#unknown magical threat

[09232003]

Thinking about an overprotective Ace who considers yuu his responsibility. He believes he has a right to stake claim over yuu, he talked to yuu first after all. When you were written off as a trouble maker with no knowledge of their world, no redeeming qualities, and cast aside as a janitor, who bullied enlightened you on the great seven? Right? 😭

It's cute. He doesn't have to be so protective, he's obviously not naturally inclined to take that role. His identity, outside of mischief, is informed by his relationship to his older brother. He could just default to mimicking those patterns with yuu, but he doesn't. With his senpais, Ace coaxes them into taking more responsibility for him than necessary. Like, in his loungewear vignette, Kalim throws him an audacious feast after his birthday which he has no problem accepting. Evidently he's not against being the younger brother or being shamelessly taken care of.

But, in regards to Yuu, his voice-lines, vignettes, and main story dialogue, all subtly express a desire to take on more responsibility for their sake. (He says it outright in his level up line) His suisui vignette has him taking control and trying to protect yuu from an unknown threat at the time. This is a major shift in contrast to his presence in Playful Land, where he is reluctant to lead while older students are still present. He gathers Deuce in book 5 to rescue yuu from Scarabia, and takes a stern tone with yuu after they admit to leaving of their own volition to follow Malleus in his enhalo vignette. Yuu is the catalyst for Ace growing up, we don't see Yuu have such an impact on other characters. 😭

But of course he wants to protect his prefect, they're only magic less and he's only human after all lol

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, noncon, somnophilia

follow up to this part one

gn reader

Yeah, he kidnaps you within the same day…

He knows it isn’t inherently right, but he can justify it! You see, if anyone else were to find out your technique, you’d be in a lot of trouble—and by trouble, he means certain death or worse.

You’re a paradox. If he’d reported his find to the elders, they’d surely have sent assassins, given how terrified they are of the unknown—and you’re worse than an unknown—you’re a threat to jujutsu’s very foundation. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d make weapons out of your body until nothing was left of you—just think about it—a bullet made from your flesh would have the instant power to disintegrate a curse on the spot. Or worse, they’d keep you alive and locked up somewhere, feeding you only to drain you of a dozen blood bags per day—like a farm.

Yes, this was better for you—with no one knowing of your existence except him. He’s the only one who can keep you safe.

Of course, you think he’s crazy. And he doesn’t blame you. You were just abducted by a stranger in the streets who not only insists that you’re an anomaly but wears a blindfold and claims to be a wizard out to protect you from people who would harvest your blood. Yeah, he wouldn’t believe him either.

The whole situation is messy, but at least you’re alive.

He gives you your own room. Of course, he’s not out to make you uncomfortable. You have your own room, bed, and bathroom, which is where you spend most of your time.

He can’t blame you for that, either. He won’t force you to spend time with him even though he wants to. But he’s not entirely innocent either—watching you through the cameras in the ceiling. It’s funny, but even on tape, you’re crystal clear. It’s calming to watch. Everything else makes his eyes hurt, hence the blindfold—but even that is but a dull salve. You’re the cure.

You warm up to him after a month or so. You come out of your room. He can tell you’re looking for weak spots to escape from, but you won’t find any. He’s gotten better at reading you now—having busied himself learning the language of your body looking at you without your knowledge. He only feels slightly guilty about it.

He can’t stop thinking about touching you, though. It really doesn’t have to be much—he’s never really been much of a playboy, despite people’s assumptions. Women and men have never been all that appealing when what he sees is everything they’re trying to hide. Though he has tried it a few times, he usually just takes care of it on his own if he needs to.

He's needed to a lot in the past weeks. But he promises himself he won’t force you into anything. That wouldn’t be fair.

You start talking to him another month later—actual conversations aside from the usual swearing or claims to let you go. No, you begin asking questions about the jujutsu world. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re curious or seeking information that might aid in your escape or if it’s simply a ploy to lower his guard, but it’s clear you still think he’s delusional. Either way, he doesn’t mind humoring you. He even tries demonstrating limitless for you, holding different objects as well as himself midair—but you seem convinced he’s just some talented crook. You’ve seen more compelling magic acts before, you say. He laughs.

He'd show you something more convincing, but you can’t see cursed spirits even with special glasses as the curse imbued into the lenses disrupts the moment you put them on, so to you, it’s the same as wearing fakes. In a way, curses don’t exist in your world. He’s tested it out a few times—simple flyheads, just to see what happens, and wow… It’s actually kind of scary how they just crumble upon contact with you—no residuals or anything left to prove that they were ever even there.

The only way to prove it to you would be to let someone else get mangled in front of you. Of course, it would only look like a body getting warped beyond recognition by the air—but he’s sure at that point, you’d no longer be able to assign normal logic to it. Not that he’s going to do any of that. He doesn’t really need you to believe him after all. It wouldn’t change anything. In fact, he prefers you don’t know. The jujutsu world is an ugly one—he doesn’t mind sheltering you from it.

Another four months in, and you’ve gotten comfortable. Well, it’s been half a year, so it’s taken its time, but still, he’s happy to have gotten there. You’re at the point where you ask him for things unrestricted—hobby stuff like books and paints and groceries. 

You’d taken to baking and cooking rather early on, which was great as his kitchen was practically in pristine and unused condition. He can’t blame you for growing tired of his unhealthy food habits—microwave dinners for the most part, other times leftovers he brings home from restaurants, otherwise just candy and pastries. You’d refused to make him anything in the start, but you’d soon caved when you realized he could just as simply refuse to bring you the ingredients. You’re now the designated cook of the house. It’s cute, like having his own little housewife.

Your guard has also dropped. You no longer flinch away when he’s close. Not that he allows himself to touch you improperly—just a little—a few accidental rubs here and then, brushing along you in passing, blaming it on the blindfold even when he can hear your feet pad along the floors in the utter silent emptiness of his house. And other innocent things... laying his hand on your head when he reaches for a glass in the cupboard above you, telling you he wouldn’t want you to hit yourself—brushing your back with his chest and his crotch on your rear. It can’t hurt—it only barely touches and just for a few seconds.

It makes him feel like a filthy drug addict, though. Desperate for a fix, then only wanting more once it’s gone…

He’s been coming to your room to watch you sleep almost every night. You don’t know. You’d be more wary of him if you did. But no, you’re under the impression he’s just some poor, disillusioned man who’s otherwise harmless. You don’t know, and he aims to keep it that way.

It’s for your sake. Just the same as you don’t know curses exist, you needn’t know of the cursed thoughts simmering within his head either. So, he does it for you. To spare you.

That’s what he tells himself when watching you obliviously drink the crushed pills he’s been feeding you for the last many months.

He’d reached his breaking point much sooner than he thought—just after he swore against it, actually. Limiting himself only seemed to make him ever more in need of you. But it was to be expected—he’s never been too good at abiding by rules. He’s always felt above them—even those he sets upon himself.

He’s happy you’ve warmed up to him when you’re awake now, too, utterly unaware you’ve been more than accommodating in your sleep.

Of course, he feels bad! But what you don’t know won’t hurt you.

Besides... give or take a few more months, and you’re bound to invite him into your bed at some point. It’s only natural—humans require contact and will accept what’s available to them. He’s only early in taking what he knows you’d give him sooner or later anyway.

You have no way of knowing how long you sleep, no windows, no watch—no idea you sleep more than half a day every night—half of that time spent with him.

He’d only spooned you at first—his bare hands laid in reverence against your soft skin, reveling in your heat while cuddling into you. It had been nice, but ultimately not enough. He’d resorted to undressing after a while, lying there naked—but still, doing nothing but holding you—skin-to-skin. That, as well, had only been enough for a while—now keeping a hand on you while tugging himself in the other. It seems that every indulgence he allows himself only serves to make the need within grow deeper. You rivet his entire body ablaze like nothing else… and he has this undying feeling pounding in his chest and throughout his body, down to his throbbing dick, that being inside you is going to feel like nothing he's ever felt before.

And you're so cute down there—pretty on his fingers—welcoming. Kissing there makes his candy addiction go to waste. He’s convinced burying his face between your thighs is where he belongs. Right there, smothered in the warmth with your taste flooding his mouth. He could die happy. 

And fuck if it doesn’t look like you need his cock inside you once he pulls away—spit-slicked, swollen, and fluttering for him—crying to be filled and fucked. 

The little sounds you make as he enters you are the sweetest sounds he’s heard in his life—pretty little mews and sleepy moans as he fills you out until you’re neatly settled around his base and fuck—he’s already cumming, melting within the surrounding cloudy warmth. 

It doesn’t stop him from remaining hard. 

Dropping his weight atop of you, he smothers you like a duvet—bodies pressed perfectly against each other as he kisses every and any part of you he can reach, snapping his hips in short thrusts deep within—sucking your lip while sinking his fingers into the plume of your haunches, lapping up the spit from within your mouth like a well granting all his wishes.

He cleans you up after—wipes you down, and frets over the bruises left on you, hoping you won’t read too much into how sore you are. Leaving the crimescene just as it had been before, then kisses you good night.

♡ GOJO SATORU masterlist ♡ JUJUTSU KAISEN masterlist

[olivianott]

BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words 

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere. 

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all. 

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe. 

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack. 

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar. 

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar. 

Theodore Nott. 

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him. 

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear. 

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“ 

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you. 

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?” 

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air. 

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home. 

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.” 

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight. 

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks. 

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement. 

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest. 

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous. 

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.” 

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips. 

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever. 

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his. 

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head. 

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations. 

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point. 

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face. 

Fuuuuck. 

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it. 

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock. 

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head. 

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep,  as he spills himself inside you. 

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor. 

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder. 

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion. 

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all. 

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

If you need more death eater Theodore 😌

[radiance1]

The Ghost Prince does not, under any circumstances, answer a summoning after it was made aware he existed. None know why he doesn't, some are bitter and hateful of it while others are thankful that it's one less bloodthirsty manic to deal with.

The Ghost King meanwhile hasn't been seen in multiple eons, so the magical community who wanted to use his power just, stopped, trying to summon him for a long time.

Most magic users knew that the Ghost Prince never answered a summons, and that the Ghost King just dropped off the radar.

So could you really blame Constantine for not taking it that seriously when some wannabe hotshot cultists try to summon both of them in the middle of a city to wreak havoc?

He'll give them some credit though. Points for doing it in broad daylight and actually being somewhat of a threat with not relying on just summoning the Ghost royalty and figuring out what to do from there.

The area they were in was somewhat destroyed, then the cultists manage to complete the summoning circle to summon both of them and Constantine, well he just light up a smoke.

It isn't going to work anyways so what does it matter?

...

Is that a fucking Ice cream truck he hears? Who the fuck is driving an Ice cream truck while their city is being under attacked with cultists trying to summon eldritch ghost royalty?

He'll give them some points for dedication, though.

Then he looked at the cultists and nearly had a goddamn heart attack to see that the summoning circle is actually fucking lighting up and working.

The Bat is so gonna give him a headache over this.

----

Danny Phantom, crown prince of the Infinite Realms. Does not answer summons.

For one, it is annoying as shit, whenever someone interrupts his day just to ask for infinite power (that he can't give), world domination (that he won't do) or infinite riches (which he also can't do).

It just got annoying being summoned all the time so. One day he just, well, no. And hey, it worked out well enough for him to not continue doing it.

Then he also learned that Pariah Dark is basically the same, after he got out the coffin and stopped trying to take over the world for whatever reason. He was actually a pretty swell guy!

He was just with him too, with him being not so swell at the time for making him go through lessons about Ghost etiquette, rules, stuff that's expected of him as the crown prince.

And don't even get him started on the engagement and marriage proposals.

Overall, he just wanted to find an excuse to leave. Then he felt the familiar suggestive pull of a summoning and, instead of rejection as he usually does in a second. He thought for a bit if he wanted to go with that or crown prince duties.

It was tempting, but dealing with cultists seemed worse than this so he was about to reject.

At least, before he heard an Ice cream truck playing in the background. He doesn't even know how the hell that popped up through the pull but by the gods has it been a while since he's had Ice cream.

So he answers and is gone with a pop.

Pariah Dark just stares for a good second or two, before breathing out and deciding to also answer. Fright Knight is just there, off to side, questioning what he should do now.

Danny wastes no time with the cultists on the other side and in fact, he pushes them out of the way and goes diving for that Ice cream truck he hears. Only to realize he doesn't, have any money on him.

Fuck.

Pariah Dark is less inclined to follow the rules imposed by humans like money, but he does know it can be important. Once in a while. Not that often, but it has its times.

So when he sees his adopted son being sad over being unable to pay for some kind of human delicacy, he digs around in his hair (yes, his hair.) and pulls out some money and puts it on the counter as payment.

The man inside the tiny vehicle had shrieked before getting what they wanted. Which is good. Fear is a good motivator, Pariah thinks.

Unknown to him, it wasn't out of fear (Well, mostly) but because the Ghost King placed down a coin made of pure, solid gold on his counter.

The two then go about their business in the human realm, completely forgetting about the fact that they were summoned here for something.

Constantine is both relieved and about to have an aneurysm at seeing Infinite Realm royalty only answering a summon because of Ice cream.

[heartfullofleeches]

Reader: Hey! Wanna see a magic trick? I can make anyone, and I mean anyone disappear

Friend:Uh.... okay?

[Reader grabs a stranger by the hand and hugs them tightly - planting a light kiss to their cheek]

Friend: ...what was that?

Reader: You'll see~

[Next week - Reader is watching the news with that same friend when a familiar face pops up onscreen]

Reporter: The whereabouts of [Redacted] after still unknown following their disappearance from their apparent one week to this day. Prior to their disappearance, [Redacted] reported several threats to the police from a third party alleging they had tried to steal their spouse from them. Their disappearance marks the twelfth missing persons case in just short of two months.

Reader: Told you.

Friend: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

[nocreativityfornames]

Everything we know about Solomon so far, lore wise.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR ALL SEASONS

➤ He's humanity's most powerful sorcerer (swd: 2-A) and one of RAD's first exchange students who has pacts with 72 different demons (swd: 2-2), two of which are Asmodeus and Barbatos (swd: 2-A).

➤ He was the one to rescue MC from Lucifer when the demon was threatening them during the dance party at the retreat, and when MC asked him how to control a demon who's in a pact with them, Solomon explained that they didn't have the magic abilities to that yet but lent them his powers, saying he was "interested to know what would happen if he did." (swd: 8-8) And his powers came in handy later on when MC and the others were escaping from Henry 1.0 and MC used his borrowed powers to summon Asmodeus and charm the giant snake. (swd: 8-13)

➤ He's in possession of the Ring of Wisdom, which grants him the power to control demons. It was given to him by Michael himself, as a way to help Solomon during a time when he was feeling "lost." (swd: 29-5)

➤ He made himself immortal by accident while researching new forms of magic and as a result of it, can no longer grow old or die. (swd: 36-3)

➤ He was the first to suspect that MC's powers were becoming a threat to the three realms when he connected MC's return to the Human World to the "natural disasters" that started happening in ancient locations that were connected to the other realms. And to test if his hypothesis was correct, he brought them to Devildom with him. (swd: 37-4)

➤ Being the one to find out about MC's "situation", he was also the one who told Diavolo and Barbatos about it (swd: 37-4). For a while, they were the only ones who knew, as the prince decided to keep it a secret until there was solid proof that MC was the cause of the disasters happening around them. Eventually, though, Solomon was able to convince Diavolo that it was a good idea to tell Simeon, making him the fourth to know. (swd: 32-16)

➤ After giving it some thought, he decided to go against Diavolo's request and tell MC about their powers anyway. He was beginning to tell them when Lucifer fainted, affected by MC's powers (swd: 36-18). The secret was out to everyone then.

➤ He stole the Night Dagger - the item that was supposed to be used on MC to sever their pacts with the brothers when their powers were proven to be a threat to everyone and everything around them - from Thirteen's cave. (swd: 37-9)

➤ When he found out that to use the Night Dagger to save the three worlds he needed to kill a high-ranking demon with it first he made a plan to kill Lucifer himself, but the idea of MC hating him because of it made him change his mind. (swd: 38-15)

➤ He took MC as his apprentice to help them learn how to control their powers (swd: 38-19) and from then on became their teacher, guiding them through the journey of becoming a full-fledged sorcerer.

➤ According to Michael, he's a decent human with a good head on his shoulders, but can be even more troublesome than demons at times. "He acts as if he understands his own powers, but he doesn't." The angel tells MC - who had been sent back in time to when the brothers were still angels in the Celestial Realm through a dream due to eating Solomon's cooking - before bringing them back home. (swd: 44-18)

➤ He founded the Sorcerers’ Society with one of his past apprentices who he later had a strong disagreement with, which led to Solomon distancing himself from the society. (swd: 45-4)

➤ His pact with Asmodeus was made in a tavern long long ago while the brother was drunk out of his mind. (swd: 53-16) Solomon saw that the demon was in no coherent state and took advantage of that to propose a pact between the two of them. (nb: 6-18 and 17-13)

➤ He met Barbatos even before he met Asmodeus when he risked death to summon the butler (swd: 53-16), desperately needing his powers to control time for reasons that are still unknown (swd: 49-A).

➤ He has Barbatos' grimoire, which the butler gave to him himself out of trust and respect for him. (swd: 53-16)

➤ After MC completed their trials to become a sorcerer and before the brothers left the Human World, he gave MC a sorcerer's ring. (swd: 59-11)

➤ When teleported away by Barbatos as punishment for summing him, he found himself in a dining room where Diavolo and Simeon were arguing over which side should be the one to “guide” humanity, demons or angels. They asked Solomon to make a choice but he told them that humans don't need their protection, claiming that he wants humanity to be free and that's part of an agreement he has with someone. Then, everything goes black and an unknown voice ( who we later find out is Nightbringer ) accuses Solomon of being “difficult” and tells him that things would be easier if he chose his side, even bringing up MC to ask if the sorcerer would change his mind if his apprentice was to “get caught up in the middle of it.” In response Solomon asks if that's a threat and tells Nightbringer that he's acting like a demon, explaining later that he knows MC wants the same thing as him. The voice calls him overconfident for this, saying that Solomon is sure to the point where he becomes arrogant, and tells him that he is the one behaving like a demon. Solomon isn't surprised by this, replying that it's to be expected considering that Nightbringer is “the one who made him who he is today.” (nb: 9-A and 10-A)

➤ He met Thirteen when he was still a child, and she wasn't even an apprentice reaper yet. The meeting was a surprise to both of them but to Solomon even more, who shrieked in terror when he saw her. According to her, Solomon's soul was as bright as MC's back then, but ever since becoming "The Witty Sorcerer" that changed and it no longer sparkles the same way. (nb: 11-10)

➤ Thirteen blames Barbatos for how much he changed. She told MC that Solomon used to be very lovable and innocent when he was younger, but that Barbatos let him experience whatever he wanted and that's the reason why nothing scares or fazes him anymore. (nb: 11-10)

➤ Although he's immortal there are still ways to kill Solomon by using certain magic and cursed items, and Thirteen is waiting for the day he dies to have his soul. (nb: 11-10)

➤ He was given the title of “the Witty Sorcerer” by Barbatos when the demon brought him to the Fountain of Knowledge for the first time while Solomon was on the verge of death. Barbatos then declared that the human was supposed to protect the spring, and Solomon stayed there until his wounds were healed. (nb: 11-10)

➤ He was raised in a place where magic was a thing to be feared and people were locked up and killed for simply having been rumored to have been seen using it. For that reason, Solomon's parents locked him in a basement away from the world when he started developing magic skills as a child out of fear of what the townsfolk could do to him and the rest of the family if they knew. (nb: 14-14)

➤ While locked away Solomon had a friend ( most likely another child ) who would visit him every now and then and chat with him through the bars of the window in the basement. Something happened to that friend, but Solomon couldn't bring himself to say what. (nb: 14-14 and 14-16)

➤ His life goal is to be powerful enough to protect humanity and to create a world where humans demons and angels can finally stand as equals (nb: 14-14 and 14-16), as opposed to now where humans are seen as an inferior race that to one side ( demons ) is prey and to the other ( angels ) are weaker beings that must be protected. That's also why he's determined to continue to make pacts with powerful demons such as Lucifer, to obtain more power from those pacts.

➤ In a book Satan found there is a passage about Solomon that reads: "Long ago, in a corner of the human world, a sorcerer of rare and extraordinary power was born. He was extremely unique, both in power and nature. As such, he was unable to find a place within human society, and was persecuted by his people, who refused to accept such an aberration. For quite some time he fought to suppress his own power; until he could do so no longer, and lost control. He ended up causing tremendous damage and destruction to the human world." "Once it became clear that the sorcerer posed a threat not just to humans, but to all three worlds, a lone demon appeared before him, offering him guidance. The demon made him guardian of the Fountain of Knowledge and gave him a new lease on life. And so, as the freshly minted protector of knowledge itself, he was thereafter known as 'the wise sorcerer, a title he retains to this day." (nb: 16-4)

➤ He fought a war against the Devildom by himself. (nb: 7-8) It started with Solomon proposing to the Demon King that the demonic realm partnered up with him and demons worked under him to further the Human World’s development, which angered the king and gave start to the war, which lasted 7 days. (nb card: "unforgettable past")

[tanglepelt]

Dc x dp idea 109

Danny and Ellie keep summoning ancient demonic beings.

It started as a joke. Just them doing silly trends and summoning the most recent cyrtid. Moth man and what. They didn’t expect it to work. But they did.

So they moved on to the less. “Nice” beings.

Really after the 10th entity they should of stopped. But they were fun to fight and well… Honestly when they went to summon these things it shouldn’t of worked. They never did the circles and certainly didn’t sacrifice anyone.

They wanted to see what all they could summon.

Constantine is now stuck on a case with the bat. To find out which cult is summoning countless enemies. He unfortunately can’t track it by magic.

There is no circles or anything left in the air. These things just pop up and ever magic user can feel this world ending threat. Then poof. Just gone.

The cult may be dealing with the entities? Whether making deals or just sending them it was a problem.

How long until it was something the cult couldn’t handle and how many more would be sacrificed?

Unknown to all parties. Halfas apparently read as sacrifices, the entities can’t tell the sacrifice is half alive. They only feel the dead part.

[thewulf]

Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

-

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

-

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Horror

Horror is a genre within creative writing that relies on one thing: instilling a sense of fear in the reader.

The horror genre is multifaceted—there is a kind of horror for every kind of person.

For some, the most effective scare is the idea of being trapped in a haunted house. For others, it’s being chased by a serial killer on Halloween.

Some of the best horror comes from scary things that can manipulate an audience’s feelings, creating a sensation of uneasiness and fear that stretches beyond consciousness and permeates deep within the psyche.

Horror writing is sometimes categorized within the broader category of thrillers, but not all horror follows the thriller structure.

Classic horror fiction—whether expressed as a novel, novella, short story, or film—will tap into topics that reliably frighten most humans.

Common topics include ghosts, werewolves, vampires, zombies, serial killers, murderers, and the fear of the unknown.

These horror tropes can often devolve into clichés.

A downside of horror’s popularity is that many horror books and movies recycle old content in non-creative ways, but when properly executed, horror stories can thrill audiences and even provide commentary on the human condition.

Horror Subgenres

1. Apocalyptic - In this subgenre, the world is ending or society is collapsing. When this happens, it’s usually because of some creature, demon, or religious event (while climate-oriented apocalypses are more sci-fi).

2. Body Horror - Involves the mutilation, experimentation, or violation of the human body. It can focus on disease, dismemberment, infestation, sexual acts, or a complete transformation of the physical form.

3. Comedy - Horror and comedy seem so at odds with each other, but they work so well together (kind of like spice and chocolate). A trademark of comedy horror is how the protagonist somewhat stumbles through the story, arriving at the end through luck and ridiculous happenstance rather than skill or growth.

4. Cosmic/Lovecraftian - With its origins largely attributed to H.P. Lovecraft, cosmic horror makes us feel small against a threat that is ancient, massive, and incomprehensible. Cosmic horror looks at intergalactic entities, ancient gods, the machinations of the universe, and how helpless we are against it all.

5. Dark Fantasy - Another crossover, this time with the fantasy genre. In dark fantasy, you have elements of magic, fictional creatures or worlds, and everything else that makes fantasy great, plus you add in a good dose of scares. This can also involve other subgenres, like body horror.

6. Dark Romance - Another crossover genre, dark romance takes the feel-good romance genre and makes it horrific. While this subgenre can simply include morally questionable characters and a grittier tone than most romance, it can also include kidnapping, forced confinement, BDSM, psychological and physical abuse, and sexual violence or sex where there is no consent. Bear in mind that it still needs to include the tenants of romance stories, though.

7. Extreme Gore - Not for the faint of heart, this subgenre includes books that have detailed torture scenes or otherwise disturbing and depraved acts. This genre is all about shocking your audience with how awful your characters act or are treated.

8. Folk Horror - Embraces urban legends and folktales. These range from old pagan gods in the woods to weird rituals performed by isolated groups or villages. Sometimes there is a supernatural element to them, even if the “supernatural” is simply perceived or believed by some characters (e.g., Midsommar).

9. Found Footage/Documentaries - Though this subgenre is more common in films than books, found footage and documentary horror stories are about a crew of people recording their experiences, usually unaware of the true danger they are about to face.

10. Gothic - The great-grandparent of modern horror, gothic horror is the brooding, atmospheric genre containing what most of us would consider classics (e.g., Dracula and Frankenstein). Sometimes you throw in a dash of romance, but these tales tackle topics like death and mortality.

11. Post-Apocalyptic - After some world-ending disaster, how horrifying have things become? Post-apocalyptic horror shows us a world without rules or structure. It can contain unrealistic elements (zombies, demons, etc.) or realistic possibilities (cannibals, gangs, and so on).

12. Psychological - Places the spotlight on trauma, mental health, manipulation, phobias, and everything else that causes you to become stressed and anxious. Home invasion stories (i.e., The Strangers) fall under this subgenre.

13. Slasher - Involves violent horror that is more about a single killer stalking and eventually killing a group of people (traditionally targeting teens and using a blade). This subgenre isn’t necessarily as violent or gory as others, but uses suspense to make the reader hold their breath.

14. Splatterpunk - Is known for its disregard of limits when it comes to violence—both physical and sexual. Gore and depravity are grossly abundant.

15. Supernatural/Paranormal - Some folks separate these two subgenres into different categories, but there is so much overlap that they’re basically the same. If you have to, think of supernatural horror as stories that involve werewolves, witches, vampires, and other monsters. Paranormal horror, on the other hand, involves ghosts, demons, and haunted houses.

Tips for Writing Horror

1. Read more horror. There’s no better way to understand what a good story looks like than to read one for yourself. Read as much as you can so you are aware of what other horror writers are doing.

2. Focus on your own fears. Much like comedy, horror benefits from authenticity. So get personal: If you can scare yourself, you can probably scare an audience.

3. Create three-dimensional characters. Write characters whose character flaws feed the action of the story. All good literature and film contains well-wrought characters with desires, emotions, and a backstory. The more human you make the characters of your story or screenplay, the more their missteps and bad choices will resonate with an audience.

4. Recognize that the real can be scarier than the surreal. Sure, you can make up an army of googly-eyed bad guys or plant a severed head in your main character’s bed, but will you really scare your reader? Not necessarily. In most cases, psychological horror sticks with audiences far longer than a jump scare or gross-out moment in a slasher film. Toying with people’s real-life fears tends to scare them much more than just grossing them out.

5. Use the environment. Scary movies and television shows can use jump-scares as an easy way to frighten an audience, but writing scary literature requires its own method of manifesting fear. Setup your environment in a vivid way to fully immerse your readers into your setting. Vividly describing an enclosed space can elicit feelings of claustrophobia. A dark and quiet house becomes more frightening when a character suddenly hears the creak of an upstairs floorboard. Being an outsider in an unfamiliar place, like a small town with no cell phone service and where everyone knows each other, is already unsettling—and if you add a malicious paranormal force to such a setting, you can enhance the feeling of isolation and ramp up the anxiety of the scenario.

6. Write longer sentences. You can heighten your readers’ fear by writing paragraphs with longer sentences. Periods provide natural pauses for readers to take a breath, but if you stretch out your sentences, you build anticipation for the reader—which they might not even realize until they reach the end of the sentence. By using tactics like this, you immerse the reader into your horror story, making them feel what the main character feels and creating a heart-pounding connection.

7. Make your readers breathe faster. Whereas long sentences can amplify the intensity of a story, short one-sentence paragraphs can force your readers to take more frequent breaths while following your narrative. Crafting abrupt lines builds tension in your scary story writing, making the readers’ eyes move more quickly down the page searching for the relief that the protagonist is safe. This can make your audience breathe faster, contributing to the feeling of panic and anxiety.

8. Leverage fear of the unknown. Fear of the unknown is a common theme that can be tracked throughout many of the best stories in horror fiction and horror movies. When there is something that negatively affects us that we cannot control or properly identify, it creates a feeling of panic and dread. Teasing your readers with something not quite definable or a bad guy no one knows how to stop can increase the level of tension and fear when writing horror stories.

9. Lean into dark imagery and your readers’ collective imagination. Consider what images might be frightening to a reader (and yourself). How much of a description of a clown do you need in order to make a reader feel uneasy? How large and grotesque does a rat need to be? Leaving some of these images more general than specific will allow a reader to fill in the blanks with what is most horrifying to them. Example: If you read the word beast, what do you see in your imagination? Most words carry connotations and personal connections. Allow your words to work for you to create the maximum scare.

10. Want tension? Sprinkle in some foreshadowing. Foreshadowing is a powerful tool in your writing arsenal, but it is particularly effective in horror, especially when writing in third person. Foreshadowing is when an author alludes to a future event by showing us something now. The key to foreshadowing is to use it sparingly. We want to up the tension and the fear our readers are experiencing while they yell at the oblivious protagonist not to open the door. We don’t want the reader to know every single thing that’s going to happen. 

11. Focus on the moment where things shift. You should consider a pivotal scene in your story idea and try to build around that scene or that moment where the plot actually “shifts.” Sometimes that could be reflected in a realization by the protagonist. Other times it can be represented in some type of ironic twist at the end. By looking at that singular element of your story idea, you cut away the fat so that the reader is left only with the most resonant part of the story.

12. Establish the mundane. Mundane is just a fancy way of saying normal, but the message still rings true. Most story structures tell you to start by establishing the Ordinary World: what our protagonist’s normal life is like. This is important for showing us how important the larger conflict is, because it threatens the protagonist’s normal. In horror, establishing the mundane is arguably more important. In a story where connecting with the character and empathizing with them over the godawful stuff you, the author, put them through, the reader needs to understand just how bad life has gotten. Then you can take both your characters and your reader from a place of comfort and familiarity and plunge them into whatever shadowy hell you’ve concocted.

13. Choosing your POV. By choosing to write your story from a first-person perspective, you are putting the reader exactly where your character is. There are 2 types of third-person POV—limited and omniscient. It is advisable to stay away from omniscient. Part of writing a good horror story is withholding information from the reader, which third-person omniscient doesn’t really allow for. Considering the pros and cons of the different points of view, choose the right one for your story.

14. Avoid clichés. Clichés are boring and predictable, and a horror scene that is predictable is likely to not be scary. A good horror story can still use familiar horror tropes, but a great horror story makes them its own. Look beyond the obvious when trying to write a scary scene—what is something readers wouldn’t expect? How can you surprise them with fear? Use enough of the existing tropes to be identifiable as horror, but make sure you insert your own originality into the mix. One of the reasons people gravitate to genres in general is because they have certain expectations for what should happen in the story. Look for ways to flip archetypes on their heads.

15. Practice. If you’re struggling to get a handle on writing a good story that’s scary, practice with story prompts (see some sample prompts below). Writing prompts can expand your range of thinking and open up new avenues of imagination that you hadn’t thought of before.

Horror Writing Prompts

A scary doll comes to life.

A scene from a nightmare comes true the next day.

Days go by, and your parents don’t come home.

You feel yourself slowly becoming a monster.

Your friends start to disappear, and no one else notices.

You’re lost in the woods, and you don’t know how you got there.

You’re inhabited by a ghost that controls you and makes you do crazy things.

You have no reflection in the mirror.

The teacher is a monster, but no one will believe you.

You hypnotize your brother, and you can’t snap him out of it.

A fortune teller reveals that you are evil.

Someone follows you home, and it’s your exact double.

You find a diary that tells the future.

Every time you wake up, you’re a different person.

Your parents explain that you are actually an alien from another planet.

You know someone is watching you day and night from the house across the street.

You realize you are shrinking.

While reading a scary book, you realize that you’re a character in it.

Someone is living in your mirror.

Everyone knows the new neighbors are vampires, and the kids invite you over for a sleepover.

All the cats in a small town vanish in the middle of the night….and all that remains is a set of big, scary teeth smashed into a car door.

A group of friends takes on the zombie apocalypse.

Strange things start happening after the grandfather clock starts to speak.

You finally meet your child’s imaginary friend. Who turns out to be a serial killer.

When a local police officer goes to investigate the haunted house down the street, he finds a young girl who died decades ago.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[bureau-of-mines]

Top 5 anime ever created

A Moulage classic. March of 2015

While some may argue that this is actually at least #3, I place it here. Nothing's wrong with it, but I thought the finale where George Herbert Walker Bush magically displaces Hitler's entire body mass into the Atlantic Ocean was a bit under presented. Plot summary: A hit squad made entirely of polypropylene fishtanks is savagely attacked in the middle of the New York desert by unknown assailants. Over the course of three seasons, they slowly learn how to deal with this threat. Many heartwarming scenes in this one, but some were shot in the 4th dimension, so we can't really see them.

Many consider this to be Konami's finest work. The story of a wandering vagabond (played by George Herbert Walker Bush), it blends themes of both classic anime and modern youtube commentators with the faint smell of fish. (They should have cleaned the blender first.) Look for guest appearances by Supreme Court Chief Justice Roger Tainy, and also Pewdiepie.

When Georgia State senator Johnny Isaacson (Played by George Herbert Walker Bush) is attacked by butterflies in his home, questions about human suffering begin to emerge. The animation and music choice in this one are truly spectacular.

I refuse to explain this one, because it will ruin it. Starring George Herbert Walker Bush.

This is the epic story of three men in a boat. Directed by Jodorowski, and starring George Herbert Walker Bush in all three roles, it's hilarious to watch the actors play off of each other. Extreme gore is involved, use caution when watching around small children.

[nelkcats]

Spirit Guide

Constantine is showing Billy Batson how to use magic (after discovering the kid doesn't have a mentor and again, IS A KID), they are entering into "Black Magic" and all that, Constantine is moraly grey so Billy don't care.

For practice they summon a Spirit to help Billy with his next classes, Constantine expected it to be dangerous cause you know, champion of magic and all that, but is surprised when into the summoning circle is a ¿Teen? (his age seems to change at times) in a hazma suit judging them. Honestly he is just happy Billy didn't summon a world threat (as far as he knows).

Billy explained Danny the situation and he accepted to help him with magic, he doesn't know a lot about it but can ask Desiree or Ghost Writer for knowledge. He also agreed in helping Billy when needed after heard about the "I am Captain Marvel/Shazam" mess and told him he is a protector spirit himself.

Constantine was amused cause that kind of ghost is rare, maybe the kid just have good luck. After that, Danny goes back and forth to Billy's lessons, helping him in both magic and being a kid hero (with some lessons about ghosts, dimensions and everything useful he can remember), he sees him as an apprentice of some kind. Billy even started calling him "Teacher Phantom".

He told Clockwork about it, completely proud of the boy's progress. Clockwork just judged him for not telling his supposed apprentice that he was the Ghost King but Danny didn't see the point in doing so.

Or at least, he didn't see the point of mentioning it until Constantine summoned the Ghost King for help with one of his subjects and as most of the heroes prepared to fight (cause this was supposed to be an unknown threat and probably hard to convince) Captain Marvel/Shazam was shocked and yelling "TEACHER PHANTOM?"

Which of course made Constantine curse his luck as the league misinterpreted everything. Danny might have made a miscalculation or two, but he didn't want to lose their friendship or tell them he was immortal, he was cut off from humanity for a long time.

[futurepastme]

At King Emry's Court: Full Scene

(The badass King Merlin AU)

Excerpt: Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…" "I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again. "I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

In the middle of nowhere, northwest from Albion, was the island known by magic users as Elysium. Elysium seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, nobody had ever heard about it until about twenty years after Uther Pendragon started his war against magic.

Slowly, rumors of this island began to grow and eventually what was only a myth became real. Some kingdoms of Albion turned their eyes to the island; interested in their growing economy, the chance to trade with them and the chance to forge alliances. Soon enough the island that was known to be the magic users paradise — their hiding place if you will — became a bustling and well succeeded kingdom.

The King of Elysium was known mostly by name, a hooded figure by the name of Emrys. Few were the people that knew his face, most of them were part of the select group he chose to manage the island while he was away.

Emrys was rarely seen, his way of ruling the kingdom was different than everything one might have seen before for Emrys rarely stayed at the island, leaving it on the hands of his chosen few.

The chosen few were known as the seven, most of their identities were also unknown as they all chose to wear a hooded cape at all times, so they were mostly known as their assigned number.

As the Kingdom grew in strength and wealth, Uther Pendragon began losing allies and what was once seen as a strong man with a just fight in the name of good, was slowly turning into a madman thirsty for revenge and bloodshed.

Trying to save face, King Uther scheduled a visit to the island. He was indeed curious about the kingdom and about Emrys himself, but with his visit he hoped to learn their weaknesses and find enough information to create doubt amongst the other kingdoms of Albion and turn them against magic once more.

King Emrys kindly invited Camelot's party to spend the harvest celebrations with them, a week-long festival where both magic-folk and humans thanked the goddess and the land for the given provisions for the winter. Along with King Uther, Prince Arthur and a handful of servants and knights went on their way to meet the mysterious island.

Upon arrival, Camelot's party were welcomed by the seven, the man and woman that managed the island in Emrys absence. Uther didn't like it, he wanted nothing more than meet the man that dared to go against him, but Emrys was nowhere to be seen.

After two days of not finding the sorcerer, Uther demanded a meeting with Emrys' court and was surprised when he found out that even if his wish for a meeting was granted, Emrys himself still wouldn't see him.

Merlin was Prince Arthur's manservant — he had been for years as a reward for saving Arthur's life — and as the prince's servant he was granted the privilege of joining them on their visit to the island. But Merlin was more than a servant — in Prince Arthur's eyes he was closer to a friend — so Merlin also had the honour to be allowed in council meetings.

That's why Merlin now sat at the back of the room watching as King Uther made angry demands at Elysium's court, screaming at the councilwoman that had been introduced as the main representative and the second of the seven. He watched as the woman was interrupted again and again, as she tried to reason with the mad king that demanded to see Emrys and made threats of war.

He had had enough, there was nothing the woman could do against Uther, especially in the state he was in. Merlin took a step forward, and then another, slowly letting his secret seep out of him.

Upon noticing his movement, some of Elysium's councilmen and women started to move as well, until one of them raised their voice to say "All rise for the Lord Emrys," and Merlin fully let his magic out, allowing it to change his garments into ones more befitting of a king. He walked to his seat at the center of the room and, upon reaching it, turned around taking in the many emotions passing through the faces of Camelot's citizens that were in the room.

Uther's face was red as he restarted his complaints, this time filled with accusations, insults, and even more threats.

"You are nothing but a lowly servant!"

Merlin had enough, he had been done with Uther a long time ago and now he was filled with a rage he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I'm aware of what I am, Uther Pendragon." he started, his voice growing louder in order to compete with Uther's own screaming. "I am a peasant. I was born to grow crops," Merlin continued his speech standing up slowly.

"I was born to scrub floors, polish boots and clean chamber-pots. I was never suppose to be King, I wasn't suppose to have people depending on me, on my choices; I wasn't supposed to have to lead anyone or give anyone hope."

Merlin walked towards Uther, staring him dead in the eyes with such intensity that brought a golden gleam to his still blue irises.

"I never once asked for riches, for power; and I never asked to be King."

He stopped right in front of Uther, still staring at him, and brought his voice down. "You are the one who gave me this crown."

Uther had his face completely red, a vein in his forehead threatening to pop.

"You can scream all you want," Merlin continued, turning around and heading back to his seat. "You can hate me and my people, my kind; you can try and make demands and threats, but I assure you, you will not have it your way."

"Then you have chosen war." Uther said when Merlin paused his speech long enough to sit down.

Merlin looked at the small man in front of him with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"War?" He snorted, "you can't go to war with me, Uther. How would that even work?"

Merlin smiled and frowned his eyebrows. "We are in an island, Camelot has no ships of its own. You are here because you used my ships." He leaned back.

"Besides, who says I want war with Camelot? I actually quite like the place, you know? I have a bunch of friends there."

"Camelot is no friend of magic users, we will fight to rid the world of your little nest of pests."

Merlin dropped his smile, his eyes grew sharp once again as he focused on Uther, and he let out a sigh. "By the goddess you are tiresome."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Here's the deal, I will give you three options to choose from. You can choose whatever one you like most, I'll be happy with any of them."

Uther seemed ready to speak again but never got the chance.

"Option number one: We sign a peace treaty similar to the ones I have with other kingdoms where we'll begin to plan trade routs and the such to start collaborating with each other, but you will have to stop your persecution and the bloodshed against my people," Merlin scrunched up his nose. "I'll not even demand that you lift the ban completely, merely that the punishment fits the crime committed and that you stop actively hunting us down."

Uther's face was getting closer to purple and he opened up his mouth. "Option number two," Merlin said louder before Uther restarted his hate speech.

"We sign an armistice and you go back to pretend this place doesn't exist and we will do the same with Camelot."

Merlin leaned back again, "which brings us to option number three: war"

Uther looked taken aback for a second that war was actually in one of his 'options', he looked eager to respond but Merlin raised his hand interrupting him again.

"Let me explain something about option number three before you choose. First of all, even if you manage to find ships to bring your knights across the sea, I assure you they will not make it to the port. The only ships that can anchor at my shores are the ones I allow to."

Merlin let the information sink in before continuing.

"Secondly, even if you manage to bring your man to my island you'll still have the three levels of protection shields that won't allow you to pass. Not mentioning the amount of magic users that would be eager to get their own personal revenge against anyone wearing Camelot's colours."

Merlin shook his head in disapproval.

"Finally, and this is the main one so pay attention; if you do choose to go to war against me, if you are so eager to erase magic from earth that you decide to go out of your way to persecute my kind in this sacred place; I promise you that no knight, no soldier, no innocent human from Camelot or otherwise, will be harmed in your foolish war. The only person that will face consequences if you seek war against my kingdom will be yourself, Uther Pendragon, and I'll make sure of it."

Merlin leaned forward again and rested his chin on his hands. "It's about time you start taking responsibility for your own mistakes, and assume the consequences of them like the man and king you were supposed to be."

The room went silent. Merlin's threat hang heavily in the air taking away the voices of everyone in the room, even from his own council who did not expect that decision. They all knew Merlin loved Camelot, and that he had a soft spot for it's prince.

"You dare to threaten me."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and a startled laugh escaped in a breath and soon turned into a giggle fit that was joined by the rest of Elysium's council.

"You are joking, right?"

"I demand a fair combat between our kingdoms, as a war is supposed to be."

"You are joking, right?" Merlin repeated. "You are not sitting in front of me, demanding war with people that you have murdered for decades and suddenly decide that you are pro-fairness just because things aren't going your way. Because if you are… well that's amusing, really. And befitting"

Merlin cleaned dry tears from his eyes.

"You threaten to murder me…"

"Murder? No, I don't recall saying that. I said that if you went with the warpath there would be consequences and you would be the only one to pay for them. In fact," he looked at the seven man and women he trusted most, the ones that ran his kingdom for him. "I'll tell you what, you have until the end of the week to make a decision, meanwhile councilwomen two and six will gather this week to decide what your fate will be if you choose the warpath."

"And how is that fair?" Arthur spoke and for the first time since Merlin left his place at the back and took his seat as Emrys, Merlin dared to look at him.

While Merlin knew Arthur better than the man knew himself, right now Arthur was using his court face, and even if usually he could read right past that as well, all Merlin could see right now was his steadfast gaze looking right back at him.

"Councilwoman two is a non-magic user, she helps us see the things by the point of view of those who have no magic at all but still have to live with it; councilwoman number six is a magic-user who lived in Camelot for a while, she was on her way to take matters in her own hands when I convinced her otherwise and she came to my island instead."

Merlin rested his chin on his hands again.

"I usually don't mind taking part on the decision-making — of course not, how could I? — but in this case I fear my judgment might be a little…" He let his gaze wander away and land back on the prince. "Compromised."

"I see the reasoning for your councilwomen choice, but how can I be certain that what they'll chose will be fair?"

Merlin let a smirk escape, both from the irony of the word fair related to Uther and for Arthur himself. Then he shook his head.

"You are forgetting that he doesn't have to choose that path."

"I think we both know the likeliness of that."

"What would you have me do, then?"

Merlin watched as a glimpse of surprise escaped through Arthur's mask, followed by a hint of doubt before both of them were suppressed again.

"Let me…"

"No." Merlin interrupted him before he could even start, there was no way he would let Arthur decide his own father's fate if it ever came down to it.

Arthur frowned a little, ready to complain, before remembering himself. "You speak of justice…"

"I never said anything about justice." Arthur frowned at the interruption again.

"I've given your father three options. I offered him peace, I offered him ignorance and I offered him war; the only thing I did after that was make him aware that actions have consequences. This is what this is about; not revenge, not justice, but simple cause and effect."

Arthur stared at Merlin with tight lips, he didn't like what Merlin had said but he also didn't have a good enough argument to go against his reasoning.

Merlin kept his gaze focused on Arthur's face trying to catch another glimpse of his emotions. He could feel his frustration and annoyance but most of all, he knew Arthur feared for his father.

"However" He continued, "I can see your point of view and after careful consideration I have come to realized that perhaps you might have a point."

Arthur looked shocked, not just a glimpse that was escaping through his mask, no, Arthur was completely shocked and it was clear for everyone to see.

"Well of course I have a point"

"Sure"

Arthur scrunched his nose in annoyance and Merlin smiled. Maybe things would be alright in the end.

"Like I was saying, you made me realize that it would be interesting to have the point-of-view of someone that has been directly under King Uther's rule and isn't connected to magic in any way in the decision making process, so I'll allow you, Prince Arthur, to chose someone from your party to speak on your kingdom's behalf."

Uther talked back at that. "If anyone should be choosing my representative, it should be me!"

Merlin had honestly forgotten Uther was still there, in fact he was so focused on Arthur that he forgot that everybody else who wasn't him were still there. He was so glad he didn't see any trace of hate in his prince's eyes that the rest of the world didn't seem to be attention worthy.

Granted, Arthur still had his mask on, but the glimpses Merlin managed to see earlier were all hatred-free, so Merlin was hopeful and if everything turned out not horrible, Merlin was considering to create a new holiday to celebrate this day.

"Honestly, Uther, the fact that you still think you have any say in my court baffles me. You entered here spitting rage and making demands like some kind of entitled child, why you would think I would let you make any decision about anything after that makes me severely concerned for your kingdom, and that's coming from someone who's been living there."

Uther spluttered.

"Arthur is choosing because the argument was his, because he seems to have his bearings and, honestly? Because he's more likable than you."

Uther's mouth opened slightly and Merlin noticed a small smile creeping up Arthur's mouth.

"Now, Prince Arthur, I'm going to need a name but if you allow me an advice, I'd tell you to choose for the kingdom, not for the man."

Arthur looked back at him in the way he always did when he thought Merlin had said something uncharacteristically wise, except this time it came with a weight Merlin couldn't place.

Merlin didn't know but Arthur was looking at him with admiration, Merlin always confused him in the sense that he seemed so much more than just a servant, like Merlin had the heart of a noble and the wisdom of a king. Now that he knew the truth about him, everything seemed to fall into place.

Merlin always had that aura around him — especially when giving Arthur advice — of someone that was destined for greatness. Learning that he was Emrys made so much sense that while looking at him right now, sitting in a throne leading and protecting his kind with certainty, Arthur didn't find it in himself room to be angry about it. Not when that scene felt so right that he wondered why he never realized how magnificent Merlin would look with a crown.

Arthur looked around the room for a while, seemingly measuring the men that had come with them.

"I can have someone brought from Camelot before lunchtime if you don't have what you need here," Merlin offered and Arthur looked surprised at him.

Merlin knew who he would've chosen. It seemed obvious to him but maybe Arthur had a different strategy.

"I choose Sir Leon," he turned to the man himself "If you feel like you're up to the task."

"It would be my honour, Sire." He bowed in agreement.

"Wonderful!" Merlin clapped his hands once which seemed to startle a few people. He smiled at Arthur's good choice before continuing. "Sir Leon will be joining the second and the sixth throughout this week to reach a mutual decision about what would be an appropriate outcome." He waved at each of them as he spoke.

"Meanwhile," he continued. "King Uther has a week to reach a decision of his own about what is to be done with both our kingdoms. While he does so I want to remind the court that the Camelot party are still our guests and must continue to be treated as such."

He looked back at Uther, "you are all, of course, still invited to partake in our harvest celebrations — there's no need for bad blood between us while a decision hasn't been made — and you are all free to explore the kingdom as you will, I just ask you all not to wander through our forests by yourselves, they have a tendency to be purposefully confusing."

He turned his gaze to his court.

"In the interest of full transparency, not more courtly meetings will be held until we gather again in a week to hear Camelot's position, all non-urgent matters shall be postpone to the week after, and the urgent ones can be brought directly to me."

"You will regret this." Uther interrupted, his voice filled with poison and disdain. "You think you can spy on me and my kingdom without consequences, I'll make you pay for your lies and your sins."

The room felt heavy again, Merlin was just tired.

"Can't wait to hear all about it next week. Court dismissed."

He stood up and his court stood with him, differently from what is done in Camelot, the Elysium court always waited for him to leave the room first before leaving their places. He wasn't sure when this began being their way but he had a suspicion it started because Merlin hated attending court and always were the first at the door when it was over.

Camelot's household watched in silence as the whole room of Elysium's court stood in place waiting for their king to leave through the door before moving to leave themselves.

It wasn't long after Merlin left that he began hearing the familiar footsteps following after him. They were strong and decisive and were marching straight towards him with purpose, soon enough he felt a strong hand around his arm and long nails digging at his sleeve. "I want him dead"

"And what else is new?"

He felt the nails digging deeper and he was forced to stop. He turned around and found himself face to face with green eyes filled with anger and annoyance.

"This isn't a joke, Merlin. Uther should die, this is the only way."

"You heard my decision, Morgana." Merlin stared back at her with a steady gaze, they had had that discussion many times before and while Morgana always complied with his decision of not going for Uther's throat, it didn't mean she was happy about it. "It's not me you have to convince of that."

"You really think Leon and Hunith will let me sentence him to death? Have you met them? They don't understand, Merlin, not like we do."

Merlin's gaze softened as he stared at her. "Do you know why I chose you to be part of the seven?"

"Because I'm powerful and have understanding of courtly matters."

"That helps, of course, but that was not the reason." Morgana's stance softened in surprise.

"Was it out of guilt?"

"What?"

"Some kind of gift to apologize for the poison?"

Merlin was taken aback with surprise, it had been a while since he thought about that day. "I thought we had put that behind us."

"We did." She sounded relieved.

"Morgana, I chose you because I trust you to fight for our kind in a way I'm not able to. You are angry, and while you might not be out for revenge anymore, it doesn't mean you would casually dismiss it like I would. But most of all, I chose you because after everything you've been through in Camelot, after Uther and after me, you still managed to maintain enough heart to not give in. I admire you, Morgana. You have a strength in you that can inspire people to follow you. I'm lucky to have you by my side and I trust you to make the right decision."

Morgana looked at him in shock, she seemed so vulnerable like this, with big doe eyes that seemed to be staring at the sun for the first time. It was gone quickly enough, she looked down and recomposed herself. "It's because of you, you know?"

"Me? I was under the impression that I made things worse."

"You did, at first, but you reached out to me later and didn't give up. I don't know what would have become of me if you hadn't. The path Morgause was taking us was not one I'd dare to follow today, it came from a place of despair and anger and I would have walked down that road with her til the end if it weren't for your persistence. We might have ended up in different sides of this war."

"I see. I'm glad it didn't came to it then."

"So am I." They smiled at each other before Merlin turned again and offered her his arm. "So, tell me, how's Morgause doing? Did she find new apprentices?"

She took his arm and laughed, "oh, you wouldn't believe it, those poor girls."

They continued their journey down the hallways of Elysium Castle, chatting and gossiping like old friends. Merlin knew there was still much to be done, he still had to find Arthur and explain himself to his prince, and he knew Uther wouldn't spend this week in silence. Just imagining the headache he could bring for his people left him slightly out of breath.

But that was a problem for another time, right now he just wanted to enjoy the pleasant company of one of his dearests friends in the world without any drama to stain it. "Anyway, let's talk about the way Arthur was looking at you, don't think I didn't notice."

Or not

"Did you hear that? I think I heard Lord Erick calling me." He let go of her and started sprinting away while laughing.

"Merlin! Come back here! You will not get away from this conversation! Merlin!" her voice echoed through the hallway as Merlin ran away with the wind.

☽♚☾

[taco-rambles]

DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Emotional Support Animal Wife

When the PMC you worked for noticed that König was calmer around you and less likely to fly off the handle, they thought it was a fluke. Nonetheless, they asked you to attend several meetings as a guest and sat you near him to test out the theory. When he did not lash out for a single meeting over two months, no matter how inane, your job was officially restructured to spend nearly every hour of your working day next to him with overtime hazard pay for all after hours meetings and parties. Any time he was not down range, you were by his side, it seemed. It didn't take long for the enforced closeness to work its magic, leading to your eventual marriage.

König and several other select team members were contracted out to an international military task force for a minimum six month term. This wasn't the first time he was loaned out and you always tagged along, ensuring that he didn't attack an officer for being rude to his men or take up the challenge often offered by the enlisted who heard rumors of his work down range. This time, the hiring military tried to argue that you were not allowed due to the top secret clearance required as well as you being unnecessary to the mission. Your boss countered that the health and well-being of all employees was a top priority and reminded the opposing bureaucrat that your presence was listed as a non-negotiable aspect of not only König's contract, but the entire team's contracts as his presence was required in every other contract. After several rounds of back and forth, your boss prevailed.

When the C-140 landed, you waited for the men of the team to disembark before following König. He always waited until last to leave so you wouldn't be far away, especially in new areas with unknown threats. You patiently waited behind the wall of tall, broad, and muscular men who were your coworkers while introductions and welcomes were made. Same old same old at this point in your career. You preferred to hide and work in the shadows, so to speak. Calling attention to yourself was not ideal due to past experiences with idiots trying to interfere with your attendance.

Speaking of interfering idiots, the men have barely begun to stride away when a man approaches you, demanding to know who you are and how you got here. You smile kindly, "I'm with König and the others from KorTac. If you'll excuse-."

"No, ma'am. I need to verify your presence before I can release you." The man bars your way, grabbing his radio with urgency. You sigh and lean around him, not wanting to get separated from the group.

"König! I need assistance!" He doesn't pause to assess the situation. Simply turns on his heel and begins running straight at you. The rest of the team also about faces and stands waiting. The man skitters to the side slightly, scared to see such a giant man striding toward him. You simply hold up your arms, knowing his aim and allowing König to pick you up. The man quails under the glares he is receiving and silently vows to stay away from KorTac members at all times. König catches back up to the group easily and sets you down to walk next to him, holding his hand. You can hear him muttering in German and have to fight the grin trying to spread across your face.

Once in the meeting, König sits you next to him, in the seat with Horangi's name tag. Horangi stands behind your chair, ruffling your hair, drawing a huff from you. He enjoys acting the big brother to you whenever possible. Settling in, you put on your noise canceling headphones, and pull out a book to read. Hidden behind König's bulk, you blend in quickly, few noticing you other than the men of KorTac. Their favorite way to pass the time is to try to distract you from your book.

After a few moments, Horangi sits in a newly appeared chair next to you, nearly squashing you between him and König before you put a hand on his chest, shoving him back playfully. He smirks and lets you return to your book to wait out the meeting, one hand resting on König's back gently to ground him. Near the end, there is a tap on your shoulder as König and the others stand, you following suite soon after. It's meet and greet time, which is typically a lot of posturing and crushing of hands. You carefully greet several men, most of whom catch the name tag on your vest and eye König before greeting you from a few feet away. Glancing around, you spot a familiar face that has you tucking yourself behind König. Your hand clenching his waist has him freezing in place, body tensing and readying to face the threat. You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing out a spare mask and slipping it on. His tenseness relaxes slightly as your hand releases his shirt, and you stand near his side again, pressing a hand to his back for comfort.

The team is alarmed by your use of the mask. You've always playfully protested König masking you, preferring to be recognized on your own rather than a smaller carbon copy of him. The atmosphere in the room becomes much more tense as they slowly close ranks, Horangi stepping a bit closer to your other side. When the familiar face, a cousin, greets König, your hand flinches slightly, despite your struggle not to react. His gaze hardens as he evaluates the threat in front of him, hand tightening unconsciously. When your cousin winces, he catches himself, letting go and turning away in clear dismissal. Before he can greet you, holding out his hand, Horangi leans forward, shaking his hand instead. The interaction doesn't go unnoticed, but König makes an effort to greet every other person amicably, and Horangi's smile sets most at ease, even as they eye your red fabric masked face with suspicion.

Finally, the meeting officially ends, and the team is led to their quarters. The sounds of outrage at being placed in bunk beds together in one room are broken up by your giggles. They turn to look and see König laying in the bed, scrunched up into a ball to fit on the mattress and still hanging off. Once the laughter dies down and enough pictures are taken, König stands up. "We will see about proper accommodations. This is unacceptable, clearly." You take his hand quietly, and he pauses. "Schatz, would you prefer to stay behind? I know you are... nervous."

"He is my family, König. I didn't want a fight to break out at the first meeting." He sighs, frustrated. Hearing that your childhood had mirrored much of his had been rage inducing, and it still simmers in the back of his mind. Luckily, he hadn't met any of them before today as you had cut contact when you took your first job as a contractor due to their vehement disapproval and insults. "I would prefer to stay anonymous here as much as possible rather than confront him." König nods, fighting back his protective instincts.

"I will follow your lead. If a fight is needed, then a fight we shall have."

You shake your head, saying, "Don't sound so excited for it, big guy."

König leads you out, nearly running into a soldier posted outside the door. "Colonel, you are to remain in your quarters until your allotted lunch at 1100 hours," the soldier's voice wavers only slightly despite the fear you feel rolling off of him. You rub your thumb on the back of König's glove, gently keeping him grounded.

"I wish to speak to someone about the quarters we have been provided. Please bring me to the person in charge of accommodations." The soldier looks stunned, rocking back on his heels.

"I-I will contact someone, but I must insist that you wait here. My orders were to ensure you did not leave." König nods agreeably.

"Understood. We will wait for this person." The soldier returns the nod before retreating up the hall several paces and calling over the radio. König merely leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You mimic his posture, quietly waiting. It is only a few minutes later when the soldier approaches with another person in tow.

"Colonel, you wish to discuss your quarters? They are the standard quarters we provide to all visiting contractors." You honestly don't understand how they could continue to be confused, having to crane their neck back to meet his gaze.

"I am very tall, as are several of my men. The bunks are too short to sleep on. As well, there are not enough beds unless you expect my wife," he casually gestures at you, "to sleep on the floor."

The man stares at him, seemingly noticing his height for the first time, then his eyes flick to you. "Well, it was assumed that your... wife," your eyes narrow at the doubt lacing his tone, "would sleep with you, of course."

Before König can say a word, you snap at him. "He doesn't fit in the bunk, and you expect me to sleep there, too? Am I supposed to slice his belly open and crawl inside like this is a Star Wars movie?" The posted soldier snorts, unable to completely hide his laughter and the man opposite you smothers a grin, not expecting the reference, nor your unaccented, American voice.

"Uhh, no. We don't expect personnel to make such drastic choices. I will arrange for more appropriate beds. They will be exchanged before nightfall."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate being spared as a sacrifice." With that, König turns and guides you back into the quarters. You smile, seeing the team already at work rearranging the room.

With the door shut and locked, you pull off your mask, a small sigh of relief slipping out. Horangi shoots a questioning look at König, to no avail. You stiffen your back and meet his questioning gaze. "One of the men is estranged family. Recognizing me could easily lead to an all out brawl," your eyes flick to König. "Or worse." Horangi nods.

"Then we will maintain your anonymity outside these doors." There are nods of agreement all around. "Though, I wouldn't mind a piece of him myself if he is as bad as the rest of your family." Horangi's eyes shine with a predatory gleam. His name is well-earned after all.

"It's been years. Maybe he is better, maybe not."

When lunch rolls around, you don your mask again, now adjusted for your face so it does not cover your uniform and drapes nicely. König is great with a needle and thread, able to make, repair or adjust masks on the fly with ease. You walk single file, sandwiched between König and Oni who keeps poking you and dodging your jabbing elbow. You swear at him in Japanese, having picked up several languages in your time working with the team. Unfortunately or maybe not, almost all of it is exclusively the slang, curses and crude language they use as emphasis for their English. He laughs loud and long at your inventive cursing in his mother language, but stops antagonizing you just in time to walk into the mess hall full of soldiers.

You can feel the tension radiating off König and step to his side, a hand on his forearm. He glances down at you briefly. "Herz, you will go in front of me. I want both eyes on you in here." You pat his arm in agreement and pick up a tray, quickly moving through the line.

"Man, I thought that Koe-nig was supposed to be some badass. But look at this, he got tits!" You openly laugh at the cook's loud exclamation to his surprise and watch his face turn to shock and horror as König steps forward behind you.

"Herz, did you know that I have grown tits? Why did you not tell me?!" You shrug.

"I felt like that should be a discussion between you and your doctor, König. Or maybe between you and your workout routine." Your flat delivery has hysterical giggles bursting out among the cooks as they realize neither of you are going to kill them for their words.

Lunch is quick. Not as tasty as you usually manage to get, but edible enough. When a soldier appears to herd all of you back to your quarters, König is instantly annoyed. You silently cajole him into cooperating for now. It is only the first day, after all.

The promised beds are delivered to you before dark, though they aren't much bigger. Fortunately, your team has dealt with this issue before and they simply push the metal frames out into the hall to the surprise of the posted guard. He doesn't protest at all, understanding the frustration.

Snuggling that night is mandatory rather than optional. Your front is pressed against König with Horangi's back to yours. Between the two heaters, you don't need a blanket despite the cool Fall temps and the windows wide open to let in the breeze.

[thedexcat]

VotV Speculation Megapost

(For posterity's sake, the latest major release is 0.8) (Also, buckle in. This post is a long one.) (Edit 9/20/24: Added Addendum 1) (Edit 10/14/24: Added Addendum 2) It should be extremely obvious, but spoilers ahead.

As we all know, Voices of the Void has a "story breadcrumbs" approach to its plot. Combine that with its alpha status, and we're left with a lack of hard answers. However, some pieces did seem to click into place. This is far from anything definitive, but here are some of the conclusions I've drawn. Let's start with everybody's favorite:

Part 1: The Arirals

god i want one to hold me like that

You know em. You love em. Like 90% of the fanart is about them. But the question is... what the hell are they doing here? Judging by the fact that they construct a campsite in the facility, they clearly expect to be here for a while. A common interpretation I hear from people is that the ones out in the facility are either political refugees, or just some sort of benign "tourist group". I've personally come to a different conclusion. Let's consider what they brought with them.

Exhibit A: The weapon (left)

The weapon they drop around Day 24 is no mere Star Trek phaser. If you drop it in the main building, pretty much EVERYTHING in the building is going to be sent flying from the resulting blast. Not only that, but the "human-wieldable" version that can be unlocked for the sandbox mode has one hell of a fire rate. Something tells me that there's no way in hell this thing is a civilian-grade weapon. And, as established in a previous post of mine, they're kitted out in full-body armored stealth suits.

Exhibit B: The stealth suit (Kerf dutifully remains there for scale)

These aren't tourists or runaways. They're goddamn Black Ops. But you're probably asking, "If that's what they are, then why do they have nothing better to do than to steal shrimp and prank you?" Don't worry, I'll get to that later. Eventually. Maybe.

For now, let's move on to a third thing of theirs: The letter to Kel.

Exhibit C: Esraniki's Letter (D-, see me after english class)

This is the letter left at the Ariral camp if you have maxxed reputation with them. There's one line in particular that's always stood out to me. "GET WE HOME YOU GET DEATH AVOID" So... why can't they go home? Let's review: A: They have perfectly functional spacecraft parked right behind you. Even if they were broken, surely some random Pre-FTL primitive wouldn't be able to help with a mechanical failure in their technology. Hell, they buzz you at the radio tower with one. So there seems to be nothing physically stopping them from leaving. B: They've come kitted out with some serious weapons and armor C: Something in the facility is drawing the attention of all manner of extraterrestrials (and ghosts and demons. are 'metaterrestrials' a good word for them?) So my take? They're monitoring something, waiting for an opportunity to act upon it. (In keeping with the Patch Note naming convention, I will be calling this unknown something "The Threat") Not only that, this 'opportunity' may only open up with the assistance of a human. But what could Dr. Kel possibly do that an Ariral couldn't? Well, I can think of one thing he can do better... Interface with human technology.

Exhibit D: Ariral Communique (quality: shit) Computer technology isn't some universal constant. You can't make a program and expect it to magically run on alien technology with an unknown architecture. This ain't Independence Day. The fact that the Arirals barely managed to send a heavily-garbled message to Kel's computer, quite frankly, speaks of an extreme amount of effort on their part. And it was all just to say the word "OUTSIDE".

If The Threat has some ties to human technology, then perhaps Kel actually could be more qualified to deal with it than the Ariral Black Ops. Hmm... An unknown threat with ties to human technology. Could it possibly involve...

Part 2: The Incredibly Suspicious Bunker

"I left a 'Do not enter' note on the floor. That'll stop people from investigating!" This damn thing is quite obviously, as TVtropes would put it, The Very Definitely Final Dungeon. It is my firm belief that this is what the Arirals were sent to monitor, and where The Threat can be found. But we can't really get much further in than a few doors. So... what's in there? An easy assumption to make is that it's some sort of fallout/storm shelter. But something nearby might tell a different story...

Exhibit E: *squints* ...Liberty Prime? If you take a metal detector over to the bunker entrance, you'll quickly discover a buried drive nearby. The image you just saw is its contents. It's clear that something is being depicted here. What exactly it is, well, that's hard to say. but if you look at that teeny tiny thing at the top, you'll see something that looks like the Alpha base and its radio tower

oh god we're getting into crusty duende video territory now

What this says to me is that there is a colossal something underneath the base. Some sort of mega-facility? Unnatural cave formations? Something else entirely? Or I could be looking at it entirely wrong. But the point is, it's very likely that something extremely expansive is down there.

What if we could just take a peek a liiiittle bit further in? Well, there is ONE way...

Exhibit F: The Least Cursed Elevator in Horror Fiction

Roughly around 3:33 each night, there is a chance that a camera inside the bunker will become active. It's monitoring what appears to be a heavy-duty elevator coated in blood. An elevator like this would also indicate something buried deep underneath the base. Say, this elevator seems familiar...

Exhibit G: Monique Santificer's Extremely Ominous Foreshadowing

...Huh. I'm sure that only means good things. So we have a Hellivator and evidence that there's some place that you'd need a Hellivator to get to. Are there any other clues around? Well, there's that handy instruction book on robotics. You can make your own little friend!

POV: You're 5'11 and she's 6'0 And... Oh! looking back at that camera, it looks like someone else made their... their own... friend...

Exhibit H: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- ...I don't think they followed the instructions to the letter. So it seems the people in the bunker were working on combining robots and, er, 'biomass'. I don't think our meaty friend here is The Threat itself, but I do believe that it is some aspect of it, or at least a result of it. And whatever The Threat is, it seems to be "leaking" out of the bunker. After all, this toothy bot here seems to have little siblings burrowing out from underground!

Exhibit I: should start running Kerfus. Kerfur. Whatever name they have, they love you! Such a shame that the flesh inhabiting their chassis does not.

they seriously recalled the ++ models over a little thing like this, smh Something deep underground, cursed flesh, and occult sigils. Hmm. Things would tie together neatly if there were, say, some sort of demon around associated with flesh and dark depths.

Part 3: Furfur (and conclusions)

"I WATCH YOU SHIT AT NIGHT" The Great Earl of Hell and raw flesh afficianato, it's Furfur! Demonology refers to him as a liar, but also a teacher of secrets. And he seems to really really like flesh. Not bones, though. He's always leaving those behind.

They say that if you burn an offering of flesh at his altar, he'll give you a marketable Furfur plushie!

The children who survived loved them! Interestingly, there's a certain location connected to Furfur: The bottom of the well. If you pass out at the bottom of the well, you will end up in a (dream of a?) mysterious structure.

Exhibit J: all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well

A few things of note in this place: -More demonic sigils -The only 'exit' is a tunnel leading upward with a broken ladder. And even if you could reach up there, Furfur's giant skull-face is blocking the way. -A unique knife, which when examined in the inventory, says that it was found "deep underground".

How very interesting that this flesh-loving demon has his own little place down in the depths of the earth. And you say the bunker reaching downwards has been spawning horrific robot-flesh amalgamations? Robots that are specifically of human design?

Well then. So here's what I think is going down:

no i'm not crazy it's invisible alien catgirls versus demon cyborgs you weren't listening were you?

-Some scientists from before did a Very Bad Thing in the bunker depths. If I had to venture a guess, it's that they bargained with Furfur for secrets of the flesh, perhaps in the pursuit of cybernetics, biocomputers, or somesuch. This resulted in the Very Bad Thing happening, thus creating The Threat. -The Threat was contained to some extent, but is starting to noticeably leak out. It is also severe enough to have drawn extraterrestrial attention. -The Arirals have sent a squad to monitor the situation and act if necessary. Seeing as there's been no urgent need to act as of yet, they are bored out of their skulls and taking it out on you. -The fact that the bunker hasn't been blown up by catgirl black ops already says to me that the situation down there is delicate, and a 'guns-blazing' approach would be inadvisable. Not only that, but The Threat seems to be tied to technology they have little knowledge of. They would most likely need outside assistance if they want a 'clean' resolution to the problem. -And wouldn't you know it? Right there in the facility is some nerdy, crusty, half-crazed twink that seems to be very proficient in handling human technology. How very convenient.

"average person eats 3 roaches a year" factoid actually just statistical error. Dr. Kel, who-

That's how I think this ties together, personally. Of course, there's always unaccounted for 'loose ends' that may or may not be tied to the Bunker Conspiracy (the rozital pit in particular has been bugging me with its vagueness). Plus there's always the chance that I misinterpreted things like a dumbass. There were a few other smaller things I wanted to cover, but my fingers hurt from typing, and my ability to hyperfixate has its limits. And sorry if the screengrabs are a bit mismatched, I've already spent hours on this post without having to get screenshots from the game myself. If anyone actually read through this monstrosity of a post, congratulations! If you're as deeply brainrotted as I am, feel free to point out the reasons I'm dumb and wrong :)

Addendum 1: Meta Aspects

no, not this. wrong place. wrong time.

Every now and then I hear talk of lore clarifications in Discord servers, Google Docs, etc. Will I be covering these?

(source) The reason? I want to give my impressions based purely on the work as published. Death of the Author and whatnot. The furthest I'll reach 'outside' the games are those ambiguous little teasers on YouTube, which you don't have to be in any 'specific server' or anything to see.

haha what if funni meme robot was irreversibly corrupted by the horrors?

Think of it as me giving a form of feedback on how the game is presented as an isolated work. Anyway, I'll be posting another Addendum later, connecting more demon stuff to the bunker. Fun! One thing I intend to investigate between then and now is a rumor of a very poorly documented... item interaction. As a little preview, consider this note.

It seems, in my pursuit of knowledge regarding a mysterious bunker in an incomplete videogame story, I find myself investigating a skeletal entity of ambiguous origin described as having a single glowing eye. God. Fucking. Dammit. Every time with this shit.

This always seems to happen whenever the protagonist is bullied by tall monstergirls

Addendum 2: Classified

Progress on my investigation has been slow due to a combination of poor RNG and real-life stuff. Fun fact: I've never encountered the fossilhound in my many months of playing, and it looks like that won't change anytime soon!

I'll get you one day, ya boney bastard. In the meantime, it seems that someone has leaked classified pokemon data communications from our employers...

And just who do we encounter within the first few weeks?

Our classified documents are their vacation photos

So it seems that at the very least, our employers seem to be aware of the Arirals. So to what end do they want to draw them out? And why would the Arirals show any particular interest in a human presence in this facility specifically?

They clearly seem to be hiding their presence from the world at large with their cloaking ships and whatnot, but they seem almost eager to grab the attention of anyone working at this particular site.

And, as everyone already knows, Arirals are certified Goobers. They form like 3/5ths of the Counsel of Goobers*. The ones we encounter at the very least are very much not what our employers expect to kill us. So our employers are also aware of the existence of some other threat, possibly even THE Threat. *the remaining members are Kerfuses and Dinguses

Truly an incomprehensible menace from beyond the stars. (source)

Personally, I feel like this all feeds back into my previous thoughts. There is clearly a Threat at this location, and the Arirals probably believe that they may need human assistance to do something here. Or maybe I'm just biased towards whatever random thoughts got cooked up in my head.

Anyway, hopefully next time I'll be back with reports of yanking the lifecrystal out from the Fossilhound's head and shoving it up its ass. I am so, SO sick of trying to get that thing to show up.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Secret Brothers

I have been thinking about a Demon Twins DCxDP crossover, specifically one where absolutely everybody is confused.  Also Ra’s is the Asshole. 

Let’s take a walk.

Damian and Dante(Danny) were twins, raised together, trained together, and loved each other deeply. Talia, though not the best of parents by most measures, does love her children.  The twins are raised as assassins and were extremely effective when teamed together. So effective that Ra’s Al Ghul decided that together they were a threat. He decides that Damian is the preferred twin and heir.

At age nine, almost exactly, Ra’s sends Dante out with another Assassin, who has orders to kill Dante.  The results of this attempt leaves Dante wandering around Northern Arizona to be found by the Fentons (who were on a road trip), with head trauma that means that the only thing Dante remembers is that his name starts with DAN. Talia and Damian believe that Dante was murdered and his body stolen by parties unknown and decide to hunt down Dante’s murderer.  Ra’s, believing Dante dead, allows it for several weeks before deciding that he did not want his daughter and his heir obsessed with an inconsequential spare. So he has a strong magical spell cast on anyone who would have known Dante in the league, hiding and disguising their memories. 

Eight years pass, Damian and Danny are 17. Damian has been living with Bruce since he was 10 and still does not remember he has a twin. Talia still does not remember that she had two sons. 

Dante, now Danny,  still has no clear memories from before he was found by the Fentons. Even the accident with the portal did not bring back those memories.  By the time we start, he has already come out to his parents about being Phantom (in admittedly the most traumatizing way for the Fenton parents as possible-He, Tucker, and Sam sat them down and showed them the full raw security tapes of the accident before telling them anything. Jack and Maddie may be oblivious and obsessive but they are very intelligent. They realized almost immediately what it meant that their portal opened with Danny inside, even before he was spit out a blackened corpse who healed into Phantom). 

This is a good Fenton Parents, who not only took the half ghost realization well but also immediately became a bit obsessed with not only lab safety, as one of their inventions had killed one of their children, but also with understanding ghost culture. They also immediately started manufacturing weapons for ghosts to use against the GIW(The Fentons are 100%, ride or die, enthusiastic at all times and in this one the moment they realize that there were people hurting Danny…they were ready to rip the GIW apart molecule by molecule).  Phantom has also connected with the Justice League, joined the Justice League Dark, who were able to get the Anti Ecto Acts reversed. The Justice League as a whole knows that Phantom is a half ghost, half human King of the Infinite Realms whose civilian name is Danny Fenton but Batman, nor any of his kids, has not had the opportunity to meet Danny out of uniform, as it were.  Batman and Red Hood know and Trust Phantom, as he has also helped with the Pit Rage (The Lazarus Pits are corrupted Ectoplasm for the win).

Which brings us to our start. 

It’s a pretty basic premise. A Cult (14 people present) decides to summon the Ghost King for power.  When Danny was first crowned he set his summoning, but really didn’t want it to be an open season on summonings. So one of his ‘ingredients’ is a drop of family blood (not specifying if it had to be those he considered family, or blood family) with provisions in place so that Danny would be able to tell if it was being forcibly taken or not through the summoning spell. The cult captures the Batfam and uses Damian’s blood to summon the Ghost King. Who arrives, a little confused. 

He’s even more confused when he sees Batman and Co tied up. Ghost King Phantom peers at Batman, not even paying any attention to the cultist. “Did you call?”

Batman grunts a no and jerks his head to the cultist.

Phantom redirects his focus back to the head Cultist who starts to do a grand speech about glorious power. Phantom interrupts him to ask “How did you get my summoning?”

The Head Cultist lights up with pride, “I have a spell that was able to transcribe your summoning, we used another to make sure we got the right ingredients.”

After a little bit of back and forth the Cultist admit that none of them actually understand the language that they used to summon Ghost King Phantom, nor do they know why they needed the ingredients they did.  Ghost King Phantom pinches the bridge of his nose as he laments that cultists have gotten so damned stupid. Phantom asks each cultist what they hoped to get out of this: 1-13 said they wanted power (in reality the head cultist had a hyperfixation on using the spells he used to transcribe the summoning and gather the ingredients and wanted to see what would happen), number 14 was paid to be there; Number 14 was also a little pissed that the people paying her were not doing basic research so that they knew who or what they were summoning. The Cult thought 14 would be an auspicious number. 

Phantom, now curious, takes a brief interlude (after restraining the other 13) to get more information on 14. She was given $200,000 to be part of the circle. She had a magically binding agreement saying that her soul was not to be offered as payment, that there would be a 5 year moratorium on destroying any planet she happened to be on, and that she could not be targeted directly or indirectly by the cult after they gained power. She was also a former Pre Law Student with an interest in contract law. 

Phantom recruits her for Justice League Dark, even going as far as calling Zatanna down to take her back to the Watchtower.  After she was gone he turned back to still tied up Batfam to apologize. He went to say that Constantine had agreed to go to therapy if they could find a way to fix his Contract/Soul issues, of which there were so many (some of the pieces of his soul had been sold multiple times, other were sold as a larger piece then resold by Constantine in smaller pieces while the contracts for the larger pieces were still active, a half dozen of the ‘your soul belongs to me after death’ type contracts had defaulted on the demon's side before they defaulted on Constantine’s side, one piece of Constantine’s soul-in theory a downpayment on a contract- may or may not have been straight up stolen, then sold by a metaphysical fence three dimensions over and might be in the soul equivalent of The British Art Museum) and that Phantoms sister has been eagerly waiting to study Constantine psyche under a microscope. So a Pre Law student with an interest in contract law was too good a find to pass up. 

After untying the Bat fam, Phantom turns to Batman and says that Phantom really does need to figure out how the idiot cultists managed to summon him, so he needed the cultists for a bit to go over what exactly they did and said but after that they could be arrested.  One of the remaining cultists, not the head cultist, objected to being sent to prison. Without missing a beat Phantom shrugged and said he could throw anyone who objected into a hell dimension for a while, clarifying a while could be anywhere from three days to the heat death of the universe. 

The cultists were more cooperative after that. 

Red Robin suggested that the Bats stay too, since it was also in their best interest to figure out how Damian managed to be an ingredient in Phantom’s summoning.  

Phantom goes over every step of the preparation, the spell to know the ingredients, the spell to transcribe the summoning, and the words themselves all the while sighing every so often in irritation at the downward spiral of cultists in general. 

Despite a cacophony of errors including but not limited to:

 -Mixing the ingredients for the ‘paint’, which the instructions specifically said to mix on site and only as needed, early and storing it in one of the cultists bedrooms (Phantom:...you know that mix is highly hallucinogenic, right?/Cultist: Is that why I’ve been followed by a pink bunny for the last three days?/ Phantom<sighing>:Yes, that is why you have been followed by a pink bunny for the last three days) 

-Adding additional runes to the summoning circle, specifically the runes for sacrificing someone (Cultists: The picture of all the other circles had those rune, we figured it was a typo/ Phantom: it wasn’t)

-Inverting one of the added runes, which switched the party receiving the power and the party being sacrificed (Phantom: Because of those runes, I am able to eat all your souls for the purpose of powering Batman and his entourage/Batman:Please don’t, they all give me enough headaches without getting powers/Phantom:looks like you are all in luck.)

Despite these errors the summoning actually worked exactly as intended. So Robin makes the suggestion that they must have some sort of blood relation.  Phantom shrugs and says that he always thought he was an orphan. One of the birds goes “Thought?”. Phantom smiles sheepishly and says that his sister thinks that Phantom escaped from a cult, but that he has no memories prior to being found by his parents at age 9. He also wonders how closely related he would have to be to someone to show up as family.

An offer is made to go to the Batcave and check with a DNA test to see how closely related they are, which Phantom accepts. On the way there Spoiler asks how one gets a Half Ghost. 

Phantom, who is very blase about Death having a near Danny experience, says: Well, you take a 14 year old idiot, yours truly, put him in what he thought was a non working portal to the realm of the dead, add in an accident that caused him to hit the on button that was inexplicably on the inside. And I do mean inexplicably, to this day my parents still don’t know why they put the on button there. It turns out having a portal to the dead open on top of and through you has some really weird side effects.   

This is a slightly worrying answer but frankly masked heroes/vigilantes don’t have a great grasp on normal anyway and Phantom assures them that his parents got much better about lab safety afterwards.  This dovetails into a very casual discussion between everyone about what everyone thought was the most painful way to die and which kind of events sucked the most to live through. 

They get back to the Batcave and Phantom transforms back into Danny (to get the most accurate comparison. Phantom's blood is mainly ectoplasm which would mess with the DNA test, Danny’s blood still has ectoplasm but much less).  Everyone stares at Danny, before Nightwing makes a joke about Robin and Danny sharing a face.  

At the minor cajoling of Nightwing, supported by Agent A, the Bat Fam unmasks. Danny blinks at them and says to Damian ‘Hey, we do share a face.’

They start the blood test. Everyone is taking bets on how close they are related and from what side. This is all still very casual, very much an air of ‘what a weird coincidence’.��

The blood test comes back twins. Everyone looks at the test, then back at Danny and Damian, then back at the test. Without needing any discussion Bruce runs the test again, despite the fact that the visual clues do indicate it was correct the first time.  It still says Twins. 

Damian is both baffled and a little offended. He did not know he had a twin out there. In theory, if Danny left the League at 9 Damian should have some memories of him. Most of the Bat fam thinks this is another case of Talia being a lying asshole.  Cass peers at both Danny and Damian, and signs that something feels strange about the lack of memory (Oracle puts forth the idea that it’s possible they were raised apart in the league. Damian is sure his mother would have told him if he had a twin).  At some point magical memory manipulation is brought up and they contact Zatanna (masks having been put back on, though Danny remains in human form), who comes down gushing about the 14th cultist, whose name was Rachel, who was already plowing through Constantine contracts and already found a clause that would let Constantine reclaim one of the shards of his soul.  

Zatanna is able to find the spell that hid the memories of Danny in Damian's mind.  She warns that it looks like it affected more than Damian and breaking it would remove it from everyone who was affected. Damian looked for Danny’s permission first (as they did not know who or why the spell was cast- it could have been for Danny’s protection). Danny gave the ok and Zatanna removed the spell. She left quickly so that the Bats and birds would feel comfortable showing their identities again.

The effect was immediate. Damian went pale and teary eyed (due to the spell he was never able to process the ‘death’ of his brother, basically the trauma spent the last eight years festering under the spell) and whispered ‘Dante?’ before lunging to pull his twin close. Jason was a little dazed (he had a few memories of seeing the demon twins together, at a distance). Danny, whose amnesia was not because of the spell, was unaffected but still hugged Damian, who was now clutching at his brother and crying. 

Far away Talia sat straight up from a sound sleep. Her mind flooded with memories of her precious second son. The son who was murdered and has remained unavenged for 8 years. She quickly made arrangements to head toward New Jersey, she would stop and see Damian and invite him on a hunt. 

It becomes clear quickly that Danny would be staying in the manor for at least the night, Damian did not want to let go of him.  He calls his parents and gives them a brief rundown of the situation (was summoned by weird cultist, found blood family-a twin brother and a father, twin brother was bespelled to forget he had a brother and breaking the spell had made him clingy, would be staying in Gotham for a bit). 

His parents run through a Jazz created set of call and response code phrases to make sure that Danny, and now his brother, were not being held by the cult they presume Danny escaped from. After Danny gives the all clear phrases, Maddie asks to speak with his Biological Father.   

Danny hands the phone over to Bruce, where Maddie cheerfully tells him that He and his entire family would be bringing Danny back to Amity Park on Sunday (it was a Thursday, but it was also summer so Danny could stay for a few days) and staying for dinner, that Maddie, Jack, and Jazz all had some concerns about Danny’s condition when he had been found, that any of Danny’s siblings (making it clear that this also included anyone Damian considered a sibling) were now one of her children as well and if Bruce was or became a threat to any of her children Maddie would kill him, and should Bruce pass her vibe check they could discuss shared custody of the children.  Then, without changing tone, asks how many she should be expecting for dinner on Sunday. 

Bruce answers and hands the phone back to Danny, reminding himself that he had gone toe to toe with actual Gods, he should not be intimidated by a cheerful voice on a phone. He is also trying not to think about the fact that he had acquired yet another child he had not known about. Not to mention running through everything that Phantom had ever told him and trying to stave off several retroactive panic attacks.

It takes a bit but they get Damian calmed enough that they are able to get everyone upstairs, where Danny ends up sharing with Damian (who is still working through eight years of trauma and panics if Danny is not right there). 

On Friday, Talia gets in contact with Damian about hunting Dante’s murderer down. Once Damian assures Danny that Talia was not his murderer (as he could now remember them hunting for Dante’s murderer and their combined grief) and did love him, Danny was willing to meet with Talia.  The Bat fam insist on going with the twins to meet with their biological mother. 

Talia takes Danny being there about the same as Damian did.  Not even Bruce had ever seen her cry before.  She, in her own way, practically begged to be allowed to stay in Gotham with her sons for a bit. Bruce agreed and arranged that she would also go with them to Amity Park to meet Danny’s family. It also takes Talia about 45 second of thought, now that she is not blinded by rage and grief,  to realize that the only person who could have arranged Dante’s murder would have been her Father, and that he was probably the one responsible for their magical memory loss as well.  Tim might have his issues with Talia, but he actually hated Ra’s more; they started scheming together to help Talia and Damian express their displeasure over his actions.

I do want to note, Danny does not start getting memories of being Dante. Those memories are gone as a result of head injury and trauma. While both Talia and Damian would prefer if Danny remembered them, they are so pleased that he is actually alive, as it were, that they are not pushing him.   

When they bring Danny back to Amity Park that Sunday, Jack and Maddie greet all of the ‘kids’ (Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Cass, Duke, Steph, Barbara) with specialized weapons, non lethal but will knock out a human quickly  and customized to each child's preferred weapon, hugs, and the family Fudge recipe (which they also give to Alfred) for each of them. Plus gear to prevent being overshadowed and an offer to upgrade all of their current armor and gear.  Talia and Maddie, after a quiet heart to heart, got along frighteningly well (there is a brief discussion about Ra’s and Maddie increasingly creative threats). Jack gets in loud, delighted conversations with each of his new children, somehow finding a special interest for each of them to ask questions about.  Damian is able to step away from Danny for a bit to get into a discussion with Sam, in which everyone decides that they did NOT actually hear the two of them planning some kind of eco terrorism campaign that would end with Lex Luthor broken and crying on the ground.  Tucker and Barbara are enthusiastically talking about hacking while Tucker promises to introduce her and Tim to Technus, who would be a huge fan. Jazz is chomping at the bit to put together psyche profiles for each of them so she can be the best sibling possible. 

At some point Vlad comes in (he had mellowed out once he, Jack, and Maddie got together. It turns out he had been pining for both of them but convinced himself it was only Maddie) and booms that he needs to come meet his brother Bruce. Vlad, knowing exactly how Jack can be, sighs a little and asks how long Bruce Wayne has been his brother. Jack responds cheerfully since he brought Danny back and they realized he was Danny Biological father (Maddie had not asked Bruces name nor any identifying information during her threatening phone call. Jazz despaired).

I think it would be very funny, after the trope of Batman/Bruces Adoption thing, that the entire bat fam is forcibly but cheerfully adopted by the small mid western family, their close friends, and a very haunted town.