#to me the only world to exist is the one i reside in. i believe in the possibility of *hypothetical* alternate universes --

[cat-madhouse]

extremely funny for my fictionkin identity to be so impactful on my life when being fictionkin defies my own beliefs

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Dear Damian Wayne, Dec. 19, 2011

There really isn’t a good way to say any of this, especially via a letter. If I’m being completely honest, which I am, I would much rather be saying this to you in person. For both our safety, though, this was the best way I found to contact you.

First off, congratulations on being brought into the Wayne household! I never would’ve considered imagining that Bruce Wayne would be our father, but, here we are. Unless you’re there undercover? I doubt that, though.

Now, I should probably cut to the chase, no matter how much I want to stall. You might not remember me, but I’m your brother. Don’t freak out! Please, just finish reading this, at least. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to ever talk to or see me again, then that’s fine. I completely understand.

You probably hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t stay there. When we got separated on that mission, I ended up nearly killed. Some civilians found me and took me to a hospital to get my injuries treated. I realized, after I woke up, that this was the life I wanted. Leaving you hurt me so much more than I could ever describe in any language, but going back to Grandfather and Mother was a death sentence. I hated doing that to you, but I couldn’t do that to myself.

God, I suck at this.

I love you, Dami, I really do. I’ve wanted, for years, to come back to you, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. A selfish coward who can’t even face his own brother properly.

Forgiveness is a luxury I have no right to ask you of, but I’m going to anyway. So, can you? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you alone? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you  to think I died? Can you ever forgive me for making you go back to that place alone? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, and I don’t mean to hurt you now. I’m beyond ecstatic that you made it out. I’m so happy that you’re with father now. I hope you never have to go back to Nanda Parbat ever again.

شكراً لكونك أخي

          Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton

              (xxx) xxx-xxxx

***

There was a time that Danny only ever referred to as Before. Before he’d come to America; Before he’d been taken in by the Fenton Family; Before he’d lost himself to the life he’d never envisioned. He could remember it well.

*

He’d grown up in Nanda Parbat , high in the Himalayan Mountains. Beautiful buildings made of golden sandstone bricks, roofs made of the redist clay shingles, untouched snow for as far as the eye could see, and mountain peaks stretching high above the little valley.

There were greenhouses, too, filled with plants of all kinds from everywhere! Food, poisons, antidotes, it was all grown in Nanda Parbat. Clean water was pulled from the wells and the snow as though nature herself was giving her best to this one place. Truly a heaven on earth. The Garden of Eden, some people called it.

The residents were known to very few, only ever coming down when they found themselves with visitors. The towns at the base of the mountain ranges had plenty of legends about the People of the Mountains, but even fewer still knew their real secrets.

The League of Assassins, founded by Ra’s al Ghul himself, had made Nanda Parbat their home base, though neither Ra’s nor his daughter, Talia, made a habit of staying for too long or visiting often. No, Nanda Parbat had been claimed to raise the heirs and guard the Lazarus Pits.

Danny had been born in those very halls, buried deep within the protective embrace of the mountains, mere minutes after his brother. He knew nothing but Nanda Parbat, half convinced that his instructors were lying about the outside world. After all, could it really exist if he’d never seen it?

Grandfather and Mother came by thrice a year. Once to check on or use the Lazarus Pits, once to check on the Demon Heirs, and once to instruct lessons of their own. It was how it had always been done, so Danyal and Damian knew nothing else.

Grandfather would tell tales of conquest, instructing them on how to mold their very surroundings to their wills. Mother shared her missions, warning against how others would try and use them to get to her and Grandfather, seeing them as the weakest link. Damian and Danyal taught each other, on the nights when they could escape prying eyes, the importance of secrets. No one to trust but yourself, both Grandfather and Mother had pushed, anyone will betray you when given the right incentive.

The day came when Mother and Grandfather came to check on the Pits. The week-long stay had been the same every year, but their instructors had announced a change. Danyal would be going with Mother while Damian would be going with Grandfather. They would return to continue their studies in Nanda Parbat by the next full moon.

Danny had been excited. He was going to the outside world! He’d never been there before! He’d only ever seen pictures of it! Such fun! The only disappointment he held was that he was not going to share the moments with Damian. Yes, they would be leaving together, but they wouldn’t be together. Mother and Grandfather stayed at separate bases, after all.

The night before they were set to depart their Himalayan Paradise, Danyal had snuck to the roof with his brother.

“I’m scared, ahki,” he whispered, the wind hiding his voice from all but his brother.

“Don’t be, ahki,” Damian had assured, “You will be with Mother. She will keep you safe.”

“But the instructors say that we will be on our own!” Danyal said, “Besides, I do not know Mother.”

Damian did not pause. “Of course you know Mother. She gave us life. She teaches us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know her. I know you, and I know the birds, but I do not know Mother nor Grandfather.”

“Perhaps,” Damian had suggested, “we do not need to know them as we know each other? Perhaps, we only need to know that Grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul and the Mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Then that means you’re Damian al Ghul!” Danny smiled, emotion his instructors had tirelessly trained out of him bleeding into the privacy shared between him and his brother.

Damian nodded, “And you are Danyal al Ghul.” A beat. “We will be fine tomorrow and the day after and the days to follow. When we return to Nanda Parbat, we will sit in this very spot and share our adventures.”

“Tales of conquest?” Danyal asked.

“Warnings of fools.” Damian responded.

*

A tale as old as the dirt beneath his feet. Before had been five years ago. So long in the past, but only a few pages back. Sometimes, it was as though he’d never left Before behind him. His training, for all that it was minimal in his limited time within the snow valley, was carved into his very soul. Not even the wear of time could pull him away from a weapon or the scan for immediate exit points or the caution when dealing with new people and places.

Jazz had explained to him that his responses to certain situations should not be that cautious or violent. She’d tried again and again to tell him that he was safe; that he wasn’t where he had been Before.

He knew that, obviously. Nanda Parbat was free of the disgusting urbanization of the modern world. This place was free of the untouched beauty of the hidden gems. He could see the beauty in the contradictions and in what he had been taught to scorn, he was not an idiot, but he could not appreciate it the way people born there could.

*

The Doctors Fenton, only Masters in their fields at the time, had picked him up at the base of the Italian Appalachian Mountains. They’d treated his wounds, introduced him to their daughter Jazz, and given him the opportunity to escape where he had been.

The Fentons had taken his hesitation as confusion for the situation; amnesia. They told him, as gently as they could, that all signs pointed to an abusive home. They wanted to help him get out as soon as they could.

But, that wasn’t right. Danny, in all his six years, knew exactly what an abusive relationship was. It was one of the things his Mother had taught him about when he’d first left Nanda Parbat with her when he was four! He didn’t come from an abusive home or an abusive relationship! Damian would never put him through that, and the ninja all knew better than to do anything untoward to him and Damian.

“And what about your parents?” Jazz, being only eight years old, had not held her tongue as Danny had been taught to. “Or any other adults?”

Now that, that was definitely a thought. But, no. No one within the confines of Nanda Parbat or within the League of Shadows as a whole had ever hurt him outside of training. The injuries they had treated were from a mission, not from his Grandfather or Mother or brother hurting him!

*

His attempts at clearing the misunderstanding had been brushed off as his imagination trying to protect him. Repressing and changing trauma, Jazz had translated.

He had thought, at the time, that everyone was wrong. He had come from a perfectly normal place! Though, the week he spent in the hospital had him second guessing. He was the only one looking for every possible exit in case of any possible situation at any given time. He was the only one prepared to slit the throats of everyone in the room if they got in the way of his escape. He was the only one to actively check for weapons to use or be used against him.

During his stay in the hospital, because they wouldn’t let him leave before he was cleared by the doctors who worked there, the Fentons had exposed him to many things that made him question his upbringing. But, now that he knew the truth, he’d never be able to go back.

The Fentons had promised him, the night before he was cleared to go, that they would help him stay away from the people who had hurt him, so long as he allowed them to. And how could he not accept? Too many questions had invaded his mind. The only way to answer them was to do as his Mother had taught him: learn from experience. So, he relented, leaning into the ‘trauma induced amnesia’ everyone had assumed he had, and went along with the Fenton Family.

But what about Damian? Surely, he was safe. Surely, he’d gotten back to Nanda Parbat and reported to Grandfather and Mother that Danyla had been killed! He could not go back, not yet. And maybe, a tiny, selfish part  of him that he hid in the darkest corners of his brain, was glad he wouldn’t be going back for any reason. To make himself feel better, he’d told himself that he’d go back for Damian once he was sure he wouldn’t be caught and killed for treason.

The plans laid within the floorboards under his bed with the katana and daggers the Fentons had let him keep.

Exactly four months after turning ten, Danny had turned on the TV. It was just to provide white noise while his adoptive parents were out, so he didn’t really care about the channel. Jazz hadn’t cared, either. If she had, she hadn’t said anything.

The channel had been one for national news. The covered story was in Gotham, New Jersey. Not unusual, but concerning until none of the names of the city’s rogues had been named. Bruce Wayne was holding a gala to officially introduce his youngest son to the world. That is what dragged Danny to sit and watch attentively.

Danny knew the name Bruce Wayne very well. His Mother had told him, no less than six times, that he was to go to Bruce Wayne if he ever found himself in a situation where the League of Shadows couldn’t help him. Bruce Wayne was his go-to if he ever needed because he is his father.

When Danny first met the Fentons, something had kept him from escaping. He could have, but he didn't. Something had compelled him to stay. That same something had told him to avoid Bruce Wayne when he was ten. That same something was now telling him to go to his father.

Danny didn’t listen to that something. Instead, he watched his brother stand beside their father and his other children. He followed his brother’s public persona studiously. When he pieced together Damian being Robin, meaning that Bruce Wayne was likely Batman, he followed his vigilante life, too. All the while, he was too much of a coward to actually reach out to them.

After all, what would they get out of having a relationship with him? He was a traitor to the Shadows, dead by all accounts that mattered. They already had an established family, so why would they want Danny? So, he stayed away.

It wasn’t until the week before his and Damian’s eleventh birthday that he finally managed to write a letter to his older brother. He timed it so that the letter would arrive the day of their birthday. A part of him hoped that Damian would get, read, and respond to the letter. A bigger part of him hoped that it would be lost amongst the birthday cards that were surely being sent to Damian now that he was living with their father.

Damian’s father. Danny already had a father. Well, a dad. He also had a mom and a sister. He even had an aunt! Not to mention the friend he made. He’s never had a friend before! So, yeah. Danny had a mom, a dad, a sister, and a friend. He wanted Damian, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. If Damian didn’t want him, then that meant that he wouldn’t have a brother or Grandfather or Mother or a father. Or three more brothers, apparently. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about any potential loss that wasn’t Damian.

*

“Please respond, please respond, please respond!” Danny chanted under his breath as he opened the mailbox. There were four letters inside, three for his parents and one for his sister. “La naiba!” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked as she came up behind him. She’d learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on him.

Danny shoved the three envelopes into her hands. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“Why would there be anything in there for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something without telling mom or dad?”

He scoffed. “No. I sent a letter and I’m waiting for a response.”

Her head tilted to the left slightly. “When’d you send it?”

“Three days ago.”

“There’s no way you’re ever gonna get a response in three days.” She scolded lightly, leading the way into the house, “Just be patient.”

He followed her. “Easy for you to say!”

“Who’d you send it to anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Jazz turned on him, her expression as unimpressed as a twelve year old could be. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she raised her right eyebrow and tilted her head to the left again and slightly forward. When that didn’t get her what she wanted, she crossed her arms, her feet planted firmly in place. She’d picked up several things since Danny was brought into the family. This was one of them.

Danny hated it when Jazz did this. She reminded him so much of Damian that he had nearly cried the first few times she’d taken this exact stance to get what she wanted. Was it an older sibling thing? Regardless, it wasn’t very long before he cracked. “Okay, fine! But we talk in my room, okay?”

She smiled, losing the pose and opening the front door. “I can work with that. Do you want a snack?”

“Sure,” he huffed. He’d meet her in his room. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to bribe him. It was a subtle tactic, one that didn’t work because it wasn’t really bribery if he was already going to do what she wanted, but he needed to make himself feel better about it somehow.

It took exactly five minutes and thirteen seconds for Jazz to enter Danny’s room with some chips, crackers, and bottled waters from the pantry. Not that he was counting. They set up camp in the middle of the floor, the snacks on the floor between them and their homework set out to work on. Whether either of them would use the paper distraction was yet to be determined, but it had become common practice to have a distraction when a conversation seemed like it would take more than a few minutes. And this was definitely one of those conversations.

As soon as they were both settled, Danny took a deep and obvious breath. “I didn’t ever have amnesia.”

Jazz blinked. “What?”

What a way to start, Danny. Another breath. “When you guys first found me, the doctors said I had amnesia; that my brain locked away the memories of Before because I couldn’t handle the stress of it. I went along with it because that seemed like the best course of action at the time. But, I didn’t lose my memories. I still had them. I still have them.” He didn’t look up from the floor.

Jazz leaned forward and took a chip out from the bowl and popped it in her mouth, the crunch of her chewing doing nothing to cut the tension in the room. She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We could’ve had the people who hurt you arrested!”

Danny shook his head. “No. I…I thought, when I was growing up with Grandfather and Mother, that everyone was raised like that. It was all I knew. But then you guys found me and took me to the hospital and suddenly, things weren’t adding up. I decided to go with you guys because I knew I couldn’t return to Grandfather and Mother with my thoughts all messed up like that.”

To her credit, Jazz was taking this all in stride. She took another chip. “Why didn’t you leave when you got your thoughts all sorted out?”

“Honestly?” he huffed, “I realized that I didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

“Then why keep the weapons?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘sentimental value’?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They let silence reign over them again for a bit, focusing on their homework and eating the food set out between them. Finally, after they were both finished, Jazz put her things back in her backpack and leaned against the wall behind her, taking the bowl of chips and a water bottle with her. “What was it like, your home Before?”

Danny smiled and slipped his own things away, leaning against his bed with the bowl of crackers and his own bottle of water. This was a topic he could talk about for hours. “I was born in Pakistan, in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically. Very secluded. My brother and I were the only two kids there.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, his name’s Damian. He’s older than me by a few minutes.”

“Why wasn’t he with you when we found you?”

“Because we got separated.”

“Do we need to go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s with our father now.”

“Is he the one you sent the letter to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Tell me more about where you were born?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “It’s a valley of snow, nestled between peaks in the Pakistanian end of the Himalayan Mountain Range. The buildings were all connected by roofed gravel walkways, yellow sandstone bricks and red clay shingles and dark wood pillars and floors and doors. The green houses were always my favorite. Any plant you could possibly think of was probably grown there! Damian always preferred the stables and pasture, though. He got along better with animals than actual people, I was the exception. When the weather was good, we’d take our lessons outside. If the weather was bad, then we’d study in the arena or the library.

“Sometimes, whenever Grandfather or Mother came to visit, they’d tell us stories about their adventures. My favorite stories, though, were of how Mother met my father and their adventures together. Grandfather doesn’t like those stories, though. He doesn’t like my father much.

“Me and Damian were the only kids there, so we had to play with each other. There weren’t any games we could play because adults are boring, so we made stuff up as we went along. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the stables and pet the horses! Other times, we’d sneak out of our rooms and climb to the roof to watch the stars.

“The stars were so pretty there! They’re the same stars that we see here, but they were so much brighter in Pakistan; more visible, y’know? The sky was so clear and it was so quiet- One of the people staying there gave me a book about the stars before he left.”

“Is that what started your fascination with space?” Jazz asked.

Danny nodded, “Yeah, it was. Damian would listen to me retell the same stories for hours whenever we climbed to the roof, but he never asked me to stop. I don’t think he ever looked at them and saw what I saw, though.”

“What did you see when you looked at the stars?”

“I saw something just barely out of my reach that I know I could grab if I was just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit better.”

“Is that what you see now?”

“No.”

“Oh, then what do you see now?”

“I see the past, and I see a hope for the future.” He paused. “It was a competition between me and Dami, trying to be better than each other because whoever was the best was Grandfather’s and Mother’s favorite.”

She frowned. “You guys were kids! You shouldn’t’ve had to compete for attention like that!”

“I know that now,” he shot back, “But we didn’t then. We were raised to compete with everyone to hold Grandfather’s and Mother’s attention and favor. If we lost it, if we did anything that Grandfather deemed unworthy of the family name, then we were punished.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but it’s what we knew.” A beat. “It was a big family, so not everyone stayed at the one compound.” The League was very far from being a family, but it’s the best way to describe it without exposing it to anyone. “Me and Damian were born and raised in the main compound in Pakistan. Grandfather, the head of the family, stayed and led from a compound in China. Mother stayed at a compound in Bangladesh. When we were four, I went and spent a month with Mother and Damian went and spent a month with Grandfather before we were sent back to Pakistan. When we turned five, I went with Grandfather and Damian went with Mother. When we turned six, we were both sent to spend time with family here in the states. I got separated from Damian and-”

“-me and mom and dad found you.” Jazz finished for him.

“Yep.”

“But, how did you get so hurt?”

Before he could answer, the front door burst open, their parents announcing their arrival carrying through the house. “A story for another time, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jazz wasn’t happy to have been interrupted, but she didn’t push. Instead, she took the empty bowls and went downstairs to greet their parents.

Danny leaned his head back against his bed, lost in the memories of his time with his brother. He wishes that Damian would send a reply already. He had remembered to put a return address, right? Maybe he should’ve just used the house’s address instead of setting up that PO box in the next town over! It’s not like anyone ever claimed to be reliable delivery persons!

Waiting was always the worst part of anything. Waiting for Grandfather to speak when he’d called an audience; waiting for Mother to tell them the end of her story; waiting for the guards to show any weak point to sneak past; waiting for a mission to start. It was always agonizing.

*

The morning was cold. Colder than it had been, but not as cold as it could be. Unfortunately, the cold meant snow. Snow meant that it was way too bright outside. And, despite it not being the morning of a school day, Jazz had elected to wake Danny up at the horrible time of six-thirty in the morning. Later than the normal five-forty-five, but still way too early to reasonably be awake. Honestly, Danny had thought he was done with getting up with the sun, but Jazz had proved him wrong time and time again for nearly five years now.

She pulled the curtains open, letting in the light from the sun that reflected off the white embodiment of cold. When that only caused him to burrow deeper into his three blankets and two pillows and his dog plush, Jazz decided to pull all three layers off of him.

“Hey!” he yelped, falling off the bed with a thud. “What the heck!”

Jaz dropped the blankets with a smile. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty! Mom and dad are in the lab again-”

“Another ‘breakthrough’?”

“-so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

Danny groaned and pulled himself off the floor, resetting the blankets on his bed in a mock of making it look neat. “Something warm.”

“How does hot chocolate and pancakes sound?”

“Can I have coffee instead?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

Jazz shook her head and left the room. “Don’t go back to sleep, okay? I wanna go to the library today.” She didn’t close the door behind her.

“Isn’t it closed today?” he called into the hall.

“Tomorrow!”

“Ah.” He closed the door himself, letting out a small puff of air. Turning to the room at large with his hands on his hips, Danny sighed. It was gonna be a long day. The first thing he did was straighten out his bed so it looked properly not slept in. Just as Mother had taught him. Then, he changed from his pajamas and into some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Leaving his room, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, only really bothering to push a hand through his hair. Not at all like Mother had taught him, but he really didn’t care right now.

Danny made his way down the stairs sluggishly. He’d never been a morning person, much preferring to stay awake until the early hours of the morning watching stars, but he’d had to hide that little quirk when he was with Grandfather and Mother. He’d realized, about half a year after the Fentons picked him up, that he didn’t need to hide his preference for night over day. Infact, his mom encouraged it! She let him sit up on the roof and stargaze until one or two in the morning before forcing him to bed. And then Jazz got into the habit of waking him at six in the morning for school. He’s definitely run on less sleep than four-ish hours, but he’d rather get as much as he can, which is what breaks are for! Unfortunately, Jazz has it in her head that he has to get up at the same time every day without fail, lest he irreparably mess up his sleeping schedule.

With a groan, he plopped down on his chair - in a bout of pettiness a year and a half after arriving, he carved his name into the wood of the backrest - at the table and laid his head down. His sister worked efficiently on the pancakes as the water for their hot chocolate boiled in the electric kettle.

The two sat and worked in a quiet peace. Jazz’s bustling around the kitchen faded into the background as white noise with the constant hum of electricity throughout the house and the occasional controlled explosion from the basement lab. It was well fortified, so the house wasn’t in danger.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of laying on the table with his eyes closed, Jazz put a plate by Danny’s head, a mug of hot chocolate with a candy cane beside it. Then, she sat opposite him with her own food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled groggily, pulling the food and drink towards him.

“You’re welcome.” Jazz said around a bite.

Danny would be the first to admit that Jazz wasn’t the best cook, but he was also the first to praise her cooking. Jack Fenton couldn’t make anything, that wasn’t fudge, for the life of him. Any food he tries to make, somehow turns to fudge. Kind of like King Midas’ Golden Touch. Maddie Fenton was a pretty good cook, when she remembered to actually feed herself and her family. She could make cookies worthy of the gods, though. Whenever the Fenton parents weren’t in their basement lab for one reason or another, they ordered takeout to eat with their kids. Those times were, unfortunately, few and far between.

Finishing his meal, Danny was wide awake, the food doing wonders for waking him. And, while the caffeine in chocolate was nothing compared to the coffee his dad would sometimes let him drink, there was just enough to wake him up just a bit more. Don’t tell Jazz, though, or she might take away chocolate, too.

“Do you,” he hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, “Do you think mom and dad will be up to celebrating this year?”

When he was seven, he learned that the Fentons didn’t celebrate any holiday, no matter what it was. They had up until Jazz was five, but then work became more important. Jack and Maddie had claimed breakthroughs in their research, pushing everything and everyone aside if it or they didn’t directly help their life’s work.

That same year, he’d been trying to acclimate himself better. One of the biggest things in American culture is holidays, so he decided to ask to celebrate Christmas. It was mainstream and was derived from one of the only holidays he was allowed to celebrate back in Nanda Parbat.

Jack and Maddie had agreed, of course, and he and Jazz had pulled out all the old decorations to dress the house. When December twenty-fourth came around, though, their parents had gotten into a huge fight about whether to tell Danny and Jazz that Santa wasn’t real. Jack had said it was a right of passage for little kids to figure it out all on their lonesome, while Maddie had argued that she wasn’t going to let her children believe in fairy tales that parents tell to get their kids to sleep faster. They were loud enough that Jazz and Danny had both heard every word.

The two tried, every holiday, to get their parents to spend time with them, at least, but it failed every time. Something or other aways came up.

“I don’t know, Danny,” she sighed, putting her fork on her now empty plate, “You can try, but I doubt it.” She’d given up last year, right around the time that she’d picked up on reading parenting books.

Danny didn’t say anything. He simply stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed before putting them away. The dishwasher had been ripped apart and repurposed for parts in the lab.

“I know that you want to celebrate like the other kids in town,” Jazz said from the table, “but mom and dad are way too focused right now. Mom mentioned something about working on the portal some more.”

Danny put the cup down carefully, a loud click sounding through the kitchen. With a controlled breath, he closed his eyes and turned off the tap. “There were exactly two holidays that me and my brother were allowed to celebrate when we were children. Christmas is taken from one of those holidays. Forgive me for just wanting to share a piece of that with them.”

He could feel Jazz’s sad gaze on his back. “What holidays?”

“Forget it,” he shook his head, “Let’s just go to the library.”

She let it drop. “It doesn’t open for a few more hours.”

He started up the stairs. “Then come get me when it’s time to go.” Danny ignored Jazz’s responding sigh as he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed some paper and a pencil.

In Nanda Parbat, one of the instructors was set to teach Danny and his brother the Fine Arts. From writing to painting to instruments to acting. All so that they could adapt to any mold for any mission. Because they were the heirs, the Demon Twins of the monster that was the organization, they were expected to be perfect. Anything less was punished.

Damian had always excelled at the Arts, especially drawing and its counterparts. He could work with any median, but charcoal had always been his favorite. Danny, too, had excelled with the Arts, but anything that happened on a stage had been his specialty.

Whenever he missed his brother, or any aspect of Before, too much, Danny would sit down and draw. He’d thought about asking his parents for an instrument of some kind, the cello always having been his favorite, but he decided against it. So, he drew. He didn’t have a dedicated sketch book, and no one but himself would ever see anything he made, but it was a nice outlet.

He wondered if Damian did something similar, now that he was with father. Did he play instruments or read plays when he thought of Danny? Did he allow his new siblings to see what he made or listen to his voice?

Three hours passed by in a blink, only one page being covered. It was a nice memory he’d drawn of the blacksmith’s hut away from the main base. In the picture, he and Damian were learning to forge their own daggers. Damian’s had turned out unbalanced and two inches too short. Danny’s had been only half an inch too long with a slightly too short grip.

Jazz knocked on the door as she cracked it open. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

Danny covered tha paper. “Hey.”

“Are you ready to head out? We can stop by Tasty Burger for lunch?”

“Sure,” he nodded, moving to stand in a way that prevented the paper from showing to Jazz. He hid it in his nightstand to be moved to the box with the others later. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she led the way.

It was a quick walk, only twenty minutes from their house to the library, but it was cold and bright. The snow only made the area brighter, but it was comfortable to him; familiar. What was really irritating was the cars and the people and the buildings. Danny had been raised very far from all of these things, only ever going near them when on a mission, and it was only a few hours at a time in those instances. No matter how long he lived in a city or town, whatever it was called, though, he would never get used to the noise.

The sidewalks were crowded with holiday shoppers not insane enough to go out on the twenty-fourth, but crazy enough to go out on the twenty-third. The streets were slick and traffic was slow, especially for a morning. Christmas decorations lined every window and tree and building face, holiday music carried on the wind four or five different songs mixing into one over and under the voices of the people on the sidewalks.

“C’mon,” Jazz tugged him into the public library by his hand. She had four books tucked under her arm, two on psychology, one on parenting, and one on dragons.

Danny followed after her, not quite dragging his feet, but making it apparent that he would rather not be there.

“Good morning, you two!” the librarian smiled when they made their way to her desk. She was a cheerful woman, always wearing a smile, though she had never once worn a nametag or introduced herself.

“Good morning!” Jazz matched the woman’s energy with a smile, dropping Danny’s hand and putting the four books up on the counter.

The woman took the books to scan them back into the system. “Are you looking to check out more books today?”

“Yep! Just so I have something to do over Winter Break.”

“You’re a kid, there’s lots for you to do!”

“I know, but I like reading.”

“I get it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, we will!” Jazz took Danny’s hand again and pulled him off into the forest of shelves, straight to the parenting section.

Danny hid his scowl as he watched Jazz search through the parenting books. “You’re twelve, Jazz-”

“Almost thirteen.”

“-you’re not supposed to be looking at these kinds of books until eighteen at the earliest.”

She didn’t stop her search. “You’re eleven, Danny, you should be acting like a kid.”

“But I wasn’t raised as a kid.”

“Exactly why you should take the opportunity now!”

He groaned. It was an ongoing argument between the two. “I don’t need you to look after me, Jazz. We’re both kids, so we should be reading books that kids do! Leave the parenting up to our parents.”

“Our parents who don’t even celebrate holidays?”

“Jazz-”

“Look, Danny, I know you’re worried about me growing up too fast or whatever, but I like these books.” She pulled one off the shelf before turning to look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only get one parenting book.”

It didn’t. He’d rather her get none. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna get some psychology books, though, and you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. She ignored him.

“The human mind is really interesting. Did you know that the size of a human brain has decreased since the time when we were hunters and gatherers?”

“Has it?” He loved when she got like this, talking about things that interest her.

She nodded rapidly. “Mhmm! By a whole ten percent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And most artists like working at night because humans are more creative during the night rather than during the day.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in good humor to tell her that he was joking, “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is!” she insisted, leading the way over to the tables in the middle of the large room with two psychology books and a parenting book under her arm. “And, look!” she grabbed a paper and pencil and wrote down ‘Yuo cna’t sotp me form radenig prnatneig bokos.’ in big letters. “Because we read words instead of individual letters, as long as the first and last letters are in the proper spots, and all the letters are there, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the word looks like, especially if you’ve been reading for a while or if you’re reading fast. You’re still able to read the word as though it were completely correct.”

“That’s actually really cool.”

“Right?” Her grin was so worth it. Her grin would always be worth it. “C’mon, let’s go get yo some books now.”

Danny grabbed Jazz’s hand and led the way this time. He took them over to the books about space and started to look through them. He’d always loved space as a whole, but stars had always held a special place for him.

He picked a book about astrology. “I heard some of the girls at school talking about magic and stuff and how people’s personalities are affected by what star sign they were born under.”

Jazz scrunched her nose a bit. “I’ve heard some people at school talk about that stuff, too. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’d be worth a look.” He took another book off the shelf, this one talking about both ancient and modern witchcraft. “The psychological implications are interesting, too.” That would get her to show a bit more interest.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She paused. “Mind if I take a look when you’re done?”

“I’d be happy to have a whole conversation about it when we’ve both finished reading our books.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The last stop before checking out their chosen books was in the fairy tail section of the library. Their dad loved fairy tales, but their mom refused to let them have any of the books in the house. She claimed that there was no such thing as magic and that any ‘magic’ was done by ghosts. Danny had to hide his amusement whenever that particular argument was bright up because he knew for a fact that the supernatural and magic go hand in hand more often than not. He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

The book they chose was one they both wanted to read, not wanting to risk mom finding one fairy tale in the house, let alone two. It was a compilation of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Dark stories, they both knew, but that just made them all the more enticing.

Checking out went much the same as checking in, with the added bonus of the librarian giving them a cloth tote bag to carry their six books in. She also gave them the name of a small magic shop on the other side of town that had some tarot cards in stock if Danny was interested.

As promised, Jazz had taken some money from their mom’s purse to stop by the Tasty Burger for lunch. They both ordered the chicken nuggets and a milkshake, Jazz getting chocolate and Danny getting strawberry. Then, when they were done eating, they walked hand in hand back to their home.

Danny stopped at the mailbox, not moving to follow Jazz or to open the thing. Did he dare check? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if Damian hadn’t gotten the letter like he both feared and hoped? What if he had? Would there be a response? Would Damian ever want a relationship with him?

“Hey,” Jazz tugged his hand, “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, a show of nervousness that would’ve been punished in Nanda Parbat. He inhaled. “What if there’s no response? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? It’s been almost five years.”

It took a moment before Jazz clocked what he was talking about. She let go of his hand to hold his shoulders. “How about this; You go inside and wait and I’ll get the mail, okay?”

Danny nodded and slowly trudged into the house. Why had he even sent that stupid letter? He flopped onto the couch. Damian probably hates him for not returning to his side.

He didn’t have time to mope any longer because Jaz threw the front door open with a shout. “Danny!” She was suddenly right beside him, shoving a letter into his hands. “There’s a letter for you!”

After a moment to process, Danny’s shaky hands ripped the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside. The single sheet was folded into three perfect rectangles, the black ink of a pen unsmudged and perfectly spaced. Just as Mother had taught.

***

Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton,                         Dec. 21, 2011

You have a very extravagant story. Whatever made you believe that exchanging letters was the most secure way of contact? An idiotic move that my brother would, unfortunately, absolutely make. Either you are him, or you are a clone. Either way, I’m not likely to believe you, so do not mistake this as such. Your admitted honesty is welcomed, though not believed.

My welcome into the Wayne Family was quite a public affair and aired all over the country, so I guess I should thank you for the congratulations, as is socially acceptable in this situation as well as others like it. Bruce Wayne being my father is not a surprise, given his public image and his tendency to take any stray whelp he sees into his home. Though I will have you know that I am the only blood child in the household.

Announcing your stalling while writing a letter is completely unnecessary, especially as that was your first correspondence. Had you simply left that out, I would never have been the wiser. Another mistake you’ve made in accordance with my brother.

Having read over your letter several times, I have come to several conclusions. With the resources I have at my disposal, I have determined that there is a good chance you are who you say you are. Understanding who I am, and who my brother is, the rest of this response is written under the foolish  ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶ assumption that you are who you claim to be.

I could never hate you, Danyal, nor could I ever ignore this chance I have been presented with. Getting out was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Coming back from that mission, having failed and lost you, broke something in Mother. She was both harsher and more clingy, hovering whenever she could and pushing more than ever. Grandfather was even less pleased that you hadn’t returned, though he only ever acknowledged you as a failure and a mistake. He made it known that he would’ve killed you, had you ever miraculously returned to Nanda Parbat.

I am glad that you got help. I am glad that you are living safely and that you have found a place to be at peace.

You are a coward, but you are more deserving of praise and forgiveness than you seem to believe. I thought you had died on that mission, Danyal. For that, I can’t ever forgive you, but I could never hate you. I can forgive you for making me return on my own. I can forgive you for being selfish and leaving me alone, but I will never forgive you for making me mourn you. You hurt me in ways that I never thought I could ever be hurt, in ways that I may never be hurt again.

Grandfather and Mother never allowed a grave to be made. They didn’t let me keep anything of yours either. They erased you. It was like you had never been there. I was never allowed to properly mourn you. That alone almost ended me.

Father knows nothing of you. Mother did not tell him, nor will I. I did not wish to make him or our siblings mourn a child they would never meet. If you so choose to tell him, then you may. I, however, will not be playing the messenger.

أرجو أن تسامحني على اعتقادي بأنك ميت. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أحزن عليك كما ينبغي. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أبحث عنك، فالعودة لم تكن خياراً متاحاً. كان يجب أن أجعله خياراً                     Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic :: Thank you for being my brother.

Translation 2 - Romanian :: Damn it!

Translation 3 - Arabic :: Please forgive me for thinking you were dead. Please forgive me for not mourning you properly. Please forgive me for not looking for you, coming back was not an option. I should have made it an option

Storyboard Part 2 Artwork

[noctilu-uca]

This little freakster is apparently really really courteous and gentlemanly as said by the nrc students. He uses very highly respectable honorifics for EVERYONE even the people his own age (hes 16-ish i think) and is generally a very polite person and speaks eloquently. So very eloquently that it gets really odd since we rarely see that type of speech from someone so young in twst. As we know, halloween fanatic. BIIIGGG halloween fanatic. his hometown apparently worshiped jack skellington and saw him as the creator of halloween so basically grew up in weirdly halloween religious town. At school he was very ostracized (assuming he didnt go to school in his hometown, dont know if its NRC or RSA, best to assume its not) because the students dont share his interests and find him weird. Ended up in a book, the book his IDOL jack skellington resides in, forgotten by history, yet he aimlessly wandered the forest and never opened the holiday doors despite it being the only thing different in the forest

Theres many theories, skully might be dead, might be a ghost, OOORRR. a fae. there is many things that supoort these theories because. 1. Skully doesnt seem to have the same background knowledge as the NRC students. 2. doesnt seem to know the existence of very common things in twst, things that even the 700+ year old lilia remembers very well and can recount the change of expresison over time (magic stones). 3. He seems to think people dont know about halloween, or at the minimum gets OVERLY excited and surprised that people know of the *existence* of halloween. Theres more thingd but i cant remember them right now

But me ? What i think ? I think skully just grew up in an overly conservative town and he doesnt really *know* the outside world and its perspective because its all hes known. Of course my knowledge is limited bc this is a jp event WAAHHH but i know enough to make a decent inference

Despite being halloweens no.1 fan. Hes very odd about its expression...? He had odd rules, i dont remember them all but it was weird things like ALL BLACK. NO COLOURS. NO CANDY. NO MUSIC. NO DANCING. THIS IS SERIOUS AND SHOULD BE RESPECTED.

Anyway my point is that his expression of halloween is very serious very conservative and is almost treated like a wake or a funeral of some kind tbh. He also said that the "bad" ghosts should be beaten away despite halloween being the celebration of ALL ghosts (NRC students fought him on this one) which kinda just shows theres some moral "sin" he believes exists with halloween. Of course, expression is always subjective and hes free to do whatever he wants but he gets wayyy too upset when someone tries to go against whatever rules he places down for halloween. Way too upset. Ofc the NRC students (leona) weren't *always* nice about expressing their objections but it was still odd. He romanticizes halloween (much like how jack romanticizes christmas) yet turns it into something you would see at a weird church ? Hm.

And even with all that, he met jack !! His idol !! Wow omg !! But the thing is, when jack is planning halloween for the year skully actively dislikes his ideas. Despite idolizing him. Of course he goes along with it anyway because wow idol but, again, really odd

So my thoughts on this predicament, skully grew up in a religious, small, conservative town. And when he moved out and explored the world he was met with ostracism, and when he found an escape (the book) he dug himself into his fixation and refuses to leave the world hes built himself. He rarely talks about his outside world experiences, rarely talks about his hometown unless its in reference to his fixation. His views stay stuck with the conservative approach despite being told time and time again that it isnt the *right* way to approach. Even, indirectly, by his own idol whom he had been projecting onto. But even with people pointing out his skewed ways, he stays stuck. Refusing to redirect his approach and stay with what he has always done and always wanted to do.

Escapism and reality are very big themes im seeing, thats all.

I COULD BE SO WRONG PLEASE FEEL FREE TO CORRECT OR ADD INFO IM NOT CONFIDENT ABOUT ANYTHING I AM POSTING ABOUT THIS GUY I LEARNED THIS ALL SECOND HAND AND DIDNT LOOK BACK FOR REFERENCE THIS IS STRAIGHT HOT OFF THE NOGGIN !!!!!

[anonymous-vr]

Water Nymph Part 1

Summary:

You never thought going to the surface would actually have consequences.

Word Count: 3k

FantasyBakugoux Waternymph/fem/reader

Warnings:

Eventual Smut

MDNI!

Authors Word:

Thank you all for the love! A full author's note is at the end.

As the rain poured down, the creek fell still. Other life forms rushed to get out of the rain and find shelter while water nymphs rose from the hollow of the enchanted spring. The splash of water harmonizes with raindrops punching the large body of water. The remaining population of nymphs resided in a spring deep within the trees, a place no human was meant to find. This was done for a reason.

Long ago, water nymphs and humans lived in harmony, relying on each other's strengths. Most water nymphs offered healing properties, while humans possessed skills that allowed nymphs to live comfortably. The nymphs were worshipped as healing goddesses, and this mutual respect maintained a stable world. But it only took one human to shatter this relationship, driving others to madness. They believed that drinking the blood of a healing water nymph would grant them powers. This delusion led to the slaughter of many nymphs. Some were even forced to breed, resulting in a new generation of powered humans.

The remaining nymphs fled to a hidden spring in the woods. For generations, humans searched for them but found nothing. To cheer the surviving nymphs, the gods blessed the spring with new water nymphs. Among them, only one had the power of healing—you.

"Come on Callirrhoe, why am I the only one banned from the surface?" "It's to keep you safe from those deranged humans." In human years you were twenty-two, the youngest of ten. Throughout your life, you've heard this answer countless times. "I know, I know. If the humans somehow find our spring, they'll be able to recognize my power and steal me away. It just doesn't make sense to me though! Humans haven't found us since you and your sisters made this spring, and you guys are generations old!" Callirrhoe sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "y/n, you will not be joining your sisters at the surface. Understood?" Her tone was harsh, threatening even. You were tired of being kept underwater. Your sisters always spoke about how nice it was to breathe "air" and lay on the "soft grass". Frustration made your eyes water as you quickly turned away and retreated to your room.

Hours passed before your sisters finally retreated back into the water. The spring filled with chatter as you swam to meet them. They caught you up on all the details of the surface—the leaves were finally growing back after a chilling winter, the air was warm, and flowers bloomed around the spring. "I wish I could see." You spoke softly, your sisters all gave you a sympathetic look. "We wish you could too, but you have to stay protected. You being the last power-wielding nymph, we can't assume safety. I don't want you killed or bred, you've heard Callirrhoe's stories, humans are barbarians. Better safe than sorry." Your brows furrowed at your eldest sister's words. "So what, I'm meant to stay underwater throughout my existence? Because it's 'better safe than sorry'? Why have this stupid power if I can't even use it? It's not like you guys get hurt. Besides, it's been generations since humans killed nymphs, who's to say they haven't changed."

This conversation was nothing new, your sisters knew you were a lost cause. "Believe whatever you want y/n, you aren't going to the surface land though." At that, determination boiled inside of you.

As the waters grew dark, rain continued to echo throughout the spring. Feeling rebellious, you decided to stay up late to get a taste of land. Your heart pounded as you silently swam to the top of the spring. Your now-weighted hair clung to your wet head and face as you nervously looked around. The air was strange; it took a few seconds to get used to it. Leaves brushed against the rain, creating a magical ambiance. "Wow," you breathed quietly, beginning to move around in the water. You hesitated as you reached the dirt, slowly gripping a chunk. The soil was rich and brown, completely different from the rocks beneath the water. After some self-encouragement, you finally pushed yourself out of the water and onto the land. Your skimpy clothes did nothing to guard you from the night breeze that brushed your wet body. Your body suddenly weighed you down, and you stumbled around before catching your balance.

"Wow," you repeated again, this time with excitement as your feet gripped the ground. You couldn't understand what danger could come from you being on the surface, it was so peaceful. You giggled to yourself before rushing around the spring, feeling whatever you could get your hands on. Eyes looking up, you were enchanted by the sight of the stars and the moon. You had never seen them before, but your sisters described them perfectly. You all told stories about how the stars, sun, and moon were where the Gods lived.

As you began to relax, squatting down and taking in your surroundings, the sound of a twig snapping alerted you. Freezing from shock, your head darted in the direction of the noise. A small butterfly flew past you. Uneducated on the surface land, you giggled as you couldn't understand how something so small could've broken something as thick as a twig. The moment was cut short though as footsteps responded to your laughs. Voice catching in your throat, you rushed to hide behind a tree.

"I know I heard something from over here, I promise I did!" A deep voice echoed through the trees before three giant humans came into view. You quickly ducked back behind the tree, hoping you weren't seen. "If you're wasting my time again, I'll have your head on a fucking stick Denki." The second voice was mean, scary even. You couldn't help the frightened squeak that fell from your lips. All movement stopped; you knew they'd heard you. "I told you I heard something."

Your body froze in fear, you wanted to believe that humans had changed but the stories you'd been told instantly rushed to the front of your brain. "If you reveal yourself now, we won't hurt you." A third voice spoke reassuringly. You bit down on your tongue, mentally cursing yourself for disobeying the nymphs. You knew the gods above were disappointed in you. Hands gripping the tree, you naively decided to reveal yourself. If you came clean, you believed they wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you could introduce them to your sisters to prove that humans were no longer a threat.

After a few seconds of silence, you slowly moved from behind the tree. On the other side of the spring stood three men. The first had golden hair that glistened even in the dim light, and he stood tall and full of energy, an aura of warmth surrounding him. Next to him was an even taller man with spiky red hair that seemed to bristle with intensity, his presence slightly intimidating. But it was the third man who made you want to shrink away. His untamed blonde hair framed a face with piercing carnelian eyes that scrutinized you intently, making your heart race with unease.

"Holy shit." The golden-haired man spoke as they all stared at you. After a beat of silence, the redhead took a step forward. Scared, you took one step away.

Bakugou had been ordered to find the long-lost nymphs, in an attempt to heal his extremely sick mother. With her being the queen, and his mother, he had no choice but to listen. He thought it was ridiculous, to wander the woods to find the mystical creatures in every child's story book. He did as he was told, taking his trusted men with him. Bakugou never thought he'd actually find a nymph though. It was obvious what you were, your features matched those of the story descriptions. Long hair, enchanting eyes, pointy ears, and an alluring beauty. He took in your appearance; wet body covered by a thin fabric. Even in tattered clothes, you were enticing.

After a few seconds, you took a hesitant step toward the spring. You thought that if you moved quickly, you could retreat back underwater. "Move another inch and I'll kill you." Bakugou's words were fierce, his voice deep and gruff as he pointed his sword at you. From your point of view, your heart fell to your toes. From Bakugou's point of view, he knew he was bluffing, he needed you alive. "So, you can understand what I'm saying?" You swallowed thickly as you stood frozen in place. Maybe it was a good thing you didn't retreat to the spring, that would've put the others in danger.

Within seconds, the blonde nudged his head towards you and the buff redhead began approaching. It took only a few strides for him to reach you. Reacting quickly, you grabbed a stone from the ground and smashed it against his forehead. Your quick reflexes surprised the man as he groaned in pain. Taking this opportunity, you spun around and ran from the spring. These humans were barbaric just as your nymphs had said. You had to get them away from the spring and you knew they'd follow you.

Feet pushing you through the trees, the sound of bodies following you began to get louder. You lasted a few more seconds before you were tackled to the ground, a groan leaving your lips as you smashed against the dirt. Strong hands wrapped your arms behind your back before forcing you up. You were immediately met with the angry red eyes of who you presumed to be the leader. "I've learned about you nymphs in story books, never did they mention how much of a pain in the ass you'd be." Furrowing your brows, you tried to yank from his grasp. Pain fell over your body though when something hard smashed against the back of your head. You immediately saw black.

In your sleep, you could feel the disappointment from the other nymphs. You knew once they woke up and realized you were missing, they'd know you disobeyed the rules and got yourself in trouble. Your dreams were filled with nightmarish scenarios of what may happen to you. You were stirred awake though as water enveloped your body. Was this all a dream? Am I still underwater in the spring? Eye's slowly opening, you were disappointed to see a group of individuals staring up at you. It only took a few minutes for you to understand what had happened.

"She's got a strong arm, the nymph hit my head hard enough to draw blood." The muffled voices caught your attention as you swam to the glass containing you. "You're in this compartment since you can't keep your hands to yourself miss nymph. Bakugou said that you could understand us when we speak. My name is Kirishima." Your eyes softened from guilt as you looked at the bandaged area on his head. "Yeah, you hit me real good back there." The last thing you'd ever wanted to do was act barbaric like the humans, you couldn't control yourself though as you tried to protect your family.

An apologetic smile fell on your lips as your hand pressed against the glass where his hand lay. Kirishima couldn't help but admire you. The way your hair floated in the water, your eyes seeming to draw him in even further. "Y'know, the stories don't do you justice." Your head tilted in confusion before the golden-haired boy rushed to the glass. "My name is Denki; I was there when we captured you." Kirishima nudged him, shaking his head at his disregard. Before you could react, the doors swung open and Bakugou waltzed in. The two men immediately left the glass. "You think the Queen will let us use her for personal reasons?" Kirishima smirked as he nudged Bakugou's shoulder. "Fuck off, told you to stop speaking to me like that in the open. One day I'll be forced to put your head on a stick." "Well, today is not the day. That was a genuine question though. That is unless you want her of course." Bakugou shoved his friend away as Kirishima chuckled and left.

You floated hesitantly as Bakugou made his way in front of the glass. You could remember how rough he had been with you, treating you as though you were a man his size. His body finally met yours on the other side of the glass. He held a soft scowl as he watched you steady your body in front of his. "I wouldn't have had to knock you out if you wouldn't have run." he got straight to the point as you stared at him with animosity. You didn't reply, watching as he tried to find words to say. "You're in this tank until I can trust you. I also wasn't sure if you'd survive being out of water for too long." You were definitely a sight to be seen, a woman like no other. He wouldn't allow himself, or anyone else, to indulge though as you were here for a purpose.

You'd heard stories about the human men, how big and intimidating they were. There were no male nymphs, however, older nymphs intermingled with these men. Due to this, nymphs eventually changed genetically. This gave them the necessary body parts to reproduce with human males. You never understood how any of it worked; you couldn't imagine what made human males so different from females. Bakugou standing in front of you though, you completely understood now. The man oozed masculinity, his presence demanding your submission.

"I know you can understand what I'm saying, can you speak though." He asked as he studied your face. Truthfully, you could understand everything. Underwater, you couldn't speak in the human tongue though. Nymphs had their own ways of communicating underwater. You learned the human tongue from your sisters though. There was a small air pocket underwater that they'd take you to so you could learn. This was done under the circumstances in which you were possibly kidnapped.

Slightly shaking your head 'no,' you watched him debate internally. If he wanted you to use your powers, he needed to converse with you directly. He didn't have time to wait for your cooperation; his mother was approaching her final days. Without your help soon, she would pass prematurely. "If I let you out of this tank, will you survive?" he asked, his tone urgent. You nodded yes, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change of mind. "Will you be obedient? You'll rot in here if you try some cheap tricks again." His eyes bore into yours, seeking assurance. You hesitantly nodded yes before moving back from the glass. He moved to the side of the tank and pulled a lever, causing the water to begin draining. Avoiding the drain, you lifted your head, the first part of your body to be free of the water. You watched curiously as he monitored the process. As the water receded, the man continued to scrutinize you, his golden hair gleaming under the dim light.

Finally free from water, your clothes stuck to your wet body as you pushed your hair away from your face. Bakugou finally pulled the heavy door open, standing to the side so you could exit. Your heart thumped as you stepped out of the tank. The situation you were in was weighing heavily on your mind. You knew your nymphs were most likely losing their minds right now. With you being the last power-wielding nymph, they'd lost their greatest treasure. Despite the nymphs doing everything to keep you safe, you'd been disobedient and ruined everything for them.

As soon as you crossed through the door, Bakugou grabbed hold of your arms and pulled them behind your back again. Becoming frantic, your head spun around as you pulled on his hold. "Relax, I'm not letting you walk around without restraints. You busted my right-hand man's forehead open." Your guilty eyes avoided his as you finally stood still, allowing him to tie your hands. "Walk forward."

Bakugou walked you like a dog to another strange room. You took in all the details, still new to the surface land. You looked in awe. Your nymphs never mentioned how talented humans were. Stones, sticks, and a weird adhesive combine to create a large enclosure. Bakugou watched you skeptically as you gushed over his castle. "You got a name?" His voice broke the silence. "Yes." Your voice was soft, shy even, something unexpected as he hadn't believed you could speak. Your short answer made him raise an eyebrow. "...what is it?" Your head turned slightly to meet his gaze as you continued to walk. "My human name is y/n"

Thank you for reading! This is just part one of this fanfic. It was meant to be only one part, but I couldn't help myself. I love details so you guys have plenty of imagery, so I stretched this one. I'm also working on a second part of "Self- Discipline" as it was requested by a few people in my notes. That should also be out soon! I appreciate the support and I hope you all stick around. I've got plenty of ideas to write out. I'll also be accepting requests eventually.

-Anonymous-vr

[lialox]

What if oldest dream behind the wall was Tls123?

“We’ll still stick together from now on too, so why do you sound so grimly determined? Don’t worry. No matter what kind of a monster is waiting for us, I’ll finish it off.”

I gently smiled. Meanwhile, the subway was slowing down even further.

My reflection could be seen in the black window of the exit door. There was a splatter of blood on my cheek reflected on the glass. I wiped it off my face. And then, my mood cooled down.

⸢The blood was really on my cheek, and not on the window.⸥

“Doors are opening!”

Along with Lee Hyunsung’s cry, everyone got ready to fight.

“....Ng?”

However, contrary to everyone’s nervousness, what greeted us was a rather empty subway platform. Sure, there were a few people walking around in the surroundings, but none of them paid us much attention.

“What’s this, there’s no....”

Jung Heewon muttered that out, and as we stepped onto the platform, I was overcome with an ominous foreboding. There it was, the unfamiliar sense of reality touching my feet. Faint sparks, along with every single one of my Fables, were pointing in a certain direction.

⸢Someone was sitting on the subway’s bench.⸥

Black athletic wear as if its wearer had just gone out for a run. A beautiful woman was slouched on the bench, unflinching in her sleep even with the bustle of the crowd around her. The short crop of her hair lightly caressed her cheeks.

As the pulsing migraine assaulted me, I somehow managed to lift my unmoving feet.

⸢Kim Dokja made a promise. To end the culprit who made this world. No matter what that existence was.⸥

There were deep bags under the woman’s eyes. It was as if she hadn’t slept properly in years.

⸢Time isn’t moving because not reading and not imagining.⸥

I did think that all of this could be a dream, a lie. I even believed that this was a dream the evil <Star Stream> had created.

I even believed that I could have been the monster waiting past that wall.

But this person, I didn’t expect her to be the one past the full stop. To have met a writer at the place where the creator of a universe of stories resides…

⸢Y ou we re al rea dy ex pec ting this di dn’t you Kim Dok Ja.⸥

Before any story could be described, before it could be read, it had to exist in one person’s dream first.

The author’s.

The Most Ancient Dream. The world’s most omniscient yet powerless god.

“I… am Tls123?”

Han Sooyoung was the first to speak. Her eyes were trembling.

All of my senses were gnawing at me; they said that that woman was the culprit behind all these scenarios.

It was the same for my companions.

I thought I heard something fall to the floor, and I saw Jung Heewon’s sword rolling around on the ground.

“Ah, ah....”

She was now looking at her. She was looking at the woman, then back at Han Sooyoung. Her eyes were filling up with despair.

As if she couldn’t believe this. As if she’d prefer that this whole thing turned out to be a lie.

[The promise with the ‘Secretive Plotter’ is activating.]

I opened my mouth only to close it several times. Maybe, this might be my punishment.

For daring to dream of a perfect ending in which all of us survived. To have come this far, and shed blood for such a hope.

It was as if the universe was telling me there was no such thing.

The Star Stream wasn’t like that. This was a universe of sacrifices and salvation too, was a paid service.

[You have promised to destroy <Star Stream>.]

[<Star Stream> will not be destroyed unless the ‘Most Ancient Dream’ is ended.]

I now stared at the woman.

The woman who gave me every reason to survive in this ruined world.

[Please end the ‘Most Ancient Dream’.]

+++

Sparks overflowed above my Incarnation Body. My heart was madly pounding away. My head faltered, and I somehow managed to suck in several deep breaths.

[The 4th Wall] was right. Maybe, I already knew.

There were simply too many hints.

⸢I was far too lucky in this world, and⸥

⸢Everything in this world seemed to be geared towards my convenience, and⸥

⸢At times, this world even felt sloppy.⸥

If all of these were the result of the guiding hand of a writer who so desperately wished for our survival…

⸢The genesis of all the world-lines, the original world-line.⸥

I raised my head back up, then stepped forward to lift ‘that’ Han Sooyoung into my arms. She felt so light. This small body carried the weight of every sin in the world.

The world written just for me.

An anguished cry came from the rear.

“Sooyoung-ssi, calm down!”

“You bastard! Let me go!”

It was a voice far more devastated than I have ever heard from her. Tears were pouring from her eyes as Jung Heewon and Lee Hyunsung held her by her arms. A dagger was gripped tightly onto one hand while [Black Flames] were bursting from the other.

“That bitch, why the hell would I write a story like this!?”

She continued to thrash about, and even the kids held onto her legs to keep her from taking another step forward to do something foolish. The entire nebula worked together to suppress her, their status raging forth as Han Sooyoung did everything she could to break free of the restraint.

“Something this fucked up—“ Han Sooyoung snarled. “If I had to write a story for this purpose, to write a novel with these… Shit developments…!!“

Han Sooyoung choked on her own tears as she continued to try to force her way past our companions.

“Han Sooyoung.”

It was Yoo Junghyuk who stepped in between them. The one who had lived this tragedy for thousands of lives.

“It has been difficult."

He reduced his tragedies to a mere few words.

“But it’s over now.”

⸢His forgiveness was offered in this manner. ⸥

“Shut up!!”

⸢It only served to break her.⸥

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!!”

Yoo Junghyuk opened his mouth as if to respond, then suddenly doubled over in a coughing fit.

Thick fog came in from somewhere, and I picked up on the ominous power of Chaos. Yoo Junghyuk’s expression as he held the blade became weird.

“Y-you bastard....”

As he staggered about, the pitch-black Fable leaked out from his mouth. That Fable gurgled out and travelled down his chin, hit the floor, and finally, formed the silhouette of a person.

The blade of the [Heaven Shaking Sword] gleamed between the jet-black coat; a man who only lived for this moment was standing there now.

⸢The Secretive Plotter.⸥

The being who had even forgotten about his real name after experiencing an enedless tragedy even past the last sentence of his story. The man who lived only for the purpose of revenge was here.

⸢No human can control every type of imagination.⸥

Just how many universes were born and broken in her mind? Just how many of her imagined tragedies were inherited by just one person?

⸢And that’s why the most ideal person to end this dream had already been determined.⸥

It was the world’s most fair revenge.

So why did I keep holding onto Han Sooyoung this tightly?

[[ It was you. ]]

The Secretive Plotter’s [Heaven Shaking Sword] continued to wander in the air. That sword was now pointed towards its creator.

[[ The being that dreamt and perpetuated every tragedy in all the worldlines. ]]

I only made it this far because of those tragedies she wrote.

It was the story that I loved more than anything. The story I was indebted to.

[[ Kim Dokja. You must end the Most Ancient Dream. ]]

Every letter here was chosen by her hands. By bearing all of these sins, she brought us to this moment.

It was thanks to Han Sooyoung that I managed to survive.

And now it was time to repay my debt.

“Did you forget?”

[‘Demon King’ transformation is activating!]

[‘Archangel’ transformation is activating!]

I smiled gently and with one hand raised my [Unbreakable Faith]. I pulled the sleeping Han Sooyoung closer in the other.

“I didn’t promise to kill people.”

In this place far beyond our full stop, our swords were drawn.

A new story had begun.

[aardappel-van-mijn-oog]

Kamala is doing everything she can lads.

Try and grasp the situation here: she is the presumptive nominee of a party that is comprised of both staunch Israëli opponents and hard line Israëli supporters. She also is going up against a party of exclusively the latter, and wants to try and convince as many people deciding between the Democrats and Republicans to vote for her in November. She cannot afford to lose because if she does, America will turn into a fascist theocracy for the foreseeable future, and then we will all be fucked because America is the most influential country upon global politics.

So Kamala Harris CANNOT AFFORD to say any more than she is saying about the war in Palestine right now, because if she does, she risks losing the support of a large and potentially election-deciding group of swing voters.

I am a supporter of a free and prosperous Palestine. I believe that Israël has no right to exist as a country, and that it is an apartheid state. But I also have some amount of common sense, and I see that there has to be a compromise here. As, it seems, does Kamala Harris. Watch the video above to see what I mean.

I am not a resident of the United States. I live in the Netherlands, where in the last election, the party with the most votes was the party who wants to ban the Qur’ān and close all mosques, advocates for increased and more violent policing, wants to retract the official apologies made for the Netherlands’ involvement in the Slave Trade, and ban puberty blockers. That’s not because most people want to do those things. It’s because people didn’t fucking vote. Well there are more reasons than that but that’s one of the main ones.

So, Americans. From your friends over in Europe. We like you. We don’t want you to live under a fascist theocracy. However, we don’t have the power to stop that. Only you do, and you can do it by putting aside your grievances and seeing the big picture here. In other words,

VOTE FOR KAMALA HARRIS.

I’m not gonna go into all the rest of her policies, but coming from a gay genderqueer socialist I think she’s pretty solid. Obviously she and I don’t agree on everything, but that’s because we’re unique individuals with different personalities, upbringings and backgrounds. Yknow, like how normal society is? I’ve been hearing so much discourse on this kut website and most of it boils down to “she’s not a carbon copy of me so I won’t vote for her”.

Guys, what the fuck happened to the tolerant left? What happened to the people who welcomed different ideas and beliefs? Are they in the room with us now??? Grow up. Go to your silly little American voting website and register to vote. I don’t know which website it is but someone can link it in a reblog or something idk.

And for my European friends. I know we all dislike how much influence American politics has on our lives. I fucking hate it. But we live in a globalised world, for better or worse, so try as best you can to make as many Americans that you know and love vote for Kamala Harris - or whoever it ends up being - come November. That’s the most we can do to ensure the right wing parties of our own countries don’t see Trump and follow in their footsteps. It’s happening in the Netherlands and we are already seeing the consequences over here. I’d talk about them but this post is too long.

TLDR: OI AMERICANS, VOTE BLUE

(pwease :3)

[solaris-amethyst]

💫Did I even deserve you?💫

✨Pairing: Vampire!Seonghwa x dead!gn!reader ✨Prompt: Vampire Seonghwa is still miserable many decades after losing his soulmate. ✨Word Count: 3.4k ✨Genre: angst, vampire au, soulmate au 🌙Warnings: talks of death, reader is mentioned but not alive in this story, no use of y/n, mentions of Seonghwa not feeding for a long period of time, lost of a loved one, mentions of how he wishes he wasn't on this earth anymore, grief, ghosts, let me know if I missed any warnings! ☀️️Authors note: Got this idea into my head and wanted to explore writing angst in this setting. It is very different from what I usually write and I have worked hard on this one and I am quite pleased with the outcome.

The moon was high up in the sky, illuminating the forest in a light wash of grey. Highlighting the fog that is developing the forest and the castle making it look eerie and abandoned. Cobwebs dancing around windows and moss climbing up the bricks together with the roses that are climbing parts of the castle.

Both beautiful and dangerous.

It was said that sometimes you could see ghosts walking past the windows. Some even claimed to have seen a ghost in the rose garden. Walking around and calling out for their beloved but no response.

Young children were warned not to go there. It was dangerous and better to stay away from a place that would most likely fall in a few decades. The road to the castle was brittled with rocks, thick trees and bushes.

It was not a pleasant road.

Despite that there was a lone figure hiking their way up to the castle, dressed in a black robe. The figure was walking very slowly as if every step towards the castle was painful, making him hurt deeply. Despite that, he continued on with heavy footsteps to the one place he called home.

The owl up in the tree hooted familiarly once he was spotted and the howls of wolves could be heard throughout the forest. None of this bothered the man, for he knew that no one would dare to try and hurt him. A man of the night, a bloodthirsty bloodsucker as the humans once had called people like him.

Now he and his family were nothing more than a mere legend.

A myth.

Something humans wrote stories about without believing they actually existed. Sometimes the man wishes he no longer existed in this world.

It would be easier than walking around the world knowing your fated one was no longer walking this earth.

Unfortunately he was doomed to walk this cruel earth until the end of time as it was now.

The closer he got to his home the more dread and sorrow filled his entire being. He used to be filled with such happiness coming back here but now that was all gone.

The grand doors to the castle opened welcoming, sensing one of its masters returning home. The candles lighting up as he entered the hallway and walked down towards the place where he knew his brothers were residing.

They were expecting him after all. Like they do every year around this time when he gets back from his three month search around the world for anyone who could help him bring back his fated one to life.

And like every year he came back unsuccessful.

It was as if the world was taunting him. Taunting him for not being careful enough. For not appreciating what he had and for being arrogant thinking he could best fate and death because of who he was.

Seonghwa

Your voice.

He stopped what he was doing. Only the wind was blowing in from an opened window. The figure looked around carefully, not making much movements, for us mortals it would have looked like he was completely still.

He shook his head gently. It must have been the wind. It cannot have been your voice he heard.

You are no longer here he told himself as he continued his walk towards the room his brothers were in. He could not have heard your voice whisper his name in the wind. You were dead, no longer walking this earth and it felt like his heart was breaking into thousands of pieces every single day when he remembers that.

He remembers your smile, your laughter, your kindness. Everything that he once took for granted he now misses with such intensity that he does not know what to do with himself. It is like the joy he once had is now gone, sucked out of his body leaving behind a cold empty shell.

He starts walking again. He knows his brothers have heard him arrive and he knows that they are waiting for him. The closer he gets the more he can hear them. Shuffling around in the living room, living their normal lives.

Not stricken by grief.

The doors open once again welcoming, just like the front doors to one of its masters returning home and the noise dies down as he steps inside looking around at his family. They are all there. The first ones he notices are the two brunettes sitting together on the sofa. Yunho, Yeosang. Then he sees the them, San, Wooyoung. The latter holding a large book, open on some random page that they seemed to have been discussing before he arrived. He searched for the youngest of his brothers who he found standing next to the tall blond man near the table. Jongho. Mingi. He counted them in his head, he looked around, searching for the leader of his coven. He found him, standing near the big window gazing out into the garden. Hongjoong.

A part of him felt a little better after doing the count. For some reason he had worried they would not all be here when he came back despite the fact that they were always there. No doubt. They would always be here to welcome him home after his long journey.

The blond at the window turned around and when their eyes met he gave him a smile.

"Welcome home Seonghwa. We have missed you." He said taking a few short steps forward to greet him. Taking him into an embrace which he returned.

"I am glad to be back." Seonghwa replied even if it was only half the truth. He was glad to be back seeing his brothers but in reality he was not overly pleased being back without a solution to his suffering.

"How was your journey around the world? Did you find what you were searching for?" Hongjoong questioned even though Seonghwa suspected he already knew the answer to that just like the rest in the room listening in on their conversation.

"Unfortunately I have yet to find someone or something that could help me bring back my loved one." He told him, his shoulders slumping forward. He tried to put on a neutral face but Hongjoong was smart, he could see through his facade quicker than anyone else in their coven. His eyes had shown a glimt of understanding as he nodded carefully.

"You look awful, have you been feeding at all when you have journeyed???" Wooyoungs voice pierced through the air, clearly targeted at him and he could only shrug his shoulders opting not to look at the younger vampire.

"I do not feel hungry anymore Wooyoung." Was the only thing he could give as a response and if he had not already been dead the look Wooyoung sent him would have put him 5 feet under the ground as they spoke.

"You have to feed Seonghwa. It is not healthily to avoid feeding for as long as you have! Lat time I saw you feed was three months ago before you left!" Wooyoung stalked towards him "Are you telling me you have not feed in three months??"

They stared at each other for a long while. He knew all of them already knew the answer. It was the same every year and like every year before this year Wooyoung always grew furious when he figured that he had been neglecting his own health.

Again.

He could feel the energy around him tense up. The others were clearly not happy at all with this and yet despite that Seonghwa could not get himself to care about it. Had it been the other way around he would have been furious, furious at his brothers for ignoring their health and not eating but since it was him and not them he found himself often not caring. He would rather wallow in his grief, allowing the ugly feelings tormenting him to come to the surface in various ways.

"How is my beloved? Are they still safe in their casket?" He asked, voice cracking at the word beloved.

The very thought of you not being there or the possibility of something happening to you whilst he was gone was terrifying to him and he had to fight hard to stop the tears wanting to well up in his eyes.

Wooyoungs furious eyes soften instantly when he had asked the question and the other looked at him with sympathy. Yunho nodded confirming that you were still safe, still protected in the garden he had grown just for you.

"They are safe Seonghwa. We have made sure nothing could harm them whilst you were away." San said, giving him that kind smile only San could give someone when they needed it the most. Seonghwa felt like he could see the stars in his brothers eyes at that moment and it never failed to amaze him how much love and adoration could be seen in Sans eyes and how it was always something very real. It never faded or changed no matter how many decades had passed and right now he was thankful for it.

For the love and compassion his brothers were showing him.

"Why do you not sit down? Tell us about your journey? What has changed in the world since last time you went outside?" Hongjoong questioned whilst leading him over to the big chair, gently guiding him to eventually sit down in it. A blanket was placed over him, Mingi moving with utmost care to wrap it around him to keep him warm. He almost let words of protests out until he saw the worry in his eyes.

"Your beloved would not want you neglecting yourself like this." Was all he said with a low rumble before standing up and walking over to Jongho.

That stung.

His heart ached at the comment Mingi had said. Everyone had heard it. It was impossible for them not to hear him. They just pretended like nothing had been said but he knew they were silently agreeing with him. Agreeing with the statement that you, his beloved, who no longer walked this earth, would not want him to neglect himself and his health.

He wants to respond. To deny what Mingi has said. He has rationalized in his head that you would be okay with what he is doing so he can bring you back and the two of you can live together again like you did before.

The rest of his coven sits down all looking at him with curious eyes. Waiting for him to start telling them about his journey.

"It is all the same. Nothing has really changed in the outside world. We are still myths and legends. The only thing that has changed amongst humans is their greed. I would say they have become even greedier and distrusting than before."

"Humans have always been greedy and distrusting Seonghwa." Hongjoong cut him off before sending an apologetic look when he glared at his coven leader.

"I would say they are even more so now than before. I searched through every country on this bloody earth and I found no one. No one who could help me bring my beloved back. The sights I saw when wandering should have taken my breath away but all it did was make me angry. Furious that they were not next to me witnessing it all. At one point on a cliff looking out at the ocean I screamed. I cursed everything living and dead that day. I was so angry and I still am." Seonghwa spoke, his hands fiddling with the blanket as his eyes darken in anger.

His brothers look at each other in worry. They had hoped after many decade that Seonghwas fury and anger would dwindle down but it only seemed to grow with each year. Wooyoung looked at his older brother and friend in sorrow, he had been close to you, Seonghwas beloved, when you were still living and breathing. He understood the pain and anger Seonghwa was feeling but he also knew that you would not wish this upon anyone. Once having confided in him that you would want them to move forward to be happy, not to forget but to eventually come to cherish what had been rather than constantly living in the past thinking of what you could have done together if only things had gone differently.

"And I-" Seonghwa started but stopped once he heard it again.

Seonghwa.

He looked around. He swore he had heard your voice again. This time it could not have been the wind for no window was open.

"Hwa? What is wrong?" Yunhos voice brought him back from his thoughts as he turned to look at him.

"Y-you did not hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head "It was nothing."

"Perhaps you should go and rest?" Yeosang chimed in and the others agreed, nodding their heads.

Seonghwa looked at them before glancing around again, he was sure he heard you but now since none other than him seems to have heard you he wonders if some rest would actually help him.

So he nods and he can see the other's shoulders drop down in relaxation as if they had been expecting him to put up a fight and argue with them about resting.

"Perhaps I should... but I would like to go see them first." He feels stupid, like a child asking for permission to do something when he is the oldest in the coven. He could do whatever he wanted and if that was to go out into the rose garden and visit you then he could without permission.

He stands up before anyone can answer what he has said, he lays the blanket back on the chair before he strides towards another sets of doors which will lead him back to a corridor and down a few flight of stairs before he can enter the garden.

The doors open immediately for him and he makes a point of quietly thanking the castle for opening its doors for him. He remembers the first time he had gone out on his three month journey. When he had come back inconsolable wanting to leave that room to go see you the castle had refused. Refused to open its doors and windows for its master to go wherever he pleased.

Not until he had calmed down and only the silent tears were staining his cheeks had he been allowed out. It was after his brothers had held him close, allowing him to grieve in safety and then being given a cup of blood to drink by Wooyoung to help stabilize himself.

After that the castle had always listened to him. And now he was walking with a sense of purpose, he had to see you again. It always pains him to be away from you for three months when he spends almost every single day around you. Tending to the roses or cleaning the glass casket you lay inside whilst talking quietly to you about his days or how much he misses you.

As he walks out of the door and into the garden he stops in his tracks when he sees something or rather someone walking ahead of him.

You.

He cannot stop himself before he rushes forward and just as he is to grab your hand you vanish.

"No... No no no no no!" He mumbles to himself, now sprinting towards the rose garden, you cannot be gone.

You cannot.

Seonghwa almost trips over the steps leading up to where you lay and he stops at the casket breathing heavily gripping it tightly as he takes you in.

You are still there. Untouched. Just like the way you had been when he had left three months ago.

"My beloved." He whispers and just like that the tears are welling up again in his eyes.

Seonghwa. My love.

Seonghwa gasps as he hears your voice again turning around since he can hear your voice from behind him. He had not expected to actually see you. You are pale, standing there and he notes as he falls down on his knees in shock that you are slightly transparent.

"My beloved. My love." He says while the first tear fall down his pale cheek. His voice is growing thick with emotion and when you look at him with those sad eyes he cannot help himself from crawling up to you trying to take ahold of your hand in his only to realize he is unable to.

"No. Please no. Please." He whimpers looking up at you as the waterworks starts afresh.

You have to let me go.

"No! No no no no please I cannot do that. Please I am sorry I cannot live in a world without you. Please do not leave me." He pleads over and over again trying to take ahold of you but he keeps going through you. His eyes looks almost wild as he tries everything to be able to hold you.

You can see how his heart breaks over and over at not being able to hold you and you know you cannot be visible for much longer.

I love you.

When Seonghwa notices that you are disappearing from his view is when he goes into hysterics. He wails for you to come back to him, he screams in fear, anger and grief and it echos loudly throughout the entire forest. He roars in anger, smashing a statue before breaking down again near the casket. Sobbing over and over again that he is sorry, that he wishes you would come back to him. He asks for death to take him once and for all so he can reunite with you.

He grips his head as he cries, wails and screams in fury and sadness. It is like an explosion he cannot control. Seonghwa is unsure of how much time has passed but he finds that he does not care. All he cares about is that he saw you and he could not hold you one last time like he wished he could. He contemplates for a moment to destroy your casket just so he could hold you in his arms again but he physically cannot make that move.

He cannot destroy your last sleeping place. That would be like spitting on your entire existence if he did, so he finds himself hurting himself and the statues and rose bushes around himself in a fit of anger.

Up in the castle seven figures are looking out of the window from the room they still were in. Hearing Seonghwas wails of agony and grief pained them. It was as if someone was driving a spear into their non-beating heart over and over again.

"I wish I could take away all his pain and suffering. All this grief." Jongho mumbles before leaning close to Hongjoong, hiding his face in the crook of his leaders neck as said man brings an arm around him to bring comfort.

"I never want to find my soulmate... It will only bring even more anguish to him. He will constantly be reminded of his own soulmate who he no longer has. I do not want to make him go through that." San says, tears building up in his eyes.

"You cannot stop it from happening San. Do not deprive yourself of the happiness of finding your soulmate because Seonghwa lost his. That is not something he would want. He would want you to be happy. You know that San." Yunho said whilst giving the younger a sad smile, tears also in his eyes as Seonghwa continues to scream and wail out apologies, curse words and asking for you to come back to him.

"Grief... What is not grief if not love persevering. It is proof of how much he has loved and cherished his beloved. He was just too blind in the moment that he thought he could best death and now all these years later after death won he cannot handle it. Because he has yet to fully accept that they are gone. He has yet to accept that they are gone. It might take years until he gets over the stages of anger, denial, depression and guilt. We will be there to help him through it all. I was thinking of going with him next year so he will not be alone on his journey." Hongjoong says eyes sharply focused on the figure down below.

Eyes slightly widening when he sees something or someone behind his brother before it disappears. He could have sworn it looked like you but he must have been wrong. It was probably the tears in his eyes clouding his vision.

It could not have been you.

You were dead.

Gone.

Forever.

[sorceresssundries]

The Stars of Simril

Pairing: Gale x Tav (gn)

Summary: Gale and Tav sit together on the night of Simril, stargazing and storytelling. SFW.

Find it on AO3

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: This was all @alpydk's beautiful idea!! All I did was try and breathe a little life into it. I hope you like it.

'Simril was chiefly celebrated after dark, when the stars were visible across the sky. Celebrants located stars associated with their own births, or with their ancestors. Those without a lucky star could purchase star maps from merchants to help divine which belonged to them, based on when and where they were born. Cloudy weather was considered especially favorable on Simril, as finding one's star on an overcast sky was viewed as a blessing from Tymora. Simril was celebrated outside, with people trying to stay awake the entire night gathered around bonfires with plenty of music, food, and warm drinks.'

Gale Dekarios sat atop an old, abandoned rooftop underneath an obscured night sky and thought of his mother. Back home in Waterdeep, the city would be alive with laughter and music, the streets would be filled with the chiming joy of children energised by the thrill of the nightlong festival of Simril. They would eat sweets, dance to music and no doubt be fast asleep in the arms of relieved parents before dawn broke. But, for a little while, bedtime was a burden for tomorrow and tonight was for finding stars and receiving blessings. 

Ever since Gale was a boy, he and his mother had their own cherished tradition. The stakes were simple but high - the first to spot a Dekarios star would earn a silver shard, to be cast into the harbour waters with a wish. Gale's mother had always assured him that wishes made under the family's lucky star on the night of Simril were destined to come true. Gale would win every year, and it was only now he was alone, he realised it was because she always let him. It pained Gale to think that, year after year, he had wished for new magic, power, or knowledge. All he wished for now was the warm familiarity of home.

From down here, the vast expanse of space appeared serene and tranquil. It was almost impossible to believe it held a symphony of life echoing through the planes. Perhaps, he pondered, there existed another soul on a distant world, beneath another clouded sky, gazing upward and thinking of their mother. He hoped so. It made him feel a little less alone.

“Care for some company?” Gale turned to see Tav at the top of the ladder, clutching a bottle of wine and two glasses. He should have known they would find his hiding spot. He supposed taking a blanket up to an abandoned rooftop in the wilderness wasn’t exactly subtle. He was glad Tav found him. 

“Only if it’s yours” he said with a smile, and turned his face back towards the sky.

“You’ve picked a poor night for stargazing” Tav placed themselves on the blanket next to him, and their familiar, comforting woodsy scent wrapped round him and reminded him of the giant bonfires which would send smoke up to the star-speckled Waterdhavian sky. 

“Ah, that is where you are wrong.” He looked at Tav with a glint of magic in the warmth of his eyes. “A cloudy sky is a good omen on the night of Simril. If you manage to find your star when the sky is overcast, you are granted a blessing from Tymora. The lady of luck herself.”

“Your star?” Tav laughed but was not surprised. If anyone was to have ownership of a star, it would be Gale. 

“Every resident of Waterdeep has a star associated with them. Chosen based on birth and ancestry. Mine is up there, somewhere.” His voice sounded wistful, and Tav knew he was aching for his home. They didn’t say anything, just joined him in his silence and waited for him to continue.

“Some years, the sky was so clear and stars so bright you could practically breathe them in. As a child, I would spend the whole evening with moon-filled eyes and lungs full of stardust. I would stay up all night and watch my star, thinking it belonged to me.” Tav thought they saw a shimmer in his eyes, but it was quickly blinked away. “How odd, to think of the naiveties we grow out of; to think there was a whole person fighting through sleep to hang his small childlike hopes on a star that was never his.”

Tav let the moment sit, and considered their own past. “I wish I had a star” they whispered with soft longing.

“Well then, come on!" Gale rose to his feet, extending a hand to lift Tav up beside him. With a graceful sweep of his hand and a whispered incantation, he commanded the sky to transform, shedding its veil to reveal a pristine expanse of stars shimmering above them. Though they remained on their rooftop, it felt as though the heavens had opened up just to grant them a few hours of unobstructed wonder. Gale's voice was a soft murmur as he turned to Tav, excitement flashing in his eyes. "Let's find you a star."

“Isn’t this cheating?” Tav laughed “I thought part of the custom was to find your lucky star in spite of the clouds?’

“Let’s make our own luck shall we?”

Positioned behind Tav, Gale gently placed a hand on their waist, the warmth of his touch grounding them as they both gazed up at the celestial display. With his free hand, he began to trace a path among the twinkling lights, pointing out constellations that clustered together like families. He explained the stories behind them with the bright, clear confidence of someone who knew them by heart. He painted the night sky with the vibrant hues of mythology and wonder.

He spoke of Belnimbra's Belt, a constellation of five stars named for the legend of the first human female to have been turned into a swanmay. He recounted how she was relentlessly pursued by Lathander, God of the rising Dawn.

His hand swept across the Galleon Nebula, and his arm tightened around Tav’s waist as he spoke with soft reverie about how it is two million miles long and resembles a celestial ship forever destined to row itself across the sea of night. 

He told of the tragedy of Cassima, a maiden who was accused of evil witchcraft and burned at the stake. Selûne took pity on her, and transformed Cassima into a phoenix to rise in glory and join her in the heavens. Her star still flames bright in defiance of those who condemned her.

After he finished, he ran his hand along Tav’s bare arm and lifted their hand with his own to point out unmentioned stars.

“Pick one, and it’s yours” His voice was a delicate promise. “In hundreds of years time, lovestruck fools will tell your heroic story under a cloudy, Simril sky to enchant their beloved, and the other stars will flicker with envy.”

Tav blushed and nudged him playfully. “I’m no hero, wizard. Just a lost soul”. The sky, which to Gale was a memorised book of well-loved stories in a familiar language, was to Tav nothing more than a blank canvas of light and mirrors, blinking their own loneliness back at them. Tav knew as little of the stars as they did their own past.

“I don’t know anything about my birth or my ancestors, or even the stars. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well, then it’s lucky you’re with an astronomical expert.” He pointed their entwined hands at a small, clear light a little way apart from the larger groups. The slightly brighter of two stars so close they almost looked like they were touching. 

“What about that one?” Gale was holding Tav so tightly now it could not be described as anything other than an embrace. Tav could feel the steady rise-and-fall of his chest against their back, and the rhythm of it calmed their dancing heart.

“I like that one, what’s it called?”

“Not all of them have a name yet, that one is unclaimed. A clean slate. All yours.” his thumb stroked Tav’s wrist as he brought their arm back down, and he wrapped himself around them fully. “Of course, you will have to be ok with sharing a little bit of the night sky” Tav thought they felt a soft kiss against their hair. “I picked the one right next to mine.”

Tav didn’t say anything, but Gale felt a warm tear fall against the skin of his arm. They stayed there for a while, stargazing, until the dull ache of tiredness started to crack through Gale’s illusion. Soon it would be the end of Simril, and the start of a new day. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get your lucky blessing” said Tav as they descended the ladder. 

“That’s ok.” He offered with the warmth Tav’s company had re-ignited in him. “Who needs lady luck, when I have you looking out for me?” 

“Speaking of which!...” Tav said with excitement. “I found a whole collection of enchanted rings buried in the village, so you should be set for a while..” 

The two of them walked together back to camp, laughing and chatting with the ease of two people falling in love - their hands occasionally brushing against each other, mirroring two almost-touching stars which had just appeared, faint and winking, in the sky above them.

Back in Waterdeep, A tired Morena Dekarios stood at Deepwater harbour, looking up at the distant light of her son’s star. Not as bright as it had been, nor as bright as it would be. But still there, nonetheless - defiant and hopeful. She cast a silver shard into the moonlit water and wished that, somewhere, her son was safe and cared for.

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

The new W Corp Event definitely has caused me to think a lot more deeply about W Corp...

...and how its stagnation shows something of a bit of hope in the city. That absolute cruelty cannot be absolutely sustained.

I think the big thing is how while Lobotomy Corporation's dissolution and the plan Ayin carried out was meant to be the thing that changed everything, really Angela's choices made it so it wouldn't go through.

But here's the thing. Angela may very well be the strongest of all of them.

She withstood eternity.

She saw those who couldn't withstand it in the WARP, and was disgusted.

I think what makes the eternity in the WARP Trains so just, awful is that the residents of The City sort of live without hope.

They won't connect with one another, if they do it is in a broken and warped way. The connection is either made with violence, or through desperation, like they truly don't like the idea of connection, or have such a conservative idea of it that you end up with scenarios like "Love Town".

Even in the recent event, you see that one of the only way someone can take pleasure in this sort of eternity, is to treat it as a banquet. A kingdom. Cannibalism. I believe that W Corp can be linked to a thematic cannibalism. The metaphor here doesn't have any warmth though, it's a cannibalism of the human spirit.

We see this in the Sinners W Corp IDs.

Notice how the light has so clearly left their eyes?

Hong Lu's demeanor rings incredibly hollow, his smile having the most false appearance out of all his IDs. Don Quixote's joyful spirit has been crushed. Faust in this world feels like a very sorrowful being, sort of making one think about Faust as a more sorrowful character. That Fausts like W Faust exist, existing in such a jaded, hopeless state. Meursault does what he must do for the Wing, but I would imagine he is totally lost because of that. Ryoshu seems to delight in the halls of gore, but I don't think this is a good thing, if anything it shows her totally going off the deep end, and Outis seems like she's become completely lost in her Odyssey...

All of which have been sort of devoured by the cruelty of it all. That they cut apart and put back together pieces of their fellow humans in such a way. It feels different than the death that follows the war-like environment of the general city, because most of these people were normal. Most of these people could have been parents, with children. They could have been truly upstanding individuals, they could have been many things...

However, since the people of the City lack hope, lack warmth, lack pleasure, they cannot withstand eternity. They cannot withstand impossibly slowed time. They cannot do any of it, and will only be consumed.

However... this cruelty... all the time of all the people sent off on the WARP Trains...

It seems like a fairly recent invention all things considered...

Even if the time by now is enough to wrap around the entire history of life on Earth by now, spent in the WARP...

There is something about the idea that. It can end. People don't take pleasure in this. It brings out the worst of The City in such a drastic way, that surely it cannot be sustained...

That and the collapse of Lobotomy Corporation has just been a net positive for. Everyone.

Just look at how the Sephiriah are in Ruina! Look at how Angela found herself! Look at how they still stand, looking at the city, representing a new beginning, a new hope!

The eternity in those trains may be awful, but there is a way through it all... it will end one day... just like how the eternity in those trains end...

Just like how they have found entire WARP Trains full of people holding hands... there is a way through it all, there is still humanity in the wake of all this madness...

Hell just. Look at how Don Quixote knew how the Bloodfiend would have these people fade away, never to return. She would rather face eternity than to accept a scenario where these people never come back, and that is quite powerful.

Really it is all so interesting. Horrific beyond belief, but so interesting...

[bimboothefool]

Reader was taken kidnapped by Wally and taken to his world. But what Wally didn't expect is that all the other characters would start to remember memories with the reader as a child and discover the truth of their colorful world.

( Now it's up to you to decide what will happen! Will they help the reader get back to the real world or will they become so attached to the reader that it would help Wally keep them there with them FOREVER. )

ℌ𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶 ℑ’𝔪 ℌ𝔬𝔪𝔢

𝔗𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔰: Kidnapping, Yandere Behavior (You know the drill keep this shit in fiction.), Stockholm Syndrome, Amnesia, Possessive Behavior, Wally manipulating the others, and Gaslighting

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯’𝔰 𝔏𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯: Thank you so much for this request and I apologize for taking so long so much came up, but regardless thanks for the request let’s jump right in!! Keep in mind it could either be read as platonic or romantic regardless spoiler alert they don’t see you grow up.

- Wally was surprised to see you after all these years. Same thing with the rest of the crew, your eyes are definitely different instead of that whimsy you’ve once held. You’re rather cautious, it still wows them how different you are now.

- Wally did believe for the time being that he’s the only one who truly remembers you and for a while that’s true. But once you’re in their world things started to change.

- Eddie and Frank are the first few to notice that you looked oddly familiar. When he asked specific questions about your childhood it started to click for him.

- Sally and Julie are shocked that you remembered the lines of a play or the rules of a game. They start to ask themselves the same questions why do you look so familiar yet different.

- Howdy, Poppy and Barnaby are a bit unnerved when you remember stuff like the residents orders or certain joke punchlines. Even certain recipe ingredients. How come you know those things.

- They all meet together to discuss the possibility of how they felt so familiar with you, but this is seemingly their first time meeting you. They all come to the conclusion that they’ve met you before. [Excluding Wally since he fully remembers you.]

- For a while they’re all happy to have you back, but you’re getting homesick. You constantly ask questions on how to get back to your world. But they’re not even sure if it’s possible.

- But only Wally knows a way in and out of their world and keeps it out of your grasp. He even starts manipulating the others.

- “We have them back, why let them go now? Don’t you all miss having our best friend?” He asked the others as they’re all conflicted. Sure they miss you and love you, but was keeping you here really right?

- This could go one of two ways. The first being they do buy into Wally’s twisted line of thinking, why go back to such a troubled and dangerous world? You can stay here and everyday is nothing, but joy and laughter.

- They’ll start gaslighting you into buying into this logic as well, which really freaks you out and you start lashing out. They see this as you throwing a tantrum.

- Another way this can go down, they aren’t sure and start asking you why you want to go home. And you explain that yeah your world isn’t perfect, but it’s still your home.

- Soon they all start talking about how to get you back home, out of Wally’s watchful eyes. You all start to unraveling and untying the mysteries of their world and Wally’s existence.

- Either way it’s ultimately up to you to really choose your own path on how things will play out.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoy my stuff please feel free to check out my other stories from other fandoms, along with reblogging and commenting on it! If you like my art and wanna commission me for some art, head over to my kofi!

[tornrose24]

A ghostly theory that connects Gravity Falls and The Ghost and Molly Mcgee.

There’s a huge part of me that wants to believe that Gravity Falls and The Ghost and Molly Mcgee take place within the same universe, and I came upon some interesting ideas that support just how close that could be, as well as what could happen if Scratch (as a ghost) ever came to Gravity Falls.

So let’s get the obvious out of the way–the way ghosts are depicted in the shows are completely different. GF ghosts retain a somewhat human appearance, while TGAMM ghosts only have slight elements of their original human forms.

So there’s no way they could be in the same universe, correct?

Well, I want to add another factor into this–the Haunted Mansion.

The Haunted Mansion is not only confirmed to exist in TGAMM thanks to Ollie mentioning it in the season 2 premiere episode but in a Disney’s Random Rings short, Scratch is shown to be calling the residents in the mansion in an attempt to secure a place of residency.

But here’s the thing–HM ghosts don’t resemble the TGAMM ghosts. Much like the GF ghosts, they retain a human appearance (Constance) or at least keep a humanoid appearance (The Hat Box Ghost).

(Notice how Constance looks a tad closer to the ghostly couple from Gravity Falls in retaining a more human form, compared to Scratch. You only have a few clues to what he looked like as a human).

This begs the question as to why the hell is that possible.

So here is my theory.

Gravity Falls has already been established as a ‘weirdness magnet’ thanks to a history of paranormal events–a sort of gateway between dimensions even–and was a place that Bill Cipher (a very powerful, dangerous entity) was especially attracted to. Unsurprisingly, it would be a magnet for ghosts.

As for the Haunted Mansion, its main location (New Orleans, Louisiana) has had a long supernatural history to begin with. It’s likely that all the ghosts gathering at this one mansion (combined with its own history) turned it into a weirdness magnet, like Gravity Falls. However, the mansion is NOT as powerful as Gravity Falls given that the land around the town has been attracting a lot of strangeness ever since the time of the dinosaurs and a UFO crashed into the area.

Now recall when I said that the ghosts in that HM short and the GF ghosts retain a somewhat human appearance? Well here’s my theory–

The amount of paranormal energy in Gravity Falls and the Haunted Mansion is what allows their ghosts to keep a more human form, compared to the TGMM ghosts. Not even the Ghost World has whatever this energy is. It’s also likely that these places are safe havens from the Ghost World since having to work for The Chairman binds you to an eternal job that you cannot get out of due to the eternal consequence of getting sent to the Flow of Failed Phantoms if you screw up.

Furthering the connection, GF also has concepts of corrupted ghosts, unfinished business, and even wraiths. (By the way, this took a bit of rewatching and looking through the books to confirm some things).

The most obvious corrupted ghost with unfinished business? None other than the ghost lumberjack Archibald Courderoy (who may be Wendy’s ancestor). A ghost who (along with his men) was screwed over by the family they bought a house for and even placed a curse upon them that could only be lifted if one of their own allowed the common folk to enter the mansion during one of their parties. Does any of that sound slightly familiar? Especially the curse bit? Dipper categorized this kind of ghost as a Category 11: Demonic Vengeance Specter in Journal 3. Someone even more dangerous than a category 10 (where the Grim Reaper is placed).

The convenience store ghosts? Again, supernatural powers, the ability to curse people, etc. As for their unfinished business…. Did Dipper dancing in that costume count? I don’t know on this one. In one of the GF books, Dipper talks about the concept of unfinished business when discussing that incident and he does mention that this is when a ghost is obsessed with something that they were unable to accomplish in life. For a TGAMM fan, this makes the lumberjack ghost comparable to Howlin’ Harriet, (who was far into corruption and obsessed over getting new toes) or Blair and Sonya (who were obsessed over an unreturned video and practicing a routine).

Ok, now the big one–as my friend @jackie-gremlin-ghost  and I have discussed, the concept of wraiths (the ghost of a person who is still alive) also applies to GF because Dipper himself became a ghost-like being when Bill took over his still-living body and forced his soul out of it. Bill tells Dipper he’s ‘basically a ghost’ and Dipper himself confirms this in the collection of bedtime stories. And Bill was free to possess Dipper’s body–as well as Ford’s–much like Scratch possessed Molly’s body in the body swap episode of TGAMM.

(Bill posessing Dipper's body while Dipper is basically the GF version of a wraith. However, GF wraiths seem to retain their human coloration to a degree....)

(....Meanwhile, in TGAMM wraiths look no different than regular ghosts. There's no way to spot the difference.)

But wraiths in TGAMM are visible, so why isn’t Dipper? Because Bill didn’t WANT him to be visible and also Bill is far more powerful than a mere ghost. However, Dipper’s spirit is still able to take on a human appearance–more so than the actual ghosts of Gravity Falls. He’s still able to do things like possess objects, but it’s likely Bill would have depowered Dipper severely.

And of course, if Bill succeeded in his plans and killed Dipper’s body, its confirmed that Dipper’s soul would have been still wandering around in some form. Dipper could have also been prone to corruption (as hinted at for one timeline in The Book of Bill). But if Bill kept Dipper’s body alive, and the consequence of staying as a wraith for too long applied to Dipper? Oh Dipper would have been SCREWED big time. (And as shown in The Book of Bill, Ford could have ended up with those same fates too, given how toxic his relationship with Bill was getting).

So now back to Scratch.

My guess is that if he went to Gravity Falls (or the Haunted Mansion), then he’d be subjected to the weird energy that surrounds it. In turn, this could potentially change his appearance from resembling a floating blue ghost to taking on a more human–but still ghostly–appearance. And…. Well… let’s just say that he’d be in for one hell of a surprise if that happened.

[spitfaggot]

another fun thing about bootblacking — it's as much of a kink as it isn't.

and by this, i mean: it's labor!

we have to look beyond kink into the vanilla/non-kink world to see the only remaining examples of shoe care as a job. the only examples i can think of are shoe-cleaning mall kiosks and, maybe, a chair or two in an airport terminal or fancy hotel. but these places are dwindling, if they even still remain at all. consumerism and planned obsolescence has invaded fashion so much that most people aren't concerned with the upkeep of their actual leather shoes, let alone sneakers or pleather boots.

(edit: cobblers and shoe repair most certainly count, but in this instance i'm referring to chairs or kiosks that maintain the footwear without disassembling it, although there are many bootblacks that can provide services like these.)

this, compounded with the cost barrier to leather gear and a much smaller community post-AIDS of the 1980's i believe has made bootblacking much more scarce in kink circles. i mentored under a bootblack that primarily works bars and club events, and have gone on to do the same myself, and... not many people even know what a bootblack is anymore. i've met people in full cow at the local Eagle who have never even heard of our existence. i was in the right place at the right time and met the right people in order to be able to sub/apprentice under one, and that in itself is a privelege nowadays. instructional videos are lovely, but there's nothing like working with the real thing to practice.

getting booked at events is a headache in and of itself, which is where the talk of labor comes in. if you are bootblacking, you are doing physical labor. it doesn't matter if you're working a pup social at a leather bar, or a private residence party, it is labor. on average, i scrub and polish a shift at a bar event for 5 hours (8pm to 1am) with very few breaks. on a good night, i can polish usually 6 or 7 customers in that 5 hour shift, and that's if nobody comes to me with a Langlitz project or a full set of chaps. tipping your bootblack is crucial, because 90% of the time, that's how we make any money at all.

bootblacking is how i have kept my boyfriend, my cats and i fed many times. and it is very hard to find an event nowadays that will pay a bootblack up front to be there for the night — most just "allow you to keep tips" and maybe comp you a drink or two. at this point i just have a menu of my services that i provide, and i turn away folks who cannot pay or barter. (i, personally, will take coffee as payment for boots and harnesses.) this often means i make less than minimum wage for 5 hours of physical labor.

my point being: bootblacking is a kink, but it will likely be found today more often as a job leatherfolk will take up at an event, much like a vendor. the more public adult spaces where we can actually express it as a kink the better, and those are growing incredibly scarce. and the people willing to pay us even more so, despite how much upkeep leather gear like boots and jackets should be getting.

[foursaints]

ok the topic of barty crouch jr and the bone motif came up, but his specific phrasing here is what really sticks in my brain & is the basis of my stance on barty’s story as an allegory for bodily autonomy. yes there is something obviously satisfying in a character who spent 12 years under imperius, his body used a puppet, choosing to murder his abuser through transfiguration rather than a more conventional method like the killing curse. this is the only instance of death-by-transfiguration in the series. but i think the way he phrases this (became a bone, not ‘turned into’) belies a deeper understanding of barty’s relationship to having a body in general.

barty crouch being denied bodily autonomy goes far deeper than the imperius curse. i see it as sort of a haunting refrain that characterizes his entire life actually. he goes from servitude, to imprisonment, to switching bodies with his mother, to the imperius curse (kept under an invisibility cloak— he can’t even see himself), to the polyjuice potion, to that ironic “death” by the dementor’s kiss; his body goes on without his soul. it’s worth noting that the only time barty appears on-page as himself his body is controlled (yet again!) and forced to speak under veristaserum. do you think there was a strange comfort in that, for him? i just mean that he’s never known anything else.

i want to look at this through a hypochondriacal lens, where the experience of having a body (or being embodied) is a contestatory relationship wherein the mind strives for order/structure/immutability but the body is inescapable— it brings disorder, change, and a continual loss of control. the body is both fundamentally unknowable and hurtling towards death and illness: the hypochondriac seeks to rationalize & control this, but it’s ultimately an exercise in futility. i see these anxieties really present in barty crouch jr’s character: someone whose body has been puppeted or transformed into a different shape more than it has actually been his own.

i’m not saying that barty IS a hypochondriac (he’s not), but that his character arc functions inside the same epistemological framework: one where the unruly body is a prison because of how it’s subject to/harbinger of continual change. but this relies on a really clear division of the body and mind as separate entities. or even, like, a division between the body and this more ephemeral idea of “the self”— a soul that resides in the body but is somehow separate from it (and we know the soul is canon in the world of harry potter). barty crouch collapses this dichtonomy in a really interesting way with his statement: his father became a bone. as in, he is no longer himself and he is just that bone now. barty is introducing the idea that the soul doesn’t really matter or even exist, and that once your body takes the shape of something you fundamentally are that thing, for better or worse.

and i don’t know! this strikes me, especially coming from a man who has lived twelve years as an empty vessel— why would he believe in a soul if his has been erased and overwritten so many times? his own sense of self is too stifled and warped and stunted. this is the same character who was able to embody moody so fully and convincingly that it was impossible for even dumbledore to tell the difference. i think this was possible because of barty’s weird relationship to embodiment, where his actual “self” is hazy and loosely defined— perhaps the result of so many years having it denied, stifled, or unable to develop— but he becomes whatever shape his body is taking. (it’s interesting to note, too, that barty didn’t say that he transfigured his father. rather, he “transfigured [his father’s] body”, and this was enough for his identity to dissipate and him to become something else). to barty, the “self” is not an independent entity that is subject to the body’s change and disorder— his “self” is the very body itself, and all the fear, and change, and loss of control that comes with it.

this is why the ending with the dementor’s kiss gets me so bad. if the body is all he really is, then this fate is the perfect closure. barty is finally reduced to all he has ever been: erased. an empty vessel. just the image of himself, with nothing inside it. what’s really changed?

[bugsbenefit]

closest to canon Hawkins we can get

this is the map used in s2 and shows up in the canon show as well as in World's Turned Upside Down (also used as the base for most official artwork of Hawkins). as of now it's the most accurate map we have

there have been a few other maps on the show but those deviate a lot from what's seen in canon (like Bob's map showing a river near the town center that isn't really there). the only inconsistency with This map is that the County Coroner is a bit further south than in canon and that some locations that are referred to as "streets" in the show are marked as "roads" or "avenues" here. those are all minor changes though so as far as canon goes. this is the best map we've got

blue - bodies of water, white - buildings, green - residences, gray - streets, yellowish - speculative/not listed on the map but implied through the actual show

also, to explain further, i didn't make these locations up. all buildings in white and streets are already marked on the map, most of them are extremely hard to read and i just put more legible text on top. the Wheelers, Sinclairs, and Mayfields houses aren't listed but are easy to locate since their street names are on the map. only the yellow squares aren't explicitly confirmed on the map and are technically speculative since i added them based on canon information

(explanation of the reasoning for those placements under the cut for anyone that's interested. bc, personally, i hate seeing maps online that make plainly wrong claims without even trying to explain how they got there)

just starting off, almost every version of this map places the Wheeler and Sinclair home further north than me which is canonically false. those maps use a wrong scale. Lucas and Mike are almost next door neighbors (there is only One house number between theirs, but that house could also be located across the road from them, making them actual next door neighbors). also, Maple Street starts further south than a lot of people using this map seem to acknowledge. the actual order of the two houses is up for debate and could easily be switched though

Melvad's is technically also speculative since it isn't listed on the map (only the cinema and police station are). but looking at the town square in the show and the irl location of the stores you can pinpoint it's position

"Weathertop", the highest area in Hawkins, which is where Cerebro is located in s3. since the town is shown to be behind Starcourt when positioned on Wheatertop, the hill has to be located behind the mall

Hopper's trailer is shown to be next to a lake and only features in s1, the shape of the lake matches Lake Tippecanoe the closest but i'm not dead set on this

Benny's Burgers is canonically on Randolph Lane, the map doesn't feature this road but has a Randolph Way instead. it might be an entirely different road, or Randolph lane could be an unmarked offshoot of the marked Randolph Way. however, since Randolph Way leads out of Hawkins into a forested area near HNL and the forest the party looked for Will in, the general location of the road is probably a good guess for it's location

Mrs Driscoll's home is somewhere on Cornwallis Street. we don't know where on the street, but it's there somewhere. (the same also goes for the motel Billy and Karen wanted to meet up at, but since we never even saw the location i didn't mark it on the map)

the Brimborn Steelworks are on Cherry Oak Drive, accessible when driving down Cornwallis. the street Cherry Oak Drive also doesn't exist on the map. however, a street called Cherry Avenue conveniently directly connects to Cornwallis so i'm inclined to believe that's where the Steelwork is located (Cherry Oak Drive could also be an offshoot of Cherry Avenue or it could just be an inconsistency sploof)

the Byers home is marked twice on the map since it could be located on either road leading away from Mirkwood (Kerley or Cornwallis)

Skull rock and Reefer Rick's Cabin are both located at Lovers Lake but since we don't know their exact locations they're technically speculative

Garrot Street is only implied by canon and it's probably the loosest connection on here. Skull Rock is noted to be near "Cornwallis and Garrot". there is only two major/big roads noted near lovers lake, one of them is Cornwallis, the other one would then most likely be Garrot (also made likelier by the fact that the actual name of the road is completely illegible on the map and could be anything)

also note. the Eno River is also on this map, but i had to crop it a bit to fit a reasonable scale. it would be in the far northwest of the map (the south-most tip of it is still visible)

locations that become relevant later on and aren't marked on the map, that also aren't locatable through additional canon information would be things like Max's old home, the Roane Hill Cemetery, the Creel House on Morehead, and Pennhurst (even though we don't know if Pennhurst is actually in the Hawkins map are). also things like the community pool in s3 or town hall in s4 don't show up either

[jeyneofpoole]

hello as a resident franklin expedition person do you have any recommendations for further reading about it/polar history in general?

yes!!!!! for dipping your toes into the franklin expedition specifically i would start with erebus: the story of a ship by michael palin (yes, the guy from monty python. this book contains more anecdotes than hard facts but is a fun introductory read and it’s honestly really funny). probably the most well-known book about the franklin expedition is frozen in time by dr. owen beattie + john geiger, some of the information i believe has been disputed in the years since publication (published in the 80’s) but the descriptions of the exhumations of the beechey bodies are gorgeous and visceral and it’s by far one of the most ethical and humane exhumations/studies on gravesites that i’ve ever read about. THEN you can graduate to real freak territory and read may we be spared to meet on earth, a collection of all of the letters that the members of the expedition sent before and during the first portion of the journey. others to hit that i haven’t read yet are james fitzjames: the mystery man of the franklin expedition (again, some information like that concerning jfj’s birth has since been disproven, but it’s by far the most comprehensive biography of him that exists. battersby reallyyyyyy loved the guy), unraveling the franklin expedition: inuit testimony (this one is on my shelf! deals, obviously, with the widely disregarded testimony of the indigenous people of the region), and the man who ate his own boots.

now for miscellaneous polar books i would start with endurance by alfred lansing, it’s a classic and was written at a time when members of the endurance crew were still alive, so lansing had exclusive access to multiple firsthand accounts. the only nonfiction that’s ever made me cry. my most recent polar read was madhouse at the end of the earth by julian sancton and i can’t recommend it enough. about the dysfunctional belgica expedition, but also a great introduction to roald amundsen’s whole… thing. super fun. i’m also about to start the worst journey in the world by apsley cherry-garrard, which deals with the scott expedition from the point of view of someone who was actually there. it’s mostly a memoir. for a fun one i have a polar fiction rec that is NOT the terror. where the dead wait by ally wilkes was a super fun read and it’s obvious that they watched the terror and went down the same pipeline that i did. evil gay situationship in the arctic circle supplemented by cannibalism and psychosis is always very fun, they have a second book about antarctica i believe, it’s on my shelf but i haven’t gotten to it yet. thanks so much for asking ily 🫶🫶🫶