#its just so ominous to me. gives me the creeps

[catamaurrr-star]

i think hsr is a horror game just for this fucking trailer alone

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[l0serloki]

omg i just got to know u write for jjk too!! I originaly was following you because of your valorant stuff and i love your writing style and those cute gifs you add at the start of every post <3

If its not alot can you please make some short drabbles/headcannons for the jjk men (gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso, megumi) where its late at night you are all cuddled up and you hear something from downstairs, the man get all protective thinking its an intruder and go check it out. ( you can make it an actual intruder and add a lil fight scene or make it a racoon or a stray cat and make it cute its upto u)

Im sorry if i sound wierd english is not my first language 😅

Intruder Alert

(Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Todo, Sukuna, Choso, Megumi)

A/N : UMMM first off I read Toji as Todo soo.. sorry about that one. Second off thank you so much for the request!! I kinda made these more cracked out than I expected them to be.. I hope you still enjoy and I can always do more if you want.

CW : intruders (duh), casual murder (geto), gojo being an ominous being, Sukuna being on top of you as you wake up

masterlist

Gojo : 

    Your body was cuddled against your boyfriend as you tried to sleep. As quickly as sleep came, it left. There was a sudden noise downstairs that made you jump.

“What was that?!” Gojo turned to you, scratching at his face. 

“I don’t know. It sounded like something downstairs.” You whisper out and the blue eyed freak groaned.

“Don’t worry babe. I’ll go check it out. There’s no need to be scared.” Gojo grabbed at your hand pulling you out of the warm sheets.

“If you’re going to check it out, why are you taking me along with you?” You deadpanned as he corralled you down the stairs. 

“Because babe if I die then you need to avenge me.” Gojo whispered out as he peeked around the corner. His eyes surveyed the kitchen as he crept in.

“Coast is clear- HOLY SHIT!” Gojo fell back, crawling to your feet. You watched as a raccoon jumped down from the counter, scurrying back outside from the open porch door. 

“Satoru, why did you leave the backdoor open..?” You rolled your eyes as you helped the ‘strongest’ man to his feet.

“I thought you did.” He grinned as he got up and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

“Why am I with you?” You chided and he just pouted.

“So mean..”

Geto : 

   “There’s a noise Sugu..” You whisper out as you adjust in his arms. Your eyes stare up at him as he scrolls through the TV.

“It’s probably nothing Y/N. Don’t worry.” He rubbed at your head as he continued to mindlessly stare. You heard steps creeping as you continued to lay there. You couldn’t help but feel anxious and definitely with the warrant out for your boyfriends head.

“Suguru, someone is in the house.” You plead. He only rolls his eyes as he shuffles around in bed. 

“You’re fine-” His eyes widen as the door slams open, a tall man standing in the wake.

“Geto Suguru, it’s nice to finally meet you.” His grin is wicked and you crawl closer to Suguru out of fear.

“It’s not smart breaking into my house, you know.” He grabs at your form and pulls you up. Curses forming behind the estranged man as Geto frowns. 

“Personal preference really. I don’t get why people consider you that strong.” The man shrugs as he gets closer and you flinch as a punch flies past your face. One of his many curses attach to the mans fist. 

“Pathetic. At least I know I need to replace the lock.” Geto rolls his eyes as the man screams in agony, his head exploding from the pressure of the curse.

“Are you okay darling?” Geto bends down to run his hand across your cheek, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your warnings before. I’ll be more observant for you.” He leaves another peck as he sets you down against the plush pillows of the bed. 

“Give me a moment to clean up and we can cuddle, okay?” 

You only nod as you shake from the violent attack. You knew you were always safe with him but that didn’t make you worry any less. But at the end of the day, you still had him.

“Okay.” You lean in to give him one more kiss as he goes to clean up the ‘leftovers’.

Nanami : 

  You were cradled in Nanami’s arms as you heard rustling around. Nanami gripped tighter at you as the noises became louder. 

“Kento..” You mumbled out. His soft snores filled the room as you tried to wake him up. You squirmed around in his arms trying to get his attention. A scream left your lips as a harsh knock on the bedroom door filled the silence.

Nanami whipped straight up, gripping at his cleaver that sat on the bedside table. 

“Y/N what’s wrong?” He placed a quick kiss against your forehead as another knock sounded at the door. You gave him a scared look and he squeezed your hand.

“Nanami, are you there? I just got done giving Megumi his gift so if you could open up..!” Gojo’s voice filled the silence and you let out a giant sigh. Of course it was Gojo.

“Gojo, what are you thinking sneaking into peoples houses at 3 am. Regardless of time there is a thing called privacy.” Nanami swung the door open, berating the special grade as he started to push him out. Gojo gave you a thumbs up as he sat the gift bag on the chair and continued to struggle against the blondes hold.

“Try the lemon flavor Y/N! I think you will like it!” Gojo calls out as Nanami shuts the door on his face and sighs. He comes back over to the bed, his face worn down as he falls into his pillow. You couldn’t help but laugh at the buffoonery that unfolded.

“Ken are you okay?” You rubbed at his back. He only groaned as he peeked up from the comfort of the bed.

“Can we pretend that never happened?” 

Todo : 

Todo’s face was buried against your chest as he snored. You ran your fingers through his hair as you continued to mindlessly scroll through your phone. You heard noises creaking against the floorboards which attracted your attention.

“What the hell?” You pushed the large man off your chest and stood up to go check out the noise. 

“Huh..? Y/N..” Todo’s hand yanked you back towards the bed, his eyes pleading for you to continue cradling him. 

“There’s someone there Aoi. You have to let me check.” You push his hands away much to his dismay and move to leave the bedroom. His body moves quicker than yours, ripping away at the door.

“Is someone there!?” 

There was a scuttle from a thief grabbing at some of your belongings, his hands flying up as Todo stomped through the hall.

“How dare you ruin my time with Y/N?! I am disgusted!” Todo grabs the thief by his shirt and tears open the window. 

“Todo, the vase!” You screech as your vase teeters and he throws the man out the window, grabbing the nice china in time.

“Stupid. Now let’s go back to the bedroom.” He dusts himself off as he grabs you with one arm and makes his way back into the room.

“Maybe we should check the door..” You gasp against his tight hold as you try to process what just happened.

“The door should try and check me!” He gloats as he places you gently on the bed, still worked up from having his precious time taken from him.

Sukuna : 

    Your body slid in the sheets as you felt hands gripping at your face. Your eyes slowly opened and adjusted to see the beast on top of you. 

“What-” You struggled to speak as his hand pushed your cheeks together.

“Such pretty lips. All for me?” He grinned as you smacked his chest. Sadly this was a recurring theme with the two of you. Whenever Yuji lost control you always somehow had Sukuna trailing close behind you. And although you weren’t particularly happy waking up to such intrusions, you didn’t mind it either.

“Cmon.” Your voice is garbled as he pets your skin and grins.

“No scream for the intruder? I’m disappointed.” He slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to harm you but just enough to wake you up.

“You’re a piece of shit.” You roll your eyes as he chuckles and pulls you flush against him.

“You like it.”

Choso : 

“Baby.. there’s something outside.” Your eyes barely peek above his arm as you hear the scratching at the window. Choso just groaned and pulled you tighter into his embrace.

“It’s okay. Just sleep..” His voice was hoarse as he patted your head. You couldn’t help but still feel anxious, tugging at him to wake up.

“Please..” You jolted as another harsh slap hit the window. Choso sat up and made an annoyed face.

“Who would be stupid enough to come here?” He stomped out of the bed and over to the window. He ripped at the curtains and opened the window. 

“You think it’s funny-” Choso starts only to get backhanded by the tree arm that had apparently been smacking the window. Your eyes widened as he wiped at his face, turning to see you laughing hysterically. He let out a small laugh as he rolled his eyes.

“Glad to see you’re not worried anymore.” He slides back into bed, pulling you flush against him. 

“Baby you didn’t close the window.”

“Really..”

Megumi : 

  Your body rested against Megumi’s as you both cuddled against the sheets. It was a cold night and the heater was all but broken. One of your hands rubbed at the fur of the black dog coating you like a blanket while the other rubbed through your boyfriend's hair.

There was a ruckus from downstairs, your body jolting at the sudden noise. The dog seemed to notice as well, sitting up and growling, ready to protect you and Megumi.

“There’s something..” You pushed against your boyfriend and he slowly wiped the sleep out of his eyes. You arms circled around him as his shinigami jumped down from the floor and went to go sniff out said intruder.

“If someones there we will know. Don’t worry.” Megumi stretched as he tried to get into action. He jostled himself out of the comfy position and opened the door. 

“Really.” His voice was deadpan as the dog came back into the room and jumped on you, unfazed. You were confused - there had to be someone if Megumi was talking.

“Hello dearest son! I brought sweets! Oh and hello Y/N!” Gojo gives a wave as he holds a giant bag out.

“Get out.” Megumi rolls his eyes as he pushes the bag away and shuffles the sorcerer back through the house. You could only chuckle at the interaction and hope that Megumi would tell him to knock next time.

[dilfomaniac]

❝𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝙈𝙞𝙡𝙠❝

leon kennedy x fem!reader ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

ft. Death Island Leon S. Kennedy

wc: 3.409

cw: ddlg, age gap, innocence kink, p in v, riding, creampie, praise kink, rough sex

note: This was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being a rushed fic ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა writer’s block has me in a chokehold lately, ignore parts that don’t make sense !! i’ll fix those tmrw cuz 3 in the mornin… ͟mdni 18+

The silence in the room is steep, the lack of light even more than so. Wind knocks itself against the window, every tremor making you feel like its aim is to break in. Your heart is racing, your eyes wide and on the lookout for the source of your alarm. Of course, there’s none, but you haven’t really grown out of childish habits. You’ve heard stories after stories about houses being haunted, ghosts residing in each and every corner waiting to pounce on defenseless girls like you, and it’s been stuck to you ever since. Stored inside your head as a core reminder that something’s creeping in the dark.

You’re the ripe age of nineteen, there’s no particular reason for you to believe this still. Fear of the dark should’ve been abandoned when you were twelve - when the failing of classes and smothering glare of teachers vanquished the rest of the worries. At this point, it’s just laughable. Even your stuffed animals are starting to look awfully odd. You look past one shoulder, past the other, detect no strange entities and wash down the dryness in your throat. You’re curled up in a ball, snug like a puppy, hoping to fall asleep like one when something welts your window. Your head snaps towards the sound and you see something flit behind the windowpane, flashing its ominous identity to you. The child inside you screams - you’re quick to comply with it, tossing the blanket off yourself and scampering out of your bedroom like an overgrown puppy.

-

You scurry your way downstairs, hand on the railing gathering dust on your fingertips. There’s better lighting here, because Daddy’s fallen asleep with the TV on, snoring to the mumbles of another sitcom you told him about, as if he genuinely watches those. You lower the volume until it’s mute, not daring to turn the TV off because it’s the only source that illuminates the room enough - save for the crescent moon which didn’t do you much help back in your bedroom. Making your way towards the sofa you observe Leon who's sleeping like a top - head over the back of the couch, mouth tipping agape. You fail to stifle a giggle, but this is no laughing matter, mind you. He promised you, oh, he promised you so many times he’d come and join you in the bed eventually, but he didn’t. “Okay, sweetheart. You go, and I’ll be there soon, yeah? Daddy has some things to finish,” No, Daddy just wants to make an empty promise and fall asleep on the couch. He always does, likes the feel of giving you a heavy heart. Your brows crinkle with lack of guilt when you go to nudge his shoulder. Leon’s a light sleeper, so his eyes burst open like a puppet, old geezer snoring cut short.

“Baby—” His chest rises in a beat, hand clutching your wrist reflexively. He takes a moment to shake the remaining sleep off, tossing his head back and clearing his throat to waken. “You were supposed to be asleep.”

The audacity he has to say those words, when you were supposed to be asleep with him, not without him. Ghosts don’t come up to scratch when Daddy’s with you, because you know he’s stronger and that they’ll be put off by his mere presence. “You didn’t go to bed. You lied to me,” the accusation comes down as you sink your nails into his forearm, small flecks of red imprinting onto his skin. “You promised me.”

“Yeah. Yeah— Daddy knows,” His brows furrow. Your antics extort a rumbly groan from his throat, but it isn’t until he glares at you that you let go of him sheepishly. It’s just that you can’t help it while you’re like this. Leon is your only safe zone, but he’s so old he can’t even control when he sleeps. “Well, I thought you’d be a big girl and be asleep by the time I’m back. Guess not, huh?” He chuckles silvery and before you see it he’s propping you over his leg, letting you sit pliantly like a puppet with your knees dipping in the gaps, entwining in his legs. You’re not easy to play like one, though - you opt to stay your ground by smacking him on the cheek to which he balefully clutches your wrist. “Don’t go throwin’ hands now.”

“You’re an A-hole.” You say bluntly. He blinks at you as if trying to say how insufferable you are in morse code. “Something— something was behind the window. I think it wanted to break in, and you weren’t here.” You say more like a protest than a distressed denunciation. Leon’s hands come to cradle you, from your back all the way to your scalp, holding you to himself like a baby who can’t support its head yet. He shakes his head, tongue in cheek, so sick of being woken up in the middle of the night because of things so mediocre, but all the more understanding of you. Because you’re his baby. His ray of sunshine. A pretty little thing who makes his day-to-day routines somewhat more endurable. “What, you scared of ghosts now?”

“I’m not!” You say crossly, God forbid your fragile little ego is hurt. “I’m not scared of ‘em, okay? I’m just saying, if someone were to break in, and you weren’t there, it’d be your fault.” It’d also be his fault if you had a nightmare and had no one to lull you back to sleep. Things like this aren’t easily forgivable, you want to tell him, but he already knows.

Leon takes in the scent of your hair balm, fingers threading aimlessly through your hair. You can tell he’s not as worried as you are, but maybe that’s because he knows better and you’ll never know as much even if you conjoined the three remaining brain cells in your head. “Well, I promise you sweetheart, no scary monster s’gonna take you while I’m here,” then he bounces you on his knee and you feel your senses liquify. “You know you’re safe with me, yeah? You aren’t a dumb girl, are you?”

You shake your head, peeking at him between your lashes. You are a dumb girl but don’t entirely want to be one. It’s funny to see how all your worries dissipate once the honeyed lilt sinks in, putting you into an entirely different mental state. “I was scared,” you murmur. Leon only hushes you, bobbing his knee like consoling a toddler.

“I know, baby. I don’t blame you for it.” His stubble scrapes your cheek and then you’re dipping your face lower, nose brushing over a bared clavicle. Leon smells so good, so falsely evocative and citrusy and paternal. Like a daddy you’ve never had but always wanted, and it has you addicted. “Guess I have to make it up to you then, huh?” He stops to look you in the eye, his glare piercing and yet soothing all at once. It’s like he’s trying to read you by your expression alone, find out what goes on in that little head of yours that can’t fit more than maybe a few social interactions per day.

You clutch the hem of his shirt and give him all the puppy eyes you’ve got, tilt your head and play dumb like he equally appreciates. “Uhm, yeah?” He cups your cheeks instantaneously, plants a slew of sloppy kisses across your forehead because cute aggression is real, and he’s more than likely to eat you up if your cheeks don’t deflate. “You owe me big time, idiot,” you pout, “ ‘Cause you never listen to me.”

You’re met with an eye roll and then Leon’s flipping you over so your positions are swapped, you now spread over the couch and him hovering above you. He holds both your hands in one hefty palm and pins them over your sternum, pushes down like he’s trying to submerge you into the cushions. You peep and fend off, even in your sleepy state because you know what comes after he’s fully overpowered you. You’ll scream bloody murder if he starts tickling you. However, to your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he shores you up on the couch and slumps beside you with a soft grunt. “Think we can reserve playtime for tomorrow?” He says. After getting you riled up? No, but, matter-of-factly, it’s way past your bedtime. You bat your lashes solemnly, cast your gaze elsewhere. When you think about it, there will be no playtime, really. Because Leon’s always off on business trips - always on the go to fill his devoir while you’re at home rotting away in pink comforters and stroking yourself to sleep. It’s unfair - so, so unfair, how he makes you wait like a puppy, because you’re so entirely co-dependent on him. You fold your arms and clamber to the opposite side of the couch, avert your face to hide the crimson scattering your cheeks. Leon knows this change of air by rote, knows that his pretty princess is upset, and he knows by heart what your doleful puppy eyes look like, even if you try to hide them from him.

“I’m just kiddin’. I had something else in mind, actually,” he coos at you, one hand planting itself on your thigh and parting it from the other. “Daddy would never lie to you, yeah baby?” The wetness across your neck takes you by surprise when Leon seals the gap between you, making you want to shrug off.

“Tickles,” you mew, raising your hand to his face which he swiftly takes hold of and sets down. You don’t object, ‘cause while you may be bratty, Daddy’s wants will never go over your head. Heat uncoils inside your lower stomach and you start rubbing your thighs with need, stealing glances from Leon who’s nipping you with such fervor, you start doubting whether this takes less energy than your regular playtime.

“Thought you’d get away so easily, huh? Not a chance, baby. You know me.” The metal clink of the belt has you transfixed when you’ve just started squirming, as you sit stockstill beside Leon. He looks at you with a grin - you sit there with panties soaked from one-sided kissing alone. There’s that tent on his lap, like he gets in the mornings. You try to wet your lips but clamp your tongue when he sucks a hickey onto a velvety patch of skin, tugging his briefs down until the forbidden part springs up and whacks him on the gut. Seeing it makes you shudder, snap your head away so fast as if a bare look will contaminate your innocence.

“Yeah, bunny? That so? Don’t like Mr. Horsey?” He exhales with a sneer - you try not to hyperventilate because of the amount of blood that gushes to your face then. You steal one small peek and turn away again, closing your eyes as if the thing will disappear on its own, making Leon chuckle heartily. “Well, I think Mr. Horsey likes you.”

You’re sure neither you nor Leon imagined your lives would ever lead to this moment. Leon for an entirely different reason, but you due the fact that you’ve been turned down by every partner who failed to break down the nature of this play. You never realized how much it meant to you, though, to be purely virgin. “Um,” you teeter more to the edge, eyes darting to all corners of the room, “I like him too— I don’t know.”

He takes it for granted, moving closer until you feel his breath waver. The glow of the TV strains your eyes, casting a fluorescent light that disguises your blush. Leon sets your hand on his crotch, hums contentedly when your palm lays smoothly on his shaft and your fingers grip. “Yeah,” he says. “He likes it when you play with him, baby.” His hand comes to rest on his side and he lets you take the lead, leaning back and exhaling in a way that screams he’s pent, and you better get stroking.

You palm him to the best effort, watching closely to see if what you’re doing with your hand is good enough. All the jerking off you’d done before was winged, and you never really put your mind to it. Leon gave you a chance to learn to actually please a man, and you can never wait to suck up all the praise you can. “Like this?” Your voice squeaks - you suck the inside of your cheek meekly. Leon nods and lets his eyes fall shut when your hand delivers the wet squelches, pre slicking up the entirety of your palm and leaking through your nimble fingers. There’s the faintest bucking of hips and you see him tense before coming to a halt, restraining himself. You’re so wet it hurts. You need him bucking into you instead, and not holding back.

Leon’s cock oozes generously upon your ministrations, and before you know it you’re moving on top to straddle him. Real cowgirl in the making - so excited to have her first ride. He croaks dizziedly, hands hooking behind your knees and helping you up on his lap. You think back to how the Redfields see you two, what they don’t know about you. Maybe the fact that Leon has a college kid for a lapdog isn’t the worst thing that's been happening around here. Maybe that he breeds it on a daily without a pinch of guilt is a fair enough transgression. The waistband of your mini is yanked down when Leon hikes you up on his knee, forcing you to shimmy out of it. He feels up the plush of your pussy, prods through your dampened panties like that doesn’t make you all the more desperate. You’re drooling, practically. If Leon didn’t know any better, he’d stick his fingers down your greedy cunt, but you’ve got to work for it first.

“Come on, baby. Rub yourself on Daddy,” he pulls your panties aside, and you’re so quick to listen. You sink down, hands perched on your ankles until your slippery folds engulf his tip. You’re making quite the mess - to that he toots but otherwise leans back to observe how you’re willing to get started. You buck your hips back and forth, run your nub over his slit repeatedly and whimper like a bitch in heat. When you slide too close to your hole, he slaps your tit, cups your cheeks in one large palm like a warning. This is the root of this whole ordeal - him fucking you to a pulp, turning you into a full crazed nymphomaniac and then leaving like nothing happened. It’s not fair, not fair at all - and the worst part is he’s sure to serve you justice using the same treatment. Fucking you so hard you forget you ever doubted him in the first place.

“Just like that. Good girl,” he murmurs, speaking to you like you’re mentally deficient - which you are. You test your luck by squeezing yourself down, attempting to take him in a little, but Leon’s cock springs like a twig, flaps over you with a wet squelch. You whine.

You grumble like it’s his fault you failed so miserably. He shakes his head, “You know I spoil you too much,” and with that, Leon jams himself inside until he’s breaching you to the brim. You were wrong for being so hasty - he’ll give you a bitter taste.

Startled, you drape your head over his shoulder and sink your nails into his back. You could feel the jab to your cervix, and while that wasn’t particularly good, the feeling of Leon seating you to the hilt sent you straight to heaven. You haven’t had him since so long - you swore at times you clenched on nothing. Leon fills you so good, God, he fills you better than anyone has ever had, and it drives you mad when he doesn’t. You sit bandy-legged when his arms lock around your shoulders, bringing you up so he can slump you back on his cock. Horsey, right? Chris and Claire wouldn’t see either of you in the same light if they knew.

“You might be the dirtiest girl, yeah baby?” He groans, and the tone alone is enough to have you gripping. You shake your head, dirty isn’t exactly your most-liked title. “No?” Leon thrusts deep and you jump up with him, hugging him tight for comfort.

“No! ‘m not—” He rocks you on him, does all the work cause you’re a princess even on top. So spoiled, and yet he’s to blame. Maybe you’ll change one day, but so far he hasn’t had the guts to work you for that outcome. “But you woke Daddy up so you could have his cock up that drooly pussy, didn’t you?” he says and the words jab straight into that spot. Leon groans and then you’re moving on your own, sheathing yourself on him over and over until a ring of cream gathers around the base of his cock. Now you get it. Now it’s horsey.

“Sorry, Daddy. I missed you so much— sorry,” you recite like a plea, stumbling over your words until it’s just unintelligible moans, because Leon’s cock pounds you so good. You lick the sweat off his temple, watch his brows furrow when his hands grip your hips and squeeze impossibly tight, lips catching over yours when your movements grow shaky.

“Sorry— I’m sorry, sorry— Daddy—” Leon shushes you when he begins to thrust in tandem with your wobbly hops, thrusting to a depth you thought was impossible to reach before. You whine and soon he’s lifting your body, holding you up as he drives relentlessly into your cunt, hitting all the spots. Daddy fucks you so good. Daddy pampers you so much. Daddy loves you to the moon and back, and he’s going to give you warm milk to put you to sleep.

“Fuck, baby— You’re a natural. Rode the horsey so good, now it’s Daddy’s turn—” your heart sinks into your throat when you’re thrown over the coffee table, the surrounding items toppling over with a row of clattering and Leon being able to dig deeper into you. You throw your legs over his shoulders, hearing the table creak when he drives into you once more. Fuck. God. The pressure inside you amplifies and then you’re struck by unadulterated bliss, the familiar warmth coating your inner walls as Leon grinds against your cervix. His hair is wet and he heaves like a dog, hands still holding you tightly against the table which you fear might collapse any minute now. You shiver - he gives your side a good smack and pulls out of you with a lewd plop, all what he planted inside you oozing out in thick dollops. Not on his watch, though, ‘cause he pushes it back placidly, panting.

“Good enough for today, princess,” he says but you’re already out of it, lashes fluttering as you try to grasp your consciousness. Leon knocked all the breath out of you, you’ve expired. You hum, feeling your walls pulse and chest swell in a slow-paced rhythm. It’s like that one time you convinced him you’d be able to handle an all-nighter but fell asleep one hour past midnight. Well, you set yourself a record, because it’s just one hour later which is impressive for a little girl like you.

He’ll have to change you into something more comfortable. A miniskirt and knee highs on a winter day? What, were you trying to whore yourself out to the Ghosts? He gets it, you were just asking for it, just wanted to stick your cute ass to get his attention, but sometimes you’re genuinely stupid. His stupid girl. Drunk off Daddy’s milk - he’ll bear that in mind. Sliding his hands under your frail body, he makes the dire mistake of trying to lift you when the coffee table caves in and snatches you with it. Auntie Jill called Daddy a ‘fucking cheapskate’ once when she was over - now you get what she meant.

[goblinontour]

Playground Love

principles and piercings

warnings: dad!alex, fluff, talking, that’s it, the kid is mentioned but not present

word count: 4.9k

The sound of the door seemed to echo through the empty house, punctuating your frustration. You slammed it behind you, exhaling a rough, irritated breath. “Fuck.” The word left your lips in a low groan, half-lost in the rumble of thunder that chased you inside. The rain hadn’t just soaked you – it had become a cold, unyielding second skin, seeping through your sweater, tracing icy rivulets down your neck and arms. Each drop felt like a reminder of his refusal to leave the house this morning, his insistence that you go instead. All because he insisted on playing his brooding poet routine. Stuck inside like a house cat that could no longer bear the sun, playing reclusive vampire. As if the world outside these walls had become foreign, too bright, too sharp for him to tread.

The sky was a dense shade of grey, heavy with clouds that looked like bruises on the horizon. The air had smelled thick and metallic, almost electric, as if the storm carried something more ominous in its folds. And yet, he’d chosen to stay here, curled up in his warm little corner, lost in whatever book had captured his interest this time, entirely detached from the reality you had to walk through alone.

As you shrugged off your drenched coat, it landed with a damp, resigned thud on the hallway bench. The boots took more effort, sticky from mud and pooling rainwater, but you tugged them off and let them drop, watching as small puddles began to spread across the floor. Normally, you’d tidy it up, make sure the mess didn’t creep into the house. Today, you let it lie there, like a silent reminder of what you’d endured.

You made your way through the silent house, feeling the warmth of it slowly seep into your bones. And that’s when you spotted him, his little mop of hair barely visible above the couch cushions, the tips messy and almost comically unkempt, contrasting with the stillness of the room. He sat in his typical lounging position, legs tucked under him, shoulders hunched slightly, a small crease on his forehead as he concentrated on the words in front of him. His headphones were big, cocooning him in sound, book in one hand, and a cup of tea cradled in the other, the soft tendrils of steam curling up like wisps of smoke.

You could tell from the slight furrow in his brow and the relaxed set of his jaw that he was somewhere else entirely, lost in a place he always retreated to. He hadn’t noticed you – he never did, not when he was like this. You watched as he flipped a page, moving as if in a trance, his thumb tracing the corner of the book’s edge in a habitual, absent-minded way, like the very act of reading was a ritual for him.

You stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, half-amused, half-annoyed. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, you thought, a mantra fighting against the urge that was rising within you. But his hair looked so irresistibly soft, so inviting, and that little voice inside you – the one that always wanted to shake him out of his dreamy, unreachable state – was louder today. He’d been distant for days now, and this simple, innocent moment of solitude felt almost selfish, given the morning you’d had.

He deserved a jolt back to reality, you reasoned. A reminder that you were still here, dripping wet from the storm he had refused to brave.

You let your hand hover just above his head, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him, to see the finer details of the little dark waves framing his face. And then, with a quick, almost mischievous swipe, you tangled your fingers in his hair, giving it a deliberate tousle.

Perfect. Just enough to pull him out of his own head.

The reaction was immediate. He tensed, his whole body freezing for a split second before he jerked just enough to spill a splash of tea over his fingers. He whipped around, tugging off his headphones with a startled look, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a mix of surprise and irritation that slowly shifted to something softer when he saw your dripping clothes, the slight smirk on your face.

“Really?” he murmured, the ghost of a smile flickering at the corner of his lips.

“Really.” you replied, letting the word hang in the air, as if daring him to argue.

He looked down at his tea-stained hand, holding it up with an exaggerated sigh as if the sticky mess were some grand tragedy. His fingers curled, studying the small streaks that glistened against his skin, almost contemplative. He opened his mouth, maybe to complain, maybe to tease, but you cut him off.

“You could’ve done the school run.” you said, your tone light but laced with an unmistakable edge. “It’s just rain, not lava.”

He looked back at you, his eyes widening a fraction, a bemused expression flickering across his face as he processed your words. “I hate the rain.” he said, the statement soft, almost gentle, as if reminding you of something you’d forgotten about himself.

You shrugged, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the lingering dampness that still clung to your skin. “I hate a lot of things too.” you replied, though your voice softened as you watched him. “But I went anyway. Because she wanted someone to walk her in.”

He seemed to take that in, letting it settle in the silence between you, his gaze dropping to his tea-stained hand, then back to you, the smallest trace of guilt flashing across his face. You reached out, took his cup, and wrapped your chilled hands around its warmth. He watched as you took a long, slow sip, savouring the taste of the drink you hadn’t even made, letting the warmth seep into you while his eyes lingered on you with something like quiet regret.

The storm outside raged on, thunder rumbling low, but in here, in this small, still room, everything seemed to slow down. The two of you sat there, tangled in a shared silence, an unspoken understanding hanging heavy between you both. The rain might still be falling, but here, wrapped in his gaze and the faint aroma of tea and damp wool, you almost felt warm again.

Without a second thought, you sank down onto the couch beside him, invading his space, still damp and dripping. He could feel the cold fabric of your clothes sticking to his leg, but he didn’t move. If anything, he seemed to settle deeper into the cushions, unfazed, watching you with that quiet, stubborn gaze of his. The book, the well-worn Nabokov novel he’d been pouring over for days, slipped from his hand and came to rest on the coffee table, forgotten in favour of this small exchange.

He didn’t say a word as he reached for you, his hands curling around your ankle. With a practised focus, he began pulling off your damp socks, his fingers deft but gentle, peeling the fabric away like it was some chore he’d taken upon himself long ago. His thumb brushed the arch of your foot, lingering just enough to send a warm spark up your leg. You knew what he was doing, you could feel the unspoken offer in his touch. You’d come back from the rain, chilled and annoyed, and he would be the antidote to all of it, the warmth to counter your cold.

“Despair?” you asked, nodding at the worn paperback now lying on the table.

“Yeah.” he replied without opening his eyes, pressing his thumb deeper into the soft skin of your foot, working out the tension that had gathered there from the cold walk.

“Again?” you asked, with a bemused little smile. You’d watched him read Despair more times than you could count, seen the way he lingered over certain passages as if trying to unlock some hidden truth buried in the sentences.

“Well, it seems so, doesn’t it?” He looked up, a sly glint in his eyes as he took in your expression, the corners of his mouth quirking into the barest hint of a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow, playing along. “You gonna go through with it this time?”

“What? My own murder?” His smirk widened.

“I could do it for you, you know.” you said, feigning an air of indifference. “You couldn’t even get your kid to kindergarten – I doubt you’re qualified for something as ambitious as self-sabotage.”

He scoffed, but you saw the amusement flicker across his face. “Probably not.” he muttered, his voice dropping to something softer, almost pensive. “I’d mess that one up too.”

His hand shifted, his fingers pressing insistently into the sole of your foot, kneading, coaxing the tension out of you with a subtle, possessive touch. He watched as you shifted under his hands, his gaze steady, challenging. And as his fingers pressed, you pushed back, just enough to test his patience, to feel the resistance in his grip. His eyes darkened, a silent warning in his gaze.

But why would you listen to him?

You pressed harder, a slow, playful pressure against his hand, and he raised an eyebrow. He tightened his grip, his thumb digging in with renewed insistence, letting you feel the full weight of his focus as he worked, as if he could undo more than just the aches in your body, as if he could unearth something deeper in you, something he knew you were holding back.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your cheek as he murmured, “You think you could manage it?”

“What, getting rid of you?” you asked, your tone light, though you could feel the intensity thickening the air between you, wrapping around you like the rain-soaked clothes clinging to your skin.

He tilted his head, his lips curving in that knowing way of his, a slow, calculating smile as his gaze travelled over your face, settling somewhere just beyond your eyes. “Well,” he said softly, “you seem pretty adept at destruction. Thought I’d be spared for a bit.”

His thumb pressed deeper into the arch, his eyes flicking up to watch your reaction, to see if you’d break first, if you’d turn away or push back again. But you held his gaze, the words catching somewhere in your throat, held there.

“That so?” you said, tilting your head as you watched him, your voice low, as if you were offering him something far more dangerous than he was ready for. 

In the dim light of the sitting room, shadows played across his face, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, the unruly hair that fell across his brow, the softness that lingered at the edges of his mouth even as his eyes held that impenetrable gaze. You could feel it gathering, the way the air seemed to hold its breath between you, as if it were waiting for one of you to give in.

But he held steady too, unwavering. He let his hand drift up, his fingers brushing your ankle with a gentle insistence that made you want to shiver. “You don’t want to be in charge of my destruction.” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You like having something to fight against.”

“Oh, do I?” you countered, feeling the pull, feeling the tension draw you closer to him, like a thread strung taut between you both, waiting to snap.

He leaned back, his gaze unreadable, but his hand remained on you, warm and grounding, as if he could keep you tethered to him. “Yeah.” he murmured, a smile just brushing his lips, like he was sharing a private joke with himself. “You love the fight.”

He closed his eyes again, pressing his thumb in one last time, a lingering pressure that seemed to say he knew you better than you’d ever admit, that he saw the dark, hidden corners you tried to keep from him. You felt it – the quiet ache that simmered between you both, like an unhealed bruise, tender and waiting for the next touch.

“So…Poppy-” you began, voice careful, trying to ease into what you wanted to say. The words were still a half-formed thought in your mind, and you were searching for a way to soften them, to bring them up without triggering one of his spiralling, introspective rants that would turn a simple conversation into a storm.

But he interrupted before you’d even figured out how to say it. “What? Did she want me to walk her?” He said it with that same, quiet self-reproach, already trying to shoulder a blame that hadn’t even been cast. That was the way he worked – always a little too ready to bear the weight, to assume that he’d fallen short.

You let out a sigh, more exasperated at the rain than at him. “No, you’re fine, Al.” Your hand slid over his, prying it gently from your foot, which he had clutched a little too tightly. His fingers held on tight before finally releasing, almost reluctant to let go. You pulled your leg back, shuffled into the corner of the couch, and leaned into it, letting your back slump down, finally allowing yourself to sink into the comfort of it. Your feet came up onto the coffee table, as if claiming that little space for yourself, unguarded and tired.

You patted the cushion beside you, a soft, wordless command. “Sit.”

And he did, moving closer, his gaze subdued, that obedient feline quality settling back over him, turning him soft and pliable as he folded himself to rest his head in your lap. His eyes drifted up to the ceiling rather than meeting your own, though you knew he could feel the quiet gravity in your touch, the way your fingers began moving through his hair, each pass aimed towards calming him. The warmth began to seep into your skin, radiating from him, taking the last chill of the rain from your bones.

He lay still, his face turned upward, shadows pooling beneath his eyes as he stared with an intensity that seemed directed at something only he could see. His voice, when it came, was soft, raw, like he was sharing something fragile, something he wasn’t sure you’d want to hear. “I got better, right?” His tone was almost tentative, like he needed the words to land softly, like he was testing their truth. “I know I was…pretty bad at this when she was littler. And I had that whole…thing.”

He trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Those times he’d tried so hard to keep hidden, when the house had felt more like a place you both haunted than lived in. The times when his silences had grown so deep, you worried they might swallow him whole. But he’d pulled through – though not without scars, not without shadows that still lingered.

“And I think…I think I was depressed.” he continued, his voice almost a whisper, as if naming it gave it too much power, as if he could scare it off by speaking it quietly. “But I don’t think I am anymore. I’m better, aren’t I?”

You nodded, letting the gentle motion of your hand convey your answer. You could feel his breath shift, his body relax as he let himself trust in the rhythm of your touch, let himself believe in what he couldn’t see from his place in your lap. “But I just- sometimes I feel like I need a break, you know? Like I need to step back, just for a moment, so I can keep being…better.” He sighed, and it sounded almost like a confession. “I’m sorry you had to go through the rain and everything. I should’ve gone. I’ll take her tomorrow, I promise.”

He promised.

The words hung between you, solid and steady, a commitment you could feel resonating through his voice, through the weight of his head in your lap, through the way his hand drifted to rest on your knee as if he needed something to hold him there. And you knew he meant it, even if you could also feel the fragility in his words, that lingering hesitation, the quiet plea beneath the promise. He was asking you to trust him again, to…believe. In this version of himself, the one that was still trying to figure out how to hold the weight of all the things he’d once tried to escape from.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. Your fingers continued their slow rhythm, threading through his hair, smoothing it, grounding him, answering his unspoken question with each gentle stroke.

The storm outside had settled to a quiet murmur, the rain drumming softly against the window panes. He reached up, his hand curling around yours, guiding it down to his chest, holding it there like he needed you to feel his heartbeat, the steady proof of his presence, of the life he was still fighting for, day by day. The pulse thrummed beneath your fingers, warm and steady and real.

His eyes drifted closed under the weight of his quiet admission. You felt something ease inside you too, some small place that had held itself closed for too long. Maybe you didn’t need words all the time. 

“She wants to get her ears pierced.” you said, finally finishing the thought that had been lingering. You’d been wondering how to say it without sparking one of his reactions, but as soon as the words left your mouth, his head snapped toward you, his face already set with that familiar, stubborn frown.

“No.” he replied flatly, as if the answer were obvious and non-negotiable.

You blinked, not sure whether to laugh or protest. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” you asked, voice edging with challenge, but you could tell by the set of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed that he was digging his heels in. 

“My say is no.” he repeated, his voice low and unyielding, like that was all there was to it. You could tell he was ready to defend his stance, even if he hadn’t thought it through entirely.

Your hand stilled in his hair, and you saw his mouth twitch in offence as he noticed the sudden absence of your touch. “Why’d you stop?” he muttered, almost wounded.

“Maybe my say is yes,” you shot back, leaning into him slightly, challenging him with a small smirk. 

“Well, I don’t want her to.” he answered, sitting up properly now, his full attention at play. His eyes were serious, like he’d decided to double down rather than let this slide.

“You sound like my father.” you retorted, the words slipping out before you’d fully realised what you were saying. The expression on his face faltered for a moment, and he looked almost chastened, but then his defences rose again.

“Oh, come on, don’t say that.” He rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh, though you could tell he didn’t want to come across as unreasonable.

You relaxed back into the couch, giving him a softer look. “She saw mine this morning, you know? She was looking at my nose and asked what it was, and she said she wants pretty earrings in her ears, like some of the girls in her class.” You could still picture Poppy’s face as she’d gazed up at you with wide eyes, all that wonder and excitement. It had surprised you, the way she’d connected that small detail to something she wanted to experience herself.

“I thought you took that out?” he asked, his voice softening as he leaned closer to you, his hand finding its way back to your knee, thumb rubbing circles into the bone. “I always loved your septum ring.”

“I did take it out, but it didn’t close up. This morning, I just thought I’d try, and it went in easily. I’ve been wearing it up-”

“You should wear it again.” he interrupted, his tone softer, and you caught a hint of that wistfulness he never let show. “The silver ring. The thin one. That was my favourite.” 

You shook your head, trying to deflect his sentiment even as you felt yourself soften. “I don’t care what your favourite was.”

“Oh, really?” he said, smiling with that hint of mischief, the edge of his mouth quivering as he tilted his head to look at you, challenging you in his own quiet way. He shifted, closing the space between you, and his gaze held you, pulling you in like it always did, no matter how many times you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t let him win. 

“Okay.” he murmured, as if conceding, but his smile stayed. And as you slid back into the couch, he moved easily, resting his head in your lap again, his body finding its way back to that comfortable position as if he’d never left. His hand came to rest over your knee, anchoring himself there, his eyes glinting with amusement as they drifted back to your nose. 

“I can see it now.” he teased, his voice low and playful as his hand drifted upward, his fingers reaching closer to your nose.

You leaned back, feigning exasperation, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “Don’t stick your fingers up my nose, Alex.” you warned, but the laughter was already threatening to break through.

He chuckled, eyes glimmering with that irrepressible mischief. “Oh, come on.” he said, brushing your hand away with a playful insistence. “I think I’ve stuck myself up enough places inside you for this to not be a problem, babe.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but he was faster, his fingers brushing against your nose, nudging the ring down so it was visible. The small, silver balls glinted beneath your nose, a sudden reminder of a version of you he hadn’t seen in a while.

“There it is.” he whispered, his eyes soft as he took you in, his thumb brushing lightly over the silver ring as if rediscovering something precious. Then a glint of mischief flashed across his face, and he grinned. “Hehe, two little balls hanging…looks familiar.”

You rolled your eyes, amused, exasperated. “Oh my god, Alex. You are so mature.” But you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth, warmth spreading through you as you tried – and failed – to keep a straight face.

He reached up, brushing his thumb over the bridge of your nose. You felt yourself melt slightly as he tilted his head, studying you with those eyes that somehow managed to see past everything.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost shy in a way that felt rare, “you look more like you, with this. Like the you I fell in love with.” His eyes traced your face, lingering over every familiar line and curve. You could feel his hand warm on your leg. “I mean, not that you aren’t you now, but…I don’t know, you look like you’re a little more…alive.”

You felt a flush creeping into your cheeks, not entirely sure what to say. But the honesty in his face held you there, kept you from pulling away as his fingers brushed over the small silver ring again. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his cheek, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. His eyes closed for a moment, savouring the simple contact, and when they opened again, there was a softness there, a vulnerability that he kept hidden from the world but shared with you in quiet moments like these.

“Maybe,” you said softly, fingers still resting against his cheek, “Poppy just wants to feel a little more like herself too. Maybe that’s what this is really about.” You watched him take in your words, saw the faint flicker of realisation cross his face as he thought it over.

He leaned his head back, his eyes gazing up at you with a quiet acceptance, like he was finally willing to meet you halfway. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining, holding you there with him, not pushing or pulling, just resting.

“Maybe…” he murmured, unsteady, as if he was still letting it sink in. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles against your skin. “I just don’t want her to be in pain.” he mumbled, his voice softer now, almost as if he were talking to himself rather than you. His eyes flicked to your nose, and then away again. There was something distant in him, reluctant and protective, like he was working through the idea in real-time.

He finally looked back up at you. “Does it hurt?” he asked, a hint of worry creeping into his voice, as if he were asking for the first time.

“A little.” you admitted, feeling the gentle throb where the ring rested, a reminder of the time it took to heal, of all the small aches that came with wanting something and sticking with it. “But I think she can take it. She’s a big girl now.”

He nodded slowly, but his lips pressed into a thin line, reluctant to fully agree. “Mhm…” he murmured.

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…nothing.” He tried to brush it off, but you caught the way his gaze drifted, a small crease forming between his brows. He looked like he was holding back, wrestling with some unspoken worry.

You waited, giving him space, until he finally let out a soft sigh, his shoulders sinking as he leaned back against the couch. “I know she’s growing up. And I know you think I’m being...old-fashioned, or whatever.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just– she’s so small. So…I don’t know…I don’t want her to be hurt. Or regret it later.”

A slight smile tugged at your lips, and you brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “You realise that’s why they make the small, safe starter studs, right? It’s not like she’s going to get a septum piercing or go full rock and roll in kindergarten. It’s just earrings, Alex.”

He gave you a sheepish, lopsided grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. It’s just…she saw your ring, and suddenly I could see her all grown up, making her own choices, and it just hit me. Feels like I just blinked, and now she’s already asking for things I don’t know how to give her.”

You took his hand, feeling his fingers relax under yours as you squeezed gently. “She’s going to be okay, you know. She’s smart. And stubborn – she’s got that from you." 

“Hey.” he scoffed, pretending to be offended, but his smirk betrayed him. “I’m not stubborn. I just have strong…principles.”

“Right. Principles.” you echoed with a grin, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I think maybe the real problem here is you’re just not ready for her to need things from someone else besides us. She’s growing up, Alex. And it’s going to hurt a little – for all of us. But she’s brave, and we’ve done a good job with her.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands rubbing his face. “I guess…I guess I don’t want to mess it up, you know? She’s…she’s so full of life, and I don’t want her to lose that because of something I say or do.” He looked at you, his eyes soft and uncertain. “I want her to feel like she can be herself. Even if I don't get it, or even if it's something I never would’ve done.”

You nodded, brushing his hair back, letting him feel that you were there. “Then let her be herself. Earrings or no earrings, she’ll still look at you like her hero. The way she always does.”

He smiled at that, a little shy, a little boyish. “You think so?”

“I know so.” you replied, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, watching his face soften as you did. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, you just sat there.

After a beat, he let out a chuckle, low and soft. “Fine. She can get the damn earrings.” he muttered, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face. “But I’m holding her hand the entire time. And I’m not leaving her side, even if it takes all day.”

“Deal.” you replied, your own smile mirroring his. “And afterward, we’ll let her pick out whatever sparkly, obnoxious earrings she wants. Even if they clash with her clothes for a month.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Perfect. And I’ll make sure to tell her how much of a trendsetter she is.” His tone softened, and he took your hand again, holding it tightly. “Thanks for…everything. And for reminding me. It’s easy to forget sometimes, but…I trust you, you know?"

You gave him a gentle smile, squeezing his hand. “Good. Because no matter how big she gets, we’re in this together. For every scraped knee and every new little piercing.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. And there, with his breath mingling with yours, he murmured, “Our little girl. She’s gonna be amazing, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back, certainty settling back over you both. “She already is.”

a/n: pretty boring I guess...but I like it! got the idea from these requests x & x. also I feel like I was channeling @futuristicanoe in this. idk. their fic has been on my mind a lot these days and it seeped into this.

[glassica]

Surprise boyfriend

Notes: M!yan x F!reader, non-con, sexual language, cursing, pregnancy trapping, blackmailing threats

"Hey Y/N, heard you go out with Ray right?"

You spat out the remaining cold brew. You? Go out with whom???

People must've assumed you were into him after seeing your exchanges at the party. But you swear that wasn't that serious at all! You were just fooling around to kill time!

- No. Who told you that?

- Ray posted about you all over his insta. Yeah right you don't use that app... But what do you mean you two aren't dating!?

You took one look at your friend's phone. Lo and behold, countless pictures of you and him holding hands and acting all lovey-dovey like a real couple. Your brain juggled through the hazy memories to see when the selfies were taken but oh dear, you were so drunk off the mind on that night to recall everything.

- Ray, excuse me. Do you have a moment?

- Sweetie I always have time for you. What do baby want from me now? ~

His cheesy line brought shattering earthquakes to your brain. God this man had zero shame, or you had been cursed to carry the embarrassment baggage on his behalf. "If we were alone I'd rip his ass off right instant." - you thought. "And I'll never have time for your goofy ass."

- I believe you misunderstood our relationship. I must've said something deceitful to you during at the party and I'll take responsibility for that. I don't plan to date you or anyone, Ray. I'm so sorry for misleading you.

You spoke in a remorseful tone. Though not able to recollect what nonsense the mouth had blabbered, you felt like owning him an apology regardless. Kids this was why you should never let peer pressure get to you and drink over limits, you never knew if one day you accidentally being entangled with some jackass.

Surprisingly Ray's expression didn't seem to fazed for a bit. On the contrary, the grin on his face got even more ominous and deranged, alerted your sixth sense that nothing coming out from this man was any good: It was a grave mistake involving him in your life.

"My baby wanna break up with me? Oh sweetheart how could you abandon me like that? Have you forgot your little promises to me about love and loyalty? Didn't you say I was your type, that your greatest wish was to be wrapped in my arms every night and showered your body with plenty of kisses?"

Freak. Weirdo. Creep.

How could anyone breath in the same direction of this guy and not get their skin crawled for a second? You were both amused and pissed off witnessing this whole circus show, wondering how out mind you were last Friday to be attracted to this walking joke of a man.

Get this over quickly, or you would end up committing some atrocities on that stupid face.

"I wasn't sober at the time. I must've been spewing rubbish. I'm really sorry for lying to you Ray, but can you please take down those pictures?"

"Why should I? I need to show off everyone my Sweetie's already taken, so that no one could touch you. Besides," - Ray tucked his head over your shoulder, the eerily off-putting grin grew even wider as he whispered softly to your ears, "those pics aren't the only proof of our unshakable bond."

He trailed off, calmly put a hand on your belly.

Your mind went blank.

"BITCH! YOU FUCKING RAPED ME!?"

"Now now. You hurt my heart, Sweetie. How could you accuse me of such heinous crime when all I did so much to give you such good time on bed? And don't lie, your pussy was cumming hard for my crotch. I still can recall those pretty little buds-"

Just then, Ray felt a burning heat on his left cheek. You were done. Completely dropped off manners. Eyes flaming with disgust and resentment while both hands clenching fist furiously, you became a wild animal determined to chew off its prey to the bone. You didn't care about anything else, any consequences after, your absolute goal at the moment was to tear this asshole to shreds.

But Ray was infuritatingly nonchalant, cocky even. He wasn't bothered for a bit when facing your wrath. Rubbing hand on the reddish cheek, he continued:

"Don't you believe you can brush your hand away from me, love. I don't like anyone seeing my angel in her purest form, but I have no problem releasing those clips."

A sadistic chuckle let out of his mouth observing the bloodthirst drained out from your face. If you didn't want him as your prince, then he wouldn't hesitate becoming the big bad villain tainting your life forever.

Ray caught your lifeless body in a loving embrace, just like that Friday night, and many more nights in the future.

[calxprince]

❀ LOVE, OR THE LACK THEREOF (2)

. . . a kabru x gender neutral reader story

# Chapter 2 : Stupidity is The Key to Happiness. You were Plenty Stupid— Just Not Happy

# genre : multiple parts. breakup angst. reader can't move on for the life of them.

# notes : click here for the masterlist

4370 words

. . . in which god has just currently decided that you're going to be his strongest soldier today and give you his toughest battles, and you can't do shit about it.

I mean, who else wouldn't freak out after finally seeing their ex again? Especially when you only find him and his party as corpses lying on the cold dungeon floor, lined up like meat in the produce section. All stiff and mildly damp.

FUCK, HE’S STILL SO HANDSOME—no, perhaps even more so now? You feel a bead of sweat form as you bite down on the inside of your cheek, staring at Kabru’s unconscious body sprawled on the cold, concrete floor. He was ominously peaceful, with his eyelids closed and his hair messed up as it pushed against the wall. It dragged your heart by its heartstrings, bringing in strange wave of nostalgia.

You recall the messy sheets, his cheek pressed up against your pillows— the curls in his hair handsomely framing his face.

It was as if a prince had just stumbled into your home and fallen into a deep slumber in your dingy bed.

A familiar warmth crept up on your cheeks, followed by a small smile you couldn’t hold back. However, you took a fist straight to the middle of your chest— leaving you winded as you tried to punch away the looming melancholy feeling creeping up.

You decide to look in a different direction and drive your attention away. If you could withstand not seeing him for years, you can surely do it again this time.

Your eyes scan the rest of the party, and you notice an unfamiliar figure among them. Your hands unwittingly clench down on your staff— the natural grooves of the wood digging into your skin, bound to leave a significant indent into the palms of your hands. The sensation rivaling the gruesome battle in your mind, grieving the person you were before finding out. The mere presence of the stranger left a bitter taste in your mouth, turning a switch in your mind as you fell into a dangerous spiral.

It's just like they say, fuck around and find out.

And you have, in fact— fucked around and found out.

It was like a jagged, serrated dagger twisting around in an old wound; like a thousand needles had just poked you like a bad acupuncture therapy attempt. Your mouth felt dry, and each muscle and bone felt like it held up the weight of the heavens and sky itself. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t even run no matter how much you yearned to do so.

You start to consider showing up at the door of the Touden siblings, begging the sister to exorcise the bad spirit that was probably haunting you— cursing you with horrible luck.

You had spent thousands of nights tangled in the sticky spider web of your fears and doubts. About 1826 nights, to be exact (Maybe? You’re not sure). The thoughts of the future had been eagerly gnawing at your sanity, flooding your worrying mind with questions like:

‘Is he thinking of me right now? Does he even think about me anymore?’

‘Is he living a happier life without me?’

‘Has he replaced me already?’

It was that last question.

That stupid question that haunted your mind at least 5 times a day.

You already knew what the answer would probably be. You were completely and utterly convinced that it would be a breeze to handle if you were to find out and that you had moved on. which was the biggest and most delusional lie you had ever told yourself. But you don’t like to dwell on that thought much.

Being stupid was probably one of the keys to happiness, and you were plenty stupid— just not happy.

But God, no amount of dread and nail-biting anxiety could ever prepare you for the actual answer. The painful reality that just slaps you in the face stabs you at least 30 times in each of your vital organs— and completely shatters every bit of your almost non-existent hope.

It’s quite a reach, especially when the girl is literally lying unconscious on the floor unable to even move a finger. But she might as well have killed you at this point just doing absolutely nothing, with the amount of pain she’s putting you through— purely just due to her existence.

It was as if Thor had just thrown his hammer at you, digging into your toes with little to no hope of escape. No amount of desperate tugging could set you free. Who the hell even is Thor? You question, you shrug it off.

‘Ways to Get Back with Kabru—Idea number 25: Run back and work as their mage again if they still have a vacant spot… I better cross that out later.’

Maybe most questions should be left unanswered, you should’ve turned back 15 minutes ago. You should’ve run back up to the surface and continued to live your life in ignorant bliss. The naïve past seemed much kinder than the truth of the future.

There was a hazy, strange sense of satisfaction that hung over your heart. However, the painful drilling sensation in your stomach seemed to drown it out— the rising feeling of dread and regret filling like a thick liquid in your lungs that you can’t cough out.

With deliberate steps, you approach the unknown body, lowering yourself to kneel beside the new individual. She was beautiful, as much as you hated to admit it. You quickly tugged at your hair, pushing it out of the way of your eyes. Maybe to see better, maybe out of pure insecurity.

Your lips press into a thin line. She had slick, luscious black hair— you even start to consider asking her for her hair care routine after (which was stupid of you to think, so you flick that thought to the back of your mind.) Her sleek figure was complimented by her simple medium-length frayed red dress. Her facial structure made you guess that she came from the east, and her lack of other special features— she’s also a tall man.

You pout, squeezing your eyes tight as you feel the tight rope of jealousy tugging at your neck. Maybe, it would’ve been much easier to skim over the existence of your replacement if she hadn’t been so beautiful. Maybe if her face was full of warts, or maybe if she was a toad that you had picked up from the well in your house— the blow would’ve been less impactful.

Scratch that. The frogs that resided in the well were incredibly cute. But would Kabru know that she turned into a frog? You began to backtrack on that thought, fighting against the itch in your hand to start flipping through your grimoire to find a spell to turn people into frogs.

It had instructions on how to use a dog to harvest a singular mandrake, so why the hell wouldn’t it have a spell on turning people into frogs?

But then, you dwelled on the thought of the curse being able to be lifted by a kiss. The image of Kabru kissing a frog, in a complete fairytale-esque love story scene— it was enough for you to abandon the idea again.

He would be the type to do such a thing, even if he hated every minute of it.

He would probably even eat monsters out of pure righteousness and pushover people-pleaser politeness if someone asked him to—at least just a bite.

…

Maybe you should start putting those fairytale books down or donate them to the local village library, it would fix your problem of outrageous delusions.

So instead of planning your path to evil, you began wishing and praying to whatever god is currently listening to you— if there even is any.

‘Please, please, please. God, or… whoever is out there. I’d even accept it if the Mad Mage is the one tuning in. Please erase this girl from existence.’ You begged, but you felt a pang of guilt crash into your heart. You peek with one eye, staring at her peaceful face once again— You squeeze your eyes shut once more and re-clasped your hands together to reset your prayer. If that even works, it probably doesn’t…

‘Actually, disregard that… That was rude. Kind of. She probably doesn’t deserve it… Just please, don’t have any personal relationship with Kabru.’ You mutter under your breath, feeling a bit of the weight come off your shoulders. It was as if you had shooed away the annoying spirit haunting you with bad luck, or at least you had hoped you did.

Your hands pushed against your bent knees, assisting you as you stood back up. Which drives you into yet another dilemma. With the amount of writing and overthinking you had just done, you had completely forgotten that they were all lying dead on the floor.

You sulk by the wall, feeling the rocky surface leaving indents on your forehead. You curse at the wind. You were not God’s strongest soldier; he should not be giving you the toughest battles. You sigh, whittling down your options into 3.

You walk away from this place and run back to the surface. Possibly seek therapy and hit your head just enough times to forget whatever you had just discovered in this dungeon. Quit dungeon exploring to completely cut off all possibilities of ever encountering Kabru and his party ever again. Get a normal job and live your life in ignorant bliss.

2. You continue onwards but be sure to bless their corpses to ensure their safety until they get retrieved by the corpse revival company— or possibly scammed by that other resurrection company. Or maybe even saved by some other random guy somewhere, who knows? Leave strands of your hair around their wrists and spray your signature scent around them; fully aware that Kuro could sniff you out in mere seconds (which was the plan.) It leaves them knowing you were there but gives them the edge that you didn’t bother to help them, even though they know that you’re fully capable of doing so.

3. Be an idiot, who out of goodwill and righteousness— revives the party and allows you to make yourself known as the unfortunate victim and hero who had stumbled across them. This gives room to analyze and dissect the relationship between the new girl and Kabru, and even a chance to converse and interact with your old party. This may urge Kabru to be aware of your existence if he has already forgotten (you hope not). Make him bow down on his knees, head touching the floor as he begs you to join him and his party again.

And of course, you chose to be an idiot.

You had already made so many bad decisions for fate to put you in this position, so why don’t you push it to its limits? Plus, you had already been doing this whole revival business to earn gold by farming corpses of fallen adventurers within the higher levels. You don’t scam them at least.

You need to think this over first. You can’t revive everyone at once, even if you wish you did at this moment. You tuck your chin in between your index finger and thumb, carefully planning out how you can carry this out with a high success rate and a low rate of embarrassing yourself in front of your ex.

You couldn’t possibly revive Kabru first, since you’d have to swallow down the thick tension that forms in the air while he stares at you reviving the rest of his party. It would leave too much room for conversation (if there was any), and too little room for your swift escape. So, he’s reserved for last place for now.

The new girl… You should sandwich her in the middle. It’s best to revive someone you know first, so they don’t end up freaking out at your random appearance. But you can’t squeeze her right before Kabru, it’ll probably spawn some weird first impressions between the two of you. You’ll put someone else in between him and her, so she can just get the gist that you were just trying to help.

Holm should be first. He’s the calmer one of the party and is a lot closer to you than the rest of the party. It would be a bit weird seeing an old friend that suddenly ran out of your life and having them be the first thing you see after waking up… You have to clear that up with him if Kabru hadn’t already told him about what happened between the two of you. He would also probably help you with reviving, which will help you cut down on the time.

Mickbell will be revived right after, giving you a chance to calm him down before proceeding with the girl— who will probably ostracize you on the spot if he suddenly bursts into tears, or just makes a scene. Kuro… will be right after Mickbell, which will help you in the cause of calming him down.

Daya will be the unfortunate shield? Cushioning? Between Kabru and the girl. You were somewhat close to her, so she would probably understand your cause right away. She’s an innocent soul.

‘If he asks… I’ll just say I do it as a form of work.’ You whisper, kneeling towards Holm. You analyze his body, keeping a sharp eye out for any major injuries. You pick up his arm gently, holding it up in the air before letting it go— It falls limp.

‘He’s out cold…’ Your eyebrows furrow, making eager work of brushing off any bit of dust or debris off him. None of them seemed to have any weak soul bonds or missing limbs.

Your hand meets his chest, lying directly on top of his heart as you begin your ritual. You feel your mana coursing through your veins, like a cold shot of flowing water. Your fingertips felt a gentle tingle, like pins pricking them— enough to poke through the skin but not enough to draw blood.

Warmth spread through his body, feeling your heartbeat synch with his as it began to beat at a steady pace. Holm’s body staggers, as blood rushes through— his muscles moving on their own, just from pure muscle memory. As you felt his body heat return to normal healthy temperatures, your fingers eagerly swiped against his forehead. Your index finger is digging and pressing into the skin between his two eyebrows.

He woke up with a start, eyes wide and chest heaving. If he wasn’t already freaked out by his sudden consciousness, he was even more freaked out by your appearance. His jaw drops, gaze wavering as he looks at you as if you had just come back from the dead (even if he was the one that just did.)

You stare back at him, oblivious and aloof of the internal battles he is currently fighting in his mind. His mouth sputters, eager to voice out his mind— however, it lacks the voice, and the proper mind and muscle articulation.

“Are you okay?” you question, your tone drawn out and unsure. Your mind was currently reeling, as you slowly began to be filled with regret. Would he mind if you just ran away right now? You’re hesitant to engage in conversation with him, fully convinced that he is seconds away from lashing out at you.

”Y/N ? ? “ He shouted, his voice echoing around the entirety of the hollow dungeon floor. He slaps a hand over his mouth, coughing as he regains his composure. A feint pink dusted over his cheeks, embarrassed by his sudden outburst. You flinch slightly, squeezing your eyes for a second so you could brace yourself for whatever he was about to say.

Holm backtracks for a moment, leaning in towards you in a state of curiosity.

“Y/N .. ?” He whispered, questioning your existence. His voice filled with disbelief and wonder, secretly pinching himself as he pondered if this was a dream or not.

“It’s me.” You smile, a sense of warm familiarity filling your heart as you stare back at him. A quick rush of joy and excitement drowning out your worries, as you meet up with your old friend. You spread your arms out slightly, and he takes the opportunity to capture you in a tight embrace. It finally brought back that sense of belongingness as you reconnect together as friends, one that you had forgotten the feeling of.

You have grown accustomed to the fast pace of your life, meeting and seeing faces but never finding them again. Your fear of attachment only grew as a sense of loneliness was chained to your foot like a weight of punishment. You pass by thousands of faces, thousands of people who carry their heavy burdens and stories— Yet, you still live life alone.

“I thought I’d never see you again” He sighed, patting your back as he pulled away. You could read him like an open book, he was a simple person. You could feel a sudden rush of relief flow through him, as his worrying mind cleared within seconds. However, your sudden gleeful moment was interrupted when he suddenly punched you straight in the gut.

“Ack— !” He’s not much of a fighter, so it was weak— since he was mostly kidding. But he did go for a sensitive area, so you hunch over in pain.

“You’re such a dummy you know. You left without a word, and I haven’t seen you in five years. Five years! That’s half a decade!” He grumbled, judgmental as always. You rub the area he punched to soothe the pain, as you laugh dryly. However, his expression softens at the sight of you.

“I know… Hasn’t Kabru told you why?” You tilt your head, fixing up your posture. At this point, you’re on a self-sabotage spree. You should’ve probably kept that question unsaid, knowing that you’re just leading yourself into a whole new world of hurt by finding answers to questions that should be left unanswered.

“No… He only showed us your resignation paper, then never spoke of you ever again.” Holm pouted, rubbing down the back of his neck.

He never told them.

He never spoke of you again.

You were seconds away from curling up, falling to the floor, and dying right then and there. You had to hold back every cell in your body from begging Holm to bring out his undine and put you out of your sad, sad misery.

Your expression remained blank; your lips pursed as you tried to keep yourself from spiraling again. You practice a couple of breathing exercises, digging the nails of your fingers into the palm of your hand. It’s possibly not too late to turn back, Holm could probably handle all the resurrecting.

“Right… How did the rest of the party take it?” Your voice is drawn out, deciding to rip off yet another bandage off the wound. If the party didn’t react nicely to the news, you’d probably get chewed out immediately— just to confirm whether or not you should continue with your plan or run away.

“… Not that well. We basically stopped adventuring for a week straight, since Kabru completely locked himself up ever since then. We all kind of freaked out a bit, though— Kabru seemed to have sucked it up and gathered all of us up again to go mage hunting to complete our party. Mickbell was against replacing you and was somewhat insistent on dragging you back. But Kabru stopped him, he wasn’t mad per se— Just scary looking.”

Okay, you need to stop asking questions that could lead back to Kabru— noted.

“Anyways, what happened to you guys?” You changed the topic, gaze averting towards the huge body of water in the middle of the dungeon. You had noticed that their clothes were slightly damp, but you didn’t necessarily question it.

”As far as I remember, we got attacked by a bunch of violent mermen. Which is weird, given that it isn’t common for them to be near the surface of the water… It’s usually just bladefish.” He mumbled, deep in thought as he stared at the eerily now calm waters.

“Right… Would you be okay with helping me revive everyone? You can take..., the new girl and Kuro. I’ll take on Mickbell, Daya, and… Kabru.” You stared at him with pleading eyes, offering to take on the odd number of corpses— Just so you don’t drain him of his mana too fast since he had just recently come back to life.

“Oh… The new girl. Her name is Rin by the way, she’s a bit blunt and standoffish when it comes to new people. So don’t feel too offended when she criticizes you…” Holm smiles sheepishly, though agreeing to take on your offer. You spring up into a stand immediately, offering a hand towards him— which he eagerly accepts.

You both make your way to your respective assigned corpses— Though the speed at which you both were doing it made you feel more and more dread as time passed. Your mind was blurring together the current happenings, not truly processing the moment.

Mickbell wasted no time in shouting, punching your legs as if any form of violence would undo your long period of absence. You didn’t take any significant notes on what he said, as his actions only translated into an irritated cat that was begging for more food.

However, you ran your fingers through his hair— which ultimately silenced his aggressive yammering. You pat his head gently, just like you always would back then. His expression mellowed out, hugging your leg as he cursed your name in the wind. He doesn’t like being treated like a kid, but he lets you just this once.

He lets go of you (reluctantly), after realizing that everyone else was knocked unconscious. He stands off to the side, stretching out his limbs and doing a quick inventory check— just to steer clear out of your way.

Rin had been revived shortly after Mickbell was, which rendered her completely and utterly confused at your foreign appearance. As well as Mickbell’s sudden affectionate behavior and outburst. She stares back at Holm, slightly bewildered at the sight— the look on her face begging him for any sort of explanation.

Holm only explains your presence briefly, mentioning your closeness and familiar bond with the party. He doesn’t bother explaining your relationship with Kabru, saving you from any sort of random rivalry with her. Rin only hums in response, the gears in her mind turning as she analyzes you from afar.

She played with her hair, twirling it around as she stared. Completely oblivious of your brain-shattering nervousness as you realized she was awake.

You felt the need to flex or one-up her. You wanted to show her your sheer amount of power and give her an excellent first impression.

Was it to impress her? Was it to make her feel envy and Jealousy? You don’t know, probably both.

You’re still not sure about making her a friend or an enemy. So you decide to lean more into the friend category.

However, all thoughts of her quickly dissipated as your gaze met Kabru’s body on the floor. You tense up, realizing that there’s unfortunately no more escape from your demise. You try to cough up the thick sense of nervousness from your throat, as an insatiable itch begins to dance all over the inside of your body.

There was a sick sense of familiarity as you kneeled and placed a hesitant hand onto his chest. You felt a wave of nausea override all of your rational thoughts, as the palm of your hand seemed to fit that one area of his chest like a puzzle piece. Your expression turns soft, while your body stiffens, and you find it difficult to move. It left a sickly bitter taste in your mouth.

Being close to him like this, didn’t fill your heart with the same glee as you had fantasized. Instead, seeing him again made you feel immense amounts of dread— a seething anger igniting a long rope tied to a bomb of anger. As much as you had idolized him throughout the years, finally seeing him again made the coin flip over on the dirty side.

The reality settled in like getting hit by a car, the adrenaline carrying through before you crash. His face only made you feel pure unbridled rage, how dare he live his life and fall into a slumber as peaceful as this— when you spent thousands of sleepless nights all because of him.

You had never wished for a viler amount of karma towards anyone until now.

Your hand pushed down with more force than necessary, forcing out the mana flow as you healed him with pure negative thoughts buzzing around in your head. You felt yourself seeing red, as you felt his heart begin to beat to a steady rhythm.

That same soft and slow beat that would lull you to sleep each night. Once you had even promised him that there was no other music that even the greatest musician could compose— would compare to the sound of his beating heart.

You bite your tongue back from cursing his name out, taking a deep breath to brush off the suddenly blinding anger. ‘I need to give off a good impression.’ You mumble, relaxing your muscles and the scowl on your face.

Your hands hesitate to meet with his forehead, your touch fleeting as you push against the pressure point in his forehead. Your fingertips lightly intercepted with his hair— which made you confused on whether you wanted to run your fingers through it again or bash his face into the ground. Maybe both.

Your hand quickly leaves his face, eyes unwavering of its stare.

Usually, you would kiss his forehead instead of using the pressure point method. You blink away the unwarranted memory, watching as he stirs awake. You remain seated by his side, making sure to be there if ever he has any side effects that would come with his resurrection.

Kabru groans, rubbing his eyes away from sleep. However, he seemed to have woken up immediately as he recognized your scent. His eyes shot open, as his head snapped to turn towards you— which did not fail to scare you. As you suddenly lean backwards, completely flabbergasted by his current expression.

Kabru mumbles your name under his breath.

Oh fuck.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Agnus Dei - Kaz Brekker x Grisha!Reader

[vulgar language, unresolved grief]

SUMMARY: When one of his Crows is revealed to be a Grisha on the run from the Black General, Kaz needs to make a decision: their lives or hers?

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3.2k

[PART 2 RIGHT HERE]

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist&lt;<

Everything is going according to plan: the guards didn’t change their routes, the vault was where it was supposed to be, the lock combination Inej acquired worked, the necklace and documents were inside. And yet, you can’t help but feel that something is off as though you have forgotten a pair of socks when packing for a trip - a detail small and unimportant, while capable of making a substantial difference. Like an itch you can’t quite scratch.

A tremor shakes the manor down to its foundations. Dust and pebbles fall off the ceiling in an ominous cloud. Overhead crystal chandelier rings as the small gems clatter against one another.

Blyat.

There it is. 

“What was that?” Jesper asks an octave higher than he normally would have.

“The dynamite must have compromised the stability of the building,” Kaz says as his eyes trail the cracks forming along one of the walls. “We need to leave.”

“Are you saying-”

“Crushed to death, Jes,” you cut him off.

“Why can’t you ever give me a nice surprise? It’s always death and injury.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “Do I look like Ded Moroz?”

Jesper gives you a childish, playful smile. “I wish you did.”

“Come on,” Inej impatiently rushes the two of you. “You can biker when we’re out.”

Everyone follows Kaz, who weaves and turns through the palace corridors as though he knows them like the back of his hand. Considering how much time he had spent staring at the blueprints, it might well be true.

The tremors only grow in strength and frequency. The low hum of crumbling foundations is interrupted by the heavy, rushed footsteps of the guards. You are yet to run into them but considering they thunder somewhere above your heads, it’s only a matter of time before you look down the barrels of their muskets.

You jump to the side when a boulder falls next to you, a mere inch from crushing you. The muskets have to wait.

It’s hard to walk straight when the ground is shaking so much. Pieces of the ceiling and upper floors have you weaving and running into whatever hasn’t fallen yet.

“We won’t make it out in time!” you yell over the noise of crushing foundations and an avalanche of rubble coming your way.

“We will!” Kaz yells back. You’re unsure who he’s trying to convince more: himself, you or the decaying building. “Just go!”

“The entire ceiling’s coming down!” Another block of stone falls in your vicinity, throwing dust and ground bricks into the air. The flecks claw at your throat as you cough. Your eyes burn. “We need to find cover!”

Brekker stops. He lifts his head to look at the cracked bricks above the four of you. In the cloud of dust and refracted, dim light, you notice his face losing colour. 

“Hide!” he interposes. Jesper and Inej waste no time curling up underneath tables and fallen shelves.

You’re almost under a desk, sheltered from the rubble about to fall on your head but something stops you from seeking safety - sudden confusion at your own actions. The realization creeps up on you, making you surprised that at some point you really have forgotten that you don’t have to hide from overgrown pebbles and crushed chandeliers; at some point, you have truly believed the lie you’ve been telling everyone for so many years.

Time seems to slow down as you stare at the crumbling ceiling. You don’t breathe, your heart doesn’t beat. Just the rubble above you and the ringing in your ears. Something tingles in your fingertips when you absentmindedly rub them together.

Do it.

Your thoughts float towards the three Crows. Sure, they’re criminals but do they deserve to die for that? Should they perish, so you can take your secret to the grave? Casualties of war they didn’t wage?

Do it.

Perhaps this day was always coming.

Jesper pushes his head further between his knees, awaiting the final blow. But it doesn’t come. Hyperventilating and confused more than ever, he opens his eyes. The floor is covered with dust and pieces of bricks. Maybe he’s already suffered brain damage or maybe those pebbles and shards really were floating an inch above the ground.

“What in-” he whispers to himself.

The dust collecting in his lungs throws him into a coughing fit. He manages to get on his knees and stand up holding the desk he’d been sitting under. Jesper’s eyes meet Kaz and Inej, who appear just as confused at the fact that they’re still alive. Even more - not a stone threatened their well-being.

Inej suddenly gasps, vaguely pointing away from the three of them. The men’s gazes follow her hand right to the tip of her finger and that’s when they see it:

You’re standing a few meters away from their hiding spots, hands lifted over your head as though you were lifting something. Boulders and falling furniture hang mid-air, stopped by a mysterious violet flame pushing them away from the floor. With a small hop to the side, you swing your hands, making the rubble fly across the already-ruined hall. The remnants crush against the wall, breaking into smaller pieces before settling on the ground. Not a wrinkle, not even a bead of sweat runs down your skin when you turn around to look at them with guilt and apology painted all over your face.

Jesper is the first to break the silence of flabbergast:

“What was that?”

Inej stares at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly agape. "You're Kosomova.” It’s a statement, not a question. She seems to still be deciding between awe and disbelief. “The Lost Dynasty of Sankt Mikhail."

"What's dormant is not lost, Inej,” you say while awkwardly rubbing your hand. There’s no point in lying anymore. “It's just hidden."

You feel his stare boring into you but you don’t dare meet his eye. Just like this beautiful manor, the foundation of his trust has crumbled. It’s hard to estimate the damage and the prospect of whether it is possible to raise the palace once more. Perhaps he’s silent for now but you know this knot must be untied; a cast-aside viper always slithers back to bite.

The boulders and furniture you threw at the wall have breached it in a rather impressive manner. You can leave and disappear in the crowd before the guards even get to this part of the building. There is something positive to barely escaping death, after all.

"Mikhail?” Jesper repeats, his eyebrows furrowed. Walking through a gaping hole in the wall, he squints his eyes when daylight hits his face. “As in Mikhail the Unbowed? Didn't the Black General issue a bounty on his whole bloodline?"

"And it keeps growing every year or so,” you say indifferently while dusting the flecks of bricks and stone off your dark clothes. “Honestly, I'm kind of flattered he thinks I'm worth seven figures in Kruge."

People of Ketterdam stop by, look at the palace and then at you, only to shrug and carry on with their daily lives. Something about the malice residing in the air of this city makes everyone aloof to the plight of others. Most of the time you think of this tendency as wretched and heartless but today you can’t be grateful enough. Soon, all four of you are part of the uninterested, grey crowd flooding the cobbled streets. 

“But why?" Jesper coaxes, "What did you do?”

“I control gravity, making me a catalyst for any summoner,” you answer quietly in case someone can hear your conversation.

“Make or break the Fold,” Inej interjects.

“Probably, yeah.”

But his curiosity is not satiated just yet: “He already has the Sun Summoner. What does he want with you?”

Suddenly, you stop walking and Jesper almost runs into you. You look at your friend with a morbid seriousness he has never seen from you before.  “A man as ambitious as him will not stop at the Fold. He could turn the whole world into his own empire with me and the Sun Summoner at his service. Mountains will bow before him, oceans will separate so he can pass. No one should have that power.” Your gaze lowers, too ashamed to meet any of the faces staring hard at you. “Make arrangements to flee Ketterdam,” you interpose before taking a few steps backwards. A turn, a rushed step, a rounded corner and suddenly you’re gone as though you were never there.

The stairs creak under someone’s weight. Irregular footsteps grow steadily louder until you hear a soft whine of the hinges as the guest pushes your door open. 

"You're leaving."

Hearing Kaz’s voice makes you stop in your tracks for a second, hands filled with clothes and trinkets hover right above the bag. A sting in your chest, that you wave away; you can’t get hung up on your feelings, not now. Not when they inevitably lead to tears.

"Once the news travels across the Fold, the Black General will be here in no time,” you say without looking at him. With a newfound will to get away as quickly as you can, you continue packing up a lot faster than you did before. “Promise me that you will do everything to survive that. Sell me out, I don't care. Just promise me you will be fine."

"When were you going to tell me, Kosomova?"

Surprised, you drop the utility belt you were about to toss on top of the heap of clothes already in the bag. The hint of angry disappointment, a bitter betrayal, in his voice makes your heart break.

You give him a quick glance, only to pick up the belt and resume packing as though you’re absolutely fine with this strange situation.

"Please, don't call me that, Kaz.” No matter how unbothered you want to seem, he’s a bit too observant not to notice the pleading tone hiding between words.

"It’s your name."

You let out a sigh. Standing up and straightening your back, you finally dare to divert most of your attention to him. Face-to-face, as befits something between companions and colleagues.

"I haven't been Kosomova in over a decade. The life I lead and the people I'm grateful to love, I've done all of this as Zavrazhny. So that is my name.” Your eyes escape his face for a moment when you feel embarrassed at your own naivety. “And I wasn't going to tell you. Ever.” Awkwardly rubbing your arm, you look at him once more. To your own horror, his expression doesn’t falter, stuck in this indifferent frown he wears most of the time. What is he thinking about? “It was stupid of me to think I could actually escape my ancestry but a girl can dream."

Too ashamed to look at his face any longer, your gaze falls to the floor. Maybe this day was always coming. 

You fasten the bag and throw it over your shoulder. It’s grown heavy since the last time, pulling you down with the weight of both your useless souvenirs and the memories they hold. Some of them you can probably sell for a nice price, earning you a night of rest on something better than a haystack.

When you’re about to walk past Kaz and out of your room, surely to disappear from Ketterdam and resurface on the other side of the world with a new name and backstory, he suddenly lifts his cane in front of you. Frustrated, you look at the symbolic blockade and only then at him.

Turning his head to the side to look at you, his gaze appears even angrier than before. "You are not going anywhere,” Kaz nearly grits through his teeth.

Why won’t he just let you go?

Your voice is equally low when you answer him. "This isn't the bloody time to play broody and bossy, Kaz. I'm endangering the entirety of Ketterdam with my presence, I'm-...” you stop yourself from finishing the sentence, wondering if you really want to float along this wave of honesty. He slightly lifts his eyebrows, egging you to continue. Your voice is suddenly very quiet, as though you’re afraid someone else might hear you too. “I'm putting you at risk. And I can't have that."

"Have you any idea how much I have invested in you?" The stress he puts on the word is odd as though there is a hidden meaning behind it - one he can’t quite make himself say outright. You feel your chest tighten at the realization. It’s not a monetary value he’s speaking of. No, it’s something he’s too afraid to name correctly even inside his own head. "You're staying here, even if I have to make you."

You shake your head. "I don't want everyone sticking out their necks for me. It's not worth dying for. I'm not worth dying for. Save yourself, Kaz. This is not your fight."

"If it’s you the Black General is after, it is my fight."

His intense gaze makes you break out a flustered smile. "You have a very strange way of saying you care about me, you know?"

Reprieving your decision to flee, you toss the bag back on your bed. Kaz follows your movements with a questioning look on his face as you drop onto the chair by your working table. He thinks the scattered papers on your desk and notes pinned to the wall are very befitting - mind working faster than a steam train, albeit slightly chaotic.

For a moment you’re not saying anything. Slouched and with a vacant look in your eyes, your whole persona just screams defeat. None of the three Crows has seen you like this before, making you realize that this unusual demeanour is going to change a lot on its own. Once shown vulnerability can never be taken back, for the better or worse.

"I’ve never told you how I got here in the first place, have I?" you ask. Kaz catches your gaze once more, only to realise something about it has changed. The fire that once resided inside you is nowhere to be found, its place taken by something chilling and haunting. "Around a decade ago, the Black General caught wind of my family. We knew he was coming. One day, my mother packed all of my belongings and told me to leave. I won't ever forget that look on her face - the anger, the shame, the guilt…” Unknowingly, you raise your eyebrows and shake your head slightly. As grief’s fangs gnaw at you, her face appears before your eyes like a mirage; someone’s reflection on the surface of disturbed waters. “She grabbed my shoulders and said 'Forget your pedigree. You have to go out there, see the world, live how you want and be who you want. This family has suffered enough.' So I did. I didn't hear from her ever again. When I was boarding a ship from Novokribirsk to Ketterdam, I overheard the sailors talking about a slaughtered village in the woods. And I knew…” You take in a ragged breath, feeling emotions flooding your head. Even after a decade, this wound hurts just the same. “I knew I couldn't go back. There was nothing to go back to, so I moved forward. It was the only direction left."

It’s too late. You can’t stop it. Tears sting your eyes and you look away from Kaz, grasping at the serious and professional demeanour you’re so desperate to keep. Alas, it has escaped your shaky hands.

A sob violently shakes your body. You have to cover your mouth with your hand to stop the sounds of agony from reaching his ears.

“She died alone, Kaz,” you whisper in a weak voice. Anguish clenches your throat, making you unable to breathe for a moment. Tears stream down your face, salty taste on your tongue. “Rotting in the middle of the woods because there was no one to bury her. Abandoned.”

“If you were there, you would have died, too.” His tone is strangely gentle but you don’t notice it at the moment.

He grips his cane tighter when you look at him with red, glossy eyes. “You can’t know that.”

“Then the Black General would kill your mother just to get to you.”

“Maybe he’d spare her if I agreed to go with him. Or I would have killed him.” You take in a deep although ragged breath, trying to calm yourself down. Kaz wishes he could do something. With the sleeve of your coat, you wipe your face. “She died because I ran, didn’t she? So, maybe if I stay… Maybe I have a chance at redemption.”

“Her death wasn’t your fault.”

Your eyes snap back to his face. They’re still red but not sad anymore. No, something strange clouds them, something Kaz sees only when he looks in the mirror. “But yours will be if I don’t get my shit together. I can’t just keep running. It’s not who I want to be.”

“If you kill General Kirigan you will be running for the rest of your life.”

“I’ll be doing it anyway. Might as well earn the right to the name Kosomova.”

Suddenly, you rummage through the plethora of pockets you have in your layers of clothing. Something gold glints between your fingers but it’s so quick he can’t even begin to guess what you’re holding in your palm when you offer it to him.

“Kaz, I want you to have something. Just in case anything happens to me.”

You open your hand to reveal an antique pocket watch. It looks worn out, a thin layer of verdigris discolouring the keepsake. Golden coating lost its shine and the decorative engravings are nearly completely smoothed out as though someone had been rubbing its surface. For good luck, perhaps. Although barely visible, three cursive letters on the front are still legible: K. M. V. 

Kosomov Mikhail Victorovich

Kaz takes the pocket watch, for a moment examining your face in detail. Do you not expect to survive the Black General? Or perhaps this is a token of your trust if not affection? 

He gently presses the button on top of the watch and the lid pops open. On the right side is the face of a clock but the hands aren’t moving. Judging by the engraving on the front, the watch has to be several centuries old, making it impossible to say when exactly the mechanism has given out. His gaze follows to the other side of the keepsake, where a message was crudely carved out with something sharp: Я ранен был, но не упал.

“I was wounded but didn’t fall,” you quote. “It’s a family motto.”

Kaz closes the watch with a loud clasp. His gaze returns to you and for a moment you think there’s a shadow of dread dancing across his irises. Then his face turns nearly into a scowl. What fine smithing it really is, to reforge affection into anger.

“Make sure you stick to it,” he orders while stuffing the keepsake in his pocket. “We need a plan.”

“How much time do you think we have?”

“A week at most.”

A half-smile crooks your lips. “Then let’s make it count.”

______

Yes, there will be part 2.

[rainforestakiie]

Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer part 02

hello! here is the second part of @inubaki's request! i hope you like it! i also adore the artworks you made for part 01! they were amazing! i loved how you were able to make them just as i pictured in my head! ah!

'A Priest observing that one of fathers in his charge seems to be heavily distracted by something no one else can see. Father Adam had come to them young, an unwanted fourth child to a Nobel family hoping to gain the church’s favor. Life is hard for Adam whim continues to wait for his family to return for him, growing into despair until one day he suddenly improves. He claims he’s spoken to an angel. And, to his credit, does give information far beyond what any child should know. But the older Adam gets, the more distracted he becomes. More happy, but conflicted. Till one day he disappears.'

The Imp (Priest Adam x Devil/King of Hell Lucifer) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03.

Adam's room in the church was a desolate place. Unlike the other boys, who had roommates, Adam was confined to a small, solitary, box-shaped room. An extra bed sat in the corner, stripped bare, its sad, lumpy mattress adding to the sense of abandonment. Crosses adorned the walls, with a framed painting of Jesus Christ dominating the central wall. The bare wooden floorboards were coated in dust, creaking ominously with every step. A single, dim light bulb hung in the middle of the ceiling, and a window between the two beds held a vase of fake sunflowers—a gift from Sister Emily before her tragic accident.

The worst part of the room, however, was the wardrobe. It loomed across from the window, a hulking, ancient wooden piece with floral-like carved legs and dusty doors that wailed when opened.

Adam flinched as the wardrobe doors were yanked open, the mournful wail echoing through the room. Sister Sera shoved aside the hangers of hand-me-down clothes, revealing the back of the wardrobe. She rapped it with her knuckles and turned to Adam, placing a hand on her hip.

“You see, Adam? Nothing,” she said sternly. “There’s nothing in your wardrobe.”

Adam stared into the gaping space, his fingers trembling at his sides. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You must sleep tonight. I will not accept another night of you staying up beyond your bedtime,” Sister Sera sighed, turning back to straighten the clothes. She closed the doors with a heavy thud, her long black skirt swishing as she moved. Her heels clicked against the floor, punctuating her words. “It is not healthy to stay up late.”

Adam continued to stare at the wardrobe. His shoulders jerked as he watched the right door slowly creep open. His breath hitched, and his face grew pale, his emerald eyes widening.

Sister Sera noticed and moved back to the wardrobe. She opened it again, inspecting the hinges thoughtfully. Moving the right door back and forth, the hinges emitted a cackling sound. Sister Sera pushed it shut, only for it to pop open and begin to creep ajar again, the hinges whining.

“Ah,” she breathed out, her eyes softening. She crouched down in front of Adam. “Adam, it’s just an old wardrobe. There’s nothing to be frightened of. The hinges are old, so the doors won’t stay shut. It’s just loose pressure.”

Adam’s gaze remained fixed on the wardrobe, his breath shaking. Sister Sera grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“Listen to me. There’s nothing hiding in your wardrobe. It’s old, it’s going to make sounds, and the doors will pop open. There is no evil within the house of God,” she smiled warmly, like a mother to her child. “As long as Jesus gazes upon you, you are safe from the demons of this world.”

Adam glanced up at the painting of Jesus on the wall. He licked his dry lips and slowly nodded, his weary green eyes flicking back to the wardrobe before returning to Sister Sera.

“I think those books have gone to your head. This is why I didn’t want you reading them,” she said, standing up and slipping her fingers into the pocket of her long black skirt. She carefully took out a rosary and placed it into Adam’s shaky hand. She curled his fingers around it, the red beads peeking out between his fingers. “This is a gift for you. When you get frightened, hold onto it and think of God and Jesus. No darkness can ever touch you.”

Adam stared down at their hands, his eyes still wide, as he nodded slowly.

Sister Sera smiled and brushed her hands down her skirt. She then took hold of Adam’s hands and began to lead him from the room. “Now then, let us prepare for the day. You have a long day ahead of you.”

Not fully listening to Sera, Adam peeked over his shoulder at the wardrobe, his worry unabated. He thought he saw claws slipping out of the wardrobe, curling around the right door. But he didn’t have time to inspect further as Sister Sera sharply pulled him into the corridor.

“There’s someone special we want you to meet today.”

Adam continued to glance nervously behind him as Sister Sera whisked him away. They ascended the steps toward the third floor, the old wood creaking beneath their feet. Adam's eyes darted to the artificial flowers scattered around the hallway, displayed in mismatched vases on random tables and shelves. Lilies, tulips, roses, daisies, and other flowers created a disjointed bouquet of false beauty. Adam pressed closer to Sister Sera, shying away from the open windows where sunlight streamed in. His lips twitched at the sound of the other children outside, their laughter and joy in stark contrast to his confinement within the church.

"Ah, here we go~" Sister Sera sang, stopping at a room and rapping her knuckles against the door. "Sister Emily?"

Adam let out a breathless gasp, his green eyes widening. Since the incident last year, Sister Emily had been bedridden, and no one was allowed to see her—not even Adam, who missed her dearly. His heart leaped into his throat, his body stiffening with worry. Was she alright?

"Hello, Sister Sera!" Sister Emily's cheerful voice piped up, and Sister Sera opened the door, revealing a sweet, quaint room.

Emily's chambers were mostly white with hues of pink and purple scattered throughout. It was the first time Adam had seen a nun without her coif. Emily was sitting up in bed, wearing a fitted white nightgown with a purple cardigan draped over her shoulders. Her long, curly purple hair cascaded down her rosy face and pooled around her waist. Her eyes were completely bandaged.

"Hello, Adam," she beamed, knowing he was there without needing to be told. Sister Sera must have informed her. "Don't worry, I'm beginning to feel much better now! We can start gardening again soon."

Sister Sera chuckled. "Maybe not right away."

She gently nudged Adam forward, encouraging him to enter the room. As he did, he noticed that Emily wasn’t alone. Two children were sitting on stools next to her, a boy and a girl who appeared to be about a year older than Adam. They looked like twins, with thick red hair framing their freckled faces and caramel eyes framed by thick eyelashes. Their faces were covered in freckles.

"Adam, I want you to meet my little cousins," Sister Emily said. The red-haired girl reached forward to hold her hand. "This is Eveline and Steve."

Adam glanced at the twins, awkwardly nodding as they both continued to stare at him.

Sister Sera placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "And young Steve here will be your new roommate, your buddy."

Adam met Steve’s eyes and felt his cheeks flush bright red, especially as Steve slipped off the stool and stepped up to him, extending a confident hand.

"Hi, I've heard so much about you, Addie," he grinned so beautifully that Adam felt his heart skip a beat.

Addie? He had never had a nickname before.

Slowly, Adam placed his timid hand into Steve’s.

Steve had such pretty eyes...

~#~

Creeping along the corridors, Adam moved as slowly and silently as possible, knowing that if he were caught, he would face the sting of a ruler or a sharp slap. His emerald eyes flickered weakly to the hanging portraits of the Fathers who had overseen the church over the years. There were so many, each one bearing a disturbing resemblance to the others—thick brown hair, brown eyes—despite being unrelated. It was uncanny. The only one who looked different was Father Michael, the church’s founder. He was short, with striking blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

At the thought of Father Michael, Adam tiptoed closer to the portrait. Tilting his head back, he gazed up at the man in awe. Father Michael was...beautiful. Adam tilted his head, crossing his arms behind his back as he continued to stare at the first Father of the house.

Rumour had it that Father Michael was related to the first Archangel who had descended from Heaven to guide humanity. Adam wasn’t sure if it was true, but Sister Sera believed it fervently. Adam’s eyes traced the four angry, blood-red scars on Father Michael’s cheek.

The story went that the Archangel had been branded by the Devil. The scars on Father Michael's face were said to be proof of his divine lineage, caused by the Devil himself.

Adam touched his own cheek, tracing his fingers over the spot where the scar would be if he had the same injury. Did the Archangel really fight the Devil? Was the Devil truly that terrifying? Was there a reason behind the Devil's actions?

Just then, Adam heard the soft clip-clank of heels approaching along the corridor he had been sneaking through. His eyes widened, and his mouth opened in surprise and fear. He glanced at his bruised hands, knowing just what would happen if he were caught. He might even be locked in the 'bo-bo' box, a punishment for the naughtiest children. Adam had never disobeyed to that extent, but this could be it. He was supposed to be in class right now, after all.

What should he do?

He took a shaky step back, worry twisting inside his stomach. His hands began to twist in front of him, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater, when suddenly he heard a familiar quack. Immediately, Adam spun around to find the familiar white and gold duck staring at him from a dumbwaiter.

He swore that the dumbwaiter was shut. Sister Sera kept it locked with a special key. Adam shuffled towards it; the dumbwaiter seemed just big enough for him. The duck quacked again, tilting its head as if to gesture for Adam to get in.

The familiar voices of Sister Sera and Sister Uriel echoed behind him, sending a horrified chill through him. Making up his mind, Adam rushed to the dumbwaiter and climbed inside. He went to pull the sliding door down, but it sprang shut on its own. Adam jumped in surprise as the duck wiggled onto his lap, both of them holding their breath as the two nuns stopped outside the dumbwaiter.

Unconsciously, Adam wrapped his arms around the duck, holding it close to his chest. The duck pressed into him, the strange red circles on its cheeks glowing, and the little top hat remained perfectly still on its head. The nuns outside the dumbwaiter were speaking harshly to each other, their voices low whispers as if they were worried someone might hear them.

“Everyone?” Sister Sera asked, her voice tinged with horror.

Sister Uriel made a sound. “The whole family. Both mother and father.”

“They were found in that state?” Sister Sera's voice echoed through the wood. “And the child?”

“Missing,” Sister Uriel said. “They believe...he might have met the same fate. But they never found the body.”

Sister Sera made another sound of disapproval and worry. “This is certainly worrisome. Especially if that child does turn out to—”

Their voices faded as they continued down the corridor. Adam craned his neck, trying to hear more, but soon lost the sound of the nuns' conversation. His head knocked against the side of the dumbwaiter, and he frowned, rubbing the tender area.

Who were they talking about? And what family had they mentioned?

Breathing deeply, Adam sighed, feeling the oppressive silence around him. He knew he should return to class before he was caught, but something kept him rooted in place. He shuffled forward, stretching a trembling hand out to tug on the latch and slide the door open. Suddenly, the dumbwaiter jolted violently. Adam froze, his eyes widening in terror, a soundless gasp escaping his lips. The dumbwaiter began to move on its own, and Adam pressed himself firmly against the cold, metal wall, watching as tiny lights flickered through the small gaps, indicating they were passing different levels.

The duck remained eerily silent, its feathered body pressed against Adam's chest, listening to his racing heart. The speed of the dumbwaiter increased, plummeting them through the church at an unnaturally fast pace. Finally, it came to a bone-rattling stop, and Adam's head struck the back wall with a dull thud. The sliding door of the dumbwaiter opened immediately, revealing a dimly lit area. Adam squeezed the duck in his arms, feeling its warmth as a slight comfort in the growing darkness. The duck turned its head, bobbing its beak against Adam's face as if to reassure him that he wasn't alone.

Letting out shaky breaths, Adam glanced down at the duck, his fear strong. He was terrified. Why did all these strange things keep happening to him? For a moment, he remained still, too afraid to leave the dumbwaiter. He knew where he was—he had been taken to the restricted basement of the church, a place forbidden to the children.

Suddenly, the duck wiggled free from Adam's grasp and, despite his efforts to catch it, leaped out of the dumbwaiter, waddling across the cold, grey floor. Adam watched with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief as the duck's soft feathers swayed and its tiny top hat wobbled adorably. The duck paused, quacked, and tilted its head, beckoning Adam to follow.

With a hesitant nod, Adam slid forward, stretching his legs out of the dumbwaiter. There was a small drop to the basement floor, and Adam flinched as his sweater scraped against the rough wall, landing with a soft thud. He curled his arms closer to himself, biting his bottom lip and glancing around warily, his eyebrows knitted together in anxiety. The basement wasn't particularly frightening at first glance. It was mostly clean, with tables lining both sides of the room and unlit hanging light bulbs above. One bulb appeared to be blown, casting an eerie shadow.

The room stretched forward, taking a sharp turn to the left where a soft, warm golden glow emanated. Adam swallowed thickly, a lump forming in his throat as he nervously followed the duck. Thankfully, the duck moved slowly, stopping frequently to ensure Adam was keeping up and not distracted by the strange objects around them. There were many distractions—odd stones, feathers, and a bloodied green horn among them.

A bookshelf lined the end of the room before the sharp turn. Adam shuffled closer, folding his arms and peering weakly at the jars on the pristinely clean shelves. They contained all sorts of unsettling things—pieces of meat sealed in some kind of gelatinous liquid. Adam's nose wrinkled in disgust. He jumped when the duck circled his ankles, its feathers brushing against him. He smiled weakly at the duck, but it waddled off towards the only light source. Adam turned and gasped, his emerald eyes widening in astonishment.

The basement opened into a claustrophobic, shadow-draped chamber adorned with murals that seemed to writhe in the flickering candlelight. A single, dust-covered table bore ancient parchment, but what ensnared Adam’s gaze was the mannequin at the center, clothed in a hauntingly beautiful, ethereal snow-white dress. The dress cascaded like a ghostly waterfall, its waist embroidered with sinister apple-like patterns and eerie, flower petal-like fabrics. Feather-like designs lined the sleeveless neckline, and a long, spectral veil shrouded the mannequin’s head, falling to its knees like a death shroud.

Adam stared in mesmerized terror at the dress, its otherworldly beauty almost too much to bear. Behind the mannequin, two vases overflowed with real purple and white roses, starkly contrasting the lifeless ones in his room. He puzzled over the presence of a wedding dress in the church’s crypt-like basement. Could it have belonged to Sister Sera? But the church condemned marriage, forbidding such unions among its nuns and fathers.

A duck rubbed against his ankle, jolting Adam from his reverie. He smiled, bending to pet it, but the duck waddled behind the mannequin, vanishing behind the voluminous, glittering fabric. Adam tilted his head, trying to locate his feathered companion when a sinister shadow began to writhe from the mannequin’s silhouette.

He stumbled back, his mouth agape, as an immense, dark mass slithered around the mannequin. A long, clawed hand traced its shoulder before the figure disappeared behind it entirely. Adam retreated, his emerald eyes wide with dread, desperately trying to discern the looming figure when suddenly, the familiar imp materialized on the other side of the mannequin. Adam gasped, stepping forward as he stared at the impish being he had thought was a figment of a nightmare.

This figure defied human description, dressed in a spectral white suit with a blood-red vest, reminiscent of a macabre circus. Its platinum blonde hair, alabaster skin, and rosy cheeks were eerily enchanting yet deeply unsettling. Golden and ruby eyes glimmered with malevolent charm, and a massive white top hat crowned its head, entwined with a live golden snake that hissed and coiled.

Adam’s heart raced, fear forgotten, replaced by a strange, magnetic pull. He stepped forward, raising a trembling finger toward the impish figure.

"No nose," slipped from his lips.

The imp’s mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, revealing razor-sharp teeth. Its eyes sparkled with malicious delight as it flicked its top hat. With a theatrical flourish, the imp plucked a purple rose from the vase, twirling it to scatter shimmering gold dust across the petals. Bowing theatrically, the imp offered the enchanted rose to Adam.

As he had done years ago, Adam gasped, moving forward without fear, gently taking the rose from the imp's claws. He cradled it, his heart pounding, the first flower he had ever received. He longed to hide it, fearful Sister Sera would confiscate it.

"W-Why..." Adam began, his voice trembling. He raised his gaze to meet the imp’s. "Why did you go away?"

The imp simply grinned, its arrowhead tail swishing and brushing against Adam’s cheek and neck. Adam giggled, stepping back with flushed cheeks.

"I wish you didn’t go," Adam murmured, beaming as the imp tucked another gold-dusted rose behind his ear. The thorns didn’t prick his skin; the rose felt warm against his flesh. "I was lonely. People...aren’t very nice to me."

Hooves clicking rhythmically on the stone floor, the imp traced its claws along Adam’s hands, brushing over his bruises. Adam watched in astonishment as the golden marks vanished, his skin healing before his eyes. He stared in disbelief, never having witnessed such a miracle.

The imp then stepped back and bowed low, its golden and ruby eyes locking onto Adam’s. It slid one arm behind its back while the other extended toward Adam, its clawed fingers splayed wide in an invitation.

A prickle of familiarity twined through Adam as he gazed at the imp's fingers. He gasped and tentatively placed his hand in the imp’s, allowing it to lead him away from the mannequin in the wedding dress. However, as the imp began to turn him, Adam caught a glimpse of the mannequin, and a chill raced down his spine. Its head was missing, and crimson liquid oozed down its shoulders, staining the pristine white dress. When had that happened?

Adam’s attention snapped back to the imp when something fluttered over his head. He blinked his apple-green eyes, finding a wedding veil draped over him, fluttering around his knees. The eerie oddness of the headless mannequin was momentarily forgotten as the imp began to twirl him around the basement floor, dancing with him like a figure from his darkest fantasies.

A giggle escaped Adam’s lips. His cheeks glowed as the imp gleefully spun him, switching Adam from one claw to the other.

The imp’s gentle claw held Adam’s arm above his head, the two circling before returning to their macabre waltz. Adam giggled again as the imp placed both claws on his waist, lifting him up and then back down, like a ballroom dance from a gothic fairy tale. It was thrilling, and Adam’s cheeks burned even redder. Compared to before, when Adam barely reached the imp’s waist, he now came up to its shoulders. He wondered if next year he would match the imp’s height or perhaps even surpass it.

Still, Adam was considered one of the smallest boys at the church, which made the imp’s stature quite diminutive. Holding Adam’s hand high again, the imp had him spin once more, the wedding veil attached to his hair fluttering around him like ethereal wings.

Adam didn’t know how long they danced, but soon his legs grew heavy and tired. He still smiled, overjoyed to spend time with the imp, but fatigue crept in, and the imp seemed to sense it. With another beguiling grin, the imp came to a gentle stop, steadying the breathless human with a calm, clawed hand. The imp then led him toward the table with the parchment. With a snap of its fingers, the parchment began to rise into the air, and the imp effortlessly lifted Adam, seating him on the table. Then the imp leaped up to sit beside him.

A piece of parchment fluttered from above, laying itself over Adam’s and the imp’s lap. Adam squinted down at it, noticing the peculiar symbols lining the parchment. He brushed his fingers across it, recognizing the language from the book. As Adam noticed the similarity, the symbols morphed into a readable script.

"Luci?" he read aloud, glancing up at the imp. He noticed the way its arrowhead tail swished at the name. "Is...that your name? Luci?"

Beaming at Adam, the imp nodded with a proud puff of its chest.

"Luci!" Adam chirped. "I'm Adam!"

The imp’s eyes closed tightly in amusement as it moved closer, flashing an even brighter smile. The arrowhead tail twirled around Adam’s side, teasingly brushing his neck again, making Adam laugh and hunch his shoulders.

"I guess you already knew that, huh?" Adam smiled widely. "Luci. I like you, Luci. I'm glad you're my friend."

The imp seemed even happier at that.

"You're my only friend." Adam paused, his cherry lips tilting downward in a frown. "Are you going to leave again? Will I have to wait years to see you again?"

Luci made no sound but nudged its shoulder against Adam’s as if to say, 'Don’t be sad.' The parchment's symbols shifted once more, spelling out words Adam could read.

"You have some...important responsibilities? That you can't ignore?" Adam read, looking to the imp for confirmation. He pouted when Luci closed its eyes again and nodded with a sweet smile. "You're very busy, you must be a pretty important person then?"

Luci sent a cheeky wink at that, sparking Adam’s imagination. His mind conjured images of a king ruling over a fantastical kingdom, his heart buzzing with a newfound thrill—unaware of how close to reality his imagination was.

Abruptly, Adam heard a dripping sound. He blinked in confusion and turned to look at the wedding dress, but Luci cupped his cheek, preventing him from turning. A sharp grin spread across Luci’s face as it swirled its tail closer to Adam’s face.

Luci leaned in close, suddenly tapping Adam on the forehead. Like a switch being flipped, Adam grew incredibly tired. His eyelids drooped, and he fought to keep them open, his gaze fixed on Luci’s eyes until he finally surrendered to the darkness. His head fell against Luci’s collarbone.

The imp gently caressed Adam’s face, running its claw along the wedding veil covering Adam’s head. Luci easily lifted Adam, carrying him bridal style. It slipped off the table, swirling around with Adam in its arms. Their silhouettes matched the ancient mural on the wall behind them.

The outline of their figures perfectly aligned with the two woven into the fabric—the devil carrying its horrified human bride.

Luci’s smirk widened, eyes gleaming with glee.

~#~

The golden spikes shimmered beneath him, glittering with a sinister brilliance as Adam cautiously stepped onto them. The warmth they exuded seemed almost malevolent against his bare feet. His apple-green eyes, wide with a mix of awe and trepidation, sparkled as he hesitantly placed one foot after the other, slowly beginning to follow the foreboding path. He giggled nervously, the sound echoing eerily in the stillness—it was just like the book Sister Sera had confiscated. But what Sister Sera didn't know was that Adam had devoured its pages twice over, each word etched into his mind.

He adored storybooks—their enchantment, their whimsy, their daring adventures. But Sister Sera disapproved, her stern demeanour ensuring the books were always taken away. Yet, Adam seemed to have an uncanny knack for finding them again, a forbidden pleasure he couldn't resist.

Humming to himself, he hopped on one foot, arms outstretched like a tightrope walker. The sky above was an unnatural, sickly pink, with cotton candy clouds drifting lazily across. The sun hung high, casting an eerie glow. The air was cloyingly sweet, a fruity scent that made Adam sigh with unease.

Flanking the golden path were flowers of every imaginable hue, even shades that didn't exist in his dreary, rain-soaked England. The blossoms were too vibrant, too surreal, their beauty almost painful. The trees surrounding him shimmered with an unnatural palette of green, orange, and blue. Adam spun around, his eyes following a small bird as it flitted overhead, its chirping distorted and haunting.

It was breathtaking. It was everything he had ever fantasised about in those 'forbidden' books. But Adam shivered, knowing how furious and disappointed Sister Sera would be if she found out. He could almost feel her presence, half-expecting the stern nun to emerge from the trees, ruler in hand, ready to punish him. His heart pounded in his chest, a testament to how deeply he knew this was wrong. To long for something so beautiful, so magical, was a sin.

As Adam trudged along the golden path, an icy dread began to seep into his bones. The guilt gnawed at him, twisting his insides and making his shoulders slump. His gaze dropped to his feet, watching the glittering spikes pass beneath him. His head throbbed, his green eyes misting over with unshed tears.

His breath hitched, his feet fumbling awkwardly. He bit his bottom lip, the sharp taste of blood mingling with his rising panic. The beauty around him grew more oppressive, more accusatory. Adam kept his eyes downcast, his skin prickling as a frigid breeze gusted past, knocking him off his feet with a startled yelp. He landed hard on his backside, covering his eyes with bruised hands, pressing them into his sockets in agony. He rocked back and forth, silent apologies tumbling from his lips.

The colours intensified, becoming harsh and overwhelming. Adam's stomach churned, his throat constricting with the urge to vomit. His nose wrinkled in pain as he curled into himself. The birdsong morphed into a grating buzz, and tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving fiery trails in their wake.

Adam pressed his knees painfully into his chest, burying his face into his kneecaps as his nails dug into his exposed flesh. The self-inflicted pain echoed his thoughts: he was shameful, bad, deserving of punishment. He was a disgrace.

A sudden, soft touch on his lower back made Adam jump. His head snapped up, and he turned to peek over his shoulder, heart pounding with dread. Had Sister Sera come to punish him again? His hands still burned from the last time.

Instead, a duck stood there, quacking at him. Odd red circles glowed on its cheeks, and a little white top hat shimmered atop its head. With wide, astonished eyes, Adam gasped as the duck pushed its way into his arms and snuggled up. Tentatively, he traced his fingers over the duck's soft white and gold feathers, awe battling with unease.

With another quack, the duck nudged its beak against Adam's cheek, licking away his tears. Adam's lips twitched into a fragile smile as he gazed down at the duck in wonder. Then, he hugged the duck helplessly, feeling small beads of comfort in its presence. He released a shaky sigh of contentment, burying his face into the soft feathers. The duck raised its large white and gold wing, folding it over Adam's head as if to shield him from the outside world.

It was nice. It was comforting. It was something Adam had never experienced before. He hummed, savouring the warmth the duck gave him. Adam's eyes closed for a few seconds, and when he opened them again, the colourful fantasy world had suddenly turned dark and foreboding. The trees were barren, the flowers withered and crumbling, the yellow brick road shattered into fragments scattered around him.

Adam's breath hitched as he sat up properly. He glanced around, his eyes wide as he took in the black, empty sky stretching on, devoid of stars or moon. His heart pounded heavily, sending vibrations through his body.

The warmth of the duck turned icy cold. Adam turned his head and froze, his eyes widening even more. His spine stiffened, paralyzed with terror as he saw the duck was now covered in blood-red, snake-like eyes, all staring at him.

Adam's face grew pale, white with horror and nausea. His shoulders hunched up to his ears as the duck began to move toward him, its red-eyed face drawing closer. Adam closed his eyes, bracing for pain, but none came. Instead, a soft purr emanated from the duck, and it rubbed its strange, eye-covered face against Adam's cheek.

The tension within Adam slowly eased, his shoulders sagging. He released a breath he didn't realise he was holding and opened his eyes to meet the duck's many.

Oh...

The duck wasn't that frightening...

Adam raised a hand to stroke the duck's eye-covered feathers, a smile lighting up his lips when the duck let out another happy quack at the action, snuggling even closer to him.

Oh. The duck was cute despite the eyes.

Adam hugged the duck again, enjoying the coldness that spread over him. It wasn't an unpleasant coldness; it was nice and made him hum in enjoyment.

With a soft snuffle, Adam's sleepy eyes opened. He found himself back inside the church once more. The soft pitter-patter of rain hitting the glass eased him out of his dreams. Adam smiled meekly. It was a nice dream, even if it was a little scary at times. He rubbed his left eye like a cat and sat up, his thick brown and red hair a mess, sticking up in all directions.

Adam was fourteen when the dreams began. They were always the same, like a true paradise. The lush trees, vibrant flowers, soft grass, golden stones making up the yellow brick road Adam remembered reading about—the sky so blue and the air so very sweet. His dream was lovely until it wasn't. Until it became too much, too suffocating, and his little duck friend came to rescue him. It always ended in the same way, with the duck revealing its horrific form. It was terrifying, scaring Adam every single time! Until he found the duck beautiful either way, the red slit-eyes were mesmerising, and Adam found it fascinating.

With a sleepy yawn, Adam glanced up at the cross nailed above his bed. He shuffled onto his knees and then his feet. Even at fourteen, he was tiny, small compared to the other children. Adam stretched onto the tips of his toes, turning the cross back up again, making sure it was right-side up. Somehow, the cross would always be upside down when he slept.

Adam would go to bed with the cross correct and wake up after his dream to find the cross upside down. He always pushed it back up after one of the new sisters had screamed about it the next morning.

With another weary yawn, Adam collapsed onto his knees, his body bouncing slightly on the old, lumpy mattress of his bed. The springs squeaked with every movement, the quilts were a faded blue and white striped pattern, and the pillows were a musty yellow. The sheets, though once white, were now a dingy grey. The fabric itched against his skin, but Adam was somewhat grateful for the oversized hand-me-downs from the older kids. He could hide his fingers and toes inside his pyjamas, a small comfort against the constant irritation.

A prickling sensation crept over his skin, the unsettling feeling of being watched. Adam’s mouth went dry, and he rubbed his eyes with both hands, blinking away the remnants of sleep. He shuffled on his knees, glancing towards the other slumbering boy on the opposite side of the room.

Steve was still sleeping, blissfully unaware. Adam sniffled and frowned. If it wasn’t Steve staring at him, then who was watching him at this ungodly hour? He scratched his head and glanced around the room. For a brief, terrifying moment, his eyes brushed over a figure peering around the wardrobe. Adam's heart nearly stopped as he turned to look directly at it.

The wardrobe doors were ajar, a black mass occupying the space between. Long, clawed fingers curled around the wooden door, and a head tilted to the side, familiar glowing blood-red eyes locked onto him.

Coldness spread over Adam’s skin, tracing along his neck and down his spine. His lips parted, emerald eyes widening until they burned. His mouth opened and shut, breath trapped in his throat. He shuffled to the edge of the bed, the springs squealing as he slipped a trembling foot to the floor. His knees buckled, fear churning in his stomach, hairs standing on end.

Adam’s hands clutched the hem of his t-shirt as he continued to stare at the horrifying silhouette in the doorway. Its blood-red eyes bore into Adam’s skinny form, a swish of a tail and the sharp outline of horns materialising in the dim light.

With another hitched breath, Adam inched across the bedroom floor towards Steve's bed. He pulled the quilt up and crawled underneath, his body trembling as he curled into a tight ball. Knees pressed to his chest, eyes screwed shut, he desperately hoped the thing in the wardrobe would vanish.

Steve rolled over, grunting as he bumped into Adam’s smaller form. He opened sleep-crusted caramel eyes and glanced at Adam. “Another nightmare?”

Adam didn’t respond, only shaking more. Steve shrugged and closed his eyes again, slipping back into sleep. He draped an arm over Adam, offering a pinch of comfort. But it didn’t help much... not when Adam heard a snarling growl rise from behind him.

Nothing else happened for the rest of the night. Adam didn’t go back to sleep.

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 28 – HISTORICAL FICS

In Amore Veritas by FestiveFerret

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 3,903 Tags: Truth Serum, Class Difference, Reconnecting

Summary: Prince Tony creeps down to the stables one night to meet with his best friend, Steve, one of the stable boys. It's something they do often, but this time, Tony has something special hidden in the wraps of his cloak.

Reasons why I love it: Oh, you poor, silly boys. I'm so glad they cleared up their misunderstanding in the end, because those two idiots deserve each other. This fic is super sweet and fluffy, and I bet you'll love it just as much as I do!

as you have honored them by Areiton

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 1,734 Tags: Fantasy AU, Forced Marriage, Protective Steve

Summary: He sits in his chambers, silent as the three serving automans paint his body, gold and crimson. There are the sigils of the Crown that is his birthright, and the ones of Stone’s own kingdom. There are, too, the traditional sigils, of a bride, of the nine gods and the six kingdoms.

Reasons why I love it: Don't mind me, I'm just over here, screaming incoherently into the void. This fic is SO GOOD, oh my god! I love all of the symbolism and the blessings and the ENDING, fuck yes! I really hope you go and read this one if you haven't, because it's phenomenal!

Tribute Given, Treasure Gained by sphagnum

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 12,051 Tags: A/B/O, Power Imbalance, Tribute Tony

Summary: “Steve,” the Captain said, hand over his chest. Tony licked his lips. Was he supposed to give his name, or remain silent until he was asked a direct question? The Captain--Steve, apparently--already knew his name, he had to, it had been included on the settlement he and Stane had signed. Was this a test? Time was passing and Steve was still waiting with his hand on his chest but Tony had to figure out the right answer fast or when Steve moved he might-- “Tony,” he blurted. “Tony,” Steve repeated. He hadn’t come any closer. He said something short that might have been pleased to meet you or you look good on your knees. Tony had no way of knowing and he wasn’t going to risk echoing it. He kept quiet. See, Howard? I do know how to shut up when my life depends on it.

Reasons why I love it: The language barrier gives this story so much tension and intrigue, it's amazing! I love how gentle Steve is with Tony, mindful of his nerves to the very end, and Tony's musings about whether or not he can trust Steve are perfect. I love this fic so much, and you should definitely read it!

a myth to many by nanasekei

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: NR Words: 8,660 Tags: Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Medieval AU, Angst

Summary: “What I’m about to ask you has no relation to our alliance,” Rogers continues, his voice a lot steadier now. “I come here only in behalf of myself, and what I’m about to ask, I ask as a man, not as a soldier.” Howard feels as if he can see the anticipation growing in the room, almost as a cloud forming over them. The guards don’t bother hiding the shock in their expressions, and even Jarvis can’t fully disguise the curiosity, his eyebrows quirked. Rogers takes one short breath before locking his eyes with Howard’s. His blue gaze is almost peaceful in its resoluteness, as if there’s an element of inevitability in what he’s about to say. “I’m here to ask for your son’s hand.”

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, the ending is so ominous, I love it! The choice to tell this story from Howard's perspective is brilliant. His inner monologue is fascinating, and it reveals so much about Tony's life as his son. And the last few paragraphs are an absolute gut-punch. I adore this one, and I hope you give it a shot for yourself!

Clan (of the Stranger and the Outcast) by greymantledlady

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 5,778 Tags: Stone Age AU, Hurt Tony, Protective Steve

Summary: The Stranger holds out his huge hand towards Tony, palm outwards and upwards. Tony watches him warily, baring his teeth a little, not yet a snarl but a warning. But the Stranger simply holds his hand there, waiting, waiting; and his knife is lying on the ground between them, and there is no threat in the lines of his body. Tony lets out a little breath he’s been holding. And he’s trembling, but he slowly reaches his own hand out, tentative and uncertain, and brushes the fingertips against the Stranger’s calloused palm. And the Stranger smiles a little, his eyes soft, and wraps his fingers around Tony’s. (The one where Neanderthal!Steve and Homo Sapiens!Tony imprint on each other like baby ducklings.)

Reasons why I love it: The way they communicate with each other in this one is so precious to me. I love the whole setting and how their culural differences come into play, it's super intriguing. Definitely check this one out, it's wonderful!

[lonewolflupe]

Trick or Treat! 🧛

The door stays shut. Just when you decide to move on to the next door, an ominous fog starts creeping up towards you. You're intrigued by it; it almost looks like the real thing. Wait, it is? How the- Your neck hairs stand on end when you notice movement in front of you. You blink a few times when a clone in full armour walks through the closed door, not sure if this is really happening or if your mind is playing tricks on you. But your eyes shoot wide open when you notice something is missing; and it’s none other than his head. A moment later, the licking flames between his armour start gathering where a head should be, and begin to form a face, being of a shade of red you've never seen fire painted before. You stand frozen to the ground, unable to move as he comes closer. Your mind is racing, unable to comprehend what is happening - and that you're blocking his way. Suddenly, you feel how a pair of hands grab your shoulders, before they urge you to step aside. But you can see the headless man's arms right at his side. “Move,” he demands in the most harrowing, bone-chilling voice, one that sounds like it isn’t something from this world. “W-what are you gonna do?” you squeak, your throat feeling tight, as if one of those invisible hands is squeezing it shut. “I'm about to kill,” he replies after a brief moment, his voice icy and metallic, echoing through the soul like a corridor ghoul locates its prey. Petrified, you watch him leave, and it takes a while before you regain yourself. Time to head home.

Don’t burn yourself on the (trick or) treat below the cut:

For @eclec-tech

Alright so I might be a little bit obsessed with your The Headless Guardsman story. And after drawing him for my 100 follower event, I wanted to give it another try after finishing the story! So here's another Headless Guardsman (FireFox, although I wouldn't use him as a browser), this time getting all his frustrations and anger and sadness and the misunderstandings out in a harrowing, smoky scream. (Note to Ever Love: give this man the comfort and love he deserves!)

I did use a reference for the expression, because I wanted the emotions to be visible, but the way I did the smoke/outer flames was an accident (which turned out pretty cool, I think!).

Amber, thanks for dropping by for inbox Trick-or-Treating and giving me another opportunity to draw your amazing Headless Guardsman <3

Fox taglist: @peggy7447 @ghostymarni

The Headless Guardsman for @pinahallowsevecloneparty

[boringbluebitch]

SlenderDad Headcanons

————⦻————⦻————⦻————⦻————

“Slenderman wouldn’t be a father figure to the pastas, he’s manipulative and that’s unrealistic/not canon-“ Anyway here’s some of my random headcanons of Slender being a father to the creeps cus it’s fun :3

————⦻————⦻————⦻————⦻————

- He’s the type of parental figure who tries too act like he’s “cool” and “nonchalant” and thinks he’s doing a good job at it but he actually isn’t and is TERRIBLE at it because he cares too much.

- Absolutely a girls dad 100% idc what anyone says. Jeff got stabbed? eh, he’ll be fine its not the first time EJ will fix him up. But Sally got a paper cut? You better get out the way cus he’s rushing to make sure she’s ok and he WILL trample over anyone in his way.

- Sally is in fact his number one favorite and no one can convince me otherwise. He lets her get away with pretty much whatever and treats her like a princess. (as everyone should)

- Going alongside with the point above this, Lulu is his second fav. (no I’m not projecting just because she’s my fav why would you think that..)

- He knows some basic sewing and mending skills so he “secretly” patches and fixes the creeps clothes for them. (they’re running through the woods, killing people, and doing crazy shit like 24/7 so ofc they constantly mess up their clothes) I just imagine Toby coming back after a long mission to find all his socks that once had holes in them no longer do. Or Nina complaining to Clockwork that she ripped her favorite skirt and being so sad about it, but when she comes back from a small spree the next day it’s sitting on her bed as good as new.

- He likes to give the creeps small “gifts” every once in a while. He’s never up front about it though he’ll just leave it in their room mysteriously (unless it’s one of the girlies) which sometimes comes off a bit ominous and creepy but it’s just him trying to make a sweet gesture and they recognize that.

- Idc what anyone says he cooks for them sometimes. He had no idea how to cook before, but the more and more creeps that started to pile up he became interested to learn. He’s not a master chef or anything, but he can make some basic stuff and it’s actually not too bad. They don’t have family dinners though imo, I don’t think they would ever sit together around a big table or anything, he just makes the food and says “eat when you want cus it’s here” and then leaves them too it.

- He’s such a proud LGBTQ+ supporter/ally guys don’t even play with me on this one. And the following is a situation I imagine happened (idc how unrealistic it is, it’s silly in my head therefore it’s true to me):

Slenderman: Hello Jane. I want to discuss a very important matter with you if you have the time.

Jane: …yes?

Slenderman: Well, I over heard the other day that you fancy women and I just wanted too let you know that I support you and I am a fellow LBTGQ+ ally.

Jane: …uh…thank you?

Slenderman: You are very welcome.

————⦻————⦻————⦻————⦻————⦻————⦻————

A lil bonus doodle cus why not ^_^

[bijouxcarys]

Ties That Bind - PROLOGUE TEASER

Okay, this story is in no way, shape or form ready for release yet. But I'm interested in what you all think about what I have as the working prologue at the moment. Will eventually go through some editing, but I need to know it's worth it to keep going!

(This is a mafia AU)

It wasn’t hard to miss the trail of black SUVs cruising down the rain-slicked streets of New York City. While passersby made their way home from work, they could only envy the lucky bastards who owned such a vehicle. Not that they could see inside it, of course. Its passengers were completely cloaked in shadows.

“Man, you always got the best tunes, Uce,” Jimmy said as he fiddled with the radio, a grin playing on his lips. He settled on an old-school hip-hop station.

Roman smirked. “Gotta keep the vibe right, y’know? Can’t go into business all tense and shit.”

In the backseat, Jey was stretched out, his eyes closed and his head nodding to the beat. “You think this deal’s gonna go smooth?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“Better,” Roman replied. “We ain’t got time for no drama tonight.”

Jimmy glanced at his cousin. “You hear anything about Dimitri? Anything we should know?”

Roman shook his head. “Just the usual. Volkov’s always lookin’ to expand his empire. This deal’s big for him too. So, let’s just handle our business and get out.”

They drove in comfortable silence, the city’s neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement, creating a kaleidoscope of colours that danced across the sleek surface of the car. Roman felt a sense of calm with his family close, a rare moment of peace before the storm of their criminal world.

It wasn’t much longer before they pulled into the decrepit warehouse, its once imposing structure now a crumbling relic of the past. Roman killed the engine, and they stepped out, their breaths instantly visible in the cold night air.

Wrapping his arms around himself to keep warm, Jey took in the sight in front of him. “Damn, this place down real bad… There even a point of goin’ inside? Shit looks icy in there, Uce.”

“We’re going inside,” Roman responded through a chuckle, signalling to do just that. “Can you handle a little cold for ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes?!” Jey groaned, trailing behind Roman and Jimmy.

“He just mad ‘cause the chill makes Little Jey all shrivelled and shit,” Jimmy teased with a cackle that bounced off the vacant walls of the warehouse.

Roman just shook his head in amusement. Never a dull moment with the Usos around, that’s for sure. It would make the wait more bearable.

That’s the part of these deals Roman hated the most: the waiting. And the twins’ constant back and forth only relieved the restless stretch of time to a degree before he became impatient.

Roman stood in the shadows, his keen eyes scanning the darkened surroundings for the tenth time tonight. This was supposed to be a simple handoff, a straightforward deal. But something about the stillness in the air, the silence that seemed too deep, set his nerves on edge.

“This place gives me the creeps, Uce. What’s takin’ ‘em so long?” Jimmy muttered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Patience,” Roman replied steadily. “They’ll be here.”

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the silence. Headlights pierced through the darkness, and a convoy of black SUVs—not too indifferent from their own—pulled up, their engines purring ominously. Roman straightened, signalling his men to stay alert. The doors of the leading car opened, revealing the brooding figure they had been expecting, illuminated briefly by the interior light.

“Dimitri,” Roman greeted, extending a hand. The Russian took it, his grip firm and cold.

“Roman,” Dimitri responded, his Slavic accent thick and voice as rough as gravel. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Roman lied smoothly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Dimitri motioned to his men, who began unloading crates from the vehicles. Roman watched them carefully, his senses on high alert. The deal was for a shipment of weapons—high-grade, military-issue. It was a big score for both sides, provided everything went according to plan.

“So, where’s the money?” Dimitri asked, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinised Roman.

“Right here,” Roman nodded to Jey, who stepped forward with a heavy duffel bag. He unzipped it, revealing stacks of cash, neatly bundled and undeniably real.

Dimitri’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Excellent.”

As the exchange began, Roman felt the buzzing of his phone from within his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing down at the screen, half-expecting it to be another message from Maria, telling him more of what he did wrong this week.

Boy, was he wrong.

Unknown Number at 22:47 IT’S A TRAP GET OUT NOW

His blood ran cold. Roman looked up, meeting Jey’s eyes and giving a barely perceptible nod. They had been set up.

“Is there a problem?” Dimitri asked, noticing the change in Roman’s demeanour.

“No problem,” he replied coolly. “Just a little change in plans.”

“Oh?” Dimitri tilted his chin up, an attempt to face up to the hulking 6ft 3 stature of the Samoan in front of him.

“Yeah,” Roman smiled with a nonchalant shrug. “Ya know how it is, man…” His facial expression dropped from jovial to flat-out frigid. “Plans… change. Nei, tama.”

Before Dimitri could react, the air erupted with the sound of gunfire. Roman’s men sprang into action, drawing their weapons and taking cover. The Volkovs were equally prepared, and the warehouse transformed into a battlefield.

“Move it!” Roman barked, pushing Jey and Jimmy towards cover. He ducked behind a stack of crates, firing at the Volkovs as he went. The sound was deafening, the flashes of gunfire illuminating the chaos.

“Dammit, Roman, what’s goin’ on?!” Jimmy yelled over the noise, returning fire.

“Someone tipped us off. We need to get outta here!” Roman shouted back, taking down a Volkov soldier who got far too close for his liking.

Through the haze of smoke and chaos, Roman saw Dimitri retreating, barking orders at his men. It was clear the Russian had no intention of staying to see how the fight played out. Roman’s jaw tightened. This was supposed to be a simple deal, but now it was an all-out war.

“Fall back!” Roman ordered. “Get to the cars!”

His men began to retreat, covering each other as they moved. The Volkovs pressed the attack, but Roman’s team was disciplined, their movements coordinated. They reached the cars, engines roaring to life as they sped away from the warehouse.

Roman’s heart pounded as he glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the warehouse fade into the distance.

/

“This is bad, atali’i,” Sika said, turning to face Roman. “Real bad.”

Back at the Reigns family compound, the atmosphere was tense. Roman’s father, stood by the window, had just endured Jimmy’s entire recount of the night’s events with a grim expression.

“I know, Pops,” Roman replied, his voice steady but his eyes burning with anger. “But we’ll find out who did this and why. And we’ll make ‘em pay.”

Sika nodded. “We need to be careful. Whoever set this up knew exactly how to hit us. We can’t afford to let our guard down.”

Roman glanced around the room at his family, his blood, his soldiers. They were all looking to him for direction, for a plan. And he had one. But first, they needed more information.

“Jimmy, Jey,” he said, turning to his cousins. “We need to tighten security. No one gets in or out without us knowing about it. And I want you to start asking questions. Discreetly. Find out who knew about the deal and who could have tipped off the Volkovs.”

The twins nodded, their faces as serious as ever; they knew the stakes as well as he did.

“Solo,” Roman continued, addressing the twins’ younger brother. “I need you to keep an eye on Ava. From a distance, I can’t give that… strega another thing to hold over my head.”

Solo nodded, his demeanour always as cold as the North. “I got this.”

As his family dispersed to carry out their orders, Roman turned back to Sika. “We need to get answers. Fast. Someone’s playing both sides.”

Sika’s eyes hardened. “And when we find them?”

Roman’s expression was frozen with vengeance. “We make the motherfucker regret they ever stepped foot on my turf.”

This was more than a betrayal; it was a declaration of war.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I was reading your feral Optimus and I have to say I adore him. I love the idea of him always being a wild mech underneath all that matrix. Also bee being feral with him is just icing on the cake.

I wanted to know, would this make things uncomfortable in your au where Unicron tries to corrupt them but fails. Because the idea of a feral corrupted bee hissing from atop a towering feral Optimus’s shoulder makes me very excited.

I am unsure if you are asking for writing with this, hence why it has taken me so long to get to answering. So if this was a request for writing, by all means, feel free to drop me another ask with a bit more specificity. With that said, here is my simple answer.

Absolutely.

Unicron's taint in that au will 100% have its effects. Eventually, Bee and Op are going to drift from the rest of the team due to how badly they were changed. They will rely on each other as their respective anchors. Bee will keep Optimus out of his own head, giving him something to protect fiercely so that he does not fall to mindless violence. In return, Optimus will become Bumblebee's focus and protector, ensuring that he does not feel the need to lash out at anyone and everything because of his hunger.

The team are going to be SO creeped out by their leader and scout chittering ominously and occasionally leaving and returning covered in energon and or blood. But what are they going to do? Fight them? Bee is a monster that crawls in the walls and can lure anyone in with his biolights. Optimus is a towering giant who barely fits in the fragging base and is practically impervious to damage. There ain't no way the team are touching that.

Nope they will not be asking why Bee is sitting on Optimus's shoulder watching them all with chattering mandibles. No they will not be questioning why Optimus stalks the halls at night. And they absolutely will not be going anywhere near Optimus and Bee when they huddle in the dark.

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x27 - Vamdemon's Castle of Darkness / The Gateway to Home

Previously on Digimon Adventure: PicoDevimon bullied Sora into remember that her mom never loved her so she realized she can't love anyone and quit. But then she realized the truth: Her mom loved her, her friends love her, she loves her friends, and PicoDevimon loves being punted like the football.

After a disappointed Vamdemon petulantly whined at ominously warned the Chosen Children that their doom is still to come, they're left with time to breathe and figure out what all that was about.

The truth is something they could not possibly expect. And something that I had to read a 15-page Argentinian short story to digest.

Taichi and Jou use plastic bags to collect drinking water from the river we were decompressing at last episode.

Jou: These bags are useful, aren't they? I swiped them from the restaurant. Gomamon: I thought you were always honest and straightforward, Jou! Jou: No comment.

Hahahaha Jou looted the fucking diner on their way out the door. I guess even Mr. "Decay of Japanese Society's" sense of social propriety has its breaking point. We are a bad influence on this boy.

However, while they're collecting water, Mimi sits nearby looking distraught.

Jou: Mimi-kun, cheer up. Mimi: But now that Vamdemon's shown up, we'll have to keep running away from him like we were with Etemon, won't we? Jou: (dour) I guess that's true.... Taichi: What? Only for a while. Palmon: We have to be brave! Mimi: You're right.

Taichi is unsurprisingly flippant in the face of a new asshole trying to kill them, but that infectious courage is what Mimi needs right now.

In the dub, Joe's theft is retained but Gomamon doesn't call him on it.

Joe: Hey, check it out, Mimi! How about this for an instant bath? I'm glad I took these bags from the restaurant. Gomamon: Gee, now you'll be able to go soak your head the next time you have an allergy attack. Joe: Right. That was so funny, I forgot to laugh. Mimi: Now that Myotismon's chasing us, we're gonna have to keep running like a bunch of crazed shoppers at the mall! He's just a big creep, if you ask me! Joe: I have to agree with you on that. Tai: Yeah, he's small potatoes for us! Palmon: My wish is to never see him again, period! Mimi: Mine too!

Okay, so we're off to a bad start. Gomamon congratulating Jou for pragmatically breaking character is now another quip about Joe's allergies. Mimi's fears about another round of Kill the Children is played more light-hearted and goofy. And then we wrap it up with everyone being as flippant about Myotismon as Taichi was in the original.

Suddenly, Koushiro runs up with news.

Koushiro: TAICHI-SAAAAAAN!!! Taichi: What is it? Are all of you finished preparing the food? Koushiro: It's not that! It's Gennai-san! Taichi, Jou, & Mimi: Gennai is here!?

This is the same in the dub, except they give Tai, Joe, and Mimi separate remarks spoken all at once.

Mimi: Is this a scheduled visit? Joe: Hope he's found a way to get us out of here. Tai: What is it this time?

Mimi and Joe completely drown out Tai. As they should.

The kids gather around Gennai and very respectfully inquire about his message.

Taichi: What's up, Geezer? What is it this time? Gennai: I have both good news and bad news, so which would you like to hear first? Jou: I'd like to say we should leave the good news for last, but.... Yamato: We're going to be disappointed either way so let's hear the good news first. Gennai: Okay then. We'll start with the good news. Truth is, I've found a new member for your nakama. Sora: Nakama? You mean the Chosen Children!?

Gennai tries to be hip with the youngsters and use that word Taichi's been throwing around. Sora gets confused and demands specifically terminology for this context.

Gennai: Yes. There are actually supposed to be eight Chosen Children. Group: EHHH!?!? Pyokomon: Hey, wouldn't that mean there's supposed to be another Digimon in our nakama too? Sora: Yeah, it would.... Gennai: The important thing is that without all eight of you, the distortions in this world can't be corrected. That means the distortions in your world also won't be corrected. Do you understand? Taichi: Of course. Sora: (nods) Mm. Takeru: I wonder what this person is like? Mimi: I hope we meet them soon! Taichi: So where is this person? What's their name? Gennai: Their name is... Uh... I don't know. Taichi: GEEZER!!!

Gennai living down to the ageist slur jiji that Taichi keeps hurling at him every time they meet.

In the dub:

Tai: Well!? Don't keep us all in suspense! What's this all about, anyway? Gennai: Well, I've brought you some good news and some bad news. Which would you like to hear first? Joe: Save the good news for last; I hate being depressed. Matt: He's a basket case anyway! Let's start with the good news! Gennai: Actually, you all look like you could use some cheering up. I've been told another child will be joining your group. Sora: Another child? Who tells you these things anyway?

Joe and Matt's exchange rewritten so that Matt can be mean to Joe despite more or less expressing the same sentiment.

Meanwhile, Sora's asking the real questions here. Gennai, being a complete asshole, ignores her. Keeps right on expositing as if she never said anything at all.

Gennai: Well, this is someone you shall want as a friend. This someone is a DigiDestined. Group: Whoa! Really? Yokomon: Oh, I hope this new one will have a Digimon that will be able to help us! Sora: You and me both! Gennai: The important thing to remember is that all eight of you must be together. As long as you are separated, the worlds will not be in harmony with each other. Everything will go whacko. So we must find that other child as soon as possible. Tai: How do we do that? Sora: (nods) Hm. T.K.: I hope it's someone my size! Mimi: I hope she's my size so we can swap clothes! Tai: Tell us something about this kid! Like, what's his or her name? Gennai: Uh, the name? Tai: Yeah! Gennai: It's... I forgot.

We cut to a commercial break here. I hope you remember that dumb shit he just said after the commercials because we're picking right back up where we left off after the break, with Tai yelling at him for it.

Tai: GENNAI!!!

"We need all eight of you in order to correct the distortions in our world, which are causing the distortions in yours," is the point here.

What Dub Gennai says is, "If the eight of you are separated then the worlds won't be in harmony and everything will go whacko." What?

He makes it sound like Hikari not going to camp is the reason rice paddies are drying up and New York is buried in snow.

Once the kids have expressed their frustration with Gennai, he continues updating them on the situation.

Gennai: Sorry about that. But I do know where the child is located: Japan. Group: EHHHH!?!? Taichi: Japan!? Gabumon: Where is that? Agumon: It's in the word Taichi and the others are from. Koushiro: Oh yeah, you went there once, didn't you, Agumon? Agumon: Yep. Jou: But... That means we can't find this person. Gennai: Don't be so disappointed! Taichi: Yeah? What's the bad news? Gennai: Uh... Vamdemon knows everything I just told you. He's gathering an army to invade Japan and kill the child. Taichi: VAMDEMON IS GOING TO JAPAN!?!?

Seriously. What the fuck, Gennai?

"By the way there were actually supposed to be eight of you all along and either I just figured that out even though I'm part of this whole shebang or I've been withholding it all this time. But I just found out Vamdemon's after the other kid so I'm throwing all of this at you at once OKAY GO TO JAPAN NOW BYYYYYYE!!!"

Jiji is the fucking worst. He was legit just going to hang out and hope for the best with understaffed Chosen Children. I don't think he had any intention of ever bringing this up until Vamdemon forced his hand.

In the dub, it's time to finally set in stone a setting for where the kids are from. California? New York? Florida? At long last, where have they been localized to?

Gennai: Calm down. I do know of the location of the child. It's Japan. Group: Huh? Tai: JAPAN!?!? Gabumon: Where is Japan? Agumon: Japan's a big island in the far east. Izzy: Agumon and Tai were transported there when our two worlds converged. Agumon: Mmhmm. Joe: If they ever converge again, maybe we'll all get to go home. Mimi: Yeah.... Gennai: Remember, that was the good news. Tai: Can't wait to hear the bad. Gennai: Myotismon has heard of the eighth child and will be going to Japan soon. He's gathering his forces as we speak. If he gets to the child first, both of our worlds will be doomed. Tai: DOOMED!?!? WE NEED SOME SPIES ON THE INSIDE!!!

That's right! With the looming threat of an entire goddamn arc spent in Japan, the dub officially throws up its hands and gives up on any possibility of localizing to an American setting. We will not be visiting Japanifornia in Digimon Adventure. We are returning to Japan, in English and in Japanese.

Though still talking about it from an American point of reference, of course. "Japan's a big island in the far East," Agumon definitely explains to the children watching at home and not to the Digimon around him because it makes zero sense in context.

Fortunately, the dub up to this point has mostly set their origins in a region-neutral void of geography. They never said it was the U.S., so they can make the transition to Fine It's Japan Okay smoothly. Contrast Ace Attorney, which is in too deep and now has to make up shit like "A village of Japanese immigrants!" to explain away their explicitly Japanese settings.

(Maybe it's a good thing that they skipped the OVA. Can you imagine if the OVA came out first and was like, "Once upon a time in Chicago....")

We cut to Vamdemon's castle, where we see he's aggressively recruiting. Various Vegiemon, Numemon, and Scumon are here. I guess something about the job listing sounded super appealing to Adult-stage junk evolutions and no one else.

Speaking of which:

PicoDevimon is not impressed by the recruits.

PicoDevimon: (sigh) They look like a bunch of useless clods. Nanimon: Nothing to worry about! I'll whip them into shape!

Fellow junk evolution Nanimon descends the steps to train these junk recruits while the narrator gives us his rundown.

Nanimon is an Adult-stage Virus-type Invader Digimon. He's the bottom-tier Digimon that evolves into Digitamamon. He's named for the expression you give when your Digimon evolves into this abomination: "What."

Narrator: What is this Digimon? No, that's his name. A drifter whose true identity is unknown, nicknamed Oyaji. His special attack is poop.

His nickname, oyaji, can refer informally to a father or more generically to any middle-aged man. Contrast ojisan, a respectful way of addressing an older man. And jiji, the rude and disrespectful terminology that Taichi regularly uses for Gennai.

PicoDevimon: I'm counting on you. Only a sensei with years of military experience like yours is fit for this job. Nanimon: Got it. PicoDevimon: Well, they're all yours! (wanders off)

In the dub, DemiDevimon's as unsubtle about his feelings as PicoDevimon.

DemiDevimon: Bah! The noodle-brainer team! Nanimon: Don't worry, I'll whip 'em all into shape! These dweebs will be unbeatable when I get through with them.

DemiDevimon handles our rundown here.

DemiDevimon: Nanimon is an Invader Digimon. I'd tell him what I really think about his sunglasses but his Power Punch would flatten me!

The dub keeps the name Nanimon but pronounces it differently. In Japanese it's Nani-mon, where in English it's Nanny-mon.

DemiDevimon: Okay, big boy, we know you can talk the talk but now it's time for you to do your stuff! Nanimon: Just watch! DemiDevimon: I don't wanna. (wanders off)

No mention of Nanimon's military service record. Rather, he just seems to have made some promises about being able to train these Digimon.

Coming in the gate, a couple of new recruits volunteer to join the training session.

Agumon & Palmon: (flamboyant) Yaaaaay! Palmon: Hey, is it ~true~ that you're recruiting soldiers? Agumon: Can we sign up? Nanimon: Who are you? Agumon: I'm PunkAgumon! Palmon: And I'm ReggaePalmon! Agumon & Palmon: Yaaaaay! Nanimon: (looks at the assembled junk evos) ...They might be better than these guys. (turns back to the new recruits) Okay! You're in!

I sincerely wonder which kid came up with this. We can probably 1:1 them and say Taichi's a fan of punk and Mimi listens to reggae. Those aren't localizations of Japanese genres, either; They say "Punk" and "Reggae" in English.

(When will the Digimon video games officially acknowledge PunkAgumon and ReggaePalmon as proper evolutions? The ball's in your court, Bandai.)

In the dub, Nanimon notices Agumon and Palmon and calls out to them, rather than them having to call out and get his attention.

Nanimon: Can I help you two!? Agumon & Palmon: Yup! Palmon: We're a couple of renegade soldiers looking for a battle to fight! Agumon: We may look silly but underneath our cool exterior, we're fighting machines! Nanimon: Is that so? Who are ya? Agumon: I'm PunkAgumon! Palmon: I'm ReggaePalmon! Agumon & Palmon: Yeah! Nanimon: (looks at the assembled junk evos) ...What a couple of weirdos. (turns back to the new recruits) You're perfect! I'll take ya!

Between "we look silly" and "couple of weirdos", you can feel a localizer cringing over these disguises. Nanimon, you have no butt yet still throw poop. You don't get to talk shit.

Sadly, that costs us Nanimon's point that even these two clowns are an improvement over poop-throwing junk evos.

(A point he makes despite being a poop-throwing junko evo himself, but you heard what PicoDevimon said about his service record. This particular Nanimon is trying to make the leap to Digitamamon.)

Meanwhile, in Vamdemon's library.

He sits at a desk lit by a candelabra, poring over a musty old tome. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door.

Vamdemon: Enter. PicoDevimon: (pushing open the doors) Vamdemon-sama, reporting in. Soldiers are pouring in from everywhere. Vamdemon: Are they any good? PicoDevimon: Uh... Maybe?

Suddenly, a new voice roars with laughter, echoing through the room.

New Voice: AHAHAHAHAHA!!! Those alleged soldiers are pathetic. PicoDevimon: W-Who's there!?

She's not wrong.

In the dub, DemiDevimon lies to Myotismon's face.

Myotismon: Come in. DemiDevimon: Myotismon, I have some good news to report! The soldiers are assembled and we're ready to move out! Myotismon: Are they worthy of me? DemiDevimon: Yes, my Master. New Voice: Hahahahaha! They're a bunch of helpless sea slugs if you want my opinion. DemiDevimon: Who are you!? New Voice: (approaching in silhouette) Greetings, little blue one.

This new servant of darkness steps forward into the light of the candelabra, revealing herself.

The narrator goes straight into the rundown. Tailmon is an Adult-stage Vaccine-type Holy Beast Digimon. Her name comes from the English word Tail, likely to draw attention to the Holy Ring on her tail. It's kind of a big deal.

Narrator: Tailmon. She looks like a cute kitty, but pretty roses have thorns. Using her long, sharp claws, her special attack Neko Punch holds considerable power.

In the dub, she's called Gatomon. For the spanish word "gato", meaning cat. DemiDevimon handles her rundown.

DemiDevimon: Gatomon! Gatomon might look like a harmless little kitty, but deep down inside, she's an out-of-control wildcat! Don't ever cross her path!

Once intros are out of the way, Tailmon lays into PicoDevimon.

Tailmon: Are you planning to make a second-string army out of those useless idiots? PicoDevimon: Rrrrgh, if I had the chance-- Tailmon: (provoking) What? Gonna do something? Vamdemon: (rising from his chair) Stop that. More importantly, Tailmon, have you found anyone useful? Tailmon: Yes, sir! As you ordered, I've searched the world and found many!

As she speaks, we see the silhouettes of Tailmon's recruits. They look more formidable than Scumon, to be sure.

Vamdemon: I look forward to seeing how useful they are. Tailmon: Yes, sir!

In the dub, Gatomon and DemiDevimon do not implicitly threaten each other with violence.

Gatomon: Just where did you manage to find that group of goofballs anyway? DemiDevimon: RRRRRRGH!!! YOU CAN DO BETTER!?!? Gatomon: With my paws tied! Myotismon: (rising from his chair) Gatomon, don't waste your time on him! Have you done what I asked of you? Gatomon: Yes! Purr your instructions, I searched everywhere and found the most ferocious Digimon I could find. You'll be very pleased. Myotismon: I knew I could trust you, Gatomon. I look forward to meeting them. Gatomon: Thanks.

Dub Gatomon isn't quite so formal when speaking to Myotismon. Tailmon speaks directly as if she were a soldier talking to a commanding officer, bowing and kneeling in deference with respectful barks of "Hai!" to respond to him.

Gatomon is more playful, even making cat puns, which causes her bows and kneel to come off a bit more sarcastic. She is also incredibly well-voiced, holy shit. Her actress is having the time of her life.

Suddenly, a Bakemon floats through the wall.

Bakemon: Excuse the interruption, Vamdemon-sama. Vamdemon: What is it? Bakemon: The stone room is ready for your inspection.

Vamdemon turns back to Tailmon and PicoDevimon.

Vamdemon: You can go. Both: Yes, sir.

Tailmon's "Hai!" is, again, forceful and alert, like a proud underling. PicoDevimon's is weaker, sounding reluctant and obligatory.

In the dub, Bakemon makes no apology for intruding on Myotismon. Instead, he makes spooky monster noises like he's trying to frighten everyone.

Bakemon: NYAAARGHHHH RRRRRRGHHH.... Myotismon: (annoyed) What is it? Bakemon: We've prepared the room and it's ready for your inspection. Myotismon: (turning to the other two) Fine, the two of you are dismissed. Both: Right!

Gatomon and DemiDevimon deliver their lines in identical cadences, no real difference between them.

I have no idea why they thought Bakemon should snarl and gnash at Myotismon. And then he just goes straight to talking normal the second Myotismon talks to him. XD Like he was just trying to be as annoying as possible so he wouldn't have to wait around for Myotismon to address him.

Once Tailmon and PicoDevimon have left, Vamdemon uses a hidden lever in the bookshelf to open a secret door. He descends a long stairwell to a chamber deep underground, with a stone pedestal and a large metal door.

Bakemon: Vamdemon-sama? What is this, if I can ask? Vamdemon: Something passed down in myths from ancient times: The door to the other world. We will use this Gate to invade the human world!

Pretty straightforward. No changes in the dub.

Outside the castle walls, the kids confer with Gennai again.

Gennai: The Gate that connects to Japan should be somewhere inside this castle. Koushiro: So the reason Vamdemon left PicoDevimon to deal with us is because he was busy preparing to open the Gate. Gennai: That's right. Taichi: But what are Agumon and Palmon doing? They disguised themselves to enlist in the army and help us sneak in, but we haven't seen them since.

Closing the circuit on why Vamdemon didn't just come kill us all like Etemon would have. It's clear that he prioritizes the Eighth Child far above the other seven.

In the dub:

Gennai: According to my information, the Gate to the other world should be somewhere inside this castle. Izzy: My theory is that Myotismon sent DemiDevimon to distract us while he stayed behind to prepare the Gate. Truly an ingenious plan on his part! Gennai: A good theory, indeed! Tai: Agumon and Palmon have certainly been gone a long time. It's not that I'm worried, it's just that... Well, I hope they're looking for the location of the Gate.

Everybody here is wrong.

Izzy, your theory is bad and you should be ashamed. DemiDevimon wasn't distracting you from the Gate, he was trying to steal your Crests.

Gennai, don't encourage him.

Tai, the plan is not for them to go find the Gate all by themselves. Why would that be the plan? That's a terrible plan.

Inside the castle, Nanimon's working these recruits hard.

Doing pushups with the others, Palmon and Agumon can sense that they're being talked about.

Palmon: We'd like more than anything to help.... Agumon: But we're kind of busy right now! Nanimon: Next! Bunny hops!

The Digimon switch from pushups to hopping.

Nanimon: Listen up! Stretch those earholes wide open and listen good! Only the toughest survive on the battlefield! So toughen up, shut up, and ganbari!

Remember ganbaru from Jou and Yamato's episode? The cultural construct of hard work and perseverance through difficult times? Yep, Nanimon's trying to use it to whip his recruits into shape and they are not having it.

Numemon: We're supposed to ganbari? They haven't even fed us! I can't take any more! Nanimon: Hey! No chatting over there! As punishment, you're skipping dinner! Numemon: Oh no! I only enlisted because I heard I could eat my fill every night! Other Numemon: This sucks!

Honestly, nobody looks good here. These recruits are ill-suited to what PicoDevimon expects of them and Nanimon isn't helping.

Meanwhile, the dub makes the -ahem- questionable decision to keep Agumon silent while only Palmon whines about the training.

Palmon: I'm wilting! I wanna get out of here now! Ugh! Nanimon: Now hop like Bunnymon! Get the jelly out of your legs! I want you grunts to be tough! This battle's gonna be big, so get with it, you worthless warts! You gotta try like you've never tried before! Numemon 1: He's right! We've never tried before! Numemon 2: So why should we start now!? Nanimon: Listen up! Everybody that mouthed off will go without dinner tonight. You do understand me, don't you!? Numemon 1: No way! The food's the only reason we joined this dorky army in the first place! Other Numemon: Yeah yeah yeah....

Gonna file that under Mimi slander by proxy. Hmph!

But the rest of it does a pretty good job of making the bit work without ganbaru to lean on. "We've never tried before so why start now?" got me. XD

A short time later, the exhausted recruits take a break while a pair of Vegiemon massage Nanimon's biceps.

Yeah, this seems above-board and not at all an abuse of power.

Palmon: (whispering) if this keeps up, we won't have a chance to sneak everyone in. Agumon: (whispering) We have to do something about Nanimon.

The one Scumon in the group overhears Agumon, but hopefully not Palmon, and offers his two cents.

Scumon: I used to be in the same squad as him. Agumon: What? Scumon: Back then, he liked to throw his weight around but whenever a real battle started up, he'd get wasted on sake and do nothing at all. Chuumon: We should get him drunk on sake! Palmon: He's a heavy drinker, huh? Agumon: That just might work. Palmon: Eh? Agumon: We'll give him sake and get him to drink himself to sleep! Scumon: Great thinking! Chuumon: Nice idea! Agumon: But the two of us will stick out like sore thumbs if we try to sneak off. Palmon: You're right.... Numemon 1: Leave it to us, then! Numemon 2: There's so many of us here, he won't even notice if a few are missing! Palmon: Can you do it? Numemon 1: Of course! I'm pissed off that he won't let us eat! Here I go.

In the dub, Palmon and Agumon are just complaining about how tired they are. Sukamon comes up with the idea to mess with Nanimon, apropos of nothing.

Palmon: I'd like to soak in a hot tub for about two months! Agumon: I've got blisters on my blisters! Sukamon: I think we have to stop this guy and I know how to do it! Agumon: Yeah? Sukamon: I was a soldier with him before. He likes to drink soda but the bubbles go right to his head and make him as dipsy as a doodlemon. Chuumon: He gets real kooky and he'll do anything you want! Palmon: Even let us escape!? Agumon: I must be exhausted! Palmon: Why? Agumon: I thought I saw a little pink thing pop up and talk to us! Sukamon: His stomach will fill with bubbles. Chuumon: Yeah! He's sure to explode! Agumon: But if it explodes, won't he make us hang around and clean it up? Palmon: You're nutsy. Numemon 1: Forget the mess! We can all escape! Numemon 2: One of us should go and get some soda. He won't miss one of us. Palmon: That might work! Numemon 1: After that slob wouldn't let us have dinner, I'll open the bottles and pour 'em down his throat myself!

I sure am glad Sukamon is on the ball here because our Partner Digimon are fucking useless. Viruses over here making the plan to get our kids inside while Agumon and Palmon get high and contemplate the existence of Chuumon. Holy shit, this one's bad.

Why does everyone suddenly think we're trying to escape? Agumon and Palmon are here to infiltrate and the others want to be part of this army; They just don't like Nanimon specifically. It's not hard to see why.

The alcohol censorship is unsurprising, of course. You know how people with a low soda tolerance get. That soda goes straight to their head and makes 'em goofy. In fact, I'm gonna crack open a Dr. Pepper right now and take the edge off.

While Nanimon's massage keeps him distracted, that one Numemon slimes his way up the wall and through an open window.

Nanimon stands up suddenly.

Nanimon: ALRIGHT!!! Time to make a pyramid! Whole Squad: (feigning excitement) Yaaaay!

In Japan, kumitaiso or the human pyramid is a controversial gymnastics exercise that children of all ages are made to do in schools. Kind of odd as a military training exercise, but it's a point of reference that kids watching at home can point to and go "Oh, shit, yeah. That's hard!"

Numemon makes his way straight to the liquor cabinet and grabs a couple bottles.

Numemon: Just you wait. The grudge of food is deep and terrifying....

In the U.S., however, human pyramids are primarily associated with cheerleading. Not exactly a point of reference most kids will recognize. But also it's girly. Which I feel like was the deciding factor in how they take this, because what they replace it with isn't exactly standard elementary-school P.E. either.

Nanimon: Next up: Contact sports! How about wrestling!? Whole Squad/Sukamon: Oh boy!/You're the boss, yeah! (Numemon climbs in the window) Numemon: I wonder where... There! (grabs the bottles) This is what he gets for not feeding us!

Yeah, that's really more of a high school extracurricular sport. It fits the aesthetic, though; Nanimon certainly looks like a pro wrestler.

Nanimon leads the Digimon in an activity that's definitely wrestling and not at all that other thing.

Good ol' battle royale wrestling, where we all get in a big pile of bodies together and see what limbs we can grapple. Agumon's winning!

Nanimon: Hey! Hey! You pipsqueaks shouldn't get tired just from this! Don't lose focus!

While they're holding Nanimon's attention, Numemon sends a bottle floating out the window with a little parachute.

Nanimon: Huh? What's this? (catches the bottle) I-It's sake!

Which, in the dub, becomes:

Nanimon: Oh boy! Me likes orange.

Just as planned, Nanimon proceeds to get absolutely shitfaced as more and more bottles rain down.

Nanimon: (visibly wrestling with himself) Oh no! My body's moving on its own!

Nanimon tries to stop himself, but he can't. He's just gotta dance! He starts moving to a beat in his head, while rhythmically repeating the word yoi, for when something's pleasant or nice. The others do not help him.

Nanimon: Yoi-yoi-yoi-yoi.... Group: (cheering) YOI-YOI-YOI-YOI!!! Nanimon: ...yoi-yoi-yoi-yoi! Ahhh, I feel great!

Immediately after that announcement, Nanimon passes out.

The Digimon gather around him to celebrate their accomplishment.

Squad: HOORAY!!! Agumon: SUCCESS!!! Palmon: (to Agumon) Okay, let's go!

In the dub, meanwhile, Nanimon's getting bubbly.

Nanimon: (visibly wrestling with himself) Hey, anybody wanna go dancing? I'm light on my feet! (Nanimon starts dancing) Nanimon: Whoa ho ho whoa! Group: GO GO GO!!! Nanimon: (various grunts) Ha! Love that soda!

Courteous of him to remind us in the middle of his dance that he's high on carbonation fizz. It's just carbonation fizz. Remember, it's just carbonation fizz.

It's not super clear what takes him out all of a sudden, but he loudly vocalizes "WHOA!" type flailing grunts so I think we're meant to take it as him tripping and bonking his head. Nonetheless, the squad celebrates as if this was part of the plan.

Agumon: It worked. Group: YEAH!!! Agumon: Let's get out of here! Palmon: Before he wakes up! Agumon: YEAH!!! Palmon: Bubble fizz won't last forever!

It's just carbonation fizz.

With Nanimon out of the way, Agumon and Palmon are able to complete their part of the plan.

The kids wait impatiently with Gennai in the bushes outside their planned rendezvous.

(Can... Can we turn him off? We're trying to infiltrate here and he's a glowing rainbow hologram. What if a passing guard saw that shit?)

Taichi: (whispering) Aren't they here yet!? Yamato: (hissing) Be patient!

Palmon's vines suddenly lower from the tower above.

Mimi: Ahaha, Palmon! Palmon: Sorry for the wait! Taichi: Hooray!

As the kids make for Palmon's vines, Gennai leaves them with a warning.

Gennai: I won't be able to contact you in the castle, so you're on your own from here. Taichi: We'll take care of it! Gennai: You must stop Vamdemon's plans and protect your colleague (nakama) in Japan! Palmon: (sending the vines back down) Next! Hurry!

The dub shifts Tai's opening line to make his tone more sympathizing.

Tai: (whispering) I'm worried. Matt: (hisses) Just be patient. (Palmon's vines lower) Mimi: Hey, look! They're back! Palmon: Sorry, we had a big bruiser on our hands! Tai: Let's go! (The kids run for the vines) Gennai: My signal is useless inside the castle, so you are on your own. I'm counting on you. Tai: We got it covered! Gennai: I hope so! You must stop Myotismon from carrying out his plans and protect your friend in Japan! Palmon: (sending the vines back down) We'd better move it!

Aside from that small tonal shift in Tai's characterization at the start, it's mostly the same. Though, just as a fun note, they play a slide-whistle sound effect over Palmon retracting her vines to pull up Tai and Mimi. In the original, there's no sound effect associated with the vines stealthily pulling them up, though we do get a tiny wooshing sound as she sends them back down in both versions.

Either way, probably not as audible as Palmon shouting down at them to hustle. She is not good at espionage.

Inside the castle, Vamdemon contemplates a set of cards in his library, which are clearly computer chips.

Vamdemon: The key is within my grasp. Once I understand the meaning hidden in these cards, I have to place them in the proper order. Then the door to the other world will open. Chosen Children, no matter how hard you try, it's already too late. Hmhmhmhmhmhm.....

In the dub:

Myotismon: I must find the secret to the Gate. Once I understand the meaning of these cards, the key will open the lock. Then I will be able to enter the path to the human world. You DigiDestined think you're so smart but in reality I am always one step ahead of you! Hmhmhmhmhmhm....

Dude we just met last night. The insecurity of this man!

We go to commercial and come back to the kids exploring Vamdemon's castle in separate groups. I guess they split up?

And discovering for themselves that the castle was seemingly designed by M.C. Escher.

Patamon: That's.... Takeru: What's wrong? Patamon: Something's weird. Takeru: What is? (The kids approach the torch, burning in the wrong direction; Everyone gasps) Yamato: WHY!?!?

Yamato just sort of tuning into this conversation and then suddenly screaming at the torch got me. XD

Dub's about the same, but Matt's outburst is just a vocalized gasp. Instead of him. Yelling at the torch. For being wrong. XD

Meanwhile, the girls are with Jou. He's trying to break an iron lock off a wooden door by fiddling the lock with his bare hands.

Gomamon: How's it coming? Jou: It's very sturdy. That must mean that this is a very important room! Mimi: But doesn't this lock look rusty to you? Sora: Yeah. Maybe this room just hasn't been used in a long time. Jou: (stops) .... Pyokomon: Let's look somewhere else. Sora: Sounds good. (The girls start to leave while Jou remains frozen) Gomamon: Let's go, Jou! Jou: (distraught) I was so sure this was it. Eh.... (reluctantly follows the girls)

The dub removes Jou's comical oversight from this exchange.

Gomamon: Making any progress, Joe? Joe: No. This lock's ancient, but I still can't break it. Mimi: Maybe if we had the key, it would open. Sora: Yeah, and maybe if we had a cannon, we could blast our way in. Joe: (stops) It's no use! Yokomon: Maybe there's another way in! Sora: Let's check! (The girls start to leave while Joe remains frozen) Gomamon: Joe, let's go. Joe: (distraught; sigh) How come I never get to be the hero? (sighs again and reluctantly follows the girls)

It's always weird when they take gags out of the lighter and goofier dub version. It doesn't happen often, and it always makes me wonder what they didn't like about this bit. The new, weaker punchline is still Joe being humiliated; It's abstract humiliation about his role in the plot instead of direct humiliation about his bad decision-making.

Is it because Jou was shown up by girls? IDK.

Meanwhile, Taichi and Koushiro find themselves on opposite sides of the same bridge.

Taichi: I think we're lost. Agumon: Shit! Taichi: I'm sure we've passed through here before. Koushiro: (from below) Taichi-san! Taichi: (leans over railing) Koushiro!? You guys were searching down there? Tentomon: Eh? That's a weird thing to say. You two are below us. Agumon: No, you guys are below us! Koushiro: No, you are! (Taichi and Koushiro see each other over the railing) Taichi: Hey.... Koushiro: What the...? Group: Ehhh!?

This one's the same in the dub too.

Meanwhile, in his library, Vamdemon's ready to go.

Vamdemon: The time is ripe. Gather the soldiers in the stone room! PicoDevimon & Tailmon: Yes, sir!

Unlike last time, this time PicoDevimon and Tailmon reply to Vamdemon with the same energy. Once they're gone, he withdraws the computer chip cards from his cloak.

Vamdemon: I've made many preparations to open the Gate for the sake of my goals. But to think we're finally using them. First comes the eighth Chosen Child. Your dead body will serve as the foundation for my ambitions!

Shut away in his castle, Vamdemon has been researching and studying and planning this for a very long time. Ravenously devouring every last scrap of Chosen Children lore and other ancient secrets, while preparing this assault on Japan to kill the Eighth Child.

But now that it's finally here, that it's no longer theoretical but actually something we're doing, he takes a moment of privacy to orient himself.

In the dub:

Myotismon: I'm ready to proceed. Go now and tell our forces that no sacrifice is too great in this moment of glory! DemiDevimon & Gatomon: Right! (The pair departs) Myotismon: There's certainly no need to tell them that they won't be sharing in the rewards! I hold all of the cards, and they are no longer a mystery. Now all I need is to find that DigiDestined Eighth Child!

"Some of you may die, but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make!"

While Vamdemon prepares for departure, the kids manage to find each other again after... whatever made them split up to begin with.

Koushiro: This place is strange. The space here must be warped. Taichi: This isn't the first time we've seen this world acting weird. Yamato: But this place seems weirder than the others. Maybe it's because Vamdemon's power is so great. Jou: Don't say that.

I don't know about that, Yamato. Remember that time Nanomon's program made a short tunnel between two distant points in space? I feel like that's about as weird as contextual gravity.

Given everything we've seen of Vamdemon to this point, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that his castle's like this because he's extensively well-researched and is pretty good at coding. I bet he wrote the entire castle himself.

Over in the dub, the kids seem to be under the impression that they've been made. Which given that "Make any sacrifices!" order Myotismon gave, might be true in this version.

Izzy: My theory is that Myotismon has set up these optical illusions to deter us from finding the Gate. Tai: Well, I'd say he succeeded! We're still as lost as we were before we started! Matt: All we've done so far is go round and round in circles, and we don't know up from down! Joe: It's making me dizzy!

This weird Escher painting of a labyrinth is like that as a fiendish plot to delay the DigiDestined from coming in and dying at Myotismon's hand! Instead of the castle just... being like that.

Hey, Izzy? If this is a trap, why aren't there any traps? Just saying. Mr. "Alien scheme" is still using many words to confidently and intellectually assert things that are wrong.

Suddenly, Gomamon notices movement nearby. Over on another bridge, oriented upside-down from our orientation, Tailmon's actually tough recruits march to the Gate chamber. They say no words, only giving off various horrifying bestial sounds.

The dub cuts out most of the horrific monster noises and just has them quip.

Unknown Digimon 1: I'm itching to fight! Unknown Digimon 2: Why, 'cause you got fleas?

Not nearly as intimidating. The kids watch in silence as the monsters pass by, then whisper to each other.

Yamato: They're about to depart. Sora: We should follow them. Taichi: Agreed. Let's go!

No change in the dub.

The kids follow Tailmon's creatures, crossing their own bridge to enter the same structure as the Digimon did. Inside, both Tailmon's forces and PicoDevimon's meager recruits assemble in front of the pedestal to open the Gate.

As his recently-hired mercenary force assembles, Vamdemon gives them their instructions.

Vamdemon: Listen up! Your target is the Eighth Chosen Child. Find them and put an end to them. Envelop everything in darkness and dark power!

He lays out the cards on the table and gives a, uh... magic incantation, of a sort.

Vamdemon: Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius!

This passphrase to open the gate between worlds is actually the title of a short story from Argentina. That connection is... Honestly fascinating? The story details the efforts of a conspiracy of men to invent a fictional world, Tlön, in which objective reality doesn't exist. The only true reality in Tlön is the reality that we perceive. Reality is a collective delusion, a product of our agreement that it exists.

Tlön is a fiction, a fantasy of a place where this is true. But over time, as it becomes known, it begins to impose itself on material reality. Objects and ideas from this fictional world of speculative reality begin to emerge into material reality, invading the real world and making themselves real.

You. Uh. You can see the connection between that idea and Vamdemon's invasion of Japan, right? The Digimon World is a digital Tlön, a world of subjective reality constructed from collective ideas. Vamdemon exists because vampires and demons are things that exist within the library of humanity's cultural creations, and so in this subjective space born out of the accumulated data of the Earth, vampires and demons take material form.

Now Vamdemon's subjective reality is about to impose itself upon the material world pretty fucking hard. Essentially, we are experiencing the imposition of Tlön into the world from the side of Tlön, after spending months lost in its impossible wildernesses.

After much research, Vamdemon has determined that this Argentinian tale is the pass phrase to begin the invasion - as if the story itself was the key to imposing subjective reality upon the material. Invoking Tlön to empower the Digimon World to do to the real world what was done to the fictional world in the story by the fictional-fictional world of Tlön. Layers of subjective reality.

The dub, meanwhile, seems to be under the impression that Myotismon is going alone?

Myotismon: I shall now be embarking on a journey to another world. There are forces which must be neutralized before our victory here can be complete. But never fear! I shall return in triumph! Gathered Forces: YEAH!!! WOOHOO!!! Myotismon: (lays down the cards) It's time to stand back and watch me work my magic! OPEN THE GATE TO MY DESTINY!!!

Not gonna mark them down for not expecting nine-year-olds to know an obscure Argentinian short story. That's one of the least surprising changes in the anime.

But. Like. Myotismon, what the hell did you gather all these soldiers for if you aren't taking them with you? Are they just supposed to stand here and watch the Gate? He mobilized them all here so he could tell them "Buh-bye" and scoot?

Contrary to the speech Myotismon just gave, Tailmon/Gatomon nonetheless begins moving her forces through the Gate the instant it opens. The dub even lets them make monster noises this time, particularly an eerie high-pitched wailing like the screams of the damned.

So. I guess Myotismon wasn't talking to them. ...who the fuck was he talking to? This was a weird speech.

As his troops pass through the portal, Vamdemon heads for his carriage. Before he can get in, Taichi calls out from the staircase.

Taichi: Hold it! You won't get away with this! Vamdemon: Oh, you're finally here. But you're too late. Look well upon this historic moment! Taichi: Cut the crap! Vamdemon: Unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with you. PicoDevimon? PicoDevimon: Yes, sir! Vamdemon: Stop them. PicoDevimon: Understood!

Vamdemon's last line is delivered with little energy, as if he doesn't honestly expect this to go well for PicoDevimon. Less "VANQUISH MY FOES!!!" and more "Uh, get 'em, I guess; Have fun with that." He's tactically throwing PicoDevimon to the wolves.

Their real forces, Tailmon's army, are already through the portal and have entered Japan. If PicoDevimon and his recruits all have to die here to buy Vamdemon five seconds of time to pass through, it's no skin off his back.

In the dub, either Myotismon forgot who these kids are or he's patronizing them.

Tai: You're not going anywhere! Not as long as we can help it! Myotismon: What is your name? Do you work for me? Can't you see I'm busy at the moment? Tai: Yeah, right! Myotismon: DemiDevimon, would you please take care of this annoying gang of hoodlums? I have better things to do. DemiDevimon: Of course, sir. Anything you want. I'm at your service!

Vamdemon's "Stop them" is so devoid of any real energy or enthusiasm that they get away with compositing his lines into one here. During DemiDevimon's last line, Myotismon's lips flap for it, but it's super easy to overlook if you don't already know it's there.

While Vamdemon gets in his carriage to depart, Nanimon brings PicoDevimon's forces forward.

Taichi: WAIT!!! PicoDevimon: (moves in to block the kids' pursuit, backed up by Nanimon and the others) Taichi: You still think you can win after all the times we've beaten you? PicoDevimon: This won't be like those times! Sensei, get them!

PicoDevimon retreats to the back of the group while Nanimon replaces him, stepping up to lead his forces into battle.

Nanimon: Got it! I won't let you pass! Taichi: DON'T GET IN OUR WAY!!!

We briefly see Vamdemon enter his carriage silent to depart while Taichi's shouting.

Nanimon: Soldiers! SEIZE THEM!!! Soldiers: (unenthused) Rargh! Agumon: I don't want to fight any of you, but we're running out of time. Palmon: Please forgive us.

Nanimon and PicoDevimon are the only ones enthused about this battle. Including Vamdemon.

In the dub:

DemiDevimon: I'm not letting you get past this Gate! Tai: Fat chance, you little twerp! DemiDevimon: I brought reinforcements! It's all yours, Nanimon. Nanimon: (steps forward to replace DemiDevimon) Right! Don't even think about passing by me, you got it! Myotismon: (entering his carriage) Farewell, DigiDoomed! Nanimon: Okay, let's FIIIIIGHT!!! Soldiers: (unenthused) Yeah! Agumon: We don't wanna fight you guys but the future is at stake. Palmon: You'll have to forgive us!

Taichi's line is changed so that Myotismon can drop some parting jabs about how definitely screwed the kids are in the face of this overwhelming force. Between this and the tonal shift in how his orders were given, Myotismon seems way more optimistic about DemiDevimon's chances than Vamdemon is.

At long last, it's go time. The Partner Digimon evolve to meet the forces arrayed against them! A fierce battle is ready to explode!

PicoDevimon's soldiers immediately break ranks and nope the fuck on out of there.

Nanimon: HEY!!! EVERYONE!!! FLEEING FROM THE ENEMY IS A FELONY!!! Numemon: Who cares!? You didn't even feed us! Scumon: I'd rather go work for an honest living!

In the dub:

Nanimon: I ORDER EVERYONE BACK INTO RANKS!!! Numemon: Right now!? Nanimon: Come on, I'll buy you dinner! Sukamon: Too late now! We're going for some fast food!

The two versions are very different, but both serve to pay off the ongoing subplot about Nanimon denying them dinner.

That's okay. We've still got Nanimon. The odds may seem against PicoDevimon's defense force, but Nanimon is a veteran soldier with a master plan that he's ready to put into action.

Nanimon: Surrender! I surrender! PicoDevimon: Sensei, you can't do that! Nanimon: Shut up! Only the toughest survive on the battlefield, but you won't survive if being tough is all you have. Escaping from a fight is also a victory, right? Taichi: GO HOME!!! Nanimon: (bolts from the room) PARDON THE INTRUSION!!!

So ends the saga of PicoDevimon's fiendish army.

In the dub:

Nanimon: Whoa! Y-y-you're big! (contemplative) Hm mm mm... (white flag) Anybody need a wrestling coach? DemiDevimon: HEY!!! YOU CAN'T RESIGN!!! Nanimon: You wanna bet, pipsqueak? When it comes down to having my fanny kicked, I'm out of here. And if you don't believe me, you might check the fine print on my contract! Tai: WE'RE COMING THROUGH!!! Nanimon: (bolts from the room) DON'T LET ME STAND IN YOUR WAY!!! WHOA HO HO!!!

Both versions of PicoDevimon's forces collapsing are pretty good. Of note, the dub seems to be trying to preserve Nanimon's dignity. Both versions are craven, but Nanimon's confidence never falters in the English version; He's proud of his cowardice.

A difference of "LOL I'm out of here bitches!" vs "FUCK THIS!!! I CHOOSE LIFE!!!".

Which is, in its own way, equally ridiculous. The dub's idea that Nanimon was just a paper tiger grifting DemiDevimon this whole time meshes pretty well with Scumon's anecdote about Nanimon getting wasted and never showing up to battles. Though, ironically, that part of his backstory got thrown out with the sake when it came time for Sukamon to tell the tale.

Sadly, we lose Taichi snapping "GO HOME!!!" and Nanimon instantly complying, which is the funniest part of this entire confrontation.

As Nanimon flees, he shits himself, leaving behind a single poop which lands on PicoDevimon's head. PicoDevimon is so panicked, he doesn't even notice.

Yamato: So, what will you do now? PicoDevimon: Th-This isn't fair! It's five against one! Takeru: Hey, let's get rid of this guy and hurry on through. PicoDevimon: E-Even you would say that? (crying desperately) Damn it, how did this happen!?

When even Takeru is like, "Can we just waste this asshole?" you know you've fucked up.

In the dub, the kids try to take DemiDevimon prisoner or something.

Matt: You might as well give up! DemiDevimon: I'm outnumbered! Good help is so hard to find! T.K.: Just admit you picked the wrong side and give it a rest already! DemiDevimon: If you're trying to prank me, it won't work! (crying desperately)

DemiDevimon just vocalizes exaggerated teeth-grinding crying noises for the second half of that last line. This bit does not flow well at all.

In sheer desperation, PicoDevimon attacks suddenly with his Pico Darts. Patamon knocks his syringes out of the sky with an Air Shot, sending them clattering to the ground at PicoDevimon's feet.

But then a new player enters the field.

Sora: The Gate is closing! Taichi: Playtime's over! Let's go!

The kids sprint for the door. But before they can reach PicoDevimon's position, a new reinforcement arrives. Tailmon, standing guard at the Gate, leaps over in front of PicoDevimon to intervene.

Tailmon: Honestly, I can't stand watching this anymore. Jou: Another small fry. Shoo-shoo! Out of the way! You don't want to get hurt, do you? Tailmon: I see you underestimate me. Watch this.

Tailmon proceeds to demonstrate her strength with a show of force.

Leaping up into the air, she uses consecutive Neko Kicks to lay out Greymon, Kabuterimon, and Ikkakumon.

To edit out the syringes (even though we already saw them last episode), the dub cuts everything from PicoDevimon throwing his Pico Darts to here. The conversation with Tailmon takes place with visible syringes on the ground so that has to go too.

For their version, we go straight from DemiDevimon crying to Gatomon kicking Greymon, with just one line to bridge the gap.

Gatomon: You haven't dealt with me yet!

It's the largest single chunk of carved-out material thus far.

Which is kind of a shame, because this bit is a really interesting characterization moment for Tailmon. The way she intervenes and takes over right when they're about to kill PicoDevimon is... ambiguous. Did she come back to protect him and help him through the Gate? Or is she just trying to prevent the children from passing through? An interesting question.

In the dub, she attacks out of nowhere and is pretty clearly just the last evil minion standing between the children and the Gate.

The dub also plays comical bonking sounds for each of her kicks. Additionally, when they fall over, they add in the tree-falling effect usually associated with cartoon "TIMBERRRRRR!!!" lumberjack bits.

Togemon and Garurumon move in to engage Tailmon. Togemon tries to crush her with a punch, but Tailmon springs into the air, landing on Garurumon's snout. From there, she bounds back and forth between them, keeping away from their punches and slashes.

Taichi: Now! Sora: Let's go!

While Garurumon and Togemon keep Tailmon busy, Taichi sees a chance to run for the Gate and takes it. The rest of the group following on his heels. But Tailmon spots them out of the corner of her eye, and she isn't going to let them go.

Tailmon: YOU WON'T GET AWAY!!!

The ring on Tailmon's tail glows with energy, causing gargoyles at the top of the room to come to life, becoming more of those beasts pulling Vamdemon's carriage.

Which we are finally formally introduced to.

This is Devidramon, literally the Devil Dragon Digimon. An Adult-stage Virus-type Evil Dragon Digimon. Despite his obvious resemblance to Devimon and DemiDevimon, Devidramon has no relation to them on the evolutionary chart.

Narrator: Devidramon. An evil dragon Digimon called the Multi-Eyed Demon. His nails can tear through flesh and skewer his enemies from long distance. His special attack is Crimson Nail.

Not to be confused with WereGarurumon's Kaiser Nail.

Gatomon handles the dub's rundown.

Gatomon: Devidramon! He's one nasty dragon guarding the gate. Devi doesn't like losing. If you want a real surprise / Look into his eyes! / You'll be hypnotized.

I have no idea why she suddenly starts rhyming. But it sets up what comes next pretty well.

The Adult-stage Partners open fire on the three Devidramon that Tailmon awakened. However, as usual, trying to shoot something with three dimensions of agility proves futile, as shots miss left and right. Flying is OP in a projectile-based combat system.

The Devidramon's eyes glow and the air shimmers around the Partners, stopping them in place momentarily. Then the Devidramon move in and slash with their Crimson Nails.

PicoDevimon: That's it! That's it! Get 'em! Get 'em! Togemon: Keep up the assault!

The team finds their second wind and renews their attack. Kabuterimon throws a Devidramon against a wall, where Greymon and Garurumon pummel it with Mega Flame and Fox Fire. The Devidramon disintegates into pixels under their assault.

PicoDevimon goes for the Gate, but Patamon's taken a guarding position there. He batters PicoDevimon with an Air Shot to launch him back into the room with everyone else.

With two Devidramon remaining, Greymon tackles one to force open a path to the Gate. In the dub, he taunts:

Greymon: Come to Papa, lizard breath!

But the second Devidramon cuts in to block the kids once more. Taichi's determination super-evolves Greymon into MetalGreymon, instantly changing the tide of the battle.

The kids take cover behind MetalGreymon while he fucking erases the two Devidramon with his Giga Destroyer, then reverts to Koromon.

Taichi: Thank you, Koromon. Let's go, everyone! Others: Right!

The path now clear, the kids sprint as fast as they can to reach the door. However, someone else has already gotten there.

Patamon: HURRY!!! EVERYONE!!!

Patamon screams at them, still wrestling with PicoDevimon. Gatomon, already within the Gate, bats Patamon aside and frees PicoDevimon to make it through as well. Much more explicitly taking action to protect him.

In the dub, it's DemiDevimon who speaks here.

DemiDevimon: GET OFF OF ME!!!

Once PicoDevimon's through, Tailmon turns her attention back to the children.

Tailmon: Can't let you guys pass!

Tailmon's tail ring glows again, awakening two more Devidramon.

In the dub:

Gatomon: Sorry, but you're too late! I'll miss you in Japan!

This doesn't connect very well to the action she's taking, but still works as a taunt.

The Digimon dogpile on these two to keep them out of the way. Dub Tai inexplicably orders his group:

Tai: Get ready to jump!

Even though there is nothing for them to jump over.

But it's too late.

Tailmon: Bye-bye!

Seconds before Taichi at the front can reach it, the Gate closes, closing off the children from reaching Japan and leaving them still trapped in the Digimon World.

Taichi: It can't be.... Sora: We were so close!

Taichi pounds his fist on the iron door, to no avail. His voice breaking up.

Taichi: DAMMIT!!! Now the Eighth Child will be....

While Dub Tai is about as broken up.

Tai: NO!!! OPEN UP!!! OPEN!!! It can't be.... (vocalized sobbing)

The episode closes here on this hopeless moment.

And debuts the unbelievably tone-destroying lighthearted and upbeat new EP! Which is riddled with spoilers, holy shit.

Hikari's identity as the Eighth Child was already pretty clearly stated way back in Taichi's return home episode. But they give away who her Partner Digimon is (which is kind of a big fucking reveal) and also all of the remaining Perfect-stage Evolutions, including Angemon's evolution which won't come into play until the very end of the series.

And then they end on WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon just for good measure. Man, sometimes I forget how unapologetically spoiler-heavy Japanese media is sometimes. They do not give a fuck.

Assessment: I've always kind of felt like Myotismon was just Devimon But More. Same personality type. I was okay with that, since Myotismon is an evolved Devimon. But I'm seeing more nuance here, going through this.

Vamdemon does have his own niche, distinctive from Devimon and Etemon. Devimon was kind of a tinkerer. He had an evil plan, but it was something he constructed from the ground up. He made these gears and he was going to infect the world with them, and he had a bunch of way he could manipulate his tools to great effect. That was his thing.

And Etemon was... Etemon.

Vamdemon is a scholar. The reason he's been inactive through the arc thus far is because he's been sitting in his library ravenously devouring ancient histories and secret myths and as much Chosen Children lore as he could possibly find. Learning everything he possibly can about everything he possibly can.

He's better read than Gennai, as demonstrated by Gennai fumbling to keep up with him in this episode.

He's evil Koushiro. Right down to the fact that this arc would have been over several episodes if he just put down the tomes, went outside for five minutes, and throttled some children while they were still separated. He's a little too invested in theoretical physics when practical application is amassing its forces around him.

There's also something appropriately Bram Stoker about first meeting Vamdemon on his turf, only to have to chase him back to our home country and protect a young woman from his malevolence.

For the dub, I'm gonna call this another butcher job. There were a few points where they didn't have much choice due to censors, like Nanimon's love of sake, but there's also a lot of just weird lines and questionable choices in this one.

But credit where it's due, I super appreciate that we've stopped talking around it, aren't trying to gaslight the kiddos about it, and are finally just saying "Japan." There are plenty of dub teams that would swear up and down that we're going to Southern California, but Digimon Adventure has decided they're gonna take that leap.

[melit0n]

In no particular order, (or in order, if you can rank them) what are your top 5 Ethel Cain songs? 🎤

Oh Tonee, this is like opening up one of five music based Pandora boxes for me 😭 please forgive the rambling.

Family Tree from Preacher's Daughter

This song drives me MAD. I could talk about her vocals in every song, but her voice in this makes me buzz. The bass throughout is ominous and incredible: same can be said for the SFX. I'm a sucker for when artists add in extra things like that. The flies put me on edge (which links it to Ptolemaea and eventually Sun Bleached Flies) and the bell ringing out during the first chorus makes me feel like I'm attending a funeral. Literally 'for whom the bell tolls', which kind of foreshadows her death later on in the album.

I genuinely think the lyrics are the closets I've come to a religious experience. "They say 'Heaven hath no fury like a woman's scorn', and baby Hell don't scare me, I've been times before." Insane. Ate and left not a single crumb. Her dead tone on "I've killed before and I'll kill again", being a callback to Two-Headed Mother's "I've loved before, I'll kill again" is just. Ugh. I can't even describe it.

+ Special mention to Family Tree (intro). I haven't, and will probably never, get over "Jesus can always reject his father, but he cannot escape his mother's blood."

Televangelism from Preacher's Daughter

There's very few songs, to me, that encapsulate a painful yet quiet death well, and this is certainly one of them. It's a solemnly comforting tune. Considering lore wise, it's meant to represent Ethel's soul coming out of the basement after she's been killed, it makes sense.

The first half genuinely sounds like something the pianist in my Catholic School used to play before prayer started. The fact that it was entirely improvised is absolutely insane, too.

Plus, the incredibly smooth switch from August Underground to this is brilliant.

Ptolemaea from Preacher's Daughter

Literally every part of this song is amazing (pretty much all of Preacher's Daughter is a work of art to be honest). It's definitely one of the few songs that genuinely unnerves me; still has the same creeping, fearful effect after the hundreds of time that I've listened to it.

First, off: The title is a reference to the ninth and final layer of Dante's Inferno: betrayal. Ptolemy commits treachery (a betrayal of trust), which lands him in the ninth circle, hence its name. This is what Isaiah does to Ethel. It's a somewhat niche reference that I love.

Secondly, Death's monologue (some people also interpret this voice as Isaiah, the man who kills and cannablises Ethel by the end of PD, but I'm just generalising it as The Grim Reaper) is so, so eerie. The repetition switching between "Heard you, saw you, felt you, gave you" to "Need you, love you, love you, love you" with Ethel screaming and asking for him to stop in the background always gives me chills.

Thirdly, all the lyrics go hard in this one. "Calling me the one, I'm the white light: beautiful, finite", "Even the iron still fears the rot" and "I am the face of love's rage" are some of my favourites.

Honestly? The entire song puts me on edge. Listening to it, I feel like I'm millimetres away from the sharp point of a knife. The build up to her screaming "stop" is full of panic, but cathartic.

Two-Headed Mother from Inbred

The distorted guitar at the start mixed with her vocals itches my brain so well. Her tone and dictation in this is really 'soft' too, and more spoken than sang, which I adore. It sounds less like a song and more like being hummed an eerie tune as you drift in and out of sleep.

Overall, despite the topic (of both the song and album in general: it's called Inbred for a reason) the beat is an absolute groove. Never in my life would I have expected a song about trauma passed on from a mother so a daughter to have such a blend to it.

On the note of the topic, just, hello?? It mixes a mother's hatred and love and passes it down to a child who sees it in every man she sees. Let alone paints her lover in a horrible image in order to remove guilt from how badly she's treating him. Just how her dead mother still has dictation over her, she exerts the same amount of control on her lover. She knows very well that her two headed mother brought her here and can send her right back.

Head in the Wall from Golden Age

This one just encapsulates so, so much religious based anger and debilitating depression. Every single lyric oozes with pain and I always have to like, sit down when this comes on.

Growing up a Catholic kid, in a not so nice religious environment, yeah. Just yeah. Misogyny was rife and "It's always my fault: girls will be bitches, and boys will be boys" resonates with me a lot. I could say a prayer wrong and be told to sit outside in Winter to do my work for the rest of the day, and a boy could chase me around the playground, pull my hair and try to punch me and it's still be my fault because boys will be boys.

The whole song just illustrates a very depressive mindset, being more angry towards yourself, and then moving on to environmental factors to try and shift blame in an attempt to stop feeling shitty. For those reasons, I don't listen to Golden Age or Carpet Bed all too much because they sucker punch me right in the chest a little bit too painfully, but HITW is still a favourite.