#japanese folklore au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainforestakiie · 3 months ago

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hi! i am back with part 02 of Promised Soul! i had to split it, so there will be part 03 and that will be posted soon! maybe even later tonight?

i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, and Japanese folklore.

ahhh! i really love this!

this is an adamapple fic placed in the omegaverse.

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

A full week had passed since his encounter with Lilith, and Adam had become a ghost in his own flat, refusing to leave the cocoon of blankets and pillows he’d built on his bed. He had wrapped himself so tightly in the comfort nest that it felt like a fragile sanctuary against the world outside. He didn’t care if he grew thinner from not eating; the gnawing emptiness inside him was far more consuming. He was just so... tired. Tired of everything, tired of trying to pretend he mattered to anyone.

Lilith had been his only friend, the one person he thought might see something special in him. But that hope had been shattered. The pain of it was a dull, constant ache, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. Adam’s eyes misted over at the mere thought of her. Lilith didn’t care about him, not even a little. She saw him as nothing more than the dirt that clung to the statues of Quetzalcoatl, not even worth the effort to brush off. He wasn’t worth anything. He’d left Eden hoping to find something, someone, but after a year of checking the empty letterbox for messages from his clan, he’d finally stopped looking. It was the same hollow pain twisting in his chest, a reminder that he was truly alone.

If even Lilith didn’t want him, what hope did he have of finding a mate? The realization crushed him, and he buried his face in the blankets, curling up tightly as his tears spilled over, tracing paths down his grey cheeks. It was so cruel—his skin didn’t even redden or blotch from crying. He just felt sore and clammy, the emotional storm leaving no visible marks, as if the world refused to acknowledge his suffering.

Adam hiccuped, digging his knuckles into his eyes as if he could rub away the burning sadness. Why? Why hadn’t he burned? Why didn’t he undergo the ash-fall like every other baby Phoenix? Why didn’t he rise in flames, reborn anew? Why was he so different? Why didn’t anyone care?

His sobs grew louder, more desperate, as he pressed his face into his knees until it hurt. He hated it. Hated himself. Hated this life that had betrayed him at every turn.

“I hate myself so much,” he whispered between ragged sobs. “I hate being me. Why couldn’t I have been something else? I’d have been happy as a bloody Imp!”

His cries deepened, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps as the sobs shook his frail body. Snot clogged his nose, and a dull cramp began to form from lying in the same position for so long. With a groan, Adam finally dragged himself out of the nest, his back and legs cracking as he shakily stood. He swayed on his feet, his arms instinctively reaching out to steady himself, but he stumbled forward, catching himself against the small, grimy window.

Adam grunted, his nose bumping against the cold glass. He rubbed it absently before peeling himself away from the wall, just as a flash of light caught his eye. His brows furrowed as he saw another burst of green and purple light flickering in the distance, though the filth on the window made it hard to see. Twisting his fingers around the rusty window handle, he forced it open with a screech that echoed through the quiet room. The warm, dry air hit his face immediately, a sign of the approaching return of their god and the blood sacrifices that would follow.

Ignoring the screeching hinges, Adam pushed the window as far open as it would go and stretched onto his tiptoes to get a better view of the city. Everything seemed normal, the city’s lights twinkling in the distance, and the people below going about their business. He groaned deeply, resting his arms on the windowsill and laying his chin on top. The night sky was empty, not a single star to break the oppressive darkness. It was sad how warm it was despite the hour; the nights had always been cold before.

His eyes grew heavy, his long lashes fluttering as he began to doze off, the exhaustion finally pulling him under. But just as he drifted into uneasy sleep, a sudden flash of light jolted him awake. His heart raced as he glanced around frantically, his eyes locking onto the tip of Quetzalcoatl’s temple. A string of silent lightning struck it, sending ripples of green, red, and blue through the sky.

Adam’s breath hitched, his skin prickling as every hair on his body stood on end. He leaned forward, trying to see if anyone else had noticed the strange lightning, but the creatures below continued with their lives, oblivious. Trolls played a game of stones, completely unaware of the unnatural phenomenon unfolding above them.

“What?” Adam whispered, his voice trembling.

His eyes flicked between the trolls and the temple, but none of them seemed to see the lightning. Blinking rapidly in confusion, Adam turned back to the temple just in time to see another flash—pink, purple, and gold this time—illuminating the sky and casting misty clouds in its wake.

Then he saw it. His breath caught in his throat as the shape of a serpent formed from the mist, a massive creature with six enormous wings, arching over the temple like a guardian from a forgotten age. The serpent seemed to stretch ten times the size of the city, a divine being made of light and shadow. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, leaving nothing behind, not even a trace of the misty clouds.

Adam’s heart thundered in his chest, his fingers trembling with an urgent need to move. A powerful force seemed to pull at him, yanking him towards the temple with an intensity that made his knees buckle. A wetness began to pool within him, and for a moment, he feared he might collapse.

He had to go. The urge was overwhelming, a compulsion that left no room for doubt. He had always felt drawn to the temple, always found a strange fascination in the statues of Quetzalcoatl, but this was different. This was terrifying, overwhelming—and completely irresistible.

Without another thought, Adam backed away from the window, his heart pounding in his chest as the flicker of a flame stirred within him, small but growing, as if awakened by the divine presence he had just witnessed.

He had to go to the temple.

Now.

Nothing else mattered.

Adam had no choice. He simply couldn’t resist it. The fire within his chest, like a Phoenix reborn, had ignited into a fierce, magnetic pull that tugged at his very soul. It felt as if an unseen force had cast a line and hook into his heart, reeling him in like one of the lesser Cetus-fishers snaring a catch from the abyss. His feet shuffled forward, then back, as though he were caught in the sway of hypnotic waves that rolled through him, relentless and undeniable.

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to banish the compulsion, but it was no use. With a sudden, sharp turn, he surrendered to the pull, despite the absurdity of his situation. Clad only in flimsy black pyjamas and an oversized blue sweater, barefoot and utterly unprepared, Adam was clearly not in his right mind. The one rational thought that should have sent him racing back to his flat, to burrow himself in the safety of his cocoon, seemed to have been smothered by the overwhelming force tugging him onward.

The Jorōgumo.

The Jorōgumo women of Pentagram City, ever-vigilant, always prowled the temple grounds, ready to ensnare any creature foolish enough to trespass into their sacrificial domain. Those who were caught faced a fate too horrific to fully comprehend—some strung up with their insides spilling out, others torn limb from limb, and many more cocooned in slick to be fed to the Jorōgumo’s ravenous younglings. It was a death beyond nightmares, a terrible way to end.

And yet, here Adam was, his mind fogged with the weight of invisible feathers, lured from the sanctuary of his apartment by an unseen, seductive force. He had lived in that building since he was eighteen, ever since he had fled from Eden, and now something was leading him astray, gently but irresistibly drawing him out into the night. He stumbled down the streets, clumsily bumping into other creatures, his eyes wide and glassy, his face ghostly pale. It was as if he were trapped in a trance, drifting helplessly through the twisting, labyrinthine streets of the inner city, lost in the grip of something far beyond his control.

Adam stumbled forward, his shoulder colliding hard against a towering Alpha Goblin. A deep grunt escaped the creature as he struggled to regain his footing, his large, fish-like lips curling into a menacing sneer that revealed rows of jagged teeth.

"Oi!" the Goblin snarled, swiftly closing the distance between them and seizing Adam's arm with a vice-like grip. He yanked him back forcefully, causing Adam to nearly topple into his slimy, pungent chest. "Are you blind or somethin'? You ran into me! Apologize!"

A small, distressed whimper slipped from Adam's lips as his glazed eyes darted around the cluttered street. Torn newspapers danced in the cold breeze, and a collage of tattered flyers clung desperately to the dilapidated grey and red walls surrounding them. Above, the seedy neon lights of a nightclub sign flickered erratically, casting eerie red and blue shadows across the grimy pavement.

"Hello! Are you even listening to me?" the Goblin barked, shaking Adam roughly like a rag doll. "You bump into me and just go silent? Where's your manners?"

Adam's mouth opened and closed soundlessly, words failing him as an overwhelming sense of wrongness crawled beneath his skin. The Goblin's touch felt invasive, unnatural, and every instinct within him screamed to break free and continue toward the temple that beckoned him with an unseen, irresistible force.

Squinting up at the grotesque figure, Adam took in the Goblin's unnaturally long limbs that dangled almost to his ankles, the sagging folds of his sallow skin, and the oversized, bulbous head that seemed too heavy for his frail body. His feet were enormous and misshapen, adding to his unsettling appearance.

"What's the matter? You deaf?" the Goblin snapped impatiently. "Say you're sorry!"

Adam's vacant stare bore into the Goblin, an unsettling intensity that made the creature shift uneasily. The Goblin's bravado faltered as he leaned back, his beady eyes narrowing with recognition.

"Wait a minute... I know you," he muttered, a sly grin creeping across his slimy lips. "You're that unburned Phoenix Omega, aren't you? Couldn't even rebirth properly, huh?" His gaze swept over Adam with contempt. "You certainly don't look like much of a Phoenix. Not desirable at all."

A cold chill sliced through Adam's core, the words striking a tender, wounded place within him. He had always known he was different, lacking the fiery brilliance and allure of other Phoenix Omegas.

Before he could process his actions, a sharp retort burst from his lips. "Well, you're not exactly a sight for sore eyes yourself, princess!"

The Goblin's eyes widened in astonishment before narrowing into slits of rage. He puffed out his chest, releasing a thick, musky scent meant to assert dominance and force submission. The air grew heavy and oppressive, laden with the stench of swamp and decay that made Adam's stomach churn and his eyes water.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" the Goblin croaked, his voice bubbling with fury. "I'm an Alpha, and you're just an Omega! Know your place and show some respect, especially after your rudeness!"

As the noxious pheromones assaulted his senses, Adam's face contorted in disgust, his nostrils flaring as he fought the urge to gag. Seeing the Goblin lunge toward him once more, Adam acted on pure instinct. He twisted free from the clammy grasp and delivered a swift, powerful kick squarely into the Goblin's chest.

A sharp crack echoed through the night as the blow sent the unsuspecting Alpha stumbling backward. He tripped over his own cumbersome feet and crashed into a heap of overflowing trash bins, the metallic clatter resonating down the deserted street. A loose lid toppled onto his head, rendering him unconscious amid the scattered refuse.

Breathless and wide-eyed, Adam stared at the fallen Goblin in disbelief, a tremor running through his entire body. His heart pounded against his ribs as he frantically glanced around, relief washing over him when he realized no one had witnessed the altercation.

"Thank Quetzalcoatl," he murmured under his breath, a sense of urgency rekindling within him.

As if on cue, a gentle, unseen presence brushed over him, tenderly guiding his gaze back toward the direction of the temple. The ethereal pull intensified, enveloping him in a comforting yet insistent embrace that urged him forward.

Without wasting another moment, Adam turned on his heel and broke into a swift stride, his bare feet carrying him swiftly through the labyrinthine streets. The allure of the temple beckoned stronger than ever, its mysterious call weaving through the night and drawing him inexorably toward whatever destiny awaited.

It took what felt like an eternity for Adam to reach the outskirts of the city, every step a new form of agony as his feet throbbed with pain, likely bruised from the relentless journey. By the time he reached the first carved statue of their God, Quetzalcoatl, his heart was hammering in his chest, the thunderous pulse reverberating in his ears. His face flushed with heat, his body aflame, and his chest seared with the effort of breathing. He bent over, hands clutching his knees as he gasped desperately for air, each breath a struggle. His eyes screwed shut, and beads of sweat traced their way down his temples, dripping off his chin.

Damn it. He had never run like that before. Adam wasn’t one for running these days—or ever, really. Since he had failed to undergo the transformation that all Phoenixes underwent, he had let his once-fit body go, seeing no reason to maintain it. He wasn’t overweight, not by ordinary standards, but in a Phoenix clan, where physical perfection was expected, he was considered almost obese. His frame was softer now—plump around the stomach and chest, his thighs thick, though his arms and legs remained thin. He was still smaller than Lilith, barely reaching her shoulders, but the comparison stung.

As he inhaled sharply, the frigid night air filling his lungs, Adam froze. A sudden, icy terror gripped him, chilling him to the bone. His entire body stiffened, and he felt as though frost was about to etch itself across his ashen skin. The distant sound of the warrior Jorōgumo on patrol echoed through the night, a reminder of the ever-present danger. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to straighten up, and shuffled into the shadowed recess of the statue of Quetzalcoatl, his breath shallow as he watched the darkness for any sign of movement.

Then, he saw it. A monstrous silhouette with eight spindly legs skittered into view, its form a twisted shadow against the inky blackness of the night. The creature’s attention seemed elsewhere, and it veered off to the left, where Adam heard the unmistakable, blood-curdling screams of rule breakers caught in its path. The air was suddenly filled with the harsh, shrill cries of more Jorōgumos, followed by the desperate footsteps of two fleeing figures.

But they didn’t get far.

With a terrifying swiftness, something white shot out from the darkness, ensnaring them by the ankles. In an instant, they were yanked to the ground and dragged away, their screams abruptly cut off as they were pulled back toward the sacrificial grounds from which they had foolishly tried to escape.

Adam slapped both hands over his mouth, stifling his own cry of horror. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and they burned with the strain of holding back tears. The muffled voices of the Jorōgumos grew louder, closer, before mercifully fading away, taking their prey with them. Adam trembled violently, his body refusing to obey his mind’s commands to stay calm. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying he wouldn’t witness anything more horrific, though the darkness had already hidden much of the grisly scene from view.

He knew the Jorōgumos were deadly, sadistic creatures, but they operated within the rules of the city, giving generous warnings to those who strayed too close to their domain. They wouldn’t devour you unless you crossed the line of Quetzalcoatl, or unless they found you… appealing. Yet, knowing their cruelty in theory was one thing—hearing it play out in the darkness around him was another.

"Dear Quetzalcoatl," Adam whispered, his voice trembling as he tilted his head toward the statue, "please watch over me and keep the Jorōgumos away."

He realized with a jolt that this was the closest he had ever been to the statue, a sacred relic he had never dared to touch. The proximity made his hair stand on end, an almost electric sensation coursing through him. He could reach out and feel the stone if he wanted to, the carved feathers of the Serpent God’s wing shimmering faintly in the dim light, almost as if they were beckoning him.

But he didn’t dare move, not yet. The night was still thick with danger, and Adam knew that every second counted as he clung to the shadows, praying to remain unseen.

Adam rubbed his hands down the oversized sweater that seemed to swallow him whole, his gaze fixed on the ancient statue of Quetzalcoatl. His eyes, wide with a mix of awe and trepidation, wandered over the countless other statues lining the walls, separating the sacrificial grounds from the rest of the world.

These statues were relics of a forgotten era, their origins shrouded in the mists of time. To touch them was forbidden, a transgression that could cost someone their hand—or their life. Beyond the city walls, replicas stood in their place, mere shadows of the originals, and while the public could freely touch those, the true creations were strictly off-limits. Adam had always been captivated by the originals, drawn to their eerie beauty, yet each time he visited, he was never alone. Lilith was always there, her presence like a shadow, her watchful eyes warning him whenever he ventured too close.

Adam's first encounter with the city at eighteen had been like a dream—or perhaps a curse. The moment he crossed the threshold, he had been irresistibly drawn to one of the replica statues in the town centre. His hands, as if possessed, traced the carved feathers, feeling every groove and ridge of the stone. Quetzalcoatl was not just a god; he was the very essence of their existence, his legend woven into the fabric of their lives—paintings, stories, plays, movies, and even children's toys all bore his image.

Yet, as Adam stood before the original statue now, something dark and powerful stirred within him, a force that both thrilled and terrified him. He was so close, yet paralyzed, his knees buckling beneath him, his hands trembling as they clutched at his chest. The dry grass beneath his feet felt cold, lifeless, as a shiver crept down his spine. The half-dragon, half-bird face of Quetzalcoatl loomed just beyond the wing, its stone eyes boring into his soul.

"Ah..." The sound escaped Adam's lips, barely a whisper, as he found himself bowing low before the serpent god. It was as if the true God’s gaze had fallen upon him, weighing down on his very being. "N-No disrespect, your highness, I..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes locked onto the stone face of Quetzalcoatl once more. A slow blink, a nervous bite of his lower lip, and his thoughts turned to the ancient deals and contracts forged in blood. The contracts were dark, their terms etched in sacrificial blood, yet they had borne fruit. Quetzalcoatl had provided—food, water, shelter, everything his people needed to survive and live in peace. But the price was always the same: blood.

Adam blinked again, the world around him narrowing to the palm of his grey-ash hand. He stretched out his fingers, tracing the lines of his flesh, and let out a soft, wordless hum. His eyes darted around until they found a sharp rock on the ground. With deliberate slowness, he picked it up, pressing its jagged edge into his palm. The pain was brief, a sting that brought forth tiny pearls of blood.

He winced, watching the blood pool in his hand before he extended it, pressing the crimson-stained palm into the earth before Quetzalcoatl's face. For a few agonizing minutes, he held it there, the ground seeming to drink in his offering.

Then, with a deep breath, Adam crawled forward, slipping beneath the statue’s head, crossing into the forbidden grounds where no one else dared to tread. The air there was different, thicker, as if the weight of centuries pressed down upon him. But for Adam, it was as if he had finally crossed the threshold into a world where his darkest desires could no longer be denied.

The moment Adam crossed into the ancient, forbidden sacrificial grounds of Quetzalcoatl, a feverish heat washed over him, prickling his skin like a thousand tiny needles. No one had ever dared to breach this sacred space and lived to tell the tale. What fate awaited him if he were caught? He didn’t know, but retreat was no longer an option. He had already transgressed the unyielding laws of the city. With his knees pressed into the parched grass, his fingers twitched with a mixture of fear and excitement as he took in the sight that few had ever seen and lived to describe.

The reality of the grounds far exceeded the sterile depictions in textbooks and museums. The towering pillars were colossal, dwarfing the illustrations he had studied. The stone slabs were thicker, etched with intricate details that the public had never been privy to. The ground beneath him was polished to a sheen, a black stone pathway winding like a serpent up to the temple. Golden and grey steps, made of perfectly polished stone, climbed toward the heavens, leading to a pinnacle too high for Adam to discern its carvings.

Glancing down at the cut on his hand, Adam was startled to see that the wound had already begun to heal. The main gash had sealed shut, leaving no trace of blood, as though the very air within these grounds possessed some ancient magic. Swallowing hard, he brushed his thumb over the now-healing cut, marvelling at the rapid recovery. It would be fully healed in a week, perhaps even sooner.

"Whoa..." he breathed, the word slipping from his lips in awe.

Carefully, Adam rose to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him, and he twisted his hands into the fabric of his blue sweater, fingers toying with the frayed edges of his sleeves. His heart pounded so violently in his chest that it seemed it might burst, but he forced himself to take a tentative step forward, lifting his bare foot from the dry grass to the waxy, polished floor. The warmth beneath his foot surprised him—not uncomfortably hot, but a soothing, inviting warmth that made him long to curl up and bask in it.

The pillars loomed above him, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings that seemed to tell forgotten stories. Some connected overhead, forming a latticework ceiling, while others stood solitary, reaching skyward. As Adam continued along the waxen ground, his steps brought him to the edge of the black stone pathway.

He paused there, staring down at the midnight-hued stone, so polished that his reflection stared back at him. Tiny white crystals were embedded within the stone, twinkling like stars in the night sky. They were too beautiful to tread upon, so Adam chose to walk alongside the path instead, his hands clasped tightly together as his fingers fidgeted nervously. Occasionally, his gaze drifted to the almost-healed cut on his palm.

As he ventured deeper into the grounds, Adam discovered thousands of golden and red archways standing sentinel along the sides of the star-studded pathway. Each archway framed a platform with an altar at its centre, a gaping hole in the ground beneath it. When he reached the first altar, Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

The altar bore a stone headrest at its top—unmistakably a sacrificial platform. Anxiety gnawed at him, urging him to hurry past. His feet carried him swiftly toward the temple, almost of their own accord, driven by a mixture of dread and compulsion. The ominous allure of the temple beckoned him closer, pulling him into its ancient embrace, where the line between fear and fascination blurred into something dangerously intoxicating.

Adam had barely lifted his foot an inch when something silver snaked around his ankle. His breath hitched, confusion flickering in his eyes, but before he could react, he was yanked violently upside down, dangling from the stone archway he had been about to pass beneath. A surge of anger ignited within him, frustration bubbling up like a storm as he twisted, kicking at the sticky webbing that held him fast.

"Adam, what the fuck are you doing?" Lilith’s voice hissed from below, her tone sharp and laced with urgency.

She skidded to a halt beneath him, her back arched and her chest heaving as though she had sprinted to catch him. Her form was unsettling, her body twisted in an unnatural way. Beyond the human legs that supported her, two long, gold and black-striped spider legs jutted out from her torso, a stark reminder of her true nature. Her long, golden hair, usually flowing like a waterfall, now appeared cropped and uneven, and a dark, ominous mark marred her cheek.

"Put me down," Adam growled, his voice low and simmering with defiance, even as he struggled futilely against the webbing that suspended him. He knew that if he managed to break free, he would fall and likely snap his neck, but desperation fuelled his anger.

"Now, Lilith."

The Jorōgumo sneered, her long, sharp fangs snapping menacingly in the air beneath him. "You’ve gone too far this time, Adam. Way too fucking far. Do you have any idea what you've done? What I just had to do? To my own sister, no less?"

"Oh, shut up," Adam shot back, his voice a snarling growl as he wriggled more violently. "You don’t know anything! I need to go. It’s calling me, and I can’t ignore it. I need to go."

Lilith’s eyebrow arched sceptically, her expression darkening. But before she could respond, the ominous sound of approaching Jorōgumo warriors filled the air, a chorus of clicks and hisses that made Lilith stiffen. Her icy-blue eyes widened in alarm, and without a word, she darted up the stone archway, her long, hairy spider legs carrying her effortlessly upward. She quickly used two of her legs to secure Adam to the underside of the archway, cocooning herself over him like a protective, yet terrifying, shield.

"Lilith—"

"Shut up," she hissed, her hand clamping over his mouth, silencing him instantly.

The sound of the Jorōgumo warriors grew closer, a deadly symphony of predator and prey. Lilith remained tense, her body rigid with fear and anxiety, listening intently as her sisters and cousins passed by, their presence a looming threat. Only when they had moved on did she exhale a deep, shaky breath of relief.

"Thank Quetzalcoatl," she muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Even the Jorōgumo aren’t allowed to venture into the sacrificial grounds."

Adam tried to speak, but his words were muffled beneath her hand. Lilith’s glare intensified as she pressed down harder, her fangs bared in a silent warning.

"Hold still," she whispered harshly.

She began untangling the web from around Adam’s body, carefully lowering them both to the ground by a single, slicken thread. But the moment their feet touched the earth, Adam made a break for it. Lilith, however, was quicker, swinging one of her spider legs in a swift arc that knocked him off his feet.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" she spat, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "Do you want me to eat you that badly?"

With a fierce shove, she pinned him to the ground, her spider leg pressing into his back with unsettling force. "How fucking stupid can you be? Did you really think no one would smell you passing the wall? Ridiculous! We’re trained hunters, Adam—it’s our responsibility to find and destroy traitors of Pentagram City."

Lilith pressed down harder, her eight spider eyes snapping open, their gaze cold and unforgiving. "Even my sisters aren’t allowed to pass the statues into these grounds. Do you have any idea what kind of shit I just had to pull to keep you alive? My sister saw you, Adam—she was going to fucking behead you. I had to rip her abdomen out to stop her from grabbing you back at the statue, and now, I’ve betrayed my own clan."

Adam thrashed beneath Lilith’s crushing weight. "I never asked you to save me," he spat back.

"But I did it anyway," she hissed, flipping him over with ease. As Adam tried to rise, Lilith was faster, slamming her human foot down on his chest, pinning him once more. "I’ve crossed into the sacrificial grounds, and if I’m caught, I’ll be killed too."

"I never asked you—"

"But I did it anyway," Lilith cut him off, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Again and again, I’ve let you get away with shit. I’ve let you get closer to the statues of Quetzalcoatl than anyone else would dare. My siblings say I’m too soft because I keep letting you do things that should’ve cost you your hands."

Adam glared up at her, his cheeks flushed with frustration. His defiance burned bright in his eyes, especially as Lilith bent down, her face mere inches from his.

"So, I’m only asking you once," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "What the fuck are you doing?"

The two childhood friends stared at one another, the tension between them palpable. The aggression that had gripped Adam moments before ebbed away, replaced by a strange emptiness. Once, the thought of Lilith showing interest in him would have ignited a thrill, but now, he felt nothing. Instead, a calmness settled over him, and his dry lips pressed together as his gaze drifted toward the temple, lost in thought.

What was he doing? Why had he come all this way, breaking the law of Pentagram City? He could lose his life for this reckless act—he might have already, if not for Lilith’s intervention.

“Well?” Lilith spat; her voice sharp as a blade.

Adam blinked, his thoughts snapping back to the present. He frowned. “I saw him.”

“Saw who?” Lilith’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion darkening her gaze.

“Quetzalcoatl,” Adam replied, his voice firm and resolute.

Lilith snorted, rolling her eyes in disbelief. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did too,” Adam insisted, stubbornness edging his words. “I saw him above his temple, silhouetted in the misty clouds. There were these... these colorful lightning bolts striking the top of the temple.”

“There was no such thing, Adam,” Lilith retorted, her voice stern. “I’ve been here all night. There was no lightning, and certainly no appearance of our god. You did not see him.”

Adam’s frown deepened, his face contorting in a way that seemed almost unnatural. “I did. He’s calling me. He’s pulling me to the temple.”

“Were you sleeping?” Lilith asked, her head tilting to the side, her voice softening with concern. “You must have been dreaming.”

“No.” Adam shook his head furiously, then thrust his cut hand up toward the Jorōgumo. “I offered him my blood for entry, and he accepted. Look, see? I literally cut my hand barely an hour ago, and it shouldn’t be healed like this already!”

Lilith squinted, scrutinizing the nearly healed wound stretched across Adam’s palm. She sighed deeply, her sharp-nailed fingers curling roughly around his wrist as she yanked it closer to her face. The cut looked old, as if it had been there for weeks or even months. But then she caught the scent—fresh blood, potent and undeniable, seeping from the seemingly healed skin. It was a scent that could only come from a fresh, still-bleeding wound.

Lilith recoiled in bewilderment; her eyes wide with shock as she blinked down at him. Adam sat up, rubbing his chest with a pout, seemingly oblivious to the strangeness of what she had just experienced. Her senses screamed that his hand was still bleeding, yet her eyes insisted otherwise.

Had Adam really seen Quetzalcoatl? The thought gnawed at her. She had always noticed the peculiar glint in Adam’s grey eyes whenever he looked at a statue or painting of their god, but she had dismissed it as a childish fascination, the kind all younglings shared.

“And what do you intend to do?” she asked, suspicion lacing her tone.

Adam glanced up at her wearily, his lips curling into a crooked smile. “…Climb the temple.”

“What? Are you insane?” Lilith hissed, planting her hands on the round, protruding spider-like abdomen she bore. “Nobody, absolutely nobody, is allowed to touch the temple. Not even the elders are permitted to climb those stairs. You’ve lost your mind.”

Adam pouted deeply as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his legs. “I know the risk, and I’m not asking for permission. I’ve already asked Quetzalcoatl himself, and he’s granted it.”

“You don’t know that,” Lilith snapped coldly. “Even if your wound was accepted as an offering, that could mean anything. You could step on the first stair and be struck by lightning.”

Undeterred, Adam turned toward the large golden steps, humming thoughtfully. “They don’t look that hard.”

“Adam, are you even listening to yourself?” Lilith groaned, rubbing her temples in exasperation. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Just go home, now, while you still can. We’ll both pretend this never happened and pray for Quetzalcoatl’s mercy.”

“No.” Adam’s voice was firm, his gaze unwavering as he met hers with a dry look. “I’m not going back. I came here for a reason, and I need to go up there, to the crown of the temple.”

Lilith threw her hands up in frustration. “But why?”

“I don’t know why,” Adam replied without hesitation, “but it is Quetzalcoatl’s will. And I’m more afraid of what will happen if I ignore him.”

Lilith groaned again, shaking her head in disbelief. Her nose crinkled, and her brow twitched as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Her spider legs twitched anxiously, tapping the waxy ground as if searching for stability.

“You know, I don’t need you to come with me,” Adam said carefully, his tone softer. “I’m not your responsibility. You made that perfectly clear last week.”

Lilith blinked at him, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “Adam—”

But Adam ignored her, turning to make his way toward the temple once more. Just as he began to walk, Lilith grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him back with surprising force.

“Are you sure about this?” she hissed; her voice dangerously low. “If you’re caught, you’ll be killed. Not even I can save you.”

Adam glanced at her hand, then carefully removed it. “With my whole heart.”

After a long, tense silence, Lilith finally gave a sharp nod, her eyes hard as stone. She began to back away, her voice cold and cutting as she addressed Adam.

“Typically, I don’t wish luck to fools on reckless quests, but... best of luck.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by her icy demeanour. “…Thanks… I think?” he replied, his tone unsure, caught between confusion and gratitude.

Lilith's expression remained unchanged, her face an unreadable mask, devoid of even a flicker of warmth. Without another word, she turned from him and shot off, her spider legs striking the waxy ground with an awkward, almost clumsy rhythm as she vanished into the shadows.

Adam stood there, awkwardly watching her retreat, the air around him heavy with the lingering tension.

#fanfic #hazbin hotel #lucifer x adam #adamsapple #au #guitarduck #fanficiton #mythology #aztec mythology #promised souls #japanese folklore #lilith

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threepoint14art · 3 months ago

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I'm gonna word vomit about the nightmares because GOD I'm listening to great escape on loop and i feel like I'm going insane so yeah if you wanna read that im gonna put it under the cut because its probably gonna be LONG TLDR: I love them and they make my head hurt

We know the nightmares are not good people, like at all. The very first instance we see them is in the episode literally titled "BONNIES NIGHTMARE" and yeah, they sure are his nightmare.

They harass him for money as a "tradition", Bonnie doesn't have any, they try and take his guitar, until there they’re pretty standard random assholes, then meg says "they know where you live" when Bon tries to intervene and refers to them as a complete group, "the *nightmares* know where you live" and then the stakes become weirder. Because aside from just very visibly being horrible people, they already have a reputation of being actually dangerous besides just mugging, they know where people live. You can argue they know where Meg, Fox and Spring live based on past history with all of them, and they could know where Bonnie lives based on how they harass him and all of that; but for them to know where Bon lives? someone who they appear to have literally no biases against and who is, up to that point, just completely unrelated to any of what's happening? It’s weird

You could say it's because he's friends with Meg, but I sort of doubt Bon would bring anyone over with how his dad is, so we are back at "why the actual hell would they know that" If they are mindless thugs it’s a bit weird that they would keep track of specifics like that. And I like to think that that’s the point. They make it a point to know sensitive information about people so that they are less inclined to go against them, just like Meg was.

Then Fox appears and they seem really put off by it. The series tries really hard to sell that Fox is angry, violent and just a hot head. Which I don't really agree with? as in rewatches I've found myself going "yeah that's a valid reason to be angry" but whatever, going off the series alone and what they intend with each character, Fox is someone who is sort of dangerous, guy who gets into fights and all of that, they seem sort of familiar with each other too. "this is low even for you guys" and then Deuz calling Fox by his name.

So they are 1) known 2)violent 3) actively make a show out of it. They scare people by knowing their private information yet they don’t seem to do anything with it at all, they could harass Bonnie closer to his house and not at the literal school entrance full of people but they don’t. They could drag him out to somewhere more hidden to not get bothered, but they don't, it's almost as if they want people to see. It's performative, speaking loud and laughing louder, in direct contrast to Bonnie's quiet voice who tries to leave in the least showy way possible.

We don't see them go to school, hell we don't even see them in uniform until after camp, so I used to think they were older and that the entire thing with the nightmares vs spring was sort of "the adult drama" outside of school and its teenagers. Their entire group just felt heavier than the rest of the kids, probably fueled by being antagonists.

The next time we see them it's with the aforementioned Spring, they are graffiting a wall and Spring tells them to not do it and to go do it in the "legal area" the artistic zone made for that.

This is really interesting to me, mostly because even though spring grew up in a similar situation to them, he carries completely different moral values. It even seems as if he's overcompensating. Spring is a hard worker, he has jobs upon jobs and tries to live honestly, and to see other people get by in the direct opposite way he does, he wants to be as separated as possible, have nothing in common because he is a “good” person and they are “bad” people.

There is no way that his entire area isn't drowning in graffiti already, because even sub-urban areas have graffiti, both actual art and the standard weird drawings of dicks or random curse words. And while the latter are not exactly great to see, they are also inherently thoughtless. People walk around and go "yeah this would be funny" and do it without thinking twice.

With the way that Onnie and Onyx (I call oxy that) talk about it, what they were about to do wasn't thoughtless, they were literally looking for a nice wall. it seemed like they just wanted to do actual artistic graffiti which is a pastime that seems inherently way less morally evil than just harassing random kids at school. They aren't actively looking for Spring either, they are just there. Spring picks the fight, the police come

They run away from the police, there's a ruckus with the police after (as said by Fox). They didn't actually vandalize anything, hell they didn't even have any paint on them throughout that entire exchange. But they still run? They could have done something before going over there, but in that case it'd be strange that they would be so calm and giddy about it knowing full well someone could come, they don't seem to be carrying anything at all either, robbing school kids may be possible with only your fists but they were just around streets without any knife or anything at night, so i doubt they could mug someone if they tried.

So why would they run? I think it’s because they are all mostly just show, and that their lives shaped them to be that way. The police are scary not on the basis of "they can imprison me for this wrong thing I did" but on the basis of "the police hates people like us." The police hates the poor, the police hates queer people, it hates anyone who fails to fit in the box of what"an upstanding citizen" should look like. Of course they leave with their theatrics still there, telling Spring to "be grateful they saved you!!!" trying to save face. But it's clear they didn't actually do something to warrant fleeing, and this is supported by Spring also hiding.

The next episode, "the birth of evil" is where everything crumbles and by crumbles i mean comes together. Spring, Fox and Bonnie go to a talent show and they meet the nightmares there, once again the whole act starts again. An obnoxious laugh, a confident pose, an ensemble of people behind you to be able to have your back. Deuz calls them dogs and the other 2 bark, its a performance. Deuz adresses the group, Onyx talks to Spring, Onnie talks to Bonnie.

They don’t seem to acknowledge Bonnie in specific as anything important, they don’t blink and demand he gives them the money he still “owes”, they don’t tell him he’s lucky that he’s not alone. They pick a fight with the conglomerate and that's it.

The way Spring and Fox carry themselves in the exact same situation seems just fundamentally different. They insult back of course, but they are way less vitriolic with it, and they don't accompany it with an air of grandiose superiority or an encore of background laughs or barks to drive their point home. They seem honest with their comeback, they have fun with it. Onyx and Onnie GROWL.

Deux stands in front of them, he has been doing that this entire time, and the other two behind him growl, genuinely upset or threatened by a comeback that let's be honest. Was not even that good. "You smell that? envy?" and "the rats came out to eat, shame we didn't bring cheese"

But it not being good is sort of the point, it feels less practiced, less rehearsed and less of an act, a stupid comeback that reads more like a 3rd grader fight than anything, compared to the more antagonistic "look at the stray dogs. though this was a talent show not a barking one." "give me paw, have you learned to play dead yet?" Those are way stronger, and yet it seems like they just lose the exchange, immediately get defensive and growl, and look genuinely upset.

Funny thing is that their insults apply to them more than they apply to those three. Both Onnie and Onyx have been shown constantly barking and growling, to call someone a stray dog implies some level of poorness or a lack of belonging. They put down what may seem wrong with them, and apply it to other people to get a leg up.

Maggie tells them to drop it, they go and perform what they came here to perform. Deuz says "dont waste your energy, let's prove what real talent is" which can certainly just be read as another insult, as a way to call them talentless, but i chose to interpret it as masking a sore spot. We HAVE talent, even if people say we don't.

And this is the main attraction. Great escape. My love.

With all we know about them, you would imagine their music would follow through with the image they've been constantly pushing. Rough around the edges, loud, obnoxious, full of self adulation. But it's just... Not that.

Song starts, and it seems like they will follow through. It's strong, it's loud, it's overwhelming and yet awestrucking, the guitar is at the forefront and is going crazy. And then it suddenly becomes soft, not weak or pacifying by any means, but soft nonetheless.

Deuz’s voice is calm, he’s not screaming and he’s not making himself louder than necessary, the mic is there and it WILL pick what he says up. So he’s just singing, he’s not struggling to be heard. The very first line is “if i wasn’t the one who i thought I was, could you show with conviction who you really are?” It’s weirdly wordy and self introspective for someone who is supposedly just evil, who has presented himself as an unmovable wall, as someone strong, foul mouthed and completely used and comfortable with his way of life. As someone who poses a real danger.

If I wasn't who I thought I was, if I wasn't strong and if I wasn't at the forefront, could you really show who you are? If he wasn’t like this, if he seemed soft or weak, could his group live in peace? Could they be who they want to be? It’s not like they are 100% free to be who they are right now. They too, keep an appearance of being unbothered, strong, but at least they get to live, they get to present themselves how they want and not be scared of someone hurting them because of it, because they ARE the harm, and they have a leader. He’s the pillar, and he has to be who he THINKS he is. He has to be there.

“Will you be able to not fall today without your costume? your heart breaks just like a fragile glass” The idea of costumes, of keeping an appearance, making “the nightmares” a single intimidating entity that no one can mess with, could they live without it? Chances are not, life is cruel and they seem to know that. It’s a dog eat dog world, and they act as if they are on the top of that food chain.

The song is for all of them, it’s ADDRESSED to them, Deuz uses first person and second person, me and you against whatever is put in our way. And that is what makes the song so special to me, in a show were we see the protagonists in the process of becoming friends the nightmares have been together since forever. And this song is for them, to find hope in hopelessness and to simply state how important all of them are to each other. “and in the distance I can hear that your voice started to call me”.

And we see what has led them down this way of thinking. Not a justification, but an explanation.

We start with Deuz, whose first memory appears to be literally working. Working to sustain himself, working to be able to live better, “I know that I will wake up.” I know that I can get out of here somehow, people are horrible to a literal child trying to live, we see how it lasted a long while too. From the candy selling to when his hands are curled into a fist we can see that he visibly grew up, he kept living in those conditions and he never actually experienced sympathy for it, people laughed, people insulted him, people seemed to be grossed out by the mere idea of a kid who was BORN into poverty, because how dare he try and survive? “I fell into an dark abysm without an end”

With this it would make sense for him to become cynical, to assume it’s him against the world forever, and that people are inherently evil. But the lyrics are hopeful. “I escaped swiftly and I saved my life, I felt as if i were finally breathing again. Today let’s break the walls at once” Life is cruel, people are cruel, but it gives him a frame of reference of what type of people stay at the top of the chain, to be mean, to be violent, not out of enjoyment but necessity, camouflage to survive and breathe again, make sure people don’t mess with him again. The image of a little kid with scratches throughout all his body looking angrily at the camera

“In a place of the world where light goes away and doesn’t want to come back. Could you be sure that you’ll find it?” He could stay alone, he could dish out the same disdain and disgust that people showed him when he was at his lowest, but despite it all he still has empathy, and despite everything he wants to help, “evil” was born through how he lived, but his true nature is still there. And when he sees someone his age at his lowest, he doesn’t hesitate to help. He doesn’t fall in the idea of “everyone should have it as bad as me, i had it worse, it’s not my problem.” He extends the kindness that he never had, and he helps. Could you really find light when everything seems dark? find hope in what seems hopeless?see a A scared little kid being beat in a closed alleyway, amongst all the trash. Could you be fine with it? Have any hope in such a situation?

“if everything breaks slowly and with pain. Could you pick up the pieces that fall?” He stops it, he becomes the light that went away, a sense of hope and belonging, he offers a hand that was never offered to him. Onnies expression in this always gets me, he looked scared when he was alone, but once someone stands up for him he doesn’t look glad or happy. He seems shocked, in complete disbelief. Both Onyx and Maggie seem to be relieved when they are saved, but Onnie is just shocked. Why would someone just intervene or care? this was not a one time thing, he already had the bruises before any hit ever connected, he fled into a dead end and expected it to end like that. And it didn’t. Everything was already broken, why would someone pick up the pieces?

“In the distance I can hear the quake of the world and its end. Today you’ll start from zero. I have to say see you later” I’ve seen some people be confused by this part or even laugh at it. Deuz just appears, punches onyx, and they become friends. But the very first shot is Onyx sitting slumped on the ground as if he had been beat up and was barely conscious. But he wasn’t, he had no injuries at all, the lyric talks about the end of the world, he had given up. We don’t know the circumstances of this, but given how clean his clothes are and how he lacks any injuries, it’s my personal headcanon that he got kicked out. A kid alone in the streets kicked out, he should give up, because what else could he do? how else could he live? A wake up call in the form of a fist, this place is dangerous and not what you are used to. But today you’ll start from zero, you just have to say goodbye to what you had.

The chorus changes, it’s no longer a dark abyss, but a dark path. In the name of not being at the very bottom he has become something he isn’t, all of them have, their lives shaped them to be rougher, they are like the people who hurt them in the past. This is especially true to Onnie becoming a bully. And the path seems endless, because dropping the fake bravado doesn’t seem like a possibility. The world is cruel to those it perceives as weak, so they can’t show themselves to be. That's why we are shown the three of them looking angry, unbothered, the strength their life demanded but at the very least as a group; making themselves bigger, with Deuz at the forefront.

And we cut to Maggie (who I use he/him for), screaming and trying to get away from someone who is clearly bigger, an adult. From the song “closer” at the camp arc, we can see how that person was enjoying causing distress, a crooked and mocking smile on their face “there will be people who think this is pure hypocrisy” To go from being the kid suffering at the hands of someone stronger, to the one causing said pain onto another kid, all to not be weak and not be a target again.

The group doesn’t only defend Maggie, fight back against someone bigger than all of them. But Deuz goes out of his way to try and cheer him up, and gives him a sweet to calm down. “incapable of forgetting the beast that’s hungry yet again” this world, it’s difficulties that feel like sharp teeth mauling at people who have not done any sin but to exist yet, people feed on others being miserable, on feeding on those who seem weaker and their suffering, like beasts. You can’t ignore it, you have to fight back, bare your own teeth.

“Beyond the storm my hand is waiting for you. That sword pierced depression with all it’s strength” After the suffering, after the hardships and the pain, my hand will be there waiting for yours. Together we are stronger, and together we can be happy despite what everyone else can say. “Before just falling like that…” before giving up, before falling, we have each other.

And it’s the chorus again, I fell in a dark abyss, but now what saved his life is not making himself scarier, it’s not the realization of what act he should put on, it’s not his anger freeing him. It’s having his group. And once they break the walls, once they break through their self imposed image, through “the wall” , they can live without fear or grudges.

Next we see them is at camp, and it seems as if Deuz already started to try to break through said wall, they are actually going to school now, they are at a camp. And when Onyx and Onnie start with the theatrics, when they try to immediately establish themselves as stronger and crueler. He reminds them that they are not on the streets. They aren’t in that horrible environment they’ve always lived in, not everyone is bound to be outright hostile, and they try.

Later on Deuz says “If being at this camp and learning to work in a team makes my boys finally get accepted by society. Then I’ll do it.” and after that “I’ll show them that we can all change for the better.” They all became hostile because of where they grew up, but if there’s a chance to not be like that, to live in peace, then he’ll take it. He wants the best for them.

And that’s not to say Deuz has always been the pillar of morality. He participated in Bonnies harassment as much as all of them, but their thing is to change, to let go of that gut reaction of cruelty to avoid being hurt. And Deuz also changes with time. At the start, anyone who participated in the event, who went to the docks which is their territory, he would have been annoyed, he would have called them talentless, insult them and their craft and claim he and his crew were better before completely disregarding them as a whole. He would have been defensive about the only place where he can actually showcase his thoughts and feelings. But no! Later on he has respect for Fred, calls him “the king of the docks” and tries to be friendly. Of course after that Freddy is completely confused and he gets pissed, but I think it’s because he tried, he attempted to be friendly and swallow his pride and his defensiveness about the one thing they all have, and he got (in his head) made fun of. It made his instinct of “be the one on the top of the interaction always” kick in, because they WERE on the streets at that time and it’s suddenly the same it always has been.

Right after that pup kills him on a single punch and that didn’t happen ^^. no waaaay he would go down so easy to a person like pup whose most athletic skill is gymnastics. Deuz has shown he's had to fight and fight dirty/lawlessly to survive since he was little. it just doesn't make sense and it’s not real TOT Pup is built like a twig

“pia what about onnies song” also didn't happen ^^. After this point the series tries to soften Onnie to be less of a willing participant of the group’s actions, and I just really do not like it. Let him have blue hair and pronouns AND evil in his heart.

I think that’s all for all, i need to be tazed. I know i kept it very neutral till now but guys please tell me you see why i ship them all so hard. God. I need to kill them all

i hate them you need to be put down <3 like the dogs u like (the nightmares) - Loops

#πa art #fhs fanart #fnafhs fanart #fnafhs #fnafhs nightmares #Deuz fnafhs #Maggie fnafhs #fhs #fnafhs au #our au #Onnie fnafhs #Oxy fnafhs #they have matching nails and are cute and i want to kill them all ^^#paw pads prints on the hands tehee my weird dogs #onnie doesnt have that cause rabbits dont get to have any fun (they dont have paw pads)#extra thoughts for the word vomit:#why do onnie and onyx growl so much it drives me crazy. Something something stray dogs. ughgghghhg #why was maggies song sung by felix??? who invited him this isnt ABOUT YOUUUUUU YOUVE KNOWN HIM FOR 2 SECONDS WHY ARE YOU SINGING THIS #Onnies guitar has devil horns. And his name is really close to being oni. Japanese folklore creature similar to demons #“porque todo en ingles q te crees gringo” ESCRIBIR EN INGLES SE SIENTE COOL. TENGO DERECHOS #Thats all good night tri-state area

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nathantheauthor · 6 months ago

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I'm excited to get into the post I'm going to drop as I finish it, take a while, but the next major information post isn't a character exploration... But, design concepts! The four main designs for the characters throughout the Revver era of the Ripper Inc story. But as I put that on the back burner, this post is about mythology and the international branches. It's not going to be that detailed. Just kind of a teaser for some of the stuff going on with them and some of the conceptual ideas, and some of the crossover elements of the universe.

For those who are just seeing this, the main concept of Ripper Inc in this giant crossover fanfic sandbox is a company that reforms monsters and serial killers, or even just gives people a job. Austin time they hunt down other serial killers and monsters, but sometimes they're hired security, birthday party attractions, etc. They're technically morally good, they'll do anything they're paid to do, but a lot of them do have very questionable backgrounds and needed the mental help program offers. Of course, most of the following examples don't fit that criteria, as they were approached due to already being morally all right, most of them at least. The main idea of the organization is to rehabilitate killers and monsters by turning their violent tendencies on to other killers and monsters all while giving them psychological help they need.

But, before we get into the lot of their members, I think we should introduce....

BRANCH DIRECTORS (PART 1)!

Because this whole postal focus on just the briefest summary of the directors.

Mary-San!

Starting with Japan's very Phone Call From Mary. This is one that's very much done for both the colony of it and because of the terrifying practicality. For those unfamiliar with the urban legend, Mary-San, or Phone Call From Mary is a Japanese ghost story about a haunted doll and phone challenge rolled into one. As per the legend, if you call her first you will get a series of phone calls from Mary-San, each one her announcing herself in a location you had recently been to until finally It All leads up to "Hi, this is Mary-San, I'm calling from behind you." Her height may make her a comedic choice for a largely yokai branch, but she is the perfect tracker, equipped with only a phone call she is a master strategist and can locate anyone.

I am also very much playing with the backstory of her mythology, with the very reason she originally joined Ripper Inc being the promise of finding her original owner, who by the point she enters the story is already a very old woman. By the time the promise is fulfilled, it's a visit to the grave of the woman, with the rest of her branch and her own boss there to comfort and support her.

Sun Wukong!

Also hailing from Asia comes the Chinese branch director, The Monkey King himself. I'm not going to get into how I'm handling gods and all that in this post, but I will say that I'm leaving him very much the trickster gremlin that he is. In fact, inspired by a friend's Fate portrayal, I've elected not to give him a set design outside his origins. Wukong instead will shift and use the designs of adaptations and depictions of him, or characters inspired from him. Meaning he could look anything like Lego Wukong to Son Goku.

The Victorious Fighting Buddha's reason for joining repairing is a mixture of responsibility calling to him and the simple fact that he finds the concept and idea to be absolutely fun, the idea of HIM being the leader of a company branch is hilarious. How could he say no? It is an evolution of some of his themes, he may still be a trickster, but knowing their ultimate mission he takes the job rather seriously, often he can't help but recall The Journey To The West when working with his crew.

Annora Petrova!

For the Russian Branch director, I know a lot of you old school Creepypasta fans might recognize this name, she is an underrated classic. I say Russian branch, however they do more cover the collection of countries around that area (minus China). I do have an explanation for why she's around, given I actually haven't rewritten anything about her story!

In this reinterpretation she has become the Slavic spirit of folklore... A Rusulka, this is due to a character I won't spoil editing her wiki and once more altering the course of her story. She's now come to be the director for this large branch of Ripper ink and works closely with / shares resources with Wukong. Everyday she has the temptation to check her wiki, to see what it has to say about her. To see what isn't about her newfound fame.

Brianna Grianne!

Hopping on over to Ireland, we meet the first OC director! Brianna is a fey, one that outright goes against the will of her people and instead uses her fae powers to aid and give people what they need. It's very notable in her wording, never does directly ask for something, avoiding fae deals.

She much rather live and be part of the human world than amongst her less benevolent kin, finding the world of mankind to be much more intriguing and hospitable.

Nero Claudius!

Who better to lead the Roma- Italian branch than this resurrected Roman Emperor? They were all seriousness, it is very much they're fully resurrected Nero's way of still serving and protecting her country, finding herself having to figure her life out after the events of Point Breaker's closing act.

She's very much the same Red Saber we all know and love, however, she is a composite variant, and very much a living Nero, so she's got quite the legs up on her Fate canon counterpart.

Cameron Bryce!

I haven't tagged this SCP for nothing! Turning our attention over to Scotland, I introduced the next OC director, Cameron Bryce, a former Global Occult Legion squad leader.

After a cold winter night in his youth his life was forever changed, finding himself scooped up by the GOC to hunt down anomalies with deadly precision... But ultimately he hated the job and jumped at the offer for the directoral position. Working with and meeting people who will actually see tomorrow, with more competency, and power, than his GOC squad. He's generally really chill, one of the most laid-back people you'll ever meet.

Camille Noemie!

The French director, and Dame Blanche (White Lady), she's very much a spectral figure trying to do her best for her community, alongside other legends from france, and their few serial killers capable of joining, they're one of the smaller branches, but they make do!

Camille is a very friendly woman, merely using her afterlife to help her community and work through her regrets from life. She's merely trying her best, and she'll do everything in her power to help.

Now, stay tuned for part two tomorrow, featuring the directors for the branches in Canada, Germany, Britain, Korea, Australia, and more!

#creepypasta #creepypasta rewrite #creepypasta au #my writing #slenderverse #mythology and folklore #chinese mythology #japanese mythology #fate series #irish mythology #french folklore #scp foundation #global occult coalition #slavic folklore #nero claudius #scp #goc #annora Petrova #sun wukong

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