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spoonie-ritsu · 7 years ago

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yall know i cant resist

another bloodborne au fic thing featuring everyone’s favorite telepath based on details from this lovely lil thing

They came for him in the night, unexpected.

He didn’t see his parents in the house before they dragged him away, kicking and screaming, unaware that it was his last chance to ever see them alive again. The remaining villagers stayed put in their huts. No one dared to come outside and help him. He was alone.

The cathedral he found himself in was large, winding and unfamiliar, twisting and turning in ways that made little sense to him, but the followers of the church had no trouble navigating the bleary corridors. He was shaking, both from the immense chill in the air and his own overwhelming fear.

He met the leader of the church that night - the Church of Mensis - a bizarre and terrifying man named Micolash, who erratically recounted to him myths and legends of higher beings and something about stars or cosmos or whatever. He didn’t understand a single word to pass his lips, and frankly, he didn’t want to. The man sounded absolutely, irredeemably insane.

But then he said something about him being “chosen”, “gifted sight by the Great Ones”, and suddenly he felt ill as his situation became apparent.

For whatever reason, these people thought him important to their beliefs. They wanted to use him. And he was powerless to refuse. He had always, always been powerless to refuse.

-*-

Time slipped away, like sand between his fingers, like the little remnants of sanity he had left. It had quickly become apparent that they were right about him after all.

He wasn’t powerless, not completely. In fact, he possessed a peculiar ability, something he had only ever heard if spoken in stories or song. Something the Church of Mensis honored him for, and something he himself could only see as a miserable curse cast upon him by whatever cruel deity that watched over them all.

He hadn’t even noticed before they told him so, but he could see things that nobody else could. Dark, slimy creatures that watched them from the shadows, spider-like beasts that clung to buildings and observed with vacuous eyes. Eyes, eyes, eyes, everywhere he looked there were a dozen more looking back, in the walls and on the floor and on the head of the roasted boar that was served for dinner that night. Watching, watching, he was always being watched, his every move carefully followed, leaving him so jumpy and paranoid that he could hardly sleep a wink at night.

He heard sounds, sometimes. Most common was the strange, disembodied cry of a baby, echoing through the forest and the halls of the church. It disturbed him greatly at first, moreso that none of the church members seemed to even acknowledge the sound, but after a while it simply became another part of his life. Just background noise, like static. On more rare occasions, he could hear music- and that, he actually enjoyed. It was so quiet in the church, deathly quiet, and the gentle plucking of strings and keys would soothe his frazzled mind. Although it was by no means an ordinary song. It stuck to him as he slept, filling his dreams with stars and the silhouettes of horrifying beasts against a blood red moon.

They had him read tomes filled with nonsense, ancient writings, and the words filled his head with cotton. Eventually, it got to him. The words started to make sense, and it didn’t scare him as much as he knew it should.

Micolash would test him, in his own convoluted ways. He said his ability had something to do with Insight; the capacity of a person’s mind to hold the knowledge of the “Great Ones”. The tomes they had him read contained snippets of this knowledge, and as he continued to process the information, his Insight increased. He gained a new power.

He hadn’t meant to do it, he really hadn’t. He had finished his book and something felt wrong, a squirming sensation in his head, the scent of iron in his nose. He closed his eyes to stave off the ache that grew behind them and for an instant he slipped away. Fallen asleep from exhaustion, he thought. He jerked back to attention, shaking the fatigue from his head, and as he looked around, the church members that had been observing him were all lying on the floor, writhing and clawing at their heads, trapped in a horrible nightmare.

A nightmare of his own creation.

Micolash had applauded him, as he collapsed in horror of what he had done. He had grown powerful enough to create his own dreams, the man explained, and he had implanted one such dream into the minds of those around him. He asked, in a feeble, shaky voice, how he could stop it, how he could free them from the dream he’d accidentally forced upon them.

Micolash had looked at him blankly for several moments before erupting in laughter. “Free them? Why free them from such a wonderful gift?!”

He clutched his head in his hands and cried, for the first time in years.

-*-

Not long after his 19th birthday, Micolash came to him with a wide grin, a glint in his eyes, and he was immediately suspicious.

They led him to a room he had never been to before, a hidden room at the very bottom of the cathedral, deep underground. The cold chilled him to the bone, to the point that even his blood felt frozen stiff in his veins, making every step forward a laborious effort. Micolash seemed excited about whatever was behind that inconspicuous door.

Micolash opened the door. He recoiled instantly as a terrible stench hit him, taking a step back in horror as he recognized the scent of rotting flesh.

It was a long room, almost a corridor, lined wall to wall with corpses, all seated in chairs with some sort of strange metal cage on their heads. At the end of the room, a single chair sat empty. Waiting. Watching. The walls had eyes.

Micolash ushered him inside before he could run away. Every inch of him was screaming to get out, to fight his way out of the man’s grip and run far away, away from him and the Church of Mensis and the confines of the village that had previously been his home. But his blood was frozen, and he couldn’t move.

Micolash was rambling on, as usual. His words rang hollow in his ears. Not hollow enough to obscure the meaning behind them, unfortunately.

He wanted him to create a dream. A nightmare. A nightmare he would project onto the entirety of Yharnam. Every living thing for miles would see his dream, the nightmare he would create and maintain from this lonely room full of death and forgotten dreams.

He felt sick to his stomach. This was their plan all along - this was their end goal from the start, the purpose of all of the tests and training they put him through for nearly a decade. This was the pinnacle of their hard work. He felt powerless all over again in the hands of Micolash of the Church of Mensis, who steered him forward and sat him down in the dusty old chair at the end of the room and brandished the cage he had been carrying in a satchel at his side. The look in his eyes was the look of a broken man, a man who had nothing to lose and everything to gain as he lifted the cage up and over his head and placed it down so it rested on his shoulders.

The eyes grew lips to laugh at him as he screamed. It hurt, more than anything he’d ever felt before, it burned his eyes and his ears, he heard the voices of the corpses on the wall shouting at him, telling him to accept his fate, to play the role forced upon him. His frozen blood began to boil over, and he frantically tried to reach for his face, to take the cage off of his head, to wipe the blood out of his eyes, but it was hard to coordinate his movements when all he could see were the cosmos and thousands of eyes and the red moon that loomed over it all.

Beneath it all, he felt it. The few, fleeting pieces of his conscience, his personality. The real him, the real Momozou Takenaka, who was sick and tired of being used by this crazy bastard and his crazy church and he wasn’t going to sit back and let them take his life away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

In a single moment of clarity, he grasped the metal cage in his hands and yanked it off of his head, flinging it directly at Micolash, who was too slow to deflect the object as it flew straight into his forehead, knocking him to the ground. He didn’t stick around to see if the man was unconscious; he bolted from the chair, from the room, messily wiping blood off of his face and ignoring the twinkling lights in his peripheral vision as he made for his escape.

He knew where the exit was. He had always known, known it was there but just out of his reach. Not anymore. Not ever again.

He never slowed down, not even for a second, not as members if the church chased after him, grabbing for his hair or his clothes, never quite reaching him. He was too fast, or perhaps he appeared to them slightly slower than he really was, appearing in their sights a second behind his actual location. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was his freedom from this damned place.

And he made it. It was something he had dreamed of for so long, and it almost made him angry how easy it was to push open those tall double doors and dash out into the outside world, taking in a deep lungful of fresh air, feeling more alive than he had in years. He was close to laughing as he left that world behind, giddy in his escape, almost manic, the freedom so overwhelming that he kept on running and running and running, far into the night.

-*-

“Hang on... don’t go out there yet. There’s someone there.”

“Someone? A person?”

“I think so. But they’re covered in blood. Doesn’t look good. I wouldn’t trust it.”

“What if they’re injured? I could help them.”

“It could just as easily be a trap.”

“I can’t just walk away if there’s someone that might need help.”

“Hah... all right, if you insist. I suppose that’s what I’m here for.”

Shigeo Kageyama nodded to himself before stepping out onto the roof of the old farm building. He didn’t really know what to expect when he rounded the corner, but from what Hanazawa had described, it wouldn’t be pretty.

What he saw, though... what he saw there nearly broke his heart in two.

There was a young boy there - couldn’t be much older than him - dressed in modest clothing that was, indeed, drenched in blood, though whose it was he couldn’t say. There was a worrying amount of dried blood coating the bottom half of his face and neck, smeared as though he had tried to wipe it away but to no avail. He had his legs drawn tight against his chest, backed into a corner, rocking back and forth with a vacant expression on his face. Whatever he had been through must have traumatized him.

Shigeo felt a sharp pang in his chest. This was someone that definitely needed help.

He approached the stranger slowly, not wanting to startle him, aware that Hanazawa was watching closely from behind. “Hello? Are you hurt?” he asked gently, leaning down slightly to get closer to eye level.

For about a minute the boy did not respond, staring into nothingness, but eventually he did turn in his direction, wide eyes struggling to focus. “Huh...?” he mumbled, voice hoarse and strained, overused. “Who... who are you?”

Shigeo smiled softly, pleased to hear him speak. “My name is Shigeo. It’s okay, I only want to help you,” he said, soft and reassuring. He tilted his head. “What is your name?”

The boy stared at him for several seconds, openly suspicious. “Help,” he repeated plainly, like he didn’t believe it. He looked away, out towards the forest. “You have no idea what I am, do you? Your friend back there has the right idea. You should leave.”

Shigeo’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. How had he managed to see Hanazawa? Had he heard their exchange earlier?

Well. It didn’t matter. Shigeo didn’t feel threatened in the slightest.

“Whatever you are... I’m sure you’re not as terrible as me.”

The boy’s head whipped back around, surprised, and tensed like he was preparing to be attacked, but Shigeo just sat there, calm as ever, posture relaxed.

Then, as an afterthought, “Oh, and Hanazawa is a good person, once you get to know him.”

Unexpectedly, the boy laughed at that statement. It was a quick chuckle, a reaction more than an expression of humor, but it made Shigeo’s heart swell in his chest. Perhaps... he could save this person after all.

Hanazawa walked up behind them, threaded cane resting on his shoulder, hip cocked in that familiar defiant stance. He said nothing, simply emerging from the shadows as his cover had been blown from the start. Still, he stood protectively at Shigeo’s side, eyes trained on the bloodied boy in front of them.

The boy looked between the two of them carefully. He lowered his head as he spoke up again, dangerously quiet. “Are either of you... associated with the Church of Mensis?”

Shigeo scrunched his nose as he searched his brain for anything that sounded similar, but he came up with nothing. He shot a glance to Hanazawa, who seemed just as confused as he was. “The Church of Mensis? I might’ve heard something like that before... are they related to the Healing Church?” Hanazawa asked for the both of them.

The boy sighed, shaking his head. “So you aren’t, then. That’s... good. That’s good,” he trailed off, and he suddenly seemed very tired as his guard finally began to drop. Shigeo figured he deserved some rest after... whatever he had been through.

“There is a place in Yharnam that is safe from beasts - the Oedon Chapel. It’s where we’ve been staying- oh, and my brother is there, too. A kind man named Reigen looks after the place. We can take you there,” he explained, offering a hand to the boy, silently praying that he would trust them and come along, that he would let him help.

The boy looked to the hand, then up at him, then at Hanazawa, then at the hand again. He brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes, ignoring the blood on his face as he slumped forwards and sighed. “I guess I’ve got nothing to lose,” he mumbled before reaching out and grasping Shigeo’s hand. He was so cold that Shigeo nearly jumped at the contact.

He smiled, regardless, and helped the shaking boy to his feet. He was shocked to find that he towered over both him and Hanazawa, though he looked frail, like a twig that threatened to snap at any moment. He tightened his grip, a silent promise to support him as they began the journey home.

Hanazawa led the way, fighting off whatever beast crossed their path. The walk was quiet, for the most part. The boy wasn’t up for conversation.

As they entered the city, he spoke again, with less bite than before. “Momozou,” he said, looking down at Shigeo from beside him. “That’s my name. Momozou,” he repeated with an awkward little smile of his own.

“Momozou... it’s nice to meet you.”

“Heh... you too, Shigeo.”

#sophie writes #mp100 #AUs #bloodborne au #fanfiction #mob is like. almost too pure for bloodborne #he just wants to help!!#and momo. definitely needs some help #imagine his delight when he gets to oedon chapel like 'oo this is a nice place!! nice and safe'#and then ritsu rounds the corner with a book about ancient knowledge and byrgenwerth #and hes just. 'oh'#'i got a bad feel about this shige'

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pallas-cat · 3 years ago

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omg hi vivi i hope your thoughts abate soon 🫂 as for a random thought, hmm.... idk if you play bloodborne but today i just finished a short writing about how bloodborne, though it is based on lovecraft's cosmic horror, ultimately transcends his work by making bigotry and societally normalized violence the main 'thing' you contend with across the story and it was fun to write... oo and damn this was crazy, today the low temp was literally like 10c while the high got up to like 28c. Absolutely Fucked

ty lov ;3;!!!!

also i do love bloodborne's aesthetic even if i haven't played it myself! now i'm curious ngl and it seems very interesting to explore so i'm glad you got to do it :D

also lmao i could NOT with these temp variations idk how you're surviving and i thought montreal was bad!!! wow!!!

#i mean we get those iconic 0-to-minus-25 moments in winter #but it's like.....the same season #absolutely deranged!!!

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doshmanziari · 5 years ago

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I know that by now one of the functions of Twitter is to rush to make the first joke about something for the sake of attention even if it’s not necessarily representative of the deeper convictions of the person making the joke, but I am going to assume some level of sincerity here and observe: how interesting that the immediate suggestiveness of a fictional place’s name -- Lordran -- is interpreted as a crassly literal compound. A crucial point here is that Lordran’s name is Lordran and not Lordland; the ambiguity of “ran” (or “dran”! There is nothing indicating that Lordran’s construction is lord+ran -- and, after all, Dark Souls 2′s setting, Drangleic, has the prefix of “drang”, an evocation of “sturm und drang” and, possibly, “Lordran”) allows us to develop a multiplicity of meanings. The least engaging of these is that Lordran is just a bungled “localization” from Japanese to English, and yet even in this case the supposed obscuring of “actual” meaning is relevant to Dark Souls, wherein ambiguities such as whether or not “Havel” was the name of a person or place abound.

To me, the Dark Souls trilogy (not so much the second game) and Bloodborne are remarkable for their naming conventions. A lot of fantasy works are content to parrot certain Tolkien-esque phonologies without the structure informing Tolkien’s languages or drop in a ton of apostrophes to indicate the Exotic. The very appellational strength of Dark Souls and Bloodborne is that they easily impart ideas without exactly representing those ideas. That so many people have misspelled and continue to misspell Yharnam as “Yarnham” is a strength because it demonstrates that people are construing it in the same way they do, e.g., Birmingham (“ham” being etymologically related to “home”). The switcharound of the “h” is a brilliant, simple touch, suggestive of a latent wrongness, and the word as a whole gains extra power when considering that an older, isolated part of the city is named Yahar’gul (”Yahar” => “Yhar”; the double gape of YAHAR has been scaled back to the singularity of YHAR, as if to better hide an underlying brutality and pretend civility).

“Lordran” has orthographic and phonetic resonances elsewhere as well, as we keep finding disyllabic words beginning with “lo”: Londo (Dark Souls), Londor and Lothric (Dark Souls 3), and Loran (Bloodborne). Through these resonances it as if we can detect a collective unconscious striving to locate a foundational word. Even in apparently purely artificial names like Oolacile there is latent meaning. We have very few words in English beginning with “oo” (an atypicality here with relevance, considering Oolacile’s prehistoric situating), and one of them is oolite, a sedimentary rock whose name derives from the ancient Greek word ᾠόν for egg. The egg, an insulated chamber for developing life; Oolacile, an oolitic domicile, the cradle of human civilization. Ample attention has been given to Anor Londo and Irithyll -- successful cases of Tolkien-esque inventions, I’d note -- but not to much else. Let’s give more attention to the rest, and in good faith, without assuming that tropes, multifarious entrendres, puns, and the like exclusively exist in a dead zone of banalities.

#DARK SOULS #bloodborne #language

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alieninside · 2 years ago

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Lesbians literally never miss drawing women, I always can immediately tell it was a lesbian who drew them I love it their so pretty

Some of the first mariadelines I ever drew <3

#OP THIS IS SO PRETTY #I love them #it’s so well drawn hhhhh #saint adeline #lady maria of the astral clocktower #mariadeline #fromsoftware #soulsborne #bloodborne #oo the bloodborne

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osaka-lilac · 4 years ago

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thank u @dndboyfriend for the ask tag! :D

introduce yourself! (name, age, pronouns if u like, etc.)

allie, 16 (p much 17 tho), they/them !

where are you from (if you’re comfortable answering)?

wisconsin

how did you get into polygon?

my friend showed me touch the skyrim with griff and [redacted] and i loved it but i subbed and never really watched the videos, but it wasn’t until i pat’s dark souls video right as it came out that i really fell in deep

who’s your fave group (cyberpunk crew, overboard regulars, gill & gilbert (as a general duo), etc.)?

my fav has to be gill and gilbert as a whole but may i point out jenna and brian’s vibes in week in review?? love those two

what polygon series have you been into recently?

it’s technically not polygon anymore but i’m catching up on the monster factory bits i never saw. turbovicki is my favorite

fave cyberpunk overboard character?

,,, can i just say all? (but i do love burger chainz with all my heart)

fave unraveled?

i have a soft spot for mortal komfort,,,

favourite polygon moment/meme/in-joke?

oddly all the piss ones in the jackbox videos? specifically clayton making a joke and quietly says “i’m just disappointed i dove into the piss well” and it fucking sends me every time

a random series of theirs that you just think is... neat?

that one series where brian talks about cheap games?? indie gamers + broke student solidarity

oo i also love pat comparing one thing to another and proving it totally right,, muppet bloodborne is my go to for cheering up

three fun facts about yourself (be they related or completely unrelated to polygon)

-i’m a part of my states’ national honors choir

-for a lesson in choir during quarantine my teacher asked us to record ourselves singing something we loved and made us happy, so i sang this manhattan man and she told me it was a gorgeous song

-i have no clue what i want to be when i grow up but i want to go into 3D animation and lighting (like making stuff like lighting in movies like finding nemo)

tag some friends!

@bath-tub-up-you-up @look-at-this-galoomba @videogametheatre

or anyone that would like to! thank you ^-^

#ask tag #shut up allie #polygon #bdg #brian david gilbert #jenna stoeber #patrick gill #pat gill #clayton ashley #griffin mcelroy

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ruthlesslistener · 5 years ago

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Ghost, Quirrel, Seer?

Lmao I was just going to send you some asks but I saw all of the ones I was going to send in got answered XD

Ghost: Why did you decide to play Hollow Knight?

-I believe what happened to catch my attention was that I was watching a Bloodborne video when the guy mentioned he had been busy playing Hollow Knight to explain why he was absent from the soulsborne community. He showed a clip, I gasped and went ‘that’s Studio Ghibli Dark Souls! :OO’ and started watching a playthrough of because I loved the aesthetics of it (a pre dlc and updates version, so I wasn’t spoiled for the pantheons or Grimm). As soon as I was finished I googled how much it was, saw it was on sale for like, 7 bucks and bought it. 10/10 best impulse buy bc this ended up being the one game that I could play with my siblings lmao, everyone loves it

Quirrel: What was your favorite thing to discover for the first time?

-I wouldn’t say it was so much one big thing I discovered as much as a bunch of little details that I started noticing once I actually began playing through the game (since the guy I watched was a speedrunner so he just kinda tried to run through everything, even though it was his first playthrough). Stuff like Ghost falling asleep on the bench, their falling in acid animation, Grimmchild attacking Millibelle, the fact that the Last Stag’s name changes to the Old Stag after he finds the nest and Ghost named Millibelle the thief after- those tiny discoveries were what got me. I love the tiny little details in things, and the fact that they added all those in really increased my love for the game design and immersion.

I will say, however, that I loved a lot was def. the nature of the royal family. When I learned that Hornet was Ghost’s half-sister and Ghost was one of ten thousand other vessels...man. Hornet’s was a source of great amusement, because she acts like a sister, but I don’t think anyone could be prepared for seeing Broken Vessel and the Abyss

Seer: Favorite ghost in Hallownest? Did you harvest any of them for their Essence?

-Like, as in dream warrior or just dead people? Because if it’s a dream warrior then def. Markoth, personalitywise (Xero is tied with him only bc him trying to fight the Pale King is super fucking hilarious- you go himbo). I’m biased bc he’s an edgy moth man with a bunch of swords and a sexy voice, but...okay no that’s exactly why I like him so much. Apart from the natural curiosity of why a moth would take up a weapon and wield it so violently, I just really, really like the edgy moth aesthetic, especially because lorewise he’s basically the one emo kid from a gang of hippies

For non combative ghost I would have to choose Marissa. I love her voice, and I love the quiet moment of Ghost just sitting with this long-dead singer as the rain pours down in the City of Tears. It’s serene and sad, yeah, but it’s also really calming, and the fact that some preservation of Hallownest’s beauty continues in her room is just...perfect

Also no, I don’t harvest them for their Essence bc I’m not an asshole and I like having them around

Send me Hollow Knight asks!

#hollow knight #ask meme #reply #vivifrage #like i know that's sending them to rest but still #i enjoy those relics of Hallownest's past

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