#east blue is a sea of demons and supernaturals

[b0ring-n4m3]

Blue Exorcist Charachters as Mythical Creatures

With limited palette!

Takezo was the pride of the Shima family. The perfect son. His father, Yaozo, was comfortable leaving the role of Head Hunter to Takezo. The boy was everything a Hunter was expected to be, a champion of humanity against the supernatural: strong, determined, intelligent, but also kind and compassionate. That hadn't changed after the attack, even though everyone thought it had. He'd been attacked at the back by a vengeful vampire, and though now dead, the guy left him a pretty special little present. Takezo suffered one excruciating night before passing away at dawn, but he was not dead. Oh no, maybe that would have been better. At the next sunset, his eyes opened and they were red. A newly-turned vampire is quite dangerous because he doesn't have a grip on his instincts yet and the Shima family was reasonably concerned about his new condition. But that was Takezo. So they tried to adapt, to endure. But the family's generations-old suspicion and resentment against supernatural creatures was hard to erase. And Takezo understood perfectly. He tried to behave at his best, to be even more efficient during the Hunts but it was of little use. A drastic reduction of contact with his family and, eventually, isolation were self-imposed. It was for the best.

(TW: in Renzo's story there's implicit s3xual 4bus3, begin to read after the Snake Defender🐍 if this triggers you)

Every Hunt was dangerous. Most of the time, the worst thing that could happen was losing a limb or a team member. This time Yaozo Shima, Head Hunter and head of the Shima family, was bewitched by a Succubus. When he awoke in his bed the next morning, he couldn't recollect how he had gotten there and his memories of the encounter were fuzzy.

🐍He shoved it off in favor of more important matters, such as the situation of his eldest son, Takezo. But 9 months later the reminder of that night showed up on the Shimas doorstep. A child. A baby with pointy ears and a tail. A demon. Yaozo still welcomed him and tried to explain the situation to his family, but none of its members could properly provide for the needs of the little demon. The Shima killed the supernatural, they didn't look after it. Well, now there were two exceptions to the rule and it seemed fitting when Takezo quickly warmed up to the boy and took it upon himself to raise him. He called him Renzo. However, the atmosphere in the house remained very tense and did no good to anyone. Reluctantly, one night Takezo took Renzo, the essential for living in two, his Khakkara and left the house where he was born and raised. It was for the best. He went beyond the sea, beyond the barrier of Blue Flames- for an infinite moment Takezo feared the Blue Flames would have consumed them but they were actually nice warm on his skin and baby Renzo giggled at the sensation- and into supernatural territory. He settled in the South mountains, where is dryer than in the East. In retrospect, perhaps Takezo hadn't thought it through that much. What did he know about raising children, let alone half-demon children? It happened that another, much older vampire was dealing with a similar situation. Shiro Fujimoto was a great help during Renzo's early life. Then came Yamantaka. The old demon with the snout of a skeletal goat and made of Black Flames was weak when 7-year-old Renzo first met him in the woods at the foot of his mountain and the two made a pact. They bonded together and, despite Takezo's initial concern, Yamantaka took care of Renzo, protecting him and helping him on his hunting trips. As a half-human, Renzo fed on emotions rather than on actions like a pureblood Succubus/Incubus, and less often, since human food complemented his diet very well. Turns out that black flames help a lot with the atmosphere of an Incubus attack. However, it must be said that Renzo liked to use his inheritance as an excuse to flirt with illustrious members of society. Many believed it and joked about it, Yukio didn't. But Renzo was sure it was different with Yukio, more real. And he's nothing but determined. He took after his father/brother in this, but Takezo's goal was to protect his son/brother because he knew that sooner or later the Hunters will arrive and, with them, the Shima family. The barrier of Blue Flames is growing weaker and weaker after all...

[enu-enu]

Sea of Monsters by @whirlybirdwhat. One Piece AU. It's a really good fanfic and it wouldn't leave my mind so I made this.

Close up of the five demons from the East blue below:

[theflashdriver]

Silvaze Pirate AU: Present or Plunder

I’ve had this for a while, I always thought Silvers powers would be capable of creating a great ghost ship. I hope you enjoy!

"Your majesty, are you certain this is the best course of action?" Gardon, an elderly Koala who served as the royal retainer, whispered to his young ruler. "Forgive my saying this seems a little… blunt? A little too direct perhaps, would you disagree?"

Blaze the cat, the sole monarch of Sol, stood at the bow of a warship; eyes locked on a horizon obscured by mist. Eight of her ships and, if reports were to be believed, countless pirate vessels had undergone a plundering described by many supernatural. Due east of Southern Isle, a few miles from the common trade route, was an area prone to thick fog yet strong winds. When the wind was right merchant ships, desperate to meet deadlines, often took this sub-route in hopes of making up for lost time. No one had been injured, the ships went undamaged, but whenever her vessels had entered the fog an ultimatum allegedly sounded. It was best described as a demand for tribute, the choice to throw their valuables to the depths or have phantasmal light seize them. Regardless of the truth, to steal from vessels bearing her flag was a declaration of war.

"Blunt as it may be, they only attack singular ships; we cannot bring our naval might. I want to put an end to this nonsense as quickly as possible. I'll prove this is a pirate front, apprehend the perpetrators and drag them home for trial." She'd spoken plainly, focused on the task at hand rather than formality, as was often the case.

"Of course your highness, forgive me." The old man lowered his head, regalia jangling as he bowed. "You know I worry."

"I'm aware, though, regardless of the reason for this venture," Blaze spared him a glance, the faintest outline of a smile graced her lips, "It is nice to be outside castle grounds. Especially on less serious business." Though Gardon was Blaze's most trusted advisor he'd practically raised her and that, naturally, came with some baggage. He was the closest she had to a parent, she the closest he had to a daughter and yet she was his ruler. "Do drop the titles, while we're out here at least."

He sighed, resuming his usual high shouldered and stiff posture. "If you insist. Shouldn't be long till we breach the fog, are you prepared?"

Free of her kingdom the feline had shed her royal garb and a far more comfortable outfit had taken its place. A purple long coat, adorned with silver buttons bearing the royal insignia, obscured a white dress shirt. A pair of cavalier boots protected her feet while matching black tights shielded her legs. For fighting her foes, two swords hung at Blaze's waist. They were simple sabres, designed for duelling rather than combat, but her aim was always to subjugate rather than kill. She could, of course, rely upon the curse that ran in her blood but that came with repercussions. If those pirates came to trial branded the news would travel far and fast, dissuading other pirates but terrifying her people. They wanted a princess who'd rule them justly, not some demon sat on the throne.

"I won't know until I face them, will I?" As she spoke, turning fully to Gardon, she found his form faintly obscured. Despite her efforts, the fog had crept up on them. "Ideally this vessel serves as my transport but, if I fail, it's armed for a reason. Have the crew ready themselves, the so-called ghost ship should soon be upon us."

With less than a second's hesitation, the koala turned and began to roar orders in a voice the stark opposite that prior. Blaze heard footsteps pound across the deck and the sounds of heavy canons being rolled into place, all the while her gaze was fixed ahead; awaiting whatever form dared emerge from it. Her fur bristled against the salty wind, ears flickering as she tried to identify any shapes in the fog or hear something besides the crashing of waves.

She folded her arms, brow furrowing at her wasted effort, and turned to the stern of the ship. Despite the mist's attempt to obscure them, she saw men and women stood ready; twenty individuals discounting herself and Gardon. No lives had been taken in prior raids, but had these pirates faced such adversity? Twenty-one soldiers, each prepared to die for their princess, but ultimately; they were twenty-one lives she sought to protect. She'd trained since she could walk but it'd been months since she last truly fought and her presence alone likely wouldn't dissuade her foes, not without some show of power. Perhaps unleashing her curse would be enough; showing those pirates something truly supernatu-

Blaze lurched backwards, the wind had dropped from the sails… no, it was more than that. She cast her eyes up to them only to find they'd fully furled, the ropes that once held them were swaying as if caught in a gale; floating beyond the reach of her crew. Waves broke against the hull of the ship and yet it refused to rock. Before she could turn, Blaze sighted her shadow cast in eerie light; a pulsing blue glow that stretched her shade to its utmost lengths before returning it to its regular shape. Hands at her sword hilts Blaze spun on her heel, jaw shut tight as she steadied herself through bewilderment. The white miasma had been cast cyan; ghostly light shone from her own ship's hull as though it had been slathered in ectoplasm. But that couldn't be the case; it had to be some trick! She racked her mind; it had to be some weather phenomena or a trick of the lig-

"Present or Plunder?" The ultimatum was dealt, a booming voice echoed from the fog. But it was no ghostly moan nor haunting shriek, it was the voice of a regular person. This had to be a trick; it simply had to be!

Flinching at her own hesitation the princess turned back, drawing her swords lest the fool could see her. "You are no privateer! What right do you have to plunder? Pirates shall be punished to the full extent of the law! Surrender lest I drag you from your ship, repent and your lives will be spare!"

Silence swept over the sea, the wind did not whistle and her crew refused to move. Blaze knew she had chosen her words well, her voice was known throughout the land and, furthermore, she had given clear warning. No sailor, on their ship or hers, could claim she hadn't been merciful; other countries would have fired into the fog without hesitation.

The pirate's response was clear. "You have chosen Plunder. Your goods are forfeit. Cast your treasures into the depths or I will take them myself."

"Ready the cannons!" With her word Blaze drew her cutlasses, amber eyes sharpened in an attempt to cut through the fog. Unable to see, she shouted again. "You face the crown! Without surrender, there will be no mercy!"

As her first demand hadn't been met, Blaze doubted her opponent would reconsider but that shout was more intended to bolster her crew. To those of weaker minds and dispositions, this would seem like the attack of an adult. Whatever phenomena caused this ethereal light would, undoubtedly, cause the disappearance of their belongings; she just had to determine how and why.

Just as she began to ponder it, Blaze felt herself grow lighter; there was a tugging at her fingertips. It took but a moment to react but her grasp tightened as a bizarre blaring noise swept across the ship, it sounded like the moan of an alien whale. An invisible force had grabbed hold of her swords and (tug as she might) was refusing to let go; the pirates were trying to steal her swords from her very grasp. Digging in her heels, the feline's fangs came to bear. There was a scream behind her, she heard someone cry the word ghost, her bolstering had been for nought; she had to help them!

Irritated but unwilling to part with her swords, her curse bubbled to the surface; blistering flame were leaking from the mark on her back. Soon fire danced across her shoulders and wove its way along her arms, quickly arriving at her hands. With a roar and a final heave, those flames shot up her sword and tore away whatever had grasped them; allowing the princess to quickly return the blades to their sheathes and lock them in place. Despite having learned from this interaction, she was still puzzled. There was no hand grasping at her blades, yet they had been pulled away from her. Perhaps it was a bizarre magnetic phenomenon? If utilised correctly, that could explain her sabres being taken… but then why wasn't the metal on her clothes reacting and why had her flames-

Above the clamour Blaze heard Gardon yell out; "Your majesty! Come quickly!" But as she turned the feline found the fog had grown thicker still, her crew reduced to dark shapes moving within the cyan tinted clouds.

She dropped from the ship's head, racing across the deck and toward the largest cluster of ship hands. Though her journey was quick, with each and every step new shapes appeared through the miasma. Objects wear tearing themselves from the deck and floating toward the sky. Blaze heard koalas cry out as they were robbed of their swords, she heard the sounds of metal clattering and the deck creaking as it was relieved of strain. Following the elder's shouts, she managed to reach him; only half visible through the miasma.

"There's no gold on the ship so they're taking our weapons!" Gardon cried out, clinging to a koala as they clang to a cannon that was starting to float away.

"I've got it!" Blaze shouted, hardly even thinking as she clambered and swung her way up and atop the canon. Despite their combined mass, the cannon still hung in the air. She'd intended to set both it and herself alight when a thought dawned upon her. "Let go, both of you!"

"Blaze! What are you doing?!" Her elder subordinate yelled.

"Clearly we can't stop them stealing from us, whatever they're doing it's spread too far and they've already claimed too much!" She called back. "But, if they hope to steal our weapons, I'll make sure they get more than they bargained for!"

The koala quickly understood, she watched him open his mouth to shout again only for it to close. His eyes shut tight. "Are you sure about this?"

She wasn't, she was doing this on a whim, but she wasn't going to let that show. Steeling her brow and locking her swords beneath the weapon's barrel, further securing herself to it, she turned from him and gave one last shout. "Of course I am, let go!"

There was a final moment of hesitation, but she felt the canon shift higher into the air. She glanced back to the koalas only to find they'd vanished from view, her ship followed suit as she flew beyond its bow. She could make out other canons as she flew but, beyond that, the shape of their plundered weapons was beyond discerning. They'd travelled light, bringing canons, flintlocks and a few dozen swords. Considering the goods they'd plundered from her fleet alone, this was barely a drop in the bucket. Eventually, the smog started to thin and soon she could see that same eerie light ahead.

The enemy was anchored in the eye of the fog cloud, as she drew closer the clear zone granted her a perfect view of both her stolen goods and the ship. The tales of a ghost ship seemed a magnitude truer as it came into view; the vessel's sails were tattered and its hull was punctured in several places. The same blue light that had plundered her ship seemed to coat this boat's entirety, making it hard to identify the hull's shape; let alone any identifiable markings. What little Blaze could see was jagged and broken; it seemed that little more than the glow and great clumps of barnacles were holding the ship together. Rationally, logically, it shouldn't have been able to float, let alone sail.

But, beyond the state of the ship, something far more confusing caught her eye. Despite its state, beneath the rot and the damage, this ship was so very familiar to her. The sail bore the royal crest, despite the state the sails; Blaze could make out seven emeralds emblazoned upon them. The ship's figurehead was familiar too, a crowned feline with a single outstretched arm (now merely a stump), and even the ship's scale was so very familiar to Blaze. It was damaged, almost beyond the point of recognition, but this ship was so very similar to the one she'd just left. Her ship, her family's ship, the one of a kind ship that'd been constructed almost one hundred years ago; The Sunflower. Whatever trick these thieves were playing, it was getting stranger by the moment.

This bizarreness was compounded as Blaze watched the first of her weapons approach the desk, a swarm of ten or fifteen cutlasses. Before they could make contact with the deck, Blaze watched as the wood panelling cracked and buckled upward to create a wide crevice. The swords flew in without hesitation; over the hum of glowing energy Blaze manage to hear them clatter against something. As more and more equipment vanished into the hole, it became apparent Blaze's cannon would soon do the same. From her position atop the barrel she was free to look down, the hull was half-full with shining objects; among the swords and flintlocks were copper trinkets, necklaces and coinage.

Before the deck could engulf her, only half expecting it'd bear her brunt, Blaze leapt from the canon; landing on the deck, a few metres from the opening. The wood, held in place by that blue light, was secure to stand on; it didn't even creak beneath her. A cursory glance to her surroundings gleamed little more than what she'd already noticed. This ship, despite how damaged it looked, was a mirror of her own. Eventually the last of her ship's weapons vanished into the hull and, like the doors to a cellar, the frayed wooden boards returned to their prior position; the deck had mended itself. Now alone on this supposed ghost ship, Blaze couldn't deny there was an eeriness in the air. The sooner she got to the bottom of this, the sooner she found whoever had made that demand, the better.

As she started to walk, the princess realised she wasn't actually stepping on the deck. The touch of her heel against the floor made a bizarre sparking noise and, despite the boards being uneven and broken, it was as though she was stepping on solid, flat, concrete. The light was creating some kind of barrier between her and the ship, preventing her from touching the decrepit wood beneath. Alike her own when it entered the fog, this ship refused to rock with the tide too; hanging in place, unaffected by the waves. Further adding to the eeriness, the deck was lifeless. Not a single crewmember was present and, search as she might, Blaze could find no signs of daily life. There was no mess; no bags left unattended and no sign of sailors' tools (no spyglasses, no ropes and, most astonishingly, no weapons). Beneath the cyan barrier, the deck looked filthy; no fewer than ten generations of barnacles and limpets lined the hull.

Her denial had started to waver; these supernatural sights were growing too great in number. Loot had flown through the air, this ship was floating despite being decrepit and it seemed to sail without a crew. There was no natural explanation for this; it was either the work of some miraculous gadgetry or the rumours were-

After biting her tongue Blaze screamed out. "What need does a ghost have of weapons and gold? You are no spirit; you are a pirate merely masquerading as the dead to avoid punishment! Show yourself!"

It was not fear but outrage driving her shouts; this farcical ship went against all she had learned. Her family were cursed, powerful yes but feared for their power. Supernatural fire was no plaything, born without a spark or match-strike it was a deadly tool easily mishandled. Regardless of how this power was achieved, its wielder was abusing what she'd been forced to hide. The strong were meant to act sparingly, do what had to be done and no more. If there was a supernatural presence piloting this ship, they were using such power to satiate their greed. It was a misuse of power, a misuse so flagrant it brought Blaze's blood to boil.

"If you will not show yourself willingly, I will force you out!" She drew her swords, igniting the right blade's tip. "Failure to heed my words will result in the immolation of your ship, its plunder included!"

Regardless of who manned this ship, they failed to heed her final warning. With the flick of her wrist, the fire leapt from her blade to the floor, sizzling away at the cyan aura before setting the wood itself alight. Despite her training, she felt her fingers clench around her swords' hilts as she waited for a reaction.

She didn't have to wait for long; her ears flickered as the wood began to buckle behind her. Without hesitation she threw herself forward, leaping toward the mast and turning to face what she anticipated to be a gnashing maw of wood. Instead, the hole remained small; just big enough for her to fall through. Unsettling silence continued to rule, a glance to the deck found her flames were spreading very slowly. The coating on the wood was impeding their propagation.

Her eyes raced back to the hole only to find it sealed, hovering roughly a foot from the deck was a form shrouded in brown burlap. Chains hung from their wrists and the bottom of their tattered cloak, their face was obscured by the shadow of their hood and cyan light flared from a pair of billowing sleeves. This figure had all the trappings of a ghost; there was no denying that.

The whole ship seemed to shake as they spoke, the surrounding light flared wildly. "You chose plunder and thus your ship was plundered. Leave this ship with a lesson learned, provide me with a gift and your vessel will go untouched. Share this lesson, lest others share your fate."

The feline pointed her swords at this so-called ghost. "You have stolen from my people just as you have stolen from me, those goods are not yours to keep! You have committed piracy and will be sentenced as a pirate, continued resistance will worsen your charge."

The figure seemed to take pause at her resistance. Though their head was obscured and their clothes were billowy, their body language spoke volumes to Blaze. They were floating no higher than a foot from the ground. This being was looking down on her, just as it had talked down to her, and acting as though she was at fault. Acting as though her intrusion on this ship, a ship modelled after her own, was more boorish than his continuous theft.

"If you will not leave willingly, you will be forced to leave," As if to emphasise their point, the figure closed their right fist. Out of the corner of her eye, Blaze watched as ghostly aura smothered her burgeoning flame. "This is your final warning."

"And I have warned you, several times; surrender or I will show you no mercy!" The princess growled back, grip further tightening on her blade's hilts. "You will not hear me submit!"

Again, the figure fell silent. Blaze swore that, beneath his heavy robes, she saw a set of yellow eyes blink and dart around. They weren't attacking her, not yet at least, but they certainly weren't surrendering. The so-called ghost hung there, hands flaring with a light brighter than that on the ship. The longer they hung, stationary in the air, the angrier Blaze found herself growing. It was all so stereotypical; the light, the robes, the chains and even the obscured face. Though she couldn't explain her surroundings, not rationally at least, she half believed the form to be some kind of marionette; a puppet being manipulated by crafty pirates. She didn't dare break her gaze from them but she knew that the crow's nest was overhead, the angle was strange but it didn't seem impossible.

Regardless of what they were, Blaze was at her wit's end. If they would not surrender by choice then there was no alternative. With a hiss behind her breath, Blaze gave up negotiating. "So be it, I'll take you in by force."

The princess began her approach, swords unlit but raised to strike. The puppet shifted slightly in the air, backing away from her. Knowing it'd be a mistake to let him flee, let alone strike first, the feline pounced with both blades drawn over her shoulders. Her attack was successful, her blunted swords had smashed against his shoulder, but it was as though she'd struck stone rather than flesh. Cyan sparks flew from the point of impact as their form was sent careening towards the deck, Blaze thought she'd secured a clean hit but the ground reacted; swallowing them whole and resealing before she could even land.

Alone on the deck again, Blaze tried to corral her frustration. Taking her right blade, Blaze swung it where the hole had formed. Her weapon caught no strings and a glance to the crow's nest revealed no opponents, the robed figured wasn't a puppet.

It wasn't long before the silence was broken; the sound of splintering wood filled her ears. She spun on her heel only to find the figure hadn't remerged. Five planks had sprung from the deck and were rocketing toward her. She managed to knock the first two away but the third shifted mid-flight, it came at her long ways and struck her in the gut but the initial impact wasn't the problem. The plank kept moving, its considerable speed was pushing her back and keeping her feet from the ground; it was attempting to throw her from the ship!

A snarl slipped her throat; flames exploded from her back and quickly chased along her arms. Orange sparks spat and fought with cyan, crackling and exploding before one gave way; her flames ignited the wood. Her heels found the ground, the beam crumbled into ash as the fire consumed both it and the cyan light that held it together.

Before she could understand what she'd done, the remaining two boards were racing toward her; crossed over each other in to create an X. Without so much as a thought, Blaze thrust her right sword forward; her curse rushed across her body and from the weapon's end, flying toward the cross as a bolt of red flame.

The contact was bright and explosive. As she squinted to see, Blaze had prepared her offhand to strike away whatever remained but when the light cleared, only dust and splinters reached her. The wood had been liberated from the cyan hue and either crumbled or burned, too dilapidated to maintain its form.

Again, before she could consider what she'd done, Blaze heard the whir of electric wind and the buckling of wood. Regaining her bearings, she found herself on the starboard bow; only a few metres from the deck's edge. Unable to locate the crackling's source (nor the figure), Blaze started to stalk across the deck; heading towards the mast. She attempted to move quietly, assuming if that person was relying on sound rather than sight, and prepared to ignite at the first sign of movement.

She managed twelve paces before the wood creaked beneath her. Blaze ignited, casting her amber gaze across the deck, but she still couldn't sight her opponent. She quickly shifted the fire to her weapons; cloaking them in orange heat, before taking another, hesitant, step forward. The ship was still wrapped in cyan light, nothing had changed, but she knew her opponent was out there. It was time for a shift, it was time to swap from defence to offence.

Blaze swung her weapons forward and the fire flew from them again, two burning bolts raced from the metal and detonated upon contact with the ship's sail. The thin material was a far better conductor of flame; the fabric began to rapidly ignite. Almost immediately she heard the deck stir but again, glancing to her surroundings, she couldn't locate the figure. By the time her gaze returned to the sail the fire had been extinguished but a large black hole had formed near its centre; her crest had been removed.

Flames were just beginning to engulf her blades when she heard the loudest shifting of wood yet, a cacophonous splintering that was easy to locate. She looked at the peak of the mast and saw the hooded figure, but she didn't have time to focus on them.

The crow's nest had been torn off and broken into pieces, a hail of glowing wood was tumbling towards the deck. There was no time to move, the mass was too great and spread too widely! She engulfed her blades and dug in her heels, bracing for impact rather than even attempting to flee. As rubble came down she slashed with all her might, batting away and atomising a good portion. But the wood came in waves, by the time she'd deflected one the second was upon her. Rubble struck her from all angles, glancing off her shoulders and back. It hurt less than she'd anticipated, the rot had lightened the wood, but the damage wasn't insignificant; the figure's psychic grasp was reinforcing the wood.

As she attempted to rise from her buckled position, Blaze felt her swords slip free from her grasp and clatter across the ground. The electric humming had grown louder again, chains were dangling at the edge of her vision. Despite losing her weapons, Blaze attempted to pounce only for a bizarre feeling to engulf her midsection. Then it spread to her legs, then it spread to her upper body and, before she could react, the guardian was entirely engulfed. Cyan light had fully surrounded her; she couldn't move and she couldn't see but she could breathe.

Surrounded by the light, having watched the figure conjure it, she could no longer act as though it was a natural phenomenon. It didn't feel like she was being crushed, the hold itself was painless, but Blaze knew how dire her position was. This was a power like hers; this was a curse. At best; she was going to be flung back to her ship, at worst; she'd been taken hostage. But, just as she believed hope was fading, a thought dawned upon her.

"I gave you warnings, I asked you to leave. Don't make me force you, I don't want to hurt you." The light obscured their form, but Blaze could make out their outline. The figure was so close. "Remain still and I will return you to your ship, unharmed. Resist and I'll be forced to fight, I don't want to fight you!"

But Blaze wasn't listening to the figure's further ultimatums; she'd come up with a plan. She was preparing to strike. The feline was pooling heat near the small of her back. The cyan light could muffle her flames but, equally, her flames could burn away the light. There was air in here; if she could breathe then she could burn. Whatever this ghostly power was, Blaze knew she could fight it. It meant relying on the power she hated, but it was the only way.

The flames exploded from her back and ignited the light surrounding her, it spat and exploded as her own orange flames came to engulf her entire body. Soon she was totally free from their psychic grasp, she landed on her feet. Looking up at the figure, she caught sight of their face in the light of her flames. He had yellow eyes and, by the state of his muzzle, he was incredibly gaunt; beyond that, she couldn't make out much.

His ghastly light would mute her burning and, as long as she kept control, she wouldn't end up scaring him. This was an opponent she could fight fairly, an opponent she could fight without holding back. Leaping from the deck, Blaze ignited her fists. She didn't speak, she hardly even thought, for this was the time to strike. She lunged up at him, her flames battered against his cyan hue, but this time Blaze struck true; she felt her knuckle contact his chest. The floating man doubled over at that contact, their body was pulled upward and beyond her reach, but that fine. Blaze had hit him once; she knew she could hit him again.

The figure thrust his right hand towards her and, for a moment, Blaze felt the light's pressure on her shoulders. She reignited without hesitation, rending the light from her body and showing him that his method wouldn't work. He had three choices; tear apart this ship fighting her, fight her on his own or give up fighting.

Light flared around her, the debris from the crow's nest began to hover. He'd chosen option one.

Blaze immolated herself, she allowed fire to fully engulf her body and obscure her vision. Her curse's cracking filled her ears, overwhelming the psychic hum. She felt the wood touch her body but the impact was reduced further still, the rotten wood was being ignited and disintegrated before it could even touch her. When the impacts finally ceased and she subdued her flames enough to see, Blaze was alone on the deck. She scanned the sky, he'd vanished again but she knew how to draw him out.

Channelling the fire that garbed her, Blaze formed a fireball more than a foot in diameter. She launched the orb towards the mast but, as it made contact, the fireball detonated and spread; smaller fires split off to surround the smoking central pillar. She watched the inferno swell and spread, slowly creeping across the deck and leaving gashes in its wake. The ship had already been in poor condition, incapable of sailing was it not for the energy engulfing it, but their battle had more thoroughly destroyed it. Psychic energy had glazed over the holes and perhaps made them safe to walk over, but the ship was twice the wreck it'd once been.

The deck creaked, her flames were snuffed and Blaze sighted the so-called ghost in the corner of her vision. She spun and threw an open fist, a smaller fireball shot free of her palm and exploded against his glowing body. "If you don't want to fight, then surrender!"

The figure was sent tumbling backwards, only managing to stabilise himself by dragging his feet along the ground. Blaze bolted after him; not only had he landed, the light had faded from his form! Only his hands were glowing! Blaze pounced at her opportunity, tackling him to the deck and pushing her hands against his collarbone. She'd won! The pirate was within her grasp!

His hood fell as she pinned him, revealing a tangled mess of overgrown quills. Amber eyes met bright yellow before they scanned the rest of his face. Bones were visible through his skin and, were it not for his panting, she would half-believe that he was a corpse. Black bags hung beneath his eyes, as though he'd gone weeks without sleep, and she saw neither resistance nor fear in his eyes. Instead, she couldn't help thinking that he looked regretful.

The moment Blaze caught her breath; she began the interrogation. "Speak your name."

Those eyes shut tight; she felt him tense once more before again flopping loosely in her grasp, seeming to concede to her. She knew better than to trust him though. "M-My name is Silver," That name matched no pirate she knew; his appearance was entirely alien to her too.

"Do you know my name?" She rhetorically asked. "Do you understand the weight of your crimes?"

"I-I understand what I've done but... I know you are a royal, I-I just don't know which one," He bafflingly admitted. "What year is it?"

Her brow hardened further, her pulse was pounding and adrenaline was racing through her. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"I don't, I'm telling you the truth!" Blaze leant on him a little harder, even if he looked near death he clearly had the strength to shout. In response, he quietened down but his stutter returned. "I know th-that seems stupid but I really don't know! I know this is the sea of Sol, I know we're the 'Merchant's Tunnel' and your ship is called The Sunflower, its been part of your family for generations, but I really don't know what year it is and I'm not sure who you are."

Maintaining her tight grip, Blaze posed an alternate question, "If you profess not to know my name yet know my lineage then answer me this; who do you think I am?"

"Maybe Percival the Eleventh…?" He answered, before quickly hazarding another guess. "Although, judging by your canons, you might be the Twelfth…?"

Confusion, aided by curiosity, forcibly undercut her ferocity. He looked no older than her, despite his tired and sickly state, and yet he had mistaken her for her elder relatives. She felt her adrenaline begin to abate. "Percival was my grandmother's name and my mother's name but it is not mine."

"W-Wait, y-you're Blaze?" He hadn't called her your majesty, everyone referred to her by royal titles yet he had failed to both upon first addressing her and now; having identified her. Against her better judgement, her grip on his burlap slacked. "If you're Blaze then it's almost too late! I-I thought I was at least half a century earlier!"

Feeling him begin to panic, slipping loose of her grasp, Blaze quickly realised her folly. She pressed further down on him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the entirety of her thin frame pushed to pin him. "I said not to move!"

Pain broke across his brow, his eyes shut again. "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I-I-I…" He froze up, a brief silence followed his stutter. When he reopened his eyes the beginnings of tears had formed. "There's a lot I can tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me."

Blaze felt something in her chest (some hint of compassion perhaps) but, being her royal self, she knew to quash it. She distracted herself by further taking in his person, difficult as that was at such close proximity. The longer she stared the thinner and more ragged he appeared; she'd never seen anyone quite like him. Few citizens lived poorly in her kingdom, fewer still that she saw first hand, but he bordered on being malnourished. Hedgehogs were rare in the kingdom too, but the layout of his quills was simply bizarre and perhaps a result his overgrowth. His physical body was intriguing but not as intriguing as his curse. Though the light had weakened around the ship it still brightly flickered from his palms. Upon closer inspection, seeing how the light refracted through his mucky gloves, she determined those circular marks dyed his flesh rather than his gloves or fur. Somehow, a curse had affixed itself to him.

She waited a few moments longer before resuming, allowing them both some respite. "Where did you steal this power from?" She noticed her voice was sapped of its commanding venom. "Abilities like ours aren't meant for mortals, what foolish occult pact did you make?"

"M-My blessing? I've always had it," Silver claimed. "I've been psychic for as long as I can remember, I-I guess I just got lucky, like you did?"

"Like I di-

She hadn't dared to think of her curse as a blessing, let alone say it. No one ever had, not even Gardon. While in some ways his words made sense, her power kept her kingdom protected, but fear of it separated her from the masses. Still, though her brow furrowed further, that feeling in her chest grew, glowing kindling of compassion. At the very least, he wasn't all bad. This hedgehog hadn't tried to kill her despite resisting, he hadn't fought until she'd attacked him and he'd submitted after she'd defeated him. He seemed to be under some kind of delusion rather than being intentionally malicious. All of a sudden, her grip on him felt a lot looser. Try as she might to smother it, that kindling of compassion was growing brighter. As far as she knew, he hadn't claimed a single life; he hadn't even harmed a single seaman.

A sigh slid passed her lips. "I'm going to let go, you can sit up but do not move from that spot." Quickly deciding she was being too limp-wristed with him she quickly snapped. "I-If you do, my generous demeanour will quickly sour. You'll be back on the deck before you can blink."

His expression softened, as she slid off of the hedgehog he slowly rose to sit beside her; gangly legs poking free of his wrappings and revealing a second set of cuffs. Thin as he was, the hedgehog was almost a head taller than her. "Um… thank you, Blaze."

Neither the terms your majesty nor your highness passed his lips, just Blaze. Again, compassion bubbled in her gut; she felt a strange heat on her face. Being unable to look away, certain he'd capitalise on her weakness, propagated that warmth. She continued the interrogation in hopes of quashing this feeling. "Explain yourself! Why are you out here, why are you stealing from my vessels?"

"W-Well, I don't expect you to believe me but I didn't simply sail out here; at least, I didn't sail out here as you did," He started to explain. "I don't quite understand it myself, but I used this ship to cross a sea of time. I came here from the future."

Before she could even respond, he flinched slightly and his face crumpled. The hedgehog clearly wasn't expecting to be believed and, in truth, he had reason to think that. His claim was ludicrous, but then today had been a ludicrous day. She'd set out expecting to disprove a ghost tale only to find herself face to face with a cursed boy on a decrepit version of her own flagship. At this point, he could say he was an alien and she might have believed him.

A sigh, not far from a grumble, slipped past her lips. "Continue."

"Y-Your kingdom is going to fall. It's going to overtaken by a shadowy puppet-master and his pet monster. They'll shackle your people and work them, to death destroy all who disobey their will." The hedgehog continued to explain. "That's why I'm here, that's why I'm stealing from the past. I'm gathering all I can to rise up against them, give us a fighting chance. I figured that if I stole things from now, he wouldn't have them to use against us then," He quickly listed the types of items he'd stolen. "Weapons, trinkets and valuables; anything that can be used to fight, anything that can be melted down to make weapons and anything we can use for barter."

"That is difficult to believe." Blaze informed him, the strangeness of his tale offsetting her embarrassment. "Though, perhaps, not impossible; if you can provide further explanation. You say you crossed a sea of time to get here, how exactly did you do that?"

"I-I can show you," He offered, before quickly catching himself. "If you'll let me?"

She extended a hand to him, both offering to help him up but setting a rule. "You may stand as long as I hold you. If I release you, then you are to sit. If you flee then you will be made to sit."

Blaze watched a small smile line his lips, she felt his weak grasp and heard the waver return to his voice. "I-I'm not sure I could even stand without you holding me. It's taking all I have left to keep us from sinking…"

This proved true, as she tugged him to his feet he wobbled before stumbling into her. He unleashed an avalanche of apologies like they'd been building up over years but she was too focused on suppressing her blush to care. Her position meant physical contact was a rarity; she'd touched this time travelling pirate more than anyone in recent memory. Not only that but she'd offered her hand to him, pinned him to the deck and now slung his arm around her shoulder. She was initiating this far more than he was.

With his free hand, he pointed her toward the back of the ship, offering what little movement his limp legs would allow. She'd noticed it before, but he really was frail. Admittedly, Blaze hadn't had to hoist someone along like this before but she reckoned that Gardon, who was two-thirds of Silver's height, likely weighed more than him. As she brought her free arm around his waist her fingers struggled to find his form beneath burlap and matted fur. When she did find his side, providing additional support to aid his walking, she felt ribs through his skin. It was the same thinness, the same starvation evident in his pale muzzle. The majority of his weight seemed to be made up of the cuffs binding his extremities, rather than his body. The remains of a broken chain, hanging from both of his wrists, raised both questions and concerns. No wonder his feet were dragging, no wonder he'd flown everywhere, the set on his ankles were even thicker. The hedgehog hadn't flown to condescend her; he flew because he was in pain.

Just as she recalled his mention of her people in chains, the hedgehog began to speak again. He must have followed her gaze. "We're all bound, but those with strength are given stronger bonds. I managed to break the chains myself but I could never get the wrist parts off," As if to emphasise, he gave his wrist a little shake. "I acted as though my power was weak, I hoped if I did they'd leave me alone, but they just pushed me until I showed them more."

"What did they make you do?" Blaze dared to enquire.

"Build, dig…" He began to explain. "They tried to get me to do a lot of things, but I only really did those two. When all seemed lost you brought down the castle, so there was plenty for me to excavate. I-I tried to do it slowly…"

There was pain in the last of his words; Blaze cursed herself for softening further. "While I am glad I made some form of final stand and loosed one last act of defiance." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She was talking as though she believed him. Well, she did believe him; whether she liked it or not. "You shouldn't have drawn their ire trying to maintain my final effort."

Silver shook his head. "There were a lot of things they wanted in the palace, I never quite understood what or why though. They talked a lot about jewels and emeralds, saying they'd help secure world dominance. I never found any but they were always talking about emeralds, always promising they'd set me free if I found one. I never did but, if I ever did, I'd probably have buried it even deeper."

The mention of emeralds caught more than its share of Blaze's attention and she was about to enquire more when she ears caught the wheeze on his breath, she halted at the cyan light surrounding the ship flickered but quickly returned. The fight had taken most of his stamina but there was a reason that reserve was so low. Not only was he malnourished; he was clearly sick.

"You stole so why not steal food too? Weapons and gold are far more valuable, I assume you'd have no qualms with doing that?" Blaze questioned.

"I-I have from time to time, bits of hardtack and cheese, but," Silver grimaced. "I don't like doing this, I only wanted to steal what I had to. Only what could help those in the future. I wasn't stealing to make myself comfortable, if I stole food it'd go rotten. There's nowhere to keep it on this boat."

There was a difference between being comfortable and healthy but, clearly, this Silver hadn't considered that. Blaze felt another wave of compassion surge through her, she could relate to him in a way she hadn't really related to anyone. He'd taken on this duty without hesitation and fully committed himself to it, working himself to death was stupid, of course, but it was certainly endearing.

Before she could ask more questions, they'd arrived at the ship's cabin.

With the wave of his hand, the door opened. The inside was stripped bare, the inner walls untouched by cyan light, save for a small object near the centre of the room. It looked to be a stone, roughly hexagonal in shape and an inch or two larger than her palm. With a point, a cyan bubble surrounded the rock and brought it up to hover before them.

"I know it doesn't look like much now but when I found it there was a strange light, almost like fire." He reminisced, wheeze hanging on every word. "I figured that meant it was important so I hid it from them, took it with me wherever I went in case they found it. When they had me lift up your ship the stone kind of reacted, the light surrounded both me and boat. We vanished into this weird blue and yellow swirl for a while? I don't know how to really describe it… but we reappeared on an island in the middle of nowhere. Ships passed on their routes and I recognised their symbols from other wrecks I'd pulled up. It took me a while but I eventually pieced it all together."

Blaze plucked the stone from his aura and immediately felt a bizarre sense of familiarity. Its shape was similar to a set of emeralds she knew and Silver's tale lined up with stories she'd heard; the colouration and texture were wrong though. Drawing the claw of her right thumb, she scratched along its black surface. Black, rock-like, dust was freed by her scraping. She had brought down the castle, or so Silver had said, but perhaps that wasn't all she'd done.

"Close your eyes Silver, I'm going to try something."

Once he complied, she set the hand wielding the emerald alight; engulfing the stone in bright orange flames. The response was immediate; what looked to be tar or rock of some nature, was quickly melted away to reveal a vibrant purple beneath. Her assumption had been confirmed confirmed; as the filth was purged a reliquary was revealed. The sight filled her with equal measures of awe and dread.

"Silver, you did find one of the emeralds," She revealed, indicating that he should reopen his eyes. "But this goes against so much of what I know. The emeralds are inert, fables surround them but they've been sealed away for hundreds of years. There has been no reason to call upon them, no cause great enough to draw them out."

"But that means no one has checked on them, right? Maybe something changed and they've started working again?" He questioned.

"The Sol Emeralds only have power during times of crisis. They are a collection of seven reliquaries, capable of performing extraordinary feats of magic. They last showed their power during Percival the First's rule. When her parents were assassinated and she was left to rule alone, a child of only seven years, they aided in her protection; losing their power as she herself grew more powerful," Blaze exposited before turning back to him. "Do you understand what this is? What this means?"

"Not really, you said a lot of really big words, I-I... I really don't know what a reliquary is," He seemed to perk up a little though, a small smile forming as he pointed toward the stone. "That's a Sol emerald though and it's important, right? I got that much. They work in times of crisis and the kingdom being in ruin must have counted as one of those times?"

"You've understood the essentials, this more than proves your story to be true," She briskly walked him from the cabin and back onto the deck, the gravity of the situation still impacting her. "We must depart for my ship and make haste toward the palace."

"Y-You might be able to depart, I can't," Silver's denial forced her to take pause. "I mean, what about the plunder? If I leave this ship, everything will sink to the bottom of the ocean. Some of it might survive but the gunpowder won't and things will start rusting," He described. "And what about everyone in the future, without that stone, I can't get back to them!"

"You told me that my kingdom will fall; that my people will suffer and the skeleton of my castle will be defiled by a tyrant, lusting for weapons of war. I will not let that happen. It is my duty, both as princess and guardian, to protect my people." Blaze thoroughly explained, not daring to waste a word. "I will put your information to good use and prevent this disaster, be it through the defence of my kingdom or caging this puppeteer and slaying his monster. But, with you by my side, I think we can undo this tragedy rather than heal it in post." She continued, throwing him a glance. "You have stolen much from me over these past months but the righteousness of your cause has swayed me."

"Swayed you?" Silver's head tilted, confusion spread across his brow. "What do you mean?"

"You will not be taken to the gallows, instead…" Blaze hesitated. She was dealing with a crisis but, simultaneously, dealing with a person the likes of which she never had before. One who called her by her name and thought her curse was a blessing. Her mind and heart were at war. "Instead you will stay with me, no matter how long this campaign lasts; I want you by my side," Clearly oblivious, he blinked at her. Blaze couldn't maintain her stare; she finally tore her gaze from his gangly frame. "Y-You're so naïve, must I be blunt with you?"

"I think I would appreciate it?" He gulped, very much unfazed by their situation.

"This is most unorthodox, I-I wish to take you…" She scrambled for the right words. "A-As a companion," That term was close, but not quite what she meant. "A partner of sorts, t-to aid me in preventing this travesty. You have acted to protect my people, so I will protect you from the stockade."

"You mean like friends?" He bluntly inquired, "I've not really had many friends, but they're supposed to help each other; aren't they? So if you want to help me and I want to help you…"

Friendship had no place in a princes' life, she'd specifically worded her proposal to avoid that term, but having met the hedgehog's bright yellow eyes; Blaze couldn't refute his offer. "If that is how you'd prefer to word it, yes."

"I think I'd like that a lot," A smile managed to break across his muzzle. "I haven't really had any friends, just people I've met and been separated from. To think my first would be someone so incredible, it's amazing!"

Feeling that heat on her face again, Blaze tried to press on and ignore his embarrassing words. "Are you strong enough for one return trip, to lift me to my ship then pull me back? I need to announce our plan to my crew."

"I-I don't think so, not while keeping The Sunflower afloat," Silver admitted, the weakened glow of his hands acting as proof. "I could sail closer to your ship though? Get you within leaping distance, or shouting distance at the very least?"

The feline allowed herself a small smile. "That will do nicely, thank you."

Blaze felt him shift slightly, the wind began to catch her fur and she heard the ship groan as it began to glide across the water. Soon the fog obscured her vision and the sound of Gardon panicking found her ears, loudening with each passing second. The old man was clearly panicking, he'd be glad to see her in one piece but before that, Blaze gave her new friend another glance. Though Silver claimed he could do this much, even through the fog, Blaze could see that his eyes were clenched shut and his hands were balled. She'd have to stay here with him, prepared to grab him and leap if his power ran out.

Regardless, before he fell, she wanted to say some final words to him. "Silver?"

"Y-Y-Yes?" He was clearly struggling to talk, overwhelmed by psychic strain.

"I'll do all I can to make this right," She promised, hoisting him a little higher and thus bearing more of his weight. "Your efforts won't be for nought, I will defend my kingdom."

"I-I'm far from done Blaze," Tired as he was, steely determination returned to his voice. His tone wasn't dissimilar to when he'd made his demands. "We'll make this right, together," The feline tightened her grip on him.

She'd found an ally, one she already trusted unlike any she'd made prior, but the guardian doubted her care alone would shield him. His power would prove useful, his knowledge and kindness would too, but the curse affixed to his hands would draw prying eyes and dangerous parties. Rumours would swirl like a maelstrom, engulfing both her and the hedgehog. Blaze knew she would have to hide him from her own people; if they'd fear her for embracing her powers then they'd surely fear his blessing.

This wasn't going to be easy, sneaking him into the castle would be difficult (let alone keeping him safe and hidden there), but Blaze was determined to help her new companion. As the ghost-ship drew closer to its past counterpart, the many mysteries this venture had uncovered started to nag at the princess. Who was this puppet master and where had they come from, how had they overwhelmed the entirety of her armada and when would they strike? Were her people in danger now or did they have a few more years to prepare? Only one thing was certain, the moment her feet touched the shore she would start preparing. Her words couldn't be mere consolation, Silver's efforts wouldn't be for nought; they were going to make this right.

[whirlybirdwhat]

Sea of Monsters- Chapter 6

Shanks and his crew’s first venture into the East Blue!

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and authors notes! Gen, creepy, featuring all of the Straw Hats, multi-chapter story.

“The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few… unique traits.”

--------

Vacation - Red Hair Pirates

When Shanks tells his crew that they’re taking a vacation they cheer.

When he tells them where, they quickly beg to work more or go elsewhere - for the East Blue is a terrifying place and each and everyone one of them has heard the legends.

(The crown of fire above Rogers head as he died, the way his strength was inhuman and his soul demonic, the way his grin would have far too many teeth and his limbs would twitch in odd ways - as if they were not in the shape they should have been.

Only their Captain had sailed with the man, but his own tales were even scarier than the rumors told.)

Shanks is as stubborn as they come however, and eventually they head towards the East Blue, feeling the Veil shift over their eyes as they cross its dark threshold, thickening and thinning in odd places.

They all pray in thanks to the Sea (But not this sea - no, only those who wish for a painful end pray to the East) that their Captain’s haki is strong enough to cut through the Veil so that they can avoid the darkness of this place.

(In the Grand Line and the other Blues, the Veil, something utterly supernatural, saves you –  it hides the notion of far more deadlier things, so that children and adults alike can sleep without knowing of the wicked fangs that hide in shadows or the dark depths of the night, without knowing the true nature of men like Dragon or Garp or Roger.

In the East Blue however, those dark depths are more potent, and the Veil is less like a door shutting away the monster outside and more like a covering over a trap, misleading you until you fall and are pierced on jagged spears.

It is unpleasant to say the least.)

They island hop for a week, the crew, despite their captain’s urgings, too uneasy to settle.

But then they happen upon the little island called Dawn Island, where the water is crystal clear and the sun is shining...

And where a little boy, with dark soulless eyes and a feral, blood thirsty grin (with suspicious red stains on his sharp teeth) paired with a body with far too many joints, is there to welcome them to the docks, speaking rapidly about pirates and adventures and grandpas.

Shanks had been the first to step forward, and the boy had quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him away.

The crew, scared for their captain, had followed.

And there they met her,squatting down to talk to the boy on his level, reluctant as he was to let go of Shank’s hand (even though his claws left little beads of blood on the elder’s hand) with a long slender tail trailing behind her.  Shanks claimed she was a goddess in mortal flesh – his crew, though originally thinking her to be a sea witch of the darkest places, quickly came to agree.

Makino, despite the scales gently spotting her cheeks and floating, fading quality to her hair, was perhaps the most brilliant, kindest person the crew had ever laid eyes on.

And she had raised Luffy.

You had to respect anyone who was able to patiently deal with a bundle of energy that viewed people as an acceptable snack, and tended to bite those he thought looked particularly tasty.

[akelyokikagu]

The Witch and The Priest - Chapter 2

A bad day starts when China had eaten everything

The city was bustling with heaps of humans pacing quickly as if every second meant something. But perhaps, because she didn’t fear death like humans would, every second did mean something in the meager time they were allowed to live and experience. Kagura admired the charming houses, their wooden structure filled with beautiful colored walls. The buildings all stuck together and aligned into a labyrinth where Kagura could see, at its end, a castle of blue.“It changed a lot,” she said to Okita. She had bugged him for weeks to visit the city, and he finally ceded to restock the food for the month faster than expected as the female inhaled most of it during her ‘afternoon snacks’. “You came here before?”

“Uh-uh, but only the castle didn’t change. Before it was dirty and dull, and lot of things destroyed because of the war.” Kagura tugged on her hood, making sure her red hair was not to be seen- or else people just might believe she was some banshee of some sort. Humans hated hair color like hers. “It was when I was only a hundred years old though.”

“… How old are you?” They never really introduced themselves, and Kagura just integrated Okita’s life naturally. He assumed she was around fourteen, “Are you an old hag?”

“Three hundred years old is hardly considered as old.” Kagura frowned, “I bet you aren’t good at courting. Women hate being reminded of their age, young or old alike.”

“As if a man ever courted you.” They retorted to each other on their way, strolling lazily towards the south-east of the city where artisans, crafters could be found. “Let's get what you need first, but tell me, do you think a mix of nettle and poison would go well to kill Hijikata?”

“Poor man. I'm a good witch, not going to help you and your devious plan.” Kagura stared at a store offering gemstones. It immediately caught Kagura’s eyes because of how unkempt it looked, and so was the name. “Abi’s Gems,” she read aloud, “Let’s go in. We might find something for your sister.”

Witches and sorcerers loved gemstones for their innate properties. The common people would use salt pink stones to fight against insomnia, but gemstones could be used to their full potential through magic. Protection spell, curses, restriction, and amplification… There were thousands of possibilities, and any good artifacts should possess a strong gem.

They entered the store with a ring as the bell danced, but no one seemed to be inside. Rather, it looked like a ghost store who's been abandoned by its owner since months and dust had accumulated to the point of inducing cough upon entering. The shelves were messy and dirty, and the carpets late of two generations of fashionable taste yet Kagura immediately plunged further into the room, observing the rows of gems.

Unlike the shop, each gem was obviously polished and cleaned, glittering preciously. Since the olden times had Kagura encountered charlatans who liked to trick apprentices into buying fake gems but she knew those were genuine. They radiated of power. Her fingers wrapped around a green marbled blue gem as if it was sea itself, she closed her eyes and asserted the hardness— only hard gems were good, too soft and the stones were unstable added with magic. But this one was good for its kind, chrysocolla since healing and protection charms didn’t need diamonds or the hardest kind of stones.

Okita made her break out of her thought, “How do you use one?” He asked as he grabbed a ruby, “Can you cast a hex on them?”

“There’s a lot to do when you want to make strong charms, artifacts even more. You need to work the stone first, work its essence then work the magic." Kagura slipped further into the store, into a hallway behind the counter. Okita followed suit without thinking much; it was impolite but what kind of owners would let their business like so?

“You didn’t answer all of my questions, though.”

“You can cast hex and curses, that’s why there are cursed jewelry or weapons. They are full of dark and hate, you can hardly purify them. Especially weapons, because some like to work the gems but also the iron if you see one don’t touch it. Don’t try to exorcize it because it doesn’t work that way.” She knocked over a door, sturdy it was like it had been there for centuries. “Cursed weapons are like wands or scepters, but like a lot of things in destructive magic they aren’t used, they use the users.”

“Are you worried about me?” His mouth stretched into a dashing smile. Kagura was now part of his life, breakfasts and tea parties were all managed by her as well as house chores but it was the first she was interested in his job. Before Kagura could reply, the door creaked open and they discovered a new, large room filled with columns of gems and tables with the tools to make jewellery. A girl was sat on one of the tables, a magnifying glass monocle over her right eyes and her hands gently sculpting a ring.

Kagura removed her hood, a thin smile stretched on her face. "Abi's tenth generation, you are."

Tenth generation?!

The girl raised her head in surprise, she had messy chestnut hair— short, and kind of frizzy. She didn't wear fashionable women dresses but was instead in a sort of dark overall, clothes clothing every part of her. No women, at their time, could wear pants besides noble women during their horse riding lessons.

Her hazel eyes widened as she stared at Kagura. Like she was a ghost, something supernatural that went beyond human understanding. "My ancestors didn't lie," the female got up and strolled over them. "My grandparents and parents never saw you, I didn't think you'd greet first. I'm just an apprentice, my parents are on a trip, I can't offer you anything." She was obviously embarrassed, Sougo could note the way she fiddled with her hair. "I mean, you are our family's— our biggest patron. Over generations. You are her right? The Red Witch, the second."

Kagura stared at the stone in her hand, then scanned the girl. Okita almost felt uneasy for her, almost because just seconds afterward the witch had the warmest smile he had ever seen. "You're a good heiress. I know it, you look right like every one of them— the good Abi's, same hair, same eyes. “Talent runs in your vein, it's the Abi's blood. All good Abi's look alike. How are you called?"

"Alisha Abigail Hayes, but I'm called Abi in the shop, I mean you know, it's the tradition. I prefer Alisha, though.”

"I want this stone," Kagura threw the gem at her, "Alisha. You are going to be my supplier, study hard, don't disappoint the first Abigail and all that followed. If you need anything then call me, I'll hear you. Make that a pendant; a nice one, for an elegant lady.”

"It will be ready quickly, I promise. No more than a week, I'll work hard."

Kagura didn't say more and caught Okita's wrist, dragging him out of the shop. He hadn't spoken much, as opposed as his usual demeanor but it was almost fascinating. He had thought he was born special, for having an eyesight good enough to see spirits, but she was a witch. A witch that lived more than a century, in that short, childish woman.

 "Their family had been at our service, free supply in exchange for our magic," she explained.

"What kind of favors do you get them?"

"It depends on what they need, a long time ago I had healed the fourth generation Abi's husband. Or sometimes they ask for charms, protective spells during dangerous times, I'm making a healing pendant for your sister." She was talkative today. It wasn't like he discussed with her often, at most it was what would they be eating, about Mitsuba's condition, they weren't close. They weren't meant to, either.

"Why did you come to find me?" He suddenly asked. "You obviously have allies. You have the skill, even if you can't purify you should be able to escape or injure them."

"Are you insecure now? I *am* an extraordinary witch, after all." He couldn't see her face because of the hood covering most of her face, but he was sure he had heard the smile beneath. "There are beings that weave fate and they brought me to you. I don't understand it either but like the Abi's, they look a lot like the first one. Even you Sadist, you look like someone I knew.”

"Me?

"Yeah."

Silence took over again as they walked up to the main streets where they would be most likely to find cheap food. Okita was a man to appreciate gastronomy but with his limited budget he had to feed the monster of a female too. If she didn't bake so well; he may have kicked her out.

It was when Kagura was negotiating the prices for some bread that Okita felt it. A shadow. It wasn't a small sprit by the aura it had, the pressure he felt all of sudden in the bright streets. It had to be something inhuman too because it was insanely fast— most spirits and demons were slow and proud, but this one was like a wild beast.    

"Oi China, be quick and we'll go home. There was something like a demon right now," he purposely leaned in and whispered to her ear as to not be listened.  Kagura's eyes widened before quickly accepting the current price and taking the bag full of hard, traditional bread before following behind Okita. She was being hunted, this was why she avoided promenading out of Okita's property. His home was safe, but the city wasn't and it was going to be Doom if she were to be caught.  "What was it?"

"I don't know, maybe a werewolf, a brollacan, no a Cu Sith— it was like a dog, white."

"A white dog?"

"We don't have the time to talk China," he started to run. His only weapon was some sacred water and a dagger, he didn't think of bringing his sword just for a city outing. He underestimated China's enemies. A hellhound wouldn't appear normally unless there was a reason.   And that reason was China.   He grabbed her hands, she was too slow for him— wearing a long dress that got into her foot. If China died there would be no more hope for Mitsuba, he wouldn't allow it.     It was in a panic attack that Okita missed the stunned stares of three men walking in black.   "Isn't that Okita?" Yamazaki was absolutely bemused at the desperate face the young exorcist had. He usually was poke-faced, playful at most but ever since Mitsuba had fallen ill he never showed such… passion.    

"It was a woman, right? I saw long hair, and she's too small to be a man. No, Sougo told me he had gotten a servant recently," Hijikata stared at the street the couple just escaped. "By servant did he mean he had gotten a lover? A wife?"

"Our son had grown so fast Toshi!" Kondo was crying, deeply moved by the scene. "But why did he not tell us?"

"Don't tell me he's using her for his fun? He's going to ruin the woman! He didn't bring her to the Gods!"

"Our Sougo isn't like that—" Kondo paused, then wore a solemn face. "Oh no, our son sinned. He's so young and reckless, maybe was he lonely because of we didn't give him enough love Toshi! It's all our fault!"

"Enough, we should go after them quickly! We can't let Sougo ruin this poor woman."

******************************

Help to read:

Chrysocolla (gem): Hardness 2-4; strengthens lungs, enchances metabolism, emotional balance and helps clear subconcious imbalances. =Wicca

Brollacan: A creature of the night that is shapeless = Scottish faeries

Cu Sith: dog Faerie, shaggy hair and size of a calf, hunts in silence. Also known as Black angus. = English/Wales/Germany myth

[gabriel-gabdiel]

【Draft】 Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 2: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

Second chapter draft of my original work. Having no line breaks suck.

Florante walked outside the gates of Fatima School, his head in the clouds. Dark, nimbus clouds with scattered rain showers and thunderstorms followed him.

He must've blacked out earlier. What had just happened?

Everything was quiet. The whole school was a wreck. Did he get caught in a typhoon and only woke up just now to realize it, when everyone else had already evacuated?

His gut felt like it was on fire. His head, or perhaps his brain, throbbed like a second palpitating heart that beat in conjunction with his actual heart.

He hadn't the foggiest idea.

He looked at his hands. They were stained with blood.

Shit. What happened?! Was it his blood that...?

He then heard a voice say, "I found you. You naughty little devil."

The apparition of a beautiful girl with long, flowing hair and immaculate blue wings emerged from the rain and mist. He asked her, "Who are you?!"

As she stared at Florante with an unreadable expression, she whispered, "Archangel Raphael," which made him remember the comic books he drew about the four archangels.

Who was she? Why was her face familiar? She was so gorgeous.

She reminded him of Laura Reyes.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else, Flor."

Wait. She knew him?

Also, Laura. She looked like Laura! The same Laura that he had just... had just...!

Damn it.

"Prepare to die," she said.

It all came back to him in an instant.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

When dreams became nightmares.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 2: The Dream Journal of a Wimpy Kid

***

The summer before his first day at Fatima High School, Florante Galang actually read through the book, "How to Win Friends and Influence People" by Dale Carnegie after making a pariah of himself back in his old school.

His high school days were going to be much different from his lonely grade school days, when no one his age would talk to him and only people a year or two younger than him tolerated his presence.

The night before, he tried remembering the advice given to him by the book that included tip such as "Don't criticize, condemn or complain," "Give honest and sincere appreciation," and "Arouse in the other person an eager want."

He tried some of the tips on his own family, like his mother, but he must've missed a chapter or two. It didn't work. Or rather, his attempts at "Get the other person saying 'yes, yes' immediately," and "Ask questions instead of direct orders," led to yet another misunderstanding that led to him getting punished. Again.

A flying footwear to the head, to be exact. She also said something about him talking back to his parents and being disrespectful.

Or maybe he should consider the self-help book's advice less as a surefire way to manipulate his mother to say yes to her increasing his allowance and more like helpful tips to make himself more appealing to people.

If used correctly, of course.

He did his memorization and "studying" of the self-help book in his bedroom located on the east portion of their abode, with the facade and front yard of their bungalow facing north and his parents' bedroom at the southwest portion.

He used to share his room with his two older sisters but they soon moved to their own rooms as they got enough money to expand their home.

It was a familiar room that belonged to him exclusively around Grade 5 to 7. He couldn't remember. The linoleum floor, the cream walls, the gray ceiling with discolored tiled patterns on it where the beams supporting them were supposed to be, and the red curtains were all part of his childhood.

The Galangs' humble abode originally had two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and barely a garden plus a plot of undeveloped land with pebbles and other smooth stones over it.

This below sea level part of their property was then slowly filled up with land so that the whole house would rise above the street, leading the construction of a second part of the home with two more bedrooms and an extra bathroom as well as a garage for the family car.    

With the money his mother earned from their short-lived stint with selling goods through a "sari-sari" store and she got from her parents (his grandparents) on top of the ones she saved from his father's engineer work, they were able to invest in half a house and turn it into a full house, so to speak.

The most notable changes on the bedroom was how it once had two beds but now it only had one bed. The mirror still had the "Santo Niño" statue there, which he never looked at directly because it gave him the creeps. However, he would never admit it to his prayerful family.

Regardless, he attempted memorizing and taking to heart many of the lessons the book could offer him, but like any other 14-year-old boy his short attention span ended up his downfall.

He skipped, scanned, and skimmed through many of the pages of anecdotes and stories in order to find something he could use. He only really wanted the book to help him with his social anxiety and to turn a new leaf.

All of that was for naught, of course. His nightmarish bullying in grade school only got worse in high school.

One morning in Fatima High, chaos ensued. All hell broke loose.

His head in the clouds, Florante Galang "sleepwalked" into the school, his every step practically gliding through the road, swift as the gale wind, his fingertips emanating sparks and crackles of electrical might.

It was like something out of a movie.

He maneuvered through the heavy traffic jam of the road like a motorcycle delivery man in a hurry, moving through every nook and cranny with the grace of a swan and the aggressiveness of a duck. Unnoticed by the cars, vans, jeepneys, and trucks around him.

For whatever reason, he ended up with superpowers right off of a superhero comic.

It was just a dream, after all.

In this dream, anything is possible, including gaining powers like those of angels, demons, and gods, thus allowing him to wreak havoc on his most hated high school.

Instead of stopping crime or saving people, he did the exact opposite upon his discovery of his abilities. He instead committed crime and damned everyone in his path.

He idly wondered why in comics and manga, the hero with superpowers almost always ended up becoming vigilantes or supernatural policemen. It was more realistic for them to do what he was doing now, as though he'd just won the lottery and he was about to splurge on the nearest sports car or mansion.

His list of bullies remained fresh in his mind. His nightmare scenario had become their nightmare scenario. The resident timid freak, "quiet kid", and communal punching bag could now punch back.

One thing came to his mind as he approached Fatima High.

'I have been abused all my life to the point where I don't trust humans.'

Unbeknownst to the people inside the school, he'd been testing his powers elsewhere, with him appearing like some sort of cyclone or tornado as he blasted through rivers and old buildings with his newfound abilities.

He couldn't wait to test them out on actual humans. Fragile, squishy humans.

Because of how unbelievable everything was, he presumed it was all a dream. A blurry fantasy borne out of his frustration from being rejected by his classmates and seemingly the entire school campus.

He stopped mid-stride. Before him was a familiar face.

It was the face of Jennifer "Jenny" Tolentino. She was a petite, small-breasted, intelligent, talkative, and capable girl who was one of the first students to befriend Florante.

The only girl who was kind to him.

"'Sup, Flor. You're here early. Whatcha up to?" the bespectacled girl asked with an inquisitive head tilt. "You look like you're in a hurry."

Florante smiled and chuckled. Although he still hated that girly nickname his classmates gave him, he nevertheless told her, "You're an okay gal, Jenny. Don't go to school today. For your own good."

"W-What do you mean by tha...? HEY!" she asked, but in the blink of an eye he was gone.

His power fantasy was about to begin.

Beyond the entrance gates of Fatima School, past the concrete quadrangle and basketball courts of the grade school campus and right into the high school one stood the girl of his dreams who turned his life into a nightmare.

Her hair danced from the gale wind he himself produced, like a proud brunette flag at full mast. Her slim arms showed some muscle definition but not in a bodybuilder type of way.

The beautiful girl who rejected him over a misunderstanding. The gorgeous young woman who ruined his social life in Fatima High.

Her perfectly symmetrical face had a gentle look to it. Or it did until she saw him.

There she was. Laura Reyes.

His first crush in high school. The one who ultimately rejected him.

She was a fit girl with sturdy legs and a wide, unabashed smile as she talked to several of their classmates. Her hourglass figure created the perfect feminine silhouette as she turned towards him.

He intended to spare her from his power fantasy rampage since he really did like her a lot. Before their friendship crumbled to dust with his accidental social suicide, they got along fine.

They weren't close friends but they could talk to each other.

Just as he was about to move past her though, she flinched at him and gave her a look of contempt.

"Stay away from me, you creep."

Florante snapped then and there, his body surging with electrical might that coursed through his crush's veins, electrocuting her to death.

He didn't go so far as to fry her to toast because it'd be a shame to see such a cute girl turn to ash or dust, but his angry outburst of power did kill her.

He hesitated after seeing the girl with fair skin and an angelic body wilt like a flower and fall like velvet unto the grassy ground of the soccer field, unmoving.

Beautiful in death as she was in life. She fell with the same grace as Evelyn Francis McHale did. The depressed woman who jumped from the Empire State Building on May 1, 1947, landing on a car roof.

Both appeared like they were resting or napping instead of dead, stuck in an idle daydream.

The boy beside her, a friend of hers from another section whose name eluded Florante, screamed and attacked him on instinct, even though he himself had trouble recognizing what had just happened.

Galang reacted thusly, shooting his attacker with twice the amount of electricity than he shot Laura, intending to fry him to ash.

The kid crumpled into a ball after Florante moved forward and punched him on the side, breaking his ribs. Perhaps also his spine. He soon lay motionless on the grass beside Laura.

Before he could finish him off, he heard gasps, screams, and murmurs from everyone who witnessed his crime.

What was he doing? Should he be doing this? Wasn't this wrong of him to do this? Should he stop? Turn himself in?

He gulped, exhaled, and heard a whistle from his breath. His asthma was acting up again. How ironic for an asthmatic like him to suddenly have wind powers.

He reassured himself that it was just a dream. Perhaps a lucid dream, but still just a dream. An illusion or perhaps delusion. A fantasy of him evolving and maturing.

His power fantasy.

His felt his body feel grow warmer and warmer, reaching a fever pitch as a cyclone or tornado formed around him. The clouds darkened above, the winds blowing seemingly from around him reshaping the sky, turning morning to seeming midnight.

A boy suddenly gaining superpowers from out of the blue to take revenge on his bullies? Surely this was the dream of an idle mind, regardless of whether he made it up during nighttime slumber or while daydreaming in his boring math class.

With that in mind, he indulged, laughing as he experimented upon the nearest of the students with his crackling lighting bolts and energy projectiles.

When he took control of the energy flowing though him, he could make his electrical powers shock the nervous systems of the surrounding students to the point of making them jump back like frightened cats or spooked frogs.

It was amusing in a darkly humorous sort of way.

He kept on moving forward, recalling his list of bullies in his mind.

Starting with the kids Laura was hanging out with. The popular kids.

Like Danny Malicdem. Florante chanced upon him walking down the stairs to where the first floor classrooms were.

Galang remembered Malicdem as his classmate who first teased him about his obvious crush with Laura right in front of her in the lunchroom, which led to her to talk to him less, thinking their every encounter had a hidden agenda on his part.

He was also the guy who suggested Florante draw Laura then lied to her about him drawing her in the nude. He was drawing her body first before putting on her clothes, dammit!

Florante wasn't as careful with using his powers on Danny as he was with Laura. He shot him full force with his energy bolt full of presumably millions of volts of electricity, turning him into a shadow on the pavement while the rest of the projectile exploded right through one of the nearby pillars like a bomb.

Like one of the victims of the Atomic Bomb, in fact.

Galang kept walking towards the inside of the building while various students ran away from him, not understanding how he was doing what he was doing.

In the hallway, as he walked with murderous intent, he then saw Mr. Neil Nepomuceno. Their social studies teacher who humiliated him in front of the class, shouting, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

The teacher cried out pretty much the same thing before hollering out his catchphrase of, "Caramba!" and turning into a grotesque splatter of guts, gore, and giblets on the wall care of a careless yet supernaturally strong backhand.

Damn. He didn't know his own strength.

Galang couldn't even look at the mess that used to be Mr. Nepomuceno.

The school was in a panic. They had kids under the table. Screaming teachers. Security guards with guns shooting at Florante, but he blew them (literally) away without a second thought.

It was frighteningly easy to kill people his dream. He had to hold back a little bit. Savor the moment.

'Susmaryosep, I sure am screwed up.'

He went up the stairs, sparing several of his classmates he recognized but had no quarrel over. Forgiving them for laughing at the jokes of his bullies and targeting his bullies instead.

Was he not a Merciful God? An Angel of Mercy and Divine Retribution?

He then caught up with Kyle Hernandez inside the computer room, who sat on a chair across a long table. The same guy who had been tag-teaming with Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto to jeer and humiliate him at every turn.

This culminated to him playing a practical joke on Florante during the flag ceremony. The sections were lined up by height in front of the Philippine flag every Monday.

One Monday, Hernandez and many of Florante's classmates lined up from only one line, leaving the line where Galang was much shorter and only about 5-6 people long.

"Hey, Flor. What's going on outside? Is there a storm? Are classes canceled?" Kyle asked Florante, who didn't respond as he approached him with malice.

Bristling in remembrance of that humiliating prank, Florante turned a lightning bolt into a laser sword and cut Kyle in half by the chest down, with one half of him shorter than the other like the lines he made that day.

He moved further down the second floor hallway right into the middle stairs. He heard more screams and the stampede of leather shoes. He silenced them by firing more bolts of energy across the open yard right on the balcony of the second floor hallway.

He then fired off missiles of light from all ten of his fingertips into the classrooms to his left, resulting in debris, pieces of plaster and concrete, and flaming wooden shards to shower all over him.

As the smoke cleared, he made a beeline to the final flight of stairs to get to the third floor library.

He practically flew through the steps, remembering how one of his bullies actually fell back and hit him with his buttocks to the face while the rest of his posse yucked it up.

Those bastards. Make a fool of him, would they? He'd show them. He'd show them all!

He burst through the library's double doors so hard they flew right off of their hinges.

He targeted more of his freshmen classmates, specifically the ones who teased and bullied him while he mostly shocked and flung like rag dolls anyone else that got in his way.

Many of the students were wise enough to stay back, hide, or run away from him.  

Alas, the more his power grew the more he couldn't control it. There was bound to be some collateral damage here and there. He honestly didn't know his own strength. Not at this point.

There they were. The people who regularly appeared on his "snitch list" to teachers so that they'd stop bothering him but they found ways to mess with him regardless.

Steven Catimbang. Sheila Bernal. Isaiah Cuevas. Matthew Lim. Regina Mariano.

Florante spotted them before they went and hid in the computer section of the library or tried to blend in with the rest of the fleeing crowd of students.

Steven was the one who pulled the butt-to-the-face prank on him.

He found Steven at the computer table as he was about to hide under it. Galang shot Catimbang in time with a bolt to the posterior, destroying the lower half of his body and leaving the upper half crawling in the floor, crying blood and begging for his life (even though it was too late for him).

This was seriously fucked up. Goddamn.

As for Sheila, he found her under another table of the library. She was the girl from another section who, as his section of boys packed up from their swimming class for P.E. (gender separated), jeered at him and his lack of a bulge on his swimming trunks.

He was jeered relentlessly by his classmates for months after that remark regarding his manhood.

He asked Bernal if she remembered the swimming pool incident, and she just stared blankly at him. "W-Who are you...? Pl-Please, don't kill me! I'll do anything...!"

She didn't even remember him.

Seeing how big of mouth she had, he decided to suck the air from out of her, vacuuming it right out of her mouth until she suffocated. He instantly regretted it after seeing the horrified face she made and the purple tinge of her whole body.

He moved on, his head throbbing and his finger twitching with static and sparks.

As for Isaiah Pascual, he tried scampering towards the window, but Galang caught him by the collar. "I don't know how you're doing this, bro, but we're friends, right? I always talked to you!"

Florante replied, "You abandoned me when I needed you the most. I tried to fit in with you and your group, but you were always so distant."

Pascual kicked Galang by the groin and attempted to run away, jeering, "Yeah, right! Like I'd ever be friends with...!" only to be cut off with his head exploding from one of Florante's light bullets.

"...Yeah. Why'd I ever delude myself into thinking you were my friend?" Florante felt something warm drip on his face. It was Pascual's blood.

He resisted the urge to hurl, looking away at the mess he made of his traitor of a friend.

Matthew Lim even cried out, "Leave me alone! I never did anything to you, Flor!" before Florante reminded him, "You made fun of my accent when speaking English. You told people about how when I talked to them, I couldn't stare them in the eye."

"Th-That's it? Dude, we barely even talk or interact! It was Jacinto! Gerry's the one who's always messing with you, man...!"

He turned Lim into a mangled mess by shooting the ceiling and letting debris fall on him. He turned away before the smoke from the wreckage cleared as soon as he the blood pool from underneath the rubble.

Then there was Regina Mariano. She once compared him to a boy with fetal alcohol syndrome found on their pamphlet about how drugs and alcohol could affect people's lives.

He hated the teasing she caused then. But he could barely look her in the eyes now, and it wasn't because of his social anxiety.

No. Right now, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, saying over and over, "I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

He then asked, "Do you believe in God?"

This made her cry harder, not knowing what to say except, "I'm so sorry!" over and over.

He decided to give her a quicker, painless death than the rest, ramping up his gathered chi energy or whatever and releasing a beam of light that turned her to ash. The entire building shuddered from the impact of his forceful will.

...At least it was all a dream. Right?

A fantasy he could use to vent in a harmless way, with him not actually hurting anyone.

Not recognizing the rest of the faces hiding under the tables and the rubble, he walked out of the library (or what was left of it) in a daze.

He stared back at his cracked reflection on the glass divider of the computer section of the library. All he could see was a shadowy silhouette of a man with shining blue eyes, like a cornered animal at dusk.

Was that everyone? No, wait. He still had a few more people to scratch off of his list of bullies.

He walked across the soccer field straight to the gym where they had their P.E. classes.

From the roar of the winds, he could idly hear what he surmised as Mrs. Mancenido, crying out for him to stop. Recognizing who he was.

'Sorry, ma'am,' he apologized to her in his mind. It was too late for him.

Good thing this was all a dream though.

He jumped and crashed right into the third floor basketball court that doubled as a volleyball court.

It was mostly empty. The students probably caught wind of what he was doing, even though it was hard to believe or imagine him having the otherworldly powers necessary for this massacre to take place.

As the winds parted and the smoke cleared, he was greeted by a metal pipe to the back of his skull from out of nowhere.

He turned to see John Uson put up his dukes at him. "You son of a bitch. Did you kill her, Flor?"

"...Who?" he dared ask even though he knew who he was talking about.

"Laura, you asshole! Why'd you kill her?! How the hell did you turn into... this?"

Florante caught the pipe and used it to conduct millions of volts of electricity at John before answering the convulsing student's question with, "Because she was a bitch to me."

Ah. John Uson. He remembered him. They were being ferried around by the same school service.

Instead of spending gas money driving the kids to school, their parents opted to save money by paying a jeepney driver to fetch them and other kids around their village from house to house in order to drive them straight to Fatima.

They weren't neighbors but they lived in the same suburb.

He remembered Uson pranking him, putting cockroaches in his bag like an asshole. He was also one of the guys who encouraged him to draw Laura in the nude when he was just making a sketch.

The nerve of him, acting the hero now when he was nothing but a villain to him all this time.

"This is pranking me with those cockroaches."

Uson spat blood all over Florante's face despite his body writhing in agony. "Really? You're going kill me just for that, you psycho? Like you killed Laura? God damn, you're a petty son of a...!"

Galang then slammed John to the ground with a sickening crunch. Squashed like a bug.

How appropriate.

He looked at his wristwatch, amazed that it still functioned after all his effort and use of thunderbolts and electrical shocks.

This really was a dream, then, or else his watch would've ended up busted long ago.

Regardless, he'd been at it with his rampage for almost 40 to 45 minutes. The whole school was in bedlam thanks to the pacific storm that was him.

Someone soft and sweet-smelling yet hard-bodied grabbed Florante from behind in a Full-Nelson hold, arms interlocked from under his armpits and hands clasped behind his neck.

"I always knew you were a little psycho," said someone from behind him. Someone... female. Her words were full of venom but her melodic voice was music to his ears.

Shamed as he was to admit it, this was the closest to female contact he ever had in his life. Probably to no one's surprise in Fatima, given his bad reputation.

Wait, he recognized that voice. It was Laura's other best friend aside from Jenny. Kelly Mendoza. A promising freshman volleyball player rising in the ranks of their team. One of Laura's best friends.

He then felt something sharp pierce through his uniform. For the first time, he felt pain. Searing, gnawing pain.

He doubled over in time to realize who had stabbed him with a pocket knife.

It was Mark Silva. Gerry Jacinto's second-in-command. Or best friend. Whichever.

The other tough guy of First Year St. Francis of Assisi charged at Florante while he was distracted by Kelly grabbing hold of him so tightly, her breasts pressing close to his back.

Regardless, Florante winced and wheezed from what Silva had wrought, gnashing his teeth in agony and indignation.

Another villain wanted to play the hero. Just like a bully who'd mess with you until you hit him back, so now he was the victim and you were the one who was in the wrong.

This guy. The audacity of this asshole. He remembered him.

Every time they had an oral exam or had to go in front of the board, he'd be there with Gerry to jeer and mock Florante about his crush with Laura until she herself stopped associating with him.

His body shivered and folded in on itself in hatred, fear, and anger as Mendoza let go of him, his blood pooling on the floor.

"Why are you snarling? You're actually angry? You li'l bitch!" screamed Kelly at Florante's ear as she kicked him where Mark stabbed him.

"How dare you. You killed Laura! Danny! Mr. Nepomuceno! John! Who knows how many others in the library and classrooms! You're a monster! You have no right to be this angry, asshole! Don't play the victim now!"

Mark stabbed him again, this time sticking his knife at Florante's back.

"As far as I'm concerned, he deserves to be bullied," said Silva. "Not only is he a snitch. He's also a psycho. We were bullying him in self-defense. We were protecting Laura from weirdo creeps like him."

Galang also remembered that one time, when he was alone in the mall, Silva chanced upon him with his own girlfriend, saying, "Aw, still no GF, Flor?" He overheard them make fun of him behind his back as an awkward virgin who was fated to be forever alone.

Come to think of it, the girl he was with probably was the same one holding him back with a wrestling move.

"You should've killed yourself instead, since no one would care if you died!" said Silva.

That was the last straw.

This fucking bastard. This bitch. This wasn't the first time Silva told him to kill himself. Even before Florante went on a murder spree, he already told him the same words.

It was amazing what monsters people ended up becoming when treating those they believe were monsters themselves.

First, he blew the volleyball varsity player away into the roof and the sky, with her shrieking like a banshee all the while. She ended up pretty high up before she came crashing back down.

Florante averted his eyes from the harsh and inevitable crash from the screaming Kelly. He'd seen enough gore for one day.

Instead, he focused his attention on Silva. His bully who stood a good few inches above him and several inches thicker in musculature than him seemed smaller somehow.

Galang didn't know what sort of face he was making, but it elicited a gape-mouthed, wide-eyed look of he presumed was awe on the part of one of his worst bullies in school.

It felt so good seeing the tables turned on him for once.

It felt anti-climatic shooting him with five bolts of energy from one hand when usually one or two was enough to blast entire classrooms into smithereens. It was still overkill nevertheless.

"FLORANTE!"

Florante heard his name echo across the wrecked basketball court with the torn roof from a familiar booming voice. A voice he'd heard countless times, mocking him. Haunting him like a resentful ghost. The voice of his biggest, most savage of bullies and critics.

Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto.

Each and every one of his fingertips grew hot with building power and energy. Instead of five shots, he wanted to shoot his whole payload of pure light unto the bastard who made his time in Fatima a Living Hell.

Gerry wasn't seething with anger like Mark was. For someone who just saw the murder of his best friend and best friend's girlfriend, he had a pretty smug smirk on his face.

Florante breathed out a sigh of relief. This definitely was a dream, or else the real Gerry would've reacted more severely to what he had wrought.

He faced off with the huge and lanky bully who'd normally push him around with ease. Finally, he could push back. Finally, he could fight back and then some.

Florante fired off all ten bullets of light energy and plasma straight at Gerry, expecting it to turn him into ash or a shadow on the pavement, if not straight off

There was no kill like overkill, after all.

However, to Galang's surprise, Jacinto shrugged off the miniature comets like specks of water or rain, the bolts of power exploding behind him and giving his bullish rush an extra boost care of the resulting simultaneous shockwaves from ten blockbuster-tier explosions.

The tall basketball player charged and tackled the nerdy asthmatic, who could only stand there, jaw metaphorically unhinged in shock, before a meaty punch on the same jaw literally unhinged it from its socket.

"SHUSHMARYOSHEP!" Florante called out, wincing as he snapped his jaw back into place with hand. It looked so easy to do in the movies, but when you did it yourself, they never tell you about the toothache-like pain of attempting such a movie afterwards.

Meanwhile, the sneering Gerry mimicked and repeated his "catchphrase" to his face, mocking him. "'Susmaryosep'? What are you, an old lady attending mass in Quiapo Church?" He laughed his heart out.

Ooof. Even in his dreams, his nightmare of a bully still had the upper hand?!

Grinding his teeth in frustration, Galang willed lighting strikes to hit Jacinto over and over while at the same thing charging compressed pinpoint spheres of energy above each and every finger.

Hit two birds with one stone.

The problem was that his metaphor didn't work and he missed both birds by a mile when Jacinto did sledgehammer punches all over him, unable to retaliate or shoot any of his bullets that leveled most of the high school building earlier on.

"You really are a virgin with rage, aren't you? Mr. Sensitive. Mr. 'The whole world is against me. Oh woe is me.'"

Florante ended up curled into a ball, remembering his mother hitting him with the belt whenever he misbehaved. Still, for some reason he was still more afraid of his mom than this tall, beefy male turning him into a punching bag.

"You're blaming us for you ending up like an asshole? Let me guess, it's us not you. Everybody else is an asshole. You're the saint here! You psychotic murderer!"

He gritted his teeth as though afraid his jaw would get dislocated or altogether broken from Jacinto's hammer fists. Vaguely, he remembered hearing how his bully also trained in boxing as a hobby.

Throughout the haze of pain and what seemed like endless fists raining down upon him, he realized something.

Somehow, someway, Gerry gained the same special superpowers as he did, allowing him to keep up with him. Or even surpass him.

Jacinto beat and ground him to a pulp, breaking his right hand, cracking several of his ribs, punching his face until one of his eyes swelled shut, bending his leg at an awkward angle, and triggering his asthma to the point that the mere act of breathing felt like torture.

Once again, the popular kid at the center of everything was beating up the little guy that no one liked. As usual.

"Make the effort to change or face the consequences of your own bad behavior, moron! If everyone in society is laughing and condemning you, is it really society's fault? Or is there a chance you're just being a jerk?"

Gerry slammed Florante's face and body into the devastated basketball court, making the entire third floor of the building shudder from the impact. "Apologize now, and maybe I'll consider sparing your life."

'Apologize...?' he thought while on the brink of unconsciousness, the darkness seeping through the sides of his blurring vision.

Even in his dreams, Jacinto got the better of him. The charming bully you never saw in TV shows and movies who made you think you deserved being bullied by him.

He couldn't humiliate him with a joke that made the whole class laugh or embarrass him in front of Laura the way they did to him. Not in real life and not in his fantasy.

This was what he learned all throughout his stay in Fatima High.

People would torture you. People would outcast you. And when you were to retaliate, they'd declare you the bad guy.

He remembered punching the head of one of his bullies for messing with him for so long, only for him to get in trouble and end up in the principal's office because his bully dared claim to be the victim instead.

It was a good thing a teacher caught his bullies bullying him one time, allowing him to write down the names of those who teased him so that they'd cut it out.

This only ended up giving him the reputation of being a snitch.

He could never win. Damned if he did and damned if he didn't. It wasn't fair.

Well then, screw being fair. He had enough.

In reality, he couldn't take his revenge on him in a fair, reciprocal manner. Instead, Florante could only vent his frustrations at him or the "him" that existed in his mind this way.

His coping mechanism was having violent fantasies. Either that, or punching the wall again and getting scolded by his mother for breaking either the wall or his fist.

As Jacinto prepared to knock him out or worse, Florante saw his opening.

With his remaining healthy left hand flowing with pinpoint spheres of energy at each fingertip, Galang thrust his clawed hand and every single finger into Jacinto's broad chest, drawing blood.

"...Apologize? Yeah, sure. I'm sorry I ever met you. Go to Hell."

He dug deeper and deeper even as Jacinto kept punching his already broken face and body. He wouldn't let go.

"LET GO, FLOR! LET GO! I ain't joking! FUCK!" the punches became more rapid. Stronger. Harder. Faster. More panicked. There was actual fear in his eyes for once.

It felt so satisfying to see him like this.

Galang could feel Jacinto's heart pound at the same time as his own excited pulse. He gripped the heart tightly then pulled.

From inside Gerry, Galang shot his five energy bullets simultaneously, which fried his insides and made the entire top half of his body explode into electric fire, guts, muscles, tendons, blood, and giblets, the hint of ozone noticeable in the air along with the smell of burnt human flesh.

As what was left of Jacinto's lifeless corpse fell to the ground with a wet thud, Florante heaved a relieved sigh, the rain from the large gaping hole in the ceiling (practically a skylight) washing the blood, sweat, and tears from his beat-up body and face away.

It was just a dream. A fantasy. A way for him to vent from all the stress of his real-life bullying.

Everything he had done so far were victimless crimes against, well, imaginary straw-men (and straw-women).

Right?

***

 As Florante strode through the pure devastation of what was once Fatima that he left behind in his wake, he felt unsatisfied somehow. Empty. Hollow.

Was that it? He got his revenge against the people who wronged him. What now?

He looked at the consequences of his actions and cringed. The feeling was familiar. Like the aftermath of a storm. Or a temper tantrum when he was about 6 or 7 years old.

It felt cathartic to release all that pent-up anger and frustration he couldn't verbalize or express at his classmates normally, but now he felt a huge amount of guilt weigh him down.

Was any of this called for? What was he thinking?

Instead of relief, he felt like he did whenever he had a temper tantrum when he was a toddler, only to end up hurting those around him. He went too far. He overdid it.

This wasn't Even-Stevens. Well, some of them were, like how it felt satisfying to grind Silva into the ground like that. But for the most part, this wasn't fair. He made things worse instead of better.

This wasn't him. He was a good guy. Dealt a bad hand by fate. Born a social outcast with social anxiety and awkwardness around people.

He didn't really want to hurt anyone, but his temper always got the better of him, leading him to do things he wouldn't otherwise do.

Florante walked outside the entrance gates of Our Lady of Fatima School of Mandaluyong, his head in a daze. He could hear the wheeze and whistle of his asthma from under his breath after every exhale.

Everything was quiet. The whole school was a wreck. It felt like his brain was slamming itself right into his skull, demanding release.

He might've been in shock. For a minute or two, he didn't know where he was or what had happened.

He then heard a voice say, "I found you. You naughty little devil."

The apparition of a beautiful girl with long, flowing hair and immaculate blue wings emerged from the rain and mist. He asked her, "Who are you?!"

As she stared at Florante with an unreadable expression, she whispered, "Archangel Raphael," which made him remember the comic books he drew about the four archangels.

Who was she? Why was her face familiar? She was so gorgeous.

"This is the end of the line for you. I won't let you hurt anyone else."

She reminded him of Laura Reyes.

Wait. Laura? As in the girl he met on the first day of school that he had a crush on?

The same Laura that he had just... murdered?

Like a bolt out of the blue, he remembered everything he'd done an hour ago.

Laura had awakened to supernatural powers like he had and turned or transformed into the Archangel Raphael to avenge the deaths of all the people he just killed, including her.

She was there to take him away. Probably to kill him. Give him karmic justice for all that had transpired.

He felt the corners of his mouth quirk. This was all probably for the best. Let his crush finish him off and pay for his crimes. Let her become his Angel of Death.

Wait, so why was she Raphael instead of Azrael?

Faster than he could even fathom or wonder why she was named after the Angel of Healing instead of the Angel of Death, Raphael flew towards him with watery tendrils.

Everything became a blur from that point on when he and Archangel Raphael finally faced off.

His life then flashed before his eyes.

And then he finally woke up.

Thank God.

***

What a weird, horrible dream.

Yet another dream in a series of dreams. Perhaps nightmares, even.

Not night terrors, though. You didn't remember night terrors after waking up.

He rubbed the rheum from his eyes, took a pen and paper (notebook), and wrote down what had happened in his latest dream on his dream journal.

That one was a doozy.

What was wrong with him, dreaming up such scenarios? He told himself that he'd never do such a thing in real life. Not only because he didn't want to but because he couldn't.

No one developed superpowers like this except in fiction. This was obviously a dream. A dream a psycho would come up with but a dream nonetheless.

His crush who rejected him just killed him after he killed her first.

His dream was indeed just a manifestation of his longing to belong.

Apparently, it was all a fever dream of Florante's. He ended up not going to school that day because of how high of a fever he had, which was also compounded by his asthma.

The feverish asthmatic called in absent for three days until he recovered.

Ugh. At least he'd have a break from his bullying at Fatima High.

Three days after his fever dream, he went back to school. His prison.

For an introvert like him, home was freedom and the outside was maximum penitentiary.

It was in Fatima High School in Mandaluyong where he now found himself exiled. He was left in a prison city. Heaven for others and hell for him.

As usual, it rained hard. It was the rainy season during June in the tropical Philippines, after all.

On the plus side, because it was raining he didn't have to deal with the weekly morning flag ceremony every Monday, with everyone gathered around the concrete stadium under the hot sun.

He had his morning classes instead.

He didn't view the rain as an omen of things to come. Just something unavoidable and inconvenient given the season. He'd already said his goodbyes to the sun back in summer.

The only people he could hang out with were the Dead Kids, and even then he could only do so during lunchtime and through the Art Club. Most of the time, he was left to his own devices with the classmates he loathed.

He detested Fatima High School. He loved Pasig. For the most part, anyway.

He was not a big fan of the river of mud and vegetation known as the Pasig River. When it flooded, it had waters with the consistency of chocolate milk. The chocolate milk river.

'Don't drink from it, though,' he mused.

He didn't want to open up the can of worms of humiliation that happened to him day after day, in dreary weather at that.

He wished he could forget every day. Erase everything and end up with a clean slate every time.

If only. If only.

Most days were uneventful and boring anyway, if a bit awkward. He mostly had no one to talk to. People laughed behind his back. He felt extra conscious of himself, afraid of embarrassing himself or doing something cringe-worthy.

He'd actually improved from his grade school days because on top of being socially awkward, he was more than a bit of a crybaby to boot when he was younger.

Again, he was a spoiled brat who was a bit of a weirdo.

During nursery and kindergarten, he was particularly terrible. Almost like a toddler. He even embarrassed himself up on stage when he was assigned to memorize and recite a poem about picking up 50 pesos.

He must've been about 7 or 8 years old when it happened. Embarrassingly, he had the emotional maturity of a 2-3 year old at the time.

He didn't only cry back then. He bawled. He had a tantrum.

His tantrums at class got so bad that his mother had to be called in.

He was quick to anger, though. The smallest things could set him off. He wore his heart on his sleeve.

Naturally, his behavior wasn't conducive to getting friends. His only best friend at the time soon abandoned him for being such a crybaby weirdo.

In fairness to Florante, he somewhat improved and emotionally matured as he grew older. Instead of bawling, he'd only cry to himself. Soon, he'd only get misty eyed when his emotions got the better of him.

However, the fact that he was so sensitive made him a prime target for teasing and bullying.  

What was worse was that when he was even younger he had no self-awareness, so by the time he got older, he could only scratch his head in puzzlement at why no one would be friends with him, why the girls in his school found him to be gross, or why he was bullied so often.

Hindsight was 20/20. A cringe-inducing 20/20.

He could only cringe in remembrance. He swore once he debuted in high school, he'd never again act like a huge... er... wimp.

Afterwards, from crying a lot to crying a little, he soon graduated to not crying at all but still feeling the blues whenever the popular kids and/or the bullies called him out on his... eccentricities.

This year's batch of Fatima High School freshmen had a total of 200 plus girls and boys occupying about 5 classrooms of about 40 or so students each.

It had its own grade school too, so many of the kids here had grown up together, give or take several students who were "accelerants" or those who moved from Grade 6 to high school without going through Grade 7 because of their good grades.

Regardless, he remained the new guy in town. In a new school. A curiosity. A freak. No one there was anyone he grew up with. He had to make friends quick or else he'd end up a pariah like in his last school.

However, for whatever reason though, his classmates were more distant to him than before. Usually, they took the time to mess with him.

Did something happen again? Like the time all the boys in his class noticed his undershirt was threadbare to the point of being see-through, so they teased him and called him a male stripper?

He briefly considered the chance of them having the same nightmare as him massacring students left and right before waving the thought off.

'As if that'd ever happen.'

On one hand, this was just par for the course with all the bullying he went through in high school. On the other hand, it was all somehow different. They were actually leaving him alone, which was kind of a refreshing change.

He was still the social pariah, but at least they weren't calling him names or making him the butt of the joke as usual.

That was on the plus side. On the "minus" side of things, he ate alone at lunch. None of the Dead Kids were available and he didn't have Art Club that day.

Where did they go? Did something happen? He hoped he wasn't kicked out of the group or anything, like what happened to Laura and Gerry after the nude drawing incident.

Maybe if he was better looking, he'd have more confidence? Like a sporty, tall kind of guy instead of a normal guy who was just there? However, no matter how good he looked, being a crybaby beyond the age of 4 years old was never a good look anyway.

If only he were manlier then perhaps girls would look his way without eyes of disdain, pity, or non-romantic attraction. Maybe. He didn't want to think about it. It made him cringe in embarrassment.

Instead, he was a tan-skinned, brown-eyed, and stringy-haired kid with an almost bowl-cut hair parted in the middle. A total geek.

That Thursday, school sucked as usual. You'd think his impromptu three-day sabbatical would improve things, but they didn't.

On second thought, maybe it did.

Many of his classmates had thankfully gotten sick and tired of messing with him, with all those tough guy jocks and bullies focusing their attention on his other classmates and their... imperfections.

He felt their pain as they were made fun of because of things like being too quiet, having eyes that were unusually big, or alleging one of them had... mental issues.

No, the First Year St. Francis of Assisi bullies weren't exactly politically correct with their insults.

With that said, perhaps rather than a premonition, he should've been more worried about what had already happened. Like his fever dream he somehow couldn't forget.

Well, he kind of couldn't forget. As the day wore on, the details of the dream became hazy like in any other dream, but the summary of it remained fresh in his mind.

In order to vent, he gained superpowers in his dreams and killed his most of classmates, many of which were his staunchest of bullies.

A disturbing fantasy but a fantasy nonetheless. A victimless crime.

If only something unusual like that were to happen. Not necessarily him doing a mass murder of the scope of The Peoples Temple in Jonestown. Sure, that was a different kind of massacre he read from one of the library books during recess, but a massacre nonetheless.

Something more like an exciting new adventure. New horizons for him. Now that he'd released all his pent-up rage in his dreams, perhaps he could delve into something more positive.

Like doing some oil painting (too expensive, though). Or finishing his unfinished comic book, maybe by basing it on his dream journal (if only he had the time).

'Note to self: Never tell anyone from my class that I keep a dream journal,' Florante thought. He was bullied enough already. No need to add that cherry on top of his shit sundae of a life.

Or maybe something more fantastic, like him piloting a giant robot. Or him ending up with a harem of girls. Or him saving the world from the threat of annihilation by monsters.

Or something.

The dismissal bell rung.

As his classmates started milling towards the exit, he willed himself to ignore the stares he felt at his back. It was a familiar feeling of someone being watched for the tiniest clumsy mistake, weird behavior, or angry outburst.

He heard idle chatter from the different cliques and groups formed within their class across the months they'd been together in one classroom, talking about where they wanted to eat or wished to go.

The malls of Mandaluyong were walking distance from their school, after all.

Unlike in college or in high schools in the U.S., the Fatima private school had all the subjects taught in one classroom instead of students moving from one classroom to another.

They were more like schools in Japan, where one class full of students stayed in one classroom for the whole year. They didn't switch out and mingled with other sections in the same year except during club meetings, where students from different years and sections could join.

Nothing significant happened today. Nothing really changed. It was business as usual, even with his bullies letting him off the hook for today.

He heard the door slam on the classroom, making him realize he was all alone. His head turned. A savage movement. Like a deer realizing it had been trapped. Or headed on a collision course with a truck, the bright headlights mesmerizing it.

As he was about to go to his school service at the school parking lot, the "something" he wished would happen finally happened.

He should've been careful what he wished for, to be honest.

As an aside, it was like déjà vu all over again.

A huge boulder that looked like a piece of the Fatima Grade School building fell right on the jeepney that served as his school service, crushing it in its weight.

"Wha...?"

He turned around. The school he just exited was in ruins, students were running away screaming, and something supernatural was the cause of all this mayhem.

To be more specific, right above the school floated a monster with two gigantic eyeballs sitting atop a body made of a mountain of minced meat and long tangled tendrils that undulated and wrapped themselves around the buildings and people like a dense forest of guts and intestine.

Damn. To think, spaghetti was his favorite food too.

It was like he was losing his mind just looking at that incomprehensible thing, much less try to describe it.

His mind went a mile a minute, going from the horrible realization that his fellow school service students in Pasig had been crushed to death to Fatima High getting demolished by a giant monster.

Wait, did he fall asleep again? Was he indulging in another one of his secret "edgy" fantasies he'd never dare (nor could) do in real life?

That must've been what happened. None of this was real.

His fever dream still fresh in his mind, he moved forward instead of away from the tentacle monster even as students and teachers (as well as faculty members and staff) of all ages ran away from it.

The giant monster crawled like kudzu grass from one building to the next, crushing them under its weight. It didn't so much move around as grew so that its fleshy red membrane body with eyes could transfer itself from one position to the next, like a vine or flowering plant but sped up.

It flooded the streets of Shaw Boulevard and St. Francis Street with its endless, root-like tendrils and tentacles of varying sizes, resulting in a heavy traffic jam. It looked like it was headed towards the nearest mall. Why though?

He stopped after seeing the monster swallow up several students in its sea of viscera and intestinal entanglements. Some of them kids from the Fatima grade school who hung out after dismissal for too long.

Many of them were his fellow students from high school. Most unfamiliar or vaguely familiar faces. One in particular caught his eye.

A bespectacled, short-haired girl swinging and swimming towards the eye balls. Brave of her to do so, but her face looked familiar...

It was Jenny! Jennifer Tolentino. The girl he spared in his dream before he "massacred" his bullies.

The monster saw her just in time to wrap one of its tendrils around her neck, arms, and limbs.

The one girl in their class who was nice to him was about to die.

Before he knew it, Florante found himself running towards the monster instead of away from it.

Like in his dream, he shot out bolts of lightning and reverberating shockwaves of thunder at the living spaghetti creature, freeing up many of the students in its grasp.

He shot one of the creature's eyes and cut through its tendrils in time to get even Jenny loose, catching her right in his arms.

"...Flor!" she exclaimed as he landed on his feet while holding her in a bridal carry. "Y-You saved me!"

He felt his cheeks grow warm as he gently put her back to the ground on her own two feet. He then faced away from her in embarrassment, not knowing what else to say.

"Thank you!" he heard her say from behind him, which made him mutter, "Y-You're welcome," under his breath.

This was it. He didn't really want to kill all his classmates like in his other dream where he vented his frustration over his social awkwardness and their bullying of him.

He wanted to be accepted. Respected. Validated. Loved. Or at least tolerated and left alone instead of having every single quirk or action he did scrutinized and mocked.

He wanted his existence to be acknowledged at school. He wanted to be treated fairly like other students. He didn't want to hurt anyone, just stop them from hurting him.

Maybe he could get one or two close friends as well. That wouldn't hurt.

He charged at the monster wreaking havoc all over the street like mountains of spilled Italian food, intending to fry it into charcoal.

"Gabriel, watch out...!" Jenny screamed.

"Gabriel...?" he repeated, only to have tentacles shoot out from behind him, stabbing his back.

The monster did a sneak attack on him, he realized too late. It spread its noodle limbs into the nearest drain then shot it up where he couldn't see.

He then saw the world spin all around him, from sky to concrete to car to dirt to van to pillar to post and back again to the sky.

He got dragged and flung around until he felt the tendrils snap like lizard tails, hurling him to the roof of a Toyota Tamaraw FX utility vehicle.

Tears streamed down his eyes, his whole body throbbing except his legs, which horrified him. He suffocated in pain, unable to even groan as tears streamed down his eyes.

Had the spaghetti monster turned him to roadkill? What sort of nightmare was this? His powers from his previous dream failed him, and now he felt death creep in the edges of his blurry vision.

Hah. Served him right.

That was what he got thinking he could take on that nightmarish creature. Shooting helpless students with no superpowers was way different from dealing with a giant incomprehensible mess of a monster that could fight back.

He then gasped as a feeling of euphoric relief enveloped him. Then back to heart-rending pain as he finally felt his legs or what was left of them.

Or maybe they were fine after all, as he soon felt okay enough to move them around, from his thighs and knees to his ankles and toes. He dared peer at himself, only to see bloody, torn pants draped over perfectly healthy legs, a large laceration over his hamstring closing up like magic.

He then looked up to see Jenny Tolentino kneel over him in seeming prayer, a cool neon mist of light transferring from her body to his.

Wait. Was she... healing him? Was that what was happening? Man, this is one crazy dream.

The girl with the glasses said, "I'd hoped it wouldn't come to this."

"Jenny...?" Florante trailed off.

Jenny took a deep breath and said, "Listen up, Flor. You're an Ophanim."

"P-Pardon?" stuttered a flabbergasted Florante. "I'm a... what?"

"An angel. You're an angel without wings, Flor."

***

To Be Continued...

Fun fact: I actually made a Geocities site for this story once while considering turning it into a webcomic. Or at least I named the Geocities site after this work, which featured a Gabriel De Angeles protagonist instead of a Florante Galang at the time.

Farewell, Abdiel

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Stygai, “the corpse city at the Shadow’s heart”

Rhaelyana asked:

Hello Butterfly I love so much your blog and your metas! I was wondering about Asshaï by the shadow, and more precisly about Stygai. When I read the passage where it’s mentioned in TWOIAF, I was extremely creeped out about this “city”, its alleged demons and dragons, and I would love to hear your theories about that. What is Stygai, some kind of R'lyeh? Maybe it’s tied with the great empire of dawn, I’ve heard some theories who placed the Great Empire of the Dawn at the west of Westeros, across the sunset sea. It could make sense because it was said that after the horrors committed by the Bloodstone Emperor, the Maiden-Made-Light turned her back upon the world. Maybe it’s not tied at all, but the fact that this lands are in a perpetual shadow or darkness make sense to me. I’m sorry if I’m not understandable, English is not my first language. Have a nice day!

Thanks so much! And don’t worry, you’re perfectly understandable. :)

Stygai is not R’lyeh, Stygai is most likely a reference to Stygia, from Robert E. Howard’s Conan. In GRRM’s Dreamsongs, there’s an essay about his introduction to fantasy:

It was five years after Have Space Suit, Will Travel that I stumbled across the book that would give me my first real taste of fantasy: a slim Pyramid anthology entitled Swords & Sorcery, edited by L. Sprague de Camp and published in December of 1963. And quite a tasty taste it was. Inside were stories by Poul Anderson, Henry Kuttner, Clark Ashton Smith, Lord Dunsany, and H. P. Lovecraft. There was a Jirel of Joiry story by C. L. Moore and a tale of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser by Fritz Leiber…and there was a story titled “Shadows in the Moonlight,” by Robert E. Howard. “Know, O prince,” it opened, “that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the sons of the Aryas, there was an age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars—Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west. Hither came Conan, the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirths, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandaled feet.”

The worldbuilding of Conan, the random name drops and hints to mythical and wondrous lands and cities that the reader may never see, is distinctly an influence on GRRM’s worldbuilding of ASOIAF.

Also, I’m afraid you’re a bit confused about Stygai.

On its way from the Mountains of the Morn to the sea, the Ash runs howling through a narrow cleft in the mountains, between towering cliffs so steep and close that the river is perpetually in shadow, save for a few moments at midday when the sun is at its zenith. In the caves that pockmark the cliffs, demons and dragons and worse make their lairs. The farther from the city [Asshai] one goes, the more hideous and twisted these creatures become… until at last one stands before the doors of the Stygai, the corpse city at the Shadow’s heart, where even the shadowbinders fear to tread. Or so the stories say. –TWOIAF

Stygai: Known as the City of the Night, it sits within the Vale of Shadows, where it is said that no light falls except at noon. Legends claim that it is haunted, and little is known of it by outsiders. – WOIAF app

So Stygai itself is not where the demons and dragons live, those reportedly live in the caves of the cliffs of the Mountains of the Morn. Stygai is a “corpse city”, most likely a necropolis, a city of the dead (per the Conan reference). The near-perpetual darkness is creepy, yes, and the fact that even shadowbinders don’t want to go there is unnerving, but it’s not that supernaturally weird. The endless darkness is not because of some curse by the Bloodstone Emperor, but because the mountain cliffs are so high that the valley is always in shadow. And if it is a necropolis, it’s a good reason why nobody wants to hang out there, most people don’t like visiting cemeteries, especially city-sized ones, reportedly haunted ones even less.

Note: the city of Stygai makes for a nice Watsonian explanation for why the word “stygian” exists in ASOIAF, a world without the River Styx or Greek mythology. :)

Though if you do want R’lyeh-like cities in ASOIAF, there’s K'Dath (Lovecraft’s Kadath) and Carcosa (The King in Yellow), Ib (Lovecraft’s The Doom that Came to Sarnath), Sarnath (ditto), and Leng (Lovecraft’s Plateau of Leng). GRRM borrowed from everywhere when building his world, but especially Lovecraft and Howard. As for the city of horrors itself, the city of Great Old Ones, of monsters diametrically opposed to humanity and indeed all living things… look no further than what lies beyond the curtain of light at the end of the world, the home of the Others.

Also, I’m not sure who’s theorizing that the Great Empire of the Dawn was to the west of Westeros, but it isn’t. It was to the far east of Essos, between the Bones and the Grey Waste, where Yi Ti is today. The Great Empire is a Yi Ti legend, for goodness sake. Furthermore, “Dawn” suggests “east”, not west. Oh, I mean, technically, it is to the west of Westeros, because the world is round, but there’s the unknown unmapped “New World” continents in the way.

I hope that helps!

[countrymadefoods]

ANCIENT SITES | THE HILL OF TARA – TEAMHAIR

“The Hill of Tara, known as Temair in gaeilge, was once the ancient seat of power in Ireland – 142 kings are said to have reigned there in prehistoric and historic times. In ancient Irish religion and mythology Temair was the sacred place of dwelling for the gods, and was the entrance to the otherworld. Saint Patrick is said to have come to Tara to confront the ancient religion of the pagans at its most powerful site.”

“One interpretation of the name Tara says that it means a "place of great prospect" and indeed on a clear day it is claimed that features in half the counties of Ireland can be seen from atop Tara...Early in the 20th century a group of Israelites came to Tara with the conviction that the Arc of the Covenant was buried in on the famous hill. They dug the Mound of the Synods in search of the Arc but found only some Roman coins.”

“Sitting on top of the King's Seat (Forradh) of Temair is the most famous of Tara's monuments - Ireland's ancient coronation stone - the Lia Fail or "Stone of Destiny", which was brought here according to mythology by the godlike people, the Tuatha Dé Danann, as one of their sacred objects. It was said to roar when touched by the rightful king of Tara.”

“In the churchyard at Tara there are two standing stones, which are believed to be ancient – remnants of a time when there were many stone monuments on Tara. The taller of the two stones is thought to feature a figure of the Celtic fertility god Cernunnos, and is similar to many of the 'Sheela na Gig' representations found across Ireland. These stones may date to the Neolithic period, although are more likely to have their origin in the Bronze Age.”

(via Mythical Ireland | Ancient Sites | The Hill of Tara – Teamhair)

Terra (mythology)

“In ancient Roman religion and myth, Tellus Mater or Terra Mater ("Mother Earth") is a goddess of the earth...She is regularly associated with Ceres in rituals pertaining to the earth and agricultural fertility...Her Greek counterpartis Gaia...the Terra Mater who appears during the reign of Augustus is a direct transferral of the Greek Ge Mater into Roman religious practice...The word tellus, telluris is also a Latin common noun for "land, territory; earth," as is terra, "earth, ground"...In several modern Romance languages, terra (or French terre) is the name of planet Earth. Following post-classical Latin astronomical terminology, Earth is sometimes referred to as "Terra".”

Tara (Buddhism)

“Tara, Ārya Tārā, or White Tara...in Tibetan Buddhism, is an important figure in Buddhism. She appears as a female bodhisattva in Mahayana Buddhism, and as a female Buddha in VajrayanaBuddhism. She is known as the "mother of liberation", and represents the virtues of success in work and achievements. She is known as Tara Bosatsu in Japan, and occasionally as Duōluó Púsà in Chinese Buddhism.

Tārā is a meditation deity worshiped by practitioners of the Tibetan branch of Vajrayana Buddhism to develop certain inner qualities and to understand outer, inner and secret teachings such as karuṇā (compassion), mettā (loving-kindness), and shunyata (emptiness). Tārā may more properly be understood as different aspects of the same quality, as bodhisattvas are often considered metaphors for Buddhist virtues.

Tārā is also known as a saviouress, as a heavenly deity who hears the cries of beings experiencing misery in saṃsāra. Whether the Tārā figure originated as a Buddhist or Hindu goddess is unclear and remains a source of inquiry among scholars. Mallar Ghosh believes her to have originated as a form of the goddess Durga in the Hindu Puranas.”

”She eventually came to be considered the "Mother of all Buddhas," which usually refers to the enlightened wisdom of the Buddhas, while simultaneously echoing the ancient concept of the Mother Goddess in India.

Independent of whether she is classified as a deity, a Buddha, or a bodhisattva, Tārā remains very popular in Tibet (and Tibetan communities in exile in Northern India), Mongolia, Nepal, Bhutan, Sikkim and is worshiped in a majority of Buddhist communities throughout the world.

Today, Green Tara and White Tara are probably the most popular representations of Tara. Green Tara (Khadiravani) is usually associated with protection from fear and the following eight obs-curation: lions (= pride), wild elephants (= delusion/ignorance), fires (= hatred and anger), snakes (= jealousy), bandits and thieves (= wrong views, including fanatical views), bondage (= avarice and miserliness), floods (= desire and attachment), and evil spirits and demons (= deluded doubts).”

”As one of the three deities of long life, White Tara (Saraswati) is associated with longevity. White Tara counteracts illness and thereby helps to bring about a long life. She embodies the motivation that is compassion and is said to be as white and radiant as the moon.

Tārā's name literally means "star" or "planet", and therefore she is associated with navigation and travel both literally and metaphorically as spiritual crossing to the 'other side' of the ocean of existence (enlightenment). Hence she is known literally as "she who saves" in Tibetan. In the 108 Names of the Holy Tara, Tara is 'Leader of the caravans ..... who showeth the way to those who have lost it' and she is named as Dhruva, the Sanskrit name for the North Star.”

Tārā also embodies many of the qualities of feminine principle. She is known as the Mother of Mercy and Compassion. She is the source, the female aspect of the universe, which gives birth to warmth, compassion and relief from bad karma as experienced by ordinary beings in cyclic existence. She engenders, nourishes, smiles at the vitality of creation, and has sympathy for all beings as a mother does for her children.”

“As Green Tārā she offers succor and protection from all the unfortunate circumstances one can encounter within the samsaric world. As White Tārā she expresses maternal compassion and offers healing to beings who are hurt or wounded, either mentally or psychically. As Red Tārā she teaches discriminating awareness about created phenomena, and how to turn raw desire into compassion and love. As Blue Tārā (Ekajati) she becomes a protector in the Nyingma lineage, who expresses a ferocious, wrathful, female energy whose invocation destroys all Dharmic obstacles and engenders good luck.

Another quality of feminine principle which she shares with the dakinis is playfulness...Tārā is frequently depicted as a young sixteen-year-old girlish woman. She often manifests in the lives of dharma practitioners when they take themselves, or the spiritual path too seriously. There are Tibetan tales in which she laughs at self-righteousness, or plays pranks on those who lack reverence for the feminine. In Magic Dance: The Display of the Self-Nature of the Five Wisdom Dakinis...her playful mind can relieve ordinary minds which become rigidly serious or tightly gripped by dualistic distinctions. She takes delight in an open mind and a receptive heart then. For in this openness and receptivity her blessings can naturally unfold and her energies can quicken the aspirants spiritual development.”

Polynesian narrative

“The Polynesian narrative or Polynesian mythology encompasses the oral traditions of the people of Polynesia, a grouping of Central and South Pacific Ocean island archipelagos...Prior to the 15th century AD, Polynesian peoples fanned out to the east, to the Cook Islands, and from there to other groups such as Tahiti and the Marquesas. Their descendants later discovered the islands from Tahiti to Rapa Nui, and later Hawai‘i and New Zealand. Latest research puts the settlement of New Zealand at about 1300 AD.”

”In some island groups, help is of great importance as the god of the sea and of fishing. There is often a story of the marriage between Sky and Earth; the New Zealand version, Rangi and Papa, is a union that gives birth to the world and all things in it. There are stories of islands pulled up from the bottom of the sea by a magic fishhook, or thrown down from heaven. There are stories of voyages, migrations, seductions and battles, as one might expect. Stories about a trickster, Māui, are widely known, as are those about a beautiful goddess/ancestress Hina or Sina.

In addition to these shared themes in the oral tradition, each island group has its own stories of demi-gods and culture heroes, shading gradually into the firmer outlines of remembered history. Often such stories were linked to various geographic or ecological features, which may be described as the petrified remains of the supernatural beings.”

Tiki

“In Māori mythology, Tiki is the first man created by either Tūmatauenga or Tāne. He found the first woman, Marikoriko, in a pond; she seduced him and he became the father of Hine-kau-ataata. By extension, a tiki is a large or small wooden or stone carving in humanoid form...In some West Coast versions, Tiki himself, as a son of Rangi and Papa, creates the first human by mixing his own blood with clay, and Tāne then makes the first woman. Sometimes Tūmatauenga, the war god, creates Tiki. In another story the first woman is Mārikoriko. Tiki marries her and their daughter is Hine-kau-ataata. In some traditions, Tiki is the penis of Tāne. In fact, Tiki is strongly associated with the origin of the reproductive act.“

“In one story of Tiki among the many variants, Tiki was lonely and craved company. One day, seeing his reflection in a pool, he thought he had found a companion, and dove into the pool to seize it. The image shattered and Tiki was disappointed. He fell asleep and when he awoke he saw the reflection again. He covered the pool with earth and it gave birth to a woman. Tiki lived with her in serenity, until one day the woman was excited by an eel. Her excitement passed to Tiki and the first reproductive act resulted.

The word appears as tiki in New Zealand Māori, Cook Islands Māori, Tuamotuan, and Marquesan; as tiʻi in Tahitian, and as kiʻi in Hawaiian...In the Cook Islands...Tiki is the guardian of the entrance to Avaiki, the underworld...The entrance to Avaiki (the underworld) is called ‘the chasm of Tiki’.”  

What Is the Meaning of Tiki statues?

“Tiki statues were originally carved by members of the Maori tribe as boundary markers for sacred grounds. The name of the statues is derived from the Maori name for the first human male, though the statues most often represent deities. With the introduction of missionaries into Hawaiian society in the early 1800s, Christianity became the dominant religion. Tiki statues have since lost much of their original meaning aside from their historical significance.”

“The statues most commonly represent one of the four significant gods in Hawaiian culture: Kane, Ku, Lono and Kanaloa. Kane is considered the creator of the universe and the ruler of the natural world. Ku is the Hawaiian god of war...Lono is the god of rain and fertility, as well as music and peace. Kanaloa is the god of the sea...A Lono statue is identified by its large, “fertile” belly and jovial smile.

The Ki'i statue at Pu'uhonua o Honauna National Historical Park is one of the largest and most visited Tiki statues in Hawaii. The statue rests at the entrance of a recreated Maori village. The statue is of Tiki, the first human, which explains its humanoid appearance.”

Ti'iti'i

“In Samoan legend, the mythological figure Ti'iti'i appears in legends very similar to those recounting the tales of the demigod Māui, found in other island cultures. In one such legend, which is almost identical to the New Zealand fire myth of Māui, he succeeds in bringing fire to the people of Samoa after a battle with the earthquake god, Mafui'e.

In Polynesian spellings, 't' and 'k' are linguistically linked, and in speech, the 'k' sound is typically used in place of the 't' sound. Likewise, the apostrophe can be used to replace either sounds. Thus, the Samoan Ti'iti'i is comparable to the Gilbert Islands' Tiki-tiki, or Hawai'ian Maui-ki'i-ki'i.”

Rangi and Papa

“In Māori mythology the primal couple Rangi and Papa (or Ranginui and Papatūānuku) appear in a creation myth explaining the origin of the world...In some South Island dialects, Rangi is called Raki or Rakinui...are the primordial parents, the sky father and the earth mother who lie locked together in a tight embrace. They have many children...

“Ranginui

Rangi ("Sky")

Raki ("Sky") in the South Island

Ranginui ("Great Sky")

Rangi-pōtiki ("Rangi the Lastborn"): possibly another name of Rangi, or a closely allied deity”

”Papatuanuku

Papa ("world")

Papatūānuku ("world separated"), (Earth), (Mother Earth)

Atea, husband of Papa (primordial parents) in Tuamotuan, Rarotongan and Marquesas genealogies

Wākea, husband of Papa, from Hawaii

Vatea, husband of Papa, father of gods and men in Mangaia, Cook Islands

Anu and Ki, Sumerian deities similar to Rangi and Papa

Uranus and Gæa, Greek deities similar to Rangi and Papa

Dyaúṣ-pitṛ and Pṛthvī-mātṛ, Vedic deities similar to Rangi and Papa”

Hawaiian religion

“Hawaiian religion encompasses the indigenous religious beliefs and practices of the Native Hawaiians. It is polytheistic and animistic, with a belief in many deities and spirits, including the belief that spirits are found in non-human beings and objects such as animals, the waves, and the sky.Hawaiian religion originated among the Tahitians and other Pacific islanders who landed in Hawaiʻi between 500 and 1300 AD.”

“One Hawaiian creation myth is embodied in the Kumulipo, an epic chant linking the aliʻi, or Hawaiian royalty, to the gods...After the birth of Laʻilaʻi, the woman, and Kiʻi, the man, the man succeeds at seducing and reproducing with the woman before the god Kāne has a chance, thereby making the divine lineage of the gods younger than and thus subservient to the lineage of man. This, in turn, illustrates the transition of mankind from being symbols for the gods (the literal meaning of kiʻi) into the keeper of these symbols in the form of idols and the like. The Kumulipo was recited during the time of Makahiki, to honor the god of fertility, Lono.”

THE HOME OF THE ANCESTORS

“The ancestors of the New Zealand Maoris have a definite ancestral home from which they came to New Zealand. This bears the name Hawaiki which is the same as Hawai'i...The Hawaiians, however, had one word for all outside lands. This was Kahiki or Tahiti. If any one sailed to any far-away place, east or west, he went to Kahiki...Ke-alohi-lani (the shining or glorious heaven) was the where the vivid imagination placed all things beautiful. It was the ancient land to be desired. Another interpretation, however, makes it the land of shining clouds, probably lit by volcanic fires, reflecting the glory of the burning flames.”

Hawaiki

“Hawaiki is the traditional Māori place of origin. The first Māori are said to have sailed to New Zealand from Hawaiki. And in Māori mythology Hawaiki is the place where Io, the supreme being, created the world and its first people...Hawaiki represents all that is good and powerful. It is a mystical place, where people turn into birds or descend to the underworld...In some traditions, the supreme being Io created Hawaiki. The gods are believed to live there, including the trickster demigod Māui, whose deeds are famous throughout Polynesia. The first woman, Hineahuone, was fashioned from the soil of Hawaiki.”

“S. Percy Smith...In his book Hawaiki, the original homeland of the Maori (1904), Smith advanced his theories as to the physical location of Hawaiki. He suggested that islands such as Savai‘i in Samoa, Hawaii and even Java near Indonesia were actually Hawaiki in localised forms...Some writers went further, arguing that Māori origins could be found in India and even Mesopotamia, the ancient region of present-day Iraq. Alfred K. Newman’s Who are the Maoris? (1912) is an example of a work that argues for the Indian origins of Māori people.”

(via Hawaiki | Te Ara: The Encyclopedia of New Zealand)

[theonyxpath]

Only the Cats Had Meetings Today- No Notes.

But we still have these, and I’ll be back next week with our usual tomfoolery:

  BLURBS!

  KICKSTARTER!

We’re headed to the half-way point, and are at that stage where we’re doing a lot of talking to bloggers and games sites! Please help us out by talking Monarchies of Mau up on social media and to your friends, especially your cat-loving friends. Don’t be shy, every mention helps!

We’ve already shot past Stretch Goals for an exclusive t-shirt, an Intro adventure, the first three Mau stories in a fiction anthology, a book of character write-ups featuring the characters submitted by backers, and our second adventure goal – this time by Dennis Detwiller – is headed toward happening with plenty more to come! If you get a chance, here’s the link: http://ift.tt/2rmHhAG

  ON SALE!

ON AMAZON:

We’re delighted to announce the opening of our ebook store on Amazon! You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle. Our initial selection includes these fiction anthologies: Vampire: the Masquerade‘s Endless Ages, Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition‘s Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage 2, Mage: The Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition‘s Truth Beyond Paradox, Chronicles of Darkness‘ God Machine Chronicle, Mummy: The Curse‘s Curse of the Blue Nile, and Beast: The Primordial‘s The Primordial Feast!

And this week, we’re releasing another six fiction books:

Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds

Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology

Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology

Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology

        Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://ift.tt/1ZlTT6z

You can now order wave 2 of our Deluxe and Prestige print overrun books, including Deluxe Mage 20th Anniversary, and Deluxe V20 Dark Ages!

    ON DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

Curated by Matthew McFarland, developer of Changeling: the Dreaming Twentieth Anniversary Edition and featuring authors such as Myranda Kalis, Wren Handman, and Peter Woodworth, this C20 Anthology of Dreams will go on sale in electronic/PDF and physical copy PoD formats this Wednesday on DTRPG.com!

        Now on DTRPG, the EX3 Tomb of Dreams Jumpstart PDF/PoD jumps up for sale!

http://ift.tt/2qdriZU

Once, in the time before the gods forgot their names, when the world was flat and floated on a sea of chaos, there was an age of gleaming cities, untamed wilderness, enlightened devils, greedy spirits, and mighty heroes. This was the age of the Exalted, champions empowered by the highest of gods.

Tomb of Dreams will jumpstart your group’s Exalted game—all you need to start playing Exalted Third Edition is this book, pencils, and 10-sided dice. Included here are the game’s core rules, five pregenerated characters, and a self-contained scenario that can start a new campaign or that Storytellers can use in an ongoing chronicle. And for groups that already have the Exalted Third Edition main rulebook, Tomb of Dreams will serve as an introduction for new players and a quick reference during play—anyone intimidated by that prodigious volume need only read Part 1 of this book to get started.

What legends will they tell of your deeds?

        Sailing out of the dark, the V20 Dark Ages Companion Advance PDF is now on sale on DriveThruRPG.com! http://ift.tt/2pX42dq

Travel the long roads and deep seas in search of power and experience danger, or tackle the wilderness to hunt monsters and face death. Settlements large and small dot the black expanse with the promise of sanctuary, life, and community. These bastions of civilization present cold comfort, when playing host to vampire warlords and sadistic Cainite faiths. Whether led by a Prince, a coordinated belief, or hounded by monsters from without and within — no domain is truly the same as another.

Dark Ages Companion includes:

• Domains scattered across the world, from small fiefdoms to massive cities. Bath, Bjarkarey, Constantinople, Rome, Mogadishu, and Mangaluru each receive coverage.

• Apocrypha including plot hooks, new Paths, and mysteries to explore in your games.

• A how-to guide on building a domain within your chronicle, including events and servants necessary to make a domain as functional or dysfunctional as you wish.

• A study on warfare in the Dark Ages period, so combat in your chronicles can gain authenticity and lethality.

        Bill Bridge’s new W20 novel, The Song of Unmaking, is on sale in PDF/ePub/PoD versions on DriveThruRPG.com: http://ift.tt/2qXQH9f and in ebook form on Amazon: http://ift.tt/2qpQM2V !

The fabric of reality is cracking. Fissures appear in thin air, glowing with balefire. Something is scratching on the other side, pressing, beginning to break through….

The Wyrm’s corruption finds its way into the hearts of humans and Garou alike. Even an ultra-rational techno-cratic scientist can fall sway to its lies. Channeling his hate and resentment through the most sophisticated machine ever created, Basil Czajka has turned a tool designed to peer deep into the heart of the quantum universe into a nursery for the hatching of a horror — a creature whose birth cry is destined to unmake Gaia’s Song of Creation.

The only ones standing in his way are One-Song, a broken-down old Theurge, and Lord Albrecht, whose heed-less anger might be the very weapon the enemy needs to crack the egg and free the Unmaker.

    The Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras Companion has arrived in PDF and PoD physical book versions at DriveThruRPG.com! http://ift.tt/2pygIL7

The Dark Eras Companion presents eleven new Eras for the Chronicles of Darkness. Stretching from Ancient Rome and Egypt through the Black Death, the Thirty Years War, the Reconstruction, and the Russian Revolution, the Companion showcases even more of the secret history of this eldritch world. Included in each era are “snapshots” of the various supernatural creatures, including vampires, changelings, mummies, and demons. Also included are lists of inspirational media to help you put these Eras in context for your troupe.

Open the Dark Eras Companion and take another look back in time.

    V20 Lore of the Bloodlines awaits in PDF and physical book PoD versions on DriveThruRPG.com!

http://ift.tt/2pj8UuA

Lore of the Bloodlines is a single volume (created via Kickstarter) that revisits some of the bloodlines in Vampire: The Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition, providing story hooks, character concepts, history, and bloodline-specific rules. The secrets of the Baali, Daughters of Cacophony, Gargoyles, Harbingers of Skulls, Kiasyd, Salubri, Samedi, and True Brujah are now yours.

Lore of the Bloodlines includes:

• The history, lore, and nightly practices of nine bloodlines, told from the perspective of the Kindred themselves.

• New combo Disciplines, powers, Merits, Flaws, and other rules specific to each bloodline.

• Revisions and updates of more classic Vampire: The Masquerade material to V20.

      Night Horrors: Conquering Heroes for Beast: the Primordial, PoD and PDF versions is now on sale on DTRPG.com!

http://ift.tt/2j7p7lO

This book includes: 

An in-depth look at how Heroes hunt and what makes a Hero, with eleven new Heroes to drop into any chronicle.

A brief look at why Beasts may antagonize one another, with seven new Beasts to drop into any chronicle.

Rules for Insatiables, ancient creatures born of the Primordial Dream intent on hunting down Beasts to fill a hunger without end, featuring six examples ready to use in any chronicle.

    From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Beneath the Skin (Demon and Skinchangers 1486-1502 Aztec Empire). Ahuitzotl sits on the throne at the height of the Aztec Empire, overseeing his sorcerer-priests’ sacrifices and the endless flower wars his jaguar and eagle warriors carry out in his name to keep the altars well-supplied with victims. The gears of the Aztec Empire turn smoothly and inexorably, but not everything is what it pretends to be. Skinchangers take the shapes of animals to run the wilds or bring down human prey, the Unchained cobble together identities from stolen lives, and stranger things still lurk in the deserts and jungles beyond the walls of Tenochtitlan.

On sale in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2p79i1O

  From the massive Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras main book, we have pulled this single chapter, Dark Eras: Into the Cold (Demon: the Descent 1961 Berlin). East Germany erects a wall against its Western counterpart, turning West Berlin into an island within its own country. As the Cold War heats up, demons find themselves the targets of increasing human scrutiny, and begin to realize that the God-Machine’s plans didn’t end with the War.

On sale now in PDF and physical copy PoD versions on DTRPG! http://ift.tt/2p70sBl

      CONVENTIONS!

Discussing GenCon plans. August 17th – 20th, Indianapolis. Every chance the booth will actually be 20? x 30? this year that we’ll be sharing with friends. We’re looking at new displays this year, like a back drop and magazine racks for the brochure(s).

In November, we’ll be at Game Hole Con in Madison, WI. More news as we have it, and here’s their website: http://ift.tt/RIm6qP

      And now, the new project status updates!

    DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM ROLLICKING ROSE (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

DtD Night Horrors: Enemy Action (Demon: the Descent)

The Realm (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Redlines

Kithbook Boggans (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Second Draft

V20 Dark Ages Jumpstart (Vampire: the Masquerade 20th Anniversary Edition)

GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Scion: Origins (Scion 2nd Edition)

Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

  Development

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

SL Ring of Spiragos (Pathfinder – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Ring of Spiragos (5e – Scarred Lands 2nd Edition)

Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition, featuring the Huntsmen Chronicle (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)

BtP Beast Player’s Guide (Beast: the Primordial)

M20 Cookbook (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

VtR Half-Damned (Vampire: the Requiem 2nd Edition)

Pugmire Pan’s Guide for New Pioneers (Pugmire)

  WW Manuscript Approval:

Book of Freeholds (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

    Editing:

Wraith: the Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition

Arms of the Chosen (Exalted 3rd Edition)

  Post-Editing Development:

      Indexing:

      ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Beckett’s Jyhad Diary 

W20 Pentex Employee Indoctrination Handbook – AD’d

Cavaliers of Mars

Wraith 20

W20Changing Ways

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Storypath Brochure

VDA Jumpstart

Scion Origins

C20 Jumpstart – AD’d

Ring of Spiragos – AD’d

Ex 3 Arms of the Chosen – AD’d & Contracted

  Marketing Stuff

  In Layout

M20 Art Book – In progress…

Prince’s Gambit – New Cards out for playtesting

Gen Con Stuff

Proofing

CtL Huntsmen Chronicle Anthology

M20 Book of Secrets – Josh inputting final corrections and page xx’s.

VTR: Thousand Years of Night

  At Press

Beckett Screen – Shipped to shipper.

Dark Eras: To the Strongest – PoD proof on the way.

EX3 Tomb of Dreams Jumpstart – Going on sale on DTRPG.com this week.

C20 Anthology – On sale this Wednesday.

C20 – Wrapping up errata and prepping for indexing.

Pugmire – Printing.

Pugmire Screen – Printing.

Pugmire Cards & Dice – Printing/manufacturing.

Wise and the Wicked PF & 5e – At Press

Dark Eras: The Wolf & Raven– Reviewing PoD proof.

Dark Eras: Three Kingdoms of Darkness – Reviewing PoD proof.

Dagger of Spiragos (5e) – Out to backers.

Dagger of Spiragos (PF) – Out to backers.

V20 Dark Ages Companion – Awaiting errata so I can wrap this up.

BtP Building a Legend – Out to backers last week, gathering errata.

      TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: Not so much “celebrate”, but certainly we commemorate today all of those who gave their lives in service to their countries.

[recentanimenews]

Why Horror Is Such An Underrated Aspect Of One Piece

  In the last few episodes of One Piece, Luffy and Zoro encountered Basil Hawkins, a fellow member of the Worst Generation and now a "Headliner" for Kaido's Beast Pirates. Hawkins, at least by himself, doesn't really seem like much of a physical threat. For the most part, he looks like he'd be happier buying leather bracelets and complaining about post 2007 Lamb of God albums than sailing the Grand Line. So when Zoro attacks him, for a second, it looks like Hawkins's head has been cleaved so hard that part of his skull was sent to another dimension.

    But then, using his Straw-Straw Fruit ability, he's able to transfer his wound to one of his crew members by way of the little straw dolls that he's created. And the fear and nervousness among his underlings is palpable. Working for Hawkins must be great. You get status, notoriety, and a lifetime supply of, umm, straw. But it also means that there is no chance of you not going down before your boss. Ten of you will be slain at random before Hawkins even takes a scratch. That's a little terrifying.

  And then, when it becomes clear that operation "nameless henchmen" isn't gonna work, Hawkins summons a giant straw entity with nails for fingers and an eerie cackle. And while I'm finally getting the Venn Diagram of One Piece villains and Batman: Arkham Asylum Scarecrow boss battles that I've always wanted, I also realized that, dang, One Piece does horror pretty well. 

    For the most part, One Piece is pretty swashbuckling. It's adventure on the high seas, and even when it's not especially light in tone, it feels like it's moving. Meanwhile, horror is usually about the inability to move. It's all claustrophobia and being trapped or menaced by some kind of evil. And the transitions between these two seemingly unrelated genres always make me remember a documentary about the making of the film JAWS where director Steven Spielberg talked about working through the score with composer John Williams. He wanted what he referred to as "pirate music" during a scene where Quint, Brody and Hooper pursue the massive shark, Elmer P. Jaws. 

  Now, this choice, on the surface, feels a little jarring because it's so nakedly exhilirating when compared to the methodical "dun dun dun dun" of the rest of the music. But it's a twist in tone that works, and suddenly and seamlessly, the horror film about a big fish that hates the Fourth of July becomes an adventure film about three dudes yelling at each other about barrels and boat engines, mainly due to the devotedness of the cast, the music, and Spielberg's skilled directorial hand.

  It's wonderful, and I think One Piece does this in reverse: it's normally such a spirited action-packed journey, but its extensions into horror feel utterly natural due to the worldbuilding and the atmosphere. And One Piece does this a lot, going back all the way to the Syrup Village arc when Captain Kuro used his claws to indiscriminately attack his own men because he was moving too fast to control just where he was slashing. In fact, much of the East Blue saga is marked by regular humans that live in fear of the supernaturally powerful individuals that are supposed to be taking care of them. Don Krieg would poison his whole crew if it meant settling a grudge. Arlong would massacre a town that he promised to protect if they slighted him. 

    There's not much of a leap between Crocodile impaling Luffy in their first battle and Michael Myers stabbing Bob to the door in the original Halloween. And Enel's "mantra" allowing him to become an invincible god figure that knows everything you'll do before you do it is straight out of a slasher villain's playbook as well.

  Thriller Bark is filled with horror tropes like zombies and bats and the loss of control due to having your shadow ripped from you. But even more specific than that, look at Perona's bear sidekick Kumacy. It's basically a big teddy bear, and while the most notable example of the "innocuous cute thing becomes scary" comes from the clown doll attacking Robbie in Poltergeist, it's become the basis of the entire Child's Play franchise. And the bread and butter of most modern horror film trailers is taking some non-threatening song like "Tiptoe Through The Tulips" and remixing it so that it fits footage of demonic possession.

    More recently, Doflamingo's ability allowed him to puppeteer people and force them to attack others, with the entire kingdom of Dressrosa being mauled by their absolutely jacked, sword-wielding king. And Whole Cake Island was just one horror scene after another with the Seducing Woods, Big Mom's rampages and the "disappearance" of Linlin's friends and Mother Carmel during Linlin's sixth birthday party. And all of this fits smoothly with loud fistfights, declarations of friendship, and plentiful jokes. 

    Horror isn't just an aspect in One Piece to shock the viewer or break up the lighthearted experience. It's a deeper exploration of the world itself, one where the inspirational "I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" attitude brushes right up alongside some of our most primal fears - the loss of control, the inability to escape, our own mortality, etc. The "pirate music" of JAWS wasn't chosen because it would jolt the audience. It was chosen because, amidst the horror, there was a fitting place for it. And the horror of One Piece isn't some outlying aspect that sticks out awkwardly. It's there because it's a crucial part of the One Piece world.

  What is your favorite horrific moment in One Piece? Has a One Piece chapter or episode ever scared you? Let me know in the comments!

    ------------------------------

  Daniel Dockery is a writer and editor for Crunchyroll. You should follow him on Twitter!

          By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[tuseriesdetv]

Guía de series: Estrenos y regresos de diciembre 2017

Este mes sí que es flojito flojito. ¡Que no llegamos a la decena! Luego llegará enero y nos bombardearán con estrenos. En fin, aprovechemos este mes para ponernos al día con las grandes series que nos ha dado este 2017 y, si queda tiempo, aquí tenemos alguna novedad.

¡Feliz diciembre!

Leyenda:

Verde: series nuevas. 

Rojo: series de las que haremos reviews semanales. 

Negro: regresos de otras series. 

Naranja: miniseries o series documentales. 

Amarillo: tvmovies, documentales, especiales o pilotos. 

Morado: season finales. 

Morado claro: midseason finales. 

*

Calendario de series

1 de diciembre: 

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (5T) en ABC

Dark (1T completa), Easy (2T) y Voyeur en Netflix

East Los High (series finale) en Hulu

3 de diciembre: Curb Your Enthusiasm (9T finale) en HBO

4 de diciembre: 

Supergirl (3T midseason finale) en The CW

Howards End en BBC One

5 de diciembre: The Flash (4T midseason finale) y Legends of Tomorrow (3T midseason finale) en The CW

6 de diciembre: 

Happy! (1T) en Syfy

Knightfall (1T) en History

Shut Eye (2T) en Hulu

Broad City (4T finale) y South Park (21T finale) en Comedy Central

7 de diciembre: 

Psych (revival especial Navidad) en USA Network

The Orville (1T finale) y Gotham (4T midseason finale) en FOX

Supernatural (13T midseason finale) y Arrow (6T midseason finale) en The CW

The Frankenstein Chronicles (2T finale) en ITV Encore

8 de diciembre: 

The Crown (2T) en Netflix

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (3T midseason finale) y Jane the Virgin (4T midseason finale) en The CW

10 de diciembre: 

Outlander (3T finale) en Starz

Berlin Station (2T finale) en Epix

White Famous (1T finale) en Showtime

11 de diciembre: 

Bancroft (1T) en ITV

Valor (1T midseason finale) en The CW

12 de diciembre: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (5T midseason finale) en The CW

13 de diciembre:

The Librarians (4T) en TNT

Empire (4T midseason finale) y Star (2T midseason finale) en FOX

Riverdale (2T midseason finale) y Dynasty (1T midseason finale) en The CW

Detectorists (series finale) en BBC Four

14 de diciembre: 

The Tunnel (3T y última) en Sky Atlantic

Bancroft (1T finale) en ITV

Detectorists (series finale) en BBC Four

15 de diciembre: 

The Ranch (2bT completa), Trollhunters (2T completa) y Wormwood en Netflix

Jean-Claude Van Johnson (1T) en Amazon

The Exorcist (2T finale) en FOX

16 de diciembre: Ten Days in the Valley (cambio de día) en ABC

17 de diciembre: 

A Christmas Story en FOX

Good Behavior (2T finale) en TNT

The Girlfriend Experience (2T finale) en Starz

Graves (2T finale) en Epix

Search Party (2T finale) en TBS

18 de diciembre:

Father Brown (especial Navidad) en BBC One

Birds of a Feather (especial Navidad) en ITV

19 de diciembre: The Indian Detective (1T) en Netflix

21 de diciembre: Peaky Blinders (4T finale) en BBC One

22 de diciembre: 

Fuller House (3bT) y Bright en Netflix

Gomorra (3T finale) en Sky Atlantic

25 de diciembre: 

Doctor Who (especial Navidad) en BBC One

Las chicas del cable (2T) en Netflix

Crooked House en Channel 5

29 de diciembre: La Mante en Netflix

*

Estrenos de series

Dark (Netflix)

La desaparición de dos niños en un pueblo alemán desbarata las vidas de cuatro familias, porque lo importante no es quién los ha secuestrado o dónde, sino cuándo. Muchos de los personajes esconden oscuros secretos en un mundo en el que es difícil entender el concepto del tiempo. Creada por Baran bo Odar y Jantje Friese. Diez episodios. Estreno: 1 de diciembre

A favor: Tiene una fotografía y una banda sonora perfectas y destacan sus interpretaciones.

En contra: Falta interés en el argumento. Intento fallido de imitación a los escandinavos.

Happy! (Syfy)

Tras morir y ser reanimado, un antiguo policía corrupto y actual matón a sueldo (Christopher Meloni; Law & Order: SVU, Wet Hot American Summer) comienza a ver a Happy (Patton Oswalt; BoJack Horseman, The Goldbergs), el amigo imaginario de una niña secuestrada a la que deberán salvar.  Les acompañan Patrick Fischler (Lost, Once Upon a Time), Medina Senghore, Ritchie Coster (Shades of Blue, True Detective), Lili Mirojnick (Cloverfield), Debi Mazar (Younger) y Michael Maize (Mr. Robot). Basada en la novela gráfica de Grant Morrison y Darick Robertson. Ocho episodios. Estreno: 6 de diciembre

A favor: Partimos de temporada corta con historia concreta. No puede ser peor que Imaginary Mary.

En contra: ¿Tendrá final abierto? No queremos.

Knightfall (History)

Los templarios tenían la misión de proteger el Santo Grial, la reliquia más preciada del cristianismo. La serie cuenta el fin de esta poderosa orden militar orquestado por el rey de Francia en 1307. Forman el reparto Tom Cullen (Weekend, Downton Abbey), Sam Hazeldine (Peaky Blinders, Resurrection), Simon Merrells (Spartacus: Blood and Sand, Dominion), Pádraic Delaney (The Tudors, The Wind That Shakes the Barley), Ed Stoppard (The Pianist, The Frankenstein Chronicles), Olivia Ross (War & Peace, Personal Shopper), Julian Ovenden (Downton Abbey, Smash), Sabrina Bartlett (Versailles, Da Vinci's Demons), Bobby Schofield (Black Sea) y Jim Carter (Downton Abbey, Los crímenes de Oxford). Creada por el actor Don Hanfield y el escritor Richard Rayner y producida por Jeremy Renner. Diez episodios.

Estreno: 6 de diciembre

A favor: La fe ciega y la brutalidad de los machos (¿?).

En contra: Para ser histórica, no es muy histórica. Inexacta, barata y mediocre. Ya la hemos olvidado.

Bancroft (ITV)

Elizabeth Bancroft (Sarah Parish; Broadchurch, W1A) es una respetada inspectora con un pasado oscuro. Ha dado su vida por la policía, confían en ella y la adoran y su ascenso a superintendente parece asegurado. Mientras lidera una operación para acabar con la banda Kamara, adopta métodos de dudosa moralidad, pero es difícil no aceptar sus decisiones sabiendo quién rige el mando en la banda. Cuando la detective Katherine Stevens (Faye Marsay, Game of Thrones, Fresh Meat) comience a investigar un caso abierto de asesinato, obligará sin pretenderlo a Bancroft a enfrentarse a sus demonios. Completan el reparto Linus Roache (Homeland, Vikings) y Amit Dhut. Creada y escrita por Kate Brooke (Mr. Selfridge). Cuatro episodios. Estreno: 11 de diciembre

A favor: Confían en ella si la han movido al canal principal. Se encargó para ITV Encore.

En contra: O quizás no les quedaba más remedio. Fue un cambio de última hora para retrasar el estreno de la miniserie Hatton Garden a 2018.

Jean-Claude Van Johnson (Amazon)

Van Damme está oxidado, pero aún puede utilizar su carrera actoral como tapadera para volver a trabajar como agente encubierto. Su nombre en clave es Johnson, y un encuentro con un antiguo amor (Kat Foster; 'Til Death, Your Family or Mine) le hará regresar. Le acompañarán Phylicia Rashad (Empire, The Cosby Show), Moises Arias (Hannah Montana, Ender's Game), Tim Peper y Bar Paly (NCIS: LA). Creada por David Callaham (Doom, The Expendables). Seis episodios. Estreno: 15 de diciembre

A favor: Meta. Todo lo meta es metavilloso.

En contra: ¿Damisela de veinte años menos? Tiene los mismos fallos que las pelis noventeras.

The Indian Detective (Netflix)

Doug D'Mello (Russell Peters), de ascendencia india, es un ambicioso policía de Toronto que sueña con convertirse en detective de homicidios, pero sus planes tendrán que esperar cuando sea injustamente suspendido. Durante el mes de baja, visita a su padre en Bombay, donde se verá envuelto en un caso local sintiéndose en peligro constante, además de fuera de lugar. Creada por Frank Spotnitz y Smita Bhide. Recién estrenada en Canadá. Cuatro episodios. Estreno: 19 de diciembre

A favor: William Shatner de villano. Fantasía.

En contra: La ligera sensación de que todo es de coña.

La Mante (Netflix)

Jeanne Deber (Carole Bouquet; Wasabi, For Your Eyes Only) es una famosa asesina en serie conocida como 'La mantis' que aterrorizó a Francia hace más de veinticinco años. Ahora, la policía le obliga a dar caza a un imitador y ella accede a colaborar con una única condición: que su hijo, que ahora es policía, trabaje junto a ella. Completan el cast Fred Testot, Jacques Weber, Pascal Demolon y Frédérique Bel (L'étudiante et Monsieur Henri, Qu'est-ce qu'on a fait au Bon Dieu). Creada por Alice Chegaray-Breugnot, Grégoire Demaison, Nicolas Jean y Laurent Vivier y dirigida por Alexandre Laurent. Fue emitida en Francia el pasado septiembre. Seis episodios. Estreno: 29 de diciembre

A favor: Exitosa emisión en la cadena francesa TF1.

En contra: Que Netflix pretenderá renovarla.

[whirlybirdwhat]

Sea of Monsters - Chapter 10

Brooks a skeleton but he’s pretty sure that some members of his crew are creepier than he ever will be. The Florian Triangle gives him an answer - in a way. 

---

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and authors notes! Gen, creepy, featuring all of the Straw Hats, multi-chapter story.

“The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few… unique traits.”

---------

Shanty - Brook

Brook may only be bones but that doesn’t mean his hairs don’t tingle around some of his crewmates Yohoho!

Jokes aside, however, it is true that when he first met Luffy, wondrous as though human company was, there was something utterly terrifying about the boy. Something that made his bones rattle in fear, made them rattle far more than anything on Thriller Bark ever did.

He got the same feeling around the swordsman as well, and the navigator, and the cook, and the sniper.

Funnily enough, he had no fear of the man made out of metal or the monstrous doctor.

The answer is there, he knows it is, but for once he can’t tell if the answer is simply hidden by the fog in his brain (50 years of solitude… of only the fog for company – such a lonely life…) or if something… something moreis shielding the true nature of his companions from him.

By the time Zoro wins his shadow back, he has learned not to care. These are his friends, this is his captain, for heaven’s sake – and he himself is a talking, undead skeleton. There is no reason to fear them, for none of them would dare maliciously hurt a friend (and the lengths they would go for one… Brook has not forgotten what he saw at Thriller Bark, when a swordsman stood up a tyrant)

Still. He is curious as to what had made his very soul shudder when he first met this crew, hiscrew.  

He unwittingly finds his answer in song.

It’s an old shanty, one he can’t remember the origin of, or when his fingers first lent itself to its tune. It’s not a happy song, nor a sad one – one instead for quiet moments, spent alone. It would hum almost like a lullaby if not for the haunting lyrics, odd in nature and odder in reality. It’s not a particularly nice song.

It’s perfect for the night watch on a clear blue night, when the rest of the crew is sleepy and any rowdy song will have them up in moments to Luffy’s cheer.

Brook starts humming, lyrics unspoken as to not wake his crewmates, but vibrant in his mind.

I’ve sailed toward the North,

Felt the chill in my bones

I’ve sailed toward the West

My soul wanting a throne

And I’ve sailed toward the South

Where the red sun shone

But the East – oh the East

Yes sir, I’ve been there

My home is there, fellow devils beware!

And suddenly a passing conversation flies by in Brook’s mind, stirred to life by the words of the song.

“Ah. Miss Robin! May I trouble you for an answer?”

“Certainly, Brook.”

“Where exactly do our fellow crew members hail from? They’re such characters!”

“Ah. I am from Ohara, in the West Blue. Franky is from Water 7 and Chopper is from Drum, both in the Grand Line.”

“And the others?”

“Mm. They’re from the East Blue.” She looks at him calculating, as if gaging his reaction – though why, Brook doesn’t know. His memory of the world has grown dim in the past years after all.

The East Blue…

(The Sea of Monsters – )

And Brook has an answer, memories of the sea finallyreturning, forgotten over his solitude.

(The Rumbar Pirates had once passed through the corners of the East, in a different era, far before rumors of demonic Pirate Kings were even a glimmer in history’s eye. They had still made every child smile with their wondrous music – no matter if said children had fangs or horns or wings or feathers or scales, and no matter how unsettled the crew were.

It is something he had forgotten, lost in the haze of Thriller Bark’s own similar terror.

He had wondered why the foggy air felt familiar there – as if there was something thunderous just a hairsbreadth away, just as it was in that particular sea.)

“Yohohoho!”The skeleton laughs softly, pausing in his tune. So that is why Luffy unsettles him so.

A demon. Brook has been called that. He knows others among this crew have been as well – they’re all out of the ordinary after all. (A skeleton, a cyborg, a reindeer, a devil child, a demon, a demon, and three more -) How strange it must be to truly be one…

Inwardly, he knows he should be screaming. His crewmates flash in his mind, the oddness of each coming to life.

(Eyes from a one-eyed swordsman, glowing red when they shouldn’t be there at all, the brush of feathers on unfeeling bone when all he should feel is skin, an unsettling cold, as if some tempest had buried itself in his heart, fire burning with the passion of hell, limbs long and lanky and sharp edges paired with serrated teeth – blood, so much blood, everywhere in his dreams)

He cannot bring himself to feel terror though and continues the song, one that he was now sure was whispered in his ear from the creatures of the Florian Triangle (for of course, the supernatural cannot simply be confined to one sea… how many times had he heard their (who are they?) wailing calls across unnaturally still waters?)

And I’ll tell you this my dear,

You’ve got nothing at all to fear,

For when a demon’s got a pirate crew,

We jolly sing of ol’ - Bink’s brew!