#it was something to do with the movie cats as its own ritual

[shitty-tma-aus]

Au where Elias has a secret cat boy roleplay account that he never tells anyone about

The Eye tells Jon and he blackmails Elias into letting them all leave, thus preventing the apocalypse

y’know, this reminds me of an interesting fic series I read

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |9|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Nine: Struck by Cupid's Knife

Summary: After working up the courage, Tara asks you to spend Cupid’s birthday with her, but neither of you could have predicted the results.

Warning(s): Swearing (I think), arguing, Tara wearing The Skirt™️, innuendos, miscommunication/shit communication and mentions of masochism.

Notes: Reader’s a thirsty son of a bitch.

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next Part

You're sprawled on Tara's couch, one hand absently scratching behind Dookie's ears while the other reaches for your water. The cat purrs contentedly in your lap, a rare sight according to literally everyone who's ever met the notoriously selective feline. On screen, Leatherface is doing what Leatherface does best – terrorizing unsuspecting teenagers with questionable decision-making skills.

"You know," you muse, "for someone who claims to hate slashers, you sure own a lot of them."

Tara throws chips at your head. It misses spectacularly and lands on Dookie, who gives her the most withering look a cat can muster. "I never said I hate slashers. I said modern slashers lack the psychological complexity of—"

"—of 'Prom Night,' yes, we've all heard the dissertation," you interrupt, earning yourself another chip projectile. This one actually hits its mark. "Which, by the way, is absolutely not better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

"Oh my god, are you seriously starting this again?" Tara pauses the movie, turning to face you fully. "Angela Baker is iconic, sure, but—"

"But nothing! The psychological implications alone—"

"The psychological implications of a movie that ends with—"

You both start talking over each other, your voices rising with practiced familiarity of an argument you've had dozens of times before. Dookie lifts his head to watch the verbal tennis match, tail twitching with mild interest.

"Okay, okay," Tara finally concedes, though her tone suggests this is far from over. "We can agree to disagree. For now. But only because I'm starving and we still haven't decided on dinner."

"Indian?" you suggest innocently, already knowing the response you'll get.

Her eyes narrow. "You know damn well what happened last time."

"You mean when you insisted you could handle the spice level and then spent three hours complaining about heartburn?"

"I did not complain for three hours."

"You literally texted me at 3 AM to tell me your esophagus was staging a coup."

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! What's your brilliant suggestion then?"

You pretend to think about it, even though you both know exactly where this is heading. "Well, there's this place I know. Makes great burgers, killer onion rings, milkshakes that'll change your life…"

"You mean the same place we always go?"

"If it ain't broke, princess."

The nickname slips out before you can catch it, an old habit you can't seem to shake. Tara's expression does something complicated – a mix of annoyance, fondness, and something else you're not quite ready to analyze.

"Speaking of things that aren't broken," she starts, then stops, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "There's this Valentine's party next week…"

You focus very intently on Dookie's fur, suddenly finding the pattern fascinating. "Oh yeah? Sounds fun."

"Yeah, it's at Chad's place. You could… I mean, if you wanted…" She trails off, then quickly adds, "But you probably have plans."

"Actually," you say, still not looking up, "I was just gonna stay in. The new season of 'Yellowjackets' dropped and—"

"Oh." There's something in her voice that makes you finally look up. "That… that sounds good too."

A moment passes, filled only by the sound of Dookie's purring and the paused image of Leatherface on the TV.

"You could join," you offer, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "If you wanted. Instead of the party."

Tara's face brightens for a split second before she schools it into careful neutrality. "What happened to your sacred solo binge-watching ritual?"

"Well, Dookie's already broken that rule," you gesture to the cat who's now fully asleep in your lap. "Besides, someone needs to be there to judge my commentary."

"Your commentary definitely needs supervision," she agrees, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But what about Chad's party? You sure you don't want to…" she waves her hand vaguely.

You raise an eyebrow. "Want to what?"

"Nothing," she says quickly. "Just… you know. Meet people. Or whatever."

"Careful, Carpenter. That almost sounded like jealousy."

"You wish," she scoffs, but there's a faint blush creeping up her neck. "I just don't want you blaming me when you miss out on finding your soulmate at a frat party."

"Right, because nothing says true love like keg stands and questionable punch."

She throws more chips at you, but she's smiling now. "Shut up and watch the movie, dork."

You press play, and Leatherface resumes his rampage. But you can't help noticing how Tara seems more relaxed now, how she's shifted slightly closer on the couch. Dookie stretches in your lap, completely unbothered by the chainsaw sounds from the TV, and you think maybe this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Even if Tara is completely wrong about "Prom Night.

—

Valentine's Day arrives with all the subtlety of a horror movie jump scare. You're pacing your apartment, pretending you haven't spent the last hour deciding what to wear for what's supposedly just another movie night. Dookie, who somehow managed to sneak into your place during Tara's last visit and never left, watches you with judgmental eyes from his perch on your bookshelf.

"Don't give me that look," you mutter, adjusting your shirt for the hundredth time. "This is completely normal behavior."

Dookie blinks slowly, unconvinced.

Your phone buzzes with a text, and you definitely don't lunge for it like a teenager waiting for their crush to call.

Tara (6:45 PM): omw Tara (6:45 PM): with snacks Tara (6:46 PM): and NO you cannot veto my candy choices this time

You smile despite yourself, typing back a quick response.

Dork (6:46 PM): If you brought those weird swedish fish again, we're going to have words

When the knock finally comes, you open the door to find Tara wearing a skirt that makes your brain short-circuit. It's not even particularly revealing – just a simple black pleated number that hits just above her knees – but something about the way it moves when she walks past you makes your mouth go dry.

"Earth to Y/N," Tara waves a hand in front of your face. "You gonna let me in or just stand there having a stroke?"

You snap out of it, closing the door perhaps a bit too quickly. "Sorry, just… wondering if I should be concerned about what's in that suspiciously large grocery bag."

"Liar," she smirks, dropping said bag on your coffee table. "But I'll let it slide because I'm feeling generous."

Meanwhile, in a group chat you're blissfully unaware of:

CORE 4 & CO.

Mindy: TARA CARPENTER Mindy: YOU DID NOT JUST LEAVE THE HOUSE IN THAT SKIRT Mindy: TO GO WATCH TV Mindy: WITH YOUR “NEMESIS”

Sammy: Let her live, Mindy

Chad: anyone else find it sus that they're both skipping the party? 👀

Mindy: "skipping the party to watch yellowjackets" sure jan

Tara: i can see these messages you know

Mindy: EXACTLY Mindy: WE KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING

Chad: yeah wearing The Skirt™️

Tara: it's just a skirt omg Tara: and don't you all have better things to do??

Mindy: than watch you attempt to seduce your nemesis? Mindy: absolutely not

Sammy: I'm turning off notifications Sammy: have fun sis Sammy: and remember to text me if you end up staying the night

Tara: SAM

Back in your apartment, you're trying very hard to focus on setting up the TV and not on how Tara's legs look when she's curled up on your couch. It's just a skirt. You've seen skirts before. This should not be affecting you like this.

"You know," Tara's voice breaks through your internal crisis, "for someone who was so excited about this show, you're spending a lot of time staring at everything but the screen."

"I'm not—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off with a knowing look.

"The remote's upside down."

You look down. The remote is, indeed, upside down in your hands. "I'm trying a new technique," you deadpan, refusing to acknowledge the heat creeping up your neck.

"Uh-huh." She shifts on the couch, the movement causing her skirt to—nope, you're not looking. You're absolutely not looking. "You know, we could still go to Chad's party if you're having second thoughts."

There's something in her tone – a careful casualness that doesn't quite mask the uncertainty underneath. You finally look at her properly, taking in the way she's trying to appear nonchalant while picking at a loose thread on your couch cushion.

"And miss the chance to prove how superior 'Sleepaway Camp' is to your precious 'Prom Night'? Not a chance, Carpenter."

The relief that flashes across her face is brief but unmistakable. "Oh my god, you're still on that? You know what, just for that, I'm eating all the good candy."

"Bold of you to assume any of your candy choices qualify as 'good.'"

She throws a Swedish Fish at your head. You catch it with your mouth, surprising both of you.

"…Okay, that was actually impressive," she admits.

"I have hidden depths," you say solemnly, finally settling onto the couch beside her. "Now shut up and watch the show. I have theories about Lottie that will blow your mind."

As the opening credits roll, you're hyper-aware of every inch of space between you, of how her skirt brushes against your leg when she reaches for the snacks, of how this feels simultaneously like nothing and everything has changed.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Henry asking how your "not-date" is going – but you ignore it. Right now, all that matters is this moment: Tara's commentary about the show's color grading, the way she unconsciously leans into you during the tenser scenes, and how maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you both want to be.

The thing about watching TV with Tara Carpenter is that she can't sit still to save her life. She's constantly shifting, readjusting, finding new ways to accidentally-but-maybe-not-accidentally end up closer to you. It's maddening in the best possible way.

"That's not how decomposition works," she critiques, reaching across you for the popcorn. Her skirt rides up slightly with the movement, and you suddenly find the ceiling fascinating. "The timeline is completely unrealistic."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was sitting next to a forensics expert," you quip, trying to ignore how she hasn't fully moved back to her original position. "Please, enlighten us with your extensive knowledge of body disposal."

She turns to face you, and you immediately regret your life choices because now she's even closer, her eyes sparkling with that dangerous mix of challenge and amusement that always spells trouble.

"Well, considering the ambient temperature and soil composition—"

"Is this the part where I should be concerned about your search history?"

"Please," she scoffs, but there's a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Like yours is any better, Miss 'I-need-to-research-medieval-torture-devices-for-academic-purposes.'"

"That was one time!"

"The FBI agent watching your browser history probably needs therapy."

You're about to retort when she shifts again, and suddenly her leg is pressed against yours. All coherent thoughts evacuate your brain without so much as a goodbye note.

"You okay there?" she asks, and there's something in her tone that suggests she knows exactly what she's doing. "You seem a little… distracted."

Two can play at this game.

"Just thinking about proper body disposal techniques," you say innocently, stretching your arm across the back of the couch. Not quite around her shoulders, but the implication is there. "You know, for academic purposes."

She raises an eyebrow. "Is that your way of threatening to murder me? Because I've got to say, your technique needs work."

"If I was going to murder you, Carpenter, you'd never see it coming."

"Promises, promises."

The air between you crackles with something that definitely isn't just friendly banter anymore. On screen, someone is probably being dramatically eviscerated, but you couldn't care less because Tara is looking at you with that half-smile that makes your stomach do Olympic-level gymnastics.

Your phone buzzes again, breaking the moment. This time, it's a series of texts from Henry:

Henry (8:15 PM): so how's the not-date going?? Henry (8:15 PM): has anyone been murdered yet Henry (8:16 PM): either literally or metaphorically Henry (8:16 PM): also tony says hi and wants to know if you've kissed her yet

"Something important?" Tara asks, and you quickly lock your phone before she can see the messages.

"Just Henry being Henry," you say, silently plotting your best friend's demise. "Probably asking if we've murdered each other yet."

"Night's still young," she shrugs, but she's still got that look in her eyes that makes you want to either kiss her or start an argument about horror movie tropes. Possibly both.

"Speaking of murder," you say instead, because you're a master of deflection, "want to hear my theory about why 'Sleepaway Camp' is actually a groundbreaking commentary on—"

She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. "Oh my god, you're actually the worst."

"That's not what you said when I brought you soup when you caught the flu."

"That was before I knew you'd use it as ammunition in your endless crusade against good taste in movies."

"Bold words from someone wearing a skirt that's clearly meant to be a distraction from your terrible opinions."

The words are out before your brain can stop them. Tara goes very still, and for a moment you think you've miscalculated spectacularly. But then she looks at you with an expression that's somewhere between amusement and challenge.

"Is it working?"

Your mouth goes dry. "What?"

"The distraction," she says, and you swear she moves even closer. "Is it working?"

You're saved from having to answer by Dookie, who chooses this exact moment to jump between you, apparently deciding he's been ignored for far too long. The cat gives you both a look that clearly says "I've had enough of your nonsense."

"Traitor," you mutter to the cat, who responds by making himself comfortable across both your laps, effectively creating a furry barrier between you and Tara.

Tara laughs, scratching behind Dookie's ears. "My hero," she coos to the cat. "Saving me from another lecture about Angela Baker's psychological complexity."

"You're both against me," you declare dramatically. "I'm being ganged up on in my own home."

"Cry about it," she suggests sweetly, but she's leaning against your shoulder now, and Dookie is purring, and maybe being ganged up on isn't the worst thing in the world.

—

"I cannot believe you're still defending this," you say, watching in horror as Tara drowns her mac and cheese in a truly concerning amount of hot sauce. "This is actually painful to witness."

"You're being dramatic," she retorts, adding what appears to be her entire body weight in ketchup to the already crime-scene-worthy pasta. "Some of us actually like flavor."

"Flavor? That's—" you're interrupted by the doorbell, which is probably for the best because you were about to launch into a dissertation about the difference between flavor and masochism.

"I'll get it," Tara says, but you're already standing up.

"Absolutely not. I've seen enough horror movies to know the cute girl who answers the door always dies first."

The word 'cute' slips out before you can catch it, and you practically sprint to the door to avoid seeing her reaction. This proves to be a tactical error when you open it to find possibly the most conventionally attractive pizza delivery guy you've ever seen, complete with the kind of jawline that belongs on a CW show.

"Hey," he says, then looks past you to where Tara has appeared behind your shoulder. His entire demeanor shifts, voice dropping an octave. "Hey."

You resist the urge to close the door in his face.

"That'll be twenty-four fifty," he says to Tara, completely ignoring your existence. "Though I could make it free if you'd let me take you out sometime."

Something hot and uncomfortable coils in your stomach. You reach for your wallet, but Tara beats you to it, pulling out cash from her pocket.

"Here's thirty," she says, a slight flush creeping up her neck. "Keep the change."

"You sure I can't convince you?" He flashes a smile that probably works wonders at frat parties. "I make a mean pasta. No ketchup required."

Your head snaps up at that. He must have overheard your earlier conversation, which means he's been standing here long enough to eavesdrop, which means—

"She likes her pasta exactly how she likes it," you say, perhaps a bit sharper than necessary, taking the pizza from his hands. "Thanks for the delivery."

You close the door before he can respond, turning to find Tara looking at you with an expression that makes your heart do something complicated in your chest. The flush on her neck has spread to her cheeks.

"So," she says, voice carefully neutral but eyes dancing with something that looks suspiciously like amusement. "No ketchup required, huh?"

"Don't start," you mutter, carrying the pizza to the kitchen. "And don't even think about putting hot sauce on this. I saw you wincing earlier from your mac and cheese."

"My tongue is fine," she protests, following you. "Besides, maybe I like the burn."

"Your masochistic tendencies are concerning, Carpenter."

She hops up onto your counter, legs swinging slightly in that stupid perfect skirt. "Says the person who just went full guard dog on the pizza guy."

"I did not—" you start, then catch the look on her face. "I was just… concerned about food temperature maintenance."

"Uh-huh." She's full-on grinning now, cheeks still tinged pink. "And I suppose the death glare was just about proper pizza handling protocols?"

"You know what?" You grab a slice, pointedly avoiding her gaze. "I preferred it when you were defending your crimes against pasta."

"Speaking of which…" She reaches for the bottle of hot sauce she apparently manifested from thin air.

"Absolutely not." You snatch it away, holding it above your head. "I'm not listening to you complain about tongue burn all night again."

"Bold of you to assume I need your permission," she says, sliding off the counter and stepping closer. Much closer. Close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.

Your breath catches. She reaches up, ostensibly for the hot sauce, but her hand lands on your wrist instead. Neither of you moves.

"Tara," you say, voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Your mac and cheese is getting cold."

She laughs, the sound soft and close, and you think maybe this is better than any Valentine's party could ever be. Even if she is completely wrong about pasta condiments.

"You're impossible," she says, but she's smiling, and she hasn't moved away, and maybe—

Dookie chooses this exact moment to knock over the entire box of pizza.

"Traitor," you both say in unison, then look at each other and burst out laughing.

The moment breaks, but something else settles in its place – something warm and comfortable and maybe a little bit inevitable. Like the way Tara's hand is still on your wrist, or how she's looking at you with that half-smile that makes your heart skip beats.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, screen lighting up with a notification. Tara glances at it reflexively, and something in her expression shifts – subtle enough that someone who doesn't know her as well as you do might miss it, but you've spent months cataloging her micro-expressions during horror movie marathons.

"Charlotte?" she says, and there's something in her voice that makes your stomach drop. "Didn't realize you two were still talking."

You reach for your phone, but Tara's already turning away, suddenly very interested in reorganizing the scattered pizza toppings on her plate. "It's not—"

"No, it's fine," she cuts you off, but her shoulders are tense in that way they get when she's trying too hard to seem casual. "I mean, obviously you can talk to whoever you want."

"Tara."

"I just thought after what happened at New Year's—"

"Nothing happened at New Year's," you say, perhaps a bit too quickly. "We just talked."

She lets out a laugh that doesn't sound like a laugh at all. "Right. Because that's totally why you disappeared for an hour and came back looking like—"

"Like what?" There's an edge to your voice now, the playful atmosphere from earlier evaporating like morning dew. "Come on, Carpenter. Say what you really mean."

She finally looks at you, and there's something raw in her expression that makes your chest ache. "Like you'd rather be anywhere else. With anyone else."

"That's not—" you start, but she's on a roll now.

"You know what? It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have…" she trails off, pushing her plate away. "This was stupid. I should go."

"Are you seriously doing this right now?" You follow her as she starts gathering her things. "Over a text message you didn't even read?"

"This isn't about the text," she says, but she won't meet your eyes. "This is about you always having one foot out the door."

"Me?" You can't help the incredulous laugh that escapes. "That's rich coming from someone who can't even admit why she really skipped Chad's party tonight."

She freezes, one hand on her bag. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means." Your heart is pounding, words spilling out before you can stop them. "You're not the only one who's allowed to be scared, Tara."

The silence that follows is deafening. Even Dookie seems to be holding his breath, watching from his perch on the bookshelf with unblinking eyes.

"I'm not scared," she says finally, but her voice wavers slightly.

"No?" You step closer, close enough to see the pulse jumping in her throat. "Then why are you running?"

She looks up at you then, and there's something in her eyes that makes your breath catch – a mix of vulnerability and defiance that's so uniquely Tara it makes your heart hurt.

"Because you let her kiss you," she whispers, and the words hang in the air between you like smoke. "At New Year's. You let her kiss you, and then you came back and acted like nothing happened, and I—"

"She didn't kiss me," you interrupt softly. "I stopped her."

Tara blinks. "What?"

"She tried, yeah. But I stopped her." You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "Because apparently I'm pathetically gone for someone who puts ketchup in her mac and cheese and thinks 'Prom Night' is better than 'Sleepaway Camp.'"

A beat passes. Then another. Tara's still holding her bag, but her grip has loosened.

"Pathetically?" she repeats, and there's a hint of something in her voice that might be hope.

"Absolutely tragic levels," you confirm, taking another step closer. "It's embarrassing, really. I can't even enjoy pizza delivery without getting jealous."

A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "That was pretty embarrassing."

"Says the person who wore The Skirt™️ to watch Yellowjackets."

She flushes, but she's not running anymore. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Tara," you say softly, "I notice everything about you. It's kind of the problem."

She looks at you for a long moment, then slowly sets her bag down. "You really stopped her?"

"Of course I did." You reach out, tentatively tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Some of us don't have terrible taste in everything."

She laughs, the sound watery but real. "Just in movies, right?"

"And pasta condiments," you agree, and when she smiles, it feels like coming home.

The moment stretches between you like taffy, sweet and fragile. Tara's looking at you with those eyes that always make you forget how to breathe properly, and you're close enough to count her freckles, to see the way her pulse flutters in her throat. Her hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with a certainty that makes your heart stutter.

You could kiss her. You should kiss her. Everything in you is screaming to close that final distance.

Instead, you step back.

The hurt that flashes across her face is gone so quickly you almost convince yourself you imagined it. Almost.

"I can't," you whisper, and the words taste like ash in your mouth. "Not like this."

"Like what?" Her voice is carefully neutral, but you can see her walls going up, brick by careful brick. "With me?"

"That's not—" You run a hand through your hair, frustrated. "You're upset about Charlotte, and the pizza guy, and—"

"Don't." She pulls her hand away, and the loss of contact feels like a physical ache. "Don't you dare try to explain away what just happened."

"I'm trying to protect—"

"Me?" She laughs, but it's a hollow sound that doesn't reach her eyes. "From what, exactly? From making my own decisions? From wanting something that apparently terrifies you?"

"That's not fair."

"No?" She takes a step back, and somehow that small distance feels like miles. "Then what is this, really? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you're the one with one foot out the door."

The words hit like a slap, echoing your earlier accusation back at you. "Tara—"

"You know what the worst part is?" She's gathering her things again, movements sharp and jerky. "For a second there, I actually thought… God, I'm such an idiot."

"You're not—"

"Save it." She's not looking at you anymore, focused intently on collecting her scattered belongings. "I get it, okay? You're not ready, or you're scared, or whatever excuse you want to use. But don't pretend this is about protecting me."

You want to stop her. Want to explain that you're terrified of ruining this, of losing her, of what happens when the Valentine's Day magic wears off and she realizes you're not worth all this trouble. Want to tell her that you've never been good at keeping the things you love.

Instead, you watch her shrug on her jacket, that stupid perfect skirt swishing with the movement.

"Tara, please—"

"I should go," she says, and her voice is steady even though her hands are shaking slightly. "Before I say something we'll both regret."

Dookie watches from his perch as she heads for the door, tail twitching like he's judging your life choices. You don't blame him.

She pauses at the threshold, one hand on the doorknob. For a moment, you think she might turn around, might give you another chance to fix this. But then her shoulders straighten, and you know what's coming before she says it.

"For the record?" Her voice is quiet but clear. "You're wrong. About everything"

The door closes behind her with a soft click that somehow sounds louder than a slam would have. You stand there in the silence, surrounded by half-eaten pizza and the lingering scent of her perfume, thinking about all the ways hearts break in horror movies versus real life.

-------

A/N: I feel like a cartoon villain. It's nice.

[gingerteafairy]

five stars (kai anderson x reader)

“I’m not going to say that bullshit they say on the anti-suicide program, but i wanna to offer you something.” He broke the silence, drawing her attention. "I want you to be my friend."  

tags n warnings: angst, depression, suicide, violence, dark humour, threading, cursing, movie night. word count: 1.8k

friendly reminder: if those themes are triggering for you, please don't read and be safe. part two masterlist

"When everything feels lost, there's always a way."

"There's always a light at the end of the tunnel."

"There are so many reasons to stay alive."

These were phrases she'd heard a thousand times, and she couldn't bear them anymore. Nothing made sense anymore. Life had lost its flavor. Social connections no longer mattered. She was exhausted from hiding her sadness behind a smile.

It wasn’t just that it felt like the end of the world. For her, it was the end of the world. Each day bled into the next, and every week dragged on with the same suffocating monotony.

That night, like so many others, she was alone again, sitting on her worn-out couch, halfway through another artsy, depressing cult movie. Her bowl of popcorn rested on her lap, untouched except for the occasional absentminded bite. The kind of night that had become a ritual in her solitude.

And then, she heard it. A strange noise coming from inside the house.

She frowned, glancing toward the dark hallway. "Probably just the cat," she muttered, turning her focus back to the screen. But before she could settle back into her movie, movement caught her eye.

She turned her head and froze. Standing in the living room were clowns. Armed clowns, wearing grotesque, horrifying masks that seemed designed to haunt nightmares.

Her reaction wasn’t what anyone might expect.

She rolled her eyes, sighed heavily, and shoved another handful of popcorn into her mouth. "What? There's room for everyone in here," she said, motioning toward the empty space on the couch.

The clowns exchanged awkward glances, clearly taken aback. Their hesitation was almost comical, as if they'd rehearsed for terror but hadn’t anticipated apathy.

One of them finally stepped forward, pointing a gun to her face with a cynical laugh. 

“Looks like someone’s gonna die today.” He laughed darkly under his mask and everyone joined in with a ridiculous, completely poorly rehearsed chorus.

“Ave satanas.” 

“Oh, okay. Ritual. Cool.” She rubbed her temples, trying to concentrate on the movie. 

“Allow me to be clear with you.” He began, scoffing. “I’m gonna make your death very slow then. Torture, my dear. You're gonna fucking cry and piss on my shoe begging for mercy.”

It felt like a dumb joke from middle school. She sighed deeply, bored, and took a sip of her soda before finally raising her eyes to the clown who seemed to be the leader.

"Come on, just get it over with. You’d be doing me a favor."  

They froze. It was as if their weapons suddenly lost all meaning in the face of her indifference. The one standing in front of her hesitated, then slowly removed his mask. His face was flushed, sweat clinging to the strands of blue hair stuck to his forehead. He frowned, opening his mouth to speak but closing it again several times before letting out a disbelieving laugh.  

"Well, look at that. We’ve got ourselves a brave one," he mocked, though she could sense something beneath the surface. For her, it was obvious: he was lost.  

"Whatever," she muttered, shrugging and taking another sip of her drink.  

Frustrated, he grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking it hard.  

"You're hurting me," she said flatly, her voice devoid of emotion.  

"Am I? Do you like that, slut?" He tried to reassert control, leaning into his role, but the emptiness in her eyes cut through him. It unnerved him, struck a nerve deep within his soul—a reflection of his own hollow, rotten existence. His grip slackened, though he didn’t let go completely.  

"Everyone. Out," he commanded, his voice cold.  

The others hesitated but obeyed, filing out through the same entrance they’d come in, leaving her alone with him—the monster with angelic features, his blue hair pale and lifeless like his dark eyes.  

"I’ve never met anyone like you," he murmured, releasing her hair and taking a seat on the couch beside her.  

She rubbed her scalp where his fingers had gripped too tightly, then leaned back against the sofa. "Statistically, there are millions like me," she replied, her tone detached.  

"No," he said firmly. "Those people are weak. If I threatened them with death, they’d piss themselves and beg for mercy. They’d see life differently after a near-death experience. They’d find religion, move to the suburbs, have three kids—one of whom would end up depressed." He spoke with an almost authoritarian certainty, like he’d spent hours obsessively researching this.  

"But you… You just stared at me. Like a bullet to the head would be better than spending another second in this world. Like you weren’t afraid of anything."  

"I'm afraid of plenty of things," she admitted in a voice heavy with the weight of years spent battling depression. "I’m just not afraid of death."  

He leaned closer, studying her face as if searching for answers. "What are you afraid of?" he asked, his voice quieter now.  

She sighed, her gaze fixed on the flickering television screen. "Everything."  

He didn’t respond right away, his expression a mix of curiosity, disdain, and something almost like admiration. In her brokenness, he saw himself. It was unsettling, like staring into a mirror that reflected all the worst parts of his existence.  

Clicking his tongue, he leaned back, his attention shifting briefly to the TV.  

“I’m not going to say that bullshit they say on the anti-suicide program, but i wanna to offer you something.” He broke the silence, drawing her attention. "I want you to be my friend."  

For the first time, she showed a genuine reaction—her eyes widened in surprise, followed by a strange, almost stifled laugh. "You’ll regret it. I’m terrible with people."  

"Fuck it. I don’t want normal people who think they’ve got life all figured out," he muttered. His expression softened slightly as he looked at her, his gaze tinged with an unexpected tenderness. "Look, I’m… a bit of an odd guy myself, to put it mildly."  

"Yeah, I noticed," she teased, giving him a sidelong glance. "Odd doesn’t even begin to cover it. You’re straight-up bizarre. Honestly, you’re worse off than me."  

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, she burst into laughter—a real, honest laugh that came from deep within her chest. The sound silenced him, and he found himself smiling without meaning to.  

"What?" she asked, catching her breath, noticing the way he was watching her.  

"I knew it," he said, shaking his head with a confident grin. "I knew this would happen. Women just need a man to be happy. A penis appeared and they're magically happy. Fuck, really, women—"  

"Oh my God, you really are worse than me!" she interrupted, her laughter growing louder as she swung her dangling legs back and forth. "You’re insane."  

"They call insanity what is, in fact, clarity," he said with a smirk, raising an eyebrow as he adjusted his jacket with exaggerated arrogance. "Feminism ruined women, made them think they don’t need men. Now they work, they don’t want kids, and depression rates have skyrocketed. That’s no coincidence."  

She stifled a grin, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing outright. Then she reached out, lightly poking his forehead with her finger before pulling back playfully. "You’ve got a little problem… right here, you fucking shitty incel.” 

“Incel?” He snorted, trying to hide his ego behind the sound. “For your information, I have sex regularly with several women.”

She laughed through her nose. “Oh, and are they wasted or did you kill them first?”

He clenched his jaw, grabbing her face with a considerable grip. “Girl, don’t get on my nerves or I’ll go back to that offer to fucking kill you.”

“The one I said would be a favor?” She replied and he released her face, running his hand through his hair.

“Crazy bitch.” he hissed, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. She couldn’t either, smiling at the unexpected moment.  "You look beautiful when you smile," 

"Thanks. Hey, wait a second... aren’t you Councilman Kai?" she asked, narrowing her eyes as she leaned in to get a better look at him. "It is you. I knew I recognized you from somewhere."  

"Fuck," he said, his smile quickly breaking into loud laughter that echoed through the house. "Yeah, that’s me. But, uh, you promise not to tell anyone about the break-ins, right? I don’t know any other way to convince you. Honestly, you’re so crazy, I could probably hit you, and you’d thank me for making you feel something."  

"Nope, I don’t have that.kind of kink. My only kink is being loved and happy. So i think I'm pretty vanilla.” she joked, earning another laugh from Kai. He looked at her with something like admiration.  

"Alright, I think I’ll take you up on your offer, red pill guy," she continued with a smirk. "I’ll be your friend. At least you make me laugh and don’t talk complete nonsense about not wasting the precious gift of life with suicide."  

He grinned and extended his hand for a friendly shake. "You won’t regret it, Miss Depressive," he said, releasing her hand before lightly ruffling the spot on her head where he’d pulled her hair earlier. His gaze drifted to the TV.  

"So, what are you watching?"  

"Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” she replied.  

"Fucking loser movie," he scoffed, glancing at her with a teasing smirk. "No offense, of course."  

"Yeah? Let me guess—your favorite movies are A Clockwork Orange and Fight Club, huh, shitty incel? Probably gave 5 stars for American Psycho on letterboxd or talk about something on the red pill blog or shit."  

“First of all. Letterboxd are for fags and girls. I'm the only real exception on that app.” he declared triumphantly, throwing himself onto the couch beside her. "Second. These are movies for real men. Could pass you my user so you can watch a real movie for once. Clear your brain from this mess.” 

“Yeah, totally.” She mocked, giggling and lazily lying on the couch watching, resting her legs on his lap, because Kai Anderson just manspread and her only option was giving up and enjoying the new company. 

Of course, Kai planned this. He liked her legs ever since he sat on the couch. Thigh kink was a real thing for him, it could distract from the “lame movie”.

Spoiler: he ended up watching the entire movie with her and even asked to watch another one of those "loser movies" afterward. For research purposes, of course. Understanding her mind could help him in his ultimate depression treatment, 100% effective, no failure. She wouldn't know anything, she would just appear cured and thanking him. Yes. Maybe that's the ending of his movie. A perfect ending for a perfect man. 

He liked the movie. A lot.

thekingdivineruler

All Bright Places ☆☆☆☆ Before Sunrise☆☆☆☆☆ Girl, Interrupted☆Beautiful Boy☆☆☆☆

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind 2004

☆☆☆☆☆ ♡

Don't judge me, i watched with my girlfriend. 

....Okay. This shit is good.

Judge me and she's not my girlfriend

(yet)

COMMENTS

yourusername: never. xoxo

taglist: @courta13

[dark-corner-cunning]

Do you have any advice for someone who has a hard time with concentration, but needs to focus a large amount of intention and energy for a working?

Good morning! Apologies for the delayed response—I’m currently battling a cold that came with a charmingly annoying little cough as its sidekick.

Ah, focus—such a fickle friend, isn’t it? Especially when you’re trying to channel a ton of energy, and your brain is doing the mental equivalent of chasing squirrels. If you’re anything like me (hello, ADHD club), concentration can feel like trying to herd cats. Focus? Patience? Staying on task? Let’s just say it’s an ongoing magickal adventure!

The first thing everyone always says is, “Have you tried grounding?” Cue the eye rolls, right? Like, we haven’t heard that one before! Don’t worry— let me share 3 ways how I plan ahead and work with my natural flow (chaotic as it may be) instead of fighting against it. Sidenote #3 is my favorite way.

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Simplify Your Working: If focusing for long stretches feels like a Herculean task, don’t sweat it—simplify your working! Break it into smaller, bite-sized steps. Sometimes, less is more when it comes to channeling energy effectively. Think of magick as more of a slow-brew tea than a microwave dinner. It’s not about dumping all your energy into the cauldron at once—it’s about building intention over time, in a way that works with your natural rhythm. You can always put in some energy and focus during the working, take a breather, and then jump back in when you’re ready. It doesn’t have to be a nonstop, all-or-nothing thing. Magick flows in waves, and sometimes giving yourself space to rest between bursts of intention can actually make your energy even stronger.

Okay, here’s something I do: instead of going full throttle preparing & during the working, I like to ease into it by charging my tools and ingredients beforehand with energy that activates or releases during the working. Sometimes I’ll even do these days before—I mean, why rush? I like to think of my tools as little magickal batteries, just soaking up energy until it’s time to unleash all that power in my working. And seriously, forget the whole “hold your tools dramatically, chant something intense, and try to visualize every single detail” thing. Try something way more fun, like blasting music that matches your working’s vibe. Whether it’s a broody instrumental or “Money” by Cardi B for your money-working, let the music help you weave the energy in. After all, it’s magick, not a marathon—you’ve got all the time to make it your own and have a little fun with it.

Incorporate Movement Into Your Working – Movement is a powerful way to channel energy, especially when you’re feeling scattered. Many traditions, like those of hedge witches and folk magick, used movement to raise and direct intention—whether it’s dancing, circling, or even just walking the land or around your space. The physical act of moving helps to ground that restless energy, so you can focus without needing to hold still for too long. You can sway, dance, or even use something rhythmic like drumming to guide the energy, turning the working into something more dynamic and connected to the natural flow of your body and the world around you. It’s kind of like that iconic scene from the movie The Proposal, where Sandra Bullock and Betty White turn “Get Low” into a chant during a ritual. Seriously, if you're feeling it, channel your inner dance witch and let the magick flow—no matter how ridiculous you think you look. Lil Jon is optional, but let’s be real—it’s highly encouraged.

Make An Energy Charm For Workings – Alright, small witchy confession time: I adore clear quartz. Seriously, it’s like the Swiss Army knife of crystals—so versatile and, best part, it's super affordable. You don’t need some fancy, pricey chunk of it either—a $4 piece from your local witchy shop will do just fine. Clear quartz is like the energy sponge of the crystal world—it absorbs, stores, and amplifies with ease. I love to grab a piece and start feeding it energy and intentions for my workings in the days leading up to it. It's like I’m charging up a little magickal car battery! Then, when it’s time to work my working, I just incorporate it into the working. It’s like giving me the fuel for my magick when I need it most, and then letting me run wild with whatever quirky, chaotic idea pops into my head!

So, here’s how I might charge up my crystal energy charm in the days leading up to a working (there is no order to this). I might let it bask under the full moon to soak up that sweet lunar energy (trust me, the sun is not the vibe—I’ve literally set things on fire before, not cute). I might sing and dance with it, because why not? Throw it on a Bluetooth speaker and play some frequencies that align with my intention (Youtube has a frequency for everything). There have even been moments when I’ve screamed at it, cried over it, or poured out all my anger and frustration—because, honestly, giving your charm all those heavy emotions is amazing when you’re prepping for a big working that may require a lot of energy. It clears your head, and, bonus, it’ll amplify whatever you give it. Just make sure you tie your charm to your working. You can totally just hold your charm, walk or circle it clockwise around your working, and casually remind it what you’re asking it to do. Like, “Hey charm, feed this working, please and thank you!” Simple, but effective.

You don’t have to use clear quartz, of course—that’s just my go-to. Pick what feels right for you! But I’m just sharing this as a simple, powerful, and ridiculously effective way to help others who may find concertation hard at times. Trust me, it works like a charm (pun totally intended).

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Well, I hope you found some inspiration in the ideas I shared here! Magick is all about finding what works for you, so feel free to take what resonates and leave the rest. And remember, even when it feels like your focus is a little... well, all over the place, that’s still part of the magick. Keep weaving your intentions, one working at a time—you're doing great! Now go forth and make some witchy wonders happen! ✨🖤

[the-hornedwitch]

The Divine in the Mundane: Rock Me Asmodeus

I was minding my own business watching F is for Family one day. Numbing out, because I was in the midst of a very large Tower Moment in my life. There's only so much psychic shit storm you can take before you need to lay down and go autopilot. Next thing I know, Maureen is swinging a glass eye on a string summoning Asmodeus son of darkness in the back seat of her mom's station wagon.

Ok, Bill Burr. Time out. I really do not want to overthink this, but I have been surfing the synchronicity wave for ten months now. I need a break.

It was a running gag, for a few episodes. I laughed, it amused me and it had me thinking about that wave I had been surfing.

Synchronicities, as I have come to understand, is something I like to call a ping from The Universe/Divine/Higher Self/Ancestors. They often happen when we aren't looking for them, and tend to come up in various ways. A common one most 'spiritualists' hyperfixate on is the Angel numbers. Yes, these are fun little things, fun little clues. There's more to synchronization than repeating numbers. It is the way events line up in one's life. Much like how many Christians view providence, miracles, and serendipity. They are 'coincidences' that really aren't. Follow me?

I do my very best to stay as grounded as possible. I am a very creative and imaginative person, who has never finished the main quest for Skyrim, because the side quests (Dark Brotherhood first chance I get) are fun. So, I do my best to not overthink, or look too deeply into things. (INFP problems) Every now and then, something catches my attention. Much like Maureen with her glass eye, summoning Asmodeus.

I didn't know much about Asmodeus at the time nor had I had the pleasure of a conference with Him. What little I did know was that a bunch of nuns really liked Him back in the day, apparently. As well as His Offices being more of the Mundane realms, such as basic primal needs and desires.

At the time, I wasn't doing any sort of 'craft' work outside of meditation and shadow work. The only Divine I was seeking counsel from were those within my personal pantheon, three primary ones in particular. So the idea of seeking out yet another potential family member while I was in such a difficult place.....well I'm a silly little human.

So in my attempt to remain sane, I brushed aside the whispers of Asmodeus as just a figment of my imagination. Oh what a silly human I am.

So I'm minding my own business, having a conversation with a fellow LHP friend and guess who shows up in the conversation?

Safe Word.

Time Out.

To be fair me and this particular friend have very very deep discussions in regards to the 'Them' so, someone's gonna show up its fine...it's fine. It's not that deep. You create your reality, chill. No Pattern seeking.

As I laid in the rubble of my epic fall, a few months after the conversation. Purging all that needed to be purged, I found myself curled up on a couch with a seized back - from sweeping up cat food of all things. There I was, watching Gerald Butler attempt to exorcize Asmodeus in the basement of a Spanish church, and I thought 'fucking really'? I couldn't even escape Him in my attempt to mindlessly watch a horror movie.

The Universe has a sense of humor, doesn't it? Here I was, literally brought low by the most mundane of tasks, while continuously hearing the name Asmodeus. Because that's the thing about The Divine - They don't just deal in grand gestures and dramatic rituals. Their lessons come through the everyday, the ordinary, the supposedly insignificant moments that make up our lives.

These weren't lessons learned in meditation or ritual - they came through living, through falling apart and putting myself back together. Asmodeus showed me through the raw, messy process of rebuilding my life - that understanding addiction and the importance of real self-care isn't about grand gestures or elaborate routines. It's about recognizing where our compulsions come from, being honest about our soul's true desires, and learning to genuinely care for our ego instead of fighting it.

The Divine has this subtle, beautiful way of working through the mundane, but we're often too busy being human {hyper-fixating on repeating numbers} to notice. We're looking for grand signs while They're working through our everyday chaos, taking us exactly where we need to be.

And there I was, like so many others, complaining and crying and wondering what I did wrong. Why was all this 'bad' stuff happening when I thought I was doing everything 'right'? But that's the thing about divine guidance - it rarely looks like what we expect. Sometimes it looks like Maureen swinging a glass eye in a station wagon, a back injury from sweeping up cat food, a situation-ship that needed to end. The lessons are there, woven into the fabric of our daily lives. We just have to be willing to see them.

[augment-techs]

Cliché, Fetish, kink, and trope headcanon asks

Javi/Ollie

C, B, D, T, L, N, F

(Still someone should throw me down a river 😭)

*siiiiiigh* This is really not a pair I'm inclined to think on, but okay.

Crying: Ollie is not one for tears amongst other people, even those that he trusts, even his mom. He did it so much when he was really little at the tiniest little things--raised voices, an engine turning over, a car backfiring, a cat ignoring his offered hand for pets, dogs growling at him. He can cry, it is not outside of his experience as a human, he just doesn't do it around other people. Javi cries in movie theaters during rom-coms showings when the protagonist and their love interest are in the middle of the movie when things get tough. He is a loving and sensitive soul and makes no apologies. Body: Javi is all about the hands and neck. What he considers to be his most important body parts; the tips of his fingers, the knuckles constantly under assault because of his guitar strings, the side of his palms near the pinkies and his pulse point as especially susceptible to biting. His neck is very ticklish, but suction just brings him down to his knees. The nipples, the top ribs that graze all of his shirts, and his navel are all places that Ollie has no objection to having handled with tender love and care, but. But--well, his underarms being licked will have him screaming. Disorders: ADHD is definitely part of Javi's personality; hyperfocus for his music, forgetfulness even when he writes things down, and a kind of restlessness that can't simply be cured from taking a walk around the black a few dozen times a week. Ollie on the other hand is somewhere on the autism spectrum, most especially apparent in that he has low empathy but not low sympathy and is prone to his rituals and only true belief in science, the things he can prove; which goes a long way to explain why he and Amelia can't agree about the paranormal IN SPITE of being a Power Ranger. Touching: Ollie is strictly inside the camp of not being comfortable being touched unless it is very temporary, or he needs it as a grounding technique. Holding hands is gross to him because he tends to sweat, prolonged sexual contact makes him prickly, and going through training is about as good as it gets for sudden impact if he doesn't give permission. Basically someone has a better chance of cuddling a feral bobcat than doing anything similar with him. Javi gets emotionally drained and sad if someone doesn't brush up against his shoulders, hugs him from behind, give him head pats, or give him kisses every three days. Lost & Alone: Ollie is too stubborn to admit, ever, that he has gotten turned around or lost. He has GPS on his phone, he has excellent landmark recognition, there is no way he could ever get lost, thank you. Javi has gotten lost a few hundred times in his life, but has never felt especially worried about it unless it was for something to do with being a Ranger. Like a house dog who gets out of the yard and gets to wander around for a few hours until its owner tracks it down by the chip in its neck. New AU: Javi met Ollie before he met Amelia, and while Ollie is the biggest, most prickly asshole he'd ever met before then (except for his own father), he is also kind of interesting when he paused to listen to Javi play his keytar, his mouth organ, his ukulele every other day when Javi was trying to practice while avoiding his dad. Ollie can go on talking about the origins of those specific instruments and what songs they were made famous for being included in, and Javi thinks the man looks very pretty when he's out of his head. The Ranger thing still happens, they still become teammates with the others they were meant to be with, but Javi works up the confidence to shut Ollie down in the kindest way when he's being a jerk, and Ollie goes to tell the Warden buzz right off, "He's an adult, he can have whatever hobby he wants." Fantasies | Frot:

Clothes being something of a necessity if they want to go anywhere being cheek pecks or nose nuzzles, Javi is resigned to Ollie wearing jeans, under garments, a vest an a button up even if Javi himself is in the buff and sweating like a pig. Which is not at all unpleasant, actually; there are ways around that. Ollie does not especially like the idea of someone trying to get him off or make him pop like a bottle rocket, but he finds that he likes the way Javi wiggles under his touch, and even likes the way his length slides across his tongue when Ollie puts his all into getting him off instead. They are both fully obliged to touch themselves in front of the other if asked.

[therealnightcity]

From the headcanon asks! For Hiro - 7, 19 & 27 And for Ares - 2 & 28

Character asks for @themightiestpotato 🥰💕

Hiro:

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Hiro's of a mind that it's not wasting time if it's something you enjoy doing, he has a lot of hobbies outside working, and relishes the opportunities to engage in them. It's not to say that he's not focused on his tasks while he's working, but he's definitely balanced in that regard. Hiro tries to get his tasks done before relaxing, so he can better enjoy his time off, and as such, has little guilt about turning off 'work mode.' Merc-work and modeling don't attribute to a particularly normal schedule, so he tries to take moments of free time when he can get them.

His favorite 'time wasting' activity is playing around on his phone/social media or playing little games. He knows it's not necessarily contributing to anything but it makes him happy, and that in itself makes it worth it. He's fairly active on his photo app, and likes posting shots from around the city, or random ones of his cats (and plenty of himself--he's nothing if not a little vain.) He also enjoys a lazy night in occasionally, vegging out on the good takeout from across the street, and marathoning his favorite movies.

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Sleep has never come easily to Hiro, and when it does, it's frustratingly brief or fitful. He has a challenging time turning his mind off, and it's frequently racing--thinking about the next day, or turning its wheels, and keeping him up. He usually tries to plan out his week or errands in his head, or think about parts he needs for his motorcycle or his cybernetics. After an hour or two of this, he'll give up for a bit, and try to find something to keep his mind busy--go for a late night walk, or a ride, or find some club where he can distract himself better, or a late night diner where he can sip coffee until the sun comes up. If he can't sleep, he might as well do something with the time, instead of spending it in bed.

27. What is their biggest regret?

Trusting people he shouldn't have. In retrospect, he didn't know what a mistake he was making at the time--he just wanted someone who he could rely on, or a good role model, even if hadn't crossed his mind. He tries not to let his thoughts linger on the 'what ifs?'--knows he'll just make himself sick thinking about it, or all the things he regrets. He didn't know anything other than the Claws, but there's occasionally a moment where he wonders what would have happened if he tried to leave earlier? Maybe he would have gotten away from it all, gotten away from the city and its people, before they sunk their hooks into him.

It's hard for him not to give second chances--he knows he got one, and although he wishes it would have come sooner, there's the thought that maybe he can stop people from making the same mistakes he did, and give them a safe person who's not going to try to take advantage of someone.

Ares:

2. Do they have any daily rituals?

Ares always stretches first thing in the morning, before she makes coffee and gets on with her day. It's her moment that's just hers, before she's expected to interact with anyone, or coherent, and helps get her ready--start off with something positive. Her cybernetic arm gets achy, particularly around her shoulder if he doesn't take her time with it, and it's better to just work on maintaining every day, then having to worry about problems later. After stretching she makes coffee, takes a very quick shower, and feeds the dogs, before making her own breakfast. She makes sure they're fed and happy first, and then it's a walk/jog with them before she heads to work, and anything on tap for her to fix for the day. It's usually a couple minutes of paperwork/balancing her books before she can work on anything and those drag, she's eager to get her hands dirty, and truly does enjoy what she does.

28. Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

Ares has always been very close to Dakota. Her parents have a more nomadic lifestyle, so while she sees them on occasion, she's seen more of the other woman in the past couple years, and has some to think of her as a sort of surrogate mom. They send business each others way but it's more than that, and they've spent many happy nights sitting on her front porch and talking, a couple beers and a fresh melon between them. She admires her shrewdness, although the latter is more ruthless than she thinks she's capable of being, hidden under an amicable shell. There's a degree of that with most nomads she's realized, it's a survival instinct and sometimes it comes at others expenses.

Ares while not friendly with the Wraiths, makes every effort to not engage with them, and stay off their radar. Her few encounters with them have always been tense, and she tries to get them out of her shop and on their way as fast as she possibly can. She's notorious for accepting some rather unorthodox clients, more because she doesn't want them bringing trouble, and knows telling them off would dod so, than any real support of them, but she draws a firm line with helping corporations. Trusting the last one left a very visible reminder of why you don't help them, an arm that still doesn't quite feel like her own, despite every effort otherwise.

Thanks for asking, it's very appreciated! ☺️💕

[takamikeiigos]

• though keigo tends to be loud, seemingly carefree, and outgoing, he's convinced himself that hero work is his #1 priority and he has zero time to be getting all up in a tizzy about feelings

• this man probably doesn't even know what a long, meaningful hug feels like. but what does it matter because he's a hero, he doesn't have time to be mulling over that kinda stuff

• now don't get me wrong, keigo has all of the basic human wants and needs for love, affection, companionship, etc. but has managed to tuck those thoughts away deep in the back of his mind

• so he spends his free time alone watching movies by himself while eating takeout, or finding somewhere high on the skyline to perch upon while the breeze caresses him and gives him comfort while he's deep in his thoughts

• when it comes to his avian characteristics and needs, he knows many people don't understand so he tends to them himself

• long tiresome processes of preening his own wings, often getting aggravated when he can't reach a spot or can't get certain feathers to lay flat

• or when it's that time of the season and he continuously chooses to go through his ruts alone because he hasn't allowed himself time to slow down and properly take care of it, because he grew up too fast and exploring his own wants and needs was never an option

• let's talk about keigo nesting during a rut bc of pure instinct but suddenly coming to the harsh reality that he has no one to share it with

• ouch

• imagine the first time he meets you

• you think he's probably the most loud and obnoxious motherfucker you've ever met but he grows on you over time

• its only after spending a bit of time by his side that you realize little things about him that kinda break your heart

• he smiles and jokes around a lot, but when you catch him deep in thought or slipping you notice the vacant stares that make him seem far, far away

• or the fact that he doesn't touch people unless they prompt first, whether it's a high five or a pat on the shoulder, but his hands mostly remain in his pockets or by his sides otherwise

• so it breaks your heart even more when you go to give him a quick hug before checking out for the day and he completely tenses up, clearly not sure how to react

• it occupies most of your thoughts that night, before it finally dawns on you that keigo didn't reciprocate because he didn't know how to (not literally, of course)

• from then on you touch him more often - like gently putting your hand on his shoulder when you're reaching over him, or placing your hand on the small of his back when moving around him

• over-all you're in his space more, always standing a few inches closer so your shoulders touch or your hands brush

• but let's talk about that one time you both go on a mission together and keigo gets knocked around a lil bit

• you're finally able to catch up to him and the idiot is standing there covered in bruises, feathers missing and his hero outfit almost torn to shreds, and he has the audacity to smile at you like he didn't just get knocked into next week

• he tenses again when you run up to him and pull him into a frantic hug, worry ebbing from your entire being but grateful that he's still standing and alive

• but the exhaustion finally catches up to him and its then that his wall comes crashing down, his arms wrapping around you like he's clinging to you for dear life, and his head is resting on your shoulder, coming free of all those heavy thoughts he's been carrying with him

• things slowly change after that

• months later you two end up together, like two pieces of a puzzle that were lost but finally found, a relief of a perfect fit

• he texts you constantly - whether it's of things that remind him of you, or a picture of a cat he saw while on patrols, or even just to let you know you mean the world to him

• when you’re both together he almost always ends up being the one to initiate physical contact now, staying close in your space and his hand always rest against you

• on nights after a long day of patrolling, he'll come over and you'll put a movie on, cuddling close together on the couch while eating the most unhealthy junk food you could find to take the edge off

• you catch him smiling to himself one of those times, and when you look at him curiously, he shakes his head and laughs quietly

• "'s nothing baby bird, just nice to finally have someone to do this with"

• on another tiresome evening of patrolling, he flies through your bedroom window (you always leave it unlocked and open for him) and perches on your windowsill

• you can instantly tell something is bothering him by the way he's holding himself, his wings twitching and his body tense

• so you beckon him to come sit on your bed with you, thinking maybe a back rub will ease the tension. but when he finally sits down in front of you, the disarray of tangled feathers is the answer to your unasked questions

• you tell him to relax and he does, but when you hesitantly run your fingers against his feathers he nearly jumps out of his skin

• you pull your hand away as if it was burned and when you ask if you accidentally hurt him, he flushes and avoids eye contact

• "no! no, you didn't hurt me. they're just.. sensitive. 'm just not used to people touching them like that. but it.. it feels good"

• so you continue running your fingers through his feathers gently, making sure they're all in place and pulling the loose ones from his wings

• he’s all breathy sighs underneath your hands and you swear you hear him cooing every once in a while and your heart melts at the amount of intimacy and trust

• it turns into a ritual after rough days, and neither of you mind it

《《 NSFW 》》

• so look, i’m not saying keigo is a virgin but we're gonna keep going with this little needy & touch starved trend we got going. to each their own

• keigo loves being touched, but he also loves touching you

• i’m talking always pressing up against you when you’re both alone, face nuzzled in your neck while biting and licking, hands on your hips and squeezing

• clinging to you when you’re about to get out of bed, or sneaking into the shower with you bc he misses your warmth and is craving some skin on skin contact, his head nuzzled into your shoulder and his arms wrapped around you from behind

• tbh he’s probably still half asleep as he does this, too. you basically have him completely limp in your arms when you turn to start scrubbing his hair

• i’m getting a little off topic, huh?

• he’s always trying to get your attention, especially when he knows you’re busy

• he’s almost always breathless when things get hot and heavy, nearly falling apart over a make-out session

• but when you finally get him out of his clothes and on the bed where you want him, the experience is one you want to relive forever

• he’s got this wonton facial expression, chest flushed and wings puffed out, lips parted with unspoken pleas as you touch him

• the first time you even touch his dick he nearly loses it, head tossed back and fingers gripping the sheets

• "fuck.. fuck that feels so good dove, please don't stop"

• he’s so sensitive, his skin feels like it might burst into flames because of how worked-up he's getting

• the sight of him falling apart from a simple hand job is a sight to see, something you weren't expecting to get you going but it is

• you stroke him slow, your grip just loose enough where he ends up having to work for it, all the while you're gauging his expressions

• keigo is a talker, loud and completely unashamed of the filth pouring from his lips as he fucks up into your fist, his jaw slack and his brown pinched in pleasure and concentration

• "please baby, right there. god, you feel so fucking good, please don't stop. fuuuuck"

• when you decide to touch his wings out of sheer curiosity, you weren't expecting to his reaction to turn you on as much as it did

• keigo arching off the bed with a broken "f-fuck!", yanking you forward into a harsh kiss as he moans broken please and appraisals into your mouth, whining

• he finally comes in thick spurts over your hand, his hips stuttering as he thrusts upward to milk the final drops of his come, chest heaving and breathy pants falling against your lips, his hands tangled in your hair

• touch starved, needy, and sensitive

don't get me started on my man's going into a rut. whoo, good stuff.

sorry this is so long!! i got very carried away once i got into it.

if anyone wants to request anything, please do?? i would love that, especially since I'm trying to learn more about this beautiful bird-boy. nonetheless i hope y'all enjoyed!!

♡ ky

[rikalovesrice]

Trollhunters : Rise of The Titans [Rika’s Version!]

AIGHT SO THIS IS WHAT SHOULD’VE FREAKIN’ HAPPENED --

The movie starts a year after Wizards. We see Douxie, Archie, and Nari all settled in Metro City. Douxie managed to get a dinky little apartment and works two jobs. He comes home after a long day to Nari and Archie.

Maybe Nari’s running around chasing after Archie. Maybe the two of them are curled up on the couch and snoozing. Douxie smiles softly, petting Archie’s head and gently brushes Nari’s hair out of her face. Maybe Nari was singing to one of her plants and just beams when Douxie walks through the door. Just Magical Siblings and Their Therapy Cat fluff.

But that night, Douxie wakes up. Something feels very, very wrong. Nari feels it, too. 

Cut to the door to their apartment being busted right through, flames quickly consuming the threshold. To Douxie’s horror, it’s the Arcane Order and he immediately goes on the offensive. This is the first display in the movie of Douxie’s strength as a Master Wizard, his proficiency and skill with his magic as he holds his own against Bellroc and Skrael as he did in Wizards. He tells Archie to take Nari and run but neither of them want to leave him behind. Archie instead fights beside Douxie, urging for Nari to escape while she can. Nari’s reluctant because Douxie and Archie have become so precious to her.

When it looks like they’re about to be done in, Archie wills himself to transform into a huge dragon, taking Douxie and Nari into his claws and flying out of there, busting straight out of the apartment. But not before giving Bellroc and Skrael a thrashing with his tail. They manage to give the Order the slip. For now.

Archie quickly loses steam from holding such a form and crashes on the outskirts of the city, transforming back into a cat. Douxie cradles him in his arms. Nari tends to their wounds with her magic, looking forlorn. 

Douxie frantically dials a number on his phone. 

“Claire? Claire it’s me...” A column of fire erupts in the distance. A shot of Douxie, Archie, and Nari huddled close. “They found us.”

Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans Title Screen

The scene fades in on the new and improved Camelot, where the Lakes are staying. We see Jim spending time with his mother and Walter and it’s lovely. We see a hint of Jim’s trauma when he’s cooking and looks at his reflection in a spatula. He flinches away. He doesn’t want to look at himself. Barbara comforts him, a tender heartfelt moment between them.

Claire then emerges from a shadow portal with grim news : The Arcane Order have found Douxie and Nari.

Jim gathers his friends. Claire shadow portals them all to Douxie, who’s found shelter in a hut Nari made from tree roots. Douxie’s cast a barrier to hide their presence, though it won’t last long. 

It’s a really sweet and awesome reunion. Douxie gives Claire and Steve big hugs. Nari bounds up to Toby and holds his hand. Jim, Krel, and Douxie have a “good to see you again, bro” moment between them. Aaarrgh licks his lips at the sight of Archie.

It’s here that Douxie gives the deets on what’s happened. As they begin to figure out a way to keep Nari safe and away from the Order, Nari suddenly says, “No.”

After almost losing Douxie and Archie, her new family, Nari decides enough is enough. She wants to face her corrupted siblings head-on. To not only protect the world, but her newfound friends. 

Douxie understandably protests. But Nari, gentle but resolute, tells him she’s made up her mind. No more running.

And so, Douxie acquiesces. 

Cue the sequence/fight scene on the train!

Nari realizes what Douxie’s doing when it’s too late. They switch bodies and Douxie’s taken away by the Order. 

“Douxie, I’m so sorry...I couldn’t save her,” Claire laments.

Nari, in Douxie’s body, “N-no...No, I am fine. But Douxie...Douxie!”

Everyone’s like, “Oh no” but then oof, they all get arrested.

The police department scene! With Krel and the Blanks busting everyone out.

Now, we find ourselves back on Camelot where Jim’s being attended to by Walter and Barbara after waking up from a nightmare. Bellroc’s words torment him : “Without your Amulet, you are nothing but a frightened! Little!! BOY!!!”

Walter suggests Jim should lay low, let his friends handle things. Jim reaches a real low point here. Claire provides some comfort. Hand in hand, they make their way to the Round Table, where everyone’s licking their wounds. 

Blinky explains to them that the Order wants to awaken the Titans and need all three members of the Order to do so. While everyone’s relieved that Nari’s safe, Douxie’s now in the Order’s clutches and they want to figure out a way to save him.

Nari, sad and grim, says that Douxie’s spell will eventually wear off.

“He is, as humans say, buying us time...”

Cut to Douxie (in Nari’s body) with the Order. Douxie doesn’t make a sound, not wanting to give anything away. They try the ritual and when it fails, Bellroc and Skrael quickly suspect foul play. They realize that Nari isn’t Nari and proceed to forcefully, painfully, undo Douxie’s spell.

Douxie wakes up, back in his own body. He’s swarmed by his friends, all overcome with relief that he’s alright, but it’s short-lived. The Order has Nari. 

Douxie manages to recall where the Order took him. Before they head out, a downtrodden Jim says he should stay behind, going back to the bed chamber. Claire goes to talk to him, but Douxie stops her.

“Let’s give him some space,” Douxie says gently, though he looks just as concerned for Jim. “In the meantime,” he summons his staff, “we’ll hunt the Order down, put a stop to their schemes, and bring Nari home.”

Everyone heads to the warehouse-train track place (I forgot what it was called rip). Just then, Aja comes flying in, having been contacted by Krel. The Tarron siblings have a sweet, wholesome, long-awaited reunion. Also Staja and Creepslayerz reunited!

Aja cautions Steve about the whole seventh kiss-pregnancy thing and he quickly decides that, yeah no, he’s not quite ready for that. His Alien Queen Muffin (or whatever the heck he called her) is back and that’s all that matters to him. Also wtf Eli’s hot and taller than him now.

There’s a cute moment of Douxie and Aja really meeting for the first time. Aja recognizes him.

“Oh! You were the hand-reading waiter boy!”

Upon hearing she’s a Queen, Douxie’s Medieval chivalry kicks in and he bows at the waist.

“The name’s Hisirdoux, Your Majesty.” After Aja butchers his name, he says “Douxie” will do just fine. 

Nomura abruptly reminds them they don’t have time for pleasantries. They get to it. Douxie figures out the sigil and the illusion fades, revealing the Order performing their ritual with a brainwashed Nari. They’re unable to stop it and the Order members teleport away to join with their respective Titans. We see each of the Titans rising.

The Arcadia Gang regroups back on Camelot to form a plan. Jim, discouraged and deeply troubled, is leaning over a rail, head in his hands. Douxie comes up beside him, silent.

Jim eventually asks how things went. When Douxie tells him they failed and the Titans have risen, Jim feels even more powerless and guilt-ridden.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I couldn’t...I can’t do anything. Without the Amulet I’m not the Trollhunter anymore and I’m just...useless--”

Douxie cuts him off, putting a hand on Jim’s shoulder. 

“Jim. That’s not true. Do you remember what I told you? That our strength doesn’t come from special trinkets. Our strength...” Douxie finally gets Jim to look at him, “comes from our friends. From each other. All of us together. That includes you.”

“But...without my Amulet how can I do anything--”

Douxie smiles gently. “By being true to yourself, Jim. As we, your friends, are true to you.”

Just then, Claire joins them and asks if Jim’s okay. Jim smiles as Douxie ruffles his hair.

“I will be. Thanks.”

Jim, Claire, and Douxie find everyone arguing at the Round Table. Aja is wanting to evacuate everyone off of Earth, to which Blinky protests. Everyone just keeps going back and forth until Jim yells for them to stop.

Time to divide and conquer, cutting back and forth between each battle with the Titans.

Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tackle the Fire Titan.

Blinky, Toby, and Nomura handle the Ice Titan, with Walter and Barbara steering Camelot.

Jim, Claire, Douxie, and Aaarrgh go for the Earth Titan. Douxie’s hoping to get through to Nari and break her free from the Order’s control.

Aja and Krel fight the Fire Titan side by side on their hoverboard. Steve and Eli help civilians off the bridge and keep them safe. 

Varvatos Vex in his giant robo mech incoming, along with a handful of Akiridion warships.

The Fire Titan proves to be too powerful and defeats Varvatos’ robot, melting down the Akiridion troops in the process. Aja and Krel are knocked down from their hoverboard. They and Varvatos retreat as the Fire Titan continues to burn a path towards its destination.

Toby and Nomura attempt to zipline their way to the Ice Titan to take down Skrael with Akiridion bombs. When the rope fails, Walter extends his wings to save them, but his wings quickly freeze. 

Nomura grabs the bombs and sacrifices herself, bidding a heartwrenching farewell to Toby and her longtime friend, thanking them both. She asks Toby to tell Jim she said goodbye. Ever agile, Nomura scales the Ice Titan and detonates the bombs.

But to everyone’s horror, the Ice Titan only puts itself back together. Walter sinks to his knees. Toby throws down his helmet. Their friend sacrificed herself for nothing.

Aaarrgh is charging after the Earth Titan, Douxie, Jim, and Claire hanging onto his back. Claire shadow portals the three of them onto the Titan’s back. Douxie begins to plead with Nari, even as she constricts him with vines.

Douxie manages to grab her hand. He begins to break the mind-control with his magic, still calling out to Nari as he’s losing the ability to breathe. 

Douxie’s voice reaches her and she breaks free. Nari frantically asks where she is, if she hurt him or his friends. Douxie, overcome with relief, just embraces her.

“You’re here with us, Nari...You’re here with us.”

Nari assures them they have a Titan on their side now. They receive communication from the Tarrons, who warn them that the Ice Titan is getting close to Arcadia.

No time to wonder why Skrael’s headed there. Claire makes a massive shadow portal to Arcadia (the field trip scene!), taking Nari’s Titan with them. Nari tries to reason with Skrael, but he’s having none of it.

NARI VS SKRAEL COMMENCE!

The Tarrons and Creepslayerz arrive on scene. Douxie boards Aja’s hoverboard and together they fire lazers and magic at the Ice Titan. Varvatos dashes and slashes his way up the Titan. Claire, Jim, Krel, Steve, and Eli work to rescue the school bus from getting crushed.

Well, it does get crushed but thankfully everyone made it off. Then, Archie comes flying in with his father, Charlemagne. Charlie flies all the students and Coach to safety. Archie joins Douxie in the air, blasting Skrael with fire.

“C’mon and face the music, Skrael!!!” Douxie summons Spellcaster and starts shredding.

Enraged, Skrael releases a devastating burst of magic that knocks Douxie, Aja, and Varvatos away. Nari seizes the opportunity to impale Skrael’s Titan, but not before Nari’s fatally wounded by him in return. Both Titans collapse.

Douxie runs to Nari, desperately calling her name. She’s on the ground, dying. Everyone gathers around, devastated. Douxie holds Nari in his arms. Archie nuzzles Nari’s arm, tears forming in his eyes. Douxie’s already crying.

“No..No, no, Nari, please...” Douxie holds her hand. “Nari, don’t go, please...!”

“It is okay, Douxie...Do not be sad...”

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I said I would protect you...” Douxie leans down, almost touching his forehead to hers (it’s Harry and Dobby y’all). His tears fall onto her face. “I said I would protect you...!”

“You did something greater, Douxie...” Nari squeezes his hand. Tears of her own roll down her cheeks. “You gave me a home. And many, many friends....” Douxie sobs harder, holding her close. “You saved me, Douxie...” She’s beginning to fade. She smiles, her eyes closing. “Thank you...Thank...”

Nari fades, wisps of magic and flower petals slipping through Douxie’s fingers. Douxie wails, Archie pressing close. Jim and Claire lay their hands on his shoulders. Claire hugs him.

Krel is then alerted that the Fire Titan is also on the move towards Arcadia.

Everyone reconvenes on Camelot. They all mourn the deaths of Nomura and Nari. 

They learn that Bellroc is headed towards Arcadia, the center of the universe, because that’s where the last Heartstone is. If at least one Titan reaches the Heartstone, the world will be wiped clean.

Before they head out, Douxie and the Tarrons present Jim with a brand new Amulet, forged from magic and Akiridion technology. That, and the stone in which Excaliber lodged itself. Douxie encourages Jim to try once more. 

Jim steps up on the stone, gazing fondly at his friends around him. They all place their hands on the stone in support. Jim pulls Excaliber from the stone. Everyone cheers for him.

Douxie’s seen texting someone.

FINAL SHOWDOWN IN ARCADIA

Bellroc is seen making their way towards the Heartstone. But what stands between them and the prize is the Guardians of Arcadia. 

Charlemagne, Archie, and Walter soar above. Blinky and Aaarrgh lead an army of trolls. More Akiridion fleets arrive, Aja and Krel at the helm. Varvatos has a brand new robo, too.

Bellroc sneers at their defiance and summons an army of their own : hundreds of big rocky lava monsters.

BATTLE OF THE MOST EPIC OF PROPORTIONS IS A GO.

Trolls are punching, Akiridions are blasting, magicians are casting.

JIM SUITS UP WITH HIS NEW ARMOR AND EXCALIBER AND IS LIKE DON’T THINK BECOMIN’ FOR YA BELLROC FOR THE GOOD OF AAAAAAAALL

Douxie conjures up a spell to send that boy flying onto that Fire Titan.

Toby and Aaarrgh slam and hammer their way through fiery goons. Claire and Aja team up to take down the opposition, noting they should get lunch together sometime. Charlemagne tears through the enemies with his claws and wings. Krel and the Creepslayerz flail about and kick tail anyway. 

Our heroes all cover one another and play off of each other’s strengths and it’s beautiful.

When Douxie’s about to get smothered by lava fists, there’s a flash of lightening and the monsters vaporize. 

Douxie turns to see Zoe with a brigade of hedge wizards. Douxie’s immediately bowled over, smitten.

“About time you showed up...,” Douxie says, in a daze cause wow Zoe’s so pretty.

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of nerve --” Explosions. More lava monsters. Zoe sighs and pats Douxie’s cheek. “Ugh, focus, you big sap!”

The pair are unstoppable together, mowing down the lava monsters in powerful bursts of blue and pink.

DOUXIE’S EYES GO BLUE AND ZOE’S EYES GO PINK EPIC AVATAR STATE RINGS OF MAGIC AS THEY DECIMATE THEIR FOES WITH ROCK MUSIC BLARING YESSSS

And well, Douxie can’t help himself and gives Zoe a good long smooch after they’ve destroyed half of Bellroc’s army.

Toby in the distance : HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN A THING?????

Archie just groans.

And meanwhile, Jim’s finally facing off with Bellroc. After having one of the most badass fights in the franchise, Jim comes out on top, skewering Bellroc in the stomach with Excaliber.

AND BOOM THEY DID IT GUYS EARTH IS SAVED.

....But not without great cost.

Toby’s been mortally wounded, crushed by the falling pieces of the Fire Titan. There’s the tearful, heartbreaking moment Jim has to say goodbye to his best friend, the one who was there with him through it all.

“We did it, Jimbo...We did it...”

Jim holds Toby in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Claire holds Jim and weeps beside him. Aaarrgh is in hysterics but is calmed to pained whimpers by Blinky. The Arcadia Gang grieves, feeling the painful weight of losing the friends they held so dear....Nomura, Nari, and now Toby.

Time Skip/Montage

Douxie found a proper apartment in Arcadia. He keeps a potted plant with those distinct pink flowers, the flowers Nari loved, on his windowsill. Smiles softly at them every time. 

Scenes of Mary with Darci as she mourns. Steve and Eli hanging out. Douxie and Krel jamming, Krel creating beats and Douxie riffing on his guitar. Aja and Claire going on that lunch date. Archie taking a nap on top of Aaarrgh. Walter playing classical music.

It’s taken a while, but Jim’s starting to feel a little bit better. Douxie, Krel, Steve, and Eli came over for some bro time. Seeing the pain in his eyes, Douxie gives Jim a hug.

The final scene is a picnic at everyone’s favorite spot in Arcadia with a single bench and an awesome view of the town.

Aja and Steve are cuddling. Krel and Eli play with a frisbee. Blinky, Aaarrgh, and Varvatos laugh around a table. Douxie and Zoe, holding hands, are having a lively chat with Claire. Jim serves up a huge plate of enchiladas.

Walter and Barbara announce their engagement. Everyone celebrates. 

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER TIME.

Aja, Varvatos, and Eli depart back to Akiridion-5. Steve honks into a tissue. Krel pats him on the back as he waves to his sister.

Barbara kisses Jim on the forehead before going home with Walter.

Zoe kisses Douxie on the cheek and heads off. 

Steve and Krel are the next to go.

Douxie, Archie around his shoulders, pulls both Jim and Claire into a hug before leaving.

Blinky gives Jim a hug. Aaarrgh nuzzle him, looking sad. 

Jim and Claire hold hands and sit on the bench, gazing out at the town.

EMOTIONAL SPEECH VOICEOVER ENDS T_T

The End.

[thekingofthieves]

{ Ask Masterpost }

🌹 Do you like looking at artwork?

🦊 Did you convince spirit world to convert Hiei's sentence? I've always wondered why they kept him alive.

🌹 How much do you like cats? After all, they do say foxes are cat software running on dog hardware :3

🦊 When did you realize you wanted more than friendship with Hiei?

🌹 What is your opinion on your step brother do you share similar interests?

🦊 I'm curious how a whip became your main weapon of choice. What made you go for that as opposed to something more "traditional" like a blade?

🌹 Since you are a fox can you still understand foxes even in your human form? If you can understand them what kinds of things are foxes communicating about. Also can you talk to foxes with regular human speech or do you need to use "fox language" (idk what language foxes speak lol)

🦊 Since you can change into a fox can you loaf 🤯

🌹 How was you kindergarten experience when you was just started getting used to your human form🤔

🦊 Have you watched the snapcube sonic fan dubs ☆ In your fox form do you ever get the zoomies ☆ What was the funniest thing you ever experienced (so funny that you actually started belly laughing)

🌹 What is your favorite show/movie/anime(or cartoon)? What is your favorite book series?

🦊 Do you know any fire demons (other than hiei)? ☆ Have you and/or hiei researched them? Do they have their own language/lexicon like the koorime do? Are they as extremely isolated as the koorime? ☆ Do you think the Jaou Ensatsu Kokuryuuha is a specific attack for the fire demons? Or can anybody use it? ☆ Also do demons worship goods/deities like humans do or are there specific rituals for their worship? Like how humans have shrines for inari.

🌹 Do different types of demons have different types of reproductive anatomy and/or reproductive abilities?? Like how the koorime are able to reproduce asexually.

🦊 I know this may sound odd but I kinda wanna draw you as Rouge the bat you would look good with a lovecore aesthetic.

🌹 Building on your response to the ask abt demon gods: are any of the gods of human religions (Yahweh, Shiva, Ahura Mazda, etc.) actually just powerful demons who humans became somehow aware of and mistook for gods? Or even were actual ascended gods? I'd be interested to know how many of those were "real" in some capacity vs. just being human inventions.

🦊 Is there anything in particular you like to get up to when you're in your fox form? Also, does being in fox form change how you think or process thoughts, or do you pretty much have the same "brain" and thought process you do when in human/demon form?

🌹 You should rotate your tails really fast and join the cast of sonic the hedgehog

🦊 I know you're all about plants, but do you have a favorite animal here in the human realm?

{ Prompt Asks }

7A. Would you cannibalise a dead body in a life-or-death scenario? Does your answer change depending on whether they're a loved one or not? (I guess eating humans wouldn’t really count as cannibalism.) Instead for my other question: Can certain demons survive without the consumption of humans? I know raizen died because he didn’t consume humans after a long period of time.

22A. Do you want children with your partner? Why or why not?

92A. Do you speak multiple languages? Which do you dream in? What language would you want to learn? Also does the makai have its own language or is it an amalgamation of many different human world languages?

96A. Is your perception of yourself similar or the same to how others perceive you?

98A. Do you ever feel that you are really a terrible person, and only act good out of societal or some other obligation?

1B. What do you crave in a psychological sense? Intimacy, passion, purpose, belonging, social interaction, etc.?

4B. Who's the most important person in your life right now? Why? (If you had to choose one person)

5B. Do you see your parents in your appearance or behaviour? Are they favourable traits?

10B. What are your feelings on cheating in relationships? Have you ever done it, has anyone ever cheated on you?

12B. What's your most controversial opinion? Would you state it publicly? What's the most controversial opinion that you would publicly support, if it's different?

30B. If you don't have tattoos, and had to get one, what would you get tattooed on you? Is getting tattooed a big deal to you? If you are tattooed, do you regret any?

[gotnofucks]

Ball’s In Your Court

Paring: Steve Rogers x Reader, (platonic tony x reader)

Summary: Steve and Y/n have been playing games for years. But now that Rogers is acting like a little bitch, Y/n throws him a curve ball that will either make them or break them.

Words: 2.7k

Warning: None man. Its fluff and angst. Language (?)

A/N: I was experimenting with the third person P.O.V for reader. Hope it’s to your liking.

MASTERLIST

+++++

For as long as Steve could remember, their life together had been a game; bet after bet, challenge after challenge. He had met her when she was just entering her teens, a little girl with a lost wild look in her eyes. She was in all respects Tony’s daughter, rescued by him from the wreckage of his own weapons. He had almost done a double take when Tony had introduced her to the team.

“This is Y/n, she will stay with us from now”

The compound was not used to the pitter patter of little feet or their furniture appearing embellished overnight. She had lost everything, including it seemed herself. So, their first game ironically had been Hide and Seek. She was small and he lost count of how many times she had bested him by crawling under the cramped spaces of desks or vents (Thanks for teaching her that, Barton).

When Tony had complained about the hundredth time that she just wouldn’t eat, Steve would challenge her that whoever finished their breakfast first could choose the movie for tonight. When she refused to let them leave for missions, he would challenge her to a game of cards. She was too young to win against him but her stubborn streak never turned down a game.

Their every interaction had been a game. They could get each other to do anything by playing chess or softball or a game of Horse that drove everyone else up the wall. He got her to open up about school bullies by besting her at Pictionary and she had effectively gotten him to shut up about healthy food by kicking his ass at video games. They dealt with drama via games (Whoever tosses the least paper balls in the bin tells Bruce we fucked his experiment ), they dealt with humor via games (let’s see who can manage to steal Nat’s gun without getting caught), they dealt with grief via game (if you beat me at Heads Up I’ll let you choose the gravestone).

Growing up, she was Tony’s daughter and Steve’s best friend. While Tony raised her, Steve gossiped with her. They were pals and all was fun and games until she grew up from a little girl into a young woman. Steve didn’t know when things changed but the first he noticed it was when she had run into his arms bawling because some idiot boy broke her heart. It was when he found himself conflicted between anger at the boy and jealousy that this shit started.

He had tried, he had really tried to keep it in check. He had tried to keep up with their game’s night ritual, their silly bets and ridiculous challenges. He had tried his best to be a friend, but this was one challenge he lost. She was no more the 14-year-old girl asking him questions for her history project or the 16-year-old nightmare who would put cockroaches in his bed as revenge. This was a young woman in her 20s with curves for days and an attitude that raised hell. It was a classic falling for your best friend story (if only he weren’t old enough to be her dad or was her dad’s best friend).

He had of course been under the impression that he was being subtle about his change in feelings. He tried not to stare when they went out for a swim, he resisted the urge to lick her lips after a nacho eating contest. He was trying so fucking hard, but as anyone could have told him, “Steve, you don’t have a subtle bone in your body, you frisbee throwing maniac”. She was Tony Stark’s daughter; she was not raised to be stupid. She was smart and observant and almost as quick a study as her father. It was no surprise then that she figured out what had Steve so wound up around her.

Maybe it would have creeped her out had it been anyone else, but Steve was her person. He was her one constant, from kissing her boo-boos to getting her home after she drank herself silly, Steve was there. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve so much then when she cornered him one evening and planted a wet one smack on his mouth with a muttered, “This sexual tension it killing me, gotta do something about it because you won’t”.

He wished he could say he clutched her body to his and dragged her to his room for a wild night of passion. But in reality, he chickened out like a bitch and ran away. Not just from her, but he completely disappeared from the compound for two weeks. When he came back, it was with the intentions of telling her they couldn’t do it, it was wrong and a betrayal to Tony. But Steve needn’t have worried because he came back to the compound to find her introducing the team to her boyfriend.

As far as others know, Steve didn’t deliberately break those glasses that night or push the idiot boy in the pool. It was an accident, and if such accidents kept happening around men she dated then it was purely coincidental.

It was a new kind of game they played then, a more dangerous one and if one’s being honest, a very sensual game. She would date someone; he would scare them away. One of them will find the other, have a passionate make out session, probably end up straddling the other on a desk and then one of them will get up and leave with the same lie “This can’t happen again”. Repeat.

Gone were the days of challenges and competitions, in its place was a sexually charged game of Tag. A cat and mouse game where they always chased each other, touching fleetingly before retreating again. Neither would be the one to make a commitment, neither would concede to being the person who would put their hearts on the line. They were two bulls who were made to butt heads (who occasionally took time off to play a quick game of tonsil-hockey).

Steve had known there had to be an end to this. It had gone on for so long that he could bet other people suspected some shit. He had honestly expected for Tony to sucker punch him half a dozen times by now. Right now, he would have taken those punches to the news she had just given to the team.

“I am getting married!” She announced, offering her left hand so others can admire the gorgeous diamond ring that sat on her ring finger. She looked happy, absolutely radiant and it was all Steve could do to stop himself from dragging her out of here by her hair and throwing that offending ring into the garbage chute. What the fuck kind of game was she playing?

He waited until everyone was asleep before he broke into her room. Well, breaking into would suggest it was forced but truly only him and Tony had the authorization to enter. Their relationship may have changed from ‘you’re my best friend’ to ‘I want to be your best lay’, but they still knew each other the best and cared just as much as before, if not more.

She was under the covers in her bed, a small nightlamp on. It had been a while since Steve had been in her room and it was like taking a big gulp of nostalgia. Her room was her sanctuary, so it reflected her heart’s desires. Every surface of the room was littered with one of their memories together. Her pinboard was still holding the notes he would write to her in school, the birthday cards he made himself and the portraits he would sketch for her. On her desk stood the numerous gifts he had gotten her, each well taken care of despite the years between. Right beside her on the cabinet was a picture of them together, both of them holding hands and smiling at each other in what could only be called as “lovesick smitten idiots”.

He was cautious as he lowered himself next to her on the bed, her face so peaceful he felt like he would taint it by his touch and presence. He had looked at her for years, sketched her details hundreds of times and yet each time he beheld her, he felt his heart skip a beat. She was a memory that he tried to forget and yet it emerged every time he closed his eyes. She was in his skin, a part of him in a way that defied all laws of nature and social customs.

“Are you going to keep staring at me and be the creep from Twilight or do you plan on getting inside?”

Her voice made him jump because she hadn’t opened her eyes. She was smiling that lazy smile of hers when she would catch his bluff in poker. He chuckled and shifted the sheets, climbing under them and curling his body around her. It may as well have been cliché to say that they fit like a puzzle, but it was true. They were molded to fit against each other perfectly, like that lid you close over a box and the satisfying ‘tick’ sound it makes when it clicks into place. That’s what being with her felt like. Fitting in. Coming home.

“Why are you doing this Y/n?” Steve asked and she pushed her body into his so he could hug her tighter.

“Because you won’t do anything Steve. We’ve been running around in circles for so long now, and every time I think that finally we’ll be together, you abandon fort and run. I can’t do this anymore.”

Steve took her left hand and watched her ring twinkle in a taunt. It could have been him. It should be him.

“Don’t marry him. He will never give you what you want.”

“I know that Steve, no one can give me what they want because they aren’t you. But I can’t keep waiting for you in the sidelines hoping you’ll pull your head out of your ass. I want to be loved, preferably in this life.”

His arms were like tentacles around her, but she didn’t complain. Every embrace and moment between them was so fleeting, a stolen moment that she enjoyed what she could get. This was probably the longest in a few years that they had held each other without one running for the hills.

“I love you, you know that.” He whispered in her ear, longing evident in his voice.

“I know that, as much as I know that you won’t do shit about it. Loving someone is not always enough Steve. It’s just the beginning. I – I won’t keep my love a secret. I don’t want ten angry sensual minutes in the broom closet. I want walks in the park and two dogs and a cat. I want picnics with our family and pictures that are not restricted to my room. You can’t give me that. You won’t.”

She had run out of tears. Her fiancé may not be Steve Rogers but at least he was an honest man who tried his best to love her the way she deserved. She had met his family and they had met hers; they could post pictures on social media with cheesy captions and hold hands as they drank coffee from a cheap corner place.

“You can never love anyone like you love me” It was a sulky declaration by a hurt lover and she almost cooed to him like a mommy consoling her baby. Steve may have been older to her in years, but when it came to love he was an immature brat.

“That may be true, but I will try. I am not Penelope waiting in the balcony for Odysseus to return. I love you, and that love may never fade away. But my life will go on. It is your choice if you want to be a part of it.”

She faced him, her eyes open and clear. He didn’t know when the little girl who needed help to reach the jar on the shelf had grown up in this headstrong woman who could beat a sailor when it came to cursing. But he couldn’t bear the thought of her staying like this in someone else’s bed, looking at them the way she looked at him. Steve rarely coveted something in his life, but he didn’t realize until now how much he coveted her love. If he lost that, he feared he would lose himself.

“Your father is going to kill me” Steve groaned, and she laughed. Her head was on his chest and an arm around his torso.

“We can elope, you know. Run away and get married. It will be too late to do anything then. You’ll be stuck with me.”

“Did you just propose to me?” Steve questioned and she nodded, her eyes naughty.

“I’m always a step ahead of you Captain. I figured you would take another month at least to ask and I have wasted too much time already.” She whispered against his lips. He leaned up to kiss her deeply, unhurried for the first time. It was like their first kiss all over again, like two star-crossed lovers smashing through their final obstacle and uniting. Steve didn’t know how he had survived so long without having her like this, but as his hands found her soft curves, he swore he can’t go a day without it.

“Stop stop!” She said, pushing his chest and rolling away from him. “We’ve waited this long. You’re not getting your dick wet until you finally commit to me.”

Steve looked more dumbfounded than offended and responded by finally taking off the ring on her finger and throwing it away carelessly.

“I’ll steal the Quinjet, meet me in the hanger in half an hour. Don’t pack shit. We’ll make one stop for the rings and get the first officiant I can find to marry us. We’ll probably be back by breakfast. And then,” His arm wound around her waist “I will lay rest to the sexual tension of years by getting my dick wet. Repeatedly.”

+++++

It was to be expected that Tony’s daughter wouldn’t do anything halfway through. A flair for dramatics was her inheritance and she and Steve walked into the compound newly married in rumpled night clothes and shit eating grin. They found everyone eating in the kitchen, and greetings stopped halfway when the rest of the team noticed their clasped hands.

“What the fuck…” Bruce said, half eaten celery dangling from his open mouth.

Y/n flashed them her award-winning smile and showed the matching rings on her and Steve’s hand. It was a riot under a minute, chairs scraping as they crowded them, trying to see if it was a joke. Then just as suddenly everyone stopped and Tony stepped forward, a spatula in his hand that to Steve looked as threatening as a gun.

“You sick son of a bitch!” Tony shouted and Steve flinched. He looked at Y/n but all she did was wear a smug look on her face that should be illegal in about three continents. “You little bitch! You are supposed to be from the 90s! You were supposed to ask her hand from me like a gentleman you sick little fuck!”

Steve blinked in confusion while she laughed, hopping like a little girl to hug her father.

“Pay up, daddy! You owe me 500 bucks.” She said and Tony groaned, pulling out his wallet and handing her crisp five 100s.

“I – what? What happened?” Steve sputtered, still surprised he wasn’t being beaten by the Iron Legion.

“You weren’t supposed to elope you bastard. Always knew chivalry was dead!” Tony huffed then went back to cooking. “Congratulations by the way. Fucking finally. I’m not surprised my girl had to do everything anyway. She’s taken after me.”

This was a plot twist Steve never expected and he looked at his new wife with a look of horror on his face that could only be translated to as ‘what the fuck have I gotten myself into’.

“I told you baby, I’m always a step ahead of you.” She said, trying and failing to blush like a bride.

+++++

Taglist is open

[uomo-accattivante]

Great article about Paul Schrader’s The Card Counter - a poker movie that’s not really a poker movie...

Some filmmakers write a hit movie and spend the ensuing years trying to escape its shadow. Paul Schrader never flinched. Forty-five years after his “Taxi Driver” script put him on the map, the writer-director has developed a body of work loaded with alienated anti-heroes compelled to violent and reckless extremes for the sake of a higher calling.

That includes “The Card Counter,” in which Oscar Isaac plays guilt-stricken Abu Ghraib vet William Tell, a man with a gambling addiction compelled to help the revenge-seeking son (Tye Sheridan) of a former colleague. Taking justice into his own hands, Isaac’s William Tell slithers through the Vegas strip in search of questionable salvation, not unlike a certain Vietnam vet named Travis Bickle did from the driver’s seat. As if to cement the comparisons, “The Card Counter” features Martin Scorsese as an executive producer, marking the first time the two men share a credit since 1999’s “Bringing Out the Dead.”

For Schrader, “Taxi Driver” comparisons are inevitable in all his work. “My tendency is to look for interesting occupational metaphors,” Schrader said in a recent interview. “‘Taxi Driver’ hit the bull’s eye of the zeitgeist and it doesn’t die. There’s no way I could’ve planned for that, but it does inform the stories I tell.”

At 75, Schrader continues to churn out movies much like his compatriot Scorsese, albeit on a much smaller scale. “The Card Counter” is the latest illustration of the secularized Christian dogma percolating through his work. “Our society doesn’t like to take responsibility for anything,” he said. “But I come from a culture where you’re responsible for everything. You come into the world soaked with guilt and you just get guiltier.” In his own prickly fashion, Schrader makes movies steeped in empathy for lost souls in search of redemption despite the daunting odds. “We’re all certainly capable of forgiveness,” he said, and chuckled. “Anyone who says otherwise is wrong.”

The “Taxi Driver” dilemma looms large in nearly all of Schrader’s work, from the dazzling high-stakes activism of “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” all the way through Ethan Hawke’s eco-conscious priest in “First Reformed.” While the latter, Oscar-nominated effort brought Schrader new fans, “The Card Counter” is an even more precise distillation of his aesthetic — a moody, philosophical drama about the vanity of the personal crusade.

Schrader, who has labeled his homegrown character studies as “man in the room” dramas, embraces the parallels as usual. “There is this kind of myth that the taxi driver was this friendly, joking kind of guy who was a character actor in movies,” he said. “But the reality is that it’s a very lonely job, and you’re trapped in a box for 60 hours a week.” He saw the same logic with gambling, a wayward profession generally depicted in the movies in the context of escapist romps, rather than the somber rituals that afflict most players. “I thought about the essence of playing cards every day, or sitting in front of a slot machine. It’s kind of zombie-like,” Schrader said. “You see commercials of people in casinos laughing. But it’s a pretty glum place. Today with slots you don’t even have to pull the lever. You just sit there and let the numbers roll.”

The gambling figure led Schrader to the bigger picture of his character’s conundrum. “I was wondering why someone would choose to live in that sort of purgatory,” he said. “He doesn’t want to be alive, but he can’t really be dead, either. What could cause that? It can’t be a simple crime, murder, or a family dispute. It has to be something unforgivable. And that was Abu Ghraib.”

After the fallout of that debacle, William did time in a military prison, and reenters society before the movie begins. That was a world the filmmaker wanted to understand in clearer terms. Though Schrader has received blowback for his controversial Facebook posts in the past, in this case, the platform was an asset: He used it to track down soldiers who had done time in the United States Penitentiary in Leavenworth, the only military prison in the U.S., to better understand the initial claustrophobic world that Tell endures, as well as the conflict between the justice he’s received and what he deserves. “This man has been punished by his government, set free, and paid his due, but he doesn’t feel that,” Schrader said. “What does he do then? How does he fill his time? That’s how it all began.”

Schrader himself toyed with gambling when he lived in Los Angeles early in his career, but soon gave it up. “I very quickly realized I was only interested in gambling if it was really dangerous and I didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of danger,” he said. Years later, though, the experience helped inform his story. “There is this whole fantasy of gambling movies from ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ to ‘California Split,’” Schrader said. “But poker is all about waiting. People will play 10 to 12 hours a day and two to three times a day, a hand will happen where two players both have chips. Now you’ve got a face-off. But that doesn’t happen very often. Most guys who are there are running the numbers, the probability.”

He envisioned “The Card Counter” as a repudiation of the traditional poker movie, which builds to the giddy release of a final tournament. When that moment arrives in the movie, Schrader takes the movie in a bleak, shocking new direction. “It’s not really a poker movie — that’s a red herring,” he said.

William is immersed in his casino journey when he encounters Cirk (Sheridan), the crazy-eyed son of another Abu Ghraib soldier who committed suicide. Cirk blames the soldiers’ former commander (Willem Dafoe), and hopes to loop William into the plan. Instead, the older man decides to take Cirk under his wing to talk him out of the act, which doesn’t prove so easy. In the process, the gambler forms a curious bond with La Linda (Tiffany Haddish), a gambling agent and pimp whose icy, relentless drive to make the most out of the poker circuit brings William some measure of companionship on his wayward journey.

It should come as no surprise that the “Girls Trip” breakout is nearly unrecognizable in the role of the calculated La Linda, which is also a distinctly Schraderish touch: From his work with Richard Pryor in 1978’s “Blue Collar” all the way through Cedric the Entertainer’s supporting turn in “First Reformed,” Schrader has made a habit of seeking out comedic actors willing to play against type. That’s partly opportunistic on his part. “They’re eager to do it because they want to expand their palette, so you can get them for a price,” Schrader said, chuckling again. “That’s necessary, given the kind of films I make.” But that’s not all: “They will always find a way to be interesting, even when they’re not getting a laugh.”

Which is not to say that the process comes easily to them. Haddish recently told the New York Times that Schrader had to coach her out of speaking in a comedic sing-song. The filmmaker put it in blunter terms. “On the first reading of the script we had, frankly, she wasn’t very good,” he said. “I told her to go back and read every single line without emotion. Then I said, ‘You’re not going to do that in front of the camera, but you can’t hit every line either. So let’s pick five or six lines you can hit where you get a smile or reaction.’ Quickly she got that it was a different rhythm.”

As for Isaac, whose disquieting turn suggests a maniac lingering just beneath the surface, Schrader once again turned to metaphor. “I told him to imagine himself on a rocky coast in the ocean,” Schrader said. “Waves are going to come up and get you all day every day. They’re going to try to batter you. Let them. The waves will go away. You’ll still be there. Don’t compete. In the end, the rocks will win. You have to learn to trust that the way these things are put together has more power than the individual movement.”

William’s routine includes an odd ritual in which he covers all the furniture in his various Vegas hotel rooms with white paper. While the motivation is never explained, Schrader said it stemmed from an experience with production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti on the set of 1982’s “Cat People,” when Schrader realized the man was doing the same thing. “He said, quite simply, ‘I have to live here surrounded by these ugly hotel furnishings,’” Schrader recalled. The concept inspired the new movie’s most compelling visual motif. “Casinos are very ugly places. There are no exceptions,” Schrader said. “Often you aspire to finding pockets of beauty and there weren’t really any here except the only place he could control, which was his hotel rooms, where he could privatize his visions. I came up with this ritual for him to control those visuals.”

At a certain point, Schrader himself couldn’t control the visuals of “The Card Counter” for more prosaic reasons: After an extra tested positive for COVID-19, the production shut down last March, with five days of shooting left, and couldn’t resume until July. Though Schrader initially took to Facebook to fume at his producers, the pause eventually opened up an opportunity to tweak his vision. “I edited the film and put in placeholders for the five or six scenes of consequence that I hadn’t shot,” he said. “I didn’t have a fully finished film but I could screen it for people. Normally you only get that privilege if you have a big-budget film and you’re allowed reshoots.” The early audience included Scorsese, who provided a crucial note. “I asked Marty, ‘What am I missing?’ He said to me that the relationship with Tiffany and Oscar was too thin. So I rewrote those scenes.”

Schrader asked Scorsese to take on the executive producer credit as a favor. “I said, ‘Marty, wouldn’t it be nice to share a card again? I thought it would help sell the film but it would also be a cool thing to do after all these years,’” Schrader said. “Then a couple of weeks later his agent called wanting to work out a deal. What deal? I asked Marty and he said yes. That’s the deal!” Now, the pair are trying to collaborate on a new long-form TV series based on the Bible, though the timing has been delayed by production on Scorsese’s upcoming “Killers of the Flower Moon.”

In the meantime, Schrader has been mulling over the way “Taxi Driver” not only continues to inform his storytelling but the world at large. “Hardly a week goes by that I don’t notice or hear some reference to it,” he said. “But I don’t know how you’d tell such a story today. A number of writers have tried and I don’t think they’ve succeeded because it has to come out of a certain place and time. We have plenty of these incels around, but they’re not as original or revealing as they were 45 years ago when that character came on the scene. I wouldn’t know how to write about it.”

Instead, his next project is a love triangle called “Master Gardener,” which he hopes to shoot in Louisiana before the end of the year. He has several other potential scripts ready to go after that. And while he has expressed trepidation about the future of cinema in the past, he’s not convinced that audiences have given up on it yet. He recalled a conversation he had with Cedric the Entertainer when “First Reformed” made the rounds. “He said off-handedly to me, ‘You know, I didn’t realize there were so many people who liked serious movies,’” Schrader said, and chuckled once more. “Well, yeah, there are.”

“The Card Counter” premieres next week at the Venice Film Festival. Focus Features releases on September 10, 2021.

###

[maandarinee]

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

[ephemereos]

Pet Sematary- Kawoshin au

This is going to be a bit messy especially because it's the most underdeveloped au of mine, considering all the inspiration came from this song. Mind you I have never read the book nor seen the movie, I just have a very vague idea of what it is about so be nice please dksjfk

Warning for angst, morbid temes (death, decay)

The au is set in the modern day, no evas or anything, Shinji and Kaworu meet in highschool and start dating. They live in a quiet town where the weirdest thing is the pet cemetery that the kids take care of, having their little rituals or going to play there. You know, those kinds of weird things kids do.

Everything is going fairly well, not a worry in sight for either Shinji or Kaworu, until the accident. One night after having dinner at Shinji's, Kaworu is walking back home. Nothing unusual, he lives fairly close, it's a 10 minute walk and it's a fairly quiet area of town. Except for that night. A drunk driver comes speeding into the street and despite Kaworu's effort to dodge, he's hit straight on and dies immediately.

Half of the city mourns him, he was well known and people liked him for his calm and amiable personality. Shinji is completely devastated. The two days before the funeral he's a mess, refusing food, visits, anything, he's closed himself off in his room. No one knows what is going on in his mind, people are afraid he's going to hurt himself. The day of the funeral he looks like a zombie. Once the funeral is over, he stands in front of the grave for a long time, before he's dragged away by his family. unexpectedly, he does not resist.

The same night he breaks out of the house, shovel in hand. He had heard from the town's kids, a few weeks before, about how the pet cemetery was magical and could bring your beloved cat back. At first Shinji did not give it much thought, it was just children's talk. But in his depressed and desperate state, anything was worth clinging to. Even the idea of digging up your boyfriend's corpse and dragging it to the pet cemetery in the middle of the forest, especially if it meant seeing him again.

He digs up the grave, opens the casket. Kaworu is still as beautiful as the last time he saw him alive, despite the extreme paleness, too much even for his already milky-white complexion. He's so terribly cold. Desperation is all that drives Shinji, giving him unusual strength too, enough to hoist his boyfriend's dead body on his shoulders to drag him out the grave, before covering the tracks of his deed. With Kaworu on his shoulders, he starts walking to where he knows the pet cemetery awaits him, his phone torch his only aid. At the cemetery he digs Kaworu a proper grave in a free, isolated area, laying him down in the gentles way possible while his tears blur his vision and wet the corpse's clothes. He covers him carefully with the soft soil and makes a cross with what he can find, attaching a small sign to it that he had made himself beforehand: "Here lies Kaworu, beloved boyfriend, angel on earth." Shinji sits in front of the grave and waits. He waits for hours but nothing happens. Close to sunrise, he rushes home, not wanting to be found out. The following days are agony. Part of him knew it wasn't going to work but he was still hoping. He went back to the cemetery every night, for a few hours. Looking at the cross, talking to the grave, desperately hoping something would happen and fast. The more time passed the more chances there were that animals and bugs would begin feasting on his boyfriend.

The third night, something did happen. With the full moon shining its pale light on the cemetery, Shinji saw the earth of his boyfriend's grave move. His tears of joy soon turned to tears of fear and regret as his boyfriend's body crawled out of the grave, begging Shinji to not make him live again, to not make him go through all of that another time. The trauma of his own death had scarred him so much that now he was afraid of dying again and would have rather stayed on the other side.

[prose-for-hire]

Supernatural Activity

Pairing: Rupert Giles x reader

Request: omgggg „dont mess with the cat“ and its the baby monitor“ and giles, maybe? that would be amaaazing

Requested by: Anon

Warning: swearing. 

c/n = cat’s name lol. I didn’t wanna assign a name you can do that! The cat is a boy though (sorry idk why I can change it if u want) 🖤🦇

You and Giles had moved in together. You had taken a while to find the perfect place, especially considering that you lived on top of a Hellmouth. A lot of properties were ridiculously good value because a surprising amount of suspicious deaths happened here. You had offered to move into the house he already lived in, but he insisted that you should have a house you could share that would be yours together.

You finally found one that was perfect, or what you had thought was perfect. 

You had been relaxing one Autumn evening, in front of the fire that Giles had just got going. Your cat was relaxing on your lap as Giles slid into the seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You closed your eyes, inhaling his familiar scent that enveloped you with his hug. 

You cosied up in front of the fire, wrapping your arms around his torso. You had more chance to relax around this time of year, Halloween was usually quiet and the younger people you usually helped out were busy going to parties and struggling with their social lives over the supernatural at the moment.

Giles had kissed the top of your head from the position you were in, now resting against his chest. You had been watching the television, or relaxing together with the tv on in the background. Except suddenly you heard this horrible noise. This crackling and popping. It was feedback. From some kind of device. A baby crying. Wailing for someone. 

You squinted around, starting to get freaked out. Something wasn;t right. The room felt cold, despite your body curled up beside Giles with the roaring fire. You looked up at him and he didn’t appear phased. You sat up properly, looking around. Squinting.

“Giles…” You say slowly. Giles had stayed in the same position, looking towards the television feigning boredom but he appeared to be into whatever it was taht was on. You had to take the remote and mute the sound, “Giles can you hear that?”

“Oh, it’s just the baby monitor” Giles muttered after listening a moment, cleaning his glasses and smiling at you as if this were the natural conclusion. You squinted at him, looking around in confusion.

“Giles… we don’t have a baby” You say slowly. This made him jump into action. Of course - you didn’t have a baby! He panicked, walking towards the noise.

You, against your better judgement, went with Giles to look around the house to check where the noise was coming from. C/n weaved between both of your legs, coming too. But he stopped on the landing, hissing and running off in the opposite direction.

It got louder as you walked towards the spare room. You tensed, taking Giles’ sleeve and tugging him back. You were scared, you didn’t want him to get hurt. He nodded reassuringly, sliding his hand into yours and clasping it tight. The door opened slowly, it revealed... nothing.

There was no movement. No noise and definitely no baby.

You exchanged a look, silently agreeing to just leave that room alone from then on. You didn’t speak much for the rest of the evening, still hyperaware of any noises in the house. You went to sleep earlier than usual, clinging to Giles as you tried in vain to get some sleep.

You had managed some brief sleep, however you had a bad feeling which woke you up. Then came a strangled noise and a crash. You ran out of bed, with Giles close behind, in time to see your cat starting to float in mid-air while it thrashed against whatever it was. His tail was bushy and standing on end with his sharp teeth exposed whilst he hissed at the invisible force.

You reached and scooped your cat and pulled him into you, scowling around at the room.

“I’m fucking warning you!” You point at the ceiling as if the spirit were floating there, “Don’t mess with the cat!” You shouted, hugging the little fluff ball closer to your chest to make sure you were protecting him. You had seen movies like this - the pet was usually the first to go. Not on your watch.

“Y/n is it really necessary to use that language?”

“Oh I’m sorry did you want me to invite the poltergeist into the kitchen for a cup of tea!?”

“No, of course not. It just isn’t wise to… rile it up” He said gently, knowing how protective you were of the cat. You had expressed more than once that it felt like a little family, with you, the cat and Giles. Which he had adored when you had revealed this to him. He really did love you. He nodded once in understanding, pressing a kiss against the side of your head. You softened, melting into it a little, before snapping your eyes back open and shouting, “It’s Halloween tomorrow aren’t you meant to have the day off?!” scowling up at the ceiling again.

The movement seemed to disappear. So you eventually padded back to your shared bed, setting your cat at the end of the bed to ensure he was safe. You both slipped back into bed and huddled together as you tried to get some sleep. Your anger dissipating with every soft touch Giles gave you in the safety of your shared bed. 

“We have to do something, sweetheart” You sigh, cuddling up to him. You weren’t fond of being haunted, it appeared.

“Let’s just, see what the spirit wants and see if we can, ah, assist. I will look up some books tomorrow” He muttered, stroking the back of your head softly. You nodded, well aware of his tendency to say a more polite version of what he really wanted to say.

“Can I bring c/n? please?” You whispered into his ear as you began to fall asleep nestled against his side.

The next morning was Halloween, a very busy day for you and Giles in the store you owned together. You usually enjoyed the day, but you were tired this morning and you snapped at Xander too many times so he threatened to walk.

This lead to you having to buy donuts to keep him sweet, which appeared to make him instantly your friend again. You explained yours and Giles’ predicament between the rush of customers and heard their suggestions which, although well-meaning, were entirely unhelpful. Your cat weaved between each customer, giving them a little entertainment whilst they waited in the long queues.

“Maybe you should get a priest?” Willow asked, using what appeared to be an entire roll of tape on a customers gift wrap. You were too busy reading a book on possession to supervise her properly so Anya snatched it from her and started to wrap it correctly.

“Yeah, you wanna go full-Exorcist. It is Halloween, G-man” Xander piped up and you let it slide with a mere eyeroll, seeing as you had snapped at him so much already today and Giles let him off with just a withering look.

You and Giles did a little more researching and decided the best way forwards was a ritual to reveal who you were dealing with and then one to cast out the spirit. You had everything lined up and you even colour coded the ritual into sections for him - you knew he loved it when you did that. 

You decided you should probably do it as soon as possible. You presented your plan to the group after you finally closed up and the tired Scoobies listened. Their faces twisting into panic as they realised it sounded like a group event.

“Do we, uh, all have to be there?” Buffy asked, looking around and trying to silently come up with an excuse with the others. You caught this and winked at her.

“Well, we could use all of the help that we can get” Giles said solemnly, well aware of the horrified faces of the young people around him. He was about to launch into a long speech about duty.

“No. You can go to your Halloween party! Giles, there are some things that have to be dealt with alone, it’s our responsibility. We can do it just fine” You looped your arms around his neck and left a few soft kisses against his slightly parted mouth, in case he was still trying to protest. The Scoobies all took this as their cue to get up and run out of the door before Giles could change his mind. Dawn had taken your cat in the carrier, so that he was safe while you spent your Halloween dealing with whatever it was that had moved into your house (or maybe you had moved into its house?).

You made it home, wincing slightly as you saw the state of your kitchen. All of the cupboards were open. Cutlery was littering the floor. All of them had been paired with another, forming upside down crosses all over the floor. You smelt something and your eyes widened in horror. The gas was on. You ran over to turn  it off and when you looked back around you saw that the teapot was cracked and in pieces in the centre of the wooden dining table. Clearly, the ghost wasn’t a fan of tea. Maybe it was a good job you didn’t offer it any.

You both cleared up, Giles staying quiet as you ranted through the tidying. You slammed the cutlery back in place. Crashing the cupboard doors closed. The teapot which you had really liked had to go straight into the bin.

When you finally finished, collapsing into the chairs in your living room. You felt exhausted. You weren’t sure if you had the energy to do this. You held onto the cross that Buffy had kindly gifted you and Giles earlier in the day.

A loud smash echoed through the house, making Giles jump and scatter your handwritten notes on the rituals you would have to perform all over the

You both rushed to pick them up before any poltergeist saw them and started to attack you before you could begin your plan. You then ran in to see what had happened, the noise having come from the kitchen. But this time, nothing was out of place. In fact, it was eerily clean. Spotless. 

You decided you did have the energy. You wanted this entity gone. You couldn’t even relax in your home for a second anymore. This was further evident when you heard a loud scoff and a thud.

You rushed in, expecting to see Giles wrestling with a ghost, but instead you saw him glaring at the book case in the living room.

“For the love of all that is- will you please cease with the ridiculous organisation of my bookshelves! I cannot find a bloody thing!” He shouted at mid-air. It had been the one thing through all of this that had gotten a reaction.

“Now, now is that language really necessary, sweetie?” You giggle as he turned to face you, his temper still frayed.

“I cannot stand to live beside this-this-!” He looked around, as if he could have seen if the poltergeist was listening in, but obviously wasn’t able to see anything, “The books, y/n! the books!” He started to get worked up until your hand slid lightly up his chest, rubbing soothingly.

“I know, that’s why we’re doing a- doing what we’re doing- on Halloween night” You hinted, not wanting the entity to know what you planned. You kissed him on the cheek and nestled into him, hoping he could feel your love and comfort coursing through him like blood. He appeared to calm as he held you to him, but he was still frowning around him and towards the bookcase.

It was finally time. It was almost midnight and you started to paint the pentagram on one of the small, circular hardwood tables as Giles shook his head and muttered under his breath. He had given his blessing to use one of the tables he had brought with him into your home from England, but it didn’t mean he was pleased about it. You both set up, places crystals on each point of the pentagram. You also lit candles and brushing up pronunciation of Latin phrases before you began. 

You nodded at each other, he closed the space between you to press a chaste kiss against your lips. For luck. Or courage. You both held hands and started reciting the words. Asking the spirit to reveal itself. Asking for its purpose. Things started to shake, books started to fly out of the shelves and litter the floor. Giles had to do everything in his power to stay focused. 

The crystals flew at you both, scattering on the floor at your feet. You knew what this meant. It wanted you. It wanted to inhabit one of you. Possess you.

Giles didn’t even pause. He couldn’t have anything jeopardising his home. His love. He never wanted to be apart from you and so he started shouted that the spirit was being cast out. Cast from this home and back to where it came from. Nothing was happening except you were angering the demon. It had started to shriek. Blood curdling, squawks of terror that made you shiver.

The table was starting to shake, threatening to be thrown across the room and you panicked. Giles started to chant louder and you saw something from the corner of your eye. Giles was trying to contain the spirit within the confines of the pentagram at least - trying to cease the destruction of your shared home. A home that had held so much love and warmth being destroyed into nothing made him mad. He had memories in every room, he had told you of his love for you on the sofa that was now almost ripped in two.

You had seen a doll. You had picked it up from a fair, or a flea market. It was hideous. You don’t even remember why you bought it, it was oversized and had a blank stare that meant you had hidden it in a cupboard so you didn’t have to look at it. That now had been flung open with the contents littering the floor.

You panicked, having to move from the circle to grab the doll before placing it hurriedly into the centre of the pentagram. Giles said the final syllable and it happened. Everything suddenly went quiet. The room dull and empty. Littered with you entire lives surrounding you.

You had made it so the spirit passed into there. The doll. You winced as the doll started to shake and a horrible light filled the room. It was so bright it felt as if it was behind your eyes, inside your skull. A terrible scream felt as if it were exploding your eardrums before a cold silence fell again.

It was instinct. It had been dangerous, but you both agreed there would have been no other way. You stared around you at the mess and decided you needed to worry about the doll first.

You took the doll straight to the Magic Box and locked it up until you knew what to do with it.

You held hands as you stepped back over the threshold of your shared home, peering around corners and holding your breath before entering rooms. But it was okay. It was all back to normal. 

Nothing was out of place. It was as if the activity had been something you had made up. Something of a shared dream. But you knew that wasn’t the case, and thought better than ever mentioning it out loud.

You turned and almost knocked Giles over in your haste to celebrate with the biggest hug. He quickly recovered and held you close. It was over, you both sighed as the first rays of the sunrise peaked from behind your blinds. Everything was going to be okay.

The details of this story were based on true events.

Y/n and Giles went on to save the world several times since the events of this fic. They assisted the Slayer at the final battle of Sunnydale and both survived.

The doll was sent to the care of Wolfram & Hart. The whereabouts of the doll is currently unknown.

[midnightactual]

Yoruichi’s Soul

What if I told you that perhaps Yoruichi has a unique soul?

With the release of the latest chapter, we learn some interesting things about Shinigami. My intention isn’t really to write about Hell and its implications, but it’s pertinent to the point I want to make, so it’s a fine place to begin and I’ll address some asides along the way. Here is what Shunsui says in a fanlation:

There is a word, “reii” (spiritual authority). It’s a unit of measurement that used to be utilized by the nobles, and is said to represent the concentration of reiatsu that resides in reishi. The average division member has a reii of grade 20. Vice-Captains vary between grade 5 and grade 4. And Captains consist of grade 3 and higher. A Soul Reaper’s body is made up of reishi, and when they die their body turns into reishi and returns to the earth of Soul Society. But people classified as grade 3 and higher can't do that because their reiatsu concentration is too high. What allows them to return is this ritual, “Soul Funeral Festival”. This is what’s taught at the Soul Reaper Academy.

What I am about to say is the “superstition”. “Actually, reishi of grade 3 and higher cannot return to the earth of Soul Society no matter what.” So what should we do? We can’t allow reishi that’s too powerful to remain in Soul Society. The Soul Funeral Festival’s real purpose is something else. With this ritual, the deceased Captains are—[Sent down to Hell!]

And here is the translation by Shueisha themselves:

There is something called... spirit class. In the past, it was a scale used among aristocrats. It indicated the density of the spiritual pressure within reishi. A normal company member has 20th-class reishi. An Assistant Captain has fifth or fourth class. And those greater than third class are Captains. A Soul Reaper's body is composed of reishi. When they pass on, their body turns into reishi and is reclaimed by the soil of the Soul Society. But anyone above third class has spiritual pressure too dense to be reabsorbed without intervention. The Konso Reisai is a ceremony to allow that reishi to be returned. That is as much as we learned at the Shinoreijutsuin.

This next part is the old wives’ tale. In actuality... reishi that is third-class and above can never return to the soil of soul society. So what are we to do? It’s not as though we could allow overly powerful reishi to linger loose in Soul Society indefinitely. And therein lies the other reason behind Konso Reisai. With the ceremony, the deceased Captains are... [... Cast into Hell!]

I think you’ll find these both strongly agree in content, despite some slightly different word choices. To recap:

reii is a graded measurement of (the ratio of) reiatsu per unit of reishi

reishi with reii above grade 3 / third class (i.e., that of Taichō) does not decompose and retains its reiatsu indefinitely

this is a problem that must be dealt with

the solution is to cast such reishi into Hell

There’s a lot of discussion floating around regarding what all this means. Does this mean that all Taichō-class individuals go to Hell? Well... yes, actually. What Shunsui says here is unambiguous: any Taichō-class individual presents a problem. This means that say, Gin, Kaname, Kiganjō, and Kuruyashiki were issues that had to be dealt with. Now, it does seem like maybe Jūshirō, Retsu, and Yamamoto have been turned into wardens of Hell rather than merely incarcerated there, given what we see of Jūshirō’s zanpakutō. So perhaps it’s the case that loyal Taichō become wardens (truly, one never retires from the Gotei 13, even in death) and disloyal ones become incarcerated. (After all, why put traitors in charge of security?) But it’s unambiguous that all Taichō-class individuals must be dealt with this way—and indeed, so must any entity with sufficient reii.

(An example: this means Ulquiorra is merely dead, not gone. He should be essentially haunting Las Noches.)

I’ve always wondered what Ganju meant in chapter 83 when he said that Kaien’s powers were “sixth class” and now we know; Kaien, as a former Fukutaichō, is likely not in Hell, as his reii grade was initially sixth class and probably had not risen higher than fifth or fourth by the time of his death.

(There is probably also something to be said about Retsu’s remarks to Ichigo in the Dangai on the way to Fake Karakura regarding the possible “inherent crudeness” of his reiatsu, which suggests there is some kind of reiatsu quality.)

Okay, cool, but what does any of this have to do with Yoruichi? Well, I’m getting there.

Take note that the Konso Reisai / Soul Funeral Festival is happening 12 years after TYBW (in 2015) and is apparently reconstituting individuals in Hell with their personalities and memories at least partially intact (as Jūshirō still has his zanpakutō). This tells us that reiatsu represents a kind of spin on the concept of genetic memory... you might call it energetic memory. Everything that an individual is in Bleach is seemingly encoded within their reiatsu, and they can seemingly be reconstituted from it. (I am also told that Spirits Are Forever With You makes this explicitly true.)

Here’s the rub: this isn’t actually the first time we’ve seen this sort of thing.

It’s become evident that various tie-in media to Bleach have become quasi-canonical to the manga. The movie Bleach: Memories of Nobody was made quasi-canonical by Ichigo saying in TYBW that he’d been to the Valley of Screams once before, along with panels depicting its appearance in that movie and a note at the end of the chapter to see it for more information. The Zanpakutō Rebellion arc was made quasi-canonical through the novel Can’t Fear Your Own World. This latest chapter appears to make quasi-canonical some elements of Hell from the movie Bleach: Hell Verse.

Well, what happens in this chapter with reiatsu persisting and functioning as a record of a Shinigami’s essence, to include their personality and memories... is exactly how Kagerōza created the mod-souls he used to run his reigai army in the Gotei 13 Invading Army arc.

Everyone of Fukutaichō rank and above, except for Yamamoto, Sasakibe, and Yachiru, was copied as a mod-soul and put in reigai, to include Kisuke. We also know that this done by using traces of the reiatsu of the originals. Ichigo and Yoruichi were not subject to this.

Kagerōza eventually “reveals he is unable to make a reigai of Ichigo because he is not a pure Shinigami.” We can assume that because Yachiru is a zanpakutō herself, she can’t be copied. Yamamoto and Sasakibe present an interesting case, probably to do with some kind of warding. Another odd exception exists with Kagerōza’s refusal to copy Aizen, Gin, and Kaname; presumably he thought that once a traitor, always a traitor.

But what about Yoruichi?

Did she perhaps kill her reigai copy off-screen? In Episode 319 of that arc, she “fought three Shinigami captains and four lieutenant-level and above opponents at the same time with Hakuda without receiving any notable damage.” I’ve noted this before as an example of her martial prowess, but think about it tactically from Kagerōza’s perspective. Yoruichi is able to easily resist his forces, and he can make multiple reigai copies of an individual as he demonstrates with Momo. If Yoruichi was such a pain for his reigai to deal with, and he’d already copied her, why wouldn’t he just make another? Or several more?

The simplest answer is that he couldn’t. In say, the Zanpakutō Rebellion arc, the easiest (metatextual) answer as to why Yoruichi’s zanpakutō didn’t rebel wasn’t that she had some unusual mastery over it, but rather that there was no desire to come up with her zanpakutō. However, there was no reason for a reigai copy of her not to appear if it was at all possible... meaning it was likely impossible.

The fact that her zanpakutō didn’t rebel in that other arc (and that metatextual reasons do not make sense in-universe) does put her in yet another very small club, even if its membership is different (to include Kisuke this time). The only other really consistent member of the clubs she finds herself in is Ichigo; this suggests that Yoruichi’s soul is unique like Ichigo’s, if not in the same fashion or to the same extent.

Why might that be? Well, here are some possible options:

it’s all a coincidence, and there is nothing more significant to it

Yoruichi’s cat form makes her soul novel (A. perhaps her cat form is an expression of her zanpakutō and she’s permanently bonded with it; or B. perhaps her cat form is hereditary, as she seems to share phenotypic expression with Yūshirō and it is unlikely to be merely her heritage alone)

Yoruichi’s status as Tenshiheisōban makes her soul novel somehow, if one subscribes to the theory that the Shihōin are themselves the actual Tenshiheisō

Here, for this roleplay blog, I subscribe to a combination of (2b) and (3). Yoruichi has a unique heritage (which also accounts for the strange phenotypical expression) and her family (the Shihōin) have a sort of unusual “contract” with... well, the fundamental nature of reality itself. Regardless of whether one agrees with those choices in general, I think two things are clear:

the expansion of reiatsu put forward in this chapter was both presaged in the early manga and accords well enough with the previously anime-only Gotei 13 Invading Army arc that said arc may be considered pseudo-canonical as others have become

if that arc is taken as pseudo-canonical and complexed with other pseudo-canonical material, it suggests that there is something strange about Yoruichi.