#this probably isn’t a new theory or whatever I don’t mean to sound like I’m the first person that ever thought about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zepskies · 2 years ago

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Never Say Goodbye - Bonus Track #2

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (18+)

AN: Did I say two parts? I meant three lol. (It got too long, I’m sorry.)

Word Count: 4,300 Tags/Warnings: Angst, supernatural shenanigans, death…

Bonus Track #2: One Last Hunt

“Okay, try not to panic,” Sam said. Dean had him on the phone while he sped through town in the Impala.

“I’m coming now, but I won’t get there for a few hours,” Sam said. “My flight leaves in 20 minutes.”

“Thanks, man, but I can’t afford to wait,” Dean said. “She fucking disappeared. I don’t see her anywhere…I’m gonna have to start at her job. That’s where she first took off from.”

“How did she seem this morning?”

“Fine, I guess. I left before she woke up,” Dean said. He still felt guilty about the fact that he didn’t bother waking you up to say goodbye.

“Okay, yeah, start at the museum,” Sam said. “Let me know what you find, and I’d loop in Bobby. Probably Jack too.”

“Bobby’s meeting me there…but we don’t need to bring in Jack yet.”

“Dean, he’s her dad—”

“This isn’t his thing. It’s ours,” Dean said firmly. “If it’s a demon, I’m gonna find her and exorcize that son of a bitch.”

Sure enough, Bobby met Dean at the museum where you worked. The old man was worried, Dean could tell, even if he wouldn’t say it. But he knew the drill: now they had a job to do.

“I’ll go in first, flash my badge,” Dean said. “Meet me in the library.”

“Roger that,” Bobby agreed.

Dean had a decent rapport with your boss, Jerry. When he explained that you were actually missing, Jerry was concerned for your wellbeing instead of irate that you’d taken a very valuable book from the museum.

It gave Dean a theory to lie about on the fly: that you’d been mugged and taken hostage, presumably by someone who might’ve wanted to steal the ancient text.

“How ancient are we talking exactly?” Dean asked.

Jerry gave him a look. “Ancient Egypt.”

He showed you the inventory log on the new shipment you were supposed to compile into the system. The title missing from the rest was called The Eye of Ra.

“All right. Thanks, Jerry,” Dean said. “Anything else you can tell me about this book?”

“It’s a recording of the great deeds of the Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses,” Jerry explained. “It was said to be touched by Ra himself.”

Touched by Ra, Dean mused. Ain’t that just fucking swell.

Whatever happened to you, Dean knew it was because you touched that book.

For the next few hours, Dean and Bobby worked together on deeper research in the library. Now that they had a starting point, Bobby was able to find some intel.

“The Eye of Ra was actually a nickname,” he said, earning Dean’s attention. “For Sekhmet, their goddess of war.”

Dean’s brows furrowed at that. “Why’s it never the goddess of peace and fucking tranquility?”

“Among other things, she was the daughter of Ra,” Bobby said, raising a wry brow. “And she was known as the bringer of plagues and death…and sometimes healing. Go figure.”

Fucking hell, Dean thought sourly. This was getting worse by the minute.

“Okay, what does this have to do with the book?” he asked. Though he had some idea.

“Well, she ain’t been alive in a millennium. But she had a husband. The god Ptah, a craftsman,” Bobby said. “According to this, when he was eventually killed, she sealed her soul away until she could find a way to rescue him from the underworld…I’ve gotta think she sealed it in that book.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the now aching spot between his brows. An ancient Egyptian goddess was most likely possessing his fiancé.

And it was much worse than it sounded on paper.

“Okay, which means she’ll be looking for a way to bring back her husband,” he said. “So how do we find her?”

Just then, the police radio buckled to Dean’s belt sounded off. When he listened closely, his eyes grew wide. It was a report of five murders committed at a nearby gas station.

Dean pulled up to the local 7-Eleven. Bobby was on the way, but he’d been caught up in traffic while Dean was allowed to use his police siren to his advantage.

He then used his badge clearance to get behind the yellow tape and over to Jack, who was still on duty.

Dean stepped inside the gas station and surveyed the brutal scene: the nice old man who owned the place, plus four patrons were lying dead.

Their skin was covered with boils.

Jack wore a disconcerted frown along with his crossed arms in his police jacket.

“It’s almost…biblical,” he remarked.

Dean knew just how right he was. Jack seemed to know that too when he glanced over.

“Is this your kind of thing?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “I might know what’s going on here. Let’s check the security footage…but no one else can see it but you and me.”

Jack nodded, leading Dean to the back of the store. Jack was shocked by what he found in the footage. Dean watched grimly, but not surprised as you came into the frame. You tilted your head at the owner, who seemed to ask you something.

You raised a hand, and with a flare of magic, everyone in the station was cowering and screaming as a plague of boils covered their bodies, and eventually ended their lives.

“Christ,” Jack gasped. “What the hell—”

“It’s not her,” Dean told him. “She’s being possessed. I’ll handle this, Jack. Just make sure this footage gets buried, along with whatever prints she might’ve left behind.”

Jack barely had time to agree. As if that kind of thing was so easy. He called after Dean as he took off out of the station.

Dean didn’t see Bobby yet when he got outside, but he didn’t have time to wait.

However, he did spot someone familiar hanging out in front of the department store across the street. Dean jogged across and raised a hand to flag down Jessie Deluca.

The kid was gnawing on what looked like a melting Butterfinger. He groaned in annoyance when he saw Dean coming.

“Not you again,” he muttered.

“Yeah, me again,” Dean said. “You been standing out here long?”

“Look, grandpa. I’m just chillin’ here,” the kid sassed. It sparked Dean’s irritation, as well as his impatience.

“I don’t give two shits if you’re contemplating the great Butterfinger Heist of 2008, all right?” Dean pointed back to the gas station. “You see that?”

Jessie’s expression faded from some of its assholeness, becoming more solemn. “Yeah, I heard someone died or something.”

“That’s right,” Dean nodded. “Did you see anyone walk out of the station?”

“No,” Jessie said. But Dean could tell it was a reflex, not the truth.

“Listen, Jessie. I need your help,” he said, more earnestly. “I’m trying to find someone. So if you know anything, I need you to tell me right now. Please.”

Dean stared down in the kid’s brown eyes. Eventually, Jessie relented.

“When I came out of the store here, I saw some business lady walk out. I think, after it had all just gone down,” Jessie confessed. “She looked fine.”

Dean sighed and nodded. “Okay. What’d she look like?”

“Uh…black skirt. Great legs,” Jessie said, his lips curving a little. Dean raised a brow.

“Anything else?” he asked wryly.

“White blouse, heels…actually, she kinda looked familiar,” Jessie added as he thought harder about it.

“Good. Now tell me what direction she went in,” Dean said. Jessie nodded and pointed him down the street.

“I think she went down there. I saw her turn the corner.”

“Where? What street?”

“Dude, I don’t know!”

“Then show me,” Dean insisted. He grabbed Jessie by the shoulder and guided him forward. The kid looked annoyed, but he begrudgingly agreed to lead him down the street. The two of them walked brusquely, with Jessie trying to match Dean’s longer strides.

Dean glanced over at his companion, who was still working on his Butterfinger.

“When’s the last time you ate something that wasn’t covered in chocolate?” he asked. Jessie didn’t look at him when he shrugged. His winter jacket hung off his skinny shoulders, making him look ten rather than thirteen. Dean’s heart twinged.

“Listen, next time you’re itching to knock over a department store for KitKats, come by the station,” Dean said. “Find me or my partner Jody Mills. Or even my boss, Jack. We’ll get you a burger or something.”

Jessie briefly looked up at him, but all too soon, his gaze returned to the ground.

“What do you care?” he said.

“Maybe I know something about having to fend for yourself,” said Dean. “Sometimes going hungry, not knowing when somebody’s gonna come back for you.”

Jessie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer, but Dean hoped he’d gotten through to him.

Jessie led him around the corner at the street he thought he saw you turn down. He and Dean didn’t have to walk too much farther before he found you through the window of a bakery, of all things.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered.

He pulled Jessie to the wall by the window for safety, but both of them snuck a peek inside.

You were once again wielding magic to spread a plague of boils across an entire room of screaming, agonized patrons just trying to get their donuts and cream pies.

Jessie started to utter a cry of alarm, but Dean quickly covered the kid’s mouth with his hand and pulled him back to his side. Dean waited, stock still, until the screaming inside the bakery subsided.

He looked down at Jessie and raised a finger to his lips. Though he was scared, Jessie nodded. Dean led him around the corner into an alley beside the bakery.

“What…the fuck was that?” Jessie hissed.

“Keep your voice down,” Dean warned.

Then suddenly, it donned on the kid as he looked up at Dean. “Oh, shit. That’s your freakin’ girlfriend.”

Dean let out a sharp sigh. “It’s not her…exactly.”

He knew Jessie didn’t understand. Dean sighed again and grasped Jessie’s shoulders.

“Look, you’re right to be scared. There’s something evil in there…that’s why I’ve gotta save her,” he said. “Now you, you’re gonna run. And don’t look back until you’re home, got it?”

After a moment, Jessie nodded shakily. Dean nodded back, patting him firmly on his shoulders.

“Good man,” he said. “Okay, scram.”

Jessie seemed reluctant, like he felt some type of way about leaving Dean behind. But at Dean’s encouraging look, Jessie took off running. Dean hoped he headed straight home.

Then, rolling his shoulders, Dean braced himself. He drew his gun, which was filled with silver bullets. He didn’t think it would work on an Egyptian goddess, nor did he want to pull a gun on you. But for the threat of it alone, he would have to draw it with the safety on.

He entered the bakery, where you were perusing the selections with a dispassionate look. All around you was death.

But you perked up when Dean entered, eyeing him curiously in recognition.

“Feelin’ a snack?” he asked.

“I have been asleep for a very long time,” you replied, holding up a pastry. “What is this confection?”

“Cherry Danish,” Dean supplied. “You’re Sekhmet, right?”

Your lips twitched. “You know of me?”

“I do now,” he said, carefully stepping further into the bakery with his gun pointed down, avoiding stepping on the bodies. He noticed the book you left closed on the counter. The goddess saw him noticing. Her gaze cut to him in amusement.

“Why’d you kill these people?” Dean asked. “Didn’t bow down at the right angle?”

“Among all of my brothers and sisters, I alone was favored by my father,” she said, “because my job was to balance the world, between life and the afterlife.”

Sekhmet brushed her fingers against a glass case, and with a small spark of magic, the glass cracked into thousands of fractals, but didn’t shatter.

“And I did exceedingly well at this,” she said. “Though I see that my work has been undone. This world is rife with imbalance.”

“Mass genocide. Nice,” Dean quipped. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

Sekhmet’s head tilted at him with reluctant interest.

“I heard you’re looking for your husband, who went an offed himself,” he added.

The goddess’s lips pursed and she slapped a hand on the glass counter, making it shatter. Dean turned and shielded his eyes with his arm. By the time he recovered, Sekhmet was coming around the counter. He took a few cautious steps in the opposite direction.

“My husband was unjustly slain by the very people who once worshipped us in droves,” she said, her tone exacting and harsh. Her eyes, however, were heavy with fury and pain.

“He was an artist. A creator in purest form…his talents were wasted on this abomination of a world,” she said, with disgust at her surroundings. But as soon as her anger came, it diffused into exasperation.

She picked up a glazed donut and took a bite, crossing her arms. She hummed in delight, making Dean’s brows raise.

“Well, I can help you find him,” Dean said. It was a bluff, to be sure, but it still earned Sekhmet’s attention.

“Can you?” she asked in amusement. She didn’t believe him. Yet. But she drew closer to Dean, tilting her head just so. All the while, Dean inched towards the far end of the counter where The Eye of Ra had fallen to the ground.

“And after, you let my girl go,” he said.

“You know of a way to reach the Underworld?” Sekhmet’s gaze roamed over him in disdain. “Unlikely.”

“Well, I’d call it a gate to Hell. But same difference, right?” Dean quipped.

The second he tried to reach down for the book, however, Sekhmet pinned him in place with a vibrant amber coil of magic. Dean grunted as she forced him to the ground, onto his knees between the bodies of a young man and woman, likely a couple.

The goddess stopped in front of him, looking down at his face with interest.

“Dean Winchester, as you are called. I understand why you continue to display such reckless judgment, all but throwing your very life at my feet,” she said. Her lips curved knowingly. “I hold your lover, correct?”

She harshly grabbed his cheek in her hand, and Dean glared in response. She seemed to ponder something as she considered him.

“Soon to be your wife,” she realized.

And Dean had a feeling she was in your head, sorting through your thoughts and memories like any demon would. He didn’t know what was worse: the thought of you being awake in there, unable to fight this bitch’s hold, or if Sekhmet had completely taken over your body and shut you away.

“Just let her go,” Dean said, almost pleading. “You can have me. I won’t even fight you.”

“Such self-sacrifice,” she said. “The only noble act humans are capable of.”

Before she could decide whether to kill him, or keep him for further amusement, the front door of the bakery swung open.

Bobby came in first, followed closely by Sam and Eileen.

Bobby was holding a damn crossbow, which he aimed and shot off at Sekhmet. It was a warning shot, just grazing her shoulder. But it burned her with a sting of flesh that made her hiss in pain. She glared up at Bobby, and after grabbing the book before Sam could, she disappeared in a whirlwind of magic.

The coil holding Dean in place shattered, allowing Dean to catch his break and get to his feet, with Sam’s help. Dean had to admit, it was good to see his brother.

“You okay?” Sam asked. Dean reached over and pat the other man’s shoulder.

“I’m good,” he said, though with a sigh that belied his weariness. “Hey, Eileen. Thanks for making it to the party.”

The pretty brunette offered him a sympathetic smile, rubbing his arm. “We came as soon as we could.”

Dean nodded and turned to Bobby, who still held his crossbow. He wasn’t happy about the old man shooting at you, but he recognized that it had saved his life.

“Why’d that thing hurt her?” he asked.

“The arrow’s dipped in a potent mix of salt from the Dead Sea…and Egyptian wine, among other things,” Bobby replied.

Dean frowned in confusion. “Why the fuck?”

“According to the lore, Sekhmet could be subdued with alcohol,” Sam explained.

“Great, we’ll just get her drunk and all our problems will be solved,” Dean quipped dryly. He grabbed the radio from his belt. His gaze returned to the dead bodies on the floor with dismay.

“I’ve gotta call this in. Bobby, get the security tapes.”

After Dean finished calling in the deaths to his precinct, he shared a disheartened look with Sam, who grasped his shoulder in support.

“We’re gonna find her, all right?”

They regrouped at Bobby’s house once Jack took over at the bakery. Now the three men and Eileen were congregated in the living room, trying to decide on their next move.

“You told her about the Hell gate?!” Sam said incredulously.

“Damn it, Dean!” Bobby slapped the coffee table in exasperation.

“All right, lay off! I was improvising under fucking duress,” Dean snapped. “At least we know where she’ll probably go next, assuming she finds out where the gate is.”

“She’s a goddess, Dean. One of the oldest and most powerful in ancient history. I’m sure she can figure it out,” Sam said, rubbing at his tired eyes.

And, as Dean remembered, Sekhmet was rooting around in your head. She’d find the gate for sure.

Eileen looked between the brothers, clearly worried. Sam had told her about what you, him, and Dean had gone through to close that damn gate to Hell last year.

“So how do we stop her?” Dean asked. Without hurting you, was implicit. Bobby heaved a sigh.

“We gotta burn that damn book,” Bobby said. “But we’ll need to be smart about it.”

So that was how the four of them ended up driving to southern Wyoming. They stopped along the crossroads by the train tracks, and ventured in on foot into the very clearing where their final battle against Yellow Eyes took place.

Dean thought he’d be able to put his past behind him, but the universe clearly liked to kick him in the balls.

Evidence of this came when he saw you standing at Samuel Colt’s gravestone. Or rather, the goddess Sekhmet.

She was expending large forces of magic to try and open up the gate to Hell. The book that bound her soul lied on top of a nearby headstone.

Dean gestured for Sam, Eileen, and Bobby to hang back and fan out, while he stalked forward. He’d changed out of his police uniform in favor of his familiar jeans, shirt, and a red plaid shirt, hoping that at least would help you focus on him, wherever you were deep inside your mind.

But he called out to Sekhmet from a (relatively) safe distance away.

“Are you stupid or something?” he mocked.

Sekhmet paused in her magic wielding. She craned her head over her shoulder at him in annoyance, with amber rings illuminating her eyes.

“There’s only one thing that can open up that gate, and I’ve got it right here,” said Dean.

He pulled out the Colt from behind his back.

Sekhmet’s gaze narrowed on the gun, then at Dean with a slow smirk.

“Why, by the gods, should I trust your foolishness?” she asked.

“Because we’re about to make a trade,” Dean said. “The gun for my girl. You let her go, or you’ll never see your husband again. In this world, or the next.”

Dean pointed the gun at her and cocked the safety back. She didn’t have to know the barrel was empty.

“You cannot harm me, even if there was ammunition in that weapon,” Sekhmet replied knowingly.

She turned to him and reached out with a magic-fueled hand, but before she could grab Dean, Sam shot his own gun.

It deployed a net of rope that twined around her frame and held her in place. It was soaked with the same concoction Bobby shot her with in the bakery, and it made her fume with outrage.

It didn’t completely weaken her though. Her hands were still free to fling Sam and Bobby away from her with magic.

She then turned to grip Eileen, who was nearly able to steal the book. And the goddess sent Eileen across the clearing, breaking a headstone as she fell.

Sam had been trying to pick himself up from the ground, but he gripped at his chest, feeling his soulmate’s pain. He scrambled over to her prone form on the ground and checked the cut along her hairline.

“Eileen,” Sam called, pressing his hand to her cheek. He had one eye on her, and another on his brother.

Because meanwhile, Sekhmet had broken free of the ropes holding her captive with a cry of fury.

Just in time to grab Dean by the throat when he tried to surprise her from behind. She forced him down to his knees and smirked in satisfaction as Dean struggled against her hold.

He called your name, trying to reach you through the goddess’s hold on your mind.

“She is gone from this world,” Sekhmet taunted. “This is but a vessel for my eternal soul.”

“I don’t fucking believe that,” Dean choked. “If she was gone, I’d know it. Deep in my bones I’d know it.”

Her mouth twitched, but she seemed to enjoy the idea of slowly choking him to death. Or maybe, something was holding her back. Dean could only hope it was you, trying to break through.

He looked into your eyes and tried to find you through the cold disdain of a goddess.

“Whatever happens, I’m not letting go,” he gritted out. He held tight to your wrist, on the hand wrapped around his throat.

“I love you, you know that?” he said. “From the start…you closed the door in my face when I tried to kiss you. Teased me. Never took my shit. But you never left me either. No matter how hard it fucking got, you kept my feet on the ground. You never called it quits…‘cause we never say goodbye. Right, baby?”

Slowly, slowly, Sekhmet’s hard exterior faded. The amber rings of magic receded from your eyes, and the woman he loved was there again, softening your face into shock and horror.

You released your grip on Dean. He stumbled to the ground as he coughed and gasped for precious oxygen.

He straightened enough to grab your hand. You reached out for him instinctively.

“Dean,” you said with shaking effort.

“I’ve gotcha, sweetheart,” he said. He turned back to see his brother helping Eileen to her feet. “Sam, the damn book!”

Sam snapped to attention and quickly looked for The Eye of Ra. It had been knocked over from the headstone onto the ground. He grabbed it and fished out a lighter from his pocket.

Dean’s attention turned back to you when you squeezed his hands.

“I can’t hold her for long,” you said tremulously. Your whole body was shaking. “She’s so damn strong…”

“It’s okay, we’re gonna fix this,” Dean said, brushing your hair back from your face.

You closed your eyes and gasped. But when you opened them once again, they were hard, and glowing with magic.

Sekhmet tossed Sam away from the headstone.

Dean tried to hold her back, but she backhanded him hard. Sekhmet followed where he fell. She reached out and gripped him by the neck again, this time choking him with a vengeance.

But then she gasped, as if in pain. She turned her head and found Sam with the book in one hand, and a lit match in the other. As the book started to burn, Sekhmet weakened.

Dean caught her before your body could hit the ground.

Sekhmet released a shaking breath; she gazed into the dimming sky, painted in its golden, amber hues, and knew that her soul was dying. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.

Dean almost felt sorry for her. Or maybe it was the sight of your pained, weeping face that tugged at his heartstrings.

“You’ll just have to join your husband this time,” he said.

Sekhmet’s lips trembled, but she nodded. “This world was never made for us…but we shall soon be together for all eternity.”

She looked up at him with a rueful smile.

“You understand,” she said. “A soul bond can never be destroyed.”

And with that, the haze of magic drained from your eyes as your body went limp.

Dean’s brows furrowed with worry as he called your name. Behind him, Sam helped Eileen draw near with a limping Bobby. All three watched with worry at Dean’s side…until your eyes opened, revealing their natural hue.

You took in a tremulous breath. “Dean.”

His eyes burned with emotion, but he closed them as he held you tight. All he could do was press his lips against your forehead in relief.

You clung to him right back, for as long as you needed to.

AN: Fun fact — According to Egyptian mythology, the only thing that could stop the goddess Sekhmet from ending humanity with bloodshed was by getting her drunk on beer, which had been dyed red to simulate blood (which she also liked to drink, apparently).

Egyptians (the survivors) would drink beer mixed with pomegranate juice and get drunk to celebrate not being killed dead. (Woo!)

Anyway, let me know if you enjoyed Part 2! All the fluff is coming in the finale of Part 3, very soon…

Next Time:

Dean brings you home. The two of you figure out how to move on from here...

Keep Reading: Bonus Track #3

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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269 notes · View notes

everlasting-rainfall · 3 months ago

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Do you know about the Imu and Vivi theory? It's basically yandere imu thirsting for Vivi and it's pretty compeling too like there is a solid evidence

So I haven’t seen the theory, but it sounds pretty straight forward. Yandere Imu is thirsting for Vivi.

I don’t doubt that there is solid evidence either as that does sound like it could be true. I mean, based on the things that we’ve seen of Imu? Yeah, I’d say that sounds very correct

Personally though, I have two theories that I’m leaning into, and they aren’t very good so don’t expect anything mind blowing. It’s below the cut because you know… SPOILER WARNING

But anyways…

BEWARE!! SPOILER WARNING!! DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU AREN’T CAUGHT UP!!

Anyways… Now that, that’s out of the way… Let’s get into it…

So basically I have two theories that I personally believe in. One more than the other, I don’t really have evidence for either though beyond “Yeah, that feels like it makes sense!”

Unfortunately I’ve never been too good at putting the pieces together. Hell, someone else had to tell me about the Garling might be Shanks Dad thing…

Not very good, I know… But that’s enough about me!!

So the first theory that I think might be going on between Vivi and Imu is that Imu is Nefertari D. Lili.

The theory is that Imu has been alive for so long that they are so focused on Vivi because they want her as a successor, or some shit like that. They want Vivi to become just like them.

The other theory is similar, but in it. Imu is getting old, and basically wants to use Vivi as a new body. Like completely take over Vivi’s body, and use it to continue living.

It’s personally the vibe that I’m getting from what’s going on currently. Plus it could make for some good angst too if it comes down to Luffy vs. Imu in Vivi’s body.

Like god, can you imagine how heartbreaking that would be? The Straw Hats having to fight against a dear friend of theirs. Except it’s not like they can do anything because it isn’t Vivi in there, it’s Imu.

Plus what if this is how Imu has been alive for so long? Unless it’s like whatever Imu’s Devil Fruit (Assuming it is one) is, causes an extended lifespan. They just jump into a new body whenever their current one gets too old.

This time, it’s Vivi who Imu will jump into.

Like I said these theories aren’t too great, and there’s probably people out there who could make them make far more sense than me.

Genuinely I doubt that I’m the first person to think of these concepts. And that’s okay, it’s not a bad thing by any means.

I’m only saying that there are people out there who likely have come up with these theories before me, so don’t credit me. Plus their versions likely make a hell of a lot more sense too.

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cerealmonster15 · 9 months ago

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listen people can have their differing opinions that’s cool I just Personally Feel Like it’s just so mean to be yelling that feedback such as likes on posts and a kudos on fics are “useless”. What do u mean. Why. are ppl not expressing their feelings in a way that makes them comfortable ? ?

Like I Understand i guess in the sense of you don’t get to hear peoples opinions. I also feel kinda lonely and stuff when it’s quiet feedback but calling anything useless sounds so WEIRD to me ??? What is the goal. And also yea they do something still I’m pretty sure????

Take ao3. Isn’t sort by kudos an option on there? If your goal is to be seen more or whatever then if people are looking for high kudos fics, then people giving ur fic a kudos isn’t useless yeah??

And then tumblr. People keep saying “likes do nothing here there’s no algorithm” or whatever but that’s not really fully true. On your standard dashboard, sure, likes “don’t do anything” to move a post around on there. BUT that’s not the only place people find posts. If u are looking in the tags for posts, im p sure the default is to sort by popular posts. That’s, as far as I understand, a TOTAL NOTES count. Likes are included. Likes help ur posts her higher in that “popular” zone. I have several posts that have ended up in there in some small ship tags BECAUSE of all the likes, which does still have people seeing those posts now and then when they’re in the tag.

AND I’m pretty sure it’s a similar mechanic for the for you page. I’m sure we think people don’t use that feature but I’m pretty sure people do/ maybe new users. This is more of a theory on my part lol buttttt. I’ve noticed a few rare times where I’ve made an addition to a reblog on someone else’s post, there will be a stretch of time sometimes where random people that Do Not Follow Me keep liking/reblogging the post via my addition. WAY more times for it to just be a stray person wanting it from my addition without comments under (and I don’t think people do that when they’re only liking the post lol). And the few times I’ve accidentally had my for you tab on, I believe it does show via other people’s reblogs lol. So that’s just my way of saying total note count INCLUDING LIKES probably does put posts in peoples eyes on the for you tab / my experience tells me people do use that feature so it’s not just sitting there dusty lol.

Anyway I like mostly understand why people want reblogs and comments, like I do prefer them too bc I like when people tell me what they r thinking (however sometimes people do not add their thoughts in the tags either and that is just how it is!). And I also understand some people maybe just don’t know that others like that kind of feedback and need to hear it first to feel encouraged. I think I just personally do not like the tone that a lot of posts have when they talk about it. When ur calling likes useless bc idk it’s not the right kind of feedback u wanted so it’s inferior ?? 😭😭😭 I also feel like that intense vibe like, idk if this makes sense or if other people felt it too, but it negatively shifted my own perception too? Like. I thought likes were fine. But now with how intense people are about them and not meant if likes bc they just don’t count in ur eyes, now when people like instead of reblogging, I just think of all those posts and I’m like “hmm ok is my post bad did I make a bad post bc everyone says the likes aren’t good so if I’m getting likes I made A Bad Post. It’s Pity Feedback” <- which is SO unhealthy and also tbh has a lot more to do with my own issues that are just getting influenced here so it’s not all on those posts lol. I just Also Have Extra Issues 🫡

Ok jeeze I don’t wanna sound soap boxy tho so I’m NOT letting people rb this aJsndjfcjfjfjcjfj and ppl can absolutely have different feelings and opinions about the situation it’s fine. this is just. how I feel ✌️

#I don’t wanna invalidate how ppl feel about it #and I hope ppl won’t invalidate how I feel either lol …#it just makes me SAAAAAAD it bums me out #I dont wanna feel like it’s all a numbers game #I just wanna share sillies :(#IT JUST FEELS HARSH!!!!!#sometimes I like a post so I can reblog later with tags #but I don’t always remember to do it #and then I’ll see a post that’s like #YOU HAVE TO REBLOG DONT LIKE AND RUN #and then I’m like well. I was gonna like and come back #but o don’t want u to get mad at me #but I don’t have time to add tags rn #so I guess I will just not interact at all ????#it’s way too stressful. why are there RULES 😭😭😭😭#and this is all coming from someone who reblogs and comments like mad. I go crazy #I am not a likes and kudos only person lol #but. it is in defense of them. don’t we all share our love differently #is that a crime 😭😭😭😭#ok I’m fully distracted I gotta go bye

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iwanthermidnightz · 1 year ago

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alskdj sometimes I smh at us as a fandom and also on the individual level how we lose our minds over her surprise songs on tour or each release of a rerecording we’ve already heard or seeing a paparazzi photo of her on a street in a new outfit.

it just feels like we fawn over her every move and I’m so done ngl

(also this isn’t directed at you specifically at all. I just know you’re reasonable and classy so I wanted to share my gripes lol)

I completely understand she deserves to own her work again and she’s doing that in a way that feels like it honors that, and I totally absolutely respect that. I just wish she would release them all at once and not drag it out… (respectfully).

also I’m just tired of the surprise-song-o’clock every night where we lose our minds over her performing a song we literally can listen anytime we want lol

I know it’s not serious but sometimes it feels like the fandom makes it so serious and I’m just like ✌️do your thing besties but I’ll sit this out, got better things to put my time toward

sorry for the random rant! no need to engage with it just idk 😮‍💨 had to tell someone

Hahaha I know. I think its just that its exciting for the possibility of her playing a song she’s never performed live before (for me on guitar), and songs she hasn’t played in a while or other maybe less appreciated songs stripped down. It really showcases how the most intricately produced songs are built from just her guitar or piano and sound just as great. There’s also the implications I guess of her saying she maybe picks songs that in her mind connect with each other? (I think thats what she said). I don’t put too much weight on it… but I can see how it keeps people engaged.

Also with the fawning, its because a lot of us are queer lmao 😭

With the rerecords, its the principle and I agree it honors herself and all the years she spent building what she did. For me, there’s something about hearing her record songs with her voice now that makes it so much better. I’ve played the originals over the years so many times that I memorize every part of it, and yet it’s somehow still special to experience it in this new way.

I think we knew she wouldn’t release them all at the same time. For many reasons I think. 1) it would be years before she finished recording them all 2) its fun for her and us to relive these eras and reminisce on what made them special 3) the marketing and margin for sales is too good to pass up 4) spacing the releases out feeds the constant frenzy of people always wanting content/music from her etc etc.

Overall I get what you mean. I feel this way too sometimes about easter eggs or elaborate theories that are most likely not probable which we are all guilty for. It may not seem like it but in a way I’m detached enough to be like “oh wow” and maybe get excited about something (some moments call for that) and then go about my day, this is a TS community after all. But many of us have been ‘chronically online’ since the debut days, its kind of engrained in us to at least care a little about whats going on even if from a distance. I get that its different for a casual fan. I also don’t think its helpful to make people feel bad for being excited. You never know what someone’s going through and this, whatever this is, could be the only thing keeping them afloat.

I guess what I mean is, theres nuance. At least for me. The value is connecting with people who share the same interests as you. Hope I’m making sense 🤍

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nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years ago

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Title: You Gotta Get Bigger: The Best of Holly Madison

Author: Holly Madison

Rating: 2/5 stars

Target audience: I'm not sure

Note: this isn't a very good book, but I don't hate it.

My rating is lower than the "average" customer rating, but I'm not sure why the average customer was expecting anything more than what this book provided. It's an enjoyable, light, slickly edited memoir of a woman who was a very successful Playboy bunny and is now some sort of media celebrity -- I mean she's not exactly Rush Limbaugh but she's got a solid place in the media.

My theory of the book is that the (probably ghostwritten) memoir part of the book is straightforwardly executed and charming in a predictable way. A reader who just wants a pleasant memoir about being a former Playboy Bunny and now a pretty well-off working single girl will like this book, I suppose, but when you put the "memoir" parts together with the "media celebrity" parts, the reader gets a book with an awkward, bizarre, scattershot "personality." When she's being interviewed, she writes or says stuff like "I don't really feel like I'm exploiting women in this new business venture . . . honestly. But I can see why a feminist would feel this way." To which the feminist reading the book may reply: "So you are exploiting women in your new business venture, but you're a woman so you're exempt from criticism?" But that's not really the point, is it? I mean, she's still just a single working girl (albeit with a TV show in the works), and she's still maybe exploiting women in her new business venture, whatever that business is. But it's not as if she's saying "I'm exploiting women right now, and I'm proud of it, and women who disagree can fuck off." It's more like . . . look, I don't know if there's some sort of "branding" component to what she's doing? The impression I get is "her job is to pander to a certain kind of viewpoint, and so when she panders she makes sure she sounds like she's making a real effort, and then she pretends to be confused as to why that is hard to square with being literally feminist in every way." I don't know, the whole thing is like . . . uh . . . it's not good, is what I'm saying, and I hope she stops doing it as soon as she possibly can.

So I don't know what's the best way to rate this kind of book, I guess. Do you give it the same score you'd give a book about an average guy who married an average woman and then piled his life into an average book? It's the same range of "quality," but the latter book won't have an annoying personality and seems less exploitative? I think I'd rather read the latter book, on reflection, but what does that mean in terms of "scoring?"

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magicalgirlfia · 4 months ago

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Analysis of Everything We Know About Unika

All >15 spoken words and 3 images of it. This is over 2085 words long.

Unika! She’s everyone’s favorite guilty gear catgirl! Or at least my favorite guilty gear catgirl. And the only catgirl. And also probably won’t wear her catgirl goggles for a majority of the series but whatever.

This will be a comprehensive analysis of her design and name, followed by theories about what it all means. Please enjoy this as it took me working on and off for 3 days.

Possible Name Origins:

I believe while her name could be in reference to the Filipino rock/pop band “ÚNiCA” or maybe New Zealand pop artist Anika Rose Moa who is also known as “DJ Unika”, due to the word unika/única being a real word in a a few languages, there are many artists who use the name Unika or Única in their discography. I picked the ones who seem most likely based off of my limited research but it could just be an original name with no music inspirations.

As mentioned, the word “Unika” is a word in different languages, specifically meaning “unique” in Esperanto and Swedish.

It is derivative of the Latin word for unique; unicus meaning “the only one”. The feminine form of that word is “unica”. Similarly, unica is also the origin of the Spanish feminine form of “único” (also meaning alone, [the] only one, or sole) is única. However, from my research, all these words use a “u” sound rather than a “yu” sound making the actual validity of all of that shaky, but I’m betting on it being her name origin if any of these are correct.

Please note that I’ve mentioned “Unica” as well as “Unika” for reasons that I will bring up later.

Design Analysis:

Weapon:

Getting the obvious out of the way, Unika’s big ass sword is an equally big ass AC/DC reference.

The design motif of “AC/43” just means AC/DC, with D and C being the 4th and 3rd letters of the alphabet. The word “thunderstruck” written on the sword is also a AC/DC song. (I know this is only for canon information and I should keep speculation to the speculation station, but an album by AC/DC is called “High Voltage” which connects to the lightning theme as well.)

This is all almost certainly because the origin of the name “AC/DC” is “Alternating Current/Direct Current” which are the 2 types of electric current, obviously in reference to her use of electric magic.

The number 13, specifically written in French, is a motif seen on both her weapon and her outfit as well. Also, as you might know if you know enough English to get this far you probably also know that the 1st and 3rd letters of the alphabet are “A” and “C”. It’s all connected IT’S ALL CONNECTED—

One of the treize has the text “Devil's Dozen” underneath it. A devil's dozen is just another term for a baker's dozen…being 13 items rather than 12.

The word “caution” if it is a reference will probably be nigh impossible to figure out given how common the word is. There isn’t an AC/DC song called caution, just one called “Danger” which is, let’s be honest, 100% unrelated.

Also, I would be remiss not to mention the fact that her weapon looks eerily like an electric version of the Junkyard Dog

which in my opinion makes the possible connections to Sol and his story…well…more. It can also shoot projectiles, similar to said Junkyard Dog or Outrage.

Clothing:

13 (or “Trieize” as again, it’s always written out in French) we just mentioned. The fact that it is in French could be interpreted as a connection to Illyria which contains France (yuck!) but I don’t actually completely know the significance yet.

The brand(?) Enide is seen a few times. Enide is a character in Arthurian romance, which it is mostly likely referencing, don’t have any clue what meaning (if any) it could have.

The two seen instances of Einde have text underneath them. One of them is just saying that she has a gen 4 tactical jacket which I very much doubt matters, and the 2nd says

“When lightning strikes, you will face your sin and one dawn will come”

Lighting obviously references the electricity stuff that I just spent a whole section talking about. However “One Dawn” is the name of Dizzy’s theme. I refuse to believe this is a coincidence.

There’s also something think could say “DRYCHEU”. From my extensive research, sans whatever google translate claims, this word means nothing because it doesn’t exist. However, a word that does exist is “drychau” or “mirrors”. Who knows, maybe the 3 line symbol is an A for…some reason. I’m a bit iffy on this one. The second 2 letters could be a 13 leaving us with “D13” (division 13?) but that would leave us with “ICHEU”. That’s the Middle English word for gnawing or chewing but I don’t know how that would apply here. I wanna make a Middle English connection here due to the reference to Einde, but I’m probably missing something here.

On her shoes we see the word “ENIGMA”. There’s a cube that looks like a stylized E. There are many things in this world called Enimga and is probably referencing one of those, or it is just in reference to how Unika is a weirdo. That’s all.

Speaking of “that’s all” there is a thing on her jacket that says “NEWDIV”. If I had to guess, “DIV” stands for “Division” however it might also be referencing the Linkin Park song “New Divide”, however that could be pushing it as there aren’t any other references to the band in her design.

Her shirt contains what can be presumed to be an acronym, T. E. O. C, with a little swoop and a logo that is a stylized combination of the aforementioned letters. What this could stand for is unknown as of time writing although further research has made me privy to The Edge of Chaos, a theory of a transitional space between order and chaos. The same site told me it was more likely to be about French eggs. The swoop looks similar to the other swoop on the treize shirt tag(?) but upside down…maybe the T stands for “Trize”? Who knows. The “E” could mean “enigma” for all the information we have, lmao.

Also, the way she’s holding her right hand seems to be the way to signal the number “3” in Germany and American Sign Language.

The final boss of the design notes:

this hunk of text (which gets its own section) in an extremely confusing font. Thanks to the transcription subreddit, specifically the users u/rhit06 and u/hypercubane who I feel deserve the credit here, what is said can be figured out. It reads:

“Unica

Division Treize

?VYUV? ?KDBK ?

Blood type unknown”

One of those things is not like the others but I will enjoy analyzing this frame by frame line by line because there’s a lot here!

Now, when I said that we’d get back to the reasons why I focused on the word Unica 611 words ago and that time is now because yeah, on here her name is listed as “Unica”. I largely suspect that it was just a previous spelling of her name, to which they changed the “c” to a “k” because it’s cooler .

Division Treize is probably a division she belongs to, being the 13th. This is why I believe that the “div” in “new div” stands for division, along with why she has 8 combined instances and counting of the number 13.

5 more to go until her design has 13 13s. I digress, because this basically confirms that she’s working for or worked with some sort of organization.

So. “?VYUV? ?KDBK ?” Indeed. Cryptology is a hobby of mine so I got super excited because my first thought was that is was a code to decrypt. Notice how hyped is in the past tense. Around 5 combined hours over three days of actually trying and around 2 hours more of brute force attempts later and I had to swallow my pride and give up and accept that it is definitely Splatoon-style gibberish and the only one who would pull some “hidden secret code in concept art” thing is probably me.

On to something more legible, “Blood type unknown” is interesting because the only characters who have that description are usually non-human in nature, however it could just be something to add to her mysteriousness.

So keep that in mind for…the speculation station! Which…this whole thing basically was, but I digress! Here’s some theories and inferences.

Speculation Station

What is Unika?

Unika is a girl (due to the language used and her general appearance I would assume she’s around 17-20 years old but I doubt we’ll ever get any confirmation on that). Besides her 2 jackets and turtleneck (she must be extremely cozy or extremely uncomfortable in that outfit) she has bright red eyes (hidden behind goggles except when they’re not) and a blue X in her hair.

She is also mysterious.

Now she’s probably not human because if she was it would be boring, but then the question raises: what is she? I am inclined to believe that she is a gear myself (most likely connected to the scales of juno) for a few reasons.

1. She has red and black lightning attacks extremely similar (if not identical) to Sin’s

2. Dizzy and Unika share a rather similar color scheme just based off of their little portrait icons.

3. This shot of Unika looks a lot like the one seen in Missing Link before the Justice boss fight. One glowing red eye and emphasis on a blue X

4. The tagline on the website is

“2 gears turn: towards destruction, or the future”.

As we don’t know any gears who currently want to turn towards destruction and the gear turning towards the future is most likely Sin (who I think is being referenced here for reasons I’ll write of later) or Dizzy…I think who seems to be the main antagonist makes sense as the gear inclined towards destruction, especially because no other character fits that bill currently.

5. As seen above, she has red eyes which is a trait all gears (and only gears up to now) share (barring special circumstances). She also wears goggles that hide her eyes (at least she will at first) which is probably something she would do if she didn’t want people to see her eyes, I think.

Admittedly I don’t have lots of solid proof but a few smaller things like her name possibly being in reference to a word for “alone” and wanting to kill all gears for being corrupt biological weapons are all things that we’ve seen before in a previous protagonist character.

I feel like this analysis wouldn’t be complete if I did not mention that she might be the Happy Chaos Valentine which was my thought before the first trailer came out, and I was very much not alone. “Happy Chaos” was the original name for the Valentine created by Asuka to kinda do what Jack-O did for Aria but for I-No. This name was stolen by Gun Smurf Jesus and the Valentine/the fact he stole their name is mentioned exactly once in Strive’s story mode. They are currently unfinished and unawakened in the backyard.

Due to sharing a few design quirks with Asuka’s Xrd Sign design (like the hair X and sort of cat ears) and being a character that sure did exist with no other given details…I feel it’s a pretty understandable conclusion to come to considering just how little we have about them and how little information we have about Unika.

Also, she’s wearing orange and blue (Happy Chaos colors!) which I think is important. Also, you know. Edge of Chaos and shit (which I’m not confident enough to actually present as proof but I wanted to throw it out there) I will say that given that and the design similarities to Asuka if she’s not a gear, I’m betting on her being the original Chaos.

Who is Unika?

I don’t know, but she’s definitely connected to Dizzy in some way. Possibly created by whatever group “T. E. O. C” is. She might be some sort of failed attempt at a Justice or Dizzy clone? A gear created to kill other gears by a group of people who would really like to do…that and thus was cloned from one of the most powerful gears in order to create a being who could match their abilities. Either that or she’s going rouge, but I’m more inclined towards the former. This is largely based on themes and ideas brought up in past GG games however, so take it with a grain of salt (like all of this).

Why is Unika?

I think that she’ll act as a foil to Sin. It says on the website that “their meeting will shake the world” and they say the title of the show and the release date at the same time. Given Sin’s whole track record of befriending terrorists who want him, his family, and many more dead, I think that Unika won’t stay evil forever. Honestly the real evil is probably going to be whoever she’s working for (if my theory that she’s working with a group is correct).

Conclusion (Finally)

Due to Sol Badguy: Guilty Gear now being Fredrick Bulsara: Gear. We need another Guilty Gear for the title to still make sense! And with the series “main character status” being passed on to Sin who is NOT guilty, I think Unika is going to be the Guilty Gear Strive Dual Rulers.

The end and thank you for reading

#I have never obsessed over a character before. And the first character who I fixate on has only like. Three known personality traits #and those traits are being racist mysterious and girl.#there is definitely not a better way I could be spending my time right now /s #Yes I have autism how could you tell #What I’m saying is that Luna Goodgal might be real.#guilty gear #dual rulers #guilty gear strive #ggstrive #ggst #ggstdr #unika guilty gear #fia says things #…like a lot of things #now that I’m finished I just looked at this and went ‘why’#I don’t regret it though I think

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veinsandknuckles · 2 years ago

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Reflect what you are, pt 2

Abed Nadir/Autistic f!Reader. In love and at a loss, Abed turns to self professed woman-expert Jeff Winger for advice with mixed results. Part 1 Rated: pg Warnings: casual ableism, casual sexism, autistic stereotypes, reference to the The Big Bang Theory. If I’ve missed anything, let me know. This fic hasn’t been BETA’d. As a disclaimer, I’ll say upfront that the reader insert’s experiences with and outward signs of autism are based on my own. It’s always impossible to write a reader insert neutrally enough to be projected onto by everyone and I think that’s especially true when portraying a disability that is at once so specific and so varied. ——–

“...I think I’m in love.”

“Really.” Jeff didn’t look up from his phone.

Abed wasn’t sure why he’d picked Jeff as the right person to talk to. Perhaps it was just because Jeff had lingered in the study room after their last session, leaving them alone in the room, and if Abed didn’t tell someone, anyone, he might literally explode. “Yes. Definitely. I show all the classic signs.”

Jeff didn’t respond. Had his sarcastic, disinterested tone been more pointed than usual? It was hard to tell.

“Did you already know I’m in love?”

“With what’s-her-name, your new study buddy?” Jeff gave Abed a look. “Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

“Oh.” Abed tapped his pen against the table and thought this over. “Do I talk about her a lot?”

“Not really, but we know you. It’s pretty suspicious if you take an interest in anyone who isn’t a fictional character.” Jeff put his phone down and leaned his elbows on the table. “Does this mean you’ve finally come to me for dating advice? It’s about time.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t need advice...”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Because women throw themselves at you, for some reason.” He sounded resentful. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And usually I don’t really care either way.” Perhaps this wasn’t the best approach if he wanted Jeff’s help, but it was the truth. “I mean, the attention is nice, but it’s not important.”

“Well, if you’re ‘in love’” (here, Jeff made so many air quotes he threatened to sprain a finger) “that’s a whole different story.”

“Yeah. I’d be pretty upset if she didn’t like me back.”

“I’m sure. So what have you tried so far?”

“Hm.” What had he tried? Shockingly little, now that he came to think about it. “I’ve talked to her a little. We’re working on a project together for class. Oh, and yesterday I threatened to beat a guy up for disrespecting her.”

There was a long pause. “See, this is why you should come to me for inspiration instead of turning to the movies.”

“Yeah, but it was warranted. He’s a bully.”

“Yeah, but still. I never figured you’d go for the caveman approach.”

Abed shrugged. “I don’t really have an approach.”

“Yeah, we established that. So what’s this girl like?”

“I think she’s autistic.”

Jeff’s eyes widened and his mouth seemed to twitch. He didn’t make a face, but it seemed to take him some effort not to make a face. What was he trying to hide? Surprise? A lack of surprise? Amusement? Ridicule? Probably not envy, but what did Jeff know?

“Abed, that’s not a very nice way to sum up a person. We taught you better than that.”

Abed had it on pretty good authority that Jeff had pointed him out to strangers as ‘the robot’ and ‘just don’t call him Sheldon’ several times just this month, but for some reason, people tended to get uncomfortable if the spade joined in and also started calling itself a spade.

“Okay, this is clearly a sensitive issue for you. If I tell you she’s also beautiful and funny and attentive and kind and clever and beautiful, does that make you feel better?”

“That’s a pretty long list.” Jeff smiled. “Beautiful made it in twice, huh?”

It was a fair summary as far as Abed was concerned, repetition included, but Jeff needed to be brought down a peg or two.“I thought that would reassure you.”

Jeff stopped smiling. “Whatever. So if you care so much about her supposed personality, what do you guys actually have in common? Apart from, you know. The A word.”

“I’m not sure. We both pay attention in class, so we already have some similar interests.”

“Okay, so get her talking about those. Women love it when you pretend to care about their dumb opinions.”

Abed was very much convinced that this was not an uniquely female trait and he knew that if he chose to make a rebuttal, Jeff himself would make for an excellent exhibit A. But Jeff depended on his 90’s stand up comedian understanding of gender roles and it would be unfair to take that comfort away from him. Instead, he chose diplomacy. “If she has dumb opinions, I’ll lose interest. Even if she’s beautiful twice.”

“Yeah, you’re weird like that.”

“But I get shy around her, and I’m not used to being shy. I try to plan our conversations in advance, but then when I talk to her I forget everything I was going to say... And I don’t want to pretend to be someone else.”

“You’re overthinking this. Just go up to her and talk, ask more questions than you give answers and if she smiles and laughs at your jokes...” Jeff thought about it, then shook his head. “Huh. Yeah, I see the problem. You still can’t really read anyone. Even I can’t read you and I’m a master manipulator who’s known you for years. If she’s like you...” He seemed at a loss for words. “Don’t you have, like, a secret language or something? Bleep, bloop, Star Trek good?”

How should Abed know? It wasn’t like he’d been ushered into a secret society or subscribed to the local autism mailing list. Maybe there actually was a club and he just hadn’t been invited - that would be a fun, ironic twist. “Not one I know of.” The trekkie accusation he filed away for a later argument.

“Alright. So, when she’s happy or annoyed or on the rag, can you even tell?”

“I think so.”

Abed worried that Jeff misinterpreted the reason for his interest. He couldn’t tell if Jeff wanted to over or under emphasise the autism part, but he could tell Jeff didn’t get it. Sure, it was exciting to meet someone who functioned the way he did, but not because he expected or even wanted you to be a copy of himself. He wasn’t looking for the comedy staple where the weirdo, slash robot, slash dog’s love interest was played by the same actor, slash costume, slash dog in a wig or a pink bow. He was just as desperate to explore all your differences as your possible similarities, and the disability thing was just a small part of that. And he’d underplayed the “beautiful” part, but your mind really was not the only thing he wanted to explore. After all, you’d already turned his head months before he’d realised what you shared.

It dawned on Abed that he really would be just as excited to talk to you if the topics you chose made no sense to him - whatever you said would interest him, simply because you were the one talking. And if he ever accidentally tuned you out, he’d be happy just to watch your lips move.

How could he even begin to explain all of this? Or any of it? If Jeff had ever felt the same way, he would never admit to it.

“She emotes a lot.” By Abed’s standards, anyway. “I don’t think most people can really tell she’s autistic.”

“Why are you so fixated on this?”

“Well, in this case, I mean I think she’s more of a people person than I am. She blends in better than I do and that would take a lot of practice.” He paused. “I never really made friends before I got to Greendale, but...”

“You’re worried you might have some competition?”

Abed shook his head. If anything, competition would be reassuring. But why? “I don’t want her to like me because she has no other option. I want her to choose me.” If that was true, why did admitting it make his stomach feel so cold? Abed swallowed and voiced a fear he hadn’t even been conscious of before. “I’m worried I might be too weird for her.”

Now Jeff made a face even Abed could recognise, if only because he’d seen it so often over the years. It was a face of pained, awkward pity.

Abed was seriously starting to regret being so honest, especially with someone who clearly still expected him to be more ashamed of himself than he really was.

But Jeff surprised him and his expression changed gradually into a less familiar smile. “Yeah... I think we all feel like that sometimes. I mean, not me, obviously.” Abed nodded and Jeff continued. “I hate to be a cliché, but if you absolutely have to be in love, I really think you should just try to be yourself. If she doesn’t like you, it’s better you rip the band-aid off quickly.” He reached out as if to give Abed a pat on the shoulder but seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall. “Who knows, she might like you better for being a bit weird - I know I get sick of hanging out with normal people all the time. Whatever that means.”

Abed nodded. Especially the band-aid argument appealed to him. Right now he felt that if he didn’t either get to touch you or let go of this obsession within the week, he’d just wither up and die. Wow. He might actually have to resort to a weekend of 80’s rom coms, either to look for inspiration for some big dramatic gesture of his own, or to do what most people probably did when they watched rom coms - daydream about his own crush and imagine you and him up there on the screen instead, kissing and holding on to each other for dear life while the music swelled and the rain pored. This was so much worse than he’d thought.

#abed nadir #abed nadir x reader #abed nadir imagines #abed nadir imagine #community #community fanfiction #my fics #abed nadir fanfic #still can't promise I'll finish or even continue this fic because I'm usually swamped these days #but since this part was practically finished I figured I'd dust it off and post it

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high-dragon-bait · 2 years ago

Text

Some theories/guesses for what our Dreadwolf protagonist title might be!

We’re all curious what our Dreadwolf (finally don’t have to say DA:4!!) protag’s title will be like Warden, Champion, Inquisitor, and I wanna throw some guesses out there based on what we know. I doubt any of these will be the title, but it’s fun to imagine

We know our protagonist is meant to be someone that Solas “doesn’t know” and “will never see coming.” They’re someone without power or any innate abilities. Average Joe. Which is also what Hawke was so idk why they’re acting like this is new for the series but that’s no here nor there TITLES

With that knowledge, here are some ideas:

- The Infiltrator - This one is my personal favorite so we’ll start with this! I have actually been quietly referring to the DA:D (heh) protagonist as “The Infiltrator” in my head for months just because I got tired for calling them “My future protag.” Given that some of the descriptions imply we may be some sort of spy, “Infiltrator” would be fitting. Infiltrate Solas’ ranks. Infiltrate Tevinter’s hierarchy. Maybe even infiltrate the Inquisition itself if it still exists and we’re allowed to side with Solas. It’s descriptive and it sounds cool and I think it’s the most likely to be the one that would be picked if I were to present this list to Bioware.

- The Shadow - This one is pretty generic but does sound cool. Again, it goes off of the implication that we’ll be a spy, but what I’m really going for here is a sort of “Shadow of the Inquisitor” idea. Your Inquisitor can’t directly go for Solas, he knows them too well, but he doesn’t know their “shadow.” The part of them that walks in the dark, that’s unseen, unknown. And it carries meta as well, your “Shadow” would definitely have the larger role in this game, but they’ll be trapped in the shadow of the Inquisitor. Juicy! But I don’t love this one, it’s generic, but would be nifty.

- The Hunter - The edgiest option! Haha! This one relates to both the fact that we are hunting for information, probably hunting for slavers, but mostly is just a play on “wolf hunter.” This one isn’t that deep. You’re the Hunter! You’re hunting down Solas! Beat his ass when you get there!

- The Heretic - My second favorite after “infiltrator” but also the one I think is least likely to happen, but GOD it would be so cool. Imagine an opening cutscene with your Inquisitor and their advisors (not for too long tho you may cry) and Cullen says one of the above “We need an Infiltrator/Shadow/Hunter” like that’s cool those are all real jobs and sound neat but can you imagine him saying “We need a Heretic” that is just so BADASS. I love it because it’s just so JUICY in terms of lore and symbolism. You’re committing heresy against the Maker, against Tevinter, against Solas, it’s just PACKED FULL of meaning. AND it offers an absolutely DELICIOUS parallel between the Inquisitor and the new protag who we’re all pretty sure will have to be working closely together. “The Herald and the Heretic.” How catchy is that. That’s Varric’s next book.

That’s it! Not too deep, just me having fun. I’m sure whatever the actual title will be I’ll love it, but it’s fun to wonder till then

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Dreadwolf #Dreadwolf #Dragon Age: Dreadwolf #DA:D #DA:DW #DA4

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insertdisc5 · 3 years ago

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Hi!! I wanted to ask, in celebration of Deltarune CH. 2, do you have any updated thoughts and head canons about the game?? Like, y'know, similar to a previous ask about Kris in your Deltarune tag? Thanks!

thoughts on kris part 2 i guess???? (part 1 from ch1 here lol)

spoilers for deltarune like woah. this wont be kris focused just random thoughts on everything. thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk

not that many thoughts for this chapter tbh! EDIT LOL: this was a lie i have a lot of thoughts

-just in general i feel like the player isn't the only one controlling kris... like yes the player forced kris to do what happened in the snowgrave route but AT THE SAME TIME idk it feels like there's someone else too. just because of the terrifying voice i suppose. and also the jerky movement kris does every time they get their soul out? unless there's another reason for it... maybe getting your soul out means you walk weird lol

-BUT ALSO i feel like kris is 100% in control when they create fountains. idk it just makes sense kris would create them. to create another world, a better world, A WORLD WHERE THEIR BROTHER IS HERE PERHAPS? i do wonder why they get their soul out then though. i'm all for it sweetie! do whatever! i support you!

-(i am and will be playing deltarune with only kris' best interests in mind. i will not hurt anyone unless kris wants me to. dont worry my little meow meow im on your side! talk to me! no? okay ill stay under the sink its fine)

-speaking of asriel. SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER VACATION COLLEGE WHEN? SUMMER (starts crying) V-VACATION COLLEGE WHEN

-kris misses their brother so much it's so sad. if you make kris steal 5$ from asriel they take it "reluctantly"? talking to asriel online so often even alphys knows?? the google search?? GOING INTO ASRIEL'S GOOGLE SEARCH ROOM WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED BECAUSE THEY'RE CONVINCED THEY ALREADY KNOW WHATS IN THERE? THAT ONE IS LESS OF A MISSING THING BUT IM LIKE OH MY GOD

-the city walk with susie at the end makes it clear to me that kris really values susie's friendship... kris even sits with her if you spend long enough near the lake like aaaaah ;_;

-and even in snowgrave you spend your last acts with the final boss calling for your friends like YES there's a way bigger creepy aspect to this (kris as more of a Leader who Commands and commands their subjects to come) but still :'0 (and then noelle answers oh my god noelle im so sorry for the trauma)

-berdly. listen. listen. listen. liste

-berdly sucks but [berdly hurts his arm in the battle against queen if you don't save him because he doesnt want to hurt you] [berdly realizing smg's wrong in snowgrave and immediately taking steps to save noelle] berdly is my little crumb nugget. i will protect him.

-noelle. noelle. girlboss!

-like ooooh listen. hearing about the genocide path for undertale. made me go "that is SO COOL. i HAVE to experience it myself this is great. hehehe killing time" and like no regrets. i was fully enjoying the experience knowing i was an awful person. SNOWGRAVE THOUGH. i will never try this myself its too fucked up. casually grooming your childhood friend to murder people <3 and also acting like a weird stalker towards her <3 stockholm syndrome speedrun i will get all the info i can about this but i will never do this myself

-people remarking the kris/player>noelle relationship is similar to the relationship between player>chara in genocide path is like yes. chefs kiss. don't worry we just are making you stronger and everything will be fine "you made me kill my friend? and for what?" this is fine sweetie don't worry about it!!!!!!

-like the amount of details added to snowgrave, like if you equip noelle's watch she notices later? and her battle animations change as time goes on, she gets an ice shield and stops sighing in relief after battle? oh my god? oh my god.

-(berdly is not awake.) JUST KILL ME RIGHT HERE I HAVEN'T STOPPED THINKING ABOUT BERDLY NOT BEING AWAKE!!!!!

-also why didnt he turn into dust. so many possible reasons. is magic a thing in the normal world and perhaps no magic means no dust (theres graves). maybe he isnt dead. maybe hes braindead. maybe he'll come back. either way that boy is now in the closet big enough to put someone in

-also dess' name probably being december AND THATS WHY NOELLE LOST THE SPELLING BEE?!?!??! FUCK ME UP!!!!! JUST FUCK ME UP!!!!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

-also so many good pixel art this chapter. too many? i didnt need pixel art of cardboard noelle falling on the statue. like thank you but please. please it hurts my game artist brain.

-the expressions in this chapter were also top notch. all the unsettling noelle expressions like (i fall over face first)

-i threw away the ball of junk (which i already tried in ch1) and this time the game was like "ARE YOU SURE BC THIS IS A BAD IDEA" and kris felt bitter :'( (it deletes all your items in the dark world)

-i uh fucked up and skipped the susie+noelle scene bc listen last time ralsei mentionned seeing what susie is doing we missed some PRIMO LORE. turns out it just makes you skip the scene and you dont get anything new. welp

-speaking of ralsei well you know. he exists. but im stuck on him going "i just wonder what being ralsei-like even is...?" ralsei my dude there's so much i could say about this. do you feel like you can't be ralsei-like because you feel like you have to be asriel-like

-but also that makes no sense bc susie hasnt even mentioned ralsei looks like asriel. and i cant imagine asriel being so meek. so WHAT GIVES

-ralsei as kris’ “i wish i was a monster just like my bro and family and i’d look like asriel but with red horns [THE HALLOWEEN COSTUME] and my name would be something cool like ralsei instead of a boring human name like kris and im sweet and cute because thats how i act with asriel because ASRIEL MADE ME” theory because that would be cute.

-ASRIEL GOING TO THE CHURCH TO CONFESS HIS "SINS" WHEN "SINS" AREN'T A THING IN THE ANGEL BELIEF LIKE I KNOW THIS INTERACTION WAS TREATED AS A JOKE BUT WHAT THE FUCK ASRIEL?

-kris definitely has a connection with the big red door in the city, judging by what the kids say they probably went there... i feel like this place's dark world will be the Final Dungeon you KNOW some shit happened there. also the sounds you hear when you go there is the phone dark world call's sound slowed down? AND AFTER SNOWGRAVE APPARENTLY YOU CANT HEAR IT ANYMORE? HUWAH?

-speaking of songs the songs were all so good, My Castle Town rules, the berdly snowgrave music is stuck in my head, flashback is uwah wuahah, Until Next Time is so good, AND ALSO A FRIEND NOTICED THE DARK WORLD CITY THEME IS JUST tHE SONG 74 (MOST NOTICEABLE WITH THE SNOWGRAVE VERSION)?????? WHAT DOES IT MEAN????? it might be just "hey its just reuse" BUT MR FOX YOU KNOW WE'RE GONNA READ INTO THIS IS NOELLE THE ONE SINGING IDK BRO!!!!!!!!!!

-asgore dreemurr fired from the force what happun!!!!! game theory is that asgore is related to dess' death/disappearance but eh who knows

-you start the chapter at lvl2 and get to lvl3 after the final boss, a friend mentioned this is probably because we destroyed a world and im :0

-to go back to kris it's still so interesting to figure out who they are based on how they act/people mention them. like kris shaking the ferris wheel car? yeah makes sense i can imagine a pranking kid do this. kris' dance? yeah thats a little silly but i can buy it. doing cool anime poses? well i dunno this doesnt line up PERFECTLY but sure. BUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN SNOWGRAVE... especially >proceed like that is such a weird thing that i can't imagine them doing, but i can't completely see the "player" doing either (compare with going to sans -which kris doesnt know- and going "SANS!" because of course the player would know sans), like THATS one of the reasons i feel like there's someone else in there. the weird robotic merciless actions. if im going super meta it feels like there'd be someone else like writing the choices into existence for us to pick you know? gaster probably? god i need to read more gaster theories i completely sidestepped the gaster shit bc i wasnt interested. anyway just spitballing

-(looks at big shot guy) please dont make him the next tumblr guy i beg you

-obligatory "queen was great" mention if only because this part made me laugh a little bit too hard

that was a lot. thank you for letting me talk

#ask tag #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #snowgrave spoilers

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

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hi val can you maybe write something about the reader being dared to kiss peter/tom/arvin (you choose) since her friends knew that she has a big crush on him, but once she did he seems disinterested after which makes her sad, but what she doesn't know was after she kissed him, he practically runs to his friends freaking out that the girl he's had his eyes on this whole time just kissed him??

kiss and tell

w/c: 1.8k

warnings: like one swear and awkwardness

a/n: yeeee i went with peter! this is adorable :,)

“i can’t!” you scold betty and her annoying smirk. you’re bored at lunch, so liz suggested the three of you play truth or dare. you’d made the mistake of choosing dare. in your defense, betty is the nosiest person in all of midtown, so you thought you were dodging the bullet and guarding your deep dark secrets. how could you have known she’d make you do... this?

“that’s so, like, forward. he’s gonna freak out.” you glance over at peter’s table to see what he’s up to before you possibly scar him. he’s laughing along at a heated conversation ned and mj are having. the way his face lights up, and his eyes crinkle as a smile crosses his features, it gives you butterflies throughout your whole body.

“in a good way,” liz grins her most charming grin at you. it’s not working this time. you roll your eyes up to the ceiling. “i thought you liked him,” betty huffs, gesturing over to peter and keeping her eyes on you. “all you do is talk about how he’s so cute and smart, and his lips look so soft-“ “i never said that!” you look at her with wild eyes. liz bites her lip to hold in a laugh. “the last part, i mean,” you clarify in a murmur.

liz puts a hand on you and pats your shoulder knowingly. “you’ve probably thought it, though. i’ve seen you checking them out.” there have been quite a few times your gaze has landed on peter’s lips, watching them curve while he talks to you about some new science theory he’s excited to share. you end up zoning out and pretending you retained any of what he said. betty puckers her own lips at you.

“you wanna kiss him,” she insists in a sing song voice, resting her chin on your other shoulder. “i’m doing you a favor.” “you’re really not gonna change the dare?” you sigh, your friends leaning on you in support. liz taps your cheek. “so, you don’t wanna kiss him?” “there’s no way,” betty comments from your side. “no, i...” you start, focusing in on peter again.

he meets your eyes across the cafeteria. his smile fades slightly, then a shy one is replacing it, ned dragging him into his and mj’s debate. you turn back to liz and betty.

“i do, but do you think he wants me to?” you ask them both, and they share a you have to be kidding look. “only one way to find out.” liz gives your shoulder a nudge. betty beams at you. “i triple dog dare you now, so you have to.” considering your options, you bounce your leg up and down. you’ll either get the nicest rejection ever from peter or a kiss back. you can handle this.

“ok, i’ll do it,” you decide, betty clapping her hands and squealing. liz throws an arm around your neck. “yay! i love love.” “let’s calm down,” you giggle so she doesn’t get too carried away. you and peter haven’t even established that you like each other. “i’m calm, i’m calm. do you need to borrow chapstick?” she offers, betty simultaneously pulling a tube out of her purse. “or lip gloss?”

you’re appreciating their over involvement now.

“both,” you breathe out, letting them get you ready for your big kiss.

liz and betty send you good luck wishes in a hushed tone while you make your way to peter’s table. mj went to get a snapple, and ned went with her so they could continue whatever argument they’re in. that left peter by himself. it’s almost like this is meant to happen.

“hi,” you greet peter, making him look up at you with raised eyebrows. he notices right away that your lips are shiny, more so than usual. a color that you always seem to bring to his face takes over his cheeks. “hey. you wanna sit?” he gives you a small smile. you return it. “yeah, sure. thanks.” instead of taking the bench across from him like he assumed you would, you find your place next to him.

he doesn’t mind.

“how’s your day been?” you wonder, body turned towards him while he answers. peter scrunches his nose. “kinda busy. i got so much homework in spanish tonight, and i’ve been putting off this essay about...” you do the thing you do every time he goes off on a sort of tangent, watch his lips. lucky for you, that’s the whole point today. “i don’t know. all i have so far is the intro-“

you cut peter off with a kiss. liz and betty cheer to each other the second it happens. peter doesn’t move, only freezes up as you press your glossy lips to his and grab his shoulders. it takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s not kissing back. his arms are stiff at his sides, eyes wide in shock. absolutely humiliated, you pull back, moving as far away as you can.

“fuck, i’m sorry. i should’ve asked you first,” you apologize, voice shaking. you’re already getting to your feet. peter blinks a few times, grounding himself back in the moment. “no, no. it’s okay. i-“ “that was weird, i know. you don’t have to lie or make me feel better.” he furrows his eyebrows, in a way that seems regretful even though you’re the one who messed up. “i’m trying to tell you, y/n. it’s fine. we-“

ned’s voice fills the room, making you snap your head in his direction. him and mj are coming back. you need to get out of here before you embarrass yourself even more.

“i’m gonna go. i’m sorry,” you mumble out, running back to your table, where liz and betty are instantly asking what’s wrong and if you’re alright. peter licks his lips that are now coated in your gloss and clenches his jaw. he’s pissed. not at you, at himself. it’s clear because mj brings attention to it when she sits down.

“what’s up with your face?” she narrows her eyes at him, popping the cap on her snapple. ned elbows peter in his spot next to him. you were just there less than a minute ago. “you okay, dude?” he checks. “no.” peter closes his eyes in frustration. “what’s wrong?” ned kicks mj’s foot under the table so she’ll stop making out with her drink and help him.

“i... y/n kissed me,” peter admits, sounding oddly upset about something everyone knows he’s been hoping would happen. “she what?” ned gawks. “isn’t that a good thing?” mj points out. “you love her.” “like her,” peter corrects and chews the inside of his cheek. “whatever. shouldn’t you want her to kiss you?” she takes another sip of snapple, passing this off to ned.

“yeah...” is all ned says. he awkwardly rubs peter’s back while mj tries not to snort. “that’s not the problem. i didn’t kiss her back, and she took it as me not being into it,” peter shakes his head as he recounts your weird moment. “which i was,” he tells them for the record. ned makes a funny face at him. “so why didn’t you kiss back?” “no shit she ran away,” mj mutters to him. she saw that part.

“because i wasn’t expecting it!” peter frowns at his friends’ reactions and at what he did. “you guys know how much i like y/n. i can’t believe i screwed this up so bad.” mj squints in mock confusion. “i can.” she quickly drops her sarcasm for encouragement after that. “ok, seriously. just go find her and apologize.” “maybe kiss her this time,” ned chimes in.

“if she really likes you, she’ll get it.” mj smiles genuinely, nodding back at your table. ned gives him a push forward. “you got this, dude. come tell us all about it after.” a rush of confidence enters peter from their advice. he’ll fix this. “thanks, guys. here i go.” he shoots up from the table, ned and mj getting back into their debate once he’s out of sight.

betty is hugging you way too tightly when peter gets over there. she goes on about how much peter sucks, overcompensating because she’s the reason you kissed him. you only hum in response. you don’t have the heart to tell her you blame yourself. only liz notices peter come over, so she talks on your behalf. “oh, hey,” she says drily. “hey. can i talk to y/n?” peter gets out, twiddling with his thumbs nervously.

she has to decide if she’d rather go into protective friend mode or let him. from your unenthusiastic responses to betty’s hate rant, she figures you’d like to hear him out.

“come on, betty,” liz takes her arm suddenly, betty trying to pull it back. “what? why?” “i’m gonna buy you ice cream. let’s go.” that’s her cover. peter shoots her a look that says thank you, liz pressing her lips into a line and dragging betty along. betty sees peter standing in front of your table and glares at him, liz walking faster. you don’t get the chance to ask them where they’re going because they leave so fast.

the bench dips down on one side of you, making someone’s prescense known. you’re surprised to find it’s peter. you talk first.

“if you’re gonna apologize, don’t. it was my fault-“ “you never let me finish earlier,” peter interrupts, the hint of a smile on his face. his clammy hand links with one of yours. “what were you gonna say?” you ask quietly, peter threading your fingers together. your heart is racing at the simple touch. “that i like you,” he replies at the same low volume. “and, that i wanted to try again.”

he’s sitting a lot closer to you than you realized. you welcome it, your hands in between you two on the bench. “i like you too... try what again?” you question, although you hope and pray it’s what you think. “kissing,” peter says what you were hoping and praying for. “wasn’t ready the first time.” you’re about to go into cardiac arrest as he rests his forehead on yours, curls brushing your face. a few broken up breaths escape him.

“can i?” he nearly whispers, warm hand still gripping at yours. “yeah,” you agree before your eyes flutter shut. he wastes no time, parting his lips and brushing them against yours gently, you reciprocating. he kisses as sweetly as he is, his free hand on your cheek and fingers careessing your skin. your other hand ends up on the back of his neck. you grin against him, lips detaching momentarily so you can engage him in another kiss.

peter doesn’t hesitate to kiss back this time, nose nudging yours as he moves in more. you tug on some hair at the nape of his neck and laugh into the kiss, reminding him you’re in school. he pulls back with a chuckle, but keeps his forehead on yours and your hands in each other.

“sorry. got too excited,” he laughs out, you leaning into his open palm. “i told you don’t apologize.”

liz and betty joined ned and mj at some point. the four of them are whistling at you and yelling out suggestive jokes. they’re too much. but, to be fair, you owe this all to them.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction

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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

Text

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness.

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops.

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u.

Corruption.

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.

But the need to win was still present.

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

It’s said to be the home a monster.

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.

The one who knows.

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.

It always has.

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.

Exhaustion was palpable.

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.

And there it is: the tower.

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.

The layout doesn’t make sense.

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is- what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.

Beautiful.

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.

And this is what has kept you frozen.

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.

“You won��t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.

But he had vanished.

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.

You know you should be terrified.

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.

“She’s awake!”

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #jimin #park jimin #bts #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts smut #bts writing #jimin writing #jimin fanfic #bts au

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five-rivers · 4 years ago

Text

Green Sky Highway

Phic Phight Phic for @deuynndoodles

The Fenton Ecto Cell Bettery (aka the Better Battery) was designed to draw power from not only an internal, pre-charged store of ectoplasm, but also from ambient, atmospheric ectoplasm. This meant that it would never run out of juice so long as it was in the Ghost Zone. The Specter Speeder was designed to travel in the Ghost Zone. Thus, the Betteries were the perfect power source for it. In theory.

In practice… Well, that just wasn’t working out, and Maddie didn’t know why. She gripped the underside of the dash and tried to push herself deeper beneath it to get a better view of the machinery.

“Maddie? You see anything?” asked Jack, who couldn’t fit under the dash. He’d been inspecting as much of the engine as he could from the inside, which wasn’t much. The Speeder wasn’t designed to be serviced while free-floating in the Ghost Zone.

Which, now that she thought of it, was a serious oversight.

“Everything looks fine,” said Maddie. “Except that it doesn’t have any power. Nothing’s lighting up, but all the connections look good. You?”

“I can’t get anything to work. Anything. It’s like… we’re in some kind of technological dead zone. But that doesn’t make sense.”

Maddie pulled herself out to see Jack vigorously scratching his head and shedding dandruff everywhere. “Ghosts do tend to disrupt technology.”

“But we fixed that. We designed all our weapons to work with that.”

“We know there are things we don’t know,” said Maddie, “and it’s always good to find new things! Though not pleasant to find them out like this…” They should really test their inventions more, honestly.

But it had been over a year of testing since they opened the portal. They had to jump in at some point, didn’t they? That was the whole point of the portal.

She sighed. “Well, we didn’t have a lot of forward momentum when the portal cut out.” She looked out the window. “We could see if we can get out and engage our jetpacks.”

“Uh, about that,” said Jack. He swung open the door to the jetpack cabinet. The empty jetpack cabinet. “I may have forgotten to put them back after refueling them.”

“Jack…”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Maddie massaged the bridge of her nose with her mostly-clean knuckles. This was a repeat of the handle inside the weapons vault. At least he wasn’t pushing the blame for it back onto Danny or Jazz. That would definitely have started a fight.

On the other hand, there really wasn’t any guarantee the jetpacks would even still be functional, so maybe it was for the best. For certain values of best.

She groaned.

There was a knocking sound. “Is that coming from the engine?” Maddie asked.

“No…” said Jack, slowly. “I think it came from the door…”

They both turned to stare. Something moved outside it. They shifted to get a better view out the window.

Phantom was out there, tapping on the door with a ten-foot pole.

“That little unnatural abomination,” cursed Jack under his breath. “He’s going to scratch the paint!”

Phantom apparently saw them and waved. “Hey!” he shouted, just loud enough to be heard through the walls of the Speeder. “Do you guys need a lift?”

Jack and Maddie turned to each other.

“How did he know we were here?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Do you think he followed us?”

“It wouldn’t be difficult, but I’m surprised he didn’t show up on our detectors.”

“He does seem to have the ability to drop off of them.”

“True,” said Maddie. “So, how do we handle this? Fenton bat?”

“I don’t know, Mads. He might be, uh, sincere? That time with the ectofiltrator he did help me.”

“That’s one, single, datapoint. He’s a been a menace every other time we’ve encountered him.”

“I don’t know that we have much other choice,” said Jack, nodding towards the dead engines and the empty jetpack cabinet.

Maddie huffed out a sigh, then looked back at Phantom, who waved again.

“Fine. We still have to decide how to deal with him while we’re cooperating with him. Or if he decides to show his true colors.”

“Good idea.”

Danny knew this had been a terrible, terrible idea the moment his parents opened the door to the Speeder armed to the teeth. Why did they always feel the need to do that? None of the weapons, with the possible exceptions of the Fenton Bat and the Fenton Crowbar could even work here.

How his parents had, on their first jaunt into the Ghost Zone, managed to run smack into the Time Locked Lands was beyond him. They had to go to the one place in the Ghost Zone that the Speeder wouldn’t work and after coating the Speeder with some kind of anti-ghost spray that Danny absolutely refused to touch again. Ever. Especially in ghost form. Except with a ten-foot pole.

(If they’d left the spray off, he could have just pushed the Speeder back out of the Time Locked Lands. But, no, they had to make everything as difficult and painful as possible.)

“I am not carrying all that,” said Danny, flatly.

(Especially because it would all turn back on once they left the Time Lost Lands, and if there wasn’t a Specter Deflector under all that, he’d eat his own belt.)

“Then we aren’t going anywhere with you!” proclaimed Maddie.

“You’re stranded in the middle of the Ghost Zone. I don’t think you have a choice.”

“We do!”

“I could literally just fly over there and snatch you right now. Plus, again, stranded. Do you even have any food in there?”

“Of course we do!” said Maddie. “We aren’t incompetent.”

Jack looked guilty. Danny decided not to bring it up.

“Okay, but still, you’re going to run out eventually, and then you’ll still be floating in the Ghost Zone with no way to get out. You aren’t going to get another friendly ghost coming by.”

“I’ve never seen a friendly ghost to begin with!”

“Maddie…”

“I can just leave, you know,” said Danny, planting his hands on his hips and bluffing for all he was worth. He was not leaving his parents here to be used as hostages or who knew what else.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t call the bluff. They shouldn’t. No sane, reasonable person would. He was their only way out of this mess. On the other hand, his parents had never been completely sane, reasonable people.

Danny thought his odds were about fifty-fifty. Which meant he could hope.

Jack and Maddie had an intense, whispered conversation. This, thankfully, lead to them divesting themselves of most of their visible weaponry. Which meant that they still had more guns on them than most professional soldiers during a firefight.

Well, it was better than he’d expected. But it was still too many.

“Take the Specter Deflectors off,” he said. “What do you think will happen if I try to carry you and you have those on.”

There was muttering.

“Come on, come on,” said Danny, snapping his fingers. Which really shouldn’t work through his gloves but did anyway.

Sometimes ghost nonsense was good for making lasers fly from your hands, and sometimes it was good for tiny aesthetic breaks in physics. It was a grab bag, really.

“Alright,” said Danny. “I’m going to fly over and pick you up. Don’t hit me.”

Oh, jeez, he was not looking forward to carrying them all the way over to the portal. Sure, he could bench press a school bus, but there was a difference between holding up a school bus for a minute and carrying two people who hated his guts a mile through enemy territory while flying slowly enough not to give them windburn.

Sure, it’d probably only take a few minutes, even then, but those would be the longest few minutes in his entire life. Not counting his actual death.

Being carried by Phantom had to be the single worst experience in Jack’s entire life.

It wasn’t the speed or the lack of control – he loved carnival rides – or the height – Jack couldn’t tell you how many buildings he’d jumped off in pursuit of ghosts – or even the fact that Phantom was a sinister specter, and ectoplasmic emanation, a putrid piece of protoplasm – he’d been carried by ghosts before, usually ones who were a lot more upfront about wanting to kill him.

Actually, Jack didn’t know why he didn’t like it. He just didn’t.

Maybe it was just how uncomfortable it was? But Jack did way more uncomfortable things. Like interacting with his sister-in-law. Brr.

Maybe it was the lurking feeling behind every interaction he ever had with Phantom that there was something he just wasn’t seeing, some hidden truth that would make everything about Phantom, every contradiction, every confusion, make sense.

Nah, that couldn’t be it. Maddie would have figured it out by now. That’s why they made such a great team. He noticed the things she didn’t, and she noticed the things he didn’t.

“You’re going the wrong way,” snapped Maddie.

Just like that!

Wait. That was a really bad thing.

“I’m not going the wrong way,” snapped Phantom. “I’m avoiding Walker’s prison. I don’t know how he didn’t catch you on your way out, but I’m not eager to be thrown in jail for a thousand years.”

“Ghosts have jail?” asked Jack surprised.

“Depends where you are,” said Phantom. “Walker isn’t really a sheriff, though. There’s no government behind him and he just makes up rules randomly so he can lock up anybody he doesn’t like.”

“Like you,” observed Jack.

“Why doesn’t it surprise me that you’re even wanted by whatever passes for the law here?”

“First, rude. Secondly, there are realms in here that are just as organized and civilized as any country on Earth. Just because you opened your portal into the equivalent of post-apocalyptic Detroit doesn’t mean it’s all like this.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Maddie.

“I could arrange that, you know,” said Phantom, stilling.

Jack laughed nervously. “Maybe another time?” The ghost would do what it would do, but they didn’t need to encourage him to bring them even deeper into the Ghost Zone. They were currently banking on Phantom’s obsession with heroics to get them home, but if they changed the equation… Yeah, Jack didn’t want to deal with the consequences of that.

Ghosts were like computers that ran only one program. One homicidal, destructive program.

It was like that thought experiment about an AI whose job was to maximize the number of paperclips. It’d just keep on making more and more paperclips until nothing was left. Which was why they had to be stopped.

Easier said than done, as Jack and Maddie had learned.

“You don’t have to be so freaked out,” muttered Phantom. “It isn’t like I’m going to kidnap you or anything.” He pretended to sigh.

What was the point of that? He had to know that Jack and Maddie wouldn’t fall for his tricks. Actually, come to think of it, he was miming breathing, too, and had been the whole time.

Maybe that’s why Jack was so uncomfortable. The constant undercurrent of deception.

Hmmm… something to think on.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, pointing.

“Uh,” said Phantom, who did a double take.

Ooh, that wasn’t reassuring.

Danny clenched his teeth, his parents’ reactions to him weren’t reassuring, and even less reassuring was the way Pariah’s Keep had moved from its usual creepy location and to this new creepy location. Not that there were any non-creepy locations in the Ghost Zone. It was part of the place’s charm.

No, really. Some part of Danny craved the creepiness. He was half-ghost, after all.

(Even if his idea of creepiness was, according to his friends, sort of lame.)

But back to the main point. The keep really, really shouldn’t be here. And it was creeping him out.

It should be okay to just… fly past it, though, right? Just being in its airspace in the past hadn’t done anything bad. So, flying by with his parents in tow shouldn’t do anything either. Right?

Danny put on more speed, just in case. This coincided with a bunch of large ghost ravens (or were they crows?) dive bombing them and forcing him to land to defend himself and parents. The only land around being the rim of the island that supported the keep.

He knew something like this would happen. Maybe not exactly this, but he just knew he’d be attacked and everything would devolve into nonsense, and—

Huh. The birds weren’t attacking him, just his parents. Oh, these were racist (mortalist?) birds. Gross. Trust Pariah Dark to have bigoted birds. He called up a shield to protect his parents. Whereupon they shot him in the back, shouting about how he betrayed them to the birds, because why not?

Why was his life like this?

He pushed himself up off the ground. Starbursts twinkled behind his eyes. Neither his parents nor the crows were in sight. The crows could have gone anywhere. His parents on the other hand…

There was only one place they could have gone.

Well. At least none of the nonsentient traps would work on them, seeing as they were humans. What were the odds that they’d run into one of the sentient defenders?

Well… considering the ravens?

Yeah. That’d be about one hundred percent.

“Maddie, I don’t know about this…” said Jack, examining the tall, vaulted ceiling.

“We had to get away from Phantom. This was the only way to go.”

“But he came here for a reason, Mads,” whispered Jack, tip-toing.

“Yeah, this is definitely a trap. But what can we do?”

“Jack? Maddie? This is not a place you want to wander around in! Oh, holy—” There was a loud thump.

Maddie grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him forward. “We have to get away from him.”

“Come on! This is a floating island! I’m your only way off! Why are you like this?”

“He has a point,” said Jack.

Maddie stopped. “I guess he does.”

“This is literally the worst place you could have picked to run away!” A sound like a very large door opening and closing reached their ears. “This is Pariah Dark’s place! Where did you even go?”

“Mads?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Pariah Dark?”

“I think that was the name of the ghost that sucked the town into the Ghost Zone a few months ago.”

“Please, guys! I’m trying to help you here! This place is ultra-dangerous! You could accidentally – yikes! – wake up Pariah Dark.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Yeah,” said Maddie, “maybe we should.”

“Phantom!” called Jack. “Phantom! We’re over—” The floor opened up underneath them and they fell into the dark.

Maddie woke to a dark room, tied to a chair. She noticed the faintly glowing ghost in front of her and jolted backwards.

The ghost wore a set of painted and engraved plate armor, a pair of lavender-white eyes glowing from behind the slats of its visor. A knight, of sorts, Maddie supposed.

“You…” droned the ghost in a painfully stereotypical ghostly moan. “Enemies of the king… why have you come here?”

“Huh?”

That was Jack’s voice. He was tied behind her, apparently.

“We don’t have anything to say to you,” snapped Maddie.

“Uh,” said Jack. Something twisted behind Maddie. “Are you a friend of Phantom?”

“A friend? A friend?”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” muttered Maddie.

The door of the room flew off its hinges. “Fright Knight!” shouted Phantom, pointing a glowing finger. “Wait, you aren’t Fright Knight. Who are you, and what do you want with my- With, uh, the Fenton ghost hunters? Who I don’t know very well at all. Promise.”

“What,” said the ghost.

“What,” said Maddie.

“What,” said Jack.

“Okay, forget everything I just said.” He gestured at the ghost. “Who are you?”

“My name is Paladin, my liege.”

“Okay, okay, cool, cool. I- Wait, what? What did you call me?”

“My liege?”

Phantom looked like he was having an existential crisis.

“Maddie was right!” exclaimed Jack, who couldn’t see Phantom’s face. “You did lead us into a trap!”

“What? No? I’ve never even met this guy before! You are a guy, right?”

“Yes, my liege.”

“Right. I’m going to put that on the backburner and freak out about it later. How are you- Why are you—” Phantom shook his head. “Why are you here in Pariah’s Keep?”

“It’s your keep.”

“Since when?”

“Say what now?” asked Jack and Maddie at once.

“Look, this is news to me, too. But, back to the question. You. The keep. Why? I mean, you weren’t here before.”

“That is because Pariah sealed me, my liege. When you defeated him, I was released and immediately swore fealty to the true king. You.”

“I am so freaking out right now, but we’ll revisit that. Later. Right now, I have to get these guys home.”

“But they have hostile intentions towards your person, my liege!”

“Everyone has hostile intentions towards me. I’m honestly surprised you haven’t attacked me yet.”

“Ah. My liege, perhaps you should seek the services of a priest, if all your experiences with new people are such.”

“Is that the medieval equivalent of a therapist?”

“I fear I do not know what that is. Why do you ask?”

“Because the last time I talked to one of those, they purposefully picked at every one of my insecurities and then tried to murder my, uh. Someone close to me.”

“An evil counselor, then,” said the knight, gravely.

“I want to agree with you, but somehow I feel like you’re talking about something completely different than the image in my head.”

“That may be true, my liege. Doubtless, you are very wise.”

Maddie was… lost.

Very lost.

Even so, her prerogative was escaping. She started twisting, trying to get to the knots around her wrists.

“Did you, uh, pilot the castle out here?”

“Yes. I sensed that mortal enemies of the king, that’s you—”

“I will debate that as soon as my brain stops screaming at me.”

“—had entered the Realm.”

“Right. Yeah. Thank you. But I can handle these guys. And I need to get them home. Please. I made a deal with them.”

“With these?”

“Hey!” said Jack, offended.

“I mean, I use the term deal pretty loosely.”

“Hey!”

“But yes. Please. Just. Dang. How did you tie them up that quickly?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Do you mind if I take the chairs?”

“They are your chairs, my liege.”

“I’m still not used to that.”

“Are you quite certain you want to take them? And just… Let them loose? The dungeon here is very functional. We even have an oubliette.”

“Raincheck. But thank you. Really, I mean it.” Phantom flew behind Maddie, and she protested as the chair she was in was yanked upward. “Uh… I might have gotten turned around a time or two, so if you could…”

“Of course! The keep does seem to have sustained some damage, so we will have to take some detours.”

“Phantom! Phantom! Put us down and untie us.”

“Nah, I think I like this better. Your kids can untie you once I bring you back!”

“You’re going to drag us all the way through the Ghost Zone?”

“That’s the plan.”

The rest of the flight was surprisingly pleasant. No one attacked, and his parents were much easier to carry in the chairs. Sure, they struggled, but the struggling was much more manageable than the wriggling from before.

They were mad at him. But they were always mad at him. So.

No loss, really.

With the utmost carefulness, Danny set them down in the middle of the lab, still tied up, and then began zapping then tossing their most troublesome inventions into the gaping maw of the portal while they screamed at him.

Normally, he wouldn’t do this, especially after successfully rescuing his parents and hopefully raising their opinion of him, but some of those inventions were painful. Like. A lot painful. And dangerous. Also, he was doing his level best to avoid thinking about the whole ‘king’ thing.

Which he couldn’t do forever.

Especially since Jazz walked down the stairs, probably drawn by the screaming, to see Danny shoving half of the Ghost Catcher through the portal sans-strings.

“Uh,” said Danny.

“Get that ghost, Jazzy-pants!”

Danny vanished and fled upstairs.

Jazz had seen many strange things in her life, but that scene was one of the weirder ones.

It took some time to untie her parents, longer to extract herself from the ensuing rant and their attempt to salvage their equipment from Danny’s all-too-explicable rampage. Honestly, she was surprised Danny hadn’t snapped earlier.

She opened the door to his room. It was empty. She squinted. He was not just leaving her hanging like that, with no context to what happened other than their parents’ ranting. She opened her door.

Danny was lying on his side on the middle of her rag rug, hugging Bearbert Einstein.

“A ghost told me I was king and that I needed a priest.”

Oh boy.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

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