#it’s meant to be unsettling and has eye contact those are the only trigger warnings i can think of

[ritties-moving]

i want to make an au of genloss based on I’m At Home which is a short film i watched at like 2am last night

[sweethq]

♡ Maniac // song scenario

𑁍 Characters: Oikawa Tōru, mentions of Iwaizumi Hajime

»»—Trigger warning(s): mild swearing, bullying, mentions of a car accident and death (kinda?)—-««

➶ Genre: angstttttt, timeskip!AU

✎ Word count: 5.5k

-ˏˋ A/N: Hello!! I’m so excited to share this piece of work with you all. This is my first attempt at writing a song scenario so please bear with me! This is also the first long-ish scenario that I am posting on this account which is super exciting!! I hope you all enjoy and I hope to keep posting content that you guys will like ^^ Also, I feel bad for making Oikawa look like a complete and utter jerk lol buuuuut you gotta do what you gotta do. Remember, this is all fiction and is all in good fun!ˊˎ-

Tōru has been acting weird the past few weeks, weirder than one should to their s/o after dating for nine months. The once loving, carefree boy that made your heart race seemed to disappear within a matter of seconds. You remembered the times walking in the city together. He would intertwine his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand while giving you a soft smile. Day trips out into the city are now rare, and when they do occur, the only physical contact is your arms grazing against each other which fades much too quickly.

You would visit his favorite bakery once every two weeks, ordering the same pastry every time: a strawberry iced doughnut. The first time you went there together, on your third date, your first bite ended with you smearing the icing on the corners of your mouth. Tōru chuckled, muttering a quiet “Clumsy,” before leaning over the table to wipe it off for you. You felt your heart clench in your chest, heat making its way up your neck and to your ears. Since then, you made it a point to order the same doughnut each time in hopes that Tōru would once again slide his finger over the corner of your mouth; and he did. Last week was the first time in nearly nine months that he didn’t, leaving an unsettling feeling in your stomach. These types of things were very routine in your relationship, so when they came to a sudden halt, you couldn’t help but feel curious and anxious at the same time. When the two of you are out together, it feels like he’s not even there. He doesn’t give the same warm smile, tell stupid jokes, or even give you a second glance. It just feels… distant.

You tried to approach him about it, knowing that there were too many things that were suddenly changing. “Do you not love me anymore?” “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” “Is there someone else?” Tōru felt guilty. Guilty that he would give you any reason to believe that he was being unfaithful.

“I’m sorry I’ve been making you feel this way, I never meant to hurt you. I’ll do better, I promise,” he stated before walking closer to you. He raised his hand to softly caress your cheek, deeply staring into your eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He placed a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away and placing another on your forehead.

“I have to go, I promised Iwa-chan that I would go to his place to hang with him and the other guys. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” You gave a small smile and a nod, him returning the favor with another kiss on the forehead before walking out the door. You couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t give an answer to any of the questions you asked.

----------

A few hours have passed since Tōru left, and you can’t stop thinking about the unanswered questions from earlier. You went back and forth between pacing the room, sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, and laying on the floor; hoping that one of these things would help your brain think of a possible explanation. After hours of thinking, you notice his jacket resting on the back of one of your dining room chairs. Your eyes light up, knowing this would be a reasonable excuse to visit your boyfriend at Iwaizumi’s place.

The walk was short, but gave you enough time to think about what you would say when you saw Tōru, not quite sure why you feel the need to think of a script to talk to him. You stand outside Iwaizumi’s door, breathing a sigh of relief as you hear your boyfriend’s loud voice through the wall that separates you two. As you bring your hand up to knock, you suddenly hear your name be said by a female voice, making you freeze in your place. You can’t help but let your curiosity get the better of you. You slowly inch closer to the door and press your ear against it, hoping to not make any unwanted noises.

“Didn’t you say you only asked them out because you pitied them?”

“Yeah, I just felt bad for them. They would always follow me around and tell me how much they love me. I thought it would be fun to play a little game.” You can tell that Tōru’s words were laced with alcohol. The girls inside the room let out little giggles, one commenting, “What a freak.”

The longer you stand with your ear against the door, the more pain you feel in your heart.

“When are you finally going to ditch them? Aren’t you tired of sticking around someone you don’t even like?” There is a long pause after these questions are asked. I’ll never leave them. I love them too much. You hoped he would say something of that sort, but once again was met with disappointment.

“Well I thought that the longer I stay with them, the more fun it will be to end things. You know, it’ll hurt more, I guess…” His words are a little hesitant, voice getting smaller the further into the sentence he got.

“Who knows, maybe they’ll die from a broken heart.” The voice doesn’t belong to Tōru, but the laugh that follows after does. So many emotions are flooding through your brain and your heart, and you’re not sure how to comprehend them all.

You clutch his jacket in your fist, knuckles quick to turn white. Unwelcome tears pool in your eyes as your hands begin to shake. You silently pray that this was all a horrible dream and you didn’t actually hear those words escape his mouth, but know deep down that this is all too real. Quiet sobs left your mouth as you bend down into a squat, legs almost giving out under you. You can’t help but think back to your time with Tōru, all the memories you made together. Was it all a lie? All of the late night walks, the picnics by the river, the little inside jokes, the love… was it all a part of a game?

The sound of a door opening interrupts your thoughts.

You slowly lift your head up to meet the eyes of your boyfriend. You can sense the panic in his face, not sure how long you have been there or how much you heard. The tears streaming down your face tell him that you heard everything. He takes a slight step towards you, reaching out for your hand.

“Y/N, wait-”

You throw his jacket at him before running off the porch and down the street, wanting to be anywhere but in front of the boy who just tore your heart into pieces. You hear him shouting behind you. This is just a misunderstanding. Let me explain. What is there to misunderstand? You gave your heart to someone who promised to take care of it as if it were his own, and you’re now facing the consequences because of it.

You run all the way back to your home, ignoring the burning sensation in your calves. You slam the door behind you and lock it, not wanting any uninvited guests (Tōru). You stand in your empty house, eyes now dry from the cold wind that blew in your face on the run home. Everywhere you look you see him. All of the space between these walls has touched him and will hold him in its memory.

You walk to the kitchen, letting your fingertips graze the shiny countertop, smiling when thinking about the mess you two would always make while baking.

Snickerdoodles were always a must when the holidays came around. You were determined to bake the best snickerdoodles known to man when Tōru told you he had never tasted the heavenly treat. You prepared the ingredients on the counter, humming a soft tune to fill the silence in the room. Tōru stood beside you, admiring the calm look on your face and how delicate you looked. He approached you from behind, snaking his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He always found it fascinating to watch you bake since everything he would put in an oven would somehow instantly catch on fire. He started to slowly bring his hands back to place them on your hips then run them up your sides. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but let him continue anyways. After drawing little circles over your ribs, he started to tickle you, knowing that you would give him a reaction. You yelped, arms flailing without your consent, knocking over the open bottle of cream into the bowl where the dough was, ruining the cookies that were nearly ready to go into the oven. You gasped before quickly picking up the overturned carton, staring at the masterpiece that quickly turned into a disaster. You huffed and turned to look at your boyfriend who had an apologetic smirk on his face. How can someone express those two emotions at the same time? You stared at him for a second, trying to find the words to voice your frustration. You decided that instead of telling him how you felt, you would show him. You reached behind you and grabbed an egg off the counter, rubbing your thumb against its smooth shell before smashing it in Tōru’s perfectly styled hair, wiping the smirk right off of his face. You couldn’t hold in your laughs as the yolk dripped down his forehead and in between his chocolate eyes. The shock on his face didn’t last for long. He was quick to grab another egg and return the favor, this time topping it off with a handful of flour. Now the kitchen was covered with various ingredients flung in different directions and a couple of idiots that were even messier than the kitchen itself. As the sun was beginning to set, you ran out of items to throw at each other. You stared at him, chuckling at the mess you had made of each other. Even looking at him with egg in his hair and flour covering his complexion, he was still the most beautiful person to you. The sun’s rays beamed through the window making Tōru’s eyes look like pools of honey, sucking you into them deeper and deeper. You brought your hand up to his face and softly caressed his cheek, admiring every inch of his beauty.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” A coy grin on his face after he noticed you staring at him, a hint of pink on the tip of his ears. To his surprise, you pulled out your phone and took a picture of him just like he told you to, reminding yourself to make it his new contact picture later. He chuckled slightly, muttering a soft, “Idiot,” before putting his hand on the back of your neck and closing the space between the two of you. His lips tasted like cinnamon and sugar with a hint of vanilla. After the sweet kiss, you pulled away, making sure to keep your foreheads connected so you could just appreciate being with him in his arms.

You smile at the memory that is all too vivid in your mind. You walk into the living room and glance at the pictures that scatter the walls. You approach Tōru’s favorite picture of the two of you, one that you initially hated but grew to love over time.

It was the 18th of December when Tōru dragged you out of the house for your ‘special Christmas surprise’. You questioned him on why it couldn’t wait until Christmas day but he insisted that it had to be today. When you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he turned to you and held out a blindfold for you to take.

“There’s no way in hell that I’m putting that thing on,” you said, staring him dead in the eyes.

“Come on Y/N-channnn! Just this once, I promise. If you do it, I’ll buy you boba on the way home.” His words were so convincing. You were quick to grab the blindfold out of his hand, grumbling a quiet, “Fine,” as you tied it so it was blocking your vision.

The car ride felt like it took a lifetime and then some, but in reality took no longer than ten minutes. Tōru instructed you to keep the blindfold on and wait for him to come on your side of the car to help you out. You let out a loud sigh, not exactly sure why you still couldn’t take the piece of fabric off. He wrapped his arm around your waist and guided you to your final location, making sure to point out any steps or dips in the ground that were approaching. After a short minute walk, you were met with adults chattering and a mixture of children screaming in excitement and crying in fear. You concluded that you were definitely in a very public place, but had absolutely no idea where your lunatic of a boyfriend brought you. After standing around for a couple of minutes and you groaning about how bored you were, you heard an unknown voice shout, “Next!” which made Tōru take a few steps forward, you still in his hold, sightless.

“Okay baby. You can take your blindfold off now!” His voice was covered in excitement, which made you even more anxious to take the piece of cloth off. A smile crept onto your face but when the blindfold came off, so did your smile. You stared straight ahead at the surprise that Tōru had in store for you before turning to face him, a shit-eating grin on his face. You could see tears in his eyes from trying to hold in his laughter.

“Tōru…… What is this.”

“It’s….. It’s Santa Clause.”

“Yeah, but W H Y ?”

He didn’t give you a reply, but instead grabbed your wrist and dragged you to stand in front of the man of the hour. You forced a smile on your face, not wanting to seem rude.

“Hi Santa! My s/o over here really loves and admires you and would appreciate taking a picture sitting on your lap. Is that okay?” His words came out sweet, but they were covered in venom. This was probably payback for the time you ‘accidentally’ spilled your drink on his crotch when you went hiking and proceeded to tell people passing by that he just sweats a lot.

“Of course! Anything for this cutie,” Santa said in a voice used to speak to babies, pinching your cheek in the process. You kinda stood there, not quite sure what to do. You definitely did NOT want to sit on his lap, but at the same time, you were too nice to just walk out of there. Tōru could see your hesitance and decided to give you a little *shove* in the right direction (A/N: please know that y/n is not uncomfortable in this situation, but rather just finds the act embarrassing. Tōru would not make them do this if he knew that they would be uncomfortable). Once you found a spot on Santa’s right knee, you told the person behind the camera to quickly take the photo. You noticed Tōru standing on the other side of Santa’s chair holding a peace sign and smiling from ear to ear. You stare at him with pure anger, wanting to wipe that stupid smile off his face. You didn’t even realize that the photo had already been taken. Tōru ended up printing dozens of copies of this photo, making sure to give it to each of your friends and family on Christmas day.

You look at the photo of the two of you, well, actually the three of you. You seem so angry in the picture, but you know that behind all of that anger, you still were stupidly in love with him. You laugh at how it’s ironic to the situation you’re in. You’re mad. More than mad, furious. Furious that you have all of these memories together and all you can think about is how they are full of lies. Furious that even though he hurt you and will continue to hurt you, you still love that tall idiot.

There’s a knock at the door.

“Y/N… Please open the door. I need to see your face.” You don’t move a muscle, your eyes still locked on that photo.

Another knock. Two. Three.

“Please… You need to hear me out.”

More knocking.

You glance at the door, knowing what awaits you on the other side. The sound of knocking engulfs your house, it’s driving you mad. You breathe out a heavy sigh before storming towards the door and swinging it open.

“What,” you spit at him, trying to ignore the empathy that you feel at the sight of his red eyes and swollen lips. He just stares at you, almost like he was trying to tell if you were real or not. You started to close the door, seeing as you were just wasting time. His hand stops the door before it could shut. You open it again, wide enough for him to be back in your line of sight. He looks down at his intertwined hands that hold a single red rose before looking back up at you and extending his arms.

“I-i got this for you on my way here. I know you like daisies more, but I couldn’t find any so I thought this would be okay.” His voice was quiet and strained, like if he spoke up a little more he would break. He tries to keep a small smile on his face, but when you let a laugh escape your lips, he instantly frowns. You stop laughing.

“Why are you here, Oikawa?”

----------

You were with your friends partying

When the alcohol kicked in, said you wanted me dead

So, you showed up at my home, all alone

With a shovel and a rose

Do you think I’m a joke?

----------

Oikawa winces when his last name falls off your lips. He always loved it when you called him Tōru, and you knew that. But this wasn’t Tōru, not the one that you fell in love with. This wasn’t the same guy that would play with your hair when you laid your head in his lap, or kissed your fingertips when you’d accidentally burn them. No. This is someone different. Someone you feel you don’t even know.

“I’m.. I’m so sorry, Y/N! I never meant to hurt you. God, I’m such an idiot… I don’t even know how to explain myse-”

“Just answer me this. Did you ever love me? Or were these past nine months a complete lie?” You hold your breath, hoping the tears will stop threatening to fall. You were hesitant to ask these questions, knowing that the answer could crush you, but you needed to know. Oikawa’s eyes grew, tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

“Of course I loved you! I still do, so, so much! These past nine months have been the best months of my entire life, none of it was fake, I promise. You’re the love of my life, Y/N. I can’t fake something like that…” Oikawa’s eyes were burning holes into yours, you started to wonder the last time he blinked. His words were convincing, but the words he said earlier this night kept playing on repeat in your head.

“Bullshit. If you love me so much, why would you say those things about me? Why would you tell them that I was some crazy stalker who was obsessed with you? Why would you tell them that you’re dating me as a joke? Why did you say all of these things that you knew would hurt me?” A single tear falls, causing the others to join. Oikawa takes a step forward, wanting to kiss your tears and pain away. You simultaneously take a step back, finally breaking the eye contact that bound the two of you together. His heart broke at the sight of you. Not only were you hurting, but you were hurting because of him.

“I-I just… Just… I-”

“You just what?”

He continues to stare at you, wondering whether or not he should even attempt to explain himself. His sober mind knows that his actions are the result of narcissism and stupidity, and there’s a chance that his lame excuse could hurt you even more.

“Most of the people that I was with tonight, I don’t usually hang out with. Recently Iwa-chan has been inviting them to hang out because they’re always pestering us and we thought if we hung out with them a few times, they would stop. So we invited them to hang out, have a few drinks, and show them how boring we are,” he stopped to take a breath, hesitant to move on. “I guess they knew that I was dating you and, for whatever reason, didn’t like that. They would make fun of me and say mean things and… it reminded me of my childhood when I used to get bullied and was an outcast. I guess it really traumatized me because when that feeling came back, I wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. I guess the alcohol made that decision for me and that’s when I started saying all of those horrible things and… I guess I didn’t think it was going to affect our relationship because I didn’t think you would ever find out… I know I’m such an asshole, but please you need to know that none of the things I told them were true. My love for you is completely and utterly real, and the fact that I screwed it up is killing me.”

You remain silent, once again staring into Oikawa’s eyes, reading him like a book. His eyes shine like glass, full of guilt and sorrow. His bottom lip is red from biting it, hoping to make it stop quivering. His interlocked hands are still holding the rose he brought you, his thumbs anxiously fiddling with each other. You can tell that he genuinely feels sorry and ashamed of his mistakes.

“Y/N. Please, say something. Anything.”

Unfortunately for him, there was no longer room in your heart for forgiveness.

“So I guess you’ve been telling them these kinds of things for a while now, huh? I guess that explains why you stopped acting like we’re a couple in public, right? You didn’t want one of your new friends to see us and question your motives.” You give a small laugh, not sure if it’s out of self-pity or anger. “You should go back to Iwaizumi’s. I’m sure they’re all wondering where you went and why you ran after your psychotic s/o who you don’t even like… Just keep telling them the same story, or better yet, why don’t you tell them that you broke my heart, threw it in my face, and then laughed at me? I’m sure you’ll earn some extra brownie points from them.” You look at his eyes one last time before turning around to walk back inside, pausing before shutting the door. “I’ll stop by your place tomorrow to pick up my things.”

Before you could close the door, Oikawa pleaded.

“Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you in my life.”

You pause at the shakiness in his voice, so close to caving in and forgetting all of the events that occurred tonight. Before you can make any impulsive decisions, you shut the door in his face, not wanting to think about how he’s feeling or what he’s going to do. You try to ignore any type of empathy you feel for him, he’s the one that hurt you, remember?

----------

Well, people like you always want back what they can’t have

But I’m past that, and you know that

So you should turn back to your rat pack, telling ‘em trash

----------

You lay on the sofa holding a picture of Oikawa in your lap, not attempting to move from your spot for the hour since Oikawa left. You hate that after all of the things he said about you, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him and how much you wish he were right next to you. You wish that he were holding you close and wiping the stray tears that leave your eyes, but instead, he was the one inflicting them. The white ceiling above you keeps your attention, becoming the screen as your memories become the projector. You can almost visualize all of the times you spent with Oikawa, even the times before you started dating. You wish you could go back to the simpler times, the times when things weren’t turning to shit.

Your phone rings beside you. You remember in the beginning of your relationship with Oikawa your heart would always race when you got a phone call or message, hoping that it was him on the other side. Even at a time like this, your mind can’t help but think of those chocolate eyes and soft brown locks. You pick up your phone and stare at the caller ID. It’s Oikawa.

You fight with yourself, deciding whether or not it would be smart to answer his call. You click ‘accept’ before you have a chance to back out again.

The call is silent with the exception of sniffles on the other end. Oikawa breaks the silence.

“Y/N? A-are you there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m here. Why are you calling?”

“I just really, really wanted to hear your voice.” You hear the rev of a car engine through the phone.

“You shouldn’t be talking on the phone while you’re driving. It’s dangerous.”

“But talking to you makes me feel so safe.” Silence engulfed the phone call, neither of you knowing what to say to each other. Oikawa starts to cry, his sobs soon becoming the only thing you can hear. You continue to not say a word.

“God, I’m so stupid. I thought I was finally getting my life together. I’m in good health, I have my dream job, I met the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I had to go and fuck it all up. Honestly I don’t give a shit about my health or my job, all I care about is you. I just love you so much, I can’t-” His words are cut off by a long screech and then a loud crash. Once again, the call is silent.

“O-oikawa?” There’s no reply. “Oikawa?! Tōru?! Are you okay? Please answer me?” Your breathing was becoming erratic, shaky fingers having a hard time keeping the phone pressed against your cheek. You hear a groan and shuffling from the other side before getting a response.

“Shit. I crashed my damn car into a tree.”

“I don’t care about the car, are you okay? I need to call an ambulance for you-”

“No,” he interrupts you, “I don’t want to see any paramedics. The only person I want to see is you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you need to go to the hospital. You probably have a concussion, and you’re bleeding, aren’t you?”

“I don’t care. I won’t see anyone but you.” Oikawa takes a deep breath before getting out of his wrecked car. He starts his walk back home, not caring to wait for first responders. “I’m not going to beg you to come, but if you want to see me, you know where to find me.” He hangs up the phone, leaving you speechless on the other end.

You don’t want to waste another second. You quickly grab your car keys and toss your jacket over your shoulder. Even though you know it’s going to hurt you to see him again, you need to make sure he’s okay.

----------

You just went too far

Wrecked your car, called me crying in the dark

Now you’re breakin’ my heart

So I show up at your place right away

Wipe the tears off of your face

While you beg me to stay

----------

It’s stupid. Stupid that you’ll drop everything you’re doing to rush to his side whenever he says he needs you. Stupid that you still love and care about him just as much as you did in the beginning.

You turn the engine off upon arriving at Oikawa’s apartment. You swiftly get out of your car and race to his door, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to save a few seconds. You fiddle with the keys on your keychain as you reach his front door, trying to find the matching one. You knew all too well that one of Oikawa’s antics is always locking the door, even when he’s expecting company. You find the fitting key and waste no time unlocking the door and scouting the place for any sign of life. You figure he’s in his bedroom as the kitchen and living room remain vacant.

You peek around the corner that leads into his room, spotting the tall man laying on the bed, legs dangling over the edge.You gasp at the blood, cuts and scrapes coving his skin. You walk over to him and grab his cold hand, pulling him off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Sit,” you order, pointing at the counter. He obeys without a word, head hanging low. You search the cabinets for a first aid kit, knowing that he would have one from his volleyball days. After finding the small box, you pull out the materials that were needed to clean him up; lots of antibacterial wipes, gauze and band-aids. You take one of the wipes and press it onto a cut on his shin, Oikawa hissing at the impact. You ignore it and continue to clean the scrapes that scatter both of his legs, finishing with a deeper cut on his knee. As you finished cleaning it, you heard him sniffle and watched a tear fall into his lap.

“What are you, five? It doesn’t hurt that much-”

“I didn’t think you would come,” he whispered, voice shaky and emotionless. You peer up at him, his head still hanging and refusing to meet your eyes. You reach your hand up and wipe the tears that wet his face, your palm lingering, cupping his cheek. He melted into your touch.

“Idiot… Of course I would come.”

You spend the rest of the time patching up his wounds in silence, neither of you able to find the correct words in this situation. You finish putting the last band-aid on his cheekbone, your face in shocking proximity to his. He stares into your eyes, you looking anywhere but. You’re afraid that if you look into his eyes, there’s no turning back.

“I should go,” you mutter, not wanting to overstay your visit. You turn around to walk out of the bathroom, but come to a halt with the feeling of Oikawa’s slender fingers wrapping around your wrist.

“Please don’t leave me.” His grip tightened slightly, but not enough to hurt you. “I need you. Please.”

You stare straight ahead, not daring to turn around and face him.

“I’ll stay,” you start, “If you promise to give up your pride and tell everyone that you were lying. Tell them that you really do love me and that you were scared of what others would think. I’ll stay if you promise never to lie about those kinds of things and to never hurt me like you have ever again. Can you do that?” The silence was eerie, and made your stomach do hundreds of flips. You hoped that the universe would be on your side for once and hear the things you wished would escape his lips.

“I-I can’t… I just-”

You grabbed his wrist with your vacant hand and violently removed his grasp from yours, not letting him finish his sentence. You still stood with your back towards him, not wanting him to see the tears that were once again trickling down your face. You pull your keychain out of your pocket, finding your key to Oikawa’s apartment and stripping it from the rest. You drop it onto the floor by your feet, clanging a few times on the hardwood floor before it stops. As you walk out of the bathroom, your words make his heart clench in his chest.

“Goodbye, Oikawa.”

----------

Tell all of your friends that I’m crazy and drive you mad

That I’m such a stalker, a watcher, a psychopath

Then tell them you hate me, and dated me just for laughs

So why do you call me and tell me you want me back?

You maniac

[aenwoedbeannaa]

Forest Fires | Geralt x Reader | Part 7

Summary: You and your Witcher companion arrive in Ellander, where you encounter a familiar face. Unfortunately, being behind walls for the first time in years brings back some overwhelming memories.

Word Count: 3,068

Warnings: Might be triggering for those with PTSD or trauma. Panic attack, flashbacks. Nothing super graphic.

A/N: As usual—sorry for the delay in this chapter. I have so many WIPs, but I promise not to leave y’all hanging. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

If you enjoy my work and want to check out more of it, you can check out my masterlist, and if you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, comment or message me and I would be happy to add you 😊.

Forgotten Memories

For someone who has spent the past years not using magic, you are pleasantly surprised that the two of you emerge from the portal and into the very garden you’d seen in Geralt’s mind. More than a few girls, who you expect must be students, are standing frozen with their mouths agape.

You unwind your arms from around Geralt’s neck and take a couple steps away from him; you have only been here once before, and you are not entirely sure what sort of rules there are in a place like this. You never were one for religion. With magic, you hadn’t needed it. And after you ran away from your duties, you’d just assumed that even if there were gods or goddesses out there, they wouldn’t be looking down on you fondly.

The shocked silence of the temple garden is broken at last, by a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You turn your head to see someone you had not, if you were being honest, expected to see again during your lifetime.

“Yenna!”

The two of you rush to embrace one another; years of memories flooding your head and washing your mind full of pictures of Aretuza. Like so many others, Aretuza had been your first real home. Though at first, it seemed, the school was not much better than the cruel reality you faced outside of its walls. Tissia was a genius, but she could be cruel. Thankfully, it was not the same kind of cruelty you faced at the hands of your aunt and uncle who had taken you in after your parents died – that had been pointless and malicious. Tissia’s brand of cruelty was one meant to teach you something; to make you a better sorceress.

At one point, the school had been the only piece of the world that you had known, and seeing your old friend sends your mind in a whirl, back to the mind of a girl who knew nothing of the outside world until she was tossed out into it. Of course, you head ad been filled with images of going off to serve as a court mage, advising kings and queens. It had been an exciting prospect at the time – back when you still believed that rulers cared for their people; back when you believed that there was some good you could do advising one.

“You are quite possibly the last person I would have ever expected to see at the Temple of Melitele,” the raven-haired sorceress says matter-of-factly, but not rudely. That’s Yenna—blunt as always.

“I might say the same about you,” you say, corners of your lips twitching ever so slightly up.

“Everyone thought you were dead.” That statement hits you hard, as if you hadn’t wondered that. Still, you’d spent so long hidden out in the forest, always feeling as if you had to cover your tracks, keep your movements a secret – it was hard to think that people thought you were dead when you were constantly trying to hide from those who knew you were alive.

“Well, that had been the goal,” you admit. “After...” You trail off, not particularly wanting to recount your time in Nilfgaard. It had not been pleasant, but that went without saying. There was no need to relive it.

The raven-haired sorceress smiles wryly, “Believe me, I know.”

The two of you make eye contact for a brief moment that seems to stretch on far beyond the few seconds that it lasts. At Aretuza, you had seen one another as rivals – though no one could truly rival Yennefer. Now, there was a kinship between the two of you; two sorceresses who ran from their duties. You had not heard much of why Yennefer left, save the rumors that the queen and infant princess of Aedirn had perished because of her – but you did not believe those. Perhaps you had when you’d first heard them, but truth was, the aristocracy was cruel, not above killing one another for power.

Not above sending entire armies to sack an entire city and sending mages in to kidnap princesses.

Behind you, Geralt clears his throat, snapping you out of your reverie.

With your thoughts still somewhat muddled, you turn and extend your arm towards him. “Geralt of Rivia,” you introduce him yourself, “He’s a Witcher.”

Yennefer smirks, though there is a distance in her eyes that tells you she has not quite snapped from whatever thoughts and memories were flowing through her own mind.

“The famous White Wolf,” she says as she takes a couple of steps forward. “Mother Nenneke will be so pleased to know you’ve arrived at last.”

You raise an eyebrow, confused. He had not mentioned that he was expected here at the Temple. Though, the confusion written on his own face tells you that he had no idea, either.

“Iona the First,” Yennefer says matter-of-factly.

Geralt’s eyes light up as he acknowledges the name with a nod. You, on the other hand, have never heard the name, and only grow more confused.

“One of the priestesses here,” Geralt explains once he registers the befuddled look on your face. “She has certain... talents.”

“Even the temples have mages now?” you ask, still slightly bewildered. You’d never heard of such a thing. Though, you suppose you have been in hiding for quite a while, and before then, you’d had absolutely no interest in religion.

Yenna laughs, shaking her head and sending raven curls cascading about her shoulders. “Not a mage, no,” she says. “She has a gift. Goes into trances and teases out the future – or at least, possible futures. It’s really quite unsettling.”

“Sounds like it,” you mutter. This place is getting stranger by the moment, and being behind stone walls, no matter how expansive the open space within is, already has you feeling caged in like an animal at a market. Even worse, the Temple looks too much like a castle; like the castle you’d run from and like the castle you were ordered to take Cirilla from. That thought alone sets your heart racing.

Seeming to sense this, Geralt reaches out and places a hand under your elbow, steadying and reassuring. You are glad for it, given the fact that your hammering heart and racing thoughts were making your vision swim. Though, you suppose, it could also be residual effects of opening the portal after having used next to no magic in years. You remember the feeling quite well from your early days at Aretuza, when you’d leave a lesson so exhausted that you could hardly walk back to your room without falling over.

“Sorry,” you mumble, nearly tripping over your own feet when you try to shift your weight, but Geralt is there to support your weight, which seems to be growing heavier by the moment. “I’m just...” You trail off once more as you sway on your feet, prompting him to wrap his arm around you, allowing you to lean heavily against him.

“Opening the portal must have drained her,” Yenna says, her voice sounding quite far off, though you know she is only a few feet away from you. You are desperately trying to cling to consciousness. The last thing you want to do is show up here and look weak when this is supposed to be the beginning of some quest to find the girl. Right now, you are sure it seems that you are quite possibly the last sorceress on the entire Continent that anyone would want chasing after the Cintran princess.

Geralt, though his knowledge about magic is rather limited to the Witcher signs and some cursory knowledge that Visimir deemed necessary to his education, nods in agreement.

“She hasn’t used magic in years,” he explains while you struggle to keep your eyes open, “That portal was a first.”

“Well that’s one hell of a way to jump back into things,” Yennefer says. You can hear the smirk in her voice, and will yourself to smirk back. It certainly wasn’t the smartest way to go about it. Still, it wasn’t as if you had another choice. It could have taken weeks to travel here on foot or by horse, and it was clear that time was not something on your side – or at least it seemed that way. You just hope it is as safe here as Geralt claims it to be. A portal like that could easily serve as a thread for Nilfgaard to follow straight to you.

“Mother Nenekke has already arranged a room...” Yennefer trails off.

“One room is fine,” Geralt cuts in.

Yennefer nods, “Iola was able to track you, but she hadn’t seen anyone else in the trances.”

“Makes sense,” Geralt responds. You, however, have no idea how that makes sense exactly, but you are not in a place to ask questions. Thankfully, Geralt continues on, “She usually uses items connected to a person, and Nenneke wouldn’t have anything of hers.”

Yes, you suppose, that does make sense. That, and the fact that you have worked so hard these past years ensuring that you were about as untraceable and unfindable as possible. That could also have quite a lot to do with it. You just hope that this Mother Nenneke will not scoff at your presence. After all, if she is involved in this plot – or whatever it is – to retrieve the ashen-haired Child Surprise, she may think of you as the worst sort of scum.

Fear of that particular issue sets your heartrate speeding once more, which does nothing to help your current state. You feel as if your lungs are constricting, making it difficult to breathe. You slump against Geralt, unconsciously clawing at him as you attempt to regain your breath. He responds by scooping you up into his arms and nodding towards the Temple.

“Would be best to get her to the rooms so she can lie down,” he states.

“I’ll brew some tea that’ll help,” Yennefer adds quickly. “I trust you know your way around?”

Geralt mumbles a quick mhmm in agreement.

“It is, I believe, your usual room,” Yennefer states. You are drifting in and out of consiousness, and wonder momentarily exactly how many times Geralt has been here. It is, quite truthfully, the last place you’d expect a Witcher. Between yourself, Geralt, and Yennefer, is seems that Mother Nenneke keeps strange company indeed. You wonder how she hasn’t faced any sort of reparations from Termeria’s leaders. Though, perhaps they just as much interest in finding the girl as you three do – or possibly more, speaking from a political perspective.

“I... I’m sorry,” you choke out as the Witcher carries you through unfamiliar hallways, moving with the easy confidence of a person who feels himself to be at home in a place. “It’s just... magic, and the walls... I haven’t--”

“Shh,” Geralt cuts you off before you can continue on with your breathy sentences. “It only makes sense. No need to wear yourself out even more trying to explain.”

You would like to argue, but he is right. You don’t have the energy to spare between the incredible exhaustion caused by casting the first spell you’ve cased in years when you opened that portal and the panic that seems to have a vice grip on your throat. Truly, being behind walls is not something you enjoy.

It doesn’t take long for the Witcher to manage to make his way from the gardens all the way up to a set of rooms on the third or fourth floor – you've lost count. There is a large room with a desk, sitting area, and a large canopied bed, and you can see a door which you assume must lead to an adjoining bathroom. Despite the stone walls, you find that the room is bright and airy, thanks to several large windows that are open, letting sun filter in through billowing curtains.

Geralt carries you straight to the bed, setting you down gently on the cool sheets. Thanks to the open windows, the air smells of wood smoke at autumn, calming you as you force yourself to breathe in and out slowly, reminding yourself that you are not in Nilfgaard, and these are not the stone walls that surrounded you there. You are safe; at least that is what Geralt promised – and you are inclined to believe him. Still, you feel so incredibly useless lying here like this.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize once again, “I just… It’s the magic, and the walls. I don’t like walls.”

Geralt sits next to you on the bed, stroking your hair in the way that he’s quickly learned calms your nerves. Yet, right now, you feel quite awful about it. You hadn’t wanted Geralt to see you like this. You hadn’t wanted him to know about this part of you – the part of you that is sometimes so gripped with fear; irrational fear of people and places that were far away, separated from you by time and distance. The woods had been safe for so long – it’d been easy to hide it from him there. But now… Things are quite different.

“In Nilfgaard, there were nothing but walls,” the words spill from you lips. “Nothing but walls, and…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing very much that you hadn’t spoken at all. The images flashing through your mind are all ones you’d kept locked away under lock and key, not allowing yourself to think about them, not wanting to relive these moments.

“Whatever happened in Nilfgaard,” Geralt speaks softly, still stroking your hair, “I promise you that I will never let it happen again.”

His voice sounds far off one more, thanks to the pounding of blood in your ears and spiraling thoughts, but you reach out and cling to his arm, attempting to anchor yourself, though you can’t manage to force out the words.

You are not reading his thoughts, nor would you have the strength to if you even tried. But, if you had been, you would have heard several rather graphic thoughts about how he’d like to hack whoever had done this to you – whoever had made you so afraid when you were perfectly safe here with him – to unrecognizable pieces. You’d also see, quite clearly, that he’d use his silver sword while doing so. After all, silver is for monsters.

Tears start to slip from your eyes thanks to a mixture of frustration and fear, making your turn your head to half burry your face in the soft pillow. It was bad enough letting him see you upset, it was even worse letting him see you cry, especially considering the years separating you from the things that you were crying about.

“It was a long time ago,” you mutter, “I… I shouldn’t be upset about it after all this time.” Your attempts at rationalizing yourself only serve to make you more frustrated. You are ashamed. Ashamed for things you had no control over, ashamed for things you should have been able to prevent, ashamed for everything. And yet, Geralt was still here, stroking your hair gently, yellow golden eyes fixed on you, face contorted in concern. He hadn’t known – couldn’t have known – that being behind walls would trigger this; all the fear and all of the buried memories forcing their way to the surface.

“Monsters do monstrous things,” Geralt is still speaking softly, his warm baritone drawing your out of your own head. “It’s not easy to forget things like that,” he continues, letting his hand slip down to your back, rubbing gentle circles across your skin. He says it with such conviction that you believe him, and it slows the thoughts spinning through your head.

“They… they were monsters,” you mutter. “The things they did.” You shudder involuntarily at the memory. To this day, you cannot forgive Aretuza for sending you there. You remember how your heart had fallen to your stomach when you’d learned where you’d be sent. It was no secret the way that they treated their mages in Nilfgaard. You were there to carry out orders and to be a glorified plaything. It wasn’t what you’d dreamed of all those years, no doubt about it.

Geralt is silent for a moment, giving you a moment to continue. “It was easy to forget about out there away from everything… I didn’t think that it would be this bad. I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“Stop apologizing,” Geralt says, sounding stern for the first time, “Please, Y/N. It isn’t your fault.”

You don’t know why, but you find yourself sobbing at his words, a mixture of relief and anger. You’d spent so long pushing away the memories; so long telling yourself that it was all your fault.

“Listen, Huntress,” Geralt speaks again, “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

You continue to sob into the pillow as his palm rubs slow circles on your back. You don’t know what you did to deserve someone kind as the Witcher – someone that people described as a monster, but that had so little in common with the monsters you’ve encountered.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you slowly start to calm down.

“Thank you, Geralt,” you finally speak. “Just promise me, when we get to Ciri, you let me kill every one of those fuckers.”

Geralt smirks, leaning over to press a kiss to your hair. “I certainly won’t stop you, Huntress.”

For the first time since panic had overtaken you out in the garden, you smile.

A moment later, you hear the door open and the click of heels against the stone floors. You shift in bed so that you can look up to see Yennefer entering the room carrying a small saucer of steaming liquid, no doubt full of one of the calming elixirs you’d been taught to make at Aretuza.

You are about to open your mouth to apologize to her as well, but she speaks before you get the chance. “Drink this, sleep, and when you wake up, we’ll figure out a plan to get those pieces of shit.”

A knowing glance passes between the two of you, two sets of eyes flashing dangerously. “Sounds lovely,” you smirk. Perhaps revenge is petty, but you have to admit – it feels good to think about it. And, after all, a few casualties might be necessary to find Ciri.

***

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99, @pantrashtic, @lilred254, @cilorawr, @blackravena @keithseabrook27, @danielarlington, @jesseswartzwelder@fairytale07 @divaroze, @evyiione, @salmonbutter, @godsaverosemary, @dontforgetthepieh  @little-miss-emmalie, @hookahpop @haru-ririchiyo; @unnamedmaincharacter @geeksareunique​ @lazilyscentedwerewolf​  @boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey​ @alwayshave-faith​ @stretchkingblog97​ @alienemilyyyy​ @hufflepupperino​ @curlyhairedandconfused​ @nikolanna​ @divineslipcast @p3nny4urth0ught5  @seninjakitey @boogeywoogeywoogeywoogeywoogey​

[silver-wield]

Hey so I was wondering if you did/could do an analysis on clouds various panic attacks ptsd episodes and how he responds to each one I’m interested to read your thoughts on each one since you usually bring a new perspective to the table for me so thanks for that!

All of Cloud's ptsd attacks? Damn, that's a lot of searching I've got to do. I might not find them all. I'll do my best but you'll have to let me off if I miss a couple lol

Ok, spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be long.

Also, this is one person’s interpretation of the scene, so if you disagree that’s cool and we’ll agree to disagree.

You’re also gonna have to excuse the janky quality on some of the screens, I’m grabbing them from Youtube and it’s frustrating af trying to get the exact moment I want.

Please check my master post to see if I've already covered your question, thanx

Recap time!

I explain Cloud's entire backstory which covers his PTSD and other issues here, so that should do for a recap right?

A further thing to note is that PTSD affects people differently and in Cloud's case it manifests as a psychological taunt in the form of Sephiroth. Embodiying his sense of failure, lack of self-esteem and self-actualisation, this version of Sephiroth is the one that Cloud reacts to the most strongly. This is the one that makes him whimper with fear and react on instinct instead of observing the situation and attacking. This is the one he fears, and it's a part of himself wearing a monster's face. Why Sephiroth? Who else has done him more harm? Sephiroth killed his mother, Tifa (so he assumes), burned his hometown to the ground and was indirectly responsible for his best friend's death, too.

And Cloud couldn't do a thing about it. He is the manifestation of everything that Cloud hates and fears about himself. Because of this, he's dissociated from much of his feelings. He still feels, but at a lesser degree than he should were he fully in touch with his real self.

Moseying on.

The first PTSD induced attack isn't actually prompted by Sephiroth himself, although he does feature in it. Cloud's first attack happens when he sees the destruction of sector 8 and buildings burning. This gives him the association of the last time he saw a burning building, which happened when his village burned. The sensory input of sights, sounds and smells prompted the memory, which combined with the high stress situation and Cloud's own latent anxiety and guilt for his part in this chaos.

You see a close up of Cloud's eye as it widens and real!Cloud's memory pushes to the forefront of his mind – remember, these memories are things SOLDIER!Cloud can't access at will, which is why they cause him pain when it happens.

Theres a static noise in the background, which is meant to convey a type of ringing in Cloud's ears and then the building's facade morphs to that of his house with the fence around it.

While much of what Sephiroth says is in line with this being a separate being from Cloud and not merely his own subconscious taunting him, there are elements of it being a combination of both. This is in line with the OG where Sephiroth was able to get in Cloud's head and make him doubt his own sense of self. With what we know of how Jenova's cells manipulate Cloud, it's believable that Sephiroth is both a separate being manipulating Cloud to his own ends and partly an aspect of Cloud's psyche that exists to push blame on him for everything. It's the representation of his mental illness that he struggles to fight.

Obviously, there's no fire, so Cloud sweating and breathless is because they're physical symptoms of his PTSD induced trauma.

Sephiroth's taunting lines about how he killed Cloud's mother are overkill when you consider the real Sephiroth's personality. The combination of the overarching Sephiroth and Cloud's PTSD version make a powerful foe that he never really beats. This is a metaphor for the fact those with mental illness are never really free. It's a lifetime battle and even if they're in recovery, that demon is just waiting for one weak moment when they can get them back in their grip.

You can hear Cloud gasp in this scene as once again Sephiroth appears to taunt him. He's not fully recovered from the last attack and now there's another right on top of it. Sephiroth appearing is once again partly Cloud's own trauma and partly the Jenova cells in him warping his perception and allowing Sephiroth to mess with him.

Unlike the time before, this Sephiroth vision is a simple taunt that Cloud is too weak to save anyone. This is his guilt and self-loathing talking about how he couldn't save his mom, Tifa or his town. It could also be hinting that he couldn't save Zack either.

The hidden implication of this scene is the fact that Sephiroth puts his hand on Aerith's shoulder. This is the only time Sephiroth touches anyone besides Cloud.

The next time Cloud has an attack is during the reactor 5 mission. This happens because of Tifa's presence drawing out the painful memory of the Nibelheim reactor where he believed she died after facing down Sephiroth.

Even in the midst of his PTSD attack he looks to Tifa. She doesn't know what's happening with him and he backs away from taking a chance to confide in her, but even during this moment when he's showing weakness he has very good eye contact with her. He's looking her directly in the eye, which he wouldn't do if he wasn't comfortable with her. This shows that Cloud sees her as a source of comfort and support.

You can see the lingering doubt on his face here after he dismisses the attack. He's not aware of what the memory means because he's not in touch with the full story – that belongs to real!Cloud kept hidden away. He knows it's left him unsettled and feeling like a failure. This is one of the few times I've seen that Cloud doesn't dismiss out of hand the content of the attacks.

Tifa repeats a phrase she said back then and Cloud's sense of failure surfaces, causing him pain and to freeze up. We get a voice over from real!Cloud referring to the time he believes he let Tifa down. Before the SOLDIER persona can get too deep into it or question what he means, Barret yells for him to focus. Cloud shakes off the paralysing feelings, but that doesn't stop Tifa asking it he's ok, which he dismisses again. This is typical of truama survivors pushing their feelings down and attempting to function without ever truly dealing with the source of their pain.

This next flash is prompted by the events during chapter 8 where the children get into trouble and Cloud has to rescue them. It echoes a similar even in his past where Tifa climbed Mt Nibel and fell, despite his best efforts to save her. She spent a week in a coma and Cloud was blamed for the incident and told to stay away from her.

The past emotions of guilt and failure mingle with the present situation to prompt a flash of pain as the memory of Tifa surfaces. It's his feelings of guilt and having failed her that cause the pain, not Tifa herself because when he says to Aerith he doesn't know how to explain he turns to the spot where he saw the vision of Tifa and smiles wistfully. This means Tifa herself doesn't cause him pain. The feelings he has about himself, do.

Chapter 13 and omg I love this freak out! I'm sorry, but this is such a great moment for Cloud and really highlights how low he is at this point. This shows the depth that we miss from him always having his SOLDIER persona taking charge. He's just lived through a tragedy. He's seen the girl he likes in pieces and trying to hold it together. He wants to comfort her. He wants to be himself, but he can't because he's just not good enough. He's feeling like a failure in more ways than one. He lost people too, goddamnit!

Then, in a misguided attempt to distract Tifa from her pain, he stumbles right into a trigger point for his own trauma. Of course he wouldn't know this. It's one of those flashes of Sephiroth ranting about his role and Jenova and shit. (I might have mistakenly said this was a future-flash somewhere, but then I remembered he does this rant right before he kills everyone in Nibelheim).

There's very little blocking to the memory. This is pretty well sealed by real!Cloud compared to his other memories. Even painful ones of Tifa have more context than this. This is something that is so damaging to Cloud's psyche that he can't even fill in the space around it.

So, we get the same kind of staticky noise we heard in chapter 2 when the vision of Sephiroth showed. Cloud gasps pretty loud here tbf. He's unguarded because of the vision and possibly his own distraction about what he's just been through. He wasn't prepared to see Sephiroth here even more than he was back in chapter 2 when he had a full on panic attack.

I mean, his pupils are seriously dilated here. Boi is scared.

Cloud's whimpering and my heart breaks for him. Sephiroth is hitting all his weakest points by bringing up failure and mentioning it's not the first time that's happened. Cloud's at a low point already, so it's not unexpected he backs away from this rather than tries to fight. This isn't SOLDIER!Cloud. This is real!Cloud. The fear has driven real!Cloud to the surface and he wants to run away, just like Sephiroth taunted back in chapter 2.

“Through suffering you will grow strong. Isn't that what you want?”

Clearly not by the look on Cloud's face. The part of him that's real!Cloud within this moment looks like he wants to scream that he's had enough of being in pain. He wants to shake his head and deny that he deserves it. What did he ever do wrong?

I feel like this is more of Cloud's own subconscious taunting him and implying that he deserves everything bad that happens to him, rather than it being the external Sephiroth manipulating Jenova's cells. He's saying Cloud secretly wants to suffer because that's all he should ever get in life. He thinks if he suffers enough pain that he'll be stronger for it, instead of the broken person that he really is. This is the type of thing people who’ve lived through trauma deal with every single day. It’s a never ending barrage of not feeling good enough and worrying that your entire existence is a bother to society. Not even just those close to you, you are a blight on the world. That Cloud’s internal trauma is so deeply rooted in this figure of Sephiroth narrows his focus and makes him project all of his fears onto him. It’s no wonder he freezes.

Now, not strictly a PTSD glitch, but it does provoke a very strong reaction from Cloud, and definitely plays into his fears, so I'm gonna include this one on the proviso it's more fear motivated.

This is the moment he sees Tifa stabbed during the VR cut scene. Sephiroth hijacked it to show them meteor, but then he also killed Tifa and then Barret. We know later on that Barret actually dies, so having seen this, Cloud may well relate back to this deep seated fear that he can't save Tifa and she'll die because of him and it'll cause further attacks. This is also a callback to the time in the reactor in Nibelheim when Tifa was stabbed by Sephiroth and Cloud couldn't save her – this ties to the PTSD flashback he had during the reactor 5 mission where he saw Tifa picking up Sephiroth's sword, so it's got precedence to cause him further trauma once he connects the dots. The fact it provokes such a strong emotional response from him – so much so that his entire face changes – I suspect that real!Cloud came out to motivate him to run to her out of the fear he'd just seen her die in front of him – again. The shock and disbelief on his face, the utter heartbreak. His expression changes from SOLDIER!Cloud to real!Cloud in less than 3 seconds. I checked. As a trigger for his trauma, Cloud's fear of losing Tifa pushes him to a lot of things he wouldn't normally do.

This is more of a memory glitch than PTSD since it's tied to the grunt recognising Cloud and calling him out on the false memories he has of being a SOLDIER. He says they went through training together and Cloud's eyes narrow as though he's trying to reconcile a truth against a lie. The truth that real!Cloud was a grunt and SOLDIER!Cloud is a fake.

There's some distress on his face here that links back to the point during the airbuster battle when he first learned about cell degradation. He knows what he believes is true isn't quite right, but he can't figure out why. SOLDIER!Cloud is unaware of the SOLDIER persona he constructed to protect his real self from further trauma. In OG when Cloud finds out – through Sephiroth’s skewed af bullshit – it causes a complete mental break, so real!Cloud's right to be wary of triggering himself because he's not in a good enough place to deal with what he's done to protect himself. He'd blame himself for being even more weak than he thought.

This is more interesting. Usually whenever anyone questions Cloud about his false identity he claims it, while also rejecting it by saying “ex-SOLDIER”, but in Hojo's case, he seems to hesitate, as though part of him knew it would be questioned and wouldn't hold up. Since Hojo's the one who did this to Cloud, it's likely the truth of what happened couldn't be kept back by the SOLDIER lies.

Pained again, Cloud turns his head away, as though he can shut out the truth. Hojo's image glitches for him and it's reminiscent of the OG moment where Cloud confronts Hojo and asks if he can be a proper experiment instead of a failed one (or something like that. I haven't played OG in like 5 years)

The trauma from what Hojo's done is quickly brushed under the carpet thanks to the arrival of the whispers. This is the second time they appear to prevent Cloud learning too much about his past too early. (Dammit, I forgot about deep ground, I'll circle back to it or I'll lose the order for my screenshots)

I'm not including the long corridor walk prompted by Jenova because that's a loading screen and also it happens not because of anything that Cloud experienced in the location, but because the outside influence of Jenova called to him. His only association with Jenova is the infusion of cells, though how he got them does set off attacks. Actually, here's a good point for the deep ground screen.

Preview of zombie Cloud for Mideel anyone? I mean, what can I say? He's totally checked out and it's scary. No wonder he doesn't wanna remember any of it if this is what he was like at the time. Imagine being so doped up with mako that you're not even you any longer? Having experiments carried out on you and god knows what else. Being stuffed in a chamber jammed full of alien dna and left to see what happens.

This is what broke him. I'd say it's similar to the faceless Squall cut scene from the end of FF8. It's chilling. No wonder he crafted an entire persona to protect himself from remembering this.

So this is the culmination of all the other attacks he's had. We get flashback elements from several that threaten to overwhelm Cloud. He's clutching his head. He's in serious pain and can't do anything. He manages to push through and ask if it's really Sephiroth. He then grabs his left arm when it begins to hurt. This is because Sephiroth is left handed. This is also the same arm that had the major infection of geostigma in AC.

Conclusion

Cloud is a messed by puppy and I ship him with therapy.

PTSD is a tricky thing to accurately show, especially in this case when it's not all totally mental illness and there are outside factors that skew how it's portrayed. Part of Sephiroth is within Cloud, though I do suspect it's more of an aspect of his own feelings of self-loating and doubt than it is actually Sephiroth. That's not to say there isn't also a genuine part of Sephiroth within these visions influencing Cloud to do what he wants, but I think it comes down to the context of the moment.

Cloud's been through a lot of shit and fronts like nothing else. He's managed to get away without any kind of vices or coping mechanisms besides this alternate persona that actually does ok in following the real!Cloud's lead when his deeper urges motivate SOLDIER!Cloud into doing things. I mean there's a point where there's a clear debate between the two about dancing for Andrea. All that back and forth eye movement and then the grimace and “fine, for Tifa” expression wasn't necessary if it was just SOLDIER!Cloud.

It's gonna be hard for Cloud to hear that he's not real in the sense that he thinks he is. It's gonna break him. We've got a preview of his scary vacant Mideel look and it's terrifying. Major props to Tifa for refusing to give up on him.

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Unnerving Stillness

I’m not really sure what to say other than here is Part 7 of  ‘Retrograde Spell’ The back half of this just sort of happened...so yea...it’s excessively angsty and there are tons of triggers here i’m sure. For your own safety and reading experience please be advised of the following WARNING: Gore -Graphic Content in the form of Violence, Serious bodily harm occurs below, elements of horror included, a handful of characters have more than a rough time. I am placing this under the cut (except probably not because tumblr never listens to me) Feel free to check out the Master List for my other things here. The rest of this series can be searched under the tag ‘Retrograde Spell Series’. For those who continue I hope you enjoy :)

Admin T~

Tagging @little-mini-me-world

[Yn]

You arrived at the field set as the meeting point the exact same moment your sister did. Kanna jumped off her horse and the two of you tied the reins to your tachi then secured it deep into the earth.

“You’re certain Sasuke knows how to activate this barrier?”

“I have no doubt. I trust him like I trust you.”

“That’s all I needed to know.”

“Awfully careful when it comes to these boys aren’t we sis?”

“What of it.” You knew she was trying to ruffle your feathers, make the mood more casual before it got potentially deadly.

“Nothing.” A soft smile “let me see your stomach.”

“It’s no big deal” lifting your shirt high enough so Kanna could take a look “You’re right.” Her fist connected with your side, knocking the wind out of you.

“What the hell was that for?” you screeched, doubling over.

“For making me worry. Now, what way do you want to go? East or West?”

You had gone off to the west and were waiting, hoping the sky didn’t open up. You and Kanna had synced watches and had a general idea of when everyone should be arriving, which was anytime now, hopefully. Now you just needed to kill time, hopefully this was all for nothing.

You were squatting low, plucking at the single blades of grass when the air grew thick with the smell of electricity. A portal would open. Damn. That’s bad, very bad. Drawing your blade as space time ripped a hole in the sky you took off into the newly developing fray.

You were swinging like mad...because you were mad. There was a spy, someone was using you to fulfill their own needs and that sat terribly with you, lodging itself deep in your stomach. You didn’t stop, blowing through your opponents one by one as you got closer and closer to the group. The outline of the barrier could be seen peeking over the hillside and your body was buzzing, Kanna was close. Increasing your speed and the strength of your swing you pushed forward.

The two of you made eye contact and after two steps broke into a sprint towards the barrier, where a particularly large creature was trying to chip away at the protective bubble surrounding your friends. There was no hesitation, gripping your hilt you swung forward pushing all of your weight and momentum into the swing meeting with Kanna. Your blades crossed in dramatic fashion gliding effortlessly past the other as you halved the creature. Bursting into a fit of smoke, while always intriguing you didn’t have time to stand around and look. Spinning so you were back to back, you continued on.

The fight only last a few minutes once you joined with Kanna. You knew by the quick glance you had taken of the warlords that you looked as lethal as you felt. There were no words, a silent dance, one you and your sister had memorized to the height of its efficiency.  The last enemy met your sword, disappearing in a violent eruption of smoke. This was a problem, a very big problem.

[Mitsunari]

We rode back to Azuchi in tense silence, it was clear this was a serious situation. They looked ever the leaders they had claimed to be, sitting proudly atop their steeds clad in dark armor. The atmosphere was unsettling, mild uncomfortableness creeping in, their mannerisms so far removed from the daily personality we, moreover I, had gotten to know at the castle. Not that I minded. (YN) lead our caravan back towards Azuchi, while her sister took the rear, sure that with all of the attacks as of late it was mostly precautionary, until Kanna bellowed.

“Your seven!”

In an instant, (YN) pivoted her horse positioning herself directly between an assailant and Nobunaga. Sparks flew from the clash of steel, the blow was powerful enough to knock her back out of her saddle, in the moment it took to reset it’s swing, Kanna rushed the creature knocking it’s head clear off it’s shoulders. I hurried over out of concern and was stopped by a sharp look, and a motion I recognized quite well, though usually it came from Hideyoshi, telling me to pause take stock of the situation. I looked up.

Our company had been surrounded by a handful of hoodlums. When had that happened, looking towards the sky I could make out the faintest of purple vortexes closing. This was an ambush. The twins circled us, tightening our ranks, fighting off what they could until (YN) threw up another barrier and took off running in the direction of a  now opened orange and black portal in the sky. Four steps and she was gone, jumping up dissolving into the sky. As if trading places, Yuuto was dumped out in her stead. Clothes a mess, blood running down his arms and face, panic etched in his features.

Breaking into the bubble he pulled his sister with him.

“We were ambushed…(YN) responded to a mayday call. I don’t-” he swallowed hard “I don’t know if everyone’s going to make it.” He shared a look with his sister before planting himself in the grass and in a motion that looked similar to throwing, he moved a screen into view on the barrier wall. 

“It’s a live feed, I use it to monitor all of our officers while they fight. I’m not there but I should be able to tell how it’s going based off of everyone’s vitals.” He explained, finishing by pointing out his Aunt Yui and Aoi, His father Haruto, and (YN) on the different screens, helping us differentiate them from the first through  fourth units. Adjusting the controls on his wrist voices could now be heard crystal clear within the bubble.

The distinct sound of battle echoed off the malleable walls of the barrier, you could hear shouts ringing out from each of the officers, all commands to update positions and re-work the battle formations. I closed my eyes, attempting to envision their positions based on the descriptions alone, trying to calm my mind, wishing I wasn’t just a bystander in all of this. Calculation after calculation to help perceive (YN)’s position, it all seemed alright and they sounded like they had made strides when a sharp cry rang out.

“HARUTO” “DAD” an unknown female and (YN) screamed simultaneously.

There was audible turmoil and his screen flashed, the lines jumping rapidly before it flat-lined and went black. Next to Yukimura, Kanna whimpered as Yuuto gripped the edge of his shirt harder. As his knuckles turned white another shrill cry ripped through the bubble as Aoi’s monitor shuddered and went black. Tears were now visible, welling in Kanna’s eyes, as Yukimura gripped her hard around the waist trying to offer some semblance of comfort. There was a grunt in a familiar voice...and breathing became haggard. My heart rate picked up matching the monitor on (YN). As it seemed to be losing control the familiar orange glow lit up the sky and a several bodies tumbled out of the sky, landing hard in the grass. Shutting with a powerful gust of wind that ravaged the treeline in the immediate area as all the monitors on the screen went black, all but Yui’s and the third and fourth regiments.

[Yukimura]

Kanna grew visibly more distressed by the minute as more and more screen blinked out into oblivion. She jerked in my arms as the bodies tumbled from the sky and a wail ripped through her chest, collapsing against me as everything went black but the screen for Yui. No...that couldn’t be good, I know Yuuto said people wouldn’t make it, it was par for the course when it came to war...but could they have been completely obliterated like that? (YN) had just been standing here minutes ago, participating in one of the most lethal of dances I had ever seen. Would they have succeeded if Kanna had gone or would she have succumbed to the same fate?

“Yuuto…” her voice quivered “someone has to go get them”

He gave a half-hearten nod, but something didn’t feel right. Everyone was on edge, and as he made to break through to collect his Aunt and fellow soldiers, Mitsunari stopped him.

“I wouldn’t.” bewilderment swirled about the enclosed space as he looked right at Kanna, the pain of potential loss clear in his eyes.

“Something isn’t adding up. I ran countless scenarios and only one resulted in the loss of (YN). All of which meant the demise of all others in the area, that includes Yui and your ranking officers.”

“Mitsunari, man, I know it hurts, and you’re scenarios are good in theory but in practice life is way more messy. You have no idea what went wrong up there. We can’t just let them lay half mangled in the field surrounded by enemies.” Masamune made a valid point

“No. he’s right.” red streaks prominent on Kanna’s face. Pain shot through my chest as I looked at her. “Something doesn’t fit. Why would everyone else go black at the same time, and why haven’t they started attacking? Also, (YN)’s barrier is still up. There’s no way that would be possible if she was dead right?” she looked at Yuuto for clarification “Right?”

“She put this up?” His eyes widened “Mitsunari. You may be on to something.”

“I think if we plan to go get them, we should be cautious. Did you ever figure out who the spy was?”

“I had it narrowed down...but all signs are pointing in one direction and that..doesn’t look good.” Gesturing to the members of the third and fourth regimen standing backs towards one another, circling Yui menacingly while keeping an eye on the growing army of QA soldiers.

That’s right, there was a spy wasn’t there. It’s why this entire meeting had happened like this in the first place. Giving Kanna a quick peck on the cheek, tasting the salt from her tears, she leaned into me before stepping forward towards Yuuto.

“I’ve got a plan.”

[YN]

You never got calls to your personal line. Ever. But in the moment the monster had been beheaded you received two, one from your Aunt Yui requesting back up and another from your Aunt Aoi pleading with you to keep you and your sister away. Something was wrong, you knew it was impulsive, but Yui had always been the planner, assuming your aunt’s pride as you mentor was getting in the way you sprinted off to respond to the may-day call. As it stood Yui’s order came first, and she had more authority over you than Aoi as the armies tactician. 

The familiar rush of traveling through time hit you and you were spit out to your home on fire, every person embroiled in battle with the Q.A. Oh gods. Mizuko came running up to you, a wild rush of blonde hair and green eyes.

“What are you doing here? Aoi-sama explicitly stated she didn’t want you to come.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as you broke out into a nervous sweat, “Yui-sama called me, her orders for a may-day override Aoi’s”

“What?” her eye’s went as wide as saucers as she parried a blow from an encroaching QA soldier. Lifting her wrist to her mouth she spoke “Aoi-sama, it would appear that Yui is the traitor.”

You blood ran like ice in your veins. There was no way, but logically it made sense, she had known all your plans, every position, exactly how many soldiers you had at your disposal and where they were being sent. The only real question that remained unansered was why? Why had she done it?

“(YN) is here, she got a private mayday from Yui, after your call went out.” a pause “I understand” turning to me as she lowered her arm, eyes burning like the fire raging behind us. “Aoi has given you command of the second regiment as well. Yoshiyuki is headed our way. We randevu with the rest of the team to circle back and hold the line.”

You met up off in the forest just beyond the citadel walls, everyone gathered up. At your disposal you had four archers Hisame and Mari from the first regiment who would pair up with Koharu and Yumi from the second to give ground coverage from different vantage points throughout the citadel. Always making sure Aoi, Haruto, and yourself were in someone's sight. Four tachi, Tsubaki and Shiro from the first and Ohta and Tora from the second would be heading off with the Naginata wielders Hinata and Tatsuya; the first regiment going north and the second going west to hold the line. Mizuko your general and Yoshiyuki the leader of the second division would be coming with you entering through the middle of the fight to subdue Yui and the QA.

--

If you weren’t sure Yui was the traitor you were now. She stood on the crushed monument to the previous clan leaders, shouting orders to the QA, as she rushed forward. In the blink of an eye she had a sword through the stomach of your father. You couldn’t control it, your scream ricocheted off the tattered building in front of you. She smirked, as he fell from her blade with a sickening thud. Aoi looked up, eyes pleading with you as she engaged her own sister. You advanced in a blind white rage the only things holding you to reality was the swift metallic clang of Mizuko’s blade in tandem with your own and Yosiyuki’s revolver firing off at the enemy between deep swings of his uchigatana.

Everything was a cluster of noise and chaos, people were everywhere, fighting, running, hiding, the citadel was aflame, and now both your father and your Aunt Aoi were mortally wounded, lying side by side near the port crystal at your aunt Yui’s feet. You knew, instinctively, your father had passed already, the one sparring thing your traitorous aunt had done was grant him a swift passing, but Aoi lay in the dirt and blood groaning and gasping for air.

“Yoshiyuki, cover Aoi. Mizuko go find Ryoko and bring her here…I’ll take care of Yui.”

“But…”

“That’s an order” and they were off.

There were no words to be had, you collected your thoughts, centering yourself. No battle could be won off adrenaline alone, and you knew that. She smirked as she turned from her sister “I’m so glad you could make it to the party dearest niece. Shall I send you off the same way I did your loving father and teacher?”

Be calm. Stay calm. She was trying to goad you, she had a sharp tongue, and every mock battle with your sister had prepared you for something like this. You ignored her, as you both danced a dangerous dance. Sparks flying where steel met, you had to be guarded, pace this out, otherwise she could, and would take you. You were wearing her down, making headway, or so you thought, as if struck by lightning a searing heat ripped through your left arm. You followed her blade with your eyes noticing that it had pierced clean through your shoulder, she changed her grip and striking true once more pulled up cleaving your arm from its socket. You took two more swings, filled with the rest of your will, landing a glancing blow across her face, nothing deadly, but it would scar, a permanent reminder of what she had done today. The world around you tunneled, you heard a menacing laugh, and several shouts, many of which were your name. Your weight shifted and you fell to the ground, landing hard in the dirt just beyond your already fallen family members.

The ringing was getting louder and the deep black abyss you had been slowly growing comfortable with began to glow white. As it did you felt your sides prickle and you found yourself nauseous as you were rolled over, now looking at Mizuko and Yoshiyuki, no longer able to make out what they were saying. They looked worried. I wished the didn’t, I wanted to tell them that I felt wonderful. That there wasn’t anymore pain, that it was going to be okay. As I felt myself slipping I thought of my brother and sister stuck completely unaware of what had just transpired and I thought of Mitsunari, his sweet smile, his clumsy nature, his warmth - oh how I wanted to feel that warmth. My eyes burned as they closed. I’m sorry. Everyone I’m so sorry.

[acevillainswhodunnit]

Introduction, Part 2

The words of John Doe are as loud as a gunshot and just as quick.

DARYAN CRESCEND knew all about quick, ruthless murders. He’s spent years hunting down criminals and standing face to face with death, always living on the edge. Even when the gun was in his own hand, he could remember the adrenaline and fear that ran through him after he had pulled the trigger. There was something about staring face to face with a corpse that made one really think about how fragile life was and how permanent death could be.  

Whatever scene Daryan had been thrown into now could only be defined as messy. It was an understatement of course. Daryan, before his incarceration, had been in the midst of disaster, as part of his past profession as a detective. He had an eye and ear for danger, and a mouth that always got him into trouble.

As furious as he is, slowly Daryan’s anger sobers him. His eyes are no longer hazy and his breaths no longer come out in shaky gasps. As quickly as his mind wraps around the fact that he is in immediate danger, his senses go haywire.

With a quick scan around the room, which the map lists as the foyer, Daryan counts twelve people, thirteen including himself. What came as a bigger shock than the fact that there was a dead body hanging two feet from off the floor was the fact that the other guests were in collapsed states much like Daryan himself, and that they have recognizable faces. More unsettling, it seems their prison garbs have been changed back into their normal attire.

Daryan didn't appreciate being dressed without his consent, and he clenched his fists as he turned back to the man who had spoken earlier.

“Don’t look too alarmed, I am sure there are none here who are unsettled by death, for it will be a constant companion while in this estate. I, too, will be a constant presence here.” John Doe lifts his hands slightly, making a show out of all of this. “You might find this a tad rushed, but there is a method to this madness, and the thrill of a mystery has quite the appeal, especially when the next to die could be any single one of you....”

A man with tanned skin seethes against the wall, his nostrils flaring. Daryan recognizes him easily. FURIO TIGRE lives up to his name, his entire demeanor one of disbelief and absolute wrath. It was why he was one of the most dangerous convicts inside of state prison, having caused fights and riots on the daily, back when Daryan was just a greenhorn.

To Daryan’s right another man stands, if only to make a show of his own build. If Daryan’s mouth wasn’t so dry he may have choked on his spit at seeing REDD WHITE, a criminal blackmailer with a violent streak appear among the crowd. Redd was quick to open his mouth to make a comment, as men his type are prone to do, only for the ominous figure to halt him.

“I must ask you to refrain from asking any questions. I wouldn’t want you to start this little game without knowing the rules first.” Doe’s mechanical voice screeches, “that would be cheating, and cheaters will meet a fitting end.”

A tall, lanky fellow known as LUKE ATMEY jumps to his feet as well, stroking his chin as he wildly observes the scene. Daryan knew the freelance Ace Detective only by headings in old newspapers. The man had been a case study back in the day when Daryan was on the force. What a pompous, over confident man.

Suddenly, he catches sight of the woman sitting directly in front John Doe. Her back is turned towards John as if his narrative was one that she had heard a dozen of times before. DEE VASQUEZ, who Daryan realizes is the mob related ex-producer of children’s fighting shows, has little interest in this conversation, and rather is watching the others in the room.

“I will make it very clear to all of you that this has been a game set up by one of your peers, for reasons that may or may not interest you. I, your humble guide, will provide you with the tools you need to survive to the end, and it will be under your own volition to do so.” John becomes far more serious, losing his jovial tone.

Two women sitting side by side, a duo Daryan recognizes as MORGAN FEY and MIMI MINEY, appear to be casually immersed in Doe’s grandiose ramblings, perhaps a front to cover their true emotions. Morgan has a faint sneer on her face, a wrinkle on her forehead growing deeper with every one of John’s pointed statements. Even her hand covering her mouth does little to hide her disdain. Mimi, with her expression hidden by her hat, seems to share a similar mindset, her jaw tensed up as she grits her teeth.

The tension in the air is as heavy as the severity of Doe’s tone.

“There will be laws here, and to those who chose to take them with a grain of salt, I will make this game a living hell for you. Heed my warnings, I do not wish to repeat myself.” Doe takes a step forward, his body now hidden in the shadow of the statue. “You will be guests in this two floor estate. You will be able to venture into any room before nightfall. You are prohibited from harming one another. And of course, you are prohibited from leaving.”

A prim and proper looking woman, one who instantly grates on Daryan’s nerves for her holier than thou attitude, huffs in indignation. ALITA TIALA was clearly not amused at the curfew or the restrictions. She digs her nails into her palm, her eyes darting from one face to another.

Doe’s shoe squeaks against tile as he shifts his weight, “Don’t look so alarmed, this is supposed to be a challenge after all. That is why we have placed such precautions. To succeed at these cases, you will be forbidden to share images, especially those found in any of your private conversations. It has been pre-decided that only one of the twelve who stands before me will make it to the end of this game, and the prize? Well, of course there would need to be a prize for something as extravagant as this. I will elaborate about that later on, of course. It would be too easy to give you everything now.”

Daryan can feel his face grow warm with anger as Doe’s bullshit fills the air. He recognizes YANNI YOGI and LANA SKYE, who are both in the middle of the room. Lana seems disturbed at the realization that eleven people could be murdered right before her eyes, while Yanni was asleep quite casually on the ground. Daryan was disgusted by Yanni’s lack of regard for their current predicament, but could tell that the light drumming of his fingers against his thigh meant that Yanni was awake and following the conversations, despite not wanting to be part of it.

“In regards to investigating, clues will be given to each remaining guest, and you may decide amongst yourselves who you will trust, and who you will betray. We do encourage you to share your clues; it is ideal to keep your friends close and your enemies closer, especially with you lot.”

A young woman Daryan recognizes from the few newspapers he was able to get his hands on in prison lets out a yawn at the explanation, which irks their so-called host. CAMMY MEELE crosses her arms and rests against the wall, apparently taking a page from Yanni Yogi and sleep off the events of today away.

Unfortunately, Doe has other plans.

“Those who do not follow house rules will be punished accordingly, so be very careful about whose trust you decide to abuse. They may carry a grudge…”

MATT ENGARDE, ex pretty boy superstar, suddenly gasps as he sinks against the wall, his mouth gaping open in fear as John Doe finally appears in the center of the room. There is a moment of silence as several other people do the same, the man’s identity now clear.

“Some of you may know me from the past,  but for now consider me as simply your humble servant… and also your host. I will now allow you the privilege of investigation. Discuss among yourselves who will have the pleasure of examining the body in a makeshift morgue, who will prefer to visit the last known whereabouts of the victim, and who will stay here in the foyer to examine this charming crime scene of ours. Four spots are allotted to each location, so think carefully and contact me when you are ready. Until then, I will patiently await your decision.”

Shelly de Killer smiles, and leaves the choice hanging in the air.

All eyes return to the dead body as night one officially begins. 

[audreycritter]

Color Spectrum

For @jerseydevious​ Chapter 1 of 5 Bruce Wayne & Clark Kent Gen/Friendship AO3 Link Red

The day had been a long and frustrating one but that was hardly going to stop Bruce from going out on patrol. In fact, patrol was usually his preferred method of dealing with long and frustrating days. It was a more direct way of feeling like it mattered, doing something that wasn’t about him.

He was already in the cape and suit, cowl hanging back, going over routes and recent crime reports on the computer to plot out the route that needed the most attention in the absence of specific emergency.

There was a rush of chilled cave air and he knew before he turned that Superman would be there. He glanced at the section of screen on the second monitor that managed the alert system for the Watchtower, confident he hadn’t missed any attempts at contact.

And then he waited, another moment.

Superman didn’t start talking. That was unusual and meant that he was angry or that something else was wrong.

“Superman,” Bruce acknowledged.

Still silence.

Finally, he swiveled in the seat, mostly expecting an angry scowl. If his guess wasn’t wrong, Clark would yell about the same second he turned so he would spin to face Clark shouting.

But instead of a face twisted with barely restrained fury while he floated a few feet off the ground, Bruce found himself staring at Superman firmly grounded with an openly anxious expression. Worry bloomed in his chest, pricking like creeping thorns, but he kept his voice level just at the same time Clark registered his direct attention and tried-- and failed-- to adopt a more neutral look.

“Hey,” Clark said, his voice slightly strained. “Hi.”

“What happened?” Bruce asked bluntly. There was no point in putting off direct inquiry if Clark was that visibly distraught.

“Uh.” Clark’s eyes darted sideways and he chewed on his lip. “Nothing. Just. It’s stupid. Can…uh.”

“Out with it, Clark,” Bruce ordered, turning to the computer. He pulled up Metropolis newsfeeds. If Clark wasn’t going to just tell him, he’d start hunting anyway. Even before Clark approached the desk, he suspected some sort of compromising magic, and that meant villain, not criminal.

“Can I, uh, keep you company? For a bit?”

Unless he knew what was going on, he wasn’t going out on patrol with an unstable superpowered alien, so Bruce bit back a sigh and nodded. “Yes.”

“Oh, good,” Clark said, exhaling in a rush. “Thanks.”

He sat down in the other chair near the computer and hummed quietly while Bruce scrolled Metropolis and Gotham police scanner feeds. The humming quickly turned nervous, a sort of agitated noise that cut off abruptly and Bruce checked out of the corner of his eye. Clark had both hands clamped on his own knees.

“I’m okay,” Clark said, his voice far more tense than anyone who was okay had ever sounded. “Just a run in with, um, some kryptonite. Red. Red kryptonite.”

Now that was surprising. Bruce stopped typing and faced him directly. “Where?”

“Doesn’t matter. Took care of it,” Clark said with a shrug. “Don’t wanna go home yet. Can I…no. It’s stupid. Never mind.”

“What?” Bruce frowned at him and then pulled up red kryptonite in his database, to confirm his memory. Mood swings and mutations. He briefly considered pulling up the cowl, but Clark already seemed so unsettled that he wasn’t sure what even that defensive motion would trigger. “Do I need to contain you somewhere? For safety?”

“CanIholdyourhand.” Clark said in a rush, head tilted toward the floor.

”What.” Bruce, through sheer force of will, kept himself from fully facing Clark with a raised eyebrow. Carefully controlling his own reactions was one of the best ways to keep from spurring a sudden mood change in Clark, and he realized in that instant why Clark was there instead of the Tower or back at home with Lois.

“CanIholdyourhand.” Clark mumbled this time, his whole face flushed red even in the reflection on the darkened monitor just to the left of Bruce.

Bruce had armored gauntlets he could pull on, sitting right there next to him and waiting for him to go out, but even those would do little good if Clark in a moment of distraction or sudden anger decided to crush his bones to pulp.

“No,” he said.

“Okay,” Clark said quietly. “It’s okay. I’m just…I think I might…it’s stupid.”

“What.”

“I think I might die.”

“You aren’t going to die, Kal. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling me.”

Soft wasn’t something Bruce did easily but even he wasn’t a completely heartless monster. It was easy to sound gentle and reassuring in the face of that kind of fear, especially if it was unfounded.

“Just feels like it,” Clark insisted, a little sourly. He fell silent and Bruce went back to working on the computer. If the best thing right now was actually just letting Clark keep him company while things wore off, then he could get some work done and not inspire some sudden rage in Clark at busy activity. There was a tiny part of Bruce that was fighting genuine fear at the bare truth, that if Clark really did swing rapidly to destruction there was little he could do to stop him for very long.

Only five minutes had passed before a rattling noise grew up rapid pitch next to him and he looked to see Clark, his cape drawn around his shoulders, shaking so hard in the chair that the screws around the locked casters underneath were starting to come loose.

“Clark,” Bruce said, bracing himself. They’d faced all kinds of evil together and he didn’t think he’d ever seen Clark this visibly frightened and if that’s how bad he was doing, then he could risk his hand. He held his hand out beside him and the shaking subsided almost as soon as Clark grabbed it. To his credit, it was a reasonable grip.

He began reviewing security footage from an older case and Clark edged his chair a bit closer.

Then closer again.

“What, exactly, are you feeling?” Bruce asked, deciding this was something worth clarifying.

“Eh,” Clark said, noncommittally.

“That is not a feeling,” Bruce replied. He was probably doing a terrible job of attempting to lighten the mood or alleviate stress. He sort of wished Dick was there; Dick was better at this sort of thing. But Clark already seemed embarrassed enough and it would mean putting Dick in potential danger, so Bruce decided against it.

“…clingy?” Clark guessed. Bruce could see him biting his lip in the monitor reflection.

“Hn,” Bruce said, managing to feel surprised and unsurprised at the same time. He was typing one-handed and the grip on his other hand tightened incrementally. “Kal.” The grip loosened just a little.

“Sorry.”

“Hn.”

The monitor showed a four-way split of security camera recordings, all playing at once. They watched for a few minutes and Bruce thought about offering to go upstairs, instead, but the cave really was better equipped to handle large-scale fighting or destruction if it came to that.

Over to the right, the elevator door opened and Alfred stepped out with a basket of clean towels, likely to restock the shower room behind the practice mats. He stopped for the smallest of double-takes, looking over Bruce working at the computer and Clark sitting nearby and still clutching his hand.

“Might I get either of you gentlemen a drink?” Alfred offered, as if there was nothing unusual about this sight.

“I’m fine,” Bruce said.

Clark shook his head.

“Very well,” Alfred said with a nod, and he went on his way. A few moments later, he was heading back upstairs.

The security feed was still running. Bruce rewound and studied a section by leaning forward. When he settled back into his seat, there was motion to his side and Clark moved closer. Their chairs were almost touching now.

In the next breath, Clark leaned his head on Bruce’s shoulder.

“Clark.” Bruce said.

“Sorry,” Clark said, but he didn’t move. Bruce sighed then, long and drawn out and distracted from the danger by the weight on his shoulder that he instinctively wanted to shake off. He held himself absolutely still and Clark sniffled. “I’m sorry. I feel really weird. I should go. I should…”

He trailed off and Bruce ducked his shoulder away, his mind made up, and stood. Clark sat back with an openly wounded drop of his mouth that he seemed to be attempting to get under control.

“Stand up,” Bruce ordered.

Clark stood, facing him.

Bruce pulled him into a hug and Clark, granite-solid alien strength notwithstanding, fairly melted and let out a long, relieved breath.

“This is a special exception,” Bruce warned him, when Clark’s arms showed no sign of slackening their hold anytime soon. “And it’s over. Right now.”

“One more minute,” Clark protested. “You give really good hugs. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“I have been informed.”

“Like, really good hugs. This is helping. A lot.”

“You’re saying I’m stuck here.”

“Just a minute,” Clark insisted.

Bruce responded by gently squeezing again. Maybe an increased level of physical affection on top of the offered hug would speed things up. It wasn’t that he didn’t like hugs exactly, but that he had a special category of occasions in which they felt acceptable or wanted and this wasn’t necessarily one of them.

But then, if it was keeping Clark from shaking furniture to pieces or razing buildings with his heat vision or even just feeling like absolute shit, he could handle it for another moment. Another minute max.

“Clark,” Bruce said, when at least seventy seconds had passed. “I have work to do.”

It wasn’t technically true.

“Sorry,” Clark said, without releasing him.

“Kal.”

“I said sorry,” Clark said, with a slight whine. “It’s not like I like it either.”

Bruce didn’t sigh this time, even if he wanted to, and he awkwardly patted Clark’s back. It would have felt and been less awkward if Clark had been a child. What would Dick do in this situation? Maybe make a joke. Maybe that would help. Bruce couldn’t think of anything.

“I mean. It’s a good hug. It’s a really good hug,” Clark said. “I mean, I don’t like feeling this way. It’s awful.”

“Do you still feel like you’re going to die?” Bruce asked quietly, giving up on trying to think of any humorous quip to alleviate things. It would probably backfire anyway.

“A little,” Clark said. “But a little less.”

Bruce cast a regretful glance at the computer and then reached one arm out to freeze and close the security footage he’d been trying to review. “Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “Alfred will make tea.”

“Okay,” Clark said, pulling back. He was staring at his red boots now, while Bruce unhooked his black cape from his own shoulders. “Thanks. I mean. Yeah, thanks. It’s helping.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce said. For all his uneasiness, he really did wish he could just fix it somehow, and it was more for seeing how miserable Clark was than his own discomfort. “We’ll…” he swallowed his distaste at the phrase, “…hang out.”

“That sounds nice,” Clark said, giving him a small grin.

“And tomorrow, none of this ever happened,” Bruce warned. Clark’s relief was evident and he nodded quickly. Bruce doubted that he’d want to remember it any more than Bruce himself would.

“Is there something wrong with us?” Clark asked, when Bruce moved toward the locker where he’d kept day clothes to wear upstairs. He was sounded less unstable which was a good sign. “I mean, hanging out is what friends do. It shouldn’t be such a big deal.”

Bruce froze, one hand on the locker.

“I guess not,” he admitted. When was the last time he had just hung out with someone who wasn’t part of his own weird little family? He and Clark did things together but it wasn’t exactly traditional friendship material.

“Maybe,” Clark was wringing his cape in his hands now, absently, like he wasn’t aware he was doing it. “Maybe we can do it again sometime, when I don’t feel…like this.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said quietly. “Let’s see if we survive this time first.”

Clark laughed. It was shaky but it was a laugh, at least. Bruce smiled while pulling the armor over his head and felt a note of triumph. Clark trailed after him to the elevator and while he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, while the elevator descended from the Manor level.

“So. A movie? We could cuddle.”

Bruce whipped his head around so fast that Clark laughed again and Bruce glared when he realized Clark had been joking.

“That isn’t funny, Kal.”

“Yes, it was,” Clark insisted, sounding more like himself by the second. His expression grew serious and he had that intense, earnest look in his eye that made Bruce want to squirm. He’d never mentioned it, but it felt a little bit like Diana’s lasso. “Thank you. Really.”

“Hn,” Bruce said gruffly. He paused and the elevator doors slid open. “You’re welcome.”

“You really do give good hugs,” Clark said, stepping on with him. His feet weren’t quite touching the floor which, kryptonite- and mood-wise was a good sign. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“Just saying,” Clark said. “Maybe once a year. For special occasions. It’d be good for you.”

“Kal,” Bruce said. The elevator was rising and it caught Clark’s hovering feet on the way up.

“Christmas, maybe,” Clark went on. “Or maybe a birthday?”

Bruce closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. At least Clark was feeling better. At least he’d kept a city from being destroyed, or even the cave. At least.

“I’ll figure it out. You can put it on your calendar so you have time to prepare.”

“Clark,” Bruce said. “Don’t make me throw you out.”

Clark grinned and Bruce didn’t mind it, really, not if he was being honest.

[nelrunari]

❖ And the Dream calls: Alina “A”.

Character Name: “A” Alina

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 26

Trigger Warnings: child abandonment / child neglect / violence / death

Appearance:  https://sta.sh/22907otke7dv

HEIGHT: 172.5 cm / ~5′7″

WEIGHT: 51 kg / 112 lbs

BUILD: slender / lean / neat hourglass

HAIR COLOR: black

EYE COLOR: heterochromia iridum, with a white right eye and red left.

A appears far more dainty than what she is capable of. She is certainly in shape, and dresses with both taste and the occasion in mind. It’s certainly normal for eyes to linger upon her, and she uses her pretty face & body to her advantage whenever she can.

Personality:

( + ): resourceful, independent, attentive

( - ):  secretive, cold, manipulative

A is, in one phrase, a free spirit. She values independence and free will above all else, stemming from the need to fend for herself throughout her life. Surviving alone has trained her to be resourceful, adaptive, and careful when time comes, but her usual lazing about hardly give this away.

Her tongue only spews mercurial and artificial speech; she will laugh off most things with a remark meant to be sarcastic, perhaps mocking on a bad day, filled with double meanings only she herself would understand the references. She is quite self aware of her antics, though it would take more care than she gives for her to stop them.

She’s known to maintain a stubborn hold on her share of secrets, though her show of such annoyance has worn with her maturing. They also strongly dislike sentimentality and attachment to people ( despite her penchant for doing so ), having suffered the most at the hands of those she cared the most. When confronted, she often gives a cold, apathetic shoulder to the subject. With the right people ( it seems first impression lasts with her ), she can be surprisingly tolerant and flattering with her words, showing obvious bias in who she’d rather be conversing with.

If it does not concern her own personal business, she’s relatively easy to get along with, as long as there’s no effort to dig into her past or motive. After all, the workload can be alleviated with more bodies! With those she is familiar with, she tends to tease them mercilessly. When something does catch her attention, she persists in a strong curiosity, practically interrogating the victim.

Her supposed cruelty and villainy is really only a mask. One that was pushed onto her, but also one that she accepted willingly. Though she says her cold heart has no room, her actions reveal attentiveness and care for close ones. She’s annoyed at herself for the extent she’d be willing to go for a true friend.

Background:

It began with abandonment. Without any knowledge of why she was left behind, they had prioritized survive above all, blending into the city as one of the many stray cats. It stayed this way for a few years, with her tentatively learning of her nature before being taken into care by a human guardian in a turn of events.

She lived at the orphanage-like place as a human, simply basking in the kindness and ordinary lifestyle with the other children there. All was fine. Then, as the months passed, she began to notice a strange subtle fatigue. She woke up many times in the middle of the night to unfamiliar and strange nightmares that he couldn’t seem to recall. Slowly, they became more and more vivid, but for what reasons, she couldn’t understand. It affected her health significantly; she could only watch as the children played and struggle to stay awake.

On one night she had ventured downstairs at night to find her guardian, too fearful of slipping back into sleep. Assuring she would be fine, she had fallen asleep only to awake to a traumatizing scene of her guardian’s death, as well as injuries on her human body. Shaken, the authority immediately separated the children to other available households as they investigated and searched for any possible suspects.

This move proved to ultimately worsen the girl’s condition, even though the nightmares seemed to have stopped. Grieving and starved for comfort and affections, she conformed to anything her new guardian demanded of her. With expectations of her continuously mounting, and neglect for anything less that was considered less than perfection, it was an unsettling and extremely stressful time of her life. Eventually she had snapped, escaping the confinements of the house after a particularly painful confrontation with said guardian.

While wandering around, she had finally encountered others who seem to be in the same situation as her. With this discovery of their powers came an intense curiosity. Why were they left? What are shapeshifters? This union was short lived, for one by one her companions seem to vanish.  Deciding that she hasn’t fled far enough, she ran without a destination in mind before finding another band of shifters.

However, unlike her first band of companions, they seemed to be comparably more knowledgeable of their plight. Offering a place among them, she joined them in their travels. Of the things they had told her, one of them was that was shifters like them were not meant to last. Still, with nowhere to go she lived happily with them, staying away from human contact and enjoying life for what it was until there was no one left.

She had eventually stayed in a city known as Koi for a new start after taking time to overcome the brunt of her grief ( it never left her quite the same ). After the city seemed to have been overcome in an eternal winter storm, she had left, traveling on her own before ultimately resolving to head back to the city that was the root of all her hauntings. She dived headfirst in trying to learn of the secrecy of the existence of her race, confident she wouldn’t be so easily eliminated by the antagonizing purges.

Her gamble proved to be successful, and she soon learned of the secret but massive network of shapeshifters across the world and just why someone like her was deemed such a menace that the order was to kill on sight. Time was beginning to run out for her, but A was more than prepared to cause a stir in the conventions of the society before she dies.

Memento:

A very nice knife.

Natural Abilities:

Born with the power to shapeshift, it’s an extremely useful power that has gotten her out of trouble countless times. It’s a versatile ability, from altering her senses to full out shifting her entire body ( or even partly ). There seems to be no side effects, although it’s noted her eye color never changes during shifting. Possible uses include

Healing: from any level of damage, as shapeshifting to a new form essentially resets her health state.

Changing Shape: Having practiced and amassed her powers, A is able to shapeshift into both imaginary as well as real life species, or simple alter her sensory abilities. The former takes the most out of her, as it require intense mental envisioning. 

ADDENDUM: in nelrunari, A is limited to forms smaller than a car, and her shapeshifting wears off after an hour if kept, reverting to her usual human form instead. She can shift twice per day. 

Power History: -

Extra:

Spotify

Pinterest ( blood/weapon image tw )

❖ Nelrunari Section ❖

Ward: Circinus

Player Tag: Here

❖ OOC Section ❖

Name/Alias: Crescent

Contact: @iniquitus on twit

Age: 18+

Pronouns: she/her

[sw124]

Underfell: Rings

Underfell/Dollhouse: Rings

[Trigger warning, abuse of a minor and psychological torment don't read if you are triggered by this Underfell Lane is called Raspberry]

I am a princess in my home, I am treated as such. I wear nothing but the best cloths, dress in the finest of jewelry...I also must follow some rules of etiquette my brother Papyrus laid out.

1. Ladies don't touch the floor with their bare feet.

2. Ladies must always have an escort.

3. Ladies must make eye contact when having a conversation, the floor does not have eyes.

I'm sure you get the idea, lets get back to the jewelry, I have a box that carries them. It was made by my brother Sans of all people. He's so lazy but I have to admit he did a wonderful job in making it, it has a glass top so I can look at my jewels and admire them....and..as Papyrus puts it..."Remind myself why they were taken in the first place".

I'll start with just a little a month ago, I mouthed off as usual but something was different. Normally when I mouth off to either of my brothers we both start arguing, but they.....just gave me this stare and....would walk off. It scared me I won't lie it really terrified me, I noticed also they watch what I do when I'm going to bed. Another thing is that Papyrus has been bringing me something to drink every night before I got to sleep.

You'd think thats normal for a brother to do but not in my household, when he does something nice like this it means he's planning something mean. That much I can relate to him but Sans...he...he started examining my rings before I'd go to bed. He'd pull on them, tap them, examine every part of them. My first ring on my right hand disappeared shortly after the day I broke a plate, the rest of them followed suit till I only had two left. I...I was getting scared, terrified even. I went to Sans frantic about my missing rings.

"B-Big brother, please help me! I'm so scared, I fall asleep and they disappear!" It was the first time I had ever sobbed into lap, not since I was far smaller then what I am now....he patted my back and answered me as if nothing was wrong.

"Don't worry about it, if it bothers ya so much then go talk to Papyrus ok sweetie?" He smiled at me with that one gold tooth gleaming.

The way he smiled.....that unsettled me worse then my missing rings, I hurried over to Papyrus. He said the same thing...I pressed against him my arms gripping what they could and begged him, begged him for help. I even started to cry more....then...that same smiled appeared on Papyrus's face.

"Now now darling sister, no need to be frightened. So a few rings go missing, nothing to be so upset about..you never needed them in the first place."

The way he said that...the way he held my face in his hands...his smile....it...it made me feel as if what he was saying was a lie. Like those words were masking the truth in his answer to me....in my own head I translated "Oh naive sister, there will be no reason to give them back." At least that's what I believe he really meant to say, Sans too.

I was careful then..incredibly careful about everything I did, from going outside to even eating my dinner...which was...hard without my rings...I asked Sans for help. Strange enough he didn't decline, he's starting to look at my teeth now. Two of them...my K-9 teeth, each time he tells me to open my mouth...it scares me....I'm scared he'd rip them out of my head. Thankfully he didn't he just looked at them...then again....thats how he looked at my rings before they were taken.

That night I decided not to sleep, Papyrus brought me my drink and left....when I was sure he was gone I poured it out my window and climbed back into bed. This time I wanted to see..who was taking my rings...I waited for what seemed like hours.....then I heard it...the door opening. I was ready to attack, I could hear someone walking around my bed. Someone touched my hand where my last rings were, when I felt the hand touch my rings I attacked.

"THEIF!"

I screamed it out so loud I think it scared'm, I kicked and threw my pillows at whoever it was till suddenly something froze me...I looked down seeing my soul had turned blue. I slammed back into my bed, I struggled but I couldn't move....I turned my head to see the thief.....my own brother Papyrus was standing there rubbing his head, I turned and saw Sans in the doorway.

"I thought you said she was out?" Sans didn't sound pleased..he sound kind of annoyed.

"I suppose she didn't bother to take her drink tonight...no matter." I watched Papyrus pull my hand towards him...where my last two rings were on.

"You...sure you wanna do this while she's awake...ain't the point of this to-" Sans was sweating hard and looking at me.

"We can't put her to sleep now, nor pass it off as a bad dream....besides this might just what she needs. She needs to know who rules this house hold." He reached over and stroked my head, I wanted to pull away.....

"Now then where were we?"

I saw him pull something from his pocket....it...looked like a funny pair of clippers, it was shaped like an eyelash curler but the end was fully round...and blades on the inside of them. He looked so calm, I..I tried wriggling away from him but that stupid blue magic kept me rooted to where I was....I couldn't get away. He took my left hand...he placed one of my rings inside that circle...that blade felt so cold. Suddenly the blade came down....it cut my ring completely off. The pain was unreal, something I never felt before in my entire life....I never noticed Sans walking up.

"Take it easy...just one more to go...." he whispered to me, by this time I found my strength again and started kicking wanting to get away.

"...Keep her still idiot...just one more to go." Papyrus was glaring at Sans now, I looked at him pleading him to make him stop....but instead that blue magic grew tighter on my soul.

"Just bare with it...its almost over." He wasn't looking at me this time when he said that.

I screamed, cried, begged anything for my brother to spare my last ring but he ignored me. My last ring...a ring used for making promises with other monsters by linking them together, sometimes saying a small little incantation to insure the promise is not broken...in a blink of an eye and a rush of more unimaginable pain...my last ring was taken from me. I watched as a deep red color dripped from my hand...it felt hot as it dripped down my palm.

After that night things were never the same, I'd avoid both of them as much as possible in the house...I can't leave cause of my ringless hands..monsters would stare. Besides...Papyrus tells me a princess can't leave without an escort...Sans is too lazy and Papyrus is too busy...so I have to stay here...in my "castle".

The box Sans made carries all ten of my rings....I look at them...then at my ringless hands.....I cry......

End Ch. Rings

Next Ch. Swapfell: Lace

[keptin-indy]

Dresden Files: Salem 9

Remember when I was distraught about something I couldn’t talk about a few weeks back?  THIS IS THAT SESSION.

Also a lot of things are made up about the real-life Turner-Ingersoll Mansion, aka the House of Seven Gables. I think only the GM has even read the book, much less the actual history of the place.

Ath had Adler return him to his renovated body, his true form basically forming the body’s spine, which explained his stiff bearing.  He was also insistent that no one who had the potential to wield him (namely Baz) touch him, which was understandable and respected.  It didn’t take long for him to re-acclimate himself to his changed frame and he was thankful that he didn’t have to relearn how to walk (he had apparently floated in the ancient NeverNever, but speculated that the parts of the NeverNever which bordered on the mortal world had changed too much over the aeons for that to still be the case).  Baz got a number of worried phonecalls from the community reporting Murchah’s apparent murder at the hands of an unidentified monster, which he tried to soothe over by telling people he was already taking care of it.  He also got a call from an old friend who said he would be transferring from the Boston PD to Salem soon and did he know of any apartments that didn’t cost an arm and a leg up there?

That night, strange dreams once again plagued the supernatural residents of Salem, this time in the form of a burning green eye peering through a crack in the firmament, though those were the only details in common and everyone reported slight variations in their personal visions.  The dreams were the talk of the town the next day and Adler asked one of the spirit-tourists visiting Count Orlok’s if they dreamed, but it had no idea what he was talking about.  Eunice had decided to haunt Adler that day and started with a more basic question: do the spirits sleep?  It also still didn’t know what she meant, so first she tried to explain the concept of sleep and then got sidetracked by the logistics of inhabiting a dead body.  Through her extensive experience in getting small children to go to bed, she coaxed the spirit into the museum’s breakroom and lulled it to sleep, but the body it was wearing unexpectedly went deathly still and nothing could wake it back up, leaving Eunice and Adler with a corpse on the back room’s couch.  Eunice floated out to find Baz, but forgot what she wanted him for by the time she found him.  Adler put the stiffening corpse in a vampire costume and nervously passed it off as a display prop until the end of the day, when he stashed it in the storage room and called Baz to help him remove a body.  Baz was extremely confused, but Ath offered to rent a van and the four of them took the body to Daniyah.  The sorceress asked if her spirit had met an unfortunate end and Adler told her it was trying to understand sleep.  Daniyah told them that spirits do not sleep, but it may have been pulled back into the NeverNever and, provided it wasn’t in direct sunlight when it had crossed over, was likely still in the vicinity of Count Orlok’s.  While they were there, Baz also asked if Daniyah had had the dream with the eyes, which she confirmed, further saying that she’d had it before several times over the years, perhaps once a generation, and it had never been a problem.  Whatever it was, Warden Rowland always took care of it, but beyond that she didn’t know anything about it.She politely offered them tea and cookies, notably not treating Ath’s new appearance any differently than she had Murchah, as she’d been in the city almost as long as he had and had seen this kind of identity change before.

Baz went back to the Rowland Estate to look through the Commander’s notes for anything about the giant eyeball, but found only two references, one saying to contact William Turner about it, then 20 years later another reminding him to track down George Turner.  Sure enough, there was an old rolodex with George Turner’s phone number, but when Baz called, the house belonged to new owners who told them the man they’d bought it from went to a nursing home afterwards.  Eunice haunted all the local nursing homes until she found the one George Turner had lived at...until his passing the night before.  Some research turned up that the Turners had been a long-established mercantile family responsible for the building of the House of Seven Gables, but that George had been the last of them and had died without issue.  According to local lore, the House of Seven Gables was cursed, driving people connected to it insane.  Eunice gave Baz a stern admonition about not having any heirs himself and lamented that he was too young for Evelyn (who was thankfully not there to hear that), which Baz took as Eunice’s roundabout and exasperating way of showing her approval of him.  Baz called Mary to see if she had any more information on the Turners or the House and it turned out that the Circle had bought the House when George was sent to a home and had managed it ever since.  However, no practicing witch had set foot inside it for years after the last practitioner caretaker of the place, Pete Harris, had come out insane and, horrifyingly, without magical ability.  Several other Witches took turns looking after him, but he was delusional at the best of times and incoherent the rest, though still lucid enough to be frustrated that no one understood him.  Adler tracked down Pete’s current caretaker and Baz asked to meet with their charge as soon as possible.  Pete obviously had relevant information, as he was babbling about eyes in the dark watching him when the group (tragically still minus Evelyn) came in and continued in that vein as they tried to ask him more specific questions.  The only new information they got from him was that he said the eye was in the house (presumably of Seven Gables) and that it has “drunk his magic and cried rivers of blood”.  Pete’s caretaker ushered the group out when he tired and told them that this had been one of his more lucid days.  On the way out, Eunice wondered concerningly if all patients with dementia were perhaps talking about perfectly real things other people just didn’t understand, but Baz was more worried by the idea of losing his connection to magic.

The group had no choice by to check out the House in person, but Baz was uneasy about going inside (and indeed, the Circle warned all magical tourists not to enter), so Eunice stepped into the MaybeMaybe to see what she could find, which turned out to be suspiciously not much.  Most houses of such age and reputation had some resident ghosts or spirits, but this one was empty in the spirit realm.  Ath entered the house in the physical world and felt as though he was being watched, but took the standard tour anyway.  The (vanilla mortal) tour guide played up the nonspecific creepy history of the house, and when Ath asked about stories he’d heard of a big green eye, the guide told him he would love to hear more about that after the tour.  The rest of the tour went normally (though Adler did text Ath to make sure he hadn’t gone insane) and after the other guests had left, the guide said that Ath obviously wasn’t there for the tourism, what with the dream going around again.  Ath said he was collecting information for the Warden and the guide was happy to open up, saying that he’d never seen anything personally, but he’d also never spent the night there after what happened to Pete.  They were all welcome to look around and he gave Ath his contact information.  As Ath wandered through the house, the feeling of being watched intensified, especially around the windows underneath the famous gables, and when he looked through them, his reflection was subtly wrong, showing his body, parts of his true form, and twisted elements that came from nowhere.  Meeting back up with the group, Ath reported his findings and Baz said that the windows were probably Ways into the NeverNever.  Ath added that there was likely some kind of involuntary opening trigger for them at night and the group examined the windows from the outside, still getting the same kinds of unsettling reflections.  Since the actual physical windows had been replaced over the years, the gateways couldn’t be directly attached to them, but the history of the House showed that it had a sort of metaphysical weight that extended beyond its literal structure: various attempts to remodel it in the past had always eventually ended up with its original design intact, so tragically the group’s vague suggestion of just burning it down was unlikely to work.  They decided to come back at night, just before dawn, to see what the windows did and without direct intervention, the dreams with the burning eye recurred, upsetting the community, who had never had to deal with it for more than one night at a time before.  Since Eunice didn’t sleep, she took the opportunity to rifle through George Turner’s belongings at the nursing home, turning up a signed copy of the House of Seven Gables, which she gave to a bewildered and awe-struck Baz when they met up.  At night, the House’s windows glowed very faintly green, almost subtle enough to be passed off as reflections, but when the group looked through them, each saw only their own reflection and not any of the others’, strangely idealised, but still unquestionably Wrong and with glowing green eyes like the one in the dream.  Baz opened the Sight and found a huge pair of solid green eyes looking inward at him, not initiating a Soulgaze, but making it hard for even him to close the Sight.  Sam licked a window and could feel something trying to pull him in, but, again, had no way to communicate this beyond growling at it.  The group was eager to go inside without Baz, who was at the most risk, but Baz refused to let others take risks on his behalf.  Rather than argue about this, Ath barged into the building, hearing brief whispers before the dawn abruptly cut them off.

The group returned again the next night, this time before midnight to give them more time, and everyone heard the whispers upon entering the house.  From the inside, the windows were blatantly glowing, as was the door to the attic...which the House hadn’t had during the day.  The door jamb was made of incongruous stone in the wooden wall and blood seeped out from all sides (though apparently not human blood, according to the two sensitive noses in the party).  Before proceeding any further, Eunice suggested that they share what the whispers were saying to each of them.  Ath said they offered him a choice between forgetting all the horrors he had seen and starting over, ceasing to exist, or returning to his former glory as a Formori champion.  Baz said laying down his burdens and letting someone better suited take the job.  Eunice said getting her baby boy back.  Adler pointedly did not answer, saying only “there is a monster at the end of this book”.  Sam was a dog and also didn’t answer, but presumably it was lots of pets and food.  Baz opened the ominous door and felt something metaphysical break at his touch.  On the other side was a void, but when he cast a magelight into it, it gave the uncanny feeling of the illumination being the only thing that gave the place substance.  The floor beyond where the light fell surely didn’t exist and wouldn’t unless the light touched it, and eerie things moved in the darkness around them.  Adler gave himself bioluminescent veins and the group heard footsteps approaching across the non-existent floor.  An old man with a book and striking green eyes stepped into the light, cordially introducing himself as He Who Offers despite Sam’s insistent growling.  When questioned about the dreams, He said that the eyes were how they perceived a portion of his being, and that they saw into the hearts of men, finding what they wanted most.  A compact had been made with him long ago which brought him to this place where men killed for personal gain.  Baz pointed out that the House was a museum to Nathaniel Hawthorne now, which wasn’t exactly suited to this greed and betrayal stuff and He asked if He had permission to leave it, which Baz immediately denied because He sounded too excited about it.  Baz then asked why the eyes were appearing to everyone, since that sort of thing was usually confined to Halloween.  The man answered that He didn’t know what Halloween was (which was shocking, as all spirits intrinsically knew that), but an offer stood open that was traditionally taken by the Turners, who had only asked for petty, boring things like wealth and success.  When asked what He got in return, He seemed confused, saying that He just offered things.  Pete Harris had evidently refused his offer and had been driven mad by it.  As long as no one accepted the offer, the dreams would continue until someone stepped into the Turners’ place, though someone with a longer lifespan could prevent the position needing to be filled so frequently.  Adler suggested that maybe what He got in return was a stronger foothold in reality every time someone took one of his deals, and Baz suddenly realized the niggling feeling of familiarity he’d had since He introduced himself.  He Who Offers was an Outsider, the most mysterious and malevolent beings the Council had ever encountered, constantly looking in from the Outer Gates and seeking entry; even talking to one was a violation of the Seventh Law.  Baz told the others to get back through the door now and He bemusedly observed that Baz had finally worked it out, but leaving wouldn’t solve the problem and the door still stood open.  A cold wind blew past the party toward the open door, insubstantial and unstoppable...except by Sam, who grabbed it in his mystical jaws, holding it in place even as it tried to struggle loose.  Baz tried every magic he could muster in a few seconds to stop the thing so Sam could let go, but Outsiders are basically immune to mortal magic and he couldn’t hit the wind with a sword.  Sam held fast and whined pointedly toward the door until the others took the hint to get out, but Baz refused to leave him until Sam turned his big eyes on him and motioned him toward the door.  Tearfully, Baz told Sam that he was the best boy and closed the door as he left, trapping Sam beyond the Outer Gates.

This link contains a spoiler for anyone who might be made anxious about bad things happening to dogs and doesn’t want to worry about it for a week.

[moonglw]

I’ve been thinking about 13 RW for weeks now,

And now that I’ve got time to write about it, maybe I can finally sort my feelings about the show somehow, because honestly, no show has ever made me mull over my actions and intentions like this one did.

First, the concept of writing tapes as some form of a suicide note. Overly dramatic, I agree. But isn’t that how the character was designed to be? Hannah is all for the extra things to be honest. She was a hopeless romantic. And I know people like her. I don’t like them then, but I understand them now. 

Then we move on to the subject of these tapes being used as a means of revenge. Like these tapes were meant to make these people feel guilty. No, it doesn’t. Hannah never intended to make these people feel guilty. She wanted to tell her side of the story. Why? Because no one was willing to listen. Days before her suicide, her friends (Clay, Jessica, Tony) ignored her, her parents were disappointed in her, her teacher would not help her. I can only imagine what that felt like, and after the thing with Bryce and Justin. Come to think of it, even the death of classmate to be guilty about. It was all too much. No one was listening. She wanted to at least let them know why they became a reason.

The glorification of assault, bullying, and suicide. It doesn’t. By dictionary, glorifying means honoring, praising, represent something that is admirable etc. I repeat it doesn’t. All these scenes with the abuse, assault, suicide it’s not glorifying at all. It’s unsettling. And that’s probably the reality. Triggering is the more appropriate word, but not glorifying. And that is the purpose of the Trigger warnings at the start of the episode. So I will not advocate this show to people I know who are mentally unstable. Because I think it’s supposed to be for us, who can handle these things, who are somewhat mentally stable so that we may know and we may be able to detect the signs. And we may be careful with our words, thoughts, and actions towards other people. 

Lastly, it offers some kind of help or solution. In the show, not explicitly, because it’s not the topic, the main plot was  how we don’t know what happens to anyone, and that our words, thoughts, and actions could mean a lot or nothing to them. We are also shown that a suicidal person can be a normal looking person, and you never know when someone is suicidal, so you gotta look for the signs, the problem is these signs are hard to detect. That’s the whole point, to raise awareness that suicide can happen to anyone. And words can affect someone so much as assault, abuse, and bullying can. 

They offer a solution. Well, not totally a solution, but some kind of help at the end. If you would just watch Beyond the Reasons, they talked about mental health, with specialists of course, and they provide sites that could help raise awareness about suicide, and hotlines that people can contact if they feel the same way like Hannah. It becomes a bit problematic though because the producers were advised against the graphic scenes but they still went with it just to get that shock factor out there. 

So there it goes, the other day, I was contemplating if I’d still tell my friends to watch this show. Well perhaps only those who I know can handle it. I have friends who are mentally ill and they are not happy about this show. Well I’m not happy about it either. Because it sucks to even have a show like this. And yes we needed a reminder to be kind to everyone, and not just nice. We need a show to remind us that while we think that there are many toxic people in this world, we too can be one of them, we too can be toxic to other people. 

I just hope that this show won’t get to be a pop culture thing, like those other shows from Netflix (I admit, I laughed at some  memes from the show) but I really hope people don’t turn suicide into a meme. 

Overall, I still believe that this show is important, an eye opener for some of us. And I get why those who have experienced assault, abuse, and suffer from mental illness despise this show so much. One show, heck even thousands of shows can never explain their suffering and pain. But I hope with this one, people can be more careful with just about everything they do.