#or another ghostly allies place

[izzabela]

Idk how to start with this but like how Hanzo is the last couple timlimes kinda clawed out of hell just to avenge his family and shit. Something along the lines of the reader doing it with one of the Lin Luei bros of your choice? Like they died during a mission gone wrong that ended in a massacre with only the Lin Kuei bro alive. So the reader just out of sheer desperation to get back to them bascially claws themselves out of the Netherrealm to try and get back to them. Their covered in burns and they look like shit, but their back

From the Depths of Hell - Kuai Liang x GN!reader

in which you come back home

a/n: DLC announcement, how we feelin?

ship[s]: kuai liang x gn!reader

warning(s): bodily injury(/ies)?, gore?, angst, non-kanon story, non-kanon lore LOL

the TATTOOS GUYS THE TATTOOS OH MY ELDER GO-

=====================

You looked at Kuai Liang's eyes as he stares at you. His eyes, that are usually focused and reserved, held a line of tears as he looks into your eyes.

The fight to defend the Fire Temple and Hourglass from another timeline threat ended, and the casualties in this were double Shang Tsung's atrocities.

While Liu Kang, his champions, and other titan allies remained relatively alright, mortal casualties from the Lin Kuei and the monks of the Wu Shi climb high.

This was not a war, not even a state of emergency. This was a bloodbath, a massacre- carnage.

It was so bad that the aid you and the Lin Kuei provided, most (if not all) of the men and women that were born into this clan, perished.

The lone survivors were you, Kuai Liang, Bi Han, and Tomas. Not even Sektor and Cyrax made it.

"My dear?" He calls out to you, and you smile as you happily close your eyes, arms are wide open for him to embrace you.

Except you can feel something pass through you. Like a wave of goosebumps, you don't feel the muscular body of Kuai Liang, nor the warmth of his arms.

You turn around and watch as he kneels on the ground, cradling a body that looks eerily similar to yours. You try to get his attention, waving your hands, screaming his name even. But when you try to grab his shoulder, your hand phases through it, and your eyes meet the gaze of your very own, lifeless, ones.

Kuai Liang's shoulders rack violently, rocking back and forth as he holds your cold body. There's a deep, ugly gash running down your collarbone to your stomach, scratches littering your usually clean face, and blood coming from the top of your head. You gasp, falling to your butt as you scoot away.

Your ghostly presence shakes again, this time two people passing through you.

"Brother..." Bi Han's voice is rough, but eerily soft as his eyes lay upon the situation at hand. Tomas is also by his side, and he looks into the sky as he fights the tears that threaten to fall.

"She told me she could handle it..." he mumbles, still rocking back and forth. "I let her go because she told me so..."

Suddenly, you could feel yourself slipping away from the bloodshed. Your arms tried to reach for something, anything, but the mysterious force that stole you from your dearest and his family was too strong.

One minute, you were in Earthrealm. Next, you found yourself in the chaos and eternal damnation of the Netherrealm.

The scenery of the realm frightened you. You had heard the rumors, learned from Ashrah as well, but seeing it in person was different. Jagged and sharp mountains painted the endless and borderless horizon. Echoes of the screams and cries of the damned can be heard throughout the realm, and no matter how much you cover your ears, it rings clearly through your hands.

"By the elder gods," you plea silently. Tears welled in your eyes, the overwhelming sorrow of this place filling your soul.

You begin to cry, wandering aimlessly in the terrain as your body begins to burn, scar, and tear at the elements it faces. What's worse, though, is that you couldn't feel it- not a single thing.

You couldn't feel the jagged stones and rocks that pierced through your feet and scraped your legs. You couldn't feel the fire that burned your arms and torso, your burns scarring over themselves as you wandered. And you couldn't even feel the tearing of your skin as debris from the whirling winds cut you up.

"No use... stay here... all alone... the fire welcomes me..." you mumble this mantra over and over again.

There is no possibility of keeping track of time here. Order, law, civilization as you once knew did not exist here- not when it's ruler-less, borderless, and populated with the most wicked.

And you had to walk through it all.

********

As you walked, Kuai Liang mourned. The loss of his clan was one thing, the loss of his beloved? You? Impossible to comprehend.

While everyone mourned differently, Kuai Liang was different. Fire is beautiful, but also dangerous. It can be wild, uncontrollable, an element of destruction. And by the elder gods, he was ready to explode.

The yellow-clad ninja's depression was violent and manic. He lashed out on everyone, almost burning his brothers and burning Liu Kang's champions. He did not sleep, his insomnia coming back full force to keep him training or sparring.

He wandered the empty palace, sometimes stopping in the courtyard and yelling exercise mantras- as if he still had initiates to train. He was falling deeper and deeper into a psychosis- and you weren't there to witness it.

Bi Han, Tomas, Liu Kang and his champions, hell even some of the Outworlders the Lin Kuei allied with, they all tried to help him, but it was no use. Kuai Liang was a ticking time bomb, and every little thing could be considered the ignition.

One night, Kuai Liang finally passes out from exhaustion of his insomnia. Tomas heard a thud in the hallways, and found one of the servants trying to pick him up. i know i said everyone died but do you honestly think servants go? Tomas tells the servant he's got it, and rushes to his brother in his study.

"B-Bi Han!" he stutters out, his brother on his back as he calls for the cryomancer.

Bi Han gets up immediately, and it's slightly scary for Tomas to watch him tie him down without saying a word.

However, it was for his own good, he'd been growing more and more unstable, taking him out traditionally would probably get one of them killed.

As Tomas watches his brother's chest rise and fall, Tomas prays for the first time in decades.

"God, whoever. If you can hear me, please..." he begs.

"Please return my brother."

********

You're not sure how long it's been since you've heard a noise other than a scream or cry.

But when you hear the faintest whisper of Tomas's voice, your tears cease and your humanity is brought back momentarily. You wipe your eyes and look left, right, down, and up, trying to figure out where and how you heard Tomas's voice.

"return?" you repeat what you heard.

The whisper grows into something more tangible, like a hushed tone someone used in the library. You can hear his voice more clearly, but not yet loud enough.

"Please- retu- bro-," you hear his voice whisper fragments of words.

You shut your eyes tightly, using the last bit of your energy to really zone in on his words.

"God... whoever. If you can hear me... Please. Please return my brother," his voice booms in your head. It's shaky, almost like he's holding in his tears.

"Oh Tomas..." you coo as your tears begin.

Tomas hasn't gone to church in decades. Being from Prague, The Czech Republic, catholicism used to be a major part of his identity. After his parents, he lost the spark and drive he had for the religion.

"The fact he is praying..." you mutter to yourself. "Oh elder gods."

Kuai Liang must've not taken your passing as well as his brothers. Death was natural in your line of work, Kuai Liang had hosted many burials in honor of his clans-people, but you were different. You weren't just a clan member, a ninja, or a woman.

You were Kuai Liang's, just as he was your man. You were his fire, his drive to fight, his partner for life. To be separated so soon... you can only imagine what it would be like in his shoes.

You wipe your tears as you get up from your spot on the ground. More burns appear, but they do nothing to you as you begin to tread for the end of this realm.

However, despite such a noble start, you realize the pain that once felt dull to you was creeping back in increments. Slowly, the agony began to settle in.

"I guess the more human I am, the more I'll feel again," you groan, walking the grounds of the Netherrealm as you try to find any semblance of an escape.

Finally, you stop at a huge wall. Looking up, you realize that it's emitting a haze of heat, just hovering your hand over it feeling like you got burned again. You think of stopping, returning back to the sad, yet easy life of a wandering spirit.

"No," you tell yourself. "Not when you have something to live for."

And so, you grabbed onto the stony wall, hoisting yourself up as you reach, grab, and pull yourself higher and higher. It's hot, scorching, melting your skin as more burns cover your body; you don't care.

Not when your beloved's brother prayed for the first time in years. Not when you realize the agony your beloved is living through as you lie here- wandering and helpless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blue.

Blue and white.

It's cold, too.

You aren't sure how long you had been climbing, but when you make it back to Earthrealm. And while the chill bites you, it feels like a warm hug.

The warmest of hugs.

Using the last of your strength, you pull yourself up and land into the powdered snow. You gasp as you lay in the snow, rolling around in it like a husky.

You're on hands and knees as you take in your surroundings, and bits of yourself too.

This is Arctika, that's certain. The fir and maple trees that are around this part of the small nation, the constant snowfall the region has is also an indicator. You climbed out of hell to finally be home, but that's the least of your worries.

Looking down at your body, you examine the serious burns that mar your arm. Like a crazy artist on a canvas, your arms are painted in splotches of pink and brown.

But why can you only see one arm?

Your leg also experience this type of artistry, except scars of deep cuts add more depth to this painting. You knew your leg would be cut up from the climb, but you didn't realize to what extreme they would be.

You honestly don't want to look at your face, but when you lick your parched lips, you limp to the nearest body of water you could find.

By the gods, you had never been so... shocked. No words could describe what happened to your face, but it's not a secret when it's this obvious.

A huge, healed burn starts from your right eye, down diagonally across your nose and lips, and ending at your chin. You also realize why you can only see one body part.

Your left eye has been blinded, and there's a scar over your eye as well. You don't remember when this happened, but it doesn't matter when it's real and on your face. You stifle tears as the realization sets in, and all the adrenaline that kept you alive leaves, and you pass out next to the water.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuai Liang remains in his room, bound to his bed as his brothers stare him in the face. He's livid, body temperature rising as he tries to use his fire to melt the chains that hold him.

Too bad they're imbued with magic.

"Release me at once! Bi Han! Tomas!" he seethes, venom dripping from his words.

Both men look at one another as they meet with sad eyes. For the first time in years, these two agree on one thing- that their brother has become unstable and a threat.

"We cannot do that, brother," Tomas says softly, and Kuai Liang is practically pulling the chains off the walls before a servant bursts through the doors of the bedroom.

"Grandmaster! I come bearing news-" but the servant is immediately yelled at by Bi Han.

"What do you have for us that allow you such disobedience?!" Bi Han screeches, but the servant is out of his water as he keeps talking.

"Grandmaster, master Tomas... She is here." The young men stare at the servant with semi-lax faces, and they push out of the way as the servant locks eyes with the bound pyromancer.

"How do you mean?!" Kuai Liang yells, arms shaking the chains, but it falls on deaf ears as they run out of the room.

Bi Han and Tomas are in the courtyard, and the servants are trembling at their knees as they carry your slumped body. Bi Han and Tomas rush to them, the former carrying your head and the latter at your feet and legs.

"This... is a trap. We saw her die," Bi Han states matter of factly.

"But look, brother," Tomas points out a damning feature of yours. "No one else in the clan has such a part on their body."

"Agh...." you groan, moving around as best as you can. The men move more softly, trying to keep you comfortable.

"(Y/n)?" Tomas calls, and you blink multiple times before the vision of an ashen-haired man appears in your eye.

"Oh elder gods, you're real," you whisper, touching his cheek as Tomas turns pink. You turn to Bi Han and touch his face too.

"It's not a dream...." you mumble to yourself, and Bi Han sits you up so you can breathe properly.

"That... is not possible," Bi Han mutters. "We saw you....die. Kuai Liang held you, he-." You cut him off at the mention of your partner.

"Bi Han, where is he? How is he? I heard he has gone mad, show me where-" it seems everyone in this family has a habit of not letting people finish their sentences.

"Wait, how do you know he was going crazy? You've been dead for months!" Tomas gets up, pointing an accusing finger at you with an accompanied glare.

"I heard you pray, Tomas," you say, getting up slowly to your feet. Tomas is shocked, a bit scared, but he nods as helps you. You arm is over his shoulder, and you limp.

"You look well for what the Netherrealm has treated you," Bi Han quips, and you raise a brow at his dry humor.

As you walk upstairs together, entering the room, and you're met with such a heart-wrenching sight.

Kuai Liang has wrist burns where the chains hold him. His eyes are sunken in, and he has deep and heavy eye-bags under his dimmed eyes. His skin is dull, but there are littered bruises and cuts all over him.

"Kuai Liang?" you ask carefully, voice echoing into bedroom. His head is up, and his tired eyes are bright at the sight of you.

"Oh... darling," you whimper, limping over to him as you wrap your arms around him, his warmth crawling all over your skin as you breathe him in.

"I'm here, I am here. You do not need to be afraid or angry, please beloved," you beg, crying as your shoulder wrack and shake.

Kuai Liang breathes you in, that natural scent of yours with the slightest hint of death. But it doesn't overpower your smell. In fact, it compliments your scent.

Kuai Liang's chains are removed, and finally his hands wrap around you. He holds you, so tight that he was afraid you'd leave again. He tries to look at you, but you're shy.

Also, mangled at the face, you cannot forget that your face isn't what Kuai Liang fell in love with.

"Kuai, no, please do not look,' you whisper. "I am not the same as I was before..."

Kuai Liang just holds your cheek, rubbing it as he smiles tiredly.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you." Your eyes well up in more tears as he kisses the scarred parts of your face.

You hold each other, your arms lovingly around his back.

It would take more than death to tear you apart from him.

=====================

no yap notes, see yall in the next fic!

[five-rivers]

If you're still doing prompts, may I suggest Danny learning about the legends following his time travel (what the Romans thought was up; the Buddhists, that one kid, etc

Physics and engineering major or not, Danny still needed credits in the humanities. Comparative Mythology and Folklore was the obvious choice for that. All through high school, Sam and Jazz had been on his case about knowing so little mythology, on account of his ghostly enemies and allies sometimes being mythological figures.

(Also the constellation thing, but they didn't bring that part up all that much, funnily enough.)

At the time, Danny had figured (see what he did there?) that there wasn't much point to it. Pandora wasn't all that similar to her mythic version, Medusa didn't turn people to stone, and winged horses were, by and large, not friendly.

Recent events had made him reconsider that stance.

Anyway! The class was a "two birds, one stone" sort of deal. He got both credits and practical knowledge. Theoretically.

So far, they'd covered creation myths and etiological stories, gods and goddesses, the monolith and the hero's journey, and now, in the tiny slice of time before they had to start studying for the final, they were looking at weird minor similarities without clear causes.

"Now," said the professor, "this next one is probably my favorite, because it's so specific and so widespread. Of course, the most obvious reason for this is that it's a story that traveled, much like how the pre-Indo-European gods traveled. However, the times and locations involved make that very unlikely, at least in my opinion. The other end of the spectrum is, of course, aliens, which are even more unlikely."

There was a soft smattering of laughter throughout the large classroom. Danny started to get a bad feeling about this.

"The other strange thing about this particular similarity is that it comes out of seemingly nowhere, with regards to the larger culture. There have even been several instances of it in this century - although, given modern information infrastructure, those instances may not be entirely organic. But Imperial Rome, China, Colonial America, just to name a few… That's weirder. Any guesses about what I'm talking about?"

No one raised their hand, and after a couple of minutes, the professor used their remote control to go to the next slide of their presentation. Danny sank down in his seat as he stared up at a collage of himself in a dozen different art styles.

"All around the world, there are stories about a young man or boy with white hair and dark clothing coming from 'distant lands' to either fight off 'monsters' or to retrieve unspecified objects. As you can see, despite some of these pieces being from cultures that never had any contact with one another, the resemblance of the figures is striking. The– Yes, you have a question?"

"Will this be on the final?" asked a student a few rows down from Danny.

The professor sighed. "As a general rule, if I'm teaching you about it, I'll be testing you about it. Moving on–"

Danny forced himself to start taking notes. He couldn't believe he was going to be tested on himself. Especially when he was pretty sure he hadn't even been to all of those places yet.

Clockwork must be laughing his head off.

[mistigrisunshine]

spuffy fic rec

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

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[silent-sanctum]

Hi~ can I be 🍓anon? If you’re doing the emoji anon thing. Well, I just wanted to know if you’d write something with soulmate AU. I’m literally the most basic b ever and a sucker for soulmate AU. 🙈 something with jotaro being your soulmate is so cute to me…You can come up with any premise you want!

Hello 🍓 anon! I'm really sorry I took so long to put this out. I had a lot going on irl 😭 But here it is, over 9k worth of content about destiny and meeting each other through that.

Now, I'm gonna be honest, I am not too fond of the trope but I do dig it from time to time. So, I hope what I wrote meets your expectations! Hope you enjoy! ♡

A Wonderful World - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 9k

Everything was a blur. You couldn’t feel anything as your body felt weightless and cold.

But you could make out the rush of water fly by you and you could’ve sworn the skies went awry, never stopping as day turned to dusk to night to dawn and back in a blink of an eye.

You couldn’t move an inch and in circumstances like this, you knew this moment of clarity would be the last breath you’d experience.

Around you were bodies lying on the raging waters. A few of them were unfamiliar to you but you considered them allies, companions who aided you in getting this far into the chaos, and next to you was…

Your eyes swelled with tears.

Next to you was your husband motionless, forever resting as he left this world before you, a bleeding gash that split the right side of his face serving as a reminder of what caused his death.

‘I failed you.’

Whatever energy you had left in you was spent through your hand wading through the water, all to reach him one last time. Your surroundings started to dim and your body rotted with time, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered now was spending your last seconds by his side.

With your hand holding his, you closed your eyes and sent a prayer to the heavens- that maybe in another universe… in another timeline where this much pain and suffering didn’t exist… you prayed desperately that if it was written in fate, you could meet him there and fall in love all over again.

As you took your last breath, the last name you hoped carried on to the next life was-

You gasp, eyes now wide awake.

Your vision cleared and it took you a couple blinks for you to reorient with your surroundings. It was early morning and here you lay on your bed, the curtains drawn and the digital clock beside you just turning 7:31 with its bright red font.

Then there was that familiar ache that made you grasp your heart and spill a tear upon waking. “That dream again… It’s always that stupid dream,” you mumbled as you swiped the wetness off your eyes. You couldn’t for the life of you know why that one was so consistent amidst the many other random variants in your head.

And why the name couldn’t come to mind in every instance.

Before you, a ghostly apparition hovered out to face you with a fabric loosened to lay on your shoulders. You smiled as you grasped the translucent rose gold silk. “It’s fine. I’m fine Sanctuary. Just the usual.”

The entity tilted its head and only after the cloth lightly caressed your cheek with affection did it disappear back into you.

In perfect timing, your phone rang and on the screen flashed “Manager”. Swiping to accept, you placed the device by your ear. “Yes manager-nim?”

“Well if it isn’t my favorite leading star. I do hope you remember that you’re scheduled for a shoot at Toushiki Beach today.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes with a smirk at the singsong voice of the caller. “Yeah yeah, I know. 10:30 in the morning, right?”

“Ding ding ding. And if you don’t want your co-star complaining our ears off, you better be ready when I ring that doorbell.”

“Don’t worry,” you threw your legs off to the side and stood, heading to the bathroom. “I’ve always been on time. No matter how late I wake or whatnot. If anything, it’s him that’s always late.”

On the other side of the call, your manager groaned less at you and more at his situation. “And yet we’re also pulled into his mess.”

“Well, this isn’t my first rodeo. If the director starts yelling at us again, I’ll make sure to remind him who’s truly at fault here,” you said. “Besides, no one would be at fault but his if he even considers changing one of the industry’s highest-paid actors mid-shoot.”

“You better keep your word Y/N.”

“I will.”

Life as a celebrity was nothing too challenging, considering you’ve been raised to shine for the masses. Stardom started as a singer when your parents encouraged you to use your voice to entice the public. But as that career took off, you were offered to star in a film as an artist cameo once you’ve hit 18.

Then it all snowballed down the line. Many producers found your visuals and acting skills top-notch and wanted you to lead their shows and movies.

Here you were 10 years later- an A-list actress paid handsomely to feature in media that award-winning directors directed.

And to make it all better, well for you at least, you had someone to accompany you. A ghostly entity you named “Silent Sanctuary” was linked to you and you didn’t know why it did or how no one else did, but you came to accept that she was a part of you- a being who wished to be your invisible ��guardian angel” willingly.

Your thoughts were shoved aside as the vehicle stopped and your actual bodyguard opened the door for you. Immediately, a frazzled-looking man in a padded jacket holding a clipboard came running to you. “Y/N! Oh, thank god you were here before your co-star did!”

“What did I say?” You said, stepping outside onto the concrete pavement. The breeze from the nearby sea brushed your hair on your arrival. “I told you I’m always on time.”

“Yeah that’s great and all but we still have to report to the director,” he said as he led you across the solid path ahead, walking past the rocky formations jutting out from the sandy ground and down on the stone staircase leading to the beach.

Ahead of you was the production crew setting up the necessary equipment needed for filming, and among them was a loud-mouthed man yelling at somebody to fix the sound system with his megaphone. Yeah, just another day of filming.

Soon your co-star arrived, late as you’d expect, already stomping into the scene whining about how cold it was or how annoying traffic was. But that didn’t matter as you sucked yourself into the role you were given ahead of time.

The movie’s concept revolved around the idea of soulmates. Its story involved the tale of two lovers who were always met at the short end of the stick, constantly losing each other time and time again, and your character’s job was to find a way to make sure that in this universe, you’d reach for your love and never let fate separate them again.

You weren’t fond of these films mainly because you thought the idea of “finding your fated partner” sounded too childish or fantastical to your liking, and initially, you were about to reject the offer. But somehow, as you read the script for the first time, you found yourself… touched. Your heart ached not at the thought of “meeting your soulmate for the first time” but at the idea of “finding your lover again in a better world”.

For a second, your mind thought back to the dream you kept having- of rushing water, fallen bodies, and the deceased man you held hands with.

And here you were now- playing the lead role for this “red string of fate-esque” movie with one of the worst partners you’d imagine. Do this for the output. For the results. For the story to be told to the crowd.

So, you did your part well; the moment the director cued the cameras to start rolling, you did your best to portray a struggling person arguing with her estranged lover about a key issue in the film. It took several cuts and a couple of re-shoots before the director was contented with the scene and called for an hour-long break. Lunch.

You invited your manager to eat out at a nearby restaurant selling ramen but he politely declined saying he had to answer some phone calls regarding brand deals you were supposed to be in.

You went ahead, a single bodyguard in tow on the way to the supposed popular place. When you got there, its reputation met your expectations- the place was filled to the brim, teeming with customers wanting a taste of the chef’s tasty ramen. With security waiting outside, you entered the place with your mask and hat on and fell in line.

Once your order was taken and a blinking pager was given, you turned to look for a spot where you could wait. But then, a pull caught your attention and you looked over to see Sanctuary hovering about, fixating on something with a fabric tugging your wrist.

“Hey,” you whispered. “What’s wrong?”

The entity ignored your words and continued tugging, wanting you to go somewhere. Confused, you directed your gaze to where your companion faced- the stairs leading to the upper floors. “Oh, you found a seat for me?” No response. Only her incessant pulling. “Alright, I’m going.”

You went upstairs, brushing past the passing crowd on the way. You were met with more people enjoying their meals and zero empty tables. “Sanctuary, I thought there were-” You didn’t get to complete your sentence when the ghost kept tugging at your wrist, its head directed to the stairs going up.

“The rooftop?” As far as you could tell, the rooftop section of the place was reserved for those who booked a spot ahead of time, and even as famous as you are, you haven’t made any reservations so you didn’t get to head upstairs. “Sanctuary, I didn’t plan to eat here. I’m not supposed to go there!”

But your supposed loyal entity remained stubborn as she fully manifested out of you and hovered to the 3rd floor of the restaurant with speed. “Hey!” You sword you’ve never had her disobey you ever throughout the time you had her, but this was a first and it flustered you to this extent. “Come back here!”

You continued up the final flight of stairs and swung open the door leading outside. Fortunately, the place was mostly empty considering the restaurant just opened.

On the other hand, your relief at the lack of people was replaced with embarrassment as you spotted Silent Sanctuary wrapped around a lone, unsuspecting man sitting by one of the tables beside the glass fence.

The person didn’t pick up her presence much like the others, only confused as dictated by the cocked head, furrowed brows, and rigid posture he had due to the binds your ghost companion had on him.

Play it cool. Excuse yourself. You cleared your throat, bringing his attention away from the book in his hand to you. As he stared at you, you stood still, caught off guard at his attractiveness: Slicked-up raven hair, bold jawline, and stunning aquamarine eyes. Was he an actor? You peeked at the built figure beneath his black turtleneck and white coat. Or a model perhaps?

“Yes?” Shit, his voice is deep too.

“Ah hello,” you bowed in courtesy and he did the same with a bob of his head. You steadily approached him, eyeing Sanctuary to let go and get back inside. “I was just looking for a place to eat. The place is crowded down here.”

“There are empty tables beside you,” he said, gruffly.

“Well yeah, but those are reserved so I can’t eat there.”

The stranger cocked his brow and crossed his arms. “You’ve made no reservations and yet you’re here?”

You subtly glared at your invisible companion still hovering close to the man. That seemed to do the trick as the entity reluctantly let go and disappeared. You kept up a calm front and answered, “Listen, I’m on a time crunch right now so I can’t wait for a table downstairs. This place also doesn’t offer take-outs so I figured maybe I could…”

“Share a table?”

“Yeah!… That…” Which was a lie. You did find a table on the first floor and were about to beeline straight to it, but Sanctuary had to intervene at the worst time possible. “And look what we have here; an empty seat in front of you unless you have someone coming-”

“I’m here by myself.”

Unintentionally, you let out a quick “ah” with a clap and nod. “So… can I-”

“No,” The man continued to stare at you, unimpressed. “Not until you clarify how tight your current schedule exactly is. You can return another time when it’s less busy.”

Your mind was running circles trying to come up with excuse after excuse; one that wasn’t entirely false so it alleviated your guilty conscience. But your patience was running thin as your break gradually shortened. “I can’t come back some other time because I have somewhere else to be after today,” you gritted out. “This restaurant’s only available in this part of Tokyo so I want to try their ramen before I leave.”

“You didn’t tell me the details of your current schedule. What if you’re lying?”

You clicked your tongue, pulled down your mask, and took your hat off, revealing yourself to him. “See those groups of people with filming equipment over there?” You pointed to the beach to which he did look over. “I’m part of their team and they’re about to call my ass any minute now.”

For a second, the stranger blinked at you with what you thought was recognition, but then-

“You man the cameras?”

“C-Camera-” At this point, you scoffed with your hands on your hips, tonguing the inside of your cheek as you looked to the sky wishing for more patience. “You really can’t lend a poor bystander a free seat because of some kind of stubborn skepticism?”

“You barged in here and interrupted my peace first.”

“Come on, just this once?” You glanced at the empty bowl on his table. “You’re done with yours so might as well, right?”

“What if I still say no?” He said. “You rude nag.”

You simply stared at him with disbelief and from some gut instinct, you blurted out an audible “asshole” before you realized what you said. You cupped your mouth, stunned, but the stranger didn’t seem insulted by the exchange.

Instead, he was… amused? Surprised?

Just then, your pager beeped wildly from inside your pocket. “Crap, what should I-”

“Alright,” you turned to the man with wide eyes. “You can have that seat.”

A big wave of relief swept across your panicking mind and with a quick word of gratitude, you hurried downstairs to fetch your steaming bowl of ramen.

---

Jotaro didn’t know what to make of his encounter with this… stranger.

It happened so suddenly- one moment he was minding his own business, invested in the detective novel he had in his hand, the next his body felt constricted as if he was bound by invisible ropes, and next a random masked lady barges through the door, appearing frazzled.

Then in the next minute, you’re here trying to persuade him to share a table due to the packed situation of the restaurant.

He should’ve been annoyed. That’s how it’s always been with people who seemed entitled to have everything to themselves or those who crossed his boundaries, but he couldn’t find it in him to be irritated at you. Skeptical sure, but pissed? Not exactly.

Admittedly, Jotaro had no problem sharing the table with you. He was done with his meal and you provided reasonable excuses in a polite manner- A busy worker who wanted a taste of a local delicacy before leaving.

He would’ve gotten up right then and there, but for some reason, he wanted to tease you- rile you up a bit until those polite mannerisms slipped up. What the hell? Why would I do that? Despite his logical reasoning, he continued to reject your approaches and you began to seethe, growing frustrated.

He huffed. Why am I feeling… nostalgic?

And when you removed both your mask and hat, Jotaro paused as he took one good look at you. Wait… you’re- Why do I feel like I’ve seen you before?

It wasn’t from any media he had watched or a published article he’d read. It was somewhere else and it made his chest throb out of the blue. Where?

Then in a fit of understandable anger, you remarked him being an asshole and a hard sense of Deja vu struck him as an image sparked in his head- a school’s rooftop, him in his black school uniform, and a female student saying that same word as she was about to head inside.

“Mind your own business, bitch.”

“Insults won’t get you anywhere, asshole.”

This was supposed to be during his high school years, but as far as he knew, he didn’t go to the rooftop once or talk to another student like in his visions. He smoked outside the school building and ignored any squealing fans that came his way. Jotaro was about to comment on it, but your pager blared and caused you to panic. Looks like the game’s over.

“Alright. You can have the spare seat.” And at your wide-eyed expression and a quick word of gratitude, he had to resist himself from smiling even by a little bit. This isn’t how he’s supposed to behave; tease a stranger and then smile endearingly at them because of a thank you?

But he couldn’t overstay now, not when you’re supposed to be back here any moment now with a huge bowl of ramen, and so he stood, heading to the exit.

On the way, you arrived with your order. He tipped his hat at you and you bowed at him one more time.

And again, Jotaro stopped in his tracks at the feel of his wrist being tugged. Looking down at it, nothing was holding him back. He heard you mutter something and suddenly, the tightness that held him loosened.

He subtly glanced over his shoulder to see you already settled on the seat despite his dirty dishes still on the table. He thought nothing of it other than being content at watching you enjoy lunch and went on with his day.

A server walked up the stairs and Jotaro stopped him before he could enter. “Don’t mind the lady eating at my table. Just take the bowl and clean what needs to be cleaned.”

“B-But sir customers aren’t allowed to,” One firm glare from his eyes cut off whatever the poor guy was about to say. “Noted sir.”

---

It’s been a week since that day and so far, the progress of the shoot has been great.

If you dismissed the number of times you had to ignore the urge to smack your co-star every time he whined about every minor inconvenience, today was productive. Not only were you able to execute your solo scene on your first try, but all the scenes that came with other actors went by smoother than before.

The director wrapped the emotional beach scenes and called it a day. If you recall correctly, the next batch of scenes will take place in some sort of facility since the upcoming scene will feature your character, a scientist specializing in quantum physics, meeting her lover while in the middle of work wanting to patch things up.

However, in the middle of your mini-success, you couldn’t help but think about what Silent Sanctuary did; about why she decided to disobey you and embrace a seemingly random man in the middle of reading his book.

But then your thoughts would further spiral into thinking of the man in the white coat. Why did he look familiar? And… You clutched your chest as you stared at the ceiling. Why do I feel like crying when I think about him again? You shook your head and leaned over to switch off the lamp. Whatever. It’s probably nothing. Just focus on your work.

It took a while for the crew to search for a place to shoot the said scenes. Eventually, they got in contact with one cooperative executive of a research institute within the capital and got their permission to film on their grounds, as long as they didn’t enter prohibited areas and disturb the people doing their jobs.

There were still a couple of paperwork that needed to be done so you were given a bit of time to spend while you waited. You told your manager you wanted to check out a nearby aquarium and what reason could he have to deny you a simple request?

You didn’t know why you wanted to visit an aquarium of all places. Because you liked the ocean but couldn’t see the cute fishes in them? Or was it because of something else like the instinctual tug in your chest?

Your manager didn’t see any problem with your request and brought you to the Sumida Aquarium near the Skytree. He informed you that he’d come back for you in a while and you thanked him for the ride. With that, you went on inside.

After receiving your ticket inside, you fixed the mask you had on and proceeded down the dimmed hallways, sight-seeing the many aquatic life swimming about the area in their glowing tanks with awe. It was fortunate that there were fewer people than you would’ve expected, but you weren’t complaining.

If anything, you were relieved you didn’t have to worry about racking attention from onlooking eyes.

You continued down the dimly lit path underneath the overarching tank that teemed with passing fishes of different sizes and types until you reached what you could assume was the main hall where the aquarium’s biggest tank could be located. “Woah~”

A wide smile grew as you watched a baby whale shark swim by. You stepped closer and placed your hand on the cool surface of the glass, admiring the sheer size of the aquatic creature living its life in this enclosure.

“You’re here again.”

“Hm?” You hummed as you turned to your side, only to widen your eyes as not only did you notice Sanctuary’s fabric stretched out to wrap a random person's wrist, but onto the wrist of the same man in the white coat. “Oh, it’s you! How did I not notice you?”

“Not sure myself. I just felt my wrist get bound out of nowhere and I made an assumption,” he said as he stared at you. “Turns out I was right.”

You cursed under your breath and willed your companion back inside before she could further embarrass you. “By the way,” you started. “I’m sorry for yelling at you at that ramen restaurant. It was entirely rude of me.”

He scoffed. “You just realized?”

“I didn’t know what came over me,” you said. “I don’t know if it was hunger, being tired, or… something else. But I mean it when I say I’m sorry.”

He looked you over and back again at the tank. “Okay then. Apology accepted.”

You beamed. “Really?”

“Do you expect me to make jokes about that?”

“Well no, that was a rhetorical question,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “Gosh, you can be quite the skeptic sometimes.”

“And that’s bad?” You could pick up the smirk from the way he replied.

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “Sometimes.”

For a moment, you and the stranger remained silent and opted to watch the sea life going about their day in the large aquarium before them, sharing the implied mutual agreement to watch them swim by in peace.

Until another large creature came from behind the rock formations and another word of awe slipped past your lips. “Look at that big boy! I didn’t know sting rays were this huge.”

“That’s a female manta ray,” you turn to look at the man who spoke after you. “You could tell because she has no stinger on her tail. It’s female because they’re larger than males as seen as another manta ray swims along her. He has a shorter wingspan and if you observe closely, the smaller ray has those flaps in the pelvic area called claspers, while the bigger manta doesn’t. It’s a way for him to deliver sperm for reproduction.”

You gape at the sudden information he dropped due to your lack of knowledge about rays. “You know your stuff.”

“I’m supposed to. It’s my job,” he diverted his attention back to you. “Marine biologist.”

A drawn-out “oh” was how you responded, and because you wanted to take the chance while he was there, you asked. “If you say so, then say some facts about…” You hummed as you thought about what to ask, and in some part of your brain, you decided on the first and the next. “Clownfishes.”

The man cocked his head and answered with ease. “They’re hermaphrodites. They grow as males but can turn into females when necessary.”

“Jellyfish?”

“There’s a species called Turritopsis dohrnii, or the immortal jellyfish. They can avoid growing old by being able to reverse their biological clock back into a younger stage.”

“Starfish?”

At that, the stranger paused and ruminated over what to say and for a second you thought he’d end up with a blank, but he replied shortly after. “They consume food by extending their stomach out of their mouths and over the digestible parts of their prey like mussels or clams.”

You smiled at the unique knowledge he gave you. “Impressive. Should I contact you every time I spot a funky-looking fish then?”

You were worried for a second thinking he would downplay your lighthearted ask, but a pit in your heart bloomed as the corners of his lips turned up into a small smile. “I doubt I’d pick up. I’m a busy man.”

“You don’t look busy.”

The stranger glanced at you. “On most days.”

At that, you couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. You didn’t know why but it felt right, more so when the other person huffed with his subtle smile still plastered on his face. “Say,” you started. “Do you want some coffee? My treat. Take it as an additional compensation for the ramen drama.”

The man in the white coat tilted his head, thinking, and answered with a curt “Sure.”

---

Jotaro enjoyed this more than he should.

The second his wrist was in a light grip, he knew you were nearby. You arrived, apologized, and thanked him for accepting it. That should be the end of the conversation, but as he watched your eyes glitter in awe at the passing manta ray, he couldn’t help but remark facts about the creature.

Right then, a wave of Deja vu sparked a faint memory in his head just as it did when you first met him; one that presented the interior of a dimmed submarine, a single circular window, and the same student at the rooftop sitting by it.

“It’s a giant manta ray. For a 20-foot-long fish, they have large brains that are developed similarly to bottlenose dolphins and primates… It’s either swimming around the window because it saw itself or it saw you and is curious about you.”

The vision disappeared a second after it played out in his head and the tug in his chest would start to bother him yet again. It wasn’t a bad thing though. If anything, he’d like to share more information if you wanted. And like cascading water, his mind would continue playing out his voice answering with information about the same animals you said, and he’d vocalize them to you.

Clownfish? They’re hermaphrodites. They grow as males but can turn into females when necessary.

Jellyfish? There’s a species called Turritopsis dohrnii, or the immortal jellyfish, and they can evade old age by reversing their biological clock back into its baby polyp stage. It does so by reabsorbing its tentacles and coming to rest as a blob of undifferentiated cells somewhere on the seafloor.

But as you asked about starfish, his mind would answer differently than he would have. “I actually don’t know much about them yet. But I plan to in the future.” And it confused him for a moment because coincidentally, he was in the process of writing a thesis about starfishes like he planned to when he was still in high school.

And god, when you smiled with total admiration for his expertise, butterflies started to flutter inside and he couldn’t hold back the joy he reciprocated upon seeing you this way. This felt… right.

It would be no surprise that when you offered to buy him coffee to further patch up the scene you caused, Jotaro accepted it almost immediately.

Hence here they were in a neighboring cafe with two glasses of caffeinated drinks and plated sandwiches ready to consume on the table. “Oh gosh, we’ve been talking for this long and we still don’t know each other’s names.” You took a sip of your latte and continued. “I’m Y/N L/N. If you’re an avid media watcher, then you might recognize me.”

He tipped his hat. “Kujo Jotaro and no, I don’t have enough spare time to indulge in films.” But you’re familiar regardless and I’m unsure why.

“Not even an hour or two for yourself?” You asked. “You must have at least switched on the TV at least once and seen a movie that interested you.”

He hummed. “If it bothers you that much, then fine. I do watch documentaries and true crime investigations from time to time.”

“There you go,” you said but in the next second, you pondered out loud. “Did I ever star in crime films? I think… maybe? Or was that more of a romance?”

“Star in them?”

You nodded after you took a bite of your food. “I’m an actress hence why I pointed to the filming crew last time, and why I got insulted when you said I merely manned the camera.”

“Oh,” Jotaro said, a hint of warmth now present in his cheeks as he thought back to that moment. “I… misunderstood then. I apologize.”

“You don’t have to. I did more wrong anyways,” you chuckled. “But you don’t mind me asking what crime films you might’ve watched, do you? I’m curious.”

“Well, let’s see…”

And it went on and on from there. For the ever-focused and present Jotaro to get lost in his conversation was a feat on your part. What started from a simple question about what titles he watched spiraled into threads of other similar topics that all piqued his interest.

What he liked more than the thoughtful exchange between two acquaintances was watching you talk with so much passion. There was always something endearing in the way you would go in-depth without being conscious of the other person. Not only did it ease whatever tension he had about needing to talk back, but also gave him relief knowing when it was his turn to share, you won’t mind it one bit.

But the day has to end sometime and you needed to return and prepare, while he had to resume doing his job. You and he walked side-by-side to the entrance and outside the establishment was another person, waiting by the van. “Guess I’ll be taking my leave now.”

Jotaro nodded. Just then, the tightness around his wrist returned and he gazed back at you. “Hey…”

“Hm?”

You opened your mouth, the words nearly leaving you, but you shook your head and dismissed it. “Never mind. It’s nothing important.” Jotaro doubted that but he won’t force you to tell him if you didn’t want to.

He watched you walk ahead, greeting what he assumed was your manager. The person patted you as he slid the door open for you to enter, but before you did, you waved at Jotaro one last time. He removed one hand from his pocket to raise a goodbye gesture back.

The sky dimmed as his watch hit 6:00 and your van drove off into the distance.

He couldn’t help but hope he’d cross paths with you again.

---

A week passed.

The team arrived on the institute’s grounds miraculously on time, prepping everything until the scene was good to go. You got your make-up and outfit done, just some faint skin makeover to give off a more haggard look combined with your formal fit and lab coat, and met up with the male lead and director on the set.

“Alright, for this scene, I need you to follow after Y/N down these halls up to the part where you both end up in the open area here. I want to hear the desperation in your voice as you do so, got it?” Your co-star waved it off and gave a cocky thumbs-up. “Y/N, I need you to portray stressed out, pissed, but also with a hint of yearning when you try to get him off your tail.”

You nodded. Two out of the three emotions were of no problem when dealing with the guy you worked with.

As you got into place, you dismissed the watching eyes of the passing researchers and focused on the task at hand. Being the center of attention wasn’t anything new. I got this.

“And action!”

You moved at a brisk pace, filing through the many papers on your clipboard as you tried to ignore the pleas of the other lead. Behind the two of them, the cameras followed the duo through the hallways, walking past the background people without breaking away from the actors.

At the ending point, his character grabbed your arm and you react violently, yelling at him that your character needed to be left alone, only to proceed to talk about doing all of these jobs for him and the possibility of a future with them in it.

“Cut!” Immediately, you sighed and stepped out of character. “Y/N, you’re doing phenomenal with the frustrated rage you were letting out, but we need a bit more of the sad, longing aspect to your dialogue. Get emotional and tear up for effect. Or else, the audience might think you’re purely pissed at the guy for disturbing your job.”

You responded with a simple “got it”, however, as you re-took the scene again and again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to get emotional when the man you are responding to wanted to make you roast the living shit out of him. It was unprofessional but with the way he acted ever since the start of the project, you wanted to rip his eyes out and call it quits.

“Y/N,” the director said. “I know you’re co-star is making this hard for all of us, but if we want this scene to be over, you need to express better and give me that release the movie needs.”

You held back a groan and answered an honest “I’ll do my best.”

“Take 5! And action!”

At the click of the clapperboard, you re-did your steps down the halls with your clipboard in hand. “Ayumi, please hear me out! You don’t have to do this!” Cried Isamu but it all fell on deaf ears as you continued to ignore him.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“How often do I have to tell you to leave me alone?!” You yell back, eyes still focused on the papers. “I need to finish this and you’re not helping!”

“Then let me at least try! Please, we need to talk!”

“There’s no point! You intervening will just make things worse!”

Both of you stepped outside and just as you were about to make a run, he grabbed your arm and held you back. You whipped your head back at him, staring at him with furrowed brows. “Why won’t you let me try? Do you hate me that much?”

This was the scene. You had to cry out to him with all the yearning you had, and you tried to find some way to bring such emotions out. You drew out the scene, trying to improvise a speechless act as you looked for ways to tear up.

One look in the corner of your eye and you found Jotaro watching you intently among the background researchers mumbling among themselves. He was stoic as ever, posture lax yet poised with his hands in his pockets, but there was something in the way he watched you that slipped past his stone-like expression. He had his brows furrowed and his lips tight as he never broke eye contact with you.

Your heart started to ache and you were reminded of the man in your dreams, but rather than the vision of him dead, your mind flashed glimpses of the stranger when he was alive. All of them were from your perspective and every one of them was like a memoir of two lovers- flashes of school uniforms and lunches, oceans and sunsets, a joyous wedding, and a budding family.

Were these… Your eyes swelled with tears. My life?

But you realized you were still on set and with the appropriate emotion, you said your lines. “Because I did!” You cried. “I did let you try but every time I let you back in… every time I let myself fall for you again, you die all over again. You don’t know how many times I’ve seen you die.”

“I’m doing all that I can, including putting all my goddamn efforts into this machine, just so I can save what we have.” You continued to sob, pulling away from his hold. You were meant to stare far off into the distance, away from your co-star, but your gaze drifted off to Jotaro instead.

“I promised I’d find you again in another universe but this time when I do, I’ll make sure we’ll never have to suffer the same fate as before.” Finishing that line, you tore away from the biologist’s gaze and back to Isamu with tired, puffy eyes. “So please, let me go and leave me be now you know what’s best for us.”

Isamu said nothing and dropped his hand in defeat.

“And cut! Y/N, that was amazing!” the director clapped his hands and slapped your back. You sniffled and let out an awkward chuckle. “See? I knew you had it in you! I expected nothing less from such a talented actress.”

“Yeah…” You tried to look past him and onto the watching crowd, trying to spot a certain blue-eyed man among the crowd. “Thanks…”

True to his words, the director wrapped up the shooting and applauded everyone with an enthusiastic good job. The crew patted themselves on the back and began to pack everything up, your co-star had already left beforehand as you would’ve expected, and your manager handed you a padded jacket and a steaming cup of coffee. “Took you long enough to get into the mood.”

But you didn’t answer as you kept searching among the moving crowd for his specific white coat and unique hat, but all you saw were the black shirts of the filming crew and the standard white coats of the other researchers that just happened to pass by. Why did you watch me like that? Your chest ached out of the blue and you grew restless. Were you there or did I just imagine you?

“Earth to Y/N-san! It’s about to rain!” You blinked yourself back into reality as you felt a droplet land on your nose. You swallowed and bowed your head in apology to which your manager simply waved it off. “It’s fine, let’s just head back inside.”

You said your farewells to the team as you stepped into a changing room to switch your formal wardrobe with a more casual fit, and after smoothing out your blouse and skirt, you headed to the nearby mirror to make sure your face was free of the make-up from earlier.

One look at your reflection and you stared at yourself with bewilderment, a hand coming up to rake through your hair. “What the hell was that?” You often took pride in your ability to immerse into the scene, be one with your character, and display the intended emotion, but for the first time, whatever it was that you felt- that surge of nostalgia and longing- was real.

Now came into question whether spotting him on the sidelines caused this or was it these emotions that triggered your brain to hallucinate the marine biologist watching you close by as a means of projection.

You shook your head and patted your cheeks. “You’re making this a big deal. It’s probably nothing.”

“Y/N-san! Do you need a ride back? Or do you have other plans?” Your manager said.

“I’ll go home by myself! You can go ahead!”

Pushing past your confused thoughts, you fetched your bag and made your way to the building’s entrance. Walking past the glass doors, the downpour hindered you from going any further. You opened your tote and rummaged around for an umbrella, only for panic to grow as you couldn’t find any.

“L/N-san.” You perked at the voice calling out to you. With one look over your shoulder, you widened your eyes as Jotaro approached you with an unreadable expression. “Looking for something?”

“Kujo-ssi,” you said, cheeks growing warm. “A-Ah yeah. An umbrella actually but I don’t think I brought it with me.”

It was a matter of time until he stopped a few feet away from you. “Here.” You paused and drifted your sight to the closed gray umbrella.

Heat crept up your face as you made a move to grab it with hesitation. “Aren’t you going to need it?”

He shook his head. “I have a spare one.”

You nodded, still dubious, and took the umbrella off his hand. You opened it and took one step forward, only to pause and look to your side and saw Jotaro still standing in place, not making any move to bring out the so-called “spare” from his satchel. He caught you looking and raised a brow in question.

“You don’t have one more, do you?”

He didn’t reply for a solid second, only to clear his throat instead. “I do.”

Sure you do. “Are you busy later?”

Jotaro cocked his head and turned to you. “Why do you ask?”

“Want to get some coffee?” You asked with warm cheeks. “But if you’re busy then it’s fine.”

“Sure,” he said as he glanced at his watch. “I need some caffeine for the late-night meeting. I might as well.”

In an instant, you smiled with relief. “That’s great because now I can do this,” you said as you gestured for the marine biologist to come closer which he did, surprisingly. With him close, you stretched your arm and lifted his umbrella to cover them both. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty over accidentally stealing your stuff. We can walk to the cafe together like this.”

Jotaro huffed with a small smile. “Walk? I can drive us there. If you want, I can also take you to your hotel once we’re finished.”

Your heated face never ceased despite the chilly breeze from the rain. “We still need to get to your car from the parking lot outside so…” You bit your lip. “Walking is technically still part of the journey.”

For the first time since you met him, Jotaro chuckled softly. “I guess it is. And by the way,” he took the stem of his umbrella and held it up higher than you did with ease. “You’re too short to keep us both dry.”

You pouted at his remark. “You could’ve offered earl-”

“We better head there now,” Jotaro said, cutting you mid-sentence. “The nearest cafe is going to close in 30 minutes.”

“Rude,” you moved closer to him as the two of you stepped into the rain. “Now you owe me that ride home.”

“For reminding you?”

“For cutting me off. Thou shall not cut me off mid-speech, understood?”

Jotaro smiled and shook his head. “Good grief.”

---

It was all history from that point moving forward.

One coffee out turned into another hangout, and ever since then, both would frequently find each other despite your hectic schedules, and every time, they’d find an excuse to stay for a bit longer.

Something that started from a simple date at a restaurant spiraled into a sightseeing trip around the rural landscapes of the capital. Once what was a quick exchange of formality between acquaintances, shifted into casual banter between close friends. You even got to meet his sweet mother for tea.

Eventually, somewhere in the middle, you kissed him one fateful evening and he kissed back.

And that would be the last meeting you got with the biologist before he set off to sea to accomplish an on-site dive for a study.

Time seemed to pass faster than usual. You can still remember when you acted out your first scene in Tokyo months ago and here you were now- about to wrap up the last scene to film before sending the footage to the editing department. Everyone in the filming crew cheered among themselves and thanked you for the work you’ve put into the project, complete with a bouquet and a snack truck with your name and image plastered all over.

Even as your manager patted you on the back and offered his “good jobs” and compliments, you could only think of sharing your accomplishments with Jotaro, wanting to huddle close and talk about what was to come next for a leading star. At the same time, he would hold you in his arms as he listened.

But all you could do for now was send a text message for him to read in hopes he would open them when he’s no longer busy. And so you were left by yourself, lost in thoughts and dreams about your repeated visions that stormed your mind. Up to now, you couldn’t remember the name you uttered at the end.

Of the man you held as you died in what appeared to be a past life.

To celebrate the success of the shoot, the director hosted a party a week after where everyone involved in the movie was invited and have a well-earned good time. And you did enjoy your time there; you got to eat a buffet-worth of food, drink as much as you could without getting drunk, and get into wild conversations with the other actors about what their acting experiences were doing this film.

It was only as you were about to head into the van your manager drove did the news arrive. It blared on a skyscraper’s big screen announcing a freak accident that occurred to a research vessel that sent a certain marine biologist into the hospital in critical condition.

Dread poured over you instantly, your heart falling into a deep void as it feared the worst.

Whatever you intended to do that night flew out the window as you told your manager to drive you to the hospital mentioned in the news, and noticing the panic in your voice, he didn’t bother to question you and did what you told him to do.

You bolted out of the vehicle the second it stopped in front of the building’s glass doors. You made a beeline to the nurse’s station and asked where he was, growing frustrated when she told you guests weren’t allowed to visit no matter how many times you tried to tell her he was your boyfriend.

Your efforts were dismissed and all you could do was sit on one of the many chairs in the waiting area, head in your hands as you did your best not to break into hysterics. Your manager stayed put and not knowing how to comfort you properly, he stroked your back in silent reassurance.

From the outside looking in, you shouldn’t be feeling such extreme emotions for someone who you recently met and dated within a short amount of time. Being upset at a loved one’s threatened health is normal, but this was something that hurt you more than it did anyone else.

It was visceral. It induced a gnawing guilt that began to consume you from the core and you didn’t know how to process that when you shouldn’t be feeling such emotion when you didn’t do anything to earn it.

Hours passed and you remained seated even as your manager politely left an hour ago. By some blessing made by whatever greater deity was there, an equally distraught Holly found you in tears upon hearing the news, and with the loving touch of a mother, she wrapped you in a warm embrace and you did the same.

She led you to where her son’s room was and upon entering through the door, you bit your lip as the tears began to swell in your eyes seeing your lover’s current condition- unconscious and bandaged heavily on one side of his face with an oxygen mask fixed on his face.

Knowing you, Holly gently encouraged you to sit by his side and gave you ample time to stay with him alone before leaving the room, closing the door with a soft click.

You let out a shaky exhale as you gently reached for his hand, bringing it to your lips to kiss the knuckles and enclosing it with your other hand. “Why am I hurting this much?” You muttered. “I’ve known you for months and yet it feels like years. I feel like I’m going to die seeing you like this.”

You held his hand tight as you laid your forehead on it, praying for him to wake as soon as he could. Little did you know, you slept throughout the night in this dim hospital room still in the outfit you wore from the party.

And then you were in that dream once more, witnessing the rushing waves and moving skies yet again. However, you were an active viewer of the experience and with your conscious dream state, you looked over at the fallen allies lying on the ocean surface, and in front of you was… him.

You couldn’t be more stupid when you didn’t recognize him at first glance, but as if the veil had been removed, you saw his face in clear daylight.

All those visages of high school up to marriage were with him and only him. You knew now the last piece of the puzzle. His name.

The man in the white coat and ripped hat.

“Jotaro.”

---

He was drowning.

Jotaro couldn’t even bring it in himself to do anything as he let the sea drag him to the depths. Perhaps, this dream made sense considering what had happened during his recent dive: It happened underwater, his face got cut against a rocky wall of jagged edges, and he became unconscious.

But this felt different as if this dream was a disjointed memory that wasn’t his but it was at the same time.

He wasn’t wearing the diving gear he’d usually use, but a purple coat with gold accents and a ripped hat that had the same color as his fit. He was blind in one eye as he had expected and with his functioning eye, he watched as red trailed up from his gash.

Was this vision a sign that he was simply going to drown for the rest of his life? And why did he feel guilt when no one was involved but himself?

Jotaro should be doing something to get out of this situation, swimming to the surface and taking a breath, but he felt numb as if he was stuck in a cold paralysis. He wasn’t in control of his body but he could sense the dull pain and fatigue putting him in this bind.

‘I see how it is…” He stopped resisting and let his eyes close, accepting that this was his fate.

But a sudden warmth came to him in a heartbeat. Muffled by the water, a gentle chime of a music box strung itself for Jotaro to hear. ‘What… was this?’ Then there was that familiar tightness wrapped around his wrist that led to him opening his eyes.

And there you were, your hand holding his wrist.

There was fondness dripping from the way you looked at him, a sad smile gracing your features even as you let yourself be engulfed in the cold water alongside him.

No words were said as you swam closer to him, reaching forward to cup his cheek with your free hand, and even amid the watery void, seeing the surface become out of reach, Jotaro smiled as he moved his hand to engulf yours. On both yours and his hands, a wedding ring adorned your ring fingers and it was this moment, he realized.

‘It was you.’

He pulled you to him and wrapped you in a warm embrace, burying his face on your shoulder. You did the same as you held him tight.

And now, even as they sink to the darkest depths of the abyss, he won’t be alone. At least they had each other and that’s all he needed.

---

You wake with tears rolling in your eyes and with your sudden realization, you shot upright and turned to Jotaro sitting up as well, with a hand gently touching his affected face with the bandages that covered it undone and on his lap.

“Jotaro-ssi…” He paused and shifted his attention to you, slowly lowering his hand to reveal the aftermath of his accident.

It was the exact injury you constantly saw in your dreams; the same vertical scar that ran down the right side of his face with the injured eye now dull and glassy. It’s really you. You hid your mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle a sob. “You’re awake.”

“Y/N…”

Through a blurred vision, you looked at him as he grazed your hand with his. Without hesitation, you held it tight and brought his palm to your lips. He huffed, hearing the smile as he did. With a gentle caress of his thumb on your cheek, he said.

“I found you.”

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2024: 3 Tempest

She really wasn't sure why she had returned here.

The city stretched out below, dim in the murk of the depths. The glimpses of brightness she had seen through the windows of another facsimile came to mind, and she wondered if those chambers were as faithfully recreated.

An hour of navigating through the elevators and ghostly streets later, she used her special access to reach the chambers where in the original time and place, the Convocation had met.

Like the rest of this recreation, it was darker and dimmer than she knew it had once been, the warm colors of the stone cooled this far below.

The last time she had stood in this building, the Emissary had worn a friend's face, his grief and rage pointed at her because he could not remember anything but his weary pain. He could not remember Azem. He could not remember her.

Then there was the sorcerer who had recreated all this to begin with, a manifestation of his own nostalgia and grief, an attempt to connect with someone he convinced himself was too broken, only seeing the past and not the present.

And of course there was the stern, strict Speaker, who she had known as a manic foe, who had caused such horror and pain to her and her friends that even now she couldn't let it go, let alone forgive him.

And yet.

She sat in the chamber and tried to make sense of the roiling emotions in her heart. Of what she had felt encountering them in the past—she could have called them friends, or at least allies. Once upon a time.

Perhaps that was it. She grieved for the men they had once been, knowing first what they had become, the only way any of this could end and wishing now that it could be different.

Their actions, both terrible and good, had culminated in her saving the world. Which was all they had really wanted, after all. Even if in a different way.

One day this aether would fade, and the waters rush back in to fill the valley. Perhaps when that other sea finally finished washing away the long memories of its creator, granting him and his comrades that final rest and eventual rebirth. Peace for them, after so many centuries.

She did not have so long, to quell the confusing storm their combats and camaraderie had left in her. They would always be with her, like it or not.

[eyebawll]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 [𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑] [𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏]

First Supernatural fic! A little short (in my standards), may conjure up another part if it goes well. This takes place just shortly after Sam gets his soul back and he's still coping.

SUMMARY: Y/N is a well renowned hunter who keeps to herself. After losing her sister (among many other family members) during a hunt to a devastating monster, she locks herself in for good with nothing but rage pumping through her veins.

It's rumored she holds a weapon that, besides the colt, can kill anything. It's become a big deal in the past, many hunters trying to take it for themselves, only to be cursed, injured or even dead in the process. That was until it was revealed who had given it to Y/N.

What will happen when she runs into the Winchester brothers during a hunt for the very thing that has destroyed her family?

Written in third person, female!reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ

Very novel-esque writing. i'm sorry. i got carried away

ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ: 4,390

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

The forest lay draped in an eternal shroud of darkness, the silvery glow of the moon casting faint, ghostly beams that struggled to penetrate the dense web of ancient trees. The atmosphere was thick with an otherworldly chill, the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Tall, gnarled trunks rose like skeletal sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the heavens in silent supplication.

Eerie whispers, like faint echoes from another realm, seemed to drift on the breeze. Soft susurrations carried the promise of secrets, secrets that the forest had guarded for centuries. These spectral utterances mingled with the rustle of leaves and the faint creaking of branches, creating a symphony of sound that was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

Amid this haunting tapestry of shadows and whispers, a lone figure moved with a desperate urgency. A slim young woman, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as her heart pounded in sync with the frantic rhythm of her footsteps. The ground beneath her seemed to tremble with her every stride, her bare feet sore from each scratch and scrape from twigs, rocks and leaves underneath, each footfall a desperate plea for escape.

The forest's inhabitants—creatures of the night and unseen beings—watched from their hidden sanctuaries, their eyes glinting with a luminescence. Yet, none could compare to the ominous presence that stalked the innocent woman.

In the ethereal twilight, illusions took shape like phantoms conjured from the darkest recesses of the mind. The voices of fellow hunters, once allies and friends, one even her own older sister, twisted and distorted into a chorus of accusation and betrayal. Their spectral forms advanced with a relentless determination, a parade of torment born from her own insecurities.

"Disgusting!"

"You're not strong enough! You don't belong with us!"

"You never did!"

"YOU ONLY HOLD US BACK!"

Countless insults and howls, hurls of venom and anger were thrown at the woman. As she sprinted through the labyrinthine woods, the cacophony of voices swirled around her like a tempest. The shadows themselves seemed to coil and writhe, mirroring her inner turmoil. But amidst the maelstrom of chaos, one face emerged from the torment—Y/N.

Y/N's expression was a mosaic of sorrow and anger, anger for all of this to be happening, anger for her sister as this creature manipulates her. Her eyes twin beacons of hope in the encroaching darkness. "Emily, Emily!" The voice behind her cried, far different from the others, "It's not real! Fight it!"

Emily turned around to face the direction of her sister's yells, her body jerking slightly with her movement as she catches a glimpse of Y/N, running with her arm reaching out to her. Quickly, she turned back, hopping over a large boulder she would have tripped over. Panic pumped through her veins, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst out of her chest.

Amid the twisted labyrinth of trees, Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she closed in on her sister. Her footsteps were swift and quick as if she drifted through the air, each one a prayer to reach Emily in time, to pull her back from the precipice of the consuming darkness. Emily's breath came in ragged gasps, her panicked sobs echoing like haunting melodies of a woman in white through the shadows drenching the forest.

"Emily! Emily, it's me!" Y/N yelled once more, a lifeline of vague comfort in the midst of it all. Her arms stretched out, fingers yearning to grasp onto the fleeting fabrics of the younger woman's clothing. Emily's movements were wild and uncontrolled, her form swaying as if caught in a cruel dance with harsh winds.

Their eyes locked, and Y/N's heart shattered at the sight of the expression on the face of her other half. "Emily, please, look at me. You're not alone. I'm right here." Her voice trembled with a potent blend of fear and nausea, a plea for Emily to recognize how real she is and how fake everything else is.

Emily's cries were a symphony of agony, tears streaking her dirt-stained cheeks. "Y/N, make it stop! Make it stop, please!" Her voice cracked. She reached out with trembling hands, fingers brushing Y/N's arm as if seeking refuge from the torment that consumed her.

Y/N's heart bled as she closed the final distance, her arms enfolding Emily in an embrace. She could feel the violent tremors that wracked her sister's body, the very essence of her being gripped by a bitter chill. "I'm here, Emily. I won't let it take you," Y/N whispered fiercely, her lips brushing against Emily's sweat-dampened forehead.

Yet, even as Y/N held onto her sister, a sinister current coursed through the air. The shadows seemed to thicken, a malevolent presence looming ever closer. Emily's cries escalated into agonized screams, her body convulsing with the force of the darkness that sought to claim her. Y/N's heart raced, every fiber of her being consumed by a profound and paralyzing fear.

As Emily's eyes met Y/N's, a chilling realization dawned – the vibrant blue that had once sparkled with life was fading, eclipsed by an encroaching grayness that spread like tendrils of frost. Y/N's grip tightened, her own voice trembling with a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Emily, fight it! Hold on!"

Emily's voice wavered, words barely audible through the guttural moans that tore from her lips. "It's so cold, Y/N. Everything's so cold...so dark. Make it stop, please..." Her voice trailed off into a pained whimper, the shadows swallowing her words and leaving only the haunting echo of her suffering.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Emily's clammy skin, the chill of the shadows seeping into her very soul. With every ounce of strength she possessed, Y/N fought against the consuming void, her voice a soothing murmur. "I won't let it take you, dammit!" Anger boiled inside, "Get the hell off of her!"

Just as the darkness threatened to claim Emily completely, a distant rustling broke through the sound of struggle. Y/N's heart leaped as figures emerged from the shadows—the real, other hunters, their expressions etched with concern. They had followed Y/N's trail of yells and cries, arriving in the nick of time.

Y/N's voice trembled, a mild wave of relief as she sees the others. "Help her! We need to help her!" The hunters rushed forward, their hands reaching out to lend their strength. Together, they formed a shield against the darkness, a defiant stance against the malevolent force that sought to tear Emily from their grasp.

Emily's cries and convulsions intensified, her body wracked by spasms as the battle raged within her. Her hair was etched in a misty black, while her clothing was oozing with the same. Y/N's heart ached as she held onto her sister, her voice a fervent plea as she looked to the heavens. "Please, don't let her go! Not like this!" She sobbed. She held Emily tight, rocking her back and forth. She had lost so much, most of her family was already dead or turned. She'd barely consider other hunters as anything more than allies. She was terrified of becoming too attached.

And this is exactly why.

Silence. No movement, no cries, she didn't even breathe. Emily's petite figure went cold and limp in her big sister's arms, a shriek tearing through the cold air.

"EMILY!"

The veil of unconsciousness lifted, tearing Y/N from the depths of sleep into a realm of disorienting wakefulness. In an instant, her senses snapped to attention, an electric surge of panic and anxiety coursing through her veins. With a sudden jolt, she sat up, her chest heaving as if she had finished running a marathon. The room around her was shrouded in sunlight pooling in through the old vintage curtains.

A strangled cry forced itself through her lips, a raw and primal sound that echoed through the empty walls. It was a cry born of a terror she couldn't quite grasp. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blankets below her hands, huffing.

Heartbeats drummed in her ears, a relentless rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her thoughts. The sweat-soaked tendrils of her hair clung to her forehead. She drew in ragged breaths, each inhalation a desperate attempt to bridge the gap between the dream and the waking world.

Tears blurred her vision, the remnants of her subconscious torment mingling with the harsh reality of her surroundings. It took precious moments for the room to come into focus, the familiar contours of furniture and shadows coalescing into a semblance of order. Yet, even as the nightmare's grip loosened, a residual ache settled deep within her chest.

"Emily..." The word escaped her lips in a choked whisper, a tremor of grief lacing her voice. The name hung heavy in the air, a fragile thread connecting the terror of her dreams to the ache of her waking heart. She clung to the sheets as if they were a lifeline, her fingers curling into fists against the overwhelming flood of emotions.

With a final sigh, Y/N hunched over with her head down. Her eyes shut, a tear falling into her lap, the drop being absorbed by the thick comforter snug tight over her legs. 

Mornings were never easy for Y/N. Each new day dawned as a reminder of the relentless challenges she faced, a testament to her resilience in the face of an unforgiving life. Even on her days off, a lingering unease nestled itself within the corners of her mind, stuck unto the wonders of impending danger. The cocoon of security she had woven around herself provided a shield, but it could never quite dispel the remaining possibility of danger.

She went about her normal daily routine. Eat, bathe, study—it was a day-today cycle she'd repeat without fail. The steady rhythm of these activities became her anchor, a lifeline that kept her tethered to a semblance of normalcy she lacked during her teen hood.

The simple act of nourishing herself felt like a small victory. The warm water during her shower offered a brief reprieve, a blanket of warmth throughout her entire figure. It was possibly the only place she could ever truly let her guard down—ignoring the many knives and handguns tucked away in every corner and crevice. And when she immersed herself in her studies of the unknown, her mind was at ease, eager to learn more like an intelligent child at their elite school.

She'd decided to take a bath that morning. The sound of the faucet turning on was a familiar symphony, the rushing of water a comforting melody that eased her eardrums. The room soon filled with the gentle hiss and gurgle of water as it flowed, a lullaby of sorts to her senses.

As steam gradually wafted through the air, tendrils of warmth caressed her skin. With each passing second, the room transformed into a retreat, the steam swirling like ethereal wisps that danced in the air. She undressed with a easeful grace, each garment slipping off her body and pooling onto the floor in a crumpled heap. The clothing, once a shield against the world's harshness, now lay forgotten as Y/N stepped out of its confines. The act of disrobing was more than a physical shedding; it was a ritualistic release, a shedding of layers that went beyond mere fabric. Each piece of clothing fell away, like a separate piece of heavy armor.

With a swift step, Y/N stepped into the tub. The warm water greeted her like an old friend, pooling around her calves. A sigh escaped her lips as she settled into the depths, the water rising to envelop her in its comforting embrace. Her mind was clouded with bliss, the weight of the stress not yet touching her core.

The water cocooned her body, its warmth seeping into her very bones as she closed her eyes. With each breath, she felt herself surrendering to the serenity of the moment, the rhythmic ebb and flow of her surroundings lulling her into a state of an addictive detachment.

The world beyond the bathroom door seemed distant, the sounds of the day muffled by the sanctuary she had created.

With ease, her fingers trailed along her arms, the soft glide of her touch a soothing ritual that whispered of self-care. The steam-kissed air enveloped her, carrying with it the subtle scent of her favorite from the bath salts that had dissolved into the water. As she reclined against the porcelain expanse, her muscles gradually surrendered their tension, each fiber yielding to the tender persuasion of the tranquil waters.

Slowly, Y/N's legs found themselves lifting, her knees bending as she settled into the contours of the tub. Her feet, once grounded on the porcelain floor, now found their resting place on the opposite end. The gentle swish of water accompanied her movements, a loving chorus that serenaded her senses.

Closing her eyes once more, Y/N let her head rest against the cool edge of the tub, a small sigh escaping her lips. Her mind now ebbed and flowed like the gentle ripples that lapped against her skin. The warmth enveloped her limbs, cradling each contour similar to her mother cradling her very essence in her tender hold from when she was a young child.

Her fingers dipped below the surface, the gentle tug of water playing a delicate dance with her touch. She traced the outlines of her own hands, the pathways of her palms etching stories of resilience and strength from each hunt, each death and heartbreak. The subtle currents tugged at her fingers, a gentle reminder that life was ever-present, a force that moved in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Minutes slipped through her grasp like grains of sand, a fluid passage of time that seemed to stretch and contract with each breath. Y/N allowed herself to linger in the embrace of the bath, the world beyond the bathroom door fading into the periphery as the symphony of her senses took center stage.

As the soft glow of midday sunlight danced through the window, casting a warm embrace upon the room, Y/N's attention gravitated towards the sprawling tome that lay open before her. However, the once discerning gaze of the seasoned hunter seemed to drift, lost in the labyrinth of printed words that now merged into an abstract mosaic, their essence slipping through the sieve of her distracted thoughts. Within the confines of her mind, conflicting currents clashed - the steadfast determination that usually defined her, and an unsettling undercurrent of restless uncertainty.

Amidst the encroaching mental haze, a sharp ring pierced the air, jolting Y/N from her reverie. Swift and purposeful, she retrieved the phone and pressed it to her ear, her voice shaking from the startling event. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end carried an air of authority, a trusted hunter's tone that brooked no pleasantries. "Y/N," the voice began, a solemn cadence that bore the weight of urgency. "Got a case for you."

Y/N's eyes remained fixed on the open book, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the pages, a rhythmic dance of distraction. "Mirian," she acknowledged, a blend of reverence and intrigue imbued in her tone. The name held weight, signifying that when the hunter spoke, it was time to heed.

"There've been incidents," the hunter continued, unfolding a tale of unsettling attacks that painted a somber tableau. "Looks like the Chimera's up to its old tricks again."

A shiver coursed through Y/N's spine, a subtle reaction that betrayed the gravity of the name. Memories of past encounters surged forth like specters, a haunting tapestry of battles fought and won against this formidable adversary. Especially Emily's death. Mirian’s words wove a narrative of danger and enigma, a reminder of the stakes at play.

Her responses remained poised, a veneer of calm that masked the storm beneath. "I understand," she murmured, her gaze breaking free from the book to meet the world outside the window. "And where did everything taken place?"

Location after location was recited by the older hunter, each name etching a somber mark on the canvas of Y/N's consciousness. She absorbed the information with a hunter's precision, each detail a clue to decipher, a thread to weave into a strategy. As the conversation progressed, an immediate plan unfurled in her mind, a mosaic of tactics and resolve that began to map out her forthcoming endeavors.

"Understood," Y/N finally affirmed, her voice a testament to her unwavering commitment to the task ahead. "I'll take it from here."

The unknown hunter's approval resonated through the line, a nod of satisfaction that lingered in the air. "Good. Other hunters are staying away from this one. Leaving it to you. Be vigilant, Y/N. Take it down for good."

The call ended, leaving Y/N alone with her ruminations once more. Her gaze returned to the open book, yet now, the printed words seemed to regain their clarity, each letter a beacon guiding her purpose. With a heavy sigh, Y/N shut the book, standing herself tall. Her gaze settled on the ancient leather-bound tome, its pages brimming with secrets of old, a knowledge bank she had accumulated over the years. With a decisive nod, she turned away, her steps carrying her towards the intricately carved wooden desk where her arsenal awaited.

Quickly, Y/N began to gather her essentials. She retrieved a leather-bound notebook, its pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams of past encounters. A sense of reverence accompanied each turn of the pages, a reminder of the blood swear and tears put into every hunt. Beside it lay an assortment of vials, each containing concoctions brewed from rare ingredients, tailored to counteract the unique attributes of queer entities.

Her attention shifted to the polished surface of the desk, where an array of weapons gleamed in the subdued light. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of a knife, its blade etched with protective runes to enhance its efficacy. A revolver lay nearby, silver bullets meticulously loaded.

Yet, the centerpiece of her arsenal rested against the desk's corner—a sickle of exquisite craftsmanship. The black handle was adorned with intricate patterns and symbols, a labyrinth of gold engravings that seemed to dance in the faint light. The handle fit perfectly in her hand, a natural extension of her unequaled wrath. The blade itself gleamed wickedly, a crescent moon of lethal sharpness. Its edge bore the scars of countless battles, slick and sharp—a gift from Death himself.

As Y/N lifted the sickle, a surge of familiarity coursed through her veins. This weapon was an extension of her identity, a manifestation of the strength and purpose that had driven her. Its weight was comforting, grounding her in the face of vengeful intent.

With her arsenal gathered, Y/N slung the duffel over her shoulder and made her way to the doorway. As her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the doorknob, her gaze flickered to a small weapon hanging by the frame. It was a talismanic blade, a last resort concealed within easy reach. The hilt bore sigils of protection, a final safeguard against unexpected threats.

The weight of the sickle at her side was a reminder of her internal hatred, a beacon of hope to finally destroy this Chimera once and for all. Y/N stepped out, shutting the door behind her.

Bobby's house exuded a sense of warmth and home, its well-worn interior serving as a refuge for the trio of hunters seeking respite from the world outside. The worn leather armchairs bore the marks of countless conversations and the shelves lining the walls were crammed with dusty books, relics of knowledge accumulated over decades of hunting. The air was tinged with the aroma of brewing coffee, a constant companion in the dimly lit haven.

Bobby sat hunched over his desk, his calloused fingers deftly dialing a number on his phone. The room seemed to hold its breath as the line connected, and he brought the receiver to his ear. His gruff voice echoed through the room as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

"Hey there, it's Bobby Singer. Listen, I've been hearin' about some strange happenings over in Pinehaven. Yeah, it's that little town off County Road 9. There've been a series of deaths – odd ones. People droppin' dead with no explanation, like they just gave up the ghost." Bobby's brows furrowed as he listened to the voice on the other end, his expression growing increasingly grim.

Sam and Dean Winchester exchanged wary glances, their senses heightened by the heavy atmosphere that had settled over the room. They leaned in, their attention fully captivated by Bobby's conversation.

"You don't say... Well, that sounds like a real mess. Yeah, it's been goin' on for a few weeks now. The victims – they're different ages, different backgrounds. Ain't nothin' connectin' 'em on the surface. And here's the kicker – their bodies are all found with these... bizarre markings carved into 'em. Like some sort of symbol."

Bobby's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and intrigue as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Yeah, I know it sounds like some pagan ritual, but that's where it gets even weirder. There's nothin' in any lore I've come across that matches these symbols. It's like some new kind of nasty is in town."

Sam leaned forward, his brow furrowing in contemplation. "So, what's our next move, Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Sam and Dean before turning his attention back to the call, hanging up. "Look, I've tried gettin' some hunters interested in checkin' it out, but they're all keepin' their distance. Say it's too risky. Hell, even Garth – and you know he's usually up for a wild goose chase – turned it down."

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Well, Garth's got a point. But if it's got you scratching your head, Bobby, it's definitely worth a look."

Bobby nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes. "Damn right, it is. I've got a bad feelin' about this one. We'll head over to Pinehaven, check out the crime scenes, see if we can find any leads."

Sam and Dean exchanged a nod. "You think it could be witches?" Sam asks.

Bobby scratched his scruffy beard in thought, his expression contemplative. "Could be, given the nature of the attacks and the symbols that've been showin' up around town. But we won't jump to conclusions just yet. Gotta gather more information before we start pointin' fingers."

Dean's lips curled into a half-smile, "Well, you know us, Bobby. We're always up for a good ol' witch hunt."

Bobby chuckled, a gruff sound that held a warm combination of amusement and fondness. "Just make sure you don't stir up trouble before you've got solid evidence. Last thing we need is a town full of pitchfork-wielding locals."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We'll be careful, Bobby. Promise."

With a satisfied nod, Bobby clasped his hands together. "Good. Now, gather your gear and hit the road. I'll keep diggin' on my end, see if I can find any lore or references that might give us a clue."

Dean couldn't help but interject with a mischievous grin. "Hey, Bobby, remember that time in Oklahoma when you tried to use a hex bag and ended up with green hair?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as he shot a pointed glare at Dean. "Oh, don't you start with that again, boy. You two idjits were laughin' your heads off, like a couple of hyenas."

Sam smirked, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Come on, Bobby, you gotta admit, you rocked that look."

Bobby let out an exasperated sigh, shaking his head. "Just make sure you boys pack some extra salt. We're dealin' with somethin' that's givin' hunters the heebie-jeebies."

With a shared glance, the two stood, their resolve strengthened. As they gathered their gear and headed for the door, Bobby's voice carried after them, a stern warning. "And no more hex bags, you hear me?"

The echoes of their laughter lingered in the air as they shut the door. As Sam and Dean made their way toward the sleek black Impala, the gravel crunching under their boots, Sam couldn't help but break the silence.

"You really think this case is the real deal? Witches? Haven't seen any Pagan witches lately."

Dean slid his hands into his jacket pockets, casting a sidelong glance at his brother. "Bobby seems to think so. And you know how he is with research."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, you're right."

Dean's expression turned more serious as he locked eyes with his brother. "Just gotta stay sharp, Sammy. If this thing's as nasty as Bobby says, we need to be on our A-game."

Sam's gaze held a mixture of determination and concern. "I know, Dean. But something just doesn't feel right. If a bunch of hunters won't go near that thing, it can't be a witch. They woulda already tackled it by now."

Dean's jaw tightened, his gaze distant for a moment before he met Sam's eyes again. "Yeah, I noticed that too. It's like everyone's walking on eggshells. We'll keep digging. But first, let's focus on finding out what's behind all these deaths and disappearances."

As they slid into the Impala's front seats, the engine roared to life with a familiar rumble. The brothers shared a determined glance before Dean put the car in gear.

[tantive404]

Leia Organa as the Gothic Heroine

“Through a dream landscape, . . . a girl flees in terror and alone amid crumbling castles, antique dungeons, and ghosts who are never really ghosts.

She nearly escapes her terrible persecutors, who seek her out of lust and greed, but is caught; escapes again and is caught; escapes once more and is caught . . . [and] finally breaks free altogether, and is married to the virtuous lover who has all along worked (and suffered equally with her) to save her."

-Leslie A. Fledler, Love and Death in the American Novel

The gothic novel is a genre of literature that has grown increasingly compelling to me. Defined by its mixture of romanticism and horror— or “wonder and terror”, with a “loose literary aesthetic of fear and haunting”— these stories are known for their forbidden castles, ghostly mysteries, and, most centrally, their heroines, fleeing terrified into the night in a flowing white gown…

Over the years the gothic has become a genre dominated by the feminine and by women writers. And even though the first example of gothic literature, Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, was written by a man, the story is largely focused on its heroines. The central plot thread sees a corrupt tyrant prince pursuing a much younger princess for the sake of marriage and her desperate attempts to escape him, as she flees through his castle, through twisted corridors, trap doors, and all manner of danger.

I began to think of the relation between the archetype of gothic heroine and Star Wars’s female lead, Princess Leia Organa. After all, she is typically clad all in white and on the run from a dastardly Imperial villain of some sort. And it would not be so difficult for the Death Star to serve as an old manor, filled with secrets and danger… trap doors (garbage chutes), gaping chasms, masked phantoms (Sith Lords) and terrible, power-hungry old men.

The gothic heroine is a young woman often characterized by her virtue, innocence and beauty. She may be born into a position of high social status, with a wealthy or aristocratic family, or even be full-fledged royalty. Some time early in the story, however, she loses her privilege and power… orphaned, imprisoned, or otherwise inconvenienced. In Ann Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho, for instance, our protagonist Emily St. Aubert lives an idyllic life with her well-to-do parents, only for both to die and her fortune to be lost in the first act, where she is then given into the power of her aunt and eventually her villainous uncle-by-marriage, Montoni. Leia, too, was a happy and beloved child as the Crown Princess of Alderaan, even with the shadow of the Empire looming overhead… but is captured on a fateful mission for the Rebellion and sees her planet destroyed for her troubles.

And while a gothic heroine may be physically frail she has the mental fortitude and agency to be the one who drives the plot forward. Leia, too, subverts being placed the box of “damsel in distress” with her strong will and her active fierce participation in the rebel cause.

The consistent pattern of “escaping and being caught” is another that Leia follows quite clearly throughout the original trilogy… when we first meet her, she is fleeing from her Imperial pursuers, only to be overpowered and captured. She’s taken aboard the Death Star, endures torture, and gets rescued… only for the next movie to involve yet another game of pursuit between her and Vader where she’s eventually caught yet again at Bespin. After another escape, she opens the subsequent film with an attempt to rescue her (not-so) “virtuous lover” from his prison… and she is made a slave. She escapes with her own ingenuity to rejoin the Rebellion, is nearly defeated in the perilous final battle at Endor, but with the help of her allies, wins the day and all is made right. A typical fairy tale ending.

And then there are her villainous persecutors, of which there are primarily three— Vader, Tarkin, and Jabba.

The gothic heroine is often menaced by a powerful man,?usually bearing misogynistic or patronizing sentiments. He is dark and threatening, yet can also be alluring… and the heroine strives to escape his oppressive power. So too with Leia, as representative of the Rebellion, seeking to destroy the oppression of the Empire.

In short, Star Wars is a very melodramatic, archetypal tale, and Leia’s journey both illuminates and subverts that.

[msweebyness]

DuPont School for Monstrous Youths Intro

What's up, ya'll? As you know, I was inspired by Sparky's Creepsters Intro from a while back to make some for our other AU's! Here's the next in the line-up! @artzychic27 @imsparky2002

("Calling All the Monsters" begins to play. The camera shows a wide shot of a gothic palatial school, before lunging forward to zoom up to the building's massive front doors.)

(A human boy with bright green eyes and messy golden hair waves to the audience with a welcoming grin, pushing the doors open and beckoning us to come inside.)

*TITLE CARD: Adrien Agreste: Monster Ally, Human Sunshine*

(The camera swings around to where a cloth girl with pigtails made of yarn and large blue buttons for eyes stumbles to a stop in the hallway, giving the audience a shy wave with one hand and sheepishly clutching her arm with the other.)

*TITLE CARD: Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Voodoo Doll: Clumsy, but cute as a button*

(Marinette jumps before gaining a fond smile as a floating, transparent girl with eerie purple sclera and chains around her limbs phases through a wall to her side. The ghostly girl looks at the audience, winking with a smile as she snaps a picture with her cell.)

*TITLE CARD: Alya Cesaire, Ghost: Paranormal reporter with a spunky spirit*

(Alya bids Marinette a wave goodbye before she finds a green arm on the floor. She picks it up with a fond shake of her head and flies down the hall. We see a POV above Alya's head as she flies, and she stops in a room where several students are dancing. She tosses the arm across the room, and it lands in the outstretched hand of a green-skinned boy covered in stitching, who is operating a set of turntables. He attaches the arm before sending a jolt of electricity into the turntables with a huge grin, kicking the tunes up a notch.)

*TITLE CARD: Nino Lahiffe, Stein Monster: Stitched together to be the life of the party!*

(We hear high, girlish laughter, and Nino sends a jolt of electricity through a cord, which we follow to a large stage, where a set of bright pink curtains opens and reveals a skeletal girl with short blonde hair and a brilliant smile, twirling around as she belts a high note, until one of her hands flies off into the crowd.)

*TITLE CARD: Rose Lavillant, Skeleton: Sunshiney singer with punk rock in her bones!*

(The boney hand is caught by a jet-black bat with a purple streaked lock of hair over its forehead, which then swoops down to the stage, transforming into a tall girl with long black hair and deathly pale skin, who gives Rose a fanged smile before taking up her bass guitar.)

*TITLE CARD: Juleka Couffaine, Vampire: Queen of darkness who's batty on the bass!

(Another bat, this one with teal-streaked bangs swoops into the room with a musical shriek, before landing on the stage beside the two girls and transforming into a boy with a striking resemblance to Juleka, who flashes his own fangs in a grin before playing a deafening riff on his guitar.)

*TITLE CARD: Luka Couffaine, Vampire: Charming and cool vamp who lives to rock!

(Wafts of steam rise up through the floorboards, and we drop downward until we end up in an old-fashioned machine workshop, where a boy made entirely of copper is working on some gadgets at a table surrounded by tools and small parts. His face lights up with a smile as he finally works out an issue with his latest invention. His rocket boots fire up as he goes to show his friends.)

*TITLE CARD: Max Kante, Steam-Powered Robot: Old-fashioned chap with a talent for tech!*

(As Max jets down the hallway, a couple of older students smirk and prepare to trip him up...only to freeze in place as they become marble statues. The camera pans around to a short girl with coral snakes in place of hair, slipping a pair of dark shades back up to cover her reptilian blue eyes.)

*TITLE CARD: Alix Kubdel, Gorgon: Daredevil viper with a stony stare and a serious attitude!*

(A frisbee cuts across the screen, catching Alix's attention. She rolls her eyes as the camera zooms to focus on a tall, muscular boy with furry arms and a wagging wolf tail, panting as he chases after the frisbee, before letting out a loud howl as he jumps into the air.)

*TITLE CARD: Le Chien Kim, Werewolf: Oversized puppy who looks out for his pack!*

(Kim catches the frisbee in his teeth, before the camera follows him racing down the hall towards a large fountain with water so deep you can't see the bottom. As the werewolf approaches, a girl with wavy red hair and scaly blue skin rises from the water, giggling as Kim greets her by affectionately licking her cheek before she gives him a scratch behind the ears.)

*TITLE CARD: Ondine Rivas, Aquatic Monster: Fish out of water with a bubbly personality!*

(A thick cluster of vines covers the screen, before clearing to reveal a beautiful and vibrant greenhouse. The giant monstrous plants are being tended to by a petite girl with thick vines for hair and bright green skin. She hums a sweet song to herself as she waters a plant's roots.)

*TITLE CARD: Mylene Haprele, Plant Monster: Gentle flower child with two green thumbs!*

(Mylene gasps as a stray vine knocks a large flowerpot over a ledge, sending the plant hurtling toward the ground, only for a large gray hand to catch it midair. The camera zooms out to show a huge, burly boy with dark gray skin and forearms covered in white fur. He sets the pot down before looking up at Mylene, his surly expression changing to a gentle smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Ivan Bruel, Yeti: A mountain of a guy with a gentle heart!*

(The scene flashes back to the main hall, which is now filled with a whirlwind of sand, which parts to reveal someone in the center of it. Posing dramatically with her arms raised is a girl with tanned skin wrapped in bandages and adorned with lavish jewelry. She smiles smugly as she now holds everyone's attention.)

*TITLE CARD: Chloe Bourgeois, Mummy: "Mean" Queen of the halls with a softer side under her wraps!*

(Chloe squawks with slight indignation as she's lightly pushed to the side, and ushered towards the classroom by another mummy girl, this one wearing a white beanie and more casual attire, who rolls her eyes fondly at her sister's dramatic antics.)

*TITLE CARD: Zoe Lee, Mummy: Egyptian princess who'll never make you bow!*

(The camera pans back to the massive sand pile, where a girl with messy ginger hair and rotting skin picks up the book bag that Chloe accidentally left behind, shaking her head with fond exasperation as she adjusts her glasses, before heading down the hall with her head buried in a textbook.)

*TITLE CARD: Sabrina Raincomprix, Zombie: Shuffler with some serious BRAAAINS.*

(The camera pans upward and zooms into a cranny to reveal a pile of treasure in a small cave alcove, on top of which a girl with bronze scales and reptilian green eyes sits with a regal poise, using a blunt stone to sharpen her large horns.)

*TITLE CARD: Kagami Tsurugi, Dragon: A regal reptile with a slight hoarding issue!*

(We zoom out of the cave and up to a high tower of the school, where a boy made entirely of granite with shaggy red hair sits, sketching the scene of students walking into the school. His expression is cold and reserved, and his eyes carefully watch for any trouble arising.)

*TITLE CARD: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Gargoyle: Dedicated sentry with a passion for the artistic!*

(Nathaniel's stony expression melts into a soft smile as he sees another boy flying up to his perch. The boy, who has adorably big green eyes and giant grey moth wings, sits next to Nathaniel, taking out his journal as the boyfriends share a quiet moment together.)

*TITLE CARD: Marc Anciel, Moth Monster: Shy and sweet writer who's just a bit jumpy!*

(A loud holler sounds from somewhere below the two, and the camera pans down to show a tall, dark-skinned student with wild curls and thick brown fur on their forearms. With a mighty bound, they leap over the school's high walls, high-fiving several students as they enter the halls.)

*TITLE CARD: Denise Cabello, Sasquatch: Big feet, bigger voice, biggest personality!*

(Denise fondly shakes their head as they watch a boy with messy red hair and a single, large green eye in the center of their forehead bump into a wall of lockers, his head having been buried in something he was doing on his tablet. Looking up, he adjusts his large, single-lens glasses.)

*TITLE CARD: Simon O'Connor, Cyclops: Techie who says one eye is better than two!*

(The scene changes to the school's observatory, where a girl with starry blue skin and silvery pigtails is looking through the large telescope into the sky. She turns to add some notes to the star map she is making.)

*TITLE CARD: Aurore Boreale, Extraterrestrial: Straight A student from a whole different world!*

(Aurore turns and smiles as bright blue ooze begins to rise up from a grate, taking the shape of a girl with tar-like black hair and loose-fitting clothes. With a frown, the girl pulls a few miscellaneous small objects out of her slimy skin.)

*TITLE CARD: Mireille Caquet, Slime Monster: Jiggly and shy sweetheart who leaves a trail behind!*

(The scene changes and the camera is skimming along the high walls of the school, where a girl with bright yellow skin and a pixie cut made of leaping flames is doing impressive parkour stunts, leaping from surface to surface.)

*TITLE CARD: Lacey Greene, Fire Elemental: A real hothead who never turns down a challenge!*

(The screen is covered by a thick velvet curtain, which is then pulled back to show a large stage in the center of the school's vast catacombs. A rousing tune is being played on a massive pipe organ by a ghostly boy with pale purple skin and a bedazzled half mask over the left side of his face.)

*TITLE CARD: Jean DuParc, Phantom: Snazzy spirit with a heart full of song!*

(Jean smiles lovingly at a boy sitting on the body of the pipe organ, listening in content to the song his boyfriend is playing. He wears a long cloak and taps the end of his scythe on the floor to the tempo of the music, before blushing as Jean pulls out a black rose to offer him.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Tomassian, Reaper: Showing us death is nothing to be afraid of!*

(We cut back to a hallway in the school, where a gargoyle boy with badly coiffed blond hair and clad in varying shades of purple is running with a fearful look on his face as he's holding a red cloak. The camera pans behind him and we see a student with dark curls, large horns and hooves in place of feet charging after him with an enraged snort.)

*TITLE CARD: Cosette Bellamy, Minotaur: Run the other way when they're seeing red!*

(The camera pans up to the ceiling, and we see a large collection of massive spider webs, in the center of which sits a girl with six red eyes and six arms. She holds a set of knitting needles in each set of hands.)

*TITLE CARD: Reshma Leghari, Arachnoid: Spider Lady with seriously stylish threads!*

(Reshma hears a purring sound behind her and turns with a smile to see her best friend stretched out on a ledge. Batting a cat toy between his hands, a boy with black cat ears and a feline tail gives the spider girl a cheeky smile.)

*TITLE CARD: Ismael Prisk, Werecat: Snarky kitty with a mind for mischief*

(We change to a shot of two classroom doors. A woman with a flaming ginger hair and mismatched legs knocks on the door, holding the head of a woman with purple hair. A woman's headless body comes to the door, taking the head from the other woman and placing it on her neck, before the two share a laugh.)

*TITLE CARD: Caline Bustier, Empousa & Olga Mendeliev, Headless Horsewoman: DuPont's top teachers and total mama bears*

(A bright ray of light shines in through a stained-glass window, which opens to allow a girl with glowing eyes and flaming wings to fly in, working on sketches for her latest cartoon, a bright smile on her face.)

*TITLE CARD: Ayesha Reynolds, Angel: Ray of sunshine descended from the heavens above!*

(We zoom over to a corner, where a boy with crimson skin and large devil horns sits with his legs crossed in the center of a ring of hellfire, deep in meditation. His eyes suddenly open, giving us a mischievous smirk.)

*TITLE CARD: Anthony Mathis, Daemon: Born to be wicked, but good at heart!*

(The camera zooms in the doors of the front office, where a stack of documents appears to be floating through the room. We hear the sound of fingers snapping, and a girl suddenly appears holding the papers, her limbs translucent at the ends. She goes over and begins filing the papers.)

*TITLE CARD: Dot Waverly, Vanisher: Not always all 'there', but always on top of things!*

(Dot suddenly jumps as a darkly mischievous smile appears before her, rolling her eyes as theatrical laughter fills the room. With a dramatic swoosh of her parasol, a girl dressed in a gothic kimono with three swishing fox tails appears, giving us a playful grin.)

*TITLE CARD: Eri Tanaka, Kitsune: Mischievous Yokai with a love for all things gothic and dramatic!*

(We are transported with a swish of Eri’s tails to the school’s art room, where a student with rainbow-streaked hair and large glasses is firing bolts of color from the iridescent horn on her forehead at a canvas, smiling brightly all the time.)

*TITLE CARD: Petra Markov, Unicorn: One-of-a-kind artist and true free spirit!*

(We are now in the cafeteria, where a group of students are smiling blissfully as a hauntingly beautiful singing voice fills the room. The camera then zooms in on a lovely girl with feathery wings and fish scales along her arms, singing the beauteous melody.)

*TITLE CARD: Evie Balthazar, Siren: Sweet-natured lady who'll enchant you with song!*

(Hearing the sound of hoofbeats, Evie flaps over the window, smiling as she waves and blows a kiss, which is caught by a brawny boy with the lower half of a horse, as he’s sprinting across the school’s courtyard.)

*TITLE CARD: Brecken Sutcliffe, Centaur: Big-hearted country fella who's more horse than cowboy!*

(Some older students are harassing a monster from the younger grades, when suddenly, one of them hears a loud *crunch* right behind their head, turning around to see a short but burly student with a body made entirely of stone glaring at them.)

*TITLE CARD: Roxie Richter, Stone Golem: The most hard-headed person you'll ever meet!*

(The scene transitions to the school’s chemistry lab, where a student with long pointed ears and leathery bat wings combines different chemicals into a vial, giggling enthusiastically as she awaits the reaction to occur.)

*TITLE CARD: Anais Ackerman, Werebat: Nocturnal Brainiac who's batty about chemistry!*

(In another area of the lab, a girl with strawberry blonde curls and mint green skin is stirring a bubbling cauldron as she hums a Hex Girls tune to herself, prepping a spell to help the theater club.)

*TITLE CARD: Candace Fletcher, Witch: A real Hex Girl who'll cast a spell on you...if you give her sufficient reason.*

(The scene transitions to the gym, where a tall and lean boy with orange scaley skin, spiky multicolored hair and blunt horns jumps up to score a slam dunk…only to stumble as he hits the ground again.)

*TITLE CARD: Soo-Yeon Park, Dokkaebi: Anxious bean who's a beast on the casketball court!*

(In another area of the gym, a girl with messy red hair and the lower half of a serpent sits on the bleachers, scrolling through her phone and only looking up to make a snarky (but good-natured) comment about the slip-up.)

*TITLE CARD: Staci Kwan, Naga: A snarky snake who refuses to be charmed.*

(The scene changes to the school’s shop class, where a girl with six pink tentacles and a bright smile is helping move several large stacks of wood, humming a cheerful tune to herself.)

*TITLE CARD: Margo Jorgensen, Kraken: Sweetest caecilian in the seas who will always lend a helping tentacle!*

(The scene moves back to the school’s massive pool, where a girl with messy green hair, scaley green skin and finlike feet is holding a stop watch, barking commands to the swim class she is leading.)

*TITLE CARD: Parker Beauregard, Nixie: Swims to the beat of a military drum!*

(The camera exits the pool just as a girl with pointed ears, wild red curls and rapidly fluttering wings whizzes by on a skateboard with a sharp-toothed grin and her prosthetic leg on display.)

*TITLE CARD: Aggie Findlay, Faerie: Spunky sprite who will punt ableist asses!*

(The camera suddenly goes through the lens of a video camera, ending in the school’s news studio, where a student with eagle-like wings, and the claws and tail of a lion smiles spacily as they operate the camera from their bedazzled wheelchair.)

*TITLE CARD: Mona Truffaut, Gryphon: May be confined to the ground, but their head is in the clouds!*

(The shot changes to a pan down of a huge blackboard, where a girl with shiny wire hair and polished chrome skin, the orifice lines glowing with energy effortlessly solves a complex math problem, before loading the results into her data receptor.)

*TITLE CARD: Eloise Matuidi, Hi-Tech Bot: Mathematical genius with all the latest updates!*

(The students in a nearby hallway nervously avert their eyes, hoping not to catch the attention of a boy with immaculate blonde hair woven with golden snakes. He pauses a moment to send a sharp look to the camera, pulling his pink-lens sunglasses down with a challenging look.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Armbruster, Gorgon: An asp fashionista with a cutting remark at the ready!*

(The hallway suddenly shakes with a deafening shriek, and the present students all shoot annoyed looks at a smirking boy with messy red hair and solid white eyes, who only gives them a smug laugh in return.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Quinlan, Banshee: A temperamental tormented spirit who'll scream the house down!*

(We hear a loud shout of anger and the camera pans over to a boy with hairy hands and large horns, who has just crushed a gaming console in his hands after losing a game…only to pull out another one and start a new game.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Boulet, Troll: Dedicated gamer with a big hidden temper!*

(The school’s pompous principal, M. Damocles, an owl man creature, is walking down the hall and suddenly lets out a loud shout as he steps on a trip wire and slips head over ass in the hallway. The camera pans over to a laughing student with small horns poking out from her curly brown hair, adjusting his red cap with a clawed green hand before taking off down the hall.)

*TITLE CARD: DJ Detweiler, Goblin: Impish prankster who stands up for the little guys!*

(As Damocles gets up with a grumble, the scene transitions to an in-school dance studio, where a muscular boy with a cowl of hair that resembles a rooster’s crest, reptilian eyes and scaley skin performs a flawless pirouette, before readjusting his dark black shades.)

*TITLE CARD: Austin Spinelli, Basilisk: Resident tough guy with a petrifying power, so don't mess with his friends!*

(The camera zooms to the music classroom nextdoor, where a tall student with thick blonde curls, mottled green skin and large fangs belts out a window-shattering high note, smiling shyly as she receives thunderous applause from other students in the room.)

*TITLE CARD: Mindy Blumberg, Ogre: Gentle-natured ogress with a serious passion for song!*

(We transition to a large ramp set up by the school’s pool, where a student with a tall, finlike Mohawk and a shimmering fish tail is about to perform a daring jump in their wheelchair, other students watching in awe as she begins his descent.)

*TITLE CARD: Victoria LeSalle, Mermaid: 'Stuck' with a tail, but not afraid to get dangerous!*

(The camera cuts over to the school’s grand main stairwell, where a girl with wild red curls, and the lower body of a goat slides down the handrail with an excited squeal, landing with a graceful bleat and a bright laugh.)

*TITLE CARD: Lotta Jameson, Satyr: Half-goat, half-girl, all adventurous spirit!*

(From above, Lotta hears a goat-like shriek and looks up with a smile, waving to a girl doing pull-ups from the rafters. The girl has cropped blonde hair that takes a backseat to her large horns, as well as leathery black wings and cloven hooves.)

*TITLE CARD: Gia Griswold, Jersey Devil: Nothing devilish about this military brat but the horns!*

(From underneath a table, a very small student with short red hair and a tall hat steps out, flipping through various notes of incriminating info on the principal on zir phone.)

*TITLE CARD: Rochelle Weams, Gnome: This little gnome knows what's up with everyone!*

(We hear a loud whoop, the camera pans up to the rafters, where a girl with a messy blonde ponytail, reddish-brown fur on her forearms, and large sabertooth tusks swings back and forth, before leaping down with an impressive tuck and roll.)

*TITLE CARD: Kendra Anne Gunderson, Yowie: Audacious Aussie with serious acrobatic skills!*

(The scene changes to a secluded closet of the school, which is filled with shelves loaded to the brim with vials of multicolored sand. A student with short mint green hair and blackened limbs meticulously labels and organizes each container.)

*TITLE CARD: Mason Ewing, Bogey: Super organized but a bit too nervous to get his scare on!*

(The scene transitions to a bog located on the school grounds, the waters beginning to bubble. A tall boy with shaggy red hair, moss-coated skin and a prosthetic leg rises, inspecting a strange object with a technological magnifying glass.)

*TITLE CARD: Gerard Grundler, Swamp Thing: The most brilliant marsh man you'll ever meet!*

(We cut away from the school for a moment, to a nearby human town, where two teens, a fidgeting Hispanic boy and a short and stocky blonde girl are hanging a poster for a monster activism event. A book suddenly hits the boy in the shoulder, prompting the girl to whip around with a fist raised in threat, causing the harassing assholes to scatter.)

*TITLE CARD: Jesse Ortega & Missy Rutherford, Human Allies: Fighting alongside Adrien for monster rights!*

(We flash back to the school, to a hallway where several sets of students are arguing, a few about to fight physically. A girl with ragged black wings and sharp talons laughs as she revels in the chaos she’s caused, babbling nonstop to her compatriots, hidden in the shadows.)

*TITLE CARD: Lila Rossi, Harpy: A devious birdy who lives to cause misery and chaos!*

(Suddenly, Lila is silenced, a hex preventing her from making another sound. Ignoring the harpy's indignant gesturing, a blonde boy wearing a menacing Jack O' Lantern mask appears in the monsters' midst, terrifying them and sending them running, making him smile with malevolent glee.)

*TITLE CARD: Felix Graham de Vanily/Jack O' Ripper: Leader of the Anti-Monster Brigade with a draconic fixation!*

(A sort of toxic gas fills the hallways, making many of the monster students fall to their knees, holding their throats. The camera pans over to a tall and muscular boy, littered with scars and wearing accessories made from monsters he's killed. His smile is cruel and sadistic.)

*TITLE CARD: Lucien Van Helsing, Monster Hunter: The latest in a family line of murderous evil, Felix's right-hand man.*

(The villains yelp in pain as they clutch at their necks, which suddenly have sharp pain shoot through them. They turn and see Marinette, a needle pressed in the side of her neck as her button eyes are glowing, focusing her hoodoo powers on them. Through the pain, Felix manages to teleport them out of there. Marinette's partners hug her proudly, and all the monster students gather in the main hall before turning to the screen for a group shot.)

(A flash of lightning cracks across the screen, revealing the title in gothic, cursive script: "DuPont School for Monstrous Youths".)

Leave your thoughts in the comments and reblogs! Keep an eye out for the final installment!

[christinesficrecs]

Helloo christine! happy holidays i love love love your blog it definitely is a blessing in my life. do u happen to know any good longish fics where stiles saves the hales from kate or even derek from paige’s death. Ive read Daybreak by obsidianquill and starcanopus and im dyyiiinggg i need more. Thanks in advance hope you have a great new year

Hey! Maybe these ones.

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill | 70.3K | Mature

The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Find A Way by LLN3dseestheLight | 25.1K | Mature

Kate Argent came back to Beacon Hills and slaughter the Pack. Only Stiles and Lydia survived for the moment but thanks to Peter Hale they have a way to change that...by doing something very stupid.

A Time Travel spell... If it works... And it does in a way... but it also sent them to another reality as well.

Play It Again by metisket | 63.2K

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

Spook: A Ghostly Love Story in Three Parts by zosofi | 38.1K

Derek is fifteen when he dies. He's been fifteen for six years when he meets Stiles. And then suddenly... suddenly things start looking up.

hope is the thing with feathers by ShanaStoryteller | 28.9K

Stiles is ten when he saves the Hales from their burning home and Derek from a wolfsbane bullet, and this establishes a pattern that seem to continue indefinitely.

Stiles plans are the worst (the best) by Dashar | 88.7K

Stiles world ended when his pack died. It didn’t exactly come as a surprise. He had been running with wolves for so long that within hunters and monsters it was just a matter of time. It was a surprise when the world ended too. And Stiles… Well, he had to do something about that.

When the Smoke Clears by Spikedluv | 15.7K

Beacon Hills is under attack from various supernatural creatures. Most of the town has been burned to the ground, and Stiles has lost everyone he loves. He attempts a time-travel spell even though Deaton has cautioned against it. In the past, he’ll need to save the Hale family so they can protect Beacon Hills. The only questions are, will he make it back in time, and will Talia Hale believe him?

Turn back time by A_pretty_good_pair | 49.7K

There's no one left. No one. Stiles decides in his grief to try and fix everything he did wrong the first time around. Will he be able to save everyone or will he relive the pain of losing them all once again?

One More Again by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere | 22.2K

When a strange man appears in the Hale Pack territory with an unusual proposition for Stiles and Lydia, Stiles is unable to resist going back in time to stop the Hale House fire.

Even after a few bumps in the road, Stiles finds himself in the past with one nearly-insurmountable goal - getting Talia Hale and the rest of her family to trust him with their lives.

Unfettered by Heizpilz | 70.4K

In the morning, Stiles simply doesn’t get up. What would be the point? Everything he cares about – everyone he cares about – is gone. Dead and buried, quite literally. True, there are some people left on the periphery of what was once his life, but he doesn’t give a flying fuck about them.

Now as Ever (All That Is and Has Been) by  venis_envy | 52.2K

Stiles can't remember what happened to rearrange the time-space continuum, or how he ended up being pulled into the past. All he knows is that he's there now, in 2003 Beacon Hills, with a teenage werewolf and a possibly-crazy veterinarian as his only allies.

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

Writeblr Summoning Circle Intro

Patreon (you can join for free btw)

Ao3

Taglist sign-up

Hello and welcome to my shrine place of power writing blog. I'm Ceph, they/them, and despite the ghostly username I am, in fact, a regular human adult with a job, college homework, skin, blood, etc. Video games, houseplants, and buying books faster than I read them are just a few of my hobbies.

I write different flavors of fantasy mostly, with sprinkles of horror and romance/spice thrown in for pizzazz. If you're interested in...

Vampires, werecreatures, necromancers, merfolk, and/or passive-aggressive poltergeists

Resourceful protagonists in terrible peril who sometimes make choices that change things forever, for better or worse

Lovers becoming enemies becoming forced allies and maybe more in some cases

Themes of solidarity, the myriad facets of love, and people fighting for a better future

Slow burns

Worldbuilding that I definitely don't make up on the fly

Mortals becoming deities and vice versa

Telepathic monsters that could devour your soul -OR- become your best friend

Liminal spaces like roadside diners at 3 a.m

...you might find my WIPs tolerable. Possibly even fun.

Follow my sideblogs @dysthanasia-series and/or @the-primrose-path-story to get notifications for new chapters and other neat story-related stuff. Check out @coven-archives to see what I'm reblogging from fellow writers. Or just ask to be put on a taglist for a WIP you're interested in.

I welcome asks, prompts, writblr events (Worldbuilding Wednesday, etc.), and any interactions that lead to transmutating Internet strangers into friends. Do tell me about your characters and lore. I want to devour know all of it. Yes, even the obscure facts that never really make it into the story despite hours of research poured into them. Especially those.

That's pretty much it. Feel free to reblog or like this post or invite me into an object you own at the stroke of midnight if you want me to give a follow.

Below the cut you'll find a list of WIPs and links to read them which will increase my power every time you click one. Content advisories are at the top of each work and chapter.

Apophenia

Genre(s): Urban/Paranormal fantasy, vampires, post-apocalyptic

Status: Redraft in progress

Mermaids don't exist. Every agent of the Coven, the organization that researches and governs the supernatural community, knows that. Accepting a classified assignment to investigate sightings along the Broken Coast is just an easy paycheck as far as Isaac Soto is concerned (not to mention another way to avoid dealing with his trauma and relationship issues).

A chance meeting with a charming stranger in a roadside diner changes not only the course of Isaac's assignment but the trajectory of his life. A life now in danger of being cut short unless he figures out how to escape the bloodborn who takes him hostage, a necromancer out to kill both of them, and the corruption at the heart of the organization he thought he believed in.

The Primrose Path

Genre(s): High fantasy, romance/erotica

Status: Rough draft in progress

When his village is taken captive by an enemy nation, Illuminator Ân's priority is to make sure his people survive to fight another day. Faced with everything he's stood against as a priest of Cyanos, god of light and life, Ân prays for the strength to overcome and do what he must. It's not long before he receives signs that his petitions have been heard. Just not by the deity he serves.

Beyond & Between

Genre(s): High fantasy, portal fantasy, whump

Status: Occasional, out-of-order updates

Sail beyond where the seas turn red, until the sky is filled with unfamiliar stars, to the lands between realities. Magic and the power to leave one's old life behind awaits for those brave enough to seek it.

Beyond & Between is a collection of stories set in the strange places settled by ancient people, deities, and creatures from Earth who fell through the cracks.

Whumptober 2022

Each prompt followed by the story series it's set in and the MC. Content guidelines at the start of each story.

[wc-wild-rewrite]

If we're allowed to ask about later arcs, how will the OOTS battle go down? You've mentioned Brackenstar, so i presume Firestar still dies, but what else happens?

Ah, The Great Battle. It's the biggest moment in Clan History since basically forever, every force, ally, and enemy of the clans clash together in a bloodbath. It's a major trauma for the clans that they never truly recover from, and that affects their very way of life afterwards.

But thats the poetic description, when it happened, it was chaos. The clans were tipped off by the Dark Forest recruits that backed out about the incoming attack, but nobody could've prepared for the hell that followed.

The Clan cats prepared themselves in their camps, reinforced to the teeth, with every kit and elder safely in hiding. They couldn't risk hiding them in another camp, so they could only pray. They had no specific date to wait for, but while they waited, the clans stockpiled on prey, burying it like they would in a harsh leafbare. The healers met up frequently to share much needed herbs, as the mystics begged Starclan for help.

They were so prepared that by the time The Dark Forest struck, they were ready. Slinking out of rivers, shadows, trees, anywhere they could pull themselves from the depths of, the ghostly cats came running, quickly backed by the recruits that still supported them, who had taken camp outside of all the territories. The first couple minutes weren't bad, the clans were holding their own, until more appeared, then more, then more. The Dark Forest had not only recruited living cats, but put a hole through the barrier between the Dark Forest and the Ghost Plane, the place where non-clan cats go when they die. Most weren't kittypets, the majority were rogues, but the kittypets that did fight were just as vicious.

Quickly, the clans were overrun. Getting a killing blow on these dead cats was hard enough, made only harder when they kept jumping back and forth between shadows. Despite the chaos, the sky was clear, and the blood of both living and dead was everywhere.

Suddenly, the sun was blotted out. Every cat in the territories froze as an eclipse filled the sky, in two clans, the fighting continued, though all were unsettled. In Thunderclan and Windclan, however, two groups appeared. Sol and Darktail, backed by their own rogue groups, came down on their despised clans with a vengeance. Darktail hadn't been abandoned in this AU, but his kittypet roots had soured his clan to him, and he had been pulled into the Dark Forest far, far too young, and in turn, he had pulled the other Windclan trainees in as well. And so, in the moons before the Dark Forest attack, he grouped up with his 'close ally' Sol, and pulled together a rogue group to tear down the clans in an ambush. Sol didn't originally intend to destroy the clans, but the events of Power Of Three made him more willing towards Darktail's plan.

And so, the clans were even further overrun. The living were starting to retreat, some muttering prayers to Starclan, when the clouds rolled in, not blotting out the eclipse, but thundering alongside it. The sky glowed as dozens upon dozens of Starclan cats raced down, claws out and yelling a battle cry that shook the very sky, sending lightning and thunder down upon the land. There had always been more Starclan than Dark Forest, and even with the ambush and extra dead rogues, they were no match for the numbers of Starclan.

Even then, the battle was hard, but righteous. Kits long dead blocked the entrance of nurseries, half faded elders fought side by side with their distant descendants, and, of course, past leaders flung themselves furiously at the cats who dared attack their clan. In Shadowclan, a group of cats both living and dead, led by Flintflang and Deerstep, tore Brokenstar apart while chanting the names of those he killed, as Badgerfang kept the living kittens quiet and hidden, despite his shaking paws.

The clans were winning, one paw strike at a time, but it was a struggle, for every Dark Forest cat killed, a Starclan cat was. For every Rainfloweer was a Spottedleaf, every Frecklewish was a Featherwhisker, and the living were beginning to drop from injury and blood loss too. They were winning the fight, but the war was still raging.

and then, an even bigger surprise occured. Midnight, leading the tribe cats and the mercats, came storming in, along with their ancestors. The Dark Forest were definitely outnumbered now, and started fleeing as The Six's powers were fully awakened by the prescence of their original spirits, massively faded but still there. The bloodbath turned to the side of the good, but there was still tragedy to come.

The thunder and lightning continued, as did the eclipse, as fire spread in all territories, setting a blazing background for the leaders and their fighting. Onestar chased Darktail down to the lake as the tom tried to escape, Mistystar fought against Mapleshade with the fury of the Applekin before her, Blackstar pinned one of Brokenstar's old loyalists on their back, and Firestar fought tooth and claw against Tigerstar, using every trick he had learnt in the time since their last match. The smoke was thick in the air as the remaining Dark Forest cats fled, leaving only the most stubborn, or stupid.

A tree was struck and fell between the two thunderclan cats, but Firestar nimbly jumped it, and with one last attack, Tigerstar vanished into nothingness, leaving only a smudge of dark, tar-like blood where he had stood moments before. They had no time to celebrate, however, as the camp continued to crackle and burn. But, while coated in the blood of himself and his clanmates, Firestar knew Starclan was sending rain, as the first drops hit his fur and the eclipse cleared. It was too late for him, he knew that, and he dropped to the floor as his clan gathered around him, old and young, living and dead. His spirit rose from his body, nuzzled goodbye with Sandstorm, and disappeared into the sky, the rest of the dead following.

As Thunderclan mourned their leader, Crowfeather desperately leaped into the lake to save Onestar, only to come up empty pawed and soaked through. Their leader, too, was gone. As was Shadowclan's, having tried to race to Windclan through the tunnels as aid, but getting caught by the flooding caused by the storm that broke only minutes later. Mistystar, thank the stars, was alive, but badly injured.

With three of four leaders left, the territories destroyed, and over a dozen cats dead, the clans entered their new era. Brackenfur- now to be star- prayed this would be a better one, but we all know how fate isn't a fan of the clans.

And so, came Arc 4 and a half. Or, as i call it, The New Prophecy (Propheciless Edition), actual name still pending.

[fantasyfantasygames]

Narcissist

Narcissist, Aetherco, 2004?

One of my favorite brain-bending games is Continuum (sometimes written C°ntinuum, but the degree sign is not great for accessibility). It's a game of "authentic" time travel where the past cannot be changed, but that doesn't excuse you from going back and doing what needs to be done, because you've already done it, so go do it. It's heavy on terminology, demands a fair amount of records-keeping, and is absolutely fascinating.

Continuum was intended to be the first of three games, with the other two being Narcissist and Dreamer. Dreamer hasn't come out yet. Narcissists are the bad guys of the first game (good guys in their own minds, of course) who skip across dimensions in addition to going through time. I have a 0.7 pre-release from a convention many years ago, and things have changed quite a bit since that draft.

While Continuum is all about protecting the "one true timeline" from damage, Narcissists have noped out of a world that was never kind to them in the first place. They don't believe the Inheritors' obviously self-motivated claims about the sanctity of the timeline. They generate paradoxes to squeeze themselves out of our world like a pumpkin seed and crash into another.

The system in Narcissist is mostly similar to Continuum, but cleans up some of the early-game issues so the whiff factor isn't as high. The late game still goes up into the elder-god levels of psychic and physical power, dovetailing into the Antedesertium supplement (which I'll cover in another review). The tweaks to the system definitely help it scale better at both ends. The art is ok but kind of surreal in an unhelpful way.

The setting for Narc (what an ironic nickname for the game...) starts off in our world, which they call Swarm Prime. As a starting character ("Drifter") you're mostly focused on fixing what went wrong in your life, but the world you end up in is never exactly what you wanted. In the midgame you leave Swarm Prime behind and join the greater society of Drifters, seeking meaning through belonging even if you can't admit it. Some people help other Drifters break free of Swarm Prime or nearby worlds; others twist timelines to find weapons to use against the Continuum or seek to understand the strange, ghostly time loops left behind by failed Drifters. The endgame pits you against the Inheritors, time-traveling transhumans who are the endpoint of the Swarm Prime timeline. Your eventual goal is to fracture that world into an infinite array of solipsistic worlds where everyone gets their own heaven exactly the way they want it. What that means for everyone in those timelines who isn't that particular Narcissist is hinted at darkly in several places.

Narc's paperwork is not in time-and-place tracking, but world-tracking. Every time you spawn a parallel world it starts drifting away from Swarm Prime. The farther it drifts, the safer it is from Continuum influence, but the faster time moves there. You can use up years of your life in very distant worlds and come back to find that almost no time has passed. Every change you make has knock-on effects for every world you've already visited. Every change may spawn another Narcissist who's out to get you for ruining their life.

One terrifying truth about Narcissist is that you never actually visit the same world twice unless it's Swarm Prime. That's the only one where the timeline is sufficiently protected. You never meet the same person twice unless you're there. Every world-hop generates a paradox that forks a timeline. Your Drifter allies are just echoes who look and talk like them. The enemies following you are just shadows of the ones you made. They only find you because there are an almost uncountable multitude of them. Where Continuum requires... well, a continuity of the events in the world, Narc explicitly denies one. The GM has an obligation to drift NPCs personalities as you meet different versions of them across time and dimension.

There's a lot more to it; these are deep games with a lot going on. You can probably tell that I'm a fan. I love time travel and dimension travel in general, and a lot of games use them purely for changes of scenery. Time and Temp is one of the few other games that really does time travel well. Narcissist sets a standard for a completely different kind of dimension-hopping game, and I hope it doesn't go overlooked.

Narcissist is a little harder to find than Continuum, not that getting a physical copy of Continuum is that easy. In fact, the physical copies of Narcissist and Antedesertium that showed up on my doorstep are the only final versions I've ever seen. I'd gladly pick up another if anyone has a source.

[laura-the-yellow-cat]

MSA X DP: The Ultimate Enemy Chapter 1: Dark Future of Ruined Destroyed with Protection Ghost Shield/Mystery trio/three Dark Ghosts/Full Appearance of Dark Danny, Dark Sophie, Midnight Dan

**in the future, 10 years, the ruins destroyed with protectiong host shield**

**future valerie and her future allies, future muffet with others**

Kids in the future: Hi!

Future Muffet: Captain Laura, how it camara going?

Future Me/Future Laura: Doing good with my partner Sarah, Commander Muffet

Future Sarah/Future You: Yeah, it doing good

Future Muffet: That's good

Future Tim: Okay, It's cool, my love

Future Valerie: Ghost shield tower…

**Cut to the watch, Valerie’s finger is on it. It’s filled with static**

Future Valerie: …100 percent operational

**On the watch, we see Mr. Gray's image resolve and he sits down. He's wearing a uniform and an eyepatch, even he's with Muffet and Tim's daughter named "Vanilla Kingsmen Pepper"**

Vanilla Kingsmen Pepper: Hi mom, hi dad!

Future Muffet: Hi Sweetheart

Future Tim: How are u going with Mr Gray?

Vanilla Kingsmen Pepper: It's great

Mr Gray: Great, sweetie. Let's check the last tower and get ba--

**but then, The watch cuts to static again and we see Valerie and her allies, looking alarmed**

Future Valerie: Daddy? Daddy?

Future Muffet: Vanilla? sweetheart, are u there?

Future Tim: Sweetheart, where are u?

**With a beep, a pair of red eyes appear on the watch screen**

Dark Danny's voice: Hello, Valerie

Dark Sophie's voice: Hello there, Muffet, Tim, Captain Laura and her allies

Midnight Dan's voice: Welcome, Ecole

Future Me/Future Laura and Future others: U three again?!

Future Valerie: We don't care how powerful you three are, ghosts, you three can't break through the shield!

Future Muffet: Yeah, don't be such a that big deal, ghosts!

Dark Danny, Dark Sophie and Midnight Dan's Voices: Until today **using their ghostly wails**

**the ghost shield protection are destroyed and the people are screaming and running**

Dark Danny's voice: You all like the new power? we call it our Ghostly Wails

Future Me/Future Laura: Commander Muffet, guys! Look out, Blazing purple blast was gonna hit u all!

**blazing purple blast was coming to them**

Future Muffet: Everyone, back in the FentonWorks House!

Future Ecole: Valerie!

**future muffet and future others are going to the fentonworks house, but future valerie**

**blazing purple blast hits valerie, then the Nasty Burger 2 was destroyed**

Future Valerie: You?

Fright Knight: Yes, me, And I serve a new master now

Valerie scrambles to her feet. The Fright Knight hauls back and throws another purple crystal blast at her. Future Ecole saves Future Valerie to get out of the way, the blast vaporizing the Nasty Burger 2

Future Valerie: Ecole, take fentonworks! gotta get to my dad

Future Ecole: I'm on it

**future ecole takes future valerie to the fentonworks house, find mr gray and vanilla kingsmen pepper**

Future Muffet: Sweetheart, are u okay?

Future Tim: Are u alright, sweetheart?

Vanilla Kingsmen Pepper: Yes, mom and dad, i'm alright

Future Ecole: I think we lost him

Future Valerie: Dad, the Fright Knight's here. Which means He can't be far behind. What do we do? What do we--

**it's ghostly wails again**

Mr Gray: Valerie, Run

Future Norman: They are here!

Future Muffet: **gasp** Vanilla, get safety place, Run! We'll hold them off

Future Tim: Yeah, we promise u

The red lights was shut down, leaving the lab in a green dim, and they both turn to look at the Fenton Portal. The ground splits open, starting at the base of the Portal and zigzagging toward them, green light shining from the fissure, and a dark red-eyed figure bursts up from it. We see him from the back, wearing a white and black jumpsuit with a white cape, green flame blazing around him. He lands on the shattered ground and approaches the Grays and their allies on foot. It pans up to show that it is recognizably Dark Danny, Dark Sophie and Midnight Dan

Dark Danny: Hello, Valerie

Future Valerie was shocked at Dark Danny

Dark Danny: and Goodbye

**Dark Danny, Dark Sophie and Midnight Dan using their ectoblasts**

**Outside, we see FentonWorks was explode We then zoom out to see this scene framed in a glowing ring set with gears. The scene in the ring changes to a wavering shot of Dark Danny, Dark Sophie and Midnight Dan**

For @sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup

All her msa ocs and new msa ocs belongs to @sfcabanasstarcgs and @mysteryideasgroup

All my msa ocs and new msa ocs belongs to Me

All Danny Phantom characters belongs to Nickelodeon Danny Phantom

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hoping and assuming the prompt list counts for this blog too? If so;

visiting them at their place of work, for Ghostly Peter % Aro?

Totally counts!

Warning: ghost Peter, vampire, vampire politics that Peter doesn't understand because he only really speaks English and not Italian

On with the fic!

--

Aro had stated that Peter was not allowed to be anywhere near the council room, where a lot of the more private vampire discussions happened. He did not want the ghost to cause any trouble, as this was an important meeting that had been planned for a while and this was really the only time a number of Aro's allies could be in a room with him.

Peter listened, nodded, but didn't promise to stay away.

In fact, he wanted to see what was so important that Aro actually got all scary vampire mafia leader about it in his tone when speaking. He made it so tempting! And Peter was known for giving into temptation so easily.

He easily slipped into the room through the floor, under the table where all he saw were a number of feet. In really fine, designer shoes, probably cost a fortune or something. He glanced up, seeing a perfectly normal table above his head, not even a wad of gum stuck underneath.

Not that vampires chewed gum. Unless if they did? Do they need to? If you have long fangs should you eat things that can sometimes pull out a normal human tooth?

Stupid thoughts, Peter was getting distracted.

He could hear Aro speaking, clearly at one end of the long table, the owner of the very expensive pair of designer shoes made of the finest leather. Peter should know, he had seen them a number of times in his escapes from an angry Aro by going into the floor.

He moved closer, trying to listen to what was being discussed. All he heard was a lot of words in Italian, most of them Peter didn't understand. He got a few, very basic words that are common enough in the Romantic languages that he got the gist of what they were, even if his knowledge of those languages were limited to a bit of French in school and his (sad) attempts at Romanian. And whatever Ginger used to say about him in Spanish. And Latin, but does Latin count? Kinda?

No one was speaking Latin here, he knew that language pretty decently, and he was shocked that it wasn't used in these meetings. You'd think for ancient vampires they'd go with the stereotype of speaking the language spoken in so many horror movies and books, but nope. Gotta be modern, he guessed.

At least it wasn't some form of ancient Greek!

Peter knew Aro talked about him in that language, and so far the only word he might have translated was whatever the ancient word was for 'annoying'.

Whatever was being discussed seemed pretty important from how people were talking, and Aro getting more and more agitated as voices talked over one another. The feet and legs around him were moving and someone even stomped a foot in anger. Another struck the table hard with their fist and Peter felt the sound through his ghostly teeth, man, that is a sturdy table! Probably for things like that.

Still, this was boring! So, so very boring!

He could entertain himself by teasing Aro's legs and maybe going higher...?

No, that might result in more trouble than it's worth, especially with how infuriated Aro sounded right now.

Right, best not to do anything fun like that.

Still, Peter glanced around and shrugged. No one ever said he was a mature adult.

--

"I think..." Aro hissed through his teeth. "That it would be best if we conclude for now and come back in a few hours, a bit less agitated with one another."

The council nodded, grumbling among themselves as they rose from their seats, only for several of them to suddenly fall over, either back into their seats, onto the table, or down to the floor.

The rest, including Aro, watched in confusion and it took just a second for Aro to realize something happened. He quickly ducked down to look under the table, finding that those who fell were all wearing shoes with laces.

Laces currently tied together, like something a child would do when an adult wasn't looking.

"Peter..." He sighed under his breath and looked about, seeing no trace of the ghost anywhere.

When he'd find him, they'd have some words about what they talked about before the meeting. Though he doubted that Peter would listen to him.

--

I'm sorry, this was so silly, but I just love Peter being an absolute shit as a ghost. He might not be able to kill vampires, but he sure as hell can give them a bad time.

[dailycharacteroption]

Creature Corner: Undead part 2

(art by Irina Krivosheeva on Artstation)

 Allies

 The undead is not a place one usually expects to find allies, but it’s not impossible. Like we said yesterday, the undead have the potential for a lot of interesting backstories, which ultimately tie to their undead state. With that in mind, today we’ll go over a few good examples of how undead might be allies to the party.

 The most obvious way to have undead allies is to make them yourself or bind them under your control with the necromantic arts. Now, obviously you have to be a necromancer to do this, and be of dubious moral character since, as we discussed yesterday, animating and controlling the dead, in addition to the crimes of subverting the will of a sapient being and defiling corpses, is already a dark act due to the way that Pathfinder explains how it works, with the twisting of the energies of life and death into an unnatural and dangerous state. Either way, animate dead can create skeletons, zombies, beheaded, and other minor undead, while create undead can create stronger entities. However, stronger undead are not automatically under the creator’s control, requiring binding spells unless you can negotiate with them for service. This is especially dangerous with classes and archetypes that can create undead but not necessarily control them, such as the reanimator alchemist.

However, there is at least one type of undead that is not constantly struggling with (or surrendering to) darker urges, and that is the ghost. Most non-evil ghosts have a vested interest in being freed from the fetters that bind them, making it in their best interests to ally with sympathetic adventurers and heroes. In fact, ghostly victims of the main baddy of a dungeon are a favorite way for GMs to slip in an ally in the middle of a dungeon that can help, but not too much. Similar bound undead might also be useful in this regard as well.

Of course, undead do not need to be good or even non-evil to be allies. After all, some undead are driven by revenge or a vendetta. A revenant avenging their murder, a vampire seeking to depose a rival or even an old master, a lich who understands the danger of another evil, and so on. All of the above and more might temporarily ally themselves with the party if it means achieving their goal. Whether or not they will betray the party, or even stave off their dark hungers long enough to see it through, however, is another story.

And then there are plenty of undead that may simply have complex motivations. Some may be staving off their urges or easing them with clever outlets, such as a ghoul only wanting to feed on the flesh of other ghouls. Others may instead have deep backstories and motivations which supercede those hungers when it really matters, but there is always the question of for how long.

Also, keep in mind that while the stuff about undeath being an abomination of the cosmos and a violation of funerary rites in most civilizations, remember that that’s only expressly true in the core Lost Omens setting. Some societies may have different relationships with their dead, including the iruxi in 2nd edition with their undead ossature guardians that rip themselves out of the walls they were interred inside to defend their descendants. Meanwhile, entirely different settings may have a different explanation for how undeath works, such as necromancers that help keep the dead out of trouble and doing good work until they can finally move on, and so on.

 With that, I think we have allies pretty well-covered, but tomorrow we’ll look at the undead through their more traditional role of antagonists!

[pcnnyworth]

incoming message from @batisms — ❛ do you think i’m a good person? ❜

The spirits of Waynes past, present, and (at this fleeting conception Alfred digs his fingernails into his palm, mentally genuflecting at the doorstep of every deity to have ever graced a theologian’s texts) future cluck at the butler’s foolishness, looking over the spotless shoulder of his waistcoat with a ghostly glare that burns holes into the rosewood spine of the armchair he does not deserve to sit in. Point and laugh, dear and deceased wards. Send him on paid leave to a tropical island off the coast of utopia if you must. And they must, in the butler's most humble opinion.

Alfred has been testing the temper of the autumn tempest venting out Gotham City, has been executing the role of airheaded temptress with every salad fork placed at a non-perpendicular angle. The storm has come for their section of society at last, laying waste to a syllabus of social events and other opportunities for his ward to flex his brattish billionaire muscles. Currently the pair of them sit at one of many colonial tables near one of many luxurious sofa sets playing one of many chess matches. They have yet to reach the endgame, but the seeping drafts are sliced through with the cunning blade of an imminent Zugzwang on Alfred’s part. His friends were too smart for their own good. What were they thinking, though, making an alloy of that intellect? Did they think he wouldn’t soon dominate the world of the manor with his me-ness? Did they think he wouldn’t stink up each and every floor with his inherited scruples, leaving behind a trail that blazes through allies and enemies alike?

It is Alfred’s turn in both conversation and in the game, but Master Bruce has a question. One that’s bloody difficult to answer, as usual. Good to know the weather hasn’t taken much of a toll on his ability to stick a proverbial pole up his guardian’s arse.

‘ I am pleased by the objective wording of your question, Master Bruce. ‘ And there should be some sort of conjunction to that statement. Instead there is silence, a theatric flexing of fingers to pretend that his thoughts on the rectitude of his dearest associate are difficult to gather, not at the forefront of his cerebral cortex twenty-five hours a day. ‘ I suppose you are not expecting an objective answer, however. ‘

‘ I think that you’re exhausting, for one thing, ‘ he relents. I, I, I. How many stars have annihilated themselves since the day he traded personal pronouns for buying pizza as a bully-beating prize dinner? There is no regret shuffling along the train of thought. No remorse. Only awkwardness. Advice is easy to dispense, he knows. It is the personal touch that blocks the airways, ceases the exchange of gases. ‘ Ensuring I’ll get to use my critical illness insurance, for another. ‘ Brilliant move from the manservant, exclaims the terrible commentator called self-esteem. More contractions than advisable for a healthy woman’s labour have maneuvered into his speech. There is nothing more than he can use to maneuver out of the question’s crosshairs, the commentator adds on. 

A sigh. ‘ You are a good person. What other Sharpie epithets may be slapped onto the nametag of someone with such stubborn integrity? ‘ A sip of his tea. ‘ Why do you ask? Moreover, why do you ask me? ‘