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crownrots · 1 month

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— OCS AS HORROR THEMES/TROPES

tagged by @corvosattano & @simonxriley to do this uquiz, thank you 💗

tagging @queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @thedeadthree, @loriane-elmuerto, @shellibisshe, @arborstone, @unholymilf, @florbelles, @shadowglens, @nightbloodbix, @roofgeese, @countessrooster, @lucky-107, @rhetoricalrogue, @arthrmorgann, @zevlor, @hartsvale, @jackiesarch, & @leviiackrman

FLOWERS ROTTING AS A METAPHOR FOR DEATH/DECAY

stems droop, go yellow like aged teeth. petals curl, go dry like paper, like corpse skin. the beauty of youth can only be preserved through unnatural means. roses drowned in silica gel, pins behind the eyes. glass vase, open casket. everyone is watching you. why aren't you moving? are you too weak to grow toward the light anymore?

MEAT AS HORROR.

meat hooks and conveyor belts and cold metal. the warm eyes of a stupid animal, completely unaware of the watering mouths that await it. "cut here" lines drawn on the body, slabs of steak that bleed and bleed, unrelenting. are you hungry? would you kill to stay alive? you feel like prey, or maybe like predator. sinew is stuck between your teeth, and gore dribbles down your chin. don't chip your teeth on the bones. you feel like the top of the food chain, and don't see the eyes gleaming behind you.

JUST CATHOLIC TRAUMA.

(tw for implications of self harm here) god is judgment. every action is weighted, every action is watched. tally marks on a scoreboard, on skin, your body on a golden scale, and you can't shed enough weight to stop it from tipping. worship isn't enough. sacrifice isn't enough. guilt lays across you in layers. blankets, sheets of snow, cling-wrap cutting off your circulation. you can't save yourself, but you can never stop trying. fire licks at your heels, a constant reminder of what is inevitably waiting for you.

MEAT AS HORROR.

FAMILY AS A CULT.

you will never need anyone else. outsiders will hurt you, aim to corrupt you and ruin you and leave you in pieces, but your family will always be there for you. everyone has the same eyes, the same smile. the same sickly yellow light cast over their skin. the same tastes, the same food that melts to gray sludge on your tongue. family recipe. hugs last too long, touches linger and sting like sunburn. don't stray too far. if you come back looking like a wolf rather than a sheep, the dogs will eat you.

THE HORROR OF THE MOTHER.

complete control over you, your complete reliance on her. you are a helpless child, and she makes every decision for you, asserting to you that she knows what's best. hysterical, emotional, even in her love for you, especially in her hatred for you. the fruit of her loins has rotted, and you cannot escape her scorn. distance means nothing if you're doomed to become her.

#t: uquiz #it's tcsmg sunday so <3 #c: sandra #c: garrison #c: slater #c: perry #c: vince #c: sosie

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mojowitchcraft · 9 months

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Your Hand In Mine

Fun prompt game based on this post

Wheeler’s Basement / They save each others lives / Carol Perkins is there

Steve breathes heavily, air burning in his lungs as they run for their lives—literally. There’s a fucking demogorgon following them through the woods, roaring in that screechy way they do, probably letting all its friends know where they are.

Carol trips over a branch and he yanks her up, and pushes her in front of him, after Eddie. The three of them got split up from the rest of the group and they need to find shelter now.

“Keep moving!” says Steve in a loud whisper, “We’re almost at the Wheelers, we can hide there… see if the walkie still works”.

“You got it, big boy,” Eddie calls over his shoulder, “Onwards!” He points with his spear—an improved version of the ones he and Dustin used to fight off the bats at the trailer park all those months ago. The night that Eddie almost died.

Steve hates that Eddie’s back here, in the Upside Down, that they’re still fighting for their lives when Eddie already nearly lost his. But now that Eddie found his courage there was no stopping him from joining them on yet another suicide mission.

Somehow, even in this life-or-death situation, Carol still finds the energy to be her sassy self. “Big boy?” she scoffs under her breath as she raises an eyebrow at Steve.

He shrugs, tries to fight the blush he feels rising to his cheeks, tries to rationalize that he feels hot from the whole running for their lives thing, rather than the alternative I think I might have a crush on my friend thing.

It should be comforting, that Carol’s still herself even after all this shit. After she and Tommy unwittingly got dragged into this mess for the simple crime of coming home for the summer to help with earthquake relief. Completely unaware of the horrors that awaited them here.

If Steve had still been friends with them at the time he’d have told them to stay far away. He’s not sure if they would have listened though, Tommy’s always been very protective of his little sister and his mom, and Carol tends to follow Tommy wherever he goes.

Tommy’s grown up a lot more than Steve expected after one year away at college. Or maybe it was the realization that monsters are real. Steve knows that helped him grow the fuck up quickly. Either way, some weird twist of fate landed them all here, in the Upside Down, together.

They break free of the trees, Eddie ahead of them running across the clearing shield held over his head. Steve hears the bats before he sees them, chittering and screeching as two of them dive down. One hits Eddie’s shield with a loud bang, shrieking as it’s caught by the large nails embedded in the metal.

“Eddie!” Steve calls out, running after him. He won’t let anything happen to Eddie, not this time.

Steve’s barely been able to let the guy out of his sight since he was released from the hospital a couple of months ago. He’s been wracked with guilt over leaving Eddie and Dustin to fend for themselves, and no matter how many times the rest of The Party tells him that it’s not his fault he can’t help but feel like he could have stopped it from happening.

He swings his nail bat, strong and sure, knocking one of the demobats down to the ground and wailing on it until it stops twitching. Eddie’s taken care of the other one that got caught in his shield while Carol aims her shotgun at the trees behind them, keeping watch.

They make a pretty proficient trio, surprisingly. Steve would laugh if he had the energy, and Carol seems to have the same thought as she grins manically at him and lowers her shotgun. Who’d have thought Carol Perkins and Steve Harrington would be fighting monsters with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson? Not their high school selves, that’s for damn sure.

“Let’s get inside,” Steve says, dropping his own smile and stepping forward, stomping on one of the demobat corpses with his heavy boots for good measure.

After they quickly check the house, Eddie throws himself down on a couch and grabs the walkie, trying to call the rest of the party and find out where they ended up. Carol sits next to him, wringing her fingers and biting her lip. Steve feels for her, knows she’s worried about Tommy.

He’s worried too, about all of their friends, but especially Robin. It’s not that she’s entirely inept, but she’s clumsy, and not a great runner. Steve just hopes that Robin managed to stay with Nancy, Jonathan, and Tommy. He figures that Tommy can handle himself, he was always proficient enough in a fight. Plus he knows that the rest of them work well as a team.

Steve excuses himself to take a leak, figures it’s better to take care of it during their brief downtime rather than hold it. He wonders if the toilets even flush here, once he’s finished he tries the handle just to check. No dice. Ah well, it was probably too much to hope that an alternate dimension would have indoor plumbing.

He’s walking back from the bathroom when he hears a noise coming from the stairs down to the basement. Steve raises his bat and opens his mouth to try to call for Eddie and Carol, but everything happens so fast.

The door to the basement bursts open, demogorgon screeching and clawing at him as he swings, catching it on the arm. It charges forward, forcing him back as he darts around the kitchen island, dodging the tips of its pointed fingers as they reach for him. He’s not really thinking, other than wanting to lead it away from his friends.

Steve runs down the basement stairs, not his smartest move. The monster is hot on his heels, and he crouches down as it leaps at him, sending it sailing forward into the old couch there. It slams into the wall before it turns and shrieks at him.

He plants his feet and raises his bat, heart pounding as he faces off with this hideous creature that’s probably about to tear him limb from limb. It charges at him, halted by a blast from a shotgun behind him. It staggers back after another blast from the shotgun, and a Molotov cocktail sails forward, hitting it on its head. There’s a burst of flame and Steve shields his eyes.

Inhuman screeches fill the Wheeler’s basement as the demogorgon claws at its own petaled head. It retreats out of the back door, and Steve assumes that’s where it came in. Carol rushes forward and shoves a chair in front of the door, looks out the windows to check the back door.

“Steve, what the fuck man, are you okay?” Eddie asks, and suddenly he’s in front of Steve. Holding him by the shoulders while his big brown eyes flick over Steve’s face and down his body, checking him for injuries.

“Y-yeah,” Steve responds hoarsely, “I’m fine”.

“Good,” Eddie says, punching him on the shoulder, “You idiot!”

“Ow!”

“I thought we had a group agreement, you know, the whole lecture you gave us? No sacrificing yourself for the good of the group? That means you too!” Eddie gives him a little shake, oddly intense as he moves his hands up from Steve’s shoulders to his face, brushing some hair out of the way.

Steve leans into the touch, brushing his cheek against Eddie’s palm. He doesn’t mean to. Maybe it’s the adrenaline or the fact that Eddie’s so close to him, and looking at him with so much concern that it’s making Steve’s heart pound. But the movement makes Eddie suck in a breath, his eyes dropping to Steve’s lips and that’s all the indication that Steve needs.

“Fuck it,” he says, mostly to himself, as he leans forward and captures Eddie’s lips with his.

Just a quick press, nothing monumental, but it makes his stomach swoop all the same. Makes him realize he’s wanted to do that for a long time, longer than he’s ready to admit to himself in this moment.

When he pulls back, Eddie looks shocked. He’s still standing close, one hand on Steve’s face, the other in his hair, but Steve can’t decipher his expression. They stand there for a moment, staring at each other, and just as Steve’s about to step back, apologize for misreading things, Eddie pulls him forward and kisses him again, open-mouthed and wet. Enthusiastic and a little sloppy. It makes Steve laugh, his chuckle lost into the cavern of Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Steve’s mouth, his breath is far from minty but it still makes Steve groan. He grabs at Eddie’s jacket, pulling him in closer and kissing him fully, completely forgetting where they are and what just happened for a moment.

That is until Carol clears her throat. “Uh, not that I’m not thrilled for you two, but maybe this could wait until we’re not in Nancy Wheeler’s basement with monsters trying to kill us lurking right outside?”

Steve and Eddie spring apart. Eddie grins, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Sorry Perkie, The King kissed me and I guess I got a bit carried away, surely you understand.”

Carol rolls her eyes, “Munson, I told you to quit it with that nickname. I’ll let it slide this time, but next time I’m aiming my gun at your balls”.

Eddie quickly cups his aforementioned bits and does a goofy bow, “Yes, m’lady”.

Steve stares between them, an incredulous laugh bursting out of his throat before he gathers himself. He stares hard at Carol, “You don’t have a problem with this? Us?” he gestures to himself and Eddie.

“Us?” asks Eddie quietly surprised, Steve’ll fill him in later.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes again, “Honestly Steve, you really need to get out of Hawkins. I don’t care, and neither will Tommy”. She adds on the last bit in a sweeter, more reassuring tone.

Steve nods, “Thanks.”

The three of them shove the couch and table in front of the door for good measure before they head back upstairs to their discarded packs, Carol rushes up the stairs when they hear Tommy’s voice calling for her over the walkie.

“Us?” Eddie asks again in a lower tone as they shove more furniture in front of the basement door.

“Yeah… us,” Steve says slowly, “You and me… you want that right?”

He has to hold back a smile when Eddie’s cheeks go bright pink.

“Yeah, yeah I want that,” Eddie says shyly, pulling a lock of hair over his mouth to hide his own smile.

“Well c’mon then,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s free hand and pulling him towards the living room. “Let’s save the world, survive, and we’ll figure out the rest later.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Eddie replies with a chuckle. His hand is big, rings digging into Steve’s knuckles when he gives his hand a squeeze.

Not for the first time Steve’s struck by how pretty Eddie is, even with the layer of Upside Down grime coating his face. It helps that he’s looking at Steve with a smirk, doe eyes big and sweet as they rove over Steve’s face, darting down to his lips like he wants nothing more than to drag Steve back into the basement and kiss him again.

Steve knows what he’s about to say is stupidly cheesy, but he can’t help it, not when Eddie is looking at him like that.

“Anything sounds easy with your hand in mine.”

Cross posted on Ao3

#steddie #steddie prompt #first kiss prompt game #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic rec #mojowitchcraft wips #stranger things

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sealacrossthesea · 26 days

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ocs as horror tropes/metaphors

i was tagged by @gwynbleidd and it took me. a while. to get to it. sorry, but thanks for the tag!

i don't have ocs except ocs for a thing i'm trying to work on (every ant is a titan, i talk about it sometimes), and i don't actually have any visual references for said characters because i know nothing about editing images to make them look cool, and i don't like how i draw :') so i'll just write their names, zero context, and zero clue to their appearance :')

oh, here goes:

Morgan:

meat as horror

Adam:

the horror of the mother

Joseph:

heaven as oblivion

there is absolutely nothing for you now. you are dead but not gone, you've passed on to the next realm and hit an infinitely extending wall. your fingers dissolve before your eyes, your eyes melt out of your head, your head does not exist. you are not present anywhere, and you cannot hear anything. you've dodged hell, but at what cost? this is all there is now.

Adelaide:

family as a cult

Giovanni:

just catholic trauma

Newton:

meat as horror

okay, that's it for the ants team, and these are surprisingly accurate! again, thanks a lot for the tag! idk who to tag in return, so i guess anyone who wants to do this is free to say they were tagged by me.

#rho.odt #every ant is a titan #oc: morgan #oc: adam #oc: joseph #oc: newt #oc: adela #oc: giovanni #i liked doing this. idk why i've been putting it off so long :')#i know mento ewness etc but. yeah.#thanks again!

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akariamai · 9 months

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Chapter 1: Library

Crossover between the Hunger Games and The Promised Neverland

Word Count: 1372

Prologue

Consuming the nightlock berries should have swiftly taken her from the living, released her body from the arena and lifted by the crane of a hovercraft. Instead of being granted the sweet release of death, Marissa, a name she deeply cared for, was given another chance at life. One that appeared to be far worse than the monstrosities she’d been forced to face.

The first life she lived, the one with the name Marissa, ended in tragedy. Her name, now part of the collection of unfortunate souls to be called on reaping day, was chosen for the 74th Hunger Games. The games were a dark cloud, its presence looming over the people in the districts. It only inspired fear for the children and bred hopelessness. Marissa had grown up to see parents keep their children at arm’s length. Only rejoicing when they aged out of the reaping.

She had been lucky. Her parents, despite their fears, cared for her as if the danger did not exist. Their reality shattering every year yet persisting when another name was called. One more year. She just needed to survive one more year but life threw a curve ball to her life. It did not matter how hard her parents wished every night for their daughter to be untouched by the Capital, to escape unscathed by the horrors of the games. Their wishes to a high power were not enough to save her.

Her name and fate intertwined with death itself as soon as her name was spoken for all of District 5 to hear. She remembered the cries of her parents, so clearly, as she was escorted onto the stage. How her eyes found her parents devastated, mourning for their daughter despite her standing despite her standing before them, clinging onto one another. Using each other as a lifeline. It was tragic. Another child to carry on another senseless death.

This new life seemed perfect. It masqueraded itself to be a well-funded orphanage. A cookie-cutter life for the naive human children, who unknowingly awaited their death sentence, all in hopes of being adopted to a kind family. The reality is much darker. A farm packaged into a beautifully perfect lie, provides a life with empty smiles and so-called love. The very foundation of the house is a fabrication. It is filled with deception. It was a prison. They were birds trapped in a golden cage. Never to fly free from the bars; never to see the world beyond the gates.

Finch laid on the bed awake, waiting for the clock to strike, and the day to begin. She was four years old and burdened with the knowledge of their supposed home. She needed a plan but with her scrawny and petite arms, she could do nothing but wait till she grew. She hoped to survive long enough to grow. She still had time left but when would her time come? She noticed the children who were six or older were shipped out randomly or it appeared to be that way. She needed more information.

“Weik up, Finsch!” A high pitched voice called out, snapping her out of her thoughts, “Weik up!”

Finch turned to the person, who was already changed out of their pajamas, and glared at them. “I’m up.” Her reply was unwelcoming. Emma was an irritatingly joyful child, carefree in every way possible. Unaware of the true horrors behind the house she called a home.

“Yay!” She excitedly cheered. Her smile, at one period of time, would’ve comforted Finch but she found herself unable to be at ease.

Finch hurriedly changed into her uniform and walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Emma followed closely behind her as they waited for the older children to help the young ones with their hygiene.

“Do you wanna play with me, Nor-man and Wray?”

“No.” Finch had more important things to do. This world seemed to represent fragments of her past life but demons like the ones she saw when she was a baby were completely new. Research needed to be done. She would need to make her way into the library after breakfast.

“Please!” She whined.

“No.”

“Pretty please!” Her whining did not stop. In fact, it only got worse.

“Hello Emma, Finch. What’s going on?” The hoax concern in Isabella’s voice was appalling. If she did not know everything was fake, she would’ve believed her lies. She pretended to care for them. She prepared them for the slaughter with a smile.

“I wanna play with Finch!” Emma waved her arms dramatically, lightly stomping her feet in retaliation but not enough to make too much noise. “But she doesn’t want to play.”

Isabella gently patted Emma’s bright hair and slightly bent over to look down at Finch. “Why don’t you want to play Finch?”

“I want to wread.” It turns out the games were good for one thing. She learned to pretend. This world just needed more of it.

“Really,” She cupped Finch’s face with her hands, “Aren’t you a clever one.” The smile grew upon her face. Finch’s stomach dropped at how unnerving it was. It almost felt real. “Brush your teeth and come down to eat breakfast okay.” Once Isabella was out of sight, Finch felt as if she could truly breathe again. An unseen weight lifted from her shoulders. She was as safe as she could be.

The two girls brushed their teeth with several of their siblings. While they were not siblings by blood, many saw one another as family. Finch was not one of those people. She could not bear to become attached to anyone and lose them. The world was cruel and her heart would not survive another attack. She already lost a family.

Breakfast was swift. The older children helped clean up the dishes and the younger ones hung around Isabella. Finch watched for a brief moment before making her way to the library. Hardly any one of the younger children spent time in the library and as the older children were finishing their morning chores before heading to take their exams, she would have the room to herself. Quiet and safe.

The door to the library creaked as Finch walked inside. It was finally time to look for any helpful information about her situation. She would need to read between the lines as books about demons and farms probably wouldn’t be kept in the house. To keep up appearances, nothing in the pages of the books should outright explain the situation.

First, she searched through a geology book. The world could look different than her first life, Finch needed to be sure. Then, gather a rough estimate on which hemisphere the farm was located in. A stick and the sun should be enough, she just needed to find an excuse on her reasoning. The other kids might get curious. Next, she would work on her survival skills. The games granted her some experience but she relied on the other tributes to not notice her stealing food off of their plates. It worked for a little while until the end neared and the rules changed.

“What are you wreading?” Ray, another four year old, curiously approached Finch. He took a peek at the book she had opened. A map of the world.

Finch pointed at the map and merely said, “Pictures.” Ray was almost as antisocial as she was. He hung out a lot with Emma and Norman but he could be found occasionally at the library. She hoped he would’ve been stuck playing with Emma, but there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She turned to another page and looked at a closer image of one of the land masses from the previous page. One part looked like a sort of boot. Finch remembered seeing a map like this in an old poster, faded and crinkled, in one of District 5’s schoolrooms.

She flipped to another page, hoping Ray would turn his attention elsewhere. She wanted to survive and live. For the girl who’s name was chosen at the reaping and sent to the games. For the girl who never had the chance to grow up. For the girl who wanted to live.

Masterlist

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kudzucataclysm · 9 months

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🍀🧠for the asks :0

yaaaaaaaay!! main 4 again :3

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

for both Dez and Frank…i don’t exactly remember. they both kind of came into existence at the same time together a few years ago :0 they were already fully formed, but their personalities have developed like fucking CRAZY since then

Maya is actually one of my oldest characters!! she’s originally from my first ever “story” of sorts, that also had Sal and Jack in it as well. i remember her being specifically inspired by this one character in this manga/comic called “Nightschool” who was like. the head queen bee of the witch faction at the school jdhdhdhfhfhf like she was so ridiculously powerful at her age and was cool as a cucumber and smart as fuck and i loved her character tbh. wish there’d been more of her #BlackExcellence

Carmine was also someone else who more or less came into being as he is, except the helmet. he was actually supposed to have a fleshy, exposed skull instead, and i think that bit of him was inspired by Red Death from the Venture Bros show- that villain who preferred the old fashioned way of getting shit done and being a complete maniac but ultimately a good family guy and friend

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

for Desmond: just look at him. look at that baby angel face. he’s unaware of the horrors that await him and yet he’s gonna take it like a champ (NOT). he’s gonna take those punches, he’s gonna keep getting pushed down until finally he SNAPS, and he’s like “fuck it, i’m not taking this shit anymore!!” and he busts out of the spiral of hell he’s accidentally fallen into in order to make it on his own (+Francis) and to show everyone who’s wronged him the full force of the indomitable human will in order to save a world that he loves

for Francis: just her bastard asshole personality. the way she’s molded that personality out of fear of rejection and being hurt. strike first before they get you. she’s an absolute fucking mess and a downright horrible child who knows nothing but violence until Dez shows up. like by god she sucks, but holy shit she eventually tries. she tries and fucks it up so many times but at the end of the day she’s put that effort in to at least be better than she was the day before, and that she’s FINALLY got someone in her corner to help her find her way

for Maya: her sheer fucking arrogance. her hypocrisy. her weird as fuck god complex and the way she just straight up doesn’t give a fuck about almost anything. who has become something she hates, something that goes against the betterment of humanity. who eventually gets smacked in the face with reality, and is forced for once in her life to take shit seriously but in the same vein doesn’t lose that cockiness cuz goddammit it’s up to her to fix this mess and in her mind she’s the only one capable of doing it, even at her own expense which is the first time she’s not making a selfish decision

for Carmine: i like him cuz he’s trying to, in a way, convince himself that he’s normal but he’s not. he’s a manipulative asshole who’s obsessed with control through power, to the point where his paranoia has him convinced that a fucking child is gonna be the end of everything he’s worked for. and despite all his issues he does his ‘best’ to reconnect with family that he was forcefully separated from only to fall back into old habits and ways that undermine his own relationship with them….he falls AGAIN. his world burns AGAIN. and only time can tell if this is something he’s willing to fight for this time

#kudzu responds #shattered earth #oc talk #ty for the q!!

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norhimorovine · 2 years

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9/14 - Attrition

“I have no right to impose on you further. Nevertheless, I must ask one thing of you. That you survive this, no matter what.” - “I once told you that there are things we can ill afford to lose. 'Things' I said, though in truth I spoke of a person. One who is unaware of the full extent of my plans. Though she deserves to know, I have good reason to keep my counsel. I have come to terms with this in my mind, yet my heart years to lay everything bare. For she is my inspiration, and I would give much and more for the chance to speak with her as friends, with no thought of concealment.”

The journey through the Vault had been arduous. The fight with Charibert even more so. But they’d triumphed and chased the Heaven’s Ward through the back gates onto the airship landing. Estinien and Lucia join Norhi, Haurchefant, and Alphinaud, bringing Aymeric with them.

Aymeric clings to Estinien, but steps forward to call out in desparation,"Why must you do this, Father!? Nidhogg is fallen! There is no need for further deception! Nowis the time to renounce the lies which led us down this path - to start anew!"

Archbishop Thordan VII doesn’t even turn to look at the son he’d sired, only responding in derision, "And tear down the very pillars of our society - our history, our values - everything we have built over a thousand years? A fool to the last."

Norhi and Haurchefant exchange a determined look before darting around their injured friend. They dashed forward to catch the ship before it left. But a motion just out of the corner of his eye, catches Haurchefant’s attention. Seeing the transformed Zephirin perched on the roof above, Haurchefant spots the aetheric lance being thrown from his hand. He launched himself between the magic and Norhi, throwing his shield up in defiance. "Look out!"

Norhi skidded to a stop, turning to watch in horror as Haurchefant struggled with the blinding, fearsome light. Until it won and pierced through his shield and then him. She watched the blood spray from him and a scream of denial ripped from Norhi’s lungs.

Behind her, the archbishop didn’t even react. "Go. Azys Lla awaits."

Ser Aymeric calls out in shock, as everyone else rushes forward to their fallen friend’s side. "Lord Haurchefant!"

As the airship left, Alphinaud slid to his knees by Haurchefant’s side, casting healing magic over the wound. The blue aetheric glimmer refused to fade. And Alphinaud soon shook his head. "It's no good… The wound is too deep. It refuses to mend…"

Norhi shook her head in staunch denial and pressed in next to Alphinaud, sharing the space rather than dislodging him. She threw her own white magic into Haurchefant’s body, pulling deeply on her own aether reserves.

When the wound refused to heal, she faltered. As Aymeric lifted his friend, Haurchefant’s eyes opened. He then smiled. "You… you are unharmed? F-Forgive me… I could not bear the thought of… of…"

When he reached for her, Norhi took his hand in her own. Hot tears streaked down her cheeks and Haurchefant just smiled again. "Oh, do not look at me so. A smile better suits a hero…"

Norhi hiccuped once and then pulled together a weak, fragile smile. Once he’d seen that, Haurchefant’s eyes closed and the last of his life slipped from him.

---

The last weeks had been a flurry of activity, since the defeat of the Lightwarden at Malikah’s Well. They’d liberated Eulmore, learned that Vauthry was the final Lightwarden, watched him flee to Mt. Gulg, gathered allies from all across Norvrandt, and built the biggest golem in history, which had promptly been used to create a bridge to the floating mountain. They defeated Vauthry turned Innocence. And Norhi absorbed the Light. She watched in delight as the sky turned that beautiful dark blue-black, filled with glimmering stars. But then the pain was back. The wracking, nauseating, pulses of Light aether, threatening to overwhelm her completely. But this time it didn’t fade completely. It knocked her to her knees and she wrestled for her breath, for her strength.

She could hear her friends calling out in alarm.

Y’shtola turned to Urianger, demanding answers as before, "Twelve forfend, she cannot contain the Light. She's beginning to turn! Urianger! If you've aught up your sleeve, now is the time!"

And that was when they noticed the sky, as Ryne cried out, "It's changing back!”

But then, there came the Exarch, slowly approaching with his staff. "The combined power of every Lightwarden is too terrible a burden for any one soul to bear. And so I shall relieve you of it."

He summoned a magic circle around himself and Norhi, separating her from her friends. Alisaie tried to dart forward, "Exarch!? What are you doing!?"

Everyone drew their weapons, thinking to fight. Everyone but Urianger, who threw his hand out between them. The Exarch kept his gaze on Norhi, giving what felt to her ears like the oddest of villainous monologues, "I will channel this profusion of power to the Crystal Tower and use it to travel to other worlds. As I have dreamed of doing ever since I first learned of their existence! Who would choose to remain here, in this dying realm, when they might go elsewhere and begin anew? Not I. And thus… thus did I use you!"

Ryne shook her head in denial, refusing this story, "No… No, I don't believe you! It doesn't make sense!”

Alisaie, however, was far more ready for violence. "Damn you! We won't let you do with her as you please!"

But Urianger’s voice cut through their confusion, "Please! I beseech you all! Let him go!"

Y’shtola paused then, eyeing her friend and then the Exarch. She straightened up and put away her staff. "You knew of this, Urianger. 'Tis all a fiction. Such vaguely defined acts of teleportation stand no chance of success. The Exarch will never live to see another world - as he knows only too well."

Alphinaud turned to her in confusion, "Then… what does he mean to do?"

Y’shtola turned back to the scene in front of them, "He means to take the Light with him into the rift… where he will die. From the beginning, he intended to sacrifice himself to save our friend and Norvrandt."

The Crystal Exarch seemed to almost sigh, as his plot was revealed. "At journey's end, an opportunistic thief makes off with the hero's prize. A paltry way to end a chapter, I concede. Yet your tale will continue, and my role in it will scarcely be remembered."

Norhi reached for him. The hero’s prize. She knew those words. The hints and the familiarity, all this time. It had to be him. And she desperately needed to shake him for not confiding her.

But he sadly smiled and shook his head, saying, "Worry not. Whatever should become of me, I will be happy and free, safe in the knowledge that I have played my part."

He pushed more into his spell, trying to take the Light from Norhi. And the aetheric wind kicked up, blowing his hood from him, revealing red hair partly faded white. And all too familiar eyes of royal Allagan red. Norhi lifted herself more to her knees, calling out, "G'raha Tia!"

His shock at hearing his own name, after so long, rocked through him. And he turned tear filled eyes to Norhi, answering, "Thank you for fighting for this world. For believing. Fare you well, my friend - my inspiration.”

A gunshot rang out, echoing through the space.

Norhi’s eyes widened with horror, as the Exarch gasped in pain. He stumbled foward and lost his spell, before falling unconscious to the floor. And there, behind him with the gun held aloft, was none other than Emet-Selch.

Norhi could barely understand the monologuing and exchange of retorts between the Ascian and her friends. Her eyes refused to leave G’raha’s prone body. She had not come so far to save her friends, to save this world, just to leave one more friend behind. If only she could move!

But then Emet-Selch snaps those damned fingers of his, teleporting her lost friend away. He began to lift from the ground, finally grousing to Norhi directly, "I pity you, I do. Your friends are now your foes. If you do not kill them, they will kill you. When it all becomes too much to bear, seek me out at my abode, in the dark depths of the Tempest. There, you may complete your descent into madness with some dignity, far from prying eyes. Till then, I bid you farewell… eater."

And finally, Norhi lost the will to stay conscious.

#ffxivwrite 2022 #ffxivwrite2022 #norhi morovine

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simplylove101 · 2 years

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2022 Horror Challenge: [30/?]

↳ “Greater delights await. We wish to see you proceed.” Hellraiser (2022) dir. David Bruckner

Plot: A take on Clive Barker's 1987 horror classic where a young woman struggling with addiction comes into possession of an ancient puzzle box, unaware that its purpose is to summon the Cenobites.

Starring: Odessa A'zion, Jamie Clayton, Brandon Flynn, Goran Višnjić, Drew Starkey, Adam Faison, Aoife Hinds, Selina Lo & Hiam Abbass

Well, I checked this out. As someone who went in not necessarily having the strongest fondness for the original (mostly because it’s been a bit since the last time I watched it. That said, Doug Bradley remains iconic as Pinhead), I didn’t know what to expect. It’s essentially a reboot that didn’t need to be made but I do think it was made with good intentions. It’s retreading familiar territory w/ the Cenobites but in a very different way. It doesn’t always work but there are some moments where it didn’t hold back with the goriness. It’s hard to care for the characters as much as you’d like but the acting from everybody was good imo, especially Odessa A’zion as the lead. I feel like Jamie did the best she could with what she was given to make her Pinhead her own. The aesthetic of the movie was pretty eerie throughout so there’s that. Overall, I wasn’t completely invested but as far as reboots, I’d say it was decent enough.

#hellraiser 2022 #horrorchallenge2022

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anotherinkling · 2 years

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The Real Demogorgon: Stranger Things and Childhood Trauma

It would be a mistake to say that the Netflix hit Stranger Things is simply another acclaimed hit of the horror genre. Though it exhibits some of the classic tropes popularised by the likes of terror titans Steven Spielberg and John Carpenter such comparisons always undersell the essence of what’s truly strange in Stranger Things. The real monster of the show isn’t really the haunting Demogorgon or the all-seeing Mind Flayer, but the trauma that our child heroes experience across the full span of the show’s four seasons.

Childhood trauma really does lie at the heart of season four and is best exemplified in the character of Max Mayfield (Sadie Sink), who continues to bear the psychological wounds of both her brother Billy’s death and her mother’s alcoholism. It is for that reason that the first episode immediately follows Max along the bustling school corridor. The scene is visually and aurally distinct. As her classmates live out their quiet child-like innocence through laughter and normality, Max is detached. Head buried, eyes to the ground, with Kate Bush’s song Running Up That Hill drowning out the noise. The residents of the fictional town of Hawkins, a tortured environment, are completely unaware of Max’s inner torture. Meanwhile, the school counsellor, Ms Kelley, awaits. Max’s final words to her, “I am being open”, clearly juxtapose with her very obvious resistance to those around her – especially her friends Lucas and Dustin.

Undoubtedly, the early portrayal of childhood trauma will be identifiable to many of the show’s large audience. Few authors and show writers are as informed on trauma as the Duffer brothers – the series’ producers. According to the brothers, two of the many inspirations of season four were horror royalties Stephen King and Wes Craven. King is responsible for the acclaimed hit IT, which also follows the stories of a number of children forever changed by the trauma inflicted on them by the supernatural clown entity known as Pennywise. Craven was the inventor of the unpleasant Freddy Krueger and his nightmarish dream world. The academic Roger Luckhurst has written that childhood trauma in King’s and Craven’s stories tends to feed into adulthood, which manifests in uncontrollable anger, resentment and mental illness.

It is easy to see the clear parallels between the traumatised Max in Stranger Things and King and Craven’s characters. Yet it’s the thoughtfulness of the Duffer brothers in their portrayal of childhood trauma that not only distinguishes the show from others, but also reveals that the prison of trauma can be escaped. While other show runners maddeningly portray their characters with extreme trauma instantly recovering as soon as they’re helped, Stranger Things realistically captures the painful and long road of recovery. As Gabor Mate writes, “the attempt to escape from our pain is what creates more pain.”

Toxic escapism is one of Max’s coping mechanisms in season four. In shielding herself from her grief and guilt over Billy’s death, she sadly pushes her friends away and refuses help from Ms Kelley. All of this culminates at Billy’s grave in episode four, where this season’s chief antagonist, Vecna, waits for her. In typical Stranger Things fashion, the showrunners pay homage to many of the cultural hallmarks of the late eighties. Vecna’s name is derived from a creature in D&D, which interestingly caused uproar for its assumed supernatural shadowiness across the US. There are moments like these in the show that, though terribly dark, are heavy reminders that we are viewers experiencing the trials of Hawkins through a child’s eyes. Though Vecna threatens Max’s life and the lives of her friends, the inference that he is characterised as a D&D character is a reminder that our heroes aren’t armour-clad warriors, but innocent children trying to make sense of pure horror. Trauma as a child is viewed with childlikeness. There is only so much that a child can make sense of, especially when painful ordeals are experienced.

Vecna is drawn to Max because of her pain. Other characters across the season – Chrissy Cunningham, Fred Benson and Patrick McKinney – are also prey because of their trauma, too. In a horrifying scene in episode four, Vecna manifests as the deceased Billy to extend Max’s guilt to breaking-point. Vecna claims that Max was “relieved to see your brother die.” The show hints that Max’s guilt is such that she wishes her place with Billy had been exchanged; that she had died and Billy had lived. This sentiment accompanies the lyric from Bush’s song, “I’d get Him (God) to swap our places”, and provides a whole new dimension to what victims of trauma feel. As Billy becomes the grotesque Vecna, darkness descends. Max’s worst fears are realised, which sees her running through a red-tinted plane of the Upside Down – a place familiar to viewers of the show. Vecna finds Max and overcomes her with a wave of tentacles. Unable to break free from her subjugation, Max experiences the frightening feeling of suffocation. Those who experience trauma as children often refer to moments of severe shortness of breath, as the world feels as though it’s collapsing on them.

Across the red expanse of the Upside Down, however, is a portal that opens and reveals her friends – Dustin, Lucas and Steve - seeking to bring Max back. In harmony with their screams bidding her to return to them is again the 1985 hit Running Up That Hill. Though friendship is really at the heart of Stranger Things, the show is clear that (to some degree) Max’s battle with Vecna must be carried out by herself; that there are some demons that can only be conquered alone. The scene climaxes with Max breaking from her physical and mental prison, running across the expanse of Vecna’s realm. She finds herself back in Lucas’ arms before muttering the painful yet all too real words: “I’m still here.” Such a short statement will mean an incredible deal to those feeling the weight of trauma upon their shoulders.

If Max’s ordeal conveys anything it’s that the real monster isn’t Vecna, but the disturbing lurking beneath the surface of our own lives. Those are the things that creep, skulk and seek to master us. Sophie Gilbert writes that the darkness Stranger Things explains is always there, in this dimension and in others. I would add that the darkness of the show isn’t primarily epitomised in the monsters of the Upside Down, but in the experiences of the children that navigate that monstrous realm. The physical monsters are merely the intangible fears of these kids made literal. Yet while Vecna will undoubtedly meet his end in the final volume of season four, it’s not yet clear if our heroes will vanquish their personal burdens just as easily.

It truly is refreshing to see a show handle the difficult topic of childhood trauma so well. For all of its comedic timing, impressive CGI and eighties nostalgia, what really undercuts all of that is its insistence that trauma isn’t easily fixed. That recovery is not instant, but slow and difficult. Art like Stranger Things is necessary because it, as Stephen King writes, offer ways of communicating what can’t always be said out loud. Yet, as is always the case, there is no darkness that can ever truly defeat light. The monster behind Stranger Things, though more subtle than a Demogorgon, isn’t all-powerful. There is always, as is in Max’s case, a reason to continue ‘running up that hill’.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #max mayfield #netflix #netflix original #tv series #writing #writers #creative writing

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thesundowncrew · 21 days

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what horror trope/metaphor i enjoy are you

SAMHAIN - heaven as oblivion

NIGHTSHADE - the horror of the mother

AXEL - meat as horror

#;headcanon (Samhain)#;headcanon (Axel)#;headcanon (Nightshade)#oshit son these are some hot bangers

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hopes-memorial · 5 months

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What horror trope/metaphor I enjoy are you

Stolen from: @/dcgfight Tagging: anyone who wants to, you know me by now

Amai/Daisuke: The horror of the mother

Botan: meat as horror

Elodie/Masao/Matsuri: Family as a cult

Haruka: flowers rotting as a metaphor for death/decay

#character memes

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vinceviralfreak · 6 months

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Title: The AfterParty

Genre: Horror

Writing Style: Dialogue-Driven

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It was a wild night at the Rock-N-Roll after party. Seven young college girls, Sarah, Emma, Lily, Mia, Olivia, Ava, and Chloe, danced and laughed, completely unaware of the impending doom that awaited them. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the atmosphere was electric.

Sarah: (shouting over the music) Can you believe how amazing this party is? I never want it to end!

Emma: (grinning) I know, right? This is the best night of our lives!

Lily: (raising her glass) Cheers to that, ladies! Let's make some unforgettable memories!

Mia: (looking around) Hey, have you noticed that no one else seems to be here? It's just us.

Olivia: (dismissively) Who cares? We're having a blast, and that's all that matters!

Ava: (nervously) I don't know, guys. Something feels off. It's like we're the only ones here, but we're still having a good time.

Chloe: (rolling her eyes) Ava, you worry too much. Just enjoy the party!

As the night wore on, the girls continued to dance and drink, oblivious to the fact that time had stopped for them. The music played on repeat, and the lights flickered ominously.

Sarah: (slurring her words) I can't believe how long this party has been going on. It feels like forever!

Emma: (giggling) Yeah, it's like we're stuck in some kind of time loop. But who cares? We're having fun!

Lily: (looking around nervously) Okay, this is getting weird. I'm starting to feel... trapped.

Mia: (panicking) What do you mean, trapped? We're just partying, right?

Olivia: (suddenly pale) Wait, where did everyone go? Why is it just us?

Ava: (voice trembling) I think... I think we're not alive anymore. This is the afterlife.

Chloe: (laughing nervously) Ava, that's ridiculous! We're still alive, right?

But as the girls looked around, they realized Ava might be right. The party seemed frozen in time, and the once vibrant atmosphere now felt eerie and unsettling.

Sarah: (whispering) What do we do now? How do we get out of here?

Emma: (voice trembling) I don't know, but we have to try. We can't stay here forever.

Lily: (determined) Let's stick together and find a way out. We can't let fear consume us.

Mia: (nodding) Agreed. We need to stay calm and think logically.

Olivia: (shivering) I don't want to be stuck here forever. We have to find an exit.

Ava: (taking a deep breath) Okay, let's search for any signs or clues that might lead us out of here.

Chloe: (holding hands with the others) We're in this together, girls. We'll find a way back to the real world.

As the girls ventured through the frozen party, they discovered a hidden door at the back of the venue. With a mixture of fear and hope, they pushed it open, revealing a blinding light.

Sarah: (whispering) Is this our way out?

Emma: (taking a step forward) There's only one way to find out.

Lily: (holding hands with the others) Let's go, girls. We can't stay here any longer.

Mia: (smiling) We'll face whatever awaits us together.

Olivia: (bravely) Onward, ladies. Our journey isn't over yet.

Ava: (taking a deep breath) Here's to a new beginning.

Chloe: (stepping into the light) Let's go home.

And with that, the seven young college girls stepped into the blinding light, leaving behind the Rock-N-Roll after party and embracing the unknown. They were determined to find their way back to the life they once knew, no matter what horrors awaited them in the afterlife.

---

Note: The story ends on a cliffhanger, leaving the fate of the girls open to interpretation.

#horror #rock n roll #scifi

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aphethaschronicles · 11 months

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The Man in the Black Hat

“She’ll be right back, she’s just going to check…” How absurd… It’s like they completely ignored my every word

Just sent my sister to her death and no one cares Or at least they’re very unaware Of The Man in the Black Hat sitting in there

Except me who saw him clearly, oh dear me

I watched in horror as he chewed and smile I made a slight noise he turned and scowled And I ran and I was just going to wait a while—

I remember seeing a green glow Then rustling and I don’t know… A shadowy figure with a black hat in tow

Shh, he may yet hear me as I hide here As they await my sister to appear I scurried to a closet in total fear

Knowing the fate, knowing her state I refuse to leave, no I’ll wait Hoping I was dreaming or I didn’t see straight

No, I saw…I saw him and his glowing red eye I saw him for sure as I lay there paralyzed Between sleep and awake, thought I was a dead guy

But when he shuffled towards me with no remorse My thought? Break free, I fought And I ran of course

But they’ve been quiet for too long out there It’s weird, there’s nothing left to hear It’s like, I swear, like they don’t care

The Man in the Black Hat must’ve—

Maybe because I made them aware No wait—if I was the one that dared— To write this to make record is unfair

For then those who read shall be in danger If you ever receive this from a stranger No then it’d be too late—

I must erase this and burn the paper Put it to a flame and inhale the vapor Let no piece of this be seen

No….boy….keep writing.

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thedrag0nking · 1 year

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3:08 A.M.

In the night of the village everything in the cold darkness of march was peaceful and quiet everyone in their homes began to fall asleep while a few remain outdoors in the village doing their thing walking and trying to have a peaceful life despite what is going on outside of their village unaware of the horror that will befall upon them sooner than they realize

Through the shadows of their village the genetically made abominations the vicious deinonychus Carnosauria stared at their prey quietly while waiting for the time to strike and slaughter EVERY villager from man, women, and child. The carnosaurs turned to see a few of the pack nodding their head awaiting for the pack leader to give the signal. Wherever their leader go they follow without question. The pack leader finally found the opportunity to give the signal to strike as one of the villagers a child no younger than twelve years of age had wander off from his mother behind him is where she hides.

Finally it was now time to strike the pack leader get the first kill, grabbing the poor child by his head through her jaws ripping as he burst into tears screaming and crying of excruciating pain. The villagers watched in absolute horror, finally meeting their doom at the hands of these monstrosities and the rest of the pack finally appear from the dark and began their hunt. Left and right these raptors slaughtered everyone as they run for their lives, while each of them gey pounced, snatched, butchered, mauled and maimed by the dozens as the people inside a few of their homes awaken from the screaming as well as the carnosaurs screeching and killing them all. These unfortunately people in their homes peaked through their doors and saw the carnage ensue they get away from the doors hoping they didn't see them, but not even their homes are safe as a few of them had got into their homes through bursting into their roofs or bursting through the floor board where they began their killing. They killed the families as their screams can be heard while many more outside are being torn to shreds.

A few villagers while the chaos ensue had appeared with swords trying to fight back at the carnosaurs, striking them own with their blades but they're overwhelmed by the pack dismembering them limb from limb. The big feast was chaotic, it was everything these creatures have wanted. Fresh human prey for the slaughter. What been going on for minutes, the village is now completely quiet and smell of corpses. The villagers lying on the ground dead, even inside their homes where the families are found dead. They enjoy themselves with the carcasses of the villagers they hunted down with ease and right after the pack left the scene leaving the bodies behind. Disappearing into the midnight. There was not a chance nobody had survive, not even from these creatures. Everyone is dead. All of them.

#{ Musing: Deinonychus Carnosauria }#{ Butchering Talons }#{ The Big Feast }#{ The Hunt Begins }#SoundCloud

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heliads · 3 years

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Second Best

Based on this request: “a Zoya Nazyalensky story where she and the reader are friends and one night they get into a fight and Zoya confesses her love?”

masterlist

The task before you is simple. All you have to do is use your abilities as a Grisha Squaller to pick up the metal spear before you and launch it across a clearing into the awaiting target. It’s almost offensively easy, something you’ve been training to do since you arrived at the Little Palace all those years ago. It’s very simple, although the fact that you’re now next in line to complete the task makes it seem strangely harder.

However, the eyes of the rest of the Squallers are upon you, so you can’t exactly back down now. You step forward, lifting your hands in the traditional gestures used by the Etherealki whenever they have it in their minds to do something particularly interesting, and the spear lifts before you. You let it hover there, suspended in the air for a second, and then you fling your hands forward, palms facing the target. The spear flies in unison with your movement, burying itself halfway through its length in the target. It’s almost a perfect shot, maybe off by a hair’s breadth. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

You can hear applause from behind you, the usual aura of surprise that comes with the feat you’ve just accomplished. With a casual gesture of your fingers, the spear yanks itself out of the target, with only a few sparse pieces of straw falling to the ground as any sort of damage. Well, that and the gaping hole in the center of the target, although that is quickly mended by the Fabrikator kept on hand. You can’t help but grin to yourself as the spear returns to your hand. Let’s see anyone else match that.

You may have spoken a little too soon- seconds after you’ve returned the spear to its awaiting position near the front of the courtyard, it’s hurled again through the air, shooting with the precision of an arrow to land in the direct center of the target. You thought it might be impossible to improve upon the slight difference in your shot, but this latest Squaller has managed it with ease.

Normally, any other blue-garbed Etherealki would be looking around in horror and dismay, upset as to what would cost them the first place spot in the class and curious as to who could land a perfect shot such as that. You, however, are somewhat used to this now, and just keep walking with a grin. You can hear footsteps approaching behind you, and don’t even have to turn around to acknowledge the girl now matching your strides.

“Nice one, Zoya.” The girl beside you smirks. “I should hope so. If I so much as missed the center by a hair, you wouldn’t let me forget it for a week.” You laugh. “Of course not. How could I let go of the chance to not tease Zoya’Best In Class’ Nazyalensky? It would practically be a crime.” Zoya nods, pretending to be serious. “Absolutely. The Saints might invoke their wrath upon you if you didn’t act upon such an opportunity.” You fling your hand over your heart dramatically. “Here lies Y/N L/N, dead after the Saints wanted to see her make fun of her friend and she let them down.”

Zoya snorts graciously as you pretend to faint on her, shoving your mock limp body aside. “Oh, you consider us friends?” You catch yourself easily, rolling your eyes. “Zoya dear, I know it would bring you no greater pleasure in the world to consider yourself a lone wolf, forever at the front of the pack, but I thought you’d realized by now that you simply can’t get rid of me. We’re friends.”

You can hear Zoya grumbling, but when you glance over at her, there’s an ill-concealed smile dancing behind her eyes. “That’s an interesting way to convince people to like you, annoy them and make sure you don’t ever leave you alone.” You raise an eyebrow at her. “And did it work, yes or no?” Zoya huffs. “It did, but we’re not talking about that.” You grin. “Of course we’re not.”

You pause by the halls of the Little Palace, ready to part ways as usual. Although the Etherealki and Squallers specifically all have their quarters around the same area, Zoya’s rooms are a ways away from your own. This is typically where you split up, where you go your way and Zoya returns to her own devices, where she’ll most likely plot how to take control of the next lesson and prove herself the best of the students yet again.

However, Zoya shakes her head, continuing to walk next to you. “There are too many people waiting by my doors. I’m staying in yours instead, if that’s alright.” You nod, unable to keep a teasing grin from your face. “Of course it’s alright. It must be so hard, having to deal with suitors and fans so often. I imagine it to be simply exhausting.” You’re expecting Zoya’s vexed scowl and smack on the arm, so you’re able to duck out of the range of both.

This is how it is to be close friends with Zoya Nazyalensky, after all. You laugh with her, develop a thick enough skin to stand the constant scathing remarks that must of course be exchanged, and do your best to keep up with the neverending flow of power and possibility that always seems to come her way. That’s how it has always been, and how it will always be.

It’s not that you mind this, of course. You learned early on that no matter how hard you try, she’s always going to come in first in the class competitions and Grisha displays of strength. Being second out of so many Etherealki is pretty damn good for you, and you can tell that there’s a slight sigh of relief in Zoya’s eyes when you never seem to mind her showing off or ruining what might have been a first place finish for you. Hey- you never came to the Little Palace to always be the best, you came to learn and laugh, and you do that with Zoya. You would never trade what you have with her for fierce competition, even if it meant that you’d start besting her in contests.

This isn’t to say that you wouldn’t change slight aspects of your friendship, of course. For some reason, your heart decided to join the scores of other Grisha and even otkazat’sya that were foolish enough to fall in love with Zoya, and you’re just as hopeless as the rest. It’s just the way that she laughs when she wins, the glimmer of competition and spirit in everything she does, the undeniable thrill in your chest whenever you spot the familiar blue-clad silhouette heading briskly your way. No, you don’t think there was ever a way that you wouldn’t fall under her spell, even if you tried your hardest to fight it.

You could have told her you loved her, you think. You could have mentioned it to Zoya at any point, but you don’t. You’ve seen the way she watches potential friends for their weaknesses, having to always second-guess why they’re talking to her. Is this latest Corporalki approaching her because he truly wants to be her friend, or is it because he instead desires the secrets of her skill in Grisha abilities or as another girl in his bed? For anyone else, you think the constant doubts would drive someone mad, but it doesn’t for Zoya. She’s able to tuck it inside herself, bury it until you wouldn’t even know it was there at all.

She told you once, when the night was dark and long and Zoya couldn’t stop herself from having slightly too much kvas after a hard mission, that she sometimes terrifies herself over the fact that she might always be alone. You can still picture her there, curled up in a chair by your fire, the haunted look in her eyes. You know something happened before she came to the Little Palace, something that made her never trust another soul unless they worked to prove it, but it’s hovering in the back of her mind right now.

So, you nodded at her, and gave her another one of your sapphire blankets to help the way that she won’t stop shivering, and you listen. When Zoya looks up at you again, as if expecting to leave like the others or at least shoo her from your rooms, you simply offer for her to stay the night and not have to go back to her empty quarters. You think that was the moment when she finally accepted that you weren’t going away, when she really started to trust you.

This is precisely why you cannot say a word about how you feel- if Zoya finds out, she’ll begin to wonder if your entire friendship was just borne of a lie, the same as any of the other heartstruck Etherealki who think themselves brave enough to tame Zoya. So, you make sure to direct your lingering glances towards the woods and the scenery around you instead of her, and you force a joking smile instead of a soft look. She would know what you meant if you didn’t hide your heart, so you must do your best to deceive her.

You’ve arrived in your rooms by now, tossing your outer coats to the side and warming your hands by the fire in the corner. You talk for a while about the class and the other students and the way Marie won’t stop staring at Sergei, a Corpoalki who she most certainly should not be associated with. Zoya stays until the candles burn low, and then she says goodbye with a smile. You return her smile. You always do.

You have a most interesting conversation over the next week. It’s not with Zoya, as it turns out, but General Kirigan. Truth be told, you weren’t expecting it at all. He’d caught you unawares in the library one night, while you were studying the particulars of the making at the heart of the world for a class lecture the next day. He hadn’t been there one second yet appeared the next, looming over your book with a shadow that seemed too tall and menacing to be real.

You had looked up in surprise, but he held up a hand, quelling any doubts that you’d accidentally done something wrong. He spoke to you about a regiment of Grisha in one of the backwater towns, some part of the Second Army that was asking for far too many supplies in exchange for the lackluster job they were doing to protect the potential Grisha in the city. For some reason, he asked your opinion of what to do about them, and you gave it. He thanked you with a smile, then left.

This happened twice more. All three times, he showed up, talked with you for a little bit, and asked a question on what you thought of a particular issue. Sometimes, it was still with the Second Army, and sometimes it was with the opportunities presented to the Grisha at the Little Palace itself. He seemed intrigued to hear what classes were like, saying how he had heard you were one of the best Squallers there were. You had smiled at that, and his eyes had glinted like a hound about to take down his prey.

That was the third visit, the most recent visit. You’re walking back to your quarters now, unable to keep a slight grin from your face. This is it, isn’t it? This is how you make your way from the classrooms of the Little Palace to the battlefield, to a real chance to do something different. When you open your doors, Zoya is propped up in an armchair inside, although this does not surprise you. You’ve long since given her free reign of all that is yours.

She looks up at you, a question already bubbling up in her inquisitive glance. “What’s got you so excited?” She’s never been able to miss a detail, has she? You can’t seem to tuck your smile away. “I’ve been speaking to General Kirigan, three times now. I think he might be on the verge of offering me a job in the Second Army.” You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting from Zoya- an expression of surprise, maybe some congratulatory words. Whatever you thought might happen, you were certainly not expecting her to stand up, face twisted in something that looked almost like fear and anger.

“You can’t do that. You should avoid him as much as possible.” Your feet stall from where you’d been crossing the room to her. “What are you talking about?” Zoya shakes her head, almost manic. “You should stay away from him. What did he tell you?” This, coming from your closest friend when you’d been so excited, is enough to make your happiness start to leach from you, replaced by a cold bewilderment and betrayal. “What does it matter? Zoya, this could be my future.”

Zoya seems unwilling to hear you out. “Tell me what he said, Y/N. You can’t trust a word he says.” You scoff. “I’m not a fool, Zoya. I know what he said, and none of it was a trick. He spoke to me like a friend, and last time he talked to me about potential openings within the Grisha ranks. I could have a position. Isn’t that excellent?” Zoya shakes her head once more. “It’s a trick. He won’t give you anything. Don’t tell me you’re actually going to believe what he says?”

You draw back from her now, all traces of excitement gone from you. “Why are you saying this? Maybe I don’t know if he truly means it or not, but you don’t know anything about this. Saints, I thought you might actually be happy for me.” Zoya almost winces at that. “I’m not- I would be happy for you if I thought this was something real, Y/N, but it’s not. Nothing is with him.” You can feel yourself rising up in anger. “Oh, and you would know about that, wouldn’t you? From all of the time you spent with him? Are you truly doubtful, Zoya, or do you just not want me to be involved with him because you don’t want me to have anything that you hadn’t had first?”

The words are coming out faster now, one after the other. Truth be told, it’s almost good to hear them aloud after so long keeping them inside. “I never had a problem with you being first in class, first in everything. I never will, but I assumed that you would extend that same courtesy to me. Why is it that we’re friends in everything, but the second I seem to get some sort of headway, you have to prove it wrong? Can’t I have anything that isn’t yours already?”

Zoya draws back as if you’ve slapped her. “That’s not how I feel. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” You want to laugh. “This is how you keep me safe? By taking everything away from me until I’m only in your shadow and nowhere else?” Zoya flings her hands in the air. “If it means he doesn’t get his hooks in you, yes! I would rather have you stay here forever than lose you.” You look at her, unbelieving. “And why is that? Because we’re such good friends that you’d trade my future for my complacency?”

Zoya’s voice is soft now, barely there at all. “Because I cannot stand to lose you. Because I love you, Saints damn it, and I’d rather have you hate me than never have you at all.” You stand there for a second, then another, then another. Your breath is sharp and harsh in your chest, but you cannot seem to say a single word. You try for a few, anyway. “You love me?” She nods once. “Yes.”

You do laugh now, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say so, you idiot? I love you too.” She looks almost surprised. “I thought- I thought you just wanted to be friends.” You shrug. All of your anger is receding away from you now, washing back into the banks after a flood. “I did, because I thought that’s all you wanted. I didn’t want to make it seem like I was only your friend because I had feelings for you.” Zoya stands there for a moment, then something almost like a sigh comes from her and she steps forward, wrapping her arms around you. “You generous, impossible fool. I can’t stand you.” You laugh, returning her embrace. “Of course not. You love me.”

requested by @villnella

grishaverse tag list: someone who would be my squaller bestie @underc0vercryptid, @darlinggbrekker, @cameronsails, @aleksanderwh0r3

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