#the endless catacombs

[trashfr0g]

The Endless Catacombs Chapter 4: Rats.

Writing this chapter made me realize that I haven't watched the original Cinderella movie in a HOT minute. Had to do some Google searches to write the dialogue here, I totally forgot Cinderella's mice talked funny! 🙃

🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋

New to The Endless Catacombs?

A graphic, dangerous mission has Red and Chloe speedrunning their enemies-to-begrudging-allies(-to-lovers?) arc in the face of death. If you like violence and blood-covered lesbians, this is the fic for you!

[squidwujun]

I think we can all agree that reading the perfect fanfiction is one of the best feelings one can experience. But I think we don't talk enough about the process of finding said fanfiction. Like I am a wine sommelier searching the catacombs of the castle (Ao3) for the perfect wine for my king (me). I will be beheaded if I don't make the right choice (I'll be mildly disappointed). But I am a connoiseur, I know exactly what I'm looking for. I enter the catacombs (open Ao3) and make my way to the wine cellar (search for a ship and use filters). I slowly go through every single one of the hundreds of thousands of options like a librarian searching for a book in an endless library. I'm a professional, I will not allow myself to get distracted. I know this place like the back of my hand and I know it's secrets (tags). I find a fitting bottle and check the label (read the description) I nod to myself, I check the date (when it was last updated). Perfect. Now the most important part, I open the bottle and fill a small crystal glass with the red liquid. I swirl the wine carefully under my nose, breathing in its aroma (checking the tags). I smell berries (hurt/comfort) and cinnamon (enemies to lovers) with a hint of caramel (slow burn). I raise the glass to my lips tasting its aroma, it's sweet but it has a stale aftertaste (a tag I don't like). I go for the next bottle repeating the same ordeal. Again it's promising, but just not perfect. But I can't give up. I cannot disappoint my king, for the feast will soon begin (it's time for bed). I wander deeper into the catacombs, checking bottles left and right. Exhaustion overcomes me (I get slightly sleepy) and I am ready to accept my fate. (No bed time story)

But then, after what feels like forever (10 minutes max) I finally find it, the perfect wine. It's aroma unlike anything else, a taste even the gods would envy and I know my king will be happy (I'll read the whole night instead of sleeping)

[clockwayswrites]

Constantine & Danny, Cyan & Magenta, Walking through a puddle & Rumble of thunder. @jacksnervesofsteel, @ayzenigma

Gotham was miserable tonight.

This wasn’t a surprise to John. Gotham was always miserable. It was damp and muggy, smelling faintly of the sea no matter where you were and of death if you were in the wrong area.

John was often in the wrong area. It came with his business. He was sure that by the end of the night every pore would be rank with the smell of death. There were lemons already waiting in his shoddy motel room for him.

(John had learned through experience it was easier to by the lemons before he smelled like death.)

It wasn’t that John liked smelling like death, but like he had said, it came with his business. From everything that he had been able to gather, his business tonight was a cult and a nasty one at that. To make everything worse, it had it had set up in Gotham. Location didn’t always mater, but Gotham was one of those special places like the Bermuda Triangle or the Paris Catacombs; it was bathed in history and mystery and blood. He tried not to think about Gotham unless he had to.

Tonight he just hoped he’d get out of there without calling the attention of the Bats.

John found an awning to duck under to get out of the rain for a bit as another low rumble tore through the sky. The metal grate across the door rattled, as if echoing the thunder, as John leaned into it. The whole street was shutdown already even though it was hardly past ten. That suited John. Easier to not have witnesses. Much easier to not have easy sacrifices.

The cigarette was reassuring as it settled between his lips. Course his damn lighter wouldn’t light. He flicked futilely at the wheel.

Someone was getting close.

John could hear them.

There was that telltale squash of rubber soles through water, the sound different enough to stand out past the drizzle of rain. John readied a spell on his fingertips, cupped behind his palm keeping the damp off his cigarette. If he was lucky whoever it was wouldn’t even see him and just move on by.

“Looks like you need a light.”

But when was he ever lucky.

“Yeah, lighter is being a right bastard,” John answered casually. He glanced up over his hand and into blue eyes so deep they felt endless.

“Here, take mine.”

“Naw, mate—”

“Take it, I’ve gotten my use out of it.”

Refusing gifts was often unwise. “…sure, thanks.”

Constantine glanced down at the silver lighter sitting in the guy’s hand and then past it and down into the puddle under the stranger’s feet. From the reflection of the water, a skull grinned back at him. There were no more deep, blue eyes, just green glowing out from the skull. Sometimes it was eyes. Sometimes there was skin and muscle and eyes. Crackling electricity scattered over the bone, rending the flesh from it as quick as it grew back.

John jolted as a too flesh hand pressed the lighter into his.

“Take it, Laughing Magician,” the skull said. John’s gaze jerked up to the stranger who just grinned at him. “You’ll need it tonight.”

“What—”

The strange man backed up a step. The skeletal reflection backed up with him and was out of sight.

“Try not to die, John. That would be messy.”

“Ta, mate,” John said half on auto pilot.

He watched the man until he was out of sight.

Gotham was miserable tonight.

[simplyafountainpen]

Flying The Nest

{𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼}: Son!Reader x Sebastian Michaelis

{𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷}: After the anomaly that is a Demon Child spawns before The Crow Demon, it takes it upon itself to raise it up in a most demonic manner, but not all chicks readily leave the nest.

{𝓣𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓼}: Fluff, crack/silly fic, small amount of angst, (Y/n) is not Sebastian’s biological son, Sebastian & (Y/N) are referred to as Crow Demons and he and (Y/N) are referred to with it/its pronouns for a while

{𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽}: ❝a requests of black butler....(i LOVE platonic fics, and I can just think about it) like, Sebastian's son? the (male) reader don't need to be too young, but i think would be funny Sebastian trying to teach his son how to be a good butler, and reader been just a little messy demon. My English is not good, I'm sorry... i love your writing, please, bite my cheek (yes)❤❞ - izlittlebu (@sweetplantbro)

Demon children were not things most accounted for. You see, Demons are beings born from the woes and suffering of humanity, culminations of their despair and guilt. Of their sadism and pride. Of lust and greed and gluttony and envy and wrath and sloth. Of the impure. Demons are born full grown with a place in the hierarchy, a knowledge for what they must do with their eternal-unless-killed lives, and an endless and incurable hunger for souls.

So when a certain Crow Demon was met the squawking of a child, same as it in species - both being crows - and form, it panicked.

Demons were not meant to raise children unless asked by a future human Master or Mistress! Caring for one of their own with little to no gain is unheard of! There would be no point in keeping this anomaly that would only weigh this Crow Demon down, and so, initially, it flew off without a second though, leaving the newborn alone in the depths of hell.

But then, the crying. That damned crying. Thousands of crow chicks crying out in fear. A noise so loud it echoed through the endless caverns and catacombs of hell, alerting every being in these depths of the anomalous, pathetic child in their wake. And so, in a moment of both self preservation and recklessness, the elder Crow Demon swooped down and shoved it’s feathered mass into the younger, shutting it up.

The many eyes that crowded the Crow’s eldritch form stared into the matching many of the child that stared back.

With a reluctant huff, the young Demon chick was lifted from the ground in the arms of the elder Demon Crow, both taking off into the flame littered skies of the damned world of hell.

This would be the mark of a new relationship.

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

Years flew by faster than either of you could care for. Centuries of staying side by side had ignited a relationship between you and your elder, one akin to those of a Father and son, you both found.

And as such, you became a packaged deal. Summon your Father, and they get you as well. A younger, but still devilishly handsome boy, with those same piercing red eyes as your Father. His pact mark became intertwined with what would be yours, ensuring that the two of you would be together till time itself ended.

The only issue in the whole situation was that you were… a bit clumsy, to put it mildly. Where your Father was amazing at everything he did, more often then not - if it was not just preforming or entertaining - you’d find some way to mess everything up.

Bring the Master some tea? You'll end up drenched with a shattered tea set. Bring the Master food? Your hair was set on fire instead with a somehow raw-on-the-outside yet cooked-on-the-inside meal. Clean the halls? The ceiling is covered in soap and bubbles, the floor is covered in dirt and grime.

It was almost impressive with how well you managed to screw up nearly every task you were given, considering that those who summoned you and Father automatically assumed you were - in fact - related by blood. You both were unearthly beautiful with your piercing red eyes, and your Demon forms were scarily close in size and shape, even down to the hooker boots.

At the very least, whenever you messed up, they'd get to see your Father clean up the mess in a most graceful way.

You were never upset at the situation, in fact you nearly found it funny. Something Father never understood, you would come to realize. Unlike his sense of hilarity, you could let nearly any imperfection roll off your back like rain on a petal, never truly taking any punishment to heart. You'd take the advice, try again, fail, then get back up and keep trying.

Father also didn't seem to worried, always taking time out of his nights - seeing as both of you rarely slept - to train you. Over time it would get better, less spillage and messes and more elegant triumphs much like him.

But if there was something you could do that Father had little experience in, that was entertain. Your memory was impeccable, of course, and that made you a beautiful storyteller, even if you did embellish the truth quite a bit, but isn't that something humans do all the time?

You'd preform tricks for you Master and their guests, flips, games and otherwise while Father took care of literally anything and everything else. If everything, you could be described as the distraction to his action. The calm before Father's storm. You were the warning signs and flashing lights while Father was the danger that inevitably followed.

And this was life. This was the routine from the moment you truly gained consciousness and would most likely be until the day reality ceased.

·:¨༺ ♱✮¨:·ᨐฅ ᨐᵐᵉᵒʷ·:¨✮♱ ༻¨:·˚─── ⋆⋅⛥⋅⋆ ──

"Are you ready?" It was just passed midnight, all residents of the manor you and Father had currently been serving at had been put to rest, so it was time for your 'nightly training'.

You walked with your Father towards the front door, exiting the large dwelling and pressing onwards to a nearby forest. Neither of you needed to bring anything, the space you'd both be using having been set up for ages by this point. No candles were needed as you both trekked to said forest, and within moments of entering the dark space, your brisk paces became long strides, not a single branch snagging on either of your outfits. Both of you glided through the leaves, looking more like afterimages than 'human beings'. Small animals scurried off when you both rushed by, leaves whipping wildly due to the speed you each were traveling at. Finally, the meeting spot - that which was a clearing filled with old furniture and tea sets and cleaning supplies - was in sight and you both slowed back to a nice walking pace, calmly waltzing into the clearing.

"We'll start simple for the night. Dusting isn't something you have much issue with - anymore anyway - but we should always brush up on our skills, shouldn't we?" Father's voice was much less uptight then it was in front of your Master, more lax but still with that undertone of something sinister, though you knew it wasn't pointed at you. A twitch of his finger was all it took for you to rush off to the small collection of cleaning supplies you kept out here, all pristine and cleanly, no matter how long they went without use. The feather duster you picked up was the best of it's kind, naturally, so picking up dust was nothing more than a breeze. Or so it should have been.

The dust of the shelves chosen was kicked up rather than swept up, making it fly all around you and Father instead of gathering to be swept up later. You sheepishly grinned as the duster in your hands continued to fly wildly around in the air, desperate to collect even a bit of dust. Father simply sighed, walked over, and cleaned up the mess within seconds leaving you still a bit dusty and the shelves and Father perfectly clean.

"What happened?" He asked gently and you looked down, chuckling and shrugging your shoulders. A hand went up to the back of your neck, rubbing and massaging the muscles as you stretched and popped your joints.

"Not sure, just got a bit too excited? I guess?" Your tone was sheepish, grin turning to a half-smirk, eyes drooping slightly. You Father also softened his smile, chuckling into a sigh as he pet your head, ruffling your hair.

"Well then, I suppose we'll have to wear down that excitement, won't we?" You were used to seeing this uncharacteristic softness from Father, the less tense smiles and looser body language, the encouragement and even the offerings of help without needing anything in return. Your smiled broadened as Father brought you in for a quick side hug, the hug itself being brief, but more than enough to get the message of affection across.

The feather duster was laid down on a nearby table, the two of you taking a seat in a mismatched pair of chairs. Father stared at you while you took a deep breath, held it, and let it out. His larger hands grasped yours, leaning towards you with that small smile on his face. You looked towards him with a smile of your own. With a nod, you both took a deep breath and held it - longer than you had before - and let it out, relaxing your bodies. You did this a couple times, over and over, breathing and calming your excitement to be here with your Father, spending time with him alone, without humans to interrupt. You grew giddy at the thought, only to feel a palm press against your head and one of your own to drop back into your lap. Father looked at you with a knowing gaze and you laughed, settling back down to keep breathing.

"We Demons," Father began, "must stay calm and collected throughout the day and night to complete our duties to utmost perfection. Not a mistake shall be allowed so that when we reap our reward, it will be as sweet as the nectar that led humans to this path of destruction and selfish desire. You understand, don't you?" You nodded at his words, shuffling in your seat, now very eager to get up and move again Sitting still was never your strong suit. Father watched as you jittered in your seat, smiling at you.

It was sudden, when he stood and pulled you by the one hand he was still holding into an embrace, wrapping his arms around you. Usually he gave you nothing but short head pats or the occasional side hug, like earlier. But to be fully embraced fully like this was such a rarity that you genuinely couldn't remember the last time he had given one like this. You stared into the fabric of his waistcoat, hesitantly returning the hug, to which he then squeezed you for.

You both stood there in silence for a moment, your head in his chest and his on your own head. The sounds of the forest overtook the moment, the distant call of night birds and deer playing created a symphony around you. The wind even seemed to blow slightly, pushing you both closer together.

"Perhaps... you were not made for all this cleaning and such." Your eyes immediately went to Father's, shock written visibly across your features. Before you could refute, Father placed a finger to your lips.

"You enjoy the performances you do for our Masters, correct?" You hesitated, but nodded. "And you much prefer these performances over cleaning and cooking, correct?" again, you nodded. Sebastian hummed, looking to the sky for a bit, before nodding to himself and looking down at you, who now had a confused pout on your face as you rested in his arms. "Then I have an idea. We've been going about this all wrong. Grab the feather duster, please?" He let you go, arms falling to his sides. Instead of moving, you squeezed him a bit tighter, then let go a moment later to retrieve the cleaning item.

"Now, instead of cleaning for me, preform. Don't focus on cleaning, but with devilish charm, instead focus on making it a performance, cleaning second." You stood still for a second, staring at him from your place in front of a lightly dusty table. It took you a minute to really let the words sink in, turning back to the shelves, lost in thought. Father let you have the time to really take the words in, the feather duster in you hand raising and lowering in hesitance. Eventually, you raised the duster and held it the air.

Don't focus on the cleaning, focus on the performance..?

Your mind began to spin a song, swift and graceful. The music that echoed in your head soon swam around in your mind, your body beginning to sway with it, hand going up to the table with the feather duster ghosting over the surface gently, less in a cleaning motion and more in a way that portrayed it. You swiftly made your way across the entirety of table, eyes closed as you drifted aimlessly.

Instead of applause or praise, you instead 'awoke' to the sound of Father coughing. Your eyes opened and found Father holding a fist to his mouth, waving a hand through the thick cloud of dust that surrounded you both. Your eyes squinted as you waved the duster around in a frenzy to clear away the dust, instead pushing it around even more.

“Don’t - ahem - don’t bother. Let’s just leave this place for a moment.” Father spoke softly. You nodded, not feeling it in you to talk. The feather duster was gently placed on a different table, the both of you rushing from the scene and resting on the branches of a nearby tree. You were downcast, eyes level with the floor, not bothering to look up at Father who you were more than sure was upset with you.

“Now now, don’t look like that.” You tensed, feeling him land beside you from his higher perch. A hand rested on your shoulder, your eyes looking up and catching his.

“It seems we’ll simply have to work a bit harder-“ “We’ve been working for years by thing point Father!” You interrupted, something you’d never usually do. Tears nearly made themselves apparent in your eyes but you wiped them away before they could even form, looking back towards the ground. “We’ve been at this for years and I’ve barely improved. I just don’t get why. I want to improve! And I definitely try to, but I just don’t. I just can’t and I don’t know why.” Your lip trembled as your voice cracked and broke. You were tired of this, of this trying to be better at something you clearly weren’t. You hadn’t looked back up at Father out of shame, thinking you’d definitely see his disappointment.

Instead, a hand gently placed itself on your cheek, tilting your head upwards to meet Father’s gaze. His eyes were soft, uncharacteristically so, and held rarely seen compassion and care. He thumbed your cheek, holding you there, then leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I’m not disappointed. I’m not angry. This is a learning process for the both of us. I’ve never been a father before and it I know shows. We will figure this out together, alright little one? This is nothing to cry over, Demons don’t cry, after all.” You sighed, nodded, and scooted closer to the elder, who welcomed you. You shared the third hug - a new record - of the night, squeezing him as tight as possible. He returned the force with everything he had.

“This is a learning process for the two of us. We will get through this, understood?” You chuckled at the question, nodding into Father’s shirt.

“I do. I understand.” He nodded, trademark smile on his face. Father’s red eyes met your own, the two of you grinning together.

“Then let’s keep learning. Keep moving forward. Till time itself gives up and humans fall.” Your grin grew at his words.

“Together till the end!” You cheered, arms swinging upward, only to hit the branch above you both and send you tumbling to the ground, you falling on your face and Father landing on his feet. He chuckled at your misfortune and you growled.

There was still plenty time to grow.

{𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼}: I am so very sorry this took so long to get out. I had a few things happen in life in quick succession and Wuthering Waves took control of my free time. I still hope that you enjoy, even if this is shorter than I had hoped it to be.

-🖋️

All publishings on this account belong to @fountain-pen-anon. I do not authorize my fics being altered, translated, stolen or published/reposted to other sites, thank you.

© fountain-pen-anon - all rights reserved

[l0vergirlwrites]

our moments ; rick grimes

warnings: mentions of weapons, blood, death, swearing, some angst & a sweet slow burn

a few moments with rick throughout the time you’ve known each other that aided your slow burn:

1. early prison days

since you were new the group, it was hard fitting into their little family when you stumbled across them with tyrese & sasha after carl led you through the prison’s catacombs. despite your previous group leaving, going off somewhere else to call home, you stayed because your gut told you to.

you followed their orders & stayed clear of the group to focus on your daily tasks to prove that you’re person of your word until you were allowed to sleep in the same cell block as the rest of them.

one night when you decided to stay up & count the food rations in the main area, you didn’t expect someone to join you.

with a small gaslit lamp, a notebook & half a broken pencil, you were busy looking back & forth between the canned food & your paper until the metal door of the cell block creaked quietly. springing your head up, your body slightly relaxed when you saw the group’s leader begin to approach you.

“what are you doing?” rick asked you, bouncing judith up & down in his arms to calm her fussing.

taking a seat across from you at the circular metal table, you tucked your hair behind your ears & looked back at him. “just some food inventory,” you said looking around at the cans & bags of grain still left from the group’s last run.

“glenn mentioned that maggie & him were planning to do a run tomorrow, so i thought an updated inventory list would be helpful” your kind explanation made rick give you a tiny smile in approval.

“that’s nice of ya to do, thanks” he said while looking back between you & his daughter. the grip she had on his thumb made your heart swell. it was nice to see something full of love in a world where death crept everywhere.

“could i ask you something?”.

humming in response, rick lowered judith to his chest & focused on you.

“why have you kept me around?” the question lingered in the air.

scratching his chin, rick looked back at you & tilted his head a little, almost like he was analyzing you.

“you’ve proven yourself,” rick started. “you’ve shown your loyalty, you’ve gotten along with everyone & followed through with orders… & you’re pretty good with a gun & bow” he listed off a few reasons, seeing you grow a shy smile on your face.

it felt nice to know he approved you.

“the things you do—like staying up to do something that’ll help others tomorrow—is the kind of thing we need more of… sets a good example, shows you’re worth it” his voice grew more sincere as he spoke.

this was the first time you both have had a one-on-one conversation. it was nice.

“i was unsure about you…” he noted, your eyes flashing with worry for a moment.

“—but you’ve proven me wrong so far… keep doing that” giving you an encouraging boost of morale, he rose from his seat once he noticed judith getting sleepy, heading towards the metal door to leave you to it.

“thank you rick,” you called out softly, making him pause his movements. “really, thank you”

“you’re welcome… goodnight” he said looking back at you.

the gaze you both held ignited a small warm feeling. you both felt it, but ignored it.

“goodnight” you waved him off, sighing contently before getting back to your ration notes.

2. post prison

after the prison fell, you wound up alone & fearful in the woods. with the few items you had in your emergency bag, you were able to survive for a few days by sleeping in the high trees, tying your body to large branches so you wouldn’t fall.

but you were tired, going hungry, & your injuries were going to get worse if you didn’t find more medical supplies soon.

it was hard for you to get proper sleep when the friendships you’ve made with rick & the group keep you up at night. did they make it out? are any of them hurt? are they alone too?

the questions were endless.

but instead of wallowing, you knew you had to keep going. by using the tracking tricks daryl had taught you a few times when going on runs, you were hopefully making progress in tracking a decently fresh pair of boots that led to an abandoned neighborhood. you weren’t able to tell if they belonged to anyone you knew, but your gut was telling you to follow them.

the neighborhood was silent, alike many other ghost towns you’ve came across since the world fell apart, but it gave you a hopeful feeling as you pushed yourself to search the houses for anything, or anyone. old books, tvs, clothes, dead bodies, children’s toys—all covered by layers of dust, dried blood, flies & debris.

it took you a few houses to find a decently stacked medical kit, which you used to clean a few of your shallow cuts on your arms & cheek from getting bark burn. you also found a few canned goods which gave you some hope, but there was no sign that anyone from the prison had even been in the area yet.

when you reached the middle area of houses along the street, you heard a muffled sound of something falling, intriguing you to look further. slowly making your way up a set of porch steps, knife out & ready to use. you quietly scanned the front windows to see if anything was near the front of the house.

you expected walkers. you didn’t expect rick & carl.

as soon as you saw them, you felt immediate relief wash over you, overwhelming you to the point where you had tears welling in your eyes. so you knocked on the door & waited.

rustling. silence. mumbling. creaking.

the door opened cautiously, & behind it you saw a beaten up rick grimes looking at you with a smile. before either of you could say anything, carl was already rushing into your arms & holding you in a tight embrace, causing you to laugh as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“hi—“

“—how did you find us?!” carl asked into your shoulder.

“i tracked. gut feeling” you sniffled as you held him tighter, your eyes melting into rick’s as his smile grew.

the way he looked at you spoke more than words could.

his blue eyes flashed “i missed you”

& yours flashed back “i missed you too”

after carl let you go & pulled you inside, locking the door, you & rick stood in front of each other for a moment, soft smiles present on your faces.

you were the first to initiate the hug.

“i’m glad you’re okay” you mumbled into his torn shirt, holding him tighter when you felt rick’s arms go around your shoulders.

“right back at ya” he whispered to you, leaning his head on-top of yours until you pulled away, getting a good look at him.

rick was beaten to a pulp with dirt & dried blood on his clothes & skin, along with a partial black eye near his swollen cheek.

“you look—“

“rough” carl says, causing you to turn to him & laugh.

turning back to rick, you pointed to your worn out backpack. “got some stuff to fix that” you smiled, following carl into the kitchen where you told him to sit so you could check him for injuries.

rick followed behind shortly, ghosting in the doorway as he looked at you bearing your own set of injuries, rushing your medical kit items out while carl updated you on what happened since the fall.

the way you treated carl with such care made rick feel that small warm feeling again. his gut was trying to telling him something. but he hasn’t pieced it together yet. & somehow, neither have you.

3. pre-terminus

“if you fall, i get the last kit-kat!”

“oh you’re so on!”

the train tracks to terminus, a so-called safe haven, were longer than anticipated. the journey was bound to take a couple days. but so far with you, rick & carl, it’s been pleasant.

you tried to keep carl entertained by balancing on the train tracks as rick stayed a head of you both, laughing at the childish energy emitting from your game.

“what’re you guys doing?” rick asked with a smile on his face, walking backwards now as he looked between you & carl with looks of concentration on your faces.

“winning” you replied, hearing carl scoff beside you as a rebuttal.

rick shook his head at both of you, turning around to keep his eyes out for any threats until he heard someone’s feet clash against the gravel.

“oh shit—“

“haha i win!”

turning his heard around again, rick saw you on the gravel with a playful pout on your face while carl was lifting his arms up in victory.

“fair is fair” you said while handing carl the kit-kat bar, smiling softly when you saw how happy he was to have it.

“we can share—“

“carl, you don’t have to—“

“fair is fair! take your half y/n”

taking a half of the kit-kat bar, you thanked the boy & looked towards rick, seeing him motion you to come forward.

once you were beside him, he called carl to come in front so he could keep an eye on him, then he went back to looking at you.

“thank you” rick said, nodding his head towards carl.

“you don’t have to thank me” you nudged his elbow with yours.

as rick looked ahead at his son still balancing on the train tracks, he sighed.

you & carl being friends is not a strange concept—the whole group, including rick, knew the small friendship. you got him comic books with michonne, & he made you origami figures in return. you looked out for him, & he looked out for you.

“you being here… i think it’s helping him cope with… ” you knew who was referring to… it was judith.

“rick,” placing a hand on his shoulder, you squeezed the material of his jacket. “i-i—“

“it’s okay,” he assured, tight lipped smile on his face as he relished your presence.

“i don’t think you should give up on her yet” you told him slowly, seeing him furrow his brows.

“why?” he asked quietly, trying to find any hope within himself to believe that his daughter is still out there, safe from harm.

“gut feeling” you said simply, seeing rick look he wasn’t sure if he should believe you.

“you always go with your gut?” he asked again, looking at you with an unreadable look on his face.

nodding your head, you told him yes. “its what made me stay at the prison… made me find you & carl, so yeah—i go with my gut”

“i might do the same then”

his words made you smile as you gave his shoulder one last squeeze, dropping your hand back into your coat pocket.

the rest of the walk was quiet, besides carl’s random questions you encouraged him to ask so he’d keep himself busy. rick often chimed in too, the three of you walking side by side until the forest welcomed you again.

the warm feeling came back again. it was growing stronger than before. but still, neither of you knew what it meant.

4. post-terminus

terminus was a huge lie. a total shit show. & it left the group feeling worse than the fall of the prison. you had found a small church to crash at, courtesy of gabriel, a priest that none of you could seem to trust much, but you needed shelter.

the group, along with a few new members named abraham, eugene & rosita, all gathered around the alter area under a few candles & ate from some of gabriel’s rations, everyone talking & catching up. it was nice to be reunited with the group of people you’ve come to love, even though not all of them survived.

you sat next to maggie, directly in front of rick, & watched him play with judith as he relished his reunion with his daughter. it made your heart swell with happiness to know your gut feeling was right, that judith was safe with tyrese & carol after all.

she’s been making grabby hands towards you & maggie for a while now, causing rick to laugh before nudging your foot with his.

“ya wanna hold her?” he asked, seeing you nod your head carefully as you scooted closer to rick, hands shaking slightly due to nerves because you’ve never held her before.

everyone continued their conversations, but maggie & glenn stared at you two with knowing looks on their faces because they saw something you & rick haven’t noticed yet.

once you were seated beside rick, your back against the wood of the altar, he slowly passed judith over to you & she immediately grabbed your hair, gently pulling on the strands as you held her in your lap. you talked to her in a hushed voice, smiling as you heard her giggle & point towards rick a few times.

“she likes ya” rick drawled, both of you smiling brightly as judith babbled on.

“y/n,” you looked to rick as he talked, your eyes shining in the amber coloured candle light—it made him feel the warm feeling again.

“yeah?” you questioned when he went silent again, wondering what questions were swirling around in his head.

his brows furrowed again, not in a confused way, but in a concerned one. “you okay?”

his voice was quiet, making it clear he wanted to have a somewhat private moment with you. you weren’t too sure what to say—you haven’t been fine since the world fell apart, hell—no has been. but since you’ve become a member of his group & built friendships with them, you felt good.

“it’s like a double sided coin,” you tried to explain, finding it hard to say your feelings with words.

“i hurt, i mourn, i’m exhausted… i feel far from okay in so many aspects i guess. but, i know i really am okay because the group’s here, you’re here…” the little admission made you let out a carefree smile, one which rick quickly returned & that warm feeling came back again like a magnet, pushing you too closer.

“as long as everyone is okay, then so am i”

your answer ignited a feeling in rick he hasn’t felt in a long time. it almost felt like lo—

“thank you for saving me earlier. that terminus guy was so close to—”

“hey,” he nudged you. “i got you, no need to thank me” rick assured, his tone sounding far from platonic but you brushed past it.

“right back at you” your chest started to getheavy the more you looked at him, making you feel nervous & warm.

comfortable silence took over the two of you until carl took judith from your lap, bringing you back into the groups’ conversations. you were surrounded by friends, but one of the them seemed to have the potential of being more than that.

5. early alexandria

alexandria was too good to be true. children could play outside with no hassle, the homes were more than luxurious, & the place wasn’t crawling with walkers in the walls. there was running water, soap, makeup, clothes, lots of food, & mattresses that weren’t filled with holes or mold.

it was paradise. but it felt almost like a trick.

after the lengthy interview process with deanna & all the orders on weapons, plus townspeople introductions, everyone was finding their own groove on how to adjust.

the first night felt like a shock to the system for everyone, especially due all the time the group spent on the road, having access to luxuries felt too weird. as the group eventually fell asleep, you stayed awake, staring at the ceiling until you couldn’t bear it.

getting up from your sleeping bag & carefully tiptoeing upstairs, you decided to explore the house for a while to escape your troubles. you went through the bedrooms, testing the lights, poking the mattresses & you eventually sat down on one to really test if it was real.

& it was.

the cushiony feel of the mattress felt like heaven against your body, making you lay down fully to really enjoy it. just as you sighed with comfort, you heard the door creak open, causing you to spring up & almost fall off the bed.

“it’s just me” rick said slowly, closing the door when you breathed out of relief.

“sorry, you scared me for a sec” with your hand clutching your heart, you brushed your messy hair behind your ears, like you always do, & patted the spot next to for rick to sit.

“what’re you doing up here?” he asked once he sat on the mattress, leaning his right arm back so he could turn his body towards you.

shrugging your shoulders, you played with the hem on the clean shirt deanna gifted you, “felt like exploring the place a bit”

giving you a tired smile, rick nodded his head, “not because you can’t sleep?”

“haha, no… definitely not” you replied sarcastically, hearing rick chuckle at your words.

rick thought you looked beautiful in this moment, seeing you in a new light. your skin was free from any debris & dirt, your hair was freshly washed & smelt like vanilla, you wore clothes that didn’t have any rips or thousands of patches—you looked more beautiful than he thought you could.

you thought rick looked nice all cleaned up, freshly shaven skin with no stubble in sight, his hair clean & not sticking down onto his forehead, plus his hands were finally dirt & blood free for once. rick looked nice, especially because you’ve never seen him like this before.

“i don’t know how long it’ll take for me to get used to you not having a beard” you said to break the silence, inviting soft laughs to break through you both as rick rubbed over his face again.

“god—i don’t even know if i’m used to it” he groaned with a smile, making your stomach flip in circles.

before you knew it, the space between you both was slowly dissipating; you didn’t realize your knee was touching his.

“you look nice though,” you complimented, eyes focused on the details of his face in the dark. “never seen you like this before… very handsome” rick hummed at your words, eyes raking over your face again before making eye contact.

“you look nice too… real pretty…” he trailed on. rick wasn’t sure what else to say to hide the fact he was at his breaking point. the magnet was pulling him closer, & he couldn’t turn away from it anymore.

you were hoping the lack of bright light helped to mask the way your cheeks were burning hot.

“do you think we can make this place work?” rick asked suddenly, switching the topic to something serious.

nodding your head almost immediately, your hand went onto of his. “i think so. you’ve led us through hell & back—“

shaking his head to make you pause, rick lifted his hand from yours only to grasp it, giving it a small squeeze. “no, not me—us… we… you & me— do you think we can make this place work… together?”

the reframing of his question made you wonder if your heart skipped a few beats.

you stared at him, eyes flashing “do you mean it?”

his flashed back with ease “i do”

looking towards your hand in his, your knee against his knee, the proximity between you two—

“yeah,” you finally answered. “i know we can make this work”

smiling until your ears hurt, you felt rick gave your hand another squeeze as your eyes glossed over, eyes not leaving his blue ones.

same old rick. same old feeling. that’s what it meant all this time.

“gut feeling?” he whispered. this felt right.

“yeah, gut feeling” you whispered back.

he couldn’t handle it any longer, neither could you. so he pulled you closer with his hand on your cheek & kissed you, slow & loving with no rush of what the next day will bring. there is so much pain in the world, but not in this room—not with him in this very moment as everything finally set into place.

rick taught you that home isn’t necessarily a place, it can be a person. & luckily for you both, home is wherever you both are, as long as it’s together.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hi! I was talking to some friends at work about possibly, some time in the future starting an RPG group with them. I asked what kind game they wanted and they asked for a game based on food and puzzles, influenced by currently popular media.

I’m not familiar with a game that is centered around both puzzles AND food. Can you offer any suggestions?

Thanks!

THEME: Food and Puzzles!

Hello friend, so I have a Dungeon Meshi recommendation post that was very poorly tagged, but I’ve fixed it now!

Not everything in this post is beginner friendly, but I’ve talked about these kinds of games a lot before, so I definitely recommend checking out the other links I have in this list, especially Cook & Hero and Wilderfeast. Now, on to the recommendations!

FOODIE’S, by Sam Bullock.

The world has ended. Only psychotic people are left limping through the devastation, trying to scrape by on whatever prepackaged and shelf stable food they can find picking through the wreckage. You are sick to death of eating this shit. You are a Foodie, and your tastes will be satisfied even if it kills you (and it probably will).

Become crazy wasteland chefs willing to fight and die for their next insane culinary creation. Kill raiders, hunt radfauna and escape the endless cycle of mediocre food.

This is a game that’s meant to be as radioactive and shocking as the apocalypse it’s set in. Use whatever you can around you to cook horrifying meals in an effort to make something more than edible. The game uses a system that adds and subtracts dice from your pool depending on traits that you (and your food) might have that make things slightly easier to do or less appealing to cook with. If you want a game that’s stomach-churning but only a few pages to read, maybe check out Foodie’s.

Forager’s Feast, by FUNONEGames.

Your old adventuring group retired, but you couldn't keep yourselves out of the action. And so, you opened a fine-dining establishment where you serve only the finest monster, locally caught and immaculately presented.

Each week after serving your exclusive clientele, you sit down to eat from the menu and tell tales.  Before long, reliving current and past adventures has you sharing deeply with your comrades.  

Roll on a series of d12 roll tables to determine what kind of adventurer you were, and what your role is within the restaurant that the group of you run together. Players take turns selecting a dish from the provided menu, and telling a story about how the group found the related monsters, the process of putting the dish together, and what heavy price they had to pay: an experience from their adventure that left a mark on who they are as a person.

Forager’s Feast is definitely the least focused on stats and mechanics, and more focused on storytelling happening within turns. You are provided with prompts and then asked to jump right in - great for groups who are really interested in storytelling, and much less focused on things like character abilities or hit points.

No Picnics in the Dungeon!, by Biscuit Fund Games.

Classic adventuring through megadungeons and catacombs distilled down to an easy-to-follow recipe: the comfort food of dungeon crawlers! 

Built on the robust Powered By the Apocalypse engine, No Picnics in the Dungeon! is an accessible, rewarding dungeon-crawling experience that’s easy to run and even easier to play. Create an adventuring party in minutes and descend through dungeons requiring a minimum of preparation. Find rare ingredients from the monsters you battle and the flora you find, and cobble them together into beneficial potions or hearty meals. Track down rare Curios, negotiate with the dungeon’s denizens, and come up with a recipe for a fantastic adventure.

The dungeons hide many secrets and many more delicacies within their walls for you and your friends to discover. Ah, dungeon picnics… there's truly nothing like them.

Combine your class and background to put together an adventurer right out of Dungeon Meshi. Powered by the Apocalypse games are very different from what you may expect in D&D, but I think they can be easier to learn because each character works similarly, and doing things is boiled down into moves, which typically involve rolling 2d6 and interpreting the results as either success, failure, or mixed. If you want to learn more about the PbtA school of games, you can check out my system overview, as well this advice on resources when learning how to play.

Death Cap Sauté, by Junk Food Games.

It’s the year 23XX and our world is now The Wasteland. The legendary, reclusive Shroomp Lord is hosting a new cooking competition and your restaurant has received an invitation! Can you survive through the challenges and cook your way to the top?

Death Cap Sauté is a GM-less TTRPG and dice game for 2 to 5 players and is meant to be played in a single session. Each player takes the role of 3 culinary team members representing their restaurant that has entered a deadly cooking competition. Make the best dishes and impress the judges to earn Shroomps. The restaurant with the most Shroomps at the end wins! 

Because Death Cap Sauté is GM-less, it requires everyone around the table to have some understanding of the rules; which means you could teach it as if you were teaching a board-game. The pdf includes a bunch of roll-tables for the competition, as well as hazards that show up in your attempts to make the best dish at the competition. Your characters each have mutations that lend them special powers, allowing you to do things like add or subtract values to your dice, or re-roll certain dice. This is also designed to be a one-shot, so if you want a goofy game that is low-commitment, this might be the game for you!

Delicious in Torchbearer, by Games by Corey.

Delicious in Torchbearer is a Delicious in Dungeon inspired supplement that adds a variety of cooking centred options to Torchbearer 2E. Ideally meant for use at character creation, these rules extend and increase the focus on cooking in the game.

This game is meant to be an add-on for Torchbearer, so I’d only recommend it for your first group if you really want to get up to your neck in the amount of game that’s here. Torchbearer uses a system called Burning Wheel, and much of its mechanics involve making tough decisions regarding your resources, in the hopes that you will be able to outlast your enemies. If you want puzzles, this game can definitely provide them; many of your choices will require your characters to think carefully about their resources and the best way to go about solving problems. Character progression is slow and painstaking; perfect for groups that are in it for the long haul, but for your first game, maybe not so much.

You might also want to check out…

The Laughing Kobold, by therabidbanana.

Bug Dish: Amouse Bouche, by Ryan Khan.

Spirited Cafe, by A Couple of Drakes.

Stewpot: Tales From A Fantasy Tavern, by Takuma Okada.

Consuming A God Recommendations

My Monster Recycling Rec Post

[statisticallymorelikely]

00Q edit for @ironpe: demon!Q kidnapped

James gets the call at six in the morning, just a couple hours since he dragged himself out of the proverbial fire and back into the frying pan, the frying pan being the hotel room Q had secured for him for his post-mission wind down. Tanner's voice is haggard and grave on the other end of the line but James is not surprised. In fact, he'd been expecting something like this.

It had been years since he'd felt exposed, Q's power had been a reassuring companion in that time, but as he was escaping away on his motorcycle earlier that evening, an unease crawled up his back. He felt unprotected, a figurative shield sliding like water off his back. It was one thing to not have Q in his ear, but to not feel his presence at all was a different kind of vulnerability altogether. It was unnerving.

And so, he had been waiting for this call.

Tanner's voice washes over him as he relays details of Q's abduction, how they did it, who the assailants were and what they want in exchange. James listens idly, cleaning his guns almost on auto-pilot until he catches the only piece of information that matters to him: Q's estimated location. Finally given the scent, James goes on the hunt.

---

Q had been to church only once in his long and weary existence. It had been to tempt a priest. Having just been recently deployed to Earth, he was a trainee still. His supervisor had given him a list to accomplish: a tour of the classics, and what could be more stereotypical than convincing a priest that a few coins in his pocket was well-deserved. (After all, he took care of his flock so the flock should take care of his needs.)

What his supervisor failed to mention though was that temptations like those were best served via whispers in the wind at night while Q himself stayed right outside the window, because stepping onto consecrated land was excruciating. No, Q learned that lesson the hard way, and that pain is seared onto his memory forever, second only to Falling.

It's that same pain that's now coursing through his being, rendering him helpless on the floor of the abandoned church this terrorist group has chosen to hole up in. An outside observer would attribute his current state to the admittedly harsh beating he's been taking at the hands of their interrogator. But honestly, the blood and bruises are misleading. Endless punches and low level electrocution are nothing compared to the thrum of heaven in his bones, trying and failing to purify his wretched soul over and over again.

Finding a moment to think seems impossible and yet his mind eventually fights through the haze of pain and crawls its way toward James. He wonders how his little investment is doing. With Q incapacitated like this, his protective wards over James will surely be down. Q had inconveniently left him vulnerable during a crucial part of his mission, not that he had much choice. He hopes the madman hasn't gotten himself prematurely blown up, though it would be hilarious if he did. Maybe they can laugh about it together back in hell.

It's a little funny how much that thought comforts him.

---

James finds them in an abandoned church in a small town just outside Paris. Operatives like him are often referred to as ghosts. Terrifying yet unseen, taking enemies out quickly and quietly and then disappearing just as silently. Not this time though. This time, James is a demon. A furious tempest sent to rain down fiery judgment against those who have sinned.

He moves from room to room, searching, killing, no words, no hesitation. No need to interrogate anyone, he'll find Q when they're all dead. It doesn't take long, not with a vengeful double-oh on mission.

James opens the last door, down to the small catacombs, shoots the last two men and finally sets eyes on Q, sitting limp and lifeless in a corner.

"Q!"

He crouches down next to him, one hand coming up to check for a pulse on instinct. There isn't one. Q didn't need one, but James knows he likes to keep up appearances.

When he carries Q out of the church, there's a lump in James' throat as he looks down at the frail, bloody creature in his arms. Q may have damned him all those years ago, but they've also spent those years together, building a strange kind of trust amidst all the danger and death and bickering. He always wondered why Q didn't just let him die the moment he signed his contract, but also protected him, shared his power with him, and allowed him to do good. Now, he fears he may never get the chance to ask.

Numb, he trudges past the all the blood and the bodies, as he makes his way into the surrounding forest where he'd stashed his car. He walks past the fence, each step crushing overgrown grass underfoot getting heavier and heavier until James concedes and kneels down on the ground.

"Am I supposed to pray?" He bites out a bitter laugh, looking heavenward. "Is that what you want?!"

"No, you dolt," comes the hoarse whisper. "Just get me away from this place and I'll recover."

James gasps in relief, eyes watery as he holds Q tighter against his chest. "You prick, I thought you'd died."

"Oh, James," Q wheezes out. "I never knew you cared."

"You know what? Neither did I."

[persnicketypomelo]

hi! imagine reader trying to escape leroux erik and running into him in the catacombs 🤭 he's just as shocked to see them as they are to see him

obsession, grabbing, dark behaviour, not romantic but horror, spoilers

I'm going off of the part of the novel where Leroux describes a mermaid that he has in the water around his house or something. I think it's the one that drowned Philippe.

Encountering Erik in the Catacombs

From the wording/context I’m imagining that the Phantom has kidnapped you and is secluding you in his underground home

To escape this far you would need to be stubbornly determined

He left you at his home to run some errands, so the boat would not be at your disposal to bring you across the lake

Swimming it was then

When he had first kidnapped you, you swear that you saw a dark figure lurking at the bottom of the lake

And if you recall, he had mentioned something of a mermaid in his lake

Believing in such fairy tales as mermaids is a tall order, but from such an unusual man, you might actually believe the impossible

Whatever you faced in that murky lake, it would be better than staying confined here for a second longer

So you strip down to your undergarments and ease your way into the cold water

The water chills your skin and soddens your clothes

An uncomfortable feeling, no doubt, but nothing in comparison to the peril you soon face

Suddenly a hand grasps your ankle, pulling you down into the depths

You lash against the iron grip, kicking your feet as your life depends on it

Sinking down, you're forced to swallow in mouthfuls of lake water

I'm going to die here, at the bottom of a lake, all alone

But with a particularly strong kick, you manage to dislodge the offending hand and swim frantically to the other side of the lake

Needless to say, you were now thoroughly disturbed, and you weren't sure what was more terrifying

The fact that what you felt was certainly a human hand grabbing at you

Or the fact that Erik had such...creatures, real and in the flesh

He had certainly was a man for tricks and illusions, but this was the first scrape of real danger and potential lethality you had encountered in his traps

Nonetheless, there is no way you're going back now--not with that...thing...lurking at the bottom

And the adrenaline coursing through you propels you into the unkown

You can't go back

You can't

Sopping wet and wandering into the endless dark caverns, with no way of knowing what progress (or lack thereof) was not your ideal scenario, yet still it was progress nonetheless

The chill seeps from the uninviting cavern walls to your bones, and all you can manage to do is shiver profusely while you navigate aimlessly through the terrain

I'd like to think that, in a more horror/supernatural interpretation, the Phantom has some developed supernatural connection with the darkness

He wouldn't need to use a torch to navigate through his labryinth if he really didn't want to

In such a dark place, many metres beneath the chaotic upper floor of the opera house, every little sound can be heard through the quiet expanse

So when you hear the faint rustle of a cloak, the coldth in your skin seeps to your blood and you feel ice chill your veins through all extremities

You feel the phantom's intense eyes, filled with anger, before he confirms his presence

Thin, skeletal hands seize your wrists and your captor makes an angry, hissing sound

A snake about to strike its prey

Your captor's voice is laced with faux amusement, sardonic, as if prodding you into testing him

"Going somewhere?"

His laugh is derisive, joyless, covering a barely contained rage and hurt

"I believe, my dear, we should be heading back,"

His piercing eyes freeze your muscles, and you feel you can't move no matter how much your inner voice scream to

"We have much to discuss, and you have much to explain."

[trashfr0g]

The Endless Catacombs Chapter 3: The Fall

We're finally in the thick of things! I'm so excited to get the ACTUAL adventure started

🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋

New to The Endless Catacombs?

A graphic, dangerous mission has Red and Chloe speedrunning their enemies-to-begrudging-allies(-to-lovers?) arc in the face of death. If you like violence and blood-covered lesbians, this is the fic for you!

[mspencerdraws]

The Collector of Kings Long Past

The esoteric burial rites and the tradition of preserving the remains of Kings of the Emerald Court have proven mysterious enough that the Curator of the Royal Catacombs has become a figure of children’s ghost stories. While her occupation is noble enough, and she is a kindly individual, children far and wide tell fireside tales of “The Collector” who’ll ��steal your bones’ and make them into beautiful trinkets for her endless subterranean shelves.

–

Inspired by the telling of tall tales and the transformation of the mundane into the mythic, by saintly relics, classic spooky-season palettes, and by constant reminders that all things end.

Painted in watercolor, gouache, and colored pencil on 140lb Arches hot press paper.

The artwork is matted in grey and framed in a hand-painted, hand weathered wooden frame.

Painted for Every Day Original and as of this post, still available!

Buy the original framed painting here:

https://everydayoriginal.com/product/the-collector-of-kings-long-past/

[new-tella-us]

I'd love to hear more about the entity that resembles Damien

Hehehehehehehehe! I did not except anyone to ask but it gives me an excuse to ramble!

Okay slight TW- Implied Abuse. If you know, you know.

The entity, Damien edition. Every entity is within an infinite area, "Damien's" being the Dungeon. Mika can only enter these areas through her dreams and once she leaves she forgets all that happens so the actual Damien can't mind read her.

Mika enters the dungeon and it's an endless catacomb of stone cells holding silent shadow people. Eventually, soft sobs could be heard from the distance and as Mika gets closer, the voice becomes recognizable; it's Damien. She races through the halls until she stumbles upon a figure in what looks to be a thick red blanket. The sobbing is coming from this figure; she enters the cell, reaching out for the figure and they turn to face her.

The figure looks and sounds exactly like Damien only showing clear demonic figures, as if his glamor spell had worn off. The only major difference to his appearance is his pitch black eyes. Other differences are, of course, the big red sheet Mika's only seen once before, the tag on his left ear with either the letter O or the number 0, it's hard to tell, and the multitude of scars, bruises and bites on the few parts of his body that are exposed.

"Damien", at first, seems frightened by Mika's presence. Shuffling into the corner of his cell and holding the sheet closer to his body but as he takes a good look at Mika, his fear turns to confusion.

"Laura?"

This entity seems to know Mika's mother, and just as Mika sees them as Damien, they see her as Laura. They don't have much time to contemplate what's going on though as heavy footsteps stomp down the hall, getting closer. They aren't alone. Mika doesn't know who that could be but "Damien" does, and he is terrified. He starts shaking out of fear and hyperventilating, barely mumbling something that Mika can't understand.

As Mika prepares to defend herself and "Damien" from whatever this threat is, "Damien" shoves her under what seemed to be a makeshift bed, slightly suspended above the ground by chains connected to the wall. Then he sits in front of the bed, as if to keep her from seeing the threat.... or to keep the threat from seeing her.

The footsteps approach the cage and the air becomes heavy with ash, Mika couldn't tell if the threat was doing that, or "Damien". From the little she could see from the bed, the threat seems to be wearing a long cape or shall as she could see the cloth as is moves with the legs of the threat.

The threat itself started as another, bigger, shadow but it slowly made a form, the amorphous blob solidified and turned gold. ...James? She dared to peek from beyond the bed, praying to not be seen, and she was correct. This person...this thing. It looked like James, but more threatening and monstrous. He snarled like an animal, yanking at the bars and paced from outside the cage, as if he was trying to get in but couldn't.

She scampered back under the bed as he paced out of her vision only to pace back with a new appearance. Dark gold legs turned to blood red as the threat had taken up Erik's form next. From Erik to Sam to Matthew back to James, this threat changed forms every time he exited Mika's vision. The only consistent part of him was that cape he wore and the constant manic anger.

The last thing Mika would see before this dream ended was the threat gripping the bars of the cell and staring at "Damien". Mika peeked from the bed again only to see nothing but the frightening glare of the monster outside the cell. Mika yelped, flinching and banging her head on the stone base of the bed then..

She shot up awake. Now back in her room with only the faint memory of that horrific glare. She sighed, thankful it was just a nightmare.

[thegoldenavenger]

I wanted to draw art of this before vomiting words all over a post but!!! Undertale Binghe au

Just, Luo Binghe falling, not into the abyss, but into the underground. He's supposed to run into Shen Qingqiu, who guides him through the Ruins, tricking him the whole while. They are supposed to fight at the Ruins' exit, Shen Qingqiu snarling invective his way acting aloof and cold, at once prideful, arrogant, jealous, spiteful. Telling Luo Binghe that he can't make it out, that no one ever can especially not the likes of him. Luo Binghe is supposed to win, killing Shen Qingqiu before stepping outside the ruins door and leaving nothing (and no one) behind.

But instead, he meets a Shen Qingqiu who takes his tutorial duties very seriously! A Shen Qingqiu who sort of coddles Luo Binghe, and teaches him the puzzle mechanics of the underground, who has a small shimmering hope that he can just live with Luo Binghe here, in the cozy ruins of his home, reading and cooking together. This is definitely not how it happened before, even when Luo Binghe was new to this endless loop of nightmares.

But, whatever this new game, Luo Binghe finds the exit of the Ruins. And Shen Qingqiu fights him.

(The leitmotif here is Heartache, and oh! Shen Qingqiu's heart aches. How naive of him, to think he could sequester the protagonist in the small starter ruins. How short sighted of him to try and stifle the young hero... maybe next time...)

Luo Binghe wins, of course, but this time things are different. Maybe. He's been through this so many times it's hard to tell. But had Shen Qingqiu ever looked so sad beneath his aloof expression? Had his entreaties ever really meant anything? Why had he sounded just as trapped as Luo Binghe?

Luo Binghe finds himself with new, different memories as he walks out of the Ruins. They plague him as he makes his way through the next area. Each battle he encounters he remembers, "just stall for time and this master will be there to help." Each simpering fool that blocks his path he recalls, "just practice talking! Look, this teacher will go first."

He runs into Shang Qinghua, who cowers and runs from him. Mu Qingfang, who watches him with a cooly detached eye. Liu Qingge, who always strikes first and doesn't give in. Qi Qingqi, mocking him from her hiding places. Wei Qingwei is surprisingly easy to defeat after it all. And Yue Qingyuan, who looks straight through Luo Binghe no matter how many times Luo Binghe marches back through the gardens to him.

And all the while Shen Qingqiu's voice in his head: come! This master will guide you through these catacombs. Do not be afraid, my child. Which does Binghe prefer? Oh, but Binghe would not turn his nose up over one or the other? Truthfully, when this master first saw Binghe... it felt like seeing an old friend for the first time.

Prove yourself to me, that you are strong enough to survive!

All Luo Binghe has been doing is survive. The next time Yue Qingyuan strikes him down, Luo Binghe wonders if he, too, can do something different. Be something different.

Once again he awakes after the long fall in the bamboo grove at the beginning of the Ruins. Once again the Shen Qingqiu he meets is not the one he is used to.

(For his part, Shen Qingqiu isn't sure he really remembers anything from his first time around. But the very fact that vague familiarity keeps hitting him makes him suspect.)

Shen Qingqiu is still bafflingly kind to him. Taking his hand and leading him through the puzzles and traps. Stepping between him and any encounters might be troublesome. "Binghe prefers— oh, you never said... well. Binghe wouldn't turn his nose at either if he had a chance, would he?"

Luo Binghe stays, a little longer, in the ruins this time. He lets Shen Qingqiu coddle him. Brush his hair. Share tea and books and snacks with him.

But in the end, Luo Binghe has to leave the Ruins, and Shen Qingqiu has to fight.

And everytime, the Ruins is left without its Caretaker.

Luo Binghe keeps waking up in the bamboo grove, enough times he feels as if just underneath the ground is a pile of his own discarded bodies. Shen Qingqiu keeps showing up, and keeps smiling, and keeps leading him to his home.

The thing is, Luo Binghe thinks that this Shen Qingqiu would keep him, if Luo Binghe didn't have to leave the Ruins. This Shen Qingqiu would keep him in his slightly disheveled home, reading to him by the fireplace, and complimenting his cooking.

So, Luo Binghe tries. He tries to stay for as long as he can. When Shen Qingqiu takes him by the hand and leads him past the traps, says in his impossibly collected voice, "This master has always wanted to be a teacher... well, perhaps that isn't surprising." Luo Binghe tries smiling and says back, "Then this one will be grateful to learn from Shizun."

It is the first thing Luo Binghe has said, directly.

From then on, Luo Binghe talks through everything. He calls Shen Qingqiu Shizun, and asks questions about everything he feels he is allowed to, and, with this Shen Qingqiu, there doesn't seem to be a limit. He asks about the Ruins, the bamboo, the books in Shen Qingqiu's cabinet. He asks about the recipe cards on the kitchen counter. He asks about the boarded room down the hall. He asks about the journal with heavily red-lined corrections and critiques.

Shizun answers all his questions honestly, even if it is with a simple, "this master has forgotten."

They both want it to stay like this. But in the end, it cannot.

"Does Binghe not want to ask about the exit to the Ruins?" Shizun says one day.

Luo Binghe is, perhaps not quite as surprised as he should be. He always has to leave, after all. Still, he tries.

"This one doesn't need to."

"Hmm. I suppose you wouldn't."

Still, it happens. Binghe cannot find Shen Qingqiu anywhere, until he finds his Shizun at the exit of the Ruins. His face is cold. Aloof. Familiar.

"This master had thought to destroy the door," he says when Binghe approaches him. Luo Binghe cannot help the way his body tenses. He won't be trapped any more than he is forced to be by this hellish circumstance. As much as he wanted to play domestic with a Shen Qingqiu that seemed willing to indulge him, he liked knowing he could leave whenever he wanted.

"There's no need," Luo Binghe says.

"This master supposes not. What obstacle could stand in Luo Binghe's way if he wanted to leave? Hmm? What's that look for? Don't tell me Binghe doesn't want to leave?"

And the thing is, Luo Binghe does want to leave. He cannot stay in the Ruins forever. He has to leave the underground. But... "I don't want to fight you again." This is suddenly the most important thing. Luo Binghe does not want to fight Shen Qingqiu. Every time they fight, Luo Binghe wins, and that means killing Shen Qingqiu for the freedom to escape the Ruins.

He's done it more times than he can count, but this time it is too much, and, horrifyingly, he feels his heat spring behind his eyes.

"Oh," Shen Qingqiu says and he drops his fan.

The leimotif here is Heartache, and oh. Shen Qingqiu's heart aches.

"Then we won't fight. You don't have to prove anything to me. Luo Binghe is free to leave the Ruins he does not have to worry that this master will stop him."

"What?"

Shen Qingqiu reaches out to pat Luo Binghe's head, smoothes down his hair, and then hugs him. Luo Binghe stands, shocked.

"We don't have to fight?" He asks, again, just to be sure.

"Of course not. Does Binghe not listen when this Master speaks? Does Binghe only know how to fight with weapons instead of his words? Now, be good, when you leave."

Luo Binghe leaves the Ruins and Shen Qingqiu.

Luo Binghe didn't have to fight to leave. Did he ever have to fight at all? Or, he supposes fighting may be inevitable. But the killing wasn't, surely. If the Shen Qingqiu that Luo Binghe had first met, cold and spiteful, could turn around and hold Binghe's face so gently, so too could Luo Binghe find his way through the underground with a little more mercy?

Luo Binghe actually tries talking, this go around. He had tried it the first couple of times he had been made to traverse the Underground as young and naive as he'd been. But there was only so many times one could bash their heads against the likes of Liu Qingge before one had to give in to the inevitable. But was it inevitable?

Shang Qinghua smiles at him when they meet the first time (this time). He still looks nervous, apprehensive, but not terrified as he always had been before.

Shang Qinghua loops him into conversation, gossips with him about some of the locals, tells him about a collectable he'd never found before. Shang Qinghua, the same rat who hisses at him in the hall before Yue Qingyuan's garden, that judges him like the cowardly hippocrit he is—Shang Qinghua invites him to dinner, and makes nervous jokes with him.

Shang Qinghua sits across from him and says, "there's this door, by the ruins, it's always shut. But sometimes, if I knock on it, someone answers. I read him some of my novel—no you can't see it—and he tears it to shreds. Says it's something to occupy his time but... it's the most time anyone spends on me, you know? Then he asks me—well, tells me, really—that if anyone comes through the door I should maybe watch out for them? But, I'm, haha, a coward, so I tell him to shove it. Whoever could make it through him certainly doesn't need my help out here. But I thought... anyone who's lonely enough to put up with me and my shitty writing well. They have a certain integrity. I don't really know what I'm saying but—I'm glad it's you, who came out."

Luo Binghe tries talking to Mu Qingfang who is curious and suspicious into turns, but ultimately subsides when Luo Binghe recalls one of Shen Qingqiu's rarer books so he can properly quizz Luo Binghe on his recollections of its contents.

Liu Qingge is the first person to really drive Luo Binghe's new conviction to the edge. The man doesn't let Luo Binghe get a word in before he's being engaged in battle.

Surprisingly, Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua seem keen on helping him navigate around their mercurial martial brother. Mu Qingfang offers Luo Binghe various healing items to recover from encounters and advice on how to avoid him. Shang Qinghua tries his hand at bumbling deception ("I told him what you were wearing the last time we met! You've changed by now, right? You're very smart of course you've disguised yourself!") and mediocre distraction.

Luo Binghe still thinks won't be able to get through without falling into the inevitable cycle of violence again. He tells Shang Qinghua "Shizun said I should just stall and he'd be there to help but! That's not how it works at all. Even if we didn't fight he's not here with me! I'm still alone. And Liu Qingge wont! Listen! To anything I have to say!"

Luo Binghe doesn't say that he's afraid he'll have to kill Liu Qingge, and he'll be able to justify everything else all at once again. That he'll go back and see Shen Qingqiu and he'll have to kill him, too. To complete it all. Luo Binghe is so busy brooding he doesn't see Shang Qinghua's considering eye.

"You didn't fight at all?"

And then, the next time Liu Qingge corners Luo Binghe and Luo Binghe just cannot figure out how to disengage without murdering the man, someone throws a fan into Liu Qingge's face.

"Hah?" Liu Qingge sputters and whirls around.

"What are you doing, harassing some kid?"

And Luo Binghe knows that voice it's—

"Shizun?"

"Shen Qingqiu?"

That's him... standing for the first time out of the Ruins, looking shockingly disgruntled. He makes his way to Binghe and reaches put to pet Binghe's head.

"What am I? What are you doing? Shen Qingqiu! You disappeared for years, Yue Qingyuan—"

Shen Qingqiu levels the bitchiest glare at Liu Qingge that the man actually shuts up mid sentence. Then he sniffs and turns back to Luo Binghe.

"Binghe did very good, distracting that man until this Master could arrive."

"You're—shizun is here?" Never once before had Shen Qingqiu left the Ruins.

Shen Qingqiu's gaze softens.

"This master told you that he would guide Binghe through the catacombs and help you navigate the puzzles and traps here in the underground, did he not?" At binghe's nod he continues, "Well, what kind of master would this one be if he left Binghe to figure this out on his own."

(Shang Qinghua had hammered on the Ruins' door hard enough to bloody his fist. "BRO! Bro? You didn't even fight? Bro, this Luo Binghe has no idea what to do with Liu Qingge. He's getting his ass kicked!" "What do you want me to do about it?" "Anything! Before he decides to go back to murdering his way through the underground!" "He what?" "I mean—hypothetically. He could start—whatever! You're the one who told him his shizun would come kiss everything better—take responsibility for my son!")

Liu Qingge backs off begrudgingly, as Shen Qingqiu shepherds Luo Binghe away from the fight to gather reconnaissance and allies. That is, to have a gossip session with Shang Qinghua and Mu Qingfang.

Shen Qingqiu sweet talks Mu Qingfang into giving Luo Binghe a special item and then briefly refreshes his memory by yelling at Shang Qinghua and then starts helping Luo Binghe speed run the rest of his journey underground.

It's a little anti climatic, actually.

Shen Qingqiu distracts Liu Qingge everytime the man pops in to harrass Binghe's forward movement, entangling the him in confusing conversation and beguiling gestures until Binghe has enough time to sneak away. Shen Qingqiu waits for the right moment before accusing Liu Qingge of not being able to befriend Luo Binghe, egging on his competitive spirit until Liu Qingge accidentally becomes fond of Luo Binghe for his own merits.

That accomplished, Shen Qingqiu takes Luo Binghe through the rest of the underground. He guides Binghe to hidden items and fun places Luo Binghe had never bothered with before. He cuts Qi Qingqi's encounter in half with Mu Qingfang's special item, and turns Wei Qingwei's usually disappointing battle into a fun game that rewards Luo Binghe with his own spirit sword.

Shen Qingqiu drags Luo Binghe across the underground, sometimes back tracking, making sure Binghe is exposed to every part while still plowing through encounters. Luo Binghe, for his part, grips onto his new sword and follows his Shizun with starry eyes.

He's never felt so refreshed, he's never seen this horrid place in this light before. The horrendous slog of fighting and dying has morphed into a dream like sequence of moments he's building in his heart. He never knew how funny Shang Qinghua is, how knowledgeable Mu Qingfang is. That Qi Qingqi was pretty amiable when one approached with the perfect balance of respect. That Zheng Yang fit so perfectly in Luo Binghe's hand.

He could probably leave the amount of times Liu Qingge drops in on them to get into an argument with Shen Qingqiu, but even then... Luo Binghe hadn't known Liu Qingge could talk that much.

Or that, on Liu Qingge, a sternly frowning face could mean care.

"Yue Qingyuan is strong so. Here." Liu Qingge drops a set of light armor at Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe's feet in a clatter.

"Oh, Temmie Armor?" Shen Qingqiu says, and helps Luo Binghe into it.

"Don't..." Liu Qingge crosses his arm and scowls at everything in his radius. "Don't die. And don't kill anyone."

He leaves before Shen Qingqiu or Luo Binghe can say anything in reply. Shizun looks at Luo Binghe wryly, his fan already spread out to hid me his face.

"Well. Are you ready, Binghe?" He asks.

Luo Binghe takes a moment to think about it. Everytime before his battles with Yue Qingyuan have ended in stalemates, or an abyss so never ending Luo Binghe had chosen to start over just the same.

But this time he isn't going with the intention of winning by force, and this time he isn't going alone.

Shen Qingqiu is standing by his side, waiting for his answer, and Luo Binghe knows if he says that he isn't ready yet Shen Qingqiu will find another little diversion to help distract them both until Luo Binghe is ready. Maybe it will be another dinner date with Shang Qinghua, bullying the man's latest manuscript. Or maybe it will be getting Liu Qingge to chase them through the glowing crystal-lit caverns once more.

Luo Binghe still must face Yue Qingyuan and find his way free of the Underground, but somewhere along the way his priorities have shifted. He isn't the only one trapped down here, and, even if he'd known this before it hadn't mattered. Now, he realises he could potentially help free more than just himself.

Now, when Luo Binghe frees himself from the underground, he doesn't want to be alone when he steps into the sunlight.

(Shen Qingqiu is definitely the kind of undertale fan who never played the games himself but did watch all the playthroughs he could. He only has a general concept of the no mercy route (mostly bc Shang qinghua is not Toby "Radiation" Fox so his version of undertale is not nearly as impactful so a lot of the content is hidden or was dropped before released but also a little because he couldn't stand the emotional ringer of watching a heartless lets player kill his favorite characters!) so he thinks Luo Binghe is a generally sweet if misguided kid and does NOT realize binghe has been on an infinite no mercy loop through the underground. He wouldn't care if he did know, though, because he's crazy for Luo Binghe. That's just the kind of thing one does in a time loop!

Liu Qingge is so startled by Shen Qingqiu because he is so different from the stories he's heard about him. He keeps hearing people talk about how Shen Qingqiu abandoned Yue Qingyuan, how cold and merciless he was after Yue Qingyuan lost the war against Tianlang-Jun. Liu Qingge, ever Yue Qingyuan's right hand man, had personally vowed to avenge Yue Qingyuan should the chance arise. It's definitely why Liu Qingge is so determined to kill Luo Binghe himself. Yue Qingyuan has had to reap all the demonic cultivation to free themselves from the underground all on his own. To shoulder that kind of task by himself and then be faced with a child—with a demon with the face of a child, at least... well, the least Liu Qingge can do is share in that miserable task. And then Luo Binghe is trying to talk instead of fight like a demon should, and then Shen Qingqiu shows up not at all like the rumors painted him to be. Liu Qingge is so confused.

Shang Qinghua is having the roughest time. He isn't immune to the reset mind-wipe, but as the game dev he absolutely knows what's going on just with context clues. So he's just trapped in this nightmare world watching as everyone he knows is murdered over and over until one reset his door buddy is nice to him and Luo Binghe isn't trying to kill him on sight! Shen Qingqiu, why does your system let you dodge multiple plot lines???

Luo Binghe does end up freeing the Underground, that's just not the focus of this story haha. Something something zuzhi-lang, something something Huan Hua Palace, something something Yue Qingyuan falling over himself at the sight of Shen Qingqiu who is definitely NOT privy to the original goods' backstory haha)

[val-of-the-north]

Caitha's connections to Filianore and Nito

Me and @katyspersonal have been developing more reasons for Caitha to be Filianore's mother, but before we do that we need to establish a different theory about Caitha's parents. I think one of them had to be Nito. Let's go over everything:

Caitha is a Goddess connected with death and darkness

Nito controls death, which is a power aligned with the dark. Caitha is revered as a goddess of grief, who sheds tears for the dead, and allows people a peaceful departure to the afterlife. However, her nature is pervaded by a kind of darkness that makes some doubt her true nature, to the point they even assume she is some sort of demoness/evil goddess. In fact, her chime in DS2 is exclusively an hex catalyst, which are all sorts of dark-aligned spells.

I think the only way to explain Caitha's close ties to death and her conflicting nature as a goddess with dark elements to her is to assume she is connected to Nito in some way. After all, the Gods/Lords aren't naturally aligned with the dark in this universe.

There are some people who might put into question her validity as a goddess, since she was introduced in DS2, and in that game it is insinuated that some people could also go down in history as gods through the passing of lore, which is what happened with Pharis, morphing into Evlana, Goddess of the Hunt. After all, if Caitha had been a normal human her connection to darkness would be a no-brainer! That's just humanity's true nature.

However, Evlana and only Evlana is outright identified as a human-turned-god, and it's the devs who spell it out for us too. And even more damning is her prominence in DS3 as a key figure in the Way of White, which dispells any doubt. Gwyndolin, the new Allfather after Lloyd, would probably know who is and isn't a genuine god, and treat them accordingly. She seems to be the only other prominent goddess at the time outside of him and Gwynevere, so she had to have been relevant to Gwyndolin's family specifically.

Nito is connected to family

There's a belief that Pinwheel is some father trying to revive his dead family, and this is why he is wearing family masks, but I think the idea isn't really that satisfying at all. The masks are designed after Greek theater masks, and simply depict archetypes...

However, they could be depicting something indeed, but instead of Pinwheel's family, they might be depicting Nito's. All the family masks prominently appear in the Catacombs on various statues and traps.

Several Pinwheels also appear to be guarding the room before Nito's boss arena, implying there's more of them than just the one we defeated previously.

These also can't be clones of the first Pinwheel because they have full health and didn't dissipate after his death, unlike the ones he makes during his boss fight. And why would Pinwheel defend the entrance to the lord he betrayed? It's stated that the one found in the Catacombs is a traitor who stole Nito's power for himself.

To me, it implies that all of Nito's acolytes, his powerful necromancers, wear the family masks in reverence to him.

And these masks aren't the only set of three things connected to Nito, he and the number 3 actually go hand-in-hand. Inside his boss room we can find three coffins! The big one, where Nito sleeps, a smaller one (but still much larger than a human coffin) besides him, and a third one, tucked away and hidden from view.

Water's strange prominence

Nito seems to have a passive connection to water. In the deepest part of the Tomb of the Giants, there's a shallow pool of water where an endless army of baby skeletons rises from, there are pools of water in his own boss room, and even the Catacombs feature a lot of flowing water and pools. In DS2 we meet the Milfanito and Brightbugs, creations of the Gravelord who inhabit the Shrine of Amana, a giant underground lake. However, Nito himself does not display any real water powers, but perhaps his wife might have.

Looking at the mask of the mother, we can notice how different she looks compared to the father and child. It's harder to make any feature out, and she seems to be wearing a crown of some sort. This crown features a wave-like pattern too.

Coupled with the large coffin besides Nito's, it's safe to say his wife must have been one of the people of Anor Londo, one of the Gods. It is also very fair that Death would find a partner in a Goddess of Water, an element often connected with life. After all, Nito did create life at some point, with the Fenito, Milfanito and Brightbugs, and it wasn't simply a matter of reanimating corpses like he usually does. Perhaps that was allowed through this specific union. In fact, the pool of endlessly-spawning skeleton babies could have been birthing grounds for these beings. Only, the pool has probably gone dry from her absence, so it's only capable of... that.

Nito is a Giant

Nito himself isn't a Lord/God but rather a Giant, evidenced from his domain (the Tomb of the Giants), the fact he was the first being to die making him incredibly ancient, and his affinity with darkness which is irreconcilable with the light-based humanoids. Sure, in Japanese it's stated that the Tomb of the Giants is where the Gods were buried, but the name of the area is still "of the Giants".

If Nito was a god, and it was a burial ground exclusive to gods, the area could have easily been named "Tomb of the Gods". Not to mention the various Giant Skeletons found patrolling the area, some of them even seemingly more monstrous and primal. The size of his coffin also feels like it's bold-enough evidence to positively make this conclusion.

Giants seem to have been the first humanoid race to rise from the First Flame, and in DS2 we see what are probably the most ancient race of Giants we know of, who don't seem to truly die in the traditional sense, only entering a "different" stage of life and growing seeds to grow new giants from. Their souls also have a small dark core surrounded by a mass of light.

I think they must have been the ancestors of all other beings, born in a similar manner to the golems in Drangleic and Eleum Loyce, back when souls first appeared. Maybe they inhabited the wooden husks of the Archtrees and gave them life. The DS1/3 Giants would come shortly after, still holding both light and dark within, then Lords/Gods and Pygmies, who evolved to lean more towards one of the two elements. Those Giants would be the first beings with the ability to "die" then, instead of living once again like the DS2 Giants, and Nito would be the first of them to perish, as his title suggests. He is, after all, the "first of the dead".

Some people might think the title simply means he is the first among the dead, but Wolnir actually seems to confirm it's meant to be taken literally. While lost in the international translation, his soul mentions a desire to be "the last of the dead", which parallels Nito.

(The retranslation is from LastProtagonist's Bloodborne document, in the Dark Souls WIP section, you can find it here [x])

The translation we got does share a similar sentiment, with him being keen to outlive everyone, but the Nito connection is lost. So yes, Nito was the first to die, and that strenghtens the connection with the Giants, who appear to be the most ancient humanoid race.

This explains why he would be able to withstand the dark that comes with death, and even prefer it to the light, judging from how dark his domains usually are (Tomb of the Giants, but also the Undead Crypt). It would also explain why a potential offspring with a God would be able to harbor both the light and the dark without issue.

Caitha is death and water

So, if Nito rules over death and his wife controls water, their child would show an affinity for water, no? Indeed, Caitha has certain connections to the water element, and the most evident one comes in the form of tears.

Caitha's tears have magical traits, and increase power or defense the closer to death one is depending on if they were shed for the undeserving dead or for those who have lost loved ones, tears of sorrow and grief.

One of her miracles, Tears of Denial, also allowed the dying a few precious moments to say their proper farewells to their loved ones. If her mother was indeed a goddess of water and life, it would make sense she'd have the power to grant such a thing. She would be holding time back just enough for all of this to be possible.

Her last miracle is Caressing Tears, which cleanses the body from all kinds of poisons, from bleeding wounds and even from frostbite.

This one is probably the most interesting, as it shares the same function and (almost) icon with an old sorcery featured in DS1, Remedy, developed by Yulva the Sealer to help the sick in Blighttown.

The spell, similarly to Ingward's Resist Curse, appears to use a blue, splash-like particle. The Sealers of New Londo seem to have been healers prior, and may have had some control over water, since it's what was used to seal away New Londo. The cleansing nature of water is likely what allowed them to heal people, and might also be what allows Caitha to heal the sick as well.

The Cathedral of the Deep was dedicated to Caitha

As I stated before, Caitha gained a lot of relevance in DS3, becoming one of the most important gods in Carim, the new "capital" for the Way of White. This newfound relevance is evident when looking at the Cathedral of the Deep. This Cathedral wasn't always dedicated to the worship of the Deep, as the Deacons once watched over and sealed that corruption away before being touched by it themselves.

Many statues of weeping figures can be found inside the building. The most prominent one is a weeping maiden, seen all throughout the Cathedral both inside and outside.

Most of them are in-fact covered up by a red cloth, as if denouncing their affiliation to her. This enimity towards Caitha is further reinforced through the efforts of hiding away Caitha's Chime, considered anathema by one of the three Archdeacons.

The in-game description mentions the Archbishop but it was simply a bit that the localizers lost while translating the text. In Japanese the kanji used is the same for the Archdeacons as opposed to that used for the Archbishop of Carim. I have a whole post about that actually ahah, and it also gives more insight on the Church of the Deep: [x]

But yeah, in short, the Cathedral was once dedicated to Caitha. The large graveyard outside is probably further evidence of this, seeing as her domain is mourning and grief. But she was also someone who healed and cleansed, which is possibly what the Deacons were doing before turning to the worship of the Deep. The Cathedral also features pools of water within, which feels all too relevant after all our previous discussions about Caitha's potential mother and her own connection to the element of water.

The Deep and water

The Deep itself is strongly connected to water. What Aldrich saw was an age of the Deep Sea, and the Murkmen who dwell within grow all sorts of barnacles and what seems to be mussels on their bodies.

It's said it was once a peaceful place that has been corrupted, and now filth and abominations reside within. Some assume it was Aldrich himself that corrupted it, but I doubt a single man could have such power, no matter how abominable and twisted he was. What likely happened to the Deep is that the stagnant nature of the world caused it to stagnate as well. The concept of "穢れ" (kegare) is very common in these games.

So, the Deep is connected with water. The Deacons of Caitha were safeguarding it in her Cathedral before it corrupted them. I think the Deep was once good, and that spells like Remedy were drawing from it... but signs of corruption were already beginning in the form of the Vagrants. They have always been bizarre creatures, with a very clear sea-life motif to them. It's my belief that they were some of the original inhabitants of the Deep before it went bad.

Vagrants appear where players have died and lost plenty of humanity. These crab-like creatures might have first found the Human Dregs, the heaviest things within the human body, consumed them, and got a taste for them.

Crabs are a very common bottom feeder after all, eating all sorts of stuff that sinks into whatever body of water they inhabit. At the time of DS1 there were probably less dregs to be found as the cycle was still young and not as stagnant, so to seek more they must have crawled out in search of fresh humanity. It's worth noting the core of murky darkness inside them, perhaps an early sign of the corruption to come.

Filianore, her powers and her egg

With all of this cleared out, we can finally talk about Filianore, who we believe is the daughter of Gwyn and Caitha. Filianore is a pretty mysterious figure, and her powers seem to be a bit unclear. She has a sacred chime that boosts healing miracles (half of which are connected to Gwynevere), enanchment miracles (seemingly only Sacred Oath, related to the Firstborn) and the one cure miracle in the game, which belongs to Caitha.

Filianore herself seems to have been affected by darkness at least somewhat, with black streaks coming out of her closed eyes, and the large egg with a dark core within, very reminiscent of the Vagrants we discussed earlier.

I think Filianore inherited some affinity with the Dark from her mother's side, which was probably one of the reasons she was given to the Pygmies instead of someone like Gwynevere. Her powers must have also been about the manipulation and distorsion of time itself, which could explain why the Ringed City seems to be in a better condition than the rest of the world, which piled up together into the Dreg Heap. Like Caitha and her Tears of Denial, she might have had the ability to manipulate time, though instead of reversing death for a short while she could make time flow slowly. Both are holding a specific process back (death for Caitha and time for Filianore). I think it's her blood relation to Gwyn that allowed her to master this power so effectively, as time only exists the way it does because of Fire.

Maybe Gwyn sought to keep the Pygmies stuck in a time bubble that would keep them always behind everyone. I believe he didn't lie to Filianore when he said he'd be back for her, but he simply wished to bide his time to find a way to conquer the Dark before the end of his Age, something that never came to pass. So when we see the Ringed City, we are seeing a point in time that's way behind the current one. Despite that, we can tell a long time has passed in this time bubble too by the state of disrepair of the city, as well as the presence of an advancing Deep.

The egg itself is really interesting. If Vagrants are from the Deep, thus are connected with water, her holding one of them since before any corruption would have started polluting the world is very interesting. Maybe this power or gift relates less to her mother Caitha and more to her grandmother. It seems to act as a seal of some sort, as when the egg finally breaks Filianore is able to wake up. However, this causes time to start flowing again all at once, causing us to jump super forward in time and find ourselves in the ashen wasteland that we see at the end of the Ringed City DLC.

[cienie-isengardu]

Cracked Mirror of Black, Cold Soul, p.4

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

Shang Tsung prized himself as a man that needed only a few hours to figure out the people around him. It didn’t work out with Damashi, but that was an understandable exception. Everyone else though? Piece of cake. 

Queen Sindel? A desperate mother awaiting the miracle cure, grieving wife blaming everyone else for her tragedy, ruthless empress and naive woman in one, who had no idea how life tasted beyond her palace’s walls. Princess Mileena, torn apart by her doubts and forbidden love, so eager to prove herself, so afraid of failure. General Shao, no less naive than the queen, no less full of his ego and military bullshit that made Shang Tsung see a point in Havik’s endless tirade about oppression of the masses. They all were nothing more than pawns he put on Damashi's chessboard with a few words here, some sweet-talk there. 

He thought the same about Lin Kuei Grandmaster. Just another easy catch. It did not occur to him then why his beloved - treacherous - Damashi, knew so much about the man. Why, when she spoke about Sub-Zero, her voice carried a warmth Shang Tsung had never felt when they discussed other people, much more vital to their plans. 

It was easy to say the right words, when Damashi prepared him and Quan Chi so well for the meeting with Lin Kuei. But there was no more Damashi he could trust, no more wisdom he craved like a thirsty man would worship the smallest drop of water.

What once felt as just an easy temptation, now was a conundrum he had no idea how to solve. 

It took him weeks to see patterns in Sub-Zero’s behavior, which infuriated him to no end, but couldn’t be helped. After all, the man’s visits were irregular, and so often happened behind his back. He never could be sure what disappeared from the deadening shelves, what secrets the man looked for when traveled the vast catacombs tunnels. All Shang Tsung knew was that Sub-Zero came and went as he pleased - no deadly trap nor his own magic could stop the Lin Kuei Grandmaster apparently.  

But the longer Sub-Zero lingered on the island, the more he understand about the intruder. And lately his Maybe-Ally-Maybe-Not lingered more and more. To Shang Tsung’s joy and irritation equally. 

As far as Shang Tsung remembered, once he left his hometown, he was always alone. Even as Sindel's trusted man, he lived all by himself, far away from the luxury palace and treacherous court. Something the foolish queen took as a sign of his humble nature when in truth letting people into his private space made him feel sick. He wasn’t afraid of people, quite the opposite. There was fun in gaining the trust of fools, in leading them the wrong way. To see how far he could push them before they regretted their good faith. To notice the patterns in their behavior and use that, exploit, play on their fears, shatter the dreams. All the same he was exploited in the past. No, Shang Tsung was not afraid of people when they came into his life and walked right away. But sharing with someone his home, eating from the same plate, letting an intruder to become something less unknown, something almost tamed made his skin crawl. 

The longer Sub-Zero stayed at his island - not hidden between shelves, not walking from shadow to shadow, but openly in sight, the more aware Shang Tsung became of his surroundings. There was an incomprehensible need to impress the other man and everything seemed to work against the sorcerer. Suddenly all the dirty dishes forgotten for days stressed him, the foul smell of his laboratory irritated the nostrils. The great, rich rooms were too messy, the corridors too dusty, the pantry too empty of food.

Sub-Zero said nothing of those. But his eyes always narrowed at the sight of each imperfection and to Shang Tsung’s dismay, the cryomancer seemed to see everything, no matter how small, how irrelevant was the sorcerer’s shortcoming. It was a drastic difference to living under all-seeing eyes of Damashi, when the smallest praise made his heart beat furiously fast, when the tiniest smile warmed his black, cold soul like a sun warmed the frozen earth after a long winter. 

Those two were alike like day and night, and yet both captured Shang Tsung’s attention, both made him eager to prove his worth, to impress. With Damashi, kindness was a wicked spell that possessed the sorcerer’s mind. There was a hidden goal, but he was a bewitched fool to see it until too late. With Sub-Zero, Shang Tsung had no idea where this weird fixation came from. The man was a rude, cold bastard. Never impressed, never amused, never truly smiling. Sharing the secrets of others only to steal from Shang Tsung his own. 

The Lin Kuei Grandmaster resembled him a wild beast. Cunning and dangerous, not yet ready to attack but at the same time, not tamed enough to feel safe around.

Shang Tsung liked to think putting up with cryomancer was a pure pragmatism on his part. Sub-Zero did save the sorry asses of Shao and Reiko and their loyal officers, when the foolish General got caught by Sindel and imprisoned. Shang Tsung did not even think twice about his allies when escaping the prison because why should he? Shao wasn’t going to risk his life to save the sorcerer, and so would not Quan Chi or Nitara or Rain or Havik. The Lin Kuei Grandmaster however did, either to amuse himself by breaking into the most impregnable place Outworld had or understood they all needed to stick together against the Fire Lord and his pitiful yet powerful allies. The alliance with Sub-Zero had its merit and one could never be sure when such an ally would come in hand. Not that Shang Tsung planned to get caught any soon.

He liked to think he was the smart one in the room, the pragmatic tactician setting traps for a wild beast so he could tame the cryomancer and use for his own purposes. But the last events taught him a precious lesson: arrogance led only to failure and there was no need to repeat the same mistakes. Who was the hunter here and who the wild beast was a blurred line. Because the same as he tried to exploit the cryomancer, Sub-Zero lingered at the island to asset sorcerer’s weakness, to find out the littlest crack in his self-confidence and break in all the same as he broke into the impregnable fortress of Lei Chin Prison. 

It was a game; dangerous and exciting, promising a worthy reward… but only if won. 

For each sweet promise of revenge, Sub-Zero had a cold reason to not trust again. For each offer to destroy Shirai Ruy came a harsh grunt to fuck off from Lin Kuei matters. For each complaint about the mess, the sorcerer hissed and puffed like an angry cat. For each little secret of others, Shang Tsung needed to bargain and pay dearly for it.

They fought over petty things, they argued over shared ambition, and then ate from the same bowl, and lived in the same space. Like it was the natural order of things. It felt wrong how right it was.  All because one stubborn cryomancer walked into Shang Tsung’s life and in spite of everything, still didn’t walk away like he should. 

The sorcerer never had before a significant one, or friend nor even a roommate. He was not used to sharing the same living place with anyone… well, maybe beside the diabolic cat that once walked into his life without invitation. 

(But the cat was a whole different story that he still had a hard time to believe in sometimes.)

The presence of Lin Kuei Grandmaster drove Shang Tsung mad. It made him feel better. Above everything else, Sub-Zero simply confused him as hell. 

[psychiclounge]

I don't see a whole lot of fanmission discussion on here, which is a bummer considering they're such a huge part of the classic Thief community and why it's endured so long. With some of the Black Parade hype recently, I think now is the perfect time for this- here's my personal list of TDP/TMA fanmission recs! Not in any particular order (aside from the first 3-5 or so for each game, which are my personal all-time favorites) these are just taken from my highest rated fanmissions in FMSel. Each one links to a Thief Guild page where you can find the mission briefing, screenshots, and downloads.

Thief Gold: Ascend the Dim Valley Endless Rain Rose Garden The Scarlet Cascabel The Black Parade Catacombs of Knoss Alcazar Chalice of Souls Making a Profit The Sound of a Burrick in a Room Whispers Below the Cobblestone Between These Dark Walls Dirty Money Falling, In Love Autumn in Lampfire Hills

Thief 2: Compulsory Egress Into the Odd Bad Debts, and its sequel Disorientation (part of the Talbot series by Melan, along with TG FM Rose Garden) The Violent End of Duncan Malveine Feast of Pilgrims Ominous Bequest, and its sequel Broken Triad Rose Cottage Behind Closed Doors The Turning of the Leaves King Abedzen's Tomb Legacy of Knoss (sequel to TG FM Catacombs of Knoss) The Ties That Bind (the first FM I recall ever playing and, imo, a cute introduction to FMs as a whole) Old Habits and Dead Wives Vanishing Point All For a Night's Sleep The Last Lighthouse Keeper Cracks in the Glass Bloodmist Tower Finals at the Academy Heist at Hilbert's Highrise Hotel The Sun Within and the Sun Without Malazar's Inscrutable Tower Ravensreach Coaxing the Spirit Keyhunt

Here's a TTLG thread on how to set up both games for playing FMs. I personally don't use any fancy loaders, FMSel will be what you get by default, it works perfect and is all you need. TTLG overall is just a great place to be, it's good for FM hints/walkthroughs/recs and general Thief/Looking Glass discussion.

Ideally you have T2Fix already installed, but for setting your game up for FMs, you should do a quick reinstall and make sure that two options are ticked: common script modules, and T2FMDML. T2FMDML is a collection of fixes for Thief 2 FMs that wouldn't otherwise play nice with NewDark, and the scripts as I understand are for FMs that need them but either come packaged with older versions or without the scripts at all- there's a lot of older FMs out there that will be broken for you if you don't have both installed. You can just rerun the T2Fix installer for this, you don't need to reinstall the game or anything.

Thief Guild is where all the links lead, and it's a great site for finding FMs. You can filter by genre (city, thieves' highway, cathedral, etc.) or look through the usermade collections- for a start, I'd recommend looking at the collections specifically to find classic/early FMs, a category that I know I'm not hitting on much in my list here but is definitely worth checking out if you're at all interested.

Bonus Dark Mod rec: The Dark Mod is a fanmade, free, Thief-inspired stealth game. I haven't played nearly as many missions for it as I have for Thief, but it's still absolutely worth checking out to see if it clicks for you. If you only play one TDM mission, though, my personal rec is Iris.

If you have any, add on with your own FM recs also! Feel free to send asks or dms about anything FM-related, as well ^^ I'm always looking for more to check out, and always open to talk about them if anyone wants.

[aramis-dagaz]

Writober Day 2: Fangs, Rust

((Jacky is from Faded Scars and used with permission))

Despite the lack of torches, lanterns, or any source of light, Jacky found she could see well enough in the dim tunnels under the lighthouse.  Who built these catacombs, when, and why, she had no idea, but right now, all she was concerned with was finding a way out of here and staying as far away from that thing as she could.  She wished she still had her guns, but trying to search for them in the gloom when she could sense it bearing down on her would’ve been a terrible idea.

She hoped Rails got away.  But all she could do now was keep herself alive.

As dark and empty as the subterranean structures were, they weren’t silent.  The drip of water in the distance, the tumbling of rocks somewhere in the darkness, the deep groan of stone overhead.  Several times she thought she heard the discordant clatter of cloven hooves on cut stone, forcing her to duck into an alcove or room and wait, straining all of her senses for any sign of the monster hunting her.  She seemed to keep heading downward, deeper into the earth.  The carved stone passages were seemingly endless.

Jacky slipped into another room, hoping to take a breather and regain her bearings.  A sharp tang of iron and stagnant saltwater filled the room, along with other, horrid smells.  The gloom seemed to yield before her as she peered further into the chamber, revealing a row of large cells enclosed by heavy bars of wrought iron.  Despite part of her desperately not wanting to, she cautiously approached, the stench growing stronger.

It was the creature.  Or rather, another one, the realization of which filled Jacky with dread.  But this one laid on the ground, motionless, in a salty pool of ichor, a sprawling mass of thick tendrils, legs ending in hooves, and gaping, tooth-filled maws.  As Jacky stared at it, the black, rubbery flesh seemed to be paler than what she remembered seeing, sickeningly so.

Whatever it was, it appeared to be dead.

Jacky allowed herself a shudder, creating tiny ripples in the puddle of saltwater at her feet, then moved further into the chamber, peering into the cells.  Another one, also dead and misshapen.  A third, seemingly more of a thick semi-solid puddle.  A fourth, its lifeless presence more terrifying than the others in its implications.

The fifth cell was empty, the bars rusted and torn.  A four-foot length laid on the floor, ends twisted and jagged.

Heavy cloven footsteps clopped against the stone and splashed through fetid puddles.  Jacky heard a low, gurgling bleating behind her.

She didn’t think, only reacted.  She leapt forward, rolling over the wet stone floor.  Something heavy smashed into the ground where she had been standing as teeth snapped together.  Jacky pushed herself up into a crouch, staring at the monster before her, tendrils thrashing above its body as maws full of fangs seemed to materialize out of nowhere, gnash at the air, and then sink back into the mass.

She grabbed the rusted iron bar.  It was heavy, but she didn’t want to get anywhere close to the beast with only her knife.  She slowly stood and started backing away, each step matched by one from the monster.  Both carefully watched each other, waiting for an opportunity.

The beast lunged, a wet, bleating roar echoing throughout the chamber as tendrils reached for her.  Jacky dodged to the side and thrust the iron rod at the creature.  The clumsy strike grazed against one of the tendrils, but the thing leapt back, letting out a horrid shriek.  It paused, its thrashing arms slowing for a moment, and Jacky took the opportunity to take several quick steps back, her eyes never leaving it.

Sensing its prey getting away, the thing quickly advanced, but seemingly more cautious this time.  It lashed out with its arms, pulling back when Jacky attempted to bat them out of the way with her makeshift spear.  It got bolder, apparently toying with her, letting her get tired from moving the heavy bar around.  She needed to get away from this thing, and quickly.

The monster then leapt at her, its arms coming at her from multiple directions.  She leapt forward to meet it, thrusting at one of the slavering maws.  One of the tendrils swept at her legs, throwing her off balance and crashing to the ground.  She managed to use the fall to throw the crude lance forward, impacting heavily against the beast’s thick hide.

It shrieked in pain and fell back, thrashing about and cracking the stone walls.  Jacky looked up, seeing what looked like a large gash where the rod struck it.  It wasn’t that powerful of a hit, but it looked like acid had burned the flesh away, leaving a sizzling crater.

She quickly reached for the rod, but the monster slapped it away, shrieking again and staggering back in pain.  A similar rotting wound formed on the arm, bleeding thick ichor and putrefied flesh.  The thing stamped its hooves and roared at her, its tendrils pulling back over its body to slam into her.

A deafening gunshot rang out, a couple tendrils exploding and showering Jacky with foul ichor.  Her eyes followed her ears and saw Rails standing at the entrance of the room, quickly trying to load a new round into his hand cannon.  The monster roared again and lashed at him.  Rails managed to duck the powerful blow, but the trailing tendrils wrapped around his arms and pulled him towards its snapping maws.

Jacky leapt to her feet, grabbing the rusted metal lance and ran at the thing.  She thrust into the center of its horrid body, causing it to screech in pain.  She pulled the rod back, unleashing a small gout of pus-like fluid from the shallow wound, and thrust it into the wound again.  She kept pushing, feeling the bar sink deeper into its dissolving flesh.

Rails, his arms still grappled by the flailing tendrils, slammed his forehead into the monster.  He pulled his head back and headbutted it again and again, his metal mask covered in the creature’s putrefying ichor.

By the time they stopped to catch their breath, the monster was little more than rotting chunks of flesh and bone in a pool of disgusting slurry.

Jacky and Rails stared at each other, both exhausted and soaked.  Without a word, they both left the chamber and the nightmare behind.