#MY REFLECTIONS AND WATER THEORIES ARE INTACT
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The Pool Scene: no reflections anymore, we're in the water now
This post fits in with the rest of my mirrors and fire and water series, but there was simply too much to put into one of those posts, so it gets one of its own!
This is the scene we have all been waiting for. And not only because of the trailer—but because it's been foreshadowed since early in the season.
In the first instance of The Pool, Kinn is testing the waters (heh) for how Porsche feels about him—if he remembers their kiss. They are super reflected and separate from each other. The surface of the pool is still, and there are hidden feelings under that smooth surface.
The second time, it’s when they’ve been through some shit (eps 9-10) and are trying to reconcile. They make further progress than they did last time they were here—Porsche asks Kinn to trust him and Kinn kisses him in response—but it’s still not a full admission of love or trust. They are still reflected, but it’s lesser, and the surface of the pool has more ripples. They’re also physically a lot closer (kissing).
The third time, it’s when they say the words "I love you" to each other in full admittance of feelings. It comes right after Kinn has declared how much he trusts Porsche to Porsche’s parents, and it comes in the wake of his promise to start anew in the ~proposal~ scene in ep 12. They are no longer reflected because they are in the water, and the surface is full of bubbles and waves and movement, and they are as physically close as they can get (literally fucking).
It’s important that we as the audience recognise the significance of this and the weight of this scene and everything that has been building up to it. We wouldn’t have had this scene now, like this, if they weren’t in a place where they fully loved and trusted each other. Kinn especially. His entire character arc has been about trust and how trusting Porsche has brought him freedom, and that’s been shown through the use of mirrors and reflections and where and when he’s been reflected—so this is super important for his character arc, because he’s not reflected anymore. By being in the pool, in the water, he's in the place where the reflections once were, broken free of that duality of self that has dogged his footsteps since episode 1. He can no longer be confronted with his reflections and the lurking mafia side of him, because he has chosen Porsche. He is his full self. He’s converged.
It’s also important for their relationship, because they can’t lie to each other when they’re in water. In ep 6 they find water and we get the first instance that episode of Kinn being himself. There's the ep 6 river kiss, indulging in what they wanted with each other. There's the ep 8 pool kiss, unable to stop themselves from kissing even if it meant getting caught, because their feelings are just so huge and joyful. So now, even though we know that Porsche is hiding things from Kinn, we know that none of this is a lie. It is all 100% true and genuine feelings, and even if they weren’t having sex in the ~pool of truth~ or whatever, that much is evident just from Apo’s acting. To quote @the-wayside, it’s all about the equality—there is no cutting away, nothing obscured. They are completely honest and true in their feelings for each other.
And that’s why it’s so important that we got this scene before Porsche left! Because this whole time, despite what he’s doing, he doesn’t want to betray Kinn or stop loving him or stop trusting him. I said this in my post about trust but if anything, the presence of this scene here just serves to further reinforce the fact that Porsche does trust Kinn.
It’s also a good bye of sorts (I should clarify, not a permanent one, Porsche was very much intending on coming back once he knew the truth, and Kinn gave him his heart in the ep 7 balcony scene and Porsche promised to return it and to come back to him). It parallels ep 7 in lots of ways, actually. Ep 7—the bathroom scene in particular—was what I consider the start of their genuine relationship, and while this is not the end, Porsche knows he is about to leave. Ep 7 is a promise on Kinn’s behalf to try to trust Porsche. Ep 13 is a promise on Porsche’s behalf that he can trust him, and that he is going to trust Kinn. And it’s a promise of their love. It's a promise to come back to him. Yeah, next episode is gonna be a rollercoaster, but I know this: KP’s love is not gonna waver, not one bit, not after this.
#kinnporsche#kinnporsche meta#kinnporsche the series#kp*#why yes i have been planning this post since about episode 4 thanks for asking#i feel like there is even more to say probably as well but just ahhhh#MY REFLECTIONS AND WATER THEORIES ARE INTACT#I AM VINDICATED JUST LIKE I HAD DREAMT OF BEING
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Excerpts from Dedusmuln’s Academic Essay on The Nature of Paper Cups
The following passages your visual organs are about to witness have been extracted from Dr. Dedusmuln’s postdoctoral analysis on the elusive paper cups that they discovered whilst helping save the planet from King Gibby’s tyranny.
As the original had been transcribed on 115 slabs of polymer, these excerpts were taken from segments deemed most coherent to the common, non-archeological minded hylic as per the doctor’s request, so that all may pleasantly approach the concept of these ancient cups' true potential.
Slab 3
Now that I have introduced your beings to the microcosm of the paper cup, I can imagine one question must be manifesting in your minds: What is paper?
As is the current theory, paper is a texture that once bloomed throughout the planet during the dominion of the one-lifes. They were the larval form of much larger sedentary organisms called trees, which were not too dissimilar to that of our vegetables in that they were vertical and most-likely green in color and/or soul, but vastly different in their manifestation.
A single piece of paper would be crumpled up and buried into the earth, acting as the “egg” for which the stalk of a tree would hatch out of and mutate. Over time its soft flesh would harden into a thick carapace known as “bark,” for which the one-lifes would shred to produce thousands of pieces of paper. Some of these trees were said to be as tall as our cities’ buildings!
The one-lifes molded all kinds of things out of paper, including but not limited to: writing slabs, clothing, wall-clinging memos, medicated water-closet paper for personal use, birds, money, towers, masks, and most importantly cups. It was through these cups that one-lifes were able to intake liquid, their most powerful source of energy, from coolers in order to stay alive as long as their bodies would allow.
Paper cups were also quite remarkable in their dexterity! Whilst most paper would weaken under the moistness of such a liquid’s viscosity, the cup could most easily contain the clear juice without the threat of disintegrating. They were able to withstand crushing grip of a one-life larva, and could even be used to catch a deluge!
Slab 4
As wondrous as these facts are, however, this durability has sadly become a luxury of the past biosphere that cannot be replicated more than once now due to their immense age. Once a paper cup is used now, it’s gone forever.
Most modern era science has classified paper as a “theoretical concept” texture; one that may have existed at some point on this planet before Accretion 0 but can no longer maintain its form on our current biosphere. This prevailing attitude metamorphosed after Dr. Smuldunde’s success in their Greater Toothpick Expedition, however, due to their world-altering discovery of full intact wood textures.
If the carapace of trees were able to survive our dominion of clay, then surely it is not a farfetched theory that paper must have survived too. I had taken it upon myself to prove this theory correct, a seemingly impossible task that proved just as possible as the beheading and explosion of our planet’s demiurge.
Next I shall take the time to describe the anatomy, thermodynamics, and overall usage of the paper cups and water coolers for clay organisms. I will try to make this brief…
Slab 97
...and the essence of life itself flows from its frustum and into our flesh and souls!
Returning to the topic of Pre-Accretion societies, the resilience of these paper cups and their water coolers they harvested from make it most apparent that, like many products, were once also utilized by beings during the Age of Sages before our own Accretion buried them from us. It would be the most logical explanation behind the idea that willpower was overall greater in that era.
To confirm this, I utilized a rare benefit in my knowledge of the sage’s locations to ask them personally to reflect their memories of the past usage of paper cups toward my research.
Unfortunately, the only sage that would even appear before me again was the Sage of Death, most likely after dying damn near fifty times trying to navigate those catacombs by myself. More unfortunate still, it did not seem to recall anything about how common the usage of paper cups and water coolers were in that era, nor could it even remember how the cooler’s water tasted.
Perhaps that was to be expected. Memory loss is inevitable for immortal cells. Of course hylics of that time would have forgotten such an occurrence by now, but it seems that even psychic brains must shed off the least important of past experiences in order to concentrate most effectively on their designated symbols. Still, my disappointment was palpable. Literally, as when I left an animated statue smelled my dismay and devoured my flesh.
Even outside of the archeologist’s sphere, there have been a small cluster of rumors as to what happened to the paper cups and their coolers. Right away I will rule out the once-prevalent theory that they were left within the mythical one-life city of El Segundo, as that has since been proven false with my findings.
As much as I would forget them, I will have to spend a good portion of this text destroying the many conspiracy theories that have regrettably been gaining traction as to why the paper cups were supposedly hidden from us…
Slab 115
…which doesn’t even make a molecule sense since we don’t have a government anymore, and hopefully not ever again!
Anyhow, I could conclude this essay with a solid recommendation to retrieve and utilize any remaining paper cups your beings may find, but I’m afraid the pitch for such a wondrous discovery is not so simple.
Paper was once an abundant resource, yes, but like all one-life resources it was never destined to last. We hylics have been granted the most shining of biological miracles by even being able to find these remaining cups, let alone utilize them ourselves. Eventually the last paper cup will disintegrate into nothingness after being sipped dry by a being’s lips, and there will be nothing to be done about it.
All except one thing: to preserve its memory. Study it. Learn from it and even replicate its power through the materials we have at our disposal! We may treasure the last remnants of the legendary one-lifes, but tend to forget in our cells' immortality that one day our world may make another drastic change to the point where vegetables, terrestrial juice, and perhaps even clay itself will become as scarce a resource as paper is now.
Until that day, we must tend to the past, and use it to evolve to a greater future!
- Dr. Dedusmuln, Leading Archeologist in the Research of Paper Cups and Arcade Cabinets
#dedusmuln#hylics#hylics headcanons#my writing#hope the pick overlay on the glove isn't too weird looking#I was just trying to replicate dedus's hand since they don't wear black leather gloves (even if the game's animations stay the same)
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2023 Reading Log pt 12
56. Life Between the Tides by Adam Nicholson. This book really, really wants to be High Literary Art. The author writes about tide pools and coastal organisms, but is much more interested in dissecting what these have represented in art, culture and a Jungian sense of shared humanity more than he is in the actual animals, algae and other things he encounters. Throughout the book, he builds three artificial tide pools, each time devising ways to carve rock and set up filters to catch water but exclude some organisms, and I couldn’t help but think, why? Why not find natural tide pools and observe them? Why must you put your stamp on a coastline? His whole thesis seems to be something about the beauty of how the shore is a liminal place, between land and water, where ecosystems and humans alike exist in an unstable equilibrium, and yet he feels the need to attempt to control it, and does not reflect much on the contradiction. I did not care for this book, as either a work of natural history or philosophy.
57. Spirit Beings in European Folklore 1 by Benjamin Adamah. A birthday gift from my girlfriend, @abominationimperatrix. This is one of a four part encyclopedia of European monsters—this volume focuses on Scandinavia and the British Islands. The decision to edit it into multiple volumes was made relatively late in the book’s development, and it shows—there are cross references to entries that do not appear in this book, but are in other volumes. The author is an occultist, and so plays somewhat coy with whether or not he believes in the literal existence of supernatural entities; near as I can tell from this volume, he’s a believer in the idea that they have material reality as thoughtforms created by human imagination. Putting aside that quirk (which is fairly easy to do), this is a pretty good compendium of monsters, especially but not limited to the sorts of things that would be called “fey” and “undead” in RPG terms. I do have the whole set, and am looking forward to reading the rest of them.
58. If It Sounds Like a Quack… by Matthew Hongolz-Hetling. This book is a look into “alternative medicine” grifts and cranks, following the stories of six quacks from their origins to the modern day. This modern day is the COVID era, where even the most reasonable-sounding of them goes off the deep end into conspiracy theories and anti-immigrant hysteria. The author does an excellent job of using alternative medicine as a lens to look at how consensus reality has been damaged in the United States, and there are a surprising amount of connections, both direct and indirect, between these frauds and perhaps the most successful con artist of the modern era, Donald Trump (who the book refers to exclusively as “the game show host”). The book has a light touch and is very funny throughout, which makes the ending, where he discusses how people are committing real murders in the belief that COVID vaccines are turning people into zombies, hit all the harder.
59. Remnants of Ancient Life by Dale E. Greenwalt. This is a book about biomolecules found in fossils, from the famous (like pigments found in dinosaur feathers) to the rather more obscure (using trace elements to pinpoint the affinities of conodonts and Tullimonstrum). The author is an entomologist by trade, and so is a little bit unclear about the appropriate taxonomy for other groups—an editing pass over the chapters about dinosaurs would have been useful. Perhaps the most interesting chapter is on the supposed discovery of dinosaur proteins, such as collagen and even intact blood vessels, which have been almost entirely done by the lab of Mary Schwietzer, and thus are the subject of a lot of debate and skepticism.
60. Strange Bedfellows by Ina Park. This is a book about sexually transmitted infections. It can be divided roughly in half—the first half is chapter long looks at particular topics, like the stigmatization of herpes and the possible health risks of vigorous pubic hair removal. The second half is a historical survey of the history of government investigation of sexual health, including both unethical human experiments such as at Tuskegee and Guatemala, as well as the history of contract tracing in public health offices. The author’s voice comes through strongly—she’s funny and opinionated and not at all ashamed at working in a sex related field. Mary Roach wrote one of the blurbs on the back of the book, and that seems like a pretty apt comparison.
#reading log#medicine#sexually transmitted infections#quackery#alternative medicine#paleontology#folklore#monster book#marine biology
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To bargain for immortality pt.6 END
There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.
All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.
Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.
Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.
"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.
"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.
The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.
Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"
"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.
"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.
As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.
The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.
"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.
Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.
"Are you feeling well? You look pale."
"Yeah yeah-"
"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."
"I did not!" Nicole protested.
"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."
She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.
"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.
That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.
It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.
"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.
Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.
"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.
The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.
"My ladies."
Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.
The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."
Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.
On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.
"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.
Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.
---
Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.
It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.
She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.
The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.
By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.
The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.
"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.
"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.
She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.
"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.
"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.
Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.
It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.
A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.
Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."
Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.
Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.
Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.
Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.
Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.
"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.
With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.
"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.
Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."
She had but not like this. Not like this.
"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.
Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.
Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."
"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.
The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.
Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.
"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.
Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.
With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.
"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.
He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.
The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.
Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.
She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.
---
The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.
She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"
"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.
Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.
She felt downright dreadful.
Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.
A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.
She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.
"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."
Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."
At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.
Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.
"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.
"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.
The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.
"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"
Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.
"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.
---
Date: 20th May 2012
Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu
Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)
Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts
Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.
The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.
---
Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.
"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.
And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.
She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.
A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.
If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.
---
Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu
Cadou Affinity: Favorable
Brain Functions: Normal
Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.
An unfit vessel for Eva.
#unhinged maiden™ my beloved#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden#mother miranda#karl heisenberg#to bargain for immortality#fanfic#lady dimitrescu#tw torture#like big fat tw for this one
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it’s time to talk about Hydaelyn.
i’ve been sat on this theory for a long time - i’m pretty sure i didn’t come up with the original idea myself, but the more i think about it the more it makes sense to me. i’m not sure HOW it’ll come into play in the story, necessarily, but the new year’s eve poem posted last night has me rubbing my chin even more. so:
Hydaelyn exists under Silvertear Lake and i won’t hear no for an answer.
(please note there'll be spoilers for 5.0.)
we have known since 1.0 that there’s Something Under Silvertear. admittedly, in 1.0 it was likely just Midgardsormr, because the times have been a-changing and while the dev team has done a truly admirable job at building on what lore remained from the 1.X days, they couldn’t and didn’t keep everything intact. i do not at any point consider this a downside, just something worth noting!
the Garleans, headed by Gaius van Baelsar (acting under solus-selch’s orders), after the invasion and successful annexing of Ala Mhigo, pushed into Mor Dhona as the next part of their “invade Eorzea” project as a central location that would make continued pushes into the land easy. not only that, but Mor Dhona is noted as being (and has been since 1.X) the center of aetherial connections in Eorzea, if not the whole world, though Eorzea is particularly topped up with aether compared to other landmasses. Cid Garlond in his 1.X iteration suggests that Mor Dhona is where aether returns to rejoin the Lifestream. Quote:
Cid nan Garlond: All aether would - should pass through Silvertear Lake upon returning to the Land, but it now appears that something is bending the energy's course - drawing it away.
in 1.X, Nael van Darnus was originally drawing Dalamud down to fall on this area, where Castrum Novum (now Castrum Centri in ARR and beyond) was built, until adventurers put a stop to that and the transmitter was relocated to Coerthas, where the Rivenroad was ripped from. I’ll accept it as a happy coincidence - the castra was built in this area, it makes sense for plot events to happen there - but it does strike me as interesting, especially where the parallel between the Garlean’s Meteor Project and the original Meteor from FFVII is concerned. Sephiroth wasn’t just calling down a giant slab of asteroid for shiggles; he was doing it specifically to create a wound in the Planet that would require an immense amount of energy to heal that he could siphon off of and become a god. If XIV’s Meteor had hit (and not hatched like an egg), a similar thing might have happened.
And there’s no better place to call a lot of aether to the fore than somewhere entirely rich in it. Almost like there’s a great being in that area dependent on aether that directs the Lifestream through itself to preserve not only itself, but all life on the planet.
The second the Garleans got too close to the lake, Middy burst out with a whole host of Dravanians and the Battle of Silvertear Skies began (and ended with Dravanian victory at great cost). This sequence from 1.X is notable as being one of those things that has to have been changed from ARR onwards considering what we now know about primal summoning (they weren’t just ‘let loose’ into the world, they’ve been actively taught to certain peoples (though why only ‘now’ and not ‘before, too’ is still up in the air)) - not to mention we know that the Echo started manifesting after the battle, too, almost as though something felt like it was in danger and needed thralls (1) to protect itself - but Middy came out to protect something. He’d been known as the great protector of Silvertear Lake for a very long time, since he first appeared to the source. Quote The Rising Chorus, from patch 2.5:
Minfilia: [...] an unlikely ally came to Eorzea's aid that day─Midgardsormr, legendary guardian of Silvertear Falls, burst forth from beneath the waters of the lake and led a host of dragons against the Garlean airships overhead.
Minfilia: Midgardsormr was once worshipped as the guardian deity of Silvertear Falls [...]
Minfilia: One of the ancient myths regarding Silvertear Falls states that when the waters came into existence, so too did the great wyrm. Althyk and Nymeia, Brother Time and Sister Fate, decreed that Midgardsormr ever watch over the source, from which all water─and magic─was said to flow. I wonder... What if this was the covenant of which he spoke, and 'twas not the gods with whom he treated, but Hydaelyn Herself?
minfy and ourselves can only guess as to the nature of the covenant forged between hydaelyn and midgardsormr. Following the Omega questline, we know that Midgardsormr fled the Dragonstar with his seven eggs to get away from Omega, crossing the vast expanse of space at great cost to his own personal strength. We don’t know at what time Midgardsormr appeared to the Source - whether it was before, during, or after the time of the 13th Reflection being turned into the Void as we know it - but it would have been post-Sundering of the Ancient world, considering he was able to make a pact with Hydaelyn at all (2) (not to mention there’s no dragons on the First; if there were dragons everywhere we’d know they were reflections of the First Brood! i’m still angy there’s no Azdaja and Vrtra. fucking PLEASE squenix i’m DYING for info on them).
(1) this is a good a place as any to mention that in 1.X, Minfilia - then known as Ascilia - witnessed the Battle of Silvertear Falls with her father Warburton and her Echo awoke a few years later. interesting to think that the primal that tempered Ascilia in potential desperation would later scour her clean and use her for its own purposes, though i know this wasn’t intentional from the devs at all as a plot-point.
(2) the nature of Hydaelyn and Zodiark’s battle makes me doubt that there was much time between Her summoning and the Sundering of the world
There’s an interview from 2014/15 with Koji Fox where he notes, quote,"There's a presence [at Silvertear]. It wasn't just Midgardsormr there, it was more of a force[...]". There’s definitely something there that isn’t just the dragons. Something big. It’s Hydaelyn!!! It has to be. (highlights in the excerpt mine.)
My interpretation of this event is that Midgardsormr agreed to protect the physical ‘body’ of Hydaelyn in exchange for the safety of his eggs - the First Brood - which is what he’s been doing for potentially upwards of 10,000 years. The battle at Silvertear is pretty explosive otherwise for what’s effectively a non-event. There might not have been dragons in Gyr Abania, or in Ilsabard, or Othard or anywhere else they’ve been pushing into - but there’s never been any indication of the dragons being particularly territorial. The Dravanians shared their space with proto-Ishgardians back in the day, and their issues with the elezen of the Source was due to some choice eye-vorage, not encroaching on lands like the sahagin and kobolds.
As for Hydaelyn’s physical form - well, it’s known that Zodiark has a physical form which was sealed directly into the moon. The true moon, known to us colloquially as Menphina (3) (is there another name for it? i haven’t seen anything). It stands to reason that Hydaelyn has a physical form as well, then, hidden away somewhere safe, because as we known, primals can be defeated and their essences scattered to return back to the Lifesteam.
(3) Hey, it’s worth noting here that Menphina, the Lover (whose divine stone is parked right where Haurchefant’s grave is) is said to be the younger sister of Azeyma, the Warden! and boy, while we’re thinking about the misremembered names of the Convocation coming back as names of gods in modern day, what significance does that have?
The Antitower: In all of creation, what greater mystery could there be than the fate of this very star? To sound the deepest depths, to study the aetherial sea itself─for these purposes and more was the Antitower built. Abandoned by her Sharlayan caretakers following the exodus, it has since been overrun by the magical guardians they left behind. Yet were one blessed with Her gift to brave these dangers and descend to the furthest reaches─to hear, feel, and think at the heart of this world─what would they find?
(emphasis mine.)
in the cutscenes following the Antitower, we meet Hydaelyn in the aetherial sea, and Her mouthpiece, the Word of the Mother. and by using the Antitower, something specifically Sharlayan-built, no less. I’d be very interested to know if you can reach the aetherial sea from only the Forelands, where that dungeon is, or from anywhere. I’m gonna make a stab at anywhere.
It’s been brought to my attention that in the cutscenes post-Antitower, Hydaelyn mentions in the quest The Word of the Mother (patch 3.2), and Ardbert echoes later in Shadows of the First (patch 3.4) that “across ten and three were [we] then divided, reflections of the source, each possessed of a shard”, which seems to imply that not only the people of the world and Zodiark, but also Hydaelyn Herself was sundered and became weaker in so doing. which is FANTASTICALLY interesting, all things considered! maybe She wasn’t just becoming weak (and finding it harder to take mouthpieces and the like) because of the land’s aether being drained by primals (and other sources).
The just-released (as of time of writing) New Year’s Eve poem makes me think that the “last chapter of this story” might relate back to this in some way.
[EN]
Our progeny may never know
Wherefore we look unto the sky
Nor why we dig for truth below;
We bear their scorn or watch them die.
[FR]
With our mouths closed, we pile stone upon stone,
To form a staircase leading to the lands of knowledge,
As well as another pointing to the heavens of existence.
Our children will remember it, no matter how angry they are.
[GR]
Committed to our silent office
We seek wisdom in the deep earth.
Put tomorrow in starry hands,
Sung by children's lamentations.
[JP]
By staying silent and saying naught, we will not accumulate the crystals(?) (4)
To gain knowledge, we climb into the earth,
To survive, we climb to into the heavens.
Even if our progeny resent us, it is all for their sake.
(4) 石 meaning stone rather than ‘crystals’, 水晶 meaning ‘crystal’ (and used in the JP title of the Crystal Exarch).
*** translations from THIS reddit post and THIS tweet for the EU and JP translations of the poem, respectively.
something something 6.0 is looking more likely to be Sharlayan than anywhere else, something something big tower something something learn stuff from within the earth. c’moooon, i wanna go beat some answers out of crystal mom. walk freeeee indeed.
Getting away from the poems again and back to Stuff On The Source, we can take a look at the First, a much more pristine reflection of the Source due to having no Calamities happen to it ever. The Source (not to be confused with the Source), the equivalent of Silvertear, is being presided over by none other than... Bismarck, a member of the fae (and BOY i’d like to know more about whaleboi in this world!!!!), in exactly the same position Midgardsormr is, presumably protecting something of equal importance. Having said that, I don’t know if by splitting the world, Hydaelyn also split Herself.
Having said that, there’s an environmental anomaly in that area. Fly out to Bismarck’s (5) nose, and then dive under the waves. There’s a crystal formation coming out of the ground that can’t be found anywhere else on the First - there is nothing else similar to this formation - that has patches of light emitting from bits of it. A friend of mine noted that the way it seems to be coming through in only this location is almost cancerous in origin - that is to say, uncontained and Wrong in some manner, more complex than we have words or knowledge of. The only way you can interact with these crystals is in the level 78 mining levequest Crystal Meds, which notes that you can yank salt crystals out of that formation... but it seems a little too suspect to leave as ‘just salt’.
(5) Speaking of Bismarck, from that earlier interview with Koji Fox, he also has this to say, which... what else have you been hiding in plain sight... (highlights again mine.)
Or the Crystarium’s just going around seasoning their meals with primal mama, who knows.
Eep, this post got away from me. Anyway, i’m not really sure what to DO with any of this information. as many of my friends know i’ve been harping on about this for years at this point, and i’m not the best at speculation and guessing accurately where stories end up going - but it feels more right than ever to talk about it now after that poem was release.
hells, maybe they’ll give us another tower. say... a tower of bab-il, to take us to the moon? 6.0 FFIV expansion pretty please??
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My thoughts on The 100 7x02
Despite all the negativity surrounding this episode, I adored it. The main reason being I’ve fallen in love with these characters over the years and seeing something good and peaceful happen in their lives is momentous. It was a little slow and consisted mostly of world building and exposition, though I enjoyed the tranquil and reflective pace. Unfortunately, this post will be more or less the same.
Five seconds = Three months
So, Octavia arrives on the new planet that Hope later names Skyring and finds Diyoza three months later, in labour. Dioyoza falls asleep right after giving birth and Octavia feeds baby Hope with her fingers just like Bellamy did with her. I’m a sentimentalist and that was as saccharine as scenes come. Too bad Hope figured out milk doesn’t come from a pinkie.
Octavia tries to figure out how a few seconds dilated into months and Diyoza says she’s not Einstein. Usually that’s a metaphor for genius, but in this case it’s meant literal given Einstein’s theory of special relativity is at play. You can watch an explanatory video here, but in laymen’s terms it means that times slows down for an object, the closer it’s velocity gets to the speed of light.
Aunty O
The place is perfect, no threats, plenty of food, fresh water, but Octavia can’t stay. I’ve heard people say that Octavia’s actions are selfish this episode, but she never intended to stay. It wasn’t her choice, her life or her narrative.
For the last few seasons, the Blakes have had quite a rocky relationship and both had some blame in it. I get that Diyoza saved Octavia’s life, but Bellamy saved it long before that. On the ark, all they had were each other, and Octavia was Bellamy’s entire world, he didn’t have anyone else. When she threw him into the fighting pits, she gave him tips that could lead to victory because, like she said, he is her blood.
At the end of season 5, she risked her life to save him in the gorge. Even though Bellamy knew that killing her, would save their problem of going to war over Eden, he couldn’t do it. They share a bond and a connection that none of us can comprehend because we didn’t grow up in the conditions or proximity they were forced to. Yes, Bellamy abandoned her in Sanctum, but his intentions were pure.
The point is, trying to get back to him may be selfish in a way, but she was had no other choice than to become Aunty O. The surrogate aunt not related by blood. I understand her reasons for trying to get back and make amends with her brother. She didn’t know Diyoza or Hope when she arrived, but her brother was a constant nagging loose wire inside of her.
It’s clear that she learned to love both of them as time wore on. I mean who couldn’t fall in love with that adorable little thing, but Octavia is not someone you can strap down and ask to listen to reason. She’s a wild spirit who lives on the wings of the wind. I think it’s important to remember that Octavia is not the selfless, nurturing leader that Bellamy and Clarke are, she has always been somewhat selfish, obstinate and unstoppable. The ache inside never diminished as her hope dwindled and naivety grew but I’d like to think that at some point she would have chosen to stay. I would have appreciated a scene where she pointedly decided on them.
Octavia and Diyoza together as a team and a family is something I need more of. They play so well for and against each other and that cute little kid is simply the cherry on a magnificent chocolate sundae. Boy, and that letter had a tear running down my cheek. Too bad it led to the disciples discovering them. My heart broke for poor little Hope when they took her parents away. That scene was absolutely devastating. But just before they shatter us, we learn a vital piece of information, the helmets keep their memories intact. So, how did O end up back in Sanctum with amnesia?
I must nit-pick on one thing; how did Echo find the letter a hundred years later without anyone else discovering it?
And one last quick question, did the Clarke, Bellamy and Madi line mean something? Is that a little foreshadowing? Fan service in my opinion but I’d love to hear yours.
Un?Welcome to Skyring
Hope’s personality springs into full throttle as soon as her memories return while Echo only cares about Bellamy’s whereabouts. We learn that the disciples took him to Bardo - the next stop on the anomaly/bridge. The same people who chased them through the woods. Oh, and they have a leader named Anders. It’s not a surprise that Hope traded Octavia for Diyoza, we all suspected that since the end of season 6.
Though the knife that Hope stabbed her with was a locator tag, she didn’t kill her. Does that mean Octavia is alive and well in Bardo? I guess so when looking at the scenes in the trailer where she wakes up in a lab.
Hope contacted Octavia via her biometric signature which is a tool similar to the ‘tagging gun’. Each mind has its own unique code, a thumbprint if you will, that can be accessed through the anomaly stone. This doesn’t quite make sense to me. If Hope contacted O, why did she write ‘Trust Bellamy’? Because why in the world would Bellamy help her after she stabbed his sister?
Another thing that doesn’t make sense is why the prisoner didn’t attack them immediately? Why wait until Echo found out that someone else was there? ��Now, I don’t like to discredit, but Tasya Teles’s acting is a little wooden throughout this episode, which could also be a result of bad directing.
I know a lot of people don’t like Echo, and while watching I thought of Hope as a personification for a lot of voices (not mine) in the fandom. I completely get it, Octavia obviously didn’t like her with valid reasons.
Now the important question, what is it about Bellamy that has otherwise sensible woman willing to die for him. My answer is, he’s willing to die for these women in return. Bellamy has a deep passion and loyalty to the people in his life, one he would gladly lay down for them. You’re in trouble once Bellamy Blake learns that he loves you, because that love runs deep and profound, shooting roots, left, right and centre.
Back to the story, Skyring is a prison where the disciples (highly trained warriors) are sent when they don’t pull their own weight. Also their way out five years from now. But Gabriel discovers Colin Benson was from Eligius III and his mind drive might have their key. I hope Gabriel will be more than just obsessing over the anomaly this season, I mean it’s cute, but it does become a little overbearing after a while.
He notices that a weekend on Bardo relates to five years on Skyring. So, is Bardo closer to the black whole than Skyring? Because my logic tells me differently if it’s the next stop on the bridge. Not sure if the Becca’s clip meant anything more than an explanation for the time dilation, we’ll see.
I enjoyed the sweet little moment of Echo comforting and reassuring Hope. Has Echo ever been that emotional with anyone except Bellamy, maybe? I like that she’s slowly but surely tapping into her own emotions. It can’t be easy for a nameless spy.
Onto the worst part of the episode… Why the hell did Gabriel come running out looking for a pen? Seriously, where the hell would they get a pen and why did he leave the device inside. That was such a ridiculous move. Clearly not a well thought out plot point. They could have done something a lot more realistic resulting in the same scenario - they’re trapped on Skyring for the next five years.
Well, that’s my thoughts for this week, can’t wait for the next episode and especially for Bellamy’s return, not sure when that will be.
#the 100#the 100 7x02#the100#the100 s7#the100 season 7#octavia blake#hope diyoza#charmaine diyoza#echo#gabriel
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Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 49)
Description: Tahira continues to fight her way out of her own head.
Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11
Chapter 49 : A Breath of Water
Grayson
I hold Tahira's hand while the nurse slips the IV needle into her vein, even though she probably can't even feel the prick. She doesn't move at all. Not even a twitch.
The first scan they did of her brain revealed that the blood flow was normal. But there was no explanation as to why she hasn't woken up yet. I don't know whether that surprises me or not. If it really was something on the knife, some kind of poison, is that ever going to show up on a brain scan? Either way, they've decided to do another scan. One that's supposed to measure her brain activity. PET scan, I think. They say they can use it to accurately predict which coma patients are likely to wake up.
I squeeze Tahira's hand, kissing her fingers. She looks so perfect, lying in her hospital bed with her dark hair spread over the pillow, smooth and silky thanks to her mother's careful brushing thirty minutes ago. Except for the tubes and hoses, she looks like she's sleeping.
“My sleeping beauty,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “...I wish you would wake up...”
The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. We gotta leave her alone for awhile so the tracer can go through her system. It's better if she doesn't have any stimulation while that's happening.”
“...You think me being here actually stimulates anything?”
“In the best case scenario, it absolutely does. And since that's what we're hoping for, that's the assumption I'm acting on.”
Tahira
I'm not tired as I climb the path up the mountain, and that still startles me every time I realize it. ...Can I even be startled in this space? I reach what appears to be the top of the mountain, and I am standing on a small circle of rock barely large enough for both my feet that pokes up like an island through an ocean of soft, white clouds. The clouds look soft and fluffy, like piles of cotton balls. I want to dive into them and feel their softness against my skin—even though I know from personal experience that I'll probably just get wet. And possibly fall to my death, since I can't fly in this space. But...maybe I can't die in this space, either. And, I'm here now, standing on a tiny space on top of a mountain. What exactly am I supposed to do now?
Before I can really stop myself, I have taken the step off the edge. I plunge through fluffy, cottony sea foam into a warm ocean. I breathe saltwater and it feels as easy as breathing air. I hear a voice call my name. A sexless voice that comes through the waves and sounds like music. I swim toward it, gliding as easily as I fly through the air in the real world. Something that looks like the sun glimmers overhead, making the water around me shine. Ahead, something waits for me in the water. The rippling waves distort its shape, but the color of it is overwhelmingly red.
I think in the back of my mind, I know what's there even before I get close enough to actually see. Sure enough, as I approach, the thing takes on a human shape. Two legs, two arms, and a head—all concealed within a red spacesuit. ...I've never met the Endless before. But I know who she is.
“...Endless. Are you here to show me how I can wake up and help Alodia? Help...a version of you?”
“I am here to help. But I warn you that I cannot help the way you want me to. I am forever bound by the laws that govern the physical flow of time. If I break them, I will do more harm than good.”
“I'm in no position to turn down help.”
“Then follow me.”
Rochelle
“What exactly are you trying to tell me, doctor?”
They've called in a neurologist to assess Tahira. She's had at least two scans to determine why she isn't waking up. So far, though, the man seems to have taken a lot of words to say not very much at all.
“What I am trying to tell you, Ms. Rogers, is that there is no reason to despair. Your daughter's brain is active. Very active. In all the right ways. Coma patients with similar levels of brain activity recover consciousness within a year more than eighty percent of the time.”
I fold my arms. “...Are you saying that my daughter is in a coma?”
The doctor hesitates. “She does exhibit many symptoms consistent with a coma diagnosis. However, there are no obvious organic causes. And...” He leans over Tahira and lifts her eyelid slowly to shine his light pen at her pupil. “Her light reflexes are normal. When I lift her eyelid, she resists. And when I release it, her eye closes completely and quickly.”
“So...what does that mean?”
“My assessment is that it is most likely a psychogenic coma. That is, a temporary period of disassociation, possibly caused by psychological trauma related to the attack.”
“...'Temporary'...”
“Yes. Most of the time patients wake up fairly promptly after general anesthesia is stopped. Often when they fail to wake up, it's due to residual effects from the drugs. Sometimes, it's neurological or metabolic. And sometimes, it's psychological. Tahira is neurologically intact, and her bloodwork is all clear.”
“So...what do we do?”
“We wait. Keep assessing her regularly, wait for a change. Right now, there is little else we can do.”
Jake
“Lundgren wasn't where we left him. The prevailing theory is that one of his goons found him and got it out, but there's not much of a trail if that's the case. It's...not looking like Alodia and Diego are on the island, either. They've got the coast guard circling, though, in case anything tries to land there. The Vaanti are still lying low for the most part, but Seraxa has a few warriors combing the jungle. I don't know if they can hide themselves like they used to when Vaanu's crystals were still part of the island, but Seraxa seems to think it's an acceptable risk.”
I can't look at Sean as he talks. I stare out the window of my hospital room. The view overlooks the hospital grounds, with the Santo Domingo skyline on the horizon. He seems to be waiting for an answer, but when I don't give him one after a moment or two, he goes on.
“Zahra and Iris have been analyzing the recording from that AI. Iris was able to confirm that the voice print was Alodia's. But most of it was spliced together from recorded voice samples. Like...the time lady that you used to be able to call.”
“'Most of it'...”
“...Huh?”
I keep my eyes on a not-particularly-interesting office building in the distance. “You said 'most of it' was spliced. ...I have a guess where it wasn't.”
Sean hesitates just long enough to confirm that I'm right even before he says, “...Yeah.”
“So where did that part come from?”
“Zahra says she doesn't know that yet. The parts where...Galatea...broke character...those were whole samples, not splices. Iris can figure out that much. But where and when they were recorded? That's gonna take longer to figure out.”
Now I turn to look at him. “What kinda time do you think we have, Sean? She could give birth any day. If Rourke gets his hands on our kid...”
“I know, buddy. I know.”
“...I wanna be there. I wanna be there when my daughter is born.”
He doesn't say anything. What the hell can he say to that? Everyone I know is gonna do everything in their power to get my wife back to me ASAP. Doesn't mean I can rest easy. Not until she's back in my arms.
“...Do you know when you're getting out of here?”
“A day or two. They want to keep me for observation awhile. ...Then I guess I oughta go back to California. ...Or stay here and look after Mike. Don't wanna leave him alone here. ...Don't suppose you two are continuing the honeymoon where you left off.”
“With Alodia and Diego still missing? Of course not. Michelle wants to go back to work early.”
I snort, a rueful, mirthless laugh. “Tell her it's outta the question. She just went through a kidnapping for fuck's sake.”
“You're suggesting I try to tell Michelle what to do?”
“Okay, yeah. I see how that's a bad idea.”
“...She needs to feel useful. And...truthfully right now, it may be that the best way she can help us get Alodia and Diego back is by being at work.”
I feel the frown settle onto my mouth and forehead as I stare at him. “...You don't just say a thing like that without having something to back it up.”
“Tahira was attacked. About the same time as all of us were abducted. She had emergency surgery, but she hasn't woken up yet. ...Before she went under, she managed to get across that the one who attacked her was a Vaanti.”
Caleb
It's probably stupid as hell for me to keep coming back to the compound where Tahira and I were once prisoners. The cops are probably still looking for me, and the compound being the site of a stabbing, they probably aren't far off. Though, truth be told, I'm not sure if they've actually managed to figure out where she was actually stabbed.
Thing is, I find myself wanting answers. I want to know who decided to stick a maybe-poisoned knife in Tahira. I got a nagging feeling whoever it was knows her identity. In the dark, with a flame dancing on my fingertips to light my way, I follow the spotty trail of dried blood from inside the compound to the alley where the initial splatter seems to be and stare at the stain on the filthy concrete.
Avanti...who the hell is Avanti? Sounds like some pop diva wannabe. I'd say a pop diva wasn't capable of leaving this kind of mess in an alley, but I'm old enough to remember Haley Rose.
“You're not going to be able to hide forever.” The taunting purr is unmistakably Gigi. I grit my teeth, but I don't turn to face her right away. “You have to realize that sooner or later, the cops are going to find you.”
Don't ask me why this is the straw that breaks the camel's back. But whatever the reason, I can't take it anymore. I whip around and lunge at Gigi, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall, a fireball in my free hand poised threateningly over her. The dancing orange light reflects genuine fear in her eyes as she grasps my wrist in both hands. At the moment, I'm too pissed to enjoy it.
“I've had e-fucking-nough of your bullshit, Gi,” I snarl. “You can threaten me with your child army or the cops all you fucking want, because right now, all your underworld power and influence, all your loyal followers all mean jackshit compared to my hand on your throat and this fireball over your head, so start fucking talking, bitch!”
Her eyes flick from my face to the flames licking my hand and back again. I feel her squirm, but I've got her pushed high enough that her toes barely touch the concrete.
“What—should I talk—about?” she finally gasps. I pull back just enough to give her a little more air.
“What do you know about what happened here?!”
She smirks, even as I feel her hands trembling on my wrist. “I know Dragonness can bleed.”
So she does know Tahira's identity. I tighten my grip again, bringing the flames a little closer to her skin. They lick upward enough that I am not worried about causing any damage I don't intend, but I see the sweat blooming on her forehead. I press my face in closer.
“...Who's Avanti?”
Her eyes widen. “...What?”
“Avanti. Is she one of yours? Someone new?”
“...Where...did you...hear that?”
“Tahira said it was Avanti who stabbed her! Who is that?!”
“...So. …The plot...thickens...”
I shake her, hard enough that she lets out a strangled yelp. “I told you to talk, bitch!”
“Avanti isn't a name!” she shrieks breathlessly, struggling against my grip. “It's...not...coincidence!”
“What's not?!”
“Any of it! Same day Dragonness is attacked, Alodia Chandler is abducted, and Silas Prescott escapes!”
“Yeah, that doesn't seem like coincidence. So what do you know about it?”
“Barely more than you, I would wager,” she croaks against another increase in pressure from my hand. “...But I know that Avanti is not a name. It's a thing. A creature. From La Huerta.”
“...What kind of creature?”
I feel a hand come down on my shoulder, gently but firmly. I spare a glance, and the hand on my shoulder shines golden brown in the light from my flame.
“That's enough, Caleb,” Talos murmurs. “Let her go.”
“Fuck that! Not until she tells me what she knows!”
“There's nothing she could tell you right now that I couldn't also tell you.”
I sneer, tightening my grip. “What about her plot to steal the Prism Crystal?”
“It clearly hasn't been set in motion yet, since the Prism Crystal is secure. And trying to get the plan out of her is likely going to prove an exercise in futility. There are more important things to worry about at the moment.”
I want to argue, how the fuck is the Prism Crystal not important? ...But it's not. Not when compared to finding Tahira's attacker. I slowly release Gigi and let the flame on my hand go out. Gigi staggers back from me, coughing and rubbing her throat. I can see I've left marks. She's not gonna forgive me for that. But right at this moment, she's looking at me with genuine fear and I can finally feel a twinge of satisfaction for it. Of course, she does her best to disguise it as quick as she can.
“Looks like I've got my own knight in shining armor,” she sneers, her voice hoarse. “Too bad he appears to be running with a traitor.”
“You should be the one running, Gi,” I snarl. “Before I change my mind about letting you go.” As I summon flames to my palms for emphasis, her eyes widen. She closes her mouth and slinks into the shadows without another word. I let the flames die and lower my hands, turning to glare at Talos. He sighs.
“Don't give me that look. Interrogating her would have cost us time we don't have.”
“You can't know that she isn't involved!” I growl.
“Of course she's involved. Even if it's indirectly. She was on La Huerta at the same time as Alodia. But look me in the eye and tell me that you think she would give up any information in a timely manner?”
“I could have burned it out of her,” I mutter.
“Torture is unreliable,” he replies simply. “...The Prism Crystal is secure. You can take my word on that.”
“Why should I?” I'm just being stubborn at this point. I don't know why the hell Talos would lie about that.
“...Because if it's lost, I lose my source of liquid prism. And liquid prism is what's going to save me if you ever decide to stick a flaming sword through my gut again.”
“...Fine. Fair point. ...So what now, huh? How do we find this Avanti thing?”
“First of all, it's not Avanti. It's a...Vaanti. Two words. ...Let's go somewhere private, Caleb. I think it's time to explain.”
Jake
Rebecca and my folks show up in the small hours of the morning. They have Varyyn with them, his hologram disguise in place. They try to sneak into my hospital room to avoid disturbing me, but it's not like I can sleep anyway. Varyyn hangs back while my parents tearfully embrace me, but I watch him through the space between their heads, and I can see his tepid expression.
“Hey, Varyyn,” I murmur after my parents and sister have given me a moment to breathe. “...How are you holding up?”
Varyyn twitches slightly, and I see a guilty flush creep into his cheeks. “...I am glad to see you are safe, Jake...” He trails off, looking away.
“...But I ain't your spouse, am I.” I offer him a sympathetic smile. “...I ain't mine, either.”
His mouth twists miserably, his eyes shimmering. “...They are together,” he whispers. “They must be together.”
“God, I fucking hope so...” I look desperately at my sister. “Tell me the cops got something, Bex. Anything...”
“There is something. ...One of Alodia's students came forward. Said she had been waiting to be picked up after class and Alodia was waiting with her to go to lunch with a friend. ...She gave a description of the woman Alodia left with. Said Alodia called her 'Jeanine,' and that she didn't seem happy to see her.”
I try not to show disappointment. Three people in this room were already aware of this information, but as far as my folks know, this should be a new development. I hope I can blame my lukewarm reaction on the concussion. The odds are probably better if I can manage to say something to convince them I didn't know the kidnapper's identity already.
“...The only Jeanine I can think of that we know is someone I used to serve with. She was there on La Huerta, and she was definitely hostile to Alodia, but...” What did we all agree happened to her? What did Mike and I say at Lundgren's trial all those years ago. “...We thought she was dead.”
“Varyyn told them that the name was familiar,” Rebecca says, giving me a meaningful look behind our parents' backs. “That you had mentioned her as someone from your Navy days you had fallen out with. But since he wasn't there on La Huerta, he doesn't know the whole story.”
Oh, is that the story we're going with? Seems fucking weird to think of Varyyn being from anywhere but La Huerta, but I guess now that he has a fake ID and he can mingle in the real world, he's got to have another backstory.
“...There is one other thing,” Rebecca continues. “Whoever took Diego and Alodia, they were prepared. For the most part, they managed to stay off the security cameras both at the college and the dance school. ...But not entirely.”
That does make me snap to attention. Well, as much as I can in a hospital bed. “So there's footage?”
“There's footage of what the police believe is the ambulance they drove. Enough frames between the two sets of security footage to get a license plate. The vehicle hasn't been found yet, but...”
“...But it's something.”
It's enough to keep hope alive, even if it feels like fear is suffocating it. Fear can't really smother hope, though. As long as I am afraid, I still have hope. It's when fear starts to turn to despair that I'll have really lost hope. When I start grieving Alodia and Diego instead of being afraid that I will have to grieve them in the future.
“...When you're discharged,” my mother speaks up, covering my hand with hers, “would you like us to take you back to California? Or would you rather come stay with us until there's more information?”
I shake my head. “...The moment there's a real credible lead, I'll be wherever my wife most needs me to be. ...But for now, I can't leave Mike. Not until I know he's okay.”
“It's up to you, of course. We can get a hotel room for awhile. But they did tell us that his family has been informed.”
I hum noncommittally. Of course I trust Mike's family to look after him when they get here. But I still don't want to leave without word of Alodia. ...How can I think about going anywhere until I know where she is? Without her, I'm adrift. I'm spinning my wheels in a blizzard, and I can't even see the road ahead, even if I could get myself unstuck.
Tahira
“So...are you actually the Endless? Or are you just a manifestation of...some aspect of me that's taken on the form of the Endless?”
The red-clad old woman does not look back at me as we slog together through what has become a mucky swamp, thick with vines, water plants, and algae.
“A little bit of both. Vaanu is communicating with you mentally. I am an alternate version of Alodia, who is essentially a manifestation of some aspect of Vaanu. Unlike the Alodia you know, however, I never lived as a human in this world. I am the Alodia who was born of Vaanu's energy and my Catalysts' needs. But I never gave myself back to Vaanu, so I never merged the timelines, and thus I was never reborn on earth as the child of human parents. I am the Alodia who never lived in California. Who never attended Hartfeld. ...I am the Alodia who rejected Vaanu, and yet I am now the Alodia who is joined with him.”
“...That was...a long-winded answer. But surprisingly straightforward. That's not to say that I totally understand, but I was expecting you to be more...cryptic.”
“Unfortunately, this straightforwardness cannot last. ...I do not know where Alodia is, and neither does Vaanu. All we have is scattered knowledge to impart to you that may or may not help you find her. In fact, my main purpose here is to help you purge the poison from your body.”
“What kind of poison is it?”
“An ancient kind. Something toxic to those from the Crystal Dimension.” She pauses, turning toward me. “Have you ever been baptized, Tahira?”
“Baptized? No. My mom was never religious, and I never got into it either. ...I did see a friend of mine get baptized once...”
We were teenagers, I remember, and she invited most of the girls in our class, and I went mostly because it meant something to someone I considered a friend. Her church had a baptismal pool, and she and the other baptismal candidates waded in one by one to speak their vows, dressed in loose white robes. Then their pastor covered their face with a towel, took them in his arms, and rocked them back into the water while speaking the ritual words before drawing them up again. The ceremony meant nothing to me, but it was interesting to watch. Before I can ask the Endless why she wanted to know, I get my answer when she takes me in her arms and gets my legs out from under me to immerse me in the water around us. But I don't have the benefit of a cloth over my face, and the Endless doesn't seem to be drawing me up again. I try to find my footing, to get my head above the water, but she isn't letting me. Or something else isn't letting me. Either way, I start to panic. But then I remember my experience earlier, and I slowly still. Cautiously, I take a breath. Water flows smoothly into my lungs, and out again, easy as air.
“Good,” the Endless says soothingly. “Just breathe. Relax. Listen. Watch.”
I try to do as I'm told. In one of my middle school art classes, we made an optical illusion toy out of a circle of cardboard and two pieces of string. On one side of the cardboard was a picture of a bird, and on the other was a birdcage. The strings attached to opposite edges of the cardboard circle, and when you wound up the string and spun the toy, the images flipped so quickly that the bird seemed to appear inside the cage. Watching the images flashing in front of me on the surface of the water feels like watching that little bird hop into the cage. Or maybe like thumbing clumsily through a flip book where some of the pages are out of order.
I see the Endless with her helmet down, flames dancing above the skeletal claw that is her bionic right hand. I see Caleb superimposed over her, and they both close their right fists to extinguish the flames. I see Minuet holding out her hand to extend a slow-motion field over an unseen opponent. Then she morphs into Alodia, wearing a haunted expression as she holds out her hand and the wind that was stirring her yellow hair stills. I see a massive tree that I think must be Elyys'tel pulsing with light. And then the light fades and the tree withers as the sky turns gray, but lights are flashing in wild neon colors behind it. The images start coming faster. I can't keep track of them. But some do get through. Vaanti. Blue-skinned males and verdant females, dressed in masks and leafy garments, with tattoos decorating their powerful, glistening bodies. Then they're gone. Replaced by a steampunk-looking tribe who hunker around a fire in a post-apocalyptic desert, their pointed teeth tearing into the raw flesh of some unfortunate animal, blood sluicing down their chins.
...Anachronists...those are Anachronists! I mean, Alodia never told me they had fangs and ate raw animals, but...the steampunk outfits give them away. I open my mouth to say as much to the Endless. But now there's a problem.
...Suddenly, I can't breathe.
#Jake McKenzie#sean gayle#Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto#raj bhandarkar#aleister rourke#Craig Hsiao#playchoices#choices stories you play#pixelberry choices#Endless Summer#hero#michelle nguyen#quinn kelly#estela montoya#zahra namazi#grace hall#dax darcisse#poppy patel#kenji katsaros#grayson prescott
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Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 10--Thinning of the Veil
Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.
Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.
Chapter summary: Ienzo tries to plan next steps concerning Saïx... as well as Demyx.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
He woke slowly.
His legs ached, and he was desperate to pee. He found himself glad he'd decided to sober himself; otherwise, he knew he'd have a hideous hangover. He was horridly dehydrated. He went to the bathroom, washed his face. He had awful bedhead. His first night with his supposed soulmate hadn't exactly been romantic.
He knew he had to deal with the fact of Saïx--and Kairi?--at some point. He crossed over to the kitchen, still littered with alcohol and mixer bottles. He drank a few glasses of water. Lea was snoring on the couch. Ienzo saw Demyx, a pale shade of green, cross over to the bathroom, and heard him retch. Ienzo sighed. At least he could do this much. He got him a glass of water and knocked at the door. "Occupied," he said wearily.
"I've got something for you. Let me in."
"You don't need to see this."
"I can help."
After a moment, Ienzo heard the toilet flush, and the door cracked open. Demyx sat on the floor, holding his head with one hand.
"I can fix your hangover," he added more quietly. "You'll just get sick again, is all."
"You're not bullshitting me?"
He shook his head. "Give me your hand."
Demyx did; his was clammy. Ienzo gently pulled the hangover from him with his magic. He vomited once more, then looked up in confusion. "Holy fuck," he said.
"Better?"
"...Much. God, Ienzo, if you sold that you'd make a fortune." He shut the toilet lid and flushed.
"Were I not a fugitive, I would." He smiled a little.
"...Thanks." Demyx stood. "Hey… that's my shirt."
"Do you mind? I felt rather sweaty."
"No. It… it's nice." He sighed. "Kinda wish the first night you stayed over was better."
"...Well. We can fix that."
He nodded once, a blush coloring his face. "Let me get cleaned up. We should go out for breakfast."
Ienzo did. He felt loath to put his dirty clothes back on, but he had to. Once they were ready, they set out into the perpetual twilight. Demyx squeezed his hand. “So I have to ask,” he said in a low voice. “What do you remember from last night?”
Demyx frowned. “Well… honestly? It’s all kind of… hazy.”
“I’m not surprised.” Ienzo sighed. “I believe… I saw an old adversary of mine.”
He stopped in his tracks. “You’re sure you weren’t just trashed?”
“Relatively sure, yes. He’s hard to miss.” He described Saïx briefly.
Demyx shook his head. “What if it was just someone with blue hair? Isn’t my magic… shielding yours, or whatever? Isn’t that the point?”
“Doesn’t stop him from tracking the old-fashioned way.”
Demyx took both of his hands and squeezed them. “There’s no point torturing yourself unless you know for sure.”
He had a point. Ienzo still intended on telling Aeleus when he got home.
They grabbed breakfast in a small cafe near Demyx’s apartment. Like Riku had, Ienzo cast a small muffling spell. “Where did you meet Sora and Kairi?”
Demyx blinked. “They’re Islanders too. Were always attached to Riku at the hip. I dunno.”
“Kairi claims she knows me.”
“Do you think you have?”
“I have these strange… partial memories, which may just be corroboration,” he said. “But if they’re magic… Do you know what’s special about them?”
“Not… really. Honestly, Ienzo, we don’t talk all magic, all the time.” A wry laugh.
Oh to have that kind of life. “I suppose that is fair.”
Demyx reached over the small table to take his hand. “Why don’t we just enjoy our date?”
Ienzo sighed. “Yes. You are right.”
---
When Ienzo got home, he braced himself for the third degree; but to his shock, the house was empty. The wards were still intact, and there was no sign of a break in. Was Even simply following his advice?
There was a note on the fridge. No need to worry. Back soon. -E
Ienzo showered, shedding the final remnants of last night. He felt considerably less safe without Demyx. He finished the last remaining bits of his coursework and started his own personal study, one ear at the door, his dagger nearby. Has he always been this paranoid, and simply never noticed?
After a while, he heard the front door open, and braced for attack before he sensed Even. He headed down and saw him carrying in groceries. “So you made it back, then,” he said dryly.
“I would’ve come home--but--well.” He took a breath and explained.
Even’s eyes bulged, finally giving Ienzo the reaction he was looking for. He almost dropped his bags. “You’re sure?”
“Nearly positive.”
He put his head in his hands. “We haven’t had any confirmed sightings, but I’ll be sure to tell Aeleus--in the meantime, you should probably stay here. Else…” He shuddered. “We could always call the boy if we need him.”
“You just sound so pleased.”
“I know that’s his purpose, but at the same time…” He looked back towards Ienzo.
“Something you don’t have control over.” Ienzo chuckled a little. “Right. Though there is one more thing I had questions about.”
Even began to unload the groceries. “And that is?”
“Do you know of any Islander named Kairi?”
Even turned. “...You’ve no memory?”
“I truly don’t.”
“I’m not surprised… it was shortly after the death of your dear parents, so your memory may be compromised, as it were.” He put a hand to his brow. “She was their princess. Are you truly forgetting all of the history I taught you? Why even bother?”
Ienzo rolled his eyes.
“We’d gone there to introduce Ansem as the new king. You were fast friends, if I recall correctly.”
“...Were we…” He muttered. “Are her parents still alive?”
“They fled shortly before the fall. Critical resistance contacts. They hoped to… rebuild, and repatriate.” A sigh. “Didn’t we all.”
Ienzo made a note to himself to look into their line. “Seems magic is much less rare than I was led to believe. We flock together like birds, don’t we?”
“Yes, yes,” Even said absently.
“Might be worth getting to know her then… again.” Ienzo picked up one of the apples that had just been bought.
“Did you enjoy your time gallivanting about?”
“Before I saw him… I did,” Ienzo admitted. “Strange dichotomy, between this “normal” life and everything else. I… you don’t think he knows about me?”
“I… cannot be sure,” Even said. “But we must be vigilant.”
“Are we ever not?” Ienzo looked at his reflection in the wax of the apple. “Were you able to find the goat? I have a lovely recipe.”
---
Ienzo could not stop thinking about Saїx. As he moved through the days… past midterms, past dates with Demyx… he still kept looking out for that shaggy head of blue hair. But Ienzo did not see or sense him again, even past the full moon. How could he possibly relax?
Demyx helped. It was lighthearted, even effortless , to be with him, and knowing his magic was at least partially blocked gave him a modicum of comfort he’d never quite had. They did spend quite a lot of time in his room whenever they could be alone, simply cuddling or kissing or something more.
Ienzo started taking birth control pills, acquired with ease through the student health center. His transition had been magical, not medical, and fertility spells for or against children were frightfully complicated. He knew that final step would probably come soon, and he figured best to be cautious.
How odd.
Ienzo knew he did love him, involuntarily, but still deeply. The more they were together, the more he seemed to notice about him, especially if they spent time with Demyx’s friends; he was unconsciously charming, but on the other hand the real appeal was there. He was sharp, observant, though he often feigned the opposite. They would talk for hours about every little passing thought in their minds; Demyx humored his ramblings about this or that book he’d read, or the theories he had about his own magic. Similarly, hearing Demyx talk so technically about his own music served as a turn-on.
“It’s been easier, since we met,” Demyx admitted, strumming his sitar lightly. “To… make things. I feel like I’ve been missing something, and that hole is just… gone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I know it’s just because… I’m supposed to want to be around you. But at the same time… it’s such a relief.”
“I agree,” Ienzo said quietly. “I feel I can’t let my guard down around anyone else.”
Demyx set his sitar aside and lay back. The string lights around the room made everything rosier. “So this resistance… what happens?”
“The next meeting is apparently soon,” Ienzo admitted, “Around Samhain… the thinning of the veils between worlds.” He looked at his palms; he could feel the magic gradually increasing the closer they got. “The boost in power makes the vulnerability we get by joining worth it. ...So I’ve heard. The longer I live a “normal” life, the less I feel I know.” He sighed. “But at least something can be done. I think. I hope.” He exhaled. The air was getting cooler, the more it edged into fall. He lay back with Demyx and felt him draw his arms around him. “Sometimes I feel like there’s no real future for us. All the while darkness encroaches and we… wait.”
Demyx pressed a kiss against his brow. “I know. Believe me. But… I believe in us. In you.”
“How I wish I could’ve just met you on the street.”
“Well. The alternative other than this is… never meeting at all, and I can’t handle that, either.” He chuckled a little. “I’m just… glad it was you.”
“...I’m glad too.” He leaned in to kiss him. Demyx pulled a hand through his hair and brought him closer; Ienzo rolled his hips so he was lying partially on him. Demyx’s hand slid down his back, over the curve of his ass, bringing with it goosebumps and making him shudder. Ienzo had gotten used to this all too quickly. He let his own hand trace the planes of Demyx’s chest, and heard him gasp softly. Ienzo worked off his shirt and kept touching him, loving the way it made him feel grounded. Warmth rushed to his face.
Demyx undid the buttons of Ienzo’s shirt, sliding it off, and pressed his lips against his throat, nipping softly. Ienzo felt a hand ease between his legs and reached to undo the buttons of his slacks. Still awkward, to undress, but Demyx helped him, kissing his chest, his stomach, and down farther, making him moan. He was eased back down onto the bed. Demyx took off his own pants and returned to him, drawing Ienzo’s mouth back to his.
Demyx drew his hand against Ienzo’s thigh, the soft and sensitive skin there, before so tentatively stroking at his clit. Ienzo shivered. At least it was easier to touch Demyx too now, so he did, taking his dick into his hand and working at the tip. Demyx made a small noise. Ienzo loved the way his breath changed. It should not be this easy to be so vulnerable in front of someone else.
Demyx moved a little quicker, rolling it against his fingertips, and slid one of his fingers inside of Ienzo. This used to be enough; and Ienzo knew he could get off if this continued. But he wondered… “Hey,” he said softly. “Do you think--?”
Demyx cocked his head. “What?”
“I want to… try going farther.”
He gasped. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Um… I… yeah, no, totally.” He laughed a little. “Let me get a condom.” Ienzo watched him cross over to his dresser and open a drawer.
This was so… odd. Ienzo could feel the blush in his own face.
“If I’d known, I would’ve… I don’t know, bought wine, or something.” Demyx chuckled again; Ienzo realized he was nervous.
“No need to be anxious,” he said softly, reaching for his hand.
“I can’t help it.” Demyx bit his lip. He knelt down next to Ienzo, stroking the uneven edges of the package. “Listen… just tell me, if…”
“I know.” Ienzo took Demyx’s dick back into his hand, helping him get hard again. Still, his hands were shaking when he helped him put the condom on.
“I’m surprised you don’t have magical birth control or something.” Demyx eased back on top of him, teased his thighs open.
“It is all very complicated, and requires ingredients that aren’t exactly available in a store.” His heart was racing.
Demyx’s flush worsened; Ienzo touched his cheek. He propped himself up with an elbow. Ienzo felt a finger slide into him, then another, an unexpected prickle of pain giving him pause for a moment, but the way Demyx kissed him helped warm it away. Ienzo wrapped a leg around his hips, to help give him a better angle, and a moment later the tip of it pressed against his opening. “You’re okay?” Demyx asked.
“I think so.”
Demyx eased into him a little more; Ienzo couldn’t help the flinch. It wasn’t agonizing , but it wasn’t comfortable, either. “You sure?”
He’d just have to bear it for a moment. “Yes.”
More pressure, and a bit more tense pain. “It looks like that hurts.”
“It doesn’t.” Ienzo felt his hips against him; that must’ve been all of it. Still, the feel of it was not encouraging; how did people fake orgasms? He could barely keep the grimace off his face. “I’m… fine.”
Demyx exhaled. “Why don’t we do something that feels better for you?”
“How else do I get… used to things?” he asked.
“Lube would probably help.” Demyx pulled out of him. “I can get some for next time, okay?” His expression had become somewhat unreadable; Ienzo felt betrayed by his own body, moreso than usual.
“I’m sorry.”
Demyx kissed him once. “It’s not your fault. Believe me, the first time someone went inside me was a real shitshow.” He offered a tentative smile. He threw away the condom.
Ienzo was shaken into honesty. “I just thought it would be easier,” he mumbled. “After all… it’s all well and good when you touch me, but…”
“We can try again,” Demyx said.
“Aren’t you disappointed?”
Ienzo could see he was deciding whether or not to lie. “Well--a little,” he admitted. “I mean, I thought--”
“It would be the best sex of your life?”
He lay down next to him. “I wouldn’t say best , but--”
“At least you’d finish.” Ienzo bit his lip; his humiliation felt complete, and while he wasn’t aching , exactly, things did feel odd between his legs.
“Hey,” Demyx said softly. “It’s not your fault. I could’ve… fingered you more, or…”
“Lube. As you said.” He tried to smile.
“Do you want me to… touch you, or?”
Ienzo shook his head. “Feels like the moment has passed, no?”
A sigh. “Yeah. Let’s just… cuddle a while.”
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So, I don’t really have any finished fics to link for the thing Raven tagged me in a while ago... but how about a snippet from one of my original works that’s in progress? It’s from one of my upcoming books, Shipwrecked on Apophyia.
~~~
“What were you really thinking about, staring so intensely into nothing?” The friendly easy-going tone he had made him popular on the cruise, several people flocking to him easily. Junia assumed he was the type who made a lot of friends wherever he went.
Well, he’d asked, so don’t blame her for being honest.
“I was thinking about the ruins we saw today on our dive. I just find it odd that despite their depth, they show signs of the damage occurring in the water. In fact, almost all of the ruins we’ve visited have been like that. How would people or the elements have had access to it to destroy it while under the water? They didn’t have the kind of modern technology we have today. Did something collide with it underwater?...”
“...And yet the impact pattern suggests a number of close range blows rather than a single large one.” She mused, pinching a strand of hair between her fingers in thought. “Not to mention we can’t figure what made those marks. Granted these ruins are ancient, so the evidence left on the surface of the impacts must have eroded into the water by now, but if it was a hard material like stone or some kind of metal, it would have left traces somewhere nearby. A large enough chunk to analyze.”
“But there’s nothing. As if an invisible force was the one to collide with it. But how could that be possible. I also noticed the central impact indentations were about the size of an average human hand…”
Junia trailed off as she noticed Dr. Danforth staring at her. Irritation sparked in her chest. And this was exactly why people should just leave her alone if they didn’t want to listen.
“Yeah, I know it’s a long shot, all crazy theories and no evidence. Not really fair to blame me when you asked though.” She grumbled.
Dr. Danforth raised an eyebrow. “I never told you to stop, did I?”
“Your face was dropping hints.”
The doctor laughed. “No, no, you misunderstand me. I was just thinking that I wish I had more students that questioned like you do. Science is asking questions. Not taking things at face value like we are all so tempted to do. Even I struggle with that. I think you have a knack for it, Miss Klein.”
“Oh.” Junia dropped her gaze, unhappy at her inability to gauge a situation correctly, once again. “Sorry.”
“Hmm… I actually noticed the peculiar way in which the damage was inflicted as well. I’d love to hear more of your theories, but all that swimming gets a man hungry, and I know from experience I’m more than capable of talking all through dinner.” Stepping back from the railing, Dr. Danforth made a beckoning gesture.
“Hopefully you’ll join me in the dining room then, so we can continue our discussion?”
Junia bit her lip. She was hungry, but she preferred to wait until almost everyone had already ate and left to go get hers. Hence why she was out here in the first place. What’s more, she was willing to bet that any table with Dr. Danforth at it would soon be way too over-populated for her liking.
“We can sit at one of the booths.” He said encouragingly, reading her expression. “More comfortable anyways.”
Junia couldn’t think of any other reason to refuse.
“...Alright.” She said finally, breaking away from the railing and trailing after him.
—-
Play with fire and you will get burned.
Such a simple concept and she was born with such a capable brain. Yet, here Junia was, in a situation she knew was a risk and she’d took it anyway. Junia and Dr. Danforth had been able to exchange theories in their red-cushioned booth seats for exactly five minutes before dinner was ruined.
Miserably shoveling a bite of vegetable stir fry into her mouth, Junia glared down at the reflection of the intruders on the rim of her bowl. Across from her sat Dr. Danforth, and beside him, the big trendy glasses and dark red lipstick wearing, probably not old enough to be drinking that bright yellow pina colada “assistant” the Doctor had brought along, Erica Lockheart.
The other unwelcome addition sat next to her, caging her into this prison of her own terrible judgement, Dr. Juliano Manuel, renowned across the field for his published ground-breaking research papers on pre-columbian civilization, and one of Dr. Danforth’s old friends apparently. They were happily drinking Corona and swapping stories as if she wasn’t there.
Dr. Manuel was also much younger than Dr. Danforth, in his early twenties, and acted as such, insisting on buying her a drink and asking her all sorts of questions she didn’t want to answer.
Between Ms. Lockheart’s shameless attempts to catch Dr. Danforth’s attention with the cleavage displayed by her low-necked cocktail dress and Dr. Manuel’s incessant flirting and attempt to put the moves on her, Junia was going to jump overboard of her own volition and swim her own way back hundreds of miles to the nearest shore rather than spend another minute enduring this torture.
Brushing her perfectly manicured hand over Dr. Danforth’s shirt, Ms. Lockheart teasingly rubbed the crisp white lapel and whispered something Junia couldn’t hear, but could definitely guess.
With an exasperated exhale, Junia abruptly stood, snatching her things off the booth.
“Excuse me.” She demanded, looking pointedly at Dr. Manuel.
“Where are you going, you’ve barely touched your drink.” He protested with a placating pat on her arm as he gestured to the light green mojito he’d forced on her.
Junia was nearing the end of her patience.
“Move, before I make you move.”
With a surprised expression of shock, Dr. Manuel scooted off the seat.
Junia did not waste any time, stalking off as fast as her feet could take her. She didn’t even glance back at Dr. Danforth.
“Jeez, rude much?” She heard Ms. Lockheart say, but just clenched her teeth and weaved around the tables of socializing scientists in the dining room, barging through the swinging doors with more force than necessary and letting them bat together loudly behind her.
It was surprisingly windy out on the deck. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she raised a curious glance to the night sky. Just an hour previous there had been not a cloud in sight, but now a wall of thick dark clouds loomed from the west. The strong breeze was cool, a stark contrast to the warm night air it moved into.
It was probably going to rain. She’d better get back to her room before her short wavy locks frizzed up. She hadn’t thought to bring many hair products with her on this cruise, but she hadn’t been planning for anything other than blazing sun. The many bottles of SPF 50 on her bedside table spoke to that.
Once safely back in the private warmth of her room, with a locked door between her and the world, Junia’s temper began to settle.
‘Well great, more people to avoid. Can’t a girl do her research in peace without people having to stir up drama?’ She thought to herself, eyeing the diving gear she’d dumped on the floor earlier. She should probably clean it. Though mostly dry by now, there were bits of seaweed, sand, and salt residue.
Grabbing some sanitary wipes and the small trash can, she got to work cleaning the suit. Zoning out at the repetitive motions, her mind returned to contemplate the ruins she’d seen today.
Junia thought it was odd how all the ruins of Apophysis that were most intact were deep underwater. If the city had fallen by war, which seemed more likely than disease given the deliberate destruction of several of the buildings and other structures they’d discovered, why would the few ruins they discovered on land be in worse condition than those in the ocean? Shouldn’t erosion and the disturbance of sea life have deteriorated those faster?
It all left her with so many questions. Which, to her, was exciting. If she could figure something out here she’d not only be a step closer to unraveling the mysteries of this ancient civilization, but any groundbreaking discovery would be enough to launch her into the kind of fame and renown that would greatly expedite her research.
Yes, she was being paid by the University’s graduate program to go on this cruise and conduct research on the ruins, but that sum just barely covered her living costs. Food, housing, and everyday expenses… but not much else. So getting her hands on quality equipment and materials was proving difficult. Even her diving equipment was a rental.
Something fell out of the swim fin she had been scrubbing. Scooting back, she reached between her legs to get it. Holding it up to the light, it was a round rock-like shape covered in grime.
Wiping off the surface, Junia peered at it closer. What was this? Beneath the dirt, it was a dark but beautiful blue, near-black color that was somewhat transparent, like a crystal, although the surface was more rough. It reminded her of sea glass, but less fragile.
Clearing away more of the grime until it was clean, Junia curiously inspected the circular rock. This was too well shaped to be natural, it had been cut by human hands. A smooth circular ridge framed the outer part of the circle. Was this decorative in nature? Flipping it over to inspect the back, Junia gasped. There were Apophyian symbols engraved in a circle on the back, and one large symbol in the middle.
There was no official translation for Apophyian, having only been recently discovered within the past 20 years, but there was some loose suggestions for translations for the most popular recurring symbols put together by leading researchers in the field. Junia herself had her own theories of what each symbol meant based on their context, but due to the lack of undamaged ruins, it was difficult to find more than 5-6 symbols side to side intact. So there was no way to prove any guesses she’d developed, but she had discovered a few years ago that the symbols seemed to resemble ancient pictorial languages like Egyptian hieroglyphs and early traditional mandarin Chinese, and found enough similar patterns to make some connections and possible translations.
Most of the symbols on this odd rock however, which she assumed was perhaps a votive amulet of some kind, were unlike the ones she’d observed on the other ruins. That made sense, considering those ruins had been architectural remains and she wouldn’t expect the words engraved on a bridge or a tower to be the same as ones carved into an amulet. There were a few she did recognize though.
The word she had speculated meant “ocean,” which she was definitely not surprised to see, was one. The other she recognized though, was the symbol for “power” or “force” which, if this object truly did have a votive purpose, also made sense. An amulet for protection. It was rather fancy to be a personal item, though. Perhaps this had belonged to an important person or rulerm, or even symbolically, to a deity.
Regardless of its original purpose and value, this object was definitely priceless to her and her fellow Apophyian researchers. Putting it in a plastic baggie to help preserve it, she carefully zipped it into her jacket pocket. Junia didn’t intend to take even the slightest chance to damage or lose such an important item. She supposed she should notify the others of what she found right away, but considering her awkward exchange with Dr. Danforth and the others at dinner, she would rather not face them again soon if she could help it. Best to keep it with her for now and tell them tomorrow.
A loud knock on her door made her startle guiltily. Junia felt like laughing at herself - it’s not like she was hiding it from them on purpose, so what reason did she have to feel guilty? Shaking her head at herself, she glared at the door.
~~~
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The Crimson Cross - Bill Skarsgard
Title: The Crimson Cross
Characters: Bill Skarsgard x ambiguous fem OC
Warning: 18+ horror themes/religious themes
Note: Happy October! I have lots of fun Halloween events planned this year! I wrote this last year as part of my Halloween Special Fic Prompt Challenge. I have since rewritten it and here it is once more! This was based on a few great reader prompts sent in last year! Patreon subscribers got early access to this fic during the month of Smutember! Enjoy!
"I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."
"What's this camera for?" I asked.
I watched him set up one last camera on the granite island in the middle of my kitchen. He fastened it to a small, bendable tripod and pointed the lens right at where I was sitting on an Ikea barstool.
"This one is going to be your journal camera, see?" He pointed to a label on the side of it that said journal cam #1. "I would like for you to record some entries with this. Feel free to take it into another room if you want to, although there is good lighting in here. It's just so I can keep a log of everything; including how you feel each day at any given time. You don't have to be thorough with it. Even just a minute or two each day to say how you feel and if you experience any changes. Anything at all. Even if you just want to vent. Whatever you like."
He turned on the camera and circled to where I was seated. "This is case number seventy-five. The day is October third, two-thousand eighteen. Day one of recording. Now, please state your name and age, and if you could confirm that today is October the third."
I did as I was told and spoke directly into the camera. I felt a crack of nervousness erupt over my face, but Bill assured me that once I got used to the cameras, it would become second nature. He brought several bags of equipment including a small black leather briefcase that contained various religious relics pressed neatly into red velour slots. There was a place for a small glass decanter of holy water, a crucifix, a rosary, and a bible. When I gazed upon the items in his briefcase, the reality seemed far too stark again.
"You don't look like a priest," I commented.
"That's because I'm not a priest. I'm a demonologist."
"But the church sent you."
"Yes. I work very closely with the church in town."
"That must be an interesting career choice. Demonologist? Did you always aspire to become one?"
Bill's lips pressed together like he was withholding a dark confession and then, with a sigh, he gave voice to what he needed to say to satiate my curiosity. "I wouldn't say I volunteered for this job. It's not something I dreamed of as a kid or anything- exorcising demons and whatnot. I'd say I was chosen for it by a higher power."
"So you are religious?"
His eyes settled on me gravely. For a moment, I thought maybe I had offended him, but he sighed and shook his head slowly. "I know there's good in the world and evil. I want to be on the right side when the day of reckoning comes, you know? I'm not a devout Christian, but ma'am, I have seen some things that would make you think twice about what exists beyond this Earthly realm."
Then it was my turn to grimace with displeasure, for I knew far too well that there were forces of malicious intent. Of course, nobody believed me when I told them that I was being tormented by a spirit that seemed to harbour an abhorrence for me. Several anomalies had occurred that I could not give an explanation to and when I told my close friends and relatives they all had their different theories at the ready, none of them comforting.
"You must have been sleep-walking."
"There's always some explanation for those types of things."
"Maybe it was somebody just playing a prank?"
"I don't believe in ghosts. I especially don't believe in demons! Come on... It could have been a tremor. They're more common than you'd think!"
I knew it was none of those things. Not when every mirror in my house had been smashed out, including the tiny circular mirror in my makeup compact. Any reflective surface that I had ever looked at myself in had shattered. At first, I thought maybe it was a slight earthquake overnight, but the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Why would every mirror break and not every glass picture frame? Why would the china teacups in my kitchen remain unscathed? How could it be that the windows remained intact?
Then one night I heard the voice. It started as a low hum that barely roused me from my slumber but soon climbed octaves until it pierced my eardrums and violently ripped me from sleep. I sat up in bed and listened hard. My friends blamed the sound on Tinnitus, but I had thwarted that theory by going to see a doctor who told me that my hearing was just fine. The sound grew and grew until I couldn't take it, and the moment I covered my ears and closed my eyes, my new bedroom mirror shattered like thin ice.
Something was angry with me, and I didn't know what to do. That was when I sought help from the church. I hadn't set foot inside a church for nearly two decades, but I was desperate for answers. So desperate that I set aside my morals, bit the bullet and admitted that a spirit was tormenting me. The priest I spoke to didn't question me or suggest that perhaps I needed to see a psychologist. He believed me immediately and referred me directly to Bill; the resident demonologist who lived in the outskirts of town.
The entire process seemed too easy, and before I knew it, Bill had come to my house to survey the scene, set up cameras and to smear every room with holy water while I waited outside for him to finish up. I stood on the front lawn in my boots and a denim jacket to keep me warm in the brisk morning of early Autumn. He was in there for nearly an hour after setting everything up and came out with all of his bags and the small briefcase containing his religious talismans.
He grinned politely at me as he approached, trudging through the damp grass and newly fallen leaves to where I was standing with my arms crossed over my chest.
"I left my card next to the journal camera in case you need to call me. I'm usually available at any time but if you miss me, leave me a message, and I'll get back to you."
"All right. Well, I'm very grateful for everything. I wasn't expecting to find help so easily."
"I understand what it's like to be in this type of situation. Most people try to rationalize or tack on any number of explanations until it becomes too late."
"Too late?"
Bill shifted uncomfortably from side to side. He wore a long black wool coat and leather gloves that squeaked when he adjusted his grip on the briefcase handle. "There's a reason why the church has hired me. Cases like these have reached an all-time high. I don't want to scare you though so I'll spare you the details."
"No... Please. I want to know," I urged.
"Let's say the last case I had, number seventy-four... They waited too long to contact anybody. There was," Bill sighed, his breath turning to vapour in the fresh air. "There was an accident. It's still under investigation. I can't exactly say what it was because I still don't know myself. All I can say is that it was good of you to reach out as soon as you did. The success rate of banishment is higher in the early stages."
"Early stages?"
"I could talk for hours about each case and how it differs from the last. No two have been the same, so I don't want to worry you. Honestly. You will be fine."
"No offence, but nothing you are saying to me is providing any comfort. Am I going to die? Does this spirit want me dead?"
"This is why I don't like answering too many questions. It's like looking up your symptoms online. You're going to settle on the first drastic theory that you are in danger and it will consume you. I want you to maintain a clear head. This always works better if you're able to stay level. It's harder to penetrate a strong mind than a weak one, and you don't strike me as weak-minded."
The strange compliment made me smirk, but I remained shaken to the core from everything that had transpired. Bill set down the duffle bag he had brought that housed his camera equipment and stuck out his gloved hand for me to shake.
"Like I said... If you need anything at all, my card is on your counter. You can call text or e-mail me. Whatever you like. I'll be back in a week to go over the footage and to assess the house again. Oh. Also, don't be alarmed when you see your bedroom door. It's just a precaution."
Bill nodded curtly, picked up the duffle bag and left after loading it all into the trunk of his car. I saw him off with a wave, and once he pulled out and drove away, I made my way back inside.
There was a camera installed in each room of the house and one pointing down the hallway. When I went upstairs, I stopped abruptly and gazed down the hall at a crude red cross painted on my bedroom door. I scoffed as I approached it, shocked but not entirely surprised to see it. Bill had painted a huge red cross on my door. The closer I got, the quicker it became evident that he hadn't used regular paint to mark it. The cross drawn in blood dribbled down towards the floor, drying in some spots and still wet in others. With the tip of my index finger, I touched the right arm of the cross and rubbed it over my thumb. When I smelled it, my gut churned from the acrid stench of some pitiful beast's blood.
~*~
"So this is the first morning that I am recording... I guess this is my journal. Bill told me to say how I'm feeling, how the night went, whether I experienced any changes or not and I have to say that despite there being a huge, bloody red cross on my bedroom door, I slept like a baby! No noises. No broken glass or windows. Just nightmares of Bill slathering God knows whose blood on my newly painted door. So thank you for that, Bill. That is truly disgusting," I laughed.
"Today I'm going out for a while into town to pick up some groceries and things, probably going to go to the gym. Just boring everyday stuff, I guess I'll let you know about it tomorrow when I make my next entry. Um, goodbye, I guess?"
The day went on as normal as any other day. I completed all of my errands, and when I got home, I made myself dinner and sat down to watch TV. After all of the stress, I tried to take my mind off the cameras pointed at me. It was strange to know but easy to forget after a while.
A soft dusting of fuzz came over the TV screen and then flickered back to normal. I waited for it to happen again and when it didn't, I shook my head. Then it happened again, quicker this time. The interference skewed the image of the popular talk-show host, and the sound blipped.
"Goodbye, I guess?"
I put down my phone and looked behind me.
"Goodbye, I guess?" It repeated.
Whipping around, I looked back into the kitchen instinctively to see if something was amiss. The television went grey and fuzzy, but I could still see the images from the show I was watching only the sound was off, and I swore I heard my voice.
"Huge, bloody red cross. Goodbye."
The plunge my heart took nearly stole my breath, and I jumped up on the couch as though the ground was going to swallow me whole.
"Is this a joke?" I called out.
Scrambling from the couch, I went to the corner of the living room to peer at the camera mounted to the ceiling. "If this is some joke, I am seriously not laughing! Why would you fuck with me like this?"
I knew that nobody was playing a joke on me, and the ringing of terror shook my insides and threatened to make bile rise from my stomach.
"Huge, bloody red cross. Huge, bloody red cross. HUGE BLOODY RED CROSS!" The words boomed through the speakers of my surround sound system until the television turned itself off with an electric crackle, leaving me in a silence that was just as horrific as the words that screamed at me.
I ran to the kitchen and found Bill's card to dial his number as quickly as my fingers would allow. I had to backspace several times because I couldn't type the numbers correctly with hands shaking. When I finally had it, I pressed send and held the phone up to my ear, quietly begging for Bill to answer. It was late, and I half expected to get his voicemail, but he picked up, and I let out the breath clenched up in my lungs.
"Hello?"
"Bill! It's me. Please. Something is happening. I'm scared."
"What? What is happening?"
"I don't know! I don't know!" I yelled. "My voice... My voice started playing on the TV!"
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know! Please! I don't know. I can't be here. Please, you have to fix this."
"No, don't leave. Do not leave the house. Don't bend to its will. You have to remain there."
"I can't!" I began to cry. "I'm scared. It was yelling... Shrieking! I don't know how it had my voice, but it was my voice, and it was repeating what I said this morning!"
Bill grunted tiredly. Any other time I would have felt terrible for calling somebody so late, but I was terrified of what would happen if I remained alone in my house.
"Listen to me. Stay where you are. Do not leave! I'm on my way over right now. I'll be there in a few minutes."
He hung up the phone, and I stared blankly at the screen until it timed out and went black. As I waited, I turned on every light in the house and stood in the middle of my kitchen with a chef's knife in hand. I knew it was silly but having a weapon with me made me feel slightly safer, especially when the kitchen lights started flickering.
"Get out of my house, whatever you are! Spirit... Demon... You are not welcome here!" I yelled.
The light fixture above the kitchen island quivered with protest, and I cowered up against a wall, shielding my face with my arm, knife still poised in my hand.
"Get out! You don't belong here! Go fuck with somebody else!"
The television turned on again only it didn't come back to the channel I had been watching. Instead, it was a feed of me sitting at the kitchen island, looking into the journal camera with a stupid grin on my bare face.
"Huge, bloody red cross... Just nightmares. Goodbye, I guess. Just nightmares. Nightmares. Bloody red cross. Blood. Goodbye."
"STOP! STOP IT!" I screamed.
"Bloody red. Nightmares. Goodbye. Goodbye. Bloody red cross."
The video played over on a loop until the screen went grey and sparkled with fuzz-- the image of me distorting and the sound of my voice coming out lower and louder than before.
"BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED, BLOODY RED!"
I couldn't take the torture anymore. I ran into the living room, dropped to my knees hard enough to burn against the carpet and pulled the entire power bar from the outlet, effectively silencing the TV and all of the speakers it played through. Tears boiled in my eyes and I cried on the floor clutching the chef's knife in one hand and my chest with the other.
The knock on my door made me yelp, and I swivelled my body around as Bill barged in through the front door. He was white as a ghost in the face, and when he found me on my knees next to the TV, he turned even paler.
"Are you okay?" He approached, kneeling to grasp my shoulders.
"I can't stay here," I blubbered through tears and snot.
"Listen to me... Listen to me! Please. I know you're scared, but you have to stay right here."
"I don't want to! Don't make me!"
"I'll stay here with you if that's what it takes. However, you cannot flee."
"I'm losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind. I promise. Hey... Hey! Look at me," Bill tipped my chin up and gazed upon my wet, contorted face.
He wiped the tears from my cheeks with two thumbs but as soon as he did more salty hot liquid ran down to replace what he had just cleared away. Bill looked upon my face with pity and hugged me close. I whimpered into the collar of his shirt as he hushed me and began to rock me back and forth.
"I'll stay. I'll stay. You'll be safe. I promise. I'll keep you safe."
~*~
Bill tried to insist that I sleep in my bedroom and that he would sleep on the living room couch, but I could not be convinced to stay the night without the presence of another person in the house. After some arguing, we reached a verdict. I would sleep on the couch, and Bill would stay near me on the floor on top of a sleeping bag. I felt silly to have made a fully grown man sleep on the floor beside me, but without someone there, I would have never been able to close my eyes for more than what it took to blink.
The next morning I woke up to the smell of coffee and cooking. I rose from the couch, no doubt looking frightful with my hair mussed and a night's worth of crust built up in the corners of my eyes.
"Good morning," Bill said as he approached with a mug of steaming coffee.
I accepted the mug with a gracious nod though I said nothing. Bill stood tall above me and watched as I took a small sip of the piping hot liquid, grimacing when I realized it was still far too warm to consume.
"Easy there. I just made it," he warned after the fact.
I went to set the mug down on the coffee table, but I soon realized that we had moved it to the other side of the room so that Bill could sleep parallel to me on the carpet. He watched as I struggled to keep hold of the scalding cup and simpered softly before taking it from my hands again.
"Here, I'll just put this back over here, and you can have it in a minute. Hope you don't mind I've taken the liberty of making breakfast. I'm one of those people that needs to eat right after waking up, and I didn't want to leave you. I also didn't want to wake you either."
"That's okay," my voice cracked.
"How are you feeling this morning?" He asked as though reminding me of the night's events was the last thing he wanted to do.
I shrugged my shoulders, and one strap of my tank top came down with it. Bill's lips cocked for a moment, and he reached, plucked the strap and shifted it back into place.
"Well, why don't you go hop in the shower or do whatever it is you need to do in the morning, and by the time you finish up, breakfast should be ready."
"Okay. Thanks," I whispered before clearing my throat. "Thanks for coming. I know you didn't have to."
"Well... You're kind of my problem. You're my case. And I told you that you could call me at any time."
"I know but... I don't know. I feel stupid."
"Don't feel stupid. I'm here for you. As of right now, you're my main priority."
I washed, dressed and towelled my damp hair before joining Bill in the kitchen again. He set down a plate of eggs, potatoes, and toast for me and I thanked him as genuinely as possible. It had been a long time since somebody had made me a meal, and when I watched him bustle around my kitchen, I felt ten times safer. Maybe it was his height or the positive way he walked, but I somehow felt like Bill was more than qualified enough to protect me. I didn't know hardly a thing about him except that his voice was comforting and having him there made me almost forget about the horrible night I'd had.
After we finished eating and he took the dishes away, Bill turned on the journal camera much to my dismay.
"Please... I don't want to. Not after last night," I shied away.
"I need a log for my records. It's okay. You don't have to look into the lens. Just look at me instead. Pretend you're telling me. Pretend I'm your journal. Just ignore the camera."
With a sigh, I relented and began to tell him how I felt about what had transpired the night before.
"So last night, something freaky happened. I was watching TV, and suddenly a voice came over that didn't belong. It was my voice, but it sounded. I don't know. I can't quite describe it. All I can say is that it sounded off. It kept repeating to me what I had said in the morning during my first log. It kept saying bloody, red cross like it was angry with me or something. The TV started going fuzzy, and then the words just started booming over all the speakers. That's when I called Bill," I paused to nod at the man standing behind the camera. "He came over and, of course, as soon as he entered everything stopped. So I made him stay the night because I was scared as hell. Now here we are. Bill just made breakfast, and now we're sitting here enjoying our coffee."
"Good, that's good," Bill said with a smile. "Anything else?"
"Oh... Yeah, and I guess I feel a little bit better only because Bill is here. Honestly, If it weren't for him, I would have been ten counties over by now."
"But we're going to stay here and fight on, aren't we?" Bill asked.
I nodded before sipping my coffee again. "We're going to stay here and fight."
"Because you promised me that you would stay, right?"
Rolling my eyes, I laughed, "because I promised Bill that I wouldn't leave."
When he powered down the camera, he looked at me with an uneasy smile. "Well, I guess I should get going. I have some things I need to do today-"
"You're leaving?" I asked incredulously before shaking my head.
Of course, he was leaving. It would have been foolish for me to think that he would drop everything to accompany me, but when I looked at him again, I didn't want to spend another night alone. The fear that I had felt so potently in my chest returned, and tears threatened to make another appearance down my cheeks.
"Well, yeah. I don't have any clean clothes here, and I have some work to do."
He saw how I bit my lip and worried with my fingers picking at the underside of my nails.
"I can come back after," he offered.
"Would you? Oh. No. I shouldn't. I guess I shouldn't bother you again. Sorry. I know it's dumb of me to think-"
"How about I come back later tonight to check up on you?"
I nodded, relieved as could be. "Okay. That's... Good. That's fine."
Bill smirked at me. "I'll bring an air mattress."
Then it was my turn to smirk.
~*~
Bill kept his promise and showed up at the door with a gym bag and a rolled-up air mattress. Greeting him at the door felt like the beginning of a fun sleepover, but I couldn't kid myself for long. He was there solely for my protection; even if we only make popcorn and chatted about things that were irrelevant to my case. We blew up the mattress, but it remained untouched as Bill sat beside me on the couch with a laptop open, going over some of the footage from the night before. I told him that I didn't want to look, but every once in awhile, I would peer over to see what he was doing.
When he finished with his work, he folded his small laptop and stowed it away in the bag brought with him. I saw that he had a change of clothes and a couple of pairs of socks in the gym bag and suddenly felt terrible again for insisting he stay with me. After all, he was an adult with his own life and priorities, and I was nearly a stranger to him.
"You don't have to stay the night again. I know it's not necessary."
"Don't be silly. I told you a hundred times. It's fine. Plus, I would rather stay to make sure that you don't flee the country or something."
"I won't."
"I know but... Trust me. If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. You're my top priority."
"Do you even get paid to do this?" I asked him.
"The church pays me, but like I said before... I didn't exactly volunteer myself to this cause. It's more of an obligation."
"That doesn't sound pleasant at all," I said with a grimace.
Bill sighed deeply and reached out to touch the back of my palm softly, "I can at least find solace in knowing I've helped those that cannot help themselves."
When I thought that he would take his hand away, I was mistaken. Bill only moved closer to me on the couch and grasped my hand a tighter. I spread my fingers out, and he threaded his own through the spaces created.
"I know what it's like to be so afraid that you can't think straight," he said in a voice that bordered a whisper. "I want to keep you safe."
"Thank you," I murmured.
"You were put on my path for a reason. I know it. I was meant to protect you."
"How do you know that?" I inquired.
"Last night, before you called me... I was dreaming about you. I couldn't escape the feeling that I was meant to meet you. It was as though something was trying to tell me that you were in trouble and that I needed to go to you. Then you called, and that was all I needed to be convinced. I'm supposed to be here with you."
Bill lifted my hand and brought the back of my palm to his lips. I shivered when he pressed a kiss to my skin, but I had never felt safer in my life.
"We're going to battle this together."
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Fire and water imagery in episode 11
Mostly water thoughts today!
The biggest volume-wise instance of water in this episode is surrounding Vegas’ safe house—although this screencap doesn’t show it, there’s water on both sides of the house. This is an interesting contrast with the minor family’s usual base, which has no water, especially as opposed to the main family house, which has lots. The other parallel I saw here was with the boat that Kinn kidnaps Porsche onto in episode 1.
Another Porsche pool scene! And so nicely paralleled/contrasted with the Vegas pool scene in episode 9—literally even the angle here is the same when Porsche gets out to sit on the side of the pool. It’s daytime; he’s been swimming, rather than reflecting at the bottom of the pool; it’s Porsche that starts the conversation, despite Chay surprising him there. I mentioned in my thoughts on the ep 9 scene that we almost only see their profiles; while the fact that there is a swimming pool in the way makes it hard to film them face-on, there are way fewer profile angles/shots from behind here, and certainly more from the front. In ep 9, Vegas has come to “apologise” to Porsche (see: further manipulate him into trusting him); here Chay is coming with his heart open and hurting and needing Porsche’s reassurance in return. Porsche is so much more open and honest here than with Vegas, where he was closed off and cautious. It’s just a really lovely contrast!
There’s also something about how still the water is in ep 9 (like, Apo even did his incredibly obscene slinky-slide into the pool in the BTS—to stop the water from rippling too much?), and here it’s all full of ripples and movement. I’ve not really thought of it in this way before but looking back I wonder if it’s not too much to say that there is something threatening about still water (main mafia family pool, The Pool lurking when KP have unsaid things between them, the water all around the minor family safehouse), and something less so about water with movement? (The river by which KP have their first kiss, the stream in the woods, the water feature in ep 8.) Maybe I am just reading too much into it though!
Ohoho, some strong parallels here to that episode 1 boat scene. You think you can get away? The water is trapping Pete here with Vegas. The only thing is, while Porsche was ready and able to jump into it to get out of there, Pete isn’t given the chance—unlike Kinn pursuing Porsche (mostly) because of his father’s directives, Vegas has been actively told by his father to get rid of Pete, and is going directly against him to keep him here. There have been so many excellent thoughts written already on what Pete means to/for Vegas, but the most important one here is that he’s not going to let him get away. Yet? (Boy, I hope that it’s a yet. An ep 6 ending parallel would simply end me. But I am getting off track!)
Porsche is smoking again in the bar scene! (Cue me panic-messaging my meta thoughts friends about what this means for my smoking theories, lol.) He’s clearly relaxed and enjoying himself, and bringing Kinn into this place of comfort for him and into his family (Yok)—so I guess if he’s enjoying that comfort, why wouldn’t he be smoking. Maybe my theories are intact. It’s cosy and familiar and his fiery spark comes easily in that combination of home + Kinn’s presence.
(Thoughts on mirrors and reflections in this episode here / fire and water imagery gdoc that has thoughts for all aired episodes here / series tag)
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The Near-Death-Experience Theory (KH Unchained)
Oh boy...Don’t I have something fun here...
(Also a TLDR at the bottom)
With the translation to the Union X novel finally released, in-depth secrets come to light, of course, with a little bit of digging as well.
In my case, one thing seems to puzzle me more than ever...the Player's connection with Nightmare Chirithy; something that eluded most of the fanbase since Unchained and Union X was released. Of course, the Chirithy the Player has acts more like a parental figure than a close friend (now implied with Elrena and Blaine’s Chirithies), but maybe there's a reason for that...What if something happened to the Player and he had to have his Chirithy replaced?
As the title says above, what if the Player suffered a near-death experience just before Unchained and his Chirithy "disconnected" from his wielder to later become a Nightmare? And what if said Nightmare becomes the focal point of the War?
(To avoid running on old steam, I'll call the Player Hero (personal headcanon name) and the Nightmare Chirithy OG Chirithy. I'll mostly go off the novel for the fine details and list the pages, so have fun following along if you have the novel too! [I’ll add some screenshots of the pages or just explain the major details, don’t blame me if it’s a bit sloppy or all over-the-place..It’s more than recommended to read from start-to-finish, just in case.😉])
Comment or reblog if you’re interested!
First, I'm going off some unusual traits Hero possesses that might describe some past "incident" and the repercussions that follow.
How Hero obtained the Keyblade (Page 15)
The one thing that contrasts between the novel and the game is the introduction. Of course, it means the Keyblade hero of Light goes through some weird dream sequence at the Station of Awakening and gets their Keyblade, right? Well, not for Hero's case. The mobile includes that feature (albeit the lack of self-portrait glass mural) while the novel doesn't even bother to describe the scene at all.
Why, you ask? Well, most people ignore this key detail...
Out of every dive in the heart in the series, they usually wake up from that sleep (either on the beach for Sora or in Twilight Town for Roxas), but Hero starts off fresh out of Dive-time at the Fountain Square.
(Little tidbit and KH3 spoiler, the Station of Awakening is akin to the veil between life and death. The more you know...)
In my opinion, I would suppose that the Foretellers would pick their wielders, or the wielders pick their Master, vice versa; just a normal application or suggestion to get the ball rolling...
Hero's sense of navigation (page 22)
Little sidenote honestly. But how does a kid who was born and raised in Daybreak have no idea how to get to the Waterfront Park?
Screw that, he should know the place like the back of his hand!
The Neo Shadow Trio (Pages 31-33)
Now, this trio caught me a bit by surprise. Of course, even if they didn't survive the Neo Shadow attack, the last member managed to hold them off for a couple of days until their final breath. That's a bummer, I know, but it's strange how Hero never considered working with a team beforehand.
But the question still remains...
Here's a simple answer for you; kids die!
The Power Bangle (Pages 33-34)
Isn't it just a coincidence that when Hero wants to get stronger, especially when he wants friends that actually stay with him, a Chirithy comes around with all the answers he needs?
Even if the promise is enticing, he hesitates.
"Wasn't guilt that awful feeling you got when you did something wrong?"
In my opinion, Hero's definition of Guilt is somewhat confusing. While the Neo Shadow Trio "left him", Hero felt guilty about not being strong enough to protect others. In a strange sort of way, those are the two things he feels guilty about, and the two things that all Keyblade wielders have to follow.
Having friends to give them strength, and power to protect themselves.
Hero, for that brief moment of loss and confusion, was guilty about not following either of those pieces of advice.
Finally, Hero's little speech before throwing himself into the jaws of possible death (Pages 84-85)
While it was pretty inspirational and moving, even if this reaction was spurred on by Ava, he had a lot more of a burden to get off his chest after Ephemer's "death".
He explains how, no matter how hard he worked for Anguis, it felt incredibly unfair to have that all taken away from him.
What caught me off guard was his realization of the Darklings and how he was ready to throw his life away to "avenge" Em.
I had to fight who I considered my friends?
Did Hero know that the Darklings were the Neo Shadow Trio?
Of course, for such a young and ambitious wielder, none of the Foretellers take the time to describe what Darkness should be. Even with his sense of heroics, no one would have the balls to go against a Foreteller, especially not the one they follow. Also, don’t just be a child soldier, be a child soldier with feelings!
Alright then...even if this seems like a stretch, but it feels like Hero holds some kind of untold trauma in his heart, but just doesn't understand (or remembers) why. He's way too quiet than other people, doesn't think a lot about others (or getting help from other wielders), and even if he got friends, he can get pretty defensive if something happened to them or blames himself for something out of his control. It's a bit interesting, right?
Well don't worry, it gets far more interesting with the OG Chirithy, believe me!
OG Chirithy reflects Hero’s original personality before the accident (Pages 33-34, 79-80)
As mentioned earlier with Elrena and Blaine, I believe that, if given enough time and partnership, they can reflect their wielder's more intimate and personal interests and personality. (ie, Elrena's Chirithy is caring and considerate of others, as opposed to Elrena being spunky and more of a lone-wolf kind of girl. Blaine's Chirithy is sassy and demanding, something Blaine puts aside for a cool and charismatic mannerism.)
With that little fact in mind, we can put together Hero's "original" personality based on OG/Nightmare Chirithy's appearances.
First, when Hero is given the Power Bangle.
The first thing OG Chirithy does is congratulate Hero for all the hard work and how much he grew since day one (something the other Chirithy tones down to a teacher-student kind of exchange), and Hero was just thinking about getting stronger; offers him the Power Bangle.
The entire conversation seems relaxed and straightforward; with the Bangle, Hero can collect Lux and Guilt for his Union and himself respectively.
It's also worth noticing that "The sparkling Power Bangle fit so comfortably that it was hard to believe you'd only just put it on. You were so pleased you couldn't help but show it off." (pg 33). It's really surprising to consider how that Chirithy knew Hero's wrist size, even for a simple accessory. It's tempting to say the least...or he just knows his measurements, something like that.
Second, after the battle with the Darklings.
Despite the surprising revelation with the Darklings' origin, OG Chirithy was surprisingly calm about the whole situation.
"I thought if I took away everyone's Lux, there'd be no reason to fight anymore."
Of course, this was all because of Hero learning about the coming end-times and wielders starting to fight over Lux from Skuld, so it's strange to consider why taking wielder's Lux would solve the problem.
In my opinion, this means something more: for everyone to be equal. Lux means fighting stronger Heartless, and the more Lux a wielder has makes them arrogant and prideful. By equalizing wielders' Lux income, that would mean them working together as a group, producing more Lux as a whole than a single overpowered tank could.
Surprisingly enough, that's also the one thing that Hero desires; friends he can relate to and fight alongside with. Even if the manner of achieving this dream seems drastic, it's something Hero's current Chirithy wouldn't understand.
All in all, OG Chirithy seems to be calm and in-control of everything around him, wants to be strong so he has friends that care about him, and he’s more than happy to make sure his wielder is happy too...albiet in some pretty unusual ways.
Now, even with the existence of a Nightmare Chirithy, everything about it seems to break a recognized loophole in Unchained. When a wielder dies or falls into Darkness, their Chirithy disappears alongside them. And even if a wielder falls into Darkness (ie turning into a Darkling), they're unable to wield a Keyblade or use Medals in their state.
Well, here's where everything gets blown out of the water!
How in the world does the OG Chirithy know about Spirits and Nightmares, while Hero's Chirithy doesn't?
Even if the novel is in the point of view of Hero's new Chirithy, there seem to be some key points that Chirithy 2 doesn't mention (the story with Backcover and the Foretellers, and even the Master of Masters himself), but here's where it gets interesting. The only Chirithy that knows about Nightmares is the very first Chirithy MoM created.
What I'm trying to say is this...If Chirithies are so interconnected with their wielders they're all "If I die, I die with you", what if the first Chirithy was a prototype Spirit?
While that warning with a wielder falling into Darkness and creating a Nightmare seems threatening enough, not a lot of wielders have enough strength to even control that Darkness, nonetheless use it with their humanity intact.
A Chirithy becoming a Nightmare, at most, would be an extremely rare case; that would mean the wielder getting overcome by Darkness and surviving on their own, and I'm pretty sure a bunch of teenagers wouldn't live up to that if they even tried.
So why, pray tell, does this mean with Hero?
Some interesting connections, actually.
In pages 65 and 87, Ava seems to know that Hero can easily be overwhelmed with his emotions (more so in the heart), but Hero seems pretty resilient to the Darkness as a whole.
If an ordinary wielder knew that their friend was offed by a Foreteller, they would've been acting a lot more brash and destructive than that; but Hero doesn't, he just acted far too calm about it all.
The day before Hero meets Ephemer, Chirithy meets OG Chirithy, though a bit darker in shade (pg 38). At that time, Chirithy remembers the Foretellers "Who's the traitor?" scene in Backcover (pg 52). Isn't it a bit of a coincidence that just as Hero finally gets a new friend, the Nightmare starts to make a move?
Even if the Foretellers knew about the Nightmare, they only looked upon themselves as this "traitor". After all, isn't it easier to put the blame on those closest to you than a random stranger? And even if the Foretellers knew about the Nightmare's wielder, would you really think that they had to put down some random kid who just so happens to possess the root of all evil?
Hero doesn't look or act corrupted at all, so he practically stays under the radar the entire time as the Foretellers eventually tear each other apart; focusing more on the "traitor" than getting rid of the obvious threat.
I know I'm rambling way too much at this point, but one thing also seemed to elude me...
Was this all part of the Master's plan?
To give a random wielder a prototype Chirithy and hope for the best?
Well, if the Master didn't know what would happen, the War never would have occurred. If the Master predicted that, with the simple act of giving the first Chirithy to Hero, would eventually lead to him almost losing his heart to Darkness (or Heartless, idk), and eventually creating the Nightmare he warned about?
And before the Foretellers could realize what happened, MoM just kept cranking out more and more Spirits to cover up the tracks; eventually leading to an army of identical Scottish Folds and absolutely way too many kids to count.
And if, after that horrifying accident, Hero suppressed his memories of the event; and in a sudden jump of adrenaline, somehow managed to reclaim his Keyblade?
(I know it seems a bit dumb to mention this now, but try to relate this to the aftermath of Sora's almost-norting from DDD. Almost losing his heart to Darkness could put a lot of strain on it; and as a result, his Keyblade suffers a "soft reboot" of sorts. After all, a Keyblade is a reflection of their heart, right? If it gets hurt, the Keyblade reflects it, no matter how stupid that plothole might have been.)
The Master of Masters said about the traitor that would start the War, all that kind of stuff in the Lost Page, but the Page never described who or what the traitor would be. Just pick out someone evil who has a way of spreading Darkness and that's that...But that's the problem here. Only the Nightmare is spreading Darkness, not the wielder; even without the person's knowledge. Hero’s connection to Nightmare Chirithy is like a walking paradox; while the wielder collects Lux and works like every other Keyblade wielder, his Chirithy works behind the scenes in ultimately causing tension and violence across for the Unions and Foretellers.
Despite the whole world practically revolving around you, maybe now you realize why...You the Player, in some crazy convoluted future-vision crap, was the traitor the whole time!
TL;DR
The Master of Masters gave Hero the very first Chirithy, but Hero almost died from Heartless/Darkness, causing him to lose his memory from the trauma (that PTSD jazz) and resetting his Keyblade's abilities. Meanwhile, with Chirithy's bond weakening from the attack, obtains the bangles, taps into the wielders' Guilt, and spreads Darkness all throughout Daybreak Town; eventually becoming the traitor and the main cataclyst of the Keyblade War.
#kh#kh unchained#kh union x#Kh uion x spoilers#player character#Chirithy#Nightmare Chirithy#kh novel spoilers#Foretellers#Master of Masters#theory
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An Adventure Awakens (RP PT.2)
The pirate and hacker duo begin their epic quest. After discovering a mysterious object within the object, how will this kickstart their adventure?
Sol: @treasureoftheseas
Trina: me
—————————————————
Trina jogs down the hall towards Hooksclave, her satchel bouncing against her hip sharply. Filled with all of her tools in hand: scan jammers, scanning glasses, etc, she didn’t pay attention to the short painful hits. Plus, some water, snacks, her headphones, portable charger for her phone, with said device in hand, and her wand, shoved into a small pocket art arched to the strap of the bag.
Soon, the front doors were in sight and Trina picked up her footing. She slammed the doors open, ignoring the weird looks the students were giving her, eyes darting to find their lead.
Soon, after running like a chicken without its head for ten minutes straight (she never had time to take a tour of the Dorm), she finds Sol in the Hooksclave library. The Pirate had multiple books and scrolls scattered on the table, some with the same weird language, others with maps and charts of ancient places.
Trina’s voice rings, “Hey, Sol! I’m here! Sorry ‘bout the wait. Couldn’t find my graphene knives for ten minutes!” She pushes out the lie like it was nothing but stale air. “But I’m here, though. So, what’s the plan?”
Sol looked over at her partially flushed-faced comrade. The former was aware that Trina always gets lost throughout Hooksclave like the impossible mazes over at Heartslabyul. But just to humor her, she takes the lie and doesn’t bring up the subject. Not until another time.
She nods. “Hey Trina. I’ve been looking over the ancient text and illustrations, and-” she waves her over to the table to see what her results were -so far-and catch her up on any missed info. “I found the general location of the empire that the language belongs to.” With one hand, she points at the wrinkled map lying on the table, to show the mass of land she centered on. Light markings of notes, written in ink, were smudged here and there, but Trina paid no mind.
“It’s in the deep sea near the country I found the sphere in.” Sol’s pointed finger slips towards the mass of ocean that was near a marked up and disfigured shape of land. “I feel like our best bet would be to go there. I mean, the engraving did say ‘To awaken the truth, one must persuade the sea’.” She recited.
Trina listens and after listening nods as assign that she understands. “Ah, going back to where it all begins. Bit clichè, if you ask me,” she throws in her two cents of sarcasm, but clasps her hands together, “But I’m ready! So, where’s the sphere? I wanna crack open that thing and see what’s up!”
At that claim, Sol nods and walks over to a nearby bookshelf. Tilting one of the books, so the upper left corner peeks out, the bookshelf triggers and sinks in, then slides to the right, revealing a secret spacious area, big enough to fit five whole bodies in.
Another one of Trina’s inventions. With some persuasion from Idia, and convincing towards the Headmaster, where it would take other Ignihyde people to finish things in about a week or so, Trina spent three days fixing a secret compartment for Sol where the Captain can keep some things hidden from the prying eyes and nosy minds of her dorm members.
A cobalt rectangular-shaped block. The door popped out a bit more, displaying the number pad and a fingerprint scan secured into the front. And right below it, a hexagonal shape etched into the bottom right hand corner with a cursive “H” painted in a bright Cardinal Red.
Slipping the white glove off her hand, Sol places the pad of her left thumb on the small scan screen. A green line moves up and down, then sends out a “beep” of approval after scanning. Turning to the keypad, she pushes in a four-digit code and after a second beep, the lock inside clicks, signaling that the safe is now unguarded.
She pulls open the door and sitting stoutly is the questionable object both girls had been left pondering about.
Turning back to Trina, who was texting someone on her phone, shuts it off at the sound of boots clicking against the floor toward the table space.
“Here it is, I wanted to make sure it was safe, so I hid it. You never know who’s watching after all.” She claims, her time a grateful one towards Tris. “Here you go.” Plunking it into Trina’s hands, Sol reminds her, “Just remember to not let it kill you.” A serious tone takes up her cords.
Trina doesn’t pay heed to the seriousness, having gotten used to it for so long, and winks in return. “Gotcha.” Spinning to the doorway, she takes her time getting to the workshop next door, which just so happens to be next to the area where the dorm ships are docked. After spotting another empty table, she placed the object in question on the table. Flinging her bag next, she zips it open, and starts digging for her tool. “ ‘Kay, beastie, what’cha got for me?” With a screwdriver in hand, and a smirk on her lips, Trina begins her work.
———Fifteen minutes later———
Grabbing a small towel, Trina dabs at the sweat beading on her forehead.
A quarter of an hour, from pulling out fried wires to unscrewing and rescreding pieces, hopefully would be worth for what Trina eventually unearthed within this contraption. Muttering, “Okay, I made a few dents in this thing. Wasn’t easy...but I think I found something Sol may be interested in.” Unfurling her fist, she brought out the mysterious object she had held in her lap for ten minutes.
The object in question was a cylinder-shaped tube no bigger than a can of soda, with two firm silver rods hitting out the top. However, inside, was a more bigger mystery: a red plastic cylinder as big as a thimble, fitted in a compartment, and coming out from the ends were two silvery wires, one had semi-thrashed wires, the other perfectly intact. Both ends of the wires were connected into a circuit board within the first cylinder, and etched into the side a weird symbol, probably originated from the same place as the language encrypted on the surface.
Sol, on the other hand, had just finished her final analysis and planning of the trip. She decides to go check on Trina and catch up on any progress she’s made. However, the hunched over figure wasn’t what caught her attention. Rather, it was the mysterious item clutched in Homura’s hands. Sol skips over to where Trina sits, looking over her shoulder, and widens her eyes in surprise at the much closer look. “Okay, now that is strange. What do you think it is?” She questions as she moved to Tris’ side.
“Looks like a cross between a diode and a capacitor. But that’s just my theory.” Tris shrugs nonchalantly, not bothered by the fact that Sol appeared out of thin air. Turning on her stool, Tris continues, “I managed to carve out a few more pieces and the exterior of the object for further examination.” She nods over to a pile of extra gizmos cut out from the machine.
Sol tried to follow through with what she was saying, but nods nonetheless. “Er, well in any case, at least you were able to get something out of it, and it didn’t explode.” Shifting her body to the doorway, she walks out. Tris scoops everything into her bag, caring less about the mess, and jogs after her to the docks.
They soon arrived. “I’ll start setting sail; since my sailboat doesn’t have any defenses, were going to have to take this ship.” Sol points to a boat big enough to fit several cruise passengers in. An eggshell white sail gently flutters in the breeze. Some small boxes were moved and tucked into each other to make room as Sol steps into the boat. She places her documents in her bag, which she plops directly by her feet for safekeeping. “Since we’ll be flying, we should get there in a few hours. I’ll be manning the helm. Let me know if anything new happens.” She directs while fussing with a couple of ropes.
Tris just looks at her like she was speaking Martian. “Uhm...sure.” She decides not to say anything else, and instead focused on the objects in her hands. Carefully placing them in airlock bags, she takes precision not to lose any pieces in the calm waters. Most people would definitely freak if they suddenly dropped anything in the ocean, and Trina is no stranger to that. But hey: one person’s loss is another person’s gain! And the more you gain, the more you’ll reach ultimate success. At least, that’s what her father claims....
“By the way, no one else is gonna know about this, right?” Random, but hey, she had to say something. After checking all her stuff was together, she, unexpectedly continues, “For several reasons, One: you know how fast word travels around these halls and Two: cuz, in some scenarios, if people know they’ll wanna tag along, which could end up with any of us in perilous danger, someone ends up betraying their team, the list goes on!”
...............
Okay, usually at this point, the sound of an audience laughing would pop up as if you were watching a sitcom. But...NOPE. ITS REAL LIFE, BYOTCH.
Tris, after getting ahold of herself, reflects back in what she said and lightly slaps her cheeks in a flurry. Like this:
“Damnit, I gotta stop watching those adventure movies!”
Sol was watching the display and chuckled at her witty antics. “You don’t have to worry about that. I told my dorm members that if they leave us alone and keep quiet about us using the ship, they could have a party after we get back.” She tugs at a mass of ropes for extra security. “ I also threatened that if they told anyone, I’d drop ‘em off at a deserted island. So long as we aren’t gone for too long, we should be fine.” She motions to get into the boat before hauling anchor.
Trina throws up a mock salute. “Whatever you say.” She tips carefully into the boat, throwing her bag gently aside. Just as she sits down, the anchor was fully hauled, the sail fluttered out, and the boat began its move out into the clear blue vastness.
‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this....’ Sol thinks as she handles the wheel with care. A pit of nervousness grows in her stomach the further they move out. If her calculations were correct, they should reach the island a little after noon. As long as they didn’t run into any obstacles
Meanwhile,
‘Might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts.’ Trina slips on her blue and black headphones, and scans through her playlist. ‘And...cue the Traveling Montage.’ After tapping the Play Button, Tris lets the music blare out the noises for the long haul ahead.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pAgnJDJN4VA
youtube
———————————————
And so our duo begin their perilous journey into the unknown. What will await them? What secrets will they uncover? Will they stumble into something more dangerous than expected? Why am I asking you all these questions?!
....stay tuned!

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Fic: A Dawning realisation
Another worldbuilding one-shot. A different night, and another incident for Denis Joplin, Sheriff of Vegas Below - but this time it’s much worse than mutant vampiric housecats.
Title: A Dawning realisation (Wattpad)
Setting: VTM-with-the-serial-numbers-filed-off. Also, Vegas.
Warnings: Gore.
Words: 1912
Summary: It’s three in the morning, and there have been at least two murders. You’d think that would be the worst part of the night.
-
There certainly was an impressive amount of blood.
Ducking under the hastily-installed barrier of crime tape – and feeling a shiver in his fingertips mirrored behind his eyelids as the glamour fell away – Denis Joplin found himself stopping short at the revealed scene. This far into Fremont and two alleys deep behind a derelict convenience store, it’d be reasonable to expect at least something nasty lurking around the dumpsters. But this was way beyond even cynical assumptions.
The alleyway itself was less of a single passage than a collision of other spaces – one leading north, half-blocked off by the rusting carcass of a long-fallen fire escape; one going west that seemed to be where pallets came to die; and a sagging hole in the southern wall that opened into more rat-runs beyond. Garbage was ankle-deep, except for on the pathways newly torn by desperate footfalls and scrabbling fingers. One body – still at least roughly the shape it should be, except for its angles – lay cradled by the bashed-in side of a dumpster; a gory, inverted waterfall of crimson splattered up the wall behind it. The head lolled against its uneven chest, barely held on by naked tendons and raw flesh, and the jaw had been torn clear away.
The second body was more… dispersed.
Yet even that wasn’t the strangest part. Sure, it looked like somebody had tried to pressure-wash the walls with arterial spray, but what really drew the eye were the weird, congealed blobs of black-scarlet scattered for a storey up the walls. They looked like something out of a particularly nasty fungus documentary: glistening and swollen with half-solid bubbles of wet scab. There were a lot of them, too.
Je-sus. It had been one of the bike-lads that called this in, and Joplin made a mental note to check in on the kid later. Hell of a thing for someone to walk in on.
Of course, some of them were more used to this kind of shit than others.
“Bad night,” he said, partly in greeting, as his attention shifted to the other upright figure on the scene: clad in baggy forensics white, squatting down over a scattering of viscera with a camera in her gloved hands. She took the picture and made a note before straightening up and turning to him. One neat eyebrow arched as she pulled her mask down, revealing pale lips set into a tight line.
“Worse for some,” Dawn replied, sweeping a disapproving gesture around at the alley. “Honestly. I have fourteen active cases right now; the last thing I need is someone breaching like a Screamfest wet dream all over my Thursday night.”
Joplin hesitated – but this was Dawn, after all. Dawn Miller: Senior Forensic Investigator for the City of Las Vegas (Above and Below), five foot three of permanently-caffeinated brunette; most usually found within a baffling subterranean lair of sterile worktops and extremely expensive scientific equipment that just so happened to have no external windows whatsoever.
“Definitely not just someone with delusions of Dahmer?” he asked carefully. Dawn sighed as she placed her camera back down then pulled out a small laser pointer, with a hint of dramatic flourish. The tiny red light danced like a forensic firefly across the stained walls, sketching and circling in after-images.
“It’d be very difficult to get this sort of pattern any other way. Now, tearing open an artery will do that.” She gestured towards the crimson mark that was a bit higher than the dumpster-corpse’s head would have been. Then she jabbed a latex-cased finger further up, towards one of the dripping clots wedged against a drainpipe.
"That? Not so much. I mean, I’ve got my suspicions about your blood pressure, Sheriff, but I figure even you’d have difficulty getting that far up on irritation alone.”
Joplin looked back down to the neatly-circled sections of corpse, tilting his head this way and that as he tried to work out what each bit had been.
���Any clear weapons?”
“Not lying around.” Dawn pointed at a piece of arm. “I need to get this all cleaned up to be sure of anything.”
“Thinking teeth or claws?” Joplin pushed, and recieved a cold stare in return.
“All I’ll say before he’s on the slab is that it took significant force to do some of this. Arms don’t pop off Barbie-style for just anyone – present company notwithstanding.”
Joplin snorted.
“I ain’t a wookie, y’know.”
Finally, a flash of amusement made it onto Dawn’s face. It was probably possible to be a science type without being able to spot a Star Wars reference at forty feet, but Joplin sure hadn’t met many. Hell, she’d probably seen them on release.
“Yub-nub, Sheriff. Anyway,” she continued, and her brows dipped again as she pulled a fresh swab out of her pocket. “I’ve put this off for long enough.”
She uncapped the plastic tube and Joplin caught The change in her eyes. It wasn’t in anything so crass as pigment or reflection, but nonetheless the sheen there had altered, struck through now with very familiar sharpness. She undid her mask, placing it carefully down on top of her kit, and moved over to the bloody wall with the swab raised.
When he’d first heard they had a vampire in forensics, Joplin had imagined she would employ a much more gruesome methodology. He hadn’t figured that maybe she’d want to lick an alleyway wall about as much as he did.
Dawn swiped the blood, then brought it back and pressed the stained cotton tip into the roof of her mouth, accompanied by an expression of contemplative disgust. It had to go past the teeth, she’d told him once. Something about how the whole vitae situation actually worked.
After a moment she withdrew the swab, slotted it into her clinical waste pot, and spat in after it.
“Yup, that was live when it hit. Initial attack either non-feeding, or the idiot’s never tried to drink a shaken soda. But that…” she trailed off, looking up at the weird blobs overhead, and her lips twisted again. “Give me a leg up, will you Sheriff?”
Joplin obliged, cupping his big hands together into a platform, and Dawn hoisted herself up onto a level with one of the congealed lumps. Swab – suck – and this time she gagged, clapping the back of her hand over her mouth as she did so. Joplin quickly put her down. She threw the swab away like it had burned and began aggressively gargling bottled water. Once the dry heaves had stopped she looked back up at him, wiping at her eyes.
“Yuck. I mean, yes, obviously, but – yuck. No, that was dead on impact. I’d say refractory emesis, but that’s – ” she hesitated again, glancing between each blob “- a lot. Even if they were trying to dry them out, just eyeballing it, I’d say there’s enough blood mass here for a minimum of two victims. And this guy might be a jigsaw, but I’d say we’ve got all the bits for him.”
Joplin sighed, and leaned back against a cleanish piece of wall. So there might be another body to find tonight. Which meant someone on a frenzy, because nobody needed two-and-a-post-spray-remainer’s worth of blood in one night for any sort of legal reason. And someone with their faculties intact wouldn’t be out massacring by the bins.
Dawn pulled out her second kit: the much smaller, black metal box that had neither insignia or visible method of opening, and blew gently on its surface. Faint patterns swirled under her breath before the lid popped and she drew out a different set of vials, and a set of small, oddly-shaped tools.
“Taking the specialist samples,” she muttered, half to herself as she selected one and crouched back over the remains. “Because of course, developing anything field ready that isn’t ‘suck on the corpse’ is never at the top of the funding lists, is it?”
Joplin shrugged.
“Don’t ask me. I ain’t sure what any of you lab goblins do with half the stuff you collect; I ain’t gonna notice if you take a few more weird prints.”
“Liar.” She didn’t look up from whatever she was doing at the head end, but Joplin could hear a smile around her words. He let her get on with it, instead returning his attention to the utter mess of a scene. There was a time when this would have upset him a lot more – and he knew this sort of thing tended to get to Mitch in ways the cheery lad was crap at dealing with – but this wasn’t just the normal revulsion and muted horror that settled on him now. Something about the sheer splatter of the scene was unpleasantly familiar.
He waited until Dawn had clicked the lid back on her little box of vampire tricks before he spoke again.
“Got a theory for me?”
“Always have a theory, Sheriff,” Dawn replied, stowing the box. “The trick is finding evidence.”
“So… if I were to say ‘Bel–’” Joplin started, but cut off as Dawn held up a finger warningly. The look she gave him was old; far, far older than the ever-stilled thirty-ish of her face.
“I’ve confirmed a potential breach. I’ve got samples. You’ve got another body to find, and I’ve got analysis to do. Then, and only then, will I stick my neck out over that block. Clear?”
“Y’always are,” Joplin conceded, and let out a long breath as he felt some of the sudden tension drop. “Want the rest of the crew in?”
“Oh hell yes. I’m not scraping this all up by myself.”
Joplin left her to it. He gave the nod as he passed the glamoured tape, signalling to the waiting figures that they could go in. Dawn had finished the secret-squirrel bit of her work, and the crew understood enough about trouble Below to know what they were dealing with. He made his way back to the car and slid in, resting his head back against the seat as he let out a long sigh.
Dawn was cagey – had to be, given who was not-breathing down her neck – but she’d said enough. Frenzy either meant an orphan, a bastard or a break, and none of them were exactly appealing prospects. Joplin drummed his fingers together, considering. Orphan was unlikely – the clan-pires were real careful these days about their new bloods, and the loony market was still depleted from last time someone tried something Big And Stupid. Bastard seemed most likely, since there was always some little fucker unable to keep it in their gums.
The idea of it being a break…
Joplin felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and tried to shake off the unease. Okay, so there had been a familiarity to the scene, but it wasn’t like a signature. Brutal, sure, but too messy. Too much feeding. Any feeding, really. But the way the bodies had been torn apart like that – that, that was setting off unpleasant shivers of recognition.
Not a break, then. Not that particular potential nightmare and the shattering Breach it would entail, but… something related?
Bastard’s the most likely. Jesus-Christmas; can he even sire anymore?
Joplin stared out through the windshield, at the distant fever-dream glitter of Vegas’ early morning, and felt the ghost of a few old wounds twinge.
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
He was going to have to question fucking Belton.
-
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Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)
: !!: Author's notes ◌ °: !!:
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎
Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “
If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.
As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *
I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “
That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *
The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹
If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °
Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *
· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·
Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)
CENSOR:
Not for fragile hearts.
CONTAINS
(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.
GENRE:
Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance
˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *
1 Chara is a boy;
2 Has original characters.
˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *
1 slight violence;
2 Citation to depression;
3 drama.
Attention:
Big chapter ahead.
﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍���﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍
A year has passed…
No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)
We.
I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life.
Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him.
Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:
"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"
Heh. People can be cruel.
We were four.
He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old.
The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted.
Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity.
He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him…
That was two years ago.
I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted.
Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape.
He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo.
Affectionate surname.
We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye.
Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...
It was like magic.
The search began in a human pursuit.
All in vain.
Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.)
The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised.
Escape, death. I thought of all this.
But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate.
All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work.
It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes.
To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'.
All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security.
Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me.
Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off.
No strolling around, (Y/N).
* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.
A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself.
This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation.
Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:
* But no one will come ...
I got.
Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it.
With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance.
I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence.
I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom.
A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned.
At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….
Ah…
I looked into the mirror.
* After all, it's still you.
Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks.
A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully.
This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.
" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face.
" I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.
It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)
I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later.
Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out.
A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.
So ... so ... perfect.
Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment.
Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything.
A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games.
I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed.
Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner.
Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last.
Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.
A bang ... Coming from the room.
Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door.
My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon.
That stick was from Luka ...
More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins.
This was strangely familiar.
I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.
* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.
I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased.
All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception.
I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago.
The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party.
The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall:
- You know where to find me. -
My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.
"... All right, all right. "
I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving.
I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door.
I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things.
Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing.
I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait.
Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this.
I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.
* You are full of justice.
It was night when I started to cross the forest.
The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back.
Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared.
I needed to continue.
It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all.
Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting.
I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.
* You need to move on.
Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding.
As expected, climbing was not an easy task.
The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks.
My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything.
I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away.
Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.
- It is not bad. -
With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get.
My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh.
" Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.
" What you want? " I growled.
He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin.
" Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.
* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.
" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "
With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness.
A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground.
I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty.
Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw.
It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin.
Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time.
Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose.
It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him.
He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core.
Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion.
One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility.
No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.
" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. "
He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
" Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave.
" Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed.
It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel.
Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole.
Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him.
I was completely defenseless.
There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red.
"Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -"
And a kick threw me in my death.
Soon, only darkness painted my world.
*It's the end.
· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes
My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator.
If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it.
(Y/N) - your name
(h/c) - hair color
(s/c) - skin color
More legends will be added in the future!
Word Count:
About 2,880
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#undertale#underswap#undertale au#reader#fanfic#neutral route#chara dreemurr#mages#magic#underswap x reader#swap papyrus x reader#swap papyrus
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I have a Rick and Morty crossover theory about the Joker’s past, because why wouldn’t I?
So what exactly WAS in the toxic chemicals that the man who became the Joker fell into? What, exactly, makes up the fluid in Rick Sanchez’s portal gun? What if somebody who worked at Axis Chemicals -- possibly a Rick? -- stumbled upon the recipe for interdimensional travel goo, and it somehow ended up in that vat?
What would it be like to fall into interdimensional chemicals? Absolutely submerged, like the Joker was?
Well, here’s my theory: all at once, you’d experience every timeline that led to your submersion into said chemicals. You’d remember everything about being a sadistic career criminal that leads the Red Hood gang. You’d remember everything about being a naive former engineer and failed comedian, manipulated into playing the fall guy during the heist, all while numb with grief from losing your pregnant wife. You’d live every single permutation of what brought you to Batman, to the chemicals.
Then you crawl out, disoriented and confused by every life you just lived, and look at your reflection in the water. You see this:
Kind of understandable that the mind would snap, you’d forget which timeline is yours, and you’d come up with an entirely different, maniacal identity. Bits and pieces make their way into every version of the Joker: the Joker from the sadistic gangster timeline (TAS,’89 Burton film) has the engineer’s lab knowledge to create Smilex and Laughing Gas; meanwhile, the engineer-comedian (Killing Joke/Hush series version, who I’ll refer to as “KJ Joker”) inherits the sadism and criminal connections from his gangster counterpart ( “TAS Joker”).
In fact, I’d argue the KJ Joker is ironically more disturbed and sadistic than TAS Joker, because he is in fact living in the Killing Joke universe where his wife’s death is so near to him. This raw grief combined with these new memories of being a powerful and violent criminal create something monstrous enough to do what he did to the Gordons.
It’s difficult to say what made TAS Joker evil from the beginning, and not KJ. I suppose you could say Nurture over Nature wins in this case: maybe TAS Joker’s father or mother suffered a head injury that made them violent and abusive, and maybe in the Killing Joke timeline there was never an injury and they treated little Jack just fine. Or maybe TAS Joker received the head injury as a child.
I mean, personally, I believe in both Nature and Nurture. I think someone with a naturally disturbed disposition can learn to control themselves if they have a healthy background and if they really want to be a better person -- but that means they have to have some goodness in them, because Dennis Rader had a healthy upbringing, and still was a demon from the start. Conversely, someone who is naturally level-headed and good can go through horrifying ordeals and emerge with their morality intact.
I remember watching a documentary about this researcher who discovered he was a distant descendant of Lizzie Borden’s family. He spoke to his family and co-workers, and was a bit nonplussed to find they...weren’t that surprised. “Oh, yeah. Well...you do seem a little emotionally detached at times. A little short on empathy.” Yet they still loved and respected him. Why? Well, he’d had a very happy, loving upbringing and was able to marry and have a happy family life grown up, as well.
He very freely admits he might have gone down a much darker path if he didn’t have that background growing up.
So that’s basically my conception of the KJ Joker. A maybe not totally good man who is able to function in society because he grew up in a normal family and met a wonderful woman who became his soulmate.
Yet when that’s taken away very violently and suddenly, and he suddenly sees all the darker versions of himself that led to his transformation into a demon clown? Well, we see what happens. It probably wouldn’t have happened to Bruce Wayne or Jim Gordon, because at their core, they’re better people than the Joker in any timeline.
Which brings me to the character of Jeannie, and the possibility for some great fanfic au’s I might write someday.
What if in the gangster timeline, she’s alive? She never met him before his transformation, because he was hard and evil from the start, and she was off doing her Jeannie thing elsewhere.
Yet just as KJ remembers all the life experiences of TAS Joker, so TAS Joker remembers the happy marriage that ended tragically for the engineer-comedian. TAS Joker isn’t as close to that past, but it’s definitely part of the rotation of Multiple Choice Pasts he remembers occasionally. He probably thinks he’s making her up: there are numerous references throughout TAS and Burton’s movie that he’s usually aware he has mob connections, and there was no way he had a wife stashed away somewhere or that he was doing standup comedy on the side.
So what happens if he runs into Jeannie in this timeline?
Maybe she gets a job as custodian at Arkham. Maybe he runs into her while escaping Batman down Gotham streets. Just as there are countless timelines that led him to the chemicals, there are countless timelines after.
What does seeing Jeannie alive do to him in these various timelines?
We know KJ Joker reveres her memory, as we see him reaching out for her solemnly in Killing Joke after his first flashback, and in the Hush series we see him mournfully looking at her pictures. But would TAS Joker be this sentimental about her? After all, if KJ Joker inherited the unrestrained sadism of TAS Joker, would it make sense that TAS Joker inherit some of the sincere sentiment from the grieving widower?
Or would this new entity, the Joker, simply not care? Would he find her just another cosmic punchline? Would he hurt her, lash out at her? Try to destroy this living embodiment of his dead humanity?
You see, Jeannie in this timeline would have no clue why Joker would recognize her. She was never dunked in interdimensional chemicals, so all she knows is the timeline she’s currently in. She never met Jack Napier or the Joker before. She’s just an average lady with a slightly sick sense of humor and a good heart. Once upon a different timeline, this person infatuated a more well-balanced Jack Napier, but what would the Joker make of her now?
Anyway, this is the weird stuff that keeps me up at night. I’d love any thoughts.
#joker#batman#dc#the killing joke#batman: the animated series#batman 1989#jack napier#jeannie napier#jack x jeannie#joker x jeanne#rick and morty#aus#jeannie#my fan doodles#meta
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