#i fear for my activity page after i wake up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedemoninme141 · 1 year

Text

Blade of Miquella Chapter 2: Craving For Woe.

Summary: Wednesday used you for her investigation, will you hate her for it? Part 1 - HERE 👈👈👈

Corpse after corpse, left in my wake. As I awaited... his return.

Startled awake by the cacophony of terrified screams of students that pierced the air, you bolted upright from your slumber. The disconcerting noise echoed through the dormitory, urging you into immediate action. Hastily, you rushed towards the balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the commotion.

And there he stood, an ominous figure draped in a tattered cloak, his face distorted and aged beyond comprehension. The unsettling sight of the old man, with his peculiar top hat and gnarled staff, sent a chill down your spine. His malevolent gaze locked onto you, and in an instant, he bellowed with a voice that seemed to resonate from the depths of despair.

"I will expunge you abominations from this EARTH!"

On your journey to becoming more approachable, the bench under a maple tree became your place near the quad to spend your free time.

This tranquil spot became your sanctuary, where you sought refuge during your free time. With a book often cradled in your hands, you observed the bustling students as they chatted and played, Enid occasionally joining you for brief moments. However, you made a conscious effort not to grow too attached to her, fearing that your inner demon might inadvertently harm those close to you. However today you were alone as you wanted to be, you needed to read the book again, to find any information about the gold needle.

While your mind was taken by the horrifying contents of The Lands Between, Lost in the grim passages, you remained oblivious to the presence of another soul drawing near. A gentle shadow cast over you, and when you looked up, there she stood: the braided girl. The sun's rays danced upon her, creating a radiant halo around her form, and without glimpsing the specifics of her features, your heart seemed to halt for an instant.

"Would you mind if I sit here?"

Trying to collect your thoughts, you hesitated for a moment before giving her a soft smile,

"Of course, you can sit here." You said as you moved a little to give her more than enough space. She took the place beside you and got her own book out and started reading. Minutes ticked by in companionable silence, the stillness of the moment punctuated only by the faint rustling of pages turning and students chattering. you never thought you would be bothered by tranquillity. You glanced a little to her as you saw her occupied by her book, You shifted a bit away from Wednesday, the fear of touch coming back to you as you wanted your gloves back again.

"You aren't like the other students." She broke the silence, You look at her, her eyes still on her book.

"What do you mean?"

"Unlike the other students, you don't seem to crave attention. You seem to be a quiet one."

"I suppose I've always been more comfortable observing from the sidelines," you replied, offering a small smile. "The noise and attention can be overwhelming sometimes."

Wednesday glanced up from her book, her striking eyes meeting yours briefly before returning to the pages. "I can understand that," she said softly. "Sometimes, it's easier to navigate the world when you're not constantly in the spotlight."

You nodded, feeling a sense of understanding between the two of you. There was something oddly comforting about the way she spoke. Perhaps it was the sincerity in her voice or the calm aura she exuded. You found yourself wanting to know more about her, even though you had just met. As the conversation continued, Wednesday skillfully steered it towards your interests and activities on campus, subtly asking about the classes you took, the people you associated with, and the places you frequented. it all felt like harmless small talk. For now...

As the days turned into weeks, you found yourself drawn deeper into Wednesday Addams' enigmatic world. What had begun as small talks soon blossomed into moments spent together, seeking refuge in the library's shadowy corners or the solitude of quiet nooks around the campus. In her company, you discovered a unique solace, unlike any other friendship you had known before. Wednesday, with her mastery of morbid tales and dark secrets, had a way of delving into the most haunting memories and embracing the most macabre thoughts with an uncanny sense of ease. Her willingness to share her own past, including stories of her old pet scorpion Nero, only deepened the connection between you. As the whispers of mysterious murders echoed through Nevermore Academy, your inner turmoil intensified. The increasing danger surrounding the school made you apprehensive that Wednesday might suspect you or, worse yet, fear you. The thought of losing this newfound companionship terrified you, and so you kept your own secrets tightly locked away, shielding them from Wednesday. She had her investigation to worry about.

Every moment spent with Wednesday became a constant need for you, and slowly, you found yourself falling for her. You were drawn to her emotionless raven-black eyes, captivated by her devilish smile whenever she talked about her mischiefs. The curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever she led you into the very woods you were afraid of, yet you followed without hesitation, simply because it was for her. Your heart fluttered with each shared adventure.

One week before the Raven, you decided to take a leap of faith and confess your feelings to her. It was a daunting task, for you feared that you might ruin the beautiful friendship you had with her. But you needed to know, to understand if there was a chance for something more. So, with butterflies in your stomach, you poured your heart out to her, laying bare your emotions, your vulnerability, and your desire to be more than just friends, a single test, for you to be free enough to finally trust her with your darkness and as life never goes how you expect it to be,

Wednesday accepted your invitation to the Raven, indicating that she was willing to give you a try. Her enigmatic nature made it difficult to gauge her true feelings, but you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something special between you.

So when she came to you two days later, telling you about her doubt about Xavier, you were stunned. However, she provided enough alibies to back up her claims. But your heart still couldn't believe that Xavier could even do any of those things. So to at least prove his innocence to her, you provided what she needed. You were so blinded by your feelings about Wednesday, you couldn't see the importance of a friend's secret. So you showed her his Art Shack's location. You were sure that Wednesday would not find anything to put any blame on Xavier, however when you entered his shack, you weren't so sure anymore, There were paintings of a monster. You read about this monster in your book about The Lands Between. A Hyde.

"I supposed every artist needs a muse." She said picking up some more drawings.

"This is the monster that killed Rowan, Y/n. This is what I saw there." She told you.

"Xavier, you just became that much more interesting," she said.

"Let's go, Y/n," Wednesday urged, trying to take your hand and move you from the shack.

However, you remained rooted to the spot, your eyes locked on the haunting painting. Wednesday noticed the look of fear in your eyes, a look she had often seen in the eyes of her previous victims at her previous school. Strangely, she didn't find this particular reaction as satisfying as she usually did. Instead, she felt uneasy seeing the fear in your eyes. She herself couldn't understand why. So she took her focus onto what really scared you. Following your eyes, she saw another painting.

This one wasn't a monster, it was just a woman, an armored brown dress, a golden winged helmet and a long sword tainted by blood as if it was used to slaughter thousands. She stood with a menacing aura, surrounded by what appeared to be blood and crimson flowers. The sight intrigued Wednesday, stirring her curiosity about the woman in the painting. However, she knew that she had more pressing matters to attend to. So she dragged you out of there.

Xavier noticed your sudden friendship with the dark girl. A few days later, he confronted you about it.

"I guess you found a new best friend," he remarked with a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"What do you mean? You are my best friend, you always were and always will be," you replied, trying to reassure him.

"But you seem to prefer spending more time with her. You don't even come to my art shack anymore. I even asked for your help and you didn't come. You kinda missed my surprise for you," he explained, his voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and concern.

Surprise? You wracked your brain, trying to remember the event he mentioned. Then, realization dawned on you. He definitely wanted to show you his painting of HER. He must've drawn it for you.

"Oh, that night last Tuesday... I'm so sorry, Xavier. I had some urgent work to do, and I couldn't make it. I meant to tell you but..."

You will come with me to find some important clues in the woods. Wednesday's voice echoed through your mind.

"You never asked why I needed your help," he interrupted gently, his eyes searching for an explanation.

You shifted uncomfortably, knowing that the truth might hurt him.

"I had something else on my mind," you offered vaguely.

Xavier peered into your eyes, sensing that there was more to your story than you were letting on. "You don't have to lie, you know?" he said softly. "I thought we were best friends, that we could share everything."

Guilt washed over you as you struggled to find the right words. You were torn between keeping Wednesday's secret and being honest with Xavier. But the weight of Wednesday's trust weighed heavily on your conscience, and you couldn't bear to betray her.

Before you could respond, Xavier continued, his tone tinged with concern. "She's using you, Y/n. Wednesday isn't the type of girl to have genuine feelings for anyone. She's just using you for her investigation into the murders in the woods. She's even delusional enough to think I might be the killer."

His words left you stunned and confused. You knew deep down in your heart that Xavier couldn't be the killer, then why weren't you defending him against Wednesday?

"Y/n.. do you think I am the killer?"

"No... I would never. Look, Xavier... I am not feeling good right now... I should go. We can talk later... Right?"

He sighed.

"Okay. Take care of yourself, Y/n."

As you walked hurriedly, a torrent of emotions swirled within you, leaving you unsure whose words to trust. Regret for Xavier weighed heavily on your heart, yet an inexplicable need to have faith in Wednesday tugged at your soul. In just a few short weeks, Wednesday had ignited emotions within you that you had never known before. The urgency to talk to her grew, hoping that you could somehow convince her of Xavier's innocence. So you walked towards her room to find her, feeling both anxious and determined. You had never ventured into her room, just as she had never visited yours, but you knew she shared the room with Enid, and pretty much everyone knew where Enid resided. As you traversed the campus, a sense of foreboding gnawed at your mind, tempting you to turn back and abandon your pursuit. The fear of how Wednesday might react to your opposition paralyzed you, and you hesitated. However, fate intervened, as you found her dorm door wide open – Enid's bad habit exposed. Although you aren't the overhearing type, you always seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,

From inside, you could hear Enid's voice, tinged with anger, and you hesitated outside the door. Wednesday was looking at a large board,

Thick red strings crisscrossed the board, connecting disparate elements with eerie precision. It was as if you were witnessing the inner workings of her uncanny mind, an intricate dance of thoughts and deductions. Different photos reside there, houses like Xavier's Shack, The Gates Mansion and some other places. You recognized some of them as crime scenes. There were also Xavier, Larissa, Rowan, and Sherrif Galpin however one photo piqued your interest... Your photo,

Why was Wednesday relating you to her investigation? Curiosity warred with guilt as you felt like you were trespassing on their secrets, yet you couldn't help but eavesdrop for your own sake.

"You can't just play with her feelings, Wednesday. I don't even know her, but even I feel bad about what you are doing to her," Enid's voice carried concern and frustration.

"There is a lot at stake here, I am trying to save people's life too, Even though I like the idea of death by a Hyde however countless others don't. Her single life can't be worth more than the hundreds my investigation will save, I am merely putting her in danger, just using her connection to Principle Weems and Xavier." Wednesday's reply was cool and calculated

"Why would you... Ugh, whatever. But then why would you accept her confession if you don't even feel the same? It is wrong, Wednesday," Enid pressed further.

"I had to accept otherwise she wouldn't have helped me in finding this critical intel about Xavier, He is the murderer and I know it, his Alibi checks out with every piece of the puzzle."

"I am not worried about Xavier, I am worried about the lone girl." Enid sighed.

" I will leave her alone once I am done with my investigation."

"So that's it? You are going to leave her after getting her attached to you."

"I am a raven Enid, I don't feel any emotions, not for anyone, Not for her. I simply needed her assistance in my investigations, that's all." Wednesday said without hinting at any tone of emotions, you didn't sense any tone of regret, she simply said it as it was already planned without any hesitation.

As you listened to their conversation, a sense of betrayal washed over you. You had opened your heart to Wednesday, and now it seemed like your feelings were nothing more than tools for her investigation. Tears welled up in your eyes as you quietly stepped away from the open door, feeling vulnerable and hurt. A whirlwind of emotions engulfed you, leaving you unsure of your next move. The web of secrets and lies surrounding Wednesday had ensnared you, and you were left to grapple with the tangled mess of emotions that now filled your heart.

Revelations of that day still haunt you, the sorrow of the sudden betrayal, however, you accepted this as a punishment because you yourself betrayed your first and only friend's trust. Who now is in jail because of you.

And even after all Wednesday did, you couldn't exactly bring yourself to hate her. Now there is a mad wizard on the loose burning down the entire school.

Your fear, Your guilt, Your regret, Your Woe are beneficial for HER.

Maybe it's time, you use them.

You looked at the armor stored in the glass cage in your room.

The sword that belonged to her. Her voice echoed in your ears.

Heed my words. I am Malenia. Blade of Miquella. And I have never known defeat.

PART 3 👉 HERE

#wednesday addams angst #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday angst #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x fem reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x y/n #angst #death #betrayal

85 notes · View notes

ravenya003 · 4 months

Text

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Nightmares, S01E10

Here’s my lukewarm take on Nightmares: it’s way too soon for a What Do They Fear Episode. This opinion is borne out by the fact that the fears depicted here – clowns, stage fright, being in your underwear in front of class, not studying for a test – are all pretty superficial stuff. There’s no real psychological depth to these characters as yet, which is why this premise works so much better in later episodes like Fear Not and Restless.

By the time season four rolls around, we’ve spent enough time with Buffy, Willow, Xander and Giles to really delve into their psyches, in which their fears manifest as being alone, inadequacy, and a lack of control. This early, the only fear that really strikes a chord is Giles seeing Buffy’s grave.

It also strikes me for the first time that many of the “villains” in season one are just normal people whose anxieties and/or ambitions are amplified and turned into physical threats by “mystical Hellmouth energy.” I’m thinking of the hyenas, and what Giles calls “the nightmare realm,” and (in the next episode) Marcie’s invisibility. It gives everything more of a fairy tale quality than the show had in later seasons.

It starts with a good old fashioned Buffy dream, in which she’s edging her way through the Master’s lair, only to be caught by the throat and strangled by him. Standard nightmare stuff, though it’s interesting for two reasons: firstly that it makes for a fairly accurate premonition of what happens when she does face the Master in two episodes’ time (especially the fact that she freezes up) and secondly that it sets up Giles’s fear that Buffy’s nightmares will be particularly difficult to deal with if they manifest in the real world.

Also, she’s in pigtails, which I can only assume was a deliberate choice to emphasis her youth and innocence.

In the waking world, Buffy is excited about the imminent arrival of her father from L.A. Ah, Hank Summers, the dad who will soon cease to exist. I have plenty of things to say about this character, but for now the most important plot-point is that Buffy blames herself for her parents’ separation. That’s a standard fear for children of divorce, but no doubt exacerbated when you’re sneaking out every night to hunt vampires.

Willow also mentions that her parents don’t fight, they only glare at each other if they’re angry. I’m always fascinated when either Willow or Xander mention their parents, as they’re such an infinitesimal part of the show and their children’s lives that they may as well not exist at all. Yet by the sounds of it, Willow’s parents have a pretty good marriage.

The trio head into class, where Ms. Tishler is leading a lesson on “active listening.” Another of those Sunnydale teachers who are unknowingly dealing with a Hellmouth beneath their feet, yet diligently teaching their students regardless of the danger. I salute them.

(I’m sorry these reviews are so weird, in which I’m more interested in tidbits about Willow’s parents and the Sunnydale High faculty than any of the creepy supernatural stuff).

A nerdy student called Wendell (give a kid a name like that, and of course he’ll end up a nerd) opens his book and starts screaming in horror as tarantulas crawl out of the pages and over his hands and face.

As everyone panics, Buffy notices a young boy standing at the door of the classroom and looking straight at her, who apologizes quietly before disappearing.

I wonder, was Billy looking for Buffy specifically, or was he simply drawn to her? Presumably the latter since he has no idea that she’s the Slayer, but I like the idea that in his dreamscape there’s a certain energy or light to her that indicates she’s someone who can help him. Or maybe it’s the presence of the Hellmouth he’s attracted to, since we’re constantly seeing him at the school.

After the opening credits we get a scene with the Master and the Anointed One in the underground church. They don’t figure into this story much, but given that the season finale is coming up fast, it was a good idea to remind the audience of their existence. We haven’t seen them since Angel.

The scene’s other purpose is to lay out the central theme of the episode, which is fear. According to the Master, fear is the most powerful force in the human world, and he describes something happening above as a “new powerful, psychic force.” It’s interesting that he knows this, though I suppose it makes sense that he’s tapped into the mystical energies of the Hellmouth.

We get a nice pan up back to the school, where the trio find Giles in the library to ask him if he’s researched anything about spiders crawling out of books. Giles looks a little disconcerted, having gotten lost in the stacks, and suggests they ask Wendell himself about the significance of yesterday’s occurrence.

Poor Wendell still looks rather traumatized, and explains that he’s not afraid of spiders, quite the contrary – he loves them. He once had a huge collection of specimens, only for them to perish when he left his brother responsible for their wellbeing while he was at camp. Ever since then, he’s been plagued by a recurring nightmare about the spiders taking revenge for his dereliction of care. Eerily, what happened yesterday followed the events of his dream exactly.

For some reason, Buffy has a lollipop in this scene, which reminds me of the pigtails she had in her nightmare. Again, this episode seems very intent on emphasizing her youth.

While this conversation is going on, Cordelia walks past and reminds Buffy that they have a history test. Having completely forgotten, Buffy rushes after her and tries to complete the answers, only for the clock to speed up and the class to finish before she’s even had the chance to write her name.

This is a fairly standard nightmare for a high schooler, but I can’t help but feel it would have been more appropriate for Willow?

Elsewhere, the little boy that Buffy glimpsed outside the classroom watches as another student slips down into the basement for a cigarette, ineffectively warning her that she shouldn’t go down there. The girl (Laura) lights up, and is promptly attacked by a terrifying figure with a deformed face and a club arm, who mutters “lucky nineteen” as he assaults her.

The episode cuts to Buffy and Giles in good old Sunnydale Hospital, looking for Laura’s room. I actually really like this scene when you consider it in relation to the events of The Prom and Buffy’s Class Protector Award. This sort of thing, in which she gently asks questions of the Sunnydale student body and acts like she’s going to do something about whatever is going on, is the reason why she was honoured at the awards ceremony three years later.

Though attention was never drawn to it actually happening, people like Laura were clearly paying attention when it came to what Buffy was up to during such times. In this case, she says to Laura: “you can tell us [anything that happened], even if it may seem weird.” In response, Laura tells them that her assailant said: “lucky nineteen” as he was beating her.

As Buffy and Giles leave Laura to her lifelong trauma, a doctor draws their attention to another patient who’s still in a coma, who is apparently the first victim of whoever attacked Laura. As he points out, whoever did this used the same M.O. each time.

Willow and Xander are starting to put the pieces together, mentioning that Wendell’s dream came true... but how does Laura fit into that? Did she have a nightmare about getting beaten up? (Little do they know, but the Ugly Man is the outlier in this ongoing phenomenon, a manifestation of Billy’s fear as opposed to everyone else’s). They enter a classroom, and... Xander is suddenly naked sans his underwear in front of the entire class.

They say this is one of the most common dreams a person can have, along with being chased and having your teeth fall out, though I have to confess I’ve never had it myself. (The other two though? Definitely).

Over in the library, Giles is struggling with the fact he can no longer read, though Buffy spots a picture on the front page of a local newspaper and recognizes the boy as the one she’s been seeing around campus. According to the article, his name is Billy Palmer and he was found beaten and unconscious after his Little League game a week ago. He’s the coma victim from the hospital, and the number on his uniform is nineteen.

Giles suggests astral projection, but before the conversation can go further, Hank Summers turns up. Buffy probably should have been suspicious that he came all the way into the school instead of picking her up at their designated meeting point, but is too excited to notice.

More significantly, this is the first – and to the best of my knowledge – the only time that Giles interacts with Buffy’s father (and it’s not even really him!) Again, I’ll have more to say later about Hank and the way this show neglected to use him properly.

In the episode’s most gutting scene, Hank and Buffy take a seat outside, after which Hank proceeds to put voice to Buffy’s deepest fears: that she’s responsible for his and Joyce’s separation, and that she’s a terrible daughter who he hates hanging out with. Buffy’s face slowly crumples, and you get the sense that this isn’t just about being rejected by her father, but her abandonment issues in general. Though later episodes will explore Buffy’s deep fear of being alone, for now it’s enough that a teenage girl is being told the very thing she dreads most from someone who should care for and nurture her.

The calm and reasoned way he lays out the “truth” to Buffy is quite possibly the most harrowing thing about this entire scene.

Back in the library, the others Scoobies have finally realized that their nightmares are coming true. (Not their dreams, for as Giles says: “That would be a musical comedy version of this.” I mean... sometimes these early lines are so accidentally funny in light of later episodes). According to Giles, Billy is the cause of all this, having brought the nightmare realm over to the waking world when he astral projected out of his body while still in his coma.

As explanations go, it’s a little wishy-washy, but hey, Giles cites: “living on a Hellmouth” as cause enough.

A desolate Buffy spots Billy and follows him into the gym, where he’s clearly very reluctant to talk about what happened after his baseball game. Before she can get anything relevant out of him, the Ugly Man attacks. Buffy engages him in a fight, but he’s too strong even for her, and she and Billy make their escape out a side door.

The others are desperately trying to find Buffy, for as Giles points out – she dreams about deeply terrifying things that nobody wants to see manifest in the real world (this will be important in just a couple of scenes). Willow rather stupidly heads back down into the basement where Laura was attacked, and ends up onstage in a production of Madama Butterfly, stricken with stage fright. Xander follows a trail of candy bars into the vandalized auditorium and is attacked by the clown that terrorized him on his sixth birthday.

Meanwhile, Buffy is trying to get back to the library, only for geography to start messing around, taking her and Billy to a baseball diamond instead. Looking over the field, Billy divulges a little about what happened to him: that it was his fault he lost the game. Buffy points out that there are eight people on a baseball team – it’s never just one player’s fault.

The Ugly Man appears behind them, and they duck through the bushes to get to the cafeteria, only to end up in a cemetery. At night. Looking around, Buffy spots an open grave and is horrified when the Master appears, informing her that it’s her fear that has brought him there. “I am free because you fear it.”

Now, I’m not entirely sure whether this IS the Master in the flesh, who really is free (the episode has already established Buffy is having nightmares about him and that the Master is cognizant of something strange happening in Sunnydale) or just an hallucination, but he’s real enough to push Buffy into the open grave. Billy has scarpered, and the Master begins to shovel dirt on top of Buffy as she screams in terror.

I get it. Being buried alive is one of my top five fears.

And then... we don't see the Master again for the rest of the episode. It's a little odd given all the build-up.

The others Scoobies are faring a little better: Willow flees the stage and Xander doubles back to punch out the clown. (Heck, compared to Buffy, these two had it easy). Reuniting with Giles, the three look around to see people running around in a panic and helicopters hovering over the city. According to Giles: “in a few hours reality will fold completely into the realm of nightmares” and their only solution is to wake Billy from his coma. I’m not entirely sure how he knows either of these things, but it makes storytelling logic so we'll go with it.

Across the road, they notice the cemetery shrouded in darkness, and assume that Buffy is there. They come across a fresh grave with her name inscribed on the stone, and Giles identifies it as his fear: the death of his Slayer. (It plays out like the death of a child, and I have to believe it’s a deliberate contrast to how Hank spoke to his daughter earlier in the episode).

He lays his hand on the fresh earth, and naturally that’s the cue for Buffy’s hand to shoot up through the soil and grab his wrist. Giles helps pull her out, but Buffy has the visage of a vampire. Which brings us to the most interesting and infuriating part of the entire episode.

The transformation is a little random, since Buffy has never before made any mention of being afraid that she might get changed into a vampire... and she never will again. Yet it seems like a fascinating angle to take, as it begs the question: what exactly does she fear about this scenario? Dying? Losing her soul and identity? Becoming a creature of evil against her will?

The answer would have to be “no” to that last one, since if she has had a recurring nightmare of becoming a conscienceless vampire, then she would now be a conscienceless vampire. That could have been an interesting plot twist, with the rest of the Scoobies having to deal with Buffy suddenly being a bloodthirsty fiend who has no qualms about killing them (although she does float the possibility of this happening when she tells them: “I’m getting hungry.”)

And yet becoming an instrument of evil against her will vibes a little with what happens in the season finale, in which the Master points out that Buffy’s attempt to stop him from escaping the church is the very thing that provides him with the blood he needs to break out, and as Giles has already pointed out, Buffy poses a greater threat in this particular nightmare dimension due to the intensity of the dreams she has. It follows that a Slayer getting changed into a vampire would naturally be even more of a threat than your average run-of-the-mill vamp.

And yet, the show never returns to this particular well. This is the first and last time we grapple with the idea of Buffy as a vampire – in fact, the show never really delves into the horror of a loved one becoming a vampire and having to deal with the ramifications of that, period. Off the top of my head, there’s Gunn’s sister, Jesse, Ford, and bizzaro-world Willow... and that’s about it, right?

All things considered, I’m surprised that across the seven-year run of this show there was never any mention of any Slayer at any point in time being turned into a vampire and how the Watchers Council had to deal with that. I mean, it had to have happened at some point, right? Vampires would be aware of the possibility and the potential advantages to attempting it. And it would be a risk that the Council would have pre-emptive measures in place to deal with, surely.

I am aware that Sunday, the vampire in the first episode of season four, was originally conceived as a former Slayer that had been turned into a vampire, only for the idea to be scrapped when it turned out to be too complicated for a single episode, and I’ve always been disappointed the writers never returned to explore that premise. Heck, a Slayer!Vampire would have made a great seasonal villain.

Basically, the fear Buffy has of becoming a vampire (or more broadly, harming people through her attempts to save them) or the notion of a Slayer that’s turned into a vampire, are two interesting conceits that are sadly never returned to.

Okay, I’ve gotten way off track.

Giles tells her that waking up Billy is their best bet at making all of this stop, and so they rush to the hospital, where the doctor from before is clearly suffering a hallucination of having crippled hands. Outside the window, giant wasps are attacking Sunnydale.

Billy’s astral projection is in the room with them, refusing to do anything but hide from the Ugly Man, who is slowly approaching down the corridor. Imbued with vampire strength as well as her own, Buffy now has the ability to overpower him. Once he’s unconscious and slumped against the wall, Buffy calls Billy over: he has to do the rest. Though still afraid, he faces his fear and peels off the Ugly Man’s face as though it’s a mask. Bright light streams out...

And the next moment, everything is back to normal.

It’s at this point that Billy’s Little League coach walks through the door, ostensibly to check on the patient, but (as everyone has already figured out) to make sure his victim is still unconscious. That’s remarkably good timing, but we’ll let it slide since there’s only a few minutes of the episode left to go. Buffy confronts the coach, Billy confirms it was him that beat him up after practice, and Giles and Xander prevent him from making a run for it.

So all’s well that ends well. At some point, which could be that same day (since Hank picks up Buffy from school as scheduled) or weeks later (considering Willow mentions that the evil coach is now “behind bars where he belongs”) Buffy heads off to enjoy the weekend with her father, and Willow decides to torture herself by asking Xander if he still found Buffy attractive while she was a vampire. The answer is yes, of course.

Miscellaneous Observations:

This was another strange episode, and one that messes with reality in a way that’s unusually trippy for this show – it usually sticks to more tangible supernatural threats, or gives a clearer reason as to why bizarre widespread phenomena is happening (for instance, everyone losing their voices in Hush is the work of a specific group of demons; everyone singing and dancing in Once More With Feeling is because Xander cast a spell). Here, the reasoning is very vague – a kid got beaten into a coma, and thanks to “Hellmouth energy,” he managed to drag his nightmares (and everyone else’s) into the real world after he starting astral projecting.

I mean, there’s a fairy tale rationality to that, but it’s still very part and parcel of season one’s “everything is a metaphor, so don’t worry about the logistics” vibe. It’s the depiction of human evil – such as the zookeeper and the bullies, or what the coach did to Billy, or everyone ignoring Marcie – that is made manifest by the Hellmouth, without the need for any actual monsters. That type of Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode goes missing after this season, and I have to say I miss it.

Given that everyone remembered the spiders that attacked Wendell, one has to assume that everyone also remembers the escalating chaos afterwards. Do authorities chalk it down to mass hallucinations? We’ll never know, as along with all the on-line drama that ensued with Moloch’s internet shenanigans, it never gets mentioned again.

On that note, I suppose we have to assume that the version of Hank that Buffy interacted with early on wasn’t actually him, as there’s no indication he remembers doing such a cruel thing to his daughter when he picks her up later (and the fake!Hank turned up earlier than Buffy expected, which is perhaps a clue that he was just Buffy’s projection of her fears).

The cops were noticeably absent in this episode, as was Angel (it’s a shame we don’t find out what he has nightmares about) and Billy’s parents. Seriously, where the heck were they?

I’ve only just realized that many of the fears on display in this episode were foreshadowed in The Puppet Show: there Xander jumps at the sight of a mime, Willow freezes up when she’s on-stage, and even Cordelia freaks out about her hair.

Speaking of, she’s back on comic comeuppance duty for this episode, first by having her hair turn into a tangled mess, and then in getting dragged into the chess club against her will. There’s also another fun comedy bit where a tough-looking punk is bragging about honour and retribution, only for his mother to turn up and start calling him embarrassing pet names.

There’s also that random little moment in which Xander says his nightmare is “if Nazis crawled over my face,” which is followed by the appearance of Swastikas graffitied in the empty auditorium. It feels like they were connected, but it never goes any further than that.

Even though I’ve accused this episode of only dealing with rather superficial fears instead of the deep psychological ones that will be explored in (much) later episodes, some good insights are given into what’s going on in the Scoobies’ heads. For instance, Willow’s stage fight is more to do with other people’s judgment of her. Buffy fears rejection from everyone, not just her father, because deep down she knows she’s in this fight alone. Giles’s inability to read also doubles as an inability to look after his “kids.”

With that in mind, it’s interesting that Xander is the one that steps up to face his fears first, with his trademark “well, fuck it,” attitude.

Granted, his was the most tangible fear and was easily punched out (his deeper fear is that he’s useless to those around him) but I also noticed that he grasped what Billy had to do to defeat the Ugly Man while Willow was still confused, which was an interesting detail that reminded me of Buffy clocking that Amy and her mother had swapped bodies before Giles did.

Giles and Willow are the booksmart characters, but Buffy and Xander have an instinctual sort of wisdom that’s rooted in their emotions (not all the time, but when it counts).

The Master and the Anointed One drop so many tantalizing lines that are never elaborated on, from the Master’s “when you were a mortal boy, what were you afraid of?” (I guess that answers my question as to whether Collin was a normal kid before getting vamped) to his musings on the crucifix and how it fills him with dread, to telling Buffy that she’s “prettier than the last [Slayer]”. Wait, does that mean he met the last Slayer? When? Where? How? Who was she?!

Then there’s Hank Summers, the character with the most untapped potential in the entire show. In my opinion, he should have returned to Sunnydale after Joyce’s death, or perhaps at the start of season six. His presence could have helped justify Giles’s leaving! He would have relieved the burden of motherhood/financial responsibility from Buffy’s shoulders (and we wouldn’t have had to sit through those awful Doublemeat Palace episodes)! There could have been an interesting rapport between him and Dawn – what if he had no idea who she was because the monks’ spell didn’t reach that far? They could have done the whole “keep the Slaying secret from a parental figure” and “how does said parent cope when they find out what’s really going on?” arc. Those are always fun!

Don't worry, I realize that I am the only person in this entire fandom who cares about Hank Summers.

As it is, the episode does a whole thing about how much Hank loves his daughter, and then at some point he becomes a deadbeat shmuck off-screen. The abandonment that Buffy fears becomes real, after this episode assures her that she’ll never have to worry about it from this particular person. That kinda sucks.

It seems like coma victims might constantly be at risk of astral projecting in a place like Sunnydale, so I have a little headcanon that Billy was a latent magic-user like Willow or that kid from The Shining. Speaking of the actor, he apparently hasn’t worked since 2011, but his very first role was in as one of Linda Hamilton’s kids in Dante’s Peak! Yikes, talk about peaking too soon.

Here's a chilling thought: the doctor says that Billy has the same M.O. as Laura, which means that the coach beat up a child as viciously as a monstrous club-handed monster would have. Geez, guys like this belong in hell.

The word “wiggins” is used again, this time by Xander. Show, stop trying to make fetch happen.

***

In many ways this is an odd duck of an episode, as the kind of large-scale reality-altering chaos that we see in this episode never really happens on the show again. I mean, there’s an actual dimensional time flux at one point! Not for the first time, I wonder what a year in the life of a normal Sunnydale resident looks like.

It’s also the most filler-y episode since Teacher’s Pet in regards to plot advancement. The likes of I Robot, You Jane and The Puppet Show at least introduced Jenny Calendar and Principal Snyder, whereas Hank never becomes as important to the show’s ongoing mythos as they do. (Not that filler episodes are bad, mind you).

The escalating chaos is nicely done, especially when it comes to Buffy’s arc – from the basic fear of failing a test, to hearing her own father reject her, to having the Master throw her into an open grave and then emerging as a vampire... I just question the fact that none of these fears ever come up again. Hank is practically a non-entity after this, and we never delve any deeper into the threat/possibility of a Slayer getting turned into a vampire against her will. I feel there has to be contingency plans in place for that one.

Ultimately, I’m kind of fascinated by this episode, because it feels so different from the usual Monster of the Week episodes. It’s not so much a definable monster that needs hunting down and defeating (though there is one – albeit a very mundane human evil that’s only onscreen for a couple of seconds) as a metaphysical mystery that need solving. The rules and concepts (“the nightmare realm,” “an astral projecting coma victim”) are surprisingly nebulous, and this type of problem is not like anything we’ll ever see on the show again: one derived from a cocktail of circumstance and trauma and Hellmouth mystical energy.

The unusual premise is almost lampshaded when Billy wakes up and quotes The Wizard of Oz, and writer Joss Whedon seemed fairly intent on emphasizing that these were nightmares the Scoobies were dealing with, not fears (even though the difference is slight enough to be meaningless) in order to sustain the dreamy (no pun intended), more amorphous vibe this episode conveyed.

Best Reveal: That the coach was behind it all: a banal evil that’s unfortunately all too prevalent in the real world. (And by a complete coincidence, I’m currently watching Harlan Coban’s Fool Me Once, which also features an abusive coach). Human evil doesn’t pop up too often in this show, but when it does, it’s more chilling than any demon or vampire.

Best Line: Willow: So, why is this happening? Giles: Billy. Xander: Well, that explanation was shorter than usual. It's Billy! Who's Billy?

Best Dumb Visual Gag:

Death Toll: Nobody! Everybody lived! (Well, the Ugly Man did club at least one other person before chasing Buffy and Billy into the cemetery, but I’m going to assume he was okay).

Grand Total: Fifteen civilians, fifteen villains, one ally.

#buffy the vampire slayer #buffy rewatch #rav's watching log #buffy

10 notes · View notes

mdhwrites · 29 days

Note

What about the gargoyles from Disney’s Gargoyles?

I know that they can “glide” and have strength, but they’re not indestructible and are entirely vulnerable during the daytime.

Would they be considered a good way of how to handled the “oppressed fictional species that had super powers” trope or another sloppy way of writing oppression allegory like the X-Men?

I sadly haven't watched Gargoyles BUT from my understanding... That's not really oppression but much closer to an ostracization/bigotry allegory with them. See, I chose my examples for a reason. The mages in Dragon Age are systemically kept in towers to be monitored and controlled. The mutants face active legislation that control their lives and the ruling class is actively seeking ways to deal with them. I believe, from my understanding, that yes the Gargoyles are threatened at the start of the show... But then it's more complicated.

They're actually a lot closer to the TMNT honestly. People who need to fear being recognized as monstrous not because they are evil or bad people but simply because they are so unusual. They do not look like everyone else, they have very different patterns of behavior since most people prefer being out in the day and do have capabilities and weaknesses different from us that we may fear or exploit. This last one may sound weird but like... African American men are tall, that's why we like them for basketball but that size also intimidates those who do not share it.

A fun element to me about them if I'm honest is actually the turning into stone element because it's actually a pitch perfect example of dramatizing what is actual reality. After all... Aren't you helpless when you sleep? Is that not why we return to our homes to lay our heads? And the more you are different from those around you, the more you need to be careful about being stuck somewhere you're not supposed to be when you're tired and vulnerable. Being turned to stone is not really any different, it's just more dramatic because you know they can't wake up. There are hard time limits. These things do not negate the parallels but simply make them more exciting from a viewer's perspective.

So I can't actually say one way or another, again haven't watched the show and this is a complex topic, but from my perspective the show is definitely a good example of a racial allegory but not really of oppression, not entirely at least. I could be wrong though and I apologize that I can't comment more on the nuances of it. The show was just before my time sadly and I've never gone back to watch it. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

#gargoyles #cartoon analysis

5 notes · View notes

quandaryqueen · 2 years

Note

Masters of Fear Crane and a dropout reader who needs help studying to get back into school and maybe has a little crush but we have to focus rn no time for all that please

Study Date

Masters of Fear Jonathan Crane X Reader

Jonathan battling his feelings? Mmm that's the shit.

🧡 Above all else, he is fucking understanding of your circumstances. School in difficult enough with the some of the teachers being unsupporting, neglecting, power-tripping, minor mistakes-policing, close-minded individuals who discourage students from chasing their dreams. Add in the students themselves who are the absolute best at bringing out the worst of you, but with teachers doing nothing to stop it, those said students continue to persist at pestering you. Then there were your domestic circumstances of course. Jonathan is not that all good with showing his emotions, but he hopes you know that he is not judging you for dropping out and he is understanding of your reasons.

🧡 Since you're showing interest in returning to school, he highly encouraged you, but with you asking him to help you? Well that he can do... Um... In your house? Just the two of you? Alone? In your room? Ahem. Uh... Right, right... He can do that, sure...

"Right... First year, first sem, these are the subjects and here are my notes." Jonathan handed you his old notebooks, the back of each notebooks torn off lest you should see your name written all over it. Not only that, he had hunted for your name written on the margins of the pages and scribbled it out.

"Got it... Thanks for the help again. You really have no idea how much this means to me." Gratitude was visible in your smile, as you reach for the notebooks, fingers brushing with his from the exchange. "I just don't know who else to turn to, to be honest..."

"I-I'm here for you..." He clumsily squeaks out.

"Yeah and I'm so so thankful you are. How can I ever repay you?"

Jonathan swallows thickly. He isn't dreaming, is he? Will he be waking up soon? Oh gosh, he was reading way too much erotica—

"No no, don't worry about it," his voice cracks.

🧡 He is patient, he will explain to you concepts of certain topics in class on repeat if it means seeing you in the university halls again, take his seat next to you during classes, eat lunch with you, suffer through activity due dates, ride out migraines, vibrate from caffeine overload, writing thesis all that bunch! And he will continually insist that you are no bother to him, just as you reassured him that his presence was not a bother at all.

🧡 Everything about you just had to be cute in his eyes and it's pissing him off. How can someone like you exist? Is that even allowed? From your subtle little quirks, the way you look so focused on your task, the way you look at him while nodding attentively as he teaches you, the way you smile in triumph when you achieve something, the way your face twists when you're bothered— AGH!

nonono, focus man.

Jonathan had to remind himself with a squint of an eye.

Friends. You're just friends.

🧡 After packing up for the day, you grinned at him.

"You know, I meant it when I asked you how can I repay you."

"And I say you don't have to,"

"Well I want to." You pouted. "Tell you what, tomorrow we can go to the diner nearby. My treat."

"Oh no no Y/N—"

"Come on! Just this once," Jonathan reddened when you took his hand between yours, his eyes broken off from your pleading gaze. "Please?"

"A-alright." It didn't take long for Jonathan to agree, how can he say no to you of all people?

"Great! I'll see you tomorrow then!"

The brunet nodded absentmindedly to himself, processing whether this exchange was a platonic offer or not. Either way... Oh he is living his dream.

#jonathan crane x reader #mof scarecrow x reader #mof jonathan crane x reader #masters of fear scarecrow x reader #masters of fear jonathan crane x reader #masters of fear #request #anonymous

63 notes · View notes

davnittbraes · 2 years

Text

The Fourth Step - Chapter Twenty-Five

Part of The World Is Light, Embodied.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (not this chapter but the series as a whole)

Word Count: 4400

Warnings, etc.: absolutely ridiculous banter that I had way too much fun writing, ANGST I mean these two have had it pretty good lately so let’s not get too comfortable, negative self-talk (love yourselves bbys please,) references to past trauma, Peli Motto comes with her own warning, an OC makes an appearance

Notes: AND WE’RE BACK to regularly scheduled programming, sorry for the delay on this one, I hope it’s worth the wait 🤞. Also, I’m making stuff up about eopies here. Also also, I couldn’t figure out the plural of eopie - is it eopie? Eopies? Whatever I picked one and went with it. Come at me, SW fandom. Also also also, ten points to anyone who gets the pop culture references in the first scene.

Mando’a translations at the end of the chapter.

Please check out the Series Masterlist page for more info.

It’s all just so pleasantly, unremarkably domestic.

As if the couple months since you left Pax have always been your life, this routine of casual activities and quiet simplicities. Going to market together, smoothly trading responsibilities, discussing minor repairs for the Razor Crest and jointly caring for a child while bantering about the likelihood of said child being too stuffed full of treats to eat supper later.

As if you’ve tucked a child into bed after a long day a thousand times, stroking the skin between drowsy eyes and murmuring gentle goodnights and sleep wells, half-listening to the muted movements of another as he tidies up your shared living space, thoughts turning to the much-anticipated moments when you will be alone with him, nestled away from the world in the quiet of night.

As if it’s normal for you to sink into the arms of another who pulls you close, sharing murmured words and caresses and soft kisses that grow heated in the dark. To wake up the next morning, warm and secure in a firm embrace, and to go through the motions of getting a household up and ready for the day.

It’s all just so vividly, poignantly domestic.

And it shakes the very foundation of your self-understanding to realize that you like it.

Not so long ago, you had adamantly sought solitude, snubbed personal relationships, avoided any connection deeper than a tight smile and a quick nod. Life had been experienced through a filter of distrust and fear, everyone and everything a potential threat to the freedom you didn’t earn, this existence that you had only due to a random happenstance that let you escape.

It’s a bit unbelievable, that you’re here, now. Sitting in the cockpit of a starship, a child dozing in your lap after a morning of play, trading teasing barbs with a man who’s name has become embedded in that warm bright thing in your chest.

You chew your bottom lip, narrowing your eyes at the back of his helmet as he leans over the ship’s control console, reading some kind of diagnostic report. “As the Stars Burn?”

The helmet tilts. “No.”

“All My Younglings?”

“No again.”

“General Medbay. That one’s insanely popular, you have to know that one.”

“Never heard of it.”

You slump back in your chair, sighing in defeat, the kid grumbling softly at the movement. “I still don’t believe you. There’s no way someone as well-travelled as you has never - oh! Sex and Cloud City.”

The helmet turns, black visor meeting your gaze. “You made that one up.”

“I swear, it’s an actual show on the HoloNet.” You can’t hold back the bubble of laughter at the absolute incredulity in his voice, and the kid grumbles again as he’s jostled with the movement. Gently, you pick him up and set him in his pod, floating next to you. “It’s nominated for a bunch of awards this year.”

A soft snort filters through the modulator. “Not for its subtle writing, I assume.”

“People like what they like.” Leaning forward, you squint at the navigation map, the image just far enough away that it’s too blurry to make out. “Where are we? The Trailing Sectors?”

“Why don’t you come here and see for yourself?” His voice is deceptively light, casual suggestion lilting his words.

You recoil back into your chair, fingers gripping the seat tight. “Nope. Nuh uh. Me and my mechanical curse will stay right here, thank you.”

He turns to face you fully, beskar glinting in the blue-white light of hyperspace. “You’re more than capable of piloting this ship.”

“How did we get from looking at the nav map to piloting the ship? That’s the exact opposite direction this conversation should be going in.”

He goes quiet, still. Unseen gaze studying you from behind the black visor. The silence suddenly thickens, your skin itching with it but your limbs stay frozen, unable to move, pinned to your chair.

Your heartbeat stutters.

He’s assessing you. Determining his next move.

Well, doesn’t matter, there’s nothing he can say that will get you in that pilot’s chair.

His pauldrons shift as he rests his gloved hands on his thighs, looking far too relaxed and confident for your liking. “You’re smart, intuitive. Your reflexes are sharp. You’re good with your hands.”

An anxiousness floods your chest, pushing you to deflect from his compliments, throw him an exaggerated wink. “Good with my hands? Well, I guess you would have some experience with that.”

The helmet shakes once, a sigh of exasperation and amusement sifting through the modulator. “And I know you don’t truly believe in some sort of curse that damages mechanical equipment when you’re around it.”

“Until I see more evidence to the contrary, that’s the most reasonable explanation.” Ok good, you can manage this. His insistent but gentle prodding to convince you to learn to fly is something you’ve become used to over the last few months. Just hold your ground and -

“What if I’m not here and the kid is in danger?”

Pfassk.

Clever bastard.

He doesn’t even flinch when you glare at him. Just sits there looking smug - it doesn’t matter that you can’t see his face, you can tell.

Sighing dramatically, you raise your hands on defeat. “Fine. You got me. But if something explodes, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Nothing is going to explode.” He stands, holding the chair steady as you settle into it.

Your fingers clench, digging into your thighs as you look down at the control console. Anxiety rumbles beneath the surface of your thoughts, quieting when a strong, gloved hand rests on the back of your neck.

He believes you can do this. At least give it a try.

His thumb strokes the curve of your neck, soothing. “So the first thing you have to remember is to breathe.”

A shaky huff of laughter triggers your lungs into working again. “Forget HoloNet dramas. You’re obviously obsessed with comedies.”

He chuckles softly. “Now that you’re closer, you can read the nav map and see where we are.”

Right, you know how to do that. Peering down at the small screen, you note the bold white lines, the positional beacon of the ship’s location. “So we are still in the Trailing Sectors. On the Triellus Trade Run.”

“Just passed Naboo, yes.” His free hand moves over the console, hovering above each group of buttons, switches and levers as he passes it. “This is the hyperdrive engine status, fuel gauges, proximity alert, autopilot sequencing, weapons.”

“Yep, got it, stay away from that part right there.” You eye the last group of controls cautiously.

“For now. Let’s start with the basics.” He steps back, folding his arms across his chest. “Take hold of the steering.”

Your gaze flies to his, nervousness spiking hot through the pit of your stomach. “While we’re in hyperspace?”

“You’re not going to do anything. Just grip the steering.”

Taking a deep breath, you face the console. “One final time, for record - if we blow up, it’s your fault.”

He doesn’t say anything, just waits patiently, watching you.

Fine. Ok. It’s just holding the steering. Nothing is going to happen.

Slowly, you lift your hands, curl your fingers around the side-sticks, slotting them into the ergonomic grooves. The grips are well-worn but still comfortable, a faint vibration of the engines buzzing against your palm.

You hold your breath, watching the various lights and screens carefully, waiting.

Nothing.

He breaks the silence, words gently teasing. “No explosions yet.”

Releasing your breath on a rush, you throw him a mock-glare. “‘Yet’ being the key word, there. Now what?”

He slips behind you again, gloved hand returning to its place on the back of your neck. “We’re not going to do anything while in hyperspace, but we can -“

A shrill beeping cuts through the air.

You instantly let go of the steering, jumping out of the chair and taking a step back as he takes your place, reaching over the console to pull up the system status. The alarm shuts off, last of it echoing through your thoughts in time with the pounding of your heart.

He flips another switch, sighing. “Coolant line sprung a leak. We’ll have to land to repair it.”

The lack of urgency in his voice calms your anxiety, relief washing through you. “How far can we make it?”

“Not far.” He turns to the navigation map. “Tatooine is our best bet. I know a mechanic there.”

You sink into your chair, glancing at the kid, who’s sitting up, nap forgotten, ears perked with curiosity. “Great, my curse not only damaged the ship, it also forced me back to the Galaxy’s Dustbin.”

The helmet turns to look back at you, tilting slightly. “You’re not cursed, tionas.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tell that to the coolant line.”

*****

The twin suns are high above Mos Eisley as the Razor Crest dips into the hangar bay, creating a puff of dust that hasn’t quite settled as the crew door slides open, twitching your nose with the urge to sneeze.

Kriffing Tatooine.

Blinking against the bright sunlight, you barely get to take in your surroundings before a shrill voice pierces the air.

“Mando! What’s wrong with this hunk of junk now?”

The kid babbles cheerfully, shifting around to stand up in his pod with arms outstretched and Din grabs him before he loses his balance.

A short, curly-haired woman wearing coveralls strides up to the ramp, her deep scowl quickly shifting to a smile as she reaches for the kid. “Well hello there, bright eyes! Did you miss me?”

Din shifts the kid into her arms. “Coolant line is leaking.”

She turns a shrewd gaze in his direction. “Surprised it didn’t blow completely, the way you run the poor girl. Well, that won’t be cheap, as you know pre-Empire parts are hard to come by.”

That gaze shifts to you, assessing, even though she’s clearly still talking to him. “I thought you said you weren’t a taxi service, but here you are taking on passengers.”

Her words should be rude, condescending. You should be offended, you know that. But there’s something about her, an undiluted forthrightness that makes you like her instantly.

Din clears his throat, slipping a gloved hand around your waist to rest in the small of your back. “She’s not a passenger. She’s with me.”

Oh.

You’d never really talked about it, how he would introduce you to others. Actually, you’d never even given it much thought, so rarely did you come into contact with people that he knew.

So you weren’t prepared for the spark of heat to flare up your spine from the warmth of his hand, or the thrill that skittered along your heartbeat as his words sunk in.

Her gaze darts down your frame, sizing you up with absolutely no reservation or subtlety. “Interesting. Not who I expected you’d end up with. Anyway, don’t touch anything.”

Then she’s spinning around and striding away, cooing to the kid in her arms about getting him a snack.

The helmet flashes in the sunlight, black visor turning to look at you. “She didn’t mean… Peli can be…”

“Blunt?” You watch her feed the kid what looks like a piece of roasted meat, obviously delighting in how quickly he wolfs it down. “Honestly, it’s refreshing. I know exactly where I stand with her, and that’s somewhere between your romantic interest and a potential annoyance.”

“My ‘romantic interest?’” His voice lifts in amusement.

It takes every effort not to smile as you meet the black visor’s gaze. “Yeah, you know. Like on those HoloNet dramas you love.”

Still, it’s not enough to hold back your laughter as his exasperated sigh filters through the modulator.

*****

After the kid had been fed to Peli’s satisfaction, she wasted no time diving into the Razor Crest, coming up with an extensive list of parts needed to repair the coolant leak. If it had been anyone else, you would have suspected manipulation, a specialist trying to take advantage of people who don’t know as much as they do about something, but Din trusts her, so you do, too.

Which is all well and good, but trust won’t buy starship parts.

And unfortunately, credits are running low between you and Din, who, of course, immediately insisted on going to find work to pay for the repairs. But as you so effectively argued, you were more likely to find work that didn’t include putting yourself in mortal danger than he was, so here you are now, roaming the streets of Mos Eisley in search of a job.

You squint against the sunlight, stepping around a group of Rodians pulling a large cart full of crates, and scan the storefronts for opportunities. Your best bet is probably a cantina, where word always gets around when people were looking for help, but sometimes you luck out by finding a shop owner in need of an extra hand -

Something big and lanky suddenly stumbles across your path, throwing you off balance. Your instincts take over and you grab the loose reins trailing after the creature, dig your boots into the dirt to pull it to a stop.

The creature honks in protest and your senses catch up.

An eopie.

You give the reins a quick tug, a sharp movement that pulls its short, trunk-like snout downward, directing its gaze to the ground, and slowly reach out to stroke along its flank, pitching your voice low. “Hey now, it’s ok, calm down, you’re ok.”

The eopie gives a honk in protest, tries to swing its head around but you tug the reins again, keeping it facing down, the crowds of the street out of its eyeline, and it heaves a sigh of relief, a tremor running along its wrinkled skin as it calms.

A voice calls from somewhere over your shoulder. “Kriff, are you alright?”

Keeping your hand on the eopie so you can feel if it tries to bolt again, you turn to see a man jogging toward you, leading a line of eopies connected by a transport rein.

You pat the eopie gently, throwing the man a friendly smile. “I’m fine, poor thing just got spooked.”

He pulls to a stop, glancing back to make sure the eopies behind him fall into line before turning back to you, gaze sweeping over your form. “She broke the lead, took off before I could grab her. You sure you’re alright?”

“Really, no harm done.” Handing the reins to him, you look down the line of eopies, curious. “She probably wouldn’t have gone much farther, anyway. They don’t like to stray too far from their herd.”

He smiles, and your stomach dips sharply - after the chaos of the last few moments you’re only just now realizing he’s… very attractive. The kind of handsome you would have eyed from across the bar in your younger days, but probably wouldn’t have worked up the nerve to approach.

He’s tall, with long, lean limbs and a trim build, defined muscles peaking through the low collar of his shirt. And there’s an openness to his features, a sweet and gentle kindness in the soft angles and warm gaze that instantly puts you at ease.

Dank farrik, he definitely breaks hearts with those eyes. Probably unintentionally, but still.

Right now, though, those eyes are fixed intently on you, bringing your focus back to the conversation.

He clears his throat gently. “Are you… busy, right now?” You blink, thrown off by the question, and he ducks his head sheepishly. “Sorry, let me explain. I run an eopie breeding business, and both of my employees are away - two brothers, their sister just had a baby in Anchorhead.”

One of the eopies shakes its head, tugging at the lead as if beckoning him to get on with it, and he chuckles self-deprecatingly. “Anyway, I’m trying to get five dozen eopies to transports around the city by the end of the day for shipment to the outposts. If you can help me out, I can pay you what I would have paid the two of them combined.”

The little laugh of incredulity that slips from your lips obviously takes him back, and you lift a hand in apology. “I’m actually looking for work for a couple days.”

His features shift into a delight that’s so endearing you can’t help but smile. “Well, guess we’re both lucky today.”

“Guess so.” You gesture toward the eopies. “Where are these guys going?”

“Transport Hub 68, on the north side.” He holds out his hand. “Should probably give my name, if we’re going to spend a couple days together. Mikresh Bhan.”

You take his hand and shake it firmly, pulling a name from the running list you keep in your head. Something short, unremarkable, an abbreviation of any number of similar names in multiple languages. “Call me Kas. Let’s get these to 68, then.”

*****

After an afternoon of leading eopies around Mos Eisley, you can confirm that the biggest problem isn’t getting the eopies to go where you want, it’s getting other people to move out of the kriffing way.

You glare after a woman who walked right toward you, without even attempting to go around the eopies, forcing you to guide them around her at the last minute. “Unbelievable. People are so self-absorbed and oblivious.” You pause. “Actually, that’s very believable, what am I saying.”

Mikresh laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile automatically. “Especially in Mos Eisley. Everyone seems to have blinders on.”

“And something shoved up their ass.” You catch yourself, glancing back at him. “Sorry if that was rude. The path between my thoughts and my mouth is frustratingly short sometimes. And all the time, when it comes to talking about this scud-hole of a city.”

“No apology needed.” He looks around the crowd. “Everyone here keeps their cards close to their chest, always listening for someone else to slip up so they can use it to their advantage. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone who just spoke their mind.”

“You do seem a bit too honest to be living in Mos Eisley.” You turn a corner, giving a wide enough berth to the merchant stalls lining this part of the street that the eopies won’t get distracted by the bartering customers.

He laughs again. “Yeah, wasn’t my first choice. But we go where the work takes us, right?”

You open your mouth to agree, but the words stop up on your tongue, feeling odd and out of place.

Mikresh assumed you were one of those people drifting from planet to planet, picking up odd jobs as they went, and you hadn’t said anything to correct him. It was best if he thought you were unattached, with no true goals or commitments beyond finding the next job.

Which was true, for most of your life. You didn’t “come from” anywhere, or call any particular place home.

But now?

Now you had a child who had you entirely wrapped around his tiny green claw, and a man who made you forget every bad thing that had ever happened to you with a simple murmur of the nickname he’d given you against your skin.

Now you had a -

Something stops that line of thought, abrupt, a sharp jagged tear through the warm bright thing in your chest.

A deep-rooted shadow, crawling from the depths of your mind, dormant for the last few months but still there.

Always there.

It latches on, spreads over your thoughts, twists your stomach until it hurts.

Your teeth bite into your bottom lip, hard enough to sting.

Stupid girl.

You let some mushy emotions blind you to reality.

The time you’ve spent with Din and the kid, the moments of vulnerability, the secrets you’ve shared - it doesn’t change who you really are.

You’re exactly who Mikresh thinks you are.

A drifter, a nobody. Someone who jumps from planet to planet, identity to identity. Running from a past that you’ll never truly escape, can only hope to stay one step ahead of.

This life, this existence of comfort and safety and trust -

It’s all temporary. It always has been, and always will be.

Eventually, the kid will go to the Jedi. A society known for its strict adherence to rules that ban emotional attachments.

You’ll never see him again.

Eventually, Din will find his people. A people who he has sworn to protect, warriors who prize bravery and strength and purity of their culture above all else.

You’re no Mandalorian. You, with scars that prove you bowed to others.

And eventually, your past will find you, and you’ll have to run again. Keep moving, never settle.

Because that’s your life.

Not those sweet moments of domesticity, or beautiful intimacy found in the dark, or playful banter about things that don’t really matter.

You will always end up alone, running, afraid. No amount of loving embraces and calm statements of relationship to strangers and soft words full of emotion you don’t want to name will change that.

“There they are, the buyers are just down the street, see them?”

Mikresh’s voice shatters your inward focus, yanking you back into the moment. You look in the direction he’s pointing, see the two Bothans watching you expectantly.

Blinking back the shadows creeping along the edges of your vision, you force your attention to the job at hand. You’ll find time to parse through those realizations later. “Yep, I see them. How many more after this?”

“Just two more.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you throw him a smile. “Next time, it’s your turn to dodge oblivious assholes.”

*****

Loud banging echoes through the hangar as you walk in, interspersed with muffled cursing you can only partially make out. Moving around to the other side of the Razor Crest, you see why - Peli is half-hanging out of a hole in the ship, legs kicking with each bang as she obviously swings some kind of tool at whatever it is she cursing out inside the ship.

You pause, taking in the scene. Parts are scattered about the yard, durasteel panels and other unidentifiables. There’s a general air of frustration that you can feel as you get closer, the kind that builds after one too many things go wrong.

A flash of silver - Din, standing next to Peli, holding a mess of hoses and wires out of her way. He looks up, black visor finding you immediately, and your heartbeat flutters at the sensation of his unseen gaze on you.

The kid’s cheerful babble pulls your gaze to where he’s perched on top of a discarded pile of tools.

The warm bright thing in your chest squeezes, then the dark thing in your mind clutches tight. Your instinctual smile at the kid fades, but you force yourself to reach out, brush a fingertip along the top of his ear as you pass him.

Peli hits whatever it is she’s assaulting, shouting in triumph when there’s a subsequent crash. She pulls herself out of the ship, glaring at Din. “Damn thing finally let go. You know, this entire system needs a complete overhaul - half the components are rusted. I don’t even know how that happens with durasteel. Just your luck, I guess.”

She catches sight of you, then glances up at the sky. “Dosh, sunset already? I’ve got to finish up, new neighbours have been complaining about the noise at night lately - what kind of moof-milker moves next to a hangar if they’re fussy about noise?”

She strides away, grumbling under her breath, grabbing tools that are scattered throughout the yard and tossing them into various crates.

You avoid her path of vexation, making your way to Din as he lets go of the hoses and wires. “I almost don’t want to ask, but I’m curious enough to risk it - how’s it going?”

His sigh filters heavily through the modulator. “It’s not just a coolant line, it’s the whole system.”

Your stomach twists with unease. “That sounds expensive.”

“It’s… not cheap. Peli got a below-market price on parts, but they’re still an unexpected cost.” He leans back against the ship, resting his hands on his belt. “More credits than we have right now.”

“Maybe not.” Digging into the pocket of your jacket, you pull out the envelope Mikresh had given you when you’d parted ways. “Will this cover it? If that’s not enough, I have work lined up for the same amount tomorrow, and I might be able to get another day of it.”

The helmet tilts, black visor looking at the envelope in your hand, but he doesn’t move to take it, words coming slow and uncertain. “I’ve been thinking… I know we’ve been sharing costs for food and supplies when needed, but… this is different.”

That knot of anxiety you’ve been trying to ignore all day twists and turns, digging painfully under your ribs, pulled tighter by the dark thing in your mind.

You swallow hard, try to keep your voice steady against the tremor that threatens to shake your hand, still outstretched toward him. “How is it different?”

“It’s my ship. My responsibility. I’ll find a way to make credits to pay for the repairs.”

A loud crash startles you, and Din strides toward the sound - the kid, looking up from the pile of parts he just knocked over, ears drooping and big eyes wide.

Din scoops him up smoothly, patting his back soothingly while shaking his head in disappointment. “You have to be careful, kid, you could have hurt yourself or someone else.”

The kid coos quietly, curling his tiny claws into Din’s cowl.

That knot under your ribs unravels, spreads throughout your body, pulling muscles tight.

It’s his ship.

Not yours.

Just as the kid is his. You have no true connection to him.

To either of them.

Din shifts the kid into the crook of his arm like he’s done countless times, starts to help Peli clean up.

The dying sunlight bounces off his pauldron, illuminating the signet in a flash that pierces right through your heart.

They’re a clan. Even when they part ways, they’ll always have that - a bond of shared experiences you’ll never truly understand, a sense of belonging they will carry with them for the rest of their life.

You don’t really belong anywhere.

You never have. And you never will. *****

Mando’a translations

tionas - question

***** Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x female reader #mando x you #mando x f!reader #reader insert #no y/n #the world is light embodied

25 notes · View notes

thetrespasserfrontier · 7 months

Text

RETURN TO THE LOST WORLD

(This is a short(ish?) story I am working on, a sequel to Michael Crichton's second JP novel, The Lost World. Basic premise is that Levine and Malcolm are returning to the island by themselves. Sort of coming up with the plot as I go.)

APARTMENT

BEEP--BEEP--BEEP-- The alarm sounded. A startled bird flew off, making a short ruckus outside the window. A hand emerged from under the covers, fumbling absently for the source of the loud noise. BEEP--BEEP-- Richard Levine found the button, turned off his digital alarm. He rolled over to look up at the idle ceiling fan, stretching his arms out. He'd thought about waking early this morning, considering his plans for the day. But no, he'd decided, the morning routine would do fine as always.

Getting out of bed, he straightened the sheets before going over to the dresser. Inside, various socks, arranged by color. He selected the grey ones, set them on the bed. Then a red shirt, khaki pants, black leather boots. He began to think as he put them on, his studies from the previous night reentering his mind. Predator-prey relations, crepuscular activities of modern animals. Coming into the dining room, he saw Romelia had prepared breakfast as always. Poached eggs, herb-baked potatoes, steaming early grey tea. He sat down to eat, continuing his thoughts. A crow landed on a branch outside his window. He noticed the scaled legs, the sharp claws. A fitting visit for a day like this, he mused over a sip of tea. Finishing and setting the plate aside, he picked up a book from the end table. The Fauna of East Africa. A helpful recommendation of Sarah Harding's. No sooner than he opened to the page he'd left off on, the phone rang. Sighing, he set the book down, picked up the receiver. "Levine." A familiar voice answered. "Good morning Richard. Ready for our flight this afternoon?" It was Ian Malcolm. Wonderful sense of timing as always. Levine glanced at the antique grandfather clock in the corner. "At seven o'clock in the morning, I suppose so. Our flight to Costa Rica doesn't leave for another seven and a half hours." "Don't forget," Malcolm chided, "we have to go over the final details with Doctor Thorne at nine." Levine hid his annoyance from his voice. "I'm not senile. Of course I remember. I'll be there." He paused. "It's a shame Sarah didn't want to accompany us this time. I'd love to hear her perspectives on the predator-prey relations we're to study." Malcolm chuckled. "I think Sarah is satisfied that mammals are her area, after her last visit." Levine sighed. "I'm sure you're right. A smaller team is probably for the best, this time. By the way is there any more word on Costa Rica's search for the source of the aberrant forms?" "Not directly. But recently there seems to be a sudden hush-hush on the subject. I'm fearing the worst; they may be planning something." "Hmm. A disturbing development. I suppose our expedition to Isla Sorna is well-timed, then." "Seems that way. Well, I have some things to finish up. See you at the garage." "See you there." Levine hung up, reflected a moment. It was unfortunate to be in a rush on such a sensitive matter. The study of these animals deserved time and patience, not a race against a second possible extinction. But then, he should be happy to have the chance at all. The video feeds from InGen's outdoor cameras were really a poor vantage from which to study what was probably the world's only extant population of Dinosauria.

Levine opened his book again and began to read. Just as he reached an explanation for male lions domining over multiple prides, the phone rang again. With a sigh of frustration, he set the book down and picked up the phone again. "Eh-hem. Levine here." "It's Thorne. How's your morning?" "Well. It would be fine, if my phone were not constantly interrupting my attempts to finish The Fauna of East Africa before leaving my apartment for two weeks. What is so pressing that it can't wait until my arrival this morning?" "Nothing major. Just that there are a few more details to go over with you and Ian than I thought. I'd like the two of you to come over at eight-thirty, if it's not too much trouble." Levine sighed. "I suppose that's fine. At this rate I might as well bring the book on the plane. I'll see you at eight-thirty, then." "Thanks, Richard." Thorne hung up.

* * *

As Levine prepared to leave, he gazed at the corkboard on his wall. Much of it was as he'd left it before his first visit to the island. Hints about a lost world and the whereabouts of Site B. There were of course some additions; aberrant forms had continued to wash ashore in Costa Rica and elsewhere, which he'd made sure to keep tabs on. The radio tag he'd sent to Malcolm rested in a plastic baggie, also pinned to the board. Most notable though was an article he'd found online, detailing Costa Rica's continued closure of offshore islands to tourists, with the strange note that their re-opening was expected in under a year. It troubled Levine more than he was willing to admit. He'd been relieved to be successful in procuring permission for a helicopter flight to the island, okayed on the basis of having research purposes, even though he and Ian had later decided to hire a private boat instead. After thinking a moment, he unpinned the article from the board to bring it with him and show it to Malcolm. He grabbed his suitcase, his new safari jacket, his hat, and left to drive his Ferrari to Thorne's garage.

#jurassicpark #thelostworldjurassicpark #thelostworld #michaelcrichton #ianmalcolm #jeffgoldblum #islasorna #siteb #dinosaurs

2 notes · View notes

lilliaace · 7 months

Text

Breath Play 101

This text below is courtsey of Reddit because I couldn't really make a better document about this. So if you're interested in breath play, PLEASE read the following below.

There is no safe way to do breath play, period. You risk death and serious injury, every, single, time. Below is an in depth discussion of different methods to engage in breath play. It goes over in depth anatomy and risks of each type of breath play. A "blood choke" when you apply pressure to the blood vessels and not the windpipe is just as dangerous, if not more so than applying pressure to the wind pipe due to how anatomy and physiology work in this area of the body.

The complete Manual of Breathplay BY DUNTER EDITION S.LECLERC

Page 1 The goal of this manual is to provide information, not to encourage or discourage people from engaging in breathplay. I do not take any responsibility for any practice inspired by this manual. This is not a training guide, reference manual, or compendium. The practices mentioned below can lead to serious injuries or even death. I hope this book will inform you about some of the most dangerous BDSM practices, and help you and your community recognize the risks associated with these activities. Word from the author: Who I am and why I wrote this book

Firstly, I am not a doctor, black belt martial practitioner or a professional in breathplay. Therefore, readers should not take the knowledge presented in this book as absolute truth, and must conduct their own research. However, I have witnessed the tragic loss of many friends who engaged in breathplay activities, and my goal in writing this book is to save lives by sharing my knowledge and experiences.

Prior to conducting breathplay classes, I conducted extensive research on the topic and provided awareness on the dangers this practice can pose. Additionally, I have been involved in the BDSM community for many years, and have attended conventions across Canada and the United States, learning from a wide variety of people and classes related to this domain.

As an ex-military personnel and martial arts enthusiast, I have knowledge in areas that are not commonly discussed or shared, and I believe this information can be valuable to others.

I truly believe that sharing my knowledge is better than simply saying, 'Don't do it.' It's important to understand how and why something is dangerous so that we can explain how to mitigate risks as effectively as possible.

Page 2 Introduction What is Breathplay? Breathplay encompasses various activities within the realm of BDSM. For the purposes of this manual, breathplay refers to controlling the flow of air or blood. These activities range from choking to strangulation and are generally considered dangerous. When engaging in breathplay, you are playing with a vital aspect of your body's function, and some of these activities have resulted in fatalities in the past.

What are people seeking by engaging in breathplay, also known as erotic asphyxiation, and why do they do it? This activity has been present in the kink community for a long time, but it is not exclusive to fetish environments as both young and older individuals participate in it for various reasons. There are different motives that drive people to engage in erotic asphyxiation, ranging from experimenting with fear to psychological needs, while others are interested in physical sensations such as having a hand on their throat. Some individuals seek to experience passing out, while others are drawn to the effects produced by hypoxia. For some, the experience of waking up confused after the pass-out effect is what they desire. Thus, people use it to satisfy different needs, from physical sensations to mind games.

What is the danger and what is the safe way to participate in breathplay? Firstly, it is important to understand that breathplay carries inherent dangers and cannot be considered safe under any circumstances. Even those who are experienced in such activities cannot completely eliminate the risk of accidents occurring. The body may react differently to the practice and may be damaged as a result. Accidents can occur from both direct and indirect application of these techniques, and cumulative use can lead to long-term harm.

Those participating in breathplay may seek the feeling of hypoxia, caused by a decrease in the concentration of oxygen in the air. The air we breathe contains approximately 20% oxygen, and when the oxygen concentration falls below 10-15%, individuals may experience a state similar to drunkenness. This affects judgment and coordination, making it dangerous to continue the activity. Those who attempt to push through this state are at an increased risk of accidents and may be unable to recognize their limitations.

Many cases of individuals dying in relation to breathplay occurred when they were alone. With impaired judgment and coordination, such scenarios become accidents waiting to happen. It is vital that those engaging in breathplay do so with the assistance of a trusted partner who can monitor their physical and mental state, and intervene if necessary.

Page 3 FIRST RULE: NEVER DO THESE THINGS ALONE. At oxygen levels lower than 10%, we may experience a loss of consciousness, and levels lower than 8% can result in death. Please keep this in mind, especially if you are using bagging or rebreather techniques. Different methods, such as a change in blood pressure, can trigger the "passing out" effect. The lack of oxygen can also cause the body to react by shutting down non-vital activities to try to protect itself. Some people may enjoy the comeback effect, such as confusion. The sensation of passing out under control is intense and may include tunnel vision, loss of all senses, and loss of muscular control.

The definition of edge-play involves playing with someone's life, which is not legal in Canada. It is prohibited to give permission to be injured or hurt. Therefore, if such activities result in a person's death, it would be considered manslaughter even if the individual provided consent. When deciding to engage in such activities, please consider the impact on loved ones or dependents. Additionally, most fetish events, like dungeons, do not permit edge-play due to the potential danger involved. Please check the local rules and regulations of the venue to confirm whether edge-play and breathplay are allowed.

Before attempting breathplay Before attempting breathplay, questioning is an important part of negotiation. Common sense medical inquiries should be made, such as asking about any issues with blood pressure, breathing, or heart conditions. It's also important to ask about the sought type of activity, the desired effect, any limits the person may have, and how to communicate the safe word or signal to stop. If the person has consumed alcohol or caffeine, this could impact their body and change their blood pressure. Additionally, it's important to ask about any previous experience with these activities and the person's age, as engaging in edge or breathplay at ages 20-30 is not the same as doing so at 50-80. If there are any factors that increase the risks associated with these activities, it's best to try something else.

Before engaging in any risky activities such as breathplay, it is advisable to take a First Aid and CPR class in case of emergencies. It is better to be prepared for the worst than to be caught off guard if something goes wrong. These activities require your undivided attention, so stay focused at all times and avoid taking breaks. Leaving someone unattended during these activities is considered irresponsible, and if they cannot help themselves, you will be held accountable for any harm that may come to them. It is crucial to monitor their level of consciousness by observing their "thinkable reactions", such as giving an answer to a question or holding a limb in a particular position, their eye movements, breathing, and grip on objects - especially when lighting conditions are unclear.

Page 4 Anatomy The larynx is our airway and is made of cartilage, which can be damaged by pressure. If a foreign object is placed in the mouth, it can trigger the gag reflex, resulting in light coughing or even vomiting. The Adam's apple should also be avoided when applying pressure, as it can cause discomfort. The carotid arteries, located on both sides of the airway, provide blood flow to the brain and have a sinus with a baroreceptor that controls heart pressure. Consistent pressure on the carotid sinus can cause the heart to slow down or even stop. Backup arteries in the spine provide 30% of blood flow to the brain, making it crucial to understand how the lungs work and how pressure on the abdomen can make breathing difficult. Body modifications such as implants, surface piercings, and dermal piercings can cause issues with this type of play. Two nervous systems, sympathetic and parasympathetic, play a crucial role in the body's functioning.

When conscious, you have control over certain bodily functions, such as breathing. However, when you lose consciousness, your nervous system relies on mechanical information to keep working. For example, if you're underwater and holding your breath, but you pass out, your nervous system will try to make you breathe in water. It's important to note that every person's body is unique, with individual differences accounting for up to 15% of variance, from the shape of their ear to the complete inversion of their internal organs. Just because you know where something is located on one person doesn't mean it's in the exact same place on another.

Before engaging in any activity, make sure you have the proper tools and equipment, like safety shears, in case an issue arises. It's also a good idea to have a charged cell phone nearby to quickly call for medical assistance if needed. Additionally, always have a first aid kit and use common sense.

It's crucial to recognize the effects that come with breathplay and use them as indicators to stop or take a break. For instance, if someone experiences headaches, it may be a sign to stop the activity. Petechia, which is characterized by blood traces in the white of the eyes or on the skin due to ruptured blood vessels, is a well-known effect of breathplay.

If someone experiences an atypical effect, such as memory loss, during the activity, stop immediately and consult a healthcare professional. Breathplay involves controlling someone's breathing. One way of doing this is by manipulating the cycle of respiration. Many marksmen have learnt how to control their breathing patterns to improve their accuracy. People can hold their breath for some time before releasing the air. If you prevent them from taking another breath, panic and fear will swiftly take over. It is important to note that the cycles of respiration speed up when the cardio kicks in from stress and fear. Understanding this is crucial in breathplay. You

Page 5

You need to be aware that your partner needs to breathe, but you should also know when to stop them from doing so. Avoid blocking their exhales too forcefully. This is known as the Valsalva manoeuvre. Instead, focus on playing mind games to control their breathing, rather than intentionally causing hypoxia or hyperventilation.

Technical

-Valasalva maneuver: This technique is known to people who dive or use airplanes. The goal is to balance the pressure in the ears by blowing through an obstructed nose when the mouth is closed. This technique, when pushed to the extreme, can have negative effects, so never block the exhalation of air of someone.

-Gag reflex: The gag reflex is activated when a foreign object that represents a risk to breathing safety is detected by the body. The reflex can range from coughing to vomiting until the obstruction is cleared. This is important to understand when playing with objects in the mouth, such as ball gags or other toys of that type. Some ball gags have holes in the ball that allow saliva to flow out, but some do not.

-Thumb versus tongue: A swinger who likes breathplay during sex taught this technique to me. It should not leave any marks. Place both hands as if strangling someone, with fingers on each side of the neck. Then, raise your thumbs to place them where the tongue is, under the chin and one inch below it. Push up in that direction toward the throat to make breathing more difficult but not impossible. Do not put pressure on the neck or trachea.

-Face sitting: This can be a dangerous thing to do since you cannot see the face of the person. Always use other ways to verify your partner’s consciousness. The obstruction can be done from the front (vagina smothering) or even with the buttocks of a person. It can be done clothed or naked, and some materials like latex can add a layer of fun to this kind of play. Also, consider the weight of the person doing the sitting.

-Nose blowing: I always see this as a punishment. Blowing in someone's nose, like canine mouth-to-mouth, can give some people unpleasant sensations. Be careful not to over-pressurize your blow.

-Bathing cap: Latex can be used to create a sensory deprivation experience, however, it's important to ensure the person can breathe comfortably throughout the play. It is recommended to allow them to take deep breaths before applying the cap, and to only use it for a short duration.

Page 6

-Smothering: Smothering can be a light form of play, however, it's important to be mindful of the need for air during intimate moments. Blocking the nose can increase the effects of oxygen deprivation, but it's crucial to not block the exhale. Some individuals may enjoy using gloves during this type of play.

-Positional asphyxia: This is a highly dangerous form of play that has been used to torture and kill people in the past. It is vital to avoid any form of play that could result in the restriction of breathing or harm to the individual. Examples of ties that can potentially lead to this effect include the ebi-tie, full body suspension by the wrist, crucifixion, and hogtie. It's of utmost importance to prioritize safety during BDSM play and to only engage in activities with proper knowledge and consent.

-Compression: Breathplay through compression can be executed in numerous ways. For instance, sitting or placing a knee on someone's belly can restrict their breathing, while compression ties that compress the thoracic cage can have the same effect but take more time to execute and undo. Additionally, some people may feel that corsets are effective when it comes to compression. However, it's critical to remember when to undo these methods. It's worth noting that in certain choking games, kids often force hyperventilation before having their chest pressed against a wall. When they release, the change of pressure can cause them to pass out, which can be extremely perilous due to the fall that follows.

-Belly compression with legs or scissors-legs: Compression on the belly can make it harder to breathe. In some antiquated cultures, putting rocks on the belly was a type of torture that led to death. This practice can be just as risky as the others, but it's relatively quick to undo. It's important to be careful not to apply too much pressure on the ribs or bladder and to aim for the mid-belly.

-Gas Mask: As a former military individual, I am aware that gas masks can be used in breathplay. They make breathing more difficult due to their filter. A hose can be added to aid with the play. Blocking the intake is simple, and you can observe the mask approaching the face as a result of the vacuum. Some individuals use the hose to experiment with various scents or for sensation play. The masks offer limited visibility on the person's face who is wearing it, hence, it's important to monitor their consciousness carefully.

-Re-breather: These are bags that go along with some gas masks. They recycle the air, which becomes increasingly low in oxygen concentration, creating the buzz of hypoxia. While these games can be thrilling, they are also highly dangerous. Some re-breathers come as part of latex equipment, which means that the visibility of the user's face may not always be optimal.

Page 7

-Tape: Playing with tape can be popular for smothering play, pictures, and videos; however, it's important to be cautious of potential indirect effects. Sometimes, people can have allergic reactions to the glue on the tape, and removing it can be difficult. For a safer option, 3M Microfoam tape is recommended, as it is soft and easy to remove with less toxic glue than duct tape. Non-adhesive tapes that stick to themselves can also be used, but keep safety shears nearby just in case.

-Saran wrap (plastic wrap): Saran wrap can be used for breath play, but it's recommended to wrap it around the nose up so that the person can still breathe through their mouth. To create a blindfold, tape can be used over the Saran wrap. If you want to have control over the person's breathing, cut a small square that can be removed as needed. When removing the wrap, cutting it on the side of the head is best, being careful with hair.

-Bagging with a hard bag: Using a plastic bag over the head can be overwhelming, so hard bags are recommended. These can be secured to the head using tape, or nonsticky tape. As with rebreathing, the circulation of air can lower oxygen concentration in the bag. Hard bags can have a hole cut at the top to let air in or suck air out. This hole can also be used for cigar smoke or to fill the bag with water, which is very scary. Be cautious of condensation inside the bag that can decrease visibility.

-Bagging with a soft bag: Hotel mini garbage bags are a strong option for this type of play. Inflate the bag slightly before placing it over the head and closing it at the neck. This creates a scarier sensation as the bag gets closer to the face. Rebreathing is dangerous, so use caution when playing with this technique.

-Gags: Gags are a common item in many sex shops. Some are very basic, such as ball gags, while others are shaped like a small penis. Most do not have holes for drooling, but some have large holes that allow for breathing. The important thing to watch out for is the gag reflex, and you should always be prepared to monitor any issues that may arise with these implements.

-Kiss of death: The Kiss of Death is a romantic way to engage in breath play. When sealing lips with your partner, you can control the flow of air by blocking their nose with your hand. You can breathe through your own nose and give your partner some of your air, or you can steal some of their breath for a short moment of sensation play. It's important to ensure that your partner does not panic in this position.

-Hyperventilation: Hyperventilation can lead to passing out and is a dangerous activity. Some school choking games involve hyperventilation, then you get into a ball position and then rapidly rise to your feet. This can be dangerous due to the risk of falling.

-Nose plugs: Similar to those used for swimming, nose plugs are used to simply block the nose. They become a part of breath play when coupled with kissing or fellatio.

Page 8

-Latex band: Latex bands come in different sizes and are used by the Top to block breathing for a moment. The band takes the shape of the face and seals the area it is applied to.

Breathplay: Blood

Breathplay: Blood Strangulation, in this sense, is about altering the amount of pressure the brain receives from blood flow. The change in pressure can cause most people to lose consciousness. When a person passes out, you release the pressure. The person should regain consciousness once the pressure is released. It's important to note that playing with either blood or air can be equally dangerous. Most of these techniques are referred to as bilateral carotid compression.

Techniques:

-Pinch of Death: Apply pressure with a finger and thumb on each of the carotid arteries. Use your other hand to turn and lift the head by holding the hair to block pressure from the backup arteries. Remember that a person who passes out has no muscle control, so it's your responsibility to prevent injuries and protect them at all costs.

-Rope Neck: This topic is highly controversial. Rope neck techniques range from a simple rope passing in front of the neck like some Hojo-jutsu ties to a leash with a noncollapsing loop or a single column. It can be used for decorative or sensation purposes. Watch out for rope marks around the neck as they can be seen by others and lead to misunderstandings. Applying pressure on the carotid arteries can induce sensations or cause someone to pass out. Be mindful of the trachea and avoid attaching the noose to a solid object around the neck.

-Fake choke: Some people enjoy a hand on their throat as a way to enhance their passion, but it's important to be gentle and apply light pressure. To do this, place the palm of your hand over the hollow in the middle of the collarbones with fingers on each side.

-Rope and scarf choke: This technique is a good way to apply even pressure around the neck without focusing too much pressure on the baroreceptor. To do this, place the middle of the scarf on the front of the neck and wrap both sides around the back of the neck. During intercourse, the receiver can hold the scarf themselves and apply pressure while the partner monitors for safety.

Page 9

-Belt: Belts can be used for strangulation, but it's crucial to be careful with the locking mechanism as it can pinch the skin or cause harm. It's important to position the top of the belt bite in the direction of pulling to allow for some space. Neck play should focus on holding rather than squeezing the neck. While this can be a thrilling experience for some, it can also be dangerous, so caution is advised.

-Rear naked choke: This technique, borrowed from martial arts, applies bilateral pressure on the carotids using the bicep and forearm, and is very effective in making most people pass out in less than 15 seconds. Some call it the 'sleep-holder'. Make sure to take a class on these techniques with a professional. Just because there have been no accidents recorded in the records of judo and jiu-jitsu for this practice does not mean it is 100% safe. Ensure that you hold the person well because a person who passes out has no muscular control. If the technique is still not working after 10 seconds, let go. You may be holding it the wrong way, or the anatomy of the person may be different, with their carotids placed further back or if their backup arteries are bigger. I have met three people out of a thousand who cannot pass out, so there is no need to try harder than usual.

-Leg triangle choke: This technique can be very dangerous because it uses the most powerful group of muscles. Even well-trained practitioners can over-contract these muscles. It can also be seen as an erotic activity due to the close proximity of the head to the other person’s genitals. Seek advice and training from a professional to learn this technique safely.

-Recreational hanging: This activity resembles lethal punishment and is not recommended in any way. The neck is not designed to handle this kind of stress, and it can result in compression on vital organs. This type of activity was common in many countries in the past, but it should be avoided for safety reasons.

-Water boarding, drowning, and wet towel: These techniques were used as forms of torture in the past and can be dangerous. It is recommended to take a class and use caution when practicing these advanced techniques. Breathing through a wet towel is difficult, and when it comes to waterboarding, using very cold water can be more effective in achieving the desired effect of a make-believe drowning sensation without causing harm to the person. The goal of these techniques is to play with the mind, not to cause harm.

Page 10

Last part In the "Don't" section:

-Arm bar: The arm bar was a technique used by police forces for a long time, but due to many deaths, they decided to use the "naked choke" technique instead. The arm bar compresses the trachea using the forearms, which can lead to damage to the air pipes, and it doesn't help to calm anyone down.

-Overpressure: Applying too much pressure with any technique will lead to injuries, and you don't want that.

-Solid hanging: Never attach a noose or loop to anything over your head that can lead to hanging. Never attach your neck to something that can move or fall.

-Other: Never engage in any of these practices alone; never mix these activities with drugs, alcohol, fatigue, or exacerbated negative emotional states. Remember that even if it's safer when you know what you are doing, it does not necessarily make these practices safe.

Death Death cases: Every year, many people die from practices like edge and breathplay, but not enough education is provided to help people mitigate the risks. Therefore, I strive to take a step forward and raise awareness.

-Autoerotic asphyxiation: David Carradine, the lead actor in 'Kill Bill', was found dead from what appeared to be autoerotic asphyxiation. This kind of death is sadly common, and often happens when people practice alone and make bad decisions.

-Obstruction incident in St-Julie: A paramedic who was engaging in heavy bondage and using a ball gag with his wife failed to notice that she vomited and was choked to death by her own vomit. This case was ruled an accident, as no breathplay was intended.

-Alone in St-Bruno: A fireman engaging in an intense session with his partner left her in a predicament alone. She couldn't move due to a metallic solid collar that was loose around her neck. The woman suffered from positional asphyxia, passed out, and choking herself to death with the collar.

Page 11

-Vacbed in Toronto: A friend of mine was using a vacbed with a small opening for his head. The latex collar was pressing on his baroreceptors, reducing his blood pressure, making him fall unconscious. Even after he was unconscious, the pressure continued to send a message to his heart to slow down until it stopped. This is a warning never to practice alone or apply continuous pressure there.

-Predicament in Italy: In the rope community, this incident is well-known. A rigger tied two intoxicated girls by the neck to each other. They had to stay on their toes to avoid choking, but one of them collapsed, choking the other to death. Both girls lost consciousness, still choking each other. The rigger was also intoxicated and had left his safety shears in his car, delaying the rescue attempt.

-Bag of death: Some countries use an 'exit bag' in conjunction with neutral gases like helium for legal suicide. This puts the person unconscious quietly, and the re-breathing inside the bag does the rest. However, it's important to seek help rather than resort to this solution as it is irreversible.

Appendix Glossary: • Erotic asphyxiation: The intentional restriction of oxygen to the brain for the purpose of sexual arousal. • Auto-erotic asphyxiation: Self-induced effect of erotic asphyxiation. • Passing out, syncope, also known as fainting: Defined as a short loss of consciousness. • BDSM: Bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism. • Safe word: A code word used to communicate an official instruction to stop the play. • Edge-play: Activity that endangers the life or health of the person receiving the play. • Ball gag: A fetish sex toy that consists of a mouth-insertable object with textile or rope to hold it in place. • Vacbed or vacuum bed: An envelope spanned by a frame, and a suction pump or a floor vacuum removes most of the air from the envelope. It is a restriction device. • Top: The person who administers the play. • Bottom: The person who receives the play. • Hypoxia: A condition where the body or a region of the body is deprived of an adequate amount of oxygen. • Adam's apple: The structure of the Adam's apple forms a bump under the skin. It is typically larger in adult males. Page 12

This book was inspired by: TSURUMI, Wataro. The Complete Manual of Suicide, Japan,1993. ISBN 978-4-87233-153-0

References: KOIWAI, E Karl. Deaths allegedly caused by the use of «choke hold» (Shime-Waza), Judo Info, Online publishing date unknown (original paper publishing 1987), (Online), http://judoinfo.com/ chokes6/ KNIGHT, Bernard and Pekka Saukko. Knight's Forensic Pathology Third Edition, CRC Press, United States, 2015. ISBN-10: 0340760443 LYLE, Douglas P. Forensics For Dummies, For Dummies, United States, 2016. ISBN-10: 0764555804 ,ISBN-13: 978-0764555800 Images from: Gray Anatomy, 1918. This book is dedicated to all the people who touched my heart and left too soon. Page 13 It is the result of the collaborative work of many friends.

3 notes · View notes

tenebraevesper · 9 months

Text

Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains, Night 24: Living In A Memory

''Night comes, Freddy let's me keep lights on, but I can't stand. There's knocking like before, Bonnie's at the door. Wake up, Foxy just left. Now, Chica's creeping on me. I can't sleep anymore. What's she waiting for? How beautiful the night can be! I'm never getting any sleep, I'm losing all my sanity! Have you seen what I've seen? How beautiful the night can be! I'm living in a memory, I'm losing all my sanity! Have you seen what I've seen?''

– Memory by Rockit Gaming ft. Vinny Noose (The Joy of Creation)

xXxXxXx

The door creaked slightly as Springtrap opened it, poking his head into the room. Sam was lying on the bed, fast asleep. He glanced across the room at the other door and the closet that was across the bed, both of which were closed. He sighed and stepped away, closing the door behind him. Rest assured, he didn't want Sam to run from one side of the room to the other trying to keep the Nightmare Animatronics out.

As he walked down the hallway, he felt that it was a bit ironically that Sam didn't mind sleeping in the bedroom that Sammy had hated and feared so much. Obviously, the circumstances were different now, but he had figured that she might've at least attempted to check under the bed and the closet for monsters. He sighed.

Sam's mind doesn't work like that. She knows that, if you want to find an actual monster, you should turn towards your fellow human. You never know what they're hiding.

Slowly, he made his way back to the private room that overlooked the corridors that led to the hidden bedroom. On the desk was a book, Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows, with Springtrap having managed to get past several chapters in the past few hours. While he didn't have a clock on him, he had figured that it was already well past midnight.

He wanted to continue reading the book, but something was bothering him. He knew that it would've been better for him to work on how to eliminate the Drawkills and Connor. He knew that he couldn't rest until he was sure that he found a solution to this problem, something that would work without making too many sacrifices. His eyes glowed faintly as he marked the page in the book and reached for Sam's backpack that was under the table, taking out the black device that was capable of rendering an animatronic almost completely useless. He didn't activate it, as he knew that, despite being a spirit operating an animatronic suit, he'd be affected as well.

Nevertheless, maybe it is possible to nullify this device's effects?

The purple glow his eyes emitted had grown stronger as he stood up, opening the drawers. He was glad that he and Sam had decided to clean this place up, as it was easier for him to find the necessary tools for this little project.

This device works like a jammer or an interference device, working on a frequency that causes animatronics to have their senses disrupted. If I figure out how to block them or at least lower the effect it has, we could use it against the Drawkills without suffering through the same ordeal as they would. Of course, that would only be possible in the case Connor hadn't decided to make them immune to the device as well.

Springtrap tilted his head as he came across an old, portable radio. He was a bit surprised, having forgotten that he had actually brought a radio here. He snorted, wondering what he was thinking about bringing a radio into an underground location, where the reception would obviously be poor. However, he was curious about whether it still worked. He turned the radio around, popping the lid and noticing that there were no batteries. He searched the drawers for them, remembering that he had seen a pair. After finding them and putting them into the radio, he turned it on, hoping that it would still work.

There was a wave of static as he switched through the stations and adjusted the antenna, but he had finally managed to find one that actually worked and was clear. By the sound of the announcement the host made, it seemed to be a station that played late-night music. He turned the radio off, suddenly hearing footsteps. He turned around, noticing Nightmare Freddy staring at him.

''Tell the others to gather at the Funtime Auditorium,'' he told the animatronic. Nightmare Freddy nodded, leaving. Springtrap then turned back to the black device, with a determined look on his expression. This has to work.

xXx

After placing his tools on the stage, Springtrap turned to the animatronics that had gathered. Nightmare Freddy, with the Freddles, Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Chica, Nightmare Foxy, Nightmare Fredbear and Plushtrap were all eagerly waiting for his instructions, for whatever task he had for them this time. It was a bit unusual, mostly because Springtrap was used to be given weird looks from other animatronics, not to mention the fact that he had been tormented by a replica of Nightmare Freddy, Nightmare Bonnie, Nightmare Chica, Nightmare Fredbear and even Plushtrap in the pseudo-Hell he was trapped in.

Rest assured, the animatronics that were gathered here bore no ill will towards him and were completely loyal to him. Springtrap sincerely hoped that things would remain that way, having grown a newfound respect for his own creations. He took a deep breath, crossing his arms as he addressed the animatronics.

''You are going to assist me in a little project that should make you immune against this interference device,'' he said as he held up the black device Connor had created. ''It'll be a bit of a trial and error and I will have to shut down your system temporarily to work on it, but I believe that the ending result will be satisfactory.'' He waited for a response, but the animatronics kept silent, having no objections towards his plan. He continued, ''I will have to first test it, though. As you will find out soon, this device will interrupt your system, cutting off all your senses, particularly the auditory and visual one. So, are you ready?''

The animatronics nodded without any hesitation. Springtrap then activated the device. The moment he did that, a wave of static overwhelmed him, followed by a noise that hurt his ears. However, it didn't seem to be as bad for him as for the rest of the Nightmares who were clutching their heads in agony, the Freddles and Plushtrap screeching in pain. He quickly turned the device off. As the Nightmares recovered, they all gave him startled looks, having obviously not expected that it would be this bad. Springtrap couldn't help, but feel bad for them.

''Trust me, once I'm done, the effect this device has on you won't be as bad as it is now,'' he told them. ''Afterwards, I will inform you about your actual task.''

''This task requires us to be immune to this device, doesn't it?'' Nightmare Freddy asked. Springtrap nodded. He exchanged looks with the others, with all of them walking to the nearest wall and sitting down. Springtrap walked over to them and, one by one, shut them down. He then stepped back, staring at them, a strange feeling spreading through his chest.

He remembered then endoskeleton that he had encountered at the Machinations Factory, one that had been tormented by Connor. It was still active, but unable to move, completely at the mercy of the two strangers that found it. Despite being just a robot, it had been clear to Springtrap that it was suffering and he quickly put it out of its misery.

Springtrap shook his head, feeling chills and tried to ignore the memory, but he had to admit to himself that, despite the circumstances of his condition, he was just as much an animatronic as they were. He knew well how it felt being unable to move, being controlled by someone else, damaged by fire and electric shocks, and even losing your limbs and having to replace your entire body with spare parts.

And yet none of that had managed to faze me, Springtrap thought, aware of the irony. He sighed, trying to focus on the task ahead. He already knew at which frequency the Nightmares worked and he figured that there would be a way to, if not block, then at least somehow mute the interference. Maybe… He took out the diagnostic tool, connecting it to the interference device. I could reduce it to just white noise and while they might still sense it, it wouldn't be as bad as it is now. Yes, that should work.

He then walked over to the stage to get a few tools, as well as the radio, and walked back to the Nightmares, crouching down in front of Nightmare Freddy. He then turned the radio on, simply to have some background noise, and payed not attention to the host as he briefly interrupted the pop song that was playing in order to announce the next artist, Nox Arcana.

Let's see… Springtrap removed Nightmare Freddy's mask, tracing down the wires that connected to the various parts of the animatronic. A few seconds later, he heard an eerie, haunting melody playing. He hummed along absent-mindedly, knowing that he'd be stuck here the whole night, upgrading the Nightmares. He wasn't in a hurry, though, despite the possibility that the Drawkills might figure out where this location was and try to break inside. Springtrap snorted, feeling that, even if they had entered the building, they probably wouldn't be able to figure out how to enter any of the rooms not connected directly to the elevator, let alone the hidden area where Sam was currently at. Rest assured, they were safe here.

That's quite ironical… Springtrap shook his head lightly as he reached for the screwdriver. Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental was never a safe place, especially not for its employees or even the customers. The only thing that could've been considered a safety feature would be the electric shocks the animatronics were submitted to and even that didn't work.

His ears stood up as he stopped working for a brief moment, having a strange feeling. He then realized that it was the music and glanced the radio. He had a feeling that he heard it before, and while it probably wasn't the same song and artist, it sounded quite familiar. Or, maybe I'm wrong, maybe it's something different… I mean, can I really trust my own memory? His eyes suddenly glowed as he realized why the song sounded so familiar.

''No way, Scarborough Fair?'' he muttered, a bit startled. It was quite an old song and he was a bit surprised that it was still played on the radio, even if it was a different version of it. Nevertheless, he was a glad to hear it.

''Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Yesterday holds memories in time.''

I knew it… He was aware that it was probably a bit foolish of him to be happy about recognizing something so trivial, but he didn't care. Wait, didn't the verse go 'Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme?'

''Remember me to the one who lives there, she once was a true love of mine.''

He relaxed a little, focusing back on his work. He knew that it wouldn't take long until something happened that would stress him out again, and he wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet he had as long as possible. Something always happens… He shook his head, trying to ignore the uncanny feeling of anxiety that was creeping upon him.

''Tell her to think back upon younger days; Yesterday holds memories in time.''

Would I really be able to say that it's been a while since I had tinkered with animatronics without a care in the world? Springtrap sighed. Those kinds of memories are few and far between.

''And seek yonder crossroads where we parted ways, then she'll be a true love of mine.''

He was well aware that the last time he had actually worked on an animatronic project like this was when he and Henry made Fredbear and Spring Bonnie. It was something they both took pride in, combining their talents to make something great. They both had plans for a successful future, but this happiness didn't last long thanks to his own bitter feelings. Out of the two, he was always the more ambitious one, the one who sought more recognition, who felt that he deserved better.

I never deserved anything. My own desires don't matter anymore due to the pure selfishness I had shown. Springtrap lowered his head. If there was just a way to make things right… Why the hell did it take so long for me to realize what really matters?

''Daddy, what are you doing?''

Springtrap turned around, noticing Elizabeth staring at him with a curious look on her expression. However, she looked a bit reluctant about approaching him. He couldn't really blame her for that, as he had made it clear to her years ago that she should never bother him when he was working, a lesson she obviously never forgot. Springtrap stared at her, with a look of guilt on his expression. He lowered his head.

''I am just making sure that the Nightmare Animatronics won't be affected by this device,'' he explained in a calm and gentle tone, pointing at the black device that was lying next to him.

''Okay,'' Elizabeth muttered, still a bit reluctant about approaching her father, with Springtrap feeling a cold sensation spreading through his chest, tearing him inside.

''Tell her to follow the path to the shire; Yesterday holds memories in time.''

''Lizzy, I'm sorry,'' he said. ''I'm sorry for being so abusive and neglectful towards you. I know that nothing I say or do will ever make things right, but I still wish that there was something, anything…''

''So, you won't get angry at me for interrupting you during work?'' Elizabeth asked cautiously. Springtrap stared at her, devastated, and he shook his head.

''For there she'll find her heart's true desire, then she'll be a true love of mine.''

''No, I won't, trust me,'' he said remorsefully. ''I know that you were just curious, that you only showed interest in my work, and that you wanted to learn something. I know that simply wanted to make me proud.'' He lowered his head. ''I regret what I had done to you and attempting to turn you into a monster like me. I made so many mistakes, and the way I treated you, Michael and Sammy is something I will always regret. I can apologize as much as I want, but nothing is going to change what had happened.'' He sighed, looking up. ''Honestly, I'm just happy that you're here, whether you hate me or not, as I don't even deserve that.''

''No, you don't,'' Elizabeth replied in a quiet tone, her eyes narrowing as she stared at her father. She looked past him at the animatronics, then turned back to him, giving him a questioning look. ''You won't mind then if I watch you working on them?''

''No, I won't,'' Springtrap replied, feeling a bit relieved as Elizabeth approached him. However, that feeling of relief was soon replaced by grief.

He knew that his daughter hadn't forgiven him, and he was aware that this would never happen, but he was still glad that she had shown interest in talking to him, or at least acknowledging him. He felt a sting of guilt as he remembered how, after her death, he had left her here all alone, her soul trapped inside Circus Baby. Sure, he may have sent Michael to free her, but it was clear that he should've done that himself. He knew that he should've died instead of his son. While he eventually met his own demise, it still paled in comparison to what his own family had to go through.

''Lizzy…'' he muttered. ''I'm sorry…''

He looked at her, with Elizabeth giving him a look which was a mix of apprehension and confusion. He knew that she was probably wondering what he was apologizing for now, but he simply couldn't find the words to convey how he truly felt. His mental and emotional state was a complete mess; regret, guilt, despair, grief, sorrow, misery and bitterness were all mixed together, the result being complete chaos, with him having had no idea what to say or how to react.

Then, there was the cold feeling of emptiness, the realization that it didn't matter how he felt. He wasn't a person anymore, but an emotionless monster he himself had created. Am I even allowed to show remorse or sorrow? He clutched his head as agony tore through his mind and body, ripping him apart. The memory of Elizabeth's mangled body flashed through his mind. He could still clearly remember the blood flowing through his fingers as he cradled her broken body in dismay.

No... He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He had stolen other people's lives, so if they had lost their voice, why should he be allowed to say anything instead of suffering in silence? No one could hear them, so why should anyone hear him? Why?! Why have I done that?!

''Daddy, what's wrong?''

He opened his eyes, realizing that he was on his knees, staring at the ground. He looked down at his hands, startled to see red marks covering the tips of his fingers. Blood? He glanced at Elizabeth, who looked genuinely worried.

''Daddy, you're crying…'' she said uneasily.

''It's fine, don't worry about me,'' Springtrap told her calmly. ''This isn't the first time it happened.''

''It looks a bit disturbing, though,'' Elizabeth replied. Springtrap wiped away the blood that formed around the corner of his eyes.

''I didn't mean to scare you, Lizzy,'' Springtrap said. Elizabeth gave him a bitter smile.

''Well, I saw worse of you,'' she said. Springtrap kept silent.

''Nevertheless, you still have to wonder whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.'' Springtrap and Elizabeth turned around, noticing Michael and Sammy standing in the room. Sammy's lips curved into a bitter smile. ''Hey, Dad.''

''So, you two decided to pay a visit as well?'' Springtrap asked, at the same time feeling happy and anxious about seeing them.

''Tell her to come to the old willow tree; Yesterday holds memories in time.''

''We're only here because Lizzy wanted to see you and we didn't want to leave her alone with you,'' Michael explained, as he and Sammy approached Springtrap and Elizabeth. He then looked at the animatronics his father was working on. ''You look quite busy.''

''I had figured that it would be better to be prepared for whatever may come next,'' Springtrap replied. Michael rose an eyebrow.

''Really? Since when did you ditch your 'make things up as you go along' approach?'' he asked.

''Trust me, I don't have any solid plan,'' Springtrap replied. ''I only know what the end result is supposed to be, but not how to achieve it.''

''Where spirits of lost love yet whisper to thee, thou art still a true love of mine.''

''Okay, what do you want to achieve?'' Michael asked curiously. Springtrap lowered his head, staring at the animatronics.

''All I know is that I need to take out Connor,'' he said in a firm tone.

''Fine, but what is going to happen afterwards?'' Michael asked. ''I assume that you want to stay here.''

''Yes, I do want to stay here, but that's not important now,'' Springtrap told him, noticing Michael, Sammy and Elizabeth giving him weird looks. He shook his head. ''I will explain you that another time.''

''So basically, never?'' Michael asked sarcastically. ''It's always the same with you.''

''Tell her to gather three lilies of white; Yesterday holds memories in time.''

''No,'' Springtrap replied. ''Trust me, this time, I have learned from my mistakes.''

''Yeah, and you're only going to end up making more mistakes,'' Michael replied bitterly, only to notice Springtrap's eyes glowing in a faint purple.

''Is it really a mistake to tell you that I wish that I had appreciated you more?'' he asked.

''To place at my headstone, beneath the moon's light, then she'll be a true love of mine.''

''I don't think it is,'' Sammy interrupted the two, frowning. ''However, you're a bit too late. You should've told us that before we all ended up dying.''

Springtrap kept silent, looking rather crestfallen.

''Well, at least we got an apology,'' Elizabeth said, crossing her arms, then glanced at Michael and Sammy. ''However, it doesn't really matter, does it? Nothing is going to change.''

''Forever she'll be the one true love of mine.''

''I won't argue that I'm able to fix this situation, since it's obvious that there's no way to do that,'' Springtrap told her. ''Nevertheless, I wanted to at least tell you how much I regret what I had done to you. I know that at this point, I'm just repeating myself, but being able to see you and talk to you is something I'm incredibly thankful for.'' He smiled bitterly. ''This isn't the family reunion any of us was hoping for, but it's the best we got.''

''Not to mention, we still have doubts whether we made the right decision when we decided to visit you,'' Michael replied. Elizabeth smiled mischievously.

''Well, we are missing one person to make this 'family reunion' complete,'' she said, causing Sammy to glare at her.

''Lizzy, I don't think that it would be a good idea to wake Sam up,'' he told her.

''I know that,'' Elizabeth replied in an irritated tone, turning her attention back to Springtrap. She tilted her head, a look of concern on her expression. ''Still, if you break down again… It can be really scary at times, even more than when you get angry.''

''Lizzy…''

Springtrap stared at his daughter in silence, not sure how to respond. Moments later, he realized that it was too quiet, glancing at the radio and figuring that the battery had probably died. Nothing is forever, right? He then took a deep breath, looking back at Michael, Sammy and Elizabeth.

''I promise that you won't have to worry about me anymore,'' he said.

xXx

Drawkill Freddy stared at the house, clenching his fist. Despite the fact that he knew that this was the place where he and his companions would find help, he was still reluctant about going inside. They weren't welcome here, or anywhere for that matter, and, even though no one said it, they had their doubts about the plan and whether it would even work. They simply knew that there was no way they would ever get help from the people they had attempted to kill and destroy respectively. Why would those two even trust them?

''Are we really going through with this plan?'' Drawkill Chica asked Drawkill Freddy.

''We should hurry up, before Connor decides to check on us,'' Drawkill Foxy added, tapping his head, where the communication device was.

''Com'n, Freddy,'' Drawkill Bonnie said. ''Or, are we just going to stand here all night?''

Drawkill Freddy kept silent. Despite the fact that he was the one who insisted on coming here, he too was at the point where he was doubting his own plan, much to the frustration of his companions, who wanted some kind of answer, anything that would solve their current problem. He turned back to his companions, with a downcast look on his expression.

''I'm sorry,'' he said. ''I don't think that they are going to listen to us. We didn't exactly made a good first impression on them and things might only get worse for us if we do ask them for help.''

''So, this is it? We're not going to do anything?'' Drawkill Chica asked incredulously.

''Do you have any better idea?'' Drawkill Freddy asked her. Drawkill Chica paused for a moment, staring at him, then shook her head.

''Come to think of it, we don't even know whether they're at home,'' Drawkill Bonnie said. ''Aren't we going to at least knock on the door?''

''Even if we appeared with a gift basked and an apology letter, I don't believe that they would let us inside, let alone help us,'' Drawkill Foxy replied in a dry tone. Drawkill Freddy sighed.

''We're leaving,'' he said dejectedly, seeing the looks of disappointment the other Drawkills gave him. ''This is pointless.''

His companions just nodded, following him. They knew what was awaiting them once they returned back to the warehouse.

''You know, maybe we won't have to endure another punishment tonight?'' Drawkill Bonnie said, trying to cheer his companions up. ''Connor specifically sent us here to get the parts from Ricky's. Searching for Afton was an optional task.''

''I wouldn't be so optimistic, Bonnie,'' Drawkill Chica replied.

xXx

''Another night, another failure I have to deal with,'' Connor said calmly, his eyes glowing as he glared at the Drawkills, who had all their heads lowered, not daring to look him in the eye. ''Haven't you learned anything, but anything for your past experience?!''

The Drawkills kept quiet, as they knew that there was no use arguing with Connor. The latter was getting quite impatient, staring at them.

''Well? Do you have an answer?!'' he asked. While the rest of the Drawkills didn't react, Drawkill Bonnie clenched his fist. ''I have programmed you to talk and to act, but all of you are good for nothing, absolutely pathetic…''

''So, you want an answer?'' Drawkill Bonnie spoke up, much to everyone's surprise.

''Bonnie-'' Drawkill Chica hissed, but Connor held up his hand, silencing her.

''Go on,'' he told Drawkill Bonnie. ''I'm listening.''

''If you want to know my opinion of you, it's that you're someone who enjoys to have power and induce fear into people,'' Drawkill Bonnie said defiantly. ''However, behind all those devices you made, you are a complete coward.''

The other Drawkills stared at Bonnie in shock, then glanced at Connor, fearing his response. However, instead of screaming at the animatronic or threatening him, Connor remained disturbingly calm.

''So, you're claiming that I'm a coward?'' Connor asked in a quiet tone.

Drawkill Bonnie just nodded, despite the feeling of dread that spread through his body. However he knew that, whether he remained compliant or not, the end result would always be the same. To Connor, they were just tools he could easily discard and if he was already going down, he wanted make it clear that he wasn't Connor's puppet. Connor stared at him for a moment and then looked at the other Drawkills.

''Do you share the same opinion?'' he asked. Drawkill Freddy, Drawkill Chica and Drawkill Foxy exchanged glances, remaining silent. They truly wanted to speak up, they wanted to say that they agreed with Drawkill Bonnie, but the memory of the torture Connor had put them through caused them to freeze. They didn't want to experience the same again, despite the fact that they wanted to side with their friend. ''There really isn't anything you want to say?''

Drawkill Bonnie glanced at his companions, seeing the reluctance in their eyes. He shook his head lightly, much to their surprise, and turned back to Connor.

''They obviously have nothing to say,'' he said firmly. ''However, I'd like to know your thoughts.''

''My thoughts?'' Connor snorted.

Drawkill Bonnie started to scream in pain, falling down on his knees, clutching his head. Connor smirked, walking past him, looking quite satisfied with the result. A few moments later, Drawkill Bonnie felt the pain fading, with Drawkill Freddy helping him up. However, before anyone could say anything, Drawkill Bonnie suddenly walked past all of them.

''Bonnie, what are you doing?'' Drawkill Chica asked.

''I have enough of this,'' he growled, with his companions realizing that he was going towards the room where Raven was. They all had a bad feeling about this, but followed him nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Drawkill Bonnie opened the door and marched inside, with a determined look on his expression. He stepped in front of Raven, who was startled by the former's sudden entrance.

''What are you-?'' Before Raven could say anything more, Drawkill Bonnie grabbed the metallic spike that was wedged into the animatronic's chest. Raven's eyes flared up in shock, with him fearing that the Drawkill Animatronic would attempt to destroy his endoskeleton. ''Bonnie, what-?''

''Keep quiet and hold still!'' Drawkill Bonnie hissed as he wiggled the metallic spike. Raven closed his eyes, his head hurting from the sudden static that obscured his vision. His ears were buzzing, but he didn't dare to move in fear that he'll suffer from more damage. The torment he experienced, however, didn't last long, as he felt the spike being ripped out of his chest. A sensation, which could only be described as relief, overwhelmed him and he opened his eyes. While he was still cuffed to the pipes, he could now breathe more easily. However, Drawkill Bonnie's actions made no sense to him.

''Why?'' Raven asked. Drawkill Bonnie's eyes flared up.

''Because I hate Connor,'' he said, walking over to the nearby table and placing the spike on it. He then reached for the drawer, taking a key out of it and walked back to Raven, unlocking the cuffs. A moment later, Raven was free. He stepped back, staring at Drawkill Bonnie in shock, unsure what to make out of this. He looked at the entrance, seeing the other Drawkills staring at him.

''You're are crazy,'' Raven said. ''You know what Connor is going to do to you once he finds out about this.''

''Honestly, I don't care anymore,'' Drawkill Bonnie replied. ''Connor can do to me whatever he wants, but I'm not going to obey him anymore.'' He frowned. ''You need to leave right now, before Connor decides to pay you a visit.''

''What about your friends?'' Raven asked, glancing at the other Drawkills. ''How am I supposed to know that you won't hurt me in some way or that this isn't some kind of trick?''

''If you leave now, we won't stop you,'' Drawkill Bonnie said, stepping away.

Raven glanced at the other Drawkills, who too stepped away from the entrance, waiting for his move. Raven was still a bit hesitant. Now, that he was free, he wanted to go after Connor, but after he saw what Connor did to the Drawkills, he knew that he needed help. He frowned, walking out of the room and into the hallway, with Drawkill Freddy pointing towards where the exit was.

Raven nodded and, with one last glance, he quickly went to the exit, leaving the Drawkills to their fate.

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterlist)

5 notes · View notes

ctntduoarchive · 1 year

Note

cwilbur + 0 for the ask game?

1) What would their social media page/activity be like

he would have a twitter Only because c!tommy has it and therefore he must have it too. but he has a secret tumblr account where he doesn't know how to actually use it and everyone assumes hes a porn bot ❤️

2) What animal they remind me of

hmmm........ my bird hybrid demons + his parent Literally canonically having wings....... my demons are telling me some sort of bird hybrid. But no one knows What type of bird. and no one really wants to

3) My thoughts on their design/aesthetic alone

idk he gives me floral!!!! like flower patterns and all!! that whole revival/new life going hand in hand with spring like clothing .

4) Physical headcanons (sleeping habits, favourite food, all that)

back problems. <- old man . also his sleep schedule after revival is like. chasing sunrises He'll always wake up early to catch one. he also has a bad habitat of working on things late though and it shows. no one comments on it, but they know

5) Social headcanons (what do they think of their friends/allies if they have any, what are they looking for in relationship, what people tend to think about them...)

ohhhh c!wilbur is a social person. like every action BUT the one where he went to utah was in spite/for another person. making lmanburg for his family. running for presidency because of the civil unrest. blowing up lmanburg because he believed that lmanburg caused people more hurt than good. also the entire arc where he made a burger van to show quackity how much bigger his dick was than him. like he cares So much about his relationships but it always to shame filled to admit it.

6) Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

no taste (based of cc!wilbur But its real to me idk how) . he probably has a "childish fear" (e.g. scared of the dark) but always pretended like it doesn't bother him Because he's always had to be the leader and the one protecting others, so he never let himself actually deal with it

7) Ship(s) with them that I like or at least consider

What do you think. <- c!tntduo was literally the whole reason i made this account so i could talk about them

8) Made-up connections with other characters that weren't in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

idk what to say for this one . he probably smoked a fat blunt with c!connor at Least once

9) Headcanons about their past

i feel like he when he worked at the gas station he'd do a lot of daydreaming of how he Actually wanted to be. like to be someone Important and to be a big deal . he always wished for the stars

10) Content about them I'd like to see more of

any 👍

#bugflies00

6 notes · View notes

havoc-warband · 2 years

Text

Oh, so I- I see, I’m too incompetent for you, is it?

Trahearne picked up another sheaf of papers, desperately hoping the document he was looking for would be underneath.

It wasn’t.

He was certain it should’ve been somewhere around here. No such luck: he’d have to go through the whole pile.

Sitting down with a sigh, Trahearne grabbed the first several dozen pages and started leafing through them.

I see. No, it’s fine. I’ll leave you to it then, Marshal. Go and cleanse Orr. I’ll work on my skills in the meanwhile. Maybe I’ll be good enough to be your paper-boy the next time we meet.

The Marshal stared at the papers with unseeing eyes. He forced himself to wake from his daydream - day-mare would be more accurate - with a shake of his head, and put the papers back down. He would just have to put the lot of them into his messenger bag and sort through them on the airship. It would be heavier like that, and his shoulder would not be happy with him the morning after, but at least his heart wouldn’t be alone in that anymore, then.

His last conversation with his Comm- with Vikaros had gone so terribly wrong. He couldn’t get the sour aftertaste out of his mouth whenever he started thinking about it. It was already more than two years ago, and he hadn’t heard anything from Vikaros since. Nor had he sent anything himself. Every time he’d picked up a quill and some parchment, all words had fled him. He knew that he should apologise for the truly tactless way he’d brought it up. He knew that he should assure Vikaros that he was one of the most competent warriors and leaders he’d ever seen. The rage on the charr’s face during that horrible conversation had been burning, but it didn’t entirely hide what was underneath - surprise, betrayal, and worst of all, shame. Trahearne thought that maybe he could invite him to view Orr, once it had been cleansed, or go visit him himself, but it had taken much longer than he’d thought: once reanimated, even without a leader, the Risen proved incredibly stubborn. It didn’t help that they didn’t seem to feel pain or fear anymore, either. Just hunger.

Their efforts had paid off, however, and the continent was nearly completely cleansed of Risen now. Grasses had started sprouting up here and there, and birds were nesting in the elaborate coral structures. Last week, right before he’d left, he’d even spotted a daisy springing from the still-sickly-looking soil. He might have even cried a little at the sight, such a bright sign that his Wyld Hunt was finally coming to a close after a quarter of a century of hard work, if he hadn’t been so busy. He had been sketching flowers into the margins of whatever he was reading since.

Then, they received word that Mordremoth’s activity had surged dangerously. Trahearne had sent word for his commanders to start preparing the fleet already, so that he could join them as soon as he’d returned from Orr. He had even sent a missive to Vikaros, awkwardly leaving out personal touches. He was resigned to rebuilding their friendship from nothing, but he had not received anything in response.

All of the others had sent back confirmations. Except for Vikaros. The messenger had come back empty-handed, but at least said that he’d received and read it. Trahearne supposed he’d see if the charr headed his summons or not once he arrived at Camp Resolve.

A bit rougher than it really warranted, he shook out his head again, and shoved another folder into the by-now-overly-full bag. He did really not have time for-

No, not for a knock at the door, either. It was probably just Caithe, anyway. He had arrived in the Grove only a day ago, but had been too busy to contact her, and hadn’t planned to before he left again. He supposed she could carry a few stacks of paper for him, since she’d disturbed him.

“Come in,” he said, back still to the door. He heard it open and close.

“I’m sorry, sister,” he began, “as you can see, I’m really quite busy, I’m afraid I don’t have the time to-”

His sister wasn’t purple, nor did she have yellow slitted eyes.

The stranger had been as silent as Caithe usually was, and Trahearne suddenly realised, didn’t have a presence in the Dream either. Soundless?

“Who are you?” he demanded, reaching for his staff.

“Firstborn,” the stranger greeted, “I was hoping to find you here.” Daggers glinted from where they were strapped to his legs, but he made no move to grab them. The stranger seemed at ease, a stark contrast to Trahearne himself, and the situation.

“Why?” Trahearne asked, suspicious. He finally found his staff, one-handed and without removing his eyes from the intruder, and raised it, ready to defend himself.

Normally, he would not be this suspicious of a sibling, but years of dealing with the Nightmare Court and, more recently, being a prominent political figure, had taught him distrust.

“You should not go to the Maguuma Jungle,” the other said. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth - did he find this humorous?

Trahearne scoffed, trying to hide how unsettled he was. “Do you think you can stop me?” he asked.

“Yes,” the stranger said, his smirk fully breaking through, a touch unhinged at the edges, “because you’ll doom the whole damned Pact if you go. And my friend - he’s in the Vigil, and loyal to a fault - I won’t put his life in any more danger than it already is, stuck in the middle of the Jungle with your idiotic Commander. I won’t allow you to put his life in any more danger.”

“What?” Trahearne said, lowering his staff a little, confused. The fleet hadn’t even launched yet, how were they already-

“Mordremoth has awoken,” the intruder continued, “and it wants to control every sylvari it can reach. If it could touch you, and find the knowledge in your head about the Pact’s supplies and movements, it would destroy everything. It’s almost worse than Zhaitan and the Risen.”

“What?” he repeated. This was impossible. “But the Pact-”

“Launched days ago,” the other said, and his smirk turned into a snarl. “Without you. And that’s a good fucking thing. As it currently stands, I had to- nevermind the details, I’ve saved my friend from the dragon, and I hope to the Pale Tree that the charr I’ve left him with - your rogue Commander’s warband - haven’t killed him yet, because being sylvari just became an extremely undesirable trait in a soldier.”

Trahearne fully lowered his staff then, placing the butt on the floor so he could lean on it. This was… entirely too much information, none of which he had been prepared for. “The fleet launched without me?”

The stranger groaned. “Yes, old man, keep up. It’s also the least of your problems, or have you not been listening?” He spoke with such venom behind his words, but Trahearne got the feeling it wasn’t aimed directly at him. As it was, it was only barely missing him, though, and he was tiring of it rapidly.

“Who are you?” Trahearne asked again.

“Not one of your pawns, Firstborn,” the other spat. He had been calm at the beginning, but was getting more worked up by the minute.

“Can you give me a detailed report of the situation?”

“What do I look like to you, a soldier?”

Trahearne graciously didn’t point out the daggers at his side, or the rifle on his back.

“Why are you even here?”

“I have a letter from Vikaros,” he said.

Trahearne only just managed to resist throwing his staff at him. “Why didn’t you open with that?!”

The other only laughed at his reaction, and his face fell back into the slightly insulting grin from earlier.

“And won’t you please just tell me who you are!”

“My name is Renfrac,” he said, seemingly calm now that he’d had his fun.

But now it was Trahearne’s turn to be angry. “If you say that Mordremoth claims all sylvari that come near the jungle, how come you have a message from my Commander, who you claim is in the jungle?”

Renfrac raised an eyebrow. “You did pay attention!” he praised.

“Either you are a jokester with a horrible sense of timing, or you’re already corrupted yourself,” Trahearne said, voice low, “either way, I think it’s time we end this.” And he followed it up with a shout, “Wardens!”

Renfrac’s eyes were suddenly wide, and he dropped the cheerful smile. He raised a hand towards Trahearne, and opened his mouth to say something, but the Marshal had raised his staff again, intending to keep him immobile and harmless until the Wardens arrived, already hearing commotion on the hallway outside his Grove office.

Something in the other’s face hardened, and he was suddenly directly in front of Trahearne, too close to attack with the staff. He barely had time to recover, before he was roughly grabbed by the back of the head and his forehead was colliding with-

The jungle, tall and dark and spine-shiveringly wrong

Tendrils in the earth, slithering and alive but dead, preying on the soldiers crawling over the many skins of their master

The silhouette of someone who might’ve been Nightmare Court, except not even they corrupt a body so heavily, distort it so much as to

Fire-warm metal chunks, half-buried in the loose, upturned soil, stinking of blood, surrounded by corpses, survivors, medics, a camp built on the wreckage

My friend, my other self, my- attacker, possessed by the jungle itself, trying to eradicate me, hints of power, of corruption, testing my defences, overwhelming the lessers, but I caught it, and I fought it off from him

Fangs and snarling and the Commander and a missive don’t come to the jungle don’t enter the domain of the Dragon don’t risk it just help me help me please doubt/worry/regret/guilt

He is bodily pushed backwards, and takes a minute to remember that he is Trahearne, and he’s in the Grove, and not currently in danger from anyone except a madman with some daggers, a gun, and the ability to project a vision immediately into his head.

“What?” Trahearne said, eloquently.

A knock sounded from the door. “Marshal, are you alright?” someone asked through the door, and he vaguely recognized the voice of the captain of the small personal Pact squad that was assigned to him. Cigna, he believed she was called.

Renfrac’s eyes bored into his, not moving away, not betraying any emotions. Trahearne took a step back instead, still bewildered.

The vision had been bleeding searing intensity and sincerity. He had difficulty reconciling it with the sylvari before him.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you, just a- a nightmare,” he said, raising his voice a little to penetrate the door. He wasn’t known for sleeping at regular times, or for experiencing particularly calming dreams.

“Okay,” she called back, sounding tired, “the airship’s due to leave soon, Marshal, let us know if you need help packing,” and then the metal-clank of Vigil armour faded into the distance.

Renfrac still hadn’t moved, posture or expression.

After another few moments, to be sure Cigna was no longer in earshot, Trahearne spoke up again.

“What in the name of the Pale Tree was that?”

“That’s the current state of the Maguuma Jungle, and the remains of the Pact that are in it,” Renfrac replied, visibly on edge.

Trahearne sighed. Sure, okay, they weren’t going to talk about what that was, then. He did not think interrogating this sylvari was going to yield anything but frustration.

“Fine. So, if I understood… that… correctly, I should not go to the Jungle?”

Renfrac’s stance lost some tension, but not all. “You would likely doom the world.”

“And your friend lives in this world,” Trahearne smiled. Renfrac’s worry and affection had stained the entire vision.

To his amusement, the other blushed violet for a moment, but did not look away. “He does,” he agreed.

Then the implications of the situation started sinking in. Trahearne grimaced and turned around to start pacing the small office.

“I will be unable to command directly; that’s going to be difficult,” he thought out loud.

“Just different from the war on Zhaitan,” Renfrac said. His posture had relaxed completely, and he had moved back to slouch against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve made a deal with your Commander, to act as messenger. I have a raptor, and I can defend myself against Mordremoth’s mental attacks.”

“All of these things would have been great to lead with, you know,” Trahearne grumbled, but this time, Renfrac just laughed. “Down to business then, I guess.”

He sat down at his desk. When he looked up, the other was still by the door, not showing a sign of intending to move.

Trahearne cleared his throat. “Did you have an actual report from the Commander as well, or did you just come to warn me to stay away?”

“Oh!” Renfrac said, jolting away from the frame, shrugging off his rifle to access a pocket on his belt, and producing a slightly-crumpled envelope from a pouch. He walked up to the desk and handed it over. It still had bits of moss on it.

“Uh, thank you,” Trahearne said, somewhat awkwardly. “I need to read this, perhaps unpack some documents to be able to write a reply - I’d nearly boarded the airship, you were lucky I still had one document to find - and then I’ll send captain Cigna to find you when I’m done, if you’d like to, uh, go and enjoy the Grove?”

Please leave me alone for a moment, I still need to process whatever that vision was and if possible find three books about similar phenomena, Trahearne didn’t say. But Renfrac just cringed a little, and said, “I’ve never felt particularly at home here, if I’m honest, so I’d rather just, if you perhaps have a book I could-”

And by the Pale Tree, if that didn’t hit right home. “Sure,” Trahearne said, pointing at a bookshelf to Renfrac’s right. “Those should be fairly digestible human history books.”

“Human history?” Renfrac made a sound of disgust at the book he’d just picked from the shelf, but didn’t drop it or put it back.

“Necessary for diplomacy,” Trahearne smiled. He was reminded of when he was still starting out in this. He had learned to enjoy the various topics related to his current occupation since, but he could still vividly remember the first months, when struggling through even one desiccated tome felt like a victory. It wouldn’t do for even a messenger to insult allies unknowingly.

Renfrac sent him a long-suffering glare, but sank to the floor with the book in his hands, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall. He doesn’t seem to enjoy the concept of chairs, Trahearne noted, before looking down to his own task, breaking the seal on the envelope, pulling out the letter, and reading the worst news he’d received in a good while.

#havoc writing #renfrac #trahearne #guild wars 2 #What's A Diplomacy #renfrac never asked anyone #i have already yelled at various people about this one while writing the first/second drafts #but if you have notes or observations or questions do poke me as well #unreliable narrator my beloved #the only time renfrac will admit to Emotions about Scothin is when he isn't narrating

11 notes · View notes

bedrasblog · 2 years

Text

Pursuit of Education

Growing up in Somaliland I always wondered why there were no pencils or writing materials in my house or any other houses we visited . as a child I was curious to find out why things were not the way they were like why I couldn't spell my name or why none of the girls in my neighborhood didn't attend school. My mom would always tell me just wait one day you will go to school you will learn how to spell, My mother was my biggest cheerleader. I knew whenever my mother told me I would be able to get whatever I desired like being able to go to school I believed her, I trusted my mom because I knew she would want me the academic opportunities she didn’t get to have. When I was a young girl everything my mother says I took it literally I always wanted to please her my love for writing was because I knew if I loved writing she would be happy for me. Living in Somaliland I did not have the opportunity to learn I didn't go to school only source of reading was the books my brothers had. I would sneak behind my brothers whenever they went to school, I remember flipping every page of my brother's book until I would look in the clock and see its almost the time they would arrive from school. My curiosity about learning how to read started from a young age although I didn't have the tools to learn I always strived to learn because I knew my mother didn't have the tools but she always provided for us. Every day she would wake up early in the mornings just to prepare our favorite meals I remember we lived in a small space one bed could fit the space nothing else but our mother made that small space feel like a mansion. Our morning breakfast was served before we even woke up my mother didn't have much but she would bring us our favorite snacks each one of her kids would bring their favorite snack. My mother made us our favorite breakfast food malwax the hotness of the crape like breakfast she was not afraid of fire she would touch the stove so hot to flip to the other side of the crape my mother wasn't afraid of her fears. My mother is cleaner if she ever comes home and there is a mess she doesn't sit down until the counter is clean and every piece of trash is picked up. When I was younger I did not understand why my mom would want to tire herself out Instead of just relaxing. I once asked my mom why she would do that and why she would tire herself out for us she answered that if we are fed with our favorite breakfast food even if it took her burning her food all she wanted was for her kids to learn in peace. she didn't want us to learn while hungry she didn't want us to learn while worried about cleaning. My mom's favorite thing in the world was to see her kids learn her kids to have educational opportunities she never had.

My first time picking a book of my own was in 2014 few months after we moved to the United States from Somaliland. I vividly remember flipping every page of the book it reminded me of my earlier memory of when I was sneaking behind my brothers to read their book but now this time I was flipping the pages of my book. Mrs. Evenstad was the first teacher I had in English. She taught me about the small details of the vowels. She taught me how to pronounce certain words like P. I struggled with the difference between p and b. Mrs. Evenstad would help my parents with understanding the school conferences they needed to attend. My mom finally was able to witness her children actively learning. every time I remember what my mom said about if people can't read they can't defend themselves it always brings me to keep on learning. My experience with writing has been positive because I started yearning for education I think it would have been different if I had the privilege to learn at an early age I would be grateful for education as much as I am right now. Mrs. Evenstad's classroom had flip cards with pictures of different careers people could do in the future. That's where I first found my love of wanting to be in social work. I saw a card that had a woman who was sitting in a classroom with lots of children. I asked Mrs.Evenstad what the occupation of this Individual is. She let me know that this person does social work as their career. After that, I wanted to be around children. My transition from my mom encouraging me to learn and write to having my book to read and learn how to write in Mrs. Evenstad's class was what prepared me to keep writing during high school. My experience with writing turned into a positive one during the pandemic I was most of the time around my friends but during the pandemic, I was left with my thoughts. In my sophomore year my father went back home I kept thinking of ways to communicate with my father I wanted to document my memories for him of how the school year went. I would go to a pond near my house every day just to sit during this I would have my journal with me, the first few days nothing came to my mind other than observing my surroundings like the people who were wearing masks, and the ducks near the pond. People biking I couldn't write much because it was the first time I was writing for enjoyment rather than for school. Writing has always been about school for me and how to perfect grammar in the right position. During quarantine, for the first time on my own I could write whatever came to my mind small big anything, so that's when I started birthday journals, writing for my father. I would write the birthday journal for myself to have a gift from myself it made me feel special. My letters to my father reminded me of when I was young and I wish I could write for him but then I could not write or even knew how to write but now I could write. while sitting near the pond I thought back to the day I didn't know what writing was in Mrs. Evenstad's class being taught about vowels, this sweet memory made me grateful I now could write for enjoyment. A few months into the pandemic my friends and I started writing to each other this was first started as a joke with me coming up with the idea we should start a journal together where we write for each other. Every new week someone writes in the journal about their memories things we missed about each other any memories we want to share. As I reflect now my writing experience has been a positive one. writing with passion shaped my relationship with writing .writing was no longer a chore for me but a way I could express myself for my loved ones. My experience of writing learning how to write in English was not the best but with all my hard work with the help of my elementary teacher Mrs. Evenstad I have stuck with learning. My mother's dream of us learning one day learning how to write and read academically has come true.

1 note · View note

andejoe · 3 years

Text

After a lifetime of teaching human relations, I knew which students were going to push the envelope and learn too much too soon. Jrlel was one such student. He was friends with a human named Sung-Jin and thought being early friends with a human meant he was ready for more.

We would find out if he was right.

I went up after a few minutes of hearing nothing. Some species were known to stop breathing when frightened, so I never allowed any student to be alone for too long. Jrlel was staring at the screen, the black and white scrawled image indicated the site he was on.

“Jrlel!”

Thankfully, he turned to me in an instant. He wasn’t struck dead from fear yet. He did not try to hide the screen, nor his shaking arms.

“What is that?” His voice was quiet, as if he might wake the creature from the screen.

“It is not real Jrlel.” I wanted to be assuring as I came closer to shut off the monitor.

Jrlel didn’t let me, and instead clicked another button, loading another page and another creature. “It looks real. It looks like one of our research articles for planetary exploration and rules of new species interaction.”

“But it isn’t real. These creatures do not exist, nor have they ever.” I succeeded in shutting the screen off that time.

“Why would Sung-Jin tell me about this?”

“He wanted to share his interest with you. This is a cautious activity all who make friends with a human eventually deal with.”

Jrlel stood, gesturing back at the dark screen. “What is that? Why do humans have those horrifying articles?”

“As best as historians are able to manage, it started as a creative writing experiment to scare other humans, but they enjoyed it so much it became a global hobby. They would invent these creatures and all the terrible things about them, and then share their creations with others. Sung-Jin has probably created a few himself.”

Jrlel looked pale. He fell backwards, back onto the chair.

“You must remember Jrlel, my rules are not intended to keep you from learning what humans know. My rules are to keep you safe from human creativity. When a species from a deathworld that has no real enemies in the food chain is as creative as humans are, the things they create to keep themselves at heightened awareness are more than most species can handle.”

“I think, I need to visit the medic.”

“That is probably wise. You should take a few days away from class as well. I also advise that you inform Sung-Jin of your reaction to this.”

“I’m not entirely sure I desire to be near him.”

“Nonsense. There is no one better to care for your fears than the humans who invent them. Besides, this will be a good lesson to Sung-Jin as well. If you were a prey species, you’d be dead right now.”

Jrlel didn’t look far from scared to death as we walked to the medical office. I left him there with Maerin and went to find Sung-Jin.

After I find him, I should probably look into having that site blocked off for only graduating students.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #scp foundation

772 notes · View notes

howl-fantasies · 3 years

Text

Gothams villains in a haunted house

A/N - I absolutely love horror movies, especially when they’re about spirits. There are four kinds of people when it comes to this subject : those who deny their very existence, those who don’t give a sh*t, those who are yelling bloody murder as soon as they are hearing a creak after the film, and those who know everything about spiritual theories, purification rituals, ecc. Then, what about our dear Gotham villains?

ED NYGMA / THE RIDDLER

Uh… how should he put this…GHOST AREN’T REAL Y/N!

Yes there is a logical and scientific explanation about the creaks : house is old, hot water dilates the pipes and make some noise… Give him a minute concerning the levitating chair, he’s processing that.

No, nope, nuh-uh… that must be a prank, there must be some wires somewhere. Or Oswald must have put something in your drinks. Or this is a collective hallucination.

Will end in a corner in recovery position, after a poltergeist threw your things all around the room. Not from fear but because EdBrain.exe has stopped working, he doesn’t understand. Wipe the foam from his mouth and give him a min to reboot.

When able to boot into safe mode, he will then see this as something he has to understand scientifically. Ok ghosts may exist but there must be a reason allowing them to manifest, like atoms, electromagnetic waves, something he has to record and document.

Wouldn’t be afraid at all, just seeing the creepy things as a giant experiment : FASCINATING Y/N, have you seen how all the religious items reversed? How is that physically possible?

Dude, knock him out and run. You’ve seen enough scary movies to know that’s no good. Put the blame on the ghost later when he’ll wake up but save your asses.

100% Would try to make a contract with the thing to scare the shit out of Oswald.

OSWALD COBBLEPOT

One creak and he would be screaming bloody murder, then accuse Ed, then scream again higher than any boys choir.

OH MY GOD Y/N WE NEED TO GET OUT! GET A BIBLE OR SOMETHING! CALL VICTOR TO SHOOT IT!

Would cling to you like his life is depending on it, maybe it is, who knows what are this thing’s intentions.

100% would cry when he would feel the bed shaking.

Would only activated the survival mode if the ghost is touching one of your hair or make a move to attack his sainted mother’s picture.

Then, be ready to see an already madman running and pulling you behind him to the kitchen and throw salt all around the room with a garlic necklace, YEAH you ALSO have to wear one, and throwing all dry herbs you have, so what if it’s parsley, maybe it has some bloody spiritual properties nobody knows about.

Same goes with holy water, if you have a bottle, he’ll throw it everywhere still screaming bloody murder.

At one point his screams might make you wonder if he didn’t get possessed, maybe when he was throwing cinnamon or something? No, no. It’s him, he’s just terrorized.

100% will run to his car, call Butch and demand him to abduct another group of nuns to bring them here and deal with the problem.

If nothing works, will call Firefly and order her to burn everything to the ground.

VICTOR ZSASZ

Well, probably one of the most lay back with the twins here.

Why are you waking me up Y/N? Something happened? He doesn’t know, he wasn’t listening, since he was sleeping, for once it’s a good excuse... “I don’t know, shoot it or something, let me sleep.”

100% would make the entity cry : shaking the bed? doesn’t give a shit. Throwing things around? Since he’s awake after the bed shaking, let’s sip at his milkshake and massage your scalp. An apparition “Say, Y/N if we have some fun like, right now, does it count as exhibitionism since the dude is dead?”

Ghost-san will 100% go to you then. Their mistake. As soon as they’d touch one hair, the thing would be hit by near 1,200 pages of Holy right in its transparent face. Talk about being touched by the grace…

Would 100% have a water pistol somewhere in his bag (I mean it’s still a weapon somehow, why wouldn’t he have one?), load holy water in it and annihilate the ghost. Like the snails in his garden, poor thing won’t see him coming, Victor would be the ghost here.

If it’s a wicked demon, the evil dude would 1/ Run for its eternal life seeing that “oh my devil it’s Victor Zsasz! Nope nope nope” 2/ Would try to recruit him his his infernal army. “Pal, you have to come with me, you would do great things. Terrible! Yes. But great.” Thanks Ollivander.

But since it’s not Falcone, Zsasz would just shoot it in the middle of its head then wonder if it counts as one or more for his tally. “What do you say Y/N?” “Wait a min, I’m still processing all of this dude.”

JONATHAN CRANE

Deadly combination here. Control your blood pressure or you’re gonna lose it dear.

Of course he’s not afraid, HE IS FEAR!

Pretty intrigued by the phenomenon, would be in denial like Ed at first, even wondering if he’s still immune to his toxin but as it’s a ghost and not a scarecrow, that shouldn’t be the case.

Then it’s real? What a discovery Y/N! First, let’s try to gas it, he would wonder if the dead still have fears.

If it didn’t do something he would want to capture it to study it, let’s active the Ghostbusters mode and run after it.

100% would see your boyfriend in his scarecrow pajamas running after the spooky ghost, who would be the one screaming bloody murder and cry, pleading you to help it escape the lunatic asking it what does it fears the most.

If the ghost is targeting you… I don’t know, try to meditate, picture an ASMR zen garden into your mind, or just knock yourself out because if you show any sign of fear, your boyfriend would be thrilled.

100% would take the ghost side to try to scare you… Breathe in and out, Y/N, blood pressure, knock yourself out, remember.

If you beg your man enough or if he grew bored with your lack of reaction (best poker face of the year congrats dear), would run after it with his scythe like an obsessive maniac (see Grell running after Sebastian, you have it here.)

JERVIS TETCH

Ghost? Haunted house? Must be Belphegor then, but why isn’t he in the Louvre? Or is he the phantom of the opera? Why the hell was he in your house then?

Yeah, wouldn’t fully grab the concept of ghost if not in classical literature...

100% would ask it if he’s lost because he followed the white rabbit and lost his way home? Did he listen that loony Cheshire Cat? Poor entity would rip his hair out in frustration because of your own lunatic boyfriend.

Tetch would try to hypnotize it but will start to panic if the ghost isn’t receptive to it. “Why it doesn’t work my dear Y/N? Do I have to call the Red Queen to have it decapitated? Oh no better, I’ll call the March Hare, he’s a creep specialist after all! He would know what to do!”

Would call Scarecrow and be utterly displeased when the boy will tell him to try to capture it and bring it to him. That’s not polite, Mister ghost and you haven’t even have any tea before, that’s bad manners Jonathan!

If hypnotizing is working, be ready for a late night show. Don’t panic, lay back grab some pop corn and “Oooh!” and “Aaaah” Your narcissistic man would appreciate.

If the ghost is trying to attack you, he would still make tea but with salt cubes in it and holy water as a base. Always be polite when you’re lethal, that’s basic.

Would 100% try to exorcise it with his Alice in Wonderland book, doesn’t work but great confusion for the Ghost he wouldn’t understand a thing and froze trying to process why, by the holy power of the Dormouse he has to go inside of the tea pot and let the two of you in peace?!

Would hypnotize a priest or nuns or the mail man, anybody to buy you two time and be able to run out of the house.

If the ghost takes his hat, then its war.

JEROME VALESKA

Can ghost laugh to...well not death, but you get the idea?

Jerome would be skeptical at first when your bed would be shaking. “Did you try to prank me with the bed Y/N? Not very creative everybody knows of the thing...” Oh you didn’t? He’s glad cause it was pretty lame.

Then he would scold the ghost for being boring. What kind of fun is that? No explosion? No chaos? No proper abduction?! And it dares to call itself a poltergeist?! 100% would try to carves a smile on his face with a crucifix, who knew dead could yell that loud...

If the entity try something on you, he’d not be too please cause it’s ignoring him and his scolding. Would scold you too cause you’re shaking when there’s no reason to. “Then what, he’d reverse all the religious items? We already saw that pal, no imagination here, it’s just an awful déjà vu you know!”

If it’s a demon, the thing would run while crying from frustration or, like Victor try to recruit him. But since Jerome is his own show and doesn’t work for anyone aside of himself for the sake of fun, the evil being will still finished with a forced and bleeding smile on his face.

Would be the only one who managed to capture it, and it would be one hell of a night.

Would definitely make you wake everyone up just to see him perform a prestidigitation show, so what if it’s 3AM?! You know what, even better, let’s capture Brucie and Jimbo to make a special show for them. Say goodbye to your night...

JEREMIAH VALESKA

Pretty much like Ed at the beginning. Ghost? Are you kidding him? Look it must be an earthquake which is making every item fall on the floor.

An apparition? Crap you and him must have inhaled some toxic gas, shouldn’t have stayed that long on the shore, look what it does to you!

When he would FINALLY understand that it IS a ghost, he would froze like an Internet Explorer’s page. Not even blinking. He’s lost. His entire life was a lie.

You would have to do the job with Ecco my dear. And she wouldn’t help that much since the bullet in her head seems to slow her thinking. “Can’t shoot him Ecc’! It’s ALREADY DEAD!”

Put a bible in her hands or, like Victor, a holy water pistol and she might be useful.

If the ghost attacks you and you’re injured, Jeremiah will be back.

Ok, time to remember all Ghostbusters gadgets and do some real engineering here, he would be the only one able to invent something able to kill this ectoplasm sack.

Would keep it somewhere to see if it could be an energetic source, or if the messing with technology ghost thing can be useful in his evil grand plan.

“Stop shaking dear, I dealt with it an hour ago, you’re just wasting energy.”

Don’t even try to talk to him, he’s scheming like a madman now, mumbling about abducting Bruce, and use a real ghost to scare the hell out of the boy with the help of Jonathan. Do something productive and go search for another one dead buddy in the house would you?

310 notes · View notes