#my og thought was 'wars vessel'

[mothorcus]

a singular Shamura doodle 4 u

[mymoonisgrey]

you, my love, are All I Need.

synopsis: After the tragedy of the Star Plasma Vessel incident, Satoru Gojo loses more than just his closest friend, Suguru Geto—he loses the one person who made the chaos of his world feel bearable. She was his light, his tether to something more human, and just when he dared to imagine a future with her, fate cruelly severed their bond. With her sudden disappearance in his third year at Jujutsu High, Satoru is left reeling, torn between his duties as the strongest sorcerer and the ache of searching for someone he may never find.

pairings: gojo sator x reader. (og jujutsu au.)

chapter warnings: 18+, blood, mentions of war atmospheres, profanities, sensitive content, masturbation.

wc : 8k+

all i need's playlist!

series masterlist.

a/n: coming in hot with chapter 2, reader, whats your sit rep?

previously.

The higher-ups never made anything easy. Especially not for you. The moment you stepped foot into Jujutsu High, it was as if they’d already decided what you were—not who. A tool. A pawn. A goddamn liability, no matter how brightly your cursed energy burned or how effortlessly you lit up a room. To them, you were a problem—dangerous, volatile, a storm they couldn’t control. And all because of him. 

Satoru Gojo. The Gojo clan’s untouchable prodigy. The strongest. The brightest. Theirs. You weren’t supposed to exist in his orbit, not with the way he looked at you like you were more than just someone—like you were everything. They hated that. Despised it. Because gods weren’t meant to kneel, not even to love. 

“You’re wasting his potential,” they’d said, their voices sharp and cold like a blade pressed to your throat. They made it sound clinical, like they weren’t tearing your life apart for their own convenience. They didn’t ask. They didn’t care. They handed you a choice that wasn’t a choice at all: submission or sacrifice. 

“Marry into a clan,” they offered with saccharine smiles, as if being sold off like livestock was a privilege you should thank them for. “Or,” they continued, their eyes glinting with something cruel, “serve the Jujutsu Society in a way that matters.” 

You’d stared at them, the words sinking in slowly, like venom spreading through your veins. “Serve,” you’d echoed, your voice flat. “You mean die.” 

“Die well,” one of them corrected, and the room erupted in polite laughter. 

It wasn’t funny. None of it was. But what could you do? They’d already made their decision. 

They sent you to the front lines, stripped of your name, your identity, your life. No more Jujutsu High. No more long afternoons spent laughing at Satoru’s bad jokes or stealing quiet moments in between missions. No more him. They took that from you. They took everything. 

You were no longer a sorcerer—not in their eyes. Just a weapon, something to point and shoot. They outfitted you like a soldier, stuffing your hands with guns and knives, with grenades and curses bottled into ammunition. “Barbaric,” you’d muttered the first time they handed you a Glock, but no one laughed. 

“You’ll fit right in,” they’d said, tossing you a uniform that smelled of sweat and iron. “Don’t fuck it up.” 

And then there was Naoya Zenin. Smug, slimy, a roach that somehow always skittered just out of reach. He’d smirked at you the first time he saw you in your combat gear, leaning close like he had the right to invade your space. “Not bad,” he’d said, his voice dripping with condescension. “For a woman.” 

But he wasn’t the worst. That honor belonged to Sato Fuhimito, the sergeant who made it his personal mission to remind you just how replaceable you were. He’d towered over you, all cold eyes and harsher words, laying out your options with the precision of a scalpel. 

“Marry,” he’d said, his tone devoid of emotion, “or fight.” 

You’d laughed in his face, sharp and bitter, a sound ripped straight from your breaking heart. “And here I thought I’d get a third option,” you’d said, dragging a hand down your face. “Like running. Or maybe murder.” 

He hadn’t laughed. He hadn’t needed to. They had already won. 

The missions came fast and brutal, one after another. They dropped you into cursed zones without warning, without backup. Your cursed energy tore through everything in its path, but it was never enough. There were always more enemies, always more blood. You stopped counting the bodies after the first week. Stopped feeling anything after the second. 

“You’re good at this,” Fuhimito had said once, watching you wipe blood off your face with trembling hands. “Almost makes me forget you’re expendable.” 

You’d smiled at him, your teeth bared like a wolf. “Don’t worry,” you’d said, your voice like steel. “I’ll remind you.” 

But the worst part wasn’t the missions. It wasn’t the danger or the exhaustion or the bone-deep ache that never quite left you. It was the silence. The way Satoru’s name felt foreign in your mouth after weeks of not saying it. The way his face blurred in your memory, the sharp edges of his smile softening until you couldn’t quite remember what he looked like when he laughed. 

You’d thought he would save you. He’d been so sure, so damn certain that no one could touch you. “They wouldn’t fucking dare,” he’d said, his voice ringing with unshakable confidence. And you’d believed him. You’d let yourself believe, just for a moment, that he was right. 

But they did dare. And when they came for you, you couldn’t even look at him. Couldn’t bear to see the way his face twisted, the way his hands clenched at his sides as if he could hold the world together through sheer will alone. You’d wanted to speak, to scream, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. But the words stuck in your throat, heavy and bitter and unspoken. 

You’d watched him fall apart in silence, his eyes blazing with a fury that could’ve leveled cities. And then they took you, and he couldn’t stop them. For all his strength, for all his power, he couldn’t stop them. 

And now? Now you’re just trying to survive. Day by day, curse by curse. The ache in your chest never fades, a constant reminder of what you’ve lost. Of what they’ve taken. And somewhere, in the quiet moments between battles, you wonder if he’s still out there, wondering the same about you. 

The ocean stretched out before you, an endless expanse of blue and gold as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. The soft glow of the setting sun painted the sky in hues of amber and rose, its light shimmering over the water like a thousand tiny stars. The sand beneath your bare feet was warm, gritty, grounding—a small comfort in the chaos of your life. 

The sundress you wore fluttered in the breeze, its hem brushing against your legs like a whisper. It was simple, white with tiny embroidered flowers, a gift from Satoru during one of your escapades in downtown Tokyo. He’d grinned like an idiot when he bought it, holding it up to you with a dramatic flourish. “My allowance just came in, and my wifey deserves the best,” he’d said, his voice full of that cocky charm that always made your heart skip. You could still hear him, see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when you’d called him insufferable and then kissed him anyway. 

That memory hurt now, a dull ache that settled in your chest as you stood on the beach, staring at the waves. You’d come here to escape, to breathe, to remind yourself that there was still beauty in the world despite everything. Despite the day they’d given you that impossible choice. Despite the way your voice had failed you, the words stuck in your throat as they laid out your fate with clinical precision. 

“Marry or fight,” they’d said, their expressions cold, detached. And you? You’d said nothing. Couldn’t say anything. You’d just stood there, swallowing back the fear, the anger, the overwhelming urge to scream. And now, here you were, on a beach halfway to nowhere, trying to piece together the shattered fragments of your life———-

“Hey, you alright?” 

The voice pulled you from your thoughts, gruff yet kind, with a trace of an accent that always made you think of old westerns and wide-open plains. You turned to see Vincent Shepherd, his tall frame silhouetted against the sunset. The captain’s ever-present gun hung at his side, his hand resting on it like he was ready for anything—or maybe just always expecting the worst. 

You laughed, the sound more genuine than you’d expected. “Do you ever put that thing down?” you asked, nodding toward the gun. 

Vincent raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “What, this?” he said, patting the weapon. “Darlin’, this here’s my best friend. Never lets me down, never talks back. Can’t say the same for some people.” 

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lifted. “Pretty sure it doesn’t have much to say in general.” 

“Exactly,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “Quiet and dependable. Unlike a certain someone who keeps sneakin’ off to the beach without backup.” 

“Backup?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly storming a cursed battlefield here, Shepherd.” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, stepping closer. “You’re out here, and that’s enough for me to worry. You know the drill—eyes open, head on a swivel, gun ready.” 

You laughed again, shaking your head. “I think you’re just paranoid.” 

“Paranoid’s kept me alive this long,” he shot back, though his tone was light. But then his gaze softened, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really goin’ on?” 

Your smile faltered, the weight of his question settling over you like a heavy blanket. Vincent was sharp, perceptive in a way that sometimes made you uncomfortable. He could see through the walls you built, past the jokes and the casual bravado, straight to the parts of you that hurt the most. 

“It’s nothing,” you said quietly, turning your gaze back to the waves. 

“Bullshit,” he said, but there was no heat in his voice. Just concern. “Come on, kid. Spill it. What’s eatin’ at you?” 

You hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. The sunset painted the world in gold and crimson, but it couldn’t mask the ache inside you. Finally, you sighed, crossing your arms as if that could shield you from the vulnerability creeping in. 

“It’s just… everything,” you admitted. “The missions, the… choices. Being here, fighting for a place that doesn’t even belong to me.” 

Vincent was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he stepped closer, his voice low and steady. “Listen to me, kid. You’re not just fightin’ for a place. You’re fightin’ for people. For the ones who can’t fight for themselves. And yeah, it’s dirty, it’s messy, it’s thankless as hell. But it matters.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone. “Vincent…” 

“And you matter,” he continued, cutting you off. “Don’t you dare forget that. I don’t care what those assholes up top say. You’re here, you’re fightin’, and that means somethin’ to me. To all of us.” 

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The lump in your throat was back, but this time it wasn’t fear or anger. It was something softer, something that felt a little like hope. You glanced at him, the rough lines of his face softened by the fading light, and managed a small smile. 

“Thanks, Shepherd,” you said quietly. 

He snorted, the moment of seriousness breaking as he ruffled your hair with a gloved hand. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re still on dish duty tonight.” 

You groaned, but the laugh that followed was genuine. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you felt the ache in your chest ease just a little, the weight of the day a fraction lighter. 

For now, that was enough. 

The night stretched endlessly as you and Shepherd walked side by side, the only sounds the crunch of sand beneath his boots and the distant, rhythmic crash of the waves. The moon hung low, casting a pale silver light that painted the world in soft shadows. The hem of your sundress still swayed in the cool breeze, brushing against your legs like a ghostly touch—one that reminded you too much of a hand you hadn’t felt since late 2007. 

Gojo Satoru’s hand. 

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if the motion could physically expel the thought of him. It didn’t. His memory lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind, leaving behind a sting that burned hotter with every step. 

“Y’know, kid,” Shepherd’s voice broke the silence, low and gravelly. “I’ve been thinkin’. What’s the point of all this? The dirty work? Feels like we’re breakin’ our backs for scraps while the special grades sit nice and comfy, watchin’ the rest of us bleed.” 

His words hit harder than you expected. Your pace slowed as his question echoed in your mind, mingling with memories you had spent so long trying to suppress. 

“I mean, hell,” Shepherd continued, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “We’re out here fightin’ curses, takin’ down rogue sorcerers, cleanin’ up their messes while they could snap their fingers and end it all. Don’t that ever piss you off?” 

It did. God, it did. But the heat in your chest wasn’t anger—it was shame. You felt it claw its way up your throat, twisting into something bitter and heavy. 

“They’re too important to risk their lives,” you said, your voice hollow. 

Shepherd let out a dry laugh, one with no humor behind it. “Bullshit. They’re sittin’ back, keepin’ their hands clean while we drown in blood.” He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve got someone in mind, don’t ya? A name and a face.” 

The air felt thinner all of a sudden, your lungs struggling to draw in a full breath. You swallowed hard, your feet slowing to a stop. 

“I had a classmate,” you said quietly, your gaze fixed on the distant waves. “Someone… powerful. The strongest.” 

The words felt like shards of glass on your tongue, sharp and cutting, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could see him in your mind—Satoru standing tall, his white hair catching the light, that cocky grin plastered across his face like he owned the world. And he did, didn’t he? 

Satoru Gojo, the prodigy, the untouchable. The boy who made you laugh so hard your sides ached, who looked at you like you were the only person in a crowd of thousands. The man who promised you—promised—that no one would ever hurt you. 

And yet, here you were. Hurt. Broken. Abandoned. Were you even abandoned? Was it your fault? 

“If I had told him of everything,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “He could’ve stopped all of this before it even started.” 

Shepherd stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. 

“Then why didn’t you?” he asked, his tone careful. 

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. How could you explain that? That the choice to leave had been taken from you before you could even tell him goodbye? That the memory of his voice calling your name was the only thing keeping you sane some days, and the thing that haunted you on others? 

“I don’t know,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Shepherd frowned, but he didn’t press. “Doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, shaking his head. “A kid like you? You should be up there with the rest of ‘em. Hell, maybe even leadin’ ‘em. What the hell are you doin’ out here, fightin’ my battles?” 

The question hung in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you like a lead blanket. You looked down at your feet, the sand shifting beneath your toes. 

“I don’t know,” you said again, the words tasting bitter. 

Shepherd sighed, running a hand over his face. “Maybe it’s not supposed to make sense,” he said after a moment. “Or maybe the systems just as fucked as we think it is.” 

His words pulled a small, humorless laugh from you. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe.” 

He looked at you then, his eyes softer, less guarded. “Y’know, kid,” he started, his voice quieter now. “You remind me of my daughter. Same stubborn streak. Same look in your eyes like you’re carryin’ the whole damn world on your back.” 

You glanced up at him, startled. “I didn’t know you had a daughter,” you said. 

“Had,” he corrected, his tone rough. “She and her mom… they’re gone. Lost ‘em to a curse user while I was fightin’ overseas. Thought I was doin’ the right thing, protectin’ ‘em by stayin’ away. Turns out, I was dead wrong.” 

The rawness in his voice made your chest tighten, but before you could speak, he shook his head. “I ain’t gonna make that mistake again,” he said firmly. “Not with you.” 

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” 

“I’m gonna protect you,” he said simply, his gaze steady. “Even if it kills me.” 

The lump in your throat returned, but this time it wasn’t just guilt. It was something heavier, something softer. Shepherd had no idea who you really were, what you had with Satoru, or the reasons you’d been torn from him. But his words, his promise—they eased the ache in your chest just a little. 

“Thanks, Shepherd,” you said quietly. 

He ruffled your hair with a rough laugh. “Don’t thank me yet, kid. You’re still on cleanup duty tonight.” 

The smile that tugged at your lips felt foreign but not unwelcome. As the two of you continued walking, the camp lights flickering faintly in the distance, Shepherd spoke again. 

“Did you—i mean back when you were at Jtech, hear of a village fire caused by those fuckers?” he said, his tone almost casual. “The one that took out my family. Does it ring a bell for you?” 

You frowned, the question prickling at something deep in your memory. A flicker of flames, a scent of smoke, screams that you couldn’t place. 

“I don’t know,” you said slowly, your voice uncertain. 

“Well,” Shepherd said, his tone hardening. “If it ever does, you let me know.” 

You nodded, your mind spinning. And as the two of you disappeared into the camp, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your past was creeping closer, its shadow stretching long and dark behind you. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The faint hum of a jukebox played a nostalgic melody in the corner diner, its fluorescent lights casting a warm, cozy glow. Satoru Gojo sat slouched in the booth, his sunglasses pushed up to rest on his head. Across from him, Shoko Ieiri twirled a straw lazily in her iced coffee, her usual nonchalance firmly in place. The diner wasn’t particularly crowded—just a couple of patrons scattered about—but its charm had always drawn them in whenever they found themselves downtown. 

In front of Satoru sat a generous slice of matcha cheesecake, the kind he usually devoured in record time. Tonight, however, the plate remained untouched. 

“Excuse me,” a soft, nervous voice interrupted their conversation—or lack thereof. 

Both of them looked up, and there she stood: a girl, maybe a college student, with flushed cheeks and a shy smile. She clutched her phone like it was her lifeline. 

“Um, hi,” she stammered, her gaze fixed on Satoru. “I was wondering… could I get your number?” 

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement, but Satoru barely blinked. 

“Sorry, can’t do that,” he said, leaning back and adjusting his sunglasses. “I’ve got a girlfriend.” 

The girl’s face fell slightly, but she didn’t back down. “Oh… where is she, then?” 

Before Satoru could respond, Shoko leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “She’s right here,” she said smoothly, gesturing toward herself. “Thanks for asking.” 

The girl blinked, her confusion evident, but she quickly mumbled an apology and scurried off, leaving Satoru and Shoko alone again. 

“You’re welcome,” Shoko said with a smirk, taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Very convincing performance, Shoko. I’ll nominate you for an award,” Satoru quipped, though his tone lacked its usual bite. 

“Please, as if anyone would believe I’m your type,” she shot back, waving her hand dismissively. Her gaze flickered to his plate, her brow furrowing. “Speaking of unbelievable—are you seriously not going to touch that? Matcha cheesecake, Gojo. Your favorite. And look at the size of it. Practically made for you.” 

Satoru didn’t respond immediately. He stared at the cheesecake, his fingers tapping against the table in a steady rhythm. Finally, he let out a sigh, pushing his sunglasses back down over his eyes. 

“What’s on your mind?” Shoko asked, her voice softer now. 

He hesitated, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “Just… stuff.” 

“Uh-huh.” Shoko tilted her head, giving him a look that clearly said she wasn’t buying it. “Come on, you can’t just ‘stuff’ me. Spill.” 

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, almost reluctantly, he muttered, “I still think of her as my girlfriend.” 

Shoko froze, her straw stilling mid-stir. She knew who he meant—of course, she did. She sighed, resting her arms on the table as she studied him. “You’re not eating sugar because you’re moping over her? That’s serious, Gojo.” 

“Who said I’m moping?” he retorted, his tone defensive. 

“You did. With your face.” She motioned toward him, unimpressed. “And the cheesecake. That’s screaming ‘mope.’” 

He gave a half-hearted chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just… I don’t get it, y’know? One day she’s there, and then she’s gone. And no one tells me anything. It’s like she just vanished.” 

Shoko fell silent, her brow furrowing in thought. Her mind turned over the puzzle, piecing together fragments of conversations and whispers she’d overheard during her time as Jujutsu High’s unofficial medic. 

“I might be able to help,” she said suddenly, her tone careful. 

Satoru’s head snapped up, his attention now fully on her. “What do you mean?” 

She hesitated, glancing around the diner before leaning in slightly. “I’ve got access to… certain files. As the school’s only undergrad medic, they trust me with medical records and reports. Including stuff on the Taskforce.” 

His brows shot up. “Taskforce? What taskforce?” 

Shoko sighed, fiddling with the corner of her napkin. “The Jujutsu Society has a special division—kind of like a… clean-up crew. They handle stuff no one else wants to touch. High-risk missions, curses in remote areas, cursed weaponry development. It’s brutal work, and it’s not exactly voluntary.” 

Satoru stared at her like she’d slapped him. “You’re telling me they’ve got a whole group of people risking their necks every day, and they didn’t think to tell me? I’m the strongest—I could end those missions in seconds!” 

“They don’t want you doing that,” Shoko said calmly. “The higher-ups protect the strongest for the big stuff. Wars. Catastrophic curses. Things that only someone like you could handle. They’re not going to waste you on things they think the Taskforce can handle.” 

“Waste me?” he repeated, his voice rising. “I’m not a tool they get to save for a rainy day!” 

Shoko raised a hand, trying to placate him. “I get it, okay? But it’s not just you. I’m in the same boat. They keep me out of the field because I’m the only one who can use reverse cursed technique on other people. They’re not about to risk losing their only medic.” 

He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “That’s different, Shoko. You’re saving lives. They’re just throwing people at problems and hoping for the best.” 

Shoko shrugged, her expression unreadable. “I didn’t say it was fair. Just how it is.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, the din of the diner filling the space between them. Finally, Satoru leaned back, his jaw tight. “You said you could look into it,” he said. “About her. Do you think she’s… there? In the Taskforce?” 

Shoko met his gaze, her eyes steady. “I’ll see what I can find.” 

For the first time that night, Satoru’s expression softened, though the pain in his eyes remained. “Thanks, Shoko.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, smirking. “This could get me into serious trouble, you know.” 

“Trouble’s your middle name,” he shot back, his grin faint but genuine. 

Shoko chuckled, leaning back in her seat. “Yeah, well, don’t forget it. Now eat your damn cheesecake before I do it for you.” 

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Satoru picked up his fork, the faintest glimmer of hope stirring in his chest. 

The night air was crisp, the bustle of downtown Tokyo beginning to quiet as the hour grew late. Satoru and Shoko exited the diner, the neon lights reflecting in scattered puddles along the sidewalk. Satoru shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his mind still racing with the revelation Shoko had dropped about the Taskforce. 

“You’re really not going to let this go, huh?” Shoko asked, her tone casual as she lit a cigarette. 

“Would you?” he shot back, glancing at her. His sunglasses were perched atop his head again, exposing the piercing blue of his eyes—eyes that flickered with something between hope and desperation. 

Shoko exhaled a plume of smoke, shrugging. “Fair point.” 

They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of distant traffic and murmured conversations filling the air. Satoru’s gaze wandered, his thoughts a whirlwind. He was about to say something when he froze, his breath catching in his throat. 

Ahead of them, a woman stood at the edge of the sidewalk, her back to them as she waited for the pedestrian signal to change. She wore a long coat, her dark hair falling in soft waves down her back. The sight of her made Satoru’s chest tighten painfully. 

It couldn’t be. 

Without a word, he stepped forward, his strides quick and determined. Shoko blinked in surprise, hurriedly stubbing out her cigarette and following him. 

“Satoru, what are you—?” 

He didn’t answer. His focus was locked on the woman ahead, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Every rational part of his brain told him it wasn’t possible. But the way her hair caught the light, the way she tilted her head ever so slightly—it was too familiar. 

“Wait!” he called out, his voice sharper than he intended. 

The woman turned her head slightly, startled, but it wasn’t enough. Desperation clawing at him, Satoru reached out and gently grabbed her arm, spinning her around. 

For a moment, the world stopped. 

It wasn’t her. 

The woman stared at him, wide-eyed and terrified, clutching her bag tightly against her chest. “W-What are you doing? Let me go!” 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru said quickly, releasing her arm and stepping back. His voice was unsteady, his mind reeling. “I thought you were someone else.” 

The woman’s fear didn’t fade, her hands trembling as she clutched her bag. Shoko arrived at Satoru’s side, her sharp gaze flitting between him and the woman. 

“Relax,” Shoko said smoothly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “He didn’t mean any harm. Just a misunderstanding.” 

Satoru opened his mouth to apologize again, but then his eyes caught on something—a glint of sapphire at the woman’s throat. His breath hitched. 

The necklace. 

It was unmistakable: a delicate chain with a small sapphire pendant, custom-made because she’d once said his eyes were her favorite shade of blue. 

“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

The woman blinked, her fear momentarily replaced by confusion. “What?” 

“The necklace,” he said, his voice stronger now. “Where did you get it?” 

Her hand instinctively went to the pendant, her grip tightening. “A… a friend gave it to me.” 

Satoru’s stomach dropped. “Who? Where? When?” he demanded, his words spilling out in a rush. 

“I-I don’t know!” the woman stammered, taking a step back. “I don’t even know her name. We just… we worked together once, that’s all!” 

Shoko placed a firm hand on Satoru’s shoulder, tugging him back. “That’s enough,” she said quietly, her voice edged with concern. 

“But—” 

“Satoru,” she said firmly, giving him a look that brokered no argument. 

He exhaled shakily, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. The woman still looked terrified, her eyes darting between them. 

Shoko turned to her, her expression softening. “We’re sorry about this. He really thought you were someone else. What’s your name?” 

The woman hesitated, her gaze flicking to Satoru before returning to Shoko. “It’s Hana,” she said cautiously. 

“Thank you, Hana,” Shoko said with a small nod. “You can go now. Sorry for scaring you.” 

Hana didn’t need to be told twice. She practically ran across the street as soon as the light changed, disappearing into the crowd. 

Shoko watched her go, her sharp eyes catching the faint glimmer of something on Hana’s wrist as she moved. A tattoo. Small and faint, but unmistakable. 

J.S.T.F. 

She frowned, her mind already working through the implications as she turned back to Satoru. He was staring after Hana, his hands trembling at his sides. 

“Let’s go,” Shoko said, tugging his sleeve. 

Satoru didn’t argue, following her in a daze as they made their way toward the train station. 

Once they were seated on the train, the hum of the engine and the sway of the car providing a semblance of normalcy, Shoko finally spoke. 

“She had a J.S.T.F. stamp on her wrist,” she said. 

Satoru turned to her, his brows furrowing. “What does that mean?” 

“It means she’s part of the Jujutsu Special Task Force,” Shoko explained. “Or at least, she was. It’s how they identify Taskforce members—normal sorcerers versus J.S.T.F. operatives. If that woman worked with her, then…” 

Satoru’s eyes widened. “You’re saying she’s alive.” 

“I’m saying it’s possible,” Shoko said carefully. “And now that I have her name, I can look into the files. There might be something there.” 

For the first time that night, a spark of hope lit in Satoru’s eyes. He leaned back in his seat, exhaling deeply. “Thanks, Shoko.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, her tone light despite the weight of their conversation. “You’re lucky I’ve got nothing better to do.” 

Satoru chuckled weakly, his gaze drifting out the window as the city lights blurred past. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t chasing ghosts after all. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The infirmary was silent, save for the hum of the ancient desktop computer and the occasional rustle of paper as Shoko flipped through files stacked in precarious piles. It wasn’t her usual station; this room was unofficial—more like a storage area converted into an impromptu workspace. Cardboard boxes labeled J.S.T.F. were scattered haphazardly around her, their edges worn from years of neglect. 

The fluorescents overhead flickered, casting pale light over Satoru as he slumped in the chair opposite her. His elbows rested on his knees, his white hair falling messily over his forehead, and his trademark sunglasses sat firmly atop his head. There was no trace of the easy confidence he usually exuded. Instead, his eyes were shadowed, distant. 

Shoko glanced up from the computer screen, her cigarette dangling between her fingers. “You’re awfully quiet for once. Not gonna tell me to speed up?” 

Satoru didn’t respond immediately. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his knee. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” he murmured finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She sighed, setting the cigarette in the ashtray beside her. “Crazy? No. Desperate? Definitely. But I get it.” 

He leaned back, his lips twitching into a bitter smile. “Do you? Shoko, I felt her. For a second, I thought... I thought I was going to lose my mind.” He dragged a hand down his face, his frustration palpable. “Two years. She’s been gone for two years. And now, out of nowhere, this?” 

Shoko didn’t answer right away. She understood his pain better than he realized. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, was human after all. “Look,” she said, her voice softer now. “If it’s her, we’ll find out. If it’s not... you need to know, either way. That’s why we’re doing this.” 

He nodded, though his jaw was clenched tight. 

The computer beeped as Shoko typed in the search parameters. “Okay, let’s start with the obvious,” she muttered. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, inputting the name Hana into the system. The screen flickered before pulling up three entries. 

“Three hits,” she said, leaning forward to scan the information. “Alright, first one. Hana Matsuda. Thirty-eight. Definitely not her.” 

Satoru’s gaze sharpened as she clicked on the second name. 

“Hana Ishikawa. Twenty-five. Civilian. Nope.” 

The final file loaded slowly, the outdated system grinding like it was struggling to breathe. Shoko’s eyes narrowed. “Here we go. Hana... Johnson. Age twenty-eight. Six-year veteran of the J.S.T.F., under the command of Captain Vincent Shepherd. American jujutsu sorcerer. Thirty-five years in service, promoted to captain in his fourth year. Thats the girl we saw.” 

Satoru stiffened, the name ringing in his ears. His eyes darted to the screen as Shoko scrolled through the details. "Johnson? do the higher-ups have a thing for drafting foreign sorcerers?"

Shoko mumbles something he couldn't hear, but gives a half nod-- conveying she wasn't entirely sure.

“Shepherd,” he repeated, his tone flat. “That’s the guy that captains everything? the one that—” He cut himself off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Shoko nodded. “Yeah. He’s the one running the team. She’s been under his command for six years...” Her voice trailed off as realization dawned. She glanced at Satoru. 

“what?” he pressed, his voice rising. 

“Look at Shepherd’s profile.” Shoko finished, clicking through more files. Her breath caught as another name appeared. 

“Bingo,” she whispered. 

The screen displayed a profile picture—grainy and poorly lit, but unmistakably you. Your face was sharper now, her features hardened by time and whatever hell she’d endured, but it was her. 

Satoru froze. His world narrowed to that single image, the one he’d thought he’d never see again. His chest tightened as a wave of emotions crashed over him—relief, anger, guilt, and something raw and unnameable. 

“She’s alive,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. 

But Satoru didn’t laugh. His fingers trembled as he reached out, tracing the edge of the screen. The woman in the photo was both familiar and a stranger, her eyes holding a weight he didn’t remember. 

Shoko didn’t know what to say. The strongest sorcerer in the world looked like a man on the verge of breaking, and for once, she had no words to comfort him. 

The glow of the computer screen flickered in the dim office, the silence heavy and suffocating. Satoru stared, his usually bright and sharp eyes wide and disbelieving. Her picture was there, alongside a name he’d never been able to forget. Her name. Her.

“Shoko,” his voice cracked, almost unrecognizable. “What is this?”

Shoko didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the screen, frozen, her cigarette burning down between her fingers. Her brows knitted together as though her mind refused to piece together what she was seeing. “I… I don’t know.”

“That’s her!” he shouted, slamming his hands down on the desk. The computer shook, and so did his voice. “Her name, her picture, her—why the hell is she on this file?”

“I thought—” Shoko swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “I thought she was dead as well. We all thought she was dead, Satoru.”

He pulled back, staggering as if the weight of her words had hit him physically. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, pacing back and forth, his movements erratic. “Dead?” His voice rose, brittle and cracking. “Then why the fuck is she on a classified task force roster? How could—how could she be alive and no one told me?”

Shoko finally moved, taking a shaky drag from her cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “None of this makes sense.”

He froze mid-step, spinning back to her. “Task force members are supposed to be low-grade sorcerers, right? Barely any cursed energy? She was semi-first grade by the end of our first year.”

Shoko looked at him, her usual calm façade nowhere to be found. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “That’s what we have to figure out.”

His chest heaved, his breaths ragged and loud in the still room. “Shoko.” His voice broke, raw and guttural. “Why didn’t I know? How could you not know?”

He turned away, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He hated this—the spiraling fear, the anger clawing at his throat, the gut-wrenching helplessness. For all his power, for everything he could do, he couldn’t reach her. He couldn’t protect her.

Shoko stepped closer, her voice soft but unsteady. “We’ll figure it out,” she murmured. “I promise.”

When her hand landed on his shoulder, Satoru froze, then slowly turned back to her. Without warning, he pulled her into a crushing hug, burying his face in her shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking again. “Thank you, Shoko.”

She patted his back lightly, her own grief mirrored in her touch. “Go get some rest, Satoru. You’re no good to her like this.”

He nodded, releasing her, his trademark cocky smirk flickering to life for just a second. “Yeah. Night, Shoko.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The night was still and cold as he stood in the parking lot, the sleek curves of his black car gleaming under the streetlights. He rolled his eyes, snapping his fingers and teleporting home instead.

The penthouse was immaculate, a study in luxury and emptiness. The marble floors gleamed, the furniture was pristine, and the city skyline stretched endlessly through floor-to-ceiling windows. It was everything anyone could want, but to him, it was nothing.

The silence pressed in as he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his tense muscles. But no amount of heat could thaw the ice in his chest, the hollow ache that had taken root.

Later, he lay sprawled on his massive bed, the silk sheets cool against his skin. His mind refused to quiet. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—her smile, the way she used to roll her eyes when he teased her, the sound of her laugh breaking through the walls he never realized he’d built.

The memories felt cruel now, a double-edged blade that both comforted and destroyed him. He let himself imagine the life they should’ve had—something quieter, simpler. A house by a lake. Her, curled up on the couch with a book while he pretended to read but really just watched her. Kids running barefoot through the grass. A cat lazing on a windowsill, a dog chasing after a ball, maybe even a parrot screeching in the background just because she thought it’d be funny.

He smiled bitterly. “Anything you wanted,” he whispered into the dark, his voice breaking. “Anything you wanted, I’d have given you.”

Reaching for his phone on the nightstand, he scrolled through his photo gallery. Picture after picture filled the screen, each one a moment in time that felt like a lifetime ago. There was her pout when he teased her, her mischievous grin during a mission, her face peaceful as she slept against his shoulder.

Then his finger hovered over a private folder, his pulse quickening. He opened it.

The video played on his phone, the screen dimly lighting the dark room. Satoru lay sprawled on his bed, bare-chested, his hand resting low on his abdomen as his eyes devoured every frame. The grainy quality didn’t matter—her voice, her body, the way she came undone under him—it was all burned into his memory.

He swallowed hard as her moans spilled through the speakers, soft and breathless, laced with the kind of vulnerability only he had been privy to. His cock throbbed beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, and he freed himself with one quick motion, hissing softly as his palm wrapped around the swollen length.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice rough, nearly guttural. His thumb dragged over the sensitive head, smearing precum, and a shudder ripped through him. “You always knew how to ruin me.”

The video showed her writhing beneath him, her back arching, her lips parted as his name tumbled from her mouth like a plea. He matched the rhythm with his hand, slow and torturous, his grip tightening with every stroke. His mind blurred the line between memory and fantasy, the vivid recollection of her warmth, her scent, the way her nails had clawed at his back, begging him for more.

“Miss the way you’d take it,” he rasped, his teeth gritting as his strokes grew faster. His hand slick with precum, the obscene sounds of his movements filled the otherwise silent room. “Miss the way you’d fall apart for me—fuck, look at you.”

The video shifted, showing her face up close, eyes glassy with pleasure, lips swollen from his kisses. He groaned, his hips bucking into his fist as if chasing the ghost of her touch. The ache in his chest burned as hot as the fire pooling low in his abdomen.

“You’d love this, wouldn’t you?” he growled, his voice dropping lower, darker. “Me, falling apart like this. So desperate for you. So fucking pathetic without you.”

The tension coiled tighter, his breathing ragged and shallow, each stroke driving him closer to the edge. Her name spilled from his lips, raw and hoarse, a broken prayer as he imagined her beneath him again, her legs wrapped around his waist, her lips brushing his ear, whispering promises he’d never let her keep.

When release finally hit, it tore through him like a wave, his body arching off the bed as his hand milked every last drop from him. Her name escaped him again, quieter this time, barely audible over the pounding of his heart.

He lay there, chest heaving, his hand sticky and warm, but the satisfaction was fleeting. The hollowness returned almost immediately, swallowing him whole.

With a shaky exhale, he reached for the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning himself with mechanical precision before tossing them aside. Then he opened the drawer, pulling out the small velvet box that felt heavier than it should.

Flipping it open, he stared at the ring inside—a stunning twin-pear cut diamond on a slender gold band. The jeweler had tried to warn him about the price, but he’d only laughed. “Do you think money matters to me? It’s for her.”

His fingers trembled as he brought the ring to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the diamond.

“I’ll find you, baby.” he whispered, his voice barely holding steady as he cracks a small, lopsided weak smile. “what could you be doin’ right now, hm?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The night was alive with chaos. Screams tore through the air as bullets ricocheted and curses shrieked, their grotesque forms illuminated by the staccato flashes of gunfire. The battlefield sprawled like a macabre painting-smoke rising in thick plumes, flames licking at the debris-strewn ground, and the sharp tang of iron and ozone saturating the air.

Shepherd moved through it all like a force of nature, his commands sharp and unyielding as he led his team into the fray. The chemical hangar loomed ahead, a foreboding structure with jagged shadows clawing at its edges. It was their target, the heart of the enemy's twisted operation, and it needed to be neutralized at all costs.

"Cover the rear! Don't let those bastards flank us!" Shepherd barked, his revolver spitting cursed energy into the night. The weapon's rounds glowed faintly, cutting through the inky darkness as they tore into a curse lunging from the rubble. It let out a guttural scream before disintegrating into ash.

Behind him, the team moved like a well-oiled machine, their formation tight despite the relentless assault.

They were soldiers, each of them hardened by battles far too numerous to count, but even they couldn't mask the tension etched into their movements.

“Hostiles incoming-two o'clock!" one of the soldiers shouted, swiveling to unleash a barrage of gunfire. The bullets caught a humanoid curse mid-leap, its misshapen body convulsing as it hit the ground, twitching before falling still.

Another curse-a grotesque, serpent-like monstrosity

-slithered toward them, its eyes glowing with malice.

Shepherd didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his hand crackling with cursed energy as he slammed his palm into the creature's head. The curse writhed, its hiss morphing into a scream as Shepherd's technique surged through it, obliterating it from the inside out.

"Keep moving!" he roared, turning to face his team.

"The clock's ticking!"

Inside the hangar, the air was suffocating, heavy with the acrid stench of chemicals and the faint hum of cursed energy. The barrels lining the walls seemed to pulse with malevolence, each one a ticking time bomb of destruction waiting to be unleashed.

The team fanned out, their boots echoing against the concrete floor as they worked with practiced efficiency.

Charges were placed with swift precision, the adhesive strips sticking to the tanks with muted clicks.

"Status?" Shepherd's voice was a low growl, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space for movement.

"Almost done, Captain," one of the soldiers replied, sweat streaking his dirt-smudged face as he secured the final charge. "Two minutes to finish the setup."

The words had barely left his mouth when the shadows shifted, and curses began to materialize from the darkness.

They came in a wave-hulking beasts with jagged limbs, their eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.

The soldiers reacted instantly, opening fire in a deafening cacophony. Shells clattered to the ground as bullets tore through the air, some embedding themselves in the curses' grotesque forms while others ricocheted off the walls.

One of the larger curses—a grotesque amalgamation of limbs and teeth-barreled toward the group, its roar shaking the ground. Shepherd met it head-on, his cursed energy igniting like a wildfire. He dodged its swiping claws with practiced ease, his movements fluid and lethal as he closed the distance.

The curse lunged, its jaws snapping shut inches from his face. Shepherd countered with a brutal uppercut, his cursed energy-enhanced strike shattering its lower jaw. The creature staggered back, and he followed up with a series of rapid blows, each one punctuated by the sickening crunch of bones.

Behind him, another soldier let out a sharp cry as a curse pinned him against a barrel. Before it could land the killing blow, a bullet tore through its head, and it crumpled to the ground. Shepherd spared a glance at the soldier, nodding once before returning his focus to the fray.

"Team Bravo, report!"

"Charges are secure, Captain! We're ready to exfil!"

"Good. Move out! Cover each other and keep those bastards off our backs!"

The team began their retreat, their movements quick but deliberate as they wove through the chaos.

Shepherd brought up the rear, his revolver barking with each pull of the trigger, every shot a precise kill.

Outside, the battlefield was no less chaotic. Smoke hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of blood and burnt flesh. The aircraft still loomed above, a silent predator waiting for the signal.

Shepherd's voice crackled through the radio, cutting through the static. "Eagle One, blow 'em to hell, doll."

For a moment, there was silence.

Inside the cockpit, the world seemed to still. You exhaled slowly, your breath fogging the glass as your hands moved with meticulous precision. The targeting system beeped softly, its crosshairs locking onto the heart of the hangar.

The chaos below was a distant memory, muted by the hum of the engines and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. Your finger hovered over the trigger, and for a split second, you let yourself feel the weight of it-the lives, the destruction, the purpose carved out for you in the shadows of this war.

Your lips curled into a faint smile, a chilling edge to it as your voice cut through the silence.

"Yes, Captain."

lets go.

© 2025 All Rights Reserved mymoonisgrey

Taglist is open!

@lavnder311

[melancholymarrow]

Heyyy idk if this has been done before, but I went crazy and made a very detailed Howl's Moving Castle AU for Gravity Falls :DD

(Sorry in advance for the lack of arms. Drawing arms is like the bane of my existence hhhhh)

Lore for the au below cut

Basically, Fiddleford is Sophie, and Stanford is Howl. Fidds is like an engineer, but he wants to be an inventor & experiment with mixing magic and tech.

Ford, better known as The Great Wizard Stanford, is both a sorcerer and a scientist. When he was younger, he swallowed a star, making a deal with it. In exchange for great wisdom and power, Ford traded his heart. When this happened, the star's soul split in two. One latched on to a piece of Ford’s soul, taking his heart as it's vessel. This entity is Cipher, who appears as a ball of blue fire with a small yellow triangle with one eye in it's center. Cipher is Calcifer in this au. Because this part of the soul merged partly with Ford's, they share/swap some personality traits. Cipher has more of a conscience than og Bill, and Ford is a bit more vain about his appearance (he magics his hair blonde for a while at the start of the story).

The other part of the star's soul became a human-appearing demon. He named himself Bill, but most know him as the Demon of the Falls. Bill worked closely together with Ford for a time, but ended up betraying him and showing his true colors. After this, Ford fought Bill but ended up fleeing when it became clear he would lose the battle. He's been spending years trying to find a way to defeat Bill so that he doesn't hurt many more people.

The mystery twins take the place of Markl in this au. The Stans are just their uncles in this au, not great uncles. Shermie is their dad, and he's away fighting in the war. The twins were sent to live with Stanford when the war started so that Ford would keep them safe and also teach them magic.

Stanley takes the place of Turnip Head. Stan had been pretending to be Ford for a while to scam people, and Bill accidently tracked him down instead of Ford. Bill was pissed when he figured this out and cursed Stan to be a scarecrow. Fiddleford, when he was leaving home after he'd been cursed, found Stan stuck in a bush. He'd thought he could use the stick as a cane, but quickly found out it was another guy with a curse on him. Stan had been stuck in the bush for three days and could tell that Fidds had also been cursed, so he decided to help him out. Stan gave Fidds his 8-ball staff to use as a cane and led him to the moving castle.

I have wayyy more already thought out if y'all are interested at all. Might post some art of other characters in the au later.

[my-pjo-stuff]

At this point I think we've all seen the "Luke is a heartless monster who just started a war because of daddy issues and cared for no one" take. Which.... I'll be honest is even stupider than the pedo take imo. But it did give me the idea for this. So let's all have a thought experiment together :

What if Luke was an actual heartless monster who cared for no one?

Here's how I think it would go : >TLT goes the relative same, as Kronos wanted Percy to be his OG body I doubt Luke would seriously harm him there. >Shit starts going down in SOM. Because since he cares for no one and nothing he would have no intrest in getting Thalia. If I remember the plan with her only came up after she returned, so Luke just poisions the tree and lets it die to weaken CHB while getting the fleece himself. Possibly sending Al or other demigods >Which means that A)Thalia's tree is now just straight up DEAD including her and B)Kronos is back MUCH sooner since they have the fleece now. >If we still have the plot with Annabeth and Artemis in TTC then Annabeth just straight up dies, since Luke has no reason to protect her. Since there's no Thalia to take Luke at the finale someone else would need to fight him- or he'd team up with Atlas on Artemis. I'm gonna go with possibly Zoe or someone taking the sky from Artemis so Percy can go up against Luke. >Luke ends up capturing Percy to use as Kronos' body since let's be real, Percy had no chance in a 1v1 against Luke. Everytime they had one in canon Percy always lost until someone came to help him by surprise attacking Luke. >Percy ends up being forced to be Kronos' vessel as he's brought back. >The gods are overthrown, practically every character not in the TA dies and Luke wins.

AND THAT'S JUST HOW I'D THINK THE PLOT WOULD LOGICALY GO FROM THE START

Here are other situations I think would have been WILDLY different:

>Thalia going up to fight Luke in TTC would just end with her getting killed since he'd have no real reason to be so broken up over her or be in a bad mental state which gave Thalia the advantage she had. Thalia dies. >If Kronos didn't need Percy Luke wouldn't have done that last attempt to recruit him at the end of TLT and would only see Percy as a threat. Meaning he'd kill 12 y/o Percy in his sleep before taking off to get rid of that risk factor. >He never would have given Annabeth that dagger since he's purely selfish here. He'd probably have kept it for himself as a weapon. >Oh also NONE of the kids he rly cared for are getting any real care. Best he does in periodically manipulate them to keep them on his side- but even that would only happen after he already decided to go after the gods. So for the first time at camp he just does his own business. >This means Annabeth has NO real comfort after Thalia dies! >Oh also RIP Annabeth and Percy in SOM when they get on Luke's ship and Kronos doesn't need/want Percy. Because they IMMEDIATELY get jumped and killed by monsters. Yeah, no good night of rest for them, just immediate attack and kill. >Grover dies to the cyclops in the meanwhile. >If by some miracle they make it to TLO and Kronos does posess Luke like in canon everyone ALSO dies since Annabeth's "family Luke, you promised!" wouldn't have worked either.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk!

[fountainpenguin]

do you mayhaps have anything regarding the biology of yugopotamians in ur lore notes, or anything else related?

I do, and I hold my Yugopotamian biology post fondly since it was one of my first big lore posts.

I do consider these posts outdated due to terminology I used back in the day (not to mention, I've changed things in my final lore), so take them with a grain of salt.

I plan to write new Yugopotamian lore posts with up-to-date lore and language when I'm closer to posting Mark and Vicky's arc in the 130 Prompts. Here are the existing ones:

Yugopotamian Biology

Yugopotamian Technology

Yugopotamian Name Culture

Related:

The Green Train story arc will explore Yugopotamia as well, once we reach that point in the timeline.

A post dedicated to screenshots of Mark being ridiculous - Interesting to see how his culture shows in his character

OG script of "Spaced Out" - Yugopotamia has 3 moons

OG script of "Scary Godparents" - Yugopotamians have 4 hearts

Yugopotamian calendar shown in this post - I think it's really funny that the king's birthday is a holiday (But specifically, it's not even his actual birthday- it's just observed).

The OG script of "Foul Balled" where Mark visited future Vicky in the nursing home - I just think it's neat he was still in squid form, since we know from "New Squid In Town" that Mark seems to assume he'll be welcomed in alien form and Timmy has to prompt him to go into hiding.

The bloopers reel for "School's Out - The Musical" suggests Mark knows H.P., since he calls him by name. I have some questions.

Here are two posts (Post 1, Post 2) that aren't technically about Yugopotamian culture, but capture my vision of Mark's relationship with Vicky really well.

Here's a post I made contrasting Mark and Vicky's relationship to Jane Eyre, which I was reading at the time and losing my mind over how toxic Jane's relationship with Rochester was despite my teacher being confused about why I thought they were toxic. It's not entirely about culture, but it's cool to look back on years later to see where my thoughts were and how I read Mark's character. I still hold by much of this.

My very first FOP post was about Mark and his relationship with Earth, and that's cool enough to toss on here, I think! Just an analysis of how he was interacting with the world and human culture.

Boudacian Biology & Society - Not about Yugopotamia, but Mandie's close, right?

Please enjoy them, but again - These posts are 7 or 8 years old, and some contain outdated lore and terms I no longer use today.

I look forward to delving more into Fairy World's relationship with Yugopotamia. Here are more things related to that:

- The Fae Wars - The early part discusses aliens engaged in war. Supposedly, the Snobulacs (from Season 9) kidnapped the ancestors of modern Fairies and Anti-Fairies and forced them into war. - Yugopotamians nearly wiped the Fae ancestors out multiple times, but they were defended by the Snobulacs. To this day, the Snobulacs demand tribute from Fairy World every year (on December 31st), which my 'fics reference on rare occasion (Ex: H.P. wanted to be part of the ships delivering tribute when he was young). - As time went on, Yugopotamians began a cautious friendship with Fairy World. They have trade relations under the Quadrant Pact and they're on okay terms... Tensions spiked a little with Cosmo and Wanda kidnapping Mark in Season 1 ("Spaced Out"), and Mark blowing up Fairy World in Season 5 ("The Five Days of F.L.A.R.G.") - Yugopotamians are one of the threats to Anti-Fairies. Anti-Fairies are sometimes captured by various aliens, who take their tongues because they're valuable in many societies (due to a belief that they improve fertility and luckiness in love). - The Fairy World port city Serentip - often referenced in my 'fics; its name translates to "Edge of the stars" - welcomes many alien trade vessels. There are a lot of strange goods in that area and you might run into aliens. Anti-Fairies give it a wide berth. - Here's a "Wishology" meme I made that still cracks me up

Thanks for asking!

[acaribeau]

The vessels

Mammon x gn!reader (Can be seen as platonic) ✦ 1k words ✦ SFW ✦ on AO3 ✦ Masterlist TW : mention of corpses, slight gore at the end. Content : situated in S3 of og OM, creepy hc about demons and their influence in the human world, with slight fluff and gore at the end.

After the incident with Solomon's cooking in Serenity Manor, you found out the creepy reason why Mammon wasn't affected as the others.

I was relaxing with Asmo and Satan in the common room of Serenity Manor. After almost dying from eating Solomon's cooking they were pretty exhausted.

“Ahhh~ I thought I was going to die! I can't believe how Solomon can cook even worse each time he touches the kitchen!” 

“I didn’t think food could knock up cold demons for hours”

“And I can't believe stupid Mammon was able to eat it and be fine! Ugh… It's so unfair!”

“It probably has to do with his dead vessel and it's incapability to digest food… or the thing Solomon gave us whatever it is”

“But why should he have to be the one that didn't suffer just because he couldn't do a simple thing and keep a fucking human alive?!” 

“Ahhh… what are you talking about?”

They all looked at me as if suddenly remembering that I was in the room as well. I knew those faces… they just said something they shouldn't.

“Well… as you know, humans need to train their souls to support the strong magic in Devildom like you do your tasks, demons can't stay too long in the human world without a vessel. That consumes too much magic. We, as avatars, have enough magic to form a solid humanoid body for as long as we please… but our sins affect humans, increasing the temptation in their souls” 

“So… if we wanted to stay with you here without causing a war… we kinda have to possess some humans”

“But Lucifer and Satan came before and nothing happened…”

“Are you sure? Don't you remember what happened on the train?” 

“That's why Griselda was killed?! We were the reason for her death?!”

“Of course not. Her apprentice was already planning it. He was already consumed by pride, greed and jealousy. We only… gave him a push.”

“So… all of you are possessing someone at this moment? Are they like… trapped in their body? You just snatched the first human you saw or-?”

“Of course not! Not anyone can have the fortune of having moi inside them, physically or spiritually~”

“They all consented and they aren't conscious if that's what you’re worrying about. All of them wanted something so we made a deal for using their bodies temporarily. Most of us had losses”

“We all have our own standards, but yeah, I would normally claim their soul for eternal beauty. Instead, they even got the privilege of being my host… I really gave her everything someone can wish for~”

“And… Why did you say that Mammon wasn't sick?”

“Because that excuse of a demon killed his vessel before even making a deal. And even worse, he decided to use that body! He's stinking all over the house!” 

“I haven't smelled anything…”

“Of course not. Humans can't smell death like us”

“We were in a rush, and since you took too much time choosing yours, by the time that idiot would have chosen another, the holidays would have been over” 

“I don't know what he did to convince Lucifer to allow that… It's so humiliating having someone like him as a brother. What if someone finds out? We’ll be the laughing stock for centuries! I bet he just didn't want to pay him so he killed him… ugh”

“It really is a disgrace that someone can call himself a ruler of hell and can't get himself a living vessel”

“Just imagining how gross and sticky he must be feeling in that gives me goosebumps. See?”

Asmo took that as an excuse to grab my arm and hug me, showing me that he wasn’t lying.

I stayed there a couple of minutes more, but there was something annoying me, so I knocked on Mammon's door.

“Can I come in?" I said while poking my head through the door "I have instant noodles with hot sauce… they are not as hot as your favorites… but-"

Mammon jumped from his bed to the door "Yeah! Come in! What movie do you want to see?"

After choosing a movie, we were sitting on his sofa.

“So… I heard you are in a dead man…”

“W-WHAT? Wh-Who told you that? It was Levi? That scoundrel! I swear-”

“It doesn't matter who told me. I heard that is uncomfortable… Are you ok?”

Mammon didn't answer for a second, looking dumbfounded at me.

“…you heard I killed someone and you care about how I am doing?... Pfff! You really are a weirdo. Yeah, I'm fine. It isn't the best sensation but I can live with that”

We kept watching the movie for a while, but I couldn't contain my curiosity.

“And… Why did you do it? Killing him, I mean”

“…He was a bastard. He tried to bargain with the soul and body of his son instead of his… he was only 16 ya know? And it wasn't the first time he used him, it was written all over his body… I wasn't going to bargain with that shit! So I just took what I needed…”

“And what happened with the kid?”

“I made sure he received all the things from his father and then I asked the witches who told me to go with that asshole to take care of him”

“Wait, he was friends with the witches? Wouldn't you be in trouble?”

“Nah, I'm pretty sure they knew I was going to kill him when they sent me. He probably owed them money or something, I don't know and I don't care…”

We returned our attention to the movie until I heard him whisper shyly.

"So… aren't you freaked out by that? By me?..."

I just snuggled into him as an answer. I could feel him sigh in relief and kiss me on the forehead. I inhaled strongly, trying to smell what Asmo did, but all I could smell and feel was my demon.

Bonus:

A couple of weeks later, Satan teleported to the common room, with a knife buried in his abdomen, covered in blood and holding a head.

Mammon burst into laughter when he saw him.

“And who did you say couldn't keep a body alive??”

Satan threw him the head across the room but Mammon avoided it at the last second,  staining the sofa with blood.

“OI!”

“Not. A. Single. Word!”

“I hope you were planning on cleaning that”

“SHUT UP!" He shouted while slamming his door.

If you liked my work, please like, reblog and comment. My asks amd DMs are always open. I would love to hear your opinion, your words are my fuel to keep writing ♡

Don't repost please. I'm not native speaker, if you see any typo let me know.

[agent-8449]

Agent Logos CJverse chatroom summary.... REAL!!!!

Clears throat. This may be a long post, be warned. Actually, yeah. Bwoink.

The OG AU: Voice of Reason

Whole: Dead as fuck. Sort of. Way before the events of the comic, their Whole 'died'. We refer to not-dead Whole OOCly as 'Hope', but he also sort of exists afterwards as a figment of himself-- the 'shadow' called Cast. Cast can only speak in song lyrics, and currently resides in... the TMAverse, as a cursed item. Woaw.

Heart: Would kill you if you called him Heart. Ozzy/Oz/Ozymandias is a real piece of work. Sourceless guilt incarnate, magically influenced by a cursed mirror to eat it, in a symbolic attempt to erase himself. He's so chill. So fine. So cool. Definitely not so close to collapsing at all times. Got glasses though.

Mind: Tinker/Ulysses. So violently soggy, but hides it under his inexplicable British accent and polite demeanour. Made the transmitters that allow Thirds to traverse between their Surrealities. He half-regrets this. The only one of the three fully aware that Cast is an actual sentient guy. Hid his Soul's trident in his hand after the comic, and so that hole is very much still there <he's 'fixing' it atm...>

Soul: Coda. Coba. Coba Cola. What a disaster. After the comic, it <he/it> was kept in his room as much as possible. Then Oz left, and he completely lost it. It was a big storyline, so feel free to ask about it. Coda is really fun because he's not sane

Me-only AU 2: The Negatives

Whole: Eris... also known as Chase. The Negatives are a sort of "reversal of personality". Eris is a shitty content farm-making YouTuber, and generally hates this too. He also has to deal with the Cold War he sort of constructed with his own Thirds. He remembers what his Thirds do, which is good because he split <past tense> often... like. Every day. They called it 'shifts'. Yeah.

Heart: Phobos, ahhhhh my horrible boy Phobos. Personification of egoism, self-aggrandization, imagination, and intrusive thoughts. Green. Mean. A bitch and a half. Generally sadistic. The de-facto leader of the Negative Thirds. Wears crocs. Idolises Whole.

Mind: Deimos. That is all. Personification of logic, reasoning, and thinking ahead. He is also an absolute goon and pushover. All too happy to be Phobos' lackey.

Soul: Nemesis, though he hates that nickname. Personification of 'cringe culture', self-doubt, second-hand embarassment, and critical thinking. Basically ignored by the other two. Does all the work in the Vessel. Clinically annoyed by everything all the time. Very spiteful.

ASSORTED GUYS <from co-op AUs>:

Allen: Soul from Voib, Andy, Shade and I's AI AU, also known as Reification Initiative: Apotheosis. Yeah I came up with that. My bad. Allen is shitty. So very shitty. Ran away. That's all I can say for now.

Valentine: Heart from WAAAILSSSSSS IT'S ONLY ME BUT HIS COUNTERPARTS ARE ALL DEAAAAD. The Bachelor AU, a 'Lonely' AU. He is trying to live his life now that he fucked up and he's alone. He committed arson. He has to go to government-mandated therapy. He is beloved.

Nyx: Whole from Xanadu AU. Haven't done much with him, but he's in space, and he's an idiot.

Vlinder: :>

Thyme: Mind from the Aonaran/Apocalypse AU. The world ended. It be like that sometimes. And the stress got to their Whole. Thyme killed multiple people.

Pursuit: Heart (2) from Voib's Labyrinths AU. He is big kitty cat lad. Does eat people. Tries to maintain the status quo. Genuinely satisfied with the state of things.

Magna: Mind from Demersal AU. Basically, he got pitted instead of Heart for being a delusional little shit. He did not get any less delusional. Conspiracy nut, drowning 1/4th of the time, and generally horrible person.

Brevity: Soul from Voib and I's Syncopation AU. Olde Mann. No legs, they froze off. He is not mentally well at all, but he's got to keep it together if he wants to continue being 'him'.

Crawl: Heart from the Asides AU. Fourth-wall breaking eldritch horror. Collector of things. Collector of extinct things. Full name 'Crawl of the Horizon'.

"Quinn": Soul from Good Day. Very new AU with me, Voib, Q-ott, and Ledge <@/nitroish>. Meant to be close to album guys. He's denying his halves exist and matter atm.

There you go! Not including the alternate timelines because jesus christ

[hanasnx]

i've loved the whole starlet reader little bits and bobs recently. she's my babygirl, i have posters of her up on my walls and her playboy cover under my bed <33

i know the au! is hayden-based, but my brain circled around anakin for this one. 

in my mind the prequels take place in what would be our 1940s or 1950s as the ogs reflected closer the political context of the 60s. 

which lends itself for a golden-age starlet reader, and i wanted to share a thought! ITS SO LONG IM SO SORRY  ;;

-🥩

with a war raging on, people need some sort of distraction as to not go insane with the politics and bloodshed of it all - an escapism the entertainment industry is more than happy to provide. anything you could possibly want to escape your own life for a little while, they have. 

i like to imagine each clone legion has has their own taste when it comes down to their poison of choice - the 302th are very into the thrillers of an acclaimed silver fox actor. the 127th favour comedies regardless of whoever stars in them.

the 501st claimed starlet!reader as their girl. that's quite literally how she's known in the clones barracks, "the 501st's girl".

the legion is very familiar with their girl and her filmography. even though not all of her repertoire is romance, that's the one genre they indulge in the most.  

in the two hours they get to spend with her, they get to live the romance of a lifetime they may never get to experience otherwise. she's their forbidden lover, their wife, their temptress.

their girl, really.

she's special to them, even if in a parasocial way. it's a tragic thought to think how many of them passed with a picture of her on the windshield of their ship. 

maybe that's why anakin agreed to watch a holo-film of hers with the 401st. it's important to them, so it's important to him. a little bonding time. 

he just didn't expect to become so quickly enraptured with you, too - not in the same way his clone comrades are, their girl is the vessel for their fantasies. to anakin? you're his fantasy. 

i doubt he cares much for your movies, i think he prefers your interviews and commercials.  he has a few favorite frames he comes back to often. 

he lingers on them more than he should - a parasocial relationship *hardly* counts as an attachment anyways. 

considering how most holo-projections are 3D, i'm sure he's already familiar with your form, from head to toes. 

but no projection can compare to seeing the real thing for the first time - you were actually real? he couldn't wrap his head around that idea. 

i mean, you looked real when you arrived in a pretty little white-blue outfit, accompanied by palpatine, (who ofc organized the whole thing). you were all smiles and waves, clearly trying to make contact with as many eyes as you could before you went onstage.  

you sounded real when you yelped and giggled when you almost tripped on the slippery stairs when you were headed center to deliver a small speech to your boys (as you so lovingly called them). 

but what really almost sold him on the fact that you were real, was feeling you. physically you were meters away, but with his connection to the force? you were almost breathing down his neck with how close he felt your force presence. the very essence of what makes you, you. 

you were singing your heart out up there -  oblivious to how you intoxicated almost all of anakin's senses by simply existing in the same space as him. 

he just really needed to confirm you tasted real, to be completly sold on your existence as something beyond a hallucination of his haunted mind. 

WHAT THE FUCK

look i dont like long inbox msgs bcos its rly difficult for me to focus on them and all that etc etc whatever whatever but this.. this i loved reading. i want more of it. i want to hear more about the 501st's girl and how ppl joke about it "oh hows your lil girlfriend??" as if shes the collective gf of this division sldfj. i wonder how anakin gets closer, do you feel drawn to him too? if so, is it cos hes pretty or is it a magical thing? are the 501st jealous or playfully jealous over anakins success in bagging you??

my cheeks slowly heated up the entire time i read it i rly enjoyed it omg

[foggysirens]

👀 That WIP wouldn't happen to be the one I asked about before, would it? Because I have a couple other thoughts. Such as, does Cas ever find it hard to look at Luke & Leia because of how brightly they shine in the Force, is Sam Grogu's fave member of TFW because he likes to be tall, and is Bobby around (and how does the og trio react to a gruff softy of a father figure?)

Also, I'll have to check out that fic when my brain let's me read things again, I've been curious about destiel fic before, but the sheer volume of them is intimidating af. 😂 Congratulations on the pie, it looked amazing, and I'm certain Dean would be very excited, too. For your amusement, I have just today gotten a third RL friend to start SPN even though I've only made it about halfway through so far myself (I WILL finish it eventually, my brain is just uncooperative atm.)

close! the wip is actually the star wars supernatural!au rewrite ive begun to write with leia and luke as hunter siblings with leia as sam and luke as dean because i am obsessed with the idea of the twins being the Michael and Lucifer vessels and the angst of it all and anakin works so well as john and padme as mary and obi-wan as bobby and hmmnnag

anyways it’s going well but it’s going to be an ORDEAL

im gonna put a read more here to answer the rest of your ask cause i have THOUGHTS

OKAY holy shit the spn/sw crossover has been living in my head rent free too and i am now obsessed with the idea of cas just staring at luke and leia because of how bright they are in the force and dean gets really jealous because he is the one that cas usual stares at until cas tells him that while the force within luke and leia is beautiful, it’s like looking directly into the sun - harsh and violent and blinding - but the force within dean is like wading into a cool lake - safe and soothing and his - and deans not so jealous anymore

grogu absolutely loves sam because he’s quieter than the others and he clings to sams back and does not let go and it takes twenty minutes of din trying to pry him off and eventually having to bribe him with cookies to make him let go but half an hour later he’s back tugging on sams leg to be picked up and honestly? sam loves it and makes a little carrier to put him in so grogu can hang out and walk around with him all day :) they also get along well cause sam is a sassy shit and so is grogu

BOBBY i didn’t even think about bobby but yes i can absolutely see him as like a gruff mechanic peli motto type who back in the day was a records keeper of coruscant but after the empire took over moved to tatooine and took up shop as a mechanic there and once sam and dean join the rebels he ends up moving to one of the bases to help with intel gathering and acts as a missions coordinator - and as for the og trio i think luke would see a lot of uncle owen in bobby so i think he’d take to bobby right away and they’d get along great, leia would be absolutely fascinated by him and they’d take galaxy politics all the time, but i think he’d butt heads with han the same way he does with dean sometimes and dishes out a lot of tough love to that idjit

as for fic! if you’re curious about destiel fic id also recommend psalm 40:2 by unicornpoe (which altered my brain chemistry irreversibly) - tell me about the dream by playedwright (a s6 divergent au which had me rolling on the floor screaming) and spiders by opal_bullets (this fic made me have a mini-breakdown at work over my love for dean winchester) i also have many more recs and love sharing fic so if you do end up dipping your toe into the fic pool and want more let me know!

AND THANK YOU I ABSOLUTELY MADE THAT PIE WITH HIM IN MIND BECAUSE I AM UNWELL SO THAT IS A WONDERFUL COMPLIMENT AND HIGH PRAISE - i also love that you are getting irls into spn that is such a power move - and also i haven’t actually finished the entire series either i stopped watching ages ago at s10 and i have just actually finished s11 for the first time!!

thank you so much for the ask! sorry about the sheer volume of this answer post and i hope you had a happy New Year’s Day!

[shukakumoodboard]

16

20

why are these numbers so enormous on my screen. help

16. you can’t understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

wooby gaara headcanons. that man is sunan royalty, a ninja president, one of the most powerful shinobi around, murder count in the thousands probably, you really think he's gonna be sitting there blushing and gossiping about his crushes to friends, or like uwu-ing over a romantic declaration? i won't name names because people are entitled to their own fandom experience even if i don't agree, but i'll see it in the tags and be like get real with me rn. there's a difference between giving a soft or gentle side to a character and projecting your own squee behaviours onto them. reminder this man was a formerly insane beast vessel who killed people at random, and afterwards he's a guilt ridden village leader on a slow redemption path learning about social relationships. he's not gonna act like a blushy middle school girl.

note: there's nothing wrong with blushy middle school girls. it's just really fucking nonsensical when applied to gaara of the fucking desert

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

lmaoooooo ok jokes aside like.... most? of shippuden? i must again caveat i haven't watched most of the episodes myself, but the plot as described via the internet and the ultimate games. i just. i thought the whole purpose of this show was about underdog ninjas and surpassing one's limits. and then we get into shippuden and magic moons and absurd power scaling and the retcons and the dumping off of all the amazing starts for side characters, and edo tensei bringing characters back that didn't need to be there, and and...

i just think shippuden, particularly the latter half, completely fails to fulfill a solid start made in og nart and that makes it so unengaging for me. the war arc especially just. sucked. there was one good part and it was the gai 8 gates sequence thats all

shit-talking answers lfg

[busghost]

“Family, friends, happiness, memories, dreams, hope, future, love... She does not deserve it. She is unworthy of this. She will never get these.” Hey, I am REALLY curious about where the personal loathing HoV has comes from. It doesn’t seem so personal to the other Herrschers... I wonder if it’s born from Sirin’s jealousy against OG Kiana? Or if it’s twisted self hatred...??

I think the reason that it seems specific to the Herrscher of the Void is that all the Herrschers of the Current Era have been extremely different from each other. The Herrscher of Reason doesn't get a Herrscher personality as far as I can tell, the 3rd Herrscher thought Mei was a coward and also told the Honkai to fuck off cause she had an identity crisis, Wendy wasn't explored enough as a character to say anything, Ana lost her sense of self basically becoming feral, Owl immediately gave himself up to Ana to create the Herrscher of the Rimestar, Sentience thinks she's Fu Hua, and Domination is a hivemind.

My point is that I don't think there's such thing as a typical Herrscher at least in this era so the Herrscher of the Void can be exactly what they need her to be a personal antagonist for Kiana. And HoV really is made to make Kiana suffer. It's like she's all of Kiana's cruelness and hatred dialed up to 11. If one believes in karmic retribution, it certainly seems like she's getting her comeuppance for the pain she inflicted during the Second Honkai War. I think that's rather cruel and far too much of a black and white view of morality. But that's enough of the meta reasons, why does she hate her in-universe?

I can't say definitively why HoV hates Kiana so much but I can come up with some ideas that I can't confirm. Hating humans is part of what the Honkai does and Kiana interfering with HoV so often has made her particularly hateful towards her. Maybe she doesn't even recognize Kiana as a person, she does often simply says she's her vessel and her existence being an obstruction to HoV's apocalypse. I could make guesses at any number of things and I couldn't be certain about it.

I think this answer got a little ramble-y sorry about that. I’d love to hear everyone else’s thoughts though!

[nanogrem]

I didn’t know you have an Undertale AU! May I ask what it’s about?

sorry this took so loNg,

a pretty long ramble under the cut

As of now AU in itself has little deviation from the original storyline, the main cast is still there with nothing more than a few outfit redesigns and Frisk has already completed their series of runs and resets before finally settling on a pacifist route to end On. They get to enjoy their ending!

My alternative universe just adds characters that don’t exist and expands on known events that occur during the human-monster war, underground, and 4- 5 years on the surf after that pacifist ending.

I made this as a way to experiment with The War, the mages and souls, the Gaster followers (this in itself I probably won’t touch on too much until Deltarune has fully released in hopes we actually get more info on that, there is only one character I have that associated with Gaster and the other scientists), new characters and their reactions to their own little loop (taking advantage of it even on one occasion) before settling on a pretty  ambiguous ending.

For example;

** The idea of Mages gaining their magic abilities via a monster soul, which in itself would be rare as very few monster souls are able to actually exist outside of the monster - and giving up that magic in the spell to create the barrier

**I'm actively developing the war aspect of this, looking into terms and strategies of older and historic wars and reading into the lore trying to get an idea of how they would have fought, diplomatic attempts, Asgore and his role as the commanding force. I also try to differentiate encounters and physical fights a bit. Physical being vs Magic being

As said, little deviation from the original game during this time.

**From what we know in the original game, monsters can’t absorb another monster's soul - ended up taking this peice of info and flipping it just a bit… determination is one hell of an adhesive.

***My cast doesn’t have much interaction with the OG cast,but there is some wholesome interaction between Undyne and Aucori with her being a veteran and all, Hershys infatuation with Muffet (Dw I won’t make it a ship), as well as Sans being Sans - Aucori has a genuine disdain for this man. First monster to get put on the “Do not serve” list.

****The main plot in itself features small-scale human-monster conflict that results in a SAVE point being unknowingly activated by the current active vessel, the rest is to be revealed.

Some sillier little aspects like;

*Froggits can have subtle color shifts, Wednesday (bandana froggit) shows this by gradually taking on a yellow hue after being given their bandana

*Despite lacking eyes, Reece can use their magic to ‘see’ around themselves in a small area - feels like a light pressure to anyone in its radius when they use it!

Pretty boring compared to what’s already out there, it’s just another AU that adds some additional characters, a short story to accompany said characters, and head cannons without changing the original storyline too much - a big ‘what if’ in hindsight!

This is definitely subject to change, I might get my “Ah-Ha” moment eventually where I finally have an idea on how to further alternate the ‘original’ aspect more than just visually.

For now, just working on my characters and my story - bits and peices!

I definitely plan on doing a few cross over shenanigans featuring other popular AUs at some point purely for entertainment - silly comic things and doodles of some things I thought were really cool

[jennsmischievousmind]

Vhekadla

Vhekadla : Sandy 

Pairing: Mando x mirialan!reader 

Word count: 4.782

Warnings: Exile, reader not good with kids, mild swearing, slight angst, self-medication (needles (once)) 

Summary: Peli needs components for the failing vaporator in Hangar-2, you are meant to go the moisture farm to get them. But a renown bounty hunter lands in Hangar-3.  

A/N:  Some references to the OG trilogy and the following one. Can’t wait to see how many you find. Let me know. 

I tried not to use any gender for reader (I’m still learning about it) Text in italic = reader’s internal thoughts English is not my native language, I’m trying to get better at it, please be indulgent. 

It was fun to reconnect with the lovely Star Wars nerd in me. 

“A Mirialan would place a unique, often geometrically repeated tattoo on their face and hands to signify that they had completed a certain test or task, or achieved sufficient aptitude for a certain skill. The number of tattoos would thus often act as a good indicator of how mature and/or skilled a Mirialan was.”

You heard Peli calling out from the hangar, jumping down the reactor you were working on, you step on hangar 3′s threshold. Glancing through your fingers’ shielding the sun, as the pre-Imp beat up vessel lands in Hangar 3. You rolled down your sleeves as Peli look back at you.

“He doesn’t really like droids, so you’ll have to step-in.” stopping next to her you nodded, readjusting your tool belt.

Working for Peli you thought you'd seen everything in terms of species. Until the vessel's ramp lower down with a hiss, a shiny Mandalorian walking out.

Your eyes went to Peli and the approaching bounty hunter as she made her way to him grinning, awaiting for him to give her something. The tall, beskar clad individual gave a small green creature to Peli whom started to coo at it. Weird.

“Glad you decided to keep him.” She waved a finger your way giving you the go-to.

Treading to the gunship, the T shape visor of the Mandalorian followed your form, you didn’t pay much attention to it, hunters could be precious about their engines.

Plugging your datapad in the cargo bay panel you ran a quick diagnostic, looking around the ship while waiting, the hull was oddly neat you noted. The Datapad biped loudly, detailing the ships problems. This old thing was still flying, how, who knew.

“What’s with the Mirialan?"

“What can I tell? I’m going soft! Coz of your womp rat for sure.” He said nothing waiting for her to continue

“They needed the job, no questions ask. But don’t ask about the tattoos, they can be moody,”

“I heard that,” you strolled down the left telescopic gate, heading for the front repulsorlfits.

Why were they talking about you? Do they know each other much? Why a bounty hunter was carrying a child-like thing.

Stepping into the cockpit, you refrained on sitting on the pilot seat, you always felt that pilot seats were as intimate as beds. The Datapad ran a new diag, you eye the control panel, tilting your head seeing something was missing.

The Mandalorian stood tall before Peli “I have things to do!”

Peli waved him off “Yeaah go hunt, we’ll fix your ship in the meantime,”

After a few hours, drenched in sweat and sticky black goo on your hands you finally ease yourself in the cockpit “That should be good, punch it!” you yelled to the 3 pit-droids outside. After hearing the droids tripped on each other, they activated the engine, launching the hyperdrive for a last test.

The Mandalorian made his way back in the hangar just in time to see you hopping down the cargo ladder, sweeping your greasy hands on your overalls.

He couldn’t help but noticed the tattoos showing at your wrists as your sleeves had rolled up.

“This is not going to be a recurrent thing.” You heard the Mandalorian say, clearly annoyed. Approaching them, you could feel the Mandalorian was tense, Peli took the datapad you handed her, you tried your best no to stare at the broad shoulders at your right.

Finally noticing him, and his T-visor staring at your wrists, you swiftly turned around and brushed the sleeves back down; “She’s up to fly. The hyperdrive is as brain new, we made a few check-ups on the engines since they were coughing a bit,” you rounded a crate, looking back at him, your sleeves now attached to your fingers, “and the lights are back on!” you index pointed to the lamp on the ceiling.

_

“You’ll want a price cut, as I can see here,”

You glanced at the visor for a second, what did Peli ask him to do? “Fine,” he sighed.

“Go to the moisture farm and get my parts,” she patted at his pauldron, “you’ll be his guide.“ you were so engrossed in Peli’s friendliness with the bounty huinter that it didn’t click immediatly. Until it did. 

“Hold on, what?” voice rising a notch “I told you I’d go,.. alone!” you argued

“With all the recent things happening in this forsaken desert, I’d rather not send you alone.”

Stepping closer to Peli, your back to the Mandalorian, you stared at her, she stared back, not having it. She knew you could take down a Gamorrean if needed.

“Boss, …”

“For Force’s sake don’t argue with me,” She shooed you away, you knew she wouldn’t let go.

“You still have that speeder bike?” his modulated voice rang in your back as you made your way to the fresher to clean yourself up.

Peli snarled  “I’m gonna start renting it.” 

                                               **

Waiting near the speeder bike, Peli handed you the credits to pay for the binary brain unit and humidity sensor, she needed it for the vaporator in H-2. The moisture farm you were heading to had the parts since they owned the same vaporators.

“You can trust him,” she nudged her jaw to the approaching Mandalorian.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” 

“He’s like family, call him Mando,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. Peli wouldn’t leave the city walls since the Empire fell, so obviously it became your task to get the parts or hardware from out of the walls. Before that she’d lost a few droids in the desert. 

The Mandalorian rounded the speeder, securing a bag on the right side, a green little head popped out of it.

“I don’t think ‘it’ should come, if we encounter any bandits or raiders.”

The thing looked at the his keeper “Don’t worry about that, he’s seen worse.”

You turned to Peli, eyes widenned and flailing hands. She shrugged her famous grin on. Head lolling back and squeezing your eyes shut you let out a sigh then swiveled to him. “I drive, you shoot?” you ask adjusting your scarf around your mouth and nose.

“What?” he genuinely asked. Shaking your head amused you nod your head to the main seat for him to take. It'll be easier to hold him than him hold you.

Straddling the speeder you felt tiny behind him, the beskar was cold even under the twins suns, a gurgle took your attention off the reflecting beskar in front of you. Wrinkled critter.

Keeping a grip on Mando’s side you check the Holo map as the speeder bike hovered at its fastest speed. Gesturing at Mando to indicate the path, the moisture farm would be visible in a few visvia. A glare caught your eye a second too late, you flew from the speeder, crashing hard against the burning sand. Between your grunts and those of the Mandalorian you heard Tusken Raiders' howls.

Groaning you hold your ribs rolling on your good side “Freaking dehydrated Raiders!” The little green being was confused a meter from you, sadly sat on the sand. “Mando, your .. kid,” his broad shadow came into view, soon scooping the child.

Finger at the trigger you look up at the cliffs “Thought you were friends with them!” 

The Mandalorian was trying to salvage the speeder bike while you looked at the map for a safer and faster path, still eyeing the cliffs now and then. “Don’t bother, engine’s burnt.” Greeny made a worried sound.  

“The tuskens, they are the shoot first, ask question later kind of people,” he posted himself on your right, you glanced at him stealthily. Even without seeing his face, his demeanour showed he was pissed off.

“You both have something in common,” you sheath your blaster in the small of the back holster.

“What?” you sensed it took it the wrong way, so quickly clarified “Showing skin is not allowed,”

“Just as your not allowed to show your tattoos!” he riled back.

Your head jerked back, you were not expecting the backlash. You stalked past him, “We should go, the farm ain’t far!” putting as much distance between you and the bounty hunter. 

The Mandalorian regretted his words as soon as they came out. He surely was the last one to have a say about others’ customs and beliefs. Your behavior somehow disarmed him, he didn't know how to act anymore.

                                            **

The suns were getting low in your back, you thank the maker your body was acclimated for dry lands. The hair at your nape rose in a instant, you looked back at the horizon standstill for a few seconds.

"We must take shelter," you whispered. The green critter tilted his head to you followed by his Mandalorian whom picked up your words through his enhanced helmet.

"Sandstorm!" you ran past him, heading for the rocks ahead.

Pulling your large scarf around your face, the Mandalorian was hot on your tail, you realized you wouldn’t like to be one of his bounty, his impressive broadness and the heavy beskar made you shivered. Sliding between two big rocks, you fumbled with your water jug, quickly wetting your scarf around your mouth. The Mandalorian soon joined you with a distorted groan, the baby oddly excitied about the run out was babbling.

"Here," you wet a rag you kept in your rucksack handing it to to him. "It’ll need it," taking the rag from your hand he gently folded it and wrapped the child’s mouth and pointy ears. A gust of hard wind and sand hit the rocks, the light disappearing instantly you found yourself enveloped in a dusty copper shadow. Clenching your eyes shut, your hands immediately went to the child's eyes. You felt his little hands holding onto yours. It’s not a game you thought. The sand was hard on the few uncovered patches of skin on your face, but it soon stopped. You could still hear the wind, the sand rattling the rocks but you couldn't feel it anymore. Opening your eyes carefully, your head jerked back. Beskar. The T visor of his helmet was staring at you. Looking up you saw his arm holding his cape around you three. Your hand unconsciously slowly slipped from the child's eyes. Your reflection was staring at you with wide eyes, its closeness made you uneasy yet not unwelcomed, as the kid was still holding your fingers, this one whined.

“It won’t take long,” Mando spoke, his head dropping to the green child. Adverting your eyes from his visor you scolded yourself, and your increasing heartbeat. 

His eyes were trained on your geometrical tattoos adorning your delicate face, he didn’t expect to lost himself in your eyes as you opened them. His gut twisted when you moved back with a start.

Few minutes later you were dusting sands from your hair and clothes “We should be at the farm in a bit,”

He nodded "I hope they have a speeder to lend us there,”

That yes, coz I won't make it back by walking. I'm no bantha

Both of you let out a relieved sigh when the farm appeared in the horizon. Bhindi Kayle welcomed you in the abode, the farm was practically empty, all the workers were home or in town, only an old man sat at the far end of a bench. Bhindi Kayle was an old aquaintance of Peli, he cut you off as soon as you started talking, he stood before you oddly trying to assert a sort of dominance, he’d never been like that. 

 "Yeah Peli send us a hologram earlier this week,” Mando's chest heaved as soon as the farmer interrupted you. “Didn't expect a Mandalorian to work for her,"

Aaah, a men’s ego.

The kid babbled a confused note, "I'm not working for Motto," Mando stated, galled.

"The Mandalorian is ... here for protection, somehow." The child looked at you from the satchel on Mando's hip. 

The old man rumbled from the corner, "A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a ... whatever that is ... roaming around Tatooine, what a sight." 

"Ah don't listen to him, he lost his mind since the Lars’ farm got burned down,” Bhindi leaned in whispering ”inhaled too much smoke while trying to raid the place."

Negotiating the parts’ price was not in the deal but knowing Peli wasn’t here, Bhindi tried. Yeah tried, not for nothing Peli Motto took you in, you were as stubborn as a falumpaset, gosh you missed Naboo.

"Do you have a speeder?” Mando asked his tone becoming a bit hesitant “Ours ... blown off on the way," your refrained a smirk.

 "Well, we have swoops but you'll be back to Peli in days at that speed." You followed him through the pit to the garage. Eyes skimming the messy place, looked like a junkyard, the green kid was touching everything, you lose your footing on a piece of scrap while looking at it, firm gloved hands propped you up by the shoulders without a word. Embarrassment filed you as Mando’s hands left your shoulders with hesitation.

"Are those... pieces of a Bantha-II cargo skiff?" You stepped onto the old railing, trying to distract yourself from the burning feel of his touch. "Where did you get that?"

 "That old rusty thing? We found it a few years back. The Hutts might have abandoned it, thankfully for us the Jawas were late on this one." Bhindi rummaged through a bunch of metal "We keep some engines we found for the parts, just in case. Ah!"

He proudly showed his finding. You heard the Mandalorian groaned behind you.

"Might be cramp on it with the two of you, but it can do."

Mando was not amused "A skimboard?" his hands reached his hips, he stood there staring at Bhindi. Stepping down the railing, a light smile spread on your lips. 

"I'm good with it," you grabbed the board "you fly, I use the skimboard," his bucket head turned to you, the heavy silence coming from the Beskar clad man had Bhindi lose his tough demeanour, but had you amused.

"Hum, I can probably find an old speeder bike," The Mandalorian nodded at the farmer. 

Inspecting the slick metal, your hand dusted off the sand of off it "How much for it?"

"25 alliance credits will do," he shrugged.  "Deal," Bhindi hurried away in the back of the garage.

“I’ll be back in a minute,”stepping out the junkyard, you head for the hydroponic garden. 

The sand had crawled under your layers, it soon became itchy and abrasive. Stripping down your top layers, you stayed in your dark undershirt. Vigorously dusting off your copper colored top and black hood, the dusts particles shining under the sun rays. Cupping water in your hands, your let the fresh water ran down your tattooed arms. Cold water on your face never felt so good, even after hours working on a spaceship it wasn’t as satisfying.

“Khayle found us a landspeeder” you gasped at his voice, holding your arms around you and turning your back to him; Mando became even more silent than usual. The tattoos on your arms and body were not to be seen by everyone, it wasn’t as strict as Mandalorian’s creed or the Tuskens but still, you were meant to choose the few who would see them. The one on your face were your achievement, your proudness, you could show them. But those on your body were more personal, promises to your species, and to yourself. Since the farm was empty you thought it would be safe to undress, apparently not.

Mando paused, he wasn’t expecting that, seeing the tattoos on your wrists earlier he thought that was it but seeing your inked arms and shoulders blades he felt pulled by curiosity but as soon as he saw you flinched and tried to hide your arms, he turned away. 

He walked out, not saying a word, thinking about what he said earlier. Peli did warn him. Feeling your rushed breathing haven out, and the thundering sound of your bloodstream into your ears fading you reached for your copper long sleeve top. As you tried to snatch it you felt a resistance, the child, coming to you his little claws up to touch your arms. Big dark eyes staring at you, oddly similar to the dark visor of his keeper. Feeling that pull deep inside, you frowned putting your hood on and grabbing the child, holding it bunglingly, he kept looking at you.

“You forgot something.” You gently shoved him the child, then rounded the landspeeder.

Bhindi casually leaned on the abode “You should stay for the night, Raiders thrive at night.”

Mando watched you sit at the driver’s seat, your hood hiding your expression. “We’ll be fine,” he answered not sparing a glance at Bhindi. The child fell asleep an hour after leaving the moisture farm that’s when Mando decided to talk. 

“If I’d known ...” you stayed silent “Did I endanger your faith or beliefs?” he asked seriously concerned.

“Mirialans, we …” you scoffed “I’ll be fine.”

Something in his tone changed “I’m sorry, it wasn’t done on purpose.” The child’s ears settled down in a snore; it was as he was feeling his keeper’s trouble even through his sleep.

“Something happened, when I was not even an idea.” you felt compelled to tell the story behind the tattoos since he saw most of them. “My ancestor was part of the Senate, she believed in a way of life, now long forgotten. She fought for it but soon realized it was wrong, she was never meant to fight, she was meant to keep the peace. Her loyalty faded, she did bad things ... I’m bond to her in some ways I can’t explain.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent, you were used to it at this point. 

“The old Galactic Senate banished her. No one remembers Bariss Offee now, she's been long gone. But I do.”

“The old Galactic Senate...” Mando clenched his fist “I heard about it,”

“Some of my tattoos are meant to heal her soul through me. After her fall, my family scattered, we were forbidden to talk about her, we were forced to strip ourselves from our knowledge. I was young, my parents flew us to another galaxy, there we live like humans. But my parents kept one of our custom, the tattoos.” you shrugged, even Peli didn’t know about all this, she knew about your exile but that’s all.

“I…I don’t know if I can say this and my apologize if it’s misplaced but you .. uhm” Mando asked himself why he was so stressed about telling you his honest feel about it “..they are ..pretty,” the repulsorlift the only sound perceptible. That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting, especially coming from the renown bounty hunter, eyes leaving the road you stared at him confused but somehow relieved, your hood flew back reveling your face to him.

 A tuskens battle cry made you break, standing up on your seat, immediately reaching for your blaster and glowrod. 

“Hold on,” he posed the sleeping child on your seat, getting down.

“Mando, they shoot us once, I’m not taking any chance,”

“I’ll talk to them,” he stated calmly “lower your blaster and stay close,”

You inhaled loudly, putting away your weapon. Emerging from the dark, tall figures soon surrounded you. The deep grunt coming out the helmet at your side startled you, his gestures and groans had the attention of the faceless Raiders. The silence on their part didn’t do much to ease your worry until they answered, though you couldn’t understand, the stance of your companion made you feel safe.

“They’re saying we should camp out, another tribe, the one who shot us is ahead of us,”

“Camp out, with them?” you whispered as if they could understand you “I heard things about them,”

“Not everything you hear is true,” Mando’s visor was trained on your hesitating features. Well you didn’t have much of a choice, you weren’t going to leave without him and the green thing.

“You take the first watch,” you gathered your backpack, he nodded at you, preceding you.

The kid now awaken, was nestled between his keeper’s feet, staring at the fire in front of him. It might have felt you staring because his little ears perked up and he soon waddled to you. The kid kept trying to hold you or touch your hand.

"Is it always like that? Clingy?" You poked the child’s forehead making him wobble back.

Mando tilted his head with a sigh, silently asking if your gesture was really necessary.

"Not really," He reached for the child but this latter whined, settling when he grabbed your index’ first phalanx.

"You were saying!?" You sighed as the kid looks like he was concentrating on your finger. As he kept doing that you felt that pull again, deep inside of you, an inner energy you usually only could feel during your ancestor’s vision. It scared you, snatching your finger from the kid, you look at the big eyes now staring at you. "What are you!"

“Easy,” Mando ushered the kid back to him “He has powers, I should have warned you,”

“What kind of power?”

“He can move things with his mind or something similar” your mind processed the news, “I’ve been quested to bring him back to his kind,"

The child climbed your feet to get closer, your lips turned down in an uneasy grimace, you weren't exactly gifted with children, if it was one though. Clingy beings, loud and stinky, not your thing.

The Mandalorian kept an eye on you without your knowledge, he'd never seen anyone be so hesitant with the child before.

Mando talked with the Tuskens while you ate, he sometimes translated for you in case you were interested in their conversation.

....

"You are missing a piece on the turbines’ launch lever by the way, want another one!?" You asked him sleepily, "That won't be necessary," he chuckled and it caught you off guard but you said nothing.

A young tusken handed you a fur cloth, hesitantly grabbing it you eyed Mando, he made a gesture to the raider. 

"I take the first watch," even with his vocoder you could hear the grin.

Waking up in a sweat you observed your surroundings. A bantha was snoring loudly next to a pack of sleeping tuskens. A soft snore not far from you got your attention. The child was tucked on Mando's side, his ears heaving with his breaths.

The fire reflecting on the beskar mesmerized you, it was like Mando's was made of fire. Was he sleeping? 

“You’re okay?”

“My ribs hurts, I’m cold, but I’m managing.” you stood up, stepping closer to the fire. “Take some rest, it’s my shift.” 

“Here,” you turned around just in time to caught the e-bacta shot, Mando closed his belt pocket and crossed his arms, leaning on a rucksack, ready to rest.  

“Thanks..” you stared at his calm composure, forgetting he could still be looking at you behind that visor. 

Your gaze on him got him agitated, he tried his best to rest his eyes but he couldn’t detached his from yours, somehow you always manage to made eye-contact, most people didn’t even dare look straight at him. He stayed alert as you went to the land speeder, lifting your top enough to reach your bruised flank, he saw you brace yourself for the shot. 

1,2 “Hmmm!!!” you muffled your groan in your elbow as the three needles deeped in your flesh, youknew that in a few minutes you’ll be alright but maker it hurt. 

The suns getting up, you were seated on the land speeder’s hood watching the twins made their entry, I’ll never get tired of this. 

“We’re good to go, the other tribe moved north,” Mando set the child on the hood next to you to thanks the Tuskens. 

The child lifted his head to you, silently staring, suddenly rushing to you head bumping your hip “ "Oof!” he angrily cuddled your side “Mando, what’s going on with it?” 

“Hey, hey kid, no!” he cradled him into his arms “what did you do?”

“Nothing!” you jumped down the hood “It slammed into me,”

“He never acts like that, there’s something with you,” Mando stated

“Oh maker come on Mando,” your voice tightened “I’m a nobody, an exile mirialan, I’m no Jedi like my ancestor!” you realised as soon as you said it, screwing your eyes shut. 

“Your ancestor was a Jedi?”he stepped forward, his demeanour now threatening but you stood your ground. “And you’re telling me now?”

“Mando I, ... I’m not sure about it, I don’t even understand the visions I have, that’s why I didn’t say anything.” 

“We should go!” he shut himself, the child whined against his keeper’s chest. 

The ride back to Peli was excruciating, Mando didn’t talk to you or ease the kid’s fuss. The three of you made it back to Peli without issues. 

She was about to make one of her famous punchline but she saw your concerned face as you passed by her deposing the vaporator’s pieces on her desk. 

Peli planted herself before him “What did you do?” he sighed.

Mando watched as the door hiss closed behind you. 

“How much do you know about them?” 

“What’d you do!?” Peli insisted before answering his question. As stubborn as you he thought. He related the conversation, he’d never seen Peli so mad.

The soft knock on your door told you it wasn't Peli. It opened on your command.

“We need to talk,” Mando stepped-in

“Oh now you want to talk!” you threw a wrench in your tool box “We had a full ride for that.” 

“You lied to me!” he pointed his finger to the ground 

“I didn’t LIE to you! I just ..didn’t tell you all of it. Jedis and Mandalorians are not exactly friends for all I know,”

“The child might be a Jedi and you didn’t care to tell me you knew about he’s people.” the tiny bedroom was crowded with his presence, deep inside behind the anger lied a fluttering feeling when he entered your space.

“My ancestor had that kind of power, but I don’t know shit about it, I told you if you were to even listen!” tears at the brim at your eyes remembering your parents’ tale about their exile, you inhaled trying to stay focused.

“I’ve listened,” he regained his neutral tone “if you are like your ancestor then maybe you have that power in you, that’s why the child is reaching out to you, he might feel it,” 

you scoffed “I’m a mecha not a Jedi,” the child made you jumped when he touched your hand, he had climbed the comforter hanging from your cot.

“Mando, I’d … never mean to hide things from you, I’m just..scared.” You let the child hold your finger “An unknown powerful energy in me, how would you react! Even if I’d want to know, I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded leaving your cramped bedroom with the child. Few minutes later Peli called out, sighing you drag your feet to her desk.

“What is it that you want Motto?” you taunted but the teasing voice died seeing Mando on the other side of her seat. 

“I’ve been quested to bring him to the jedi.” his visor on you, knitted your brows you wait for his speech. “I could use a mecha on board, one that needs answer of some sorts,” his grave voice resonated in your ears, he faced Peli while saying it. She sighed knowingly; her face torned with doubts.

“I can’t, Peli you need me and I ..” 

“Kid, I’ve seen you distraught after your visions, it’s getting worse,” Peli sighed “Well, I’m not saying losing my best mecha is ideal,” you tried your best to keep the feelings at bay  “…but go if you have to, I’ll managed” she patted you shoulder, herself containing her sniffles.

“Take care of this piece of junk,” she snorted making you laugh.

“I’ll come back,”

“Don’t you dare, you're young, get out of this desolate place. Go get the galaxy,”

Smiling at her you hugged her tight “Oh come on, come on” she shooed you away, striding to your room to pack, you didn’t see her made eyed contact with Mando’s visor, a silent plead to keep you safe, he nodded. 

Stepping in the cockpit, you sat on the passenger seat at his right. The green being was on your right eyeing you, you suprised yourself smiling at him. Mando came in and the kid starts to shift in his pod, you watched Mando as he took something on the control panel and swivelled to the baby. Thlatter reached out, his keeper letting a shiny metal ball fall into his little claw.

“That’s…” you said out loud. Your eyes darted to the turbines launcher’s lever. Mando finally turned to you and shrugged tilting his helmet.

“A mirialan, a Mandalorian and a Jedi ... what a sight.” 

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Real Story Behind The Babadook (2014), And 17 Weirdest Bogeymen From Around The World That Might Be Hiding Under Your Bed Right Now

Strange times we live in.

It’s a Saturday night, and I’m hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat, when really, if there was no global pandemic, I’d be hauled up at home eating a vegetarian lasagne whilst my mother asks me for the 37th time why I’ve decided to give up meat.

It really is a strange time we live in.

But, in my attempt to protect the vulnerable groups in society and halt the spread of the latest Twitter hashtag in its tracks, I decided to catch up on the horror films hadn’t found the time to press play on just yet.

So, a bucket of popcorn and some mild trauma later, I could finally join in the conversation about The Babadook.

6 years too late.

Nevertheless! Once I’d emotionally recovered, I finally had my Sex And The City moment. No, not the ones with feminism that would make Emilline Pankhurst perform the equivalent of a Viennese Waltz in her grave - the one where Carrie sits in her NYC apartment and thinks about men at her computer.

“I couldn’t help but wonder: could the Babadook be based on a true story? ”

Unfortunately, I discovered that the Babadook is based on the concept of the boogeyman, an urban legend that has a greater global reach than Covid-19. 

So, to distract you from the global pandemic with the threat of a creature lurking under your bed and waiting to snatch an ankle, I thought I’d let you in on the reality behind this queer icon.

First, let’s talk ‘bout The Babadook.

It was one of the biggest hits of the 2010s, combining the classic trope of creepy children with the classic colour palette of depression. Our story follows a single mother and her son who begins to be visited by an imaginary creature fresh from the pages of a children’s book.

With spiky talon-like hands, a cloaked figure, a jaw crammed full of teeth, a face paler than that time you bought that foundation on a whim in TK Maxx - all crowned with a dusty hat - the Babadook the child was seeing certainly had a sense of style.

The child, Sam, begins to create intricate traps and weapons designed to stop the Babadook, all the while the book predicts the mother’s rather dark future. It becomes clear that the Bababook is preying on the mother and essentially possessing her, a diagnosis that is confirmed when the mother attempts to kill Sam.

She then regurgitates a black inky substance evocative of ectoplasm, and is released from its grip. 

The film ends on the happy family feeding the Babadook as it lives in their basement.

This indie horror - once it had finished polishing the 5 awards on it’s mantelpiece - might have woven a intricate plot deviating from the simple basis of international man of mystery James Bond The Boogeyman, but the basis still sticks out more than that wardrobe in the corner of your bedroom you’re now highly conscious of.

Simply put, the Babadook matches the basic concept of the boogeyman:

There’s some weird, dark creature that knicks kids and eats ‘em if they wander alone or don’t go to bed or misbehave. Just like Krampus, the bogeyman is a legend propagated by parents to convince kids to stay in line.

That being said, the mythical creature isn’t the only inspo behind this cinema-hit.

Specifically, the brains behind the film, Jennifer Kent, claimed it was about a deep-rooted fear we all have: that of going mad. On top of this, it seeks to show parenting from a real perspective.

The film focuses on a single mother as she faces one of the most difficult challenges in life: she loses her husband whilst going to give birth to her son, and then has to raise him alone. But that is not all.

Kent also spoke of a real encounter with the bogeyman. 

Basics, her bestie’s son was being plagued by an imaginary monster, so she pretended to talk to it to calm his concerns. Sure, this tale might not have kickstarted the real terror engaged with in this movie, but it invited us into the reality behind the bogeyman.

But beyond this, the movie also detracts from the Babadook, and instead looks for the primal instincts in the mother - it looks for the bogeyman within us all.

That’s right - the real horror that was inside us all along.

Yawn.

But the thing is, it also brings up hell of a lot of paranormal activity that is remarkably accurate to theories of the supernatural.

      Let’s start with the introduction of the Babadook.

He arrives in the form of a creepy children’s book no one’s seen or heard of. Armed with a chilling nursery rhyme and an aesthetic last seen in 2007, the Babadook follows the basic principles of a basic haunting: ghost does spooky stuff, ghost spooks humans, humans invite it in following the consent laws of the universe by interacting with it, ghost spooky powers intensify.

This begins with the book itself. Although the film doesn’t consider if he is a paranormal being aligning with the concept of demons and spirits (etc.), this book follows the concept of haunted objects.

By opening the book and reading it - or, interacting with it - they invite in the Babadook. And when she tries to destroy it, it crops up again, fully intact and conveniently lying on her doorstep.

No ‘sorry we missed you card’ needed.

This closely follows the theory of the haunted object, something more on-trend than tutting at empty shelves in the grocery store. Haunted objects have a habit of failing to be destroyed, and by engaging with them, such as not asking permission for taking a picture of a haunted doll, you enter communication with them.

From there, you’ve basically consented to a full possession. The object is a vessel for a spirit or a demon until a new, better, breathing vessel can be found.

You can find out more about this here.

I can’t find anything about haunted books specifically online, but as a variety of haunted objects exist, from bunk beds to boxes, I’m sure there’s potential for it.

     Next is the eventual possession of the mother.

One of the most dramatic moments we witness is when the mother coughs up this black bile which represents the removal of the Babadook. This bears a striking resemblance to ectoplasm, a white liquid often released by those experiencing intense paranormal activity.

When mediums experience a trance-like state, they supposedly release a fabric-like or thick substance that darkens as physic energy is intensified. It allows those in the supernatural realm to interact with the physical realm, and for spirits to represent themselves to the audience of a seance.

This film was one of the first to explore the potential paranormal explanations behind the bogeyman, and give some basis to a beast that has haunted communities since the beginning of time.

Speaking of the beast…

Who is the bogeyman?

It’s sometime in the 1500s.

We are in the middle of a small country called England, struggling to make ends meet between the near constant famine, the anxiety of being cursed by a witch, or some war with [insert european nation that may or may not exist anymore].

Either way, when we aren’t trying to spell everything with an ‘e’ at the end, we are being taunted by hobgoblins.

These pesky beasts made their name in tormenting Englishmen, playing pranks on them or simply just being foul.

Hobgoblins are the OG bogeymen, or are the first we can trace back to recorded sources. But they were no means the last. And they were by no means the only ones in the world.

As a simple definition, the bogeyman is a mythical creature that makes sure kids are staying in line, and was made up by parents. The thing is, the bogeyman features in every culture that has ever been created.

And given the realm of the paranormal explored so far on this blog, perhaps your local Babadook isn’t so out of the question.

The bogeyman has always claimed a rather vague existence, representing a non-specific terror that has even extended to just ‘being the devil’ in some cases. The origins of the name are no different: ‘bogge’ comes from middle english, meaning ‘something frightening’ or ‘scarecrow’.

It has even been interpreted to mean ‘goat’ which can be traced to relations to the devil.

Appearance wise, the bogeyman has several broad features that stretch across cultures. Standard features include sharp teeth, talon or claw-like hands, hooves for feet, and even bug-like features. The Babadook might have shared in a few of these #basic-bogeyman traits, but it’s not all about looks.

How does his personality fair?

The bogeyman can pick between three personality types: something that punishes misbehaving children; one that is just violent for the hell of it which includes stealing kids, and eating them and/or taking them back to hell; or one that protects the innocent.

“So what you’re saying is, this is a vague looking creature with a vague personality with vague ambitions that is made up by parents who are tired of their kids interrupting their vague post-marital sex?”

Okay, fine, the bogeyman bears little resemblance to the basic concept of the bogeyman. But this is what makes him the international man of mystery. It’s the regional divergences between each nation’s own Babadook that makes this creature quite so peculiar.

You see, I assumed the bogeyman would be a universal concept draped in more black clothes than a kid that was in the throes of that scene where Edward leaves Bella. 

Turns out that there’s actually a band of bogeymen which can be specified by their not-so-casual racism and genitalia.

But as the 195 countries dotted across the globe have fostered their own child-eating monster, I thought I’d cut to the chase and fill you in on the world’s weirdest bogeymen.

*Rolls up sleeves of Team Edward hoodie*

     The Sack Man

Making his cinematic debut in The Nightmare Before Christmas, the Sack Man is the international symbol for the bogeyman. Whether he himself is draped in sack-like materials, or is lugging one around with him, Hombre Del Saco uses his luggage to capture and carry naughty children away to, uh, somewhere.

Most popular in Latin countries and Eastern Europe, the Sack Man is the most well travelled bogeyman on this list.

     Babaroga

The original inspiration behind the Babadook - note the similar name - Babaroga is a resident of Serbia and its neighbouring countries. However, the mood board for the Babadook’s inspiration stopped there.

Babaroga literally translates to “old woman with horns”.

And this pensioner spends her time finding children, putting them in a sack (how original), bringing them to her cave, and eating them. Or, to shake things up, she pulls childrens through small holes in the ceiling.

     El Coco

When he’s not featuring in lovable Disney hits, El Coco is snatching kids that don’t get to sleep when they should. With nursery rhymes detailing the legend - a chilling similarity to the Babadook - spanish-language countries across the globe are versed in reportedly seeing a coconut-like face hiding under their beds.

With a brown hairy face and body, and glowing red eyes to match, this famous humanoid might be closer than you think.

“Que viene el Coco y te comerá” 

 - A line from the traditional Spanish nursery rhyme.

     The Mamma

Pakistan gets its fair share of attention on the news cycle, but aside from the war going on, no one has ever noted the rather peculiar beast haunting the nation’s young women.

The Mamma isn’t the mothering being the name suggests, but is a large ape that lives in the mountains and only comes to the civilised world when in need of a young girl. Once he’s kidnapped ‘em and taken ‘em back to his cave, he licks their hands and feet so they can’t escape.

I have a strong feeling that what happens next to these innocent women isn’t as silly as someone licking your feet.

     La Tulievieja

Bringing together the award-winning aesthetic of The Ring and the naseau-inducing aesthetic of Cats, La Tulievieja is Panama’s warning for naughty children. Legend has it she is a spirit cursed by God for drowning her child.

The thing is, God’s curse was, uh, confused. Her monstrous form consists of acne scarring, long hair, claws for hands, a cat’s body and a farmyard animal’s hooved feet. On top of that, she also looks like the child she drowned.

Yep, confused.

     The Jersey Devil

Most countries suffer from multiple bogeymen - here in the UK, for example, we have 12 varieties - and America is no different. The Jersey Devil is actually one of 4 variants, and, like La Tulievieja, is also confused.

Fresh from the jaws of New Jersey, this beast has a horse’s head, bat wings, hooves, and a snake’s tail. First spotted in the 18th century and then again in 1909, it is believed that this legend was actually manufactured as a real estate hoax to coax residents into lowering their selling prices.

You might be able to deny the existence of this beast, but the Cipelahq (a large owl), the Long Black Being that makes a habit of slithering round like a snake, and Bloody Bones (a dancing skeleton and a separate skull) have yet to be disproven.

     The Copperpenis Owl

Hungary has 3 different bogeyman, and most fit the description of the international beast: there’s one with a sack, there’s one which is just a-bit-beasty, and then there’s the giant owl with a penis made of copper.

I personally feel a Babadook with rose gold genitalia circa 2013 might have detracted from the overall feel of the film.

     Ijiraq and the Qalupalik

Iniut communities also follow beliefs in the bogeyman, and probably focus on them more than others because if you wander off in the Arctic you will either get mauled by a bear and die, or freeze.

And then you’ll die.

They actually have 2 resident bogeymen. There’s the Ijiraq, a shapeshifter that kidnaps kids. You know, pretty basic bitch stuff. And then there’s the Qalupalik who is slightly more spooky.

This is a mermaid laden with green skin, long fingernails, and ratty hair that carry babies away in amauti (pouches or sacks for carrying kids) and bring them to live in their underwater world.

     Butzemann

Remember when I mentioned that thing about casual racism? It’s a bit of grey area, ironically.

Germany’s very own bogeyman is known as The Black Man.

(You can see my point.)

That being said, this probably doesn’t actually refer to the colour of his skin as most Germans during the Middle Ages hadn’t actually seen anyone from the African continent. Instead, his outdated nickname was actually down to his preference for dark corners.

The closet, under the bed, in forests during the early hours... If it’s spooky, you’ll find him here.

     Babau

Germany isn’t the only country with politically incorrect bogeyman. Italy has its very own Black Man, a mysterious figure which often features as a black man (gasp) or a black ghost. Only this entity has no legs.

The Marabbecca on the other hand is specific to Sicily, and mirrors the mythology of the Inuits.

Don’t play too close to the water, kids, or a Marabbecca will swim up and drag you to your watery grave!

     The Kropeman

Our final iconic bogeyman isn’t like the other girls, even if his fellow Luxembourgian monsters are. There’s yet another Black Man, and there’s something about an uncle, but it's the Kropeman which has me sleeping with the lights on.

Under the streets of this small country roams a man with a long hook.

When he’s not busy dodging rats in the sewers, he’s grabbing kids by their nose via the hook, and dragging ‘em down into the storm drains.

So - which one is hiding in your closet?

(Aside from the queerness your inner 14 year old hasn’t fully unleashed yet like a big bisexual dragon spewing flames of gender-neutralness.)

(Don’t worry, I’m fine.)

Are you a whore for horror? Passionate about the paranormal? Do you want to see a new real ghost story every day? Then you have to follow this blog.

Read this post next!

[imaginative-spirit]

hii! i found your twitter acc when i was searching for sefikura meta/analysis, and i found your tweet! i wanted to ask if you know some blog posts (or any posts) of their relationship analysis, as i am quite new to the whole ffvii series and i am intrigued by their relationship. i wanted to ask through cc but i noticed you dont have curiouscat so i’m asking through tumblr, sorry ;;

I didn’t mean to put all of this under a readmore but tumblr is being an ass so that’s what we’re doing now, I guess...

Hello!! Unfortunately I can’t really come up with anything on the spot, because despite seeing posts like that around before, I’m very unorganized and bad at keeping track of posts... so I decided to write you one on the spot instead, lmao!! I’ve been planning to write a more coherent, longer analysis for a while but still haven’t gotten around to it, but I’ll share some of my condensed thoughts here. The sefikura relationship is what intrigues me most about FFVII after all, and I usually yell quite a lot about them on twitter!

You say you’re new to FFVII, which means that I should definitely give a spoiler warning here. I’m going to address spoilery stuff from the OG, Remake and also some of the compilation material, because it’s hard to talk about their relationship without doing so. (I’ll also assume you’re familiar enough with the world of FFVII to know what I mean when I talk about stuff like SOLDIER, Shinra, Jenova, the Lifestream and such... this would get too long if I explained all of that here, lol)

Okay, so. Cloud and Sephiroth are narrative foils, which means their stories and arcs parallel each other in many ways. The most central themes surrounding them are their loneliness, sadness and how they cope with trauma.

Sephiroth was most likely raised by Hojo in a Shinra lab, and if you know Hojo, you know that there’s no way Sephiroth was treated as anything but an experiment. He never knew his mother, and the only person he had any respect for - Professor Gast - vanished when he was young and this seems to have given him abandonment issues. Cloud, on the other hand, had a mother but not much else. He felt alienated by the other children growing up in Nibelheim and seems to have been generally disliked by the adults as well, due to them blaming him for the time Tifa got hurt. In other words, they were both very lonely as children.

Shinra sent Sephiroth to war when he was very young (people disagree quite a lot on how old Sephiroth actually is but it’s assumed that he was around 12), and as the years went by, Sephiroth became the poster child of SOLDIER. We know that Cloud grew to idolize Sephiroth for how strong and brave the media made him out to be (A.K.A. had a celebrity crush on him), and that was what inspired Cloud to leave town and try to join SOLDIER.

As we see in the prequel game Crisis Core, Sephiroth at this point is well-respected by his peers after his efforts in conquering Wutai. His two only friends are Genesis and Angeal, who are also SOLDIER 1st Class, but they end up leaving SOLDIER, which means Sephiroth gets left behind. Considering that he already had abandonment issues to begin with, being abandoned by his only friends must’ve hit hard. I’d say this sets the foundation for Sephiroth’s downward spiral. However, at this point, I would argue that Sephiroth is still a good person at heart, despite all the trauma he has endured. He persists, refusing to hunt down his deserter friends, and even begins a hesitant friendship with Zack, who was Angeal’s apprentice.

Cloud befriends Zack as well, but doesn’t make it into SOLDIER and instead remains in the ordinary Shinra infantry, which is a crushing loss for him because he can’t achieve his dream. It’s at this point I like to imagine that if Zack had introduced Sephiroth and Cloud to one another, things could’ve gone better. Sephiroth is older than Cloud and outranks him, but with how isolated Sephiroth has been for his entire life I think there’s potential for a meaningful friendship here. They’re both very lonely and neither of them is really a people-person, so I think they’d get along well once Cloud gets over his hero-worship and Sephiroth manages to open up a bit. I would say that sefikura, if Nibelheim didn’t happen, has the potential to be a healthy relationship.

But of course, that’s not how canon goes. The Nibelheim mission happens, Sephiroth finds out that he’s not human and finally snaps after years of mistreatment, burning the town to the ground. Cloud manages to kill Sephiroth, ends up spending several years as an experiment, gets injected with Jenova cells, goes into a coma, wakes up just in time to watch Zack die, and ends up so traumatized that he creates a false identity for himself as a former SOLDIER 1st Class.

We’ve now reached OG FFVII. At this point, Sephiroth, while technically dead and chilling in the Lifestream, uses Jenova as a vessel to move around and takes advantage of Cloud, using him as a puppet for his own gains. He constantly dehumanizes Cloud and generally doesn’t give a damn about him as a person, while Cloud resents Sephiroth but can’t resist his manipulations. In a lot of ways, I think Sephiroth projects his own trauma onto Cloud here, because if Sephiroth had to suffer as Shinra’s puppet for his entire life, then Cloud should suffer as Sephiroth’s puppet as well. As a victim of horrific abuse, Sephiroth has a lot of justified anger, but he takes it out on the wrong person entirely. It’s definitely a very unhealthy situation.

But of course, unlike Sephiroth, Cloud doesn’t let his trauma define him. He reaches his breaking point and falls apart completely, but he gets back up, because unlike Sephiroth, he has a support system of friends who stand by his side and work together with him to defeat Sephiroth at the end of the game. For most of his life, Cloud has been chasing Sephiroth. This is where he finally catches up and surpasses him.

And here, the tables turn. Cloud kills Sephiroth but that’s never stopped Sephiroth before. This is where Sephiroth first develops his Cloud-obsession. He fixates on Cloud so hard that his hatred keeps him from completely fading away into the Lifestream. Cloud is literally his lifeline. (Isn’t it romantic? lol) He returns in the sequel movie Advent Children, where he fights Cloud one-on-one and basically just taunts him for 10 minutes before Cloud kills him again.  It’s implied that Sephiroth can keep coming back as long as Cloud exists as well.

Canon beyond this has, for a long time, been unknown territory. There’s a sequel game called Dirge of Cerberus that the fandom at large pretends doesn’t exist because it’s... kinda weird to say the least, lol. And it doesn’t really have anything to do with sefikura anyway. People have written post-canon sefikura as something that continues to be toxic, but there’s also fic that offers redemption and forgiveness for Sephiroth, acknowledging that he was a victim too. It’s left very open-ended.

All of this basically explains how I see sefikura. They’re two people who were alike in many ways, who could have been friends before everything fell apart around them, if things had been different. But they never did meet, before it was too late. Instead, they keep chasing each other, full of hate even though they’re probably the only people in the world who could truly understand each other’s trauma. The only real difference is that Cloud had friends to back him up while Sephiroth was abandoned, and I really, truly wish they could get an opportunity to reach some sort of understanding. And that would basically be it...

...but then the Remake happened. Diving into speculation territory here. I firmly believe that the Sephiroth we see in the Remake is a time traveller, or is at least aware of the future to some degree, and that the remake is actually a sequel where Sephiroth is quite literally remaking OG ffvii. He’s completely obsessed with Cloud to a degree that he never was in the OG, and considering how loyal the developers stayed to the characterization of basically every other OG character this immediately stuck out to me like a sore thumb even though it took me until the end of the game to piece it together.

I’m not kidding here. Sephiroth is desperate for Cloud’s attention in the Remake. He's constantly trying to touch Cloud, everything he says to Cloud makes him sound like a pining ex-husband, and he generally doesn’t do anything to harm Cloud except scaring him shitless simply by showing up. He actually has quite a few moments when he’s very gentle with Cloud. At the end of the game he basically even proposes to Cloud by asking Cloud to join him and genuinely seems upset when Cloud rejects him. And even then, he claims he doesn’t want Cloud (nor himself) to die.

For the life of me, I can’t wrap my head around what Sephiroth’s goal is in the Remake and I have no idea what they’re planning to do with his character in future parts, but I’m very excited to find out. The sefikura content in the Remake was very delicious and at this point the only thing they could do to surpass it in the future would be to have them actually make out on screen, lmao.

I hope this is coherent enough to read, I basically just tried to condense everything I could into a neat little essay and there’s definitely things I didn’t mention here, lol. I’ll write a proper, more well-thought out analysis another time!

Also, if you want to ask me anything else or talk to me about sefikura in general, my DMs are always open, both here and on twitter ;D

[digitalgate02]

What is your thoughts on the first two episodes and opening of Digimon adventure 2020 or Digimon 2020 ?

It’s too early to opine, but i think these first two episodes were good. I agree with my friends who consider OG Adv very slow in the first episodes (compared to how things are sped up in 02) and honestly I only watch OG because of the characters.

I’m happy that everyone is way too much softer than the OG line, even Yamato is soft gdi! I think I’m getting attached to Taichi because he’s so much a happy puppy. AND KOUSHIRO?? SO. CUTE?? I CRY.

Also Hikari is there since day one with an important role (if you go with the scenes in the OP) which I hope will give her justice. Takeru is intriguing me as well, since the profiles. A friend theorized he is Homeostasis’ vessel this time and maybe MAYBE it will be a thing...?

Anyway, them trying to modernize this series is going well. The first two episodes -- probably 3rd too -- are a complete modern version of Our War Game, and it was so super duper obvious because the title is “WAR GAME” and yet I’ve seen a lot of complaints. Also Omegamon appearing right now reminds me when Shoutmon X3 appeared incomplete in the very first ep, as foreshadowing.

Anyway, I’m excited for the future episodes!!