#the longer i look at this drawing the more it gets distorted???

[fuminoomi]

the thought of his dumbass being so amazed by an office store makes me think of how old he is

local old ass man amazed by gel pens! ok deadass wine/m'lord/whatvr fucking name would be the exact same but more like. calm abt it and holding in his deep affection for sticky notes.

ok i cant talk shit i fucking love office stores only because im an artist

[siriusleee]

LIKE BLOOD ON IRON

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a three part series that I intend to be pretty long - at least 20,000 words. If you want to be added to the tag list, make sure you comment below. This is a historical fantasy, however, it is not magical. spotify playlist part two

His sword carves a gorge in the dirt, dust swirling in the sunlight left behind him. The sun threatens to fall before he makes it to the center of the village, but it doesn't dare fall before he gets the chance to finish his day's work. 

You watch him from the window of your family's house, lucky enough to be close enough to the center that you can see him coming for ages. Your fingers dig into the windowsill; the wind - salty from the nearby bay- blows gently through, rattling the windows you threw open the moment your sister whispered that he was coming down the road. There are only moments before Mother will storm upstairs, chastising you for trying to watch what's going down below.

"It's not appropriate for a girl your age to see this," she'll say for the hundredth time, slamming the windows shut. The wavy glass will distort his features, and leave you nothing but a hint at his form, but even then Mother won't let you continue looking. She'll pull you downstairs into the kitchen with your two sisters and set you all to work. 

"Your father and uncle will be hungry when they get home; you all pitch in," she'll say, pantomiming joy when just outside a man will lose his head - your father and uncle observing from the crowd. Father will come home grim, and not speak over the dinner that you and your sisters cooked, and will go to bed silent.

In the morning when you go to the market for whatever Mother needs for the day, blood will have stained the stones paving the center of the village. And the executioner will be back in his small cottage situated far away from everyone in town, not to be seen until he was needed again.

But this time, Mother takes longer. You hear her speaking sharply to your youngest sister, about how she needs to be more aware of her surroundings and stop sloshing all that damned water all over the place. Today you get the chance to see him come closer.

He's large and cloaked - you know from the village boys whispering that he has a mask on to cover his face. 

"It's covered in ashes - smeared to look like a skull."

"It's to remind those on his chopping block that he is Death."

No one accompanies him on his journey to the dias that all the buildings spiral away from; every person that will be there is already waiting for him to arrive, breath held in their throats as they hear his approaching footsteps. You watch as each house he passes draws its shutters shut to him as if they could be next if they looked at him. The sea rages down past the docks, far enough away to be just a faint chorus as he approaches your house. 

The tilt of his shoulders enamors you - he's enormous, but walks with a grace you can only wish to have. You don't need to be near him to know that the only sounds are the swish of his cloak against the ground, and the sword drawing against the ground.

You startle when Mother grasps your shoulder, letting out a gasping noise, but you don't turn away from the window. As if he could hear you, the executioner's head snaps towards you. You see just a hint of the white ash smeared across his mask before you're pulled inside. Mother throws you into the room with enough strength to cause you to hit the wall behind you, rattling the porcelain that sits on a nearby shelf. She slams the window hard enough that the glass rattles before slamming the storm shutters and latching them.

"What are you doing?" Mother's voice is venomous as she rounds on you, eyes burning. "You are going to humiliate this family acting the way you do."

"I'm sorry Mother," you appease, pulling at the wrinkles in your skirt and avoiding her eyes. "I was just curious."

"Your job isn't to be curious."

"Yes, Mother."

"How would your suitors think about you hanging out the window to watch something so grim?" 

You close your eyes to hide the sudden anger behind them; your head stays down and you don't answer. Anything you say won't be good enough for her. It's the same every time there's an execution. 

"Come - let's prepare dinner."

You follow, slowly. Inside the kitchen it's warm, and smells of honey and meat. Your mother gestures to a lump of dough that needs kneading and you roll your sleeves up. Your sisters, still eager to get a nice word out of Mother, patter around, stirring and checking on the baking. You know you were given the dough because everything else in the kitchen fails you.

Mother had been attempting to get you some proficiency in the kitchen, giving it her damnedest, curses flying out of her whenever you burnt something. For the past two years, she tried to no avail.

"At least you're a smart girl," she'd say with a sign. "And you can do books - you'll just have to hire someone who can cook."

For three years, your father and mother had been trying to find someone for you to marry.

"Seventeen is when I met your mother, and I courted her for three years to finally get her yes. And you're her elder by three."

The story sickened you. 

You'd had some luck that not many wanted to court you - it wasn't unknown in the village that you argued with your mother and father. Everyone whispered behind your back about the time you tried to smuggle yourself on one of your father's cargo ships, bound for somewhere far away and exotic. They whispered about how you fought the sailor that found you tooth and nail, leaving him a scar down the side of his face as he dragged you to the deck. No one wanted a wife that wouldn't listen. 

But still, some had come knocking.

Nice young men who would wait the years it took you to be ready to marry if you would just say yes. Nice young men who winked at your younger sisters across the dining table, who pressed flowers into Mother's hands, who clapped Father on the back at the end of the night.

Nice, young, boring men who wanted a boring wife to oversee someone else doing the cooking. 

Nice young men who would want their wives on hands and knees cleaning during the day, tongue out at night.

Nice young men you detested. 

You'd rejected each one that came knocking - fits that included screaming loud enough that the neighbors could hear, and a few shattered glasses. Once Mother locked you in your room and threatened to send you to a nunnery if you didn't stop screeching. But your father had called on them, spinning a web that you'd been intrigued by them and to come back for dinner again in a few weeks. 

You'd been threatened with the nunnery and the whip if you misbehaved the next time they came back, so you sat there, unspeaking while the men spoke only to Mother and Father. 

You're broken out of your reverie by your youngest sister, Lily. She presses against your side, tugging your apron to pull you down so that she can whisper in your ear.

"Mother is going to check on you tonight."

You give just a curt nod, eyes trained on Mother and your oldest sister, Maggie. They have their backs turned to you and Lily. Lily who has always hidden your secrets and you have hidden hers. Lily who knows you sneak out at night, climbing carefully out of your window onto the trellis and down where the horse is stabled. Lily who knows you spend all night swimming in the dark ocean, imagining the merfolk and monsters that linger there. 

You press a quick kiss to her temple, a thank you for the heads up, as you begin shaping the dough into two loaves of bread. 

The front door opens and the sound of your father's boots on the wood breaks through the kitchen. Mother wipes her hands on her apron, flour falling onto the dark blue skirt below, and leaves to say hello. Maggie follows closely behind, leaving you and Lily behind to finish dinner. Lily does most of the work, directing you on what to do to keep everything from burning. 

When everything is finished, the two of you cart it to the dining table where Maggie straightens the plates to perfection. You hear the gentle hum of Mother and Father talking, no doubt about your antics in the window. There's an extra plate at the table.

"Who is this for?" You ask Maggie, skewing one of the spoons. 

"Edward. And don't mess everything up." She reaches across to straighten the spoon. 

Edward the apprentice tailor, her two-year suitor who no doubt will agree to marry before the end of the year. You feel relieved that tonight you will be ignored, you and Lily can eat at the end of the table in peace, whispering jokes to each other. 

You leave to wash up in your room, scrubbing at the black dirt that you collected from the windowsill. You wonder if the executioner has made it home; if he drags his sword behind him or does he sheath it. Does it drip blood as he retraces his path?

Lily waits for you at the top of the stairs, and you lace your fingers together as you make your way down the stairs and into the dining hall. You pull faces at each other across the table, and stifle giggles into your napkins - ignoring the dirty looks Maggie sends to the two of you down the table. 

Dinner is tortuously slow - when it's over and you're clearing off the table you can see Edward and Maggie in the hallway, pressed against each other in a way that would make Mother blush if she were to see it. You elbow Lily and point toward them, sticking your tongue out and pretending to puke. She laughs loud enough to catch Maggie's attention and the two of you scurry out of her line of sight. 

After getting ready for bed, you brush out Lily's hair, perched on the bed you share. Her hair shines midnight beneath the brush, long and thick. The most gorgeous in the family.

"Can you braid it in two tonight?" She asks, trying to turn and look at you, but you turn her head forcefully back to the front.

"If you stay still I can. Keep wiggling little mouse, and you're going to have crooked braids."

Her hair slips heavily between your fingers as you cross one strand over another. You're wrapping a tie around the bottom of the first braid when she speaks again, this time in a whisper.

"Do you think being married would be terrible?"

You concentrate on the tie, measuring out each word before saying it.

"Why do you ask, my little mouse?"

"It's just - Maggie seems so eager to marry, and you're the opposite. Mother and Father seem happy."

"Well, Maggie and I are different people. Maggie is wonderful at this house stuff, and she wants that life. I want to explore, to see more. I want to fall in love with someone that isn't a pick of Father - someone…" You trail off, unsure of what you're trying to say. "Anyway, marriage isn't terrible for everyone. And if your marriage was, I would come and rescue you myself. Even if it means killing your husband. I'd sweep you out of that house, and back with me."

Lily giggles at the suggestion.

"You would end up under the executioner's sword then."

Inside, something twists at the idea of lying down, looking up at the broad man staring down at you.

"He doesn't scare me," you tell her, finishing the second braid. "Nothing scares me."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

The two of you settle into bed, Lily tucking herself into your side. Just as she said, in the middle of the night, Mother comes in, candlelight casting long shadows across the room. You keep still, pretending to sleep until she disappears. It's too risky to leave tonight, so you let Lily's warmth and soft snoring lull you to sleep. 

***

The next night, you press your ear to your bedroom door. You can hear Father snoring faintly down the hall; the moon, directly overhead, tells you it's late enough to slip out. You press a kiss on Lily's forehead and slide your legs out of the window, skirts bunched up to keep from getting caught.

The trellis groans under your weight, but you're sure it won't break underneath you. You climb down, familiar with where to put your hands, where the spiders like to build their webs, and the weak spots - you drop the last few feet down to the ground. The horse nickers softly from her spot in the small stall she's in. The village is quiet, the only sound the whisper of the sea. 

You keep to the darkest spots, the shadows even the night fears as you sneak through town. It's too hot for a cloak, but you still keep yours over your head, just in case anyone other than the spiders and bats is awake to see you. The closer you get to the sand, the faster you walk, pausing just once for a drunken sailor to slip past you without noticing you are hidden just feet away from him.

The port is small - bringing in just one or two ships - nearly all of them laden down with wool your father sells. But this time of year there is only one ship, here to pick up sailors that were on leave. It bobs gently across the water in the small port, the flicker of a candle seen sporadically. From this distance, any soldiers on it look like dolls in the distance. The air is cooler rolling off of the ocean, and the salt in the air sticks to your skin. Your bare feet hit the sand and you race to a spot hidden in a cove that separates the village from the ocean - a hidden spot used by couples in the town when they wanted to get away. But at night it was always empty.

Your toes dip in the water, and the bottom of your cloak gets soaked each time a fresh wave breaks on the sand. The water in the distance is still, reflecting the moon and stars. You let your cloak slip off of your shoulders, beneath you'd laced a dress up loosely, enough that if you were caught, you could feign innocence. It comes undone and pools at your feet. Your skin erupts in gooseflesh when the ocean air rolls over it - your chemise not thick enough to block out the wind.

You wade to your hips- the water is warm and still. Beneath your feet the sand shifts, shells sharp against your skin. You turn, making sure that you're still hidden from anyone who may be walking to the port at night, and when you're sure no one is there looking at you, you dive.

Your eyes burn in the darkness, moonlight filtering down just enough so that you can see your hand in front of your face. You push farther out into the bay, not resurfacing until your lungs burn from lack of air. Breaking the surface, everything is blurry, you fall back so that you're floating on your back until your eyes readjust and the stars come back in sharp focus. You float there, watching the subtle shift.

And all at once you feel it: someone's eyes on you. You flounder until you can get your feet underneath you, eyes straining to see the shore - you're farther out than you thought you were, toes barely able to scrape the sand below. You can see your dress and cloak, still pooled on the shore, but there's no sign of anyone nearby. Slowly, worryingly, you push towards the shore, until it's back to your hips. Your eyes never leave the shore, looking for someone there.

That's when one of the shadows ripples forward. You freeze your heart stuttering in your chest as you watch someone walk towards you - you can't think of what to do. Even if you screamed, no one would be able to hear you. You realize for the first time how foolish the venture is.

When the moonlight fully covers the figure, they stop feet from your clothes. Your hands clamp across your chest, the thin white fabric covering you completely transparent now that it's wet. Neither of you moves, and you realize that if you don't, they probably never will.

Hands still clamped across your chest, you walk to the shore. With each step it becomes clear just how massive the person on shore is - it has to be a man, you've never seen a woman that tall, that broad. You're in ankle-deep water when you catch just a glimpse at them beneath the hood of their cloak: white ash, reflecting in the moonlight.

Your panic increases tenfold, but you think if you move too fast, he'll move faster. Snatch you up. So as if he were a dangerous animal, you reach down and grab your dress from the ground, leaving it over your arm as you pull your cloak around yourself. Your eyes never leave him. He waits until you're completely covered before he turns to look at you - just the barest hint of flesh around his eyes. 

"Don't you think it's dangerous to be out here alone?" His voice is gravel and honey, deeper than you'd expect. You wonder if it's that way because he doesn't get to speak often.

"It depends on who's out here," your voice wavers, but doesn't crack. He seems to like that answer, letting out a short 'hmm'. 

"There's plenty of monsters out here in the darkness." He speaks but still doesn't step toward you. You tighten your cloak around you, wishing for once to be back in bed with Lily. 

"The merfolk and the selkies are the only things I worry about." You take small steps backward as you speak, feet shuffling over the sand.

"I've seen worse lurking in the near forest," he says, suddenly stepping towards you. You trip over your own feet, but before you can crash into the sand, his hand is around your elbow, pulling you up roughly. You don't mean to, but you let out a small squeak at his touch and recoil away; he drops your arm as if it burns him.

"You should go home," he says, nodding his head back towards the village. "It's too late for you to be out."

"I think you and my father would agree on that matter."

You can't tell if it's a trick of the light, but you see the corner of his eye crinkle for just a moment. 

"I'll walk you back up, then you are on your own to get home safely."

He walks ahead of you as he talks as if he expects you just to follow without saying anything. And you do, terror and intrigue mixing inside of you. His scent wafts to you in the wind, woodsmoke, and metal, and something sweet- like rotted wood. It flashes through you, just a second long - to bury your face in his cloak and take a deep breath. Your curiosity is raging inside of you, mingling with the apprehension of being near him - the same man Mother refuses to let you even look at through the window.

You slip on the sand and rocks behind him, his boots leaving footprints that dwarf yours. It takes just moments, but the two of you emerge out of the hidden crag and onto the soft grass that overlooks the ocean. 

You're panting, your heart still beating erratically in fear of him, the executioner, here at night on a dark roadside, and no one to notice the two of you. He pauses, just long enough to throw a look over his shoulder at you - you recognize his silent instructions to hurry home. You take two small sideways steps, eyes trained on him as he walks in the opposite direction, to the small cottage situated between the forest and the sea and far away from where he found you. His exile - where he never ventures out unless called. As soon as he's far enough away, you turn and run. 

When you make it back to your trellis you're out of breath, a stitch cutting your side open. You ready yourself to climb up, trying to catch your breath and remember his scent and the way he towered over you.

You wonder if he'd been there with you before, hidden in the shadows. 

***

"What are you doing? Are you senseless?" Maggie's voice cuts through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Your fingers slip over the apples in your hand as she grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards her.

"You're supposed to stay with me and Lily; not wander off to do god knows what?" 

Her face is pinched, angry - you jerk your wrist out of her touch. 

"I'm sorry Maggie, I just got busy looking at the produce."

She gives you a look that says she knows you're lying, but you fall in step behind her anyway. You had been lost in thoughts of the executioner, of how his eyes shone in the moonlight and his smell. Her hair, lighter than yours and Lily's, is pinned up elaborately; she spent two hours in the mirror this morning doing it. She didn't have to say it, but you know she hopes to run into someone who will run back to Edward and tell him about how gorgeous his future betrothed was today in the market. 

Lily slips her hand into yours, and you two trail behind Maggie - ducklings behind their mother duck. Lily had whispered to you this morning between bites of breakfast that Mother had set Maggie to watch you to make sure you didn't slip off. She couldn't catch you out at night, but she knew you were disappearing somewhere. 

She'd been creeping into the room for the past two weeks, only to find you pretending to sleep beside Lily. You'd close your eyes, and bury your face into the pillow, trying to sleep, but instead filled with thoughts of the executioner. Wondering if he was out there standing in the same spot, the waves soaking the bottom of his cloak, the ash on his mask shining in the moonlight. Wondering if he was thinking about you.

"I'm going to take Lily to the butcher; it's stupid for all three of us to go to the same place," you say, winking down at Lily. Maggie stops and sighs, heavy enough that you can see her shoulders heave. 

"Mother said for us all to go together."

"What trouble can I get into with Lily?"

You elbow Lily just before Maggie turns to level a suspicious look at the both of you. Lily speaks up for the two of you, trying to keep her face serious.

"I can keep an eye on her - no one will get into any trouble when I'm around."

Maggie rolls her eyes at the two of you, you can see her wearing down.

"Besides if we go to the butcher, then that means you can take the long way home. And pass the tailor's shop."

That gets her - Edward will be there, working with his father, and if she doesn't have to cart you and Lily around, the two of them can meet in the alley. 

"Fine. But meet me at the end of the street and don't tell Mother."

"I would never think of it."

You and Lily watch her disappear into the market vendors before the two of you turn in the opposite direction. 

"What do you want to do?" You ask, nudging Lily with your shoulder. "We have at least an hour of freedom."

"Let's go by the bakery; I want something sweet."

"Something sweet? You are the best baker in the house, all you do is eat sweet food."

The wind blows your skirts around as the two of you walk across the village, dodging loose stones and puddles. You're trying to jump from one stone to the other when Lily grabs your arm.

"Look!"

Thirty feet away from the two of you, in the middle of the street, the executioner stands. People shove themselves onto the sides of the buildings, straining to get away from him. He doesn't seem to pay anyone any mind as he walks. Lily pulls on your arm, trying to pull you to the side, away from him. But you're stuck fast to the ground; even from this distance, you can see him looking at you as he walks.

Lily whines your name, pulling harder on your arm. He gets closer, close enough that you can almost make out the wrinkles beside his eyes. His eyes catch yours - you can tell recognition sparks in them. You want to say something to him, but you know if you do, it will get back to your Mother. So you let Lily pull you away from him, closer to one of the buildings, but your eyes never leave him. 

He passes by, nearly silent for such a large man, black boots shining in the sunlight. 

"Why is he out?" Lily hisses in your ear as he passes. You pull your attention from his broad back to her.

"I'm sure he also has errands to run."

"He's so scary."

You watch as he disappears around the corner - wondering what he thought about you, about what he'd say if you stopped and spoke to him, say hello here in public. The thoughts stick with you as you and Lily duck into the bakery. You're stuck thinking about it as she bribes the young boy behind the counter to give her two sweet rolls for free, promising that she'll pay him back next time. The two of you eat them as you walk to the butcher's, honey coating your fingertips.

You watch the butcher wrap meat in brown paper, but your mind is on the executioner: on how he refused to look at you until you were dressed, how he walked you back to the edge of the village. It takes just a short walk to make it back home, Maggie waiting for you at the end of the street so that you can all walk in together. You notice the way one of the pins in her hair is gone, a single lock of hair falling.

Inside it's a commotion - the three of you come through the door to your Mother rushing past with an armful of clothes. 

"You all took your damn good time! Hurry up and go get clean for dinner. We're going to have guests tonight."

You press yourself against the wall as one of the hired girls hustles past, a tablecloth in her hand.

"Who's coming? What is this?" You inquire, as your mother shoves a dress into your arms. You try to peer at her over the royal blue material.

"Your uncle is coming to dinner, and so is Jonathan." Your heart sinks. Jonathan. A suitor hand-picked by Father for you. You've barely digested the information before your mother whirls on you, hair in disarray and fire in her eyes.

"And you will not act like a brat tonight. You are twenty years old - nearly twenty-one. Your sister will be getting married this year and I intend to announce your wedding shortly after. You will dress like a lady and act like one or so help me, I will send you to the nunnery this time. 

And you," she whirls to Lily, her chest heaving. Lily shrinks half behind you, "will behave also young lady. You and your sister will not make a fool of me tonight. Do you understand?"

The two of you nod in unison together, too scared to say anything else. Mother waves the two of you upstairs - you trip over the dress in your arms, slamming your shin into one of the stairs. You emerge at the top, cursing under your breath.

The two of you rush to your room - Lily's dress laid across the bed; you shake the one Mother shoved in your hands out, nose wrinkled. It's one of Maggie's old ones: dark blue and heavy, elaborate embroidery across the bottom. 

"I don't know how she expects me to fit into this," you mutter, throwing it across the bed. Maggie, taller than you by an entire head and more willowy, had never been able to share dresses with you.

"What do you think Uncle is coming for?" Lily asks, emerging from the neck of her dress, turning around in a silent request for you to lace her up.

"Probably to ask Father for money for another stupid business prospect, just like the last time."

You lace her dress, loosely.

"Can you tighten it up?"

"Why do you need your dress tighter? You're thirteen."

"The other girls wear theirs tighter."

Lily pouts at you, and you sigh at her.

"Come here; I'm only doing it a little tighter. When you lace mine, make sure it's loose, if I can even get it on. I'll braid your hair for you."

You re-lace her, just incrementally tighter, and redo the braids you did for her that morning, pinning them up in the back. From below, Mother is yelling to hurry up! You get dressed in a hurry, and to your surprise, the dress slips over you, but you know lacing it up will be difficult.

When your mother comes up the stairs ten minutes later, you have your hands braced against the end of the bed; Lily is pulling with all her might to try to get the back to close.

"Go wash your face, Lily," she says, brushing her away and taking the strings herself.

You know what's coming next; you breathe in, and she jerks the laces tight - you can feel the boning squeeze your ribs.

"Does it have to be this dress?" You ask as your mother pulls the strings again. You press your hands to your stomach, trying to breathe better as Mother ties the back, tucking the strings so they can't be seen.

"Jonathan likes the color blue."

"And that means I have to be packed into this like a sausage?"

Mother sighs, pushing on your shoulders so that you sit on the end of the bed. Her hands are soft in your hair as she pulls it down, and twists it back up, pinning it into place.

"You could do much worse than Jonathan. At this point, he's the only man that will have you."

"Have me? Like I'm a cow."

She sticks another pin in your hair, nearly stabbing your scalp.

"No. Like you're a woman; you can't do everything in this life alone. Besides," she tucks the last piece of hair in, "he travels. You could go with him."

Your hands smooth down the skirt of the dress, picking at a loose thread. 

"I want to travel where I want to go, not where someone is going to show me off."

Your mother's fingers are soft on your shoulders as she turns you so she can look at you.

"We don't always get what we want in life. Sometimes we just have to take what we're given. Come on. Your uncle is waiting downstairs to say hello."

She holds your hand down the stairs; at the bottom, your Uncle Henry stands - taller than your father and thinner but not nearly as imposing. He kisses you on each cheek before moving to Mother. You leave them to talk and take your place at the dining table. It's empty except for the plates already sat down. In the kitchen, you can hear the hired girl banging around. The sound grates at your nerves, and the dress itches at your back where you can't reach.

There's a knock at the door - it sounds like a funeral cannon going off. You try rearranging your face into a smile and push yourself up from your chair. You're sure you look more like you have an upset stomach. In the hallway everyone explodes into a chorus of greetings. A moment later, Jonathan walks into the dining room.

If you're being honest, he's not the worst pick that your mother and father could have chosen. He's never been rude or forward with you, and he's not horrible looking, but as he reaches you and takes your hand, all you can think about is how small they must be compared to the executioner's hands.

"Hello, Jonathan." You try to smile at him as he kisses your hand. 

"Hello, darling."

He turns just in time to miss the grimace on your face - turning to shake your father's hand when your father walks in behind him. You take your seat, waving at Lily to come sit down beside you quickly. 

Dinner passes slowly; you're barely able to eat anything from the rolling in your stomach and the way the dress presses into you. The conversation is flowery and fake - Uncle Henry laughing too loudly, Jonathan smiling to politely across the table. It sets you on edge; Lily can see it because she reaches under the table to pat your knee.

It comes to a boiling point when Uncle Henry begins to describe his new business of shipping items.

"We've got a new ship; smaller and faster than the ones usually used. It can't hold as much cargo, but it can sail routes in half the time. With just two of them we can double how much cargo we're moving out of ports."

Your mother is leaning into the conversation, no doubt to know what she's going to tell Father no to later, Father is enraptured by your uncles conversation, and Jonathan leans across the table, listening in.

"You know," Jonathan says, cutting into the conversation, "I think you'd have more success using them to ferry people. Imagine how much people would pay to get where they're going faster."

Uncle Henry points at him across the table, a grin spreading over his face.

"The boy understands."

"Of course he does," Father says, pausing to take a drink, "he's already got plans to take my daughter on a cross-oceanic trip after the wedding."

Your fingers falter on your glass, it nearly spills, red drops spattering across the table like blood.

"Excuse me?"

Everyone turns to look at you, and you get the feeling that there's a joke you haven't been let in on.

"Well," Father says, shifting awkwardly in his seat. Mother cuts her eyes at him, a look you don't miss. "We were going to discuss this later."

"Discuss what?" You ask, voice rising. "Because it seems as if the decision has been made for me."

Jonathan's gaze swivels between you and your father; you bunch the tablecloth in your hands.

"Calm down dear," Mother says, rising slightly from her seat, "we will talk about this later."

"No!" You yell, slamming your hands to the table and pushing yourself up. "We won't. Because I know how the conversation will go. I will be forced to agree. This is an ambush!"

Your cup spills, staining the table red. Everyone in the room seems to hold a collective breath. Jonathan moves to stand; you turn, knocking your chair over. Across the table, Maggie gives you a look of contempt - it's enough to push you toward the door. 

Everyone calls your name; you can hear your uncle laughing behind you. Someone's hand grabs at your wrist, but you jerk yourself away without looking to see who it is. Outside it's dark; windows are lit up with candle light and fires flickering. In the distance lightning strikes, grey clouds rolling towards you. 

You run, slipping on the grass, towards the cove. You scrape your hands, cutting one of them on a sharp rock as you scramble down. You ignore the sting, and the sound of fabric tearing. You land hard on the sand, scrambling to pull yourself upright. 

Across the cove, you see a flicker of white and a shadow ripple.

[dasnercaret]

i had so much fun drawing this guy it's unreal. please observe siffrin from @protectorcraft's fic a bell chimes somewhere!! what a dude. what a lad. what a weirdo (positive)

some more details under the cut! (spoilers for isat and the fic under the cut as well!)

i imagine that since siffrin's creachur form has something to do with wish craft, it wasn't too far-fetched to say that his eye would be colored too, especially given how the sky kid focused on it. however since this isn't his wish to stay with his family, i thought it would be nice to make it a different color... something representing the universe........ Sky Blue It Is

it helps that i am also obsessed with shades of sky blue AND the line from the fic that the sky kid said that it had "everything" in its eyes

i didn't illustrate it, but i think it would be extra cool if creachur siff's eye color changed as per time of day. just because. he's like the eye color version of that one 'do you love the color of the sky' post

i like to imagine that siffrin still has a strange Light in his eyes even when in his human disguise. can't remember if the fic mentions it or not but he has a sky blue highlight in those eyes now in my design. because i can :3

speaking of human disguise, i like to think that even with his transformation he's still not that subtle. mirabelle picks up immediately that he's weird but also that he's friendly and VERY good at survival, and so isn't too bothered by his... quirks. this might end up being canon to the fic honestly but i just wanted to trot out my two cents regardless while i'm here

i'm hoping i managed to communicate some of that off-putting nature in his face! especially his eyes. they're almost unnaturally gray aside from that strange highlight

i originally wanted to make his eyes even weirder but then i thought that being Too Weird would kind of defeat the point, and the point of this is that siffrin kind of has to pass as a normal human which means no glowing pupils, unfortunately. i can totally Give Him Pupils though. gotta get that subtle horror/ creepiness in :3

he gets glowing pupils / tapetum lucidum in the dark though. or when he's angry (see top left). as a treat

didn't draw his in between state (between human and dragon) but i imagine it looks kinda fucked up ! his horn and ears grow, his tail gets longer, teeth get sharper, his whole face sort of. Distorts. in a distinctly uncanny valley way. the blue highlight starts bleeding into his eyes (and his pupils start transforming from round to slit to star-shaped)

continuing, this in-between form in my head is sorta like the dragonkin soldiers from elden ring, just in terms of 'this is a weird hybrid of human and dragon and it just Doesn't Work'. like human, cool, dragon, cool, in between? fucked

siffrin is INSANELY floofy. even with the fact that he hasn't bathed in ages and his floof is all matted and tangled from lack of care he's still crazy soft. i think his fur also has similar insulating properties to his cloak so he never overheats or gets too cold. always the Perfect Temperature

if i were more confident in my skills (and which way this fic is going to end up going) i would have drawn a big hero 6 style moment where everyone is just lying with their face buried in siffrin's fur, like how everyone lays on warm marshmellow baymax.

i originally meant for siffrin to be more cursed and body-horror-y, and then i was looking at the fic descriptions for him (as of chapter 7, so there may be more detail later that i didn't get to see as of writing this) and was like 'wait... he kind of looks like the dragons from BOTW doesn't he' and then the inherent majesty kind of. just. Happened.

i like the fact that he looks kind of majestic though! i think it's a good representation of siffrin's terrible body image issues in this fic where honestly he looks awesome but he just doesn't realize it because, hello negative self-worth

didn't color the last doodles of human siff at the top left. apologies. i got sleeby

in another life mirabelle rides his dragon form into battle and it is exactly as awesome as it looks like it would be

kind of shoehorned my own oc into here as well but i SWEAR aleph is so absurdly similar to this design it's actually kind of hilarious. if i had a nickel for the number of space dragon designs i've made i'd have two, which isn't a lot but

and the full page of doodles! just cause

[seeminglydark]

how much of his experiences with Caro does Johnny remember rn in SD? Is he getting them back at all?

Spoileryish stuff under the cut for his memories

TL;DR: Initially he remembered almost nothing about it. But now, he remembers that they were a cheerleader and they were friends and he had feelings for them. He remembers the supernatural things. He remembers Caros family was horrible and he wanted to help them, and that he couldnt. He doesnt remember finer details. kisses or hand holding or that they dated. he knows these things because hes been told but the memories arent his right now. but things are coming back.

Long story long RIGHT now at this moment in SD, it still vague for him but he is slowly getting things back. He remembers a cheerleader (he makes reference to a 'cute little cheerleader' in the Creaky chapter that Caro confirms was in fact them.) PTSD, Trauma and brain damage from both abuse and actually physically dying for a short period all contribute to Johnny having a lot of blank spots and fuzzy details in his memories of childhood/teenagehood. He remembers Caro was his neighbor after he puts together that Caro and Carrie are the same person (which takes a bit longer for him since they look and sound a little different these days and his memory of them is distorted, he has no pictures or anything to remind him. There is a scene in Mil-Liminal where Maddie shows him a yearbook photo and at least the part that he knows them QUITE WELL comes crashing back.) He does not remember they did have a chance to become 'official,' and actually dated, it happened so close to his major injuries/brush with death, but he does know it happened at this point, cuz Caro's told him. Things do come back to him, if he's reminded, for instance, Caro being trans now reminds him they told him about it once when they were kids, that it was something he knew about. Caro having their attack the night he hangs out with them reminds him they've ALWAYS experienced the supernatural. he falls into patterns with them that he did when he was younger, such as the way he sings to them or held them because of habit and familiarity even if he doesnt exactly remember. He's slowly putting the pieces back together as they are presented to him. i was asked while writing this reply if he has sense memory, and yes, caros scent, the feel of them, songs they liked together, if he ever gets into the Datsun again, all those things play into it. He does NOT remember the pendant Caro wears. Or that he gave it to them. Or that it was even his. When Caro speaks of him in the podcast, and he listens to it, he does not realize its him they are talking about. When they tell him it was about him, he actually still has a hard time believing that someone could speak about HIM in such a poetic and yearning way. Theres many things he remembers, and many things he knows because hes been told, but he does still have a hard time distinguishing which is which. I do want to note that there is inconsistencies in SD when it comes to these two, mostly because their relationship wasnt actually supposed to be canon, and Caro wasnt supposed to be in SD at all, its been a fun challenge to tie things back together with it, when i first started making the comic, I decided I'd leave room in my narratives for me to be creative and change up original concepts and even the way i draw if i wanted too as long as the Main Story was consistent, which helps keep things fun to create for me, especially for something ive been working on for 6 years! I'm actually touching on Johns memories in i think next months episode of SD, (it can be read early on Tapas's Early access with ink right now) so theres definitely more about it coming up <3

-RJ

[cakerybakery]

There was silence in the wake of Lucifer’s threat to fuck him. Adam, who is famous for being the first man and a rockstar in heaven and is aware that people write or draw fan works about him, could hear the clacking of keyboards already. He needed to do damage control.

It was obviously a slip of the tongue but Adam didn’t need more fanworks of him getting wrecked. The drummer in his band was well liked and good looking! The last thing he needed was people thinking he took the devil’s dick too!

Did you know the number of drawings he’s seen of himself taking fucking dick from his drummer?? His nickname was not helping!

He needed to nip this in the fucking bud.

“It’s fuck-“

“MAYBE I’LL FUCK YOU!” Wait, what was girl Lucifer about to say? Screw it. Too late now.

Adam launched himself at Lucifer and smashed him into the ledge. On top, and through the dust Adam could just make out Lucifer’s confused face.

He whispered desperately, “you gotta let me win this one man. If I see anymore drawings of some guy’s dick in my ass I’m going to break.”

Lucifer kicked him back and took to the air. They grappled after Adam gave chase.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Lucifer easily slipped from his grasp.

“You know how many articles I’ve seen in heaven talking about if I’m a fucking secret relationship with this loser drummer in my band up?” The kick to his stomach hurt and Adam gasped for a second, “fuck. Cut that out, bitch!” He huffed and made another grab for Lucifer, “I stole some chick that was into him and now everyone thinks I have to hots for him and didn’t want to see him get laid.”

Lucifer had him from behind and Adam could see the artwork already. “Fuck NO! Don’t do that!”

They crashed into the building and Adam stopped fighting.

“Look, when heaven finds out, if I lose, I’m going to get pegged as the bottom. I can’t stop the drawings or stories, but I, at the very least, want to be the top.”

“Uhh, aren’t you trying to carry out an extermination? You tried to kill my kid. I think you got off track somewhere.”

“Your stupid comment is going to get me sent a thousand pictures of your dick in my ass. I’m going to get pictures either way, but if I can convince people that I’m railing you, then at least my girls won’t be wallpapering my locker with drawings of my ass full of cum. It’ll be your ass.”

“Not seeing how that’s my problem.”

Adam choked, he hadn’t thought of that. “I’ll do whatever you want if you let people think I topped you.”

Lucifer’s face was blank for a minute before a wicked grin spread.

‘Oh shit. Oh no. Oh fuck. This isn’t good.’

“Call off the exterminations, permanently.”

Oh that wasn’t so bad. Easy. “Fucking done.” He held out his hand to shake.

Lucifer didn’t take it, his grin just widened, “and I’m going to fuck you.”

“Wha-what?” Oh fuck a bitch. Which, right now, seemed like was going to be him.

There was noise of people above them and Lucifer snapped a distortion bubble around them so no one would be able to see or hear them.

“You heard me. I want to see exactly how desperate you are. Are you willing to let me sink my dick in that plump ass of yours so people think you don’t take it up the ass?”

What was he going to do?

“Clock’s ticking Adam. I don’t care if people think we fucked, but you do. And the longer you take to more likely I’m going to get bored and let folks think you enjoyed taking the devil’s dick. My denying it won’t matter.”

Adam’s knees felt weak. People would talk no matter what. He’d already tried denying rumours about him and the fucking drummer, he didn’t even know the guy’s name, and it just got worse. Lucifer held all the cards here. “Okay.”

Lucifer laughed, “wow. That was fast.”

“You’re right. Just, tell me how you want me and I’ll do it.”

“How I want you is next year, one year from now, you come to my home. Dress nicely, we’ll have dinner. Maybe some wine. Go for a nice walk around the garden. Then, I’m going to pound you into the mattress until you cum screaming my name. From dusk until dawn, I’m going to have you every way I can think of over the next year.” Lucifer held out his hand, “still willing to make a deal?”

“…” Adam had to think a moment, maybe he’d get lucky and someone would stab him to death before then? “Deal.” They shook on it.

[ccycloneblogging]

Idk way but seeing catnap chasing dogday is quite funny.

But idk way but I can see player/angle. Just standing there like it a normal day like there not even trap in the factory

I had a lot of fun drawing that little chase, but you are also so right.

In fact, that inspired me to actually write some fanfiction! All below the cut, but sadly no drawings to go along with it (for now).

"Angel!!!" It was a screech, mixed with a pitiful whining and another plee for help.

Only to be promptly followed by heavy footsteps and the sound of furious hissing.

Angel gave a heavy sigh, leaning against one of the upright picnic tables as they simply watched the scene before them.

DogDay, a small cartoon dog with sunny orange fur and a personality to match, was bouncing around. Desperately, he was trying to avoid the large purple paws of the feline chasing him down. Every clawless swipe had missed so far, but the cat's aim was getting better.

"Angel, Please!!!"

Angel sighed again, raising a hand to rub their temples. Two hours. Two hours ago, Angel had first found this little pup handing in a rotting cell. Two hours ago, they freed him and returned his legs. Two hours ago, their life was quiet.

They had begrudgingly allowed DogDay to follow them, concerned the pup would be helpless. They were pleasantly surprised to see he could handle himself, but his looney behavior leaved much to be desired. Simple tasks became jokes, stealth was no longer an option, and Angel was almost positive they could hear a faint laugh track playing every so often.

The worst part?

Ever since they freed the dog, CatNap became unpredictable. Ollie had warned them that this monstrous cat would hide in the shadows and hunt them, but this? This wasn't something any of them had expected.

CatNap gave a rather loud hiss, lunging forward with a powerful pounce. The orange pup was helpless, unable to dart to the side this time, and was tackled to the ground.

The two toppled over, again and again as they came to a stop on the hard paved floor of PlayCare. Once more, CatNap returned to a smaller size like DogDay, though he had him pinned to the ground.

DogDay wheezed, trying to force air back into his lungs. It wasn't easy, as CatNap firmly sat on his chest.

"Apologize." CatNap's voice was distorted, thanks to his voice box being broken long ago. His white eyes narrowed, his tail thrashing.

"You took my legs."

"You lost our game. You knew the risks."

"But you chained me to a wall! And left me there!"

"I came back for you." The cat huffed, his purple ears flat against his head. "It kept you safe from the minis. Or so... I thought it would."

"Angel!" The dog whined, tilting his head up to spot the human a few feet away. Without hesitation, he shot them the most pitiful looking puppy eyes he could manage.

Two hours of this.

Angel would have theorized that CatNap was simply territorial, but frankly? They didn't need to guess. Yes, CatNap wanted to serve the Prototype. Yes, horrible things occurred and he made efforts to stop Angel from cutting off the red gas.

But CatNap made no attempt to hurt them.

He watched them running around, only providing small obstacles to stop them - which only encouraged DogDay's wackier side to show more. Angel was convinced that this cat, though loyal to the prototype, had his heart set towards something more.

"You two are acting like children." They frowned. They shouldn't be scolding their enemy - if they could even call CatNap one. "If you two are going to do this, can you at least play a little quieter?"

"I thought he had died!" CatNap hissed. "You stole him from me! I thought -!"

"...What?" This got DogDay's attention as he snapped his head back to look up at the cat. "Angel freed me, and we were chased around by the minis for a bit. They saved me."

"I... I saw the human." CatNap's frown deepened as he flexed his claws. "I needed to see if they harmed you, so I went to your cage. I found minis, eating and bloodied orange fur scattered around the cell. I found your belts, torn and cut. I thought..."

"Oh, Moonbeam..." DogDay's voice softened, reaching over to the cat to gently pull him in for a hug.

Angel rolled their eyes again.

At least Huggy had been simple. Hungry beast, shove off catwalks. Miss Delight? Hungry creature who went insane? Smash into a wall.

But CatNap? He seemed to love only two things. The prototype, and this odd dog. Even the severed legs hadn't been an issue. They were in the next cell over, casually walking around on their own. DogDay hadn't experienced any pain reattaching them. The belt on his waist and some torn fur were the only signs that he had been ripped in half to begin with.

It didn't make sense to the human, and it certainly wasn't adding up how this cat needed comforting from the same one he had torn and held captive - or even why the dog was providing such tender moments so easily.

CatNap looked furious, still trying to stare daggers at the human. Though... It was impossible to take him seriously as DogDay nuzzled into him. Even more so when a soft purr escaped the cat.

Whatever.

So long as the cat wouldn't try to kill them, and Angel could escape this hellhole, they wouldn't ask any further questions. All they really wanted was to go back home and sleep in their own bed, preferably away from any sort of cartoon.

...Though deep down? Angel had a feeling that dream would be impossible now.

[cinebration]

Something…Human? (Geralt of Rivia x Reader) [Request]

Hi, good day ❤️ if you're not busy, can I ask a Oneshot about Geralt x reader, but the reader had some sort of weird personality like Wednesday addams. And the two of them meet, after she saved both him and Jaskier from getting killed by a monster? Just thought it would be fun to have a creepy yet sarcastic reader. Hehe thank you and happy new year!—Requested by @binibining-mariaclara​

I didn’t watch Wednesday; I was too busy watching 1899.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: lamberts

When the dust settled and the smoke cleared, Jaskier a coughing wreck off to his left, hacking up a lung, Geralt surveyed the damage. The rotted wood of the strange barn-like structure had given way from the combined weight of the witcher and the bard slamming through it just as the burning thatch of roof collapsed atop the alghoul. The Jaskier-as-bait method had worked well in luring the monster into the building, but the creature’s thrashing had destroyed two crucial support pillars, knocking Geralt off-balance in the process and sending his igni sign into the thatch-covered roof.

The whole structure had caved in atop the monster, trapping it beneath rafter beams and the burning roof. From the lack of painful screaming, Geralt guessed one such beam, had knocked the creature unconscious or killed it instantly.

The wind picked up, whipping the fire into a frenzy and shoving smoke in Geralt’s eyes. He turned away, vision blurring for a moment. Beside him, Jaskier wheezed again.

“Next time…you decide to slam your body…through me…to destroy a wall,” the bard gasped, “give me a little warning!”

Geralt stood, moving with the lithe grace of a feline on high alert. “That wasn’t me.”

“Wasn’t you? Then why was I pinned beneath you?”

“Shut up,” Geralt hissed.

“No, no, no, you don’t get to tell me to shut up when I want answers. What were you thinking!?”

Firelight bounced off Geralt’s sword several meters away, dropped in the unexpected collision with the wall. The witcher scanned through the heat waves and smoke billowing off the structure, looking for the creature that was causing the hair on the back of his neck to prickle.

“Your dagger.”

Jaskier spat soot-coated saliva onto the parched grass. “What?”

“Give me your dagger.”

Alarm sent a spasm over Jaskier’s features. “What? Why?” He fumbled for the blade strapped to his belt, all but yanked the sheath off with it.

Grabbing the dagger, Geralt peered again through the smoke and flames, his wolf medallion vibrating slightly against his chest. The magic wasn’t powerful, not much stronger than one of the signs he wielded. The force that had sent him through the wall—and Jaskier with him—didn’t feel all that dissimilar from the aard sign, he realized.

“What is it?” Jaskier whispered, ducking behind Geralt. “Is the alghoul still alive!?”

“No.”

The wind shifted a fraction, stirring up the fire once more. The smoke whipped past Jaskier and Geralt.

A dark shape shimmered behind the heat waves.

“Then what is—oh, gods.” Jaskier went silent, arrested by the illusory form. “That’s not courage curdling at all.”

The shape moved.

Jaskier darted back behind Geralt as the witcher tracked the shape’s movement around the collapsed structure. It disappeared behind the smoke, reappeared when the wind flattened the black cloud, drawing nearer.

“That’s far enough! We’re not worth your time!”

Geralt ground his teeth, keeping himself from barking at Jaskier to stay quiet. The figure stepped past the distortion created by the heat waves, stepping through the smoke plume as though unaffected by its acridity.

The bard relaxed as you stepped into view, no longer a shimmering silhouette but fully illuminated by the flames. Shadows played over your face, swinging between softening your features and sharpening them into something unnerving. Geralt remained poised for attack, searching for signs of aggression, anything that would presage you wielding violence against him and the bard.

“Neat with the fire,” you said, your voice strangely monotone. It grew inflection as you continued. “I can’t imagine an easier way to demolish a barn. If it was ever a barn.” You glanced over your shoulder at the pile as though appraising it for its barn-like qualities.

“Hullo,” Jaskier called, mustering up a smile. “That wouldn’t happen to be your barn, would it? Because we very much did not intend for this mess. But we took care of the alghoul, so what’s a little old barn compared to a monster rampaging at night?”

Your gaze moved from him to Geralt with a sharpness that sent an uneasy shiver down the witcher’s spine. His grip on the dagger remained firm, ready for blood.

“Oh, you took care of the monster?” You rolled your eyes. “And here I thought the burning roof did that.”

“Well…we may not have delivered the killing blow, but the fire was Geralt’s, and we lured the creature inside anyway, so yes, we took care of it.”

“Does he always talk this much?” you asked. “He ought to make a living with it.”

“For your edification,” Jaskier snapped, “I am a bard and—”

“Nevermind, I see you already figured it out.” You fixed your gaze on Geralt again. “And you must be…the witcher everyone keeps talking about. They sing songs about you, you know.”

“Thanks to me.”

“Oh, there he goes talking again.”

Jaskier huffed, scrambling for words. The faint curve of a smirk touched your lips, your eyes still trained on Geralt. The humor didn’t quite reach your flat eyes.

“What are you?” Geralt’s voice rumbled deep in his chest.

Jaskier stilled. “She’s not…she’s not human?”

You sighed, the sound both heavy and bored. “Everyone on this continent needs new material. You all seem to be recycling yourself. Everywhere I go, it’s the same. ‘What are you? You’re not human.’” A sound of disgust emerged from your throat.

It sounded disingenuous.

“What are you?” Geralt repeated, edge lining his words.

“Bored.” You feigned a yawn. ““Witcher this, witcher that.’ I followed you for entertainment, and what do I find? You both in need of rescuing.”

“Wait…you sent us through the wall?” Jaskier stepped past Geralt. “Do you see how massive he is!? I’m lucky I didn’t break anything!”

“Next time, I’ll let the monster win.” A brittle smile pulled at your lips, an eerie flicker in your eyes. “That would be more entertaining.”

Jaskier reared back a step, Geralt shifting so the bard wouldn’t stumble into him. The wolf medallion had stopped vibrating, but the hair on Geralt’s nape still prickled uneasily as he met your curiously flat stare, watching the unsettling flicker within your pupils.

Pivoting sharply on your heel, you strolled away from the burning wreckage, not once looking over your shoulder.

“All you did was stand there,” Jaskier complained, shooting the witcher a glare.

“I was waiting.”

“For what? Her to tongue-lash us to death?”

Geralt handed Jaskier the dagger without a word, then slowly crossed the field to the edge of the destroyed structure. His gloves prevented him from being burned when he picked up his sword from beside the raging flames.

“What was she?” Jaskier asked, his annoyance replaced with concern. “She wasn’t human, right? Did you see her eyes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well…that’s probably more terrifying. Let’s go back to the village. I need a strong drink after that.” Jaskier hesitated midstride. “Unless…what if she’s there?”

Geralt almost hoped you would be, just so he could learn whether you were human or not.

[limbuscompanysituations]

I want to ask the opposite of the distortion reader x sinners, the sinners react to the reader manifesting their EGO in a desperate moment, and the reader attributing the manifestation to the corresponding advice given by each sinner

Look, when I started writing this I thought "hey this is going to be fun!" and although it was incredibly fun, my wrist also hurts omg. So anyway I once again commit to my insanity and write a very long post. Enjoy!

Faust:

"It is possible to manifest EGO from one's own experiences, as well as when they are overcome with emotions. Whether they be positive or negative, the end result stays the same." It was the beginning of one of Faust's long, wordy explanations.

They were curious after witnessing her manifest her EGO in combat before. It was such an oddity to manifest power beyond imagination that they couldn't help but ask. Most of the explanation was lost to them once she finished it, but the initial part was simple enough to remember.

Faust leans on her weapon for support. The tips of her pale hair are stained red with her own blood. She pants, gasping for air while trying to keep her eyes open. They've been fighting together for hours now, trying to hold the line long enough for the other sinners to come to their aid. It seems to be fruitless, the enemy hasn't given them any space to breathe. They are almost as exhausted as Faust, but she's been taking the worst of the beating on purpose.

She may look cold and aloof but they know that deep down, she has done so for their own sake. They were angry at her, but mostly at themself for being this weak. If they could do more, they could protect her.

Her explanation on EGO echoed in their mind, and for a split second they had a flash of hope. If only they could draw that out of themself, then they could get out of this. They close their eyes and take a deep breath.

Memories and emotions, then. This is all of me, for all of you, Faust.

It's a promise they make to themself, and in that moment they change the flow of combat. One by one, those enemies that threatened to bring them down are swept away by a wave of power unlike any other.

Faust's eyes widen and she realizes what is happening in front of herself. This is her beloved's EGO, manifested when they need it the most. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, realizing many things at once. Dying did not matter to her, as sinners always have Dante who can rewind, but perhaps it was the possibility of witnessing her death that made them do it. She's flattered, exhilarated and excited. There are endless instances of Faust all across the universe, yet this Faust ended up being the one who matters the most to them.

When the enemies are wiped out she falls to her knees with a light chuckle. Her vision is blurry and starting to fade out. She is grateful not only for them to have saved her life, but also because their existence makes hers feel more important.

No longer resigned to be one in a million, but one Faust who is loved and cherished.

_____

Yi Sang:

They fight back to back, gritting their teeth and keeping their opponents at bay just barely. Yi Sang can seem frail but he's a skilled combatant, and so are they. However, there's still a limit to how much two people can do against an endless number of foes. Yi Sang's resolve is beginning to fail, and so is his body.

They help him stay on his feet, supporting him with a hand around his waist while they brandish their weapon with their other hand. It seems to be impossible to turn this around. They are done for.

"The same shards of broken glass that bring you nothing but pain... Can be put back together, piece by piece, and build a window through which you can witness a better, colorful and more hopeful word."

His words come back to mind. They remember vaguely asking him how he could manifest his EGO during combat once. It was so impressive back then that the image was still burnt in their mind.

It's what I need now: the power to build a window to a better world.

They grit their teeth and hiss out a heavy breath. If there's nothing but hope left for them, then they will grab that opportunity. Willing their entire body and mind to cooperate, they push their own heart to its limit and climb that window.

Yi Sang is barely conscious but he can see it all happening. One minute his body and mind are so weary he knows he will faint soon, and then the next minute a figure so bright takes over his every thought. Their EGO wipes out their enemies one by one, and even though it is a terrifying power to witness, he feels elated. Their pain and their hopes are all bare before him, pieced together in a beautiful mosaic that bleeds hope through it. In the middle of this mosaic they stand, terrifyingly beautiful, their power uncontested.

It takes him a moment to realize they are no longer holding him and that he's fallen on his knees. It doesn't matter, however. His body has never felt any lighter. He calls out their name in a whisper and his consciousness gives in to the darkness.

____

Don Quixote:

Even the brave aspiring fixer will find a situation impossible to turn around. Her beloved squire did everything they could to support her, but she's heavily wounded and can barely take another step. In this moment of desperation they can still hear her energetic voice calling for her heroic steed. Except right now she can't muster up the strength to call upon it.

"Tis an unjust world, and I, Don Quixote, swear to battle evildoers to the end!" It wasn't really an explanation on how exactly she used her EGO, rather a proud exclamation of her own power.

Still it's better than nothing.

They focus on this sliver of hope and grab it with their hand. It is an unfair world, and Don Quixote should not fall here. She is the heroine of this tale, and she will fight until the end. In this moment her squire promises the same.

I will fight injustice by her side, so neither of us can fall here!

They hold this newfound power in their hands and charge forth, dashing past a wounded Don Quixote and crashing into their enemies with ruthless strength. They're crushed into bloody pulps before they can even blink.

By the back lines, Don Quixote stares at her lover, eyes wide and teary. She will lose consciousness soon, but witnessing the power of their resolve manifested in such a way makes her heart beat faster. She wants to kiss them; she wants to commend them; she wants to be the one who protects them to the end, while also being the one to fight all evils in this world by their side. Don Quixote is proud of her dearest squire beyond words, still she is capable of speech.

"Hark, squire!" She exclaims, "Thy power is most-!" and before she can utter the word "magnificent", she collapses.

____

Ryoshu:

When they asked Ryoshu what it meant to cast her EGO, the sinner stared off into the distance and muttered the words "It is my soul, bared to the world."

They nodded then, knowing that this was as precise of an explanation as possible, while remarking that that could mean pretty much anything.

Then they found themselves cut off from the rest and fighting for their lives against a foe so persistent it could take the smirk off of Ryoshu's face. The wounds that piled on her body grew to be almost unbearable. For Ryoshu, who was a competent assassin capable of ending most conflicts with a single move, it meant that they were both in trouble of the deadly kind.

Still they hoped to be able to do something, anything.

Ryoshu dashed forward once more, putting all of her strength into a single strike that could tear apart anything, but the monster not only deflected her hit, it also threw her back against a wall with force so immense that a sickening crunching sound echoed around them. Ryoshu fell limp to the ground, still breathing but with some of her limbs twisted in an unnatural manner.

They ran to her side, with tears in their eyes while they recognized the impossibility of the fight they found themselves in. Then they remembered her words and everything made sense suddenly.

"My soul, bared like my teeth." They whispered and held her body gently in their arms. Her dazed eyes rolled back and forth, then they found their face. Ryoshu smiled in pain, and if she could, she would have cupped their face in a hand.

"T.I." She whispered back.

They nodded and let go. Facing the monster with the fury of a legion, ready to bare their teeth. The power that came from their very core lashed out in a focused manner. The creature had no chance, the moment they left Ryoshu's side, it was already dead and sliced to a thousand pieces.

Ryoshu's eyes are wide and bloodshot, her bloody, crazed grin splitting her face ear to ear. If she wasn't choking on her own blood she would've laughed upon seeing that asshole being torn apart. Her eyes glimmer with barely contained admiration. She already knew they were capable of something like manifesting EGO, but seeing it first-hand is much more intense than anything she ever imagined.

She witnesses a soul that is vibrant, mesmerizing, deadly and indomitable all the same.

____

Meursault:

"To wield my EGO is to hold everything that weighs me down in my hands and then put that weight on that which hinders me." Meursault's explanations are usually more thorough and less abstract. The oddity of hearing him describe his EGO in such a way stuck with them.

When the tide of the fight turned against them and there seemed to be no hope to find, they remembered those words. He tanked all the hits he could, trusting that his large, trained body would be enough to shield them all the way through. But even if Meursault is a force to be reckoned with, the foes they face are much more than they can handle.

He's bloodied, battered and bruised, barely able of standing on his own feet. His knees tremble and he's breathing heavy, hands shaking while he tries to keep his eyes trained on the enemy. They circle them, and in spite of trying to keep them safe, the moment this wave strikes again, they both will be done.

"It's a bit foolish, isn't it?" They laugh nervously, "To carry all that weight all by yourself."

Meursault's eyes drift towards them briefly, and they can hear his response in their mind. Something along the lines of "it's what must be done."

You don't need to do it all by yourself, you idiot.

They clench their hands in fists and close their eyes, concentrating in how heavy their heart feels knowing that he is so hurt because they aren't stronger. Their jaw clenches and the tears that threaten to come out never do. Instead a power that they didn't know they had in themself surges and overflows. Suddenly they are the tide, and the battle doesn't matter anymore.

They become the force that they need to be for him; they become the one to bear the weight of the world. This weight is unbearable for those around, and they are knocked out uncoscious without even realizing it.

In the middle of the silent battlefield stand Meursault and his lover. While they look proud and surprised with themself, Meursault looks dumbfounded. He has always expected to be the one to carry them both forward, and he was always fine with it. He didn't want to burden them too much, what he wanted was to protect them all along. It is clear that being stuck on that has hindered himself from growing to trust them more.

"Ah..." He mutters, "You were correct all along."

They glare at him, as if to say "I told you so!" A slightly proud smile on their lips. They collapse a few seconds later and Meursault sighs.

____

Hong Lu:

He isn't built for prolonged fights. Although he was pushed to unimaginable limits by his family, there's only so far he can go in combat. They're both on their own, and the situation is dire.

His dominant hand is incapacitated and he's doing what he can with his other free hand, but it's not enough. Soon the spear is flung from his grasp and he has nothing but his own body to fight with. Still he keeps his flawless combat stance, taunting the enemy with a serene smile. He's not ready to surrender, not yet.

More than keeping appearances, Hong Lu can't let go because he's not alone. He hates the pain, but they are with him and he cannot let them be hurt in his presence. This is something they know, because they've asked him before.

Instead of recalling that answer, the words that come to their mind are different.

"There is a place where nightmares and dreamscapes meet, in my mind. If I close my eyes for a brief moment, I can almost touch it. If I reach my hand out, I can feel the taste of my own salty tears on my tongue... And then I open my eyes, and find that I cannot distinguish that from this."

When they asked him about his EGO, the answer they got was quite worrying. They tried to comfort him then, but he smiled and said he was fine.

Even now he's trying to keep that appearance. It's not fair.

Their hands close into fists, and they see the enemy lunge forward again. Hong Lu stands on their way, his still serene smile building a wall between that pain and themself.

He will let himself be hurt and maimed if it means they will stay safe, but if he dies, then who will protect them?

No, rather, the thought that occupies their mind is different. What they think in that split second before the enemy's weapon connects with Hong Lu's flesh is that for them, this is that place. The world that connects dreams and nightmares unfolds before them, and their own grief floods it.

They flutter across the battlefield gracefully and deflect the strike that would've killed Hong Lu, now being the one standing between him and danger. They unleash their madness on their enemy over and over again, taking out those who still have a will to fight and frightening those who don't into falling unconscious.

Hong Lu, who stood there serenely guarding them, seems to finally crumble down. He falls to his knees, smile vanishing from his features and replaced by a look of complete shock. His lips are parted, and tears fill his eyes. He wanted to protect them to the end, but he finally realized how weak he still is. In this power vaccuum, they grew to be the one to outshine him. Turbulent emotions swirl inside him: anger, helplessness, pride, hopefulness, grief, joy. He can't pick one.

Still, even if he feels embarrassed he couldn't do what he promised, he is taken by relief. The smile that comes to his face is not one he forces, but one he welcomes.

____

Heathcliff:

He's the stubborn kind, even when he shouldn't be. They know this, and they accept it, but when it comes to fighting together he's always trying to outdo himself. As if they will think he's cooler if he tries to look all manly and imposing. They could give less of a fuck about that.

Maybe it's not because he's proud and stubborn, maybe he's been shoving himself in front of every attack aimed at them this whole time because he's genuinely concerned. They know he's got a good heart, even if his words are harsh and crude. Heathcliff can paint himself as a thug, but he's a genuinely good man.

"Bloody hell..." He groans, barely capable of holding his bat in his two hands. Their enemies scowl at him, grinning with glee at his pain, and that pisses them off.

"Ah, the EGO thing? I dunno, I just think about something that makes me really pissed and go from there." That was Heathcliff's explanation when he was inquired about his EGO once. It was short, clear and it made sense. When he cast his EGO, he really did look angry.

It's the same anger they feel now. How dare these cunts think they can take him down in front of them?

They hold their weapon in both hands so tight their knuckles have gone white. Between their gritted teeth, they growl curses at their enemies. The anger that takes their heart pours out and every blow and strike they deliver becomes deadly. They maim and break and pound their enemies into a bloody pulp, still cursing at them the whole time.

This righteous anger makes Heathcliff pause and look at the scene with wide eyes. A second ago they were cornered and hopeless of making a comeback. He had already accepted the fact he was going to get a good rewind from Dante in no time. What bothered him the most was allowing them to get hurt in the process. Turns out he worried for nothing.

But then, he stopped to think for one second and realized something.

They have an EGO?!

Whether they had already used EGO before or they just manifested it, he didn't know. The only thought that crossed his mind was that he wouldn't want to be on their bad side after witnessing this storm.

____

Ishmael:

"I spent so much time sharpening this harpoon that I just... Wanted to feel like it was taking me somewhere." She paused, then she corrected herself, "No, I wanted to feel like it was bringing me something. Whether it be the guts of a whale or the one I hate the most."

She gritted her teeth when she finished explaining exactly what she thought about her EGO. They nodded and quietly listened to her.

They could never ask the exact details of Ishmael's time at the sea. Whenever she told them about it, it was all out of her own volition. It didn't seem fair to pry on her life like that, even if they were already dating.

It's strange how random memories always come up when you're at your worst.

Ishmael is still trying to push back a monster so hideous it is beyond imagination. One of her eyes is shut and bleeding, while her other is wide open. She grits her teeth, sinking her feet into the ground and trying to hold the position as best as she can. Her mace has fallen somewhere and is out of sight. She has no hopes of fighting back, so she puts all her focus into defending.

Even if she cannot see it, her shield is starting to crack.

They can see it, and they can understand it. It's because they got wounded first, and now she has to fight all alone. There isn't much else to do, though, the battle is already over. In a matter of seconds her shield will be shattered into pieces and right after it's her turn.

Kneeling on the floor and observing the scene unfold before them, they are taken by an intense, undescribable feeling.

Where am I going...? What am I doing...?

They can't even protect themself, much less her, but still they want to do something.

I want to do what it takes to get us out of here.

It's nothing but a simple thought. They have no harpoon to sharpen or shield to wield, they only have themself and this feeling to show. They rise to their feet in spite of their pain and blindly walk towards the monster.

Ishmael notices it from the corner of her vision and yells at them to stop and stand back but they are incapable of doing so. They walk until they are shoulder to shoulder with her, then they slide their arm into her shield's handle and bury their feet into the ground.

"I don't care what happens to me but..." They push the shield forward and the monster stumbles one step back, "I want its guts."

They grit their teeth and breathe out. The power that flows into Ishmael's shield is enough to throw the monster off balance. When it falls back, they let go of the shield and pounce on the creature. They rip it apart with their bare hands, eyes dull through the whole process.

Ishmael falls to her knees, exhausted and in pain, and watches the spectable before herself. This sensation is the same when the other sinners use their EGO, so could it be...? Yes, yes it probably is. She watches with morbid admiration as her lover tears apart the creature that almost killed them both, suddenly realizing what their words meant. She doesn't mean to, but yet she smiles at the scene.

____

Rodion:

She laughs and jokes, but their situation is dire. They find thelselves in a inhospitable area, but the worst part is that one of the factions of the place decided they didn't like the Limbus crew. While most of the sinners managed to take Dante to a safer spot, Rodion and themself ended up stranded from the rest of the bunch.

The situation wouldn't be so bad if their enemies could just stop coming up with backups. It's like fighting against an endless swarm of foes. Both of them are exhausted and paying for their carelessness. Rodion has one limp arm, and she tries to wield her axe with the other but a blow to her shoulder makes it impossible to swing the weapon without turning her whole body around. They know she's past her breaking point, but still she makes time to look at them and smile. Only to receive a blow right after and spit out blood.

"Isn't it ironic? Sometimes you think you see the situation ahead better than everyone else." Rodion once said, "You think you know what you have to do. You think you know how you can do it... But then it turns out that it's all wrong, and you accomplished nothing. And you're left out in the cold, alone, with only a bloody axe to show for it."

They only asked her about her EGO. When she gave this explanation of sorts, she had an unexpected regretful expression on her face. They remember having raised a hand, about to pat her shoulder and thinking of a way to comfort her, when she smiled and laughed her own words off, playfully winking at them and excusing herself.

Even now, her smile is but a facade, hiding how much she regrets being there.

Isn't it okay to make mistakes sometimes, though? To err is not a sin, but rather what makes us human.

Is what they wanted to say to her back then, but now that they missed their chance, there's only one thing they can do.

They leap forward and shatter the flow of combat. The temperature drops and the enemies are scrambling to understand what happened. When they walk past Rodion, their eyes lock briefly. They disappear within the mass of enemies and an unnatural silence takes over the battlefield.

Blood splatters on the floor and on the wall, Rodion cannot see what is happening but she instinctively feels a shiver run down her spine. The feeling is familiar, something like what she feels when either Ryoshu or Yi Sang cast their EGO. For some unknown reason, she doesn't worry about her partner. She tries to see past the confused foes in front of her, and only has a split second to step aside before a body flies her way. She dodges it in time and what once was a person becomes a blood splatter on the wall behind her.

Within the corridor that this body's path opened, she once again locks eyes with her partner. Panting and with a bloodied face, they stare at her with dull eyes. They don't seem to be wounded, which is a relief, but at the same time...

Suddenly the silence breaks and the formation of their enemies is in disarray. A couple more bodies are flung into the air and splatter against the floor and walls. Rodion didn't expect them to have an EGO so interesting. Actually she has no idea what kind of EGO it is. She can only classify it as terrifyingly hot. Yeah, she will kiss and pamper them a lot when the fight is over, but first they have to survive it.

She grins and swings her axe towards a distracted enemy, slicing his skull in half.

____

Sinclair:

"How do you manifest EGO?" Was a simple enough question. They were expecting a textbook answer, something that would take a while to understand, but still understandable.

"EGO..." Sinclair repeated, eyes growing distant as he silently pondered.

"It's okay if it's supposed to be a secret..."

He smiled at them and shook his head, "It's not, as far as I know, it's just..." He pressed his lips into a thin line, "I think about everything I could never do in my life, and then I... If only I can will myself into doing it..."

Sinclair didn't say anything much after that, and they didn't press him. Sometimes curiosity was about to take over and they felt like asking again, but they always held back. If it was something he couldn't say, then no need to be pushy.

Sinclair was gentle and easy to get along with, but when it came to battling he seemed to change completely. That bright boy who's prone to being anxious is no longer, instead there stands a bloodthirsty man, desperate to claim the lives of his enemies.

There's only a couple of them left, but there's also one wounded Sinclair, barely able to hold his weapon, left. They sit on the floor, back leaning against the wall and holding their bloody stomach. It's really embarrassing, especially after they told him they could handle a fight. Because they are incapable of keeping their promise, Sinclair has to push himself past his limit to keep them safe.

They sigh and look at the heavens above. The wound is not severe, they can probably survive it. The main problem here is that Sinclair will die, and other than that, the wounds on their pride are deeper than the one on their stomach.

Isn't it pathetic that I sit here and pity myself, instead of doing something?

They can't shake that feeling. They stare at Sinclair once again, with his trembling hands and knees, fighting off two enemies at once. He barely blocks a hit and fails to parry the other. The slice goes through his hand and he has three fingers severed at once.

Anger bubbles up their throat and they clench their jaw. Whether they are angry at their enemies or at the world for putting them in such a situation, they don't know, but when they rise to their feet that anger makes them feel lighter than ever. They dash back into the fight and swear to whatever is hearing that they won't live in regret like this anymore.

Sinclair is astounded when the weapon he clung to with all his might is snatched from his hand and then used to slice one of the two enemies in half. The person didn't have a second to realize it, their armor and flesh are sliced clean as if made of clay. The other enemy gives a step back and yells a threat. It's no use.

His partner follows up and slashes at the armored enemy, which barely blocks the blow in time. Sinclair watches as his spear's shape changes and his beloved growls unintelligible words at their common foe. Even the pitch of their voice seems off.

Then it finally hits him what's happening is that they manifested their EGO for the first time. He falls on his knees, heart racing while he watches the enemy lose ground and have all the damage they've inflicted being inflicted back at them. His partner moves with grace and malice, and even though they're clearly hurt they don't seem to show any sign of pain.

He blushes and licks his lips. He never thought his usually peaceful lover would be capable of such carnage, much less of reveling in it. It's an unexpected, but not unwelcome development.

____

Outis:

She's strict with herself more than she is with others, and few can recognize this; her lover being one of them. They wanted to find better ways of helping her so once they asked her how did she manifest her EGO.

"Sometimes you say 'the Odyssey had a purpose'," They explained, "I was wondering if you do it by saying that."

"Just the words aren't enough." Outis looked down at the floor, "It's much more than that." She sighed.

"I want to understand it." They pressed.

"If you really want to know, I think about the path that's ahead of me, and how much I still have to accomplish. I think of all the missed opportunities in the past, how many more I'll miss in the future and..." Her voice drifted away, "It doesn't matter what I have to do. I see an opportunity I cannot miss, and I seize it."

They were expecting more of a textbook explanation of it, but this one was clear enough and made sense. Outis seemed just as happy to let go of the subject, instead talking about something lighter.

Maybe she thought they'd forget about it, but she wasn't aware that they commit everything she says to mind. It's because Outis is devoted to them that they can give everything they have in return.

Even now, when the fight is pretty much lost, with one of her arms on the floor and barely able of wielding her weapon in the other hand, she's giving everything she has to keep them out of harm's way. They bitterly watch her throw her life away for somebody as incompetent as them.

The mindless creature that charges at Outis is uncaring of the outcome of this battle either way. They just happen to be on its way. They knew that this job was going to be dangerous, but they never thought they would end up being so unfitting for it. In exchange, Outis has to fight for two to compensate.

They bitterly stare at the beast who wobbles its way towards their lover and bites into the air. When its maw opens, its limbs flail strangely. They squint and watch an organ pulse underneath something that's either a wing or a tentacle. It looks soft, vulnerable.

It looks like an opportunity.

In that moment, everything clicks into place.

It doesn't matter that they can barely lift their own body or walk, this is something they cannot miss. They push themself off the ground, wincing and wobbling like the creature they fight. They push their feet forward, one after the other, counting the seconds it takes for the creature to show its weakness again. Five, four, three, two, one...

There.

They dash across the battlefield weightlessly and claim the monster's life, like a bullet that has found its target. Outis, who was bracing herself for the curtain call, freezes in place. The creature let out a shriek, its form starting to explode- no, it's like it's imploding. It folds in on itself, body twisting in an unnatural manner until it is nothing but a bundle of twisted flesh and bones.

Standing over the creature's remains is Outis' lover. A sinister smile graces their features and Outis can't help but to smile back. It seems they remembered what she had once told them. Of course, she knew her lessons would one day get through and help them but... She wasn't expecting to see them manifest such a destructive EGO of their own.

She feels overwhelmed with pride and wants to embrace them. She wants to tell them how incredible they look and how amazing of an accomplishment this is but she's already falling to the ground. She doesn't have more than a minute left to live, but it's enough.

"Well... done..." She whispers with her last breath.

____

Gregor:

They'd seen many of the sinners manifest their EGOs before in battle, and Gregor's always seemed to be the most unique out of them. Half of that fascination came from his prosthetic, and the other half from being in love with him. One day when they couldn't hold the curiosity anymore, they asked him about it.

He looked upset at first, and they almost took back their question but then he shrugged.

"It can hurt." He explained, "But if I will it to, it can also protect. If I want it to protect, I need to be stronger. I need to get over how much I hate it and make it useful."

He waved his insect arm a little, as if to illustrate his point.

"I don't know how it works, bud." He smiled awkwardly at them, "I just... I just want it to."

Such a simple explanation fit him. They knew how much grief having the arm gave him, yet he was trying to make something good out of a bad situation.

They hope they can say the same of themself, but...

Gregor is on the floor, a massive armored person has a foot on his neck while pulling his insect arm back at a painful angle. Gregor's struggle to free himself is meaningless. They fought hard, they fought well, but they've ultimately lost. The person who threatens to crush his throat with their ironclad foot instead seems more interested in pulling that arm off his shoulder. He's screamed so much his voice is hoarse. He's writhing on the floor, kicking and screaming to the top of his lungs but he can do nothing.

They're alone, and theyre weak. He tried to protect them, and in turn this is the outcome. They lay on the floor, unhindered by any armored soldier, but incapable of doing a thing. Their broken leg hurts like hell, but not as much as their heart does upon seeing him like that.

In this absolute hopeless moment, they go back to his words and his bittersweet smile.

I want to protect, so I will myself to.

They push their upper body off the ground, only to fall on their face again. They grit their teeth and clench their jaw. Gregor let out another bloodcurdling scream and they shut their eyes tight, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

I want to protect. This is not fair.

They can hear the sound of fabric ripping. Something inside them breaks and a switch is flipped. It doesn't matter how much it hurts, they stand on their feet and grab their weapon in their hands. The armored giant turns around, glances briefly at them and goes back to what they were doing. Oh, what a bad decision.

They lift their weapon, eyes locked on the pained image of Gregor on the ground, tortured even after defeat, and then lower it in a swift motion. A shockwave closes the gap between them and their enemy, the armored giant sways and lifts their foot off of Gregor's throat. They take another step closer and wince in pain, but swing their weapon again. The force of the shockwave this time is strong enough to make the giant let go of Gregor. The veteran is kicked to the side while the knight is forced to focus on them.

Gregor watches his lover approach the giant knight menacingly while he curls in on himself. He knows they are more hurt than himself, but somehow he feels more terrified for the canned giant. When his partner raises their weapon again, he knows it's over. He's not very educated on the science of it, but he's fought in enough battles to pick up on its flow. When this combat started, he knew the knight was way out of their league. He knew they would get severely wounded, and knew that winning was an impossible scenario here.

He couldn't tell them, because he barely had any time to, but his plan was to take most of the beating until the others could arrive and save them. Now it's clear that somehow his plan worked, but in an unexpected way. When he was hurt the most, when it felt like his tendons and muscles would get ripped apart by the knight's sadistic pulling on his arm, they reached a breaking point and manifested their own EGO.

Their weapon lowers and the tip connects with the metal on the giant's armor, and in that split second where the world stays still, Gregor blinks. The knight's armor is smashed in and blood and flesh gush out of its gaps. It's a gruesome scene, and the sound it makes is nauseating. His lover pants and gasps for air, then falls to the ground unconscious.

In spite of his pain he is not only proud, but also glad. He crawls all the way to their side, smearing some stray blood and guts over his clothes on the way. Everything hurts, but he manages to reach them. He embraces them with his still good arm, shedding tears of relief.

He's so sorry he's put them through all of this, but he's so unashamedly proud and in love with them.

"You did good, bud." He whispers into their hair, "You did so good...

[scribbling-dragon]

Hi!! can you write some fluff about pearl's slumber party?

absolutely! the little segment at the end of everyone's videos was so silly,, hope this did it justice!

hush hush

summary:

“Shush,” Pearl hisses, slightly more forceful than the last few times she’s told him to be quiet. “You're going to wake them up.” Despite her warning, she continues to let out small giggles every few seconds, and his comm continues to wobble in his hands as he tries to focus the camera. [Or, a small snippet from the sleepover at Pearl's.]

(ao3 link)

(1,531 words)

Pearl shushes him, even as she continues to giggle and distort the sound with her quiet hiccupping. She clasps a hand over her mouth a moment later in an attempt to muffle any sound she makes, while the other hand is held up in a command for silence.

Grian is doing much better in his attempts to stifle his own giggles, wobbling slightly as he leans further over the sleeping pair. He has to make sure he angles this properly, otherwise the photo is going to be ruined by his shadow.

“Shush,” Pearl hisses, slightly more forceful than the last few times she’s told him to be quiet. “You're going to wake them up.” Despite her warning, she continues to let out small giggles every few seconds, and his comm continues to wobble in his hands as he tries to focus the camera.

He shakes his head and ducks down, still giggling. He’s not even sure what’s funny anymore, what it was that set them both off in the first place, but it’s gone three a.m. and everything has become wildly hilarious.

“Ugh,” both he and Pearl freeze. That small sound was more than enough to shut the two of them up. They turn their heads as one towards the source of the noise, his arms still extended and holding his comm out to take a photo. Skizz squints one eye open, looking about until it lands on them. “What’re you two doing?”

“Securing future blackmail material,” he whispers back, painfully aware of how close he is to everyone else and how easy it would be to wake someone else. He manages to finally get the perfect angle, no shadows cast over the target of his photo. The photo is snapped with a small click, and he pulls his trembling arms back towards himself.

“Nothing.” Pearl says, just moments after him. She turns a glare in his direction as soon as she’s spoken, fierce enough that he momentarily draws back an inch. “Gri! Why’d you spill the beans?”

“Shh,” he’s the one shushing her this time. “You don't wanna wake them, do you?”

“Course not. Just look at ‘em,” she gestures towards Jimmy and Tango. Grian, personally, couldn’t care less if they woke them now. The blackmail material is already safely tucked away into a secure folder, ready for the next opportunity to use it. (He’s thinking maybe at Jimmy’s birthday. Or Tango’s. He could put it on one of those custom cards.) “They're so cute like this.”

Skizz huffs a breath at that, almost sounding like he just disagreed with a widely agreed upon sentiment.

Grian pauses at the same time as Pearl, each of them staring at the other before turning as a single unit towards Skizz, where the man has just begun to sit up.

“Skizz,” Grian says, drawing the word out as a smile curls over his face.

“You got something you wanna share?” Pearl leans a little closer, eyes wide with excitement.

“It’s creepy when you two do that,” Skizz tells them, pointing a finger like he’s trying to be stern. “I hope you know that. You're like some freaky twines straight outta horror film.”

They turn to look at each other then back at Skizz. “Creepy?”

“Uh, yeah. Did you see what you just did then?”

Grian maintains his confused expression for only a moment longer, breaking down into giggles. He leans up against Pearl as he laughs, feeling the way her shoulders shake as she leans into him as well. “Oh, man,” he swipes a thumb under his eye. “Skizz, your face.”

“What about my face,” Skizz crosses his arms. “There’s nothing wrong with my face.”

“Oh, nevermind,” Pearl waves a hand flippantly. “What I do mind is you keeping secrets from everyone else. You got something you wanna say about our lovebirds over there?”

Grian glances back at Jimmy and Tango, finding that they’ve somehow managed to cuddle even closer to each other. Tango’s being held tightly by Jimmy, as though he’s some oversized teddy-bear, barely visible between Jimmy’s arms and wings. Tango, for his part, seems rather content with this arrangement, tail curled around Jimmy’s leg as the pair continue to sleep.

“Ugh, what don't I have to say about those two,” Skizz drops his head to cradle it in his hands. “I know we called it Love Island and all, but I think that name needs to be changed now.”

“Heart Foundation sounded fine to me,” Grian frowns. “I don't see why you had to change it.”

“Cleo said-” Skizz cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “You know what, nevermind.”

“What did Cleo say?” Pearl scoots a little closer to Skizz.

“Nothing, nothing.” Skizz laughs. “We changed it because Cleo said the name was bad. That we have bad taste in names.”

“Uh-huh,” Grian gets the feeling they're not being told the full reason, especially with the way Skizz snuck a glance over at him, only to look again when he realised Grian was still watching him. “Sure.”

“I'm being serious,” Skizz holds his hands up. “D’you wanna hear what I have to say or not? Because I'm perfectly happy to just go back to sleep…” Skizz starts to roll over, pulling the blanket of his temporary bed up to his shoulders.

“No,” he lunges forward and tugs the blanket away, wrapping it around himself and grinning smugly at Skizz. He pauses, then sticks his tongue out for good measure. “I’ll give this back if your story is good enough.”

Skizz pulls a face. “No way. You can just say that it’s not good enough, there’s no categories to rank it against.”

“Fine. I’ll give it back once you finish telling us the story.”

“I was just gonna say how they're constantly being all…sickly sweet with each other,” Skizz gestures towards Jimmy and Tango. “Jimmy comes over to Love Island, and he swims through the water every single time. I think he does it just because he knows how Tango will react!”

“And how does Tango react?”

“He’ll laugh at him for a second, and then he’ll go get a towel – and this towel specifically belongs to Jimmy for when he does this. And then they’ll just sit there as Tango lovingly goes through and dries every single feather; it’s cute, but it becomes a little less cute when your buddy just dropped you, again, to go help his boyfriend recover from being an idiot.”

“Shh,” Pearl warns, glancing over at Joel as he shifts in his sleep, then rolls over, muttering something incomprehensible. “Don't wanna wake anyone.”

“Sorry.” Skizz continues a little quieter a moment later, “You know that storm we had a few days ago?”

“Ugh, yeah,” he shivers at the thought, feathers puffing up a little behind him. He’d been stuck inside a temporary shelter until the rain stopped being so heavy for fear of waterlogging his wings and then having to spend hours drying them out again. “Horrible weather.”

“They were worse.” Skizz’s face flattens. “Jimmy was fussing over how warm Tango was, and then Tango was fussing over how wet Jimmy’s wings were. I couldn’t even leave! I just had to sit there and watch them be all lovey-dovey while it was miserable outside.”

“Well,” he reaches over to pat Skizz on the shoulder. “I don't have a solution for you there. But sorry for your loss, or whatever.”

“Like, I love the guy! But there’s some things you don't do when your house doesn’t have any dividing walls!”

“Oh my god, did they-”

“Ew, no,” Skizz reels back. “Ew, don't even make me think about that, man. No, they didn’t. But Tango is loud when he purrs, and it’s really difficult to sleep with a motor engine rumbling on in the background!” Huh. Funny. Grian hadn’t noticed Tango purring at all earlier, despite being so wrapped up in Jimmy’s embrace.

All three of them freeze again as a small snuffling sound permeates the silence, turning as one being towards where Jimmy stirs. “Issit day yet?”

Grian throws Skizz’s blanket back towards him in a panic, wrapping himself in his own as he acts like he was asleep the entire time. He hears similar frantic shuffling of fabric as the other two copy him, before everything falls silent again.

Grian can still see where Jimmy and Tango lie together, holding his breath as he waits for Jimmy to go back to sleep.

“No,” one of Tango’s eyes slits open. Grian can see the way it glows in the gloom. “Go back to sleep, it’s the middle of the night still.”

Jimmy makes a small humming noise before he, seemingly, goes back to sleep.

Grian can feel his heart thumping in his chest, a little giddy at being caught. Especially when Tango’s eye continues to remain slit open, the faint light remaining for another minute or so before Tango, too, goes back to sleep.

Or maybe falls asleep for the first time that evening.

…Was he awake that whole time?

Grian muffles a nervous giggle into the palm of his hand, hearing as Pearl, then Skizz start giggling a little as well.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

What follows is a retelling of the Jurassic Park story, mainly based on the 1993 film, with portions of the original novel used to supplement the story. The main point of divergence occurs when the park is unable to find workable nonavian dinosaur genetic material for cloning, since - as in the real world - dna degrades much too rapidly. Instead, the park consists only of extinct dinosaurs that can be brought back - birds from the last 2.5 million years. What happens after that is, as Ian Malcolm would say, an emerging pattern.

Infinite thanks to beta readers @killdeercheer, @otussketching, and @plokool! And extra thanks to @i-draws-dinosaurs for the killer logo!

Link to the masterpost of chapters

Chapter Two: Egg Mountain, United States

“Doctor Sattler! Doctor Grant! We’re ready to try again!”

Ellie stood up from the dirt in front of her, brushing off the sand from her shorts and looking around for the source of the call. Alan took a longer time to get up, looking grumpy and befuddled at the interruption.

“I hate computers,” Grant muttered.

Ellie wanted to laugh, but she managed to keep it in. Computers felt like something from a separate world – a cleaner one, a manufactured one. Out here, in the badlands, surrounded by mountains and dust and old bones, computers were alien. But they had one.

And it had quickly become Alan’s archnemesis.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Ellie joked, smirking at him as he shook his head in bemusement. The two walked down the side of the mountain towards the equipment, including a large lead slug dispenser (aka Thumper) and a portable computer covered in dust and dirt. The computer ran the computer-assisted sonic tomography (CAST) program – Thumper would send a lead slug into the ground, which would generate waves, allowing for the computer to get an idea of the layout of the ground around the slug. The computer would then, theoretically, show a reading of any fossils detected by the sonic waves. Usually, the best it could do was show the approximate location of a fossil – which saved significant amounts of time on digging. But, with repeated readings, sometimes a more detailed outline could be found. That detailed outline was then helpful for digging in the right location – and preserving that location from further environmental damage.

As they reached the bottom of the valley, the students activated Thumper, causing a loud boom to resonate through the mountains. Alan made a beeline for the computer monitor to read the info, while Ellie meandered behind him across the dirt.

“Hey Dr. Sattler!” one grad student shouted. She waved back at her with a smile. There weren’t a lot of women on the dig site, so each one supported the others as much as they could.

By the time she reached the monitor, the image from Thumper was finally loading on this screen.

“This new program’s incredible,” another grad student, a man this time, said, “Few more years development and we won’t even have to dig anymore!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alan scoffed, causing the gathering crowd around the screen to laugh with him.

“It’s... a little distorted, but I don’t think it’s the computer,” the student continued, typing away to try and manipulate the image’s presentation. Ellie could see right away, however, that the skeleton was in the right pose. She walked up to the screen and pointed, from a distance, at the tell-tale characteristics.

“Post-mortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments... Deinonychus?”

“Yes, and it’s in good shape, too,” Alan confirmed, walking closer to the screen himself, “Five, six feet long, I’m guessing nine feet tall. Look at the –“

Suddenly, Alan’s touching of the monitor made everything go fuzzy.

“What’d you do?” Alan asked the student angrily.

“He touched it,” Ellie laughed, patting the student comfortingly on the shoulder, “Dr. Grant’s not machine compatible.”

“Hell, they’ve got it in for me,” Alan grumbled, before composing himself, “And look at the half-moon shaped bones in the wrists. It’s no wonder these guys learned how to fly!”

Everyone laughed around him. While birds being living dinosaurs was a fairly widely accepted hypothesis in the field, it still drew some chuckles – especially from the unaware.

“No, seriously!” Alan said, turning around to look at everyone, his educator face completely taking over the irritation face he had previously, “Dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than they do with reptiles. Look at the pubic bone, turned backward, just like a bird... look at the vertebrae, filled with air sacs and hollows just like a bird... and even the word Raptor means, ‘Bird of Prey’.”

“That doesn’t look very scary,” scoffed one of the children on the dig, an annoying little boy who was constantly complaining about the connections between living birds and their extinct dinosaur relatives, “More like a six foot turkey!”

Alan lost his educator face, and Ellie found herself smirking at the sheer irritation he had for an expression instead.

“Have you met a turkey, kid?” Alan asked.

“Oh no,” Ellie muttered, but she wasn’t about to stop him. Alan had been patient with the kid for weeks, and his time was up.

“Um, at Thanksgiving,” the kid responded.

“Okay. So, to begin with, a turkey is already nearly six foot – they can grow up to four,” Alan stated, smirking, “Then, when you are just alone in the woods – or, you think you’re alone – with no one around, guess what is the last thing you want to hear?”

“Um, turkeys?”

“The distant sound of many turkeys coming right in your direction. You see, turkeys – they aren’t predators. So they know at any time they could be on the receiving end of a horrible, horrible attack. And so they, like all prey animals over a certain size, will defend themselves to the death. More human deaths are caused by the vegetarian hippopotamus each year than by sharks or any other predator. And turkeys? They have that ferocity, too.”

The kid did not have a response to that.

“Some might peck you. That has a nasty sting. Others may just run at you, flashing their feathers, making loud sounds. Enough to set your teeth on edge. And then there are the kickers. Nowhere more than the feet can you see how birds are just dinosaurs among us,” Alan let out a snort, “Those claws, that force, it is enough to break bones and other organs.”

Alan stepped up closer to the boy, getting right in his face. Ellie watched, moderately mesmerized, too much so to intervene.

“Just one, a human alone could not deal with. But on your own, surrounded by who knows how many? You would wish it was a Deinonychus, kid. A Deinonychus eventually gets full.”

The boy visibly gulped in front of everyone, who was dead silent. No laughs emerged from a single person.

“So, you know. Try to show a little respect.”

“Okay,” the kid said, nodding. Alan nodded in response, and turned to walk away.

The child’s mother ran forward to him, while Ellie followed after Alan, shaking her head in bemusement.

“If you wanted to scare the kid you could have pulled a gun on him, you know,” Ellie snorted.

“Yeah, I know,” Alan sighed, “Kids. You want to have one of those?”

Ellie laughed, gesturing behind her, “I don’t want that kid, but, a breed of child, Alan, could be intriguing.”

“Ha!”

“I mean, what’s so wrong with kids?”

“Look, they get in the way. I mean, I never thought I’d date anyone, before I met you,” Alan said, “It never interested me.”

“You just wanted to find the bones,” Ellie laughed, shaking her head.

“I just wanted to find the bones! But one person is enough for me. More, and this time I’m responsible for their well-being? For what kind of person they turn into? Nah.”

“You didn’t think you’d like dating me, and you did!” Ellie countered, jabbing him lightly in the arm.

“Cause you’re the only person who understands me,” Alan scoffed, “Besides. You don’t smell.”

“What? Kids don’t smell, either!”

“Some of them smell!” Alan insisted, “Babies smell!”

The whirring of a helicopter cut off their conversation, and both immediately ran down to the site to cover up the new find, shouting for tarps to drape over the rocks and exposed bones. Alan sprinted to the helicopter, while Ellie ran down to the site, covering it quickly with the help of the volunteers and students.

“Get it down – yes – secure the corner – don’t let it be exposed! Even this amount of wind from the helicopter could erode away important information! Yes, get that side down, too!” Ellie barked at everyone, directing people to properly place down the tarp. Satisfied the specimen was secure, she quickly ran towards the trailer, where she had just seen Alan disappear into.

“Alright!” Ellie shouted, opening up the door, “Who’s the jerk?”

“Uh, this is our, paleobotanist, Doctor –“

“Sattler,” Ellie filled in, frowning. In the room was an older man, with a white beard and glasses, wearing a beige hat. Ellie didn’t have a moment to ask before Alan continued,

“Ellie, this is Mr. Hammond.”

Ellie felt her mouth drop open in shock.

“I’m sorry about the dramatic entrance, Dr. Sattler, but...”

“Did I say ‘jerk’?” Ellie laughed, grimacing.

“We’re in a wee bit of a hurry, here. Will you have a drink? We don’t want to let it warm, come along, sit down, sit down.”

It was weird, how he managed to make the space his own, just by virtue of having paid for it, even though it was Ellie’s and Alan’s. Ellie tried to take control, reaching for glasses in the sink, as he protested. Before she knew it, she was sitting at a table.

“Now, I’ll wait a minute, because I have a surprise for you!” Hammond laughed. Conveniently, the door opened at that moment, and a tall dark skinned woman entered the room, her hair done in dreads, a grin spreading across her face.

“Guess who’s baaack!” the woman sang, beaming at Alan and Ellie.

“Miri!” Ellie shouted.

“Miri!” Alan said in unison. Miri laughed and ran to hug Ellie, shaking Alan’s hand eagerly afterwards.

“Mr. Hammond picked me up on the way over here, I’ve been a consultant on his project for the past year down at my dig – I have so much to tell you, when was the last time we saw each other?” Miri said rapidly, laughing at the shocked looks on Ellie and Alan’s faces.

“Last SVP, I think!” Ellie responded, “Oh it’s so good to see you! Are they treating you well down in Florida?”

“As well as can be expected for Florida!” Miri laughed, “But we just found a new Titanis skeleton, and since Pierce passed I’m in charge of the dig site!”

“I was so sorry to have heard of his passing, Miri,” Alan said, “You’re more than capable to take over for him, but so soon after you graduated from here –“

“The man lived in a hoarder house, Alan,” Miri snorted, “A literal hoarder house. Besides that, I was brought on the team because he knew he needed a good replacement. Regardless, I’m here now.”

“And good thing, too!” Dr. Hammond laughed, “Your former mentor would never have been able to come alone on our little trip, Dr. Spinoza!”

“About that, as I was saying in the helicopter, you’re never going to get Alan to –“

“Never going to get Alan to what?” Alan asked, affronted. Ellie snorted, making him glare at her for a moment.

“I’ll get right to the point!” Hammond chortled, clearly delighted by the proceedings, “I like you. Both of you. I can tell instantly about people, it’s a gift. Could tell I liked you, could tell I liked Miri. Now,” Hammond took a deep breath, beaming, “I own an island. Off the coast of Costa Rica. I’ve leased it from the government and spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve. You remember the consultancy you did for me at the time?”

“Yes, but after a point you said we were no longer needed for that?” Alan asked in confusion.

“Which is when he reached out to me,” Miri said, nodding.

“Well, the island is really spectacular. Spared no expense. Make the one I‘ve got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo. And there’s no doubt, our attractions will drive kids out of their minds.”

“And what are those?” Alan asked sarcastically. Miri snorted.

“Small versions of adults, honey,” Ellie laughed.

“And not just kids, everyone! We’re going to open next year, that is if the lawyers don’t kill me first. I don’t care for lawyers, do you...?”

“Oh we... uh...” Ellie began.

“Don’t really know any,” Alan and Miri finished with him in unison.

“Well I do, I’m afraid. There’s a particular pebble in my shoe who represents my investors. Says they insist on ‘outside opinions.’”

“What kind of opinions?” Ellie asked.

“Well, your kind, Dr. Sattler and Dr. Grant, not to put too fine a point on it. And Dr. Spinoza’s too. I mean, let’s face it – in your particular fields, you’re the top minds! And if I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, you know give it your endorsement, maybe even pen a wee testimonial, I could get back on schedule!”

“Is the work I’ve been doing for you not enough of a testimonial?” Miri laughed.

“Well, they want you to see the place, get a feel for it, as it were. They want an expert’s eyes on the whole proceedings.”

“But why would they care what we think?” Dr. Sattler asked.

“With your expertise from paleobotany and paleoecology, Dr. Spinoza’s in behavior, and Alan’s in anatomy, you have the best handle on what sort of problems we may deal with in the park –“

“What kind of park is this?” Alan asked, frowning in confusion.

“It’s right up your alley,” Hammond laughed, handing the three of them drinks.

“Please come down, you two, with Dr. Spinoza and I, for the weekend. I’d love to have both of your opinions on the project. We have a jet standing by at Choteau,” Hammond pleaded.

“I basically had no choice, since he’s sponsoring the dig,” Miri sighed.

“Well, look, we just dug up a new skeleton –“ Alan began.

“And I will compensate you, as well, by fully funding your dig...”

“This is a very unusual time,” Alan continued.

“For a further three years,” Hammond finished.

“Well.. uh...” Ellie stammered, “Where’s the plane?”

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Alan shouted, clinking his glass with Hammond and turning around to Ellie in excitement. Both shouted happily and hugged each other, spinning around the room.

“Three more years!”

“We can get the entire raptor nesting site!”

“Three more years!”

Hammond chortled happily, as the pair reached to grab bags from under the table and pack them.

Soon, they would be off to Costa Rica.

[boredgirl2004]

Day 3: Bill and the Universe 

The page immediately turned to a blank page that quickly formed letters from my blood, There was a sketch of the book that revealed a human spin inside, an ‘X’ with an arrow pointing at it that said Lick here which, is something I won’t do. There was a paragraph under the drawing that said : 

“Congrats on your new book, The Book of Bill, Which will be your new guide of life forever! If you’re starting to have second thoughts about reading it, too bad! There’s no way to get rid of this book! Go ahead, throw it away! I DARE YOU! IT WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE GRAVE. 

The book contains:

A real human spine! I wonder who they stole it from? 

“Paper” made from pressed, pureed human brain matter. I can invade anything with neurons, so you may already be a winner!

1,000 free paper cuts, to be awarded to 1,000 lucky readers at random! Check your fingers; you may already be a winner! 

A whole secret that you probably won’t find.

A soul. If you burn this book, it WILL scream. 

BEES!

Below the list of what the book contains, there was a verification tab that read “I am not Dipper Pines.” I don't know who that is but I might as well check it, I gently pressed my thumb on the tap, and once I pulled it off; it revealed my bloody thumbprint. I heard a distorted bing sound, I looked around the room only to see nothing, I was already losing my mind by imagining things…although nothing seemed to be real, I had to keep reminding myself of tha-

“Ah, the classic ‘I am not Dipper Pines’ verification! Nice touch, huh? It’s all part of the fun, the thrill, the… insanity? But let’s not kid ourselves here—this isn’t just your imagination. This is something far more interesting. You’re on the brink of discovering secrets that most people can only dream of! Sure, things might get a little bloody and a tad unnerving, but that’s the price of admission to the greatest show in the multiverse! Keep your cool, keep that book open, and let’s see where this wild ride takes you. Who knows, you might even enjoy it!” I looked down on the page for Bill and saw that my thumbprint was no longer there and all that remained was a checkmark in the verification box, On the next page showed the table of contents of the book, There were 5 chapters of this book, The introduction chapter that contained information of Bill. A guide to everything that Bill knows, his origin story, a chatper titled “Sixer” from what I could only assume was about Standford Pines and last, the final chapter that conveyed a plan- to what you may ask? I wasn’t sure at the time.  I can see Bill in the bottom corner of the page in those tiny vintage bowls that would contain old hard candy but there were only deer teeth? 

“Well, I hope you don’t disappoint me, Bill. I look forward to what that mind brings from these chapters, especially on the Parallel Dimensions and Urban dimensions page! Also don’t worry about my insanity, I’m already there with my crippling anxiety and many, many unresolved issues!” I said with laughter, bill laughed as well, his laughter was so loud that it began to echo along the walls, 

“Oh, disappointment? Not in my vocabulary! You’re about to dive headfirst into the twisted realms of Parallel Dimensions and Urban Dimensions—where reality bends and logic breaks! Crippling anxiety and unresolved issues? Perfect! You’re already primed for the wildest ride of your life! Embrace the insanity, relish the chaos, and let’s tear down the walls of reality together! We’ll explore the unknown, defy the impossible, and dance on the edge of madness! Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet!” He said with gleeful madness as I looked at my bedroom door anxiously, hoping no one in my house heard that. I could only assume Bill felt this quick change in my demeanor. His laughter is cut short, his tone shifts slightly; still sounding chipper but more calculated. “Oh, worried about dear old mom and dad busting in, huh? I hear ya, my folks were like that as well but as I always say! The thrill of secrets, the fear of getting caught—is delicious, isn’t it? But don’t worry, kiddo, they can’t hear me. This is our little adventure, just between you and me. Keep those fears close; they’ll make the journey even more exhilarating! Now, let's get back to those mind-bending chapters before anyone interrupts our fun. Remember, the best discoveries are made on the edge of fear!” I was kind of listening to Bill but my full attention was glued to my door, as a way to reassure myself, I could hear Bill sigh from the page. 

“C’mon, kiddo! Don’t let the fear of Ma and Pops hold you back from greatness! This journey’s packed with mind-blowing wonders that’ll make you shine! My own family? Oh, they were a real piece of work, but we’ll save that juicy tidbit for later. For now, focus on what you truly want, and watch them beam with pride once you pull it off! I’ll be right here, your trusty guide through the chaos. Get comfortable! Eat some deer teeth—trust me, it’s a delicacy! Let’s dive into this wild ride together!” He said comfortingly as he tossed a single deer tooth from the page, causing it to pass through the brain matter page and into my hand. I smiled politely and gently placed the tooth on the side of the book. “Thanks but I’m not a teeth person but I appreciate the snack!” I said politely as Bill's eye turned into a mouth and chomped on the tooth he held in his hand. “How is he able to eat stuff with his eye? Is it an odd feeling?” I thought to myself as I watched him chew on his weird choice of a snack. I decided to turn the page and I saw a small biography page, “About me” it read, a picture of a beautifully sketched brain was below the words, I began to read the paragraph under it.  To me, it reminded me of a dictionary: 

“Bill,  noun 1. The most important triangle in history; your new best friend, life coach, overlord, style consultant, mentor, mental case, mastermind, and mind master.

So you wanna know about me?

Well, folks, I’m just as rascal! A mischievous fella! A funny little guy! But no matter how loudly I try to scream my intentions, everyone seems to think I’m “evil” or “a sociopath” or “ruining this funeral by playing a slide whistle everytime someone says the name of the deceased.” But I’m not a bad guy! I just operate on my own frequency.  Cosmically and morally! I’ve tried wearing I’ve tried wearing this shirt to explain.” There was an arrow that pointed at bill who, was now wearing a pink shirt that was too big on him, it read “ Umm… I’m a little Different get used to it” Different and get used to it were in two different fonts to express Bill intense and weird personality, and to top it off there was a kiss mark on the shirt. I continued to read the page

“Think of me as your friend who can never die. A bad idea and a good time. The guy pulling the strings behind the unknowable veil of perception. And I have a cute little bow tie. I’ve by many names. Network censors call me “A lawsuit waiting to happen.” Therapists call me “ A sign that the medication isn’t working.” Serial killers call me “Honestly surprisingly down to earth.” Wherever there’s a hand to shake and a deal to make, buddy, I’m there.” There was a centipede that had words on its back that read “Bill Cipher, dream demon. Screen to contact.” To me, this was very odd but then again, so far, Bill is showing himself to be a very odd person. Despite the weird bug on the page, I continued to read the page, looking at the bug to make sure it wouldn’t move on its own to scare me. 

“Look I get it-you're probably craving the rare, never-before details about my life, huh? Well, I haven’t done an interview in a billion years or so, but just you I’ll go to the only unbiased source in the entire multiverse: Me!” 

On the next page, it resembled those celebrity magazines on the latest gossip on Hollywood that you would see in Target or Walmart. Bill was the center on the picture, his hands held together while he sat at a table that had an arrangement of items for a day out for tea. The magazine was titled “The Bill Magazine” The page turned on its own to reveal two Bill Ciphers sitting on two couches across each other. Bill asked himself questions and Bill answered them like any other celebrity would. There would be personal questions, questions to rumors that are given a not-so-straightforward answer, and questions about the person's actions and how they took accountability with a video they posted on the internet. I marveled at the pictures that were taken of Bill from photographers and honestly, the one with Bill wearing pants the wrong way, cracked me up. (I didn’t feel like writing the whole thing because there are soooo many things that I’m gonna have to crack this chapter in separate parts but I can’t decide where to cut it off because I like to make my stories long. I always hated when people made fanfics and then they are cut short everytime which leaves a hangover or it isn’t ongoing anymore but I understand because life gets hella busy so might as well make mine hella long so you guys can have a huge chapter to read until the next one comes out! I apologize but I know what I must do. So If I cut off a page in the book that you liked, I am sorry!!)

As I turned to the next page, Bill was floating in the endless void of space, images of his “eyes” were all over the book that seemed to be pictures that were taken in real life. His presence seemed to be everywhere whether it would be his triangular shape or his eyes. 

“I SEE ALL” 

He said creepily. 

“It’s time to tell you about my unholy powers! Like a potato grew too close to Chernobyl, I’ve got eyes everywhere. Any symbol of me that you draw, scratch, spray-paint, or burn into the human world creates a direct peephole from my reality to yours! The more I see, the more my power grows! The more my power grows, the more fun we can have when you and I finally meet! Wanna help Put me somewhere no one would ever expect! (Just keep me out of the shower, you freak!!)” I cringed at whoever could do something like that but people are people. They’ll do something like that cause you know, cringy crushes or as Ford put the other group of people “EDGY”. I turned the page once more and read Bill's powers which had ranged from Mind reading, possession, ciphervoyance, charisma, pyrokinesis, and…Looking amazing in formal wear? Also, Geometric perfection? I looked at the two of Bill's powers with confusion, I get charisma because I mean, it takes a lot to be smooth when most people are anxious and overthink like myself but everyone falls for it because charisma is a person's weakness. Speaking of weaknesses. I wonder what weaknesses Bill has. I read the other page or well tried to before Bill just lifted the page and spoke out in anger, his appearance taking a glowing red hue. “HOLD UP!! You really thought I was gonna give you step-by-step instructions to taking me down?” Here we were getting along, and you try to stab me in the back! You know what-because you tried to peek at this- I’M CANCELING THE BOOK! That's right, you drove me to this! From this point on, you’re reading The Great Gatsby, instead. BOOK OF BILL OVER!!!” Before I could react the page turned to a portion of The Great Gatsby. I sighed and spoke softly. “Bill, how I could I have stabbed you in the back when you had your weaknesses in the about you chapter of this book? After all, you made this book.” I get no response. Only for the page to be turned again. I roll my eyes at how petty he was trying to be, “Okay you sassy Dorito, be that salty. I would rather read The Great Gatsby and how it explains metaphors that corresponded with the world during that time!” I read the pages of The Great Gatsby until Bill burst through the last page, white out in his hand that he used to cover the end of the page to write what he wanted to say. “ OKAY OKAY ENOUGH!”  I crossed my arms as he yelled his red hue remaining, my face was unfazed by his little outburst. “Yeesh, I get it, the billboard is a metaphor, the American Dream is bittersweet, yak, yak, yak! Look, I might have been a little hasty. Not even a meat pile like you deserves to experience “required reading.” I guess maybe I’m a little touchy about my weaknesses ever since…It’s not important, Let’s just say that none of the life-forms who have tried to figure out what my “weaknesses are” have lived long enough to compare notes.” I looked at him with a cold expression until it quickly faded. “Look I understand why you are upset but again, how was I supposed to know you’re sensitive about something like this? I know I have to get to know you and I appreciate that you are telling me things about yourself that no one will ever hear and see but me but please be if not fully but somewhat aware of your sensitivities.” Bill's yellow hue returned to his triangular form, he looked at me with a bit of respect and arrogance. Once he spoke, his voice was a mixture of a sardonic edge with an undertone of begrudging respect from my words. 

“Oh, so you’re playing the understanding card, huh? I see you’re trying to navigate my labyrinth of quirks and sensitivities. Well, points for effort! Sure, I’ve got my share of touchy spots, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? A little sensitivity here, a little chaos there—it’s all part of the game. Just remember, in this world of mine, the unexpected is the norm. So buckle up and let’s keep this wild ride rolling. The more you get to know me, the crazier the adventure will be!” I sighed picked up the book and walked to my bed, I sat on my bed. My pillow was against my back, the book was now on my lap. “It’s less of understanding but it's more of letting you know that if you know good and well that I’m gonna get to know you, I’m also going to see the more sensitive parts of you that make you vulnerable If you can’t handle sharing certain information then maybe wait until you are ready to let me in on that personal level, until then, if you don’t like it, don't give me that sass for your actions” I said politely as I continued to stare at him. 

He crackles mockingly and playfully speaks as a way to challenge my words. “Oh, so you’re laying down the law, huh? Fair enough, I get it—boundaries and all that jazz. But hey, this whole thing is a dance, and I didn’t think you’d be afraid of stepping on a few toes. If you’re gonna wade into my personal chaos, you’d better be ready for the mess that comes with it! I’ll dial back the sass if you promise to keep your curiosity sharp and your sense of adventure sharper. Deal?” I shake my head at Bill's response; 

“Well, I mean, it's common sense and I’m placing a boundary because it seemed like you don’t like bringing it up so I might as well politely remind you that you don’t have to if you don’t want to speak about them. Take it as you will I don’t care unless you do care that I’m putting a boundary for your sake.”  I say nonchalantly, showing my true intentions and speaking whatever words pop out of my brain but that's just how my mind works. I do not think things over but I say what comes into my mind because it's how I feel or see things. It’s just my honesty and it has gotten me in trouble a few times. Bill’s voice takes on a slightly defensive but playful tone. “Oh, boundaries and common sense—what a combo! I get it, you’re playing it safe and looking out for me. How very considerate! I’ll keep that in mind, no need to twist my eye into a pretzel over it. If it makes things smoother and keeps the fun rolling, who am I to complain? Boundaries, schmountaries—just don’t let it cramp your style too much. After all, a little chaos is what makes this adventure truly wild!”

I gave a witty response back to Bill “Well, if we must go through chaos then I might as well be respectful, no matter how crazy this book and its author is.” Bill only laughed and wiped the tear from his eye “Sure, Whatever ya say kiddo but I do have to say, I’m starting to like ya!” he said with amusement. 

As I turned the page, it revealed another letter from Stanford Pines. 

“STANDFORD PINES HERE 

If you’ve reached this page, then you ignored my instructions and have begun to read The Book of  Bill. You can’t hear the long disappointed sigh I’m making right now, but I assure you it's devastating. Yes, I’m judging you-you’re making a terrible mistake! I don’t know what ridiculous things Bill is telling you right now, but I assure you none of it is true, useful, or in good taste. I took a glimpse at the book myself, and it was mostly extremely complex and riddles- he’s trying to bait me into solving them because he knows my curiosity is my Achilles’ heel. And he’s counting on yours being the same! If you’re the type is ignore reason even when it’s staring you in the face, then I’m sure the last thing you want is to be scolded by some old man, wagging one of his 6 fingers at you. Chances are, you’re at some desperate point in life. Perhaps you have lost something dear to you, or you’re in the throes of some all-consuming monomaniacal ambition. Or perhaps you just are attracted to things that haunt you.  As a cipherholic myself, I want you to know there is another way. Close this book right now.  Go on with your life. Maybe take up an exciting hobby like cataloging the wing patterns of various types of various types of rare tree-bark-dwelling moths.  I’ve pinned one of gravity falls, “Goth Moths” here. You’d probably be into that sort of thing. Or you can keep turning the pages to see what absurd thing he’s distracting you with next. What's going to be-a tantalizing glimpse of your future, perhaps? How to speak to trees? Something obviously impossible, like how to make a nuclear bomb out of ducklings? It’s not worth it. Trust me. YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME.” I take in his warnings but I can’t help but not really appreciate Ford's avoidance of confrontation. I’m not doubting his knowledge because he seems protective to whoever gets their hands on this book (despite being a complete stranger) but what if the only way to destroy the book was to find it on the inside rather than leaving it closed because what if the book tries to find another victim? How can we stop them when there will always be that one person who’d end up falling for it and letting him out? If Ford truly is trying to avoid Bill coming back, then I might as well find a way and if I don’t I’m gonna make sure this book stays with me until I bring it to the right person and the only person I could ever bring it do was Standford Pines. I looked at the moth that was pined on the page, it was pretty to me, I could see why they call it the “Goth Moth” I’m sure all the goth kids love this moth and would want to keep it as a beautiful pet of the night, the face on the wings remind me of that Halloween and Christmas movie I watched as a kid. 

I turn the page, keeping Standford's warnings at the back of my head. I saw Bill looking into a keyhole of a large door that said atop the frame “The Secrets of the Universe”. On the right of the page. I hear Bill speak “Oh, hello there. You just caught me peeking at all the secrets of the universe! The meaning of life, what everyone’s saying about you behind your back, how to make s functioning atomic bomb out of ducklings, blah blah blah blah, boring stuff like that and my entire journey through history. You wouldn’t be interested! Hmm? What’s that? Okay, I can tell you by how comically wide your eyes are getting that you really wanna know what’s behind this door! Look…normally I only share my unholy knowledge with close personal henchmen…but you seem like the type of human who can keep infinite secrets. All right. I’ll consider letting you take a peek…IF YOU CAN PASS MY TEST. I need to know your mind is powerful enough to handle my deep, dark secrets without your brain melting out your ears and staining your shirt. Lucky for you I keep one of these brain-power tests with me at all times in case I come upon a potential new V̶i̶c̶t̶i̶m̶  best friend!” I was concerned about how he said the victim and quickly changed the word to best friend. I don’t know how badly I’m screwed but hey, I wanted to open the book with hope that I could destroy it and I accept that and my fate from how this all goes.  I hear Bill's cheery voice,  “Get that pencil sharpened buddy!-it’s time to see what you’re made of! (Aside from bile and dead skin flakes.)” He said as he, I guess smiled at me and then turned his attention back to the door and muttered to himself, “Oh-oh-OH! No kidding? Wow, they should NOT have published that…” 

As I grabbed a pencil off my nightstand and turned the page, the test was confusing and seemed impossible to me, it was filled with images, puzzles, scenarios, and riddles that made little to no sense. I sat there heavily confused, I didn’t know how to answer them, even if I tried; so to make it easier on my brain because I began to have a headache from reading and trying to figure it out; I turned the pages until I got to the answer key page. There were two answers “You Failed” and “You passed”  in all caps on the page. At first, I thought I had failed by not answering the questions but to my surprise, I didn’t fail. I looked at the page my brows furrowed with confusion. After that weirdly long and confusing test; not answering the question was the answer to this overly complicated test? I saw a picture of two figures, one was familiar and the other wasn’t. It was a drawing of Standford next to a little boy with the same lost expression. Was this boy his grandson? Nephew? I wasn’t too sure but you can see it from a mile away that they were related. Although the comment about them was distasteful to me. “Pictured guys who like homework. Not pictured girlfriends.” I mean I understand why no one likes homework but its there to make sure we understand the things we have learned and we continue to use this useful knowledge into our adulthood. (I wasn’t very good in school but it's still good to know things even when you know damn well you won’t use a majority of the things you learned but it's still necessary.) Bill appeared as a clay figure on the right of the page that had a cuckoo clock with other clay figures of himself. 

Bill’s laughter crackles and echos throughout my room. “Well color me impressed, dollface! You’re not as dumb as I thought you were. Not many can navigate the twisted paths I lay out, but you? You’ve got that special spark. You’ve proven you’re not just some ordinary mind; you’ve got the guts, the brains, and just the right amount of crazy to keep up with me! Now that you’ve earned your place, the real fun begins. Get ready, because from here on out, things are only going to get weirder, wilder, and a whole lot more dangerous! Welcome to the next level, kid!” He said as he pulled on the straps of his lederhosen with an impressed look in his eye as he stared at me. 

“Before we continue Bill, I have something to ask you about the test,” I said with a hint of curiosity. Bill propped his foot on a log as he put his hands on his….uh. I guess I’m gonna say his triangular form since he has no hips- and spoke in playful suspicion, he gives an intrigued stare. “Oh? A question, you say? Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but I like where this is going. What’s on your mind, kid? Ask away—but be careful, the answers might just be more than you bargained for!”

“Was the point of the test supposed to be that how to understand your knowledge of everything is that the universe is a weird, chaotic place that may seem complicated but it is as the test? It’s a thing that will confuse someone but you just have to turn a page and see that no matter whether you answer, there isn’t a correct answer at all, it's just all complicated and choatic either way?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion

Bill burst into laughter of amusement and approval, his voice practically oozing with his twisted satisfaction, “Bingo! You’ve hit the nail right on the head! The universe is a swirling mess of chaos and contradictions, and trying to make sense of it is like trying to solve a puzzle with no pieces! The test wasn’t about finding the ‘right’ answer—it was about embracing the madness, realizing that there isn’t a neat little solution waiting for you. The universe is weird, unpredictable, and gloriously chaotic, just like me! And the sooner you accept that, the more fun you’ll have playing the game. So, what do you say? Ready to dive deeper into the madness?”

Now…this was my first mistake, despite the previous warnings I had reminded myself from Ford's letters, I fell into Bill's trap and I can say this with genuine honesty; I wanted to know how Bill viewed everything. From life to death, and I even wanted to know his life, what made him the being he was-is? I felt genuine curiosity because if there was no right answer and we have to just accept the universe as it is then maybe the universe itself accepts you as you are, People's views on anything and everything is chaotic, confusing, and different just like how the universe is; yet we still continuously find answers when there isn’t one and it doesn’t matter if there was one, just be happy with whatever you got and accept that the universe is weird, and as Bill put it, “a whirling mess of chaos.” I felt like my overly complicated question that people, and even my own family would raise an eyebrow to was finally answered by someone who could answer it. I didn’t feel ashamed to ask these weird questions. I felt happy that my question was answered. 

“Heck yeah, I am!! I wanna see all the weird views and knowledge you have on anything and EVERYTHING! Even about yourself!!” I say happily as I give Bill a genuine smile. Bill's eyes widened with delight, his voice laced with a manic excitement as he spoke, “Now that’s the spirit! I knew you had it in you! You’re diving headfirst into the unknown, eager to unravel every twisted secret, every bizarre truth! And trust me, kid, I’ve got plenty to share—about the universe, reality, and even a little about yours truly! You’re in for a wild ride, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner in chaos! So, buckle up, keep that smile wide, and let’s tear through the fabric of reality together! There’s no turning back now!” I turn the page to reveal the title of this new chapter. 

(I will update this once I am fully done with the chapter since this will go over a lot of pages in the book! So, I am taking shortcuts and narrowing some making the important ones longer and giving more Bill interactions. Also, I changed the titles to days so I can make it really seem like it's a journal or crazy post from an insane person because it's not real and this writing is just for fun.)

[nephilimcursed]

Bella's Route: Haunted Dark Bridal (G-Edition) - Prologue Part One

The game loads strangely, with slight distortion to your screen. You are no longer... playing as Yui. How strange, instead there is a dark haired girl with peircing, warm gold eyes in the corner of the screen. The background is a dark forest at night, black goo seeps over the leaves.

Bella: "Huh, well that was rougher than most of my fights..."

Bella: (It's been a while since a demon has given me that good of a fight. Maybe it's because I haven't eaten in a while...)

Your character gives her angel blade a spin before putting it back inside the sheath.

Bella: (I should consider stopping by a gas station or something. The Clave only give me a limited amount of money, so I'll only be able to afford Ramen again... but it's better than nothing. Plus it's been 5 days since my last meal.)

Bella: (I'm so thirsty... I don't have enough pecunia to buy a drink though. I suppose water from a river can do.)

Bella: (Ahh- My shoulder was wounded. It's deep, if it had gone through even an inch more, it would have been fully through my flesh and bone. Ouch... It's stinging by the moment.)

Bella: (If only I still had my stele, all I'd have to do is draw a rune on myself to heal. I should have never lost it to those Moloch demons back in New York.)

Bella: (Since I can't go to a Shadowhunter Institue unless ordered, I suppose I'll have to wait to get another. Which means no more runes for a while. I have to heal the human way.)

Bella: (I saw the gas station up the road, I can walk there, wrap up my shoulder, and get food. Then... back to being ordnance.)

Your character trudges up the road to a gas station, and the background changes to that of a interior of a gas station.

Bella: (Finally, that was a longer walk than I thought.)

Bella: "Mphm, ramen..."

Bella: (I'm kinda sick of this, this has been all I've had for a few months now. But at least it keeps my body running in a way. I should probably try to find a place to get some sleep sometime too.)

Bella: (Now that I have this though, I should get bandages and disinfectant. Without my stele, I could get infected.)

Your character walks to the tiny section of mini supplies for the medical supplies.

Bella: (Good, this will cost me all my money for the week. But at least it'll be enough to heal me and gain some of my strength back.)

Bella: (Why does it feel like... someone is looking at me?)

Your character turns, to spot our first familiar face, Ayato Sakamaki. He is simply staring at her as if to admire her figure.

Bella: (Ew... what a fucking creep. He has nothing better to do, huh? Argh, men...)

Bella: (Whoa, that bone structure though... and those eyes. They're like pure emeralds.)

We see another familiar face appear in the scene, Yui. It's strange, seeing her not in the corner, but on the same scale as Ayato. She looks quite worried. There is a Japanese audio, but it seems your character cannot understand the language.

Bella: (That boy... He's familiar... That doesn't matter- he's acting with a lot of disrespect toward the poor girl...)

Bella: (Should I butt in?)

CHOOSE:

Intervene <<<<♡

Don't Intervene

You chose Intervene.

Bella: "Hey, I don't think that's a very nice way to talk to a girl."

Ayato: "Hm? What did you say...?"

Bella: "I said, fuck off. I couldn't understand what the fuck you were saying, but I know you addressed her in a hostile way."

Ayato: "What makes you think you can tell ore-sama what to say to chichinashi, melons?"

Bella: "Don't call me melons, Christmas."

Ayato: "Christmas??"

Bella: "Yeah, you have red hair and green eyes, idiot. If you wanna pick a fight with me, be aware I'll snap back."

Ayato: "..."

Ayato: "Chichinashi! Hurry and come back to the car."

Ayato exits. Yui goes to follow.

Bella: "Wait one second."

Yui:"Hm?"

Bella: "Are you okay...? If he's not treating you right, I can help."

Yui: "Oh... That's very kind of you, but when Ayato-kun gets like this... Best thing to do is do what he says..."

Bella: (I can't help her if she doesn't let me...)

Bella: "Alright, but hey, take my number. If you want, call me. If I'm still in town, I'll get you away."

Your character hands Yui a slip of paper with your number on it.

Yui: "Oh... How nice of you. Thank you so much..."

Bella: "Yeah, what's your name, kid?"

Yui: "My name is Yui Komori... Who are you?"

Bella: "Bella Wayland, nice to meet you, Ms Komori."

Yui: "Nice to meet you too... Thank you."

Ayato: "CHICHINASHI!!!"

Yui: "Kya...! I better go..."

Bella: "Keep my number, be safe."

Yui: "Thank you again... goodbye..."

Bella: "Arrivederci."

Yui leaves, leaving Bella to pay for her food and leave.

[sincerely-sofie]

The piece you wrote awhile back about Twig's passing, has that changed at all since Opal came into the picture?

I’ve been considering that piece noncanonical because of how sad it makes me. Twig dying to a mundane infection after all she’s survived feels fitting in a very sad way, but the more I think about it, the more I feel like it’s a waste— both in-universe and at a meta level— for her to die in her mid 40s. Especially as I add in more cast members to this AU and consider Ark’s perspective.

She’s got so many people to stick around for. I hate the idea of squandering the potential in her interactions with Gengar and Calypso especially just to squeeze out one last drop of angst. And that’s not even to mention Opal, who wasn’t a part of the story when I wrote that piece. If Twig dies when I initially planned, the gal would barely be thirteen when it happens, and I can’t handle that.

When you factor in Ark as well, it’s the most unsatisfying turn around to his character arc. He’s just figuring out that life isn’t doesn’t hate him, and then the woman he loves kicks the bucket after a long, painful, illness that he’s partly to blame for? The ending line of that fic where he laments that it’s not fair rubs me the wrong way looking back on it. I don’t think he’d recover from that, and it’s such a disappointing ending to Twig’s life. She’d be so ticked that her legacy is one of grief and despair instead of fondness and growth.

Instead, I think it would be more interesting for Twig to live far longer than any charmander-line pokemon has on record. She’s a lot more hale and hearty than a charizard in her 80s should ever be, especially when you consider it’s remarkable if they live to 60. There’s an anxiety surrounding her slowed aging, and Ark in particular wonders when the temporal distortion affecting her will waver and she’ll finally pass. It eventually does happen— and Twig is still reluctant to allow people to be there when she does slip away— but she does let Ark be present at his insistence that she doesn’t shut him out during this final stretch of time he has with her.

Twig dies, and it’s not fair— nor will it ever be. There’s grieving to be done in the wake of a loss so deep. Everyone takes it hard, and Ark will never forget the morning he found Opal solemnly flipping through an old sketchpad with drawings Twig left for her to discover in the corners of each page.

It's the first time Ark has ever grappled with immortality like this. He's going to live forever without the person who showed him life was worthwhile. He sees her memory in everything around him, and a century later he still catches himself thinking that Twig would like a certain flower and that he should tell her its name when he gets home. He'll miss her for eternity, and her death will never stop hurting. But he'll never regret being able to learn from and love her.

Opal's been practically raised as a mortal. Grovyle's passing was her first exposure to death that hit her family. She'd seen Dad upset after they attended a funeral for a nidoqueen, but it didn't have the same impact as Grovyle— and nothing was as world-shattering as Mother's death. She bottles it up and hides from her grief at first, only letting herself mourn when she goes through the old sketchbooks she shared with Twig. After a conversation with Lucky, though, she finally lets herself grieve in full, and goes to Ark about it.

It’s difficult to move on, and maybe none of them ever will. But Twig’s death slowly becomes less of a wound and her memory becomes more of a balm. They miss her, and they love her, and her love for them is something they'll never go without feeling.

[ask-team-misfit]

[ in response to this ; @ask-the-lywelles ]

He didn't respond. Not vocally, that is.

His face that had changed from deep-seated anger to hurt and grief, even eyeing the scarf like he longed for its touch, said more than enough.

But then, he began to sense something else. He had a vague feeling there was someone else in the burrow with them.

This feeling quickly grew, and his antennae wriggled anxiously.

He smelled it.

Heard it.

iamyourdoubt asked: Safety... Such a precious thing, Lief. I don't blame you for seeking it, trying to grasp it. Who wants to go out of their way for the ungrateful, anyway? Heroes don't get paid for the risks they submit themselves to. I wouldn't worry about her. She's no longer your problem now. She's her own problem. You've had enough problems in your past, why should you involve yourself now? Why risk that safety that you craved so much? I mean, as far as I can tell, you've speak not of family and your old home for safety, done what was necessary. What's one more? You speak not of who you got that scarf from, for your safety. It's why you keep so many things close to your heart, for safety. Don't risk that, keep what you have. Safety is comforting, quiet, still. It stays here, in this home, and stays out of the way of the world outside as it crashes against itself, Lief.

[ @iamyourdoubt ]

Saw it.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Vahni, an Umbreon, and Doubt, a shadowy Ekans. Vahni is oblivious that Doubt is behind her, staring head on with surprise, and Doubt is smiling knowingly. End ID ]

The ethereal whisper that tickled his ears and filled his mind with dread, and doubt.

The illusory Ekans that appeared as if it was about to evaporate into shadowy aura, its smoky body permeating the air in the burrow and distorting it, as if it didn’t belong here.

Yet it was here, leering at him with that haunting grin, watching and waiting for his response.

It knew his name.

It likely knew everything more.

Was it one of those creatures from that day? Was even this place compromised?

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. His fur bristled.

Lief: “I-it speaks… Those things can speak. Is this some kind of sick joke?”

And when he could speak, it was as if he were out of breath.

Lief: “Have you been following me around? Came back to finish the job?”

He appeared high-strung as he stared behind Vahni at it, his movements careful and slow as if looking for the opportunity for strike. Now on his fours upon the bed, his tail began rising somewhat.

Lief: “H-how dare you. Coming into my home, talking about safety, right before you kill me like you did her. Well, I’m not about to let you.”

He wasn’t thinking.

A pinkish aura faintly surrounded him, outlining his body in the dark of the burrow.

When he next opened his mouth, his voice came out amplified by the aura, loud and unpleasant. The aura itself let loose shockwaves, and with those waves came a painful, shrill cry.

[ ID: A grayscale drawing of Lief standing on all fours with his back arched and fur standing on end. He's shouting with his eyes closed, as Vahni in the foreground covers her ears and recoils in pain from the shockwaves. Lief's appearance is as described here. End ID ]

Lief: “Not without defending myself!”

Lief used Disarming Voice!

It’s super-effective on Vahni.

[amazingmsme]

You're The Mouse

AN: I was having a hard time wondering just what I wanted to do for the chase prompt, and then I met Distortion Michael & the rest is history! This was an absolute blast of a fic to write, definitely one of the longer ones you'll see this month. I already miss Tim a lot so he gets a nice lil spotlight too. Posting this at 2am because I'm excited & the one time I did that it blew up. Hope y'all enjoy day 6!

It had been a long, tiring day with some rather harrowing statements he had to hear and record himself. His back ached from hunching over the desk for hours without a good break, and he felt tired down to his bones. Even his eyes felt tired, burning from the strain of staring at small font and lack of blinking. He couldn't wait to get home and crash in the couch. It was only Wednesday, which for him didn't bode well for the rest of the week.

He should've noticed the static. That fuzzy ringing in his ears that started out quiet, only to grow in intensity. If his mind wasn't so frazzled, he would've noticed that's not his usual office door.

A chill ran down his spine when he stepped through the doorway and found himself deep in the tunnels.

"Oh God," he muttered to himself, backing up and turning to run, but it was too late. The door was gone, and he ran straight into Michael's arms. Though he didn't remain there for long.

He screamed and started trashing, managing to elbow him in the stomach and stomp on his foot. Temporarily hurt, he recoiled enough for his grip to slip so Jon could free himself. He whipped around to face him once he felt there was a suitable distance between them. Although with Michael, he wasn't sure there even was such a thing.

"What the hell do you want now?" he growled, hands gripping the strap of his messenger bag tightly. Michael let out an echoing, disorienting chuckle.

"Oh archivist, I simply want some fun."

That was quite possible one of the worst things he could've said, at least in Jon's opinion. Because when Michael had fun, people usually ended up dead or insane, or in a cruel twist of fate, both.

"Maybe you should pick up a hobby, like drawing or golfing, or literally anything that involves leaving all of us alone," he suggested, though it felt more like a plea once it left his tongue. Michael let out a shrill giggle.

"You just don't get it, do you?" he asked with a tilt of his head. His wide smile was unnerving. "You're my favorite little toy."

Jonathan's face scrunched up in disgust as he looked him up and down, clearly not amused by his statement.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter archivist, I didn't mean it like that," he scolded. "It's more like... when you were a child and you'd build fantastic cities out of blocks just so you could watch their destruction at your own hands." He took a step closer. "I'm just looking for a bit of fun amidst the chaos."

His held his hand out in front of him, reaching for Jon. His eyes widened in fear, stumbling backwards. Michael's hand distorted and stretched before his very eyes, long fingers growing in the darkness of the tunnels. Jon was already halfway down the hall.

Michael loved the thrill of the chase. He loved hearing the rapid thud of a racing heart, the panicked gasps for air as they ran for an escape. They were all the same, really, if he thought about it. Just a mindless chase through endless, winding halls that always ended victoriously. (For him, at least.)

Jon was frantic. Why now, of all days? He was so ready to walk through his front door, kick off his shoes and enjoy a nice hot frozen meal on his couch. It really was the least he could ask for, and yet, he couldn't even have that. The only saving grace was the fact that he was in the archive tunnels instead of whatever weird pocket dimension the Distortion liked to trap people in. His lungs ached as his feet pounded against the hard, dirt floor, eyes searching through the dark for something, anything to register with him and give him a clue as to his whereabouts, but it all looked the same.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!" the voice was shrill and empty, the words hollowed out and stuffed to the brim with static. It echoed through the tunnels, and Jon couldn't tell where it came from, but the echo made it sound so fucking close and that sent him into a panic.

He ran ahead, ducking in a small alcove to catch his breath. He felt like he'd put a sufficient distance between them to be safe enough to do so. He gulped down air until the burn in his lungs subsided. He raised two fingers to his neck, checking his racing pulse and willed himself to calm down. Every reaction was just giving Michael exactly what he wants.

He needed to conserve his energy, move slower to remain quiet and keep his wits about him. He was pretty sure he had his bearings now, which was a plus. But if he really was where he thought he was, then they were deep in the underground maze. It took the better part of 30 minutes to even get to this point in the tunnels!

At least he knew where he was, he told himself, forcing himself to focus on the bright side of things. He walked at a brisk pace, a borderline jog really. He wanted to get out of here quickly, but he didn't want to give Michael the satisfaction of causing him to panic.

"Believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you, archivist. I simply want to have some simple, haaarmless funnn together, ehehehehehe!" His voice went shrill and warbly and distorted towards the end of his unnerving giggle so much that it became almost inaudible. And fuck, if it didn't make Jon run.

Could you blame him though? There was no way that- that thing actually meant what it said. It was absolutely going to hurt him. And it was probably going to do so in the most terrible ways imaginable.

Jon hated the deep, guttural scream that ripped from his throat when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the blonde monster.

His feet scrambled on the packed dirt and he was already turning around, but arms that were too long wrapped around him from behind, dragging him back as they retracted to a more normal length. He was screaming and kicking the air, arms fighting to free themselves.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?" he chastised, holding a single finger to Jon's lips to quiet him. He went silent out of shock more than actual compliance.

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?" Jon demanded, mustering enough confidence to glare him down. Michael just laughed.

"Like I said, I'm just looking for some fun. You humans aren't the only ones who get bored you know," he said condescendingly. Jon remained silent.

"I tend to- peak in, from time to time, just to see how my favorite sheeple are holding up," he mused, causing Jon to visibly cringe and roll his eyes.

"Good to know there's actual reason behind always feeling like I'm being watched," he grumbled.

"Oh no, I'm not the only one, but trust me, I'm your favorite."

"Quite the opposite."

"Well, I will be your favorite," he winked and giggled to himself. "But last week, I noticed you playing with your friends. You looked soooo happy then... I'd like to make you happy like that too, Jon."

What a nice sentiment from such a not nice entity, not to mention he had no clue what he was talking about. "Bullshit, you don't want to make me happy, you want to ruin my life!" he snapped, still continuing his struggle.

"Oh, but can't I do both? Life ruining is such a long process, and I'd really like to hear that laugh in person."

Realization dawned on him the same time terror wracked his body, body going stiff and eyes bugging out. Michael cocked his head, that unnaturally large smile forming into a curious pout.

"Why archivist, if I didn't know better I'd say you look frightened," he cooed. "There's no need for that. You didn't have that look when Martin snuck up on you in the break room," he pointed out.

"You keep his name out your fucking mouth," Jon growled, and in a moment he was pressing into the Distortion's space. He had grabbed him by the shirt collar and jerked him so hard his neck snapped at the momentum, their noses almost touching. A few flecks of spit even landed on Michael's cheek from the force of Jon's rage. It genuinely took him aback before a wicked grin took over.

"Your boy toy's off limits, lesson learned."

"He's not my-" Jon cut himself off, seeing no use in arguing with him. His eyes were closed and he pressed a free hand to his temple. "Look. You said you wanted your sick fun, but all you've done since capturing me is talk. I'm a smart man, I know I can't escape this. But I'm fucking tired, and I just wanna go home, so the sooner you shut up and get on with it, the better."

There was a beat of silence, and then a shit eating grin followed by, "If you wanted me to tickle you already, you could've just said so."

"No, I want to go home you assho-" Jon cut off his own rambling mid sentence as Michael started fluttering his fingers over his sides, prompting him to clamp his mouth shut. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm doing this so I can hear that cute, funny laugh of yours archivist! The longer you hold out the longer I have to tickle tickle tickle you!" his taunt echoed off the walls. Jon flushed and hid his face in his hands.

"Y-you're sohoho fucking weheheird!" His voice pitched higher towards the end of his sentence when Michael tweaked his sides before drilling in his thumb. He tossed his head back with a discordant cackle of his own, seemingly amused by the response.

"Is that really the best insult you can come up with? How adorably pathetic!" he cooed, reaching around with his other hand to knead his belly. Jon writhed in his grip, snickering and squealing with no way to escape.

"Shut up or Ihihi'll- nohoho wahahait!" the threat died on his tongue, melting into frantic giggles. He kicked his feet in the air and gently shoved at the offending tickly hands, but to no avail. He slumped in his hold, leaning back over his arm and covered his face with his hands.

"Oh? And what exactly am I waiting for?" Michael asked, cocking his head. The way he was so calm while picking Jon apart made it all the more maddening. Those long, spindly fingers were able to work their way into every tickle spot they could find, and it was perhaps the most horrendous thing he's ever felt in his life.

"I-Ihihi dohon't knohohow!" he whined, yelping when Michael pinched and prodded at his soft tummy. "Just shuhut up!"

"Hm, I don't think I will. Especially if it gets you all worked up like that," he taunted. Ironically, he started tracing a large spiral over his stomach, closing in on his bellybutton. Jon snorted, covering his face with one hand while trying to push Michael away with the other.

"Ohoho you've gotta behehe johoking," Jon groaned through his giddy laughter, rolling his eyes.

"What? It's my signature, I simply have to," he said casually, closing in on the center of his stomach. Jon's deep chuckles morphed until they were high pitched and bubbly. He was blushing like a fool behind his hand, shrieking and wiggling in Michael's arms all the while.

~~~

Tim had the worst luck. He had been halfway home when he realized he'd not only left his wallet, but his keys as well, at the institute. He backtracked, grumbling to himself the whole time.

He hated nothing more than being alone in the archives. It was bad enough being there during the day surrounded by people, but at night when those endless halls and rooms were empty? It might as well be straight out of a horror game.

He was trying to get to his office as fast as possible, but slowed as he neared Jon's office. The light was off, and he couldn't hear talking, sure, but the door was left open. Jon never left his door open.  The sight filled Tim with dread.

"Boss? You still here?" he called out, but received no answer. He walked to the door and peeked inside, greeted only by a dark and empty room.

Maybe he just forgot to shut the door when he left, he tried to reason with himself. But none of them were that lucky, especially not Jon. Still, he went back to retrieve his things and be on his way.

Execpt that's when he heard it.

Muffled screaming. Coming from below.

Tim froze, unsure if what he was hearing was true. He bent down, putting his ear to the floor and listened.

He could just make it out.

"Please, no, have mercyyyyy!"

That was someone pleading for their life. That was Jon pleading for his life... He raced to the trapped doors.

He had the sickening feeling that he'd walk in on Elias standing over Jon's body, having killed him deep within the tunnels just as he did Gertrude. Well not today.

He descended into the tunnels, pausing when he heard frantic, hysterical screams echoing down the halls, but he could swear it sounded like... laughter. And now that he was within the tunnels, he could hear that it was undeniably Jon's.

Just what the hell was going on?

~~~

Jon knew he was going to die here, in these godforsaken tunnels. He had no way of stopping this, and Michael proved to be just as relentless now as he's ever been. And those long fucking fingers of his were absolute torture. Just one hand was big enough to vibrate over his entire stomach and still wrap around to dig  into his sides and scribble at the base of his spine. Jon was effectively in hysterics, shrieking and giggling with no end in sight.

He should hate this. Should hate that it was Michael of all people doing this to him, but an overwhelming part of him was relieved that he wasn't subjected to legitimate torture. A more foolish part of him thought that maybe Michael was warming up to them: that maybe he wasn't so downright malicious after all.

And then he felt sharp nails scratching behind both his ears, and that thought was gone as soon as it had arrived. If he hadn't been cackling so loud, perhaps they would've heard Tim calling out for Jon, telling him to just hold on, he'll be right there.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?"

If Jon hadn't been so preoccupied, he'd have jumped and shrieked in fright, though he was shrieking for an entirely different reason at the moment. Michael on the other hand, did startle, having been caught red handed. He almost seemed embarrassed, and dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Jon landed flat on his back, the breath being knocked out of his already breathless lungs. Tim was frozen in place, taking in the scene. He was knocked out of his daze when he saw Jon hit the ground, and he immediately rushed over to help him up.

Jon was gasping and wheezing, face red and hair messy, but he still had that rare, genuine smile on his face.

"Sorry you had to see that, I had thought the archives was empty," Michael said in lieu of an explanation.

"Yeah, it was. Good thing I had to come back," Tim snapped. Michael rolled his eyes.

"Oh please, he's perfectly fine. I didn't harm a single hair on his head."

"You fucking dropped me!"

Michael let out a shrill chuckle. "And that was a complete accident! But you can't really blame me for wanting to have my own fun with you. Especially after everyone else made it look like so much fun."

"Hey, you stay away from him! Only we're allowed to torture Jon like that!" Tim scolded weakly, but it was all he could think to say. Which just made him feel stupid when Michael continued to laugh at them.

"Oh, so you're the only ones who can toy with the archivist, is that it?" he asked tauntingly, cocking his head. Tim opens his mouth to answer, but stops short. Jon is sitting curled in a ball, hiding his face in his knees.

"No, you've got it wrong. We do it because we care about him, and want him to be happy, even if it's short lived. You do it for your own sick kicks!" Tim accused. Jon's head snapped up when he admitted their reasoning for why they always seem to tickle him out of the blue. It brought a shy smile to his face as he recovered from the ordeal.

"... Well that's a rude assumption. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about."

Tim snorted, "My point exactly." They were all quiet, the three of them engaged in a bit of a stalemate. "Aren't you going to show yourself the door?" he boldly prompted. Jon choked on his own spit in shock.

Michael's smile widened. "You know, I wasn't quite finished yet. And I'd hate for you to feel left out," he playfully threatened, and his limbs stretched ever so slightly as he spoke. Tim took a step back, eyes wide. Jon was just now making to stand, and pointed at him sternly.

"No." He stood up and dusted himself off, glasses askew on his face. He straightened them and cleared his throat. "Haven't you had enough? You leave him, and everyone else alone." And just because he knows better than to trust Michael, added, "That includes me too."

"I'll think about it. It'd be easier if you weren't so fun to tickle. Isn't that right Tim?" Michael asked, even winking at the pair. Jon blushed and turned away, and Tim failed to fight back a smile.

"Heh. Right." He shook himself out of it, glaring at Michael as he stood by Jon protectively. "B-but you just mind your business."

"Ha! Unlikely, diet archivist."

"Hey!" Tim snapped at the insulted and Jon stifled an amused  snicker. He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Michael opened a door that hadn't been there a second ago, standing in the doorway.

"Until we meet again," he waved at them, closing the door behind him, leaving them stunned and alone.

Now that Michael was gone, Tim turned to Jon with a teasing smirk. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be fine. I'm honestly... more confused than anything." Tim barked out a laugh and patted his shoulder.

"You and me both."

They began their trek out of the tunnels, walking side by side quietly until Tim broke the silence.

"So, what's it like being tickled senseless by the Distortion?" he asked in a teasing tone. Jon flushed and shot a glare his way, but he had that happy, sheepish grin plastered on his fast, just like every other time they wrecked him.

"Oh, should I have let you find out for yourself?" Jon quipped to mask his own embarrassment.

Tim looked down with a faint blush. "Fair point." A beat, and then, "You know we have to tell the others, right?"

Jon choked on his own spit, and Tim stopped walking to give him a moment. He looked at him expectantly, while Jon looked at him with a floored look.

"Are you joking?" he asked.

"As much as I wish I were, no." The shit eating grin on his face said otherwise. "You heard what that thing said. We're all fair game in his eyes." Jon gave a noncommittal hum. "They deserve a bit of a warning, don't you think?" It was true, but he didn't have to be so damn smug about it.

"Yes," Jon begrudgingly agreed through a growl.

"Think it might be best if you made a statement. You know, so we have an accurate account for the record."

Jon groaned and hid behind his hair. "I would literally rather die." Tim barked out a laugh and threw an arm over his shoulders.

"Always with the dramatics! So you're saying you'd rather tell them in person? Look them in the eyes and admit how I saved you-"

"Don't-"

"From the big bad ti-"

Jon didn't think he'd ever been so embarrassed. "Stop!"

"The big bad tickle monster named Michael!" Tim rushed out in one breath, laughing at the flustered squeak he made as he marched ahead. It took him no time at all to catch up, thanks to his long legs. "Oh come on, you know it's funny!"

Jon huffed, unable to hide his lingering smile. "Only because it wasn't you, asshole."

They continued their playful banter back and forth, unaware of the tape recorder that had appeared in Jon's pocket the moment he entered the tunnels, listening in and capturing every word.

~~~

Tim was relieved when he made it back home, slipping his key in the door and stepping inside. Strange, how he didn't seem to notice the change from handle to doorknob.

His eyes flew open when he was met with the sight of an endless, shifting corridor. He felt sick. A chill ran down his spine, his ears were ringing, his head filled with static and he stumbled in an attempt to get his bearings. There was a sinking feeling in his gut, and he felt so trapped.

Michael walked out from the nothingness, grin much too wide for his face. Tim hugged his arms to his body and stepped back, fighting an involuntary smile tugging at his lips.

"Y-you stay back! I'll fuck you up!" Tim cried, bravely putting his hands up, balled into fists and ready to swing. Michael laughed, and it was a sound that unsettled Tim to his very core. He held his hands up, and Tim couldn't help but flinch at the movement.

"Believe it or not, I'm not here to torture you. I'll save that for a rainy day," he added, chuckling at his own joke. Tim lowered his arms, staring at him skeptically.

"Okaaaay. So what the hell are you doing in my home?"

"But I brought you to my home," he corrected, and that wide grin turned just a tad condescending. Tim narrowed his eyes and set his jaw.

"Yeah, through my front door!" he argued before sighing in defeat, pinching the bride of his nose. "So what do you want?"

"I wanted to give you something." Tim perked up, looking at him in shock. He jumped and yelped when Michael was standing right in front of him. He held out the tape recorder.

"A little... souvenir from earlier. I doubt Sasha and Martin will believe you without proof." He placed the tape in Tim's hand, leaving him dumbstruck. "And I really have a hard time believing Jon will corroborate your story, don't you?"

Tim didn't know what to say. "Um... thank you?"

Michael winked at him. "You're welcome." And because he couldn't help himself, he skittered his fingers over his belly. Tim jerked back with a surprised laugh, a blush and a growing look of fear on his face.

"Relax. Like I said, rainy day."

He gave him a small wave and opened a door off to the side and left. Everything melted into his flat, and he was safe in the middle of his living room.

~~~

Jon walked into work the next day as if it were any other, eager to forget the events of last night. He went to the break room for a cup of coffee to start the day and walked in to see Sasha, Martin, and of course, Tim, huddled around a tape recorder. They all wore a look of concern. Well, except for Tim.

"What're you listening to?" he asked. Sasha and Martin jumped out of their skin when they heard his voice, whipping around to meet him. They looked rather guilty, but more concerning, they looked worried.

The next thing he knew, Martin was hugging him.

"I'm sorry, what's-" A voice on the tape interrupts him.

"Joooon, come out come out wherever you are!"

"I-I'm so sorry, we left you here alone, and Tim said Michael got you and-"

"Did he now?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Now Jon, is that any way to speak to your knight in shining armor?"

"Oh please, you're not my bloody knight." He spoke over the sound of his own erratic breathing and feet pounding against hard packed dirt.

"Were you even gonna tell us Michael attacked you?" Sasha asked, brows furrowed with worry. "Because I really doubt it."

Jon floundered for an answer, face going red. "Um- it- look, it really wasn't as serious as Tim undoubtedly made it seem." He glanced up at his smiling face and said, "Would he really be grinning like that if it was?"

Of course, as soon as they looked at him, he schooled his features into a serious expression, but they each caught a glimpse of a fading smirk.

"Okay what's... what's happening right now?" Martin asked, looking between the two.

"You wanna tell them yourself Jon? Or uh, let the tape do the talking for you?" he asked, holding up the tape.

"Shh shh shhhh, would you relax? What part of I don't want to hurt you did you not understand?"

"I don't trust you as far as I can throw you. Now what do you really want?"

Jon refused to meet his friends' gaze as he spoke over his previous conversation. "Look, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me, didn't psychologically scar me, the only thing damaged was my pride."

The tape played on in the background as Jon tried to explain himself. Michael's endless talk of having fun did nothing to calm Sasha and Martin's nerves for past-Jon. "I-I don't really know why he t- uuh, did what he did, but he seemed almost... friendly isn't exactly the word I'd use, maybe tame? Toned down?" That was about the time Michael mentioned the rest of them, and how they all "played" with Jon. A hesitant smile ghosted over Sasha's lips as she thought she knew what he was hinting at, and judging by Jon's reaction, she might be right, but there was just no way... Was there?

"Jon, did Michael-"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could finish the sentence. "Yeah, he uh, said you all made it look like fun, so he decided to try it out," he said, staring at the faded break room carpet.

"Wait, so it's our fault?" Martin asked, and Jon immediately felt guilty for saying it like that.

"No! God no, you guys are just trying to make me loosen up. Michael's just... morbidly curious."

"Right," Tim agreed, suddenly more serious. "He uh, told me he was waiting for a rainy day. So obviously, he has his sights set on all of us. Which is... unnerving to say the least." He locked eyes with Jon, a soft smile on his face. "So I'm not just doing this to fuck with you. But that is an excellent perk!" Jon couldn't help but chuckle. "But I thought everyone deserved a bit of a heads up. And maybe ease some worry while I'm at it." "Where'd you even get this?" Jon asked, pointing at the recorder just as his own bubbly giggles  started pouring out.

"Michael gave it to me."

"Very funny." When Tim's expression didn't change, his jaw dropped, "You're serious."

"Where else would I have gotten it from?"

"Fair point."

A loud shriek followed by shrill cackling and snorts emitted from the tape. All heads snapped over to look at him with amused grins and fond expressions.

"Right. Well, I lived through this once already. No need to stick around for a second time," he said, cheeks burning from embarrassment. He paused in the door. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Not likely."

"Nope!"

"Absolutely not."

He gave a curt nod, lips pursed together. "Thought so."

[nayeonline]

Ari's K-Pop Roundup: March 2024 (ILLIT, ARTMS, CHUNGHA, VCHA + MORE)

Check out last months installment here :) sidenote: sorry about this episode being a bit heavy on the smaller reviews - have been experiencing a cruel and unusual combination of illness and exam season lol - next month will hopefully be slightly better

Magnetic - ILLIT (SUPER REAL ME)

Whether you watched HYBE's 2023 idol survival show 'R U Next?' or you had the self preservation to skip it, if you were into k-pop at that time, you definitely heard about it. The show gained attention from the community originally because it was from HYBE, the newest, and arguably currently the most influential k-pop company goliath, and because HYBE's girl groups (notably Le Sserafim and NewJeans) are famous for influencing the kpop scene instantly upon debut, and maintaining their spots in the top 10s of the charts for many months. This was HYBE giving us a look behind the curtain at the making of the next big girl group, and letting us call a lot of the shots along the way. Or at least that's what it was supposed to be. Rigging in these type of idol shows is practically expected, but HYBE was a new offender, and their crimes weren't only frequent, but pretty obvious. The fans protested, but nothing changed. ILLIT, the group that emerged on the other side, was a group that was hardly a showcase of the talent on display on the show, nor a reflection of the fans and their biases. It was a reflection of who the producers felt fit their pre-established concept for the group, an influencing factor that wasn't made clear to the fans watching, nor potentially, to the idols participating. Ironically, since the whole point of a survival show is to drum up support and build a fanbase for a group's upcoming debut, ILLIT has arguably started off on a worse foot than if they had just dropped 'Magnetic' on YouTube out of nowhere, NewJeans 'Attention' style.

However, regardless of their rocky start, ILLIT is here, with their debut mini album 'SUPER REAL ME', featuring the title track 'Magnetic' - let's talk about it. 'Magnetic' capitalizes on that glitchy, 8-bit, distorted, bedroom pop sound that's been blowing up recently, both in the k-pop industry by NewJeans, LOONA, and tripleS, and in the western space by Pinkpantheress. It's easily catchy, and highly danceable, and the members sound amazing on it - I felt especially drawn to Minju's delivery, her vocal tone is beautifully unique, and Wonhee did a stellar job as the centric member of the choruses. Magnetic's allusions to NewJeans are undeniable, if only lacking that certain NewJeans je ne sais quoi. I don't really have a problem with this, if I get more fun songs out of groups allegedly 'copying' NewJeans then it's a win for me, my only fear is that if ILLIT doesn't find their own niche they will be called knock-off NewJeans for the rest of their careers, which isn't fair to the girls. TripleS got accused of something similar back with AAA's 'Generation', but since then they have carved out a space for themselves in the industry, making music and exploring aesthetics others aren't.

As for the b-sides, I was kind of obsessed with 'My World', even though it is functionally an intro; it's such an unexpected earworm. 'Midnight Fiction' is cute, even if I think it needed another hook or layer of production to elevate it more. 'Lucky Girl Syndrome' is slightly better than 'Midnight Fiction', but a bit worse than 'Magnetic'. It's very obvious that the title came before the track, and it bizarrely sounds kind of like 'Sensitive' by Loossemble? The chorus is slightly weak, but I am obsessed with the instrumentation and the production choices - this song sounds nothing like NewJeans, I really hope they draw from this vibe in their future releases.

Overall, a pretty decent debut. You will definitely catch me streaming 'Magnetic' over the next few weeks, whether it will have the longevity to stick around in my playlist for longer remains to be seen. Good luck ILLIT, you've had a rough start in the industry, but it's clear that they have a big career ahead of them, and I for one, am seated.

Pre1: Birth - ARTMS [LOONA] (Dall)

After an iconic run of Haseul and Heejin's solo projects, as well as ODD EYE CIRCLE's first release out of BBC, 5/12 of the LOONA girls are here as ARTMS. 'Birth' is a song that operates outside of the conventions of kpop formulae; its experimental, confrontational, melancholy and bears an undercurrent of rage. Tonally and structurally it is unique from anything being released right now, and lyrically its compelling and mysterious. If this is a taste of what the upcoming album is going to sound like, I am extremely excited.

The music video is one of the best kpop has to offer - its so unlike anything else I have seen. I heavily encourage you all to go check out the theories the orbits/ouriis have been cooking up because LOONA LORE IS BACK!! I am very curious if the loossemble lore will link to this in any way, but that remains to be seen.

EENIE MEENIE - CHUNG HA, feat. HONGJOONG

Chungha is back, with a new company and an old concept. I'm not sure how to feel about this track, its clear she feels very confident in this style and it does suit her more than 'Sparkling', but I think 'Sparkling' was overall a better song. The production of 'Eenie Meenie' is very high quality and I especially loved that guitar layer in the chorus, and bringing Hongjoong in for a verse was a great call, he fits the song and matches Chungha's vibe perfectly. Unfortunately however, I don't find the chorus to be very catchy, which is clearly what the song is banking on in order to chart. The whole 'eenie meenie minie mo' thing is odd, but honestly could have been worse if this song had been given to anyone other than Chungha, the real death sentence for this song was the lack of interesting melody. I'm happy that Chungha is now making the kind of music she wants to, I just hope that the quality of releases go up in the future.

Only One - VCHA

Who knew that when Fifty Fifty crumbled due to their (allegedly) god awful company, it would be VCHA of all groups to successfully pick up the retro girlpop gauntlet?? 'Only One' is genuinely so fun, that post chorus is a killer, and even the mildly awkward writing clears up after the first verse. The girls have such great chemistry, and they are all genuinely improving their skills every comeback, and although I may have questioned JYP's decision to debut girls who had barely been in training, seeing the girls improve in real time is lowkey actually a selling point - like now I want to pay attention to them to see how good they are going to get?? JYP making an intelligent marketing decision?? In this economy?? Congratulations VCHA, you have officially established yourself as a force to be reckoned with, KATSEYE had better bring the heat when they debut to compete with this.

MINI REVIEWS:

Get Goin' - aespa: did you know this song existed? no! Is it surprisingly really fun? well yes! not sure what aespa has to do with fraggle rock, but if it takes Apple TV spamming SM Entertianment's dms to get aespa to release more music, then that's what must be done.

The knight who can't die and the silk cradle - LUCY: (req. by @a-moth-to-the-light) I've always been mildly aware of LUCY, but until my moot requested I review their latest release, I had never heard any of their songs. Needless to say, I was severely impressed. This song is so cinematic and heartfelt - to my knowledge it isn't part of an OST to a particularly cinematic kdrama, but it might as well be. I heavily encourage you all to go watch the mv with subtitles on, or read the translation, because lyrically this is a masterpiece. LUCY, you have officially caught my attention, I will be checking out future releases.

Paths to home - 문채원, HOWUS: The music video for this song, at time of writing, currently has 147 views, I have no clue how I stumbled across it, but I am so glad I did. 'Paths to home' is a beautifully constructed and performed citypop inspired track that to me evokes LOONA's early discography, especially those from Hyunjin's solo project. It is so perfectly constructed to my tastes, I love it to death. I have no idea how 'HOWUS' as a project works, I don't know if it's a group, a company, a subunit, or apparently even when it was released because according to some websites it came out in 2022 (the struggles of extremely nugu kpop cannot be understated), but what I do know is that this song deserves more attention, and I adore it. This is one for the NewJeans, LOONA yyxy, tripleS +(KR)ystal Eyes girlies.

Wish You Hell - WENDY (Red Velvet): SM finally gave Wendy a song that isn't a ballad!!! This song is pretty fun, but I wish it bit more oomph. The lyrics leave much to be desired, but Wendy's vocal performance is naturally very high quality, although I wish she went a bit harder in some sections - she's singing about wishing someone hell, but tonally it sounds like she's serenading them lol. A fun song, could have been better with another few drafts. Seulgi's 'best Red Velvet solo project' crown is yet to slip.

BBB - Purple Kiss: I will never shut the fuck up about how good 'Zombie' is, so seeing them explore similar sounds is so exciting for me!! 'BBB' is a very easy going listen, never awkward, never unpleasant, and although I think it needed a little something more to elevate it, it's a fun song I could easily see myself loving this summer. Swan absolutely ate up this comeback btw.

XXL - YOUNG POSSE: Bizarre sfx aside, I am very glad young posse is attempting to bring back 2000s hip hop into kpop, even if the execution is mildly clunky.