#the silhouette can be a blob if you try hard enough

[worstloki]

what you need to learn is that anyone can drown themselves in clothing

[inyourgravehcs]

♡ You're shining already ♡

❥ TAGS: gn!reader, hurt/comfort.

Warm bed, soft pillow, heavy blanket - an indescribable comfort, enveloping body and soul, beckoning deeper and deeper into itself.

...And unfortunately, all this is spoiled by the fact that it's morning. One has to get up and give up the true peace that's so hard to achieve with today's pace of life. Even the sun, breaking through the treacherously wide windows, clearly hinted with its insolent rise that there was no way back to the sleepy world.

Your head felt as if it was molded of lead, and no matter how you moved it, it seemed that gravity itself was nailing the skull with the back of the head to the pillow. Your eyes stuck together under the unbearable weight of your eyelids, which was impossibly hard to fight, but it was still necessary, because falling asleep again was not an option. Your limp, weak body wanted to curl up under the blanket and stay there for the rest of your life, never to see these absurd days full of boring, repetitive life. And the finishing touch was the annoying drilling in your nose: after all, the low humidity was giving your mucous membranes a hard time.

Uncomfortable. Worst morning of your entire life. Even if you had it worse, now it made you feel like a withered twig instead of a full human being, and that pissed you off far more than any possible misfortune that could befall you. You didn't even have the energy to turn around, let alone get out of bed and start the day. Gathering all your will into a fist, you roll over onto your other side with the last of your strength, bumping into something.

Your vision focuses slowly, gradually. The pale flesh tone gradually draws out into indistinct reliefs, then making up a vague blob of muscle. The blurred outlines make up the silhouette of a man's back, and as you look up higher, you come to the conclusion - that silver hair belonged to Al-Haitham. That's right. You're completely oblivious to the pain, not even paying attention to the fact that you weren't alone in the bed the whole time. Your boyfriend was probably still asleep, though.

Deep breath. Maybe if you snuggled up against his broad back, the discomfort would fade into the background and you could fall asleep. Maybe he could be a better pillow than the one already wrinkled and warmed up under your head. Your fingers move awkwardly across the sheet, moving to your lover's side — and then your arm slips over his waist as you nuzzle your face between his shoulder blades and mumble unintelligibly to yourself. Even if the discomfort didn't recede, at least you could find comfort in the warmth of your lover's body.

“Are you awake already?”

The low voice with the slight hoarse notes instantly stirred the thoughts inside your head. So Al-Haitham had recently woken up as well, but he didn't want to leave the comfort of your bed? In response to his question, you only whine unintelligibly, thus expressing your genuine and sincere displeasure with this morning.

The man sighs deeply, and then falls silent, as if in thought. He slowly turns over to face you, trying not to drop your hand in the process. Al-Haitham scrutinizes your face, paying particular attention to your eyes. Your eyelids tingle and sting, but you keep them open as best you can, reciprocating your lover's gaze — so familiar, the intense stare of turquoise eyes, the red flecks which only emphasized the man's seriousness.

“I understand you.”

Suddenly, one of his strong arms is wrapped around your waist, pulling you to him and pressing your body against his while your flushed face finds itself pressed into Haitham's chest.

It’s soft. His relaxed chest hugs your face like a pillow, supporting not only your head, but your soul.

It’s warm. The restrained heat of the human body emanates from the man's skin, soothing and lulling even better than a blanket.

It’s tight. You're pressed by his hand against the supple contours of his muscles with enough force to feel their every curve, but not enough to feel the strain or discomfort of it — a perfect support for your tired bones and limbs, many times better than even the best mattress.

Right. Al-Haitham was just like you — he knew the value of starting the morning on the wrong foot and was smart enough not to make that mistake and not to let you make it. What was the point of rushing off somewhere? He could afford to put all his worries on the back burner, which meant you could too.

You sigh this time, diving deeper into the man's chest and finally closing your eyes. Even if you can't fall asleep again, it's better to rest in the arms of your beloved than to toss and turn in bed, hoping it will get better.

A big hand patting you on the back only confirms this argument.

♡ ── ✦ ──『♡』── ✦ ── ♡

Please note that english isn't my native language and can be awkward at times.

Please don't translate or repost my works without asking for my permission first!

[biceratops7]

Good omens leak talk under cut, literally just vivid descriptions, keep away unless you’ve seen it and it’s too late:

Ok I have literally been staring at that image periodically whenever I think about it for several days. Because I am normal and like things neurotypically. So here’s literally just a big list of observations no matter how minute. If you read this whole thing then the brain worms have made it to your prefrontal cortex.

Crowley has his glasses on (already explained my theory behind that)

Crowley is obviously the instigator but it’s unclear whether or not Azirphale is currently an active participant, or if he’s still processing. I’m leaning on still processing, but it’s hard to tell with the shadow on his brow obscuring his expression and not being able to see his hands

Speaking of that shadow, what the hell is up with the lighting in this scene?? It’s not bad except for making things in an already blurry still unclear, it’s just strange to have something softly back lit but also clearing having another additional light source else where. It’s an interesting choice because it can lead to inference of the circumstances here.

Second, related question: where the hell are they?? So let’s just take stock of everything BUT Azirphale and Crowley we see here. First of all it’s mostly in shadow, however there is a prominent light source behind Aziraphale, possibly close to him. The light we see on Crowley’s hair is likely from the doorway behind them.

Quick detour, the doorway is the brightest thing in the frame, creating a slight silhouette effect. Silhouettes are often used in film for moments that are a big deal but visually obvious. It shows weight through simplicity because you still know what’s happening and why it’s important with way less visual info than normal. We all IMMEDIATELY recognized what was happening and lost our shits even though it’s in shadow and currently obscured by giant text.

Ok so anyway this all leads me to believe they’re in a mostly dark room with one bright but not very far reaching light. I wanna say it’s almost fluorescent? Or an exposed lightbulb? It certainly doesn’t look warm like a lamp to me.

In addition I believe they’re inside a room to a larger building. The light coming from the door is almost certainly NOT day light. It’s purely white as if it’s a very well lit room or hall. There also is what I think looks like an exit sign near the top next to the doorway, or at least idk what else it could be. Because of that I don’t think this is anyone’s home or small shop.

I find this EXTREMELY interesting because the only prominent location we really see fit that vibe or description is the office building of heaven and hell. This season seems to be particularly highlighting that “neutral ground” between then, with the elevator showing up three times.

Now this one is just me trying to interpret literal blobs, but there either appears to be some sort of rounded extension to the top of the door way, or the walls are just thick. Make of that what you will

the room appears relatively spacious but mostly bare, almost like a holding place. But obviously with such a tight frame this can be hard to tell. I did take note of the fact that you can see some brown lines behind Aziraphale in the first frame, so there is clearly something there.

Alright enough waxing poetry about the damn walls, I know that they're probably standing up. Crowley might be in a position where he can twist into it from a sitting position, but with Aziraphale' shoulders so far forward and his back entirely angled to face Crowley, he'd either have to be straddling a chair or his lower spine is snapping like a glowstick.

Aziraphale is not being pushed against anything, he’s rocking backwards despite the force being applied to pull him forward, so in other words our boy Crowley’s REALLY shooting his shot, lmao

Aziraphale’s arms are confusing. They’re clearly not holding onto Crowley even out of frame, but they also don’t seem fully relaxed at his sides to me either.

WAIT, ok so the standing is still a strong contender, but they could also be sitting across from eachother at a small table. Crowley seems hunched over a bit more than is warranted for Aziraphale’s height, and Aziraphale’s arms could propped up at the elbows supporting his weight.

So damnit this adds a whole new layer to the location question

[introjis]

Thanks for answering. I’m new to art so I didn’t know the difference between base and reference. I was thinking they were the same thing

completely understandable with the information that you are new to art overall(which I did not know until this ask)! if you want to trace and use anything as a base in non-reference or redraw ways the general rule is to NEVER use/post it online: or show other people and claim it as your own art (or not outright state the disclaimer pointing to the origins of the it , as that would imply you did all of it by yourself(which would be a lie)

using your own past works that you made is still all your own and thus very easy to claim as your own art and there's no bad moral of "I stole someone's hours of art and put the finished artwork from all those hours and energy and emotion into an ai and am claiming the end results of the ai version as mine" or "I traced art and am now claiming it as mine" or "I stole art and poorly discolored it as much as changing this custom creature character to have orange eyes instead of pink so now it is my character I am posting everywhere" that you see posted about at times (especially on da and pintrest- though pintrest USUALLY has people who call out every one of these folks)

redrawing and/or referencing something is ENTIRELY okay(and is the MAIN implied purpose of bases as far as we are aware)- however we've seen so many "bases" that are not "your character here (ych for short)" traced and just vaguely drawn over instead of no efforts to learn or make their own tracing is the first thing our mind connects it with as that has been the most common use we've EVER seen them be used for.

tracing various artworks to speed up learning your own art style and what works for you when not tracing is ALSO okay (and we do NOT fault anyone who does this)- the issue is POSTING traced art or claiming said traced art as entirely yours.

We've traced art to mimic a style some of our favorite medias had before because we consumed so much littlest pet shop a lot of us were REALLY bad at figuring out our style ENTIRELY until middle school during our two year long splatoon hyper fixation- didn't have a sense of our art styles until high school still but improvements happen through evolution and knowledge!

I'd recommend since you're new to art just try some simple stuff- the basics as well as some art exorcises- like turning blobs of shapes into characters/creatures you can see the simplified silhouettes of in the color blobs, consume your favorite artist's works long enough and you WILL find a way to draw SOMETHING like their art- not EXACTLY but pretty close with enough time, draw splatters! and yes I mean like the "splat of paint on the ground" or "threw a paintbrush full of paint at a wall"- an old art teacher of ours had us do this just as a "draw before you really draw"

you are new to art at an amazing time to be new to art: there are so so many tutorials (speedpaints are an ENTIRELY different thing in case you are unaware) that give you so much more leeway and opportunity to make things yourself and your own using what they are telling your through the tutorials compared to the "how to draw" books we had to attempt(and failed) to learn to draw various things from.

(also DEEP apologies this is a long and rambly post, we try to make things easy to read but it is VERY HARD without a friend reading this before post to tell us what should be removed- since this all pretty much explains the "artist edict" and the basics of advice without trying possibly sounding like we're enforcing some sort of "there is only one way to do art!!" that some artists have come across doing at times, so we are unlikely to shorten this anytime soon)

[drizzileiscool]

I read some of the book and learned some pretty.. interesting things about myself.

apparently, I can get out of this body if I just try hard enough....

well, here goes nothing I guess!

HEY DUDES (gender neutral) CHECK THIS SHIT OUT!

..

[ID: A video of a shiny drizzile in a hotel room. its eyes start to look more and more glitchy as the video progresses. Suddenly, a static-y white... thing... comes out of the drizzile. the drizzile is now no longer shiny, and appears to be asleep. Suddenly, the drizzile starts to wake up, and the static blob known as "Azure" transforms into a purple, glitchy silhouette of a drizzile. lampent noises can be heard throughout the video behind the camera. End ID]

H̸̞̓Ȍ̶͖L̸̲̿Ÿ̶̥́ ̴͓̃Ș̵͂H̶̟̀I̴̱͒T̴͖̈́ ̶̤͘I̷̦̔Ţ̷͝ ̸̧͗Ẃ̶̟Ȯ̴̡R̷̒��K̵̭͛E̵̫̋D̸͇̔!̶̯̂!̵͙̎

<HOLY SHIT IT WORKED!!>

O̶H̵ ̸C̵R̸A̶P̴ ̷I̵ ̷T̶H̴I̷N̵K̴ ̶T̵H̵E̸ ̶D̸R̶I̷Z̸Z̷I̴L̵E̵ ̸I̸S̷ ̷W̷A̶K̶I̵N̷G̶ ̸U̶P̴

<OH CRAP I THINK THE DRIZZILE IS WAKING UP>

uhhh.. whaat happend to me... what did those people do?

a-azure? are you ok? wait... azure mentioned that they were a missingno, which means azure is...

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON? WHO'S AZURE? WHY IS THERE A LAMPENT HERE?

AND WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A PURPLE BLOB THINGY????

uhh... ahhhh.....

*crying*

I̶'̵L̶L̶ ̶E̸X̶P̵L̸A̸I̶N̴ ̴L̴A̵T̸E̷R̵ ̸J̴U̷S̴T̶ ̵S̸T̸O̵P̴ ̸Y̶E̷L̵L̸I̶N̴G̶!̴ ̵Y̵O̵U̷'̷R̷E̸ ̸S̸C̸A̴R̸I̸N̸G̶ ̶H̷E̴R̵!̶

<I'LL EXPLAIN LATER JUST STOP YELLING! YOU'RE SCARING HER!>

[axlestuck]

I am curious, how do you do your ministrifes? I was wondering if you had a tutorial or anything because I absolutely love how you do them and I wanna learn!

I'm sorry this took over a month! I've been away from home, and busy, and struggling with other issues. But I have been working on it and I am finally delivering it to you now today!

This is going to be very long, so I placed it under a cut with image descriptions within the post text for clarity.

First of all, for any type of sprite- it's extremely helpful to know pixel art basics. There's tons of tutorials online and on YouTube if you go looking for them! You don't need to know everything, though. The things I'd personally recommend learning about are jaggies, doing curves, and conserving colors.

However, I also encourage you to just jump in and see what works for you! There's no wrong way to do pixel art, or any kind of art for that matter, and making something imperfect is still better than making nothing.

Anything with a pixel brush will work as a program. Some free pixel art oriented programs you can use are Piskel and Libresprite. If you don't mind paying, I've heard good things about Asesprite. Personally, I use Paint Tool Sai 2. You can also just use MS Paint, especially with the layers add on that was released recently.

Here's some process descriptions for both original sprites and swap edits.

Character swap edits:

Using an indigo Dave and Dirk I did for a request as an example, but much of them are made in the same way as this.

[ID: Two process images of Dave and Dirk's home stuck mini strife sprites being turned into indigo blooded trolls. Both characters' original sprites appear, followed by a recolored version with blue lineart, skin, and symbol, and with black hair. Dave has horns and Dirk has sea dweller fins but no horns. End ID]

I start with color correction and adding easy troll features. I pull skin and lineart tones from other sprites and adjust for any value differences. I often use a lighter color for indigo trolls because the base tone gives me eyestrain. Dave's horns got pulled from a different sprite as a base, but this was the first troll Dirk I did so I did his horns with his hair in the next section.

[ID: The first two sprites in these images are Dave and Dirk being given different outfits. Dave has a dress outlined over him and then colored in to be a light blue. Dirk's shirt is lengthened and turned white while his pants are turned blue. Both of them have troll signs.

The second two have Dave with a pony tail and larger horns. Dirk is given horns that curl in as well as thicker hair. End ID]

I outline an outfit before coloring it in if I'm making significant changes. If I'm not I just move parts around with selection and move tools. The signs always look a little funny on such a tiny scale.

For the hair, I try to keep something of the original silhouette while changing it enough to be distinct. It's a hard balance to strike. Usually there's a lot of minor tweaks and adjustments, especially if I'm changing the entire hairstyle like I have before.

If I'm changing existing horns I do about the same thing I do with the hair. For creating new horns, I mostly blob out a shape and tweak it till I'm satisfied.

[ID: Both finished sprites of Dave and Dirk. Dave and Dirk have both been given blue glasses. End ID]

Final touches, which can include color alterations or changes to small accessories or additions of new accessories entirely.

The intent behind my swaps specifically are to communicate an altered personality from the original, while still keeping the character recognizable enough. It's a hard balance to strike and some sprites are more successful than others. Best of luck if you try to do swaps of your own :)

--

Completely original sprites:

For this, I'm going to walk you through two character sprites I've made recently. This is more complicated than the other one, so it'll be longer.

These ones are for a fantroll I posted recently (Citral Mimali), and a fan kid request between Jade and Karkat (Kari Harley-Vantas).

[ID: Two process images of Home stuck mini strife sprites being made. The first image, of a character named Citral, starts with several abstract blocks of color and the second image, of a character named Kari, starts with a loose sketch. End ID]

For these sprites, I started them in two distinct ways- with blobbing out abstract colors and a sketch. Abstract colors can be helpful for keeping a lot of parts distinct from each other, while sketching is helpful for having a decent idea of what the finished product looks like from the get go. Other options include shrinking down a pre-made sketch and drawing over it, and just winging it.

(Post making Citral's sprite, and far too late to correct, I realize I didn't do the abstract color method correctly. You want to block out everything at once usually with the colors you'll be using in the finished product. But I'll keep it in anyway, because the method I did might still be helpful to someone. It's not normally what I do so I wasn't super experienced with doing it.)

When making a pose for a sprite, you want to make sure you center the character's personality first and foremost. For Citral, I wanted to make it look like she was smirking, almost jeering at someone else, while Kari is supposed to look confident and friendly. The silhouette matters a lot too, you want to be thinking about how the future parts you'll add will interact with the pose.

I also usually start with having other sprites on the canvas both for size reference and pose inspiration. I sprite the head first, it helps me lay out the proportion for the rest of the sprite. You can see I change the arms in both poses- I never get the arms right the first time.

In my non-Homestuck ministrife sprites I often play with the proportions and style a lot. I'd recommend it! It's fun and expands your sprite capabilities. You absolutely don't need to feel held to a specific style.

[ID: Two images of process sprites. The first is of Citral. It starts out with a bright purple hair outline into a finished hair sprite, two long pig tails. The second is of Kari. It has a couple vague shapes into a ponytail with a hairband and small horns. End ID]

For me, the hair always takes the longest. Citral's hair was more complicated, as it interacts with her silhouette more, so I had different processes for both of them.

For Citral, I started with a sketch outline then blocked it out into colors. I took the right pigtail, flipped, rotated, and tweaked it to save myself the work of doing it twice and keep the hair consistent. Doing a hairline is easy- you follow around the outline of the head further down.

I was making up Kari's design as I spirited her, so her hair started out with shapes that I enjoyed the look of and I expanded from there. Her horns and hairband were added as I made her hair as they don't change the silhouette.

[ID: Four process sprites of Citral showing the creation of the character's horns. It starts with a vague shape and is refined into a complete horn, then copied and flipped to create the other horn. End ID]

Horns are done in much the same way as hair, but smaller, and easily flippable. Blocked them out, refined them, colored em in, took one and flipped it to the other side.

I forgot to do so immediately, but you want to make sure with horns you're taking the tilt of the head into account. Her right horn should be one pixel lower than her left one. Blending them into the hair can make a big difference too.

[ID: Two process images. The first is of Citral and has four sprites showing the character being colored in with a skin tone, being given facial details and a pin in her hair, an outfit outline, and a colored in dress. The second shows a mostly finished sprite of Kari with an offwhite skin tone, gray shirt, and black pants. End ID]

Here's where I started focusing on the body and outfit of the sprites. I colored them both in with their respective skin tones and added other details like Kari's glasses and Citral's freckles, hair pin, and makeup.

Citral's outfit got an outline first because it broke her existing silhouette, but Kari's outfit was done in one go because it was just adding some inner outlines and colors. Citral's dress is colored in a lighter outline because it's darker than her outline color. Usually ministrifes use the outline color as black, as you can see with Kari's pants, but using a lighter outline keeps darker colors distinct, and using the outline color would have made Citral's sprite muddy.

Make sure clothes look like they're wrapping around the body- adding slight curves to the necklines or the bottom of a skirt or shirt can make it blend much more.

[ID: Three sprites of Citral showing her dress being finished, given three necklaces, and the legs and shoes being colored in. End ID]

Coloring the rest in, and adding small details. The sign never looks perfect, it just needs to be vaguely comprehensible.

A word of caution: don't make your sprites too detailed. These are tiny- less than 100x100 pixels. Putting too much detail in will make your sprites read as noisy or muddy, especially if you use a lot of colors.

[ID: Two images. The first is of Citral and has two sprites, one having an outline of a tail and the other one having it colored in along with many other touchups. The second image is of Kari's finished sprite with an alien on her shirt and gray shoes. End ID]

I remembered Citral's tail last. But I did remember it! You may notice I made her ponytails darker in this so her tail is visible.

Kari's final sprite is not much different from her last one- I added her symbol, an alien ship, and made her shoes gray, and touched up the body some. This sprite actually differs slightly from the ones I've posted as I've edited her sprites slightly more afterward.

After you're done you want to probably look at it a couple times the day or so after, to catch all of the little things you won't have noticed while making the sprites- this is when a lot of little tweaks happen, like all of the little changes on Citral's final sprite (blending and moving her horn, adding her hairline, lengthening her sleeve, etc) or Kari's body pose changes.

For me I do ministrife sprites because they're a lot of fun to use for simplifying design exercises and to communicate personality in posing where a normal full-styled panel sprite won't. Plus they're so small that I find them nice and easy to work on compared to a full sprite. Of course, the absolute top thing to do is to have fun with it :)

That's all I've got for now, but if anyone has any more specific questions please don't hesitate to let me know!

[dreadfulsanity]

Of Archdemons, Evanuris and Old Gods

Sometimes I'm rather... slow. Okay. That's nothing new, and I mostly accepted that my brain isn't as... flexible as it used to be. Why it's bothering me now? Well, let me tell you. Grab a seat, have a beverage and listen to my tale. Well, less of a tale and more of thoughts I'm trying to put into a somewhat coherent format.

There is this theory floating around in the Dragon Age sphere. It involves this particular mural. And it roughly goes as follows:

The black space with the golden triangles is the sky.

The large half-circle represents the Fade, and within Black City. If you look long enough, you can see the silhouettes of buildings in the background.

The smaller circle in the middle stands for the Evanuris (14 eyes = 7 Evanuris).

The dotted line around the half-circle stands for the Veil.

And the blobs surrounding it stand for the Archdemons. Four grey blobs for the Archdemons that have been slain so far, three golden blobs for those that haven't.

"But we have already slain five Archdemons," I hear you saying. Yes, that's right. One explanation for this is that Urthemiel's soul/essence can be saved by doing the Dark Ritual. Another one is that the mural was created before the fifth blight. Whatever it is, in the theory, the Archdemons function as seals, locking the Evanuris away.

And here we come to the part were my brain had an issue with it. How would slaying something on this plane of existence have an effect in the Fade? Other than sending a soul/spirit/whatsoever into the Fade. Now I have played through Dragon Age: Origins so many times now that I lost count (646h on record, not counted the runs I did with the box version before I had Origins). And I never thought 'Hm, isn't it weird that there is a beam shooting up to the high heavens when the Archdemon is slain?'

But then it dawned on me. While I was trying to fall asleep. It's always when you're trying to sleep that your brain goes into overdrive. Or when you're on the potty. I wonder what breakthroughs we could have if we tried to fall asleep while taking... I digress. I mean, why would a beam shoot up to the high heavens when slaying an Archdemons? What reasons could there be for that to happen?

And I looked up and saw The seven gates of the Black City shatter, And darkness cloaked both realms.

Canticle of Exaltations

Seven gates to the Black City. Seven seals to lock them shut. And why wouldn't they be on Thedas, in the waking world? I mean, you want those seals to be as hard to reach as possible, right? Especially for those you sealed away. No one has a lock on the inside. Though since all the Evanuris are depicted bald, maybe they wouldn't have hairpins to pick locks with.

We do not know when exactly Solas created the Veil, but it is said that humans don't know a world without it, so we can assume it was before -3100 Ancient. 300 years later, in -2800 Ancient, the "Old Gods" whisper to human Dreamers from Arla... the Golden/Black City, and taught them magic. "Why would the Evanuris teach humans magic," I hear you asking. Because they want out. They don't like being locked away in a corrupted city. So they start to plan a jail-break. And for beings that are immortal, time is irrelevant. I'm sure, when you're immortal, you've learned to be very patient. What are a couple hundred years? Even two millennia?

Which brings us to -395 Ancient, when—according to the Chantry—the most powerful magister lords try to breach the Golden/Black City. While we do know that magisters went into the Fade to breach the Golden City, I don't buy the part where they are cast out by the Maker, and the city turns black. It was already black long before Corypheus and his cohorts tried to pry open the gates. But opening the gates did not work, thanks to the seven seals. And so the magisters are repelled, cast back into the waking world, but now tainted.

Through the taint the Evanuris now create a link between tainted creatures. And what is it that drives every single darkspawn out there? Finding the Archdemon. Corrupting it. And what does the corrupted Archdemon? Attack the waking world, causing death and destruction, and is ultimately killed by the inhabitants of Thedas. One less seal to worry about. And the death and destruction does another thing. I mean, even if all seven seals are destroyed, there is still the matter of the Veil. And we know that areas that have seen a great many battles have a weakened Veil. Therefore, conflict and strife weakens the Veil.

Yes, the Evanuris play the long game here. But they have nothing but time. I just wonder what the taint did to them in all those years. I wouldn't be surprised if they'd lost all their marbles. Can't wait to find out. Because of one thing I am sure. The Veil comes down. Oh, that reminds me...

I'll repeat the image from the beginning, so you don't have to scroll so far. There is some interesting imagery that's coming up again and again.

I want to direct your attention to the half circle containing the Veil, the city and the Evanuris. 

Is is repeated in the fresco of the 2020 trailer, where the Dread Wolf breaks through the barrier. Oh, and...

What's that at the bottom of the map that came with Tevinter Nights?

So, I think there's a barrier around the Black City to keep the taint and the Evanuris in, sealed by whatever the Archdemons are before they become corrupted dragons. And the Veil creates another barrier for good measure. And it's all come crashing down soon. We're in for some shit, and I'm so excited. I said what I've said.

And now I need to stop because my imagination is running rampant and we're going from "theories I at least try to back up" to "wild guesses". If you've read this far, thank you so much, I really appreciate you. If you want more of what's going through my head at any given time, follow me on Mastodon. It's where I post most of my ramblings. I'll read you guys later. Byyyyeeeee! 💋

[reeama-the-mage]

Hello hello a friendly ghost here I'm a collector of spooky tales and urban legends and I was wondering if you would like to share one with me? I hope you are having a great day

I LOVE sharing spooky tales!!!! I will probably share a few, some stuff that I've experienced and then fun stuff I've read online that was neat!!!!

I will start with an urban legend and I am having hard time thinking of ones that not everyone might know about!

The bunny man bridge is a cool one!!!

It's in Virginia I think and supposedly there was like a dude who escaped from somewhere and ran to the woods and while they were trying to find him there were a lot of bunny corpses as he was eating them to survive and stuff, and later the bridge was named after him in local legend because he hung people off it I believe? And it's said he'd do the same to u

I also have some someone told me this happened to them stories! not quite friend of a friend, but mine is a secondhand account

One person claimed that he saw a thing as tall as the trees running as fast as his car and chasing it and it was like silhouette looking and it was one of the only things that ever scared his aunt out in Montana

Another person I met saw computers turn on in my old school when the room was locked and the lights were off! And people would say the bathrooms were haunted

And I have a few ghost-like encounters of my own

The first one I ever had is a very vivid memory for me! And one I've told tons of times, basically I was walking down my hallway to the kitchen to get water when out of nowhere I see an extremely white blob move from my window into my kitchen never seen anything nearing as white as it ever again except for maybe snow

Another one that's kinda fun is that one time when I was near falling asleep, all my lights on, middle of the night, I hear a man's voice, and it says 'good night', at first I wasn't concerned cause I'm like oh probs just my dad, then I remember it is the middle of the night!! It is early AMs my dad doesn't come to my room this late! and he rarely comes in without knocking! I have heard no footsteps indicating anything leaving my room! I open my eyes, there is no one there! But hey atleast if somethings haunting my house they're nice enough to say good night!

Sometimes as a kid I would have clothes appear in my closet with no idea where they came from, but that mightve just been typical kid forgetfulness or parents putting them in while I was asleep

Last one I'll share in this post might be my most interesting one!!!! One time when it was somewhat late at night, I was wandering around my house recording myself in different places in it, eventually I decide to record myself in front of a painting we have hung up around the house, cause it's framed it has a little bit of glass in front of the actual painting, and obviously glass is reflective, I put the camera up and before I can hit record I notice something in the reflection, a hooded figure almost like how the grim reaper is often described, but with no skeletal face, just dark. by my estimate they wouldve been a few feet away from me, tried to recreate the reflection in the painting next morning but could not, not too long after, but separated by atleast a week I believe, I saw an ambulance across the street at one of the neighbors houses, mightve been a coincidence, but oh boy! Twas a bit freaky!

[m-y-fandoms]

COMMISSION: Joker/Akira/Ren x Reader Part 2

Part 1

This is gonna be many more parts... I can already tell 

Word Count: 2.2k

SFW, SLOW BURN romance friends to lovers, gender neutral reader, anyone can enjoy it and place themselves as the reader!

- Admin Myah

You spent your entire free period up on that roof, hoping by some miracle that you weren’t crazy, that the group of second-year students that had seemingly vanished before your eyes were in fact pranking you, and upon seeing that you weren’t amused, would get tired of hiding and pop out, finishing the surprise. No such luck, however, and so you left, the second-period bell forcing your hand. Spending the first period of your day - a bit of free time meant for studying, finishing homework, or otherwise enriching yourself educationally - up on the roof and unaccounted for by any teachers was a bit risky already, and you were a decent enough student. There was no way you could just sit there all day, skipping the rest of your classes. Sighing, you resolved to just give up the hunt for your destined main character and by extension the group of potential new friends.

＊

Often after school, you headed to the library, which stayed open along with a select few other areas of Shujin for student use after the last bell rang. Today, however, you felt drawn back to that place, back to that rooftop where you’d seen Akira, Ryuji, and Ann disappear hours earlier. It just wasn’t sitting right with you; you felt a stirring in your soul, like a tiny voice in your head, a shimmering blue butterfly in your stomach. Lucky for you, the rooftop was also open, though you’d never really spent time there. Certain students, including another third-year you admired raised plants up there where the sun could reach them, while others simply came up there for the view or the breeze, some private space to study.

Today, the breeze was indeed blowing, and you sat there writing as it whistled past your ears, polishing up some plot points, scrawling down ideas for your protagonist straight from the imagination, since it seemed you wouldn’t be finding any real-life inspiration anytime soon. It was frustrating, writer’s block, and for the past month or so, it’s all you could do to write a single paragraph. You always found yourself lost in the pages of the novels you loved, and you could identify great writing, appreciate the artistry of another writer, but it was sometimes so hard to put your own thoughts down on the pages of your journal. Why was it so hard? You knew what real romance was. You knew which themes and cliches were overdone and unrealistic. You had a mature and healthy outlook on real relationships and could pick apart the stereotypical female protagonist who was strong and independent until she met the man who would break down her walls or the toxic bad boy who women loved on paper but would cry their eyes out over in real life. You’d read thousands of books and fan-fiction, listened to hundreds of audiobooks, watched tons of romance movies, so why, lately, was it not clicking?! Where was the disconnect between having thoughts and transcribing said thoughts down into your very own masterpiece? Fantasy came so easily to you, sci-fi, non-fiction essays for class, mysteries, research papers, but romance, the genre you loved the most, seemed to purposely elude you.

You were shaken out of your frazzled state when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Shaking your head a bit to try and focus your vision, you looked over your shoulder to see that the black spot on the fringe of your blind spot was in fact actually there. You rubbed your eyes just to be sure, but there it was, a wavering black inky spot hovering in the air. Another appeared, then another, now red in color. You were beginning to feel insane for the second time that day, but rather safe than sorry, you quickly stood, shoving your work and pencils into your bag and shuffling away from the blobs, which were now oscillating and dancing around each other, phasing in and out of existence like a fisheye lens. This was a bit too freaky for your liking, and you were beginning to feel a frightening chill up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you elected to put some kind of barrier of safety between yourself and the floating bubbles. Like any rational person, your mind was screaming “unknown situation: possible threat: run!” but again, that little butterfly in the pit of your guts was saying there was something worth staying for. So, running to the door to the roof, you swung it open, a ringing in your ear starting to buzz and chime. You closed it frantically, pressing your nose up against the small glass windows that allowed a limited view of the roof. A small gasp escaped your lips, and you instinctively grabbed onto your bag a bit tighter.

The red and black splotches began to dissipate and fade like some kind of glitch in reality, and three figures appeared like mist, like ghosts before beginning to solidify and slowly become tangible silhouettes. Then, as if some kind of magic ritual was coming to a close, the figures poofed into existence, and your brain processed the scene before you.

“Holy shit…” you whispered. There, clear as day were Sakamoto, Takamaki, and the new kid. They were just standing adjusting their clothes, stretching their arms and legs, situating their personal items. It was just then that you saw a little furry head poke up out of Akira’s school bag. Your harsh, analytical gaze softened a bit upon seeing the small black cat that appeared. Had he been carrying that cat around all day? Surely not, right? How would he keep it quiet and still? “What the…?” The inquisitive glare returned to your features when they began… speaking to the cat. It wasn’t the cute baby talk people often use with their pets, either. It was a full-on, serious conversation, and the cat was meowing back, clearly, in response to their statements.

It was a bit muffled by the thick door, but you could make out bits and pieces.

 Metaverse? Palace. Shadows... treasure? Kamoshida? Great, that asshole, but what could he have to do with this? What even was this? 

You were questioning everything you knew. You were wondering if the juice you had this morning at breakfast was spiked. There was no winning in this scenario, either you were crazy, or these kids were. You looked downward, contemplating your navel as your mind tried to make sense of the events of today. You glanced up again, trying to eavesdrop a little better, get some more detail. You took a step closer, trying to will the sound of their voices through the door to be just a little louder, just a little clearer, when Sakamoto suddenly pivoted, stretching and cracking his spine with a sigh.

“Gah!”  You shouted out. His eyes met yours through the window and widened like a kid caught in the cookie jar. You jumped with a start, taking a cautionary step back and nearly tumbling down the stairs. It was a miracle you caught yourself in time, but your little outburst had definitely caught the attention of the group. Your cover was thoroughly blown. “Oh, no…” You cursed under your breath, spotting both Ann and Akira’s eyes on you now as well.

“Shit! Do you think they saw?” Ryuji’s hands flew to his hair, mussing and working out his frustrations on the dyed strands while simultaneously, Akira was already in motion, rushing toward the door to apprehend the unwelcome listener.

Your heartbeat sped up, and like a gazelle spotted by a lion, a fire was lit under you and you began to sprint, clumsily fumbling down the stairwell and onto the flat platform where the stairs rotated 90 degrees and continued downward. Inhaling sharply, your foot, nervous and supporting jelly-like legs, missed the final step. Your belongings, along with your body, spilled across the square, flat platform, and the door behind you slammed open.

“Hey!” Akira’s yell echoed through the stairwell, and your thoughts bounced off the walls just like his voice. Scrambling, you scooped only the essentials into your hands: your journal, the phone of course, a few homework binders, ditching the easily replaceable items like chewing gum and pencils. Taking to one scraped-up knee and ready to bolt, you felt a hand close upon your bicep and clamp down firmly. “Hey, hey… slow down.” Akira again, now gentler with his tone, spun you around to face him. You stood clutching your things to your chest like a life preserver. “I’m not gonna like… kill you or anything.” A breathy chuckle, and now he was on the platform next to you, scanning you up and down for injuries with his hands in his pockets. “So, uh… so don’t kill yourself by fallin’ down these stairs, huh?” He played off the tense feeling in the air with humor, but the sheer proximity of him, standing there in front of you mere inches away in the cramped space, it was like you could hear your blood pounding in your ears.

What was he thinking right now? Did he think you were some weirdo stalker? I mean, you’d just met him this morning and now you were watching him through a small window like a creep after school… after following him there. Wait, that wasn’t important right now! Was he going to kill you? He didn’t seem like the type of guy to do that, but then again, he didn’t seem like the type to phase in and out of existence either… neither did Ryuji and Ann… what were people with powers like that capable of?

Right now, you were just going to mind your business, and play it safe. It wasn’t worth getting mixed up with people who warp through a “metaverse” and talk to animals just for some good writing material, not if it turned out to be dangerous.

“Well…” you hesitated, “it’s none of my business, what I just saw, and I won’t tell anyone.” You breathed a little easier, tried to regain your composure, to not look too weak.

“So they did see! Awww, shit!” Ryuji’s head popped through the door, interrupting the uncomfortable conversation, and the hot air of the enclosed space was cut through by a gust of wind from the now open rooftop door.

“Now, just hold on, Ryuji,” Akira held out one hand to placate his rather temperamental friend.

“No, no really it’s fine that you talk to your… cat and just… vanish... and I’m sure it’s all fine and multiverse-y and…”

“Metaverse.” Akira corrected you with a small smile, bending down to pick up the rest of your scattered objects.

“Dude!” Ryuji ran a hand down his face in defeat.

“They saw us, no point in being tight-lipped,” he stood, handing them to you.

“Metaverse… right,” you took them, watching every move he made carefully. “Sorry, I’m… a bit more... eloquent in my writing,” you moved to the side, ready to sneak past and descend the rest of the stairs. Anything to get on with your day and escape this unbelievable situation. Akira shuffled, mirroring you and completely blocking the stairwell. There was something clever about him, something sharp and charismatic. He knew exactly what he was doing, what he wanted to achieve, and he knew how to calmly and smoothly execute his plans, unlike Sakamoto, who was far less… organized.

“Writing…?” He was keeping you locked into this conversation, as gently and amiably as he could, and you were not leaving until he was sure he could trust your word.

“Uh… yeah, that’s why I was up…” your eyes met his, quickly recoiling and looking toward the floor again, “...up on the roof. I was just looking for a quiet place to write.”

“What, uh, what kind of stuff do you write?” Ann had now joined Ryuji at the top of the stairs, leaving you feeling completely caged in. Ann threw Akira - who seemed like the leader of the small band of misfits - a desperate glance, a sort of look that seemed to ask: “Where are you going with this? Are we screwed?”

“It’s… it’s kind of private. It’s just… romance stuff. I don’t know, I do all kinds of different stuff, whatever I’m in the mood for.” Akira nodded, more to his friends than you, something you had a feeling you weren’t supposed to pick up on. He stuck his hand out flat, gesturing toward the rooftop behind you. You took the hint, heading a bit anxiously back up the stairs, Ryuji and Ann making way for you.

“You any good?” Akira followed behind you, and now on the rooftop once again, the cool air felt freeing, less constricting, though his question felt a bit insulting, a bit nosey.

“I don’t know… I’ve been told I am…” The three friends took a seat in areas that seemed very familiar to them, like they’d been up here warping in and out of this realm many times before. Now settled into place, Ann spoke up, obviously as apprehensive as you were:

“Well do you… do you think…?” Her high-pitched voice seemed to be hesitant, not yet confident in her next words, not sure if they were all on the same page.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Akira smirked as if the three had one mind. He turned to you, trying to make eye contact that you vehemently avoided. “How would you feel about helping us out?”

[remmushound]

Curse of the Clan part 59! @selfindulgenz @scentedcandlecryptid

There Michelangelo stood before Krang, the giant blob of a being rearing up with help of the wires that supported his gelatinous flesh as it spilled over in thick folds. Michelangelo stepped as far away from the alien as he could, ruby eyes locked on the yokai and trying his best not to let fear shine in them. But Krang knew better; he knew Michelangelo was afraid. He could taste it. Immediately he started to poke and prod into Michelangelo’s mind, just as he had with Donatello during their lovely stay in the forest.

Michelangelo whined and clutched at his head when a sensation not unlike a needle pierced through it. His legs lost sensation, and his thoughts were scattered like leaves on the wind. His heartbeat was like the drums of war pounding inside of him but that wasn’t the only thing that drowned his senses because there was something else, something evil, something poking around in his head that shouldn’t have been! The feeling was anything but pleasant, but no matter how much Michelangelo squeezed his head to try and force it out, it wouldn’t go away.

The voice was inside the cavern of his skull, vibrating along his brain and making his entire body shake and his vision go dark.

“You’re more resistant than the purple one…” The voice inside Michelangelo’s head said, and there came a cold tingle up Michelangelo’s arm that settled around his throat like a noose. “I wonder if you’ll last as long as he did…”

“You… hurt… my… brother…” The words were hard to force out, as heavy on his tongue as a ten pound weight, but he refused to let them stay.

“And it was fun.” The voice was in his left ear, and then his right. “And it was easy. Because he was soft…”

“You take that BACK!” With Michelangelo’s defiant roar and a swipe of his flaming kusari, the cold force prodding him was knocked back.

Krang was slammed back into his body with a furious snarl, a scowl creeping over his features as he rubbed his head with a fore-tentacle. Michelangelo’s aura was strong, a truthful passion powerful enough to form a force field around the box turtle. Krang laughed.

“Donnie is just as strong as I am!” Michelangelo growled, his eyes glowing gems.

The darkness closed in again, and this time Krang was braced for the power that the orange turtle radiated, and he was able to penetrate it. His grip on Michelangelo’s psyche tightened, and bit by bit he pulled out everything he needed and weaved it to fit his own desire.

Michelangelo and Leonardo were back in that supermarket, running from the Gumbus as it chased them down the aisles. They were seperated from April and they were alone, well alone together at least, and they needed to hide. They spotted a place, and they both dived for it, but… Michelangelo didn't make it.

No, that wasn’t right. Leonardo had grabbed him and pulled him into shelter! Michelangelo was sure he had! Why was he thinking of this anyway? It wasn’t unlike him to blank out, drawn into the spiraling colors of his own mind, but this time it seemed far more misplaced than usual, and the memory was wrong! Why was it wrong? No no no, Leonardo had helped him, not left him to the beast—

Michelangelo fell to his knees as another nightmare forced its way to the front of his mind. Him and Donatello, together behind the bushes watching Todd’s RV before they knew the friendly capybara. Whispering to each other. Todd sneaking up behind them and scaring them near out of their shells, and what Michelangelo should have remembered was both him and Donatello scattering, but what came forth through like a crudely patched pair of jeans was Donatello shoving his little brother to the ground and leaving him there for the apparent ‘Spine Breaking Bandit’ to seize.

“Your mind is strong…” Krang’s voice came with a rush of nausea, “I wonder: Is your body the same?”

Michelangelo throwing a boat, using all the power he could summon. His brothers should have praised him, but instead came their vicious scolds and hurtful words and the insults made Michelangelo drop the boat and—

“Is your love for your brothers…?”

Michelangelo wanted to go on his first solo mission. Instead of supporting him, all three of his brothers surrounded him like cruel silhouettes, laughing and pointing and mocking the bravery that tried to shine. Their words and faces twisted with hatred spiraled in Michelangelo’s mind and let nothing else through.

“...too little…”

“...too weak…”

“...too dumb…”

“...all heart…”

“...no brain…”

“You need to grow up.” The voices of all three brothers melted into one. Michelangelo was crying. His brothers wouldn’t say that, his brothers wouldn’t be mean, his brothers loved him

“Or your father?” Krang taunted further. “Would you still love him…?”

Now this was a memory Michelangelo couldn’t recall. It was a place he knew, Draxum’s lab, but it wasn’t the way it was when he had briefly saw it years ago. It was different, older yet newer at the same time. Shiny and alive and now dancing with fire that swallowed everything in his path. He was helpless, the smoke choking and burning his senses. And he saw someone there, his father Lou Jitsu, grabbing items from Draxum’s shelves and tossing them into the flames to ensure their destruction. Michelangelo started to cry; he was a baby, what else could he have done? He reached out for the man and for a moment Lou Jitsu had looked his way, the eyes soft and kind as Michelangelo knew them to be. Then came the veil of hatred pulled over as the flames swallowed Lou Jitsu and he disappeared, leaving Draxum’s experiments to burn up. All of Draxum’s experiments.

“No…” Michelangelo said; he was on his knees now and dreadfully cold. “No… that… that didn't happen!”

“Didn't it…?”

Did it…? All of Michelangelo’s memories were so twisted, so mixed up, that he couldn’t tell what was true and what was a lie and what had happened and what hadn’t happened. He knew his brothers wouldn’t do that but they did do that, he saw them, they were in his head! In his head… it was all in his head, it was all a game, all a lie, everything. Did his brothers really hate him? Did his father despise him? Did Draxum and April and CJ and everyone else think so lowly of him?! Did they...

Michelangelo was cold. He recognized it now. The stinging bite pierced through his skin, and that was something he knew was a lie. Though the sensations pricked and burned at his mind and body, he wasn’t shivering. He hadn’t been cold in Japan and he certainly wouldn’t be cold here. That was a lie. He remembered Knight’s words, that Krang could only tell lies. Maybe the truth could hurt him?

“You’re lying…” Michelangelo said lowly, and the truth cut worse than a knife through Krang.

“What…?” Krang’s face distorted in recoil.

“Your name isn’t Krang, it’s… Knave. And my brothers don’t hate me either…” Michelangelo stood a little straighter, bringing his burning eyes to meet Knave’s. “Or my friends. They’re taking down your ship right now…”

Michelangelo’s voice carried a storm, an auditory thunder like a lion’s roar! But both quickly realized that it wasn’t just Micelangelo’s voice that had done it as an aftershock hit the mech hard and caught both alien and mutant off guard.

~~~

It was harder to reach Raphael than Leonardo had been anticipating. He entered the mind meld state just as easily as he had in the forest to find Donatello, but finding someone was so much different than actually reaching them. Leonardo could send out as many thoughts as he wanted, but which ones could reach Raphael wasn’t something he could control, especially at such a distance. It was only getting farther and farther away as Raphael raced off to find his friend. The way Cassandra had been tossed, the sound made when Krang’s claws met her flesh. The blood, the scream. He didn't even think a mutant could survive that, let along a human, but he still had to find just in case she was—

Raph!

Raphael stopped, his feet skidding across the asphalt as he looked around. The city was evacuated hours ago, and even if it hadn’t been, he couldn’t think of anyone who would be this far away from the fight that would know him. Was his mind tricking him, or was that strange, turtle-shaped flicker of blue light staring at him?

Raph! The voice said again.

Leonardo! That was Leonardo’s voice! Raphael raced to the blue light he saw and stopped short, the projection transparent and glistening but most assuredly a visage of his brother.

“Wha— Leo? How are you doing that?!”

“There’s no time to explain, I don’t know how long I can hold this!” Leonardo’s image was flickering like a camera glitch, blipping in and out of existence at random, “You need to get to the back of the mech! We think we found a way to shut it down but we need you to—“

Leonardo’s voice and transparent body disappeared. Astral projection. So that was Leonardo’s new power!

“What? Need me to what?” Raphael searched the empty road for anything to complete Leonardo’s urgent request, but there was nothing. If he was going to Raphael for help, then that meant it could only be one thing. “Smash? You need me to smash you out!”

Raphael didn't have his smash jitsu anymore, but he could still try! Maybe being so close to Leonardo would help his little brother to be able to reach him again! Not a thought against his plan came to Raphael’s mind, and he was already on the way back to his brothers’ aid when he remembered why he had been all the way out here to begin with. Cassandra! She was still out there somewhere and he had to find her! He started to go back to his search, then winced and hesitated when he again remembered the desperation in Leonardo’s voice.

He had to choose between his brothers and his best friend and he had minutes, if that, to make the choice. Cassandra or his family, Cassandra or his brothers, his friends his families his—

Was that a truck?! It was! A semi-truck was barreling down toward him blaring a horn louder than any alarm Raphael had ever heard in the lair. Fear and shock froze him to the spot like a deer in headlights as the truck kept coming, and in the driver's seat was a young girl who couldn’t be more older her early twenties, hair pulled back by a bandana and an expression that told of pure, mischievous glee.

“Cass?!” Raphael gawked, and then screamed and raised his hands to cover his face when he realized the impact was imminent. Cassandra had the brakes on just in time, the back of the semi-truck practically lifting up off the road as the tip of its hood just barely brushed against Raphael’s plastron.

Cassandra leaned out of the window, “Get in, big guy! Haven’t got all day!”

“CJ!” Raphael scrambled to climb into the passenger seat, immediately grabbing Cassandra from the drivers seat and turning her around looking for the injuries that he knew he had seen! Cassandra’s clothes were in ruin, the cloth stained crimson, but no matter how Raphael searched he couldn’t find a single injury! “How…?”

“Don’t question a good thing Raphie!” Cassandra said, pushing against Raphael’s plastron to get him to let her go. “Buckle up. We’re going for a ride.”

Raphael strapped himself in. “I didn't know you had a truck driving license!”

“I DON’T!”

With that, Cassabdra sped away down the road.

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Unpopular Opinion /lh /rp

Talking about dSMP character’s heights and sort of their body types? Not in a weird way just in a ‘how I imagine them’ way. Loosely based off of their irl heights, but some of them I don’t know, so it’s mostly guesswork and vibes. Also if you disagree you’re wrong. (Just kidding leave your ideas in the tags/replies)

Obviously this is all roleplay/character stuff. None of it is intended to be weird or to reflect on the irl people! I’m just having fun with headcanons :)

Tommy is 6′3 and very very lanky. This child is not short. Stop drawing him short. He’s taller than Techno. He’s not as tall as Wilbur, but he’s tall. He towers over most people. Emphasis on most because everyone is so tall on this server what the hell? 

Anyway I think the mental image of this super tall kid actively trying to make himself look shorter/smaller is heartbreaking. Like imagine him curled up into a corner trying to make himself as unnoticable as possible in Logsted. Imagine him slouching when living with Techno to try to make himself seem like less of a ‘problem’. Imagine Dream telling him that he’s a ‘big strong man’ and that he shouldn’t need help, he can defend himself, so when he goes back to Tubbo, he tries to make himself look *tiny* as a cry for help. He wants comfort.

But he’s also incedibly skinny. Back in L’manburg and Pogtopia, he developed some muscle from all the fighting. His shoulders broadened out and he looked slightly intimidating. But like most teenage boys, he was still lanky as hell. This only got worse when he was exiled to Logstedshire, with little food (and no drive to eat the food, or get up, or exersise) he became more malnourished and he just looked *small* despite being 6′3. This probably isn’t helped by the constant use of golden apples when he moves in with Techno, which give him energy and strength but no real nutritional value. Techno was just trying to get the kid to eat normally. When he finally stands at his full height, Techno is shocked that he didn’t notice all the slouching.

Anyway Techno is 6′2. He’s taller than a lot of people but not as tall as his brothers. He makes up for this with muscle and strength and a healthy body. Wow, the only healthy person on the server. Amazing. You love to see it. Good for him. He could win in a battle of raw strength against anyone else on the server. He’s quite broad, which makes him look bigger generally.

Wilbur is 6′5 and also he is a stick. Just. Straight up and down stick. Nothing there! He is just a pale sickly stick. This gets worse the further into the timeline you go. When claiming L’manburg and fighting in the war he starts to get insomnia, causing him to look like a corpse half the time. When in Pogtopia, he’s too busy to take care of himself properly, so he only looks worse and worse. His hair is a mess, his skin is far too pale, and he only eats enough to be able to hold his own in a short fight. There’s a reason he doesn’t wear armour or really try to fight at all. He’s subconciously self-destructive, then actively so when he blows the place to the ground. He’s always been too busy for self-care.

Ghostbur is a much more healthy, younger version of Wilbur. I would say he’s ‘water rising’ era Wilbur. The life returned to his body, in a morbid kind of way. He’s still tall but he prefers to make himself seem shorter just to be less threatening.

Phil is 5′11. He has an average build, with slight muscle from the years of playing in hardcore. He’s older, now, but he can still kick your ass. Also, he taught Techno how to fight smart, not hard. He doesn’t need to be super strong because he’s intelligent enough to outwit most people on the server. He has a wordly knowledge that others don’t possess. He also has wings, large and grey, clipped so he could get onto the server (there is a no flying rule after all).

Fundy is... 5′10, just a little shorter than Phil. His fox genes make him smaller, despite his father being 6′5. He’s got a healthy, svelte build. He’s sneaky and light on his feet. In the wars he built up some muscle, but it was quickly lost since he prefers to take a backseat to any fighting outside of those times (especially now) and he’s built for spying.

Schlatt is an interesting one because a lot of people are gonna fight me on this, but he’s not actually old. Everyone calls him old but honestly I think he’s younger than Wilbur (in canon, I feel like Wilbur is in his late 30s, early 40s, simply because). I think Schlatt’s around 35-ish, but he looks older due to his shitty health. People call him an old man either to demean him or because they see his actions and appearance and go ‘yeah, this guy is old’. Which is fair enough, because irl Schlatt and c!Schlatt both act like they’re from the 1950s.

This guy looks like shit by the end, but he looks alright at the start. Slicked-back hair, sharp ram horns, golden animalistic eyes. He’s intimidating. And loud. Then everything shifts, right towards the end. He’s frail and deteriorating throughout his short presidency, and by the end of it he’s practically a corpse, just like Wilbur.

He’s 6′3, with broad shoulders and a silhouette that seems strong not only because he carries himself as if he can fight, but also because of the percieved power that comes along with it. In reality, Schlatt is a poor fighter, and the abuse he ends up putting his body through (working out excessively to try to fight his condition, and turning to alcoholism as an escape) completely destroys him, making him probably one of the least healthy and weakest people on the server. It doesn’t really show until his death scene, since he’s covered up the deterioration since day one. Basically, mans is dead. 

Glatt, or Ghost Schlatt, or whatever you want to call him, would be a healthier Schlatt. Again, from the ‘water rising’ era. I headcanon him to have longer hair in that era. Not sure why.

Ranboo is the same height as tommy, but is more naturally lithe than made that way by lack of food. His enderman DNA can be blamed for that. He’s healthy most of the time, but may have spirals where he doesn’t take good care of himself (perhaps he forgets) and he looks pretty bad. If he goes a few days without keeping up his self-care routine, he looks a lot worse than he actually is. Sleep tends to be his biggest issue, his mind keeping him awake all night and leaving him looking like shit in the morning. Really, he’s just a kid with a troubled soul, and it shows sometimes. Most days, though, he looks very well put together.

Tubbo. He’s 5′6. He’s more childlike than Tommy, which only makes it worse when he acts in the way he does in season 2. He has burn scars across one side of his body, from his execution, and he is partially blind in one eye because of it. He takes very good care of himself, since he has to look good while being president if he wants those sweet sweet approval ratings. But when he’s super stressed, he will pull all-nighters and forget to eat. He’s got a lot of issues, but his body is very normal and healthy, all things considered. 

Quackity is 5′8. Which is really funny because that’s his actual height. He’s less sharp (?) than a lot of people on the server, but he has some muscle because he’s constantly training to ‘take down Technoblade’ (in reality, it’s a habit he picked up in Schlatt’s era, and never had the heart to drop). He tries his best to stay healthy (again, to better kill Techno) and he’s careful with his life, knowing that it’s his last.

Niki is 5′5. She’s also able to kick so much ass. That is all.

Dream is a bitch and therefore I will not be discussing him. Also he’s a blob or whatever so I guess height is irrelevant. Or maybe he’s a mysterious figure with a mask. Who knows.

No one else is important enough to talk about /j (but really I’m tired so I will stop here). Put your own thoughts in the comments, tags, and rbs. This was all in good fun, so don’t get mad haha.

[stupouid]

Unity (ATLA boys x reader) Chapter 3

returA/N hey guys!! sorry it took so long to get chapter 3! I literally could not find a plot for this chapter, so i decided to skip the desert. 

Chapter 2|Chapter 3

Word count: 3210 words

Chapter 3

The Desert (i am aware that i skipped a lot of episodes I just don’t want it to bee too long)

Traveling with the GAang was interesting. To kill time Aang told Y/N stories of how King Bumi was like as a kid. Y/N was extremely fascinated by these anecdotes, and amazed by how everyone could travel freely throughout the four nations 100 years ago. She wanted to participate in the story-telling too, so she told Aang some of the stories her mother had told her about her travels, and this shocked Aang as well. Soon the two realized that a century ago traveling rules were less strict than they were twenty years ago. 

Everyone in the group was quite fond of Y/N. Katara was grateful to have another girl in the group so she would have someone to rant to whenever Sokka did something disgusting. Aang was grateful to have someone help him locate his next destination, as Sokka and Katara had never been outside of the south pole. And Sokka was grateful that there was someone who would listen to his jokes or agree with his crazy ideas. 

Sokka would be lying if he denied the fact that he was feeling some sort of connection to Y/N. He always wanted to be around her for some reason, and every little thing she did would be engraved in his mind. If Y/N played with her h/c locks, Sokka would save that and think about it when he had nothing else to think about. If Y/N laughed at one of his jokes, he would automatically analyze said joke, and try to make more jokes like that one. If Y/N gave him a compliment on something of his or suggested he do something, he would think about that constantly and change whatever Y/N suggested.

I could say that Y/N felt the same about him, but I would be lying, and fRiEnDs DoN’t LiE. Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about Zuko, and wondering how he was doing. She may have not felt any romantic feelings for him, but that doesn't mean she couldn’t think about her friend. 

Weeks had passed and the GAang had a new member, an earthbender named Toph. Y/N and Toph had hit it right away, their personalities instantly clicking. And the similarities in the ways they were treated when they were younger made them closer, if anything. Toph was treated as a helpless, blind, little girl even though she was an extremely talented earth bender. Y/N’s parents treated her well, but Azula made her feel useless since she had no bending. And after Y/N’s mother died, Y/N’s father had neglected and emotionally abused her. So yeah, the two girls had been through a lot. 

As of right now, the 5 teens were walking through the desert, without Appa because he had been taken by sandbenders for money. As usual, Y/N tuned out of the conversation (more like an argument) that was between Toph and Aang about how Toph let Appa go away. 

“I’m going after Appa,” Aang shouted in a harsh tone. He then flew off with his glider.

“Aang! Wait!” Katara shouted, running to the spot where he took off from. Y/N walked over to KAtara and placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

“We'd better start walking,” Y/N started. “We're the only people who know about the solar eclipse. We have to get that information to Ba Sing Se.” The teens, minus Aang, then started to walk towards the same direction Aang flew off in. 

“You think if we dig out the giant owl, he'll give us a ride?” Sokka questioned. Y/N laughed and punched his shoulder playfully.

-

Sokka, Katara, Toph and Y/N had been walking in the desert for at least an hour now. The sun was scorching hot, and much to Sokka’s delight, Y/N had taken off the top layer of her outfit, leaving her in a tank top that showed off her smooth, s/c, arms. Annoyed by the sun, Y/N took Momo off of Sokka’s back and used his wings to create some shade. Sokka, obviously annoyed because he could’ve done the same, was about to protest when he crashed into Toph. 

“Hey! Can’t you watch where you’re-” Sokka stopped his sentence after realizing what he’d said.

“No.” Toph hissed.

“Right. Sorry!” Sokka replied bashfully. Katara turned around to face the rest of the group.

“Come on guys, we’ve got to stick together!” Katara announced. During the short time Katara spoke, Sokka had accidentally stuck his clothes to Y/N, and was trying to free himself by pushing her away. Luckily for him, Y/N was trying her hardest to help him out too. 

“If Sokka sweats anymore, I don’t think it will be a problem!” Y/N shouted, struggling to get the boy off of her. Toph, who was even more annoyed, pushed Sokka to the ground, separating the two at last. 

“Katara, can I have some water?” Toph asked politely.

“Okay, but we’ve got to try to conserve it.” Katara bended four blobs of water out of her pouch into the mouths of Sokka, Toph, and Momo. When she noticed Y/N wasn’t accepting it, she asked, “Y/N? Don’t you want any?”

Y/N replied with, “I’m fine. Really.” 

“Y/N! You have to drink some! If not you’ll pass out because of dehydration!” Sokka shouted.

“Okay, dad!” Y/N groaned. She accepted the blob of water Katara had bended her way. 

Smacking his lips, Sokka said, “We're drinking your bending water. You used this on the swamp guy! Urch!” Y/N started to laugh, but ended up coughing after registering the taste of the water. Worried, Sokka patted her on the back repeatedly until she wasn’t coughing anymore. 

“It does taste swampy.” Toph giggled. Momo whined at the taste.

“I’m sorry, it’s all we have.” Katara mumbled bashfully.

“Not anymore!” Sokka shouted. “Look!” He walked over to a random cactus plant that was in their path. He cut off a piece and drank the liquid inside.

“Sokka, wait! You shouldn’t be eating strange plants!” Katara shouted with worry, running over to him. Curious, Y/N joined the two siblings. 

“There’s water trapped inside these!” Sokka shouted. He offered some to Y/N, and she took a tiny sip. She instantly felt lighter.

“I don’t know…” Katara started.

“It’s thirst quenching though! If that helps!” Y/N proclaimed. A little juice dribbled onto her chin and Sokka wiped it off. Blushing, Y/N punched Sokka again. He paid no attention to the punch as some sort of trance overtook him.

“Drink cactus juice. It'll quench ya! Nothing's quenchier. It's the quenchiest!” Katara grabbed his drink and poured it away.

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough.” Katara laughed. “Y/N, will you watch him?”

“Sure!” Y/N answered, still laughing. She grabbed Sokka and lockerd their arms together so he wouldn’t get away.

“Hey pretty lady!” Sokka shouted, dragging out the ‘y’ in ‘hey’. “Are we married?”

Still laughing, Y/N replied with, “Sure. We live in Omashu, and we adopted three turtle ducks. One’s named Toph, one’s named Katara, and the last one is named Aang. Sounds nice, right?”

“Anything’s nice as long as I’m with you!” Sokka sang out with a lovestruck expression on his face. He leaned towards Y/N for a kiss, but she only shoved his head away from hers. “Who lit Toph on fire?”

-

“I'm sorry, Aang. I know it's hard for you right now but ... we need to focus on getting out of here.” Aang had recently joined the group again and Katara was trying her best to comfort the airbender. 

“What's the difference? We won't survive without Appa. We all know it.” This surprised Y/N. In the short time she had known the Avatar, he was always positive, no matter the situation. 

“Aang. If we work together, we can find Appa. Stay positive! Right Toph? Katara?” Y/N looked to the girls for affirmation.

“As far as I can feel, we're trapped in a giant bowl of sand pudding. I got nothin'.” Toph sighed. Frustrated, Y/N turned to her last resort.

“Sokka? Care to share any knowledge as to how we could reach Ba Sing Se?” Y/N was standing next to Sokka’s body, which was lying on the sand with Momo right next to him.

“Why don't we ask the circle birds?” Sokka responded nonchalantly. Groaning, Y/N looked at the sky, only to see four buzzard wasps circling above their heads. Katara grabbed her head in annoyance. 

“Ugh ... We're getting out of this desert, and we're going to do it together! Aang, get up. Everybody, hold hands. We can do this. We have to.” Katara grabbed Aang’s hand and Aang grabbed Toph’s. Katara used her other hand to grab Y/N’s and Y/N used all her strength to tug Sokka from the ground. Sokka stood up and placed Momo on his back. 

-

Y/N was sleeping peacefully next to Sokka when she was abruptly woken up by Katara shouting, “Come on, get up! We need to go.” Groaning, Toph, Y/N and Sokka all rose up from the place they decided to rest. 

“Yesterday my mouth tasted like mud. Now it just tastes like sand. I never thought I'd miss the taste of mud so much.” Y/N was going to laugh but she started coughing again, much like last time when Toph had registered the taste of the water. Sokka instinctively patted her back repeatedly while Katara went to wake up Aang.

“I’m awake,” Aang stated. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

Nodding, Katara responded to the boy with, “Well, we need to get moving if we want to get out of this sand pit.” Aang quickly sat up as he noticed a sky-bison like silhouette floating by the moon.

“Appa!” Aang shouted, trying to get it’s attention.

“Appa‌? But why would Princess Yue need him‌? She's the moon! She flies by herself!” Sokka questioned as he grabbed Y/N’s hand, using it to rub his cheek. Y/N smacked him on the head, obviously weirded out. 

“It's just a cloud.” Katara stated sadly, referring to the sky-bison-like object in the sky. “Wait! A cloud! Aang, fly up and bend the water from that cloud into my pouch.” Aang scoffed, obviously annoyed and agitated, but did as the girl said. When he landed on the ground, he threw Katara’s pouch at her. She looked in, only to be disappointed.

“Wow ... there's hardly any in here.” Aang sighed loudly.

“I'm sorry, okay! It's a desert cloud; I did all I could! What's anyone else doing?! What are you doing‌?!” Katara and Y/N were shocked. Aang had never acted like this before. Katara shook her head.

“Trying to keep everyone together. Let's just get moving. We need to head this direction.” The group walked towards the direction Katara had set them up in silence until Toph tripped and fell on her face. Worried, Y/N let go of Sokka and Katara’s hands to check up on the earthbender.

“Ow! Crud! I am so sick of not feeling where I'm going!” Toph shouted, pointing to the rock-like object she tripped on. “And what idiot buried a boat in the middle of the desert‌?”

“A boat?” Y/N asked. Katara ran over to observe the object.

“Believe me, I kicked it hard enough to feel plenty of vibrations.” By now Sokka and Aang had joined the three girls to observe the object. Aang motioned everyone to step back, and used his airbending to get rid of the sand, revealing a boat like contraption.

“It’s a glider! Like the one sandbenders use!” Y/N exclaimed. Sokka clapped his hand onto her back. 

“Look!” Katara shouted. “It's got some kind of compass on it! I bet it can point us out of here! Aang, you can bend a breeze so we can sail it. We're going to make it!”

-

The five teens had squeezed onto the glider, with Katara navigating and Aang driving it using his airbending.

“The needle on this compass doesn't seem to be pointing north according to my charts.” Katara had stated. Y/N was going to sit next to Katara to help her out, but decided not to. Sokka placed himself right next to Y/N, and grabbed her hand. 

“Take it easy little lady. I'm sure the sand folks who built this baby know how to get around here.” Y/N was obviously weirded out, but let Sokka do his thing. She didn’t want to make him angry, because in his current state, it would result in him doing something extremely annoying. 

Katara gasped. “That's what the compass is pointing to! That giant rock! It must be the magnetic center of the desert.” Y/N turned around to look at the rock that Katara was pointing to. 

Obviously ecstatic, Toph shouted, “ A rock‌?! Yes! Let's go!” Y/N just giggled.

“Maybe we can find some water there!” Katara exclaimed with a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Maybe we can find some sandbenders.” Aang snapped. He guided the glider towards the rock. 

-

“Ahhh ... Finally! Solid ground!” Toph cheered as she laid on the rock, creating a rock angel with her bending. When she was finished creating the angel, she stood up and joined the rest of the group, who were exploring a cave with a gooey substance. 

“I think my head is starting to clear out the cactus juice. And look!” Sokka shouted as he dipped his hand in the mysterious substance, earning a groan from Y/N. He licked the substance and offered some to Y/N, who kicked him in the leg in response. 

“You've been hallucinating on cactus juice all day and then you just lick something you find stuck to the wall of a cave‌?!” Y/N ranted. “Spirits, you really are dense.” Frowning, Sokka wiped the goo off his hands and placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. He whispered, “Sorry.” Y/N just nodded in response.

“I don't think this is a normal cave.” Toph stated. “This was carved by something.” 

“Yeah,” Aang agreed. “Look at the shape.”

“There's something buzzing in here. Something that's coming for us!” Toph shouted. The group ran out of the cave. Toph, Aang, and Y/N screamed as a buzzard wasp emerged from the darkness of the cave. Y/N pulled down Aang and Toph as it flew over their heads. 

Another buzzard flew between Toph and Sokka. Toph used her earth bending to launch a rock in the direction of the buzzard, and the rock nearly crushed Sokka.

“What are you doing? That rock almost crushed me!” Sokka shouted. 

“Sorry! I can’t tell where they are in the air!” Toph replied. Another wasp flew in between Sokka and Y/N. Y/N was going to hit it with one of her many throwing knives but Sokka lightly shoved her out of the way. 

“I got this one!” Sokka told her. Y/N was annoyed, but realized that there wasn’t a wasp and Sokka was still hallucinating. Figuring that it would be funny to watch him smack his machete at nothing, she moved out of the way. Sokka then swung his machete at nothing, and Y/N giggled. 

“Sokka, there’s nothing there!” Katara shouted, obviously fed up with him.

“I guess my head’s not as clear as I thought.” Sokka muttered. Y/N grabbed his arm and dragged him down to her level. 

“We have to get out of here!” Katara shouted. “I’m completely out of water to bend!” Y/N nodded, about to move with Sokka trailing behind her, when a buzzard grabbed Momo.

“Momo! I’m not losing anyone else out here!” Aang shrieked. Full of anger, he took off on his glider in hot pursuit of Momo and the wasp.

“Come on, we’re going down.” Katara told the others. Katara held Toph by the hand as they made their way down a narrow ledge. Y/N was about to make her way to the others by herself when Sokka grabbed her hand.

“Hey! You- you shouldn’t go down alone!” Sokka exclaimed. Annoyed, Y/N traversed the wall and landed on the ground with a backflip, while smiling up at Sokka. 

-

“What are you doing in our land with a sandbender sailer? ‌ From the looks of it, you stole it from the Hami tribe.” A sandbender named Sha-Mo asked Katara.

“We found the glider abandoned in the desert. We're traveling with the Avatar. Our bison was stolen and we have to get to Ba Sing Se.” Katara stated. The man’s eyes widened when he learned that Aang was the Avatar. 

“You dare accuse our people of theft while you ride in on a stolen sand sailer‌?!” Another man stated. Toph’s eyes narrowed when she heard the man speak, and Y/N frowned. 

“Quiet, Ghashiun. No one accused our people of anything. If what they say is true, we must give them hospitality.” Sha-Mo stated. 

“Sorry, father.” Ghashiun replied.

“I recognize the son's voice. He's the one that stole Appa.” Toph cautioned. Y/N’s eyes widened, and she looked at Sokka, who looked equally as confused and surprised. 

“Are you sure?” Katara asked. 

“I never forget a voice.” Toph answered. 

Aang charged forwards toward Ghashiun. “You stole Appa! Where is he? ‌What did you do to him?”

“They're lying! They're the thieves!” Ghashiun defended himself. Aang, obviously agitated, he smacked his staff on the ground, and one of the gliders flew off due to his airbending. “Where. Is. My. Bison! You tell me where he is now!”

“What did you do?” Sha-Mo asked Ghashiun.

“I-it wasn’t me!” Ghashiun tried to defend himself.

“You said to put a muzzle on him!” Toph shouted! 

“You muzzled Appa‌?” At this point, Aang was enraged. Sokka, Katara, and Y/N all looked to each other, with fear evident on their faces. Aang’s tattoos then started glowing as he entered the Avatar state. 

“I'm sorry! I didn't know that it belonged to the Avatar!” Ghashiun shouted.

“Tell me where Appa is!” Aang shouted, with the voices of all the Avatars. 

“I traded him! To some merchants! He's probably in Ba Sing Se by now! They were going to sell him there! Please! We'll escort you out of the desert! We'll help however we can!” Wind started swirling around Aang as he started floating in the air. Sokka pulled Y/N as he booked his way out of Aang’s vicinity. They finally found a spot that would keep them safe from Aang’s sandstorm and Sokka wrapped Y/N in a hug to protect her.

“Just get out of here! Run!” Y/N shouted towards the other sandbenders. Aang dropped his staff and the wind formed a sphere around him. As everyone ran away, Katara stayed put near Aang. The sandstorm engulfed the two, and they braced themselves as the whirlwind swooped over them. Katara managed to embrace Aang in a hug, causing him to calm down. Sokka lifted his arms which were wrapped safely around Y/N’s head and body. 

taglist: @emberislandplayers​ @eridanuswave​ @fandomobsessedlife​ @hopefuloperaangelnerd​ @multi-fandomstan​ @minifruity​ @marylisss​ @iflostreturntoflynnrider​

[graysistance]

we can share the bed.    /    @aniimvs  (with an appearance by @darkestshadeofgrey)

rey isn't sure where the nightmares come from, but every night they’re usually the same.

always, always, there is her and the desert. what she does in the desert is the only element that changes. sometimes she is swallowed by sinking sands, screaming with a mouth that can make no noise despite her best efforts. the dry silt fills her mouth and she wakes gasping and clutching her throat. sometimes she watches as figures she is running to are blown away by a sandstorm or face the same fate she does. as they scrabble for purchase on the unmerciful dunes, she cries and cries for them to be saved. the figures and their faces rotate, but she always knows them. she wakes up the most terrified after seeing kylo or elias reaching for her as she runs, yet can never reach them in time. sometimes her feet do not seem to move at all. and sometimes, on better nights, she watches in seething rage as her old slave master is sucked down and out of sight. an outstretched hand hovers above him, seeming to push him deeper without ever touching him. rey thinks it's her hand. it doesn't seem like it could be anyone else's.

tonight the only face she sees is kylo's. there is the customary desperation as she sees his feet sinking, but the tide changes when rey is able to reach him just before the sand reaches his arms. her dream fingers grab onto his dream face, shaking so badly that it's difficult to hold on without him slipping through. starving from loss and sick with despair, rey presses her forehead to his. they're running out of time.

                  ❝ don't leave me, ❞  she can hear herself plead like a child through tears, through the rasp of collapsing sand.

kylo merely smiles at her, and so bitterly.

                  ❝ you have to let me go. ❞

                  ❝ no! ❞  the shame hits her within an instant, but the denial does not ebb. ❝ no, i can’t go on without you. i don’t want to! stay, please would you stay. ❞

his grip on her wrists loosens and she cries out.

                  ❝ kylo, a little longer. i don't want to be alone again so soon. ❞ it’s less of a girlish whimper now and more like a command, her voice digging deep to try and find the fortitude being a jedi is supposed to impart.

the dune she is splayed across gives a final groan and kylo sinks down to a depth almost out of sight. the last words he gives her are  ❝ you know i can't. you know we can't. ❞  they are a death sentence that hangs ringing in the air. wailing for him to come back is futile.

so as he goes, rey shrieks her rage and her grief into the wind instead, not content to simply sob. hands that scrabble against the sinking sand do nothing but trap her in the glittering mess, yet she cannot stop. if rey stops fighting she dies, too. if she cannot scream then she has nothing left. 

behind her, from a place she cannot see, comes another scream that sounds exactly like elias.

by the time rey gasps herself awake, chest heaving around a final wheeze of  ❝ no! ❞, the tears on her face have dried three times over.

an hour hemorrhages away second by granular second, only managing to drive rey more mad. tossing and turning is no balm for the feelings of dread that wriggle in her chest. it's been too dark to see her chronometer since before sleep overtook her, but rey doesn't spare a glance for the time when she sits up on her cot. if she can't sleep alone, best to do a cursory check of kylo's welfare. the remaining vestiges of fear in her mind insist it can't hurt. it’s the same fear that the jedi masters are so intent on expunging from her psyche (or so it feels) but how bad can it really be when all it drives her to do is protect?

padding down the halls to his room is a dance she's had well choreographed for many months, but there's always something darkly exhilarating about each tender step. anyone might spot her if she's not quiet enough. keeping pressed to the wall and muffling her presence with the force work as well as anything else, and agida propels her quickly to her destination. love and fear twist around each other like a net she must push through every second she’s hasn’t reached the source of his signature yet.

it must be said that rey does not intrude upon friends or loves alike unless absolutely necessary. using the force to unlock a door on a distressing night feels absolutely necessary. it’s hardly the first time she’s felt this way.

but to her surprise, on her arrival the door isn’t locked.

easing it open reveals a predictably shadowy and spartan space and rey can only just pick out the inky blob that is kylo’s cot. atop it, she is relieved to see what she can only assume is his half-curled form, though that in itself sparks confusion. drawing closer to his sleeping body reveals an important part of the scene rey ought to have sensed much earlier.

something in her chest unravels so suddenly. so sweetly. all attempts to mask her presence drop in the face of relief and just a little bit of surprise.

kylo is wrapped in a gentle curve around elias’s slightly smaller figure. both are on their sides, breathing so softly that rey hardly sees their chests moving in tandem at first. a moment of the sharpest terror passes until she convinces herself they aren’t dead. not terrified and not about to die. not like in her dreams. 

no, she is very much awake and overcome by a creeping sense of fondness.

this......thing, this bond between the three of them had not come from nowhere. what it had come with was hesitation (mostly on the boys’ parts, as rey didn’t have a shy bone in her body. or if she did, she was yet to find it) and intense curiosity. was it truly possible to love more than one person at once they way she loved kylo? it was hard enough keeping the bend of her heart hidden from the masters, so how much harder would it become trying to balance her feelings?

thus far she’d found no reason to regret any of it. while it was strange to be cared for by so many, and strange to....share kylo, although that wasn’t really the word for it, rey looked down at kylo and elias seemingly at peace and knew she’d made the right choice in reaching for them both. they all had.

it’s with a small start and no warning that kylo wakes. even his jolt is so subtle that rey has to stop and wonder if he was ever truly asleep in the first place. before rey can do anything except gape his half-open eyes have sought out her silhouette and pinned her, sucking her in like a gravity well. ( they always do, no matter where she happens to be. the weight of years bear down through his gaze -- many more than the few he has on her. ) no need to reach out his hand and stop her as if she was an intruder. which….well, rey can admit she is.

instead of a stronger reaction, kylo simply blinks at her. long moments pass and she blinks back, slowly succumbing to regret and embarrassment. was this the one time she’d overstepped, the one night she wasn’t welcome? 

but before rey can turn tail and run, accept that more of her private battles had to stay that way, the drowsy gravel of kylo’s voice seems to wash over the embers of her discomfort.

                ❝ you too? ❞

a stunned pause. 

                 ❝ what? ❞

                 ❝ nightmares. ❞

shoulders slump and she looks away, teeth digging into her bottom lip. so they’re all having them. kylo’s she’d known a little of, maybe elias’s in passing, but all together? all the parts of her bruised heart reserved solely for these two fellow padawans of hers begin to sting. she nods. 

                 ❝ yes, nightmares. ❞  a gamble. ❝ you. the desert was trying to take you away again. ❞

his eyes don’t widen, but rey knows they detect so much more than she wishes they did. yet she cannot do anything but stand and be scanned like a patient in the med center without the option to retreat. and she doesn’t want to. she wants to stay and guard someone she loves and make sure nothing can ever hurt them or take them away from her. she wants so much she aches.

then kylo moves just a little, twisting rather uncomfortably to check the space at his back. there’s a small amount of cot left even with the two boys taking up most of it. both of them are tall and slender already, though rey is still a wiry slip compared to them. which means there’s enough room for her, but only just. 

                  ❝ come on. we can share. ❞

it’s a full body effort to repress a whimper of relief and her body shudders with it. for all the times kylo has seemed so imperious, so drawn and dour, rey remembers every moment of his kindness to her. remembers when the ways they reached for each other became too tender and too big for her body to contain. every new occasion to experience it brings her to her knees when he isn’t looking. but rey wastes no time in doing as she’s told, slipping into the thin ribbon of free space and molding herself to kylo’s back eagerly. all at once she can feel so much of her fear slink away and back to where she stuffs it out of sight. one hand seeks the thump of his heartbeat, weaving around to his front where her fingers can rest against his chest, greedy for reassurance. something about her fingers becoming trapped between both elias and kylo makes her smile. as she wriggles her way to comfort, she can’t help but press the smile into kylo’s shoulder. the muscles below her mouth twitch, but that only makes her cling tighter. eventually she’ll let go of the space at his heart and seek out elias’s arm somewhere in the parallel tangle of their bodies, but for now she is more than content.

with the warmth of kylo’s robes against her lips, his heart at her fingertips, hers at his back, and elias near enough to touch, rey feels mysteriously….happy. even with the poisonous dream so recently faded and her fear biding its time, she is at home. this is home. close to the people she loves, ensuring they’re protected. making certain they are safe. 

it doesn’t take long for shadows to spread across her vision and pull her gently into sleep. no dreams and no panic greet her when she succumbs at last. 

all is well. for once, it truly is.

[unlockthelore]

Dream Come True - Part III

Wrought with nightmares, the line between reality and dream blurs for a moment — and a moment is all that’s needed.

Part of the Dream Come True fic on Ao3. For more updates, follow the dream come true tag on this blog. 

Baku-san, Baku-san, come eat my dreams!

Baku-san, Baku-san, come eat my dreams!

Baku-san, Baku-san —

“[ ], what are you doing?” A silvery saccharine voice called out, interrupting the chanting child swinging her feet whilst perched at the edge of the veranda. Peering over her shoulder at a weathered face lined in deep wrinkles twisting around a smiling mouth and crinkled eyes, [ ] smiled.

“Calling out to a baku,” she said matter-of-factly, shielding her eyes with a sweaty palm before making a throaty noise of disgust, dragging her hand along the side of her shorts.

Voice gentle and almost chiding, the elderly woman shook her head. “And why ever would you want to do that?” She asked, the corners of her lips twisting into an expression [ ] couldn’t quite place. The wrinkles in her forehead deepening and [ ] hunched her shoulders instinctively, casting a glance out at the wide open fields seeming to stretch into the horizon where the sun touched the earth and sank.

“Because it might be hungry,” she mumbled, feeling something burning in her stomach and crawling along her skin. Tucking her knees close to her, she buried her face behind them and listened to the small fan left at her side whir.

After a lingering silence, the elderly woman sighed. “Well, it is almost dinner time,” she murmured and [ ] lifted her head enough to see the smile returned, accompanied by an outstretched hand.

Afternoon sunlight bled the sky in deep oranges and golds, cicadas singing in thick summer air, humidity making her clothes stick to her skin with a thin film of sweat clinging to her like a second skin.

“Let’s go inside, [ ]. Souta should be waking up from his nap soon.”

Clamoring up onto the veranda, [ ] smiled brightly. The small fan left abandoned and buzzing on the wooden terrace was scooped up in her hand as she hurried over, pressing her cheek to the periwinkle skirts of the elderly woman greeting her with open arms. The cloth cool against her cheeks, a gnarled hand patting down her damp hair before ushering her inside with a light tap to her shoulder.

Slipping her hand into her grandmother’s calloused palm, she curled her fingers around the woman’s own and stole one last glance as the sun dipped below the horizon with only a few pitiful sunbeams to mark its passing. The door rattled on its hinges as her grandmother slid it shut and she peered through the crack for one last viewing, shifting her attention to the elderly woman at her side as they walked through dimly lit halls with only a paper lantern to guide their way.

“Why does Souta sleep so much, grandma?” [ ] asked, skipping over the lighter parts in the wooden floor’s grain, thinking of how fun it would be when

“Your brother is still little, he needs his rest so he can grow big,” Her grandmother chuckled as [ ] beamed up at her, preening from the compliments. “Just like you.”

Her head bobbed from one side to the other, hair swaying and brushing against her ears as she whipped her head to the shoji. Ebbing moonlight tinted silvery-white, stretching shadows long overhead where her grandmother’s lantern couldn’t reach. Looking back to the wall, she stared at her own shadow, lifting and dropping her arm to watch the silhouette repeat it. Glancing toward her grandmother’s shadow, the elder woman’s spindly fingers grasped her own a bit tighter, pulling her down the hall kindly.

Amber firelight flickering and roaring in the lantern brightened, her eyes watering the longer she tried to stare at it, rubbing at them with a soft sigh.

“Tired, [ ]?” Her grandmother asked.

Her jaw cracked with a yawn and she groaned, feeling the gentle buzz of sleep beginning to creep. Indignation twisted in her stomach. She wasn’t a baby like Souta, she didn’t have to sleep as much as he did. Though no matter how much she tried to keep the yawns at bay, they kept coming and keeping her eyes open only made them water more.

“I’m not little like Souta, I can stay awake,” she insisted between yawns, covering her mouth with her hand and letting her eyes fall shut. “He sleeps way more than I do.”

“I know,” her grandmother said in that soft way that made [ ] wonder if she really did know. “But try to be patient with him, okay? He’s your little brother, [ ]. You have to look out for one another. Okay?”

[ ]’s head bobbed and she looked away from her grandmother’s lantern as best as she could, staring up at the wall. Her own shadow stretched long but when she glanced aside, her vision fuzzed around the edges. Eyes drifting closed just as a hand slipped underneath her and lifted her off her feet. Burying her face in the sweetness of her grandmother’s apron straps, [ ] sighed and tucked her arms around the older woman’s sloping shoulders.

“Okay…” [ ] murmured, closing her eyes.

                                              — 幽☆遊☆白書 —

A thick perfumed cloud, sandalwood and jasmine mingling with lilac and pine, weighed [ ] down as she tried to wake. Her eyelashes fluttered and she groaned, pushing against the soft heavy weight over her back. Humidity crept through the air. Sweat sticking to her like a second skin, a lump formed in her dry throat that made her breaths ragged and croaky. She squinted through the haze, seeing two incense burning atop a small dresser with their tips glowing off-white. With the last vestiges of sleep holding her tightly in their grasp, and the scuttling noises along the hardwood around her, she was certain she’d still been dreaming.

Rolling onto her side is difficult. The soft heavy weight melds around her, attempting to press her further against the pillow smushed against her cheek. Her legs and arms are lead, tucked close to body, and she feels as if she’s sinking into the futon. A swath of light passes over her closed eyelids and traces over to the curve of her neck, warming until she grimaces, burying her face against the pillow to hide the burn. It doesn’t leave though and only seems to intensify as a deep smoky voice, tender and mild, shatters the silence while it echoes close to her ear.

“[ ], are you still sleeping?”

She hesitates, tongue thick and pressed to the arid roof of her mouth. Her head thudded loudly as it plummeted to her stomach, something deep inside squeezing and twisting. She faintly remembers her grandmother and her kind hands, Souta sleeping somewhere, haphazardly tossing blankets and sheets around his small body taking up more space than it should. They were here, and she had nothing to fear.

But for the sunlight to shine so brightly, how long had she been asleep?

Groggily, [ ] pushed against the futon, grunting when her hand sank into it with each push. Leaning on her elbow then pressing her fist down, she heard a yawning creak as she finally lurched upright. The heavy weight landing in her lap and she winced, closing her eyes tightly then forcing them open as something squirming and squiggly, scuttling around the edges of her vision threatened to creep forward.

There was so much light in the room that its as hard for her to make out anything, even her feet at the end of the futon were blurs.

“[ ]?”

Flicking her gaze up to meet the silhouette perched at the end of her futon, she blinked against the glare and tipped her head to one side. Where was this? Without the furniture, the stickers and posters and toys littering the ground, she wasn’t sure whether this was her room or elsewhere. Not even Souta was discernible.

“[ ],” the voice snapped again and she twitched upright, cautiously turning forward to look at them. The light seemed to be surrounding her but it went no further and the silhouette stepped no closer.

“It’s almost morning, dearest. Even little Souta is up before you.”

Rubbing her eyes to clear the grit, [ ] murmured. “Baba?”

How could it be morning when it’d just been evening? She remembered the sun setting and her grandmother carrying the lantern. When did she fall asleep? Fog rolled into her mind, fuzzing thoughts around the edges as she peered into the misty white surrounding her and the silhouette shimmering and trembling along the edges.

A dull aching along the edges of her mind made falling back into sleep appealing and she sniffled. “Sorry,” murmured as she sank back onto her elbow, not quite lying prone but enough that the silhouette was still in view. Why was it just staying there?

“No need to apologize,” her grandmother’s saccharine sweet voice echoed from everywhere, even in her ears, and she wondered why the lights were so bright. “Are you still feeling sleepy?”

“Mhm.”

Heat and humidity muddles her thoughts until she’s lost in a sea of sensation and endless white. Her eyelids feel heavier and she tips backward into the bedding’s soft comfort, watching the silhouette at the foot of her bed shimmer and wriggle beneath her eyelashes. A shallow breath, ragged and rattles in the open air like coins in the bottom of a jar, and the silhouette edges closer. Panic finds no place in her heart and she wonders if this was her grandmother. It was too tall, broad and upright where her grandmother was hunched and willowy. Gnarled hands don’t reach for her past the veil, but slender fingers peeling away the silhouette as if it was a second skin.

“There’s no helping it,” her grandmother’s voice resounds and the fingers still, trembling violet as their tips begin to darken as if the skin was being burned. “Rest here for a bit.”

It was so strange. Her stomach twisted at the sight, the silhouette shifting erratically until it was indiscernible at the edges. A blob of deep grey, faceless and reaching, but unable to come closer. Sweat sticks thick hair to the back of her neck and her legs refused to head her call as the silhouette lowers its hand, instead reaching for the blanket-covered feet below.

Swallowing a dry lump, pressure built in her stomach as she urged her leg to move. Static coursed from her toes to her ankle, a scream sticking to the back of her throat. Muddled thoughts sloshed about and she forced them apart, helplessly glancing about at the screen of white. “Baba…?”

Relief washed over her as her grandmother’s gentle voice whispered, “Yes, [ ]?” , and the static buzzing in her legs eases enough for her to wrench it away from the silhouette’s covetous hands. Inching further toward her pillow, she held it tightly and swallowed the lump in her throat as slender fingers began to bubble on the skin. Blotched red and violets blotted with sickly yellows remind her of the shows her mother watched from time to time.

“It’s noisy here,” she whines, unable to keep the whine from her voice as the pillow mashes against her chest in a makeshift shield.

“A bad noise or a good noise?” Her grandmother whispers, seeming closer to her back but she dared not turn her eyes away from the silhouette.

She thinks to ask what the silhouette wants. Why does it reach for her and where is she? Or call for her grandmother to come find her, Souta to wake up, someone to pull her from this strange dream. A snap echoes off in the distance like thread being cut and she turns her head just so, squinting up at a thin strand hanging in the distance, a dull grey cord swaying to and fro on an unseen breeze.

“I don’t know,” she mutters after a few moments, quickly averting her gaze to the shadow as it stalks closer to the edge of her futon. “Baba, could you tell me a story?”

Once again, the silhouette stills and shudders violently but her grandmother’s voice is calm and serene. “Any particular one?”

“A good one,” She urges without hesitation, swallowing the sick feeling in her throat when the silhouette stands at her side looming over her enough that the eerie light is swallowed in its shadow.

Her grandmother takes a bit longer to speak and she quietly urges her to say something and free her from the shadow’s icy grasp, her breath stolen from her lungs, chest cinched painfully tight. “Hm, what about the story of light—“

“Not that one, Baba,” she chokes out, sputtering and heaving deep breaths, inching further with her pillow held firmly between trembling hands.

“Oh? Why not?”

Why not? Racking her brain for her grandmother’s explanations and heartfelt lessons illustrated in colorful stories that sent her off to sleep, she can’t seem to think. The silhouette seems to freeze and tips its head, erratic shaking dying down until it only trembles in place. Its head tips a bit more, unnaturally, almost falling from body and the hand blotched in sickly shades clears immediately.

Copper-brown skin glistens in the light and reaches out for her but she refuses, inching back. From finger to wrist, the shadows recede until a hand is reaching out to her. A hand that seems as human as her own and she questioningly looks up to the one who possesses it.

Her grandmother’s stories, while blissfully long and easy to doze off to, warn of strangers in disguise. To treat them with respect even when they strike fear in her heart because there is much worse they could do. Flicking a glance at her hand then to the faceless head, she stuffs her pillow against her side and reaches out.

“What about the story, [ ]?” Her grandmother calls and the silhouette flinches back from her hand.

Regret fills her.

Was she hurting it every time she called for her grandmother to save her? Tongue thick with apology, she skimmed the palm of their hand and pulled her fingers away damp. Water slippery across her skin as if she’d stuck her hand out the window as it rained. Fog disperses and her thoughts slowly fall into place as she glances around at the veil of white, inching closer to the silhouette.

“You’re not supposed to trust the light.”

Not everything is how it appears to be. Something was wrong, her grandmother’s voice shouldn’t have been able to do that. No one’s should have. And she was sure of what she’d seen before. The silhouette reached out to her again, beckoningly.

“And why’s that?” Her grandmother asked insistently, her voice a bit harder, rougher, as if she were angry.

“Because it can blind you…” [ ] swallows and shakes her head vehemently, turning her head away from the light and toward the silhouette’s shifting darkness. “To what’s in front of you.”

The silhouette’s shifting stops and it holds its hand still as she reaches for it. Her hand slipping through its body, wet and cool, dragging her in until all she could see was darkness.

“Right, Yōsei-san?”

— 幽☆遊☆白書 —

                              [ ] struggles to open her eyes, feeling the weight of sleep settling on her chest as she struggles upward. It feels as if she’s drowning and can’t seem to find which way leads to the surface. Taking a deep breath and holding still, her lips pressed together, the buzzing in her mind’s reaches dulls and she forces her eyes open startled by the darkness. Bolting upright, her eyes focus on the seafoam pillow sheets dampened with spittle where she deduces her head was lying.

Sunlight creeps through pulled back curtains blindingly bright, and she shields her eyes, stomach turning with a backward glance at the wall where her shadow stretches. Lonely but present. Concern knots in her throat as she eases her hand to her lap, whispering softly, “Baba…?”

There’s no response but she half-expects a door to open and smells to assault her senses. Gravity weighing down on her shoulders as she flounders about trying to resurface from what holds her down. When a second of waiting stretches into minutes, the unrest is subsided and she works her fingers through her hair, puffing a bitter sigh.

“What a strange dream…” Her body bounces against the bed, the springs creaking in protest when she rolls from one side to the other, avoiding the drool-stained sheet in favor of lying on her back. There’s a brief lull in thought as she stares up at the ceiling, trying to put out of mind missing shadows and faeries.

Dreams were always peculiar. Chased by monsters in darkened meadows, stalked through forests with trees taking on frightening faces, even memories she didn’t want to revisit — yet somehow her psyche always seemed to top them night after night.

Strangely, this was one of the better ones.

“Wait, where am I?” [ ] asked herself, glancing around the room.

A wooden bookshelf squashed in the corner, lined from row to row with game cases and books, sits nearest to the double-wide glass windows leading out to what appeared to be a terrace. Nightstand with little effects aside of an old picture frame, mug with chipped smiling faces on its side, and an alarm clock reading 12:00 in flashing numbers indicating it hadn’t yet been set. Turning her head the other way, a television is perched atop the wall with a dresser beneath it, several game consoles hooked up and clothes haphazardly peeking out of shambled drawers. The bedroom door shut with a familiar jacket hooked on the back of it.

[ ] decides it’s unnecessary to look at the closet. The jacket is one-of-a-kind. Or at least that’s what her brother led her to believe.

“Right… I’m staying at Souta’s…” She murmured aloud, sinking into the mattress as she tries to prop herself up on her elbow. “How did I forget that…? Maybe I should start wearing iron more often…”

Iron deterred faeries, didn’t it?

Tipping her head back with a yawn, she stretched her arms and brushed her fingers against the headboard’s plush padding. Questionable though Souta’s motives might’ve been, his interior decorating wasn’t as bad and his bed oddly comfortable. Laziness crept deep in her bones but a bit of housekeeping was in order if she was going to stay from time to time.

And she hadn’t even gotten a good look at her temporary abode the night before. Lounging in bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, she groped idly at the nightstand for her cellphone. The mug’s chilled surface brushing against her fingers and she shivered, opening her eyes a bit wider.

She finds the handle with a bit of fiddling and pushes herself upright, bringing the mug just under her nose for a sniff. Stale chai, thick with spice and sweetness returns memories of dizzying city lights and an unfamiliar presence at her side. Deep red hair, loose around broad shoulders, verdant green eyes narrowed into slivers and crinkled at the corners as flushed cheeks dimpled with laughter. Minamino didn’t seem to be the type who liked sweets.

If all of the gifts that he was given by their co-workers were any indication, he avoided them when he could. Or at least avoided the implication that’d come if he took them. The times that he skipped out on parties, refusing to partake in any of the treats offered with hearts on sleeves — maybe he was just a modest person.

Not wanting to lead anyone on by giving them the wrong idea.

[ ]’s stomach twisted, and she reminded herself that even this gesture was something cordial. Just because two people interacted outside of work didn’t mean something other was going on. Setting the mug back on the nightstand, she gave it a little nudge behind the alarm clock as if it would shield her from thoughts of relationships — platonic or otherwise.

Unplugging her phone and going through the few e-mail notifications and IM pings, a message from Yumi brings a smile to her face. Something about her plans for their day off.

[ ]’s eyes widen and she blinks slowly. Wait, day off?

Swiping down, the UI showed the date and [ ] groaned as she flopped back onto the mountain of pillows propping her up, grimacing when the drool brushes against her nape. It was a Saturday, though. She didn’t have work but she would at seven o’clock on a Saturday! Grabbing one of the smaller pillows, no bigger than a throw, she pressed it to her face and gave a muffled scream.

Trying to go back to sleep after such a strange dream and all the thoughts about those spices would be impossible. Her body telling her that it was awake and no amount of tossing and turning would change that in the slightest. Pressing the pillow to her chest, she squeezes until she feels the stuffing melding to her palm, staring at the world beyond the window. It was a lovely view, and she almost felt envious.

Gently turning her face toward the far wall, she blinked listlessly.

Minamino lived right next door to Souta too, didn’t he?

Whether it was a coincidence or an odd twist of fate, she wasn’t sure, but she was almost curious to know what Minamino Shuuichi was like on his day off. Imagining him with bedhead, curled up and —

Her eyes widened and she smushed the pillow to her face again, rubbing the thoughts away with her face hidden. Tossing the pillow aside, she leapt out of bed as if it were set ablaze and pushed the thoughts aside. That was a dangerous place to be thinking things even if it was in jest and with a quick scrub of her fingers to rid her eyes of grit, she sighed.

A shower was in order then cleaning up.

Hesitantly, [ ] spared a glance at the wall as she passed by, ensuring her shadow was there with a little wave of her hand. There was no point in getting keyed up over a dream. Eventually, it would fade away after all.

She was in reality now.

Cleaning up Souta’s apartment proved to be more time-consuming than she first thought. For someone who didn’t have a pet or a roommate, he made enough mess to have several of both. A late-night entry blinded her to the copious amount of instant noodle packages, magazine clippings, books, and various pieces of trash thrown about. Laundry strewn outside of the hamper tucked away in the corner of his bathroom smelling as if it wouldn’t have been washed in this year. It was like someone hadn’t been there for months let alone a day or so. Snapping a few pictures for their mother’s viewing next time her brother decided to complain about her apartment, [ ] tied a tenuous around her forehead and set to work.

After setting out the futon to air dry with a few of her brother’s clothes freshly washed and rippling in the autumn breeze, she stepped out onto the balcony. A bowl of miso porridge set comfortably on the stainless steel, careful of the polish she’d done, steadying with both hands. Her stomach growled as she picked at the scallions, lifting a few to her mouth and humming at the satisfying crunch. At least Souta’s refrigerator wasn’t a mess. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done if she ate anything that was spoiled.

Cars rumbled down the street, voices from the apartment complex mingling with those on the sidewalks and elsewhere, as the city came alive before her. It was a beautiful view even from the opposite way. Recalling the dizzying lights of Sarayashiki’s heart oft in the distance, her newly gifted box of chai tea heavy with confusing sentiment, and the company at her side —

Glancing away, she almost expected to be greeted by an illusion of crimson hair and green eyes to bat away. Not a lone figure decked out in a pair of snow-flake printed pajama pants which might have been adorable if not for the steely look in brown eyes flicking toward her. She raised a hand in a tentative wave and his eyebrow raised, hand twitching upon the railing of the neighboring terrace, a few meters away though she felt with how tense his posture was — he could make the distance in one leap. With a sweeping glance over him, enough to be considered polite, he seemed normal enough but that apartment belonged to Minamino, didn’t it?

Were they roommates or perhaps he actually lived there and Minamino was simply visiting?

Earlier fantasies, albeit ignored, came to mind and she quickly shook her head.

“— Shuuichi?”

The tailed of the stranger’s words, deep and smooth, caught her off guard and she carefully pried her eyes open to find him thankfully a few meters away. One eyebrow lifted and his brown — her eyes narrowed, leaning closer to the railing as the light caught on his face casting deep shadows beneath dark bangs. His eyes almost seemed red for a moment.

“Hey,” he snapped, and she lurched back, blinking slowly.

“…Yes?”

He huffed through his nose, ruffling the fringe brushing shy of his nose then gestured to the glass sliding door behind him. “Are you looking for Shuuichi?” He asked, enunciating slowly in a flat tone.

“W—”

Why would she be looking for him? It wasn’t as if she was expecting anything even about the tea. Twitching upright, she looked over her shoulder where the mug had been sitting on the nightstand. That’s right, she had to thank him for the tea. It did help with her dreams, unusual as they were.

The stranger seemed to take her silence for an answer. “You won’t see him, he’s terrible at waking up,” he said, and hiked his shoulders in a lazy shrug, leaning against the railing as if the issue was no longer his concern. Even if she hadn’t brought it up to him to begin with.

Despite the slight annoyance, a tidbit of the Minamino Shuuichi being lazy enough on a weekend to sleep in stifled her voice. She could hardly think of him as being anything but punctual but only yesterday would’ve disproven that. “Do you live with Minamino-san?” She asked before she could stop herself, raising her hands in defense when he cuts a sideways glance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I just—”

His eyelids fall slightly and she frowned a bit, gesturing offhandedly toward the apartment building itself. “I know this side of town is a little pricey, so…”

“Ah,” he interrupts, dropping his hands in front of him. “You mean roommates?”

“Yes…?” She mutters after a few quiet moments, adding quietly. “What else?”

He says nothing for a long moment but there’s a flicker of amusement in the quirk of his smile. Hiking one shoulder in that lazy shrug, the sleeve of his black t-shirt worn and frayed riding up exposing copper-brown skin and a strange circular scar looping around his bicep.

“Nothing,” he said, brushing down the sleeve as an afterthought, hiding it from view. “You’re right, we’re roommates.”

There’s something in the way he says it that makes her want to disprove it but she didn’t want to push her luck any more than she already did. “I see…” She replies, leaning against the railing again with a curious hum. “Then you’re…”

His flat stare returns and he rolls his eyes visibly. “I thought it was custom for humans to give out their name first.”

“Oh right,” she smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m [ ].”

…. Wait, did he just say humans?

For someone who seemed fairly human himself, he spoke as if they weren’t even in the same species let alone plane of existence. He gazed downward before turning away from her, hand slipping from the railing. “You dropped your breakfast.”

“What?” She turns to look at the railing and gasps when the paper bowl isn’t there, grabbing the warmed railing and peering over at a flock of birds gathering on the street below. A few neighborhood children giggling and talking while their mothers try to keep them at bay. “Oh no!”

Clapping her hand over her mouth as she took a step backward with a hushed sigh. “Ah…” What was she going to do if that caused trouble for Souta? He’d never let her hear the end of it and probably make it into another thing she owed him a favor for. “I hope that didn’t hit anyone.”

Remembering her audience of one, she dropped her hand and turned to the neighboring terrace. “Hey — huh?”

Where the dark-haired stranger once stood, no one did. The potted plants and hanging ones on the terrace left undisturbed and not even the sliding door was ajar. It was as if no one was there to begin with but she couldn’t help but feel the faint buzzing of warmth in the air. Not the humidity, a cool autumn breeze swept around them — no, it was something else. Her eyes softened and she pressed her lips together.

“Hm.”

Maybe she was still dreaming just a little bit. Shaking her head to clear the thoughts away, she turned back and started inside, content to get ready for the day. Her phone’s screen lighting up with a number of messages as she slid the door behind her, going to retrieve it from Souta’s bedside table.

Yumi: [ ]!! where are you, where are you

She scoffed and smiled, opening up the text thread.

[ ]: sorry, I spilled my breakfast and forgot we had a day off

Yumi: Not like you to be forgetful

Yumi: Bad dream???

What was it with everyone and being worried about her dreams? Still, it wasn’t as if she could be mad at them for caring, could she? Thinking back to Minamino and the brief talk they had, her budding agitation wilted.

[ ]: A weird one but not bad.

Yumi: Well, you’re awake nooooow (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Unless you count me as a dream. ≧◡≦

She rolled her eyes, sitting down on the edge of Souta’s bed, stealing a quick glance up at the window then looking down.

[ ]: More like a lucid nightmare.

Yumi: So mean (≧o≦)

Yumi: Well, any idea what you want to do today Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

Forget that I made a fool of myself in front of a complete stranger and probably happened on a secret.

No, she couldn’t tell Yumi that.

[ ]: Souta has a game here, we could play for a little while

Yumi: Ah so that’s where you went off to

[ ]: Yeah, he needed me to housesit for him

Yumi: Well okay lets play and I can kcik your ass at smash

[ ]: Learn how to type first

Yumi: Excuse me but pointing out someone’s typos is rude o(≧o≦)o

[ ]: Later on why don’t we check out that one shop you wanted to eat at

At least the topic moved on from things about dreams. Stealing another glance upward, she raised a brow at something worming its way across the window. A centipede, perhaps? Or a cicada? No, maybe it was a —

Her phone chimed and she startled, looking down.

Yumi: THE RAMEN ONE???

Yumi: Waaaaaait are you trying to bribe me with food (￢ε￢　)

Stealing a glance upward, there was nothing there and she blinked slowly, reaching up to rub her eyes to see if there was any grit left. Maybe she could stop for something on the way or while playing with Yumi.

[ ]: Depends is it working

Yumi: Only if you’re buying

[ ]: Small price to pay

Yumi: Small??? Nope, I’m ordering everything on the menu ♪＼(*＾▽＾*)／＼(*＾▽＾*)／

[ ]: Then I hope you’re ready to wash dishes

Yumi: [ ]!

[ ]: Meet you there at 2, don’t be late.

Yumi: It’s a date.

Setting her phone down, she stood up and started out of the room with a hum. Her gaze lingering on her silhouette before she left, hoping it was simply the light that made it tremble like that.

[diinofayce]

Shadows on the Horizon - 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC! Layne Hardin | Word Count: 2k | Warnings: Language, Hydra doing bad shit | A/N: This is chapter one of my sequel book to Like a Whisper in the Night. I highly recommend reading that first, you can find it right here >> x <<

“Kill the lights, Thor,” Layne whispered into the commlink in her ear.

She was perched in a treetop high above a known Hydra compound in Siberia. The mask that had been shielding her face from the cold wind up in the treetops was pulled down around her neck so as not to obstruct her orders and so that her binoculars would sit more comfortably on her nose. The only sound that could be heard was the soft whirring and occasional clicks of the enhancer that was surgically implanted on the side of her head. Shuri had managed to update it from the original design to make it less noticeable and less likely to get caught in her long brown hair, but it seemed like the biting cold made it hard for the little box to do its job. Frost making the gears run sluggish and harsh, she wondered if Bucky ever had this problem with his arm but assumed not seeing as it was made out this bitter cold.

With a rumble of sudden thunder, dark grey clouds came rolling in from the north, lightning crackled along the fluffy ridges of the storm. As it seemed to almost settle itself purely above the brick and mortar complex, lightning bolts flashed and targeted the power supplies. Generators popped and smoldered, small flames shooting up to the night sky only to be quenched by the sudden downpour of freezing rain.

Layne cursed softly to herself as the wind whipped the rain her way, it turns into ice shards that beat against her skin by the time it got to her hiding spot. Raising the binoculars to her nose again she focused her vision so she was able to see the auras of everyone in that building, including her own team.

“Sweet, Sergeant; your west is good to go,” Layne muttered into the comms, watching as the bright yellow and army green silhouettes made their silent entrance on the west side of the building.

She moved her vision to the south side of the complex where the silent infiltration was waiting for the go-ahead, unfortunately, the generators were also housed on the south end.

“I have unfriendlies moving south. Assault team, make some noise, please.” Layne ordered. With the onslaught of the storm and how far off Layne was she couldn’t hear from her position if Agent Sweet and the Sergeant were doing as instructed, but she figured they were when the group of five bright blue silhouettes that had been running for the south side turned on their heels and headed down a Westward corridor.

“Five your way from the south-east, assault team. Specter, you’re green to go.”

Layne watched as the lemon yellow aura of her brother faded from her vision, signaling to her that he had successfully melted into the shadows and entered the building. Turning her gaze back to her assault team she frowned and looked around frantically for any sign of the sergeant's army green aura when she noticed Sweet was on her own, four blue auras on the ground around her.

“Assault team, report,” Layne demanded as she watched Sweet continue down the hallway towards a southwest room.

“Barnes went after one of the operatives - looked like a lab tech more than a soldier. I think Barnes recognized him,” Sweet’s voice crackled back through the comm link and Layne swore.

“Sergeant, report,” Layne demanded aggressively, not worried if her voice happens to carry to unwanted ears. “Bucky, fucking report, dammit.”

Layne combed the complex, not even looking away as Thor landed below her tree with a heavy thud and a plume of snow. He held Stormbreaker in one hand and his burnt-out commlink in the other, his face stoic and serious as he also watched the complex down below the hill.

“Specter, do you have eyes on the Sergeant?” Layne asked, a desperate edge creeping into her voice.

“No,” came the faint whisper of his voice which told her that he was still mostly dematerialized and finding a way to complete his part of the mission.

Layne swore and threw the binoculars to the ground.

“Thor, I have to go dark.”

“Lady Whisper, I think that is unwise,” Thor grit out. He wasn’t a fan of the assault team being split up either, but he knew that Sweet was more than capable of taking care of herself despite his worry.

“I’m in charge of this mission, Thor. One of my operatives is unresponsive and this needs to be followed through to the end. Will you protect me?” Layne asked, scooting back against the trunk of the tree. She pulled a rope off of a carabiner on her tact pants and threw it around the trunk and her waist before cinching herself in place.

Thor gritted his teeth, a growl of frustration tore from his chest and up his throat, he knew he shouldn’t let her go in but he was just as unnerved as anyone. He caught the comm link that Layne threw down to him and watched as she took a deep breath. In the dark, he could see her dark brown eyes flash with amber fire before her body went limp and ragdolled against the tree, saved from falling out by the rope around her waist.

Thor slipped the commlink in his ear and hit the button. “I am back online. Whisper has entered the field,” he spoke gruffly. “Report.”

He heard his lady’s frustrated sigh and the sound of automatic gunfire. “Of course she is. I’m in position, holding for Specter.”

“Any signs of Sergeant Barnes?”

“Negative.”

Thor dropped his hand from his ear and looked back up at Layne’s empty shell of a body. He scrubbed his hand over his beard aggressively before sinking the blade of Stormbreaker into a neighboring tree. It was not often Thor was the one who had to stay back and do nothing and it was not a situation he was fond of being in.

Layne loved astral projecting, for most of her life she hated her abilities. They made her feel like a freak and her parents and eldest brother often made life hell for her and Daniel for being something other than normal kids. But now, after being with the Avengers for a little over a year she couldn’t get enough of them. Although, the first few months were rough, getting past her alcohol addiction and getting used to the stress and drama that came with being a superhero all in a very short amount of time made it hard to have a healthy relationship. Not that she and Bucky started in a healthy way to begin with, but they were in a much more solid space now. They trusted each other implacably and rarely was one sent on a mission without the other, which is why Bucky neglecting to answer his report demand made her so high strung. Something was wrong, Bucky wouldn’t fail her in this one simple way.

In this bodiless form, Layne was able to slip between cracks in doors and remain unseen despite basically floating down the middle of the hallways. She couldn’t really see, though, was the only issue not in a traditional sense anyway. Everything appeared like a gray barely shaped blob, like a video game that was poorly rendered. What she could see were the auras of individuals, brightly lighting their location for her so she could easily take over the consciousness of anyone of her choosing.

They were basically color coded, which made it easy to find people like Steve and Bucky who were a rich army green or Thor and Loki who were bright royal red; but most people were either a brilliant cobalt blue or a fluorescent yellow. Blue were humans and yellow were mutants. People who were enhanced, like Steve and Bucky, had different colored auras and she tried to keep a little catalog of different ones she’s come across. Like King T’Challa was a beautiful velvet purple and Bruce while usually blue often had a noxious neon green swirling around the depths of his aura until the Hulk took over and was green entirely.

Layne found her best friend, Susanna Sweet’s, location fairly easily. As a mutant with super strength in a Hydra facility, she was one of two yellow auras in the building; the other being her brother, Daniel codename Specter’s, flickering aura. He could melt into shadows and control auras just as she could and when he was disappeared his aura disappeared with him leaving no trace. But he was skilled at computers and engineering so they had brought him along to run the hacking and you needed corporeal fingers to hack. Swooping past Susanna, she heard her friend cuss softly at the information Thor was feeding her through the comm link.

It should be easy to find Bucky, only two people in the entire planet (that she had come across) had auras like them so why wasn’t she seeing it? Turning a corner she found herself blocked by an odd force field. It covered a large set of double doors and beyond it, Layne could see six blue auras, one yellow, and one that oozed with inky black fury. Layne pressed her consciousness against the doorway, but it was almost like a thick rubber wall coated the doors and she couldn’t find purchase.

She swirled around from room to room trying to think of everything the different spies at the Avengers complex taught her. What would Natasha or Clint do? It was then that she caught sight of the air vents and triumphantly ghosted her way through them. The ducts were heavy with dust and grime and despite not having lungs in this form it still made her feel dirty and clogged down.

Finding the air vents to the barricaded room weren’t blocked she shot out and if she had blood it would have turned to ice. Standing there, like she had seen so many times from Bucky’s screaming nightmares, in all it’s cold rusted glory was the chair. A bruised and battered woman, her hair roughly shorn from her scalp, sat in the far corner, her hands outstretched towards the double doors. No doubt a mutant they kept once word of Layne and Daniel leaked to the presses, a very helpful power to slow the two phantom kids down. But what scared Layne the most was the soldiers and the scientists that were crowded around Bucky. He stood still, the light behind his eyes gone, as one of the soldiers clapped shut a little red book.

Layne had seen photos of that book, she knew that book had been destroyed. The aura that poured from Bucky was so intensely black it almost seemed to suck in the light around it, it oozed pain and hatred and despair. Gone was any sign of the warm, strong, confident green of what his aura was supposed to look like. This wasn’t Bucky anymore, this was bad; very, very bad. Suddenly the Soldier’s cold eyes shot up to where she was invisibly hovering and it froze her to her core. There was none of her Bucky behind that stare, those eyes were murderous and spiteful and somehow they knew she was there. As the soldiers started dragging Bucky back towards the chair, Layne shook herself out of her stupor and flew back through the vents.

Retracing the halls she flew past Susanna and into the room where her brother was just pulling a flash drive from a computer tower. He looked up sharply as he sensed his sister’s aura and the panic it was in. Layne saw his eyes flash that same amber fire as he made room in his mind for her. Layne melted into her brother, sharing with him the memory of what she had just witnessed as she raised her brother’s hand to his commlink.

“Sergeant Barnes is down. The Winter Soldier is on the field.”  

[jarienn972]

The Inbetween - Chapter Two

I want to thank everyone for all of the lovely comments I've received on the first chapter of this story. This was a bit out of my comfort zone but it has been so much fun to write this story for @cssns and I have to thank @kmomof4 and everyone else involved with this event for putting it together!

Thanks again to @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 for her wonderful artwork and a great spirit booster as well! (Pun intended)  Also adding a reminder that this story will contain a non-consensual spirit possession so if this is an issue for anyone, I'm again giving ample warning.  

I was able to get a quick update in this week due to a change in my days off at work and future chapters will be posted over the next few Wednesdays.

Also in AO3 and FF.net  Tumblr: Chapter One

And now, here's Chapter Two!

:Hearing her father's voice above the crackling static of the radio was as welcome as a muse to Emma's ears. Tyler Sprat and his friends has been found so they could all now go home. While she hadn't had much of a chance to explore the butler's quarters before receiving David's message, she was glad there wasn't a need to. Compared to the lavish decor of the mansion, this section was like the thrift-store knock-off, filled with cheap furniture and a decades-old television that still had a rabbit-ear antenna. In truth, it was probably the creepiest place she'd seen in the entire property because it was like stepping back into one of the many foster homes of her childhood, none of which she wanted to revisit.

She was simply anxious to rejoin her husband and father so they could put this night behind them. Pulling the door to the butler's quarters closed behind her, she hurried back down the corridor leading to the kitchen. Emma didn't linger in that room at all, pushing through the swinging doors into the square room, then she passed through the propped open door into the dining hall. She paused at the sideboard to replace the candelabra she'd borrowed. Perhaps it was her imagination toying with her again, but she swore there was a faint whiff of smoke in the air - even before she blew out the four candles she'd been utilizing. She dismissed the improbable thought while she flicked the power button on the flashlight, readying it to light her path back to the vestibule. She was exhausted and eager to go home, but the next sound she heard sent chills all the way to her core and ushered in a gut-wrenching sense of deja-vu.

She heard her father's voice - but this time, it wasn't coming through the radio. He was shouting, loud enough that she could hear him clearly, but it was precisely what he was shouting that terrified her - Killian's name.

Still searching for a way to gain access to the possible attic space above him, Killian was naturally surprised to hear the sound of David's voice on the radio, especially his announcement that the three adolescents had been located. Perhaps his weary mind was playing tricks on him, but Killian was certain that the faint, distant voices were continuing to call to him. Maybe not to him per se, but they were undoubtedly attempting to communicate with someone. They whispered to him in jumbled phrases: "Can you hear us?" "Is it this one?" He wasn't able to make sense of all their messages, but clearly his ears betrayed him if these disembodied voices did not belong to the lads and lass they sought.

No matter, he thought, closing the door to one of the bed chambers as he turned back toward the staircase. The youngsters had been found and were safe with David so their work here was done and he could now happily return to the ground level to rejoin his wife. If all went as planned, he'd be tucked back into his own bed within the hour, and since technically this was still Emma's shift, he'd leave the infernal paperwork to her.

As he threw a quick glance over the railing before descending the curving stairs, he could make out a beam of light from an electronic torch illuminating the vestibule below him. David was speaking to the three teens, apparently chastising them for their reckless decision to enter this dwelling, but it was at the sound of one of the boys responding to David's questioning that Killian took pause on the top step. The entire time he'd been on the second floor, Killian had been certain that he'd been hearing the voices of those adolescents, but listening to the the boy's voice now, it most certainly did not match any he'd heard.

If he hadn't been hearing the missing teenagers speaking, just whose voices had he been listening to?

Was there someone else trapped in this damnable mansion too? He knew the previous Author, Isaac, had once been imprisoned here. Were there others?

"Everyone accounted for?" Killian called down to his father-in-law before taking another step.

"Just waiting on Emma," David replied, "but the rest of the gang is all here." Killian nodded an affirmative, not that David could see the movement of his head. There was sufficient light provided by his lantern and David's modern torch for Killian to clearly make out the shapes of four individuals standing in the entryway. So, shrugging off his lingering doubt, he placed his hand on the banister to guide his way in the dark, and continued his descent.

But then he heard it again, a tiny wisp in his ear: "Need this one…" Who was talking to him? Killian asked himself, pausing once again halfway down the stairs. He rotated his head, glancing back toward the landing above him just as the unseen force struck. Before he knew who or what had hit him, he found himself tumbling down the remaining steps. Unable to grasp anything that would help him gain purchase, momentum carried him to the marble floor at the bottom. There was a shout of his name in those fleeting seconds, but Killian wouldn't recall hearing it as his head and body collided with the unyielding marble and he swiftly succumbed to unconsciousness.

Hearing her father shouting Killian's name sent a renewed shiver down Emma's spine - David rarely used Killian's given name and there was alarm in his voice. The combination spurred a sense of urgency that sent her dashing out of the dining hall, through the darkness of the corridor towards the entryway, running as quickly as she could without fear of colliding with furniture or walls in the dim light. Reaching the vestibule, she stumbled into Killian's broken lantern before recognizing the silhouettes of her father, kneeling at the bottom of the stairs, and those of the three teenagers hovering above, but she couldn't make out where her husband was until she passed the staircase.

It took her a moment to realize that David was actually kneeling beside Killian as her husband was sprawled out on the floor, and he didn't appear to be moving. "Killian!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees next to her father, momentarily ignoring the three gawking teens who'd drawn them into this mess in the first place. "What happened?"

"I don't really know," David replied, shifting to his left so his daughter could move in closer. "One minute, he was asking if everyone was accounted for, and I said everyone but you was here. Next thing I knew, he stopped halfway down the steps and looked up toward the landing like something startled him, and then he fell. It was like his feet slipped right out from under him and he tumbled down those last eight or nine stairs and hit the floor hard."

"Are you kidding me?" one of the boys spoke up, although David wasn't really sure which one was speaking. However, what the teen was about to say was going to change their perception of everything that they'd experienced. "He didn't fall - something came up behind him and pushed him!"

"Pushed him?" Emma almost didn't believe what she'd heard as she tried to determine how severely her husband might be injured. "What do you mean? Who pushed him?"

"I can't really say it was a who. More like a what…" the boy continued. "I think it was the same shadowy blob we've been chasing all night…"

Shadowy blob? Emma tried to contemplate exactly the boy's description meant as her fingertips found a swollen bump at Killian's temple, figuring there would be a matching one on the back of his skull based on how he'd landed. "He's got a nasty bump here, but I can't see if there's anything worse because it's too dark."

"Hook's lantern is shattered so it won't help. I've got another flashlight in the truck though," David offered. "I'll go get it and I'll be right back." David stood and directed his attention back to the teenagers. "You three - you're coming with me so I can get you home before your parents worry any more."

"But we want to know what happens…" Aiden said, his eyes pleading to stay, but David was having none of this.

"You're going home and so are we - as soon as Emma can make sure Hook's okay," David stated. "Let's go." David gave Aiden a little shove towards the front door but it was Tyler who reached it first. The teen turned the glass knob, but when he tried to tug the door open, it didn't budge.

"Sheriff..., the door won't open," Tyler stated. "I think it's locked."

"From the inside? We didn't lock the door when we came in," Emma said as she glanced over suspiciously.

"It won't do anything," Tyler reiterated, anxiety creeping into his voice, fearing they might be trapped again.

"Maybe it's just stuck?" David suggested as he gave it a try, but he also failed to open the front door. "He's right. It won't open but it isn't locked. It's like there's a force field or something holding it shut."

"Or a protective spell?" Emma shuddered, instantly reminded of this mansion's history.

"We're trapped in this house again, aren't we?" Aiden groaned, his excitement over chasing ghosts in an abandoned mansion now fully dissipated.

"There has to be a way out," Emma assured them, although her gut kept trying to deny it. Her immediate concern though was for her husband's welfare. She suspected he had a concussion, but it was just too dark in here to get a good look. Her fingertips gently explored his head and neck, feeling for injuries and finding a wet, sticky substance matting his hair. Killian was bleeding, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from or how severe it was. "Damn…," she sighed. "We need more light. I can't see how badly Killian is hurt and I need to make sure we all get out of this miserable place. There are a bunch of big candle holders in the dining hall. I used one of them myself earlier tonight. Would someone go bring a few of them in here?"

"I'll go," David offered.

"I'll go with you, Sheriff Nolan," Angie chimed in. "We can bring twice as many that way."

"Alright then. We'll be right back," David promised.

"Thanks," Emma replied with the faintest of smiles before turning to the two boys. "You two - can you get a cell signal over by the door?" She dug her phone from her jacket pocket and passed it to Aiden. "If you get a signal, call your mothers so they won't worry…"

"Sorry, not getting a signal, Sheriff," Aiden responded as he returned the phone a minute or two later, just as David and Angie emerged from the shadows with candelabras in hand.

David rested his two candle holders on the stairs behind Emma while Angie placed hers on the floor. "Want to do the honors and light these up?" he asked Emma.

"I wasn't able to light them with magic earlier so - here…" Emma rummaged through her pocket for the lighter and then held it out for her father. "You'll have to use this…" Taking the lighter from her outstretched hand, David flicked it a few times to ignite the flame then hurriedly moved from candle to candle igniting the wicks. The flickering candlelight immediately brightened the room, enabling Emma a better view of Killian's bumps and bruises.

Regardless of whether Killian had actually been pushed or simply tripped and fell down the staircase, he'd struck his head hard. The swollen contusion that Emma had felt at his temple was already darkening to a purplish-red and was a fair indicator he'd struck more than just the marble floor. His right shoulder was contorted in an unnatural manner that suggested dislocation, most likely from a futile attempt to stop his descent. She still couldn't be certain whether he'd broken any bones, but his lingering unconsciousness was making her wary.

"Think you can heal him?" David inquired, interrupting her thoughts.

"Maybe…," Emma replied tentatively. "Hopefully...especially if we're stuck in here. My magic has been a little wonky though. I should have been able to light those candles earlier… What if I can't do it?"

"Let's worry about crossing that bridge if we come to it," David tried to encourage her with that old adage. Emma eked out a weak half-smile as she hovered her right hand over Killian's torso with her palm facing him. She closed her eyes to concentrate but she couldn't will the magic within her to come to the surface. She could feel the tingle of her powers just beneath her skin, but that was as far as they would reach. Something seemed to be draining the magic away from her right when she needed it the most.

"Damnit!" Emma exclaimed in frustration. Magic was failing her and she wasn't even sure why. Her gaze drifted downward to Killian's face as she lowered her hand to tenderly stroke his stubbled jaw, her touch trailing across his cheek and finally coming to rest on the patch of skin where his neck tapered into his shoulder. "I promise, we'll figure this out," she whispered to her husband's ear.

The last thing Emma would have suspected at that moment was that Killian, even in his unresponsive state, was about to provide the answer.

Killian remembered falling.

Perhaps he'd missed a step in the darkness and lost his footing, but then, no - he hadn't. He recalled that he'd paused and turned toward the voice in his ear and then he was tumbling down the staircase. He knew that his head was throbbing and his shoulder ached as if someone were trying to wrench it from its socket. Forcing his eyelids open, he also felt the twinge of discomfort in his left ankle and determined he would probably need David's assistance with some additional light to assess the damage. If it wasn't too bad and he could still put weight on it, he'd be content to hobble out of here and worry about the injured joint later, but if it was severely sprained or worse - broken, he would need Emma's assistance with a little reparative magic.

But it was as his eyes adjusted to the lighting, Killian began to realize that something was very different about his surroundings than before he'd fallen. First off, why was it so bright? Even if his lantern was still alight, it wouldn't be creating this level of brightness. Had he knocked himself out so severely that it was now morning? Second, why wasn't he hearing any familiar voices? He didn't hear Emma, nor could he hear David, which seemed highly improbable. If he'd been injured that severely, Emma wouldn't likely have strayed far from his side until he awakened - especially if he'd been unconscious for several hours.

A sudden trepidation enveloped him as he feared the worst - what if he'd broken his neck and was back in the bloody Underworld? But no, there wasn't a hellish red hue to this light and truthfully, he doubted that had he crossed over, his afterlife would still look like the vestibule of the Sorcerer's mansion. No, there was definitely something else afoot here, Killian thought as he struggled to sit upright, ignoring the protest of his battered skull.

All around him, there was a smoke-like haze which obscured the familiar details as he sought out the faces of his family or even those of the three adolescents they'd been tasked to rescue. Where were they? Certainly Emma wouldn't have abandoned him in this place…

"Captain Hook," Killian heard his title and moniker spoken clearly, the voice unknown to him. "We've been seeking someone like you for a very long time."

"Have you now?" Killian countered, his eyebrow lifting to match the smirk on his lips as he challenged the unseen speaker. "Well then, show yourself. I much prefer to be able to see those who address me."

"We're all around you, Captain," the disembodied voice stated, leaving Killian momentarily baffled until the realization struck him, his cockiness vanishing in an immediate recoil.

It was the light that he previously couldn't explain - the light emanating from these unseen beings he now sensed surrounding him.

"Who are you?" Killian demanded, his voice now wrought with a hint of fear as he tried to comprehend what had become of him. "What the bloody hell are you?"

"You've no need to fear us, Captain. So few exist who are able to see and hear us, which is precisely why we need your assistance."

"Assistance with what, pray tell?" Killian wanted to know, nearly certain that he must be hallucinating. The blow to his cranium must have been far worse than he'd originally believed. "What sort of game is this? And where are Emma and the others?"

"Still right here with us. They are merely on a different plane…"

"Different plane?" A confused Killian tried to wrap his weary brain around it all. Nothing was making sense. "What nonsense is this?"

"This is the inbetween," the being informed him. "The realm of souls trapped between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. These souls are left to linger as nameless, faceless spirits, unable to cross over. Most are cursed to remain here because their souls are incomplete and do not allow passage into the afterlife."

"Inbetween?" Killian's head was spinning as he contemplated the veracity of what he'd just heard. "Wait...are you telling me that I've died and became trapped here as well?"

"No, of course not. You remain among the living, merely in a comatose state in which we are able to communicate directly with you." The apparition's assurance wasn't exactly quelling Killian's unease. "You, however, possess a unique quality - you have crossed into the realm of the dead and were returned to the living. It has given you the ability to hear our disembodied voices and now, to see our unearthly form. We've been searching for someone such as you who could serve as our conduit to the living world so that we may inform them of our plight. We only wish to be freed from this form of purgatory."

"How would that be possible?" Killian wondered. "I've been to the Underworld, yes, but I found that the souls trapped there were encumbered by their own unfinished business. They don't generally have the intervention of the living available to them as I did. What do you believe is different about your situation?"

"Our souls were trapped in limbo because we all died here in this land without our hearts, and the magic that preserves those hearts prevents us from passing on."

Killian had to admit that he was surprised by the answer. He'd known that people whose hearts had been ripped out and crushed could pass into the Underworld - encountering some who would move on and others remaining eternally cursed, but he'd never imagined that a different fate might await those who had perished without their hearts within their bodies. He immediately thought of the dozens - maybe hundreds - of glowing hearts that Cora and Regina had collected over the decades of their respective reigns of terror. Were these illuminated beings now conversing with him just innocent victims of the Queen of Hearts and her daughter, the Evil Queen?

"How do you expect me to help you?" Killian asked, his mind wandering with far too many thoughts of how this conversation might even be possible. Was he really still laying in an unconscious heap at the bottom of the mansion's ornate staircase while his subconscious conversed with spirits of the dead?

"As I said, your unique ability to serve as our bridge to the living world allows them to hear us through you…" Before he could protest, Killian realized that the entity was encroaching on him, rapidly closing the distance as the light grew even more brilliant until it completely enveloped him, its presence seemingly blending into his own.