your first mission with other people, but it doesn't go all according to plan. You have to learn that it's okay to be vulnerable with people you are starting to trust.

Word Count : 9.4k

Contains : Violence. Very vague mention of top scars. I think that's it, please let me know if I'm missing anything!

Pairings : Gojo Satoru/Reader, Geto Suguru/Reader, Everyone/Reader (Reverse Harem)

Cross-posted on Ao3

A/N : So I know I said I wouldn't update in two weeks, but I lied. I lie for fun, apparently. I pumped this chapter out like my LIFE depended on it (confirmed Gege was holding the gun to my head... especially with those latest leaks brah I can't believe it). LOTS of Satoru and Gojo in this chapter! And just a short flashback to Suliman, probably the shortest one I've written so far... Some small fluff too, for once! I must really be feeling sick... I'm also curious, are there any characters you'd like to see more of? OR, actually, who are YOUR favourite characters from JJK that you'd like to see involved in the story? Remember, it's Multi x Reader, so it can be anyone! And is there anything you're not vibing with in this story so far? Feedback means the world to me and keeps me logging back in every day to check if I have any new comments. Trust me, your support goes a long way and keeps me motivated, so thank you to my regular commenters!

Curiosity is the wick in the candle of learning. ~William Arthur Ward

Suliman is utterly obsessed with the spirit’s powers, to put it simply – though even that word couldn’t put enough emphasis on it. Every day, she would create training dummies of different sizes made out of her strange purple tendrils for it to use as target practice, showing off its destructive fire capabilities. 

Though it was glad to be able to use an element without any drawbacks, the way Suliman observed, refusing to tear her eyes away for even one second, disturbed it deeply. Knowing her, she already had a few plans in mind on how to use it for her benefit. 

After absolutely eviscerating another training dummy, Suliman approaches the spirit, stepping over the leftover ashes, slowly clapping her hands. 

“Good,” she simply says. “I think I’ve had enough of you training on something like this. I have a better idea.” 

With a click of her fingers, her entourage of men walk over, followed by the kid the spirit had an encounter with a little over a month ago – Maheas is his name , if it recalls correctly. The dirty-blonde boy holds a sword in his hand, donned in clothes appropriate for exercise. He looks up at the spirit anxiously, a small frown on his face, probably remembering their first meeting. 

“Maheas, from this day forward, this spirit will train you,” Suliman explains to the boy, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “You are my most promising acolyte, I want to shape you to be the best, and this will surely help you achieve your goal.” 

His gaze drifts to the woman, apprehensive. But when she gives him a soft smile, it seems to weaken his resolve. 

“I won’t let you down, Madame. I’ll work as hard as possible, and become even stronger than that thing!” Maheas points an accusatory finger in the spirit's direction. “I can probably beat it right now!” 

“Oh, is that so?” She tilts her head to the side, the smile never wavering. “Well, why don’t you show me? Make me proud.” 

“I would be honoured.” 

Suliman takes a step back, followed by the men, giving both the spirit and the young boy enough space to spar. 

Unimpressed, the spirit stands firmly in place, not moving a single muscle. It doesn’t want to fight a kid, but it looks like it has no other choice. It remembers their first encounter, when Maheas punched it in the gut and managed to summon enough cursed energy to do some damage in its weakened state. As long as it doesn’t let him hit it directly, it could end this fight in mere seconds. 

“Prepare yourself, spirit!” Maheas says, pointing the tip of his sword in its direction. “I won’t go easy on you.” 

It has to fight the urge to roll its eyes, raising its fists in front of its face and bringing its left leg forward a bit, bending at the knees. With a raise of a thick red eyebrow, it provokes the young boy enough to charge forward, swinging his sword back. The spirit side-steps his attack quickly just as he brings the weapon down right where it was standing, getting it stuck in the ground. 

The sword must be slightly too heavy for Maheas, as he struggles to pull it out, giving the spirit just enough time to move a hand underneath the young boy’s arm, bringing him closer to it before it knees him in the stomach, just strong enough to knock him back and leave him breathless on the ground, but not enough to actually injure him.

Just like that, their fight is over – if you could even call that. 

After taking a deep breath, Maheas sits back up, staring daggers at the spirit. If looks could kill… 

“I want a rematch!” He declares, but when he tries to stand back up, his legs wobble and he immediately sits back down. After getting knocked down like that, the spirit knows he’ll need a few minutes before he can use his legs properly again. It motions with a hand for him to keep sitting, imitating deep breaths. 

“I don’t listen to you,” Maheas says, though he does it anyway, crossing his legs and harrumphing. 

“You did well,” Suliman says as a butler approaches the young boy with a glass of water. “You’ll only continue to improve as you train. I don’t want either of you to hold back on each other, do you understand me?” 

That seems to be a dangerous request, the spirit thinks to itself. It looks over at the boy’s discarded sword laying on the ground, deciding to pick it up and weigh it in its hands. It is definitely too heavy for a boy of his height and weight, and also too restrictive. He’d do well with a polearm. 

There’s a light smack to its side, bringing its attention to the red-faced boy who is – surprisingly enough – already standing on both legs, yelling at it. 

“Put that down, it’s not yours!” He continues weakly punching it with his small fists. 

It decides to look over the sword once more, completely ignoring Maheas, shaking its head in disappointment. 

“What seems to be the problem?” It reads upon Suliman’s lips when it looks over at her. 

She waves the butler over, who brings a piece of parchment paper and quill dipped in ink at the ready. The spirit looks at the objects, confused. 

“You barely talk, so write what’s on your mind instead,” she says. 

It hesitates as it grasps the quill, the tip of it pressing against the paper, still unsure. It doesn’t know how to write . 

“My, you really are pathetic, aren’t you?” Suliman’s lips are still quirked up in a small smile as she gently berates it. “Fine, just speak instead.” 

It swallows nervously, suddenly becoming increasingly more uncomfortable. It doesn’t know what vowels to emphasize or vocalize. It shakes its head no instead, pointing at the sword and making an ‘x’ with its fingers before gesturing at Maheas. 

“Are you saying the sword isn’t a good weapon for him?” She asks, crossing her arms. Thankful she understood it, it nods. The young boy standing next to them looks mildly offended, stomping a foot on the ground. 

“You calling me weak?!” 

The spirit shakes its head back and forth again. 

“I think it’s saying that another weapon would suit you better,” Suliman patiently explains it to him, and it nods at that. “If that’s the case, why don’t you show us what will work better?” 

Each of the men that were standing on guard brandish their weapons, each of them being different. They stand tall, backs straight and situated in a line, and hold their weapon in the palm of their hands. 

“Go on,” she encourages the spirit. 

Its eyes scrutinize over each of them before they land on a man holding a polearm. It walks over to him, pointing at it then looking back at Suliman. 

“Well, go on then,” she urges Maheas with a gentle push to his back. He reluctantly makes his way over to stand next to the spirit, taking the polearm from the man standing in front of the both of them. 

The spirit notes that it’s definitely too long for someone of his height, but with a few adjustments, he’ll be able to move more swiftly and have more versatile attacks. It will significantly extend his range and striking power, too. Compared to the sword, this is a much better option for the young boy. 

“How does it feel?” Suliman asks Maheas, observing him. 

“It’s okay, I think,” he replies, weighing the weapon in both hands. He still seems unsure, but with time he’ll become more used to it. 

“Wonderful. We’ll make you one that suits you better so you can properly train with the spirit by tomorrow,” she says, motioning at the man to take his polearm back. 

The young boy smiles widely at the prospect of a new weapon, thanking her over and over again. Suliman pats him on the head in a motherly way, giving him a smile of her own, but the spirit notices that there is no genuine warmth behind it. She adjusts her dress slightly before leading Maheas away, leaving a request to the men to bring the spirit back to its room. She waves goodbye to it as she walks with the young boy through the gardens and back to the greenhouse. 

The spirit can’t help but think it has made a grave mistake. 

 

The following day after the big thunderstorm, you wake up with a sudden start, feeling your alarm clock vibrate underneath the pillow. You click it off, setting it on the nightstand, and immediately sit up, wiping the sleep away from your eyes. It feels like your blood is already pumping – today is a big day, after all. It’s your first official mission, no less a mission with other people. Today is a day where you can prove his worth and show your loyalty to the higher-ups. 

You already have some clothes set aside for today – your usual sleeveless compression shirt and dark brown cargo pants and converse. After taking a shower and changing, you open the blinds to let in the morning sun shine into the room through the leaves of the trees outside. After the terrible weather from yesterday, it seems that today is a beautifully bright day. 

You smile to yourself, grabbing your notebook and pen. Closing and locking the door behind you, you exit the dormitories, heading to Yaga’s classroom so your team can be debriefed. As usual, you’re the first one there, so you take a seat at the desk you claimed during your first time there, putting your legs up on the table. 

“How are you feeling today?” Yaga asks as he looks up from his laptop, a pen in his right hand, papers in his left. It looks like he was doing paperwork for a mission the others must’ve been sent on recently. 

You reply with a thumbs up and a bright smile, which makes the older man relax, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

While you both wait for the others to show up, you doodle silly drawings in the notebook to fight the boredom. You’re not an artist by any means, but it still helps to pass time. You drew the fish that were in the sign language book from yesterday, but this time, the koi fish is swimming happily with the two other betta fish in a small pond. 

You get pulled out of your intense focus when a manicured finger taps down on the top of the notebook, bringing your gaze up to meet Shoko’s. 

“Cute drawing,” she says, leaning over to see it better. 

You sign thanks a little bit flustered, flipping the notebook to a blank page. 

- How are you doing? :) 

“I’m good, thanks,” she replies, hopping onto the desk next to your own. She turns to look at her teacher. “Am I on time, sensei?” 

“Take a look at the clock yourself,” he seems to grumble. 

Five minutes past their agreed meeting time. “Ehh, close enough.” 

It takes another ten minutes for Gojo and Geto to show up together, fashionably late as always. Instead of wearing the hoodie he used to wear with the hood up to protect his eyes, Gojo has now switched into the full normal school uniform, along with the glasses you gifted him. 

“Yo!” The white-haired man casually greets Yaga, a wide smile spread across his face. 

“Fifteen minutes,” the man replies. 

“Huh?”

“ Fifteen minutes late!” You can nearly feel the ground shake from how loudly Yaga yells. “Are you two morons ??!” 

“Sorry sensei, it’ll never happen again, we promise,” Geto says, bowing at the waist in respect. When he notices Gojo doesn’t bow either, he shoves a hand at the back of his head to force him to follow. 

You share a deadpan look with Shoko. You seem to be having the exact same thought — it’ll happen next week, guaranteed. 

“...Well, now that you’re all here, we’ll debrief and you’ll leave as soon as I’m done explaining,” Yaga says, closing his laptop and setting his papers in a neat pile. “This curse has been reported near an abandoned concert venue, just on the outskirts of Hachioji. It’s a bit of a drive, but bear with me. It shouldn’t be too difficult–” he levels a deadly look in Gojo’s direction, “–it’s a simple Grade 2. Just remember to put a veil up, and don’t get injured. Shoko is staying behind today.” 

“No complaints from me,” she says before rolling her head side to side, trying to loosen up a kink in her neck. 

“Behave, you two,” he tells both Gojo and Geto before turning to you. “And you… just– I don’t know, do what you usually do, but don’t be a pain in the ass.” 

You salute him with a goofy smile spread across your face, making the teacher glare at you halfheartedly. Unbeknownst to you, the two young men in the room snicker behind you at your behaviour. 

With the meeting adjourned, the three of you walk through the Jujutsu school’s campus to make your way to the transport car, where the driver waits for you patiently. You all clamber into the car, Gojo sitting in the passenger seat because of his ridiculously long limbs. He seems that he doesn’t know what to do with them either, awkwardly shifting the seat back to make enough room to be comfortable. You sit directly behind him with Geto to your right. 

The car immediately speeds off, the view of trees and houses quickly blurring together. You wistfully look out of your window. The sun shines brightly through the leaves of the trees, making you squint a little and turn your head to the right, facing Geto instead, who is already looking at you. 

“Are you looking forward to exorcising your first curse?” He asks, resting his cheek on his fist. 

Thankful you didn’t forget your notebook today, you quickly write on the paper. 

- Yes, I hope we’ll make a good team. I’m aware you two are capable, but we should learn to work as a team properly. And I’m NOT(!!!!) just saying that because I’m scared of what Yaga might say if we end up causing a mess, I genuinely want to help with making Tokyo more safe. 

You doodle a small smiley face at the end of your paragraph, hopefully to drive your point home. You’re more than aware that the two of them are adept at this, but they can’t be the only two to do so. They should be able to rely on others, especially someone that doesn’t need as much rest, food or water like most humans do. 

“It’ll be a learning experience, for sure,” the raven-haired man humbly replies, before his eyes seem to sharpen, sending a teasing look in your direction as he reads the rest. “You’re sure you’re not afraid of Yaga?”

You shake your head back and forth vigorously, your arms forming an ‘x’ in protest. Absolutely, but I won’t tell these two that. 

Gojo abruptly turns around in his seat, leaning over the center armrest (and apparently pissing off the driver while doing it) and shoves his phone in Geto’s face. 

“Look, look!” He says, waving the phone around wildly in front of his friend’s eyes. 

“Dude, calm down,” Geto scoffs, yanking it from Gojo’s hands to take a look. “Seriously, Digimon?” 

“X-Evolution is finally out on DVD, we gotta watch it!!!” 

“Didn’t you see that movie, like, six times since its release?” He raises an eyebrow, shooting him a judgemental look. 

“Actually, it’s more like seven. Or eight,” he pauses, pushing his sunglasses up along the bridge of his nose. “Wait, actually, no, it was ten.” 

“You look like a total nerd,” Geto looks down at the screen again. “And somehow you want to watch it again ?” 

“Absolutely.”

The white-haired man says it with the most serious expression you have ever seen that you can’t help but snort lightly, covering your mouth with your hand when you realize it grabbed both of the men’s attention. For some reason, it makes you feel incredibly uncomfortable. So you settle back in your seat, leaning your head back and only turning your eyes back onto their lips to read the conversation once you’re absolutely sure Gojo’s piercing gaze is fixated back onto his friend. 

“Let’s pick up the DVD after the mission,” he says, grabbing his phone back from Geto’s hands, still continuing to lean over the armrest. 

“You mean you’ll pick it up,” he points at him. “I am not paying for that. You are literally rich.” 

“But it’s more special and meaningful and romantic when we pay for something together!” He whines, wrapping his long arms around the headrest and hugging it in faux-comfort. This man truly loves bringing out the theatrics , you think to yourself. 

“Allow me to disagree with you on that,” Geto says, a deadpan look on his face, before turning his head to the window. 

He seems to be saying something else, you can tell by the way his jaw moves, but you can’t see his lips from this angle. Whatever it is, it makes Gojo laugh and point at him, but by this point you don't bother following the conversation anymore, too confused. What the hell is Digimon, anyways? What’s a DVD? Sighing to yourself, you look outside, watching the scenery pass by. 

A little over half an hour passes by when the car makes it out to the outskirts, driving along a slim road. There are farmhouses and fields, buildings placed further apart from each other as it becomes more remote. Tokyo city has nothing compared to the lush greenery on Hachioji’s outskirts, and you can tell that it’s much more quiet here compared to the city. There’s no familiar rumbling of trucks that you have become accustomed to when walking along the pavement, instead it’s peaceful. You wonder if the birds chirp more loudly here. 

The driver drives up a steep hill, and the distant sight of a mountain covered in thick, healthy green trees greets your group. The car goes up, up, up and around the streets that bend along the hill before you come across a split in the road. The driver turns to the left onto an unpaved road, gravel bouncing against metal, and suddenly the sun seems to disappear underneath the canopy of leaves. 

The deeper you go onto this unpaved road, the less you come across houses, until there are none left. Instead, old, empty, rusty steel drums spray painted with arrows and different symbols replace them. There’s nothing around except for ‘ No Trespassing! ' signs. 

The vehicle comes to a sudden halt, and you feel the door underneath your palm shake slightly, meaning that the car is unlocked. You open the door with your notebook in hand, happy to stretch your legs out after spending nearly an hour travelling. You feel the dry twigs snap underneath your feet, dead leaves brushing against your ankles. The smell of fresh air fills your lungs, and you take a deep breath in. This is as close to heaven as it gets . You reach back into the car to grab your polearm that was laying on the floor in its holder, putting the strap around your chest so the weapon can rest against your back, leaving your hands free. 

There’s a quick tap on your shoulder, and you turn around to be face-to-face with Gojo, who looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. Bright blue eyes stare at you, and you realize that it’s something that you’ll have to get used to, unless you want that smug bastard to tease you every time you get nervous from looking at him in the eyes. 

“Let’s go,” he says, thumbing behind him. “We have to walk a bit, and the driver is gonna stay with the car. Hope you like to hike.” 

You have to leg over the horizontal chain attached to two poles to block any cars from passing, and Gojo nearly trips over it, his hand immediately reaching out to your arm to steady himself before he can fall face first and accidentally eat a pile of dirt. 

“ Nice one, ” you sign with an eyebrow raised, the white-haired man standing back at full height, rubbing his hands against his uniform as if trying to wipe your cursed energy off of his skin. 

“I don’t know what you just said to me, but I don’t like your attitude, kiddo,” Gojo replies, taking a ‘ parent-disappointed-in-you ’ pose, arms crossed, hips jutting out. He’s about to retort with something else before he closes his mouth instead, jogging ahead to catch up to Geto, who was waving the two of you over impatiently. 

“Let’s just get this over with instead of messing around, alright?” The raven-haired man sighs, an exasperated look on his face. 

“You just wanna show off,” Gojo says, tucking his hands into his pockets before sauntering off. 

None of you speak a word amongst each other until you make it to a big, rundown building. It’s not as big as a stadium, but the concerts held here back in the day must’ve been fun with such an open area. 

“I wonder why they had a venue out in the middle of nowhere,” Geto says to you as he walks alongside you. “Seems a bit strange.” 

- More space? Beats me. 

You turn the page to face him after you finish writing, giving him a shrug of your shoulders. 

You’re just about to ask where Gojo went until a flash of bright white hair makes itself known in the corner of your eye. You see him waving at you both, motioning you to come closer to the building. 

“Slowpokes, over here!” 

Geto rolls his eyes, but follows him inside, and you follow suit. 

You’re greeted with a dark lobby, burst pipes leaking water and forming deep puddles on the ground. You can immediately feel the water seeping into your canvas shoes and socks, making your face scrunch up in distaste. At another glance, there are multiple stands labeled ‘Food���, ‘Alcohol’, ‘Merchandise’, and more. This must’ve definitely been a popular place. The paint is peeling off of the walls, and there’s graffiti sprayed against any space that isn’t occupied by mold or dirty, dripping water. You walk over to a concession stand, inspecting it and turning your back to the front doors where your group first walked in from. 

“Do you think Nirvana played here?” Gojo asks Geto, pointing at the large closed doors, presumably leading to the concert hall itself. 

“Are you fucking stupid?” 

Gojo pouts, kicking a fallen piece of pipe on the ground. “Jeez, you only had to say no.” 

Just as he’s about to open the big doors, he pauses, his whole body freezing up. Geto, upon noticing this, feels a wave of guilt wash over him, assuming his words actually insulted his friend. 

“Hey, you know I was just kidding, right?” 

“Get down!” Gojo whips around suddenly, calling out your name. Luckily, you had been looking at the two of them just as he spoke up, and the instant you read his lips, you duck, not even thinking twice. You feel a violent crack of air whip the top of your head – if you hadn’t moved in time, your head would’ve been sliced clean off. 

Twisting your body around, you look up, coming face-to-face with a group of low-levelled curses, one of them having long, razor-sharp cleavers for arms. They’re all mangled and twisted, ribs protruding out of their sides and wearing paper masks with strange symbols trying to imitate facial features. Their skin is almost human-like, but the fact that every inch of them is somehow warped together quickly puts that thought to rest. You reach for your back, about to pull out your polearm from its sheath, but you’re beaten to the punch as Geto runs up behind you, launching himself in the air and kicking Razor-arms in the face, sending it stumbling backwards. 

The other curses quickly retaliate, one of them trying to gain the upper hand while Geto is still in the air and grabbing his leg, slamming him down onto the hard floor. They’re about to bring down a finishing blow, but get interrupted by you finally taking out your polearm and slashing at their masks, making the group stumble back. Gojo immediately rushes over, splaying out his arms before bringing them together again and making rushed, complicated hand movements. The reaction is instantaneous – a large blue orb starts forming and the entire group of curses get sucked into it like a magnet, crashing together before turning into nothing. 

You and Geto get back on their feet. You’re shocked at what you just saw, mismatched eyes wide in surprise. Gojo just completely evaporated those curses as if it was nothing to him, not even a single drop of sweat wasted on them. This must be why he’s on such a constant high horse .

The white-haired man looks at you in disdain. “You’re a cursed spirit and you didn’t even feel your own kind?” He rolls his eyes. Well, there’s that classic Gojo that you first met – so much for his unexpected kindness from yesterday. 

You look around for your notebook, hoping to explain your lack of reaction better. Unfortunately, you find it where you nearly got decapitated, in a muddied puddle of water, completely ruined. Wonderful, you think to yourself. You can’t even be angry at the fact you were so careless just to toss it away at the first breath of danger, just annoyed. 

“Maybe you didn’t want to kill them,” he continues, making your eyebrows raise. It was hard not to be genuinely offended by that comment. “After all, they’re you.” 

“ They aren’t me at all, ” you try to be patient as you sign, but you can’t help the feeling of anxiety that pangs in your chest, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned. This is not how you wanted your first mission with others to go. 

“Satoru, that’s enough. If you want to nag them about this, do it later,” Geto interrupts the two of you, motioning vaguely to the big doors you had yet to go through. “Let’s get this done first.” 

Gojo decides to heed to his friend’s demands, mercifully giving you some space. You trail behind the white-haired man, looking down at your water-logged shoes, feeling a heavy weight on your shoulders. That is, until Gojo grabs you by the bicep to tug you forward to walk beside him. Surprised at the sudden action, you look up at him. 

“You’re too quiet, I won’t be able to hear if you get snatched up by a curse,” he explains through gritted teeth, looking up at the graffitied ceiling through his sunglasses. Refusing to actually acknowledge you, as if you’re more of an annoyance than teammate. 

You look forward, not bothering to dignify him with a reply. A tight feeling in your chest makes itself known, unpleasant and uncomfortable. 

“Seems weird to me that we haven’t run into the Grade 2 curse yet. Yaga didn’t tell us there would be any others besides it,” Geto turns around to face the two of you when you approach the door, an unsure look in his eyes. 

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly, walking up to the doors and tugging on the handles to pry them open. As soon as they swing ajar, a thick cloud of dust permeates through the air, making all of you cough violently as you breathe it in. Carefully, Geto takes the first step in, taking a flashlight out of the deep pocket of his pants, turning it on to illuminate the concert hall. 

The ceilings are high, and the venue has a main floor, balcony, and gallery. The seats are old and wrecked, a layer of dust, dirt and mold covering them all. Some are knocked over by miscreants, others are completely missing, and some are left untouched. The stage itself is decorated with even more graffiti, not a single inch left blank. 

Geto and Gojo are conversing about something, standing closer to each other than before, and it frustrates you to no end that you can’t tell what they’re discussing because of how dark the room is. If only the windows weren’t blacked out, then the room would have just enough light for you to lip-read. 

You’re about to wander off on your own to find the curse until there’s a powerful rumble underneath your feet, nearly making you lose your footing. Suddenly, a gigantic monstrosity crashes through the stage, sending wood and debris flying everywhere. The creature has multiple limbs, the most prominent features being its two front arms covering its ears, an unhinged jaw with far too many rows of teeth, with snot, sweat and tears running down every single orifice on its body. Its complexion is stark white, and there are strange neon tattoos along its other limbs. 

This must be the curse Yaga was talking about. 

This is definitely more powerful than a Grade 2 curse. 

Even with your lack of awareness of cursed energy, you can certainly tell that this is far beyond whatever was reported. 

There’s another powerful shake in the ground as the beast opens up its mouth, sending spittle flying everywhere. You ready your polearm, prepared to exorcise the curse, but you notice the lack of attack from your teammates. Gojo should be jumping at the opportunity to show off and waste another creature. Concerned, you take a quick glance behind your shoulder and notice that both Gojo and Geto are hunched over, covering their ears and clenching their jaws so hard that you can notice a prominent vein in the raven-haired man’s forehead popping out. 

You run over to them, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Geto’s back. Eyes that were once screwed shut crack open to look up at your worried gaze, and he weakly points to the huge curse on the stage. 

It suddenly dawns on you – the rumbling wasn’t from the pure size of this curse breaking through the wall, it was from its mouth. It’s screeching so loud to the point where everything is shaking. 

The curse stops screaming for a moment, turning its deformed body to look around, its singular huge eye locking straight onto you . A dense string of drool pools from the corner of its mouth onto the ground, creating a disgusting, thick puddle of mucus below it. 

Taking the short distraction to his advantage, Gojo starts to make those complicated hand signs again, but unfortunately the curse notices too quickly – it opens its mouth to continue shrieking at your group, making glass shatter all around you. It completely incapacitates Gojo and Geto, whose hands immediately go to cover their ears again. Upon closer inspection, you notice drops of blood running down both of their jaws; the curse is so loud it makes their ears bleed. 

And you can’t hear a thing. 

The resolution comes to you much more easily than you expected. You grip your polearm tightly in your left hand, running forward to give yourself enough momentum to throw yourself upwards, twisting your body in the air to bring the blade of your weapon forward. Just as it’s about to pierce the skin of the curse, it opens its mouth and makes such a powerful blast of noise that it sends you flying back in the air, roughly landing on your back against some seats on the top floor, in the gallery. 

You cough violently as the breath is knocked out of your lungs, but quickly gets back up onto your feet. The curse is already aiming one of its gangly legs in your direction, and you level it with a glare, unmoving until it brings its hand down. The second the large limb gets close enough for impact, you push your foot against the ground, sending you sideways and putting just the right amount of distance to avoid getting hit. 

Its arm gets jammed between the seats and concrete of the third floor, and you take the opportunity to hop onto the forelimb, running along it and bringing your polearm forward to take yet another swing at the curse. Just as expected, the curse tries to screech at you again, so you jump up, going above its head and somersaulting in the air to bring your weapon down. Just as you feel the blade make impact with solid skin, a mouth appears right where the blade is and swallows it whole. You don't have enough time to register the shock, but still have half a mind to use the rest of your momentum to fall back down onto the ground floor, where your teammates are still hunched over, clutching at their heads in agony. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain that must be rattling throughout their brain. 

You huff, wiping the sweat from your brow. With no more weapons in hand, you decide to take this curse seriously and be more cautious. This isn’t just a Grade 2 anymore, this is something definitely dangerous. But…

You don't want to use your powers in front of others. Knowing that you are capable of this destruction will only make others more fearful of you, and it’s the last thing you want. You don't want to be isolated again, or working and living with people who don’t trust you. You just want to help. 

You’re considering his options, glancing back at Gojo and Geto for a moment, a wave of concern washing over you. If you don't get rid of this curse soon, they’ll probably lose their hearing completely, if they haven’t already. Fuck, if only things weren’t so damn complicated–

You see the shock written across Gojo’s face before you feel the impact against your side. His blacked-out sunglasses dropped down to the tip of his bloody nose, the sides of his face covered in blood, but he still had enough consciousness left in him to register the curse creeping behind you, eyes widening as it pulls back a large hand and whips you across the room. 

You break through multiple layers of wood, feeling splinter after splinter embedding in your skin and ripping it open as they get caught onto other debris. Finally, you slam against the furthest wall, concrete cracking against your back from the sudden shock. Blood spurts from your mouth - definitely a few broken ribs - and you feel dizzy, but you can’t pass out just yet. You force yourself onto shaky legs, looking at the creature that seems to be preparing to release another bloodcurdling scream. 

Fuck it.

There’s a sharp spike of pain that courses throughout your body as you raise your right arm, aiming at the curse. With a snap of your fingers, an enormous explosion of cyan fire mixed with purple flames ignites the entire stage, crawling across the curse’s skin and making it wail out in pain – or at least, that’s what you think it's doing. You can feel the heat against your skin, sparks igniting and scorching the exposed part of your arms, sweat beading your forehead. Tears and mucus fly everywhere as the curse’s limbs reach out for release, anything, from the burning that is spreading all along its body. Multiple hands crunch concrete and wood underneath it, bringing half of the ceiling down on top of it, but the flames burn brightly until the violent rumbling underneath your feet becomes a simple vibration, then turns to nothing . 

You bring your right hand up again, palm facing the violent flames, then bring it back down to your side, making the fire dissipate completely, leaving behind a mountain of ashes and thick clouds of smoke in its wake. 

And just like that, it’s over. 

You breathe in and out deeply, ribs painfully screaming out in protest at the action, and you clutch at your side to try and alleviate the pain. That curse had quite the punch to it , you think to yourself. Looking up, you walk through the smoke to return to your teammates and check on them. The uncomfortable warmth from using your fire lingers in the building, making you feel like you’re in a sauna. Your nose scrunches as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, only to feel the moisture gather again. 

You know they’ll be horrified and disgusted. You feel a pang of sadness and guilt – they’ll never want to face you again. Gojo was right, you are a cursed spirit. You’ll only bring destruction and death to the people around you. You’re a monster.  

You do not expect the sight in front of you. Geto smiles at you in relief when he sees you appear through the thick clouds of smoke, though his eyebrows are knitted in concern when he sees you clutch your side. Gojo, however, beams at you, bright white teeth on display. His hands are covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem to mind it in the least. 

“Holy shit, why didn’t you tell us you could do that?!” Gojo exclaims, walking up to you and wiping the blood on the pants of his uniform. “You’re not as weak as I thought you were.” 

You stare at them, confused. Shouldn’t they be worried that you’d use this power against them? Isn’t this exactly what Gojo and the council of elders were afraid of? Eyes unblinking and unfocused, you give him a half-hearted shrug, feeling like you can barely move a muscle all of a sudden. 

This feels wrong. Bile rises at the back of your throat as uneasiness creeps along your spine – shouldn’t you be punished for unleashing your power like that? Gojo and Geto are obviously putting up a front. As soon as you all return to the school grounds, you’ll be thrown into confinement again, you’re sure of it. There’s no way this can end well for you. 

“Damn, my head is killing me,” Gojo says, bringing you out of your inner turmoil. “Let’s head back, I need to fix my poor eardrums.” 

Geto wordlessly follows, your eyes glued to the ground below you as your eyes go back to feeling clouded, mind feeling foggy as your body moves on autopilot. The tips of your fingers are tingling, hands and arms feeling numb as you feel like you’ve detached from yourself, a third-person view to your own life. You feel nothing until you collide into Geto’s muscular back, feeling your ribs throbbing in pain. 

Wondering why the raven-haired man came to a sudden stop, you focus back on the moment at hand, looking up at him. Geto looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he clasps his chin in between his fingers. He eventually closes his eyes in frustration, lips downturned. 

“Did any of us put up a veil?” He asks. 

Gojo turns his head around slowly, the smile on his face frozen. You feel cold sweat gathering at the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck.” 

It’s pitch black by the time the car returns to campus, all staff and students already tucked in for the night besides Gojo, Geto, and yourself. It’s nearing one in the morning, as Gojo forced the driver escorting you to stop by a DVD store to pick up the latest Digimon movie, then dinner, then snacks too. Thankfully, he paid for everything. 

The best part about the situation is that Yaga is an early sleeper, so none of you have to face his wrath about messing up the veil until tomorrow morning when you have to debrief. You’re all too tired to deal with being slapped over the head by a ruler. It’s the small mercies that make all the difference. 

The streetlamps and the moon are the only things illuminating the pathway to the dormitory building, all three of you lugging your own plastic bags filled with goodies back to Gojo’s room. You place it down next to the door as the white-haired man goes to unlock it, and turn to leave to go back to your own room until you feel a large, warm hand grasp your right wrist. Your head snaps back, turning to face Gojo. 

“Where’re you going?” He asks, frowning and tilting his head to the side. “We’re all watching a movie together, c’mon. You don’t have a choice.” 

Your mouth drops open slightly, confused. “ Okay, ” you sign with your free hand, letting it awkwardly hang in the air. As subtle as possible, you yank your wrist free from Gojo’s hold, feeling the warmth spread along your arm through the bandages. 

Gojo’s room is tidy, for the most part. There’s a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, right next to the laundry basket, and his bed is left unmade, blankets strewn everywhere. However, the desk is set up in a precise way, the chair is tucked in, and all the pens are lined up straight. The posters in his room are mostly all of Digimon and some other movies that you don't know. The TV is parallel to his bed that is pressed up against the wall, exactly like yours is, and there are a few bean bag chairs on the ground in front of it. 

Geto immediately launches himself on top of one, letting his body sink into it and letting himself relax. Gojo sets up the large array of snacks on his desk after putting his pens away, putting his favourite ones on the right. You continue awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, observing him as he puts chips in a large bowl. His head twists to the door suddenly and he opens it up, revealing Shoko. 

Her brown hair is a bit of a mess, and she looks exhausted, but she manages to muster a small grin when her eyes land on you, waving at you. 

Wordlessly, Gojo pulls out the chair underneath his desk and sits in it, Shoko immediately walking behind him and puts her hands over his ears. A small glow of cursed energy emits from her hands soon after, and you can see the way the white-haired man visibly deflates in the chair. A few minutes pass, and she strolls over to Geto, leaning over to do the same thing to him. 

She goes to you last, hands hovering in the air. 

“I’m still not sure if I can even heal you, considering last time,” she says, looking at you with a hesitant look in her eye. “But your ribs need to be looked at, at the very least.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t heal them?” Geto asks, lifting his head up from the bean bag. 

“I tried to heal their nose, but I couldn’t,” she replies rather simply. “Sorry, this might hurt a bit.” 

Her hands press against your ribcage, and you inhale sharply, trying to stay still as Shoko’s cursed energy resonates against you. 

“See, it’s not letting me,” she says, looking at you then at the other two men. “I can feel their injuries – just bruised ribs – but I can’t properly heal them. I can feel that they’re hurt, but it’s like every single part of them is, and my technique can’t pinpoint the source of where they’re actually injured at the moment.” 

Geto looks over at you thoughtfully, his gaze raking up the entire length of your body. His eyes land on the bandages carefully wrapped around your arms, still securely in place even after the encounter with the curse. His eyes narrow – maybe Shoko’s cursed energy is focusing on whatever is hidden beneath the bandages. You notice his stare and nervously shuffle in place, which makes Shoko grab you by the biceps to keep you still. 

“Don’t move,” she tells you, frowning. “Do you have any more clean bandages?” 

You nod your head, holding a finger up. Be right back, you mouth, then walk out of Gojo’s dorm to go to your own room. You unlock the door, being greeted with a pitch-black room. Quickly flicking the lights on, you rummage through one of the drawers of your dresser for the bandage wraps. You feel the familiar scratchy fabric brush against your fingers, and grab a roll out. As you go to close the door and make your way back to the group, you take a final look at your room. 

It feels more empty and desolate than usual. You’ve never associated this feeling with your own dorm room before, and it’s not something you like. There’s a tug at your chest, something at the back of your mind telling you to return to the others, and you decide to listen.

Shoko smiles when she sees the bandages in your hand, taking the roll from you and motioning you to take your compression shirt off, tugging at the edge of it. 

You press your lips together awkwardly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe you should’ve just stayed in your room, after all . However, the look she gives you says enough – you don't have much of a choice. You exhale deeply out through your nose, acquiescing. The shirt is covered in the curse’s mucus and sticks to your skin, nearly making you gag as you take it off, feeling the slime stick to you. 

“Jesus, what the hell were you guys fighting?” Shoko’s gaze is fixed on the two other men who look equally grossed out, thinking at the bodily fluids from earlier. When she turns her head to look back at you, her eyes immediately land on your exposed chest, eyebrows raising slightly. “Ohh… I kinda guessed.” 

The scars on your chest aren’t something you’re ashamed of, but it’s still something that you consider private. You understand that you’re taking his shirt off purely for medical reasons, but it still feels like you’re exposing a side of yourself that only one other person knows. And now, other people know, people whose opinions you care about. 

“I appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to do that,” Shoko says your name, looking directly into your mismatched eyes. “It means a lot.” 

That makes you smile for the first time in hours. You nod, looking down bashfully as the eye contact is a bit too much for you right now. Your eyes eventually flicker to both Gojo then Geto, the latter giving you an encouraging thumbs up. You notice that both of them have changed into different clothes, out of their dirtied uniforms and into t-shirts and sweatpants. You look over to the white-haired man, who has shoveled a bunch of sweets into his mouth. He’s saying something, but it’s too hard for you to lipread when half his face is covered by food. Gojo seems to realize this, swallowing everything down in one large gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“We don’t care about that stuff, dude,” he tells you. “You don’t have to worry about us judging you.” 

You sign your earnest thanks, warmth spreading across your cheeks. 

“Yeah, seriously, I’m more worried about the bruises,” Shoko says, pointing to the darkened skin.

She then raises your arms, unfurling the bandage roll and starting to wrap it around your torso. The pressure is uncomfortable and makes your body ache, and you can’t help your eyes from scrunching closed – it’s been a while since you’ve gotten injured like this, and it doesn’t seem to get any easier. 

As soon as she’s done bandaging you up, you reach for your discarded shirt before Gojo’s hand stops you, grasping your wrist. He seems to have a knack for touching you. 

“Nuh-uh, no way are you putting that back on when it’s covered in that shit,” he yanks the shirt out of your clutches. “And get out of those pants too, they reek. You aren’t allowed in my room if you keep wearing those.” 

“You know, if you want to see them naked that bad, you could’ve been more subtle,” Shoko teases Gojo, a wide grin spread across her face, provoking him to try and trip her with his long legs. 

“Fuck off,” he says, though the tips of his ears are turning red. “That isn’t what I meant, go smoke outside or something…” He proceeds to shove a white t-shirt and some grey sweatpants into your arms before addressing you. “Just go change in the bathroom.” 

You nod, a smile playing upon your lips. Though Gojo’s attitude towards you has been fluctuating like crazy today, you’re grateful that the man still has enough decency left in him to give you clean clothes. 

You close the door to the bathroom, turning the light on and being greeted by the sight of yourself in the mirror. Your face immediately drops. The reminder of Suliman’s permanent mark on you stares back at you, the magenta eye seemingly haunting every corner of your mind. You look down to your left arm, thankfully still covered. There’s no trace of the curse mark peeking through. 

You quickly tug the oversized t-shirt on, the fabric soft and delicate against your skin – it must’ve cost Gojo a pretty penny for it. Next, you take your ruined cargo pants off, tugging the sweats up. The ankles of the pants are way too long and cover your feet, but you’ll have to work with it. After tightening the drawstring of the pants to make sure they don’t slip down your hips, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. 

You only see the version of yourself that you were with Suliman. A mess of a monster, clinging to any humanity blessed upon it. A glutton for a life worth living, but the hunger for curiosity was its ultimate punishment. At any moment, Geto and Gojo will most likely realize what a terrible creature you are and become disgusted with you. 

You can’t look at yourself any longer, opening the door of the bathroom and joining the others again. You force yourself to ignore the thoughts gnawing at the back of your mind, determined to enjoy the most of your night.

Gojo has the TV turned on now, delicately placing a metal disc in the strange contraption underneath the television. He has a notebook and pen in his other hand, and the second his eyes land on you, he stands up straight, walking over and grabbing your hand to place the notebook and pen in your hold. 

“There you go,” it’s hard to tell what he says because his mouth barely moves, as if he’s trying to keep the conversation just between yourselves, but you make out just enough to understand. Gojo then steps back, flopping onto the other free beanbag chair, a black brick with buttons in his hand – you have never seen anything like that before. 

- What’s that thing that Gojo has? And what’s the round shiny thing? And the thing under the TV? 

You nearly shove the notebook in Geto’s face, making his shoulders shake lightly with laughter. 

“You’ve got lots of questions about things, don’t you?” He tilts his head to the side, a small smile on his face. “That’s a remote, he’s putting the DVD in the player so we can watch a movie.” 

“...You do know what a movie is, right?” Shoko asks as she walks over with a bowl of snacks in hand. She puts a big pillow on the ground, plopping herself right in between the bean bags. 

You nod your head, deciding to sit down on the edge of Gojo’s bed, legs dangling right behind Shoko. 

“Which one’s your favourite?” Gojo turns around to watch the conversation unfold, finger hovering over the ‘play’ button. 

You shrug. Yaga has talked about his favourite movies in the past, but you never ended up watching any together. 

- I don’t know, I’ve never watched any before. 

As soon as you turn the notebook around for the others to read, Gojo’s face drops, and he looks horrified. 

“You are the most boring person I know,” he says, instantly getting a slap on the back of his head from Geto. “Ouch!”

“Do you have any self awareness?” Geto glares at him. 

“But their life sounds so dull! No boba or movies? What the hell was sensei doing, was he keeping you locked up in a dungeon or what?!” He raises his arms to gesture at you. 

Well, it wasn’t a dungeon. Though you decide to keep your hands by your side instead of saying anything. It would probably make Gojo more aggravating. You just aggressively point at the remote instead, then at the TV. 

“Gladly,” he replies, pressing play. “Prepare to be amazed .” 

Shoko turns to look up at you from the ground, a conspiratorial look on her face. “I think this is a good time to tell you that Satoru is the biggest Digimon nerd on the entire planet. Don’t be fooled, he could ramble about the entire lore for hours.” 

You quietly laugh as Gojo gives her an offended look. “I am proud to know every single detail about Digimon, thank you very much.” 

“That is not the flex you think it is,” Geto says with a deadpan look on his face, before he takes a handful of chips into his mouth. Noticing your eyes on him, he offers the bag to you. “They’re barbecue flavoured.” 

You happily munch away on the snacks as the movie rolls, the colours completely enrapturing you. The closed captioning was the cherry on top, too; you’re able to understand everything so easily, a wide grin on your face as you follow along with the story. If only you could have that in person whenever someone talked to you, then you may not feel so isolated from everyone else. Absent-mindedly, you grab one of the pillows on the bed and hug it in your arms, hunching over as your head rests on top of it and crossing your legs. 

All of your friends seem engaged, cheering and laughing. The characters look incredibly strange, but their designs are enticing to you, and Gojo seems to love this movie, so you keep your entire attention on the screen. 

However, the weight of everything that has happened today seems to finally be catching up to your body, and you feel your eyelids droop, a muted yawn slipping past your lips. Gojo’s bed is so comfortable, the mattress soft and malleable underneath you, so you can’t help but lay your body down, half-opened eyes still trained on the screen. The colours seem to mix together eventually, and you can’t keep your eyes open, letting the comforting embrace of sleep lull you. 

You don't even feel it when you fully fall asleep. 

There’s someone shuffling the covers, trying to be as delicate as possible as to not wake you up. You’re so tired that you let them move you around, feeling your head sink into the softest pillow you’ve ever felt. Then something warm envelops your body, and you fall unconscious again. 

Halfway through the night, you wake up again, fully opening your eyes. It’s completely dark in the room, save for the blinds drawn back, the moonlight illuminating some parts of it. You’re covered by a fluffy blanket, still laying over the duvet – someone must’ve placed it over you. You see Geto and Shoko both sleeping soundly on the floor on futon mattresses, the beanbags discarded to another corner of the room. 

But, where is… 

You feel movement from behind, and cautiously turn around, seeing the back of Gojo’s head, his white hair now a blue hue from the moonlight. He seems to be asleep too, shoulders slowly moving as he breathes slowly in rhythmic patterns, shoulders relaxed, and you smile. After the long day you’ve all had, you deserve a good night’s rest. 

You go back-to-back once more with Gojo, prepared to fall back asleep. You tuck your chin into the fluffy blanket, ready to close your eyes, but your gaze lands on the nightstand next to the bed. 

The notebook and pen that you were given earlier lay on the nightstand, with Gojo’s sunglasses neatly placed on top of the open notebook. 

Three different handwritings are scribbled on the paper. One is messy, almost ridiculously so, the other is neat, and the last is incredibly precise. All three read the same thing. 

- Goodnight. 

You smile. 

And you finally let yourself fall back asleep.

[ghostlyglimmer]

The Phantom's Bane

Chapter 1-3

Summary:

Danny Fenton’s camping trip turns nightmarish when he interrupts a cult’s ritual and becomes host to a lupine specter. Awaking amidst carnage and transformed with new, terrifying abilities, Danny must hide his changes from family and friends while battling the monster within. TLDR: Danny Phantom Werewolf AU

Notes:

Please be gentle this is the first time writing fanfiction since 2011. So I am very, very, very rusty. I also have horrible brain with words and numbers, so if I skip some words or there's misspellings that's why. I promise I can spell and can write adequately ;A; Also no beta reader so whomp whomp I can't find any angsty werewolf Danny fics so I figured I'd make my own. I hope you all enjoy! I'll also be including art that I'm sketching of this story later on :D

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Danny couldn’t believe his parents let him borrow Jazz’s car for this short camping trip. Who was he kidding, yes he can. After his parents surprisingly got the Ghost Portal working, they would only leave the lab for food and or the occasional bathroom breaks. Asking them anything while in the middle of a task will usually result in mumbled yeses. You bet that Danny and Jazz take every advantage they can to use it. 

Danny definitely needed a break. Being out here in nature should help reset himself for the start of the new school year.

Gripping the straps of his hiking bag, he sets off on the hiking trail. The scenery is absolutely gorgeous. Finding himself noticing even the smallest of fauna and flora. He peers down to see ants that are scrambling on a log carrying a large spider that was curled into a death pose.

‘Ants are crazy.’ he thinks to himself. ‘Wild that they can carry that despite how small they are.’ He lets out a small small and continues on the route while pulling out his map. He gets his bearings and treks towards the end of the trail. He gazes across the lake as he finally heads down towards the end of the hike. Seeing the sunset going lower and lower into the lake he decides that this should be a great place to set his tent up for the night. With a few pinched fingers and some mild cursing, he stands back with his hands on his hips looking upon the finished tent. He grins to himself in achievement at finally getting the dumb thing to stay together. 

He then unfurls his sleeping bag and throws it onto the floor of the tent and gingerly steps inside and zips up the entrance. He snuggles into a cocoon and sighs contentedly. This was a really refreshing day trip. He needed this. Solitude, Nature, and a place where he can think in peace. He slowly drifts off into a deep slumber. 

Danny awakens to the feeling of urgency. Duty calls. He emerges from his sleeping bag and finds a nice secluded area to water the bushes. While emptying his tank he looks to his left to see a warm light of a campfire and a group of people talking. 

Danny zips up and heads towards the commotion. The closer he gets the more he has the sinking feeling he should be crouching and hiding behind a bush. He listens to his gut and does exactly that. Peering through the leaves Danny sees a scene that would belong in a campy horror movie. Six robed figures around a large circular rune that looks like it was made with red paint. The color in Danny’s face leaves when he sees in the middle of the circle a beheaded goat. Now he knows where the red paint came from. 

Soon the group starts chanting: 

Spirits of the wild, hear our plea,Grant us strength and unity.By the moon and ancient trees,Bestow upon us nature's keys.

Wolves of shadow, guide our path,Through the forest, let us pass.With this chant, our bond is sealed,Boon of the wild, be revealed.

Danny gasps as the rune on the ground lights up an ectoplasmic green and within the circle a lupine figure bounds up from the ground howling. Danny screams and jumps back at the sight. All of the cultists whip around at the scream to see Danny standing there behind the bushes. The wolf standing in the circle looks about the group sizing everyone up. The cultists move forward towards Danny so that the wolf does not choose him for the ritual. The lupine specter’s eyes narrow and meets Danny’s Gaze her eyes a bright glowing yellow. 

Danny can hear a deep feminine voice echo in his mind. No doubt the specter

From shadows deep, I now emerge,With my blessing, feel the surge.Strength and wisdom I bestow,Nature's secrets you will know.

Walk with courage, tread with care,My boon upon you, everywhere.The wilds will guide your way,With this blessing, night and day.

The wolf bares her teeth and snarls bounding forward and entering Danny with a airborne jump. Danny falls to his knees, the wind knocked out of his chest. Danny feels so cold and starts to shake violently. The cultists stand around him eyes wide at what just happened. The she wolf was supposed to gift them the boon. Not this stupid teenager? They come closer to Danny yelling at him and surrounding him. Danny’s eyes open, startling the cultists. His eyes glowing a bright bestial yellow. Danny clutches his chest and screams in agonizing pain and before he knew it he blacked out. Listening to the cultist’s blood curdling screams in the background.

Danny gasped awake, blinking his eyes hazily. He groans as a massive migraine hits him like a truck. He sits up and rubs his face and takes a deep breath. He smells copper. Blood.

Danny opens his eyes to see the most gruesome scene he’d ever seen in his lifetime. The six cultists were torn to literal shred. Body parts strewn about, one guy lost his head. Literally. Danny starts to hyperventilate staring into one of the cultist's milky eyes. 

Danny looks down to see his hands. They were caked with blood and dirt. And he looks down further to see that he was not wearing any clothes. Danny blinked in confusion and horror. Wondering what the hell happened last night? He remembers going to pee and then he walked into a ritua-

“Oh my fucking god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh fuck.” Danny repeated over and over like a mantra. His stomach rising to his throat, nausea taking over. He wretched and wretched until it was just dry heaves. Wiping his eyes with his bloodied hands he looks down to the pile of his vomit and sees something. A pinky finger with a golden ring. 

Danny stares at it for a good 2 minutes and then he just starts laughing “Ha, ha ha hahahahahaha aaaaaaaaaah ahhahahh” Then his laughter turns into a raw sob. He can’t understand what is happening? Why did this happen? Why him? He just wanted to take a nice little day trip before school started again. Why? He tugs at his raven hair pulling it in force to see if the pain will wake him up from this nightmare. It did not work. 

Chapter 2

Summary:

After a breakdown, Danny Fenton cleans himself up and packs up camp. He heads home, avoiding his sister Jazz’s questions with a quick lie. Alone, he discovers unsettling changes: beastly yellow eyes and sharper canines. Despite Jazz's concern, Danny tries to maintain normalcy while grappling with his new reality.

Notes:

Once again I'm still new at this and have bad writing brain where my brain will skip words and spell things wrong even though I know how to spell them so be kind ;0; Phew, thank you for clicking! No beta reader so you get what you get~

Chapter Text

After Danny’s tear reservoir dries out. He sniffles and pulls himself up to his feet, stumbling like a newborn fawn. He looks over all of the corpses, taking in their faces and the carnage they faced. Danny searched through the cultists trying to find a robe that wasn't shredded into oblivion. He found one that wasn’t too bloodstained and then he gingerly removed it trying not to leave more fingerprints than he already had. He realized he doesn’t have shoes, and has no clue where they went so he checked each cultist’s foot to find a size that was somewhat similar to Danny’s.

With clothing successfully applied he ambles to the lakeside. Kneeling down towards the water's surface. He shoves his hands into the crystal clear lake cupping the frozen liquid to his face and scrubs until his face and hands burn. Once Danny got as much of the blood off as he could with the tools at his disposal, he took a deep sigh.

“Fuck, I have to go back to camp.” He mutters to himself. He gets up from the lake and ambles towards his homebase. He does not have the energy to take down the tent in slightest, but he doesn’t want to take any chances of anything being tied to him. So Danny slowly takes the tent down and packs it away. His head throbbing in his ears. He felt like utter shit. Finally he hefts the backpack on and trudges towards Jazz’s car.

 The trek was 20x harder this time around. Drunkenly trying to wade through the hiking trail. Thankfully at this time of the hour it was pretty slow in foot traffic so he managed to make it back without being seen. 

Logical Danny knows he should stay at the scene and wait for the police to come, but Emotional Danny’s brain shut off. The only thing in his head is just ‘Go home, go home, take a shower, sleep and wake up like this never happened.’

This is just a nightmare, it isn’t real, so what if he just went home?

Danny comes up to Jazz’s 2002 Toyota Camry and unlocks the door. He flops into the driver's seat looking up at the rearview mirror. He gasps seeing his eyes, a beastial glowing yellow instead of his normal icy blue. Danny blinks trying to will the eyes away. Praying that he just ate the wrong type of mushroom while practicing his foraging skills. He looked back and his eyes were normal again. He shakes his head and mumbles “What the fuck is going on.” He starts the car up and speeds home.

Danny surprisingly made it home without a speeding ticket. He parked the car and dashed up to the house bounding up the stairs. Jazz was in the dining room enjoying a grilled cheese. Before taking a bite she  glances Danny up and down with a furrowed brow opening her mouth to say something before he blurts out 

“Tucker wanted to do some LARPing, OK bye.” He then shoots upstairs with a slam of his bedroom door.

Jazz sat there shaking her head while taking another bite of the goopy sandwich. “Little Brothers” She mumbles rolling her eyes. 

Danny rips off the robe and throws it into his trash bin and quickly picks out some clean clothes and rushes into the bathroom, turns the water to the lowest temperature it can offer and sat on the floor of the shower staring at his hands while the chilled water caressed his new base line temperature of 101. Before he knows it he sobs. Clapping his hands to mouth to make sure Jazz couldn’t hear from downstairs. He sits there for what feels like eternity until a knock jolts him out of his dissociative stupor. 

“Danny? Are you good?” Jazz calls out behind the door.

“Ye-” His voice cracked. “Yes, sorry I’m almost done, give me a second.” Danny replies as he shut the water off. 

Jazz sighs and heads off towards her room to start gathering her supplies for her summer school tutoring session. She was always the brains of the family and Danny would be lying if he wasn’t jealous of the fact.

Danny pulls on some grey sweats and a comfy Doomed shirt that Tucker got him for his birthday 3 years ago. Next he grabs his toothbrush and squirts a small dollop of toothpaste. The taste of copper and bile still hung on his breath and he quickly shoved the toothbrush to his teeth. While doing so he lets out a yelp of surprise. Opening his mouth wide, he saw his bottom and top canines were sharper, more defined. He was in complete disbelief seeing what he was looking at. He pulled at his mouth to get a better angle of it. Jazz knocks once more asking

“Hey, are you almost done in there? I need to get ready for my tutoring session with Dash.”  

Danny spits out the toothpaste looking at all the blood that came out of his mouth. He grimaces and turns the water on watching the blood circling down. He grabs his deodorant and does a quick swipe and then pulls his shirt on and his pants and then opens the door. 

Jazz is standing there waiting. She looked at him and furrowed her brow.

“You look rough, are you feeling okay? Do you need some tums or an ibuprofen?” she asked quizzically 

Danny walks past her towards her rooms replying

 “No, thank you though. Good luck with Dash” And he makes a fake gagging noise after it.

Jazz chuckles at his quip and counters. “Okay, but if you do I’ll leave some on the counter in the bathroom for you.”

Danny yells thank you from the confines of his room.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Summary:

Danny retreats to his room, trying to sleep off his traumatic experience. He wakes from a nightmare of transforming painfully and notices enhanced senses, sharp canines, and intense meat cravings. The next morning, he wakes with claws, escalating his fear and confusion about his transformation.

Notes:

Thank you for getting this far ;w;

Chapter Text

He locked the door as soon as he entered and flopped onto the bed. Staring up at the glow in the dark stars that make out the shape of Orion's belt, the big and little dipper and ursa major and minor and more.

He charted them out and with the help of his dad they had made a beautiful map of the constellations. 

Sighing Danny covers his eyes with his arm squeezing his eyes trying to fight the horrible ringing headache. He feels like he got hit by a semi, then a train, and then another semi. He lays there letting the darkness of sleep wash over him. 

Danny wakes to a terror filled scream, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He bolts upright to a stand. Wearily he rubs his sleepy eyes to try to jumpstart them into functioning. He looks around himself, trying to gather his bearings. Finally it registers that he’s in the middle of a wheat field. All he can see is just rolling hills of the grainy produce. He gazes upwards to see a blanket of stars litter the night sky. Charting the stars out in his head. He then careens to his right to see a  giant full moon beaming down on him. 

He shudders, feeling a jolt of electricity course through his entire body. He screams out in pain clutching his chest trying to catch his breath. He looks down to his hands to his nails bulging upward. Watching in horror, he watches his nail bed snap, claws erupting from them with oozing blood to follow. He starts to hyperventilate. “This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.” He chanted trying to gaslight himself into a state of denial. He hears a growl behind him and he whips around to see a large lupine specter staring at him within the fronds of billowing wheat. With that the entire scene cuts and he jolts up in bed panting in a sweat.

Danny looks down to his hands to find nothing out of the ordinary. He lets out a sigh of relief and looks over to his rocket ship alarm clock to see that his alarm was about to go off. He reaches to turn it when suddenly the alarm goes off.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

He screams in surprise and covers his ears in pain. The alarm thundering against his ear drums. Jazz attempts to open the door, but Danny forgot that he locked it. He grits his teeth and removes one of his hands from his ear grimacing in pain. He quickly hits the off button and sighs with relief. 

“Danny? Are you okay? I heard you scream, can you please open the door or just let me know you’re okay?” Jazz asks behind the locked door. Danny stumbles out of bed and opens the door, a sliver, peeking his head out.

 “I’m good. The alarm scared me.” he said quicker than he intended it too. Jazz raises her eyebrow looking at him. 

“The alarm you’ve had since you were 5 startled you?” Danny rolls his eyes and then shuts the door. He sighs and gets started on getting his school stuff together for the start of the new school year. It starts tomorrow. He always dreads going back to school. The A-Listers fucking with him every chance they get, being the lowest of the popularity pole. At least he had Sam and Tucker. 

Oh god. Sam and Tucker. He sweats at the prospect of telling them what happened to him. Should he? No… They could get in real legal trouble if he roped them in on it. Harboring a fugitive, Wait, would he even be considered one? He didn’t kill them. He knows he didn’t, he couldn’t, wouldn’t! 

Danny shakes his head trying to shuffle the thoughts out of his brain. He signs and concentrates on getting his new year binders in order for each subject. Science is green, math is red, history is yellow, and English is blue. That’s the colors he always picked, every year. The rest of Danny’s day consisted of preparing for school, picking out his outfit for the new school year, and helping Jazz tidy up the house, and prepping dinner. His parents probably never noticed he actually went out on that hike. It’s always been like that. He resents ghosts so much. They took his parents from him. 

Danny’s eyes start watering while cutting up an onion. Jazz put him to work for dinner. They were doing baked steak. He was in charge of veggie prep and helping with the seasoning of the meat. While Jazz was working on the Gravy over the stove, trying to get it to start browning. Danny starts seasoning the beef flank. He never noticed how… delicious it smells. How much his mouth started to drool. He licked his lips and winced, he poked his tongue on his hand to see blood, he then gingerly moved his tongue on his canines and they were absolutely massive. They protruded farther than they ever have, and with a razer sharp tip to boot. He gasped stepping back and knocking into Jazz. Jazz yelped and was able to stop herself from falling face first into the boiling gravy. Jazz whips around and spats “What the hell Danny? Watch where you’re going! You almost gave me a gravy face mask!” Danny snickers at that comment and Jazz’s face flushes red. DANNY YOU’RE DISGUSTING GET OUT YOU’RE FIRED!” She yelled. Danny puts his hands up and chuckles while he bounds up the stairs towards his room. He stopped by the bathroom and decided to step in and check. He opened his mouth and gasped when he saw his teeth jutting out. The first thought that came to his head when he looked into the mirror

M O N S T E R

Danny covers his mouth and runs to his room. “It has to be temporary. This is NOT happening. Especially before the first day of school. Fuuuuck” He exclaims sliding down his bedroom door with a thump. Danny grabs his old diary he has had in middle school. He always hates pulling it out, the stuff he wrote in the past was so cringe. If his friends ever got their hands on it he’d never hear the end of it. 

Danny opens the journal to the first empty page. He jots down everything that has happened and a list of what has been happening to him and symptoms

-Teeth

-Craving Meat

-Night Terrors

-Smell & Hearing is enhanced?

He shuts the book and stretches. He looks at the clock to see 9:43 PM. He usually stays up a bit later than that but decided it might be a good idea to get a head start on a better sleeping schedule. Danny falls back onto his bed tracing out the glowing stars on his ceiling, his version of counting sheep. He slowly lulled into the darkness of sleep.

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

Danny jolted out of bed and smashed the alarm clock. His eyes wide as he watched the rocket crumple under his fist. He pulled back his fist as quick as he had smashed it and stared at it. He saw his nails were…. Claws. CLAWS? 

“Nononoonnonononnononoon.” He echoed over and over. Jazz knocks on the outside of his door 

“Hey Danny! Do you want a ride to school?”

 “No thanks Jazz, I’m going to walk today.” he replies hastily.

 “Okay! Be safe little brother, love you!” She finally walks away heading to the garage. Danny looked back down to his fist and noticed that the claws are still there…. Fuck. Teeth and now claws? Can this get any worse?

[theygender]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

1. 59,103 notes - Feb 18 2024

Having a vagina honestly sucks bc it's like you have to do fucking alchemy just to prevent yourself from getting sick. You've got an intricate ecosystem of microorganisms down there that you're dependent on for your own well-being and they can be set off by the tiniest fucking thing

Keeping your pubes too short can cause yeast infections, but letting them get too long can also cause yeast infections. Washing the area with specialized soap can help prevent yeast infections, but it can also cause them. Your periods can cause yeast infections, and so can the medicine you take to stop your periods. Having sex can cause yeast infections, especially if the person you're having sex with is diabetic (???). Being diabetic can cause yeast infections. Wearing the wrong clothes or eating the wrong things can cause yeast infections. Not getting enough fucking sleep can cause yeast infections. The list is neverending

Luckily, yeast infections are fairly easy to treat with OTC medicine that you can find at any Walmart. BUT! Even if all of your symptoms indicate that you have a yeast infection, you have to take a test first to confirm that it's a yeast infection (they do not sell the tests at Walmart) bc you might actually have the opposite of a yeast infection (bacterial vaginosis) which has the exact same symptoms as a yeast infection but is caused by an imbalance of different microorganisms. And if you use yeast infection medicine to treat a bacterial infection it will light your pussy on fire. So if you have a bacterial infection, you must instead visit your local witch doctor (gynecologist) and get prescribed special potions (antibiotics) to treat it

Antibiotics can also cause yeast infections

2. 46,742 notes - Nov 4 2024

You know I'm gonna be honest. I don't think all these apps really need access to my precise location

3. 4,152 notes - Oct 12 2024

Griddlehark isn't enemies to lovers. It's "crabs fighting to keep each other in a bucket" to "crabs sacrificing themselves to help each other out of the bucket"

4. 3,914 notes - Oct 16 2024

5. 865 notes - Sep 13 2024

Here's a video of my new black kitten to celebrate Friday the 13th

6. 387 notes - Dec 4 2024

The reason your brain feels shitty when you don't shower is bc the human body remembers its humble origins as a protovertebrate aquatic worm that breathed through its skin so when your pores get clogged the worm part of your brain thinks you're suffocating and gets scared. Going into the wet regularly helps keep your worm brain calm and happy bc it keeps your skin clean and also simulates the worm's natural environment of the old mid-cambrian ocean. Take care of your worm brain. It's hard being the evolutionary remnant of a creature so tiny it can't understand lungs trapped inside the body of a large complex mammal

7. 265 notes - Oct 22 2024

So apparently the symptoms for chronic fatigue include loss of memory, reduced concentration, and fainting/lightheadedness when sitting/standing up?? Why didn't anyone tell me about this 😭

8. 196 notes - Apr 16 2024

Imagine how cursed it would be if tumblr had a memories feature like facebook. If I had to log on and see like "8 years ago today you posted [vent about how much you wanted to kill yourself]" or "10 years ago today you posted [0 note flop that you tagged #funny #meme]" I would just delete my blog

9. 156 notes - Jun 5 2024

Had a dream last night that the mushrooms in Mario games were realistic and you had to identify their species to find out if they were poisonous before you could eat them

10. 148 notes - Apr 10 2024

Harmonizing is gay as hell tbh. What are you singing alto for? Bc you want to be under another woman? Bc you want to support her and uplift her so she can achieve things that she never could have achieved alone, regardless of whether you get anything in return? Bc you want to entwine your body voice with hers until no one can tell where you end and she begins? I need to lie down

Created by TumblrTop10

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝔼𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕌𝕟𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕟 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TW: sentient

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @hayillaaaaaaa @miguelito-maruti-blog

ᵀᴼᴰᴬʸ'ˢ ᴬᴿᵀ : An Encounter With the Unknown!? Cosmic Opera - Emu Otori

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Recently, you found a single player VR game that you absolutely fell in love with!! It had great storyline, fun minigames, managable and enjoyable exploration... it almost had no flaws! And even if you wouldn't like something, you could usually jsut skip it, thanks to not everything being forced!

Few days ago, you got on higher level~ Being 30! It wasn't much compared to the max. level, but you were still pretty proud of achieving this in such a short time~

"(Now I just have to craft some stuff and I can... Who's that?)"

You wondered as you noticed weirdly dressed for a village, short pink haired girl that was standing nearby the crafting table. She was... hitting it with minerals? As if trying to figure out how to start the process... as if she was the player...

But you just took it as fun NPC and side quest ocassion so you came up and crafted something out of minerals you took from her and handed her finished product, which she seemed to appreciate!

"This is so cool!! I was waiting so long for a player to come by finally!"

"(Is this part of some late April Fool's joke?)"

You couldn't help but question... though overthinking won't do much good, so for now... you might as well go on with it and see where it goes! It's just a game after all! It's not like anything can actually happen, right?

What concerned you more was that this NPC was staring right at you and you had no dialogue options available.

"Why's there no dialogue options..."

"Oh! That's because you can just talk to me! I'm not like other NPC's!"

"What-"

"I'm Emu!! And looking at your profile... you must be Y/N!"

"Yeah... you got it..."

"Hehe~ I'm so glad! Hey, how about this! I'll show you super duper cool place!!"

"(I meet weirdly sentient NPC, praying it's some kidn of joke... do I seriously want to go with them just to calm down my curiosity?)"

You took a moment to think a little bit about this offer, not wanting to jump into this too quickly...

"(Yeah, I do. I'm curious.) Sure."

"Yay!! No one ever agreed before! But I promise you won't regret that! You'll LOVE it!"

Not even getting a chance to react, you got teleported into some... weird space location... You never saw it on any spoilers, trailers or anything!

Not to mention the fact this felt so.. real... you lietrally couldn't feel ground under your feet... this must be a very cool and detailed design! Right?

"What the hell is this..."

"This is space of the game! Kinda like the backstage~ Even players become part of the game here!"

"Coo- Wait. What do you mean 'become part of the game'?"

She just shrugged and took your hand, jumping over invisible stones as you tried matching her peace. During your little tour, she pointed out many places... but what you found the weirdest was that through all of this, you couldn't see your stats anymore and she always brushed off your question about it...

You were honestly pretty creeped out by now, so you wanted to log out while she wasn't looking... but the menu wasn't working... Classic movement that you'd make to open the menu, didn't work... And when you raised your hands to take off the helmet, you felt just cold air...

"Emu... Why can't I get out...?"

"Oh! I told you! It's backstage of the game!"

"That's... this is very cool place but uh... I need to go now."

"Awh... are you busy? Will you come back tomorrow?"

"I'll... try...?"

That was straigh up lie. You weren't about to just come back as if nothing happened, but you needed to play a little play pretend to make it easier on yourself...

"Alright! I'll help you get back to the game world!"

"(Well that was easy...)"

You thought as she took you back to the village where you met her, as if nothing ever happened... You just dropped quick "bye" before quickly taking off the helmet, not even bothering to save and quit the game.

This was... too weird to be happening... She was literally sentient! You considered reporting this to game developers... but could you really do that after seeing she just wanted to make friends, despite being a bit too hyper about everything?

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[ridiasfangirlings]

fushimi having "not beef cuz i dont care about him i just hate him but its not because of anything" with bandou because he killed fushimi on a game in front of yata

I’m just imagining Fushimi finding ways to quietly and sneakily fuck up Bandou’s life and poor Bandou is like ‘what did I do??’. Like Yata invites Fushimi to join him playing some video game with Homra, Fushimi doesn’t really want to but Yata’s so excited and Fushimi did say he would try to get along with Yata’s clan so he agrees. He figures at least he can show off how much better he is at this than all those losers from Homra, like Yata keeps chatting about how good Saruhiko always is with video games and he can’t wait to see how well Fushimi does and Fushimi is possibly maybe a little bit looking forward to Yata calling him cool with shining eyes. And then they start playing… and Fushimi gets taken out like two minutes in by a sniper shot from Bandou. Bandou is all laughing over the voice chat like ha showed you guys, bragging about how skilled he is at this while Yata’s all oh yeah we’ll get you next time. Fushimi is utterly silent except for a single tongue click.

The next day Bandou logs into one of his gaming accounts to find he’s been hacked, his profile name was changed to ‘Sunglasses Loser’ and all his achievements have been wiped. He has no idea who did it but whoever it was must have been skilled because this guy left no traces behind. Yata overhears that and somewhere deep in his mind he has a moment of ‘Could it have been…? Nah, no way that guy cares this much about getting killed in a game.’ And then Bandou receives what looks to be a perfectly legit email that infects his entire PC with an untraceable virus and he has to do a full wipe and restore. Later he’s in the middle of playing a game tournament when his character freezes and nothing Bandou can do will get it to move, Bandou doesn’t know if he’s being hacked again or what, and a low level newbie sniper with a completely boring, uncustomized character takes him out. Homra gets called out to deal with a Strain and Bandou thinks at least this will get him away from his string of bad luck for a bit, only for S4 to ‘accidentally’ send the Strain in his direction (they swear they didn’t know he was over there, he didn’t show up on the map they had of everyone’s position on their PDAs) and now he has a cactus growing out of his head for the next two days. 

Bandou’s at the bar bemoaning his fate, wondering who he pissed off, as Fushimi comes to pick up Yata to go drinking. Kusanagi slides Fushimi a water and quietly asks if Fushimi is mad at Bandou for some reason, Fushimi has no idea what he’s talking about. Later even Yata’s like you know that character Bandou described as being really new looking and plain, isn’t that like what you used to use in jungle and Fushimi just shrugs, he doesn’t like that guy but why would he want to waste his time making a worthless person’s day even worse. Yata’s like that’s kinda harsh but I guess it’s true, there’s no reason why you’d be mad at him, totally oblivious as Fushimi adds that they should play video games again with Homra some time, Fushimi’s been practicing.

[chaiandtakkar]

Whispers beneath the stars

Chapter 23 

May 1999, Amritsar

Arnav logged into the chatroom with an easy confidence, anticipation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. His fingers moved over the keyboard as if drawn by instinct, waiting for the familiar notification that OceanBreeze was online. As the screen blinked with her arrival, a smile flickered across his face. His heart picked up a beat, a quiet thrill that only she could stir, though he wasn’t in any rush—knowing she was there was enough. Tonight, he was determined to press into the edges of their banter, savoring every playful line she threw his way.

OceanBreeze is online.

Just a name on the screen, yet it felt like everything—a presence he could almost feel, despite the hundreds of miles separating them. For a moment, he just stared at the screen, letting the simple sight of her name bring him a quiet, familiar joy. It was as if, in these brief connections, he had found a part of himself that fit nowhere else. He began typing, his words alive with the comfort and excitement she always stirred in him.

He typed out his usual greeting, his fingers flying over the keys with their familiar ease.

Skybound: Have I ever told you, Kishmish, that the only thing keeping this sky from floating off is the ocean breeze?

Her response popped up, quick and teasing, and he could almost picture her grinning on the other side.

OceanBreeze: Is that so, Mr. Sky? Are you sure you haven’t whispered that line to every breeze that comes your way?

A chuckle escaped him, and he settled into the warmth of their easy exchange, feeling that steady joy she always seemed to bring. Here, in these late-night conversations, he felt understood in a way he couldn’t explain, as though she’d seen his soul and somehow found it worthy.

They always went back and forth like this, laughter threaded between each line. Arnav reveled in the way she pushed him, kept him on his toes with her quick wit and steady deflections. But tonight, he wanted her to know just how much he’d heard in her silence, how deeply he felt the warmth she so carefully rationed out to him. He typed carefully, each word carrying the depth he knew she’d feel, even if she didn’t respond in kind.

Skybound: Now, now, that’s slander, Kishmish. Only one breeze has the power to keep this particular Skybound from drifting away.

Arnav’s smile grew, picturing her, probably tilting her head to the side as she typed, the way he imagined she did when something amused her. He leaned forward, fingers poised over the keyboard, carefully choosing his words to match her rhythm as her next message followed, laced with her usual wit.

OceanBreeze: Well then, I suppose I’d better keep this sky in line, don’t I? Wouldn’t want you floating off without permission.

Arnav felt the quiet weight of her words, the subtle restraint she always carried, like a delicate curtain she allowed him to part just enough to glimpse her heart. He knew she cared; he felt it in every playful jab and gentle tease, but he sensed her hesitation too, as if she were afraid to give too much.

Her words were playful, yet there was something else woven within them—an unspoken promise, a tenderness that filled him with a closeness that mere words rarely achieved. He took a breath, savoring this delicate moment between them, marveling at how lucky he was to have found a connection like this.

Undeterred, he pressed on gently, leaning into the warmth she offered in small, cherished doses.

Skybound: I must be the luckiest sky around. Although… if you ever tire of keeping me grounded, I’ll just have to drift around aimlessly, lost in the clouds.

Her response was quick, carrying a hint of mischief that made his pulse race.

OceanBreeze: Now who’s slandering whom? Maybe I’ll let you drift a bit… but I’ll always keep you within sight.

Arnav leaned back, eyes fixed on the screen as he ran a hand through his hair. His mind spinned with the words she hadn’t said yet. 

He felt emboldened to test the waters a bit more, to see just how far he can stretch this connection without asking for the confession his heart craves.

Skybound: Say, Kishmish, if I were to stop being a Skybound and take up something more practical—like, say, medicine—do you think you’d trust me enough to let me operate on you? You know, as an experiment?

There was a pause, and his eyes lingered on the screen, wondering how she would respond. When her message came, it was layered with just enough ambiguity to drive him mad with hope.

OceanBreeze: I suppose… if you were the one wielding the scalpel, I’d take my chances. Even if you made a complete mess, it would be an adventure worth the risk.

His heart skipped at that—the idea that she would trust him so completely, even when the stakes were high, when there was no guarantee of a good outcome. He felt a warmth settle over him, a glow that he only felt when she was there, somewhere across the country, sharing that silent space with him. He knew she was holding back, knew she hadn’t said the words out loud, but the trust in her tone filled the gap. There was a tenderness in the way she let him chase her words, allowing him just close enough to know she cared deeply.

He contemplated letting her know just how much he felt, but in the end, he chose patience. There was beauty in that waiting, in letting each moment build on the last, like a symphony slowly reaching its crescendo. He typed, each word carefully chosen.

Skybound: Now, that’s dangerous trust. What if my hands shook?

He typed it slowly, each word carrying the subtle, unspoken desire he could never quite put into words. He imagined her reading the message, feeling the tension in his question, and maybe, just maybe, sensing what he truly wanted to say.

Her reply came quickly, filled with the same lighthearted tone she used to mask the depth of her feelings.

OceanBreeze: Then I suppose I’d have to steady them for you. Can’t have my doctor panicking, now, can I?

Arnav’s heart thudded as he stared at her words, feeling the unspoken promise they carried. He wanted to touch her hand, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers, to pull her close and let his lips find hers in the quiet assurance of everything they’d left unsaid.

Skybound: I’d settle for steady hands. But maybe, someday… I’d trade it all for just one thing.

He paused, fingers hovering over the keys as he thought of the words he’d never said to anyone else—words that could bridge the space between them, if only he had the courage to press send.

After a moment, he hit backspace and deleted his message. Instead, he chose the safer path, one that hinted at his feelings without revealing too much.

Skybound: One day, maybe I’ll surprise you. I’ll be right there, just a whisper away.

She didn’t reply right away, and he could feel the silence stretching between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer. And then, finally, her response appeared, a soft admission wrapped in her usual wit.

OceanBreeze: A whisper away, hmm? That sounds… dangerous. But maybe, just maybe, I’d like that.

Arnav’s heart skipped a beat. He could almost feel her there, her presence filling the room, her warmth as real as the air he breathed. He wanted to close the distance, to tell her everything he’d hidden behind his jokes and half-formed confessions.

Skybound: So, if I were close enough, would you let me? Just one…

He let the thought linger, the words an echo of the quiet yearning woven into every message. There was a pause on her end and he wondered if she understood, if she could sense the way he ached to close the gap between them, to bridge the distance with a single, gentle kiss.

There was something exhilarating in that silence, a thrill in imagining her reading between his lines. He let himself relish the tension before her response appeared.

She responded, her words playful yet layered with something deeper, a gentle affirmation he felt down to his bones.

OceanBreeze: Well, Sky, if you were close enough… I might just surprise you.

He leaned back, his heart swelling with an almost unbearable sweetness. He could spend a lifetime in this, letting each unspoken word bring them closer. For him, loving her had never been about rushing to the end; it was about savoring each moment, each breath she took in response, knowing that this gentle dance of words was more precious than any confession could ever be.

They continued chatting, easy laughter flowing between them, but beneath every playful exchange lay a sense of certainty, a silent understanding that one day, when the time was right, they would finally close the distance that separated them.

Until then, Arnav was content—content to linger in these late-night conversations, to feel her presence through the words on a screen, to carry her with him in the quiet, unspoken spaces between their messages.

As the night wore on, his heart stayed light, his love for her unhurried and joyful, brimming with the sweetness of anticipation. One day, he knew, they’d step into the moment they both felt was waiting for them, like a shared secret under the stars, unhurried and inevitable. Until then, every word was enough, a gentle promise of all that was yet to come.

@arshifiesta

[angeygirl]

Captain's log Day 60?-70?

I have evaded Big Fishy and been graciously gifted some dynamite as thanks. The Music Box has been recovered and now I can teleport.

The gosh darn eel has gotten into my dreams. After another close call with Fishy, I was able to find one. It rotted so I rammed myself into the wall rather then wait all day for another chance. With the eel restored to me, I zoomed zoomed with magic, got an achievement for my recklessness and delivered the eel on time.

Now off to Stellar Basin

--------------------

X marks the spot right in the centre of the Basin, but that must be too easy. As I attempt to cross, I discover a creature I have named...

Big Wiggly

I find Stellar Basin deserted, except for a puppy. I take with with me, hit a rock and lose my light. and my motor. and my courage.

Rather then be claimed by the sea I bravely hit more rocks and reset. On my way back to puppy I find an abandoned lab that will probably be plot relevant. I recover the puppy and carefully make my way along.

A scientist asks me to be sure I'm using all the game mechanics, and also tells me to go out at night. I catch the jelly and squid with no issue. While I wait to find the octopus in a crab trap, I see a group of them swimming in a circle.

They are simply beautiful.

I go to sell my other trawl fish and sell my octo as well... back to fishing I suppose. This happens twice.

The researcher sends me out to the relevant lab to unlock the Abyssal fishing gear. Traveling Merchant and I improve the design and I test it on some loosejaw. Now, I must activate the Doohickey to hopefully get Big Wiggly to leave me alone long enough to find the fishies living in The Depths (dun dun dun)

[nylathriasoulseer]

A Cosy Night In

Where: Avalon - Sylaise Shore. When: After the Feywilds Standing stones Trigger warnings: Grief, emotions

Part of Nylathria wished she never answered that call to begin with. What a dumb idea that was, some of those people just reaffirmed her ideal that not everyone should know the strength of their soul. Bloody idiots, some of them with far too much unjustified confidence. But all that being said would she do it again? Even if it meant she would almost die again? Now that was the question.

She hadn’t realistically been away from Avalon that long, but there was nothing like its warmth, like the nostalgia. The memoirs of how Lyra would talk about the hero Isseya in front of statues in the Sylaise Shore. That woman was a nerd for Isseya, it was massively endearing, enough that their first kiss was in front of that statue, Nyla protesting it was the only way to shut her up. It had been her favourite pastime teasing her Wife.

Nyla must have been a sight walking through the streets of Avalon, she wasn’t exactly on her death bed but her face was bruised, gaunt, all colour gone from her cheeks. Thankfully most already thought she was the mad woman who lived by herself, drunk most nights singing her lungs out to some bad love ballad. Most who lived near here now were far too young to remember Lyra, to remember the joy that used to come from that memorial that's called a home.

Memorial was the right word, the home looked like it was frozen in time. It was surprisingly clean each memento of a person lost loveling cared for, their achievements in pride of place. A stack of closed letters all in the same hand writing addressed to Lyra claimed a desk in the far corner. Nyla knew exactly where to go when she came in, the kitchen. Retrieving a bottle of wine and a glass she kicked off her boot and went up stairs. The house had a chill about it, luckily in her room she had a fireplace and was quick about putting a few logs on, but while that warmed up the room she got herself a blanket and snuggled up on a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. Popping open the wine she poured herself a heft glass “ I know it will just be one glass… okay bottle.” she admitted but to what? On the fireplace shelf there stood what remained of her wife Lyra in her urn. 

“You would have been proud of me today, would have laughed at me too cheeky.” The blanket that was now tucked behind her shoulders so it wouldn’t fall down, what looked like two little hands protruded from the blanket to hold the glass of wine. “ I know, I know, don’t need to lecture me, I did the right thing.” The last part was almost in a mocking tone to an Urn that couldn’t respond. “I’m not a fan of this getting hurt part, that can fuck off. Did… did it hurt that much when…” Nyla didn’t have the strength to finish that question and instead opted for a big gulp of wine. “ I found out you could be out there, I kind of knew that already but confirmation was comforting, i don’t feel so crazy any more searching for you. Whatever you are now I don’t care I’m always going to love that soul of yours. But if you’re pining over Isseya again, girl we are gonna have problems.” Nyla was trying to talk to her wife with humour because if not she would cry and crying led to drinking bottles, she was trying to be responsible because her best friend would be able to knock her out of the next 100-year bender. “You wouldn’t believe what Lailani gone and done! She Sliver!” the night ensued from there gossiping to an urn. Given enough time Nylathria would drift off in her chair bundled before the fire with a content heart. 

[cedarboughs]

Hiking Journal: The West Coast Trail

Day III: Matter Over Mind

August 30

Camper Bay to Walbran Creek

Writing in my folded journal days later, I didn’t seem to want to think about this day too much. Writing this post half a month later (it’s been busy, guys) I have to reconstruct.

My main memory is mud. Deep mud, bridged, and I use that word very loosely, by random scatterings of discarded boards that sink to the unseen bottom as often as not.

At least I saw this little stream grotto with a nice mushroom.

People talk up the ladders of the West Coast Trail as the hard part, and I don’t know why. Ladders are fine. Ladders stay where you step on them!

We got relief from the mud down steep ladders to Sandstone Creek, which is a beautiful spot where water cascades down under the bridge and off a final drop into a sediment-scarlet plunge cauldron.

Then more ladders (the longest ladders on the trail) to Cullite Creek, a spot that could have and maybe should have been our camp, but was only lunch.

Logan Creek has no ladders. The new suspension bridge that replaced the down-and-up in 2021 seems out of place. In the sense that it’s not falling apart. Good thing, too— the 100 metre sturdy steel span is an uncanny reminder that civilization is out there somewhere. The Golden Skybridge of similar construction claims to be the highest bridge of that sort in the country, but the Logan Creek bridge seems higher than that tourist trap to me.

After the bridge, mud again— not just mud, but bog! Bottomless bog! When Dad slipped off a particularly round and slippery log crossing, he landed knee-deep, and in spots our probing poles went even deeper. Most of this bog is crossed with boardwalks— most, thus the logs, bridging one of a dozen or more spots where the boardwalk has entirely dissolved.

Stunted cedars grow here among dead grey spars of their forebear killed by the encroaching acidic slurry.

Past the bog— more mud! More roots! More deadly obstacle courses, step after gastrocnemius-burning, high, meticulously planned step, kilometre after painstakingly slow kilometre. I moved beyond doubt into certainty that I wouldn't make it. After all, we weren't even particularly close yet to kilometre fifty out of seventy-five. How could I possible do the last three days again, twice, and still have further to go?

Trekking the West Coast Trail is a matter of matter over mind. One must accept, mentally, that the achievement of completion is impossible, that one absolutely can't, by any rational means or measure, take another step. Accepting this conviction frees up the precious energy that one might use up in fighting it. Then, while the mental battle resolves in surrender to stepping no more, simply find, stretch for, and take another step.

Somehow— writing by hand on the evening of Day VI I didn't remember how, nor has it come back to me by the time I type this out— we stumbled into Walbran Creek Camp as early sunset began to colour the sky over the distant mountains of the Olympic Peninsula in another nation far across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Theoretical Cascadian interdependence notwithstanding.

As I watched the surf break, an alien black triangle emerged from the near water. Grey whales, rolling in the shallows to dig up a feast of sand-dwelling critters. They kept at it all night, huge fins rising out of the wave troughs with fluked tails flipping behind.

The campsite was busy as we made dinner, tents all packed in among the driftwood, barely a spare metre between them.. The whales played all night, but I needed sleep. I didn't know how I could continue, but I would continue. They did say at orientation that we should celebrate at Walbran, because the hardest part was past. We still weren't even a third of the way, and I'd been crying out of despair on the beach.

I left my vestibule open that night, propped wide by my poles.

Between the poles as I lay down my head, I could still see the whales turning in the surf below and the darkening twilight sky above. One star came out over the fading outline of Washington. Jupiter, maybe, the king of planets and pantheons playing evening star, or else bear-guarding red giant Arcturus beaming on a summer night.

Later on towards midnight when I woke, the sky was bright and clear. The galactic plane flowed bright into the ocean. Bright Vega and Lyra were overhead. Draco twisted among the twin bears. On the tip of the cub's tail, Polaris pointed onwards. Pointing north.

Even the great celestial hieroglypsh are bodies of dust illuminated / And if the heavens can be both sacred and dust / Well maybe so can the rest of us.

[sociallyanxiouscryptid-writings]

Robbery

Villain has been robbed, a task that should have been impossible, but worst of all they have no idea who, how, or even what was taken. 

Based in the OC World of a bigger project

CW: Swearing, fight, blunt weapons, knives, blood, death/killing, control against will, threats

~

Villain sat at their desk and stared at the note in front of them, folded in  half and propped up like a little tent, words drawn neatly on its side. If you were to pick it up and look inside you would see more letters, words Villain already had burned in their brain.

They had to admit their hand writing was pretty, educated, crafted even. Someone had taken the time to write these letters perfectly, or perhaps it was a skill they had simply mastered.

On the outside of the note was the word sorry, and inside read: Had to borrow a couple of things, hope you don’t mind!

Of course Villain would mind and the writer knew that, why else would they leave a note? Why else would they say those words? They knew exactly how pissed off Villain would be and they wanted to just add a cherry on top. Villain had been robbed, and to make it worse they had, had no idea until they found the note, sitting on their desk likes this.

Not only had someone stolen from them, undetected, but the thief made it all the way into Villain’s office and left a fucking note without activating a single alarm, without a single security guard noticing them. Part of Villain was impressed, it was a feat previously thought impossible, that not even Heroes had achieved. The other part burned with a rage hotter and more deadly then any fire in hell.

And the worst part, because this only gets worse, Villain had no idea what was even taken. With no alarms to go off and no camera footage having caught sight of the supposed thief, Villain had to send people to search the vaults, to go through every logged opening and close of the gates, the doors and the vault itself.

Villain has no idea who, what or why, just a note of apology.

The door to Villain’s office opened and Right Hand walked in without hesitation.

“Please tell me you have something,” Villain said.

Right Hand stopped in front of the desk, crossed their arms.

“Well, they somehow managed to avoid every camera in the facility, which at least now we know we have blind spots.”

“We don’t have blind spots,” Villain said, “I designed this place myself. We have blind slivers, tiny moments in between camera movements, there is no possible way someone could have timed those up.”

“Well I think we may need to adjust what we believe is possible,” Right Hand said and pulled a folded piece of paper out of their pocket. Villain took, it unfolded it, read it once, then twice, looked up at Right Hand.

“They used the code?”

“Someone plugged it in, and yet we have no record of someone accessing it. Security was in the booth all night, no one asked them for it.”

“Alright I know what we just said but that is actually impossible. The code changes combinations every minute, the only people who can see it is security. Was there a breach in the firewall? Were we hacked?”

“No, none. And the Telepathic fields were up so no one could have read Security’s mind. As I said, the impossible is old news. Whoever this person is must have some ability for them to just… well I don’t even know what, but they used the code to open the vault, and they avoided every camera and alarm in the building.”

Villain studied Right Hand carefully. “You haven’t said what they’ve taken yet.”

Right Hand sighs.

“I don’t like that sigh,” Villain said.

“Well, they took one of our experimental explosives, which you know, not great.”

“But.”

“But… they took Nathanial’s Grimoire and the Amulet of Gruel.”

Villain felt like laughing, felt like punching a wall, and biting an ear off. They took in a breath, steepled their hands and rested their lips against their fingers. Once again they were impressed, that’s a lot of important shit to take, some very important shit.

“And we have no idea who they are?”

“No, but we have teams working to track the book now as we speak.”

“If our thief knows what they are doing they won’t be able to track it for long, which means we have a very narrow window to find it before they undo everything I have worked for.”

Villain stood from their seat.

“Get Antony to send out teams across the city, give them all trackers and tell them to move as fast as possible.”

“Already on it, they are readying now. I was more here to see what you wanted me to do.”

“We are going to search a different way.”

Right Hand nodded and followed Villain out of the room.

~

Civilian felt like they were trying to dislocate their jaw. No matter how much they had squished down the sandwich every time they bit into it, they had to open their mouth as wide as possible and then some to fit it in. It wasn’t helping that they were trying to eat it with one hand, and when bits started falling out they resorted to taking smaller bites, getting bits and pieces at a time. Still tasted good.

With their other hand, covered in a thick glove, they reached over to the book in front of them and flipped a page.  The book was big, and old, and beautiful, covered in sigils and gold leafing, leather binding its sides. The pages were all delicately painted, pained over to get every picture and letter right. Civilian appreciated the effort and was careful to keep their sandwich away.

They licked mayo from the corner of their mouth, flipping over another page. It was all fascinating stuff, but not what they wanted.

The hotel room they were in was small, ridiculously so for the price, not to mention to state of it. Civilian was sat on the faded carpet, coughing table dragged over to the window the catch the evening light. Civilian had tried using the lights inside the apartment but they were so yellow they could barely see the details on the pages. They scanned over another two pages before turning them again, brows knitted together in concentration. It was hurting their head. Usually, it didn’t take them much effort to get what they want but something about this book was making it difficult.

It wasn’t that they didn’t know the language, that’s never been an obstacle before, nor that their knowledge of magic was limited, they would simple just expand that limit. But there was some sort of interference from the book itself, a static that buzzed in their mind.

They sat back and took another bite of their sandwich, shifting their eyes away to try and alleviate the pressure in their head. It didn’t really work. After a couple more minutes trying Civilian closed the book, the pressure in their head becoming almost unbearable. They turned and opened the window, letting in a wash of fresh air as they stood in the sunlight, taking a deep and calming breath.

A phone to their left rung and they placed the sandwich down onto  some paper wrap, wiping their hand against their shirt. Caller ID unknown.

“Hello,” Civilian answered sweetly.

“Where the fuck is my bomb?”

They flinched and held the phone away from their ear.

“Really Gerard there is no need to yell, your voice is coming across fine.”

“You lied to me, and you stole from me.”

“I didn’t lie to you Gerard, and I didn’t steal from you, you just gave me information you didn’t know you were giving me.” Civilian took a bite of their sandwich. “And let’s be real here, I have a much better use for the bomb then you do.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come now, your plan is as plain as day. You were going to detonate it in the School of Word because that’s where half the council’s kids go.  I mean really man, kids? You think people are going to side with you over the council after you kill a bunch of school kids? You’re just giving the council more fuel for the fire, not to mention the fact that morally, once I know that, I have to stop you.”

“You want to talk morals with me? How about-”

“Kids are a different story man, you don’t hurt kids, they have no part in any of this. Asswipes like you however I have no issue with harming. Which is something you should keep in mind.”

“You have no idea what-”

“You should know by this point, I do in fact know what I am talking about, and I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. Now maybe we can rethink this plan of yours into something a little more productive.”

“No I will tell you what I am going to do. I am going to find you and I am going to make you regret betraying me.”

“I didn’t betray you Gerard, I was never loyal to you in the first place. I just had a nice conversation with you and now you’re butt hurt because my plan was better. See, much less dramatic.”

“I am going to tear you limb from limb, you will beg-”

“Ok good luck with that.”

Civilian hung up.

They sighed, leaning forward until their head rested against the cool glass of the window, knuckles whitening against the phone.

“I don’t have time for this.”

They stood their a moment, trying to think their way around the situation but every path they went down met with a wall until there was only one path remaining. The one path they didn’t really want to go down.

Civilian turned and picked up the book, moving it over to a an almost equally as old looking brown leather satchel, tying it in firmly. They stood, piking up their plate and walking it over to the kitchen bench where an even more ancient looking Gold amulet, its centre adorned with a transparent black crystal that held a mummified human eye inside of it, sat. And next to it was a glass box, inside a perfectly spherical metal ball with knobs and buttons across one side.

Civilian placed the plate down, picked up the amulet and hung it around their neck before nestling the glass case under one arm.

~

The polluted night sky was nothing but a black void. Villain had never liked cities, this reason among many. Being separated from the stars felt like being separated from a lover, from a friend, even a parent. The stars had been with them longer then any human had. Watched over them in their childhood, watched them grow into the horrible person they were today. But they didn’t judge, in fact they couldn’t give less of a fuck, and Villain appreciated that.

But here in the light polluted city, Villain couldn’t see a single one, just a black void stretching out above skyscrapers and towers. The roof Villain stood upon was much shorter then those, though still a towering fortress.

“Staring at them isn’t going to make them suddenly appear,” a voice said behind Villain.

Villain did not move, just continued looking up.

“Perhaps, but in my minds eye I can paint them out.”

“What’s your obsession with them anyway? They’re cool and all but like they’re just lights, I don’t get it.” Hero stepped beside Villain, looking up at the void.

“That’s because you grew up in the city. Seeing them for you was a treat, for me its home.”

“You could always go back home, stop being a pain in my ass.”

Villain grinned, looked down and at Hero.

“Oh  no, I have way too much fun here. Besides there is too much work for me to still do before I can think about retiring.”

Hero sighed.

“Yeah, so you keep saying, not that you ever tell me what your work is.”

“You will know when the time is right.”

Hero just rolled their eyes.

“Enough chit chat, why did you summon me here.”

Villain turned away from the edge of the building to face Hero completely.

“Don’t play dumb, you know why I brought you here.”

Hero raised their brows. “Well that’s news to me.”

Villain eyed them, frowned.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

Villain laughed, it startled even them, but they laughed at the absolute absurdity of it. There is no way it was another Villain, they would know about that, so it had to have been the Heroes, but if Hero doesn’t even know… Who the fuck broke into their facility?

“I was robbed last night,” Villain said.

Hero’s face almost split itself in half their jaw dropped so fast.

“What?! How? That’s impossible.”

“So I thought, but clear as day someone stole from me, even left me a little note.”

Villain took the note out and handed it to Hero. They kept talking as Hero examined it.

“I had assumed it was the heroes’ doing since no Villain had, but apparently not.”

“No, an operation like that would have definitely reached my ears, your place is a fortress.”

“And yet someone got in, completely undetected. If they hadn’t left a note, then I wouldn’t have known until next time I opened the vault.”

“Interesting,” Hero said.

“Exactly.”

“Why would they alert you if they could have gotten away scott free?”

“Well since no ransom or deal has been proposed my current theory is they just wanted to show off. Or tell me they’re about to destroy the world.”

Hero cocked their head as they looked at the note.

“Hmm, no I don’t think so. I am not getting end the world vibes from this.”

“What are you getting from it?”

Hero placed a hand over the note, pressed it between their palms and a flash of green went through their eyes.

“Desperation, anger but very aimed anger. This person was on a mission, a goal, but not to end the world. To… find something? It’s a bit hard to tell, I’m getting a lot of interference.”

“Can you tell if they’re a witch or a mage?”

Hero took a second before slowly shaking their head.

“No, but definitely one of the two and definitely strong, as strong as you perhaps.”

“Mm, I figured they’d have to be at least somewhat powerful to pull this off.”

“Yeah, just what we need, another you or superhero to play gods in this world.”

“Be careful now, I’m sensitive about that subject,” Villain warned, voice low.

“And we have a deal that you won’t play mind games with me, so I can say what I like and you will let me go or I rat out this whole operation to the other Heroes.”

Hero went to put the note in their pocket but Villain snatched their wrist. Hero gasped as their body seized, eyes stuck staring into the darkness of Villain’s.

“Tsk, tsk, come now Hero I have treated you so well up until this point. You’re going to try and blackmail me now?”

Villain pried the paper from Hero’s gasp.

They sighed, “I should have seen this coming, you types always get cocking at some point, never able to stay on your own level.”

Villain moved, still holding Hero’s wrist, Hero’s body walking itself along side them.

“Do you want to know why I always meet people on the roof? And no its not just so I can look at the stars.”

Villain stopped a metre away from the buildings edge but Hero’s body kept going, walking in front of Villain, turning so their back is to the drop and they are facing Villain.

“I know you are hoping that this is just a warning, and once upon a time when I was young and hopeful I would have given you a warning. But experience has told me that once this spark is present there is not putting it out.”

Tears ran down Hero’s face, their body still stiff, mouth unable to move while their mind screamed and begged. Villain smiled softly.

“You were a good pawn, I will miss you.”

Villain let go of Hero’s wrist and Hero gasped a scream about to pass their lips when Villain struck out with their other hand and pushed them off the building. Villain peered over the edge, watching and waiting for the thud, the screams. Their phone vibrated and they pulled it out, just as a woman screamed below.

“Yes?” They said, turning and walking away from the edge.

“We found something, not the thief but where they stayed.”

“Find anything useful?”

“Just that this was a one person job and they like chicken, cheese and mayo sandwiches.”

“Well, that’s not exactly useful, but I’ll take it, can any of the trackers get anything from the sandwich?”

“There is some interference, but they think they might be able to.”

“Mm, that seems to keep happening. All hands on deck when we do find this person.”

“Yes sir.”

~

Civilian sat on a chair in the middle of a warehouse. Night had fallen and everything was dark bar the single LED lantern in their lap and light spilling in from the street outside. For anyone else it made for a difficult place to see in, for Civilian, eh.

They watched the silhouettes arrive, a small army by the looks of it. Of course Gerard might have been a pain in the ass, but he was smart. Civilian hit a button on the remote in their hand the the large roller door began to open, stopping the the army in their stride. Gerard stood in front of them.

“Well you took your time,” Civilian said, standing, holding the lantern in their hand. “I only left you like 20 messages.”

“You think you’re so smart don’t you,” Gerard said, walking in.

“Just a little?” Civilian shrugged. “I mean I tricked you, didn’t I? Though if I am honest that was not very hard at all.”

The small army spread out as they walked in, surrounding Civilian, armed with bats and crowbars and knives and other quite unpleasant ways to die.

“You are messing with things you can’t even begin to imagine. I didn’t get to where I am by letting idiots like you punk me around.”

“Punk you around? Who even says that anymore? Is that even a saying?”

“Shut your fucking mouth or so help me I will cut out your tongue and make you eat it.”

“Ouch,” Civilian said.

“You have two options here, either-”

“No, you have two options here,” Civilian cut in. “Well, your people do. You Gerard are going to die here to night one way or another, but everyone else, if you don’t want to have a short end to your life this is your one and only chance to leave.”

A few chuckles went through the crowd, a couple of uncertain glances but no one moved.

“Who do you think you are?” Gerard laughed. “You think you stand any sort of chance against all this?”

Civilian smiled, “I don’t know Gerard, do you? Why did you bring so many people?”

His jaw tightened.

“I broke into the most secure facility in the world and stole from one of the most feared and you think I am afraid of a gang of non-magical, non-gifted humans? My dear boy I may be a nobody, but that doesn’t mean I’m helpless.” They pulled off their sunglasses, “and you know full well I’m not human.” Silver eyes shined in the dim light.

“Fuck this,” Gerard snarled, “kill them.”

“Good luck,” Civilian said and closed the lamp. Darkness descended and the swing of the bat by their head went wide, easy for them to dodge and grab. The bat came into their grip, and they slammed the end into the owner’s stomach, stepping back to dodge another’s swing and parrying another.

Everything quickly turned into a flurry of movement, a blur of swings and kicks and punches, blood and broken bones. As their eyes adjusted the enemy’s swings became more accurate, someone grabbed Civilian’s hair and pulled them back, opening up a moment for a swing to the ribs. Civilian broke the hold and was free again, at some point they got punched in the face, which they returned.

Civilian moved with incredibly speed, like a cloud of smoke manoeuvring itself around attacks, flitting through the air. But they were much more solid then smoke, and despite their speed and ability the sheer number of people around them was enough to fail them. Hands and weapons were everywhere, like a crowd of children all reaching in to grab the one toy. Someone got a solid hit to Civilian’s knee and as they dropped a blade found their shoulder. Hands grabbed them and pulled them up, wrapping around their arms and several somethings cracked against their ribs.

Civilian kicked back against them, making enough space to dislodge their arm, remove the blade from their shoulder and stab it through someone’s throat.

Gerard watched from the back, moments of victory, of ego and triumph rising, as he watched each hit to Civilian. But the longer he watched the more the triumph began to die. Despite the seemingly winning blows Civilian did not go down, and one by one Gerard watched his people fall, until Civilian snapped the neck of the very last person.

Civilian did not look good. Blood spread across their shirt, dripped down their arm and onto the floor. Their breathing was ragged, bruises were forming and as they reached down to pick up their sunglasses a sharp breath stopped them. They used a bat to ease themself down, pluck the glasses from the ground and then ease themself back up. Gerard should have taken the time to run, to fight, to do something. Instead he just kept staring, and watched them turn to him.

“Well would you look at that,” Civilian said. “I was right. Who would have guessed it.”

Survival instincts kicked in and Gerard span on his heal and bolted for the exit but before he could make it even a step something hard and fast took out his legs. The bat clattered to the ground beside him as he tripped and fell with it. His head smacked against the ground, black dots dancing in his vision. Civilian appeared beside him, picked up the bat.

“You had so much potential Gerard, could have done so many things with your life and instead you chose this.”

“Please…”

Civilian raised the bat.

“I gave you ample opportunities, this is your own doing.”

They brought it down on his head.

Their shoulder wailed in agony.

“Fuck,” Civilian cried as they let go of the bat.

Their whole body screamed, if their ribs weren’t broken it was a fucking miracle, something was definitely wrong with their knee, and if they don’t act soon, they might just bleed out.

They grit their teeth as they walked towards the door.

“Fuck this,” they groaned, reaching the door and collapsing against the door frame.

They didn’t have time to be injured, time to find somewhere to patch themself up. They had to finish the book, do the ritual, they had too..

Civilian lowered themself to the ground, panting.

“Fuck,” they growled. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

They used the wall to pull themself back up, but their legs shook.

And if things couldn’t get worse, they looked up.

“Well this is interesting,” Villain said, standing a bit away on the street, a few other people coming into place around them. “Not the state I expected to find my master thief in.”

Civilian gripped the wall to hold themself up.

“Not really a master, just kind of lucky.” Their hand is slick with blood. “Not that I feel very lucky right now.”

“You don’t look very lucky either,” Villain said, “Piss someone else off I take it?”

“You could say that.” Civilian was struggling to see straight.

“Well, I was preparing to have to fight you but by the looks of it you’re going to fall over in a second. Do you want my medics to grab you before that happens?”

“I mean if that’s an option sure. Saves me the trouble of a concussion or something.”

Villain looked to their left and one of the people broke away, approaching Civilian. In the doorway of the warehouse Civilian was shrouded by shadows and as Medic approached and got a better look at them, a panic found their features.

“We need to take them in now,” Medic said.

“It’s only a little blood loss,” Civilian said, their grip slipping off the door frame. Medic grabbed them, the impact agonising but Civilian didn’t have the energy to react.

The Medic look up, looked in to the warehouse.

“Holy shit,” they breathed. “Sir, come look at this.”

Villain frowned and approached, eyeing Civilian before looking into the room. Their brows rose, absolute carnage.

“Well you missed the perfect opportunity to say, ‘you should see the other guy’,” Villain said.

“Mm, damn,” Civilian muttered.

Villain eyed them again, the blood.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Medic picked Civilian up bridal style and carried them behind Villain.

Even in this state Civilian seethed. What a fucking mess.

 ~

Part 2

Let me know what you think! And if you folks have any recommendations of what I should write I am open to requests and the such.