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darkspace7 · 1 month ago

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[ And To Tell Their Ghosts We'd've Still Loved Them If They Were Here ]

(Or: a collection of working backstory notes + some mini-fic for my Twisted Wonderland Yuusona OC)

[ Ramshackle Dorm ]

-------x-------Alex White/Akihito Yukishima\雪島秋人 -------x-------

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- Class: N/A (NRC Custodial Staff) Birthday: January 18 (Capricorn) Age: 27 Height: 158.75cm/5'2" Dominant Hand: Right Favourite Subject: Art Hobby: Fiber Arts Likes: Various Forms Of Storytelling Media Dislikes: Too Many To List... Favourite Food: Smoked Salmon Least Favourite Food: Tomato Juice Special Skill: Exorcism & Purification of Wayward Souls

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Don't let his short stature and quiet demeanor fool you. This tired and jaded twenty-something with a penchant for snark and heavily-repressed anger issues originates from a variation of Earth where all sort of malicious things lay frothing under the cover of night. It was up to individuals like him -[ Exorcists ]- to keep these entities under control and out of the public eye.

Because not only were the things that went bump in the night real, they also clearly wanted you dead.

[His appearance at the onset of arrival to Twisted Wonderland after giving the rather sketchy Headmage of Night Raven Collage his working pseudonym "Alex White". Don't be fooled by his gentle looks, he's an absolute feral opossum of a man.]

"Did you know that both [ blood & salt ] make a very versatile base for talismans and other such anti-magical warding items? No? Well pay attention now, it seems like that you're about to receive a practical demonstration."

(As demonstrated in the image above talismans are just one of the many tools of the trade that he hefts around with him to carry out his various jobs. Such items include:

A [ Magitool Hammer ] {found in one of Ramshackle Dorm's locked storage rooms and while initially intended as a multitool for the production of furniture and various repairs it was later repurposed as a weapon for self defense.}

[ Salt Encrusted Gloves ] {While they originally were an ordinary pair of gloves, upon modification through the hammer they can now serve a mean punch toward any unruly specter.}

[ Refillable Hidden Knife Set ] {Yet another item produced by the versatile magitool. These are used for both self defense and to carve wards onto various surface around both the Dorm and NRC in general. White also keeps several squirreled away on his person just in case he has a need to draw blood for any sort of reason. Not like any one would believe you if you dared mention it; they're just so small after all and the poor thing is unable to cast even the simplest spell! So how much of a threat could they really be?}

[ The Ghost Camera ] {Fell in love with the Fatal Frame vibes and may or may not have named it after the Camera Obscura.}

[ Château de Vainglory ] {A revolver pistol crafted in secret with the magictool and then tucked away in the depths of White's secret bunker for worst case scenarios. This becomes relevant later on.}

These and other assorted items that he's acquired from his stay in Twisted Wonderland are kept squirreled away in his Secret Bunker ((which is really just the old storage room that he's repurposed into a sort of anti-magical bolthole/panic room that's been warded to high hell)) because when dealing with the supernatural you can never be too careful after all.)

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(The hidden bolthole was decided upon as a must have even before White's unfortunate first run in with the resident spectral entities but this decision was only cemented upon as an absolute necessity when the man somehow managed to stumble headfirst into a live demonstration of the local Overblot phenomena.

You see, Overblotting is the magical equivalent of becoming a malicious type of spiritual entity when you're still alive through the process of putting an overwhelming amount negative energy directly on one's magic. If not treated succinctly an Overblot victim can die and become a full blown Phantom which is a essentially a magic-based Revenant.

((Revenants are the product of when a nonmagical person dies and undergoes a corruption similar to Overblotting due to overwhelming negative energy and were in fact the primary foe in which Exorcists had to contend with back in White's old world.))

Healthy magic users under normal circumstances usually have a base blanket immunity to the process of Overblot which has the added effect of making ghostly possessions rare but on the off occasion an outright malicious spirit does manage to latch ahold of a magic being it can result in a Bogeyman ((Phantom-Based)) or a Poltergeist ((Revenant-Based)).

However as non-magical folk are lacking this basic protection it can make them the more likely targets of a possession by either sort of spiritual entity with resulting machinations of a Revenant giving rise to a Ghoul ((which feeds on the individual's energy until poor soul's entirety is eventually corrupted giving rise to another Revenant)) or a Lich ((in which the individual's possession by a Phantom results in them being used as a fuel source and potentially being subsumed.)) To give an fortunate example of a near disastrous miss, there was White's introduction with the Ramshackle Ghosts. Due to his presence at the campus the spirits ((who had admittedly been allowed to fester for way too long and were teetering on the edge of becoming Revenants themselves)) naturally assumed that White had the selfsame protection that all magic users possessed and acted on such assumptions despite the reality of the matter being the exact opposite case. White, however, confident in his assertion that if these spirits did by chance manage to possess him then it would undoubtedly have done irreparable harm did what one who possessed a hard-earned fighting instinct garnered from a lifetime of having his very soul put on the line would do.

He dodged.

And with that ring of the bell began a long familiar dance with death for the fair-haired man, albeit with a slightly more noticeable bit of fire this go around courtesy of his new cat-like companion.

The situation was eventually handled ((through a bit of thorough explanation on Crowley's part and perhaps some promises of gratuitous violence and hastily crafted warding talismans on White's behalf once the Headmage had left)) and the ghosts eventually seemed to get the memo and settle down and begrudgingly let bygones be bygones.

Even if the whole deal did kind of piss him off.)

{For theoretical (and probably canon divergent) storyline featuring White that I'm tentatively dubbing the [ Eclipsing Phantom Arc ] it would most likely be set in a nebulous timeframe somewhere along the lines of late fall or early winter just after a heavy snowfall for peak dramatic effect. We'd get to see in this wholly original (and totally not inspired by the Castlevania Aria/Dawn of Sorrow Duology) tale of just why this feral possum man is the way he is in this.}

So to set the scene for things to come it would start like this: one of the History of Magic teachers would be up at the podium lecturing about the historical significance of the upcoming Crimson Moon Eclipse and the traditional association between the various celestial bodies in retrospect to magic as it is known today, and then we cut to White who had been listening in just outside the door with a thoughtful expression on his face as he did his job as a school janitor.

Grim, who (being the unhelpful menace that he was) had already decided that cleaning was a waste of his time and was currently lying sprawled out on the once spotless tile, had noticed the other's distant look and naturally asked what's up.

"Oh, nothing." The albino answered with his characteristic evasiveness. Clearly unsatisfied with that non-response, cat monster continued to pester him until he admitted, "I was just reminiscing is all." Seeing Grim's expectant expression somewhat reluctantly continued, "Just before I ...arrived... here there was total eclipse where I was at, is all."

Jumping at the bit to learn more about his enigmatic roommate Grim prodded further but was unable to get another word from the reluctant man by the time the bell interrupted him signifying that the lecture was over.

White moved to collect the cleaning items so he could put them away and get out of the hallway before the throng of students leaving class up and swept him away. He even manages to make it halfway there before he is suddenly accosted by some random underclassmen.

Now if it were a normal day White would instantly be suspicious of these random teenagers accosting him but he had admittedly not been having the easiest time sleeping lately —what what with how bad things had been with the Overblot Epidemic recently and the continually mounting stress from not only having to play some sort twisted battle therapist for everyone (despite being not even remotely qualified to be a school counselor) but also having to deal with Crowley's stark unwillingness to give him anything but the barest scraps to use as resources– and it was starting to wear him down so naturally he managed to miss their malicious smirks and mischievous snickers denoting the most likely ill intentions. But just as they began to tug him off to the side and away from the more populated halls just who should round the corner but resident Heartslabyul prankster Ace Trappola and his (fellow associate? Ally through extended circumstance?...Friend? Fuck, he'd really have to figure that whole situationship out at some point or another) Deuce.

Naturally when they caught sight the elusive campus cryptid seemingly chatting it up these unfamiliar students Ace, of who could readily admit to having had a mischievous streak the size of the Schoenheit's wardrobe immediately wanted to know what was up.

Perhaps it was some students who needed help cleaning (boring) or maybe they had heard of the man's infamous hammer and just wanted to see it in action (slightly less boring) or perhaps there was some kind of prank afoot?

(And while the red-head was suitably distracted with his musings he also wound up missing the sheer maliciousness glee positively radiating from the group of upperclassmen, however his friend Deuce most certainly did not.)

So with a quick jab to the side that the other was brought back to reality and the duo unanimously chose to (not so subtly) follow.

They watched as the boys managed manhandle him into an empty lecture hall. Darting in before the door fully shut and quickly ducking behind one of the seats on the upper row, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust because for some reason it appeared as though the lights had been switched off and, strangely enough, a spell cast to block the light incoming from the windows as well. All in all a suspiciously dark room that only further gave credence to the red-head's prank theory.

Suddenly a single dim light flickered into being surround the hall's small dais. It's presence illuminating both the fair-haired man (who had somehow managed to make his way down the rickety flight of stairs without stumbling once) and the shadowy figure crouching at the edge of the stage with their back to them.

Judging from the quiet snickering from either sides of them, was it another underclassmen perhaps?

As the light seemed to flicker for a second before brightening again as the figure stood up and turned a r o u n d...

Only to reveal a {mirror image} of the waif-like man?

The lookalike faced his doppelgänger with blank expression that that seemed to flicker in time with the light before slowly twisting into a smirk.

(Even in the near-dark it's hard not see the way White's body seems to freeze and while they might not have been able to catch the albino's expression at this angle it seems that the fiery feline at his side did. And if whatever he'd seen was enough to make the normally boisterous feline seem almost genuinely petrified? Then the elder of the Heartslabyul duo thought that it did not bode well at all.)

The figure seems to open it's mouth as if to make a derisive comment but the moment it does the light appears to flicker and cut out once more only to come back on a second later, just in time for them to catch sight of White's magitool hammer slamming straight into a face that mirrored his own. With the force of the blow sending the doppelganger sprawling to the floor they didn't have time to process this abject turn of events before he was upon the fallen man, hammer poised above his head for the next swing. A look of utter terror etched across doppelgänger face as the hammer smashed into it's head and magic binding it to this world fractured and broke apart.

Spell broken, the lights flickered on and the shadowed hold on the windows released allowing for sunlight to filter back into the room. Yet a lone shadow remained, and it was currently standing center stage before them cutting a mighty figure as he bore the weight of the kill with a discordant calm. White-blonde hair shown around his crown like an ethereal halo as the older man slowly tilted his head back to bask in the light.

Before he had even realized it he had pushed himself up from his crouch and left the safety of his hiding spot, ignoring the red-headed teen's startled hiss. "...White?"

The muted sound of his voice seemed to do the trick. White blinked out of his trance, his head snapping to the dark haired teen. Wide grey eyes raked over his form before turning to the grey-furred monster clutching at the edge of the dais as if for dear life. His gaze fell to the magitool tightly clutched in a trembling hand as he evidently realized what he'd done. Everything was still for moment before he twisted on his heal and bolts forward straight out the open window.

"Ah wait-!"

Dead silence.

"Ah man, how lame was that?"

...Huh?

"Yeah, I thought it'd be something a bit more interesting."

What?

"Ugh, you probably just cast the stupid spell wrong and that's why it went off the rails like that. It's ex umbra in mala somnia not ex umbra in mala speculum genius."

What.

A harsh snicker, "But did you see the look in the Mirror Shadow's face? What a riot! That would've been so much funnier if the original had been like that but y'know how it is."

Excuse me?

A shrug, "I mean, it'd make sense wouldn't it? The lack of magic would definitely thrown something off. Or maybe I guess it could've just been because he's a little freak."

What.

Various noises of agreement echoed around the room to the pair's rising bafflement as the other upperclassmen decloaked themselves, evidently having been there the whole time. But it was that final comment that cinched it for them.

"I'm sorry, but can someone explain to me what the actual fuck that what was that supposed to be?" The red-head shoved himself up from behind the seat where he had hid, a deep scowl etched into the teen's face.

"...Um. A prank? Dude, where did you even come from???"

"From the door." He retorted with an exasperated roll of the eyes and if he weren't so pissed right now he would have laughed at the other's flatfooted expression as they sputtered like the dumbass they were. But at least it gave him a moment to think which was good because, honestly, he had been just seconds away from doing…something not very nice.

He lifted a hand to stop the oncoming headache and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Sorry, I'm trying to make sense of this but what kind of bullshit prank involves a group of people luring someone in to a secluded room casting something like that on them?"

"Hey, yeah!" Grim, who had remained fixed at the edge of the dais seemed to bristle, forked tail swishing irritably as his claws flexed. "What even was that anyway?!"

Deuce glanced at the red-head as well because, even though it pained him to admit, he had not done too well on the last generalized curse exam and currently was taking remedial lessons to make up the credit. But even someone like him could tell by the way it had been phrased as well as the irritated expression plastered across his face that it couldn't have been good.

He looked uncomfortable as he explained, "It's a type of paralysis spell; it uses darkness to knock a person out while they're still awake and then trap them in a loop of fear and nightmares until they either break from it themselves or someone else cancels the spell for them."

"Oh." He processed that for a second and when the ball dropped rounded on the other upperclassmen, hands digging into the lapels of the nearest one's uniform. "Dude! What the fuck?!"

"...Okay I know this looks bad but it was just supposed to be a prank, honest! We were just were going to knock him out, steal his stuff and set it on fire, then draw rude things on him before trying him to one of the light poles outside. I mean, until the loser tossed himself out a window." A pause. "Huh, it really does sound bad when you put it that way."

One of the others palmed their face with a groan as both of the underclassmen (and Grim) seemed to process this statement with thunderous expressions. "...You really aren't helping our case man."

"Stow it ah—"

"Hey!"

"Watch the shirt, watch the shirt!"

"I'm gonna do worse than ruin your stupid shirt you-"

"Hey you dolts!" Grim cut across with a plume of flame as he huffed, "'He just tossed himself out a window.'" Met with blank stares he growled, stomping a foot down and waving a frantic grey-furred paw at the open window. "Aren't we on one of the highest floors right now?" They ruminate on this for a second this before the ball dropped.

"Oh shit White!"

"Hey, wait for me!"

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Well, good news he wasn't dead.

Bad news, he was about to be if he didn't do something within the next five seconds.

'Damn it, not again.' He thought with a slight grimace.

Seriously, who was his bloodline cursed by for him to live such an interesting life as this? When he finally did manage to die (and somehow didn't manage to become a Revenant in the process) he wanted to have some words with them.

He twisted himself midair, giving an about face to the vibrant blue as gravity dragged him into a freefall; hard grey eyes narrowed as they scanned the area. Searching for...

...there!

Target locked, he swung the magictool as hard as he could with the silent prayer that it's area of effect took hold. A beat. Then two. As the ground drew ever nearer in it's encroach he felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck until finally he could feel near imperceptible charge of the item as it latched onto his intent. He didn't even have time for a halfhearted mental cheer before the near magnetic force yanked him back toward the tower with its rapidly changing stonework.

With mere seconds to work with, he flipped the hammer into a two-handed grip and allowed the velocity to carry him along the makeshift slingshot around the tower until the stone could no longer withstand his weight and collapsed taking him with it. He was deposited roughly onto the slick stone and almost immediately began to slide along a slanted tile roof.

From there it was only through a combination of some admittedly bullshit reflexes and a thankfully recalled lesson that included the history and location of every single gargoyle installed on campus (thank you Sir Pointy-Horn, you weird rock-obsessed fae bastard) that he was able to catch himself on the edge of the building and prevent his impulsive self-defenestration attempt from reaching its logical end.

The rest of the path down was a breath of relief in comparison, with parkour skills only slightly hampered by the ache in his limbs from where they had been nearly pulled from their sockets (he had worked with much worse this was nothing) so he still made it down in record time.

'And hopefully they wouldn't mind the alteration to the school's decor too much.' He thought as he crab-walked across a window ledge, stopping once he reached a suitable expanse of hedges before unceremoniously dropped down with an undignified flail into the not-to-soft greenery. 'Ah geez, I hoped no one saw that.'

"...White???"

(Someone saw it.)

Slowly, he turned around and who should he see but the Housewarden of Scarabia Dorm and possibly one of the most excitable boys he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. (Oh and it seemed Jamil was here too because of course he was.)

He could already see the awed sparkle in the taller boy's eyes as he bounced on his heels as well as the absolutely dumbfounded look on his minder's face and felt the creepings of dread run down his spine.

"That was amazing!!!"

...Fuck.

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"Where is he?!"

"I don't know, he'd probably have wound up somewhere around here."

"You don't think-"

"Wait, I think I see him!...Is that Kalim?"

"And you'd just have to do some sort of an acrobatics routine as part of the display, maybe we could work in a whole black-and-red astronomical theme because of the eclipse? Oh but the parade grounds outside of our dorm is kind of flat aren't they so that wouldn't really work but, ah! What about your dorm? It's got all those rickety edges and stuff for an added flare of danger plus we never really get to hang at your place, it'd be really fun! Say, is it really haunted like they say-"

"..."

"...White? Um, what-?"

Taking note of the approaching teens the short albino shot them his equivalent of a pleading look as Kalim obliviously continued to chat his ear off. How had things even come to this anyway? One moment he was being grilled by the boy about his previously unknown proficiency in the art of parkour and the next he had been treated to a full-frontal blast of Typhoon Kalim.

He'd just been trying to deflect the commentary by asking him what book he had in his arms there, but Kalim had somehow took it as an invitation to not only infodump about tonight's Crimson Moon Eclipse (which evidently was named so because of a once-in-a-millennium comet running interference between the seasonal red moon and their world or something to that effect) and what he learned about it from their most recent lesson but to go full-steam ahead and invite himself along to the viewing party he so graciously convinced (coerced) him into having back at the Ramshackle Dorm.

The newcomers had a hard time fighting back a snicker or two at the sheer absurdity of the event at least until Al-Asim finally noticed them.

"Oh? Hello! Have you all come to help us with the party tonight?"

The laughter stopped immediately. The elder of the trio flailed his hands in front of himself, as if to ward off the very notion. "Ah...no we-"

(The quiet force of Jamil's { glare } was something to contend with. After all it was a known law of the universe that Kalim's whims shan't be denied lest ye poor unfortunate souls suffer dire consequences.)

"...Uh. Sure?"

"Great!" Kalim clapped his hands together, twirling on his heel as Jamil followed behind. Those left behind shared a look as he sole adult of the group pinched the bridge of his nose with a stifled groan.

This was going to be a long day.

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And that was the story of how the four of them had somehow been roped into helping set up Kalim's party at White's dorm against the man's own wishes.

(And damn it all, he still had leaves in his hair from that godforsaken bush. He just wanted to hobble back to that nightmare of a safety inspection they called a dorm, take a shower in the very limited hot water they had here, then conk out on that threadbare mattress for the next twenty-eight hours. But was he going to get to do any of that? No. Because he now had to set up for a fucking party. What the hell? This was some next-level bullshit.)

What followed was one of the most ridiculously exasperating spy-vs-spy shit that any of them had the misfortune to experience.

On one side: Deuce & Trappola —the leaders of this whole venture and seemingly the only ones who cared enough to bother when it was first brought to their notice that something was seriously up with their resident janitor cryptid/semi-responsible adult figure in the first place– and their allies; Jamil (who was unwilling to let the earlier display go with that half-arsed explanation if only for the sake of Kalim's wellbeing), Sebek (who had just arrived with the caterers, citing the need to scope the venue out ahead of schedule for his fellow dormmate's safety), and Epel (who had honestly just came to get away from the rest of his dorm for a bit and succinctly been roped into this tomfoolery the second he set foot through the door.)

Their mission: figure out what the fuck was up with Ramshackle Dorm (and perhaps its sole caretaker by extension) without getting waylaid by various shenanigans or arousing the suspicion of the scrungly man himself.

And on the other hand, we had the aforementioned albino himself. Someone who was shanghaied into this whole mess and was now two threads away from a panic attack because of the newfound need to race around the dorm without anyone else noticing in order to collect all of his esoteric necromantic research material so that he could squirrel it away in the hidden bolthole before some poor unfortunate bastard managed to stumble upon it.

(Because, as it turned out, even in a whole ass different world where magic fuckery was commonplace and weirdness was mundane anything having to do Death and What Lied Beyond was evidentially still a step too far. Hypocrites.)

It was only a small mercy that he had managed to talk Al-Asim down from inviting everyone and their mother's dog but it seemed that he couldn't get out of having a collection of eclectic individuals such as the other Housewardens and their friends along with a small handful of others from being placed on the summons.

(Really, for those sorry beings who were either free with absolutely nothing better to do on such a dreadful night as this or selfsame others who were actively avoiding such responsibilities and decided the only way to spend the time doing so was in this OSHA violation of a place were the only ones who would even bother anyway. Maybe it was a good thing though as having a bunch of friends would make this whole stealth thing a lot more difficult for him. Besides who would really want to hang out with a grim weirdo like him? After all he's done? Plus he wasn't winning any awards for his personality after all. The idea was laughable really.)

And then there were the outliers, such as the trio from Octavinelle who had just arrived to do the catering and had yet to be involved in shenanigans but once either twin caught wind of what was going on the would assuredly join in on the chaos, or Riddle who had taken one look at the mess they were making thought the whole thing ridiculous and —after yelling at the group a bit– left to help clean up, Kalim who remained wholly oblivious to the other's antics as he continued to decorate.

And finally we had Grim, who had originally been on team investigator but got distracted halfway and decided to raid the kitchen for snacks. As one does.

('It's kind of funny...' The furred cat-beast thought to himself as he pawed futilely at the locked cabinet door that he knew White kept some salmon jerky behind. 'But, like, in a really messed up way. Does that make sense? Maybe? Eh, the ghost would probably understand. Y'know, if they were still around. Those guys would probably think the whole deal was a riot.' He growled at the makeshift child-lock, forked-tail flicking in annoyance. 'Yeah, fun guys once you got past the murder attempts. Shame they seem to be rather sparse lately. Wonder why that was?' A pointed ear twitched as he heard the service door to the kitchen open behind him, 'Who knows. Maybe White finally got fed up and made on good on those threats to exorcise them?' Blue eyes gleaming he turned on the newcomer, "Oi! Mr. Octopus, open this door for me! I want treats!")

The wisp of a man just narrowly managed to catch himself from planting face-first into the rough-shod flooring. He shut his eyes, pressing a sweaty glove-covered palm against the wall as the world swayed.

"Just keep it together." He murmured lowly, mentally shutting out the jovial sounds of teenagers at play as he slowly pathetically crawled down an adjacent hall and out of sight.

"Just keep it together-" He repeated, biting back a rush of bile as he hefted himself to his feet. "For a bit longer..." He screwed his eyes shut, letting out a breath through clenched teeth. "Then you'll be done with all this nonsense and you can rest."

(But that's the thing, he would never be done would he? There would always be some new disaster waiting in the wings to rear its ugly head. Some new Overblot Incident caused everyone and their overly uptight mothers insisting on foisting their problems on a bunch of overpowered children instead of dealing with it themselves. Some sort of *magical mishap* that needed 'his special touch' to solve; nevermind there was a number of other people who could do just as well, if not better, but were probably actually qualified to do so. Some poor soul who had finally surrendered to the darkness in their hearts and let it consume them body and soul so now he had to be one to put them down before they could hurt anyone else-)

A harsh smack to the cheek, "C'mon, get your shit together man." He hissed. "It's just a little exhaustion. This is nothing compared to back then, soldier. Don't let it get to you."

After all, to show weakness was to invite negativity into one's soul. To invite negativity into one's soul was to invite Death. And to invite Death for someone like him...

Well. The less he said the better.

"...White?" Said individual stilled. Epel's voice didn't really carry all that much, not as much as someone like Sebek's did, but honed ears could still pick up the distinct cadence of the shorter teen's masked twang over the chaotic din emanating from the Guest Room. "Hey, just to let you know: Riddle said that Trey and Cater just texted him that they still need to study for Trein's make-up exam tomorrow so they can't come tonight and that they were sorry."

"Y-Yeah?" He called back, resting his head on the wall in front on him. It felt nice and cool. (Or maybe he was overheated? He couldn't tell.) "I'll tell Azul we need two less meals then."

"Also Ace was being a dumbass and tossed Sebek's hat up on top of the chandelier and now Sebek's trying to strangle both him and Deuce for it." What. How the hell... Stupid question, magic. It's always magic.

He resisted pinching the bridge of his nose. "I see."

Well, that at least explained why the green-haired teen was being louder than usual. "I need help with getting it down? Can you c'mere?"

"Y-Yeah. I'll...I'll go grab a stick or something and be right there. Just give me a second!" He called back, a grey eye slit open and the Scheele's Green shaded wallpaper filled his vision as he stared blankly down the hall. "Yeah, sure. Just deal with it. Like you always do. After all the almighty janitor's work is never done." He tiredly let out a quiet laugh.

...Was it just him or did that laugh sound a tad bit bit hysterical?

Eh. It was probably fine.

(His work with these 'restless souls' would never truly be 'done'.)

[N ̷̢̧̧̟̬̗̋̈͜ͅé̸͉̍ ̵̡̢̫̣̯̰̹̪͇͕̅̎̇͒͂̕͠v̵̻̀̀͐̈͛̐͛̚͝͝ ̵̺͚̯̪͓̳͊͌̔͒̏ẹ̴̛̭̟͕͔̞̏̈́̓̋͂̾̕͠ ̵̼͉͍̼̅̎̐̔̇͘͘͝͠r̴̢̡̯̜̗͕̹̓͠ͅ ̷̢̧̺̙̫͉̔̐.̴̠̮̝͍̙͚̝͔̀͆̓̐̊̒̿́̊̆]

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He was three seconds away from giving in to steadily rising urge and strangling these chucklefucks. Would he be in deep shit for doing so? Yes. But it'd be worth it. Honestly, if he didn't know firsthand how chaotic teenage boys could be (having been one himself once upon a time) he could've sworn they were doing it on purpose.

It had taken them around thirty minutes and eventually just resorting to throwing random items at the chandelier but they had finally managed to get Sebek's hat down and stop the uptight kid from bringing any more ghosts into the world.

But then it was Azul's turn to inform him that Grim had somehow managed to get into the pantry (again) and proceeded to eat all of his salmon jerky (again) so he had to go scruff the little gluttonous bastard and put the recovering Tappola on Grim Watch (and for some extra insurance —with Riddle's blessing of course– Deuce was placed on Ace Babysitting Duty) while he finished with Jamil and the Octavinelle Boys in the kitchen.

Every moment he managed to finish something it seemed like someone would something else or there was something or another that need his input so he couldn't have moment's rest and (not that he would admit it) but he was very visibly beginning to flag.

One silver-lining was that —save for a single item– he had successfully managed to scoop all of his strange curios with everybody else none the wiser.

The last thing on the list being a sole lined journal, one he had dutifully scribbled in ever since he managed to snag it with his 'ruthless bartering skills' from Mr S's Limited Item Shop during his first visit to the School Store. (Though if you asked him, it was really just a glorified clearance bin but if the man himself or his spectral familiars ever heard him call it such a thing he would probably get pissed and cut his supply off and then where would he get his smoked salmon treats or the ground amethysts and unstarched linen he used to make gunpowder talismans?) The red cover of which was currently peaking out from underneath a threadbare pillow that Grim liked to use for napping.

All he needed was to find the right window to nab it and then he'd be golden. However, already an hour in and he had yet to put into practice his slight of hand, and with everyone trapezeing about it only added to the challenge. It was only by a stroke of luck that he had managed to distract the room's newest occupant —(Riddle this time; taking a much needed break from Kalim's...exceeding enthusiasm. Understandable.)– long enough for him bend down and snag it.

Quickly standing up (and nearly keeling over in the process when he overcorrected) he waved off the boy's worried exclamations with a patented placid expression as he subtly slipped the notebook into his back pocket. It was a bit disconcerting though, to be fretted over so adamantly by someone ten years his junior and he didn't quite understand just why the other so concerned about him. It wasn't a child's job to worry about the state of their caregivers, quite the opposite really, and he felt a pang of guilt for even giving rise to the very notion. It had taken him a bit of roundabout conversation and even then the red-head seemed rather reluctant to let it go at least until Kalim emerged once more from the ether to further distract his fellow Housewarden.

Other eyes occupied he drew back into the shadows before quietly edging back of the room and down the hall. Soon the soft lights grew dim and he found the chatter of excitable teenagers through thin walls muffled as he slipped through the darkness of the old dorm.

Normally with it just being Grim and himself as the sole living occupants of their Ramshackle home these rooms stood vacant and abandoned, left to collect dust as a testament to what once was a lively home now forgotten by time. But every once in an odd red moon he found himself wandering about these old bones, his presence breathing life into the place as he took solace in the solitude. This was one such occasion.

Slipping through the threshold, he carefully tugged the knob until the door clicked shut—

Silence...

–and finally all noise ceased to exist.

"Finally."

He let out a long sigh, letting his forehead come to rest on the weathered doorframe—

[O̵̻̕h̶̰̕ ̸̣̅p̸͕̽ö̶̻́o̸͙̚r̵̩̈́ ̴̥́c̶̟̽h̷̢̑i̴̤̚l̶̊ͅd̵͎̽è̸͇ ̴͕̾ȯ̴̼f̵̛̜ ̶̥̾m̷̪̔a̵̺̚n̶̠̓,̵̟̀ ̷̩̒á̵͇l̶̟̋ẁ̷̼ã̷̤ỵ̷̉ș̴̆ ̵͎͑ġ̸͍i̷̻͠v̸̦̏i̸̠͝n̶̟͑ǧ̷̰ ̴̱̈t̶͚̿h̶͉͐y̷̥̆s̸͖̎e̵͕̎l̴̍ͅf̷̗͘ ̶̤̊t̵͔͝o̸̤͠ ̸̖̀o̵̡͒t̶̯͗h̴̩̀ë̴̩́r̶̼͘s̸̻̈́ ̷̙̾b̶͔̿u̷̦͛t̷̬̑ ̵͕̌n̸̈́ͅe̴͍͐v̸̪̊e̵̫̍r̴̰̿ ̷̣̚b̵̠́e̵͔͘i̴̻̓n̷̝̋g̷̯̚ ̷̻̓g̷̬͘ì̸͙v̵̝͂e̷̡̅n̸̙͠ ̴̀ͅt̷͉̄o̷̝͋ ̸͍́i̶̲̅n̸͔̐ ̴̢͋r̵͎͗e̴̫̔t̴̥̕ú̷̘r̵͖͊n̵͈̅.̵̖̑ ̴̘̓ Y̵̫͂o̶͓̐u̷̮̎ ̷͍̋g̷̢̈ĭ̸̳v̵̝͂e̸̙̔ ̵̰̽ḁ̴̐n̵̤͛d̴̪͝ ̷͕̇y̶̟͐o̵̪̓u̵̢͌ ̶̧̾g̶̞̾ȉ̶̢v̶̀͜ě̷̜ ̵̯̒à̶̦n̶̹̓d̶͙̽ ̸̱̚y̸̝̚ō̷̱û̵̹ ̸̳̅g̴̹̾ḭ̷͗v̶̘͌e̵̖̚ ̴̢͝b̴̯͒ǔ̷̡t̸̡͠ ̵̺̀i̵͍͐t̶̹̕'̸͗͜s̴͙̍ ̷̹́n̷̮̒ę̶͆v̶̜́e̸̘̐r̸̩͛ ̴̮̈́ê̶̗ņ̵̇ơ̶̹ũ̴͜g̴͈̃ḩ̶̓ ̷͙͆í̵͙s̵̰̋ ̶̨̀ĩ̷͖t̸̛̩?̴͉̋ W̶͖͙̓̃h̷̞̖̓͌ỵ̴͂,̵͇̰͂ ̸̹̇ỹ̸̟̀ǫ̵̼̈́̆ù̸̙ ̸̭̕c̸̣̹̓̍o̸̤̅ų̴̛̄ḷ̸̰̇̓d̷̝̀̒ ̷̧͍͋̕ē̷̞̜̏v̸̜͕̌͋ȅ̴̩͍n̸͍̾ ̸͔͐͘ģ̴̧̉ì̸̝̦̓v̴͈̙̇è̴̡̱ ̴̙̈́ͅy̸̙͔̽̇o̸̯̲̔û̶͉̩̕ř̷͙ ̸͈̑̅v̷͂ͅë̷͈̌ṛ̷̺͂y̶̥͎̾̈́ ̷̠̆ͅs̴̢͇͆̐ọ̷̳̔̒ū̴̟̉l̴̢͊ ̴̤͌̕a̵̼͎͌̚ṉ̸͝d̸̹̹͂ ̸͚̤̎t̴̮̞̋̉h̴͕̤̚͝ȯ̷̲͉s̴͉̎͠ě̵̜̩ ̴͇͕́͗f̷͚͕͆ó̵̯ơ̷͍͔l̴͎̈́s̷̬͇̽̽ ̴̗̱̚w̶̱̪̆́ö̶̦́̇ṷ̶̀̕͜l̴̬̥̅̓d̵̲̍̂ ̴͓̯͛̍j̵̤̑u̶̜̔͂͜s̵̼͝t̶̢̠̊͆ ̷̙̾ͅl̴̝̊̂ą̸̛p̵̩̃ ̸̨̰̒̎ǐ̴̱̾t̷̻̲̅ ̶̞̟͛u̸̺̜̇p̵̨̤̕ ̷̲͊ḽ̵̛̛ǐ̵̖͔k̶̳̳̃͗e̵͈͒ ̷͎̾f̴̦̜̋ŕ̸̘̹̓e̶̡̝̾͝s̴̖̯̽̊h̴̗͑ͅ ̴̺͔̀a̷̺̓m̸̤̓b̶̨̈́̐r̴͖̐͜ò̴͖s̴̺̎ͅi̸̩͗a̵̰̙̿̃ ̸̬̽a̵̬̹͐̎n̸̪̈́d̵̤̖͌ ̶̡̓̅ţ̸̍h̴͎̘̐e̶͎̟͌ ̴̤̎m̷̞̠̈́o̶̥̠͠m̴͗͊͜e̸͇͛̓n̸̲̂̄t̵̺͚͂͛ ̵̧̃͝y̶̗̕ọ̸̉ų̵͙̑ ̶̭̈w̸̻̉ȇ̸̗r̴̠̎e̶̖̅ ̵̹͌b̷̧̲͆l̷̟̗͠e̷͎̾͠d̸̤͉̏̓ ̴̮̘͌̐d̶̘̠̎͑r̵̪̾y̸̩͛͌ ̶̠͇̏͘t̴̞̀̈́h̷͔̟̽͑ẹ̶͕̇y̵͕͎̚ ̶̯̉̇ẘ̶̗̜̄ȍ̸͎ṵ̷͖́l̸̤̈d̸̛͎ ̷̨͚̉͆a̵̡̼͆͌ŝ̵̛̪͙k̵̹̤͝ ̷̼̭̕ẅ̵̺h̷̫̥̾e̵͈̠̾ṛ̷̳͊ȇ̴͖̚ ̵͔̌̾t̷̟̯̉h̸̞̏̊͜é̴̳ ̶̗̝͐̀ǹ̶͖e̵͈̿x̶̤̫͝t̵̜͐ ̴͚̹̒͒s̶̘͇̎ě̷̞̭͝r̸̠̲͆v̵̭͐i̴̦͕͝n̶̬͑g̵͚̦̾̋ ̵̺̾w̵̙̼͘͝á̶̤̽s̸̖͑̌.̷̞̟͠ ̷̘̑H̶̜̀ỏ̶̳w̷̖̒ ̵̫͆ṕ̴̬a̸͙͑ṱ̶̈́ḧ̴̯́e̵̞̓t̶̞́i̸̗̋c̸͕͆.̴͍̔.]

—And quickly choked on that breath.

The blood froze in his veins and he felt himself going completely still. He felt cold. That...voice. That horrible voice that continued to haunt his nightmares to this very day. He k n e w that voice. Oh, god.

And it seemed that the speaker was wasn't done.

[Ę̵͚̃̆̂v̵̹́e̸̡̛̞͝n̴̮̙̋̉̕ ̷̰̽a̴͓̝̩̎f̸͚̃͋͝t̴͔̆̏̓e̵̤̋͋̏r̸̼͔̈́ ̵̱͋̋b̷̢̛̺͔͆̇r̸̗͙̠̿͘ǐ̶̞̫̒͜ǹ̴̺̈́g̴͈̥̽i̶͍̺͛͐n̴̤̋̑̽g̵̫̉͌̚ ̴̨̭̉b̵͓͚̖͝á̸̝̔̍c̸͉͛̏ḱ̶͉̂͜ ̵̱̜̈͐t̷̫̝̟́̑h̶̡̯̮͆̐ő̷͓͘s̷͔̄́͝ė̵̩̝͙̂ ̶͈̕s̵̡͓͛̇͘c̷̞̟͌o̶̻̼̎ͅr̵͚̪̺͐̀̇n̷̹̹͐ȩ̶̔d̶̢̯͖͝ ̶͖̀͜ÿ̸͍͇͂̀ọ̶̼̟̆̽u̷̘̼̒̈́ͅț̷̈́̕ḧ̵̨͉́̔̀͜ ̴̯̪̈́f̵̯̯̓́r̴͚̗͝o̷̼̽̑m̵̛͕̺ ̸͉̂t̵͎̟͈͐ȟ̷̝̥͊̿e̴̛͙̮ ̸̢̤̌̌̉b̴͕͝r̴̲͚̆í̸̢̻n̷̗͌̄̈́k̵̢̅́ ̸̓̍ͅṱ̸͛h̷̨̤̍a̷̳͌t̴̡̰͂̓̆ ̸̫͎̻́̒̈t̶̯̆͝͝h̸̰̜̔̑̿e̵͖̣͘ͅy̶͈̦͑̌̄ ̸̹͈͗͌t̶̟̝̒̏̾h̸̡̑͑̓e̶͎͕͍̒m̶̟̰͆̚ŝ̷̗̬͑͌ę̷̘̟̎l̷̖̼̆̎͒v̵͌��͔̭e̸̞̫̅̚s̴̩̋ͅ ̶̛̺͕̣́̏r̷̞̟̙̿ë̷̥̬̯̀ű̷̥̠̞ṣ̷̛̭̄͠e̷̗͙̓̊͒d̸̫̔ ̵̪̋̄t̴̘̼̭̀̓̍o̵̫͌͘ ̷̜̟̪̓d̸̲̹̮͒o̵̳͊ ̵̮̇̈ș̷͓̽̈́̄o̷̲̩̫̎̎ ̴͈̬͋͘͜͠h̸̗̀̿͐ọ̷͇͍̅w̷̳̒̑ ̵̲̠͆͜d̵̬̤̣̑̀͛ȯ̷̩̞͋̈ ̷͇̯̱̓̚͝t̶͓̲͝h̸̬̝͛̔̚ͅê̸͇̣̾̊y̵͇̙̋̋ͅ ̴̯̄͑r̵̨̡̫̓̀̍e̶̞̺̘̋͂w̶̦̋͐a̶͎̚r̵̠̫͋d̸̢͇̈́̃͐ ̵̯̬͙̉̐̾y̴͚̿͝ṓ̴̢͉̟ù̸͓̔͑?̶̟̝̐̆͝ Ẃ̶̧̜͈̲̣̀ĩ̸͔̰̬ţ̵̟̱̘̳̄̈́̈́̀̑̽h̵̡̲̲̉́̓ ̸̡̹̘̘̪̎̀̃͠t̷̳̑̃̒̀̎h̵͙̤͖̮͉̳́̍̄͗͠i̷͍̜̓̈̚͘s̴̟̭̳̲̗̈́́̎̈̕ͅ ̶̯͓̞͖͎̤̂t̶̩͉̩̯́͊̍͝͝h̵̬̿̈̀͘r̸̡̢̮̞̎͆́e̸̟̽a̸̡̢̹̩͍̚d̸̨̈́̅b̸̡̼̳̿̎͊̍̒͘ͅa̵̡͔̭͎͛͆̀͆̐̚ŗ̸̟͉͔̑̇̔͌͝͝e̵͇̪̱̣̾͛͛͌ͅ ̵̻̅̃̀̚ͅh̷̼̘̓̀̉͐͑ọ̵̡̞͓͓͂̉̚͠v̸͔̺̗̯͇͗̿̍͠e̶̺̼͆̍l̸̹͗̆ ̸̧̰̬̠̹͑̈̒̿a̸̢̢̨̝̔͑̿͊̾̍n̶̛͔̻͑̾̈́̒d̶͖̈́̒̑̅ ̷̨̩̣̀̾̈́̾̓̕s̷̤̾̀̑͋̃̓e̸̞̲̞̥̖̪̽̈́̇c̴̢̺̻̣͙̹̈̽ǫ̴̰̜͍̓̈̚n̴͈̞͎͖͂̽͗̏͝d̷̨͓̭̬̱͂͊-̷̠̠̈́̓̑̋̕h̵̯̲͔̒̉̌̿a̸̠͑n̷̲̭̮̱̜̊͂ͅd̷̲̽̓̓́͠ ̵̻͌͊s̸̼̻̯̑͒̓͠ͅũ̷̠͓̘̞͌̄p̷̛͕͈͈̱͕͛̂̉͋ṕ̸̯̀l̴̨̦̮͆͗̆̒̆́i̴͚̘̥̿ê̷̦͂s̴͍̟̔͜͝ ̶̨̹̍͌͜t̷̫̒̓̍̀́͝ȟ̸̼͘͠ǎ̵͈͛̒͝t̵̖̣̲̓͑̕͜ ̶̡͉̙͓͋̑͒y̷̮͊̕ọ̷̧̮̦͂́͒̌͝ų̶̹̟̱̋̑͒͝ ̵̰̓͂́͌́̌h̸͚̪̼͕̜͚̑̌̑͂͂a̶̞̬̾̈́̐̌̓̄v̵̦̮̼̽̽͛̾͘͜e̵̺̦͎̰̭͉̕ ̷̱̃̊̽̈͠ẗ̷̪̰̥̮̳̭̆̽͐̔ǒ̸̻̳̚͜ ̷̢͎̞̠̥̾ͅf̸̮̬̃́ĭ̴̢̩̲̍̾́g̵̤̥͈͐h̶̡̹̲͔̞̺̋̃t̷̯̀͆̓̚ͅ ̵͔̃͊̒̔t̶̢͠͝ͅo̸̼̜͋͂ȍ̵̘̜̲̯̙̉ṫ̸̤̬̞̠͊̀̆̐͝ḩ̶͈̑͑͜ ̶͖̔̑͑͑a̵̛̹̮͍̤͌̈́́͝n̵͕͙̎̆̒̇ḑ̷̼͍̗̩͛̓̌̕ ̵̢̡̻̻͖͇͊̊͋͌̊n̶̟̜̻͎̮͒à̷̡̬̝͆͆̈́͘ï̶̡͇͇̞͑͊̓̏ͅl̵̡̼̱͒͂̀͂ ̴̅̀͒͜t̸̮̟̬̑̈́͝͝ȏ̶͉̮̘͇͉̒̿̐͐̆͜ ̶̧̗̝̖̮͓̊̾̕ģ̸̱̭̩̾̃̀̒͘͜e̸̡̗͗t̶̞̘͎̾̿̓̎ ̶͓̈̔̔͗͜͝f̷̥̻̲̓̾̈̌̒̚r̶̹̻̲̹̱̆̆̀̉ȏ̴̩̥̮̠̫́̾̾̐ͅm̷̛͐͑͐̚͜͝ ̶̧̥̮̬̰̜̈́́̚t̴͔̭̯͍͎̣̂̿͝͝h̵̩͉͇̓̄̓͘a̶͉̮͛͆̓̈̊̚t̴̝͓̩̑́̅̚͜ ̴̩̮̜̊̽̉̈́ȍ̷̧̥̤̼͙̅̑̆̍ͅl̶̡͍̞̱͙̻̎̓̾̽̚d̴̩̞̂̀̃̽̈́ ̶̹̂̌͋c̸̨͍͎͕̀̂̎ớ̶̠̪͜r̴̜͙̳̒v̵̛̞̭̗̗̳̀́̿̀̽í̵̫d̵̻̲̔͛̈́͗̚?̵̻̥̬͉̦̣͊͋̃͠͠ Ẃ̵̱̟͕̻̈́ͅi̴̡̿͠t̴̲̆ͅh̴̯̰̉̀̾͝ ̴͔̭̳̄͒͑b̶̼̗̝̽̂͝ḷ̴͇͚͈̪̍a̸̬̳̠͉̾m̶̦̦͙͐͌̒͂e̷̪̬̮̮̼̒̿͐̈́ͅş̴̺͓̙̺̘̉͂̐̔ ̸̨̟̬̹̥̒̓̽̒̒͛͜a̷̺͚̟̒̎n̸͕̬̖͛̓̒͊d̸̡̨͎͖̣͈̽ ̴͕̟̈̌̓a̶̪̥̒̄c̵̨͎̺̬͒̆̉c̸̺̯̙͉̋ͅu̶̹͖̟̬̯̎͗̾͗͌͝s̶̜̗͗̊̋á̸̠͎̹̥͉͚͊͋̅͝͝t̵̢͓͈̙̥̫̊̔̅ỉ̵̤͕͓̈́̈́o̴͍̯̼̞̤̅̒̾͘ņ̵͕̞͉̩̽̈́̚ ̵̦̎͝͝t̷̥̱̟̓ḩ̷̥͍͓̅͑͒͠e̸̙͂̓̽̚͘ ̸̮̥̩͓͓̣̀̊͐̃͂̚v̷͙̣́̀̆̑̈e̷̠̪͎̱̋͌̓̊͠ŗ̸̹̙̥̥̤̀́̂͋̈́͝y̵̨̺͈̟̝͉͊̊ ̷̬̃͝m̸̗͔͛͌̕ỏ̶͎͖̪͈̏m̵͈̱̿͛̇̉̄̽ẽ̷̢̱̇̕͝n̷͙̳̎̃͂͠t̸̛͍̻̅̀ ̴̰̮̂̐t̷͎̳̥̬͓̒̿̀̕ͅh̶̡̡͉̿̓̽̉í̸̧̨̞̲̜̼̅n̶̺̖̭̣̾͛g̷͔̥̤͗͆̐͝s̵͇͖͚̱̯͓̀͛̃̿͌ ̶̙̃ĝ̵͍̦͙͚o̶͇͛͛ ̵͕͛̓̔w̵̡̞͈͕̎͐̾͒̓r̴̨̡͈̜̈̋̂ō̴̫͖̰̻̫̪̋n̶͚̹͒͊̋́̾g̶͕̎͗̈́͂̕ ̷̫̓͗͊̽e̷̘̟̥͎̓́̅̈́̚v̶̡̦̀͌ę̴̰̻͙̊̐̾̄̾͠n̷̦͍̩̗̻̐͋͐̕͘ͅ ̸͈͎̠̠̯̞̀̃̏͠͝í̴͔̥͈̰̿̌̕͠͝f̷͍͖͗̈́̅̈́̅͘ ̸̇ͅȳ̷̼̤̹͕̬̆̇̍ơ̵̝͐̃̑̔͜u̴̞̖̘̟͒̈́̅̋͋͗ ̸̘̪̟̤͊̾̋͑̚͝ͅh̵̙͉͈̲̮̉͗̄̕ḁ̶͉͔̇v̵̜̥̰̳̈́̉ẹ̷̱̲̱̘̾ ̵̳͂̅̒͝n̵͓̉̋̓͝ͅȯ̵̹͓̳͒̀̐̕ ̴̎͐̒ͅh̸̡̝̹̜̜͚̓͌͑͠ȁ̵͍̜͍̖̭͙͛̏̀ṋ̶͈͌͋͊͌̎d̵̰̲̕ ̴̩͔̟̮̩͌̄̿͐̊́i̸̝͖͚͌ņ̶̛̟̫͈͍̦͐̀͐͝ ̷̨̧͈̪͕͉͗̌̈́͒̈́͠ṱ̸͈̽̉̅̽̾ḧ̵̦̖̥̹̬͕́̃̔͒̕̕ȩ̷̯̝̪̟͕͆̀̐̄̚ ̴̺̈́m̷̟̩͝ä̶̡͙͈̺̱͛̎͘t̵̘̙͚͍̖͛͆̈́̄̈́̚t̸͈̣́̇̓ĕ̸̤̬̖̻͚̠̊̀̐r̴̞̦̿́̾͌̉̕?̸̟͚͕̜̣͌̈́͂̚͘͠]

Now that...that wasn't fair. Not everyone around there was like that! What of the children he had helped during his stay in this strange phantasmagorical world. Of the lives he had managed to twist for the better?

What of the group of boys who through their many shared trials and tribulations he had (perhaps a bit one-sidedly) come to regard as his own. The kids who had went out of their way just to include him and were waiting for him to come downstairs so they could finally start their impromptu party.

[A̴̼͜͝n̷̦̽́d̴̻̀ ̸̮̠̿̚w̵̡̝̑h̸̫̞͑à̸̹̒t̶̞̞͝ ̸̡̮͆o̶̫̔f̸̯̈̓ͅ ̷̘̊́t̶͎̪̓̉h̶̟͆̏ĕ̶̗̜͒ ̴͚͒o̸̮͈͝t̶͍́ĥ̵͈ĕ̵̡͉̂r̵̭̺̄s̶̛̝?̷͇̻̐̄ F̸̭̈́ơ̴̳ṙ̸̞̟̕ ̴̡͌̕e̵̲͚̿v̷̯̉ḛ̵̰̍̈́r̵͕͈̈́ÿ̸͓́ ̴̼͔̽̈́ğ̶͉́o̸͎͕̐ḽ̸̲͐d̴̜̳̃e̷̺̳͆͝n̶̝͈͆͘ ̴͍̈́̉k̷͈̆̀e̷̢̻͠r̷̮̈́n̷̳̫̄̽ȇ̴͈̺l̸̥̯̀ ̷̮̻͒̕o̷͉̦̓f̴̧͓̊̇ ̶̛̰ẃ̶͇͝ẖ̶́̄è̶̢̥̀ä̴̘̥́͆t̵̳͘ ̷͕͖̽t̸̤͘̚h̴̤̽͠ã̵̺̀t̶̡̙̽ ̶͍̜̏̀é̵̠x̸͚̳̓i̶̩̱̍͛s̷͎̯̀̉ţ̶̲̃ ̸̡̻̀̏a̶̛͍̮͛ ̸̮̄́d̶̮̑͋ơ̸̙z̷͚̑ͅe̵̬̯̚ñ̴͎̙ ̸͕̀r̴͇̎̐a̵͎̕͠t̸̢̲͠s̷͓̼̊̚ ̸̤̙̃l̸̖̘͛a̸̺͓̓͋y̷̲͍̋ ̴̺̓ĭ̵̢̢͂ṋ̵̦͑ ̴̤͛̿w̴̖͗͆͜a̴͐͐ͅi̷͖͇͑͑t̵͙̫͗̅ ̸̥͕̃t̴̬̔́ò̷̦̺̎ ̸͎̓ḟ̷͜e̶̝͛a̸̠̓s̸̛̼͘ͅt̵̜͋̚ͅ ̸͎͈̀̈ơ̴̭̕n̵͉̾͘ ̶̣̦̐̕ṭ̶̂h̴̯͉́̄ẹ̸̳̓ ̴̫̱̄g̶̛̗̟͝ŗ̶͛a̶͎͛̏i̸̯͑͗n̷̲̜̊.̸͕͇̐. Ņ̸̛̪͎̥̞̦̲̄̃̓̃̑̀͐̍̀͗̅͛̿͘͠e̶̛̥̞̗͖̭̲͙̭̱̝͋̒͒͗̓̑̓̇́̉͐͒͑͝ë̴̢̥͕̹̺̪̓̀͊̿̈̚̕ͅd̸̜̲̪͖͖̲͉̺͌͊̓͗́̉̂̕ ̵̢̢̛͉͔̂̈́̇́͒̅̿̓͗̈̃͒Ȉ̵̭̫͔͗̉̚ ̸̨̯͖͕̜̭̭̪̟̍͒̆̃̋̓̏͛̇̐̈̌͆̑͠r̴̢̫̟̣̩̜͔̠͕̺̘͋͛̊͂͑͜e̸̡̛̱̯͍̣̬̥͎̤̬͆͌̌̾̍̓̅͒͗͘͜͜m̴͉̠̯̮͓̪͖̻͎̫͕̼̍̽͊̾̿́̀̉̎̂̕͝͠͠į̸͕͖̬̼͙͉͇͍̲̯̖̱̅̈́͛̓̌́̾̅̑̈͐͒͘͠n̷̛̖̝̞͎̤̲̼̫͛̈́͛̑̈d̴͕͖͎̠̦̹̭͚̭̒̓͌͊̃̿͜ͅ ̸͉̼̗̦̣͉̝͚̰̠͚̝̥̙̋͊́̂̌̾͐̃̎̿̀̽̚͜ȳ̵̡̨̨̛̟̞̫͖̣̞̦̺̫̫͚̔̂̀̅̅͂̽̑̒͋́̄͂̈ơ̴̧͇̳̻̬̝̰͉̪̙̠̳̇́̐͒́̔̑́̅̂̈́̄̆̔̕ͅü̸͇͗̂̾̊̈́̅̓̓̌̑͂̓͋͘ ̸̧̱͕̗͎̜̩̐̿̒̍́͊̈́̌͒ő̷̧͈̭̻̦̗̞̰͕̺͗̽̌̈́͊̔̀̈́̈̃̚͜ͅf̷͍̦̘̓ ̷̧̥̜̗̱̏̃̀̓j̷̯̣͚̠̞̬̠̫̖̘̮͊̋̿̒̽͒̓́͂͒͌̚̚͝û̷̢̙̳͇͎̩̲̰̤͔̞͖̩̫̈́́͜ͅͅş̵̻̺͖̮̻̑̓̍̉̐̿̀̔͂̈́̌̿͒͘̚͘͠t̴̯̞̜͉̬̰̿̊͛̒̎̈͋́̒͜ ̴̗̩̥͒̿͆̍̌̇̌͝͝t̵̰͔͈̿̽͋̔͒̆͒̔͘̕͠ĥ̶̛̩͉̜̹̦͉̮̄́͑̈́̐͂̓͒̔͠i̸̺͙͕̍̅̽͂̓̆̌͠ş̸̛̣̦͕̞̭̖̦̰̪͎̱̝̀̀͊̔̎͒̈́̍̽̂͋̈́̚ ̷͊͊͌͝��̡̖̠̭̬̦͍̞̉̽̅̑́ͅm̴̢̞͙̠̰̼͇̰̑̃̽̀ơ̵̠͇͔̗͓̣̖̑́̎̿̈́̓̽͂͐̑̓̕̕r̸̛͎̺̱͇̺͈̮̳̺̟̥̙̯̙̭̪̾̓̆͛́͊͐̾ń̶̨͇̩̗̪̯̫͇͚̲̼̦͚͗͂̆͐͆̋̃̅̔̒̈́̏͌͝ḯ̶̞̍̓͌̎̚n̵̛͔̟̝̎̍̌͑̈̍̑̽́͆͑̚͠g̵̨̗̦͍͇̫̫̬̲̘̪̤͉̣̳̼͒̾̾̎͒̔̑̈́͒̀͗̈́̇̀̀͘͜͝?̸̛̩̻̓̾̍͐͛͗̇͊̎͒͛͠ Ơ̷̼̟̏̓f̵̪̋ ̶̗̙̒t̴̗̱̬̀̄͑h̷̢̥͐e̶͈̓ ̷̦͌͗̓ã̵̼̮̀͒ṫ̶͇t̵̹̹̣̒͛̚ḙ̵͈̾̔̀m̸̨̡̛̞̀p̵͍͂ţ̷̱͛͑̄s̴̡͔̜̓̃ ̵̛̹̄͝t̵̹̫̓͂o̶̺̔͊ ̵̗͖̾̏̈́e̴̮͕̪̓̈́̕x̷̻̻̊́e̴̙͊̎r̶̡̡̈́̈́̕ţ̸͚̳̃ ̵͙̽̄͐t̶̻̪͛̈́͗ḧ̵̫̗́̑̿e̵̯̞͂̆̈́ỉ̶͈̅ͅȓ̵̛̤̺̙͝ ̸̢̒̾͝p̵̞̬̽ē̶̻r̴̘̀͛͜c̸̩̠̑̉̄e̶̞͉͌̅î̶̺̠͖͑v̵̗͙̰̋̑e̶͉̺̒̓͊d̷̳͝ ̶̛͔́̍s̶͍̣̃u̵͓̥͔͂͘p̵̧͠ẻ̴͖͉̤r̸̠̓i̷͖̱͑o̴̘͌̋͘ṟ̷̱͋ȉ̷̧̩̻͋̿t̸̬́͐ͅỳ̴̘͜ ̴̦̯̽͑o̶̢͉͇͒̏v̷̝̳̎ę̶̈́ŗ̴͒̈́̏ ̶̢͙̾̊s̷̠͐ö̸͉̕m̵͚̌̋͗͜é̷̖̐̒ō̷̮̤̒́n̷̬̼̍͌ȩ̸̏̄ ̵͓̉w̵̡̲̌͝ḧ̵͚̃͌ô̴̜͕̘ ̶̡̣̖͂͛t̶͖͆͠h̷͇̗͍͆̏͗ę̸̂͗y̵̳̼̓͊͌ ̶̜̻̌d̴̬̫̿̽̍ȇ̴̻̞̳͛̕e̴̝̦͖͑m̵̻̌ ̸̥̬̔͛̎'̷̜̍͐̓ǫ̶͔̲̈̿t̸̢̀h̸̻̬͕̃e̵̝̽̆r̷̲̰͒̌'̶̫̥̗̓͌͘ ̴̫͔̂̓t̸͚̐͑͌h̵̜̗͖̉́á̶͔̜͙t̷̙̉͋ ̷͇̓v̴̼̼̓̕e̷̟͓̽͛͌r̷͕̻̈̔̊ý̶̺̯̙͠ ̵̲͖̫́͂ẇ̶̳͕͒e̴͗̎̄͜͜͜l̶̖̀̈́͝l̴̾̎̆͜ ̵̬̥̙̐́̋c̶̛̦̣͝ó̷̥ͅǘ̷̫̜l̵̛̟̈d̶̮̗͊͒ ̴̥͔̝̆͑̈́h̵̰͐a̶̲͈̳̓̏ṿ̵̎e̶̛̺̾ ̶̻̙͔͋́̅c̸̭̖̞͒̇ȯ̸̞̼͕̂͠s̵̟̍t̶̥̒̈́̒ ̸̬̕y̴͉͍̍̋̉o̵̬͚̳̓́u̸̞̽̉ ̴̺̋̏y̵̗͊̇ȯ̶̧̬̺̓u̴̟̣̓́̽r̴̼̰͈̀̈́ ̴̋͛͝ͅĺ̵̤͓ǐ̵̦̖f̸͙̊̉̑ę̷͓͙́̓.̵̛͚̰̗͊̓ Å̷̯̗n̵͈̱̍ḋ̸̤̙ ̷̘͌̅t̵͕͙̿h̷̙̭͂e̵̥̒̚ ̵͈̔͐͜t̵̢̹̊͘h̷̟̒i̸͖̐n̷̦̾g̴̢̣͆̑ ̵̼͝i̶̤̕ś̶̬͕,̵͙͒̀ ̵͙͐t̵̪͑ḣ̵̡i̸͚͂̄s̷̟̹̈́̉ ̴̻̓̌į̸͐̈́ş̸̛̬̔ṅ̴̼'̶͉̜͠t̴̙̱̃̿ ̸̨̄̄e̷̢̞͐͂v̵͓͝e̷̩̊ń̸̛̘̭ ̷̠̄t̵̨͆h̷̹̾̆e̴̘̺͊ ̴̱̒f̶̯͙͝ȉ̴̙̊r̸̪̞̂͝s̴̩̈́t̸̘͍͐͠ ̶͎̰̏t̷̹͔͘ị̷̐͝m̷͓̽͝e̴͎͒͝ ̵̉��͍s̴͚͍̅̈́ó̸̲m̴̙͘e̶̥̪͊ṯ̶̢̓̃ẖ̵̉ī̴̞͕͆n̸͇̈g̴̛̺ ̴͙̎̈́ĺ̸͕í̶��͎ͅķ̴̏͜e̸̮̒ ̴͈̓̋h̴̭̯͛̇i̵͍̎̂s̶̪̱͌ ̷̜̊͑ẖ̶̈́a̵̢̓s̴̡̔ ̴̣̒h̶̞̦̊̈́a̴͔͓̎̐p̸̘̙̑͐p̴͚͠e̶̺̮̚n̸͇̅ȩ̶̛̟͒d̴̏̕͜ ̶̹̀̓t̶̰̓̈o̴̘͋ ̷̫̤̀͠ÿ̷̺̆͜ö̴̰̜̀ú̵̲̉ ̶̮̑͆i̸̓̆͜s̶̻̀ͅ ̴͉͋ì̸̯͕t̸͍͘?̷̣̎]

He twitched.

[Y̵͚͐o̵̢̳̐̕u̶̪̮̒ ̷̜̼̊͒d̸͖̥̎̒o̸͉̺͐́ ̸̟͑n̷͉̐ỏ̷͖̬ṯ̵̤̽h̷̪̉̈i̶̢͙̊͝n̴̬̼͗g̴͔̃͝ ̶͙̟̃t̸̞̑̕o̸̙͂̓ ̶̩̌́s̷̖̆t̴̫͎̓ò̷̡p̴̭͆̚ ̴̗͘i̷̹͙̓̍t̴̜́ ̴̫̕ě̷̥v̶͎̾́ͅe̵̹͒n̷̠͈̎̑ ̷̨̓t̵͚͘h̴̻̽ọ̸͐͠ṷ̷̈́͊ͅg̶̫̋h̸̠̜͗̉ ̵̩̥̌̽i̷̪͊͠ţ̴̛̑'̵̳͗͛š̴͍ ̷̲̈́̃f̴̭͛̃u̷̲͗̐l̷̰̯̈́l̷͔̏y̵̪̩̒̍ ̴̭̄i̸̬̬̊͛n̷̛̗ ̶̗͆̈y̶͚͛ǫ̶̖͂̓u̴̧͗̄r̶͔̉͗ ̴̗̰̈́p̵̱͛ō̷̭͋ͅw̸̞̾̋e̷̞͋̂r̸̳̃̆ ̷̪͝t̶͕̝̓ǒ̸̰ ̶̲͊d̸̟̤̏͠ǒ̴̭̝͋ ̴̱͔̽s̴̱͛͋ó̷̡̳.̴͍͋̀ ̴̟̃̕Ỹ̶̪̭ȯ̸̭u̶̗͈͂ ̷̫́͜w̷̖̿̈́h̷͎̤̀ő̶̢ ̵̹͍͒͝h̵̢̢̑̅a̷̭͂̇s̵̛̜̜̉ ̶̰̰͆f̵̧̄ͅa̸̲̙̔c̷̣̀͠e̸̱̍̽d̴̞̏̈́ ̵͔͎̎ȟ̴̻o̶̢̎r̴̩̬̂r̴̥̱̒õ̴̯͉r̴͚̙͋̎s̵̨̛̳̀ ̸̻̐̒͜l̸̙̑̈́i̴̛̱t̸̡̏͛e̸̮̹͆̚r̷͍̐͒ä̴̯̰́̓l̵̝̚ ̸͕̈́w̷̻͗̍ơ̴͉̍r̷͎͠l̵̯̕d̸̖̬͌s̵͙͊ ̷͓̟̈́à̶̬w̸̧͕͋̈́á̷̤y̶̖̋ ̵̪͇͆t̶̻̏h̸̝̲̅̎a̴̯̯̐t̵̥̎̚͜ ̶̡̭͑t̵̫̓h̸̖̩̅e̴̤͠s̵̬̙̉̄e̷̯̙̽ ̴̝́͛w̴͕̳͘é̶̯̦a̸̛͚̖͆k̴̤͕͛-̷̪̓w̶͎̋̆ͅi̷̻̒͂l̷̫̈͊l̸̮̎̋è̷̗͝d̵̦͉̎̅ ̷̯͌y̴̲̔ō̸͈͇̚ṵ̶̝̓t̸̫͛ȟ̸̗̪͒ş̴̽͘ ̵͎̿̆w̸̛̩̐h̷̬̀ò̸̩̒ ̵̹͑y̷̦̌o̵͑ͅṵ̴̞̉͛ ̴̼̮̆̔s̴̲͋̎ǒ̵͕̩ ̵͓̻̈͌f̴̖̟̍ó̴͚͝ͅn̸̻̄͋ͅd̵̨̤̈́̕l̶̘̕͜͝y̶̰̍ ̶̱̀̉s̵̡̑͛ṵ̴̱̚r̴̻̬͗r̴̝͊̚o̵̖̜͂ų̴͈̓̕ņ̵͐͝d̴̬̪̎ ̶̤̍̊y̷̲̒ö̸̪̫ů̶̙͖r̵̗̐̋s̷̒̀͜ẻ̸̢̡̇ľ̷̥̼̿f̷̣̌ ̵͎͑̂ẅ̵͓͚́̎i̴̜̫͐t̴̖̾͘h̵͍̤̋̄ ̵̡͈̏c̷͓͊͆o̵̖͆̋u̵̘͆̚l̶͎͆d̸͈̜̑̈n̸̻̟̊'̴̛͙t̸͇̔ ̵̳̃̍ṗ̵̰̕ơ̴̦̩̋s̷̻̑s̵̢̠͐̇i̴͔̊b̵͈̐l̷̪̿y̷͕̿̊ ̷͙͛̈́ḓ̵͊̕ả̵͔́ͅṛ̶̼̽e̸̦͑̾ ̵̪̊̅h̴͐��̧o̸̪̰̅͝p̷͉̀ė̸͖ ̴̢̢̀̋t̷̹̔̾o̴̼͎͊̀ ̶̞͗͆c̷̡̱̔̈́o̸̫͒n̷̥̆c̴̜̿͘͜e̴͖͚͋͝ȉ̸̡v̸̦̠̎ę̷̽.̷̳̎̚ ̵̲̈Y̵͕͋̓õ̸͈̆ū̷̜̙̕ ̸̜̫̆w̵̺̍͑͜h̶̯̉o̸͗͜ ̵͙͌͆h̶͖͂a̶̟̖̚s̷̥̠̆ ̷̛̖̈w̸̝̾̇a̵̱̟͂͘t̴̹̤̀c̴̗̉ḧ̶͔́e̶̤̎d̶̡̟͊ ̶̗͂ͅṭ̶̇̈́i̴͈̓m̶̙̰̈e̸̤̚ ̸̧̦͝ȧ̸̢n̴̦̜̎d̷̩͊ ̵̧̻̌ẗ̷̮͖́̎į̶͚̊͌m̷͚̓e̴̦͆ ̷͔̅͘ą̵̥̈́̑g̴̣̺̏a̸̛̘͚̔i̷͔̓ṉ̶̢͘ ̶̧̥̋̈́a̸̤͍͘s̴̪̻̅ ̷̖̾̕ý̸̩͝ͅỏ̶͎ȗ̷͔̀͜r̴͉͚̈́ ̵̻̑͐b̶̓ͅŗ̸̠̕o̴̪̐t̵̤͋͛h̴̗̉̐è̸̠͇́r̴̥̱͝s̷͍̓ͅ-̴̭͙̓͌ï̵̠n̷̜͊-̵̩̌̒͜á̸͎̠ṙ̷͔͚m̶̛͚ṧ̵̡̬ ̵̳͖̿̓h̸̝̬̄͝a̵̡͛d̷̦̠̆̍ ̵̱͙̎͝f̸͓̑i̴̢̎̄n̵̤̔a̶͕̽͜l̴̗̒̋l̶̝͍͠y̴͖̰̾ ̶̼̈́͐f̴̛̞̞̿ȇ̶̢̈l̷̲̔͌l̷͚̎ ̸̛̝v̸̮̅i̴͖̊c̶̀͘ͅt̶͇͊i̴̹̚ͅm̸̼̮̚ ̸̗̻̀ṯ̷̫̈o̴̗̒ ̶͙͑͑t̵̮͂h̴̗̺̎e̶͔̅̓ ̶̠͆̔ͅd̵̡̗̈́a̵̹͓̎r̵̡̪̈́̌k̷̗̕ǹ̶̞͗e̸̢͔̽̀s̵͉͌́s̷͍͑ ̷̡͈̇̓i̵̱͉͒̐n̸̗̕ ̷̛̥̇t̶̡̙̆h̸̩͎̉ë̵͓̭́̑ḯ̶̝͈r̵̳̀̀ ̷̜̈h̸̫̄͝ę̵͆̄a̸̪̿̊r̸̢̞̊t̶̝̟͛̋ṣ̷̄̄ ̶͇̟͛a̶̬͒ṅ̸̠̞̿d̴̥̈́̎ ̴̜̅͝l̴̰̜̋͘e̸̹̩͗̚t̸̡͂͗͜ ̶̨̝͘͠i̵̳̅t̸̤̚ ̷͓̃͛c̷̢̝̽͠o̴͎̬̓ṉ̴͔̽s̶̜͓̃̈u̸̺͘m̴̰͌ě̶̠̯ ̷͚̈́ṯ̷͚̎͋h̴̥͌̿ȇ̵̘̩͘m̴̦̕ ̴̙̻̍̓b̸̤̗̆̕o̶̲̔d̴̼̙̒̕ÿ̷͓͇́ ̴̪̟̔͋a̸̤͗n̸͓̜̐d̷̬̙͂͒ ̵̰͍̊̚s̵̝̀ǫ̶͔̐ů̶̖́l̷̥͆̌ ̷͙̍̃b̴̗͊͜͠e̷͇͋f̴̧͔̋̚ő̵͓̾r̸͍͕͠è̸̹̾ ̵̺̦̒͋d̵̨͙̀é̷̫͍l̶̰͝i̴̻̤̚v̴̳̝͊̏ę̴̱̄̉r̷̞̊͆ͅi̸̝̔ǹ̸̟̺̾g̸͙̒ ̵̰̚̕t̵̨̡̀͆h̵͔͍̆͘e̷̟͎̅m̷̞͕͗ ̵͕̍̀t̶͙͘h̷̡̟͋a̸̻͝͝t̴̹̕ ̴̫͒̈f̶͂ͅỉ̸̹͚n̵̗̳̄̚ä̵̧̦̾l̶̛̗͖͘ ̴̯̪͆̏m̴̼̯̾ë̷͙̕ͅŕ̷̘̦c̸̼̼͒y̴̠̱͑̚ ̶̠̐w̵͈̞̑i̵͈̿̐t̸̠̍h̷̼͍̉͠ ̴̣̣͆́t̴̖̊ḧ̶̺́͘e̶̬̥͋ ̵̭̓̂ş̸̮̔e̷̜̋l̶͉̝̑f̶̰̋̌s̸͔͘ạ̸̌͛m̶̗͂e̷̛̪ ̸̥̇̉a̷̤̔̄ḅ̸͠i̷̢͠l̶̗̔i̸̦̣̎ẗ̵͙͖́͂i̶̲̮̒͒e̴̝̅ŝ̷̭̆ͅ ̷̣̥̔̑d̴̙̤̍͊e̷̡̯͗ȓ̶̤͎į̶͎͗̈́ṽ̴͇͝e̶̫̔d̸͔̀͂ ̴̗̀̀f̸͚͛r̸̤̳̕ơ̶̡̬͊m̵̟̚͝ ̴̣̏t̶̰̆͑h̷̫̀̍ę̸͑͒ ̴͖̩̂̚v̷̾ͅẽ̷͖͜r̵̯̀͋ỹ̶͕ ̷̮͕͛t̴͍̹̀̎h̵̪͚̆͘ĩ̷̡̝ń̶͕g̸̭̩̿ ̶̠̈́͑ͅt̸̜́ḧ̴͚́ä̸́��̭t̶̨͔͌͗ ̸̦̦̒̾l̴̫̰̃e̵̞̾͜a̸̖̓d̶̞̽ ̵̖̍͠t̷̞̍̽h̸̹͍̎̍e̷̠͗ͅm̶͍̦͊ ̸̘͓͌t̵̛͚͚ọ̸̀ ̶̩̎t̷̤͙̏h̵͔̽͊e̷͈͆̈ḭ̸̈́r̷͉͕̋ ̶̞̣̓d̵͖͕̏͗o̷̘͎͗ȍ̸͉m̴͕̅̄.̶̗́ ̴̬̹͗̚N̴̯̮̍ê̵̥v̷̲͔́͋e̴̡͇͠r̴̨͝ ̸͚̘̕͝q̶̧͆̓ǘ̸̺̒i̶̦̋͜t̸̢̻̾̔e̷͋ͅ ̷̧̦͗ḵ̷̓n̶̗̦̈́o̵̲̎̕w̴͍̫̌i̵͖͆͋n̴͎͈̆̇g̵̢̖͊ ̷̠̦̿̚w̸̳͓͛̔ẖ̵̈́̃ẽ̶͓̿n̷̯͐ ̶͙̟̊į̷͑̾t̸͒̇͜ ̶͔͠ẃ̶͕̫o̶͚̞̓̋ủ̴̟̽l̷̦̟̋d̸̟̑ ̵̡̞̉͘b̸̡̿e̶̲̔̐ ̶̖̄y̵͎̏̀ȍ̵̻ủ̵̟͖͛r̴̛͇͔̂ ̵͎̋t̶͎̫͛u̵̩̝͋̈́r̶̡̮̽n̴̗̖̚ ̷̟̀o̵̩̎̋n̵̖̤͂͘ ̴̨̈́t̸̰̅͐ȟ̴͙e̴̖̙͑̓ ̵̯̤̅͠p̷̛͠ͅy̷̘̑̈r̷̮͒ę̶͒ ̸̟̞̓a̵͖͐̾ͅs̸͎̱̓ ̴̪̫̽̅ẗ̸̡̳́h̵͉̏ĕ̷ͅ ̴͓̔̂c̸͇̫͆y̶̺͒c̷̹͊̄l̷̨̳̇̎ẹ̴̻͆͠ ̶͓̾c̷̨̞̅o̶̯͒͝n̷̯̄t̵̞͋̕i̴͍̚n̶̢̿͒u̵̪̪̓ě̴͇̀d̸͍̖͛̚.̴͊]

Okay.

There were a lot of things you could ignore, some things that you simply had to if only to keep the most tenuous of grips on your dubious sanity when one is suddenly thrust into an entirely different world with different policies, different rules of engagement and (potentially) fucking physics.

Sure, should he probably have clued in that something was up the very moment those weird ass visions brought about by the local talking mirror started. Probably. Or when the talking portraits scattered about the college started falling silent whenever he walked past, as if someone stepped on their graves. Sure. Or even when the sleepwalking had him waking up in the dead of night to find himself already staring out at the large glass windows of the dormitory as the rain steadily streamed down the siding.

(Yeah, actually in hindsight the sleepwalking was kind of a big red flag.)

And like, logically, he knew what he was doing was probably just setting himself up for failure. But coming from world where malevolent entities that fed off expressed negativity could and would latch onto any form of perceived weakness to turn it against you, that lead to some admittedly terrible coping mechanisms to deal with the crazy shit you saw.

(The fact that most of the planet didn't even fucking believe in said entities because of the vigorous propaganda campaigns brought about by numerous long-standing institutions didn't help much either. Thank you so much for that by the way. Way to made the job of cleaning up after these 'make believe ghosts' who could and regularly did wrack up a not-insignificant body count so much easier. Not. Also magic was fucking weird okay and he was working with severe chronic sleep deprivation and probably some form of shellshock so sue him for being little slow on the uptake.)

[Ă̶̗n̶̨̊ḓ̶̾ ̴̬̄y̷̰̚e̴͎͒t̶̥̐ ̶͇̊y̴̛̤ȏ̴̥u̵̗͛ ̵͖̒s̵̫̆ẗ̸͖́i̴̛̭ĺ̸̙l̵̛̼ ̶͉͋f̶̛͕ò̷̯ū̶̞g̷̳̊h̴̢͝t̶̎ͅ ̸̰̀f̵͈͊o̶̫͆r̸̤͗ ̷͉͂t̵͖͠ḧ̸̤ẽ̴͚m̷̿͜ ̷̮̏d̷̤̐e̸̼̎s̴̳̋p̷̩̄i̶͕̔t̴̳̓e̴͜͝ ̶͎̆k̶͙͊n̷̦̿ơ̸̻w̸͊ͅi̸̅͜n̴̬͝g̴̺̓ ̸̣̽t̵̠́h̷̍ͅa̷̫͠ẗ̸̯́ ̷͉̓ë̵̩́v̵̥͂e̸̘͌r̴̳̍y̷̘̾ṭ̶̍h̴̪̽ì̷̢n̷̦̓g̵̤̑ ̴͈̇y̵̪̾ó̶̠u̷̻̕ ̵̢̈d̶͕͊i̷̲͋d̸̪̀ ̴͈̅ǎ̷̭n̷͕̆ḓ̵́ ̴̭̊e̸̙̒v̷̭̏e̶̟̽r̴̳̈́ÿ̷̧́ť̴̯h̶̞̉ï̵̧n̴͚̏ǵ̶̳ ̸͉͝y̶̝̾ö̴̘́ų̸̆ ̵͖̿g̸̪͌a̶͉͂v̴͙͋e̴͈̎ ̷͉͘w̵̢̐o̸͖͋ù̵͚l̴͔͐d̴̖̾ ̷̪̚à̸̢m̸̠̌o̷͚͒u̴̔ͅn̵͔̒ẗ̴̜ ̸͈̆t̵̝̐o̴̺͐ ̴͊͜n̴͍͝ó̴̤t̶͇̓ĥ̴ͅi̴̬̓ṇ̶͐g̶̺͌ ̷͚͂i̷̧͗ǹ̴̜ ̴̩̓t̶̢́ĥ̸̡e̴͓͠ ̶̜̀ḙ̶̊ṋ̴̛d̴̡̆.̷̢̅ ̸͇͑Ť̵̠h̸̤͐à̴̖ṱ̵͝ ̸̫̉h̵̘̒u̴͖̍m̴̪̆a̴͈͛n̸̜͛s̸̻̒ ̶̛̜w̷͌ͅo̶̘͠u̵̺͠l̶̎͜ḏ̷̿ ̶̹̉ë̸͉́v̷͕̉ë̵̙́n̵̢͛ṭ̷̃u̷̡͑ǎ̴͇ḷ̷͂l̵̤̚y̴̙͒ ̷̟̇j̴͓͊ụ̷͋ŝ̶̯t̷̬̆ ̶̼̾b̴̰̋e̸̲͝ ̶̰̿ċ̴͎ơ̵̥n̵̤̔s̷̛͉u̵̦̾m̷͎̄é̸̻d̵͈̿ ̵̗̈́b̷͓͠y̸̜͒ ̵̣̌ṯ̶̆h̶͝ͅe̸͉̓i̷̮̐r̴̐ͅ ̸̨́ṇ̷̌e̷͈͘g̶̖̏a̴̋ͅt̷̢͐i̵͎̓v̸̲̀i̴̽ͅt̷͔̋y̴̐͜ ̶̢͘a̵̤̕n̸̠͆d̷̪̓ ̴̰͘t̴̞̓ḫ̴͗a̷̛̱t̴͚̎ ̸͖͆y̴̯͛ỏ̴̲u̷̩͆ ̶̣̑ẅ̸͖́e̴̜͋r̸̲̽ḙ̶̈ ̶̨̕ṕ̴͓ă̴͚t̸͈͑c̷̪̃h̶͔͗i̴̥͊n̸̖̄g̴̟̈́ ̶̧̂u̶̝̍p̷̼͑ ̸͖̑ḁ̴͋ ̸̲̄ș̸͠ḣ̷̫ȋ̵͖p̴̟͊ ̴͕͛t̵͈͂h̷̯̔a̶͉͗t̴͖͂ ̵̟̐h̸̋͜ạ̵̉d̶̦͘ ̴̞̓l̸̳͋o̸̘͊n̷̼͆g̷̺͋ ̷͈̾s̴̞̄i̷̯̾n̸̢̄c̵̺̃e̶͚͌ ̴̝̿s̶̛̟ȃ̵̰n̴̂͜k̸̟̏.̴̠͋ B̶͔̕e̸͖͑c̶͍̅a̴͖̐ǔ̷̱s̸̗̎e̶̡̊ ̷͈̈́t̵̤͆ò̴̻ ̵̛̹y̷̲̅o̶̰̍u̵͈̓ ̷̗̓t̶̯̀h̸̼̅ả̵͕t̵̹̎'̸̧̂s̴��̩ ̶͎̔j̸̻̀u̷̞̇s̶̖͌t̸͕̃ ̸͔̋ḫ̷̃ơ̵̬w̵̨͝ ̶̘̆ẗ̵̨́h̴̬̔i̵̲͆n̷̄͜gs̶̜̈́ ̶͙̈́w̸̩̔o̶͈͒r̸̗̍k̴͎̍ẽ̶̳d̶͖͠,̷̼̇ ̵̩̇ŵ̸̟a̸̯͝s̷̞̀n̶̤͒'̶͓̊t̴͉̎ ̵̢͑ǐ̴̗t̷͔͗?̵̖͌ ̴̛̘D̶͕̓è̸̜ḙ̶͛p̸̻̈́ ̵̳̽d̸͕̏ơ̵̹w̴̬͂ǹ̷̻ ̴̟̋i̶͚͐n̶̘̒ ̵̰͒t̷͐͜h̸̻̋e̶̩̎ ̶̦̔d̴̝͐à̵̧r̷̬͂ḱ̷̢n̶̚͜ḙ̸̍s̵̢͑s̴͚͠ ̵̖̑o̷̲͊f̵͕̈́ ̵̭͘y̶͓̐o̴̱̔ú̷̞r̵̫̈́ ̷̗͐ò̵̹w̶̤͂n̸͙̏ ̴͙̐s̸̥̀o̸̓͜u̵͔͌l̷͙̈́ ̵̜̈́y̸̫͝o̴͛͜ȕ̵͉ ̴̮͝t̴̖͆r̷̗͝ȗ̵̡l̶̠̓y̵͔̓ ̸̗́ḇ̸̈ẹ̸́l̸̗̏ḯ̶̮é̶͚ṽ̴̜ḛ̷̈d̶̘̀ ̶̺̅t̷͓̑ḧ̵̩a̶͚͂t̵͚͂'̷͍̃s̶̗̽ ̷̤͋j̴̄ͅu̷̪̍s̴̹͗t̶̀͜ ̸̤̓h̷͕̏o̶̩̚w̵̻̃ ̶̧̄h̴̻̚u̷̘͒m̷̟̒ä̶͎n̵̟͗i̶̟͊t̶͚͘y̴̰̓ ̸̩̐w̸̥̆ȧ̵͚s̶͚̒.̴̨̿ I̵ ̸s̸ ̷n̵ ̴'̴ ̵t̶ ̶i̸ ̷t̸ ̸?̸]

The air in his lungs caught. A pale hand came up to clutch at the fabric of his ill-fitting vest. He couldn't breathe. Turns out there are somethings you just can't ignore. Not when the devil himself was finally knocking at your door. Slowly, he t u r n e d a r o u n d .

[B̶̡̒u̸̦͝t̵̲̂ ̷͚̒t̵̢̐ẖ̷̄e̵̱͗ ̸̱͒m̵̗͘o̷̠͘s̸̫̋t̵͕̉ ̸̱̄d̷͕̏a̶̠͛m̷̪̅n̵͎̔i̷̥͌n̵͖̿g̶̭͗ ̶̲̅t̸͕͝h̷͔̔ỉ̶͖n̷̳̓g̶̱̀?̶̟͐]

Only to catch a glimpse of his figure reflected in the cracked mirror carelessly propped up against the opposite wall. He watched with a mounting horror as the figure contained within moved independently of his own form, the monster clad in his reflection having finally gained enough negative energy to properly manifest, twisted to face him as it spoke.

[H̴o̶w̷ ̵c̶a̴n̷ ̵y̸o̶u̶ ̸b̷e̵ ̷s̷u̶r̴e̵ ̵t̴h̶a̶t̸ ̸y̶o̶u̷ ̵a̶r̴e̸ ̸t̴h̶e̴ ̷o̸n̷e̶ ̵i̷n̷ ̶c̶o̴n̸t̵r̵o̷l̵?̸]

It's red eyes crinkled in malevolent glee as pale lips curled up into a fanged s m i l e...

[Sorry -��̸̶̴̵̸̵̶̸̵̵̵̸̸̴̻͖͚͍͛̈́͗̂̀̉͋̚-̴̸̸̸̴̴̴̷̴̷̷̸̷̛̳͍̬̗̣͊̂͊͠-̶̴̶̶̶̶̸̵̴̶̸̸̵̴̴̷̸̸̵̸̸̡̛̗̙͙̹͓̘̗̹̈́̄͐̒̂̈́̽̕-̷̸̷̵̵̴̵̸̸̸̶̶̴̵̴̷̵̢̟̫̥̠͗̄̍̾̑̄̕͘͠-̵̷̴̸̵̸̸̶͈̦͉̻̀-̴̴̸̸̸̸̴̷̶̶̶̶̷̶̸̸̶̶̵̴̨͙̣͕̮͈̘̔̑̏̍̑̎̌̐̚͠-̶̷̵̶̶̶̴̴̸̴̴̸̶̜̥́̔̔͌̀͑͆͘ but it's my turn now.]

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

{Crash!}

"Damn it Floyd, be careful with those pans. We're on a time crunch and we can't afford any screw ups."

"Yeah, sorry." He rubbed his head, "Ah hey, isn't that Mr. Shrimpy?"

"What?" Jade's head perked up as he went to join his brother at the kitchen window. They watched as the pale haired man mechanically tried —then succeeded– in picking himself up off the grass. Looming much like his namesake, his hunched figure loomed over a pile of glittering something scattered about just out of sight as he clutched his arm tightly to his chest. However, he suddenly stiffened as if sensing the sets of eyes upon him. Slowly he rose and twisted to face the merfolk twins staring curiously out the open window at the strange new show.

"..."

"...?"

"..." He turned, blank-faced and briskly walked away.

The two brothers turned to face one another then back to the window, each with a curious tilt of the head.

"Weird."

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Having gotten a significant distance away from the dorm and those contained within he stopped, hunched over as he gasped for air. Bit by bit his breathing leveled out but the raging riptide of feelings within given rise by the rampaging Phantom in his soul remained.

Through clenched teeth, a wordless sound escaped him as he desperately struggled to hold together the demolished fragments of his masked composure as the wraith lashed out at its impromptu jailer. Each tendril of void-like energy sent a wave of ragepainindignationdespairf u r y so potent that made him want to curl up into a ball and wait until the darkness consumed him just so he didn't have to feel it any longer. He breathed out...

"...Fuck."

His body faced the Alchemy Workshop's retention pond, the pain in his left arm a tenuous grounding point as the blood soaked through the thin dress shirt. It had been a wild gamble, stabbing himself with one of his knives but the sheer shock of the action had driven the other back enough to allow for him to make his escape. Sure it had been through window, but it wasn't like it had been the first time today he'd done so.

He grimaced, wincing at surge of sheer inhuman wrath emanating from his passenger. It was taking every single fiber of his being to continue to fight against the black-hole of negativity as to not be overcome but this far in he already knew it was a losing battle.

Grey eyes stared bleakly out at the sunset as it cast rays over the gleaming water.

(He never even got to hang out with the guys at the party and see the eclipse with everyone else. He didn't even get to say goodbye.)

He knew that it was only a matter of time before the Phantom overtook him. True he bought himself a little bit of wiggle-room but he needed to get far away, off Sage Island if possible and away from any populated settlements at the very least, and fast. Before it was too late and he was subsumed entirely under the fathomless entirety of that...monstrosity. (He needed to get away from everyone while he was still himself.)

(It had been a long time but he felt like he wanted to cry.)

"Little imp?" He startled and then the pit in his stomach bottomed out.

Oh no. No. Nonono-

"Damn it, wait up! You're lucky I run track... Huh? Oh hey, Mr. White! What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, hey! Sam...and Jack too! What a surprise!" He replied, his voice pitching up a bit too high. Internally he cursed up a blue streak as he tried to figure out the best way to get the both of them to leave without seeming suspicious.

"I-I was just...ah, getting some air before the...the viewing party? You know? The one Kalim was hosting? At Ramshackle?" He jabbed his thumb back the way he came, ignoring the way his hand subtly shook. (The suspiciously gleeful cackle echoing in the back of his mind was not helping.)

Damn it! Out of all of the people who could have showed up why did it have to be the only one in this god-forsaken school who actually had some inkling about the dangers the spiritual world could possess as well as his relation to the seedy underbelly of it. And to make matters worse, why was one of the students with him?!?

"...Yeah? Is that so?" Sam gave his version of a neutral smile, inoffensive and otherwise the perfect fit of dealing with a difficult customer. As magenta eyes slowly roved up and down his form before finally settling on his chest. Brows furrowed imperceptibly as he cocked his head a bit to the side. "Bit far of a walk, innit?"

His heart dropped to his feet. Shit, he knew that look. That was the look he had whenever his attention had been caught by some particularly intriguing curiosity. And the fact that it was now aimed at him? He already knew something was up.

But still, he was in too deep to stop now.

"Mhm, y-yeah! I can't really stop myself when my legs get moving sometimes." He let out chuckle that sounded hollow even to his ears. "Sometimes, you just have to get up and go. Y'know?" His voice faltered, and he swallowed, trying again. "You have to go..."

It was now that the youngest member of their unconventional trio stepped up into the conversation. "...Uh, hey this is kind of a weird question. And I don't wanna be rude and interrupt...whatever it is that you two have got going on. But, do I smell blood right now?"

"!"

Slowly his arms lowered to dangle limply at his sides. "..." He turned away as the last rays of sun slowly dipped under the horizon. "..." Back to the men, the sinking light cast his form in deep shadow.

"...I forgot. You beastfolk have elevated senses of smell don't you."

A cold wind swept through the area, stirring ripples in the iolite depths. The pale man shuddered, his slight frame shaking like a leaf in a winter's storm and he seem to sway a bit as if about to keel over before he caught himself and straightened with an eerie calm.

"...Mr. White?" Jack moved to place a hand on the shorter man's shoulder.

"Don't touch him!"Jack taken off guard by sudden outburst, jerked his head back to stare at the older man as his hand instinctively clamped down. The body underneath him twitched. With a sharp curse, Sam darted forward as the man turned on them and struck out, nailing the taller boy in the face with a right hook. He yelped and fell back, clutching at his bleeding nose in shock as Sam quickly stepped in to take his spot and a brief struggle ensued.

"Oh seven my nose!" He winced at the pain, almost certain that the offending part was broken. "What is your problem?!" Jack howled, only to receive no response as the two men seemed determined to beat the shit out of one another. White ears pinned back in a snarl. Fine, if that was how they were gonna play it, and joined the fray.

But the older white-haired male fought like a man possessed and refused to give an inch. Tagging the teen with a solid palm strike to the solar plexus, he knocked him away as the other choked and sputtered. He reared back to elbow Sam in the gut but the taller man merely tanked the hit and held on for dear life as they begin to grapple.

It was a fierce fight but the older man was eventually forced to the ground, having been overpowered in his degraded state. But still he continued to thrash and wriggle in their grasp, with a seemingly increasing desperation.

Having no other choice, the two of them pressed their weight onto the prone man. Jack's ears twitched as the other evidentially realized the futility of continued struggle and turned to muttering "Nonono..." With his face pressed into the dirt and splattered with blood and who-knew-what he looked positively unhinged as he stared at the setting sun. "You don't understand."

"Mr. White..." Jack murmured, tail giving a unnerved swish at the usually collected man's behaviour.

"Oh, we understand more than you think buddy." Sam muttered with narrowed eyes as his hand went for the strange green hamsa-type amulet in his apron pocket. "Hold him down for me would ya?"

"O-Oi..." At the other's sharp look he grumbled and did as he was told. Forcing the small man's uninjured arm behind his back with a small grimace.

Grey eyes slipped shut behind cracked lenses as his lips moved in a soft prayer. "Please-" The rest of which was lost to the rush of wind.

"Hm, what was that? A curse, maybe? A request for last rites, perhaps?"

...He t w i t c h e d .

"I said..."

Dark eyes widened a touch too late as he processed the change in the air. "Would you-" He jerked his head to meet the younger boy's confused gaze, mouth poised to warn him but was cut off when the lad was summarily ripped from his perch and tossed aside.

"—just–"

And with a strength that he had no right to possess Sam followed suit, his amulet sent skittering across the grass-

"–let-"

-only to stop at his feet.

He stood a looming shadow over the fallen men. With crimson eyes crescented as he cast a look of utter disdain at the protective amulet. His lips continued peeled back in a snarl.

"-me-"

And as if rising from the grave, his foot lifted up before ruthlessly slamming down as he unleashed a truly unholy sound." GO!!"

And then it was silent.

An uneasy stillness fell over the clearing as the two prone men didn't dare move, the overwhelming pressure emanating from the lone figure before them was not that unlike a predator surveying his catch before moving in for the kill and it made the teenager want to bolt with his tail tucked between his legs to be honest.

If it weren't for the sound of heavy breathing, he would have thought that the man had been turned to stone. Those luminous eyes boring into their souls as their owner stared and stared and stared. Until suddenly, he blinked.

Then blinked again.

And once more, the unearthly red glow flickering before snuffing itself out.

And from there it seemed that the spell broken and the man was finally to take in their stricken state. A look of utter horror crossing his face as he slowly shook his head and took a step back. Then another. And another, faster this time. Eyes haunted, yet unable to leave their bloodied forms.

"I-I'm sorry."

And then he turned tail, bolting for the forest as he disappeared into the thick copse of trees.

(Wholly unaware of the single red notebook that had slipped out of his pocket in the scuffle.)

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Naturally they tried to go after him but between their injuries and the fading light they quickly lost sight him in the underbrush. Reluctantly the two of them stumbled huffing-and-puffing to a halt in a rocky half-clearing. Sam slowly hobbled over to the giant yew sprawling about the copse and leaned against its trunk with a strained grimace.

Long fingers carefully folded around his waist as he took care not to jostle the rib cage any further lest the bruises there turn in to full blown fractures. He watched as Jack slammed his free fist into the tree's bark with a loud curse. "We're just running in circles."

"Yeah? I hadn't noticed." The man drawled.

It was here the teenager's temper finally spilled over, "Y'know, I've been real patient with this whole thing. I kept my mouth shut when a bunch of freaking ghosts burst in the school store and started screeching –and I quote— 'The Great Lord of Darkness has clawed his way back from Death & That Which Lay Beyond the Stars to enact his revenge upon us all. It's over! The end is nigh!'" His mimicry of said spirits was somewhat tempered by the broken nose but otherwise spot on, Sam thought.

"I was just trying to get some snacks man. Not get my freaking face punched in by the local staff cryptid who suddenly decided to completely flip their lid. That bastard White really knows how to throw hands by the way." He threw a hand up in exasperation.

"But you know a guy can only only take so much. And so I must ask: what in the actual fuck-" He gestured pointedly back at the way they came, ears pinned against his head. "-was that? And why are we following after it?"

"...Yes, I too would like to know the reasoning."

Jack let out a startled yelp as both their heads jerked up to stare over as the newest arrival —Malleus Draconia, Housewarden of Diasomnia himself– seemingly appeared from the aether before them.

Disconcerted, Jack's ear twitched. "...Dude. Where did you even come from...?" While his nose might not have been currently in service his ears still worked so why in the world didn't he hear him creeping up on them? Did he just spawn in the second he mentioned Mr. White? Weird.

Apparently unphased (or perhaps used to such reactions), the fae seemed to take his question in stride and answered earnestly. "There was a social gathering dedicated to tonight's eclipse occurring nearby so I sought to occupy the intermedium with a nice walk through the nearby ruins with my compatriots as to not inconvenience them with an early arrival. However, as we set out one of my companions seemed to be stricken by a sleeping fit so the other opted to wait it out with him nearby and as such told me it was alright to go ahead and they would catch up in a bit."

"...Right."

"Now, I heard you mention the host of this affair, and quite loudly if I might add. May I perhaps inquire as to why you were in pursuit of this individual?"

Was it just him or did those eyes seem to gleam dangerously as the fae coolly took in their states of disarray only to quietly narrow at the half-dried spattering of bloodstains present on their forms. Jack's hackles raised as a chill ran down his spine and suddenly he felt as though if either of them said the wrong thing then it could turn out very badly, for them that was.

It seemed that the shopkeeper picked up on this as well if his nervous grimace were any indication. He glanced away, appearing as if to be weighing the situation's pros versus cons of the before appearing to have come to a decision.

"...Yeah, about that. Listen, there's no good way to put this but-" With a grim look he turned to face the others and made as if to push his hat back only to remember the piece of fabric had been lost earlier in the scuffle and instead settled for running a hand through his hair. "- that thing back there? It ain't your little friend anymore."

Malleus seemed to take that in for a moment, toxic green eyes unblinking. Then he subtly tilted his head. "Explain."

...Why did it sound like a threat?

"Alright, alright! You really know how to twist a guy's ear don't'cha? Yeesh..." The shopkeep waved them back down before giving a suspicious glance around; he seemed, for lack of a better word, agitated. "Fine, I'll spill. But not out here." Raising a hand to quickly stave off the protests he elaborated, "More often than not, in Old Woods like these the trees aren't the only things listening."

He turned to Malleus, "That big shindig of yours, it's over at Ramshackle right? That's good. I know that paranoid old geezer has set up who knows how many wards and booby traps around the joint so it should be safe enough there." Plus he didn't want to repeat any of this more than once.

Seeing no good reason to reject this reasonable offer (nor the implied opportunity to interrogate find out if that blood on wolf beastman shirt was just his own or not. For his sake it better be...) the fae begrudgingly agreed. He turned away, setting off through the thicket as the shopkeeper flanked him.

After a beat the exasperated beastman let out a quiet huffing-grumble and stalked behind, his hand tightening around the hardcover notebook clutched within.

-x-------X-------x-------X-------x ( * ) x-------X-------x-------X-------x-

Uneven footfalls thudded against the rough undergrowth as he ran. His thin frame raced through the darkening forest as if the devil himself was on his heels, which considering the circumstances was not that far off. He moved until his jumps began to turn sloppy, a small blackthorn thicket thwacked against his aching arms when he stopped being able to dodge properly, and beads of sweat mixed with dirt dripped down into his eyes only to to become yet another hindrance that eventually sent him and his glasses sprawling out across the pine needle and rock-encrusted soil.

And yet throughout it all, that malevolent laughter accompanied him as the foreign void behind his eyes encroached.

It was here, in this desolate stretch of forest worlds upon worlds away from all that he ever knew, the pale-haired man laid. Hopelessly lost and alone, save for the monster poised in wait under his skin, eager to take his body and soul for a nightmarish spin.

And it was here that the twenty-seven-year-old finally let himself shatter.

With crimson eyes he cried tears that refused to fall with the sound of mocking reassurances of a monster once dead as a symphony in the night.

And as the light of red moon rose history repeated itself.

#DS7 Writes Stuff #TWST Fanfic #TWST OC #TWST Fanart #TWST Yuusona #Along with the ensemble cast (more or less)#Oh just for the sake of spoilers though this is going to be read at your own risk but I'd say it'd roughly have a rating of T for Teen.#The Picrews are simply for image references and because I can't draw on my potato of a computer for shit.#This was also so long I had to break it into parts. Which...wasn't the 'brief halloweeny oneshot' that I had originally envisioned lol.#I also may have been reading like...a shit ton of cultivation novels and really just wanted a exorcist character to mess around with.#Also the music in Castlevania fucking slaps so I have to pay homage to it.#Speaking of music: In the last scene I recommend listening to a rendition of The Nowhere King” from the Centaurworld OST :)#Just for a little bit of extra info: Yukishima's maternal ancestor is the Protag from Ayakashi Romance Reborn who opted for a harem route.#White will insist that all of his exorcist bullshit is 'not magic' and he will die on this hill.#And like I mean #he's right but only by a technicality because he's using magically charged objects to preform his various shenanigans.#Also because the “magic” that those from his world can employ operates by a slightly different ruleset that can only be described as:#Trying to pilot a remote-control ship with your feet to the bottom of the Marianas Trench while some sort of Hell Piranha tries to eat you #and if you're unlucky and use too much oxygen the ship will explode and then everyone in it will become eldritch man eating piranha too.#So while he can't use twst's weird fae magic the guys would also have difficulty with his “magic” and likely overclock any “spell” of his.#And this little bit of information has steadily evolved into the massive misunderstanding that he can't use “magic” at all which...#considering how some of the students reacted to his presence at first he might not have stood to not correct it.

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stupidcupid06 · 7 months ago

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think my greatest problem as a leader is that I truly do not get it when people don't have their shit together

like "I'm under stress and need a break?" just say it. simple sentence. "I don't understand what's going on?" say it. got a deadline? do it now. brain not letting you? tell someone in charge what would work for you to get this thing done.

I get that people are scared of authority but truly the people in authority 99% of the time want to make choices based on adequate information and they want you to be ok, if only so they can keep using you for their projects

like the anarchist deconstruction of authority is that leadership is a brain disease where most people don't consider the needs of the group. I think forcing everyone to consider group needs is an efficiency issue, which is where administrative positions come in. but neither model works without communication and fear is inherently anti-communication. face your damn fear. and trust your administrator will at least try to accomodate you.

#I think this comes down to the need to feel respected that people im positions of authority often get #which is honestly pretty reasonable because they have more information and sometimes people need to just default to trusting them #in high intensity situations particularly #the key (which I did not learn easily) is that other people still may have information the leader doesn't - they just aren't communicating #because they think they see the whole picture and don't #or they don't know what parts of the picture the leader has #anyway this is why repeated information is holy and patronization is a lie #a group is kind of like an organism that tries to act as one to get sommat done #to act as one you must think as one #or #use the model of the body and have the brain tell the rest of the body what to do based on prime directives (slightly slower)#but by god don't make each part solo #what a ramble. good night everyone.

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oh-look-car-horns · 8 months ago

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Wondering what boop count your 3 letter word corresponds to? I gotchu:

Using a python script I wrote, I booped myself 50,000 times, saving an image of my boop-o-meter every 500 boops. Before we get into the results, there are two important limitations to this study that I should mention:

Firstly, because I only recorded the boop-o-meter every 500 boops, if a message appeared for less than 500 boops it may not have been caught.

Secondly, every now and then my computer would lose a boop or two when a click wouldn't register. This is seen in the 500 and 1000 boop images below, which in reality read 498 and 994 respectively. Because of this, boop values are slightly lower than they appear.

With that out of the way, lets dig in.

0-999:

From boops 0-999, the boop-o-meter displays your boop count, and changes color as you boop

Boop count: 0 Boop count: 500 Boop count: 1000

Boop fact: the colors do not change after 1000

LOL:

Between boops 1000 and 1500, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'LOL'. This likely took place at 1000 boops, but maybe it said 'MAX' or sumn for awhile at first? Idk this is already the misinformation website so not my problem.

Boop count: 1500 (actually more like 1490 ish)

More results below the cut

OMG:

Between 1500 and 2000, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'OMG'. Again, this probably happened at 1500 but who knows. Maybe staff made it 1523 for the bit or something.

Boop count: ~2000

WOW:

The boop-o-meter remained at omg until the 3500 boop readpoint, when it switched to 'WOW', meaning this transition happens somewhere between ~2980 and ~3480.

Boop count: ~3500

Boop fact: 'WOW' is the second longest reigning message

*-*:

Between 5000 and 5500 the boop-o-meter switched to '*-*'. You get the idea at this point so I'll speed it up.

Boop count: ~5500

WHY:

The boop-o-meter changed to 'WHY' between 6000 and 6500 boops. For science. That's why.

Boop count: ~6500

PLZ:

Next was 'PLZ', switching between 7000 and 7500.

Boop count: ~7500

AAA:

I'm not sure what bloody urine has to do with anything, but for some reason staff felt is was important to display, switching between 7500 and 8000.

Boop count: ~8000

;_;:

Huh the colon makes that one look weird. 8000-8500.

Boop count: ~8500

Boop fact: That fucking cat haunts me in my dreams

0_0:

I realized after I set my pyautogui script running that my computer wouldn't turn off its screen because of the clicking, so there was a strobing blue light in my room all night. This encapsulated my expression while trying to sleep (8500-9000).

Boop count: ~9000

MAX:

After 9000 it displayed 'MAX'. This was cap. (9000-9500 switch).

Boop count: OVER 9000 (9500)

<33:

I miss my wife. 9500-10,000.

Boop count ~10,000

TUM BLR:

THE HOLY GRAIL. The boop-o-meter switched to displaying 'TUM BLR' between 10,000 and 10,500 boops. Because my actual boop count was slightly behind my theoretical, I'd guess that this change happened at 10,000 boops.

Boop count: ~10,500 (likely switched at 10,000)

Summary:

When charted the boop curve looks as follows:

Boop curve: 0 - 10,000 boops

My script continued to run until 53,000 boops, but no further changes were observed. Again, there were quite possibly more messages at lower boop values, but my ass is not checking. Maybe I should have scaled my sampling accordingly, but it is what it is. Thank you for joining me on this journey, and if you have any corrections or more information, please add it to this post.

Boop fact: Terfs DNI

#boop #boop o meter #april fools #april fool's day #april fools day #python

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pucksandpower · 8 months ago

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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justanotherbirdbrain-blog · 1 year ago

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Geology of Natural Disasters and How to write them into your fictional universe.

So, you want to write about a natural disaster to advance your plot and torture your players/characters even more? Let me tell you how, accurately.

I feel like unless it is a volcano, natural disasters are a pretty slept on plot drivers, and some of them are really cool and unique! Today, I will talk to you about land slides, earthquakes (And earthquake related disasters), and volcanoes.

Landslides: Probably one I see the least in stories, but one that would be incredibly interesting to write into a plot where they believe in curses. Landslides can happen along ocean bluffs, slightly hilly areas, and highly mountainous areas, this means it is something that can happen in most landscapes. But what can trigger a landslide? Mostly all you need to trigger a landslide could be just abnormally large amounts of rain, excessive deforestation (with a little bit of rain), or an earthquake. If you don't want to use deforestation or an earthquake as a catalyst, a really cool indicator that the land is slipping and may be prone to a collapse is J hooked trees.

This indicates that there is soil creeping slowly over time, and it may lead to a major landslide.

2. Earthquakes: Probably one of the easiest things to write, earthquakes can happen anywhere, but they are most common in places that are tectonically active areas. There are about three types of environments you can expect earthquakes to be common. The first is just rugged mountains, if your landscape looks like this, you should write in earthquakes. Associated hazards could be landslides, avalanches, and large falling rocks.

The next landscape could be a thin mountain range, next to the ocean, very scenic, but very dangerous. Essentially, I am describing a subduction zone environment.

Earthquakes in these areas could equal a couple different associated disasters. Scenario one: A very large earthquake happens, and the ocean begins to recede. This is a tsunami, enough said. If you are writing a tsunami though, please, please, do not write it as a large wave, thank you. Also, a common way people are hurt by tsunami's are from them going into the ocean because they don't understand a tsunami is going to happen.

Scenario two: A large earthquake happens, your characters are in a valley and suddenly the ground begins to liquify as the ground shakes, once the shaking stops, the ground becomes solid like nothing ever happened, except everything has suddenly sunk into the now hard ground. This is called liquefaction and it typically happens in areas that have loose dirt or lots of saturated soil.

Scenario three: There are a lot of small earthquakes, they do not cause a lot of damage, but you begin to notice that one of the isolated mountains has a plume rising. Earthquakes can indicate lava moving underground and the filling of magma chambers.

The next environment that can host lots of earthquakes would be regions that have a lot of really deep valleys and small mountain ranges (not cone volcanoes), but overall seems pretty flat.

This indicates a transform fault like the San Andreas. If you want to hint at there being earthquakes in the area, you can show fence posts that are suddenly several feet out of line at a dilapidated farm or something similar.

(These earthquakes are different because they are cased from sideways movement, not an up-and-down movement this hint can only be used for this environment). Volcanoes would not be found here, but liquefaction and landslides could still occur here.

4. Volcanoes: If you thought earthquakes had a lot of information, volcanoes do too. First you have to ask yourself, what kind of volcano you want to have, what kind of eruption style? So lets break down the kind of eruptions you can have and what their landscapes look like. Hawaiian Shield volcano: This will produce a smooth fast lava, the landscape typically is pretty flat, but there will be small cones and the rocks can have a ropey or jagged texture and the rocks will be almost exclusively black to dark red.

Stratovolcanoes: These will be solitary mountains, typically, that look like perfect cones (Picture shown in earthquake section). These will have large ash cloud eruptions and pyroclastic flows, they may have some lava, but typically most damage is done from the pyroclastic flows (think Pompeii). Some hints of these, other than describing the cone features (which can be hidden by other mountains), would be to talk about petrified wood! Trees can get fossilized in the ash and I imagine it would be very strange to find this rock that clearly looks to be a piece of wood, but its a rock. Subcategory- Calderas: Used to be a large stratovolcano, but they erupt so explosively that the entire cone collapses and creates a basin.

There are a lot of kinds of volcanoes out there, so forgive me for just putting an infographic and then talking to you about these really rare types of eruptions that I feel like people should know about.

Okay lets talk about blue lava (kind of) and black lava

You will notice the lava is still red in the middle of this image, during the day these would look like a normal eruption, but at night the burning sulfur would make it appear blue. Some cool features other than this, would be that any water in the area would become very acidic and burn the skin due to sulfuric acid. This would again be really cool if you are trying to describe a 'cursed' land.

Black lava: This happens only in the east African rift I believe, but it is a carbonatite lava, but if you are writing in a rift valley (where the continent is tearing apart to form a new ocean) this might be a cool feature. The lava will cool white and will quickly erode, it makes for a very alien landscape!

Anyway as always, this is supposed to be an introductive guide for the basics of writing geology to create cool landscapes/features into dnd or fictional universes, if you are a geologist please understand my oversimplification of tectonics, I didn't want people to run away.

#geology #rocks #stem #dnd #dnd worldbuilding #worldbuilding stuff #fictional world #worldbuilding #fictional writing #writing resources #creative writing

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corkinavoid · 6 months ago

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DPxDC Tim Encounters a Fae at a Gala

Which may be a problem, yes, but the much more alarming part? The Fae looks like Damian.

"This is pretty boring, don't you think?"

The voice comes from behind, and Tim recognizes it instantly, but at the same time, he doesn't. He's never heard Damian talk like this, easy and a little amused, with no usual stiffness to his speech. Yet this couldn't be anyone else - being a vigilante means you can never drop your guard even in your civilian identity, and who other than Damian could have sneaked up on him?

He turns around.

It is Damian, and at the same time, it's not. The boy looks just like the demon child, the same face, same height and skin tone, the same way he puts his hair. But something is wrong. The way he holds himself, his relaxed and almost lazy posture, the absence of a usual scowl on his face, the way he feels comfortable here, in a crowd of people.

And his eyes, when he looks at Tim. Icy blue, almost translucent, like the color of icebergs and glaciers.

The not-Damian tilts his head a little and smiles just slightly. Tim blinks, realizing that there was a question, and he just stares at the boy instead of answering.

"Yeah, sure," he clears his throat and breaks the eye contact, looking away from not-Damian's eyes, his thoughts a frantic mess. Is this another clone? Or some kind of a shapeshifter? In any case, they approached Tim first, he can't lose his chance at gaining some information. So Tim smiles back, "Is it your first time? At the gala, I mean."

Now, when he looks at the boy again, the stricking resemblance doesn't hit him so hard. Instead, Tim notices something else - the boy is... eerily beautiful. He's never noticed Damian looking this nice - because that would be kind of creepy if he did, - but this not-Damian is... He can't really put it into words.

He's just beautiful.

Almost unnaturally so.

"You could say that," not-Damian answers, looking over the crowd around them, "I'm not used to so many people around, but I've seen my fair share of social gatherings."

Tim blinks. That statement compiled with his absolute lack of any kind of nervousness makes little sense.

Alright, he needs to get at least some information from the mystery twin. He is a detective, for god's sake.

"Are you here with someone?" That can be a useful question. Tim sure as hell knows that Bruce could not invite some Damian lookalike without prior warning, which means the boy had to come as someone's plus one. Or he sneaked in with no invitation, that's also a possibility.

"My godfather should be here somewhere," not-Damian nods, scanning the crowd before nodding his chin in the direction of a small cluster of people. Tim follows his gaze and finds a white-haired man in a matching white and silver suit in the middle of telling some kind of story.

"Vladimir Masters?" He questions with a noticeable amount of disbelief. The man never said a word about having a godson. Ever. And Tim did a thorough background check on the owner of DalvCo.

"Got it in one," not-Damian grins. Is it just Tim, or do his teeth really look sharper than they are supposed to?

Come to think of it, his ears are also not as round as they should be.

Unnatural beauty, sharp teeth and pointy ears, questions answered in a vague and unclear way. And Tim hadn't noticed him blink even once.

He has a guess. He doesn't like it, it's a very, very bad guess, but Tim is a Bat, a Robin, and a Detective. He knows when he needs to trust his gut even if his gut is telling him absolute nonsense.

He just needs to make sure.

Tim swallows the anxious feeling in the back of his throat and turns back to not-Damian, smiling:

"I think I didn't catch your name?" He does his best at sounding confused and not alarmed. The boy's grin widens just a bit, but Tim feels a cold shiver run down his back, and his mind is all but screaming for him to run away for this is not human, and whatever it is, it is dangerous.

"Would you give me yours in exchange?" The boy's voice is soft and easy, not a hint of mischief. Just a casual question. Maybe a little teasing.

Tim's blood runs cold as he tries to remember everything he has ever read and heard about the fair folk. Never give them your name, but there has to be a way to answer this question, right?

"You may call me Damian," he finally answers. Maybe this is a risk, calling himself his brother's name, but Tim feels like this is somehow a right thing to do since the boy - the creature - looks like him.

Not-Damian's eyebrows shoot up, and there's a hint of surprise in his eyes when he starts quietly laughing. The heavy pressure of the air around him disappears at the sound of the crystalline laughter, like it was never there. Tim feels like he had just disarmed a bomb or passed a test with his own life at stake. Maybe he actually did.

"Clever," the boy grins again and nods politely, bowing his head down like they are at a medieval ball and not a gala, "My name is Danny. It is nice to meet my brother's brother."

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#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #batfam #fae rules #fae #changelings #danny x tim?#danny x tim #tim drake #danny is a fae #he just wanted to mess with bats #no ill intentions he promises #i'm obsessed with this au #feel free to add on #phanfic #story prompt #cork writes #cork prompts

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reidsworld · 4 months ago

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Unveiled Secrets

Summary: The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Jack and Haley do not exist in this, kissing, cuddling, allusions to sex, light teasing, use of Y/N, pet names (my love, baby), that’s it I think, lmk if I missed any! Oh and pure fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k

Mars speaks… hi my loves, I was motivated to write so I am using this to figure out my writing style a bit and how I want to format my works! I’ve been going through a bit of a Hotch phase lately so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

The BAU office was slowly quieting down as the day turned to dusk, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the desks. Aaron Hotchner, head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, stood in his office, the soft light of his desk lamp highlighting the stress lines that had deepened over the years. He checked his watch—almost time to go home. A rare, soft smile touched his lips, a sight reserved for only one person.

He closed the case file on his desk, slipping it neatly into his briefcase before reaching for his jacket. His phone buzzed just as he picked it up, and he glanced at the screen to see a text from you, Can’t wait to see you. Should I pick up dinner?

That smile of his deepened as he quickly typed a reply, I’ll pick it up on my way home. See you soon, my love.

He hadn’t planned on keeping his relationship with you a secret, nor did he have any grand strategy for revealing it. He assumed that given time, his team would figure it out on their own. After all, they were profilers—eventually, they would notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the unexplained absences, the slightly more relaxed demeanour after particularly stressful cases. He hadn’t intended to hide it forever, just until they pieced it together.

As he opened the door to his office, however, he nearly collided with Spencer Reid, who was walking by, engrossed in a file. Reid looked up, startled, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Sorry, Hotch! I didn’t see you there."

"It’s alright, Reid," Hotch replied, a calmness in his voice that belied the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes. He wasn’t often caught off-guard, especially not in the safety of his own office.

Reid, however, had a habit of noticing things others missed. His eyes flickered to the phone still in Hotch’s hand, the screen just dimming from inactivity. Before Hotch could slip it into his pocket, Reid’s sharp eyes caught your name on the screen. His brow furrowed in confusion as he processed the information.

“Y/N, as in the academy’s Y/N?” Reid asked, the question out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hotch froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough for Reid’s sharp mind to pick up on the anomaly. Reid’s brain worked at lightning speed, connecting dots that others might have missed. He knew Hotch was fiercely private, but this reaction was new.

“Goodnight Reid” Aaron replied, quickly, shutting down any further questioning that may have come from the young genius.

Reid blinked, taken aback, but his curiosity was now piqued. However, years of working with Hotch had taught him when to push and when to back off. “Have a good evening, Hotch.”

As Reid walked away, Hotch let out a slow breath. This wasn’t how he wanted the team to find out, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. He had always assumed it would be Reid who would notice first; the young profiler missed nothing. Still, he had hoped for a bit more time. But the cat was out of the bag now, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team found out.

The next morning, the BAU office was abuzz with more than the usual activity. Reid’s brief encounter with Hotch had set off a flurry of curiosity and speculation among the team. They were profilers, after all, and even the smallest clues could ignite their imaginations.

“I’m telling you, something’s definitely going on with Hotch,” Reid said as the team gathered in the bullpen before their morning briefing. He couldn't shake the image of your name on Hotch's phone from his mind.

JJ, trying to keep things under control, said, “Come on, guys, it could just be a friend. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin on his face. “Reid’s onto something. Hotch has been acting a bit differently lately. He’s not staying late like he used to.”

“And he’s been smiling more often,” Garcia added, her excitement barely contained. “The man’s practically glowing sometimes.”

Rossi, with a teasing tone, suggested, “Maybe he’s just getting better sleep. But I have to admit, there’s definitely something different.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Don’t you want to know? If Hotch is seeing someone, that’s huge!”

Rossi shrugged, still smirking. “Of course, I’m curious. But let’s give him some space. If he wants us to know, he’ll tell us. And if we’re lucky, we might even get to meet her.”

Prentiss grinned, "Do you think it’s serious? Like, she’s ‘the one’?”

“I think,” Rossi said thoughtfully, “if Aaron is keeping this under wraps, it’s because it’s important to him. He wouldn’t be so secretive if it wasn’t serious.”

Just then, Hotch entered the bullpen, and the conversation quickly shifted to a quieter, more focused buzz. The team members turned to their desks, but the air was charged with unspoken questions and speculative glances. Hotch, sensing the change in atmosphere, gave a brief nod before heading to his office.

As the day dragged on with paperwork and case briefings, the undercurrent of curiosity remained. The team exchanged looks, clearly eager to discuss Hotch’s secret, but they were careful to avoid bringing it up directly. The excitement about Hotch’s personal life was palpable, and everyone was waiting for the right moment to address the topic.

Later that evening, Aaron finally headed home after a long day. As he walked through the front door, he found you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and a glass of wine in your hand. You looked up from the book you were reading, a smile spreading across your face when you saw him.

“Hi, baby, how was your day?” you asked, setting the book aside as he walked over to you.

“Tiring,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And eventful. Reid saw a text from you last night.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no. What did he say?”

“He asked if it was from you,” Aaron said, sitting down beside you. “I shut him down, but I think I gave myself away. The team’s been acting strange all day.”

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. “So, they’re onto us?”

He nodded, slipping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “It was bound to happen eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be now.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t figure it out sooner,” you said, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “They are profilers, after all.”

He smiled down at you, his expression softening. “I never planned on keeping it a secret forever. I just figured they’d figure it out on their own time.”

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked with a playful grin.

He sighed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder. “I suppose it’s time to tell them. They’re already curious, and I’d rather they hear it from me than through rumours.”

“You know they’ll be happy for you,” you said, squeezing his hand. “For us.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s nervous. I’ve always kept my personal life separate from work, but with you… it’s different.”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, the warmth of the moment lingering between you. “We’ll do it together, then. When you’re ready.”

Aaron’s gaze softened, but a playful glint sparkled in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Right now, I want to do anything but think about the team,” his voice dropped to a low murmur.

You felt the heat of his words and smiled, leaning in closer. “Sounds perfect,” you whispered, as he nuzzled against you, his lips brushing yours with a grin.

A few days later, Rossi had decided to host a dinner party for the team. The team was eager to catch up and enjoy the evening. Aaron knew it was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the team as his girlfriend.

As the doorbell rang, Rossi answered the door to find Hotch standing beside you. As you both entered the living room, the atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as Hotch introduced you with a genuine smile.

“I’d like you to meet Y/N, my girlfriend,” Hotch said, his voice steady but warm.

The room fell into a stunned silence before erupting into excitement. Garcia’s face lit up with recognition and delight. “Oh my God! It’s Y/N! I knew it was someone! This is incredible!”

Morgan’s grin widened as he approached. “So, this is the elusive woman behind Hotch’s new smile! You’ve been keeping us in the dark for too long, Hotch.”

JJ smiled warmly as she extended her hand. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Y/N, we’re really happy for both of you.”

Reid, ever the profiler, couldn’t resist asking, “How long have you two been together?”

Hotch laughed softly, putting an arm around you and smiling fondly. “Almost five months now. Y/N works as the unit chief for the BSU in the academy. I met her when she invited me to guest lecture.”

Garcia’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I knew it! You two have that perfect power couple vibe. We have to plan another get-together so we can hang out more!”

Rossi, enjoying the moment, gave Hotch a friendly pat on the back. “Well, I guess this means you won’t be around for poker nights as often.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’ll still make time for poker nights, don’t worry.”

As the evening continued, the team enjoyed getting to know you better. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, light-hearted teasing, and genuine happiness for Hotch and you.

“So, when do we get to do this again?” Garcia asked eagerly.

Hotch smiled, feeling content. “Soon. We’ve been talking about having you all over for dinner. Now seems like the perfect time.”

As the team chatted and enjoyed the evening, Aaron felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Introducing you to his team had been a significant step, but their warmth and support made it all worthwhile. The thought of merging his work family with his personal life filled him with quiet joy.

As the party wound down and the team began to leave, Morgan gave Hotch a sly grin. “You know, Hotch, we’re happy for you, but don’t think we won’t give you a hard time about keeping this a secret for so long.”

Hotch chuckled, appreciating the camaraderie. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

With that, the team said their goodbyes and headed home, their spirits high. Hotch followed them, feeling grateful for the support of his team and looking forward to the future with you.

Mars speaks... (again) Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Also, would anyone be interested if I wrote for other fandoms such as F1 and Marvel? Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

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ambrosiagoldfish · 9 months ago

Note

I've never sent a request before, but I'm fiending for more adam, like anything, anything at all

Benefit of the doubt

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Viewer discretion is advised

Warnings: Angst(?), Not exactly fluff at the end but it gets better, typical Adam TW’s, reader low-key high-key has a complex about being loved, this is set way before the show, and Gn! Reader. (Also Y/n isn’t used, which also surprised me, the author, LMAO)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1760

A/N: Hi! Thanks for the request! I haven’t had a chance to write something that was originally my own idea in a while, so this was very refreshing! I’ve had this idea since I’ve watched the show so I hope you enjoy it!

I’m entirely up for making a small series from this oneshot, but I would need to know y’all’s opinion on it! (So don’t feel scared to let me know if you want some more of this idea in my Request box/the replies on this post!!)

Also Adam may be slightly OOC but please just chalk it up to him not yet getting his ego’s dick sucked 24/7

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy, let me know if you do!

Proofread but of course could have left mistakes!

You’ve existed for almost all of human existence, Almost.

You were the 4th being to be created during the time of Eden. But unlike the other 3, you weren’t human. In fact, you technically never lived before. An honestly hopeless existence, yet it was so beautiful in every way. But for what purpose? Well…

You were created shortly after Eve ate the apple, before she and eventually Adam committed the first act of sin that caused evil to latch onto humanity like a leech.

The reason for your existence was simple. To be Adam’s new spouse, except for when after he died. From the very moment Eve bit the fruit of temptation, it was already decided she would hold no place in heaven. Adam was given mercy due to him not possessing any knowledge of the fruit Eve had shared with him, he trusted her wholeheartedly. Which is exactly why heaven gave him mercy… no, pity would be a better choice of words.

Upon your creation you learned immediately of the happenings before your existence. About Lilith and Eve, and about Lucifer

And so, after Adam and Eve were casted away from the Garden, they continued to live their lives, fostering the existence of mankind for the rest of time. And when they eventually died, Adam was given pity while Eve was thrown to the wayside, the vast unknown.

You thought it was finally your time to experience existence with the one you loved, the one you were made for. Of course you never would know life as he did but surely your life never-after life could be just as meaningful as his.

How excited you were, how completely enamored by the thought of it. But there was a problem with that, Adam had grown into a new person, he was meant to of course, he was human. But he had grown selfish, abhorrent… insecure.

You understood why, to be betrayed by not one but two of his wives for the same person. You couldn’t possibly imagine what he could be feeling. Before you were to meet your future husband, Sera informed you that he had asked for a mask, and once on, he has refused to take it off.

That didn’t bother you, it’s irrelevant to your love for him. You've only heard descriptions of his features. Short Brown hair, gold eyes, bushy eyebrows, some scruff on his chin. All in all, he sounded perfectly fine, ordinary even. But even then it’s his choice to wear the mask, so you’ll respect it.

Finally, the time he arrived in heaven, and when Sera finally introduced you, his new spouse, the one to whom would be by his side for the rest of forever.

He rejected you outright.

“What?” Your breath hitched as you stuttered over the word, the sharp inhale of your lungs through your mouth flicked through the air.

Sera looked just as shocked as you but she quickly regained her composure “What is the meaning of this Adam?”

“If you think I’m going to let my life get fucked over by another one of your “gifts” well, you’ve got another thing coming!” He crossed his arms and shook his head defyingly. “I’ve already learned my lesson with those last 2 bitches.”

“Adam I’m sorry that happened to you but I would never-“ almost like lightning his finger shot to your mouth, shushing you.

“Save it, Sweetcheeks, I really don’t care what you have to say, so just stay there and look pretty, k?” His hand fell and grabbed the sides of your face, squishing your cheeks together, his LED mask flashing a sharp smile.

You saddeningly looked down at the clouds below you.

“Adam!” Sera’s voice sounded through the air, still soft but firm, she continued, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Divine judgment allowed you to be the first human soul in heaven, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I expect you to give your new spouse that same grace.”

Slowly your eyes looked up at Sera with a soft smile. Adam only groaned “Ugh, Fine but don’t be fuxking annoying, capiche?” You nod your head quickly.

“Very good, glad we have it settled.” Sera gives a quick smile, “now, I have some business to take care of so I’ll leave you two alone to get to know one another” With that, Sera flew away leaving the both of you alone.

The silence was thick in the air, the only sound being the occasional wind breeze blowing past. The sunlight creeps in through the clouds painting an orange sky above you both. In every sense of the word, it was perfect.

It was almost funny. You had waited so long to finally meet him, your true love, the one you were made for. All the things you dreamed about, the laughs you’d have together, the warm embrace of the person who you loved. But now… you didn’t know what to say…

“I’m… happy to finally meet you.” Your voice is quiet, almost non-audible. “I’ve been waiting for you since… well, forever…”

He doesn’t respond. He seems to be transfixed on something below you both. You train your eyes on whatever he’s watching only to see the dark cavernous abyss below you. Finally he breaks his silence.

“The fuck is that?” He asked pointing down, a sound of genuine intrigue hidden behind his abrasive voice

“That’s hell?” You stated confused “where would-be sinners will go to be punished, didnt you k-“ you suddenly realized that perhaps Adam really didn’t know what hell was. It was only created relatively recently, after Eve and Him ate the apple, of course he wouldn’t know. “it’s also where Lucifer-“

“Don’t fucking say his name.” Adam spoke, his voice rough in his speech. LED mask putting a harsh frown on his face. “Let’s get one thing straight M”Kay babe, if you’re my “new spouse” that’s something you should remember.” The “new spouse” was said with a tone clearly meant to mock you.

“Sorry…”

“Ugh, It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He groaned before a wicked smile crept onto his mask “Sooo, that means he’s going to be stuck with all the wasteful beings of existence, HA fuxkin’ hilarious. Guess that makes them the losers and us the Winners!”

His laugh filled the air, the sound was like music to your ears, sure maybe it wasn’t really what you’d hoped he’d fine funny, but you loved it all the same but eventually his laugh died down

Silence again… in admits of all of it you suddenly was sparked with a thought “oh!” Adam looked confused at the random exclamation. “I had almost forgotten… I brought you something, as a welcome gift or was it a nice to meet you gift? Both? Eh, it doesn’t matter but the point is-“ you suddenly snap your fingers.

Golden light began shining, the light seemed like liquid hot magma as it moved and molded slowly into a shape. Light seemed to be overlapping and churning into itself, forming your desired outcome. With one final snap of your fingers, the gleaming gold liquid took hold, and quickly hardened to a solid.

The object that had formed quickly fell down, landing in your arms with a light thud.

“I’m still learning this creation stuff, so I’m sorry if it’s not perfect but-“ you hold out the object in your arms as an invitation to grab it “I learned from Sera that you liked to play guitar when you were alive, so I thought you might like to have one here…”

Adam looked at the instrument in your hands. The base color was gold, the neck was pearly white with gold strings. To be honest it looked more like a harp then anything, like if a guitar and a harp had a baby.

Silence again. Did he not like it? Did he hate it? You go to pull it back to you and apologize when suddenly it’s ripped out from your hands.

“Holyshit, this is sick as Fuck!” Adam immediately started playing some rifts on the new guitar. The sound wasn’t what you were expecting but you guess Sera was right about his talent with the instrument. The whole time his mask had a wide and sharp smile as he mimicked guitar sounds with his voice, the occasional laugh leaving his mouth.

“I’m really glad you like it” you say, a sigh of relief leaving your body.

Adam looked at you, one you missed. He saw how relieved you were, how nice you were being. No person who supposedly loved him ever gifted him something, well, one other did. Someone he trusted and loved more than everyone, anyone. But look how that ended, with them being removed from the garden, away from an eternity of happiness until he died. All from someone giving him what he thought was nothing but love, a gift.

But he could see that this was different, you were different. When Eve gave him the apple, she didn’t explain what it was or why she wanted him to eat it, even when he asked her she didn’t explain. But with you, you had not only given him something you knew he liked but also expressed the reason behind it. Yes, you were different, even Adam could see it.

“Anyways, thanks for the axe, I guess…” Adam for the first time was stunned, but quickly he continued “What was the thing that Sera chick said about me and “divine judgment” or whatever the fuck? That she gave me the “benefit of the doubt…”

You were a bit confused but continued listening, “I guess I should at least try to give you a chance, since you got me this sick ass guitar an’ shit.” Your face lit up, you about began to speak before you were, once again, shushed “B-B-But-” his finger tapped your lips with each repeated syllable ”-only a chance. If you betray me like those last 2 bitches then you’re done, got it?”

To say you were overjoyed would be an understatement, a smile quickly plastered across your face as you quickly nodded your head

“Alright good, so uh, what do ya say about showing me the best places to get a bite to eat around here, I could really go for some ribs right about now.”

“ I’d… love to, thank you Adam”

“Yeah don’t mention it Sweetcheeks” Adam quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you two began walking.

Maybe you will get your eternity of happiness.you can only pray you do.

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yesimwriting · 4 months ago

Text

A Matter of Timing

Midway part 2!! read part one here: Midway

Summary: Despite the hardships of your marriage to Aegon, the two of you reach a new understanding during the aftermath of his accident.

Warnings/info: forced marriage turned to awkward, subtle pining masquerading as friendship, descriptions of (chronic) pain, aegon's recovery being sped up slightly through a small time skip for the sake of plot, slight aemond slander, canon compliant incest (reader is rhaenyra's daughter)

----

The light spilling in through the window is a beacon, the warmth of it offering the king's apartments something beyond the somber sterility that followed his father throughout his final years.

At times, if Aegon allows his mind to dwell on the similarities between his situation and Viserys's the ache of his body morphs into something else, an all consuming beast that nearly makes him wish Sunfyre's wing had never cradled his broken body. It'd be a simple thing to spend the rest of his days being constantly mended within the safe confines of this room.

Someone else would rule in his place--like his mother and grandsire had done for his father--likely the same man, the same brother that betrayed him, and Aegon's role as a vestigial only ever visited out of obligation would be cemented into reality.

"I'm sure you're tired of novels..." The voice is not much different than the sun's light, a thing of warmth. His father did not have anything similar to you. "But I do not have much to speak of."

Aegon believes it. His authority was one of the few things holding you to your position. Now, with him here, he imagines your existence within the Red Keep has only grown more precarious. His mother had been petitioning to separate you from the monarchy since before the incident. He can't imagine anyone of significance telling you anything.

"Your small council meets often, which seems to be occupying a great deal of your mother's time." Your summary is blank, straightforward as you search your thoughts for information he might be interested in. "Aemond's recently been named regent, though I'm sure someone must have told you that already."

Aemond. The confirmation of his suspicions jabs at him, the assuring nature of your voice briefly losing its hold on him. He begs his body, his mind to cry out...All he can manage is a rasp that's almost a name and twitch of his fingers.

The seat you've pulled next to his bed side creaks as you shift. You've always been encouraging of his movements, invested in each sign of the life still clinging to him in a way that implies a devotion someone like you could never feel for him. "Aegon?" He tries again, another ragged distortion of his brother's name. "Are you--Do you want him?"

No. You are the only one that seems to be on his side entirely. You may detest his family, you may desire your mother's rule, but his recovery matters to you. Even with your care, he has no way to express what he needs to.

He squints his eyes open, a task that takes more from him than he'd ever admit. His sight is weak, the side of his face that took the worst of Vhagar's flames agitated by the effort. You're close enough for him to make out your features, your expression. With your eyebrows pinched together like that, you look a little younger, like the girl that used to pretend to understand the crude jokes made by her brothers and uncles.

You shift closer, your hand finding a place on his bed. With trembling fingers, Aegon manages to place his hand over yours. Your gaze dips downwards, briefly landing on where your fingers meet before finding his features again. You study him with a focus that'd be unnerving coming from anyone else.

Your lips part before you're ready to speak. "You don't want Aemond here." It's not a question.

Your understanding reaches something deep inside of him. The relief offers him the strength needed to tilt his chin downwards, an approximation of a nod. You let out a breath, a question clearly waiting on the tip of your tongue.

The sound of assured footsteps stops you from asking it. You press your lips together, attention shifting towards the room's entrance. The door groans as it's pulled open, the footsteps continue, clearer now. Aegon's eyes flit towards the doorway in time to see his brother.

Instead of looking at the results of his betrayal, Aemond's eye settles on something just past Aegon. You. "Your grace."

Dread coils itself inside Aegon's stomach. His fingers bend as much as he can will them to, his hold on you attempting to convey anything that might get you to stay away from Aemond.

Overnight, Aemond has been consumed by a monster that's fed off his loyalty, leaving nothing in its wake but a shell of who his brother used to be. That beast has no place near you.

Your eyes don't leave Aemond, but your fingers do press into his, a subtle confirmation of something. "My lord."

Aemond steps forward, his hands politely held behind his back. "How is my brother?" Another step towards his bed, towards you. Aegon's body aches with the desire to move, to place an even greater wedge between you and Aemond. "You are by his side more than ever these days."

Your lips press together, a tight lipped smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "It seems someone should be." The lack of subtlety in your comment seems to hit you a moment too late. In an attempt to remedy your mistake, you tack on something polite, "With you all understandably concentrating on the war efforts and ruling over your people. You more than most, prince regent."

Your shift to docility paired with the reminder of Aemond's new position seems to work. The corner of Aemond's mouth pulls itself upwards, a predator's smile. "So you've heard."

"Your mother told me this morning," you pause, "She often comes by during the mornings when Aegon's bandages are replaced to oversee his recovery." Aemond moves even closer, his knees practically against the side of Aegon's mattress. "It feels odd to congratulate you considering the circumstances, but I am sure it is still a great honor to serve your realm."

Aemond's single eye focuses on your expression. Aegon feels the inflation of his lungs stall. "Thank you, my queen." His brother's gaze does not leave you. "You seem to have taken to your own service." Aegon's stare does not leave you. "Mornings, evenings, sometimes through supper...you stay by your husband's side." He lets out a low breath. "Though noble, I do worry that you are not making enough time for your own rest."

The concern in Aemond's voice ignites something in Aegon's blood. It is not enough to disfigure him and steal his throne, now Aemond needs his wife as well. This is another aspect of Aemond's greed that Aegon should have long ago suspected.

Despite your questionable parentage and the circumstances surrounding your union, your beauty has never been deniable. Of course Aemond had seen it as well. Your way of being is another factor that made being forced into this marriage tolerable, even when you hated him most, your arguments and protests had never been cruel, they had only been vexing in the most intriguing way possible. Aegon should have known that, too, would not go unnoticed by his brother.

Aegon's fingers tighten around yours. "Though appreciated, your concern is unnecessary." Your voice is even, words measured. "I often rest in my own apartments, as they are connected to my husband's, which means that I do not have to worry about him needing something and no one being around to hear him."

"Your loyalties to the king are admirable." Aemond moves even closer to Aegon's bed, his knees pressing into the bed's side. "And they have been noticed. We are both aware of the skepticism some hold towards you because of your mother, but no one can deny that you are a good queen. You are poised, intelligent, and beloved by the small folk."

Aemond extends an arm over Aegon's form, his fingers gently brushing against the edge of your hairline, pushing a stray strand of hair back into place. "And I plan to look after you in the ways your husband cannot, as my brother would have wanted."

If Aegon were capable of full movement, he'd take his brother's remaining eye. As if sensing his unease, or perhaps even feeling some of your own, your hand squeezes his. "That is very kind of you, my lord. Thank you."

He nods, straightening fully. "Of course. I must now leave you both, the small council is waiting for me. I was only given a moment to check on the king's health."

"Yes, attend to the king's small council, your brother is well looked after."

Aemond presses his lips together, his expression uncertain. "I am sure."

With that, Aemond turns around. His footsteps are even, unhurried as he moves towards the room's entrance. You're quiet as he leaves, attention focused on the doorway.

After a long moment, once you are certain that Aemond is no longer within the confines of Aegon's apartments, you scoff. "I wouldn't want him involved in my recovery, either."

Your thumb drags against his knuckles, the contact so soft it borders on overwhelming. "But you--the two of you were close, weren't you?" Your eyebrows pinch together curiously. "At least, relatively so. You defended him after..." You blink, eyes glossier than they were a moment ago. "After Luke."

Aegon should have known then that Aemond was never meant to be an integral part of his reign. That type of instability, that connection to rage...loyal as a hound. The only thing his brother feels a sense of duty towards is his own ambition.

If he had punished his brother for Lucerys's death, exiled him, he wouldn't be here. You'd also--it would have been an opportunity to demonstrate his commitment to his wife.

"I--" His throat burns around the syllable. You blink, the grief melting away from you as you focus on his words. "Things are different now." The energy it takes to form the words is not worth the cost. He cannot even decide what to focus on. You--comforting you, or attempting to explain Aemond's betrayal.

You squeeze his hand. "Even when it hurt, a part of me always understood why you sided so adamantly with Aemond. That is not to say that I was not angry..." He remembers your rage, the threats you had made again and again before breaking down. Aegon said nothing as you cried, but he did smooth circles against your back until you fell asleep. "I would have done anything for my brother."

You let out a low breath, the grief behind your eyes melting into something more present. "You are speaking more more these days." There's a warmth to the phrasing that soaks into his skin. "It is...assuring." Your fingers press into his. "If you do not mind me asking, why do you not wish to see Aemond?"

Aegon watches you openly, taking in your features and the softness behind your eyes. After everything that happened between the two of you, the circumstances of your marriage, you found it in you to tend to him as he struggled to not lose his hold on life. How could he repay your kindness by telling you the truth?

You're quicker to action when it comes to defending others, he had seen it in the way you spoke of Lucerys. As of now, Aemond seems to like you, or at the very least, want you. And though the thought makes his skin crawl, that is a much safer position for you than knowing what Aemond is. At the very least, until Aegon recovers enough to be in a position to defend you.

"He saw me go after Meleys after--he told me not to." The lie leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He squeezes your hand, reminding himself what he's doing this for. "And--and he is ruling now, he should--he should remain focused."

You watch him for a moment, eyebrows pinched together uncertainly. He lets out a breath, slowly moving his arm. Aegon ignores his pain as he lifts your hand to his lips. What the gesture takes from him is returned by your smile.

----

Evenings are usually his respite, the time between the late afternoon and true nightfall.

These fleeting hours provide him something much needed. A way of pretending that he is no patient, no burden. With no one around to hover and spare him pitiful glances, Aegon can almost imagine that his life has gone unchanged.

Especially during the evenings in which you join him. The solitude softens you, allowing you to speak freely and sometimes even jest about some of the happenings of his court. You’re rarely able to update him on any significant political changes, but he finds the gossip you can offer him distracting enough—or, at the very least, your delivery of the rumors is.

Tonight, however, there have been no stories recounting a supposed affair between Ser Criston Cole and some unknown woman or of the changes in the small folk’s attitudes. There has only been silence and the flickering of candlelight.

He glances towards the seat to left of his bed, one of your books abandoned in your place. The cane one of the maesters had encouraged him to begin practicing with is propped up against the wall behind the chair. Perhaps you are starting to realize that what drew you to Aegon was not some newfound appreciation of your connection, but your goodness, your desire to repair him the way you would a wounded animal.

Though still healing, Aegon has made it a few paces away from death's doorstep. He's been instructed to practice moving as much as he can bear to, to get used to strain of his limbs and the protests of his body. However, Aemond and the small council have made a point of suggesting Aegon does all he can to keep his recovery process away from prying eyes for the sake of morale.

The soft sound of footsteps echoes from beyond one of the walls that keep him from the outside world.

"I appreciate you taking the time to escort me to my husband's apartments, my lord."

Aegon's fingers dig into his sheets, his body incapable of giving him the force needed to exhaust any real frustration. That's another thing that seems to have changed in these last few days. With the crown on his head, Aemond has pivoted towards a new goal--you.

"These are uneasy times, my queen, I am glad to be assured of your safety."

His queen. Aemond has done all he can to protect your position within the Red Keep. He continues to promote you, partly out of a way of placating the small folk that support you and mainly as some kind of ploy to draw you in.

"Thank you, again," you say, "I won't keep you any longer, your time is valuable."

Without another word from his brother, the door to his apartments creeks open. Less than a minute later, the final door dividing the two of you is pushed open slowly. The hinges still creek, but you're still more careful than you need to be as you continue forward.

You turn to face him before the door can fall shut. "You're sitting." The words are said with such warmth, Aegon's frustrations are nearly banished from his mind.

"You've seen me sit."

His flatness does not quell your joy. "I know, but you're not with the maester...and it--it's later than you'd usually sit." You continue forward, stopping at the foot of his bed. You allow yourself to watch him openly. "And your skin is losing its yellow undertones." You place a hand on the foot of his bed, eyes shifting away from him. "Watching you recover...it has brought me a great deal of peace."

There's a hint of vulnerability in the way you stare at his bedding. Aegon lets out a breath. You are not the conniving type, and you have no way of knowing what Aemond really is. "Well, you deserve a great deal of credit." The words are enough to get you to begin walking again. "I do not know where I'd be without you."

You smile, stalling at the other side of his bed. "I am wonderful, I know." You place your hand against the bedding, but not yet pulling them back. "In reality, I wish there was something I could to ease your pain. You are the one that is still recovering from Meleys's flames."

He turns his head enough to look at you. "You deserve a great deal of credit for that as well."

You smile again, this time the look a much more genuine thing. "Can I stay in here tonight?"

The question is one of the few formalities that you still cling onto. You sleep in his bed more often than your own these days. "I'd never ask you to leave my bed."

You roll your eyes as you push back his sheets. You push off your shoes before crawling into his bed. He enjoys your proximity more than he'd ever be able to tell you.

You settle close enough for him to be able to feel the warmth radiating off of your skin. "I missed you tonight."

"Then perhaps you should have taken your supper with me."

You let out a low breath. "I wanted to, but Aemond asked me about how often I have supper here, and I couldn't think of what to say."

Aegon cannot help his scoff. "And when Aemond calls..."

You turn to face him, your body shifting even closer. "He is acting as the king, he is your regent--"

"My regent, my throne, my wife." The embittered words come out before he can stop them.

"What?" You're staring at him with wide, bewildered eyes. "You cannot possibly think that I, of all people, have been disloyal to you."

Regret immediately jabs at his chest. His anger, his fear, none of it has anything to do with you. "No, I did not mean it in that way."

"I am here when you go to bed, I am here when you rise, I am here more than I am anywhere else. In what moment would I have had time to be unfaithful?" You push your weight onto your knees, hurt pooling in your eyes. "Perhaps while eating with your family, or--or sitting with the ladies of a court that loathes me?"

The yellow glow of the candlelight highlights the shininess of your eyes. "I tolerate my brother's murderer because we are married, because I am left no other option. Do not ever accuse me of betraying you or Luke like that ever again."

The words are sharp, tears brimming in your eyes as you force them out. Guilt ensnares some vital force in his chest, the pain of his body amplified by reget.

He whispers your name, the sound raspy and pathetic. "It is not you, it is the fucking traitor that is determined to take everything of value from my life."

You blink, the self righteous anger and offense briefly leaving you. "Traitor?" The mistake leaves his face warm. "What--" Your eyes flit towards the door. "Aegon, I am going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me. If these last weeks have meant anything to you, I want you to be honest with me."

He swallows. You reach for his hand. "Your injuries--are they from Meleys's flames?"

Aegon squeezes your palm to his with a force that leaves pain pulsing up his arm. Beneath the weight of your stare, your silent pleading, he breaks. Aegon shakes his head.

You exhale, an odd sort of tranquility coloring your features. "Okay." Carefully, you bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. The serenity of your movements throws him. "Thank you for your honesty."

Aegon watches as you set his hand down gently. You begin to shift back, forcing Aegon to straighten his spine even further. "Where--where are you going?"

"To tell the guards that their prince regent, the same man that removed his own mother from the small council, the same man that killed my--" Your voice cracks at the last syllable. "My brother, has now attempted to kill--" The words waver before breaking off entirely. "To kill the king."

Aegon reaches for you, his fingers finding their way around your wrist. He latches onto you as if you might disappear if he allows you to. "We cannot say anything."

The sentence pushes you away, sending you to that distant place that took you after your brother's passing. Aegon ignores the way his side protests as he sits up even further, his hand coming to rest against your spine.

"Guards know no loyalty beyond orders and their wages, Aemond is in a position of immense power. You are beloved by the people, but hold little standing in your own court." He runs his knuckles against your lower back. "Look at me. Any number of incidents resulting in my death could be deemed an accident. I can't--I can't protect myself, let alone you."

It takes you a moment to return. "He killed my brother." Tears begin to run down your face. "He almost killed you." You're crying openly now. "We need--we--"

"I know," he whispers, "But as of now, we have nothing except things to lose." Aegon moves his hand, allowing it to settle against your waist. "He likes you now, and that--that is a safe thing."

You inhale sharply, the sound a little more than a sniffle. "I don't care."

"I do." This is one area that he is unwilling to compromise in. "I won't risk you." He releases your side in favor of reaching for your face, his thumb wiping at already spilled tears. "Promise me that you will not do anything. Please."

"We cannot let him get away with this."

"We won't," Aegon vows, "Because we will wait until the right time. I will heal further. He will make a mistake, and if I do not hear of it, you will." He drags his thumb against your cheek again, his fingers settling beneath your jaw. "Promise me."

After a moment, you nod. "I promise." The words are shallow and uncertain, but Aegon does not fear them. You mean your promises. "What if he hurts you again?"

"As long as I am feeble and making no attempts to regain control or expose him, he has no need to." You look up at him, expression unconvinced. "And he will not do anything in front of you."

You dip your chin downwards, a halfhearted nod. "I will not leave you." There's an earnestness there that rattles something inside of him. Your unflinching resolve to promise that you're there for him, that this is not his battle alone.

Aegon shifts forward, his body begging him to resume neutrality as he begins to pull you towards him. You're quick to respond, leaning into his touch. Aegon presses his lips against yours.

He's kissed you before--at your wedding, a few times during your handful of attempts at producing a child, and even less times during the day when particularly enjoying your company. But this is something else, something more desperate and meaningful. His lips drag against yours with less ease than he'd like, a dull ache nearly taking him out of the moment.

You pull back first, your breaths ragged as you look at him. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

It was not simple, but far from agonizing enough to make it unworthwhile. "Do not apologize for that." You nod without looking him in the eye. Aegon moves back, allowing his back to rest against cushioning. "Go have your ladies help change you into your night gown, and come back."

It's early for you to get ready for bed, but no one would find it strange. The two of you are married, which means you are welcome to spend as much time together as you'd like. Besides, Aegon likes the thought of you leaving now and not needing to go anywhere until morning.

You agree without question, moving away from him with a subtle nod. "I'll return in a moment."

You leave out of the door that connects his apartments to yours. Before he knows it, you're knocking on the door once before entering his space again. You seem a little lighter, hair brushed and face washed. You return to bed wordlessly, covering yourself with his sheets before resting your head against his shoulder.

Aegon's hand settles against your knee. "I walked a little longer with the maester today."

"That's wonderful," he can hear the smile in your voice. "I'd like to see that. Tomorrow I'll be here instead of sitting with the ladies."

The thought is easing. "I'll put on a good show for you."

"I'm sure you will." You place your hand over his. "I know that you said not to say anything, and it's a timing issue...but there has to be something we can do."

He turns over his hand, his fingers intertwining themselves with yours. "It would help weaken Aemond's claim if I were to have another, more evident heir."

The implications of the statement take you a moment to understand. Once you do, you squeeze his hand a little tighter. "Oh."

The few times the two of you had attempted to create an heir had been far from unenjoyable, just a little uncertain. After Lucerys's death, you were clearly and understandably not in the mood to be looked at a moment too long let alone touched. Aegon obliged you, and would be willing to keep leaving you to yourself if that's what you want.

"We could go back to trying to produce an heir," you mumble, body becoming a little more rigid against him.

He runs his thumb along your knuckles. "Really?"

"I mean, once you're healed enough to feel physically ready," you pause, a little unsure of yourself, "It seems a fitting course of action, and we are married."

He smiles to himself, lifting your hand to his lips. "We are."

----

a/n i'm leaving for my birthday trip tonight so if u liked this u should def send me aegon asks to come back to 🙏💗

Taglist: @dracaryxzs @callsignwidow @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @kazupop @hikaerys @froggyfrip @theargoblog @targaryenswhxre @woodlandwrites @familyshow-orisit @dinomecanico @forevercountingstars @bibli0thecary @magictrump @tempo-rary-fix @mrs-starkgaryen

#hotd #hotd x reader #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second x reader #aegon the second #aegon #aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #got

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dontbesoweirdkira · 22 days ago

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There's just so much potential for platonic !yan Tim Drake that isn't really explored. This post may flop but I like to imagine that yan! Tim Drake is actually the worse out of all his brothers...

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Look...you and i both know that Tim is canonically unhinged. But Batsis!reader doesn't. It's so easy for you to forget that your brother Tim is so dangerous. I mean he doesn't really seem all that different from any other nerdy 19 year old. His body doesn't loom over you like the more bulky of your brothers, and his presence is rather...calming? I mean there's still a bit of uneasiness there but it's so subtle that you can brush it off

He's normal when he interacts with you. He doesn't bug you to spend time with him or uncomfortably touch you like Dick does. He is sweet and gentle...He knows how you prefer to be engaged with and respects what you don't like.

But, that's what makes him so dangerous. He knows you. Every. Last. Detail. He's gotten so good at being a nasty little fly on the wall that sometimes you forget he's even in the room. He's always around you, observing and collecting data. He's got you wrapped around his fingers and you don't realize it.

But it's not your fault. It's hard to even imagine that someone as mellow as Tim could ever share the same traits as his brothers.

Yan! Tim fully picked up just how intuitive you are and how you can spot red flags easily. He's so calculated and careful with every interaction. It's amazing how natural he makes these conversations flow. Well, they better. He's spent hours analyzing and practicing how to speak to you. His heart is pounding with anticipation, as every shred of information you give him is going right into his files on you.

Oh! The files he has on you? When Jason and Dick asked him about how many he had, he said only 4. Which is true. but those 4 files have much more information and pictures of you than they could comprehend. ...and he wasn't accounting for the hard drives and physical stacks of papers he stole. I believe Tim knows more about you than you do. When was the last time you've seen your medical records? Passports? Birth certificate? Is your ID even in your wallet? Don't worry, your brother Tim is keeping them safe for you.

Yan! Tim is a little stalker who may or may not have put a tracking/listening devices in your bag so he can keep tabs on you. <33 That's why he's always wearing headphones so he cab listen in. A small piece of missed information could cost him so much. Don't be mad, batsis! He cannot risk making you suspicious of him by asking you invasive questions so this is the only way.

I Like to think you automatically sit by him. whether it be during breakfast, watching a movie or in the car. You feel safer with him and it's a better option in your head than being with Dick who will be overbearing. Tim always acts cool, even a little annoyed by you at times but inside he's screaming. Your scent, your small smiles at him and nudge his shoulders when he makes a funny remark all send him into overdrive.

But i must say, it's exhausting for him to hold back his obsession all of the time. Sometimes he envies his siblings and how shameless they are in their obsessions. Tim Drake thinks about how great it would to be to just be hugged by you or for you to want to fall asleep on him like you do with Jason.

Sometimes, our creepy detective will slip up. He will say or do something that is odd to you

"I cannot remember the name of that song i used to listen to...what was it.."

"It's this one by that local band, sis."

"oh, yeah! wait...how did you-"

"I know you better than i know myself..."

"...what?"

*an incident happened where dick basically forced you to say i love you back. Tim was there and he was so so jealous*

"You love me the most though, right?"

You laughed, thinking it was a joke\

"Sure, Tim. You are my favorite Robin."

*Tim is very visibly becoming feral. Almost in the same way as Dick and you are slightly alarmed*

"...I'm your favorite Robin? So you do love me more than them."

"0-o"

He repeats it over and over again in his mind. If he was recording it like he does with many of your interaction, it will be on instant replay every morning as an affirmation.

That one time you were chilling in the study with Tim. His head was ducked, low into the computer. It was super late by this time and you didn't really want to bother him so you ended up leaving without saying anything, and headed to your room. Tim was beyond hurt that you were breaking his version of bonding time and you had the audacity to not even announce your exit. He's so swift that it startled you when he grabbed your wrist from behind. His grip was....strong.... to say the least..... and he questioned why you were leaving him.

speaking of his strength, Tim is so skinny that you forget he is well trained with a nice bit of muscle. Maybe not as strong as his brothers or Bruce but he can easily subdue you.

He's definitely broken a lock or two, to get into your room at the dead of night and watch you sleep. This is the only time when he can be as fucked up as he wants to. The unhinged look in his eyes while going through your things and taking what's interesting..The adrenaline that you might catch him, excites him. He can't help but to sickly smile as he makes his way over to you and observes. A gentle hand caresses the sides of your face. You're so perfect. He whispers on and on things he wishes he could tell you while you were awake and wouldn't think it was weird....

Maybe even once he's crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. So happy to be able to finally be able to cuddle like this.

And if you happened to wake up, and realize your dear brother, Tim was there...he has a plan for that. He knows how to play mind games on you and makes you seem like the crazy one. No one would believe you anyways. The locks are all fixed by the morning.

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nicromancytarot · 9 months ago

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ALL ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE 18+ themes, lots of information!!

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

(This took me 3 days lmao, please like, follow and reblog)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to know about your future spouse, pick a pile to find out!!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1 (TW sexual abuse)

“I need to take time for myself” “let’s take this to the next level” “i don’t want anyone else”

Their appearance

I’m seeing lighter hair, light brown to a blonde-white, I’m seeing they may have muscles, or just a nicely toned body. It also looks like their back may be very prominent to their appearance, they may work out extra to achieve really nice back muscles. They could honestly have a large top half and skinny bottom half (Miguel O’Hara for example.) I’m seeing someone quite tall, they may have an interesting shaped head, like not in a bad way, it might just appear more prominently on them. For a guy, long third leg.. (They allowed me to say this one.) Possible big ears, or maybe even wears earrings or something to highlight them. The right side of their face is the best for them lmao, they might pose showing their right side for pictures.

About them

They‘ve have been through some hardships in their life, they’ve been fucked over pretty bad in the past, and while they don’t like to dwell on it, I wanted to bring it up. It’s seeming like they may have gone through sexual assault, I’m seeing that they used to appear quite sexualised in the past, something they did themself, however, someone close to them felt valid enough to abuse their power and cause harm to your partner through their self-expression. This hurt your partner a lot, they’re still healing, I’m heading “please take your time with me” when it comes to sex, they have some extreme vulnerability about it, they need you to understand that; they’re begging me not to sexualise them, and they’re asking you nicely to do the same, give them the respect that someone thought was ok to steal from them.

Due to this mass betrayal, they appear very closed off to new love, they have a lot of people that want them, and fawn over them, but this situation has completely made them turn a blind eye to those who see them. It will take you a while to crack this person open, however once you do, it will be more than worth it.

They will be very slow to start this connection with you, but once they are sure that you can be trusted, and they feel safe around you, they will set up camp by your side, and they don’t plan on leaving.

Their career

They’re very financially successful, but I see that this took them a while, I think they began building up financial abundance due to wanting their family to be there for them, and take notice in their achievements.

In work I think they may be underestimated, appearing as the lioness, I can only be reminded of the over glamorisation of lions, and the societal irrelevancy of lionesses, even though they do more for the lion population than the lion, as a collective do for themselves. Unfortunately this being said, I see they are idolised for their body, rather than their talents (I’m getting Sidney Sweeney, and Vinnie Hacker for this, both talented people, who are only seen as pieces of meat, or some type of chew toy.) Your person is really disrespected and it’s making me so mad, man. They’re trying their hardest to break out of the stereotype, however I feel as though there are colleges of theirs that constantly sexualise them, making them feel very uncomfortable. Again, I’m getting the same message as before, they are yearning for someone to treat them like a human being, and not just a vessel of sex organs.

Their family

Mentioned prior, they do not have the best relationship with their family, I think there’s some deep-rooted and ínstense trauma from possible childhood, I see they were the type of child to get all perfect grades to try and impress, and make their parents proud, however I don’t think it worked. Their parents seem very self focused and absorbed in their own life, and business.

They assumed that becoming even more successful, making a name for themself, earning masses of money would make their family proud, but it never worked.

They may have cut their family out of their life, or they are considering it. If they don’t decide to cut their family off, it most likely comes from hope and fear, they are scared that their family won’t notice all their biggest achievements if they cut them out, and they hope that eventually they will be able to achieve something big enough so their family is proud of them. They blame themself a lot for “not being enough” and not making them proud.

How they are in bed

I was not able to get much for this, but I do see that they need to really be able to trust you fully before getting into bed with you, they need a lot of time and reassurance, they really need you to understand their fears. The first time you guys have sex, you may unintentionally bring up some hidden wounds, they’re telling me to tell you not to worry, they’ll look into your eyes and it’ll be gone. They may need eye contact the first time, they need that constant reminder that it’s you, and that you won’t hurt them.

They gave me a few explicit messages, so for that I got

“Cum on your face”

“Make a sex tape” (I feel like they would burn this onto a hard drive and keep it in a place only they know about, only showing you if you asked them to.)

“Food play”

When I got these messages, I had a fan on so I needed to put the papers under something so they didn’t fly away, I unknowingly put them under the chariot card, so I’m really getting again that you will need to work for this. The chariot was also the only sexual illustration I got.

Another thing is that they don’t want you telling your friends about your guys sex lives, they don’t want more people to sexualise them.

They also may finish very fast the first time, this could be out of sensation since I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a very long time by the time you guys meet and start dating.

Their love language

Acts of service, they enjoy doing things for the people that they care about, unfortunately it seems this has stemmed from their neglecting childhood, they feel as though they must do something for someone to feel loved. They do not quite understand that love is not a give to receive, you may have to be the one to teach them this. Your future spouse only believe people will love them if they do something for that person in return.

Quality time, they like to be with the people they care about, i’m seeing two people sat in silence on some arm chairs, one person is resting their head on their arm while scrolling aimlessly on their phone, meanwhile the other is reading a book, holding it with one hand as the other plays with the hand belonging to their counterpart, their fingers tracing the skin of their lover’s hand gently, fingers only just intertwining.

Their shadows

Your future spouse does not see their own self worth, they do not value themself as a person, or even a creator, whatever they do in life, they are a very creative and diverse person, yet they don’t feel that way. It’s as if they suffer from imposter syndrome, they never feel worthy of their achievements, because no one ever made them feel as though their success mattered.

They can be very closed off with their feelings, they become resentful towards their emotions and just wish they could rip the feelings from their body. They may say things they don’t mean in the moment, mostly because they don’t feel worthy of your love, but as soon as they realise what they have done, they will bring you to their chest and hug you tightly.

This reaction will never escalate further than a shout of anger.

I sense they might refuse therapy, you may have a lot of arguments about this, they try to tell themself that they do not need therapy, but this is mainly because they fear they will be laughed at, for coming to this person with trauma that even they struggle to understand, even after having gone through it. I would encourage you to try your best to get them to go to therapy, maybe even both of you together so you can get to know each other on a more intimate level.

Please be gentle with them my pile 1, they are truly a blessing of a soul.

PILE 2

“I’m not ready” “you’re too good for me” “let’s take this to the next level” (you may have been attracted to pile 1, if so maybe go check it out.)

Their appearance

Lighter hair, for a select few of you, it’s black. I think they might have longer hair, and like to wear it up, or they enjoy covering their head with a hat or other accessories. I’m getting medium height, maybe even shorter than you, or possibly only a little taller than you. I think they enjoy dressing more provocative, perhaps having shirt buttons undone, or just not wearing a shirt at all, they really like their body, and they know they have a good one. If they have abs, I would say they are there but quite faint, not toned, just enough to show. Their hair could be curly, or it’s just the first thing you notice when you meet them. I’m getting pirate vibes, they might dress up more like a pirate honestly, buttoned down blouses, a bandana on their head, their hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The area of their nose, lips, philtrum, and chin is very prominent, a main focal point on their face. Their eyes make them look tired and drunk, the classic sleepy eyes. They may wear a lot of jewellery, specifically gold. Their skin seems more into the tanner tones for the dark haired individuals, they may be part of the latino/a community. For the people with lighter hair, I see they could be based around Europe.

About them

I hate fuelling delusions like this, but multiple cards are pointing to this person being an ex, it seems like they had your heart at one point and came back for more, after having messed up the first time. They do seem very remorseful for their previous mistakes, they want you to know that they were naive and selfish, they didn’t know how to treasure something as important, and valuable as your love, however they want you to know that they are ready now. I see they could have cheated on you in the past, left you for another person, or just been toxic with you, and just treated you badly. Please take in mind that I do not want you to get back with any super shitty ex, you have free will so don’t do that, however I do think this person has changed for the better. With the chariot, and hanged man, I’m seeing they worked on themself to be able to be good for you, it may have taken them a few years.

For those of you who’s future spouse is not an ex, I would say that the first time you guys met, there was a sense of competition and it turned you completely off from them, or they just came across rude, and arrogant while trying to impress you, and you just weren’t feeling it. They’re coming back around to show you how serious they actually are about making this relationship with you work. They will need some time, one sided enemies to lovers lmao.

Their career

I feel as though they have a good amount of material wealth, they seem to have everything they could desire, they could be a little bit of a workaholic, which possibly can cause some drama between you, you will need to remind them of how important spending time together is, they will listen, they are always willing to compromise with you.

Their job is one filled with a lot of competition, I’m honestly getting technology, they could work with technology, they could be under a tech company position, or maybe they even work from home doing their own thing on their computer.

They can appear secretive when it comes to their job, they’re not trying to keep it a secret, or hidden from you, they simply just don’t really think to talk about it that much. Lowkey, they could be a moderator for some type of famous streamer, (lmao??) or they could work in a position where they help people with managing publicity, like an agent or something.

This job does seem interesting, but it does come across a little like they do it more so for the money, than for an actual enjoyment that they find. Some of them do enjoy their job, but I don’t think they would stick with it, if it didn’t offer them the money and exposure that it does.

Their family

I honestly feel like it was their family’s influence that got them to start working on themself, I get the sense that their mother was possibly the one to force them into therapy, she may have even sat through his first session lol.

I think he’s mainly closest to the woman in his family, I’m getting a close friendship with their 1-2 sisters, possibly older, rather than younger. Im getting that they see them a little puppy that needs training, if you guys get into an argument, and they go to their sisters, the oldest one would be quick to correct your future spouse on their mistakes, and convince them to talk to you again and apologise for whatever they did.

Their family love you, if it’s a second chance scenario, they are so happy that you guys get another chance at loving each other, they truly want you to stay part of their family.

I’m seeing a young girl, possibly around the age of 5-6, you will be very close to her, I’m feeling it’s a niece or cousin, who is constantly around when you visit the rest of the family.

How they are in bed

They honestly appear quite vanilla, all bark no bite to be honest, they will say the flirtiest things to you, and they appear quite sexual, but once you get into the bedroom, they become all shy and reserved, there is a potential for you to bring them out of their shell however.

I’m seeing that sex for them is more-so about their own pleasure, they can seem a bit selfish during sex because of this, they may also see it as a way to compete with others, I’m hearing “I have them in a way that no one else ever will,” they may deal with a little bit of jealousy when it comes to your relationship, they are you as a very desired person, so they worry that someone will steal you away from them, being intimate with you is like proof to them that you are there’s and no one else could have you in such a compromising position.

They may finish really fast, I’m seeing someone who is struggling to keep their attraction in, the way your eyes penetrate into theirs will have them a stuttering mess, unexpectedly pushing them to their climax, though I feel like you will be nowhere near your own. You may need to help them with how to pleasure you, so you also reach your destination!

They could be a virgin, they don’t seem very experienced, they may have even waited for marriage, so this could be the night of your wedding.

They’re on top, it makes them feel more masculine and in charge of the situation, I also think they need to be able to pick their own pace to make sure they don’t overwhelm themself the first time.

They will be bursting with anticipation every time you initiate something with them.

They may have a desire to watch you touch yourself, they know about the important places of pleasure for people of your gender, however they don’t know exactly how to treat those places, so they may ask you to touch yourself to show them, this could lead to an intense session of mutual masterbation, for the select few of you, this will come before your wedding, they’ll ask you about how they should pleasure you on your wedding night, and you will show them, they will get into the mood as well and join you in the bed, this will almost make them cave in and take you there and then.

“Pull my hair”

“You make me so hard/wet”

“Let me taste”

Their open to whatever you’re into, just give them time to adjust to the new sensations of sex first, before you spring any random kinks onto them.

Their love language

Physical touch, they enjoy being around you and putting their hands on you at any chance they get, they like to hold your hand, to wrap their arms around your waist, they just like how you feel under their touch, if they feel like they’re working too much, they will invite you to sit with them, possibly on their lap so they can have you with them.

They like their bare skin to touch yours, I don’t think they sleep with much on, maybe shirtless with a pair of underwear, they will press their front of your back, making sure their bare chest hits your bare back, and back of shoulders.

Gift giving, they like to buy you things, I think it’s in a way of trying to make up for how they treated you in the past, they use their money to prove to you how serious they are about you and their relationship with you, they’re very possessive of their material wealth, so sharing it with you is something massive, and unexpected. If you see something in the store window, they’ll notice you even as much as glanced at it, and they will make sure it belongs to you in no time.

Their shadows

Their can appear a little selfish at times, I think they’ve had to protect and defend themself all their life, so now they feel as though shutting people out and not letting them in is the best answer to cure and keep away any upcoming insecurities.

Your future spouse needs to lose things to understand how much they actually mean to them, they don’t appreciate things enough until it’s taking away from them, luckily for them, they tend to work hard enough to manage to get this back, ensuring that it will never be taken away again.

Their downplay their transformations, they don’t exaggerate, but honestly the complete opposite, they feel as though their past and their future and two completely different identities, they need constant reminders that their success is still their success, no matter how long ago it was.

PILE 3

“I don’t want anyone else” “do you feel the same?” “you’re the only one I want in my life” (again, you could’ve also been attracted to pile 1, I wouldn’t recommend going back up however, I think it may have been the warning that caught your eye rather than the pile itself!)

Their appearance

I’m getting chestnut brown, to black hair, for a woman, it’s casts down her back, quite long. For a man, It’s around medium length, maybe just above their shoulders. Their back is very prominent in this pile, I feel like they have nicely defined back muscles, however I do not think they are an incredibly muscular person. They could honestly dress more punk/emo, wearing black leather jackets which are decorated, and bedazzled with silver spikes, I do see a possibility for a more alternative style for men, feminine outifts for women, types of styles that accentuates their hips and bust.

They might like going outside a lot, they’d be the type to suggest a camping trip, so they wear clothes that are suitable, and durable for being outside for extended periods of time. Big black boots is another thing I’m getting, their hair could also be spiked up for a select few of you. (I’m honestly picking up Johnnie Gilbert similarities for this pile, maybe Johnnie’s future wife is watching, and they just don’t know, that’s crazy.)

About them

They know better than to overwork themself, they may be the type that needs to mentally recharge after being around people for too long, they also seem to take in a lot of energy when around people, they’re like a little portable charger, however this does mean that they get burnt out very quickly. Luckily, they are not one to ignore the signals of their body and mind, so if they need to rest and be alone for a little, they will do that, this can however make them appear a tad aloof.

I don’t think they’re the best at expressing their emotions, they keep them hidden for a reason, I believe out of fear of judgment, or getting hurt again. I’m seeing someone who may have been cheated on by an ex partner, I don’t imagine they got closure on whatever this situation was, if it wasn’t cheating, it was some type of intense betrayal. They may appear a bit condescending at times, this is their way of trying to push you away before you find out about their feelings, they weirdly think you will leave them or condemn them for showing any natural, human emotion.

Their hardworking in all areas of their life, mainly self improvement, they want to become the best version of themself, so their partner can be comfortable with them. I do see that they will have a dramatic change of circumstance, or just who they are as a person, around the time that they meet you, which would be done for you, or for some of you, they will improve themself right before you guys meet, this change in their life will bring you to them.

Their career

They have a job where their workload and work time is flexible, they have the ability to not work one day, and pick up the work the next day if they so please. This is good because it means they will be making sure they always have time for you, to make you feel appreciated.

Their job is focused around nurturing responsibility, they are a leader of their area, but not a leader overall, they may have some type of job where they have to be a role model for people of a younger age, mild fame or influencing is showing strongly (bro which one of you are Johnnie’s wife, this is getting too specific.)

The job brings in a lot of material abundance, I don’t see they have to worry about too much, other than understanding that their work can be overwhelming, and that they need to pace themself, allowing themself to take breaks is super important with this pile.

It’s a job that offers them long term stability, and more money with the higher their position gets, if this person is mildly famous, or some type of influencer, the more fame and fans they gain, the more money they will be raking in, however they do need to remember where their loyalties lie, and always make sure to appreciate the fandom that gave them what they have now.

Their family

Their family are so different from them lmao, like polar opposites, I’m seeing the sweetest mother who always makes baked goods, sometimes they can appear a little interesting, but taste good nonetheless. Their father calls them by a nickname which your future spouse hates, their father is really sweet, I’m getting someone a little more laidback, who would rub your partners hair to mess it up for absolutely no reason.

You will feel very welcome into this family, they do not discriminate since their son/daughter/child has gone through some intense stuff in their life, and they are just thankful that you are able to bring them security, and safety, your person could’ve struggled badly with mental health, and it may have worried their family, so their parents are super happy that you’re able to keep them happy. However, please remember that someone’s mental health is not your responsibility solely.

How they are in bed

I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a while before you guys got together, I think they may have done some type of sexual cleanse, they were possibly a fuck boy/girl in the past, so they quit it to help themself improve and be the best version of themself.

They may need a little while to really get ready to be intimate with you, it might come as a conversation that the two of you share, explaining that you would like to have sex with them, and them setting a date for it so nothing can go wrong. I see them prepping by shaving their entire body lmao, they’re going all out, if it’s a man, they’re going to get so many cuts in all the wrong places, and they will definitely complain about it to you. They do expect you to be as prepared as they are, so get yourself ready, find yourself a nice, new perfume and get to it.

I do not think they will have sex with you outside of the relationship, I feel as though they have so many sexual requests from people, it makes them feel only valuable for their body, they don’t want to be seen as just a warm body that you get to lay under, the first time you are intimate with them. You have to prove yourself before sex, and even then, it may take a while. I’m getting around eight to ten months after dating, they really don’t want to be fooled and used for their body, especially after their sexual cleanse.

They like to be on top, they may honestly end up sweating and shivering at the end of it, like that one scene from Titanic when Jack is shaking in the carriage while laying on top of Rose with a blanket.

The sex will get progressively more rough and interesting over time, but the first time is just pure love making.

“Look into my eyes”

“Fuck you silly”

“Tie you up”

I’m getting that they will need aftercare more than you will, while both of you will be giving it to each other, they are a lot more in need of it, I feel like you would be fine to just go into the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, meanwhile they desire to be in your arms for the next couple of hours.

Their love language

Physical touch, they need to be at least holding your hand at all times, they would lowkey like to wear a lipstick stain you created on their cheek or jaw, they like people to know that you are theirs, and they are yours. They may also really like when you give them hickeys, they will absolutely allow those to be on show for everyone to see, they are too proud to hide them. They like to hold your stomach? Perhaps it’s when you sleep, they like to rest their hand on your stomach, or perhaps they want to get you pregnant, they may be very serious about having kids sometime in the future.

Words of affirmation, they really appreciate when you tell them how good they look, or how the outfit they’re wearing is amazing on their body. They specifically enjoy your compliments, you have a way with explaining things, that makes it seem so much more authentic and honest, they trust your judgment a lot. I do see they have a tendency to feel very insecure, and although so many people tell them how beautiful they are, your future spouse struggles to believe them, thinking it’s some kind of sick joke, but they know you would never joke or make fun of them about that. You’ll be very surprised to find out about their insecurities, you may even think they’re playing with you the first time they mention it, this could make them feel invalidated, so be careful how you tackle this!

Their shadows

They constantly ignore their problems, they have an “out of sight, out of mind” way of thinking, which is just barbaric because it means they don’t sort through their issues and instead push them out of the way. You may need to help them with healing from some past trauma, and realising that they are allowed to feel hurt and anger from those past situations, as they were not at all ideal.

Your future spouse is quick to push people away when they feel as though they’ve said too much, and opened up more than they desired to, due to this, there may be a few times when you feel helpless, and they seem helpless, this is something you can work through together.

They get very defensive, very quickly, if you say something that unintentionally triggers them, they will shut off, going into some type of hermit mode until they feel ready to talk about whatever it is that bothered them.

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