#yeah spirits and mediums and whatever

[oldtvandcomics]

I think I have identified one of the best things ever

Historic horror. The monsters are fictional, but the true horror is in the society. All the atrocities described really happened, the horror elements just heighten it. Queer protagonists with intersecting marginalized identities, also chosen to highlight the horror.

I want more. I need more. Does anyone know more books like these two?

[misshugs]

The elevator game || Colby Brock x Reader

[req by anon] You knew you were sensitive to the other side, but you didn't expect a silly little game from the internet to give you this much of an impact.

warnings: cursing, paranormal activity, reader getting (slightly) attacked by ghosts, sensitive/medium!reader, degrading, angst? still not sure what the meaning of it is tbh

a/n: this is my first request ever, i hope i didn't let you down dear anon. Concept based on this video

word count: 2.5k (not proofread)

[u n e d i t e d]

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"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby screamed towards the camera, as always.

"Today we are here at the Driskill Hotel, also known as the most haunted hotel here in Texas." Sam continues.

"We're here to figure out why this place is so haunted and what message the ghosts here wanna tell the people. And for this video guys, we have a very special someone!" Colby says, moving to the side so that you're visible to the camera.

Waving at it and smiling, you were greeted by Colby's hands wrapped around your shoulders. "Thank you, thank you. Hello, dear people. It is I." They laugh.

"How are you feeling about this? Are you excited?" Sam asks, putting the camera on the both of you.

"I am! The place is HUGE and honestly, just looks so good!"

"Right?? When we got in it was just like a burst of shock at how gorgeous this place is." Sam said and Colby nodded.

"If it weren't haunted I'd probably come here more often, but I can already feel all of these... energies walking around, I wouldn't last too long."

"Oh, right. For anybody that doesn't know, Y/n is actually a bit of medium?" Colby asks while looking at you, making you nod. "Yeah, so she's sensitive to like the energy of shadow figures and things like that, so maybe we'll get to experience something interesting tonight!"

"I'd say hopefully not but that wouldn't make it fun I guess." You laugh and so do they while you explain it is a pain in the ass to feel those things constantly. "It is almost as if you're constantly paranoid about someone looking at you, y'know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Colby noded.

"Yeah so that, but those stares are more physical than anything, there are times where I can feel people walking behind me and when I look back, there's no one."

"I can just imagine how creepy that must feel." Sam said and you chuckled.

"Oh yeah. You have no idea." You smiled.

"Well then, shall we begin the investigation?" Colby asked you, smiling. You quickly smiled back.

"Of course." You kissed him softly before Sam could even turn off the camera.

"Oh, gross man. I'll have to edit that out." He said jokingly and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"But seriously though, let's keep it moving." You said and they agreed.

Walking around, there were a few pieces of lore they had to explain to you beforehand. About the one and only Driskill who created the hotel, about the little girl that broke her neck, so on and so forth.

There were times when you had this eerie feeling of constantly being followed, so you kept your arms interlocked with Colby's.

"You're doing okay so far?" He asked, cautiously caressing your hand. You nodded.

"Yeah, just feel like we're being followed." You replied, looking back where there was no one there.

"Really??" Sam asked, looking back as well but seeing nothing. "Do you think we caught a ghost's interest?"

"I mean, probably. There is a difference in between someone that's coming just for the hotel part and us, that are investigating and directly needing their intervention. We're making them curious."

"Well, for whatever spirit that might be following us, you're welcome to answer our questions later on tonight." Colby said loud enough for anything around to listen to it.

Honestly, even those small gestures made you so madly in love with him. The way he touches you softly just for you to make sure you're not alone and he's here for you is such a warming feeling.

Wilst looking around the current room, Colby walked up to a random closed door and tried to walk through.

"She said no closed doors!" Sam exclaimed, probably talking about the tour guide's rules of the place.

"Unless it's... unlocked." Colby responded, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Oop, it's Jim Hogg's room." You said, looking up.

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, it says its name on the top." You point up and they just laughed at the comment. I mean, what were they expecting? You had no idea about whatever story roams around these halls asides from the two main ones they've explained.

"Also I don't think you should be trying even more, like if it's hard to go in it's probably because you're not supposed to."

"We have a bad reputation of breaking into places." Sam admitted and you smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I remember that." You chuckle and hold Colby's hand to pull away from the door.

As they kept on chatting and making interesting comments here and there, you found the elevator and pointed it out. "Oh, is this the one?" Colby asked Sam and he just gave him a stare.

"This is the one what?" You ask and they look at eachother.

Sam sighed. "We were going to keep it until the time came, but we may have a little challenge for tonight that has to do with the elevator."

"Ooooh sounds fun. I wanna do it." You smile.

"You sure?? You have to be by yourself." Colby asked, worried but amused.

"Do you think I can't do this, Mr. Brock? That's offensive." You spat, crossing your hands around your chest.

"No! I meant-" He tried to explain, but you quickly interrupted.

"Cancelled, I tell you. Cancelled!" You look away with your eyes closed, trying not to laugh at the stupid situation unfolding.

"Great." You heard him sigh in defeat as Sam started laughing at the both of you. Looking back with a smile on your face, you hugged him.

"Alright, let's get going already." You giggled, gaining a kiss on the top of your head from your boyfriend.

Walking inside the elevator, it almost felt as if it quickly went down in an unnatural way.

"Did you guys feel like... the elevator dropping three inches?"

"Yeah, kinda of." Sam said.

"Three inches is a lot." Colby replied.

"Three inches is huge." Sam continued.

"I can vouch." You said.

"Mass..." Colby began talking but couldn't hold in the laugh after you said that.

Going back to the main lobby, you all reached out to a girl that was apparently the tourguide. She quickly explained the story of the place, how it ended up being the renouned hotel it came to be.

When she explained that the smell of cigar was one of the main ways Driskill manifested, your eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

"No, did you smell it before?" She asked.

"I did! But it was like, close to the entrance so I thought that maybe someone was smoking. I did find it rare because it was just a glimpse of it for like a solid second and then gone." You explained, making the girl smile.

"Well, that was him."

"No way." Colby said, smiling at you.

"Yup." She nodded, continuing to explain as you all started walking back to the elevator. Going inside, the door closed only to be opened again. "Oh?"

"Did we just pressed five and went to one? It's haunted!" Sam exclaimed.

"That was weird." Colby said, looking at the door.

"It was, that was so weird." The guide said, trying to close the door once again, only for it to open again.

"Does it do that often?" You asked and she shook her head.

"No! It doesn't." She walked back out and talked to someone from out side. "Are you fucking with us?"

"That's so strange- oh, I hit it." You whispered. The guide came back in.

"But you see it, right? I'm pressing five and it like start to go up but then it stops." The door closes once again, only for them to open.

"Oh my god." Sam said, whispering.

"And we're doing a challenge here?" You asked confused, making them laugh.

"Not here exactly." Colby smiled.

"Lemme- I'll go out." You said, walking out of the elevator, watching as the doors began to close, only for them to open once again. "Oh no, that's- that's a malfunction alright."

"And you said it, these malfuction all the time." Colby said to the guide as they walked out of the elevator.

When Sam did it by himself, it started working all over again.

"What the fuck??" Colby yelled.

"Are we like fat? Is it fat shaming us?" You whined, making everyone laugh.

And so, even though your night barely started, you were already having some activity to say the least.

And it kept being that way all night. Constant responses from spirits, intelligent ones at that. The little girl, the woman from the vortex room... all the way down to the challenge you've been anticipating the whole night round.

The elevator challenge.

"I think it might be just me but every single time we pass through this side of the hotel I feel like actually throwing up."

"Wait, really?" Colby asked, worried.

"Like an eerie feeling more than anything, almost like I'm kinda feeling a bit dizzy whenever we pass through here."

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can still back out, or I could go in with you." Colby tried to make you change your mind, but you were settled in it.

"No, I have to do it alone. What if it doesn't work because we're together? You're not gonna let me do this right?"

"I do! I'm just worried." Colby admitted, making you smile.

"You cutie. I love you so much." You said, smiling at him and cupping his face before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Y'all are gonna make me puke, another part I'm gonna have to cut out." Sam joked, making you giggle.

"Alright, alright. So, how does this work?" You ask, hugging yourself as you wait for instructions.

It was a simple game. Supposedly, you had to hit the buttons of the elevator in a specific order. In the last one, you had to invite in a lady. If the ritual worked, you were supposed to start going up into another world. If it didn't, well, nothing happened and it failed.

"So... I'm about to get isekai'd? We're going to an anime, brothers." You laughed at your own joke while they handed you your camera.

"I send you the order, just in case." Sam continued, and you nodded.

"Thank you, 'cause I already forgot." You turned on your phone as well as the camera and walked in.

"Any last words?" Colby asked cheekishly, making you smile.

"See you in the other side." You answered, before the door closed. You sighed, putting the camera up to your face. "Alright, so... I'm supposed to hit this one first." Switching the camera back to the buttons, you hit the number four.

It began moving. "Oh, good. It would've been a mess if it already fucked up. Alright..." You sighed. "I didn't told them this, but I do find the thought of getting stuck in an elevator horrifying. I just agreed because maybe it might help me out, but it doesn't work the fact that I can feel so many spirits around this area specifically every time we walk past it." You explain before getting on the next floor, touching the next button.

Back down on the lobby, Sam and Colby were talking.

"I didn't want her to do it, honestly. I was gonna do it myself." Sam said.

"Right? She's our guest too, what if something happens to her? That would be the death of me."

"Don't jinx it, brother. She'll be alright."

Boy they were wrong.

Halfway through, your vision started to get blurry, your legs were shaky and you couldn't brush off the feeling of pressure on your chest. It was starting to make you nervous, even more so the fact you were alone.

You started thinking to yourself. What if something really did happen? What if you summon something your body couldn't handle? What if it really did send you to another world?

It happened so quickly, that you have already reached the last floor before you knew it. Gulping down your dry throat, you began to speak. "Alright, if there's something... out... oh fuck." Your vision got blurry and you could feel an inmense ammout of power flushing through the elevator doors even before it opened up.

You couldn't hold it together, it was too much for you to handle as you were suspecting before. Although you tried to stay up, your legs couldn't hold your weight up anymore and you passed out, falling down to the floor, hitting your head strongly onto the hard floor of the elevator.

Luckily, the ritual didn't work. It began going down and the guys, mainly Colby, were anxiously waiting for the doors to open. When they did, their faces fell.

Colby screamed out your name, quickly rushing in and holding your head. "Love?? Sweetheart, what happened? Wake up, please. Oh God." He began shaking, carrying you outside of the elevator so that it was slightly more comfortable.

"What happened? Oh my fucking God." Sam whispered, grabbing your camera from the elevator's floor and walking out.

"She's not responding, Sam." Colby nervously said, making sure you were at least still alive.

You were.

"Should I call an ambulance or something?" Sam asked. "Oh, no. I have the keys with me."

"Let's take her to the hospital, quickly." He lifted you up from the floor and hurriedly got out of the building and to the hospital.

You were alright, luckily. It seemes you have just fainted, but you falling down to the floor and hitting your head so hard made it a bit more complicated than what it had to be.

Colby felt bad, horrible even to think that this could've happened to you.

He should've been more careful, he should've known you were too sensitive to all of these energies so that you would go alone and out to make something so nerve racking. He should've been more insisting, rather than going with the flow merely because of a video.

He let his love have that type of experience because of a mere video.

It devastared him. Made him feel absolutely awful about it. While waiting for you to wake up, he kept on downgrading himself thinking about how he's the worst possible boyfriend.

It all stops when you finally wake up. Looking around the white room, confused.

"What happened?"

"It looks like you fainted... I'm so sorry for letting you do that all by yourself, I should've stopped you, I should've at least gone with you, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that because-"

"Love. Love!" You held his cheeks softly, making him quietly stop ranting, you smiled. "You know I wanted to do it, I was the stupid one for forgetting that big energy rafts can affect me a lot, I'm so sorry baby." You kissed his nose, reassuring him everything was alright.

And honestly, he needed to hear it. From you, specifically. Sam was trying to make him calm down but it didn't really work. It had to be you, your voice, your smile.

The one thing that made him whole all over again.

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I MAY HAVE DONE TOO MUCH FILLER FOR NO GODDAMN REASON- also hoping that dear anon liked it-

thank you for reading, loves~! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

[mosneakers]

Granite Falls, 6 Months After Election Night

Alex Hart, Lead Documentarian: You’ve just been through so much these past few months. Your strength… it’s really moving. Sorry—I’m getting a bit emotional here, as you can probably tell, heh.

Coraleye: [giggles softly, attempting to lighten the mood] I bet it’s just the charm of the great outdoors! Camping has a way of casting a spell on you, doesn’t it? Makes all your senses feel so heightened!

Cameron Rai, Camera Technician: [Squinting against the sun] Great segue— now can we keep it pushing before the sunset wrecks our lighting?

Alex: Right. While we're on the subject, could you please explain how we managed to interview Erwin for this film, given the horrific incident that happened six months ago? Coraleye: Oh, since you asked like such a perfect gentleman, I can do you one better—how 'bout I show you instead?

Coraleye smiles gently at Erwin and begins her spell. "Goodbye for now, buddy.” she whispers, brushing away an emerging tear from her eye before it has the chance to fall. “Until next time.” In a whirlwind of sparkles and light, Erwin's image fades away right before their eyes.

Alex: [Shakes head in bewilderment] Incredible. So that wasn't the real Erwin, right?

Coraleye: [Chuckles] Nope, not really! I’ve put my own little twist on a classic untamed magic spell —Duplicato.

Alex: I'm only clarifying because in the time I've gotten to know you, you've mentioned that you're an experienced medium, as well. Correct me if I'm wrong, but we weren't speaking to Erwin's spirit or anything, right?

Coraleye: No... we did attempt a séance once and sadly, it seems he may have died too far away for any of us to be able to connect to his spirit. [Face reddening, eyes beginning to well with tears] Although I'd like to think I captured the essence of his spirit pretty accurately. But this spell is essentially just a magical hologram created from my memories of him.

Alex: We really appreciate you sharing him with us today, it's truly such an honor. Just to reiterate for our viewers, are you still completely comfortable with this? Your comfort is very important to us. I can imagine this must be extremely challenging for you.

Coraleye's shoulders slumped, and a frown clouded her expression, as she battled the urge to cry. The thought of Tycho watching this documentary strengthened her resolve—she refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing her cry again.

Coraleye: No worries, I promise. I think it'll be good for the movie. I want people to see Erwin the way we did. Sure, it can be emotionally taxing, but I don’t do this spell often—and when I do, I actually find it to be so healing. [Smiles after long pause] — But yeah, anyway, thanks for the support, Alex... you've been really great.

Alex: [Softly] You’re really something else, Coraleye. I can’t imagine how hard this must be, but you’re handling it with so much grace. You know, it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. If you need a moment… [Opens his arms slightly]

Coraleye laughs and accepts his subtle invitation for an embrace, easing herself into Alex's arms. Not expecting that familiar flutter that she's been dodging for months now to come creeping its way back into the pit of her stomach, she buries it deep down for now. But Coraleye knows she's a Darling, and when it comes to love, that's one curse that never stays dead.

Cam: Yeah, cool, I think we got the shot now.

[elvisqueso]

Pocahontas (1995): 3 times Pocahontas is compared to her mother + 1 time she's recognized on her own merits.

rambling lil meta under the cut

see, what's crazy about this whole situation is that it makes me wonder what exactly pocahontas's mom was like to have left such a massive impression on literally everyone in their community? there's that outright statement that "yeah, your mom's spirit is in the wind, basically, and our people venerate her as a spiritual guide (at the very least)." we know that she's the main connection between pocahontas and grandmother willow, and there's an implication in there that whatever leadership role she held in the village is expected to fall on pocahontas's shoulders someday.

i am so convinced that this role is some kind of spiritual leader/shaman position. wise-woman, priestess, whatever it's called. we don't see anyone else besides kekata performing any kind of spiritual rites, and even he isn't seen acting in direct contact with spiritual entities. kekata has to perform chants, provide offerings, and use a medium. pocahontas can just fuckign. talk to the things. how is she doing that? why isn't anyone else really able to do that? john smith could talk with grandmother willow but would he be able to if pocahontas wasn't there (i actually think he could but that's a different post)? has she ever done that for literally anybody else? nakoma never mentions grandmother willow. nobody mentions grandmother willow. apparently, the only two people who knew about her before pocahontas brought her new bf over was pocahontas and her mom.

i'm losing track of myself here, but the point is pocahontas is Highly aware of the ghost she's expected to live up to. and it sucks. and there's a lot more to her character arc about this but the eventual come-around to accepting that she has a responsibility to be more than herself and more than her mother's ghost is so heartbreaking because it also meant she had to let go of her soulmate at the same time so i c ry

[dinneronvenus]

Doesn’t Matter Now

⭑ Gojo x fem reader

⭑ inspired by the song “doesn’t matter now” by flyingfish (listen to that while you read for max effect)

⭑ tags: ANGST ON 100, description of a jujutsu technique that forfeits the sorcerer’s life, death, a funeral, a hopeless and depressed Gojo goes to a medium, hinted reincarnation

⭑ synopsis: Gojo already lost his only true friend, so he never thought losing a woman could hurt him so badly

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Gojo. You didn’t even know.” Utahime spoke softly, her own pain wanting to break through in her voice. “Nobody did.”

Gojo remained silent, eyes glazed over, a cocktail of negative emotions mixing in his mind. He couldn’t even look at Utahime, whose outfit would remind him of you. They stood in the ruins of the shrine your family had built and ran for generations. It had come under attack by many cursed spirits and you had fulfilled your duty to protect the people who lived and worked there, as well as its secrets. With everyone else safe, it would be rebuilt and restored to its original glory, something that should have been a silver lining.

“It is not uncommon for a high priestess to give her life for her people.” Utahime said, voice breaking at the end. This brought Gojo even less comfort.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I hadn’t heard her say those exact words to me before?!” He snapped, still not able to take his eyes off the scene in front of him. It was Utahime’s turn to stay silent.

In the middle of the leveled temple, there was the evidence of your bravery. A set of heavy stone doors bearing an ancient inscription, left open by whatever you had summoned to walk through them, loomed over the two sorcerers. Gojo already knew they’d be used as a gate to honor your memory and remember your sacrifice. His eyes begged to see any scrap of you in the rubble. Maybe this was just a trick, and you were hiding behind one of the doors.

“What could her technique have been to have killed her in the process?” He whispered to the open air, not thinking anyone could’ve heard him.

“Gehenna Gate, it is a technique with the highest of costs,” A raspy voice broke the unbearable quiet. It was your mother, who despite everything, managed to keep a small smile on her face for your surviving friends. “I am sorry she never told you that properly. She wanted to protect you, in her own way.” Her hand came down on Gojo’s shoulder and the kindness in her touch almost burned him alive.

“I didn’t… I wish she…” Gojo stuttered out, hot tears stinging his eyes. Your mother pulled him into a hug, shushing him like a child.

Five days later, your funeral was to be held at your family cemetery in the mountains overlooking the temple. Gojo had no idea how he would survive that. He spent the time until your funeral looking for someone who could communicate with the dead. Thanks to his power and connections, he found one the night before and prepared himself to have one last conversation with you.

“Welcome, sir. I assume you’re here to see Mistress Takemi?” The young man spoke just loud enough to be heard over the jingle of the bell from the door shutting behind him.

“Yeah, and she knows already so I’m just gonna head back there,” Gojo sauntered through the foyer and down the hall to the back room where a woman in black and purple robes standing over a large glass table was waiting on him.

“Welcome Satoru,” she spoke cheerfully with a deep voice that echoed her years of life.

“Don’t call me that. Can we get started?” The overly familiar attitude irked him. The woman cleared her throat and dropped her cheerful act.

“I suppose we can get right to it then.”

The woman had a technique that essentially made her into a human ouija board. Her hands rested on the glass table and it began to glow a soft greenish-blue. Gojo could see the dark circles and puffiness of his eyes in the reflection, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for being this unable to accept that you were gone.

“Satoru?” His name again, but this time he could hear your voice mixing with Takemi’s voice. He said your name in disbelief, tears of joy in his eyes.

“Yes, yes! It’s me, I wa—”

“You can’t do this, Satoru. It’s against the laws.”

“Please, don’t tell me that right now. You hid so much from me, please just let me ask you one thing.”

Silence. Fearing he’d miss his chance, he went ahead with his question.

“Did you ever really love me?” The depth of sadness and desperation in his voice was unbearable to you, even in your disembodied state. “Why couldn’t you have told me? I could’ve helped you, I would’ve done anything to have saved you.”

“In the mountains where they’ll bury me, follow a trail that begins with pink and white flowers. You’ll find everything you want to know at the end. Goodbye, Satoru.”

“No, no, no,” He wiped the tears from his face and gripped both of Takemi’s shoulders, shouting. “Please come back! I can’t do this again!”

Regaining full control of herself, Takemi pushed Gojo off her and had him escorted out of her shop. The whole world was one hideous shade of grey. He walked for a while with no destination in mind but the grave. He wanted to go find that trail right now but he didn’t have anything else left in him. He wanted to sleep for the rest of his life. Returning home, he set his alarm and went to bed with your instructions in mind.

Utahime and Gojo walked with each other up the mountain to the funeral site. Utahime thought it was odd but refreshing to see him dressed in more traditional clothing. Just one more thing that only you could get him to do.

Everyone took their places, and your father stepped up to the podium. “We are gathered here to send our beloved high priestess to her place of final rest with her ancestors…”

Once the funeral was complete, no one but Gojo, Utahime and your mother lingered too long.

“I’m sorry again for your loss, ma’am.” Utahime said, bowing deeply. Your mother gave her another one of those wise, otherworldly smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve really lost her.” She said before taking a last look around the cemetery and turning to leave. “Why don’t we give him some space?” She motioned to Gojo and Utahime followed her.

Now alone with your memory and your ghost, Gojo began to look for this trail you had mentioned. It took him a while to find it but when he did, his path to the end was quick. It led to a small clearing where the grass was lush, and he was consumed by the smell of many different kinds of flowers and plants. The sight of the small garden was as beautiful as you were to him.

Looking around for anything that could be the answer you spoke of, he saw a faint bit of energy coming from inside a tree. When he got close to the tree, he found it had a hollow spot in it where you’d left a diary. He fished it out and walked to a shaded place in the clearing to begin reading it. Every page was an entry about the two of you together. All of your private feelings from when he was just a crush, and once you had gotten closer, you even glued in pictures you’d taken together.

Gojo couldn’t control his tears or hide his sobs. His body shook against the tree as he held the diary close to his chest. He calmed down enough to continue reading it, with the last entry being dated a week ago.

She knew she was going to die… He thought. You had written about the rise of cursed spirits in the area of increasing numbers and strength and how you felt like it was time for you to fulfill your duty to your people. More than that though, you wrote about how you wished you could have told Gojo. How you wanted to stay with him forever, how he was the only thing you’d ever loved as much as you loved the Gods, and how because of that you wanted to make sure he was safe and didn’t have to fight for once.

It was all too much, Gojo swore he would drown in his own tears right there. The wind picked up and blew the diary’s pages, landing on entry from before you two had met.

6.25 — Training Notes: after a long session of training and studying my technique’s history in my family. I have learned of a way I might be able to circumvent its cost. If I summon a deity of destruction that has the ability to reincarnate, then I will reincarnate too! One of my ancestors did that long ago, although it took 59 days for them to come back.

Gojo couldn’t believe what he was reading. He wiped his eyes on his sleeves furiously and scrambled to his feet. He stored your diary in an inner pocket of his kimono and made his way down the mountains to the temple ruins.

He inspected the gate and found exactly what he needed to be able to accept the loss of the only woman he’s ever loved. Utahime was strolling the grounds when she noticed him in the air, getting a close look at the doors.

“Gojo, what do you think you’re doing? Get down here!” Utahime found his behavior so disgraceful. He chuckled on his way back to earth.

“I was just checking on something. Had to be sure that I wasn’t seeing things.”

His eyes were red and puffy, but his annoyingly cheerful attitude was starting to return. Utahime couldn’t tell if she was relieved or annoyed.

“Checking on what?”

“Eh,” Gojo put a hand over the diary in his pocket.

“Doesn’t matter now.”

[sgiandubh]

It's all fake, anyway

Oh, my. The last two or three video snippets in Marina del Rey. The revolt. The pearl-clutching. The hate.

Again, you know nothing, Jon Snow. It's all about the medium being the message, again: carefully calibrated snippets of information, destined to a captive, deeply divided and (how can I put that without sounding offending, I wonder) unexperimented (yes, that's decent enough) audience.

During the last 24 hours, we've got the Marina del Rey gin promo & MPC teambuilding (hardly an orgy, btw) and C's MUA (or is it hairdresser? irrelevant) hinting on Instagram about a photoshoot at a gin distillery in a #beautifullocation, somewhere on Earth, presumably in Scotland - given her last IG follow. No further details, of course. Very probably a (late-) latergram, too, when she finally got the green light to publish it. Implying nothing, but leaving a boulevard bandwidth for people to infer whatever suits their own narrative. Expect FMN news soon? I highly doubt that and stand corrected: the last photoshoot (with McSideburns, in London) was on May 3rd, when she needed to somehow show the world the Two of Them were continents apart. Identical modus operandi. And always, always via tertiary players.

As for the Marina del Rey teambuilding, if you think that is 'S living his life' you are: a) living in a remote mountain/island area or under a rock; b) an impenitent Mordorian with an agenda to boot or c) incredibly incompetent with the way of the world (or at least, that world). Allow me to translate?

It is alcohol promo, duckies, disguised as teambuilding. The intended message is aimed at a younger, non-OL related audience (as I already warned you) and it roughly goes like this:

'we are a fun loving, no nonsense, start-up business in the spirits industry. Because we don't have a huge advertising budget, we're testing the waters with a cheap, reality-TV snippet to better evaluate the number of social media clicks and new followers and help gauge & calibrate the next step'.

Was it poorly executed? Yeah, you could say that, but then what to do, in a very restrictive, highly regulated tobacco & spirits advertising market, hum? Is it my cup of tea? I don't drink, therefore this type of message touches one ball without really moving the other.

Yes. Start-up business: if we take into account the COVID logistic delay, I believe we're still in that three-years frame. And this detail is essential in order to put context around a very forgettable snippet. Selling a brand-new, more democratic product. Selling it clumsily, in an effort to build relevance, because even bad advertising is, ultimately, good advertising. But make no mistake: it's nothing more than that and it is all they can do, in the current context.

This brings to mind another aspect of the charade, namely the fact that after the Remarkable Week-end (and with the exception of some carefully scripted 'slips'), released and available information progressively became (at least) two-tiered.

First tier: information carefully calibrated for immediate release and general consumption, primarily but not exclusively by the fandom. This includes: spirits shilling, innuendos galore, look-here-not-there latergrams. It also entails less direct interaction with the fans on socials and delegating the media management to secondary players (often called to the rescue, too).

Second tier: public information with a limited availability (you have to take the plunge and pay), for sleuths able and willing to go the extra mile. They paint a very different landscape. And draw two copycat timelines of people who are investing, buying and selling property and overall branching out of their primary source of income with a plan.

I am not a photo sleuth. But with a little bit of time on my hands, I am a decent paperwork analyst. Accounting is not my forte, but legal and business is. I saw what I needed to see and it holds.

So before you start screeching (bad idea, right?), remember this (credit given to @dillon7fan, thanks):

Not really: it is doctored make believe. Bless your heart, honest guy.

Next stop, Tehran. Yes, you read that correctly.

This evening or tomorrow, at the latest. Because context is everything and this fandom severely fails at this.

[cherrysimmer1]

Chapter 28

Agatha let out a sigh. "She's your cousin," Myrtle pleaded, "She's your family. Imagine being in her shoes!"

There were a few seconds of silence, then Agatha shook her head 'no' with a light chuckle.

"I'm serious," Myrtle insisted. "Okay and? I'm not allowed to refuse being involved with Agnes' problems?" Agatha asked.

"Oh, please! As if that could even cross your mind! You? Refuse?! You wouldn't!"

Agatha exhaled, "You're right, I wouldn't."

She turned around. Her face shifted from deeply thoughtful to falsely joyful.

"I would never!" She exclaimed in a fake happy tone. "I love her too much for that! She's my cousin, right?"

"We're family, aren't we? Isn't that what family members do?"

"Or are, at least, supposed to do?"

"Ever since we were kids, I was always there for Agnes! In the good, the bad and the ugly times!"

"Especially in the bad and ugly times..."

"All these years until now, nothing really changed in our lives! It's just like in the past! Me trying to fix her mess!"

"I'm glad you won't let her down," Myrtle said, "Agnes is one of my favorite friends. I adore her. After all that she's been through, I wish her nothing but happiness! I think she deserves it."

She added, "I wish I could help her myself but... I'm too much of a wuss!..."

"No, you're not." Agatha reassured.

"I don't have your courage..." Myrtle continued. "You already know my issues with nightmares, how one little fright can give me sleepless nights for weeks. My mind get so scared that I become paranoid. Remember the time I couldn't be alone in my own apartment for months?"

"Yes," Agatha replied, "I remember. But you fought it! You fought your racing thoughts successfully. You got over your paranoia."

"It never really went away," said Myrtle in a mildly sad tone. "It's intermittent. But thank God my kids come over sometimes to keep me company when I'm too scared alone. I know you tried to make me face my fears and all but... well I'm... I'm working on that!"

"Oh, good!", Agatha encouraged. "Keep working on it and you will overcome your fears! Don't you ever stop. Only you can make the change you are seeking in your mind."

Myrtle sighted slightly, "Anyway, I strongly wish for Agnes to get rid of that curse!"

"You know... I always tried my best to protect Agnes when we were growing up," Agatha recalled. "Whether she was in trouble at school or at home, I was there to solve her problems and it became a habit. From kindergarten all the way through those lovely high school years up to college."

Agatha took a deep breath, "I will continue to try whatever and however I can do to get her out of trouble. Whichever kind of trouble it is..."

"...Even the supernatural ones."

"Her troubles are my troubles. Always been. I'm so blessed."

"Her problems are my problems. That's so great, I'm so fortunate."

"Her curse is my curse. What a dream! It's all I asked for."

Oblivious of Agatha's contradictory facial expressions, Myrtle seemed thrilled by her friend's words.

"She's so lucky to have you!" Myrtle said.

Agatha turned around with a serious face and looked at her friend straight in the eye, "I'll speak to a priest, I'll consult a psychic, I'll convoke a shaman, I'll summon a witch, I'll call a medium, I'll invite a spirit worker..."

"You're the best!" exclaimed Myrtle.

"Anything that puts me on the right direction to protect Agnes from being haunted."

"I'd give you the cousin of the year medal or something!"

"Yeah... I'll do all I can to help Agnes."

❮ Prev | Next ❯

[charlie-pippin-faraday]

my danganronpa v3 chapter 3 investigation and trial running commentary:

would it be too obvious to predict that kiyo killed angie? because it seems like there was a ritual involved, and he's the ritual guy. and he wouldn't shut up about the resurrection ritual angie wanted to do being like an offense to proper rituals or whatever

you know people have been saying "yeah they're definitely dead, positive, i watched them die" so many times i'm starting to get suspicious

the instant kiyo was like "the spirit medium should be a girl" i knew it was gonna be tenko, and i had the immediate thought of "she's about to die, isn't she?" which only grew stronger as she was saying all that uplifting stuff to himiko

"alright himiko i'll see you later!" i have the sinking feeling you won't

"i'll see you all after the seance!" no you won't, tenko

this singing strongly reminds me of being in church lol. no tune, rhythm, or pitch, everyone's singing terribly, it's barely more than a chant lol

there was a huge obvious thunk in the middle of our song and we just kept singing?? lol okay

kiyo looking at tenko surrounded by a pool of her own blood: "something is amiss." yeah ya think???

tbh i expected there to be a double murder at some point. there was one in each of the previous two games (both in chapter 3, if i recall correctly), so this isn't a surprise

even though i 100% saw it coming, i'm a little bummed it was tenko. i fucking HATED her at the start but she was really growing on me

however, i DID predict that all of the girlies would end up dead, and they took out 2 of the 3 of them in one fell swoop

lmao maki you can call kaito stupid as much as you want, but i see through your ruse. i too was once an angry, brash teenage girl. i know that "he's so stupid i can't stand him" is teenage girl code for "i want him so bad i don't know how to handle it." and like, someone treating her kindly, including her in the group constantly, and believing in her on blind faith alone has got to be out of the norm for her, i get why he gets her so bent out of shape lol

she really did punch him super hard in the mouth tho lol

i miss having kaito around, my buddy my partner in crime. was really missing him the latter half of this chapter

but he's with me at all times in spirit, now that i have the kaito monopad theme! it's like i stuck up a picture of him in my locker, that's what that feels like. he's always there, cheering me on, inspiring me. a constant reminder...of Him

now, as for this case, i do not have nearly as clear of an idea of what happened or who's guilty. i'm definitely more confused than last time. last time i knew basically how the murder happened. this one i'm stumped, on both murders. there's so much that doesn't make sense, idk how it happened. OR who did it. my only hunch is that i think it could be kiyo? but that feels like too simple an answer just because of all the occult stuff and i have no clue why he would do that

"i believe that inner voice will lead me to hope as long as i listen to it" keebo you don't happen to hear the voice of makoto naegi in your head, do you?

LMAOOOO @ kokichi and miu going back and forth about "cum dumpster" and gonta just being like ".......anyway what should we talk about now?"

the taxi game should just be called "reckless driving: the minigame"

"soul bro"????????? kazuichi soda is that you?????

"as a self-proclaimed expert of stepping through floorboards" i'm glad kokichi can make fun of himself as well as others

i mean once they said the loose floorboard was inside the magic circle, the magic circle that kiyo drew and that kiyo told us not to step on, in order to perform the seance that kiyo put together and convinced us to perform........the answer there felt kind of obvious

kiyo was acting very sus the whole trial, trying very hard to pin the blame on himiko

the very unhinged nervous laughter gave it away tbh

is miu saying that she makes keebo look at her shit everyday? also, why go through all that? wouldn't a camera be easier?

why is everyone bullying keebo PLEASE stop

i would just like to say, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart: what the FUCK, kiyo

i didn't expect this game to include an incestuous serial killer, yet here we are

"i nearly went mad" you know what my dude i think you can cut out the word "nearly"

"all the girls here are worthy except maki and miu" hey shut the fuck up, those are my two favorite girls!!!!

"i have finished my explanation to you, friends" we're not friends

"i'll watch over you as a ghost! as your friend, i'll watch over you!" please don't. and once again we're not friends

now i know why i couldn't figure out what happened in these murders or why they occurred - it's because kiyo is INSANE and just did murders for funsies

"i'll put in the effort until everyone trusts me" i see that kaito finally got through to maki

she's still annoying but i'm glad to see that himiko finally grew a bit of a backbone and fought back. and it's heartening to see tenko inspire her, maybe she'll be more interesting as the rest of this game progresses

i do feel bad for her tho, they cruelly took out both prongs of her love triangle at once. she wailed about being alone now, which is sad, but i sure hope she doesn't come to ME for comfort or friendship; despite these developments i'm still not interested in hanging out with her

i thought he was gonna end up annoying me endlessly, but kokichi has become very fascinating. what's your motive, my dude? why do you do the things you do? what's your endgame? i don't understand you and i'm never hanging out with you, but i'm curious

gonta carrying himiko on his back is actually the sweetest thing

bro holdup is kaito dying??????? no no no!!!!!! i need more information IMMEDIATELY!

oh great, i get kiyo's mask as a present, exactly what i wanted

on to chapter 4!

[sephirthoughts]

The Ghost of Shinra Manor

Chapter 4 of this

summary: It's been two years-ish since the events of Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud visits his hometown, and investigates a rumor of a ghost, haunting Shinra Manor. If you're surprised by who it turns out to be, you are beyond my power to save, comrade.

tags: g-g-g-ghosts!!! sefikura, sephiroth x cloud, sane!sephiroth (sort of), post advent children, post dirge of cerberus, canon timeline, delusions, intermitten amnesia, low drama, enemies to…whatever the hell they have going on

warnings: references to death, PTSD, child abuse, etc. all of hojo's greatest hits, canon-typical violence

rating: teen and up [BE ADVISED: THIS RATING WILL CHANGE]

Part 4: Resolve

Cloud didn’t check his phone till they were back at the cabin, by which time he’d accumulated a number of alerts.

MISSED CALLS(4): Tifa

MISSED CALL: Barrett

New Messages(5)

He decided to deal with them in order of priority, and opened the messages app first.

Strife: hey what do you know about ghosts

Chadley: Hello, Cloud. It’s good to hear from you. Ghosts aren’t really my area of expertise, unless you’re referring to occurrences of unusual fauna, which are often erroneously reported as ghost sightings. May I ask what this is in regard to?

Strife: like how to identify one and how to get rid of it

Chadley: Hm. There are a number of so-called spirit mediums and exorcists, who claim to be able to detect and communicate with spirits, but since there isn’t an established scientific discipline, I’m afraid the field is fraught with charlatans.

Strife: so there’s no one who knows anything?

Chadley: Don’t lose hope, my friend. It just so happens that an acquaintance of mine is what I would call the world’s foremost lay-expert in spectral phenomena. If there’s anyone who could answer whatever questions you have, it would be him.

Strife: lay-expert?

Chadley: That means he’s highly knowledgeable, but it isn’t his day job.  

Strife: what’s his actual job

Chadley: He works as the concierge for the Haunted Hotel, at the Gold Saucer.

Strife: tell me you’re not talking about that upside-down lunatic bellhop

Chadley: Oh, are you acquainted?

Strife: forget it. i meant someone sane

Chadley: Don’t let his sense of whimsy deter you. That’s his professional persona. He’s actually a very astute and level-headed person. I assure you, there’s no one more knowledgeable in the field.

Strife: really?

Chadley: Indeed. Shall I put you in touch?

Strife: yeah ok

Chadley: Excellent. I’ll give him your contact information. Good luck!

Strife: thanks

Tifa: hey you, just checking in to see how you’re doing. how’s the job going?

Tifa: btw denzy managed to fix that old bike they found. he even rode it around today

Tifa: marley took these pics of him aren’t they cute? .img .img .img

Tifa: good news! i just got off the phone with barrett and he’s going to be in town friday. we’re thinking of having a big bbq dinner for everyone at the bar. you’ll be back by then right?

Strife: won’t be back by friday. something came up i have to deal with

Several minutes passed.

Tifa: i guess there’s nothing you can do when a rush job comes up. when do you think you’ll be back?

Strife: can’t say. could be a while

Tifa: oh i see

Tifa: ok well try not to stay gone too long ok? the kids miss you

Cloud was attempting to formulate a human-sounding reply, when his phone lit up with a new notification.

UNKNOWN: greetings cloud! my name is benjamin hopkins. my friend chadley said you’d like my help with some ghost related information. feel free to give me a call any time, and I’d be happy to assist you however I can.

He stared at his phone screen. A bellhop. Named Benjamin Hopkins. What the fuck ever. Of course that weirdo in the mummy bandages would have a weirdo name.

Sephiroth’s high-school AU version was still wearing the Gold Saucer t-shirt, with the addition of a pair of Cloud’s black jeans, which fit him far too well for Cloud’s liking. At the moment, he was sitting at the camp table, staring into space, because Cloud didn’t have any chores for him to do except wash dishes, and he’d done that already.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud said, giving him a start.

Big, blue-green eyes looked up at him, full of hope and trust. “Yes, sir?”

“If you want something to do, why don’t you go out and chop some firewood, before we’re ass-deep in snow. From the look of things, we’re gonna need it.”

Sephiroth jumped up eagerly. “Yes, sir. How much should I get?”

“Just whatever you can cut while I’m on the phone,” Cloud said carelessly. “The axe is hanging up over there. Shed is behind the cabin. I’ll come check on you, when I’m done with my call.”

“Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

“Sephiroth.”

“Mn?”

“Jacket.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And knock off that sir shit. Call me Cloud.”

“Yes, s—Cloud.”

With a sheepish grin, the boy pulled on the old down jacket Cloud had given him, grabbed the axe, and strode out into the snow, full of determination. Cloud stared at the closed door for a full thirty seconds, after he’d gone, and had to physically shake himself out of the reverie.

Seeing Sephiroth this way was wreaking havoc on his emotional state. The child version had been easy. Similar but unfamiliar. Cloud was able to dissociate him from the mental index he had for Sephiroth, and just see a little boy. The adult version was even easier. He was fully familiar and fit neatly into Cloud’s ‘mortal enemy, hated with the fire of a thousand suns’ index.

The teenaged version was more complicated. This was the Sephiroth who had been his idol and hero, when he was the bullied and ostracized poor kid in this tiny shit town. His reason for never giving up, when things seemed hopeless.

This was the Sephiroth he’d fallen in love with, in the innocent and wholehearted sincerity of childhood. The Sephiroth that a part of him, no matter how forcefully denied and deeply buried, still loved.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed the ache in his throat. If some fragment of himself was still idiotic and delusional enough to harbor anything approaching love for Sephiroth, that was just one more reason to quickly figure out how to end him, once and for all. The sooner the man was gone for good, the better. With fresh resolve, he pulled out his phone and dialed the bellhop’s number.

“Benjamin Hopkins, how can I help you?” said the man’s (not quite as deranged as Cloud remembered) voice.

Cloud sighed audibly. “Is that your real fucking name?”

“No, it’s not,” he retorted. “If you must know, my real name is Subject N-2, and thanks for bringing up that very painful memory. Would you like to talk about ghosts, now?”

“Uh. Sorry,” Cloud muttered. “Is this a good time?”

“Good as any. I’m at work, but it’s a pretty slow day, to tell you the truth, so I’m just hanging around.”

Cloud stifled another sigh. “Did you say that because you’re literally hanging upside-down right now?”

“Eh? Have we met before?”

“Couple years ago. My friends and I were looking for rooms at the hotel. One of them may have been a bit…aggressive.”

“Oh…oh! Are you the little blonde who came in with the giant, the vampire, the cowboy aviator, and a robot cat?”

“I’m impressed you remember us.”

“Ah, ha ha. Mr. Strife, how many times do you think I’ve had an arm-mounted minigun shoved in my face, at my place of employment? Just, ballpark estimate.”

Cloud swallowed. “Is it…one time?”

“Ding ding ding! Correct! Just the one time. So yes, I remember you. A man doesn’t tend to forget that kind of character-defining life and death experience.”

“Sorry about that guy. He has anger issues and trust issues and impulse control issues, and also he’s scared of spooky stuff, so he was acting tough to hide it,” Cloud explained, blithely throwing Barrett under the bus. “But, now that I think of it, I remember you seeming pretty chill about the gun. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Ok, you got me,” the bellhop tittered. “I was exaggerating about the character-defining life and death experience stuff. I’ve been through way worse than that.”

“You have?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all part of my tragic backstory. However! It was highly inappropriate of your friend to threaten a member of the hotel staff with a firearm. Imagine if a normal employee had been the one at the counter, instead. They’d have trauma! I’m sorry to be strict, but for the safety and mental health of the staff and guests, I’m afraid Mr. Barrett Wallace is not welcome on Haunted Hotel premises, until further notice. I hope he takes the opportunity to reflect carefully on his actions.”

“Fair enough. I doubt he’d go back there if you dragged him, anyway.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s talk about your ghost problem. What seems to be the trouble?”

“That’s part of the problem,” Cloud said, feeling a little stupid saying any of this out loud. “I’m not even sure it’s a ghost.”

“Ah, say no more. I happen to have my ‘Got Ghosts?’ checklist handy. Why don’t we go through that, first. More often than not, the phenomena people misidentify as evidence of hauntings are perfectly mundane, explainable things.”

“Um. Ok.”

“Do you have any of the following: shadows or other unexplained movement in your peripheral vision?”

“No.”

“Sensation of falling, while seated or lying down?”

“No.”

“Cold spots in the house?”

“This is Nibelheim. The whole house is a cold spot.”

“I’ll go ahead and check no for that one. Voices laughing, or speaking in whispers/low tones?”

“No.”

“Thinking you hear someone call your name, when alone in the house or with others who deny having done so?”

“No.”

“Scratching or tapping on walls or under floors?”

“No.”

“Sound of footsteps, from empty rooms?”

“No.”

“Lights flickering, or inexplicably being turned off?”

“No.”

“Waking up to the certainty that there is a terrifying presence in the room with you, but unable to move or call for help?”

“No.”

“Pets behaving strangely, and/or interacting with something that is not there?”

“No pets.”

“Objects moved to strange locations, cabinets found open, doors opening or shutting on their own, et cetera?”

“Nope.”

There was a pause. “I’m a little confused, Mr. Strife. If none of these things are occurring, what leads you to believe you might have a ghost?”

“I found a dead person—”

“You found a body??”

“No. Let me finish my sentence, will you? I found a person who I know to be dead, except he’s not acting dead, and he was hanging around in an abandoned basement, naked and crying.”

“He was…that’s uh…wow. A lot to unpack. You’re sure he wasn’t just abducted, and presumed dead? Because, to be honest, that’s kind of what it sounds like.”

“I’m sure. I killed him, myself.”

The bellhop choked audibly. “I—I see. And, uh…the person you found in this basement, who resembles the person you killed—”

“Not resembles. It is him. He answers to his name and knew where he was. But he doesn’t remember me. He seems to be having some kind of weird amnesia, where he’s only getting parts of his memory back.”

“And, um. Not to belabor a point,” the bellhop said gingerly, “but, what makes you think he’s a ghost? I mean, apart from the fact that you claim to have killed him and are definitely one-hundred percent certain that he did actually die.”

“He’s pale. Like, corpse pale. His body is ice-cold. All of it gets kind of transparent, sometimes, but mostly his hands and feet. He has trouble touching things, without his fingers going right through them. And sometimes, when he talks, he fades in and out, like a radio.”

The sound of a pencil scratching, from the other end of the line said enough, so Cloud continued.

“Normal lighting hurts his eyes, so I have to use a gas lantern or just the fireplace. He doesn’t seem to see very well, or maybe he’s just seeing things that aren’t real. Less than two hours ago, I watched him walk straight through a solid wall of stone that he insisted wasn’t there. Also, when I found him yesterday, he was an adult. When I woke up this morning, he was a little kid. Now he’s a teenager.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Mr. Strife—”

“Cloud.”

“Cloud. If you would go this far, just to play some kind of mean-spirited prank—”

“Do I seem like the type of person who plays pranks, Benjamin?”

“Not really,” he conceded. “If anything, you seem to be the 'broody edgelord who takes himself way too seriously' type.”

“That’s not…inaccurate. So, can you help me, or not?”

Benjamin let out a long breath. “Hoo, boy. Let me be honest with you, I thought I was prepared, but none of my usual checklists cover anything like this. That said, your guy actually sounds a lot like a ghost. There are inconsistencies, but if what you’re telling me is the truth, I can’t think of any other explanation. Um. Let me look something up, real quick.”

“Sure, take your time.”

There was another lengthy pause in which Benjamin muttered to himself and Cloud heard pages turning.

“Alright, found it. So, the Cetra believed that the spirits of human beings could be temporarily unable to enter the lifestream, for a number of different reasons. A spirit can’t inhabit its dead body, though, so they show up as disembodied entities, mostly resembling intangible wisps of light. These are what people would commonly call ghosts.”

“But mine’s not an intangible wisp, or whatever,” Cloud pointed out. “He’s actually pretty solid. I even carried him a few times.”

“Right. Hence the inconsistency. The only stories of ghosts being able to take physical bodies and walk around interacting with living people, are from ancient oral traditions, and those were supposedly the spirits of demigods.”

“Ok, back up. Forget about the body thing, for now. What are the reasons someone could be unable to enter the lifestream?”

“Strong resentment, unfinished business, promises to keep—any kind of attachment so strong that it keeps them hanging on, past their time.”

“So, if it was that, what would we do about it?”

“Supposedly, the attachment has to be resolved, then the spirit can be freed and enter the lifestream. For humans. For the demigods…that’s a different story. They were considered to be corrupt beings, so they were rejected permanently. Pretty sad, if you ask me.”

“Corrupt how?”

“Well, demigods are the offspring of humans and gods, which is a big ontological no-no. Gods can’t die, and can’t enter the lifestream, but that’s a whole other thing. The children of an eternal god and a mortal human, therefore, are stuck between worlds. Their bodies can die, but their spirits can’t ascend to godhood, and they can’t join the lifestream either, so they just linger. Some of them go mad and turn into malicious entities, that spread plague and disaster and war, and some just gradually lose themselves, fading but never disappearing. Like Zeno’s paradox, but with existence, instead of infinitely shrinking distances.”

“Shit. That is pretty sad.”

“Yeah, man. Have you studied any mythology? Like, ninety percent of it is a huge bummer.”

“There’s another thing. I attacked him with a sword, when I first saw him. He wasn’t hurt at all, but the attacks backlashed on me, really badly. I’m still recovering from the internal injuries. What could cause that?”

“Huh,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “A sword attack certainly shouldn’t be able to harm a ghost, but how does it backlash?”

“It wasn’t the blade I hit him with. It was a directed energy spell, using the blade as a catalyst.”

“You used a mana-based attack on the alleged ghost, and it backlashed on you? Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Well, in my experience—I mean, my experience researching ghost-related phenomena, obviously—untethered human souls are extremely fragile. An energy spell should have scattered it, if not destroyed it completely. I’ve never heard of one defending itself, let alone being able to harm a living person.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So, to be on the safe side, maybe don’t do that anymore. In the meantime, are there any other extremely significant details that you haven’t bothered to bring up, yet? Because, I’d really like to just hear it all at once, if that’s ok.”

“Just a few things. He has these memory flashbacks, he gets caught in. He can bring me into them, but he doesn’t know how. It’s happened a few times. Also, when we were sleeping, last night, I dreamed a bunch of random pieces of his memories.”

“You believe he’s a ghost, and you went to sleep, in the same room with him?”

“I just said sleeping. Why do you assume we were in the same room?”

“Were you?”

“Yes. What does it matter?”

“I’m impressed, is all. You’re a different breed than most huma—ahem—most people, aren’t you.”

“He was a lot scarier alive. That’s why I want to figure out how to kill him permanently, as soon as possible.”

“Without killing yourself along with him, you mean.”

“Sure.”

“O…kay. Anything else you haven’t mentioned?”

Cloud opened his mouth to tell Benjamin about the pain in his chest, that had been growing since he approached Nibelheim, and how it had gotten unbearable when Sephiroth started to fade, earlier, but for some reason, he became extremely reluctant to talk about it. “Uh. No, that’s all.”

“Alrighty,” Benjamin said cheerfully. “I’m gonna have to do a little research and get back to you, because, um. Ha ha. I’ve never heard of anything like this situation, in my life.”

“Right. Well, thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend of Chadley. Hey, just out of curiosity, where’s your ghost, now? You didn’t talk about all of this in front of him, right?”

“No, I sent him out to chop firewood, so we could talk.”

“You sent him to chop firewood. And he just…obeyed you?”

“Yeah. He’s been cooperative, the whole time.”

“Wow. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him? Joking, joking. Oop, got some customers. It was nice talking to you! Bye!”

“See ya,” Cloud replied, but the man had already hung up.

What a strange person. Which, upon mature consideration, was rather unsurprising, for an upside-down bellhop at the Haunted Hotel, who dressed like a mummy for work, and studied ghosts in his free time. Despite all that, Cloud felt inclined to trust him. There was something familiar and reliable, in his aura. Like they’d already known each other.

Cloud’s hyper-tuned hearing didn’t detect any chopping, outside the cabin, so he went out to see how Sephiroth was faring. Fat snowflakes were falling heavily, and the world was still and silent, the way it only gets, when everything is muffled under several inches of snow.

Sephiroth was nowhere in sight, so Cloud went around to the back and stopped short. The woodshed door was wide open, and what appeared to be smoke was billowing out into the cold air.

“Fuck—Sephiroth!” he exclaimed, dashing for the shed.

The boy popped his head out. “Cloud? What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?” Cloud asked, confused. “What is all this…steam?”

“I filled the shed all the way up, and now I’m using a desiccation spell, to dry the wood out, so it’ll burn better and it won’t rot,” Sephiroth explained brightly.

Cloud peered into the shed, and saw the neatly and tightly stacked wood, already split and free of twigs and foliage. Sure enough, there was a thin layer of yellowish light on all of it, and it was cheerfully releasing steam, like a huge stack of fresh baked buns.

“What about the wood that was already in here?”

“I moved it all to the woodpile, at the front of the cabin.” Misunderstanding Cloud’s expression, Sephiroth’s face fell, “I—I’m sorry, I know you didn’t tell me to do that, but I thought—”

“No, it’s ok,” Cloud interrupted. “I was just surprised that you worked so fast. You did everything right. Good job.”

The beautiful boy lit up like a firework, at that little bit of praise, nearly annihilating Cloud on the spot.

His cheeks and nose were touched with pink, from all the exercise in the cold, which only made him look even sweeter and more innocent, as he beamed up at him. If only he could’ve stayed this way. If only he hadn’t been tortured and horribly abused, until he became the very monster he’d always feared he was.

The moment his heart began to soften, a surge of black bitterness rose up in Cloud’s throat to choke him. How could Sephiroth ever have been like this? He was always beautiful, but he couldn’t have been innocent and sweet, even at this age. He was already a cold-blooded killer, after all. It must be a deception, to manipulate him.

“You look sad,” Sephiroth said. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re turning pink.”

“Am I?” Sephiroth reached up to touch his cheeks, self-consciously.

“Yeah. But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dead,” Cloud said flatly. “You don’t have blood. So how would your cheeks flush from being cold?”

The boy’s eyes suddenly went hazy and unfocused. “I’m…I’m dead.”

Sure enough, the flush of color drained from his face, leaving his skin waxen white; so translucent, that his veins were visible in his cheeks, as faint, bluish lines. His whole person seemed to wither, and become greyer and duller.

Cloud immediately regretted listening to that bitter part of himself, and lashing out at the boy. Whatever evil Sephiroth had done, this child hadn’t done it, yet.

“Seph…I’m sorry,” he said, gingerly patting the boy’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

Sephiroth’s skin instantly began to brighten, again, and that dead, grey cast fell away. But now his eyes were dewy and pink-rimmed. “Wh—why did you call me that?”

“What?”

“You called me Seph.”

“Isn’t that how people usually shorten your name?”

“I don’t know.” Two big, round tears rolled down his rosy cheeks. “No one ever has.”

Cloud was utterly at a loss, so he just patted the boy’s shoulder again. “Come on, don’t cry. Let’s go inside. You’re covered in snow.”

They hung up their coats on the hooks by the door, and kicked the snow off their boots, which they set by the fire, to dry. While Sephiroth put more wood on, Cloud was assessing the food supply, in case this storm lasted a while. He wasn’t too worried, though. He’d stocked up well on canned and dry goods, had plenty of fish in the freezer, and could always hunt.

It was no problem for him to traverse the route into town in extreme weather, but that wouldn’t do a lot of good if the town was too snowed in to function. If worse came to worst, he’d go over and clear the main roads. That was work that would be long and arduous for an entire crew of regular people, but with his strength and fire spells, wasn’t even difficult. He’d done it before.

While Sephiroth was bathing, Cloud toasted up some simple, grilled cheese sandwiches, on the skillet, which he cut into triangles. Then he got out a saucepan and began to heat up some milk.

The heavy snow put him in mind of winters with his mother, in their little house, and the rare luxury that was hot cocoa. He didn’t have peppermint sticks or marshmallows, so he sprinkled a little cinnamon on top.

He was just pouring it into the mugs, when Sephiroth came out, in those old sweatpants and another of Cloud’s t-shirts. He’d pulled his damp, chin-length hair back into a mini-ponytail at the base of his skull, which looked ridiculously cute.

“Dinner,” Cloud said.

Sephiroth sat dutifully at the camp table. “What’s this brown stuff?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the mug Cloud set in front of him.

“Cinnamon.”

“And we drink it?”

“If you want. You don’t have to.”

Sephiroth reached for the mug, which his solid-looking fingers picked up with no trouble. Putting it to his lips, he took a cautious little sip. He froze for a beat. Then his eyes went round and starry and he sucked down every last drop of the warm, creamy cocoa, smacking his lips and ‘mm-ing’ delightedly between slurps.

Cloud nearly spit his own cocoa out, laughing, at the tragic face he made, when he realized his mug was empty. “You like it, huh?”

Sephiroth nodded vigorously. “Mn! I love it! I want to drink cinnamon all the time!”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” Cloud corrected. “Cinnamon is just the stuff sprinkled on top.”

“Hot cocoa,” Sephiroth repeated. “What is it made of?”

“My mom made it with chopped up chocolate and sugar, but I just use the tinned mix. There’s more in the saucepan, if you want.”

Sephiroth’s expression became grave. “Your mother taught you to make this?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sharing it with me?”

“Looks that way.”

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said, dipping his head, as Cloud poured more cocoa into his mug. “I feel very honored.”

“It’s just hot cocoa. I’m sure everyone’s moms made it for them.”

“My mother…would have made this for me?”

“Probably.”

Sephiroth fell silent, looking reverent and reflective, as he slowly sipped the cocoa, this time, carefully savoring every mouthful, seemingly lost in his own little world. He didn’t touch the grilled cheese, but Cloud hadn’t expected him to. He was surprised enough that the boy was able to drink the cocoa. He ate both grilled cheese sandwiches, himself, without remarking on it, then went to take his shower.

When he came out again, Sephiroth had washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Cloud had never thought of Sephiroth as someone who would be able or willing to undertake such mundane tasks. He’d only seen the lofty and beautiful hero, standing at the vanguard, sword in hand, sweeping away enemies like chaff on the wind.

This ghost, however, was turning out to be quite the cheerful little domestic helper, willing to do whatever task was at hand, and very good at everything he put is hand to. He’d even piled more wood onto the fire, swept the floor, and tied up the garbage in a neat little bundle, by the door, to be carried away.

Cloud lay down in his bed, but seeing the teenaged boy curled up on the rug, by the fire, wrapped in his one blanket, was too much for his conscience.

“Seph,” he said. “It’s too cold to sleep on the floor. We can share the bed.”

The boy looked up timidly. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on. If you get sick, it’ll just be more trouble for me.”

Thus reassured, Sephiroth hurried over in his blanket and threw it over the top of the others, then shimmied in under the covers.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Your bed is so soft!”

Cloud squinted. “Is it?”

“It’s the softest bed I’ve ever been in! It’s amazing!”

“It’s just a futon on a wood frame.”

“What’s a futon?”

“It’s um…a Wutaian mattress.”

For what seemed like a very long time, Cloud lay stiffly on his back, staring up at firelight dancing on the ceiling, and carefully avoiding touching the boy, who was writhing and wriggling about, like he had fleas. At long last, he seemed to get comfortable and settle down. But just as Cloud was closing his eyes to drift off—

“Cloud?”

“Hm.”

“Why does your hair stick up like that, but mine hangs down?”

“Dunno. This is just the way it is.”

“Can I…can I touch it?”

Cloud eyed him dubiously. “Can you touch it? I mean…I don’t know why you want to, but I guess so.”

Sephiroth reached out and delicately prodded the blonde spikes. “It feels just like my hair. I thought it would be more like goat hair.”

“What? Why goat hair?” Cloud scowled.

Sephiroth grinned and kept petting his head, absently scooting closer, till their knees touched.

Cloud’s stomach fluttered nervously, in spite of himself. Yes, he was an adult now, but this was his first love, after all. In his mind, he was suddenly eleven years old again, gazing at a Shinra recruitment poster he’d kept secreted away in his bedroom, daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss those perfect lips.

“Ok, time to sleep,” he said abruptly, turning onto his side, with his back to Sephiroth.

“Goodnight, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, after a few minutes had passed.

“Goodnight, Seph. Now, no more talking.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY credit to @soundcrusher for the bellhop's name and backstory, which they let me borrow for this fic 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

ao3

[sapphire-drawings]

Hey Sapphire! In your adult Webber/ Wendy au, could you please describe and talk about Wendy’s statues. Because, not all the survivors know her, and that is like the way they see her beyond the radio’s voice. And, I imagine, she portrays herself different from how Maxwell portrays herself, because she isn’t seeking fame and its greatness. Also, your Au is great, and I pretend to write about it, so, do you have any problems if I post it?

Quick-ish reply cuz you got me thinking and the truth is... I've no idea what's Wendy's role in the Au

But first

Anyone's free to write, to draw or whatever they please with this Au. I'm not the owner of the originals, this is just something I came up with for funsies and obsession

Just don't put things in my mouth for "what's canon and what's not" and tag me so I can see it!! ^^

Although if I like someone's idea I'll ask to make it canon lmao

Now get ready for some random nonsense.

Or don't read it and just enjoy the drawing, whatever please your eyes

The original idea was for her to be a magician just like canon Maxwell and Abigail would be her assistant. Carter Sisters' magic show or something

But my Au is weird and not planned at all

Abby is also Jack and Will's mother (weird, I'm aware) so, How is she the assistant/Next-Constant-Queen and mother mourning her "dead" sister and children?? (well, Jack is the only one dead for real)

...I'll be rambling from this point forward, sorry but not really

Abby HAS to die thanks to something Wendy did

What if... Wendy's show is the medium type? She "contacts" spirits and fortune telling stuff. She's a failure until the codex appears. By this point she lost contact with the family, (hence why William and Jack don't recognize her at first glance (A simple "she looks like mom but not quite")) focusing in what the canon says, fortune and glory seeking evolving into greed.

Then Abby goes after her??? For some reason???

They reunite and Wendy is too stubborn to go back and then They cause an accident that takes Abby's life but as far as she knows it was Wendy's fault??

And her last act before everything goes down to hell is an attempt to bring her back through the codex?????

Or something different I can't think of??????????

...

...................

...Few on the only things I know is that I want Wendy to still be involved in spiritualism to decipher the Codex while baby William got into dark arts as an attempt to bring Jack back. "Why would you? that doesn't makes sense" you may think

1.- None of this makes sense so shut up. I can't think that far

2.- I want William to still being able to create shadow puppets cuz I have a comic idea where he spawns one by accident and Jack haunts it and "gains a body". Mr. Webber puts a painful stop to it to prevent any possible danger or corruption and blah blah blah-

Ssssoooooooooo yeah

Everything's a mess but I'm glad you guys are enjoying the ride

I'll update you if I ever come up with a "canon" timeline)? and what not (I won't get mad if you come up with ideas to help either.....)

[sprinklepartyfall]

So, in light of this, and finding out Bloodmoon died apparently, the brainrot began, enjoy.

@o-i-w-u pspspspsps-

The trick board.

(Spirit/Monster?) Bloodmoon twins x Reader

[Insignificant Warnings: This is medium-long in length, I did not proofread this, it basically gets cut off as a cliffhanger at the end.]

In a far off timeline, the world was shattered. Chaos from the breakdown of the leaders and the cowardly actions of the followers. Luckily, you never liked people, so you were already pretty skilled at avoiding them, yay anti-social behavior-!

As a lone survivor, you learned pretty fast that most easy things were probably a trap made by other survivors. You had been currently walking around a store, sneaking around the people already there to grab supplies and go. That was before you heard them... talking to themselves? To air maybe?

Once you got a closer look, it seemed they'd been trying to use an ouija board... how someone could find one was a mystery, and why they would keep it was beyond you. But it was funny that they tried, and quite clearly failed to talk to whatever ghost or demon they were trying to find.

You stuck around, mostly since they were arguing and, well, it was over something stupid and you needed entertainment. That was when you got one idea, it only seemed to be three people... so you stole the ouija board while they were distracted, causing quite the fright when they noticed. Chaos was one thing that would never leave the broken world you lived in, and that was somehow a small comfort for you.

You'd left the building, walking through the shadows with your newly acquired item as the yelling of panic fades behind you. Was it mean? Yes. But was it funny? Hell yeah. The board, along with its little planchette, was under your arm.

You walked to an abandoned park nearby, climbing up a tree burgrudgingly so you wouldn't be spotted, and set the board down. You didn't expect it to work, so you didn't bother trying, unlike the probable ghost that made it quite clear it wanted to talk. You nearly fell out of the tree when you saw it start moving, firstly because that was definitely not just the wind, and Secondly because that's not how it worked...

The piece went to the 'hello' area showing this was happening whether you wanted it to or not, you did not get a say in this. But of course, after a couple minutes of stunned silence, the spirit spoke again; 'R-E-S-P-O-N-D–T-O–U-S' that wasn't comforting, that wasn't comforting at all, there were MULTIPLE.

"...Hi..." You mumbled out warily, panicking a lot more internally than externally. 'H-E-L-L-O' The spirit spelled out, even though there was a spot that already said hello- 'Y-O-U–L-I-V-E' The spirit pointed out, making you tense even more, maybe you were just insane? That would probably be... worse actually... "I am." You responded hesitantly, glancing around to make sure you weren't about to die some cruel death.

'W-H-Y–T-E-N-S-E' oh gee, you wonder why, it totally isn't the fact you're probably haunted or cursed now. "No reason." You stated simply, because you aren't going to be a jerk, that would be rude. "Who are you?" Your tone was polite although with a hint of anxiety, which was probably not fine. Most people would run from this... in fact, you would have been too, if it weren't for the fact you were in a tree, and would probably just lay there in defeat if you fell.

'B-L-O-O-D-M-O-O-N' You had to pause at that name, it wasn't common at all and definitely didn't scream "I'm friendly!" But you were probably stuck with it in some way now. "...nice to meet you." You responded politely, how else were you supposed to react to this? You were an anxious introvert and this was a potentially bloodthirsty ghost, not a great combination.

'Y-O-U–S-M-A-L-L' they pointed out, in which you weren't actually THAT small... so how tall was this ghost?? Apparently, much taller than you. "Okay... why are you... talking to me?" You asked, ignoring the strange spirits words. 'Y-O-U–L-O-O-K–F-R-A-G-I-L-E' the spirit responded, a sudden chill running down your spine as it spoke. "...is that a good thing to you?" You responded sheepishly, tilting your head slightly as you spoke. Instead of an answer, however, the planchette was thrown at your head, hitting the tree behind you. A few small bits of bark fell from the trees trunk, and you felt so thankful that you tilted your head out of its way.

"Nope, nope, nope, nope-" You started repeating as you moved to get up, you were ready to climb down and run now, but that was before you were grabbed by something... maybe someone.

You yelped, yet it was muffled by a cold hand over your mouth, another wrapped around your waist as you were pulled into the tree. Your eyes wideneding before shutting completely, a dizzy feeling overwhelming your senses as you were taken away.

Once you had regained your senses, finally opening your eyes, you were met with a void and... a face strangely close to you. You flinched back, now noticing the feeling of someone holding you from behind as they had chuckled at your feared reaction. "Other, they are finally awake." The one in your face stated with a grin.

It seemed like it was themed after the moon, yet showed no sign of silver aside from the silver star on its chest... it had various shades of red adoring its large form. It was a good four, maybe five feet taller than you and god was it intimidating. It looked like some sort of beast, claws, sharp teeth bared in that eerie grin it showed you. It looked... scaly in a way, its skin looked rough with the fading scars along its chest, arms, and left hip. It wore some sort of navy blue robe of sorts, yet it didn't cover much of its appearance like most would, more so just... kept it warm, maybe?

"Indeed other! It seems they survived!" The one that held you, or 'other'? Spoke, its excitement clear. its appearance quiet similar to the other creatures, the only differences being its star was gold, it had less scars, and it felt a bit fuzzy...

"They seem confused." 'Brother' spoke, its voice holding clear amusement as it held your chin up. "Yes, but I like them like this." 'Other' stated mischievously, squeezing your form in its grip, earning a slight squeak from you. "W-where am I‽" you blurted out, finally choking out the words stuck in your throat.

"In a void." 'Brother' stated bluntly, its grin widening slyly as it looked you up and down. "But- no- why-" You stammered, trying to lean away from both of them, but you couldn't move much... you were trapped with them. "Relax, little human! We won't hurt you, much~" 'Other' teased, pressing you further into it with a smug expression. "I-I can't stay here! I need to go back!" You exclaimed, trying desperately to reason with them, but it only earned chuckles of amusement. "No, no. You can' leave..." 'Brother' trailed off, both their grips on you tightening possessively...

"You're ours now, human."

————————————————————————

[Oh my god, I contemplated giving up like three times while writing this. This is what happens when I get a prompt and make it up as I go. My notes app says this is like nine pages long too.]

[takeyourcyanide]

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

AO3

Fandom: Soul Eater

Character(s): Spirit Albarn, Franken Stein, mentions of Kami

Tag(s): Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression (SFW), Men Crying, Mental Instability, Stuffed Toys, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 2 710

Summary: Stein sees a T-Rex stuffed animal, regresses before and after being allowed to purchase it, and shit also happens to hit the fan, because I don’t write for happy people LMAO

Note(s): I finally wrote more age regression like I said I would. I don’t like this a whole lot either, but I’m planning on writing some longer and better things, so hopefully that will happen. I am just posting this and Muse of Tragedy, because these are ideas I’ve had in my head for a long time that I simply never wrote. So, here!

The vivid, fluorescent lighting of the quaint drugstore left Stein internally grimacing, keeping his limbs close to his frame as to make himself seem smaller and further away from the blaring stimulus.

Going in one ear and out the other was the apparently endless rambling of Spirit, as he went on and on about Kami, and Valentine’s Day, and how he nearly forgot, and how he just has to buy her the cutest teddy bear ever. Franken merely hummed in response, scanning the aisles both curiously and indifferently, bored and more than prepared to exit the store.

As they, at long last, arrived at the line of shelves filled with stuffed-toys, particularly bears and rabbits holding non-anatomically correct hearts (Stein would much prefer to see anatomically correct heart candies) and lollipops, the meister spotted the best thing in the entire drugstore; a medium-sized Tyrannosaurus-Rex, greenish-brown in color, and without the glass eyes that left him suspecting whether or not it came equipped with a built-in camera.

Albarn grabbed on his chosen teddy, beginning to march away from the aisle and to the checkout area, as he glanced over at Stein conspicuously gazing longingly at a stuffed dinosaur, not moving, simply staring. The glint in his partner’s eyes was almost cute; childishly curious and desiring.

“Stein?” He called out. And before he could ask the boy whether or not he wanted him to buy the stuffed animal (he looked too intrigued by the toy to deny him of it), Franken turned towards him, not verbally requesting the stuffy, instead, pointing at it with an expectant and hopeful look to his countenance. He appeared as though he was preparing for disappointment, or to be yelled at. He honestly seemed to expect overly negative reactions rather often - too often - and something about that sent a pang of sorrow down Spirit’s tired spine. He’d never seen him look so childlike and tiny before.

Now he really couldn’t say no.

“You wanna get it?” Stein clumsily nodded his head once, a dramatic motion of his head as he pursed his lips slightly. “I didn’t think you were the type to like plushies. But sure, go ahead and grab it.”

“Dinosaur,” the meister said, holding the animal to his chest, moving to walk beside his weapon-partner, not ceasing his intense and elated staring content with it.

“Oh, yeah. You do like dinosaurs and all that science-y shit, so, I guess that makes sense,” the weapon shrugged his shoulders, grabbing it briefly from Stein, as he scanned the toy. The silver-haired boy seemed to subdue a pout, returning to his former blank state. “You want it back, right?” Spirit returned it into Franken’s hands, placing the bear he bought into a plastic bag, paying for the items.

“Thank you,” Stein mumbled, not exactly smiling, though the corners of his mouth were more upturned than usual.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” he felt more like something of a parental figure to him everyday, or at the very least, when his partner would begin acting… like whatever this was. But the meister’s policy was ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell,’ so interrogating him about his quirks would more than certainly get him nowhere. “You don’t have to pay me back or anything, by the way. Knowing you, though, you’d definitely find some sneaky-ass way to never pay me even if I wanted you to. You’ve done it before, you bastard! So, I know for a fact you would!”

Stein giggled mischievously in a hushed voice, Spirit joyfully smiling and chuckling to himself as he listened to it. He hadn’t heard the male really laugh in a long while, he’d seemed rather morose and sort of lacking in any and all emotion as of late - even more so than typical, which he frankly didn’t think was even possible. And for what reason his partner was behaving more overtired and flat, the ginger did not know.

They exited the drugstore, Stein seeming more relieved in a sense as they were shrouded in the shadows of the night, the desert air much cooler than just a few hours ago.

<——————————————————>

Stein plopped swiftly down onto the sofa with his prized plushie, Spirit sitting beside him and placing the lovey-dovey teddy bear onto the coffee table, where the tissue paper and gift bag happened to be located.

Whilst writing thoughtful sweet-nothings on the sparkly and shiny card he had bought a little while back, he made repeated glances at his partner, of whom was merely sitting and staring into space, a more petulant, yet deadpan twinge to his countenance.

He looked awfully squeezable, however, with his stuffy tucked against his sternum, his knees holding the toy even closer. Perhaps this newfound affectionate feeling he didn’t think he’d ever feel towards Stein would dissipate once the meister said anything about ripping someone limb from limb.

“You okay over there?” He chortled, his brows pinching together in mild concern as he signed the glimmering card, placing it into the bag along with the heart and candy-holding bear.

Franken remained particularly unresponsive and immobile, it was almost as though he was entirely zoned-out of life itself, not present in the room with Spirit. Though there was something stirring within him, he could see it in his exhausted and narrow eyes, they were both decomposing and lively simultaneously in a way that only Stein could achieve.

“Hey. Did you hear me?” Albarn poked his arm, only to receive nothing back.

He inched closer to his partner, untucking and lifting Stein’s arm from the stuffed T-Rex as gently as he could, as to hopefully not startle him. Though, perhaps if he were to startle him, he’d scare him out of his current stupor.

As he raised his appendage, he moved it up and down almost playfully, stopping and leaving it to hang right in the middle. And his arm did not fall.

Spirit rose an eyebrow in the face of this strange behavior; Stein had gotten like this before - he’d refuse to speak, and would either move too much, not too much, or very robotically. But he had never done this before.

Albarn simply stared at the unmoving arm for a moment, confused and worried, not even noticing the salty tear falling from his meister’s right eye, or the way his chest made abrupt movements as noiseless sobs escaped him.

He gazed upwards, eyes widening at the sight before him, as he marginally began to panic.

“What’s wrong, Stein? Don’t cry,” he hadn’t realized before how much the sight of his counterpart weeping would both upset him and frighten him. “Was it something I did? I’ll never touch you without asking again, how about that? Please don’t cry.”

Spirit’s eyes flicked all over the room as he pondered how in the world he could possibly comfort his meister. He’d never seen him cry before, how was he supposed to know?

“Na’ yu,” Stein murmured under his breath, his tone sounding pained as though it was his first time attempting to speak.

“Not me? It wasn’t me, then? Can I touch you?” Spirit reached his arms out, retracting them, only to flail them outwards once more.

He didn’t reply again, instead focusing on trying to relearn how to move his body, desiring to position his arm back into its former place.

Spirit noticed this, grabbing his arm and moving it to tuck around his plushie just how it was before.

“T’an’ yu,” he whispered out slowly, mechanically.

“Of course,” the weapon reesponded with a polite smile, looking around the room one more time, before just pulling his partner over to him, essentially sitting him on his lap, shoving his head into the crook of his anxious neck.

This more than certainly alarmed Stein, his eyes bulging, as he acted on instinct - squirming and writhing out of his grasp.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I didn’t mean to freak you out, I’m sorry,” he shushed his perturbation in the sweetest voice he could possibly muster. Stein sat up, perched on his thighs, as his bottom lip seemed to quiver lightly in response to his former statement. More tears bubbled up in his eyes, spilling over, as the scientist shoved himself right back to where the redhead had originally pushed him, choking on pitiful sobs.

“Shh…… I’m sorry. This is all so.. not you, I just don’t know what to do - I’m sorry,” he held his head, thinking to himself ‘Well, at least he moved for the first time in however many minutes he hadn’t.’ Spirit soothingly rubbed up and down his back, his nails dragging along empathetically. “And I know you never tell anyone anything.. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. I know this must be really scary already, isn’t it?”

Stein had evidently lost control of himself. It was clear as day to anyone that he had unwillingly began blubbering, as he repeatedly attempted to hush himself up, his efforts ultimately proving to be in vain.

He nodded his head in agreement with the weapon’s question, as he sniffled into Albarn’s shirt, his hands still maintaining their iron grip on the stuffed toy.

“Yeah, I know it is,” Franken was seriously the absolute last person he expected to be coddling. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’m sorry. I’m always here, okay? You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you need to, you always can. Whatever was happening earlier didn’t look too comfortable or fun.”

Stein hummed in agreement once more, the noise reverberating within his overtired throat, as he huffed out another sob.

He brought one of his hands to his face, placing his thumb in his mouth, gently suckling on it, as his chest bumped up and down due to the suppressed wailing.

While it was a considerably strange thing for a teenager to do, Spirit couldn’t care less what Stein found tranquillizing, so long as it helped him.

“It’s okay to cry, Stein. I’m not judging you. I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. You’re stubborn, so I know you won’t believe me, but I’m not gonna tell anyone, I swear,” he tenderly attempted to reassure the meister.

That only sent more tears running down his flushed face, as Stein glanced cautiously up at the ginger, whimpering into his finger.

Spirit grinned down at him, whispering, “You don’t have to believe a word I say, okay? I can see it in your eyes,” he adoringly flicked Stein’s forehead. “I don’t know what exactly is so hard for you, but I can see it’s hard for you. Stop arguing with yourself in there. Stop thinking about whatever it is for a minute. How about we play with your little dinosaur?”

He snuffled, lazily and begrudgingly removing his face from his weapon’s neck, making his stuffy more visible to the both of them.

As he did as such, Albarn could get a much better look at his blotchy, tear-stained face, a pout stretching his poor lips.

“Do you have a name for it yet?” Spirit prodded softly, restricting the urge to fondly crush the male he had seated on his femurs, as he stared shyly down at the dinosaur.

When he received no response, he assured, “You don’t have to speak, that’s okay. We can just play with it, or do whatever you want to do with it… Except dissecting it!” He earned another precious titter from Stein.

The meister held the T-Rex up to Spirit’s doting face, the ginger patting it jestingly on the head.

Stein chuckled, sniffling a bit once more, as he patted the scythe on his own head.

“Top hat,” the aspiring scientist vaguely spoke.

“What about a top hat?” He confusedly questioned.

The giggly meister pointed at the dinosaur’s head, staring inquisitively at his weapon, trying his best to temporarily forget about the bickering and the static and the inevitable.

“Oh, I see! We should get a top hat for your T-Rex, shouldn’t we?” Stein nodded his head, biting on his bottom lip in thought.

“‘N f’r you,” he elucidated, slurring his words in a baby-ish voice.

“Oh, really? Wouldn’t I just look dashing in one?” Spirit said in an overly and theatrically elegant manner, his visage contorting into a rather silly expression, leaving Stein to grin.

“No,” he was a menace, but at least he was honest.

The redhead feigned taking offense to his utter brutality, fake-crying with a hand on his chest. Franken heartily laughed, or rather, sadistically, and yet innocently, concurrently.

Abruptly, his giggles ceased, as a deep and troubled sigh escaped his lips, his countenance falling and returning to its earlier indiscernible oddity.

Spirit’s did just the same, his brows furrowing as he solicitously studied the meister’s body language and face.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He was hoping to Death that he would enjoy being referred to with touchy-feely nicknames in the state he was currently in, and that they’d relax him somewhat.

“Top hats and your dinosaur can’t really distract you, huh?” Stein sat still, blankly staring down at the stuffed toy. “That bad?” He nodded.

“Is there anything I can do?” His eyes watered once again as he processed the question being asked, moving his head from side to side, as he wanted nothing more than to forbid the tears from rolling.

“Not’ing,” he mewled. “I can’t ev’n do not’ing.”

“Aw,” he brought Stein in once again, warmly hushing his bawling. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so fussy, baby.”

Franken immediately looked up at Spirit, his eyes switching from wide-set at first to squinted and glazed over, his fingers immediately making their way back to his mouth, as his previously taut figure melted into the weapon’s chest.

“F’ssy,” he shakily repeated, hiccuping.

“Yeah, fussy,” Stein nuzzled into this shoulder, one arm holding his dinosaur, the other wrapping around his partner and gripping his shirt, as he sniveled even more so.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.. It’ll be okay, Stein.”

“Won’,” he denied in a voice Spirit found it difficult not to coo at.

“Even if that’s the case, I’m always here, okay? You know that right?”

“M’no.”

Spirit delicately scratched at his scalp, primping his unkempt hair. “Hm…. That’s okay. I guess I’ll just have to show you, then, huh?”

“Don’ think I can live much longer,” he stumbled over his words, unsteadily speaking. “Na’ able.”

Albarn’s expression gave in to his sullen feelings, as he patted Stein’s back, rocking them both from side to side.

“No, you can make it through, you’re strong,” he encouraged the boy.

“You don’ get it,” he yowled. “Na’ my choice. Can’ do not’ing ad’all.”

Spirit continued to shush him, as that was all he could do, petting his hair, stroking his back, ensuring him that he’d always be there.

“‘M all gone. Bye-bye,” it was difficult to make much sense of what he was saying, but there was something at the bottom of the scythe’s soul that almost could grasp it.

<——————————————————>

Eventually, Stein’s eyes sluggishly closed, though he tried eagerly to hold them open. His sobs died down, his sniffling coming to a close, as he no longer babbled.

Spirit peered down at the male’s face, sympathizing with him as he witnessed how swollen and red his eyes were, his eyelashes doused in teardrops, cheeks completely damp. Even his neck was moist with the droplets that flowed downwards.

The weapon carefully and attentively pushed the meister’s bangs out of the way, caressing the side of his face perceptible to him, as he tucked the loose and free hair behind his ear.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he muttered, disquieted by the whole ordeal. “I hope you can learn to trust me. I’m sure that won’t be easy, though, huh? You’ve never trusted anyone your life, have you?”

And he hadn’t. That much was evident.

As he held Franken’s body in his arms, he didn’t dare to move, even as he groaned and whimpered in a distressed and distraught manner in his sleep.

Was he supposed to wake him? Or would that only prove to make him more fussy and irritable?

He never knew what he was meant to do when it came to Stein.

He could only pray that one day he’d finally figure the meister out.

[mosneakers]

Coraleye: So... what should we do first? Tycho: I thought you'd have that planned out, these are your stomping grounds after all. Coraleye: Well, I guess we could-

Tycho: [Suddenly gasps]

Coraleye: Babe? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost! Tycho: I THINK I JUST DID. Coraleye, is that merchant... [whispers] dead?

Coraleye: Huh? [Looks behind her at smiling merchant selling herbs] Oh her? [Hysterical laughter] Honey, you are so cute! No she's not dead. She's just astral projecting. Or Dream-seeking, spirit-walking, soul-traveling, whatever you want to call it. We have lots of terms for it. Basically, some souls who have ability can travel to the realm to hang out or work or whatever. Don't worry, you won't see any ghosts here unless you're a medium. [Wink.]

Tycho: Ah. Comforting.

Coraleye: Oh, don't look now, but over there, is Harmony Cobb... I don't know if you remember me telling you about her- Tycho: Of course I do. She was the spellcaster that sold her plasma to Morgyn at that New Year's party, that indirectly led them to... [voice trails off] ...yeah.

Coraleye: Wow. Impressive memory, you! Maybe we should get out of here. She and I haven't talked since that night happened, I don't want her to see me. It'd be so awkward. Tycho: Too late, she's coming over here now...

Harmony: Coraleye Darling? It's been so long since I've seen you here, is that really you?

Coraleye: Yep, it's me! Live and in person. Not a ghost. heh.

[dani-says-stuff]

Robert the Doll

❥ Back to the Control Center

❥ Nate Hardy Masterlist

❥ Link to Part 2: Your Very Own Attachment

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Nate Hardy x fem!medium(?) reader

Summary: You follow the boys to Key West and visit Robert the Doll.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: creepy stuff, hauntings, some language, Robert the Doll, probably an inaccurate spirit box session, inconsistent capitalization, and ok writing

Dialogue Key:

Y/N

Nate

Sam

Colby

Spirit Box

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

“Hey, all I’m saying, is if I get cursed by doing this, I’ll personally murder the both of you and take over your channel” you spoke with a sickly sweet smile while approaching the large glass case where Robert the doll was sat.

The boys had decided the perfect way to start the night, was to do the very thing you were all warned not to. what could possibly go wrong?

unlike the boys, you decided to smile in your picture. candids rarely look good, and if you’re getting cursed tonight, you’re going to look great doing it.

Nate stood infront if you ready to take your picture. If you focused hard enough, it almost felt like one of the cute impromptu photoshoots he’d insist on during dates, not taking a picture with a creepy doll. Well- at least until you heard it.

Your smile strained and eyes widened, “Nate- are you done yet?”

the flash finally went off and he pulled the camera down, looking to you with furrowed eyebrows, “yeah… why?”

you whipped around, facing the glass. “I just heard- please tell me you heard that” you spoke turning to the two boys recording off to the side.

Sam and Colby looked at each other, then back to your panicked face, “uh, no? what did you hear Y/N?”

you quickly backed up next to nate, who quickly wrapped his arm around your shoulders. ”It sounded like someone was tapping against the glass.”

Colby was stunned for a moment, dropping the camera down and looking at you with wide eyes, “are you serious? right before the picture?”

Sam, on thé other hand, quickly took the camera and rushed to the case, trying to figure out whatever it was you’d heard.

“I don’t see anything.” the blonde called back to you, “i mean there are finger prints but it’s also a museum” he shrugged, “a ton of people probably touch the glass.”

you hummed, “yeah, can we move on now?” you laughed nervously, “i’m good with ghosts and stuff, but dolls have always freaked me out.”

nate reached a hand out to the doll, knowing how superstitious you could be, “no offense of course-”

“oh of course not!” you spoke quickly cutting your boyfriend off, “You’re, uh, you’re a beautiful doll! i’ve just never- look i even thought barbie’s were creepy!”

the room was quiet for a second before you began to laugh, finally realizing the ridiculousness of your mini word vomit. to a doll.

The boys began laughing as well, “oh my god” sam whipped his eyes, “I really wish i hadn’t turned off the camera now-”

The four of you laughing harder as you left the room, Sam turning the camera back on and angling it to get everyone in frame, “Ok, I don’t know if that was a bad idea-”

“It was definitely a bad idea” you scoffed.

“Yeah, N/N heard somethings while taking her picture.” nate grimaced.

Sam looked back guilty, “yeah- definitely was a bad idea… but we did that at the beginning of the night to see if the curse was real.”

“i bet you $10 it’s real” you whispered up to nate.

he laughed softly before leaning down, planing a kiss on the top of your head, “yeah, absolutely not, no chance it’s not real.”

“yeah, 10,000 stories? no shot it’s not real.”

“exactly.”

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

“I also heard that this was the Harry Potter portal-”

“no way in hell dude!“ you yelled out, “old fireplace with creepy attachements? oh yeah that definitely screams harry potter to me.”

Colby simply shrugged, getting in a stance to run straight into a brick wall.

“hey” you quickly spoke up after your friend face planted the wall, “if i do that, can you edit me going through the wall? please?”

They did. Later on the video would colby running into the wall, falling with a groan, and then you jumping straight through. you may have gotten an attachment from it- but hey, you only live once.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

“well- at least it smells a lot better in here.” you looked around, “and it feels a lot less crowded that’s for sure.”

Colby looked at you like you were insane, “dude i don’t know what you’re talking about it still feels creepy in here.”

“i didn’t say it wasn’t creepy- just less crowded”

“Oh that’s right,“ sam turned the camera, placing himself in the frame with you behind him, “if you’re new or haven’t seen our other videos with Y/N, they’re a medium-”

“i wouldn’t exactly say that” you laughed softly.

“ok… not like Amanda, they can’t see anything like she can and stuff, but Y/N is hypersensitive to these things. You can see in other videos, and probably this one as well, that a lot of her feelings end up matching with what our equipment will say.”

You left the boys downstairs to fill in the viewers on the history, going up the stairs to look around until they catch up.

“alright,” nate called out as he climbed the steps, “how’s it looking?”

you turned to the boys, “well- pick one” you pointed to the stairs and the door behind you, “Robert or Anne?”

“which one do i want to know?” sam asked nervously.

you shrugged, “neither is too horrible yet, one just gives off a lot more energy than the other. The stairs to the attic just feel heavy, almost foreboding? Meanwhile when i walked in Anne’s room it felt very sad and scared. a bit like- retained or constricted too.”

Nate nodded quickly, “that makes sense, she wasn’t allowed to play her music, she would feel sorta constricted.”

“True imagine having to spend youre entire life unable to do the thing you love because your spouse wanted to be the center of attention.” colby spoke up, “that must be horrible.”

Nate looking down to you with a raised eyebrow, causing you to scoff, “Babe, as much as i love being the center of attention, i’d never do that to you.”

he smirked, throwing an arm around you and leading you through the door, “just making sure.”

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

after a promising conversation with anne that confirmed most of what you thought, you all made your way to the attic.

Even after Sam’s weird chest pain, which you insisted he take a moment for, the blonde was persistent.

You walked up to the stairs, barely placing a foot on the step before nate grabbed your wrist, “absolutely not” he muttered, moving you behind him, “you’re not going first.”

“i’ve done enough stuff like this before, it’s fine.” you sighed, watching him go up.

“yeah, but this is an old building with an old attic, we don’t know how stable it is up here.”

you flushed a bit as you climbed up behind him, grabbing his hand as he helped you up. Sam and colby’s abnoxious ‘awww-ing’ behind you was definitely not helping to relive your embarrassment.

You looked around, “yeah i definitely don’t like it up here.” you muttered to yourself, moving to investigate a further section with nate basically glued to your side.

unfortunately, the boys overheard your words. standing back at the entrance and whispering to the camera with matching mischievous smiles, “well, Y/N is definitely not going to be a fan of the solo investigations then“

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

After going over to check out the hospital, the four of you went back to check on the polaroids you’d all taken earlier that night.

They flipped the four over, all of you momentarily forgetting about the extra photo you’d taken. The false sense of security you’d gained seeing four photos placed perfectly on the bannister evaporated the second the fourth picture was flipped, revealing a second photo of Colby.

You’re face paled, “guys… where’s mine?“

nate grabbed your hand, “did we just knock it over on accident?“

colby flashed the light, catching a hint of white peaking out from the banister. “Oh, found it. at least it landed face down so it could still develop.“ He spoke trying to find a bright side to this. especially since it had landed directly against the glass.

Sam walked over when Colby had frozen, rapidly turning the photo over. Colby had reached over showing it to him. The blonde quickly gasped, “no way.”

“what?“ you looked between them frantically, “what is it?“

“turns out the photo didn’t land upside down.“ Colby looked up at you, flipping it so you could see as well, “it’s just blank on both sides.“

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

“Ok, so, now that we’ve done our little portraits“ you spoke up from the floor, “where are we going for our solo investigations. I just know you two have something planned.“

“What?“ Colby gasped offended, “What would make you say that Y/N? we would never!”

you raised an eyebrow at the boy, “the way you and sam are looking at me right says otherwise.”

Sam stepped forward, camera in hand, “ok, so you may be right.“

“i’m always right.“

“damn straight”

“We thought, while i go to the tunnel and colby goes on his own… both you and nate could investigate robert.”

you turned to your boyfriend, both of you wearing wide smiles, “oh, that’s not too bad.”

“we get guest privileges!“ nate cheered.

“oh no no no“ colby laughed, “you’re not exactly doing it together.“

Sam smiled mischievously, “since Robert and Gene had a bond-”

“oh no.”

“-and you both also have a bond… we thought we could replicate that tonight.”

“oh no.”

“Nate, you will stay with robert, and Y/N will go back up to the attic.”

your jaw dropped at the blondes words, “you’re kidding.”

“nope, wouldn’t it be cool if your answers aligned? like through a spiritual connection?”

you sighed, moving forward and ripping the large flashlight from Colby, gathering some equipment, “i hate you two.”

you moved to your boyfriend, hugging him tight before you left to go to the attic. “i love you, be safe.“ nate quickly parroting the words back and kissing the top of your hair.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

you turned on the small camera you brought, filming blair witch style as you climbed the stairs, “this fucking sucks.”

you sat in the most central part of the attic you could after setting up a music box by the entrance, your drawing to your right, spirit box in hand, and camera facing you.

“Hello to any and all spirits that can hear me right now. There’s a music box over there that will go off if you pass by it, and i have a spirit box right here. It uses radio signal to piece together words and allow you to talk to me. You can use either of these things as well as any other medium you wish, like knocks or thuds, to answer my questions or you can completely ignore me if you wish. I do not want to make you uncomfortable so only do what you want to, there is no pressure.“

you turn on the spirit box, and wait. you turn, addressing the camera, “guys, we said it earlier“ you spoke fanning yourself, “but it is so incredibly-“

hot.

your eyes widened looking to the device, “yes, hot. it’s hot very hot in here”

a hum came through the box next, seemingly agreeing with your words.

“ok“ you breathed out, “so there’s someone in here?“

Yes.

“who are you?“

many.

your brow furrowed, “are there many spirits here.“

no.

am many.

then it clicked. the doll. one robert, but many spirits inside of him. “Am i talking to robert right now?“

no answer. you we’re about to rephrase you question when the music box went off behind you.

“hello? has someone else joined us.“

yes.

“what is your name?“

A

“A?” you tilted your head in thought, “Anne? is that-“ the music box went off.

you smiled in the direction of the music box, “Anne if that is you thank you for coming up and joining me. i appreciate it.”

stuck

“are you stuck here?”

together

you sighed sadly “are you stuck here with robert and gene?”

no

“then how are you stuck?”

the same words came through the radio, closer this time.

stuck

together

follow

you sat, back facing your camera, surely colby will have a blast editing the sound to make it less muffled, but if Anne came to the attic to speak to you, it only felt fair to generally in her direction.

you

with you

once again a soft smile graced your features, “you’ve stuck with me tonight?” you questioned

yes

the box spat out immediately

yes

protect

“Anne, am i right when saying youve been following us tonight and protecting us?“

no.

you.

you nodded, “saying that you’ve been following me and protecting-“

yes.

you smiled softly at the word, “thank you anne, i really appreciate that.” you paused, allowing anyone to speak if they wished, “Anne, was that robert? before you came up?“

yes

left.

“robert left?”

yes

“where did he go? do you know where he went?”

man

black jacket

“black jacket man?” nate. nate was wearing a black jacket earlier. “Are you talking about nate?“

yes

left to talk

you made a mental note in your mind, making sure to ask him if he ended up getting anything in his investigation. you we’re about to ask another question to the woman, but she cut you off first.

go.

she was just talking with you so nice and calmly and then just- go?

sick.

help.

go.

you reached back picking up the camera and facing it in the direction of the music box, which seemed to go off periodically as if someone was pacing.

“i don’t understand.”

running

help

sick

go

“a-are you saying that something is coming here? i should go?” you could feel your heart beating fast. the spirit box rapidly spitting words and increasing sense of stress in the room wasn’t helping.

tunnel

sick

run

boy

mistake

you almost jumped out of your skin when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, and basically did when the robotic voice said the word right as you read it off the text message.

sam

mistake

it was a message from sam, something had happened and to please come back and meet up so he could explain.

mistake

mistake

suddenly the music box stopped, nothing came through the radio, and the feeling of anxiety dissipated, leaving only the eerie heaviness you felt the first time.

you quickly gathered all your equipment, and rushed down the stairs and back to the museum.

You have a strong feeling you were being followed the entire way back, but you didn’t worry now that you knew it was only anne, rushing along side you as you went to your friends.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

you eventually found him sitting in the grass, “Yo! Sam, are you alright?“

“i think i just had a new experience…“

you sat next to him, out of breath from running, “slightly random question” he nodded, “did you get sick?”

Sam looked at you wide eyed, “how in the hell…“

you smiled, spinning in a small circle to look at the empty space near you, “thank you Anne!”

the blonde raised an eyebrow, “anne? what? what are you talking about?”

you only smiled, “i have some absolutely ridiculous footage to show you all”

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

after sharing experiences and comparing footage you all decided, before you left, it would be for the best to apologize to Robert.

“Robert, do you accept our apology?“ you asked last.

Get out.

you hummed nervously, ”o-ok, uh, we understand and we’ll be leaving now” you spoke ushering the boys out of the room, “once again we are sorry for crossing the line.”

you walked to the door way, “oh- and thank you anne, if you’re still here, for coming with me tonight.” those were the last words you spoke before booking it out of the building.

That was of course, until the four of you stood in front of the building, firmly stating that nothing was welcome to follow you back to your homes.

…well, you did give anne some leeway incase she ever felt like stopping in again.

Part 2: Your Very Own Attachment

[thickness-protection-program]

Since this seems to be wandering from Pencil that Fuck to Blending Hour, have you ever used mineral spirits to blend colored pencils? I've tried many times but I just can't seem to blend out the strokes the way everybody else is able to. I use pencils with high pigment load and I've tried soft and heavy strokes for color application. Do you have any tips?

My preferred method of blending is just using the pencils themselves but I do use mineral spirits sometimes for backgrounds. And yeah you definitely have to learn how to use it properly. My tips would be

Whatever you use to apply it, it's better for it to be rounded. A rounded paint brush is what I use

Don't use too much at once bc then you start to move too much pigment and you drench the paper in liquid. After I dip my brush in the spirits I then dab it on a paper towel or something before using it

Work in layers. Do a light to medium layer of pencil first then blend. And let it dry!! Another layer of pencil then blend again and again until you get your desired finish. But be careful bc doing it too many times once again you start to move too much pigment

In my experience wax based pencils work better with mineral spirits since they're generally softer than oil based

[emptymanuscript]

One of the essays sitting and percolating in my brain is about how much (and more importantly WHY) I loathe the idea of Hard vs. Soft magic systems and how terribly these concepts are for thinking about magicbuilding.

While also in no way objecting to Sanderson's 3 Laws of Magic which I actually love because they are so clever and usable. I'm all for them.

It's a dialectic. Sue me. I just don't think that the 3 laws actually necessitate the hardness scale of magic. At all. And in some ways the two ideas actively work against each other.

I just know it is a HUGE essay, involving a lot of work and data gathering. And I feel like I can't be bothered to expend that much effort within even the medium term. So... it just kind of sits there and occasionally I'll run into something that reminds me: oh, yeah, I kinda wanna do that. Like, this is pretty good but it would be ten times as brilliant if you weren't hampered by the idea of a hardness scale of magic.

I ran into somebody today trying to talk about a pyramid of magic users that was partly dependent on this idea of a chart of Magic Hardness on the Y axis and Diversity of Magical Expression on the X axis. For four fundamental quadrants of Hard Diverse, Hard Same, Soft Diverse, and Soft Same. The last of which he couldn't think of any examples of and I'm just sitting here thinking: yeah, because one of your axes is wrong and its getting in the way of you saying something brilliant.

Think instead of several diversities: Sources of Magic, Types of Magic, Expressions of Magic, and User Variability as a 4D model. Each converging at 0, no magic. Each going to ∞, meaning each kind is entirely individual to the caster and is measured by the number of casters instead of the number of magics. And useful numbers for fiction falling somewhere in the relatively low range of numbers.

So, for the favorite Hard Magic (grumble) example, AtlA, you would have 1 source of magic: Chi. 5 types of magic: Water, Earth, Fire, Air, and Spirit. Then 2 basic expressions of magic: Elemental Control and Spiritual Control. And finally a relatively low (numbers aren't very useful but expectations are) amount of user variability in that expression. This can be shown to the audience with any level of clarity, without altering the system itself.

For the favorite Soft Magic (still grumbling) example, LotR, you would have an unknown number of sources of magic because it is never really delved into. However, it is possible to count what actually appears, and that is a low number, with some possible overlap: There's magic in the race you belong to, there's magic in the divine plan, there's magic in words and speech, there's magic in things sublimely crafted, there's magic in your intent, there's magic in birthright (not your race but your family lineage), there's magic in herb-lore and nature, there's magic in corruption, and there's magic in knowing/wisdom. It is possible to divide all those into separate categories or to unify all those into the singular Divine Will with many offshoots. The types of magic, again, are not enumerated and delved into but can be counted. There seems to be mostly the use of (un)natural phenomenon, communication/command/seduction, knowing/wisdom/fortune telling/working with fate, crafting things to do magic for you, necromancy/corruption, and oaths. Again there is overlap or not depending on opinion since the story doesn't delve into it. And user variability is fairly high in that it isn't particularly useful to know what one magic user can do in order to predict what another magic user can do. And this is really what makes it a "soft system" that whatever rules underlie the system are not only not communicated to the reader directly but aren't communicated in such a way that the underlying system is deducible. It is entirely possible to make a "Hard Magic System" (just ugh) that would produce exactly what we see in LotR. What makes it soft is the information we get, not the system itself.

And that really is my basic issue with Hard/Soft Magic as an idea. It conflates multiple different bits of information into a single bit that isn't dictated by any one of the original bits.

The Idea of Hard vs. Soft Magic relies on the idea that the perception of the Magic System is the same in the Imagination of the Author, their Expectations of the Audience and that Audience's Reception, their intentions, the Encoded piece of Art - the text itself, the Consensus Audience's Interpretations, the Individual Audience's Interpretations, AND the cultural interpretation of story as applied to this whole mess.

While literally none of that has to be true.

It is (accidentally?) doing the precision opposite of what the Artist Philosophy does at its worst. It is elevating the audience experience of Story over every other factor. It is essentially saying that every other position on the map must accept "my" interpretation and play to it. It's flipping the script - ex: men are good so women are bad but now we've had our glorious revolution so now women are good so men are bad - instead of actually addressing the problem inherent in the script - one gender is portrayed as superior to another.

BUT that's like two examples out of... hundreds? Thousands? Per year! >_<

Two texts aren't a sufficient corpus of material to talk about these sorts of things. Neither is one figure to illustrate the issue out of one textbook. And I just DON'T want to deal with that level of work. Especially since no one will really particularly care. And the minority that would be interested are generally pretty happy with the Hard / Soft divide because they're the readers whose views are being reflected. So...

:/

No point.

And this is why I shouldn't write essays anyway. I just wrote an essay about NOT writing an essay >_< I have issues >_< it's just... so much thought on how to do things on the back end (writing and worldbuilding advice) which is growing excellently right now would be so much better without that Hard-Soft conceit which is just... *sigh* an entire essay on why it is an issue. With half probably devoted to soothing egos and rough reactions of 'but it works for me.' Which is the point. The entire point.

And ugh.

And I'm probably only putting work into this in this way here so I won't feel the need to lash out at my sister quite so intensely. Again >_< I have issues.

And thanks for reading / sorry for writing. You know. Me and essays :/